#and given I've been doing this for about 10 years now I think I've earned that right | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The most popular pages on Tumblr are about Minecraft, GIFs, and David J. Peterson.

#and given I've been doing this for about 10 years now I think I've earned that right

tojjist · 4 months

Text

“At Least” S. Gojo

☆ genre: angst to fluff (kinda)

☆ pairings: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

☆ summary: After Geto left, nothing has been the same. Especially not your relationship with Gojo Satoru. Once you decide to move to Kyoto for good, Gojo is less than pleased. But fate does not seem to want to let you go.

☆ cw: mentions of sex, depressed gojo, not spoiler free, hopping between timelines but like i added non-canon events, smoking, drinking, getting drunk, high school Gojo being a high school boy, cussing, mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t happen, mentions character death (from the anime), gojo satoru (yes that's a trigger warning).

☆ wc : 5.6k

☆ a/n: this has been in the doing for so long? I've been waiting to have the chance to upload it for maybe a year now smh. Also was originally written for an irl of mine lmao

“Oh my god,” you emphasize each word, pushing the wooden chair away with your knee. “Satoru, is it yours?”

His black pupils, lined with iris the color of morning skies, study your figure from behind the shaded glasses, pink lips quirking slightly upwards in approval of your attention.

“Nah, it's only staying with me for a week,” he stated, watching nervously as you strode over to him. “His owner is away for some business.”

Your attention remained fixed on the pet in Satoru's long, long arms. Your face lit up when a bark escaped the infant animal. “Can I hold it?”

Satoru watched over you carefully, pleading eyes coming in line with his blues. You make it hard to say anything other than an immediate yes, but he tries to stretch out the conversation to his best ability.

“It's 400 yen for 10 minutes,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words. He earned a look of amusement from you; a small victory. He then braced himself for the next part. Satoru bent down, meeting you eye-to-eye, and noticed your breath catching in anticipation. “Or... you can shorten your skirt.”

Your face took no time to grow hot, not giving any verbal answer besides the blank expression you stare at him with. For a second, Gojo let himself think he's the victor of this little challenge he started in his head. But he soon came to realize how grave of a mistake he's made.

You're not flustered, you're angry.

“You're such a fucking pervert,” you fume, eyes glaring daggers. He dares not move, noticing the way your eyes flutter over his face.

“You're truly unbelievable,” the shorter male chuckled, making sure he didn't bump into Satoru's now-bruised arm. “What were you even thinking?”

“I thought it was funny, y'know?” He huffed in response. Gojo's fingers ran through his own bright locks as he took a seat on the wood hung up by metal chains. "Besides, has she always been this strong? Physically, I mean."

Geto stared into the reddish sky of dusk, placing himself into a swing in turn and kicking the air so the swing would start moving. "I don't know. Girls are really full of surprises.”

He never thought, not in a million years, things would come to this. Ever since Gojo's last encounter with Geto after he, well, changed... Gojo became unable to face anyone quite the same way he did before.

How did he get here? How did things escalate to this? Thinking about it, Geto had shown signs of a change in his heart and mind. It was Satoru's fault, was it not? He should have done better. He should have noticed. How could he not have? wasn't he the strongest? Wasn't that his job? How could he be so bad at everything?

How could he fail everyone like this?

“Gojo-San?”

Your feminine voice cut his train of thought. He almost forgot the situation he is now stuck in. He's been doing that a lot: losing himself in thought, mind almost immune to the outer world until he temporarily lost his sense of self. Nothing felt quite the same any more. It was like the world had lost its color.

“Sorry- What's up?” He turned to you. Gojo-san, you called him. When did you stop using his given name? What's with the '-san'? Gojo hadn't realized that losing one person was the first step, and now he found himself deep in the road of losing everyone.

And now he's stuck in the elevator with the girl he had liked for so long. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything to you, to push your buttons like he always did or joke around. When did the world become so heavy? He does not know.

“Are you okay? You seemed off.”

Your face is devoid of any genuine emotion, seemingly expressionless. But your voice is laced with concern. Gojo could only guess you didn't want him thinking you pity him or anything of such. But if that isn't the case, he wouldn't know. He's too tired to bother thinking about it.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine,” he smiled in assurance, “Just bothered by, well, this-” he threw his hand in the way of the control panel. The elevator doors have been stuck for almost twenty minutes now. How pleasant.

“uh huh,” you sigh, turning back around. How did you turn so cold?

When the silence stretches, you start a conversation, hesitant at first. “By the way, I got accepted as a helper in a nursery in Kyoto,” you mutter, gaze avoiding his own. “they're expecting me to start work right after spring break.”

Spring break?

Holy shit. It hit him like a truck. That’s barely a week and a half from now.

“Spring break? Why so soon?”

“That’s when the students file back in,” you mumble, fiddling with the watch placed around your wrist. You pause to read the time, then turn to meet his eyes. “I’m leaving in four days to get settled.”

“Oh…” His breath caught, “Train?”

What a stupid question. He knows. Satoru has never been unintelligent, especially in conversing. But now his unintelligence shines through as if it’s his only trait. He’s glad you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I have no other form of transport really.”

“Well, uh…” He hates himself. He hates himself for not doing anything. He hates himself for being so weak and cowardly, for being unable to keep his friends around him, for shutting everyone he holds close out. But now, he especially hates himself for being unable to feel happy for you, or to congratulate you on the opportunity, “come visit us every once in a while, yeah?”

Your mouth remains shut, only staring at the tall man before your eyes. The silence stretches between the two of you once again, and you don’t find it in you to speak of how you feel.

“You.. you know you could have died, right? We all could have b-but you…” You trail off, thoughts splattered like a spilled pot of ink. Although you seemed unfazed, in your mind you were anything but. Haibara, Riko, and all the losses that trailed and every event that followed has been stressful and nerve-wrecking. And even in the quietness and silence of the general atmosphere, it has been nearly impossible to find peace within yourself.

“Well, I didn’t. What happened had passed. Can you change that? I doubt so. No point in ‘if’ and ‘could’ve’.”

Before you could respond,the lights flickered back on. You grow unsure if you’ve struck a nerve, but that wasn’t what you meant. Gojo’s response had nothing to do with what you said, you were sure he knew exactly what your words were meant for. Why is he so scared of confronting it?

You don’t know. You could never hope to know because you and Gojo Satoru live in different worlds, the man who was only Satoru some time ago. You were worlds apart, yet Satoru loved to play pretend that he lived in the same world as you, even when he stuck out like a sore thumb. But he was no longer. Ever since Geto left… it’s safe to say everyone has been changing slowly, deforming from their previous lives and personalities. But Satoru flipped, like the head and tail of a coin, he got himself a new face. He turned into Gojo Satoru; the strongest. A soul unalive. A broken boy in an ever growing body. A stranger.

Two days later you find yourself still roaming the campus , searching so desperately for something. Anything. A reason to stay, perhaps? You don’t find it anyway. You have no attachment as this place holds nothing but misery. Or that’s what you told yourself over and over as you packed your things.

Your steps were graceful, walking so cautiously as if careful to not wake someone up. Your fingers find rest on the old, dusty door frame, pushing yourself into the room that hadn’t been used for a good month or so. The classroom looked the same as it always did. Except for the shadow that loomed over it; a gray shade that sent chills down your spine. Or maybe it’s just your imagination.

Then you spot something rather out of place. You’re sure you’ve never seen it before and although you know it’s none of your business, the way it tugs at the strings of your curiosity is undeniable.

It’s red, poking out of what you’re sure is Gojo’s desk. The gloomy classroom was no fit for paper with a color so vibrant.

Your heart skips a beat when you glimpse the seat next to Satoru’s. You do your best to avoid looking at Geto’s desk any further. You busy yourself with the task at hand, reaching out for the mysterious paper hidden in the wooden desk. Shivers run up your arm at the texture of the scrunched paper.

You attempt to straighten it to your best ability, strained by his hard work of crumbling it with obvious frustration. you can barely make out the letters of your name in the middle of the paper, outlined by a messy circle. How Gojo of him. A few lines stick out of the ‘circle’, one of them has the name of a steakhouse somewhere in Tokyo. Another has a date, reading somewhere along February. It’s near impossible to make out what the small combination of letters say, especially when Satoru’s handwriting is closer to symbols than a comprehensible language.

The thought of it was so funny it didn’t feel like him at all. Satoru never planned anything. Every breath he took was based on pure impulse. Never would it have occurred to you that he thinks through things, let alone brainstorm.

The thought makes you smile. But the realization that he never asked you out because he changed his mind or everything that happened getting in his way makes your stomach churn unpleasantly.

You decide it’s probably for the best to never bring it up. It would only make matters worse for both of you. Life ran its course; who are you to try and change it?

“I apologize, but my answer remains. I refuse to take part in this,” you spoke in an even tone. “I have a job and a life away from jujutsu. I’ve made it clear sorcery is not a part of my life anymore.”

"That’s completely understandable,” the old man argued, his voice hoarse with age. You’re pretty sure you hear anger further straining his voice, “but your technique is quite strong. That strength could be of great assistance if put to use.”

“Thank you, sir,” you dip your head, maintaining eye contact with the decaying man. “But I truly apologize. The decision is final.”

“If you ever do change your mind, please let us know. We’d be more than happy to hear it.”

You almost let a sigh of relief escape. Finally he gave up. You end up only nodding your head in response gratefully, retreating from the old man. As soon as you're safe and out of sight, you let your posture drop, eyes rolling back in annoyance. These guys are truly as relentless as ever.

You stopped upon a familiar scent catching in your nostrils. Lifting your head up, your eyes roam around, scanning the room for your friend.

“You look troubled,” Shoko approaches you, taking the cigarette out from between her teeth. “What’s with the face?”

“How is that man even alive,” you look at her, “he’s ancient.”

Your comment earns a light chuckle from the brunette. “I’m glad I never have to get caught up in this bullshit.”

“Blissed aren’t you,” you roll your eyes as you speak. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place, I knew they were going to do this.”

“It’s alright, you’re all done now. Here-” Your friend then lifts the cigarette up, putting it near your mouth. When you don’t show any resistance she, being the bad influence she has always been, proceeds to place it between your lips. You waste no time, making quick work of the drag you inhale, bringing the familiar cloud of toxic chemicals and tobacco into your lungs. Your expression relaxes, shifting into one of relief. Shoko scoffs playfully, muttering that you’re dramatic under her breath before she pulls her cigarette from you, taking in a drag.

“Satoru’s here, by the way,” Shoko didn’t need to look at you to guess the way your eyes snap towards her. She bites back a smile. “He’s calmed down. He’d even seem the same as long as you don’t squint too hard.”

“Good for him,” you mutter, trying to seem as unbothered and nonchalant as your accelerating heart rate would allow. You avoid looking at Shoko, trying to seem disinterested. You know she’d pretend you weren’t gawking at her the second she said his name.

“He’s trying, you know. He’s just as nervous as you are.”

“‘M not nervous,” you scoff, “For god’s sake. It’s been ten years already.”

Satoru is stressed. He's nervous, as Shoko put it. He’d spent so long trying to ignore the past, pretend the past wasn’t at all. He couldn’t confront it. He didn’t want to. Satoru knows what he’s done, he's aware that he hurt you the last time you two had interacted. And that was ten years ago. He even let you leave without so much as a goodbye. How could he look you in the eye and pretend nothing has ever happened?

Gojo didn’t want to face the consequences of what he’s done. More so what he hasn’t. So many things were left unsaid in the elevator that day. They’ve been hanging over Satoru ever since, weighing his heart down and wearing it out.

What if he’s met by another woman? Ten years change a lot as is. What if the eyes that meet his aren’t yours? What if he finds himself talking to a stranger that carries around your name and features? Of all the horrors Gojo Satoru had faced in his life, nothing caused dread to pool in the pit of his stomach like this thought does.

Shoko seems to find something beyond you interesting. You don’t bother to turn to see as the brunette has always been a little in her own head. She’s probably just dozed off.

“Hey, think you can hold this for me?” Shoko muttered once Gojo crossed her sight. She stands facing you, averting his gaze. “I’ll be right back, nature’s calling.”

From his distance, Gojo couldn’t make out what the two of you were saying. He watched as your shoulders shook, presumably in laughter. Shoko then made her away from you, barely sparing Satoru a glance.

Every step he took felt heavy, weights landing on his shoulders as he moved towards you. He watched smoke emerge from over your head. He didn’t know you smoked. And even though he’s not completely sure what you do for a living now, he’s not expecting any nursery to accept a smoker in their team.

His long strides finally arrived, opting to remain a step behind you. Close enough to make his presence known.

The aura was unmistakable, almost as if it could be physically sensed. You freeze in place, the cigarette remaining a few inches from your lips. Even after he changed his perfume to one a lot more manly and appealing, and clearly grew taller judging by the shadow he cast over you, his presence still had the same strength as it did before. If not stronger. Anyone else would say it’s intimidating. But you find surprising comfort in it.

“That’s going to kill you,” his hand reached from over your head, making sure to not cause any unnecessary physical contact. His fingers slip the burning cigarette from your grip. You find yourself unable to make a single move in response, only watching his actions unfold.

He took a step, moving closer, dimming the light from the roll by rubbing it against the metal bars, then throwing it off the balcony. “You’re too young to kill yourself like that.”

“That bitch Shoko set me up,” You hiss, regaining your composure. “Will you look who showed up. You’re killing the ecosystem by throwing waste like this, Gojo.”

Although you haven’t glanced his way yet, You were every bit sure his mouth was quirked in the same smug smirk he wore so much when you were younger. You could even hear it in his voice as he spoke, “You haven’t grown at all, have you?”

“Oh shut it,” you chuckle. “You’re still as immature as ever. How you could be a manchild at 27 is a wonder to me.”

27… It felt so weird to say it out loud. Weren’t you just 17 a few days ago?

“Oh, how you hurt me,” he says in exaggeration, his voice conveying anything but the hurt he claims to feel. “That isn’t very nice of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” You say. He laughs a little, you do too. But the silence that follows is not that of a joke. He knew what you’re referring to. Maybe he underestimated your last encounter’s effect on you.

The silence speaks for itself. It’s louder than any conversation you’ve had before. What now? What have we become? Is it of any use to try anymore? Neither of you had an answer to the question that began to surface with this interaction.

The questions remain hung in the air, dimming the atmosphere around you. Was this fate’s doing? Or his karma? Gojo has always been told he’s a god, but how could he be a higher form of life when he struggled so much to hold a conversation?

He’s about to speak again when you cut him off, muttering “here-” as you push your hand down the coat you wore. Your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek as you search for the anonymous object.

You pull out a worn out paper, grown from what could have been a bright red to an orangish shade. His eyes study as you shove the paper in his direction, eyes avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Seeing your bashful expression made him rather curious, the contents of the wrinkled paper piquing his interest. He hesitates before he pulls the paper from your hand, half-expecting you to bite him.

The letters were scribbles, almost like they’re straight out of some cult’s ritual, that with the wrinkles of the worn out paper making reading it next to impossible. Still, he could make out just enough to realize what this paper is. His eyes widened behind the blindfold. It didn’t take much to remember this paper, trivial as it may be.

“You found this- how did you even…?” he trails off, confused.

“I guess I did,” You confirm. He’s unsure if you’re proud of yourself for your rather… interesting discovery. It’s bold of you to pull this out ten whole years later. But he can’t deny the relief he feels that at least this means you don’t completely hate him. For once, he’s truly at loss for words.

But he wouldn’t let a perfect opportunity like this slide.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me? You’re so obsessed with me that you kept this for so many years, what a loyal fangirl.”

Before he knew it, a weight so crushing landed on his foot. He turned off his infinity around you as a sign of trust. But he soon came to regret his rather unsmart decision. Your foot stomped and crushed his toes. It makes him groan in pain, bending slightly forward.

“Tomorrow, at Narisawa in Minato city, 5:30. I’m leaving for Kyoto in 3 days. Don’t waste your chance again, Gojo Satoru. You’re not getting another one.”

“I take it you’ve been in love with me ever since?” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Say, did you fascinate about me?”

“Hmm..” you hum softly at his childish question, “only a little.” You show no signs of interest in his tactics as you sipped the wine in your hand. Undeniably, Gojo is taken aback by your lack of reaction. He hasn’t known you to be so reserved and smart at keeping him on edge. He couldn’t help finding your new behavior enticing.

Is there anything else you’d like to have?” You nodded your head towards the plates sitting on the table, some empty and some half-full. “Or do you wanna do something else before I go back to the hotel?”

“Hmm? Maybe I could join you at the hotel, actually. Surely it’ll be a lot less lonely with me around?”

You’re tempted by his offer, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach. He looked strikingly handsome today. Maybe you were just really lonely and touch starved, or maybe it’s the way his lips quirk as he teases you that makes your brain a little hazy, inappropriate thoughts floating through it and send jolts to your core. Yet, you set your mind on refusing his advances. You haven’t had a decent conversation since high school, for god's sake.

He keeps his eyes set on you, shining before him. You looked glamorous. He’d lie if he said there wasn’t a certain allure to your matured looks. The years that flew by changed a lot of things about you two, but his breath still catches in his throat when your eyes meet his dreamy blues. The feelings rush back, memories clouding his train of thought.

He’s sure he’s going to pay. He didn’t mind it at all, what a small price for getting to spend an evening with you. But you surprise him when you bring up that you had already put your card down, courtesy of having been the one to ask him out. Or maybe this was your way of telling him that you are in pretty good condition, living perfectly well without needing sorcery.

“How’s working as a jujutsu teacher?” you quip, smiling softly. “Utahime says you’ve got some interesting kids in your pack? Two special grades, too. You’re sure a favorite attraction for wonders.”

“You’re still in contact with her too?” he dodges talking about his students, not meeting your gaze. “That’s ironic. Weren’t we friends too?”

A hoarse chuckle emerges from him. But nothing about it leads back to amusement, as it was a joyless sound devoid of life. Almost as if he were mocking you. The dark lenses of the shades sitting on the bridge of his nose served as a shield. He curses himself for being so weak. He's almost thirty but somehow you’ve got him acting like he did when he was 17.

“You didn’t try to contact me either,” you shrug, not willing to take the blame for your lack of contact.

“You could have visited then. Even Yaga talked about you every once in a while,” he isn’t too happy and it’s showing.

“All good things, I hope-“

“Don’t change the subject,” he frowns, an uneasy edge outlining his words. “He was enough. You didn’t have to go ahead and leave too.”

“I had to move on, Gojo,” the name felt like a jab every time you used it. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. This is how you drew your boundaries. Calling them by their last names gives you a false sense of satisfaction, convincing yourself that your sorcerer friends are past figures now. Mere acquaintances.

“-I couldn’t remain hung there forever, I valued my mental health. You grew distant, the atmosphere was growing uneasy every day. I had to cut ties with Jujutsu before I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

“Yet you’re here now. Back to square one,” his playful tone was long gone, now replaced by an even, stern one. “Whether you moved away or called us by our last names. It’s a curse you can’t escape. you’ll always end up back in the palms or jujutsu.”

His words held some truth. You know that. But just as he refused to confront this past, you repulsed the idea of your reality. You truly want to believe that you could escape this part of yourself and live a normal life. You couldn’t come to terms with your inability. You held onto your hopes as if your sanity completely depended on it. Another thing that won’t change no matter how much you grew.

“I'll be okay as long as I refuse to interact with this world.”

Once you leave the restaurant, you find yourself wandering through the rich streets of Minato city. It felt as though the night was pulling you further into its welcoming embrace, with nothing rushing you.

“He was only thirteen,” you chuckle, arm linked in his. “It’s unbelievable how bold kids nowadays are.”

“I would’ve done the same thing, honestly,” he smirks, his gaze fixed on the stores around.

“Of course. You’ve got the brains of a thirteen year old.”

Satoru grins at your remark, pulling you into a clothes store.

“What’s this?” you look around in confusion, noting a woman in a suit welcoming you. The place looked a little too fancy, judging by the display of the items and the lighting of the place.

“It’s a western brand,” Satoru answers. Looking over at him, you can’t help but smile a little. He looks good tonight. His fancy outfit gave the impression that he’s a model to strangers. “Louis Vuitton, I think,” He furrows his brows, trying to remember the name of the brand stores he’s been to with Nobara and Shoko.

“Prada, sir,” The lady in a suit corrected him. “Can I help you?”

“We’re just browsing, thank you.” It’s a phrase he heard from Kugisaki countless times whenever they wandered into a store. His response makes you chuckle, watching as the lady takes a few steps backwards politely.

You’re soon comfortable, searching through the expensive coats and bags. Satoru watched tenderly. Even though the ten years that passed with no contact whatsoever definitely propose a wall between you, he's glad you're able to feel free. You might nit on the same page, but you two can work with what you have.

You stride back to the “S” shaped velvet couch sat in the middle of the checker-carpet store, where Satoru sat. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You walk around in hesitance and confusion, completely aware of the lady walking always a few feet behind you. Surveillance, you guess.

You find him standing in front of the white counter, taking a black bag with the brand’s name printed onto it in golden letters from the man standing behind the counter in a white shirt with the brand's logo on it.

“Gojo,” you call him, confusion fused into your expression.

He extends his arm to you, trying to suppress any sourness at you calling him Gojo. “Let’s go?”

