#Medic keeps finding them in random places in piles

[wolfram-but-art]

omg human archimedes no friggin way

[btswrckd]

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.”

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“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.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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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.  

[vintagegirl01]

I have a feeling we aren’t in the 21st century anymore! (Chapter 3)

AU Young Leto Atreides x fem reader

Part 1 :

Part 2:

Summary: You find yourself in a time and place you aren’t familiar with. Now trying to find your way home, you come across a man unlike any other.

A/N: The reader’s dialogue is in pink and Leto’s is in blue. Also, thoughts will be italicized and any other speaking parts will be in a different color.

“What do you mean you lost her”?

“We’re saying that when we came back to tend to her after talking to you, she was no longer there.”

“Why wasn’t anyone watching her”?

“Because you told us to come outside to talk to you”.

“Yet I’d expect that one or two of you would have stayed inside with her”, he says, a bit annoyed.

The medics look at him, wondering what he’ll say.

“Never mind, I’ll find her myself. She shouldn’t be that far.”

The medics are in shock and one of them asks.

“Your grace…why not have your guards look for her?”

“Because I don’t want to scare her and like I said, she shouldn’t have gotten that far. Especially with her recovering from her fainting spell.”

He then leaves the room with some confused and smirking medics.

“How much do you want to bet he has a crush on her?”

_________________________________________

Meanwhile…

You are still trying to find a way out of this palace. Luckily, you were able to change out of your hospital gown as you found an ripped, army green dress lying around.

I can’t believe how much loose clothes are everywhere.

After placing the hood over your head, you start to slowly walk around the empty hall. From what you can gather, this area must not be used often due to the amount of cobwebs, dust, and lack of light in the room.

Continuing to walk around, you then come across a large, brown wooden door. You push the door gently and walk in.

You enter the mysterious door, closing the door behind you. This room looks to be an office of some kind as you notice the piles of documents and scrolls on the desk.

Walking behind the desk, you take a look at the bookshelf behind it. Curiosity getting the best of you, you grab a random book from the shelf and begin reading through it.

Perhaps I will gain some insight about how I can get home.

As you begin to read through the book, you are in shock about what you find out. That humanity becomes so bad that they not only had to leave earth but that rulers rely on politics and prophecies to keep people in check.

And I thought we had it bad back in the present.

Though you knew things weren’t perfect, you’d never thought humanity would get like this. In fact, you always hoped you would play some kind of role in it getting better.

You place the book back on the shelf. Despite what you have found out, you vow that when you get home you will do something to improve the world to hopefully avoid this future.

_________________________________________

Unbeknownst to you, Leto continues searching for you. Although it isn’t until he decides to head to the office to go get something that he is pleased to have run into you quite literally as the way bump into him causes you to fall on top of him. Expecting to meet angry eyes, you are surprised to see that his deep, brown eyes are filled with amusement at the current position you are in. Almost as if he was happy to be in this predicament. Nevertheless, you do your best to get off of him so that he can be able to get up from off the floor.

As Leto gets up from the floor, he notices that you are still sitting on the floor. Though he notices that the gown from the healers you wore earlier is now replaced with a green dress. Rather than focus on how the material clings to your figure perfectly, Leto puts his right hand out in front of you in the hopes that you’ll take it.

“I think it would be best if we took the time to be honest with each other, wouldn’t you think?”

You smile, placing your hand into his own.

A/N #2: I know the gif doesn’t match with reader being on the floor but I truly liked the gentleness of this and what I’d expect Leto would be like. Also, I’m sorry this chapter took a bit longer to put out. Had this sitting in my drafts for a while but had no idea if I should even bother posting it as I had no idea how well received the previous two chapters would be, so thank you all for your patience!

Tags:

@autismsupermusicalassassian

@gills-lounge

@oscarisaac2099

[bewitchingivy]

Pick A Card: Blessings Wait For You in 2023

*plays mixtape#3 by skz* ah, it's so good to hear an old comfort song <3 HI, GUYS! Happy new year! I'm honestly so confident that 2023 has a lot of amazing things for us to offer. In this reading, we'll be uncovering what those blessings are :)

methods used in this reading: intuition, with a little bit of tarot and shufflemancy.

MASTERLIST

࿐ DISCLAIMERS:

Tarot or any forms of divination is not set in stone. It’s not your only future, but a probable one with the current energy you have right now. If a reading doesn’t resonate, simply let it fly away and shift your energy. Because you can change your reality, and you have the undeniable power to do so.

Please keep in mind that my readings are for entertainment, positive, or inspirational purposes only. Please don’t take them as a professional or medical advice. Any actions or decisions taken are your responsibility.

The images I use in my blog are not mine unless I say so. The pictures belong to their respectful owners.

Now choose one or more of these piles!

one;

Hello, dear person who chose pile one! Right away, I can see here that this year you will meet new people who are beneficial for your wellbeing and growth. If you've been manifesting your soul family/tribe, etc, you can expect that you will meet them this year. I don't necessarily do timings, but I feel like the month of May or June may be significant. It can be someone's birth month, or perhaps the month when you'll meet these people. For some of you, this could be a romantic soulmate, if you don't believe in that, then let's just say that this person will be very significant in your life. Another message I'm hearing is that you could meet these people through other friends or an event, gathering, etc. Let's be honest, your relationships this year is gonna improve very much. You could also be travelling this year, or maybe even move places/a different country. For some of you, I'm seeing a tropical country. Beaches can be significant. People, let's be honest, there will always be problems in life, it's inevitable. But this year, for you, the current problems, obstacles, adversities that you're facing right now? You will find ways to fix them, to resolve them this year. Whatever problems you have right now, it's going to be fixed. Like for example, if one's been looking for money to pay off their debt, they're going to find that money. I don't know but it's definitely not just one certain problem, but more like you're overall life this year is going to drastically glow up. Wow, I feel so happy for all of you <33 You deserve it, guys! I just saw 444, you could be seeing that more frequently. You guys may have been through a lot in 2022, but in 2023, you are blessed with courage and strength to move through this year. Yep, the nine of cups literally came up to confirm all that. A lot of success, whatever that means for you, joy, contentment, abundance, and gratitude towards God and the Universe. This is such a lovely reading, oh my gosh, I feel so, so much warmth in me right now. Oh, and if I hadn't mentioned this yet, if you're currently manifesting a romantic relationship right now, then expect that you won't be single anymore this year, heh :) And guys, for some of you, I'm definitely getting a message from one of your spirit guides right now that you need to start letting go of what's no longer serving you right now. I bet you know what it is. They want you to know that you already have what you need inside you, all you need to do is to start acting RIGHT NOW. I'm getting that this spirit guide of yours is someone who has very strong feminine energy. They could be an ancestor or a loved one who passed on. Random channeled signs/messages: airplanes, Damien, trickery, hedge garden, 111, make your way, grounded, a letter from someone. Shufflemancy; Glitch by Taylor Swift, Adore You by Maisie Peters, Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine, Long Live by Taylor Swift, Clouds by Before You Exit.

Thank you for reading and take care of yourselves. Sending much love your way <3 Have a blessed 2023! :)

Any thoughts on this reading? Leave a feedback!

— Ivy

two;

Hello, beautiful people! If you've chosen the second pile, then read away! First thing that I am getting that whatever your manifesting right now, you're going to receive this year. For some of you, whatever seeds you planted last year, it's going to grow this year and you're going to reap the rewards. You have been working hard, and the Universe sees all your efforts even if nobody did, and you will be blessed. I specifically heard the quote, "Work in silence and let your successes be the noise." If you have been doing that since 2022, then people are going to be definitely, like, surprise and in awe of your success this year. They definitely did not see that coming. But if you still haven't yet, the Universe is advising you to do that this year. You don't need anyone to see or know that you are working hard, you don't need to tell anyone what you're working or manifesting, surprise them with the results. For some people, I am seeing that they're going to be married this year (congratulations btw <3), and for some, you may start a loving family. For women and if they want to, I see pregnancy. Oh, and for those who are starting a family, keep in mind that it may not necessarily be with children. It can be starting a family with just you and your partner, and/or a fur friend or any animal companion. That could be a message for some of you who may want to have a pet, you're going to have one this year <3 Another message that I'm getting is that you're going to meet someone who is going to teach valuable knowledge, this could be a teacher or whatever. Oh, okay I get it, I'm hearing that this person is going to help you with your endeavors. That knowledge that they're going to share with you? It's going to be very beneficial for you, it's going to help you acquire new skills, for some of you. This can apply in a spiritual sense too. But I definitely see that this person might be older than you and they're going to offer you something to help you in life. The relationship I'm getting with this person is definitely like a teacher and a student. Rest assured though that these new skills and knowledge that you'll learn this year is going to lead you to much wealth and abundance in the future. I saw 333, that may be a significant sign for you. Random channeled signs/messages:full moon, romance, vintage, fly high, Cruella (2021 film), sphynx cat, take another chance, your love is unconditional, step towards the future, be positive, the wait is over, 555, color green, dove, psychic gifts. Shufflemancy; Matter of Time by Vanessa Carlton, Lost Stars by Adam Levine, Two by Sleeping At Last, Our Song by Taylor Swift, Smile by Valerie June.

Thank you for reading and take care of yourselves. Sending much love your way <3 Have a blessed 2023! :)

Any thoughts on this reading? Leave a feedback!

— Ivy

three;

Hi there, lovely person! Thank you for choosing pile three. Now let's get on with it! I don't know about you, but I'm getting heavy dreamy vibes from you. Like slow and ethereal. Beautiful. Anyways! Wow, every pile here I've read are getting abundance. And you're no exception. The Empress came out, so there's wealth and growth this year for you. Remember that wealth can mean other than money too, there's wealth in health, wisdom, happiness, etc. I'm also hearing that right now that your guides are advising you to be thankful for what you have right now, and you will be given more. One thing that I'm seeing particularly blessed for you this year is your creativity. Whatever you create with that beautiful mind of yours, you're going to create amazing things this year. Your ideas are definitely going to be sooo good. Oh, and if you ever have any ideas that you have for this year, don't shrug them off like they're nothing. The Universe is telling you to go after them. And don't doubt these ideas, because these ideas are going to open opportunities and bring blessings into your life! So keep that in mind, will ya? Don't. You. Dare. Doubt. Them. Omg, there's something so significant about spirituality and psychic abilities here. I'm getting a straightforward message here that your spiritual gifts are going to significantly improve or something like that this year. You're going to learn a lot about it, and there's so much wisdom here coming for you, and that's honestly amazing. Also, I'm getting like the feeling of heaviness here in my throat and heart right now, this could be that your heart and/or throat chakra is blocked right now by something, and you might need to let this certain thing go and heal from it in order for these to open up again. People who chose pile three, I'm not going to lie to you, but by the end of 2023, you're not going to be the same person when you started this year. There's a drastic change I'm seeing for you, mentally and spiritually. But it's all for the better. It's like a mental and spiritual glow up, if that's what you wanna call it. You'll become wiser. Wow, this is such a beautiful energy :') Honestly, hearing this is making me so proud of ya'll <3 Another message I'm getting is that for some of you, especially with what I stated earlier about ideas, it's not going to be easy at the start. But you will go through all of it. But you're going to be happy. I feel like this is going to be related to what you love doing. Oh! That's another message; whatever you love doing, like whatever it is, the Universe is saying to you to keep doing it. Or if you still haven't started doing it, then go do it! Lastly, I'm seeing a lot of change coming for you this year :) Random channeled signs/messages: art; specifically painting, an old tree, snow, countryside, a reptile pet, multitasking, don't doubt your abilities, a girl with short hair smiling at you, in dreams, don't forget to rest. Shufflemancy; Neverland by Zendaya, How Did You Love by Shinedown, Come Back…Be Here by Taylor Swift, I'm Like A Bird by Nelly Furtado, A New Kind of Love by Frou Frou.

Thank you for reading and take care of yourselves. Sending much love your way <3 Have a blessed 2023! :)

Any thoughts on this reading? Leave a feedback!

— Ivy

[moonlightguidesky]

Chapter 6.5: A friend and Work

After checking to see there was no one around to give the others a hard time he gives them a hand signal to the guys below and on roofs that he's in and to start up the plan. They give their own signals to show that they are ready.

He gets to around more closely as bags and crates filled the room up, all either with labels or random stuff on top of them. The smell of gunpowder and rotting wood filling his nose, walking around the room for a second before grabbing the door handle and checking his surrounding area, it was empty of people.

There are two floors to this place, he needed to hit one room on the top floor and another on the first floor. Both with specific thing the client wanted, a person and a file of a buyer.

One would think that would be impossible, taking a whole person without being detected by a guarded building.

However, there was one thing these three always made sure for whatever job they take, give it everything they had into it and make sure not to fuck up anything to a point of no return.

He sees that the distraction is in motion as he moves, the men below being called for a "disturbance" outside. He moves past room after room before making it to the first room he needed to be in, the door locked he grabs a hair clip he keeps as the knob shakes with each twist and turn the clip makes.

A sound of a click tells him its open as he turns the knob and sneaks inside the room. The area he enters is piled with paper upon paper, files with names and dates of each transaction happening between this group and a whole trading railroad of others.

He gets to work as he surfs through the names and dates, digging through each paper for a certain initial given to him during the briefing before this. Moving past a desk and onto a crate with word of "أسلحة".

After finding nothing he stares at the other containers with scraps of useless or important papers they might not even need. He hears the commotion outside is starting to get ramped up as the sound of gunfire and shouts make their way into his ears.

He remembers during the meeting leading up to this heist that the client had said something about a box with a latch or something metal keeping where that file they wanted was in.

He made his way through the crates as he scans each of them for that specific important detail.

"I'll do it." Jake says as Marc eyes rolled back and is in control, it only take him a second but eventually he finds the box with the latch on it. It seemed to have a unique detail on it as there was a red line on the side of it, it just seemed to be more important than the rest.

The latched creaked open as he opens to see whether the contents they need are intact there, there are casing bundles of hay inside, he digs through it. A hard surface meets his glove as he pulls out a plastic suitcase like box that would be used to transport weapons, in this case, however, held files.

Hundreds of them even.

'Why would they hide files here?' The thought followed with creased eyebrows and a confused expression.

He pulls them out and scans them for that initial, something however catches his eye. The initials of something with "AH" with a small marking of the same tattoo that the Timsaeh people had. His left eyebrow lifted at this, it was too much of a coincidence for this to be here.

And in this case nonetheless. Who cared if curiosity killed the cat, a cat had nine lives. He opens the vanilla folder as he checks the contents on why the Timsaeh were even anywhere near this group of people.

From what he could see, there were a small transaction here and there. Weaponry, medical kits, and other materials that were essential for what seemed like survival. It seemed like normal illegal trading from one group to another.

Still, Jake felt something was off. He didn't trust the Timsaeh, never has and never will. He however was on a time crunch and the guys below could only keep the guards, (if you could call them that) occupied for so long. He needed to finish this job, so he instead steals the paper.

He folds the paper and stuffs it into their pocket before moving onto the next files.

He reachs again pulling out another file from inside the crate. They said the file should be here, there was only 5 more files to go through before the sound of footsteps made him stop.

Not wnating to risk it, he puts the files on the desk before making his way behind the door. His hand going towards his pistol ready to pull out in case he is caught.

The steps quicken as he hears the noise behind the wall. The voices sounding confused and frustrated, "هذه الوظيفة هي ألم في المؤخرة." The muffled voice say as a hummed sound of agreement, echos of footsteps keep him there until he knows they are far enough not to hear him. He waits a couple more seconds before leaving the hiding place and going back to the crate.

It was the second to last file where he finally found the file they wanted, the initial of "AM" Show up as he places the file in his jacket, a pocket big enough to hold the file. Putting the other paperwork back and closing up the crate to how it was, he walked towards the door and checked for any guards around, finding them to be in their own world.

He takes the opportunity and leaves to towards another room to hide before closing the door behind him. He makes it towards a window before signaling he grabs the file. One gives him a thumbs up before Jake goes and gets ready to retrieve the next thing on his list of demands.

"Hey, wanna play?" A whispered voice comes out as Katalina puts the comic down after reading it for the 5th time now.

'Okay, maybe she enjoyed the comic than she thought she would.'

It was one of Gena kids.

'Ray was his name, right?'

"Aren't you working?" She asked the boy as he opens the door a little bit more. "No, every week we get a day off." The information getting her attention, maybe they made a good amount to not have to work every day, that's good.

She had heard stories of the before times, people working everyday to meet the bills for their everyday expenses, it never made sense to her.

"So, you wanna play or no?"

She looks down at the comics and then back at the boy. She could read the same story again — but than she would get bored of it and she rather not.

Plus, she was getting bored of being stuck in the room. It's not that she wasn't greatful, but its like being a plant and plants needs sunlight. She had finished her chores for Gena that she had been assigned to her in the morning anyways.

Finally deciding she nods showing a grin on her face as she gets off the bed and puts her shoes on. Fixing the ties into bunny ears and then double knotting it to be sure.

She reaches for her backpack as she started to put her hand through one of the straps before his voice intrupted.

"Don't need it, we aren't going far." He reassures her. A little stunned at first but slowly nods as she puts the backpack back, it sat against the wall before he waits for her in the hallway.

The hallway was open and bright, walking down the hallway she smells the sweet smell of tea, it makes her smile slightly as she sees Gena siting down with her other son Ricky.

