#is imagine that current me is meeting myself at different ages | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pennyellee · 1 month ago

Text

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

1996

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just a moment longer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm no one's girl—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He touched you."

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

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

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's no go, Dad."

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

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

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

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

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

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

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Without putting your shoes on?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Smart, just like he is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But it's time to go home."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Namjoon—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let's go," he said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was waiting till you'll—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you, baby."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

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

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

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

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

"So, lunch it is then?"

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

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

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

Today feels different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Waiting—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Trust me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The calm shattered in an instant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Peaches!"

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.

751 notes · View notes

dustpages · 16 days ago

Text

PornMum 2

Six months went by and I found myself struggling with my daily life, my routine got too monotonous to be enjoyable and exciting, almost boring. I missed the thrill of my performing life, the rush of adrenaline knowing my fans would watch me in a new role. The way they would fantasise about me stroking themselves to ejaculate on their monitors.

I longed to have my colleagues desperate to perform with me, to feel their hands grabbing and kneading my body. I missed being the centre of attention, being wanted and admired by thousands of men and women.

Nothing seemed to work no matter how hard I tried to get myself busy with different activities. I ended up bored at home, questioning my current life and wondering if I had made the right choice by retiring.

The worst thing personally was not being able to vent my frustration and annoyance to my son. I loved him, but he was still too young and inexperienced to be considered my partner in the real sense.

There were things I would have loved to try with him that I knew weren't appropriate for someone his age, and that made me feel guilty and annoyed at the same time. Not just related to our sex life but also in the most mundane activities like going out at a pub or shopping were complicated if not impossible with him.

I've always loved him dearly and since we got to become bed partners, I got to love him even more if possible. But the crude reality was, that I craved more, not just physically but mentally as well. I needed stimulation and variety in all aspects of my life.

So, I ended up spending most of my days at home boring myself to death. Venting out my frustration and annoyance at him was out of the question, I was his mother first then his partner.

Guilt and remorse were eating me alive, I required finding a relief valve before going crazy and ruining my bond with him.

Considering I had plenty of spare time I found myself browsing the Internet more often than not. A dear friend of mine, who had worked in the porn industry in Europe, named Cho Miyeon had made the news to be one of the first actresses to have opened an OnlyFans account.

I got intrigued and opened her page, scrolling through her posts and pictures.

My jaw dropped when I saw how many subscribers she had gained in so short a time and the amount of money she made every month, not to mention how happy and free she seemed to be. She had found a way to balance her private and public life without the pressure of meeting deadlines imposed by producers or directors.

I pondered over the idea for the entire night and day. Could I do that? Would people subscribe to my content?

The answer was obvious, I had millions of fans following me online, and people would pay gladly to see me naked and masturbating, having sex with other men or women.

I didn't have to wait for scripts or schedules, I could create my own content. The idea thrilled me, it would allow me to have more freedom than I ever had before. I could shoot videos in my private studio and post them on the platform.

I imagined the thrill of being paid monthly for my work and having people masturbating on my videos.

The thought alone of being desired and admired made my heart race and my panties wet. I made my decision that very day, I was going to open an Onlyfans account and let my fans have access to exclusive content, and maybe even let them pay extra for custom requests.

The excitement I felt was overwhelming, I could record the video while my son was a school and post it by the time he got back.

To burst into the scene of OnlyFans, I pondered contacting Miyeon to come over and have her as a guest star for my debut. I knew people would be ecstatic to see us two together. She was known for being bisexual, and we could shoot a threesome with a hot and handsome model.

I texted her on Instagram and waited for her reply anxiously, hoping she would accept my invitation.

The next morning my son woke me up with a kiss on the lips. I smiled and welcomed him between my thighs. We had a quickie before breakfast and he headed to school. I checked my messages and found hers waiting for me.

'Of course, let’s discuss the details.'

I beamed in happiness and called her immediately. We talked on the phone for a bit and decided on the theme of the scene and that she would arrive in two weeks. I thanked her and hung up, feeling ecstatic at the prospect of going back to my roots, albeit not as I expected.

For the next couple of days, I got busy setting up my profile and contacting a model to join us for the scene. I opted for a very good-looking boy in his early twenties with a promising future ahead of him. He accepted my offer willingly.

Once I had all the logistics sorted, I began preparing for the big day. I scheduled my son to be away from home for the day, telling him he had to visit his grandparents. He was reluctant at first but gave in once he heard I had a surprise for him if he went, I promised to call him later to inform him of my plan.

I contacted the model and told him to be at my place the day before the shoot. I wanted to test him before recording a scene with Miyeon, there were too many odds that could go wrong.

At nine o'clock the doorbell rang, I opened it and was struck by how hot and gorgeous the model was. He had the je ne sais quoi that made him appealing. He bowed politely. " Nice to meet you, Mina."

I invited him to enter. " Come on, Manuel there's no need of being so polite."

I led him inside and showed him the room he could use to change and shower. Once he was comfortable, I proposed to grab a drink and have a chinwag before going down to business.

He was a true flatterer, praising me and telling me how much he enjoyed watching my movies and that he was honoured to work with me. I listened and laughed at his compliments, enjoying the company.

" I've asked you to come here a day before the actual shooting before I want to see how well we can perform together," I asserted. We've never done anything together, so I gotta make sure everything is perfect for my debut.

He smirked. " No problem here. It means I gotta have my way with you twice, just a fool would complain."

I chuckled and touched his arm. " Get naked, sweetie."

He stood up from the sofa and peeled his clothes off. I watched his every move, admiring how toned and muscular he was. His cock was long but the most impressive thing was its thickness, it looked huge and juicy, I could imagine it stretching me wide.

I licked my lips in anticipation, salivating at the mere thought of his cock filling my mouth and pussy.

Manuel was quick in disrobing me too, he took off my clothes expertly, leaving me nude on the sofa.

He knelt between my legs spreading them wide and ran his fingers up and down my inner thigh teasing me.

"You are so soft." he murmured. " So smooth."

He lowered his head and traced circles on my mound, teasing my clit with light touches. I squirmed under his touch wanting him to dive into my folds and lick me properly.

" Please." I moaned.

He chuckled and stuck out his tongue, swiping it from my hole up to my clit in one swift motion. He repeated his actions a few times before settling on my nub and sucking it.

" Ahhh!" I cried out as he devoured me hungrily, his mouth and tongue working on me like a magic spell.

I reached down and fisted my hand in his hair, urging him to continue. He moaned in pleasure from the slight pain and increased the tempo of his ministrations.

"Oh god!" I moaned. I was already so close to reaching an orgasm. I felt my body giving into the pleasure.

He sensed I was near and grabbed my hips pulling me closer to his face, sucking on me with more fervour.

I whimpered and clutched his hair tighter, unable to control my moans. My legs began to shake and my toes curled.

He growled into my flesh as I started squirting. " Ohhhh!" I screamed out, coming violently into his mouth. My orgasm was so strong that I felt my vision blurring momentarily. He licked up all the liquid dripping from my slit.

My body trembled as he continued licking me softly, bringing me down from my high. I released his hair and collapsed backwards on the sofa.

Manuel stood up and positioned himself in front of me. " Are you ready to ride this beast?" he taunted, holding his dick and stroking it.

I nodded eagerly, reaching out to grab his shaft. I leaned in and licked his head, tasting his precum. I opened my mouth wide and swallowed his length, sucking him hungrily. My hand reached down to rub his sack.

" Mmmmm, you taste divine." I hummed around his member, my throat relaxing and accepting more of his girth. He held my hair and controlled the tempo, pumping into my mouth.

I moaned from the feeling of his dick hitting the back of my throat, it was so thick that it stretched me wonderfully. He picked up speed, fucking my face roughly.

My spit dripped down my chin as he penetrated my mouth mercilessly. His movements were fast and shallow, making me choke on his length.

" Fuck yes, suck me like a good whore." he groaned. I obeyed him and sucked him greedily, eager to please. My throat constricted around his head as he slammed into it.

He let out a strangled cry and released his load down my throat, shooting ropes of hot semen into me. I gulped it all down and licked his dick clean. He pulled out of me and patted my head.

I smiled and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, removing the remaining spit from my chin. " How was that?" I asked him.

He grinned widely. " Amazing." he complimented. " You are a great cocksucker."

I laughed and kissed him passionately. " Thanks, now bend me over and fuck me." I requested.

He obliged, turning me around and pushing me on all fours. My body was still recovering from my previous climax and I knew the next one would be even stronger. I braced my palms on the armrest of the sofa and waited.

Manuel lined his cock to my entrance and pushed in. I screamed in delight from the feeling of being filled so deliciously.

He began thrusting, pushing me further on the sofa with the force of his thrusts.

" Ahhh!" I screamed as his length penetrated me deeply, my muscles squeezed around him trying to prevent him from exiting me. He didn't relent though, slamming into me brutally and hitting my G spot perfectly.

"You're so fucking tight." he moaned, his breath coming out in pants. His hands held my waist, keeping me still. His hips slammed against my buttocks.

" Harder, baby." I urged him.

His thrusts became more aggressive and violent, making me scream at every penetration.

" Fuck!" he growled, his cock pulsing inside of me. " You make me wanna cum."

" Do it." I demanded. He grabbed my hair, arching my back and making me go even deeper. He released my ponytail and grabbed my tits from behind, kneading them roughly.

I felt myself nearing my climax and I rubbed myself on his cock. " I'm gonna cum!" I screamed.

His thrusts turned erratic. My body shuddered, my pussy squirted out all over his shaft and my inner walls contracted around him, my toes curled in pleasure. " As we agree, you are not allowed to cum inside of me" I made myself clear in the middle of a torrent of moans and screams.

He didn't answer me verbally but his hips stilled and he pulled out of me, releasing himself all over my back in thick white ropes of sperm.

I collapsed on the sofa panting. " That was great." I praised him. He panted above me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

We rested for a while, recovering from our exertions before parting ways, he grabbed his things and left for his hotel. I went to my room and took a shower, calling my son afterwards.

"How are you, baby?" I asked.

He sounded ill, he sneezed and coughed before uttering a single word. " Not so good mum, but I can manage myself."

Another cough interrupted him and my worry rose. I knew him well enough to understand he wouldn't tell me if something was bothering him. " Where are you?" I insisted. " If you aren't feeling well, I can pick you up."

" Mum, don't stress it." he replied.

I sighed, feeling frustrated at not being able to do anything for him. " Alright, I'll trust your judgment. Call me if you need something. And don't forget to take your medicine."

He huffed but promised me to do as told and hung up. I stared at my screen with a mix of emotions, worried about him and sad he wasn't at home. I knew it couldn't be helped, but it still made me feel bad. I decided to focus on the upcoming day, hoping Miyeon would distract me from my thoughts.

I slept soundly and woke up early the next morning, eager to prepare everything for the day ahead. I made sure all the cameras were working properly and the lighting was good, I didn't want any mishaps on the first day.

I had already sent Miyeon the script of the scenario, she had studied it thoroughly and was aware of what she had to do.

I dressed in the outfit I had chosen and styled my hair accordingly. I paced nervously waiting for them to arrive.

Manuel showed up first, greeting me warmly and wishing me luck for the scene. He changed into his costume and came back wearing only a thong. I salivated at the sight of his bulge, eager to have him inside of me once more.

Miyeon arrived ten minutes later, looking stunning in her outfit. She hugged me tightly. " Long time no see!"

I reciprocated the hug. " I know, I'm glad you could come." I replied. " I've been missing you."

" Same here." she answered. " But we'll catch up after the shoot."

I nodded. " Let's get started then." I led them to the living room and explained the scene.

Scene is a big word to describe the three of us indulging in a threesome, exploring each other's bodies with hunger and passion.

" Keep going, you are so deep." I urged. " Don't stop."

Manuel slammed into me from behind, his cock hitting my cervix every time he bottomed out into me. His hands gripped my waist tightly, keeping me still.

I whimpered at his ministrations, his thrusts were relentless and merciless. His sack slapped against my butt with every penetration, making me feel naughty and slutty. I squeezed his dick with my inner walls.

" Yes!" I shouted. " Like this! Faster!"

His hips snapped against my backside as he increased the speed of his thrusts, fucking me like a wild animal. He grunted in pleasure from my tightness.

Miyeon watched us avidly, her eyes shining brightly with desire. Her fingers played with her clit drenching her thighs adorned with black stockings.

I had no idea when I started cumming, the only thing I was aware of was that it didn't seem to stop. I came over and over again, squirting all over his length and my thighs.

" Remember not to cum inside." I reminded him.

" Alright, I'm gonna use that pretty mouth of yours to cum." he responded.

He pulled out my cunt and turning me around penetrated my mouth. I welcomed his length gladly, eager to swallow his load.

Miyeon came closer and reached between his legs, massaging his sack and stroking his perineum. His thrusts stilled suddenly. " Ahhh!" he shouted as he erupted into my mouth, flooding me with his salty seed. I swallowed it all greedily.

Manuel pulled out of my mouth and put Miyeon between his arms, lifting her and impaling her onto his dick. She moaned at the feeling of him entering her.

I watched them in awe, their bodies fitted perfectly together. She bounced on him with ease, using his shoulders to push herself up and down his length.

His hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them roughly. She cried out in pleasure and threw her head back, letting her brown locks flow freely on her back. I licked my lips imagining how delicious her body must taste.

Her movements became frantic as she neared her climax. She scratched his shoulders and dug her nails into his flesh.

" Yes, cum for me." he encouraged. " Squeeze my cock with your little pussy."

She came quivering in his arms, screaming out his name. He kept thrusting into her, prolonging her pleasure. I came again from the sight of them, rubbing my clit and imagining being in her place.

Manuel lowered her to the floor in a variant of the missionary position. He drove into her forcefully, not stopping for even a second. He fucked her ruthlessly, chasing his climax.

Her breasts jiggled from the force of his thrusts and she moaned loudly. Her fingernails clawed at his arms as he pounded her like a machine.

" You are going to make me cum!" she cried out, her legs trembling uncontrollably.

He growled at her words and increased the speed of his hips. " Fucking do it."

Miyeon came screaming, her muscles contracting around his dick. He let out a final grunt and shot his load all over her belly.

I applauded them and they laughed, still panting from their exertions. " Thank you." I expressed my gratitude. " You've been amazing."

They thanked me in return and we all got cleaned and Manuel bid his goodbye, leaving me and my friend alone.

I heard my phone ringing from the kitchen where I left it to charged. I had 14 missed calls from my father and a few from my mother.

"What the hell Mina." my father shouted through the phone. " I've tried to call you nonstop."

I was confused and scared at the same time. " What happened?" I asked, dread creeping up my spine.

"Your son." he stated.

A chill ran through me at his words. I felt as if I had been punched in the gut, my lungs refused to expand and breathe. " What? Tell me!"

" He has pneumonia." my dad said gravely. " Your mother took him to the hospital when he passed out in the garden."

I felt dizzy and disoriented, tears began to stream down my face. " Is he fine?" I asked. " I want to speak to him."

" He is sleeping right now." he told me. " He'll wake up tomorrow probably."

