#where she's actually not a mafia member

[twentydaysofdrabbles]

The Concierge Goes Tracking - Pounce (Part 18)

You don’t miss the number of familiar faces dotting the streets as you make your way over to a stout apartment complex, box of pie in hand. Women sitting at an al fresco cafe, coffees in hand. Men jogging along the street. All of them look at you, then look away just as quickly. 

A small downturn of your brows is the only indication that you found any of it out of place. It seemed as though they were waiting for something. What exactly, you can only guess.

Tap tap tap go the heels of your shoes as you move from pavement, to stone, to tile. The sound echoes in the stairwell, then the hallway, until you finally come to a stop in front of a plain apartment door. There, you pause. Long enough that you can focus on the soft breathing on the other side of the door, on the soft scent of pie crust and freshly cut grass. She’s here. 

Knock knock.

Nothing. Not even the skip of a breath, a slightest shuffle of feet. 

You try again. Knock knock.

“Who’s there?” comes a soft, firm voice. Entirely human sounding. 

You hate that you have been acquaintances with Sans long enough that the first thing that comes to mind is a knock knock joke.

“Howl.” Well, technically it isn’t far from what you’ve been doing the whole afternoon. 

“...howl who?” Oh goodness, she sounds so perplexed yet curious. Is this how you sound when you react to Sans’ puns?

Well, nothing for it. “Howl you know if you don’t open the door?”

A soft snort, a stifled giggle, and finally the soft shuffle of feet. The deadlock to the door opens, along with a whole host of locks. When the door finally swings open, you have to look up and up to meet the former Queen’s dark eyes. Only slightly shorter than King Asgore, if you had to guess, with small horns, long ears, and luxurious white fur. Her broad shoulders fill the frame, her plain green dress doing nothing to hide her build. 

But she...

You take her in without a shift of your eyes. She looks haggard, the fur around her neck ruffled and flattened, as though she had smoothed her fur over the skin, as if there were a missing patch. The way she holds an arm tells you that her bicep aches, that she won’t be able to lift it past her ribs. Something happened to her.

The goat monster only shakes her head at you and ushers you in quickly. “That was a terrible joke,” she says with a small smile, closing the door behind you as you step in. But not before she casts a glance at the hallway behind you - empty.

You hate that you gave into the urge to use such a joke, but it did work. Your notes indicated that she was fond of such things, and far be it for you not to use it to your advantage. “Good afternoon, Miss Toriel,” you incline your head, the pie balanced between your hands. “My apologies for interrupting your day.” Then you extend the boxed pie to her, freshly baked and burning against your gloved hands. “Please accept a housewarming gift.”

Toriel looks at you sharply, already backing away with her hands raised in a defensive posture. “I should have known--!” she hisses, fire sparking between her fingers in an intimidating show of magic.

The taste of it is heavy on your tongue, ash building on your taste buds. And yet you do not move, the pie still held before you. “Peace, Miss Toriel.” The intensifying heat in the apartment causes your breaths to linger in your chest. “I come on behalf of those who wish to see you unharmed.”

“Unharmed but captured, is that it?” the former Queen growls. 

You don’t blink, you don’t flinch, you don’t move. “No. Unharmed and safe.” Slowly, you open the top of the box and immediately the warm scent of butterscotch fills the air. “I come on behalf of the owner of the Continental Hotel. She wishes to invite you to high tea with her.”

Toriel still looks suspicious, though the heavy taste of ash dies down. “A bribe.”

“An invitation.” Like the pie still held out to her. “A bribe would have been snail pie, but I have it on good authority that I would be hard pressed to find one better than what you can make.” You make sure that your tone is even, with no inflection. 

The fur on the back of the former Queen’s shoulders rise. “On whose authority?” She sounds less wary even though she still looks tense. Good.

Without hesitation, you answer, “Mx Frisk.”

White furred hands fly to her snout and she gasps. “Frisk! Oh, my child,” she breathes out shakily into her cupped hands. “Please, is Frisk--is my child safe?”

“Safe and waiting at the Continental, Miss Toriel.” Your head tilts deliberately in a silent question. Why is she so worried if she was the one who left Frisk alone in the first place? You can only think it has to do with the increased activity in this area. Someone has taken an interest in her, but not in Frisk. 

It’s almost as if she deflates on the spot, staggering and slowly sinking into the couch. “Oh stars...Frisk...” But she caught your question, eventually looking up from her hands and gesturing you closer. When you do, she takes the pie from your hands and smiles through her tears at the freshly baked pie. 

“Please, sit. Did you want some as well?” She heads for the kitchen.

“Certainly,” you say with an incline of your head, sitting primly in the armchair adjacent to the couch from where she had sat. The former Queen bustles in the kitchen for plates and a cake knife and cutlery. Letting you inspect the apartment without scrutiny.

Bare bones, sparsely furnished. Curtains drawn. A lamp here and there to illuminate the room, but no overhead lights. A safehouse perhaps? The former Queen clearly does not want to be found. 

“Here,” her paw comes out from your peripheral vision, offering a slice of butterscotch pie and a little fork next to it. 

You nod, taking it. “My thanks.”

For a while, there is no sound save for the clinking of cutlery on porcelain, of the soft sounds of eating. You, too, slowly take measured bites of the pie. Not because you dislike the taste, but out of habit. Best not to ingest too much lest you need to exert yourself later. 

When the former Queen is finished with her slice, she finally speaks up, her doe-like eyes fixed upon her plate. “Asgore is a fool. More heart than sense,” she bites out, her eyes flaring as she looks up into your impassive face. “I told him to stay out of human politics on that scale, but he never listens to me. And now look where we are, more eyes on us that we can afford.”

Toriel grinds her teeth, the sound louder than even the rattling of her plate as it trembles in her grip. “All I wanted...” Tears fall from eyes squeezed shut. “I just wanted to live in peace...”

You can only listen quietly, your plate cradled on your lap. It is odd. To listen to someone just...pour their heart out to you. In all your years, that has not once happened to you, not even with the Manager who can boast to be the closest to your heart and you to hers. 

Feeling endlessly awkward at being unable to say anything, you elect not to, maintaining a polite expression as you listen to her. 

And that seems to be enough for Toriel. The goat monster wipes away her tears and sets her plate on the coffee table, sighing heavily. “What did my child say about Asgore, when they asked you to find me?” She looks at you, gaze expectant. 

Oddly enough, you find yourself compelled to answer. Interesting. “That he could not be trusted.”

Toriel nods sharply in response. “Gorey--that is, Asgore. He wants me...” She groans, as if she was struggling to force the words out. “Safe. Or as safe as he thinks I can be. I didn’t agree with his version of ‘safety’.” Though she does not gesture to her neck, you can tell what the bare ring of skin indicates. 

The King wanted her safe. At all costs. 

The former Queen lets her head fall back into her hands with a groan, muttering under her breath, “Fucking Alphys...”

You pretend not to hear it. For a few minutes, you stay quiet, allowing Toriel to gather her thoughts. 

“Did Asgore get what he wanted?” She doesn’t lift her head from her hands.

How to answer that question. “No,” you answer evenly, placing your half-eaten plate on the coffee table. “But they are now bound by the rules of the Continental.”

At that, the former Queen stirs. “I thought that might happen,” she breathes out slowly. Finally, she scrubs at her face and sighs. “Then...” Blazing doe-like eyes burn into your dead ones. “Would you kindly escort me to the Continental Hotel, Concierge?” And from a pocket of her dress, she pulls out a gold coin. 

Dead eyes flick from hers to the coin, and then back again. A polite smile spreads on your face. “Of course.” 

You take the coin.

And all hell breaks loose.

[silkentine]

All I could think while drawing Nami was, “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?” And, of course, with Robin I was thinking, “save a horse… 🥵”

Design Notes and other opining below the cut:

For Nami, I wanted to go for a mix of cocky Jersey mafia newbie and surfer boy. I like to think that some of the horrendous outfit choices that Sanji makes (especially in the movies) were actually picked out by Nami. She’s the shopper!!! But yeah, the vibrant swim trunks and graphic tees just scream Nami. I also wanted to put him in a wetsuit/rash guard because I think that’s a sexy look so sue me if you hate it. You cannot argue with me that Nami doesn’t wear swimsuits as clothes.

He’s toned but not as muscular as Robin or Luffy (for example) because he isn’t a front-line fighter, I want him to maintain the same kind of role that Nami has in the animanga. He’s the best navigator in the world!! I couldn’t decide if I wanted to change the violent tendencies that Nami has, but ultimately I think he’d still give the more deserving members of the crew a healthy wallop (although I might portray it more cartoonishly). Boy Piece!Nami still grew up under Arlong’s authority so he spent a lot of his childhood walking on eggshells to protect his village and his brother, Nojiko, so I think he never really got to learn “you’re not supposed to hit people just because they frustrate you” lesson. I gave him a shark-tooth necklace because surely Arlong had a few loose teeth to spare once Luffy took her down. Victory spoils LOL

If he can get the girls to stop wrestling and sit down quietly for a while, he likes to host card games (with betting, of course) or watch the clouds while sipping whatever fruity cocktail Sanji whips up. I believe that Canon!Nami is a total lesbian, and I can’t possibly envision a Nami who doesn’t like women so Boy Piece!Nami is bi. I am, of course, a Namivivi truther and Vivi is also a man in this AU. I don’t hate Sanami within this dynamic though… lots to think about.

Okay!!! All-shipper mindset aside, let’s talk Robin. I gave him long hair because 1) it’s hot and 2) I think it makes him look like Dragon. Yeahhh, I subscribe to the Luffy and Robin are half-siblings theory because I think it’s funny and makes some sense. Crocodile is 100% Luffy’s Mom in this AU and I think Robin knows it LOL

For his outfits, I wanted to lean a bit more Indiana Jones where I could; he’s still primarily cowboy inspired though. For the main look, I went with the Skypeia color palette hehe, I think Robin looks good in yellow. I did some flower-petal shaped color blocking on his chaps because I think it’s cute and subtle. I really love that the powers of the Hana-Hana-no-mi are like… unexpected for a “flower flower” fruit and I think Robin would be more aware that juxtaposition as a guy. You might also be wondering about the gloves and I initially just had it for his cowboy look but I decided to put them on all the outfits up until the events of Enies Lobby. Canon!Robin has a really difficult childhood and I think it’s exacerbated by the fact that she’s a girl on her own. If Robin was a boy, he’d probably have an easier time living on his own but would be a lot less emotionally open. All of these elements combine to make him want that physical barrier between his real hands and the world. Once he can trust that the Strawhats will always be there for him, he’s more willing to be more physically open.

I also think it’d be cute if he was much more of a coffee drinker :3c I see Canon!Robin as a connoisseur who likes a well-brewed espresso but Boy Piece!Robin needs a cup of joe (no matter its quality) every chance he can get. So I drew him with his special #1 ARCHAEOLOGIST mug.

It would make me so happy if you left your thoughts in the tags or replies!! Even if you hate everything about them, I just really like engagement hahaha. I’m thinking girl Usopp is next despite the poll results because she’s on my mind rn (don’t hold me to this, LOL I’m fickle). I’m making these for fun so I just wanna make designs in the order that interests me the most. Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog to see all the genderbends I have so far. And happy pride!!!

[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

1996

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just a moment longer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm no one's girl—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He touched you."

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

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

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's no go, Dad."

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

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

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

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

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

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

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Without putting your shoes on?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Smart, just like he is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But it's time to go home."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Namjoon—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let's go," he said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was waiting till you'll—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you, baby."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

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

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

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

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

"So, lunch it is then?"

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

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

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

Today feels different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Waiting—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Trust me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The calm shattered in an instant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Peaches!"

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𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝

©pennyellee. please do not repost

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

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

see you next time, love, p.

[fireboltposts]

When Chris comes across fanfiction you've written about him

A/N : Hope you like this silly scenario haha. Picture credit goes to the owner. On that note, I wonder if Chan has a secret Tumblr account haha, I wouldn't put it past him.

• It was Chris' day off and he was lying on his bed under the blanket with his phone in his hand, scrolling through his private Instagram that only his close ones knew of and the one he used to stalk his fans.

• As usual, it was his favourite hobby to stalk Stays online, always curious to see what Stays were up to. He was scrolling through edit after edit, some where he was being the adorable Channie and "cute as a button", according to Stays' language, not his, and others where he was in full on wildin' in Christopher mode on stage.

• He chuckled at some of the comments made by Stays and felt shy at the same time. What he gathered was one group of people found him super adorable (he wondered how on earth could people find him adorable when there were the other members in the group) while other Stays were thirsty, each comment made him flustered and left him red in the face, it was like he was in his own episode of Thirst Tweets.

• He scrolled down next to find your fanfiction titled "Dangerous Alliances" pt 15. It was a fanfiction about him. He was intrigued to read it especially seeing the dark edit of himself in a black suit.

• He was fascinated by the way you portrayed him as a powerful and the most feared mafia boss, mysterious and alluring, surrounded by danger. He was used to being seen as the leader and "protective older brother" type, but the idea of him being a dangerous mafia boss was a wild twist to his personality.

• As he starts reading from part 1, he raises his eyebrows at your gritty and intense portrayal of him, surrounded by his seven trusted men, as in the rest of Stray Kids, each one had a different and important role. In the story he had a painful past and he also discovered that his parents were a part of the mafia in the past. He was back and had risen up the ranks.

• As he read on, though, he’d become more intrigued, maybe even amused, secretly flattered by your imaginative take on his character. He’d never imagined anyone thinking of him that way, the dark brooding mafia boss with a dangerous aura only soft for his seven friends and the reader who was not from the mafia but was just as daring and didn't even hesitate to take a bullet for him by his enemy and almost had seen death in the face (his world had almost collapsed that day but he was so so so relieved you were alive).

• Wow, he thought, the female lead here is strong and intense and fiercely loyal to his mafia character and takes no shit as he read the part where your character, the reader, had come back and threatened the enemy that whoever hurt Chris would have her to deal with her, and you had eliminated the threat that made the other mafia families treat you with respect and fear and see you as a force to be reckoned with and not just Chris' lover or just some woman.

• Chan would seriously be impressed by how you turned him into a powerful, mysterious figure, even if it’s such a different side of him. Part of him would want to laugh it off, but he’d find himself getting invested in the storyline, wondering what’s going to happen next. He was shocked when it was revealed that the reader actually was a lost mafia princess on a mission, and that she was seducing him just to eliminate him and all that bullet taking for him was all an act.

• Chris was reading with two eyebrows raised now, completely lost in the storyline. He was eager to know what happened next and kind of wanted a happy ending only to discover that part 16 was not yet posted. He saved the posts and followed your account,clearly wanting to read the next part as soon as it was released.

• After reading, Chan would decide to leave a supportive, playful comment, making sure to stay in character as a fan without giving himself away.

• @ cblurking97 : "OMG, I LOVE this version of Chan! 😳 The way you wrote him as this powerful, feared mafia boss is so intense—it’s like he’s a completely different person! I bet the real Chan would be so shocked if he saw this. 😂 And the twist 😳. Keep it up, author ! You’ve got me hooked!! 👏🔥 I do hope it's a happy ending though 😅".

• Chris would chuckle after posting, secretly entertained by the idea of encouraging you in disguise. He’d feel a bit mischievous, knowing you’d never suspect the actual person you were writing about was hyping you up in the comments.

• Chan would be thoroughly amused by his anonymous support. Part of him would feel proud that someone could see his leadership qualities in such an intense light, even if the setting was a bit extreme.

• His thoughts after commenting would be something like "well, that’s one way to think of me, but wow, this person is really talented… I wonder how the story will end."

• He’d quietly enjoy the way you’d brought such a unique version of him to life and rooting for you as a "fellow fan" from afar, looking forward to the plot development.

A/N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. The rest of my masterlist is here.

[allur1ngs]

✮ enflame ✮

TW: bada being too fine for her own good, a little bit of possessive!bada, lots of protective!bada, cold!bada (to anyone who isn't you), super brief mentions of violence, bada having beef w your bodyguard, pushy men, btw the picture to the farthest right is purely for aesthetics and not meant to represent reader’s skin tone or body type!!

SUMMARY: you manage to tear bada away from her work for an evening of shopping, where the soft spot she has for you is unveiled.

part iii. bloody knuckles

WC: 2.9k

A/N: read this for more background on this au. this is not exactly a part two to the headcanons but i got this idea out of nowhere so yeahhh

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada's actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

From the moment Bada arose from her slumber, she sensed that her day would be draining. Usually, waking up before the sun had the chance to peak above the horizon wasn't difficult for her—so many years of doing so had made sleep fatigue all too familiar. However, last night, she stayed awake into the wee hours of the morning, something she typically tried to avoid.

So when her body starts to naturally wake up only a few hours later, she groans loudly into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut and mentally cursing her past self for staying up so late.

Although all she wants is to stay in bed more than anything, she forces herself to rise from her plush king-sized bed and tosses the warm sheets aside.

