#I've kind of lost my point here sorry I have been pissed off about this for a long time but yeah anyways you can't always know everything
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SORRY, NOT SORRY -RAFE CAMERON
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!listener
Summary: Rafe can be a “good” boyfriend when he wants to be… with a sprinkle of manipulation of course.
Warnings: Naughty language, Fluff low-key from our toxic daddy, ft. JJ being a chaotic mess.
notes: This audio is set during 1x05. Instead of it being midsummer's, it's the listeners birthday! I've been working on this all week and I'm tired of listening to it on repeat, so if something doesn't add up, it's because I got lazy. And I wish Rafe told me he loved me. 😭
word count: Its audio, my panties are wet and so are yours.
Scene one
JJ: Ah, would you look at this! It's our birthday girl!
You: What are you doing here?
Our cutie patootie rambles on then walks off with the security guard.
During this pause count to about 6 or 7.
You: What the hell did you guys do to his face?
Rafe: We didn't do anything… his face was like that when he…showed up.
You: Well, why did you guys corner him in here?
Rafe: We were just making sure... he knew his place. And that he's not allowed here. If anything, we were doing you and your parents a favor, I mean, god knows what he already took.
You: You promised me you wouldn’t start anything tonight, Rafe.
Rafe: Can you give us a minute? I'd like to talk to my girlfriend... alone, so get out. Alright, um, can I speak first since you wanna do this right now?
You: Go ahead.
Rafe: How long have you lived here?
You: I was born here.
Rafe: Yes you were born here, but where - where did you grow up?
You: Figure 8.
Rafe: Yes, you grew up on Figure 8. And where did... our pal JJ grow up?
You: The cut.
Rafe: The Cut. and that's exactly my point, baby. We're kooks. And... what is JJ again?
You: Jesus, Rafe don't start-
Rafe: Come on, you wanna talk, let’s talk. What about communication? Isn’t that what we're supposed to be working on?
Count to 3 during this pause.
You: He’s a pouge.
Rafe: See that wasn't so hard, now was it? Now, let me make something clear, and stop me if you get a little confused - you and me. We’re practically royalty on this island. We’re together for a reason. And before you saying, yes I do love you. I always have and I always will. You’re mine. You’re it for me, sweetheart. And… you’re a kook. So, start acting like one before I do something about it, mkay?
You: God, you’re a dick you know that? How about you leave too.
Rafe: Ugh, look I’m sorry, alright? It’s just… it’s just when I saw him on the patio talking to Sarah I lost it. This is supposed to be your day and I didn’t want him ruining it. Kind of like when… uh… we switched out the coke with flour and gave it to Top because he ate your cupcakes.
You: And how is that relevant to this?
Rafe: It’s sorta the same thing. You - you worked hard on those. Uh, he ate them. I was pissed because they were for me. And you were upset because I wanted to punch him in the throat. Tomato, tomahto. Blah, blah, blah. See you’re smiling, I love it when you smile.
You: You’re such a sap.
Rafe: I love you.
You: I love you too.
Rafe: And again, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a scene, I just didn’t know how else to get him to leave. You know how JJ and his friends are. All of them are drawn to us like a moth to a flame. Now, uh, can we put this behind us and get back to the party?
You: Thats the smartest thing that’s come out of your fat mouth all night, baby.
Rafe: By the way, I really do think he took something from your bedroom.
You: What?
Rafe: I saw him come down from the hallway, unless he took something from your dad’s office?
You: You’re serious?
Rafe: As a heart attack.
You: But… I’ve never done anything to him.
Rafe: That’s what they do though. You should know this by now. They butter you up, just to take whatever they can right from under our noses. It’s sick, if I’m being honest.
You: So much for trying to be civil.
Rafe: I know, yeah, I’ll talk to your dad, and um, see what we can do. But for now, let’s go celebrate. It’s not everyday someone turns 17.
@rafesapologist @rvfecamerons @sadfury @rafesthroatbaby @rafesaddiction @hockeybabe87 @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @secretly-tumb1r @kingkylie444 @stayonmars @maybankswhore @barbiiecams @princessmisery666 @ilovebarrykeoghan
If you would like to be tagged, I gotchu sis.
#drew starkey#ai generated#rafe x you#rafe cameron#rafe outer banks#i’m in love#my original post#my original writing#enjoy the audio
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04/18/2024 Daily OFMD Recap
TLDR; Rhys / Bears; LindsCantrell/Ringasunn; Vico Ortiz; Gypsy Taylor; Nathan Foad; OFMD Remaining Billboard; Fan Spotlight: PatchworkPirateBear and Cast Cards; Fuck David Zaslav; Love Notes; Today's Taika/Daily Darby
= Rhysie Darby =
Hey all! As you've probably heard, our beloved Captain will be hosting the Big Bear Week this year! Check out more on Deadline.com
Img Src: Rhys' IG Stories
= Linds Cantrell / Ringasunn =
Our lovely crewmate @/ringasunn was given some awesome stills by Lindsey Cantrell our resident ofmd set director, and they were kind enough to share them with all of us! Thanks @/ringasunn!
Src: Ringasunn's Twitter
= Gypsy Taylor =
Our favorite costume designer Gypsy shared some unseen pictures of Wee John's socks!!
Src: Gypsy's IG
= Vico Ortiz =
Vico giving a shoutout for all the animation they've gotten to do since the lockdown!
Src: Vico's IG
== Nathan Foad ==
More BTS and images of Nathan with Love's Labour's Lost!
Img Src: Nathan's IG
== Our Boys Still Up ==
Thanks @ourflagmeansfanfiction on IG for keeping an eye on our boys on that billboard! Did Max maybe just forget it was there and are still paying for it?
Img Src: Our Flag Means Fanfiction IG
== Fan Spotlight ==
= Patchwork Piratebear =
@saveofmdcrewmates is highlighting our sweet crewmate @patchworkpiratebear! They are a pillar of kindness and are always sharing their artwork and edits to be shared in support of the campaign! Feel free to take a load off and do some coloring! There's lots more on their socials!
SaveOFMD Posts: Tumblr, Twitter, IG
PatchWorkPirateBear's Socials: Tumblr: @patchworkpiratebear , IG, Twitter
= Cast Cards =
Always happy to see another Cast Card from the lovely @melvisik! Today's is "Mark Prendergast, the court scribe who penned the edict leading to Ed and Stede’s Act of Grace."
Img Src: @melvisik Twitter
== Fuck David Zaslav ==
Hey! Looks like there are lots of people pissed at David Zaslav! Sesame Street is going on Strike!
Article Link
== Love Notes ==
Hey lovelies! This one's late, sorry about that, I fell asleep again.
Today I wanted to send a reminder that you get to create your own space. You get to choose who's in your crew, and your safe space ship. If you don't feel comfortable, because someone is making you feel that way, you don't have to interact with them. I know it's hard, I know that I often suffer from justice fatigue (and I want so badly to explain my point of view), but it really is important to give yourself some space from the things in this world that are heavier. It doesn't mean you can't come back to them, or you shouldn't care, but remember to give yourself a break.
Tumblr, Twitter, those places have "safety" measures in place through blocking, ignoring certain words, etc to help with this kind of thing, so if you need a break from discussions or politics, or whatever, please feel free to use them. You deserve some joy and rest too.
Tumblr is my happy place personally, I love coming here and seeing all the cool meta, fanart, fics, etc, but there have been times where I've felt like I just can't deal with the heavier stuff. It's okay not to interact with it if it's bothering you. It's okay to block people who are attacking you. It's okay to ask for support with it too. I love that there's a way to block anon asks now (not just turning them off, but you can block them last time I looked).
A lot of our lives we're told that we don't have a lot of control, but one thing about these kinds of spaces is, we do get to have some semblance of control on what we see and who we interact with, and there's no shame in practicing self care.
Anyway lovelies, take care of yourselves, we love you and we want you to be okay <3
Some other little things that helped me today:
TinyBuddhaOfficial IG
Adorable Raccoon Memes IG
== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==
Today's Theme is STAAAAAAAAAAAAAHP, How very dare you look that good.
Gifs courtesy of @kiwistede and @darkinerry
#daily ofmd recap#daily ofmd recaps#ofmd daily recap#ofmd daily recaps#ofmd#our flag means death#save ofmd#rhys darby#taika waititi#linds cantrell#nathan foad#vico ortiz#gypsy taylor#ofmd bts s2#ofmd bts
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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.
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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.”
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“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.
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I think this might be the case at other stores, but I don't have enough work experience to really know.
Does anyone else's corporate/bosses/higher ups semi-regularly become extremely obsessed with "improving the numbers" of a certain thing and force all the employees to obsessively do X thing to improve X numbers and make their lives hell for a few months and then completely drop it? Lmao
I'll give you 2 examples that I can immediately think of.
A few years ago at a job, maybe 3 years ago, the managers/corporate/whoever were OBSESSED with our greeting numbers. Like when a customer walks in the door, they were on our ass to greet them and say "welcome to [store name]" or at least "hi, welcome in" or some kind of acknowledgement. (Personally I didn't find this TOO irritating, more mildly annoying, however it did cause me to have a weird pavlovian response to automatic doors to the point where I've accidentally said "hi welcome in" when I was a customer in other stores with doors that made the same sound lmao rip) And then after a few months, they just totally dropped it. I haven't been told to welcome anyone in, haven't even heard a peep about any greeting numbers in at least 2 years.
The current one is still ongoing, but is tapering off.
About 2 years ago, corporate or whoever the fuck decided that we absolutely needed to start harrassing our customers into handing over their personal information in the form of their email, and then after we got a new register system, their phone number, under the guise of a "rewards system" that didn't exist.
(Sorry, side tangent here- this one is SO shady. I've never been able to get a straight answer as to WHY we need to get the info from customers or WHAT benefit it would have for customers, you know, since they were rightfully asking why they should provide this information. I had a manager say it was a "rewards system" and then when I asked how the customers could earn points and how I could view their points to tell them how many points they had or how could I apply their reward to the transaction, backtracked and said there was no rewards. Bro what?? This manager would tell customers themselves this, minus the part about it all being a lie, of course, so customers would get pissed because they weren't getting discounts that didn't exist. And THEN after this "rewards system" bullshit blew up in his face, the manager said that the phone numbers were so in the rare event that a customer MIGHT want to return an item but lost their receipt, they could do a return through their phone number. But....we've ALWAYS been able to do no reciept returns...it just had to be a manager who processes the return...the manager who was lying to me about all of this shit...hmm...)
ANYWAY, managers were pretty rabid about the stupid ass phone numbers and what each employee's individual percentages were and would publicly shame employees with low percentages by posting everyone's scores in the breakroom and highlighting those with low scores and put a condescending note like "[name] and [name] need to try harder" or "too many numbers below 70%" or whatever. And it was all the managers would talk about: how many numbers you got, how to increase numbers, tactics for manipulating people into giving their personal info, etc. etc.
And then it started tapering off about 6 months ago and for the past month or so, I have not heard a single peep about phone numbers or percentages or scores or whatever.
So what the fuck was that all about? Has anyone else experienced anything similar? Is this common or is my workplace nuts?
I know with the companies I worked for they would hire an outside audit agency to come in and look at our metrics and if one was low (i.e. not greeting) they would focus on that until the next one would say we were not promoting the rewards program. Next time it was asking if they found everything.
I'm not saying every company is like that but three of the ones I worked for did that.
-Rodney
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Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 9: Halloween
Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader
6680 words
Series Masterlist
Previous Chapters: 1 - Valium; 2 - Carrie; 3: Honey; 4: Starcourt; 5: Buzzkill; 6: Monsterous; 7: Prizes; 8: Interlude
Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault (chapter 2); disordered eating and thoughts of food; shitty/abusive/critical parents; porn magazines; smut; reference to suicide (specifically Virginia Woolf’s); no beta; grief/mourning; warnings updated each chapter
Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.
Chapter Summary: ♫ Boys and girls of every age. Wouldn’t you like to see something strange? ♫ Nah, but it is the spooky season and that means two things: softness and smut.
Author’s Note: So, turns out I've been writing the school year as they run in Australia (Semester 1 runs from January to June, Semester 2 from July to December). But in the US, the school year isn’t the same as the calendar year; the end of the academic year is around May/June… so… Yikes. I can’t change it now so we will have to just pretend the US is the same as Australia. Sorry and thank you.
The Jack-o-lanterns were sat on a line of broken bar stools, plastic outdoor chairs, and other trash nobody at Forest Hills had ever bothered to take to the dump. Eddie had come home with them the night prior, pupils blown and a manic grin on his face.
It had been almost midnight when Eddie had ducked out after someone called the trailer looking to score. It was worth the drive, financially speaking, so he’d kissed you in your sleep and disappeared into the night. When he got back, you were bundled up on the couch on the porch.
“Angel, what are you doing up?”
“Woke up and you were gone,” you’d said, voice sleepy as you got up and let him help you jump from the porch. He kissed you deeply.
“Sorry, bub. Just made a couple hundred bucks though. And look at this,” he’d said too eager to show you all the Jack-o-lanterns piled in the back of his van, wax dripping from some.
“Where… did you get those?”
“Stole them. From Jason Carver and his bougie neighbours.”
The next morning, he’d lined up them up and called Jeff, Gareth, and Gene. Only Jeff was free, asking if he could bring Esther.
You sat next to Esther in a couple of fold-out camping chairs, drinking Dr Pepper and watching the boys smash the pumpkins with an old baseball bat.
“Why are boys like this?” Esther had asked you.
“I thought maybe it was just Hawkins that did it to them? Like, nothing better to do than dumb shit?”
“Oh, no, babe. They’re like this everywhere.”
Esther was kind, funny, and fit into the group of lost sheep well. However, she wasn’t so lost herself, but actually very fucking cool. You were sure if she had wanted to try out for cheer, she would have made the team. But when she transferred mid-year, started dating Jeff and sitting at the Hellfire table, she showed no interest in being friends with the cool kids. You knew it pissed Hayley off. Esther was the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen.
“We can hear you, you know?” Eddie said, pointing the bat at you. “You tellin’ me you don’t want a go? That this is too dumb for you?”