I sniffed loudly. " Tell me what to do." I implored him. " I'll drive over to the hospital right now."

"No, Mina." he refused firmly. " The fewer people are in the hospital the better it is for your son. I'll keep you updated on his condition."

I thanked him and hung up, sobbing openly. I felt a pair of arms encircling me and collapsed against them, letting them comfort me.

" Don't worry Mina." Miyeon soothed me. " He will recover. You'll be with him in no time."

I clung to her desperately, seeking solace and reassurance. Miyeon was a pure angel with me during the night, she cuddled me to sleep in her arms.

As the sun beamed Miyeon drove me to the hospital, I couldn't bear to be apart from my son anymore. We entered the room and found him sleeping, looking pale and frail.

My father stood up from his chair. " Go ahead." he told me, offering me the seat.

I sat next to the bed and took my baby's hand in mine. " I love you." I whispered in his ear. " Always remember that."

My mother joined us in the room shortly after. She brought breakfast for everyone and we ate in silence.

After a while, my son opened his eyes slightly, smiling at seeing me next to him. I kissed his forehead and caressed his cheeks.

" Hi, mum." he croaked weakly. I shushed him, telling him to save his energy.

" Hopefully your last 24 hours have been more fun than mine." he commented with a dark huff, noticing Miyeon.

I chuckled. " Well, it depends on how you define fun." I answered mysteriously. " Do you want to meet my friend?"

" You are making him speak too much, leave the room." my mother reprimanded me.

Shamefaced, I left the room along with Miyeon, who was amused by the situation. We chatted for a bit and eventually, she said goodbye to me, promising to keep in touch.

I returned to my son's room, sitting next to him and talking softly with him, careful not to exhaust him. He was discharged from the hospital two days later. We returned home and he was confined to his bed for a week.

I spoiled him rotten, doing whatever it took to make him feel better.

One afternoon he woke up and found me scrolling through my phone, I had taken him in my bed to stay close to him. He looked at me curiously. " What are all these notifications about?"

I had uploaded the video of the threesome on my OnlyFans and since then my phone has been bombarded with notifications and messages.

" Just some fans." I dismissed him.

He looked unconvinced at my answer. " Give me your phone." he demanded.

I handed him my mobile and he unlocked it. " Why do you have this app?" he questioned me, referring to the Onlyfans icon.

He tapped on it, opening the app, his eyes widening in surprise. " You made an Onlyfans account."

I was caught red-handed, I hadn't anticipated that he would be interested in my phone and check on my apps.

" That's correct." I affirmed.

He browsed the app focusing on the comments sections. I winced inwardly knowing they would be explicit. I could read the surprise in his eyes when he scrolled through the comments.

" These guys want to fuck you." he concluded.

I laughed at his statement. " That's the main purpose of the app."

" So why are you on it?"

I took a deep breath, preparing for a fight. " I got bored staying home and doing nothing all day." I explained. " This allows me to perform without the pressure of a director or producer."

He closed the app and looked at me gravely. " Have you shot scenes already?" he asked me, sounding hurt.

I nodded in affirmation, not daring to look at him. He sighed deeply and rolled out of the bed.

" I'm delusional." he affirmed.

" Why?" I asked confused.

" Because I thought I could be enough for you." he answered.

" Baby, you are enough for me, this doesn't change anything between us." I assured him.

He scoffed at my words. " You just said that you got bored." he argued. " So obviously you needed something else."

" It's different." I defended myself.

" Dicks, money, visibility on the internet." he listed. " All the same as before, you just do it on your own without the control of a production, of doctors, agents and managers." he concluded.

His words stabbed me in the heart, he had nailed it on the spot. I was seeking attention and adoration putting my body on display to anyone willing to pay for it.

" Maybe." I agreed. " I wanted to experience something different."

He shook his head, disappointment evident in his expression. " You never listen to me. You do what you want regardless of my opinion."

I sighed, feeling defeated. I realized that he was right, I had acted selfishly not caring about his feelings.

" What do you want me to do?" I asked. " Delete the account?"

He coughed deeply, wincing from the effort. "T-the account isn't the actual problem." he acknowledged. " You are more talented than selling videos and photos to strangers."

I had never seen him so serious with me. It made me feel awful to know I was the cause of his sadness.

"I'll do what you say." I promised, willing to fix my mistake.

" It's not about me making decisions for you, we are family and family comes first." he asserted. " You have an angelic voice when you moan, you could be a decent singer if only you would."

I blushed, he had a point on that. " Are you suggesting to use my fanbase to start a music career?" I asked.

He shrugged. " At least you wouldn't sell your body."

I chewed on my bottom lip, pondering his suggestion. " I could begin uploading cover videos of my favourite songs on YouTube."

" Indeed. You will have the acclamation and recognition of your fans, closing a chapter of your life and pursuing a new adventure." he resonated.

I looked at him fondly. " Baby, you should be proud of your intelligence."

He smiled at my words, his eyes shining in amusement. " I am your partner, remember?" he teased. "I must support you."

I chuckled. " Come here." I spread my arms and pressed him to my bosom.

"I love you." he whispered against my skin.

" And I love you too." I confirmed, running my fingers through his hair. " More than anything."

" I've been longing to take you for too many days now." he asserted with a voice full of lust.

I giggled at his confession, feeling the heat of his arousal pressing against my thigh. I slipped my hand under his boxers and caressed his growing cock, he groaned at my touch.

"You'll have to wait until you recover fully." I denied him.

" Your honey will cure all my illness." he taunted me. " Besides, I've been fantasizing about fucking your throat for far too long now."

My pussy clenched at his words, I loved hearing him dirty talk. He reached between my legs and pushed my panties aside. " You are wet, aren't you?" he murmured.

I nodded, my cheeks flushed from his ministration. He slid two fingers inside of me, making me shiver in pleasure.

" Beg me." he ordered. His finger reached my G spot, making me squeal from the sensitivity.

" Please, baby." I moaned.

His hand withdrew from my body and he smirked at me, showing me my juices coating his fingers. " Say it properly."

I whimpered at the loss of his touch. " Please, I want you to fuck me."

He pushed his fingers back and pumped in earnest. " That's what I wanted to hear."

His digits curled and assaulted my G-spot, making my muscles contract around them. I cried out in delight, my body trembled from the pleasure.

" You are a naughty girl aren't you?" he taunted. His fingers stilled for a few seconds before resuming their assault. " Cum for me."

I sobbed, unable to control my climax, I felt myself falling over the edge of ecstasy. I came hard around his fingers, soaking his palm.

He removed his hand from my cunt and sucked on his fingers greedily. " Mmmm." he praised my flavour. " You taste divine."

I watched him lick my juices and I shivered at the thought of him eating my pussy. He noticed my gaze. " Do you wish me to eat your pussy?" he questioned.

I nodded vigorously. " Yes."

" Then spread your legs for me." he ordered me.

I hastened to comply, pushing my thighs apart. He positioned himself between them and lowered his mouth to my slit, inhaling deeply and devouring me hungrily. His tongue swiped my entrance up to my clit and flicked it softly.

My thighs trembled at the intensity of his ministration, his tongue was gentle but firm at the same time, sending sparks of electricity down my spine and heating my blood.

"Ahhh!" I moaned, clutching the sheets tightly. My hips lifted on their own accord, eager for more of his tongue.

His fingers parted my folds wider and he attacked my clit furiously, sucking and licking it relentlessly. My toes curled from the pleasure and my nipples pebbled.

I was already close to my climax when he stopped torturing my bud and plunged his tongue inside of me. I keened loudly at the sensation of him penetrating me with his tongue.

He fucked me with his mouth, laving my insides and lapping at my juices. My pussy clenched around his tongue, trying to prevent it from exiting me.

His finger replaced his tongue, plunging into me and finding my G spot once more. He assaulted it without mercy, making me scream in pleasure.

I came again, my vision blurred and my muscles tensed up. I lost count of how many times he made me climax, all I knew was that my pussy was sore and sensitive but eager for more of him.

When I opened my eyes, he was standing before me with his boxers on the floor and his erection proudly in front of my face. I reached out and licked his length tentatively, tasting the saltiness of his precum.

He caressed my cheeks. " Do you want it done nicely or brutally?" he questioned.

I smiled widely, feeling mischievous. " Brutally." I opted for the second option.

He laughed at my choice. " Open your mouth wide." he instructed.

I did as told and he pushed into me until his length hit the back of my throat. " Swallow me." he commanded, pushing deeper.

I gagged slightly at the sudden intrusion but he didn't stop. He grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth roughly, his balls hitting my nose. Tears streamed down my face and saliva dribbled from my chin, I struggled to accommodate him.

" Good god, Mina.” he praised. " Take all of me."

He rammed into me without care, his thrusts becoming more vicious every time he penetrated my throat. I gagged loudly, unable to breathe properly.

He slapped my cheeks lightly. " Breathe through your nose." he advised.

I took a lungful of air and exhaled slowly, managing to calm myself. He held my head still and fucked my mouth mercilessly, his balls slapping my nose. I felt him pulsing inside of me and tasted his precum dripping into my mouth.

" I'm gonna cum." he announced.

I prepared myself for the torrent of sperm that would flood my mouth soon. He shoved me deeper into his groin and released his seed into me. I swallowed greedily, eager to taste him. His cum was salty and delicious, I drank him like a thirsty man in the desert.

His thrusts stilled as he emptied himself inside of me completely. I licked his length clean and he pulled out of my mouth gently.

I lay on the bed exhausted, he lay beside me and cuddled me tightly. " How was it?" I asked.

" Perfect." he purred satisfied. " You are such a good girl, swallowing me like that." he complimented.

I smiled at his words. " You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." I confessed.

He snuggled against me and whispered in my ear. " I love you."

I reciprocated his sentiment, holding him tighter. I had found my haven and safe space within his arms and was determined never to let him go.

" Brace yourself, baby, I'll ride you like in a rodeo." I straddled him and sunk onto his erection.

He gripped my hips and pulled me down on his length, impaling me fully. I gasped from the feeling of being split open. He slapped my ass and ordered. " Move."

I lifted my body and sank back down slowly, adjusting to his size. My pussy adjusted slowly to his thickness and I began riding him faster.

"You like that huh?" I panted, feeling exhilarating pleasure from having him fill me.

He grunted in response, too focused on fucking me to be able to answer verbally. He held me steady and pistoned into me furiously. My tits bounced wildly with every thrust.

" Yes! Like that." I cried. My body shuddered from the strength of my climax. My orgasm was powerful and intense, it made my limbs tremble and my mind went blank.

My muscles contracted around his length, squeezing him deliciously. He let out a strangled groan from my tightness and I felt his hot seed coating my insides.

We came down from our highs slowly, holding each other and exchanging kisses and sweet whispers.

This was the beginning of a new era for us. I knew we still had plenty of hurdles to overcome, but I was sure we would face them together and emerge victorious.

#twice smut #twice x reader #twice mina x male reader #kpop fanfic #kpop x male reader #twice mina

452 notes · View notes

lowkeyerror · 11 months ago

Text

The Family Business Ch.3

WandNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Notes: Mentions of death, violence, underaged drinking, slight mentions of SA, lisichka=little fox

Summary: Natasha has heard stories of you from Wanda. It has her doubting your current day skill level. With Dragos and Wanda in a meeting, you get the chance to tell her a bit about the person you've become.

An: Finally something between Y/n and Natasha (I say finally as if this isn't chapter 3 lol) Anyway enjoy this chapter and see you back next week.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You could feel Natasha’s eyes on you as you worked. It was tedious work, but you typed away with a smile on your face regardless. You thought that maybe she’d pick up her phone or something, but she seemed to just watch you.

“You want to ask me something or you just going to keep staring?” You kept your eyes on the computer screen as you addressed her.

“You’re different than Wanda said you’d be,” was all that she said.

You finally looked at the red head, “Well like I said, it’s been a while since she has seen me. A lot has changed in the years she’s been gone.”

“Like what?”

You paused your work to give Natasha your full attention. You sat back fully in your chair pondering back to the last time you saw Wanda. “Well, she left before I graduated. Back then I thought I was going to take my degrees, find an honest job, and live a normal life. I was fragile, even after the self-defense training. I hadn’t held a gun, I hadn’t hacked into anything, I was just a little girl.”

“And now?”

You gesture around you, “Now, I have this nice office. I crunch numbers for the most high-profile company in town, that just happens to be a front for a criminal organization. I have 2 degrees, I can defend my family and myself, I’ve shot a gun more times than I can count, and I could hack into anything that you could imagine.”

“You’ve got a ledger?” The line about the gun seemed to stick out to Natasha.

You shrug your shoulders, “I’ve carried my weight.”

“How many?”

The question startles you a bit. It was so candid as if she was asking about the weather. You could see them, the people you had killed. It wasn’t a large number, not even in the double digits, but still.

“7.” You don't know what compelled you to keep speaking,” I remember all of them. What is it they say about the first one? You will never forget it. I was 20, it was before I joined the organization. Pietro had dragged me to some party.”

“I take it you weren’t a party animal back then?”

You chuckle and shake your head, “Not even a little so I did what everyone does to get comfortable at a party. I took a few shots, it was stupid. As a light weight and someone not of legal drinking age, I should've been more careful. The shots had loosened me up, so I was enjoying the party for awhile. I lost Pietro at some point, but I was too drunk to notice.”

You see Natasha frown a bit, but you continue, “The host of party finds me on the dance floor. We dance for a while; we don't say much, just hi. Someone spilled a drink on me while we were dancing. He offered to get me a new shirt. Like the innocent little idiot I was, I followed him up to his room.”

You paused, almost feeling like you were back in that moment. You could feel everything again, your skin was hot and sweaty, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, you could feel him on you.

Natasha could sense she lost you to the memory. She got up from the couch in your office to make her way towards you. She took a seat on the edge of your desk and pulled your hands into hers. “What happened in his room?”

“He tried to take advantage of me. He tore my shirt off just so his gross hands could grope my skin. He pulled me against him fiddled with his belt before trying mine. His breath was hot on my neck as he peppered kisses on my collarbone. When his hand slipped into my pants, is when it really clicked in my head. I had told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. You know the kind of guys that say, ‘you want this’ or ‘you teased me all night’ or ‘You’re the one half naked in my room’. He was one of those, no wasn’t going to cut it.”

Natasha squeezes your hand as you recount the harsh memory. It looks like you could cry right there in the office. Then all of a sudden, the tears pooling in your eyes are gone. A blank expression takes over your face.

“For a minute, I pretend I’m into what this creep is doing to me. Only enough for him to loosen his grip on me. At this point my back was against his front. I reach behind his head, like my arms trying to loop to bring him closer. Except one of my hand rests on top of his head and the other one is on the opposite side of his jaw. I snapped his neck. His body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.”

“Y/n- “

“I threw up when I saw him. After I was done, I called Pietro, he found me upstairs with the body. He felt so guilty for leaving me, but I could tell he was surprised too. So surprised that fragile little Y/n had snapped someone’s neck.”

Natasha’s eyes bored into yours, “That asshole deserved that. He deserved worse.”