You nod, eyeing him suspiciously before you link your arm in his. You make sure to flash a grateful smile at the woman by the door as you walk past the reflective glass door.

You almost forgot how busy the world outside is. It felt as though the glass building of the store was sound proof. Now you have to adjust to the noise of the full streets again.

Satoru remains silent for the most part. It’s not awkward, rather just neither of you knew what to say. He expected you to ask about what he bought, which you have considered. You decide against it though as you feel it’s none of your business. You’re not too surprised anyway as Gojo has always been a wealthy man. He could buy the entire Prada chain with half of his monthly spending.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

You think about going to the club to give the night the best closure. But neither of you were dressed for it anyway. You contemplate your choices. Then you grin at him, and Satoru knows it’s best to fear what comes after

You’re well aware that he has a high alcohol tolerance. While you would be wasted a few shots in. Yet you consumed so many drinks recklessly, thinking that maybe you could beat him in a drinking game.

That’s why he’s stuck to your side now, helping your sleeping body out of his car. Satoru is glad your hotel card was so easy to find in your purse, taking it out as he gets into the lobby.

A few people eye the man, glaring at him and at the way he held you in his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it. His mission is to get you to bed now.

“Satoruuu~” You whine, rubbing your face into the pillow once he sat you on the white bedding. “Stay with meeee”

And Satoru is nothing if not human. Despite what everyone else says. It’s proven now that he had come to face a human flaw like this. He is weak, and you are all but practically seducing him.

“Stop crying,” He mutters. He finds himself smiling sheepishly at the unlikely scenario he found himself in. Tucking you in bed, your face hot due to the drinks you had. He really should have stopped you. “I’ll stay the night, so sleep already.”

He convinced himself it’s for the best. He should watch over you for tonight. No funny business. Deep inside he knew he was just finding a reason— any reason to stay around you for a little longer, heart yearning for the lost years. But he ignored the pathetic feeling, convincing himself it’s for your sake instead.

“But I’m uncomfortableee,” you whine again, hands running down your body. “The dress...”

Did you have to make it so hard on him? Satoru is tempted to kiss you, eyebrows knitted in the space between, eyes looking around the room for any sort of aid.

This is probably a form of invading your privacy, but he sees no other choice. He’ll have to hold it together for tonight.

“nngh..”

Your groan came with an impending headache. Your body moves against the rich covers of the bed, sunlight illuminating your physique.

He stopped in his tracks, feet bare against the gray carpet.

Your form is beautiful, one to compete with statues of goddesses. The rays of light complimented every inch of skin in all the right ways. Satoru had to physically shake his head to stop the flowing perverted thoughts in his head.

Your flinch when you catch him standing near the door, heart beating slightly faster. You thought that you’re alone. You don’t think much of it anyway, muttering a “holy shit” under your breath.

“Good morning,” he casually greets, brushing off the mutual shock, albeit for different reasons. “I made coffee, if you wanted some.”

“Oh... thank you,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight. “Did you eat anything yet?”

“Not yet, no,” he says, holding his overly sweet coffee in both palms. “Thought I’d wait until you woke up.”

“You’re a real sweetheart, Satoru,” you yawn. His name slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You busy yourself with stretching your arms. “What a doting housewife God has blessed me with”

His response is only a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he sighs on the edge of the bed. “Well, at least I wasn’t begging a man to spend the night with me”

“Huh?”

You couldn’t remember anything of the prior night. Nothing that occurred after you sat at the bar, specifically. But then you begin to realize, eyes widening at the revelation. You feel dreadfulness landing in the pit of your stomach a little too late.

He’s shirtless, wearing only his suit pants. And even though you wouldn’t mind the sight any other day, the fact that you are in your pajamas isn’t helping at all.

“Did we...” You trail off, expression darkening. Your eyes meet his own, fear implanted in your pupils. You watch as his expression drifts from confusion to an awkward hesitance. Unsure how to break the news to you.

You don’t know what to expect, not realizing you’re holding your breath.

“I-I’m sorry,” He sighs, gaze faltering as his eyes look away from you. Your eyes widen further, oxygen becoming hard to consume.

What have you done?

“But- don’t worry. You know I’m not some asshole...” if anything, he sounded chivalrous. “I-I’ll be accountable for my mistake. When do you want to hold the wedding?”

You gasp, face feeling hot. “You piece of shit-“ You groan as your foot reaches him, forcefully pushing him off the bed. “As if!”

He breaks into a fit of laughter, the sound full of genuine delight. “I can’t believe you fell for it,” He manages between the laughter.

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you mutter, a smile of relief breaking across your face. “I can’t believe you pulled something so childish.”

“Why are you so down?” He climbed back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot on the edge. “Are you disappointed? You know it’s never too late to just as-“

“Fuck off,” Your heart is pounding as you send him another kick, less forceful this time. “Say one more word about it and I’ll make sure you don’t make it out of this room in one piece.”

He laughs, asking you to pass his coffee. You reach for his coffee from the bedside table. Your fingers lift the glass mug to your lips, sipping at the hot beverage before handing it to him.

Your face scrunches up at the horrible taste. Too much sugar. Too much milk. It’s a lot worse than you might think.

“Your coffee should be criminal,” you push the mug his way, frowning. Satoru hums in response.

There’s no awkwardness between the two of you, and he can’t help but cherish it. He feels content, enough to sit a little closer, at least.

Enough to lean in towards you, mouth closing over yours in an ever awaited kiss, at least.

544 notes · View notes

btswrckd · 17 days

Text

Secrets and Lies

Mafia member!Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Part of the War of Hearts universe! You've spent the last 10 years not really knowing just who your best and only friend actually is or just obsessed he is with you, but when an unexpected threat emerges from your mother's past, he's given an opportunity that he just can't pass up.

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of guns and other weapons, mention of death, mention of obsessive behavior, Namjoon's kind of a prick to an old one-night stand

A/N: Ta-da!! It's here!! I'm sure there's more warnings I missed and I'm sorry!! As you guys may know, I've been working on 3 separate fics for the War of Hearts verse and I'm still working on them, but I wasn't sure whose story I wanted to put out first. As I'm bouncing back and forth between the stories, I've finally figured out the order in which I want to put them out. Please enjoy guys!

“Are you going to tell me what, exactly, we’re doing here?” Hoseok yawns from the passenger seat of Namjoon’s sleek black Hyundai. Why Namjoon thought of such a car as “inconspicuous”, Hoseok will never know. Honestly, he was pretty pissed that Namjoon had dragged him out of the house at 4 o’clock in the morning to watch random people come and go from some 24 hour diner that sits just before entering city limits. But when the door opens for the hundredth time and a pile of messy hair sitting in a bun atop the head of a beautiful girl comes bouncing out, he rolls his eyes. Now he knows what the hell they were waiting around for.

“Seriously, Namjoon,” Hoseok groans and burrows into the heated seat. “Can’t you stalk your girlfriend without me?”

“Shut up,” Namjoon hisses at him. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you are stalking her, correct?”

“Hobi,” Namjoon warns again, “shut the fuck up.”

He doesn’t hear whatever it is that Hoseok mumbles under his breath, simply shaking his head and turning his attention back to the waitress who’d just finished a 12 hour shift. Without the top of a messy bun flouncing about, he’d have lost you in the mass of cars you were weaving through. You look tired, he notes, exhausted as you slump against the driver door of the beat up old car that you’d been saving up for. He never liked when you took the bus; too many strange men would look your way far too long for his liking. But he didn’t think a car like that would suffice either, even though it meant tracking you was a little easier.

Your head thumps against the steel door of the small car you’d salvaged from a junkyard. “Still,” you remind yourself, “a junker car is better than no car at all. Definitely smells better than the bus.” It was the third 12 hour shift you’ve worked in a row and still had another 3 to go. To say you were exhausted would be putting it lightly. You’re worn out, both physically and mentally, but you have to keep going. Have to keep making money. Have to pay off the medical bills that only seem to keep racking up. The sound of an obnoxious ringtone blares in the dark parking lot and you jump in place as you recognize it as your own.

“Shit,” you hiss, fumbling for your cell phone only to find the caller I.D. belonging to none other than your ex-boyfriend. It’s not that you’re ungrateful for him taking on the task of being your mother’s caretaker, it’s that you wish he’d stop trying to use her dwindling health as an excuse to try and get back together. “Minseok,” you answer, vexed. “What is it?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Minseok snaps back, taking a deep breath to steady himself. After all, catching an attitude with you when he’s trying so hard to get you back is not going to earn him any brownie points. “Hey, so, you just got off work right? Why don’t you stop by and we can have breakfast? Your mom’s been asking to see you.”

“In time,” is all you can say. It’s all you’ve been saying since you were a teenager. Your mother is all you have left and to keep blowing off chances to visit her breaks your heart a little more each time. You love her so much, but the thought of seeing the frail body in place of what once was a strong and healthy woman makes you want to cry. You don’t know how long she has left or why you keep avoiding her, knowing damn well that she’ll be gone soon. You only know that distracting yourself with work doesn’t make you feel as helpless as sitting at home waiting for the inevitable phone call. Minseok is babbling about something, but you don’t catch what it is when the sound of approaching footsteps has you reaching for the pepper spray attached to your key ring.

Namjoon is amused when you whirl around, pepper spray at the ready even if it is with a shaking grip. He laughs as your shocked face morphs to one of anger and embarrassment. Clearly, you hadn’t expected to be snuck up on in the middle of the parking lot of your job, and that makes him uneasy. You should always be aware of your surroundings. “What are you doing with that, you nut case?”

“Shut the hell up, Joon!” You kick at the loose rocks on the pavement, sending them flying in his direction. “You scared the crap out of me, asshole. What are you doing lurking around a dark parking lot anyways?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He tilts his head playfully, though there’s no hint of amusement in his tone anymore. You should have gotten in your car and left a long time ago, yet something or someone, namely Minseok, kept you from doing so. He recognized the look on your face when you’d looked at the phone screen. Even from across the lot, he knew who was stupid enough to bother you after a long week of working. With a roll of his eyes, he takes the phone from your hand and ignores your protests.

“Minseok,” he says into the phone, skillfully dodging your attempts to pry it away from him. “How are you?”

“I’m uh,” Minseok sputters, “good. I’m good, I guess. What are you um, what are you doing with Y/N?”

“Me? Oh, nothing really. Just came to pick her up from work. Yeah, she finally scrapped that heap of junk and decided to ride in style. With me. Goodbye, Minseok.” Namjoon ends the call, carelessly tossing the phone back into your waiting hands. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he nods down at you. “Heading home?”

“Trying to.” You prop a hand on your hip and he groans because he knows exactly what’s about to come. “You know I hate it when you do that. Getting under Minseok’s skin does absolutely nothing for you, so why do you do it? And you know he’s the primary caretaker for my mom. Stop trying to piss him off.”

“You never get after him when he pisses me off,” he points out. It was never a secret how much he despised Minseok, especially when you dated that little prick. Nothing makes Namjoon’s blood boil more than the image of Minseok taking you on dates, holding your hand, kissing your skin, touching you wherever he pleased and you allowed. “Anyways, I wasn’t trying to get under his skin. If he feels threatened by me then it’s not really my fault. And what the hell is he still doing taking care of your mom? Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Not everyone at the rehab center knows we dated,” you explain, missing the flash of anger in his eyes. “He’s the only one that mom trusts.”

“You know I can take care of her too.” He braces his large palms against the car door, trapping you between the metal and his body. “I’ve offered a thousand times, Y/N, you always say no.”

“I’ve burdened you enough.”

Namjoon sees the brief downward tilt of your lips, a frown you try so hard to hide from him. He won’t have it. Tucking his finger beneath your chin, he tilts it up to look you in the eye. “You’re not a burden. Neither is your mother. I’ve told you before that all you have to do is ask and I’ll give you anything you want, Y/N.”

“I just want her to be better,” you whisper, casting your eyes to the floor as they flood with tears. There’s no doubt in your mind that if you were to ask Namjoon for private care, he would gladly take care of it without expecting anything in return. That’s how it’s always been with him though. Always giving but never taking. According to his close friend, Hoseok, that’s how Namjoon’s grown up. You’re not entirely sure what his home life was like when he was a child, but his parents seemed to have done a wonderful job raising him. You can’t honestly say you’ve ever met anyone like him in all your 28 years of life.

Namjoon’s finger becomes firm in making your eyes meet his once more. His mouth tightens into a thin line and you know he’s trying to hold back his frustration. When he met you in the hallway at the hospital nearly 10 years ago, you’d just learned of your mother’s diagnosis. To say you were distraught would be sugarcoating it. You were absolutely devastated. He remembers how 18-year-old you had slid down the wall with body wracking sobs, but you’d tried to hide it as your mother was just a few feet behind a closed door. You had wailed into your knees after drawing them as close to your body as possible. He had just rounded the corner of the hall, hissing into his phone about the absolute fucking disaster that was Hoseok’s assignment, when he’d seen you and he felt like time had slowed. Something about you, about the heart wrenching way your body curled up that made him feel…protective. It was his job to protect Taehyung, sure, but you were an entirely different story. You had nothing to offer him. No kind of incentive for his comfort. And yet, when he’d walked over and reached out his hand, you’d taken it. Taken it so damn easily and allowed yourself to be comforted by a complete stranger. It was always a mystery to him, how you’d melted into his body without noticing the blood staining his white dress shirt.

“Joon?” your voice cuts through the hazy fog that was his trip down memory lane. Blinking back your tears, you cup his face to bring him back to reality. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that when Namjoon spaced out, it took a great deal to bring him back. But not with you. Never with you. Because, somehow, your voice and touch, and yours alone could bring him back in a matter of seconds. When his brown eyes finally clear, you smile softly at him.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he says, taking your wrists in his large hands and running his thumbs along the veins of them. A smirk plays on his lips when he notices you shiver. Not from the cold, but from him. “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you. Not the other way around. What was it that Minseok wanted anyway?”

“To have dinner. Or breakfast. Or, I don’t really know, but I know it had to do with eating in the same vicinity as each other,” you sigh and slump against the cool metal of your car. “I’m not exactly up for it, but I guess I should go. He says mom’s been asking for me, but I–.”

“What an asshole,” comes a familiar voice. One you aren’t exactly expecting, so when you jump, Hoseok’s deep chuckle cuts through the parking lot. You always wondered how he managed to stalk around without making a single noise. You feel Namjoon tense and tighten his hold on your wrists.

The taller man turns to his friend with a snarl on his face. “A little warning next time, jackass.”

Hoseok shrugs and purses his lips in an innocent way that makes you giggle. A grin splits his face as Namjoon scowls at him for being able to make you laugh when he himself couldn’t. “It’s late. Or early. Or fucking…whatever. Can we just go now? We kind of have someplace to be, you know.”

And by someplace, Hoseok means waiting outside of Choi Hyunwoo’s apartment to grab his ass and get back to Taehyung. He quirks his brow up at Namjoon, rolling his eyes when Namjoon ignores him to face you. He turns his back to give you guys some privacy, but fuck if he’ll stand there all day watching Namjoon make goo goo eyes at you.

“Don’t let Minseok guilt you into seeing him,” Namjoon says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I understand that you feel it over not seeing your mother as often as you think you should. It’s why I’m more than happy to set her up with private home care. That way you can also cut down on your part time jobs. They’re wearing you down.”

“Real charming, Joon,” you snort and shove him away. “But you know I can’t take you up on that offer. It wouldn’t feel right if I couldn’t at least help you pay for her care.”

“Then, for the time being,” he says through grit teeth, “at least let me stave off Minseok.” He’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist and haul your chest to his. Your squeak of surprise makes him chuckle and you blush. “Hobi, do me a favor. Take a picture of this.”

You don’t have time to question what the hell he was talking about because he winds his fingers through your hair, tilts your face up, and pretends to slants his lips against yours. You inhale sharply at the contact, fingers digging into his jacket in a death grip, and oddly, found it far too easy to lean into his faux kiss. Your eyes meet the intensity of his brown orbs, bouncing back and forth as if searching for something. Reason, perhaps? Or signs of insanity. Because why the hell else would Namjoon go to such lengths just to get Minseok off your back?

Namjoon’s gaze deepens, his pupils dilating from the proximity. He can’t seem to remember that it was meant to be fake. He was meant to look like he was kissing you, not actually doing it. But he’d be lying if he told himself he didn’t want to know what your chapstick tastes like. If it’s the usual, nauseating taste. Or if this is one of the rare times you’d reached for the strawberry flavored lip balm. He almost chuckles as he imagines you rummaging through your bedside drawer and plucking your least favorite flavor in your haste to get to work on time. He always tells you to toss the hated flavor in the trash, but you, for whatever reason, never do. Apparently, you only keep it in “just in case” situations. Situations such as running late for work and not having the time to turn your apartment upside down in search of the usual, worn down tube of chapstick.

Distantly, you recognize the faint sound of a cell phone camera going off, but when Namjoon sweeps the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, your thighs clench together as the feel of the roughly callused finger sets your body on fire. It’s such a simple gesture and yet, you find yourself unable to catch your breath. When he pulls on your lip as he traces a path down to grip your chin, you rise to the tips of your toes in anticipation. You’re far too ready to kiss him, and a part of you panics when a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. You flush, embarrassed to have been caught leaning into his touch so shamelessly. You consider punching him as you usually do when he manages to fluster you, but then he presses in further, his own plump lips skimming across your mouth in an almost kiss that has you panting with need. Your eyelids become heavy and they close as pure, unadulterated desire pounds deep in your bones and your fingers card through his soft hair. You feel him shiver against the feel of your nails gently scratching the hair at the nape of his neck.

Namjoon knows he has to gain control of the situation soon. It was spiraling, and quickly, and he was more than willing to allow it to happen. But he doesn’t want the first of many kisses to come, be one that stems from him trying to piss off your ex-boyfriend. Because there will be more to come. He will taste you properly and he will continue to do so until you say otherwise. You, and only you, have the kind of control over him that no one ever has. Not even Taehyung.

“Namjoon,” you whisper and you swear an actual groan leaves his mouth because your lips bump against his as you speak. “Please,” you beg even though you’re sure this is an entirely bad idea. Heat pools in your lower belly as you press up against him, his thigh slotting between the apex of your legs, a noise of excitement leaving your throat as he leans in.

“I’m only going to stand here for so long to watch you guys pretend to swap spit,” Hoseok comments in irritation. “It’s hot, sure, but we’ve got more important things to do, Namjoon.”

When Namjoon parts from you, the both of you are panting, breaths mingling in the cold night air. His hand moves from the nape of your neck to slide down along the line of your jaw. His thumb sweeps across your cheek softly and he takes his time to look over your flushed face and heaving chest. Your eyes are still closed, making his chest swell with pride when one shift of his body makes your fingers tighten in his hair.

You don’t even notice you’ve done it, not until you finally open your eyes to find that you are the one keeping him in place. Quickly, you release him and try to create some distance, but you only bump into your car door. You want to be angry with him. You want to question what the hell he was thinking. But most of all, you want to understand why it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. You’d known him since you were 18 and never once had it crossed your mind that he’d ever find you attractive. The same couldn’t be said for you, though, because you’d always harbored a small crush on him. You’d thought dating Minseok would quell that ache for Namjoon’s attention, but it really didn’t and you kind of felt bad when a small part of you wondered what Namjoon’s hand would feel like in place of Minseok’s on your skin.

“Send this to him,” Namjoon’s deep voice startles you while he holds out Hoseok’s phone. He watches, amused, as you stare at the picture on the phone. He can see your mind working in overtime as you process the seemingly loving embrace Hoseok managed to capture. “Minseok’s always thought you and I were together at some point, or even hooked up, so it’s not that odd to see us like this.”

“No, you can’t!” you squeak and try to snatch the phone from his hand. That attempt fails as he easily maneuvers out of reach. “Don’t send that, Namjoon!”

Hoseok snatches the phone from Namjoon’s hand and stalks off back to the car. He’s mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make sense of and slams the car door once he’s inside. Sinking down into the seat, he leans his head against the window to rest comfortably in hopes of getting some sleep.

“I have to go.” Namjoon sounds reluctant to leave as he steps away. He knows Hoseok already sent the picture to Minseok so there was no backing out now. In fact, Minseok should be calling you any second and he wishes he could stick around for that conversation, but Hoseok was right. If he didn’t leave now, then they’d miss Hyunwoo and the last thing they need is Taehyung tearing into them for screwing up. “Minseok will be calling soon. Ignore it, go home, get some sleep. I’ll check on you later.”

“But, I–.” you try to protest as he walks off and right on cue, your phone rings with irritating familiarity. “Damn it.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

“Why are you fucking with your own feelings just to piss off Minseok?” Hoseok questions Namjoon on the ride back home. He pays no mind to the muffled groaning coming from Hyunwoo lying on the floor of the van they’d swapped into later that morning. “It’s only going to get worse from here now. You know that, right?”

“Shut up,” Namjoon grumbles from the driver seat. He can’t say Hoseok’s wrong, he hardly ever is, but Namjoon isn’t willing to admit that. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as the memory of your lips and your touch, it all comes to the forefront of his mind and makes his chest tight. He had hoped that you did as he said and went home to get some sleep, but one quick peek at your Snapchat story revealed a breakfast plate filled with eggs and toast smothered in strawberry jam. Your mother’s favorite.

“You’re still pissed off that she went to breakfast with Minseok?”