You smiled at your boyfriend and shook your head.
“Here’s the thing about me,” Esther said, standing and taking the bat from Eddie. “I’m happy to admit when I’m a hypocrite. This is dumb boy shit. But… when in Rome.” She took a swing and the bat hit the pumpkin with such force that it exploded entirely. Eddie started to laugh hysterically and Jeff pulled her into a kiss.
“Come on. Have a go,” Eddie said as he came over, leaning down and holding a hand on each arm of the chair. He kissed the tip of your nose.
Giving in to the peer pressure, you took the bat from Esther, who had pushed Jeff into her chair and perched herself on his lap. “You got this, girl,” she encouraged.
Eddie put a fresh Jack-o-lantern on a stool and came to stand next to you. He lowered his voice and leaned in close. “This orange motherfucker is meant for you, angel. I swiped it from Andy’s.” Eddie kissed your cheek and stepped away from you, giving you space.
Deep breath in, and long breath out, you held the bat up and swung hard. Andy’s pumpkin caved in and went flying, breaking into chunks in the air. Jeff, Esther, and Eddie all cheered.
After leaving the pumpkin pieces for the trailer park animals, you all drove into town for lunch at the diner. It felt like a double date, which was something you used to dream about. It seemed like such a lovely and special and awesome thing. As you sat in a window booth, Eddie’s arm around you while you fed each other fries and listened to Esther tell you stories about Chicago, her weird scientist dad and the top-secret job that brought him to Hawkins, you discovered it was lovely, special, and awesome
…
Summer had ended, ushering in the Halloween hues and crunchy leaves of Fall. Senior year was moving at a snail’s pace, but the finish line was in sight with final exams only a month and a bit away.
When Eddie was at Hellfire or band practice, you were doubling down on studying, determined to do well. All the colleges you had applied for demanded a certain level of academic success, and nothing was going to stop you from getting the hell out of Hawkins.
You and Eddie hadn’t spoken about what would come after high school. Eddie was on track to graduate, so in theory, he could leave the haunted small town too. The fear that ran through you when you thought about asking him if he would, if he would come with you, was paralysing. What if he said no? What if he wouldn’t leave Wayne? What if it was the end of you and Eddie? So, you entirely ignored anything post 1986. You didn’t know if it was on purpose, but Eddie was doing the same.
To be entirely honest, you weren’t even sure if Eddie knew which colleges you had applied for. He would be stupid to think you hadn’t applied at all, but you couldn’t remember ever mentioning it. You felt like there would be an undoing at some point, but that point was not now, so it didn’t matter. Eddie’s philosophy of mindfulness, living in the moment, was certainly rubbing off on you.
For the first time in a long time, you had a little more pep in your step. Zest for life. All that anti-emo bullshit. It did mean, however, that you were genuinely excited for Halloween and all the spooky fun that went with it.
“What do you mean you’ve been to Jason’s parties before?” you asked, the image of Eddie anywhere near a basketballer’s house not able to even form in your mind.
“You wouldn’t believe how much people pay for shit at those things,” Eddie said. “Trick is to rock up at the right time. Just as the shitty beer is running out, but before anybody sobers up. I can overcharge and they’ll buy anything,”
“I have never seen you at one.” You didn’t make the cheer squad in your Freshmen year, which in hindsight could have been when you really committed to losing baby weight and to demonising food. When you made the squad in Sophomore year, it felt like the start of something good. Being a cheerleader granted you invites to Jason’s big Halloween parties. That year and Senior year though, you definitely didn’t see Eddie there.
“You didn’t go wandering down the garden path and into the shadows looking to score though, did you?”
You shook your head. “Did Jason know?”
“Probably. Where else would it be coming from? Can’t start a fight with the only supplier willing to risk holding in that part of town. Crawling with cops and neighbourhood watches,”
“A begrudging symbiotic relationship,” you joked.
“Yep. But, not this year. Fuck ‘em. They can find someone else. We’ve got better things to do, yeah?”
Gene’s parents were going to Nashville for a wedding, leaving an empty house over the Halloween weekend. His parents weren’t worried; Gene wasn’t really the type to throw a rager. They imagined the worse that could happen was someone would spill bong water on the carpet or drip wax on the good buffet. Those Hellfire sessions needed mood lighting, after all.
It was Gene’s last chance at a little infamy, Senior year and all that. He spent the week inviting pretty much anyone that wouldn’t be invited to Jason’s party to his own. Freaks. Geeks. Weirdos. And the formally invisible. By 10:30 pm on Halloween, the house was packed. You and Eddie, however, had not yet arrived.
Wayne had cooked an early dinner, saying something about needing to line your stomachs before hitting the bottles. He left soon after. “Where’s he going?” you’d asked Eddie as you washed the dishes and he dried.
“You know his mate John, the one that-”
“Just got divorced,” you finished. Wayne talked a lot about John, because John talked a lot about the divorce and how she moved back to Indy with the kids.
“Yeah. Wayne is going over to keep him company. You know, ‘cause the trick or treaters remind him of the kids and he’s gonna drink himself into oblivion if someone isn’t there to stop him,”
“Jeez. Wayne is like… an actual angel. Honestly.”
Eddie nodded. “Yep. Sayin’ that though, John’s buying the beers and steak, so it’s a win-win.”
You showered around 7:00 pm, sat in front of the mirror and did your makeup. It would take Eddie a lot longer to get ready, so you wanted time to help him. As you smudged brown eyeshadow along your face, giving the appearance of dirt, you started to feel it – that hot, uncomfortable sensation. Insecurity. Dissociation.
Leaving your hair for last, you tried on the costume like you had half a dozen times before. Now, too late to change your mind, you hated it. The pants pulled around your thighs, nothing like the character you were dressed as.
You hated it most when it was like that. Feeling ugly in the shitty lights of a change room was one thing. The chafing between your thighs and the self-consciousness of gym class was another expected, and gratefully over, thing. But when it surprised you like that. When you had already tried on the clothes. Seen your reflection. Thought of yourself one way. Then BAM. Hideous. Fat. Revolting. Out of fucking nowhere. Yeah, that was the worst one.
Before Eddie got out of the shower, you quickly changed back into sweatpants and a t-shirt, sitting down in front of the mirror.
Eddie came into the room, dripping water and barely holding the towel to cover himself. You’d been living with him for a couple of months by then, so you’d seen him naked, but it still made you blush.
“Alright,” he said, hitting play on the tape deck, then looking around the room for his costume. “Let’s do this thing. Where are my ears?” Eddie looked up at you and clocked it immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, coming over and kneeling next to you, taking your legs and hugging them.
There was no point in lying; he knew you too well. “I, um, I don’t know about the costume,” you admitted.
Eddie thought for a second. “Okay… Do you want to swap?”
You shook your head. “No. You look cute. I just…” Shrugging, you avoided eye contact with both your reflection and Eddie. “Esther says she’s not wearing a costume. She’s just bought a cute dress,”
“Yeah, but Jeff is pissy about it. Don’t tell her I told you, but he was suuuuper jealous when I said that we have matching costumes,” Eddie told you in that soft voice he used when you were sad.
“Did you tell him what we’re going as?”
“No. It’s a secret, right?”
“Yeah,” you replied, nodding. “It’s just… It’s the first time I haven’t fully hated myself in two years and maybe I should have gone as like, an angel or something?”
“Okay, first of all, you’re my angel, nobody else’s. Second of all, we’re way more original than that. But, I’ll do whatever you want, honest… but can I tell you something first?” Eddie asked.
You nodded; Eddie grinned, stood up, and started to pace. It was his awkward storytelling pace.
“The first time I saw you in that,” he started, pointing to your costume. “I almost jizzed myself,”
“Eddie!” you squealed, covering your face.
“Seriously. And with the props. Babe. You’re the dream girl. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. We’re gonna be the best dressed couple and everyone is gonna be soooooo jealous. And we’ll drink some of Gareth’s freakishly good pumpkin punch stuff and sneak into an empty room and you don’t even need to worry about what you look like in it, because I’m gonna have you out of it so quick.”
You laughed because he was ridiculous.
Eddie slipped his hands into his back pockets, looking at you with a toothy smile. “I promise. You’re an A-grade hottie… But I don’t want you to be… you know, uncomfortable. So, whatever you want.”
Chewing your lip, you looked back at the costume. Eddie watched you stand up and take off your sweat pants, step into your costume, pull it on, and zip it up.
“Those aliens don’t stand a fucking chance,” he said, crossing the room to grab you in a hug, kissing you. “I was like, 12 or 13 when it came out, you know? She might have been my first real crush. I’m not fucking with you when I say this is doing things for me,”
“Things?”
“Oh, you need me to be more explicit?” Eddie teased. “You were hiding at ‘jizzed,’ so I don’t know if you can handle more.”
You pouted dramatically. “I can,”
“Yeah? Can you handle… this?” He cradled the back of your head, moved you so your neck was exposed. Eddie nipped at your skin and made a dumb growling sound that made you laugh. “Whaaaaaat about this?” He unzipped the costume, pushing it front your shoulders and down.
It stopped being funny at that point and started being something else.
Eddie kissed down your chest, freeing you of your bra, then dropped to his knees in front of you. With your hand on his head to keep yourself steady, you let him slide your clothes and underwear off. Standing entirely naked in front of him made you feel infinitely hotter than the costume had.
“Baby,” he whispered, kissing the freckle under your belly button, then pushing his forehead against the softness of your belly. “I love you,”
“I love you too,” you whispered back.
Since the night in the secret place, Eddie had spent a great deal of his time angling to get between your legs. He’d tasted you, heard you, felt you, and nothing else he spent his time on was as good as that. There was always studying for exams, Hellfire, and Corroded Coffin. The real high though, was you.
His mouth was on you fast, your legs shaking almost as quick. When you stumbled to move to the bed, lay down for him, Eddie shook his head. “No, no, stay here. Can you stay standing?” he mumbled. “Here,” he said, offering his hands as aids. You threaded your fingers through his, let him hold you up.
“Uh-huh.”
Naturally, your legs wanted to part for him but there was only so much you could do without stacking it. You had to let Eddie press his face into you entirely, had to let him work for it.
It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. When you whined out Eddie’s name, he looked up at you and grinned. “Come ‘ere,” he instructed, pulling one of your legs over his shoulders, wrapping an arm around it, keeping his other hand in yours still.
Better.
Like that, with him being not so much in front of, but under you, it felt like you were melting onto Eddie, into him. It felt dirty; you would have blushed but your mind was pop rocks in Coke.
As soon as you unlocked your knee to help you grind, you felt your legs turn to jelly. “Eddie!” you squeaked, hopping backward and falling onto the bed, stopping your orgasm before it even had a chance to bloom. You were laughing, and when Eddie popped up and saw your happy face, he fell in love just a little harder.
“Okay, I’ll come to you,” he said, smiling and crawling up onto the bed. His towel was discarded on the floor. “I, ah, there’s something we could try. If you liked that, I mean,”
“I liked that,” you said, still a little breathless.
“So, okay, so I’d lay on my back, like this,” he explained, moving to be flat on the bed. “And you would sit here.” He pointed to his face, then winked.
You tried to picture it, but you couldn’t calculate the physics. “Um, same problem though? I can’t hold myself up, when it like, gets… good,”
“No, that’s the point. You don’t need to. You just sit,” he corrected. Eddie knew what you were thinking but he didn’t know if it would be better to let you say it and face it, or if he should quell the doubt before it gained traction. “I saw it… in a movie,”
“A movie?” The suspicion was audible.
“Okay, porn. It was porn. You got me,” he said grinning. You laughed, but he could still see the doubt in your face. “I, ah… I actually got that one because, um, the girl looks a lot like you.”
It was a half-truth. Eddie had gone to a buyer’s house to sell him some ket. The guy was already stoned out of his brain and Eddie almost felt bad for contributing to the problem. Then he saw the porn playing on the T.V. set. The girl did look like you. Too much. Eddie popped the VHS out of the machine and replaced it with another sitting close by. The dude on the couch hardly noticed.
“You mean…”
“Yeah,” Eddie confirmed. “Or I can just-” Like he always did, he started to offer an out, an alternative. Safety, always.
“No! No. I, ah…” A pause. A self-affirmation. “I wanna try.”
After a few rounds of the usual ‘are you sure’ cycle, you swung your leg over Eddie, resting on his stomach first.
“Can you close your eyes?” you asked.
Eddie nodded and tried to contain the grin, but as soon as his eyes shut and he felt you move, there was no chance. His mouth would be well and truly open in a second anyway.
It was instant, as soon as you were close enough, Eddie’s arms were around your thighs, pulling you down with enough force that you couldn’t have hovered even if you tried. With all your weight on him, Eddie was a happy man.
Oh.
Fucking oh.
It was a hard yes for both of you.
When you arched your back and leaned your arms behind you, Eddie opened his eyes to watch you. With your belly stretched and your hands pressed against the mattress on either side of Eddie’s hips, you looked like a goddess.
The heavy breathing, the moaning, and the way your body was grinding into him were driving Eddie insane. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started to wriggle under you. Entirely lost in the feeling, you hardly noticed, but he was rock hard and on the verge of tears. He felt so goddamn good.
Syllables wouldn’t come out when you tried to say his name, so when you felt how close you were to cumming, you curved yourself forward and sunk your fingers into his hair. Eddie smiled; you could feel it.
Higher and higher and higher. You squeaked and shook, then felt yourself sensationally shatter. There’s no word for the sound you made, somewhere between a growl and a scream. Breathing heavy, you rolled off Eddie and looked over at him.
His face was glistening. A feral grin told you everything you needed to know.
“Babe,” he whispered, wiping his face on the back of his hand and moving to lay on his side. “Babe.”
You giggled. “I know,”
“Oh, I know you know.”
You wanted to be closer to him, so you scooted over and mirrored Eddie’s position. It was a picture you never would have predicted for yourself. Not only entirely naked with the light on but laying on your side, gravity pushing your belly to pool on the bed. You didn’t care though, Eddie was grabbing your face and kissing you deeply.
