#and i asked them if i would still owe that fee if i had the appointments in person

[grapehyasynth]

has anyone in the US had to pay a "facility fee" for telehealth and did you find a way to get them to remove it from the bill

[moody-alcoholic]

Chapter 1 - The Job.

I just don't know when to stop, if I don't have like 20 projects going at once I get bored. I waited until I had a name though, no longer will I be titling everything 'untitled XYZ fic. It was actually my fiancée who came up with the name.

Work summary: 141 retired and decided to open a delivery company. Only it's not a delivery company, it's a cover for less legal practices. Need a creepy stalker out your life? Someone owes you money? You need to disappear to a new life? Special Delivery Service has got you covered, for a reasonable fee.

Chapter Summary: 5.5k words, Simon x reader, female reader, name used: Dani (this is just personal preference, I don't like using Y/N.) You accept a job offer to work as an office admin for a commercial delivery company. Only the job is not quite as it seems and you come to learn neither are the people you work for.

CW: mentions of abusive ex, alcohol, language, flashbacks of domestic abuse.

masterlist - next

AO3 link

Enjoy <3

You see the job listing towards the bottom of the page: 

Office admin wanted! To start immediately. MUST have a background in logistics.  Send CV to: Price@SDS.co.uk Competitive salary. 

It was short, sweet, to the point and the most promising job posting you had seen all day. You had a background in logistics, you’d just spent the last 3 years working as a supply chain manager. Mainly it was just organising warehouse deliveries but it was experience none the less. You copy the e-mail and send the CV, with a job posting like this you didn’t expect to hear a response back for a few days.

It was already 8pm you’d been applying for jobs all day. You decided to give up for tonight, the sofa and the TV were calling you. You head into the kitchen rummaging through the fridge to see what sad meal you would cook up tonight. You pull out a box of Chinese leftovers, they still smell good. You tip them on a plate throwing it in the microwave as you pour yourself a glass of wine. Turning the TV on channel surfing when your phone starts ringing, you go to pick it up. It’s not a number you know but you swallow your nerves accepting it in case it’s about a job. 

“Hello?” You say.

“Hello is this Dani” A male voice comes through the other end.

“Yeah,” You reply feeling nervous all of a sudden, you sip the wine. 

“You applied for the office admin job?” The voice says back. You have to think for a second, he can’t mean the job you literally applied for less then 10 minutes ago. You look back over at the laptop screen the e-mail still open.

“Hello?” the voice says.

“Yes, sorry yeah, wow I didn’t expect to hear back so quickly.”

“Yeah, we need someone to start immediately, can you come down for an interview tomorrow?” 

“Sure what time?” You ask, you need this job, you need to get back on your feet. 

“I’ll message you the time, and the address.” He says, you hear noise in the background sounds like a door slamming.

“Thank you,” you say as you hear the microwave beep. 

“No problem, see you tomorrow.” He says and hangs up the phone. You take your food out the microwave and flop down on the sofa tuning into whatever soap was playing on the TV. You’re halfway through your food when you get a text with the address and a time. 10am. You copy the address and put it into google, now is a better time then ever to find out about this company. Special Delivery Service, SDS, you don’t know why that makes you chuckle, it makes you think of DFS, the sofa company. The address is close by only a few streets actually, you could walk there in about 20 minutes, that’s convenient at least. From the looks of the website it’s a commercial delivery company. ‘Discretion is our specialty’ it says as you continue reading, there is not much info just how to contact them for a quote. The pictures are mainly stock images bar the logo.

You’d never heard of them before but it’s not exactly like you’re in the market for commercial deliveries, it has good ratings though, that means something. You throw the phone to the side turning back to the TV. This was good, this is a good start it’s what you need to move on, maybe even a fresh start. It feels like the right time, newly out of toxic relationship, made redundant, all in less then a month.

Maybe you could use a nice change of pace, or maybe you would go to the interview tomorrow and it will be a complete waste of time. Either way it’s a step in the right direction and at least your mum will be happy you’ve found a job, you’re pretty sure she was dreading the thought of having to financially support you until you were back on your feet. Now you were definitely hoping the interview would will go well, the thought of having to rely on your mother to support you was the worst. You would rather ask your ex, Lord knows he owes you one. You finish the food and lounge around watching TV until you start to dose off. You peal yourself off the couch heading into bed, a good nights rest will do you good, besides you want to make a good impression tomorrow. 

—————————— 

You get to the building early, it’s sunny weather for once and you can see the large doors to the building flung open. You peak in and see delivery vans, the whole place looks like it was an ex-mechanic shop. A figure catches the corner of your eye, he’s talking to another man walking across the floor, you can’t hear what they’re saying but the shorter man seems enthusiastic about something. Before you can get a better look they disappear out of your line of sight. You look over to what you assume is the customer entrance, and walk in. There is a man sat behind the counter, he seems distracted by something angrily typing on a computer. He sighs as you reach the desk, his eyes flicking up to you, he scoots back in the chair.

“How can I help?” He asks, his demeanour changing, he’s got a nice smile. 

“I’m here for an interview,” You say suddenly feeling nervous. He nods getting up.

“Yeah of course, come through.” He says opening a hidden door in the counter and you walk though. He leads you through to the main room it still smells of fuel, this place definitely used to be a mechanic shop, you can see the covered up pits on the floor where they would access under the cars.

Your attention is drawn to the sound of laughing and you see the two men from earlier stood round a coffee machine. The taller man has his back turned to you while the shorter man is chuckling, hitting the taller man on the back. His eyes move to you, he’s fit, well built, tanned skin, he runs his hand through his slick mohawk, you could have swore he just winked at you. You turn your attention back to the man leading you as you reach a metal staircase.

The second floor-if you can even call it that-is furnished with sofa’s and a kitchenette, you can see a dart board and what looks like a pool table. Looks like a cool place to hangout. You feel bad for not asking the man his name as he leads you an office door. He knocks and you both wait. 

“Come in!” a voice calls, you think you recognise it, its the same person you spoke to on the phone yesterday. The door opens and you walk in. You look at the man sat behind the desk, he looks older then the other people you’ve seen, his beard makes him look older then you suspect for some reason, you can see the bags under his eyes like he could do with long nap.

“Thanks Kyle,” He says as you walk in. Okay, his name was Kyle you’d have to remember that. He nods leaving the room closing the door behind you. The man behind the desk gets up as you walk over to him. He comes round putting his hand out for you to shake it.

“John Price,” he says as he nods at you smiling. You nod back.

“Sit please, coffee? Tea?” He gestures to the chair and walks back round the desk. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” You look up at him smiling as you sit down. His office walls are massive windows looking down on the room below you can see people moving around now opening the back of the vans. You look back up at him as he takes a paper in his hand. 

“3 years as a supply chain manager, studied business in college, pretty impressive.” He says putting the paper back down. 

“Thank you,” you say, not that it’s really that impressive the only reason you did a business course was to make your parents happy. You had no idea what you wanted to do when you finished secondary school. 

“So do you have any experience in warehouse management?” He asks leaning forward on the desk. 

“Well at my last job towards the end, there was a lot of inventory organisation and I was pretty much left in charge of clearing the whole place out before the business went under.” You say, you’re not sure if that’s what he’s expecting, to be honest with the little research you managed to do and the vague job posting you were not sure what to expect. 

“The jobs pretty simple. There are three main aspects, the first is the most important; the clients send us a list of good they need transporting, it’ll be your job to assign it to a driver then create the invoices, paperwork, the system is already pretty automatic. A lot of it is just data entry if I’m being honest.” You smile at him as he continues, so far it seems like a pretty easy job. 

“The second part is when a client sends a special request, the system is not set up to handle them yet so they can come through as errors, with just an e-mail address attached. If you can assign them to someone great if not forward them on to me. The system will let you know if a driver has available delivery slots.” You nod as he finishes, you could handle this, data entry, assigning jobs to people, easy. 

“Sounds good so far.” You reply. He nods. 

“The last part is just your general office admin work, you’ll man the front desk, answer the phone, the boys will tell you if they need supplies ordering that kind of stuff. The hours are standard 9 to 5, 5 days a week, we’re closed Saturday Sunday.” He says spinning round in his chair and taking some paper from the printer. 

“I live close by actually it’s really convenient.” You say. 

“That’s nice, if you want the job I have a contract ready, you can start tomorrow then you’ll have the weekend off.” He says spinning back round straightening the paper out. That’s sudden, the job did say start immediately though, and you really need this job. 

“Of course, that’s great.” You say smiling, hoping he can’t see your hesitation. He pushes the stack of papers towards you, you flick through the first few pages of standard workers rights. 

“You’ll get 2 weeks paid vacation a year, sick leave and maternity leave should you need it kick in after a month of probation.” He explains, pretty standard. You flick through it to the end page with the salary break down. Holy shit! 

“The job requires a certain level of…Discretion.” He explains. “You’re compensated for the inconvenience.” 

“What like I can’t tell people were I work?” You ask confused. He looks at you like he’s trying to think of what to say. 

“We have clients who expect their information to be handled, appropriately. On top of that some of your colleagues like to keep their work and home life separate.” He says eventually, you frown. That’s strange and he didn’t answer your question. You nod like you understand though, regardless you’ll take the 'hush money.' Especially since you’ll be making more then you’ve never made for what is basically a data entry job, and maybe having to answer the phone a few times. It almost seems to good to be true. You skim over the rest of the legal jargon and company rules. 

“Any questions?” He asks as you pick up a pen, you shake your head and sign both pieces of the paper, then hand it to him. He smiles signing it too and ripping off one of the pages handing it back to you. 

“One last thing.” He says hesitating for a second. “Do you have a criminal record?” 

“No,” you shake your head. He stands nodding and you get up too, as he walks round the desk, heading for the door to his office and you follow him. 

“I’ll get one of the boys to show you round before you leave.” He says opening the door.

“MacTavish!” He calls as you follow him out the room. You watch as a man appears at the bottom of the steps, it’s the guy from earlier who was laughing. He’s defiantly good looking there’s no denying it. 

“Come show our new recruit around.” He nods coming up the stairs. 

“If you have any questions let me know and I’ll e-mail you a full copy of your contract.” John says as he puts his hand out and you shake it. 

“I will thank you,” you smile and he heads back into his office. 

“John MacTavish!” The man says extending his hand out to you, he’s got an accent for a second you look at him confused.

“Another John?” You ask as you shake his hand. 

“Aye, most people call me Johnny though.” He winks. Now you’re sure he winked at you earlier. He walks round you over to the sofa’s and the pool table. 

“This is where we chill out between deliveries, or just in general. Do you play?” He asks pointing at the pool table. 

“Once or twice, at the pub.” You say. You’re still trying to pin his accent, Welsh or Scottish? You’re too embarrassed to ask. He comes back over to you and you see he’s walking with a limp, it’s especially obvious as you follow him down the steps and he has to grip the banister for support. 

“This is were we load the vans up with anything we need, toilets over there and next to them is the store room.” He says pointing to the rooms directly under the upstairs office. There are metal shelves filled with all different kinds of things from basic office supplies to what looks like medical equipment and machinery. The store room door is the only door you’ve seen with a key-code lock on it, makes sense. There is a long table surrounded by chairs and a projector against a far wall. You look over to see another man sat at the table typing on a laptop. 

“This is Simon, Simon Riley.” Johnny says as he takes you over. He’s wearing a hoodie pulled over his head and a black surgical mask. Maybe he’s a clean freak? Or maybe this was what John meant by ‘Your colleagues like to keep their work and home life separate.’ You extend your hand out too him as you approach. 

“Nice to meet you.” You say, he looks up at you for a second. His eyes are beautiful, a dark caramel, thick eyebrows and you can see strands of blonde hair peaking out from under his hood. He shakes your hand, his grip is firm, you swallow hard. He’s giving off a different vibe then the rest of the people you’ve met so far, you almost want to run away from him. 

“Don’t worry about him he’s always grumpy in the morning.” Johnny says leaning into your ear. Simon rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to typing on the laptop. John, Johnny, Simon and Kyle, you repeat the names in your head so they’re burned into your memory. Johnny continues his tour showing you round the main floor, you were right as he explained the building used to be a mechanics until they took it over. Before that it was an abandoned munitions processing plant from the second world war. The building did look old, stylish red brick, huge arched windows that let in a lot of natural light. The doors were even old on rollers, thick and wooden. The more you looked around the more it reminded you of the old workhouses you’d seen in history books. Johnny leads you through to the lobby, the only part of the building that seems to have been renovated in the last 10 years. 

“This is Kyle Garrick, we call him Gaz.” Johnny says as Kyle stands up and you shake his hand. He’s fit too, dark skinned, short hair and he’s got a lovely smile, London accent you can tell he’s local too. 

“This will be where you work.” Johnny says pulling the chair out. 

“I’m sure Price will give you the rundown tomorrow on how the system works, we’re still working on getting it up and running properly.” Johnny says enthusiastically. You nod looking round at the desk, there is a large printer/photocopier in the corner and a plant that looks like it’s seen better days. At least the computer is up to date and honestly you can work with this. 

