#i donated a couple cents tonight that i had left over and i was like oh my gosh it's been a minute

[scarah-screeeaaammss]

my sib and I started this thing last year that we call the Dollar a Doll initiative, where every time we get a new doll, we sent aside a dollar or two so that when we have enough we can donate it to a charity of choice.

[libraford]

The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time. 

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word. 

Don't. 

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs. 

Let them. 

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem. 

Life is surprising. 

 I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now. 

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in. 

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think." 

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly. 

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!" 

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door. 

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later." 

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice. 

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away. 

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time." 

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying. 

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods. 

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register. 

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out. 

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief. 

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices." 

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special." 

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story: 

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them." 

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?" 

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious. 

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag. 

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison. 

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking. 

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen. 

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!" 

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture. 

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow. 

And that's why there are rules. 

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful. 

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said. 

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse. 

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street. 

Wren drives very fast. 

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry. 

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief. 

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect." 

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her. 

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing. 

So now there are rules. 

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag. 

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out. 

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first. 

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00. 

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight. 

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags. 

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it. 

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it. 

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you. 

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble. 

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules. 

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount. 

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways. 

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said: 

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!" 

"They've been sitting without water for hours." 

"They're still good!" 

"They were out in the sun." 

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!" 

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears. 

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage. 

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me. 

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email." 

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday." 

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!" 

"Saturday." 

"Yeah." 

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday." 

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale." 

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday." 

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer. 

 And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together. 

"Sure." 

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink." 

"Sure." 

I print it. I ring her up $5. 

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free." 

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5." 

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time." 

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?" 

She grumbled, and paid. 

 And again. 

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?" 

"When the work is done." 

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren." 

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?" 

"When the work stops, I rest."

 And again. 

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up. 

"Oh baby..." 

"No. We're doing away with the discounts." 

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling. 

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-" 

"How can you do this to me?" 

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement." 

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?" 

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar." 

Stamp, stamp, stamp. 

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back. 

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register. 

"Is it now?" 

 And again. 

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin. 

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned. 

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go. 

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me. 

I began taking down numbers. 

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens. 

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler. 

"$54? What do I have that's $54?" 

"The oasis. They're $2 each." 

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1." 

"I can text Grandpa and ask her." 

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!" 

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses." 

"22.50 is everybody prices." 

"Welcome to 'everybody.'" 

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!" 

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else." 

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me. 

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me. 

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this." 

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.' 

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand. 

"Can you do something for me  on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty." 

"9.50." 

"9.50's the regular price." 

"Regular price is $14." 

"No it ain't." 

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals." 

She put them back. 

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy. 

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!" 

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice. 

Not here. 

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be. 

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes... 

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.' 

"No." 

It's such a great word. 

There are rules and there are rules. 

And there are thieves that the rules are made for. 

And there are words like 'no.' 

And all those things are magic in very human ways. 

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 134

July 23

The kitten room feels so empty tonight! For the past month or so I've been journaling from in here while keeping one eye on the boys' nightly rampage, occasionally taking breaks to stop them from bouncing off walls or to dangle the cat dancer for them. But this afternoon I packed them up and took them back to the shelter where they will go on to big kitten finishing school before going up for adoption. My kitten room is quiet and peaceful, perfect for tiny neonates who need lots of sleep and cuddles in order to grow, but not exactly the best environment from which to dump two scared not-quite-feral-anymores into the controlled chaos of the kitten room at the shelter. It is frustrating that the rescue coordinator cannot see the difference in them from six weeks ago because they are still so scared when they go into the shelter, but I am hoping that spending a couple weeks in the different and much more fluid environment of big kitten foster will help them adjust better. They are so sweet, they're just scared of change! 

With the kittens off to their next adventure, our attention turns to getting ready for the trip. Tonight I need to clean up the kitten room, both because it will get extremely stinky and gross if I just leave it for ten days and because I know that as soon as I get back they're going to give me new kittens. There are so many kittens, y'all! We knew it was going to be like this all the way back in March when the spay-neuter clinic had to close down and our trapping  was curtailed by health concerns and curfew. Still, you just have to do what you can! Our numbers this month are good so far, even with a full week left to go. We've TNR'd 15 adult cats, put 17 kittens into foster, and only had to euthanize one sick and suffering cat. We also raised nearly enough money to cover our own costs for the month, which is very important! The rescue operates on a thin margin at the best of times, but with adoptions down and intakes up, they can't afford to kick a lot of cash our way for surgeries. Getting money from the people who ask us to catch cats for them helps some, but we don't not help cats just because somebody can't pay. So far our best vehicle for fundraising has been finding the very photogenic kitties and telling their stories to Facebook with the donate button activated. People do like to help sad kitties, thank god! 

Besides cleaning the kitten room, I also need to get the kitchen and bathrooms clean so nothing unpleasant grows while we are away, and clean out the van so we can fill it with stuff to take with us. We still haven't gotten that bookshelf out because it rained this afternoon. So lots of cleaning, packing suitcases (my husband did all the laundry because he is a generally amazing person), getting the plants set up for slow watering, and making food for the trip is all on the agenda for tomorrow. Plus it's our anniversary, which is at least an excellent excuse for takeout and not dirtying up the kitchen. Also it is the cat's birthday! She is officially old enough to drive now, so be careful out there! 

In lieu of watching the kittens wrestle while I write, I'm keeping an eye on the local Facebook group melting down over the school board task force recommendation that the first nine weeks of school be all-virtual. You can definitely tell who in the comments has never even visited an elementary school since their own student years. It's an interesting mix of people concerned about spreading the virus in schools, people concerned about the logistical nightmare of social distancing in schools, people who are so desperate to get their kids back into school (for a variety of reasons) that they would risk just about anything, and a smattering of people insisting that this is all a hoax and that somehow Nancy Pelosi is winning if we keep schools closed (???) The Pelosi part just seems to be one guy who is posting a whole lot. 

I put in my two cents and bowed out, which is that if they open the schools they are just going to have to close them again as soon as they run out of teachers. Even assuming that every teacher is willing to go back and that anybody who can retire or afford to quit doesn't bounce at the last minute, COVID-19 exposure requires a two week family quarantine. If the teacher gets exposed, or if one of their kids gets exposed, that's a teacher out for 14 days, which is a nightmare sub scenario in normal times. The division says they have 350 subs, but nobody sent me a survey along with my "welcome to 2020, substitute teacher!" letter to ask if I was actually planning to teach. My answer, and I suspect the answer of a lot of subs, is no. And real talk, last year I could've subbed all day every day if I had wanted to, because there were never enough subs to cover every spot even in good times. How many teachers do you lose with no available replacement before you have to close a school and not even teach virtually? 

Oh, and the other cat thing I did today was dropping off the drop trap (ha!) at a new site to get the cats there trap-trained. Trap training is great if you can manage it, set up the trap and prop it so it stays open, then start feeding the cat in there for several days in a row. The cat gets over their jitters about the trap and gets used to the food being there, so when you actually set the trap to catch them, they walk right in. This time we are trying to catch a mama and two half-grown kittens and we are hoping to get them all in a single drop. This lady whose house I was at was very nice and clearly very affluent, and she is paying the freight for all three cats which is great. She showed me what happened to her TNR cat from a few years ago, who was TNRed as a kitten and then lived in her garage over the winter because it was cold but she was still pretty feral. They decided they could not keep her in the house because she didn't get along with their dog, so they basically built her an efficiency apartment out of half the backyard shed. This thing is an insulated room with lights, air conditioning, television, a heated cat bed, a cat tree, and a little cat door leading out to a screened-in catio. They put an antenna on the shed so the cat could get more channels, and there is a comfy human chair so they can spend time with her. I felt all the feelings simultaneously and elected to settle on being happy that this cat obviously has a super excellent life, and that the humans are taking care of their other feral cats, probably dumpees from the nearby trailer campground. 

All right, I've dawdled enough for one night, time to actually get some work done. Oh, and in one last bit of COVID trivia, only one urgent care chain on the Peninsula is giving tests for people without symptoms, and their turnaround time is 7-10 days. That's a pretty good indication that whatever our infection rate is, we actually have no idea how many people have got this thing. 

[geethedentist]

The Sassenach Warrior

Catch up on Chapter 7 here! 

Chapter 8: A Punch to the Stomach

“I’m here to fight.”

There. I said it. I determinately set my chin and waited for his response. 

Gavin opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. The crease between his brows deepened as he looked me up and down, deep in thought. 

I had supposed his original answer was going to be an outright no, and admittedly I had not planned for that scenario. Then it would be back to square one. 