His mouth tasted different, like you, you figured. It was hot and made your kissing needy. Eddie felt the exact same, and the sensation of his painfully hard cock pressing against you, tip leaking, excited you both.
Eddie wrapped his arms around you to close the space between his body and yours. His hips bucked up, letting the friction work its magic. Carefully, he pushed you back onto the mattress, climbed on top, one leg between yours.
As he kissed your neck, rubbed himself against the coarseness of your pubic hair and warm softness of your lower belly, he asked, “Is this… okay?”
You nodded. “Yes. Please.”
Eddie chuckled at the manners, thrusted a little harder. “I’m… I’m so fuckin’ close,” he muttered, barely audible.
Wrapping one leg around his waist, leaving the other for him to straddle, you kissed at whatever you could – Eddie’s cheekbone, the side of his head, his hand when he brought it up to your lips. He whined and bit your neck when you sucked in his index and middle finger, not letting go.
A string of fuck and baby and I love you and you feel so good. Eddie repeated them over and over, words slurring more with each round.
Where the sound of your orgasm was half growl half scream, Eddie’s was half growl half moan. Deeper, then stunted by him holding his breath. You felt the warmth and the stickiness between your body and his. It was simultaneously gross and nice. When you started to giggle uncontrollably, Eddie pulled himself from his post-cum haze to look at you and commit the moment to his long-term memory.
When he sat up, he moves his eyes slowly over every inch of you. You watched his hands hold your sides, dragging downwards. He stopped at your belly button.
“Ah, sorry,” he said with a snort.
“What?”
Eddie pointed. The messy white that was spread across your stomach had pooled in your belly button, like a little cup. When you saw, you made the same snorting sound he had.
“I want… to…” But he stopped himself.
“You gonna say something weird?” you asked, entirely excited.
Eddie moved slowly, like he could hurt himself. He dipped his finger into your belly button, making you laugh again.
“Warm,” was all he said.
You scrunched your face up and shook your head at him. “I thought you were gonna do a body shot,” you told him.
“Do you want me to?” he asked dead serious.
“No, I just thought-”
“Because I will,”
“Eddie, I-”
“I mean, if you dare me, I guess I have to.”
You were laughing. “Eddie!”
“Here we go!”
“EDDIE!” you squealed, but he was leaning down and sucking the fluid from your belly button. Squirming at the feeling, you were unable to tell if you were genuinely a bit disgusted or kind of into it. You settled on feeling weirdly natural.
“How was it?” you asked as Eddie sat up.
“Salty? I’ll start eatin’ more fruit or whatever.” When you frowned, Eddie laughed and shrugged. He’d explain it another time. “Do you want to have a quick shower?”
“Yes,”
“With me,”
“I got it, Eddie,” you told him.
Running the soapy sponge over the curves of your body made Eddie hard again. He blushed, a little embarrassed at how he was playing the ‘horny teenage boy’ role too well.
“I like it,” you whispered, your back pressed to his chest, hot water hitting the front of you. “Makes me feel good,”
“Good. You make me feel good too… Somethin’ very satisfying about cleaning… me… off… you,”
“We should hurry up though. It’s gonna take a while to get ready and it’s like, eight now,”
“Gimme one more minute with you, then you can get out? Start getting ready and I’ll be out in a sec?”
You knew he was going to jerk off as soon as he was alone, but you were into that too.
Back in the bedroom, you were about to put your underwear back on when you had a better idea. Searching through your clothes, you found what you were looking for. Standing in front of the mirror, you liked your reflection.
It took a while to re-do your makeup. The shower had fucked it up a bit, so you started fresh. When yours was done, you sat Eddie down and did his for him, doing your best at making him cute.
“Ears,” you instructed when you were done. Eddie put them on his head. “Perfect.”
…
With an hour or so until midnight, you and Eddie arrived at Gene’s house. Making your way through the crowd, you were relieved to find that most of the focus was on how objectively weird Eddie looked. Eddie – the cult leader, town freak, edgy drug dealer – dressed in a fluffy orange outfit complete with tail pinned to the ass of his pants and ears on a headband. He made for a kind of deranged but beautiful ginger tabby cat.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Gareth screeched as Eddie walked into the kitchen.
Gareth looked like a witch as he stood over a giant pot, stirring the potion inside. It smelt good, Halloweeny, and there were people buzzing around waiting for it to be ready.
“I’m Jones!” Eddie yelled at him.
“Jones?” Gareth saw you then, “Holy shit,”
“Keep it in your pants,” Eddie warned.
“You look… um, good,” Gareth said to you. He looked back at Eddie. “Why Jones and not like, the xenomorph,”
“We’ve got one already,” Eddie replied. You turned around to show Gareth the toy xenomorph stuck to the back of your Ripley jumpsuit.
Gareth laughed. “Alright. Well, fuck. You guys look good. You want some of this? It’s the second batch of the night,” he offered. People around groaned, annoyed that they’d been waiting longer.
“Dungeon Masters get first drinks,” Eddie yelled at everyone and nobody in particular.
Bidding Gareth, who was actually dressed as a D&D character – not a witch, goodbye, you let Eddie take your hand and lead you through the house and out the back to where Gene and Jeff had built a semi-stable somewhat dangerous fire pit.
The circle of people around the blaze, most of which were Hellfire warriors, cheered Eddie’s arrival. Eddie stopped at two chairs occupied by people he didn’t recognise. “Scram,” he ordered.
“Eddie!” you reprimanded.
“Sorry. Scram, please,” he corrected. The people left, and you shot Eddie a look as you sat down. “Don’t give me that face. Mean and scary, remember?”
“Man, you’re not really giving mean and scary right now,” Jeff called across the fire. He was dressed as Freddy Krueger. Esther was sitting next to him, pretty in a dress.
“Yeah, dude, what are you?” Dustin asked, confused at the appearance of his hero.
“Jones from the USCSS Nostromo. This is Ripley,” Eddie explained, nodding to you. You smiled and waved happily, not radiating Ripley energy in the slightest.
“At least you look cool,” Jeff said.
“And we can all agree everyone looks better than Mike,” Gene added.
Mike was sitting next to Dustin, nursing a bottle of beer he was a bit nervous to be drinking at all. “I told you – I’m Billy from Gremlins,”
“I might buy that if you had Gizmo with you. But you’re just wearing your normal clothes,” Gene said.
“Why’s Esther get a free pass?!” Mike argued.
“I’m Freddy’s victim,” she said with a shrug. It was a good enough cover. “Come tomorrow I’ll be dead. There’s a costume change later.” There wasn’t.
“Whatever. Maybe I’m just growing up,”
“You saying I’m a baby, Wheeler?” Eddie challenged, holding his tail up and spinning it.
“No! I just mean-”
“Yeah, whatever man. Where’s Sinclair? What did he come as?” Eddie asked. A silence fell over the group. “He’s at Jason’s, I’m guessin’,”
“Yeah,” Dustin said. “He went as Magic Johnson.”
Eddie could see that Dustin was hurt; he imagined there was a fight about it all. Ultimately, Eddie didn’t really begrudge Lucas. He knew the kid loved basketball, and he was finding his own way. Mostly, he just didn’t want to see him get hurt like so many people that come into contact with the popular kids did.
“Are we supposed to know who that is?” Gene said.
“He’s a basketballer. Lucas’ hero,” you said. Lucas had told you about him once, shown you some pictures he’d cut out of magazines and newspapers. He was important, Lucas had said, not needing to explain why to you.
“Are we supposed to know who you are, Genie?” Eddie added, looking at his friend.
“I’m Jack!” he said, clearly outraged at not being recognised. “Torrance?”
“Where’s your axe?” you asked.
“Fuck. I knew I forgot something.”
Midnight came and went, ghost stories were told, and you and Eddie got suitably drunk on whatever funky shit Gareth had conjured.
“I’m serious, Gee. Anythin’ you want. Jus’ name it. Name it! I need ta know wha’s in it,” Eddie begged.
You were sitting between them on the couch, back against Eddie’s chest as he angled towards his friend, his arms around you, and your legs up on Gareth’s lap, where he held them steady.
“Anything? Pshhh. Such a fuckin’ liar, Munson. Your Warlock? You’d never give ‘er up,”
“Yeah, alright. I’m fulla shit. But you can… Borrow her? For a couple shows? Or… Or I’ll make you DM!”
“I’m already gonna be DM as soon as you graduate,” Gareth rebutted.
“Which he will,” you added.
“Okay, so then jus’ tell me for like, a graduation gift?” Eddie pleaded.
“Tell me! An’ not Eddie. An’ I won’t tell him,” you offered, knowing Gareth would jump at the opportunity to get one up on his friend.
“Hey!” Eddie said, instantly pulling a sulky face.
“You won’t tell him?” Gareth asked. You shook your head. “Alright. Come ‘ere.” You leaned forward and listened as Gareth whispered all the secret ingredients to his pumpkin punch.
Later, when Gareth left to go ask a girl named Gracie to dance (she was dressed as Princess Leia) Eddie pulled you back so you were entirely in his lap on the couch.
“You gonna tell me?” he asked.
“Ah-huh. Later,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him. “He didn’t make me promise sooooo, like, that’s on him?”
“Totally. Rookie mistake,” Eddie agreed.
“Roooooooookieeeeee mistake,” you repeated.
Eddie held your face in his hands and kissed you, he tasted like secret ingredients and Dustin’s mum’s Halloween sugar cookies.
“Are you drunk enough to dance yet?”
“Fuck it. Come on, angel. Show me whatcha got.”
Eddie kept you upright as you danced and twirled around him. He held your hand and spun you under his arms as you sang the words to songs Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead listening to under any other circumstances. Papa Don’t Preach. Manic Monday.
You were breathless when a slow song came on.
There is freedom within, there is freedom without. \
Eddie held you close as you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested against him, letting him sway you around the living room, barely avoiding all the other couples.
Try to catch a deluge in a paper cup.
Eddie winked at Gareth, who still had Gracie with him. His friend blushed and buried his head in Gracie’s neck. Eddie’s attention came back to you. He started to sing quietly.
There’s a battle ahead, many battles are lost. But you’ll never see the end of the road while you’re traveling with me.
A little louder, and you could hear others in the room join in.
Hey now, hey now.
The others heard it too, and suddenly everyone was singing along.
Don’t dream it’s over. Hey now, hey now, when the world comes in. they come, they come to build a wall between us. We know they won’t win.
It’s a moment that never would have happened at Jason Carver’s party.
As the second verse began, Eddie whispered, “Wanna go somewhere, just us?”
You nodded, floated along behind Eddie, hardly watching where you were going as your boyfriend navigated the house. It was late, or early, depending on perspective; people were looking worse for wear, passing out or trying to find an exit. Eddie knew where he was going though, he’d been there before. Gene’s parents were cool and had let Eddie crash in the guest room a couple of times. He knew, therefore, that the door locked and the bed was a queen double.
The light was on in the room, but whoever had been there was long gone. They had been there though. A forgotten bag of candy spilled out across the bed and floor. Someone’s Dracula cape was hung on the back of the desk chair. A pair of devil horns were on the ground. Although the quilt has been disturbed, the bed was still made.
Eddie locked the door and switched off the light. You screamed a drunk little sound, then immediately started to giggle. “Hold on, don’t move. I’ll get the lamp. Don’t, don’t fuckin’ fall over.” He found the lamp, turned around to see you standing very still with your eyes closed. Eddie snorted. “What’re ya doin’?”
“Huh?”
You felt Eddie’s hands around your waist, shaking you a little. When you opened your eyes, he was smiling at you, a Cheshire cat if you’d ever seen one.
“Why’d you close your eyes?”
“What?”
He was too drunk to be bothered with the line of questioning and you were too drunk to meet him halfway.
“You wanna lay down with me?” he asked instead. Eddie was starfishing on the bed before you really answered. You laughed as he took off his furry pants and jacket, leaving him in an old Iron Maiden t-shirt and his boxers.
Following suit, you stripped of your Ripley boiler suit, almost going for a second round of costume in a white singlet and a pair of white underwear. Eddie noticed. “Fuck. Did you do that on purpose?”
“Mayyyyyyyyyyybeeeeeeee,” you said, standing at the edge of the bed, any shadow of self-consciousness drowned in punch and song.
“Angel,” Eddie purred, sitting on the bed, wrapping his arms around your hips and kissing your belly. “Such a good girl.” That’s all it took to make you come undone.
Everything was easier when drunk. Muscles relaxed. Insecurities forgotten. Everything was more difficult too. Bad coordination. Losing focus when a sound was deemed funny.
“Are we gonna forget this?” you asked Eddie.
He stopped what he was doing, popped his head up out of the blanket. “I’m not gonna forget goin’ down on you while ya dressed as Ripley.”
He looked deranged. His painted-on whiskers were smudged and his eyeliner was more raccoon than tabby cat. You couldn’t help but laugh, your belly shaking with the movement.
“You look funny,”
“Funny? I don’t look sexy like this?” Eddie repositioned himself, rested his cheek against your tummy and watched you.
You shook your head. “But you can still touch me,” you offered.
It was Eddie’s turn to laugh. “By the grace of god almighty Ozzy himself, I can still touch her,” he joked, raising a hand up in prayer.
“Actually, maybe, if you want…”
“Yes. I want,” Eddie answered, nodding frantically.
You cackled. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say,”
“I would do anything with you. To you. From you. Fuckin’ whatever.”
Still laughing, you moved out from under him and sat on your knees, your weight resting on your folded legs. Eddie watched you in awe; he loved how your thighs spread and your eyes sparkled and the white singlet pulled across your chest, making the fabric almost see-through.
“It’s your turn,” you told him, moving again. Eddie’s lips parted as you got off the bed, kneeling on the floor beside it. “You come here,” you instructed, patting the edge of the mattress.
“You don’t have to,” Eddie told you, already moving to where you wanted him. His legs slid down either side of you, and you immediately liked the feeling of having your head on his thigh.
He was already hard, as he always was whenever he went down on you, but the sensation of your warm breath so close to him made it painful.
“Want to,” you whispered back to him.