“So nervous for your first day?” Johnny asks as Kyle sits back down. 

“Not really.” You say smiling. 

“Good lass, that’s what we like to hear!” Johnny says patting you on the shoulder. Scottish, definitely Scottish. Kyle chuckles as he goes back to typing on the computer. You feel like now is the best time to take your leave. You thank Johnny and tell them both you’ll see them tomorrow. 

“Wait a second lass, here.” Johnny reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a business card.

“Any questions drop me a message.” He smiles. You nod pocketing the card and heading out. You look back at the building as you leave seeing Johnny wave, you wave back awkwardly. Why would anyone care about keeping there home and work life separate when you work for a simple delivery company? You think back to Simon with the mask, maybe he’s just hygienic? Regardless it was a good job, close to home and good pay. You wouldn’t have to rely on your mum or your ex to get you through the month. At least that was a weight off your shoulders.  

—————————— 

Later that evening your mother calls.

“Hey mum.” You say as you reluctantly pick up the call, not really feeling in the mood for her energetic energy, especially after Johnny’s enthusiastic tour.   

“Hey sweetie! I was just thinking about you today and I thought I would call to tell you, Anne from church has a job opening at her son’s restaurant. You know Chris? He works at that nice Italian place, well I said you were looking for a job and Anne said she would put in a good word.” You sigh as you let your mother talk. 

“It’s okay mum I got a job today actually. I went for an interview and they offered me the job on the spot.” You say.

“Oh sweetie that’s amazing where is it?” She asks, you pause, maybe telling your over sharing mother about a job you were warned required discretion was not the best idea. 

“It’s just a small firm in the city centre, they were looking for a logistical analyst.” You say lying through your teeth. 

“Oh well that sounds fancy, I hope it pays well if you’ll have to be trudging into the centre of London everyday.” You hear her chuckle.

“It does mum don’t worry, I start tomorrow actually.” 

“That’s fantastic, I’m sure you’ll do great.” 

“Thanks mum.” You say smiling. There’s a pause on the line.

“Have you spoken to Joe?” She asks, you sigh. 

“No mother I have not spoken to him since we broke up.” You reply bitterly wanting to end the conversation now.  

“He’s been asking about you, you blocked him or ignored him or something but sweetie I think you should talk to him he misses you.” You sigh, of course he’s turned on your mum, your sweet mother who couldn’t hurt a fly and always sees the best in people. Even toxic abusers. 

“I’ll think about it mum, look I have to go I have an early start tomorrow.” You say.

“Okay well get a good rest and good luck for tomorrow I love you.” She says.

“I love you too,” you reply and hang up.

That night you dream of your ex. You’re still with him trapped in the cycle of wake, make him happy, work, make him happy, sleep, repeat. The verbal abuse, the physical abuse, the days he would lock you in the bathroom for hours on end.

You took the lock off the door when he moved out. You’re not sure why it just felt like the right thing to do. You bought a deadbolt for the front door and no longer sleep with the windows open, fearing he could scale the apartment building to get to you. That’s what he does in your dreams, he gets around all the precautions you put in place. You dream of him being in your space, questioning everything you do, insisting on checking your phone and e-mails, even your work ones. Anytime a male’s name came up he would grill you about it for hours, no matter what you said it always felt like he never believed you. But then he would make you feel good, take you to the bedroom and treat you like a princess and it was like he was a different person. 

‘He’s just protective sweetie’ your mother says. ‘He loves you.’ The bruises on your arm would say otherwise, wearing turtle necks in summer became your fashion statement for at least a year. ‘He probably doesn’t mean it have you tried talking to him?’ Your brother was no better, to busy with uni to care, too much of a mans man to understand. He’s gone now though and that’s what you have to remember, it’s easier said then done. 

 —————————— 

The next morning you show up early. Your body feels heavy after the restless night. You walk in seeing John bent over Kyle’s shoulder as their looking at something on the computer behind the counter. 

“Hey, maybe you can figure this out, we’ve been trying to get these documents to copy over and it’s just not working.” Price says as he steps back you walk round watching Kyle trying to drag and drop a file into a folder. An administrative error pops up. 

“Mind if I?” You gesture for Kyle to move he holds his hands up rolling away on the chair as you try again. You’re not the most competent with computers but you could probably figure it out. You try compressing the file first then moving it and it works. 

“What did you do?” Kyle asks.

“I think the file was too big so I compressed it, do you need it sent in an e-mail?” You ask looking at John.

“Yes please if you don’t mind.” You nod. 

“Coffee?” Kyle asks as he gets up out the seat heading into the main building. 

“Yes please.” You say turning to smile at him and pulling the chair over so you can sit down. Price explains how everything works as you get situated. He shows you the documents on the computer for how to answer the phone, and deal with walk in requests. The ‘system’ they have set up for assigning deliveries is basically just a glorified spreadsheet which is good, you can work with that it’s not too far out of your comfort zone. 

“If you have any questions just call, there is a direct line to my office if you press 1 on the phone.” You nod trying to take it all in as Kyle comes back with a cup of coffee. 

“I didn’t know how you took it so I just did milk.” He says. 

“That’s fine thank you.” You reply, as he places it next to you. Then heads back. John tells you again to ask if you need anything then also leaves you too it. You’re looking through the computer making sure you defiantly understand everything when Simon and Johnny walk in. 

“Morning,” you say to them smiling.

“Morning lass, guess we didn’t scare you away yesterday!” Johnny beams, he seems to have too much energy especially compered to Simon who is still sporting his hoodie and mask combo. His eyes lock onto you as he walks through the lobby, his glare sending shivers down your spine. In a strange way, you’re not scared of him, more intrigued. He walks through the counter to the main floor without saying anything. 

“Sorry, he’s a rude bastard when he hasn’t had a coffee yet.” Johnny says.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head. You look through the window into the main floor watching Gaz open the large garage doors out to the street. 

“Hey, if we’re both around at 12 want to get lunch together? I know this great sandwich place down the road my treat!” Johnny says. You nod, he really has a way of putting you at ease with his palpable bubbly energy. 

“Right, I’ll see ya then lass,” he says and he heads through. 

The morning goes quick or maybe it’s because everything feels so new and foreign that it takes you a lot of concentration to make sure you’re doing it right. Before you even try to do anything you’re already calling John in his office about the names, instead of it being Johnny, Simon and Kyle, it’s Gaz, Soap and Ghost. Gaz you remember but the other two it’s a 50/50. John laughs and tells you Soap is Johnny and Ghost is Simon.

Each time you give them a job they stick their heads round the door to pick up the invoice, you try to make it a habit of printing it out as soon as you assign the job, so it’s ready when they come in. You purposely give Simon a job over lunch so Johnny is free, it’s a little cheeky for your first day but you wouldn’t mind spending more time with Johnny. 

When lunch comes around Johnny shows you how to set the phone to go to Price’s office and you both leave. The shop is right round the corner but by this time of the day it’s packed with people on their lunch break, you order your sandwiches to go and head back to work to eat them there. You’re both sat upstairs in on the sofa’s, it is nice up here and you can see down to the floor below you gives you something to watch while you eat. 

“How’s your first day been so far then?” Johnny asks.

“Fine, it’s just getting used to the system that might take a while.” You confess.

“Yeah, you’re doing great though, my jobs have been smooth and easy all day.” He says. You nod. 

“So how did you all meet?” You ask.

“Now that’s a story!” He says sitting up in his chair. 

“We were all military together, SAS.” He says. That explains the company name Special Delivery Service, you chuckle it’s cute, funny now you get it.

“Why’d you quit?” You ask. 

“Our time was up we chose not to re-enlist, it was Simon’s idea to start a delivery company, something easy we could do in retirement.” He says smiling at your interest. 

“Did you ever kill anyone?” You ask, but then immediately regret it, you don’t know if that’s an appropriate question to ask. Johnny just laughs.

“Someone's got to deal with the bad guys.” He says winking. 

“Don’t mean they didn’t fight back. Got a nice fucked up knee to show for it.” Johnny says slapping his left leg. That explains the limp he always has when hes walking. 

“Has John always been your boss?” You ask moving it away from killing people and being shot.

“Price, yeah he was our captain, it just felt right letting him continue to tell us what to do.” Johnny explains, chuckling. You nod listening to him talk about their life in the military, he’s careful not to go too into specifics, but enough for you to understand it seemed like it was quite a dangerous job. Johnny mentioned something about bombs at one point, that’s scary. 

“I bet you travelled a lot though?” You ask finishing your sandwich. 

“Oh yeah! That was one of the perks I guess, been all over the place, met some great people.” Johnny says naming a bunch of countries off. You watch as Simon comes back reversing the van into the bay. He jumps out and heads straight into the store room. That reminded you you needed to ask for the code. Johnny gets up checking his watch and throwing his trash in the bin. 

“Got a delivery to make, I’ll see you later.” He says heading to the stairs. You nod smiling. When you’re done you knock on John’s door before you head downstairs. 

“Come in!” He calls. You go in, for some reason you get this feeling like you’re back at school walking into a teachers office about to ask them for the key to the storage room to get more paper. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks smiling, it almost immediately puts you at ease. 

“Good, I was just wondering, the store room, Johnny showed me yesterday but he didn’t give me the code.” You explain. Price nods his head. 

“You don’t need the code, it’s for the drivers only, it’s where we keep, sensitive equipment.” He explains. You nod feeling heat rush to your cheeks, maybe you should have asked Johnny instead saved yourself the embarrassment of this conversation. 

“Got it, thank you.” You nod leaving the room and closing the door behind you. What kind of sensitive equipment? You hadn’t seen anyone moving anything in or out of there, and you’re pretty sure you saw Simon go in empty handed just now. You’re just more curious then ever. You look down the steps at Simon making his way up with a mug of tea in his hand. You wait until he has reached the top of the stairs before heading down. You smile at him, you can’t tell if he’s smiling back with the mask but you’re assuming he’s not. You make your way back down as he walks into John’s office without knocking. 

The rest of the day seems to go by slower, your mind obsessing over the store room for some reason. It’s like an itch you need to scratch, you find yourself looking over to check it now and again. You get a few of those ‘special request’s’ John warned you about, you try to assign them but it doesn’t work. Clearly the system does not like it so you send them off to John. It’s almost like they’re encrypted, maybe you could figure out how to fix it and stop the system from freezing up every time it happens, a task for next week you think.

Jobs stop coming through around 3 and you spend the last few hours of your shift catching up on the other part of your admin job, then you find yourself cleaning the coffee machine. Johnny and Gaz leave early, apparently this is normal for Friday, you wish them a good weekend as they leave going out the vehicle entrance closing the garage doors behind them. You head to use the bathroom next, as you’re washing your hands you hear the door of the store room beep open and the sound of feet running in and out. You hear it open but you don’t hear it close.

You hold your breath, could it be? It’s open. You’re excited for some reason. You quickly slip out cracking the door. Sure enough the door didn’t fully close it’s stuck on the latch. Your curiosity gets the better of you, you can’t help it. You look round quickly, you don’t see anyone, you don’t hear anyone. You push the door open, it’s dark you can’t see inside. You take a step in and an automatic light flicks on. You gasp as you look around the room. It’s way bigger then you expected, so big there is enough room for a table in the middle. Each part of the wall is covered in weapons, knifes, somethings you don’t even know what they would be but they look scary.

The hairs are standing up on the back of your neck, it’s almost like your fight or flight has kicked in as your eyes widen. There are crates everywhere some open with what look like boxes of ammo. You let out a breath feeling fear rise in you, maybe it was airsoft? You move to look in one of the crates near the entrance. Nope those are real bullets. You shouldn’t have seen this you feel panic rising. This is bad and very illegal. You start to back out the room, slowly you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Your body hits something, not something someone. You hear a sigh. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” It’s Simon. You slowly turn his head is tilted to the side his brow creased as his gaze burns into you. Fuck.

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[the-californicationist]

he trims his beard

Pirate!Price/Reader

God, I want to write thirty damn chapters about Pirate!Price so badly. Someone tell me not to, please? Lol. Otherwise, y'all might be getting thirty chapters of Pirate!Price...

MDNI/18+ TW: virginity reference

Summary:

Captain John Price is king of the Seven Seas, and after he saves your life, you owe him a debt. His fee? To take you as his wife.

The Mediterranean Sea, 1708

“I just can’t…ARGH!” Price slammed his hand down on the porcelain basin as he tried to shave his chin, unable to use his right hand after the accident. 

You pitied him, but you were still terribly afraid of him. When he rescued you, you thought he had been Death riding in on his ghostly white ship. But, now that he had been with you going on a fortnight, you realized the hardened, gruff exterior was but a hard shell encasing the soft, warm center of Captain Price, leader of the Queen’s special unit of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. 