“Are ye sure ye can handle it?” He said finally. “Because I’ll tell ye now that I dinna take responsibility for any broken bones, loss of blood, missing teeth, or any other type of bodily harm that ye may incur. Ye dinna want to get that pretty face of yours all botched up now do ye?” 

I smiled sweetly. “I have plenty of scars, I wouldn’t notice a couple more. Anything else?” 

“I also hope ye realize that all of the other fighters are men.”

I rubbed my hands together. “Excellent.” 

Of course Gavin was not going to try too hard to dissuade me. He was a businessman after all. Who wouldn’t pay to see a woman in a brawling match? He would rake in the coin due to mere curiosity. 

Everything that happened after Gavin’s overly exaggerated sigh was a blur. 

I was whisked into a back room full of large, sweaty, and shirtless men. The prominent smell of alcohol had bloody undertones. As expected, there was immediate silence followed by not so subtle whispering. 

“Aren’t ye goin’ to take off yer shirt as well lass? ’Tis only fair!” Somebody called from within the steaming mass. He was met with roaring laughter. 

My lip curled in disgust as I sat down. The light from the back of the room was suddenly blotted out as somebody approached and stood over the chair next to me. 

“Is this seat empty?” Vulgar man asked me. 

“No, but this one will be if you sit down.” I said gesturing to my own chair without turning to look at him. 

“Watch out lads, she bites!” He walked away snickering. 

“Now we ask that ye remove yer boots and any jewelry ye might be wearin’,” Gavin told me as two female attendants grabbed both of my hands and began wrapping strips of cloth around them, halfway to my elbow. 

“I - I don’t have any jewelry.” I said, recalling the whole reason I was about to perform this stunt in the first place. After toeing off my boots I held my hands up. 

“What is this for?” 

He looked up and chuckled. “It’s supposed to prevent yer knuckles from splittin’,” he paused, “. . . too badly.” 

I turned to a more practical question. “Who . . . who is going to be my opponent?” I scanned the room, looking for someone who might be similar in size to me. 

“I figured I’d put ye against Brady.” Gavin said. “He’s still pretty new, and shouldn’t crush ye, I expect.” 

“Well, tell him not to hold back.” 

Jesus Christ what am I saying?

After assuring Gavin I would compete and follow the same rules as any man, I stood just outside the entrance to the ring stiff as a board waiting for the introduction. Brady was already in the center, still in a bit of a shock after learning of the last minute opponent change. He was several inches shorter than Jamie, and possibly just as young with short, dark brown hair. He was muscular but thin. He seemed strong, but a bit clumsy, as if he knew not how to carry himself or use his strength. I tried to gather as much information I could before the entire crowd let out an audible gasp. 

I kept replaying the distinct sounds of everyone’s voices as they went up to bed. None of the men I was traveling with were here tonight. Paranoia made me scan the crowd over and over again. 

“Claire?” Gavin’s voice pierced the hazy cloud surrounding my head. Someone gave me a push from behind, and then I remembered how to walk. 

Nine minutes later, I was on my hands and knees gulping for air. Waiting for the blinding pain to subside where Brady had punched me in the stomach, I was also doing my very best to ignore the crowd. 

Well what did ye think was goin’ to happen? 

Serves her right!

Sitting once again in the room behind the ring, the chair creaked as I tipped it back so that it touched the wall. My head went back as well, allowing me to let go of the bloody cloth I had jammed up my nose. 

“Ah, Mistress Claire?” It was Brady. I think. “I - I’m verra sorry about hurtin’ ye, but Gavin said . . .” 

I swung my head forward again, the front legs of the chair hit the ground and cut him off. “Tell me something Brady.” 

He stood there expectantly, waiting for me to continue. God he looked even younger up close. 

“How many matches have you won since you started fighting here?” 

“Well including tonight, four mistress. But I almost beat Daniel last week!” 

I leaned back in the chair again and crossed my legs. “Wonderful,” I almost sneered at him. “So how many of your other three victories came with an apology?” 

The stuttering that followed indicated that he was understanding my point. 

“I’m terribly sorry mistress!” His hand flew to his mouth. 

I sighed, “It’s all right. I am well aware that I don’t belong here, but I’d prefer if you didn’t remind me.” 

This was probably my final match anyway, I thought as I heard the coins jangle in Brady’s pocket as he walked away. At this rate, it would take me until Samhain to make one single solitary cent. I tilted my head back again, closed my eyes, and let out a long sigh, followed by a longer yawn. Hearing approaching footsteps, I kept my eyes closed. I was not in the mood for further ridicule. 

The footsteps stopped in front of me, and I was jolted forward by the presence of a heavy mass tossed suddenly into my lap. Upon further inspection, said heavy mass was a pouch of coin. I looked up, and Gavin chuckled at the expression that must have colored my face. 

“I - You know I lost right?” 

“Oh aye ye did! But ye got a couple o’ hits in!” 

Crossing my arms, I waited for an explanation. Gavin continued quickly. “Listen Claire, I hope we didna scare ye too badly tonight. I want to be the first to tell ye that ye have potential. With a little practice and technique, ye can be really great. The crowd went wild for ye tonight.”

I casually tossed the pouch between my hands. “Ah, so this is to ensure my return, because you know that I have no money to my name and that I am completely dependent upon Dougal and company.” 

A pause. 

“Fine I’ll do it.” 

After quietly closing the door behind me back at our lodgings I saw a solitary figure in a chair by the fire. Just the man I wanted to see. I still had no idea if this was going to work, and my pounding heart agreed with me. Sitting down across from him, I swept my cloak behind me and lowered the hood, waiting for him to speak first. 

His eyebrow went up and the corner of his mouth raised in a smirk. “I kent ye werna tryin’ to escape. That’s why I let ye go.” 

I leaned back and crossed my legs. “I suppose I shall have to do a better job at sneaking out then, won’t I?” 

“Passing information to the English, then?” 

Enough of this. The pouch of coin thumped onto the table between us. Dougal’s  eyes widened imperceptibly. 

“For Scotland.” I said. “If we stay in Nairn a bit longer I can double that. Triple if you stop using Jamie.” 

The smirk had quickly evolved into his famous malicious smile. “Ye care for the lad.” It was not a question. “However ye got this money,” he continued, “seems like an awful lot to go through for Jamie.” 

I flinched. He was right, but thankfully it wasn’t my only reason. “Well Dougal Mackenzie, it seems your patriotism has rubbed off on me. Even if I can’t understand a word of your speeches, traveling with you has taught me that the mistreatment of the Highlanders under the English crown has been unforgivable.” 

He looked suspicious, but I kept telling myself that I technically wasn’t lying, just leaving out my number one motive. If I help to fund his war, he will trust me enough to give my ring back.

It would take some time and patience, but it all rested on this moment. The silence stretched unbearably and I kept my face set sternly. Finally he seemed to decide that this and any subsequent donations were more important than any shenanigans I could be up to. He all but snatched the bag off the table. 

“I want triple.” 

The agreement was made. 

__________________________________________________________________

The next morning saw me walking awkwardly tilted to the left with my right arm hugged across the front of my body. I had awoken to unpleasant painful throbbing, a souvenir from last night. I silently thanked whatever divine forces had ensured that my face was not sporting any bruises, cuts, or swelling. 

The next part of my plan was to stop assuming that I knew how to fist-fight simply because I wielded a bow and sword slightly above average. I found him in the back, with the horses of course. 

“Good morning, Jamie.” 

He jumped. “Sassenach, g’mornin’!” I was glad that it seemed he had put that small drunken episode behind us. I was going to have to execute this conversation as delicately as the one with Dougal the previous night, if I was going to get what I wanted. Strolling up to the horse’s muzzle, I casually gave him some scratches and continued. 

“It’s a little chilly this morning, don’t you think?” My back was turned so he couldn’t see the cringe I made at the lame remark. Weather? Really?

“Aye, I suppose,” he said hesitantly. “Is that why ye’re walkin’ like that?” 

He gestured to the hug I was giving myself in a vain attempt to ease the pain from the beating I took. 

“Exactly!” I answered a little too loudly, and he seemed to take my strange behavior for my usual strange behavior. 

“Sassenach?” He said slowly. “I was thinking, um, would ye like to go back to see more fighting tonight? Dougal isna makin’ me stay here for another speech.”

The word “No!” Had escaped my mouth a hair too quickly. He gave me a funny look. So much for delicate execution. “I - I mean - I thought we were all playing cards tonight!”

He blinked. “We’re playin’ cards?” 

I laughed nervously. “Of course we are! They - they didn’t tell you?!” I was speaking far too quickly and excitedly.  Great. I now wanted to hit myself because directly after this I would have to find Rupert, Angus, and Murtagh and orchestrate a card game for later. I could have just faked a headache right before we left. 