"Where you two going?" Gena ask as the two kids looked at her. Katalina looks over at Ray who looks at her than back at hisat his mom.

"Just downstairs, we'll stay in the box area. Promise mom."

The women looks at the two, before sighing and giving in.

"Be careful. If you hear any gunfire, you run right back here. Understood?" She reminds her son, and now this girl temporarily put into her care by someone who trusts her to keep this kid safe until he comes back.

The two kids nods as the boy runs towards the door, the girl surprised suddenly runs after the boy and both leave together from the apartment. He runs down the steps as others are walking or talking with each other as they see the kids fly pass then.

"Last one down is a rotten egg!" Ray yells and Katalina takes the challenge as she mentally tells her legs to run faster, soon the two are head to head as they make it down the stairs way.

It's was a close one, but Ray ended up winning as their lungs fought a breath of air to cool them down. Chest hurting but high on adrenaline to really feel it in their lungs as they rested up from what seemed like a marathon to them.

"You went first, that's why you won."

"No, your just slow."

The two kids looked at each before laughing, they sit down at the steps of the entrance to the apartment complex as people came and went. The sun beat down on them, sweaty kids on whatever day it was now.

"Do you wanna play uno again?" Ray asked as Katalina smiled.

"Do you even have to ask." As a shit eating grin appeared on the girls face.

He pulls the card box out and lays it down giving her seven cards and pull seven cards for himself as the two went ahead and played the game.

They played for two hours.

"I'm just gonna beat you again dude, just call it quits, and maybe I'll give you mercy." Katalina mocks as she places down another blue card down.

"No way! I'm gonna beat you, just watch." Ray retorts with as a plastered smirk was on his face as he places down a red card, Katalina was out of red cards.

"Oh come on!" She whines in defeat as she grabs cards from the pile to the left of her.

"I told you I would get you back." He snickered as he watches the girl go from only three cards to eight.

The sound of shot being fired catches their attention. Their smiles dwindle as they stop moving, waiting to make sure they heard correctly. Again, the sound of bullets flying triggers the flight or fight reflex.

They grab whatever they can of the game as they run back inside the building, it seemed like the whole place had somehow gone to war as see people below are running like ants. They keep running as fast as they can back to the apartment.

There already was Gena with the door open.

"Inside, now!" She yells as the two kids rush inside as she slams the door shut behind her. The two drop the cards on the ground as they see both Gena and Ricky moving thing to open places.

Katalina rushes with Gena to cover the door with a cabinet while the boys plug up the window with whatever they could find large enough to, the sound turns from bullets to explosion too quickly as the ground below starts to rumble with each one that went off.

The ground shook as Gena pushes all the kids into another room, it was the one where she had been placed temporarily until the guys came back. Gena pushed the children to a corner as she pulled the wooden panel from below off showing some weapons and money that laid inside the little compartment.

Katalina whinces before covering her ears to not hear the sound of screams and combustion that was happening outside. Gena grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to sit down on ground next to her children who seemed to be holding each for the time being.

The ceiling shook as three kids huddled together for some type of comfort while Gena loads the shotgun with bullets. She points at the door ready to kill whoever comes through the door, her hands seem to be shaking slightly but her eyes were steady and observent.

The fighting continued for what seemed like an eternity before it started to simmer outside, the tense air filled up as the smell of smoke and metal circulated the oxygen they inhaled.

Soon the sound of things moving made them tense as all four people inside the small room seem to have all sense at a all high ready for whatever came. The adrenaline hitting hard for their instinct to kick in whenever.

It was silent before a knock was heard.

"It's me, I promise." A muffled sound comes out as the kids looked at each other.

"Marc?" Gena asked.

"Yeah, it me. Open the door Gena."

He sounded drained, Gena falters before slowly taking off the chair and unlocking the door, the shotgun still point as the door creaked open.

He comes in, grime of ash and blood. Darken eyebags than before with his clothing seemingly ruined and holes littered it. His hands were up in the air to show he wasn't an enemy to them.

The gun is lowered to the ground as the women walked over to him, he lowers his hands as she lead him to one of the twin bed in the room. He groans as he sits down, his black curls were messed up and his body seemed beyond used.

"Ray, Ricky, please go and get me the med-kit. Kat, please go get a rag and a bowl of some warm water." She instructs the kids as they all slowly got up from the floor and off to do what they were asked of.

Living in the place was easy as they didn't have complicated layout, she finds the cabinet where the cups, bowls, and plates were stored. Grabbing a medium size bowl she turns the tap and feels the water for a couple minutes before deeming it warm enough to not burn.

Filling it half way she puts it down before grabbing a rag from another cabinet, pulling a red one as she goes back grabbing the bowl and bringing it back to the room where the other two had already brought the med-kit.

"Here." She tells the lady as she nods and grabs the bowl from her before taking the rag gently from her hand. Marc looks at her, the girl looked fine.

Steven had said to make sure the kid was okay when they came back after the whole battle outside, there had been many casualties but they had managed to get rid of the ones who had started it. She slowly lifts her hand to give a small wave.

Marc just stares at her. He seemed out of it for the most part, his eyes seeming almost empty for the most part. His expression of being stoic being apparent. Her eyebrows are pinched, she looked concern for him, she didn't have to be, it's not her problem.

After a while of staring at each other for a couple seconds before he lowered his head to the ground,he was just tired. They hadn't slept since the job, and it was catching up to them.

"Come on, let my mom help him." Ricky said as he gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to move as the three children left the room. Their footsteps with no rhythm as they walked down the corridor again for what seemed like the third time today.

A couple minutes later Gena come out, the sound of her coming gets the children attention as she looks at Katalina.

"He wants to talk with you." Her voice steady as the girl nods and gets up from the chair she had sat on. She felt her hands were sweaty, why was she nervous?

The way to the room seem to stretch forever, she felt like she hadn't even moved at all. Before she knew it she was right there, wiping her hands on the shirt she had on today and grabbing the knob as she turns it.

She sees him, he still sitting on the bed, his face and arms dressed in bandages. He looks up as the switch happened, his once straighten back slouched slightly as he looked at her.

"Steven?"

"Yeah. It's me kiddo, sorry we took so long."

She feels slight relief that it was Steven who had fronted this time, she doesn't know why.

"It's fine. You guys, okay?" She ask as she glances the wounds on his face, they look cleaned but definitely would need to time to heal.

He nods moves a little only to winced at the wounds but tries to hide it for the time being.

"Feel like I got hit by a truck, but I'll live." He says with the best reassuring smile he could muster, his body felt like it was on fire and constant pulsing from the bruises and cuts they had gotten from the past couple of days was killing him.

"So, what now?" That was the big question, she wasn't sure whether they were even in a good condition to even move at all, but it's was up to them nonetheless.

"Well, we managed to get a ride. A little close than what we would have had to walk to get there. It would still take us a week to make it to where our other friend will be." He explains as she listens to him, at least they had a ride. But he was injured, how the hell they would even make it that far was beyond him.

"Do you know when we have to get on this ride?" And he lays down on the bed. "It will be here in two days, give or take." He answers, that's not nearly enough time for them to heal up.

Whether he can takes it or not is the problem, it's the fact that he won't be able to fight as good as he could with all the injuries they have on themselves.

"I don’t know if that's a good idea, not to be rude man but you look like you got the ever lasting shit beaten out of you." She grimace, he definitely is not ready to go.

His jaw tightens as his head turns to look at her. "That's not your problem kid, this might be our only chance to even get anything like this in a while."

Her lips pursed at this.

"Alright." She responds with as she looks at the man, he looked like shit. But he didn't seem to bothered or either was trying his best to make it seem like it.

For the most part she couldn't tell if he was in pain or not, but he won't tell her that.

"We will leave in two days. Have everything you need packed by then." He instructs as he looks at the ceiling and puts his arm in his eyes.

Yay!!! Finally we are getting somewhere with them. I wanted to make this chapter a little longer than before and hopefully I succeeded with that.

Sorry for taking so long. A medical issue was happening, and I was needed, so this had to be postponed while I assisted with what was needed from me. Everything is no worries there👍

Another note to add on is that I don't speak nor write in Arabic, so if there is an error in how it is written—please let me know. It would really help with anything I could improve on in the future of this story!

Thank you for your patience and hope you have a good day, afternoon, and night.

Sky 💜

[rhosmeinir]

Fictober 2023 #7

Prompt #7 - "Do you recognize this?"

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which they clean the bookshop, and Aziraphale finds something he'd almost forgotten. 467 words!

Crowley had finally convinced Aziraphale to do something about at least some of the clutter in the bookshop— using the reasoning, of course, that while it might keep the customers away, it also made it harder for the angel himself to find things. This argument had the benefit of being true, and Aziraphale agreed, resulting in the pair of them spending the day amidst clouds of dust, stacks of books that hadn’t been disturbed in who knows how long, and attempting to decipher handwriting on old scrolls and ledgers that would have made the best of paleographers cringe. 

At the moment, Aziraphale was tackling an old desk on the circular balcony that had been piled high with books, bric-a-brac, and various literary paraphernalia for decades. At one point it had been his primary desk, positioned to overlook the front door, but this had led to the impression of being welcoming to those who wished to purchase books, and he’d abandoned it. Aziraphale was making quite good headway, and the desk now contained only a single layer of various stuff. He exhaled with a contented “ha!” before reaching out at random to pick up an object.

Crowley, who had been attacking a dangerously unstable bookcase nearby, leaned around it at the sound of Aziraphale’s satisfied noise, feather duster in hand. His lighthearted tease died on his lips as he saw the angel cradling something in a posture that he seemed to remember, with a look of deep sadness on his face.

“Angel?” Crowley asked, sliding out from behind the bookcase and heading towards the desk, “What’ve you got there?” Aziraphale looked up, and showed Crowley the object: an old glass wide-mouthed bottle, with a grisly-looking object inside.

“Do you recognize this?” Crowley peered at it for a moment before it came back to him.

“Oh, yes! That’s from good old Mister Dalrymple’s house of medical horrors, isn’t it. You went back for that? What of earth for?” Aziraphale returned to tenderly cradling to jar, and sank onto the tall stool beside the desk. He stroked the glass gently with one finger, all the details of the tumor inside returning to his memory from the many hours he had spent staring at it at this very desk.

“As a reminder,” he said in a low voice, “that I am frequently wrong and do not know best.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, and his lip trembled. The demon strode to his side and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s find him a new place in the window downstairs. I think there’s a sunny spot on the sill above your desk currently occupied by a horrible ceramic Pekingese.” At once Aziraphale’s expression transformed into one of horrified protestation.

“Oh, but I love that dog!”  

[ebonyslasher]

Spicy Alphabet: Daniel Lamb

Make sure to read Daniel's character information post I made if you're unfamiliar with his character.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

“Are you okay? Did you like it?”

Daniel takes the time to catch his breath while holding you. You feel his kisses scatter on your body, his lips finding your nipple as his tongue swirls your areolas. They harden more, excited with his actions. Moist pink lips suction on them, eliciting a small moan from your form.

At some point, it’ll be time to clean up....or not. He doesn’t mind sitting in the product of the coupling for a bit.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Daniel: Torso. The running, hiding, and killing has built up Daniel’s body over the years. He used to have a broad, but undefined chest and stomach. Now he has pecs and a sketch of abs. 

You: Your face. He gets entranced by your beauty. He loves looking at your facial expressions, hopefully you are expressive type! If he can, he will keep a picture of you with him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Ejaculates an average amount, but his refractory period is shorter than average. Daniel can pile cum on or in you throughout back to back sessions. He likes his cum on you, in you, and on himself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When he would go on his fishing trips with Michael, his mouth would be filthy when he talked about sex and who he was attracted to. Michael was no different. If you worked or interned at the workplace, you were definitely on the list of ones he would talk about. Maybe a bit too much. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

No, but yes. He had a wife, so obviously yes. But, he doesn’t remember her, so technically no. Muscle memory will kick in and will build his sex skills back up quickly.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He would rather sex be serious. But, he’s open to be humorous.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not groomed, he doesn’t have time. If Daniel is at your residence, he will groom at your place before any sexual activity. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Pretty intimate, Daniel can’t get off without some emotional attachment. Especially with the trouble of preserving his memory. Daniel believes in the phenomenon where the more attached he is, the more likely he will remember the memory for a substantial amount of time. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

The scenes he’s forced in are too tense where consistent focus is on surviving; therefore, it won’t be on his mind. Even outside of surviving, Daniel has tunnel vision on any interesting topics. When he’s actually relaxed is when he will be open to play with himself. He keeps it quite simple, quick and easy.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Being flashed, Nice fragrances or aromas, Erotic images/art, Medical Play/Roleplay, voyeurism, squirting, cumplay, comfort sex. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your place or a random hotel.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your smiles, High intellect, being helpful to his situation, strength (emotional,mental, or physical), strong loyalty, a little bit of obsessive behavior (towards him). 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Don’t mention Leo during intimate moments, it just seems wrong. If you’re trying to get close to him, Don’t be mysterious about who you are and your intentions. No talk of The Project, or threatening to turn him in. No sadistic cruelty (unless the person deserved it) and no trying to control him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Both. Daniel savors the taste of you and is desperate for you to taste him whole. With a lot of saliva.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Hard, moderate to fast. Will like slow, but does it to drive you or him crazy

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He is open to them, although it is not his key preference. He does often wake up with morning wood and wants to solve it quickly.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, as long as no one gets hurt.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

High, He hides, stalks and kills for hours and days at a time. 3 in one go, 30-40 minutes (depending on foreplay).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No, can’t. Before the bridge, he only had one pocket pussy hidden in the house. Of course, that’s torched now. Although a bit overwhelmed, Daniel will be interested in using it on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sometimes, when he wants you to act/look desperate or wants a big release

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Moderately loud. Daniel sounds like a delicious nerdy mess.

“Y/N…mmmnnn”

“Oh god, yes!” 

“The inside of you feels so good..”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“Sit on my chest and play with yourself until you squirt on my face.”

Daniel loves the visual of your squirting on him. He’s not afraid of your sex liquid splashing him. He enjoys the hit of salt and tang that washes over his tongue, the wet and uncomfortable feel of the ejaculate hitting his flesh, and the squelching lead up and the uncontrollably loud moaning as you release onto him. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8 inches length. 2 inch Width. His head is perfectly bell shaped and a pink color, shade #B75D5C. His slit is convex like a cat’s pupil, with a little pucker in the middle. Circumcised. Slight curve, approximately 0.85%. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Average

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Here are the following conditions: 

In the situation of you journeying with him: Daniel will fall asleep if he feels safe/comfortable. May wake up as Leo and try to make you continue. May wake up as Daniel and either: hang around (morning) or continue (night).

In the situation where he comes to your residence: Daniel will stay and sleep, if his PTSD doesn’t act up. Even in the event that it does, he will cuddle and hang onto you. Leo will try to leave or coax another session before hopping out. 

[fatedwithmbc]

The nights I need to go to sleep at a decent hour turn into the nights I’m up for all hours. I find it difficult to understand because I take the same medications each evening. Last night, my medications put me into a drowsy state quite easily and quickly after taking them. Tonight, I’m pleading for the same reaction without the side effect actually occurring. I’ve even set up and am diffusing lavender oil. Crazy how life works out like that sometimes. Even more confusing is that I didn’t take a nap today, so I should feel more prone to sleeping anyway.

This afternoon, I picked up my medication samples from the psychiatrist, followed by a trip to Starbucks. I confirmed a doctor appointment. I also rescheduled my hair appointment because my hair doesn’t seem like it needs maintenance yet and did my nightly routine (5 Minute Journal, Tarot One Card Pull, Color Oracle One Card Pull, The Daily Stoic and Color My Mood) because I knew I’d be going out to dinner. Then occupy my time and ensure I didn’t nap, I did several things this afternoon.

I tried placing my mug racks in the location I imagined they’d work and I was wrong. That section of my wall isn’t wide enough for six of the racks. I will have to settle for three in the initial spot and then place three in another location.

Once I was done fiddling around with the mugs, I decided to organize my t-shirts. I sorted them into a few categories: Eagles, Phillies, 76ers/Flyers and then bands and shirts from traveling. I still have a section of shirts in a laundry basket that I need to add to this, but I didn’t realize I missed them until I had finished the initial organization process. I learned I have about 40 t-shirts for the Eagles alone. Next highest is for the Phillies. In third, travel and random shirts followed by band t-shirts. I’ll dig into the final pile and do a reorganization of my dresser drawers to accommodate the changes tomorrow. I think this heightened my realization that I really do not need any more t-shirts (… or mugs).

I’m literally running out of physical space. If I have enough band and travel t-shirts, I may seek getting them made into a quilt. I need 42 for a queen sized quilt. My sports attire I live in and don’t think I can part with even to make a quilt which would preserve the items. And, I think it would fuel the purchase of more sports attire— which is no solution to the initial problem (lack of space).

The lack of space triggered a closet clean out project that I’ve been working on all summer. Currently, I’m down to needing to put hoodies into totes. But it’s going to be cold soon and I’m questioning the tote solution. I’ll figure it out.

I also have a lot of things for the church rummage sale, but that is in October. I’m driving my Mom-Mom nuts with piles of things here, a tote bag there— it’s just all in process and not finalized and I understand her frustration.