As soon as your hand made contact, Eddie’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. It was enough to drive him insane, but then you made a tentative kitten lick and he moaned, falling back on the bed and clawing at the quilt.
In the rare times you were alone in the Munson trailer, you’d sneakily watched some of the old porn VHSs that were stashed deep under Eddie’s bed. Partly, you wanted to know what he was into. Mostly, you just wanted to see what it was like. Whilst you weren’t into porn, it did give some idea of what to do with Eddie.
“Is this okay?” you asked him, popping him out of your mouth. He whined at the loss of contact. “Is this good?”
“So good, baby,” he managed to get out, waving his hand in the air. “S’perfect. Love you.”
You had been thinking about it long before Halloween. Obviously, Eddie was going to be all yesses and nods and smiles, but if you were honest, you were a tiny bit afraid. Not of him. Never of him. It was more that everything else you’d done, it had mostly been done to you.
Being a recipient was easy, especially with Eddie. What if you weren’t as good as him though? What if you couldn’t make him hard? Make him cum?
When you felt the buzz first hit, the thought had appeared in your head and it looked like an illuminated lightbulb. If that’s how the night was going to end, you’d use the inhibition blocker of alcohol to take that step forward.
The thing about it though, was that he tasted good. It felt good. Powerful. Beautiful. A little bit slutty, but in a very, very good way. And all for Eddie. Just Eddie.
Eddie, who was reacting perfectly – squirming, panting, and mumbling incoherent sentences. He loved you and you were such a good girl and fuck, baby and oh my god. When his hand started to pull at your hair gently, you looked up at him, confused.
“Bab-baby, I’m gonna, gonna, you shhhhould, fuck,” he tried to warn you.
“S’okay,” you told him, keeping your firm grip on the base of his cock and letting him slip back over your tongue. Resolute to swallow, you closed your eyes as his orgasm hit. There was too much though; it spilled from your lips.
Eddie watched as you let him go, watched you cover your mouth with your hand and at least swallow what was left. He sunk to the floor, caging you between his legs.
“You okay?” he asked, his big brown eyes so beautiful you wanted to cry.
“I liked it,” you reported. “Did I do good?”
“Did you-? Fuck, baby…” Eddie grinned, head tilted. “I’m gonna just say it, an’ you can just deal with the embarrasin’ words and shit, okay?”
“‘Kay,”
“And I say all this with so much love. And respect. I respect the fuck out of you, ‘kay?”
“Yep,”
“Come ‘ere.” Eddie pulled you into his arms, earning a surprised squeal from you. Entwined on the bedroom floor, sobering up but drunk on love, you were in your own world. “You were born to suck dick.”
It was a risky review to give, Eddie thought, but when you did the little shoulder shimmy thing you did whenever you were proud, he was a happy man.
“Just yours,” you told him, looking up and fluttering your eyelashes.
“Jesus Christ. I love you.”
Smiling him an I love you too smile, you sat for a while longer. Eddie went in search of water for you both, returning to find you passed out in the bed. He climbed in next to you, snuggled in, and quickly followed you into the dreaming.
Next Chapter: 10 - Royalty
End Note: I had to publish this chapter earlier than intended because I've seen references to Eddie and Alien in two different fanart pieces, and I freaked out because I had that part of the chapter written over a month ago. Honestly, that fandom hive mind is real.
Fic Taglist: @jeff855 @b-barnes04 @eddie-munson-is-a-sweetheart @nerd-squad-headquarters @word-wytch @harrys-tittie @munsonsmel0dy @sidthedollface2 @eddiethesexy @bardicfrustration @orpheusredux @munsonsgirl71 @a-time-for-wolvess @eddieswifu @rosaline-black @thegirlwhohides @emotionaldreamer @e0509 @briasnow-blog @kiyastrf94 @erinsingalong
All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog (has your url changed or am I tagging the wrong person?) @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic
#Mine#Eddie Munson#Eddie Munson x Reader#Eddie Munson x You#Eddie Munson/Reader#Eddie Munson/You#Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader#Eddie Munson/Chubby!Reader
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Twst for me pls also congrats on getting 1k!
I first chose Jade. He looked interesting. I kept him around for a bit but it always felt like he watching what he says more than a normal person.
When Leona came, I switched to him. Ever since I've had Leona on my screen. He doesn't use a filter and sees the world for how it is. Life really isn't fair. I could relate to him.
Its probably over between me and Jade. Leona already told me that its best not to trust people like Jade. I'm not going to go begging for a lost friendship or get myself in postion that I dont want to put myself in.
To a everyday person I am quiet, polite, and hard working. I dont mind helping out, it keeps me busy when I'm not taking a nap. I have dark sense of humor and pretty cyincal of the world. But I like to see it as seeing reality. Its simply life will never be fair. I like to plan things and enjoy studying battles from history and breaking them apart.
I'm laid back do whatever one you see fit. All I ask is for a happy ending.
Cat-lover Anon
(I hope you enjoy this, cat lover anon. I decided to take kind of a serious route with it, since you seem to be a more realistic person. Hopefully it's still good 😅 also, as a fellow nerd, I adore that you enjoy breaking battles down. I 100% want to see you and Leona face off in a chess match)
A Tale in Which Leona Looks out for a "Friend", and that Friendship becomes something more
CW:Toxic Jade, Jade slander (I'm sorry, I love Jade, but it's so easy to slander him 😂)
You weren't his.
Leona hadn't been close to you at first. He didn't trust Jade, and as Jade's lover, he figured you'd probably be the same as he was.
That is, until the day you were napping in one of his napping spots, and you sarcastically suggested you both cuddle. Never one to turn down an extra source of heat/extra pillow during a nap, Leona had plopped down on the ground and slotted himself in your arms, while snarking back at you about how this was a one time thing.
Three months into being daily nap buddies and you were the best of friends now. While he wanted to be more than a friend to you, he wasn't a home wrecker. You weren't his. And having so many things in his life not be his, he was okay with that. He may not trust Jade, and he was very vocal about it, but you seemed happy, so he wouldn't push the issue past a snarky comment here and there.
Until you were teaming up to infiltrate the fairy gala. Jade had dropped by to give you lunch as Leona was helping you tie some parts of your outfit. The look in Jade's eyes was murderous as he gave you his usual smile.
"I did not realize you were someone to put your hands on another man's property, hosuewarden. I see I'll have to be more careful about my possessions."
All he was doing was innocently helping you with an outfit. And now he was being accused of who the hell even knows what! But he was more pissed that Jade had outright referred to you as a possession.
Luckily for him, you seemed just as pissed about it.
"Jade! I am not a possession!"
"I know my dear, but…"
"Do you really know? Sevens, he was helping me with my outfit! Get a grip!"
Jade eyes glinted sharply, and he moved in closer to you.
"My darling, what if I were to tell you he was madly in love with you? I've let this go long enough, but you shouldn't see him anymore. I don't think it's safe for you."
And with that, you exploded. The yelling and rage, maybe for Leona's sake, maybe for your own, or maybe for the sake of just being tired of being fed bullshit, filled the room, to the point where it caught the other's attention, and they had to step in.
….
Leona was a good friend. He helped you work through the break up. Helped you stand on your own two feet. Gave you encouragement and built you back up. All he wanted was for you to be happy.
A couple months after the break up, you flopped into his nap spot next to him and snuggled in close. He was expecting this to be a regular nap session, and was starting to drift off, when he heard a quiet,
"Hey Leo?"
He grunted back in response.
"I don't think I've ever thanked you for being there for me whenever I need you."
"It's whatever, herbivore."
"No, it's not," you sat back up, and forced him to look into your determined face.
"I know how much energy it takes from you to do anything. And the fact that you are always there for me, always ready to tell things to me straight, means so much to me."
He attempted to roll over so that you wouldn't see how flustered he was getting, but you held him in place.
Although….he had to ask himself if maybe he really did want to have this conversation since he had more than enough strength to fight you off if he truly wanted to.
"Is there a point to this?"
"Yes," you said with a firm nod. "I don't know when it happened, but somehow I fell in love with you, you grumpy kitty cat. And even if you don't return the feelings, I think you should know that at least one person thinks you deserve to have a happy ending."
He laughed dryly. "You know I don't believe in those."
"I don't either. But…." You hesitated, "maybe we can find one together?"
You suddenly pulled away as though your own words shocked you. You pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in them.
"Anyway, no pressure or anything. Just wanted to share."
Leona stared at you for a moment, then sighed heavily.
"If anyone can help me find a happy ending, I guess it would make sense that it would be some silly herbivore with bad taste in men."
You looked up and shot him a glare, but he simply smirked and cupped your cheek.
"Are you truly certain I'm someone you want?"
You nodded, unable to say anything as his soft eyes searched yours. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then threaded his fingers through yours.
"Alright then. Let's find a happily ever after."
#1k followers#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#leona x reader#leona kingscholar#twst leona
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(i want to be polite so you can tag or delete, TW for abuse, suicide, cults)
AITA for running out on my boyfriend while he's having a panic attack?
Some background: I (28M) have been best mates with L (28M) for just about nine and a half years. We met at a party when we were young and he was positively pissed that night, absolutely drunker than he needed to be, and he cane up to me because I've got "a trustworthy face". L convinced me to climb up on the roof with him and we watched the stars and talked, and we've been attached at the hip ever since.
L and I got an apartment together a year or so after that and we lived pretty well together for a while. I thought I was starting to have feelings for him, but he'd always been straight, so I never pursued—however, I did sort of dedicate myself to making his life easier for a while (L's always suffered from depression and anxiety, so I tried to make it easier). This was all fine, until he got with E (F27). To make a long story short, E was an absolute mess. She manipulated and abused him for YEARS. L used to turn up at home with welts, and he had a different excuse every time.
It was a nightmare. It was the worst I'd ever seen him. He was at the end of his rope and it was her fault; one day I came home and all I could see was blood, it was awful. In the note L left he said he didn't want to break up with E because he was scared of what would happen, so that was his only option. He survived, luckily, and found the courage to break up with her. Oddly enough, nothing exceedingly bad happened, but she did somehow make his attempt all about herself.
Anyways, a month or so later, L disappeared without a trace. I left the house for less than an hour, and he was gone. Come to find out some weeks later, he'd run off to an abandoned mansion in the middle of the woods and convened with S (???God), who was somehow WORSE than E.
Because I'm stupid, I followed him there. I forgot my name and my profession, pretty much anything from my life was gone, but I was devoted to keeping L and S happy. They called me 2.
(This all seems irrelevant but bear with me here)
Basically at some point I scorned S by looking at L's face while I was trying to take care of him, and S decided to try and kill me slowly so nobody would notice I died. That didn't work. It turns out, L DID like me, and he'd been starting to remember our old lives and he LOST IT. He broke the bond with the god and I found out how insanely devoted we were to each other in what I thought were my last moments, it was a whole Thing. The most romantic thing I've ever experienced, actually.
So we made it back to the real world, and we were happy for a while after a LONG time of physical recovery, which brings us to yesterday. L had been acting really jumpy and scared for a while and I honestly thought it was my fault. L got really ill really suddenly, sporting a 38.6 C fever last time I checked. He wasn't eating, sleeping, his handwriting was scribbles and he couldn't focus long enough to form a chord on his keyboard.
I tried to cheer him up and make him some broth to sip on, but he just wasn't receptive; L seemed really set on pretending I wasn't even there, which kind of hurt my feelings. Suddenly, his phone buzzed and I saw it was E, who he shouldn't even be in contact with, sending a picture of a positive pregnancy test and saying she was keeping it.
L locked down even harder and I was just confused for a while. I thought she was even worse than I thought and did the unspeakable, but he told me that they met up, and he cheated on me.
With his abusive ex.
I found out the hard way that only L's bond with S was broken, because I wasn't able to think for myself- I was just so shocked. I remember thinking that I wasn't myself, and that it would be easier if I went back to the mansion, because human relationships were trivial and S was sorry and missed me, and I'd be taken care of if I "returned", so I waited until our other roommates (also victims of S) got to the driveway and I walked straight out the front door while he was having a panic attack. One of our roommates luckily stopped me from rejoining the god, and now I've had some time to reflect.
Here's where I think I might be TA. L obviously absolutely lost the plot and he didn't mean what he did (even though I can never forgive him for it, I know he didn't mean it), he was incredibly sick, and he's not ready IN THE SLIGHTEST to be a father. And I guess he doesn't think that E should be a mother, either, because before I left I heard him crying about how the kid was gonna grow up broken. So on the one hand, he needed me, but on the other hand he cheated on me. I just want to know if I was right to remove myself from the situation while he was in crisis.
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So here's an ask for Dr. Facilier, smut if you don't mind. How about a scenario where Facilier catches his S/O, flirting with another guy who's younger and wealthier than he is, so he gets jealous, and decides to punish his S/O, to show her who she really belongs to, even after she tells him the other guy is just a friend. Bonus points if the Shadow is involved as well. Like, just, jealous Facilier punishing his S/O for being nice to a rich dude.
I apologize if the ask isn't clear enough, it's my first time sending a request of this kind, and English isn't my first language. If you don't want to do it, that's perfectly fine too, and thank you! 😊
I've been neglecting all my non Encanto people out there- I'm sorry but I'm balls deep in 200+ asks, spare me-
Facilier loved parties. The richer the host the better. Perfect place to smuggle all sorts of goodies. You'd be amazed at how lax the rich were during social events, they were practically on their hands and knees BEGGING you to rob them blind. And who was Facilier to tell them no?
"Think she's still keepin' 'em busy?"
His girl was doing him a solid by entertaining the crowd as he snuck off into the house (mansion more like), all by being pretty as a picture, and social as a butterfly. He chuckled at his shadow's grin.
"You right, you right. Anyone can handle it, she can."
He loved that bitch. She had his back no matter what, and she almost wanted to make him faithful. Almost. He climbed back down the stairs, about to make it back to the dining hall, when his shadow stopped him, shaking his head.
"What are you?..."
He followed his shadow's pointing finger. He didn't think anything of it, seeing her talk to some guy. But then he listened.