Briefly, she turns around to gaze at the spot where she had just been lying when a thought strikes her. You must be asleep in your own bedroom. Curled up in a similar, large bed, a pocket of heat cradling your figure while your chest slowly rises and falls. Your eyes must be tightly shut, eyelashes fluttering as you fight to remain asleep despite the rays of sunlight that will soon begin to peek through your curtains. Your soft lips must be pursed together. Your lips...

Bada wishes you both shared the same bed. She wishes she hadn't been so courteous to buy you a new bed, comfortable sheets, and all the amenities you needed when you first arrived. She wishes instead that you were lying in her bed. She wishes she could wrap her arms around you, and pull you close whilst you slept. She wishes she could foster a beautiful heat between your two bodies. She wishes she could run her fingers across your skin--

Bada shakes her head, sighs loudly, and turns away sharply from her bed. She rubs her eyes as she makes her way over to her dresser, mumbling berating words under her breath for thinking of you in such a way. It's not appropriate and beyond that, those types of thoughts lead to feelings, which she does not--cannot have for you.

Bada's day seems to worsen after dressing herself in her usual attire, a freshly ironed black suit and slacks. The fabric touches her uncomfortably, and still feeling the edges of sleep mar her vision, everything is suddenly bothering her.

But the final nail in the coffin is when Lusher, one of Bebe's most trusted mafia members, walks into her office hours later, carrying a tray of breakfast.

Immediately looking up from the papers in front of her, Bada expects to see your lovely face greet her, but is met with Lusher's cheeky expression instead. She tries not to display her palpable disappointment, but concealing her feelings has never quite been her strong suit. Her mother had told her this many times when she was younger.

"Don't jump out of your seat in excitement, now." Lusher jokes, placing the breakfast tray on the desk.

Bada's lips tighten into a firm, thin line as she stares down at the food, feeling her hunger quickly escape her. "Thanks."

"I know I'm not who you wanted to see, but I can't lie, your disappointment hurts me." Lusher moves a hand to her chest, acting like she'd been wounded.

Bada sighs, shaking her head. "Why isn't she here this morning?"

"Still in bed, apparently." Lusher clasps her hands behind her back. "We found her asleep on the couches late last night. She must have been waiting for you to leave your office so she could wish you a good night, but ended up falling asleep out of exhaustion."

The butterflies that dance in Bada's stomach internally, are a stark contrast to the disapproving expression she wears externally. "I've told her many times not to wait up for me. It's not healthy to be staying up so late."

Lusher sighs dramatically. "You're telling me. How many times have I asked you to head to bed earlier?"

"That's different." Bada denies while picking up her golden ink pen and continuing to write. "I have work to do. Waiting so late into the morning just to wish me a good night is..."

"Sweet? Incredibly kind, and definitely a testament to how endearing your fiancée is?"

Bada clicks her tongue in annoyance. "What are you still doing here? Don't you have something better to do than bothering me?"

"You know there's nothing I like more than bothering you." Lusher shoots back with a sly smile.

Bada tried to continue working, she really did. She attempted to push through filling out papers, even though her wrist was screaming at her to take a break. However, come midday, she was already fed up.

Ruffling her hair and groaning loudly, Bada stands up from her table, the chair she'd been sitting out whining loudly against the floor. She wastes no time in shuffling to the door, grabbing the handle, and pulling it open.

Right when she does, she catches a flash of your figure walking down the hall toward her, your bodyguard only a few paces behind you. As her gaze connected with yours, she felt as if the world transformed, shifting from monochrome sketches to vibrant watercolor paintings

"Oh." You speak first, an easy smile finding your lips. "Good afternoon, Bada."

"Good afternoon." She greets back, trying her damnedest not to sound overjoyed at your presence. "Were you coming to see me?"

"I was." You nod. "I just wanted to let you know I'm planning on going to the mall."

"Are you now?" Bada says absentmindedly, her hand coming up to clutch at her tie and loosen it. The fabric suddenly feels much too tight around her neck.

"Yes..." You trail off, your eyes taking in how Bada's pale and lithe fingers grab at her tie and jostle it around, making it dangle a bit messily across her collarbones. Such a simple action should not be so attractive, no--it shouldn't. It's really ridiculous how easy it is for your fiancée to be so naturally alluring.

"That sounds nice." She hums. "Are you looking to buy something in particular?"

"No, not really." You shake your head. "I'm really just going to look around, and not stay at home all day."

Home. Bada's heart warms at you calling the mansion you both reside in your home. Although it technically is, it's different for you to perceive it as such. It means you feel comfortable here, with her--living with her--

"You should come with me." Your voice brings Bada out of her stupor, her eyes immediately finding yours.

Her mouth opens and closes dumbly, a clear look of shock painted across her face. She tries to quickly gather her bearings, half-heartedly muttering out, "I--I wish I could, but I have a lot of work to do--"

"Bada, all you do is work," you remark, crossing your arms over your chest. She has to force herself not to think about how cute you look doing so. "You deserve to have some downtime. Even if it is only for a few hours."

She stands there, still a bit shell-shocked, staring at you before her eyes shift to the figure behind you, finding your bodyguard, who is trying very hard to conceal her amused smile behind a shaky hand.

Bada's gaze turns icy as she eyes down your bodyguard, prompting the subordinate to immediately turn away and dispel her smile. "All right. I'll come with you."

"Wait, really?" You awe, your eyes going wide and your smile growing. "I didn't think you'd actually say yes."

"Well, you're right. I do need a break. At the rate I'm working at now, I'll never do anything productive by the end of the day." Bada admits with a tired smile. "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Yes." You begin to nod, but your smile slowly turns into a frown. "But you should change into different clothing."

For the second time that day, Bada is left surprised by your boldness. "Change? Why?"

"Don't you want to wear something other than a suit for once?" You ask innocently. "It seems... stuffy to be in it all day."

"Stuffy." She laughs breathily. "I guess you're right." Bada looks between you and your bodyguard. "Will you be all right to wait for me?"

"Of course." You smile.

"Great." She smiles back.

When Bada comes back, she isn't wearing her usual black suit. And although you'd been the one to suggest it, you're not quite ready for how amazing she looks in casual clothing.

A black leather jacket is draped over her shoulders, with slick white lines running down the sleeves and across the chest. She has paired the jacket with matching black leather pants and a black shirt.

In that moment, you want to scream at whatever higher power exists for making your fiancée so unfairly attractive. How were you supposed to act normal around her when her mere presence makes you hot below the collar?

Well, despite your internal struggles you give her a compliment before you're off to the mall, hopping into a sleek black sports car and speed away.

Your first destination in the large mall is a relatively luxurious clothing store. You can't lie; you had wanted to go into the store since you passed it on one of your trips to the mall without Bada, but you were too intimidated to enter. However, now, with her by your side, you feel much more comfortable stepping into the expensive store.

Approaching the door, your bodyguard begins to step forward, about to open the door for you like she always does, but Bada is quicker. She grabs onto the handle and opens the door, stepping aside to make room for you to walk in.

You look at her and smile while mumbling a soft thank you, to which she gives you a small smile back and nods. Your bodyguard begins to walk in after you, but again Bada is faster and enters the store, letting the door swing closed behind her. It almost hits your bodyguard in the face, making her flinch back and sigh.

"Keep a look out from there," Bada tells her sternly through the glass doors.

"Yes, Boss," your bodyguard begrudgingly mumbles back, understanding that this is payback for teasing your fiancée earlier.

Bada turns back around, her eyes easily finding you in the small crowd of people. You're looking around the store with wide eyes, a smile gracing your lips as you observe the embellished clothing around you. She smiles fondly to herself, finding every expression of yours much too cute for your own good.

However, before she can make her way to you, the familiar sound of a voice greets her from behind. Turning around, she finds In-Su, one of her business partners and the owner of the clothing store. Greeting him back, an air of professionalism immediately envelops her as she begins to engage in conversation with him

Meanwhile, you're in your own personal heaven. The clothing you've been browsing is exactly your style, and despite the high prices, you know you can afford it all, thanks to the black credit card Bada had gifted you.

A few minutes later, your hands are already starting to get full as you reach to pull another article of clothing from the rack when you suddenly feel a firm force push into your side, causing you to lose your balance and almost fall to the floor. making you lose your balance and almost fall to the floor. Thankfully, you manage to steady yourself before you do, huffing while turning to your right to see what--or more accurately who--had bumped into you.

"Excuse me." A well-dressed man stands a few feet away from you, his lips forming a snobbish frown.

Despite your irritation, you instinctively apologize. "Oh, sorry--"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, eyeing you up and down. "You should be careful where you stand."

Internally, you scoff at the man, but externally, you only mumble another half-hearted apology before turning away and walking down another aisle.

"Have I seen you before?" The man follows after you.

"I don't think so." You answer back flatly, trying to ignore him and busy yourself by flipping through pairs of jackets.

"I swear I've seen you before. I never forget the face of a beautiful woman."

This time, you're unable to control your expression and outwardly cringe. Is this random man who bumped into you flirting with you right now? After acting so rude?

You say nothing to him in response, choosing to completely ignore him instead.

"You know, when someone compliments you, it's common courtesy to say thank you."

Now you're starting to get increasingly anxious. You don't feel brave enough to confront the man, but he doesn't seem to understand that you're not interested and clearly uncomfortable with his advances.

Taking your silence in offense, the man scowls before grabbing your wrist rather roughly, making you drop all the clothing you'd been holding, and twists you around to face him.

You gasp at his painful hold, attempting to break away from him but unable to due to the sheer strength of his grip. "Let me--" you begin, but the words die in your mouth upon seeing someone standing behind him.

The man, who had been staring you down, notices the shift in your expression and suddenly becomes aware of a very strong presence behind him. He turns around, still gripping your wrist, and comes face to face with a scarily calm Bada Lee.

"Do you need something?" He snaps at her dumbly.

Bada stares down at him with steely eyes, her expression so devoid of emotion you're almost terrified for him. "I believe I should be asking you that question. Is there a reason why you're touching my fiancée?"

The man looks between you and Bada, scoffing disapprovingly. "Tch, she didn't tell me she was engaged."

"Even if she wasn't, in what world would it be appropriate to touch a woman who clearly isn't interested in your pathetic advances like that?" She asks rhetorically, her voice rising with every syllable. Clearly, her anger was getting to her.

The man grits his teeth, feeling his ego bruise because not only is Bada embarrassing him, but she's also easily intimidating him with her presence. "Hey, just who do you think you are?" He raises his voice to match hers.

"I think the real question is," Bada takes a step closer, leaving hardly any space between her and him, "who the fuck do you think you are?"

In that moment, the man's entire demeanor shifts. He turns to look around the store, finding every shopper, worker, and even the store owner staring back at him, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes set into firm glares. Some of them have their hands in their pockets or are grabbing something hidden next to them. His face pales, and looking back at Bada, her face starts to become familiar. He hadn't recognized her out of her normal formal attire, but now--

He gulps, quickly letting go of your wrist like your skin burned him and steps away from you both, his posture shrinking. He starts to make his way toward the exit, attempting to ignore the stares of everyone in the store but is stopped before he can make it out.

"And where do you think you're going?" Bada's hardened voice echoes through the store, making the man freeze in his spot, his entire body going rigid.

Bada's footsteps slowly approach him from behind again and stop just shy of him.

"You made her drop her clothing."

The man turns around, avoiding eye contact with Bada and finding your eyes instead. He's about to mumble an apology when she speaks up again.

"Pick it up." She demands flatly.

The man stays still in his spot, shocked and embarrassed. But clearly, he didn't move fast enough for Bada's liking, because he feels himself get shoved in your direction, almost falling onto his face.

"Do it. Now." She says, her voice bordering on yelling.

Immediately, the man throws himself onto the floor, scrambling to pick up every article of clothing he made you drop. He does so as quickly as possible, then stands up, about to pass you the clothing, when he feels Bada's unwavering gaze bore into him and decides it's in his best interest not to touch you anymore, so he carefully drapes the clothes across your arms.

He turns back to face Bada, approaching her with a cold sweat.

"Hold on." She stops him yet again. "You bumped into her, didn't you?"

"I--" He tries to explain himself but is cut off.

"Apologize."

This time, the man wastes no time in fulfilling her demands. He turns to you, apologizing profusely while shaking like a leaf. You're unable to even think about accepting his apologies before he practically runs to the store doors, throws them open, trying to leave the mall. But as always, Bada is ten steps ahead.

She nods at your bodyguard, who grabs onto the man's suit with little effort, turns him around, and punches him straight in the gut.

Bada then steps in front of you, blocking you from seeing what your bodyguard is doing to the man. Her hands grab the clothing from your arms, relieving you of their weight before slinging them across her right shoulder. She then gently holds your wrist up to her eyes, the ice behind them shifting to a warm and caring glow.

"Does it hurt?" She asks softly.

You feel your body turn to mush at the attention she gives you. "A little."

Bada sighs, leans in, and places her soft lips against your wrist, kissing it with a reverence and sweetness everyone besides you is surprised to see.

It's clear to everyone that the ice around Bada's heart melts only for you.

enflame: to excite to excessive or uncontrollable action or feeling

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: II

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: A late valentine's gift <3 I’m so sorry for taking so long. A lot happened and work is the busiest and and and life.

Masterlist, Latibule 2.I

“Hyung, did you hear me? I said-"

Kim Namjoon sighed from the other line, headache already creeping up his temples from the boatload of information Jimin was dumping on him on the other line. As who he considered to be the only sound and sane one among the seven, Namjoon was accustomed to being the voice of reason, getting the boys out of tight illegal situations, and managing the members. Min Yoongi might be the head of the mafia, but all seven of them were leaders in their own right and fields.

Seokjin was the head of the medical field, Namjoon of the twisted world of law, Jungkook of the technology world.

And this definitely was one of Namjoon’s specialties: stopping the fearless and heart-stricken leader of Bangtan from kidnapping a woman in broad daylight. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t even against the illegal act itself, but could he just do it when there weren’t eyes watching him?! When the sun wasn’t at its highest?! When he wouldn’t be tomorrow’s headline?!

He ran his hand through his disheveled hair, glaring at the eldest hyung who was chuckling to himself. Seriously, he thought doctors were supposed to have no life and no time to annoy their friends? Why then was the Chief of the hospital barging in his office and lounging on his fancy sofa?

“I’m glad you found this amusing, hyung,” he commented dryly which only made the eldest laughed harder. “This isn’t something to laugh about.”

“What?! We all know something is definitely wrong with Yoongi. This isn’t news to us! This only confirmed our suspicions!”

“You could at least be supportive of what he’s going through right now.”

“Namjoon,” he started when he was finally done laughing, wiping the tears from the side of his eyes. “How do you expect me to be supportive of him right now? He’s on the verge of kidnapping a woman because he thought she looked like her. Does that make sense to you?”

He tilted his head before standing up, his movement elegant as he crossed the room to where Namjoon was sitting behind his desk. He smiled down at him, his hand supporting his weight as he leaned down on his wooden desk. “Dead people don’t exactly come back to life after burning from a fire as immense as that one, do they?” he asked, his tone light yet his eyes held faux curiosity. And at that moment, an air of danger surrounded the office. He could see the coldness that reflected on Jin’s eyes.

Namjoon knew when to back down, especially when Jin was in this mood. It was almost comical how quickly Jin’s emotions could switch, and it was definitely not amusing how bloody the effects could be. He wasn’t exactly the mafia prince for nothing. He, of all people, knew how perceptive and strategic Jin was. Never once did he do anything without a reason. And precisely because of that that it took him a moment before he answered. He lowered his eyes for a second before returning to Jin’s now amused ones. “They don’t, hyung.”

Jin nodded before turning to leave, his hand was in his pocket, his stance relaxed as though nothing was amissed. He had opened the door when he paused as though he remembered something. He twisted his body, his eyes trained on the famous attorney before his lips twisted into an entertained smile. His finger was now resting on his lips.

“Ah, unless they’re actually not dead.”

—-

Min Yoongi was like a man possessed, never leaving any stones unturned as he religiously looked for his angel.

He looked at every single piece of record of the town that the town had, employed several people to look for you, searched every available CCTV to trace any evidence that you existed, that you weren’t merely a figment of his imagination, that you weren’t merely indication of his declining sanity. Yet all roads lead to nothingness.

It was like any leads he got were mere fragments, offering little clarity or direction in the investigation. Likewise, it seemed as if someone was making sure that he’d go nowhere with the little pieces of evidences he was able to gather of your existence.

As days turned to weeks and to months, he was starting to be convinced that you were just his imagination playing tricks on him, that his mind was just too cruel to conjure an image of you, that it was just too sick to think that you came back to him. In this moment of profound longing, when the ache of your absence weighed heavily on his twisted soul, he couldn’t help but ponder about his choices in life.

On some days when he missed you the most, he thought that this must have been his karma for living his fucked-up life brutally. On a day like this when he should have been celebrating your birthday, when you were supposed to turn a year older, when you were supposed to be by his side as you blew your candle, he thought that this must have been his penance, a consequence of the twisted journey he had decided to walk on.

But wasn’t this just too painful?

Wasn’t his punishment too cruel to have the world gave him you, only to wretch you away from his arms?

Wasn’t it too cruel to have loved and lost you?