Basically, I need to keep working on getting my shit together emotionally, medicinally and physically. Haha

This evening, I did have a nice dinner with Dan & Betsy at Founding Farmers. I swear it’s my favorite restaurant. I could go there all of the time. They enjoyed it as well. We had an enjoyable time and I brought home some chocolates to share with Mom-Mom.

Mom-Mom and I chatted and then read “Good Enough” by Kate Bowler and Jessica Richie. We’ve been doing this practice together because I feel she has strong faith and I found that I would need to have conversations after certain chapters. Therefore, it became a practice with us and I enjoy that we’re doing it together. The best is that there isn’t pressure to do it daily and we do it at our own pace and have meaningful conversations after we each read the chapter. It’s something I’ll be glad we’ve done and accomplished in the future and I value the wisdom that I get from the conversations.

I’m finally starting to feel a bit more on the sleepy side. Maybe I just needed to get rid of these thoughts, no matter how mundane. Also, day two of cycle three of Ibrance: so far, so good.

Thank you all for your support and of course reading my work!

El Fin.

[fragileswift1313]

Saul!

Kia ora, team!

Welcome to July! We are officially half-way through 2023, which feels bonkers to say because it feels like it’s been so much longer than that since the beginning of the pandemic, and yet somehow like time is flying. I don’t know about you all, but I am really starting to feel my age. 😅

Okay so: I had a random idea for a guy when I woke up on Saturday morning, so before I did anything like take my medication or eat breakfast, I sat down at my computer and wrote 2000 words about the guy, his girlfriend, and some people he knows. It’s not finished, and to be honest I’m not really sure where it’s going, but I had fun writing about Saul and his daily life. The more I wrote, the more I realised he is kind of based on someone I’ve known for a long time but haven’t really been on contact with much lately. I’m obviously not going to say outright who he is, but I would like to think that if he read this he would find it endearing rather than sad. It was not my intention for the reader to feel sorry for him - Saul knows who he is and what he’s about, and while he is very jaded, but he loves his work and he loves his friends. Saul is a good guy who would do anything for you if he thinks you’re worth it, and he’s loyal to a fault. Saul is the kind of guy who smokes weed and is covered in tattoos, but you’d still feel comfortable bringing him home to meet your parents.

I love Saul so much, you guys.

I’m only sharing here about 750 of the 2000 words I wrote this past weekend for a couple of reasons, but the main one is because it would make this post very long and potentially make it too long to send in email. The other reason, though, is that I just want to keep a little bit of it to myself for now. You’ll more than likely see it somewhere eventually, though!

Before we get into it, I want to make mention here that there are mentions of alcohol and drug use in this story - it's nothing hard core, but it's there and I wanted to let everyone know in case these things are a trigger for you! Okay, with that all out of the way, let's dive in!

Saul quietly stirred from his slumber and slowly opened his eyes. At first everything was a blur, but things gradually came into focus. His sense of smell was returning to him also. The room smelled of stale beer in beer cans, cigarette ash, and weed – but it was a comfortable cocktail for Saul. Safe, predictable. He had a slight headache, but not so bad that he immediately reached for the ibuprofen; that would come later, once he started moving, he thought.

Saul sat up in his bed and surveyed the mess that was the usual state of his studio apartment. Dishes piled on the small kitchen counter. A mound of empty pizza boxes from the week-long Domino’s binge that had just, hopefully, ended. An upturned ashtray that Saul figured must have been sitting on the bed when he passed out the night before. His exes clothes in a pile in a corner, waiting to be picked up. Saul grunted as he raised himself up to put his feet on the floor. “There it is,” he winced as his headache instantly worsened. He picked up the plastic strip of ibuprofen tablets off the floor beside the bed and popped three out, placing them on his bedside cabinet.

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He looked around his immediate vicinity for some kind of liquid to wash the pills down with, but all he could see was a half empty can of strong lager from the night before. “Hmm… nope,” he muttered to himself as he gathered the will to stand up and walk to the kitchen counter. He shuffled across the room and looked through the cupboards above the sink, searching for a clean glass – but they were all empty. “Fuck,” Saul then began looking over the pile of dirty dishes to find one that was the cleanest and could be easily rinsed off and used again. It took him a moment, but he found one, ran it under the tap and wiped it off, then opened the fridge, took out a bottle of some flat orange soda and placed it on the bench. After filling his glass, he poured the rest of the soda down the sink, murmuring about not being entirely sure where it came from, and then sat back down on his bed. Saul took the pills, and almost spat them out with the taste of the soda but controlled himself long enough to swallow. He sat, motionless, for a moment, hoping for an instant effect. It didn’t come, so he groaned and lay back down.

An hour or so later, Saul awoke again, feeling slightly better, to the sound of his phone vibrating somewhere his bed sheets. Eventually he discovered it just in time for the caller to hang up. Saul looked at the name, “Ugh, Sarah. Work.” He shook his head a little, “fuck that,” and put his phone down beside him. The phone began to vibrate again, same caller. “God damnit,” Saul hit the answer button followed by the speaker button, “What?” he grumbled, his phone held out limply in front of him while he sat, eyes closed.

“Hey Saul, it’s me. How are you doing?” “What do you want Sarah?” Saul groaned, knowing what she was going to ask. “Sorry Saul, I know you had a big night. Andy called in sick.” “That motherfu-“ Saul’s voice trailed off. “He was here last night.” “I know.” “He’s not sick, he’s hungover.” “I know.” “I am also hungover.” “I figured,” Sarah paused a beat. “Can you come in tonight?” Saul grumbled as he gave the question a moment’s thought. “Please?” “No.” “Pretty please?” “No.” “Anna is out sick too-“ “She was here last night.” “I know.” “She’s hungover too.” “I know. But I’m covering for her, so I’ll be here with you for moral support all night!” Sarah had a twinge of optimism in her voice, feeling certain that her presence would make Saul reconsider. “Fine.” “Yay!” Sarah squealed in excitement. “I’ll see you at six, okay? Bring your happy face!” “Fuck you, Sarah.” Saul did another grumble. “You know you love me! Bye Saul!” Saul hung up his phone and threw it across the room at a pile of dirty laundry and missed. “Fuuuuuuuuuck!”

It was almost 5:45pm by the time Saul arrived at the restaurant, The Smoking Gun. Sarah had been stalking his phone so she knew when he was almost there, and she had made a coffee for him, just the way he liked it, ready and still hot when he arrived. “Saaaaaauuulll,” Sarah sang as she heard the door open before she could see him. “I maaaaade you cofffeeeee!” Saul sauntered over, clearly still not having a great day.

“Hey Sarah,” he winced as he walked up behind the bar. “Thank you for the coffee.” Still in her sing-songy voice she replied, “You’re welcommmmmeee,” and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for coming babe.” “You’re welcome, but you owe me. This coffee doesn’t absolve you of the misery you are putting me through tonight.” “Put it on my tab,” Sarah laughed. Saul gave her a wry little smirk and headed for the kitchen. “Asshole.” “You love me!”

So what do you think? Do you want to know more about Saul? I would love to write about him more whether anyone wants to read it or not, but I’d love to know how y’all feel about my new guy that I made up.

As always, thanks so much for reading. If you want to read more stuff written by me, you can check out my movie reviews over on Letterboxd! I recently reviewed Queen of the Damned (2002), Poseidon (2006), and Single White Female (1992), and I’m hoping to do a few more this coming week. If you have comments, questions, suggestions, or just want to say hi, please hit me up in the comments or at any of the socials in the links below.

Stay safe out there everybody and have a great week. I love you! Ka kite anō au i a koe. 💚

Rebecca

| Twitter | Mastodon | Bluesky | Cohost | Substack | itch.io | Letterboxd | Instagram | Carrd | Email |

[wa-kaizen]

channeling you and your soulmate | PAC

art credit; tono @/t0no idea credit; my violet @the-wild-candy

this idea does not belong to me but to violet/elly!

I thought it's a beautiful and very sweet idea! i never saw anything like this before so i would like to try it! keep in mind these can be both a platonic or romantic soulmate! if you feel called to multiple don't be afraid to check out each. this will be focused mainly on conversations and the way you two will interact.

with this I will use tarot as a guide not as a base for the reading! so instead of the usual 50%, this one will be 80% intuition, so take it as it resonates.

PAID READINGS ♡ masterlist

꒰ piles ꒱

→ 1 , 2 ,3

→ 4, 5, 6

sections ༉˚

‐ conversations

- moments

- random things that come through

- media that might be relevant - songs/movies/shows -

- things that connect your soul to one another

- your differences & things you share in common

- signs before you two met/will meet

                         ꒰ welcome  ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

— have fun!

꒰ pile one ꒱

black and white lady cats on a walk, facing each other

cards the hanged man, queen of pentacles, seven of swords, dove, cow, bear, archangel mary, seraphim seraphina, archangel haniel

cocoon of white light - rest in perfect love, understand oneness, shower of blessing, - open yourself to receive, pay it forward, caring community - participate and belong, enrich your life

↳ ❝ [ conversations ] ¡! ❞

green will be feminine and pink will be masculine.

" Should I get this checked out? " " For the third time I am no- Oh God, that looks ugly as hell "

" If I would be a star among millions of others would you look at me? " " I would search the sky just to find out where you went "

" Why don't you go? " " I want to see your face for a little longer "

" I think I might be bipolar " " babe, we already got the medical diagnosis "

" Hey Stacy- " " I am NOT listening to that joke again "

" Have you ever heard about this theory of- " " Yes, I am listening "

↳ ❝ [ moments ] ¡! ❞

these are visions.

The wind brushes their hair onto their face as they smile at you looking forward yelling cheerful nothing as you are in a good mood causing them into slowly falling in love with you.

Them walking home in the dark, in winter, snow surrounding the street they are walking in, which happens to be small. Warm street light shines on their face when they receive a text from you which will either result in; crying, running to you or feeling loved. The message you will send will depend on how your day will affect you.

Two people dancing to the ketchup song in some sort of gathering in a house, being silly and enjoying their time together. It possibly being morning or night time since both people look comfortable rather than dressed up.

Soup being cooked on a stove, person in charge of cooking making their heart's loved one taste it. - It's a traditional reddish looking dish and has potatos if I might add. -

Laying next to one another, listening to music while sharing earphones/airpods, feminine having eyes closed and relaxing being unaware of masculine watching with adoration in their eyes, full of love. - Hearing dandelions. -

Painting together, cheeks messy from black paint, both holding the same brush while trying to make strokes on a white canvas. - this could be a symbolism for some. -

↳ ❝ [ random ] ¡! ❞

these will be things that could happen to end up being relevant.

greys, sunflower seeds, oversized shirts, a white puppy, 80s, death of loved one, sneakers, a place! a rock in front of a river surrounded by trees but not quite a forest, ants?, culture - you two have different ones most likely -, swimming, live savers, old 2006 camera - grey with stickers, apple stickers?, hay hat, fair?, theme park, 'aim well and win!', the ketchup song - y aserejé-ja-dejé de jebe tu de jebere seibiunouva majavi an de bugui an de güididípi aserejé-ja-de jé -

↳ ❝ [ media ] ¡! ❞

these could happen to end up being things you both love or hate, just anything you could connect over.

mr krabs memes, tiktok, gen z, food accounts - saw girl eating dumplings - , dumb humour - disrespectful at times disgusting, very much gen z humour but not 'quirky' one hidden as secret desires, y'all are just both weird -, gangnam style - ? -, '🐱 clean 🐱 tight 🐱 fresh' - get help /j -, joe jonas - ??? -, disney, stereotyping, social judment, cultural apprication, 'dumb truck', hot in here by nelly, rocks - music & and literal rock -, electric guitar, lot of blacks & neutrals, cold play, 'if happy ever after did exist'

↳ ❝ [ soul connection] ¡! ❞

these could end up being; past life connection, soul family, destiny together, just whatever that relates you two to one another.

You both went through a kind of lesson that have pained your soul a lot in the past, and possibly still affects your trust. This is for sure love related, someone close to you two hurt both of you in ways so similar to each other.

It can be related to friends, parents but for most of you this is a romantic love interest who happened to cheat on you.

For them while this made them more appricative of what they have and may go out of their way to show affection due to trauma, they also have trust issues and might be insecure even though they try to hide it. They are very calm & gentle, their aura is very pure too. While for you this experience made you very paranoid and emotionally aggressive, I can see you accusing them while yelling. This is due to a mis --- understanding. This will be the root of the problem in this relationship. They are the calm and gentle earth while you are the explosive fire capable of destroying it. I know this is a hard to swallow pill for most of you however, for the majority of you the toxic - or hurtful - person in the relationship will in fact be you. Not saying you aren't able to love them, I sense many many love here, however you need to do heavy shadow work to regulate your emotions in a healthy manner.

Trigger warning; Mentions of R4P3

I know, I know, that sounds scary for some of you, but it's fine, it is indeed not for all of you. If you have been betrayed by a friend there's a huge possibility they have been betrayed the same way as you if not the exact same.

That betrayal could have been them sleeping with your ex or crush, them befriending the person who raped you, them hurting a little sibling of yours by bullying them, them disrespecting your mom.

Literally anything you can possibly think of. They have went through the pain you do, and they understand, they want to talk and they know you want to talk as well.

Here, there is no anger, no explosion, just two hurt souls connecting over what was supposed to turn out love yet turned onto a knife in your back.

I got a vision of you two laying on your back, outside while looking up at the sky, talking about all the things you two experienced, shedding tears and talking about how none of you deserved to go through that. - and I agree, you didn't. -

Otherwise, the rest is people who connect over trauma from their parents who were equally bad in raising them. Maybe mental health problems as well.

Such as depression or anxiety. Or who separate ones, who "compliment" one another. - For example, your weakness being their strength and vise visa, thus helping each other grow in specific eras in life. -

What came to my mind upon that is ADHD and Autism, but of course, you should rather take this as an example and not as a fact.

↳ ❝ [ two sides of a coin ] ¡! ❞

You two, to no surprise share a lot in common.

They share your fashion style - although they are more fashionable -, your humour, love language, level of intelligence, societal understanding, morals, political views, joy for things in life and even the things you two hate.

Anything that could be the core of your being.

Your sense of self could be the same, however your nature could be the complete opposites. I would say almost as if you two are twin flames. - Do not take my word for it though. -

They are gentle, sweet, understanding, good with words, charismatic, someone who always has control over their situation.

You are passive, think with your emotions, impulsive, assuming, judging and can misunderstanding situations.

That is of course not the core of your being, but in this reading that's what came through.

It's the sun and moon, bringing out the best of one another.

Nurturing and protect, comfort and bravery.

You might think you are the moon, but in reality they are.

↳ ❝ [ signs ] ¡! ❞

Rocks near rivers and trees, greys, crabs, - old - memes, 'sweets and kisses' - you will know better than me what this means, blues, anime, clouds, soft cybercore, friends, water, swimming, downing - in movie/show -, old music, reggae

Thank you for reading.

꒰ pile two ꒱

ginger cat lady holding an umbrella, girl in blue dress next to her, them holding the hands of multiple young kittens

cards four of wands, five of wands, the sun, panda, ant, llama, archangel muriel, guardian angel, archangel roquiel

listen to your heart - awaken your spirit abilities, tune in infinite, mahatma energy - build your light body, accelerate your ascension, unicorn portal - focus your light, listen for a message

                     ↳ ❝ [ conversations ] ¡! ❞

green will be feminine and pink will be masculine. 

" Partners in crime bestie! " " C-Clair/Clarence? Clair/Clarence I am trying to focus "

"Choose th- " " Kisses " " I didn't even finish " " I need a kiss "

" You can be James and I will be Jessie "

" Anyway, and then she slapped him! " " With those nails?! "

Y'all would gossip quite a lot, nothing harmful though.

                         ↳ ❝ [ moments ] ¡! ❞

these are visions

Feminine being speechless, standing and staring at masculine with an open mouth while wearing a brown suit. - No, it does not show what shocked you. -

Shorter person in question crying while looking up at the taller one, wearing a white form of top wear - hoodie, zip up ect - being hurt and mad, being hugged by taller person after a comfort smooch. - Not a sensual kiss, only pureness -

Both people in question laying next to a pool on white beach chairs, feminine in striped - white and blue - bikini and the masculine in black shirt with darker pool shorts. Just vibing.

Feminine playing with a white dog at an open space - those typical chained up dogs who are usually outside -, masculine secretly adoring while drinking soda. - For some of you it will be beer. -

Feminine tracing images on the back of masculine while their shirt is off in a dark room at night as they are drifting off to sleep.

Two people laying on a cold floor, smaller person hugging the arm of the masculine tightly, both sleeping. A very sad atmosphere as you both experienced some kind of loss.

                          ↳ ❝ [ random ] ¡! ❞

these will be things that could happen to end up being relevant. 

green, beans, peas, pretzels, bees, breaks, neck, massage, chipped nail polish, blue balloon, 'pretty', safe, ling, boys, animatos, lemons, ping pong, papers, assignments

                           ↳ ❝ [ media ] ¡! ❞

these could happen to end up being things you both love or hate, just anything you could connect over.

Jessie and James from pokemon, games? genshin?, cosmo and wanda, fairies, fairy core, mermaids, law firm, pandas, competitions, baby daddy - sitcom -, vampires, studying ?, hits from the 70s, harry potter books

                  ↳ ❝ [ soul connection] ¡! ❞

these could end up being; past life connection, soul family, destiny together, just whatever that relates you two to one another. 

