#((different universes and different souls and all that))

[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 at 17, 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 barely seventeen 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. 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, enchant you. 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.

The twenty-first year of your life was dangerously close. 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 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 I was seventeen, 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 turned twenty-one—"

"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 have me taking you as wife and putting a baby into you the moment you turned eighteen, 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. "I know, Dad. 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.

[animeyanderelover]

Can I request the HCs with female Isekai'd Darling (from our universe) and characters from: D.Gray-Man - Millennium Earl (human form), Tyki Mikk, Komui Lee, Kanda Yuu and Allen Walker; BSD - Mori, Fyodor; JJK - Geto, Toji, Nanami?

I have already done this concept with Fyodor in the past.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, guilt-tripping, isolation, abduction

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Isekai'd darling

Mori Ougai

🍷​If you ever desire to curse someone for the fate that awaits you in this world then curse no one but little Elise. It is Mori's ability which alerts him of your presence as she senses that there is something different about you. Normally there is little interest that she ever expresses in others so her declaration that there is something different about you perks his interest just a bit. Are you an enemy? If you should prove yourself to be an obstacle then there is no doubt that Mori will get rid of you. Yet upon initial observation you look lost and overwhelmed more than anything else. It could all be just a bluff as Mori knows the one or other thing about a fake appearance to fool others as his gaze follows you, trying to search for any indications that will give you away. Perhaps you feel the eyes of the evil resting on you though, a cold sensation that travels down your spine as you carefully turn your head around as your gut churns as if warning you that there is something terrible about to happen. When you meet the magenta eyes watching you it is already over. You are unable to hide the recognition, the fear as you are met with a man you know to be a dangerous person.

🍷​As both of you are in a public space there is no grand spectacle that Mori can summon as of now but the predatory grin that he gives you with a tilted head is message enough. You know something that you shouldn't know. For that alone he cannot allow you to roam free. Abducting you is relatively easy as soon as the night falls and you stumble still blindly around without a concrete goal in mind. You are not killed as of now though as there still remains the question to be asked where you came from. A question that you struggle to answer and one that More can't find any answers to either. He has caught something within his net that he is unable to identify and that intrigues him but also means that if you do not cooperate will mean torture for you. It is this aspect that forces the answers quickly out of your mouth, praying that Mori will believe your words. It is obvious from the way that he tilts his head and the way his magenta eyes seemingly look into your soul that he tries to decipher if your words are a lie. When he finds nothing though does he start considering your words. You do not strike him as the deceiving type. No, you appear much too honest for that.

🍷​Your abilities would be of great use to him over the course of the story considering that you can predict the events that will go down and Mori plans to abuse that, marking your position as a precious prisoner. There are no games of pretend played from his side considering that you already know just what he is capable of which means that you get relatively early on a front seat to the cruelities that he is capable of. You are a unique chest piece on the board that defies the known positions and perhaps that is why he treasures you so much and keeps such a smothering hold of you. You fascinate him like no other does which kickstarts his entire obsession with you, accompanied by frilly dresses, pink ribbons and a new life as his darling doll. You are kept close to his side under all means necessary with your only playmate being Elise. It is a sad and lonely life that you lead but Mori is not quite as composed as the eye may perceive. No, he is painfully aware that even you have no idea how you got here or if you will ever return and it is this nagging what-if scenario that only serves to make his whole obsession more suffocating as he smothers you every day with the fear that by the next you might be gone.

Allen Walker

🔴​Allen is no ordinary human for he not only houses a Noah within his soul but his left arm and his cursed eye will also perceive what his human eye is unable to perceive. If it wouldn't be for those listed factors it is likely that it would take the boy a lot longer to catch on to your secrets. Yet Nea senses that you are no normal person, a first stirring of curiosity which carries over to Allen. His arm senses a strange energy coursing through your entire body when he touches you, an energy unlike anything he has ever experienced. And then there is his cursed eye which is able to see your soul but not trapped within an Akuma but within this very world, a sight that he struggles to process and understand the first time his cursed eye observes you. Allen hesitates to tell you what he senses but now that he has been made aware that there is something very different about you he realises that you indeed act very strange. Customs, fashion and the daily way of life seem to be such foreign concepts to you yet at the same time you harbor more knowledge about Akuma, the Exorcists and even the Noah family when he briefly mentions them to you. Allen doesn't believe you to be an enemy though.

🔴​Eventually he is led to talk to you about the things that he has discovered, partially influenced by Nea who feels a growing urge to understand what he doesn't you. His brain needs comedically long to properly grasp your words though as the idea of the existence of another world is something out of old alchemists fantasies even with the world filled with mysteries that Allen lives in. What he understands immediately though is your desire to return home and with that he wishes to help you though he has no idea who to ask or where to even start. The situation is not made easier by the fact that not even you seem to know why you landed in this place in the first place but Allen remains optimistic, especially since you are prone to drown in your pessimism. That is the start of the journey that the two of you take as Allen is not only a familiar face to you but also capable of protecting you from the dangers of this world which you might otherwise fall victim to. Additionally Allen fears that the Noah family might come for you if the Earl were to find out about your unique existence. Having you as his companion makes him feel less lonely as he has someone to talk to, the beginning of his growing affection.

🔴​It is the growing discomfort that he feels whenever you bring up the feelings of longing and the homesickness that you feel the longer you are stuck with him in this world. It's a terribly selfish notion that even Allen can recognise as such. As much as he would like to blame those feelings of obsession on Nea though, he knows that some of those thoughts and feelings are born from his heart and not from Nea's. He shouldn't feel that way as you don't belong in this world which is filled with so much more horror than your own home yet his heart is weeping and screaming whenever he imagines the day where you disappear and return to your own place. Thoughts of your laughter and your smile haunt him even in his dreams, venomous words from Nea threatening to seep into the essence of his mind. He doesn't dare to voice any of his internal struggles as the two of you continue your journey though. Actions are still taken as his own feelings of selfishness start to mingle with the good intentions that still exist in his heart. He avoids people who he fears might know of your transportation from one world to another, delays the entire journey to have as much time with you for himself as he can.

Kanda Yu

💙​You are brought to the Black Order precisely because you seek their help out and offer them in return your services as you decide to sell the knowledge that you posses in order to get home. A fair offer, a valuable offer which they cannot pass on as otherwise you might seek out the Noah family. For that sake you are delivered to the head quarters where you meet Yu for the first time. The moment his cold eyes rest on you, you already know that he does not have a high opinion of you. Whenever he is around you there is this burning silence that you desperately wish to break yet you do not dare to utter a single sound as you fear that he would not appreciate that at all. Yu is someone who has been trusted with your true identity and it is precisely because of that knowledge that he doesn't feel comfortable with you. It feels lika a breach of his own privacy that you know so much about his past, his present and his future which he doesn't want you to know. His attitude is borderline rebellious as he constantly tries to go against the knowledge that you have to prove that his future is not carved in stone. The first few months his behavior is colder than the snow storms in Antarctica.

