#Workday AMS Support

[techsagacorporation]

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[bright-and-burning]

today (and the next two days) i get to learn more GIS stuff yay MAPS!!!!! yay COORDINATE SYSTEMS!!!!! yay DATA!!!!!!!!!!!!

[techsagaus-blog]

Techsaga Corporations, with its team of expert consultants, not only provides the expertise needed but also offers a personalized and agile approach with workday application management service support to ensure seamless alignment with evolving business landscapes.

[pprodsuga]

never to keep | heeseung

summary: heeseung was always a natural scene stealer, capturing the hearts and attention of those around him. it seemed predestined that he'd pursue a life that would take him beyond the cosmos and leave behind the constellations he once treasured. it's too bad that you were one of them.

warnings: angst and typos, probably.

word count: 8.6K (shorter than previous works, forgive me)

notes: ahahah. this is a therapy piece ... currently dealing with similar themes of a friend prioritizing work and people who don't care for her over people who do, and i feel veryyy conflicted as of late. i, like yn, am not a plaything. why not turn it into a fic. anyway, enjoy and happy reading! x

masterlist + taglist

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

If you love someone, they will always come back to you. 

There’s no logic in love, only strong emotions that make people disregard all they know to chase the feeling of reckless abandon. Love is a wildcard that can catch even the most self-protective person off guard. You’ve read it in stories from childhood fairytales to watching strangers fall in love in your favorite books and television shows growing up. You believe the people who kiss on the screen must surely find an ounce of love, even if only for a brief moment. 

It’s no surprise that you’ve come to love Heeseung the way you do. To love him is to know him, even if he’s too tired to see you on the weekends or too occupied to sit next to you at the lunch period because of his days training to become an idol. What you know at this point in your life is that love is unconditional; supporting your best friend to pursue a dream he’s talked about since he could speak feels right. 

To love somebody doesn’t necessarily mean to devote oneself to the fullest extent, but somehow you feel as though this way of thinking never quite aligned with how you’ve come to love. Heeseung’s parents are a surrogate for your own, especially when it’s just you and your mother in the small, two bedroom apartment that sits on the edge of town and away from the city. They tuck you in at night during holidays and other special occasions when you’ve become too tired to drive back to your home. 

Minjun, Heeseung’s younger sister by four years, warmed up to you quicker than anyone had expected. The fierce girl had a protective streak over her brother once he grew into his height and learned that winking at pretty girls could get them to do whatever he asked of them within reason. Minjun doesn’t recall when she met you for the first time because she was likely too young to remember, but her sweet nature towards you speaks louder than you could’ve ever anticipated. 

Growing up with a single parent as an only child provides enough time to befriend loneliness. There are days spent idly in the apartment waiting for someone to keep you company, often wishing that the house was filled with people to keep the void full and lively. But now, because of the Lee family and how close you’ve become to their two children, it seems as if the idea of a central family is closer than you think. 

Heeseung didn’t expect for you to become a prominent fixture in his life when the two of you were partnered for a science project at the ripe age of thirteen. He’d experienced a growth spurt and acne for the first time simultaneously, growing insecure in himself with every day that passed by. Heeseung hadn’t anticipated you sitting with his family at the dinner table five years later, listening to a mundane story about his mother’s workday at a boring corporate-level position Heeseung doesn’t bother to remember. 

He never thought you’d be cooking with his father in the kitchen upon returning home from his training practices, talking about the art of seasoning as the meal preparations come to a finish. He doesn’t remember when you started coming over without the pretense of coming to see him either. Heeseung surely does not anticipate Minjun waiting for your arrival by the front windows just to insist on being the first person who welcomes you into their home. 

Naturally, Minjun becomes a recognizable face in your life because of how often she spends time with you and Heeseung. The young girl sets up her homework as the two of you begin yours, her schoolbooks significantly lighter than yours but you make conversation anyhow. 

“I think she likes you because you don’t treat her like she’s thirteen,” Heeseung says as he dries the dishes from dinner as you scrub them clean. “She hates it when people baby her.” 

“Sometimes I think I need to watch how I talk to Minjun.”

“No, you don’t. Minjun likes that you talk to her like a friend.”

“That’s what she is, no? A friend?”

“More than me?”

You flick water towards Heeseung. “Yes, if you keep teasing me.” 

“Seriously, though. Thanks for being nice to her. She complains that she’s the youngest out of everybody all the time.”

“I used to be like that.” You close the tap water and hand the last dish to Heeseung. “I hated being at the kids table when everybody else got to be an adult. Minjun’s at the age where she’s aware of it.” 

“God, we sound like her parents, or something.”

You bite back a smile. 

Caring for Heeseung is arguably the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He makes it simple when you receive a text from him hours before you wake up and just before you go to bed despite his busy schedule. You wonder at all how he manages to fit you into his life with all of his dreams and responsibilities, but Heeseung always tells you it’s because there’s room for you. 

Being so close to his family helps internalize the fact that you are a permanent fixture in his life. Mrs. Lee drops off baked goods on Saturday mornings most times because she knows your mother likes to eat a sweet treat with her bitter coffee. Mr. Lee goes out of his way to fix faulty ceiling fans or kitchen drains when he has the time to spare your income. Minjun gives you drawings from her art classes that sit on your refrigerator. Integrating their life within yours feels natural. 

Heeseung has always been somebody you’ve looked up to, poised for success after deciding he loved singing enough to make a career out of it. The eight-year-old boy who loved to choreograph dance numbers to famous songs carries this humble beginning when he talks about what life might look like for him when he’s crossed the threshold that separates his life from now. 

It seemed as though Heeseung’s dream of becoming an idol never seemed too far out of reach, even if he had his moments where he felt like giving up. Things always worked out for him in ways nobody could explain, like moving to a new city because of his mother’s job and making friends within an hour of transferring to a new middle school. Or the time when he’d auditioned to train under a management company and hadn’t heard back from them for weeks–Heeseung prepared to stop giving himself false hope for his future as an idol until the fateful email sat at the top of his inbox, welcoming him to the company. 

Life was always easier on Heeseung than it was for everybody else. 

You don’t see him much between classes because he’s on a special path created for people who are like him. People who are destined to debut as an idol are given certain exemptions to ensure quality education while having enough time to train in all areas of performance art. It took a while for Heeseung to get used to his new life and the new routine set in place for him but you were always there to remind him that this is what he wants more than anything in the world. All of the stress and frustration that comes with change, no matter how brutal or unnerving, will be worth it when he sees his dream to the end. 

You’re a young adult at this point in your life but it feels like you’ve aged beyond your peers because of circumstance. Spending time at the Lee residence when your mom’s at work or visiting her friends prevents you from feeling as lonely as you do in between four white walls that barely feel like home without someone else in it. Growing up quicker than your peers feels like something expected of you. Oftentimes, you wish you could maintain childlike innocence as Heeseung does, dreaming so big and far that everything seems like a possibility if you dreamed hard enough. 

Watching him dance and hearing him sing feels like a reminder that there’s more to life than what you know. Your best friend is your confidant and the person you see yourself in the most. The boys and girls who befriend him because of his good looks and potential stardom don’t matter much to either of you when the promise of lifelong friendship looms in the future. You can’t imagine Heeseung not being in it. 

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit at the dining table over a cup of post-dinner coffee while Minjun scrolls through her phone by the couch with a Netflix show you’ve never heard of on the television. Their soft murmurs have become a familiar background noise. You sit next to Minjun and peer over her shoulder. 

“I like these shoes a lot,” she tells you as she turns the phone for you to see. “All the girls in my grade are wearing these.” 

“Do you like them because you like them or because everyone else does?” 

She frowns. “What’s wrong with liking what other people like?” 

“Nothing, but if you’re going to buy flats just for them to sit in the back of your closet, that doesn’t seem like a good reason to have them.” 

Minjun has approached the age you’re all too familiar with. When you turned thirteen, the impending doom of fitting in hit you like a truck when you realized all of the girls in your grade had expensive clothes while you wore hand-me-downs from your cousins. Your backpack, which you had been using for three years because the straps weren’t broken, felt like a burden to carry when everybody else had pretty satchels. You felt juvenile in your too-worn sneakers and the two pairs of jeans you had sitting in your closet. But you were thirteen and your mother made enough money to make ends meet and put dinner on the table. Clothing and new school materials didn’t matter compared to eating before bed. 

Part of this insecurity has always followed you throughout childhood, especially when you were old enough to be aware of the fact that you were one of the few people in your grade who didn’t have a nuclear family. The kinds of families you’d see on the television didn’t exist in real life because while these programs taught its audiences the value of a good, stable home life, you’d been watching them alone while you waited for your mother to come home from work. There would be no dinner at the table with both of your parents because you knew there would be just her.

Watching Minjun grow up with two parents who dote on her feels bittersweet. It feels like watching a version of what could have been if only your father had chosen to stay in the picture instead of abandoning his family for a promising career in entertainment. Minjun’s petulance often reminds you that you were not privileged enough to have this kind of grace because of how rapidly your circumstances forced you to grow up faster than your peers did. 

There’s a small part of you that envies her life when you think about what yours could have been if he had stayed. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to watch your mother slave away at odd jobs to keep the lights on before finding a good, stable job after years of searching. Maybe you wouldn’t have felt so lonely in your adolescence because he’d take you to ice cream after school. Maybe the hollowness that remains inside of you would have been filled with joy and laughter on the holidays. 

“You’re right,” Minjun sighs, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Seri told me my outfit would’ve looked prettier if I wore these.” 

“People should keep their opinions to themselves.” 

Minjun nods. “Agreed.” 

Heeseung emerges from the kitchen a moment later and sits next to you on the couch. The dip in the cushion and his thigh being pressed against yours isn’t a new phenomenon, but the heat that creeps up your neck can’t be helped when he looks like a model from the corner of your eye. You swallow until your mouth feels dry to keep both Lee siblings from asking why you look like you’re about to explode. 

It’s easy to fall in love with Heeseung. All of the girls fawn over him already, a promising sign that Heeseung will likely be just fine when he debuts as an idol. He’s always been good with people and speaks in a way that makes people root for his success even if it was unintentional to begin with. He’s charming in a way that seems humble. Heeseung has a skill for making you feel like you are the only person in the room when he talks to you. You’re sure it’s why people feel drawn to him and why everybody loves being around Heeseung so much. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. 

Sometimes, you grow envious of how easy it is for Heeseung to get people to like him. Career prospects aside, it’s almost as if he can convince anyone he’s somebody worth being friends with. Cashiers love him because he doesn’t make small talk awkward. He’s not afraid to talk to strangers and strike up a conversation with somebody while waiting for his coffee order. Heeseung is bashful enough to come across as sincere and it seems to reel people in. 

He inspires you in ways that you can’t fathom but simultaneously reminds you that you’ve got no future or prospect. It’s unfair to compare yourself to your best friend, but being in such close proximity where people praise him next to you are constant reminders that your life hasn’t begun and you don’t know if it ever will. Your life feels stagnant compared to his exciting one. While Heeseung spends his days and nights perfecting his dance techniques and vocal skills, you sit in your room and wonder what life would be like if you could touch the moon. 

