#She was sooo young & sooo powerful... Imagine how powerful she would be if she would have got more time...

[purple--queen]

Compared to all the other witches Wanda is literally a baby to them.

[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔 pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, slight porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

masterlist

summary: “You are something I can sin for” An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon when she was young - nothing happenes until she's of age, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

a/n: So here we are! This is the story I've been thrilled to share as it unfolds almost simultaneously with Champagne Confetti. Y/N, alias Peaches, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after my current project wraps up, wink wink. I have drafts for other fics set in the same universe as my current work and the new one, Anubis. Step by step, my fairies ♥

I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I've kept to myself for a long time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo, I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within this universe— which now I have decided is going to be called — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔. Without further ado, enjoy, fairies! ♥

1996

There's a soft whisper in your bones, each time you wake up in the morning. As your eyes flutter open, the room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the ceiling. All your demons are staring at you from above. They have been there when you went to sleep, and they are still there when you wake up. You know them all too well—regrets, doubts, fears—they've become familiar companions in the lonely hours of the night. They whisper tales of your failures, amplifying every mistake, every misstep, until they echo like thunder in your mind.

But would it be any different if your steps turned the other direction? Would the cosmos allow you to be? Possibly. You, however, will never know what life would be without blood flowing down the stream, dirty money from all the sins you've watched being committed.

You will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it. But the thought is fleeting, for you know deep down that he is as much a part of your story as the demons that haunt you. His presence has shaped you in ways both profound and subtle, leaving an indelible mark on your soul and your body. The agonising pain within still remains and all you can think of is how did you get to this point in your story.

"Bitches come and go, Peaches—" you recalled those words like it was yesterday they were uttered.

"—but you and him, love, you be for life."

An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that's what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn't always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon and every word that came out of his plump lips.

Kim Namjoon was trouble and the whole Bronx knew so. Heck, even the whole state knew what kin he came from. You were no exception. But whatever you did, you never managed to put distance between you two.

The world seemed both infinitely vast and impossibly small when the streets of the Bronx were your stage. You were young when you met Namjoon, a whirlwind of youthful energy and reckless abandon, there he is, so vivid in your memories.

Every time you'd help around Anubis, you could see his straying eyes. He had an aura of mischief that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You remember the way his gaze lingered on your skin, straying from the task at hand to fixate on you with a mixture of fascination.

Namjoon's reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the noonday sun. Entirely impossible to overlook, yet you did. His name was whispered in hushed tones in the back alleys and dark corners where his influence held sway, and that was only the beginning. The magnitude he reached decades later is for another story.

You had heard the rumors—the tales of his involvement with the local gangs, the whispers of his connections to the underworld that lurked beneath the surface of the city. Certainly, you would have to be lying if you said that Anubis was completely legal. You were not that stupid. While it bore the façade of a legitimate establishment, its roots ran deep into the murky waters of the criminal underworld.

Mrs. Jung could smile as widely as she wanted and reassure you that all was fine and all was taken care of, but you couldn't ignore the whispers that circulated about Anubis. Yet she paid triple what you could get in any regular bar. Not like you could work at a regular bar at the time at your age. Survival often depended on turning a blind eye to the unsavory realities of life that you would never be able to face alone. Money was tight and you could not afford to lose such a good-paying job. Even if it took what it took.

"His eyes are hungry for you, Peaches—" said Mrs. Jung while toying with the little umbrella that was swimming in her Kamasutra drink you'd prepared just a few minutes ago. You envisioned your life in the city just like she had, Saint Laurent heels clicking loudly as you would walk down the streets of Manhattan. You admired your lady boss from her head to toes. Mrs. Jung was a symbol of pussy and power. Until she was not. The power was given to her and once she rejected to meet the expectations, it was taken from her.

"—But that's all he can do, at least for now."

She winked your way and then her attention turned to the approaching male figure. What she meant by that is loud and clear. You are underaged and Namjoon cannot make any move on you even if he wanted to. And you knew he respects you that much. Although something tells you that this would be the least illegal thing he would’ve committed.

You’ve met Mark Tuan on occasion when he stopped by the bar. She was not Mrs Jung at the time, yet the notorious life of your lady boss, confused you even then. The way she and Mr Jung behaved around each other gave you the impression that he is her lover and not the tattooed boy that fucked the brains out of her in the office upstairs.

You felt the pain that was reflected on Jung Hoseok’s face when he asked where is she and you had to answer truthfully. The only thing you knew about Namjoon was that he and the Jungs ran way back. Their primary, and to the upper world’s eye, legal assets were the distilleries that distribute whiskey and brandy which you were serving each night till early hours of the morning.

The moment he particularly chose to visit the bar only those evenings you’ve been around was a louder hint shouted your way. As if you haven’t already figured. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved through the world and the way he moved you once your eyes locked.

The way he spoke to you, listened to you so attentively, gave advice on occasion and provided a shoulder to lean on, was all pulling you to him even more. It made you forget about all the skeletons that were in his closet.

The air crackled with anticipation as he walked through the room each night, straight to you, his gaze fixing on you with a mixture of fascination and desire. But amidst the heat of the moment, there was a shadow of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

Mrs. Jung's sudden disappearance, Namjoon taking over the day-to-day operations of Anubis—it all seemed too convenient, too perfect to be mere coincidence. It gave him the opportunity to watch you, keep you safe. You were scared that he'd cut you off whenever you fucked up something. But he never did; rather the opposite, offering you a lifeline when you needed it most. There was a chemistry between you that defied explanation, a silent understanding that transcended words.

The way his muscular torso almost pressed against yours in the storage room took your breath away instantly. The faint scent of his cologne enveloped you as he leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Surrounded by crates and boxes of expensive alcoholic beverages, the world seemed to fade away. His hand brushed against yours while he was lifting it, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins as you met his gaze. Reaching above your head to envelop his slender fingers around the throat of the bottle that you could not reach before, he slowly moved closer to hover above your lips. You trembled under his gaze on your lips that were slightly parted; you were panting at this point, reminding you of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of your forbidden romance.

"Just a moment longer."

His voice was a low murmur, a seductive whisper that sent a thrill racing through your veins. Despite the warning bells that rang in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't deny the pull he had over you, the magnetic attraction that drew you closer with each passing moment, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the storage room. You knew that this was wrong, and yet, as his breath ghosted over your skin, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

You would never deny it, but you could not accept it and return his affections the way he wished you would. This was temporary. You never planned to stay in Anubis for longer than needed. It was not where you belonged, and the criminal underbelly of the Bronx was not the life you had envisioned for yourself.

You could not understand what made him stay away from you for such a long time. But it certainly created an opening for you to re-think your next steps.

Somehow, being twenty-one did make you feel the anticipation of living a life. Almost twenty-two when you graduated from college that could be paid as your earnings in Anubis allowed so. Slowly, your little life in the farthest corner of Bronx would come to an end and you could move into the city. Get a job, maybe even a man and kids later. You wanted that white-picket-fence life and you knew that if you wanted to live it peacefully, staying here was not an option.

Your father was strongly against you leaving even though he never approved of the life you led in the dark of nights. He was not a saint either, his hands stained with the same sins that plagued the streets of the Bronx. There was no man in the whole New York City that would not know the name Kim Namjoon and your father was not an exception. Although, you never had the courage to mention his name and acknowledge that the man your father praises when he drinks his beer and plays poker with his drunkard old pals, is spending his evenings talking to you.

"I tell ya all, that Namjoon boy has got a head on his shoulders like no other," your father's voice boomed across the small kitchen.

"A real businessman, that one," a flicker of unease stirring in the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar glint of admiration in your step-father's eyes. Namjoon's name hung in the air between you, a silent reminder of the bond that had formed between you in the shadows of Anubis.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up running this whole city someday, right, Peaches?" You forced a smile, a wave of uncertainty washing over you as you considered the implications of your father's words. Namjoon's ambitions were as vast as the city itself, his influence reaching far beyond the confines of Anubis and the criminal underworld it symbolized.

"That's Mr. Jung's place, dad," you shook your head disapprovingly but with a smile on your face. His comrades laughed and shared similar ideas as he did though.

"That would be a boy for your Peaches," one of his comrades chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls of the cramped kitchen as they continued to sing Namjoon's praises after you only silently smiled again and opted not to respond. Your father however scoffed. He praised him, yes. But would he approve of his only child being with such a man like Namjoon is?

"When are you leaving for the city, young Missy?" Old man whose name you've never known asked with a cigarette in his mouth, looking over his cards rather than your way.

"Don't even support her in that big apple bullshit." You felt a pang of disappointment at his lack of support, but you were not surprised. You glanced around the kitchen, meeting the eyes of the men gathered there, each one offering their own opinion on your future. Some nodded in agreement with your step-father, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable.

"Don't listen to those old men, child—"

"You got dreams, girl. Don't let nobody hold you back from chasing 'em.”

Truth to be told. The job, white fence, man and kids were not your dreams. You did not really know what to dream of, being restricted in such a dark part of the world that Bronx was for many, you did not even know why you hate your home like that. And you certainly weren’t even sure what is it to have a dream. But you hoped you’ll create some once you step your foot down, somewhere else than here. It doesn’t have to be Manhattan in particular. Anywhere but here is fine.

"Peaches, love, be sweet and bring us another beer from the fridge on your way to work, would ya?"

The request snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. With a nod, you forced a smile, hiding the turmoil within as you moved to comply with his request. You were sure you'd be late to your shift at Anubis yet again, but you knew that Namjoon would turn a blind eye. He always did when it came to you.

But Namjoon was not present the moment you stepped into Anubis that night. As you made your way through the dimly lit interior of Anubis, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a heavy blanket. The usual hustle and bustle of the bar seemed muted, the air thick with tension as you approached the bar.

Mrs. Jung was still nowhere to be found and therefore, for a few months, Namjoon had replaced her. But tonight he was not here. He usually came around ten p.m. and stayed until you cleaned the very last table and closed the bar.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set about your duties, determined to carry on despite the growing sense of unease that lingered in the air. But as the night wore on, the feeling of dread only intensified, leaving you on edge as you awaited Namjoon's return.

You watched the sun rising through the large windows that let the light come into the bar that was still beaming with a significant number of people of various ages. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Where could he be? Why hadn't he shown up as usual? The questions nagged at you, fueling the unease that had settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

"Peaches?!" You heard the voice of one of the local and returning customers from the other side of the dancing floor. He was a friend. Or so you thought. He raised two fingers into the air and in a second you were already pouring the brownish liquid of Jung's Whiskey into the crystal-clear glasses.

You walked over to the table he was sitting at alongside a face you'd never seen before. Thanking you for the drinks, he pointed his thumb to the man sitting next to him.

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the introduction as you set down the drinks on the table. The unfamiliar man, Jinyoung, returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.

"Nice to meet you, Jinyoung," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Jinyoung's gaze met yours, his eyes dark and probing as if searching for something within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under his scrutiny, a feeling that only added to the unease already gnawing at your insides. Something about him set off alarm bells in your mind, a primal instinct warning you to tread carefully.

"What's a beauty like you doing tucked in Anubis?" Jinyoung asked, his voice smooth and velvety. You glanced around the dimly lit bar, suddenly aware of the eyes that seemed to linger on you from every corner, not understanding why.

"I... I work here," you said, a sudden shyness prevailing on the surface. You never really engaged with other men apart from Namjoon. For some reason, each time a man approached you, all of them quickly backed out, opting to not even look your way. For a long time, you did not know what you did wrong to chase them all away. But you got to know that night.

Jinyoung's lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I can offer you a better job, beauty," his words dripping with a seductive allure, and in that moment, you decided you needed to get back to work ASAP. He sounded like trouble you did not want on your last days here.

"I... I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite content here," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"You sure? I could have good use of someone like you, Peaches." Your heart pounded in your chest as Jinyoung's words washed over you. He played with your name on his tongue, and you had a hint that the job he was offering you would be something much worse than working in Anubis.

"Easy, Jinyoung, that's Namjoon's girl you're talking to." Jackson finally spoke up as if he heard your little begging in your head, but this was not what you expected him to say. Were you Namjoon's girl? Years went by and he merely brushed upon your hand with his own. There was no attempt to woo you directly. So how come everyone saw it this way—you as Namjoon's girl?

"I'm not Namjoon's girl—" you said, standing your ground for once. You saw Jackson's eyes widen and Jinyoung smirk at your remark.

"I'm no one's girl—"

"Nonetheless, thanks for the offer but I have to decline." Jinyoung's smirk widened at your words, his gaze flickering with amusement as if he found your defiance entertaining. A second later you were on your way back to the bar. He was Jackson's friend, but he was crude and he did not understand he ought to fuck off. The grip you suddenly felt on your upper arm was painful enough to make you wince, yanking you back as you squinted your eyes from the pain of his touch.

"What makes you say no if you're no one's slu—" your ears picked up his words before they were silenced. Forever. His last words were cut off by a deafening gunshot, leaving you frozen in shock. The sound of it still ringing in your ears as you turned to see the source of the chaos. There, standing with a smoking gun in his hand, was Namjoon, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Jinyoung's lifeless form. One side of Jackson's face was covered in blood that was his friend's, his shock mirroring your own. And you were scared to even move an inch.

Namjoon had just killed a man in cold blood, he shot him right in front of you. Without mercy. Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of what had just transpired. The grip he had on your upper arm weakened yet remained even after his head fell down. It was a clear shot to the side of his head.

By now, half of the bar emptied, only those underworld rats stayed unfazed. Namjoon was always so calm, so collected. But now, he looked like a completely different person. The bar had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. You wanted to run, but your legs failed you, unable to move as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What—" your heart hammered in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to say, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of the moment. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached to pull your hand away from Jinyoung's lifeless grip and while you struggled to do so, the scenery before you was not helping you to calm down. The side of his head blown up, you could see parts of his brain, immediately making you empty your stomach on the floor. The fact that Namjoon hadn't said a word since he literally came out of nowhere was not contributing to the situation either.

You heard his smooth voice but it was too muffled at this point. He was giving orders to Jackson, but you did not understand a single word coming out of his mouth. Your head was spinning and the room felt like a carousel.

"Why would you—" you began to stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The question died on your lips, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread that hung heavy in the air. Namjoon had just committed an act of unspeakable violence, ending a man's life without a second thought. Nothing will be the same ever again. You stayed out of all the illegalness that surrounded Anubis on purpose. What eyes don't see, heart doesn't hurt. What you don't know, can't hurt you. But now you eye-witnessed such brutality and he won't let you walk away to the other end of the rainbow.

You did not expect him to hear you nor even answer your remark, but of course, Kim Namjoon was always here to listen to you.

"He touched you."

The words hit you like a physical blow, jolting you out of your stunned silence. He wasn't just stating a fact; he was issuing a warning, a chilling reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Looking him in the eye, he looked like a possessive maniac, like someone determined to protect what he perceived as his.

"He didn't—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of Namjoon's scrutiny. Yet you stopped yourself to think whether Jinyoung's intentions were harmless or not. You remembered the way Jinyoung had leered at you, his touch lingering where it shouldn't have.

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

You felt a chill run down your spine as the weight of his words settled over you. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a promise, a vow to protect you at any cost. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something primal and possessive that sent chills down your body.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your mind raced with a million thoughts and questions, but you knew better than to voice them.

That night you started to hate each and every gaze he threw your way when you were working, all the men running away after uttering a single word to you, and all the remarks about you being Namjoon's girl.

But were you ready to be Namjoon's girl? To be part of his world?

You sit up, the sheets clinging to your skin like a shroud, and confront the spectres that linger above. Even after some weeks, you still cannot shake off the tremor you've experienced that night.

"Peaches?!" You heard your father's voice. You were hidden in the confines of your small room for days now, coming out only to take a bottle of water, and even that you managed to minimize by taking the whole six-pack. You couldn't bring yourself to respond.

The look in Namjoon's eyes, the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears, the sight of Jinyoung's lifeless body—all of it was seared into your mind, haunting you like a relentless spectre. You needed some time. But it was running out quickly.

Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you remained silent, grappling with the weight of the choices that lay before you. You packed your bag last night, all the cash stuffed inside at various places, just to be turned right back on your heel by two muscular men you'd never met before. The color they wore was emerald green, and you quickly understood that those were Jung soldiers, if you could call them that.

Your father was similarly confused. His eyes were darting between you and the soldiers as he struggled to make sense of the situation. So here you are, awaiting when he will decide to collect you. What is he waiting for? You knew that your time was running out; you just didn't know exactly when it would run out.

In that moment that night, you missed the Namjoon you thought he was. All you could see was a stranger, a dangerous man whose actions had shattered your illusions and left you reeling in their wake. Yes, you knew his line of work, but you'd rather not see it with your own two eyes. You'd rather stay oblivious to who he really was just to keep the picture of the Namjoon you knew hanging a little bit longer.

"You can't hide there forever." And you certainly did not plan to, but coming out to see your father's worried face after he sees how disheveled you look could wait for another day or so. You did not know what Namjoon intended to achieve by making you a prisoner in your own home.

Every fiber of your being wanted to hate Namjoon, but you did not know whether that was even possible with how smart that man was with his mouth.

This cage of fear and uncertainty made you uneasy. The wind that forcefully closed your window awoke you from your thoughts. You lived on the second floor of an old block of apartments. You moved toward the old rusted window, cautiously pushing it open again. The cool night air rushed to meet your cheeks, and you closed your eyes to feel it.

Peering down, you assessed the drop. It wasn't too high, and the fire escape just below offered a feasible route. Why had it not occurred to you earlier?

"Peaches, please, talk to me. They've been saying that you can't go out and should wait for sajangnim Kim."

Your father's voice was strained, a mix of concern and frustration. You hesitated, torn between the urge to reassure him and the pressing need to just run for the hills before it was too late for you.

What you realized in the moment, listening to his muffled pleas, was that this might be the last time you'd see him. You couldn't come back to the Bronx ever again. Nor New York. You weren't sure exactly what the magnitude of Jung's power was that Namjoon shared, but you had the hunch that wherever you'd hide in this state, he would find you.

"Dad?" you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of the impending goodbye pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"I'm here, Peaches," your father responded, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, come out. We'll figure this out." Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to the closed door.

"It's no go, Dad."

"Please, just open the door." His voice was closer now, just outside the door.

You glanced around your room, grabbing your packed bag and slipping it over your shoulder.

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

With a final, sorrowful glance toward the door, you slipped out of the window, your feet finding purchase on the metal grating of the fire escape. You descended quickly, not daring to look back. The metal stairs creaked under your weight, each step taking you further from the life you knew. You needed to disappear.