💙​It takes him a lot of time to slowly warm up to your presence and to treat you kinder as he starts not treating the time with you as an order that he begrudgingly finishes because it is his job. That doesn't mean that things are suddenly all sunshine and rainbow between the two of you. The tension is still there though now it shifts into awkwardness which is in some aspects worse as you recognise his subtle attempts to be a tad bit nicer to you only to unintentionally say something or do something rude and cold once again when he retreats as he senses the awkwardness of the situation. Still, baby steps get the two of you somehwere until the atmosphere between you eases and becomes more bearable for the both of you. Sometimes you even tell him of the life you have led in your own world though you never try to talk too much as you don't think that he would appreciate if you were to ramble his ears full. Truth be told, you don't even know if he is listening at all sometimes but you just need to get your emotions sometimes out of your chest. Yu is in fact listening though he never utters a single word, absorbing your feelings and words silently.

💙​The beginning of his obsession puts the two of you almost back to level zero as his feelings threaten to crush and overwhelm him, clawing at his icy composure that he has always kept around him. His obsession alienates Yu from you. He takes more missions in order to spend less time with you but never dares to ask Komui to be excused from his guard duty permanently, afraid that the head of the branch will catch on to his troubling emotions. In your absence the possessive feelings grow though, the uncomfortable knowledge that you seek a way to return to your own home with the help of the Black Order. Against his better judgement he meddles with the entire process as he needs to know how far the research has already gotten and if there has been any way found to bring you back. When he finds out that there still has been no theory made how to bring you back, something within Yu eases as he finds himself to be less agitated and on edge. His priorities shift once more with time as he settles into his obsession as he suddenly insits on taking over most of the guard duties, viewing other Exorcists as too incompetent and inexperienced to look after you and protect you.

Komui Lee

👓​Komui observes you the first time you are brought into his office with a confusing mixture of caution, fascination and the silliness that most of his co-workers are familiar with. Though he may not look like it, there is a deeper understanding of the humans ways and feelings that he has adopted over the years that he has been the head of the European Branch. He trusts his ability to inspect a person and figure out whether they have bad intentions or not. You do not strike him as someone who has a bad thought in their head, your demeanor instead scared, lonely and lost. Still, it is the vast amount of knowledge that you possess that has been the reason why you were brought into the headquarters to begin with as Lenalee picked you up during a mission after you confined a worrying amount of information to her that no one is supposed to know. Komui spends the entire time pouring you coffee and offering you biscuits as you honestly confess to him what has happened, who you are, from where you are and how you got here. By all accounts it is a story that no one should believe yet he does not sense a single lie in your face nor can your words of knowledge and wisdom be ignored.

👓​The Black Order is quite happy to keep you protected and within their reach as the knowledge that you have might just ensure their victory against the Noah family and their goals. They agree to help you to find a way back but only if you share with them everything that you know. Komui is one of them. He has not abandoned his humanity and he sees how much pressure is put on you, pressure he attempts to shield you from as good as possible. At the same time he is dedicated to the course and the goal of the Black Order. Your knowledge could save lives and reduce the casualties that the organisation so often suffers. It could save his younger sister from death or vast injuries if you simply share everything that you know will happen in the future. As the head of the European Branch he spends surprisingly much time with you though not solely for extracting information from you. No, in fact he uses you as an excuse to avoid his paperwork as he only appears to question you about important matters when in reality he is just chatting excitedly with you about your own world, fascinated to hear about how it works all whilst relentlessly pouring you coffee and feeding you biscuits.

👓​Very much in tune with his emotions despite his silly exterior, Komui is a surprisingly terrifying person to have in such a situation. He has one of the highest positions attainable, your life in those headquarters is pretty much in his hands and all scientific research to find a way to bring you back home can and will be stalled by him. He has always been confronted with difficult decisions that have made him look more than once like a heartless person yet deep down he has always felt guilt and pain. The decision he makes after he has acknowledged his obsession with you goes through no different process of emotions. Behind the scenes he starts meddling with the research, informs himself of any theories that might have been created only to find a way to rebunk them and might even put the research on pause for a longer while. None of that reaches your ears though as he lies perfectly to your face, keeps up that peculiar and strange facade around you to distract you from digging too deep. You cannot leave. You are much too valuable for the Black Order and the lives that he partially holds responsibility over. You're much too precious to him too, his feelings something he knows he can't stop.

The Millenium Earl/Adam

🎃​Adam is bound to sense that there is something special about you, an energy that he has never felt in any other human before. No Innocence but something entirely different that draws him to you. What exactly it is is something that he fails to put his finger around and so he decides to ask no one but Wisely to take a deeper look into your thoughts. What the younger Noah reveals to him afterwards surpasses anything that he could have ever predicted and immediately he knows that he has to have you. Not yet as adam but as the Earl who would greatly profit from having someone who knows so much about the future of this world as well as its past and hidden secrets. Eager to finally meet you himself, the Millenium Earl decides to take on the role of your abductor. Your horror is kindly ignored as he introduces himself to you with that signature bright grin on his face. His voice filled with the eagerness and the thrill of having someone as valuable on his side and hopefully achieve his goal before you are put into unconsciousness and are carried back by another Noah. As the Earl he is quite different, his words sweet but always laced with subtle threats if you should not comply.

🎃​The moment he reveals himself as Adam to you all of that changes. His human form is only something that he shows you after he has already gained his obsession for you and has realised that as the Millenium Earl he is bound to always frighten you no matter how kind he might try to be. The guilt seems to fully hit him whenever he is Adam as he reconsiders the behavior he exhibits around you as the Earl and even he has to silently recoil when he realises just how borderline creepy he tends to be in his other form. In this form he attempts to undo as much of that damage as possible though deep down he is still understanding if you are still too frightened to spend much time with him even in his human form. Pressure is on from the other members of the Noah family though who all have long recognised the Earl's feelings and fully back him up even though not all of them necessarily hold the highest opinion of you. Considering your peculiar circumstances though the blow of their dislike might be softened though. They often force you in situations where you are stuck with him. Adam knows of those attempts and whilst he doesn't fully support them, he doesn't stop them either.