“He didn’t rest even in death. Dragos made sure of it. He made that family’s life a living hell. It was a message to the entire city that I was under their protection. If anyone so much as laid a finger on me there would be dire consequences.”

A silence filled the room. Natasha didn't remove her hand from yours and you didn't ask her too. You glanced back at your computer, knowing you had to finish your work.

“Wanda never said you were fragile, just delicate,” Natasha’s fingers drew patterns on your hand.

You shake your head, “Wanda has always had a way with turning something negative into a positive. I never saw the difference between the two words, but she’d always say- “

“Fragile things break quickly into millions of pieces under the slightest pressure,” Natasha starts as if she had been there when Wanda said it to you.

“If you were fragile, you wouldn’t be here with us. You’re delicate, beautiful, intricate, and deserve to be handled with care,” you finish with a fond smile on your lips.

“For what it’s worth, I think she was right,” Natasha returns to her space on the couch to allow you to keep working.

She finally pulls out her phone seeming to have relaxed a bit because of your vulnerability. You want to refocus on work, but there are some questions that are nagging you about the woman in your office.

“How did you two meets? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Natasha ponders a minute for a suitable answer, and you take note of it, “The short version is that we met at work.”

You raise an eyebrow, “And what did you do for work?”

“Guess.”

You let your eyes look over the woman. You took in her relaxed posture, the muscles hiding under her shirt, the way she allowed you to be vulnerable with her, the mischievous glint in her eye. She was a multifaceted woman, you could tell.

“Spy, a Russian spy to be exact.”

Natasha seems slightly surprised, “How’d you guess Russian?”

“Romanoff sounds suspiciously close to Romanov, common last name in old Russia.”

“You’re a smart lisichka aren’t you?”

A blush takes over your features, “Little fox is new, but you’re stalling, Natasha.”

She crosses her arms across her chest, “Well I was formerly spy, turned into assassin for hire. I was anonymously hired to kill Wanda.”

“Too charming to kill?”

Natasha sighs, “I tried, but she was just too good. We started this rivalry, playful banter, suggestive tones, I spent a lot of time trapped under her thighs. It got to the point where I didn’t want to kill her, I had terminated the contract, but I just kept coming around to see her. She told me that my skills were being wasted on petty assassinations, when I could be working for her. I said the only way I’d consider was if she went out with me. The rest is history.”

“Leave it to Wanda to seduce an assassin.”

Natasha laughs, “Hey, she only seduced me because I let her.”

“Whatever you say super spy. I’ve got to finish this work before we have to leave for dinner.”

“Flora might have your head if you show up late,” Natasha comments.

You press the small button on your desk, “Thanks for reminding me. Kate, do you think you could get me some hydrangeas for Mrs.Maximoff.”

“Of course, Y/nn, anything for you,” she responds cheerfully.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks Katie.”

With that you're back to working. Though Natasha pulls out her phone, you still feel her eyes on you at time. It sends shivers up your spine, yet you don't want her to stop looking.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat #pietro maximoff

487 notes · View notes

reidmotif · 1 year ago

Text

Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different.

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age.

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again.

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit.

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out.

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets.

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be, the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular, but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom.

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again.

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide.

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known.

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.”

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion.

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.”

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions.

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself. “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic.

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion.

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated.

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?”

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.”

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong.

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips.

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her.

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft.

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.”

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say, but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile.

“You waited.” She says, softly.

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling.

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought.

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets.

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar.

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her.

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand.

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away.

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.”

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth.

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice.

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words.

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly.

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.”

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that.

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me.

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says.

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later.

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.”

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says.

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me. And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious.

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart.

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.”

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs.

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her.

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.”

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.”

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

“6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.”

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.”

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely.

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup.

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there.

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here?

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?”

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly.

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze.

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine.

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was.

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one.

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such.

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-”

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine.

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.”

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan.

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want.

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion.

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly.

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before.

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-”

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine.

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us.

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me.

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her.

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her.

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.”

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out.

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut.

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her.

“What about?”

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly.

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her.

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers.

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one.

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #dr spencer reid

802 notes · View notes

selfloverrrrrr · 17 days ago

Note

AMAZING!! hey lil ma😍😍I have a REQUEST..SMT LIKE yn has been working as a manager/secretary to her childhood bully gojo while he desperately tries get her attention for months and finally losses it one night when yn was working overtime in his office/place noncon ofcourse THATS ALL I'm really curious how you'll do it❤️❤️nd I really love the way to write I read all your oneshots😭😭🙏🙏OMG SO GOOD ND HAVE A NICE DAYY

I'm sorry if I'm too late 😭

Overtime~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

"this is the company? This office is really so huge" I asked. "Yes.... and best of luck" Shoko said. "You think they'll take me for the job? I'm so nervous" I replied. "Chill, girl.... don't be so nervous! I know you're capable of this. Thik about the money they'll pay then you won't be dealing with any problem" she replied placing a hand on my shoulder.

She's right. I really need money that's why I'm searching for a job. I've paid for my rent for almost three months. Shoko is making me food every day so I can save some money. But how many days can I go like this? Shoko is the one who told me about this company who is currently taking interviews for the secretary position. If I pass this my all problems will be solved.

I looked at her and smiled. "Okay...see you after the interview" I said and went out of the car. "Ok bye... I'll be waiting in the parking lot" she said and turned the. I took a deep breath and went inside the building. Some people were coming out of that building. "Gosh that CEO is so rude. Why is he so rude?!" They were talking with each other. What does they mean rude??? I'm sure I won't get this job.After waiting for almost 30 minutes they called me inside. I went inside the room. That room was as luxurious as the whole office.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU STILL COULDN'T FIND HER???? IT'S LITERALLY 3 FUCKING YEARS YOU ALL ARE WORKING TO FIND HER.... AND YOU STILL COULDN'T?! YOU ALL ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES!!!! MEET ME TODAY" I saw a tall guy yelling at his phone. He seems like the CEO. There were few workers in that room but I can tell by his dressing that he's the CEO. I couldn't see his face since he's facing the window. And why is he yelling at someone like that. Gosh I'm dead...he is literally so rude. He ended the call. "Who's next?" He asked annoyingly and then turned around. And we both froze.

Gojo's POV

Those damn dumbs.... can't even stalk properly?! Can't find a girl in the whole japan?! Y/n was in my college. She left the city just because I bullied her? How dare she? After graduation I haven't seen her. I tried to ignore the feelings I felt but I couldn't. I controlled myself for 2 years. But after that I hired some people to find where she lives and those idiots still couldn't find?! And on the other hand the annoying interview is going on. I ended the call then turned around.

And my eyes widened and I almost froze there. Is that y/n? Am I seeing right? She came to give interview?! Fuck.... I'm not dreaming right??? So it was in both of our fates? So I wasn't doing anything wrong? If our fate made this that really means she is mine...or maybe I've to make her mine? firstly I've been sure that she's y/n and not her lookalike. From her expressions I'm 99% sure she's y/n.

I sat on my chair. "So what's your name?" I asked. I can tell she's nervous. "I'm.... I'm y/n....y/n l/n" she replied. I couldn't hold back my smirk. After all those years I finally found her? And like this? Never imagined. And..... she's feeling uncomfortable. "So why do you want this job?" I asked. "I really need money.... I can't pay for my rent for months" she replied.

"okay give me your qualifications" I said. She handed me a file. My eyes scanned over the documents. "Hmm... okay. Gotta boyfriend?" I asked. "Huh?" She was shocked. "I mean I don't want destruction for my secretary" I said. "Oh...no. I don't have a boyfriend" she replied. RELIEF. "Okay... join from tomorrow and yuta? Tell the other interviews to go back" I said.

Y/n's POV

I left the room. My heart felt like it's gonna burst. Wtf did just happened?! The CEO is Gojo?! The guy who made me cry my whole childhood till the college? And now he just hired me as his secretary?! Fuckkkkkkk too much happened today. I don't have any other choice I have to do this job. I really need money. I sighed loudly and went to the parking lot.

"what happened?" Shoko asked as I entered the car. "I'm selected" I replied with a smile. My head was hurting so much so I thought not to tell her everything now. "That's great!!! I'm so happy! Today we're gonna order so many foods" she said and started the car. "Yes yes sure" I replied and we both went to her house.

After a month

After joining the company nothing really happened. Which I thought was surely gonna happen but it didn't. And I'm glad that it didn't happen. Work was going well. Gojo didn't spoke about any of those old days. It's almost one month passed. I was checking the files in Gojo's office when my phone rang. I checked my phone it was Shoko.

I picked up the call and put it on speaker while checking the files. "Hello?" I said. "What are you doing madam?" She asked. "What else other than doing these boring shits?" I said and we both laughed. "But I'm happy that you got this job....or else I was almost ready to find a sugar daddy" she said. "Yes a hot sugar daddy" I said and we both laughed.

I suddenly heard a scoff. I turned around and saw Gojo standing there. "Shoko I'll call you later" I said and hung up the call. "When did you come back, sir?" I asked. "When you said to your friend that you're doing some shitty work here" he replied. I cursed myself under my breath. I should look at my surroundings before saying things. "I.... It wasn't like that... I wasn't talking about your works-" before I could complete my sentence he cut off my sentence.

"yeah I know what you meant" he said and smirked. Fuck! I think my work is gone now. "Anyways I was saying we have a meeting tomorrow with the other company ceos you remember that?" He asked. Oh he's not throwing me out? Thank God! "Yes... yes sir I do remember" I replied. "Okay so make sure the files are ready and you have to do overtime after the meeting tomorrow okay?" He asked. "Yeah it's fine" I replied.

Gojo's POV

The next day

The CEO of other companies arrived. The meeting was about to start. We sat on our seats. I noticed that Sukuna was looking at y/n. I rolled my eyes. The meeting started. And he's still staring at her?! Tf does he want?! He has a secretary as well...why is he looking at mine?! WAIT! DID HE JUST LOOKED AT HER THIGHS?! those are mine to stare at. I can't blame that short skirt will make anyone stare but he shouldn't!!!

The meeting ended. Suguru Geto aka my best friend and CEO of another company came to me. We shook hands and we were talking. I looked away for a bit and I saw Sukuna approaching y/n. He went to her and called her. She turned around and gave him a smile. he offered a hand to shake. She took his hand. And suddenly HE HUGGED HER?! She doesn't look like she was expecting that. I went to them and called Sukuna.

"yo... Sukuna" I said. He looked at me and let go of her. "Yeah" he replied and came towards me. I offered a hand and he took it. I pressed his hand tightly. "Don't even look at her" I said with grinded teeth then let go of his hand. He looked at his now red hand then at me. Then smirked. "Well that's was a new way to say hello but okay.... gonna see you later and her as well" he said and they all went out. I clenched my jaw.

In the evening

We both reached my house. She has overtime today. My private office is just beside my bedroom. I told her to go there and I went to the bathroom to wash my face. My mind was replying Sukuna hugging y/n. I just can't stand it... she's fucking mine can't he just understand?!. I went out and went to the office and sat on the couch. She was standing beside the table and was checking some files on the table. And I was behind her.

She slightly bend over to see the files. Fuck....bend a little more lemme see what is mine. "Three products came for collaboration. One of them is beer. So I already declined that. You said you don't want to collaborate with any alcoholic product that's why" she said. "Hmmm..." I replied and my concentration was still on her ass.

"and then a Condom company. They said they made stretchable condoms which will fit everyone. And then a perfume company claiming that their perfume lasts more than 14 hours" she said. "Hmm" I replied. "If you agree I'll send it to the test then we can collaborate with them" she said. I stood up and walked towards her whose back was still facing me.

Y/n's POV

I was putting down the file from my hand when I almost tripped over the table from a force from my back. I turned around my head and saw Gojo standing there. His front pressed against my back. "What were you talking with Sukuna?" He asked. "What?" I asked. "I SAID WHAT WERE YOU TAKING WITH SUKUNA?!" He screamed. I got nervous. "N-Nothing.... h-he was saying h-he liked my outfit then hugged me all of a sudden " I replied.

"you're not lying?" Gojo asked. "N-No sir...i-I'm not" I replied. My heart pumping loudly. He smirked and made me turn around. "You know y/n... I miss those days..." He said and pressed his crotch against my thigh. "I really really reallyyyyyy miss your screams" he said. Then I felt his hand reaching underside of my breast. I stopped his. "G-gojo P-Please" I said. I felt like I'm going to cry.

"one touch and sir became Gojo?" He asked with a smirk. "G-gojo P-Please don't" I said. "You know what...." He said and picked up the sample condom from the table "why should I send it on test when I can test it myself" he said and chuckled. "No no no please" I cried out. He picked me up on his shoulder and took me to his bedroom. Then threw me on the bed.

He started undoing his shirt flexing his toned body. "Gojo please.... you're out of your mind" I said. He crawled towards me then pinned me underneath him. "Now you gonna tell me what to do?" He asked grabbing my chin roughly. His nails digging into my skin. I started crying. "ANSWER ME!" He ordered. I shook my head left and right. "N-No" I replied. "Then you should shut the fuck up" he said and I sobbed.

He pressed his lips on mine. Kissed me roughly. Forcing me to open my mouth and then pushing his tongue inside. Exploring my mouth. He bit on my lower lip. The giving open mouthed kisses from jaw to collarbone. Leaving hickeys all over. And the thing haunting me was his laugh. The evil laugh he's laughing. He sat up then grabbed his shirt and tore it off.

"g-gojo P-Please please don't" I cried and Tried to cover me. But he grabbed my hands and pushed them apart. "Do you remember the day you came for the interview and I was screaming on my phone? That I hired some people to find someone but they couldn't?" He asked. "I was talking about you....I hired them to find you and you know why?" He asked and brought his face close to mine.

"because I'm soooo fucking obsessed with you" he said then smirked again. I was scared instead of shocked because I know that's gonna make my life a nightmare.He took off my bra. I tried to protest but nothing happened. He looked at my boobs with lust in his eyes and didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensation.

Then he took off my pantie."you look better without it" he whispered and then looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " so wet. You naughty little slut, I'm sure you were imagining your boss doing dirty things with you ~". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pants.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " G-gojo no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. Why was this happening with me?! I shouldn't have accepted to work in his office in the first place! He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself.

With a few more thrusts I came. He looked at me and smirked. "You liked it huh?" He asked and laughed. He was still thrusting roughly. "Gojo please" I sobbed. I was through my legs trying to stop him. But he seemed like he was liking it so much. His thrust became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and "look you saying you don't want this and already going to cum again before me"he whispered. He started rubbing my clit with his thumb again and my fell back moaning loudly his name. And that's what he was waiting for.

I came again. Shame grabbed me all over. I looked away and couldn't even look at him. "Awww is someone ashamed?" He asked. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside..." I moaned. He looked down at me. " Call me daddy.... say that it feels so good... and maybe I won't cum inside" He said while thrusting. I sobbed looking at him. He spanked me"come on...you can do better " he said. "I-It feels so good... daddy" I whispered to him. He kissed me and whispered"good girl". But he didn't pull out. His thrust became harder. "W-wait...you said you'll pull out" I said. "I said maybe" he whispered with a smirk. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out.