“Oh. All right then. Perhaps another day.” His mention of the fighting however did provide a perfect route into the real reason I came to Jamie this morning. 

“How extraordinary is that place?” I said dreamily. 

“I had never seen yer eyes light up like they did watching it Sassenach,” he laughed. “It looked like ye were itchin’ to get into the ring.” 

Oh the irony. “Well I have a bit of a confession to make.” 

“What’s that?” I had his full attention. 

“My uncle had only ever taught me to fight with my bow and sword. I’d say I am quite pitiful at hand-to-hand combat.” 

His eyebrows rose. “Is that so? The great Claire canna throw a few punches?” 

I shoved him a bit and punched the air in front of his face, doing my very best not to wince at the stabbing pain in my side. “Of course I can. But that’s all they are, they lack actual skill or finesse.”

“Ah now I ken yer meanin’” There was still a smirk on his face. 

“I take it you are an oh so skilled fighter then?” I said, rolling my eyes. 

“I ken a thing or two.” He answered casually, leading me to believe that he knew much more than a thing or two. 

“Did your father teach you?” 

Jamie chuckled. “Actually it was Dougal. My uncle plays one brutal game of shinty.”

I snorted, “somehow I’m not surprised. Well why don’t you show me what you got?” 

“All right,” he beamed. “Some things I’ve learned over the years then.” He inclined his head, thinking. “A fool-proof way to knock out or stun yer opponent is to either get them in the jaw with a fist or an elbow, a foot or a knee to the middle of the abdomen …” 

I grimaced, remembering that one quite well. 

“… or a shot to the kidney, from the back.” He reached out with his right hand and yanked me closer by the arm. At the same time, his left elbow was making its way to the corner of my mandible. He was doing it slowly enough, so as just to demonstrate the technique but not actually hit me. That would have been fine, were it not for the intense soreness coursing through every muscle I had.

Jamie had taken me a bit by surprise, causing me to let out a gasp. “Ah …!” 

He stopped immediately. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?” The concern in his voice was heartbreaking. 

“…Ah hah! So that’s how it’s done!” I unconvincingly attempted to disguise the groan of pain. Brushing the hair out my eyes, I reassured him that I was “fine.” 

“Never better, I just didn’t know it was going to be this kind of lesson!” I eagerly jumped back and forth, to further demonstrate how “fine” I was.

“Well I canna explain very well without showin’ ye Sassenach,” he smiled, relieved because he thought he hadn’t hurt me. 

This was going to be a long lesson. 

“I think ye’ve had enough, Sassenach.” Jamie finally said about an hour later. 

“What … makes you … think .. that?” I huffed sarcastically, doubled over trying to catch my breath. After promptly flopping onto the bench, his tone turned a bit serious. 

“Claire, can I ask ye something?” 

“Yes?” I said cautiously. This question could not end very well. 

“About that poster we found the other night…” 

“Oh God you didn’t find anymore did you?” I started to rise, but he stopped me. 

“No, I just had a frightening thought.” Frightening indeed, his entire demeanor had changed in an instant. “’Tis just that, Randall has been through this town.” His fists began clenching and unclenching. “What if …” 

“Jamie. What?” I demanded a little impatiently, rising from the bench. He was beginning to make me nervous. 

“What if his troops were the ones who put the poster there? What if there are more … in other towns? Claire. If that man kens who ye are … I dinna ken what I would do.” 

His hands had even started to shake, which is why I felt bad for the subsequent  giggling. “Jamie have you seen that drawing of me?” I snorted out. After the initial shock of finding the thing, I had sat in bed and chuckled at the grossly disproportionate features before throwing it into the fire. “My nose is not that big!” 

“It doesna matter. Ye are pretty easy to spot for plenty of other reasons!” He said, outraged. “Please Claire, just dinna do anything stupid until we get back to Leoch?” His voice had taken on a begging tone and he did nothing to mask it. He seemed terrified, and I had the grace to stop laughing.

Preparing to lie yet again, I took a deep breath. “I promise.” 

And he looked relieved.

That evening, fake card game in place, I could not stop thinking about my morning with Jamie. I had blatantly used him to improve my fighting skills. Gazing across the table at the pure joy that had colored his face all day made it so much worse. He was blinded. Jamie was not stupid. It was quite easy to discern how odd I was acting, and he wouldn’t allow himself to see it. Guilt is not an emotion I grapple with very often, and I seriously contemplated telling him what I was up to. 

But I just couldn’t. 

The tavern was full that night. Many were demanding a speech from Dougal, having brought with them like-minded friends and relatives. I fixed the brute with a stern glare, a reminder of our deal. I received the smirk in return. 

“Not tonight, I’m afraid.” He said with mock regret. “But why would ye need me? Ye dinna have yer own stories? Yer own struggles? Yer own scars?” His eyes flickered to Jamie, bluffing at the card game and blissfully enjoying the fact that his new shirt was going to remain intact. 

Soon, the Scots were getting up one by one to tell their stories and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes in Dougal’s direction. His job was doing itself now and he didn’t even need his nephew any longer. 

My annoyance with the Mackenzie war chief soon evaporated as each Highlander stood up and shared their story. I looked over at Jamie and I knew he was thinking about how the English soldiers had marched up to his home and Randall had decided that he wanted to have his way with Jamie’s sister. For some, the same exact thing had happened, but the soldiers had actually gone through with the rape. Some dragoons had taken animals, set fires, and driven families out of their ancestral estates. Some went so far as to take children away from their mothers as payment for taxes, stating that with one less mouth to feed they should be able to produce more money. 

My throat constricted as this woman began to cry in earnest. “Last I heard, he was taken to a manor in England.” Her voice wobbled considerably. “He’s workin’ in the stables, and I dinna ken if I’ll ever see him again!” She crumpled to the floor and her husband lifted her back into her seat. 

I could have easily stood up and told my tale of how the British Empire took everything from me, and how the wanted poster was proof that they’re still not satisfied.  But the truth is, I have never talked about it. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe that I ended up here. Scotland, my ever present reminder of something that I can’t bear to think about. I will never speak of it partly out of spite, because I have no idea how the inner turmoil would project itself and I was quite frankly afraid to find out. 

The tears of agony and loss that accompanied what I heard this night stirred up something inside of me. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if my path to freedom from Scotland involved funding the rebellion, even it was through Dougal Mackenzie. Feeling completely unsettled, I resolved to march down to the ring as soon as everyone was in bed and kick Brady’s ass.

[the-bear-neccesities]

Customers prejokerx x oc one shot

She knew he would come just like all of the rest, the ginger blond woman stood behind the counter with her tired smile, he would come, the one with the bandana, he'd buy a black coffee and the pack of the cheapest cigarettes, every two weeks, he'd bring his own container and buy gasoline, Hanna was curious what he did with it, since he didn't have a car, but never asked.

Hanna knew he would come, just as the housewife would run in a three in the morning looking ashamed as she bought two bottles of vodka, or  just as the short mexican in the wife beater, working the dead shift, would buy a snickers bar and a five hour energy would come in at two. Sometimes there were people traveling buying gas, or the homeless person every now or then she would let wash up in the bathroom and dump out the donation into their bare wallets, tins, or pockets

Hanna counted her customers like sheep, though she only did it so she wouldn't fall asleep, he was her favorite, though the way he blew on his hands which were covered in gloves with out fingertips or the bandana he used to cover his lower face to protect it from the cold, he felt alive with bright eyes and a odd walk, he never spoke though.

Not to her anyhow, to himself though, sometimes, just small things, muttering about the prices or the air conditioning. When he did get gas he muttered it once, and even if Hanna had heard him she'd ask him to repeat it and then he would hold up the money and then two fingers, then the grey eyed girl would wait for him to get to the pump before she'd turn it on.

And tonight was no different, a few travel people came in and bought snacks, she was sorting the register when the bell rang and she popped up to see him walk in. His dirty blond almost brown hair crashed around him and the customer didn't look at her as he began to make his cup of coffee.

Hanna immediately tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and turned around to get out the cheap cigs with the green and purple coupon that her boss had started. She jumped slightly seeing that he had been standing at the counter already waiting for her. "Hi." she whispered setting the smokes and the coupon on top of the counter, his intense brown eyes popped up as she typed up his order.