You had no shoes on, and the white tank top clung to your skin, outlining your curves and breasts. The night air was cool against your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth of your tears. The metal of the stairs felt rough under your bare feet, but you pushed forward until you were all the way down.

Catching your breath and glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, the city felt oppressively silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. As you took a step forward, a soft scoff resonated in your ears, leaving you standing there frozen. The man was totally invisible in the dark shadows of the alley between the buildings until he pulled out his zippo lighter to light a cigarette, illuminating his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

The man who was casually leaning against the cold bricks wasn't unfamiliar to you. You, as a barmaid at Anubis, had the extravagant privilege to meet four out of the big seven. Kim Taehyung being one of them, standing here in front of you.

"Mr. Kim," you breathed, dread pooling in your stomach. You were on a first-name basis only with Namjoon even though they all scolded you, especially your lady boss, for being way too formal and polite, making them feel older than they actually are. Truth be told, you were putting some distance between them, but you utterly failed to do so with Namjoon, and here you are, on the run.

"I'm your family now, Peaches," Taehyung said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should start getting used to that, so drop the mister finally."

You gritted your teeth, trying to steady your nerves as you faced Taehyung. "Taehyung," you corrected yourself, though the informal address felt wrong on your tongue.

"That's better, what a good girl you can be," he said with a smirk, taking a step closer. His presence felt suffocating, a reminder of the dangerous world you had stumbled into.

"Why are you here, Taehyung?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"Why are you here, Peaches?" Taehyung countered, his tone filled with amusement. You bit the inside of your mouth, feeling the nerves tighten their grip on you.

"Getting some fresh air," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Ah, yes, because nothing says 'fresh air' like sneaking out of your window in the dead of night," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you. "I just needed to clear my head," you said, hoping he would buy your flimsy excuse.

"You are not planning to do anything stupid now, Peaches, right?" You paused, considering your response carefully. Taehyung's tone, though casual, carried a hint of warning that sent a shiver down your spine. You slightly shook your head to show dismissal.

"Namjoon-hyung said you looked pretty shaken up that night." You couldn't help but tense at Taehyung's mention of Namjoon, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. You had tried to bury the memories of that night deep within you, but they continued to resurface, haunting your every thought.

"I'm fine," you replied, forcing a tight smile. "Just had a rough night, that's all."

"It looks like you're about to have another one to me." Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's ominous remark, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an underlying tension in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising sense of unease.

"Unzipped duffle bag, dollar bills fell from it while you were going down, that looks like you were very eager to get that fresh air."

"I... I was just going for a walk," you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.

"Without putting your shoes on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Taehyung's scrutiny bearing down on you. "I couldn't sleep," you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I needed some fresh air to clear my head.” You repeat yourself, but you know that you can’t fool him no matter what.

Taehyung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he shrugged, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit," he remarked, his smirk never faltering.

You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease bubbling inside you. "Guess I've always had a flair for the dramatic," you quipped, though the words rang hollow in your ears.

Taehyung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That you do, Peaches. That you do," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"You know, Namjoon doesn't like it when his... family goes missing," he said, the emphasis on 'family' making you flinch. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream.

You clenched your fists, feeling trapped. "I'm not missing," you said, your voice firmer than before. "I'm right here."

"I'd probably get a head start if I were you." Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

Your heart pounded in your chest. "A head start?"

He took another drag, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'm not a monster, Peaches. I'll give you a five-minute head start before I come after you."

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was actually giving you a chance to run, but this time you would know someone was after you. You glanced around, calculating your options. The streets were empty, but you knew they wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

You turned and ran, your bare feet slapping against the pavement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprinted down the alley, knowing that Taehyung's smirk was etched in your mind.

You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get as far away as possible. Everything blurred as you pushed yourself to run faster, the sound of your heartbeat drowning out everything else.

If you hide well, he can't find you, can he? You just have to find yourself a place to hide until morning and then you can wait till sunrise, get to the airport and fly to the first destination that will pop up.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

The five minutes neared their end, and you knew you couldn't stay hidden forever. You had to keep moving, keep putting distance between you and Taehyung. Peering through the leaves, you scanned the area, your mind racing through possible routes and hiding spots.

"If I don’t bring you back, he'll come instead, Peaches!" Taehyung's voice echoed through, taunting you.

"You don't want to anger him, do you now?"

You needed a plan, and fast. Glancing around, you noticed a narrow passageway between two buildings, just wide enough for you to squeeze through. It might lead you to a different part of the neighborhood, giving you a chance to lose Taehyung in the labyrinth of backstreets.

You bolted towards the passageway, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, but you pushed forward, heart pounding in your chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night.

"They all run at first, Peaches—" Taehyung's voice echoed, closer now. "You're cute thinking you have a chance to get away."

It was way too narrow even if you put your bag down from your shoulder and dragged it as you tried to squeeze through. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night, and you were scared that he would get to you soon. You knew he was out there, somewhere, searching for you.

"Although, my mind is troubled. Why, out of all of them, do you run?" There was a pause, then a chuckle.

You pushed yourself harder, feeling the rough brick walls scrape against your skin. You needed to keep moving, but you also needed a moment to think. The airport was too far, especially when they were already looking for you. You thought you were clever to disappear through the window as if you were in some cheesy cliché movie.

"Namjoon-hyung was always good to you, wasn't he?" He was. Until the moment someone else's brain was blown up by him right in front of you, simply because of his possessiveness while he never made you two exclusive. Or at least you thought so, as it showed—you were claimed by him sooner than you actually realized. You felt the panic rising in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.

"You have no reason to run, Peaches," Taehyung's voice was taunting, echoing off the walls. "Namjoon-hyung will be so disappointed when he finds out how far you've gone." You ignored the majority of his words, focusing on finding a way out.

You closed your eyes and tried to think harder this time. The old train yard—bingo—it was on the outskirts of the city. It was abandoned, a place where few people ventured. If you could make it there, you might be able to find a boxcar to hide in until morning.

"Family doesn't abandon family, Peaches!" You heard his voice again, this time more distant.

Emerging from the passageway, you found yourself in a small courtyard. It was littered with old furniture and discarded trash; the smell was awful, but you didn't have time to dwell on that.

You listened intently, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog.

You stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible. The train yard was a long way off, but it was your best shot at staying out of immediate reach. Or so you thought.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves, every distant footstep made you jump. You forced yourself to stay calm, to focus on the path ahead. Panicking would only slow you down.

The city's edge came into view, the silhouette of the train yard looming in the distance. You quickened your pace, the sight of your potential sanctuary giving you a burst of energy. You crossed the threshold into the yard, the rusted tracks and abandoned cars offering a twisted sense of comfort.

An old boxcar with the door slightly ajar beckoned to you. You slipped inside, the smell of rust and decay filling your nostrils. You closed the door behind you, plunging the space into darkness. It was cramped and musty, but it was hidden.

Sinking to the floor, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your body ached, your feet throbbed, but you had made it. For now, you were safe. You could only hope that Taehyung would give up the chase, or at least lose your trail long enough for you to figure out your next move.

The sound of gravel crunching outside the boxcar woke you up and consequently made your heart jump into your throat. You held your breath, straining to listen. The footsteps were deliberate and slow, echoing through the stillness of the night.

You held your breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The footsteps drew closer, each crunch of gravel sending a shockwave through your body. Your mind raced with possibilities. Was it Taehyung? Or perhaps someone else stumbling upon your hiding spot?

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't throw her over your shoulder and take her back to her room." The older male shot him a glare.

"Oh come the fuck on, you're one to talk." It was Taehyung's voice, laced with frustration and annoyance.

“I did not lose her, I gave her choice and she chose wrong, she’ll be back though, in no time.” The younger one scoffed and Taehyung quirked his brows, evidently amused by his brother. 

"Well, at least that was my woman I lost and not our Hyung's." The tattooed heartthrob spat his friend's way when he heard his scoff.

"This isn't really my job. I'm only doing this because Namjoon cares about her too much to leave someone incompetent to watch her until he'll come back."

“Or you’re the only one without a woman, Tae.” You heard a little thump as if he jokingly punched him and the other voice chuckled. But first and foremost –

Namjoon's away. He did not come for you as he's away, and if away means out of the state, you have a bigger chance to make an exit than you originally thought.

Seeing him would only make things worse. Listening to his sweet melodies of words would make you doubt what Taehyung initiated—you have no reason to run. Apart from that, you do. He was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, his life a constant dance between power and peril. While his charming demeanor and enigmatic presence had drawn you in, you knew that his lifestyle came with its own set of risks and consequences.

He operated in the shadows, his actions dictated by a code of loyalty to his comrades and ruthlessness towards his enemies. At least that's what you heard people talk about the Jungs and their family man.

You didn't think there was room for innocence. But were you innocent? You had blood on your hands. Jinyoung's. You had been complicit in his demise. While it wasn't you who pulled the trigger, you were the motive.

As the voices grew louder, you strained to make out what they were saying. The sound of footsteps approached the boxcar, each one sending a jolt of fear through you. Were they getting closer? Were they about to open the door and drag you out into the open?

"I did not expect her to play the game that well, I have to give her that," Taehyung remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. Your heart raced as you listened to their conversation.

"Smart, just like he is."

The footsteps came to a stop just outside the boxcar, and you braced yourself for the door to swing open at any moment. Every nerve in your body was on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

But instead of the door creaking open, the voices began to fade away, the gravel crunching underfoot growing softer as they moved further away. Relief washed over you in waves, but you remained cautious, waiting until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared entirely before allowing yourself to relax.

You stayed hidden in the darkness of the boxcar, unsure of how much time had passed. Eventually, the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving you exhausted and drained. You were scared that they were waiting outside and the moment you decided to move places would be fatal for you.

The growl in your stomach was loud, echoing in the empty boxcar. You hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, and the gnawing hunger was beginning to take its toll. Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever or you'd die of hunger very soon.

Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever. Peeking through the small gap, you scanned the area. The night was still, and there was no sign of Taehyung or anyone else.

Slipping out of the boxcar, you kept to the shadows, moving quietly and quickly. You needed to find food, but more importantly, you needed to find a safer place to hide. If you couldn't reach the airport, you'd have to wait somewhere until you were considered off the radar. Would Namjoon lose his interest if he knew you were gone for good? You hoped so, but you also strongly doubted that. The man had had his eyes set on you for three years or so, without ever losing interest in you.

The city was vast, with many nooks and crannies where you could potentially evade capture, but you moved in the dead of the night cautiously. Slowly closing the distance between the convenience store at least ten blocks from your home, its lights were still on and you thanked the almighty, or more so the 24 hour market in front of you.

The store seemed deserted, only a shabby-looking man in his mid-thirties sitting behind the counter, half asleep. You slipped inside, quickly grabbing some food and water before leaving to pay at the counter. When the doorbell rang indicating that a customer entered the small store, you froze in place.

You ducked behind a shelf, hoping the dim lighting and cluttered aisles would conceal you. Peering through a gap between products, you saw a figure enter. You may be paranoid but you wouldn't take the risk when you had managed to not be caught for what seemed like hours. You knew better.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat almost louder than the growling stomach from earlier. You clutched the food tightly, muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to quickly throw the few bucks on the counter and make your leave. You straightened a little.

It wasn't him. It was just a person that resembled him. With a rush of relief, you moved to the counter. The shabby-looking clerk barely glanced up as you placed your items down and reached into your pocket for the money. Just as you were about to pay, a hand slammed the money down on the counter in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.

You looked up slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Taehyung stood beside you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold, triumphant smile.

"My treat," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The clerk, oblivious to the tension, lazily rang up the items and handed the change to Taehyung. He pocketed it without breaking eye contact with you.

You acted rather quickly after you regained your senses, but the exit was blocked by the man you saw earlier. How could you not recognize the famous heartthrob of this decade, Jeon Jungkook? Only a few people knew of his connection to the Jungs, Kims, and Parks.

"Going somewhere?" Jungkook's voice was smooth and exactly identical to the one you heard outside of the boxcar, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down your spine. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Panic surged through you as you realized your escape route was cut off. You glanced around the store, searching for another way out, but Taehyung's hand clamped down on your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

The clerk did not care to intervene; he knew their faces and what they represented. One girl was not worth the trouble for him.

"Let's go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You had no choice but to follow, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. As you stepped out of the store, the chilly night air hit you, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of Taehyung beside you. You scanned the street for any potential way out, but Taehyung's grip on your arm tightened, steering you toward a nearby alley.

You stumbled slightly, trying to keep pace with him. The alley was dark and narrow, the perfect place for someone to disappear. Desperation surged through you, fueling your determination. You had to find a way out of this.

"You lasted more than I expected, Peaches. I have to give you that." You fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. Taehyung's voice, usually smooth and melodic, now held an edge of something darker, something sinister.

"But it's time to go home."

The weight of his intentions pressed down on you like a heavy stone. You did not know what home he was speaking of. Your home? Namjoon's home? You'd never been there; you couldn't know what home he meant. But something told you that wherever he'd take you, "home" would be a gilded cage, a place of confinement disguised as comfort.

You remained silent, your jaw clenched in defiance as you continued to walk, your eyes darting around the alley for any sign of escape. But every corner seemed to lead to another dead end, and the walls closed in around you like a vice.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the desperation hit your nerves. Taehyung's grip tightened slightly, as if warning you against any further attempts at escape.

"There was no need to run, Peaches." Wasn't there? You stopped to think for a minute. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

With a sudden burst of strength, you twisted out of Taehyung's grip and bolted. The sound of his shout echoed behind you, but you didn't look back. You darted through the maze of backstreets, your only goal to put as much distance between you and Taehyung as possible.

Reaching a dead end, you spotted a fire escape ladder. Without a second thought, you began climbing, your fingers slipping on the cold metal. You reached the rooftop, not daring to look back as you sprinted across the gravel. The cityscape stretched before you, a chaotic playground of rooftops and danger.

You leaped from one building to the next, each landing jarring your bones, but you couldn't stop. You heard Taehyung's voice calling your name, a mix of frustration and anger, but you didn't dare slow down. You reached the edge of a particularly wide gap between buildings and hesitated, just a split second too long.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back. You thrashed, but the grip was unyielding. Jungkook's face came into view, his expression grim. He was faster than Taehyung, and you knew your chances to outrun him were slight, but you still hoped.

"You can't run forever, Peaches," he said quietly, almost regretfully. You could hear Taehyung's leather boots stomping against the roof's concrete and his ragged breath in unison.

You struggled, kicking and clawing, but he held firm. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Just then, you heard the uncomfortable digital sound of the Motorola flip phone that was in Taehyung's hand once he stopped in front of you.

"Hmm?" Taehyung answered the phone and ended the gut-wrenching sound. You knew who was on the other side of the line. Jungkook still held you securely, his eyes never leaving yours.

There was a pause, and then he handed you the phone.

"Your Mr. Man wants to speak to you."

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the phone heavy in your hand. With a deep breath, you brought it to your ear, steeling yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Namjoon.

"Hello?" Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear and uncertainty swirling within you.

"You're losing sleep, love," he said, his tone smooth but laced with a menacing undertone. You took a shaky breath.

"S-so are you." He chuckled. You bit the inside of your lip out of nerves.

"I'd sleep better if you came back to me like the good girl I know you are."

The mixture of his charm and underlying threat was intoxicating and terrifying.

"I can't, Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't live like this anymore. I never wanted to live like this, and you knew that."

"Life is just about to begin for you, love—" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Our life," he added, and your grip tightened around the phone.

"What does that even mean?" you demanded, a mix of anger and desperation coloring your words.

"It means," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "that whatever you fear, we'll figure this out together."

"Please, Namjoon," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "Let me go. I can't. I just can't," you cried out.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, hoping against hope that he might relent. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and helplessness.

"Freedom is an illusion, love," he said, almost gently. "The only freedom you'll ever have is with me. Now, come back. We'll talk this through, and I promise you, everything will be fine. Just trust me."

"Namjoon—"

"Peaches—" he quickly interrupted your attempt to plead again.

"Don't make me take harsher measures to ensure you'll come back to me." His tone grew colder, the underlying threat unmistakable.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked, a tremor in your voice.

"You know what I can do. It would be a shame if the same thing happened to someone else you care about." His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.

You looked at Jungkook and Taehyung, their faces impassive yet resolute. They were ready to enforce Namjoon's will, no matter the cost.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, voice quivering.

"We can talk about that once you come home," Namjoon replied, his voice smooth but unyielding.

"Namjoon, please..." you started, desperation lacing your words.

"Enough, Peaches," he cut you off sharply. "You know what's at stake. I expect you back within an hour. Hand the phone to Taehyung."

With a heavy heart, you handed the phone back to Taehyung. He took it, his eyes filled with a mix of pity, but you didn't think it was genuine. You felt Jungkook's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to let you go.

Taehyung listened to Namjoon for a moment, then nodded. "Understood," he said before hanging up. He looked at you, his expression resigned.

"Let's go," he said softly.

You don't even know how you managed to fall asleep in the car. They took your bag, draped a warm blanket over you, and sat you down on the back seat. You did not protest anymore, even though the thought of jumping out of the car went through your head briefly.

You thought of your father, your friends, and everyone you ever met and cared for when he took the ultimate move that would make you leave everything in a heartbeat. You don't want more blood on your hands.

At the same time, you could not understand why Namjoon would take such harsh measures. This wasn't the Namjoon you knew—heck, you don't even know if you ever knew that man.

The lavish room surrounding you was magnificent and screaming one name: Namjoon. Even his scent was clinging to every single piece of the room. The silk sheets clung to your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes again. The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.

You could hear the audible difference in your surroundings. The Bronx had a distinctive hum, a chaotic symphony of life and struggle. But this—this was different. The sounds outside the open window were unmistakably Manhattan. The distant buzz of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the muffled chatter of people far below created a stark contrast to the quiet tension inside.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. Every moment spent here felt like a betrayal to the life you once knew, the people you once loved. But escape wasn't just about physical freedom—it was about breaking free from the psychological chains Namjoon had wrapped around you.

You did not know whether you weren't running for the hills now because this oddly feels like you are meant to be here or because you don't know if you should. You spent a lot of time rolling around and thinking about this. You had not come to a conclusion yet. You'd only decided that you would give him the courtesy to talk after all the years that he and his family supported you by giving you a job.

With that resolve, you climbed out of bed, feeling the weight of silk sheets slipping away. The cold floor sent a shiver up your spine, bringing you fully awake. You made your way to the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you. You need a haircut, maybe even a new hair color.

The shower's hot water provided a temporary refuge, washing away the grime and tension of the past few days. After drying off, you dressed in clothes Namjoon had probably laid out for you—an unspoken reminder of his control.

