#...unfortunately real-life is not a fairy tale

[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!"

.

.

.

.

.

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.

[freepassbound]

🙄, 📚, and 💻 for the ask game please <3

🙄 What character from a movie/tv show/book etc. do you think was most like teenage you?

Shrek. Absolutely, Shrek.

📚 What were your favorite books growing up?

Well... I mean... it was the same as today - Star Trek books.

💻 What type of Youtube content do you enjoy the most?

Uh, mostly I watch soccer videos. 😅

Analysis and gaming, though (sometimes highlights).

Otherwise, I just listen to music.

[hanzajesthanza]

"the michael kandel translation of "the witcher" short story can't hurt you!!"

the michael kandel translation of "the witcher" short story:

[lilacgaby]

title: fairy tale

✩pairing: dragonking!katsuki bakugo x tinkerbell!fem reader

lover or best friend? you two couldn't help but to blur the lines.

summary: katsuki's life had been flipped onto its head, who knew some pixie dust was all he needed?

princes weren't to be excluded from the rest of the village kids.

that's how his parents ruled, they believed that a humble king would be a good king, and that to teach humility would be ensuring the prosperity of their kingdom for generations to come.

unfortunately it didn't really stick with katsuki, who had all the village kid praising him as early as age five. everyone would congratulate him on being so cool, so strong, so smart, such a prince.

until izuku was found to have the king of another kingdom's blood running through him.

being lied to was something katsuki hated even at that young age of seven. he hated not heing in the know, and to have his rival, who he'd race in sport, in magic practice, even at lunch lie to him? to have him in reality be his equal?

it was too much, so he escaped to the hidden area of the royal gardens he'd stumbled upon once.

he let the tears fall freely there, his head in his knees as he rocked back and forth. the rushing of water the only noise he heard accompanied by his crying.

he felt the feeling of something landing on his knee, instinctually he jumped and moved to swat it, making the 'thing' hang to his leg.

he heard the noise of a bell ringing and when he looked down he saw..

a fairy. a real life fairy? he must've been dreaming. they weren't real, just a tale told of time. but as you were there, dandelion-sized and pouting at him, hands stuck your sides as you looked at him adorably,

he knew you were real.

he kept hearing the sound of jingles come from your mouth. from his expression, he saw that something suddenly clicked in your head. you mouthed, "oh.. duh!" and smacked your forehead before sprinkling some glittery thing all over you, and moving to sprinkle it onto him as well.

he felt like he was floating, because he was. "agh! woah!" he exclaimed, moving about only a couple inches of the ground.

"can you hear me now crying boy?" he heard the fairy say, no malice behind their words.

"i-i can hear you." he said, before letting out a surprised "umpf" at the sensation of being dropped back onto the ground.

you landed back on his knee, but this time he noticed a somber expression on your small face as well.

"u-uh. what's wrong fairy.. girl?"

"it's [name].. and.. i lost my hollow. i think they had to leave without me." you said dejectedly, hiccuping slightly between your words.

"so, can i stay with you crying boy?"

he wiped the last of his tears off his face, before scopping you up in his hands. "it's not crying boy, it's katsuki. and yeah, i'll take care of you."

at the news, you did a happy spin in the palm of his hand. "thank you cr- katsuki!"

he carried you around in his pockets all day. he'd poke holes in his expensive cloths just so you could see what he was doing and talk to him. he had shown you to izuku on accident once, him catching katsuki in the act of feeding you maple syrup from his morning breakfast.

as you spoke, even though katsuki could hear the actual words.. "kacchan, does your doll have a bell in it?" nobody else could hear you.

"it's not a doll, get out deku!"

you grew up alongside katsuki, always on his shoulder or his hand, staying close to him because he felt like home personified to you.

and for him, you were his rock. to think someone as small and fragile as you held his deepest secrets, wants, desires, nightmares and all was funny, but he loved you despite it.

for your birthdays he'd get you a new fresh flower to make a dress out of, and for his birthday you'd make him a map with all the best treasure troves you remembered on it.

at night, he'd made you a tiny makeshift bed that he'd lay close to his pillow, the small snores and yawns you'd make in your sleep becoming his lullaby.

the first crowning trial he went on with you. you two were walking-- well you were laid on his shoulder, and he was ranting about how annoying everyone was and how easy this was going to be. "that damn deku loves mocking me, can you believe he sent a letter asking to go on this trail together?"

"are you sure he wasn't just trying to be nice?"

"nice? you don't know the first thing about humans name, he wrote a smiley face at the end of the letter- a smiley face!"

"isn't that a nice thing to do?"

"between friends yeah, but rivals like us? that's like putting a coal down my back."

"oh." you pondered out loud, looking at the sky thoughtfully.

"besides, who needs his help when i have you. all we have to do is find that shitty egg, hatch it, and bring that dragon back. easy as pie."

"but we don't know how to hatch it! nobodies hatched one of those eggs for years! weren't you listening??" you said, now jumping down to fly in front of his face.

"yeah, yeah, but those past guys were me, and they didn't have an awesome fairy like i do." he remarked, stopping to let you lay in his hand.

"damn straight!" you high fived with his pinkie as you continued the journey.

the journey was about a month to get to the mountains, at night you two would have campfires, in day you'd continue moving west while he simultaneously looked for small food for you and charred random boars for him.

he'd managed to find a pixie tree one day, you were so excited as you dragged him to the pool of it, covering him in the dust as he flew with you for he first time. he stayed up there with you for a surprisingly long time, the scared expression on his face as he moved off the ground with you grabbing him by the finger was so funny to you. your laughs reached his ears and made his face scrunch up in annoyance.

with you pulling him around, you covered a lot of ground that day, the signs of the fairy dust running out made you set him on the ground, his legs still wobbly from the experience.

"that was.. weird."

"not fun? you're so boring katsuki!"

"where's my coat??"

"...

i'll go get it.."

the rest of the journey was easy.. if katsuki ignored the hawk that just snatched you out of the sky at the base of the mountain.

you screamed, preparing yourself for your fate as.. the hawk was burnt to a crisp in the sky, falling to the floor with you still in its talons.

"katsuki! you saved me."

"yeah, couldn't have them taking you. you're staying in here from now on." he placed you on his shoulder, tucking one of your legs under his necklace.

"right." you said saluting.

he treked up the mountain, it was tall so the air was getting thin as you two went up. he saw the cavern across the way, they finally had made it.

"let's go." he said, as if you had a choice while being on his shoulder. he walked in, greeted by the site of a dragon's skeleton, and a single, humongous gold egg.

the egg had to have been.. at least bakugo's height. when katsuki used a bit of his fire he saw the dragon inside. since it's been there since the last kings reign..

it had to be 18 too? no wonder it was huge.

"that's a big dragon, how're ya gonna hatch it?" you asked, flying on top of it.

"pfft, i'll figure it out. maybe those assholes before me weren't smart or strong enough."

"right.. well go ahead."

- - -

he tried until the sun went down.

nothing worked. hell he even tried asking it nicely, all to have you laugh when it didn't work. "fuck this and damn you, you damn.. fairy!"

in his anger he threw his coat, which sent the small satchel of your fairy dust flying onto the egg. in panic, katsuki jumped to keep it on the floor.

"what the--" is all he said before the egg started to crack. no. it was hatching?

you flew over observing the situation, katsuki jumped back when a particularly large piece of egg cracked off, and the dragon inside started to move.

"ack!" she flew behind katsuki's head as the dragon jumped out with a confused, "huh?"

...

"i did it! im the king now! hey dragon! you're coming with me!" katsuki said victoriously, in his own little happy world as you flew over to the dragon.

"hi dragon guy, im [name]."

"you're small."

"duh im a fairy, anyways what's your name?"

"oh.. i think it was eijiro kirishima."

she pulled his finger, leading him out the remnants of his shell. "you wanna come with us eijiro? you'll get to be a dragon knight i think."

"cool! i'm in!...

what's a knight though?"

she smacked her head, "ah, i'll explain it later. put these on and let's go kat--" the sight of katsuki sleeping on the floor made her realize how tired he was.

"uh, let's stay here for the night actually, i'll catch you up on all the cool stuff about the world."

"okay!"

you talked all night to the curious dragon, explaining the ins and outs of his future life, your role in katsuki's life, and about your adventures that you'd surely go on.

"hey [name]."

"yes?"

"uh, so kings they have queens right? who's katsuki's queen? is it you?"

you jumped. "ah! no way. he'll.. he'll probably get one when he goes back though." you said, realization setting in as you spoke.

"you don't sound very happy [name]."

with a tight-lipped smile as you rested your head on your hand, you whispered, "i'm not happy at all, actually."

you two went to sleep after that, you suddenly felt tired for some reason. though you know you shouldn't have felt so possessive over katsuki anyways.

you'd developed a crush over him for forever. but you'd have to see him go, see him leave with another.

your fists clenched the leaf covering you,

you couldn't stand it.

the journey started out livelier than normal for katsuki. he'd been listening to the damn dragon's rambling for half a day now, at least he was a natural born hunter. he noticed you being a bit more quiet than usual, he thought you were taking a nap on his shoulder but you were awake, staring between your two legs.

"hey, [name]. what's up with you?"

"yeah [name]! you're so quiet."

you snapped out of your daze, a polite smile on your lips. "ah! it's nothing, just uh-- hungry i guess. and tired, i don't have any dust left."

"well you should've said that earlier. we can get some tomorrow morning." he knew you were lying, but he didn't want to press you with the dragon around. he'd ask you when you two got back to the castle.

the rest of the month passed by like that. he had grown fond of the new dragon that'd serve to be his personal knight, he was dedicated, strong, but just so talkative.

you were spaced out often, waving off his concerns with a limp hand. hiding in his cape as they entered the kingdom.

they were greeted with celebrations all round, it seems news had traveled quickly of the dragon. back pats and smiles were all that greeted bakugo as he walked up to his parents.

with a tearful gaze, his father placed the crown upon his head. "you are now king katsuki. your official coronation is tomorrow but.. we wanted to do this with you personally."

"you finally did some good kid, now comes the hard part. you'll need to pick a wife tomorrow."

the air was zapped out of his and your lungs. "hell no, i'm not choosing shi--"

"yes you are, or you can hand that crown over right now. we're having inko get some of the towns most gorgeous women and some eligible princesses are coming to visit. you will choose someone by the end of the night. congratulations son, you're a king now."

he tsked. "whatever. let's go dragon face." as kirishima followed him out, he led him to a room connected to his. "this is your room, i'll get you tomorrow morning. go to sleep."

"yes sir! wow he's so manly." he said before walking inside and verbally gasping at the room.

"you, come out already. " he said, pulling his cape off and laying it on his bed. you were teary eyed as you sat cross legged. "what's up with you? you've been weird this whole trip?"

"it's nothing."

"it's not nothing, you've been ignoring me and i'm pissed off already. tell the truth already."

your feelings were about to burst, your tears already free falling down your face. "be quiet." you whispered.

"no i don't think i will, because you'll just keep sitting here and ignoring me!"

"i love you! and i shouldn't because it'd never work!" she cried. a moment of silence passes. "i-im leaving."

"to where? hey- where are you going?"

"i don't know."

she flew, the only sight he had of her being her moonlit wings as she disappeared out of his sight.

he couldn't believe it.

he couldn't believe his feelings were reciprocated. he fell asleep to the thoughts of you, and he woke up still preoccupied.

as they prepared him for the ceremony, dousing him in jewels and diamonds, all he could think about was you.

as he walked to his throne where he'd sit until he found a bride, all he thought off was you.

and as they placed the crown on his head, all he thought of was how he'd never be here without your help.

as he stood around in a corner, princesses and village women occasionally attempting to start up conversations with him only to be let down by his cold nature, he thought about if you'd show up.

you'd been by his side for 18 years, he swore it was your birthday today too. he had picked out a flower perfect for you, just like he always did.

but now he wouldn't even get to see you, he thought, fist tightening on his slacks. eijiro had knocked on his shoulder, asking him to go out with him to the gardens for a second. he agreed and walked over.. where.. you were standing there.

only now you were human-sized, an angelically white dress encapsulated you as you stood by the waterfall. your wings were big and shiny as you finally noticed him, smiling.

"katsuki. you look- pfft. handsome." you joked. oh yeah, his hair was slicked down. he walked over to you, taking your hand into his for the first time.

"[name]? it's really you?"

"mhm, cmon." she led him to the secret garden where they'd first met.

"how--"

"i could always turn myself this big, it just takes a bit."

"..about what you said earlier. i..

i love you too [name]." katsuki said, averting his eyes from you but holding your hand tightly. "as a small fairy or as an equal to me.. i-- i really do care about you. i never could've done this without you.

so, uh.."

"just kiss me."

and he did so, the flowers being witness to both of your first kisses.

he felt like he was on cloud nine, never imagining this day would have ended so joyfully, with you by his side.

and with you now officially ruling next to his.

(tagging people i think would enjoy this very much: @kovu-bunnbunn @napbatata @elarakive )

[daycourtofficial]

How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 3.2k | warnings: depictions of violence

Summary: Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and mentions events that are detailed in ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’. This is also anplay on the ‘retellings’ prompt for today - thought it’d be fun to have Eris sanitize how Beron died as a fairytale story @erisweekofficial

“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” - G.K. Chesterton

The sound of wood clashing rang through the room before being immediately followed by a trio of giggles. Eris stood outside the door, arms crossed debating what to do, listening as the children inside pretended to be knights defeating an evil king. Or was it a dragon they were fighting and they were Peregryn warriors? It was impossible to keep track of Atlas, Nyx, and Leif’s antics. Their interests changed so quickly, it was impossible to keep track of what was the thing to be during their playtimes.

Their games of make believe often took elements of Eris’s life and formed a hodgepodge of stories where most of the time they are brave warriors seeking to defend their lands.

The boys enjoyed it. Eris’s back didn’t whenever he was deemed the bad guy, their small swords leaving bruises that seemed to last for a week.

Early fights between the boys had led to many tears - they all wanted to be the hero, the good guy. They did not know the males their fathers had been before, the males who had done unspeakable things to survive.

Before he could make the decision himself, Leif had made it for him by appearing in the door way and holding onto Eris’s trouser leg. Eris ran his fingers through Leif’s red locks, forcing his son to look up at him.

Leif was incredibly sensitive - an empath like his mother, Leif often became overwhelmed incredibly quickly. Fat tears would begin rolling down his cheeks before anyone could realize what went wrong. Nyx and Atlas, both a few years older than Leif, often became too rambunctious for the smallest Vanserra.

But Leif’s eyes were bright and full of joy, not a hint of upset on his small face.

You and the Archerons had gone to spend the evening in a cabin a few miles away. You weren’t far from the Forest House or from Eris’s mind, but you insisted you needed a weekend before this next babe came to be yourself. Three kids under five was going to be a lot and the two of you wanted to soak up every moment possible before having a newborn again.

Unfortunately, Leif took the separation from his mother much harder than Atlas did, but seemed to be doing surprisingly well. Eris crouched down, getting down to Leif’s level to ask, “are you alright?”

The small boy nodded before a yawn escaped his mouth, betraying his real feelings.

“Are you tired?”

Leif’s nod at that question was more pitiful, as if a full nod were too taxing for the small boy. Eris opened his arms, allowing Leif to wrap his arms around Eris’s neck before he stood back up, walking into the playroom, finding it impossible to find the floor from the toys scattered across it. He got peeks at the green rug beneath, but various plushies and toy armor littered the floor hiding it.

Eris whistled, the two whirlwinds slowing down enough to take form as small boys, their swords going lax at their sides.

“Is this a playroom or a graveyard for lost toys for all of Prythian?”

The two looked to each other as they fell into a mess of giggles, the cousins looking completely unrelated. Atlas so far had inherited no features from his mother, the little boy pale and freckly much like his father, his cheeks often pink from how hot he ran.

Nyx on the other hand was quite tan, a byproduct of the time he spent in the sun this summer. His small wings fluttered in excitement, not quite strong enough to launch him from the ground but enough to produce a decent wind.