There are days where you wish you could be as suave and charming as he can be. You feel awkward around people you don’t know and limit yourself to new experiences when it feels too intimidating. You’re not somebody who’s confident enough to start a conversation, let alone with somebody you aren’t familiar with. Where Heeseung excels in the socializing department, you find yourself playing catch-up every time you see him befriend yet another person you aren’t familiar with. It’s a wonder how you two became as close as you are.

Meeting him had been by chance. You knew him from friends of friends and saw him in the hallways between class periods but never had a reason to talk to him until the two of you were partnered for a class project. The newfound partnership felt oddly comfortable from the minute Heeseung introduced himself to you with that same charming smile everyone knows him to have. His wit and humor brewed the perfect potion for you to feel like caring for him as deeply as you do would become inevitable. It wasn’t a bet on if you would fall for him as hard as you did, but when. 

You’re inclined to believe you keep it hidden well. Heeseung is far too oblivious most times to see you as anything other than his best friend. You’ve treated him like a friend far longer than you’ve liked him romantically, so acting as if you don’t have feelings for him is easy when you remind yourself that having him in your life would be better than the alternative. Still, you have moments where you yearn to hold his hand and kiss him before he leaves for practice. 

“Do you want to come to the next showcase this weekend?” Heeseung asks, nudging your side with his elbow. You pry your attention away from Minjun’s phone to look at him. “It’s gonna be a small one in the company theater. There’s going to be a bunch of important people in the industry. Allegedly.” 

“Of course I’ll come, Heeseung. This is you we’re talking about. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

The smile he gives you is blinding. 

“I really appreciate you supporting me, you know that? I don’t say it often, but I should. Thank you for always supporting me.” 

Your heart bursts. 

“I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t do at least that,” you tell him. 

“My parents and Minjun are gonna be there too so you won’t be alone.” He smiles at you like he knew you were worried about who to sit with, let alone if there’s going to be important people that could determine Heeseung’s career. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, an overwhelming feeling of shyness overtaking you. “It’s silly that you have to look out for me all the time.” 

“No, not silly,” he says immediately, pushing his head to your shoulder. You don’t imagine this position is very comfortable for him, but Heeseung seems keen on staying in this position. “We’re kids, Y/N. You don’t need to have your life together. I’ll always look out for you and walk you through it if that’s what you need.” 

You sigh. “You know, one day, you’re going to become so famous that you’ll inevitably be too busy for me.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No I won’t. Who checks up on me every day after practice? Who do I come to when I need to cry? Who do I invite to my home when I’m not even here?”

“Technically, your parents invite me over when you’re not here.” 

Heeseung pinches your thigh. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re not getting rid of me. It’s like, scientifically impossible to separate the two of us.” 

“Thanks, Hee.” You feel him nod against you before he lifts his head from your shoulder. “I just feel like I get in my own head sometimes. You know what you want to do for the rest of your life and I barely know what I want for breakfast tomorrow.” 

“We don’t always have to figure it out. I know saying that feels like bullshit because I’m training to become an idol but I’m serious. There are so many people we know who don’t know what they’re doing with their lives.” 

“It feels like my life could very well be over.”

“You’re being dramatic.” 

You make a face at him. “I know.” 

“You’ll find something for you, okay? You’re barely an adult anyway. You still have college and all of that shit to figure it out.” 

“You’re right.” 

“As always.” 

“Don’t push it, Heeseung.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Mr. and Mrs. Lee drive you to the showcase. They pick you up and the four of you have a quick dinner before heading over to the company’s theater and you feel somewhat like an important industry person when you’re given a badge with ‘VIP’ on it to signify that you’re part of the family and friends entourage. You see a group of people with clipboards and pens at the ready, dressed like they’ve just come from important meetings that determine the futures of each trainee. Perhaps that’s who they are. Some of these well-dressed individuals have younger people standing beside them, presumably assistants or something as such. 

It feels very formal and you’re wondering if the long skirt and long sleeve top you’re wearing is too childish. Everybody who looks important seems to be donning suits or dresses that make them look like they stepped out of a drama show. It doesn’t matter how many times you remind yourself that you’re young and not here to mingle with corporate executives. You still feel like the floor should swallow you whole and spit you out with a new wardrobe that matches everyone else’s. 

Heeseung’s parents chat with a few people they recognize and leave you and Minjun to fend for yourselves (or, rather, it feels that way). The young girl beside you hooks her arm with yours when you’ve been quiet for a moment too long and starts to lead you down the aisles. 

“Everyone in here looks so stuffy,” she whispers. “People working in entertainment should look like they’re having fun.” 

“I feel a little silly in this skirt,” you admit.

“You look great,” Minjun tells you as she bumps your hip with hers. “My mom made me wear this stupid dress that I can barely breathe in.” 

“I happen to think you look very cute, Minnie.” 

“But I don’t want to look cute,” she whines quietly. “I want to look like an adult.” 

“Yeah, well you can look like an adult when you are one. For now, just be happy that somebody finds you cute enough to do things for you.” 

Minjun wants to argue but doesn’t. In the time that she’s known you, there hasn’t been a reason for her to distrust anything you say to her because you’ve never had a reason to lie. It’s why she’s likely to listen to you over her own brother, a fact that Heeseung holds a mild grudge over. 

“I guess you’re right. I can’t even drive. I need people to drive me places.” 

You stifle a laugh. “Yeah, driving can be a pain sometimes. Enjoy your youth while you have it, okay?” Minjun rolls her eyes in a way that lets you know she’s joking. Being outwardly affectionate doesn’t seem to run in the Lee sibling genes, but you’d like to think you know them well enough to tell when they’re being genuine.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” 

You try to tell yourself that, too. When everybody finds their seats and when the showcase begins, you’re in awe of how many talented people there are in the room when you hear their incredible vocal abilities and make performing in front of a crowd look easy. It’s easy to spot Heeseung when he’s dancing with a group of people you’ve never seen before. He always looks as if he’s floating on air, moving his body in ways you can’t fathom and he makes learning difficult choreography seem like a walk in the park. You’ve heard him sing before but not to this extent. The steady tone he delivers when he dances amazes you beyond comprehension and Minjun would later swear that she saw stars in your eyes when you watched her brother perform like this for the first time. 

What Heeseung neglected to tell you was that he secured a solo spot after months of impressing his coaches. He performs one of his favorite songs and moves across the stage like he was always meant to be dancing on it. From here, Heeseung looks like a celestial being with the lights cascading down his body. You hold your breath the entire time he sings on that stage and clap the loudest when everybody gives him a standing ovation. You peek to the side to see the same, stuffy executives nodding after his performance and write down things on their clipboards that you can only hope are praises and nothing but. 

Heeseung’s parents make their way to the front of the stage when the house lights turn on. They talk to people you don’t recognize and you find yourself following them instead of looking like an awkward mess, as everybody else has chosen to stand from their seats and greet the performers that have come out from backstage. 

Your best friend looks magnificent with his makeup and the outfit he last performed in. He looks like a real idol in this light and pride swells within your chest when people applaud him for his incredible performance before he reaches you. His smile turns bigger when he sees you and Minjun approaching him behind his parents and makes his way to engulf you in a hug. 

“You’re here,” he breathes. 

“I’d always said I’d be here for you, didn’t I?”

“I think this was the most important showcase of my life.” 

It would be hard to ignore Heeseung’s arm wrapped around your waist like he’s done it a thousand times before. It’s true that the two of you aren’t strangers to physical touch, but he never lingers on you like he is now. Still, you chalk it up to overflowing happiness and you can sense that Heeseung is genuinely pleased with himself. He isn’t pretending that he performed well like he does when he avoids going home after practice in lieu of spending time with you in your mother’s apartment. 

“You’re fucking incredible,” Minjun praises. 

“Language,” Heeseung chides, removing his arm from your waist to pinch her cheek. “Thank you for coming too. Where are eomma and appa?” 

Minjun points to where they are. “I think they were waiting for you to come out and started talking to the coaches.” 

“We should make our way there.” 

“You should,” you tell him, pushing Heeesung towards his parents. “I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

“Nonsense.” Heeseung shakes his head and grabs your wrist as best as he can with multiple bodies trying to squeeze past the three of you. 

When Heeseung pulls you away, you’re sure to grab onto Minjun’s hand so she doesn’t get lost in a sea of people either. Mr. and Mrs. Lee beam when they see their son approaching and Heeseung drops your wrist in favor of being smothered with affection by his parents. You can tell he feels embarrassed to be doted on in front of his peers because of how his ears are turning red, but you sit back and laugh with Minjun when she points it out loud. 

You let them talk and watch as people clad in business attire approach Heeseung and his parents. You're not sure if Heeseung knows them or not but he smiles and shakes their hands, going so far as to bow to their assistants as well. He talks to them like he’s been in this business for decades, making people laugh and remaining as humble as ever when people praise his performance skill. You’re not sure how Heeseung handles all of this attention and praise at the same time, or even what it must feel like to be talented enough to have people approach you. 

As you observe everybody else, it’s clear that Heeseung is the star of tonight’s showcase. The other performers did a fantastic job as well, but something about your best friend draws executives to him, and you’re sure everyone who hasn’t spoken to Heeseung is waiting for their turn. It feels exhausting to watch people socialize. You can only guess how exhausted Heeseung might be. 

Minjun joins her parents a little while later at their request, leaving you alone for the time being. You pull your phone out and text your mom that you’re still at the showcase and will let her know when Mr. and Mrs. Lee drive you back to the apartment. You use this as an excuse to look busy, replying to a few friends that you didn’t have time to respond to before coming to the showcase. But those conversations are dry and leave you without a distraction. 

“Y/N, come here!” 

Heeseung calls your name and your head snaps to where he’s standing. He beckons you over with a wave and you awkwardly waddle to where he’s standing. His family aren’t with him and you wonder just how long you’ve been looking at your phone for. 

“This is my best friend, Y/N,” Heeseung says as he pulls you closer to him. “Y/N, meet Kim Namjoon. He’s the president and founder of Big Hit.”

“It’s lovely to meet you.” The bow is almost automatic and you’re sure to put on a good first impression to help any reputation Heeseung has with Namjoon. You bow at an angle that’s deeper than a common greeting but just shy of ninety-degrees. 

Namjoon returns in kind. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Heeseung’s a talented one, isn’t he?” 

“He’s the best at what he does,” you say earnestly. “I’ve never seen anybody work as hard as him in my entire life. Pardon if I’m overstepping, but I think Big Hit is incredibly lucky to have him.” 

He laughs at your politeness. “I feel the same. It’s not every day you come across someone who’s skilled at, well, everything.” 

“You know, when Heeseung and I were younger, we had this ongoing joke that he could master anything on the first try. I think it’s what makes him special, you know?”

“Guys, please don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Heeseung whines. His cheeks are red but both you and Namjoon laugh in good fun.

“There’s a reason why I chose Heeseung to be tonight’s soloist,” Namjoon informs. “This showcase is meant for people in the industry and if I’m being honest with you, I think you’ll be getting good remakes on your review.” 

Heeseung beams. “Wow…I don’t know what to say.”

“He says ‘thank you,’” you answer for him. “I can’t imagine what training must be like but I do know that all of it has paid off. Thank you for giving Heeseung a chance to prove himself.” 

There’s a glint in Namjoon’s eye. 