"huhhhh... fuck I always knew you would feel so good. Those porn videos weren't working. Of course those weren't you.... I don't know how those stupids jerk off using those.... but who cares? I got you permanently " he said with a smirk look at my teary face.

Give me your requests guys...

I love when you give me your requests 💕

113 notes · View notes

thesummerstorms · 14 days ago

Text

So all that is canonically defined about Viago's relationship with Rook is (paraphrasing):

He is the current Talon of their House

He sent them away with Varric when they fucked up and told them to treat it like a contract six months later

Addresses them as idiot but also tells them not to die.

And not just not to die but "Don't get careless out there. Don't fail, and don't get yourself killed, or I will come after you in the Fade myself. " Which does imply a certain level of gruff affection.

In a similar vein, Rook and Viago have similar banter ("Don't die, Viago would kill me", "Don't embarrass House de Riva", "Rook stop getting hit" "I'm not doing it on purpose!") during Murder of Crows.

Again, some level of affection or at least acceptance (not quite the word I'm looking for? I'm looking for something between "acceptance" and "ownership" but the word won't come) with "You are a Crow and a De Riva. You're expected."

"You're a damn fine Crow" (end game Treviso) vs "You always think of something. But not this time." (Saving Minrathous.

Rook is close enough with Viago to joke about his habits with Lucanis and for Viago to sarcastically ask if they really remember the night they became a full fledged Crow.

All of this points to a closer relationship than just Talon and a Crow of their House nd a certain level of approval or investment or affection from Viago depending on how you choose to read it.

That said, while fandom uses the word Protege a lot (including me for Arsinoë de Riva!) I don't think there's any direct text evidence that canonically confirms a student teacher relationship.

It definitely can be inferred from the given evidence, especially with the text of the CC faction screen, but there's room for other interpretations too.

Half sibling is also a popular one, I know. Someone made a post I now can't find about the idea of Rook being Viago's ex arranged marriage wife parted on amicable terms and it was great.

But there are potentially other ways to interpret the Viago & Rook background for sure.

All that said and knowing this can't be confirmed in canon with the facts we have now...

If you do read Viago as a mentor figure to Rook, especially a mentor figure with any kind of important age difference, I wonder how the experience of taking them under his wing, so to speak, affected his positions in Crow politics, if at all.

Like, did mentoring a young Rook de Riva have any impact on him siding generally with Teia in the Reformist faction of the Crows?

Of course depending on the order you imagine his ascension to Talon and meeting with Rook went, it could be reversed. His reformist impulses leading his mentorship of Rook.

But while I don't expect them to ever define it concretely because they need to leave room for player interpretation l, I really do kind of want to know his motivations and how if at all Rook played into or reinforced them.

Teia's motivations are made clearest by Eight Little Talons, but most of Viago's introspection there seems more to do with his interpersonal relationships and ambition towards the Throne than his motivations for Crow internal politics.

#viago de Riva #antivan crows #rook de riva #datv spoilers

97 notes · View notes

whimsicalwritingsandmore · 1 year ago

Text

Replay | ateez x reader

Pairing: pirate!ateez x adventurer!reader

Genre: adventure, fantasy, time travel, poly

Warnings: mention of a panic attack, mention of a sharp object.

Word Count: 1475 words

Summary: You're given a second chance to change things. But will you go or stay?

a/n: hello hello! welcome to my first one-shot! (but not really hehe) if you're new and found my account for the first time, I hope you enjoy my stories and it's really wonderful to have you here! :) In an update a while ago, I mentioned that I currently have a plethora of story ideas that I would love to develop into a full-length series one day, but for now, in order to not overwhelm myself, I will be posting these stories as one-shots/imagines so that I can share it with all of you and come back to it later on! This is my first one inspired by Marry My Husband and set in a world like the Choices' game Blades of Light and Shadow! Let me know what you think and happy reading! <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You're standing at the plank, back against the sea, tears streaming down your face. You refuse to look up at your lovers. There's a rollercoaster of emotions going on inside you, ranging from pain, hurt and betrayal to anger.

They chose her over you, believed her melodious and cunning lies, and expect you to apologize to her. You're not looking up but from under your eyes, you can see her figure cozying up next to Wooyoung's. He's telling her not to cry, wiping away those crocodile tears in contrast to your real ones.

Raw rage is slowly thrumming through your veins and resentment is coiling in your stomach as a vortex of anger gradually swirls inside. You've had enough honestly and you were no longer going to bend to anyone.

"Just apologize Y/N." Hongjoong remarks in a cold and distant voice.

His sword is right in front of you, barring you from getting off the plank.

"For what?" you respond icily, "I've done nothing wrong."

Hongjoong grumbles under his breath and another person steps in, you recognize its Seonghwa by his boots.

"Please Y/N, don't be childish. Aera is younger than you, she needs us to look after her. You can't get jealous so easily."

Jealous. Such a funny word coming out of your lover's mouth. It's hypocritical rather, because your eight lovers lose it over the slightest glance someone casts in your direction.

You find it ridiculous.

The girl weasled her way onto the ship, and you had a bad feeling about it since day one. But you didn't think it would come to this.

Love. That's all you ever wanted, and you found it in these eight men, who you had been with since the age of 16. They loved you more than anything, at least, that's what they said.

The only thing you want more than anything right now is to go back and choose differently.

"I—" you declare, "I hope in my next life, true love finds me."

"Y/N what—" Yunho begins but you cut him off.

"I hope I meet someone who truly loves me and I hope it isn't any of you."

You raise your head and look at Hongjoong directly in his eyes. He's taken aback at that cold and empty look in yours. He can see the wheels turning in your head but he’s not sure what you’re planning.

"Traitor." You verbalize before running into his sword.

"NO!" All eight voices ring out.

Shouts and screams erupt from all eight men as your blood begins to stain Hongjoong’s sword.

"Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Hongjoong screams.

You pull away and stumble backward towards the edge. San tries to reach for you but you pull your hand away and fall into the sea.

You're thinking this is where your story ends but actually dear one, this is only the beginning.

You startle out of your trance. You're in the fortune teller's shop. Blinking around haphazardly, you try to zero-in on your surroundings. Memories flood into your mind as you recognize where you are. This is the shop you visited when you were in the town of Maverick - it would be a month before everything happens.

You're dumbstruck by what just happened. Just moments ago, you were on the plank, ran yourself into Hongjoong’s sword and fell into the cold raging sea. Now, sitting in front of you, the elderly tarot reader draws some cards and gives you a reading.

"You're in for a big change dearie. I see the wheel of fortune is in your favour but be warned, the justice card reversed suggests there is dishonesty somewhere. "

“And this one?” you ask, pointing to the death card.

“In its upright position, it reveals that beginnings and change is expected. You’re nearing the end of a cycle.”

You don't ask for a further explanation, you pay and leave, walking back to the tavern where the boys are currently in. But as you walk out the shop's door, it begins to rain.

No...

Immediately, memories rush into your mind as you recall the timeline of events. It will rain and then the dam that's near the town will break, unleashing a flood. Aera is already with you all, the boys bringing her back home to her father after she got herself caught up with some misfits. But when the flood hits, everyone will scamper and she will come back with you all, joining the crew and then ruining everything you had with the boys.

Reaching the tavern, you watch from outside: all the boys are sitting around a table while Aera's father brings another round of drinks, and says something to Hongjoong. Aera stands at the far back of the room but you can tell there is something on her mind, that dubious and suspicious glint in her eyes. Her father walks back, she asks him something and then he scolds her before walking away. She balls her fists but then regains her composure before hopping over to your boys.

Previously, none of this had happened, as far as you remembered. After visiting the tarot reader, you waltzed into the tavern, pecked San and Jongho on the cheeks before placing yourself next to Yeosang who drew you closer to sit on his lap, his arm around you bringing you in closer. Aera did not come and sit with you all.

This time you hesitate entering the tavern, wondering if wandering around, accidentally getting lost or going the other way would be better.

Love. That's all you ever wanted and you thought it would be with these eight boys. Now, you weren't so sure.

Little did you know, this moment of hesitation will change the course of your life. As you continue to think about your next course of action, a figure runs into you, bringing you down with him.

"What the—" Before you can even question, the figure jolts up, ready to run again. But you're quick on your feet too, and you grab the person by their wrist.

"Now wait a minute Mister," you begin but you're cut off by shrill shouts.

"There he is! Get him!"

You turn to the voices but before you can look at the person, he grabs your hand and pulls you with him.

You have no idea why you're even running with him. You're strong enough to break free and go your merry way but as you study his back, you're intrigued — this black hair guy has a pretty feathered twist in his hair and silver dangle earrings. Something about him entices you.

He leads you down an alleyway, over a wall and then into an open field. The next thing you knew, you are on top of a hill that overlooks the town. He brings you behind a tree and you rest against the bark, trying to regulate your breath. The stranger crouches down attempting to do the same.

"You're insane." You remark.

"Yeah well, you were slowing me down so I had to bring you with me if I wanted to get away."

He doesn’t seem dangerous but rather, very amiable. The rain has stopped and there is only a slight drizzle, but from on top of the hill, you can see the dam that’s about to burst.

"No...the dam..." you mutter in-between breaths.

The stranger turns to the dam’s direction and his eyes widen. The dam erupts and rains down like a waterfall. You watch in fear and fright at the sight and your mind races to the boys, but deep down you know that they'll escape.

But this time, you're not with them. You're with this stranger, now apart from them.

"Hey are you okay?"

There's a wave of emotions and you feel yourself spiralling into panic. Your heart pounds in your chest and a familiar grip of fear tightens your chest, each breath of yours shallower than the last. Suddenly, the stranger holds you gently, looking at you with a reassuring calmness.

"Hey, don’t look there, look at me okay? Deep breaths, you can do it, take your time and follow me."

You do as you're told, the stranger running soothing circles on your forearms provides a sense of comfort and relief, and after a few minutes you finally compose yourself, staring out at the now submerged town. It's heartbreaking.

"Where are you going to go?" he asks.

"I don't know." You answer.

The stranger hums and thinks for a minute before getting up and stretching out his hand for yours.

"Let's get going together then."

You're taken aback by his boldness but fascinated and captivated at the same time.

"I don't even know your name." you voice out.

He helps you up and gives you a polite smile, one that is soft and heartfelt.

"Yoonghoon. My name is Kim Yoonghoon."

#ateez x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #poly!ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez series

230 notes · View notes

elbarkla · 10 months ago

Text

Check it out everyone, 3 years of art progress! And I wrote a guide for beginners! 😊

Hi! I’m Laura, age 31. I’ve always drawn occasionally, but never really stuck with it. Frankly it stressed me out. I’d draw for a month, then cry a bunch, then quit for a couple more years. But this time I turned it into a habit somehow. I’ve been drawing near-daily since Feb ‘21 and my life is better for it. Art’s a huge part of me now; it affects how I spend my time, how I express myself, and how I see the world. I feel like a happier, more complete human being.

So here’s what worked for me. This is a guide for hobbyists (I don’t have commercial ambitions) and it may or may not work for you. But I hope you can learn something from it regardless. Without further ado, my thesis:

~ Laura’s Steps for Drawing A Lot and Hopefully Getting Better ~

1 – Manage Your Health

Know what’s bad for your art? Depression! Glad I got around to treating mine. But for real, if you lack self-confidence you might want to check your mental health. It isn’t the sole factor but it can rapidly overtake the others. Every day I see a post like “how do I improve, every time I try to draw I’m overwhelmed with thoughts I’m bad at everything and a burden to the people around me”. That’s relatable but not a healthy way to see yourself. Low self-esteem can be treated. Please consider talking to someone - you’re a wonderful, lovable person and deserve a happy life.

Also, try to get plenty of sleep and eat regular meals; it helps with everything. Exercise is worth a shot too. Going for walks is good for your mind and body. Yes it’s boring, but boredom gives you space to imagine things.

#2 – Make It Fun

You’re taking this too seriously. Yes, you. It’s just a hobby. Take the pressure off. Have fun.

What does that mean? It means you need to make art approachable. It has to be a comfort hobby you’re naturally drawn to. That means killing all thoughts of what you SHOULD do. If it makes you want to draw, go for it. Anime characters? Pretty ladies? Fanart? Furries? Doodles from imagination? Zentangles? Pencils? Digital? Do it. If drawing the “right way” burns you out, draw things the wrong way instead. You know who draws a lot? Children. You know who doesn’t draw super well? Children. Have that mindset. Draw like a child. Don’t compare yourself to others; just enjoy the process of creating something. You had that ability once and I know you can reacquire it.

Intimidated by an empty sketchbook? Don’t wanna ruin a white page? That’s OK; find something you don’t mind ruining. Grab a half-used notebook and a ballpoint pen. You EXPECT those to look horrendous. If you can have fun filling that notebook, you can have fun drawing regularly, and if you draw regularly you can slowly improve your art. It happened to me. I went from rarely drawing to wanting to do it every day. I still sketch in ballpoint now; it’s fun and comfortable.

Also, if drawing’s NOT fun? That’s OK too! There’s loads of ways to express creativity; go do do one of those. For me it was The Sims 3, then knitting, then drawing. Find something accessible and build your confidence up. The world needs bonsai trees and Minecraft castles just as much as drawings. <3

#3 – Seek Instruction

You’ve made drawing a habit, congratulations! You’ve probably learned heaps already; it’s natural to work out techniques as you go. But deducing art wisdom from scratch isn’t super efficient. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel when you can learn so much from others.

You can do a paid course (great way to meet people), but you don’t have to. All the information’s free on the internet! Teachers will cover the same things in different ways or from different perspectives. There’s no exclusive knowledge; the more you study, the more overlap you’ll notice. It all comes together for a more complete understanding of fundamental concepts.

Here’s some of my favourite resources (currently all available free online)(except the Winslow one which was taken down, boo):

r/artfundamentals, ie. drawabox.com . A great starter course on how to hold a pen, draw lines, build forms and so on. You can follow structured lessons or just practice whatever you need to.

How to Draw: Drawing and Sketching Objects and Environments from Your Imagination, by Scott Robertson. This book’s the gold standard on perspective and great for technical thinkers. It gets VERY advanced but there’s basic stuff to learn from as well. If the textbook intimidates you, try this excellent video playlist by Dan Beardshaw. He walks you through the same concepts in a simple approachable manner. Vital information if you want your work to look 3D.

anything by Andrew Loomis. He’s an icon for a reason; the Loomis head is a standard art tool to this day. I also enjoy the anachronistic career advice (“all advertisers will pay for a well-drawn head” or whatever it was). Here’s the ones I’ve read and enjoyed:

Fun with a Pencil

Figure Drawing for All It’s Worth

Drawing The Head and Hands

Creative Illustration (my current fave, great for composition)

Classic Human Anatomy in Motion, by Valerie L. Winslow. Hot take – people who say “learn anatomy” to beginners are idiots. SO MANY fundamentals come before anatomy if you wanna draw good-looking characters. You’ll get better results studying proportion, form, gesture, shapes and composition first. But if/when you want to learn bones and muscles, this is the book for you! It’s probably overkill, but I loved the breakdown of facial muscles and how they create expression. Top-tier reaction image material.