Eris had gotten all three of them washed up an hour ago, allowing them to work out the last of their energy in the playroom where he knew they wouldn’t get dirty again. He figured Lucien had crept off to his own rooms to change, his clothes dripping with water after Atlas snuck his hound, Pumpkin, into their bath and Lucien had to chase down the wet beast.

Eris was so amused at the sight he didn’t tell his brother he could simply call for the dog, instead letting him slip and slide across the floors in an attempt to get to him.

The boys stood in their pajamas, all looking up at Eris. He moved his head toward the door, motioning for Atlas and Nyx to follow him.

“Come on. Time for bed.”

The two small boys groaned, but Leif merely nuzzled into Eris’s neck as he carried him into the room down the hall.

Despite the size of the Forest House, Atlas and Leif did much better when sharing a room. The two had been kept separate when Leif was born, until Leif was around eight months old and Atlas woke up just about every night and dragged Leif into his bedroom.

Most mornings Eris found Leif in Pumpkin’s dog bed in the corner of Atlas’s room, curled up with his older brother, Pumpkin sleeping peacefully on his son’s bed.

The first morning it happened caused Eris to spiral. Finding Leif’s crib empty sent him on a hunt throughout the house, waking up everybody in the process until he went to check on Atlas, finding the small babe in his brother’s arms.

It has been several years and the boys fight on occasion, but overall are quite happy to share a room. For tonight they get to have Nyx share their room too.

To prepare for their cousin, the boys grabbed their mattresses, pushing them together on the floor and putting pillows and blankets all over the floor so all three of them could lay together.

Nyx’s wings were still quite small - not big enough to support his weight, they barely stuck out around his shoulders. The sight of Nyx’s wings still sent a twinge of guilt through Eris.

It had been centuries since your wings were taken from you, but Eris still remembers the venom he had spat at you right before you lost them and how incredibly small you looked when Tamlin had showed up with you, your back a bloody mess.

You had made peace with it long ago, but every so often whenever he finds himself with an Illyrian nearby, he wishes you could have those wings back, even if for just a moment. To watch you glide in the air, the winds of Autumn that had pushed him so far holding you up.

Eris lit the candles in the room, dusk casting the room in darkness. Leif’s fingers gripped his collar tighter as he crouched down, failing to put him on the floor.

“Can you tell us a story?”

Atlas perked up at Leif’s sleepy voice, practically vibrating in excitement. “The one with the dragon, please daddy?”

Atlas clutched his hands together in pleading, bouncing up as Eris agreed. He knew what Leif’s question was for - the small boy didn’t want to be set down yet, too content in his father’s arms to be left alone. If only Beron were alive to watch him cave to the demands of toddlers - his heart would stop beating in anger.

Eris stood back up, all attempts of removing Leif forgotten as he moved to the rocking chair in the corner, sitting with Leif curled up to his chest just like he had done hundreds of times before. Atlas and Nyx followed, sitting right in front of Eris on the mattresses that lay across the floor. He rocked for a moment - both to gather his bearings, deciding where to start the story, and because the anticipation killed the little boys before him.

“A long, long time ago, there once lived a knight.”

“What’s his name?”

Atlas was quick to shush his cousin, annoyed at his interruption no matter how many times he had heard the story. Leif began tapping on Eris’s chest, wanting him to keep talking, the sound of his voice soothing.

“We’ll just call him the knight. The knight lived a long time ago in a kingdom that doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Why not?”

Eris had no idea where Nyx’s inquisitive nature came from - his father certainly didn’t look too hard at the world outside of his dim perspective. The boy probably spent too much time with Azriel - anytime the spymaster was seen by either of his kids, they both ran rampant with questions of “why” and “how”, partly because Azriel would answer every single one of their questions, and because in their presence, he would also ask why and how and who questions.

“You’ll find out.”

Nyx opened his mouth, but Atlas moved his hand over his cousin’s mouth. “Stop.”

Eris continued with his story. “The knight lived in a land ruled by an evil dragon. He breathed fire at anyone who dared try to overthrow him.”

Nyx’s eyes grew large, excitement filling them as Eris pretended to breathe out fire.

“He was a big, nasty beast. His fangs are the size of a door. He had big red scales that covered his entire body, shielding him.”

Maybe he began embellishing these stories a bit.

“The handsome knight-”

“When’d he become handsome?”

Atlas slapped his hand onto his forehead in aggravation and Eris had to bite his tongue from laughing. The little boy hardly ever stopped talking and to watch his frustrations at his cousin doing the same was very amusing.

“He was always handsome.”

Eris had slowly been telling Atlas and Leif stories of his life in a much more palatable manner. Replacing their grandfather with a dragon, making Amarantha a dragon, making Rhys an evil king who hated him. He’d never admit it to anyone, but it was quite fun.

In one story he made Lucien a donkey just because it amused him. Lucien had been less than thrilled at his fictional depictions, even going so far as to try to tell his own stories to the boys. They didn’t like Lucien’s storytelling, so much so they begged him not to tell any stories.

“The incredibly good looking knight decided he needed to make a plan to kill the dragon,” giggles accompanied his words. “The knight had one issue: he was in love with a princess from a different kingdom.”

Leif gasped as if this were a new story to him - he enjoyed all aspects of Eris’s stories, but Leif was always happiest to hear about the princess. Whether or not Leif knew the princess was his mother, Eris wasn’t sure.

“And her king wouldn’t let her live in the kingdom of the dragon.”

“Why not?”

“Because dragons love the taste of princesses!” Nyx shrieked a little, and for good measure he added, “and the taste of little boys.”

Eris enjoyed riling his brothers up when they were young - one of the traits the centuries haven’t worn down. Once they both stopped screaming, Eris continued his story.

“So, the knight began planning with the other knights of the kingdom. They spent months making a plan to get rid of the dragon. He was killing their crops, even eating some of the people, and hoarding all of the kingdom’s gold. No one had any money or food. They devised a plan and set a date to take down the dragon. On the night before, the knight slipped away to see his princess one last time, to catch a glimpse of her before going to battle.

“She was as beautiful as he remembered, their last meeting was months ago and he thought of it often. Her king didn’t approve of their relationship, but they met secretly without him knowing. She invited him up into her chambers, where he told her the plans for the next day. He wanted to say goodbye, wanted to see her one last time. He gave her a kiss farewell-” giggles filled the room. “And then the knight left once more. It was the hardest thing for him to do.”

“What was?”

“Saying goodbye to his princess.”

The boys were enraptured in the story, paying close attention to every word from Eris.

“Why?”

Atlas didn’t admonish Nyx for his question, wanting to know the answer himself.

“Because he loved her very much.”

He rubbed Leif’s back softly, rocking the chair gently as he continued.

“The knight left the princess’s tower, heading to find a secret weapon.” Nyx’s wings fluttered, the wind brushing over Eris and Leif. “He walked through the kingdom to find a special, magical sword. It had been hidden centuries before, waiting for the rightful person to come find it.”

Atlas pretended to wave a sword in his hand, making sounds that somewhat resembles clashing as he and Nyx pretended to be fighting with swords.

“The knight rode in on his horse, meeting the other knights as they rode in and fought the dragon head on.”

“Did the horses fight?”

“No, they stayed far away as the knights used their swords to pierce and stab the dragon over and over again, but he remained unharmed.”

Atlas and Nyx began acting out the story, Atlas grabbing a pillow and pretending it was the dragon.

“The dragon paid special attention to our knight, his teeth sharp as he kept scratching and biting the knight. He was injured, but he kept fighting on with his magical sword. The dragon hit him with his tail, causing the sword to go flying through the air.”

Eris’s voice rose and fell with the story, his words glossing over the atrocities of the day. He could not figure out a nice way to add in how their mother poisoned at minimum twenty-five of Beron’s closest advisors.

Their mouths were wide open now, desperate to know how the tale ends, Nyx allowing his inquisitive nature to take a backseat to Eris’s storytelling.

“The knight thought it would be over as the dragon snarled at him, opening his mouth so the knight could see his big, nasty teeth. He could even see some of the spinach he had eaten for dinner.”

The boys erupted in giggles, softs echoes of “ewwwww” littered the room.

“The knight had accepted his fate. He knew it was over, and all he could think about was how grateful he was he got to see his princess one last time. He had closed his eyes, preparing to die, but the dragon stopped breathing his nasty breath in the knight’s face.

“The dragon had turned, only to find one of the other knights, Sir Flint, had come from behind. He had picked up the magical sword and slashed the dragon’s neck!”

Tiny gasps came from his audience, but he continued to his favorite part of the story.

“Blood poured out of the dragon as he fell, his big body making a big thunk as he fell. Some say it even caused an earthquake because he was so heavy.”

Eris couldn’t tell them about the extent of Flint’s sacrifice - not yet anyway. But he would make sure they knew his name, even if he were merely a fairytale hero.

“Once the dragon was slain, the knight removed his armor to show that he was secretly a prince the whole time!”

The boys screeched in excitement, jumping up and searching for their swords to start fighting again, disappointed to remember they were left in the playroom. Once they settled back down, Eris continued.

“The other knights gave the prince a crown, making him king of the kingdom. His first act was to go find his princess and bring her to his kingdom, making her the queen.

“The end. Now, I think it’s time for bed.”

The boys groaned in protest, but complied. Grabbing their blankets and settling onto the beds all over the floor. Atlas and Nyx nestled in, hiding themselves amongst the blankets and pillows. Eris stood, Leif’s body having grown heavy with sleep, his steps careful to navigate the various pillows, trying to find a spot for his son.

Leif groaned at the stirring, but Eris was quick to hum softly, soothing something in Leif.

“What happened to the prince?” Nyx’s wings fluttered with anticipation, the blankets moving with his joy, wanting to know what happened to such a brave male.

Eris leaned in conspiratorially, the boys leaning into him as if he were going to tell them a secret.

“His kingdom is long gone, but he’s still alive. He wanders the lands of Prythian. He was last seen in Winter a few years ago. They say he hunts for little boys who stay up past their bedtimes.”

Their small shrieks made Eris want to laugh, but he kept a straight face despite himself. He looked to Leif, his youngest son much more susceptible to these tall tales, only to find him asleep once more. His eyes were closed, his round cheeks pressed into his chest making the freckles on his face scrunch together.

Atlas and Nyx had quickly thrown the blankets over themselves, their voices quiet telling the other to stop talking. He was able to find a spot for Leif next to Atlas, gently moving his head to a new pillow, draping a blanket over him.

“Good night.”

They echoed his sentiment, their voices muffled through the fabric of their blankets. Eris shut the door behind himself, listening to the two cousins bicker back and forth, their voices getting quieter as the dark lulled them to sleep. He started walking down the hallway, only to find Lucien walking his way. His brother changed his stride to walk with Eris, following him through the halls.

Eris and Lucien had agreed to keep the kids for the first night you were gone, and Rhysand would pick them up in the morning and keep them all day and night. His brother in law had been incredibly confident he could handle the three boys on his own, perhaps from some well-placed snark from Eris at how his one child was much different from two, let alone a third.

Eris didn’t have to manipulate people anymore, he could live as he wished to, showing whatever image of himself he wanted. But he’d be damned if he ever stopped tricking the High Lord of the Night Court for his own amusement.

“I was thinking about tomorrow.”

Eris hummed as Lucien spoke, the two moving toward Eris’s sitting room, both in desperate need of alcohol and to not have someone clinging to them.

“I heard from Nesta that Rhys was so smug he could handle the three boys by himself that Azriel and Cassian are going to some sporting event.”

“Hm, wonder where he’d get such ridiculous notions of himself, as if he had something to prove.”

Lucien’s laugh was barking, but he continued. “I think we should give the kids a bunch of sugar before they go to Night. It’ll drive Rhysand up a wall. He may never want to see your kids again, though.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Thanks for reading❣️

[artsy-waffle19]

I think the reason why the fandom is so divided about what to think of the cat king is because this character fits into very different concepts depending on how you chose to vibe check him.

so if we decide to vibe check him by supernatural/fairytale standards he's a typical trickster with a goal who pulls of a bunch of smart tricks in order to achieve them. He also follows a very stict code of "an eye for an eye", most of the time throwing a characters own actions right back at them in an unpleasant way. In fairytales and folktales the whole deal with "the king saw them and immediately fell madly in love, demanding their hand in marriage" is a pretty common occurence so that fits that too. The task he gives Edwin is also very fairy tale like as it's a task that sounds impossible but the hero manages to outwit him and beat him, which earns them his respect even though he might temporarily consider going back on his deal. So if we vibe check this character he's just a morally neutral character that unfortunately functions as an inconvenience in the heros main story.

however why a lot of people have issues with him is because it's also a very valid approach to vibe check him by real life standards which does make him a predator. (Let's be real if our friends irl were in this exact situation Edwin is in, we'd get out the cricket bats ourselves while telling them to stay as far away as possible from that person and better yet get a restraining order on that guy). Instead of "trickster who tells the hero to solve a riddle and asks his subjects to keep him posted about what the hero is doing" we get "guy who won't accept a no as an answer and keeps stalking somebody who already rejected him", just like instead of "morally neutral character goes by 'an eye for an eye' does things that might be uncomfortable for the protagonists but are technically fair" we'd just see "petty guy who keeps throwing a tantrum about random stuff but won't behave any better". So it really depends on wether we go by folktale morals or real life morals, which both offer very plausible interpretations of the character. And this is intended as the show repeatedly shows us this supernatural world but then the villains are always normal people doing very bad, very real things to their victims. Devlin is just a guy who is obsessed with control. He's not a supernatural being or posessed or anything, he's just a bad person. So are Edwins and Charles' bullies, Charles' father, Brad and Hunter and David as he is a demon but it's not his being a demon but his abusive behaviour that traumatised Crystal. So the show actually makes us view it through that real life lens and vibe check all of the characters by our real life standards, according to which the Cat King is moving in a really dark gray area, while also being set in the supernatural world with entirely different standards, that we are also aware of.

So yes: The Cat King is a fun and interesting trickster character, who influences the character development of one of our main characters in a positive way and is otherwise no more than a minor inconvenience with a fun character design and yes: if he were a real person he'd need to get punched in the face, go outside and touch some grass and then get like a decade of therapy. These two things can be true at the same time. That's what makes the character so good.

[tossawary]

I saw a musical recently where the main character was a writer of these fairy-tale-esque gothic romance adventures, so there was a clear-cut Hero and a Villain and a Damsel in Distress and a Wicked Witch character and so on. Very recognizable archetypes. These imaginary characters would come onstage and act out these adventures when the main character was reading her writing aloud to others.

Unfortunately, this musical was ultimately not good for many reasons, one of which being that the stories that the main character wrote had essentially nothing to do with the rest of the story. These overdramatic and cliché adventures didn't really reflect her real life in a deep and meaningful and interesting way, not effectively, and mostly just came off as silly; they seemed to mostly represent the writer character's inexperience and immaturity more than anything else; and I personally thought that the aesthetic frankly gelled weirdly against the setting of the "real life" segments. It was like two completely separate musicals were trying to happen in alternating segments.

But one REALLY cute thing that this show did is make these imaginary fairy tale characters into the stagehands. The Hero and the Villain and the Damsel were the ones who hurried onstage to move furniture around to indicate a change of location. They would briefly test out the furniture or adjust the props to their liking or interact silently with each other in other ways, before scurrying away or shooing each other off the stage again as the "real" characters walked in. I think the Villain character even lingered once to wink at the main character's mean aunt, before getting dragged offstage by the other imaginary story characters.

It was so cute and fun and made scene changes a bright spot in between terrible music and badly paced "real life" plot. Theatre allows for thin lines between "realities", there are lots of great fourth wall interactions in theatre for example, so in-universe imaginary characters as the stagehands for some really fun meta stuff in a different play. I keep thinking of Roderick Townley's "The Great Good Thing" which was read to me back in elementary school, but anything that has in-universe stories being told like "The Princess Bride" film could work. I hope to see more creative scene changes like that in future stageplays that really work with them.

[fictionadventurer]

Top ten fairytale retelling novels/novellas you've read.

I've already answered my top 10, so here's my shot at listing 11-20.