Yoongi let out a humorless chuckle, the puffs of smoke coming from his lips as he looked at what once was your home. It was your birthday, and tomorrow was your second death anniversary.

How he survived the existence without you, he would never know. He decided that he would never stop looking for you because accepting that you were gone from this fucking earth was not an option. He could feel inside the dead heart of his that yours were still beating. He knew a love as immense as what he felt for you wouldn’t die as easily as that. No.

Min Yoongi would find you.

“Happy birthday, my angel,” he whispered to nothingness, only the moon bore witness to his greeting, the night enveloped him in a solitary embrace. The echoes of his sentiment lingered in the air, hoping that his words reached you where you were.

---

“Happy birthday, eomma,” Jung Hoseok finished the song lightly, clapping the chubby little hands of your son in sync with the tune of the song. Your son was giggling as he bounced him on his lap, looking over his long lashes to Hoseok.

“Careful, the candle’s just in front of you,” he warned before shuffling the cake an inch closer to you. He came home almost an hour ago from his work in the docks with a box of cake in his hands he bought. You could no longer count how many times the three of you moved over the year, the last one being the most suspicious to you when after you came home from the market, he had already packed your bags. Before you knew it, he was already driving away from the town.

You lived in so many places.

You never felt at home in any of them.

It was unfair how you only felt at home when you were in his arms.

You clutched your walking stick on one hand, the other cautiously running your hand on the table to detect the cake’s placement.

“I’m not fully blind yet, Hoseok,” you admonished him teasingly before closing your eyes and wishing with all your heart that your son grew up happy. You wished to the heavens that his fate was kinder to him, that he didn’t have to suffer the way you did. You prayed that his fate was free from the shadows that haunted your own past.

You wished that he could live the life he deserved.

“Eomma,” he called for you, lifting his chubby arms to go to you. Hoseok cooed at him before lifting him to your lap carefully. You felt the warmth of his little arms encircling your neck, tiny lips pressing sweet kisses on your cheeks before erupting into giggles. "Eomma!"

A smile graced your face as you soaked in the pure joy radiating from your beloved child. Leaning in, you planted a loving kiss on the person you now cherished most in the world. His eyes lit up in response, a mirror image of his father's, carrying the same warmth and affection he did when he looked at you.

Hoseok watched the two of you from his seat. It was almost comical how he loathed your son’s father with all his heart, only to love his son with the same intensity. If he couldn’t end that bastard brother of his, if he didn’t have it in him to finish the job and kill you, then he would just take the life Yoongi was supposed to live.

He would never let go of the two of you- not when he found peace in this little family. The only way he would let go of this was if the only person he loved came back to him. But that was impossible, right? After all, Yoongi made sure that she would cease to exist in this world.

Wasn’t this the crueler revenge, he thought. Wasn’t this what Min Yoongi deserved?

It was almost amusing to think how he could have been dead if not for one of his brothers that saved him and you that fateful night. He could have almost missed this little slice of heaven had it not been for his brother, the only one who knew that he was still alive.

---

Almost two years ago, somewhere in a small province of South Korea

You woke up with a start, your heart beating faster as evidenced by the spike in the heart monitor attached on your bruised skin. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, attached to your bruised skin, echoed in the room, its pace mirroring the accelerated beat of your heart. The sudden awareness left you momentarily disoriented, and the sterile environment around you hinted at the gravity of the situation. As your senses sharpened, you couldn't shake the feeling that the throbbing in your chest was not only from the abrupt awakening but also from the lingering echoes of a disconcerting dream or a painful reality.

Every single thing that happened went back to you.

Every single detail of that night, of the way he smiled so tenderly at you, of the way he softly told you that he would be back, of the way a strange man entered your house and threatened you.

The recollection was vivid, etched into your consciousness like a haunting melody.

You remembered the way Suga’s face became cold the moment he saw that man. You remembered not seeing even a trace of the man you loved.

You remembered the truth and the pain that came with it, and then you remembered thinking it was your end. Beyond it all, beyond all the betrayal, lies and deceit that unfolded, you remembered wishing that he would be fine after all of that like the fool you were.

Wincing, you lifted your fragile hand to your shoulder, feeling a faint pain where the bullet had pierced your skin.

“Don’t move,” a tired voice sounded on your left. Startled, you turned to look at the source, only to find the man who attempted to kill you leaning against the wall, his own arm bandaged, his handsome face colored with faint bruises.

Hoseok didn’t come out of it unscathed, no. He looked so hallow. It was like he was a lost child, like a man that lost his purpose, like he was a shell of what once was a soul.

He must have seen your alarmed expression. He waved his other arm, his jaw clenching from the events that transpired. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You blinked at him, never trusting a word that came out of his mouth. It would be difficult for you when you saw how he unleashed hell that night.

“I-I,” you swallowed, your dried throat making it harder to speak. “d-don’t believe y-you.”

He watched you for a moment before nodding his head. That was fair, he thought. “How are you feeling? You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

What?

“Y-you waited that long to kill me?” you asked, your voice hoarse as you sat down. If he was going to end you, then you wouldn’t take it lying down.

Wordlessly, he crossed the room, lifting the glass of water on your bedside table, the straw turned to you. “Drink.”

You glared at him, distrust and anger in your eyes as you met his emotionless ones.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

You scoffed, turning your head away from him to look at where on earth you could have been. The hospital room was small, the window offering no clue as to your whereabouts. You wondered where Suga could have been.

Did he make it out alive?

Was he hurt?

Was he looking for you?

Did you want him to after what you knew?

“I do draw the line on killing expectant mothers.”

Latibule 2.III

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

You seem like an incredibly well read person, plus someone with a lot of insight into intimacy because of your work. So, in light of your romance book reviews, which are an absolute highlight on your patreon, do you have any insight into what is needed/suggested for a good romance novel?

g o d this is so fucking hard and also really fun to chew on. I want to preface this by saying this is ENTIRELY subjective and based completely on what I *PERSONALLY* find that I enjoy in a romance. this isn't, like, an objective guide on how to write a romance that doesn't suck. that doesn't exist because people like different things, and I'm speaking from one perspective.

also I should say that my preferred flavor of romance novel is solidly contemporary. I haven't read many historicals, certainly not enough to opine well on them, I don't do those mafia dark romances or whatever the fuck, and I've barely dabbled at all in any kind of fantasy romance, whether they're full high fantasy or witchy urban fantasy stories. (although I'm about to do one of the latter next month, you can vote for a book on my patreon rn!)

having gotten all of those caveats out of the way, here's some shit I like and dislike:

there are exceptions to this but broadly, I prefer a POV for everyone involved in the relationship. to me a romance where we're only seeing events from the POV of one member of the relationship automatically makes it seem like one person matters more in a dynamic where everyone should be of equal importance. also, god, if the plot's really going to hinge on not knowing what's going on in one partner's head suggests that miscommunication is going to be a pretty critical part of the plot, and I hate that shit. TALK TO EACH OTHER. I'LL KILL YOU.

on that note, there needs to be an actual compelling reason why the characters can't be together, okay? the #1 driving tension of every romance is "why the fuck can't they be together yet" and you BETTER have a good answer. whether it's interpersonal or external forces, if there's a very easy solution to what's keeping them apart then your characters look dumb and I'm bored. one of the most frustrating romances I've ever read involved two characters who were mutually attracted to each from the JUMP, who refused to act on it because they were coworkers (neither of them in any position of authority of the other, nothing unprofessional or inappropriate about it) and they were "only" living in the same state for A YEAR. A FULL YEAR !!! shut up. get a grip and kiss each other.

now, having said that: whatever your bullshit reason is for these two characters to be interacting with each other, you need to COMMIT to that shit so hard that I, the reader, will feel silly for even questioning the logic. the worst offender I've ever seen on this front is D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding, which pulls its protagonists together via a reality TV competition and then just... promptly loses any interest in really dealing with the actual realities of being filmed 24/7? it's insanely distracting how little the book engages with its central hook, and was a huge point deduction for me. whereas you have, like, The Bride Test, a book with a premise that skirts dangerously close to a little bit of human trafficking but embraces the whole premise so wholeheartedly that you completely forget about the potentially horrific elements in there. who cares that Esme was bribed here with the promise of a green card if she seduces a man she's never met? there's whimsy happening! we've moved on! it's literally fine and she's in no danger except the danger of a BROKEN HEART.

this one is going to seem SO obvious but like. I need them to be actually like each other. I'm not saying they can't be mutually bitchy while they grow to like each other or anything, they don't have to always be NICE to each other, but there are so many M/F romances where the dude is just flat out fucking MEAN and condescending to the girl until he decides he wants to fuck her. and sometimes even after that! stop it! after a certain point I don't want her to fuck him I want her to run him over a car!!!! there's suuuuch a line between "guy I butt heads and exchange banter with but could fuck if we just got to know each other" and "man who hates me and is for real fucking bullying me."

"kisses only," "doors closed," whatever term they use for a romance novel without any sex scenes on page, I don't like it. listen: I know that they're not everybody's cup of tea, and I FULLY recognize that a lot of romance novel sex scenes are unfathomably cringe. and yet, I need them. partly because they're funny, but also because if this book wants me to be invested in the developing relationship between two adults who are supposed to be WILDLY sexually attracted to each other, then I want to see the damn sex. no matter how many bad similes or unfortunate adjectives it entails. and if you're not going to show me the sex, don't you dare have the characters gushing about how great it is. I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. (I'm looking at you, Sorry, Bro.)

related: there's this thing that I call "Horny Wolf Syndrome," which is derived from this tweet:

initially I used it to refer to when previously sweet-tempered male romance protags inexplicably started talking like horny wovles during sex scenes - "LET ME SEE YOUR PRETTY CUNT ON MY COCK" and the like - but now I more generally use it to refer to scenarios in which characters of any gender completely dispense with their established personality while they fuck in order to fulfill a more broadly appealing, one-size-fits-all sexual fantasy. I hate that shit; if your characters act like completely unrecognizable people during sex, you didn't write very strong characters. one of my favorite things about writing sex scenes is that it's so SO interesting to see how their the characters' personal quirks translate into a setting that's very different from most other contexts, and it's deeply disappointing when authors take the easy route in favor of some pornhub dialogue.

one of the things that actually won my most recent read, Raiders of the Lost Heart, a HUGE amount of points with me was how frank the female lead was about initiating sex for the first time. it was completely in character for her and felt really different than any other book I've read, and honestly? it was a breath of fresh air.

[secretly-asleep]

People don't talk nearly enough about Q in Bungo Stray Dogs. Even with their limited screentime we still got a massive insight into their backstory. Compared to Kyouka, who when we meet, presumably was aready in the PM anywhere from 6 months, to 4 years, making it possible that she joined at 10 years old, her being 14 in the current time.

We've seen how being a part of the Port Mafia affects different people, but no one has been part of the PM for quiet as long as Q, and we don't even get to see what their life was before the PM. But we can assume it nothing good. We know that Q is one year younger then Kyouka, but the diffrence between the two of them being, that Q joined the PM at 6 years old, or prehaps even younger. My theory is that Q was locked up for at least a few years in some sort of 3rd space (similar to Lucy's ability) possibly by Dazai's order.

( Q, age 6 )

Character's like Dazai, Chuuya and Higuchi have a strong distain for Q, which means Q has been locked up for at least 4 years. Q supposed ranpage where they took out Chuuya's subordinates happend when Q was 9. (Q being 13 in the current time)

Compare Q to Yosano Akiko, who was 11 when she joined the army. And because of Mori's tactics and manipulation, earned the nickname of "Angel of Death". We saw in real time how quickly Mori is able to dystroy a person, make them a shadow of themself. How he turned a 11 year old, happy, friendly Yosano, who was ready to help anyone, into a child that was borderline shellshock, a person that was content to rotting in a asylum for the rest of her life. And after 3 years of her being unresponsive, in that said asylum, she still fought the idea of being able to exist as a real person.

The thing that stands out to me the most is that Q has more hatred towards Dazai more then Mori. Because we can safely assume Q was at least partially under Dazai's training, and we know Dazai does not have the most orthodox methods of beating new PM members into shape. The way Mori trusts Q to walk around and take the train on their own, without fearing that they might run away is really telling of how much the loyality to the PM was burnt into Q mind. We can imagine Q does not remember much of anything before the PM. Q has had only one place in this world untill now, and that has been being a killing machine for the PM, no questions asked, we can probably assume Q has no idea that they could leave.

The only autonomy Q has ever had is regarding to their power, but even that being dictated by Mori's orders. Q has no autonomy over anything in their life, if It's regarding if they want to kill people or not, if they want to help do the PM's bidding, or if they are content with being locked in, presumably, self-isolation for over 4 years. Lock up a 9 year old kid for 4 years only with their own thought's and be suprised when they turn out that way.

I've always thought of the parallels between Kyouka and Yosano, the same way both of them were made to hate their powers, Kyouka having to use it to hurt people against her wishes, and Yosano essentially being forced to make the people she looked up to, come to the brink of death, only to send them to die again.

Both Kyouka and Yosano were extreamly ashamed of their powers, becuse it made human life seem so insignificant, Kyouka being able to kill without actually being close to a target. and letting Demon Snow do it for her.

Kyouka and Yosano's abilitys are both not necessarily meant to hurt people, one being healing, and the other protecting it's user, not to mention, Demon Snow is a gift from Kyouka's mother, given in order to protect her.

Now, back to Q, a power, that we don't know that much of, for example, we don't know if the mind control could make someone feel at peace. But that wouldn't matter, because no matter how Q's ability was used, Q's ability can only be activated when somebody hurts them. No matter how much someone tries to use Q's for good, It will always hurt someone, that either being another, or Q themself. Do we really put it past the PM, in all the years Q was in training, to not have tourtured Q untill they got ahold of how their ability worked? The subordinates Chuuya talked about, are we sure that wasn't a cruel training for Q? Where Mori made people hurt Q, those people possibbly being people in the PM?

One is being forced your ability to cause harm, the other is your ability being designed to hurt you, and everyone eles.

If Q was subject to so much pain in their formative years, imagine how desensitized, they are to it. And all of this, the work of Mori, and the rest of the Port Mafia.

When Q was kidnapped by Steinbeck and forced to hurt so many civilians, we saw how people are able to manipulate Q's ability against their will, and who's to say, The PM didin't do that aready?

We saw how Q says that they never chose this ability, and how they didin't understand why all these horrible things happend because of them, asking Steinbeck why this is the case, when everyone is supposed to be equal in the eyes of god. Steinbeck being that god does exist, but that he has no space in his heart for Q.

This makes it pretty apparent that Q has not wanted to hurt all the people that they did, but that they were conditioned to do so, by the PM.

Q hasn't been seen since, but I would really enjoy seeing Yosano and Q interact, becuse they share so many similarities.

I don't think there would be a redemption arc for Q anytime soon, but Q is very dear to me as a character, and I really want them to appear more, the only problem being is, I have a feeling they are once again, locked up.

[wanderingelvis]

Omggg cg!Elvis x littleF!reader who’s sick and keeps slipping into littlespace cuz of how sick she is so he takes care of her despite the possibility of him getting sick? 🥺

Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you like it <3

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

Word count: 2,135

Pairing: Early 70's CG!Elvis x Little F!Reader

Oh Lord, you were trying so hard, so so hard to be a big girl.

You knew that Elvis had so much on his schedule, the Colonel was working him and you too by default. You'd been on the road with Elvis, helping out where you could like the good little girlfriend you were, but it had become all a bit too much and you had caught some sort of bug that was making you feel all kinds of miserable.

And when you were ill, well, that was the most sure fire way for you to slip into little space. You just weren't very good at being independent and coping with the overwhelming and horrible feelings you were having.

But you were trying, you really, really were. You didn't want to interfere with the schedule, Elvis had a lot on his mind and you'd be damned to cross paths with the Colonel when there was so much money to be made. Even when you were feeling your best, you still didn't like to even be in the same room as the Colonel.

All morning you'd felt achey, sore and tingly all over with a fever creeping in. Naturally, you'd been quieter than usual, trying to stop yourself from slipping but it was becoming inevitable.

Your body just wasn't strong enough and you felt exhausted and vulnerable as you sat in Elvis' dressing room as he did a run-through of his show tonight.

You'd found a spare blanket and you were curled up in the corner of the large couch as members of staff and the Memphis Mafia alike walked past you, a few giving concerned looks your way, in particular, Red, who watched as you rested your head on your arms and closed your eyes.

See, being in the state that you were in meant that you had absolutely no concept of time and when you were woken from the light slumber you were in, you had no idea how long you'd been asleep for.

"Baby?" That familiar deep, Southern voice hushed, laced with concern as your eyes sleepily opened, staring up at Elvis who was studying your state with worry on his face after Red had told him that you seemed unusually low today.

You blinked adorably up at him and if you weren't so apparently sick, Elvis would do the most unspeakable things to you.

Elvis sighed, realising how wiped and sick you were as he put the back of his coarse hand on your forehead to check your temperature, which was far too high for his liking.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak, you felt all achey and sore and your head was just so fuzzy that you were pretty much ready to let tears spill down your cheeks.