Proko!! Fabulous Youtube channel. Not only is Stan a great teacher, he invites on other artists too. Just go to his search bar and plug in a keyword; you’ll always find something helpful. I recommend his channel if you want to draw humans (loads of gesture, forms, proportion, anatomy etc.), but there’s a video or two on everything. Some of my other favourite videos:

Mind-Blowing Realistic Shading Tricks. Simple effective intro to light and shadow, I still go back and learn from it.

How to Draw Dynamic Shapes – FORCE Series Part 3. So compelling I bought the book afterwards. Blew my mind, instantly improved all my shapes and in turn my composition and gesture.

Painting Skin Tones and How Light Affects Color. Marco Bucci’s a genius with colours, he explains value and saturation in such fascinating ways.

Digital Shape Carving with Scott Flanders – good companion to the shading video above, teaches dramatic silhouettes and cel-shading within a really interesting workflow.

Google. Any question. Throw it in. Someone’s made a video or reddit post about it. You’d be surprised! I swear, the number of times I’ve typed “composition tips” or “digital watercolour clip studio paint” or “how draw horse head”.

Remember, take it easy. Don’t burn yourself out. Back off if you feel the tears creeping in. Study should supplement your drawings, not replace them. If in doubt, revert to step 2 – “bad” art is better than no art.

4– Study Life

If you did step 3 you’re way ahead of me on this one. USE REFERENCES. Draw things from photos (or real life if possible). Fill your brain with visual information. Here’s a thread I made for sharing references of humans.

What if you prefer to draw from imagination? That’s fine – try a hybrid approach. Doodle whatever comes to you, then look up references and try again. For example I’ll doodle a bear, then draw from photos of bears, then doodle new bears using the things I learned. It’s fun and also a good way to test your knowledge. You may also enjoy combining different references; eg drawing animal fusions, combining poses with an outfits etc. It gets easier to do the more you practice.

Between art pieces I keep a balance between drawing from imagination, drawing from reference, following art lessons, and studying other artists. Speaking of which –

5 – Study Art

Ever heard “Don’t draw anime until you’ve learned anatomy?” or “Learn the rules before you break them?” I strongly disagree with both of those statements. Fundamentals are great but there’s never a point you stop learning them, and studying life won’t teach you how to stylise. That’s why you also need to learn from your favourite artworks. This gets easier/more efficient as you build your broader art skills, but you can learn styles at any point of your art journey (see – step 2). In fact, it makes study more enjoyable, since stylised art can look better and feel more “you”. You already know what you want to create– why not start now?

Let’s take anime as an example. That’s a huge genre with loads of variation. So, what’s your personal taste? Round and cute, or sharp and serious? Choose your favourite shows and study how they do it. Observe their lines, shapes and proportions. Then try it yourself. Make fanart. Not only is replication good art practice in general, it’ll teach you a bunch of new tricks. For original work, pull from loads of sources, the more diverse the better. Work in your love for Silver Age comics or medieval tapestries or German expressionism. The more places you learn from, the more unique and personal your style will be. Your art becomes a visual scrapbook of all the artists you love. I think that’s beautiful. <3

6 – Find Community

Art friends! Best thing ever. You can bond over your shared obsession, commiserate over tough parts, and learn about art together. A lot of my drawings are in-jokes exchanged with my BFF. I’ve known them from childhood (lucky) but apparently adults can make friends too. Fandom spaces are great for this; many Discord channels have a dedicated artists’ zone. You can also try r/sketchdaily or challenges like Mermay/Inktober if you want a sense of community.

If you don’t have art friends (yet), that’s OK; parasocial works too! I like watching “Draw With Me” content on Youtube. It’s great to put on while you’re creating, especially when you don’t have the energy for something educational. Not only is it inspiring, you can learn tips and tricks along the way. And of course, you can never go wrong with Bob Ross.

7 – Be Interesting

The very first step was to manage your health. In a way, we’ve looped back to the beginning. Because no matter what you do, art begins and ends with who you are. You can practice fundamentals 12 hours a day but if you never live your life, you’ll never make interesting art. No one cares for artists whose only character trait is how hard they grind. So go be the most vibrant version of yourself. Take up weird hobbies. Make weird friends. Seek new experiences. Question the beliefs you grew up with. Read books for a while instead of drawing. Develop your principles. Embrace what makes you different. Survive the worst year of your life somehow. Learn what makes you thrive. Your art won’t be for everyone. But it WILL mean the world to some. And to me, that’s the whole point of doing this. Good luck, fellow artist. The world is your adventure yet to come. I believe in you. <3

#art progress #art tips #art tutorial #art resources #art guide #artists on tumblr #elbarklaart #art advice

24 notes · View notes

itz-pandora · 4 months ago

Note

Questions for your Main AU Grim and Lanolin: Grim: How are you still alive, and why? What was your inspo. for your outfit? Why do you wanna commit Regicide? And who's the king/queen again? Lanolin: How did you meet Grim, and what made you join him? What was your life before now? What do you think of Zuri and how fast she was recrutied? You seemed in disbelief when you first saw the scene (refering to this post), so what was up with that? Okay Im done now-

Grim's asks:

"I've been researching this crystal for a long time, and it's unusual properties. Immortality in exchange for energy, which is a pretty fair deal if you ask me! I have a lot of other gems to tamper with, so I've been able to find a good energy distribution system to keep myself stable."

(OOC) I don't remember the inspo I used, but it's not too off from what I'd imagine Soleanna's fashion to be like. Of course, the royals and upper class have different clothes (and Babylonians are a whole different thing)

"I've been at odds with the royal family before the current king and queen inherited the throne. I've wanted the Sol Emeralds for over a century, and they know that. I want to research them, but they're locked away. Not to mention the boredom that comes with age. There's only so many magical crystals and artifacts I can get my hands on, and there's only so much I'm able to research. I like to spice things up a bit from time to time!"

(I just made these designs for this ask! Current ideas for names are Inferno the Caracal, and Char/Cinder the Cat. I'm indecisive about her name.)

Lanolin asks:

"He's actually my uncle. Well, more like a great-grand uncle? He's been around for a long time, I can't remember how many generations. My parents kept him at somewhat of a distance, because of his quirks... But I've known him since I was a baby. I was never afraid of him."

"Before my parents died, I was definitely happier. Of course, I'm forever grateful that uncle Grim took me in, but it's not the same. I miss my parents, even though they weren't perfect."

"Grim is always impulsive, seeing him be eager to recruit someone isn't what's shocking. I'm just surprised anyone would want to work for him!"

#Sorry about Grim flashing you LOL #but yeah in my au. eggman makes a synthetic phantom ruby because Grim showed him a real one #i think its cool #my art #art #ask #my au #happyfacelol #grim the goat #lanolin the sheep #Cinder the Cat #Inferno the Caracal #sol dimension au

14 notes · View notes

hijinks-n-lowjinks · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! For the WIP ask:

I'm sorry I gotta ask about and i've been tryin' not to feel it it's one of my fave JJK fics!

Specifically, how'd you come up with the overall concept and plot points in the fic? Is it inspired by anything from your own life experiences or solely the JJK source material?

Also: Is there anything in particular you keep in mind when you write Yuuji and Meg's characterization in the fic? Cuz you're one of the few writers who I think captures them PERFECTLY so tell me all ur secrets >:)

Thank you :D

Omg thank you so much, I'm so happy that you're enjoying it so far!!! This ask made me smile so big when I got it, this is exactly what I wanted to talk about for aibtntfi!!! warning, this will be a very long post lol. I'll explain further below the cut~

The overall concept was actually from me just daydreaming about what a regular itfs meeting would be life if they met in completely normal circumstances. I was still in college when I started writing this fic, and writing high school age setting feels unnatural to me now, so I just aged them up to make it easier on myself and more fun for me to write! This fic was also intended to only be a one shot, but..... then I thought of some cute little plotlines and rolled with it lol.

First off, I'm not gonna lie, I think a lot of jjk/itfs fics get them wrong—both their characterizations and their relationship.

I was determined to write my boys accurately, or at least as accurately characterized as I can imagine them being in a normal modern world! I couldn't picture Megumi being outgoing, or very willing to actively attempt to get to know anyone outside his current friend group, so I had to think of a way to get itfs to interact in a way that seemed natural and not forced.

Megumi has never been a problem for me to write. He's my favorite character, and I've loved him since the anime first started airing in 2020 and back then NOBODY gave a fuck about him (at least in my social circles). It felt like I was his sole fan, so I've always had a pretty good grasp on his character and personality due to having to defend my boy to the ends of the earth.

Something I've had to do to ensure that I keep him accurate is have little check ins. Whenever I write a chapter, I'll usually have a somewhat linear outline of what I want to put down, so I'll imagine if I could see canon Megumi saying/doing/thinking the same things as au Megumi. Obviously it's not a 1-to-1 (an au will immediate make a character different simply because of setting), but it does help!

For example, when itfs first met I couldn't imagine canon Megumi instantly fawning over him or getting googly eyes over him. That's just not my boy.

But I could imagine canon Megumi being slightly flustered and feeling mildly distressed when talking to a cute boy he just met and probably doesn't want to find as cute and interesting as he does. In a world where you can die on any mission you're sent on, Megumi likes having some feeling of control over himself and his reactions to things. That's why when he suddenly found himself inexplicably attracted to Yuuji for seemingly no apparent reason it distressed him; it's an emotion he doesn't typical find himself feeling strongly about and is more than likely in control of 24/7. That lack of control over his emotions is what causes him to begin to freak himself out and snap at Yuuji, becoming the catalyst for the entire fic.

Overall, Megumi is blunt, opinionated yet understated, responsible, petty, and he's kind of mean!!!! I mean that last one in the most affectionate way!!! He's constantly ready to insult or knock characters down a peg, but he's clever about it! He's a very emotionally complex character as well. He cares far more about things than he'd ever let on, and he's jaded as fuck. He has a very realistic (and slightly cynical) look at the world. He's extremely intelligent but has difficulty full expressing himself without wanting to put a gun to his head.

He's also a massive cutie! He's very quiet about his interests, but he does have love and passion for them. He adores his sister, unfortunately loves his friends and Gojo, and tries to maintain a level head and clear mind as much as he can while keeping a firm grip on what he deems realistic.

I also needed to imagine how the characters would have matured since I aged them up. 15 year old Yuuji does not have the emotional intelligence that 20 year old Yuuji does, and I needed to acknowledge that change. A 20 year old man should not be as immature as a 15 year old, not matter how closely you're attempting to maintain characterization.

Yuuji is much more difficult character for me to write. He's much more at ease with himself and the world around him, so it's a struggle to think of how he'd respond to others in different situations. Overall he's very understanding and sympathetic to others, but I think he also has a hard time knowing how to respond to them! With his older age in my fic, it was odd writing Yuuji with the emotional intelligence of a 20 year old because he just doesn't have that level at 15. That was a concession I had to make because writing 20 year old Yuuji that immature felt cringy and distasteful.

He's a silly guy! He likes to joke and mess around, but he's still capable of being serious. The balance between them is one of the harder parts of writing good Yuuji characterization, in my experience. A key part of his character is that he wants to be helpful. He's very easygoing and ready to provide assistance to anyone who might need it, sometimes even to the detriment of himself or others (in a damaging to their pride way).

The dynamic between the two is like gravity. There's something that somehow keeps them orbiting around each other no matter how hard one might attempt to break away from the other. They long to be near each other and don't know exactly how to define what they are to each other, they just are.

I can 100% get behind the idea that Megumi would be instantly drawn/attracted to Yuuji. That's more-or-less what happens in canon, so why would an au be any different? But the thing is, Megumi does not want to befriend Yuuji initially. He's civil with Yuuji, but he obviously doesn't care about being neighborly or getting on Yuuji's good side with the blunt-bordering-on-rude way he acts in the beginning of the manga.

I full leaned into that. I could absolutely see Megumi being irritated that he find this this stupid, kind, loud boy that he doesn't know frustratingly cute and I thought it would be a funny premise to get this little subtly tsundere boy to kiss a cute boy at the end of the night and get a boyfriend. That, in fact, did not end up happening and it instead stretched to them pining for each other for 14 chapters straight.

Yuuji is obviously far more outgoing than Megumi, so I had to play into that. He doesn't mind interacting and conversing with strangers, but he also doesn't really go out of his way to fully befriend them, so I needed another external force to really pique his interest in Megumi.

Megumi's resistance to chatting up with Yuuji is what draws the latter in. There's a deep curiosity engrained in Yuuji, because at his core he truly loves learning about things! I leaned into his curiosity for Megumi as a way to show that side of his character as well using it as a natural meet cute and spark.

When it comes to dialogue and interactions, I try to keep it as natural as I can! If I could picture a young adult have saying what they do or having a similar conversation then I know I've done my job! Repeating dialogue out loud or in your head REALLY helps. It helps your brain catch weird inflections or inconsistencies when just typing it out might not.

My final ace in the hole is my wonderful beta reader @kattythingz . They keep me in check for that sort of thing! They'll happily call me out if they think a line of dialogue sounds weird or that a character wouldn't say or act a certain way, and it's saved my ass over and over again. If you have people around you who are willing to read and can be honest about that sort of thing, then use them!!! You won't get better if people are sparing your feelings.

#I am SO sorry for this long ass reply but I really wanted to go into depth with my process!!!!!#and feel free to ask specific questions if you have any idk what people are specifically struggling with skfnskmf #jinx answers #fics: and i've been tryin' not to feel it #jinx writes #jinx talks

7 notes · View notes

topazadine · 7 months ago

Text

Writerly Questionnaire

Thanks to @the-golden-comet for the tag! I enjoyed reading your answers, especially the part about your characters!

Alright, here goes.

About Me

When did you first start writing?

I wrote my first story at age 7, started my first book at age 12 (no you can't read it, it's terrible) and published my first poem at age 15.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Despite writing fantasy, I actually don't read much of it myself. My undergrad career focused most on British literature (specializing in Victorian lit) so that's what I'm most familiar with and what I like the most.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

I don't really seek to emulate anyone because I have my own unique voice, and I don't really get compared to anyone else either. If you have suggestions of what I might sound like, fire away lmao, because I don't really know who I emulate. However, I take a lot of inspiration from Willa Cather for atmosphere and Emile Zola for realism.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

I exclusively write at my desk. My setup looks like this:

I need my little guys and my Emotional Support Stuffed Cow (her name is Bluebell the Moobell because she has a little bell in her). Note the knitting I'm procrastinating on at the bottom right lmao.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Funnily enough, I often get inspiration from my day job as an SEO writer, even though it has absolutely nothing to do with the types of stuff I write. Sometimes I'll just be hammering away at a Construction Accident Personal Injury Lawyer page and it strikes me that I need to kill one of my characters.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Sort of. I have this thing I do where I like to mentally walk through buildings I used to visit as a relaxation activity, like my childhood elementary school, so that's given me a good memory of how places are laid out. As for actual settings? No, most of those are just made up of pictures I've seen of different places that I've never visited.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Some of my recurring themes include: Degradation/transformation of memory Struggling against fate/the unknowability of fate Found family Abusive relationships Moral relativism Satisficing (choosing between multiple suboptimal outcomes to pick the least harmful option) None of them surprise me; I recognize where they come from. For example, my obsession with the degradation and transformation of memory comes from my own struggles with dissociative amnesia, and my interest in satisficing comes from my International Relations degree. My concerns about the unknowability of fate come from the fact that I had a premonition that I'd die of a heart attack at 42. And I'm 32 right now. You can imagine that this influences my process lmao.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

As a lesbian, I am not ashamed to say that I am deeply and passionately horny for Uileac (who you can meet in "Cachaille" or read about in 9 Years Yearning). Like how can you not go crazy for a man who thinks this is the perfect declaration of love?