You entered the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast hung in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the rich aroma of bacon and eggs, momentarily distracting you. You were starving.

As you moved further into the room, a sudden noise made you jump. Startled, you turned to see a figure in a white chef's uniform bustling about the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you.

"Good morning, Misses Kim," he said with a polite nod. "I didn't expect you to be up so early.” The title he used sent a shiver down your spine. Misses Kim. It was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with the weight of an identity that wasn’t yours to claim. You overlooked yourself and your attire.

You could see your bra-less breasts and perky nipples through that white tanktop, but the chef was trained well enough to not look that way. He would most likely be beheaded by Namjoon if he would dare to look that way.

"Good morning," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of nerves and hunger. You forced a small smile.

The chef, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set down the spatula he was holding and wiped his hands on a towel. "My name is Seo Kang-joon, Misses Kim. I'm Sajangnim's private chef—" you figured that much. Of course that man has a private chef when he cannot boil a potato for the love of God.

"He tasked me to make you some breakfast and tell you he'll be with you shortly," he explained, gesturing to the array of food laid out on the counter.

You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Your stomach growled audibly, and despite the chaos in your mind, the food before you was an undeniable lure. You picked up a piece of toast, buttering it slowly as Kang-joon resumed his work.

"How long have you been working for Namjoon?" you asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than your own anxious thoughts.

Kang-joon glanced up from the stove, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "About three years now," he replied. "I've switched with my Appa; he was working for the Kims for two generations and now it's my turn—"

"That's a long time," you said, taking a bite of the toast, the warmth of the food providing a small comfort.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "Namjoon is a good employer, he's always treated us fairly. And he cares about you a great deal—"

"I've seen you before, didn't I?" you interrupted, suddenly recalling a moment that had slipped through your mind like sand.

"At the private party last month. You were serving food, right?"

Kang-joon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, that was me. I remember seeing you there, although you were quite busy too—"

You were supposed to be waitressing the tables, plural, yet you only waitressed one table that night. As per usual.

"Yep, that was my reality, I guess," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this."

Kang-joon's expression turned somber, and he stopped cooking momentarily.

"Namjoon doesn't let anyone near you, but I've seen how happy you make him. He's different around you." Of course he thinks so. You don't blame him for his inability to see through this. It's not his place.

You fell silent, pondering his words. The chaos of Namjoon's life and the dark undercurrents that surrounded him felt suffocating. "But at what cost?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"He means well—" he paused his thought and got silent, and you knew that means only one thing.

"I appreciate your loyalty to him," you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on your lips.

"Good morning, love," he said, his voice deep and commanding. His eyes darted between you and Kang-joon, who stood with a spatula in hand, caught in the moment. "I hope you're both having a pleasant chat."

Kang-joon bowed slightly, and you could see the way he was careful to keep his composure, even as the atmosphere shifted with Namjoon's presence. "I was just finishing up breakfast, Sajangnim," he said politely. "Miss Kim and I were discussing your—"

"Thank you, Kang-joon," Namjoon interrupted, his tone suggesting a mixture of gratitude and an underlying tension. "I can take it from here."

The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You looked at him, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting to demand answers.

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

The air crackled with tension as Namjoon's words hung in the space between you, a provocation that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your breath hitch, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.

"So that's the plan now?" you lowered your voice.

His expression softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict etched across his features. "I thought you'd want that kind of future with me, Peaches. I thought we were on the same page from day one."

Despite Namjoon's willingness to talk, the remnants of fear and frustration churned within you, threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your heart raced, the urge to flee growing stronger. He reached out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.

"I love you, baby."

Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a tumultuous blend of emotions crashing over you. You stood up from the stool you were sitting at, calmly aiming for the door. You didn't know what you were doing with this lame attempt to flee.

"Hey—" he shouted, but you did not stop. You could feel Namjoon's gaze burning into your back as you moved toward the door, his loud steps right behind you making you speed up the process.

You couldn't stop. The need to escape overwhelmed you, propelling you forward. You flung the door open, the sharp sound echoing in the silence that followed.

"Peaches!" he shouted again, his voice rising with urgency and desperation. The door rattled on its hinges as he leaned against it, trying to process what had just happened.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew he had pushed too hard, but he couldn't help it.

You trembled under him, still facing the door while his arm was outstretched, palms on the door, blocking you from opening it again. Your breath quickened as you stood there, the cool metal of the doorknob biting into your palm. You could feel Namjoon's presence behind you.

"Let me go, Namjoon," you demanded, your voice steady but wavering just slightly. The pounding of your heart felt like a war drum, urging you to flee, to escape this suffocating moment.

"You would come back to me nonetheless." You turned around to face him, your expression a blend of defiance and vulnerability.

"What makes you think I would?" you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. The intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within you.

"Because you love me back—" He leaned down, not giving you time to argue, and seized the chance to crash his lips down on yours for the first time.

His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into yours. Your heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as his tongue danced with yours in a heated embrace.

Namjoon's fingers dug into your skin, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was trying to brand you as his own. The kiss was raw, primal, and all-consuming, leaving you both breathless and wanting more.

Namjoon's eyes locked onto yours, the fire within them burning brighter than ever before. With a low growl, he pulled you close again, his lips crashing down on yours once more as the world around you continued to spin.

As the kiss broke, Namjoon pulled away, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm not done being angry," you said, your voice low but unwavering. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it both thrilled and terrified you.

Namjoon's brow furrowed slightly, surprise mingling with the intensity in his gaze. "I know that," he replied, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.

"Good," you spoke right to his lips, your heart still racing from the kiss. The mix of confusion and desire swirled within you, and you struggled to keep your composure.

The cognac brown couch was very comfortable, its soft cushions inviting you to sink in and relax. A glass coffee table with sleek chrome legs stood in front of it, its surface adorned with a stack of art books, a few scattered magazines, and a vintage crystal ashtray. So Namjoon.

A large, floor-to-ceiling window occupied one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A Persian rug, with intricate patterns in deep reds and blues, covered the polished hardwood floor, adding a touch of warmth and history to the contemporary space. Again, so Namjoon.

He was crouched down by the fireplace that dominated the place, his back to you. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, its light dancing over Namjoon's broad shoulders. He started the fire because he saw you shivering. But that had nothing to do with you being cold, and deep down he knew that too. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the floor as he stared into the flames.

You walked over to him, your footsteps silent on the plush rug. As you approached, Namjoon turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. You sat down next to him.

"So, how do you imagine all this working?" you asked, your voice gentle yet tinged with the underlying frustration you felt.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Just like it did till now."

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

"So I'm gonna go back to working in Anubis and you are going to keep shooting everyone who gets closer to me?!" you said, a bit harsher than you intended. Namjoon's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration.

"You are not coming back to work in Anubis, let's start with that," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"My oh my, now you want to take the source of my income too." Namjoon shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

"You're my woman, Peaches. You don't need to work for money anymore," he started, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You can't be serious."

"Women in our clan don't work for decades, my woman is not gonna work either. At least not like that—" You narrowed your eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and intrigue at his declaration.

"That's not who I am, Namjoon." He leaned in closer, the firelight casting a warm glow over his chiseled features.

"Baby, I'm not asking you. I'm offering you the life you always deserved." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.

"I've always been able to take care of myself."

“So now let me take care of you, sweetling.”

Your mind raced as you considered his words. The allure of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the stress of making ends meet, was tempting. But was it worth giving up your autonomy?

“You can still pursue your passions. I’m not taking that away from you,—” Namjoon paused, his expression softening.

“But no Anubis,” he took your hands into his.

“What do you want?” You asked quietly. He held your gaze, the firelight flickering across his face, illuminating the resolve etched in his features.

“I think I made my intentions strictly clear today.” He chuckled and exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m not just talking about safety and comfort, Peaches. I’m talking about us. About building a life together.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was determination.

“You want me to be your… what, exactly?” You knew, you just still didn’t want to believe it.

Namjoon leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. “I want you to be mine—”

“Mind and body, heart and soul.” Namjoon's voice was low and earnest, each word weighted with sincerity.

You swallowed hard, trying to process the depth of what he was asking. “You mean… you want me to commit completely? To be yours in every sense?”

“And I’ll be yours.” He nodded, his eyes unwavering, filled with a mixture of affection and intensity. You felt a rush of emotions—a blend of excitement and fear.

“I can give you a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder, where you can focus on what truly matters to you—your dreams, your passions, us.”

The promise of safety and love hung heavy in the air between you, and while the thought was tempting, a part of you still clung to your independence. It would be nice not to work long night hours in a bar full of drunk people to make ends meet. Not walking home with keys in your hand in case someone would jump you over or worse. Not living in a small old rusty apartment with your father who barely brought any income home.

The fire crackled softly, and you could feel the warmth radiating from it, mirroring the warmth blooming in your chest.

“I need time.” Namjoon’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed your words. But he didn’t let go of your hands. Instead, he brought them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his gaze unwavering.

“Time,” he echoed, the word almost foreign as it left his mouth. “You already had plenty of time.” The firelight cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity etched into every line.

“You think time will change how you feel? Or how much I want you?” You felt a tremor run through you at the weight of his words. It was suffocating and yet strangely comforting, like a trap laced with silk, binding you softly but securely.

“No, Namjoon, I’m just—” Namjoon’s fingers brushed along your jawline, tipping your face up so that you met his gaze directly.

“I get that this must be overwhelming for you, but the time you are asking for is already up and done—”

“I didn’t know it was ticking,” you began, voice barely more than a whisper. Namjoon tilted his head, studying you, his lips quirking into a small, almost understanding smile.

“No more hidden exits, no more plans to escape. I want you here, with me, committed… without looking for a way out. And in return, I’ll take care of you and your father. That’s my promise to you.”

The warmth in his eyes almost made you believe that he meant well, that beneath the possessive intensity was a genuine desire to protect and love. Yet a lingering voice inside you warned that this love would be an all-consuming fire—one that would consume every part of you until there was nothing left to call your own.

Your mind was racing for the answer. If you say yes, you may as well forget who you were, but perhaps you will find yourself where you always wanted to be. Someone. But what if you say no?

“What if I won’t agree, Namjoon?” You asked, scared for the answer. Namjoon’s gaze darkened, the softness slipping away as his grip tightened just enough for you to feel the control he had over the situation. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Peaches, let's not pretend that you really have a choice here." His tone was calm, as if explaining something simple, obvious, like the inevitability of night following day.

"Your father," he began slowly, each word dripping with calculated weight, "he's in no position to take care of himself, is he? Without you, what would he do? You've been carrying his burden for years, haven't you? Always working to support him, protecting him, making sure he's safe…"

His voice lowered, softening almost to a whisper, but it was filled with a quiet menace. "But if you refuse me… well, who do you think is going to keep him safe then?"

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, dread creeping into every corner of your mind as you took in his words. This was the second time he was threatening your father.

"What is wrong with you?" You said coldly, staring daggers at his pretty face.

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice laced with a faint, mocking laugh. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Peaches. I'm making sure you understand the lengths I'm willing to go to keep you by my side. You think I'd just stand by and watch you slip away? Again?"

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight but loaded with a silent threat. "I know you love your father," he murmured, voice a dangerous purr. "And that's why I'm reminding you of what's at stake."

You felt anger and fear twist inside you. He let his hand fall, watching your reaction with unsettling calmness, as if daring you to resist. Namjoon had you cornered, and he knew it. Every ounce of control you'd thought you held slipped further from your grasp, his quiet threats carving invisible chains around you.

"Why would you put me in this position?" He sighed, his lips curving into a faint, almost pitying smile as he tilted his head, studying you.

"Because I've been loving you for years, and when I can finally have you, you are trying toplay feminist."

The words hit you like a slap, raw and stinging. You swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes. That faint smile on his lips held no warmth; it was twisted with something darker, something possessive.

"Play feminist?" you echoed, your voice wavering with anger and disbelief. "Namjoon, wanting to make my own choices doesn't mean I'm defying you or 'playing' anything. It means I'm a person, with my own will—"

He cut you off, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head slowly, almost as if you'd amused him.

“Peaches, you still don’t understand, do you? I’m offering you a world where you’re safe, where you don’t have to fight every day to survive. You’d rather keep struggling, keep pretending you’re content living in that cramped one bedroom apartment while your father brings home beer money when you are fighting off every hardship, and here I am, ready to give you the life you deserve.”

His fingers gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with conviction.

“You think you want freedom, independence. But freedom isn’t safe, Peaches. Freedom won’t love you like I do. It won’t sacrifice or protect. It won’t give you everything at the cost of its own soul.”

He released you, letting his hand fall away, his gaze darkening. “This isn’t some game, and it isn’t about principles. It’s about us. And if that means you have to surrender some of that so-called independence, then so be it. I know what’s best for you, Peaches. You just need to stop fighting and see that.”

Namjoon’s gaze shifted to something darker, more resolute, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. The firelight glinted off the soft pink morganite stone, antique piece that must have been in his kin for decades, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He held it up, his jaw set, the unspoken command clear in the way he presented it to you.

“Peaches,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm, “will you marry me?”

Before you could even think to pull away, he took your hand firmly, holding it in place as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was cold against your skin, the weight of it foreign and heavy.

“Say yes.” His voice was low, steady, a dangerous edge lurking beneath the calm exterior. His eyes bore into yours, unwavering, challenging you to defy him. “Say it, Peaches. Agree to be mine, completely, or I’ll make sure you lose everything you’ve been holding onto.”

You felt trapped, his hand tightening around yours as if to remind you of his control over the situation. Your heart raced, your throat dry, as the words hovered on the edge of your lips, unable to escape. But he didn’t let go, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unyielding determination.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, the softness slipping into something harder, more commanding.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a feeling of resignation sinking deep into your chest as you stared at the ring, its delicate beauty now a symbol of your surrender.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips.

A smile spread across Namjoon’s face, slow and triumphant, as he released your hand, the weight of the ring now settling fully onto your finger. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“There,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“That’s my good girl.”

"Where's my bag?" you start sharply the moment Namjoon walks in, shrugging off the coat from his so-called 'business meeting.' You were obviously not allowed to sit in because women here do not work once they have a ring on their finger. Not like you are dying to be a part of a criminal syndicate that has its roots deeply set in this society. The air between you two is thick, a palpable tension that crackles like static before a storm.

"I looked everywhere, but I cannot seem to find it—"

Successful distilleries may be carrying the Jung name, yet other family members have their own shares of the money capital of the clan, Namjoon not being an exception. His name is presented on each brandy bottle you have had the chance to pour from. But what actually lies under the façade of crystal-clear bottles of whiskey and brandy remains unknown to the upper world.

When you met Namjoon, you didn't see a crime lord. You saw a man with ambition, with a drive that matched yours. But somewhere along the line, his ambition became chains around your wrists, tying you to a life you never chose. That's when you decided that working in Anubis would be only a "college" solution before you would leave the city.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What bag?"

"You know exactly which bag," you snap, stepping closer. Namjoon's eyes darken, his jaw tightening.

"How about we start on lunch?" he suggests, trying to ignore your pleas.

"No," you insist, voice trembling with anger. "I want my bag. I want my money."

"I thought we had settled this last night, didn't we?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Settled? You think you can just placate me and everything will be fine? That money is mine, Namjoon. I earned it."

He steps closer, his presence intimidating but you hold your ground. "Peaches, you ought to be my wife, what's mine is yours. You don't need that money."

You stand firm, not backing down. "Need it or not, it's mine. I worked for it, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You think you can just walk out with that money? You think you can use it to just leave?"

"No, I—" Namjoon steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching into fists. "I earned that money, and I deserve to use it as I see fit."

"If you want to spend money, we can go shopping—" His presence overwhelming and oppressive. His words angering you even more.

"SHOPPING?! Are you fucking serious? This isn't about buying things, Namjoon. This is about my life, my choices."

Before you can continue your rambling, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, his grip like iron. His lips crash onto yours in a bruising, dominating kiss, meant to remind you of his power over you. You struggle, but his hold is unyielding, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

"If you're gonna drop that honorific one more time—" Namjoon's eyes blaze with fury as he keeps you close, his grip almost painful.

"I won't—" you spit out, defiance still burning in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "If you give me my money back. I have a right to it." Namjoon laughs coldly, shaking his head.

"Let's just have lunch, Peaches, before I lose my patience completely—" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. You glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Not until you give me my money back." His expression hardens, the cold amusement vanishing.

"You really want to push this, don't you?"

"Yes," you say, your voice unwavering. "Favor for favor, isn't it the mantra y'all go by?" A smirk playing on his lips when you finish the sentence.

"Everything you need, I provide." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I worked for that money, Namjoon. I deserve to have control over it."

He steps closer again, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looks down at you. "Control? You want control? Fine," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I've deposited them into an account I opened in your name, joint with mine, naturally," he says, his words carrying that same cool, possessive edge.

"What?" you gasp, your disbelief palpable. "You what?"

"I will give you your black card," he repeats, his lips curling into a taunting smile "—once you prove not to be a flight risk, baby." Namjoon tilts his head, the smirk never fading. This, in essence, means that every single transaction will be noticed. You will withdraw the money from the card—he will know. You will attempt to transfer them to a different account? He will fucking know. The implications hitting you like a gut punch. Your blood runs cold as his words sink in.

"I'm not stupid, Peaches. I know that we gotta work on our relationship." He steps even closer, his gaze intense, pinning you in place. "Let's work on that trust first, and then you can have money at your disposal."

Your heart beats in your throat, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Trust? The word feels like a cruel joke coming from him.Trust?

"I'm not one of your assets, Namjoon," you spit out, your voice thick with defiance. "And I won't be treated like one." His towering form casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, his eyes soften, as if he's pitying you.

"You don't have a choice, baby." His tone shifts again, dripping with that same chilling calm.

"When you prove you can stay and play nice, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you have some freedom with your own damn money." And just like that, he's already begun dictating the terms of your life again, his grip on you tighter than ever before.

The missing duffle bag with your money was among the least of your worries when you realized what else the duffle bag possessed.

"You have my passport, Namjoon, how can I run away?" Namjoon's eyes flicker, the amusement fading slightly, but his smirk doesn't falter. He's been expecting this—he always expects everything.

Namjoon's smile is slow, deliberate, almost cruel. "I've taken what I need to keep you close." Namjoon leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

You're nauseous, the implication of his words settling over you like a weight you can't shake off. He is holding the strings to everything, but that only made you realize that you had a hell of a lot of thinking and plotting to do to get out of here. And the most intrusive thought back in your head, where you consider staying here and embracing this finally official relationship, has to go—quickly.