You’d been marooned on Cassadaga Island for two days, stripped of your jewelry and purse, beaten within an inch of your life, and left for dead. Your would-be husband had planned the whole attack, hoping to cash in on the dowry money. The joke was on him. Your father had a gambling problem and had not two coins to rub together. The musket he kept above the mantle didn’t even have any gunpowder in it, you were so destitute. As soon as your fiancé found out about your lack of adequate funding, he tossed you overboard on his father’s ship. When Captain Price found you there, you were barely hanging on. 

The captain had nursed you back to health, promising to chase down the vagabond and kill him for his dishonor. He’d been true to his word, slaughtering the lot of them, but during his vengeful assault, he’d been shot through the hand with a musket. You’d cleaned the wound, and he had yelled at you for the pain. Now, you were cowering in the corner of your shared room, back to being a prisoner. 

He eyed you from his shining mirror above the basin, 

“C’mere, girl.”

You edged closer. It wasn’t quick enough for him, so he crossed the room, his black leather boots banging on the ash wood of his quarters.

“I said come here,” he growled, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the wash bowl, razor in his uninjured hand. 

He let go of you, straightened himself, and sighed, fixing his harshness into a more genteel tone,

“My apologies,” the words came out of his mouth oily and practiced, not at all his natural verbiage, “Would you be so kind as to trim my beard? With my injury, and my left hand being more useless than a fuckin’ hook, I am at your mercy.”

He handed you the razor and you took it from him, 

“Yes, sir - I mean, Captain. Yes, Captain.”

You were stuttering, full of abject fear at his possible retaliation. 

As you approached his face with the razor, your hand was trembling and he noticed it. Something in him softened, his icy blue eyes melted just enough for him to hold you around your waist and gaze down at your face,

“It’s okay, pretty girl. My bark and my bite are both nasty, but I won’t harm you.”

His warm body was so close to yours, and with him leaning over you, breathing into your space, you could smell the tobacco scent that lingered in his clothes and beard. His long, braided hair was adorned with gold coins, bent and twisted into it to make little beads, and he had been caramelized by the sun. At the top of his sternum, you could see thick tufts of curly hair poking from his shirt. You tried not to stare. 

“Captain,” you asked as sweetly as you could, “Can you sit, sir, so that I may reach your cheek?”

He smiled, 

“Alright, love.”

He sat on his down mattress. The bed creaked at the addition of his familiar weight. 

At this more convenient angle, you were able to reach his face and neck, so you began your task. You applied the foam in thin layers, working gently as you went, mindful that the captain kept his blades sharp enough to cut steel twine. What you hadn’t realized was that, by requesting that he sit, he was in full, direct eye sight of your heavy breasts. They were corseted up, as was the fashion, but without your normal over-dress to cover you, your nipples ghosted through the thin chemise, hinting at little pebbles beneath the surface. He had not stopped staring at them since you began to shave him. 

You looked down while you were cleaning the blade, trying to discreetly glimpse at his growing passion, curious and fearful all at the same time. His breeches could barely contain him, and his thick phallus pressed into the join of his pants. He caught you staring, and he laughed at your rosy complexion, rolling his eyes,

“Ha! Embarrassed at your thirst, pretty girl? Surely those vagabonds did not leave you a virgin during your ordeal.” 

“They did, sir,” you admitted, returning to your work, sad at having been discovered sinning with your abject perversion. 

He made a small noise, unable to talk while you were shaving his prominent chin, careful around the curve of the bone. He liked to keep the sides long, trimming them with shears, but he always shaved his chin. You followed the razor’s line down his neck, careful not to knick his protruding Adam’s Apple. 

“Is that so?” The captain purred. 

“Yes, sir. At my fiance’s order.”

“Ah, I see.”

He was silent again, his eyes growing hungrier at the sight of you. His hands returned to your hips as the waves tossed the large vessel on the high seas. You stilled, feeling your belly flutter, wondering if it was seasickness or excitement from his newly focused touch.

“You alright, love? Bit choppy tonight. Storm’s brewin’.”

“Oh,” you nodded, finishing with his neck, “There. All finished, Captain.”

He moaned, holding your hips tighter, situating you between his open knees,

“Shame, that. I was enjoying your skillful hand, pretty girl.”

You blushed, setting the razor cleaned back in its case,

“Thank you, Captain Price. And thank you again for your rescue. I would be dead if not for your mercy. I am in your debt.”

“Aye,” the Captain eyed you slyly, “a steep debt at that. Your dowry should solve that for us. Then, you’ll be on your way. When we land in Málaga, your father can pay me.”

“Sir,” you gasped, “I don’t have one. My father took it to the game house and lost it on his cards.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked down at him in shame, hoping his mercy was deeper than his greed. 

“Hmm, I see. Then, perhaps you would consider a captain as your betrothed?”

You looked up at him in shock, and he was amused by your fear. He used one hand to hold you by the hip, and his other, uninjured hand delicately pulled at the silk ribbon of your bodice, aiming to free you from your painful restraints. 

“Y-y-yes…sir,” you could feel the heat on your cheeks, “My family would be most pleased with such a match.”

“Bugger your family, girl. They left you for dead. If you’re mine, you’ll be only mine. Once I have a bounty in my grasp, there’s not a man on God’s green earth who could take it from me. Does that scare you, girl? Do you want to run off home, turn to the cloth, become a nun instead?”

“No,” you shook your head, “No, sir. I owe you my life, and if it is my hand that you wish, I must oblige you.”

“I wish not your hand, love…” His tone was darkly suggestive, “Well, maybe at first.” He laughed warmly. 

It was a joke that you had missed, but you knew it was your innocence that kept you from divining its meaning. In your core, your body yearned for him. Seeing him command his men, the fiercest swords on the Seven Seas, watching him take down pirates and vagabonds like it made his heart beat in his breast, it was mystifying. His huge muscles and broad bones made his tall figure all the more imposing, and every port you landed in, women swooned over him while the men cowered in fear. Yes, you’d enjoy him as a husband. No one would ever dare lay a hand on you again. 

“What are your terms, Captain, should I accept your proposal?”

He ran a finger into the hole he had created in your leather bodice, letting you feel his warm touch through the thin fabric of your chemise. It electrified you.

“You’ll be mine, and only mine. I’ll be yours, and only yours. When I fill you with my seed, you’ll carry my children, and you’ll love them in earnest. You’ll sail with me, and learn the trade. There’s no comfortable manor house awaiting you, girl. What say you?”

“I agree to your terms, sir. But, I have one of my own.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll not lay a hand to me or our children, no matter the height of your rage.”

“Never. You have my word.”

Looking into his eyes, softened and vulnerable now, he meant it. You felt relief for the first time in weeks. Safe, protected, cared for, and welcomed into his adventures. It was everything you’d dreamed of. All of your childhood friends had dreams of servants and painting rooms and buying linens, while you had wanted to see the world. Here he was, offering it to you. 

“I accept.”

“As do I, love. Now,” he finished removing your corset and bodice top, letting it fall to the floor, “as your husband, I’ll have what I’m owed.”

“Yes, Captain. But, please,” you felt a tear roll away from your wet lashes, “be gentle with me.”

“I promised no such thing,” he said, lowering his mouth to your nipple, sucking it and wetting the silk of your chemise, using his hand to pull down the fabric on your other breast, exposing it to the sea air. 

You gasped, feeling his hot mouth explore your skin, your nipples tightening in the heat of his attentions. He was using his tongue to flick back and forth across the tip of your breast, not caring that you were trembling at every swipe of his tongue or thumb. You moaned, involuntarily, as you felt the sparkle of pleasure rush into your belly, making you wet under your skirts. While you had explored yourself plenty of times to discover the hidden secrets of your body, to have a man - especially such an aggressor like Captain Price - do it, it was so much more exciting. His forbidden fruit made you clench your legs together, upset and tingling within your core. 

“Mmm,” he praised you, “Like that, love?”

“Yes, Captain,” you whispered softly, placing your hands on the back of his neck, rubbing the firm musculature you discovered there. 

“Good girl,” he told you, pinching your nipple cruelly to make you moan again. 

He kissed you then, full and with his long, ravenous tongue, forcing it into your mouth to feel your tongue and throat, the silky skin of your cheek. As he kissed you, he was busy rucking up your skirts, searching for your dripping heat. He found it, and he stilled. Barely moving, he stopped kissing you and looked up into your eyes with his stark blue ones, a look of pure delight on his face. 

“Oh, my stars. There it is. You’ve been hiding it from me. So willing? Tell me the truth. Have you been hungering for me as I have been for you?”

It would not be proper to confess such a thing, even to a man who would be your husband. You shook your head in denial, pressing your lips together to keep from telling the truth. 

“Say it! Tell your naughty thoughts to me, love. This is not the cunt of a frightened girl.”

You blushed, red as a rose, unable to meet his gaze. 

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he moved his finger inside of you then, gently sinking into his drooling sheath, ready to send home his sword to it.

“Y-yes,” your voice was barely audible.

“Yes? What have you been thinking of?” He returned to your nipple, pressing his finger deeper into you, massaging your walls as he explored.

“You…when you fight pirates, sir. You look…”

He chuckled, biting your firm nipple softly, teasing you,

“You like seeing me murdering those devils, do you? In all my days, I never thought I’d find a lass who had a taste for war.”

“Not the war, sir. Just the warrior. You seem to be in command of the chaos, and my body…well, I guess…I am unsure how to describe it.”

He pulled you down to the bed and tossed you on your back, rutting against you with his length, letting his hardness press into your core through his breeches. 

“You like seeing me in charge, hm? Your captain, barking his orders, tossing those traitorous rats into the drink, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you confessed, rolling in the broiling pleasure he was building inside of you, his hand knuckle-deep inside of your core. 

“Good,” he said smugly, “Then, I have a command for you.”

You looked up at him, watching him roll your skirt up above your knees, his eyes never leaving your dripping folds. He smiled when he saw it gleam for him. 

“What do you ask of me, my love?”

“Open your legs, girl. Feed yourself to your Captain.”

[sparreaux]

Stop the Eviction!

As most of my followers know, my spouse and I (both disabled and living on a single income) have been fighting to stay in our rental home for months now. This started when our landlord decided to start using a local property management company who decided all back rent needed to be paid or we needed to leave. (Honestly, that part is fair as we owed quite a bit.)

This was, quite unfortunately, a few days after I had had a harrowing accident where I fell very hard and received a concussion, which has only added to our stress as it affected both my health physically and mentally as well as costing my short term memory. (I still cannot remember that night or the next week clearly) I have been struggling with managing my symptoms since.

We have striven to get the company their money at a detriment to our utilities and food bills, but we have been fortunate to receive so much help and support.

For the past several months, it's only gotten worse. The company had a court date we were never notified of (which had us judged as no shows so the company was free to break any repayment contract we had signed), added fees such as a pet deposit we paid when we moved into this house almost six years ago, legal fees for said court date, late fees that were never discussed before, extra fees from who knows where and basically have just been monthly harassing us with ten day eviction notices and even threatened us with the sheriff. Also they're claiming we didn't pay them on a certain month. Every time we thought we were on track, they'd pull something else. They've been rude and quite frankly, I would love to move to a different house if that was at all an option, but it's honestly not.

I had set up a gofundme, but since we've been paying everything we've got to back rent, our phones have been shut off for the time being and I am completely unable to log in to update or anything.

The management's company's ledger for us currently sits at $2,275.00. They are asking for at least $1000 before the end of the month, after we've already paid our monthly rent plus some. We have people that we can talk to on Monday, but unfortunately, nothing else until then.

I am also very, very behind on commissions. There are several that are almost finished, but my fibromyalgia has been badly flaring, making it extremely difficult to put out the results I want. That being said, if you do not mind waiting a few months, I will happily add you to my art commission list for whatever you'd like to donate to help us.

Tl;dR: Two disabled people with pets are trying not to be evicted. Will draw for donations.

Thank you so much for current and past support. I promise I am trying to get back to everyone who has helped, it is just taking time, more time than I expected. I am sorry and again, thank you.

0/$2275

C*shapp, P*ypal, V*nmo: duessa

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having a job despite having time for it?

🍏🥝🍏🥝 <- to keep track of this when it posts,

My family really loves talking about me(20) when they think I'm not listening. I've heard them on multiple occasions say that I need a job and that I should just start working part-time while I'm going to college. The issue with that is that while other people can do both pretty decently, I dont feel like I'm capable of doing both part time and college without one of them suffering a lot because of the other.

My family is pretty financially stable, and the fees I owe never go over 900 dollars and sometimes I even make my own money off of commissions to help pay for things. I actually did have an actual job during my classes for a while filing things and remote video editing work (for the same job) but one of my family members worked with me there as my boss and I decided to quit after they decided to ask if my mom would've rather died than had me after I told him she called trans people abominations (I am trans, I'm only out to that family member and my brother). I haven't found a consistent thing to do to earn money since but I've been trying really hard to advertise my commissions since then.