11. A Long, Long Sleep by Anna Sheehan: Would probably be higher on the list if I'd remembered it in time. Sci-fi story that's a very loose retelling of "Sleeping Beauty", but so rich and emotionally devastating.

12. Maid and Minstrel and The Beggar Prince by Kate Stradling: Putting both of her short "King Thrushbeard" retellings in one entry. The first is more of a "Beauty and the Beast" tale that makes both leads decent people caught up in a misunderstanding, but I appreciated how it (probably accidentally) made me see the Christ-imagery inherent in the original. The second gives King Thrushbeard some character flaws and a good arc, and has an excellent explanation for why the princess didn't want to marry any of her suitors.

13. Fairest by Gail Carson Levine: Snow White retelling set in the world of Ella Enchanted, and retains that book's creativity in adapting the fairy tale elements. Has an excellent full-cast audiobook.

14. The Stepsister and the Slipper by Nina Clare: Georgette-Heyer-esque Cinderella retelling. Very rushed ending, and not the kind of romance I'd advise anyone to pursue in real life, but very fun.

15. Soot and Slipper by Kate Stradling: Cinderella retelling with an excellent twist, adorable characters, and a convoluted ending.

16. Before Midnight by Cameron Dokey: Short and basic Cinderella retelling that gets on the list because I have extremely fond autumnal associations with this book.

17. Unseen Beauty by Amity Thompson: A "Beauty and the Beast" retelling from the point-of-view of one of the invisible servants. Since I'd had that idea for years before finding this, I was thrilled to find that this story does a pretty good job with it.

18. Exile by Loren G. Warnemuende: The first book in a trilogy that retells "Maid Maleen". I haven't finished the series yet, so maybe it's unfair to put it on here, but I loved the section of the story that takes place in the tower, so I couldn't leave it off the list.

19. The Seventh Raven by David Elliot: A retelling of "The Seven Ravens" that does a decent job of retelling the fairy tale, but I mostly love it as a very well-structured novel-in-verse that structures each POV character's poems with their own poetic form.

20. The Tales of Ambia by Allison Tebo: Fun, slightly Wodehouse-ish retellings that are a breath of fresh air in the romantasy-dominated world of indie retellings

Honorable Mentions:

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer: Objectively as stories, these should be pretty high up on the list. It had great characters and adapted the fairy tale elements in some amazing ways. But I'm not a fan of a lot of the worldbuilding elements here, so I couldn't bring myself to rank it above some of my beloved, but more-flawed indie retellings.

With Blossoms Gold by Hayden Wand and Sweet Remembrance by Emily Ann Putzke: Both contained in Once: Six Historical Fairy Tale Retellings. The first is "Rapunzel" set in Renaissance Italy with an agoraphobic Rapunzel, and the second is a beautifully devastating retelling of "The Little Match Girl" set during WWII. I haven't read these in a long time, but I remember them both being very good.

Masque by W.R. Gingell: An excellent "Beauty and the Beast" retelling with a very lively Beauty, a Beast who works as a police detective instead of brooding in a castle, and some clever adaptations of the fairy tale elements. Unfortunately, I've decided a couple elements of the magic go beyond what I'm comfortable with, so I couldn't put it on the list, but I had to give it credit.

[notanactressyay]

— ₊⊹ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫 (𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞)

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . Natasha Romanoff x reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . she did. she allowed her feelings and past to take you away from her. now, guilt and confusion consumed her, and when the one chance to make everything right comes, she doesn't think twice before taking it. and you have to love her from afar. from somewhere you don't even know.

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . major character death, the blip, Thanos, cursing, grief, breaking down, no happy ending.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . this is the second and last part to loving you silently. i didn't think i'd make a part two, but turns out i enjoyed writing angsty things. i'm switching accounts, my pinned explains everything.

fic started: june 23, 2024, 04:30am. | finished: june 23, 2024, 03:01pm.

dividers belong to: @saradika — ₊⊹ ★

the breakup messed up with her mind more than she initially thought it would have. you hadn't used the exact phrase "i am breaking up with you", but the way you said it, "when you become the Natasha i fell in love with again", it was almost the same thing. because she knew there was no way she was ever becoming the same old her.

during the whole 5 years, her mind was slowly being taken by her own pride and guilt, and the only thing keeping her grounded was you. she knew somebody was looking out for her, outside the prison of her brain. she knew that, when she finally manages to find a way and bring everybody back, things would be okay, and then, you'd live happily ever after.

but life unfortunately wasn't a fairy tale. you were a real person. and unlike her, you were way too ordinary to cope with a messed up individual like herself. you didn't learn how to manipulate people's emotions, or how to kill, or how to hide your true self. no one should learn those things anyway, but she did — and felt crazy for it.

and now that you had moved out of the compound to let your relationship breathe, the russian felt crazier than ever.

"stop squirming," Steve whispered as he used the wipe to clean the dry blood from Natasha's hands. "i know it hurts. but no more than breaking the whole kitchen. does it?"

"i lost," she murmurs, gaze fixated on a spot on the floor. clearly she wasn't listening to whatever captain america was saying. "i lost them. i-i lost everything,"

Steve takes a deep breath and throws the dirty wipes on the bin, grabbing the bandages. he scooted his chair closer to where Natasha was sitting, a defeated look on his face.

"i don't know what i am supposed to tell you." he admits, wrapping the bandages carefully around all the cuts and bruises on the spy's hands. "i watched you reject their love and care for you. i watched you pushing them away."

"i'm a lost cause," she murmurs — being cut off by a sob escaping her throat. a loud, pained sob, as the events of the past few days registered on her mind. she was still a human being to prevent a break down from happening. "i-i don't know what to do, Steve,"

his eyes shows concern as he finishes patching her up. he sighs heavily and pulls the woman into his arms, cradling her trembling frame, allowing her to cry. he takes a look around — the microwave, stove, windows, glasses, plates. everything breakable, Natasha had punched. they now despite everything, had a kitchen to reform.

— ₊⊹ ★

the street was empty. there were no cars, or no neighbors. you unfortunately — yes, unfortunately — had been one of the lucky ones who Thanos didn't snap. what was the point of continuing to live if you had no friends, no family, and now, not even your loved one anymore? giving her a time was supposed to feel freeing, but you had nothing to free yourself from. you had nothing other than that.

you kicked the suitcases inside your old house and shut the door close. the silence felt terrifying now. you felt like you could go insane anytime. you sat down by the doorframe and ran your hands through your hair, leaning your head back against the wall with a thud.

the atmosphere was so different from the Avengers Tower. previously, living with a bunch of superheroes was so fun. especially when you weren't one. you loved being in the middle of so many dangerous missions and sobrenatural stuff — little did you know it would become that.

you missed your best friends. the laughter shared with everyone. Tony, Bruce, Thor, Cap, Clint. Yelena and Kate too. Wanda.. and now it was just you. you, the faint blow of the wind. nothing else.

it was an endless nightmare that certainly couldn't get any worse. right?

your watch showed 7pm. you stood up and walked to the balcony, where you could see practically the whole New York, and the glow from the Tower you used to live. the stars were twinkling. your gaze locked on them, as you prayed for anything, anything that could see you, or sense you, to get you out of this.

— ₊⊹ ★

Natasha was back on her office, after making herself a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and tearfully biting on the bread. Tony walked in a few minutes later, holding a sleeping Morgan on his hip.

she raised an eyebrow, not speaking, not wanting to wake the little girl up. Tony sighed, siting on the sofa. he whispered to Natasha, knowing she could hear. "Steve told me about the kitchen. and about you. so i had to come."

the redhead sighed and nodded in acknowledgement, holding her bandaged hands up, chuckling humorlessly. "i'm a hundred percent lost. i don't think i have much time left, honestly."

"shush with that." Tony tsks and shake his head. he holds Morgan closer, watching as Natasha cleared her throat, her heart aching for what Tony had. "we'll figure something out,"

"easy for you to say," she whispers shakily, pointing her head at his daughter in his arms. he knows what she's talking about, but couldn't do much.

they fell in a silence again, before receiving a call on the panel. it had been ages since they received one. Tony frowned, sitting more upright. "is that an old message?"

"is there anyone home? this is Scott Lang. hi, hi! we met a few years ago at the airport? in Germany?! ant-man? i know you know that, i got Captain America here with me,"

"Scott, Scott. calm down. they can see us. wait until they open the gate."

"it's the front gate," Natasha weakly stands up and look at the image of ant-man and captain america, a tiny, tiny flicker of hope showing on her eyes as she thinks of the possibilities for them to be together.

as they allow the other two inside, Tony goes up to let Morgan sleep in one of the dormitories. Scott paces around, muttering to himself. Natasha watched, confused.

"Scott, calm down." Steve says, placing a hand on the man's shoulder to stop him. "let's tell them what happened, easy."

"have either of you guys ever studied quantum physics?" he asks, eyes searching around until they landed on Natasha's sandwiches. "is that anyone's sandwich? god, i'm starving." he rushes to the desk and grabs it, taking a giant bite out of it.

"only to make conversation," Natasha comments, narrowing her eyes.

"alright, so. five years ago, right before... before Thanos, i was in a place called the quantum realm. it is like it's own microscopic universe, you have to be incredibly small to get in there. i got stuck in there, for 5 years.. because.. the person supposed to pull me out was snapped."

"i'm sorry." the russian whispers, clearing her throat. "that must have been long five years."

"except it wasn't. for me, it was 5 hours," Scott continues, making Natasha frown even more. "time works differently there."

Tony seemed to get a finger on what he was talking about. he shook his head and shoved his hands into his jeans' pockets. "so you want us to navigate the quantum realm. you want to create a time machine."

"not a time machine. it's.. it's.. it's crazy, it's.." he mumbles, huffing frustratedly. "yes, a time machine."

"no, absolutely not." Tony says firmly, not having to think twice. "quantum fluctuation messes with the planck scale. which triggers the deutsch proposition. in layman's terms, means you're not coming home."

"Scott did." Steve shrugs, simply.

"no. he accidentally survived." iron man insists. "it's a billion to one cosmic fluke. and now you wanna pull your so called.. 'time heist'?"

"the stones are in the past. if we go back, we can get them," Natasha nods slowly, her expression changing to a more determined one. "we can snap our own fingers. we can bring everybody back."

"or screw it up worse than he already has. right?" Tony chuckles and denies it once more. "no. i'm not doing this."

"Tony." Natasha murmurs. "we have to take a stand."

"we know you got a lot on the line. you got a wife, a daughter. but i lost someone very important to me. all of us did. it's not only you we are talking about here," Steve explains and Natasha flinches at the mention. "there's somebody who i absolutely know will help you, help us,"

the redhead looks down, a bittersweet smile crossing her lips. "they're not really talking to me right now. but if you ask them, Tony. isn't that a shot worth taking?"

"oh. you all mean Natasha's partn—" Scott mumbles, but is interrupted by Steve smacking his shoulder.

Tony seems to think for a while, but eventually, his walls break, as he remembers you. all the times you helped with his projects, how nothing ever failed when you teamed up. yup. to your house he went.

— ₊⊹ ★

"so basically, in Saint Francisco, ant-man suddenly left the quantum realm and Steve found him laying in a bunch of boxes in an abandoned parking lot."

you listened to Tony's explanation wide-eyed, not believing a single word. you smirked somehow. it took a lot to even let him in, you only did it because he had his daughter anyway. and now he was asking for you to suddenly go back to where you left.

"and now, you all want to pair up again and build a time machine and time travel." you ask, but it sounds more like an affirmation.

"you see, they took a while to convince me too." he says, looking into your eyes. Tony wasn't the selfish man he usually was. he was genuinely concerned, and seemed to consider the request.

"because you don't wanna lose her,"

you say quietly, as Morgan snuggles up against you. you were the one who always took care of her when Pepper and him couldn't. she was like a niece for you. a rush of wind causes the girl to shiver and mumble something, but she quickly goes back to sleep. you carefully lean your head down against the girl's.

"... Pepper and i already consulted FRIDAY." Tony gulps, nodding. "it might work. can you believe that? we are actually able to time-travel."

"usually you'd say that's horseshit," you snicker, coaxing a small laugh out of Tony.

"i did say that." he nods, wrapping his arm around you both, allowing your weight to rest on him.

it was good to know you still had a friend, something to take care of. and also, someone needed this to work as much as you did. and you didn't want that person to think you had forgotten about her.

"..fine." you mumble, tucking a strand of hair behind Morgan's ear. "when and how are we doing that?"

— ₊⊹ ★

seemingly, everyone was back. well, the glimpse of who the team was.

Thor had gained a few pounds and hadn't gotten his beard done for ages. Clint, looked like a teenager who liked being emo. Tokyo did something to him. Bruce, had somehow joined himself and the Hulk, and now he was green all the time. a lot changed ever since you saw everybody.

"okay, here we go. time-travel test number one," you say, holding the clipboard where you noted the events. "Scott, fire up the... uh, the van thing."

he opens the back of the van which was being used as the time-travel portal and fires up the engine. Steve sets the emergency generators, as Scott puts the helmet on.

"i'm sending you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds." you explain, taking a step back.

"we got this," Natasha says apprehensively, picking on her nails.

you look at her with your peripheral vision, taking a long, sharp breath, trying to focus on the main task there. bring everybody back, before thinking of your previous relationship.

Scott is send back a week, then. the propellant pulls him inside the portal and in a count of three, you press all the buttons again, and boom. ant-man, perfectly fine.

"time travel!" Bruce-Hulk exclaims. "i knew it would work! you're the best,"

"mhm," you hum, bittersweetly smiling and sighing in relief. "now, it's simple, we just gotta find a way to know where the stones are, travel, come back, and everything is solved."

"good job," Tony throws you a smile. you return it.

"this is how we're doing it," Clint steps in, and everyone looks at him. "we're taking Nebula, Rhodey, Rocket and all the Guardians of the Galaxy. we're gonna need as much as back-up possible. we know the how, now, it's the where, and the when."

"to the meeting room we go," you comment, placing the clipboard down and walking back inside.

— ₊⊹ ★

"almost everyone in this room had an encounter with at least one of the six infinity stones," Steve says, pointing at the images of the stones showing on FRIDAY's pannel.

"i haven't," you whisper, covering your mouth to prevent a chuckle from escaping. "i have no idea what the hell you're all talking about."

"regardless," Bruce sighs. "we only got enough pym-particles for one round-trip each."

"and the stones had been in a lot of different places throughout our history." Natasha finishes, following the path of thought.

the Avengers analyze each stone and recall in which time of their lives they had found each stone, so that they could pick their targets correctly and find them. until Nebula begins talking about the last one. the soul stone. "Thanos found the soul stone in Vormir."

"what's Vormir?" Natasha asks, grabbing her notepad and a pen. the explanation, though, was not something you were expecting.

"a dominion of death." Nebula whispers. "at the very center of celestial existence. it's where.. my sister was murdered. by him."

that word. death. the team sees how it affected both Natasha and you. she shifted uncomfortably on the couch and finished scrabbling on the paper, dropping it on the coffee table in front of her.

"we got a plan." Steve speaks, breaking the awkward silence. "six stones, three teams, one shot."

"am I going?" you ask quietly, looking at everyone who shook their heads at you.

"no, of course not." Natasha was the first to reply. "you're strong, mentally. but you're not a superhero. you're staying here to pull us out as soon as we're back. copy?"

that didn't feel right. and Natasha felt your uneasiness. it broke her so much to know you were still concerned for her. you both weren't in the right places for her to comfort you, so she stayed right where she was.

— ₊⊹ ★

Natasha 'flew' to so called Vormir with one and only objective. making things right. it wasn't true to say she wasn't a little shaken by Nebula's words before. but if it meant dying, to get her family back, get her sister back, and her lover back, she wouldn't hesitate.

it was damn creepy. the sky was a mixture of purples and blues and blacks, mountains covered in snow and long, long cliffs.

"you okay?" Clint places his hand on Nat's back as he sees her expression. she's scared.

"i will be," she whispers, giving him a not-so-convincing smile. "as soon as we accomplish our mission."

the truth was that she was scared of not seeing you again. not seeing your smile for a last time, hearing your voice once more. she had lost everything already, but not you. you stayed. the universe had decided to keep you there with her, that had to mean something. and she was only realizing how much of an idiot she had been right now. the potential last moments she had you by her side, she discarded like they were nothing.