🎃​Wailing guilt crashes with a biological need to keep you with him, to always have you by his side. Your longing for your family and true home pain him. How could they not for he is also all too familiar with the loss of family? Yet his very soul is weeping with the thought of assisting you to find a way back home. He loves you after all. It may not be the love in fairy tales but he views it as a pure love nevertheless. Adam is very open with those wishes to you, desperate to have you understand even if only a bit. He's only met with tears and betrayal, a sight that cuts so much deeper than Innocence ever could. His decision may waver with such incidents but it never crumbles for his need to love you and have you outweights everything else. You are a part of this family now and he dearly hopes that eventually you will grow to accept that and even love your new life here. That future is not guaranteed though as Adam knows that even your arrival remains elusive, a riddle unsolved. The phenomenon may struck again though, only that it might take you back to your own world this time. A thought so terrible that it only fuels him to cling to you tighter, pleading in his heart for you to not disappear.

Tyki Mikk/Joyd

🦋​Tyki is no ordinary human. He is something more than that and it is his Noah which reacts so strongly to your presence, something that stands out from the crowd of other humans. There's something different about you but it is no Innocence. It is something that not even Joyd can categorise and it is the failure to understand what makes you so different from the rest that puts unbeknown to you a target on your back. He may not eliminate you as he still needs to learn what it is that makes you so different but if you should turn out to be a threat he will be forced to do something. For now Tyki decides to spy on you though in hopes of figuring you out. His human form has always worked as a disguise yet never before has he seen such a reaction from any human before. Distrust, wariness, a gaze that seemingly transcends what a human eye should perceive. It is a short spark in your gaze but it is a spark of recognition nevertheless, one that lets him know that he has been found out before he could have done anything. If you know so much about him already, what do you know about the rest of his family? Some part itches to get rid of the potential threat but he is civilised enough to allow you an explanation.

🦋​He struggles to believe you when you see yourself backed against a wall and forced to reveal to him what you are. Yet he does not sense any dishonesty on your face. Your story seems rather far-stretched though and you sense that he is struggling to accept that story. With no other option left as you have already caught his eye now you offer yourself that he could ask his nephew Wisely to read your mind. The casual mention of a member of his family as well as the awareness of his abilities startles him, his eyes narrowing in hostility before he reluctantly agrees. The hostility is partially replaced when it turns out that you are speaking the truth but that is quickly snuffed out by hesitation and a cluelessness on how to treat someone like you now. The Earl seems rather keen on keeping you though. Your knowledge would be useful in their hands and he cannot let you be found by the Black Order. Additionally you are such a special human, from a new world completely. Now, Tyki feels a tad bit guilty for essentially making you a prisoner of the Noah family and he attempts his best to provide you with some sense of normalcy amongst all of the chaos you are stuck in.

🦋​Perhaps it is your knowledge that allows you to bear more understanding for his family even though you don't agree with all of their goals. Nevertheless, you are indeed a very strange human and that stirs a growing fascination that Tyki and even Joyd have for you. He's a member of this family who spends arguably the most time with you and has plenty of chances to discover your personality and little quirks. A sick pride and possessiveness fills his chest whenever you entrust him with your thoughts and secrets, basking in the knowledge that you reveal so much of yourself to him. His human side and his Noah side are quite torn apart as his obsession festers. However, your freedom is not a decision that he is capable of making, no matter how guilty Tyki may feel. You have already gotten too deeply involved with his family to escape and it is this unchangable fact that has Joyd almost purring. You're not going anywhere after all. He lays claim on you pretty soon, something that all other Noah realise pretty soon with the way he behaves around you. The Earl welcomes it, giddily proclaims you as a new family member. As part of the family they will find a way to forever keep you in this world.

Fushiguro Toji

🪱​The decision to actually save Toji is one that is surprisingly hard for you, especially once you meet the man himself. Still struggling to settle in this world, it is an almost mocking twist of fate that you end up working in the tiny restaurant where he often likes to hang out. He has an infamous reputation in that place due to his rude and cocky personality and it is not hard for you to see why. After all he is quite an unbearable jerk. And the smell! He reeks like he has been sharing a rubbish bin with racoons as his home. It costs you quite a few customers and against your better judgement you make the unfortunate decision to stand up against him. After all the owner of this place was kind enough to offer you a job and you will not have your wobbly life be ruined all because of him. He only gives you a lazy glance when you start lecturing him angrily, demand of him to be at least a little bit less of a jerk and behave himself. Then he goes back to ignoring you, infuriating you even more. You persist though until you finally manage to get on his nerves and he towers over you in all of his glory. God, you are terrified but stubbornly refuse to be intimidated by him. Oh, you only end up making everything worse.

🪱​Toji finds your presence to be quite amusing as you become his favorite plaything to rile up and make all angry and mad whenever he visits the place you work in. He seems to genuinely enjoy messing with your emotions if you would have to judge based on that shitty smirk on his face every time you lose your temper. He appreciates the bit of spunk that you have and the pathetic attempts of yours to have him behave better. Do you believe that you can fix him or some shit like that? You are the only person he has actual interactions with though most of them exist of him provoking you and watching as you look like you're torn apart between crying or screaming though you always hold it in and just glare stubbornly at him as you refuse to give him the satisfaction. Still, you keep up with him and deep down some part of him appreciates that. You're a little mystery yourself as he has one time actually tried to look into your past out of boredom only to find nothing. He isn't bothered by that though as he lives only in the present and the only thing that matters somewhat that he gets to be entertained by your antics. Everything boils down to when you spot him with Shiu Kong and realise that his death is close.

🪱​You try to be friendly, try to stir him away from that path only to be rudely told off. His insensitive words tip you over the edge and that is when you explode and reveal far too much only to conclude that you won't give a shit then and he can die if he wants to. No one will miss him. In the next moment he slams you against the wall, his fists cracking the solid material behind him. Your words have triggered memories he has been pushing away and now you have brought it all back. How do you know all of that? He leaves you no choice, smells your dishonesty and refuses to let you go until you have spat everything out. For the first time he actually finds his demeanor shaken, the troubling emotions even briefly visible on his face before he pushes it all down. Then he just knocks you out and brings you into some cheap hotel where people won't question him carrying your unconscious form into the room. When you wake up, there are a lot of things that he would like to talk about with you. He doesn't feel like dying, a notion that has only recently spawned into existence because of you. You know, maybe he will listen to your advice. He has other plans. Plans that involve you in every aspect.

