#do i know when the box will reopen? nope!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

k i thiiiiink i'm gonna close my inbox for a Bit bc there is... so much in there... and more gets buried with each new ask & i Want to get to them all! but there are ninety-five (95!) asks in that box rn. and i know from experience that if i don't take care of it that number will build to ungodly levels, and then it'll get so overwhelming i won't be able to get myself to answer Any <3

[lieslab]

Skz finds you struggling with self-harm

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Genre: Angst & comfort/hurt

Word Count: 10.8k

A/N: This was a request and each member deals with a different type of behavior that can be considered a form of self-harm. To whoever requested this, I'm sorry for taking about a week. In a word document, this is about forty-five pages, so thank you for being patient while waiting. I hope you can find some comfort here <3

_ _ _

Bang Chan:

TW: Cigarettes and brief mention of cancer.

"What is this?" Chan gestured towards you. 

"What does it look like?" You grumbled with the end of the cigarette in the corner of your mouth. 

You ignored your boyfriend and kept glancing off into the darkened sky. You thought he was asleep as you stepped out onto your balcony, but apparently not. Either he wasn't asleep or you accidentally woke him up when you snuck out of your shared bed. 

He stayed quiet while he observed you. You ignored his heavy gaze and pretended he wasn't there. You adjusted the cigarette back to the middle of your mouth. The end glowed a warm orange while you inhaled another mouthful of the smoke. 

The oversized hoodie hung off your body. You threw it on hoping it'd catch the scent of nicotine instead of your pajamas. Silence hung over the two of you along with the stars. You didn't utter a word. Quite frankly, you didn't want to tell your boyfriend why you were outside on your balcony smoking a cigarette at 4am. 

It was almost like he could read your mind. You exhaled and the tendrils of smoke drifted off into the distance. Realizing this was his chance, Chan broke the silence.

"Do you wanna talk abo-" 

"Nope," you cut him off. 

He pressed his lips together trying to figure out what to say to you. He knew whatever you were going through was bad. You only turn to cigarettes when life seems unbearable. Too caught up in his own life, he hadn't realized you were struggling so much. Worry and guilt began to nip at him. 

He had shifted to wrap his arm around you in the bed, but you weren't there. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a barren bed and your silhouette outside on the balcony. He knew what you were doing the moment he opened the balcony door. He was instantly engulfed by the scent of tobacco. 

No wonder you tasted so much like peppermint lately. Chewing peppermint gum, one piece after the next. Showing up to his studio tasting like mouthwash. You brushed your teeth after you smoked. Swishing around mouthwash and chasing the mouth-burning liquid with more minty gum hoping it'd block out the scent. 

"Bad day?" He finally offered. 

You snickered, "more like a bad life." 

His heart squeezed in his chest at your remark. Surely, you didn't associate him with the bad part of your life, did you? Yeah, he was busy a lot because of his job, but what about the times you shared? Was it all bad? 

Sensing his worry, you changed your wording. 

"It's not a bad life, but things seem to be piling up lately. It's one thing after the next after the next. I purchase a pack of cigarettes and then the nicotine releases dopamine. I know it's bad, but it brings me a state of peace. Is it terrible to just want to relax for a while?" 

"No," he admitted after a few silent seconds. "It's not bad, but it's dangerous." 

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes. In the brazen moonlight, Chan could see everything. The full moon lit up every feature of your face. Seeing you like this beneath the soft glow, he wanted to smile, but your words twisted him with trepidation. 

"I know I should care," you reopened your eyes. You blinked trying to hide the tears building up. "But honestly, I really don't give a shit. It says right on the box that it can cause lung cancer. I already feel rotten enough on the inside, so maybe it's what I deserve." 

"Nobody deserves that." 

You stared down at the burning cigarette in your hand. Embers drifted into the darkness while others scattered onto the ground below. The rolled paper around the cigarette continued to burn. Your brain begged for you to take another hit of the nicotine, but now your heart was in turmoil. 

"You are an adult, you know. You're free to live your life as you wish. No matter what you choose to do, I can't stop you. However, as your significant other, I don't want to see you hurt." 

"I know," your voice came out weak. All those emotions you had been suppressing were coming up again. "Can I be honest?" 

"Of course, you can." 

"I hate the taste of them," you chuckled and dropped the cigarette. The heel of your shoe crushed it into the ground. Your fingers gripped the metal ledge of the fence around the balcony. 

Chan didn't utter a sound. 

"It's been going on for a while, unfortunately. For a month, at least, and I'm not sure if I can easily stop." You hung your hands together over the edge of the railing. 

"That's alright, you don't have to quit cold turkey. Maybe try to wean yourself off of them, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Tobacco stained your teeth. The soured flavor clung to your tongue. The scent draped over you like a heavy curtain.  You bit down on the inside of your cheek wondering how you were going to pull yourself away from the thing you spent the past month finding comfort in. 

"You don't have to do it alone," Chan spoke up again. "I'll be right here if you need me. You can talk to me whenever you need to." 

You nodded your head. 

"Do you want to discuss what made you turn to them in the first place?" 

"Not really." 

"Then we don't have to do that." He turned back to the moon and changed the topic. "The full moon is beautiful tonight. I don't remember the last time I've been able to stare at the moon like this." 

"It's nice." 

"Peaceful and quiet." 

You mumbled an agreement as a yawn left your mouth. 

"You wanna go back inside and get some more sleep?" 

"That sounds good." 

Not bothered by the scent, Chan walked over and put an arm around your shoulders. The two of you walked back into your bedroom. He locked the balcony door while you pulled off the hoodie you were wearing. You headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth. 

After climbing into the bed, you curled yourself up against your boyfriend, happy that you were able to find someone as patient and understanding as him. 

_ _ _

Lee Know:

TW: Using alcohol to cope with problems, depression, and self-hatred.

Lee Know was used to you occasionally drinking. You did it, he did it, and your friends did it. However, when he came home on the third day in a row to find you with a bottle of wine, his eyebrows furrowed. 

There you were curled up on your favorite spot on the couch. The large TV sat in front of you and you grinned while watching some raunchy romance show. His eyes scanned the area. A bowl of popcorn sat in your lap. A glass of wine was tucked into your hand. Too enthralled in your show, you didn't hear him come in. 

The bright screen lit up the transparent bottle to show that it was nearly gone. You just opened that bottle yesterday, so how was it gone already? He blinked in shock and stepped closer towards you. 

He snuck up behind you, without meaning to startle you, and stuck his hands on your shoulders. You let out a yelp and jumped. The popcorn bowl upturned and kernels and popcorn pieces scattered across the carpet. 

"Sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you." 

"Well, you did," you frowned and stared at the mess. You sighed, placed your glass on the coffee table in front of you, and began to stand up. The world seemed to tilt and you fell forward. 

"Woah!" Lee Know jerked forward, grabbed the back of your shirt from over the couch, and yanked you back to safety. 

You laughed as you plopped back down on the couch. Your boyfriend frowned at your reaction. If he wouldn't have caught you, you would have hit the coffee table. He kicked off his shoes and climbed over the edge of the couch. You giggled while he pulled you into his grasp. 

He leaned back comfortably against the arm of the couch. With you in his arms, he tugged you back against his chest. Your ear was pressed up against his heart. The gentle thrum soothed your soul. 

"How much alcohol have you had to drink today?" He began to run a hand through your hair. 

You half-shrugged on top of him. 

"One glass?" 

"More." 

"Two?"

"More." 

"Three?" 

"I don't know." 

"Four?" 

"Mmh, maybe." 

He paused and glanced back over to the bottle of the wine. Last night, it was nearly full, so you drank more than half of it. You were upping your alcohol content steadily. He frowned and stared back at you. You seemed okay the past few days, but clearly something was bothering you. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

"Do you ever hate yourself?" 

"Huh?" He was caught off-guard by your comment. 

"Do you ever hate yourself?" You repeated. "Lately, I've been feeling like I'm not a very good person." 

Lee Know kept watching you. You were pronouncing your words properly, so you must not have been too drunk. He glanced up at the analog clock stuck to the side wall. You were home before him in the early evenings. You had, at least, five hours to drink before he got home. 

"Why do you think that you're not a good person?" 

"I don't know." 

"There must be some reason." 

"I feel ugly!" You blurted out. "I feel gross and disgusting about myself. I look at myself in the mirror and I hate what I see. I've been sad and I haven't wanted to get out of bed. I have zero motivation to get out of bed or brush my teeth or do anything." 

"Oh?" 

"I feel icky inside and out. You tell me all the time that I'm beautiful. You're always there, but I'm not able to see myself like you are. Maybe I feel so gross because it's a struggle to get out of bed. I don't know, but the other day I had a glass of wine and it felt nice and then I had another and I felt okay again." 

"So you're using alcohol to attempt to cope?" There was a sadness in Lee Know's voice. 

"Uh-huh and you know what?" 

"What?" 

"It's working very well. I am so light and I feel so good. I feel like I can laugh again. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside." 

Lee Know tilted himself closer towards your face. He leaned over you and cupped your cheeks gently. You peeled open your eyes and met his. A goofy grin filled your face at the sudden closeness. 

"Whatcha doing?" 

"Don't I make you feel warm and fuzzy? Do I have to remind you?" 

"Of course, you make me feel that way! You give me butterflies. I love you so much, you don't even know. I can't put it into words how you make me feel." 

"So you're feeling bad about yourself?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"What if I gave you a kiss every time your brain said something bad about you? You stop drinking the wine and I'll replace it with kisses." 

His boba eyes stared intently into yours. You blinked in shock. It wasn't often that Lee Know was so touchy with you. He patiently waited for your answer and squished your cheeks a little more. A grin began to stretch across his face. He cooed and squished your cheeks more. You began to giggle at his antics. 

"Is that a yes?" 

"Uh-huh." 

He bent down and gave you a quick upside down kiss. Still tipsy, you squealed in delight. He puckered his lips and did it again. Pulling away, he rubbed your cheeks. "So how was it?" 

"I think I need another one." 

"Already?" He threw his head back and let out a dramatic groan. 

"You said if my brain was saying something bad!" 

"That's right, I did say that. So I must prevail in my efforts to comfort the love of my life. Pucker up and get ready for a love bombing." 

"A love wh-" 

Before you could finish, he leaned down and began placing kisses all over your face. Your laughter only added fuel to his fire. He kept going and going and going until he ran out of air panting. He threw himself back over the arm of the couch gasping for breath. 

"More!" You cried out. 

"More?" He threw his hands up. "You're just taking advantage of my love!" 

"Nuh-uh!" 

"Yeah-huh!" 

"Nuh-uh!" 

He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around you tightly, and squeezed your body. You wiggled, but your arms were pinned to your sides. You whined and squirmed, but you were no match for him. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Prison of love." He planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. "You're here until further notice." 

_ _ _

Changbin:

TW: Razors/razor blades, cutting, and self-hatred.

“They couldn’t have grown legs and walked away,” Changbin grumbled. He climbed further into the cabinet, beneath the bathroom sink, and pushed products aside. Dropped down on all fours, his torso was completely inside the darken and confined space. 

He was attempting to try and find a pack of his disposable razors, but he couldn’t find any of them. He swore he just bought another pack last week, but they were missing. He pushed aside backup bottles of body wash and shampoo. Diving further into conditioner and cotton balls, he dug back further, but to no avail. 

He pushed himself backwards and whacked his head on the top of the cabinet in the process. A loud groan left his mouth and it woke you up. In the room next door, you had fallen asleep early. Exhausted from another day at work, you were defeated by the time you came home. Within seconds of your body hitting the pillow, you were out. 

You blinked your bleary eyes and rubbed them wondering what was going on. Through the thin bathroom door, Changbin was mumbling. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he seemed to be upset about something. 

As you pushed yourself away from the tangled blankets, Changbin dived back beneath the cabinet to look again. He shoved the small basket of product to the side and when his razors weren’t in the very back, he jerked himself out again. A hand went to the porcelain sink to propel himself up. 

Crash! 

You stumbled over your feet worried that your boyfriend might have fallen. Picking up your pace, you knocked when you arrived at the door and called out to make sure Changbin was alright. Not hearing a response, you panicked even more. 

“I’m coming in,” you called out. 

When you stepped inside, you found a teary eyed Changbin staring at the floor. You stepped up beside him quickly wondering what was wrong. On the tile floor, lay the scattered remnants of the bathroom trash can. A shampoo bottle laid beside it. 

Right there on top? One of Changbin’s disposable razors was completely dismantled. Twisted blue plastic with a missing razor blade. You made sure to hide it deep within the trash can beneath the snotty tissues and makeup remover wipes. You didn’t take into consideration that the trash can might fall over. 

The pieces began to click together in your brain. You had been using Changbin’s razors for a while now. Prying apart the plastic and so desperate to feel something again. You found a friend in the cold metal blade. The stinging sensation somehow seemed to mend your internal wounds. 

Humiliation filled you and the guilt of it all crept in. You swallowed the lump in your throat as your own tears filled your eyes. You remained cemented to the floor unable to speak and unable to explain. There was nothing to explain anyways, Changbin knew what you were doing instantly. 

The two of you stayed silent. Changbin ran through your behavior the past few days in his head. You stopped wearing pajama shorts to bed, but fall had turned into winter. He didn’t question why you switched your clothes. When you didn’t want to be touched as much, he hadn’t questioned it. 

Boundaries and communication were so important to him. He knew not to cross them. The two of you were honest with each other constantly. It helped your relationship flow smoothly, it helped prevent arguments, and it left the two of you satisfied; but this? How long had you been keeping this a secret? 

“Why?” He finally got out. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was shaky as you spoke. You felt so small. So helpless. Rather, you let down one of the most important people in your life. Would he see you through the lens that you saw yourself? 

He turned around to face you. There was no hint of anger. His face wasn’t twisted and there wasn’t a scowl. Hurt was in his eyes. He reached out and cupped your face again. “Why are you doing this?” 

“I’ll replace your razors and I won’t do it again.” 

“But why?” His thumbs brushed against your cheeks to wipe away tears. “Why are you hurting yourself?” You blurred in his vision. 

You blinked rapidly trying to get the tears to stop. You didn’t want to admit you hated yourself. You didn’t admit you found comfort in the pain. You didn’t want to admit any of it. You were stuck at a crossroad. 

“Please talk to me.” He waited patiently for you to speak. When you didn’t, he pulled you into his burly arms. Warmth cocooned your body and cradled your soul. 

“I didn’t mean to start. I’ve struggled with it before, you already know that.” You sniffled and sucked in a deep breath. “It got bad again and I just wanted to self-soothe. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry for disappointing you.” 

He rubbed your back gently. Your head was tucked beneath his chin. His heartbeat walloped in his chest. “You didn’t disappoint me, you’re hurting inside. You have to learn how to be gentle with yourself, baby. You could never disappoint me.” 

More tears filled your eyes. They began to trickle down and soak his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. You let yourself be held by him. 

“You’re allowed to hurt and you’re allowed to be sad, but how about we try to do something else that doesn’t harm you? I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You don’t understand how precious your existence is to me. You mean everything to me.” 

A strangled sob came from the back of your throat. You broke down completely in his arms. He treated you with such tenderness and love, it made you cry harder. He soothed you quietly while he began listing some of your best qualities. 

You cried and cried and cried until you were completely defeated. Everything you had been holding back came up. Beneath your pajama pants, your thighs stung from the fabric brushing up against them. You tried to hide them. You forced yourself into your jeans. 

The fabric rubbed and created irritation. The water in the shower hurt. They always hurt. Just as old wounds began to itch and heal, you created new ones to remind yourself just how worthless you were. The cycle had started again and it’d continue until you stopped. 

Changbin spoke to you how a mother spoke to her newborn baby. Praising you for the smallest things. Dotting on you and gently rocking you side to side. They say a mother’s heartbeat comforts a baby in the wound. With you pressed up against and hearing Changbin’s heart through your sobs, maybe that’s why you felt comfortable enough to fall apart. 

When you finally finished sobbing, you were left breathless and exhausted. Changbin’s heartbeat continued to thrum. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you and Changbin planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” 

You didn’t object as he picked you up and carried you back to your shared room. Concerned about your well-being still laced him. No matter how much he wanted to continue talking about it, you needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow, he’d help you come up with a better plan to cope, but for now, he’d be by your side until you woke up again. 

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

TW: Skin picking, hair pulling, anxiety, and blood.

You didn’t realize Hyunjin moved from his spot until you felt his hand gently cup your wrist. You glanced down with confusion etched onto your face. He gave you a reassuring smile before he spoke. “You’re doing it again.” 

You glanced down with a frown. Sure enough, you were doing it again without realizing it. Lost in your overwhelming thoughts, you began to pick at the scratch on your arm. Your sharpened nails plucked at the skin. The darkened red bits of healing wounds were reopened. A fresh trail of trickling blood steadily streaked down your arm. 

“Ah, shit.” 

You stood up and mumbled an apology. In the bathroom, you began washing your hands in the bathroom sink, so you could address the problem. Out in the kitchen, Hyunjin was doing the same thing. With hands still damp from hastily drying them with the kitchen towel, he walked into the bathroom and gently tugged your wrist again. 

The uncomfortable feeling of humiliation crept inside as Hyunjin observed your bleeding arm. Lately, you found yourself doing things without even realizing it. Digging your nails along your skin and creating scratches. Gnawing at the sides of your nails and ripping off perfectly healthy skin. 

A few days ago, you began to pluck at the end of your eyebrow. You didn’t realize it until Hyunjin came home and pointed it out. On the side of your head, beneath a top layer of hair, there was a bald patch growing back. It never really registered what you were doing until it was too late. 

Wound tight with anxiety, you floated away from reality and let yourself meander a river of worry. Your fingers moved without realizing it. Your body was desperate to soothe itself even when you were consciously away from the driver’s seat of your brain. 

Hyunjin didn’t mind pointing it out. He knew how you could be and if anything, he was happy he could get you to stop. Pulling you out of that cloudy blank daze and helping bring you back to reality. He was careful with every movement. He didn’t want to startle or injure you more. 

“You really don’t have to do this,” you mumbled. 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” 

You stayed silent and let him rinse the blood off your arm. You watched him clean up, disinfect, and bandage the scratch on your forearm. It had been healing for the past few days. The other day, you dug your nails into the delicate skin. When you scraped your nails down, your skin came with it. Pulled from your thoughts by the feeling of warm blood beneath your fingers, you realized you had injured yourself yet again.

You knew it was nothing to be ashamed of. Hyunjin was a constant reminder of that. There was no judgment from him whatsoever. However, every time he caught you doing it, you felt like a child upsetting a parent. He hadn’t made it known that he was annoyed with your behavior, but you were sure he felt that way deep down. 

The thought nagged at you while he threw the last bits of band-aid paper into the trash can. He hummed softly beneath his breath and washed his hands like it wasn’t a big deal. Suds filled his hands and the scent of citrus hit your nose. 

“Why are you never mad at me?” You finally snapped. You didn’t mean for it to come off so snarky, but you didn’t understand why he was so cool, calm, and collected about your behavior. In your head, it was inexcusable. 

“Why would I be?” He asked cooly. His face remained neutral and he dried his hands on a hand towel. 

“Aren’t you annoyed or angry or, I don’t know, upset maybe? Sometimes I’m aware I do it, but I continue doing it. I don’t care if it hurts. It just….I don’t know!” You threw up your hands exasperated. “Why are you so okay with it?” 

Hyunjin eyed you for a moment. You still couldn’t read his thoughts. He kept his face neutral until he cocked his head to the side. “What if it was me?” 

“Huh?” 

“If I did what you did. If I picked and plucked and tore and scraped and scratched; would you be annoyed or upset?” 

“No!” Your head shook frantically. “Of course, I wouldn’t be like that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’re you. I love you and you deserve compassion. I’d never want you to feel like you were doing something wrong and I-” You paused for a moment. “Oh.” 

The side of Hyunjin’s lips tugged into the start of a smile. “Yeah, exactly. Do I think you should do it? No, but I understand why you’re doing it.” 

“I don’t know how to stop,” you finally admitted. 

“I was doing some research the other day and they said it helps if you wear gloves. However, I know that’s not always a possibility because you hate gloves. There was another article I found about keeping your hands busy.” 

“So like a stress ball?” 

“That’s one option, but I was thinking of something else.” He laced his fingers through yours and began to pull you away from the bathroom. “You know how you always like my art? You’re always wishing you could create art as well as I do?” 

“Yeah.” 

He pulled you into your bedroom and retrieved a plastic bag from beneath the bed. He handed it to you and let you open it. You stared at it cautiously and then glanced up at him. 

“Go ahead and open it. It’s not going to hurt you or anything. Come on,” he grinned, “you’ll love it.” 

You stuck your hand inside and began to pull out objects. A sketchpad was followed by a bright pink eraser and a pack of fancy pencils Hyunjin always used to create sketches. He beamed when a smile appeared on your face. 

“You got these for me?” 

“You’ve been wanting to do art for a while now. I can help teach you and I created a YouTube video playlist of videos I first watched when I created art. When I’m not around, you’ll be able to watch them and learn.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off. 

“I know it might not help entirely, but it’s a good distraction. If you start this and don’t like it, I’ve been talking to Felix. He sent over some of the recipes he makes a lot. Maybe you could give baking a shot?” He offered. 

Tears began to fill your eyes from the warmth that fluttered through your heart. 

“What?” His face fell. “Do you not like this? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He rushed towards you and began to wipe away your tears. “I don’t want to seem overbearing and like I’m trying to fix you. That’s not what I’m trying to do, I swear! I-I just want to help you.” 

You laughed at his distress. He paused upon seeing your reaction. You sniffled and shook your head. Pulling away, you began to speak. 

“I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m not sad, I’m so happy. You didn’t have to do all this for me. I’m so grateful and I feel so overwhelmed.” 

“So they’re happy tears?” 

You nodded and laughed again. More tears streamed down your cheeks. A smile began to grow on Hyunjin’s face again. 

“Thank you for caring about me.” 

“I’ll always care about you.” He leaned over and wrapped his arms around you. “I’ll do anything to see you happy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

_ _ _

Han:

TW: Gambling and gambling addiction.

The question sat unspoken on your tongue. You knew what you were doing was wrong and yet you couldn’t stop yourself. You shifted in your spot on the couch for a fourth time trying to gather up the courage to ask. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes were glued to the latest anime the two of you had been watching. He was clueless about your antics. You sucked in a deep breath and called out his name. When he didn’t respond, you called his name a little louder. 

He snapped his head towards you with his big eyes and round cheeks. Even without meaning to, your boyfriend was attractive. You pushed away the thought and focused back on the task at hand. 

“Can I ask for a favor?” 

“What kind of favor?” 

In the background, the characters in the anime continued fighting each other. Brightly colored hair flung around and over dramatic sound effects whirled. Fists flew and bodies bucked. Screams of despair from the hero and bouts of anger from the villain continued.

The anime reminded you of yourself. You were the hero and you were the villain. Always flipping back and forth between the two, a switch toggled, but it never flipped fully. You were reckless with life decisions. Messy without thinking things through. Acting in the heat of the moment without thinking about the effects. 

“Can I borrow five-hundred dollars?” 

“Huh?” Han’s eyes widened in shock. “Five…hundred? What? Why?” 

Your eyes met the ground. You felt pathetic. Your form of self-harm wasn’t physically damaging your body. You didn’t turn to substances to cope with things. You threw yourself into gambling instead. Every paycheck, you went through money like water. You were a pro at self-sabotaging.  

You managed to keep just enough to make ends meet and then you’d blow the rest of it. Chasing the high of winning, you didn’t know how to stop. The worst part? You were pretty decent at it. Whether it was making bets with your friends about small things or feeding freshly dispensed ATM cash into slot machines at the casino, you were good. 

Lately, you had been on a winning streak. The cash was pooling in. Over and over again you won and each time, the dopamine rush was more intense than the last. You were seeing green, at least, until greed brought you to your knees. 

You bet everything in the heat of the moment. You bet it all and within a few seconds, you lost everything. It was there and then it was gone. Even worse, you realized you hadn’t put the money aside for your half of the rent. You were royally fucked and with no more money to bet to try and make some of it back, you were screwed. 

You didn’t leave the casino giddy with excitement. You didn’t sprint to the front desk to redeem your money from the ticket in your hand happily. You didn’t relish the fresh air outside with loaded pockets feeling unstoppable. You left with tears in your eyes and humiliation coursing through your veins. 

“Five-hundred?” Han repeated again, completely baffled. He reached over, paused the show, and sat up. “Baby, why do you need five-hundred dollars? Did something happen?” 

You could have lied. You could have said something went wrong with the payroll at work. You could have said the system broke and your paycheck would be delayed. You could have pretended your bank account was hacked. As you ran through the lies in your head, they made you feel even more grimy and worthless. 