"So, what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. "You plan on keeping me locked up forever, Namjoon-oppa?" Namjoon only smiles, cold and confident.

"No baby. But I will keep you very close, until I can trust you." Your skin prickles where his fingers brush, but you don't pull away. You can't. The need to stay composed, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, fights against the rising tide of rage and fear in your chest.

"And what do you want me to do to earn it, Namjoon?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. "Beg? Crawl? Pretend everything is fine when it's not?" He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he's piecing together in real time. The silence that follows is thick with tension. He stands so close now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"So, lunch it is then?"

His tone is mockingly light, but there's a sharp edge beneath it when he tries to abandon the conversation, the kind that makes you feel trapped.

The black Mercedes hums smoothly along the Bronx streets, its sleek exterior reflecting the gray clouds above. It's going to snow any day now. Inside, the air is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding between the two passengers.

You sit in the backseat, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of your dress, the smooth fabric barely registering under your touch. Your sunglasses hide the unease in your eyes, but the tightness in your chest is something you can't disguise.

Today feels different.

Namjoon sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze fixed ahead, while his hand is warm on your thigh. You are staring at your shoes. Isn't this what you wanted? To ride in an expensive car, wearing Saint Laurent pointy-toed heels? A form-fitting dress with a high neck reveals your figure subtly, and the hungry look Namjoon gave you when you stepped out of the wardrobe did not go unnoticed. Something feels different, as if you're playing dress-up. The allure of the life Namjoon offers, it all feels strangely distant.

You eye him carefully—his black turtleneck is tailored to fit perfectly, sleek and minimalistic. Over it, a black suit jacket, structured but not overly stiff, gives him a commanding presence. His black slacks match the simplicity and power of his look, polished and clean.

The cold air bites against your skin, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around your shoulders, trying to shield yourself from the chill that seems to creep through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Thank you for letting me see my father," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet heavy with meaning.

"You don't have to thank me—" he says quietly, his voice low, almost intimate. His gaze doesn't soften, but there's something in the way he stands, commanding yet calm, that makes your heart race. The chill of the early morning seems to deepen, pressing in on you, yet you're acutely aware of the warmth of his presence, the heat of his body just a little too close.

"I couldn't have kept you from seeing him," Namjoon continues, his tone flat, as if he's simply stating a fact.

"But keep in mind that this is a privilege—you misbehave, you won't see him." His eyes lock with yours, not with malice, but with a cold certainty that makes your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. The last thing you want now is to provoke him further, to find out just how far his power reaches.

"Engaged?!" disbelief and shock etched into the features of your father when you sat down at the kitchen table after you collected some of the things you wished to take with you. You nod, your heart racing.

"Yes, Dad. It just happened. I wanted you to know first." Your father's gaze shifts to Namjoon, his face a storm of emotions—anger, disbelief, worry.

"Peaches, do you know what you're doing? This man is nearly a decade older than you," he whispers your way, his voice trembling with concern.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not that big, Dad. I know it's a lot to take in, but Namjoon and I—we're serious about this." You never knew how good you were at lying until today. Your father's eyes narrow, his gaze flicking between you and Namjoon.

"When did this relationship even happen? Is he holding you against your will?!" he demands, his tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your smile freezes for a moment, and you try your best not to give yourself away.

"No, Dad, that happens only in movies," you reply, attempting a light-hearted tone to deflect his suspicion. Maybe this is what Namjoon meant by earning trust.

Your father's gaze remains hard, but he doesn't push further. Instead, he turns to Namjoon, his voice cold and edged with protectiveness. "You better take care of her, Namjoon. If anything happens to her, I won't forgive you."

Namjoon smiles proudly at you, almost missing your father's harsh words. His confidence in you seems unshaken.

"You have my word," he replies simply, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, staring at the shiny peachy morganite.

You were never religious enough to step foot in a church after you were christened as a baby. Your parents were indifferent to faith, more focused on the struggles of daily life than spiritual obligations. But your now husband-to-be came from very religious kin, and he himself was a God's worshipper. Ironic enough when he managed to break the Ten Commandments before sipping his morning coffee.

His family, deeply rooted in tradition and devout faith, expected nothing less than a grand celebration steeped in religious customs. The thought of walking down an aisle, flanked by stained glass and the scent of incense, felt foreign and overwhelming.

The morning sun poured into the grand church, illuminating the ornate stained glass that depicted scenes of devotion and reverence. As you and Namjoon stepped through the heavy wooden doors, a wave of warmth enveloped you, mingling with the scent of polished wood and candle wax. It felt like stepping into another world, one where faith and family intertwined seamlessly.

You could see familiar faces sitting on the wooden benches. Kim Taehyung smirking your way when he glanced at your hand interlocked with Namjoon's. He was sitting next to Mr. Jung, whom you recognized by his mullet, and the next seat was occupied by the one and only Mrs. Jung, whom you hadn't seen for a good amount of time. There were also some faces that you did not recognize, yet they still felt familiar to you. You couldn't help but notice the way the Kims and Jungs interacted, the warmth of their bonds evident in the way they smiled, laughed, and shared stories during the prayers. Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing for that sense of belonging.

As the service began, the congregation settled into a peaceful quiet, the sounds of rustling papers and shifting bodies fading into the background. The priest took his place at the altar, his voice echoing through the high ceilings as he began to speak about love, commitment, and the sacred bonds of marriage. Each word resonated deeply within you, pulling at your heartstrings as you thought of your impending union. As it was explained to you, this Mass was held as the announcement of your engagement—one of many traditions they had.

Namjoon sat beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the promise you had made. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and unwavering, as if he were silently urging you to embrace this new chapter of your life. But the weight of that ring on your finger felt heavier than ever in this moment.

"Love is not merely a feeling; it's a choice," the priest's voice boomed, and you glanced at Namjoon, catching the flicker of expectation in his eyes. "It's a daily commitment to one another, a promise to uphold each other through trials and triumphs alike."

You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you like a physical presence. You wondered if love really was a choice—or if, in your case, it was a bargain made under duress. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of the hold he had over your life.

This was the first time he took you out of the penthouse since the day you woke up in his bed for the first time. He simply did not trust you enough to go out in public with you just yet. Hence, his hand remained on yours in a very obsessive manner, as if you were to fly away at any moment.

The priest continued, "Marriage is a sacred bond, one that should be approached with reverence and care. It's not merely about sharing a life together but about supporting and uplifting one another, about being the anchor when the storms come." He paused, letting his words sink in.

Your mind wandered back to your father, the struggles he faced, and how Namjoon had used that vulnerability to secure your loyalty. The contrast between the priest's idealistic views on love and your reality felt stark. How could you ever find true happiness in a union that felt more like a transaction than a partnership? You were feeling heavy.

"And today," the priest announced, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone's attention, "we gather not only to worship but to celebrate the union of two souls destined to walk together."

Your breath caught in your throat, and a mix of emotions surged through you. Murmurs of congratulations rippled through the congregation, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you, some filled with excitement, others with curiosity. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes gleaming with pride.

You could feel your cheeks flush as the reality of your situation sank in deeper. The ring on your finger felt like a shackle, the promises made a binding contract that left little room for your own desires.

"I—" you started, but the words felt stuck in your throat. "I need to go to the restroom, Namjoon."

His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Now?" he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear, but firm enough to convey his displeasure. "We're in the middle of the service."

Namjoon hesitated, weighing your request against the backdrop of the ceremony. Finally, he released your hand but leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Make it quick, baby."

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of freedom. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise quiet sanctuary. The sound felt amplified in your ears, a reminder of the attention you were drawing as you navigated through the rows of wooden pews. You could feel the weight of curious gazes following you, some filled with anticipation, others with judgment. It was as if the congregation sensed the tension between you and Namjoon, the unspoken power dynamics playing out in real time.

You pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glare, highlighting the contrast between the serenity of the service and the storm swirling within you.

Leaning against the sink, you took a moment to catch your breath. The reflection staring back at you was a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, a girl caught between two worlds.

"Why am I still here?" you whispered to your reflection, the question echoing back at you. You thought of the life you had envisioned for yourself, one filled with love, laughter, and independence, not one governed by fear and obligation.

"I fucked up." After a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself. You needed to return before he would throw a tantrum, as he loved to do whenever you were away from him for longer than ten minutes. Paranoid bastard. You glanced at your watch and noted that only a few minutes had passed. With a resigned sigh, you turned to leave, determination flooding your veins.

As you exited the restroom, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed and an expression that mixed concern and annoyance. His posture was protective, yet the underlying tension in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed himself from the wall only to walk towards you, making you take a few steps back into the restroom. His eyes never left yours even when he closed the door and locked it from inside, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

The reality of your situation pressed down on you, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. He moved closer, his eyes dark and intent.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied when you asked him why he wasn't upstairs, his tone both soothing and authoritative.

"You know how important this day is, right? I can't have you slipping away from me."

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment," you insisted, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn't convinced.

"You can be honest, Peaches," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. "You're in a room full of people celebrating our engagement, and yet you're out here trying to escape."

His words struck a nerve, and you crossed your arms defensively. "I'm not trying to escape," you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

"Okay," he said calmly, staring intensely into your eyes, as if he was trying to read you. A small smirk played at the corners of his lips, but the tension in the air remained thick. You did not expect him to drop the topic that quickly.

"I just needed to collect my thoughts," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," he murmured again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you even more, his body radiating warmth that both comforted and unsettled you. He was standing there, inches away from you, yet he was not taking any action.

"W-why are you so calm, what are you doing, Namjoon?" you asked, trying to grasp his demeanor which you yet again did not understand.

"Waiting—"

"Can we just go back to the ceremony?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Namjoon's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Not yet, my love," he whispered back, his voice low and husky. Namjoon's fingers traced the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I longed to show you just who you belong to for years."

"You're fucking stunning, Peaches," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Namjoon's fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your breasts. You felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, and you knew that you were in trouble.

"Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We can't do this here, we're in a church." You tried to push him away.

"You are something I can sin for," he whispered back, his voice low and seductive. You tried to pull away, but Namjoon held you firm, his grip unyielding.

"Namjoon, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension.

But Namjoon was relentless, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you quivering with pleasure. "You're mine, Peaches," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

Namjoon's lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours, and you felt your body respond to his every touch. As you kissed, Namjoon's hand slid between your legs, and he began to caress you through your dress. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, trembling with the sudden pleasure.

"Namjoon," you whispered urgently, "we have to stop." Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the mirror after he lifted you onto the counter, plunging himself between your legs.

"No, we don't," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not until I've claimed you as mine."

The church's silence seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. His fingers traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

"What if someone hears?" you breathed again, desperation lacing your voice.

His lips paused just above your collarbone, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. As if the universe was playing by his rules, the choir started to sing. He chuckled.

"You're mine, Peaches. I won't let anyone take you away from me—not today, not ever." He captured your lips again, his kiss deepening with a fervor that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

His hands were exploring the curves of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress higher as he pressed you firmly against the cold surface of the counter.

"Namjoon," you breathed, a mix of excitement and fear knotting in your stomach. "We can't…" you continued your protests.

"But we will." His fingers danced dangerously close to your most sensitive spots, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. You felt your resolve begin to crumble under his touch.

"I've waited too long for this," he murmured, voice a velvet whisper that wrapped around you like a lover's embrace.

"Namjoon," you gasped against his lips, torn between the heady rush of desire and the urgent need to pull back. But with each kiss, each exploration of his hands, your inhibitions began to melt away, surrendering to the intoxicating pull he had over you.

"Just let go," he urged, a soft growl escaping his lips as he pressed his body into yours, making you acutely aware of the hard length that pressed against your core.

"Trust me."

A wild, reckless part of you craved this intimacy, this connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Your mind took you back to all those moments you shared that made your heart flutter and belly tight when you did not know why he made you feel that way.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of your reality pressing heavily on your conscience. His fingers found their way beneath your dress, inching higher until they brushed against your most sensitive skin. You gasped, arching your back involuntarily as pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire in your belly.

"Namjoon!" you cried out, a mixture of pleasure and panic lacing your voice.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued his teasing exploration. With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, heightening your senses and making your breath hitch in your throat.

The air in the restroom felt thick with anticipation, each breath you took mingling with the scent of sandalwood and the faint musk of his skin.

“You’re breath-taking,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.

His fingertips traced closer to where you needed him most, teasing you with the lightest of touches. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that threatened to escape, the heat pooling deep within you almost overwhelming.

“Namjoon…” you whispered, half warning, half plea, torn between your desire for him and the reality of your surroundings.

“—and so wet for me.” He breathed against your skin, his breath sending sparks dancing along your nerves. His tongue danced with yours, a heated exploration that deepened your need for him. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the intoxicating chemistry that crackled between your bodies.

His fingers pressed against you, expertly coaxing soft moans from your lips as he slid one finger inside, filling you completely. You bit down on your lip to stifle your cries, but the pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from the point of contact and pooling low in your stomach.

His eyes sparkled with a predatory intensity, relishing in your reaction. He watched you as if he were savouring a fine wine, taking his time to appreciate every detail of your response.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to maintain any semblance of restraint.

“Oppa.” He growled. The way he said it—deep, possessive—made your heart race faster, each beat echoing in the stillness of the restroom. Namjoon’s fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, curling inside you in a way that sent your mind spiralling.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded, his tone a mix of sultry and demanding, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you unravel under his touch.

You hesitated for a moment, your breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure washed over you. “It feels… amazing,” you managed to whisper, the confession slipping past your lips like a sweet secret. You can regret this later.

“Good,” he murmured, the smirk on his face growing wider. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

His fingers moved faster, building the tension to a near unbearable level, each thrust sending you closer to the brink. The world around you faded completely, leaving just the two of you entwined in this stolen moment of passion, lost in the depths of one another.

“Namjoon. I can’t—” his hand smacked your ass and he deliberately slowed down.

“It’s oppa for you. Don’t make me repeat it again.”

The playful sting of his hand against your skin sent a rush of warmth coursing through you, mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. His voice was firm, but beneath that authority was a hint of something deeper—a promise that ignited a wild excitement within you.

“Oppa,” you whispered breathlessly, the word slipping from your lips like a spell meant just for him.

He smiled, satisfied, and resumed his movements, fingers working expertly inside you again. The pressure built anew, the delightful tension sending electric shocks through your body.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you, Peaches. Let me know how much you need me.”

With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The overwhelming pleasure began to blur the edges of your consciousness, leaving only the sensations that centred on where he was buried within you. The heat intensified, building towards a sweet, dizzying peak, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it.

With a final flick of his fingers, he found that sweet spot inside you, driving you wild. Your body responded in kind, the sensations intertwining with your every thought. You could feel the tightening in your core, the unmistakable signal that you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Namjoon-oppa, I—” you gasped, words failing you as the pleasure escalated.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he murmured, his voice deep and soothing, anchoring you in the moment. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Oppa!" you cried against his mouth, unable to contain the raw need bursting forth from within. Your body trembled, the climax washing over you in a torrent of sensations, enveloping you completely as you surrendered to the bliss. The choir's distant hymns created an almost surreal backdrop to this heated encounter, mixing innocence with your burgeoning desire.

As the pleasure receded, leaving you breathless and dazed, Namjoon held you close, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. You leaned into him, heart racing and body tingling, reveling in the aftershocks of your release.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "To be mine."

Your blurry eyes lifted to look at him, taking him in while you were still panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he made you feel. Flickering down to his bulge covered by the fabric of his black suit pants from Ralph Lauren, your breath hitched again. Enough for him to move his hands to his belt, being absolutely ready to take you. Finally free of his belt, he pulled down his zipper. The fabric of his pants fell open, revealing the outline of his desire, bold and unmistakable.

The urgency of the moment wrapped around you like a tight embrace, making it hard to think straight. You glanced around, the restroom feeling impossibly small, every sound amplified.

"Oppa, please…" you breathed, your heart racing as you tried to pull away, but the undeniable hunger in his gaze anchored you in place. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened with lust. He had a plan, and it made your pulse quicken. You were not sure what you were begging for—to stop or to continue?

If not for the soft knock on the door, he would have taken you right there, on the church's restroom counter. It jolted you both, pulling you back to the reality of your surroundings. A rush of panic surged through you, and you instinctively glanced around the cramped restroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Oppa," you whispered again, this time a plea laced with desire and uncertainty.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a little longer," he promised, his fingers finding their way back to your thighs, gripping you tightly as if to keep you anchored to the moment.

"Just one more time," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I need to feel you—"

"Hyung, I know you will kill me for this, but you need to come back upstairs." The voice—familiar and insistent—cut through the haze of desire that had enveloped you both.

Namjoon's expression flickered from lust to annoyance, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to remind you that this moment was still theirs, even if the world outside was intruding.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. The intensity in his gaze shifted, but it didn't fade. Instead, it turned into something more predatory, a simmering heat that promised this wasn't over.

"We'll be right there!" He shouted back to the voice behind the door. His eyes slowly returned to watch you and your disheveled form after he fingered the fuck out of you.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours once more, and it felt like time stood still. The world around you blurred, and for that moment, it was just the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of passion that defied the reality waiting outside the door.

His forehead remained pressed on yours when he whispered to your lips. “Next time, we won’t be so rushed, I promise.” Pecking your lips, he quickly pulled his pants back up, securing his belt with a swift motion, yet the heat of the moment lingered between you both.

The calm shattered in an instant.

The heavy church door burst open with a deafening crash. Armed men in tactical gear stormed in with raised weapons, their shouts filling the air. Namjoon immediately pushed you behind him, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene with deadly focus.

The thunderous crack of gunfire echoed off the stone walls as the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Namjoon drew a gun from beneath his jacket—like several other family men in attendance—his movements swift and practiced. He returned fire, the muzzle flash illuminating his determined face in bursts of light.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a drum of terror and adrenaline. Huddled behind an overturned pew, you clutched your ears against the deafening noise, eyes wide with shock and fear. Namjoon, breathing heavily, scanned the room one final time before turning to you, his eyes softening for a moment.

"Stay down!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

"Jungkook, get them out!" Namjoon barked, his eyes fixed on the fight.

He reached your side, pulling you up by the arm. Jungkook's grip was firm yet reassuring.

"Come on," he urged, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of violence. He led you through the chaos, his body shielding you from the worst of the gunfire.

Just as you neared the side door, a sharp pain exploded in your side. You stumbled, a cry of agony escaping your lips. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of battle muffled by the roaring in your ears. Looking down, you saw blood spreading across your dress, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat.

"Peaches!"

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𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @hecateslittlewitchling - @ratprincessnr1 - @originalbiscuitfiredreamer - @mggv97 - @urlovelily - @ilys00ga - @beautifulcloudfestival - @herareila @mar-lo-pap

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

see you next time, love, p.