The man held up the coupon with his fingers eyeing the odd color. Hanna noticed the tips of his fingers were calloused and underneath the strangers nails there was a bit of white paint. maybe he was an artist, yeah, part of her felt like a teenager with a crush borderline stalking this man she barely knew by wondering about his job

"it's a coupon, you're supposed to get them yourself, but...i figured i save you the trouble, after you buy a certain amount of smokes you'll get one free, just bring it here so i can hole punch it, if you  want to, i didn't know if you wanted to or not, that is why i didn't put  a hole in it before..." her cheeks heated at her awkward babbling.

the man's gaze went over her before he held it out, as always, he did this in silence and she clipped a hole in it the multicolored paper , the money was paid and the bell rang once more

she blushed and Hannah waited out the rest of her night before handing the keys to jerry, bundling up and heading back out to gotham, the cold air hit her face and she walked hurriedly, what would the alcoholic housewife be doing right now, that dead shift worker, the bundled up man with his coffee and smokes? what would they be doing.

would he be awake? did he live around here? Hanna shook her head continuing to her house so she could curl up and rest. Once in the shabby home, the girl fed her fish and laid down on her faded green sheets that she had, just so that she could pretend that she was laying on a bed of mint. Hannah's nights as you could call it, was filled with nightmares. always nightmares

when she awoke in a drench of sweat, her eyes were wide seemingly stuck in a state of shock and the girl shook her head before releasing her throat from her hand, Hannah stood and than showered. Hot water poured over Hanna's body steaming as it hit her warm flesh. it soon turned cold and the blond haired girl dried herself off before enjoying the leftover take away from the fridge. 

The woman smiled  at the news, the Wayne company had finally declared bruce after four years of disappearing, which was sad, though on the other side of the news world, a couple of people had been found wandering the streets of gotham seeming to have lost their mind, homeless mainly but it was only the weird part that they all died by self mutilation.

That had dropped Hanna's smile and she swallowed shakily as her phone rang. "hello, hanna speaking." the voice on the other end was familiar and made the woman sigh. "it's jerry, samantha's called in, i was wondering how'd you feel about a double shift." the woman already stood nodding her head.

"yeah, a double shift would be great. " the blond woman whispered softly into the phone as she slipped off her night clothes and put on the work shirt her heart was tired and the woman yawned softly feeling her tired state already sinking in. "Okay get here in an hour won't you?" the man stated before hanging up the line with a harsh clank on the other end

"of course, did you hear that nemo, i have to work again." the fish swam in a circle as a response, he was good company. It took her less than five minutes to get ready, though in all honesty, it took her more time to find her shoes then it did to do anything else.The woman dryed her straw golden red hair and made tea, after discovering that she had ran out of coffee.

When Hanna left it was mid afternoon and the woman was exhausted and happy that tomorrow was her day off. she then headed off bobbing her head and hating the cold weather, listening to her morning playlist filled with feel good music that she didn't truly feel for.  The girl closed her eyes at the front entrance of her dead end job making sure to take in a deep breath as she pushed open the door and felt the eyes of her boss on her.

"You're early." he stated eyeing her with a somewhat wanting gaze which made Hanna's skin crawl, he was one of those men who would leave extra drawer money if you put out, which explained why this particular woman was broke. "i didn't want to be late." he shrugged and handed her the key before heading out.

"Keep the goods safe." Hanna rolled her eyes at the idea of people stealing the quarter lollipops or bags of chips, these were his goods. "Yes sir." By then he had walked off and the woman had stepped to her pose behind the counter. for awhile she stared at the brown spot on the glass above the lottery tickets before someone clearing their throat made he look up.

Blue eyes. that was all she could think these icy cubes stare at her causing her to sit up and blushed slightly. "Sorry...what is it that you need?" He smiled at her heated cheeks, the shade of her light eyes and blonde hair. she was oddly beautiful"Gas pump two...and one of these...which do you suggest?" the tall dark haired man stated gesturing to the pops.

Hannah felt weak at the knees finding out the gas station stranger had an addicting tone of voice and that the pattern of his words were wonderful paused and put together almost like a melody. as though each meaningful or even meaningless things he could say was a sonnet. It really wasn't fair was it.

"Cherry or green apple, are they for you or do you have a child that you are giving these to?" the woman asked biting her lip as she typed into the machine, feeling the tall man's gaze bore into her, as she glanced over to him, he shook his head. "Just me, i'll take them both and tell you which i prefer.." his voice faded and Hanna looked up to meet his eyes.

as the gas station attendant did this, she noticed that he had been looking at her, not as though he found attraction in her features, but found a puzzle in  her, one that he desperately seemed to want to figure out"Well, if you pick either one you will still be agreeing with me on taste, how much do you want on the pump?" he chuckled slightly at her steady composure and steel like eye contact.

"twenty and here is fifty cents for the candy...hope to see you again, hanna." Their hands touched and the girl kept her gaze on him  as he left and unlocked the pump when he got to it, before pressing in the number and putting in the money for somewhat safe keeping. He was handsome, taking the double shift might have not been the worst idea.

The day, like a mother pulling her tantrum throwing child out of the toy store, dragged on slowly. She had stolen two cups of coffee, and still felt like dying, as cute as lollipops had been, and as much as she had needed this money, there was no way that she was not going to regret this tomorrow.

The night came and then the counting began, housewife, dead shift worker, the girl was beginning to wonder if he was going to show, the woman twirled the pen about her fingertips. It was a quarter to three, she didn't think he was going to show and the girl was about to step about the counter when he entered, greasy locks and bright eyes.

Hanna moved about the counter into her playing position and sighed she was going to get her desperately needed refill. Hanna eyed his hands seeing more paint this time black and she watched how, he way his fingers moved, nearly mimicking her when she continued to flip the pen.

His eyes met hers and he had quickly looked down, the fair haired girl imagined that he had blushed. It was when she had smiled at that thought that the pen had suddenly decided to slip and nearly hit the man as it made its way by. Hanah blushed and opened her mouth to make an apology.

"I'm so.." She let out a breathy laugh before covering her lips, the poor half asleep woman couldn't help but break her professional stature to enjoy this moment."Sorry." The man set down the cup and scoffed slightly, before kneeling down to picked up the pen.

 His face covering, when he had the object in his hand,  went up slightly as though he was smirking and once he was standing straight up, the stranger started up another cup coffee.

Slowly the woman thought better of just standing there and staring at him and went about the counter looking down at her feet, feeling slightly ashamed at her fit of flightful giggles. "Sorry, for laughing and trying to murder you with a pen you stopped me from get-" She was cut off as she was reaching for the pen and instead found herself holding a steaming cup of coffee instead.

"Coffee.." Hanna muttered watching the man place a plastic seal onto his own drink. "Thanks...But what about my pen?" The man simply shook his head before opening his mouth and speaking to her for the first time "It's a trophy doll, an escape from death." He held it up teasingly before his eyes widened with an idea. Her own mimicked his at the clear sounding voice that escaped him.

"You want to see a magic trick?" She tilted her head at him and pouted her lips nodding slowly. Her mind had went to his voice and its hoarseness, he must have not spoken much in order to get his voice so roughed up, it kind of made Hannah feel special, but then again it made her feel sad for the coffee wielding stranger

"Who doesn't love a little illusion in there life?" Jack looked over the short petite blonde woman, in her worn out workers clothes and faded jeans on her feet, she wore green tennis shoes. No, he couldn't kill her just yet, not wearing his favorite color, not with the coupon she gave to him so kindly, not yet.

So he did a trick pulling it out of the air, she smiled slightly eyes alight as she bit her lip. Hannah looked oh so entranced by this trick, he could easily make her eyes dim by using this pen to poke a hole into her pale neck. but instead he took a bow and the woman gave him a small round of applause.

"That's a good trick, do you do parties?" Under the itchy face covering he licked his scars and chuckled. Once again the man purchased the cigarettes and the coffee though she gave him the employee discount. Then Jack headed home, he still had things to take care of and he got the itch to play, in his pocket he felt the familiar knife and the man knew he wouldn't be able to go home until he had found another victim.

Hanna had enjoyed the almost bitter coffee softly taking it in until her next shift arrived. The covered man had been kind and funny, she almost regretted the fact that she wouldn't see him tonight. in fact over those next few weeks she only saw the blue eyes man, though it was only during her morning double shift and Hanna found herself getting an odd feel from him. he had given her his number attached to a cherry lollipop.

His name was Jonathan crane, but even though she had no love life to speak of, and Hannah couldn't help,but want to hear him talk. she didn't know if she should call or not. Immediate attraction or a man of his level of education or pretense of gaining interest in a girl like her, it was almost never good news and it almost always ended badly

It was the night shift now and the regulars came in, all of them. Hanna put on a bright smile at the sight of the covered man though he seemed thinner than he last looked and was in the middle of looking at their chip selection, perhaps trying to make up for the lost weight when the bell rang.