Heart taught with distress, you squeezed your eyes shut and balled your hands into fists. Your nails dug into your palms. This was your fault. You did this. You made your bed and now you’d have to lie in it. 

“I really fucked up,” you finally admitted. You stayed silent for a few moments. You weren’t sure how Han would react to your admission of guilt. You let out a sigh before you opened your eyes and spoke again. “I think I have a problem.” 

“What kind of problem?” Han stretched forward. He laid down on his stomach and tucked his palms beneath his head. He tilted his head up to stare at you from his position. “Anything I can help with?” 

“I might have gambled all my money away.” 

“You what?” 

“I know it sounds bad.” You were sheepish to speak. “I forgot to set aside rent money. I know it’s no excuse, but it left my mind.” 

Han stared at you without a word. You were too afraid to glance over at him. Your eyes never left the floor. 

“So the five-hundred dollars is to cover my half of the rent. I promise I’ll pay you back!” You peeked over at him. Eyes filled with desperation, you hoped he’d understand. “I don’t like asking you for assistance, but our landlord won’t budge on the rent being due at the end of this week and I don’t get paid until next week.” 

“Did you just start this or…” He trailed off. 

“It’s been happening for a few months. When I hang out with my friends, we go to the casinos and stuff. It was really fun and before I knew it, I was hooked on it. I couldn’t stop it no matter how hard I tried.” 

“Of course, I’ll cover your part of the rent.” 

Relief filled your veins. 

“But.” 

“But?” 

“But it sounds like this is a big issue. This was a pretty big incident that happened to you. What would happen if this occurs again and there’s nobody there to help you?” 

You frowned and shifted once more uncomfortably beneath the weight of his gaze. “Honestly, I never really thought about it. I think I might be obsessed with it. I live for the feeling of being a winner.” 

“Don’t you think you should stop before you become a loser?” 

Your face fell at his words. He scooted closer to you and scooped you up to his chest. You could barely breathe as his arms constricted around you. 

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, but this is concerning. I care about you and I don’t want to see you lose everything. Do you understand where I’m coming from?” 

You weakly nodded your head. He clutched to you tightly in the silence. The anime was still paused in the background. A fist froze in mid-air as it was ready to slam into the villain who stood with wide eyes of terror. His fingers found the ends of your hair and he began to twirl his fingers around it. 

“Han?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. I’ve been doing it for a while now. I thought I’d be able to give it up, but it’s like an itch that won’t go away.” 

He paused for a moment before he hummed. His tongue clicked while he thought about the situation. His fingers lazily tapped along your spine. You laid with your head on his chest. He sat sideways on the couch while he held you. 

“I’ve heard that there are some therapists that specialize in therapy for gambling addicts.” 

The air was knocked from your lungs. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You stiffened in his arms at the words. Shame filled you once more. That’s exactly what you were, you were an addict. This whole time you were afraid to label it, but that’s what it was. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I feel pathetic.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” Han clutched you tighter. “A lot of people struggle with addictions. It doesn’t mean you’re worth any less to me. If anything, I’m proud of you for coming to me with this problem. They say the first step is admitting you have a problem and you’re right there.” 

“Your addiction doesn’t define you,” he continued. “We all struggle with a lot of different things. It can come in different varieties and all shapes and sizes. You don’t have to be ashamed of something that’s so normal.” 

“I don’t think this is normal.” 

“Not for everyone, no. However, I’m sure there’s thousands of people out there just like you. Some people are in denial and don’t want to admit it. Others are afraid and some feel like they have nobody to turn to. Everyone has their reasons and I’m sure you have yours.” 

His words wrapped around you like a safety net. They eased some of your anxiety about the whole situation. You mumbled an apology for everything and he reassured you that it’d be okay. He stared at you with such love and admiration, even when you weren’t paying attention to it. 

“So how about we finish our anime and we can figure everything out after this episode?” 

“You want to see who wins the battle, don’t you?” A smirk began to appear on your face. 

“Maybe just a little.” 

“You might want to watch, at least, the next two episodes.” 

“You already know what happens?” 

“Nope, I’m just betting on the fight being cut early and something dramatic happening.” 

He stared at you unamused and despite the situation that had bloomed due to your actions, all you could do was laugh at your own word-play. 

_ _ _

Felix:

TW: Overworking, caffeine addiction, and anxiety.

A frown filled Felix’s face when he laid his eyes upon you. He arrived home late tonight due to a few extra late dance practices. He expected to find you asleep in your bed, but instead you were hunched over your desk in the pitch black. 

The bright light of your laptop illuminated your face while your fingers moved over the keys. Your eyes were narrowed and you were stuck in a trance. Beside you, three empty energy drinks sat. A fourth was directly beside you and half drank. 

This morning, there weren’t any on the desk. He made sure of that because he removed them and tossed them into the recycling bin after you left for work. He ventured further into the room, let his bag fall towards the ground, and began to speak. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” 

He was met by the sound of you typing. The white light from your laptop highlighted the deep bags from beneath your eyes. You felt like your brain was melting, but the high caffeine content kept you going. You weren’t behind on work, in fact, you were ahead of everything. 

You worked a normal nine to five and then came home and worked some more. Sometimes your line of work required you to do extra work at home and sometimes you just wanted to work ahead. Felix often tried to get you to lay off overworking yourself, but you never listened. 

You had been like this for the past two weeks. You barely ate and slept. You were always hunched over your laptop. Emailing coworkers and upper management. Passing and trading reports back and forth. Filing and submitting different claims. Making phone calls, so on, and so forth. 

Felix’s shoulders slumped when you didn’t respond. Just looking at the purple bags looming beneath your eyes made him tired. He let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes. 

“Baby, come on. You can finish this in the morning. You’ve been working all day and you need to get some sleep.” 

You blinked upon hearing the voice and briefly glanced over at your boyfriend. His eyes were half closed with sleepiness. It was past one in the morning. You gazed down at the clock on your screen. 

“Go ahead and get in bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just let me finish up this report real quick.” You went back to your screen and continued to type. 

Felix let out a sigh, but went about his evening routine. He slipped into pajamas, completed his skincare routine, brushed his teeth, and slipped into the bed. It was cold without the warmth of your body. His head slumped against the pillow defeatedly and he waited for you. 

And he waited and he waited and then he waited some more. He tossed to one side and then the other. He tried to lay on his back and then he tried to sleep on his stomach. Haunted by the quick pecking of your laptop keyboard, he couldn’t get himself to sleep. 

He huffed slightly annoyed, shoved the blankets away from his legs, and he sat up. “Baby, are you coming to bed? You said you’d only take a few more minutes.” He glanced over at the clock beside him. “It’s been nearly a half hour since then.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there soon,” you responded absentmindedly. Your eyes were bloodshot and your spine ached. You tilted your neck to the side and small pops sounded. Ignoring them, you took another sip of your energy drink, and went back to typing. 

Felix’s eyes narrowed and daggers hit your back. His arms crossed over his chest. You were unaware as you continued typing on your laptop. After nearly another minute of silence, he finally shoved himself up. 

Unbeknownst to you, he left your bedroom and headed for the living room. He wasted no time shutting off the internet router box and slipped back into your bedroom without a sound. It didn’t take long until you frantically clicked your mouse and let out a groan. 

“Something wrong?” 

“The internet went out in the middle of my report!” 

“That sucks.” His voice held no sympathy. “We’ll figure it out in the morning. Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

You grumbled, but eventually shut your laptop and climbed into the bed. Happily, he curled up into the bed beside you and buried his head into your chest. It didn’t take long before he fell asleep due to exhaustion, but you couldn’t. 

The caffeine had you wired. You were wound up and didn’t want to sit still. You laid there for a while to make sure Felix was fully asleep. Once you were sure he was out, you slipped out of bed and ventured out into the living room. You reset the router and within minutes, you were back online. 

Nearly an hour later, Felix was well aware that you weren’t there. He woke up and reached out to cuddle you, but you were gone. He sat up wondering where you were. Upon realizing you weren’t in the bedroom, he went out to look for you. 

That’s when he found you in the living room with two more energy drinks beside you. You were sipping a third one. Felix was flabbergasted at your behavior. How much caffeine was cruising through your veins? 

“Baby?” 

You stopped typing and glanced up to face your boyfriend. You paused and meekly smiled at his sudden appearance. “Hi?” 

His arms crossed over his chest and your heart sunk. He stared at you without a word. You slowly put down the energy drink on the coffee table. 

“Do you have a death wish?” 

“What?” 

“Do you have a death wish?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“How many energy drinks have you had today?” 

“I-” You paused to think about his question. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“Felix, it’s not that big of a deal. I always drink energy drinks. Calm down and go back to bed. I’ll be there soon, I promise.” 

“No. Put your laptop down and let’s go. You’re going to bed. Do you know how many days this has happened? Multiple.” 

“You’re being irrational!” Your voice started to rise. “Stop being so fucking dramatic! God, they’re just energy drinks, Felix! It’s not like they’re going to kill me!” 

“Are you hearing yourself?” 

You rubbed your sleepy eyes and let out an annoyed groan. “Can’t you just leave me alone? Why do you care so much? I’m doing my job!” 

“Part of your job is to take care of yourself as a person! When was the last time you got eight hours of sleep? When was the last time you had a decent meal?” His voice began to crack. Tears started to fill his eyes. “When was the last time you were happy and not slung over your computer?” 

You felt like you had been slapped in the face by his words. Your mouth went dry, almost like you inhaled a mouthful of sand. You wanted to say something back, but there was nothing you could use to justify yourself. 

“Why don’t you care about yourself the way I care about you?” His bottom lip quivered. “You’re always telling me to take care of myself. You’re always making sure I’m not overworking myself, but what about you? I don’t want you to die.” 

Tears trickled down his freckled cheeks. He hadn’t meant to cry, but he was frustrated. Why couldn’t you see yourself like he could? Why didn’t you care? Why weren’t you listening to him? 

“Felix,” your voice came out softer. 

He shook his head and blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears. “I’m going back to bed. You can just stay here sipping your energy drinks and overworking yourself. When you collapse with a heart attack, don’t come crying to me.” He stormed back towards your room upset with your behavior. 

The slam of your bedroom door caused you to jump. You looked down at the energy drinks you were consuming and guilt began to fill you. He was right. He was right about all of it. You were absolutely miserable. 

The caffeine made you shaky and it spiked your anxiety. You were so dependent on it, if you didn’t have any, you started to develop a throbbing headache. You became aware of your heart rapidly beating in your chest. How much longer could you keep up this behavior before it burst? 

With a sigh, you shut your laptop and pushed it onto the coffee table. You walked back to the room you shared with Felix. Shame filled you once more. Quietly, you opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. 

Felix was turned away from your side of the bed. He was facing the wall with his arms still crossed over his chest. Silent tears flooded down his cheeks still. You weren’t sure if he was awake or not, so you softly called his name. 

“What?” His voice wasn’t angry anymore. He was completely defeated. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t realize my behavior was upsetting you so much. I didn’t think it was making you worry. I’m sorry for yelling at you. You didn’t deserve that at all.”  

There was silence for a while until he spoke again. “I’ll always worry about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Part of our relationship is to look out for one another.” 

You padded over and slipped beneath the covers. Once he felt the bed stop shifting, he spun around so he could face you. The dim light from a nearby lamp caused a soft yellow glow to overcast. There were tears still in his eyes. They were smeared along his cheeks. 

Your heart hurt at the sight of him. He moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. He mumbled into your skin and the vibrations caused tingles to run through you.

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, I swear. I sent an email to my boss and told her I wouldn’t be there tomorrow. You have the day off, right?”

“Mmhm.” 

“Let’s spend the day together, yeah?” 

He pulled away from you. His eyes sparkled as they met yours. “Really?” 

You nodded your head before you leaned over and kissed his cheek. A rosy blush dusted the tops of them. “You wanna help me get rid of my energy drink stash tomorrow?” 

“You have a stash?” 

“I always have a stash.” 

“You’re not gonna get mad?” 

“No. You’re right, I need to stop. I kinda feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. It’s beating so fast right now.” 

“Or maybe that’s just because I’m here.” A cheesy grin filled his face. He leaned up and kissed your cheek this time. 

“Yeah, maybe it’s just because you’re here.” 

He snuggled back down into the crook of your neck. You let out a soft sigh at his warmth. It didn’t take long until you both fell asleep tangled around each other. 

_ _ _

Seungmin:

TW: Starvation, disordered eating, binging, and poor self esteem/body image.

Seungmin chewed his instant noodles peacefully across from you. With a fork in one hand and his phone in the other, he was content while scrolling through social media. On the other side of the table, you sipped your glass of ice water and did the same. 

The only difference was that you did not have instant noodles in front of you. You sat up straight at the kitchen table with your fingers digging into your plastic cup. Condensation pooled against your fingers and left a ring along the wood. You scrolled through your social media too. 

The scent of beef broth filled your nostrils. Your empty stomach twisted and contorted. It rumbled for the third time. You shifted in your chair and continued scrolling through your phone. Your fingers paled as you dug them into your cup tighter. 

You silently salivated in your seat. The things you’d do to have a single bite of your boyfriend’s noodles; the warmth of flavorful sodium filled broth lining your stomach. Your teeth bit down onto your bottom lip once again. 

The feeling of hunger was sharp and dull. Your stomach searched for food, but it had nothing. The feeling of cold water pooling in the bottom of your stomach filled you with a sense of pride. You were starving, yeah, but you had self control. In your brain, this was a win. 

When your stomach roared again, Seungmin glanced over the top of his phone. He eyed you suspiciously. Lately, you seemed to be pushing away food. He didn’t talk about it much because he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

After all, he had been on his own fair share of diets. He knew they could be difficult, but you never mentioned a diet. In fact, he hadn’t seen you eat anything recently. Realizing this, a frown filled his face. 

You glanced up at the feeling of eyes on you. When your eyes met Seungmin’s, you raised an eyebrow. He copied your expression without a word. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked. 

Your eyes went back down to the instant noodles. He picked up another forkful of them. Noodles snaked through the fork prongs and dripped with broth. You pulled your eyes away and shook your head. Your eyes went back to your phone and you swallowed another mouthful of cold water. 

He glanced at his noodles and then back to you. Down to his noodles and back to you. When your stomach cried out again, his eyes went back to you for a final time. This time he blurted it out without warning. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Bullshit. Your stomach has been roaring like a lion for the past five minutes. You’re starving, so why aren’t you eating?” You kept your eyes secured to your phone. “Talk to me, babe.” 

You didn’t dare take your eyes off the phone. You didn’t put it down because you were too afraid you’d spill and that’d ruin everything. You gave a slight head shake and went back to scrolling. 

Seungmin sighed, got up, and began rummaging through the cupboards. You watched with curious eyes while he pulled out another cup of instant ramen. You tried to ignore him, but when he added hot water, the smell of beef broth caused your stomach to rumble once more. 

You cursed beneath your breath and set your phone down. As you pushed yourself back, the wooden legs of your chair scraped against the ground. Seungmin turned around, alerted by the noise, to find you leaving the room. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“To the bedroom.” 

“No you’re not. Get back here and sit down. We’re going to have a conversation about why you’re not eating. Sit your ass in the chair.” 

“But I-” 

“No. Sit down and shut up.” He placed the cup of noodles in the spot where you were sitting. His eyes narrowed while he stared at you. 

You wanted to turn around and ignore him. When Seungmin made up his mind, he made up his mind. There was no use in running away from the problem. He’d hunt you down and figure out the root of the problem anyway. 

You sighed and sat back down. He pushed a fork over to you and plopped down in his own seat. You stared down at the cup of noodles and your mind began to wander. 

How many calories were in it? How much sodium? What if this single cup of noodles caused you to lose control? What if this single meal caused you to spiral into a binge? On and on your internal thoughts went and Seungmin had no idea. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” 

“I’m not hungry,” you repeated. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited in silence for your real answer. You bit down on the inside of your cheek. You shifted beneath his eyes again. He knew exactly how to make you squirm. 

“I don’t feel like I deserve to eat,” you meekly admitted. You didn’t meet his eyes. You kept staring at the steam rising from the cup of noodles. 

“Why not?” 

You shrugged, but then continued anyway. “I feel like I deserved to be punished for not being good enough.” Your fingers played with the ends of your hoodie sleeves. 

“Not good enough? What do you mean you’re not good enough? What are you talking about?” 

“I could be better. My body isn’t in the best shape right now. It’s a simple way to lose weight. Honestly, I kind of like the feeling of starving. It makes me feel strangely powerful.” 

“But you have to eat.” He leaned forward and reached his hand out. He was gentle as he cupped his hand over yours. “How are you going to have the strength to get through your days without food?”

You shrugged your shoulders again. It felt pathetic when you said it out loud. Your stomach continued rumbling. The scent of beef broth was overwhelming now that it was closer. 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“It just started this week.” 

Seungmin stared at you wondering how he could help you. He knew about eating disorders, but he didn’t know how to help you. The answer seemed so simple to him, but your brain wasn’t wired like his was. 

Food was not fuel for you, it was a daily challenge; a struggle. A battle of binging and starvation. Something you loved and loathed at the exact same time. It was gluttony, but perfection; a twisted combination of the two. You never seemed to find middle ground. 

“That notebook that you’ve been writing in recently in our bedroom. You’ve been counting calories, haven’t you?” 

You didn’t have to respond. Seungmin already knew the answer. A frown filled his face. The noodles were beginning to lose their warmth. 

“Do you trust me?” He suddenly asked. 

“Of course, I trust you. What kind of question is that? I’m dating you, obviously I trust you.” 

“Can I make you food from now on? Not every meal, but just one a day, so I know you’re eating something. It’d make me feel better.” 

Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t want to agree, but you also didn’t want this to spiral out of control and funnel into something you lost yourself completely to. The question weighed heavily on your mind. He was asking you to give up control to the one thing that you could control.

“Can we try it for one day?” His voice softened. “One day and if you don’t like it, we can figure out something else.” 

You finally nodded your head slowly. Your eyes wandered down to the fork beside you. You let out a soft sigh before you picked it up, twisted it into the cup of noodles, and took a bite. Flavor exploded on your tongue. You relished the taste with closed eyes. 

“How is it?” 

“It’s really good.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t decide to poison it then.” 

“Seungmin!” 

He let out a laugh and sat back. A small smile appeared on your face. He kept you busy with conversation, so your mind couldn’t go back to focusing on your food. Eventually, you managed to eat half of them before you pushed them away. Seungmin allowed it without complaint. 

“Whoops, I think you got something here.” He leaned across the table and began to reach for your shirt. 

You looked down to see what it was, but before you could see, he reached up and flicked the end of your nose. 

You let out a yelp and pulled away. Shooting him a glare, he could only laugh in amusement. He always knew how to keep you on your toes. 

_ _ _

I.N:

TW: Doom scrolling and self-isolation.

The world was on fire. Maybe not physically, but that’s what it felt like. You had fallen into the toxic cycle of doom scrolling again. Climate change, war, protests, violence, politics, upcoming elections, riots, and death. You flipped through your TikTok page and soaked it up like a sponge. 

Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. 

The algorithm was a little too good at its job. The moment you began liking content about one issue, more videos appeared. Soon there was another and another and another until your TikTok page was a manifesto of doom and gloom. 

The memes went away. The animal videos went away. The videos about your hobbies and interests went away. The videos from your favorite creators went away. Even videos about your boyfriend’s band disappeared. 

The more you scrolled, the worse you felt. How could you live at a time like this? A time when the world was flooded with such chaos. Man made disasters, disease outbreaks, deadly weather events, and crime. Murders, shootings, stabbings, kidnappings, and so on. Another child dead, another place shot up, and another country suffering. 

How could you not be sad? How could you not live with depression? How were you supposed to go on living with the realization that there was so much suffering? Why weren’t people nicer? Why are humans cruel to one another? When did humans lose their humanity? 

Eventually, you turned off your phone and let it fall onto the side of the bed. Tears filled your eyes when you rethought about it. So many stories about higher powers out there. Ancient gods and goddesses, magnificent unearthly creators passed down from generation to generation, and yet suffering still existed. Why? 

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it wasn’t working. You reached a hand from beneath your warm blanket and wiped away your tears. You felt guilty for feeling so upset about everything. You should have been thankful that you were able to live the life you lived, but you still felt conflicted about the extent of suffering. None of it was fair. 

I.N let himself into the apartment he shared with you. He kicked off his shoes and let out a sigh of relief glad to be home. He knew you weren’t home tonight and you probably wouldn’t be home for a while. You told him you were going out with friends earlier. 

Lately, you seemed a little down, so he was happy you were finally getting back out there. You loved your friends dearly and they loved you. Besides, you could use a bit of cheering up. 

He hummed to himself and moved throughout the house. He walked directly into the bedroom ready to shower and dress in comfortable pajamas. All of his plans crashed when he heard sniffling as he opened the door. He flipped on the light and there you were curled into a ball in your bed. You squeezed your eyes shut at the bright lights.

“Sorry about that, baby.” He flipped the main switch back off and flipped on the closet light instead. The too bright white light disappeared and was replaced with a softer lighting. “I thought you were going out to hang out with your friends.” 

“I was going to, but I called off.” Your voice wobbled slightly. You sniffled again and pawed at your eyes. 

Upon seeing your teary eyes, he walked over and slipped into the bed beside you. He pulled the covers away from you and tucked himself right beside you. You wanted to cry at his actions, but you managed to keep your tears back. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at work or something? Did one of your friends say something?” He studied your face with concern. 

You shook your head and sniffled again. “Do you ever just realize how bad everything is in the world? There’s so much death and destruction.” Tears filled your eyes once more. “How are we supposed to deal with it?” 

He knew what you were talking about instantly. You did this sometimes. Sometimes he caught you doom scrolling and stopped you. He often distracted you from it with things like your Nintendo Switches or TV shows. You must have started doom scrolling when he was away. 

“The ice is melting in Antarctica and the polar bears…” You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence, as your bottom lip quivered. 

You wore your heart on your sleeve. Empathy was a bittersweet thing for you. You were born with too much of it and you didn’t know how to turn it off. Your heart went out to everyone and everything. Even in the cruelest people, you were able to find empathy in them. 

I.N pulled you into his arms and wrapped them around your torso. You buried your head into his chest. He gently rubbed a hand along your back. 

“You know, animals are very good at adapting to a variety of situations. A lot of them are more intelligent than we realize. I’m sure the polar bears are the same way.” 

That was the thing about Jeongin. He never belittled you for being empathetic. He never called you too sensitive or a crybaby. He didn’t brush away your concerns about things. He listened to your rambles patiently and tried his best to help alter and adjust the way you viewed things. 

You didn’t like your empathy, but he thought it was a gift. You thought about things that he didn’t. You looked at the world with such kindness and compassion. You could easily befriend a stranger if you wanted to. You provided him with a different outlook on life. 

“It’s all so sad. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why are we letting people suffer?” 

“I wish I knew why, but I don’t know. Unfortunately, life isn’t fair to everyone. It really sucks, huh?” 

“I hate it,” you grumbled. “I hate being stuck here and not being able to do anything about it.” A sigh escaped your lips. 

“What happened with your friends?” 

“I called off. I felt worthless, so I told them I wasn’t feeling good. I didn’t want to tell them what was really bothering me.” 

“Why don’t you go hang out with them? I’m sure they want to see you. You said they’ve been texting you about how much they miss you recently. I’m sure it’d be a good distraction for you.” 

“You’re right, but I don’t know. They’re already hanging out and they think I’m sick. I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“You could tell them you’re feeling better.” His fingers found your hair and began playing with it. He enjoyed the feathery feeling between his fingers. 

“Can you come with me?” 

“Do you want that?” 

“Honestly, yeah. We haven’t been anywhere recently. They’ve been asking about you too.” 

“I’d be happy to tag along. Where are they? Dinner or something?” 

You pushed yourself up off his lap. “They’re actually bowling right now.” Feeling a bit better, you stood up from the bed. The previous thoughts of earlier were in the back of your head now. 

“Have you ever bowled before?” 

“Maybe.” 

“You’re not going to tell me?” 

“If I say yes, you’ll know I’ve had an advantage. If I say no, then you’ll know I haven’t, so the answer is maybe.” 

“I’m gonna beat you.” 

“No, you’re not!” 

“The loser gets to let the other person pick out their outfits for a week, deal?” I.N asked. 

“You’re on!” You rushed out the bedroom door. You sprinted towards the hall to grab your shoes from the sneaker shelf. “Let’s go!” 

I.N smiled to himself as he went after you. He might not have done much, but, at least, he could help distract you from everything on your mind. He put on his shoes and hurried to follow you out the door. 

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Taglist: @fairytaleskiess

Masterlist

[nabwastaken]

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🧔 timsdaddyhouston Follow

So a couple years after the.. 'accident' I got my car fixed at my buddy's repair shop and now it's talking to me? And telling me she's my dead wife? @tonygreensbodyshop do you know anything about this?