"no time to think back, Natasha." Clint breaks her out of her trance and nudges her shoulder. she gulps nervously and follows him.

the two continue to walk up the mountain, until a strange voice calls out for them. Clint unsheathes his sword and Natasha pulls out her gun.

"Natasha, daughter of Ivan. Clint, son of Edith."

"consider me a guide," the voice continues, "to you, and to all who seek the soul stone."

"good." Natasha comments dryly, aiming at the figure in the black robe. "you tell us where it is, and we'll be on our way."

the figure approaches them, revealing the creature under the black fabric. Red Skull. "what you seek, lies ahead of you."

a glow comes from the end of the cliff, and they both know what it means immediately. they lower their weapons and secure them again.

"in order to get what you want, you need to lose what you love the most. a soul for a soul."

Natasha's eyes lock on the glow coming from down below. those were like two pieces of a puzzle. the sparkle her eyes had lost. it was what she needed to do. she nad nothing to live for. she had already disappointed you, and besides, it would bring your family back — the perfect call. you would be happy again. away from her. freed from her.

"promise me something?" she whispers, taking baby steps towards the edge, and Clint follows. "tell my love i'm sorry."

"Natasha, stop.'' he places his hand on her shoulder and turns her to look at him. he knew that look. determination, pure determination.

"five years. five years and all i did was screw up." she points at herself, voice shaking with raw emotion. "five years and i didn't do a single thing right. i never did, actually, but now its worse."

"Natasha—,"

"promise me." she repeats, desperately grabbing on Clint's suit, squeezing him. "promise me you'll tell them i'm sorry, that i loved them more than anything in the world. that they were the best thing that ever happened to me."

"no, you'll tell them yourself,"

"promise me!" she yells, feeling tears build on her eyes.

Clint stumbles backwards in awe, dumbfounded. what the hell was he going to do? lose Natasha like that? it didn't seem like she was going to back off from this, and if he didn't promise, he'd make her even more disappointed. and it took only a single nod from Clint for Natasha to use her widow's bite and punch him down against the floor, and run towards the end. "i'm sorry. i love you,"

"what the hell?" he mutters and squirms out of the webs, pulling out his hook — he hooks Natasha, and the other end, he hooks on the rock surface. they both hang out of the cliff. "you're a pain in the ass, y'know that?"

Natasha held onto Clint's wrist tightly, the thread of her lifeline almost breaking. she silently told Yelena a goodbye, letting the faint images of you and her together play on her brain. with that, she was in peace.

"no." he feels himself start to panic, as he restlessly tries to pull them both upwards again. failing. "please, Natasha."

"thank you for saving me. for not killing me on that rooftop on Budapest." she grabs her hand knife. "you gave me the chance to have the only thing i ever wanted."

a love. someone to call hers.

"it's okay." the redhead finishes, and takes a deep, final breath. "goodbye, Clint." she cuts the rope off.

the last thing she feels is the wind on her face, and then, an everlasting silence. oops, she doesn't feel anymore. the pain was over. it never existed. from now on, her soul would rest along the memories she had built with you. even if the memories of her suffering were stronger.

the soul stone was now in Clint's hands.

— ₊⊹ ★

"tell me you're lying." you shake your head, taking long, slow breaths.

"i'm so sorry—"

"tell me, you're fucking lying!"

your scream shatters Clint's heart more than he could handle. he looks down, shaking his head in denial.

"you're telling me, she sacrificed herself for the sake of a world who didn't value her," you sharply grab his arm and push him back against the wall. "in the past, in a complete foreign place, and i didn't even had the chance to see her again!?"

it was too much. you sob, covering your mouth and falling to the floor. Clint crouches down with you, his feelings matching yours exactly. you cry, wrapping your arms around yourself and trying to ignore the coldness from the tile floor — or just how cold your body actually felt.

"i'm sorry, Natasha," you whisper to the air, curling yourself into a ball. "i'm so sorry, my love. i'm so, so sorry. wherever you are, i hope you can hear me. i'm so goddamn sorry."

yeah, surely it wasn't going to be easy to live with the glimpse of her everywhere. you weren't even going to live with it. you'd do everything, everything to avenge her, something her own superhero friends didn't do — and go to see her once more.

the blip had destroyed everything. it took everything from you. thinking again, no, it wasn't cool to live with a bunch of superheroes.

( @scarjosii22, finalmente terminei a fanfic 😭 me matei pra escrever tudo isso, tô esperando meu pagamento 😋)

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

March 23rd

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1. Hi. Looking for this fic wherein wwx tried to prank lqr and the elders by acting like a Lan. It backfired because they thought wwx was possessed by Lan An, especially when jwy visited cloud recesses (almost causes a war between jiang and lan). For it to end, wwx pretended to be Lan An and said goodbye then fake fainted (as if Lan An left wwx’s body)

please help me find it 🙏

Hi! I’m from the recent fic finder #1. Unfortunately that’s not what i’m looking for because I remember it being post canon (meaning wangxian are already married). I also remember the Lans asked lwj if lwj still do lovers stuff with wwx (as they really thought wwx was possessed by lan an)

FOUND? Wei Wuxian is Definitely Not Possessed by CursedBlessing (T, 20k, WangXian, Misunderstandings, General Dumbassery, Humor)

#1 I think was deleted. I know the fic they're asking about and I can't find it either.

Number 1 is the correct fic, it's just Chapter 3. / Yeah, 1 IS the correct fic, op's scene is the entirety of ch. 3

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2. Hey, I'm looking for a wangxianfic, in which wei ying and lan zhan are already married. Wei ying goes on a night hunt with the juniors and gets hurt. I think it was a cut on the stomach with poison. Lan zhan cares for him but wei ying is almost dying. Lan zhan is davasteted and says that he can't wait for wei ying again. It was a completed work and I think just 4 chapters. Please can you find the title? With kind regards @smarti1997

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3. I'm not sure if this is something I think happened in a fic, or it really exists, but on the off-chance someone know what I'm talking about - the Sunshot Campaign ends differently with Wen Qing/Wen Ning in charge of the Qishan Wen, and as part of reparations(? Maybe?) the family vaults are revealed. Wen Qing warns people not to touch anything but JGS is too greedy and grabs something and dissolves in dust? And then WQ opens the real vault, the first was to stop thieves. Thank you in advance! @katonahottinroof

I know which fic #3 is talking about but i cannot find it either, gonna go deep dive on ao3 tho (is it that one where the wens have a secret passage into the throne room that opens only with wen blood isnt it. unless im mixing fics too)

FOUND! ❤️ Gentians in bloom by teawater (M, 251k, WangXian, XiQing, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Political Marriage, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, LQR bashing (not really), POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Eventual Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, madam yu bashing (again not completely), MXY Deserves Better) the thing with jgs happen in chapter 34

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4. Hi writing in hopes that someone remembers this fanfiction.:

i once read a fic where LWJ and WWX were stuck in the Xuanwu cave and WWX was i think on the verge of dying but then something emerges from the waters and gives LWJ a deal that if he gives up his voices then as an exchange he can save WWX's life which LWJ obviously does so his voice goes away but by the end of the fic Wangxian go back to the cave where LWJ gets his voice back because he once again strikes a deal with that creature giving up his immortality or something that has to do with him being worshipped for gaining his voice back. was a one shot that i remember clearly and was on ao3 platform also thank you so much cause this blog has bought me my favorite Wangxian fics.

FOUND! Outside Another Yellow Moon by Vamillepudding (T, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Fairy Tale Elements, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ Needs a Hug, Curse Breaking)

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5. help. hey i am certain the fanfics in my memories exist but they keep on eluding me so there are these 2 fics:

A) the premise of this story was time travel where modern WWX travels back in time when other WWX is living with the wens in the burial mounds when LWJ comes to the borders with his modern counterpart and when modern wangxian meet they have a sweet reunion in which they share a kiss after that they are joined by the hip much to the mortification of OG wangxian. WY's parents are dead (car accident) but madam Lan's alive and he calls her mother or mom and modern them is engaged they also have their phones by which they click a photo and after coming to modern world WY sees that as proof that it actually happened. read it on ao3 muti chaptered (completed) with either 4 or 6 chapters 6 being maximum

B) in this one the main Lan fam is captured body swap between WRH and LWJ occurs and after LWJ realizes what has happen he commands that his body's head be severed which is currently housing WRH's soul and LXC and LQR are present to see that happening and grieve over LWJ not knowing WRH was the one who died and LWJ doesn't inform them about the body swap but tells the guards to take LXC and LQR to their rooms he keeps his own body's severed head in his room also. LWJ asks guards to bring him WWX which they do but injured and WWX sees LWJ's severed head and gets angry he also practices to be more like WRH so nobody suspects this is the most clear i remember there were also i think one appearance of WQ and some from WX and WC was on ao3 ongoing atleast when i was reading think over 5 chapter but under 10 the last i had checked (i was so curios to know what happens next but i lost the fic)

thx and sorry if its too confusing

5B)

FOUND? where the sky begins by Shializaro (Not Rated, 17k, WangXian, Bodyswap, Blood and Violence, Body Dysphoria, Dissociation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Crack Treated Seriously)

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6. Hello! This is for ficfinder, I have lost track of two fics, and would very much like assistance finding them again!

A ) an Addams family style modern au. I cannot remember the title, but Lan Wangji enjoyed the taste of Hemlock tea, Wei Wuxian always dressed in gothic clothes, A-Yuan keeps getting possessed, Wen Ning would die temporarily every now and then then, and the reason Lan Wangji went to Yiling in the first place was to find his mother (madam lan is alive in this one).

B ) Young Prince Lan Wangji fled the palace to avoid an arranged marriage, and met an older Wei Wuxian and traveled with him, keeping his identity a secret. Lan Zichen catches up with them after Wangxian have spent the night together (bottom LWJ), and Lan Zhan is taken back to the palace. Wei Wuxian returns to claim his hand, revealing himself as Baoshan Sanren’s heir. Fix ends with them watching their kids play in Lan Zhan’s mother’s garden.

If you can help me find these, I would appreciate it very much!!!! ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ @cullen-blue23

6A)

NOT FOUND🔒The Altogether Ooky WangXian Family by FluffyHippogriff (T, 72k, WIP, WangXian, 3Zun, Modern AU, Addams Family AU, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, mostly because death can be overcome with the help of a little necromancy, Kid Fic, Comedy)

FOUND! lovely thorns and singing crows by isabilightwood (E, 37k WangXian, Modern AU, Addams Family Vibes, meet cute at a funeral, Madam Lán Lives, Light Horror, Curses, Possession, Fluff and Humor, Developing Relationship, Found Family, Weirdo4weirdo wangxian, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs)

NOT FOUND🔒darkness there and nothing more by wvlfqveen (M, 21k, WangXian, Addams Family Fusion, Magical Realism, Body Horror, Addams Family Levels of Violence, Identity Issues)

6B)

FOUND! Beyond These Walls, the Heart Calls by wayward_wing (E, 13k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Adventure & Romance, Prince LWJ, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Jealous WWX, LWJ Flirts, Sleeping Together, Masturbation, Slight Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, eating ass, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Getting Together, Naive LWJ)

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7. Hi. I've been trying to find this Untamed fanfic which I bookmarked but somehow is not in my bookmarked collection anymore! :(. I think it's post-canon but WWX (of course) is injured and LWJ is helping him recover, told from LWJ perspective totally in-character where he has to remind himself to breathe. Once,wj returned to inn room, found WWX gone from the 2nd bed and he tripped over his own feet and was "resigned to the fall". Once he tucked WWX into his bed and sat at his desk to breathe.

FOUND? Always Light My Way by cqlorphan (E, 27k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Friends With Benefits, to lovers, wherein dual cultivation may be counted as a benefit, Jealous WWX, a little bit, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, angsty sex, Switch WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Service Top LWJ, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, the angsty sex happens in the beginning but they get past it dw, Oblivious LWJ, archer wwx, Smart WWX, Porn with Feelings, probably at least half of this fic is just that, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dual Cultivation)

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8. thank you again for this wonderful blog! loading up on fics for my next offline trip and i have one that is driving me nuts. I remember seeing the reference here awhile back but for some idiot reason didn't bookmark it. What I remember is something like this : its after canon - Wei Ying is back, its after Guanyin's temple - but Lan Zhan has a soulmate to get back to so leaves Wei Ying alone on the road. that scene in Untamed haunted me. does this ring any bells? appreciate any help!! @oldoni

FOUND! Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers (E, 60k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Case Fic, betrothed to someone else, unfurling of wifexian scrolls: the fic, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, (it gets resolved lol), WWX POV, Protective wwx, WWX centric, explicit stuff only happens between wangxian, (or wwx and his own hand), Masturbation, get wwx a fainting couch agenda, Alcohol, wwx has some brain problems in this one, Consensual Non-Consent, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, straight boy WWX)

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9. Hello! Please help me find this fic. I don’t remember much, but there was an OC lan elder, who is rescued or helped by Wei Wuxian. I am not sure but Wei Ying didn’t know he was a lan or something. Later on they meet again and elder favours or helps him. I am sorry for being vague, but this is what I remember. It would be great if somebody knows what this fic may be !

Hello, this is requester for number 9. I am really grateful for the person who replied but unfortunately I don’t think that it is the fic I am looking for. As far as I remember wasn’t QHJ, rather an OC lan elder. However I really love the suggestion and enjoyed the fic, so thank you for that!

NOT FOUND The Shadows of My Old Palaces, Falling Across The Moats by ChilianXianzi (T, 8k, WangXian, onesided QHJ/WWX, Canon Divergence, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, QHJ lives, Domestic, Angst, POV Outsider, Age Difference, Fix-It of Sorts)

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10. for the FF: it was a fic where wx are full time dom/sub (sub wwx), i dont rmmbr much except that theres a part where jc causes a scene fearing lwj is abusing him (bc fulltime d/s, he chooses what wwx eats, wears, etc) and jyl has to tell him to shut up and that her and jzx are in a d/s relationship too! i read it ages ago T^T its not "something so flawed and free" by verseau btw! thank u guys <33 love u all mwah

FOUND! rainfall by daltoneering (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, lifestyle kink, 24/7 D/s, Kink Negotiation, kink discussion, Communication, BDSM, dom lwj, Sub wwx, Top LWJ, Bottom wwx, Kink Exploration, collaring, Body Writing, Breathplay, Orgasm Denial, Bondage, Subdrop, Safewording, Panic Attacks, [Podfic of] rainfall by exmanhater)

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11. Hiii! I don't remember much except for the first few chapters, but the fic was really long. I think the plot started off as "What if the Incident in Qiongdi Path never happened?"

The first chapter or so takes place at Jin Lings one month celebration

Wei Wuxian is really damn depressed the whole time (he's really damn depressed the whole fic actually)

Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan never die. Yanli wants to spend time with Wei Wuxian and she makes some soup, but he gets spooked at some point and Wen Ning helps him run away back to the Burial Mounds???

At some point later on in the fic, Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli go to Cloud Recesses and they bring some food for Wangxian.

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12. hii :D im looking for a modern au fic where lz works as a in pharmaceutics and meets wy who is the tech guy of their apartment. he calls himself mo xuanyu and lives with ayuan and is trying to escape his past with the help of police officer nmj. i think there was an autistic lz tag in that fic too. it was so good but i think i forgot to bookmark it.. thanks for your help! @harapecowee

FOUND! Stop and Stay by Fantazy_Eyeland7 (M, 98k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/JGY, SL/XXC, WIP, Blood and Violence, Hurt WWX, Kidnapping, Torture, WWX discovering weighted blankets, Pining LWJ, Modern, FBI Agent NMJ, Protective LWJ, Emotional Manipulation, Toxic JGY, not JGY friendly, LWJ learning how to communicate, WangXian have competence kinks, adopting children, Bad Parent YZY, Protective JYL, Protective JC, Protective NMJ, Past Child Abuse, Precious LSZ, Baby LJY, Warning: XY, Blind Character, slaps top of WWX: This bad boy can fit so much trauma inside, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Everyone is ending up in well-needed therapy, Child Abandonment, Genius WWX, Obsessive XY, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Eventual Smut, Bad Parent JFM, Junior Quartet Dynamics, (As Babies!), Implied/Referenced Suicide, sort of a slow burn, but not really, because they KNOW, they just can't, Good Uncle LQR, eventually) It doesn't have the austistic!lz tag, but everything else fits.