“She didn’t go with Minseok. She went to see her mom.”

“Right,” Hoseok hums delightedly, “her mother. Who is currently being taken care of by who, again? Oh, right. Minseok.”

Namjoon uses the rearview mirror to glance back at his friend with a scowl. He knew he should have left his dumb ass back at home with Yoongi after he helped them pull the van from one of his family’s many junk yards. “You can join Hyunwoo in his misery, or you can shut the fuck up.”

Hoseok tosses his head back in howling laughter as Namjoon pulls through the security gates of Taehyung’s home. Pulling up to the front of the house, he gets out of the car to meet Taehyung and Yoongi at the passenger side door. He draws open the side door to reveal Hyunwoo bound, gagged, and covered in bruises. “Hoseok went a little…overboard.”

Yoongi’s low toned whistle makes him wince because he knows that Yoongi knows his lie was complete bullshit. “Damn, RM, you really did a number on this guy.”

“He tried to run,” Namjoon says as if it’s that simple of an explanation. When Yoongi shoots him a knowing look, he rolls his eyes towards the sky. That was, in fact, not what had happened and he had used it as a not so believable excuse to beat the shit out of Hyunwoo. It was a means to vent his frustration and Hoseok had let it happen without complaint. Then again, Hoseok never really complained about any kind of violence. Save for the few domestic ones he’d seen over the years. Oh, he’d always let his knife or gun do the talking then.

Taehyung climbs into the passenger seat and taps on the window as a sign for them to hurry the hell up before his wife comes storming outside. His phone rings while Yoongi jumps in the back with Hoseok and Hyunwoo. He answers it with a smirk on his face while Namjoon reclaims his seat behind the wheel.

Namjoon isn’t entirely sure what the conversation is about but it was pretty amusing to watch Hyunwoo lose his shit. When Taehyung throws out an innuendo that clearly has his wife panicking, he tries to hide his smile as Taehyung pulls the phone from his ear and stares at it.

“She hung up on me,” Taehyung comments in disbelief. He really shouldn’t be surprised that Nabi would hang up on him after his little quip, or the fact that she hadn’t entirely forgiven him for their fight last night. But if there’s one thing Namjoon’s come to learn in the decades of friendship with his six brothers, it’s that they’re all the smartest people he knows…and the dumbest. It’s a good balance of brains and stupidity, it keeps things fresh.

“I’m shocked she didn’t do more than yell at you last night,” Namjoon laughs. “Or that you didn’t kill Yoongi for being an instigator.”

“What good would it do me to be rid of him?” Taehyung catches Yoongi’s eye in the mirror. “But he is lucky I didn’t at least shoot him for it.”

“Jimin was the one who made it worse by giving you the spare key to your guys’ room,” Yoongi defends himself with a roll of his eyes. “Did it not get worse after you opened that door and Nabi nearly tore your head off?”

“Jimin’s not out of the woods either.” Taehyung scrolls through his phone, swiping through picture after picture that Hoseok had sent him earlier. Each of them include Hyunwoo stalking down various streets in his attempt to follow one of Nabi’s best friends. He thumbs through each one until…

“Is this a picture of you kissing Y/N, Namjoon?” Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot so far up that they nearly disappear into his hairline.

“Hoseok!” Namjoon barks back at his friend. “I said send it to Minseok, not broadcast it to everyone we know.”

Hoseok shrugs from his spot in the back. “As I recall, I said I wasn’t going to stand around all day while you guys made out. But you made me wait anyway. So, that’s on you.”

“My god, Namjoon, you really didn’t hold back, did you?” Yoongi is too busy peeking over Taehyung’s shoulder to notice Namjoon holding up his middle finger.

“Clearly, she didn’t either,” Taehyung notes, turning slightly so Yoongi can get a better look.

“Stop it,” Namjoon hisses, reaching out to take the phone from Taehyung. “You guys are like fucking children. It’s a wonder how Nabi can stand the two of you.”

“You’re awfully angry for someone who kissed the girl he’s been pining after for 10 years,” comes Yoongi’s voice.

“I didn’t really kiss her,” Namjoon growls low in his throat and contemplates shoving Yoongi out of the moving van. “And I haven’t been fucking pining, you prick.”

“Someone’s pretty fucking testy this morning,” his senior hisses back, having had enough of Namjoon’s pissy attitude.

“He’s just pissed that she spent the morning with Minsoek,” Hoseok not so helpfully supplies. “Apparently the picture didn’t do much to deter the poor bastard from asking her out again. Remind me why it ended between them again?”

Namjoon grips the wheel so tight that his arm shakes with barely restrained anger. Your relationship with Minseok ended on a relatively civil note. Something that always bothered Namjoon because it would have been easier for you to let go of him, or for Minseok to let go of you if things had just ended badly. But that hadn’t been the case. At least not from what you’d told him. You’d called him one night and, in an eerily calm voice, explained that Minseok had broken up with you. All of the time spent apart because of your part time jobs and having to tend to your mother had finally made him snap. You’d gone on to say that you weren’t really sure why you’d been so surprised. After all, Namjoon had been hinting at it for months but you’d never taken it seriously. It hadn’t bothered you that Minseok chose to part ways, maybe that’s why it angered Minseok when you didn’t want to reconcile. Maybe a part of him thought and still thinks that you didn’t care for him as much as he was led to believe.

Good, Namjoon thinks to himself. Good, because fuck Minseok and fuck his selfishness for leaving you at your most vulnerable, and then turning around and hoping to get back together. Namjoon will be damned before that ever happens.

He tunes back into the conversation when it steers to Nabi’s best friend, Soyoung, whom Hyunwoo had been tailing. They inform him that Soyoung can be just as cruel as Nabi if not more, and Hyunwoo seems caught off guard. Namjoon finds it easy to fall into the cruel amusement his boss and friends have at Hyunwoo’s expense. That is, until Yoongi brings up the subject of what you and Minseok could have possibly been up to if you weren’t answering Namjoon’s calls or texts. Namjoon quickly shuts down once more, sneering at Yoongi’s reflection in the mirror.

“Damn,” Hoseok sighs and pockets his switchblade as they come up on Taehyung’s father’s building. “Now you guys have done it. He’ll be pissy the rest of the day now.”

“Us?” Yoongi hisses, pushing Hoseok’s shoulder roughly as they scramble out of the van. “You’re the one who brought it up first, dumbass.”

“You didn’t have to mention that she hasn’t responded, dipshit.”

“Enough,” Taehyung hushes them as they walk through the back doors of his father’s building. He doesn’t often use them, but given how they’re still holding Hyunwoo hostage, he doesn’t really have a choice now. “We’ll talk about this later,” he addresses Namjoon after stepping into the elevator.

------------------------------------------------------------

Namjoon thanks whatever higher power that keeps Taehyung occupied with the Seong brothers at lunch so he can thumb through his phone once more. He’s been waiting all fucking day for you to answer his call, which is yet to happen. He knows he said you needed to get sleep, but damn it, he wishes he could go and check on you. That, and the fact that he and Taehyung are still reeling from their earlier argument is on his mind. Taehyung’s plan to put Nabi and Hyunwoo in the same room as each other while giving Hyunwoo the freedom to move about honestly scares Namjoon. It’s clear that Nabi is capable of handling herself against any normal person, but Hyunwoo has grown up in the center of the mafia, being spoiled and coddled so much by his father that he believed he was entitled to anything he wanted. This included Nabi. It makes Namjoon’s stomach turn sour at the thought of putting Nabi in a situation that could potentially destroy her strong mindset. But Taehyung has all the faith in the world in his wife and Namjoon can’t blame him. Nabi is the furthest thing from timid and weak.

Thunder crashes in the sky above and lightning follows, leaving their entire party to rush inside the cafe Nabi’s chosen to eat at. As they filter inside, Yoongi is hissing underneath his breath about getting caught in the rain while he shucks his jacket off to lay across an empty table. Jungkook and Jimin don’t miss the opportunity to piss him off further by shaking their hair about and spraying water everywhere.

“Damn it,” Hoseok seethes at the two youngest, resisting the urge to slap one or both of them upside the head. “Can you two be any less civilized?”

“Jungkook!” Namjoon slaps his shoulder after the youngest wrings out his jacket over top of Hoseok’s head. As if Hoseok wasn’t one of the most dangerous men in the city. “Behave.”

Jungkook snorts in response and sets his jacket flat over the same table Yoongi has his splayed about. He’s the only one of them to not notice Taehyung drag Nabi off towards the bathrooms and Namjoon’s eye twitches when the Seong brothers do notice and 4 out of the 5 men move to stop them from following Taehyung and Nabi. It would be alot easier if Jungkook would pull his head out of his ass and get it together.

“You can’t really expect us to stand here and do nothing?” Joongki, the oldest Seong brother and Nabi’s cousin, tries to shove past Namjoon.

“Unless you want to walk in on a very intimate moment,” Hoseok warns him while wrangling Jeonghan, Nabi’s other cousin, to an empty booth. “I suggest you sit the hell down and leave them be.”

“Nabi will be embarrassed enough without the two of you storming in there.” Yoongi grips Joongki’s shoulder and helps Namjoon shove him into the other side of the booth. “Know and understand this, Taehyung cherishes your cousin more than any of us here. There’s not a damn thing in this world that could stop him from giving her anything and everything she wants and needs. He will not hurt her, he will not coerce her into what’s happening, and he for damn sure will absolutely not touch her without her express permission.”

“Joongki,” Namjoon catches his attention, “I know you’re smarter than this. I know you would not have let Taehyung put Nabi under our roof if you thought we couldn’t keep her safe. None of us would let Taehyung hurt her. Jungkook nearly got himself killed multiple times just for stepping in between their arguments. Don’t lose your cool because you can’t handle that Nabi’s a grown woman.”

Finally, the Seong brothers seem to accept the words Yoongi and Namjoon speak, and Namjoon sighs in relief now that he can check his phone again. Still, nothing from you and it makes his blood boil. “Son of a bitch,” he grumbles, dialing your phone number and pressing it to his ear. “I swear to God, if you don’t fucking pick up…”

“Yeah?” Your breathless voice hits his ears like a symphony and all of the blood rushes to his groin. You’re met with absolute silence and pull the phone back to check if Namjoon had hung up. “Joon? You there?”

He coughs as his throat dries up and attempts to clear it in hopes of not sounding so gruff when he answers, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Just a little,” you huff out another breathless laugh. “It’s okay though. I had to get up and get some grocery shopping done before my shift at the diner tonight.”

“You should have done that after your breakfast with Minseok,” he growls, letting his temper get the best of him. “Then you could have slept longer.”

“I slept long enough.” You know he can practically hear your eye roll. “Joon, I didn’t have breakfast with Minseok. I went to visit my mother and he was there. He does happen to work there, you know.”

“Didn’t seeing my tongue down your throat scare him off?” he snaps back in response. “Didn’t it piss him off the way it pisses me off that he really thinks he has a chance after I sent you to him wet and ready for me?”

“Namjoon!” you gasp, clenching your thighs together as you had earlier that morning. What had gotten into him? He’s never spoken to you this way and while it did get you a little hot and bothered, it also reminds you of the almost kiss you’d shared. Something that most definitely should not have happened. It left you wanting much more and knowing you can’t have it. It’s a line you swore you’d never cross with Namjoon, not when he was your oldest and only friend. It would complicate things and you couldn’t handle losing him if it tore the friendship apart.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” his voice cuts through your thoughts, making your heartbeat skyrocket. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, that wasn’t okay for me to say. I’m just—.”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever explanation he has for momentarily forgetting you were his best friend, not one of the usual girls he sleeps with. “Look, Namjoon, I have to go. It’s going to get late and I won’t be able to get everything done that I need to.”

“Y/N, wait. I—.”

“And don’t stop by the diner tonight.” You’re adamant in this because a few of your co-workers had spotted him this morning and texted you to ask if you’d been dating again. You don’t need them to think you’re attached to anyone, especially not Namjoon of all people. It would only make things awkward when he inevitably got a long time girlfriend and you were stuck having to explain everything.

“Why the fuck not?” Namjoon tries his best to keep his voice down, but he’s not doing a very good job as Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s heads whip his way. “The area around the diner is dangerous, Y/N, I’ll be damned if anything happens to you.” He’s seething and it shows in his voice after hearing his full name from your lips. He’d learned long ago that if he made you angry enough, you would forgo his nickname in favor of his full name, and he never realized how much he hated hearing you say it until right this moment. “Where is this coming from?”

“People will talk, Namjoon,” you mumble, scooting to the edge of your bed in search of your pajama shorts. Your air conditioner has been on the fritz lately and it picks and chooses when to work. Today, it decided it did not want to work. Though it was still nice and cool outside, your apartment was like a damn furnace since the window latch had been broken. Admittedly, you don’t live in the greatest building with the greatest landlord. Or the greatest part of town. But it’s a roof over your head, so you can’t really complain. Namjoon had lost his shit time and time again when it came to your apartment so you decided to stop telling him all of its issues entirely.

“So, let them talk,” he growls, turning away from Yoongi’s questioning gaze. His stare, in turn, had the rest of the guys and Taehyung’s parents staring as well. It makes Namjoon tense up when they notice he’s losing this argument. “Don’t take that chance just because I pissed you off, Y/N. Don’t push me away and shut me out because I’m being an asshole. That’s my fault and I’m sorry. But don’t…” he sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can hear the rustling of your sheets as you move about your bed. His throat bobs at the thought of what the hell you could be doing to make that much noise. “Just don’t, baby, please.”

Baby.

He called you baby and a part of you softens at the pet name. The other part of you gets angry that he would try to manipulate you by saying it. You’ve watched him charm girl after girl when he got bored enough and every single time, they fell for it. You hated it. Hated how they got to see a part of him he would never show you because of your friendship. Hated that he was using those same tactics now to manipulate you into forgiving him. Your chest feels tight and there’s a hitch in your breath when you tell him, “I don’t want people to think we’re together. It’s bad enough Minseok bought into the picture Hobi sent him. I don’t need my coworkers thinking I’m ready to date again. Especially not you.”

He takes offense to that. So much so that his knuckles curl into a fist, one that’s two seconds away from meeting the wall in front of him until Jimin taps his shoulder. It’s enough to make him look up and find that everyone was ready to go after the rain finally settled. Poor Nabi looks ready to combust, her entire face as red as a tomato, and Taehyung looks too fucking smug for Namjoon’s liking. He hangs up without bidding you goodbye because if he opens his mouth to say anything at all, it’ll only upset you even more. Especially not him? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

His life was never meant for someone permanent or special to be invited into. Not with the constant danger lurking around every corner, or the men he regularly spends time around because of Taehyung and his own family ties into the mafia. While his father treats his mother like a goddess, and Taehyung does the same with Nabi, Namjoon couldn’t see himself treating anyone with that kind of respect while you were around. You occupy too many of his thoughts. He’s aware that all of this falls on him. His unyielding thought process of never fully committing to someone because of you, is entirely his own fucking fault, and he knows it. His parents would be ashamed of him if he were to ever marry and be unfaithful. Then again, who would he be unfaithful with if not you? You’d never allow it. You have too much self respect to ever be the other woman. It’s one of the things Namjoon respects the most about you. Some women didn’t care if they were some man’s side piece in the mob. It meant expensive gifts, expensive trips, hell, some men even bought their mistresses homes in order to keep them happy. It wasn’t odd for it to happen, but Namjoon had taken great care to surround himself with people fully devoted to treating women as more than just play things. He never thought he’d ever actually find friends like that, until he’d met Taehyung, and then Yoongi, and Hoseok, and so on.

He’s never told you what he does for “work” and you’ve never really asked. He can never truly tell you the truth unless he was willing to drag you into his life completely. Obviously, he really is ready, but you’d never plunge into this life head first without thinking of the consequences. It’s a dangerous line to toe and he knows he shouldn’t push, but clearly Minseok had said something to make you doubt him. Minseok had always made you second guess the things Namjoon did and said, and you’d cave under the guilty weight of taking Namjoon’s side over your boyfriends. Minseok had been able to weasel his way into your life and shove Namjoon out to the brink of Namjoon nearly storming to Minseok’s house with Hoseok and Jimin in tow.

Damn. He has to get you away from Minseok. And soon. Because if he wormed his way underneath your skin, Namjoon would well and truly kill him this time.

Parting ways with Mrs. Kim’s car filled with Nabi, her cousins, Jimin, and Jungkook, Namjoon plopped into the driver's side of the van they’d arrived in. Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok follow suit, all silently climbing into the car in a much more gingerly manner than Namjoon himself had. Taehyung, while still sexed out of his mind, still had the decency to ask if his friend was alright.

“Sounded pretty intense,” Hoseok said from the back seat, eyeing Namjoon’s rigid form. “What did Y/N say to piss you off so much? Because the last time I saw that look in your eye, we nearly wiped out the entire Lee family. They still haven’t forgiven us, by the way. Mr. Kim’s got them nearly beating down his door to get to you, Namjoon.”

The tall man pretends not to hear a word Hoseok says because of course he remembers. He’d gotten into a fight with you then too. He vividly remembers how you’d questioned his lengthy absence when you never had before. You’d always figured his business was his alone and you shouldn’t butt in. But that time, Minseok had managed to convince you that Namjoon simply didn’t want to be around because of Minseok’s presence. While that rang true, Namjoon couldn’t exactly tell you that he’d been sent on an assignment to the Maldives with Hoseok to deal with a shipment the Lee family was in control of. He’d been gone for almost an entire month when you finally called, only to ask if he’d tired of you. He could remember the sound of your voice cracking as you tried to hold back tears. He had tried to explain, tried to tell you that it was for work, but he could hear Minseok’s mousy fucking voice in the background, taunting you in a sickeningly sweet way that only he could. You’d said your goodbyes to Namjoon, almost sounding final, and Namjoon. Had. Gone. Feral. Absolutely apeshit and cut down a good portion of the Lee men because he’d been pissed. Later, he’d told Taehyung that the family was indeed skimming some of the product, which was why he’d been sent to the Maldives in the first place. He’d silently cursed Taehyung back then, well and truly hated the man that had become his brother, and for what? A stupid argument that Minseok had incited?

Taehyung clocks Namjoon’s grip on the wheel and winces at how his friend is about to lose all self control and possibly kill what little is left of the Choi family. For Namjoon to completely lose himself again, means that whatever is bothering him has to do with you. Taehyung almost feels bad for him, and he would offer some advice if he didn’t have bigger problems at hand. What he can do is try to free up some time for Namjoon to work things out however he needs to. Though, if this is anything like the situation with the Lee family, Taehyung can’t imagine the hell Namjoon will rain down on the poor sucker stupid enough to even so much as slightly push the wrong button. It would be a bloodbath of epic proportions and Taehyung runs a hand down his face at the thought. They can’t afford for Namjoon to be distracted right now, but it was inevitable. Every so often, Namjoon loses focus and becomes completely and utterly consumed by you. Even if you don’t know it.

Yoongi watches Hyunwoo raise a curious brow at Namjoon’s behavior and the tense silence compared to the friendly banter earlier. When he turns to meet Yoongi’s stare, Yoongi sneers at him so viciously that it makes Hyunwoo visibly recoil. He smirks and looks out the front windshield, watching the buildings pass by in a blur. He can see the cogs in the machine that is Namjoon’s genius brain turn and turn. Something had to have gone completely wrong with you if it’s gotten this bad again. He can see Namjoon’s pupils dilate with the rush of adrenaline he’s sure to unleash on Hyunwoo if he makes one wrong move. He’s quite sure that Namjoon almost hopes the Choi family fucks up so it’ll give him a reason to go nuts. Namjoon lives on fear and chaos, it’s one of the things that made him so frightening and dangerous. It’s one of the many things Taehyung had sought him out for as teenagers. By that age, Namjoon had quite the body count and truthfully, if he and Hoseok had to go toe to toe, everyone knows it would be pretty damn close. What makes him even more scary is that no one would ever be able to tell how much blood stains his hands because of his cool and calm demeanor.

Hoseok almost pays no mind to Namjoon’s disheveled state as he plays with his switchblade, every so often leaning over to knick Hyunwoo’s skin. It was almost torture and Hoseok knows if anyone could appreciate it, it’s Namjoon. However, with Namjoon’s lack of self awareness, Hoseok finds that he must enjoy this by himself. Really, he’s worried that Namjoon’s going to go on a rampage again. It took them forever to clean up the mess in the Maldives. Not to mention the complete shitshow that followed and Mr. Kim had to sort out enough for there to be some sense of civility. Goddamn it, he really doesn’t need another disaster on his hands. The Choi family better pray for themselves because God only knows what Namjoon is cooking up in his head.

Namjoon’s phone rings in the silence and actually makes Taehyung jump a little. He glances down to find the name “Hana” in bold letters taking up the screen. Namjoon lets it go to voicemail because Taehyung’s sure that it isn’t exactly the name he wants to pop up on his phone right now. He doesn’t know who the girl is, but if you catch wind of it, then it won’t be good. The phone rings again and Namjoon picks it up with some bite in his tone.

“What?” Namjoon snaps.

“Oh, hey,” Hana purrs back, giggling even though she can tell how mad he is. “Are you busy? I’m kind of bored and thought—.”