The part where I feel really guilty though is the fact that I've been going to a community college for almost 3 years now (with my family supporting me money wise) and know I'm only going to come out with a one year certificate because of how fucked my schedule got in my first year. I didn't meet some prerequisites , and despite the course I wanted being a 2 year degree it was worth almost 80 credits, which felt insane as I went into it. 5 classes a term, some 5 minutes after the other, all based on pouring hours and hours into artsy projects (video, audio, 3d modelling, painting, 2d animation, ect...). I broke down within my third term after I started failing some of my classes. I was still trying for my 2 year degree up until 2023 where I decided that getting a certificate that was similar and getting a job after would probably be better for me at this point rather than spending ANOTHER 2 years struggling OR straight up giving up and dropping out with nothing.

I'm also home a lot when I'm not in class (I'm only taking 2-3 classes a term now). I do little things sometimes like take out the trash and pull dishes from out the washer and so on but it's all only when no one is home because the place where things generally need to be cleaned up is all in our very small kitchen AND the fact that I'm scared of them poking fun at me for "finally doing something for once" because it makes me feel terrible when they do. I end up chilling out in my room completing work and desperately finding work arounds for projects to only ever really need done in my room or on campus- generally anywhere that's not going to worry my grandma too much.

I've told my family that their teasing doesn't make me feel good but it just gets responded with "that's just how we show love!" when I know it doesn't have to be that way! My boyfriend teases me pretty often but the difference is that he actually listens to me when I tell him something he said didn't feel very good to me and we talk it through, and then he doesn't make that joke again or i feel better after knowing the context of it!!! A lot of my family members will bicker until another one ends up crying and it's horrible to watch how petty and bitter everyone can be.

Don't really know what else to write, AITA guys? I know I could be doing a lot more around the house instead of working but I'm scared of being touched (my aunt randomly spanked me as hard as she could one time last year) and scared of more mean comments being thrown my way. I already have a plan to leave this home and have been open about it to them, but I don't want to rush it if I don't have to and want to spend a few years saving money up so that I'm not in a horrible situation if things go awry.

What are these acronyms?

[minastras]

tell me, do you feel the love? // soobin

It’s been six months since you were cheated on and, much to your chagrin, romance seems to be everywhere. Thankfully, your best friend Choi Soobin has seen you through everything without complaining once. Maybe love isn’t dead after all.

at a glance: gender neutral reader, best friends to lovers, university au, fluff, some angst, inspired by the song double take by dhruv!

words: 4.7k

warnings: swearing, discussions of cheating, mentions of a panic attack

——————————

You owed Choi Soobin your life.

That might’ve been a slight exaggeration, but it really did feel like it sometimes.

He was there for you the day you found out your then-boyfriend was cheating on you for almost the entirety of your year-long relationship. You wanted to do nothing but mope and/or shoot things, and he indulged you.

“I’m sorry,” he said in lieu of a greeting when you opened the door, a bag of your favourite snacks in his hands. He had rushed over immediately after you texted him the news. “I can’t believe Hyeontak would do that to you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Thanks for coming, Soup.”

You couldn’t remember when you’d started calling your best friend Soup. At first you shortened his name to Soobi, and then to Soobs, and somewhere along the line it became Soup. He laughed his ass off the first time he heard it, even though it wasn’t that funny.

The last thing you wanted right now was pity. You’d just returned from Hyeontak’s apartment where you’d caught him red handed (or red dicked, as it were). All you’d done since was text Soobin ‘hyeon cheated !’ and flopped onto the sofa, not even having the energy to cry.

“Let’s play Overwatch,” you suggested, beginning to set up your TV.

He stood in your doorway, confused. “You don’t want to talk about it?” he asked, probably preparing himself during the walk over to your place for you to eat and cry and rant until you were blue in the face. You were so… subdued.

“Not particularly. I want to shoot things,” you replied with a shrug, looking away. Your refusal to make eye contact with him was out of character, but you were trying to play it off. You were fine. “Can I get you something to drink?”

——————————

He was there for you a week later when you fought a printer. Well, it probably had more to do with it being Valentine’s Day than the printer itself. You were in the student room trying to print something for a project you were working on together that was due that weekend.

“Look, even the fucking printers have paper heart stickers on them,” you complained, rolling your eyes at the tacky decor covering every surface imaginable. There was red glitter on your hands. “And yet they still don’t work.”

Soobin looked up from the paper tray he’d been trying to fix for at least four minutes. “It is a little excessive,” he conceded, taking pity on you.

You removed the toner cartridge and put it back in, like that was going to do anything. “This is where all our student fees go. Fucking paper hearts.”

He laughed, taking the opportunity while you were distracted with the printer to stare at you. He could look at you as fondly and as often as he wanted, because in the three years of knowing him, you’d never once noticed how purely and utterly smitten he was with you.

“Maybe we should try the printer in the library again,” he suggested. This was the third printer you’d tried. You had spent the entire day hopping around your university to find one that worked — soaking in the sights of the happy, lovey-dovey couples all over campus — like you were on some kind of twisted, sadistic, printer pilgrimage. It made you sick.

“No! I’m going to make this one work, or so help me God.” You thumped the top of the printer. Percussive troubleshooting, you called it. Thankfully, the student room was empty apart from the two of you. Nothing happened. You hit it again, harder this time.

He suggested, “We could email the professor and ask her if she can print it for us.”

“I can do it,” you insisted. You hit the printer a third time. It restarted. Calming yourself down, you took a deep breath and lowered your voice, as if speaking too loudly would scare the printer into further non-compliance. 

“As Sun Tzu once said: face and know thine enemy. The HP DeskJet 2722e All-in-One Printer,” you said stubbornly, chant-like, your tone artificially even.

He laughed again. “I don’t think The Art of War applies to printers.”

“Metal box bastard,” you cursed, not really listening to him, hitting the printer between each word as its empty print queue and paper heart accessories taunted you. “I wish I could be a useless piece of shit and still have people love me.”

“Are you jealous of a printer?” he asked, perplexed.

You ignored him and continued clicking around your laptop screen’s error messages in frustration. Standing behind you now, Soobin grabbed your hands to force you to stop, pulling you away from the printer.

“Hey, I love you, but you’re being insane. I’ll email the Prof, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

——————————

He was there two months later, when you were invited to a party your ex would be attending. Soobin offered to go with you without you even having to ask.

“You really don’t have to come. I know you hate parties,” you told him, sitting on his bed while you waited for him to choose a jacket.

In all honesty you didn’t want to go either, but it was your friend Hayeon’s birthday and you had to be there. Besides, you liked Hayeon. But she was also friends with Hyeontak even though she knew he was a cheater, which made you like her slightly less. Whatever. It wasn’t about you.

“It’s okay,” Soobin said, neither confirming nor denying. He couldn’t lie to you, anyway. You knew him too well. “Which one do you prefer?” he asked, holding up two nearly identical denim jackets.

You suppressed a laugh. “The black one. It looks good on you,” you said, and you swore you caught a faint blush on his cheeks before he turned around to put the dark blue denim jacket back in his wardrobe.

At the party, you struggled to get Hayeon’s attention for even a second. She was too popular for her own good. But you managed to bend her ear just long enough to wish her a happy birthday before she was whisked away by someone else.

You and Soobin retreated to a quieter part of the living room as soon as you could, exchanging wordless glances. It was painfully obvious to you that he wanted to go home. You checked the time and held up three fingers and a fist: thirty more minutes. That was probably the earliest you could leave without being rude.

“Y/N! Fancy seeing you here.”

You grimaced at the familiarity of that voice but turned around anyway. Soobin watched on carefully.

“Hey, Hyeontak. It’s been a while,” you greeted, keeping your voice as light as you could.  He had his arm wrapped around the waist of a girl you didn’t know, not that it mattered. The smug smirk on his face was a much bigger target of your anger.

“It really has. I heard you were pretty upset by, you know, everything,” Hyeontak said, smirking.

You raised an eyebrow and glanced at the girl. She seemed oblivious, and you weren’t going to say anything to her here in front of everyone. That would only humiliate her. Did you have a moral obligation to tell her in private?

“I understand, though. It’s hard to get over me,” he continued with a carefree laugh when you didn’t respond to his provocation. Without realising it, you kept looking over at Soobin for reassurance.

“You always did have an ego large enough for its own zip code, Hyeon,” you said jokingly, hoping the girl would think you were just friends trading friendly insults. You grinned with supreme malice and even threw in a giggle for good measure.

“Still hilarious as always, Y/N,” Hyeontak said, but you could tell he was on edge now and looking for a way out. “Anyway, it was nice catching up with you! I’ll see you around.”

He made a swift exit, dragging the girl he hadn’t bothered to introduce away in his wake. You looked at Soobin, amused. He rolled his eyes and you laughed as you watched Hyeontak leave.

Turning back to Soobin now, you asked, “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

The back patio of Hayeon’s house was empty, overlooking a small yard. Soobin took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh night air.

“Thanks,” he said. You could always tell when he was feeling overwhelmed. It was far too loud, hot, and crowded inside, but the cool breeze was helping him to calm down. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you replied, and for the first time in months you were starting to feel like maybe that wasn’t a lie. You hadn’t felt jealous at all earlier, you’d stood up for yourself, and now you were alone with your favourite person in the world. Just being around Soobin made you feel at ease.

“I’m not even mad at Hyeontak anymore,” you said honestly. “I’m just upset at myself for trusting him.”

Soobin crossed his arms and sat down on the edge of the patio, patting the spot beside him. “Well, I’ll be mad at him for you. Fuck that guy,” he deadpanned.

You let out a surprised laugh at his profanity — he didn’t curse often — as you sat down with him. “Why, thank you, Soup.”

“I hope he didn’t destroy your trust forever,” Soobin continued, sounding dead-serious despite your joking mood.

You turned to him, propping your head up on one hand. “What do you mean?”

“I like that you trust people so much. You have such an open heart,” he said, his tone muted as he looked at you. “It’s one of the best things about you.”

There was something different in his gaze tonight, although you didn't couldn’t tell what. Or perhaps it was the same as it always was, but you were just now seeing it fully for the first time. You shook your head and broke eye contact. There were too many things in your head.

It was a perfect late spring night, with clear skies and a crisp breeze that prevented you from feeling too warm. You sat in silence for a good while, with the atmospheric party noises in the background seeming to fade further and further away the longer you were alone with him.

Somehow, every party you went to together ended this way: with the two of you hiding out in a quiet part of the house by yourselves, away from the crowds and chaos. It was nice.

“Do you really mean that?” you asked after a long pause. You had never really thought of yourself as a particularly trusting person. “What you said about me having an open heart.”

He was serious again when he nodded. “I do.”

You returned his gaze. You could always tell if he was lying, and this time, he wasn’t. His eyes, soft and brown and kind, were genuine. He smiled.

“Let’s go,” you suggested, even though it hadn’t been thirty minutes. Something about his smile made you want to get out of there and go somewhere else. “I just need to say bye to Hayeon before we leave.”

He stood up to follow you into the house.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Soup. I’ll be fine,” you told him. He beamed, grateful and relieved, and waited for you outside.

When you returned, he gave you his black denim jacket to wear on the walk home.

——————————

He was there for you when a classmate of yours asked you out and you had a panic attack trying to reply to their text.

“I can’t do it.” You threw your phone across the room, your hands shaking.

“You like them, right? And they seem to really like you back,” Soobin assured, always the steady, patient one.

“They’re lying to me. They don’t actually like me, I’m not good enough for them,” you sobbed, frantic, your words tripping over one another to get out.

As much as you were over your ex, you couldn’t shake his betrayal. Maybe you did deserve to be cheated on. How could you ever believe anyone else when they said they liked you, if the man who’d told you that for a year had never meant it?

Soobin hugged you, one arm around your shoulders and the other on the back of your head. You were hyperventilating, crying not from hurt but from the embarrassment that, god, you couldn’t even text someone back. What was wrong with you?

“If you’re not ready, just tell them no,” he said, low and deliberate. “If they’re worth your time, they’ll understand.”

As he held you against his chest with your ear pressed to the soft fabric of his sweater, you could feel the vibrations of his voice and hear the slowness of his heartbeat, and you started to calm down almost instantly. His ability to pull you out of your spirals was unmatched, and it had always been.

“I’m never going to be normal again,” you sighed, now sounding resigned and exhausted instead of panicked. “I like them, and I can’t even- why can’t I just-”

“Be patient with yourself. You were with Hyeontak for a whole year.” Soobin slowly let you go, studying your expression, his eyes asking if you were fine without him having to say a thing.

“I’m good. Thanks, Soup,” you whispered, nodding as if to convince yourself. If anyone could make you believe that it was him, and the more you stared into his eyes the more sure of your words you became.

He smiled and rubbed your shoulder, his hand large and heavy and his touch firm and grounding. “You’ll be okay when you’re okay. You don’t have to rush.”

——————————

And he was here for you now, at yet another party, and you were starting to think that you would much rather be alone with him than in a house filled with people neither of you recognised.

Why were you here again?

Oh, right. Because Soobin’s roommate Yeonjun wanted him to get laid. Maybe this time you were here for him instead of the other way around. For once.