And Elvis could tell. He'd been with you for long enough now to know your little space 'tells'. You'd go non-verbal, your eyes would get all big and round and glossy, because even after all this time, you still got nervous about being little in front of Elvis - a fact that Elvis actually thought was very sweet and endearing. You'd start chewing on something too, whether it was your toy stuffy, your lip or your fingers, you'd chew on something as you tried to get all your thoughts in order. And there you were, chewing on your lip as you trembled from the fever.

"Oh little one, you ain't feelin' too good huh?" Elvis cooed, to which you shook your head ever so slightly. "Oh baby. Need me to look after you, princess?" Elvis asked as you pushed yourself up feebly, the blanket pooling by your waist as you nodded and rubbed your eyes sweetly.

Effortlessly, Elvis scooped you up in his big, strong arms and your head automatically went to rest on his shoulder as you began to chew on your fingers anxiously, wanting this horrible feeling to go away.

"Y/N is comin' down with somethin' nasty, I'm gon' take care of her, let everyone know they can go home, I ain't leavin' her today." Elvis said to Jerry before he carried you to his private elevator that took him right to the suite that the two of you shared at the top of the International.

As soon as the doors closed, Elvis began to rock you gently. "Gon' get you undressed baby, take off all yer clothes and get you in the tub, give you some medicine that's gon' make you feel all good n'better then we're gon' get you into bed to rest n' take it easy. How does that sound pretty girl?" Elvis soothed.

You nodded into his shoulder, feeling vulnerable and weak as he held you tightly, you couldn't help but let out a couple of sniffles too.

"Little one, d'ya think you can use your words f'me?" Elvis said. He knew you'd go non-verbal whenever you were feeling overwhelmed and little, and usually he wouldn't push you, but when you were feeling little and sick, he needed to know that you could still understand what he was saying and there wasn't anything more serious that was underlying.

"J-Just, don't feel good Daddy." You whimpered and oh if Elvis' heart hadn't broken in two when he first saw you on that couch, it certainly had now.

The name that you'd just called him was definitive confirmation that you were deep in little space and you needed to be treated as delicately as possible.

"I know baby, I know you don't, Daddy's gon' take care of you." Elvis promised, kissing the top of your head as you got out of the elevator into the suite.

Elvis wasted no time in taking you straight to the bathroom, sitting you atop the bathroom the counter as he rolled up the sleeves on his blue silk shirt, one that you'd actually picked out for him because you thought he would look "extra pretty" in it and began to run the bathtub full of warm water for you. He then went through the bathroom cabinet, through the one that held all of the medicines you may need for any particular reason, before he found the right one for your fever and chills.

"Now, you gotta be a brave girl f'me, I know this don't taste too good baby, but it's gon' help make you better, 'kay?" Elvis said as he poured the medicine onto a spoon, ready to feed you as you watched on, grimacing a bit, you hated having to take medicine.

"I don't wanna..." You practically whispered.

"Darlin', I know it ain't nice, but you gotta take it like a good girl, can you do that fr'me?" Elvis said, his tone becoming a little sterner than before, you taking your medicine is not something he was going to compromise on.

You nodded but not without small tears forming, making Elvis feel quietly guilty, he wished that it was him that was sick, he'd give anything to swap places with you. It really did pain him to see you in this state.

"Okay, open them pretty lips fr'me angel, just like that, good." Elvis encouraged as he fed you the spoon with the medicine.

He used his pointer finger on his other hand to poke just under your jaw ever so slightly to close your mouth around the spoon. "Good." He hissed, nodding in approval at how good you were being.

Slowly, he took the spoon out of your mouth as he studied your face, your eyes staring up at him as your nose scrunched up at the sour tasting medicine.

"Baby, that medicine ain't gon' do a damn thing stuck in your mouth like that." Elvis half-heartedly chuckled, knowing you were being a little too stubborn for your own good. "Swallow." He commanded gently.

And, like the good girl you were, you did just that - although with a grimace on your sweet little face the entire time.

"Good girl." Elvis praised softly, as he began to take off your clothes for your bath.

You watched as his coarse, ring-clad hands traced your skin, causing shivers to travel through your already sensitive skin. Elvis hushed you reassuringly, saying sweet nothings to reassure you that you were okay, that he was your Daddy and he was going to make you better, and you believed him.

After you were fully undressed and after Elvis checked the water temperature, Elvis helped you into the tub where you instantly loved the sensation of the hot water on your shivering skin.

"Does my little girl like that?" Elvis smiled warmly as he watched you smile for the first time today, even if it was only a small one.

You nodded as you brought your knees to your chest to rest your head on your knees, your head tilted so you could watch your Daddy.

Elvis grabbed a loofah and took to gently washing you, getting you all soapy and lathered up in the suds as he watched you practically preen in delight at his touch.

"Bein' such a good girl fr' Daddy, ain'tcha?" Elvis soothed.

"Yes Daddy." You said sweetly, your eyes closed in bliss as Elvis continued to wash you all over.

"That's right, that's my girl." Elvis praised as he held out one of your arms to wash it, as if you were some sort of a doll for him to move as he pleased. You were so malleable and so sweet and Elvis loved nothing more than to take care of you.

When Elvis was done washing you, he scooped you up out of the tub and wrapped you up in a fluffy towel, holding you tightly and peppering you in kisses, eliciting a few soft giggles from you.

He knew you were feeling little, you were so overwhelmed and he knew the last week had taken it's toll on you. You were a little people pleaser, so much so, that you'd taken on much more than sweet, little you could manage. You would comply to anyones request and you'd caused yourself to become burnt out and Elvis couldn't help but feel responsible for not stepping in sooner - even if he knew that if he had stepped in, you would've begged him to let you help out as much as possible because you were just a little angel sent from heaven. Elvis quickly got you dressed into your favourite pyjamas that you wore when you were feeling little. They had cartoon horses on them and you'd adorably named each one, one morning whilst Elvis was reading his paper and drinking his morning coffee.

He took special care as he dressed you, mindful that your body was still tender and sore.

As Elvis led you to your bed, you began to feel all drowsy and achey again, making you extra clingy and needy with Elvis, but he secretly didn't mind.

Elvis tucked you up in bed and placed your stuffed bunny in your little grasp, smoothing back your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

After placing a kiss atop of your head, Elvis began to make his way from the bedroom to let you sleep before he heard a whine come from your lips.

"Oh honey, what's the matter?" Elvis cooed, making his way back to the bed before you reached out your arms wide and made grabby hands at Elvis, making him chuckle ever so.

"Daddy, stay," You whimpered. You were not in any fit state to not be close to Elvis. "Don't go, need you." You mumbled cutely.

Elvis smirked as he began to remove his shoes and get atop the bed, next to you, placing one arm across the pillows where your head rested so that you were able to slot into his side and snuggle into him as you clasped onto your stuffed bunny too.

"I ain't goin' anywhere baby, now rest your eyes honey, you need to get your strength back little one." Elvis instructed, his fingers running through your hair, sending shivers through you as you let your eyes close.

Elvis continued to play with your hair as he reached over to his bed-side table with his other hand and grab the telephone.

"Jer? Yeah, Jer, tell the Colonel to tell whoever needs to know that the show ain't happenin' tonight, reschedule, cancel, I don't care. I gotta take care of Y/N, ain't no way I'm leavin' her tonight, not in the state she's in. Okay. Thanks Jer." Elvis said into the receiver before putting it down again.

You couldn't help but feel bad as you nestled into Elvis' side. "Daddy?" You said meekly.

"Yes baby?"

"You don't got to cancel your show Daddy." You said softly, your big eyes looking up at his blue ones.

"Little one, I ain't ever wanna do a show if you ain't in the crowd." Elvis said firmly and you knew he wasn't going to budge on the matter - and with that you drifted off in the arms of your Daddy.

[novankenn]

Ice Cream Social?

A snippet from "a Mafia" AU

Pyrrha Nikos, formerly the Goddess of Death. Once the Invincible One. Was NOT happy, and very uncomfortable. Jaune Arc, the former target of a contact killing that she had only a couple short months ago attempted to cash in on without her mother's knowledge, was dragging her into a "Mom & Pop" Ice-Cream Parlor. The once assassin now "secret" girl-friend was VERY uncomfortable in such social gatherings.

"Jaune can we?" Pyrrha tentatively asked as they prepared to enter the establishment.

"Pyr?" Jaune asked, his voice indicating his confusion at his "bodyguard's" resistance. "Is something wrong?"

"No... maybe... yes?" Pyrrha stuttered out.

"Ah... huh?" Jaune raised an eye brow. He withdrew his hand from the action of pushing open the establishment's main door. "That was... confusing. Is there something wrong, Pyr? You know you can tell me anything right?"

"Anything... su... sure. I... know that." Pyrrha replied, while her in her mind she pictured Jaune's mother and sisters giving her a glare. Pyrrha KNEW she couldn't tell Jaune the reality of the world, that she was part of, and that his family was shielding him from.

"Pyr?"

"It's just... just I feel underdressed... and I've never... gone to one of these before." Pyrrha's voice faded from tentative to barely above a whisper as she answered.

"It's an Ice Cream social, Pyr." Jaune informed her. "It's not a big deal, just a bunch of us spending money on ice-cream to help a local charity."

"But... still..." Pyrrha stammered, a slight embarrassed blush coloring her cheeks. It was a combined reaction, one from not knowing how to be average and normal, along with the fact she was acutely aware of Jaune's hands cupping own.

"Wait here." Jaune smiled, that warm goofy, comforting gesture. Pyrrha's heart skipped several beats every time he used it on her.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha asked suddenly wishing he hadn't released her hands.

Her scroll buzzed in her pocket as Jaune stepped through the door, leaving her alone outside. Pulling it out after loosing sight of Jaune in the crowd gathered in the shop, she opened the messaging application. It was a message from Terra. Jaune's sister-in-law, and a member of the legendary Sisters of Mercy. A fact when revealed caused Pyrrha to seriously question many of her life choices.

"Stop being a fraidy-cat and woman up, Nikos!"

"What? How? Where?" Pyrrha typed out in response.

"Inside. To your left." was the repsonse.

Pyrrha looked up from her scroll and in the direction instructed. There seated at the counter running the length of the massive plate glass windows was Terra Cotta-Arc. Eating a rather large and overly topped sundae. Pyrrha actually was surprised at just how many toppings the dusky skinned woman had piled onto the dish. So many in fact she couldn't even tell what flavor of ice-cream she was eating.

Terra smiled at the former assassin, as she took another heaping spoonful of toppings. Raising her free hand she wiggled her fingers at Pyrrha, before dropping her hand back to the table and typing something out on her scroll.

"You need to woman up there, Goddess. You won't catch Jaune's eye acting like some pre-teen school girl."

"I am not!"

"Yes you are." Terra replied. "You fell for him, not step up and stake your claim before some skank steps in."

"I would never let that happen!"

"There's that fire!" Terra replied, "Now... oh never mind."

"Huh?" Pyrrha responded, until she head the bell chime as the door was opened. Looking up, he blush became instantly nuclear. In a complete replay of their first face to face interaction Jaune was standing before her, a simple, plain ice-cream cone held out to her.

(Commissioned Image by @pilot-boi)

"Ja... Jaune?"

"Here Pyr." Jaune stepped forward holding the slowly starting to melt creamy treat. "I made my donation, and got you a treat. We can go somewhere else, if this make you that uncomfortable."

"I..." Pyrrha hesitated. Her scrolled buzzed, and she took a quick glance. It was another message from Terra.

"Pussy. Take the cone!"

"Pyr?" Jaune questioned, a look of concern, "I thought you liked vanilla? Did I mes..."

"NO!" Pyrrha shouted, startling Jaune. He almost dropped the cone, and if it wasn't for Pyrrha's honed reflexes it would have been lost to the sidewalk. "Thank you."

Jaune's faltering smile returned twenty-fold, making Pyrrha almost swoon, as he lifted the cone with a shaking hand and gave it a lick. Pyrrha actually preferred cookies-n-cream, but each time Jaune got her vanilla... it tasted like heaven.

"Good girl. ;-)" appeared on her scroll. Pyrrha hurriedly stuffed the object into her pocket before reaching out and tentatively taking Jaune's hand.

"Want some?" Pyrrha asked her cheeks glowing a vibrant red, as she held the cone out towards Jaune.

Jaune didn't lick the cone, but instead took a bite off the opposite side that she had been licking. His goofy ice-cream coated grin making Pyrrha's heart fluttered.

"Want to go for a walk in the park?" Jaune asked.

Pyrrha nodded, as she let Jaune take her hand, and when he wasn't looking twisted her cone about and took her own bite off the side of the cone he had. She felt her scroll buzz, and buzz and buzz. Obviously her little action didn't go unnoticed. Pyrrha was dreading what those messages would say once she looked at them. Taking another bite from her cone, she let Jaune lead the way towards thier next destination.

[blossomthepinkbunny]

Talking about Adam and the villians of HB

Adam is such a dissapointing villain for Hazbin Hotel that absolutely doesn't make use of the great opportunities they had for the bad guy of this project. Like, what is Adam? A sexual, irrational, rockstar asshole who kills demons for fun and is shown to be completely idiotic and unable to make any good point for his actions. And that sucks.

Atleast to me, them making Adam an irredeemable asshole type just seems like the show acknowledging that they can't take any actual feedback on Charlies idea. He is a strawman who never really gets to be anything else until his final moments, when they want you to care about his fight. The show doesn't want you to actually think critical about what Charlie has planned it just wants you to think she is right, by making you hate Adam, by making his side actively carry out genocide. The fact that a show all about revealing that people have layers and presenting seemingly morally grey areas in them has a villian who is completely one note and just evil and irrational because the show needs him to be is not great.

There are actual things that can be criticized about the Hotel and the idea of redeeming sinners, but Adam can't call any of these out because then Charlie would have to defend herself, which she can't do and then you would realize that the writers couldn't think of arguments for why she is right. And then Charlie would come off as not as great as they want you to think she is.

What if he had called out the fact that genuinely no demon seems to give a shit about being a better person. We don't get a definitive time for how long Charlie has been working on the Hotel but we can assume that it has been atleast a little longer. We see her advertise her idea on the news in the pilot and the Hotel makes an advertisement in the first episode, so we know that it's pretty open information that a place where demons can redeem themselves exist. Yet in the entirety of the pilot, season one and however much time lays between the two, only two sinners came to the hotel to change (im not counting staff members because they are there to work, not to be redeemed).

Angel Dust and Sir Pentious are the only ones who came to stay, which either means that just no other sinner cares to be better or that Charlie is not taken seriously and that her hotel is viewed as stupid in concept alone. And you have to remember that even these two didn't initially join because they genuinely wanted to change.

Angel just decided to stay because it was a cheap place to live where he wouldn't have to see Val. And while Pentious does decide he wants to be better, we don't know if he would have even done that, had it not been for the agreement he made with Vox (which made him come to the hotel with bad intentions in the first place).

Why doesn't Adam get to point out that sending Sinners to heaven might be a bad idea when there are probably people that they hurt or may have even killed up there. Like, Angel Dust was in the Mafia and you can assume that he has quite the killcount and it's very possible that some of his victims are in heaven. That goes for every other demon too, they're down there for a reason. And while sometimes that reason might be something stupid or irrelevant, just giving every demon the benefit of the doubt and a chance to get to heaven (in theory) seems pretty irresponsible.

That is also completely ignoring the fact that Charlie's method has no proof of even working. Seemingly in the entirety of hell existing no sinner has ever redeemed themselves and went to heaven until Sir Pentious, which was mostly an accident as well.

I'm not saying Adam had to be likeable or relatable, but it's pretty obvious that they made him so hateable just because. He can't just be an obnoxious, sexist asshole because that's not blatantly evil enough apparently. He also has to commit genocide for no reason other than that he enjoys it. Again, im not saying his genocide should be excusable, but he should have a reason that isn't presented as him just doing it for fun because hes a jackass (he should have a reason that would make what he is doing okay in his own eyes where the viewer could understand how he views the world without having to agree necessarily).

Writing evil characters who are purely bad because they just are can work. But in my opinion that shouldn't be the main villian, especially not in a show where the central idea is supposed to be discussing morality and moral greyness.

Cioccolata from Jjba is a villian where this works in my opinion. He is just evil and Araki really plays that up. He isn't just a crazy doctor type who violently experiments on people for fun, his backstory also shows that he has been doing this since he was 14 and started with driving elders to suicide. And also he films everything he does because he just likes watching people suffer. Cioccolata really is just irredeemably crazy and sadistic but it works for him because he is just a side antagonist and therefore doesn't have the burden of playing as a direct counter to our main protagonist and because for all his immoral actions he still has philosophy behind that. A fucked up philosophy but an understandable (not excusable) one nonetheless. He explaines that in his eyes people can only experience true happiness from two situations. Either when your own despair is replaced with hope, or when one watches other people fall into despair themselves. In his eyes, the more people he watches die, the more he understands the human race and the stronger he gets, which leads into another aspect of his philosophy, which is that the strong have have the right and responsibility to rule over the weak. That is why I think he works.