She glanced over and Hannah's breath caught in her throat, before sinking into her stomach, immediately she pressed the button at the sight of the masked men with guns. Coffee man was hidden, so the woman tried not to worry too much about him. they gazed over her. "anyone else here little lady?" The woman shook her head, hoping the man had found cover and wouldn't be noticed by the robbers

"No it's just me..i don't suppose you're here for the twenty four hour service?" Hannah muttered half heartedly trying to swallow down her fear, and keep their eyes on her so her customer would stay safe.

 One of them let out an exhausted scoff before shaking his head "fill up the bag and don't make any more jokes you got that bitch.."

The woman nodded, opened up the register and emptied out its contents inside the burlap sack, she was about to hand it back when the man grabbed her roughly. "Aye boys, remember that bonus i promised you, this is it." The blond girl fought against him as he pulled her roughly over the counter by her arm and a fist of her hair.

As she was being torn away from the safety of the desk,  her eyes caught her customers brown gems, with a tear blurred gaze Hanna shook her head as if to tell him not to try and help. Roughly the muscled masked man slammed Hannah's back against the counter so her legs were out towards them and her arms were flailing outward towards the register

the woman nearly laughed as her fingertips brushed the emergency bat, the swinging one, not the flying creature that would later on this month appear to restore gotham.

The leader had been busy at that moment working at her belt, so his grip was loose and Hanna used that to rip free from him, grab the bat, and swing with a small animalistic screech. There was a crack as wood met his thick skull. Suddenly there was a barrel at her head as the body fell.

Her heart raced and mind slowed, she was going to die, any moment now the man would pull the trig- Jack moved quickly and raced at the attacker from her right who held the gun, pushing him into the other one. The three stumbled and he was on the one with the gun as Hanna struck the other's knee cap.

In a reflex the gun wielding attacker pulled off Jack's mask and screamed at the sight just before his head met the concrete.The blond worker was shaking and Jack kicked the chubby man she had not knocked out in the face and now wailed in polite silence as he looked over at Hannah.

The bat had fell from her grip and her eyes met his, the man expected a number of things from the ginger blond gas station attendant. For her to attack him, scream, wince in disgust but instead the small woman raced over to him and wrapped her arms about him. "Thank you...thank you thank you..."

He stiffened at her touch and nodded oddly as he patted her back, though he found himself somewhat enjoying Hannah's arms about him. It was a small moment before she pulled back, wiped her eyes and looked over him with a small smile on her face, as though he was her hero.

The police are coming, you don't have to be here, you can go if you want.." The girl stated shakily her eyes moving over him with a small smile before she went to the back of the store and handing him a family size bag of funions. "You want some cigarettes to-" Hannah was cut off by the handsomely scarred man placing his covering, which had fell, onto a bleeding part of her head.

"cigarettes would be good, and a knife." Hannah nodded blushing as sirens in the distance met her ears. The stranger looked down eyeing her oddly as she pressed her hand on his and stepped back to grab the things he needed. It had been so long since a person looked at him in a normal way, but here she was, even before this night, watching and seeing  Jack like he was normal and not a freak, and even though he knew she was wrong, it felt very nice.

"Thanks...if you weren't here, i don't even want to think about it....thank you seriously..um, I'm hannah by the way." The grey eyed woman stated oddly as she shook her head and gave him the small bag. Jack glanced down at her name tag and smiled. he had known her name since the first night he had came here,  but since it was her first robbery, The man would blame shock instead of putting the fault to her.

"I'm jack...don't mention it, seriously i think it's a crime that i'm leaving the scene right now." Hannah let out a breath of a laugh before giving his hand a squeeze, trying not to cry as she handed him the bag. "Don't worry i won't, thanks jack..see you tomorrow maybe?" the man nodded his head and turned about quickly fleeing the scene and leaving the shaky woman to herself.

his hands tingle at the spot where she had touched. Hanna sighed and waited outside the store, keeping bat in hand in case the men woke up, they didn't and were dragged off to the back of the police vehicle by a slightly overweight officer."Mam are you okay?" she blinked and looked up at two men, one with familiar blue eyes and the one addressing her, Hanah nodded and sighed.

"Yeah i'm fine, i didn't kill any of them did i?" The officer shook his head smiling down at her somewhat proudly and with interest. "No, no, they'll be fine, did any of them-""No, they didn't, i'm fine, and no i didn't see any vehicle that they could have came in, can one of your men lock up the store, i've had a double shift and i have to work in the morning and clean that up, unless one of your officers would like to do that, i'd like to go now."

She was tired, so though the woman gave them an apologetic look in place for her attitude, the girl's voice was cold. "No worries mam, we've called your boss, he's on his way and will close up. You've been through a lot, Doctor crane was on his way from arkham, he'll look over you and than you can go home." Hanna smiled at that news and hoped her boss wouldn't be p.o over the mess

"Hello Doctor." The man left and there she was looking up at blue eyes. He smiled softly causing dimples to appear on either side of his lips as he gazed professionally down at her. "Hello Hannah, follow the light for me please." The girl did and sighed as the light blocked her vision.

"So, you took down three men, by yourself?" The light went away and she blinked taking in a sigh as she nodded. "The bat helped." She shrugged smiling slightly. "I am sure it did, now could you tell me what happened?" Jonathan asked his semi-deep voice rumbling through the silence in the air that laid thickly between them.

"They came in, it was a little past three i think. I was alone, its the graveyard shift, so besides a few regulars, I didn't really have to many customers, they pointed the gun. I had pushed the button at seeing them and began to empty the register, after i handed the bag back, the leader grabbed me, and he pulled me over the counter..." The woman paused taking in a breath before continuing with her account of the story.

"As he went for my belt i managed to grab the bat, i hit him over the head and then quickly swung at the other two, one of them i hit in the kneecaps and kicked, the other i slammed into the concrete. "The girl bit her lip. "I know I shouldn't have, but I was scared and they had tried to rape me..I  don't want that to happen, I didn't want that to happen.." again the man tilted his head and nodded almost as though he had heard that unsaid last word.

"No one is blaming you for this, you did the right thing those men would have gone on to hurt a lot more people if you hadn't stopped them. though, you have a minor concussion and you need rest, you'll be alright.. but i'll drive you home okay? I want to make sure you get home safe" hanna nodded thinking of jack, he had made her safe.

"thank you doctor." She murmured half felt as her mind wandered to how he had looked. His  handsome face with the horrible scars, they had jutted out like a horrid smirk, marring his clear tan features, they had hurt her just to look at and her heart ached for him. Jack had a strong jaw and wonderfully dark eyes that came with a serious gaze.

Hannah thought of what she would say the next time she saw him, or  if they would be friends after this. The small lonesome woman could imagine them being friends, or more, hanging out, playing video games, and visiting coffee shops. Hanna could imagine them kissing, how Jack's scars felt on her cheek, against her tongue, or thigh.

She could imagine him showing her his works of art, perhaps painting her himself and wrapping his warm arm about her while they walked home together whispering sweet things to each other as though nothing else mattered. Hannah was a silly woman though,  and Jack probably saw her as weak and useless, so Hannah could also imagine herself never seeing the scarred man again.

The woman would be alright with that though, she would have been almost alright with  anything. Except for what was going to happen to her, there was no way that she would have wanted this or been alright as fate unfolded the following moments that came to be her reality. Hanna's mind was everywhere but on the man before her, she shivered as the doctor touched her shoulder kindly.

"Come on let's go." the man let her settle down in his passenger seat before shutting the door. The blond woman hadn't noticed that she had been walking, Jonathan smiling down at her like she was a prize, or the scarred man looking at her from the shadows making sure she was alright.

"I'm sorry that I didn't call, i was going to, I just...don't trust people that well." The girl stated suddenly as he started the car. "Don't worry about it, but know that you can trust me okay.." his addicting tone rang in her ears once more and she squeezed his hand smiling strangely as the first tear came out, in her other hand she had a bloodied up bandana that smelled of motor oil.

"Okay, I trust you...but only because you're a Doctor, thanks." The dark haired smiled pulling out a small needle from his pocket as she went to release his soft hand. "Now, Hannah can you tell me what are you afraid of?" The real police arrived minutes later to an empty crime scene with no footage or witnesses of what had happened.

Jack had left by then having not seen the grey eyed girl be injected and thinking she would have got home without harm, the scarred man didn't notice until the next time he went to her graveyard shift, that she was gone. Hannah was found four days later, wondering the streets with a bloodied bandana, looking like hell, and muttering about cigarettes and lollipops.

She had no one to miss her, but a fish that would starve to death before they cleared out her apartment and a scarred man who had enjoyed her smiles and would lose his mind sometime later due to not having a single tether to this world

For hannah, it had just been one bad day.