Most of you already know this person and just tried to see how accurate I could get, thus already knowing your connection.

There is some part of you that just know it intuitively, yet won't trust yourselves with it.

This is for those who have no idea, so please listen carefully. You have spent life times together, however not much. It's three, this one being the third of it. So, this far, you have been friendly rivals turned lovers in each.

What I am getting is mostly 1400s and sword fights, so in a past life you two fell in love during a friendly sword fight for sure. Just had to get that out of the way.

So far with each life times your mission is to bring out the best in one another, but in a honest and truthful way without sugar coating anything like most people around the both of you would do so.

The raw and honest truth, without anyone getting offended in the process, it's something very rare and you both know how to communicate perfectly with one another.

That is very rare to experience, especially since most humans have a sensitive ego, but in your case you both can talk honestly with one another without your confidence falling down the drain.

You are both open to criticism without falling a victim to it, without being fragile when hearing certain topics.

You are like two center puzzle pieces, it doesn't make sense until you see the full picture and look between the details.

            ↳ ❝ [ two sides of a coin ] ¡! ❞

things you have in common and differences!

You share a difference in hobbies, interests, media, bedding?- that's very random but it's what came through, fashion, triggers and needs in conversation

The energies here are very closed off, but you certainly don't differ from one another besides how you treat your own ambitions.

It's the way you treat like rather than core things, which will allow you both to grow and learn, have a wider perspective on things.

                            ↳ ❝ [ signs ] ¡! ❞

whistle, appa - as in, the bison in avatar -, lydia - ? - , snakes, pac man, bread, japanese flood vlogs, anatomy, the word 'why', blood, drawing on skin, white statues, yellow butterflies, caves, random technology glitches

Thank you for reading!

꒰ pile three ꒱

the focus being on a black and white kitten, one sitting on the bed as they are chatting while a third one is sleeping and as a ginger is backfacing them in the dark

cards two of pentacles, ten of wands, the moon, donkey, parrot, giraffe, archangel sammael, archangel sandalphon, archangel chamuel

enlightenment - look from the highest perspective, see the divine in everyone, violet flame - invoke the cosmic diamond violet flame, transmute all that is not love, shower of blessings - open yourself to receive, pay it forward

                     ↳ ❝ [ conversations ] ¡! ❞

green will be feminine and pink will be masculine. 

" Does it feel good? " " I mean I never had someone step on my back- "

" Laradidadi~ " " Sing this melody babe~ " " Is that how it goes? " " I have no idea "

" Soobin Soobin do you know- " " Please stop quoting it- " " Do you know Soobin? "

" You know, if we die one day, I want to share my grave with you " " If- ? "

" Do you love me? " " Did you even pay attention to what I just did?- "

" You smell so great " " It's my new perfume! "

                         ↳ ❝ [ moments ] ¡! ❞

these are visions.

Sitting across one another at a small table, head and arms resting on it, looking into each others eyes. This being in a smaller european style kitchen.

Standing in the rain watching as someone lays on asphalt and laying next to them.

Decorating a Christmas tree together in a small apartment.

Sleeping next to each other in a car, blankets wrapped around one another. It's during a stop on a road trip, heads resting on each others shoulder and head.

Tracing things on each others hand while holding each other.

                           ↳ ❝ [ random ] ¡! ❞

these will be things that could happen to end up being relevant. 

creation, rainbow bracelet, white, hello kitty, summer hit, 'boho', chains, ice, back cracking, boots, cyber goth fashion, depression, poems, hades, flames, contact lenses, eye drops

                           ↳ ❝ [ media ] ¡! ❞

these could happen to end up being things you both love or hate, just anything you could connect over.

k-pop, hell - the energy drink -, make up, true crime, theories, fairies, dragons, trends - focusing on piercings here -, fashion, design, materialism, memes/quotes, food shows

                  ↳ ❝ [ soul connection] ¡! ❞

these could end up being; past life connection, soul family, destiny together, just whatever that relates you two to one another. 

note; someone did definitely drown here, however the situation is different for everyone reading this. the half with thalassophobia is the one who happened to drown in these past life connections.

So, I can see people being confused upon reading the note, or even saying 'but we both have thalassophobia!' - which is the fear of larger bodies of water - and that's okay! There is more than just one things coming through.

I can see specific situations here, I will need you to use your gut and trust yourself to know which one applies to you, alright? You got this.

What I want to get out of the way is that while you are definitely soulmates there was a lot of hate in the past life you two have shared. It's the most recent one for all of you, something went wrong which caused a lot of hate. You two met at a time where you weren't ready yet. In your life time both yours and their mission is to forgive and treat one another nicely, have love and peace in yourselves, be apologetic and gentle to one another.

For a few of you, I can see your soulmate being victims of the titanic. Of course, you were there too. You were saved from dying in the cold water, while you had to watch them drown. You could have helped them, but you simply didn't want to do so, you had no intention of doing it.

There is guilt surrounding this and an apologetic aura, however you were not sad. You didn't love them, thus you didn't save them. You didn't appreciate all the things they did for you in their life towards their death. About two months before their death they fell in love with you.

They were in the process to fix their wrongs and you decided to keep on putting them down.

Now for those who can't relate - which I am sure it's a lot of you - an event similar to this took place for a lot of you. In a forest. Expect, you sat on a rock seeing them drown in the night. There is a lot of fog and it was possibly a full moon, however I do not understand why you watched? Your spirit guides do not want to tell, so try to communicate with them! Though, in the life time you two shared after it, he was the one who watched you drown.

In all of these there is a huge sense of melancholy, emptiness, lack of emotion, but there is one I got which is full of anger.

The one full of anger has zero romantic relations, in each life time you will be born as a family in a way or another.

If you are sensitive please do not read this paragraph! For the ones who feel like this is a family member, you two shared a past life together as a mother and son, in which the son ended up being drowned in a bathtub by the mother due to poor mental health.

I understand this can cause anxiety in some of you, but this life time will be very peaceful, this is for healing and loving one another. I do think that here you will be inseparable and live together in perfect harmony, a one of a kind bond with deep adoration. This is the life time where little to no things will go wrong, the calm after the storm. - yes, after. -

             ↳ ❝ [ two sides of a coin ] ¡! ❞

things you have in common and differences!

These is not much differences here, you both remind me of the cold wind on a cloudy gloomy afternoon, reflections of each other.

                           ↳ ❝ [ signs ] ¡! ❞

melancholic feeling, a lot of blues and whites, messy hair, old music - 1920 -, france? french?, caffeine, days going by slower, chill air no matter the weather, no energy

Thank you for reading!

꒰ pile four ꒱

ginger cat with three young kittens in front of a cottage

cards the world, knight of cups, two of cups, archangel michael, archangel raguel, archangel charity, bear, llama

open your heart - love yourself, dare to be vulnerable, the freedom of truth, be who you truly are, magical crystal cave - switch on your inner light, bring forward your gifts

note; this pile is the one with the least information, so incase you were drawn to another pile go ahead and read that one as well! This one is very short because the connection is fragile as of now. ♡

                      ↳ ❝ [ conversations ] ¡! ❞

green will be feminine and pink will be masculine. 

I am sorry, but nothing comes through here, your spirit guides are very closed off, and the ones of your soulmate even more so. Please look at other piles incase you were drawn to more than one! ♡

                         ↳ ❝ [ moments ] ¡! ❞

these are visions.

a girl on grey carpeted floor lying in black lingerie, recording herself as another person does something funny and both laughing.

two people taking mirror selfies in a public bathroom, but a rather fancy one.

two girls playing on golf grounds, possibly in a - golf - club.

two girls racing to get to talk with someone.

                           ↳ ❝ [ random ] ¡! ❞

these will be things that could happen to end up being relevant.

black, cats, sapphic flag, red lipstick, m&ms, sunglasses, instagram, 2014, tea, air filter, white, acrylic nails, blues and purples, babies, baby powder, carpeted floors

                           ↳ ❝ [ media ] ¡! ❞

these could happen to end up being things you both love or hate, just anything you could connect over.

best friend by doja cat, old money aesthetic, swimming competitions, rom com teen movies, make up brand testing, gossipping - about celebrities-, photoshoots, the kardashians, fake nails, vlogs!, directing

                  ↳ ❝ [ soul connection] ¡! ❞

these could end up being; past life connection, soul family, destiny together, just whatever that relates you two to one another. 

Power duooooo!! Go best friends!!! Leo and Capricorn energy!!!! No but for real, regardless of the root of this connection, you will be the bestest of friends.

The closest ones to one another.

Although you two are sharing a life together for the first time, you two are from the same soul family, there is no doubt about it.

You two are very close to one another and definitely understand each other in ways no one else is capable of doing so.

A very beautiful connection.

              ↳ ❝ [ two sides of a coin ] ¡! ❞

things you have in common and differences!

Not much differences here besides how giving and big your hearts are. You are much more cautious and they are much more empathetic.

                            ↳ ❝ [ signs ] ¡! ❞

money, sugar baby tiktoks but with comedy - ? - , readers posting signs, purples, leds, chilly air/trees being more reactive to wind, white lilies, scooby doo, ice cold water

Thank you for reading.

꒰ pile five ꒱

ginger cat with three kittens holding a lavender umbrella on a flower field.

cards four of wands, nine of wands, seven of wands, hyena, deer, rhinoceros, archangel preminilek, archangel dorenka, archangel hope

oneness - look for the common humanity, invoke lemurian light, cosmic ruby - be a peace ambassador, practice cosmic mastery

                      ↳ ❝ [ conversations ] ¡! ❞

green will be feminine and pink will be masculine. 

" What do I remind you of? " " Fire " " Because I am destructive? " " No, you are beautiful, warm and light up my times when there is nothing but dark "

" I am in love with you " " I am in love with you more "

" If we would be a fictional couple, who would we be? " " Eren and Mikasa "

" Who do you love more, me or- " " You. " " But I- " " I don't need to know, the answer is you. "

" Thank you. " " For? " " Just for existing... You know... for being you, being here, without you my life would be hell "

" Sunshine! " " Don't call me that " " Too late, you are my sunshine "

                         ↳ ❝ [ moments ] ¡! ❞

these are visions.

Second to last conversation being as the masculine is drifting off to sleep, eyes already closed, holding the feminine in their arms. Feminine holding back crying, to not wake them as they fall asleep after what they have said.

Both of you spinning in the rain outside of a house, rocks on the ground, not caring at all what anyone has to say. Maybe being barefoot. - I am sensing a spirit guide being mad at me for not telling you to take care of yourself here, lmao. Especially if you are black, an ancestor of yours is telling you to please wear shoes. -

Making desserts together, you making them try out a chocolate melt you have just made. Them frowning and saying it's good even though it's sour.

Two kids playing doctor, a little girl pretending to use tools to open the head of a little boy who calmly snacks on s'mores as none of them is hurt, the parents looking at them in almost horror. - I feel like, for some of you, you will have children together, if not, it will happen with little cousins of yours. -

Laying in a bed together, facing each other and staring onto the eyes of one another while smiling, stroking the cheeks of one another.

Watching netflix together on a couch, holding hands and enjoying the silence in the dark. A comfortable kind of love.

                           ↳ ❝ [ random ] ¡! ❞

these will be things that could happen to end up being relevant. 

meditation, bone cracking, yellow, bass music, spotify, the number 9, sharp nails?, braces, mint, lemon, zig zag, hair bands, pretzels, sea salt, nail strengthener, balls - the TOYS -

                           ↳ ❝ [ media ] ¡! ❞

these could happen to end up being things you both love or hate, just anything you could connect over.

You both do not consume enough media for this to be a whole section, the only things coming through are cable tv shows relating to health and arts, possibly some cartoons.

                  ↳ ❝ [ soul connection] ¡! ❞

these could end up being; past life connection, soul family, destiny together, just whatever that relates you two to one another. 

Okay so, while I pick up a bit on their energy as well, I pick up more on yours because they are an incredibly closed off person. Very private.

Trigger warning, mentions of sa and trauma

So, what basically, this person has been sent to you by your guides, by the universe. You might at first not trust them because of trauma in your past.

You could have been sexually assaulted or betrayed by someone you deeply loved and trusted which could cause trust issues inside your heart. - which is very valid. -

You could believe - or could have - that they are horrible and will hurt you as well, thus having a hard time opening up your heart and trusting them in a healthy manner, in a moderate amount.

For a lot of you, there was no trust in the beginning at all. - or will be - Which, most highly, your soulmate will be aware of.

Though! They will be very fine with that, as they have a very pure and understanding heart, especially in your situation.

It could be due to them going through something similar, or possibly someone close to them. - this could be a mom or a younger sister. - So they already know how to deal with a situation similar to yours in a lot of aspects.

Though, even if no traumatic events happened around them, they have a very high emotional intelligence and can handle whatever way you react, even if you might think that's not possible due to insecurity and subconscious trauma by how certain people have treated you in the past.

This person is nothing like them and has a very high amount of balance inside themselves, very loving and always does their best to not react in a hurtful manner, rather try to he the best version of themselves.

So, no matter what, they would love you with their whole heart. - just heard 'to the moon and back' -

This will be healing for both of you, but your guides focus on you, because you need to know that there is something amazing is waiting for you. - said with their words. -

This will be very healing for you!! You will feel so so loved in a type of lovely way you have never been loved before. Nothing fragile and very pure intentions, this person just wants the best for you in every way possible.

This connection reminds me of pure white snow, just after it had freshly fallen. A white canvas to start everything over.

It's something that will make you feel like a human again, that will allow you to feel alive without having to worry about basically anything, at all. Where you can just be yourself.

Some of you have been through abusive connections in the past and it has taken a big toll on you. You had to constantly explain yourself, have been controlled, maybe hit even? Not for all of you tho, manipulated and a lot more only you could know about.

It's very understandable that this would make you build your walls up and push others away, which a lot people don't seem to understand.

But they do, and they will. You will have to relearn how to have a healthy relationship again, and it could be hard but they will be very patient with you and understand your heart.

It will go well, maybe even more than just well.

             ↳ ❝ [ two sides of a coin ] ¡! ❞

things you have in common and differences!

You are the unstable sea, which moves to any difference, who hides many deep things inside themselves and can be destructive or welcoming.

They are the wind that will support you, calm you down but also lift you up. Which will move you in ever way they can, which will support you and never leave your side.

- pisces & libra , cancer and gemini -

                           ↳ ❝ [ signs ] ¡! ❞

white doves, chocolate kisses - the dessert not kissing actual chocolate -, wood door, icey water, water balloon, red nails, the sound of keyboards, sound sensitivity, bubblegums, strawberry flavour, red balloons, dominos

Thank you for reading.

꒰ pile six ꒱

ginger mama cat decorating christmas tree with her young kittens

cards death, the moon, page of wands, kangaroo, rhinoceros, bee, archangel zadkiel, archangel azriel, archangel mariel

creative solutions - think outside of the box, view things from a higher perspective, soul healing - align with your essence, see your true colours, cocoon of white light - rest in perfect love, understand oneness.

                     ↳ ❝ [ conversations ] ¡! ❞

green will be feminine and pink will be masculine. 

Nothing is coming through due to your spirit guides not allowing me to tap into your energy, if you are very curious you can always choose another pile or send an ask and I will be answering you privately! - please remember, anons cant be answered privately -

                         ↳ ❝ [ moments ] ¡! ❞

these are visions

I am sorry, but nothing came through here, because you possibly could focus on your feelings more than the possibility of a better future.

Though, you can always try to choose another pile, this one is quite weak!

                          ↳ ❝ [ random ] ¡! ❞

these will be things that could happen to end up being relevant. 

Fever, butterfly, 'chapter', chapsticks, dry lips, oil paint, crying while laughing, yoga !!, horror movies, fashion, screaming matches then immediately making up, yellow roses

                           ↳ ❝ [ media ] ¡! ❞

these could happen to end up being things you both love or hate, just anything you could connect over.

so sick by neyo, 'the boy is mine', the boondocks, yoga channels, amazon, 80s shows, make up influencers

                  ↳ ❝ [ soul connection] ¡! ❞

these could end up being; past life connection, soul family, destiny together, just whatever that relates you two to one another. 

No, this isn't your ex and that will never work out. You need to do some shadow work because if you keep being stuck up on them, you will never experience real love or a healthy relationship. They are in the past, it's time to accept that. There is a new chapter waiting for you but with the current mentality you posses you will be the problem during each hardship you will have to go through.

You have a hard time accepting this, even though you know it's true.

You keep being stubborn and ignore every sign you get that tells you to move on and healing from that connection.

While your soulmate will help you become a better person, you will either be a blessing or lesson to them, and currently it seems to be the latter. So, for the sake of both of you, work on yourself.

It does not matter if this soulmate in question is a friend or not, it applies all the same.

There is definitely something here you need to let go off, and it's a person. Ex s/o, ex friend, just some kind of ex.

             ↳ ❝ [ two sides of a coin ] ¡! ❞

things you have in common and differences!

They are much more emotionally aware than you are, but you possess more social intelligence than them.

You two will balance each other out in this aspect.

                           ↳ ❝ [ signs ] ¡! ❞

00s songs, lip gloss, too much notifications, looney tunes, old cartoon network, earpiercings, passing by one another often, leopard print, white & pink & grey

Thank you for reading.