“Have you ever considered working in publicity?” Namjoon asks you. 

“No, why do you ask?”

“I think you’d have a real talent for it.” Namjoon says it in a way that feels too casual for a showcase, especially if he’s the one in charge of the company Heeseung is training under. “You speak well for Heeseung.” 

“Oh…thank you.” 

He turns to Heeseung and claps him on the back. “There’s more to being an idol than training and performing. You need people who know you and know the business. It’s important to make your career thrive because you can be the most talented person in the world, but if you don’t have the right people around you, none of that will matter.” 

Heeseung nods. “Y/N’s always been my champion.” 

“I can see.” Namjoon smiles at you. “Entertainment is not for the faint of heart and there’s more to it than being photographed. You need to be in the right places at the right time and know the right people who can get you there. That’s what publicity does for you. Y/N’s already doing it and she’s not working in entertainment yet.” 

Somehow, his words feel comforting. “I haven’t thought about what I want to do with my life but that seems like something I could do.” 

“It’s important work. Heeseung can perform the shit out of his solo but it doesn’t mean anything if he has nowhere to perform it.” 

Namjoon smiles at the both of you before his name is being called from behind him. 

“Great job on your solo, Heeseung.” He turns to you. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” He bows once more to the both of you before departing. 

“I feel like I’m buzzing,” Heeseung says as he puts an arm loosely around you. “It was like I was the only person in the room when I was performing, you know? The dance with the other guys was amazing and all of that but I feel like I was on another level when it was just me up there.” 

“You were incredible, Hee. I mean that. I don’t know a single person more talented than you.” 

Heeseung smiles down at you. 

“You know, it means a lot that you come to see me. Sometimes I wonder if people talk to me because they know I’m training to become an idol but you never make me feel like that. It feels natural and genuine. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, thanks.” 

You push him away from you, a giddy smile tugging on the edge of your lips. Heeseung is affectionate but less so in his vocabulary, choosing to tease you because it’s his way of letting you know he cares for you. Hearing him be so open and vulnerable tugs at your heartstrings and it makes you feel like you could achieve anything. 

“I’ll always be here for you, remember? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung’s life changes for the better after the night of the showcase when Namjoon tells him he’s secured a debut spot underneath their brand new label, Belift. Happiness flows within the Lee household and you’re nearly in tears when you realize all your best friend has worked for has finally paid off. 

But with it comes uncertainty and your fears are slowly becoming a reality when Heeseung stops talking to you as frequently as he used to. 

It comes with the job and you’re more than aware of how much Heeseung has on his plate between preparing for his debut and trying to fit in with the industry. You can’t imagine what life must be like for him now that his dream is just a few weeks away of becoming a reality but part of you wonders if it’s too difficult for him to keep you hanging on a leash. 

He calls his parents and Minjun as often as he gets. You know because Minjun swings by your mother’s apartment with Mrs. Lee on Saturday mornings to drop off baked goods, updating you on the latest she’s heard from her older brother. You try your best to quell your jealousy because they’re his family after all, but part of you feels like you have a right to call yourself his family too after all he said to you during the night of the showcase and all you’ve done for him. 

You’re sure Mr. and Mrs. Lee can sense it too. Heeseung no longer lives at home, having moved into his own dorm in the heart of Seoul, thirty minutes from you. You aren’t a stranger to their household without his presence but you’ve gradually stopped coming by unless Minjun calls you from Mrs. Lee’s phone to ask you to hang out. 

Texts and calls slowly diminish with his new line of work. You went from hearing from him every day to every other day, to nothing at all.

Seeing the blue delivered messages without any indication that he’s acknowledged you, makes you feel like a second priority. But you don’t know if you get the right to feel like this when you know how busy he is and the weight of his debut. Heeseung’s got one shot to make a good first impression and the last thing you want is to distract him from achieving his childhood dream of being a successful idol. 

Still, the silence stings.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung knows you’re waiting on him and ignores the pit in the bottom of his stomach that tells him to text you back. 

His new life has changed in ways he couldn’t fathom. When Namjoon told him the news about his debut and all of the details surrounding it, Heeseung felt as if the weight of the world was no longer a burden for him to carry, and that all he has ever wanted would eventually come to fruition. His new friends, namely the three guys around his age who have trained to become musicians, are people he gets along with more than he thought he would. Heeseung’s newfound excitement about the next chapter of his life takes him to new heights and he finds himself spending more time with Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon as they prepare for the debut showcase. 

Heeseung knows you’re waiting for him back at home but it’s so hard to focus on you when he’s wrapped up in his new life. Making time to see you is hard enough as it is and he knows you’re as patient as can be. In the years he’s been friends with you, Heeseung knows that your resilience knows no bounds and all that you’ve experienced in your lifetime has built the strong-willed, confident person he knows you to be. 

But his new life gets him caught up in the feeling of the present success. The three guys have known each other far longer than Heeseung has known them, only greeting each other in passing since all four of them were training in different areas of performance art. It wasn’t until they were living together that Heeseung started befriending them beyond practice and rehearsals. Jake’s the one who includes Heeseung the most on group outings or spending time playing video games in the living room. His entire life he’s been alone or with just you, seldom having a group of guys who just gets him. 

Heeseung tucks away the nagging feeling in the back of his head when he and Jay are preparing a meal for the four of them when he sees a text from you. 

hey hee, are you busy right now? it’s been a while since we hung out and i thought it would be nice to go get boba, or something. my treat !! <3

He shoves his phone in his back pocket before Jay can notice him staring at the screen. The message goes unanswered for the rest of the night as he basks in the company of his friends-slash-coworkers, the thought of getting boba with you far removed from his mind. Playing video games and getting to know the people he’ll likely be working with for the foreseeable future takes precedent. It’s what Heeseung keeps telling himself. 

After a while, the guilt no longer eats him alive. You’re busy focusing on graduating and preparing to attend university in the fall while he’s made his debut with his newfound best friends. It’s no surprise to anyone that Heeseung’s fanbase grows at a nearly alarming rate after he makes his debut. He grows popular with each day that passes and it feels like Heeseung has become the face of the newest generation overnight. 

He’ll wonder what you’re up to from time to time and let you know how he’s doing. Heeseung first sends a text to apologize, lying about not seeing your text sooner and that he’d love to get boba with you when he has the time. You tell him not to worry because you know he’s busy. He texts you pictures of his first performance and scenic pictures of the cities he visits because of his travel and promotion schedule. You update him on the end of the school year and how your mother is dealing with you moving away for college. 

The texts become sparse as the two of you resume your separate lives and Heeseung doesn’t realize that you don’t text him until the day of your graduation–the day that he was supposed to graduate if he hadn’t deferred to the trainee program–wishing him well and that you’re thinking of him. You send a video of yourself pulling your tassel over the graduation cap and he feels nothing for the lost time when he’s on his way to promote his first album overseas.

It’s for my career, he tells himself when he realizes how much time has passed since he thought of you. I’m doing what’s best for me and everybody else needs to get used to it.

It isn’t until Heeseung is permitted a few days off that he comes home per his parents’ request. He doesn’t tell them that he’s a bit homesick even though his dorm is a thirty minute drive, but it feels oceans away when his days are packed from morning until night. He tells his parents about his travels and what kinds of food he’s been eating when he’s overseas. Heeseung gifts Minjun all of the trinkets and souvenirs he bought from his time promoting his album, and what his future holds for him when he returns to his life as an idol. Mr. and Mrs. Lee applaud their son’s hard work, yet they can’t help but feel like there’s a piece of a puzzle missing because you aren’t here to celebrate with them. 

You make a visit at Minjun’s request. When you arrive, you’re stunned to learn that Heeseung is back at home and only has the evening until he needs to return to work. Heeseung can see the disappointment that festers in your eyes and the way your shoulder droops as you smile at him for his family’s sake, although he knows it’s false bravado because your grin doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

 He leads you upstairs to his bedroom when Mr. Lee insists that the two of you spend some time together after not having seen each other in ages. It feels awkward to be in his childhood bedroom with the door just slightly ajar at this moment, but it isn’t anything completely new.

What is new, however, is seeing that you’ve dyed your hair a different color and that you’ve gotten your ears pierced.

“You look good,” he says, lifting his hand to toy with the end of your hair. “It matches your skin tone nicely.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Did you do it recently? It looks fresh.” 

You don’t note that Heeseung also has a different hair color than his natural jet black. 

“Two weeks ago. My cousin did it for me.” 

He nods. “Nice. It looks good. I see that you’re wearing necklaces too.” 

“Yeah. I decided it was time to stop being a child and get it over with.”

“You know, you don’t have to do things if you don’t want to.” You throw a pointed look at Heeseung and it’s an expression he’s unfamiliar with. 

“I know. But I like earrings and that’s why I wanted to get them pierced.” 

Heeseung wipes his hand on his pants at the awkward tension in the room. He knows he’s to blame. His schedule and priorities have pulled him away from you and the life he’s built prior to debuting, but can anyone blame him? Can anyone blame him for not being able to balance his life when he’s been given the keys to a new empire? 

“Well, it was nice seeing you.” You throw a cheap smile in his direction and motion to open the door until Heeseung grabs your wrist, causing you to turn around. 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “You have an early day tomorrow.” 

Heeseung sharks his head. “It’s fine. I don’t have to be back in Seoul until ten anyway. I’ve missed you and I want to spend time with you before I absolutely have to fall asleep.” 

You scoff. “That’s real funny, Heeseung. You missed me but all of my texts and calls go unanswered.”

He frowns. “You know that I’m busy most days.” 

“And nights?” 

“I’m with the guys back at the dorm.” 

You poke your cheek with your tongue. 

“See, I would know all of this if you bothered to talk to me at all but it sees that your new life is treating you just fine.” 

You make another move to leave his room but he closes the door, startling you with the loud noise. He apologizes quietly and uses his body to block you from leaving for the time being. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy between promotion and rehearsal that it’s hard to keep track of who I keep up with and who I don’t.” 

“You’re talking to me like I’ve never seen you cry before,” you say with a disappointed sigh. “You act like I’m somebody you once knew in a past life.” 

“Not true. You’re my best friend.” 

“Best friends would bother to talk to each other. You know that, right? I don’t exist just so you can pick and choose when you need somebody to talk to. It makes me feel like you don’t actually care about me, Heeseung. It makes me feel like you’ve ever cared about our friendship unless you needed a shoulder to cry on and I was the first person who would listen to you.”

“That’s not true. I’m just busy.”

“I get that, I really do. But it’s been months, Heeseung. I know that I can’t have your attention all the time and I know I can’t see you as often as I did. But would it kill you to let me know you’re alive? The only time I hear about you is when other people talk about you or when I see you on billboards. That doesn’t feel like a friendship to me.”

His fists ball at his side and his frustration surfaces. Heeseung is frustrated at everyone–himself for being unable to say ‘no’ to his new friends, you for expecting so much of him, and his company for keeping him as busy as he is. But he doesn’t know how to communicate that, not when you��re standing in front of him, looking like he’s the villain in your life when he feels like he’s not. 

“Well that’s life, Y/N,” Heeseung settles. “Sometimes we need to learn when to prioritize things over others.” 

You laugh humorlessly. “Is that the hill you’re going to die on? You’re too busy to send a simple text back or let me know that you’re, I don’t know, okay?”