[nebbyy]

Hi! I'm not sure if you are currently taking requests, so feel free to ignore mine if you aren't! If you are taking them, however, would you please write something for King Baldwin IV overhearing reader sing and falling further in love with her because of her soft and sweet voice? Upon realizing that he's there, she becomes extremely flustered and apologizes for disrupting his peace and quiet. Thank you!

King Baldwin IV x reader - Sweetest of melodies

A/N: omg it’s been so long since I’ve received a request! I can’t lie, Baldwin is my supreme comfort character, I think I’ll never stop writing fro him because it gives me sooo much joy😩😩😩 I personally like to think of this piece as taking place a few months after Baldwin’s and reader’s wedding, so it could be considered a sequel for my first fic ever. Also, the song mentioned in this piece is a real song from the 12th century called "Can vei la lauzeta" (in English,"When I see the lark") by Bernart de Ventadorn, and the painting is "Lovers in a garden" by Charles Edward Perugini!!

Oh btw!! I’m working on a long ass series about him, based off of a prompt by @phantomsghoulette  which I absolutely LOVED. Sooo all the KoH fans stay tuned for future updates🤭

Warning: nothing really, just pure fluff. Maybe you could say that religious innuendos could be something triggering for some people but I don’t know. There might be ONE, SLIGHTLY spicy mention but only if you squint really really hard. Also, keep in mind that the historical accuracy in my fics is rather relative, I try to add some details here and there but I don’t have the knowledge (nor the skills) to write a piece 100% accurate to the real history. Also, reader’s gender is female and uses she/her pronouns!!

Word count: 2918

Someone would say Baldwin's patience could already be put to test by only his illness, which she ruthlessly does not grant him a moment's respite, the eternal enemy of his body and his spirit. But no, to this perpetual torment of his had to be added the perilous duties of a king. And it was certainly not governing his people and lands that sucked what little energy he had left; this duty of his, given by his father and willed by divine design, he had long since embraced.

It was the nobles, the leeches who had drained him of his lifeblood lately. It was their endless demands, the insidious words that hissed behind his back, the languid bows and sleazy gifts designed only to gain some favor from him. Looking around him, he seemed to see only vices and sinners, power-hungry beasts just waiting for his moment of weakness so they could feed on what Baldwin had under his power.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, experiencing for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, to experience for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

And he dreamed of taking you with him, imagined how sweet his life would be if his only concerns were taking care of his health and you, faithful wife, sole blessing in his life battered by such burdens. How he would wish that his days would revolve around you, that his first thought in the morning would be riding by your side through the flourishing meadows, and his last thought in the evening would be caressing your face as you lie slumbering in his arms.

It would have been a blissful fate his, if only Sybilla's husband had not died at the very moment when he would have needed him most. If only his mother had not convinced him that Guido de Lusignan was a good fit for his sister and had continued to seek a new consort for her, perhaps that fate would not have been snatched from him so early. Too late to repent now, for Baldwin would have preferred to die agonizingly on his throne rather than leave power in the hands of that bumptious and arrogant lord, who was noble only in title.

And so he found himself in this sort of hellish limbo, forced into a position that should never be required of a man in his condition, but prevented by his morality from abandoning his reign, impelled by faith in God's greater plan, that his suffering should not be in vain.

And his faith always seemed to strengthen when he had a way to escape the stifling air that characterized the throne room, always packed with knights and crusaders and nobles, when he had a way to retreat to the palace gardens, one of the few verdant places in all of Jerusalem.

With slow, swaying steps, Baldwin strolled slowly among the local palm trees and flower beds from the faraway lands, those where men speak Italian and the more distant ones, those from which his fathers came. Exotic fruits mingled with those more congenial to the French, who out of nostalgia for their lands and fields did what they could to bring the seeds of these plants with them to overseas.

His mind seemed to go out, shifting his attention from the constant buzz of court demands and duties to the chirping of birds perched on the roof, to the eviction of the soft branches that shielded him from the scorching sun. He enjoyed the refreshing air that reigned in that small oasis of greens, which was able to infiltrate the fabric of his white robes, crossing the bandages that covered much of his body and finally reaching his skin, numbed by leprosy. 

To tell the truth, of that refreshing sensation little reached his damaged nerves, if not for those few points that had been spared by the merciless disease, from which departed that unusual shiver that caused him a delicate smile of relief, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in, discovering with satisfied surprise that that light gust was also a harbinger of an intoxicating perfume, a mixture of exotic and familiar.

How funny to think of the concept of "exotic", for an Angevin born and raised in the unknown lands of the east. For him it was exotic French fruit, exotic were the green plains and heavy clothing that brought his allies from the northwest, and equally alien to the snowy mountains and forest beasts that he saw drawn in detail in his childhood books. It was these changes of perspective that stimulated his mind in a myriad of thoughts and reflections, but in a pleasurable way for him, not as exhausting as his daily duties.

His reflections on exotic and local made his mind travel, wandering until he came to a subject very close to him: Muslims and Jews, reflecting well on the landscape in front of him, recognized that he could share with them the same concepts of what is foreign and what they can claim the original belonging. And he could not but reflect on how it must have been for the first inhabitants of Jerusalem to observe the Franks who came as conquerors, and filled their gardens with such foreign plants as those pale warriors who had taken possession of their dwelling... But after all, the French soldiers who were emissaries of God’s will needed something familiar to stabilize them as they fought to reclaim the Promised Land, ut Deus voluit.

But all his brooding over these matters of conquest and submission ended up in the background in his mind, when a colorful scarlet sphere caught his attention. An exquisitely red apple seemed to tempt him from a branch just above his head, beckoning him to be picked and savored by the king, that he might lose himself in the juicy sweetness of that fruit with origins so far removed from the Holy Land. But the king's modesty prevented him from yielding to that temptation, wanting to avoid exposing the advanced state of deterioration in which his mouth was.

And in fact if that temptation had been alive it would have pale in front of something much more captivating, a sound that echoed in the most melodious distance of the song of any nightingale. Baldwin was surprised to think that he had not realized before the melody that inibriated the atmosphere around him, so taken by the tribulations of his mind that he almost missed such an intoxicating song. He did not know what he felt once he arrived in Heaven, if he had ever arrived in spite of the unjust fate in Hell that the evil Saracens wished him. He didn’t know it, but if one ever had to imagine what Heaven sounded like, that song would come to mind.

When I see the lark beating 

Its wings in joy against the rays of the sun 

That it forgets itself and lets itself fall 

Because of the sweetness that comes to its heart

She sang in Occitan, the beautiful one in the distance. The voice of his people, of his lineage, that few in the palace can pronounce after so many years of distance from their homeland in Provence. Paying more attention to the echoing song, he would not even have had to approach it to give a face to that melodic voice: he knew how to recognize his wife’s voice.

Yet it was a new context in which he saw you, new facets of you that he had not yet had a chance to observe. Your voice, sweet as honey, venerable like all your other traits, he had never heard it except in speech, when you were proclaiming orders before your subjects with the authority fit for a queen, or when you laughed at the poems and performances of the court singers, or when you whispered in Baldwin’s ears sweet words, while you lay with bodies merged between the soft silk sheets. Always spoken, but never sung.

Alas! Such great envy then overwhelms me 

Of all those whom I see rejoicing,

But though he didn’t need to approach you to recognize you, the desire to see your face exceeded any of his other needs. As if mesmerized by the sound of a siren, Baldwin was advancing towards you, with steps so slow that it seemed a hunter about to catch a deer in the woods. He wanted nothing more than to hear you sing again, that you continue to bless him with that angelic melody. What worse sin would there be than to interrupt your song, more sacred than a prayer?

His stomach filled with butterflies and turned upside down like the beasts' jugglers, his breath seemed to stop in his throat, depriving him of the breath he no longer needed, as long as he could hear you sing a moment more. And her cheeks warmed, when finally she saw you among the white lilies, more beautiful than divine salvation.

I wonder that my heart, at that moment, 

Does not melt from desire.

Baldwin wondered if you sang with him in mind, if those words of love reflected your own emotional turmoil. 

Oh, if only it were so, and your singing equalled his own words inscribed in the sonnets and poems he composed in your honor, which he himself commissioned from your favorite singers to perform at banquets, only to steal an embarrassed smile and to see the blush of your cheeks, along with the glint in your eyes.

Whether it was or not, the outcome remained the same since he was at that moment in your proximity, in the same state mixed with adoration, love and wonder at the bold gesture. But if only he had confirmation from your words...

Alas! How much I thought I knew 

About love, and how little I know, 

Because I cannot keep myself from loving 

The one from whom I will gain nothing.

"My angel, your voice sounds like heaven but your words are false." Baldwin practically saw you blow up from your session, completely taken aback by his sudden appearance, unaware that your husband has been acting as a secret public all this time. Your initial surprise quickly turns into a laugh to mask your embarrassment for being caught in a moment like this, when you thought you were alone to be able to run the streets of music with your voice.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone in the gardens," your eyes met his own only for a moment, before you turned your face to try and hide the blush of your face, "it was just a silly song I heard singing to the Provençal knights. I hope I did not disrupt your walk, my love..”

He laughed softly, trying to hide his amusement from having caught you off guard. He approached you more quickly than when he did just a few moments before, but with the same phlegm that managed to inspire a feeling of safeness in you. Sitting by your side on the bare rock, he raised his bandaged hand to gently cup your face and make you turn your eyes towards him. It was only then, when you had no choice but to look at Baldwin in the face that you noticed how his eyes, the only part of his face exposed to the outside world, formed two half-moons, and you came to find that it was because of how widely he was smiling, as you lowered the veil from his face. 

He was making fun of you, you realized. With that swagger in his manner, you understood that his amusement came from your embarrassment at that silly misunderstanding. Laughing softly, he gently shook his head before bringing both hands to your face, holding it as if it were the most sacred of relics. "As much as I would love to hear you sing of your affection for me, just to hear your voice echoing in the air is the sweetest of gifts. How could you deprive me of this blessing thus far, my dear?"

You could do nothing but giggle at his sweet words, bringing your hands to his wrists to feel him closer to you. "You flatter me, my king. My voice boasts nothing more than those sweet melodies that the singers in the palace sing. Mine is only a dabble."

His gaze softened, his playful spirit addicted to your presence. He took the floor again, in a tone as soft as cotton, "At least this once, my queen, allow me to disagree with your words. My life may be short and my reality small, but never have I heard such an angelic voice, singing such sweet melodies. And God may not yet have granted me the ability to predict the future, but in my heart I know well that never will any singer be able to hold a candle to your beautiful voice, never will any song be able to express the same feeling of ecstasy.

"You, my angel, have managed to make a simple ballad an absolute work of art through your voice. I think I should take you with me into battle next time, for with your mere voice you could addict Saladin and his entire army.

"And seeing you here, angelic and perfect like the lilies that surround you, singing so softly that it would make any bird jealous, that I realize that whatever toil, whatever challenges God has stored up for me, and all those that still await me in my life, are worth it, if at the end of each of them there is you, voice of an angel, to hold a place for me in your arms of heaven." 

You were sure you were on the verge of crying a flood of tears, the result of pure emotion at his sweet words. It was not new to you that Baldwin worshipped you as much as the God to whom his kingdom was consecrated, from the first moment he got to hear your voice and admire your face, and you knew at once that he had become yours, body and soul. But it was new to you to see him like that, completely entranced by your simple being-it was something new. A wonderful newness that made you feel like the most desired of women on this earth.

Taken by a rush of boldness, you practically jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck; you ended up on top of him, with his hands around your hips. You both laughed, like two little boys frolicking in the gardens. And you left a kiss on his left cheek, then on the bridge of his nose. A kiss again on his forehead, and then down on the side of his lips. When you were about to give him another kiss, just where he most yearned for your lips, against his, you stopped a few inches away, with a wide smile, before speaking again, "If so little is enough to make your happiness, then I will sing to you every day, whenever you ask. Let me be your nightingale, your morning song and your lullaby all at once!"

"I couldn't wish for anything else, my dear. Now, however, I beg you, sing one more melody for me, before my duties drag me back to the palace, and I shall consider myself a blessed man."

"With great pleasure, my love." Your voice was now little more than a whisper. With a languid movement, Baldwin moved his body to rest his head on your lap, and you eagerly greeted him. After slightly moving the hood that veiled his head, so that you could play with his golden locks, you began to sing a new melody, one that this time spoke of reciprocated love, of the joy of being able to hold your loved one in your arms. But the words you sang barely reached Baldwin before his sky-colored eyes closed softly, his mind giving him at least a moment's despite from his perilous life. You continued to sing, caressing his face, which from day to day appeared more and more mutilated by his disease, singing the sweetest of melodies so as to prolong this idyll in which you and your husband found yourselves in. 

For with you Baldwin had a way of putting the crown aside, and being nothing more than a foolish young man in love, whose only duty was to love you, to love you with all the love that an angel like you deserved.

@sweetworkoffiction hope you like it <3

[guardian-of-time-if]

Hi Reagan!! Hope you're doing great 🙂‍↕️

If MC stops aging at around 19 what will be the ROs reaction to that ? Would they feel insecure or uncertain idk,

And , will there be a solution-ish to that like i can imagined my MC being sad about it if they see the ROs getting older while they're immortal.. (the solution being that MC stops their immortality or somehow enables their RO to have some semblance of it... Kind of like that?)

Feel free to ignore if it's spoiler territory 🥺😂

Also tysmm for the amazing writing and all the hard work u put (and still are) into it .. coz i saw the code and it was sooo tough .. 🥺.. so yeah ty 🤍

Hi Anon!

I am doing great thank you for asking!

As for how the RO's would feel about aging while MC doesn't, I wrote these snippets a while back about how they would feel at the end of their life. (You can find them here: Luk, Tzesar, Nax, Albien, and Gat.)

As for how they would feel around the time of the story or shortly after, I can't say for sure. I think all of them will realize it at different points. I'm not sure if their exact feelings will come up or not. In general though:

Tzesar is jealous and insecure

Luk and Nax are happy MC gets to continue on even when they are gone.

Albien and Gaderous just accept it as a fact of life.

Sentinel is this meme:

(Senintel actually looks about 25ish, rather than like late teen, but he still relates to MC's perdicament.)

As for your other question: There is unfortunately no way for MC to start aging again or for her to transfer some of her immortality to the RO. While the ultimate end for this story is to give MC a happily ever after (of her own choosing) she still has to deal with her existence as a dragon seeker. I currently don't have plans for 'solutions' to any of the drawbacks that come with MC's powers, she'll suffer the nightmares her entire life, and she'll be young forever (if you see that as a drawback).

Also if you read through my code you deserve a prize. I never coded anything before Guardian of Time, and I have to admit that some of my coding is inefficient at best, but as long as it works, I'm okay with it.

[sneppu]

THIS IS EXTREMELY SELF INDULGENT BUT HEAR ME OUT

I think Bellatrix x Severus has potential to be very fun, in an AU Setting, because to be honest? the reactions to it would be so fucking funny, no matter what kind of AU it is. For example, in an AU where Voldemort is just a politician and Severus + Bellatrix are both in similar years, and therefore able to be students together:

The sheer amount of gremlin energy they would bring to the table. The absolute MENACES they would be. The thing with Bellatrix and Severus is that they are BOTH capable of such extreme levels of devotion, that if that devotion were aimed at someone who not only reciprocated but MATCHED it? there is nothing they could not achieve.

BUT FURTHERMORE:

Young Severus? That's a troubled little gremlin freak right there. The thing is... lily just can't match his freak at that point. maybe she did once, when they were younger, but as time went on, its pretty clear her priorities were just different. but BELLATRIX? she ABSOLUTELY matches his freak, encourages it, makes it grow, even. I think Snape would appreciate that, having someone who was just into it all. and speaking of Lily..

secretly a gremlin lily is cool and all; I'm a fan of it myself. but its like??? ok but why be secret about it. why bother with that shit at all. simply be a gremlin and be proud of this goddamn Sneep! have a little integrity. "oh but i have to make excuses to my friends for you" bro. your friends are wack! check out this unpleasant toenail growing hex he just invented. sick as hell.

CONSIDER:

Lily? buzzkill. can't even admit how impressive as hell this hex is. Bellatrix? in the goddamn trenches alongside with you, ride or die, is actively helping u test out this sick as hell hex. and shes proud of you the entire time! "a toenail growing hex? fucking superb, let's use it on unsuspecting passerbys who happen to be called james potter. oh wow would u look at that, it worked perfectly, sick. could we modify it so that the toenails gain sentience and are able to scream though" idk like, obviously, this is all EXTREMELY AU and very OOC, i know this. but like. im JUST saying, that Bellatrix wouldnt have just sat there and chatted politely with potter as The Sneep was choking on soap. is all.

i just think Severus deserves someone who is capable of and willing to be openly and unabashedly obsessed with him in an equally morally grey way as he

also! they would be. just the WORST couple to criticize. you've heard of iconic couples and power couples now get ready for the actual domestic terror couple. imagine Lily and James thinking they're gonna be sooo iconic only to get absolutely obliterated and upstaged by these shameless fucking maniacs every single time. because they WOULD be shameless, it's basically Bellatrix's whole brand.

anyway, are they good for the wizarding world or particularly healthy? of course not, but we're here for a good time, not a long time. I want my Sneep free and enabled, i want him to live his BEST gremlin life, and I want everyone else to seethe about it.

[lilislegacy]

Okay, we know both Percy and Annabeth want to have kids and a big family, so there's a few options:

Percy and Annabeth wait till they finish college to get married and have kids

Annabeth is faced with unplanned pregnancy so they decided to get married (not because of the pregnancy of course but it kinda speeds things up)

Percy and Annabeth get married during college but they still wait to have a family later

What are your options? I think when it comes to them it's possible they will get married young and even have kids not so much later, but I also can see them waiting for it a little bit to be sure they are safe so their kids will be safe too!

thank you for sending this ask cause i love this topic

now, i have thoughts on this, but i’m open minded. so one day they might change lol

when it comes to marriage, i think they wait till they’re done with college. percy mentions sooo many times how they just want to be normal and carefree and have fun. they’re so excited for college, simply because they just want to be college kids. they were forced to grow up so fast! they’re not dying to me in a marriage yet. so as much as they love each other, i don’t think marriage is the first thing on their mind. they know for a fact it’s gonna happen one day. they’re in it for the long run. neither of them are going anywhere. as annabeth has said, they’re part each other. so the day will come, but i don’t think they’re in a rush. but i do think percy proposes within a year of them graduating, maybe even right after.

now for kids…

look. they know they want kids. but i think they’d be really, really scared. annabeth would be scared to be pregnant - she’s going to attract a lot of monsters. percy is powerful af so they know their kids are going to be more like demigods than humans. so tbh, i think they would hold off for a few years. at least until they finally realize the timing will never be perfect, and that they’ll just need to do everything they can to protect their kids.

so maybe marriage around 23ish, first kid around 26/27? i know that’s a way later timeline than most people imagine for them, but when i put myself in their shoes, that’s what i find realistic.

and while i love the accidental pregnancy trope, i think they’d be REALLY careful, because they know if percy got annabeth pregnant outside of marriage, athena would be furious. so i think they drown themselves in protection, preventing that from happening lol. but i do love me some AUs on that 😂

[itsgirlcraft]

Heyoooo back at it again with my old "dragon!Sabre saves knight!Rainbow from Princess Nightmare" au

Sooo this is from 1/31/2021, apparently. I'll put the first bit from the og fic idea down, bc the second half is just rambling about Sabre's backstory and I wanna talk abt Nightmare tbh.