"I'm just saying, it's a REAL nice addition to my room. Do you know how expensive silk sheets are nowadays?"
"No, but I take it you want me to find out~"
Now he was used to her flirting with people, mainly as a distraction to help him get to their wallets. But this...this wasn't that. She was earnestly flirting with some younger guy. A RICH younger guy. She was letting him keep her between herself and the snack table. The space between them was so non existent, he could practically picture his boner against her. In the dress HE nabbed for her. Now, he didn't blame her for this, she was his, he knew that.
He blamed this snotty little shit for trying to get up in her ruffles, all while he knew he still sucking on the teats of his rich parents. He didn't earn a babe like her. And yet, here he was, tempting her with silk sheets. To say he was angry was putting it lightly. He took a deep breath, keeping himself from hitting this guy upside his head. He put his mask back over his face as he stepped back into the party, and their eyes met. She knew that signal meant 'let's go, now'.
"Hey, let's catch up later, yeah? I gotta go."
She slithered past his grasp, only to have the guy grab her hand, bringing it close to his face.
"Okay okay! But you better promise, a man can only survive without a woman for so long~"
He damn near lost his mind as he tried to reach down to kiss her hand. Thankfully, Shadow had his back. By yanking both him, and the entire table of snacks. And THAT was why Facilier never wore white. The party seemed distracted by rich boy, which let him grab her wrist, and walk right outside. No one. NO ONE, stole from Shadowman.
-----------------------
"Did you almost get caught? Why'd we leave so fast?"
You had no idea what got into him. Just that when you both made it back to his shop, he said nothing, just started emptying his pockets. You started to get out of this stupid dress, relieved to be out of such a stuffy event. You were in your underwear by the time he stood there, staring at you.
"You wanna tell me who pretty boy was back there?"
You looked him over, absolutely confused.
"What are you talking about?"
He was genuinely pissed, even Shadow took a step back as he approached you, scowl ugly and pointer finger angry.
"That pretty boy I caught you with. The one with the 'silk sheets'. Oh yeah, YOU REMEMBER, I see it in your damn eyes!"
He was talking about your old friend. The one you've flirted with since like, high school. He just happened to come from a rich family. You huffed at him, hands on your hips.
"That 'pretty boy' was an old friend. An old friend who invited me to the party, which helped YOU pilfer their shit! If anything you should be thanking him!"
Oh that set him off. He grabbed onto your face, fingers gripping onto your skin and forcing you to look up at him. You wanted to push him off of you, but Shadow was holding your hands behind your back, keeping you from fighting against him.
"You think imma thank a richy little snot nose shitstain? I think you're gettin' too damn comfy around these fancy boys. You forgettin' your place."
That was when it clicked. He was jealous. Jealous of a well off, younger man taking you from him. You were about to tell him he was absolutely crazy for being so immature, when he pressed his lips against yours. It was firm, it was sloppy, it was angry. And you hated how much you liked it, how much you could taste the alcohol that still clung to his lips. He seemed amused when Shadow grew Impatient, letting a cold hand trickle down your stomach, to between your legs. He always liked it when you jumped. He pulled your face away, taking a slow lick of the drool that was stuck to your bottom lip.
"No rich boy can fuck you like I can. Imma remind you of that, doll."
He wouldn't let go of your face as he leaned in to kiss your neck, your collarbone, teeth grazing against your skin. His other hand slipped off your bra like some magic trick, and grabbed a handful of your chest, kneading it in his hold. Facilier didn't have much, but he always had the gift of touch, and he used that against you as much as he could.
"You're jealous of him. You think he's going to take me from you."
He didn’t like the truth. He really didn't. Shadow seemed to catch on to some signal he was giving, and he yanked you to your knees on the floor. Facilier dug his tactile fingers into your hair, and held onto your head as he pulled his cock out. You felt the frenum piercing rub against your skin as he rubbed it in your face, as if seeking to humiliate you.
"You wanna open that mouth so much, make it useful."
He didn't let you give a response as he slipped it past your lips. The metal grazed against your tongue, and you tasted the ever familiar saltiness of his long, somewhat thin cock. You held onto his thighs as you savored his taste, despite how angry you were at him acting like a goddamn child. But Shadow was no better. One hand squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple, while his other hand rubbed your wet clit in little circles. He liked to play with you, while Facilier liked to abuse you. And you liked it, unfortunately. You could feel your fluids cascade down your thighs and drip onto his floor.
"Shit-get up here. Give me MY goddamn pussy."
Shadow pushed his chair towards him, letting him sit down, before you obeyed. You got onto his lap, hovering over his spit covered length. You swiped the hat off of his head, forcing him to look at you.
"You're so fucking petty. All of this because my old friend hit on me-"
"And you were NICE to him. People think I'M a scumbag, but mon chéri, that fancy fucking cockroach thinkin' he can talk to you. I can't stand it. The idea of him even THINKING about what belongs to me..."
That set him off. He dug his nails into your ass, and after Shadow helped peel off those ruined panties, he pushed himself into you. Facilier wasn't a stretcher, but he was long, reaching deep down inside of you. He forced your ass down with every thrust into you, your wet cunt making the skin on skin contact ever louder. You wanted to tell him that this was ridiculous. But if it wasn't the dick making your vision fill up with stars, it was Shadow's fingers in your mouth, forcing your drooling tongue to stick out, that kept you silent.
And he adored it. You felt his tongue graze against yours in between thrusts, wanting to taste every bit of you.
"Imma empty these balls right into you. If any rich bitch wants to be in this fucking pussy, they gotta deal with MY cum. I want 'em to see it drippin' from you, I want 'em to be fucking jealous. They didn't earn this. I did. ME."
Something about owning something they didn't always got him going. It was enough for him to grit his teeth, and pour himself right into you. You'd think he'd stop as he came, but he didn't. Not just to help you reach your own climax, but because it overstimulated him. He liked feeling overwhelmed when he fucked you, he loved pushing himself to the point where it felt like he'd pass out. And watching his face, furious, exhausted, dripping in sweat, and knowing he just finished inside of you, it was too much.
You came right after, and even then, he didn't stop. He didn't stop as he kissed you during your climax, as his lap was a mess of your combined fluids. He only stopped when he heard that all too pathetic mewl from your throat, begging for him to stop, just for a second. Shadow pulled away from you, finally letting your mouth free as you both sat there, sweaty and just absolutely filthy. He looked good when he finished, eyes hazy, mouth pouring panted breath into the air. You pressed yourself against him, slicking his sweaty hair back and out of his face.
"You wanna know why I won't leave you for someone with deep pockets?"
"Because you know I'd be the worst ex you've ever had?"
You snorted as you stroked his cheek. He had such nice cheekbones.
"That too. But mostly because I love you. You're as petty and jealous as you are pretty."
"Is it petty if he's tryin' to take what's MINE?"
"Yes. Yes it is."
You kissed his cheek, and he huffed bitterly.
"Listen, only one who gets to fuck you is me. And Shadow, unfortunately. I've tried to get rid of him, believe me."
Shadow grumbled bitterly, only to melt as soon as you stroked his chin. You kinda had to, or he'd get pissy all day.
"Eh, I like him. And you. You literally couldn't pay me to keep me away from you."
"Hey, I'm the pretty words in this relationship."
He scoffed, as if he didn't believe you. But when you leaned over to pull a couple of rolled up bills from your bra to show it to him, he seemed just a hit more convinced.
"That's my girl~....alright, alright. You got me."
"And dinner. Come on, clean up."
You slowly tore yourself off of him, about to hop into the washroom, when you felt his hands on your thighs. You looked at that grin on his face as he slowly dragged his tongue over your cum covered folds.
"I can help you clean up, dolly~"
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9, 4 and 18 of the Tav's asks for your Kitrye!
Thanks!
9. If they had to be put in a "get along shirt" with a companion, who would it be?
For...I want to say about 4/5 of her run, Kitrye fucking HATED Astarion. He was, hands down, her least favorite companion, her worstie, the guy who she was forced to bring along with her on missions for lockpicking purposes and then disapproved of everything she did. It got to the point where she would make decisions DELIBERATELY to piss him off more. "Oh, you don't LIKE IT when I free the gnomes from slavery? I'll even do it WITHOUT CHARGING THEM ANYTHING." "Oh :( Astarion's dead :( Let me run around a little before I resurrect him" Etc. etc. It began sometime around him making various racist comments in the first act, then with him rejecting her at the tiefling party (on the record, she was never interested in him -- he just rejected her off the bat and then she was furious at the presumption) that then ballooned into "I should be able to kill people because I had a sad life and if you disagree, you don't know what it's like to suffer" which...Kitrye....long-standing survivor of parental abuse...currently on the run from said parent...did not take well.
He is the reason that "Sorry About Your Parents" is on her character playlist. In order to get giffing material, I did romance "Astarion" in an AU, using mods to swap Astarion's character model with Raphael's, but for the first scene, Kitrye just looked...incredibly uncomfortable. Worst thing I've ever done to her, even beyond having her break her vow. Poor thing.
Anyway, when she went to confront Cazador, things had improved slightly, but she was still prepared to kill him rather than have him go along with the ritual -- she was NOT going to let an ascended vampire walk Faerûn. (And I wasn't going to reload my save if she did, I was willing to let it be whatever it was.) Only for him to redeem himself, save the other vampire spawn, and for her to break her oath. It was very, very bittersweet for her, and it made the lack of care about her breaking her oath/focusing on Astarion from the other companions even more heartbreaking, because it was a mixture of knowing she OUGHT to be happy for him and also being kind of like "I've been here since Day One doing this, I just lost my life's purpose, and I got barely a pat on the head or anyone expressing an ounce of sympathy, while Astarion can do the bare minimum of not being a dick and gets showered with praise, where's my respect?"
And it's funny because the vast majority of my other characters actually LOVE Astarion, so this is TRULY a Kitrye Thing. (Her daughter Anathematisma is actually currently sleeping with him, as of this point in her run.) (God help both of them.)
It did make for a very satisfying epilogue though, seeing Astarion settled and the two of them comfortable with one another. (It didn't matter, because of the way the epilogue is set up, but she actually did add Sebastian's letter to her inventory, just to remind herself that it was worth it.)
4. How do they sleep with their LI?
Kitrye is the little spoon, with him usually having his face buried in her neck. If he's in his cambion form, he tends to curl his tail around her in some way, especially around the legs, in a gesture that's simultaneously protective and possessive. When they were in Menzoberranzan together, she tended to get nightmares as a little present from Lolth, and, on those occasions, he got accustomed to wrapping his wings around her, both to shield her and also to not-so-politely remind Lolth that she was already spoken for. (Always with some pragmatic excuse because, after all, He Doesn't Actually Love Her, Love Is A Weakness, etc. etc. etc.) In his human form, he's more likely to have his arms wrapped around her waist. Given that he's essentially a living furnace, he's often quite literally too hot to handle in either form, and she has definitely woken up in a sweat because he was too close to her and that, combined with Avernus being itself, makes for a ridiculously smothering warmth, but she's also very protective of every bit of genuine intimacy that they have together, especially since Raphael's very selective about how often he's willing to demonstrate it. A couple of centuries or so, post-game, it's actually a stipulation in the contract that is Not NOT A Devilish Marriage Contract Between Them (over 500 pages and counting) that The Archdevil Raphael Is Obliged To Come to Bed No Later Than 2 AM. While he will be the first to try to find loopholes as a way to stay scheming in his office for longer into the early morning, he's equally protective of that time together in his own way, it isn't a one-sided thing, and he was actually the one to stay over first, much to her shock (of all the ways she'd pegged him, in various ways, shapes, and forms, she hadn't pegged the devil as the sort to stay after sex for a cuddle), but, when they're not in the bedroom, he tends to be incredibly reserved, especially early on when he was still navigating having Squishy Feelings at ALL, so it's a very important space for the two of them besides the obvious.
Sometimes, when infernal politics are getting to be too much, they change things up, with her letting him fall asleep on her lap, often while she strokes his hair or plays the lyre to soothe him a little. This applies to all of his forms, including, when things are VERY bad, his Ascended Fiend form.
18. What modern day TV show would they binge over the weekend? Do they get their LI to watch with them?
I think that there are two distinct stages in what Kitrye would be interested in. In her early character development, shows like Succession and Game of Thrones would be a little too real for her, but as she gets more cynical and calculating, I think they'd appeal. It's funny because I'm extremely critical of a lot of his stuff (and from what I've seen of how they adapted it), but I think that she would really like Mike Flanagan's Fall of the House of Usher -- horrible people plotting (just like home) and getting exactly what they deserve, a devilish character weaving her way in and out of the narrative...for Kitrye later in her character development, it's perfect.
In her earlier years, she's going to go for shows that emphasize hope and overcoming the odds -- and since she does love animals and has some skills in animal handling, it might be shows like, say, My Cat From Hell (which her companions have absolutely memed by putting Raphael's face over the image of the cat in the ad and Kitrye's face over Jackson's.) Kitrye has a taste for the high life and culture, so it wouldn't be anything TOO trashy, unfortunately.
Given that Kitrye has proficiency in History and Religion (she multi-classes as a cleric), I'm not sure whether she would ENJOY period dramas or nitpick them. (She decides to spend one evening watching the 2011 Jane Eyre and Crimson Peak and has to take a very, very long moment to look at her life, look at her choices.) If Raphael keeps his canon age, she would absolutely bring him along just for him to poke holes in the accuracy. For what it's worth, Raphael in any verse is much more keen to drag her to a theatre production -- he has a regular box reserved at several prominent opera houses after making a deal with the various owners.
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Oh boy… Here we go… "Oh look! Another entitled trans streamer bitching about Twitch! What a shocker! Quick! Let's make fun of her in the comments and call her names and slurs!" Yeah, yeah, get your insults out now. Okay… Ya done? Awesome. Okay, so this is the first time I have ever written a full script for something like this, but trust me, this is going to likely contain a lot of rambling and nonsense. And yeah, I'm gonna bitch about something, and it's going to sound like I'm entitled, but I need to vent my frustrations for a little bit and I want the world to hear what I am going through. So… To start out, hi, I'm Yulikitten, and I am a trans streamer. That word, "trans" is likely a red flag for all of you, and yeah, I can predict the "you'll never be a woman," or the "attack helicopter," or the "40 percent jokes" from a mile away. This shit is nothing new to me and I persist despite those jokes. Like, I'm not going to disappear just because you use a lot of anti-trans jokes and rhetoric against me. And yes, I have been called a groomer before. I have heard it all and I've dealt with it all.