“You can’t be a priority all the time.”

“I know that. I’m not asking you to drop everything for me just because I called you. I’m asking you to treat me like somebody you care about, Heeseung. Is that too much to ask?” 

The anger Heeseung feels within him feels misplaced, but your inability to hear him about makes him even angrier. It’s unfair for you to demand such things of him when he’s pursuing everything he’s ever dreamed of.

“Yes, it is too much to ask,” Heeseung bites back. “You don’t understand the gravity of what I do for a living and it’s hard to appreciate it when you’re breathing down my neck. God, when did you become such a clingy person, Y/N? The world doesn’t revolve around you and I don’t owe you shit just because you can’t handle that I’m busier than you are.” 

“You’re kidding me, right?” 

“I’m being dead serious.” Heeseung steps away from the door. “You of all people know how badly I want this and now it’s like you’re not letting me enjoy what I’ve worked for. What kind of friend does that make you?” 

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can catch them. His need to be the victim in an uncertain period of his life causes him to misdirect his frustration with adapting to his new life and the proof is written all over your face. 

“Y/N, I didn’t mean–”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “Just don’t.”

Frozen, Heeseung watches you open his door with such force that it nearly slams into him. He’s quick on his feet to follow you downstairs where he sees his family looking perplexed when you’ve opened the front door without saying goodbye. 

“Y/N, I didn’t mean it!” Heesueng yells when you’ve crossed the threshold of his household. “Please come back inside.”

“You made it very clear that I have no place in your new life. Congratulations, I hope you’re happy.” 

You walk away while the deep feelings of disappointment and uncertainty settles in Heeseung’s chest. He walks back inside and closes the door behind him to see Minjun and his parents in a deep stupor, trying to make sense of the scene that has just unfolded before them. 

“What happened?” Mrs. Lee asks. 

“Y/N and I…” his voice cracks. “I don’t think we’re friends anymore.” 

The room is silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Minjun says without a smile. 

Heeseung wants to tell her that she’s wrong and whatever conversation they must’ve heard was a product of two friends having their first serious argument. Heeseung’s own frustrations towards his new life is something he doesn’t talk about often because he’s worked so hard to become the person he is, and it would be ungrateful to complain about what he has yearned for his entire life. It bottled up so much that hearing you accuse him of being a poor friend caused him to unravel and say things he doesn’t mean. 

Mrs. Lee beats him to speaking.

“Don’t say that, Minjun.” 

The young girl remains quiet and refuses to meet Heeseung’s eye.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

In the few years that follow, you resist rolling your eyes when you see Heeseung’s face in magazine ads and billboards across the city. Life takes you to university where you spend the next four years deciding on the rest of your life before you settle on something everybody said you’d be good at. 

Graduation approaches far sooner than you’d like and it becomes bittersweet when you see the Lee family, sans Heeseung, in the stadium next to your mom, who are all equally shedding tears as your name is called. Heeseung being absent feels hollow, like another reminder that people choose to leave your life without a moment’s notice but for the sake of keeping up appearances, you smile at the camera when you accept your diploma. 

It’s not a surprise to you when you find yourself working in entertainment like Kim Namjoon said you could all those years ago. 

A job is a job, but he was right when he told you this would be something you’d excel at. Day in and day out, your responsibilities differ as you begin working at Hybe, formerly Big Hit, to manage the profiles and public appearances of idols and other public figures alike. 

Heeseung doesn’t hear from you much. His parents update him on your coursework and send him photos of you at graduation. He cries every so often when he feels the urge to call you and tell you about his day, but doesn’t know whether he has the right to do that anymore. The years in his position has taught him what true life balance is, especially with the media and paparazzi taking an interest in his personal life. 

It feels so exhausting to have nobody you can depend on. These days, it’s just him and the three boys he met at the beginning of his career. Heeseung’s popularity has grown so much that he can’t tell up from down. It drowns him in a way he never anticipated and the politics of fame and the industry wasn’t something he accounted for when he began dreaming about a career in the performance space. 

Perhaps it’s why he spends his days feeling listless, like he’s got no real potential after achieving his dream. He knows his managers worry for his health and that the other trainees in the building can sense something has been off for a while. Maybe it’s why he roams the halls with headphones on to drown out the noise that’s become his everyday life, with talks of meetings and promotions and everything Heeseung wishes to get away from, if for only one day.

When Heeseung bumps into somebody on his way out of the company elevator, his first instinct is to lean down to collect the papers that have fallen haphazardly on the floor. He pushes his headphones until they rest around his neck and stands to hand them back to the person he bumped into. Only, he feels his body freeze when he sees who it is. 

Like Heeseung has always believed, if you really love someone, they will always come back to you. 

“Y/N?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ 

potential part two ft. the rest of enha … this was a therapy piece lol

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ 

taglist: @enha-stars @karinasbaby @baevsxii @lillotus17 @syzavxy @mrmld @nikilvrfvr @luvyev @notevenheretbh1 @wvnkoi @seungiesgf @kgneptun @judeduartewannabe @iheartjayke @wonsbubble @ilyjxdz @foggysfrog @oddracha @haechansbbg @tobiosbbyghorl @ryunjin0 @sharksandminhos @jungwoneez @alex-is-sleeping @minjaexvz @woninluv @engeneeee-168 @friendlyuser57 @moony-mari @trdhgg @sleepyhoon @sunghoonsgfreal @i02hoonz @riksaes @021894s @zeeloveshee @jwnghyuns @vhuteryh @cloudiesblog @awsome209 @fleurixzs @xiaoderrrr @marshwatz @aeripark0703 @bambangan @papichulomacy .

apologies to all tumblr wouldn't tag. :)

[i-yap]

Hi there! LOVE your thoughts on Jason like truly i <3 clingy Jason!!!!! What do you think a relationship would be like between Jason and a corporate baddie? Like she's serious, career-driven, and almost viciously ambitious, but for him? a total softie!! Like they just melt for each other despite the fact that they both put up a tough exterior to others!!

Omg i love that , here are my headcanons -

Jason todd x corporate baddie!y/n

I think the time schedules would be a mess. She works 9-5 and he 'works' 9pm-5am. But since she is a really career driven woman, I can see her sort of completing her extra or personal work/ international calls etc from the time that jason is vigilanting and therefore cutting her shift from like 9-3 or something similar. Since she gets all her work done, no one can say a word and honestly no one would dare to either way. Relstionship is about compromise and I think jason will cut down his vigilante time to get home to his stressed worker bee.

Jason prolly cant sleep without her so while she is at her job, he is working out or doing his other stuff. They catch up on sleep after her shift . This means afternoon cuddles !!( Ofc I am firm believer that jason should with time leave crime fighting and become an English professor )

I also love how most of her coworkers thinks she is prolly dating a Submissive type of guy or like a really serious professional dude cause she is so scary and strict . But then Jason- 6 feet something, huge asf, leather jacket, tattoos(maybe) and motorcycle dude walks in bringing her lunchbox( that looks so tiny in his hand). Yea now they're even more scared.

And I think everyone from jason's side also assumed that he'd either get a super cute-sy girl that will "fix him" or another vigilante girl that'll " make him worse". But he walks in with this poised, smart hardworking no nonsense woman and everyone's like DAMN

Damian loves you probably. He doesn't get how todd wooed you, like he thinks todd is a doofus. For once you are a normal (non crime fighting) girl that his brother is dating who is this career driven and also treats his brother properly. He loves talking business with you ( there was this scene where he figures out who is stealing money by looking at the finances at wayne enterprises) . and for once someone doesn't take him for a kid and actually wants to listen to pointers that he has. Tim prolly also loves talking to you about business cause he is a CEO too same thing for bruce.

Power couple fr.

but once you too get home...yea no one recognizes you.

Jason loves the fact that you show your soft side only to him. He has never been someones first choice in anything and this makes him feel so much more loved and cherished. and vice versa applies to you

he loves taking care of you after your long ass workday, helping you just be vulnerable and drop the whole tough act and be human. you do the same for him once he comes back at night. Just taking care of each other the way you guys need.

And you can bet jason knows how to be your biggest supporter. big raise? promotion? or just a good presentation?? He is genuinely excited for you.

Will give you back rubs when you've been sitting on the desk the whole day

will cook you brunch/snacks for when you come back and you will cook him breakfast/dinner for when he does .

it will take some compromise and adjustments but its all worth it and no price at all for loveeee.

[clitorises]

I see butch patriarchy sometimes and then my brain goes to, "What if...femme matriachy?" Seriously I just wanna be a dumb little housebutch who lives with my femme and our pets. Cook for her and buy her flowers ♡♡ maybe when she's had a bad day just bend her over the counter and rail her till she feels better.

I toy with the idea of having a housebutch sometimes but my reality is that I am far too bossy about the way my home is run to hand the domestic responsibilities over to somebody else… my ideal for this kind of setup would be a little twist on the more common femme housewife scenario. I imagine my butch working hard during the day, coming home all worn out, letting me pull them in by the tie to kiss them… they can always count on a warm home and a good meal waiting for them, candles burning and the table set. I’d be dressed up for them, ready to take good care of my toy, give them a little massage after dinner, working out any knots in their shoulders and listening to their little sounds of pleasure—it would feel so good to tell them it’s time to turn their brain off and serve me. After a long workday of making decisions and thinking soooo many thoughts, it’s time for them to let me purr in their ear, to tell them they don’t need to think anymore, they just need to relax and do exactly as Mistress says… tying them up and using them like a handsome dildo for hours until it’s time to tuck them into bed. It’s my responsibility to make sure they get enough rest, after all… and then in the morning I wake them up by sucking on their fingers, and I use them to get off again before I make them breakfast and send them back to work… working hard to support their Goddess, giving me everything I deserve, knowing I’ll care for them perfectly in return, my little kept toy, my perfect servant… I got carried away.