He's so scary and so devoted, yet also very chill and laid-back? And funny? And athletic? And protective of his lil sis? He's just ... (screams into pillow)

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Ono. He's a Sinan royal guard who is just so sweet but also kinda dumb.

There's a scene where he has to ask Cerie what kind of menstrual products she needs for their trip, which is both mortifying and really adorable. He's just a really gentle and nice guy who I think would get along with damn near everyone.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

I think Mordrek would scare the absolute shit out of me ngl. Like ... bro just ... does this kind of shit on the regular

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Uileac, Orrinir, and Ono were heavily inspired by Uguisumaru, Ookanehira, and Omokage from Touken Ranbu and I don't apologize for that. Obviously they are a bit different, but their personalities are quite similar. Cerie was developed from a roleplay where I was playing as Uguisumaru's made-up sister, so that's why she's Uileac's sister in Poesyverse. Haniya, Cerie's love interest, was made up by using personality testing and astrology to come up with Cerie's Perfect Match. No one knows where Mordrek came from. He just kinda showed up.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

They all have daddy issues. Every single fucking one of them.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

All the art I have for my characters was made with AI before I realized AI was absolute garbage shit, so I'm not showing it, but I did commission a painting of Cerie from the amazing artist Caleb over on Twitter:

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

For me, that's kind of like asking why a bird sings. It's just what I do and what I have always done.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Definitely when someone says that my writing helped them or resonated with them. My writing gives me catharsis and it feels really good when other people say they got that same sense of catharsis.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

As someone who takes risks that pay off.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Depicting trauma without being melodramatic.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

People have told me they like how meticulous and carefully set up my stories are without infodumping or being boring. They appreciate the work that goes into planning things, how it all pays off in the end and comes together nicely without plot holes.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

I think I've come a long way and continue to improve, which is what is most important.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

The last Kauaʻi ʻōʻō still sang until the end. So yes.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I write whatever the hell I feel like when I feel like it. People tend to like it, but if they don't, I enjoyed making it anyway.

Open tag!

#writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #writing community #writing game #oc game #oc character #my ocs #tag game #tagging game #tag meme #my writing #literature #writeblr #writerscommunity

11 notes · View notes

alltimefail-sims · 7 months ago

Note

📩 Simblr question of the day: How do you incorporate seasons, festivals and holidays in your game? Do you stick with the default calendar or add your own? Or maybe you ignore the calendar entirely? (@simblr-question-of-the-day)

I love stuff like festivals and holidays that prompt you to do something different with your sims so I'm looking forward to hearing your answer to this one!

I've been pondering adding some vampire/werewolf/spellcaster holidays myself, but I'm not very sure what exactly I would do for those. There's a lot of history, I expect I might add some memorial holidays.

Honestly I wish I had a better answer to this question than what I have, but I actually under-utilize the calendar feature. I would even argue I nearly ignore it entirely, especially some of the festivals and small holidays (the neighborhood brawl holiday for example, lol).

I love the idea of festivals, but I tend to play a little pretend with this feature - I'll make seasonal community lots (like a pumpkin patch/fall festival lot) and just plan a party or gathering at that lot. It gets my sim out of the house, but I don't have the rigid holiday goals that slow my computer down. Unless my sim is living in the world the festival is occurring in, I tend to not have my sim attend them. I blame my computer's lag for that issue - not the features themselves. But attending a Henford fair when my sim lives in Brindleton Bay feels strange to me. I will say, I actually love the City Living festivals when I'm playing in San Myshuno though!

One thing I do use the calendar for, however, is adding summer vacations for my child and teen sims (and even a small winter/fall break as well - I have pretty much all my saves on no aging/longest life span I think, so I never run into an issue of time).

I think the idea of adding holidays or festivals for occults is an intriguing idea! I kind of do this without the calendar and with a little imagination, but I might play around and see if there's anything cool I can come up with to share down the road. Vampires in my lore, for example, are fickle creatures who love lavish parties and events - they have regular vampire council meetings (composed of all the vampire clan leaders), galas, social events, etc. Vampires are very traditional as well, so I feel they would observe many formal holidays that are exclusive to the vampire world. The same goes for Spellcasters. Wolves feel more free, "on-the-fly" types to me, but The Collective might have some traditional ceremonies/festivals/memorial holidays etc. that could be incorporated with the calendar.

My big issue with holidays, as they currently are, is that they're far too broad - they apply to the whole world, not just a certain occult type or your household, but I'm sure there are mods out there that remedy this issue. But by and large I have avoided adding holidays to the calendar that just target specific occults (or ones that only benefit the save I'm playing in) because it would be very weird to see Nancy Landgraab celebrating an occult holiday on a community lot or something lmao. I am a micromanager in most of my saves and a stickler for keeping the "immersion," so this could just be a "me" issue. Some of my occult lore is kind of dark, which is why it makes broad stroke, blanket features like the calendar a bit challenging to use. But if you play around with holidays at all, I'd love to know what you come up with!!!

#Thank you for this ask <3 I'm so sorry it took me 12 years to respond omg #sqotd #atfs ask #charsimsalot

3 notes · View notes

repairingtomorrow · 1 year ago

Text

Kiriko Yamagami (Origin Story)

To Master List

Centuries ago, when the dragon brothers walked the earth, war engulfed Japan and they needed a messenger. They called upon a legendary warrior and healer from Kanezaka, and gifted her with a fox companion to help. Her name was lost to time, but her actions were legendary. Near the end of the war, she and her companion were discovered and gravely wounded. In an attempt to save their lives, the Dragon of the North Wind had used one of his scales to save the both of them. They lived on, and continued their service to the brothers until their natural deaths. But the story did not end there. The scale connected them to the Shimada bloodline, but they could not host them. So, a Tetsuzan Shrine was built to honor the duo, and a miko was assigned to house the kami and perform the same tasks she did ages ago.

My grandmother was the last miko before me, and I was about to become the next one to house the kami.

It was the the day of the ceremony. My nerves were high and I wrung my hands to keep them from shaking. Hanzo and Grammy were putting a shroud around me: He noticed my apprehension and squeezed my shoulder. "You'll be okay, Kiriko. I know it's not exactly the same, but I was nervous when I was getting my dragons." "I suppose, but your dragons are still you. This isn't me, it's someone or something else." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. Grammy smiled at me. "I felt the same, dear, but the kami became a lifelong friend to me. She will be the same to you." She said, and the two of them put a freezing cold blanket around me.

After a few agonizingly cold minutes, the three of us left the room to the main hall of the shrine. Genji was sitting with his father and Kasumi, one of the elders' daughters. They were distant cousins, but we were all good friends. She gave me a small nod and a smile, and I couldn't help but smile back a bit. Genji seemed uncomfortable, and his father irritated. I ignored it, since it wasn't my current concern. Grammy showed me and Hanzo where to kneel, and I followed her instructions. She knelt across from me, rang the summoning bell, then she gave it to me.

Grandmother started to chant, and I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath, and started meditating: I needed to 'open my heart' to the kami. I thought about my future, how I'm going to serve my city like my grandmothers before me. My heart began to race despite my shivering. I joined in her chanting, feeling comfortable enough to do so. I opened my eyes and peered through my shroud. We locked eyes: Grammy's eyes were glowing a blue-green color, and the same colored energy flowed around her. It began to surround me, and it felt like a cold rush of water. I couldn't tell if it's because of the chill going through me, or if it was the power of the kami. Instinctively, I rung the summoning bell and the energy rushed from my grandmother to me. Then, everything went black.

I opened up my eyes, and I was still kneeling in the shrine. Everyone was gone, and the lighting seemed different. I looked around when I noticed a woman standing by the entrance of the shrine. She had long black hair, and was wearing an elegantly designed yukata. "You're...her." I was in awe. I've heard so much about her, and to finally meet her was crazy. She looked over her shoulder at me. "It's good to finally meet you, Kiriko. I've heard so much about you." The spirit didn't sound too happy, but I'd imagine being around for centuries like this is not all that fun. "I could say the same thing about you." I chuckled awkwardly, walking closer. She had this 'don't touch or get close to me' kind of energy, but we are stuck with each other.

The kami chuckled, and I stood next to her. "It will be refreshing to be in a younger body. I apologize if that sounds strange." I nervously laughed. "It's fine, all of this will just take some getting used to." "Agreed, I promise I won't intrude too much. I keep to myself." That did reassure me a bit. It didn't dispel all my worries, but I'll have to get used to it. "Perhaps we can work together. The Hashimotos are a blight to innocent people, and the Shimadas are not much better." What did she mean by that? Sojiro has been kind to me and the people in our cities. "I don't believe you. The Shimadas have protected us for centuries." I spat, glaring at her. The kami didn't react. "Yes, they have. But in more recent decades, they have become as bad as the people they claim to fight. They were good people ages ago. You'll see in time, I suppose." She waved her hand dismissively, and everything went dark.

My eyes snapped open, and I sat up in my bed. I had a heated blanket on me, and I was sweating from it. Hanzo was in my room, looking out a window. "Good to see you awake." He said, glancing over to me. I just stared at him--at the tattoo on his left arm specifically. I grabbed his arm, rolled up the sleeve and examined it: it had a soft light blue glow to it, energy flowing through the markings. He pulled his arm away. "I guess the ritual worked." He said, putting his sleeve down. "Sorry, I just noticed something...different about it." "How do you feel now? Since you seem to have merged with the spirit." He asked. I looked at my hands, still thinking about what she said. How could people like Hanzo, Kasumi, or even Genji be evil as she claims to be? I look over at him, as he waited for an answer. "I feel fine. Things will take some getting used to, though." He nodded. "I felt the same when I got my dragons."

"Hanzo, do you like your family?" I asked him after a few minutes of silence. He grew pale at the question, then cleared his throat and regained his composure. "What do you mean?" I shrugged. "How about this, then. Do you love your father and brother?" He was deep in thought for a while. "Of course. I love them both with all I have." Hanzo didn't really sound sincere, but I didn't want to push it. "Do you think the rest of your family is evil?" He looked at me, confused. "Where is this coming from, Kiriko?" "I-I don't know. The kami said some things that made me question...a lot of stuff." Hanzo sighed and sat next to me. "The kami has been working with our family for centuries. She would've said something by now if she was unhappy." I opened my mouth to speak when I heard her voice. Hm, he acts as if I have a choice. The Shimadas need me as much as I need you. I froze. Hanzo didn't pay attention to me as he got up to leave. "I should let you rest. Let you get used to things." He whispered, walking out of my room.

I've thought about what the spirit said for a long time. Three years later, I've gotten used to the kami's presence but she didn't want to say more on the topic of the Shimadas all that time. But everything started to go wrong very quickly. Sojiro was assassinated by a Hashimoto sniper, and they tried to kill Genji too; They only hit his right shoulder though. I was walking through the private infirmary the Shimadas had, worrying far too much about everything. Lost in my thoughts, I bumped into someone in the hallway. "Oh! I'm sorry!" I shouted, stopping and turning to the man. "Don't worry 'bout it, miss." He replied and looked over his shoulder at me as he kept walking: He had an accent that definitely wasn't from around here. I paused for a moment, then I walked into Genji's room.

Genji was sitting up on the bed, staring out the window deep in thought. I tapped on the doorway, and he gestured for me to come in. "Hi, Sparrow. How are you feeling?" I walked over to him, combing my thumb over the ofuda in my hands. "I've been better...and also worse." He replied, sounding rather out of it. "Who was that walking out of your room? I bumped into him, and he said sorry with a rather interesting accent." Genji let out a dry chuckle. "He's...a friend of mine, a tourist from America. He was just coming by to see how I was doing." I nodded, staring at his bandaged shoulder. He avoided looking at me, like he was hiding something. "What's going on, Genji? You know you can talk to me, I'm good at keeping secrets. It's kind of my job." I told him, touching my fingers to his shoulder. He flinched and moved his shoulder away, which made him wince from the pain.

"It's nothing to concern yourself about, Kiri. It's my business, not yours." I couldn't help but feel hurt at what he said. There was a time not too long ago where we could talk about anything. "Is it about Sojiro? I know you where there--" "Just drop it, Kiriko." He snapped, glaring. I stared into his gray, green-flecked eyes. After a few heartbeats, he turned away from me again. I grabbed the ofuda and forcefully pressed it to his shoulder without warning. He let out a hiss and he swore at me. "Was that necessary?!" He growled. I gave him a dismissive hand wave. "Don't make the healer angry if you want nice treatment." I joked, watching the ofuda disappear into his shoulder with a soft yellow light. He let out a quiet sigh, his pain presumably lessening. "...Thank you." Genji muttered. He still looked tense, but there was nothing I could do if he didn't want to talk to me. So, I got up and left, but I stopped at the door. "You can talk to me anytime you want to, Sparrow. I hope you know that."

That was the last time I spoke to him. He wasn't at his father's funeral a few weeks later--I should've pushed him to talk to me back in that infirmary. The Hashimotos finished what they started: They broke into the Shimada compound and killed him. After Genji died, Hanzo left Hanamura and abandoned us. The Shimada elders struggled without their leader, and after a year, they collapsed and disbanded. We were all thrown to the mercy of the tigers.

But it's not the time to be living in regret anymore. The Hashimotos only keep increasing the stranglehold they have on our city, and we're sick of it. I've formed the Yōkai, and we started a war on them; even Kasumi and her gang joined in. Every time they fight, we fight back: Everything they take, we take back.

Sooner or later, they will all know that Kanezaka is under our protection.

(Thank you for reading if you made it this far! Unfortunately, I've realized the reality of the situation of Kiriko's abilities and decided to make them magic, same thing with the brothers. Even before Kiriko, the dragon magic never really seemed to make sense and I'm not buying the "it's not magic" bullshit, either give an explanation or admit you can't make it operate without magic. Sorry for the mini rant, just wanted to explain some things.)

#overwatch #kiriko yamagami #kiriko #my overwatch rewrite #hanzo shimada #genji shimada #i swear this is not an excuse to write for genji again #also there's technically an oc here too

10 notes · View notes

owlhead650 · 9 months ago

Text

Pokemon Rejuvenation - Asopo Interceptor of Persistence meets Lepidopterist Butterfly

This is a short story set in the world of Pokemon Rejuvenation. The player character is replaced by my interceptor oc Asopo who had Alain as his host. This story takes place during the month of .Karmafiles and in it Asopo meets another Pokemon trainer known as Butterfly. Butterfly is an oc created by @lemonade-juley and after looking at the art of her I felt inspired to write this story. The story is about 6180 words long. I hope you enjoy.