🔧 tonygreensbodyshop Follow

Nope. Nothing. Maybe you could talk to @msretrosofficial about it?

🌟 flemwad69 Follow

OP i suggest you fuck your hot car wife

🤓 hotchocolateboi Follow

OMG RUUTTTHH THAT'S LITERALLY OUR SHOP TEACHER STOP

🧔 timsdaddyhouston Follow

Been there, done that.

🤓 hotchocolateboi Follow

..wait, what now?

42 Notes

🌟 flemwad69 Follow

she's a news anchor. he's also a news anchor. Their 5 year long stint as the co hosts of Morning Cup Of News will change your perception of love.

👨🏻 iamdanreynolds Follow

Uhm, what now?

👩thats-amazing-donna Follow

I second that, what the hell?

🌟 flemwad69 Follow

OH SHIT YOU GUYS HAVE TUMBLR I HAVE TO GO DELETE SO MANY POSTS NOW-

🐿 peanuts-the-hatchetfield-pocket-squirrel

No no OP, you're right. They're really lovey dovey off camera.

🌟 flemwad69 Follow

PEANUTS???

42,690 Notes

😎 steph-lauter-the-mayors-daughter Follow

a test.

👨‍💼 normalman23 Follow

Sure, to our knowledge the Ape Man isn't real and if he was, why would he come to my house? But consider this, dear reader. Peanuts The Hatchetfield Pocket Squirrel is simply too busy and too famous to show up at my, a normal office worker's, house.

Damn I wish I was him.