[aforrestofstuff]

Idk I just like the idea of Garou’s shed a lot. Here are some thoughts/headcanons for how I think he’d live if he had the shed a lot longer.

I know in canon Garou’s shed was pretty much barren and only had his couch and murderboard of heroes, which can likely be attributed to his life in the dojo since I read they’re pretty minimalist and inhabitants aren’t often granted much room, so naturally they can’t own a lot of things; but I think if he had a lot longer to call that place home he would eventually stack the entire thing up with random shit. Like, he’d be really good at finding things like old medical equipment—sanitize needles in jars of bleach all around the living room, hang newly washed bandages up from a clothesline, stack empty first aid kits on top of each other and use it as an accent table for his One Potted Plant, etc. I imagine since the heroes have a dispatch line, he could scrape together enough money for their equivalent to a police scanner. Just shit like that, you know? The place wouldn’t be pretty, but I really do think if he had the time, he’d develop a system and build a genuine home inside. He might even try to decorate, but he’s never done that before.

Now, here’s just some random shit I think he’d do, because even though he’s not necessarily a genius in many facets of life, he certainly is adaptable. He’ll figure it out.

Since his shed is like in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and he’s obviously not paying bills, he wouldn’t have water or electricity. I’d imagine he’d get the bright idea of stealing some from a place nearby with a 1500ft long extension cord just to watch the base no-cable channels on a DLCR TV he dug out of the trash.

He would have animals everywhere. Stray cats take care of the mice and most of the bugs, but the rats are kinda just running around like they own the place. He eventually stops trying to kill them because it’ll be too much effort to clean up, and he can’t afford traps, so he kinda just lives with the little infestation until he suddenly has one as a pet and it’s basically this meme:

While dumpster diving for lunch, he finds a cookbook built around recipes on how to prepare and eat bugs. He thinks, “Oh man, I have bugs!!” And brings it home. That night, there’s a centipede the size of his foot in the shower (that has been repurposed into a closet). He picks it up with his bare hands and throws it under a cup beneath a cinderblock. He tries to flip to the centipede section in the cookbook, but the bug suffocates and hardens before he can find it because he thinks the word centipede starts with an S.

Sometimes he pickpockets for money. Not often, because he can’t tell whether or not the people he’s stealing from are rich or poor half the time and he knows better than anybody how much poverty sucks, but when he does gather enough change to buy something worthwhile, he doesn’t buy food or water or even a space heater. He buys a backpack, so he can haul more shit to and fro the dumpster and his shed. Before that, he would just hold stuff over his shirt.

He’s intentionally over-feeding a wild boar whatever scraps of food he can manage just so he can eat ham in time for Christmas.

The shed is leaky, and it really sucks whenever it gets cold. He’d be sleeping under a pile of old blankets and mis-matched coats atop his couch and then just get woken up by ice-cold water dripping on his forehead. How many colds he’s gotten by hopping on the roof in the dead of night during the winter to make repairs, he cannot count.

He does find a VHS player for free at one point. Someone just left it on the side of the road, so he picked it up and took it home. People throw away tapes all the time, so he spends an entire afternoon sticking them in the player and seeing what’s on them. Most of them are just distasteful porn, which he repurposes the tape for as rope, but some are old movies and TV shows, which he keeps for when he’s too fevered to move and wants entertainment. Some are recordings of people’s weddings, birthday parties, proposals, etc. He also repurposes those. They kinda make him wanna throw up.

He finds an antiquarian sticker book in the trash one day. Coincidentally, the tape holding up the headshots of the heroes on his wall has started to peel off. Now, the whole thing kinda just looks like a tumblr collage.

He hasn’t found any silicone tape in a while, and the leaks start getting worse during the rainy season. Chewing gum becomes a temporary fix; it’s cheap, there’s a lot of it, and people throw away packs all the time. His jaw is always sore, but at least the shed smells like bubblegum.

[sup-hoes-its-me]

I have a Shikamaru request! It’s a bit long winded so dust with me 😊. Shikamaru is assigned to protect reader who is the last of her clan that a lot is not known about. (So he also has the secret mission of finding our more about the clan and their abilities). They end up falling for each-other (of course). And after reader finds out she is pregnant she learns that Shikamaru was meant to learn about her. I’m seeing some angsty fluffy goodness! And hopefully a happy ending. 🥰

Healing You (Shikamaru x Reader)

A/N: Thank you for your request! These long detailed ones are perfect and give me just enough information to give you the perfect story. I skipped the pregnancy part because im not totally comfortable with that...hopefully you still enjoy.

word count: 5500

Shikamaru had been anticipating this mission for a while. The Hokage told him it was of utmost importance to be ready at any time for this clan princess to show up. He was expected to drop all other missions or plans to escort this woman, whoever she was across the country to her homeland deep within Frost country. He wasn’t expecting much, actually he was expecting probably the worst client ever.

For someone to request escort at the drop of a hat like that, someone with enough money to do so as well... Shikamaru could only assume they were an asshole of the highest caliber. Probably some old woman or a spoiled little child, someone he definitely would not get along with for a month long mission just the two of them. He could remember the urgency in Kakashi’s tone when he assigned the mission, the amount of trust behind his words.

Shikamaru walked into the office casually, hands shoved deep in his pants pockets. Kakashi sat there alone at his desk, looking through paperwork and sifting through piles of white sheets, each with different names and faces. He must have thought long and hard about who he was to pick for this mission, the boy concluded.

This was going to be tiresome, he deduced quickly. Another tedious mission.

“Shikamaru, I have an important mission for you,” the man said clearly. “You can look through these files, if you want, but we don’t have any clear information on this one, I’m afraid.” He tossed over a folder full of records. Death receipts, birth certificates, first hand accounts of battles witnessed. He didn’t know what to make of what he was looking at other than a common last name running across the pages.

Hirawa.

“What is this about?” he questioned.

“In about a month's time, possibly longer, possibly shorter, I don’t have an exact date, you will escort Princess Y/N Hirawa, of the hidden Hirawa clan to the Land of Frost.”

“Who’s on my team?”

He shook his head at that question. “No one. This is a solo mission, and I’m entrusting you alone with this. It’s important you keep your mouth shut about all of this until we know it’s safe, for you and the princess.” Safe? Just what kind of mission was this anyway? Obviously it had something to do with this clan, not that he’d ever heard of them. “She has a bounty on her head, quite large at that. But we believe she can become the key to mastering some ninjutsu, particularly medical jutsu.”

“Well, what’s her clan’s kekkei genkai?”

“That’s what we don’t know, and for you to find out. All we know is that there's some dangerous people out there who want this power, and we need to protect her at all costs, you understand,” he stressed, and Shikamaru nodded. This wasn’t that big of a deal, he guessed. Protecting one girl from some rookie bounty hunters, not to mention he was being sent out alone. This was going to be a walk in the park.

The worst part of it all would be putting up with some troublesome girl for an entire month. Making conversation and having to pretend she wasn’t getting on his last nerve. That would tire him the most.

“Rumor has it, she was never able to awaken her ability, so I’m hoping you can help coax it out of her and see what we’re dealing with.”

“Of course. I’ll figure it out.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. You should take the files to look over in your free time, you’ll have lots of it before this mission. I have copies here for myself,” he motioned to another folder on her desk filled to the brim with papers just like the one he was holding. It was strange to have so much information at their fingertips, but not enough to put a description to their kekkei genkai. They must be secretive, similar to how the Uchiha hides their secrets on the stone tablet, or something.

He left the Sixth Hokage’s office and walked away to his home, where he could more closely go over the information in this folder, try to deduce something from all this random information. He would get to the bottom of this, he was a genius after all. Whether he had the help of this woman or not, he would figure it out for the Hokage.

And so, here he stood outside of Kakashi’s office with all his supplies packed in his bag, dressed for a long mission away from home. The princess had arrived. He was to meet her and then immediately they were supposed to leave off to her homeland.

The Anbu officer to his left opened the door, and motioned for him to walk in. So uptight for just a little meeting, was all this security really necessary, he wondered to himself. As he looked into the room, he spotted Kakashi standing along the window behind his desk with a smaller woman at his side, wrapped up in thick robes made of wool, embroidered with thick silver and white yarn.

Admittedly, her clothes looked incredibly expensive. He questioned how she wasn’t sweating bullets with the typical warm weather outside here in Konoha. He was expecting her to turn around, to be this hideous creature.

“Ah, Y/N, it seems your escort has arrived,” Kakashi hummed, placing a soft hand on the woman’s back as she turned around. When he finally got a good look at her face, he was taken aback, nearly enough to throw him off balance. She was decidedly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Wrapped up in those blankets was a young woman, who couldn't be much older than he was, with piercing eyes that immediately cut through his.

Her hair fell just perfectly around her face to frame her features, the soft color suiting her eyes and skin perfectly. Her eyelashes flickered over her eyes a few times as she gazed over at him, and he felt swoon. She had the softest skin he’d ever seen combined with those mesmerizing eyes and the shape of her face which looked like it belonged cradled in his hands.

He felt this inert urge to run in the opposite direction from her, out the room and down the hall, back to home where he could catch his breath. He already knew his cheeks were turning bright red under her stare, and he could tell Kakashi was judging him with those dark eyes of his.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shikamaru Nara,” she hummed, and he felt faint. Even her voice was precious, almost like she was singing. He choked down his breaths, trying to keep his cool the best he could. It was uncharacteristic of him to act this way with a client. He was just her escort, not some pervert. They were going to live together for basically a month, he needed to get a grip on his emotions. “Your Hokage was telling me great things about you.”

“Oh, uh,” he paused, frozen without words to leave his lips, just an empty mind full of her image. He shook his head a bit, eyes now glaring down at the floorboards beneath him. “You too, Princess.”

“Please, just call me Y/N. Princess is just too formal for me,” she told him, waving off the title almost as quickly as it left his mouth. “Kakashi, it was nice getting to know you this morning, I hope to see you and your wonderful village again soon.”

“You’re welcome back whenever you like.”

She rounded the table and approached Shikamaru carefully, eyeing him down as she did so. She took in his appearance and his stance, the emotions she could see radiating off his person from his body language. From the looks of it, he simply appeared flustered and confused. Not exactly the most ideal for the situation at hand, but they would manage. Men usually had a similar reaction when they saw her for the first time, either they were in awe or they were trying to kidnap her.

He nodded in her direction and then to the Hokage before turning around and starting out the door, the girl following closely behind him. He could hear the swishing of her thick robes around her ankles, just barely skimming the floor. He still didn’t know her personality at all, but he wouldn’t mind looking at her once in a while on this trip.

“So, why are you heading to the Land of Frost?” he asked, and she sighed.

“One of the village elders is dying. They believe my kekkei genkai is the only way to reverse the incoming death, and its consequence on my people,” she explained.

“Why doesn’t another one of your clan members do it? Surely the rest of your family lives-”

“There is no one else. I am the last living Hirawa,” she told him simply, and he could sense a bit of ice dripping off her tongue at those words. How could she not be upset recalling the annihilation of her entire clan. “The problem is that I haven’t been able to awaken my kekkei genkai. I’m not sure what they want with a useless Hirawa like me.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about your clan, but calling yourself useless really isn’t-”

“How would you feel, Shikamaru, if you were the only person in the world with the ability to save a human being from their certain death and you couldn’t even activate that gift? You have to understand how that feels for me,” she told him solemnly, her head hung low as she walked toward the gates of the village right beside the boy. People looked at her as she moved through the village, they stared in awe at her clothes and her face and the unique glimmer in her eyes. And she cowered inward, tucking herself into her robes and the fur of her hood even further, away from the prying eyes of this village.

He stayed silent, not really knowing how to respond to what she’d said to him. The sadness and the anger in her tone, deep within her words, was immeasurable. She was in pain, a conflict with herself. He wasn’t going to get into that just yet. They’d only met a few minutes ago.

They left the village together and started on their journey. It was going to be a long month, that’s for sure.

________

It had been a week of walking through the forest already, days of sleeping on the ground beneath the stars, eating rations out of his bag over the fireplace. Originally, he thought this mission would be easy, that she seemed like a normal-ish girl who wouldn’t give him any trouble, but he was wrong.

She was too quiet. It was strange, walking with someone for hours without a single word shared between them. He tried to start up a conversation, and she would reply with one word answers, sometimes if he was lucky, two or three words. She rarely looked at him, choosing to either stare at the ground where she took each step, or up at the stars and the vastness of it all. She was lost in her own mind.

Every night, as they were falling asleep, he could hear her looking over at him, scanning his form for a sign that he was still awake. He would remain still, facing the opposite way on his side, head propped up on his bag. Then, when she thought she was safe, he would hear the sobs run through her weak form. She would shake and quiver, curling in on herself and crying out into the forest for only Shikamaru and the moon to hear.

He felt terrible for her, needless to say. The guilt he felt just from hearing her cries, and knowing her internal struggle was enough to make this trip difficult. His heart hurt for her, as strange as that was to say. Normally, it was easy to remain objective, but with Y/N, it was different. He felt attached. He felt like her problems were also his. It was maddening.

She laid on the ground beside him, the majority of her soup still in her bowl and her water bottle resting at her side. She stared up into the clouds, occasionally, her eyes would slide over to see what he was up to and then she would look back at the sky. “You need to eat. We have a lot of walking until we reach the next town, probably a week’s worth. I can’t carry you if you get too tired,” he told her, pushing her bowl closer to her side.

“You know, Shikamaru, sometimes I wonder why people like you Leaf nin even protect someone like me. What’s the point? I’m useless to you and the enemy,” she muttered hopelessly. He still pushed the soup closer until she sat up and took the bowl into her hands, taking a small sip from the spoon. “I just don’t get it. How can you call me princess when I’m just as normal as the next woman on the street?”

“Listen, I don’t know what anyone else has told you, but that’s a load of bullshit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just because you can’t access your abilities right now doesn’t make you useless. You’re still a person just like everyone else,” he explained, stabbing his spoon into his soup as he found himself getting a little worked up. He couldn’t stand this self-pitying bullshit from her. Yeah, she was sad and all, but she didn’t have to rub it into the wound like this.

She looked surprised at his words.

What did she expect him to say? That she was right and then just abandon her out in the woods? He was beginning to think this girl was just plain stupid.

“It’s just been impossible since the incident to think of anything else. I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she sighed, taking another sip of her now cold soup.

He questioned carefully. “What incident?” He was on a mission after all. To discover her clan secrets and bring them back to the village to study. Even if she was being emotional, he could still gather some intel.

She bit her lip, and looked up to the sky again, blinking back tears from gathering in the corners of her eyes. She took a few deep breaths before explaining herself. “The day my clan was massacred. The day that those people slaughtered my sensei in front of the entire village and then killed my parents.”

He paused, lifting his eyes to look at her. She was crying, as he expected, silent tears dripping from her eyes into her lap. But she was holding strong otherwise, not a falter in her voice or a catch in her breath. She wasn’t even shaking. She was really serious about keeping these emotions private, in the middle of the night where he couldn’t hear or see.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he assured, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine. I should talk about it anyway. I haven’t had a person to talk to in years, you know.” Sitting on her face was the saddest of all smiles, a weak attempt at remaining strong. She wiped at her eyes with her wrist and continued. “I’m not even sure why they wanted us all dead, but it had something to do with the war and my clan’s actions. They were barbaric. They slit the throat of my sensei in town square and we watched her blood drip across town while they carried her head.”

“Oh, damn.”

“I know,” she agreed, “As sick as it is to say, I’m glad they only stabbed my parents with a sword. We used to be royalty, it took them killing an entire army of soldiers to get to the throne room to kill them. I was only a child hiding in the curtains, I had to watch without making a sound. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t even breathe, or they would have killed me too.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s horrific.”

“When they left, it was only me. I had to walk my way to one of the outer villages for help. I was a mess, covered in my parents blood. They’d stolen everything. All the secrets of the clan. I never got the chance to read the sacred texts. I only know from my Sensei the very basics of what we can do.”

He absorbed what she had said, taking in each word. Admittedly, she lived a terrible, horrible life, one to rival Sasuke at that. He asked, “You haven’t been able to retrieve any of the texts, have you?”

“No, unfortunately. That’s why it’s taken me this long to figure out how to unlock my ability. I literally do not know how,” she confessed, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “It feels strange, knowing I have this ultimate healing ability and I can’t even use it to save anyone.”

“Ultimate healing ability?”

“Well, yeah. That’s our kekkei genkai. We can heal basically anything besides death. Blindness, deafness, rotting limbs, in some cases, paralysis. I’m not sure how it works, but that’s what it does. That’s why they want me to come home so desperately. I’m the only one left who can heal her.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he stated bluntly, and she tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“What?”

He reiterated, “You’ll figure out how to use your kekkei genkai. I believe in you. You’re beautiful, smart, and modest, not a fool.”

She found her cheeks begin to heat up at his words, and she leaned back, her eyes catching onto his. “Thank you, Shikamaru. It’s not everyday I get earnest compliments like that.” It was true. Normally, she did get compliments, but not the nice kind. She would often get harrassed on the street by men without brains, or recieve backhanded comments from people of her own village who hated her for what she could not be.

He shook his head, “Well, you should. You’re a strong woman, you just need more faith in yourself. You have almost no self-confidence whatsoever.” He was right about that too. Sad, wasn’t it? “You’re obviously a good person, so be proud of yourself. Not a lot of people could have gone through what you did and still be on the good side to this day.”