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13. Hi! 🤗

I'm looking for two fics:

A) A fic where WQ makes a second operation with WWX and JC. The only thing I remember is that WWX is really in a bad condition and they ask JC to give the half of the golden core to WWX. He accepts.

B) I'm not sure if it's one o two fics that I'm mixing, but all I remember is that LWJ when he knows about the lost golden core of WWX, decided to make a second golden core inside him to give it to WWX.

Thanks for the wonderful work! 🥰 @wangxiansgirl

13A)

FOUND! The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

NOT FOUND! Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) might also be, (around chapter 43)?

NOT FOUND! in this place where we don’t have a prayer by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T, 42k, WangXian)

13B)

FOUND? 🧡 Discarded by teawater (E, 178k, WIP, WangXian, Lots of Angst, Hurt/Comfort, YLLZ WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect, Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ) If 13B is different from 13A, maybe B is Discarded Lan Zhan creates a "seed core" that Wei Ying can use to grow a new core.

FOUND? these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, ...eventually, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign)

~*~

14. Im trying to find a fic

It was modern setting and maybe has cultivation still? wwx is a tattoo artist and I believe lwj saw some type dark energy out side his shop. So he went in and ending up saying he wanted a tattoo, wwx was who ended up talking to him about it and making him a design. I think it had something to do with bunnies and, then finally when the day came for lwj to get the tattoo. He’s like I’m sorry I never wanted one, wwx gets upset and tells lwj to pay him money in cash for compensation. Lwj does that’s all I can remember I think wwx might have adopted or least helps take care of a -yuan. @zerokogane

FOUND! Demon Ink by Jade_Valentine (E, 189k, WIP, WangXian, Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Tattoo Artist WWX, Magic, Chaotic Bisexual WWX, Demisexual LWJ, background NieLan, Slow Burn, Angst, But substantially less angst than canon, Mutual Masturbation, Domestic Fluff, Welcome to my LWJ & NHS friendship agenda, Shower Sex, Brief mentions of past Lan Bro abuse at the hands of LQR, wangxian family feels, WWX is the Best Dad Ever, WWX's canonical abuse at the hands of Madam Yu, Blow Jobs, Slight Make-Up Kink)

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15. Fic finder request please!!

This is a short omegaverse wangxia? I think it might’ve been part of a series? where it’s Omega WWX and YZY gets him married off to LWJ where she expects him to be treated badly. Instead bc the Lana treat omegas very well, WWX is happy and content. Meanwhile JYL is jealous that WWX actually got mating bites and equal status bc Jin Zixuan didn’t even do that for her. I can’t remember anything else. 😅

FOUND!🔒Alliance AU by Ilona22 (E, 21k, WangXian, JYL/OC, Arranged Marriage, A/B/O Dynamics, PWP, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Intersex Omegas, Not JC Friendly, Matchmaking, canon Jiang family dynamics, Family time, Night Hunts, Mention of male omega pregnancy, Intrigue at Jinlintai, Mentions of Prostitution, War, Conflict between characters)

~*~

16. Sorry to be asking this(fic finder), I really don’t remember how I got to this fic but now I cannot find it but I feel like it probably was here

It’s a fic about how when wwx comes back to life he meets lxc instead of lwj in Mo manor. he asks for lwj and that confirms to lxc that he is wwx and not Mo xuanyu and asks him to go back with him to cloud recesses where he takes care of lwj who couldn’t heal after the 33 leash punishment.

At first wwx doesn’t want lwj to know that it’s him. He brings him bunnies and helps him re learn how to play the guqin(he cannot play it due to his injuries and because he hasn’t practiced since he was punished) lan Yuan helps wwx to learn how to play it and lwj starts being more active

Lxc is happy and let’s wwx go to a small one week vacation but lwj gets worse that week, he also discovers mxy is wwx I think

Tsm for the help🙇‍♀️

~*~

17. hi! i’m looking for two fics:

A) one where wei ying lives with ghosts and is a teacher and runs into lan zhan for the first time in years during a class field trip

B) all i can remember is that wei ying wrote a software called yiling

17A)

FOUND! won’t take the easy road by twigofwillow (T, 47k, wangxian, JC & WWX & JYL, WWX & WQ, space au, yearning, found family, complicated family feels, ghosts, food, teacher WWX)

17B)

NOT FOUND Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing) I think no. 17 might be "Tempo Rubato" but the software is "Stygian"

NOT FOUND The Fated Fortuity by devinokaze (T, 26k, wangxian, WIP, Royalty AU, Modern, Social Media, WWX is Wen Ruohan's son, Qishan Wen Kingdom, stangers to lovers, Prince WWX) The software is called Yin Tiger Tally and Su She tries to claim he wrote it lol.

~*~

18. Hello!! All good? I'm looking for a fic in which WWX becomes a god after his death, I think he's the god of death if I remember correctly. I remember a part where Madam Yu and her Husband (the leader of the Jiang sect) decide to reincarnate... I don't remember much, it's been a while since I read it, another thing I remember is that he communicated with Jiang Cheng through dreams. I already searched the Tag Deity Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian but I didn't find it... Thank you for your work!! @sweettiebah

FOUND! 🔒 Of Destruction and Rebirth by demoniqt (M, 88k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, major character death, rape/non-con, underage, graphic depictions of violence, Slow Burn, Canonical Character Death, God WWX, God Verse, BAMF WWX, Grieving LWJ, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Gods & Goddesses au, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Rabbits, Fix-It, Attempted Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Castration, Lots of it, repeatedly, Punishment, Hell)

~*~

19. heyy could u help me find a fic, I only vaguely remember the details

I read this quite a while ago, wwx is some sort of courtesan, pretty sure he works in a brothel, lwj is either a cultivator (like in canon) or he's a noble/king smth like that! he meets wwz in the brothel place and I think wwx is pretty sly, MAYBE he's wearing dresses and I'm pretty sure they get married in the end? I think someone in the lan clan is against wwx (either lxc or lqr) and I'm also pretty sure it's a pwp, they might have been conspiring too, it's all very vague! any help would be appreciated thanks!!!

FOUND! 醉 | drunk; intoxication by sweetlolixo (E, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mythical Creature WWX, everyone falls in love with weiying at first sight..., Besotted LWJ, Romance, Pregnant WWX, Fluff)

~*~

20. Hi I’m looking for a fix where sizhui and jingyi travels back to the past (maybe to the conference) and they make commentary during the entire time they were waiting to get back to their present. I think in this fix, sizhui revealed that some of the people (madam Yu and others) are listed on lan zhan’s lists. Sizhui also mentions that lan zhan has several lists for different things. Also jinyi called Jin guangshan jin guangshit throughout the whole time they’re there. Thanks

FOUND? A Room Full of Dead People by BurningBlueDiamond (T, 10k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It, but not really, Canon Divergence, Conference in Qinghe but canonically they stay in Gusu, strangely fluffy, POV Outsider)

~*~

[petalsprompts]

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒; 𝙺𝙴𝚈𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 '𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂'.

change  pronouns,  tenses  and  other  details  as  deemed  necessary. &  please  specify  muse  when  sending  to  a  mumu.

"Near  the  end  of  his  life,  he  claimed  to  see  things  in  the  forest.  Fairy  tales  come  to  life."

"As  you  can  see,  new  species  of  wind  nymphs  have  settled  in  the  lands."

"I  can  see  your  true  form  reflected  in  your  eyes.  You  can't  hide  from  me."

"But  this  is  no  ordinary  dwarf."

"They  say  when  you  look  in  dark  places  you  find  the  Dark  Things."

"I  have  abilities.  I  am  not  human.  I  do  not  know  what  I  am."

"Our  forest  is  sacred  and  magical,  with  many  unusual  creatures  and  plants."

"Shapeshifting  requires  the  ability  to  transcend  your  attachments."

"It  does  not  do  to  leave  a  live  dragon  out  of  your  calculations,  if  you  live  near  him."

"In  your  veins  flows  a  mermaid’s  blood,  so  be  a  mermaid."

"We  are  feared  and  terrifying  to  our  foes,  but  we  are  also  creatures  of  romance."

"Vampires,  shifters,  trolls,  demons,  and  creatures  of  myth,  are  as  real  as  the  air  we  breathe."

“A  threatened  unicorn  was  never  a  pretty  sight.”

"Never  laugh  at  live  dragons."

“The  smaller  the  creature,  the  bolder  its  spirit.”

"These  creatures  are  not  humanoid.  They  call  themselves,  the  Fury,  and  the  name  is  well  deserved;  they  are  a  violent  race."

"Men  looked  up  with  faces  pale;  the  dragon's  ire  more  fierce  than  fire,  laid  low  their  towers  and  houses  frail."

"In  a  few  blinks  you  can  almost  see  the  winter  fairies  moving  in...  but  first,  you  hear  the  crackle  of  their  wings."

"A  dragon  without  its  rider  is  a  tragedy.  A  rider  without  their  dragon  is  dead."

"Fairies  of  the  earth  are  caretakers  of  our  soil,  water,  flowers,  and  trees."

"So  comes  snow  after  fire,  and  even  dragons  have  their  endings."

"He  comes  from  an  ancient  subrace  of  dwarves  who  produced  famous  sacred  and  noble  artefacts."

"You  said  dragon  demons  were  extinct."

"Kings  of  the  land  and  the  sky  we  are;  proud  gryphons."

"You  shall  be  a  guest  of  the  Dragonkin."

"I  am  not  human  at  all.  I  am  Fae."

"The  greatest  feature  of  the  Mist  Drakes  are  their  beautiful  blue-green  scales."

"This  isn't  the  work  of  mere  mortal  hunters,  this  is  the  work  of  a  wraith."

"In  its  icy,  black  depths  dwell  strange  and  twisted  creatures  it  is  best  not  to  disturb."

"Unfortunately  we  do  not  have  the  time  to  fly.  Another  day,  I'll  taste  the  skies  again."

"The  Red  Dragon  will  show  the  way."

"Once  a  month,  for  one  evening,  we  are  free  to  wear  our  natural  skins.  We  are  on  the  outside  as  we  are  internally."

"There  are  a  bunch  of  new  species  here  that  I  haven't  seen  before."

[mercymaker]

i feel like a lot of people who write astarion's character off and refuse to engage with his story and character arc are missing out on a very important aspect that is incredibly real and devastating in our world.

it's the existence of an imperfect victim.

which is an unfortunate reality for so many people. and that's why so many of us keep running into this cognitive dissonance where we can't connect the two.

in a way, through media, as well as real life examples, we're constantly being shown this image of a perfect victim, the target of suffering. often completely innocent, there to be tormented and to be weak and to suffer and cry. it's almost... palatable? they're there for us to feel one emotion or another. pity often being at the top of the list. they're at the bottom of the line when it comes to control, authority, aggression. they did nothing wrong. they're there to be brutalized, to fit a very particular role in the narrative. a passive role.

but more often than not, in real life, victims aren't these perfect, meek, quiet, passive figures. especially when it comes to sex trafficking (sex work being looked down by the society and the law surely creates a brutal trap where you're the 'bad guy' even when you ARE a victim). there's no escape. you learn to play by the rules of that world. for so many, there's no 'fairy-tale' ending where you're going to escape by remaining passive and hopeful and continuing to suffer.

there are so many cases where trafficked people end up committing crimes. for some it's just theft, battery, assault. but there are cases where the victims end up brutally murdering their abusers, or their 'clients', or both. and that's when society, as well the judicial system, stops seeing them as a victim altogether. as if they never were one. all of their absolutely horrific suffering gets pushed away, nullified in the eyes of the public. now they are the perpetrator, the criminal. and worst of all, some use this to justify their horrific abuse.

i can't even count how many times i've seen comments where people say 'well, they didn't have to kill them, they could've xyz' or 'why go out of their way to be so brutal?' etc. etc. which yet again... erases sympathy for the victim.

as if committing immoral acts somehow retroactively applies 'punishment' through previous abuse. and the mob's moral craving for 'justice' gets scratched. resolves the cognitive dissonance. it's much easier to connect the two dots, if the person was 'evil' all along. perhaps they were never a victim to begin with? perhaps they deserved it?

and that's where, to me, it loops back to astarion's story. and one of the key points portrayed.

no one deserves such horrific abuse. it doesn't matter if you're an asshole or if you're a sweet girl who had her trust exploited.

and it's not to say that a victim's crimes are suddenly justified because they were a victim to begin with, no.

it's more about our inability to tackle the nuance when someone is both. the one inflicting the suffering as well as receiving it. their 'crimes' are not justified by their suffering. yet, their suffering is also not justified by their 'crimes'.

it is certainly a difficult situation to navigate, but i wish some people would engage with those uncomfortable topics and step out of their comfort zone sometimes instead of writing something off because of some surface details.

[villainofmyownstory]

Hi! I'm V (Villain or Vi) | she/her

!!!!!!!! 18+ only! MDNI (nsfw + dark content) !!!!!!!!

writing fat reader characters | my native language isn't English

WIP updated 07/30/24

Day Zero

apocalypse AU - ongoing - chapter 7

Simon "Ghost" Riley x plus size fem!reader

masterlist | taglist | AO3 | playlist

Ghost and his dog Riley regularly patrol the city. A man has his own routine, every day, for almost 2 years, has to look the same. The man knows that he cannot change his behavior because deep down he still feels that someone will answer his radio signal. He doesn't lose hope. However, exactly 730 days after "Day Zero", no one shows up at the transmitter mast. Just when you finally get there. You've been trying to get here for weeks, seeing a tower in the distance. You needed electricity, and the tower had a source of light every night. And so each of you, individually, still thinks that you are the only one alive.

______________________________________________________________

Three copies and some signatures

part 1 part2

Simon/Reader/(Johnny)

You and Simon are married. A deal, a contract made only to avoid being deported. However, not everything can be predicted, lies are slowly consuming everyone. You, Simon and his real partner - Johnny. Feelings are stronger than words written on paper.

______________________________________________________________

click 'keep reading' to see more of my works

Blurry

exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

ongoing - part 2

You visit your ex-husband, in your once shared home. The memories are painful. But only for you. Unfortunately, after that one bloody mission, John doesn't remember you. The memory of your life together, blurred in his mind.

______________________________________________________________

GIF by adultstim

part 1 Blindsided part 2 Anyone Else

for Cali’s Nameless Challenge

nameless COD member x fem!Reader

You can't get over the breakup and the fact that you were left alone. You keep coming to the place where you last saw him. To, perhaps, finally get some kind of answer. Some solace.

______________________________________________________________

Light years

oneshot #GhostChallenge

Simon “Ghost” Riley x android/hologram!Reader

Many decades of longing. A lot of years of waiting. Hundreds of light years away from an Earth that no longer seemed like a memory, but a fictional story. A fairy tale written by poets. Earth no longer existed, and life on Zeus 2 went on as if the years of intergalactic war had never happened. As if the destruction of most of humanity had never taken place. There were still a few people on the new planet who remembered their lives on Earth. A past that was a memory stinging under the ribs. A small personal utopia for the last living people. Paradise lost.

______________________________________________________________

Incapacitation

König x plus size fem!reader

| AO3

You and König contact each other every day. Literally, you talk all the time. As soon as you open your eyes you see or hear him. König accompanies you in every activity. But you are no longer together. Despite the distance between you, you still hope that he will come back to you. One day you find out that König has fallen in love with another woman. Something inside you breaks. Once again. You will not let him decide about his life again, not this time. You know better what is best for him. You know König very well. After all, you talk to each other all the time.

______________________________________________________________

Zultanite

Poly TF141 x plus size fem!reader

masterlist | AO3

After inheriting jewelry from your dearest grandmother and one visit to a fortune teller. Your life is changing. Not once, not twice…. but four times.