Yeonjun had thrown a massive party (in his and Soobin’s apartment, no less) to try and get Soobin ‘out of his shell’. Nevermind the fact that Soobin didn’t want to get out of his shell and was perfectly fine where he was.

“Hey,” Soobin waved you over the second you entered his apartment, visibly relieved at the sight of you. He was wearing that black denim jacket of his that you liked, which he wore nearly every day after you’d said it looked good on him.

“Hi. I can’t even recognise this place,” you said, looking around his packed apartment.

“Yeah, Yeonjun knows too many people,” he laughed, but you could tell he was nervous.

“Soobin!” Yeonjun called, stopping in his tracks when he saw you, the excitement in his face dissipating. “Oh. You’re here.”

Soobin punched him in the arm and scowled. “Don’t be rude.”

“You never talk to anyone else when they’re around,” Yeonjun whisper-shouted to him, like you weren’t standing right there.

“Don’t worry,” you said while holding up your hands, a disclaimer. “I won’t monopolise his time. Go have fun, Soup.”

Yeonjun grinned and gave you a hi-five. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about! You get it.” He patted Soobin hard on the back and nudged him over to a group of girls by the window.

“Wait!” Soobin exclaimed, jerking at the sudden motion. He immediately clammed up and dug his heels into the floor, resisting, but Yeonjun didn’t relent.

“The girl there in the leather skirt? She thinks you’re cute. Go talk to her,” he pushed, laughing. “Bye! Have fun!”

Soobin was propelled into the crowd against his will, turning back at you with pleading eyes, but it was too late. Yeonjun already had his arm around your shoulder, stopping you from rescuing him.

You found another group of people to talk to so you weren’t alone, although throughout the entire night your attention drifted sporadically back to Soobin. You kept glancing over at the window, sneaking glimpses of him and the girl in the leather skirt, not sure when exactly you’d started feeling jealous. He was laughing with her, and she was touching his arm.

Someone tapped your shoulder. It was Yeonjun. You excused yourself from the group you were talking to.

“Hey, sorry about earlier,” he said, much calmer than before. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offence taken,” you assured him, which was true. If it had been anyone else you probably would’ve been annoyed, but you knew Yeonjun meant well.

“That’s a relief,” he smiled, fixing his hair and clapping his hands together. “Soobin is- he’s holding out for someone and he can’t move on. I just want him to- uh-”

“Get laid?” you finished helpfully, echoing the text exchange Soobin had screenshotted and sent to you. You weren’t used to seeing Yeonjun stumbling over his words; he was always so assured and confident. And he wasn’t drunk yet either. You flagged it in your mind as something to come back to when you had the time.

Yeonjun laughed loudly. “Oh, he told you about that?”

Someone somewhere in the crowd was calling his name now. While you laughed along, you were still thinking about Soobin and who he was holding out for. And why your heart had dropped when you heard that.

“Look, I gotta go. Sorry again,” Yeonjun said, patting your shoulder. “Soobin really wanted you to be here, so thanks for coming.”

He disappeared into the crowd, leaving you by yourself to watch Soobin. The girl whispered something into his ear, and he laughed.

At that very moment, a slow song came on. Who would play a slow song now? Yeonjun. Right.

Soobin looked up at the abrupt music change and his eyes instantly locked on yours from across the room. You smiled, tight and close-lipped, as the girl took him by the arm and pulled him to dance with her. 

You slipped through the crowd and down the corridor to Soobin’s closed bedroom. He wouldn’t mind if you hid and waited out the party in there by yourself.

His room was small and neat and nicely-decorated, just large enough for a wardrobe, desk, and queen single bed (you knew that because you had bought him his bedsheets). When you came over you usually sat on his bed, while he took his desk.

There were traces of his personality everywhere, which you loved. A stack of books on his bedside table, a stuffed rabbit toy that you won for him from an arcade last year on his desk, and his precious hedgehog’s cage.

His window was cracked open, so you looked outside. He had a nice view of the nearby park. Resting your arms on the windowsill, made of metal and cool against your skin, you closed your eyes. You saw Soobin when you did, smiling at the girl in the leather skirt, with his eyes crinkled perfectly and his cheeks raised.

He was holding out for someone. Why did that make you feel disappointed?

Your phone buzzed. It was Yeonjun warning you Hyeontak was here, and that he would try to kick him out. Three months ago that would have bothered you, but you felt nothing now. You sent him back a quick thank you.

“Were you thinking about me?”

You spun around at the sudden voice to see Soobin standing in the entrance of his room, one shoulder leaning against the doorframe, thumbs hooked on the belt loops of his jeans. For the first time in your life, the sight of him made you nervous instead of calming you down.

“Huh-”

“Just now, when they played that song,” he continued, walking towards you. “Were you thinking about me? Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

All you could do was stare at him with your eyes wide in shock, desperately trying to read his face, his tone, his body language. You were normally good at that, so good it was unsettling to other people, but now you couldn’t at all.

He had his hands in his pockets while he looked at you, waiting for an answer that you were struggling to produce. It felt like your mind was whirring at ninety miles an hour, and yet your head was empty. You’d been with him in his room countless times, but you’d never felt like this before.

His eyes were both serious and anticipatory, like he was about to burst with emotion. Usually he was the first to fold during long pauses in conversations, but now he was uncharacteristically sure-footed in his silence. He wasn’t going to keep talking to fill it; he wanted you to speak.

When you finally did, all you could come up with was, “Why aren’t you out there with-”

“I’d rather be here with you,” he said, more decisive than you’d ever heard him, the sentiment so urgent he couldn’t even wait for you to finish your question. It was unlike him. You didn’t- couldn’t respond. “Can I show you something?”

You nodded dumbly and he took your hand to lead you to his bedside table. He opened the front cover of the book on top of his stack and pulled out a red paper heart.

“Do you remember this?” he asked, handing it to you.

“Of course.”

On Valentine’s Day, student union volunteers had been stationed around campus handing out paper hearts to ‘spread cheer’. Fresh off of a break-up at the time, you had scoffed at the idea. But when one of the volunteers offered a heart to you and Soobin, mistaking you two for a couple, you took it anyway and gave it to him.

And he’d kept it. You turned it over in your hand, tracing its scalloped edges and feeling the grit of the sparkly red paper. It had not a single crease, fold, or tear on it, even after months.

“That day we spent trekking all over the city looking for a working printer was the best Valentine’s Day of my life,” Soobin told you, soft and sentimental. “Because I was with you.”

Your gaze shifted from the paper heart to his face. In that moment, you realised why he was the only person who could calm you down when you panicked, why he was the only person you ever wanted to be around, why you always found yourself turning to him for reassurance. Because when he looked at you, you felt seen.

“Really? Even though I had a breakdown and started quoting Sun Tzu at the HP DeskJet- whatever?” you asked. You still remembered that, because he had found it so funny. You tended to keep track of those things so you could make him laugh again. 

“That was a bonus,” he said, taking the paper heart back from you for safekeeping. His fingers brushed yours, and you felt a jolt of electricity that had never been there before.

“Yeonjun told me you’re ‘holding out for someone’,” you said, unsure, glancing over his shoulder at the party still raging outside. He smiled at your slowness, giggling as you (finally) put the pieces together. “And- I’m now realising he was talking about me.”

“I knew you’d get there eventually,” he teased, raising one hand to your chin. You leaned into his touch instinctively, and he brought his lips to yours. They were soft and warm and tasted like mint lip balm. He had bought that lip balm from a 7-Eleven when you were out one night and his lips were cracked and bleeding, along with a Kit-Kat for you.

He put his other hand on the small of your back to draw you nearer to him, and you grabbed the front of his jacket. Everywhere he touched you, you came alive.

“Listen, I’m processing a lot all at once,” you mumbled in the kiss, defending yourself, holding onto his collar. He smiled against your mouth. The worn denim of his jacket folded and crumpled under your grip, soft in a way it wasn’t when it was new, a testament to just how often he wore it after Hayeon’s party a few months ago.

You were breathless by the time you separated, although he was not. He leaned his forehead lightly against yours, beaming. His smile made you dizzy. 

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured. Your lips were swollen, as were his. “When did you start liking me?”

“Chuseok two years ago, when everyone else was going home to visit their families and I had to stay on campus,” he answered, completely void of hesitation. “You invited me over for dinner and we cooked together even though we barely talked back then.”

Three years ago, at the start of university, you and Soobin were part of a loosely-tied social circle. You were acquaintances at best at the time. But that Chuseok, you reached out to him on a whim knowing both of you would be alone for the festivities otherwise. He came over to your apartment (your roommates had all gone home) and you had a two-person feast.

It was originally meant to be a casual hangout held solely so neither of you would have to spend Chuseok by yourselves. All you knew about him then was that he was tall, cute, and relatively quiet.

But you and him had so much fun cooking together that you stayed up all night talking. A large part of that conversation was spent lamenting about how you hadn’t become friends sooner, even though you’d known each other for a year.

A larger part was about your families, your worries, and your greatest fears, because for whatever reason you felt compelled to tell each other everything. He had crashed on your living room floor that night, and you somehow manhandled him (height and all) into your bed while you took the sofa for yourself.

From that day on, you became closer and closer. As you moved through university, you started to drift away from the superficial friendships formed out of necessity in your first year. But he stuck around, and became your sole close friend.

“I woke up in your bed and saw you sleeping in the living room using my coat as a blanket, and that’s when I knew,” he told you, cupping your face in his hands, his voice soft and low.

His gaze and touch were warm as always, but unlike before when the warmth came from his hands, this time it started in your heart and spread outwards. You knew exactly which coat he was talking about, a long black puffer he’d been obsessed with in your second year. He still had it, you were pretty sure.

“Two years?” you breathed, looking up at him wide-eyed through your lashes. Yeonjun’s impatience was starting to make sense to you now. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I wasn’t waiting. If I never got the chance to tell you, I’d be okay with that too,” Soobin said, sweeping his thumb lightly over your cheek. “I had to be sure you felt the same. I couldn’t risk ruining our friendship otherwise.”

You shook your head, smiling, unable to comprehend how you got so lucky. “I don’t deserve you,” you told him.

In response, he pulled you back towards him and kissed you harder, more desperately, with a fervour so antithetical to his usual calm disposition that you melted in his arms right then and there. You could feel his want, his longing, his sincerity, and you wondered how you could have been so blind as to not see it earlier.

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded.

You wondered how you didn’t see your own. He was your answer to everything, and had been for so long. You couldn’t find the appropriate words to reassure him that, yes, you weren’t going to leave him — some feelings were too big, too wide, too much, to be expressed verbally — so you just kissed him again. And again. And again. You’d missed out on two whole years, after all.

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

[catslvrr]

heaven sent — 02. cat cafe

previous | next

Again, you woke up to the sound of I Like To Move It.

To your surprise, Danielle wasn’t in your room. You trudged to the bathroom with bleary eyes to wash up and get dressed for whatever idea that Danielle had cooked up, which you were sure would be a waste of time.

You almost tripped on your own two feet when you saw Minji and Danielle in the kitchen, talking animatedly. You cleared your throat.

“Good morning, babe!” Danielle smiled sweetly, standing up and pulling you towards the two of them.

“Babe?” You choked on thin air, coughing erratically as you tried to escape her grip, but she only held you tighter in response.

“Bro.” Minji punched your arm.

“Ow!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?” She chided with a sulky expression.

“What?” You looked to Danielle for help, but she only sent you a threatening smile, which you didn’t know she was capable of, that screamed just go with it.

“Don’t act stupid!” Minji scowled and began to rant, “No wonder why you’re so grumpy all the time, you just miss your girlfriend! Long distance relationships must be hard…”

She paused, glancing at Danielle, “Australia, right?” who nodded in confirmation.

Australia?

“Bro,” Minji dapped you up. “I’m still mad at you for not telling me, but I’m happy for you anyways. I’ll be out of your hair so you can make the most of this time with your lovely girlfriend.”

She then downed her smoothie, and attempted to wink at you, which looked more like she was trying to blink for help in morse code.

“I’m leaving now! Keep the intimate stuff inside the bedroom, you know how I am with germs.”

She slammed the door shut on her way out, leaving the two of you with an awkward silence.

You glared at Danielle. “Are you going to explain what just happened?”

“I was just thinking ahead,” she defended herself. “Do you have a better explanation for having a random girl over for the next two weeks?”

“Well, no,” you sputtered. “But couldn’t you just have introduced yourself as a friend? And Australia, really?”

“Look,” she folded her arms. “It worked! And that’s all that matters.”

“Whatever.”

Your grumbling was rudely interrupted by your car keys being thrown at you unannounced, almost killing you. “Catch!”

“What the fuck?”

“Let’s go!” You watched her skip outside. “I’ll give you the directions.”

You held back a smile as you pulled up to the location.

“A cat cafe?”

Danielle grinned, bouncing her leg up and down. “Who can resist cats? My fellow messengers tell me that it’s a foolproof way to make someone happy.”

You quirked an eyebrow in curiosity as both of you got out of the car. “You have coworkers? When did you have the time to ask them?”

“Well, when you sleep, I return to the office. And then I come back to Earth before you wake up.”