“We fucked once, Hana,” he sneers, “and it wasn’t exactly memorable for me, so find a different dick to suck.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon!” she screeches at his audacity. “You know, I don’t exactly remember you complaining when I sucked your dick, you asshole! Here’s a tip, Namjoon, maybe don’t be a complete prick the next time a woman reaches out to satisfy you. There won’t be many left if you continue on like that.”

“You’re a placeholder, Hana.” Namjoon smirks and the guys in the van inwardly groan because now some poor girl is about to get the brunt of his wrath. “I don’t want anyone else, just one girl, and she’s not you. Maybe some small, pathetic part of you had hoped you were special but you’re really not. I was drunk and bored and you were willing to spread your legs for me, so fuck off.”

Taehyung winces as Namjoon slams his phone back on the center console. Jesus fucking Christ, that was brutal. Namjoon’s not exactly a saint but he’s very rarely crude to a girl. Whatever you’d argued about must have messed him up good if he was speaking that way to someone. They reach the house just after Nabi’s car gets there and Taehyung basically leaps out of the van to usher his wife from the car.

Namjoon locks eyes with Nabi for a second before he turns his glare to Taehyung because not only does he have to deal with the Choi family, he’s still steaming from his conversation with you. He doesn’t see Nabi frown, only concentrating on getting Hyunwoo into the house without her seeing. He shoves Hyunwoo harder than necessary when Yoongi has to prod him forward with a gun. God, he can only hope this was enough to release some of the tension simmering beneath his skin.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re almost halfway through grocery shopping when a sense of dread settles in your chest. You don’t know what it is or how it was even brought on, but you know there’s something not right. You round the corner of the canned food aisle, determined to get away from whatever it was when you bump into a firm chest. Strong hands reach out to steady you while your breath catches. You look up to find a handsome stranger with the oddest smile on his face. It’s not menacing but it certainly isn’t friendly either. “Sorry,” you mumble, taking a step back to create some much needed distance.

He only smiles wider, raking a hand through his dark hair and waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s not a problem at all. It’s my fault, actually. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you alright?”

“Um, yeah, I’m fine.” You blink up at him, unsure of whether or not you should even keep talking to him. Namjoon always hated the way you’d become friendly with anyone, especially strangers. You’d called him out on it once, insisting that he was just being paranoid, but he didn’t budge. He always says no one can be trusted, but then you wonder what exactly makes him so trustworthy, or why he trusts you at all. The thought of your best friend sends a pang through your heart and you frown. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so harsh with him earlier. He was only trying to help, but you let your insecurities shine through and lashed out at him.

“Kang Chunghee,” he says, offering his hand in greeting. He can see the apprehension on your face even as you take his hand in yours and shake it. Taking a step too close, he towers over you in a way that almost makes you cower away. His eyes roam down your body from head to toe, but you’re so busy looking everywhere but him that you don’t notice. Your hair, he notes, and face look so much like your mother’s that it’s a wonder why you hadn’t been spotted before now. Then again, his father wasn’t exactly looking to make trouble with the Kim family, but he’d found out about your mother’s illness and insisted on seeking you out. His hand tightens briefly, making you wince, as the memories of his own mother begging his father to leave “that woman” be and come back home to her. He never did, of course, and soon sent Chunghee’s mother spiraling into a world of drugs and alcohol. Both of which killed her not long after your birth.

“Cho Y/N,” you reply with a hiss, trying to pull your hand from his. It takes a moment for him to realize he’d been holding on too tight and quickly drops your hand. You take this chance to scan his face and realize he looks vaguely familiar but you can’t quite place it anywhere. He could just be one of the many patrons that have come and gone from the diner. You meet so many people at your job that it’s not entirely out of the ordinary to run into someone while out and about. As if on cue, your phone rings and you scramble for it in hopes that it’s Namjoon and you can apologize, but you’re disappointed to find that it’s your manager instead. You give Chunghee a polite smile before stepping away to answer the call. She only asks if you can come in a bit early as one of the other waitresses has called in sick. You sigh and check your watch to ask for some extra time to go home and get ready. Throughout the entire conversation, you notice that Chunghee hasn’t left your side at all, and you tense up when he steps closer once more after ending your phone call.

“Ah, I have to apologize,” he says and takes a step back to give you some space. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Um.” You shift on the balls of your feet, clutching your phone tight in your hand and contemplating calling Namjoon. You shake your head. No. His paranoia is simply rubbing off on you and this guy hasn’t really done anything to offend or scare you other than being a little too interested. You remind yourself that at one point, Minseok had been the same way before he finally worked up the courage to ask you out on a date. “I really should get going.”

“Oh, of course.” Chunghee gestures for you to go ahead and walk on, bidding you goodbye with a simple wave. Once you round the corner to the registers, his smile slowly fades into a grimace. If your mother is as beautiful as you are, then he can see why his father was tempted by her. His chest grows tight and bile rises in his throat that he has to swallow down. As a child he’d always wondered why his father could so easily cast him and his mother aside. Looking at you now, he sees exactly why. He’s only ever seen photos of your mother and none of you, but his father had told him it’s because he didn’t even know you existed. Not until your mother had grown sick and you’d somehow gotten tangled up in one of the notorious Kim family’s webs. Fool, he thinks of you. If only you had never come up on the Kim family’s radar then you never would have come up on his father’s. Or, he supposes, he’s your father as well.

He gives you all of 2 minutes to get ahead of him before he stalks out of the grocery store to see you climb into a junker car that he can’t even fathom why it would even still exist. He slips into his own car, a much nicer one, and peels out of the parking lot just a little after you do. He takes turn after turn and a muscle in his jaw ticks when it dawns on him that you don’t even notice you’re being followed, and even worse, his eye visibly twitches after parking down the street from a rundown building that you seem to be living in. “For fuck’s sake,” he sighs to himself, running a hand down his face. He’s meant to hate you, to loathe your mother for stealing away his father’s attention and causing his mother to lose her damn mind. But a twinge of guilt eats away at him. His father was never the greatest man, but Chunghee’s certainly lived a much more lavish life than you have. His father may have laid his hands on him quite a few times during his childhood, but you’re so carefree that he’s actually envious, and even still, he feels bad that you’ve had to go nights hungry while he was gifted with so much food that he didn’t know what to do with it. He was 28 when he’d learned of your existence and by then you were already 18, living paycheck to paycheck and working yourself to the bone to afford your mother’s medical costs. Until that point, he and his father had always wondered where your mother had disappeared to. According to his father, she’d up and left one day, leaving behind most of her belongings for the obvious reason that she never wanted to be found again. She’d even changed her name and lived 18 blissful long years in the shadows.

Chunghee can only wonder how she’d never figured out who his father was until it was too late. If he’s correct in his math, she’d already been pregnant with you when she skipped town. Which means she had to have found out that his father was both married and a dangerous man. He can commend her for wanting to protect you, which was far more than his father was willing to do for him. If you weren’t somehow tied to the Kim family, then Kang Himchan would have swooped in and stolen you away long ago. But with Kim Namjoon hovering around so often, the older Kang could only grit his teeth and turn a blind eye if he didn’t want to overstep and start problems.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you emerge from the building, basically running, and jump in your car to speed off. He looks at the clock on his dashboard, guessing that you took far longer than you thought you would to get ready. He gives you a few extra miles before he starts down the same road you’d gone, following along until he reaches the diner just before exiting the city. It’s far, he realizes as another glance at the clock shows that it took almost an hour to get there. He’d paid no mind to the time when he’d scouted out the diner last night. He’d come out on a whim, wondering if you were well and truly under the Kim family protection, and snorted when you’d gone the entire night without so much as a hint of the Kims around. When you’d left for the night, he’d gotten out of his car to confront you, but then Namjoon had shown up, and Chunghee had frozen in place. He’d been wrong because not only had the Kims been hidden in the literal dark, Jung Hoseok had been lying in wait as well. Anyone in this line of work knows who Hoseok is, and if he’s hovering around you, then this is going to be far more complicated than he first thought. He’s tempted to go sit in the diner, but after the disaster that was the interaction in the grocery store, he doesn’t want to give you a reason to contact Namjoon. So he waits. For hours. 14, to be exact, and he finds himself shifting in his seat every 10 minutes. Why the hell he feels so inclined to sit around for your entire shift, he doesn’t know, but you have to be tired out by now. How the hell would it look if he’s the one that’s exhausted when you’re the one who’s been running around on your feet all day?

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You can feel it. You don’t know what it is or where it’s coming from, but you know you’re being watched. It’s unnerving, and while you’re trying your best to get through your shift, you also want to find out who could be watching. Not wanting to let them know you’re on to them, you keep plowing through orders and customers, running hot plates from the kitchen, cleaning off tables and kitchen utensils, and itching to reach for your phone to text Namjoon. But he hasn’t reached out to you either, making a small part of you actually want to cry because you’ve upset him. It’s not often that he gets angry with you, but when he does, it never takes very long for you to apologize or for him to check on you even if he is mad. So for him to go the entire day without contacting you is terrifying. Especially when you know something is wrong. When your shift is finally over, you say your goodbyes to your coworkers and check your phone as you head to your car. Your shoulders deflate with disappointment, thoughts swirling in your head, so much so that they drown out the sound of approaching feet. Fingers tap on your shoulder, and you whirl around with an ear piercing scream, only to have someone slap their hand over your mouth.

Hoseok looks at you with a raised brow, a little concerned with your pale face and the sweat beading down by your temples. You’re scared and he doesn’t like that. He removes his hand from your mouth, watching as your bottom lip wobbles in an attempt to hold back a sob. He grips your arms tighter than he means to. “What happened?”

You heave out a sigh of relief, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. “Oh, Hobi. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream like that.”

“You obviously had a reason to, so help me out here, and tell me what could have scared you so much.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise even though you know you shouldn’t lie. Hoseok’s always been good at telling when someone’s lying and you’re not entirely sure why you even tried. You watch him scan the dark parking lot anyways, fingers nearly bruising your skin with the force of his grip. You wince out loud, regaining his attention and he lets go of you.

“I’m sorry.” He frowns, reaching up to pat down your messy hair. “I came to check on you. Namjoon’s been out of it all day and I know you guys fought.”

“It was stupid,” you whisper, casting your eyes to the ground in shame. Hoseok showing up on Namjoon’s behalf means that your best friend isn’t anywhere near ready to speak to you again. You really screwed up this time if he sent Hoseok all the way out here when he could have just called you himself. You feel awful that Hoseok even drove all the way out here in person just because you’re having a difficult time processing everything from the day before. The way Namjoon held you and looked at you, it was far better than you ever imagined, and you let your insecurities get the best of you. You’re doing what you’ve always done when someone gets too close. You’re pushing him away like you used to when you were dating Minseok. The two of you had fought more than usual while you were with Minseok, and this fight reminds you of those times.

“It can’t be that stupid if you guys are this messed up over it.” Hoseok keeps petting your hair with affection, but he’s not fooled. Something else is going on here and you’re not being honest with him. He’s scared you before, albeit playfully, but even when he’d done it in earnest, you’ve never reacted that way. He’ll have to bring it up with Namjoon and hopefully it’ll be enough to pull his head out of his ass. After the disastrous confrontation between Nabi, the Choi family, and Taehyung, Namjoon had been even more on edge and left the house. Hoseok had assumed he’d come to tail you, but he wasn’t picking up his phone, so Hoseok drove out here to check. He’d grown worried when he got to the diner and didn’t see Namjoon’s car anywhere, so he’d gotten out to come ask you when his phone pinged with a message from Namjoon. He’d told Hoseok that he just needed air to clear his head and he was on his way back to the house. Hoseok was ready to leave it alone and go back himself, but his instincts had kicked in, and rightfully so. He considers memorizing the license plates currently in the parking lot to have Yoongi run when he gets back, but decides against it when he hears your car door open.

“It is,” you remind him. “It’s a stupid fight over a stupid thing and Namjoon wouldn’t get it, and I said some things I shouldn’t have. I just want some space, Hobi, is that too much?”

“Yes,” he growls, holding out the car door for you to climb in. “It’s too much for Namjoon and you know that, Y/N. He doesn’t like space when it comes to you and this fight is affecting all of us. We’re his friends too, Y/N, and it’s out of the ordinary for us to see him this way.”

“Then space is exactly what we need.” You slam the door shut, leaving Hoseok pleasantly surprised by your outburst. You’ve never taken that much attitude with him and he’s a little amused by it. You’re careful not to run over his feet as you back out of the parking space, giving him a small wave before driving away. Peering in the rearview mirror, you watch him fade into the background and miss the way his body locks up.

Hoseok turns slightly, meeting the eyes of someone he’s not quite familiar with, before the person rolls up their car window. There, he thinks. That’s what, or rather who, was bothering you. He glares at his reflection in the window as the car drives away, pulling his phone from his pocket to dial Namjoon’s number.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Namjoon sits in one of the lounge chairs in his small library at the house, his hair sticking up in every direction after running his hands through it. After the confrontation earlier with Nabi and the Choi family, he’d gone out for a long drive. He was tempted to drive up to your apartment, or even stake out the diner, but he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing you without forcing a conversation. The last thing he wants is to disrespect your boundaries, but his skin prickles at the thought of not checking up on you. He could never forgive himself if something were to happen to you. A light knock on the doorframe gets his attention and he looks up to find Nabi leaning against it.

She gives him a soft smile when he gestures to the empty chair across from him, striding across the room to sit. “Are you alright?” “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” he snorts in response, pinching the bridge of his nose as the tension in his neck travels up to the base of his skull. “It was a hard day for you.”

She nods slightly. “Namjoon, can I…” she trails off, fiddling with her thumbs anxiously but he doesn’t push, only giving her the time she needs to gather her thoughts. “What I did today, with Hyunwoo, and the gun. How did it look to you guys?”

“What do you mean?” He’s obviously confused because she can’t really mean to think his opinion of her has changed to a bad one.

“Did it look like I was hiding something from you guys?”

“No,” he answers immediately. “Nabi, Hoseok told us that he suspected you weren’t exactly timid a long time ago. None of us really thought you were to begin with. Taehyung didn’t scare you, Jungkook and Jimin didn’t scare you. Hell, even Hoseok couldn’t scare you off even when you know the kinds of things we do.”

She inhales sharply, taking his hand when he offers it in support. “Growing up in this life definitely hardens a person, but sometimes I think I take it too far.”

“We’ve all had to do some unforgivable things to survive this life.” Namjoon’s thumb skims across her knuckles. “I think the way you kept that part of yourself closed off was just a way to protect yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that, even if Taehyung was angry about it. I’m glad you opened up, Nabi, it means you trust us enough to be comfortable.”

“Comfortable enough to ask what’s going on with you,” Nabi quickly changes the subject, jumping right into what she came to the library for in the first place.

“It’s Y/N,” he sighs, dropping her hand and sinking back into the chair. “I may have had Hoseok send a picture to her ex that made us look like more than friends, and she got angry with me. She said she didn’t want me hanging around the diner for awhile to avoid her coworkers asking questions. For whatever reason, she doesn’t want them to think she’s in a relationship with anyone, but before we could really get into it, I had to focus on the situation here and I haven’t called her since.”

“Namjoon,” Nabi admonishes him, slapping his arm lightly. “First of all, as much help as you think the picture was, I can promise you, it wasn’t. Secondly, how do you think she’ll feel if you start showing up around her coworkers and she has to explain that you’re just friends even though they’ve seen more? Honestly, Kim Namjoon, did you even fully think of the consequences that picture could bring?”

Namjoon opens his mouth to argue when his phone starts to ring and Nabi takes that as her victory before slinking out of the room. He shakes his head, amused but doesn’t want to admit it, before answering Hoseok’s call. “What is it?”

“Y/N’s being followed,” Hoseok wastes no time getting to the point. He’s already in his car, speeding after you and your stalker, but he was too far behind to begin with. His palms begin to sweat with what he can only describe as fear when he has to slam on the brakes at a nearby intersection. “Fuck!” he curses, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, losing sight of your car. “I lost them.” “Where?” Namjoon is up and in the garage, car keys in his shaking hands as dread fills his entire body.

“Not far. If you leave now, you should meet her just as she’s getting home.”

Shit, Namjoon seethes to himself. His hands tighten on the wheel as he speeds down street after street. Shit, shit, shit! He tries calling you, but you don’t answer, and he doesn’t want to panic. You’ve just worked another double, he reasons, you always forget to take a phone charger with you so your phone had to have died. That has to be it. For the sake of whoever is stupid enough to follow you, that had better be what happened. The automatic voice echoes in the car as he gets your voicemail one more time. “Baby,” he says after the beep, “I know you’re angry with me, but I need you to pick up the phone.”

Three more unanswered calls later, his body is wound tight as he pulls up to your apartment building, not seeing your car anywhere in sight. He jumps out the driver’s seat and bolts up the stairs to your apartment, pounding on the door, but he’s met with more silence. He has to call his father, has to get their men out there in search of you, he has to. Has to. Has to. Has to.

“Joon?” your voice reaches his ears, but you’re not sure he actually hears you. You take in his heaving shoulders and chest, the shaking of his hands, and lay your palm on his shoulder to get his attention. You gasp in pain when he rounds on you, shoving your back into the wall with his long fingers wrapped around your neck. Your hand wraps around his wrist to try and pry it away, looking into his eyes to find them nearly black with rage. “Joon! Namjoon, it’s me!”

Namjoon’s eyes finally clear, blood still roaring in his ears as he seems to recognize you. He glances down to find his hand around your throat, quickly releasing you. “Oh fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry!” He holds on to your shoulders as you cough violently, trying to take in all the air you’ve lost, sliding down the wall as if to ground yourself. He falls to his knees in order to maintain eye contact, spearing his fingers through your hair to keep it out of your face, touching his forehead to yours. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. Are you okay?”

The hold you have on his wrists never loosened, and you use it now in support as the spots in your vision begin to disappear. You’re gasping as you brace your free hand against his chest, unsure if you want to push him away yet. “Jesus fuck, Namjoon. What the hell?”

“I’m sorry! I thought…”

“What could you possibly have thought?” You finally shove him away and stand up, fishing the apartment keys out of your pocket. You shove them in the keyhole, unlock the door, and throw it open as Namjoon follows you inside. Reaching up to your neck, your hand shakes as it feels around your sore throat. “As if Hoseok popping up wasn’t scary enough.”

“Hoseok scared you?” Namjoon’s body grows tense all over again, turning to close the apartment door.

“He didn’t mean to.” You shake your head, shucking off your jacket and tossing it onto the kitchen counter. “I was just a little off tonight, that’s all. Hoseok snuck up on me after work.” Making your way to the cabinets overhead, you pluck out a cup to fill with water. You stand facing away from him to gulp down the water. All day you’ve been wondering what you could say to him, but now that he’s here in front of you, all words are lost. It’s not just because you’re angry with what just happened, it’s that you don’t know how to even process it.

“How many times can I say I’m sorry?” His chest presses to your back, the deep rumbling of his voice vibrates against it, your treacherous body leaning into him. He braces his hands on the counter, trapping you in place, and presses his forehead to your shoulder. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I put it on silent,” you whisper, turning your head so your lips skim his ear. The tips of his ears turn red even though you didn’t mean to be directly in his ear, you smile. “I forgot to put the ringer back on after Hobi scared me in the parking lot.”

He hums in reply, one arm sliding across your belly to hook around your waist completely, pulling you against him. The sun peeks through the window, having risen in the time he’s spent in your apartment. “Another late shift, then?”

“Mhm,” you confirm with a nod of your head. You meet his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. You glance down at his lips, tipping your head back just slightly and you swear he groans as he lowers his mouth to yours.

There’s nothing stopping him from kissing you this time. Not a damn thing stands in his way. That is, until there’s a knock on your door that has you jumping out of his embrace before he can actually do anything. He curses whoever is at the door, taking the cup you set on the counter to take a sip of water. His ears pick up the grating sound of Minseok’s voice, and he’s slamming the glass down on the counter before he can stop himself from getting even more pissed off. Striding to the front door, he reaches it just in time to watch you crumble to your knees, but he’s quick to stop you from hitting the floor. “Y/N?! What happened? What’s wrong?”

“She’s go–,” you sob out, tears streaming down your face endlessly. “She’s gone, Joon. She’s gone!” you shriek, gripping onto his forearms as your wails fill the apartment. Your throat is raw from screaming but you can’t seem to stop yourself. You knew it was coming, had always known, but you were never actually prepared for it.

Namjoon’s heart breaks with every body wracking sob you let out, and it hits him then just why Minseok was there. He holds you close, rocks you back and forth in hopes of soothing you, but it isn’t working. From the corner of his eye, he sees Minseok’s fingers twitch, trying to keep himself from reaching out to you, but Namjoon pulls you closer, refusing to allow Minseok to touch you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes you think the skies know when to be gloomy. The gray clouds that loom over the funeral procession feel as though they’re mocking you. Your mother loved rainy days, something you couldn’t come to enjoy as you grew older. You thought they were depressing, always lending a hand in her dwindling health, but she flourished in the rain. She came alive when the downpour would drench her to the bone, and as a child, you would giggle and dance in the rain with her. You remember kicking up puddles, getting your feet dirty and clothes wet, and it was everything to her. Growing older, though, you found that with the rain came runny noses, horrid coughs, sore throats, and missed days of school. You came to detest them until she got sick, and it was all she’d ask for; to see the rain.