[tfyoulookingatgiuxs]

Do it again...

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Princess!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Night reigned in your great and powerful castle as a menace out there stalked, threatening the people who lived beyond. You were alone locked away for safety, but no one knew that you had a sweet and exciting visit from a creature who wanted only and only you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ SMUT!!! MDNI!!Unprotected sex, p in v, bondage, age gap, choking, dracyphilia, degradation (whore, slut ect..), pet names (pretty girl, princess ect...), dirty talking, fingering, spanking, dom!mean!Eddie, sub!fem!reader, praise kink, begging, blood kink, wax play, monster fuck, aftercare, secret relationship.

𝐀/𝐍: Sorry for my english, is not my native language. I really love this one, i hope you enjoy! (Please dont judge, this is my first smut i posted on Tumblr, hope you can support new writers.) I would defenitely brought another one-shot like this, beacuse a love Eddie in fantasy romance. Support new writers and reblog! (DIVIDER NOT MINE)

Night reigned over the kingdom of Nyzeen. It was populated by a large village that lived thanks to the king who ruled over them. A loyal and kind man who cared about his people and about making sure no one lived in poverty.

His kingdom was powerful and with equally strong and trained guards. He founded Nyzeen about twenty years ago at a young age, when he had enough courage to defeat Lilith, one of the most dangerous vampire women in the world, defined as the reincarnation of Count Vlad, an extremely dangerous vampire being who took pleasure in impaling own victims and then drain them dry by drinking their blood.

Lilith was defined as Vlad, a real devil, mother of all her demons called vampires today, created by the devil himself to take revenge on mankind by depriving them of their blood, and transforming them into part of his ranks.

The king, after defeating Lilith, took possession of the large and dark castle, creating the kingdom that it is today, saving the prisoners who were left there as a breeding ground for their uncontrolled hunger.

On that full moon night, the king found the love of his life among the unfortunate survivors, a woman with a wonderful appearance. The young king could not resist and married her, ruling at her side and they became husband and wife. One fine day, the king and queen gave birth to a beautiful and enchanting baby girl. You.

The day of your birth, in Nyzeen, was recognized as one of the days in which a sudden cold descended never felt before, while the forest present a few steps from the kingdom mysteriously expanded.

Many years have passed and you were close to adulthood, where you would soon have to choose your future husband and rule your future people. You were to become their queen, confident and fearless. Your mother still cries when she sees you today, in a short time you had grown up and it seemed like only yesterday when she held you in her arms for the first time. She was proud of you as was your father. To them, you were the most beautiful in all the realm, no one could resist your refined beauty. You were like a wonderful flower that bloomed in the blood of God, a divinity with an apparently monstrous appearance due to the dominant black color, but with the kindness and purity of a true angel from heaven.

However, in this beautiful fairy tale there was also a horrible threat that had been worrying the entire village lately. The forest that lay before the kingdom, also called The Black Forest, hid vampires who survived the war against Lilith. They caused the deaths of some inhabitants of the kingdom who had left to obtain some wood. The return of those blood-hungry creatures has sparked panic, but the king has promised to keep everyone safe and kill all those beasts that still infest this land. He hate them.

The vampire...

A creature as fascinating as it is on a scientific level is also extremely dangerous. It outlives man for thousands of years, maintaining a youthful appearance that masks its enormous age. Capable of transforming into bats, fog or werewolves, the predators par excellence. They have sharp canine teeth with which they tear the skin of humans and suck their lifeblood.

Their skin could change shades depending on how much blood they drank and they knew how to disguise themselves among humans, living among them as if nothing had happened. The books were full of information about them, and you couldn't hide that you felt some interest.

It was a cool night with a red moon and on that precise evening all the citizens of the kingdom locked themselves inside their homes, barring the doors and windows. Vampires during the red moon were ruthless and nothing would stop them. The only thing that could have kept them away was garlic. It was the weapon to keep them away, especially that night. Instead, your parents asked the more trained guards to lock you in your rooms and make sure nothing happened.

Not only were the lives of the citizens at stake, but also yours and that of the entire kingdom. You were the daughter of the man who defeated and ruined the vampire race, they certainly didn't find you nice...

Your room was dark and a few oil candles attached to the walls gave light. The windows were closed, including the small balcony that overlooked the castle's outdoor garden. You were calmly looking at yourself in the mirror while combing your hair. You were still in your long dress, you didn't feel like wearing your nightgown yet so you preferred to wait.

A tidy and sober dress, a true gothic princess after all. The only thing you got rid of was the corset so you could feel freer and more carefree.

You jumped on the spot when you suddenly heard a knock on the glass of your balcony, as if someone had knocked. You turned around but no one was there. You therefore decided to get up and go and check; you weren't afraid, not even of a possible vampire, maybe... it depends on who the vampire in question is. You were attracted by the reddish light of the moon, all in front of you, as if it had come to take you.

Incredible, you thought.

Someone's shadow appeared, you managed to see it, it was hidden behind the wall. You grabbed a knife from your thigh lining, then jerked open the entrance to your balcony. It was all so fast. The stranger managed to block your arms from behind, but you kicked him on the knee and as soon as he grimaced in pain you pointed the knife near his throat.

Only now did you realize that the sharp blade was grazing Eddie's pale white skin. Your tense muscles loosened as a giggle escaped his lips "I must say you've improved, princess" he said and you lowered the weapon putting it down and he licked his lower lip "I wasn't expecting any visitors" You stated walking back inside while the vampire followed you "I wanted to surprise you with the surprise effect" He said as he wrapped his arms around your waist and in the meantime you closed the balcony "Well you did it" You whispered as he placed his cold lips on yours skin pressing a few kisses.

Exact. You were secretly paired with a vampire, one of those who killed for food and who together with his cronies are wreaking havoc through The Black Forest. It wasn't your fault, you couldn't imagine it ending like this, actually it wasn't supposed to go like this, but fate had decided that way. That day when he pierced your heart like a sharp arrow you lost your temper, you couldn't escape, you couldn't resist, you were destined. A dream...a dream where love is nothing but passion, sin and chaos, nothing more!

You turned towards him giving him a sweet kiss while he held you close to him. You placed your hands on the now torn black shirt that showed the rest of his stomach. It was stained with that dark red liquid like wine but which for his tastes was even better than the wine itself.

"Why this sudden visit on the night of the red moon?" You asked then felt her nails as black as her arms fix one of your locks "I haven't seen my princess in days, I felt so alone, so I came to see you" curious how he chose today to come and see you , but in the end, it was fine, right? You had removed all the verbena plants you kept in your room, so it's as if you were waiting for his arrival. Verbena was an extremely rare plant to find and used to ward off vampires and witches' spells. Only people from the castle could take advantage of this very difficult to find flower, but you didn't think about it.

“My poor dear, I'm sorry for making you feel so alone” You said in an empathetic tone stroking his unruly curls “I couldn't imagine living a hundred years without your presence” he whispered making you blush and he kissed you again. He was hungry, more romantic than usual and what's more his grip was stronger than you remembered.

You separated while catching your breath and he could feel your warm breath on his chin "And you? How did my princess feel without me?" He asked. Your noses were together and you could notice his dark circles and brown eyes like a fallen autumn leaf "Bored. Without you, life here is still the same, nothing new" since your relationship was something secret , you and Eddie couldn't be together whenever you wanted, so it was normal if you didn't see each other for a week or even a whole month.

Eddie nodded "Well now you don't have to worry because I'm here princess" Yes. It was definitely VERY romantic unlike other times you two saw each other. You didn't say anything to him until he pressed a few kisses to your neck "If you're feeling peckish, just help yourself, you know I don't mind" You used a calm tone that would put Eddie at ease.

But he shook his head "I can't sweetheart, I don't want to bleed you dry" he positioned his face in the crook of your neck and you gave him a simple kiss. You had forgotten that on a night like this, vampires could be aggressive and uncontrolled. The younger vampires were extremely out of control and with a higher bloodlust, but Eddie, being a vampire who has lived over three hundred years, fortunately does not have this problem, but still he would have been uncontrolled if you let him drink your blue blood. But you would do it, you didn't care if he would drain you to death, you would do it for him.

“I would take the risk for you,” you told him as your hand ran through his messy curls. You felt his cold breath on your neck, sending shivers down your entire spine. It wasn't the first time Eddie drank your blood, the first time he tasted you he called it the purest blood he had ever drunk. From then on, Eddie demanded that no other vampire scum should touch you or your blood, you were his, and you wouldn't change that.

Eddie, hearing your consent, sank his fangs into your neck causing excruciating pain. You held back a scream by biting your bottom lip hard. He sucked your blood intensely and you heard him moan. The vampire's grip got tighter and tighter and you hissed something and then no longer felt that stinging pain. He licked the bleeding wound and you squeezed your legs together feeling some tingling.

At a moment like this you absolutely shouldn't be excited, but his teeth as well as his tongue dragging on your wound, it was a mix of different emotions for you.

You were so needy in that moment...and here you came to fuck on your big bed, while outside the knights started making a big mess. Eddie had you pinned to the bed, wrists tied to the headboard, dress now off leaving your skin exposed and on display. Escaping was now impossible...

The vampire had positioned himself above you, his fingers playing on your clit in circular motions, while with his other hand he held a white candle, dropping the now melted and hot wax.

“Eddie-” you called him as tears rolled down your cheeks “No” he said once again in a dominant tone. You absolutely had to come, but Eddie ordered you not to, he wanted to ruin you, and what better way than to drag it out? You moaned at the burning of the hot wax on your belly, you couldn't make too much noise, even if there was a racket outside you couldn't risk it "Look at you, you're so pathetic" he said with a grin as you almost screamed because of the wax that fell on your left breast “I bet you want my cock inside you so bad, huh princess?” You were too caught up in the sensations that it took you time to respond.

Spank!

“I asked you a fucking question whore” he said growling and squeezing your ass where he hit “Y-yes!” You said desperately "Please Eds-" you begged. The vampire laughed teasing you "Have we got our manners back, princess?" He asked as he threw a handful of hot wax on your nipple which this time made you scream but you tried to bite your lip to hold back "Yes Eddie, please make me cum" you looked at him with tears in your eyes and he smiled, blowing out the candle with a simple blow, placing it on the nightstand next to your royal bed. The vampire moved closer to your face to kiss your cheeks and suck some of your salty tears. One of his fingers had now entered you making you moan noticeably “Just like that” He whispered to you as he sunk his fangs into your neck, but lower near your collarbones. You felt all the pain and pleasure at the same time. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of your pussy could be heard throughout the room, and you were seriously about to reach your limit "E-um" You tried to say his name and failed miserably "Come on princess, now you can cum, i want to be generous" he said pulling away from your skin, disinfecting the wound with its saliva. His approval was all you needed, and sure enough, you came wetting his ringed fingers and moaning throwing your head back “Fuck-” You vulgarly said abandoning yourself to the passion of the moment.

Your legs trembled as the vampire stood up looking fully at you. You were fucking gorgeous, now naked on your own bed, tied at the wrists, half your body covered in wax, cheeks wet from your tears and makeup now smudged. You were ruined, but not completely. There was something else you wanted badly, and that was his seed inside you. It wasn't the first time you had sex with Eddie, and for this you thought you were very lucky, because you didn't think you had ever enjoyed so much in your life, even if he was a mystical and dangerous creature, you were really grateful that it was him who took your virginity.

The vampire caressed your thigh and then gave a spank that made you gasp "You really like coming huh? My little slut" he wiped his lips dirty with your blue blood with his hand "Eddie please..." You continued to pray to him. You couldn't do anything else, you didn't care anymore, not even if someone could come in and catch you in that scandalous state.

“I hear you needy girl” He chuckled and hastily took off his pants, freeing his erect, needy cock. He couldn't wait to make you scream his name with just simple thrusts as your tears fall in pleasure.

You felt the tip of his cock tapping against your clit and then Eddie positioned his cock at the entrance to your pussy, then, without warning, thrusting in with a rough deal, you let out a moan as you screamed his name.

“F-fuck, you're so damn tight” he said as he placed his ringed hand on your neck pressing lightly “Now see about using that pretty little mouth to scream my name.” With this, the vampire, without hesitation, began to give firm thrusts, he was seriously full of adrenaline, you didn't think if it was because of the red moon night or if it was just a coincidence.

Every thrust got louder and louder, and every moan you made was just as loud. "Do you hear that, princess? All this noise?" He whispered and you heard some screams coming from outside. You couldn't seriously understand what was happening but deep down, you didn't care in the slightest, you nodded "People out there are about to be massacred, what about you? Oh of course, you're here getting fucked by a vampire" those words of his were like a fine iron blade pointed at the belly.

It was really true...

There was definitely a massacre going on outside and instead of worrying about it you were there tied to that bed getting fucked hard by a vampire.

"Who knows what your parents will think of you...just a little doll who loves to be fucked, isn't she?" His firm hand on your neck tightened even more making you gasp between your moans. Some blood had leaked from your wound, staining the pillows behind you. You nodded and he didn't accept this answer of yours.

Spank!

"Use your words, pretty girl" after this, Eddie sped up making you moan uncontrollably hitting that sweet spot inside you "Y-yes Eddie! I'm your little doll" You almost screamed as your breathing quickened and you began to sweating “Of course you are, fuck-” he let out a moan as you rolled your eyes up “Eddie- I have to-” the words died as more gasps filled you and salty tears wet the pillow next to you. "Cum all over my cock, princess" the sound of your skins flapping repeatedly was something vulgar and sinful "Fuckfuckfuckfuck-" You repeated throwing your head back once again as your pussy tightened around the his cock, you both came moaning in unison.

“Jesus Christ-” the vampire growled giving the last two thrusts, firm and strong filling you with his cum. Eddie removed his hand from your neck, revealing some marks you would have been hard pressed to hide, not to mention the bites caused by his hunger. He pressed light kisses to your neck and you tried to catch your breath “Everything ok princess?” He asked as he caressed your waist, you nodded looking at him. You were tired, exhausted, and Eddie noticed. He stood up taking a deep breath and took care of you by cleaning up the combined case.

You woke up the next morning under your linen covers, the sun's rays streaming through the window and forcing you to open your eyes. You turned your head to look next to you and saw the silhouette of Eddie sitting facing the balcony, the vampire was putting on sunscreen to avoid getting burned. You admired the vampire's back, he seemed to be sculpted from clay, a true historical statue, his messy but majestic curls were simply perfect, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and you would never deny it.

You noticed that you weren't naked like you remembered, but in your nightgown. Most likely it was him who dressed you and took care of you, you also noticed how for the first time the boy had slept with you. Because of your secret relationship, it wasn't usual to sleep together in the same bed without being discovered, but you appreciated this gesture on his part. Eddie turned around noticing you waking up "Good morning sleeping beauty" he smiled at you and you did the same still a little sleepy "How are you?" He asked walking closer to you, resting his pale back, like the rest of his skin, on the headboard "Good Eds. Last night though, you were different..." You added a note of concern and the vampire raised his eyebrow as put away the sunscreen.

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

"Last night you were upset. You were a desperate, howling demon. You scared me..." A small grin formed on your face as your nightgown was now on full display and the vampire's hungry eyes couldn't help less than admiring you "Aw, I'm sorry if this vampire scared you princess" he said sarcastically and came closer "Oh, my dear, please. Do it again..." you stroked his dark curls and he laughed "Come here naughty girl"

He smiled as he walked over and hugged you as you let out a soft laugh.

Who cares what happened to him last night! Now you just wanted to stay held by him for eternity.

[triflesandparsnips]

Lot of takes going around the internets about certain "deaths" in the ofmd season finale, so, uh-- guess it's time for me to try and lose some followers on tumblr dot com with

Some Thoughts on Why I Am Not Particularly Bothered or Concerned about Izzy's Apparent "Death"

Laying the groundwork first...

1. Narratively speaking, Izzy's been a dead man walking since the start of the season. Babe shot himself and got a rebirth-- but he still definitely intended to die. Every minute he was still around was borrowed time.

Did he have to die? Maybe not. I know I could've written a version of the show where he didn't. But then that would be my show-- not theirs. I can't know exactly what themes, bugbears, bête noires, catharsis, or artistic Vibes are driving that writers' room, and until the credits run on the finale of the third season, none of the rest of us can either.