We actually get some insight into Adams deeper character motivation in his last moments. When he gets upset that the demons aren't just falling at his feet, worshipping him, even though he is the original man all life came from. And that would be a good idea to expand on, that Adam has this intense sense of entitlement that leads him to despise the demons because he doesn't have power over them, when he feels like he should. And because a crowd of people that don't worship him, feels threatening to him, he would want them gone as to not possibly risk his position of power with their ideas.

That could be the reason for why he despises Charlie, because she is a demon who makes her own plans to save her people, which would mean they could start to follow her and work with her, rather than idolizing him. Something like that would work so well for his character and would fit this saviour attitude that some religious people have when "helping" atheists by recommending that they should be religious to make all their problems dissapear or something (no shade to people who genuinely find peace and safety in their religion I think that's actually great but it's not a solution for everybody). The last moments he has give great insight into what his character could've been, had they focused on this, rather than always just having him say how much he enjoys killing demons for no reason.

And in the song he has he also nearly approaches giving another possible reason for his actions (that being that he just doesn't care because demons already had their chance to be good, didn't choose that and now don't deserve a second chance), but that is also never expanded on and is pretty much ignored throughout the season.

Also I find it interesting that Adam has to be completely and irredeemably evil, hated by everyone, while Lucifer gets away with just letting the people he is supposed to rule die like it's nothing. Lucifer didn't to anything to stop the exterminations, he didn't contact his daughter in quite some time and actively mocks her idea when first meeting her after these months of not giving a shit for her or what she does (her idea that is supposed to save his people from literal death btw).

We see him easily finish Adam off in the finale which begs the question for why he just never cared to do anything before. But it's fine because he's just so silly and goofy and actually cares a lot for Charlie say's the show. That is why he gets to be redeemed in the same episode he appeared in for the first time and no one is allowed to question him because then you're just not nice and understanding.

Lucifer didn't have to like sinners. I think his approach of basically leaving the sinners to their own devices is pretty interesting. But HH wants you to hate Adam and like Lucifer without acknowledging that people who just watch bad stuff being done without doing anything about it are also shitty. And for Lucifer it seems extra shitty because we see he can literally just defeat Adam and he just didn't do anything for this whole time.

Helluva Boss has this problem too where it picks characters it wants you to like and if you don't like them then you're just wrong. And therefore no villian gets to call these characters out without being shown to be either stupid, irrational or mean.

Striker was genuinely interesting and cool when he first appeared. He was an antagonist who had understandable goals that tied in well with the trajectory of the story. The classism in hell's society is a pretty relevant theme for HB. We see that Blitzø has to sleep with Stolas to be able to even do his job and earn a living, we see Imps just being tossed around and abused and hear Stolas say stuff like "impish little plaything" to Blitzø. Striker wanting to take the demons of high rank down to make hell better for the Imps by ending classism made sense and was an interesting take to see. Especially since at that point the show didn't insist on Stolas being this misunderstood good guy who just cares soo much for Blitzø, there was a sense of suspense maybe to watch wether or not Blitzø will go along with Striker or if this interaction might influence how he views his clearly predatory "relationship" with Stolas.

But all of that got thrown out the window because in s2 we just can't have people criticise Stolas, since actually acknowledging the fact that he benefited and actively made use of hells classist system would mean that we wouldn't see him as a poor confused bean anymore and that one might actually think of some of the pretty bad implications the Stolitz relationship has. So now Striker is a completely obvious, self obsessed bad guy who loves himself so much that he monologues about how great he feels when torturing Stolas instead of just killing him while they also gave him a weird gimmick where he doesn't like it when someone makes a sexual remark and gets so upset that he drags out Stolas' killing and gets defeated by Millie and Moxxie because of it (the same guy was established as a great assassin in another episode).

They also removed all the backbone to his ideology. He still talks about Stolas diminishing Imps in "Western Engery" but it lacks any point because they have gone so far with woobifying Stolas that he is presented as sympathetic and Striker as bigoted. Striker also acts like he can't kill Stolas because Stella called off the assassination on him. I get him being upset that he won't get his money for the kill but he still has very clear reasons for why he would want Stolas dead regardless (atleast he had when he was still a cool character). It's not like suddenly not being hired anymore would make a big change for him.

Killing Stolas could have consequences because Stolas is royalty, but these consequences always existed for him even while Stella was requesting the assassination. Stella would obviously not want others to know that she is reponsible for Stolas dying (then again we don't know if that would even matter since demons generally don't care about killing others until it's plot relevant) and the point of an assassin is that people are killed in a way that can't be tracked back to someone, so Striker should also not face issues, especially since he is apparently a really good and threatening assassin.

Striker was interesting until the show decided it liked Stolas too much for people to call him out and be presented as reasonable. Stella was turned into just an abusive, whiny and stupid bitch who just hates Stolas and wants his money instead of acknowledging that she pretty much has the same backstory as Stolas, who we are constantly told to feel bad for because of his childhood (arranged marriage, forced to have a child and a set-up relationship neither of them wanted).

Verosika is really not relevant but usually also falls into the "bitchy and just rude" category because she doesn't like Blitzø (it's not as bad for her as it is with Stella but still). Asmodeus and Fizzarolli where really mean and exposed and embarrassed Stolas and Blitzø publicly. But the next time we see Asmodeus interact with Stolas he is just chill with him? Why? Blitzøs and Fizzarollis relationship was atleast handled in a way and we see him act rude towards Blitzø until they make up. But it still followes the theme of people who dislike Stolas and Blitzø either changing their mind or just being shown to be horrible to make their opinion seem invalid (also notice how these male characters in the story get to be forgiven for how they acted and show different sides to their character while the women are reduced to being bitchy).

Barbie Wire was also handled soo bad. She only appears in the last few minutes of her début episode and never gets to talk about specifically why she doesn't want to have contact with Blitzø in the first place. The focus is mostly on how hurt he is by the fact his Sister wants nothing to do with him, even after he worked soo hard to find her and just wanted to make things right with her soo bad. They also basically made her a groomer which just doesn't help her come off as reasonable at all.

For a show that wants it's main characters to do bad stuff and have to deal with being called out for that it surely doesn't like people actually calling them out.

The double standards applied to the villians as opposed to the "good guys" are also just amazing. Like Millie and Moxxie can complain about Chaz being a bad partner in hindsight, but when Verosika talks about Blitzø being selfish in their relationship it's all about how he feels. Loona literally throwing stuff at Blitzø, hurting him just because he dared to carefully point out a true fact about her behaviour is played for laughs, but Stella abusing Stolas is super duper evil and we all hate her now (not saying it isn't bad but the show shouldn't pick and choose who is funny when abusive and who is evil when abusive). The I.M.P taking out random people because they were paid to is fine, but Striker attacking Stolas after being hired is bad just because he also happens to have a (understandable) motiv for why he would want to do it regardless of his job and because Stolas just so happens to be a main character. Blitzø and Loona commenting on Moxxies weight is funny, but when Mammon remarks that Fizzarolli gained a few pounds he is just bad.

That's just my opinion on some of the antagonists in HH and HB. Mammon is pretty much the only villian I really care for in both shows (also Stella and Striker before they got ruined). I mainly think antagonist are either really underused (Vox, Velvette, Verosika) or were just incredibly mishandled (Adam, Striker, Stella). Part of this post was just an excuse to talk about Jjba tho, which I always love.

[starillusion13]

TRUST ME NOT

Pairing: Bf!(boss unit except one) x f!reader

W.C: 9.1k

Genre: Fluff, Mafia, Angst

Warnings: keeping secrets, innocent reader(?), mafia deals, murder, blast, tracking device, spying on someone, anonymous mail, tying up with rope in basement, unconcious, feeling sorry, sad, regrets, forgiveness, lots of kissing, anniversary surprises lol, getting shot, mention of blood(not detail) idk what to add anymore

1 month late birthday gift to @mymoodwriting sorry🥀

Network: @kvanity-main

🎀 Your anniversary was supposed to be held in a month.

The excitement was brightly visible on your face and you had a lot of arrangements to make. Going out to different stores and contacting some very important people who all are of potential help in some urgent scenarios. It's been five years since you were in a relationship with the mafia gang, NCT. Yeah, some people won't believe you if you say that you are the secret girlfriend, because your appearance and attitude is far from the ruthless behavior of the bosses--- your boyfriends.

The first one to notice that you were busy was Jungwoo, as he is the one who doesn't go out of the house often. His hacking job lets you both to spend more time with each other and well, this makes him throw cocky looks to others. You have told him repeatedly not to tease others because of that, but who is he to listen to?

You have almost planned everything for the upcoming day, obviously keeping it a secret from them. And this made Jungwoo suspicious of you. Earlier he was ignoring your weird attitudes and your now and then excuses to go out but one day when you were out for a long time, he followed your location. Well, he tried to but he couldn't track it.

How the hell is that even possible?

Now, he can't obviously charge you for messing up with the tracking device as you aren't aware of any of these. So, he decided to talk this out with his gang members.

"Are you sure of the suspicion?" Taeyong asked with a dark look. He was already tired with the day and now one of his members is sitting in front of him with a doubt. He glanced at the rest of the members across the room but they all were pretty much similar attentive to the hacker like him. He sighed and urged him to speak more.

The hacker nodded and proceeded, "she is acting differently and when I asked her last week. She was in a hurry to reply as if she would spill secrets if she spoke more than necessary."

"Maybe she is tired. You know her café has a lot of work." Mark stated and Jaehyun nodded his head in agreement. They know very well how dedicated you are to your work and something that might be keeping you busy these days.

Jungwoo shook his head, "No. The surprising fact is that she is barely available at the cafe."

"Then where is she going every morning?" Winwin asked and glanced at him from the corner of the room. And this caught everyone's attention.

Jaehyun remembered his interaction with you from two days back over the call.

"When I asked to pick her up from the cafe, she denied and told me about having extra hours but ended up coming home by riding someone else's car. As far as I know no one from her cafe owns that car." he stated and looked around.

"What? And you are telling me now?" Taeyong banged the table with his fist making the ones sitting near to him to flinch. Doyoung licked his lower lips and ran his fingers through the hairs. He was still putting in the pieces together and hoping that whatever they were thinking should not be the actual case.

Are you hiding something from them?

Or are you planning for something to destroy them?

Mark put his phone beside him on the sofa, "Dude, don't think like that. We must be wrong somewhere. Don't doubt her for anything."

"You are not suspecting her for anything right?" Winwin looked at his leader expectantly who in return just poked his cheek with the tongue and turned towards Doyoung.

"Tell everyone to keep a closer look on her." he said and looked at everyone, "all of you will see what's the matter with her. If she is not going to the cafe and not talking with us that much. Then we should find out what's the matter that she is suddenly acting so differently."

"But-"

"Mark, don't argue with me now."

No one spoke anything after that. Four of them left the room, leaving the leader with Doyoung. The latter's eyes followed how frustratingly the leader was brushing his hairs back and sighing.

"I know, you are not doubting her like the way you are showing your anger."

The leader rested his elbows on the table and held his head with his palms, "I don't want to blame her for anything. I trust her so much but I want to know what's up with her. I love her so much, Doyoung."

Doyoung walked towards him and patted his back comfortingly, "we all love her, Taeyong. If she ever betrays us then nothing can hurt us more than that."

"I don't want to hurt her. She is precious to me. I want all these to be just a misunderstanding."

"She is not betraying us. We will just find out what's the matter with her and then everything will be fine."

The latter just nodded and tears fell from his eyes similarly like the one standing.

.

.

"Where are you going?" Jungwoo asked as he saw you hurrying towards the door. You were smiling all the way down the stairs while looking at the phone. His eyes were staring at you with curiosity and adoration. When he repeated the question again, you glanced at him away from your phone and raised your brows.

"Uh..I..somewhere...do you need something?"

"No. But where? Do you want me to go with you?"

"No!".

He was taken aback by your sudden scream, "what? Why are you shouting?"

You awkwardly laughed and brushed your hairs, "I'll be off to the place and will return quickly. Don't worry."

As soon as you took a turn, someone grabbed your forearm and made you turn around. The turn was so sudden that you almost lost your balance on your heels, "What the hell! Jaehyun?"

"It's late afternoon. I don't think you are going to the cafe right now. Your workers told me that you will be there in the evening. So where to now?" His tone was low and demanding.

His grip was firm and you glanced at the hold then at his face. He had just showered after returning home. The others were not there yet and these two were only at the house so you decided to leave without them noticing you but it's not the case now.

"Hey, I'm just going to meet someone." you smiled at the end of the sentence.

"Who? Let me take you there."

You held his wrist to take off his hand from yours, "No, it's okay. I can go there alone. He will be just a few blocks away and......and then everything is fine."

"he? Y/n, who is this person? Do I know him? Have any of us seen him before?"

"Oh my jealous baby, Jae. Come on, don't think like I am a child. And you don't have to know everyone."

He stepped closer to you, tugging your hairs behind your ears before holding your hands and smiling down at you with a soft look, "I just care for you too much, Y/n. I don't want anyone to hurt you. Please be safe out there as you know your life is always at risk because of us...and dont hide anything from us."

You couldn't hear the last words but you smiled at him, "I will be safe. I promise."

He leaned forward to peck your lips and then planted a soft kiss on your temple. Jungwoo came up behind you and hugged you, nuzzling his nose in your neck inhaling the recently applied perfume, you smiled at the tingling sensation. He whispered, "if you can't keep yourself safe. Then I will kill everyone who will hurt you."

You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your lips, planting a kiss, "I know. I am always safe with you all."

.

.

.

You were safe. Your preparations and secrets, everything was safe. Only two weeks left and you couldn't contain your excitement. Skipping steps towards the flower shop, you were greeted by the familiar man holding a rose in his hold and smiling endearingly at you. Your smile widened brightly and a soft laugh escaped your throat when he kneeled down in front of you, "A rose for my queen." He extended his hand towards you and you took the flower from his hand.

"Oh please shut up, Wooyoung."

He again stood in front of you and smoothed his blazer and pants. The look was stating that he was on his way for the meeting but still his playful nature and his childish laugh was not setting right with his appearance.

"Why? I can call you anything."

"Just wait until I tell this to my boyfriend." you chuckled while looking around the flower shop, "Where is the owner?"

You never used your boyfriend's name in front of anyone, always referring to some silly names or simply 'my boyfriend'. No one has ever seen your so-called boyfriend but they know you always have the adoration while speaking of him—- of them.

"I don't know about him. Hey! Why are you asking for the owner when I'm here?" He whined and you shook your head in disbelief with the attitude.

"How old are you? And I need him to choose some exact flowers for the decoration and a perfect perfume to give my boyfriend." you smiled at the thought of surprising them with everything. He nodded with a pout and stood by your side while you were staring at some beautiful bouquets, "Is your boyfriend nice? You can tell me if you have any problems. You have said he lives outside this country but if he turns out as a cheater. I will show him hell."

"Of course, Wooyuong. There's nothing to worry about. I am fine and he is a very nice man. Maybe someday you can meet him and also, I'm doing all these preparations for our anniversary."

The owner just entered the door and greeted you both when the other one smiled at you before exiting the door.

.

.

.

One week left for your anniversary.

"So, I was right. She is going to this shop almost every day and according to Winwin, our enemy's last location was this shop."

They couldn't believe the pictures and the tracking location of the devices that were showing on the very big screen displayed in front of them. The undercover spy has clicked the pictures of you meeting with a young man well dressed up in a suit and you were hugging him with a smile, also in another picture, you were receiving flowers. The different gestures between you both were assuming that there was a deeper bonding than they can think of. Everything was pretty much fine until the call list and tracking device of yours and their enemy matches exactly.

"Jungwoo, have you gone to this shop before?" Taeyong asked when he placed himself on the sofa.

The hacker shook his head, "no, I never bought anything from there. I thought she knew the owner of the shop, that's why she is going there but it turned out she is meeting the owner of the device who is apparently our enemy. We need to find who is the owner. Winwin even followed her one day and guess what? They were planning for a big event and also went on a date."

"A date?" Mark had a confused look on his face.

Jungwoo nodded and Jaehyun continued, "yeah, she is meeting these certain people every often and that's why you can't find her in the cafe. And this one person is very common."

"That's Wooyoung, a member of the gang, Ateez. the shop owner is his best friend, just for cover." Winwin started from beside Doyoung who quickly turned towards him in surprise.

Taeyong scoffed in irritation, "So that's him? He blew our basement? I was so sure that somebody leaked our plan when we were having the mission in a different state and look, he took that advantage to attack on our base."

"And you think?" Doyoung raised a brow.

"She...she told him?" Taeyong didn't even want to say it but still he did. He blamed you. He doubted you. There was no other option left other than suspecting you with their recent events going on around them. He curled his fingers into a fist, suppressing the anger and hurt.

Mark leaned back into his chair, "we must be wrong somewhere. Or things have not been placed in the correct way."

"No. When I told Jungwoo for the first time, neither me nor him believed this but after one week of research. We are sure that she is involved with this." Winwin himself didn't want to believe what he was voicing out.

His own voice was betraying him. Was your love for them just a facade to destroy them in the end? Were you playing with their feelings? What? NO! This can't be, you are not like that. He couldn't convince anyone, maybe he was not even trying to convince anyone. No one was ready to believe that you were planning something worse behind their back, just to destroy them to get in with a man. The man who is apparently their enemy's gang member.