@woahrarepairsagemare potential sagemare fic incoming? And also @its-indigos you n your man ((Genesis)) wanna join the fic? :)

...

The eldest princess of the Yellow Kingdom was said to live within a hidden castle in the Nightmare Mountains' forest, supposedly performing dark spells and horrifying experiments on not only herself but the people of the Kingdom of Yellow. They will fear the name Nightmare Stevens. And. They. Will. BOW.

Princess Night used to be sane. Some say she was infected with a strange ailment known simply as "The Darkness," which caused her to go mad with power. Others say she was locked away in that void-like ruin of a castle, but why? Was "The Darkness" worse than we thought? Did she get locked away for her safety? Or for ours? Did she do something so horrible I dare not utter another word, that she deserved to be locked up? Or was she never sane in the first place. Perhaps her heart was always dark.

The Kingdoms may never know why, only that Night was no longer an innocent girl who had to be protected. She was scarred. Broken. A force of nature which no man could stand up to. Something that no one will be able Magic and against unless they wished to be dead. Some thought she was a lost cause. Others wanted her dead.

"After all, we all have a dark side, I simply chose to show mine to this useless excuse of a world." The Nightmare whispered as she breathed life into her first Dark Creation. "You shall be known as Dark Steve, and together we shall rule all the Kingdoms," Nightmare cackled as her Corruption Magic gave Dark startling deep blood red eyes against glassy white, hungry. "You shall be my general, and you will command The Soldiers of Darkness as the second-in-command of the Night Terror Army!" the insanity of the isolated princess causing her yellow eyes to finally crack, the light searing her eyes, leaving the once-loved Yellow princess as a mere reflection of her former self. Twisted and broken, she kidnapped a young knight said to have been a Color Kingdoms' Creation destined to end "The Darkness's" reign of chaos with finally stopping Nightmare and her plans for complete and utter rule of the Color Kingdoms, and later the entire MC Realm.

But the Rainbow Knight was far too young to be fighting such a dangerous enemy. He lacked control and understanding of the powerful and dangerous abilities a member of the Color Kingdoms could have, and being a collective Creation between all Colors, he held far more potential than he could imagine. But with great power comes much, much, MUCH longer training sessions, and Rainbow was getting nowhere.

Meanwhile, Nightmare could already destroy chunks of land with her new Darkness fireballs the size of the average Yellow apartment, big enough to house up to 8 people. Not only had the dark princess improved her new Red Kingdom skills quickly, but she could already run from the far end of the Nightmare Mountain range to the other end where the Night Terror Castle stood within 5 minutes! Dark was greatly pleased with the progress his young creator had made on her original abilities, her Yellow-Born powers. The Rainbow Knight and the Nightmare Princess may be similar in mental age, but there was no likeness of one in the other. Neither were aware of each other's saddeningly young age, until the kidnapping came.

...

Ngl, it feels kinda cringe n edgy, but I think I like it that way. It's a good starting point for a revamp. Sooo obviously reworking Night's dialogue and the narrative around her would be good, but I think it could be REALLY good with some Sagemare.

This og version feels kinda mehhh at best in terms of how alive the characters feel, they're one-dimensional at best. I kinda wanna mess around with including Sage as the knight or dragon, but ehh it might work out easier if I just keep Sage separate from that dynamic.

So one key thing here, is that the Steve Realm is both RQ and TSS at the same time, it's very vague. And if I'm including technically SSO for Sagemare, I might as well add in the rest, yknow? I mean that I wanna add dragon!Genesis and dragon!Indigo, too. Because I've got those mcrp designs and like. Why not.

I could get a real bingo with all these series 💀 like Sabre starts off in Assassin's Creed, then we've got RQ/TSS as the MC Realm, then add in SSO and SL for flavor. AND the dimension/kingdom that Sabre comes from feels like a knockoff Cozen kingdom, so we've got AR too.

I feel like drawing some callbacks to AR would do a lot of good in fleshing out all of this, especially the og part after this lil analysis. The Guardian of the Spirit World is the one to send Sabre on his way, but it seems kinda out of place, tho if I wrote it more as a multi-chapter, the pacing would probably fix itself. Maybe mixing some AR in with that would make this 2nd part a little less awkward.

I also think the vagueness doesn't really work well here, especially with the color kingdoms. Exploring how Rainbow/Nightmare's dynamic effects the kingdoms would definitely fix some of the awkwardness as well, and including other dragons besides Sabre.

And here's the second half:

The strange dark gray/green dragon which came to save the Rainbow Knight was not the strongest or the most powerful dragon. In fact, he was not always a dragon. He is a...peculiar case, random curses and hybrid origins and assassin friends litter his past, like one insane plot twist after another. E.S. thought he was human, back in the so-called "True Reality" Realm which he called home. After he and his father were chased by men claiming to simply be guards wanting to collect tax, the young boy's parents were both killed.

Some time after being taken in by assassins, he learned that the men who killed his parents were, in fact, not guards at all. You see, E.S. lived in a world where magic and inhuman beings were real, but were all in the MC Realm or taken away/killed. "True Reality" was called such thanks to mass anti-magic propaganda that said those who were hybrids, cursed, magic etc. were simply monsters or did not exist, and that the MC Realm did not exist. The ones who killed E.S.'s parents were supporters of such, and were like magic police that tried to censor and remove anyone against them and/or were magic.

E.S.'s mother had a family curse, while his father was a hybrid trying to live a normal life. But both caught up to E.S. when his hybrid side began to show and the curse had finally appeared physically. E.S.'s curse caused his eyes to change constantly, cycling through almost human eyes, to animals like cats, snakes, etc., demonic/bloody eyes which could get particularly scary, and code-like patterns which sometimes made him "glitch" with a spike of pain throughout his body.

E.S. discovered this on his 16th birthday, to his horror. Almost a month later, E.S. found white wings growing on his back. Later the feathers continued appearing along his torso, shoulders, neck, and upper arms. That was when he realized his parents were far more interesting than they wanted him to think. They tried so hard to let him live a normal life without their own past ruining it. E.S. began wearing a reddish-brownish dark gray bandanna around his eyes, and his adoptive father made him a special little hoodie which would make an illusion that would hide E.S.'s feathers as a chicken suit.

E.S. continued to wear both as his journey as an assassin continued. That is, until he got a job to kill a particularly nasty man who was deeply obsessed with finding a way to enter the MC Realm. The man had done so many horrid things to other people and their loved ones while exploring the magic of the MC Realm. E.S. got many jobs from different people asking to kill the obsessive man. He was the first target that saw through the magic hoodie and magic bandanna, and the man seemed to recognize E.S. rather than be fearful. He violently took down E.S., plucking out a few feathers as E.S.'s scream of pain was muffled.

Ripping off his bandanna, the crazed man ignored E.S.'s struggles and collected some blood from his crying eyes, murmuring "you are the one, yes yes yes you must be the chosen, I am sorry my winged child but you must fulfill the prophecy, the boy with rainbows for eyes needs your help, you are the only one who can save us from the dark beasts now, the terror queen must die to the dragon within the child of a cursed and the winged one, you must rescue hope from the nightmare my boy."

'How can this thin old man keep me pinned to the ground?!' E.S. was sure there was no way that the man was somehow stronger than him, he is a hybrid after all. Soon something happened while the man was mixing strange things with the blood and feathers. A portal. And not just any portal. The only one to the MC Realm.

"You truly are the chosen one!" the man wheezed, as a strange concoction finished brewing. E.S. could not move, what was this man planning to do to him? Was the job really all a hoax?? How, how was the man keeping E.S. down without touching him?! Why did the portal just appear?!? E.S. barely managed to grab his bandanna before the man slouched over to him, holding the strange bottle. The liquid seemed to shine in the dim light, like a green fire against metallic scales.

"You must take this, my boy. You may be a hybrid, but. You. Will. NOT SURVIVE. Unless you take on the identity of the dragon within you," the man began pouring the liquid on E.S.'s wings as he spoke. It burned. It burned through his veins as some was forced down his throat. His vision went blurry, barely catching a glimpse of his wings. He had no feathers. There was a green shine on them now. The man wheezed in joy as he dragged the panicking young man towards the glittering glitched purple portal.

For a moment, there was kindness in his voice. "I am sorry for all I have done," the man spoke with a softness E.S. had never heard, "I have grown too old to return to the broken MC Realm, please, help them. The Color Kingdoms used to be my home, but now I cannot reunite with my family until the Darkness Age is over. You should be able to get help with returning home once you end the Darkness, mention that The Guardian brought you." And with that, he pushed an oversized iron sword into E.S.'s hands, which were growing sharp black claws. E.S. looked up at the older man, tears in his eyes. "Save them. I wish we had more time but we don't," the man whispered with a sad smile before pushing the rapidly transforming boy through the portal, still clutching the sword.

And thus, E.S. became the dragon sent to save the Colors from the Darkness. He took on the name Sabre, his middle name, as his dragon form. The oversized sword fit perfectly in his new clawed hands, now a glittering purple and blue, almost like a galaxy. The previously empty socket in the handle had what looked to be a star, having fallen long ago. E.S. went on to find the Rainbow Knight, knowing that the two of them were the only ones who could save the Kingdoms. With some help from each Color, of course. He could not do it alone, even if he were the so-called "saviour." The once-human dragon must rescue the young knight from the Nightmare princess, or else all will be lost.

[eat-your-milk]

how I would picture the light fury mind controlling Hiccup: you ever seen the animated movie Anastasia? Ok so how I picture it, the light fury puts the victim in a trance and they see a happy dream/memory so they're easier to control. Or they could see bad memories and been in pain. Meanwhile what they're actually doing could be anything that the light fury and her rider wants. Kill themselves, hurt others. Hiccup in his dreams sees his father alive and happy to see him. I have these ideas of Hiccup walking towards a cliff, about to kill himself. While in his dream world he's about to hug his dad. Toothless follows him and saves him at the last minute. At first everyone thinks it trauma and sleep walking. And painful dreams/memories could be Hiccup seeing Toothless kill his dad over and over again, or Toothless being controlled to kill him. Over all there's tons of things you could do with this. Especially with the other Dragon riders and Valka.

Okie, Im just gonna answer all of these together, since they correlate with eachother :P (tumblr butchering the quality, per the ush. Sorry!)

In reference to this post about mind control and this post about a HTTYD3 AU :D

Break bc I yap a lot here lol.

For the mind control thing, that would be super interesting! That sounds almost like possession but with emotions and memories instead of an actual physical presence! Oh, that would be so hard for everyone to combat too, especially since Hiccup would be lost in his own head.

The coolest thing is that Vikings had a concept of what delirium is and what it could indicate, so they would probably think Hiccup had some sort of severe illness, which would be pretty fascinating. Would they think Hiccup was dying, or would they try to seek another source? I imagine the riders would be determined to find some sort of cure, and Toothless would just be trying desperately to tell them that the Light Fury is the cause.

I imagine a bit of an adventure breaking out here, searching for a cure that maybe the Light Fury acts like she knows about? There is a lot of ways that could go!

And I love that idea toooooo- Like one of my favorite things ever is Venomcup partially because of the fact that it would be from a different perspective, and Toothless trying to save Hiccup would be so interesting to see! Hiccup is always a character that is in charge, leading the plot. But when he is no longer a reliable leader, I feel like the rest of the team would panic a bit.

I feel like people kinda take Hiccup for granted, and they would realize that when he is gone. Watching the rest of the cast try to handle the loss of his leadership and save him from himself at the same time would be so crazy interesting too! I feel like in this scenario of your AU, this would be a perfect time to forshadow Astrids prowess as a chieftess too!

So for the last one, I'm assuming you mean not in leu of Grimmel but working with him? That would be interesting, especially if it was done right. I am NOT a fan of Grimmel, but thinking of him as an exact parallel to Hiccup, where he chose to kill the Night Fury and bring it's heart to his Village was brilliant, but sooo poorly executed.

Seeing another villain take his place, or work in tandem with him would be interesting! I imagine this character might be a handler for the Light Fury, running from one abusive place to another in the search for power. Maybe she stays with Grimmel to usurp him at some point. I do love villains with tragic backstories :P. Maybe the Light Fury likes her but she is using the Light Fury for her powers to stay young forever?

These are all fantastic ideas! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! :D

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Not going to lie guys I was so excited about this project but when I sat down to actually write it I struggled sooo much. So here it is Part 1, it’s short, it’s setting the scene, it is what it is

Pairings: Jake Kiszka X Danny Wagner *slash for the baes

Warnings and tags: 18+ ONLY!! sorry minors disperse! Adult themes including: insecurity, mention of body dismorphia (very breif), mentions of death of a loved one, mentions of depression, Dad Jake AU, uncle Danny AU (I am not using Danny’s irl sister as inspiration for this, the character referred to here is completely made up), flirting, slow burn

Word count: 3.7k

Jake never imagined his life would end up the definition of suburbia. The days came and went one after the other in a blur of cut-and-dry: school, work, practice, dinner, bed, and repeat. He loved his life, he loved his home, he loved his daughter, but he never really knew what he was missing until life brought him the unexpected.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Another morning went by after Jake packed a lunch for his daughter and got her ready for school.

“Daddy?” Her little voice called out from the backseat as they waited in line at the drop off. The school was only a couple of blocks away but Jake preferred to drive her himself rather than let her take the bus at such a young age- he could be a little overprotective sometimes.

“Yes darling?” He replied, looking through the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse at her as she spoke.

“Are you coming to my graduation?” She asked, carefully anouncuating ‘graduation’ after they had spent some time practicing on it together.

“Of course I am. You only graduate kindergarten once”.

“Did you graduate kindergarten?”

“I did, a long time ago” Jake chuckled. She was at the stage where everything was a question that led to another question, but rather than being annoyed by it he liked to indulge her a little sometimes.

“Did Mommy graduate kindergarten?”

“She did, when she was just a little girl like you” he answered her again, only this time he quietly hoped this was the end of her string of questioning for now.

When she was younger she never seemed to be bothered about being raised by Jake alone. Having been too little to really remember much about her mother or her passing. It wasn’t until she’d started school last year that she heard other children talking about their daddies and mommies that she started to realize their home life wasn’t exactly the norm.

It was a tough conversation for him to have with her, still believing she was too innocent to have to grasp the concept of death. But when she’d randomly asked one day after school why she didn’t have a mommy, he knew he had to tell her that she did and she was loved so incredibly much, but her mommy just wasn’t here with them anymore.

To make up for that Jake tried to give his daughter as much love and attention as possible. Although even if he’d never admit it, he was exhausted, wearing himself thin with both solo-parenting and working on running the foundation his wife had left him in charge of.

After another successful drop off at the elementary school, Jake finished getting himself ready for the day. Work was just busy enough to keep himself sufficiently occupied, powering through lunch so he could leave early.

Today was the first day of practice with the pee-wee soccer team Jake had volunteered to coach. Sure that was just another responsibility to juggle on his plate, but Jake was actually excited to get onto the field again- even if it was just teaching a bunch of 5-7 year old girls how to kick a ball.

“Did you see that!” Luna gleefully exclaimed as she turned to make sure Jake had seen her kick the ball into her first goal.

“I did! Good job” he smiled back at her, but his grin slowly faded when out in the distance behind her he saw a figure sitting on one of the bleachers. He narrowed his eyes, calling a few of the girls back over and making sure all the little ones were accounted for before he approached.

“Excuse me, you can’t smoke on the field”.

“Oh shit, my bad” the unknown man pressed the cherry of his cigarette into the metal of the bleacher next to him.

Jake crossed his arms across his chest, looking him up and down with an unamused glare. He was wearing a pair of worn in black jeans with a cut up black t-shirt that looked like it barely fit him. “Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“I’m watching my niece practice” he replied with a casual sideways smile, returning the same up and down look to Jake in his athletic shirt and sweatpants combo he’d just been awarded.

Jake was about to open his mouth again to question him further but one of the kids excitedly yelled from behind him “Uncle Danny!”

Danny hopped off the steps he’d been leaning on and bent at the knees, squatting with his arms held open for a hug. “Hi little miss soccer pro!” He praised her as he picked her up and spun her around, “did you miss me?”

“I missed you!” She squealed as he kissed at her rosy cheeks and gently let her down. “Coach Jake, this is my uncle Danny. I haven’t seen him since Christmas!”

“Is that so?” Jake replied, still deciding if he should give her parents a call and make sure this was okay.

Danny could sense Jake’s reservations and offered with the same smile he’d had since Jake approached, his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you coach”.

Jake took his hand, expecting the simple embrace to be stiff, but Danny didn’t put any strength in his grasp as their hands closed together. “I’m going to be walking Emma home after practices if that’s okay with you”.

Even without having the responsibility of being in charge of all the girls on his soccer team, Jake’s over protective tendencies extended past just his own daughter Luna to Emma specifically. She lived only a block over in their small tight knit suburb and he’d met her parents at a PTA meeting at the start of the school year.

Realizing how close they lived, they started scheduling play dates at the park next to the field between Luna and Emma who easily became best friends. As quickly as Jake announced at a later meeting that he’d be volunteering to coach soccer to the kids, Emma was signed up. Jake had picked them both up from school and got them situated with some snacks before heading out to the field. He’d expected one of her parents would pick her up from his place afterwards, having never heard of an uncle being in the picture.

“Alright, well practice is over in about ten minutes” Jake decided to allow it for now since Emma had been so excited to see him, and guided the girls back over to the others who were still enthusiasticly kicking balls around.

Soon after the other parents started showing up to collect their kids one by one until the only two left were his and Emma. “Luna, do you want to walk Emma home today?” Jake asked, getting no complaint from the girls as they gathered up their things.