People, mostly Namjoon’s parents and friends, and some of your coworkers, gathered around you in comfort. They only want to help, you know this, but they’re not. Most people welcome the condolences and the sympathy, but you can’t seem to. You feel overcrowded, lost in a sea of people that you don’t want to see you break down. So you hold it in. Sometimes your breathing grows ragged as you try to hold back, but you manage to compose yourself before they can gather what’s happening. Namjoon is by your side the entire time, along with his parents, and they’re the only comfort you can find. The only ones you can stand to be around right now. They truly are your only family. Hoseok, Jimin, Jungkook, Yoongi, Seokjin, Taehyung, and Nabi take their turns to cradle you close. They aren’t just Namjoon’s friends, they’re yours too even though Hoseok was really the only one you’d spent an extensive amount of time with. Recently though, they’ve been coming around to the apartment when Namjoon was busy, all of them doing their best to keep you distracted.

You’re sat in front of your mother’s picture with your head resting on Namjoon’s shoulder while everyone else is lined up against the wall, giving you and Namjoon the space you didn’t have to ask for, they just know you need it. Namjoon grips your hand tight, linking your fingers together and bringing up your joined hands to kiss the back of your knuckles. You peek up at him through tear filled lashes, breathing easily when he drops his forehead to your own, but that serenity doesn’t last long. A commotion breaks out at the entrance of the funeral hall, people whispering and darting about in a hurry. Namjoon’s father grits his teeth and demands to know what could be going on, when your breath hitches at the next person who steps foot in the room.

Chunghee has the decency to look apologetic as he catches your eye, taking a moment to dip his chin in greeting before stepping aside to reveal his father, Kang Himchan. He sees Namjoon tense, standing to his full height immediately to back his own father. Chunghee steps towards them in hopes of gaining control of the situation, but Kim Taehyung is quick to meet him. “Taehyung,” he simply says as if this were at all normal.

“Kang,” Taehyung says through clenched teeth, tipping his head in your direction. Jungkook and Jimin are the first to reach you, followed by Seokjin and Nabi. Hoseok and Yoongi take their place on either side of Taehyung.

“What the hell is this?” Namjoon’s father levels Himchan with a look that would send most men running. “How dare you come here and disturb this girl’s grieving. Have you no sense of decorum, Kang?”

“I am here to offer my condolences, obviously,” Himchan keeps his voice steady. Your mother was unknowingly his mistress, but he had loved her dearly, and wants nothing more than to know and understand you. His eyes search the room, finally landing on you, and they soften. You are the spitting image of your mother and it makes him breathless for a moment. He forgets who you’re surrounded by, taking a step in your direction, only to be met by Namjoon’s hard glare. His hackles raise, face turning red with anger. “You dare keep me from my own daughter, Kim?”

All of the air rushes out of your lungs as you struggle to breathe. Your body begins to tremble, view being blocked by Jungkook’s body, but you catch his hand sliding into the back waistband of his pants. A gun, you realize, and look around to find that he’s not the only person hiding one. Hoseok’s hand rests on his hip, the holster becoming visible as his suit jacket moves with him. Jimin and Yoongi exchange a knowing look before they too reach for their hidden weapons.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want when it comes to her,” Namjoon snaps back at Himchan, causing the older man to step toe-to-toe with him. He smirks at the older Kang. “That’s not a smart move.”

Before anyone can blink, weapons are drawn, all aimed at different people around the room as more men come barreling in behind Himchan. They surround their boss, standing in front of raised guns without a second thought. You scramble back towards the wall, as if pressing against it enough will make you invisible. Nabi is at your side, shushing you and squeezing your hand tight.

“Enough,” Namjoon’s father bellows, throwing his hand up to stop anyone from actually firing. Putting his hand on his son’s shoulder, he pulls Namjoon back. “This isn’t the time or place, Namjoon. Go to Y/N. We’ve frightened her on an already stressful day.”

“Y/N,” Himchan repeats as though unused to saying your name, a smile playing on his lips at the sound. It was so like your mother to have picked something equally as beautiful as you are. His smile fades as he straightens himself up to look Namjoon’s father in the eye once more. “I’m well aware of her ties to you, Kim, but that is no more. She is my kin. My flesh and blood. It’s time she lives as such.”

“I don’t know you,” your voice cuts through the room, shaky and trembling. “I don’t know what the hell is even going on right now.”

“Y/N,” Chunghee finally pipes up. If he had known this would turn out to be such a shit show, he’d have never told his father about your mother’s passing. Ah hell, he knew it was going to be bad, he just didn’t really want to believe it. “Please, you have to believe us.”

“She doesn’t have to do a damn thing,” Namjoon roars and his friends tense, unsure of what he may do next. “You come here, Kang, declare her your daughter, and expect her to up and accept it? You’re out of your fucking mind. Even if we did believe this bullshit, I wouldn’t let her go anywhere with you.”

“You?” Himchan sneers. “You think you get any say in this? She’s my daughter, Kim. I’ve bit my tongue and kept my distance long enough, but now she needs us. Her mother is gone, her family is nowhere to be found, she is alone. But not with us.”

“She’s mine.”

You let out a small gasp at Namjoon’s tone. You’d only ever heard him use it against Minseok when he was mad enough. You’re not sure what the outcome of this entire standoff will be, but you know you wouldn’t be able to stomach it if anyone got hurt. You’re able to wrestle out of Nabi’s hold enough to slowly approach Namjoon’s side, tangling your fingers with his. “Joon, let’s not do this, okay? Not here and not today. Please?”

Himchan’s surprise is visible on his face when Namjoon heeds your words, backing down almost instantly. He knew you were close to the Kim family and, up until recently, he was under the impression that you and Namjoon were just friends. Everyone else in the room seems to be used to this, and so he has to wonder when the change came about. Hope blooms in his chest as the gears in his mind begin to whirl.

“We should go home for now,” Taehyung suggests, though as Nabi stands at his side, he’s pretty sure everyone knows it’s not his idea, but hers. He tries to hold in a sigh when Namjoon shoots him a glare. “Y/N will come home with us, Namjoon, don’t worry.”

“But I—,” you try to object, unable to accept anything more Taehyung has to offer. Not when he’d already done so much for you as is.

“Hoseok and the guys will move your things in,” Namjoon interrupts, leaving no room for argument. He tugs on your hand and leads you out of the funeral hall, bumping his shoulder against one of Himchan’s goons. He can feel the reluctant pull of your arm, but he refuses to let go, not until the two of you reach his car where he buckles you in safely before sliding into the driver’s seat.

The ride home is tense, the car filled with nothing but silence and what you suspect is grumbling coming from Namjoon even though he thinks you can’t hear it. He’s angry. More like pissed. This isn’t something any of them were prepared for. Hell, it wasn’t something any of them would have ever thought possible. Of all the people on this planet to be related to, the Kangs were the last ones anyone would have figured were your relatives. Not only that, but Himchan had forced Namjoon to show his hand, to show you a world he never should have dragged you into. He never thought he could come to regret befriending you in that hall so many years ago, but now he does. If only because he doesn’t really believe he could protect you from the power the Kang family holds. His own family is rather powerful, there’s no doubt about that, but if anyone could hold a candle to them, it’s the Kangs.

“Namjoon,” you try to get his attention, “you’re angry.”

“I’m worried, baby, it’s different.”

“Because you think it’s true?”

“Because if it is true, then I don’t know if I can protect you,” he begrudgingly admits.

You’re confused as you take in his words. What could you possibly need protection from? Even as you question it, the memory of everyone in there, guns drawn, comes to the forefront of your mind, and you know. You know Namjoon is hiding something. You’ve always known, but you could never have guessed it was to this extent. “Tell me,” you demand quietly and he strains to hear you. “Tell me, Namjoon, what all of that was about. What you’re hiding from me and what you’re afraid of because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that if you’re scared, then I have to be too. So, please, tell me.”

So he does. Namjoon tells you everything, from beginning to end. What his life was like growing up in the mafia, what he’d had to learn in order to protect himself and those closest to him, and more importantly, why he had to distance himself during the 10 years of your friendship. The only thing he left out was how utterly obsessed with you he’d become. He sounded crazy enough as is, no need to tack on that he basically stalked you from the day you met him. You’re quiet after he’s finished, spending the rest of the ride home staring out of the window. Even as he pulls into the driveway, you only stare up at the giant house Taehyung had built for Nabi a few years ago. Once in the garage, you unbuckle yourself at an alarmingly normal speed, as if you hadn’t just been told that your best friend was in the goddamn mafia of all things. What’s more, all of his friends and family are part of it too, and he’s afraid you might fear Hoseok now, but when you step into the house and Hoseok is the first to sweep you up into his arms, you cling to him as you always have.

“You’re not part of them,” Hoseok insists, mainly because from what little of his childhood he remembers, the Kangs were the driving force behind him becoming an orphan. “Even if you were, blood doesn’t make them family, Y/N. Himchan is wrong. We’re your family.”

“Do I have to go with them?” you ask honestly, pulling back to look up at Hoseok. He may not have been truthful with you, but he never lied or coddled you either. “If they come for me, Hobi, do I have to go?”

“Over my dead fucking body,” comes Namjoon’s deep voice and you gasp at the stark difference. How you were never able to differentiate his tones before is beyond you. Then again, you think you may have purposefully ignored the signs, wanting to believe he could do no harm. He snatches you out of Hoseok’s arms, pulling your chest flush against his own and raking a hand through your hair. “There’s nothing on this planet that can take you from me, Y/N, not even Kang Himchan or his son.”

“Chunghee,” you hum. Despite all of the commotion, the only thing he’d had to say was that you had to believe what his father had been saying. You could hear the plea in his voice, wondering why he hadn’t brought any of this up the day he’d run into you at the store. Then it hits you, the realization that he’d done it on purpose. Was he why Namjoon had been so scared that day after your fight? Did Chunghee threaten you somehow?

“Speaking of the Kangs,” Taehyung says as he strides into the living room, dropping himself on the couch while Nabi gives him a stern look. “Princess, I’m tired, and I can bet everyone else here is too. Can I just sit for a second?”

Nabi rolls her eyes, cheeks turning a faint shade of pink at the pet name he’s given her since they’ve been married. She lets out a small squeal when he pulls her onto his lap. “You’re an idiot, Tae. But you’re right.” Turning to face you and Namjoon, she explains, “The Kangs are well known in our circle. Even my grandfather made a deal or two with them, and while they’d given us no reason to not trust them, they’ve made it clear that they’re not out to make friends. They’ve built themselves a solid reputation starting all the way down from Himchan’s great grandfather. They’re a prestigious family, Namjoon, not easy to break through, not like the Choi’s. If you want to fight them, it’ll have to be with some heavy artillery. I can ask my cousins for their support and they’ll grant it, but it’ll take more than that.”

“That’s hot,” Taehyung attempts to whisper in his wife’s ear but everyone still hears it and Jungkook audibly gags. He’s always loved how smart his wife is and he’s not ashamed to show it.

“Stop it.” Nabi swats at his hand, climbing off his lap to walk up to you. “Y/N, you have to understand what could happen if we go to war with Kang Himchan. I don’t want to scare you, but it’ll get bloody and it’ll get deadly, but you have to believe that if anyone can protect you from them, it’s Namjoon. I’m not saying you have to go with the Kangs if they come to collect you, but” –She raises her hand to stop Namjoon from butting in–, “you also don’t have to stay here. If you want to get to know your father and brother, that’s your decision. We won’t stop you from doing it and we most certainly won’t isolate you for their actions and wrongdoings.”

“War?” is all you can say. It’s the only thing that had really caught your attention. That and the blood and death.

“War,” Namjoon confirms, tightening his hold on your waist. “The Kangs won’t let you go so easily, but neither will I. Give Hoseok your apartment keys. He’s taking Jimin and Jungkook to get your things. I don’t trust that they’ll pull some shit if they know you live alone.”

“I can’t just take up a room here, Joon,” you insist even as you hand off your keys to Hoseok.

“Oh, you’re not taking up a room,” Hoseok chuckles, taking the keys from your outstretched hand. “You’re sharing Namjoon’s room.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

“This isn’t happening.” You gawk at Jungkook and Jimin moving your things about Namjoon’s room a few hours later. They lug in a suitcase with a good portion of your clothes, most of which is jeans, t-shirts, and a bunch of pajama pants and shorts. Nabi had insisted on going with them to rifle through your clothes, throwing out the tattered pieces you’d shoved to the back of your closet and forgotten about. You turn to Namjoon lounging on his bed, looking as though a bomb hadn’t just been dropped on both of you. “You can’t be serious about this, Joon. I mean, this is your personal space, you can’t be happy about me invading it. The house is practically on full lock down, I’m sure there’s a spare room I can use.”

“No,” is all he says, reaching out to grab your arm and tugging you into the space next to him. “Taehyung’s taken every precaution to protect Nabi and I’ll do the same for you.” He looks as though he wants to say more but decides against it, getting up from the bed to slap Jungkook upside the head when he notices the younger man mocking him.

“Nabi said Taheyung didn’t allow her out unless Jungkook and Jimin were with her.”

Namjoon freezes at your words. Of course you’d ask Nabi what it was like living here, and of course Nabi wouldn’t spare any details. Jimin and Jungkook stare at him, waiting to take his lead and willing to downplay their roles as Nabi’s guards if necessary. He sighs and figures he’s done enough lying to you. He turns to see you with crossed arms and a look that says you already knew what to expect. “The same rules apply to you, Y/N. Until this situation is settled, you can’t go anywhere unless Hoseok and Jimin are with you, or I’m with you, or all three of us are escorting you somewhere. I’m not going to lie to you and say you’ll have everything you need here, but you’ll never be bored. I was going to have Seokjin or Yoongi assigned to you, but Jin’s helping Yoongi with something important and it’s taking all of their focus. Also,” he hesitates as you raise your brows, waiting for him to continue. “You can’t contact Minseok.” It’s entirely selfish of him to forbid any contact with Minseok, but it’s an opportunity he’ll take.

With a roll of your eyes, you sink further into the bed, leaning back into his pillows. “Not that I want to talk to Minseok, but he did take care of my mom, Namjoon. I at least owe him a thank you.”

“Not right now,” he seethes, curling his hand into a fist, and Jungkook and Jimin take that as their cue to leave. Storming up to the bed, he grips your ankles and pulls you down to the edge. He smirks when you squeal in surprise, slotting himself between your thighs. When your squeal turns into a gasp, he knows it’s because you can feel how hard he’s gotten since you’ve been in the room. He plants his palms against the mattress, watching your eyes dart to the veins in his forearms, sliding forward until he’s nose to nose with you. “You can thank Minseok another time, sweetheart, but right now it’s best to keep your distance. If Kang thinks he can use Minseok to get to you, he’ll do it.”

Your brows draw together, regret settling in the pit of your stomach as you play with the collar of his black dress shirt. “My very existence is dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Not to me.” One of his hands comes up to brush the stray hairs from your face. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t even know who your father was until now.”

A light knock on his bedroom door lets him know that it’s Nabi and she’s going to give him about 10 seconds to be ready. He scrambles away from you just as she plows through the door, smiling sweetly before breaking the news. “Taehyung has accepted Kang’s request to meet with you, Y/N. I know we should have talked to you first, but I don’t want your decision to be based on emotion rather than rationale. Is that okay?”

You nod, grateful that she’s on your side and to have her as a friend. Sitting up as she approaches the bed, you note that she fusses over you like a mother would, righting your clothes and smoothing your hair down. You want to laugh, but then you remember that when you were little, your mother would have to step in to make you presentable when you’d been too rough on the playground. Your smile fades. “He’s here now, isn’t he?”

“Goddamn it,” Namjoon hisses, barreling for the door. “You could have given us a bigger heads up, Nabi.”

“That wasn’t my decision,” she barks back at him, and you blink at her in surprise. It’s not very often people can talk back to Namjoon and he’ll just let it happen. “Taehyung surprised me too when he said Kang would be here soon.”

“Let’s just go,” you sigh, getting up from the bed to follow Namjoon to the living room, Nabi not far behind. Your nerves shoot sky high as you get closer and closer to the deep voices of who you now know is your father speaking to Namjoon’s father. Two weeks ago, you’d been wiping down tables at one of your part time jobs, living off ramen noodles and sandwiches, and one more speed bump away from possibly losing the bumper to your junker car, but it had been worth it. You’d do all of it over again to take care of the most precious person to you. How your life got turned so ass backwards, you don’t know, and you’re not entirely sure you want to figure it out.

“She hasn’t had to live up to traditions and customs,” Namjoon’s father sounds as if he’s on the verge of losing his temper. “You cannot throw this on her after she’s just learned of you!”

“That's why she should be moved under my roof!” Himchan snaps back at Mr. Kim and you pause at the entryway of the living room, neither of them even see you yet. “She can learn of those customs and traditions.”

“So you can pawn her off to some low life thug undeserving of her?” Mr. Kim scoffs. “I don’t think so. Y/N is as much a part of our family as she is of yours. Even more so since we’re the ones who have been there for her.”

“I didn’t even know she existed until Harin got sick,” Himchan mumbles, dragging his hand down his face as you finally come into view.

You sit next to Mr. Kim while Namjoon stands beside the couch and Hoseok parks himself behind it. You’re not sure where to begin or what you can even say given his position. If he’s as high up on the chain of command as Mr. Kim, then you’re pretty sure telling him to go fuck himself is off the table. You look around as if searching for something or someone, only to realize he isn’t there. “Where’s Chunghee?”

Himchan sits up straight as you finally address him, offering a polite smile in response. “Chunghee had some business to attend to overseas. As time goes on, I’m hoping your relationship will become less strained.” He frowns when you grow stiff, having misunderstood, though he’s sure the truth won’t be any better. “When I met your mother, Y/N, I fell in love with her at first sight. She didn’t know who I was or even that I was…married. My marriage had been arranged by my father, as his marriage was, and his father before him. In our life, it is rare to find and marry someone we’re in love with. We’re paired with someone we believe can carry a strong bloodline. Your brother is a product of a marriage neither I nor his mother had a true say in. He was only 10 when you were born, even younger when I started an affair with your mother. She didn’t know what kind of life I had and one day she was just gone. Somehow, she’d found out, and left town without telling me she was pregnant.”

“So, Chunghee hates me,” you gather from everything he’s said. “Because of you.”

“Yes,” Himchan admits, shame burning his throat.

Namjoon steps in front of you protectively, effectively cutting off any more access Himchan had. “Are you saying your own son is a threat? You want me to give her to you when your own son could hurt her?”

“I would never allow that,” Himchan insists, but it lands on deaf ears as Namjoon turns to take your hand, ready to drag you back to his room. “I only want a good life for her, Namjoon. I’ve only recently learned of her struggles, ones that you’ve allowed her to go through.”

“Allowed?” you question at the sheer audacity both of them have to treat you like an object rather than a person.

“I didn’t allow a fucking thing,” Namjoon interrupts and Nabi rubs at her temples in exasperation. “She wouldn’t let me help. She’s stubborn that way, but it’s what makes her so strong, Kang. Don’t think for a second I don’t know why you really want her under your roof. You already have someone lined up for her to marry, but that’s not fucking happening.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Nabi throws her hands in the air, stalking to the middle of the living room and commanding attention in a way that makes you envious. “Unless we’re all forgetting that Y/N’s here, I think maybe we should ask her what she wants. Mr. Kang, I understand tradition better than anyone here, but given that she hasn’t grown up in your care or home, you can’t implement traditional values without her knowledge of it. That’s dangerous and you know it.”

“Who is it?” your voice cuts through the room, stepping around Namjoon to face your father.

Namjoon looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head, mouth gaping open in shock. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“I don’t know what else to even do, Namjoon!” You throw your arms up in frustration, turning away from him with tears in your eyes. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with all of this.”

“Not by entertaining this stupid bullshit.” Namjoon’s hands curl into fists and Hoseok quickly takes up the space at your side in case his friend’s temper gets the best of him.

“That’s what I was hoping to talk to Mr. Kim about today.” Himchan faces Namjoon’s father again, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I learned about my daughter 10 years ago, Kim, when she was 18 and forced into working job after job until her fingers bled, and through all of it, your son was there. From my understanding, my father and yours had meant to work together quite some time ago and those plans fell through.”

Namjoon inhales sharply. Is Kang suggesting what Namjoon thinks he is? Could he really be handed everything he’s ever wanted right here, right now? Would you even be okay with that?

“I want him to vet Han Youngjae in exchange for discussing a new business venture that could benefit us both,” Himchan continues, sending Namjoon’s world crashing down. “You know as well as I do that the Han family has been around far longer than either of our families. Youngjae seems to be a good man, but I trust your son’s judgment, especially when it comes to Y/N. I’ve worked with the Han family for awhile now and the arrangement for my son to marry their eldest daughter is being finalized soon.”

“Then why the fuck do you need more ties into that family?” Namjoon’s tone has gone dangerously low, sending a chill down your spine, but rather than fear it’s bordering on something else entirely. “You come into her life, our lives, after she loses her mother and you want to marry her off to a family like the Hans?”

“I want to give her time to adjust to the idea,” Himchan clarifies, searching for some kind of hope that you’ll just think about it. “I truly believe—.”

“I will not entertain this idea,” Namjoon’s father stops Himchan before he can explain any further. “Besides the fact that it’s entirely absurd, Y/N has already been promised to my son.”