Mark stood up. A sad look visible on his face, fighting back the urge to cry in front of them. He couldn't hear more about suspecting you. Even if you are wrong, he still wants to see you and love you. His gaze shifted from the leader towards the large wide window, the setting of the sun was visible, "our anniversary is in almost 10 days. I hope we won't be doing something to ruin the day."

The words hit them altogether. Anniversary...they have bought a lot of gifts for you and they have arranged a trip for all of you to spend time together.

He turned around and Taeyong closed his eyes, heaving a sigh. Everyone was in disbelief and fighting whether they should blame you or...or what? There's nothing to think about anymore.

"Hey!  you all here?" your cheerful voice broke the silence. The atmosphere was already tense inside the house but your presence was making it worse. To your oblivion, they shared glances between them when Jaehyun noticed some things in your hold. His jaw clenched at the sight and he stepped towards you.

"Who gave you this?"

You furrowed your brows before looking down and then a smile cracked on your face. Everyone noticed the shift in expression when you held the flowers tightly, "Um...someone. A friend?"

"Friend." he scoffed and glared at you. His expression surprised you and then when you looked around the room, you noticed others were looking at you with no emotions visible. It felt so distant as if you were missing something. But what's even the matter? Mark was standing on the first step of the stairs, when you caught his eyes, there was a hurt look— the look of betrayal.

"Mark-" the young boy didn't wait to hear you when he abruptly turned around and ascended the stairs, without even looking back at you. What happened?

"Where were you?" Doyoung asked with folded hands above his chest, supporting himself against the table. His dark and sharp eyes staring at you, waiting for a quick reply.

"I...I went to the cafe."

"You were not there. Don't lie. Just tell me exactly, where were you?"

Taeyong darkly chuckled, "of course to meet her friend. Right? So, had fun on the date?"

"Date?"

Jaehyun turned to him, "don't pretend that you don't know. You went on a date with your little friend, right?"

You shook your head when Jungwoo pointed at your large plastic bag, "what's all these?"

You tried to hide it behind your back only to get yanked away, "why are you hiding it?" He glared at your action.

"What's wrong with you all?"

"What's wrong with you? Are you planning something behind our back?" His words hurt you. No, it shocked you. Are they doubting you for something?

The phone in your pocket started ringing and when Jaehyun didn't loosen his grip on you, you snatched your arm away and glared at him. Fishing out the phone, you held it to your ear and greeted the person. Before walking towards your room, you snatched away the plastic bag from him and no one protested but watched you going away.

No one moved from their places but only Winwin followed you behind.

.

.

.

Three days have already passed since that day.

You didn't talk with anyone normally. Everytime, they would be looking at you accusingly or asking you some weird questions about why you were hiding things from them.

but , there was nothing to hide in the first place---- except for the celebration.

Only one week left and when you just wanted to go out finally to arrange the last things of the preparation. Doyoung blocked your way.

"You are not going anywhere."

"Huh?"

Jaehyun came up behind you and harshly pulled you to a particular direction, "your game is over, y/n. Just give up now. You can't hide anything from us now."

The other one walked just closely behind you, gun in his hand. "I can't believe you that after the things we did, only for you to betray us."

"Please Jaehyun...Trust me. you must be wrong somewhere. I am not hiding anything. I promise." Your voice was broken yet he was not glancing at you but dragging you towards the stairs. The grip on your wrist tightened when you tried to pull your hand away. The wrist was burning from his harsh grip.

There were two uncoordinated footsteps from behind you both and when the youngest of them spoke up, you glanced at them. Mark was trying to stop the leader from stepping forward but the latter was just fuming and when he caught your glistening eyes, he sent a glare at you.

"please..." you whimpered when he took the turn and stopped at the first step of the stairs. He inhaled sharply and glared at you before glancing at the leader.

"take her downstairs." He simply ordered and the latter nodded.

Mark held Jaehyun's other hand, "No. Don't. Please, we should listen to her. We must be wrong somewhere. Please don't take her there."

But he dragged you down, stumbling over a few places but he didn't care. No one cared at the moment. As if your voice was not even audible to their ears.

You have never been to this place before and the dark, dimly lit room with a damp smell was making churn in your stomach. The others were already present inside the room and their focus was on you— the helpless figure. He harshly pulled you towards the chair behind the interrogating desk and made you sit on it. Your head turned towards each one of them, no one was having any sympathy for you. Maybe they had but trying not to show it.

"Why are you doing this? Please get me out of here." tears were flowing down your cheek. Before you could wipe off your tears, Jungwoo gripped your wrist and tied them to the armrest. Winwin took away the phone from you and placed it on the table. Taeyong placed himself on the chair across from you and stared at your tied up form. Doyoung stood beside him, palm resting on the head of the leather chair.

"So, from where should we begin?"

You remained quiet. Not because you didn't want to talk but because you didn't know what to say. Mind still processing the situation and why they all were keeping you tied up like a criminal. Do they not trust you?

You stared at him with silent tears falling from your eyes. Jaehyun and Jungwoo stood beside you on both sides, neither of them speaking anything and not even looking at you. Only glancing now and then.

"How do you know Wooyoung?" the leader asked the first question and leaned forward on the table.

"Wooyoung?"

Doyoung tilted his head to the side, "yes. Even that day he gave you those flowers. Having good times with the enemy. Right, y/n?"

"Enemy? He is my old friend from university."

The leader was not buying your words, "our enemy is your friend now. Since when are you against us?"

"What are you saying, Taeyong? I would never. I..." you were almost spilling the secrets but held back the words that were about to come out from your lips, "we just recently reunited at the flower shop. He was just...helping me out with something."

"Helping you out to chalk out a plan to kill us?" Winwin offered you an option for your choice of words. You shook your head at him and returned to face the leader. He didn't have any emotions for you. No more those endearing smiles and caring eyes looking at you but a strong and accusing eyes blaming you for everything.

"No, it's not like that."

"There's no point in you lying on our face. You can't fight back, y/n. There's six of us and only, you alone."

You parted your lips and tried to shift forward when Jungwoo held you back. You raised your head to look at him but he just avoided your eyes. Does he hate me so much?  "You all should understand this. I am alone, I can't do anything to harm you all and... I can never think of hurting any of you."

"Don't pretend to be the innocent one like always." Jaehyun spat at you. "It was all a facade to make us trust you. To make us weak for you so that you can easily break into our life and destroy us from the core."

"Jaehyun..." you whispered his name but a long silence followed your longing gaze on him. How could he blame you like this? They never used such a tone with you.

"He is correct. It was only you who knew about our absence for a whole week from the city and during that exact time, Ateez attacked our warehouse. Isn't this a coordinated plan?" Taeyong was irritated with each word coming out of his mouth.

"And you think I told him?"

Winwin caught your attention, "of course. The enemy whom we were tracking has his every location around you. His every location was colliding with yours. The flower shop belongs to them and it's just undercover to hide their spies in that busy street. Your activity was very frequent during the time of the blast."

"It must be a coincidence...I am not aware of all these." you plead to them for mercy but none of them were convinced. It all seemed as an act to break away from them and to run to their enemy for help.

"We thought that too but you have a deep connection with him. Even keeping your meet-ups a secret from us. Don't think of us like fools."

"Mark, you are a fool. All of you are foolish to think of me going against you. He is just my friend and we were just hanging out after some arrangements and if I knew he was the menber of a gang, I would never have spoken to him. But...but he won't hurt me or any of you. He doesn't even know you all are my boyfriends."

"Because for your benefit. So that you can go on dates with him." Jaehyun scoffed at the end of the sentence.

Taeyong slammed his hand to gain your attention back on him. His eyes were raging and he was fuming with anger. You flinched at the sound and scaredly turned towards him when he spoke up, "Now tell me, what do you want from us?"

You shook your head and bit your lips to prevent yourself breaking down more.

"I said speak up, y/n!"

Your broken voice and hiccups echoed the room, "I...I want n-nothing. I just want......your love."

"Shut up!"

"Jaehyun, keep quiet." Doyoung shushed the tall man beside you but you were already hurt too much. You were exhausted after crying so much, the unfamiliar and confined environment was suffocating you. You just wanted to get out of the place and run away, far away and hide from them. You were scared to say anything anymore or they could have done something more.

"You are going to stay here unless you are willing to tell the truth." Taeyong said and stood up to turn towards the door.

You shook your head frantically to not to leave you there. But no one minded your scared form. You were nothing more than a liar to them.

"Please listen to me..."

Jaehyun grabbed your cheeks, his fingers digging into your flesh, "you are only going to speak the truth or else shut your mouth." he harshly jerked your head to the side.

One by one everyone left the room except the one who was almost standing silently since he came here. He stayed back inside the room. When you noticed his gaze on you, there was a hurt look like that day.

"Why did you do this?"

"I did nothing."

He looked up at the ceiling and then at you, "then please confess the truth. I can't see you like this."

"I'm telling you the truth, Mark. he is just my friend. I didn't help him with anything."

Doyoung came back to the room to find the younger one standing at the door. He informed the younger one to stay with you, not to leave you alone down in the basement. He nodded his head in acceptance. You don’t know if It was because they told him to stay behind out of love or they think you could try to run away from them.

Mark actually wanted to stay with you though. He just can't leave you alone.

Doyoung stepped inside the room to take the phone from the table. When he came in sight of your vision, you looked away to avoid him. He waited for a moment but left the room eventually when you didn't look at him.

"Mark, don't get swayed by her?"

They had some whispering conversation outside the door and you zoned out to think about the day, how you were so excited to finally wrap the different gifts for them and then prepare the last arrangement because this last week was supposed to be spending time with them together. But everything went down the hill.

When Mark returned inside the room, he saw you sleeping on the chair uncomfortably. He stepped forward and tugged your hairs behind the ears to have a clear look of your face. You looked so peaceful but your face was stained with sweat and tears. He caressed your soft skin and tears fell from his eyes, he was sorry to you. He untied your wrists and pulled you on his lap on the floor. Resting your head against his chest, his fingers stroked you and he lulled you to sleep.

"I'm sorry, y/n."

.

.

.

The next two days were just you refusing all the foods they offered and you were getting weak. Even if they didn't hurt you physically, but their words, their hatred looks and their harsh and hurtful touches with their accusing tone was enough to break your every inch.

Doyoung didn't let you stay in the basement but kept you locked in his room. He promised his leader that he won't let you escape the house.

Just before the two days of your anniversary, they got an email from someone. It was labeled with a secret code so when they clicked on it, they found out that it was from someone unknown. They have sent some confidential documents. Jungwoo didn't waste any time before clicking open it only to get a shock. Everyone scooted closer to him.

'How is Y/n? Suspecting her now? Oh, poor girl. Don't worry. I will kill her soon anyways. '

There were all the details under the small links. Whatever they saw was right but the actual explanation to their assumption was what you were saying, not how they interpreted earlier. Wooyoung was just your friend, nothing more and he didn't have any intention to harm you or others. Ateez didn't even attack their base.

Then who is this person?

Is he alive?

Jaehyun threw the glass away in frustration.

"Where is this shit? I will kill him."

Winwin quickly followed some images, "the dreamies are trying to track the id. Hyuck is currently scanning the codes. but... I don't know why this person wants to kill her."

"I'm not leaving her alone for any more second."

Doyoung jogged towards the room only to find you sleeping beside the window stool. Taeyong followed him closely behind and he noticed the dried tears on your face and the other one was quick to pick you up in his arms, "y/n, look at me. You don't have to be here anymore. I'm taking you out of this place. I'm so sorry."

Your breathing was so faint and it scared him.

He peppered your face with kisses, you were so weak and exhausted. There was no reply from you and he shook your body again.

"She must be unconscious. Let's clean her up and let her rest for a while. When she wakes up, I will feed her." Taeyong offered him.

They both nodded and exited the room. Promising to themselves that they won't ever let you be in this sort of situation again.

When they appeared in front of the others, they saw your unconscious body in his hold. Their hearts clenched at the sight, the pain striking through their body.

How could they just blame you and act deaf ears to your pleadings?

"I'm coming with you." Mark approached him and took you in his arms before going towards his room with Doyoung trailing behind him.

Taeyong ordered Jungwoo and Winwin to contact Dreamies for further discussions about the situation and let others disperse to their respective activities.

No one was willing to leave your side but they had no option other than waiting for you to get consciousness. But Jaehyun quietly walked towards your room to take a glimpse of you.

He was hesitating to enter the room but eventually stepped inside and found them inside the bathroom. They were carefully looking after you.

"Is she okay?"

His sudden voice made the two males turn their head towards him, "of course she is. We are here to keep her safe."

After a while, you were dressed in a pair of comfortable top and loose pants. Mark carefully tugged you in the bed before sitting beside your sleeping figure and caressing the hairs, Doyoung sat near your legs and Jaehyun kept his distance from the bed.

"Let her rest for a while. Taeyong will bring her the food."

They all left the room but Jaehyun went near to you and caressed your head, kissing your temple he whispered, “I’m so sorry, love.”

After a while when you woke up, only to find Taeyong sitting by your side with medicines and food placed on the table that he pulled beside the bed. Your head was spinning a bit but still he helped you sit up and placed the pillow behind you to make you comfortable. Before you could say anything, he caressed your head and smiled at you, following a kiss to the side of your head.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I was so wrong about you."

You remained quiet and just observed how he lifted the bowl from the table and stirred the soup, tasting a spoonful and turning towards you with a spoon.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"y-you are not mad at me anymore? Please trust me-"

He put the spoon back into the bowl and placed a finger on your lips, "I trust you. Y/n, I love you. I'm regretting treating you like that. It hurts you a lot to see us blaming you for something you didn't do. But I promise you, you will never have to be like this again. I will make this up to you."

"Really? And others...Are they?"

"they are equally sorry, y/n. we just couldn't help but think all that......why were you at the shop though?" he quickly asked you the thing that was still bugging his mind.

"Um...you will know soon. It's a secret." You expectantly stared at him to see his reaction but he just smiled when he brought the spoon to your lips. You quickly parted open your lips to taste the spoon and hummed in the wonderful warm taste. It melted on your tongue like you were melting under his touch.

"I won't ever hurt you."

"I know, Taeyong. You have so much responsibility but I think I made you scared going out here and there. But trust me it's a good secret, nothing to worry about."

"Can't you tell me now?" he pouted and blinked at you.

"No. Then what's the point of the secret?"

"Is this about-"

Someone entered the room and he was quick to sit on your other side and hugged you from the side.

"I'm so sorry baby. Please forgive me. I don't want you to stay away from me." he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck and your fingers entangled with his hairs when he leaned to your body more. Taeyong was still making sure to finish the soup and shook his head at the boy clinging onto you.

"Hey, Mark. It's okay. I was just shocked with you all behaving like that." You said slowly and he nodded, muttering a flow of apologies. The leader wiped your mouth when you finished the food and handed you the medicine to take but when you refused it. Both of them tickled you and joked around and ended up with Mark holding you down on the bed and the oldest one putting inside the medicine and handing you the glass.

Three of you spent some time together before Taeyong left when he caught a call from Jungwoo and he hugged you before pressing a long and soft kiss on your temple then hurrying to take the call. Where you and Mark ended up cuddling together.

"That night..." he was spooning you while your back was pressed against his chest and his one leg was flung upon yours. His fingers were playing with yours when you both were watching the screen displaying a movie.

You hummed in response, "you made me sleep on your lap. I woke up from a nightmare but I felt so secure with you. Thank you."

"I love you. I love you so much baby."

"I love you more, mark." You turned around and cupped his face. Your eyes searched for a particular emotion before pressing your lips to his. He was surprised by your move but when you tried to pull away your face, he held the back of your neck and pulled you closer, making the kiss rough and passionate. Both fighting for dominance but still enjoying the power of each other. You smiled and squirmed when he slid his hand under your tee. His kisses traveled down to your jaw and sloppily kissed your cheek. Admiringly, watching each other, he dipped his head down and bit the soft flesh of your neck, he groaned when you moaned his name. When he hooked a finger with the band of your shorts, you held his wrist.

He quickly stopped his actions and looked at you, cupping your cheeks and shock visible on his face. You chuckled at his reaction and he worriedly asked you, "Is there something wrong?"

It's not like you haven't done this before with him but there was something for which you wanted to wait.

"Can you wait for one more day?"

"Before our anniversary?"

You nodded and he smiled before pecking your lips.

"Of course, I can."

.

.

.

The day before the celebration. You asked them if you could go out. They felt as if they did something wrong that you were taking permission like a child. You bit your lips and stared at them when they were all similarly staring back at you.

Taeyong broke the awkward moment, "I think someone should speak."

"You did just now."

He glared at Jaehyun, who looked away holding back his laugh. The others snickered and you laughed loudly. All of their attention turned back at your standing figure in an elegant knee length dress.

"You all can go with me."

"We?" Winwin asked you and you quickly nodded.

"So?"

They all looked at each other before agreeing and stood up. The one that was hesitant to come near you was Jaehyun. When they all walked towards the door, conversing and joking among them, he remained at the same place. He felt someone entangled a hand with his and when he looked down at his side, you were smiling brightly at him.