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Restoring the Roots (Joel Miller x Therapist! reader)

Chapter 1: Pre-Contemplation

Chapter 2 here | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | main masterlist |

Pairing: Joel Miller x therapist! reader, post outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Life after moving to Jackson looks drastically different for Joel, survival mode is over and now he and Ellie can finally put down new roots. Ellie adapts easily but Joel finds himself struggling to settle into this new life, in more ways than some. At Ellie and Tommy’s insistence, Joel begrudgingly finds himself in therapy to try and work through his struggles but what he encounters is more than just painful memories and deeply rooted trauma. A/N: I cannot say enough thank you's to the number of lovely humans who encouraged this idea and supported me as I embark on my very first fic! And what better Pedro character to be the guinea pig for this idea? Lots of this story draws on my personal knowledge as a social worker, as I am working towards becoming a certified equine assisted therapist. Consequently, there are lots of horsey terms, therapy terms, and vivid descriptions of trauma at certain points. Feel free like, comment, or reblog if you enjoy it :)

Taglist (for now): @beskarandblasters, @pr0ximamidnight, @theewokingdead, @atinylittlepain, @prolix-yuy, @swiftispunk, @harriedandharassed, @amywritesthings

If anyone wants to be on the taglist please let me know! If you don't want to be on it then also let me know lol.

~~~~~~~

You sat up taller in your chair, arching your back and rolling your shoulders in an effort to stretch out your spine, exhaling softly as you heard the cacophony of crunches and protests from your muscles. You had been hunched over your notepad for over an hour, eyebrows scrunched together and your mind running on autopilot, as you caught up on client notes that you had fallen behind on for the last couple days. The downside of having a small therapy practice, hell any therapy practice, was that there was a never ending litany of documentation to fill out. Seeing as you were the only therapist in the tiny commune of Jackson, there was never a shortage of clients and consequently, never a shortage of session notes that you had to write. 

“Hun.”

You hear your name spoken in a warm tone from behind you. You barely look up from the page as you try to rewrite the word ‘diagnosis’ after what feels like the fifth time. The word has basically lost all its meaning at this point. 

“Honey, c’mon, the sun is about ready to set and you can wrap that up tomorrow.” The cover page to the notepad closes on top of your hand and you look up to see your assistant, Tracey, giving you a knowing look and then glancing towards the front of the office. You follow her gaze to the front windows and take in the deep ember orange hue washing over the business faces and windows on the opposite side of the street, signaling the end of another day. Sighing softly, you lean back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest with a frown. You know she’s right and yet you still have the same dispute every day. 

“Trace, you and I both know that if I don’t get them done today, they will just be added to tomorrow’s to do list, besides this is the last one I swear,” you say to her with a smirk, as if she has not heard that excuse before. 

You were never the kind of person to half-ass your responsibilities at your job, including client documentation, even if there was no longer any governing body or association to uphold professional social work standards. You did your job with integrity, even the mundane administrative tasks that involved more writing than actual talking with clients. Tracey knew this of course, it was something she admired about you, how suited you were for this line of work. It was clear that you cared deeply for the clients that you supported. But it doesn’t mean it was not a fight when the end of the workday rolled around and she had to tear you away from your desk and practically shove you out of the office door. 

She rolled her eyes at you and her lips curled into a small smile as she headed towards the door with her coat and bag in tow. “Promise me you will at least be out of here before the night patrol starts?” She points her finger at you as she stops just ahead of the door. You nod and wave her off as you turn your focus back to the notepad, smoothing your palm over the words etched into the cover ‘Restorative Reins.’ 

You had only been in Jackson for roughly over a month, though it felt like much longer. Much like everyone else who had survived the outbreak and came to find refuge in the small settlement after the world went to shit, you were grateful to accept any basic decencies of normal life that were afforded to you. Warm meals, warm showers, hell running water in general was a miracle in and of itself at that point. So when you actually arrived in Jackson, you were dumbfounded to see how much normalcy surrounded you. Children running and playing in the streets, storefronts of various thriving businesses, sheep being rounded up in a nearby corral - hold on, a fucking MOVIE THEATER? 

While it took some time to grow out of the perpetual fight or flight mode that you were entrenched in from life on the road, you did eventually fall into a good pace in Jackson. Especially after getting involved in the community and taking up the job as the local therapist, you had never been busier, and you loved it. 

The world felt unflinchingly obsolete post outbreak, but being able to support others with their mental health never failed to bring you joy and an unshakeable sense of purpose. You wanted to help others as they navigated their pain and broke down the mental blocks that entrapped them in their trauma. You wanted to help them realize the innate strength that they possessed. Sadly, you never got the chance to practice long term, as you finished up grad school just before the outbreak happened. But that didn’t seem to matter now as you had an endless stream of community members that you saw on a weekly basis at your practice, all with their own pain and struggles, seeking support.

It was crazy to think about the short period of time that had passed since you started at the job, how much you had done for the residents, how much more that you wanted to do. You were pulled from your memories when the office phone rang, internally groaning as you looked at your watch.

4:58 p.m. Of course. 

Steeling yourself you picked up the phone, praying that it was a quick call.

“Restorative Reins Practice, how can I help you?” you answered.

“Oh! hi ma'am,” a warm, mellow Southern drawl greets you on the other end. “Are you the local therapist that has been helpin’ folks out around here with their mental health?”

"That's me,” you reply warmly, “what can I do for you?”

The man hesitates briefly, “Well, I was uh wanting to know a bit more about the business I guess, how the therapy process works, fees and stuff for someone who was interested in getting help. Not me though, it’s not for me, it’s for my brother, Joel. My name is Tommy by the way,” he mentions quickly. 

“No problem Tommy, I can explain the basics to you including the different types of therapy I offer and how the process works,” you reassure him. You explain to him the different services, how the equine therapy worked, walk in hours, session lengths and so on. 

“I should probably mention that my brother ain’t keen on getting help and reaching out to others when he needs it, he’s too damn proud to acknowledge it, so he really doesn’t think he has any issues and thinks everything is fine… but he’s having a real tough time settlin’ down here. He’s so haunted by his past and he’s been acting differently lately, more temperamental, well, more than usual,” Tommy adds. You smile to yourself and nod, as you’ve had many clients before who were stuck in similar struggles and closed off to therapy initially.

“I can definitely understand that,” you sympathize with him. “It sounds like your brother has been through a lot and you just want him to get some support, which is great. Therapy isn’t for everybody but I have worked with many individuals like him who were going through similar situations, and they found great success.”

“That’s great to hear. That’s all I want for him is to get some help,” Tommy states.

“Now with that being said,” you continue, “therapy is voluntary, I cannot force someone to attend, but if your brother would agree to a consultation with me, I could chat with him more about where he is at, the kind of support he could benefit from and go from there. No pressure to commit to anything,” you propose to him.

“Hmm, I think he could be persuaded to try that, now that you mention it like that,” Tommy chuckles, sounding pleasantly surprised. 

“Awesome! You can tell him to stop by the office any time and we can discuss it more. We’re open from 9-5,” you tell him, silently relieved that it was an indeed quick call. He thanks you and hangs up. 

Something else akin to curiosity creeps into your mind as you recount what Tommy briefly told you about his brother. Maybe more so intrigue. You wonder how resistant he is to therapy, what happened in his past to hurt him so deeply, but you catch yourself before your thoughts run away from you further, either way you look forward to helping another person in need. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tommy, I swear to god if you bring up this damn therapy shit again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you next time we’re out on patrol,” Joel growled through clenched teeth, as he walked away from his brother into the kitchen of the house. 

“Boy, it ain’t like I never heard that before,” Tommy quipped sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he followed Joel into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway as he leaned against the frame, hands shoved into his pockets. He observed his brother's rigid stance, the tightness in his shoulders, as Joel stood over the sink, looking out the window. 

This felt like the umpteenth time that Tommy had broached the subject of Joel getting help and talking to a ‘shrink,’ as he dismissively described it, for the issues that he was struggling with. Joel was fine. He didn’t have any fucking issues. He was doing just fine and didn’t need some professional to scrutinize him, reduce him to his vices, and open old wounds from his past life. He was encouraged to go to grief counseling after Sarah died but by some grace of God, or whatever godforsaken omnipotent entity existed at that point, the outbreak occurred. Forget mental health, physical health and survival became the only focus.

Tommy exhaled softly. “Listen, I'm only suggestin’ it because I care about you. Ellie cares about you. You both have been through hell and back in the last year, I mean shit, we all have. But it seems like everything y’all went through is still affecting you, holding you back from letting your guard down and settling in here,” he states plainly, sadness lacing his tone. 

“That’s bullshit Tommy and you know it,” Joel snaps, turning to face his younger brother and leaning back against the counter, arms crossed in defense. His gaze narrows.  “I go out on patrol don’t I? Pick up extra shifts wherever it’s needed, help out with the contracting jobs, go out with Ellie in town.” Joel stood up taller, puffing out his chest, challenging his younger brother. Tommy shook his head, running his hand over his face with an exasperated expression. Heaven forbid Joel did anything for himself that did not involve contributing or providing for someone, period. He just couldn’t shake that from his identity, and it broke Tommy’s heart as he watched his brother’s stubborn pride, ridden with guilt and trauma, swallow him whole. 

“Man when are you gonna fuckin’ do something for yourself Joel?!” Tommy asserted, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “Forget the damn commune, forget the community, forget Ellie for a sec and think about the last time YOU did something for yourself, the last time YOU reached out for help goddamnit.” He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the threshold of the kitchen as he strode towards Joel.

“You’re not on the run anymore brother. You don’t have to just survive. You can have a life here. You can sleep without keepin’ one eye open and relax without lookin’ over your shoulder. Don’t you want that? Don’t you think you deserve that?! Don’t you think you deserve this?!” Tommy said as he gestured around the cozy kitchen and fixed his older brother with a pleading stare. 

Joel’s eyes widened as he tried to step back, the edge of the counter biting into his lower back as he took in Tommy’s weary face, the pain in his soft brown eyes, mirroring his own. His younger brother rarely raised his voice anymore. The outbreak took its toll on his hot headed temperament that never seemed to simmer down, even after he was discharged from the army. Joel knew that Tommy cared about him, hell he knew how deeply his brother loved him, after all they had respectively been through in the last twenty years, it had to be serious for him to raise his voice. 

Joel opened his mouth, ready to bite back but his brother raised his hands in the air in surrender, “Look, this is the last time I will bring this up, I swear. But yesterday I called up the therapist in town who’s been helpin’ folks out, and asked her about the therapy process and she seems real nice, and supportive. She said you could come in for a consultation and talk to her and see if you’re interested,” Tommy said quietly.

Joel’s gaze narrows as he scrunches his eyebrows together in incredulity, “You-”

“I had nothing to lose Joel. Absolutely nothing. And neither do you,” Tommy cuts him off, raising his chin in defiance. “At least go talk to the therapist, if you don’t like her or you’re not feelin’ it, then I’ll drop it and let it go. Okay? The office is on the main street, just beside the clothing store, adjacent to the stables and they’re open everyday from 9-5.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy,” Joel leaned back as he looked up at the ceiling, wishing it would collapse in on him. Gotta love that brotherly love.  

“Look I should be getting back now, Maria will be waiting for me. Here’s the number and address for the business. I’ll see you around okay?” Tommy patted through his pockets and retrieved a small piece of paper with writing scribbled on it, placing it on the counter beside Joel. He gave him a last placating look before he walked out of the kitchen, the front door closing behind him with a soft click. 