“I’m so fucking confused,” you say aloud without meaning to, and Nabi giggles while looping her arm through yours.

Himchan winces at your colorful language, sighing in disappointment. “Y/N, truly, you shouldn’t speak with such foul language, it’s unbecoming.”

“How my fiancée chooses to speak is none of your business,” Namjoon defends you, quickly growing used to the idea of calling you his fiancée. It makes his chest warm and body hum with need.

You startle, bumping against Nabi’s embrace. Namjoon’s casual use of the word “fiancee” makes your throat dry. You rather like the way it sounds, but you have to remind yourself that it’s just to get your father off your back. But then, if that were true, what was all of that back in his room? Namjoon’s been acting rather odd lately, invading your space, holding your hand, kissing your cheek. It’s enough to convince even you that he might actually have feelings for you. You let out a heavy sigh while shaking the thoughts from your head. No, Namjoon was well aware of how much you cherished your mother. He was simply helping you through the grieving process, and now with the looming threat of your father, he’s doing what’s necessary to keep you safe.

“It’s been quite the day,” Nabi’s smooth and commanding voice cuts through the men’s argument, effectively silencing them as they all turn to stare at her. “It’s late Mr. Kang, and while we understand your concerns for tradition and the need to keep up with them, we’ve taken your proposal into consideration and have deemed it unnecessary. As Mr. Kim has already stated, Namjoon and Y/N have been promised to each other. There is no need for her to marry into the Han family.”

“Now just wait a minute,” Kang says through gritted teeth. “Custom states that the engagement requires my approval, which I’m yet to give.”

“You’ve kept tabs on us all this time,” Namjoon reminds him with a wicked smile. “Surely you’re not so naive as to misunderstand just what we’ve been up to in the night’s I’ve stayed at her home.”

“Namjoon,” you hiss, cheeks flushing at his implication. True as it may be that Namjoon has spent a considerable amount of nights at your apartment, he really only slept on the couch and the one time he nearly slept in your bed, he’d conceded and left the room. “Stop it.”

“I’m stating facts, sweetheart, nothing more.” Namjoon turns to wrap his fingers around your free arm and tug you close to his chest. His arm snakes around your waist to keep you trapped against him. Your squeak of surprise makes him chuckle low and deep, making you shiver as he skims his lips across your cheek.

Kang curls his fingers into fists at the display. While yes, he was well aware of Namjoon’s overnight stays, he’d never seen any open displays of affection. He’s not sure if it’s because Namjoon is truly a private person, or if this entire charade is a lie. Either way, he cannot allow the opportunity to tie more of his lineage to the Han family to pass him by. He breathes in deep and exhales slowly to calm himself. “Fine,” he says while straightening the lapels of his suit jacket. “I will let this rest for now, Kim. But be warned, should I find anything false about this ‘engagement’ of yours, Y/N will live under my roof and she will marry Han.”

“You can’t—,” you begin to argue, but Taehyung beats you to it by instructing Jungkook and Jimin to escort Kang to his waiting vehicle.

“Understand this, Kang,” Taehyung seethes while he still has Kang’s attention, “I will not tolerate your persistence of taking Y/N from underneath my roof. If, and only if, she chooses to part ways with Namjoon, I will make sure she gets far away from us and you. Trust when I say this is not a war you want with me.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Take it as you wish,” Taehyung stands tall, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks as if to show your father that Kang isn’t nearly as in control as he believes. “But, much like Namjoon, I’m only stating facts. However, I will take into consideration another meeting with you and your son.”

“What?” Namjoon snaps, and becomes pissed when Taehyung holds his hand up to stop him from speaking further.

“I know that customs and tradition are being called into question, and while I don’t agree to forcing a marriage between the Han family and Y/N, it is my duty to consider it should any arrangements between her and Namjoon fall apart.” Taehyung frowns in your direction, knowing that all he can truly do is help Namjoon keep up appearances until this entire mess is sorted out. He can’t step in and completely dissolve whatever deal Kang has made with the Han family, but he can delay it until Namjoon can talk you into a real marriage. He hates it, and is well aware that keeping you from the Han family by forcing you into Namjoon’s family instead is rather hypocritical. He turns back to Kang and sighs in defeat, “I swear to you that I will consider it seriously. In the meantime, don’t hold your breath, Kang.”

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor with the way Taehyung dismissed your father like a child, and the fact that your father actually leaves after being waved away is even more shocking. You look to Nabi for some guidance, but she only shakes your head with a reassuring smile, leaving you to believe that things might actually turn out okay in the end.

#kim namjoon fic #secrets and lies fic #war of hearts universe #bts fic #bts smut #kim namjoon smut

23 notes · View notes

meret118 · 4 months

Text

2023 Review

This has been the worst year in my life. (Long post.)

Nicholas died in February. I thought he was just constipated, but he was 20 years old and my vet insisted I take him to the emergency clinic. I didn't like the place even then. They have all this fancy equipment, and they overcharge and overtest to pay for it. They insisted he stay overnight, which I didn't want, and wouldn't let me say goodbye to him. They called later to say I was right. They'd given him an enema, but wanted to watch him overnight. I should have gone to get him then. They called at 2 AM to tell me he'd died.

He started living under my car and following me around shortly after I moved into my apartment. He had horrible health problems, including stomatitis which made his breath and saliva smell horrible. I think that's why his previous people abandoned him. The idea of him dying alone in a cage thinking I'd done the same torments me. If I'd just followed my instincts it wouldn't have happened that way. I don't think well under stress anymore. I miss him so much.

That was my winter. This past spring I almost died myself. (I'm not going into the details about what happened.) I've read the hospital notes, and my oxygen rate got so low they even called my uncle at one point to see if he wanted them to try and resuscitate me if my heart stopped. I was in the hospital for weeks, but I only remember the last 4 days or so of being there.

I ended up losing the use of my non-dominant hand from a compression injury, and have been in constant pain ever since. The muscles from mid-forearm down have wasted away. You don't realize how much you need that hand until you can't use it anymore. I've always been healthy before this, and it's been a huge adjustment. I feel like I've aged about 10 years. Crafting was one of my main hobbies, and I can't do that anymore. It takes me forever to type anything out now too. ETA: The non-stop pain has been the worst thing.

Everyone except my mother knew she's had Alzheimer's for years. (She refused to believe it.) She lost touch with reality completely while I was in the hospital. The neighbors had to call the police, and they took her to the hospital where she lives. I don't know if the stress of my being in the ICU pushed her over the edge, or if it was just a coincidence. She had already started hallucinating some before that. My father has been in assisted living for Alzheimer's since 2018, and now she is too.

Contrary to what a lot of people think assisted living is paid for completely out of pocket. Regular health insurance doesn't pay for it, nor does Medicare. It requires long term care insurance, which they don't have. It's not cheap either. Hopefully they will have enough to last as long as they need it, but it's not a sure thing. If they do spend all their money, they'll end up on Medicaid in a government funded nursing home.

Assisted living is like living in a small apartment with daily activities, and even trips. (I moved them near me into 2 really good ones. ((They don't get along.)) My father is even gaining weight, and doing so much better. I go see them once a week.) A nursing home is like living in a hospital.

My father had a good job, (upper-middle class), but was forced into early retirement at 55 due to bad-mouthing the new exec at HQ. He was used to being the (regional) boss, and never got another job. That's 10 years of income he didn't earn.

What's even worse is they made each other their POA's instead of someone younger. After my father was put in assisted living, my mother met a man at an Alzheimer's support group who conned her into allowing him access to all her accounts. Everyone told her not to do it, but he's a CPA, and she had no experience with handling the finances.

I know he had a wife with Alzheimer's because Janice met her when she helped him find an assisted living for her. So he was there for a real reason, but I guess he saw an easy mark and decided to go for it. He made sure never to be around when I was there. She and I don't get along anyway, but I think he was also poisoning her against me based on some comments she's made.

It all came to a head late last year as her Alzheimer's got worse. I found out by accident that he has been stealing from them ever since he was given access to the money. He had romanced her into doing that and leaving everything to him in the will, a new will he wrote. As well as I can figure out he told her he just wanted to be friends as soon as he got what he wanted.

I tried to get a new will written, but her Alzheimer's was too bad at that point, and lawyers refused. My uncle saw a lawyer earlier this year, and he said we're screwed. When she dies the guy gets everything, even if my father is still alive. She's a narcissist who has ruined my life over and over ever since I was born. Now she's going to ruin things after death too.

I'm having to go through their 3 story house crammed with decades of things to get it ready to be sold. The basement is so full you can barely walk through it. I'm single, with no kids or siblings so it's just been me.

At the moment I'm pretty sure I finally have COVID. I have to stay isolated since I was exposed over christmas anyway, so I don't see the point of getting tested right now to find out for certain. I'm fully vaccinated, and my symptoms are very mild. My fear is of developing long covid.

#2023 #Nicholas #Health

18 notes · View notes

monkey-network · 10 months

Text

Good Stuff: Nimona

or How to Not Worry & Channel Your Inner Limp Bizkit

In the year before 2020, it was announced that Blue Sky Studios was adapting ND Stevenson's hit graphic novel. Everything changed though when Disney was on that bullshit post-Fox buyout, where to our surprise Blue Sky and Nimona would be shut down. The latter's cancellation hit especially hard understanding it was almost finished anyways, but that's Disney for you. Long as you don't say gay and give 'em your money, they'll stay out of the way. Leave it to Netflix to let the film rebound from Super Hell and finally make it to both the big and small screen; makes you forget they're garbage at anything else. All in all, Blue Sky had the last laugh one more time but was Nimona able to bring the flavorful fireworks or did we get a weak flare that fumbled before the 4th of July?

Well, I will declare now that the film... is fun. If it wasn't fun, that means Disney made it and would remake it live-action around 2040. This film is a ride-or-die by its titular protagonist and lads, I can't lie...

PROTECT. THIS. GODDAMN. SMILE.

Nimona is both a bundle of chaotic joy and an entity that deserved far better. She's like the manifestation of Limp Bizkit, 2000s punk, and B-tier shitposting rolled into an unapologetic but deeply frustrated rebel. I've seen naysayers before release going, "She's another attitude girl archetype" and like no. She has that raw gremlin bastard energy, but she's never an annoying bitch and that's big difference. The best thing is that you're with Ballister in getting to know her; it surprisingly hard for folk to be accepting of somebody harmless who's more comfortable with themselves than anyone lets on. She's not a character I felt forced to sympathize with nor was intrusive on Ballister's story. She's not exactly the focus, but she earned being the star of this movie.

I got major Haruhi and Kyon vibes from their dynamic and it's great

Plotwise, there's a good flow to it all that makes this rewatchable thrill. If there's one major gripe I have is that while Nimona and Ballister have a great dynamic, there's a part in the 2nd act involving them and the villain that was a bit rushed. I will admit to not have read the book, but while I do know the tone is different given they were probably going for an all age rating, I say things didn't feel too compromised. My mind is blown enough that we got an animated kids movie with two, COUNT 'EM TWO, openly queer protagonists. No winks and nudges towards Ballister being gay, no scatterbrained subtlety on Nimona's genderfluid existence, and thank balls their story exists as more than being a preachy memoir. These two get to just BE and live to go on a crime spree justice adventure. That is what I've wanted for longer than any of you think and this delivered. Any criticisms I could have I felt was diluted by the actual fun this was.

And if you've seen Iron Giant, you probably will love this movie

To conclude, I am wondering of a timeline where this wasn't originally cancelled and Blue Sky didn't get axed. This was as much their movie as it is Annapurna and DNEG who helped finish it. People said it looked "unfinished" but then again, given the situation I can cut it some slack because it still plays out gorgeously. Like you know Blue Sky got most of it done, but you think about the changes in direction and ponder if this was the best outcome for the film. It is poetic though, a phoenix forced to burn out but gets to revive as a stronger, if not more so, being that people finally get to see. For Nate, this is undoubtedly a dream come true. As for me, not since Puss in Boots The Last Wish have I been delighted to call this a...

9/10 ABSOLUTE BANGER

#nimona #nimona film #nimona netflix #Nimona movie #animation #cartoons #movies #reviews #Good Stuff

17 notes · View notes

gaydiation-poisoning · 1 year

Note

Revali from BoTW for the character opinion bingo!

Ohhhh you're gonna get me killed by the fandom for this one, that there is a character I have some BAGGAGE with

Okay here's my thing

I kinda despise Revali And it sucks because I really REALLY don't want to

Story time

I grew up playing Wind Waker, it was my first video game ever, and from that game the Rito were my favorite race, and they remained my favorite all these years. You probably wouldn't be able to find someone more hyped than me for the return of these beautiful birds.

So. April 2017. When I got my hands on BOTW I decided I'd save the Rito zone for last, I'd kept myself blind so I could go in and experience everything purely.

So imagine my surprise when I unlock the champion I'd been most excited for, the Rito, the champion of my favorite Zelda race from my earliest childhood memories.

And he was a complete fucking douchebag

At first I was like oh :( well okay maybe we'll be given some more information on him and it'll be better!! After all characters with huge egos can be extremely fun!!!

So I maintained hope that maybe the upcoming DLC would give us something

December 2017

We got something!! A teeny tiny fragment that suggested maybe Revali's ego was just a coverup for a deeply troubled bird, it was hardly anything at all but it was something.

But then his journal made him like 10 times worse in such a way that the DLC honestly didn't do much but make him more insufferable

So I was deeply saddened, they'd given us something but simultaneously made him more unlikeable. I thought that would be the end of it. But then!! Hyrule Warriors Age of Calamity was announced. And I was THRILLED. FINALLY. we were going to get AN ENTIRE game alongside the champions, I was gonna get more content for Best Girl Mipha, and FINALLY AN ENTIRE GAME'S WORTH OF CHANCES TO GIVE REVALI SOME CHARACTERIZATION. YES!!!!

November 2020. AOC comes out. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Revali what did they do to you? To my shock he'd graduated from a little unlikeable to downright unpleasant to watch. Even my best friend, a diehard Revali fan through and through, could not STAND what they'd done with him. We got a whole game with this guy and they basically spent the whole thing trashing this guy's character. He was arrogant to the point of annoying, horribly rude to characters who had done nothing to earn it, and overall was just kinda a ballache. And not even in the 'fun annoying character' way.

But hey!! AOC was getting DLC as well!!! That is meant to flesh out the characters more!!! We'll definitely get something there!!

October 2021. Guardian of Remembrance comes out. Yeah this DLC gave us fuck all really. That goes for all the champions, but I think Revali suffered pretty bad in this regard. Some of the scenes with Tulin were cute but they didn't do much in terms of Revali's character.

And....that's where we are now. Tears of the Kingdom is on the horizon, and I highly doubt we're gonna get much on the Champions in this game but...well I've maintained hope for six years already, why stop now?

So yeah my feelings on Revali are...complicated to say the least. There's so much I love about him, his design is probably my favorite of the Champions (next to Mipha), he easily has like...the best voice in the whole fucking game, and the character POTENTIAL is absolutely incredible. But all in all it feels like they've done nothing with that potential, for what is supposed to be the most Character driven era of Zelda to date, it truly feels like they've let his character stagnate, if not actively regress in a way that I REALLY do not vibe with.

I can see what people can love about him, god knows I've done more when provided with less in a character. It's not the ego that gets me, I love cocky characters, ffs my favorite BOTW character is Master Kohga for crying out loud, and that man has a damn near god complex. (Kohga, incidentally, has LEGITIMATELY EXPERIENCED MORE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT THAN REVALI. WHAT.)

Like I'm not saying I want his character to do a full 180, just a couple more scenes like what we got in Champion's Ballad, just a couple more cracks in the facade would have done wonders. But instead they just kept him rather one note. Feels bad man.

Ultimately it feels like they're just going in circles with this character, arguably the Champion with the most potential to be interesting and they're doing fuck all with it. I can see why people love him, but idk, I've dealt with a few people irl with egos like that and that's probably not helped.

Idk, I guess this character managed to regress perfectly into a niche I cannot stand, and it sucks because it feels like such a personal loss to me.

I guess to put it very shortly

Revali is a bully. And I'll take a full blown villain over a bully any day.

#OKAY WOW #that was a rant #i could probably write more but like holy fuck #yeah #sorry revali enjoyers #botw zelda #botw #revali botw #revali

15 notes · View notes

xplrvibes · 6 months

Note

Colby finally getting a Halloween outfit that looks decent on the third try, lol. What do you make of all his Halloween party looks so far? (Also how many Halloween parties have they been invited to? It feels like there's been on every other night for them all week lol)

Also I've noticed them hanging out with Jake a lot, do you think they're actually rekindling that friendship as well?

Well, look.

I support Colby's God given right to dress however he wants, whenever he wants. I support him spending his hard earned money on whatever - and whoever - he wants. I am supportive.

That being said, I really hope that stylist of his is not involved in his costume making decisions, cause if she is...omg is she taking him to the absolute fucking cleaners.

Ok, so the first night: I actually thought he was dressed as John Cena lol. I still don't really understand what was going on there, but at least it wasn't the koala onesie, so I guess I'll give it a 5/10.

The second night: was he like, a hulked up cowboy? 3/10 lol.

The third night: ...omg. How did he forget that he owns skeleton pants? He posted a pic of himself in the skeleton pants EARLIER THAT DAY. Why does he wear those horrible, sweaty, crusty leather pants with the giant ass pockets everywhere? 0/10, would've been better if he had just gone to that party as Colby Brock lol.

The fourth night: all I am going to say on this is that there is a reason he finally put more than 5 minutes of effort into this costume on this night. Someone made him go to Spirit Halloween cause someone didn't want to show up to the party in the company of a guy wearing an 8 year old Super Mario costume made out of duct tape lol. I liked the boots and the gloves. 7/10.

Last night: what the fuck. 0/10. No.

If I missed a night, let me know, but I think those are the 5 we've seen so far.

Now, onto Jake: it does seem that they are rekindling their friendship with Jake - although, to be fair, I do think Colby stayed friendly (distant, but friendly) with Jake during the "bad years." Colby had mentioned at one point that one good thing about his cancer journey was being able to really re-establish relationships with people he had lost contact with over the years, because they had reached out to support him during that process. I don't know if Jake was necessarily one of the people he had lost contact with, perse, since there were periods where Jake and Colby did hang out over the years - but I do think that situation did bridge some of the remaining distance and frostiness and reminded them that life is short and pettiness wastes a lot of time that you don't have.

#asks #disclaimer: my opinion and i am not a fashion house so take this as you will

3 notes · View notes

jiminie-and-his-pinky-finger · 2 years

Text

chapter: one

-> now-ta mar-iss || sailor of the sea

[synopsis] When Captain Kim Taehyung tries to rob a king, it doesn't end up the way he thinks. Together with his crew, the buccaneer tries to fulfill a quest given by the king to escape the punishment. When the intentions for the quest start to change, Taehyung battles between the selfish need to save himself and something he'd never thought he'd find. Love.

[pairing] piratecaptain!taehyung x tavernserver!oc

[tags/warnings] pirate au, fluff, angst, several suggestive themes (later on between oc and taehyung), mentions of blood and injuries, mild swear word in this chapter?, teasing, alcohol mentions and drinking, etc. i'll add more if i do come across any more warnings!

[word count] 1.5k

[author note] guess who's back from an unannounced writing hiatus? 😌 that's right, its ya girl! gosh i could go on about this story and the way it came to me and how i've just been living in this universe for the past few weeks. this was originally supposed to be a story that i wanted to work on to send to my bestie. but... it works out perfectly because it just so happens to be our second friendshipiversary 🥺 so this is for you babe! i hope we have countless more years where we can be together, @softbobamilktae! <3 without further ado, i hope you enjoy this!

♛•♛•♛

“Absolutely not!”

The roar of the man earned a few stares from the nearby vendors, but no one intervened. It was regular for the market to be as loud as it was, and the ones that bargained unreasonably earned such shouts on the daily from the people that came to sell their goods.

“Do you really think that I’m going to give you this for 10 silver tokens… just because you don’t want to pay for it full price?”

The store owner shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn’t somebody someone usually would’ve messed with, not with the reputation he held. No one came forward to bargain with him after the incident a few years ago. Lord knows where the man that tried to pick a fight over the true value a clay figurine held ended up. Answer? It truly wasn’t much, but when have such traders told the truth?

Perhaps he is new here, thought the store owner.

“No,” the other man argued. This one was half the size of the seller; the loose clothing he wore doing nothing to hide the defined collarbones that sat right under. Definitely wouldn’t be of much use in a brawl with the burly man.

“I want you to give it to me for free. You’ve kept me waiting long enough, so it seems like a fair trade, don’t you think?’

“You don’t know about me, do you, boy?”

“I don’t think you know about me either, do you?” the lankier man mocked. He crossed his arms over his chest, giving the merchant a look that so very clearly dared him to answer.

The store owner stood up from his chair behind the counter. He wasted no time in slamming his fists against the wooden surface, the force rattling some of the dolls that were on display. By now, there was a little group of people that noticed what was going on, gathering behind the madcap.

“I will not tell you once again. If you want to buy it, there are no bargains. If not, I suggest you leave.”

“How about I tell you? It would… clear things up a bit.”

The man jumped onto the counter, knocking some dolls and knick-knacks out of the way. He leaned in as close as he could to the store owner and grinned.