"Let's go, my prince."

"Y/n...you.."

You pulled him towards the door. But he was staring at you like a lost man, who knew nothing other than the directions you would give him. He smiled when he noticed the dress you were wearing was the one he gave you on your birthday last time.

"I'm trying to forget about that day so please don't remind me."

He stopped in his track and you turned towards him, "what happe-"

He pressed his lips to yours. He was laughing between the kisses when you were trying to say something. He pulled apart and you glared at him before looking at your appearance on the phone screen.

"you ruined my lipstick."

"I would have ruined you but it's okay coz it's just the lipstick for now."

"Jae..." you groaned but he grabbed your chin softly and other hand quickly went up , a finger wiping away the smudged out portion and then patted your cheek with the clean fingers.

"you look beautiful like always."

Doyoung came back and pulled you both towards the car.

The car ride was fun. Except for Jungwoo clinging onto your side ans asking you the same question repeatedly, "why can't we know the secret now? Please, y/n."

"I am surprised all of you are in a gang."

Taeyong chuckled, "don't add him. He doesn't do anything other than hacking and intruding other's business from his private place."

He scoffed in reply, "at least I keep company with our girl. Right?"

You nodded. It's not like they were not serious with their job. When the work mode is on, you wouldn't even match the people who are the same with the ones you are currently laughing with. Even you get scared. Okay, last time you really got.

Arriving at the mall, you quickly got out of the car to make a quick call with your friend. You told her to receive the perfumes and flowers from the shop tomorrow morning and keep them in the café. You wanted to celebrate your anniversary at the café and your friend was helping you to get all the orders ready for tomorrow so that today, you can spend your day with the boys.

You bought a lot of things, some necessary and some unnecessary. Jungwoo was with you and others went off to other places.

"you are buying us gifts but not letting us buy for you."

"tomorrow."

"Why? I can buy it today. Wait, I can buy for you everyday."

"Don't show off." You turned around to look at the dress when he picked one from the other row and handed it to you, "wear this tomorrow. This is so perfect."

"are you serious? Do you know my size?"

He smirked and bent to whisper in your ears, "I know every inch and curves how they would fit them and how it would be easy to rip off."

Your eyes went round and you hit his arm when he burst out laughing, "Jungwoo!"

You snatched the dress and walked towards the trial room and when you put on the dress, it seemed like it was the one for you. As if They will marry you tomorrow. Marriage...

Jungwoo knocked at the door and when you opened it, he pushed you inside and locked the door behind.

"what happened?"

"I don't want others to get to see you before me." his gaze moved and his breath hitched. You were looking more beautiful than he projected an imagery picture of you in the dress in his mind.

He pecked your lips and then your temple, "you look like mine. I love you, y/n."

"Always yours. I love you so much Jungwoo."

Done with the things you wanted to buy. Jungwoo went to where Jaehyun was and you were alone walking through the newborn section and smiling. You picked up a pink baby wrap towel and someone back hugged you.

"why are you buying this?" his deep voice sent a shiver down your body.

"I am not buying...just watching... they are so cute. Look at this, Taeyong."

He pressed a kiss on your cheek, "We can someday when we will have a baby."

You turned around when his arms dropped down, "it will be soon."

He smirked to see the excitement on your face, he tugged your hairs before raising a brow, "so am I getting the hint to spend some time with me and then we can expand our family. You and I and our daughter."

"you want a girl?"

"I'm fine with both but to have a girl. I love the idea of mini you running around the house and us all chasing her around."

You hugged him tightly, "I love you, Taeyong."

"I love you too, my princess."

"Wait for tomorrow, please."

"Of course."

.

.

You all went home after almost buying the whole mall and Jaehyun was casually showing off and showing smirks that he brought the costliest items. Oh boy! How wrong he is. He should just see the expenses of Taeyong. Winwin whispered to you that he would be sleeping with you because both of you haven't spent a night together. You agreed quickly.

After the dinner when you were going towards the room, Winwin asked you to go with him to the garden and of course, you would.

"So why are we here?" you were staring up at the sky while sitting on the outdoor swing with him by your side.

"I'm sorry." He muttered quietly.

"I know."

He turned towards you and shook his head, "don't forgive us so easily, y/n. we don't deserve it."

"Then don't say sorry. Stop reminding me about that. Think about tomorrow and let us enjoy the night."

He caressed your head, " you are the sweetest one. The innocent one in our life and I don't want to hurt you but still I did."

"And I forgive you."

He sadly chuckled and pulled you closer, "Can you tell me the secret for tomorrow?"

You stared at him and waited if he wanted to say something but when he didn't, you kissed his cheek and smiled, "No. You have to wait."

"Are you planning a surprise? For us?"

"Maybe...or something more than you can expect."

He furrowed his brows when you caressed his cheek softly, "see...you are the innocent one now."

"really?" he grabbed your neck and pulled you in for a hungry and deep kiss. You were laughing and clutching his shirt. His other hand was caressing your back and hands, melting you under his control. He pulled apart and started panting for air.

"And now?"

"still the innocent." As the words left your mouth, he swept you in his arms and turned round and round. Both of your laughs echoed in the garden.

"I love you...I love you...I love you, My innocent girl."

"I love you too, my innocent boy."

Your teasing made him tickle you in his hold and you laughed out more.

Taeyong was watching you from his balcony with the wine in his hand. He was smiling ear to ear seeing you so happy.

He would keep you safe till the end.

.

.

.

Finally THE DAY.

Winwin woke you up, calling out your name lightly and keeping you close to him. He peppered your face with kisses and you were giggling all the way when he scooped you in his arms and took you to the bathroom to get ready. You looked at the mirror and felt so happy, quickly did your morning routine before running down the stairs to greet your boys. But you could only find Doyoung at the table preparing the plates and decorating it with the final touch.

The house looked amazing.

"Don't tell me you all did this within a night."

"Then What do you think? You were blind to not notice it till yesterday?"

You reached near the table and when you went to pick up a pancake, he swatted your hand away and you whined.

"Let others come. No eating before greeting."

"No greetings to you."

You turned around and folded your hands above your chest, he chuckled and with slow steps went behind you and snaked his arms around, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Happy Anniversary, My love." He kissed your shoulder, the deep round neckline of the dress gave him access to your soft flesh. Your hairs were tied up and he kissed the crook of your neck and his teeth grazing the skin and licking the jaw, "I love you, y/n."

"Doyoung, I love you. Happy Anniversary."

He turned you around to kiss you. His kisses are always soft and takes his whole time to devour the moment. Just like now, he didn't care what others will see but he just wanted to show you his love for you.

You were smiling all the while but the sweet moment got interrupted by the one who could enter the place without any sound but to disturb you both, he purposely made sounds.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"Yes. My love life." Doyoung spat at him and groaned but didn't let you go when the other one laughed and came near you.

You pulled apart from the kiss and looked at Taeyong. The other one was back hugging you and nuzzling his nose into your neck.

Taeyong cupped your cheek, "happy anniversary, princess."

"Happy anniversary girl's dad."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." You laughed out and noticed Jungwoo and Winwin entering the place when one of them muttered a quiet happy anniversary to you because he was always shy in front of others but the other one had to make it dramatic.

"Everyone. Present here. Wait two are missing."

All of you were watching his stupid act, standing on the chair. He craned his neck to look at the stairs and waited for a few seconds before Mark and Jaehyun walked down with bright smiles on their faces.

"Okay here we have Mark and Jaehyun. Then We have Winwin at the table. Mr. Taeyong and Doyoung with our special girl, y/n." He stepped forward to you and took out a flower and kissed it before extending it to you, " a token of love for my precious soul."

"Thank you. Happy Anniversary to my dramatic love."

"Happy Anniversary, y/n." He pulled you away from the one hugging you and stepped towards the table.

You sat between Jaehyun and Mark and they both greeted you following with a smile and soft kiss. Doyoung cut a piece of the pancake and brought it to your lips. You chuckled and quickly ate it.

"Are these all for me?"you asked them.

"Yes. All for the special one." Mark excitedly said and kissed your cheek.

Winwin cleared his throat from across the table, "so what should we do today?"

"Give her the gifts."Mark proposed the idea but you quickly shook your head.

"No not now. My surprise is still left."

"Wait. Yeah, the secret. So tell me." Winwin happily nodded and stared at you.

"No. Get dressed. We are going to my cafe and then everything will be revealed."

"Promise?"

"Of course, Doyoung."

They all quickly dressed up in some denims or leathers but of course they were looking fine individually. You couldn't take your eyes from one of them. Are you even matching with them?

You looked down at your dress and Jungwoo grabbed your shoulders to face them.

"How is she looking?"

The moment their gaze fell on you, everyone stopped, everything was still, a look of adoration and love painted across their faces. They approached where you were shyly looking away when Jungwoo was keeping you in place.

"You look like my queen, love." Taeyong took your hand and kissed the back of your hand. Jaehyun kissed the side of your head and pulled you towards him, "well, we have something more to say but let's go to the cafe first."

"Then let's go."

It didn't take much time to reach the destination but as soon as you stepped inside the door. You started to feel nervous and that did get noticed by them. They were mesmerized by the wonderful decoration that you did and planned for the day. Somewhere, they felt sorry to even blame you for keeping secrets for this. Doyoung didn't leave your hand when you were showing around the details you organized which perfectly matched all six of their likings but the moment they came across the pink box with a letter on top of it. You stopped them.

"Wait!"

They all turned towards you.

"There's something I want to tell you."

Taeyong smiled at you, "go ahead."

"No. First you gave me the surprise and then I did so now it's your turn to tell me first and then I will. How about this?"

Mark smiled and approached you, hugging you from behind and then you noticed Taeyong pulling out a box from his leather jacket.

"Woah! What's that?"

"It's-"

“Y/n!”

“Y/n!”

"Y/n!"

You knew your friend's voice and when you heard her screaming from outside, you ran towards the door and pushed it open.

The boys shouted out your name but you didn't listen and searched for your friend outside the cafe.

There was no one.

No one on the silent and peaceful afternoon street. You felt weird because you were so sure that you heard your friend call out for you so many times.

Are you hearing things?

You felt someone watching you. You looked in each direction but you couldn't see anyone. The boys already exited the cafe.

"Who was there?" Winwin asked while looking around.

"I heard my friend calling for me."

"Then where is she?"

"I don't know."

Doyoung stepped in front of you and held your wrist, "let's go inside. Maybe she was fooling around."

You nodded and turned around with them.

But the moment you took a step.

All of you heard a gunshot.

What happened?

"Ah...D-doyoung."

"Y/n!"

As soon as they saw you, blood was flowing out of your chest. You got shot? Who shot you? They frantically looked around but there was no one in their sight. Doyoung sat on his knees when he felt your limp body leaning on him.

"It's okay, y/n. I will save you. Just wait for a while. We will take you to the hospital soon."

He held your hand when Mark was searching for a way to stop the flow of blood. But his mind was not working and processing the things to do.

The day started with so much joy and love but suddenly what just happened?

Both of the men by your side were scared. Scared to lose you. You were fighting back the urge to seep into sleep but clutched his hand tightly to stay awake. Mark was repeatedly telling you to keep your eyes open.

"Baring the car. Do it fast." Taeyong pushed Jaehyun towards the car but you weakly called out their names and asked them to come to you.

"Just take her to the hospital. Now!"

"Mark. No...I-i don't think I can make it."

"No no y/n. You can." He pressed your hand, which was clutching your chest.

"Taeyong, tell me what you wanted to say. Please"

"Let's go to the hospital."

you shook your head and looked at Winwin, "Can you bring me the pink box? please..." you coughed. Jaehyun already went to bring the car and you were clutching Doyoung's hand tightly. tears escaping your eyes even though you didn't want to cry. Winwin jogged inside the cafe and quickly he picked up the note and the box and wasting no more time, he went towards you.

"Get inside." Jaehyun opened the door for you all.

"Taeyong, tell me please."

he was hesitant to tell you at that moment but wasting unnecessary time means risking your life more. your breath was heaving and Mark was trying his best to keep you awake. Winwin approached the scene and when you noticed him, you weakly smiled at him.

But Taeyong pulled out the black box from his jacket and opened it. your glistening eyes blinked slowly, everything was blur, you could feel a small thing placed on your palm. Taeyong took your hand away from Doyoung's shirt.

you brought the thing closer to you.

It's a ring.

before you could say anything. you all entered the care. you were still looking at the ring. When Jungwoo noticed your fixed gaze on the ring and your grip was about to loosen. He curled your fingers and held your fist tightly. 

Taeyong held back his tears and weakly said from the passenger seat, "we were going to ask you to marry us. A proposal ring."

you heard them. you wanted to say a lot of things but you couldn't. you wanted to say something else at the moment.

"Winwin, give the box to Taeyong." he was quick to follow your words. Jaehyun was often glancing at you from the rear mirror and to the front. their base hospital is a bit far away and they couldn't risk you reaching there so whatever problem they have to face, they were going to if they had to go to the city hospital.

Winwin kept the note in his hand and it was shaking in his hold. 

"trust me...i love you......" you weakly whispered but the one holding you heard it.

"Y/n...y/n...don't close your eyes...please..hey stay awake."

you didn't open your eyes.

nor you were clutching his hand.

"y/n..."

"drive faster!" Taeyong almost shouted at him.

Mark hesitatingly asked, "what's inside the box?"

Taeyong stared at it for a while and then when he opened it. A tear dropped inside the box. Jaehyun's breath hitched and looked at you but your eyes were closed. 

"Y/n...baby..."

aren't you going to smile at him? atleast for the last time.

Congratulations! It's a girl.'

Mark snatched the box from him and his eyes went wide. he urged the other to open the note and there it was, you have ranted everything like always and in the end,

'I collected some flowers for each day after I got the news of pregnancy. I could tell you earlier but I wanted to say it on a special day. I am not hiding anything from you except this. Just trust me. I want to give it to you all as a surprise.'

Jungwoo brought your hand to his lips to plant a kiss.

Doyoung pressed a kiss on your temple, "I trust you."

Are you just going to leave them now?

They won’t trust anything anymore when you didn’t even say the final goodbye.

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. If my favoritism is showing with some members then please try to understand oz they are my bias.

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

[open!]

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Of Cupcakes and Skulls | Part 8

(A/N) Shopping episode!

Pairing: single dad! Mafia! Simon x baker! Reader

Warning: kissies, fluff, Simon is fucking smitten, a lot of money spending, little spice

Synopsis: Based on this post by @lunamoonbby

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

When you walked into the boutique, you were surprised that it was empty. While you had never shopped there, you had walked by multiple times with friends, and it was usually rather full. But no, there was not a soul, besides Simon, two staff members, and you.

“Oh Simon, it’s good to see you. How is Millie?”

An older woman walked out from the back and right to the man beside you, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Imone, it’s good to see you too. Millie is fine, she will probably be mad that we didn’t take her with us when she finds out we went here. And thank you for clearing out the shop for us, I appreciate it.”

She waved her hands in the air, smiling at him.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Anything for you.”

Her warm, friendly eyes flickered to you, a grin taking over her mouth.

“And who is this, if I may ask?”

You quickly introduced yourself, your smile widening when Simon hastily added ‘My girlfriend.’.

“Oh, Simon! She is way too pretty for you.”

She grabbed your cheeks lightly squishing them as she grinned at you, before she turned to Simon, chuckling.

“Just kidding, just kidding. Now, what can we do for you?”

Simon rolled his eyes in a good-natured manner, leading you further into the establishment.

“We need a dinner dress for her. Something elegant, but simple.”

You nodded along, smiling as you watched the Imone rush through the store, picking out dresses and handing them to what you assumed were her assistants, who carried them to a dressing room. While you were completely enamored by her, Simon took the opportunity to look around, picking out a few things and handing them off as well. Once they were both satisfied, you were hurried to the dressing room.

You tried on dress after dress, parading it in front of both Imone and Simon, but after you were done with the first ten, none of you were too happy with any of them. As you walked out in the eleventh dress, you noticed that Simon was on his phone, typing away again, not even looking up and you felt your heart break a little. He probably hated dress shopping, after all, what man would actually enjoy that?

With a quiet sigh, you walked back into the changing room and pulled the curtain close behind you. But before you could call out to one of the assistants to help you out of the dress, the curtain was pushed to the side and Simon entered.

“Is everything okay? You were gone so quickly, I didn’t have a chance to look.”

His eyes found yours in the mirror, concern evident.

“You were busy on your phone, I…I just thought you were tired of seeing me in the umpteenth dress.”

He chuckled darkly, his hands quickly finding your hips as he carefully pulled you back and against his chest.

“Darling, I will never tire of seeing you. I don’t care if you’re in a ballgown or in the same shirt you’ve worn for the last three days. You will always look ravishing and I will always want to see you. I promise.”

He peppered featherlight kisses against the skin of your neck as you relaxed against him, a content smile on your lips. One of his hands drifted to the back of your dress, where he skillfully popped the buttons until the sleeves started to slip down your arms. Out of reflex, you lifted them to keep the fabric from exposing yourself, but when Simon’s warm hands settled over your wrists and gently pulled them down, you didn’t fight it.