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply before turning back around to look out the kitchen window. He hung his head in defeat, rounding his back as he rested his elbows on the counter and glared into his matte reflection in the sink. He didn’t need any help. He was doing fine. He’s still upright and breathing, with blood coursing through his veins isn’t he? Albeit, he's not jumping out of bed like a sprightly thirty year old anymore. His knees pop and crackle when he gets up from crouching over machinery for too long, his joints protest the next day when he pushes himself too far, moving slower than usual on job sites. 

Hell, even his memory is starting to get cloudy around the edges. If it weren’t for Ellie some days, he’s sure he would leave the house without pants on, what with her always reminding him where things are in the house, special events that are coming up in the community that he forgets about. He had been a bit more snappy than usual, as Ellie so lovingly pointed out one day, but that’s nothing compared to his normal demeanour. 

“You’re becoming a grumpy motherfucker y'know that? Jeez, who shit in your cornflakes this morning?” She grumbled at him with a mouth full of cereal, after he snapped at her reminder that it was parent day at the local school. Parent day, P.A. day, Joel hadn’t dealt with any of this shit in over twenty years since Sarah was in school. Even then he managed to swiftly neglect many of the parental events, seeing as Sarah was the perfect student, with nothing but glowing reviews from her teachers. The fact that Ellie was going to school amidst a fucking apocalypse was enough for Joel to be content. 

But still, he’s doing fine, right? Just fine. 

“Maybe talking to someone that’s not related to you would help you, y’know? Being able to talk about shit that you can’t talk to me, or Tommy, or anyone else about you know?” Ellie proposed to him later that night.

As luck would have it, she was already home when Joel and Tommy spoke in the kitchen and she had heard pretty much the entire conversation. And like Tommy, she only wanted Joel to get support because she cared about him. 

“Think of all the shit that we went through in the past year, forget the infected, and the raiders, and FEDRA, and almost dying,” she casually listed off on one hand as if she was reciting a grocery list.

“There's so much shit that we’re both carrying with us, demons from our past, and it’s gotta come out one way or another. Look, therapists aren’t there to judge you, or analyze you,” she continued, “they’re kind of like a sounding board for you to bounce your thoughts off of, and they help you process shit you’re going through. You never know unless you try it,” she said matter of factly. 

“Like Tommy said, you got nothing to lose man. Plus the whiskey and pills will only help you numb reality for so long, you’re gonna go insane eventually,” she said, fixing him with a knowing look as she leaned back into the couch beside him.

Joel just grunted in response and frowned. Damn this kid for being too insightful for her own good.

Ellie might be young but she most certainly wasn’t naive. And as much as Joel would have liked to assume that her easy transition into life in Jackson was on account of her youthfulness, it really wasn’t. It was just the fact that she had never known a normal life, as heartbreaking as that was. She never had the chance to experience such normalcy before everything turned on its head. But she developed friendships with a few of the other teens in the community, namely one girl Dina, who she hung out with after school, went to the movies and other community events with.

She didn’t have to actively try to fit into Jackson, she just did. Joel would never acknowledge the pangs of jealousy he felt gnawing at his insides when he saw her getting on so well, but it didn’t mean they chipped away at his morale any less. 

Ellie smirked at his lack of response, knowing he was mulling it over in his mind. With the relationship they had developed over the past year, she was grateful to be able to talk to Joel and actually get through to him.

“Damn maybe I should be a fuckin’ therapist, that was good advice wasn’t it?” she grinned at him, elbowing him in his side.

Joel snorted and shook his head. “Christ, I must be losing my mind for real this time if you’ve got me considering it.”

“Now c’mon,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, “you owe me at least a few games of Boggle for that pep talk,” she said triumphantly, holding up the weathered board game that was on the coffee table.

[aristotels]

How would a "proletariat artist" that doesn't already work for a big name studio even be expected to earn an income after a proletarian revolution, assuming they don't just take up a different career path and do art strictly as a hobby from that point on? (Sorry if this ask got sent twice, my internet's glitchy today)

well, jobs for artists wont just disappear over night, art is very much neccessary. there will still be need for design, for entertainment, all kinds of things. proleteriat isnt expected to just live and work.

if you wonder what happens to independent artists, theres also no need to worry. i do live in a capitalist country as do most of us in this hemisphere, but i have something called "independent artist" status, which means my art is supported by the state, and i had to go through a whole ordeal to show that i, to quote, contribute to the culture of the country. i am expected to constantly work on art, i have a duty to participate in public exhibitions, and so on. in return my healthcare and my pension are covered by the state. i am also relieved of taxes which means that i get a good tax return. all of this is not much because, well, its still a capitalist country.

also my country supports art through frequent grants; grants for novels, writers, movie scripts, productions, art exhibitions, etc. i cant live solely off that, but obv, in socialism things would be a bit different and art would be more affordable to the proleteriat to enjoy, and it would be funded because art is not a luxury but a neccessity to the public life. whats the point of a 6 (or less) hours workday if you cant go see a movie or a play or read a book after it?

in fact id say that independent artists would be MUCH better off under socialism. i dont have to worry about my pension or healthcare, i am able to apply for grants and that way fund myself. i make nothing from commissions and the capital market is terrifying; if i relied solely upon that, i probably wouldnt be able to make art. so far the grants i got from the state have been the most reliable ones.

and this is all in an ex-socialist country so i assume that under socialism it could only improve. it would be a liberation for the artists, not the opposite. i think its clear to say weve all seen soviet animated films, works of their painters, then yugoslavian sculpture and animation which received the first short animated oscar in europe. i rly dont understand why my fellow colleagues are so terrified that they keep siding with the burgeoisie interests which are the ones keeping them in their chains. art doesnt stop and it wont disappear.

[turbobyakuren]

Today, on the 26th of June, is the... Wow. 10th birthday of my OC project, MagiMonsters!

ONCE AGAIN I have unfortunately prepared nothing this year for this event, despite hitting a milestone. I tend to be very busy and tired these days, and I've never been one for planning, except one time in october last year. The drawing fever came back, though, and that's a good thing! And now that my studies are finally over and that I have more time for myself (workdays notwithstanding), the motivation to make more MagiMonsters drawings, designs, stories, etc. has come back! For now, most of these is treasured inside my brain. I want to tell those stories a lot, but it's an effort I haven't managed to channel into something concrete as of yet. Like I said, I've never been one for planning.

So instead, to celebrate nonetheless, I've made a little compilation of most of the Yuzuki Drawings I've done over the past 10 years, from 2015 to 2024. Yuzuki is the de facto poster girl of MagiMonsters (although the actual mascot is Moriko), so she is representative of my evolution as an artist, both writing- and drawing-wise. This OC project was the main force behind my desire to learn how to draw, and I'm very happy that, after around 10 years of work, I have achieved a style I am comfortable with. It's truly great to sit down and think, "Wow, this is what I had in mind!".

To conclude, I want to thank all the friends, all the people who support me, are interested in my little creations, are willing to lend an ear to what I have in mind, and help me with this project or just wanna say they like what I do with it. I also want to thank all my artist friends for inspiring me through their art and for drawing art of my OCs whenever they can. It truly means a lot to me, and it encourages me to push myself even further and experiment new things. I hope I can finally start producing something that showcases my stories and my little universe of magical monster girls. Yahoo!

[techsagacorporation]

Choosing the right Workday AMS Support services in USA is a strategic decision that requires careful consideration of various factors. By defining your requirements, checking credentials, assessing industry experience, evaluating technical and functional expertise, considering communication skills, ensuring scalability, and understanding the cost structure, you can make an informed decision that aligns with your organization’s goals.

[hanayori89]

🌻 Hello all- I just wrote this little one (two it’s a two) shot. My mother recently passed away on 1/24. My existence feels hollow. Writing is the only thing keeping me grounded, the only thing that makes me feel like myself when I feel I don’t know who I am. When you read this little works you’re supporting not just a writer- but a grieving human. Thank you 🌻❤️

A Little Too Not Over You

“Hey, watch it!”

A rotund woman ran into you, causing you to ricochet backward and stumble off the curb. You watched as she stopped, shifting her weight back and forth on her feet. The sheer trace of her underwear beneath her shoddy dress told you she wasn't wearing much else beneath it. She continued forward, hurriedly crab-walking as she winced from her seismic thighs slapping together.

You grimaced, feeling the phantom sting of chafing between your own thighs.

"Hurry! Someone said he was down here!"

The racket of charging feet stomping against the pavement made you duck for cover.

"SQUEE!!!!"

You watched from behind an empty stall as a throng of rowdy, jubilant women of all ages, shapes, and colors came stampeding down the street.

"For Din's sake..." You muttered in disbelief.

Today was the biggest delivery day of the month, and your cargo now sat, ripped and dented from the abuse of hordes of running feet. After you discerned the coast was clear of all signs of estrogen besides your own, you ran toward your box and retrieved it. You squinted as you read the delivery address on the mottled label.

Bombchu Bowling Alley.

You hoisted the precious cargo on your shoulder, relieved that it would be your last delivery of the day. On an average workday, Castle Town never took you nearly as long as it did today. But whatever had the citizens in a tizzy also threw your schedule into the same energy of disarray.

You glanced upward, admiring the way the dark dusk clouds patted down what little light of the sun remained. The drawbridge that connected Castle Town to Hyrule Field would soon close, blocking any visitors from leaving or entering.

With that thought in mind, you scurried down to the Bombchu Bowling Alley, relieved that with the promise of night came the promise of the end of your shift.

🧚

"Well, I'll be. Are you actually awake during your shift?" You greeted your friend, Ally, the clerk who ran Bombchu Bowling.

She gave you a wistful sigh. "If I actually had customers, I wouldn't be over here falling asleep." She jumped over the counter; her magenta pinstriped crop top revealed her chiseled abs, which came as a surprise considering she seemed to sleep for a living.

"Got my goods?"

"Got my money?"

Ally fluttered her caked lashes at you in amusement. "Always right to the point." She reached into her pocket, fishing out the rupees she owed you. "You really saved my hide doing this freight business; your costs are much cheaper than those of Lon Lon."

"Well, I won't talk ill of Malon; we are friends after all. But she has her hands full these days and running a farm ain't cheap. Besides, I love to explore Hyrule. Especially since-" You stopped yourself from saying it.

The words seemed to be obnoxious and loud, despite not leaving your mouth. "He's never once come back to see you?"

"He's a hero now. Why would he?" Your voice rose as your wounded ego flared. "Besides, I have my business and my life now. I appreciate the time we spent as kids and what he's done for Hyrule, but I've moved on, and I'm sure he has too."

"Have you, though?"

Your mouth shot open in protest. "What's that supposed to mean?" You didn't need to prove to Ally or anyone that you were over Link.

So, what if you saw his stupid face every night for seven years since he left?

Or that you sometimes sat outside of the Kokiri woods by the tree you both met.

Or the fact that every date you've ever been on always left you empty because no one seemed to compare.

So, what?

"Y/N," Ally said your name as if she were a medic about to tell you that you had a terminal illness. The empathy in her voice was present, albeit earnest. "Did you see the crowds gathering today?"

You nodded. "How in Hylia could I not see them? It would be like not seeing King Jabu Jabu in Zora's Domain. I almost got run over! This one woman-"

"He's come home."

"He?"

"The Hero...er- Link, he's returned. He's here, in Castletown."

"Link? Link has come back?"

Her eyebrows rose in concern as you let out a bitter laugh.

"Y/N-"

"So, Link has come home? That's what those females were fussing over? How pathetic." The venom that coursed through your veins over Link's abandonment somehow didn't manage to overshadow your curiosity as to what he looked like after all this time. You stopped entertaining the thought. "They can have him and all the tears they'll cry when he leaves them too."

You left Ally standing there with her unopened order. You walked towards the door, your throat raw with the taste of acid. "Let me know if there's any issue with your order. Have a good night."