Geto Suguru

​🗻​Monkeys. Filth that Suguru believes has to be eradicated from this earth as peace will only exist in a society with sorcerers. Non-sorcerers are worthless as they produce the very curses so many sorcerers die for. Suguru sees the curses, senses Cursed Energy. However, around you he senses absolutely nothing. No Cursed Energy leaking out of you, no negative emotions that would only produce more curses. Your very presence is an anomaly as even curses pass you as if your presence is invisible to them. Your very existence is a great irritation to Geto who has always believed sorcerers to be the superior humans. You should by all accounts be a monkey as you do not see the curses around you yet at the same time curses have such a peculiar reaction to you as they cannot sense you properly nor can they latch on you. He doesn't know what you are as you are neither a sorcerer nor a monkey and that triggers Geto more than it should. It's like your very existence is a thorn in his eyes. He observes you with great hostility as he tries to figure out who you are. When he approaches you, he hides all of his ill feelings though. Only for you to stir away from him as if he is the plague.

​🗻​That certainly triggers him. You dare to treat him like that? You, a monkey who has no worth to your existence? Oh, now you have provoked and angered him. The abduction is sped up and he willingly allows the people he sends out to be rougher with you as you have punched his ego the wrong way. His face reveals all of his emotions when you are thrown in front of his feet. The disgust, the anger and above all that frustration of not knowing in which category he should put you in. He attempts to intimidate you, to reveal to you of his world and all of the curses yet his eyebrow can only twitch when that triggers no shock or fear out of you. Instead you look at him before firing right back at him, revealing that you already know. You know? How do you know? You cannot see curses! You have no Cursed Energy! It is pitiful as you observe how he loses his temper in front of you for a few seconds and the way you look at him only damages his ego further. It takes him more willpower than it should to regain his composure, his eyes narrowing before he grabs your chin harshly. Oh, he will teach you how to behave properly in front of someone like him. He will figure you out.

​🗻​Suguru forces you through a lot, doesn't stop until he has the information that he desires and the respect he believes you owe him. The truth you do reveal to him though not out of fear but spite when you manage to trigger his temper and he seethes about the useless existence of your kind. That shuts him up for a good while. You even imagine a glimpse of terror on his face before he storms out of your room. Indeed, you have seen fear within him. He tries to ignore the words, attempts to have you admit that you have been lying to him but even if he were to force you to say it, the truth would still be in your eyes. The news of his death shake him, the knowledge that his body will be used for other goals even more. In front of your seemingly all-knowing gaze he suddenly feels vulnerable and exposed and he despises that feeling. There has been a gravid shift in the power dynamics between him and you and it has tilted in favor of you. No matter what he does, the damage is there and is there to stay as well. Still, Suguru refuses to let you leave. You know too much, are too valuable even though it pains him to admit that. He will fix that twisted imbalance between the two of you though. You just wait.

Nanami Kento

💛​As a sorcerer Nanami is bound to notice that there is something off about you as soon as he meets you but he decides that as long as you are no danger to others, he will not dig too deep into the matter. You do not question him too deeply about his past and he decides to return that favor out of respect. You struggle within your own life a lot as you seem to be new to the city and try to find the right balance yet you are always very kind to him when you see him. Almost too kind in Nanami's opinion as you try your hardest even when you had a visibly bad day. He assures you time and time again that it is not neccessary for you to be that kind-hearted to him but you always insist until he just caves in. He doesn't mind the occasional appreciation but yours feels excessive to the point where Nanami gets suspicios. Something feels wrong even though he cannot wrap his finger around it. The more suspicious he gets though, the more he starts paying attention to your strange existence. You are no sorcerer yet you do not create any Cursed Energy. You are not like Maki though which leaves him with little clues to work with. Your behavior around him is strange as well, the sadness and guilt in your glances confusing the man.

💛​He doesn't believe you to be a bad person but the longer time passes, the more the lack of information about you as well as the unusual way of your very existence start to bother him. Time has forged a tight bond between the two of you, one that has made Nanami very attached to you. After a long and tiring day you seem to be the light at the end of the tunnel, a little paradise where he can just relax for a while. With that attachment follows a need to protect you though, to know about where you are at which time so he can assure that nothing will happen to you. He is not blind to his emotions for you, knows what they entail yet it has never been as difficult for him to control his feelings as it is when he is with you. In his future where he so far has only seen him enjoying his retirement he suddenly envisions you by his side, an image that refuses to be pushed away. Subtle attempts to question you about your past are usually quickly shot down by you yet the flicker of guilt is always there and it starts to bother him more and more. Once he starts courting you do you end up rumbling, the guilt eating you out alive. You can't do this anymore.

💛​You sit down with him, you confess everything to him. Initially you can see that he doesn't believe you but the more you start revealing, the more you notice the shift in your expression and body language. When you get to the Shibuya Incident and arrive at his death he suddenly shuts you up, his lips pressed into a thin line. He needs a few seconds before he finds the strength and the right words to speak again, immediately asking you if you have told anyone else. When you shake your head he instantly warns you sternly to not tell another soul. Everyone would try to either eliminate or capture you to make use of you power if word were to slip out. This is a secret that will remain between him and you for now, for your own safety. Everything makes sense to him now. The kindness you always showed him, the guilt he would always see when you were looking at him. All because in the future he is going to sacrifice himself. All the information you have entrusted him with haunt him at night and rob him of his sleep, a simmering frustration as he realises that there may not be a future for him. If there is no possibility for a future with you, at least give your presence to him and let him be selfish just a bit.

[velvetvexations]

"Women do traditionally feminine stuff because they are afraid of the men in their lives." Hilarious, because for me growing up all of the worst misogyny I faced was at the hands of other women, usually family and friends, and whenever I caved into the pressure to do feminine things I didn't want to it was specifically because I was seeking the approval of other women. None of the men in my life have ever forced femininity on me the way the cis women have. The people who made fun of me for dressing "badly" and not shaving and spread rumors I was secretly a boy were all girls. I kept trying to get into makeup, not because I wanted boys to think I was cute(all the guys who've shown interest in me have actually liked me just fine the way I am), but because I wanted the women around me to see me as one of them and I never felt like I was.

Even when women aren't pressuring me to do girly things I still feel the pressure because I'm the only woman I know who doesn't and it makes me feel like a freak. I don't care what the men around me think, a guy getting weird about my not shaving or wearing makeup would be instantly disqualified from my dating pool without a second thought, being raised a feminist very quickly inoculated me against giving a shit what men think, but the women? My whole life I have been trying so hard to be one of them and it's still hard work to ignore the annoying internalized patriarchal cisheteronormative bullshit in my head making me think I need to be more like them and less like me. And I genuinely don't know if there will ever come a day when I can hang out in a group of women and not feel like an imposter just waiting to be discovered and killed.