“Can I carry something for you?” Danny offered once he’d realized Jake was dead set on following them back to Emma’s parents house, just to be safe. He didn’t mind, in fact he found it quite charming that Jake was so diligent in monitoring the safety of his little team.

Jake was carrying his backpack on one shoulder, full of supplies like a first aid kit, some extra bottles of water in case any of the parents forgot to send their kid with some, and a list of emergency contacts for all the kids in the event something were to happen- otherwise he’d come prepared. Additionally, he had a net full of soccer balls slung over the other shoulder. Neither bag was very heavy, but his hands were full and he’d already made the trip with all of it once when they were heading out to the field earlier.

Before Jake could even get out an ‘I’m fine, thanks’ Danny was already tugging on the drawstring of the bag holding the balls, taking it from Jake’s hand and tossing it over his shoulder instead.

“She’s yours?” Danny questioned next, him and Jake both attentively watching the two girls holding hands on the sidewalk in front of them. Jake nod his head, still reserved towards conversing too much with this random guy who’d interrupted his first practice.

Despite Jake’s initial observation of Danny, leaning on the bleachers in his dark clothes with a cigarette perched uncaringly between his middle and pointer finger- the picture of nothing but a delinquent punk, he actually seemed pretty harmless.

“She’s cute, must get that from her mom”.

Jake shot him a glaring look not sure which rattled him more, the mention of Luna's mom by some stranger, or the fact that Danny had just offhandedly insulted him.

Danny chuckled again, never once feeling intimidated by Jake or his judgmental first impressions. “I mean, she couldn’t have gotten it from you, because you’re way too charming to be considered just cute”.

Taking into account how he was still dressed- not to impress that was, and that his windblown hair surely had strands sticking up every which way out of the loose knot at the base of his neck, Jake wasn’t sure how to respond. Perhaps even his second impression was wrong, maybe Danny was going to be a problem.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward” the lighthearted tone left Danny’s voice, afraid he might have come on a little strong. “My sister told me about the hot single dad teaching Emma soccer today. I had to come out to see it for myself”.

Instead of lingering on the offense turned compliment Jake focused on the reveal that he was Emma’s mom’s brother. With a closer look it made sense. They both had similar facial features, Danny’s were just more chiseled and defined. He was a handsome guy Jake had to admit, but he didn’t let that distract him from the fact that Danny seemed to have this aura of youthful irresponsibility.

Sure Danny might be a good uncle, Emma certainly was enthused to see him, but coming from someone who tended to take things into his own hands Jake almost always doubted the competence of others until proven otherwise.

Saving him from having to come up with a response to that statement, they reached Emma’s house just as the sun was starting to set behind the trees in the distance. He and Luna would have to hurry so they could make it home before night cast its cloak of darkness over the suburb’s quiet late evening streets.

Jake waited until Emma’s parents met them at the door, waving over at them with smiles on their faces as their little one started spilling about her day, how fun practice was, and of course the surprise visit from Uncle Danny. Her dad ushered her along to the kitchen where dinner waited, leaving the rest of them on the porch to talk.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you who was picking her up, I didn’t know he was going to be staying with us until just this afternoon” Emma’s mom apologized, turning to her brother with a cocked eyebrow and her hands on her hips. Obviously she was a little irritated at the situation, but something about her tone gave Jake the impression this was not a one time happening.

“It’s alright, I just wanted to make sure she got home safe” Jake responded, catching a small scoff from Danny who stood by himself against a banister. “Next practice is Saturday afternoon, parents are free to join”.

“Absolutely we will be there! Thanks for all the help by the way, it’s been a madhouse at the firm these past few weeks feels like we’re getting cases by the truckload”.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help, and Luna is always thrilled to play with Emma after school”.

“Yeah, Emma is my best friend!” Luna chimed in, making the two parents chuckle.

“Well, I better be getting her home, we still need to eat dinner ourselves and wash up”. Jake excused himself, looking over his shoulder once as he reclaimed his bag of soccer balls at the edge of the yard to see Danny and his sister deep in conversation together on the porch. Danny had his arms crossed over his chest while she shook her head and closed the front door behind her, then Danny pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and disappeared into the open garage.

After getting Luna settled in bed Jake wind down for the night with his own hot shower. He stood in front of the foggy bathroom mirror in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, the details of his figure coming more and more into focus as the stream from the shower started to clear.

Staring at his reflection wasn’t something he’d normally do, but he couldn’t get the comment Danny had made on their walk out of his head. He studied the face that stared back at him, feeling a little dysmorphic about all the changes he saw in himself.

Confidence was always a difficult concept for him to grasp. On one hand he knew he was relatively attractive so that he wasn’t bothered by. On the other hand however, he realized how the more he dedicated himself to parenting and work the less time he spent on maintaining himself.

He remembered watching hours of YouTube videos about how to do his daughter's hair once she started school, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a haircut. Eating well balanced meals was important for him when he had Luna at home for dinner, but when it came to his own lunchtime he opted more for ease, or sometimes even skipped it all together if he was too busy. When he was a teenager it worked, but now that he was an adult he could tell he was filling out a little and it was becoming more of a chore to stay healthy.

Across his chest, on full display in his nakedness, Jake’s eyes caught his wedding band. White gold secured around his neck with a simple silver chain. He’d taken it from his finger over a year ago but couldn’t bring himself to leave it sitting in a drawer somewhere. So instead he slid the ring onto the necklace and it had been there ever since. Its weight against his heart was a comfort in the times when he felt the most alone.

His late wife’s passing was something he had time to prepare himself for. She knew she was sick before her symptoms even started. The genetic mutation apparent in her blood from the first test she was brave enough to take. That didn’t make losing her any easier though. Depression didn’t even seem to cover the raging storm of emotions he felt when she was gone, but he couldn’t even let himself get lost for too long because now he was all little Luna had.

As time went on things got better. Jake still had that sting from the hole left in his heart, but now it was more of a dull burn than a constant pull. Even three years later, he felt like he was living with her ghost. He saw her everywhere, from the photos he still had placed around the house, to her large glossy white piano sitting hauntingly in the bay window, most of all to the image of her in their daughter.

The ringing of his cell phone from where he’d tossed it onto his bed earlier pulled Jake out of his reflective moment, and he flicked the lights to the bathroom off on his way out.

“How’d practice go?” Josh asked the moment Jake slid the button over to answer.

Jake hit the speaker button next and put the phone back down, speaking up as he turned to gather something to sleep in out of his dresser. “It went well”.

“Did my little LuLu score any goals?”

“I mean she kicked a ball into the net, but they’re not exactly playing soccer yet” Jake snarkily replied before shoving his head through a shirt, trapping his still dripping hair against his back before pulling it out and running the towel through once more.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to coach, what are you going to do if she gets hurt?”

“Soccer is a low contact sport. Just because you got banned from the league for kicking other kids does not mean I’m letting the kids on my team run wild”.

Josh was laughing on the other end of the phone, remembering when they were kids themselves how badly Jake wanted to go to soccer tryouts. Their parents had made them both go even though he really didn’t want to. “Mom let me join theater after that so it was a win for me”.

“Hey, can I tell you something and you not blow it out of proportion?” Jake asked once the laughter died down.

“I’ll try my best, no promises”.

Jake switched off all his bedroom lights next, and picked up the phone before crawling into bed. He hoped talking to his twin about the strange encounter would help him go to sleep and not lay awake over analyzing it. “I think I might’ve gotten hit on today”.

“I told you she was into you!” Josh immediately started going off about one of the girls that worked at Jake’s office. A girl he’d only met once and ever since had hounded Jake about asking her out. She was a sweet girl, but he was technically her boss so he just couldn’t see himself crossing any professional boundaries he’d set to date her.

“No not at work” Jake corrected, though he didn’t offer much more information either.

“On the field?” The animation in Josh’s voice only grew as he tried to piece together what Jake was saying. “You got hit on while coaching soccer? Wow, if I’d known there was more game out there than just scoring goals then I would’ve been onboard with this a lot sooner”.

“Shut up, I hate that you’re always trying to pimp me out. I have enough going on right now to throw dating into the mix”. That was always his excuse when Josh would trick him into double dates or try to give him some random person's number. It was true, Jake didn’t have the time to meet people which is probably why he hadn’t. Underneath that though, Jake worried if he was even ready to be with anyone else yet.

“I just want you to be happy brother” Josh sighed, the tone of the late night phone call turning more serious than he’d originally intended. “You can make time for your own happiness, that isn’t selfish you know”.

“I am happy” Jake tried to argue even though there was a little part of him that knew Josh was right. “Luna makes me happier than anything on this Earth”.

“And that’s beautiful. That child has more love coming at her everyday, but I’m talking about a different kind of love” Josh, ever the wise and thoughtful one, countered.

“I think before we start talking about being in love again I need to meet someone I’m actually interested in first”.

Jake had tried before to get himself back out there. Josh of course was always thrilled to babysit his favorite niece so that his brother could attempt a couple of dates- most of which he had selected for him. They were nice, Josh had good taste in just about everything even including when he played matchmaking, but sadly each date Jake left feeling more hollow and alone than he did going in.

He was missing that spark he felt before. The intensity that started as attraction and built deep within himself to pure adoration for his partner. No one had ever come close to comparing.

“Okay, and what about today stuck out to you?” Josh pushed him, knowing that Jake didn’t bring it up for no reason. He wanted his input. “Are you interested in the person who hit on you today?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know how I felt about it”. Jake groaned, running his hand across his face as he stared up at his bedroom ceiling contemplating why he was getting so frustrated.

“Sounds to me like you know, you just don’t want to admit it”.

Again, Josh was probably right. Jake wasn’t exactly vexed about Danny’s backward as it was compliment. If he had been then he could easily brush it off and forget about it. What he wasn’t admitting to himself was that for once someone had caught him off guard, and he’d kind of liked the shock it had given him.

The reason he wasn’t allowing himself to enjoy it though was because he had no idea who Danny was. For all he knew Danny could’ve just been fucking with him. In Jake’s mind it made more sense that Danny would think it was funny to flirt with the ‘hot single dad’ rather than be actually interested in him.

“I don’t know Josh. I kind of just want to forget about it and go to bed”. He’d had no luck in talking through this. In fact he was even more worked up now than he’d been earlier, playing out the whole scenario in his head in ways that only led to him looking like an idiot. He couldn’t risk it.

“Alright. Just try not to close yourself off, you never know who life is going to bring you when you’re least expecting it”. Josh sounded like he wanted to say more, he could probably chat Jake’s ear off for at least another good hour, but he knew it was getting late and his brother was on a tight schedule with it being a school night.

The two said their good nights and Jake rolled over, tucking his hand underneath his pillow and closed his eyes. Though he’d had a good time with the kids, he was glad today was finally over with. Both his mind and body were tired enough to pass out within minutes.

He was sure by tomorrow he’d be feeling normal again. Just another day cut-and-dry.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Special thanks to @kultavalo for listening to me complain about writing this

Tags: @lyndz2names @gracev0609 @lipstickitty @sanguinebats

[lauranceofmeteli]

26 for ask game?

26. you're tasked with writing an official side story/spin-off roleplay (void paradox, mermaid tale, upside-down story), what would that look like?

a while ago i had a phase where i spent a lot of time thinking about what the character changes in upside down stories would look like if it was reverse spin-offed back into mcd but alas i wrote none of it down and barely remember anything i came up with </3

gist of it was aph as the result of a botched attempt at reviving the shadow lord (who is irene. if you care.) leaving her without memories and limited access to her previous power. she latches hard onto the two shadow knights who attempted the resurrection which works for them bc its either the shadow lord favors them or theyre getting the torture labyrinth for all eternity tomorrow. those shadow knights being:

garroth, who was set to inherit the lord title in o'khasis before an assassination he believes was a coordinated coup from his brothers (was it???? we may never know but he certainly believes it). this happening when he was young, leaving him unable to even grow enough to plan to join the guard academy leaving him no outlet to begin to unlearn everything he'd internalized as the closest thing ru'an has to a crown prince. leaving him a bit of an asshole. and well all that time in the nether afterwards certainly doesn't help him become a well adjusted adult. he still has this core belief that he Deserves some sort of power in some society, and if he needs to turn to more drastic measures than waiting for his dad to die then so be it.

and laurance who also became a shadow knight a lot earlier than canon and has been largely disillusioned with how things are run both in the nether and in society at large for a long time. thinks the best thing to do would be to let everything burn. where garroth still holds a lot of determination for clawing his way back up to the top, laurance is largely apathetic and has long let the morals he held in his human life and early shadow knight years slip. when he realizes aphmau is like a Person rather than just an empty vessel and proof of his fuck up, she's one of the first things he cares about in a long time.

laurance and garroth were not friends prior to this and just had similarly aligning goals at that moment and now are either stuck with each other or the torture labyrinth mentioned above.

idk much abt what the other characters are up to. but i can imagine zane being a really benevolent and beloved figure in o'khasis which pisses garroth off sooo bad when he finds out

going off of pdh upside down stories, i imagine the plot follows aphmau some time after whatever is going on above meeting whoever gene is in this world and being like hm. maybe i dont want to run a necromancy army forever. i'd need to go back and rewatch pdh upside down stories if i wanted to take this au anywhere again....

[hazbin-proship-central]

After the ordeal Niffty goes through being kidnapped by Vox I imagine she wouldn't crumble quietly after she's broken and subsequently rescued. If anything I feel like she'd constantly dash away from the others and hide, growing more hyperfixated on killing the bugs of the hotel to get her mind off of the trauma and reclaim some control over her life by lashing out at something weaker than her. If anyone goes near her, especially Alastor or Angel Dust, I imagine she'd try to scurry away or straight up attack them for invading her space. She doesn't feel safe at the hotel because no one protected her. If anything she might end up feeling safest with Vox because I imagine he used Valentino as a method of punishment against Niffty, knowing the lengths he goes to torment Angel already, and swooped in to save her like a knight in shining armor. Hell, he might've even used his hypnotism powers to warp Niffty's perception of him, convincing her she felt safer with him, and she just complied because it was better to have a figurative knight in armor than to accept that no one would keep her safe now. So now the Hazbin Crew has a feral, stockholm syndrome riddled maid who's only been confined to the hotel thanks to Alastor's influence and none of them have felt worse.

(I would've included Velvette in the torment more but I think the novelty of possessing the demon who killed Adam would wear off quickly once she saw more of Niffty's eccentricities. Plus I imagine Velvette was smart enough to see the writing on the wall and avoided taking part in Niffty's torment so she wouldn't be culpable once the literal king of hell, the literal princess of hell and the radio demon came to seek justice.)

Oh, this is beautiful. I love you, whoever you are.

That sounds EXACTLY how Niffty would cope with things, since she doesn't really seem like someone who would know how to deal with deep feelings like that. Plus, shes young, arrived in hell young, and acts as if shes in a sort of regressed state, if that makes sense? Yeah. Perfect. Mwah.

Staying away from Alastor, even though she was so so close to him beforehand 🥹 poor girl! I wonder how Alastor would react, noticing the change in her behavior. Matter of fact, seeing how the whole hotel would react would be sooo interesting.

Ugh, if only i could find a fanfic with this concept.

[bunkernine]

PLEASE speak abt the parents Beryl Tristan and Esperanza 🙏 🙏 🙏

Ok outside of firmly believing that those parents HAVE to be legacies (esperanza ESPECIALLY or at least she saw thru the mist) I'm just gonna blab about an AU that makes me laugh. The way I spent 30 mins writing this instead of my finals...

Quick run down: the three of them were friends, tristan and beryl as childhood friends actually, and then they accidentally kill a man (monster)

Beryl:

Grew up poor in a small town, "trailer trash", extremely critical alcoholic mother. Dad left when she was a kid. Had an older brother who left as soon as he could and never calls

Enjoyed watching movies and tv to imagine a better life she can live in

Nerdy as hell in school, wore the biggest glasses in the world. Had a huge crush on tristan for YEARS, especially when he got hot in high school, but liked him before too

Esperanza

Has the sight, can see thru the mist and it scares the shit out of her. Part of why Rosa thinks Leo is fucking devilspawn cuz Esperanza thought she was seeing demons. She moved around a lot growing up because of that fear, but also Hazel's curse

Kinda a rebellious punk, wildchild younger sibling. Her and Rosa are CONSTANTLY fighting

She moves into Tristan and Beryl's town in high school, after her mom died.

There's a satyr and demigod in her class. She doesnt think too much of it. Her teacher is weird....

Tristan

Kinda geeky, has 5 siblings but never talks about them too much. Was always a very sweet and quiet kid. Childhood friends with beryl, also poor too

Super into Ezperanza because she's different. Even when she's weird and mumbling about being chased she's still sooo cool compared to the town they're in.

Okay so now that they're in high school... I think this would be the early 80s 🙂 they essentially are together in a rag tag group, lost trio style, until they see a demigod getting attacked. Tristan hits the monster with his car. The 3 of them are HORRIFIED because they killed a man, but Esperanza keeps talking about monsters and explains it. The demigod's satyr is fucking young Hedge 💀 he's shit at his job so he just tells them about demigods and stuff.

Beryl is slowly ENAMORED by this. Starts drinking from this event but she is DELIGHTED by the idea of a new better world out there. Ezperanza feels like SHIT! She thinks this is all her fault and she's cursed. Tristan is going CRAZY, racked with grief. He is not doing well at ALL!!!!

Anyway they go to college with this in California together, mostly out of being closer but also fear of this secret (dead body) weighing on them. A few more monster and minor god encounters. Eventually, Hedge has to mist-wipe Tristan's memories because hes going crazy, which causes Hedge's issue with the Council of satyr elders or whatever. Idk its in the books lol. But this causes them all to separate and go their separate ways when Tristan can't remember the other two.

Beryl drops out of college, and gets scouted as she is waitressing. Has her big break, goes onto TV and gets famous. She begins to forget some of the little things about how much the demigod world is HORRIBLE. Once, she meets up with Esperanza and they stumble into a minor god, which makes her remember how much she wants to be in that world. She meets Zeus at a party :) and thinks he's charming and powerful, just different. It reminds her of the monster experience. She fucks that man obviously. Desire for something different to her shit life. She is CRAZY!!! 🩷

Esperanza goes to New Rome Uni because i luv that place idk if they allow mortals but she will!!!!! Because she goes to that fake school, no mortals really take her degree seriously which is why it was harder for her to get a job. Never taken seriously. She heads back to Texas eventually. She know he's Hepaestus when he approaches her at a library, doesn't like the idea of getting involved with that god stuff. Still falls in love. When her great grandfather falls ill (Sammy) she demands hepaestus to stay with her. He doesn't obviously, but he promises to come back, if not for her than for Leo. He has to. He doesn't.