Asopo was walking the streets of Grand Dream City, shortened to GDC, and enjoying the sound of Thursday's rainfall. The dome around the city could simulate any weather, allowing the citizens to vote each morning on what they wanted. Yet no matter what it always rained on Thursdays, making it Asopo’s favourite day in the city.

He wore a black jacket with neon magenta lines around the sleeves and edges, a white shirt, blue waterproof runners, a blue skirt and fishnet leggings. His hair was long and vast, dyed blue and tied at three different spots to keep it in the strange shape that made Asopo feel beautiful. As much as he loved the feeling, the sound, the look of rain falling, Asopo knew it would ruin his hair so he walked along with a parasol balanced against his shoulder.

Eventually Asopo arrived at Somniam Mall, a bright towering glass structure that was wonderfully well stocked yet tragically gatekept and expensive. Asopo walked along the tiles of the shopping centre floor and searched for a shop he’d never been in before. It didn’t take long, as a hardcore Pokemon battler Asopo only used two shops on a regular basis. He entered a place called Ribbombee’s Raiments and saw many clothes with colourful patterns spread across the fabric. Most if not all of these clothes were made for women but Asopo was the kind of boy who wore fishnets and a skirt whenever he felt like it so there’s no chance that would stop him. He had closed his umbrella, now carrying it with his left hand. He reached out towards the ring of clothes hangers and let his fingers dance through the silk. Green, black, blue, a sun dress styled in the likeness of Araquanid. Asopo never trained an Araquanid yet he faced trainers like Crawli or Alain who showed him just how powerful it could be. He imagined himself wearing it during a visit to Teilia resort, laughing with his friend Amber under the sun.

As he lifted it up, he realised someone else had a hand on the dress. A girl his age marginally shorter than him with auburn hair and orange orbs for eyes. Her freckled face widened in surprise as she took a step back.

“O-oh! Hi there.” She had let go of the sundress. Asopo saw she already wore a dress of her own. It was light in weight and colour, with many shapes like butterfly wings. Dominantly white, with orange and black outlining the finer details. It revealed her shoulders and chest. She also had a black and white mothwing cape. Asopo wondered if she was a regular.

“Are you going to buy that dress?” She asked, lifting a finger to point at it gingerly. Asopo nodded.

“Good choice, I was planning on getting it for myself but I think it’d look great on you. Why don’t you try it on, just to be sure?” Asopo could tell she was hoping he would change his mind, but that wasn’t going to happen. Pulling the curtains behind him, Asopo sat on the stool and held up the sundress. He removed all his major articles of clothing except for the belt and its six pokeballs. With the sundress on he bundled his own clothes in a corner and pulled the curtain. The girl had been waiting and the first thing Asopo saw on the other side was her bright expression. “Hey, that looks really cute! You’re not as cute as me or my moths, but the sundress is still good on you. How does it feel?”

Asopo thought carefully for about three seconds, analysing his current physical and mental state. “I am comfortable.”

“Great, feeling comfortable is the most important part about the clothes you wear. You can’t run or hide if a dress hinders your mobility.”

Asopo reached under the skirt and pulled out a standard pokeball, allowing his trusty Swampert to emerge in a flash of light. Mud Splash looked Asopo up and down. “Swaammmp!” It cried with a glint in its eyes Asopo recognised as approval and happiness.

“I didn’t know you were a trainer. Do you battle?” Asopo looked back at the girl and nodded. He was proud of his Pokemon power, they always came through for him when it mattered most. “That’s good. Me and my moths are trying to get stronger too! Actually, let’s battle. I won’t be able to protect myself if I don’t stay practised.”

Asopo smiled and nodded. He felt the bond between himself and others was strongest when battling alongside them, and sometimes you get unique insights into the nature of your opponents. Seeing the way trainers speak to their pokemon, the way the pokemon behave and express themselves in the struggle, there’s nothing else like it.

Asopo and the girl took their places on the road in front of Somniam Mall, facing each other at a healthy distance. Despite what you would assume, a pokemon battle on the streets of GDC wasn’t particularly disruptive or dangerous. Ambitious trainers fought each other in public spaces all the time, the city roads were built specifically to resist pokemon attacks therefore accommodating this aspect of its culture.

“Okay Asopo, I can’t linger too long so let’s keep this as a quick 2v2 double battle. Frosmoth! Volcarona! Come on out!” The girl threw both pokeballs up in the air and with a flash of light the moths took flight. Volcarona looked about as if expecting to see dangers of some kind. It then thrusted itself towards its trainer, snuggling against her. “H-hey! Stop it guys, not now…” The girl rubbed Volcarona’s fur anyway, its six orange wings lit up with excitement. Frosmoth’s wings blew cold wind as the girl rubbed its head, yet this scene made Asopo feel warm.

“Go Mudsplash! Go Drizzler!” Asopo’s throwing arm was fast and precise. He had thrown Mudsplash’s ball before Drizzler’s yet they both emerged only half a second apart and quickly positioned themselves, alert and ready to face the moths.

Volcarona and Frosmoth were both satisfied with the attention from their trainer and now ready to battle. Asopo and the girl made eye contact, neither hesitated.

“Giga drain, now!” Volcorona flapped its wings and channelled powers of growth, ready to absorb the energy from its opponent like a tree with its roots in the ground.

“Protect.” Mudsplash braced itself and concentrated its move energy into a barrier that nullified what would have otherwise been a devastating attack. Drizzler flapped its wings and brought the rainfall back.

“Pelipper pel!” It chirped happily. “Hurricane.” As Asopo had asked it to, Drizzler sent a cyclone towards Frosmoth.

“Use stringshot on the wall!” Responding to its trainer, Frosmoth shot a sticky weave rope towards the side of a building and pulled itself away from Drizzler’s attack.

“Good! Now Volcarona, use sunny day!” Its wings shone with heavenly radiance, demonstrating the power that inspired worship from ancient Unovans and banishing the rainfall Asopo loved.

“Tailwind. Rockslide.” Drizzler flapped its wings and gave its team a favourable air stream. Mud Splash clenched its fists and slammed the ground sending dozens of stones into the air. Volcarona was hurt, badly. “Oh no! Frosmoth use blizzard to protect yourself!” Frosmoth twirled in the air and sent frigid gusts every direction, deterring the stones from harming it and momentarily blinding Asopo with the sudden burst of snow.

“Volcarona we can’t give up! Use morning sun!” Forcing itself upright the moth absorbed strength from the light.

“Mud Splash. Together.” Asopo pulled back the purple sleeve of his dark coat. The key stone shone from his mega ring, reacting to Mud Splash’s Swampertite. Their souls connected. Asopo saw the world as Mud Splash and Mud Splash saw the world as Asopo. They were one, they were two, they were strong. Mud Splash was enveloped in light and changed, its arms getting thicker, its muscles getting stronger. Mega evolution.

“Hurricane, behind. Liquidation. Volcarona.” Drizzler flew behind Mud Splash chirping about how it was going to win. Carefully it surrounded Mud Splash with a cyclone, propelling them forward. Mud Splash channelled water energy through their fists and became a blue torpedo crashing into Volcarona.

“Well crap! Return!” Volcarona was lying flat on the ground with a dizzy look on its face. The girl returned it to the pokeball. “It’s all up to you now Frosmoth. I know we can still do it! Icy wind!” A chilling gale lashed at the legs of the opposing pokemon, slowing their strides and hindering their dexterity. “Rain dance.” Drizzler looked up at the skies and imagined a happy world where it could create puddles all day. “Pelipper Pel!” In the rain Mud Splash could move faster than a jet ski. With a tailwind behind it and lashing rain above it that icy wind meant very little.

“Liquidation.”

“Use feather dance!” Frosmoth blocked the heavy blows with a thick cushion of feathers. What followed was the prolonged struggle of a desperate bug and persistent sealife clashing their moves and running around the streets. Frosmoth kept blocking attacks and pulling itself out of danger. Occasionally Frosmoth would find a way to disappear from view, but Asopo and his pokemon remained alert, tireless. Never to be taken by surprise and rushing to corner Frosmoth until it ran away again. This girl was such an expert at escaping and hiding that the Frosmoth she trained was never caught by any of its pursuers. Instead it simply grew exhausted, struggling all on its own.

“Fr-frosss…” Fromoth collapsed to the ground and the girl recalled it. “Ugh, I want to get better at battling, but maybe I should just stick to running away…” Both trainers were exhausted, but the girl looked gloomy. She crossed her arms and sulked.

“...Are you okay?” Asopo readjusted his umbrella and shared the shelter with her.

“Y-yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s just that my favourite dress is all soggy now, and obviously I’m disappointed I lost. But stuff happens, right? You’ve got to keep going. Even if I only enjoyed the first half of that I still think you’re a really great trainer Asopo. I can see why everyone in this city likes to talk about your battles.” She looked back at her dress and felt the fabric drenched in water.

“Do you need a spare?” Asopo knew how much it sucked to be stuck in wet clothes, but he loved swimming anyway.

“No, no, I just need to dry it. I should be going now.” She let go of the umbrella they were both holding.

“My apartment has a dryer. We can feed our pokemon too.” The girl had made a move as if to walk away but stopped just as abruptly. She looked thoughtful and stared at Asopo. Everything about her at that moment seemed uncertain, nervous. She was struggling with a choice. She put her hand back on the umbrella handle. “Good idea, I’ll go with you for a little bit then.”

Asopo and the girl went for a long walk through the city, crossing roads and passing through parks. She told Asopo an anecdote about how she met her Snom who became Frosmoth. “Then I said, it’s ice to meet you! And I caught them with my pokeball.” Eventually they arrived at the Residential District and found the massive apartment complex where Asopo had been given a room by Rhodea.

Asopo showed the girl where his room was and then he went to the kitchen while she changed. She seemed so sad. Her pokemon adored her and persisted as much as they could for her sake. This girl was a good person who had to endure a lot, maybe even fended off some dangers. Probably with little or no protection from her parents. So really she seemed just like a lot of Asopo’s other friends. He realised he just acknowledged her as a friend and smiled.

When she came out of his room the girl was wearing the red and white dress Asopo found on Terajuma. It looked the same as the one Tesla wore, only fitted for Asopo instead. What was she doing? Hadn’t she learnt time and again that trusting strangers or getting close to other people endangered her? What if Asopo called the police? To escape from this building she would need to jump out a window and get one of her moths to catch her. Insane.

She could hear the hum of the drying machine, the repetitive sound of it functioning. It was dark outside but brightly lit within. Through the windows you could make out only your own reflection and some distant city lights. She could smell something too, a sweet warm scent. Asopo was making tea. “Huh? Asopo you didn’t need to do that.”

He slid the miniature plate along the counter to her side. “Here. Drink it, if you want.” Asopo picked up his own cup and sat down in front of the TV. The girl picked up the plate and slowly stepped over to the couch, nearly tripping over a pool noodle on the way. Mud Splash was chewing on it like a dog with a toy in its mouth. “Swammmp…”

She sat with Asopo and prayed he never watched the news. Turns out he did.

“Hello everyone~ It’s me, everyone’s favourite Gardevoir here with the latest and greatest in Breaking News!” The girl was relieved, somehow Asopo had tuned into the Reborn region’s news channel. It’s unlikely that Gossip Gardevoir would be covering stories of the wanted criminal who had fled to Aevium. She would’ve been really scared if Volta was the one on screen.

“Today I’m here in Calcenon City to interview the smouldering beauty famed for the flames– Charlotte Belrose!” The Gardevior was standing next to a woman with long pink hair and a red leather jacket.

“Yes it's nice to see that you kept your introduction for me consistent, even years later but I’d prefer if you toned down the peppiness for this one.”

“Oh? And why is that?” The girl noticed the indignation in Gardevoir’s voice, all but buried by her peppy mask. The passive aggressive smile on Gardevoir’s face unpleasantly reminded the girl of her own mother.

“Because. Look.” Charlotte gestured to all the burnt buildings of Calcenon city and her ice pokemon suppressing the last of the flames. “Hey, um… Asopo?” Asopo looked at her. Silently awaiting the rest of her question.

“Can we watch something else? This is a bit uncomfortable for me…” Asopo changed the channel. “Welcome to Gearen News. I’m your host, Volta!”

“UM! Can we change it again?!” Asopo changed it again. The next show was a true crime tv show hosted by a retired officer Jenny. They were about to interview a famous detective named Elaura.

“HUH! FUNNY HOW NOTHING ON TV TODAY IS REALLY MY CUP OF TEA!” Asopo turned to the girl, a humorous yet deadpan expression on his face. “But of course. Your cup of tea is right there.” The girl snatched the remote out of his hand and turned it off.

“...Okay. Sorry about that Asopo, it turns out I’m just not in the mood for this right now… I really hope I didn’t bother you.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Nice. Thanks for having me, but I think I should probably just leave now. Thanks for the tea, you’re really good at making it.” The girl stood up and turned around to make sure she didn’t leave anything on the couch.

“Mom Tesla taught me how. I mean Tesla. That’s what I call her.” Asopo was good at concealing it when he felt embarrassed, but she saw the cracks, yet decided not to pry. “Well Tesla taught you well. This is goodbye Asopo, thanks for being so nice to me.” The way she said that bothered Asopo. It sounded too dramatic, too definitive. At that moment Asopo finally realised he neglected to ask her name. He chased after her, looking through the hallways of the apartment complex, yet she was nowhere to be found. Already gone.

The next day Asopo had a wonderful time exploring the city with his friend Ren. A gym leader named Talon had set up some ‘mysteries’ for them to solve. The truth behind the mysteries is that they were either some dull tourist attractions or actual insanity. No in between. It culminated with a thrilling pokemon battle against Talon atop one of the highest buildings in the city.

As Asopo was walking away from the match with Talon, back towards the Residential District, an adult woman who looked the same age as Tesla approached Asopo. She had a heavy black coat and short brown hair. A Stoutland dutifully followed after her. “Excuse me! Are you Asopo?” He wasn’t expecting this woman to be dangerous, but instinctively his throwing arm adjusted itself over Mudsplash’s pokeball.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. You have quite a reputation in this city you know, while I was gathering information I came across your fan club in the Scholar District. Everyone I’ve asked about you claims you’re a powerful defender of the Aevium region. You’ve fought evil in many places, haven’t you?” This woman didn’t sound like she was praising Asopo, the tone was very as a matter of fact.

“Definitely.”

“Good. Ah, but where are my manners? My name is Elaura, Detective Elaura to you. I’ve come to bring another villain to your attention. One that I believe has recently entered the city. The fugitive, the renegade, the notorious and diabolical arsonist Butterfly!” Elaura held up a wanted poster. It was her, the girl Asopo met yesterday, who he had battled with, shared tea with and talked to.