And I know that my experiences aren't universal any more than the person who originally said that's are, but like. It's just wild to me that trans people especially will chalk all of the pressure to conform to gender roles up to shitty men and completely ignore how heavily the patriarchy incentivizes women to not only violently police each other's femininity but also destroy ourselves seeking the approval of the very women who are violently policing our femininity.

EXACTLY.

I love cis women who our allies with all my heart and soul, but we need to stop being desperate for their approval. The cis women who DO care about us would be the first to admit they as a category need to do a lot better, so why do we pussyfoot around them being just as horrible to us as cis men can be?

With trans women it feels like we're just trying to link arms under the exact same oppressive patriarchy because it feels like that's what being a woman is, haha yeah, men hate us, I mean they hate us in different ways and you hate us too but what matters above all else is that we're the exact same thing right? Oh, sorry, like seventy percent of you don't believe that and are violently disgusted by the thought of coming anywhere near me? But I also fear men!

And trans men...

"Women are soooo scared of me, yeah you better cover your drink around trans men too, I mean not that I would do anything personally, but I could, because I'm a man, and that means I could oppress and hurt you, theoretically!"

Listen, bro, most cis women aren't scared of you, they're laughing at you, and frankly so am I, not because it's impossible for a trans man to be a person who's intimidating, but because you're so needy for validation that you've developed a patriarchy fetish you can't turn off.

None of this is to say we should ignore the crimes of cis men or that cis women aren't also another marginalized class, and again, I love cis women who're trans allies, they're amazing, wonderful people and I would never want to leave them behind or seem ungrateful.

[liondrakes]

Reposting my response since my alterhuman blog is currently shadowbanned:

I come from Toril, and for those who don't know, Toril is the world belonging to The Forgotten Realms of Dungeons & Dragons. To get to the long and short of it, Toril is one of the Planes' greatest magic magnets. My world is synonymous with chaos and high adventure for this exact reason, and what I'm about to tell you is just one example of that.

One of the wildest practices we have is planehopping. Although it didn't originate from Toril, it's certainly quite popular with residents of Toril.

If you're interested in good, old-fashioned fantasy fuckery, here's the rundown:

The realms that my source calls "campaign settings" exist as their own universes where I come from, independent from each other but capable of being accessed through either advanced levels of magic or the assistance of a Planar being. In terms of how people achieve these means, both sound harder than they actually are. All it takes is one overachieving wizard or one kiss-ass warlock to get the job done.

Individuals who regularly venture between these universes are known as Planehoppers. Ranging anywhere from seasoned wizards such as Mordenkainen to adventurous parties itching to become cosmic legends, planehopping culture is well-documented but hardly ever encouraged. If anything, it's in the same vein of things you'd argue over at Thanksgiving. Magic is not out of the norm whatsoever, but what type of magic you practice will always be squabbled over.

As one would assume, Planehoppers rarely stay in one realm after they depart from their realm of origin. Many pursue this lifestyle with individual goals in mind, whether it be Mordenkainen's quest to protecting The Balance (a cosmic force that is exactly as it sounds) or a ballsy adventurer looking for treasures across the realms.

Some individuals become Planehoppers as a rather extreme form of soul-searching. Spiritual Planehoppers take to the stars and explore the realms beyond to broaden their understanding of existence. They are the minority of Planehoppers; even so, their introspections create some pretty interesting spiritual and philosophical discourses.

Although planehopping is a point of contention in some realms (like my own), it is far from a new practice. In fact, there's a couple of civilizations that exposed the fabric of the Planes early on, forged their own means of travel and became culturally nomadic as a result. The most notable of which are Astral Elves.

Having left the Feywilds to further their knowledge, Astral Elves were the first spacefarers and would observe other realms from afar. Some members of the community argued that there was too much risk in entering the Material Plane and exploring its realms when they didn't originate from them.

Others insisted that this could establish interplanar diplomacies and unprecedented opportunities for future generations of Astral Elves. Lest they forget, this also meant an unrivaled wealth of knowledge for Elvenkind. All of it was in their midst and could be theirs if they took the chance. Unsurprisingly, this led to division.

Some Astral Elves weren't wrong in being cautious, however. Constant planehopping isn't without its consequences. Time passes differently from realm to realm. Depending on how far a neighboring "setting" is from one's own, a simple visit for a couple of hours could've been a couple of years in your realm's time.

Following up on the previous bulletpoint, traveling from realm to realm is one thing. After all, most campaign settings exist within the Material Plane. Traveling from plane to plane is a completely different case. Why? It's because Planes are the very layers of our reality. Traveling from the Material Plane to the Outer Planes, for example, would have the most extreme effect out of any venture, likely causing centuries (at most, a millennium) to pass when one returns to their realm.

This affects one's biological clock as well. Getting adjusted to the passage of time is never easy, no matter how experienced one is. That's because traveling feels so sudden when it wasn't sudden at all. Reckless planehopping is a fast way to fuck up your life, because unwittingly, you're stretching out your age like elastic. Astral Elves are nearly immortal because of this.

Mind you, this isn't even touching on the fact that some beings have interplanar/dimensional counterparts of themselves.

Most Planehoppers are fortunate enough to not cross paths with them if they have any, but those odds are never zero!

I hope this was of interest. I had fun to talking about this!

I want to hear about other worlds. Tell me something about your world, please

[completeoveranalysis]

[9]

I was writing tags on the previous post and they got too big SO LET’S GO BACK TO THIS BRIEFLY. 

I think it’s fun that Syaoran is the one that asks if Clow Reed tried to resurrect Yuuko deliberately, knowing it was wrong. Since Syaoran is the one who was trying to save Sakura from the same fate from the beginning of the manga. 

It’s not quite on the same level but it’s a very interesting link in framing - a bit of a connection between Syaoran and Clow Reed, his ancestor. Both of them trying to save their special person from the brink of death, and what those wishes led to.

But also! The layer to it that’s like… Clow Reed didn’t mean to alter the universe, he just had a thought he couldn’t control. And that resonates with this Syaoran specifically since he ALSO had thoughts he couldn’t control - the clone programming was always pushing him towards the feathers beyond his ability to control it, to the point that it continued alone in his body even after his soul disappeared. Syaoran and Clow Reed BOTH had something uncontrollable within them that reacted to their emotions of grief and loss and caused great suffering in the universe - Clow Reed accidentally breaks the world, and Syaoran’s clone programming goes on killing sprees to retrieve the feathers. 