2. Izzy spent the season being in a liminal state-- and there's nothing in the story saying that he can't continue doing that. Izzy spent the season having one foot in one space, one hoof in the other, and himself halfway through the door, a chimera of mirrored things right up to his "death": pirate and ship, hard and soft, old ways and new, etc etc. But "the gravy basket" is a weird little liminal space between life and death, a place that both Ed and Buttons have found (and returned from) before. We don't know where Izzy "is" right now-- he could be there.

(tbh, I wonder how much poor feeling we'd be having about all this if we'd gotten a final tag of a blue-washed Izzy staring down at a bowl of soup while helplessly saying "but this isn't gravy, what the fu--")

3. I think there is an unfortunate belief that "it's not real unless you see the body" is a universal -- or perhaps inarguable -- "fact" of storytelling. But it's not. It's just a bit of narrative shorthand that got popular, and now we're too ready to fall into the trap of believing the inverse is true too-- that if there is a body, then there must therefore have been a "real" death.

This season has spent quite a lot of narrative time and effort telling us that its story is using a different model, with different shorthands; specifically, that magic is real, that there is at least some kind of existence after death, and that the dead can be resurrected.

And that brings me to the meat of why I'm not particularly bothered or concerned about what, at this stage of the story, could still very well be just a minor setback--

4. This whole show, and particularly this season, is a fairy tale. It's a story that works with fairy tale logic and tropes, and it's in conversation with other fairy tales too, ones that the OFMD audience is likely to know well enough to spot their narrative beats in action. So "Pinocchio" gets mentioned a lot? Cool-- the audience applies what is commonly known of that story to this one ("a real boy", the mirror-opposite being a puppet with no nose, etc), and finds some Cool Shit. Then they're primed to keep looking for fairy tales, even unnamed ones, in case there's another little nugget of reward-dopamine for finding a connection.

So the fact that we saw a mermaid? Suddenly, I personally am noticing "Little Mermaid" motifs all over the place. That Ed was in a "sleep like death" -- after fucking around with a spinning wheel -- until his prince came to wake him? Well fuck, man, that's Blackbeard playing "Sleeping Beauty" for us all.

And bringing it all back to a "dead" Izzy Hands... when I add up a "dead" body surrounded by a bunch of laborers mourning the person who nominally kept their living space nice AND who was wanted dead by an authority figure for the crime of being the "better" version of what that figure wanted to be...

...well fuck, idk about the rest of you, but to me that all adds up to Izzy's story being Snow fucking White. Waiting for someone to come pull the bullet poisoned apple from his body so he can live again.

5. This is a second season. Of three. And Izzy Hands is the writer's favorite chewtoy, so there is lots of time, space, and incentive to bring him back. If there's a third season, we have a pile of ways he could be brought back over the course of hours of literal viewing time and possibly months of in-narrative time. That's ages.

And the solutions don't have to be difficult! For instance, we still have canonical hallucinations from Stede-- that's one route. Or fuck it, we could have Izzy's (very solid-looking) ghost be the embodiment of their being haunted by the Sea, that would work too.

And even barring all that-- his grave is right there with our heroes. The ship is out there hunting down his murderer. Even if you're happy he's dead... bad news, friend. He's all over the third season landscape. (uh oh, it's GNU Izzy Hands)

But those are just a few options that leave his body rotting but his character still alive. I happen to think we could all dream a little bigger, darlings. For instance:

A. You cannot tell me that these writers, on this show, with these actors, would not absolutely go all in on a zombie-esque hand thrusting out of the dirt mere hours after burial. Look me in the eyes and tell me Con O'Neill wouldn't pull off an entire digging-out scene only to end with himself panting beside the hole, looking around, hearing Ed and Stede being weird in their haunted hut, and wearily say, "Are you fucking kidding me."

B. Don't like zombies? Want to stay closer to the Snow White vibe AND introduce a love interest for him? One hyphenated word: body-snatcher. Gotta dig those bodies up fresh for the Definitely Historically Accurate anatomists of the time! But oh, says this New Guy, this corpse is-- wow, it's weird that they buried him with a rose and really amazing makeup and a truly extraordinary number of whittled whales, plus what's with that horsey leg grave marker, this guy must've been fucking fascinating, man, I wish I could've met him-- --at which point Izzy's hand shoots out and chokes the guy half to death and the lads come tumbling out of the house and ta da, mission accomplished, Izzy resurrected in 5 minutes or less with his horsey leg conveniently beside him and an entire season for himself and everyone else to Deal With It, amazing, fantastic, no notes from me.

C. Come to think of it, there is genuinely a non-zero chance that the crew just. Fucked up the burial. I mean... even though I was just arguing why we shouldn't see it as Law, we didn't actually see the body. We saw a grave. What did they bury him in? Was it a box? Was it some canvas? Did they definitely pick up the right one when it was time to bury him? Or did they maybe carefully make him an ahistorical safety coffin just in case a cat demon came to bother him and his corpse wanted to make a fuss about it, y'know, very common, could happen to anyone, and Frenchie just so happens to have Blackbeard's old collar bell right here--

6. Here's the bottom line, imo: The only thing that would keep Izzy really actually dead and completely removed from the story is a lack of narrative time and space-- and we have plenty of both. Stories are like Lego. If you've got enough time and you're willing to play with pieces from a whole lotta different sets, it's not hard to put the same elements together in different ways to get new, exciting configurations. It's why I'm actually rubbish at predicting exact details of stuff-- there are a lot of ways something could go, there are infinite doors out of problems the narrative seems to throw at us, and no two people will come up with the same thing because we're all different.

That, to me, is one of the big ways I personally enjoy and engage with stories. And it's why I genuinely can't be fussed about Izzy's death, not when we're only two-thirds through the story as a whole; observing someone setup and then try and execute a complicated narrative trick is my jam.

But my way of engaging with all this is by no means the best or only way. How we all interact with art, and what speaks to us, is extremely personal. If how this season and Izzy's death went just didn't work for you, that's okay. I'm sorry it wasn't the story you wanted it to be. That blows.

I just know I can't say yet that it didn't work for me. I won't know until I can take in the entire picture, just as I can't judge a finished Lego set by the one piece I step on midway through construction. I can see different ways Izzy's death/rebirth could absolutely work, but will the writer manage it? I dunno.

But I'm willing to wait and see if the stupid puppet can pull it off.

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

Love in the Rain

*not my GIF Summary: Nikolai is your best friend and you’re hopelessly in love with him, too bad he’s engaged to Alina Starkov. But maybe a storm and a love confession could change everything. Requested by: kateswone - Could you do a Nikolai x reader one, where there's a lot of pining and in the rain confession in the end? - This started as a drabble and somehow became 6000 words 🙈 I hope you like it! Word count: 6K ish Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Minor Alina Starkov friendship and brief mention of Dominic Vertov, mild angst/pining, fluff, idiots in love, smut, fem!reader, fingering, P in V sex, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!), suggestion of oral sex. Fun fact, this was my first ever request! I had so much fun writing it, so if anyone would like to request something in the future please do, my inbox is always open and anonymous asks are on too 😊

You had always known you were illegitimate, born to a nobleman and his housekeeper. Though their union may have been scandalous, you believed with all your heart that they had loved each other.

You had few true memories of your mother, who had died when you were very young, but you remembered the happy years you had spent with your father, who had been warm and loving. He had always treated you as his daughter and never made you feel less than. Unfortunately when he died, yet another casualty of the Ravkan war, you had finally found out what it truly meant to be illegitimate. A bastard child could not inherit and your father’s estate had been entailed away to some distant male relation. The new master of the house had not wanted the trouble or expense of raising a child, and your father’s will did not include any incentive for him to do so. So you were promptly dropped off at an orphanage and at 8 years old, you had found yourself completely alone in the world. You had little to call your own except a book of fairy tales that had once belonged to your mother. Some of the pages were frayed around the edges and the cover was battered and worn, but it was your most treasured possession. The stories were all of a similar ilk, cautionary tales with brave princes fighting dragons and ogres, and princesses held hostage or locked away in towers. The heroes always triumphed and the damsel was always saved, and they all lived happily ever after. You would read the stories over and over, dreaming that one day you too would get your happy ending. Adjusting to life in the orphanage had been difficult, you were used to fine food, to goose-down pillows and silk, but now you ate meager rations, wore clothes of peasant rough-spun and slept on a mattress stuffed with hay. You tried your best to acclimate and vowed never to complain, but your high rank of birth made you unpopular, both with the other children and the staff.

They made it clear that they resented your good manners and education. They mocked the way you spoke and how you held yourself, deliberately excluded you from games and always saddled you with the worst of the chores. No matter how hard you tried, you did not fit in. So any time an opportunity presented itself that would allow you time away from the orphanage, you took it. That was how you met Nikolai. You were 12 and him 14, and you were on the Vertov farm for the summer to help with the wheat harvest. It was hard work but the Vertovs were good people and they treated you kindly. They invited you to eat dinner with the family every night and one night, their son Dominic brought along a friend from the palace. With his golden hair and shiny boots, Nikolai looked as if he had walked right off the page of your storybook. He took the seat next to you and when he engaged you in conversation it seemed like he was genuinely interested in what you had to say. You quickly found that he was as charming as he was handsome, a fairytale prince brought to life and you warmed to him immediately. In the weeks that followed that first meeting, Nikolai was at the farm almost as often as you were. He rolled up his sleeves and mucked in with the work, spending long days in the fields alongside you and Dominic. Sometimes the boys would tease you, but it was never mean-spirited in the way that it was at the orphanage and soon the three of you became firm friends, joking and laughing together as you worked. Nikolai in particular was easy to talk to and over time you confided in him about how awful things were at the orphanage and how much you missed your father. In return he had told you a bit about his life at the palace, his complicated relationship with his brother and the rumors of his own parentage. You both knew what it was like to feel that you didn’t belong, and having someone else who understood made you feel less alone. Before long you had developed a crush on the prince, though it wasn’t your fault. He was always looking at you, and smiling in that way that made butterflies take flight in your stomach, always telling jokes and trying to make you laugh. He insisted he sit next to you whenever he stayed for dinner, and he had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room that mattered. As September came to an end, so did the harvest and you were to return to the orphanage. You had cried saying your goodbyes, and Nikolai had enveloped you in a hug, squeezing you tight and promising he would see you again soon. Just a few days later, a messenger had arrived to notify you that there was a place for you within the Queen’s household. It didn’t take long for the young prince to seek you out once you arrived at the palace, but when you thanked him for bringing you there he had acted the picture of innocence, declaring he had no idea what you were talking about. His mother chose her own ladies, he insisted, though his mischievous grin suggested otherwise. Although she was surely aware of your illegitimate status, the Queen graciously allowed you to adopt your fathers name at court, and the other ladies accepted you as one of their own without question. You found it was remarkably easy to settle into a happy existence at the palace, especially since Nikolai was a constant presence, always there to help and encourage you. No matter how busy he was, you could always depend on seeing him at least once a day. Sometimes he would seek you out at breakfast, stealing fruit from your plate and winking at you when his mother scolded him, or stop you in the hallway to ask about your day while the other ladies giggled behind you, but his favorite time to visit you was late at night, when everyone else was asleep. He would sneak into your room, face lit by dim candlelight and sit cross-legged on your bed, talking endlessly about anything and everything - palace gossip, an idea he had for an invention, places you both wanted to travel, dreams for the future. Even when he went off with Dominic to complete his military service, and then off to sea, he somehow still found time to write to you several times a week until he returned. Now almost 12 years had passed since he had rescued you from your life at the orphanage and Nikolai was no longer a prince, but he was still your best friend. Which only made the fact that your childhood crush had blossomed into unrequited love that much more difficult to bare.                                      - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The state banquet was in full swing and you were seated near one end of the long table. The Kaelish ambassador sat to your right and another man on your left, though you could not recall his title. Both men had been talking almost non-stop for over an hour, each competing for your attention, but you had long since tuned them out. You couldn’t stop your eyes wandering to where you knew the King sat, at the head of the table. He was deep in conversation with Alina Starkov, who held the place of honour by his side, but his eyes met yours briefly and the corner of his mouth tipped up into that boyish smile you loved so much. The Kaelish ambassador laid a hand on top of yours on the table, trying to regain your attention and Nikolai’s smile dropped from his face, a small crease appearing between his brows in its place. You turned away, breaking the eye contact so that you could politely extricate yourself from the ambassador’s grasp. When you looked back, the King had returned to his conversation, the Sun Saint once again holding his full attention. You watched as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, and she tipped her head back to laugh. You studied her as you sipped your wine. The Sun Saint and the saviour of Ravka. You wanted to hate her, but she couldn’t even allow you that you thought bitterly, because not only was she beautiful, she was also brave and kind. Even her laugh was pretty, a light, musical sound. Despite the fact that she had grown up an orphan like you, she had a way about her that just screamed royalty. She would make a perfect Queen for him. You pushed away your plate of half-eaten dinner, your appetite quite ruined.                                     - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nikolai watched you from the opposite end of the table. Alina was talking and he knew he should be focused on her but in truth he was barely even listening. You looked stunning tonight, even more so than usual, and he was having a hard time taking his eyes off you. Your gaze finally fell on him and he smiled back at you, warmth blooming in his chest at having your full attention even in the crowded room, but then the Kaelish ambassador touched your hand with his and Nikolai’s heart sank. You were a beautiful and intelligent woman and yet you were still unmarried, so it was no surprise that any man seated next to you would be vying for your affections. Nikolai knew he had no right to be upset, given his own engagement to Alina, but truthfully, he was a selfish creature at his core and he did not want to see you with anyone but him. As you turned to the ambassador, Nikolai forced himself to shift his attention back to Alina, he couldn’t stand to watch the other man flirt with you. Alina was giving him a knowing look and he didn’t like it. The last thing he wanted was a lecture on the dangers of unrequited love from the Sun Saint. Humor was his favorite method of deflection, and it had always served him well in the past, so he leaned in close, quietly making a joke about the unfortunate looking man sat opposite them. Alina laughed and the moment passed just as he’d hoped it would. He made a concentrated effort to keep his eyes off of you for the rest of dinner.                                     - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - After dinner, the King and his fiancé led the procession, their arms linked together delicately, as everyone moved to the ballroom. You trailed behind, tempted to just duck out altogether and go back to your room where you could be alone. Then the Kaelish ambassador appeared at your side, offering to escort you in and dashing all hopes of escape. You looped your arm through his reluctantly and allowed him to take you into the crowded ballroom. Your eyes swept the room involuntarily, seeking Nikolai out as always. You found him off to the side of the dance floor, talking with Alina again, their arms still linked and their heads bent intimately close together. You ignored the bloom of pain in your chest and forced yourself to look away. You turned to the man at your side instead, plastering a smile on your face. “Are you enjoying your time in Ravka, ambassador?” You asked. “Very much so,” he smiled, “but then, what man would not enjoy your charming company?” You looked away, feeling your cheeks heating up at the compliment. “That’s very kind of you to say, ambassador.” “Please, call me Cillian.” “I’m not sure that would be appropriate,” you demurred. “I insist,” he said, taking your hand. You caught sight of Nikolai in your peripheral vision, he and Alina were moving towards you and panic clawed at your throat. You didn’t have it in you tonight to pretend to be happy for them. “Alright,” you allowed, giving him the coyest smile you could manage, “but only if you will agree to dance with me.” The ambassador - Cillian, looked thrilled and you felt a stab of guilt, but you let him lead you away from Nikolai and out onto the dance floor all the same. The orchestra struck up a new tune, blending seamlessly from the last and Cillian pulled you in, one hand clasped with yours and the other at your waist. You tried to keep your eyes entirely on him, studying his features as you moved together through the steps of the dance. He was several years older than you, you determined, but not old, and he was handsome enough, with dark auburn hair and emerald green eyes. He wasn’t Nikolai, but then, no one could measure up to him in your opinion.