“Hm? That’s an interesting expression. Asopo, do you know anything about Butterfly?” Asopo put on his best poker face and started weighing his options. The last time Asopo held his tongue and hid information about a criminal was with Flora. He knew Flora was dangerous and for that exact reason he thought reporting her immediately was too risky. Flora went on to bomb the GDC ball event and tried to seize the jewel of life on Eclysia Pyramid, nearly killing several of Asopo’s friends. He did not regret his decision considering the likely alternatives if Asopo had reported her after all, but clearly protecting a criminal like that could have destructive consequences.

Alternatively Asopo could report Butterfly and confirm that she was somewhere in this city. If he shared that information then he would need to commit to helping Elaura corner her and seeing that she faces the full consequences of every crime on her record. On paper helping the authorities catch an arsonist sounds like the right thing to do, but despite being an interpol agent Elaura would first need to bring Butterfly to the GDC authorities before returning her to the region she came from. Asopo knew that former mayor Cassandra wasn’t the only member of Team Xen in GDC’s government, so he felt they weren't trustworthy.

That’s what this choice came down to, trust. Did Asopo believe that Butterfly was a good person who shouldn’t be caught, or did he believe she was a threat?

He thought all of that in five seconds.

“Unfortunately I don’t know anything about her. I was just surprised that someone like her could be so dangerous.” Proper eye contact and a steady voice.

“I see where you’re coming from Asopo. It would shock most to learn that such a cute face could hide such a dark heart. Did you know that her first act of arson was an attempt to kill both of her own parents? Only one of them survived.” Asopo felt his chest tighten, but he didn’t change his mind.

“Well, you’re free to go Asopo. I simply thought it best that you should know about this, the city has been through enough this year already and I would hate to see anything worse happen. Goodbye.” Elaura walked off, though her Stoutland lingered for a moment to stare at Asopo.

Butterfly had found her way to The Underground, a separate city beneath the city in which many criminals and outcasts found a sanctuary. She felt as though she didn’t fit in at all. Everytime a person got near her she walked to the other side of the street. You could do so more safely and quickly in The Underground than you could above due to the total lack of automobiles. Butterfly had found a hotel run by people who seemed relatively sane and normal, but she was restless. She had that quiet impression of sadness that made her chest feel empty. She needed to talk to someone or do something. She was grateful for the company of her pokemon but she needed another person.

In The Underground city centre Butterfly saw a one storey building with lots of flashing lights around the corners and around the door. Next to the entrance was a small black sign with red writing that said ‘Madame Peony’s Fortune Telling’. Butterfly had never been the type to go to mystics and psychics for life advice, but since she had nothing better to do she may as well try it for fun.

Butterfly walked through the neon archway and pushed open the door beneath it, hearing the jingle of some shop bells and enjoying a break from all the bright flashing lights of the city. Instead this shop was lit only by candlelight. The actual interior made Butterfly uneasy, it looked like an abandoned casino that had been trashed, with many broken slot machines and some thrown on their side. “W-why is everyone down here so weird? I’m a bit different myself, but still…”

Someone coughed and Butterfly noticed the short old crone who probably owned this dump. “Hello there young lady, what are you doing here?” She had wild red hair tied into banana shaped knots around her head. She wore these comical round glasses, held a walking stick and her black dress had a green skirt that dragged on the ground with the effect of concealing her feet. Madame Peony looked ridiculous.

“Uh, nothing in particular really. I just read the sign that said you were a fortune teller.”

“Ah very good, but are you sure that’s what you want? Looking into the future has its consequences. You peer into a world that was not meant to be seen.”

“Well having a ball with you sounds better than having a bawl by myself in the corner somewhere, so I may as well.” The woman Butterfly kept internally calling an old crone didn’t have the lively reaction she was hoping for. “...A joke. I was telling a joke. Nevermind. If you aren’t going to tell my fortune then I’ll just leave and find something else to do.” Madame Peony straightened up with a crooked smile. “I like you, girl. I’ll tell your fortune for free, just because you put me in a good mood.”

Madame Peony stared into the crystal ball, the mist inside was moving about. Eventually they cleared and both of them could see Butterfly’s future…

Butterfly was old, as old as Madame Peony and about as strange looking. She was utterly alone, without any people or pokemon anywhere in sight. That quiet feeling, that absence in her chest which Butterfly knew too well, was intensified. It hadn’t gone away, not for any significant amount of time in her whole life. Butterfly had spent her entire life on the run. She had experienced minor misfortunes at every turn, sometimes with dire consequences. She had always been an unlucky person. No one had ever accepted her, no one had ever understood her. She was living in some remote mountain range in a wooden cabin as she waited to die. She had released her pokemon into a thriving forest she researched for ages. All types of bug pokemon lived in peace there. They would be happy. At least happier than they were the day Butterfly released them all.

She pressed her dirty blanket against herself while trying not to think about the sounds her moths made when she was leaving them behind, or the things she had to do and say to them so they would finally accept that she wasn’t their trainer anymore.

But Butterfly knew it was for the best. If she brought her pokemon to this place where she was dying and kept them linked to her pokeballs then who would release them afterwards? How would they survive this environment so unsuited to them? It had to be this way.

Butterfly stared at nothing and went to sleep for the final time.

Butterfly stumbled backwards and realised she was in tears. The vision had felt so real, so sensuous, as if she had actually gone through it. Madame Peony looked shocked and ashamed. “Oh, ummm… wow, that was worse than I thought. I’m very sorry, child.”

“I-I-I, what was that…?” Butterfly was pale, she felt weak.

“Well unfortunately that was your fate. The visions I allow my clients to experience are absolutely unchangeable and inevitable. Maybe you should visit my friend Sienna. She’s very wise and she might have some advice for you, or maybe…” Madame Peony paused, Butterfly could see behind those sunken eyes that she was weighing the odds on a sudden thought.

“Um… maybe what?” Butterfly sounded so small, she felt so small.

“...Maybe you should become acquainted with my other friend Asopo instead.”

“A-Asopo?!” It couldn’t be true, surely not the same Asopo.

“Yes. I’m familiar with a trainer named Asopo who doesn’t talk much, loves the rain and has frequently visited The Underground over the past few months while keeping it a secret. He’s also interested in fashion like how you seem to be. Maybe you’d get along.”

“Uh, yes. Maybe we would. I think I actually spoke with him before, but I never told him my name.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah he was nice to me and I was jealous of how his hair had grown out longer than mine.” Butterfly ran a finger through her own auburn hair.

“Heh, well I know this restaurant that’s also connected to a casino. It’s a great place to chat so how about I send you both over there?”

“Yeah okay.” Butterfly had dried her reddened face and steadied her breathing.

Asopo was walking back to the residential district after the talk with Elaura, but then his Rotom phone started buzzing. Madame Peony. He had exchanged contact details with her and Particia so they could alert each other if they learnt about the whereabouts of Dylan, V or Ana.

“Hello.”

“Ah hello Asopo. How are you today?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good, good. I’ve met someone I think you should come see. It’s this girl who visited me. She had a… misfortunate experience looking into the future with me and I think she needs your help. If you’re willing then you can meet her at the same pub in The Underground that you’ve visited with Dylan and Patty before.”

“I’ll go.”

“Thank you very much Asopo. Bye for now.”

He turned back the way he came and went to the night market. He located the elevator and held onto one of the bannisters. Metal grates of the platform descended. He felt the shift of his weight, the cool air of the ventilators on his face and listened to the machine function, it sounded like a heavy lifting machine. For a couple minutes he was in darkness, with just enough light to see the walls around him. Then the flash of The Underground and its neon colours. The elevator came to a halt.

Butterfly pushed open the doors and entered the building. The ‘pub’ looked like the people building it couldn’t decide on creating an actual pub or a 1980s Unovan restaurant instead. Butterfly arrived just in time to catch the tail end of a waitress screaming about Broadway or something. Butterfly glanced about and decided on a large cushioned chair in the corner where most people wouldn’t notice her.

Was this going to be alright? What if Asopo learnt she was a criminal? It’s so strange to think that Asopo and the old crone were on friendly speaking terms. How would the two of them have even met? How does Asopo even know about The Underground? Despite feeling uneasy, Butterfly had no intention of running from this chance. She just saw what a life of running would do to her… she had to take the risk.

The door opened and she glimpsed blue hair with patches of purple. The black and magenta jacket, the white shirt. It’s Asopo. He noticed her and approached. No backing out now. “Hi there.” Butterfly said, trying her best to sound casual. Her best wasn’t always enough.

“Hello.” Asopo sat down opposite her. Silence. They just stared at each other. Strange. Normally when Asopo stared at someone in silence they would just start talking at him and he could respond if he wanted. He’d need to take the lead this time. “So how long have you been on the run?”

Butterfly did an ever weary sigh. “...So you know. I’ve been running for too long. When did you learn?”

“A few hours ago. A detective named Elaura told me you were dangerous. She wanted to know if I knew anything.” Asopo saw Butterfly’s face pale.

“Oh… and what did you tell her?”

“Nothing.”

“H-huh?” Butterfly had this deer in headlights expression. Then she coughed. “So… what does that mean?”

“It means that Elaura doesn’t know where you are.”

“But why? Why would you lie to her? Why would you say that if she told you I was dangerous?”

“Because I’d like to decide that myself. Tell me everything so I can figure out what kind of person you are.” Asopo didn’t really trust the authorities to know the difference between good and evil. He just didn’t believe all the things being said about Butterfly.

“Well I didn’t have any clue what we were meant to talk about anyway. Explaining how I got into this mess is as good a topic as any I suppose. But I’ll only do it if you tell me about yourself as well, deal?”

“Yes.”

“Right. So I’ll start then.” Some colour had returned to her face by now. Maybe this would be a nice evening.

“It started with my parents. I guess you could say that about my entire life in general but at the start they were the only ones I wanted to run from. They despised me. They couldn’t stand who I was becoming or who I wanted to be. I really can’t bring myself to tell you the details but I had no choice other than to run from them. Staying with them would’ve been suffocating, miserable. I wouldn’t be able to live in a way that matters if I stayed with them.” Asopo could sense Butterfly’s resentment. It’s the kind of anger, the kind of grudge that someone holds onto when they feel powerless. Then she looked expectantly at Asopo.

“Your turn. How did your story start Asopo?”

“I was a disembodied spirit from another world that was called to take the place of a person named Alain who rejected their role. I think it’s beyond the scope of this conversation for me to fully explain this ‘role’ but I’ll answer further questions about where I came from.”

Butterfly had a strange smile. “Ahah, what? That’s a joke right?”

Asopo didn’t laugh. “Oh shit you aren’t joking. So can you elaborate on the whole ‘disembodied spirit’ thing?”

“I don’t fully remember but I have memories of swimming around somewhere. I think I was a magic fish. Sometimes I get dreams about another life where I was human. I think I came into existence as a fish spirit then born as a human but then back to being a fish. Maybe this sounds like madness to you but it’s the truth.” When Asopo was finished Butterfly nodded like she understood.

“I think I believe you actually. It’s just something about you that makes me think you wouldn’t lie about that. Your turn.”

“Butterfly, is it true that you tried to kill your parents?” Asopo didn’t sound accusatory or suspicious, he was just genuinely asking.

“No. Never. I don’t think I have it in me to hurt someone like that. Even if I’ve done it by accident once or twice. People think I tried to kill them because my home caught on fire at the same time I decided to leave for good. Also because the one who survived knew I had a larvesta and assumed I was to blame, which is typical of them actually.”

Asopo thought back to how his mother died.

Nancy never would’ve blamed him for anything, certainly not for her death. Regardless of what Nancy was or how their relationship started, Asopo knew they were mother and son. They loved each other and that bond was real.

“So Asopo, why did you start fighting Team Xen? I heard about your reputation. I suppose Elaura went to you because she knows you’re Aevium’s most prolific vigilante. I’d say it in a way that sounds less cheesy but isn’t that basically accurate? How did it start?”

“The S.S. Oceana bombing. Team Xen kidnapped everyone aboard other than me. I started fighting them to rescue my mom, but when I finally found her their leader killed her in front of me.”

“O-oh god… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Even if our time together was short it felt very special to me and I’m proud of her. She only died because she sacrificed herself to give everyone else more time to escape. Halfway through the sacrifice she realised she wanted to live after all but at that point it was too late. Some people might think her attempt to escape showed weakness and a failure to remain resolute, but I think it makes her even greater. She valued her life, she wanted to keep living but she risked it anyway. I’ll never forget that. My mom Nancy is my hero.”

They lingered on that thought.

“Asopo, normally I’d say that you have my sympathies, but you don’t. -What I mean is that Nancy sounds like the most wonderful person, I’m happy for you. Oh yeah, uh, your turn to ask a question.”

Asopo composed himself, then asked “So what’s it like being on the run? Do you think there’s any chance we can exonerate you?”

“It feels nice to know that someone wants to help me but I’ve already been on the run for years. At first I really didn’t know what I was doing, only escaping through dumb luck. By now though? I’d say I’ve gotten pretty good at running away. I’ve got lots of techniques for hiding and fleeing using my pokemon. But it’s scary. I always feel isolated because there’s no one on my side, everytime I’m out in public I worry about someone recognising me. Also Elaura won’t stop chasing me. She’s getting good at it. As well hidden as The Underground is, I’m sure she’ll find it. Even though it’d be nice to get proven innocent I think that I’ve committed enough minor offences as well as accidental manslaughter that I’ve lost hope of that ever happening.” Butterfly sounded so defeated, so tired. It reminded Asopo of his own experiences of futility.

“Never lose hope. As long as you persist there’s always the possibility.”

“I guess, but what’s even supposed to happen? What can I do? I’m getting sick of being alone.”

“You won’t be anymore. I want to be friends with you, and there’s some people I can introduce you to.” Those words reduced her to tears. Asopo didn’t try to quiet her. Crying was good. Asopo enjoyed a breakdown when things were overwhelming.

“Asopo. I can’t remember the last time anyone said that to me. I don’t think anything made me that happy in a long time. Who are these other people you know?”

“My friends Erin, Melia, Ren, Aelita, Venam, Kanon, Amber and some others. That reminds me, we’re going to be really busy for the rest of the month because we’re preparing to raid Team Xen’s base and stop them for good. We’re working with the Champion of Aevium and some other elite trainers. I’ll contact you from time to time but I’m busy.”

“Yeah and I’m tired, but even something like this means a lot to me. Thanks for giving me this chance Asopo. Even if I’m still on the run, knowing that someone like you believes in me makes everything feel much better.” Butterfly stood up and walked towards the door, there was a spring in her step. She was happier. She looked back at Asopo one more time.

“By the way, if you’re ever stuck for a good outfit come find me and I’ll stitch something together for you. Just try to keep it out of the rain!”

And that's the story. @lemonade-juley I hope that I potrayed Butterfly accurately. I educated my interpretation of her by reading a lot of the asks you received about her and reading the stuff you included in your posts on the character. I just thought that the character was such a funny and interesting premise that I wanted to create a longer story about her. To anyone else, thank you so much for reading this entire fanfiction about a pair of obscure pokemon ocs.

#pokemon rejuvenation #pokemon fan game #oc asopo #noctor writes #oc: butter #it's going to be a long time before I write another fic this long so if you're into that I hope you enjoy it

3 notes · View notes