“I am Captain Kim Taehyung. Don’t be fooled by the term captain, though. I’m not some stuck-up Royal Marine. No, I am what you might call a marauder. A pirate, if you will.”

The store owner widened his eyes in anger. He was about to swing at the pirate when the man jumped off the counter, causing him to miss and hit some metal pans instead.

“What makes you think I’d sell anything of mine to a bloody pirate such as yourself?”

The silence in the crowd felt too loud in the moment. Taehyung snorted under his breath; a smirk plastered across his face. To think that he had come here wanting to blend into the crowd, not become the center of it.

“I hate you lot. Always taking things that don’t belong to you.”

“Well, you’re not being very nice, are you? I’m feeling peak customer dissatisfaction! Will you…” Taehyung grinned at the huffing man. “Give me anything to regain my satisfaction?”

“Naff off, why don’t you!”

And, so he did.

He found himself weaving his way through the thick throng once again, getting lost in between the swarms of late afternoon marketgoers. Taehyung licked the top of his gums, a smile spreading across his lips.

That went well. He was doing great.

•••

Until he wasn’t. Although it wasn’t completely his fault this time.

His crew – yes, he wasn’t just some random pirate, he was most definitely the fiercest Pirate Captain of them all – already knew of his notorious habit of finding trouble even in the simplest of situations. Going to a tavern for a drink wasn’t supposed to be anything new. They were pirates; they practically dwelt in them.

So why was he now laying on the dirt road with a smile on his face and a hand to his bloody nose?

•••

Taehyung threw a hand around one of his crew mates, clinking his mug of rum with a few others.

“We shall enjoy tonight! It’s been harsh sailing from our last location these last few months. I’m getting a feeling that this kingdom has great things in store for us. Including… rum! Cheers!”

His crew hurrahed, drinking to their heart’s content. They called for more and more mugs of alcohol, reveling in the knowledge that their Captain would take care of the costs.

Taehyung stared at his team of misfits as he sipped his drink. He hadn’t really planned on settling in this kingdom for too long, but the sight of his men enjoying themselves for the first time in so long made him want to stay.

Besides, there were other... pressing matters he had to attend to here.

Taehyung got up to head over to a quieter place in the tavern, wanting to be alone. He hadn’t noticed where he was going, bumping right into a tray. He dropped his mug and noticed that the server was about to slip. He threw an arm around her back, a hand holding onto hers.

The girl gaped at him, trying to make sense of what just happened.

“Why, aren’t you lovely?”

Taehyung gazed into her eyes, glancing back and forth between both. She was gorgeous; the mole in the corner of her eye, the lashes that crisscrossed crookedly, the blinks of surprise she took, all of it.

“Sir, do you mind?”

“I don’t really.”

The girl pushed against him, regaining her balance once she dusted off her dress. She stared at the young man nervously. His beige tunic was now coated with a coppery brown shade, and the look on his face was anything but anger.

“I’m very sorry. I should’ve watched where I was going.”

The Captain ran a hand over his shirt, trying to rid of some of the wetness of the rum. He shook his head at her.

“No no. It was my pleasure running into such a beautiful woman.”

The girl sighed silently in relief. His comment – although making her happy that he wasn’t furious – sent her stomach into a frenzy.

“I… would you like help cleaning up?”

“I would love that. Although… I would like something else, too. You see, this tunic isn’t cheap material. And your help, won’t be able to restore it to its former splendor.”

The server watched him continue.

“So… how about something to make up for it? Say, a kiss?”

Taehyung snaked his hand around her waist in the blink of an eye, pulling her close to him. He searched her wide eyes for any kind of refusal.

Until he heard a voice from behind him.

“Hey!”

Taehyung glanced behind him, spotting a young man coming his way. He didn’t look much younger than him, but the muscles that threatened to rip through his tight belted tunic definitely showed who would win in a fight.

“Let her go.”

The pirate loosened his grip on the girl, but didn’t let go. He eyed the man with interest, enjoying the thrill of the situation.

“Jungkook, it’s fi-”

“It isn’t.”

“My, my. The lass has a bodyguard, too. She must be really importa-“

Taehyung felt searing pain in his nose the next second. He was on the floor now, warm blood oozing out of his nose slowly.

“She is. And you do not get to lay your hands on her.”

The boy – Jungkook – glared at the Captain, his eyebrows wrinkling together. He picked the man off the ground and dragged him outside the tavern. He threw him out, making way for his crew to follow behind him.

“Don’t even think about coming back here again.”

With that, he slammed the door to the pub shut, rattling the metal sign that sat atop the awning.

•••

The buccaneer picked himself off the ground, an arm draped around one of his men.

“She was quite the beauty, wasn’t she, Jimin?”

The shorter man nodded; his lips pressed firmly together. One of his hands enveloped the Captain’s while the other laid against his back.

“Definitely worth,” Taehyung spit some blood out of his mouth, and continued, “the pain.”

“But was it worth the damage to your handsome face?”

Taehyung stopped in his tracks, peering down at his helper. “Now that you mention it… I don’t think so, Jimin.”

Jimin turned to face his boss, a half-smile donning his lips.

“You know… there’s a reason I’ve always liked you, Park. You know just how to remind me of the important things in any situation. You’re truly a friend indeed.”

“That certainly means a great deal to me coming from you, Captain. But we should be getting back to your quarters soon.”

Once they started on the path leading to the docks, Taehyung leaned his head back. He stared at the faint blink of the stars. The rum that he’d so joyously downed swirled around his head, blurring his thoughts and distorting his vision. But one thing did remain crystal clear.

He had finally found her.

♛•♛•♛

[author note pt.2] ahhh i hope you liked this! this is so very late, my biggest anticipator, zee, 🥺 but it is finally here. i am currently working on more of this so i do plan to make this a chaptered story. i think we all know by now that im the kind of writer to keep coming back after long periods of disappearing- but i do want to be consistent with this and a few other ideas i have so, you'll be seeing more of me. please look out for the other parts soon ^~^ thank you for reading!

[tagging] @jinnie-forthe-winnie + @taehoneycheeks

a note that i would really appreciate it if you could like/reblog the story if you enjoyed it. take a peek at my masterlist to see if anything piques your interest, too. if you would like to be added to the taglist, please send me an ask or comment under any one of my stories! 🥰

25 notes · View notes

whatapungames · 2 years

Text

GamesCom: This Bed We Made - Lowbirth Games

This Bed We Made is a third-person mystery game in which you play as a maid in a 1950s hotel and snoop around strangers' rooms to uncover their deadly secrets. Discover what links the clients together in this tale of love, heartbreak and murder! (Description taken off of the steam page)

This year I got the chance to attend GamesCom again, and while I was there I had the absolute pleasure of getting a first look at the upcoming game by Lowbirth Games, as well as meet some of the people behind the game, and I've gotta say I am impressed.

At the convention, I got a chance to play the demo, a small segment of the game mainly show casing the games mechanics.

In the demo, you enter the room of one of the hotel guests, and to your horror discover that he has been secretly spying on you, having photographic evidence of your tendency to snoop around other people's belongings, going so far as even using some of the times. You are now left with the choice of prentending you never saw what happened, reporting it or getting rid of the evidence. And this is where the fun began.

What myself, and the friends I was playing with, initially thought was a choice mechanics surrounding the pictures you discovered, turned out to be a core feature of the game, and that is the ability to throw away pretty much EVERYTHING in the hotel room, including personal belongings.

We spent the rest of the demo snooping around the guest room, trying to make sure he had no other evidence linked to our shitty habit, and making sure that he had no personal or otherwise belonging...including the mans razor blade and personal letters. But any important information we found, be it letters or scarps of paper with writing

In the end we were able to open the guest safe and make sure that our character - Sophie - wouldn't be held liable for her snooping...which in hindsight might not be the best thing to cover up.

This segmented also showcased the developers clever ways of relaying information, as well as how well done the puzzles are going to be.

While in this part there wasn't much info surrounding the main story, we did get a look at the guest story - don't worry I am not going to spoil anything. As mentioned the main objective of this part seemed to be to open the guest safe and make sure there was no other evidence relating to the main characters snooping. To do so we had to figure out the code of the safe. We quickly found a little piece of paper with hints to what every number of the code is.

For obvious reasons we did not know the answers to the hints, so we did what our character does best and went snooping. We did this by looking around the room, reading letters and deducing various things from the text. This included learning personal things about the guest, the fact that the guest checked in with a fake name, and that he has been seemingly stalking our main character. None of this was obviously stated and besides the few comments Sophie made about visiting the same locations as the guest did, there was no dialogue to help progress the story.

This also meant that in the end everyone formed their own conclusion surrounding the hotel guest and Sophie. My friends and I agreed this guy was weird, and a stalker and he deserved to have his stuff thrown away, and while snooping is bad, Sophie wasn't harming anyone so we didn't care, she's a maid in hotel, probably earning less than minimum wage, let her have some fun. So despite this segment being maybe 10 - 15 minutes long, we already started to form a bond with Sophie and the world around, something some games have failed to do over the course of hours.

This also leans into the way the puzzle worked, as we really had to read the information given, and think about the hotel guest and who they are. There were sometimes where the items, such as a key needed to open a box with the final clue, were a bit hard to find, but I never found myself frustrated, rather I was excited to learn more and finally open the safe.

Once the we had completely the demo, we got a chance to talk to some of the developers behind this, and it only increased my excitement for the final release, aimed to early next year. The developers are kind, fun people who are truly creating a unique experience, I am pretty sure this game will quickly become one of my favorite once it's released.

If you are interested in the game, you can support the creators by wishlisting the game and keep up with the process on their socials and their website.

#the bed we made #lowbirth games #gamescom #first look #Indie Games #Reviews #Game Review #Indie games Review #Demo #Demo Review #Review Blog #Mystery Game #Story Rich Games

7 notes · View notes

coruscantiscribbler · 2 years

Note

Often, I will skip to the end notes of a fic before I even begin the chapter. It helps put me in the right frame of mind when undertaking that chapter (I approach nothing in my life, casually) When I read this note (see bellow) in your most recent chapter, it was really thought provoking. My response was this is the kind of person I want in my life. It suggests a deeply compassionate, empathetic individual is behind this statement:

I've tried to present the mental anguish that Kallus must be feeling. Knowing that for the sake of his soul he has to help the rebels, but also living among the people he is betraying. Knowing his actions are going to eventually lead to some and perhaps many of them dying.

We can all agree that Imperial stormtroopers were as disposable a lot as used paper towels in Rebels - beginning with Kallus callously kicking a stormtrooper to his death. Do you feel that even as the character (Kallus) began his redemption arc, that the issue of his conscience was not adequately— if at all — explored?

When I first viewed A New Hope, I thought nothing of the combined losses of the destruction of Alderaan/Death Star. I cheered right along with everyone else (about 10 years ago). Watching the same flick last year, I was affected much differently. Do you feel that as a whole, the Star Wars franchise is still lacking in the category of compassion/empathy?

Bonus query: is compassion/empathy an attribute that you consider/imbue in your characters as a practice? (beyond Star Wars)

I appreciate your mission statement with your fic. It resonates with me as someone who has been adjacent to the battlefield & experienced loss. In real life, it never leaves you. Thank you for making it matter to you & the story that you are creating ❤️

Thank you. What an incredible Ask. And also what a lovely compliment. Now hang on because this answer is going to be long.

I do try. Gods know there is enough pain and anguish in the world right now so I try to be gentle with others -- even my characters do I do often put them through hell until I (hopefully) at the end bring them to a safe and peaceful harbor.

I just don't think Kallus kicking the trooper off the pylon in the premier of the show can be winked at. Yes, of course it's television and they wanted to establish he was a baddie and there wasn't a puppy handy for him to kick so the poor trooper got to be the stand in, but I really, really wish they had dealt with it, addressed what a terrible, shitty thing it was for him to do.

I have it haunting Alex, and yes, he partly did it because he was angry at himself and the trooper got the brunt of that anger. But anger is often born out of fear, and that's what I played with. That Alex knew failing to capture a Jedi survivor and potential padawan might earn him a choking from Darth Vader. So he lashes out. I've tried to keep it a running thread through the story because I don't want to just drop it the way the show did. They treat that man clinging desperately for a chance to live as comic throw away, and I've never liked that sort of thing.

I saw A New Hope while I was studying for the bar exam so I was just looking for wonderful escapism but even that first time I had this moment of wondering about those technicians in the funny helmets who were spinning up the weapon. Who were they? Did they have families? Were they true believers? They were clearly educated, did they think it was cool to serve on this technological wonder? Did they ever actually absorb what the Death Star was intended for or were they like the scientists working on the first atomic bombs?

And over the years I've become more and more shaken by sheer magnitude of the deaths. I've see estimates that there were a million and a half people aboard. I find that unlikely. Given the size of the battle station the number was realistically around 300,000 people, but that's still a lot of people. And again, not all of them were Takin and Vader level baddies.

Then there was the destruction of the Lothal Dome with almost all of the troopers and pilots and techs having been recalled to the Dome before Sabine's little explosive gifts blew it to pieces. That's roughly 30,000 people. You may remember that in the show the only individual we see just before its destroyed is Pryce so you don't think about all those other people. But again I kept thinking about the grunt whose job it was to repair the speeder bikes, or the tech in charge of maintenance, the girl in communications who was planning to get married after she mustered out, the cooks. So Kallus is not going to handle that well. He served with these people for four long years. They wouldn't have been faceless, disposable people to him.

Final answer. Yes, I make sure all my characters think carefully about the cost and impact of their actions. In one of my book series my main character keeps a count of how many people he has had to kill in defense of Earth and humanity itself. He never wants it to become commonplace, and he's always wondering about the people left behind because of those deaths.

Death should have meaning and it should certainly have an impact on the person dealing out those deaths.

I do have a character in another book series who is my homage to James Bond, but he also partakes a great deal from T.E. Lawrence as presented in the movies. He is an assassin and he discovers after he is recruited at a very young age that he either feels nothing when he kills or he enjoys it. He is the greyest character I have ever written.

#Star Wars Rebels #alexsandr kallus #Death Star #governor pryce

18 notes · View notes

lynnedwardswrites · 1 year

Text

AITA WIP Intro

It's a tag game! Write an intro for your current wip by writing an AITA style post from the perspective of one of your characters. I'm going to use Creed from The Hare and the Jackal with one of the major tension drivers of the whole book? So strap in for thematic spoilers I guess?

Tagging @lola-theshowgrl and @frostedlemonwriter and anybody else who wants to! :)

CW: sexual betrayal

Am I The Asshole for being interested in another woman?

I (40m) and my partner (35f) have worked together as con men for the last 10+ years, which, maybe 8 years ago or so, started to include cons where I would seduce or divert various women (usually nobles) to earn trust, secrets, or sometimes just access to their homes in the middle of the night. This was my partner's idea when we started and I've always made a point to make sure she's ok with it before using those kinds of tactics on any given job. And she's always been super fine with it. More than fine, even. Like sometimes I get this weird feeling that she pushes me towards those kinds of jobs on purpose? Like she wants me to... get my "needs" met or whatever somewhere else. She's never said those words exactly, but... idk it's like she doesn't actually like having sex with me. Like that aspect of our relationship is a burden to her. And... I mean I get it, cuz she's had a pretty turgid relationship with sexuality because of stuff from before she met me. And I love lots of the other aspects of our relationship. But sometimes I can spend hours touching her in all her favorite ways and her eyes will just kinda glaze over and I'll lose her.

That didn't used to bother me so much until I met this other woman (noble, so I have no idea how old; met her cuz she's the mark for a current job). And she's, like... idk. She just seems... healthy in a way my partner is not. Like she's... got something to give. But I also feel like a complete asshole even saying that because of course my partner has stuff to give and I feel like an entitled little prick even thinking that maybe she should be giving more to me despite, y'know, how hard sex can already be for her. Gods, this is so raising stupid of course I'm the asshole, what am I even saying??? This other woman is probably just using me to get something, just like I've used dozens of people before I met her. Why am I even on this forum.

EDIT: THE OTHER WOMAN TREATS ME DIFFERENTLY, OK??? She treats me like I deserve to be, idk, to be looked after and cared for too??? It's like she looked into my soul and saw how damn hard I try all the time, being as sensitive and patient as I can, and said "now it's your turn for tenderness" and I want what she's offering and I don't know what to do or how to talk to my partner about these feelings or if I even should??? I can't ask my partner to give me more than she's able to!! Do I just have to hide this from her forever? Forget anyone ever made me feel this way??? Because other woman is not somebody I'm ready to upend my life over but I just don't know if I could tell my partner about these feelings without getting ridiculed or yelled at or just hurting her feelings in a really big way that she doesn't deserve. But I also don't know how I'm ever going to be happy again knowing there's this void in my life that isn't being filled.

TLDR I might be unhappy in my relationship and getting some needs met for the first time that I wasn't even aware I had and it's making me consider breaking off my relationship with my long-term partner. AITA?

#aita game #aita #wip #oc:creed #writeblr

2 notes · View notes

blazehedgehog · 1 year

Note

Roughly how many hours do you spend working on your major videos? Have you ever tried to figure out what sort of hourly wages you earn when you divide your YouTube and Patreon revenue by time spent working on content? I get the feeling that it's becoming increasingly difficult to make videos for a living, but I don't have any hard numbers to support that suspicion because creators tend to keep that info close to their chest (for good reason)

It's not really something I can easily measure. This isn't like I'm traveling to an office, clock in, focus on work for four hours, take a 30 minute break, work for four more hours, and then go home.

I try to do that, certainly, but there are also a lot of days where I get distracted for hours at a time with something on twitter, or discord, or whatever. Depending on the job, that could happen at real work, too, but not as much.

Like, when I worked at the thrift store back in Colorado, they actually patted me on the back for being one of the few people they had who took it seriously. Sure, I often took long lunches (45+ minutes) but they didn't seem to care and they were very happy with my work ethic outside of that.

Being your own boss is very difficult and unfortunately I am in a place where my work space is the same space where I do everything else -- I eat here, I sleep here, I relax here, and it can be hard to shift gears between different modes.

So I can't accurately tally up how much work I do in a given day because some days I work for what feels like 14 hours and some days it feels like I only work for a few minutes. Most of that depends on the stage of production -- script writing seems to be the slowest grind these days. Capturing footage goes the fastest. Cutting the final product together is where the longest, most intense hours come in.

I do, however, routinely think about "hourly wages" when it comes to Twitch, because they print "here's how long you streamed vs. how much you earned" in pretty black and white terms. Hopefully I don't sabotage anything by saying this (I know Youtube Networks don't like you sharing earnings analytics), but the two Twitch streams I did for Halloween, I streamed just under 6 hours and made about $9. That's, like, what, $1.50 an hour? Not great.

(But it was also totally impromptu, super low key, and in the middle of the night. More "for fun." I didn't even break 10 viewers for most of it.)

I will say, though, bare minimum, this has been one of the more profitable years for me on Youtube. But I need to do better.

Which natureally leads me to wonder what the purpose of this ask is.

As my Patreon has grown over the last couple months, and I've declared I'm finally making enough from it to cover my food groceries, I've had people ask how that's possible because I'd need more money for rent and things like that. Which is true! I cannot cover rent yet. I pay what I can when I can to my brother for the room I am staying in currently and I keep my fingers crossed that the hammer doesn't drop.

I have sat around and had a lot of panic attacks whether or not I can make this work. Doubts and questioning whether I can get things up high enough fast enough to make a dent in... I dunno, life, I guess. I don't need people drilling me about it, because I'm already drilling myself every second of every day.

For now, as long as the number keeps going up instead of down, I am going to close my eyes and pray for the best.

(Further reading beyond this point becomes very serious and heavy.)

To some extent, this is what my Mom wanted. When she went in to the hospital last year and her leg mysteriously broke, she came here to live at my brother's. Same room I'm in now. And I had this sense that even if she recovered, she may never drive again, she may never walk again, so by the end of that second or third week we sat down and had a loooong talk, because it was clear that no matter what else happened, there was about to be a shift in the dynamic.

So we cleared the air. There was a lot of crying. Up to that point, she had still acted like The Mom. She did the cooking, she did (some of) the cleaning, she managed all the finances, she was the head of the household. I'd offer to cook dinner and she'd either refuse, or only let me cook for myself only. Like, there would be times where she'd be full on asleep on the couch or whatever, and if she heard me trying to cook, she'd get up and try to shoo me out of the kitchen so she could fix dinner for us.

But after her leg broke, she was traumatized. She'd been suffering from very bad sciatica (back pain) for a long time, and every time she'd go to the hospital, they would brush her off and push her out the door. The circumstances in which her leg broke were horrible. She told us time and time again she begged them to go easy on her because her leg hurt before it broke, likely due to weak bones. After it broke, they refused to believe her. I think she said they left her laying in bed in the worst pain of her life for hours because they didn't think her femur actually broke. I actually saw her during this time and she was writhing in her hospital bed, barely coherent. It was awful.

That hurt her mentally as much as physically. My strong, independent, "I'll do it MYSELF" mother was suddenly frail and timid and prone to crying over something as small as me forgetting to make her a cup of coffee.

So even though it was a months and months and months before we knew she was actually just dying of cancer, I knew we had to sort things out and shift the balance of power. Even if she made a recovery, nothing would ever be the same again.