“I-” Y/N froze, her eyes growing wide. “Did you hear that?” she asked, her eyes flickering from Shikamaru into the woods. There were voices, soft and quiet voices, but they were still there, hush in the background. He stood up on his feet, and motioned for her to stay down close to the ground.

“Come out, whoever you are.”

And, indeed, a group of men emerged from the forest, at least ten of them. They sauntered up to the pair and the leader smirked. “We’re not here to hurt you, Leaf shinobi. Just hand over the princess and no harm will come to you,” he said, his voice musty and disgusting, like he’d been smoking cigarettes everyday for the past ten years. They knew, clearly, that a leaf shinobi wasn’t just about to abandon their charge and go running for the hills. His request was a joke.

Y/N wasn’t a fighter. She couldn’t help even if she wanted to. She was solely a healer, and even then, her skills were shaky at best. She could only do the most menial and mediocre of work on her patients. Shikamaru was against these men completely alone.

She felt fear creeping up her spine and sending shivers through her body. She barely knew the boy, had only known him for a week or so, but damn, did she like him. He was kind to her, one of the kindest people she’d met in a long time. She wanted him to be safe, to save her and come out on top like the shinobi of the Leaf are supposed to.

He turned around and waved for her to run. “Princess, Imma need you to run. I’ll come find you when it’s safe. Just go.”

She was hesitant to take off, but one stern look from him shot down any thought of staying. The woman gathered up her robes and ran in the opposite direction of the crew and her protector. Immediately after she left, she heard screaming from behind, the shouts of men in pain and men filled with anger. So much yelling. She held her breath, and kept running, running until she could only hear the faint yells of the men. She couldn’t hear Shikamaru. He was far too quiet to have those loud theatrics on the battlefield.

Y/N took cover in the roots of a tree, and just listened, felt what was going on around her. She studied the chakra signatures floating through the air, counting how many men still lived and how many were alive and well. Likewise, she kept close track of Shikamaru’s energy, making sure he was still going.

If he died, she didn’t know what would come of her. Would she be sold off? Murdered? She knew of the unspoken bounty on her head amongst the criminals, and that struck fear in her heart. All she could do was pray for Shikamaru’s survival.

After what seemed like hours but in reality only about 10 minutes, the screams and shouts finally came to a halt. The chakra signatures of most of the men were completely gone, meaning they had died sometime during the battle. Only some remained, and they were weakened severely, probably passed out or bleeding out.

Shikamaru’s alarmed her. It was weak, almost as weak as the rest. She crawled out from under the tree and started back in the direction of the campsite, keeping her head low nearly in a crouch to stay unseen. There was no telling what was happening over there or who was still out here.

When she got to the campsite though, her eyes widened and she nearly screamed. While the rest of the men collapsed on the ground in bloody heaps, Shikamaru lay in the middle of them, bleeding out from a ginormous wound protruding from his side. She fell onto her knees beside his barely breathing form and held her hands over the wound, trying her best to run her chakra through her, but she was weak. Only a faint light emanating from her hands, not enough to come close to saving him.

“Shikamaru? Shikamaru, can you hear me? Please, try to stay awake, okay?” the girl pleaded, resting one of her soft hands on his cheek. He sighed into her touch. It was just as he imagined. Warm and gentle, like the caress of a feather. At least, if he were to die, it would be in the arms of an angel, he decided.

“You need to head back to the Leaf. Tell Kakashi what happened,” he sputtered out, blood leaving his lips and dripping down the sides of his face. “I lived a good life.”

“No, no, no. You are not dying on me. Not happening,” she whispered. She continued to pour her chakra into his wound, not that it was doing anything serious. Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip, trying to keep them from falling, but she couldn’t help it. All these tears plagued her life. Memories that made her cry. All the pressure. All the death. Poor Shikamaru lying here dying after saving her life. “I’m going to save you,” she muttered firmly.

Pressure built up in her chest and she pushed further and further, digging deeper into her chakra reserve. It actually hurt the amount of effort she was putting in. It was exhausting, and after about a minute, she was gasping for breath. “Stop. It’s okay, princess.”

“Dammit, Shikamaru, I told you not to call me princess, “ Y/N shouted, and in that moment, she felt something shift inside her. A well of energy she never knew she had opened up and she felt it being filled not by her own chakra but by the men around her. Her body absorbed every last bit of chakra in their bodies, filling hers completely. When Shikamaru looked up at her, he noticed a slight glow coming from her skin that wasn’t there before.

It seemed she awoke her kekkei genkai.

With all the newfound energy she had, she channelled it into saving Shikamaru. Right in front of her eyes, his wound began to close and blood sunk back into his body. He groaned at the feeling, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. Finally, she had done something great.

And as she watched the last bit of his wound shut and the blood to seep back into his body, she found herself grow lightheaded.

As she was passing out, she heard him calling her name, and the only thing she could do was smile. She did it. She saved him. Her vision went black and sleep overtook her swiftly.

________

After Y/N saved Shikamaru and awoke her kekkei genkai, the boy gathered up both of their belongings, hoisted them over his shoulder, and then carried her in his arms to the next village. She wasn’t waking up anytime soon, he found that was probably a bad side effect of using the ability. It completely drained her. He just knew he had to move before any of those guys woke back up. He was not ready to fight again.

He enjoyed feeling her in his arms, pressed tightly to his chest with her head lolling side to side. Y/N was sweet and cute, with her little, “don’t call me princess” proclamation before saving him. It seemed she was just as much a princess as everyone thought she was, and a powerful one at that. She basically brought him back from the dead, and he would be grateful for his entire life for what she’d done for him.

The two of them rested for the night in a village inn just a couple miles away before waking up the next morning and setting off with a new bounce in her step toward your homeland where she was sure she could save the village elder now. He watched as the girl walked eagerly in front of him, swinging her robes by her sides and letting her hair loose instead of a tight braid.

This side of her, it was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. Maybe, he found himself harboring just a tiny crush on the girl who saved his life, the girl who took his breath away when they first met. Maybe he liked her a lot. It was pointless to have such feelings for a girl he would probably never meet again after dropping her off in her homeland.

But he could enjoy his time now, with the girl of his dreams at his side.

He found himself wanting more time with her. Much more time. He knew they only had about a week before they arrived in the Land of Frost, and it was depressing him. He wanted her to come back to the village with him and live there, just so he could see her face everyday and hear that sing-song voice run off her tongue.

Was that so much to ask for? Well, yes, but he still wanted it…

They found themselves stopped for the night or two in a village on the coast. She was tired from all the walking and sleeping in the grass. She was willing to spend a few dollars to have a nice bed to sleep in for the night. She booked a room at one of the inns in town and collapsed into the mattress in the room, throwing her robes to the side and cuddling into the comforter. It had been so long since she was living in such comfortable conditions.

He took a seat beside her and pulled out a book, flipping to the most recent page and diving in. He was more than happy to finally rest. He was lazier than she was, after all. They had been walking for almost a month now, he was tired of it. The only thing that kept him going was seeing her smile every now and then, especially the ones directed at him, or in response to something he said.

Something about those smiles just made him feel good inside. It was sickening. These mushy, gushy feelings he was having. He was beginning to think he might be falling for the girl, like, falling in love. He was disturbed. Was he really that weak to a pretty face, soft hands, and a warm heart?

“Shikamaru?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll be home in a week, and you’ll have to go back to the Leaf Village,” she said. He nodded. At that point, they would go their separate ways and it would all be over, this friendship they had. He’d never felt so torn about a mission until now.

He replied casually, “Yeah. Time flies, huh?”

She held her breath for a moment, thinking over her next words very carefully. She’d actually been pondering when she was gonna tell him over the last few days, thinking over every way the scenario could play out. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to leave you, Shikamaru,” she confessed, finally letting go of the breath she was holding.

He raised a brow, setting down his book and turning to face her. “What do you mean?”

“Well...it’s just that your Hokage seems to really like me, and I don’t really have a home anymore with my clan gone,” she mumbled, twiddling her fingers in her lap. “I was thinking maybe after I heal the elders and the village that I could go home with you instead. Live in the leaf village.”

He just looked at her. Had all his longing been for nothing? Could she really mean it? Coming home with him? Could his future really involve seeing her every day, introducing her to his best friends, and healing his people when they were injured?

“I mean, if you don’t think it’s a good idea, though, I totally get it-”

“No! I-I love that idea, actually.”

“Really?”

“Would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”

He watched as her lips curled into a bright smile and she clasped her hands together. “Shikamaru, I’m so happy. You and the other Leaf nin are the only people to show me any kindness in a long time. I get to go home to people that will care about me.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty good at that back in the Leaf. Caring, that is.”

She fell back against the bed and sighed, curling up in the sheets once again. He watched as she smiled into the covers and closed her eyes, relishing in this feeling of newfound freedom and happiness, of the hope she found in him and the village. Despite finding women troublesome most of the time, he was willing to go through trouble for her. He felt like he’d do just about anything for this girl.

So unlike him. Tch. Get a grip, Shika.

Her next words had him melting like putty in her hands though. He just couldn’t help it.

"I'm glad you were assigned this mission with me. You helped me awaken my abilities, and I think it was fate that brought us together for that to happen," she sighed. "This meeting, you and I, it was always meant to be. I'm sure of it now."

"Maybe you're right. I wouldn't know," he replied.

It was quiet for a while, just her lost in her own dreams, her own thoughts. Her eyes trailed over to him, and she just knew she was swoon. With his lazy grin and his thoughtful gaze. It was so obvious to her now.

She confessed, “I think I like you. As more than just a friend, Shikamaru. I know I probably shouldn’t be telling you this considering I still need you to escort me to the village and all, and you might not want me to go back to the Leaf with you now, but I just-”

He couldn’t wait anymore. He was going crazy. Finally, he kissed her.

She felt his hands resting on either side of her head and his lips pressed carefully to hers, testing the waters. She brought her own hands up to cup his own, bringing him closer and deeper into the kiss. She smiled and sighed, enjoying the feeling of pure bliss. It had been so long since she felt something so good. Something so sweet.

“You like me too?”

“You’re dumb as hell.”

And he kissed her again. And again. And maybe a couple more times after that.

[bibliocratic]

muddle along or: the Pokemon / TMA crossover I’ve been promising @speakerunfolding for AGES jonmartin early S4

Jon considers the knapsack left for him.

Exhaustion is already feasting on any clarity he might have obtained in the near quiet. His body stiff, unused to the casual labour of his bones. The storage room, its shelves overburdened, the air vents popping like cracked knuckles, has gained nothing in his absence except a resurgence of dust and, in a dismal corner, a pile of boxes and a suitcase. A pathetic truncated shrine to his thirty odd years of living.

They moved his possessions here, when his rent went unpaid, when his water bills and council tax and internet payment reminders piled up like demanding snowdrift on his mucky welcome mat. Mutely, he glances over the hastily sellotaped boxes that now form his packaged-up life with all the distance that six months of bad dreams have afforded him.

He wonders who packed up his kitchenware, despairing at the mismatched cutlery harvested from student halls and charity-shop finds; clucked their teeth at the bread freckling mouldy in the barren landscape of his fridge; folded his clothes neatly into the suitcase he always kept stuffed under his unmade bed, even pairing up his socks; who took the books off his shelves in the belief he might thumb through them again one day.

He wonders if it was Martin.

Basira gave him the knapsack some hours ago. When he’d found some semblance of normalcy in the dull weight of a sandwich coating his stomach, dressed in clothes that now hang like rags off a coat hanger, sat at the table in the otherwise empty staff room with the heat of a cup of tea cactus-prickling his palms.

“He asked if you’d look after them,” she’d said. The strap of the bag held securely in the jaw of her Absol. “While he’s – well, you know…” She waves an exasperated done-with-it hand that manages to express a multitude of emotions that refract and merge like the morphing shades of a bruise. “Doing whatever the hell it is he’s doing. Or he thinks he’s doing.”

Jon wishes he knew.

He sits cross-legged in front of the storage room door, a sharp-boned barricade, thrumming like a struck tuning fork with the thought that even here, he will not be safe.

Gardevoir is a heavy weight against his shoulder. She’s quieter than he remembers, solemn and sombre in her new form. She used to demand being lifted up when she was Ralts, her flat red horns digging into his chest and leaving impressions, scrabbling down to shelter half-behind his legs when strangers approached. He left for the Unknowing and she’d been Kirlia, her face set and her cries insistent and infuriated, trying to push her Pokeball into his hand to make him bring her with them. Tim hadn’t asked where she was, when they all piled into the rental car, Houndoom taking up one of the seats in the back but snarling when Basira suggested putting her in her ball.

Jon doesn’t know when she evolved. It pains him, a dull-knife strike of thought, another wave against his tide-bashed flood barriers, to have slept through such a moment in her life when every other milestone they shared together.

“Now is a good a time as any, I suppose?” he asks her. His voice traces above a whisper. His Abra has calmed now, drained down from a difficult and teary reunion, and is now breathing deep and slow, curled into the port of his crossed legs. His three-fingered hands are still clenching the fabric of Jon’s shirt.

Gardevoir nods. Then gives him a nudge and a look when it seems as though he’s stalling, when he must be bleeding out apprehension like watercolours seeping through paper.

“Can’t get anything past you now, huh,” he says. She smiles, fond and he manages a short smile back, and it is almost, almost like it was before.

The bag is old, its original function probably for a laptop of some kind. The plasticky outer skin of it has rubbed away, flaking to mesh at the edges, the piping worn down to wires. Jon folds back the front of the bag, and inside there are four Pokeballs, the basic and cheapest red-and-white models. Jon had worked a thankless summer job at a beach-side amusement arcade to save up the money to get Ralts a customised ball, and had done similar when Abra came along a few years later.

To the side of the Pokeballs, ziplocked and labelled, there is a small forest of freezer bags bulging with berries and treats and care equipment. In a plastic pocket, there are precisely written instructions pertaining to each Pokemon and their requirements, and Jon’s throat tightens unexpectedly to see Martin’s looping joined-up handwriting, to see words that seem penned by someone who doesn’t expect to be coming back.

Gardevoir makes a low noise next to him. Her arm alighting on his, a solid weight, grounding. Jon clears his throat and takes out the Pokeball nearest the top, pushing the button on the front so the size balloons to fill his palm.

Most people have one Pokemon, maybe two, unless they’re involved in competitive breeding and training. When Abra came along, he remembers his gran remarking on the upkeep, how it would be his responsibility to feed and care for and train them, and it hadn’t been the cheapest venture but Jon had born the expense gladly.  It doesn’t surprise him that Martin has amassed so many in comparison to the norm.

At lunch one day years ago, the weather nipping frost-touched, they’d sat outside a cramped cafe because there’d been no seats indoors, and Martin had confessed that he was always taking them in. Thinking back, Jon knows that Martin was attempting to keep the conversation buoyant, coaxing him away from deeper, darker waters. Jon remembers being irritated, sore-eyed with sleeplessness, his spine strung with paranoia.

“My lost causes, Mum called them,” Martin had said, and his voice had tried for a levity that landed without cushioning. He’d torn off a bit from the end of his panini to feed a hopeful-looking Pidove pecking expectantly around their feet. The cause of the conversational turn, Martin’s newest acquisition, had sat grumpily mewling on the other man’s knee, wriggling and sniping as he tried to feed them some medication he’d got from the vet. Despite himself, Jon had been distracted from miring thoughts of Gertrude by watching Martin’s charade unfold, the man making a show of giving up with a theatrical sigh to scratch the Nidoran behind the ears in a show of defeat, being careful of their spikes. The Nidoran had headbutted his hand whenever his motions slowed to stopping, and Martin had used the distraction to fold a chorizo slice he’d pulled from his panini around the pill, which the Nidoran had happily snaffled from his fingers, gulping it down before returning to demand affection.

“They’ll be all healed up within the week,” Martin had continued, plastering over the continued lull with his chattering. “I’ve taken in a few Nidorans before, they tend to be pretty hardy.” He had scratched under the Nidoran’s chin as his words ebbed with the nudging of an undemanding tide.

Jon had picked at his sandwich as Martin had fold him about hiding Pidgeys and Swablus in an old shoebox under his bed, lined with the nesting material of some of his t-shirts donated to the cause. A chipped-edge bowl borrowed from the kitchen brimming with water and his own early team of Pokemon keeping them company while their wings healed in their splints before they were strong enough to leave again.

These four Pokeballs in the knapsack aren’t just random strays. They’re Martin’s Pokemon. The ones that never left him, the ones that he’s raised and doted upon and taken worriedly to the Pokecentre over every cough and sniffle and fever.

And for the meantime, they’re Jon’s.

Jon presses the release button on the first ball.

There is a chittering surprised coo as an Oddish materialises in a buzz of light and reforming matter.  They reform to stand a little higher than Jon’s ankle, only to fold their leaves half over their eyes at the unkindness of the halogen strip light. They totter when they take a step, tumbling to sitting with an affronted noise before, with a determined heft, they rock themselves up to standing again. Jon’s seen Martin’s Oddish before, approaching every walk around the assistant’s office space like a tightrope. Tim had bought them a little plant pot as a novelty Christmas gift once, and they’d unironically loved it, hopping into it cosily and getting specks of soil all over Martin’s desk.