“Let me see them…”

He hissed as soon your breasts were fully exposed, nipples quickly hardening under his gaze. You watched in the mirror as his hands lifted, cupping them and humming appreciatively as his thumbs started to rub over your perks. A low moan escaped your lips, your head falling back against his chest, eyes lidded as you gazed up at him.

His eyes were dark as he drank you in, fingers softly pinching and pulling as you felt yourself clench around nothing. You needed to be filled so badly, but he paid you no mind as you quietly whimpered. Only when you whispered his name did he finally look down at you, a smug grin on his face as he took in the state you were in.

“Ssshh…not here, my love. Only I get to hear you when you finally scream my name.”

Another whine left your lips at his words, this one in frustration as he chuckled in amusement. His fingers tugged on your nipples one more time before he lowered his hands until they were wrapped around your waist. One quick kiss to your temple, and he took a step back, coldness filling the space where he once was, but his hands remained on you, keeping you up until he was sure you wouldn’t collapse.

Your breaths still came out in little pants as he let you go, looking around the dressing room before he picked a dress out from underneath the others and hung it on top.

“Why don’t you try this one next?”

With those words and a shit-eating grin, he left the dressing room. You took a few more moments to calm yourself down before you called in one of the assistants and changed into the dress Simon had picked out just minutes before. And you loved it.

It was a beautiful off-shoulder dress with a flowing skirt that reached just beneath your knees. The sleeves were layered and crossed in front to form the bodice. It was made of soft and light satin with a layer of gorgette over it, creating a slight shimmering effect. Once you looked in the mirror, you couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped you. The color made your skin glow, and the cut hugged you in all the right places.

While you were still standing in the changing room, slowly spinning back and forth, the assistant came back with a pair of heels.

“Mister Riley said to bring these to you. Said they would go nicely with the dress.”

You nodded and held onto the wall as the woman carefully helped you step into them. A relieved sigh left your lips as you noted that the heel wasn’t too tall and appeared to be more of a block than a stiletto. They were surprisingly comfortable to wear as you stepped out and walked to where Simon and Imone were waiting.

The moment the woman caught sight of you, a loud gasp escaped her, and she turned to Simon, whose eyes were slowly moving down your body, a hungry look in them.

“You look fabulous, darling.”

You grinned at Imone and quietly thanked her before your eyes focused on the man before. His hands were curled into fists, which rested on the top of his thighs and he looked as if it took everything within him to not pounce on you that very moment.

“We’ll take that one, as well as the shoes.”

Instantly, you tried to reach behind you, your fingers searching for the price tag, but Simon just chuckled, knowing what you were trying to do.

“Don’t worry about it. They don’t have price tags here.”

He got to his feet and slowly stalked towards you, wrapping his hands around your waist the moment he was close enough. Involuntarily, you immediately relaxed against him, leaning closer out of instinct. He grinned down at you, gently pecking your lips before spinning you around and sending you back to the changing room with a light pat against your ass.

By the time you were back in your own clothes, Simon had already paid and was waiting for you on the couch. The moment he heard you approaching, he looked up from his phone, a soft smile on his face, you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“The bags are already in the car. Ready to leave when you are.”

You nodded and looked around. If you were honest with yourself, you could spend hours in this store. The dresses weren’t all; they also had a huge shoe section and an entire room just for accessories. But for today, you were more than happy with what you had tried on what Simon had bought you.

“Let’s go.”

He nodded and got to his feet, his hand immediately finding yours and holding onto it. Both of you bid goodbye to Imone - who had you promise to stop by again soon and bring Millie next time - before you walked back out into the street and to the car. Once the both of you sat inside, and Simon was about to start the engine, his phone pinged and he pulled it out, a frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Millie’s classes are ending early today. Do you mind if we pick her up?”

You grin, already excited to see the little girl again.

“Of course not!”

Simon smiled, gently raising your hand to his lips before pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles.

“Let’s go then.”

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Tags: @lunamoonbby @distinguishedprincesstrash @xanvasy @reader-1290

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[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: ANUBIS pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K release date: december - january

beta read by one and only @chaoticpuff17

prompt 1: “You are something I can sin for” prompt 2: 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 young but nothing happens until she's 21, 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)

author's note: so here we are! this is the story i've been thrilled to push out as it is happening in the universe and almost simultaneously with CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI. Y/N alias Peaches here, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after champagne confetti side B goes out. I have drafts for another fics that are happening in the same universe as champagne confetti and now anubis but step by step my faries ♥ I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I was keeping for myself for a looong 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 champagne confetti universe - which i still didn't name coz all the fics just have different titles so let's just call it like that for now. Without further ado, enjoy fairies! ♥ let's go back to 1996. omfg, let's call it thatttt, back to 1996!

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone. main masterlist 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

1996

"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?"

.

.

.

.

.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: if you want to be notified once the full story will be up for reading, you can write in the comments and i'll create a taglist!

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

lots of love, p.

[billsbabydoll]

“𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓁ℴ𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈, 𝓀ℯℯ𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂ℯ 𝒻𝓇ℴ𝓂 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂…”

contains:HORROR<3

summary:the notoriously “most feared” man in tokyo “tom kaulitz”, was my dear husband, though he learned to be sweet with me overtime, he still carried violent tendencies towards others. he hated the thought of other men having me in their disgusting minds, he was quick to blow those thoughts out...

WARNINGS:this is my own little spin on “my living nightmare” so if you didnt like that story then you definitely will NOT like this, (I DO NOT CONDONE ANYTHING THAT HAPPENS in this story, this story is ONLY for entertainment purposes!!!), violence, murder, gore, mentions of the mafia, jealousy.

notes:am i just completely fucked in the head that i actually prefer writing horror then writing the typical smut story-line?

HEAVY THEMES AHEAD!

being married to the one and only, the biggest mafia leader in all of toyko, “tom kaulitz” was no simple task..

the constant living in fear of, not knowing if he was coming home tonight, randomly having to switch locations when things got dangerous, not being able to trust a single soul, even having to change identities from time to time.

though tom managed to keep me far away from that cruel world, i still worried for his safety and even at times my own, i wondered if one day we could for once just blend in with society and finally be normal..whatever that meant.

but in reality we where here, in present day of-course.

toms hand in mine as we happily walked through the mall he had easily shut down just for the two of us, really it wasnt just the two of us.obviously his men accompanied us with their masks and machine guns.

“what about this one, is it too much?”i asked as i walked out of the dressing room, shyly strutting a gorgeous silk black dress.

“nein nein(no no)its perfect schatz(darling), you look stunning..”

“dont even take it off doll, im taking you straight to dinner after this.”he chuckled, mesmerized at the sight of the dresses tight fabric perfectly hugging my curves.

he looks away from me momentarily as he calls over the salesman,

“excuse me can you charge me for this dress please?-”

“yes of-course sir, shes smoking hot you sure shes just your girlfriend?”the overly-confident man snickered, tom immediately becomes furious at not only his comment but also for mistaking me as his girlfriend and not his wife, i mean does his dumb-ass not see the rock on my hand?

tom then stands up from the lounge couch, over looking the short salesman, choosing to ignore this for now and inserts his debit card on the card-reader, pulling it out once the reader chimed.i head over to his side, my pile of clothes in hand, tom quickly glances down giving me a cheeky smile before angrily looking back to the man.

“can my wife get a bag for her spare clothes?”he stared dead into his eyes, the mans eyes instantly widening at the mention of me indeed being his wife.

he frantically hands me a plastic bag, before rushing into the employees back-room, i confusedly look over to tom chuckling at the mans sudeen embarrassment.

“what was his deal?!”i giggled as i snaked my arm around toms, now making our way out of the clothing store, toms expression just cold and firm.

“hm who knows, dont worry about it-”he shakes his head smugly ideas already swirling in his middle, before leading me towards the parking garage, where his limousine awaited.

“lets get outta here prinzessin(princess)..”tom said as he opened up the limousines door open allowing me to settle inside first, following right behind along with his members.

he then orders the driver to one of my favorite restaurants, afterwards turning away from me to make a quick call, to then shut his phone closed once he finished talking to whoever he was speaking with.

i sit quietly playing with my other purchases as he begins chatting with his crew, a couple of them letting out a few murmurs and laughs back to him others remaining quiet, various minutes later we soon arrived to where we were set to dine.his security steps out of vehicle first making their way inside, then one of the men comes back out to send a hand signal to tom, letting him and i know that the coast was clear.

“i have a surprise for you waiting inside love, cmon!”tom cheerfully exclaimed, first he steps out of the vehicle, secondly turning around to reach for my hand, then gracefully pulling me out of the limousine, lastly leading me into the restaurants entry lobby.

the restaurant is empty to no surprise with only one anxious waitress and one single chef serving us tonight as per-usual, the waitress introduces herself then proceeds to lead us to our candle-lit table, taking our drink orders before scurrying away.

tom grins as he pulls my chair out for me allowing me take a seat first before pushing my seat back in place, doing the same for himself, then reaching his hand over the table for mine now gently rub circles on my skin with his thumb.

“you know i hate surprises baby..”i nervously stated, looking around trying to get any indication of what he had planned ahead.

“i think once you know why i got you this, i think youll quite like it, hes lucky i didnt do worse!”he viciously chuckled, letting go of my hand to signal one of his men to bring over a…sliver platter?

who is “he”?

what does tom mean?

whats under there?

what the fuck did he do this time?

“go onnn open ittt!”he cries out like an impatient child, he claps his hands excitedly together at the sliver platter set right in the middle of us.

i slowly bring my hand to lift up the cloche immediately met with the surprise inside-

the man,

from the store,

his blood seeping from his eyes and mouth,

a bullet hole through the side of his head,

and another underneath his jaw,

the words “fur meine frau (for my wife)” cut out from the skin of his forehead,

neatly arranged on the edge of the plate,

his head served on a sliver platter.

“surprise!!!”

THE END

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Five

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.6K

Series Masterlist

Her favourite days were the days that Arthur came to visit. She made him a drink as he sat at the bar, and leaned against it. "He didn't tell you he was getting lessons?" She asked as Arthur sipped his drink.

As soon as he put it in the bar, she took it from him and sipped. "You think Charles would tell me anything like that?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know him well enough to judge," she mumbled, letting her head fall into her hands. "Honestly, 'Thur, I don't think I want to get to know him well enough."

Arthur offered her a weak smile. "He'll get better, I promise," Arthur said, his fingers reaching out to touch her arm.

He pulled away and stood from the bar. "I've got to go," he said as he stretched.

"Work?" He nodded grimly and she walked around the bar to throw her arms around him. "Try to come back alive, okay?"

Arthur hugged her back. "I'll try."

He took his leave, walking out of the lounge and meeting his brother outside. Charles had refused to come in and now Arthur knew why. He was embarrassed.

When Arthur saw him, he wordlessly climbed into the car.

Back in the club, she walked over to the piano and sat herself down. She didn't play, not yet, instead letting her head fall into her hands.

This life wasn't the one she had envisioned for herself. Even when she was begging her mother to get her piano lessons, she never thought she'd be playing it for her career. She never thought she'd be performing almost every night in a lounge bar.

She never thought that lounge bar would be bought by a member of the Leclerc family.

She had moved to Monaco with the money her parents had left her after they had died. The lounge was supposed to be a temporary job, something to help her pay rent until she found her dream job, whatever that might have been.

Within the four weeks that she had been working at the lounge, it changed ownership. The young, cute guy came in and changed everything.

He redecorated, put in a newer, modern bar, new tables and lighting, and put in a new stage. He got rid of the stage and put in a brand new one, with these fancy lights.

Most of the performers were let go. Actually, every performer but her was let go. She didn't know why Arthur kept her on, but she was incredibly grateful.

She didn't know who Arthur was, didn't know who the Leclerc family was when she first started. Arthur didn't tell her right away. He waited until they were less boss and employee and more friends. When he told her, she didn't judge him. He had proven himself to be lovely and wonderful and she doubted he could hurt a fly.

But Arthur told her almost everything. Before she knew it, it had gone too far, and she knew more than she should have. There was no way she could have gotten out if she wanted to.

Until meeting Charles, Arthur was the only member of the Leclerc family that she really knew. After all he told her, she took time to research them. She found out that Lorenzo was the head of the family. He ran Monaco while trying to make his deceased father proud.

Charles was the ruthless, angry middle child. That was all she knew about him. Anybody who really, truly, knew what he did, well, they had a bullet in their heads.

Arthur was the protected little brother. He'd been on one job before, as far as she knew, and that was when he ended up with a bullet in his arm.

She couldn't help but be worried for her best friend when he left the lounge.

***

"Where are we?"

Arthur looked around at the surroundings as Charles put his car into park. The parking lot was empty, the Verstappen family nowhere to be seen. "We're headed there soon," Charles said. "I... I need to talk to you about something."

He'd never acted like this before. Arthur had never seen his brother, the brother that struck fear into the hearts of anyone that looked at him. "Are you dying?"

Charles glared. "Shut the fuck up. This is serious."

Arthur swallowed.

"Your pianist. How did you get her to like you?"

He let out a laugh as his brother's face went red. When Arthur had first introduced them, in a sense, he had a feeling that they would get along or that Charles would like her. It was a small feeling, and he certainly hadn't expected to be right.

"I can't believe this," she said. "I can't believe it. You have a crush on her! You actually have a crush on her!"

Charles's nostrils flared. "Shut up, I'm not a child," he growled.

Even Arthur was scared enough of his brother that he fell quiet. "I was just nice too her, okay? I didn't flash my guns and I didn't terrify her."

Charles simply grunted. He drove away once again, not speaking a word to his brother. The silence in the car was palpable. Arthur was almost too scared to breathe.

They got to the place where they were meeting the Verstappens. Max leaned against the car while Jos still sat inside. When Charles parked his Ferrari, he pushed away from the car and approached.

Charles and Arthur climbed out of the car. The older Leclerc took the hand that Max was offering him and shook. "Good to see you, mate," he said.

But he looked past Max, looking at Jos in his car. "Is he coming out or..."

"You got somewhere you wanna be, Leclerc?" Max asked with something of a giggle. But it wasn't a proper giggle, because future mafia bosses didn't giggle.

There was a minute where Jos didn't move. He stayed sitting in his car, looking forward. Charles often thought that, anybody who thought him to be terrifying clearly hadn't met Jos Verstappen.

When Jos climbed out of the car, Max returned to his fathers side and the meeting began.

It was the weirdest meeting Charles had ever attended. It was unclear whether Jos wanted to get out of Monaco or to kill them. He was angry, always angry, and he answered in mostly grunts.

Max did most of the talking. Charles walked them around, showed them what they needed to see in their warehouses. He wanted it over and done with as quickly as possible. He had a piano lesson to get to.

When they finally returned to the cars, Jos finally spoke up. "I thought I was to be meeting with Lorenzo," he said.

Arthur went to step forward, but Charles kept him behind. "Sorry, Verstappen, but Lorenzo had things he had to attend to." It wasn't a great excuse, but it was all Charles had. He had no idea what Lorenzo was doing, but he wasn't going to let Verstappen bully his way into a meeting with the head of the family.

Verstappen let out a breath. Wordlessly he climbed into his car. Before the door could shut, he snapped his fingers at Max, who climbed in after him.

Charles and Arthur waited until the Verstappen car had disappeared into the distance until they climbed into Charles' Ferrari. "I'm dropping you at maman's," he said.

"Why? Because it's close to the lounge?"

Charles didn't answer. He only sped up, driving expertly around other cars. When he got to their mothers apartment building, Charles quickly parked and gave Arthur five seconds to get out.

As soon as those five seconds were up he was speeding away again, heading to the lounge. There was maybe an hour before it opened for the night; he figured there was enough time for a lesson.

As he opened the door to the lounge, she was closing the lid of the piano. But, when she saw him, she stopped. "Mr Leclerc," she called. "Charles."

He opened his jacket, revealing no guns. "I come in peace," he called. "I thought we could have a piano lesson."

She nodded her head and he climbed onto the stage. He stripped off his jacket and sat beside her. "You you wanna try something a little more complicated?"

Charles copied her every note. For forty minutes he played at his best. She wouldn't admit she was impressed, she wasn't ready for that much conversation.

But, twenty minutes before the lounge was supposed to open, she stood up. "I'm really sorry, Charles, but we're gonna have to finish. I need to get dinner before we open."

Charles nodded, understanding. He stayed sitting at the piano for a minute more, still playing as she grabbed her jacket and went running out of the lounge. Charles wasn't going anywhere. He was going to stay and watch her performance.

When the rest of the staff started filing into the lounge, Charles stood from the piano. He wandered into the back office and took a seat at the desk. Arthurs desk. In front of him was a schedule.

It wasn't the staff schedule, but a schedule of the performers. And, for every night, there was one name on it.

Suddenly she was running into office. When she saw Charles, she stopped. "Charles I really need to get ready to go on stage."

"Arthur hasn't given you a night off."

"Well, who else do you think is going to perform here," she said as she pulled a black dress from her bag.

Charles clicked his knuckles as he stood up. He was going to have words with Arthur.

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