“Oh,” you said. “I kinda thought you just sat there and watched me sleep.”

She glanced at you, bewildered, as you held the door to the cafe open for her. “Why would I do that?”

You shrugged, and proceeded to grimace as you read the entry fee of the cat cafe.

“...You can spawn in money, right?”

“Yes.” Danielle frowned, “But it’s against the code of conduct. Something about inflation.”

“Wow,” you drawled, unimpressed. “Glad that God’s keeping up with the economy.”

By the time you paid for both you and Danielle, she was already sitting on a beanbag, covered with a litter of kittens.

“It’s only been two minutes,” you gawked at her. “How are there already so many cats on you?”

You could barely see her sheepish smile, half covered by a cat’s tail.

“Must be a side effect of being God’s messenger,” she said, voice muffled.

You sat down beside her, petting an orange cat that was licking itself rather aggressively. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you.

“Is it working?” Danielle suddenly blurted out.

You shot her a confused look.

“Are you happy?”

You chuckled at her expectant stare.

“I mean the cats are cute,” you said. “But I’m not jumping around in joy or whatever.”

She gently picked the cats off her, sitting up to look at you. “Why don’t you own a cat? I feel like they’d add a bit of joy in your life. This cafe offers adoptions, you know.”

The orange cat that you were petting moved to lay in your lap.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “I can barely take care of myself, let alone a whole pet.”

“Is it because of university?”

“I guess you could say that.” You gave a wry smile, a faraway look in your eyes. Danielle looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but decided against it.

The orange cat lifted its head, leaning up to rub its face against yours, as if consoling you. There was a hint of a smile on your face as you rubbed its chin. Danielle watched the interaction, biting her cheek to hide her own growing smile.

She sank further into the beanbag as more cats piled on top of her. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“Me?” You looked at her skeptically. “What’s there to know about me?”

“Everything,” she answered. “Anything you feel like sharing.”

“Well,” you started slowly. “I’m a first year university student. I study law. That’s about it.”

“Is it hard?”

“Lots of reading,” you sighed, still absentmindedly petting the orange cat. “And lots of writing.”

“Why'd you choose law?”

You replied a beat late.

“No reason. Just felt like it.” You looked outside the window, watching cars drive by. There was that faraway look in your eyes again, as if you weren’t really here. Danielle decided to change the subject.

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“What would I be like as a university student?”

Danielle internally cheered as she saw your mouth curve up ever so slightly.

“You’d be in veterinary science or something. I think you’d be good at taking care of animals. You seem like the type to love them. And clearly they love you too,” you smiled. A small one, but a smile nonetheless.

The two of you spent the rest of the time mostly in silence, basking in the comfort of the cats and occasionally making idle conversation.

It was nice to be just doing nothing, for once. It was a welcome respite from the chaos and stress of university. It had been a while since you had gone outside to do something leisurely. You liked how natural this all felt. The cute cats were a bonus too, of course.

Danielle was easy to be around — she wasn’t the type to be scared of gaps in conversation. And you appreciated that, you never liked having to force yourself to speak out of necessity.

(The only other person who made you feel this comfortable was Minji, much to your dismay. She was initially a bit off-put by your standoffish attitude, and similarly, you were disgruntled by her extroverted nature. But the two of you eventually adapted to each other’s personalities over some shared meals, which established your current dynamic of Minji being a talkative nuisance and you being an annoyed loser.)

Eventually, you yawned and glanced at the clock, stretching your limbs. “Think our time’s up.”

The orange cat hopped off your lap and strutted away, annoyed by your movement. Danielle carefully scooped the kittens off her and placed them on the ground, saying bye to each one.

You took one last glance at the orange cat, who was now sleeping on a cat tree, before making your way outside with Danielle.

The car ride back was filled with Danielle’s trivial questions.

(“So what’s your favorite color?”

“Green.”

“Any reason why?”

“…No.”

“Morning person or night owl?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Right. Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Vanilla.”

“Boring.”

“I bet you like strawberry ice cream. With sprinkles on top.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it!”

(This continued until you reached the apartment.)

You did stop by a Taco Bell drive-through on the way back, per Danielle’s request. She claimed that her coworkers hyped up the Baja Blast, and that she wanted to try it. It wasn’t anything particularly special. At least you got a Crunchwrap Supreme for yourself.)

“You know,” Danielle said, rocking back and forth on her feet as the both of you stood at the entrance of the apartment. “I’m surprised you’re taking this whole messenger from God thing so well.”

You shrugged. “I mean, who am I to say no to happiness?”

She took a loud sip from her Baja Blast.

“So, what will you do now?”

“I’m gonna cook up some instant noodles. And then I’m gonna nap.”

“Seriously?” She groaned. “Do you not do anything else besides eat and sleep?”

You looked at her blankly. “Yes.”

“Today wasn’t bad for a first day, right?” She smiled at you uncertainly, but you saw a flicker of hope in her eyes, one that you could easily put out. “Did you have a good time?”

You decided not to.

“Yeah,” you offered a faint smile. “I did.”

Danielle beamed, relieved, and pulled you in for a hug. You awkwardly patted her on the back, noting that happiness suited her much better.

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow, girlfriend.” She said teasingly, before turning on her heels and disappearing right in front of you.

previous | next

[moonshynecybin]

if you don’t mind my asking, what were the best/worst parts about living in ireland to you?

stuff i LOVED: everyone was the nicest person ive ever met im not even JOKING... wahh... my first day some lady paid my bus fair and was just so overwhelmingly kind about it... i loved living in dublin for the ability to go into a city (i am from a very rural area and it was LOVELY) and see big old buildings and museums and pubs and get to do all these things that i just never had the option to do... public transportation ruled.... and i got to TRAVEL for so much cheaper than we do in the USA and i made a lot of FRIENDS both international and irish and american.... went to irish oktoberfest with a bunch of germans and italians and taught them how to play FLIP CUP cuz they didnt know... went to scotland with my roommates and friends.... drank a lot of guinness and walked around all the parks... saw the bog bodies at the natural history museum... got drunk adn walked around temple bar... bahhh i REALLY did like it whenever i wasnt trapped inside the house...

Stuff i HATED under the cut it has truly nothing to do with the country it was my living situation. lol. well actually im gonna be honest the weather was ASS but i knew that goin in. got to see some rainbows who CARES:

um the BIGGEST THING. was that my living situation was five alarm bell insane. i had to pick a place before flying over so i only saw it over facetime(RUH ROH) and my landlords did not seem interested in providing me and my roommates (two other american girls in their mid twenties) with a liveable space like at all. they never turned the heat on (i was shivering literally constantly. the other girls showered at the university bc it was literally too cold to do it at home. AND they didnt let us buy any electronics without prior approval so we could not buy like. a space heater. it was CRAZY i could see my breath in my ROOM...). they didnt allow any visitors not even my MOM to let me move in. there was a curfew they didnt tell us about. we didnt have a sink in our kitchen (and we had to walk outside to a different part of the building to access it). there was mold EVERYWHERE.AND apparently the reason we were living there was to fund house renovations so they were constantly kicking us out of our rooms to let in builders/construction people (one of the final straws was my roommate coming back from xmas break to find that they had moved her and ALL her stuff out of her room to do a renovation literally without telling her lol. they moved a WALL and we didnt have a SINK STILL...). they tried to enter my room without my permission. and all of this was PROHIBITIVELY expensive like genuinely i could have gotten a studio with the fees i was paying (and they made us pay in cash so. ATM fees compounded all that lol) BUT. they had us trapped in this ILLEGAL lease that stipulated that if we moved out we would owe our ENTIRE remaining rent for the agreed lease period. we sent this to a lawyer later he was like these guys are buckshit insane. i firmly believe they chose american girls and didnt let our parents like. even see the exterior of the house because they knew our moms would call bullshit immediately but WHATEVERRR... anyways after i left i found out that they had a secret baby that they didnt tell us about either. CRAZY!!!!

my school program also was not the most rigorous AND my migraine symptoms started while i was over there soooooo in addition to literally being cold ALL the time, i had NO idea what was going on with my head/health + i didnt really have the resources to find a new place/fight with my landlords + i was rapidly running out of money bc of how expensive everything about my housing was + i wasnt even getting the education i wanted because my professors sucked ass. so when i went home for winter break i just didnt come back ! and i got my roommates to send my stuff to the states. it was like the most insane six months of my life i lost like ten pounds from stress lol

[lheslie]

Taehoon with an S/O who has a kid

He never thought he'd fall for someone who has a kid

He doesn't like babysitting that's for sure. He thinks kids are disgusting eating boogers and snots.

But your kid is well behaved. Sometimes too energetic but is very clean.

"I make sure they're always clean, so they won't get sick." You tell him while feeding the kid some food

The kid in question was just looking at Taehoon.

This kid was basically planned by you and your ex-lover m, but your ex-lover just decided he wasn't ready and left you, and the kid behind.

Even though your lover had left. You still studied in to finish school.

Your kid was shy, hiding behind you while looking at Taehoon and Taehoon just stares back at him like there was a staring contest.

But one day you had something important to go to and no one was going to watch your kid so you asked Taehoon if it was alright for him to watch them.

Taehoon didn't like the idea but he had no choice since you were practically begging him.

The kid was looking at him staring. "What do ya want?" he asked the kid and the kid shrugged.

"Then just sit there and be quiet." He said as he started to exercise and the kid was just staring at him but was now amazed.

The kid started to imitate him. Taehoon noticed "Ya like that?" he asked at the kid nodded.

He walked some the storage room and took out some Dobok and gave it to him.

"Lemme teach ya Taekwondo" He said as the kid took the clothes.

"Uhm, I don't know how to wear these." Your kid said as Taehoon sighs and helps the kid change into clothes and even gave him a white belt.

The kid was jumping in joy ready to learn Taekwondo as Taehoon explained the origin of Taekwondo.

Later you came back to take your kid home to see them training with Taehoon.

You thought it was adorable. You were just watching them as your child noticed you and ran to you.

"Took ya long enough. The kid started imitating me when I practiced so I taught them some. You practically owe me some fees."

You giggled "How much?"

"Nah, just kidding."

You were happy they started bonding.

Taehoon still wasn't used being with a kid but he learned to adapt.

He noticed your kid was matured for their age. The kid was understanding but still sometimes naughty.

He stopped cussing, smoking and drinking beer whenever the kid was around.

He even started to buy the kid some gifts.

If the kids sometimes a bit naughty he'd kick them. Not too hard tho.

Your kid basically learned some things from Taehoon.

The kid basically bacame Taehoon Jr. You were actually shocked when your kid started to cuss. And you got mad about it.

Your kid is understanding and would not cuss inside the household. They would only cuss whenever they're outside beating the shit out of people.

Taehoon would basically be proud of them. And one time they accidentally called Taehoon dad and Taehoon smiled.

Even though your kid was a Taehoon Jr. They were still respectful and kind it's a good thing you were their parent.

He would also use the kid as dumbells and your kid is enjoying it.

He almost can't wait to see Taehoon everyday.

"Stop being loud kid."

"Shut yer trap"

"Slow down ya might trip again"

"Yer too annoying"

"If you got lost, I won't be finding you."

"No, means no." will buy the kid what they want in the end.

He can't resist the kid.

He would mostly Teach the kid to live how ever they want.

"Ya wanna do what? Yea sure. Just don't die. I don't got no money for yer burial expenses."

If the kid got into fights. Taehoon would only care if the kid won.

"Ya should've crippled them" Taehoon said to your kid while he was applying ointments."

"Taehoon..." You sigh.

"What? You shouldn't give em any chances of attacking again."

"Look, I'm proud that they stood up for themselves but crippling them would mean Jail and I don't want them to go to Jail" You tell Taehoon.

"Relax, we can bail em." Taehoon said as you just looked at him wide eyed.

"Really?"

[n1ghtcrwler]

Revival, Part One

From the records of John Matteson Dated 1 August 2028

“You look like shit,” Fox said as I walked into the office.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Have you been drinking again?”

I slumped onto the couch. “A little. It’s not what you think, I just…needed a little.”

“The fact that you need it is the problem. Now get off your ass and clean yourself up, you have a client waiting in your office.” I pointed at my office door and silently expressed my confusion. “She didn’t give me a name, but swore you’d recognize her, the poor thing. So I let her wait there.”

I grumbled and went to the bathroom, to adjust my tie and clean up my face. When I was satisfied it was as good as it was going to get for now, I went into my office. “Good morning,” I said, closing the door behind me. “What can I do fo–” I froze as she turned to face me.

“Hi, John,” Lori said.

Twenty-three years, this November. It was like a timer went off in my brain, counting from the last time I’d seen her; one I didn’t even know was running. We stared at each other for a moment that felt way too long, and then I caught my breath and hurriedly made my way to my desk.

“Matteson,” I managed to get out, before clearing my throat and trying again. “People call me Matteson.”

She looked concerned as she leaned forward. “No one did until her, John,” she whispered. “You’re not–”

“What can I do for you, Lori?”