It’s a unique link between the two that is MIRRORED by Lava Lamp but comes out differently for him. Clow Reed and Syaoran didn’t INTEND for those consequences. Lava Lamp ends up in the same situation as both of them, hit with a sudden grief of someone they care about on the brink of death and tries desperately to save her - except he actually does consciously make the choice to trade the negative consequences to turn back time. Even if, you know, under duress.

Though in saying that, Lava Lamp has a fun parallel to each of them on his own as well. On one side side of the triangle Lava Lamp and Clow Reed’s wish (one intentional, one not) both resulted in someone being frozen in time. On the other side he has a different parallel to Syaoran’s wish at the START of Tsubasa, to save Sakura but pay a terrible price, where they both Chose that choice out of grief in the moment (though Clow did not).  

So it’s like a funky little Venn diagram of the horrible haunting cause and effect between intentional and unintentional choices, all focussed around these people in the same family.

[catbread0]

Can I req for kusuriuri? Like, their soul are bond together like the red string of fate and the reader is like from another timeline, specifically 2024 and Kusuriuri is his timeline and when the reader kept following the red string because she was a little envious of her friends that had found their soulmates, the reader was like led to a torii gate and didn’t know that she’s be in a different time line once she stepped inside. Ty!!!!

Ri-Kusuriuri (2007) x Future! Reader

This was a lovely request! Thank you for requesting! I'm sorry for any mistakes!

(*＾▽＾*)

words: 793

Fluff

Mononoke 2007 Materlist

A Past Love

You were lying in bed, staring at the red string on your finger. The red string was attached to the person's finger, and it would lead them to their soulmate.

However, your red string was different. Yes, there was a red string around your finger, but the rest of the string to follow wasn't. It was just a small strand.

The red string can't be cut, so why was yours like this?

All your friends had found their soulmates, always on dates, talking about them, posting with them. They looked like those Hollywood romance love movies with a happily ever after. Meanwhile, you were the only person in your friend group to not find your soulmate.

You didn’t fit in.

You were envious of their relationships, but you didn’t hate them for it. It wasn’t something that they did on purpose. Were you even destined to have a soulmate? Did not one person in the universe romantically love you?

You let out a heavy sigh from your thoughts and saw it was late outside, and you decided to get into your sleeping wear and get some rest. 

A few hours have passed, and you wake up to a sudden feeling on your finger. As you groggily sit up and look at your finger, you see a long red string attached.

That immediately awakened you, and you looked at your phone. It was the middle of the night. You suddenly felt a hard thug on your finger, as if it was trying to pull you somewhere.

You wanted to change first, but the string kept tugging more rougher that it nearly dragged you off your bed. You just put on whatever shoes you found, a jacket, and took your phone and ran as the string kept pulling. It felt as if it would break off your finger at any time soon due to its strength and constant tugging as you run.

The string led you outside of the area you lived in and into the deeper parts of the woods, then to the mountains, and soon, you found an entrance to a cave. You were hesitant to enter. Nevertheless, you continued due to the strings pulling.

As you went further into the cave, you saw a light from the distance. The light was from a Torii gate, and you stood in front of it. 

That's where the string ended.

You were about to lose hope and go back home. All of a sudden, the Torii gate opens a portal, although it doesn't show where it led. The string tugged at you to continue into the portal, and so you followed.

You were now lying in a field of grass while unconscious. The moment you get your consciousness back, your eyes shoot open, and you quickly sit up.

You look around at your surroundings and realize you are now wearing a yukata!

You looked for your phone, but to no luck. Instead, you would only find a pouch with a couple of gold coins.

You heard many voices further into the woods and decided to walk towards it. Maybe someone could help you. Soon, you ended up in a busy market street. However, you noticed how everything was very outdated.

You couldn't pinpoint what exact year it was, but you could tell it was nowhere near 2024. Nevertheless, you continued to follow your red string while trying to keep away from any stares you attracted.

Soon, you find yourself in front of a large boat and pay a fee to a little elderly-looking man. As you explored the top of the ship, you heard others introducing themselves. You did as well and saw the last person.

That’s when you looked down at the strange man, and you realized the red string was connected to him. You didn’t hesitate to immediately run down to reach this supposed ‘medicine seller’.

He was just now around the corner, but something was stopping you….

Would he see you as a nuisance? Would you even be what he’s looking for? What about your family? Your friends? 

“Are you going to just stand there?”

You were suddenly taken out of your train of thought when an unsettling monotone voice spoke. 

You just looked at him and wanted to say something. However, no words could be spoken. You didn’t know what to say.

As silence filled between the two of you, he took your hand that had the red string and examined it. His slender hands felt rough against yours.

His eyes wandered off to your figure, examining every inch of you. You felt as if you were burning up and wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

Finally, the silence was broken by him, “I wondered when we would cross paths…again.”

~Lilly's

[the-3merald-butterfly]

✨𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐬✨

To begin, you must know that the universe is made of energy. Everything that moves around you, everything that lives and thinks is given life by the tiny magical lights which we call... 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐬. These are very powerful shards of energy of unknown origin. Whether they are the essence of a God of Creation or simply their own thing, all you need to know is that Lums are responsible for all of creation. Lums come in many different colors, each with it's own special powers. There are 7 types of Lums in total.

💛𝐘𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝: The Yellow Lums grant wisdom and knowledge, allowing one to gain better understanding of concepts and the world around them. When gathered, they offer insights into whatever question you may have.

✨

❤𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫: The Red Lums are full of vital energy. They allow for strength and power to exist within the universe. When gathered, they can offer a boost in one's power and capabilities. They can even prolong your life. Since they represent pure power, many individuals such as pirates love gathering them for their energy.

✨

💜𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞: The Purple Lums grants a continuous area with dimensions within which all things exist and move. When gathered, one can use them to warp from one place to another by grabbing hold of the rings on them and throwing them as far as you can. Where they end up, you will be warped to, allowing for faster travel.

✨

🤍𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞: The White Lums create the basic physical reality that we reside in. When gathered, White Lums are able to change something into something else: for example, a book into a chair, a bed into a table, etc.

✨

💖𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞: The Pink Lums assure the cohesion of the world. They govern and balance the structure of all of creation. Without them, nothing would be solid or visible. When gathered, these lums can be used to restore things back to their prime.

✨

💚𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: The Green Lums give the universe motion, being the very cosmic force that pushes time forward. These lums can record your placement in time from when you gathered them, allowing you to return to when you encountered them by rubbing it.