You didn't bother to look her way as you slammed the door shut behind you.

Link had returned.

So, what?

🧚🏿

"Why are you crying?"

A boy with eyes haunted by unwelcome duty ran past you. He turned toward you, surprised, as you revealed yourself from behind a tree.

"Why are you sad? Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

“I'm supposed to go meet Princess Zelda. But I won't make it. I'm going to die."

You tilted your head at the boy's assured declaration. "How are you so sure you're going to die?"

"Look at me! I am a Kokiri! If we leave the forest, I'll die! That's why Saria looked so sad. She must have known she'd never see me again. She must have known..."

You walked up to the sullen boy swathed in green. Drawing your arm back, you walloped him in the shoulder.

"HEY!" He growled.

You began to laugh hysterically. "Silly forest boy, if you were dead, that wouldn't have hurt. There is no pain after death."

He began to begrudgingly blink with recognition. "So then, it's true. I am not one of them after all. I am not a Kokiri." His eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Apparently not because you're very much alive."

He looked at you. "I must go to the princess." He didn't ask you to escort him, but something in the way he spoke made you silently understand that you were to accompany him.

"Come on, I'll take you as far as I can."

"Thank you."

You both traversed Hyrule Field together with chatter that had such ease it caused time to pass with lamentable haste. As you approached the drawbridge that led to Castle Town, you could feel the boy's aquamarine eyes overtly examining you.

You gave him a playful side-eye. "Don't go falling in love over there."

Little did you know, you would eat those words for seven years straight.

🧚🏽

"Wait! Hey, Wait!"

Two guards stood; their gargantuan helmets eclipsed their vision but left their prickly and soured lips on display. They ignored your begging and continued to crank the bridge upward; the hinges were in desperate need of lube to ease the egregious grinding sound that filled the air.

"Wait! I need to leave! My cargo wagon is outside!"

One of the guards looked at you and scoffed. "Rules are rules, little miss. This bridge closes at 7 p.m., as it always has for years. You know better."

You stomped your foot. "It's 6:58! If you're not going to let me leave, then I fully expect to be compensated with a room at an inn since you cannot be so kind as to let me pass."

Both of the guards exchanged glances and began to laugh.

The guard that had ridiculed you earlier now walked up to you, dipping his head close to your ear. "I can make an exception if you do something for me." His gruff, come-hither voice made your ovaries revolt in disgust.

He crept his fingers along your shoulder, resting them on the thin cotton of your sleeve and slowly pulling it down.

"I would rather mate with a goron." You felt a collection of foamy saliva sit at the base of your throat. With an uncouth gurgle, you spat in the guard's face as a Deku shrub would shoot a nut.

"You little-"

An arm dressed in a gilded gauntlet slithered around the guard's neck, wrapping him in a chokehold. You couldn't see the face of the man who intervened, but you caught glimpses of green fabric behind the guard's body. The color reminiscent of a vast forest and the special boy who hails from its verdant haven.

"What's your ID number?" The voice's curt command wasn't enough to hide its feathery resonance or the way it made your core pool with warmth.

The guard fumbled beneath the unforgiving grasp of his captor, his voice escaping in hoarse spurts. "7..."

"7 what?" The man's muscles swelled as he wrapped his arm around the guard's neck tighter.

"7...5...2...7." Satisfied by this response, you watched as the guard was disregarded and thrown to the ground.

"I'll be sure to speak with the princess in the morning, 7527. It would behoove you to leave the premises at once. Now get out of my sight."

The other guard squealed from behind. "Ach! "It's him! Let's get out of here."

Your eyes slowly wandered to the man before you.

'Him.'

The shadows that hung beneath his eyes were the perfect accessory to the familiar glint of unwelcome responsibility that had remained in his eyes all these years. His lips tugged upward, and an insecure smile seeped cheek to cheek, transforming his aged face into that of the youth you had fallen in love with years ago.

"Hello, Y/N."

You stood there, as if you were staring at Dampe's ghost, which would be a lot more palatable than Link standing before you as a grown man.

A grown man.

You felt your flesh incinerate as you observed the chapped and gargantuan hands beneath the gauntlets. Your eyes stalled on the flashes of muscle that couldn't be hidden beneath his padded gambeson or his tunic.

You could hear a soft chuckle as he realized he had rendered you speechless. He reached upward, pulling off his signature green hat and setting free a wave of long, silky blond tresses. "Have I aged so terribly that you cannot possibly find the words?" For as much as your gaze seemed to procrastinate on certain areas of his body, it was incomparable to the way Link's eyes refused to move away from your own. His Adam's apple bulged, shimmying down his throat as he took a deep breath. "The passage of time is usually cruel, but it relieves me to see how incredibly kind it has been to you."

He took a few steps toward you, desperate for your acknowledgement. After another minute of silence, you reached your hand forward. Link mirrored you, lifting his hand upward in an attempt to gently place his fingertips against your own, as if you were his reflection. The romantic gesture was severed thanks to your hand plunging forth and latching onto one of the shiny gray hoops that swung from his ears.

"Farore! You pierced your ears?"

You could make out a little droplet of sweat trailing down his jaw as he released a nervous laugh. "That's it? It's been seven years, and that's what you noticed about me?"

You folded your arms. " It's not my fault; it's been seven years, Link. Oh, forgive me, do you still go by 'Link?"

He frowned. "You're right, Y/N. You're absolutely right. I cannot say anything that will mend the rift of time between us. But" He got down on his knee and held your hand, your delicate fingers resting in between his firm grasp, weakening your resolve.

"The bridge is closed for the night. Give me just tonight to try. Please."

"Fine." You surrendered. You were going to humor Link. But it was not to appease his own guilt over his absence.

No, it was to prove to yourself that you were over him.

But if you truly were, then why did you need to prove it?

🧚🏾

                                             

Edited: 2/1/24

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 5

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC Smut Warning

SUPPORT YOUR CREATORS. REBLOGGING & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives. 

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: “You couldn’t stop thinking about apologizing or kissing me?"

On Wednesday, I awoke when my alarm went off. Did I sleep through his alarms today? I must have been out of it. I was hot and sweaty. I felt like I had been dreaming but couldn’t recall what it was about. I groggily headed toward the shower. I stood under the hot shower stream longer than I probably should have before I started to wash my hair. I was moving slowly through my entire routine. I felt like I had a mild hangover and was not looking forward to the workday. 

As I was digging through my clothes, I realized all the undergarments that I had left were a little too sexy in nature and not the most comfortable. I silently cursed myself for letting Lauren help me pack, even though me doing it alone most likely would have resulted in a panic attack. I sighed to myself, settling on a lacy white set that was the least offensive, then I got dressed. Today it was black fitted high waisted palazzo pants that zipped up the back, a matching blazer, and light pink sleeveless blouse with a lace trimmed white Cami underneath. I pulled my straightened hair back into my usual low bun. I actually felt cute today. The pants hugged me in all the right places and gave me a little confidence boost that helped improve my mood. I was barely ready on time and had to hurry downstairs to meet Joe. As usual, he met me with coffee and scone in hand. I was thankful for it this morning. 

I was surprised to not find Megan waiting for me when I arrived. I momentarily wondered if I would have any issues entering the building, but once I reached the security checkpoint, they told me to go through without checking my bag or requiring that I go through the metal detector. All I could do was shake my head as I walked toward the elevator. 

When the elevator doors opened to the correct floor, Megan was standing there, looking very impatient. I smiled at her as I exited the elevator and asked if everything was ok. 

“Yes, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you this morning. I was just on my way down. I was having some trouble getting the printer moved to the secondary conference room for you.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I don’t expect you to meet me every morning. I think I can find my way now.” I gave her a reassuring smile, hoping it might help her relax some. 

“So today should be fun. I am going to start running data checks. There is a possibility I may need a second set of eyes or hands.”

“Sounds good. I’m really excited about this part. I am curious to see how all this works. I think it’s fascinating.”

“Well, I think you may be the first to ever say that. Most people want no part of it.” 

Megan led me to the secondary conference room that required ID scan entry. It was a large space that housed an executive style table that took up most of the room, but it was all slightly smaller than the first one we met in. I started getting set up and laid some of my paperwork out across the table. There was a method to my madness that did unfortunately involve killing some trees. I am a very visual person, so a lot of the time it helps me to lay things out instead of switching between multiple windows on a small laptop screen. 

My first step was to start running some of the unaltered data download spreadsheets through a program that compared data from multiple servers and also checked for data irregularities and notable patterns. It could be a slow and tedious process depending on the size of the data load and looking at the past six years’ worth of information was a lot. 

About two and a half hours in, while processing the financial data, something caught my attention. During each payment period, there was always one account outlier in the losses column. The same account never had consecutive losses within that range. I suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline, convinced this could be something. 

I pulled up the profit and loss statement report pdfs that I had reviewed earlier in the week. It hadn’t been completely obvious to me at that point because of the way they were presented. I hit print. Once they were finished printing, I called for Megan to bring some tape and to come assist me. I had her sort them out by year. Then I asked her to hang them on the wall alphabetically by account name then in the order of the month and date. I also had her highlight the outliers on each report. She initially looked at me like I was crazy but didn’t question it. She did as I asked. I alternated between helping her and setting more data to run through my software. By the time we were finished, almost all four walls were completely covered in these reports. I stood back, staring at them. Trying to figure out how to piece it all together. 

I grabbed a pen and started writing large visible numbers on the reports in the order that the outliers occurred. There was one full cycle of the spike in losses for each account. No repeats. I stepped back again, staring at it with a half grin on my face while shaking my head. 

“Megan, would you mind letting Mr. Carrington know that I will not be available for lunch today please. I think I’ve just found something that needs my attention.”    

Megan looked at me, wide-eyed. She nodded before walking out of the room. She returned several minutes later, eager to help. We both went through numbering each cycle for the outliers. It was the same every time. One full cycle through the accounts with no repeats before it started over. However, each cycle had a different order.

I sat down in a rolling chair, turning in circles to look around the room. What now? There had to be more. I leaned my head back as I rubbed my hands down my face, trying to think. Megan excused herself to go grab our lunch delivery. I figured this might be a good time to take a bathroom break. When I rounded the corner walking to the bathroom, I passed Jay Brooks. He gave me a polite hello but didn’t stop to chat. His demeanor seemed off. I had a suspicious feeling about him.

When I got back from the bathroom, Megan had returned with our lunch. As soon as I walked toward her, she leaned into me while looking around slightly paranoid. She started speaking quietly.  

“So, it may be nothing, but when I was coming back, I saw Mr. Brooks attempting to swipe into this room. He never uses this room for anything.”   

“That is interesting indeed. Let’s get back to work.” 

We both ate while we stared at the walls. There was something about the changes in the numbers. 

“I think I have an idea,” I said rather loudly as I dropped my food down on the table, causing Megan to jump. I grabbed my laptop and made a copy of the financial data spreadsheet. I quickly removed all the losses marked as outliers and moved those over to another excel tab. I went through and got the average losses for each year. Then, I went to the other tab and deducted those corresponding year’s average from each of the outliers. What I was left with literally had me bursting out in laughter. 

“What a fucking idiot.”

“What is it?” 

“When I account for the average losses across all accounts for that year and minor fluctuations, then subtract them from these outliers, I get basically the same difference for each account. These first two years, it’s a one-point five percent spike. It went up to two percent for a few years and it’s now holding steady at two-point five percent each time one spikes. It’s statistically impossible for that to be happening naturally for that many accounts.”

I wasn’t sure if Megan followed any of that. It was a lot to process. She just stared at me, wide-eyed before speaking. 