There was a long pause, and then she sighed and leaned back into her chair. “Are you familiar with Mystics Anonymous?”

“I am. I know a guy, Benedict de Monte, works with them.”

“I’ve met him. He said you were doing well, didn’t mention the eye patch. What happened?”

“That’s…new. It also isn’t why you came.”

“We’ve run into a problem.” She started to explain her role with the group, how she had spent the last two decades helping people deal with supernatural trauma, how she went back to school and became a psychiatrist. Apparently, she had tried to help some people in this small town in Massachusetts, but came to realize that whatever was causing the trauma was still active. “We don’t have people that deal with this sort of thing. I needed outside help, and you were the most qualified person I could think of. And, you know, it’s been a while, I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to have that conversation, but thank you. I can do Massachusetts. What do you know about this thing?”

“I’m under the impression it’s some kind of nature spirit, must be angry about something. I don’t know, John. I usually only deal with these situations after someone has been through it and needs help, and they tell me what they experienced, and sometimes the type of spirit that did it matters and sometimes it doesn’t. I don’t really know how to identify spirits in the field. What are your fees?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“John, no, don’t do that.”

“I couldn’t–”

“Don’t. I’m here to hire you because of your skill set, not because I’m looking for pity.” She crossed her arms and stared me down until I threw my hands up and leaned back.

“Fine. I can head up tomorrow. Make sure Fox has the address to send your bill.”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to check in with some people here, and I flew in. Would you be okay with waiting until Thursday, and giving me a ride up?”

“Sure. Alpha will be happy to see you.”

“You still have the same car?”

“Always.”

She laughed and stood. “Thank you, John. I’ll meet you here on Thursday.”

I walked her out, waited while she gave Fox her information, then watched the door for a little longer than I realized after it closed behind her.

“So who is that?” Fox asked.

“Lori Berman.”

“Yeah, I got that.” She held up the paper she’d just written Lori’s info on. “Who is she to you?”

“You can lose that, by the way. I’m not billing her.” I dropped onto the couch and loosened my tie as I leaned back.

“Why would you wanna do that? Matteson, what the hell is going on here? Who is that woman, really?”

“I can’t bill her. Not after…I owe her, is all. It’s complicated. Old news. Don’t worry about it.”

“Look, Matteson. It doesn’t have to be me, I get it, but you need to talk to someone. All these secrets aren’t healthy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, getting up and heading into my office. “I’ll be out of the office starting Thursday.” I heard Fox grumble something as I closed the door behind me. Probably best not to find out what.

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[peachymilkandcream]

Written In Blood|Part 2|Modern Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: I really wanted to explore these two more and I can honestly say an AU of them is pretty fun. Hope you enjoy and comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: implied noncon/dubcon, graphic descriptions of violence, domestic violence, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere behaviour/themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, misogyny, etc.

===============================================

Levi knew the ins and outs of the legal system by now, with his knowledge he had easily been able to get dangerous criminals returned back in the streets to blame for his own crimes later. With many parties to blame the suspicion never fell on him. All criminals from the poor to the wealthy wanted him to represent them, knowing how he could baffle the prosecution and somehow get acquittals left and right even when the defendant was clearly guilty.

Everyone wanted his secrets, but he would keep those to himself. Finding out what poor souls were put on jury duty and charming them was his specialty. Offering a joke with some of the men, a understanding smile and feign interest as he heard another mind-numbing golf story. With the women, flirtations and promises of future intimacy to make them forget their worthless husbands or partners. Unanimously they always found his defendants not guilty.

"Ah, Mr. Schmidt was it?" He sits down, grimacing at the probably filthy chair set out for him.

"The hell do you want, some fancy rich asshole in a suit, what do you want with me? What, do I owe you money or something?"

"I'm a lawyer Mr. Schmidt, Levi Ackerman, have you heard of me?"

"Yeah I know you, you're the guy who gets everyone off with a slap on the wrist huh?"

"The same."

"I can't pay your big bucks, sorry."

"No don't worry about that, I only want to take this case because I'm curious as to the crime and why? Why go after someone so famous who could throw you in jail like this?"

"Because she's hot and rich, and who doesn't like that. But I'm telling you, she's got that rich bitch attitude that goes with it. Now I don't like that in a woman, y'know what I mean?"

"Absolutely, I feel the exact same way."

"So I figured I'd knock her down a peg or two."

"And how would you do that?"

"Break in, scare her a little, get her to drive herself crazy and then break in and fuck her 'til she's a fuckin' cum dumpster. See if she's still high and mighty then."

Deep down Levi could rip out the man's teeth, talking about his target that way disgusted him. If anyone he'd be the one doing that.

"I completely understand. Now how did you go about finding the address?"

"Apparently in one of her friend's personal posts they show the apartment number. It wasn't hard to find street and city. After that it was history."

"Now I'm obligated to ask if you regret what you did."

"Are you kidding? Fuck no. I regret that I got caught is all. "

"Good to know. And if you got back on the streets what would you do with your freedom?"

"Probably try again, now I know what her security looks like."

"Understandable."

"You're really gonna represent me even though I can't pay your fees?"

"Of course I am, not so much for you, but because I'm interested to see this woman you've taken so much interest in."

"Oh trust me, she's sexy as hell let me tell you that."

"I don't doubt it." Levi stands.

"What you don't need some more information or stuff-?"

"I'll be back for that, don't worry. See you in court."

"Yeah I guess so. Hey what are you going to do with that stuff I told you?"

Levi chuckles. "Who knows? Maybe I'll just finish what you started."

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Its absolutely wild to me how anyone still supports or even buys from bjd div4s. There was a facebook post that I'm guessing got deleted by the admins, since one of them is their biggest supporters (and div4s pays them for advertising), so they took it off when people posted how often things go missing, not included in their orders when a person was asking for advice, that div4s doesnt do much to help.

This person didnt get their order, and has been waiting many months after everyone else got theirs. This person isnt getting help from div4s, and has to contact the company directly but is also not getting help. Div4s basically washed their hands saying they did what they could, and the company says that the item was already sent. So what does the customer get? No doll, no money, no refund and they have to runaround trying to fix things. What was the point of ordering through the dealer then? The only thing that dealer is doing to help their poor customer is relay the customers message to the company. Absolutely laughable.

If anyone dares speak up or write an honest review, they harass the customer. This is why they were suspended on DOA, because they tried to police the honest reviews they got. [Mod: Anon, I removed a few lines here for your protection because you identified yourself by describing a very specific interaction)

Look at their customers of the d0llshe preorder who afaik STILL didnt get refunds, but instead div4s wants to file a lawsuit that will go nowhere, instead of you know, paying the customers back what they owe them. Those customers paid div4s so they wouldnt have to deal with d0llshe. Why would they need to wait to get their refunds, when the only person they paid and dealt with is bjd div4s? they should have given them an immediate refund and chase d0llshe for their money instead of punishing customers who trusted them. Some of the customers have gone to d0llshe begging him for their money back, and ofcourse no reply. This is why I highly recommend you never buy from div4s since they don't have accountability, they expect their customers to do everything for them.

If you are thinking of purchasing from divas, you are better off buying direct. Even if the communication with the company is spotty, I can guarantee you they will offer you more help and better communication than divas. Div4s likes to push messages down to the bottom of the queue if a customer sends more than one message, since their previous message wasnt replied to within a week. Petty.

One more thing, if you are ordering through div4s for an item on DOA or elsewhere, message the seller and ask them how much the item sold. A person used their service to purchase a doll from there and then found out that div4s had sent a lower offer to the seller, but had not passed the lower price to the buyer. Making the buyer pay full price AND the shopping fee of the full price. The layaway terms arent even worth the shopping fee price, ask the seller directly if they would accept a layaway, you are better off that way and there wont be big shopping fees + paypal fees.

If you miraculously get a refund, it will be with the paypal fees deducted. So you basically gave them an interest free loan, and paid them to have the loan for not being able to process your order correctly.

~Anonymous

[shuttershocky]

Does the passage of time ever depress you?

You know what depressed me? Being in college with half my department branding me as an undesirable graduate because of my poor grades and trying to boot me out. I was in and out of the admin office managing an appeal every time they kicked me. I was being told things like to be on my guard because I was being watched for the smallest mistake and professors that helped me would get in trouble. It was bad enough that someone raised ethical concerns about how they were treating me.

So one day I thought I'd rather just kill myself than explain to my parents that 5 years of tuition fees went down the drain because I took a course I was warned in high school that I couldn't do. I walked from my department to the road where I knew trucks drove fast and kept nearly hitting me wherever I crossed.

I waited for a truck, stepped out on to the road, then jumped back on to the sidewalk when this seething hatred for my department and academia surged through my thoughts and I realized if I died here then they'd finally get rid of me, but if I walked back and miraculously passed the hell semester they designed, then I'd be in their faces for one more year.

The truck flew past me, so close and so fast that the wind slapped my face. It didn't even bother to slow down when it saw a student on the road.

So I went back, and with the sheer power of venomous, unending spite (and some luck), I passed all my classes while doing both my thesis (I owe my adviser my life for her being so understanding, and my thesis was a truly cool project that sent me all over the place) and my part time job for a nearby indie game dev.

During my graduation, the Dean of Engineering (who I also owe my life to) asked the crowd to raise hands if they were graduating in 4 years. Then she asked for 5. Then 6. Then 7+, with the last batch laughing nervously while raising their hands. Then the Dean said to raise those hands with pride, because even if it took awhile and even if the grades weren't perfect, graduation is graduation. You did it. You're getting that degree.

And thats when it really hit me, you know? At the end of the day, I won. A bit unfortunate that none of my professors attended my graduation, because I really was hoping they'd see me get my degree. I wanted them to see that I wouldn't be there if I didn't learn to despise my department the way it despised me.

Does the passage of time depress me? Sometimes I feel nostalgic. My elementary school is gone now, and my high school is nearly unrecognizable after renovations. I've had difficulties keeping in touch with some friends who I still feel much fondness for, and I wish I had been there during some milestones of their lives. But the passage of time itself? No.

What depressed me was being told that I was undesirable. What depressed me was being told that I was being watched for the smallest mistakes. What depressed me was seeing the years of fluking my way through scholarships and other things meant for genuinely gifted kids and not good test-takers (I was good at memorization) finally catch up to me when my ambitions exceeded my abilities.

Now I'm a working adult with a completely different job using skills I got from the various part time jobs and internships I took over my college years rather than anything I actually learned from my classes. Having a daily grind sucks, and so does things like needing to buy food and pay taxes and all other necessities that shrink your salary, but it doesn't depress me.

Every time I feel down or tired, I recall the time I fucking won and this wide, hateful, bitter smile splits my face in two. I'm still here to enjoy the years go by, seething in my trauma, but still here.

Let me just add that I don't like recommending spite as a motivation. Hatred is exhausting and soul-sucking in a way that nothing else is like, and I'm the sort of person that prefers to find even a little joy in whatever I'm currently doing. I feel like if you push yourself forward through spite, you hollow yourself out and become unable to fully enjoy the good that you find.

I can't however, say that spite isn't real damn effective.

It sure worked for me.

[shedidntevenswear]

My sister was lucky enough to get six tickets to the Taylor Swift concert in New Jersey for face value ($130) through Ticketmaster Verified Fans. She is using three of them for me, herself and my megafan daughter, and then decided recently to sell the remaining three. She looked at ticket prices online and seats in our section were being offered for around $3,000 each, plus the $900 in fees added on the last page of checkout.

She asked me to post them in a large Manhattan-moms Facebook group I am a member of for $2,400 each or best offer. I acknowledged that this was a bonkers price for these seats, but cheaper than the current market. We thought this was a win-win as people could go to the concert for less than they would pay through a ticket site, and we wouldn’t have to pay seller’s fees.

Instead, I got several angry messages and comments from strangers saying the price was unreasonable. One person asked what my sister paid for the tickets and said that it was wrong to ask for so much more than that original price.

As these tickets were for a fun, optional event and not anything essential like masks during a pandemic, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with profiting from them and charging market prices. Am I missing something? Do I owe strangers “reasonable” resale values? — Name Withheld

From the Ethicist:

Ordinarily, if you buy something, you’re entitled to sell it on, and to do so at whatever price the market has set. But the only reason you can resell a ticket at many times the original price is that the artist had decided to offer them for less than she could get, and so make them affordable to fans of more modest means. When people, or their army of bots, buy those lower-priced tickets in order to resell them, they’re abusing that restraint, and reducing the availability of seats at more reasonable prices.

That’s the case against Swift scalpers. But your sister didn’t buy these tickets to resell them. She just wound up with three she can’t use and had to distribute them somehow. People in your online community thus gained the opportunity to buy them for a good deal less than they’d be charged on, say, StubHub, though still a hefty sum. Had she offered them for close to what she paid and forfeited a steep markup, someone else might well have flipped the tickets and pocketed that profit. Besides, if the Manhattan moms didn’t like the price, all they had to do was not pay it. That’s how markets work. The trouble is that some members of this Facebook group, it seems, don’t think it’s an arena where market values should operate. As a member of the group, you should consider whether they’re entitled to this feeling — or whether they should shake it off.