So… I'm a streamer who's been struggling for a little while now. For now, I think it could just be Twitch's algorithm being dog shit, or my shockingly ordinary life that has no flavor leading me to being a boring conversationalist. That could be it, or I'm just playing vidya games wrong. It could be a number of factors, but the point is, I have been struggling. A lot. Struggling to gain followers, struggling to gain subs, struggling to hold a conversation, etc, etc. You name it, and I'm probably struggling with it. Am I boring? Yeah, definitely. Absolutely, 100%. I also try to be VERY nice on stream. Like… Very nice. I've delved into the realm of toxicity before, trust me. However it doesn't work. I should know. I tried that shit. No results, and in fact, I've lost followers over being toxic. Therefore I don't do it anymore. Now, with as of this writing 1323 followers, you may be thinking, "wow! You're still doing better than 95% of the platform, and you're acting… ENTITLED?!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU STUPID CU-" and yeah, I agree. I am acting entitled and I know it. But that's not gonna stop me from ranting about my numbers.
I know I'm mediocre. I know I suck. I know I'm terrible. I've been told that my entire life. I act like an asshole because finally SOMETHING SEEMED to be going my way, but as of late, it's been feeling more like things haven't gone my way and it sucks. A good thing was happening to me, and I am suddenly finding myself in a spiraling decline. Now, I'm not here to spill my guts about how I need you all to feel sorry for me. Shit has been difficult my entire life. I'm used to, and am tired of being pitied. I'm tired of being treated like a fucking loser and a failure. So… It's my goal to get… Living comfortably enough from livestreaming and to not have to work a real labor job. I know that's asking for a lot, and it is.
The core of my rant today is to just spill my guts about my low viewership numbers and my lower follower gain. I know every streamer faces this kind of thing. It's not unique to me, and it won't ever be unique to me. I've been noticing this decline since April. I've poured over my data and have deduced that since I stopped playing Guilty Gear Strive, a game that I love but am taking an extended hiatus from due to hypernatremia. In other words, Guilty Gear was pissing me off and I've been avoiding it. Street Fighter 6, as of late, is likely going to end up the same way, if I'm being honest. I think the core of my decline is probably linked to the platform itself and the fact that I do so much better with an active chat. I love talking to my community, but when my community doesn't talk to me… Well, I get tight-lipped and I genuinely can't help it. This isn't a uniquely me issue, either.
I think I just suck at streaming, and I need to get better at it. I need to get better at editing, marketing, etc. I want to do streaming and content creation full-time and I feel like shit for not being able to make it happen after two years. I feel depressed and not worthy of anything, despite my community telling me otherwise, and I know… I know that other content creators are going to call me out for this post. I know they will. Moist Critikal will, and he's going to make fun of me and I don't blame him. I just… I need to get this off my chest that I feel like an absolute loser and a failure and I wish I just didn't feel that way.
I'm not asking you to just drop everyone and go follow me on Twitch. I'm not going to ask that people subscribe. This is just a rant to vent my frustrations and feelings. I need to get this into a tangible form before I fucking explode. Consider this… A publicly available diary entry that everyone can read!
Anyway… Follow me if you want to, I don't blame you if you don't. Link is in the post.
PS. I'm considering streaming on Kick. I don't want to because it has a huge Nazi problem, but I've been looking at Twitch taking L after L, and it's looking very tempting. Well… That's it. See ya
#twitch#twitch affiliate#vtuber#vtubers#small streamer#trans liberation#trans#just hear me out#rant#twitch sucks#i need a hug#i need help#small streamer problems#small twitch streamer#small vtuber#please help
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I’m not transabled (and I am disabled) and I do feel like the thing as a whole is a huge mess of everything but… I don’t think “cisabled” implies privilege? Cisgender does because cisgender people objectively and undeniably have privilege over transgender people, but on its own “cis” means just “on this side” and “trans” on the other…
No, not inherently. At the base definition of the word. My post (which is an old one lol so, genuinely, thanks for digging that up, I've been wanting to go into more detail on it) is a response to the connotation of the word. And how it's used.
Here's the earliest in-earnest post I could find on "cisabled":
As far as I can tell, the term "transabled" was inspired by both the transgender and transspecies communities, and physical or psychological transition (I do not know how they intend to psychologically transition) is the central point. "Transabled" as a term is derivative of "transgender," and it seems to me that the coiners of the word were not aware that the trans in transgender is not short for transition, because every definition of transabled I see is centered around this transition.
With "transabled" being derivative of transgender, if you follow the line of thinking here, it's clear that "cisabled" is derivative of "cisgender." Cisgender in almost all contexts implies privilege. No matter what the root word means, or whether the coiners didn't intend it, the coining of "cisabled" implies that the cisabled group holds some privilege over the transabled group. And by including disabled people in this group, frankly, it pisses me off. (Sorry it's 4 am and I lost my train of thought a little bit there.)
OP of what I think is the coining post here describes physically disabled people as "making a choice to remain in their [disabled] body." Unless I forgot somehow, my chronic pain wasn't a choice, my autism wasn't a choice, my mental illness was not a choice, and none of them "constitute normality" in an ableist society. Ableism as a system does not differentiate between people who were born with missing limbs and people who removed them through surgery, it leaves neither with any kind of abled privilege. But that also has to mean it doesn't differentiate between a "transautistic" person, and an allistic person. Or a "transdeaf" person and a hearing person. Etc. People who identify as transabled cannot claim marginalization, they are abled in a world that wants them to be abled and celebrates them for being abled. They cannot claim oppression especially at the hands of disabled people desperately trying to hold our spaces together. I have seen people get up in arms about gatekeeping, comparing us to transmeds, comparing us to TERFs for telling them they are not disabled. All cisabled is to me is an ableist term.
I can't even respond to this properly. It makes me sick. I hope it's a troll. Gender and race are not the same thing. Gender and disability are not the same thing. The sheer lack of nuance in these communities is astounding. And the surplus of nerve is nothing short of disgusting.
For what it's worth, I'm all for bodily autonomy. I think that if a person with BIID wanted to (edit: safely!) remove one of their limbs or one of their senses, then they should. But it doesn't make me a violent transphobe to say that an abled person is not disabled, or that an allistic person can't just say they're "socially transitioning" to autistic, because disability is not the same kind of social category as gender. And neither is race, while we're at it.
Please come back and tell me if this doesn't make sense. But do it after 1 pm because I don't think I've slept in the past 24 hours. And I'm gonna go to bed now.
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My life is about to change. I think it's for the better, but, I know it will be rocky here soon.
With my most recent raise it is technically just barely affordable for me to move in with my GF, she has needs that make it additionally difficult to afford our first place but, here we are the precipice.
I'll start with my minor practical concern, all these years, my GF has never seen me lose my temper. I think this is largely luck, but nonetheless, she is used to me as a goofy, sarcastic nerd who is always kind, caring patient, & in no rush. I'll own up to all these traits but the last one, bc, I specifically clear 1-2 days a week just for her every week, rarely does anything disrupt this & if it does, usually, I can put it off till the next day so I continue unphazed.
So, besides when she was with me when I was wrongfully evicted on the same day my dad broke his leg, she's never seen me angry/severely frustrated & this was only for a few moments. I've warned her since we met 5 years ago that I have a temper, I'm loud, & I will just explode, not at anyone, usually it's just stomping, shouting profanity, & breaking cheap or already trashed objects. Unfortunately, I've never met anyone else who can shout louder than me, & sub blow up anger I've accidentally thrown full size couches & broken doors & shit (examples of accidental damage, if I'm actually destructively mad I'll break break something affordable, ie. Split firewood). So, tldr, she's never seen me blow a fuse.
In the paste gf said, for trauma reasons, shed leave me if I ever yelled at her. Many years & frustrations later I still haven't but before moving in, there's a few things we need to discuss, this was included. She's said, 'I don't think I could ever leave you no matter what, but if you yelled at me I'd have to get out, I'd spend the night or a few at my parents.' that's a wave of relief & I still don't think I'll yell at her, but that's a point of differing definitions:
If I yelled AT her, I'd understand that to be loudly, "[profanity] [context laden with profanity] fuck you! Fuck, [topical exclamations & profanity]" If that doesn't make sense, what I mean is, if I yell at someone, I'm mad at them, I'm rude, hurtful, loud, etc.
She still considers any yelling in her presence, or that she finds out about later, that is related to her at all to be yelling at her. Case & point, she took it personally when I was pissed & venting about a supplier she recommended me to, even though my frustration was purely me vs. Supply company.
Hopefully it is no surprise that I love her immensely but it worries me. Like, it's inevitable that we will have our first fight that's actually a fight (both of us think we're right without yielding (up until now our minor or civil fights have been one sided typically she thinks she's right, I know I'm right, & I politely wait it out until she calms down or realizes what I said makes sense)). I think I'll behave just fine, save for volume, but I hate that it feels like I'll lose her for something that's just me. (To clarify, not in her presence I've only lost my temper maybe 5 times in 5 of the most frustrating years of existence & only once in a matter related to her so it's not like I'm a loose cannon or a source of trouble, I'd say the empirical evidence points to me being 99.9% chill (😎)).
I use to many "( )" sorry.
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to start off (owarimonogatari)
i guess a fitting first post would be to talk about monogatari because i'm kind of hyperfixated on it right now.
i watched through, i wouldn't say most of, but a good chunk of the monogatari series anime last year, up through the end of koimonogatari. i don't really know why i stopped, i guess i just kind of convinced myself, "oh, the last story is called hitagi end, clearly this must be the end of the series." needless to say i was very wrong.
i found out about hanamonogatari and into final season from a video essay i watched a few months later, thus spoiling a LOT of stuff for myself. i was really pissed off at myself for just stopping halfway through but it was also just a hilariously stupid situation to get myself into.
so here we are about a year and a half later, and i've finally set off to finish the anime. hana and tsukimonogatari were fun stories about my two favorite characters in the whole series (kanbaru and ononoki, obviously), but what i want to get into is owarimonogatari.
(i know that koyomimonogatari comes first in the order of the light novels, and i did watch most of it before i started owari, but the anime did it weird so i decided i'd finish it later. also, from this point on, i'm gonna stop putting the monogatari at the end of titles. we know what we're talking about. moving on.)
starting owari was a very refreshing experience. i had felt that, while hana and tsuki were both really good stories, they kind of lacked the "what the fuck is happening right now" vibe that has really become synonymous with monogatari for me, which is why i was honestly very glad to sit through the first half of ougi formula feeling like i was just having words spoken at me. and, let's be real, that's kind of all ougi formula was. i think the story it told was really interesting and a great way to set up the following episodes, but there's only so much you can do with two people sitting in a classroom for 50 minutes.
one reason i was excited to finally start owari was because i finally got to learn who the fuck sodachi is. being around the internet as a fan of the series, you hear a lot of people talk about how "sodachi oikura is the pinnacle of character writing". and while i do agree that she was very well written (and acted) in the short amount of screen time that she got, there's just no way she can come anywhere as close to my heart as kanbaru, i'm sorry. that's just the way things are.
i really enjoyed sodachi riddle and sodachi lost less for the titular character and more for the depth that they added to araragi as a character. to the best of my recollection at this point in time, i don't think there had been that much about his past up to this point in the story, so getting to get a glimpse through sodachi was super cool to me. i'm glad we end up getting more of sodachi in the later novel seasons past what's been licensed in the states, because i do want to see her grow as a character and as a person with the bit of closure and resolve she got through araragi and hanekawa (and ougi).
as of writing this i'm two episodes into shinobu mail, and i must say i am beside myself with joy for the direction the story seems to be taking. we've gotten a little bit of a glimpse into shinobu's past through the kizu movies and throughout second season (i am positive that it was mostly restricted to a certain arc but i cannot for the life of me figure out which it was without rewatching the whole thing, because i don't think it was shinobu time, but correct me if i'm wrong), but having her former servant (allegedly) come back from beyond the grave as an apparition has the potential to add a whole new angle to the whole thing.
side tangent. i bought volumes 17 and 18 of the bakemonogatari manga today and read through about the back half of 17 (the first half just seemed like your standard adaptation of neko black), and i was bewildered by the connection to what i'm watching in the anime. some random ghost-like apparition showing up that apparently only hachikuji can see, that looks like a suit of armor and saying it was looking for shinobu, MY GOD oh!great is on some shit and i am HERE for it.
moving swiftly along.
i'm very excited to get to continue into owari, because the later stories (particularly mayoi hell) are bound to be very intriguing after all the shit that the characters have gone through at this point.
that'll about do it for this post. much longer than i had anticipated but that's just what happens sometimes. if you found this and read through the whole thing, i appreciate the commitment. stick around if you wanna read more mindless ramblings from yours truly.
またねー
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Introductions and Dynamics Check
So, here's some crap I wrote about the new guy. I did three short bits, one from each guy's point of view. It's not meant to be cohesive . . . it's just bits and pieces of testing out the feel and dynamics of things. I don't usually post these, but I like him and I wanted to share.
There's no sneeze in the first one or the third one, so if you're looking for a fuckton of fetish fodder, I'm not there yet. But it's in the second one.
Hope you'll give it a read just the same.
_____________________________
TEST ONE: MIAMI POV
"Miami. . . "
Knocking on the bedroom door. Seriously? Why didn't he just come inside? It's not like they weren't fucking. . .
"Miami? Are . . . you awake?"
More knocking. Jesus fucking Christ.
He rolls onto his back with a grumble. "Fuck, Cas. Just come the hell in, what the fuck."
A head full of golden curls peeks around the edge of the door frame. "Well, you said not to wake you up."
"I did?" Miami scratches his head, further ruffling his hot mess of an excuse for hair. "Must have been my answering machine."