Their leaves are poked through with ragged little holes, like they’ve been nibbled away, the green tinged in places to a sickly yellow. In the bag there is a vial of luminous blue medicine, complete with dropper and application instructions. It’s a stress thing, he dimly remembers Martin had once explained to him. It’s like an eczema, of a sort, that afflicts Grass-types, but it affects Oddish’s balance when it flares up.

The Oddish looks at Jon. They don’t have a neck as such, so they lean their whole bulb-like body backwards on their stumpy legs to study Gardevoir, who gives a reassuring blink. They glance around the storage room and its uninspired treasures of boxes and the unpromisingly weak-seeming metal frame of the cot, with a fretful shake of their leaves. They’re expecting to see someone else.

“Hello,” Jon says. He clears his throat, attempting to present a friendly face, to avoid the grimace he senses forming at his discomfort, his presentation to a critical audience that is already finding him wanting. “I’m… well, I’m Jon. You’ve probably seen me before, I’m um… I’m a f-friend of Martin’s. He’s, well, he’s not here at the moment. But he asked me to look after you. While he’s – he’s away.”

Oddish blinks their beady round red eyes. Their leaves wave uncertainly with the lazy swish of palm fronds. They coo again, a longer sound, plaintive and stretched out in melancholy. They take the opportunity to look around again, a full-body swivel that has them unbalanced, but Gardevoir leans down with a careful hand to steady them upright.

Jon watches them amble off to study their surroundings. Every so often crying out in a searching noise. Gardevoir keeps an eye on them as they rootle around in one of the boxes they can reach.

The next few releases are equally unsuccessful. Skitty reforms only to barrel under the cot as a pink-and-white blur, slinking further back with his tail swishing furiously whenever Jon addresses him. One undamaged ear twitches anxiously. The next Pokemon fails to materialise at all, refusing to leave their ball.

This was a mistake. Martin should have known better, known him enough to see that he would be no good at this, his skills in offering comfort atrophied. He can barely take care of himself, these days. Never mind additional charges who are scared, who need reassurance that is rendered rusty in his throat.

He reaches out to cradle the last ball in his cupped palms. He knows who is inside. The youngest of Martin’s acquisitions, and as far as Jon was aware, full-on adverse to getting inside a Pokeball. Their favoured mode of travel was Martin, using him as a climbing frame while he attempted to work, kicking their little feet against his forehead, clinging giggly to his mop of hair to get a better view, squealing shrill and disruptive and delighted when Martin would playfully shake his head to rock them. He thinks with the uncertainty that memory offers him, that Sasha had loved them, lifted them and pretending to throw them while they chattered and babbled, snuck them berries when Martin wasn’t looking. Jon has paid ear to more than one lecture from Martin on nutrition and proper feeding times and sugar levels. They might have played with Sasha’s own Pokemon, like they had tottered after Houndour’s short and wagging tail when she was out of her ball, like they had ran after Skitty to join in games, but that memory has been scratched from recollection like initials scored out of tree bark.

They were by nature vocal, rambunctious, unthinking and unheedful of danger, a child really, and Martin had been forever apologising when Jon would find them where they weren’t meant to be, carrying them back cautiously and carefully to Martin’s fretful hands. He thinks Martin had thought that they had irritated him. It hadn’t been that. They had been so small, smaller than they should have been for their species, the runt of some litter abandoned or lost by their parent or cracked and emerging blinking from their egg over-early. They had been so curious, and the world of the archives had grown increasingly unsafe around them. Jon had worried, in his own poorly expressed way.

He presses the button, and aims at the ground. Martin’s Togepi manifests in a fizz of red light and sound crackling like champagne.

They turn around with a confused noise.

Jon gets the chance to voice an awkward, low-pitched ‘hello’ before they take one look at him and their face clenches upset, breath starting to bubble with sobs.

“Oh, oh, nonono, hey,” Jon says, scooping them up into his hands. Abra is dislodged, wakes up startled and teleports a few feet away with a ‘pop’ of displaced air. “It’s… nonono, shush, it’s alright.”

Big messy tears fall out of screwed up eyes. Hitching sobs lengthen into wails. Jon looks frantically at Gardevoir as he rocks and shushes the bawling Pokemon against his chest in a way Martin was so much better at.

Martin would know what to do, what to say. How all this could work out for the best. But Martin isn’t here.

Jon’s own eyes dampen.

“Shshshsh,” he croaks thickly. “It’s – it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the worst of the tears. He strokes the top of Togepi’s head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Jon repeats.

Many hours later, Jon wakes up, cotton-mouthed and his back vengeful for the position he’s slept in. His legs, still crossed, have degraded to numbness that he’ll pay for as soon as he wants to stand. In his lap, he sees the matryoshka doll set up that’s occurred, Togepi exhaling with little whistling breaths into Abra’s chest, Abra’s face planted against Jon’s shirt. Skitty has emerged from his defensive fort under the cot to coil into a ball of heat, curled up in the crook of Abra’s overhanging tail. Gardevoir is half-awake in that dozing but alert way she has, and she must have turned off the light in the room because it’s dark except for the emergency glow from the fire-exit sign that casts the walls and floor in an unsettling green. Jon sees the husk of an opened Pokeball, the shadow of something small and yellow crouched on Gardevoir’s shoulder, and something inside him eases, just a little bit.

Oddish is looking up at him from the floor. Jon moves the only hand he has that’s not squashed under Abra, and when he sets it down they alight with an unsteady gait and he transfers them to the higher terrain of his knee. He rubs a careful finger along their leaves until they sit, their head nodding as they struggle to stave off sleep, although they still glance around with uncertain eyes.

The room has dropped colder. Oddish shivers along with Jon.

“I know,” Jon says. “I miss him too.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By My Side (Part 1)

Summary: While at home one night, the reader, an actress, is almost kidnapped and at her friend’s suggestion she hires Jensen as her bodyguard. While the pair doesn’t get along, an incident at the reader’s new home leads her and Jensen to taking a drastic measure...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,900ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, attempted kidnapping, drugging

A/N: There will be no taglist for this series. Please check out the masterlist for posting dates/times. Enjoy!

_________

“Get the fuck off!” you said, kneeing the man that was halfway through dragging you down your stairs. You threw a punch and a kick, swinging more than a few times before the grip on you fell away and you booked it for the front door. You sprinted outside and down the driveway, dashing across the street and banging on your neighbor’s door. 

A light came on and you glanced over your shoulder, spotting the guy dressed in black and wearing a mask jog to the end of your driveway.

“Shit, shit,” you said, a strong arm grabbing you and yanking you inside before you could even turn back around. The door slammed shut after you and you took a deep breath, your neighbor standing there in his boxers, saying something to his wife in the background. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” said Jared. You straightened up and nodded, his eyes going wide. 

“Gen! Tell them she needs an ambulance too,” he said.

“I’m fine,” you said as he walked you to his kitchen and sat you down at the counter. Gen was in there, on the phone with the police it sounded like, as Jared went to a cupboard. He pulled out a red bag and then was walking back over with a wad of bandages, holding it up to your forehead. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said, pressing your hand to your head, seeing the half secured zip tie stuck on your other wrist. There were sirens in the distance and you shut your eyes.

“Hey, no sleeping. You might have a concussion,” he said.

“I’m not sleeping,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” he said, the sirens getting louder before there were flashing lights in the window. Gen walked over to the front door, letting the police in. About four officers came inside, one of them immediately coming over to you.

“What’d he look like? How many?” he asked.

“Uh, all in black, with a mask. He was white I think from what I could tell. Maybe six foot, average build, strong. It was just the one as far as I know. Last I saw him he was at the end of the driveway before my neighbor let me in his house,” you said.

“You two, call it in for backup and start looking. Jones, get a full statement from these three. Start with the vic. Medics will want to look at that head,” he said. “Which house is yours?”

“Right across the street. Red front door,” you said. He left and the other cop in there pulled out a plastic bag from his back pocket.

“I need to cut that off for evidence,” he said, glancing at your wrist.

“Should we do anything?” asked Jared as the cop made a cut and bagged the plastic tie.

“I would keep pressure on that wound for the moment,” he said, writing on the bag and taking out a notepad and pen. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“I was asleep less than ten minutes ago in my bed and I woke up to someone touching my arm and I found that tie thing on me and the guy tried grabbing my other arm but I rolled away. I got caught up in the covers while I was running away so he caught up to me in the hall outside my bedroom and I just started hitting what I could and then he tried to pull me downstairs and I hit him some more and then he let go and I ran over here.”

“How’d you sustain the head injury?” he asked.

“Well he was hitting me too when I started fighting back,” you said. “I was half-awake.”

“Okay. Sir, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions now.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey,” said Jared, setting a cup of tea down at his breakfast table. He rubbed your back and you sighed. “Rough night huh?”

“At least I don’t have a concussion,” you said, touching your butterfly bandages on your head.

“Police said your alarm wasn’t on.”

“So this is my fault?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t say that. I am saying that you and Gen have a very popular show together and if she didn’t have me around, I’d want her to have a bodyguard, maybe even full time,” he said.

“I have had this conversation with my manager multiple times. I’m not getting a bodyguard. For events and conventions, fine, I’ll have one. At work? In my life? No way,” you said.

“Y/N, you know I used to be in the army. Then I was a cop. Then I was on a SWAT team before I retired to become a stay at home dad,” he said.

“Yes. You’re an adorable scary badass. What’s your point?” you asked.

“When I worked SWAT, I worked a a few kidnapping cases. The honest truth is sometimes we don’t find you until it’s too late or we never do. It’s not like a movie. It’s not like your guys show and someone swoops in. No one shows up out of the blue to save you. You save yourself or you don’t get saved. Rarely do we get you out of that situation.”

“Again, what’s your point?”

“My point is whoever that person was, when they come back because they will come back, Y/N, and when they do, they’re not going to be that sloppy. They may drug you. They may knock you out. They could do a number of things but your chances of getting way again would be extraordinary. I love ya and I’ll always protect you. But next time, I might not be able to stop something bad from happening. You alone over there...I wouldn’t know until it’s too late.”

You were quiet, playing with the tea bag in your drink as he drank from his own mug.

“I don’t want a stranger coming into my home,” you said.

“Y/N, Gen and I want you to stay here for as long as you-”

“I meant a bodyguard, Jare. I don’t want somebody I don’t know to start coming into my life and controlling it.”

“I have a friend from my army days who does that kind of work. He’s between jobs at the moment. I’ll vouch for him,” he said.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice on this, are you,” you said.

“Gen and I are moving. A bigger place,” he said. “We think it’s a good idea if you had a change of scenery too.”

“You think she’s in danger too?”

“We don’t know but she’s five months pregnant. We don’t want to risk anything,” he said. “It’s just a thought.”

“Can...can I stay over here a few days? While I figure out what I want to do?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N.”

Two Weeks Later

“I like the new place,” said Jared as he helped you carry in the last box. 

“It’s uh, a bit big,” you said. “But the owner wanted to sell fast and I wanted out of the other one fast so it worked out.”

“Seems like a lot of space for one person,” said the man walking in through the open front door. He was in a pair of dark jeans and a blazer, a tee shirt underneath. You stepped behind Jared but he chuckled. “Really Jare? Didn’t mention I’d be stopping by?”

“Y/N, this is my friend Jensen. I told you about him. You said you were interested in meeting him,” said Jared.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, holding out a hand.

“Y/N please,” you said as you shook it.

“I prefer to keep things professional,” said Jensen. “It’s easier that way. So, this is the new place, hm? Which room will be mine?”

“There’s a guest suite over on the first floor you can use,” you said.

“Where’s the master?”

“Upstairs.”

“Preferably I’d like to be in a room closer to yours,” he said.

“Fine. Take the guest room upstairs,” you said. “This is just a test run remember.”

“My contract says this is a six month test run,” he said as he looked around. “I see you’re still moving in so perhaps we can go over some of our new procedures in the morning.”

“Sure,” you said. 

“I’ll move in my belongings then,” he said. “I don’t have much.”

“Mhm,” you said. He nodded and headed back outside, Jared catching the look you gave him.

“What?” he asked.

“He’s gonna be a joy to live with,” you muttered.

“He’s quiet until you get to know him. I wouldn’t have recommended him if I didn’t trust him. He’s saved my life before. I know he’ll have your back,” said Jared.

“Yeah,” you said, his phone going off. “Jared, go. I know you’re already late for the baby checkup.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I only have boxes left to unpack anyways. Go on. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said. He gave you a wave on the way out, leaving you to stare at the pile of boxes sitting on your kitchen floor. You cracked your back and started to work, catching Jensen move in a few duffel bags of his own. He left and wandered around outside eventually, allowing you to try and get the essentials all stored away.

By the time it was seven, you were exhausted but your bedroom, bathroom and kitchen were all set up. You plopped down on the couch, closing your eyes. They blinked open when you felt a presence standing over you.

“I’ve done a review of the property. I’d like to have an upgraded security system installed tomorrow,” he said.

“Whatever. Just put it on the card my manager gave you,” you said.

“I’d also like to consider hiring an additional person to monitor the system at some point. They can be remotely based,” he said.

“Like I said, whatever,” you said, closing your eyes again.

“I assume I have access to use the kitchen as I desire,” he said.

“No smoking. No drugs. No random hookups you bring here and as long as you don’t bug me and stay away from my ice cream, we’ll be fine,” you said.

“I can agree to that. As long as you follow my rules, we’ll also be fine,” he said. You laughed and sat up, walking to the kitchen to find your phone. “Do you think that’s funny?”

“I think the fact you think you’re going to be making rules in my home that I paid for is very funny,” you said. You took the phone to check on the pizza and wings you ordered for yourself, Jensen walking over and stopping in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“You are paying me a very large sum of money to keep you safe. If you don’t listen to what I say then I can’t guarantee your safety,” he said.

“Let me get something clear. I’m doing this to appease my friends and manager. Do whatever you want around here but don’t start telling me how to live my life,” you said.

“I took this job as a favor,” he said, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the countertop behind him. You scowled and he walked forward, forcing you to back up until your back hit a wall.

“Dude, backoff.”

“Pretend I’m that man that tried to take you before. What do you do? Right here and now. What’s your plan?”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying to brush past him and getting a light shove into the wall for it. You glared at him but he held his ground, pushing you again when you moved.

“I’m serious. Tell me what your plan is. Better yet, show me,” he said. 

“I don’t care if you are Jared’s friend. I am this close to punching you. Move now.”

“I said show me.”

You narrowed your eyes and brought up your knee to hit him in the groin. He pushed it away before it connected though and you were off balance, Jensen grabbing you and yanking you away from the wall, putting you in a headlock and tugging your arms behind your back.

“Don’t go for the most obvious move in the world,” he said. “Now that didn’t go how you wanted it to. What’s the plan now?”

“Get off,” you growled, trying to stomp your foot down on his but he moved it back and kicked out your ankle, making you fall back against him. He picked you up and you started moving your legs, Jensen suddenly dropping you down onto the hardwood floor. You hit your knee and winced, a hand suddenly grabbing the back of your shirt. “Alright! I get the fucking point.”

“Do you?” he said, squatting down beside you. You tried pushing his hand away but it tightened and you tried throwing a punch, his grip almost too hard now and his free hand easily blocking the hit. “You have no plan. You’re too small and too weak to overpower someone. You can’t afford to have no plan. The thing is, when it’s real, you’ll be panicking and you’ll have no time at all to think of one.”

“Stop touching me unless you want me to call the cops on you,” you spat out. He moved his hand away and stood, staring back at you.

“You need to do what I tell you if you want to stay safe. I will teach you what to do if you’re in that situation for whatever reason. But the rules keep that situation from happening in the first place. Understand?” he said.

“Understand that you are fired as of now. Pack up your shit and get out of my house,” you said. You got to your feet and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m your boss and I can fire you whenever I want. Get out.”

“How on earth Jared is friends with a someone like you I will never understand,” he said. He headed upstairs and the doorbell rang. You forced a smile for the delivery guy and took your food back to the kitchen, digging in before Jensen was even tossing his first bag down the stairs. You rolled your eyes and were on your third slice by the time he was walking downstairs.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” you said. He shot you a dirty look, his head cocking as he set his bag down. “Oh now what?”

“You look really pale,” he said, walking over to you. “Your pupils are huge.”

“You know what else? You are so not as hot as you think you are,” you said, reaching for another piece of chicken before he smacked your hand. “You are this close to me calling...someone.”

Your head got dizzy for a second, Jensen grabbing your arms and setting you down on the ground.

“I feel funny,” you said, tipping over and resting against him. “Really, really funny.”

“You just got drugged,” he said, using his phone to dial a number. “No more takeout. Got it? Obviously this person knows you moved. I want to put someone at the house full time.”

“I’m gonna fall asleep now,” you said, shutting your eyes.

“No, nope, try to stay awake,” he said. You hummed and he grabbed your face. “Y/N. Try.”

“You’re really pretty for a grumpy grump,” you said.

“I thought I wasn’t hot. Just stay awake for me, Y/N,” he said.

Twenty minutes later you were in the ER with an IV in your arm and feeling a whole lot of crappy. Jensen said something to a doctor before he walked over to the stall you were in and stood by the bed.

“Hey. Police are at your house. Neighbor said they saw a silver pickup parked down the street. Seemed shady. It was gone by the time they got there,” he said.