💙𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥: The Blue Lums contain the first breath. They are the origin of all life, and connect all living things down to their very soul. Each creature receives at birth a combination of Blue Lums which make up their soul, which they keep and maintain until they die. When gathered, these lums allow one to gain a sort of "extra life." It can resurrect the dead and allow you to resurrect from the brink of death.

✨

A huge thank you to @joker-shiromiya for helping me write this!!! It's amazing!!! Please check out their stuff too!! They create the coolest stuff!! (And tell them Z says hi!!)

So yes!! These are my AU design for Rayman's Lums, I wanted them to be unique from each other and represent something within the Glade!!

[korok-system]

Influenced .

Warnings: Alcoholic influence. Discussions of death, guilt, and heavy mourning. Plot related death. Standard SAW stuff.

Fandom: SAW.

Character/s: Mark Hoffman, Angelina Acomb.

Content: 3rd person perspective, SAW plot.

Synopsis: A poetic approach to Mark's dark days following the death of his aister, Angelina.

He remembered receiving the call on a random Tuesday.

As he draped his charcoal jacket over his shoulders and grabbed his badge, he distinctly remembered undergoing the same process he always did when responding to a homicide. Willing the world to be in his favour, allowing his soul to accrue a debt unpayable as the screech of his tires kept him from spiraling down the rabbit-hole of “what if?” scenarios.

It was something he never failed to do. A routine that would gnawe at his mind like an impulse that couldn't be silenced until he had visual confirmation that he wasn’t responding to the homicide of the one person he had.

Being confronted with brutality and violence so consistantly had dulled his empathy and compassion over time. It was something that his work friends would poke at him for, constantly questioning his humanity, concealing their genuine concern behind awkward laughter and forced smiles.

It had always made him uncomfortable how often his vision would haze these days.

Had he been a bad person in his past?

Sure, he had always felt some sense of relief when the victims being obscured by a body bag weren’t familiar… But did that make him a bad person, or human?

He had followed first responders into the small home, the sweet caramel aroma of previously lit candles greeted him, corrupted by the harsh scent of blood and the chaos of an active crime scene.

He’d navigated through the small home as though the layout was familiar, his feet carrying him along the beige coloured walls that once inhabited life and joy, every muscle suddenly taught and weak.

Because he knew.

Every step echoed the unpaid debt that the Universe was finally seeking compensation for.

And for a man who never devoted time to religion, a complete Atheist who had long accepted that death was an utter nothingness with no semblance of an afterlife… He found himself praying.

Her hand had been cold, her soul fleeing from the trauma long before he’d arrived.

She hadn’t returned the gesture when he squeezed her hand, hadn’t embraced him and spoke in the soft voice that now only lives within nightmares.

Why had those “what if?” scenarios become a reality? Was it because he was a bad person?

Had he been a bad person?

His vision was fuzzy again. Fuck.

The days following had been a dissociated blur, a haze of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling all clashing at once and making her death much harder to process.

Officers paid their condolences, all in passing, all without the genuine care they’d once shown during a period where he was already doubting himself.

Now, he was doubting everything.

Whiskey no longer tasted bitter.

His sorrow drowned out the joy of liqour.

Had he been a bad person?

The justice system had proved futile when handling the case with care and sympathy; denying him the closure he so desperately needed and treating his sister’s murder as a simple paper weight.

It was a meaningless scrap of paper, another statistic, another name to be spoken when it suited the world.

He’d lost hope in his own field that day.

He’d been selfish to assume he could make a difference… And all it took was a harsh slap of reality to enlighten him.

Rage and despair had consumed him, and he’d slowly become more detached, more sadistic, more sociopathic.

That once clear line between right and wrong blurred into obscurity.

He was a bad person.

Desperation had driven him to take matters into his own hands, and through a punctured hole in the steel wall, he paid witness to his warped sense of justice.

Justice had failed him… So he would become the arbiter of his own twisted retribution.

He is a bad person.

And he slowly came to enjoy it.

His vision wasn’t blurry anymore.

[kraviolis]

*clings onto any and all characters who show both subtle or explicit signs of plurality from all of my various interests and hyperfixations consistently throughout my entire life* no no its all a coincidence im just fascinated with the concept i certainly dont relate to it haha

[fictionadventurer]

Tagged by @saxifrage-wreath (three weeks ago, but better late than never!) Thank you!

Last Song: Whatever the last song was at church this morning. Maybe "With One Voice"?

Favourite Colour: Purple

Last Movie/TV Show: I watched some classic Looney Tunes shorts

Sweet/spicy/savoury: Sweet, but lately I have had increasing cravings for salty snacks.

Relationship status: Fine on all fronts

Last internet search: How to spell the first name of William H. Seward's campaign manager/ruthless political boss Thurlow Weed.

Current obsession: After experiencing a lot of museums this week, my history obsession--specifically Lincoln/Civil War history and WWI history--is coming back strong. I've also got a major craving to develop an extremely derivative cozy fantasy universe involving a bunch of different races and characters with cultural/personality clashes.

Tagging: Anyone who has had something sweet to eat today

[pepperpixel]

which fandom do you think you were most involved in

Hmmmmm, this is a tough question!!! But also, an interesting one lol. I’d say, in terms of actually creating and uploading art it’d be either Undertale or SCP! Most likely it’s SCP but I remember being RLLY into Undertale back when it first came out and drawing a bunch of stuff for it

But, in terms of the fandom I was MOST personally involved and invested and ride or die on for the longest amount of my life, regardless of amount of fanart I’ve drawn (cuz robots r hard to draw…) it would without question be transformers lol, I’ve been obsessed with that shit since like 5th grade… I used to read thru tfwiki pages just for fun as a child and to see the funny captions on photos or the interesting trivia. I had one of crashboombangers old brainstorm voice clips as my alarm clock back then and it was DEVASTATINGLY LOUD, I shared my room w someone else back then and had that as my alarm and little me, had no sense of common decency towards someone else’s sleep cuz that shit was like a bomb went off at 5:30. It was terribly loud ghgh-

I was, And still am kinda obsessed with sharing and showing transformers to ppl cuz I think it’s rlly good!!! (Generally I show Tfp to ppl first cuz it’s a very cool well made entertaining show that I feel is a good entry point. But like. I enjoy a lot of the different versions, and showing them to ppl!) And I want more ppl! To care about and be obsessed w these hot sexy awesome giant robots!!! They’ve literally informed so much of my interests ghgh- and actually, I went back and checked my deviantart. And I don’t have a lot of my old transformers art on this blog. Cuz I had an old one I accidentally deleted before this one. But I’ve actually drawn MORE transformers art than I have scp art… apparently. I mean they might be evened out considering I haven’t rlly made many transformers videos like I have for scp. But still! Yeah.. transformers was and still is my favorite shit ever. I don’t draw a lot of stuff for it but it is always in my heart.