500 notes

🗳️ hatchetfield-confessions Follow

You know what, I'm gonna go ahead and say it. I think Ted Spankoffski is hotter than Dan Reynolds.

~~~

🥴 dans-biggest-fan Follow

Anon I am at your house right now with a gun.

🚬 lex-foster

Omg mom GET OFF TUMBLR

#like srsly wtf? #she literally runs a dan reynolds fan blog you guys #like feed your children omg

23 notes

🍆 spankman69-deactivated20041017

Yo I just found this sick time travelling box what do I do with it

🐐 tick-tock Follow

Perhaps you should try using it to go back in time and fix your mistakes, OP! Hahaha hahaha!

🍆 spankman69-deactivated20041017

Sure thing, doesn't sound risky at all.

390 Notes

🫓msretrosofficial-deactivated20200604

Miss Retro's will temporarily be closed for renovations! Hope to see y'all back when we reopen! <3 <3 <3

👦🏻just-a-social-worker-guy Follow

Just stumbed upon this post and I am wondering, who is OP? And why do I feel such a weird feeling around her?

✨️ holidays-are-over

Wouldn't you like to know..

65 Notes

🌐 hatchetfield-morning-news-official Follow

Good Morning Hatchetfield! Make sure to tune in today at 9:00 am sharp to hear more about Hatchetfield's favorite pocket squirrel!

👨🏻 iamdanreynolds Follow

Updating about this on my main and.. what the fuck?

👩thats-amazing-donna Follow

PEANUTS THE HATCHETFIELD POCKET SQUIRREL IS TALKING!!

👨🏻 iamdanreynolds Follow

HE'S A SENTIENT BEING!

👩thats-amazing-donna Follow

WHAT DO WE DO NOW?!

👨🏻 iamdanreynolds Follow

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?!

👩thats-amazing-donna Follow

WHAT IS THE NEXT STEP?!

👨🏻 iamdanreynolds Follow

IS THERE A GOD?!

💥 hatchetfield-disaster-archive

Hatchetfield Disaster Log: Peanuts the Hatchetfield Pocket Squirrel starts talking, and the Hatchetfield News studio is set on fire.

100,069 Notes

[ejzah]

Would you do a short fic where Kensi freaks out about Twinkies being discontinued and Deeks tries to help her? Then maybe a time jump to when Twinkies were brought back?

A/N: I feel like someone has done a fic on this before, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me. Hopefully my fuzzy memories of said fic won’t influence this one two much.

Also, elements of this are fairly ridiculous.

***

Comfort Food

November 2012

“Oh my god,” Kensi gasped, stopping in the center of the bullpen as she stared down at her phone.

“What’s wrong?” Deeks asked with mild concern. She lifted her head, a distant, horrified look in her eye, and Deeks stomach sank.

“Something horrible,” she whispered.

“Is it—is someone sick?” He was by her side in a second, gently cupping her elbow. In all his time as her partner, Deeks had rarely seen Kensi so upset.

“No, it’s not like that.” She licked her bottom lip and gave the phone a little shake. “The Hostess company declared bankruptcy. There’s not going to be anymore Twinkies.”

“Wait, this is about snack cakes?” Deeks clarified.

“Not just any snack cake,” Kensi said, voice raising. “Twinkies. They’re soft and fluffy, cream in the middle. There’s nothing else like them, and I’ve been eating them since I was four.”

Although his first reaction had been bemusement, followed by the urge to laugh, he could tell Kensi was genuinely upset.

“Um ok, well I’m sure we can figure something out. Come on and sit down.”

Kensi did as he said, her shock quickly turning to anger. “I bet they’re going to be sold out everywhere too. I knew I should have restocked my supply last month, but I was on that whole health kick and it’s been bikini season.”

“Understandable,” Deeks replied while she rambled mindlessly. Despite his desire to comfort her, he felt his lip twitching.

“Now I’ll have to make do with Little Debbie,” she continued with obvious disdain. “Fancy Cakes are just not the same.”

“Yeah, they’ve got that whole waxy coating, like you’re eating a sweet candle.”

“Exactly.”

“You know what, I have a friend who works at one of the stores around here. I can ask him I he can set a couple boxes aside for you,” Deeks offered.

“You do that for me?” Kensi said softly. As though he’d just offered her a kidney.

“Sure. If it makes you happy.”

“Thanks, Deeks.” Kensi squeezed his hand. “You’re a good partner.” As he grabbed his phone, she added, “Um, maybe you can see if they have the family size boxes?”

“I’ll check.” Deeks grinned as he pulled up the right contact. There probably wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for Kensi Marie Blye if it meant she was happy.

***

October 2013

“Ok, what are we watching?” Kensi asked, coming back from the bathroom. Deeks was already reclined on her couch, sorting through the stack of DVDs she’d pulled out for movie night.

“I’m thinking “Somewhere in Time”,” Deeks decided.

“Sap.” Kensi gave him a fond look. “I approve though since it has both Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour in gorgeous dresses.”

“It always surprises me that you like those styles. But then I remember your obsession with “Titanic”.”

“Oh hush up and put on the movie,” she said, curling up beside him. “Wait, what’s this?” She pointed to the light blue paper gift bag on the side table.

“A present for you.”

“Okaaay. Should I be worried? You didn’t put some kind of gag gift in here that’s going to jump out at me, right?”

“Nope, that’s more your style than mine,” he said, glancing back as he slid the DVD into the player. “C’mon, open it.”

Sending him another suspicious glance, she pulled out the fluff of tissue paper on top, and pulled out the content without looking inside.

“Twinkies?” She glanced up with mild confusion now.

“Yeah, I kind of missed the grand reopening, but still wanted to celebrate the occasion,” Deeks explained with a shrug. “I figured you could never have too many Twinkies, right? I guess it’s kind of stupid.”

“No, it’s sweet. Thanks,” Kensi said, offering him a soft, genuine smile. “And you’re right, you can never have too many.” Tearing open the box, she dumped out a couple packages, tossing one to Deeks. He caught it in one hand before it hit the lamp.

“Uh, don’t you want to get one of the older boxes from last year, since those will expire sooner?” he asked.

“Um,” Kensi mumbled guiltily, a cake already halfway to her mouth. She bit into it, cheeks flushing slightly.

“Kensi, did you eat all of them already?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered around the Twinkie.

“Well, now we know who’s single-handedly keeping the company afloat,” he teased. When she didn’t answer, he nudged her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I still like you, Kensalina. Twinkie obsession and all.”

***

A/N: The second part was a little difficult because the production of Twinkies started back up smack in the middle of post-Sidorov time. So, I had to shift things a bit, because that’s all little too dark for this particular fic.

Thanks for the prompt!

[jellorat]

My Schedule as a Barely Functioning Adult

This is what I am dealing with in the next few weeks:

11/23/22 - Take a load over to the new house, drive 1 hour to IKEA to pick up items we bought, drive back, and put them together. Today's complication was brought to us by IKEA not having things in stock the first time, and also giving us a reopened an half-assembled Alvari drawer with the wrong drawer slides in it, and going back and getting the wrong drawer slide AGAIN! I suppose one fuck up out of 10 years of purchases is decent odds, so I will allow it.

11/24/22 - Ignore Thanksgiving, and pack the house for moving. Maybe go to a restaurant and eat sad restaurant thanksgiving. Not sure what's happening with this. Wife is in charge.

11/25/22 - Ignore the holiday, pack the house and maybe take items over before movers. There is NO WAY we are letting them touch $600 Flu Vogs. Like who would risk that leather?

11/26/22 - Continue packing. Maybe take things. Maybe not.

11/27/22 - Even god got a rest day, so we plan on sitting in our cramped apartment, probably in bed because it will be the only place without boxes. We will do nothing! Because we are both old, and plan on being sore and exhausted.

11/27/22 - 11/30/22 Work. My job is a dumpster fire right now, and my boss and I have been entangled in a HR incident where she shared my medical issues to attempt to prevent a transfer to a different team. She's a total fucking shit, and it went so well that her boss is all over her right now, so things are tense. ALSO, pack for my wife's trip to Arizona for Electrolysis.

12/1/22 - Silently try not to panic at the idea of heading ot the airport at 0400 in the morning. Work the day, while being completely distracted, and trying not ot panic at my bosses complete incompetent shenanigans. (Hence the attempt to transfer in the first place.)

12/2/22 - Got to Airport. Support wife while she has to grow out her beard. Be anxious with TSA. Get to Arizona, get to Rental Car, get wife to electrolysis, and check into the hotel. Get back to my wife, and keep her company so I am at least there when someone says something shitty to her. Which is an ongoing theme.

12/3/22 - Get wife to all day electrolysis again. Say nothing except polite niceties. Big mask. Big mask!

12/4/22 - Get to airport, drop off rental, go through TSA, get back home, then drive back to our apartment. Realize it's all boxes, and not relaxing at all. Lay in a malaise of post Arizona funk, and be silently grateful our transgender asses don't live there.

12/5/22 - This should have been a post Arizona rest day, but nope! This will be the kick off of the final packing preparations. Moving are coming on the 10th. Call and confirm! Double check everything. Take anything that needs to go over, over, so the movers dont' have art and fragile things to move.

12/6/22 to 12/8/22 - Work in a shit show and look for new job posting at work so I can try and transfer again.

12/9/22 - Go to state capital to fight the unique transgender fight of trying to get my 30 year old marriage certificate amended to our new names. This requires an act of god, a 6th month wait for this appointment, and hoping all the name change court documents will be enough. Then! Drive back home, and take all electronics to the new house. We will take all TVs, and the four gaming consoles, plus two expansive computer set ups. We are talking endless monitors, KVM switches, and god knows what.

12/10/22 - MOVING DAY! Professional movers will come for boxes and furniture at 9am. We will anxiously watch and panic until all items are in the new house. Then we will probably unpack some.

12/11/22 - Unpack more.

12/12/22 - Unpack more.

12/13/22 - Not working, just laying in bad thinking thank god it's over and recovering.

I need an adult that is not me. This is the time I do wish I had a family to help. It's just my wife and I and we are also fighting executive dysfunction issues, and this is a lot for 3 weeks.

[forgottenyear]

My energy was better today, but it still felt thin. I did not do much.

It is settling in that I may be talking with a therapist sooner than I expected. This morning I was thinking about it and happy to be finally moving on this. This evening it dawned on me that we will need to reopen Pandora’s box.

The temporary therapist is only there to help me find a good match, but that will necessarily involve a bit of history. Not merely snippets of history, but at least an overview of the pertinent elements.

I am less relieved than I was initially. I do want to work with a therapist again, but.

It was okay when I was only just beginning to look. It was okay when it was something in the future. But maybe I was stuck for so long because I know what is coming.

We will follow through. We nearly always do. That kind of sucks about us.

It was so easy with my old therapist because he had been there for so long. Most of what we discovered was discovered in our therapist’s office.

I have only snippets of memories of the therapists we had before. We connected with the old therapist before fusion, I think. It was definitely during the forgotten years (years in which memories do not appear to have formed, as opposed to the amnesia years in which things were merely unremembered).

--

Nope.

Time to change course for the night. I began listening to their music and that road leads the wrong way. I will need to be aware of their lives soon, but only when it is safe to do so.

Maybe it is for the best that I do not yet have my energy back.

I need to watch stupid shows for a while.

[miku-life-tips]

yk what, fuck it, all of them, 1-50

 Do you have freckles?  Yes, several, I've had only two for as long as I can remember, the rest have slowly come in over time

 Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it?  Hate both, coffee smells disgusting, sweet tea turned me off tea

What was the last song you listened to?  Currently listen to Creek, Thunder by The Reverent Marigold

Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side? Yes, no, yes. I get ill if I sleep on my stomach, it's odd

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?  Several currently, but the main one is from 10 years ago! Almost 11 now! She is a pink poodle named Bubbles

Do you prefer drawing or writing?  Writing, I'm not the best at drawing, but I have years of writing experiences so I think I'm pretty decent :D

What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with? Depends, either 2 or 3, 2 if it's hot, 3 if it's not. (Younger me would say just the comforter)

What’s your favorite band/artist? Whatever Spotify shows me rn!

When is your birthday? You will know when it is because I will 100% post like Its my Birthday :D But October 19th lol

How tall are you? 5'1, am short

What color are your eyes? Blue, at least that's what my ID says :D

Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now? No one! Already hugged my mom today :D

Fears? Several! Spiders, deep water, irl social interaction, needles for example

What’s your favorite color? Purple, blue, black, red, any really tbh

What’s your favorite season? Ah. I don't know. Spring or Winter

Want any tattoos? What of? I'm good without! lol

Want any piercings? Where? Not really already got the standard ears ones (though. one is closed now. The other got reopened by a bee)

Who is the last person you texted? My friend!

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends? I have 2! One since Elementary School (3rd grade to be exact), the other since Middle School (7th I think)

What/who do you miss? I've been missing a lot of things recently. I don't really know exactly what yet though

How was your day today? It was Ok, work is work lol 

How much sleep did you get last night? None! I work night shift lol

Answered Already!

When was the last time you cried? Why? When the video about Technoblade came out.

What’s your favorite decade?  I like the 2000s, like 2010 and stuff

What are some seemingly childish things you like?  Stuffed animals, dressing up, toys

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times? The Treasure Box by Penelope J. Stokes!

How are you, really? Tired...

Does it take you a long time to make decisions?  Sometimes! It depends :D

Answered Already!

What are you looking forward to in the distant future? I'd rather not think about it!

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?  Anywhere? I'm not sure tbh

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? Have to lol, the animals

What’s your favorite flower? I love Lilies of the Valley!

Do you currently have a squish? I don't know what that means!

Do you like your middle name? Yeah :D 

Do you prefer dogs or cats? I like cats a bit more

Do you have any phobias? Aren't fears and phobias the same?

Do you stay up late? I work night shift!

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy? Ugh no, hate sand 

What’s your favorite cartoon? I like Gravity Falls, Hilda, and Centaur World :D

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs I don't want to bother anyone >.<

Do you have siblings? How many? Yes, 2. I am the youngest 

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? Probably my mom! I say it a lot

Is there anyone you would die for? Ah, probably not >.< Dont like the idea of dying tbh 

What do you need when you’re sad?  A hug, reassurance

Have you memorized your phone number? Nope!

Who’s someone you can trust with your life? My friend! She knows who she is!

What does your last text say?  I love him (It was about Genshin Character Thoma)

Wild Card. Any question, ask away.  I already answered 49, what more is there lol

[robobarbie]

Hello, everyone. I am the creator/director of blooming panic, and I'm here to answer your questions. Here are some guidelines for how things work, plus a FAQ and whatever else I can think of LOL.

Side reblogs blog: @roborandoms

Ask box: CLOSED

Ask theme: N/A

Hiatus'd theme: BLOOMIC ER (WE’LL SAVE YOU) (MAYBE) [ASKS NOT DELETED]

-----

INBOX RULES

1. If a question has been asked before or found in the FAQ below, I will skip it.

2. Keep your questions mostly sfw -- suggestive content is fine, but, ya know, i like to keep things pretty sfw with fans.

3. I typically won't answer asks that deal with the following: genderbending, sexual assault, animal death, situations that involve the LIs physically harming MC, fandoms I'm not familiar with, drugs, or eating disorders. 

4. If a question is a little too shitposty, I'll skip it. But i respect your energy.

5. Please limit your questions to one or two characters if you want a scenario written out. All asks with more than two characters will either be skipped or have brief sentences for the scenarios, or I'll just choose a couple characters for you.

6. The inbox will close every time i cross 200 asks and will reopen when i have it below 100.

7. Also. I will just wipe the inbox from time to time.

-----

FAQ

----Where can I find your other games?

Right here.

----What ethnicities/races/nationalities do you headcanon the love interests?

Nightowl -- korean, immigrated to america. can speak korean.

Quest -- white, born and raised in america.

Xyx -- filipino, born and raised in australia. Can speak tagalog.

Nakedtoaster -- danish, immigrated to america. Cannot speak danish.

----Are any of the love interests open to polyamory?

Of all of them, toasty and xyx are the most open to it.

----What are the LIs birthdays?

Toaster: Jan 11th, Nightowl: Apr 1st, Quest: Sept 24th, Xyx: October 30th

----How do you pronounce "xyx"?

Either "ecks-why-ecks" or "zicks".

----Can BloomBot detect/censor [RANDOM IDEA]?

Yes.

----Who are the two characters that appear in the nightowl route?

That's ace and keldran from Deliver Us From Evil.

----Do you have anywhere we can send donations?

Nope! But you can donate that money to charity and I'll think you are Very Cool.

----Will there be more blooming panic content?

We don't have any content planned at this time.

----Will blooming panic be ported to mobile?

Only if I have a mental crack and decide to go apeshit porting it for a week. Otherwise no.

----Can I make fan merch?

Yes.

----Where can i join the discord server?

Here.

[minteyeddevil]

What’s Mine is Mine

Mammon x GN!MC

Smut/NSFT

(toy usage, slight voyeurism)

Takes place during Ch.4A-C, where Mammon is going through your things, but he ends up finding something much more personal! (Originally written with an afab!MC on my Ao3, but rewrote it to suit GN!MC)

 "What's MC's is mine, and what's mine is miiine!~"

 Mammon hummed cheerfully to himself as he went through several of your drawers and your closet, searching for anything valuable he could, at least what he told himself he could, pawn off for Grimm. He found mostly casual clothing and several uniforms, nothing that looked really worth a lot of money; until he happened upon a box hidden in your desk.

 "Oh? Could this have money in it?" He gave the box a slight sniff. "Nah, doesn't smell like money. Maybe jewelry, or a bank card!?" When he finally opened it, he gave a small scoff of annoyance. "Nope, just chocolate and sweets, feh."

 A larger hand took the box from his quickly, and he turned with a small start to see his younger brother Beel, who was now munching on MC's sweets. "I'll take these."

 "Of course, if food is around, you're bound to show up, aren'tcha Beel? Guaranteed," Mammon mumbled, before turning around to continue his search for goods in your room.

 "What are you even looking for? You know this is MC's room, right?" Beel asked around a mouthful of cookie. Mammon continued to tear through your other drawers, laughing at his brother's question. "Of course I know! I'm looking for anything I can make some money off of. I can't just ask MC for money, so instead I have to look through their things while they are gone. I am sure they have something worth some money in here somewhere. And since I am stuck looking after them, I feel I have a right to take what I want from them!"

 Beel gave a slight roll of his eyes, continuing to munch on the chocolate pieces in the box. "You know you won't actually sell their things, Mammon. No matter what you say, you couldn't bring yourself to actually do it."

 Mammon looked at Beel with as deep a glare as he could muster. "Don't pretend ya know what I will and won't do! You're talking to THE Mammon, ya know! You bet I would sell their things, hell, I would even sell them if I knew it would turn a good profit! I don't even care about how they feel, THE Mammon doesn't care about any humans! MC isn't special to me in any shape or form!"

 "I didn't mention anything about caring about them or them being special, Mammon," Beel mumbled around another mouthful, "besides, even if you did take any of their things, you made a pact with MC. All they would have to do is tell you to bring their things back and you would have to do it. You know that."

 Mammom turned away from his brother, practically burying himself in digging through another drawer to hide the blush on his face. "It's not like they would know it was me! I could get away with it no problem!" He stopped suddenly when he noticed a black silky bag at the back of the drawer, and he pulled it forward. "What do we have here?" he whispered to himself, opening the bag. He froze in place when he realized what the object was, closed the bag back up and shoved it back into its spot before his brother could notice.

 Thankfully, Beel was too busy shaking the box over his mouth to free up the crumbs from it to notice him. "Just admit it," he finally said with a sigh, tossing the box over his shoulder once it was completely empty. "The truth is you like your human so much that you can't handle but go through their things like this. You aren't going to sell any of this stuff."

 Mammon turned on him quickly, flustered. "Are you joking!? Me, care about a human!? I don't care about some stupid human! All they are is demon food, nothing more than bugs to be stepped on! I don't care about anything this damn human does o-or owns or anything! I don't care one bit!"

 Beel simply laughed at his mess of a brother. "You could have fooled me, Mammon. Look at how riled up you are getting. So desperate to seem like you don't care when you are practically screaming how much you do. It's kind of cute, actually." He placed a hand on his stomach when a loud rumble came from it, frowning. "Ugh, I'm gonna go to the kitchen and find something more to eat. Try not to destroy their room too bad, will you?"

 With that, Beel left the room, leaving Mammon a flustered mess, now staring at the drawer where the silk bag was hidden. His hands shook as he reopened the drawer, and pulled the silky bag out once more. When he opened it again, he flushed instantly, realizing that what he was staring at was in fact a black dildo, that could only belong to MC. Why would they own something like this and leave it where he could so easily find it!? Oh, right...they were hiding it in their drawer, and he happened to find it. Still, would they really need something like this? Couldn't they just...ask him for help, in situations like that? Right. He was just their guard demon right now, so chances were they wouldn't ask him about something like that. Besides, he didn't care about them! He didn't care at all about them!

 ...Right?

 Well...maybe he was more curious than anything right now so...he could ask them about it when they got home. The real issue now was, how to bring it up in conversation.

 ***

 When you finally arrived home from class, you could hear movement coming from inside your room. Cautiously, you opened the door and peered in, only to find Mammon pacing in your room, holding something in his hands and mumbling to himself. You decided to step in and walked up to the pacing demon, placing a hand on his arm to draw his attention.

 "Mammon, what are you--!?"

 He acted as if you struck him, jumping a foot away from you, hiding the black bag behind his back. "MC! Wh-when did you get home? Why didn't you knock before coming in!?"

 You flushed deeply when you realized what he was holding, stepping closer to him to try and take it from him. "Mammon this is my room! I don't need to knock, and you shouldn't be in here going through my things! Give that back to me!"

 He moved before you could make contact with him, holding the bag above his head and out of your reach. "Not until you tell me why you have it! Where did you get it? Did Asmo give it to you or something? It looks like something he would own! Why do you have something like this, MC!?"

 Your flush only deepened and swatted at his chest over and over until he curled in on himself a bit, giving you a chance to reach up and grab the bag from his hand. "Hey, give that back! You didn't answer my question!" he hollered, lunging for you.

 You moved out of his reach this time and ran towards your door, swinging it open and pointing out. "Leave, now! I don't need to explain to you why I own...certain things. Now go!"

 Mammon frowned, moving towards the door, but instead of leaving, closed it and locked it. He turned on you and seemed to tower over you, hands on his hips in annoyance. "I have a right to know what my human owns, so I went through your things, big whoop. I found this sex toy, and I want to know why you own it, so I would answer me if I was you before I decide to eat you. So, answer me, MC!"

 You swallowed thickly at his threat, his voice getting lower and turning into a growl as he spoke. You clutched the bag to your chest, stepping back a bit from him until finally giving a deep sigh of defeat. "I got it because I've been feeling...needy, okay? Asmo told me of a place in town I could get one, no he didn't help me get it," you added when you noticed the glare on his face, "but I just...wanted something to take care of myself with. That's it. Happy now?"

 You felt shame wash over your body at being caught with your toy, but you finally gave this damn demon the answer he was hounding for. You were silently hoping that would be good enough, that he would be satisfied with your answer and finally leave you alone; but instead, he stepped closer, forcing you to back up against the wall of your room and tower over you once more. He looked down at you with hunger in his eyes; a different kind you hadn't seen before. He was even slightly pouting at you.

 "Ya know, MC, if you really needed help in that department ya coulda just asked me instead. I, ugh, I don't mind...taking care of ya if you really need it. Hell, you should be flattered I'd want to take care of you like that! The Great Mammon doesn't offer things like that to just anyone, ya know."

 A deep blush took over his cheeks and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. "I...I didn't think you would be interested in me like that…"

 He flared suddenly. "Are you dense!? Humans really are so dumb! I--" He stopped himself, taking on his cool facade once more before giving too much away. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But right now, I am offering to take care of you, so if I were you, I would jump on the opportunity. Besides," he took the bag from your hands quickly, "I'm curious as to how you use this thing too. So why not let me, ya know, watch?"

 You squeaked, pulling the bag away from him once more and darting out of his shadow against the wall. "Watch me!? You're joking! Mammon, this is all so sudden, I couldn't let you do any of that!"

 He was on you once more, and he walked you back towards your bed, pushing you back on it as he hovered above you. He gently pushed your bangs from your forehead, and gave you a smirk. "I don't see what the big deal is. You're needy, and I'm willing to help the poor human out. The least you can do for me first is show me how you play with your toy. It's not that big of a deal, is it?"

 You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, looking away from his face and around your room for any form of escape, until he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him once more. "C'mon MC, dontcha think it'll be fun to do with your sweet and amazing Mammon?" He leaned his head forward and placed a deep kiss against your lips. You instantly melted into his touch, giving a soft sigh as he deepened the kiss, nipping at your lip for entry into your mouth. He pulled away all too soon, making you whimper at the contact.

 "So, is that a yes?" he teased, and you flushed deeply, but rolled your eyes at him.

 "Okay...I'll do it."

 He grinned widely at you, and shifted on your bed to give you space to finally move. He sat at the edge and watched your every move intently as you stood to strip off your uniform, leaving you in your green shirt and underwear. You went to your drawer for a moment to grab a little bottle from it and returned to your spot on the bed, blushing furiously at the excited look in Mammon's eyes. You finally removed your underwear and wanted to hide when you saw his mouth slack open from staring at you. It took everything in him to not dive in on you while you spread your legs to use your lubricant on your entrance. When you finally pressed the head of the toy to your hole he felt his breath catch in his chest when you whined at the pressure of it slightly stretching you. He watched you rub it against yourself, your eyes fluttered closed, and finally when you pushed it in, he let out a small moan along with yours.

 You let it sink deep into you, pulling it out slowly and pressing it back in just as slow. You were embarrassed to be on display like this but at the same time, excited it was Mammon watching you. You let your eyes open for a moment and let out a small squeak when you noticed he was staring fully at your hands working on yourself.

 Ever the impatient demon, he scooted closer to you, placing his hand on yours that was moving the toy in and out of you. "Let me take over, babe," he whispered to you, taking the toy and pressing it fully inside you. The sudden fullness made you gasp and buck against the toy, and he smirked down at you, pulling it all the way out only to slam it back into you. You didn't expect him to want to participate; but it was the Avatar of Greed here with you. He was bound to want to take over at some point.

 "M-Mammon!" His name came out in a gasp when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, and he realized he desperately wanted to hear you say his name again. He used the toy on you a bit longer but soon pulled it from you and flung it across the room. You cried out at the emptiness and glared at him for a moment before realizing what he was doing.

 "Fuck, I can't hold back anymore," he grumbled, scrambling to his feet to discard his clothing. He climbed atop you, and you bit your lip when you saw his full length against your middle. He looked clearly bigger than your toy and you couldn't help but rub against him as he pressed down on you to slick up his shaft with your lubed entrance. "Better be ready, babe, cause I plan on filling you to the brim," he growled against your lips before kissing you deeply and delving his cock deep inside you.

 He allowed you a few seconds to adjust, before pounding into you over and over. You could feel the tip of his cock brush against that one spot deep inside, making you see stars with each thrust. He only sped up his tempo when you began to tighten around him, your nails digging into his back as he did so. His name tumbled from your lips over and over like a mantra, and he thrilled in hearing them, becoming harder inside you. Finally your vision went white and you tightened around his cock, milking him until he finally came along with you, filling you up with his seed.

 He let himself collapse on top of you, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply. You could feel him still buried deep inside you and you let out a high moan when he reluctantly pulled out. He rolled you both onto your sides, pulling you into his arms tightly as he nuzzled your cheek.

 "You don't need that stupid toy," he grumbled by your ear. "See? I'm far better than that hunk of rubber. If ever you feel needy like this again, just call me, and if I have the time, I'll come take care of you. Maybe," he teased, going back to his usual self.

 "Well what if you don't have time? I need it just in case--"

 "No!" he growled, hugging you possessively. "I will always make time for you, MC."

[soldmysoultootomeboys]

Hi! Can I request headcannons for the human brothers accidently summoning an angel mc instead of a demon and the angel mc insisting on sticking around and helping them?

The other brothers: :) Satan: >:)

This has been in the drafts for too long. I really love the absolute mood switch between Lucifers and Mammons. And just Satans in general ig.

Lucifer

After years of religious trauma at the hands of his father Lucifer finally thought he was free of any connection to the church. Summoning a flaming seraphim at 3 in the morning was not a pleasant way to find out that he was wrong.

As for you, being summoned for the first time in your long long life was an unwelcome surprise. You were a seraphim for heaven's sake. The cream of the crop, highest of the high, and that wasn’t pride speaking only facts. You were crucial to running the celestial realm.

But somehow you’re undeniably tied to his human. You could feel where his soul became intermeshed with your very essence. How wrong it felt to be tied to something so mortal, and delicate, and free.

Any attempts to leave would surely be met with disaster.

So you stay. Lucifer is cold. You can’t blame him. Being there reopens old wounds that he’d rather have remained closed. But just ignoring each other isn’t going to work.

He’s not interested in the celestial realm, and despises any blessing you try and give him, but a fresh cup of coffee during an all-nighter seems to make him brighter than any magic you could do and when you run your hands through his hair he looks at you with more fondness than you can comprehend.

You learn to be more human. He learns to let go of the past.

And one day you find that you don’t want to leave anymore.

For celestial sake that thought should as well be treason! But it’s true.

It’s a spring afternoon and Lucifer plays celestial lullabies on his piano and you want nothing more than for the beautiful night to come so you can sweep him in your arms and remind him how he glows.

You don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, but you know that this human is yours and you are his. To rip off your wings would be to find solace in his arms. But you can not give him that. This he knows.

So you promise to protect him, in words he can’t hear but he understands. The spread of your wings shield him from the world and you press blessings to his skin in the shape of the crescents in his back and your lips on his neck. If nothing else you’ll keep him safe. When the world seems too big and the stress of his life gets him down you’ll always be here for him to crawl back to. You can give him that much.

Mammon

That was it

You had to have been assigned the stupidest human in the world

When you were promoted to guardian angel you kinda thought it would be more ‘protecting orphans’ and ‘guiding lost puppies back home’ NOT watching a grown man spend his last paycheck on his eighth Nigerian prince scam