And when I brought up the prospect of taking Youtube more seriously, she was all for it. She said that "I always told everybody you were going to be famous some day."

My impostor syndrome never really rationalized that. In that moment, and especially now in retrospect, I believed her, but prior to that moment, all the praise she had given me over the years smashed in to a brick wall and ceased to exist. But it was her, when I'd have my one video a year take off, tell me about the "serious money" I could be making if I applied myself (which I never did, because she was my safety net and my comfort zone.)

And then I think about all the times she tried to tell me how smart I was, and about how, when I was 14 years old, there was some manager from IBM that "wanted to talk to me" because I had made a game in Clickteam Fusion over a weekend to sell at a craft fair she was attending.

Or how she'd push me to give out business cards to people who would compliment me on my Redbubble shirt designs when I'd wear them out in public. She always wanted me to hustle and I never had the drive or the energy for that.

I am trying to summon the energy up for that now. And it's hard, but at least I'm trying. Am I trying hard enough? Shit, I don't know. Maybe ask all the sleep I've lost in the last three months. I used to be the kind of guy who would zonk out and fall asleep within two minutes of my head touching the pillow, but now I routinely lay in bed for close to an hour, wondering and worrying if I can make this work.

As long as the number keeps going up instead of down, I am going to close my eyes and pray for the best.

I would like to end this saying that I'm pretty sure you aren't actually drilling me or anything like that. Honestly, no need to apologize. I always expect the worst from these asks and nobody is ever really that mean, outside of like... what probably amounts to one guy.

You're fine. And hopefully I'll be fine.

#questions #Anonymous #youtube #personal #my mom

6 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 4 days

Note

SAM MY LOVE IM BACK!!!My feedback is going to a bit jumbled so i'm sorry if none of it makes sense lol

OKAY SO I LOVED DING ROUND 3!!!!! Ngl I was a tad bit frustrated with Harry in this one but only because my guy is just a bit impatient when it comes to her lol And I know he means NO harm when asking her about what happened the night of her date and why she ended up in the classes like he truly just CARES about her so I get him! Plus with knowing his backstory of how he has always been a “protector” and his whole deal with how he processes his own emotions, it makes sense his behavior! But Cupcake is also going through it and it’s clear that they are on opposite spectrums on how they deal with things. AND it is something very hard to process no matter the outcome of it and it’s harder to say it out loud because it feels like it makes it ‘real’ if that makes sense lol. Anyways TELL ME WHY THAT GROSS MAN IS AT HER BAKERY?!?! I WANT TO SCREAM AND SCARE HIM AWAY FROM HER!!! BUT I'm glad that this was a nice way to lead Harry and Cupcake to have their own vulnerable moments! BUT AHHHH I LOVED IT SAM! YOU DID GREAT AS ALWAYS!!

NOW THE NEIGHBORS EXTRA 😭I LOVE RORY SO MUCH😭I think last month or so (i have no concept of time anymore) I re-read the whole story and extras in one go… I have no idea why my brain does this but it was worth it lol ANYWAYS ugh i loved it! I do love that bit of angst and once again it makes sense for Harry to feel like that! Was it the best way to react, not really but given the circumstances it was kinda the only option aside from talking it out lol But I really was NOT worried because they are END GAME! It was so cute! I just love them so much! But that's nothing surprising since I love everything you put out lol

Now my reasoning for my slight disappearance lol I have had two midterms this week and basically from now until the end of the quarter it’s mainly exams! I think I will end somewhere in June, I'm starting week 5 out of 10 next week! And I fear I will be taking summer courses :( I really fucked up my second year so that’s kinda why I need to take some courses in order to graduate on time lol . But I've only had a few TAs where I personally have been attracted to which have all been from my psyc courses lol and Ugh I MISS MY HOT PROFESSOR 😭 I LONG for that man and its pathetic😭 and literally if you did call me an idiot, I would NOT blame you because I am one the majority of the time 😂 oh I wanted to be on my knees when he gave his lecture lol

And it really was nice! I got a limited edition Paramore/David Byrne vinyl and Lauefy’s A night at the symphony vinyl! And some other classical records! My main reason for waking up early was to get a Paramore poster and Sam when I tell you I CALLED all the stores within my city/county and only ONE had them, I wanted to cry! I didn't get it because the line was HUGE and the moment I found out they ran out I wanted to jump off a building 😀 But overall i had a nice time! And ooo what color is your record?

I totally get the shopping part! I too have my fair share of body image issues so I don’t blame you for feeling like that. But I'm glad you were able to find some clothes that you feel at least okay in! I'm sure you’ll look lovely in your choices! And I'm glad you had a nice break! You for sure have earned that little break! And don’t ever feel bad about not staying on top of your writing schedule, it’s a BUSY season for high schoolers and if you're helping with senior activities it’s so stressful! So be kind on yourself and if you need to miss a day or a few weeks of posting that’s okay💗

Hope you had a nice week back! I miss you! Hope you have a lovely weekend! Love you!!!-💜

So glad you liked Ding and Neighbors! I was a bit worried about Neighbors--I struggle with angsty stuff sometimes but I guess maybe it's the whole it's coming from my brain thing again. Maybe I'm biased but I love Ding a lot 😭 I'm really excited about it (so excited that I may have written the last part before parts 4, 5, and 6 lol)

ANYWAY.

OMG JUNNNNNEEEEE?! Ma'am I'm so sorry that seems so far away--I'm sure you'll crush it and it will be here before you know it (I'm VERY excited for June--I can't last much longer in my classroom I'm going out of my mind. This week felt endless and exhausting and I keep thinking every week is going to get better, less tiring and they're just NOT. Idk what the problem is.) I miss your hot professor for you 😭 I'm glad you have hot TAs you can sub in for him--def not the same but will help for the next five weeks.

There are no wrong paths in college. If you take extra time (or have to take summer classes) it's where you're supposed to be and it's not a big deal. You'll get it done and do fantastic 💕

So cool about your records! I love that for you! It's so funny you called stores for a poster 😭 (Fun fact: I HATE phone calls. Like an OBNOXIOUS irrational fear) I'm sorry you didn't get it, I hope you can find it at some point in time! I'm glad it was enjoyable overall and you got the ones you wanted. My one lonely record is bright yellow and kinda see through--it's really pretty! I'm not sure why I'm surprised. Everything Harry does is pretty.

Honestly, I think I will def be missing a few posting dates. I don't want to, but I think it's inevitable. I can't wait for summer 😭

No plans for this weekend! Hopefully it will be relaxing but I'm afraid I'll be filling it up with a million things I need to get done that didn't get done during the week. I plan on making sure I read and go for a walk on both days so as long as I do that I think it will be okay--and of course write Ding Part 4. (I also need to fold my laundry and vacuum but those are my fave chores). I hope you have a fun weekend planned--you deserve it after exams and not getting your poster 💕

Love you, bestie!!!!

xoxo

#💜#neighbors #ding

0 notes

clockworksteel · 29 days

Text

Well, quarter of the way through the year. Might as well review how the goals are doing.

Overall, despite the lack of any notable bad events, it was kinda a rough start. Too many appointments, perhaps. There's my housemate's ongoing medical issues (probably some sort of appointment every 1-2 weeks on average so far this year, plus trips to the pharmacy), my vehicle safety inspection came due in February, did taxes, had my own doctor appointment, there were dentist appointments that didn't actually happen, plus of course the worse end of daylight savings happens in the first quarter.

Anyway, the goals:

1: Have some sort of exercise habit again

Honestly, nothing to comment on here. I haven't even made plans.

2: Take care of at least one longstanding thing in the house

I put the auto-closer on the back door, although without the chain that it kinda also needs to deal with the wind. Still, reasonable progress on an unambitious goal. Should've probably made it, like, 2-3 tasks. I'd like to get the water heater replaced in the next few months.

3: Clear the stacks of papers from my desk

I've done a couple sessions of cleaning the papers a little, just looking through for anything that was an obvious trash/shred. Mail has come in too, but I think the stacks are overall lower. Still, need to step it up.

4: Make some more progress on gender stuff

Not much concrete progress here. I haven't really sat down and just thought about things at all. (Also there's been a thing that's been bothering me about my parents and religion since my last visit on Christmas break which has kinda consumed my idle thoughts a bit. May need to try to put it all into words at some point.)

Still, I've made notes of various stray thoughts, events, and dreams as relevant. That's resulted in 15 distinct notes so far this year. I won't be sharing all of them in detail.

I think the most meaningful one is that, after earning the Challenge Enthusiasts goal "Void Given Focus" I thought that would be really cool as a gender. And you know what? When I'm gaming, that's what I am. I don't think it applies when not gaming though. So I guess that's just the "Clyceer" gender. They/them pronouns for that still.

The other ones are some variation on "sure wish I was trans", notes about dreams, and also I have another dress now.

5: Earn at least 100 more Challenge Enthusiasts points

I thought this was going to be a whole-year goal, I already have earned 110 points. Perhaps my neglect of other things hasn't entirely been due to exhaustion, but also a lot of these were just done on my weekly Saturday streams.

I'll probably keep going for more points, but may slow down the off-camera stuff. My full notes also include the start times, but here's just the points.

Jan 23: Ittle Dew got a 5 point objective that I'd already completed (won't count for goal, but is a point gain, technically noticed on Jan 29)

Feb 4: Achieved Lone Fungus "Spores and Spells" objective (10 points)

Feb 5: Achieved the Blasphemous' Miracle of Penance (10 points)

Feb 7: Achieved FTL's Federation Victory (15 points)

Feb 10: Achieved Hollow Knight's Void Given Focus (30 points)

Mar 2: Achieved Patch Quest's Monster Hunter (5 points)

Mar 9: Achieved Haiku, the Robot's Anti-Corruption Protocol (15 points)

Mar 23: Achieved ZeroRanger Grapefruit Smasher (15 points)

Mar 23: Cyber Hook's Retrowave Traceur (10 points, and my first First Person points) Full Challenge Enthusiasts profile: https://cedb.me/user/9f1f4644-b3d3-40b7-a348-fb9ce59222c4

6: Finish Factorio and at least one other game that I haven't played in over 4 months

Yeah, the other video game-related goal is done already too. Should probably throw in Yooka-Laylee and the Impossible Lair sometime this year. It's a Challenge Enthusiasts goal, and all I need to do is beat the titular Impossible Lair with the completed bee shield.

Jan 18: Finished Hue, which hadn't been played since May 27 2023

Jan 25: Finished Factorio

Feb 18: Started Psychonauts 2: I'd never started it, but bought it long ago enough that I'm writing it. Probably will take a while because it's a video playthrough, but is basically guaranteed to finish now.

Unrelated to any start of year goal, I've also taken up interest in the Super Mario Maker Team 0%, and have started helping out with Super Mario Maker 2. I've beaten 13 levels from 2020 so far this year. Not any that were particularly impressive, but cleaning up the mere Expert levels and kinda garbage Super Expert levels frees up time for the good players to grind the truly tough ones.

#clockworkgoals #clockwork gender

0 notes

racingtoaredlight · 9 months

Text

HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE

LINK

I have found myself crying in public multiple times this summer, standing next to strangers who were also crying in public. I do not mean to suggest we were welling up or misty-eyed or otherwise feeling our feelings with some kind of dignity. We were not. We were properly crying, the sniffling and sobbing type, absolutely overwhelmed with joy.

I've cried after listening to music. Mahler's 9th is a piece that I think every person who loves music will be sobbing at by the end...it's essentially an epic musical poem about the composer's own death. Steely Dan's "Charlie Freak" is a song about reuniting with a friend who's a junkie, and who goes on to sell his last remaining possession for the fix that'll kill him. That shit hits deep.

Lets see what the author's referring to.

All of these tearful gatherings have been concerts. I wept when Taylor Swift played “The Archer” at her Eras Tour in a 60,000-person stadium. I bawled my eyes out when Joni Mitchell took the stage at the Gorge Amphitheater in Washington State for her first announced concert in more than two decades, as the sun set behind a venue overlooking the Columbia River. I was overcome again watching a fan cry-sing into Phoebe Bridgers’ shoulder onstage during a boygenius show.

Perhaps you’ve experienced this yourself, or seen evidence of it on your social media feeds: the videos, for example, of teary-eyed crowds with hands on their hearts as Ms. Swift sings, “It’s been a long time coming.” The Eras Tour, her first tour since 2018 and a sprawling, three-hour spectacle highlighting a 44-song set list, is simply the biggest and most extravagant of the summer’s great attractions. Beyoncé and Drake are also touring, each after a five-year hiatus. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band are back on the road for the first time since 2017. The Cure is touring. Ed Sheeran is touring. Luke Combs, with his hit cover of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car,” is touring. Morgan Wallen, with his No. 1 album, is touring. Boygenius, the supergroup that comprises the singer-songwriters Julien Baker, Lucy Dacus and Phoebe Bridgers, is touring. The only disappointment of the summer for fans so far is that Madonna’s long-anticipated Celebration Tour, a career retrospective, was postponed because of a last-minute health crisis. (It’s now scheduled to start in Europe in October.)

This is a rundown of the absolute shittiest pop music that exists.

I read this and I immediately think "I bet this guy jacks off to how many Twitter followers he has." This is why gatekeepers exist. Because if you don't have some socially retarded asshole doing this...

...then you get the legitimate retards running roughshod over the entire artistic landscape.

I can...and have...given you reason after reason after reason why Beyonce is not a good singer in any way, and at this point in her career is almost entirely reliant on studio tricks to make her music passable. Can you give me a reason not tied to popularity for why her music is good?

Likely not. And why is this important? Lets keep reading because, no, there obviously won't be something that gives spencer a heart attack in the next quote...

Back in March, a Live Nation executive told Bloomberg that his company was seeing “incredible demand” for live music — which now seems almost comically understated. Ms. Swift’s tour alone is on pace to earn over a billion dollars...

I know we don't live in a just world. In a just world, Taylor Swift would've been thoroughly ignored at an open mic night in Duluth, would get married, have a few kids, pop a few SSRI's per day, and her cheap guitar would collect dust.

Instead A SINGLE TOUR is on pace to earn over a billion dollars.

One tour. A billion dollars.

I like to use the Cleveland Orchestra's annual budget as a good barometer because...a) they're a top 10 world orchestra, and b) it's nice and neat around $50mm per year. For the whole orchestra...musicians, staff, travel expenses, real estate expenses, taxes, all that shit.

This one tour of a chick that wouldn't know what a secondary dominant was if you pointed it out in a theory book is EARNING TWENTY YEARS OF THE CLEVELAND ORCHESTRA'S EXISTENCE IN A SINGLE YEAR'S TOUR.

Spare me your bullshit about popularity and "listening to classical music doesn't get you laid" like you're all hitting the clubs and grinding up. She makes shit music, and fuckers around the goddamned world are lining up for it.

When a fire loses oxygen, it's gone. Money is oxygen.

Of course, part of the reason for these record-breaking grosses is record-breaking ticket prices. While the average ticket price for the Bruce Springsteen tour is an already hefty $250, thanks to so-called dynamic pricing, tickets have been on sale for as much as $5,000. And audiences — at least those who are able — seem willing to pay the extraordinary tab. No doubt fueled by the relative scarcity of big-name acts over several years, the concert has now achieved a new status. It’s no longer a casual entertainment decision, like a movie or a baseball game, to fill a summer evening. Instead, it’s more like a summer vacation: something you plan for, save for and splurge on, chasing the promise of a lifelong transcendent memory.

Idiots spend lots of money on stupid shit. Movie at 11.

With prices and expectations this high, performers understand it’s not enough to come onstage and sing a few songs. You have to be spectacular. Beyoncé’s tour this summer boasts a giant metallic tank and robot arms, and Ms. Swift’s set is like a traveling Vegas production.

I.e. things that are not music.

You know who doesn't need shit like robot arms and fireworks and bullshit like this? Musicians who are good at music.

youtube

Oh, and lets be doubly honest...people aren't going to see the music, they're going for social status. This Dead and Company shit might as well be renamed Dead and Cosplay...because anyone who was around during their heyday looks at whats going on now with fucking disgust.

Those with the means who are persistent and lucky enough might just snag a ticket. For everyone else, there’s social media — and there’s been plenty this summer for online audiences to enjoy. TikTok exploded in popularity when everyone was confined indoors, so this is the first summer when TikTok’s viral potential has fully collided with an abundance of live music events. The prospect of thousands of cameras fixed on a performer’s micro-expressions transforms each show into a potential melodrama — and buoys the possibility that it might be interrupted by a rowdy onlooker. Online you can watch Pink’s puzzled reaction when someone apparently throws their parent’s ashes onstage, or the time a fan threw a vape to Drake onstage, presumably hoping he might smoke it. Another concertgoer foolishly threw a drink on Cardi B — who threw the mic right back.

Idiots being the center of attention is the theme of this post, so why should we be surprised when it happens? The bolded part is what I want to focus on though.

Here's a news segment with the unedited video of the incident. Start at 0:08.

youtube

Now here's the thing...I grew up in an era where Milli Vanilli were absolutely ripped to shreds because of their lip syncing incident. Same with Ashlee Simpson on SNL.

In a few short years, a performer can THROW HER MIC WHILE HER VOCAL TRACK CONTINUES TO PLAY, and nobody will say a goddamned thing about it. That's how far we've fallen. That's how low our fucking standards have become. We can't even be bothered to ask our MUSICIANS to actually MUSIC anymore...it's all about the fucking spectacle. The show. The bullshit.

The fact that this isn't still being talked about on Twitter as one of the biggest musical scandals of recent vintage is beyond me. Forget the trash behavior from Cardi B...that's not what pisses me off...it's the fact that she can't even pull off the easiest possible shit in the world live, and nobody cares.

Perhaps chasing a social media moment, artists are getting interactive with the crowds: Everyone from Harry Styles to Shania Twain is willing to lend a hand with gender reveals and coming-out announcements. Swifties have turned the Eras Tour into a must-watch drama, as the extremely online fandom has developed rituals around show nights, including “surprise song o’clock,” the point in the show where Ms. Swift plays two songs acoustically that are not on the original set list. Online fans tune in to hundreds of live streams of surprise song o’clock on TikTok and Instagram, temporarily joining the crowds to revel.

All the available online theatricality hasn’t kept people away from big tours, though — if anything, it seems to have upped the urgency of attending in person. It’s not just a concert anymore, it’s the chance to witness a viral moment that everyone will be talking about online. You might even be the one to post it.

Why in the fuck would you encourage this type of shit?

Or, as I’ve experienced on multiple occasions, it’s a chance to step outside of life and feel overwhelmed in the best possible way. For all the extravagance of this year’s tours, I think our concert summer is being powered by a simpler idea: a reminder of just how good it feels to be in the presence of one another once again. At Ms. Swift’s concerts, fans bring dozens of friendship bracelets to exchange. Before the boygenius show, a fan created a TikTok group to help coordinate a secret project to surprise the band with a rainbow light display for Pride.

What the fuck have we become?

Halfway through the set at the Joni Mitchell concert, thousands of people turned their cellphone lights on while swaying to “Shine,” to create a moment that’s become familiar to anyone who has regularly attended concerts in recent years. But Mitchell, who has rarely performed since the ubiquity of cellphones, was deeply moved. “You’re stardust, and golden,” she told the audience (paraphrasing her song “Woodstock”). “You look like a fallen constellation.” Behind me, one woman remarked to her friend, “How can I ever take this cellphone light thing for granted ever again?” Her friend replied, in a tearful voice, “Honestly, how can we ever take any of this for granted ever again?”

"How can we take any of this for granted ever again?"

You likely live in a decent cized city or town or whatever. There are probably local musicians in this city that kick ass and put on an awesome show. Have you seen any of those musicians?

Likely not on any sustainable level, based on who I've been networking with. Because the local music scenes in just about every city...including cities like Austin and Nashville and NYC and SF...are smoldering shells of what they used to be. Wanna know why?

Because they've been taken for granted.

You know why shitty piped in music has replaced professional musicians at resataurants, clubs, etc? Because they've been taken for granted. You know why there fewer and fewer bars that have live music? Because they've been taken for granted. You know DJ's have replaced bands at weddings? Because they've been taken for granted. You know why there aren't any bands in your city playing original music anymore? Because they've been taken for granted. You know why orchestras across the globe are shuttering because of lack of funds? Because they've been taken for granted. You know why jazz is dead? Well that's jazz's fault, because it took itself for granted.

For "cellphone light things."

Look at the meme that festival posters have become in the comments. It's always "make fun of the two headlining acts, say 'who?' for everyone else." And I'm not saying this as it's a tired joke or it isn't funny...just that how many fucking festivals have we done this for in the past year?!?

What we're watching is the process of rot and decay. I certainly don't find it funny, but I was raised in a cynical household and have felt this way about popular music going back to grade school.

Wait...you know what? Lets shift gears abrupty and take a look at some other Joni Mitchell Quotes real quick...

“I heard someone from the music business saying they are no longer looking for talent, they want people with a certain look and a willingness to cooperate.”

“My heart is broken in the face of the stupidity of my species.”

“This is a nation that has lost the ability to be self-critical, and that makes a lie out of the freedoms.”

That last one...damn...that could have replaced my entire screed.

I'm just so sick and tired of this fucking bullshit.

#Youtube

0 notes

Last Seen Blogs