Caspian tilts his head. "Huh?"
"Nevermind." Miami motions for him to come inside.
Caspian kind of tip-toe walks in and sits on the edge of the bed, like he's worried Miami might bite him in the ass or something.
Not unless it's foreplay. . .
"Well?"
The other man blinks and shakes his head. "Ah, sorry. I was totally staring at your naked. . . everything."
Miami chuckles. "Sorry I'm too hot for you, lorienho."
"Whatever." Caspian rolls his eyes, but doesn't mean it. "Anyway, we've got a problem. A big one." He runs a hand through his profusion of curls, expression turning serious. "Collen just walked."
Aaand now Miami is really fucking awake. "Like quit walked?"
Caspian nods. "Like gone. Took his gear, took his stuff, everything."
"That mother fucker." Miami shoves a hand through his hair, an echo of Caspian's nervous habit. "So, you're telling me we have no fucking bass player tomorrow."
"Yep." Caspian makes a hand gesture that is something between frustrated and lost. "We're gonna have to cancel. People are gonna be pissed, man."
"The fuck we are." Miami snatches his phone from the nightstand.
"Dude." Caspian huffs a sigh. "If you're looking for a sub, I've called literally everyone that we know in LA and we're totally screwed."
Miami taps on his contacts. "LA is bullshit. You want a bassist or a studio jockey that thinks he's a bassist?"
“I mean, obviously the first one. But, who-”
Miami waves him off as he pulls up the text window. “Shut up a minute so I can think.” When Caspian looks more than a little indignant, he smirks. “I can give you something to put in your mouth, if you want.”
“Oh my gods, bye.”
Caspian hops off the bed and pretends like he’s going to leave, but he isn’t going anywhere. Too damn nosy for that. And too interested in Miami’s naked body. Heh.
The notification bell on the phone dings and Miami glances at it before tossing it back onto the nightstand. “There. One bass player. Done.”
“Now, wait a minute.” Caspian plants his hands on hips. “You know this is my band, right? Think maybe you should have run it by me first?”
Miami sprawls chest down across the top of the duvet, naked as hell and not giving one single fuck. “Did anyone run it by you when they hired me?”
Caspian snorts. "I hired you, stupid." He strolls back towards the bed. "Of course, that was after I watched a video of you. Had to make sure you looked like a rock star."
"Oh yeah?" Miami arches an eyebrow before slowly rolling onto his back. "And do I?"
Caspian tilts his head, blue-green eyes flashing bright. “Oh yeah. You do.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“You know,” Miami says. “Putting your hair in a ponytail ain’t gonna keep people from recognizing you.”
“Shut up, I know that.” Caspian adjusts his sunglasses before peering over the edge of the rims. “If you had as much hair as me, you’d want it out of your face sometimes, too.”
“Lies.” Miami runs a hand through his own locks, which have grown at least two inches since he joined Caspian’s band.
Even without the wild curls, Miami’s hair is thick and ridiculous all on its own. Coloring it was a bitch.
“People are staring at us, anyway.” Caspian dispenses with the sunglasses and perches them on top of his head. “Just part of the job.”
“Look, whatever.” Miami glances at the gate and nods towards where passengers are now deplaning. “Fuck yeah, there he is.”
“Where? I don’t—-oh. Oh my gods.” Caspian grabs his arm and Miami snickers. “Is-is that . . .?”
“Yeah. I told you I knew people.”
Maybe now, Caspian would stop freaking out about rehearsing before the gig. Because they wouldn’t need to. Not with this guy.
His old friend looks pretty much the same, save the fact that his hair is as long as Miami’s now, streaked with strands of silver here and there. Might have some new ink, too. Damn, he needed to pay a visit to his own artist at some point. But yeah, the same basic shit. Ripped jeans, mirrored sunglasses, black shirt that was either purposefully “distressed” or worn to all to shit, old school biker boots, and a bass gig bag slung over his back.
“Hey, fuck off,” he was saying to one of the attendants attempting to offer him a hand with his bag. “I’ve got it.”
Yep. Same attitude, too.
“Well, I see they’re letting anybody get on planes these fucking days,” Miami says as his friend pushes past some guy that’s taking too long to adjust his tie.
“Shocked you’re still alive,” the other man says.
But he drops his bag and gives Miami a hug just the same, complete with a hard slap on the back.
“Asshole,” Miami says with a smirk. He turns to Caspian, who is doing his best to look nonchalant and failing all over the place. “So, you know who this fucker is.”
“I do!” Caspian sounds more like an enthusiastic child than a grown-ass man, but that’s pretty much standard. “Miami wouldn’t tell me who was coming, but I wasn’t expecting this.” He smacks Miami on the shoulder less-than-playfully. “You didn’t tell me you knew The Dragon, jackass.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t tell me he was playing with Caspian St. Claire, either. Thought his dumb ass was still in LA, dicking around with that ‘solo career’ bullshit.” The bassist holds out his hand. “Blair Drago.” He slips the sunglasses off his nose with a smirk that can rival Miami’s expression on a good day. “But I’m guessing you know that.”
“Fuck yes, I know that.” Caspian shakes Blair’s hand with both of his, which is straight out hilarious, but totally expected. “I guess you know me, too?”
“Who the fuck doesn’t know you.” Blair adjusts the edge of the bandana tied around his head. “So, we gonna play some rock or what?”
“Uh, yeah.” Caspian laughs in that high, chime-like giggle of his and it draws the attention of approximately 72 people. “But let’s get some food first. Dragons eat raw fish, right?”
Blair chuckles. “I eat anything that doesn’t eat me first.”
________________________
TEST TWO: CASPIAN POV
“Sooo, I really don’t care how you do it. Like, it doesn’t have to be the way Collen played it or anything like that, just as long as . . .” Caspian’s voice trails off when Blair holds up his hand in a “stop” gesture.
Given that whole “slightly parted lips and short, shallow breathing” thing, Caspian has a pretty good idea what’s going to happen. And he probably shouldn’t stare, but he’s gonna.
Blair presses a knuckle to the side of his nose without the ring and cringes. "Fuuh–f-ffuhhck. . . uuh–RISSSH! Ehk'NGSSCH!"
A pause. A little squinting at the overhead lights. An insane amount of unproductive hitching.
"--hh! RISSSCHHIIUH! HgkTSSCHHu!"
Unlike Miami, he actually uses his napkin to wipe at his nose and shakes his head. “The fuck. What were you saying?”
What was he saying?
"Oh, uh. Something, something, bass playing," Caspian says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Whatever. Not important. Pretty sure you know my songs. And bless you."
“Thanks. I know your shit, yeah.” Blair taps the edge of his nose ring and winces. “Man, I knew I shouldn’t have fucked with this thing.”
“What do you mean?”
Of course he was going to ask. Fucking duh.
“I changed it,” he says. “Had a black one in there earlier. Thought it looked weird. Put the silver back in. Regretting my life choices.”
Caspian snort-laughs in an obnoxious, flustered fashion and Blair glances at him over the rim of his glass of water. “I make you nervous.”
It’s not a flirtation. It’s a factual observation.
“Well, yeah.” Caspian runs a hand through his hair, or tries to. Too much damn curl there. “I mean, you’ve played with people way better than me. Like, legends.”
Blair sets his glass down and looks at him. “That’s not why.”
But he doesn’t elaborate, which is weird. It’s not an attraction thing. Sure, the man had a hot sneeze and the looks to match, but it’s still something else. And Caspian isn’t going to address . . . whatever it is.
____________________________________________
TEST THREE: BLAIR POV
He pulls the cigarette out of the pack with his teeth and nudges it between his lips as he fishes for his lighter. The little metal bastard is hiding somewhere in his inner jacket pockets. Good for ear monitors. Not so good for lighters.
After way too much trouble, he finds the damn thing, sparks a flame, and puts it in the back pocket of his jeans this time. You know, with the goddamn smokes.
“That’ll kill you, you know,” Caspian says.
Blair exhales a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “Gotta die of something.”
“I mean, I guess.” Caspian laughs and Blair pushes the plate of small pastries towards him.
“Eat this. I don’t do sweet shit.”
If Blair was expecting polite refusal, he’s not getting it. Caspian’s reaction is immediate, almost automatic munching. Like he’s not even thinking about it.
He expels another cloud of smoke away from Caspian’s direction and smirks. “That shit’ll kill you, you know.”
“What? Sugar?” Caspian says around a mouthful of whatever kind of cake he’s just popped into his mouth. “Dude, I’d be dead by now, if that was a thing.”
Blair chuckles, takes a minute to readjust the bandana tied over his head and tucks the tip back behind the knot where it belongs. “So Miami gave this shit up.” He nods to the cigarette between his fingers. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
Caspian’s calculated annihilation of the cake squares stops. “Huh? He’s like, super allergic to smoke. No way he did that.”
“Fuck yes, he did.” Blair flicks a bit of ash onto the concrete. “He did a lot of shit.”
“Well, I knew about the coke.” Caspian eyes him with a tilt of his head. “What kind of shit?”
“Mmn, well. . .” Blair taps one longish nail on the wrought iron table. “I could tell you some things, kid.”
#Caspian St. Claire#Miami Santos#And introducing: Blair Drago#More on this guy soon#But feel free to ask me shit#If you wanna#Not a lot of snz here#But this is how I do it when I'm testing out dynamics
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Jason swore loudly and had to resist the urge to throw his controller down, pissed that he kept dying cause of the game's stupid glitches (Also known as own mistakes). Still, he regained his composure, and smiled before saying
"Alright chat, we're gonna finish up this one and then we're gonna move on to another game. There should be a poll on top for what we do next"
Jason was a moderately successfully game streamer, averaging about 200 to 300 viewers a night, entirely based on his wit and skill. He knew for sure that they weren't coming for his looks, given his weedy, thin frame, overly pimpled face and large, nerdy glasses. Still, it was enough for him, and he was happy with the progress that he'd made.
As Jason got himself set up for the next game, he heard a shocking sound from above him. The victory theme from one of his favorite JRPGs was blaring through the speakers, and he came up, staring at the screen in shock. He knew what that sound meant. That meant someone had tipped him one thousand dollars, completely out of nowhere.
He looked in shock at the notification on the stream, seeing that it was from someone named JockBro69, with the simple message "Can't wait to get to know you better, cutie~"
Jason was completely stunned. Not only had someone actually redeemed the donation goal that he set as a joke (That being that whoever was stupid enough to tip 1000 dollars got to have a 15 minute private chat with him), it was also someone that he'd never seen in his chat before.
Thoroughly weirded out, but knowing that he had to honor his commitment, he sent the guy a quick private message.
"Dude, I don't know how to thank you enough! Guess I'll see ya pretty soon!"
With that, he sent the man his private zoom link, and said goodbye to the chat, who were still going wild over this turn of events, before pausing,the stream and hopping over to discord for the call.
Not two seconds after his stream stopped, he got a requested video call on discord from the guy, and he opened it up, giving a second for the video to load, but when it did, he was completely dumbfounded again. He was expecting the mysterious donator to be some fat, sweaty silicon valley nerd with too much and money on his hands, but instead what met him was possibly the hottest man he's ever seen, standing up and looking down at his webcam with a friendly expression.
"Fuck, bro! Its so good to finally fucking meet you, I've been such a big fan for a long time, and this is a really big deal for me~
The man had a deep, rumbling, pleasant voice, that shot straight down Jacob's spine and left him feeling strangely... inadequate. Like the fact that his voice wasn't as smooth or melodic as this guy's was his fault, and he should be ashamed of that fact. Still, this guy was pretty pleasant to look at, Jason had to admit. He wasn't gay, definitely not, but he could acknowledge when another guy simply looked good.
Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he should do or say. Still, this guy spent 1000 dollars on this meeting, so he had to try anyway.
"So, umm.... I see your username is jockbro69... What's your actual name thought? I don't think I've ever seen you in chat before..."
The other man actually laughed at this, before looking confused and saying
"What are you talking about bro? Its me, Ethan! I'm in your chat all the time! Man, I guess what they say about playing games so much is true, huh?"
At this statement, Jason actually went pale with shock. THIS was Ethan? This was the guy who's username used to be runningLink? Who was an active fan of the zelda series, constantly begged Jason to play them, and bemoaned the fact that no would date him? It just didn't seem right...
Still, Jason, ever the semi professional, continued on, pretending that he wasn't shocked at the news.
"Well, thanks for supporting me so much! Seriously, this means a lot to me... Ummm... so I guess tell me some of your favorite things about the channel then!"
The man laughed again, the sound coming out in a slow, dumb chuckle, before saying
"What's my favorite thing? Do I even have to say, bro? Its the amazing piece of eye candy I'm looking at right now. You're super hot, bro~"
At this, Jason was shocked, but he chuckled awkwardly while blushing, and said
"Really? I don't think I've ever heard a single person say that before. I guess I consider myself slightly below average..."
The guy looked confused at that, before pressing on
"Really, bro? You look super hot to me, you got those bright, blinding blue eyes that you can just get lost in~"
At this point, Jason knew the man was just messing with him. His eyes have always, and will always be a dark, muddy brown, hidden behind his massive frames. Jason was about to respond, when Ethan continued
"Yeah, and you got that super stylish haircut too, really makes you look super masculine~"
Now Jason was REALLY confused. The guy was right, he did always get complements on his eyes, the bright, shocking blue visible and striking even through his huge glasses. But his hair was always a long, unkempt greasy mess.
"Ethan, are you sure you're okay, you're not just seeing things? Cause I don't know what you're talking about"
Ethan ignored the comment, just continuing to press on
"And you've got that hot, manly face, with your strong jaw and amazing profile"
Jason was confused again. Sure, his stylish haircut did help him look much better, but his face had always been pretty androgynous, with hints of baby fat still present in his cheeks. Again, before he could interrupt, Ethan continued,
"And you've got that smooth smooth skin, that hot stubble, that sexy smirk of yours. You're the full package bro~"
Jason laughed at this. Ethan was clearly being way too complementary. Sure his face had a great shape to it, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw, but his skin was still acne marked as hell, his smile was crooked and awkward, and he'd never been able to grow any facial hair, no matter how much he tried.