Seriously mammon? Did the prophetic dreams you sent mean nothing? The visions of the future he coincidentally had after hitting his head on a light post, only simple illusions? What more could you try beyond simply marching down their and clocking him on the head yourself?

...unless

Raphael would have your wings if you went to the human world. But that would be a lot less painful that having to watch whatever Mammon was going to do with all the rubber cement he just bought.

The next morning you decide to sneak down. The city was amazing, all colored light and fun machines that whizzed by you on the streets

But you had to stay focused

You were an angel on a mission

You made your way towards central park. Mammon went there every morning to swindle tourists out of their wallets. If you were fast you’d get there before the first patrol office started chasing him.

Spotting the albino you marched straight towards him, readied yourself, and smacked him over the head.

Maybe not very angel-like but it worked.

One introduction later and you're officially a guardian angel

Mammon’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him. Sure he may be a bit too obsessed with lining his pockets but for all his talk he never hesitates to try and help you out.

Consistent affection and care is good for him. He never really knows how to react when you wrap your wings around him but even with his tsundere objections it's obvious he’s pleased.

He’ll take whatever scraps of affection you’ll give him and practically beams at every little gesture you do, no matter how small or insignificant.

You do have to be careful though.

At his request you had attempted to bless him with a bit of luck. An easy enough spell for an angel like you (even if you were 90% sure he planned to go gambling after). Whatever scheming he’s doing immediately stops the moment you cup his face. He seems to freeze when you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek

You were about to congratulate yourself on a spell well done when you noticed the condition he was in. He was like a living statue, a statue with a very very red face

Before you can ask what was wrong he flails pushing you away and darting off to his room

Any attempts to speak to him the rest of the day were met with incoherent shouting.

It might be best to withhold any magic until you can figure out how humans work

Levi

Once again Levi’s dedication to anime gets him into trouble

It started with his most recent obsession, a new anime that follows a group of angels, produced by the famous company, Dove. The plot, the animation, the soundtrack, all of it was amazing so when they came out with a new limited edition item featuring the very symbol that the main character wore he just had to have it

The moment it came he was setting it up on its own altar, a handmade replica just like in the show only for- Oh no

Before his eyes burst a shining visage of light and then you

You blink in surprise, whether it's from taking a human form for the first time in decades or the strange new room you were in, only you know

The scene may be foreign but the guy quivering on the floor was not

BE NOT AFRAID

Your booming voice echoes around the room

For some reason the guy begins to freak out even more

Didn’t he see your halo? You even told him to not be afraid. Were humans really so strange? :(

Oh well. You hum making your aura as comforting as possible and slowly the guy calms down enough for you to coax him into a seat as you begin to explain.

Which might not have been the best move.

The moment it sunk in he was bombarding you with questions

Yes you were an angel, no you didn’t know what anime was, yes you had wings, no you didn’t have any secret ultimate moves...whatever those were

He ranted and raved over this and that and you let him. He seemed like he needed someone to talk to. It also let you piece together what had happened.

He seemed to be a natural sorcerer, and a powerful one at that if he could someone an angel with no training or even knowledge that he could do magic

Just a few minutes in his presence made his self loathing obvious. Mix in a bit of anxiety and envy and you essentially have Levi in a nutshell

So you decide to stay

What kind of angel would you be if you just left him here? Michael would understand.

Or he wouldn't, it didn’t really matter because you already made up your mind.

Living with Levi is an experience for both of you.

He introduces you to so many new things. He had little boxes that could control light and screens containing actual people to talk to. It was all quite fanciful

In return you act as his friend, encouraging him to go out with you and attending cons with him, even if you still weren't exactly sure what cosplaying is

Slowly he begins to open up for you

He’s still nervous to go out in public, and a complete introvert at heart.

But that was fine. You could both figure out this new world together, at your own pace

Satan

Definitely was not trying to summon a demon to lay havoc on his enemies

Nope, not him he says all while trying to casually kick away vials of mysterious fluids

...Right

You���ve been down to the human world enough to know a demon summoner when you see one

Or in this case a failed summoner

He has no excuse for why he called you and instead seems more insistent that you leave

As much as you you might like to return to the celestial realm, you cannot in good conscience leave a man that you know is going to try and raise hell on earth the moment your gone

So you stay, and it's a good thing you do

This man has anger issues like no other

You thought Raphael was bad this guy is like a demon himself

However he seems willing to try and make the best of what he considers a bad situation

He asks you a lot of questions on the celestial realm

For a guy who knows so much about the devildom he seems to really be lacking on any knowledge on the other celestial beings

He mostly asks you questions on the celestial war, which is a touchy topic at best and downright upsetting at worst

He’s very interested in your opinions as your point of view is very different from his own, what with being a different species and everything

You learn things too, mostly about humans and cats but you suppose its a fair trade

Because of this you become close friends

You really win him over when he finds out your calming aura naturally attracts the stray kittens Satan's been trying to pet for the last few months

It’s not uncommon to head out to late night coffee shops and discuss the merits of different aspects of your lives

But maybe you’ve gotten a bit to close when he starts asking you to revise his summoning notes

Asmo

Apparently a lifetime of partying has prepared Asmo for some very weird discoveries

When you're sent down to the human world you have one job, find and keep an eye on the potentially dangerous summoner who's been in contact with multiple high level demons in the past few days.

Instead you end up meeting Asmo

You were prepared for a fight, not to be tackled into a hug the moment you revealed yourself

Asmo on the other hand is squealing with excitement

Sweetie, he's been waiting for this moment! This is his first time meeting an angel after all

He immediately begins talking about everything he wants to do

You quickly find out that he hasn’t made any pacts...yet, if only because he “couldn’t bear to damage his skin with such an ugly mark”

...Well you suppose that's a reason to not sell your soul

Even thoughts he's aware of the three realms it doesn’t make him any less enamoured with you

He’s never met an angel, he’s quick to mention. He’d love to get to know you, if you get what he means ;)

Are all humans so upfront?

If you decline he still wants to see your true form, even after you explain that no, if you transform you will not just be a beautiful angel with wings but instead a glowing mass of eyes and feathers and angelic light that will probably end up blinding him

Blinded because of your beauty ;) ;) ;)

That said he’s easily satisfied when you just bring out your wings.

He loves fussing with them and decorates them with jewelry and roses whenever you leave them out

He even starts an angel trend on insta after posting a photo as if they were coming from his back instead

Claims your glowing aura is great for his skin

You’re not sure if that’s a pick up line or if he’s serious but he definitely basks in your presence

Loves when you talk about the celestial realm, somewhere he desperately wants to go

I mean it's the only place that's fit for a beauty like him right? But of course he can’t die yet, his fans would be sooo upset

You agree to bring him up there one day, even if that sounds a little morbid

Of course he asks you to become his guardian angel

That may not be your actual job but you can’t resist his puppy dog eyes

You and him go pretty much everywhere together, bar some more xxx rated sites

He introduces you to parties and bars, and while you don’t indulge it's enjoyable to see humans in their natural element. They’re so fun and free spirited just like Asmo

Maybe that's what attracted you to him in the first place

He loves life for what it is, something so admirably human

But you don’t slack off either. You take your role as Official Guardian Angel seriously. You guard his drinks when he goes to the bathroom, and hum celestial lullabies when he’s sad and escort him down dark alleys when walking home. He has nothing to fear with you around.

You’ve become very fond of this human. Perhaps you’ll stick around a bit longer than you planned

Beel

It’s rare to be assigned to a human so...mundane

But that’s exactly what Beel is. He goes to the gym in the mornings, works a nine to five, and comes back home to his dog

He even has a good relationship with this family, do you know how hard that is to find in this day and age???

The only thing even slightly abnormal about this guy is his appetite

He could put a gluttony demon to shame with the way he eats

But the point is you really can’t figure out why you’ve been assigned to him or how your supposed to guide him

Eat a little less? Stop stealing your brother's lunch?

It’s the first time in a long while you’ve been so stumped

So you do what any sane angel would, go down to the human world to meet him yourself

He’s a likeable guy and it’s easy to get close to him, more so do to your angelic status

Although it’s surprising how well he takes the whole angel revelation

To be honest your pretty sure he forgets most of the time

He tends to follow you around, especially at night when he insists on walking you to wherever you need to be. It’s sweet even though there's little that can really harm you in the human realm

You quickly realize that he’s the type to have nightmares, usually calling out for one of his brothers or his sister

It’s become habit to wake up and head to his room

Just being there seems to calm him down

The first time he wakes up when your doing this he ends up asking you to stay

Isn’t shy about sharing the bed either.

He’s easy going so goes along with whatever idea you have

Especially when he starts finding snacks in his bag, each one blessed for a good day or to stay full or whatever little thing you thought of that day

Belphegor

Humans can’t see angels. Not unless they want to be seen, you remind yourself for what must be the tenth time.

But you’re almost certain that guy is looking right at you.

Step to the left, his head follows

To the right, his eyes narrow looking at you like your some puzzle he just hasn’t figured out yet

…this was fine

You turn around pretending to just not see him in hope that he’ll get distracted by something else

...you glance back. Why was he still looking at you? What is with this creep?

Enough is enough.

You march over there ready to ask what his problem is. Instead he beats you to it.

Eh? You’re an angel right? He asks before you can say anything.

???? Shouldn’t he sound more shocked.

The guy just sleepily blinks. He doesn’t look like a sorcerer or a witch, in fact you can’t feel any magic from him at all.

You go to ask only to realize he’s sound asleep. It’s not like you could just leave him here. And at the same time a human who can just see angels is an oddity of itself.

You decide to hang around for a while. Belphegor doesn't mind. He only says something about it being "too troublesome to drive you off," and "you'd look like you'd just come back anyways"

Belphie sticks to you like glue, if glue was absolutely insufferable and seemed to enjoy annoying you at every possible moment

You would think this would be easy. I mean he sleeps all day and when he’s not sleeping he’s napping. Simple enough right? Wrong

When he was awake he was committed to pushing every single button you have

If it seemed like it might inconvenience or annoy you he was already doing it. Trying to smack your halo, pounce on you, or even jump off the roof just to see you scramble to catch him. He was like some terrible terrible cat

Luckily he was never energetic for long. When he wore himself out he’d retreat to the roof of his crappy one bedroom and wait for you to join him

He liked to look at the stars and he’d point them out to you. Orion, Polaris, Sirius, he would mutter, bringing you back to the days when Michael, who was once so fond of you, would sneak you down to the human world just to show you the stars and darkness the celestial realm could not offer

When he finally got tired you would take over reciting Celestial names and marking the sky with your finger just to show him where they’d be.

Those times were pleasant. Even if they were brief.

“I’m gonna jump.”

“Do it.”

“You’re an angel. Aren’t you supposed to stop me before I do something stupid?”

“You won't.”

“Aight. Bet.” Belphie pitches forward and you just manage to catch him by the leg before he falls off the roof.

Brat.

Always ruining a good moment.

You can’t even be mad. The moment you pull him up he’s already resting his fluffy head in your lap waiting for you to pet him.

He may be the most troublesome human in the entire three realms, but he’s your human

[ashintheairlikesnow]

BTHB: Traumatic Touch Aversion

@comfy-whumpee​ requested “Traumatic Touch Aversion” for Antoni and here it is! Antoni’s first meeting with Nat when he came to stay at her safehouse. Also listing @wildfaewhump​ who loves all things Antoni.

CW: Referenced burns/scarring, touch aversion, conditioning, pet whump reference, box boy, self-injury (reopening wound at the end)

They meet in what was supposed to be a brand new subdivision, back before the recession scattered the developers and contractors to the wind and left this grassy cleared patch of ground just outside the city, complete with poured paved little road and a few poured concrete slab foundations, like grave markers for the homes that were never built here, the people who never had the chance to move in.

A reminder of the world where you can do everything right and the whim of a few individuals, who live so far away from you, can create an avalanche that buries your plans. Nat is old hat at that, of course - she’s buried her plans twice now, and built new ones right on top of the old. She was going to work in journalism, and then she was going to be the best marketing director WRU ever had, and then…

And then she walked away.

Bought a house with some of her inheritance from her dad, fixed it up for a few months, and... started over.

She likes this life just fine, because it leads her here, to places like this, to clandestine meetings after dark.

Nat’s truck is parked in a cul-de-sac that loops around empty grass, where they might have built a playground, if the neighborhood had gone up. Or put in a pool. Ahead of her is the SUV of the man she’s meeting, so far out in the sticks that she doesn’t worry about being seen, not here. Not in the evening light, with the sky burning down to night. 

She hops down from the truck, short and strong, her long brown braid smacking in the middle of her back as she goes, in her signature flannel over a t-shirt and jeans. You look like Kurt Cobain’s mom, Jake had told her once, and she’d pointed out that she’d be Kurt Cobain’s little sister, thank you very much, she was in Driver’s Ed when all that happened, and hadn’t that blown his mind for a while. 

She’s smiling, a little, as the breeze picks up. It’s the time of year when the hottest winds blow, licking through her hair and over her skin. Like living in a kiln. Nat feels like she cracks a little more each year in the heat.

Still can’t give up her flannels, though. She’ll be cold in the ground before she wears anything else, ever again. Flannels and sensible sneakers or work boots, and that’s the farmer in her that just refuses to fade away.

Those years wearing suits and heels, she felt like she was playacting, wearing a costume picked out by someone else that didn’t fit. This is who she is, and she can’t be anything else. She wouldn’t be, not ever again, anyway.

“Evening, Nat,” One of the two men she is here to meet calls out, and she raises a hand in greeting. Paul is in his fifties, ten years or so older than Nat herself. He’s been living the lib life for decades, was the one she used to call fifteen times a week with a thousand crises she didn’t know how to solve. 

Now she’s the one the younger safehouse owners call, and it’s kind of funny… in a lot of ways, 42 still feels like 24 felt, only she’s less confused and gives a lot less of a fuck about fitting in or following the expectations set out for what makes a good life.

The other man standing next to him is younger, and doesn’t look up. That’s the one that Nat is really here to see. That’s the rescued runaway pet she’s here, in the end, to try and save.

Nat moves to the older man without hesitation and crushes him tightly to her in a hug, listening to his deep, rumbling laugh. “Paul! How was the drive? Was it good weather all the way?”

“Long,” Paul answers, sardonic as always, patting her back. “Started out rainy, as Washington likes to be up by the coast, and I don’t think I’ve seen an ounce of precipitation since we stayed overnight at the hotel. You’re starting to sound Californian, you know. That Midwestern accent’s slipping away.”

“After twenty years, you’d think it’d be gone.” She laughs, unbothered. “You’re grayer than last time, too.”

“Look, at my age, you’re just happy the hair is there at all, Nat. Where’s Jake? He didn’t want to ride along this time?”

“Hm? Home with the others. He’s talking about going back to college, and so he needs to study, and then we’ve got this new rescue who’s still healing up from some serious injuries he underwent, so Jake doesn’t want to leave... and I don’t blame him. Our newest rescue’s a flight risk in a big way. He wanted to send his greetings, though.”

“Well, tell him I said hi in return.”

“Will do. I was surprised to hear from you, I didn’t think you did out of state drives anymore.” 

Paul clears his throat. “I don’t. But we’ve got a situation, and we had a donor step in and pay for the gas and hotel money.”

Nat nods, her smile fading and moving back to seriousness, as she looks around Paul at the second man, just younger, standing hunched against the side of the SUV, clutching a single small backpack that hangs off one shoulder. “This is the situation?”

“Yeah.” Paul sighs, rubbing at his face with one hand. “This boy popped up at my door a couple of weeks ago, half-starved and pretty clearly abused, and he’s being strenuously hunted. We’ve had three close calls in a week. I had to make a choice, and… you know, I trust you to keep him safe, and I had to get him out of state, as far as I could go. I hate to uproot him when he hadn’t even settled yet, but…”

“Yeah, no, yeah, I get it. I just had a bed open up, Trevor moved in with some roommates in Nevada, did I tell you? All of them former rescues, too, so he’s got good support right there. There’s a coffeeshop owned by someone whose daughter is in the movement who agreed to train him as a barista.”

“Good, good. Trevor’s a good kid, I liked him. This one…” Paul takes a deep breath. “He’s sweet, Nat. But... he’s scared.”

“They all come to us scared,” Nat says, unbothered, giving a shrug and putting her hands in her pockets. “Any memories?”

“Nope. He’s blank, still. I haven’t… he hasn’t even been with us long enough for therapy. But, here, let me introduce you.” Paul steps back, and the young man with the backpack steps forward. He’s wearing the rescue uniform, more or less - sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, nearly every ounce of skin covered, only his neck and face visible, the backs of his hands. “He named himself a couple of days ago. This is Antoni.”

He’s like them all, in his way - nervous and wide-eyed, young and beautiful, afraid of her and drawn to her. She can see the signs without even having to consciously notice them - the mop of dark hair in bad need of a good cut, the fear in his eyes, the way he’s skin and bones even underneath the baggy clothes designed to hide a body that didn’t belong to him for too long. 

“Hello, m-ma’am,” The boy says, quietly, his dark, slightly feline eyes flickering from her to Paul, seeking reassurance or praise for making the right choice. 

Nat’s head cocks to the side, and she notes the way the boy flinches a little at the quick movement. He’s a skittish one - that usually means violence was a part of his daily life, and he’ll need to learn how to live without fearing it. “Does he have…”

“An accent? Yeah. Eastern European or Russian or something. Says he only speaks English, but... sometimes he speaks something else. He doesn’t seem to notice when he does it.” Paul turns, and holds out his hand, gesturing the young man forwards. 

Nat watches the boy give a wide berth to Paul’s hand, the way his long fingers clutch more tightly at the backpack strap on one side and the hem of his shirt. He turns to look towards the entrance of the subdivision that never was, watching for cars who might have tracked them, and Nat’s eyes widen - and then she forces her expression back to neutral before the boy can notice - as she sees the bright red, still-healing circular burn on the side of the boy’s neck. “Paul, are we dealing with-”

“Don’t know.” Paul sighs. “Hasn’t even been safe long enough to get a doctor out to give him a checkup. We’ve kept him moving from house to house to house without even taking a deep breath, so… he could use a rest.”

There are deep, deep shadows under the young man’s eyes, settling above his starkly carved cheekbones, and she… she can’t argue with Paul’s assessment. This is a boy who needs a week of sleep, a month of safety, to even begin rebuilding. “Fair enough. You go on ahead, we’ll give it ten or fifteen and then head out.”

“Perfect. I’ll give you a call in a couple days, see how he’s settling in. That sound all right?”

“Works for me.” Natalie watches the new rescue - Antoni - as Paul climbs back into his SUV, turns the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to nearly-silent life. Antoni doesn’t look back at him like some rescues do, desperate for a final glance. He only steps away, to give the vehicle more space, as Paul gives them one last wave and drives away.

The boy’s expression is unreadable, as Paul’s SUV turns left out of the subdivision, and he disappears into the growing night. She can’t tell if he cares, and she can’t tell if he doesn’t care. There’s nothing in his eyes at all but that same darkness.

Nat sighs. Well, they’ll figure it out as they go, or they won’t. “Okay, Antoni, my name is Natalie Yoder. I’m house mom for a safehouse you’ll be staying in from here on out.”

The boy looks back at her, and his dark eyes are fathomless and deep. “Okay, Natalie Yoder,” He says, and yes, that’s definitely an accent that softens his vowels, changes the consonants a little. She can’t quite name the accent, but… he definitely has one. 

“Call me Nat. I live down in the city-” She gestures behind her, vaguely. “And I’ve got a house there with some others like you, all right? We can keep you safe here. You did the first big thing, you walked away. Now it’s up to us to help you with the rest.” She holds out her hand, and - just as she thought - the young man jerks violently backwards, nearly tripping on himself, his shoulders hunched defensively nearly up to his chin.

Nat lets her hand drop.

“I, I do not… touch,” The young man says, clinging to his backpack strap. Nat lets her hand drop, watching the fear tightening his features, setting his jaw to trembling, flashing a hint of his teeth. “Please, please, I do not-... I do not touch.”

Nat puts both hands up in an I’m innocent gesture, taking one step back and then another, giving him some space to get around her. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, not with me and not at the house, not at all.”

The boy stares at her, and the sun is setting rapidly this far up in the hills, taking the hint of golden light that falls across his face and dimming it. “Please,” He whispers, and the sound barely carries to her. “Please, I, I cannot-... please-”

“That’s just fine,” Nat says, pitching her own voice lower, soothing. “You’re still fine, Antoni.” When he doesn’t relax, Nat swallows against her own reflexive distaste and adds, “You’re still a good boy.”

There it is. His shoulders relax, and he lets out a breath, an audible exhale, stepping a little closer to her. “I am? If I do not touch, still?”

Nat presses her lips together, wondering if Paul’s report that this new rescue was a Domestic holds water at all. Not that designations mean shit to people with no empathy and total control over another human being… “Yes, Antoni. You’re still good. Let’s get in the truck and head back, yeah? Can you get in the truck for me? I’ll stay right here.”

Simple, easy directions, and a safe distance. Antoni moves around her to the passenger side of the truck, and she gives him the time he needs, pulling her phone out from her back pocket to text Jake that the new rescue is here, and she’ll be heading home with him shortly.

Cool ok, comes Jake’s fast reply. Kauri’s a mess. Fever’s up and he took all his clothes off and got in bed.

Please don’t tell me your bed.

What do you think? He’s back on the couch and dressed though. I gave him something for the fever. Call Masood in the morning? This shit isn’t strong enough.

Nat knows how that feels.

By the time she gets into the driver’s seat, Antoni has himself settled, seatbelt buckled, hands in his lap, and… his backpack is firmly stuck between the two of them, right in the center of the seat, a slight barrier but a barrier nonetheless. 

He’s only been out for two weeks. He probably has some toiletries and a change of clothes or two in there, and that’s it. Maybe a book if he was allowed to remember how to read. But any way of giving himself space is better than no space at all.

When she reaches down to shift gears, Antoni flinches away, pressing himself to the inside of the door, his dark eyes locked on her hand.

“It’s a stick shift,” Nat says, softly. “I’m going to do this a lot. I’m not trying to touch you.”

His eyes move, reluctantly, from her hand to her face. “Please,” He says, and his voice is soft, and perfectly pitched. He’s been trained to beg, Nat thinks - she’s seen that before. She’s heard this voice before. “Please, please do not touch me. I will be good, whatever you need, just… do not touch.”

Nat takes a deep breath and rests her foot on the gas, cautiously moving out of the cul-de-sac and back onto the road, leaving the subdivision that never was, with its overgrown grass and brambles and the hot autumn winds blowing hard enough to rattle the dried-out leaves in the trees, behind. 

One new rescue, still sick from an infected wound, who can’t stop trying to touch everything that moves and has tried to talk Jake into bed at least three times - and one new rescue with an unmistakable cigarette burn on his neck who is so scared of being touched he starts begging before Nat can even get him home.

“This should be fun,” She mutters, not aware she’s even spoken aloud.

I am sorry. Antoni mouths the words, but Nat isn’t looking at him, and she doesn’t see him do it. As they drive down the hills towards the city, with its twinkling lights, he watches out the window, looking he hopes towards the north, wondering if he can ever apologize enough to earn forgiveness for the choice he made to leave the woman behind and run.

His right hand moves, pressing into his left arm, rubbing his thumb again and again over a certain spot just inside his wrist, rubbing right through the ribbed knit of the cuff of his sleeve, pressing and pressing and pressing until he feels the healing burn break open again, the bright flash of pain.

He relaxes a little, eyes closing, leaning heavily against the door as Nat turns on the radio and grumbles about what counts as classic rock now. 

It’s not that the ashtray, who has chosen the name Antoni, hates being touched.

It’s that he doesn’t deserve touch that doesn’t hurt.

---

Tagging @astrobly​, @finder-of-rings​, @burtlederp​ @slaintetowhump​ @moose-teeth​ @dhiabori @oofowouchies @doveotions​

[sweetestlamb]

Keep Bugging Me

Summary: Dosan and Dalmi try to get over each other and fail miserably. A story about cockroaches in love. 

Author’s Note: I find it really cute that Dosan is willing to run to help Dalmi at the drop of a hat despite the current state of their relationship and his misconception that she is now with Jipyeong but I get real tired when the efforts are one-sided for too long and the way things ended I definitely think that Dalmi should be the one to reach out to him, so that’s what this is. My imaginings of how things should go after today’s episode. ( I am basically ignoring the preview where it looks like Dosan runs away, nope we not running.) There was a lot more I wanted to incorporate but this took me a few hours today and that’s all I can spare so I hope you enjoy it, happy reading!

 With a long winded sigh that depletes her diaphragm she musters up the strength to catapult herself from her chair, sweeping her disheveled hair behind her ears once more before giving up and letting the strands do as they will. The sense of powerlessness lingers as she recalls her frantic phone calls and pleads for assistance, her heart had lodged itself deep in her throat each time she was turned down, although sympathetic no one was willing to drop what they were doing to help her. 

It hardly came as a surprise especially for someone like her who learned early that the world would knock you down and there were very few people who would offer you a hand when you were down. She chose to get up on her own and fight against the current of life but today’s fiasco only served to remind her that in the blink of an eye everything she carefully planned and created could come crashing down like an avalanche. 

Hearing his voice again had been just as overwhelming, the deep timbre just as soothing has it had been three years ago. Hearing it in that video did nothing to prepare her for the real thing, she tried to put up a strong front but she knew that she needed him and his brilliant mind; those capable hands. She didn’t deserve his help she knew that, her vicious words replaying in her mind all those years ago on what should have been a joyous day. Yet, just like all those years ago when he had no obligation to help her and it would not benefit him in any way he still showed up. Looking every bit as devastating as she’d seen him at the networking event. No, even more because this was the real Dosan showing up. Slipping in her computer chair easily as he threw out orders to the other members of his team, in all the important ways he seemed like the same Dosan but the air that surrounded him was no longer wavering, it was certain. He’d found his voice. 

She sighs rubbing her hand across her face again, hesitating before deciding. She picks up the forgotten jacket, the crisp scent of his cologne wafting up her nose and temporarily immobilizing her. 

Shaking herself free from her mental prison she grabs her purse and rushes to the door, phone already in her hand as she presses his name in her contacts. She doesn’t know where any of this is going but she has a reason to see him, she won’t let this opportunity go to waste. 

Closing the door behind her, she props the phone against her ear using her shoulder before she hears the tell-tale sound of  a phone ringing echoing down the hallway. With a gasps she sprints down the narrow hall before turning a corner and seeing him, his back is turned to her and his shoulders are slumped she watches with bated breath as he pulls his phone from the crevice of his pocket. He stares at it and after a moment’s pause he silences it and walks away. 

He straightens to his full height before shoving the phone into his pocket, swiftly exiting the building. 

“Dosan-ah.” She whispers to this retreating back but he moves further and further away until he reaches the door and she loses sight of him completely. More than anything she wishes she could apologize to him for those callous words she said all those years ago, if he’d felt a fraction of what she’s feeling right now she regrets her decision that day. She’s never regretted anything more. 

“Oh, Ms. Seo I didn’t know you were still here. You must have worked late. Please let me drive you home.” 

Sniffling and willing her tears not to fall she turns around, plastic smile spread across her lips as she greets Mr. Han. His dimpled grin does nothing to soothe the aching in her chest, but she pushes that aside and gently nods at his offer. 

On autopilot she walks to his car and opens her door before sliding into his car briefly she considers that her own car is parked in the garage close by but she’s too exhausted to drive right now. Her heart and her head equally throbbing. 

The ride home is relatively silent, Mr. Han attempts to engage her in conversation but her head is too filled with Dosan to offer anything more than one word answers and eventually he stops, turning up the radio instead. 

She misses his longing stares across the console, his own eyes wavering as she stares longingly at her phone for a call that won’t come. 

*******************************************************************************************

Maybe I should go back to San Francisco. 

The thought plagues him as he lays restless in his old bed, he’d entertained the idea of staying in a hotel until his mother had knocked him upside the head and dragged his suitcase inside the house before he’d even recovered from the blow. His smile had been blinding as she struggled up the stairs before he rushed to help her, easily lifting the luggage and wrapping his empty arm around her shoulder. He’d missed her like crazy, San Francisco had some much to offer but some things were irreplaceable. 

Now he’s having second guesses once more, he’d thought he was ready to be back in Korea, ready to see her again but he was wrong. There was something about his place that shook his confidence, made him the same bumbling idiot that he’d thought he left behind when he took off on that plane. It feels like he’s been wearing new shoes and now he’s back in the old ones, he hates it. He truly did not plan on seeing her again, she had made herself very clear all those years ago, he was not the Dosan from the letter and he would never be. 

He wasn’t smooth or thoughtful, he was just Dosan and though he wished that was enough it wasn’t. He thought he had accepted that, in San Francisco he did everything to forgot her. He never spoke about her or sent her the paragraphs he would write, he threw himself into coding with a painstaking fervor and he worked until he was successful and waited for happiness to find him. 

But happiness didn’t appear after he was named the most valuable developer of the year. 

It made no appearance when he bought a new car that he would have only dreamed about driving before. 