[kradogsrats]

So to kind of summarize what I had written:

The snake (or dragon, since dragons were imagined as a lot more snake-like back in the day) biting its own tail symbolizes eternity or immortality as a cycle of renewal. Even on their own, snakes sometimes held a lot of that symbolism—the snake regularly sheds its skin, which is interpreted as being born anew or even a purification of the soul through shedding sin.

I assume the number one reason TDP only ever alludes to the ouroboros and never directly uses it visually, is that as soon as you do that, you'll never escape the shadow of Fullmetal Alchemist. The ouroboros is actually linked with alchemy historically, in the same context of representing a cycle of renewal or purification—a critical part of the objective of alchemy, the "great work." At heart, it's a process of repeated purification for both the material ingredients and the alchemist's soul. Each cycle permanently destroys what was there before—you can never get it back in the same form—but there is something in its place that is both the same and new.

This can all be somewhat difficult to grasp, because the ouroboros's origins are in ancient cultures with very different understandings from the modern West about fundamental things like... the nature of time. Even now, in real life, cultural conceptions of linear vs. flexible or cyclical time clash so deeply that there are entire university courses dedicated to teaching Business(tm) people how to handle the difference so they can Business(tm) more smoothly with Asia and the Middle East. It affects behavior and perceptions of things to a truly ridiculous level—things you'd never even consider that someone else might be interpreting differently.

Even more strange is that our concept of progress is actually from like... the Enlightenment, which as history goes is very recent, but we got real weird about it during industrialization and basically never recovered. Progress is always forward or up. If you're going somewhere (figuratively or literally) and find yourself back where you started, that's pretty universally bad. "Going in circles" means you're not making progress—in which case your time, which you will never get back, is being wasted.

To kind of reframe that, you sometimes see graphics like this:

Kind of trite, but a decent illustration of how a perspective shift can reinterpret cyclical movement as "progress"... but that perspective shift involves literally ascending to a higher spatial dimension. (Did anyone else have to read Flatland in school? Just me?) Even then, we have to do that because we can only understand progress as linear. We see cycles as static, because they lack that linear dimension.

Anyway, all of that gives us a fairly negative reaction to the idea of cyclic eternity or immortality, and then when you add in our deeply ingrained Christian-influenced cultural perception of snakes as bad, the ouroboros becomes a largely sinister symbol in a way that it never was originally. That isn't really an issue here, since TDP is a story created within the same cultural framework—it's not like there's an important point being missed when shit turns into snakes and we're like "yikes, that's ominous."

Hopefully, though, this explains somewhat how/why immortality could be linked with rituals involving consumption/destruction of the self, rather than others.

boy do I have REGRETS now about deleting the 500-odd words I wrote about the ouroboros for that dark magic symbol post that I decided was "irrelevant" and "no one cares"

anyway for anyone wondering why "self-eating" would lead to immortality: THAT

[heretodefyfate]

gosh, seeing people happily discussing about their OCs make me want to show my OCs too but then i realized i still have not make any "official" art of them and their background details are still being worked on

[triglycercule]

more swapinverse posting i think its funny how even in swapinverse the mtt STILL dont eat food. someone could be like "hey what's your favorite food" and paranoia just turns away trying to hold back bile. savior would just say he has no need and then mania would just blink and say he hasnt eaten in years (but it's supposed to be ketchup or something right??? right!!!)

still cursed to live terrible lives even in another universe 💔💔💔

[wellhalesbells]

LIAR YOU TOTALLY WATCHED ONE SEQUEL!!! 😉💜

https://www.tumblr.com/wellhalesbells/736050291745652736/friendraichu-jackironsides

HAHAHAHA, I should clarify that I just mean for super hero-y ones. I mostly watch the first one and rarely watch the second (or anything after...... or remakes, lol), I think the only Marvel one I've seen in recent history is Thor: Ragnarok. Actually, the Spider-man franchise pretty much encapsulates how I interact with Marvel properties: I saw the first trilogy because it was new and exciting at the time, then they remade it too fast and I refused to pay for something I just saw, that was so recent in my memory from the release date I could still remember exact scenes from it (THERE WERE ONLY FIVE YEARS BETWEEN SPIDER-MAN 3 AND THE REBOOT - THAT IS NOT ENOUGH TIME FOR ME TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THAT AGAIN. HOW IS THAT ENOUGH TIME FOR ANYONE TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THAT AGAIN???), then I watched the first Tom Holland one (fourteen years I can vibe with) and nothing that followed because that's generally when the gimmicks and cameos start in lieu of good story-telling, or they make it dark and gritty because that's the only way to ground this superhuman, right (I assume a random white guy: "Should we fridge a lady? Yeah, we should probably fridge a lady"). The first one generally at least tries to have a soul because they have to introduce the character and make you care about them but many of the ones that follow (the few I've seen from when the MCU was just starting out and I had hope *coughs*Iron Man 2, Thor 2, etc.*coughs*) are just cash grabs that don't try because you already love this character and there they are, right there, so money please!

Meg 2 however..... EPIC, NO NOTES. It knows if I was a shark girl, I was probably a dinosaur girl and it gambled correctly. That's what you're watching this for? Have three sharks and an unnecessary (probably stupid expensive) dinosaur intro that is nearly completely irrelevant to the story but that you will also not want to live without and for an extra special bonus: oblivious husbands and their brilliant daughter. Like. You got me nailed, my dude. Will watch every subsequent sequel, no questions asked.

[iowafashionweekbegins]

im not a christian anymore (im a unitarian universalist agnostic + possibly solipsist) but im absolutely a fan of jesus as a Guy and like the stories about him, the same way i was interested in greek mythology + historical figures as a child. and like. growing up with those stories and studying them extensively, i guess i just formed an emotional attachment to jesus as a person? i abandoned everything else because of the abuse and manipulation that i faced but, something about the story of jesus still draws me in and i feel a lot of intense emotions about it. i know it seems weird to people who didnt experience what i did as a child but yeah. it's also nice to see a more down-to-earth and accurate depiction of what he might have actually been like, as opposed to the depictions of him being pale white with shiny straight hair and silky robes. i dont know i just think hes neat