Tristan doesn't go to college, he just works at like, fucking Hollister or Abercrombie because he's hot now. He meets Aphrodite a few times but she's busy and he doesnt give in. Eventually they meet at the beach surfing and she's like "I've been trying to get your attention for a while now"... She doesn't tell him she's a goddess but Tristan kinda has a familiar feeling. He's forgotten what it was but she just feels different. When piper grows up, aphrodite sends little gifts to "her favorite heartthrob" and he just gives it to Piper.

......

Anyway it was just putting little seeds together + being crazy. Beryl and Esperanza sometimes still talked. They met once when they were pregnant and talked about their kids playing together. Esperanza, seeing theu the mist, had an idea that Beryl was fucking a god, but its not like she has high standing either. Beryl and Tristan bumped into each other with their acting careers, but Tristan doesnt really remember Beryl the way he should. Esperanza and Tristan have some kind of twisted relationship I fear of will they, wont they with Beryls jealousy 🙄 such it is. Naturally the same with Beryl and Esperanza 🙏

[headythecarry]

Headcanons and ideas for a ATLA X OP crossover aka bending pirates.

Ok first Luffy won being the avatar by the only virtue of being the protagonist, and the fact I was between two elements and could not decide which idea I liked more.

Others characters I thought for the role even if momentarily were: Ussop, Ace, Law, Shirahoshi, Nami, and Yamato. The explanation varies a lot between “the potential for either surprise and realized potential” to “idgaf these seem cool” Ussop is both.

Like I wanted to say that Ussop would be a great avatar but alas not in this version. But if someone want to brainstorm avatar Ussop please do.

Ok, so everyone assumed Luffy is an earth bender, he grew up in a predominantly earth bender place and Dragon is one (I have not decided if Garp is one or if he is a non-bender)

Luffy sucks at earth bending tho, mostly he just used for fidgeting, levitating a few peddles. does not rely in it for fighting, as always, his fits are all he needs.

Little does everyone know, let alone Luffy, that the first element he mastered was air. He is SOOO good at air bending that he has 0 idea he is using it. Like sure, his falls always got a little slower down and Nami could swear that when he got exited the ship seemed to go a little bit faster.

Like you know that nice sleepy breeze on the afternoon? Yeah Luffy invoke it every time without noticing.

I especially head canon this cause Luffy remind me of both tarot cards of “the fool” and “the word” and his carefree but somehow connected attitude is a cool dialogue with the earthy and spiritual connections and freedom to attachment the air nomads remind me of.

But you know…cause of freedom.

Ok so Zoro is either a non-bender or  an earth ender.

Nami is a water bending but did not know until already being established in the crew.

Ussop was a difficult one to pinpoint, but I decided earth and can metal bend.

Sanji either fire or non-bender, maybe his family can all fire bend except him or all his brothers can each control an element. I can imagine Judge trying to create an artificial avatar and ending with quadruplets.

Maybe an spirit(?) a very very young one. If he had the capacity to bend he would be a water bender but come on.

Robin is a non bender. Guys she would be to powerful. ( or we could think how the government villainize her for being a fire bender that would be cool too)

Franky and brook non benders

Oh, I wonder what Jinbei might be. Yeah, the guy who canonicly controls water by using martial arts? Geez I wonder what parallel between the avatar power system we could use to pin him down?

The point is Everyone was surprise when Luffy used fire bending for the first time. Like the implications when off the charts!

You mean that Luffy has controlled a second element? But that would mean he is the avatar? And sure he is a miracle worker but this? Surely someone would have to notice that was something he could do?

Not even his brothers? Both of them being able to fire bend? Surely Luffy would have pick up something of that up? Well no

Luffy being the avatar is his Gear five revelation btw

I could go to a rant about how water is the element of healing and change, how this change is the result of lost, how community is important in the water tribes. And how is the element that In Atla we seem to have the greatest possibilities. Also ice /cold coded but but but… come on! the dude is named water of course Law is a water bender I would not even bother.

Doffy taught him how to blood bend :) Is Doffy even a water bender?

Returning to Luffy his fire burn to bright that it is white. Also, the little shit. DO.NOT.BURN. no body knows how he does that, but new fireproof avatar technique unlocked.

Robin theory is Luffy is so good at air bending that he even if not concius about it, he controls the manner of how the fire is being feed by the air around it and that also why it seems to burn so bright.

She has not said it out loud, nobody has asked.

If someone asked it would probably be Ussop and she would say something along the lines of their captains always being a cough aways of burning alive.

Ok but imaging Zoro actually noticing Luffy is the Avatar since East blue and not saying anything because it did not seemed relevant.

Luffy is Luffy that is all to said in the matter.

Of course, he knew, Luffy provided a great afternoon breeze for naps.

Anyway he learned water bending from Nami and Jimbei and his only problem was actually sitting down enough to listen to the lesson

You guys have no idea how much luffy is proposing actually learning to earth bend for real.

Instructions unclear he turned a rock into a non-Newtonian fluid.

Closer to inventing alchemy that actually learn Earth bending.

[heckyeahponyscans]

G5 Make Your Mark, Chapter 4 Ep 4: Sunny Side Up

So I've been watching one episode a week (I highly recommend this, so much more satisfying than binging) and man, this episode gave me sooo much of what I crave!

In this episode Opaline goes out on her own to seek an immensely powerful crystal (the Dragonstone) while leaving Misty "grounded" for failing to capture Sparky. Meanwhile the pressure is on for Sunny and Hitch to produce a captivating cooking show despite the lack of communication between the hosts and interference from Pipp. This episode was well-balanced, aside from the cooking segments dragging a little at the end. But in general it had good momentum,. (Also the cooking show was HELLA long, but if it's meant to mimic a Twitch stream then it's not totally implausible.)

There's so much in this episode, and I guess I'll start chronologically. At the start of the episode Opaline is hamming it up (and "wasting the last of [her] magic showing off her cool plan") with Misty. Opaline has been rifling through Misty's personal belongings, like the toxic parent-figure that she is, and found the photo of Misty and the Mane 5, which Sparky gave to Misty in the previous episode.

(Incidentally in the last episode the photo didn't have the sparkle effect, but I get why . . . they wanted the audience to immediately understand that Misty was affected by seeing herself happy and surrounded with friends. With the sparkles, it might seem like she was feeling wowed or jealous of other ponies' cutie marks.)

From the photo, Opaline has deduced that the ponies' cutie marks are the source of "evolved magic" powering the Prisbeam. The cutie mark magic is actually something Misty noticed as far back as "Izzy Does It" (Ch. 2, Ep.1), but when she tried to tell Opaline about it she was shot down.

Anyway, now that it's "her own" idea, Opaline is on board. She states her plan to steal the ponies' cutie marks, and laughs maniacally. But instead of joining in Misty timidly suggests they not do that.

Opaline is annoyed, then angry when Misty confesses that she failed to capture Sparky. To motivate Misty, she reveals some of her backstory . . .

Which is that she GREW UP with Celestia and Luna in Skyros.

Celestia, Luna, and widdle baby Opaline are all shown to be alicorns at this young age. So they were probably naturally born like that, like Flurry Heart. Maybe Skyros was all alicorns?

Speaking of widdle baby Opaline, she tried to make friends with Celestia and Luna and was snubbed. "They thought they were so great 'cause they had the whole 'sun and moon' thing."

I'm curious if this was a misunderstanding or if Celestia and Luna actually were stuck up little kids . . . Regardless, from Opaline's perspective this is the truth and she's still bitter about it. It's literally her villain origin story.

As for widdle baby Opaline's abilities, she was "an alicorn of fire. Of power! Of strength! And because of that, I had to prove I was not to be underestimated."

I postulated that Skyros was an all-alicorn country, but what if it wasn't? What if it was just freak chance that three alicorns were born there? That would definitely explain why Opaline felt overshadowed. Like imagine Opaline lighting a campfire in a bid to impress other ponies while Luna casually tosses the moon around in the background.

(How vindicated do you think Opaline felt when Luna turned into Nightmare Moon? Do you think she sent Celestia a gloating sympathy card?)

Opaline also says she will "live up to her elemental duty", which is a very interesting way for the villain to view her powers. And again . . . this leaves me wondering if there were many fire alicorns or if she was the only one. And does that also imply the existence of earth, wind, and water alicorns? (Gimme gimme!)

Anyway, Opaline finishes up this story by reminding us that she's the villain; she uses magic to drag Misty (who's screaming in terror) back to her room and magically fasten her hooves to the floor.

So from here let's look at the plotlines one by one, starting with Opaline. Opaline heads out to parts unknown, disproving my previous theory that she can't physically leave her castle. However, she is very worn down and she doesn't even have the energy to fly. She also coughs a LOT in this episode . . . six separate times. Maybe she's getting sick?

Anyway, even on her own she has zinger after zinger.

"Why does every magical item have to be precariously perched on a hill with stuff in the way? Here's an idea: bury your magic things within hooves' reach!"

The magic item in question is the Dragonstone, "the most powerful crystal in all of Equestria." Previously inert, it has been reactivated by the return of magic. However, messing with it "has a high chance of wiping out all of the pony magic in Equestria forever."

Opaline is not worried by this outcome, presumably because she doesn't really consider herself to be a pony . . . more like a pony-shaped goddess. (In the "Unicorn Sleepover" episode Misty describes Opaline as "not a pony at all, but an alicorn queen.")

Rather than acquiring the Dragonstone, however, she accidentally knocks it into a crevice. She returns to the castle.

Subplot #2: The Cooking Show. Sunny and Hitch agree to do a cooking show, despite Hitch's stage fright, but Hitch's by-the-book attitude doesn't mesh well with Sunny's easy-breezy style. They lighten the mood with a food fight, and when Pipp sees the viewer engagement skyrocket, she interferes and tries to encourage more wacky shenanigans.

This doesn't fit Sunny's vision for the show and she speaks passionately about why she loves cooking, how it can be a way to exert control when you feel powerless, and about the importance of staying true to yourself instead of pleasing everyone else. She and Hitch finish their show, losing viewers but producing the show they want.

The final plot thread is Misty having a crisis of conscience.

She (unknowingly) uses unicorn magic to free herself from the floor and decides to go steal Sparky, thus proving her loyalty to Opaline. She draws her fake cutie mark on her flank and tries to head out. But alas, Opaline has magically sealed the door shut too.

So instead Misty watches Sunny's cooking show and is blown away by her speech. She realizes that she's been failing to steal Sparky because deep down she doesn't want to; she realizes the other ponies have been nothing but kind to her, while Opaline has been nothing but cruel. And she decides to leave. But before she can figure out how, Opaline returns.

Opaline hits Misty with the ol' "I'm only so hard on you because I care about you" line, and I can't tell if Misty falls for it or not. She tells Misty that tomorrow they will retrieve the Dragonstone . . . but as Misty leaves, Opaline notices the cutie mark Misty drew on her flank. Dun dun duuuun!

Ranodm thoughts:

Opaline always says to "our plan, our ticket to taking over", not "my plan." Clearly she doesn't see Misty as an equal, but I did think it was interesting, as most villains don't talk to their sidekicks in those terms.

Opaline's temperamental nature really hinders her. First she uses her last bit of magic to seal Misty in her room, then when her magic replenishes a bit she blasts through piles of rock at full force. As a result she is tapped out when the Dragonstone falls into a deep crevice.

Hitch mentions him and Sunny having food fights in Grandma Figgy's kitchen when they were kids, which makes me wonder if his Grandma raised him.

Sunny's speech about how cooking can help you when you're stuck or feeling powerless makes me think that it helped her after her dad's death.

I like how lying is treated with nuance in this show. Misty is correct to pretend that she was stuck to the floor for twelve hours . . . because she is living with someone who can, and tried to, stick her to the floor for twelve hours.

When Misty decides to leave Opaline, she packs her most treasured possessions: a game piece from "Dare the Mare" (as seen at "Traditional Unicorn Sleepover"), a craft paper unicorn horn (also from the sleepover), a feather (from Zipp?), her sunglasses from "Ali-Conned", and a cactus.

[hvkno]

does anyone care I CARE

my cousin made me watch descendants w her again and those movies could have been sooo good if they cared at all

like the isle of the lost could have been a politically greedy landscape where malificent and jafar and other power hungry leaders led groups of villains with other deisres (mother gothel, evil queen, gaston etc). as their oldest children are nearing twenties, theres new players on the field.

how would evil queen who has sworn allegiance to maleficent have reacted to mother gothel providing her with the ability to stay young and beautiful forever? how would the two feel when their children became best friends?

and then the children, sent on missions for their parents. the seeds of allies, friends, rivals-- uma and mal, the enemies of the isle of the lost, and uma's best friend, harry dating mal??? oh give me a prequel of them before descendants PLEASE

not to mention how good that would make the payoff of descendants two??

(if you dont care about shipping scroll till you see HADES?? in really big bold text ok thanks)

and then when they get there, they don't throw the boys away as dumb plot devices but give them relationships and arcs and goals? i know, shocker, but tbf they represent women in every disney movie prior to 2009

kill off the fairy godmother's daughter dating carlos and mulan's daughter dating jay plotline i don't want it. let's bring in jay literally falling in love with gil BECAUSE IT IS REAL AND IT HAPPENS IN THE THIRD MOVIE I DONT KID

PLEASE WATCH THIS CLIP ITS PERFECT IN EVERY WAY

and carlos rip cameron boyce ❤️ i dont think he really had a personality but his fits were super solid

i dont want to talk about evie and the dwarf's son other than to say EVIE AND MAL WERE PERFECT

you can find me in the space between YEAH NOW DELETE THAT SPACE BETWEEN YOUR LIPS

and dont talk to me ab ben being left behind because he had uma and/or harry LIKE THATS THE LOVE TRIANGLE I WANT TO WATXH and i no longer feel weird ab wondering if that could have worked as a throuple vibe because riverdale did it w four people so i dont think anyone cares anymore. about anything

if youve never seen descendants and/or your very confused as to where these conclusions are coming from:

dove cameron says she ships evie and mal btw so haters can sit down

and honestly mal and uma work too like truly every ship that wasnt what they did worked so perfectly. and im not even putting a photo for them you and i both know they work

okay i swear this whole thing isnt just ship bait THERE IS MORE

one!

HADES???

why are YOU here? you are the god of the underworld, you have duties! the physics of this doesn't make sense because if hades is real, all gods are real, which means, well i don't know, can't the gods help remove him from this random island? can you imagine the beast trying to bring hades down to the isle of the lost, power struggle, and then finding out mal is his daughter BOOM PLOTLINE

and the beast is not that powerful! which brings me to my next point

why would ben have the beast's superpowers? the superpowers of the beast were a curse and removed. and why would the beast be the king of auradon? he's kind of useless. i think it would be cool and show that the heroes aren't perfect if other people wanted to rule

like not mulan or tiana thats out of character but maybe jasmine and aladdin or elsa and anna??

and where are all of these people from?? how can there be so many students if its js heroes? are there just a bunch of nobodies? why do we never see them this is honestly classist

and your telling me theres a dog but hes not related to the tens of disney dog movies that exist??? hes just some dog?? how can there js be some dog but no some humans?

and last. this is js. jay's adopted. look at him. search him up. he's not south asian, that boy is not related to jafar thanks

GOD, if a single producer there wanted to not just feed children mind numbing gunk in the shape of mid to did i mention songs and toys with dyed hair and a blindindly signature color, descendants could have gone down in history or at least to me as not just the show that killed off my beloved ever after high but a worthy opponent of it

also harry and gil kiss was cut

[getpaidgetlaidgatorade]

new oc stuff

I haven’t drawn in like two months so this will have to do yippeee

iPads been powered off for ages anyway

Jordan:

5’11”, 25 yrs old, heterosexual

mid length hair, dark blue eyes (not soul piercing weezer blue…)

instead of being plain dark brown she’s gonna have highlights like this

still a massive Swiftie ofc slay queen

Skinny Jeans tm addict like Logan because their style is stuck in the 2010s

I think where she would be in life….is like…

most likely not having started a family with Logan lol sex scares him anyway

but more at peace? I imagine her being closer to god

Both Jordan and Logan were raised in catholic households but one of them turned out with irreversible religious trauma 🤡 can u guess who???

he wouldn’t mind though

that she’s like

more religious now

their relationship is more like an unspoken bond idk I suck at romantic shit but basically they don’t need kids or a legal marriage certificate or whatever they’re just chilling living life you know??

Logan:

6’, 26, heteroromantic (ig?) asexual

Still a bitter and angry person especially since his beef with Blair is also still ongoing …..

still hasn’t worked through all his trauma, says he’s fine even though his body is literally givijg out on him at just 26

find this mf awake with bags under his eyes ask him how he slept he says like a baby (had panic attacks and nightmares)

either that or he’ll be like “slept like shit.” And not elaborate

abyways

he has longer hair now yippeeee

I have no clue who the fuck this guy is but imagine Logan’s hair is like this because tbh every time I go to draw his hair it comes out different so hopefully this helps you visualize (?)

This is longer than what it used to be

he would usually have it shorter and more neatly styled, keeping most of the puffiness on top but like. Fuck it. fluffy era

Logan still looks “boyish” like. idk like not a CHILD boy but like. young flushed cheeks

(this doesn’t really contribute to the look but he still picks at his skin as a nervous habit)

basically he’s still pretty much the same.

Except he’s slowly getting over his father’s death and memories of abuse yk?

I know this is kinda lame and disappointing but idk

alsoooo!!! if you’re ever gonna draw him, ripped black skinny jeans are a must! Plus new piercings

like I couldn’t find a good pic but he wears the usual black stud ones in his lobes and rings jn his helix or whatever I don’t know ear parts fucking uhhhh comch.. . daithg…

BLAIRRRR QUEEN SLAY:

I dunno about you but this queen is feeling 22!!!

still slaying LA bitch boots the house down huston

5’2 (without her crazy ass heels), 22, hetero

she’s literally still the exact same bitch just with a cunty bob

sometimes switches it up with extensions

now lives on her own instead of with her father in his mansion

you don’t know how but she’s rich as fuck

her dads still alive so it’s obviously not inheritance…

she doesn’t work ofc she doesn’t wanna get her hands dirty…

clearly she’s doing something shady

but it doesn’t matter because she just bought a new pair of red bottom heels

The pink outfit is her idea of “office core mature siren queen deer beauty”

THATS ALL FOR NOW CUS THIS GOT SUPER LONG I MIGHT DO MORE LATER IF I REMEMBER

this was sooo fun

self indulging with ocs core