Still remained missing when he was offered another contract from one of the top companies in the world. 

But then he got that call and despite everything he said to his mother, trying to convince himself as much as her, his decision was simple. He had the ability to help her, so he did. 

The adrenaline made time slow down and simultaneously speed up, it wasn’t lost on him that every member of Samsan Tech was in the room all to help Dalmi, despite everything they’d been through she was still one of them. The strangest part had been the addition of Injae honestly, she’d spent so much time as Dalmi’s antagonist it was hard to reconcile that they were working together, that for once she would not be rooting against Dalmi. 

Everything had been going better than he ever imagined, she was as pretty as ever, gorgeous even while panicking and almost fainting it was a feat only possible by Seo Dalmi. But he had pushed that thought to the back of his mind, the black box cauterizing any hope he had of rekindling their romance. 

Their moment had passed. He wasn’t the one she wanted. What did he expect when the person who had actually written the letter was right there?  

It shouldn’t hurt this much but it did, It ached like a reopened wound. 

He’d only wanted to get his jacket back, the added bonus was seeing Dalmi but he wasn’t delusional enough to think that she had be waiting for him while he was gone. 

His blood still boils both from the phantom hand on his chest and the words that cut him like a knife. 

Stop showing up. You’re making us both uncomfortable. 

There had been more but those words stuck with him. 

Us. 

They were an “us”, close enough for jewelry that came in black boxes. It was time for him to stop fooling himself. 

The three years without Dalmi had been torture for him but evidently that was not the case for Dalmi. 

He was going to accept that. 

*******************************************************************************************

It takes him days to finally reply to her message and she tries her best to stay calm but her heart has missed the memo and instead triples its beats and almost pounds out her chest when his name flashes on her phone. 

Inhaling deep gulps of oxygen, she opens his message after ignoring for as long as she can- a measly ten seconds. Her pride has flown out the window it seems and she’s not particularly fond of relocating it. 

Don't’ worry about it. I have any jackets like that now. You can throw it out.  

She gapes at the words on the screen, not at all the response she expected and she clutches the discarded jacket tightly in her hands as if to promise the object that she will do no such thing. Scooping her hair into a ponytail she responds. 

No. It’s a nice jacket you should get it back. Where are you? I can bring it to you. 

She stares at the message long and hard, scrutinizing each word painstakingly. It might appear overzealous, too eager and the image of him ignoring her call still plays on repeat in her mind. Maybe he simply doesn’t want to see her, that is his right after the way she ended things. But logic alone is not enough to stop her fingers from pressing send, she doesn’t want to have anymore regrets.

Minutes tick by with no response and she worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she glares at the phone willing Dosan to answer. 

Please. Please. Please. Please.  

Despite her silent prayers, her phone is still and she contemplates sending another message although she has nothing else to say, terrified that this will be the end of their conversation. 

Then a message vibrates her phone, two messages actually. Mr. Han’s name also flashes on her phone but her fingers instantly open Dosan’s instead and a tentative smile makes its way across her face as she reads the message. 

I’ll be near Sandbox tomorrow. I will pick it up. 

Unable to control her emotions anymore, she squeals as she falls backwards on her bed, legs happily kicking as she hugs the phone close to her chest rolling side to side before she loses her balance and crashes to the ground. Her pained shout fills her room and her grandmother's voice rings out, “Dalmi, what was that? Are you okay?” 

Embarrassed but bursting with energy she shouts back, “Yes! I’m okay. I fell off the bed.”

There is no response and she giggles as she imagines the exasperated look that will run across her grandmother’s face. She may have lost her sight but her attitude and snark are still very much there. 

She knows that this changes nothing and she shouldn’t get her hopes up but still her feet drag her to her closet to find the perfect outfit for tomorrow, she will make sure to knock him off his feet this time. 

*******************************************************************************************

Dosan knows that he should have been more adamant about not needing the jacket, if only to avoid seeing her again. But he was weak and one rejection was all he could muster, he glances at his watch she should be arriving in a few minutes. 

Being back in the coffee shop they would often to go together is tugging on his heart strings but he fortifies himself, that was years ago. There is no use clinging to the past now, especially when he’s the only one doing so. He takes a hearty gulp of his iced Americano, desperately needing a distraction from his thoughts. When suddenly someone sits in the empty chair in front of him. Blinking he looks up and meets a face that does not belong to Dalmi. The woman now occupying the seat is pretty for all intensive purposes of the word with rosy red lips and long dark lashes. 

But he feels nothing but confusion by her sudden appearance and he voices that after his shock wears off, “I’m sorry that seat is reserved. I’m waiting for someone.”

Lifting a thin curved brow, the woman seems amused and no closer to leaving, “Oh? Is this person a girlfriend?” 

Dosan feels his cheeks burn at the blatant flirtations, over the years his ability to understand women has marginally improved with a success rate of 53% instead of the 12% before he left Korea. He has had many offers to date, none of which he has accepted. There was someone that hadn’t left his heart yet and it was impossible to make space for another with her so deeply wedged in there. 

At his silence she smirks now, “I’ll take that as a no. I’m not usually this forthright but you are probably the cutest guy I’ve ever seen.”

He made the mistake of sipping right at the moment and he chokes on the liquid as it lamely spills out of his mouth. 

Her giggles are light and melodic as she eyes him, “See? I even found that cute. What’s your name?”

He’s at a lost for words and that’s when the door chimes, and when he looks up he locks eyes with Dalmi. 

She is a vision in a plum colored business suit and her hair cascading over one shoulder. He almost forgets to breath. 

She walks to him immediately, his jacket folded over her arm. 

As she comes closer her eyes finally lock on the person occupying her seat, he watches them widen before narrowing into two thin lines. Then like a switch she stands taller and smiles facing him, “Dosan-ah, I didn’t know you were expecting company.”

His eyes dart back to the mysterious woman who is smiling but for some reason he remembers an episode of Animal Planet he watched while in the U.S about snakes that lulled you into a sense of comfort before striking. 

He begins to speak but his comment is interrupted, “I was just leaving. It was a pleasure meeting you Dosan-ah. Don’t be a stranger huh?” And true to her word she collects her belongings before opening a tiny emerald purse and extracting something thin. 

A business card. 

it is slick and modern with gold lines and her name printed in bold letter, Han Ji Yoon. 

Reaching across the table she deposits the card into his slack hand, her fingers lingering minutely before she draws away with one final dazzling smile she is gone, as suddenly as she arrived. 

The silence is deafening in her departure before Dosan hears the scratch of metal on wood as Dalmi reclaims her stolen seat. When he peers up from the business card he meets her smiling face, her eyes however are dull lacking the joy that her face is presenting. He wonders vaguely if something happens. 

“Who was that?” He shifts in his seat, shame curling in his belly before he realizes that he has no reason to feel shame. Dalmi does not care if other women are interested in him, it probably made her elated to see him with someone else. Proof that he was moving on and he would not be intruding on her life and her relationship. He would no longer be an inconvenience in her otherwise ideal life. 

So he answers honestly, “Just someone I met. She seemed interested in me and came over to talk.” 

Dalmi turns to look out the window as he sips on his Americano before he can offer to get her one she is speaking again, her lips barely open but the words are clear nonetheless. 

“How about you?”

He tilts his head, not quite following along with the direction of this conversation. He was unaware that they were on a level where they could discuss his potential relationships. More evidence that she is completely over him, the mere thought of her with Mr. Han is enough to sour his day but she is comfortable asking him about other women. 

“Well I am.....-”

He never gets to finish his sentence because suddenly Dalmi’s phone vibrates, buzzing on the table and instinctively he glances down at it and feels his heart pang. 

Han Jipyeong. 

She makes no move to answer it and he feels nauseous, she must know about his feelings and this is an attempt to spare him. 

He makes things easier for her standing up and nodding to her phone, “You should get that. I have to be somewhere soon. Thank you for bringing this.” With a slight bow he takes his jacket from its spot over the back of her chair and takes one step away. 

Her hand shoots out and captures his wrist and it feels like she thrust into his chest and squeezed his heart. 

“Dosan-ah you don’t have to go. I can call him back later.” 

He shakes his head, “No. Take it.” And with that he picks up his coat  and with a moment’s hesitation he also picks up the business card. 

He misses Dalmi’s jaw clenching as she watches him walk away, again. The vibrations of her phone falling on deaf ears. 

*******************************************************************************************

“Hello?” She blinks away tears and she tries her best not to sound like she is on the verge of falling apart. 

“Oh, Ms. Seo it’s me. I wanted to know if you wanted to get lunch together.” Mr. Han’s voice rattles through her speaker as she watches Dosan through the window. 

She spent all morning finding the right outfit and then perfecting her no make up makeup look, eager to see him despite her head reminding her that this wasn’t a date she was simply meeting him to return his jacket. Nothing more and nothing less. 

Then she’d seen him with someone else. A pretty woman, looking at him like he was an item on the menu and she was very thirsty. And the rush of jealous and irrational anger that consumed her made it clear that it was not possible to just be friends with Dosan. She couldn’t paint on a happy smile if he decided to date someone else, she wanted to be that someone. She wanted to hold on to those huge hands and never let go. 

“Ms. Seo?” 

She shakes herself from the memory, hurt still bubbling under the surface. She hadn’t gotten a chance to hear Dosan’s answer to her frankly invasive question but his actions were loud enough. She wanted to rip that card into pieces and stomp on the papery bodies. 

“Sorry, I was distracted. I can’t do lunch today. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Are you still coming over for dinner on Friday? Grandmother wants to know, you know she always makes your favorites.” 

At his agreement, she stands up and leaves. Maybe it’s time to move on, Dosan clearly has already. Once again leaving her in the dust. 

*******************************************************************************************

He goes on a few dates with Ji Yoon, and they have a good enough time together. She laughs at his jokes even though there are times her laughter is delayed and he wonders how genuine it is. She’s impressed by his car and the restaurant that Chul-san recommended, hmming at the perfect medium rare steak on her plate. 

But he feels nothing, no fireworks not even a spark but his friends convince him that it will come. These things take time, so he can’t just give up after a few dates. He pointedly ignores the voice in his head that states that his feelings didn’t need time to grow for a certain someone, they had hit him like a freight train and he just hung on for the ride. He doesn’t voice that out loud because that would be counterproductive in his journey to eradicate his feelings for her. 

So he goes through the motions and comes home each night with a sour taste on his tongue and a different face in his dreams. 

Then Friday arrives and he decides to stop wallowing in his own self-pity, ignoring his mother’s insistent statement that “he should just call her”, that is the absolute last thing he should do. He doesn’t want to be the person who stops her happiness, not again. 

But there is something he has to do and he needs to take a risk to do it. 

He called Saha earlier in the morning, pretending not to hear Chul-san’s voice in the background despite the fact that it was 7:00am in the morning and they had no reason to be together, now was not the time for teasing. 

He would make time later. 

She’d seemed suspicious when he asked about Dalmi’s schedule but ultimately told him the information he needed to know so with a heavy heart he rolled out of bed and hopped into the shower, he needed to see someone very special. 

Picking up the scarf and table mats he had knitted the night before he runs down the stairs, squeezing his mother in a one shouldered hug before bolting out the door. 

A woman he doesn’t know answers the door and he stands nervously, wringing his hands his head tilted toward the ground. 

“Yes? Are you here to see Dalmi? She is at work right now.” She apologizes and something about her feels familiar and he looks up and her eyes immediately inform him of who he is speaking to. 

Stuttering he stumbles over his words before finally getting out, “No. I am here to see...”

But a new voice joins them and instantly tears pool in his eyes when Dalmi’s grandmother comes into view, she stares straight ahead but there is no reaction to his presence. She can’t see him. Her world is shrouded in darkness. 

He gazes at her and wonders why these things only seem to happen to good people? Where is the justice in the world? 

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember me but-”

“Nam Dosan!” She shouts his name and his heart swells from her obvious glee, she steps forward and makes grasping hands in the direction of his voice and without pause he steps into her hold, allowing her to surround him in a warm embrace. 

“How could I forget you?” She squeezes him tighter and he doesn’t fight her hold. He’s been cracking apart at the seams her hold is putting him back together. 

*******************************************************************************************

Dalmi turns off her computer, stretching her arms high above her head. Her sister is still on her computer clicking away but she can’t stay another minute her brain has turned to mush. 

Another message from Saha flashes on her phone, once again asking her if she’s left for the day yet and telling her not to work overtime. 

Go home quickly. They don’t pay you enough for this. 

Their relationship has blossomed from where it started with Dalmi on her knees begging the designer to work with her. Their friendship had amounted in a fairly similar fashion, Dalmi bulldozed her way into the girl’s life after the boys left and after a new coffee dates they were inseparable. The sassy designer the only one who knew about Dalmi’s true feelings and how she had pushed Dosan away for his own good. 

“You did the right thing. But you’re an idiot. Why break up with him if it was going to hurt you so much?” 

That specific piece of wisdom had been regaled when Dalmi showed up drunk at the other girl’s house, banging on the door and crying until she was granted entrance. If looks could kill Dalmi would have been buried six foot under instantly but alas mental homicide was impossible so she lived to see another day. Their bond had been cemented in that moment, she woke up the next day with mascara lines on her face and a thick blanket thrown across her on the couch. 

“Here have some coffee and then get out of my house. “

Dalmi took the coffee but she didn’t get out, they spent the day together talking about boys and heartbreak and she pretended not to know who Saha was talking about when she mentioned missing someone, “a little bit, really just a smidge.” 

So she listens to her friend, probably her best friend not that she’ll share that moniker with the girl, she would like to keep some of her pride thank you very much. 

“I’m heading home. Today is family dinner, do you want to come over?” She inquires already knowing the answer based on her previous attempts but she is nothing if not resilient. 

Injae doesn’t even look away from her computer before answering, “No. I have a lot to do here. You go ahead.”

With a shrug she nods, collecting her belongings before walking out the door. 

When she pulls up to her house, she sees an unknown car and she wonders if someone came to visit her mother. Then bright lights fill her side mirrors and she sees the familiar sight of Mr. Han’s car pulling up behind her. 

Hopping out her car, she waves at him. Eying the bag in his hand, he always brings something despite protests from her and her grandmother. 

Before she can properly greet him, he asks “Whose car is that?”

She looks at the car again but nothing comes to mind, “I don’t know I was wondering the same thing. Let’s go inside and find out.” 

And so, they both walk to the door, Dalmi taking out her keys and prying open the door. She is greeted by boisterous laughter and slipping off her heels she enters her home, unprepared for the beautiful scene that welcomes her. 

Dosan is sandwiched between her mother and her grandmother, the latter holding his hand as he hangs on her every word. 

“Dosan-ah”

“What are you doing here?” 

She twists caught off guard by the vicious tone of Mr. Han’s voice, his eyes are glossy and hard as he watches the same scene. 

instantly Dosan gently pulls his hand out her grandmother’s hand and she greets them as well, “Oh Dalmi, Good Boy you’re both home. Dosan stopped by, why don’t we all have a meal together?”

The tension in the room is thick and Dalmi is lost as she watches Mr. Han glare at Dosan as if he has committed the greatest crime. 

With a voice barely above a whisper Dosan speaks, “No that isn’t necessary. I don’t want to intrude. Thank you for talking to me. I’ll fix all the bugs you mentioned.” 

Dosan simply stares at her grandmother for a pregnant moment before he makes his decision and he wraps her in his strong arms. Her grandmother immediately responds, hugging him back and whispering something only he can hear. 

Bowing to them all Dosan walks past her, never meeting her eyes regardless of her hard stare penetrating through his face. 

Before she can bolster up the courage he is already walking out the door. 

“I’ll see him out.” Mr. Han offers, following Dosan out the door and she watches breathless. 

*******************************************************************************************

“What were you thinking coming here?” He shouts at the developer’s retreating back, anger simmering in his blood. He had a family now and he wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from him. Dosan could have anyone in the world, why did he have to come back and ruin everything he had been building? 

He was finally to ready to tell Dalmi how he felt, no more cryptic messages and codes that needed deciphering, he was going to lay his heart on the table. Show her that he could be the Dosan from the letters, he could be her safe haven. 

“I just wanted to see her grandmother, I didn’t meant to run into her. I asked Saha she told me that--”

But he’s too angry to listen to reason, he just wants Dosan to go away, for good. 

“I thought I made myself clear in the elevator. You need to move on. I am the one she calls now when she’s in trouble. I am the one who comes to dinner with her family, that person is me. You are just a piece of her past. A past she has forgotten, stop coming around and making us uncomfortable. Don’t come here again.”

He realizes a second too late that Dosan eyes are shifted over his shoulder and when he turns around Dalmi’s angry tear streaked face fills his vision. 

“What are you saying Mr. Han? What is happening?” Her voice quivers, breaking on the last words and guilt rises as he looks at the clear betrayal on her face. 

“I’m leaving. I won’t come here again. You made yourself very clear.” Dalmi makes to follow Dosan but he steps into her path, needing to explain himself. He just needed a chance to bat. 

“Let him go.” He pleads with her but she snatches her hand out of her reach and stares at him with wet eyes. 

“Why would you say those things to him? What did you say to him in the elevator, are you the reason he’s avoiding me?!” He has never heard Dalmi raise her voice before, even when he was giving her harsh but honest feedback she was calm and accepting of his feedback. The woman before him is someone new, someone he’s never witnessed before. 

“Answer me!” He’s reminded of her screaming those same words at Dosan. 

Swallowing he finally answers her, “I like you. I like you so much it aches Dalmi, I was watching for three years. I thought you would start to notice me but... I don’t understand. Why can’t it be me? Why does it have to be him? I’m the one who wrote the letters, I was the one who comforted you.”

“You lied to me! You and my grandmother. You both lied to me and you created someone who doesn’t exist. You only wrote to me because you owed her a favor, it wasn’t real.”

“That’s not true. Maybe at first, but I grew to enjoy writing them. You comforted me too. I can be the person that you want, just give me a chance. I want to be with you.” 

Then impulsively he pulls the ring box from his pocket, flipping it open and thrusting the box at her.  It shines brilliantly from its satin pillow, diamonds twinkling in the moonlight. It was almost as beautiful as the receiver. 

He get his answer when she barely looks at the ring and instead looks out into the street as if Dosan will materialize again. 

So this is heartbreak. 

“I’m sorry. I should have given you an answer a long time ago. Thank you for those letters, you did comfort me during one of the hardest times of my life. I wish I could repay you somehow. But I can’t repay you with my heart. I’m sorry I really am.” 

He closes the box, putting his bat away. It seemed that even after getting a chance to bat he just wasn’t what Dalmi wanted. He’s never struck out before, the pain is crippling. 

Before he can reply to her rejection she is already bursting through the gate. The engine of her car loud in the dead of the night. 

“Yeong sil-ah what’s in front of me?” 

“A man in his 30s possibly, holding a black square box and crying.” 

He wipes at his face, his fingers come back wet. He didn’t realize when the traitorous tears escaped and he wants nothing more than to suck them back up. He feels pathethic. 

“Oh Good Boy, come here.” 

And he falls apart in the warmth of the first person to ever treat him like something worthwhile, his only family in this world. He clings to her as sobs ravish his body. 

*******************************************************************************************

He’s such an idiot, he knew better than going to her house but he still went and he was immediately punished. Of course, they had family dinners together. They were dating after all, it was natural that Mr. Han would be a welcome guest in their home. While he was the outsider. This was the way it was meant to be from the beginning after all, he had taken credit for someone else’s good deed. He deserved all the pain and suffering he was receiving now. 

Thankfully, his house is empty when he pushes open the door and he makes it to the couch before breaking down, hot tears leaking from his eyes as he recalls how comfortably they had come into the house together. It wasn’t the first time that much was certain. Three years was a long time. 

But it had been worth it, hearing how useful the app had been for her as she lost her sight, how grounding it was to have a program to help her during the transition after losing her vision. He wanted to cry for her loss but she was fighting so hard and finding the good in her situation, she had praised him until his cheeks hurt and he knew that nothing he ever made would make him as proud as Noongil. 

The ringing of his doorbell knocks him free from his thoughts and he presses himself away from the couch, expecting to see his father’s embarrassed face explaining how he forgot his keys and why have a son if not to open doors for him? He sighs in preparation for the conversation before choking on nothing when Dalmi’s red-eyed face appears behind the door. 

“Dalmi-ah.”

“Dosan-ah.”

They speak at the same time and then they are both still, gazing at each other in silence. 

He has the urge to pinch himself to make sure he didn’t fall asleep on the couch but before he can she speaks, “Dosan-ah, can I come in?”

Honestly he has no idea why she’s here. She had no reason to follow him. Maybe she’s here to second Mr. Han’s word. He can’t stomach that conversation a third time. 

But then she blinks and a stray tear escapes. 

“Please.” 

So he can do nothing but step aside and let her in. She has always been his kryptonite. 

She toes her shoes off before stepping into his house, looking around before her eyes land back on him. 

“I think we need to talk.”

It seems he was right. He tenses at the ominous words and lets out a deep breath, “No. I understand. Your....he was very clear. I understand now. I promise.” 

He can’t’ bring himself to finish his sentence, to name exactly what Mr. Han is to Dalmi, he would much rather not think about it and avoid them both until his heart admits defeat. 

Dalmi steps into his space, her hands pausing by his face before she softly holds his cheeks. He freezes, completely lost in her gaze as more tears stream down her face. She looks heartbroken and he almost feels angry, shouldn’t that be his expression? 

“Dosan-ah, I missed you so much.”

Punch to the gut. 

“I thought about you everyday. Every minute of every day. Every second of every minute. I was so happy you were doing well Dosan but .....I missed you so much. I wanted to be by your side.” 

He pulls his face out of her distractingly warm hands, his own clenched in tight fists on the side of his body. What is she saying? She has...someone. Why is she trying to confuse him, is this a game?

“What are you talking about? You broke up with me because I wasn’t him. You want him, he’s the one that you’ve loved since you were a little girl. I wasn’t enough. You told me I wasn’t enough!” 

He’s crying too now, all the pain he’s been containing exploding out as he shatters before her eyes. He can barely see her through the sheen of his tears and he rubs at his eyes, storming away from her in shame. He doesn’t want her to see the affect she still has on him, he should be stronger than this. 

“I lied.”

He stops. 

“I lied about everything. I just wanted to spend your birthday with you but you kept talking about the lawsuit and I knew you wouldn’t leave, you would think it was your fault and you didn’t deserve to live your dream. I pushed you away so you could have a chance at success. I never wanted the Dosan from the letter, that was a fairy tale. It wasn’t real. I know that now Dosan-ah, I want you. I thought I was strong enough to let you go, but it’s my one regret. I.... I love you.” 

During her speech Dalmi has been making her way over to him, climbing the stair he froze on before meeting him eye to eye. 

“Dosan-ah, I love you. I mean it. There’s no one else. Just you.”

There is no one else. Mr. Han doesn’t have her heart, he glances at her hands finding all fingers empty. As if she feels his gaze on her hand, she grabs hold of his trembling appendages. 

“Please say something.” 

 “Dalmi-ah, I love you too.” His voice cracks, bursting with emotion. 

A smile brighter than the sun stuns him as Dalmi falls into his waiting arms. He holds her tightly, never wanting to let her go ever again. If time stopped now he would die happier than he’s ever been. 

She nuzzles deep into his neck and he rubs his head against her soft sweet smelling hair, before he feels something plush land on his Adam’s apple. 

Her lips. 

He stiffens in their embrace and when she pulls back, her eyes are fixated on his lips. 

He missed her so much. 

“Can we go to your room?” Her voice is deeper and raspier than he’s ever heard it, the tone immediately going to his groin as he imagines her hoarse from something else entirely. 

He nods in acquiesce, taking her hand before they ascend the stairs together. Anticipation thick in the air. 

He doesn’t get a chance to be embarrassed about the state of his room because once they breach the doorway, he is bodily shoved into the door slamming it shut. Dalmi peers up into his eyes, searching his face before standing on the tips of her toes and catching his shoulder to yank him down and smashing their lips together. He stands still at first, lost in the wet sensation of Dalmi’s tongue swiping at his lips until she pries them open. 

She moans prettily as she licks into his mouth, sucking on his tongue as she slides her fingers into his hair moving his head to better fit their mouths together. 

He feels lightheaded as Dalmi steals his breath, he breaks their connection gasping for air only to be assaulted again, her lips suctioning the thin skin of his throat and there’s no denying his arousal now as his hard length presses into the zipper of his dress pants. When Dalmi accidentally bumps into the rigid line he jolts, twisting his hips away in shame and he waits for Dalmi to step away and slow them down. Things are moving astronomically quick, faster than the speed of light.  

His brain spasms when he feels a small hand molding around the length protruding from his pants. 

“Dosan-ah, can I?”

He doesn’t know exactly what she’s asking for but he’s too turned on to say anything but yes, yes, God yes. This has been the focus of one too many dreams that ended with disappointment and sticky sheets, if this is a dream he prays he falls in a coma and never wakes up. 

“Yes. Anything, yes.”

Her eyes glint dangerously at his words and then she’s slithering down his body, until her knees meet the floor.  His tongue is heavy in his mouth as he watches Dalmi on her knees, she’s so beautiful it’s unfair. Her lips are disastrously red and sore and perfect. 

“I thought about this a lot.” She whispers, wrecking him with her slow intentional movement. 

He gasps loudly as she drags the metal of his zipper down, unbuttoning his pants and tugging them down his waist. He closes his eyes at the sight of his desire tenting the front of his tight boxer brief, leaving very little to the imagination.

“Dosan-ah. Open your eyes.”

His body listens to her command easily, eyes opened wide as he takes in the view of Dalmi so close to where he needs her the most. 

Then as if worried she’ll scare him away, she gently removes his boxers. Inquisitively looking at the length that springs free, before a hand wraps around the wide circumference near the base. He groans almost collapsing from the immense pleasure that wrecks his over sensitized body. 

Without any warning she strokes from the base to tip, gathering the viscous liquid that has pooled and using it to smooth her motion, up, up, down, up. 

“Dalmi-ah, you don’t have to do this.” He moans out, he has to let her know that this isn’t necessary he’s just happy to be able to kiss her again and be the one who she turns to. This is more than he ever expected and honestly more than he can currently handle. 

She tightens her grip, tongue poking out the side of her wide lips as she closes the gap between them. She pops the moist head of his cock into her mouth and this time he does crumble to the ground and Dalmi climbs into this lap chasing him, then swallowing him further and he thinks of coding strings and the sequence of pi, as his balls tighten up and his end draws closer- embarrassingly fast. 

Emboldened by his gasps and whimpers she bobs her head, licking at his tip as she strokes the base with a corkscrew move that has his toes curling. 

“Dalmi-ah, I think I’m gonna....please stop. I’m too close.”

Humiliation battles with desire, as he feels his release rushing over him. Dalmi ignores his warning, sliding him further into the wet plush cavern of her mouth and he sputters open, overloading into her mouth as she struggles to swallow around the length in her mouth. 

Wow. 

Nobody has ever touched him before, he’d been offered countless times seen as an exotic treat in the California sun but none of them were tempting enough to make him forget the woman who was currently sprawled in his lap lapping at his spent cock. 

Dalmi sits up, wiping at the white droplets that escaped the seams of her lips and it’s a vision erotic enough to have his member jumping, ready for round 2. 

“Dosan, I need you to listen okay?” 

He’s unprepared for the business-like tone of her voice especially as she pushes his now flaccid cock back into his boxers. He blushes hard fumbling to do that himself but she smacks his hand away, “I got it. I did this, so I should take responsibility.” 

He blinks at the statement, before pinching himself. Hard.

She smirks at his pained cry, “Not a dream.” 

He blushes looking away with squinted eyes. 

“Dosan-ah. Your parents are home. I heard the door open when I first started.” She motions to his crotch and he is in too much shock to react to her words, instead he continues to lay on the ground with his legs spread. 

She heard his parents arrive home and continued. 

Who is this she-demon? 

“They haven’t called for you yet. But I’m sure they will soon. We’re going to go down and act normal okay?” 

Act normal. Like Dalmi hasn’t just sucked his brain out through his dick. Right. Sure. He can do that. 

“Dosan, my son? Are you home?” His mother’s voice travels up the stairs and he jumps up, haphazardly tugging his pants back up his waist and tucking his shirt back inside. 

Turning to Dalmi he asks, “How do I look? Does it look like we’ve been doing...things.”  

She raises an eyebrow at his word choice, before stepping closer and combing through his hair with her fingers. 

“You look....distracting.” At his confused stare, she licks her lips and tries again, “You look disheveled. Straighten your shirt and untuck your shirt. You’ll look more relaxed. Actually change those pants completely, they have stuff on them.”

He looks down at himself and sees the sticky spot on the waist of his pants, dammit. Red-faced he walks to his closet, pulling an identical pair of pants from a wooden hanger. He starts to take off the soiled pants before remembering that Dalmi is still in the room.  When he looks over his shoulder, her eyes are already on him as she unabashedly watches him undress. 

“Dalmi-ah.”

“Hmm?”

“I need to change.”

“Okay, go ahead.” 

They stare at each other, unblinkingly. 

Then there is a sharp knock on the door. 

“Dosan-ah, your mother and I heard talking in here. Are you home?”

Throwing caution to the wind, Dosan rips off the pants and hops into the fresh pair. Leaving the shirt untucked as suggested by Dalmi and running a final hand through his hair. With a nod at Dalmi, whose eyes are shining too brightly while he’s on the verge of a heart attack. 