[bxebxee]

Going Once, Going Twice, Sold (Birth of a Sugar Baby)

Note: This is a two-for-one deal. I wrote this to participate in the Bangtan Bookclub Monthly Challenge: Sugar Daddy Edition, and also as a (late) birthday gift to my very good friend, MVP, whom I love and adore and respect and would probably donate my kidney for if she were in need of one. I had so much fun planning this out with @94hixtape and @sugaredmarbles - Smut Goddesses tbh. I got Really inspired by Cheese In The Trap! Yet again, this came out Different than how I originally imagined it, but I’m hoping it’s not a total disaster.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: college au, sugar daddy au Warnings: escort/prostitution, online perverts, unsanitary mention, masturbation mention Word Count: 5144 Rating: A, for Ambiguous (because it’s not really smut, but it’s not exactly the Safest thing for work. Feel?)

*

But the real reason anything at all started with Hoseok was something much simpler, and probably wholly unexpected - not that you ever planned on any of the other members of the MBA Society to find out.

You leave your unlocked phone in his car before stumbling your way into your tiny, studio apartment. And he sees a twitter notification asking you for further discount on your panties.

That is all it takes.

*

You have exactly $2.30 on you at this very second, broken down by a wrinkly-looking dollar bill with the rest scrounged up from various coins. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, sneaking a glance at Seungcheol making his rounds collecting money to pay for the meal your group just ate. Luckily he’s still a few tables over, which gives you time to make puppy eyes at your friends. 

Jisoo wordlessly hands you a couple of folded singles. “It’s all I have left minus emergency money, and you’re not getting that. Sorry baby.” 

“I fucking love you,” you sigh, grateful for anything. When Chaeyoung goes to hand you money, you shoot her a stern glare. “Don’t you dare. Underclassmen do not pay for my shit.” You had absolutely abhorred being taken advantage of when you were a freshman, and you’d be damned if you subjected Pure, Perfect Chaeyoung to something like that. 

The MBA Society liked to have spontaneous dinner meetings (read: excuses to get drunk), and while they were called “optional,” the tacit truth was that if you didn’t show up to one, your invites for the rest of the semester were revoked. So even though you knew you were beyond broke, you still had to drag your feet over to a moderately-priced meat house and pretend to enjoy the food. 

“Just take the money, good lord. You can pay her back later,” Jisoo sighs as you continue to resist the younger girl’s offer. “He’s coming over here right now,” she hisses. 

“I’m really okay with it,” Chaeyoung says enthusiastically in her Freshman voice. Her eyes are so innocent, and you feel like the Worst. You’ve effectively become the very person you wanted to avoid turning into, but there was no way around it...

Seungcheol comes around to your section a few seconds after you hastily accept a shiny, crisp ten-dollar bill from Chaeyoung. You give him a halfhearted smile as he accepts money from you. 

“I think I’m gonna pass on second round,” you tell him, doing your best to look tired rather than depressed. 

He frowns at the news. “Awww, why? It’s no fun if you’re not around. You gotta show the newbies how a real professional handles karaoke.” 

You let out the fakest laugh, and you see Jisoo’s nostrils flare in embarrassment from the corner of you eyes. “I really, really want to, but I gotta take care of assignments. I’m behind.” 

He sighs, pouting cutely at your reluctance. “Alright. I won’t push tonight. But don’t make this a habit.” 

“I won’t,” you reply to his retreating form. When you’re sure he’s left earshot, you heave a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll pay you guys back ASAP.” 

Jisoo snorts, “Don’t bother with me. I want your notes from last lecture though. We’ll call it even then.” 

You blink. “Seriously?” you ask because it seems like you’re getting the better deal. 

“Uh, yeah,” she replies, eyes incredulous at your surprise. “I skipped that day, and you have the best set of notes out of anyone who’s willing to share. Apart from Hoseok of course.” 

You blink at the mention of Hoseok who did not show up today. Seungcheol had mentioned it was something related to his family. You try not to be too bitter because Hoseok is truly the sweetest even though his special treatment drove you nuts. It’s not a secret that Hoseok skipped out on these meetings all the time, and he still had an open invite. Maybe that’s what happened when you were the son of a millionaire business tycoon. Sometimes you wonder if everyone just lets Hoseok get away with doing whatever he wanted because they all wanted to get a job at his mother’s company. 

It’s an ugly, recurring thought, and you have to kill it with fire regularly. 

“Do we have a deal?” Jisoo prompts when you don’t answer for a while, and you shake her head with a sigh when she thrusts it in your face. 

“Oh my god, yes, deal,” you giggle, swatting away her hand after a few moments. She always did have a penchant for the theatrical. 

“I wish Hoseok showed up today though,” Jisoo mentions, taking out her phone to check on her Instagram. “He would have probably covered the meal like he always does.” 

A lump of discomfort forms at her words. “He’s not a wallet, Jisoo.” 

“I know, but it’s not like he’d miss the money when he’s fucking loaded.” 

That’s not the point at all, but you don’t argue with her because there’s no way to win when she gets into an argumentative mood. 

*

The first thing you do when you leave the restaurant is open Twitter and check your direct messages. You only see five new messages, and among them three are spam - advertising things like free hookup services and the like. One message is a glorified sext (you block that one), and the other is an offer, albeit much lower than what you’re looking for. 

It’s with a bitter heart that you confirm the sale, letting twitter user @75649qx know that you’ll mail him your used panties for the low price of fifteen dollars. Factoring in shipping and underwear costs, you’ve made a grand total of seven dollars and change. This wasn’t even enough to pay back Chaeyoung for covering you at the restaurant. 

It’s with a heavy heart that you make the choice to walk home. You needed to save your bus fare if your sales were going to shit. 

“This is okay,” you tell yourself while trying to ignore the fact that you’re in heels, “It’ll be exercise.” 

You look behind you to see if the rest of the group was still loitering by the restaurant, but they’ve all left for a second round of drinks and fun. You are truly alone. 

A car honks loudly, and a voice calls out, “Hey, you’re still here?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you see Hoseok’s head peeking out at you through the window. 

“Hoseok!” You walk over to him, confused and a bit relieved to see a familiar face. “What are you doing here? I thought you had other plans?” 

He smiles, eyes crinkling in an affable manner. “Took care of everything as soon as I could. You know I’d never miss a meeting on purpose. Where is everyone else?” 

You shrug. “They left for drinks, but I needed to cut out early. Assignments...” You know you’re talking too much, revealing way too much for your statement to read as anything other than defensive. 

Hoseok nods slowly. “Ah... which assignments?” Of course he’d ask, of course. 

You swallow because you share nearly all of your required classes with him. “Just... online quizzes and projects-” 

“The ones that are due in two weeks or the projects that are due at the end of the semester?” he questions with a knowing look. 

“I like being ahead,” you lie, a true procrastinator through and through. You were probably just going to go home and marathon chick flicks. 

Hoseok smirks at how bad you are at lying, and you hear the soft click of a lock disengaging the passenger-side door of his Benz. “Get in loser, we’re going drinking.” 

“Hoseok-”

He gestures using his head, “Get in. I know for a fact Seungcheol is close to blacklisting you for the semester.” 

You groan, trudging over to open the handle of the door. “Hoseok, I’m broke,” you sigh as you shut the door and put your seat-belt on. “I can’t afford to go drinking every other day. I mean, I had to ask Little Chaeyoung to cover me for dinner. Fucking embarrassing!” 

Hoseok signals as he pulls away from curb. “Hey can you ask them where they are?” he says, completely ignoring your blabbering. “I don’t wanna get there too late...”

A quick text to Jisoo is enough to get the location, and you tell him. 

You open your wallet to fish out two dimes you had missed while trying to find money for dinner. “What can I possibly get for twenty cents?” 

Hoseok laughs, and you join him because this is entirely ridiculous. 

“Will you relax?” he finally says when he pulls up to the bar. “You know I’m gonna cover the bill. You may drink to your hearts content.” 

You frown, reminded of Jisoo’s careless statements. “It’s not right,” you tell Hoseok for the first time. The two of you weren’t spectacularly close, but you did interact with him from time to time. “People shouldn’t treat you this way.” 

“What way?” he asks, face looking as if he’s confused. You wonder if he’s playing dumb because there’s no way he never noticed how people always slid the bill towards him, or looked to him to cover the check. 

“They’re taking advantage. No,” you shake your head, “Not them - we. We are taking advantage of you, myself included. And it’s not right.” 

Hoseok’s smile freezes on his face for half a second, but it’s enough for you to know that you’re not wrong. He is quick to recover, and he looks at you with a soft gaze in his eyes that you don’t completely trust. 