“Course it was,” you mumbled.

“You more with it again?” he asked.

“Yeah. Feel really tired is all,” you said.

“Well I called your manager. He said he’d be here soon so I’m gonna head out,” he said.

“Huh?” you said, sitting up as he started to leave. “Wait.”

“Last I remember, you fired me. Nothing has changed,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist, the effort taking more energy than you were anticipating. He didn’t shrug you off, instead gently setting your hand back in your lap and pushing you to lay back down.

“You should rest. There’s a cop outside the room,” he said.

“Stop. Just...sit down,” you said. He sighed but sat on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow. “How could somebody already know where I moved? Hardly anyone knows.”

“You rent a moving truck?” he asked.

“Yeah. Movers did the furniture,” you said. He shrugged and you shut your eyes. “The movers?”

“No, probably not them. But that truck probably has GPS for mileage tracking and if this person has your credit card info, they could figure it out,” he said. “The food thing probably happened back at the restaurant you ordered from. Somebody slips in the backdoor, puts some stuff on your food and slips back out.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Let’s pretend earlier didn’t happen. Please,” you said. “I can’t...I can’t be alone right now and something feels really off about this whole thing.”

“This whole thing has felt off the second Jared told me about it. Tonight just further proved that point,” he said.

“You were in the army longer than he was, right?”

“He decided to retire, go be a cop. I stayed in. Worked on a few more specialized skills a bit longer before I left and got in this line of work,” he said.

“I’m going to assume you know what you’re doing then.”

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing. I can’t guarantee anything but I can give you some pretty damn good odds,” he said. He stared at you for a moment and looked you over. “You’re smarter than the stereotypical actress I pegged you for.”

“It had to have been someone on my team or that’s close to me in order to know that I was moving,” you said. “Or else the person never would have known to look today.”

“Someone that knows your go to takeout place too. You need to be extremely careful about who you trust right now,” he said.

“I trust Jared and Gen,” you said.

“I trust the guy with my life. I’d trust him with yours. Gen is fiesty when you piss her off but you’re her best friend. They didn’t do this.”

“Your expert opinion, what’s my next move?” you asked. He rubbed the back of his neck and made a face. “Jensen.”

“Ideally? You go off grid. I mean off grid, off grid. Middle of nowhere, no one knows where exactly. Cut yourself off and it’d give us more time to figure out who this person is and what exactly it is they want with you. If they’re as close as we think they are, they’ll find a way to sneak in again and next time, it might be my food that’s drugged. It’s a big risk to go back to the house.”

“I can’t go be alone though. What if they did find me somehow?” you asked.

“I said off grid. I didn’t say alone,” he said. “It’s an extreme approach, I’ll give you that. But it gives me more time to work on this and it’ll keep you safe.”

“Why not hire a bunch of guys to stay around me all the time?”

“Because you’re still in danger if you stay in LA and I don’t have the ability to check that many guys out. I got guys I know I can trust but they’re all over the country and the only other one here is Jared and Gen needs him. No offense but she’s got a kid with another on the way. More bodies means more priority,” he said.

“No, no. Please keep them safe too. If it’s a fan of the show, they could be in the same situation,” you said.

“I’m not going to try and tell you what to do because obviously, you weren’t a fan of me doing that before. But if you want to be able to sleep safely at night, we need to go, just you and me. Jared and Gen can know but that’s it and I mean that’s it. I can secure a safe place and everything we’ll need. But it’s going to be a drastic lifestyle change.”

“How drastic?”

“Like no internet and our electricity will run off a generator drastic.”

“If I stay here?”

“I give it a week tops before they try something again,” he said.

“We wrapped two weeks back and since Gen’s pregnant, we aren’t slated to start filming for another seven months. I’ll have to cancel some events but if I was ever going to go off grid, now’s the time to do it.”

“I will get it arranged. Do not speak a word of this to anyone,” he said.

“Jensen,” you said as he stood. “What was that back at the house? You acting all aggressive like that?”

“The last client I had, I was lenient, never taught them anything, let them push me around and dictate how I worked. They got put in a bad situation because of that. If you don’t take this seriously, then what’s the point of me being here.”

“Well wherever we go, I’m gonna need a few things. Women stuff,” you said.

“Make a list and tomorrow, pack a bag,” he said. “I want us on the road tomorrow night. I don’t care what you tell your team about why you’ll be MIA. Just tell them something so we don’t get a missing persons report on you.”

“Alright,” you said, Jensen nodding and starting to leave. “Wait. Where are you going?” 

“I need to start preparing. Like I said, there’s a police officer by the door.”

You stared at him and he took a deep breath.

“How about he stays in the room with you until we’re ready to go home and get what we need, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Hang tight. When you’re up for it, we’ll get out of here.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[ikroah]

Whiskey river, take my mind, don't let her memory torture me. Whiskey river, don't run dry, you're all I got, take care of me. —“Whiskey River,” Shotgun Willie (1973)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #15 - Vegas Outskirts

Collaborative Issue! Guest Colorist: @malpaislegate​ / @socksual-innuendos​

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

MAN that’s gotta hurt!! Volume 2 kicks off with a bang, literally if you count the gunshot and honorifically if you count Socks’ knockout color job on this issue. Look at those lovingly rendered bullet wounds!! Muah!!!

It’s been a relief having a month off from the comic as I handled a bunch of other things but there’s a lot to look forward to in Volume 2, as you can probably tell from that very forboding fist clench at the end there. Will Agnes and Cass get the revenge they’re looking for? Can they make it big in Vegas? Will it keep right on a-hurtin’? Find out next ish as Cass leads Agnes to meet the first of their new “friends.”

Original Pencils:

The pencils for this issue are like an autopsy report of all the things that can go wrong with your art if you don’t plan ahead and pay attention. Listen, friend, to my tale of woe, and learn from my mistakes so they don’t become yours!

First, you can see a lot of places where there’s floating objects, empty backgrounds, and incomplete heads. Part of this is because I always intended to just copy and paste repeated elements across each panel instead of drawing them multiple times, but other times I was forced to just because of my lack of planning. The top three panels on page two, for example, required me to draw the background I’d use for them on a separate page.

Second, you can probably tell that I actually had to flip the two raiders around in the final lineart because I forgot to keep the hands their were holding their guns in consistent—and since I couldn’t flip the middle panel on the second page without ruining the composition, I decided to flip all of their other appearances so that they’d be lefties. I doubt you even can seamlessly wield those particular guns left-handed.

Third, the size of the cart that Agnes and Cass are kneeling behind changes CONSTANTLY and is dramatically oversized from the third page onward. After inking these pages, it took a lot of work to correct the inks and shrink that cart in each panel, but fortunately it came out looking good.

And finally, I completely redrew the second panel on the fifth page because it wasn’t until I had already handed he pages off to my colorist that I realized having a second profile shot of Cass so soon after a first one was just...redundant and lazy-looking. So I went back to my sketchbook and whipped up a much more unique, striking angle (I also just wasn’t satisfied with the quality of my art on that panel, so I’m very glad I redrew it). But again, my failure to plan ahead bit me in the ass and my redraw attempt wound up taking up a lot more space than I thought it would, so after inking it I had to basically surgically remove it from the other inks.

I’ll be honest with you folks: part of the reason that I work in such simple, thick, high-contrast lineart is because it’s very easy to make corrections and adjustments with stuff you could technically color in Microsoft Paint.

Transcript:

EXT. SOMEWHERE IN THE MOJAVE, morning. AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY stand over the wreckage of a caravan, scattered over a dirt road.

CASS: Hell.

EXT. SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE MOJAVE, midday. Looking over a second wrecked caravan, at the bottom of a ditch.

CASS: Fuck.

EXT. PRE-WAR HIGHWAY OUTSIDE OF VEGAS, mid-afternoon. AGNES and CASS survey a third wrecked caravan.

CASS: Shit. The proof is in the pudding. Or the pile of ash, rather. These attacks were done with Van Graff guns for Crimson Caravan caps. I'm sure of it.

As CASS explains her theory to AGNES, a short distance from the caravan two RAIDERS peer at the two of them from inside a barn at a ruined farmstead. They have snake-bite tattoos on the sides of their shaved heads and are holding rifles.

CASS: The scorchmarks and residue in the wreckages? That's energy weapon shit. Plasma and laser. Silver Rush special. Not like it'd be the Brotherhood. And Crimson Caravan must have bankrolled this fucked-up little hunting trip themselves.

The RAIDERS move out from the barn, sneaking up on two passers-by who’ve stopped at the caravan wreckage.

CASS: That explains why they bought me out...they needed the last loose end to saddle up back west with a tidy sum.

(NOTE: *Agnes delivered it and Cass signed it in IKROAH #7—Lou.)

CASS: It's a racket, Agnes: torch the local competition and it's win-win for both the f—

SFX: KRAK

A gunshot rips out from one of the RAIDERS’ rifles and sears across CASS’ shoulder.

CASS (gasping): —uckers.

CASS slumps down beneath the overturned caravan wagon on the road, clutching her shot shoulder.

CASS: —Aaggghghhhhhhh.

AGNES: Cass! Are you—

CASS: Fuck! Agnes, get down you moron!

AGNES ducks behind the cover of the wooden caravan wagon just as another gunshot splinters the top lip of it.

SFX: DTHWAK!

The RAIDERS advance on CASS and AGNES’ position, firing at them from off the road.

SFX: KRAK

AGNES leans over the top of the wagon with her pistol, returning fire.

SFX: BTAK BTAK BTAK

AGNES lands a shot right in one of the RAIDERS’ guts, and she drops her weapon and falls down.

SFX: SPLUT

CASS, leaning out the side of the wagon, takes as careful of aim as she can with her shotgun by holding it with her good arm. Trembling, she fires, connecting with the other RAIDER.

SFX: KBLAM

The would-have-been RAIDERS are dead.

AGNES: ...were those the Van Graffs?

CASS: No. Just some vultures.

CASS leans back behind cover to sit against the bottom of the overturned wagon again, wincing from her shoulder injury.

CASS: Ugghhn.

AGNES (slipping off duffel bag): Cass, your shoulder—

CASS: Yeah, it's been shot. I'm pretty fucking aware.

AGNES (unzipping bag): Quick, can you take your shirt off—

CASS: What!?

AGNES: —so I can dress the wound, Cass!

CASS: Oh! Good! So you weren't coming onto me on what remains of Griffin Wares Caravan.

CASS starts removing her shirt while AGNES produces a bottle of something from her duffel bag, and dampens a rag with its contents.

CASS: And since when are you a fucking field medic, anyway?

AGNES: 2269. NCR Certified.

CASS: What?

AGES: Yeah. I've been one kind of doctor or another since I was six.

CASS: What?

AGNES: Now hold still, this is antiseptic.

CASS: Since you were six!? I...shit, wait, hang on, Agnes—

AGNES pressess the rag onto CASS’ shoulder wound, and CASS winces instinctively. But, confusingly, there isn’t any pain.

CASS: ...isn't this supposed to sting like hell?

AGNES: No, not really. It's an acetic acid solution. Vinegar, basically.

AGNES begins cleaning the wound with the rag.

CASS: I thought you put alcohol on wounds to clean them.

AGNES: That's...a common misconception. It's good for tools, maybe, but too strong for skin. And it can complicate healing if you apply it directly.

CASS: So you're telling me, all my years, I've been wasting good whiskey only making my boo-boos worse?

AGNES: I mean...it's better than nothing in a pinch, but...

CASS: Well, then. Thanks for the lecture, doc. Can you just pass the whiskey anyway? Shoulder still hurts like hell regar—

AGNES hands her the whiskey bottle. She’d already gotten it out.

CASS: —dless. Oh. Thanks.

AGNES unspools a roll of bandages in her hands, then begins wrapping it over CASS’ shoulder and across her chest..

AGNES: So. It's a relatively minor wound, more of a deep graze than a real gunshot.

CASS: You'd know all about real gunshots, huh?

AGNES (unfazed): Uh-huh. I can suture it if necessary, but for now, these bandages will be fine. Just hold still. How do you feel?

CASS: I feel fucking pissed, Agnes!

AGNES recoils, taken aback slightly.

CASS: As I was saying before I got shot in the shoulder—which, however "minor" the wound, is real fucking close to my head, Agnes—this wasn't some random attack. These caravans, my caravan, got hit by the Van Graffs and Crimson Caravan. It ain't just some tragedy anymore. Now I've got names. Places. Faces.

AGNES resumes bandaging CASS.

CASS: I told you—ow! Don't pinch my tit, dammit—

AGNES: I said hold still.

CASS: —I told you, when you told me about this guy who shot you...when I let you drag me out of that fucking outpost...and when we went to Boulder City...that I would do the exact same thing in your shoes. Now, it is the exact same thing. This fucker shoots your eye out, these fuckers ash my caravan...these same fuckers I sold my own goddamn name to on a piece of paper. I mean...what else are we doing out here, Agnes? Getting shot at by Khans and Raiders just for kicks? Are we just fucking around?

AGNES finishes bandaging CASS, then leans back, pensive.

AGNES: No...no, I really guess we’re not.

CASS: That's what I thought. Your friend in Vegas can wait. Help me get mine, and we can get that shitheel together, and that's a prom—

CASS raises her arm  to shake her fist as she speaks, straining her shoulder injury.

CASS: —mmmmmmghhhh. Ooww, oww, oww, oww...

CASS grabs her shoulder in pain while AGNES looks off in the distance and stands up. She looks out towards the horizon—towards VEGAS, and the pre-war casinos and hotels that still gleam and glitter in blinding sunlight.

Her fist clenches. Her brow furrows. Her body tenses, all over, staring at that city, that place.

The caravan wreckage remains alone on the highway, brahmin bones long picked clean by scavengers.

AGNES SANDS IN: IT KEEPS RIGHT ON A HURTIN’

VOLUME 2: MAKE IT BIG IN VEGAS

[fatedwithmbc]

Back at it again. I didn’t do a lot today. I felt off. I still feel off. When do you feel “on” after feeling off?

I physically got into my closet today and came up with a bag of donations. I have empty hangars. This is peanuts though. I have tons of blue IKEA bags around my room and in the basement. Some have wonderfully washed and clean lavender smelling clothes. Some have clothes yet to be washed that require donation afterward.

I realized when I was in the beginning of my diagnosis, I stopped caring for myself. I stopped eating. I stopped doing chores. I stopped functioning. If I needed clean clothes, I bought them. And that’s why I’m in the predicament I am in now. As well the fact that I haven’t worn anything in my closet from prior to the pandemic and the transition to work from home. Since that timeframe, I’ve lost weight, so most of the clothes from pre-pandemic and pre-working from home don’t even fit me anymore. This goal has been my therapy “chore” or goal. Get to a place where I’m not swimming along in a sea of blue IKEA bags.

I always feel like I’m just shuffling things from one place to the next while I complete this task.

Dirty is in a bag, it gets run through the washer and dryer.

It turns from Dirty to Clean.

Clean gets folded and placed back in the bag.

If the Clean is lucky, they get a place in the dresser.

Otherwise, they take their place in the bag and wait for the closet clean out to continue.

I also have two totes to separate the “winter/fall” from the “summer/spring”. One could see how this just feels like a lot of shuffling after explaining my process. I, half the time, think it would be easiest to just throw everything from my closet into the donation pile. However, I’ve got sentimental attachments to my clothes. I can’t be the only one this happens to; but I feel like I attach sentiment to everything.

Sentiment is attached to anything worth a memory - wristbands, ticket stubs, receipts, random pieces of paper, a napkin with a restaurant name on it. Let’s see, there’s also calendars from previous years, planners from previous years — I think I have 10 years worth of mini-Marilyn Monroe calendars that I used to hang in my cubicle from my in-office days.

Don’t ask my why I’m the kid who decided everything had sentimental value. I mean, even my stuffed animals had feelings. Inanimate objects could feel “left out” or hurt if they didn’t get similar attention as my favorite items.

THIS, all of THIS is why I have a hard time letting go. Maybe this is where I’ve gotten this uneasy feeling from while I’ve been completing this therapy “chore”/goal. Thankfully, I’ve had accountability with my therapist. I give her an update each session to show my progress. And I’m nearing the end of this journey. I mostly only have “winter/fall” left to get through (enter totes).

Speaking of getting through things, I’m on day two of being off my A.I. (aromatase inhibitor). Seeing as this is the medication that eliminates any estrogen that my body is managing in to produce, and since the estrogen is feeding the protein that causes my cancer, I can’t imagine that I’d be allowed to be without an A.I.. I have a list of questions for my oncologist on Tuesday. I also have a TON of feelings regarding the fact that I’m coming up on ONE YEAR since my diagnosis. It feels surreal, scary and unbelievable all at once. What comes after the one year mark? Do I just keep floating along with the same treatment plan? Do I need another mammogram, more scans, more biopsies, more medication? It’s a lot of “What-If’s”.

However, “What-If” does no one good. I could sit here every night until I die speculating about when and how it would happen relating to my cancer only to find I might die for reasons that have nothing to do with my cancer. Scary, right?

I’m scared. I’m always scared. There hasn’t been a day without fear since September 17th, 2022. I think I just manage the fear better now. How do I know? Because I’ve been able to do the hard work, like cleaning out my closet and sorting through years and seasons’ worth of clothing. Who knew a pile of clothes could tell all of that about one person.

El Fin.