Finally pulling the door open, Dosan rubs his neck sheepishly as he greets the expectant faces of his parents. 

“Oh Dosan-ah, doesn’t the car outside belong to the pretty CEO? The one you wanted to date? What was her name again, Danmi? Dalni?”

Before he can correct his mother, who he knows for a fact is aware of Dalmi’s name as she had mentioned the girl just days ago. If he was brave (stupid)  enough he would glare at her, but as it is all he can muster up is a pleading stare. 

Brazenly Dalmi presses the slightly ajarred door all the way open now coming into view. His dad’s eyes widen in shock and then pride, the last time he saw that look was when he told his parents he would be going to San Francisco. 

His dad looks even prouder now. 

While his mother looks....smug. 

“Hello, my name is Dalmi. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She bows low at the waist and he looks away from his parent’s stare, not ready to answer any of the questions in their eyes. 

“You are here very late. I imagine you both were working on something very important.” 

His mother throws them a life preserve and he grabs on to it. 

“Yes! Yes, Dalmi-ah had some questions about her business that couldn’t wait. She’s heading out now. I will walk her out.” Dosan is still a coward, he is man enough to admit that. 

Dalmi easily goes along with his lie, “Yes. My company is working on a self-driving car. I had some questions about the coding. I apologize for coming over so late.”

Both his parents perk up at the mention of her project, his mother quipping that if Dalmi’s project is a success then she will no longer need to take her driving lessons. 

They finally allow Dosan to escort Dalmi out the door only after they have set up plans for dinner the following day, his mother adamant that they formally have a meal with the CEO that Dosan is helping. He almost groans at her lack of subtlety. 

Once they are safely outside, Dosan breathes a sigh of relief. 

“I’m sorry about my parents. They can be.... excitable. If you would rather not come to dinner tomorrow, I can come up with an excuse for you.” He offers, not wanting to scare the girl off before they can fully restart their  relationship. 

“What are you talking about? I’m looking forward to dinner with my future in-laws. I want to hear more about the pretty CEO you want to date too.” 

He hangs his head, groaning as Dalmi giggles dragging him into another kiss, he lifts her up holding her tightly.  

This time, he’s never letting go. 

*******************************************************************************************

“So, do you believe them?” 

Her husband smirks, almost clapping in glee. “Not a chance.” 

There shy little boy wasn’t so shy or little anymore. 

[mommymooze]

Grand ReOpening

Hubert x Reader 5,613 words

descriptions of violence, possession, Modern AU

You work at the newly remodeled and soon to be reopened Museum of History in Enbarr. A huge fire caused devastating damage to the old building, over half of the structure had to be rebuilt from the ground up. Donations pour in from private collectors in the form of money and items to replace those lost to the flames.

You finish arranging the items in the display finally locking the door on the huge glass case. Some items donated were questionable. Everything in this case is legitimate, you reassure yourself. You have already weeded out the fakes, the near perfect imitations. The director asks you how do you know? You explain to him the materials available for crafting such items, known specifics from inventories found in the locked away historical books, too delicate to be placed upon display. Sometimes you tell him you just have a feeling deep inside based on your experience and knowledge of the period. You can’t tell him the truth.

Whenever you touch one of these items, you close your eyes, the history of the item and its owners flash through your mind. It is easy to bypass the collectors, the ones that shove an item in drawers or hang it on a wall as a decoration for years at a time. The imprint left on the item when it was handled, touched, used is what you are able to see most clearly.

The small silver dagger in the upper left of the case. Its card reads: Dorothea Arnault owned this fine silver dagger. It is small enough to conceal in multiple places upon the body. Perhaps she may have concealed it in the curls of her hair for a ball or tucked it away in her corset or bodice.

They write the cards to romanticize the exhibit. People want a good story, not simply a display of stuffy items from long ago. Who would want to read a card stating she kept this particular dagger tucked into a pocket in her left boot for many years, which is exactly what you saw when you touched it.

Metal rimmed reading glasses belonging to the Imperial Spy Master, Hubert von Vestra. The card: Perhaps he wore them while brewing one of his poisons or when translating encoded messages during the war. Hah. He did not obtain these until fifty years old and mostly wore them when reading a book that struck his fancy prior to retiring for the evening.

Ferdinand von Aegir’s opera glasses. The Card: Fine mother-of-pearl covered opera glasses belonged to the Imperial Prime Minister, Ferdinand von Aegir. He may have used them when going to the Mittlefrank Opera house to watch Dorothea perform. Nope. Mother gave him these when he was but a child. Once he was older, after the war, he purchased a pair that much better suited his face, these were much too small for him as an adult.

Oh my, you’ve lost track of the time again. You scurry out of the building, making certain all doors lock behind you. Making it home just in time to change clothes, freshen up, you head back out for the Museum’s Grand Reopening Gala. Thankfully you are not on the front lines, that is the duty of the Curator, the Directors, those on the board and anyone responsible for schmoozing the rich guests, many who donated to the cause, keeping them happy. You put on your headset and have three laptops at your disposal, ready to answer any questions the staff has regarding particular items on display. You are literally fielding questions left and right. To the left are the searches for the director’s queries, to the right the Curator. In the center you follow on the security monitors where they are standing helping you to identify which particular item they need additional information about. Well past midnight you are finally allowed to leave. Security escorts you to your car and you head home for a well deserved sleep.

Two days later is the Grand Reopening. The tickets sold out three months in advance. The most devoted history fans always line up first to observe and breathe in the milieu. Listening to them mill about the displays, pour over the cases of preciously preserved objects is a joy for you.

“Look, this mirror belonged to the Emperor herself. I wonder what these items could say if they could speak. Did they reflect her face as she finished her makeup before one of the grand balls at the time, I wonder?” You knew the answers to some of their ponderings and could not hide your smirk.

A very tall dark haired male catches your eye. Dark suit jacket, black satin shirt, very nicely tailored. His jet black hair blocks the right side of his face from view. His fine leather gloves barely hover over the display case as he observes the items contained within. It suggests a hint of cosplay? Or perhaps he is attempting to channel the spirit of Lord Vestra? Your eyes sweep about the room regularly, spotting him in several different locations, each time it appears he is studying items that had belonged to the man he resembles. You wish you could see his face more clearly, however his back is turned or someone is in the way. You quietly move towards the end of the circuit the floor plan leads you through, close to the guard by the exit. There are three items of clothing belonging to Hubert this person would probably pause to examine, perhaps you can obtain a good look at his face then.

Finally, you glance through two panes of glass to see the face of the man. There is a strong resemblance to Hubert. Not exact, of course, but the cheek bones were close, the eyes are a similar shade of green. His skin tone is much darker, not nearly as pale. Your attention is taken away as the security guard a few feet from you is asked a question by an older woman.

Your focus is then called in front of you as a polite “Ahem” is noted. Standing directly before you and requesting your notice is none other than the tall dark gentleman that you have been secretively following for the last 30 minutes.

“My apologies. Not to be a bother, but I believe that you work here and would like to ask your opinion about something.” His long slender gloved fingers reach into his breast pocket, pulling out a golden box about the size of a cigarette case, barely a centimeter thick. His thumb activates a button on the case and the lid pops open revealing a dull yet clean looking folded yellowed cloth. The initials H.v.V. are sewn in black thread close to the bottom edge. The cloth is folded in a different manner than it normally lies in order to display the initials on top.

You raise your right hand up to the level of the box which is even with your chin. Touching the material with an index finger you feel the violence connected with the item, fainting straightaway.

You find yourself in the employee’s lounge with two security officers and the strange man. He is seated at a table nearby, you are located pleather covered chaise lounge, reclined. Bolting upright on the lounger, you gather your senses about you. The security officers called for EMT’s to check you out. Fortunately, you were unconscious for maybe a minute or less. You flush bright red and blame it on ‘female issues’. They insist that you remain and be checked out.

“I am terribly sorry. I assisted in bringing you back here and now that I know you are well cared for, I shall excuse myself.” The stranger stands to leave. You reach in your pocket, thrusting your business card toward him. He completes the exchange by handing you his. As he returns to the public areas of the museum the EMT’s arrive and begin their 1,000 questions.

After every possible vital statistic can be taken and recorded, they finally leave you to yourself and the security of the museum. They nod in agreement that it was most likely ‘female issues’ and you should increase your iron intake. Once you finally convince your boss that you are well enough to leave, you get in your car, grab some drive thru dinner and head directly home.

A warm cup of tea, comfortable clothing and your soft couch beneath you, you take a deep breath and begin to relax. You mull over what happened when you touched the handkerchief. That sort of reaction is expected when you touch weapons used in the war, used for self-defense, etcetera. You did not expect that from a handkerchief. The cloth was normally soaked in a strong smelling agent and held over the face of his target. Too early for ether, most likely mandrake root. Normally it would cause the target to quickly become unconscious, occasionally it would cause illness along with and possibly but not always death. One of Hubert’s weapons in the darkness, when silence was required.

You pull out the business card. Vincent H. Vestraegir. Hmmm. Possibly from the line of descendants. You enter his number and name into your phone, then text it.

You: I gave you my card at the museum. Do you still wish to discuss the

item?

Waiting for approximately 20 minutes you hear the notification tone.

V.H.V: Absolutely. Perhaps meet for coffee? Thursday or Saturday?

You: Thursday. Crown Café, 10am, after the morning rush has cleared.

V.H.V: Agreed. See you then.

Working on your day off, as usual. You log onto the Museum’s Employee website to check your email, the top notification is from your supervisor telling you that you will take a few days for yourself. The success of the reopening is greatly due to your hard work and you will take the rest of the week off. See you Saturday.

Well, well, you may get some sleep after all. After a fitful night of restlessness and strange dreams you awaken Thursday morning feeling overtired. It would be in poor taste to cancel the meeting, so you get up, showered and dressed. You decide that since you are doing this basically for free for this man, you have no obligation to him and refuse to dress up. Wearing your hair in a messy pony tail, GMU sweatshirt and jeans you head to the coffee shop a bit early. Hopefully you can get a full cup into you and wake up before he arrives.

You order a coffee double shot and finish it quickly. Bathroom, order new regular coffee, take a seat and it’s 9:50am. In the corner of your eye you see him walking past the café’s front window. This makes you smile, but you are not certain why.

He takes his seat across from you at 9:59am.

“Good morning” you greet him casually.

“Same to you.” He says, placing his phone face down on the table. He wears a long sleeve black turtleneck, fine dress pants, and black gloves.

“Please tell me what history you know of the handkerchief.” You request.

“Skipping pleasantries, straight to business, eh?” His lip curls at the edge of his mouth on the right side. “See if I pick you up off the floor the next time you faint.”

You roll your eyes.

He clears his throat. “There are several items that have been kept within the family. I do not understand the meaning behind them, why they are kept in separate or specific locations within the family residence or what significance they mean to particular members of the family. My family history appears to go through highs and lows, the most recent low is turning around, getting back toward recovery.” He pauses, enjoying his coffee for a moment. “My mother recently passed and I am now in possession of the family estate. I have not had much time to go through the property, my work is my priority. I have no intention of living there and have considered selling it. There are few things I plan on keeping for myself, the rest may go to the museum should you be able to find a use for them. I noticed at the exhibition there were some unusual items on display that I do not normally recall seeing in museum exhibitions.”

Quaffing your coffee, you take a breath. “I am sorry for your loss. The museum is changing its thought process. People are more interested in seeing the everyday life of those from history. The differences are always blown out of proportion, romanticized, too large to be true. The current exhibition is displaying the things of everyday life, to show these were not only persons held in high regard, but also humans with human needs, feelings, emotions. I agree with some of this, however there are personal items that I question if they would really want to have displayed.”

Mr. Vestraegir thinks on these last remarks, savoring the remainder of his caffeinated beverage. “Why are you concerned about the feelings of the dead? It is not as if they can come to you and complain.”

“Let us say this afternoon you are struck dead by lightning. The funeral is held in three days. Open casket. You are dressed in a white tuxedo, no gloves upon your hands. How would you feel about that?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Preposterous!” He blurts out. “I would insist on having gloves on and I have an ample amount of perfectly adequate black dress suits.”

“Why should be concerned with the feelings of the dead again? Why is it that you wear gloves? The weather is certainly warm enough they are not needed. You are extremely familiar with wearing them.”

“Hmm.” He nods in understanding, rubbing one gloved hand upon the other.

“You do have me intrigued. It is difficult to find pieces of history still standing today. It has been hundreds of years.” You wonder aloud.

“The original structure has been incorporated into the current structure. At one point walking through a corridor it feels as if you are stepping backward in time. Quite an unusual feeling.”

“When do you plan on returning there next?” You ask, thinking of your full calendar.

“In the next day or so. I want to go through some things personally prior to the movers bringing the more recently purchased furniture here.”

“I would like to accompany you to the estate. If you like, I can drive us there this afternoon. I need only to pack an overnight bag and a few items for research. My guess is you do not have internet there?”

“No.” He answers. You would have to use your phone. Not all of the house has electric, so you may wish to bring some flashlights or long extension cords as well.

Fantastic, less disturbance to the original structure you ponder. “I can pick you up in an hour if that suits you?”

He nods and it is a blur from there. Rushing home, packing, picking him up at the duplex at the address he provides. Stashing his items in the trunk you are headed to the highway.

Vincent as he prefers to be called, tells you what information he knows of the Vestra Estate. He had lived there for the first years of his youth. He and his father did not get along well and mother abided by fathers wishes. By the time he turns 12 he is sent to boarding school, graduating straight into college. Finishing his degree in law minor in accounting, he is an atty and CPA/Accountant.

There may be a few books at the property that have a bit of history in them, he’s never had much interest.

A brief stop at the store close to the house, you purchase groceries. Simple premade sandwiches, a few frozen dinners, drinks and snacks. As you wait in the car you suddenly realize you have driven far from the city with a perfect stranger, not even leaving a trail of where you are or who you are with. The perfect setting for a murder. How stupid! You quickly drop an email to your landlord, advising of your destination and how long you expect to be gone. You hesitate and do not leave Vincent’s name, that would only lead to more questions from her as she is determined to set you up with a nice bachelor.

Another 30 minutes and your car is pulling into the long driveway, the large house comes into view. He unlocks the door to show you in. He really doesn’t know much of the history of the place, it had never interested him. The two of you unload the car and he has you place your things in his mother’s old bedroom, located in a newer section of the house that has electric and running water. He goes back to the kitchen to work on groceries.

Beds are so personal. You take a breath and complete the touch. Trying to keep your mind focused on the edge of your vision. Fortunately, it is a newer bed and does not take long to complete. You will be fine sleeping here.

Vincent invites you to the more modern kitchen and the location of the food, coffee, and sundried items. He has a few things to attend to, leaving you free rein of the house to explore. He will get to specifics later tonight or in the morning.

He is absolutely correct about the corridor, they had built on to the house in multiple stages. You enter through the most recent and modern additions. The corridor seems to reach back further and further.

You slowly walk down the walls touching each section. Perceiving people passing through the corridors fill your vision, styles of clothing changing as you progress. You touch the doorframe of a small bedroom in an older portion of the house. The faces of the occupants quickly parade before you. You will the flow to slow, a young girl clings to a doll, nodding with tears in her eyes. Then the next owner, a young male perhaps ten years old with hair to his shoulders, citrine eyes. His brows are furrowed, and he is shouting, but you cannot hear what he says, anger written all over his face, his brows furrow deeply as if he argues with someone just behind you. The door appears as he is slamming it shut. Was that Hubert? Could this have been his room, you wonder. The room is decorated with old wallpaper with a feminine print. The coat of dust on the few furnishings reveals that the room has not been used or tended to for many, many years. The curtains on the window are of a thin lace, possibly being held together by the spider webs covering them, the bottom inches shredded threads.

The mantel of the fireplace and baseboards are the only pieces painted. The rest is left to the beauty of the original wood and bricks. Running your hands over the bricks at the edge of the fire box you see countless hands stacking wood, lighting the kindling, flames beginning to burn bright in the small firebox. Finally, you see older gloved hands, incredibly long fingers waving as fire bursts from their fingertips into the kindling. There are gaps until much younger but long spindly fingers cast magic into the wood creating flames.

Touching the firebricks making up the fireplace you reach out to the bottom bricks. On the right, the furthest one back is loose. A bit of maneuvering and you pull the block from its wedged in position. Three bottles lie on their sides. Without thinking you reach in to grab them. Hubert’s face comes into view, laughing with the bottles in hand. These are definitely his poison bottles, contents long dried. His handwriting on the side, coded of course, one is foxglove, the next mandrake and last is nightshade. A small paintbrush is also in the hollowed space. Removing the item provides visions of blades and darts being painted, and then the interior of a teacup.

Diabolical bastard. You admire him and hate him both at the same time. The Empire would not have won the war without him, however you did not need to firsthand witness his secrets. Sitting on the floor you catch your breath. The daylight is fading and you need to go back to your bag and set up lights and a flash light.

The room is different in the too bright halogen light. Rubber gloves in your pockets, in case something more lethal is found are at the ready. You begin touching the floorboards with your bare feet. You will notice if any has a special significance of course. Only after moving the bed and the rug that is beneath it do you find something. (the bed is approximately 300 years old, mostly for children, same with the rug.) A pocketknife blade at a corner edge and the board lifts quite easily. Several items are stashed between the supports for the floor. Gloves on and flashlight in hand you reach in and remove the items, placing them in a large clear plastic bag. You replace the floorboard and return the bed and rug to its normal position.

“Keeping yourself entertained?” Victor chuckles as he enters the room.

“Found a few things. Haven’t had a chance to look them over yet.” You say as you take the halogen lamp to the next room to inspect.

“I can make it easy for you as far as what few things I know.” He offers. “You’ve already been under the floorboard there. Next the master bedroom.” He turns that direction and you follow him with the light, dragging the extension cord behind you. He steps until he hears a hollow spot at a floorboard by the head of the bed, taking out his pocket knife, he lifts the board out of place, then steps back for you to see.

Bringing the flashlight you see a jacknife and several gold coins. You pick them up with your gloves on and place them into a separate plastic bag.

“That is all I know. I found the floorboard when I was much younger, so of course I had to stomp on every floorboard after that listening for hollow sounds.” He grins.

“Quite logical, actually.” You nod. “As a boy I am surprised that you left them here.”

He coughs. “There were more coins, I did leave some.” He looks away, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You both decide to stop searching for the evening. You’ve not had dinner yet and tomorrow is another day. Besides, you want to investigate the floorboard items further as well as show him the items found behind the fireplace.

Dinner is quickly tossed into a microwave, coffee brewed and laptops pulled out onto the kitchen table, connected to the internet via the cell phones. Both of you sit quietly, only forks scraping plates or fingers tapping on keyboards for an hour.

Closing your laptop, you place a soft towel on top and the first bag with the items from the fireplace. Wearing a glove on your right hand you take each item out of the bag, placing them on the towel.

“There were owned and handled by Hubert. I believe them to be bottles of his own poison. The brush is used to paint it upon his weapons, mostly daggers.” You relay to your tablemate.

Vincent’s eyes go wide. “You’ve just seen them. How can you swear to their authenticity?”

“The appearance matches what you would find from the time. The writing on the bottles closely resembles his handwriting from the samples we have at the museum, and the code is correct for three different poison types. The brush appears to be animal hair that would be used at the time, stuffed into the end of a tube and then crimped to hold the hair tight.”

Taking a small box of plastic bags, you pack each item individually. As you reach for the third bottle it tips over and rolls off of your laptop. You grab it with your left hand and read its history. Your eyes focus as Vincent’s fingers are snapping in your face.

“Come on, are you all right?” He questions.

“Um, yes.” You shake your head a bit, placing the item in a bag and back into the larger bag with the other items.

“Are you epileptic? You spaced out there. Please let me know if you have health issues.” Vincent pleads, the concern is heavy in his voice.

“It…it’s hard to explain.” You want to tell him something. You’re never this open with people, but he makes you feel like it is okay to let him know.

“Go on.” He says waiting patiently.

“I can see some things related to a history of an item just by touching it. I see who used it, how long ago it was when used. Yes. I must be crazy.” You nod quickly after your confession.

“I want to see it work.” He frowns, two wrinkles between his eyebrows get deeper. He stands and goes to a drawer, pulling out a large spoon and a knife. Both appear to be silver, one more tarnished and scraped that the other. He places them on the laptop.

You grab the spoon. You see his mother’s hand stirring long yellow beans in a pot before pouring a creamy sauce onto them, then it changes to different people, an older stove, another older stove. A black ceramic stove stirring gravy in a large heavy skillet.

“Your mother liked to use it for cooking yellow beans. It has been here for several hundred years, at least 300 based on the dress of the last man who had a beard was dressed.”

He looks down at the table and thinks a moment. “She loved wax beans. They look like green beans but taste a bit different. She would cook them in a sour and creamy sauce. She said the spoon was in the family for a long time. Now the knife.”

Taking the silver knife in your fingers it shows she used it nearly every day to put butter on rolls with jelly. There was a lot of time in the drawer, different users. Clothing styles changed. The age of the silver butterknife is closer to 450 or 500 years old.

You share your findings.

“I’m still not convinced.” Vincent reaches into his shirt, and pulls out a gold necklace with a ring hanging from it. A simple gold band with its necklace is placed with hesitation on the laptop. As he places it there your hand brushes against his glove.

“Your gloves are four months old, purchased at Baers and the saleslady had red hair. Just saying.” You clear your throat and take a sip of now too cold coffee.

Reaching for the ring your fingers touch it softly. Your mind is filled with its memories. He has it with him all the time, takes it off for nothing, then you see the crash, blood everywhere. You fall headfirst into the table. Vincent helps you sit back up in your seat as tears are streaming from your face.

“I…I am so sorry for your loss.” You choke and gasp as the tears fall from your eyes. “M-motorcycle crash. Five years ago. He would bring you little yellow flowers he picked from the side of the road.”

Vincent’s face lost all color. A tear fell to his cheek as he nodded. He took the necklace back and put it around his neck.

After a while he took the cups to the sink, “I think it is time to sleep.”

You nod and head to bed. For hours you lay there, unable to sleep as your mind plays back the last nine years of Vincent and his husband’s lives, together and apart. You should have refused to touch it, but you wanted him to believe. And now…now. You shake your head, turn over and stare at the wall again.

The alarm on your phone wakes you. You want to flee, leave this place. It is one thing when someone shares with you tragedies in the past, it is another to have them thrust upon you. You push yourself out of bed. You can make it through today. Once in the kitchen the coffee has just finished you reach to grab a cup. Seeing the two in the dish drainer, you carefully pick out the cup you used yesterday.

You find a note on the table that he has gone for a walk and to go through the boxes he has left in the living room. Grabbing a muffin from the counter you head to the boxes. Wearing glove you begin. A few interesting books, certainly a possibility to go into a collection, many of them simply too modern or of no interest to the museum in their current condition. A box of random items haphazardly placed into a wooden box. Some woodworking tools, chisels, a pocket watch that did not work but was several hundred years old. A coffee grinder, you would definitely need to check that out. Taking that and the watch you sit at the kitchen table. One by one you experience the history of the items. The pocket watch came from approximately 1300. The coins from the floor and jack knife were owned by Hubert’s father, Marquis Vestra. The coffee grinder, broken by a child, had belonged to Hubert at one time well after the war, during his retirement.

The bags from the child’s bedroom revealed two very different groups of items. Vincent himself had placed items in a pocket next to the ones he had originally discovered. Thinking they were a time capsule, he created one of his own including a letter about his 9 year old self, a green plastic army man named Lt. Schwartz, a yo yo and a few baseball cards. The other group of items were from a young girl. A cloth doll with a few wisps of hair still left on its head. A tiny gold ring. A slate and stylus used for writing letters and numbers, the wax long eaten away. A small carved wooden horse.

Deciding to see if there is anything in the last room as well as completing your inspection of the master bedroom, you take your half cup of coffee with you down the hallway. Coming to the end of the corridor, you hear a sound behind you. Turning slowly, you see the countenance of Hubert von Vestra walking toward you. Outfitted in his full Imperial dress uniform, his large stiff collar extends several inches up from his shoulders. A ruby red brooch holds down his cravat. You drown in the sound of leather creaking from his belts on his clothes and the swish of the heavy material of his jacket. His boots create a deep a thunking sound echoing down the hallway.

“Finally.” He says with great satisfaction. “It has been an eternity.” His right hand, void of gloves, reaches out to you, fingertips softly stroking your cheek. His pale skin is cool to the touch, it has always been that way, you think to yourself. He opens his arms welcoming you to be wrapped within them. Burying your nose in his chest you deeply inhale the familiar scent of coffee, parchment, ink and dark magic. How you have longed for this.

“What of Vincent?” you ask him, looking up into his beautiful yellow-green eyes sparkling down at you.

“We have come to an agreement.” Hubert chuckles.

The vibration of his chest, his deep laughter sends chills down your spine. After waiting nearly a thousand years to have him back in your arms the reward is so worth it.

Epilogue:

Each lifetime you searched for him, but your journeys were fruitless. This girl was the most cooperative, the most willing. You found her worse than Bernadetta in some aspects of her life, especially social. She shared this body, watching from behind, creating stories in her mind. You take control and immediately begin your plan. The museum holds his property, perhaps by touching these items you can call to him. Send a signal that you are here. But they would not let you touch the things that belonged to him. The display items you could reach, touch, were not his, only beautiful recreations. Even items held in storage at the museum were not his. You had developed a spell to obtain the history of an item by touch.

It was awful that you had to burn down part of the museum, but you needed access and you needed legitimate items. What people wouldn’t do to have their name on a placard as a donor. From the items donated several very real items were found. You found yourself touching them frequently, just to catch another glimpse of him. Your cohabitant could not take the violence, she caused you to faint so frequently. Perhaps now she may finalize her agreement with you, being released and then you and Hubert can finally have the lifetime together that was stolen from you during that horrible war.

You spoke often of death, war does that. Both agreed to move on and live the best life they could. Finding out Ferdinand was at his side made you happy, especially since it made him happy. Still, he had promised that no matter what, he would find you again and finish what was started. And so the rest of your lives begins…

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hi, Moosh! (New OP writing blog! Yay!) Can I request HCs for Law, Killer, Kid and Robin confessing to their crush after a dangerous situation? Maybe a battle or something? And their reaction when their crush reciprocate their feelings? Thank you!! Good luck with your blog! ♡

(With these all except Law's (which I'm ify on) I'm proud of but I still hope you like it!💙)

Law

Now Law could admit most times he was in fact a stubborn asshole.

Not that he'd ever admit it out loud though.

Most of his 'loner' 'no I have no emotions, get away from me' attitude came from a dark place of deep riddled trauma and trust issues.

He promised himself from a very young age that he wouldn't let anyone else in, that everyone around him was destined to fail and die at some point. No matter  what he was determined to stick to his guns, use people as he needed and accomplish his own set of goals.

Yeah? All of that? All of that was thrown out the window once you came into the picture.

You were brought to him with anyone's pleas and begging to let you join the crew, and with about twenty against one, it seemed like he had really no choice.

He couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was about you, was it how you treated the others? How you seemed to smile no matter how dark the outcome looked? How your eyes seemed to light up every time you looked at him the feeling in his chest would-whatever it was, he knew what he felt would only end up into trouble in the end.

With every passing day it seemed he learned more and more about you; your relationship-more like lacking relationship-with your parents, your desire to see the sea, your hobbies, and your dreams. Law's not a forgetful man, everything of importance you tell him he makes a mental note of in the back of his mind.

Everything about you kept tugging on his heart, he couldn't get you out of his brain and until that day he tried his best to keep it suppressed inside until he couldn't anymore.

It was supposed to be a very short trip to that island, pick up the supplies and necessary information about the area then leave.

Oh how things went wrong so quickly.

The crew was split up into two groups: one led by Law for tract an information broker, and the other led by you to fetch supplies and return to the ship by sundown. Everything started out alright, Law got the information he needed in a reasonable time, just not the exact info he sat out for, instead he quickly found out that the town was actually ran by a pirate crew that pulled the strings of the town's mayor, and they were not happy the Heart pirates were on their territory.