“You’re sweet for thinking of me. But I’m doing this for purely selfish reasons,” he informs you. 

*

You get spectacularly drunk that night. 

In the following months to come, the members of the MBA Society would look back on this night and associate it to the night you and Hoseok began to “talk.” After all, you did arrive to the bar with him, get drunk on the booze he paid for, and left in his car because you were too drunk to walk in a straight line. No one else even brought a car, either planning on relying on public transportation or a taxi. The members would assume all sorts of things among themselves, the majority opinion being that you threw yourself on him while drunk out of your mind. Most of them discounted the idea that Hoseok would be the initiator of fucking your drunk self because he was too kind and good for anything like that. Some thought you may have just confessed your deep-seated, imaginary feelings for him. 

But the real reason anything at all started with Hoseok was something much simpler, and probably wholly unexpected - not that you ever planned on any of the other members of the MBA Society to find out. 

You leave your unlocked phone in his car before stumbling your way into your tiny, studio apartment. And he sees a twitter notification asking you for further discount on your panties. 

That is all it takes. 

*

Hangovers on Wednesdays are never a good sign, but here you are, on-time to your 8AM hell class with a head that pounds so bad you swear people could see the throbbing. 

“I lost my phone,” you groan, sliding next to Jisoo and slipping her your notes, as promised. 

“Actually, you didn’t,” comes Hoseok’s voice from behind you. You turn your head around and squint at him since he sits right in front of the brightest fucking window you’ve ever seen in your life. He truly looks like the sun made flesh at this angle. 

Hoseok hands you the phone you left in his car. 

“Fucking- Oh my god, thank you,” you gush, head spinning from relief. “You have no idea-”

“Interesting Twitter, by the way,” Hoseok says, effectively turning your insides into ice. 

“What,” you croak. 

Jisoo crinkles her nose in an adorable, confused expression. “You have a Twitter? Add me, bitch. How could you not contribute to my follower count?” 

“No!” you protest too loudly and too quickly to be considered polite. “I-I can’t. I’m too embarrassed...” 

You feel like you’re going to throw up at any second from the combined double whammy of the hangover deluxe special and Hoseok’s knowledge of your Twitter account. 

“What do you have on there that’s so embarrassing I can’t see?” she snorts. 

Your mind draws a giant blank, but thankfully Hoseok cuts in. “She runs an idol group fan Twitter. It’s wild.” 

Your friend rolls her eyes. “Never mind,” she tells you, “Don’t follow me. How old are you even?” 

Hoseok smiles at you, but you don’t have the heart nor the stomach to respond back in kind. What the hell was he even playing at? 

Three hours of class feel like torture, but at least it gives you time to come up with a valid excuse for what he saw. Judging from his reaction he didn’t seem like the type to out you, but you could never be sure with men. And despite his kindness, Hoseok was still a man, and therefore, inherently untrustworthy. 

You have a script, a speech, a monologue, a soliloquy - you have it all prepared by the time the lecturer grunts the final word. It’s all a joke, you’d say. It’s a prank, you’d tell him. 

“I need a drink after this class,” Jisoo whines. 

“You had enough drink yesterday,” Hoseok chuckles, and she raises a mischievous eyebrow at his words. 

“I held back yesterday,” she harrumphs, “I could’ve gone harder, but this one girl kept bugging me about how I was treating you like a wallet, so I held back.” Jisoo, that blunt bitch. 

Hoseok smirks. “Gee, I wonder who that is.” 

You grit your teeth. It’s now or never. “Hoseok, can I talk to you for a second? In private?” 

“Sure.” 

Hoseok’s easy acceptance feels weird, and you can feel the stares of Jisoo and a few other people looking at you weirdly. You barely talk to Hoseok, and he was on their radars all the time as a Prime Dating Candidate. No, you couldn’t do this here with too many eyes and ears.

“I’d…like to buy you coffee?” It comes out as a question. 

Your face burns as Hoseok has the nerve to act like he’s thinking about it. “Yeah, I have time for a quick cup of coffee.” 

You fake a smile. “Great.” 

“Super.”

“Peachy.”

*

How did one open up a conversation about being caught selling used panties to perverts online for pocket money to a young, twenty-something college male who’s net worth was somewhere in the millions thanks to his rich, mogul parents? 

Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee as you sit silently across from him. You’ve skipped a drink altogether even though the scent of hazelnut and vanilla wafting from his cup is enough to get you salivating for caffeine. 

“Do you, uh, want a sip?” Hoseok asks, following you line of sight. 

“No,” you answer in a clipped tone. 

“So what did you want to talk about?” 

“My Twitter,” you finally say through gritted teeth, “You saw my twitter.” 

Hoseok nods, fiddling with the flimsy, recycled paper that lined the body of his coffee cup. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Are you going to report me?” 

He raises his eyebrows, “Are you serious?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know, Hoseok. Can you just... tell me what you’re going to do with the information because I’m tired and hungover, and I feel like puking anytime I get a weird feeling you’re going to expose me.” 

Hoseok’s expression looks comically surprised. “I can’t believe you-” He cuts himself off, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again to fix you with a stern look. “I would never expose your private life.” 

“Then why did you have to go through my Twitter?” you ask bitterly, feeling more and more humiliated by the second. 

“Because...I’m a piece of shit, and I was curious,” he answers after a long pause. “I’m sorry.” 

The anger melts away faster than you expected, and you don’t know if its because you genuinely find the situation not worth getting mad over or if it was because of the sight of Hoseok’s contrite expression. 

“So you promise you’re not going to spread this around?” you ask once more, and Hoseok nods vigorously to your relief. “Then it’s cool.” 

“Just like that?” he asks. 

“It was my fault for leaving it in your car in the first place,” you concede. “Being curious is normal.” 

“What if,” Hoseok starts after a big gulp of coffee, “What if I followed you?” 

Now here was something unexpected. You honestly don’t know. Being followed on Twitter by strangers and selling to them under the guise of anonymity was one thing. Having Hoseok, a classmate and fellow society member, follow you was another thing. You bite your lips as you weigh your options. 

“Just don’t interfere in my sales…please.” 

Hoseok bites down his smile of excitement. “Cool.” 

“Are you some pervert?” you mutter, trying your best to stem the surprise that Hoseok was even curious at all about this instead of branding you a werido. 

“A little,” he coughs, “I guess...” 

You can’t take this anymore. “I’m- I’m- I’ve got to go,” you stammer, face feeling warmer by the second. 

“Wait,” Hoseok says before you can stand up to leave. “Can I just say one more thing?” 

He’s already come this far; you don’t know what else he could hit you with to surprise you. 

“Go for it,” you sigh. 

“I couldn’t help but to notice your sales numbers,” he mentions, and you wince. He called them your sales numbers. 

“Yeah, so?” 

Hoseok wets his lips. “They’re a little on the low side,” he explains. 

“If you’re just here to make fun of me, you can unfollow right now,” you pout. 

“No, no, no, no.” Hoseok is quick to dissuade you from that thought. “That’s not it at all. I just had, I don’t know, feedback? Maybe? On how to get more sales.” 

He keeps surprising you. 

“Okay...” 

Hoseok takes that as permission to continue, which it is. “Okay, see here you’ve pinned a tweet advertising underwear rates by how long you’ve worn them. That’s pretty standard for this field, but you’re not going to get anywhere with that kind of marketing. The field is full of girls selling their day-old panties for cheaper, which is why your sales are suffering. You need to change it up.” 

You don’t know what you should be more shocked about, the fact that he approaches this with the same type of academic lean as he would a class project or the fact that he even knew this niche market well at all.

“So how would I increase sales then?” you ask, deciding to just go with it and suffer later in your room, by yourself, with a bottle of hangover medicine. 

“Instead of selling by how long you’ve worn them, describe what you did in them. You’ll get more sales that way. Trust me. Like, did you exercise in them? Did you sweat? Did you touch yourself through them?” You make a choked noise of surprise at the turn of the conversation, something Hoseok decides to ignore in favor of making his point. “Imagine the pervert who bought your panties knowing you came in them.” 

“I... Oh,” you swallow. This sounded like something worth a try. 

“If you start selling panties you’ve touched yourself with, your sales will go through the roof. I would have thought that was obvious…” he continues. 

“It’s really not obvious at all.” 

“Really… hm…” Hoseok looks pensive and laughs after a beat. “Maybe it’s because I’m a pervert that I know this.”

*

Hoseok's words from earlier at the café leave you distracted for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. You're supposed to be sixty pages into your assigned reading with a full day's head start on the upcoming capstone project for the semester, but you've made zero progress. As much as you'd like to blame Hoseok, you know it's not his fault for speaking his mind since you allowed for him to put in his two cents in the first place. Your pathetic predisposition to fixate on anything and everything is the reason why you keep rewinding and replaying his words. 