"I really have no idea what you're talking about Ethan. Sure I've got some good features, but the overall package isn't much to write home about~"
Ethan smirked again, his eyes lighting up with humor, as if he knew something I didn't.
"Nah, bro, you're underselling yourself. Plus, you've got that body~"
"What about my body? I think its pretty average, though I guess I'm a bit on the skinny side..."
Jason looked down at himself, trying to contemplate what Ethan meant. Sure, he'd been blessed with an attractive, manly face, but it didn't change the fact that his body was still below average at best.
"Again, bro! Putting yourself down. You really think those massive logs you have for arms are below average?"
Jason looked down at his skinny arms, and said
"More like logs than twigs man, seriously."
"And what about your legs? You've spent so long working on em, you've got thighs and glutes to kill for~"
Jason laughed again
"I dunno man! Most people say the exact opposite. They say I spend too much time on arms and not enough on my torso and legs. What can I say though? I love having big, beefy arms."
"Of course you do, bro? Who wouldn't? Especially when right in between em, you got your big, pillowy chest, your sexy abs, and your super toned back~"
Jason was seriously starting to wonder if Ethan was on something. Anyone could clearly see from first glance that Jason's body was badly proportioned, his arms and legs being massive from months to years of work, while he neglected his back, pecs and ab muscles. Still, he thought he looked pretty alright honestly.
"And I especially love how you're not only super sexy, you know it and flaunt it~ I don't think I've ever seen you once wear a shirt. The most you'll wear is a necklace, and even then, not like that covers anything, bro~ Only makes you look sexier"
Now here Jason had to disagree. He knew that he had cultivated and developed an amazing body over his years of going to the gym, but that was all for his own personal satisfaction. He never flaunted it unnecessarily, especially not during a stream.
"And I love the fact that you're such a fucking bro, bro. Every other word out of your mouth is bro and dude, you can't go even five minutes without flexing and thinking of fucking, or going to the gym, or hanging out with your other hot bros. We all know that your brain is basically only good for working out and looking hot. No smart's up there. And you've got your deep, sexy voice, too. Makes it even hotter that you're a gay bro, just like me"
Jason HAD to laugh at that. What the guy was saying was just so ridiculous.
"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I know that I like to show off my sexy body a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of dumb jock. And I'm definitely straight, dude. Don't know why you'd think I'm gay"
Ethan pressed on, completely unabashed by Jason's last comments.
"But you know the best fucking part, bro? Its that power of yours. The fact that any weak ass nerd who looks at you and your huge fucking muscles grows into a hot, dumb bro like us within seconds~"
Jason was busy flexing, staring at his own bicep in awe, as if he was shocked by him impressive he was. He looked up at Ethan blearily, saying
"Sorry, bro, what'd you say? I guess I got a bit fucking distracted. Huhuhu. But who could blame me~"
"Nah, it was nothing bro. You don't need to worry about it. Now should head back to the stream?"
Jason gasped in excitement, having forgotten entirely about the fact that there was a whole stream audience full of lame ass nerds, just ready for him to make as sexy as he and Ethan were.
"You got it bro~ This is gonna be so fucking hot~"
Jason left the call, going back to the stream and restarting, glad to see that a full 300 people were still watching, even through the extended break. The second he turned his camera on, he could see that people were confused for some reason, saying a stranger broke into his house. How stupid could these people be? How did they not recognize him? Still, not like it would matter for long...
"Hey bros! How're we all fucking doing? Welcomes to today's stream..."
He trailed off, looking blankly at the camera, before saying
"You know what? Fuck video games! Who needs them when you can do this~"
And as his pecs bounced and bounced hypnotically, the chat slowly transitioned from messages like "What the fuck is happening?" or "Who is this dumb jock?" to "Fuck, bro! Your pecs look so fucking hot today!" and "Huhuhu, I love making my pecs bounce like Jace's~"
And so the stream continued, Jace showing everyone all the amazing things his body could do, while anyone that was watching, whether they wanted to or not, began to copy him exactly. And as the stream went on, the viewer count rose, and rose, and rose...
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Hey dear! I hope that you have a good time! I want to make a request, but please delete it if you don't feel like doing it.
I saved that request in the notes and been waiting for you to open them 😊
For request
First fight with brother (any of your choice) and one of them (I mean MC or that brother) thinks that it's end of relationship (because never had anything serious), but they reconciled in the end. I want some heavy angst with happy ending. MC can be GN if that is OK.
If you don't mind you can do for Mammon, but feel free to choose another one if you don't feel like write for him. Or if that would be better to write as headcanons for all the brothers. That's up to you!
I haven't been doing requests for ages. Please don't hate me if there is something wrong! I've read the rules, and I hope I haven't missed anything.
Anyway, sorry for long ask. And thank you for your writings!
(I forgot to look if you did anything similar, and remembered it at the end of writing that ask. Sorry if you already did something like that!)
Hey babes ❤ I did end up doing HCs for all of them because I thought it would be cooler (or more like I know someone is gonna request separate fics for all of them if I dont and I'm saving myself that trouble lol) I still hope you like it ! ❤ also this got SUPER LONG so its under a cut
Warning: angst -> happy ending-ish
THE BROTHERS in a fight with MC and thinking that they’re over (yikes)
Lucifer:
Everyone always says Lucifer is quick to lose his cool but he’s honestly been nothing but patient with you. He may have hinted at several things he doesn’t condone and he definitely has that ‘look’, you know the disappointed dad look, but he has held back a lot so as to not ruin the beautiful relationship you have with him. Everyone snaps, though, and when he finally did, it was ugly. He did NOT call you names, but oh he didn’t. He went straight for your feelings and pointed out every mistake you ever made for as long as he’s known you. Ouch. In his defense, you weren’t nice either. The argument ended nasty and ‘I hate you’s!’ were definitely thrown around, but none of them were meant, right? Goodness, he doesn’t know. After you left, he threw himself on his bed, literally, and just stared at the ceiling. His anger slowly fled away and he began to feel… guilty. Not necessarily because of the argument itself, but because he delivered some low blows and he knows that. Are you over? Done with him? You haven’t texted or called or talked… you’ve been actively avoiding him and he doesn’t like that, but his pride is such an issue, goodness. He can’t straight up apologize, that dickhead, but he’s sending you flowers and standing in front of your door with a sad face that says it all.
“Forgive me? I made reservations at your favorite’s? We can talk over a nice dinner?”
Mammon:
Mammon is known to get mildly agitated over the silliest things, let’s be real. He’s also quick to revert to the “are you dumb?!” argument, which is never effective. But he loves you and he would do anything for you so even if you do do something that he deems ‘dumb’, he usually bites his tongue. Doesn’t mean that doesn’t get on his nerves, though, and he definitely has a short temper, although people tend to overlook that. You just managed to push his buttons today and he used the “are ya stupid?!” argument, to which you obviously defended yourself, and rightfully so. This ended in a massive screaming match and him saying “Then leave! Ain’t nobody keepin’ ya with me!” He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth and you could see his eyes grow wide in shock at his own words, but that didn’t mean you stayed. “MC!” he tried running after you immediately but you were faster and honestly, who can blame you? He fucked up, and he knows it, and he feels terrible about it. Honestly, he’s crying just at the mere thought of you taking his words seriously and he can’t… he can’t bear to lose you, you know? What’s he gonna do? You’re the light of his life, as pathetic as that may sound to some…. So he won’t let you run away. Homie will hunt you down and beg for forgiveness.
“Please, MC! Forgive me! I’m dumb, not you!!! Don’t leave me…” Don’t leave him. He will continue crying.
Leviathan:
His constant need to put himself down is frankly, quite annoying. To you anyway. But you put up with it and just reassure him that, at least to you, he’s the most amazing demon that ever existed. It’s just facts. But a person only has so much patience, right? You can’t always spend your days trying to lift him up when all he does is dig himself a bigger hole. Who has the emotional time for that? You sure don’t. “Oh my God, Levi! Shut up! I can’t take it anymore!” Followed by “See! You’re just like everyone else! Leaving me!” and then you slamming the door to his room shut. It’s frustrating and understandably so. It makes you feel awful that you can’t even make your own boyfriend feel good about himself and get at least a little bit of self confidence and it’s so, so, so very draining to have to constantly listen to that. At this point, it’s affecting your own mental health and you just… you just can’t…. But Levi can’t lose you because he knows you’re right. He has to work on himself if he wants to keep someone as amazing as you with him and that’s why he’s crawling back to you now.
“Look I… I know you’re right… I’m sorry. I promise I’ll … I’ll try. For you.”
Satan:
For being the Avatar of Wrath, you always admired Satan for his ability to keep cool. He prefers the relaxed and easy going life much more than the type of life people expect him to live, and you respect that. That doesn’t mean his constant need to one up Lucifer, through whatever means necessary, didn’t bother the hell out of you, though. You tried talking to him about it once or twice in a calm manner, but you always got the same answer “Pfft.. it’s Lucifer. Who cares?” And it never sat right with you. Just today he decided to pull a prank on the eldest and you had enough, standing in front of Lucifer and letting the bucket of cursed green slime land on you instead, to everyone’s shock. “What are you doing?!” Now that you’re thoroughly green from head to toe, you were also beyond pissed. “What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!” But Satan matched your anger tenfold, accusing you of favoring Lucifer over him and oh! “You probably got an affair with him, too!” Which was a stupid thing on his part, but it looked like it the way you defended him. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion you felt running through you and had it not been for Lucifer, you probably would’ve physically fought Satan for such a dumb accusation. Lucifer took you to get cleaned up and lifted the course, giving you your natural skin and hair color back within a few days and plenty of scrubbing, and Satan felt like shit. You’ve always been there for him and, rationally speaking, he didn’t have a reason to doubt your loyalty to him, but he just can’t help but feel insecure beside Lucifer…. He decides to come apologize anyway, a deep blush on his face and guilt in his eyes
“I’m… sorry for accusing you. It wasn’t my right to speak out of anger and jealousy…”
Asmodeus:
How can anyone fight with the Avatar of Lust? Seriously, the guy is super easy going and he loves pretty much everyone. Not as much as himself, but almost. You on the other hand… you didn’t. Well you didn’t NOT love him or yourself, but you were just… you. You didn’t spend 4+ hours in the bathroom trying to get ready when you knew you were only going to the kitchen down the stairs. Like?? Although you never brought it up to Asmodeus, he constantly bothered you about skincare and what foods to eat and what not to eat, etc… It’s quite annoying, honestly, and at some point you just gave him a passive aggressive “Okay, whatever. Can we move on now?” To which he didn’t take lightly. He was still nice and sweet, trying to convince you that at least one of these things will make your skin glow brighter than a unicorn’s ass but you just had enough. “Can you stop?! You’re indirectly saying I’m ugly without that shit ton of product in my face and a diet that would make me starve before it helped me! If you want a skinny VS angel that barely holds onto their skeleton, get one!” It was more hurt and frustration speaking than anything, but your outburst still shocked him and he was taken aback for a moment. And then you ignored him for a week straight and as someone who thrives off of attention, especially the kind he gets from you, he can’t handle that! So he showed up in your room in sweats and a tshirt and messy hair and no product on his skin.
“You’re right… we’re all naturally beautiful…. Wow that… that really hurts to say MC but can you forgive me?”
Beelzebub:
Oh the sweet, sweet angel. He’s far from innocent and you know that. We all know that. But for this story, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. His reliance on Belphegor is just really… annoying. Belphegor this, Belphegor that. “Belphie used to…” or “Belphie said….” or “one day when Belphie and I….” Like why does everything have to include his twin? It’s so annoying and so rude when your significant other is right here !!! and planning their own future with you, Beel, thanks. It makes you feel less than and like Belphegor will always come before you. It makes you feel like shit, quite frankly, and who is to blame you? “Hey MC did I tell you what Belphie---!” “No! Shut up! I don’t care! It’s always about Belphie! The day you come to me and don’t let that name drip from your tongue is the day Jesus comes back to save me and we both know that will be never! I’m tired of always being stuck with Belphegor! We are not equals!” Granted, you shouldn’t have yelled and Beel was more than confused at your outburst, but you wouldn’t talk to him anymore after that so he left you alone. He thought you may need an hour or two, maybe a day tops, but that day turned into a full week and he even lost his appetite just because he knows you’re angry with him. It’s been a week, does that mean you’re over? His heart aches just at the thought…
“I’m sorry for bringing Belphie up… I don’t want you to feel less than, MC. You mean a lot to me and so does Belphie, but you’re not Belphie and I need to learn that…”
Belphegor:
Honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his temper at you yet. Well, he partially blames it on his own laziness because if being angry or getting upset didn’t take so much energy out of him, maybe he would’ve snapped by now lol, but he tries really hard not to because he thinks your relationship with him after everything is pretty good, considering yall kiss and snuggle and fuck on a regular basis. But anyway, that’s exactly the issue. Considering everything, you’re still holding *that* against him. It’s never direct either, which makes it worse. It’s always said in a joking manner and something like “haha look it’s just like that one time you killed me” or “Beel’s grabbing that ham like you grabbed my throat” or “I remember seeing jesus for a moment there” and it agitates him. It makes him so angry, and he finally snapped. “I know I fucked up MC! Stop holding it against me! What do you want? A medal of honor? A survivor's certificate? Maybe a pat on the back for developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome that made you come back to your abuser?!” And then he left. And you may have cried both from confusion and your own anger, he isn’t quite sure. It’s just so…. Aggravating. He can’t deal with it. He knows it was a mistake spurted by his own insecurities and survivor’s guilt which ultimately led to his hatred but please, stop holding it against him.. He can’t keep putting up with it from the person he’s grown to love. He’s the one ignoring you and he won’t budge either because he’s a stubborn ass, but maybe if you come up first…
“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I’m just so tired for it being held against me… I love you, and you should know that, and I do feel guilty about what happened.”
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me scenarios#cheys headcanons#asmodeus obey me#belphegor obey me#mammon obey me#obey me lucifer#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me beelzebub#tw angst
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