[wirexbiter]

elijah & mallory

Mallory's head fuckin' hurt. But, what else was new? To put it mildly, he wasn't in good spirits. Worse still, he was irritated. It wasn't like he expected much -- he knew very well how fucked the power grid was and any kind of generator was just asking for trouble. They were too loud -- which would invite all kinds of bad news. Those... things, whatever the hell they were, weren't so hard to deal with, not when their numbers were small.

However...

It was the human element that made things complicated. People did bad shit when they were desperate. Snap judgements were necessary, but difficult to make. They were all just trying to survive -- bad or good no longer mattered. It was me and mine, end of story.

Not that Mallory was some kind of bleeding heart. But, they had helped him and he wasn't the sort that went around not returning favors. He owed these people his life and that wasn't something he took lightly at all.

Even if, like today, they grated on his nerves.

He spotted who he was looking for as he rounded a corner, signature scowl in place. "Hey asshole," he greeted Elijah, not bothering with pleasantries. "Where the hell are the batteries we found two days ago? I need them."

Did he explain why he needed them? No, of course not. He wasn't feeing very forthcoming this morning. He had a sneaking suspicion the batteries he was talking about were currently being used for something idiotic, which already had him in a foul mood just thinking about it.

@warriorstranded

[bloody-bee-tea]

BeeTober 2023 Day 30 - Castle

“You understand, right?“ Suguru’s mother asks over the phone and Suguru barely hears her over the ringing in his ears.

“Right,” he tonelessly gives back.

“Tell him with that lifestyle of his, it’s just—” his father’s voice trails off in the background.

Right, his lifestyle. The one where he lives together with Satoru and is gay. Not that these two are connected in any way, no matter how much he wants them to be.

“Yes, the thing with your boyfriend,” his mother unsurely relays his father’s words and Suguru sucks in a sharp breath.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he tells his mother, not for the first time, but of course she barely even listens to him.

“We simply cannot, in good conscience, support this anymore.”

“That includes my studies?” Suguru asks because he needs to know just how fucked he truly is.

If his parents no longer send him money for anything he needs to know that.

“You should have just taken up work in that car shop in town,” Suguru’s father tells him and Suguru’s mouth twists in a sneer.

He’s been studying philosophy on a teacher’s degree for two years now and still his father never fails to bring that up.

“I understand,” Suguru says after a long pause where no one says anything and then simply hangs up on his parents.

His hand is shaking, he belatedly realises, and as if it was just waiting for him to notice the tremor spreads through his entire body. Suguru could have managed rent somehow; there is always need for someone to work more hours at the coffee shop he works at after all. But adding his tuition fees to that? There’s no way he will be able to pay for that as well.

Suguru thought he had something good going for him, built a life of his own with Satoru—no matter how platonic it might be—but now he realises that it was like a castle build on sand.

And it’s all coming down around him.

Suguru doesn’t know how he’s going to cover all of his expenses, doesn’t know how he’ll work enough hours and study at the same time but there is one thing he definitely knows.

Satoru can never know about this.

~*~*~

Suguru applied for several scholarships, most of which accepted him. That means he has most of his tuition fees covered, but he has to maintain his grades. And working three shifts at two different jobs is not helping with that.

Suguru barely sleeps these days, spending his days working or studying—and sometimes both—and he only eats what he can scarf down on his way to classes or work.

It’s all something he can cope with, somehow, by telling himself that it’s temporary, that it will get better once he finished his studies and takes up a full-time job but the one thing he cannot cope with is not being able to see Satoru.

Their schedules were erratic at best even before this entire mess happened but now Suguru is barely home. He leaves before Satoru is up and comes back home long after he has gone to sleep—if Suguru comes home at all and doesn’t pull an all-nighter in the library—and he misses Satoru something fierce.

He misses his stupid hair and his stupid glasses and the ease with which they always fit together, be it working around each other in the kitchen or snuggling up on the couch for a movie.

Suguru just misses him and some days he thinks all of this is not worth it.

He knows he can just tell Satoru the truth; Satoru is loaded enough that none of this would even make a dent and he would be willing to cover Suguru’s expenses, Suguru knows that.

But it doesn’t feel right.

He wants them to be equals, wants them to be able to stand next to each other and while Suguru is sure that Satoru still could do that, he knows himself well enough to know that he could never forget about the huge debt he owes Satoru.

And he doesn’t want this to poison his relationship with Satoru.

It’s not as if you’re going to have much of a relationship with him anymore, if things continue like that, a tiny voice says in the back of Suguru’s head and he hates how right it is.

He hasn’t talked to Satoru in almost a week. He barely has time to answer his texts and Suguru hates every second of it.

And it seems Satoru feels the same because when Suguru drags his exhausted self home, Satoru is waiting for him at the kitchen table.

It’s way past Satoru’s bedtime and immediately, Suguru feels guilty.

“Why are you still up?” he asks, even though he damn well knows why. It’s his fault.

He ignores the pang in his chest at finally seeing Satoru again and lets himself fall into one of the empty chairs. It feels as if his entire being aches; most of it is lack of sleep and over-working himself but a good part is also due to the distance to Satoru.

“Great question,” Satoru gives back and he sounds pissed. “Why are you never home anymore?” he then asks and he’s glaring at Suguru.

“I’m busy,” Suguru tells him and it’s not even a lie.

He’s so busy these days.

“Are you mad at me?” Satoru asks next and Suguru jerks at the question.

“No,” he rushes to reassure Satoru. “It has nothing to do with you. I’m just busy.”

“Why? It wasn’t like that before. What happened?”

Suguru knows that Satoru just wants to help, just wants to understand and it would be so easy to tell him, to take what he will no doubt offer and then finally be able to sleep for more than four hours at once again.

But Suguru’s pride won’t allow it.

“Nothing happened. Work just picked up and studies, too. That’s all. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I do, though. Suguru, you look like shit. I haven’t seen you in a week and you’re barely yourself anymore. You don’t text back, you’re never home and you don’t talk to me. Of course I worry.”

“It’s nothing,” Suguru whispers out, his eyes burning. He can’t keep looking at Satoru or he’s going to have a minor break down, he just knows it.

“It’s not nothing,” Satoru says with conviction and sometimes Suguru hates how incredibly persistent he can be. “I give you a week. If things don’t change by then, I will make you tell me what’s going on.”

It’s a promise but to Suguru it feels like a threat. There is no way he can manage to even his workload out enough to spend more time with Satoru and he damn well knows that if Satoru really puts his mind to it, he can force Suguru to tell him everything.

“Please don’t,” Suguru mutters but Satoru only gives him a hard glare.

“I miss you, Suguru,” Satoru says and Suguru’s heart aches.

“I miss you, too,” he admits, and at least that comes easy to him.

“Then talk to me,” Satoru implores him but Suguru shakes his head, causing Satoru to sigh. “Fine. A week then. Better have a convincing lie ready, if you don’t want me to know the truth.”

He leaves Suguru with that, lets the words fall around Suguru like heavy stones and the added weight barely even registers for Suguru. He’s spread too thin already; he can’t worry about this as well now.

He’ll just have to make up something on the spot in a week because he doesn’t doubt for a second that Satoru is going to keep his promise.

~*~*~

Suguru has been home exactly two times since his talk with Satoru and he has half a mind to simply not go home once the week he was given is up. But he knows Satoru well enough to know that he will track him down and Satoru will make sure they are having this talk, no matter where.

And Suguru would prefer it if it wasn’t in public.

So when the seven days are up, he does make his way back home. He knows Satoru will be there and waiting for him because he received a threatening message not even an hour ago.

Be home at 5pm sharp or else is all it says and since this is Satoru the or else could literally be anything.

And Suguru is not going to take that chance.

He still doesn’t know what he’s going to tell Satoru, doesn’t know how to lie to him convincingly—and never has, if he’s being honest—and he also doesn’t know how to explain in a way that won’t make Satoru incredibly angry.

This evening, Suguru can only lose.

This time Satoru is waiting for him on the couch and he doesn’t even say anything. He just waits for Suguru to sit down and then pierces him with the most searching gaze Suguru ever had the misfortune to be under and just like that, he breaks.

He has always been incredibly easy for Satoru.

“My parents think we are together,” is the first thing out of his mouth and Satoru isn’t quick enough to hide just how hurt he is by that, by the thought that Suguru is avoiding him to prevent rumors.

“They are not even here,” he hisses, though even his anger feels lacking. “Why are you trying so hard to disprove that?”

“It’s not like that,” Suguru says and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head. “They cut me off. It’s a convenient excuse for them; that and the fact that I’m studying instead of working like they think I should.”

“They cut you—is this about money?” Satoru almost yells out and now his anger seems so much more real.

“Yes,” Suguru simply says and he still doesn’t know how to explain this to Satoru.

Satoru never had to want for money in his life.

There is a long moment of silence.

“How many jobs are you working?” Satoru finally wants to know and Suguru closes his eyes.

He’s so tired.

“Two. Three shifts.”

“And your studies?”

“I have to maintain my grades for the scholarships I applied to.”

“You’re working yourself to the ground.”

Suguru can’t even refute that. He has lost even more weight this week and he fears at this point the eyebags will be permanent.

“Why not—“ Satoru starts before he scoots closer to Suguru’s side, gently pressing their knees together as if he’s checking if he’s still allowed.

Suguru presses back.

“I know this has occurred to you, but why not ask me?” Satoru quietly asks and Suguru shudders.

It would be so easy.

“I can’t,” he whispers out and feels like shit when Satoru takes the liberty to melt against his side.

His weight is familiar and something inside of Suguru that has ached for all this time finally relaxes.

“Why not?” Satoru’s voice matches his and Suguru’s eyes burn.

He’s not sure if it’s a lack of sleep or tears.

“I would always remember the debt I owe you. We both know I could never pay you back. I know you wouldn’t care,” Suguru says before Satoru can say it, “but I do. It would always hang over me. I don’t want that.”

“So you’d rather not see me at all anymore,” Satoru mutters, resting his head on Suguru’s shoulder. “Is that what you want? To not be in debt but—you’d lose me.”

“I hated every second of the last two weeks,” Suguru fervently whispers and grasps for Satoru’s hand. “I hated it. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anymore.”

The lack of sleep has not been helping with his ability to think clearly and the lack of Satoru in his life hasn’t made it easier, either. It’s almost as if he has been on withdrawal lately and he leans more heavily against Satoru.

He has to catch up on a lot of missed time.

“I know what to do,” Satoru says and there is confidence in his words but he moves away from Suguru.

Before Suguru can mourn the loss of warmth at his side, Satoru cups his cheek in his hand and turns his face so he’s looking straight at Satoru.

“I want an honest answer, Suguru,” Satoru demands and he only goes on when Suguru nods.

He can’t tear his eyes away from Satoru’s eyes. He almost forgot how blue they are.

“Do you love me?” Satoru asks him and Suguru’s breath catches in his chest.

Suguru knows what Satoru is asking; this is not about their friendship. This is about everything else, all the things they have never talked about and always just took for granted between them.

Still, the answer comes easy to Suguru, because nothing has been quite as true for him as this.

“Yes,” he simply says and Satoru nods as if he didn’t expect anything else.

“Marry me,” he says next and now that catches Suguru completely off guard.

“What?” he breathes out, because surely he must have misheard.

“Marry me,” Satoru repeats. “Be my husband. Let us share everything.”

It is everything Suguru never dared to imagine for himself but he can’t bring himself to agree like he so desperately wants.

Not if Satoru is only doing this for him.

“If you think you can trick me into saying yes so there won’t be debt between us, then you’re wrong,” he says, and his voice almost doesn’t shake. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll figure something out.”

“Suguru,” Satoru says and still, his gaze is just as piercing as before. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”

“Do I? It’s not as if you’ve said something about how you feel,” Suguru almost childishly gives back, but the lack of a confession from Satoru stings.

“I regularly tell you that you’re my one and only. Of course I love you. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

“Not true,” Suguru chokes out and now those are definitely tears. “You hated me then.”

“Because I knew how important you’d be to me and I was thrown off,” Satoru immediately replies and there is no doubt in his voice. “It’s always been you.”

“It’s always been you for me, too,” Suguru admits because even the thought of someone else being this important to him is laughable.

It has been Satoru and it always will be Satoru.

“Then marry me. Be my husband and let me share your burden for once. God knows you share enough of mine already.”

“I don’t mind. I never have,” Suguru promises him and his heart feels close to bursting when Satoru smiles at him. And he has missed this so fiercely that he just has to lean forward and taste the smile for himself.

“I know that you don’t mind,” Satoru says when they part. “And I won’t mind having to share this. Or anything else that might come up. As long as it’s you, I won’t mind anything.”

Suguru searches his face for a long moment, fearing to see any traces of doubt but there’s only conviction and love in Satoru’s eyes.

And so there is only one answer Suguru can give.

“Okay.”