His group ran into the market in search for your group, once they found you, you were already heavily battered while in combat, and Penguin was holding a very injured Bepo.

It didn't take a lot of Room and Shambles to quickly cut the confrontation short.

Once back on the Polar Tang you and Bepo were brought to the Medical ward. Bepo was treated to a few stitches and banged up limbs while you were diagnosed with a condition to blunt trauma to the head and a few removed bullets. Once Bepo fell asleep, Law brought up a chair to set next to your bed as you stared up at the ceiling.

"How are you feeling?"

"Woozy."

"That's normal, you just need to rest it off."

He took a slow sip of his coffee before setting it on your nightstand.

"Penguin told me what happened. You were the first one to mindlessly charge at them. Do you realise how foolish that was?!"

"They already had their weapons drawn, the intentions were already established. There wasn't any reasonable way to deal with them, if there was I would have done it."

"That's no excuse to run in blind, (Name)!"

You closed your eyes as you remained silent. Law taps his foot a couple of times before letting his face fall into his hands.

"Look...you were protecting the crew. I get it, but…" You looked back at the surgeon.

"But what?"

"Risking your life isn't worth it!" A look of disbelief emerged on your face and you sprang to sit up.

"So what?! They can all die instead?! Law that's sick!"

"That's not what I meant-"

"Then what do you mean?!"

"(Name), please-"

"No! What do you mean?! Are you saying my life is more-"

"I don't want to lose you like the rest."

A true look of confusion fell on your face. What does that mean?

He looked up at you, tears barely visible in his eyes.

"I lose everyone I care about. I don't want it happening to you too."

Oh.

Oh shit.

"Don't get me wrong, I want nothing happening to the rest of the crew too, but-" Law shook his head as he rose out of the chair onto his feet. "Forget it, I'm making it worse and you're not in the condition-"

You caught his hand.

He looked back at you, completely conflicted. You gave him the smallest yet loving of smiles.

His heart wrenched.

Stop it. Stop what you're doing right now. His legs felt weak as your grip on his hand softened. He gently sat by your bedside, you moved closer to rest your head on his shoulder, his breath felt uneasy as it rattled his chest, until your fingers started to trace his.

Touch by touch he felt himself start to calm down. He hesitantly looked back at you, his eyes widened at how soft and loving your eyes were.

Corazon, please forgive him what he's about to do.

One hand lifted up your face as your expression turned into confused shock. What was he doing? Oh. Well now he was kissing you.

Yay…

Once he pulled back he nudged his head between your shoulder so you couldn't look at his face. But you hear the struggled out sobs. You wrapped your arms around his sides, silently encouraging him to let it all out.

He couldn't help how he felt about you, but he didn't want what happened to everyone else that was in his life happen to you.

No he wasn't going to let it happen to you.

Killer

Despite his name, we all know Killer's a sweetheart.

He's not only a sweetheart, but he's level headed, very knowledgeable, isn't afraid to take care of his captain's bullshit, and he's absolutely head over heels for you.

Kid swore that his first mate talked about you more than anything else. Sure it did make the captain upset that you had his attention more than he did, but he was happy his friend had found someone to make him happy.

It didn't stop the gagging motions, the jokes and teasing, and the occasional: "Just fuck already!" outburst.

To Kid, it was very obvious that you liked him too, and very the very impatient man child he is, decided enough is enough and gathered the test of the crew to come up with a plan.

And not the: 'get them in a room alone to talk about their feelings' bullshit either! No! If his friend was going to get the love of his life he was going to do it fun and memorable.

And fun and memorable to Kid means dangerous.

Kid and crew purposely pissed off the group of marines in town.

They split up and purposely left you and Killer on your own defenses together.

Once the bullet grazed the side of your head, Killer picked you up (in those big beefy arms of his) and quickly dashed you off into the next alley, the following marines missing the two of you and continuing on down the street of town.

Once he sat you down on a box, he touched the area around your wounds, you instantly hissing in pain granting you a quick quiet sorry from him.

He looked around for something to use as a temporary bandage to stop the bleeding until the two of you could get back to the Victoria Punk.

A lightbulb went off in his head as he reached for his shirt.

Nope not like a: 'let me rip off a piece of my shirt to apply to your injury' a fucking: 'let me take off my whole deadass shirt and let me wrap around your head.'

You sat cheeks scarlet as he struggled to get the shirt off over his head without taking off his mask. Once he succeeded, he shook his blonde locks back in place behind him before he went to work tying it around you.

Once he finished he took a small step back, admiring his work.

Oh god the shirt smelled like him (that's going in the memory bank)

Killer took a step to look out of the alley before cursing to himself, going back over to you.

"Marines are still in the street, I don't see much of an opening." He whispered.

"Then what do we do?" You whispered back. He scratched his head.

"I don't see the rooftops being a safe getaway, I suggested we either wait here for Kid or for an opening."

You nodded, honestly you didn't want to get back to ship because then Killer's shirt bandage would have to be removed, and you wanted as much time committing it to memory as possible.

Killer slumped next to you on the box, your eyes darting to avoid him.

Time crept by, Killer asking how you felt from time to time, you told him you were fine but you did feel woozy, he seemed to be able to tell and would start to check for more openings more often.

You eventually looked over to him (trying to ignore the shirtlessness) and gave him a small smile, he looked back at you for a few long moments before looking to his lap, letting out a sigh.

"You know I trust you right? Like a lot?" You nodded.

You gave the blonde a nod.

He let another sigh leave his lips as he slowly and hesitantly went up to take off his mask. He looked back to you for the first time truly face to face.

Your heart caught in your chest as your mouth fell agape.

The desperate look in his eyes seemed to tell you he couldn't tell what your reaction meant and went to quickly put the mask back on, but you caught his hands before he could. He looked back to you as you lowered his hands to let the mask fall into his lap. You smiled.

"You look very handsome, Killer."

He felt all possible words caught in his throat. Your eyes softened as your hands left his and slowly lifted to touch barely his face, the look you gave him asking for consent.

He felt his face be held by your hands. Your fingers rubbed and took in every bit of him, he let his eyes close as his face either warmed up to your touch or in embarrassment, or both he couldn't tell. Once he reopened his eyes, you were much closer than before.

Moving on his own, it was only after the two of you parted that he realised that your lips had met. With that realization, his eyes shined in bewilderment. You giggled as you pressed your forehead against his.

With your arms wrapped around each other, taking each other in did you not hear the yelps and screams of the marines behind you (somehow. Because the power of love or smth)  neither did you hear the bootsteps.

"Hey guys! It looks like we were about to miss a whole show!"

The two of you quickly tore apart as Killer quickly scrambled to put his mask back on before turning around to see his captain laughing next to Heat and Wire who made their way next to him.

Killer sprang up, heat cheeks hidden behind the mask, as he helped you onto your feet. The sight of the vice captain's shirt on your head seemed to increase the captain's laughter.

Kid laughter died down as he watched as his friend pulled you by the hand in the direction of the ship. He knew his plan would work, why wouldn't they? He is Captain Eutass Kid after all. Knowing this would make Killer happy, sparked a sense of pride in him.

Doesn't mean he would never joke about the time he would've possibly caught the two of them possibly fucking in an alley though.

Kid

There is many things Captain Eutass Kid is, but being stupid is not one of them.

Sure, reckless. But not stupid.

And he sure has a fucking temper.

Him and the rest of his crew sat quietly (ha, really? Okay Kid.) minding their own business in the back of the bar.

You sat next to him, drinking away having a nice laugh with Heat when this fucking idiot showed up.

He put an hand on the back of your chair and introduced himself as Captain Dickface (Dicksen) a captain whose made himself a big name (Kid never hear of him) and would just 'love' (fucking gross) to buy you a drink and for you to come over to drink along him and the rest of his men.

You turned down the offer (because you're fucking smart, that's why you're a part of his crew)

But here's the kicker.

As Captain Dickass went back to his table, Kid heard the names he called you under his breath.

So, Kid politely introduced his metal fist, to Captain Dickpiss' face.

And that's how he 'accidentally' destroyed the whole bar in a brawl.

The moment you brought him to the infirmary you cussed, yelled, screamed in every possible way how idiotic what the captain did was.

He sat on the bench, holding the ice pack to his face as he let you raise your voice at him (because you got special privileges)

You rolled your eyes at the amuse look on his face.

"What Dicksen said didn't bother me. What you did was totally unnecessary."

Kid scoffed. "Yeah right, like I was going to let anyone mock a member of my crew and get away with it!"

"You broke his nose."

"Dickface deserved it!"

You sat down next to him on the bench, gesturing him to let you see his hand. He hesitantly let you take ahold of it to start taking care of his bashed knuckles. With each dap of alcohol swab, he hissed.

With clenched teeth he studied your gentle facial expression.

What he did, yes he did because your a member of his crew (and no one fucks with a member of HIS crew) but also because he-what's that word Killer told him was the word for how he felt? Likes! He likes you.

Doesn't mean he has any clue what to do.

Once you got started with wrapping up the captain's hand, did Kid really think about things. He likes you? What was he supposed to do? Killer said something about sharing feeling but fuck feelings.

You stood up off the bench and went to go to your desk, telling him he could leave now.

You two were alone.

Kid figured, you know what fuck it? People press eat each other's faces to show 'liking' each other right? Why not now?

The ice pack that was originally on his face was left carelessly on the bench as he got up on and made his way toward you, you looked back about to repeat your early notion he could leave but found yourself surprised when he roughly turned you around to catch your lips sloppily to his, teeth clanking  together.

A big shitty eating grin doubled your confusion as he pulled back.

"Kid what the fuck what that?" His grin dropped.

"What do you mean? That's the gross way people show they like each other."

Instantly, the statement got you rolling which the redhead found himself angrily taken back.

"Why the hell are you laughing?! This is the way I'm showing you I like you, you fucking moron!"

You smiled as your hands found themselves on his face with a: "Oh, Kid." The captain raised an eyebrow in confusion before your lips softly met his.

Oh. Okay. His heart feels light, that's new.

When you pulled back, his bewildered eyes brought you amusement, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Ya mind doing that again?

Robin

Robin is a talented woman with a lot of things.

Keeping things hidden about herself is one of them.

From the very moment she joined the Strawhats, she promised herself she wouldn't get attached. But as time went on, with Jaya and Skypiea...things got harder.

She absolutely refused to let innocents get caught up in her running from her past. She even refused to say anyone's name, just by their title just to lay double on that.

But in a moment she couldn't exactly pinpoint, she longed to be a part of this little makeshift family. And out of all of them, you made things so much harder for her.

You were so calm, level headed, smart, kind, passionate-just everything you did caught her attention.

Which made things even more difficult than it already was on Water 7. With every plea you cried asking her why she wanted out, she could feel her cold lonely heart break more and more. 

And when she cried out her plea to live for Luffy, the look on your face made her sob even more. She wanted to continue to journey on sea, and she wanted to continue to live to see your dreams come to fruition as well. 

It was after her talk with Aokiji that she set off to find you. She found you out on the very edge of the party, you sat against a wall with your bottle in your hand as you avoided her gaze. 

You barely spoke a single word to her since the crew escaped Enies Lobby. She stood in front of you, her eyes half lidded and her hands at her sides. 

"Aren't you missing the party? The rest of the crew's celebrating mostly for you anyway." You said, voice hoarse. 

Robin shook her head as she went over to stand next to you, her back hitting the brick. 

"It's fine. I am glad to be back though." 

You chugged down more of your bottle, the alcohol burning your throat. Tears pricked your eyes. 

"For the longest time on that train, I thought I was going to lose you, Robin. I still…"

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured. "You all are stuck with me." 

You looked up at the smile she gave you. You looked to the bottle in your hands before gesturing it to her. 

And that's how the two off you ended sitting in each other's arms, taking turns sipping from the bottle of sake, laughing at all the past events the crew found themselves in. 

Robin found her fingers playing with your hair as you leaned into her chest, her slow breaths reminding you that she is alive and with you now. 

Alive. 

You closed your eyes as you nuzzled against her, tears threatened to form in your eyes. 

"I'm so glad you're alive, Robin." 

Robin felt taken back. 

That's right...people actually wants her alive. 

Her finger in your hair stopped as you looked up at her first assurance. With one slow movement, Robin pressed her lips to yours. 

With your heart thumping in your ears and your head suddenly thrown up into the clouds your hands tangled themselves in her raven hair. 

Once Robin pulled away, she sobbed her arms tightly around you as she pulled you close. 

"I'm so glad to be alive." 

And she promised she would always be. For you and the crew. 

She was a Strawhat. 

[ezekielbhandarivalleros]

Food Addiction

Paring: Jake Tweneboah (MC), Jackie Varma and Bryce Lahela (Mentioned)

Summary: Jake finds out about Jackies eating problem

Taglist: @princess-geek @gamechoices-player @secretaryunpaid @arnikki-2406 @choicesficwriterscreations @riana-drarry @treasure-seeking-elf @lisha1valecha

Jackie Varma, from her charming smile to her curvaceous body, had always been one of the most eye-catching Doctors of Edenbrook though this title swapped hands now and again with the slim, leather-clad, Bryce. When Jake had first seen the perfect curves and inviting eyes of Jackie, and the fiendish, good looks of Bryce, he hadn't known which he liked more. Working at the Hospital had brought him closer to Jackie than he ever thought possible.

However cosmically lucky Jake felt that he had somehow managed to score Jackie as his life partner, there was something clouding his vision recently. Jackie wasn't perfect, and perhaps the worst of her imperfections, as Jake had recently discovered, was Jackie's eating problem.

Though she knew logically it wasn't smart, she had taken during the reopen and had been unable to quit since. No matter how hard she tried to hide it or how many times she tried to quit, the only thing to take the edge off her energetic, high-stress life was a nice meal at the nearby fast food place the end of the day before heading hoe. (And often after lunch, she sheepishly admitted).

"I just feel like myself when I'm stuffing my face," said Jackie.

"Babe, that's not true at all, in fact in some weird way it's kinda... hot," he added, looking a little lost in thought as Jackie screwed up her face in confusion. "But that's not the point Varma the point is, I know we can help you quit, together."

"How?" said Jackie in a small voice.

"Replace that urge with something else!"

"More Eating?" exclaimed Jackie, her eyes lighting up.

"No, an existing urge doesn't count," said Jake.

"Awwww..." whined Jackie, disappointed. "Well... what's something I love to do, that I could do all the time without any consequences?"

"How about Keeping a diary?" suggested Jake. "You can wirte about eating without, forcing yourself to eat"

"That's true," said Jackie. "I ate a ton in college, and I never gained a pound. I suppose, genetically, I'm very fortunate to have this body."

"So am I," said Jake with a wink.

Two weeks later (Jake’s Idea didn't work and Jackie picked up her eating old eating habits, for a while Jake didn't see a problem in it as she didn't do it much but after a while it started to take a toll on Jackie's life)

"Hey Jake, do you think these pants shrunk in the dryer?"

Jake looked up, and was momentarily shocked to see a very tight pair of Jackie's regular work pants, squeezing her quite a bit tighter than they usually did. An inch or so of hip fat was spilling out from either side Trying not to make his gaze

Holy crap. I think she's actually starting to get fat. Jake had not expected this, and clearly neither had Jackie.

"So, just out of the blue... how much have you been eating lately?" asked Jake nonchalantly.

"Oh, not a huge amount really... I had a few extra lunches over the course of the day and it totally worked! I haven't eaten that much since last moth!"

"A few extra lunches?" said Jake , astonished.

"Yeah, with some snacks in between to hold me over. Well, plus that cheesecake I picked up last night."

"Cheesecake?" said Jake quizzically. "I don't remember a cheesecake."

"Yeah, I ate it all," said Jackie, now blushing a little. "All by myself. I suppose that was a lot. I guess I really can put away a ton of food if I want to! I just wish it didn't stick to me!" She bent down to get am undershirt shirt from her drawer, and Jake noticed a larger than usual display of hip fat puffing out over her waistband as she did so. He peeked curiously around the side of her, and was met with a very unflattering view—the beginnings of a very soft belly spilling way over her waistband as she bent back up to put the shirt on.

"Jeez, do you think this shrunk too?" said Jackie, frustrated as she pulled the tight white undershirt over her body, looking down at the rather unsightly little bulge that was now visible stretching out the front of the shirt. "If I didn't know better, I'd say those extra lunches were getting to me!" She laughed. "But I'm pretty sure I haven't gained anything. I would know. Nope, the calories just roll right off me! You don't think I've gained anything, right Jake?" She sounded almost desperate, like she was trying to convince herself.

Jake took another glance at the soft new flesh pushing at Jackie's waistband, and gulped. "Nope! You look... slim as ever!" he lied through his teeth.

Well, whatever works, right? Happy wife, happy life.

One month later

"Jake, I'm a little worried about Jackie," said Ethan stoically. "Her early departure from work today is highly uncharacteristic."

"Well, she said she was feeling a little sick," said Jake. Probably because she'd already had two very greasy lunches by noon, he added in his head. But Ethan didn't need to know that.

"Still, that's highly unusual for her," Ethan insisted.

"What do you mean?" said Jake.

"You'd better go and check on her," said Jake. "She has seemed quite stressed recently, and, if you'll excuse the indecency, eating rather a lot."

"What? She's not getting fat," said Jake quickly.

"I... didn't say she was," said Ethan with a confused look.

"Oh," said Jake. "Did I say... getting fat? I meant, uh... getting fine. She's getting fine, just fine!" He turned his head to the side and shook it, as if to say What the hell did I just say?

"Well... be that as it may," said Ethan slowly, squinting at Ethan, "I thought you would leap at the opportunity to leave work early."

"Thank you Doctor! Jackie doesn't know I'll be coming home early. But she likes a good surprise, so I don't think I'm going to tell her."

"I'm not sure how the lack of information makes anything better," said Ethan in an almost robotic tone, "but if you must. Give her my regards."

"Will do!" shouted Jake over his back, already turning to run back to the bus stop. "I'm gonna have the happiest wife in the world!"

Jake giggled excitedly as he walked up to the front door of his house, knowing Jackie would love a good surprise.

"Honey, I'm home!" called Jake in a thick sitcom voice, as he grasped the door handle and pushed.

What Jake heard next was a scream of surprise... and what he saw, he was not prepared for.

A bloated, frosting-smeared Jackie Varma was laying on the couch by the open window, wearing nothing but a pair of panties, holding a donut in one hand, and a in the other. On the table in front of Amy was a mostly-empty box of donuts, and it was fairly clear this hadn't been a box she was slowly working on—she'd bought them and wolfed them all down that afternoon. Chocolate frosting was smeared across Jackie's lips and dotted across her breasts and stomach. And now that he was looking at her stomach, exposed to the world and filled with donuts, Jake finally couldn't deny that it was noticeably fatter than it had ever been. Even in her reclined position, it bulged several inches outward into a round globular mound, and it was even beginning to jiggle a little bit every time she hiccuped or burped... both of which she was now doing.

Jackie stuffed the rest of her half-eaten Boston Cream donut into her mouth. She sat up, which Jake couldn't help but notice caused her newly engorged stomach to bunch up into several ungainly rolls, and continued in a rather embarrassed and hopeless tone, "I definitely was not and stuffing my face with donuts..."

"What in the..." Jake began, but Jackie cut him off. She coughed hoarsely, a cigarette smell still ripe on her breath, and gestured vaguely towards the box of donuts. "This happened."

"Oh, babe," said Jake, trying to figure out how to handle this bizarre situation. "

"And now I'm fat," she moaned sadly, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Oh honey, you're not—"

Jackie interrupted him with a raised-eyebrow look.

"Okay, so you got a little fat," said Jake delicately. "But honestly? I'm into it. I love you, big or small."

"You really mean that?" said Jake.

"I really mean it," said Jake. "Hell, seeing you like this is kind of hot. It's such a change from your normal strict self."

"That's why I hate it," said Amy quietly.

"Oh come on," said Jake, picking up the last remaining donut. "Here, just one more."

"I can't, Jackie, I'm already fat..."

"No way," said Jake "You're beautiful at any size. And you love donuts."

"I do love donuts," admitted Jackie, her eyes glinting. "Okay, one more."

"Once all this is done, I'll find some way to help you fix this chapter of your, you hear me?" Jake leaned over and give Jackie's open belly a kiss.

[callumsmitchells]

got your spell on me (ao3)

"Ooh, Callum!" Kathy shouts out, as if she's suddenly just thought of something. 

Callum turns back around to face her, stepping out of the way of the opening door to the cafe, allowing a customer to walk in, out of the early morning cold. She's holding out a leaflet, when he looks back. "What's that?" He asks, putting his take out sandwich in the same hand as his styrofoam cup of tea in order to take the leaflet from her hand.

"It's a fancy dress competition." She says, and jots down the new customers order on a notepad. "Over at The Albert, for Halloween. A grand to the best dressed couple." 

Callum lets out a soft chuckle. "A couples competition?" He asks. "I can't see Ben wanting to dress up, if I'm completely honest."

Kathy waves out a hand, dismissing the idea. "Don't take no for an answer, or he'll have me to answer to instead."

He chuckles at that, knowing that Kathy definitely won't let Ben tell her no. "I'll let him know after work then." Callum grins, edging closer to the door. "See you later."

"See you later, love." Kathy calls out, watching as he exits the cafe and walks past the window. 

It's much later on in the day, when Callum walks in through the front door, closing it quietly behind him. He kicks off his shoes, his feet aching in them, and pads through to the living room, opening up the top three buttons on his white shirt, exposing his neck and a sliver of his chest. Warm lights illuminate the room, the curtains drawn to a close to keep the cold out and the warmth in. The television is playing, and Ben's spread out on the sofa, sitting upright with his legs reaching the other side. He looks up at Callum, and holds his arms open, allowing Callum to flop down onto the sofa too, fitting perfectly in Ben's hold. 

Ben runs his fingers through Callum's hair gently, brushing it out of the way of his eyes, whilst his other hand rubs up and down Callum's bicep, attempting to warm him up from the coldness outside. "Tough day?" Ben asks, and nudges his lips down against the crown of Callum's head, pressing a soft and welcoming kiss there. 

Callum hums. "Already looking forward to the weekend." He admits. "Is that bad?"

"I don't think so." Ben says softly. "You're helping others all week, you deserve a couple of days break to yourself." 

Callum turns his face slightly, sinking further into his boyfriend's body, the warmth of Ben enveloping him entirely. He presses his lips to Ben's chest, and lets out a gentle sigh. "Have you spoken to your mum today?" He asks, and strains his neck so he can look up at Ben. 

Ben shakes his head. "No." He says. "Should I have?"

"I went to the cafe this morning, wanted to get something for my dinner." Callum says. "She's doing a couples costume competition at The Albert, for Halloween."

"Nope." Ben says, defiantly. "Not happening."

Callum pouts, pushing his body up so he can see Ben's face, but properly this time. His arms shake under the weight, his body exhausted from his day at work. "Oh, come on babe! It'll be fun. We never get to do anything like that." 

Ben wraps his arms around Callum's body again, hands hot to touch, a stark contrast to the bitter cold outside. It sends a shiver down Callum's spine, and Ben knows it. "I don't want to dress up." Ben says. "I just want to take Lexi out trick or treating, go for a few drinks with you, and then come home." 

"Please?" Callum asks, fluttering his eyelashes in Ben's direction. "There's a cash prize, a grand to the best costume."

There's a pause, and Callum knows Ben's thinking about it now. He knows him too well. "Normally people would start off by making that point." Ben admits, and there's a smile that's starting to grow wider and wider across his face.

"Is that a yes then?" Callum asks, pushing further up Ben's body so that they're face to face now, with barely centimetres separating their lips.

Ben's eyes drop from looking at Callum's eyes to his lips, and back up again. He gulps slightly, before speaking. "On one condition." 

Callum cocks his head to the side, and raises an eyebrow. "Which is?" He inquires.

"I pick the costumes." Ben finally says, and he moves his body so his face is inching ever closer to Callum's lips, their thighs pressing against one another, and Ben's certain he can feel Callum's heart beating in his chest. 

Callum hums softly, and his eyes drop to Ben's lips, and he allows himself to fall down slightly, his lips brushing against Ben's gentle ones. It's soft and warm and inviting, and Callum really can't believe his luck that he gets to experience this every single day for the rest of his life. The kiss is over before it's begun though, because Callum pushes up, and it takes everything in him to not let out a soft chuckle when he witnesses Ben instinctively chasing his lips and bursting out in a whine when he can't reach without moving further. "You can pick the costumes." Callum says, and he shifts his body so that he's balancing on one arm, leaving his other hand free to unbutton Ben's shirt, exposing his chest. "But I refuse to go naked, so don't even think about it."

Ben's hands roam around Callum's back, until they finally rest on his hips, tugging his shirt out of his belted trousers, exposing his skin and a tiny portion of his boxers. "Don't worry about that babe, those costumes will just be for the bedroom. I'm not letting anyone else see you like that." He says, possessively. 

"Oh will it now?" Callum teases, and leans down to take Ben's lips between his own once again.

Ben grins, and pushes his hands further up Callum's back, directly onto his skin now. He hums in his throat, his head dizzyingly light and there's a childlike giddiness within him as he tries to rack his brain of costume ideas, but Callum's body against his proves to be a distraction he can't seem to complain about. 

---

Callum's sitting on the sofa, watching as Ben ties Lexi's hair up. "I told you, you should've done that first, before spray painting her hair. Lola will kill you if it doesn't come out by the way, she's got to go to school tomorrow!" 

"Lexi." Ben says, leaning forward so his lips are closer to her ears. "Tell Callum to shut up, or I won't be going anywhere with him."

Callum rolls his eyes and picks up a cushion, throwing it in Ben's direction, though it brushes against Lexi's hair. "And if that gets stained bright green I won't be the one taking the blame!" 

Lexi giggles, and jumps up once Ben's finished with her hair. 

"Go and get your shoes and coat on." Ben says, and cleans his hand on a spare wipe.

Lexi bounces off, excited at the idea of going trick or treating. 

"It's come off my hand easy enough." Ben says, holding his hand out to show Ben. "It'll be fine, it said one wash would take it out." 

Callum looks up at Ben and smiles, reaching his hand out to link with Ben's, fitting together perfectly. "Have you sorted out the costumes anyway?" He asks. 

"All done." Ben grins, and leans down to press a gentle kiss to Callum's lips, which Callum accepts. "Everythings in our bedroom, but don't get ready until I'm back. I want to see your reaction. We'll be about half an hour, tops. She's too excited to not rush around every house."

Callum hums and presses a kiss to Ben's lips once more, letting go of his hand. "Have fun." 

Lexi runs back into the room. "Can we go now?" She's holding out her plastic pumpkin bucket, a bright beaming grin on her face. 

Ben chuckles, and leans down to kiss Callum's forehead, a fleeting goodbye kiss.

"Don't forget to get me some sweets too, Lex." Callum says.

"Are you not coming too?" She asks. 

"Got to stay here, in case anyone comes trick or treating here." He says, lifting up a box of sweets to his side. 

Lexi accepts that, but it's clear she would like Callum to come trick or treating with them too. She skips out to the corridor and Ben shrugs on his coat over his shoulders. "Half an hour." He mouths, and Callum nods.

The door closes shut moments later, and Callum's left in the quiet, until there's a tapping at the front door and he's forced into standing up.

--- 

It's just over half an hour later when the door reopens and the cold swirls in. "Only me!" Ben calls out, and then pokes his head around the opening to the living room, a beaming grin across his face. His nose is bright red from the cold air, his hair wild and all over the place. "I dropped Lexi off at Lola's, so we can get ready and go. Have you looked?"

Callum shakes his head. "I haven't been upstairs." He admits. "What did Lola say about Lexi's hair?"

Ben walks up the stairs, and he doesn't need to look back to see if Callum is following him, because he can feel his presence hot on his tail. He chuckles softly. "Didn't stay around long enough to find out. Said it was your idea."

"Oi!" Callum shouts, mouth opening in shock. 

Ben turns to face Callum, his hand on the door handle, waiting to push it open. "Are you sure you want to go tonight? We could just stay in." 

Callum smiles softly, and leans down to press a gentle kiss to Ben's lips, intoxicating. "We're going." He adamants. "We've already told your mum to expect us anyway." 

Ben hums. "Go on then." He says, as he opens the door, allowing Callum to walk in and see the costumes.

Laying there, on their bed, is a police uniform, adorned with handcuffs and a matching hat; alongside orange prison clothes. 

"You want me to be a copper?" Callum asks, one eyebrow raised. 

Ben looks up at Callum and grins. He shakes his head. "It'd be too obvious if I was the one being nicked. So Callum, it looks like you'll be the one with the handcuffs on tonight."

---

The music is already blaring, when they make it over to The Albert. There's a queue, but it seems to be going down quickly enough as people stream in. 

"I'm freezing in this." Callum says, towering over Ben as they walk in together, his lips close to his ears. 

Ben turns his body slightly, and grins. His hat almost gets knocked off as it brushes against Callum's face, and Callum's arms are wrapping around his body. "You'll soon warm up." He says, and lets his fingers trail over the sliver of skin that's being left exposed by the garish orange shirt not having buttons all the way to the top of the material. 

Callum rolls his eyes, and follows Ben to the bar. Kathy's standing there, eyes crinkled from laughing. She hands over two bottles of beer to them, and then wipes her hand clean of condensation. 

"Who thought of this then?" She asks, chuckling out a laugh. 

Callum nods his head in Ben's direction, who's standing with a huge grin on his face, not even trying to disguise how pleased he is. 

"If this doesn't win us that money, I don't know what will." Ben says, and he swings the handcuffs around on his index finger. "Even if he's refusing to wear these, but I'll convince him soon enough, won't I babe?"

"Yeah, you keep believing that." Callum says, though there's a beaming smile on his face filled with joy and excitement and they both know those handcuffs will end up on Callum's wrists by the end of the night.

"Who's judging anyway?" Ben asks. "I need to get on their good side."

Kathy grins. "I see it's the prize that got you here, not wanting to see what we've done with the place." She says, but really she wouldn't have Ben any other way. "The bar staff. Completely impartial, so don't be trying to buy them off, or you'll be disqualified."

Ben gasps out of a laugh, holding his hands to his heart. "Is that what you think of me? If you must know, I'm an upstanding police officer tonight, mother. If anyone would try bribery, it'll be Callum."

---

By the end of the night, Callum's got one handcuff on him, the other on Ben, as they walk home together, swaying side to side with the amount of alcohol in their system. They've both got wide grins on their faces, beaming and giddy, and a whole thousand pounds richer.