When the dance ended, Cillian disappeared to go and fetch you both a drink. You waited for him at the edge of the crowd, and watched as Nikolai escorted Alina out onto the dance floor. The music started up again, a slow, romantic melody and Nikolai held Alina as close as propriety would allow, one hand pressed to the small of her back. At first the two of them just swayed together in time with the music, completely caught up in each other, and then Nikolai whispered something in her ear and finally started to lead her in the dance. They moved beautifully together, perfectly in sync and suddenly you felt so sick, you couldn’t stand it. You turned on your heel, pushing your way through the crowded ballroom and towards the exit as fast as your feet would carry you.                                     - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nikolai stared steadfastly ahead as he led the guests into the ballroom, Alina on his arm. If he allowed himself to look around, he would only look for you. He stopped walking as he reached the opposite side of the room, deeming it far enough away from the door and other people to be acceptable. “You might as well look for her,” Alina said, leaning in to him, “I know you want to.” “Who?” he asked, playing dumb. “You know who,” she pressed patiently, “you should go find her and tell her how you feel.” “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice coming out entirely too high to be believable. He cleared his throat conspicuously and she gave him that knowing look again. “Oh come on,” she said, rolling her eyes, “a blind person could see that you’re in love with her.” “I’m not -“ he started automatically, but he cut himself off when Alina raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Okay, I am,” he admitted, “but I can’t tell her that. She’s my best friend.” “All the more reason to tell her,” Alina reasoned, “all the best relationships start out as friendship.” “No,” Nikolai insisted, “she doesn’t see me that way and I can’t risk losing her.” “With great risk comes great reward,” Alina shrugged, “that sounds like something Sturmhond would say, don’t you think?” “Sturmhond isn’t here,” he muttered, but a nagging voice in his head told him she was right. “Look, there she is now,” Alina said, and Nikolai couldn’t help himself. He turned his head, following her line of sight until he spotted you in your pale blue gown, talking with the same man who had held your attention at dinner. You were smiling and your cheeks were flushed as the ambassador took your hand. Before Nikolai had even had a chance to react, Alina was grasping his arm tight and dragging him through the crowd towards you, but by the time they reached you, you were already out on the dance floor. Jealousy coiled sharp and hot in Nikolai’s gut as he watched the other man hold you in his arms, moving you effortlessly across the floor. You stared into his eyes, as if he was the only person you could see and Nikolai’s heart ached. He couldn’t bare to watch and yet he found he couldn’t look away. As soon as the music ended, he pulled Alina onto the dance floor without even asking, determined to distract himself. “I can’t dance,” she hissed, clearly annoyed despite the smile fixed to her face, “I don’t know how!” He laid his hand lightly on the small of her back, helping her sway gently in time with the beat. “Sorry,” he whispered, “just let me lead, you’ll be fine.” He began to lead her through the dance, keeping his frame firm. Luckily the melody was slow and even, so it was not difficult for Alina to follow him, but he looked up just in time to see you fleeing the ballroom and then both their footsteps faltered. He murmured a hasty apology to Alina, abandoning her on the dance floor to pursue you.                                     - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You ran aimlessly until you somehow ended up at the palace gardens. You just needed to get away, couldn’t bare to witness the happy couple for another minute. The rain was pouring down in sheets, the stormy weather a perfect mirror to your emotions. You stepped out into the downpour, and instantly regretted it as the rain soaked through your gown with every step you took, but going back inside was not an option. You kept your head down and ran towards the gazebo, seeking shelter there. Water dripped down your face, mixing with your tears as you finally allowed them to fall. The sound of the rain was loud in your ears and you were so caught up in your own misery that you were taken by surprise when he spoke. “Are you ok?” Nikolai asked, “what are you doing out here?” You whirled around, finding him standing behind you under the gazebo, presumably taking shelter from the storm as you had done. He looked just as wet as you felt, his blonde curls dripping onto his forehead and the white of his shirt almost translucent in places where the rain had soaked through completely. You wiped discreetly at your tears, clearing your throat but you didn’t answer him. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. He removed his jacket, offering it up to you. “You’ll catch your death out in this storm without a coat,” he chided. When you made no move to accept it from his outstretched hand, he stepped closer, huffing impatiently and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think that’s going to do much good,” you said, and his face twisted in confusion. He looked down at the sodden garment in his hand, suddenly realizing how wet it actually was. “I suppose not,” he conceded with a chuckle. He moved to the low railing so that he could lay his jacket over it, then he leaned against it, swiping a hand through his wet hair to brush it back from his face. “What are you doing out here?” You questioned. He gave you a wry smile, “I asked you first.” “I needed a moment alone,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. He raised his eyebrows in question. Seeing you with Alina was killing me, you thought. But you couldn’t say that out loud, so instead you said, “The Kaelish ambassador proposed to me.” The lie tripped off your tongue so easily, you almost believed it yourself. Nikolai barked a surprised laugh, “Sounds like he’s had too much kvas,” he snorted, “I hope you let him down gently.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Actually, I told him I’d think about it,” you said, swallowing down your hurt. Was it really so unbelievable to him that a man could want you? “You can’t be serious?” He exclaimed, all trace of amusement suddenly gone. You shrugged your shoulders noncommittally and silence stretched between you. Nikolai scrubbed a hand over his face in apparent frustration, standing to pace uneasily. “You can’t marry him,” he said finally, his face unreadable. “Why not?” “He isn’t right for you,” he muttered. “You barely know him,” you bristled, feeling your temper begin to rise. What right did he have to decide for you? “Neither do you,” he countered. “Do you even love him?” “What does that matter? Marriage is an economic proposition,” you argued. “He’s handsome and rich, and he treats me kindly. As far as husbands go, I could certainly do much worse.” “As your friend, I am telling you that marrying him would be a mistake,” Nikolai insisted, his voice rising, “you cannot possibly be happy with a man you do not love.” “As my friend,” you spat, “you should support my choice, just as I did yours. Perhaps I do not love him now, but I will be well taken care of, and I may learn to love him in time.” Nikolai shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t believe that. I know you don’t. You’ve always wanted a love match.” “Yes well, we can’t always get what we want,” you said softly, looking away. “Not everyone can be as lucky as you and Alina.” “Alina and I are not a love match,” he frowned, “Surely you know that? Our engagement is purely a political alliance.” “Political, of course,” you huffed sarcastically. “It certainly seems that way when you’re fawning over her at every opportunity. Don’t lie to me Nikolai. You’re clearly in love with her!” “I do not fawn!” He objected angrily, “and I am not in love with Alina! How could I be, when my heart wholly belongs to you?!” You glared at him even as tears filled your eyes. “Now you’re just being cruel. To say such a thing when you know -“ you cut yourself off, your voice breaking. “When I know… what?” he demanded, moving into your personal space. Your fingers itched to reach out and touch him. You curled your hands into fists, fighting the instinct as you tilted your head back to look at him. “When you know that I’ve loved you for so long,” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to admit it, but you were so tired of pretending. “I know no such thing,” he said, his forehead creased into a frown. He lifted his hand to push your damp hair back behind your ear and the touch made you shiver, “I am a man of many talents, it’s true, but mind reading isn’t one of them.” “Don’t be glib,” you muttered, bringing your hands up to his chest, ready to shove him away but he captured your wrists, tugging you against him instead. Your heart was pounding and you were sure he could feel it. He said nothing, just searching your expression for something, and then his face lit up in a bright smile, all of his righteous anger melting away in an instant. “Saints. I’ve spent 10 years dreaming of this moment.” “Don’t,” you warned, your tone sharp, and his frown returned. “Don’t pretend to love me back, that isn’t fair.” “I’m not pretending,” he promised. You eyed him skeptically. “I love you,” he said earnestly, “I have loved you from the very first moment that we met, and in every moment since then. Every time we have been together and every time we were apart. In every look we have shared and every word we have spoken I have felt it, I have known it deep in my soul, and I cannot go another second without you knowing it too.” You stared at him, willing yourself not to cry as you tried to process his admission. You waited for him to take the words back, to laugh and say he was joking, but he didn’t. He closed his eyes briefly, his expression serious. His mouth pressed into a thin line, like he didn’t trust himself not to say more and when he opened his eyes, they were so full of love that you could scarcely believe it. Your heart soared with joy. “I love you too,” you assured him and he dipped his head to kiss you, finally, reverent and sweet. You pressed yourself against him, needing to be closer and his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up as you opened your mouth to him. His free hand went to your hair, gently pulling out the pins that held it in place, until it tumbled down around your shoulders. Later, you wouldn’t be sure if it was you or him that had turned the kiss hungry, but the shift felt so natural, like coming home, even as heat spread through you like wildfire, desperate and out of control. When your mouths finally separated, you were both breathless. You panted, trying to catch your breath and he placed a kiss below your ear before he gently sucked and nipped a line down the column of your throat and across your breasts. His clever tongue swirled over your nipple through the fabric of your gown and you gasped, arching in to him. He tugged at your neckline, seeking access to more skin and growled in frustration when it didn’t give way. You threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled him back up so that you could cover his mouth with your own again. He reached around to the back of your gown, nimble fingers making light work of the dozens of tiny buttons tracing your spine. As he reached the final button, you suddenly remembered that you were outside. It was dark, and the storm made it improbable that anyone would happen upon you out here in the gazebo, but improbable was not impossible. “Wait,” you murmured. To his credit, his hands stilled instantly, albeit reluctantly, and he raised his head to regard you. “Not here, someone might see us.” “I don’t care,” he said, his mouth returning to your throat and you struggled to recall why you were objecting. “Nikolai…” you tried again weakly. “I must have you,” he insisted, his voice rough with arousal, “I cannot wait a moment longer.” And really, how were you to argue with that? You dragged your hands down his chest, grabbing the hem of his shirt and he smiled as he lifted his arms, helping you pull it up and off over his head. When he slipped your gown from your shoulders, he sank to his knees along with it, pressing teasing kisses across your abdomen as the fabric pooled at your feet. Your hands grasped his shoulders as he lowered your underwear, baring you to him completely and a sudden wave of shyness over took you. You carded your fingers through his hair, fighting the urge to cover yourself. “Perfect,” he murmured, raising his eyes to meet yours. The desire in his gaze was so intense that it seemed to simmer in the air between you and just like that, your embarrassment dissipated. He tugged gently on your hips, urging you downward and when you joined him on the floor he tipped you backwards so that you were laying on your gown. The damp fabric was soft against your skin, cushioning your body from the unforgiving wood beneath it. Nikolai lay down beside you, propped up on one elbow and ran his free hand across your collarbone and down your side, his fingers skimming the underside of your breast, tracing your ribs and fluttering lightly over your stomach until they reached the apex of your thighs. He circled your clit, slow at first, gentle, and then gradually increased in speed and pressure as your body responded. He slipped his tongue into your mouth at the same time as he slipped a finger inside you and when you shuddered, he added another, curling them just right in a way that had you moaning his name. Your whole body felt tense, every muscle straining for release and he dipped his head to capture the dusky peak of one nipple between his teeth. The extra stimulation was all that you needed to reach your peak, and you clutched to him desperately as the wave of your orgasm crested, your core clenching around his fingers as he coaxed you through it. “Saints, you’re so beautiful when you come,” he confessed, his voice low and gravelly. You wanted to kiss him, but he seemed so far away and you still felt fuzzy, your limbs not quite under your control, so you settled for pressing a kiss to his shoulder instead. Luckily he seemed to understand what you needed, he hovered over you, careful to keep his weight off you as he claimed your mouth again, but you were impatient for more. You nipped at his bottom lip, pulling him down on to you, wanting to feel every inch of his body against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him ever closer and swallowed his gasp when his clothed arousal made contact with your center. You reached a hand between you and tugged at his laces, eager to rid him of his breeches. He rushed to help, pushing them down so he could kick them off as soon as they were untied. He settled himself between your thighs, his cock dipping between your folds almost of its own accord and you suddenly couldn’t wait to have him inside you. You watched as he lined himself up with your entrance.                                     - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nikolai pressed his forehead to yours, looking down the length of your bodies so he could watch as he entered you for the first time. The sound you made as he pushed inside was almost enough to undo him, and he had to close his eyes, fighting for control of his body. Only once he was certain he would not embarrass himself did he begin to move, burying himself in your heat only to retreat, over and over in a punishing rhythm that forced the air from his lungs and had you writhing beneath him. He groaned as you moved your own hips against him, meeting his thrusts on the downstroke, chasing your own pleasure as much as his. He straightened, raising himself up slightly so he could take you in, wanting to absorb every tiny detail of you beneath him. The way your hair was spread out around you like a halo, the pink blush that spread across your cheeks and down your chest, the perfect cupids bow of your lips, kiss swollen and cherry red. He wanted to commit the moment to memory, never wanted to forget the sight of you, sinful and gorgeous, and utterly wrecked. He lowered his head so he could nip gently at the expanse of skin just above your collarbone. You keened in response, tipping your head back to bare more of your throat to him and he felt a surge of something dark and possessive, an almost overwhelming sensation that made him want to sink his teeth in, to suck a bruise into your skin and mark you as his. But he would never do it without your permission, so settled for slanting his mouth over yours instead. He hitched your legs up higher on his waist, changing the angle slightly and allowing him to slide even deeper. You cried out as he finally hit that perfect spot inside you and he groaned. He couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made. He chased every moan, every sigh, like an addict looking for his next fix and he knew that even if he got to make love to you a million times over, it would never be enough. You were the sea and he was a sailor lost to the rip-tide, ready to drown in your depths. His hips began to lose their rhythm as he felt the first tendrils of his impending climax creeping up his spine and he was torn between the near desperate need to come and not wanting this to ever end. He slipped his hand between your sweat slick bodies to circle your clit as he worked his hips harder, determined that you should reach completion right along with him. Your nails dug in to his shoulder involuntarily as your orgasm hit you and you whispered his name like a prayer. The spike of pain only heightened his pleasure as he followed you over the edge, spilling his seed deep within you.                                     - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - You turned on to your side so that you were lying face to face, so close that your noses were touching, your limbs tangled together and sweat cooling on your skin. The rain showed no sign of stopping and you knew that you should get dressed, go back inside before you both caught a chill, but you were content to bask in the afterglow for as long as possible. Nikolai seemed to be in agreement. He made no effort to move beyond stroking his fingers up and down the length of your arm in a slow caress, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. “Marry me,” he murmured and your tender heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t know what to say, so you settled for just a slight shake of your head. Nikolai sighed dramatically.  “Before you give me your final answer, I should tell you that declining the King’s hand almost certainly counts as treason.”

“You’re already engaged,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “Not if I don’t want to be,” he said easily. “I don’t care about making a political alliance and I’m sure Alina doesn’t either. She’ll likely be relieved to be rid of me, as will her tracker.” “You’re the King,” you reminded him, “You can’t just marry whoever you want on a whim.” “Actually I can,” he smirked, looping an arm around your waist to pull you even closer. “I can do as I please, because I am the King. A perk of the position is being able to indulge all of my whims.” “We both know that’s not true. You have to do what is best for Ravka, and making a bastard orphan your Queen is not it.” “Why not? They already have a bastard King, why not complete the matching set?” he grinned. “Nikolai…” He sighed exasperatedly. “If you come up with any more objections, I’m going to get my feelings hurt.” “But your advisors -“ you argued. “Are just that, advisors. They give me advice, but I do not have to take it. In fact, I much prefer to completely ignore them whenever possible. It keeps them humble,” he winked. “Nikolai, be serious,” you admonished. “I am,” he protested, “I have never been more serious about anything in my life. I have given Ravka everything I have, I am allowed to be selfish in this. I want you and I shall have you as my wife, provided you will allow it.” Your stomach did a little flip and you bit your lip, trying not to show how affected you were by his words. “I don’t know,” you mused, your tone teasing, “I have had several offers for my hand this evening. I shall have to consider my options.” “Of course,” he agreed, nodding sagely before his smile turned wicked, “but perhaps there is something I could do to tip the balance in my favor?” He nudged you gently onto your back and shifted over you so that he could trail a path of teasing kisses across your collarbone and down the length of your body. “Mmmm” you hummed airily, pretending to think about it. You threaded your fingers through the mess of his curls as he reached the apex of your thighs. “Perhaps.”