It is all so... sordid. You never had any illusions as to why people bought your used underwear, but this would cross the final line in your eyes. 

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you open up Twitter and post: 

New! Selling 1 Pair of Panties (3 Days Old). Exercised in them for 2 hours. Heavy Sweat. DM for details.

You sell that pair for fifty dollars, and you’re hooked. 

Three nights later, you touch yourself in your bed, thoughts drifting in and out between various people but inevitably centering on Hoseok. You remember the café conversation and how his voice got into a lower rasp when he talked quietly about your used panties. And you don’t know why this gets you off, but it just does. You don’t want to think about it too much because it’s Hoseok and he was still your classmate. (You touch yourself three times to thoughts of him until your panties are gross and sticky.) 

Still flushed on your orgasms, you tweet, marveling at  how your mentions go through the roof from people wanting to buy. 

Hoseok is a fucking genius because after only a week, you’re officially two thousand followers richer with ten sales in the bag. You pay back Chaeyoung and Jisoo, and take them out for ice cream as interest. 

*

People suspect that you and Hoseok are dating when they see you at coffee shops and bars all over town. 

“They just don’t understand that it’s not a date,” you hiccup, yelling over the loud music of the club. “This is a business meeting.” 

Hoseok thinks you look adorable in that peplum top, and he tells you that. 

“You are so off-topic,” you giggle drunkenly, shaking your finger at him in a no-no-no sign. “Back to panty sales!” 

“Your quarterly projection looks great. Now can we get back to talking about how hot you look?” he flirts, and you feel amazed that you can tell he’s flirting big time. “Dance with me?” 

“What?” He holds out his hand, and you take it. “Business,” you purr into his ear as he maneuvers your body to face away from him on the dance floor. “This is Business.”

“Oh, I know,” he agrees, grinding into you deliciously. 

You close your eyes and let yourself go, enjoying the moment with Hoseok as he takes control and leads your body towards that satisfying, messy end. And before you lose it altogether, you grab onto his neck to make out with him in full view of everyone around - a true act of impulse. 

Hoseok drags you away from the masses and pushes you up against the dirty wall of the club when it becomes too much for him, breathless and laughing because you literally came in your pants in a crowded room full of drunk dancers - and it was all because of him. Your eyes are closed as you lean against the wall. You don’t care that it’s probably filthy because you feel more alive than ever. You can feel Hoseok’s breath puff lightly across your face. 

Hoseok leans over to talk straight into your ear. “Go on Twitter right now. Make a post about a lightning sale.” 

“But you said I should do one in a few weeks?” you ask, referring to yet another sales plan Hoseok had advised you.

He shakes his head. “Nope. Do it now. And type what I tell you to.” 

You open your app, fingers shaking as you type out the words as Hoseok dictates:

Lightning Sale. Bidding Ends 2:00AM. Condition: Wet, Fresh Orgasm After Clubbing. Will Send Immediately.

“Good girl,” he tells you after you post. Your phone vibrates with notifications, and you ignore them in favor of kissing him some more.

The next day, you decide to tweet and thank everyone who participated in the lightning sale. You see a notification from Hoseok’s Twitter handle. He likes your tweet.

*

It is a proven fact that when things go well and when you’re able to take a few steps forward, Ms. Bitter Bitch Life has a way of fucking things up tremendously so that it’s two steps forward and ninety steps back. Or in your case, $10,845.68 worth of steps back. 

You receive an automated text message from the university telling you that your recent tuition payment has been delinquent for thirty days and that they Absolutely Need to receive payment within a week. A quick call to mom reveals that medical expenses had to be covered, and you don’t fault her for not telling you when she had a small business to run and dad to take care of. 

“I actually got a part-time job,” you tell her, “And I’ve been saving up, so I think I’ll be able to pay this off.” You are speaking out of your ass because no, you have not been saving, but you’d do some calculations to see how many pairs of underwear you’d need to masturbate in to reach your tuition payment. 

Is it a surprise to you any longer that the first person you message about this is Hoseok and not Jisoo? You know for a fact Jisoo would judge the hell out of you for doing this in the first place, and at least Hoseok has helped you with getting sales done while providing some fantastic orgasms. 

You meet Hoseok at your coffee shop, and yes, you’ve started referring to various places you’ve been to with him as your place. (And the song to which he made you orgasm is now your song for whenever you needed to get in the mood.) 

“Don’t look down,” Hoseok tells you after you’ve spilled the beans. His mouth set into a firm line when he sees how embarrassed you look. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, so don’t look down.” You do as he says and fight the urge to look away. “Listen to everything I have to say, and don’t interrupt until I’m done. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

“You’re never going to sell that much in a week. And if you hike prices now, no one’s going to buy them, and you’ll be out of income moving forward. What you need is time, which you don’t have.” You face falls when you hear his words, but Hoseok isn’t done. “I can get you time. I’ll give you tuition money, and you can pay me back as you make sales.” 

There is a part of you that’s ashamed of being so relieved to hear Hoseok say that. And maybe that same ugly part of you wished for him to offer that to you when you told him in the first place. “I’ll take it. Thank you.” But you’re too practical to let your ideals get in the way of living.

And that’s what you do. You wonder if you should feel bad that you’re using Hoseok like this.

*

Accepting tuition money has now effectively changed things, and the two of you have crossed the point beyond no return. Neither of you say anything about it, choosing to accept this new reality and carry on. 

“Have fun with your boyfriend yesterday?” Jisoo snarks in good-natured teasing.

You frown, “I’m single. If you’re referring to Hoseok-”

“Of course I’m referring to Hoseok,” she giggles, “The boy never leaves your side!” 

“We’re not dating...” It’s business. 

It’s slow paying Hoseok back, but it’s getting there. As a gesture of thanks, you invite him to your tiny room for dinner. It’s only ramyeon and some side dishes, but you’re almost positive he’ll appreciate the gesture, and you’re right. Hoseok digs in with gusto to instant noodles loaded with all sorts of canned meats. 

“This is godly,” he exclaims, swallowingly thickly. 

“You’re godly,” you giggle, freezing because the statement slipped out, and you want to sink into the ground. But Hoseok, testament to his character only smiles and lets you move on with little embarrassment. 

Hoseok catches sight of your underwear packages that you have yet to ship out sometime in between dessert one and dessert two. It makes him feel… odd, and jealous. He pinpoints his emotions immediately and knows that he’s jealous as hell when it comes to you, and while it was fun teaching you “sales tips” and flirting along the way, he doesn’t want to share anymore. 

You message a few people, confirming shipments on twitter while he waits, and soon after you’re done he grabs your wrist to catch your attention. 

“I want to consider the tuition paid in full.” 

You furrow your brows. “I’m not even halfway done paying…” 

“I’ll let the dinner tonight be payment for the balance.” 

“Are you out of your mind? This was nothing-” 

“No it wasn’t,” Hoseok cuts you off, tugging at your wrist so that you walk closer to him. “This is not nothing, and I want for you stop selling your underwear to strangers.” 

You look him directly in the eye, having a good idea of what’s coming up, but you want to be sure. “This is how I live though.” 

“Before me.” Hoseok feels nervous as he thinks about what he’s about to offer. “I’ll let the ramyeon for tonight be payment for the rest of last month’s tuition. And I want to continue having ramyeon with you for tuition. It’s not a bad deal…” 

You’re not an idiot; you know what it means. And you had a good feeling you’d probably fuck him tonight even before he sprung this on you. You pull at your hand to have him let go. After a few moments of typing and swiping, you show him a deactivated twitter. 

“I’m shipping out the ones that are left, but I’ve deactivated.” 

“That’s fine. Because I’ll take care of you.”

*

[1 Semester Later]

Hoseok surprises you with another set of expensive lingerie. You’ve long since graduated from the plain white pairs you used to soil on purpose to sell. 

“Don’t get so excited,” Hoseok says, “They’re not for you.” 

You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok’s statement and decide to take a jab. “What, you’re going to wear them then?” 

He smirks. “Would you like that? You wanna see me in lace? I’ll do it if it gets you off. You like seeing men in lingerie?” He effectively shuts you up by going the extreme. You still blush after all this time, and he loves it.

“Ugh, stop. What are they for then?” 

He suppresses the urge to smile widely. “I want you to wear them. And I want you touch yourself.” 

“Hoseok…” 

“And when you’re done cumming…oh, let’s say five times? Yeah, five is a good number. I want you to take them off, and give them to me. For old times sake.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Did you buy from me once?” You had always suspected, but now you’re even more suspicious.

“I’m not telling.”