“So, what you're saying is, someone is skimming a specific percentage from one account at a time on a rotation? Which would cause a spike in the losses, right?”

“You got it. He got greedy and started raising that percentage which made it even more obvious this last little bit. I can’t believe the accountant didn’t catch this.”

“I don’t think the accountant checked all the accounts because there are so many. He randomly picked them and asked for that specific data.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Megan gave me a serious look as she shook her head. That would most likely be why it wasn’t caught. 

Now I had proof that malicious activity was happening, I just had to figure out how. I quickly looked back through all the audit trails relating to Mr. Brook’s accounts. There was nothing there. Everything looked legitimate. 

“Can you ask the head of the IT department if he is available to see me, please?”

“Of course,” Megan said as she went to make the call. 

Several minutes later, I knocked on Sam’s door. He called out for me to come in. I inquired about who has access to the mainframe and about security for that room. Sam said there were currently no cameras pointing directly at the entry door to that room, but there were some on adjoining hallways. 

I realized there are also bathrooms on the same hallway as that space, so it would be hard to say definitively that someone was going into the mainframe room based on the camera footage. 

I then had Sam pull up a list of IP addresses that had accessed specific data files on the mainframe, he noted that it was only the mainframe workstation listed to run scheduled automated jobs, most being done late in the evening.  

“Sam, who has access to the mainframe workstation?”

“Technically, all the Senior level staff. Their ID card will get them in the room, and they have the admin credentials.” 

“Seriously? Why?” I didn’t even give him a chance to answer before continuing.

“You know what, never mind. It doesn’t matter at this point. Can you get me room access information for the last six months and the automated job schedules by tomorrow please? 

“Of course, I can. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it for now. Thank you.”

I left Sam’s office and walked back to the secondary conference room. I found Mr. Carrington and Megan there. Mr. Carrington’s face showed confusion as he looked around the room. I started to walk him through today’s discoveries, his confusion turned to aww. He said that he was impressed with my unconventional methods. Laughing as he looked around the room.

“I don’t want to leave this up overnight in case someone gets in here,” he stated. 

“Of course. I had planned to take pictures and shred everything before I leave.”

“I’ll let you get to it then. Megan, please help her dispose of this after she’s done.”

Megan gave a slight nod as I moved to pull out my high-definition professional camera from my bag. I methodically started taking pictures of small sections of the walls. As I would finish with one section, Megan would pull them down and shred them. We finished just as it was time to call it quits for the day. She and I were both feeling worn out as the adrenaline started to wear off, but we were still excited by what we had accomplished. We said our goodbyes, then I headed downstairs to meet Joe. 

It was close to six when Joe pulled up in front of the hotel. I felt giddy from today’s discoveries and anxious to see Dieter. Joe parked the car and opened my door, giving me his usual spiel. I quickly made my way inside and grabbed the back corner booth in the restaurant. I took off my blazer as I sat down because I was feeling hot suddenly. Bartender Tim made his way over and asked what I would be having. I asked for some mozzarella sticks and opted for a fruity mixed drink rather than wine and water. I had a good day, so I was feeling something a little extra. I pulled out my laptop to work on my report and looked through a few more datasets while I waited. 

About forty-five minutes later, Dieter came in through the front entrance. I didn’t even have to see him to know. I could literally feel him. I looked up as he was walking into the restaurant. Our eyes focused on each other. The biggest smile spread across his face as he approached the booth. He was wearing dark colored jeans and a fitted white t-shirt, both of which were hugging him in ways that should be illegal. His hair was messy, hanging down over his forehead and he was wearing the black rimmed glasses. He was also still sporting just a hint of facial hair. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to control myself. The glasses were taking it over the top. He looked like he had had a good day. Hopefully that meant he got the news he had been waiting for. 

He slid into the booth, still smiling with the sweetest look on his face. His energy was infectious. He turned to face me, took a deep breath, and said, “I got the part!”

I did a little clap, and I stomped my feet simultaneously. I was excited for him. I leaned toward him and gave him a side hug and a small rub on his back as I said congratulations. Yeah, I was shamelessly flirting with this guy again. Clearly, I was already feeling the effects from my mixed drink. 

He put in his order with bartender Tim. He too ordered a mixed drink and another round of mozzarella sticks. He asked how my day had gone and I shared the new developments. Excited that I was finally on to something. He was full of questions and wanted to know every little detail as to how I had figured things out. He finished his drink off quickly as he listened.  

“I think you literally just blew my mind. You’re too fucking smart.” he said with a laugh and shook his head in disbelief as he leaned back against the booth. 

“Not really, the computer does most of the work for me. The rest is just recognizing patterns and reasoning.” I said, taking another sip of my drink. 

“However, please feel free to continue to stroke my ego. I won’t argue too much.”

His eyes met mine and he continued to chuckle at my response. There was a look in his eyes that was unreadable. We sat staring at each other for a moment. His eyes briefly dropped down to my mouth as I bit my bottom lip, then down to his drink. He adjusted in his seat. Then, rubbed his left thumb across his bottom lip and down the side of his face before resting it on his right shoulder, giving it a small squeeze as he exhaled. I continued to look at him a moment longer. He looked slightly flushed. The energy between us had shifted. It was electric. At that moment, I knew tonight was going to be interesting and I was one hundred percent on board with it. I basically gave up any sense of control I was holding on to. It was one of my few “fuck it” moments that I was probably going to regret, and again, I didn’t event care.

I interrupted the silence, “We should get a shot to celebrate. We both had success today.” 

He laughed at my enthusiasm and agreed. I slid out of the booth and asked him what he wanted. He opted for a shot of whisky. I walked up to the bar to get Tim’s attention and asked for two shots of whisky. As I waited, I could see Dieter’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He definitely looked me up and down, then quickly looked away. The pants I wore today were a good choice I thought to myself as bartender Tim passed me the shots.  

I sat back down with the drinks; we clinked the glasses together before downing them. We continued chatting for a while about anything and everything. Movies, books, music, all the typical topics. Playfully arguing with each other when we disagreed on something. Both of us sneaking in brief touches here and there. I had shifted to face him in the booth, with my leg bent up on the seat. He kept touching my thigh when he would laugh about something I said. Even giving a gentle squeeze occasionally. It was taking my mind to places it shouldn’t be. I could feel the tension between us building. 

Around ten o’clock, my phone buzzed on the table. It was Lauren. One short message asking how tonight went. I didn’t answer. She was going to be pissed at me. I looked at the time.

“Oh, it's nearly ten o’clock. Geez, that was fast. I guess they’ll be closing soon.”

I sat my phone back on the table. Feeling disappointed. Dieter looked a little disappointed too. 

“Time flies when you're having fun I guess,” he said as he finished off his latest drink. I finished off mine too. We settled our bill, then we both stood, making sure we had all our things. I grabbed a mozzarella stick and stuck it in my mouth as I walked in front of him toward the exit. He started laughing at me and shaking his head. I wasn’t completely drunk, but I still had a good buzz going at this point. Completely at ease and enjoying myself. I hadn’t really been like this in years. It was kind of nice to let loose if I was being honest.

We both got on the elevator. Being in such close quarters had my nerve endings on fire while the smell of his cologne wafted around me. My head felt foggy. It took us a minute to realize that neither of us had hit the number for our floor. We looked at each other and started laughing as he reached over to hit the number 9. He backed into the corner next to me, our arms touching. The elevator jerked as it started its ascent, causing me to stumble on my unsteady feet and fall against him. The length of our bodies touching as he caught me from falling. We both froze momentarily. I looked up at him to give my apologies, but no words left my mouth. My eyes dropped to his lips. He leaned in halfway and stopped with a questioning look on his face. I closed the distance between us and kissed him. I reached up and put my hands on the back of his neck, giving his hair a little tug as we both deepened the kiss. His hands tightened around my waist, pulling me in closer.

We broke apart when the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Staring at each other, wide-eyed. I think we were both in shock over what just happened. I gave him a shy smile and walked past him down the hallway toward my suite. My fingers over my lips the whole way. The heat from his lips, still present. I could feel him following closely behind me. I caught his reflection in the glass of a picture frame at the end of the hall as we approached our suites. He had his hands in his pockets and was watching me with a hint of a smile on his face.    

We reached his door first. I took a deep breath before I turned around to tell him good night. He was looking at me intently. His eyes were unreadable. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something but stopped. He reached up to push a stray piece of hair out of my face that had fallen loose at some point and then smiled. 

“I should be free tomorrow evening if you want to hang out again…I know it’s your last day here, so feel free to tell me no, if you have other plans.”

I smiled, “No, no other plans. I’ll be right here. In the hotel, I mean.”

My eyes shifted down, realizing my brain was failing me as he kept looking at me. All I could think about doing was dragging him into my room. I shook my head to clear it and smiled, telling him good night and that I would see him the following day. Reaching out to squeeze his hand as I said it. Then I turned and walked to my door without looking back. It was a second before I heard his key card in the lock. I caught a glimpse of his back as he entered his suite. 

I walked into my suite, setting my things down on the couch. I stood in place for a minute. Staring at nothing as I tried to process what happened. I decided to get ready for bed and try to decompress. I pulled my blouse and shoes off, then walked into the bathroom and started brushing my teeth. I took my hair down. It fell in soft dark waves around my shoulders. I stared at myself in the mirror, noticing that my pupils were dilated. I laughed at myself. This was absurd. I could not believe how I had acted this evening. It was a sobering moment and I felt like I was past whatever had come over me by that point. I just needed to be away from him to gather my thoughts. 

As I was digging through my suitcase for some pajamas, I heard a light knock on the door. I stood there for a moment, confused. It didn’t sound like it was the main door. Another knock. It was at the door adjoining mine and Dieter’s suites. My stomach did a flip once I realized it. 

I walked into the bedroom and opened my side. Dieter was standing there, with his arm propped on the door frame above his head. He was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt. Skin showing just below the hem of his shirt from where his arm was raised. My eyes lingered there before meeting his. I was certain that he noticed. He took his arm down and rubbed his thumb down the side of his lips as he hesitated to speak, eyeing me. I leaned on the opposite side of the door frame waiting for him to say something. 

“I’m sorry, I-I.. shouldn’t have bothered you. I…just wanted to apologize for earlier. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and…”

“You couldn’t’ stop thinking about apologizing or kissing me?”

He stopped, realizing what he had said. He was trying to read my face, looking for the correct answer. I wasn’t giving him anything to go by. I wanted to know what he was really thinking. 

He hesitated, “I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you. I have been all week.”

He braced for my response. His eyebrows knitted together with a determined, but worried look. His chocolate eyes searched my face. That was all I needed to hear. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him to me. Our lips crashed together. He took a few steps toward me as I put my back flat against the wall. He put his arms around my waist and pulled me up against him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, running a hand through his hair and again tugging it gently. He groaned into my mouth, and I could feel his excitement pressing against me. Any control that I thought I regained over myself was gone. 

I lowered my hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging to pull it off. He stopped kissing me to pull it over his head. My eyes took him in. His torso was toned but not overly muscular. His shoulders were broader than I realized and his arms well defined. He pulled me back to him. His hands were in my hair, then he reached down to pull my Cami off. He briefly stopped, “Is this ok?” he whispered before continuing. I let out a breathy yes, reminding myself to thank Lauren later for throwing in the sexy bra and panty sets even though I cursed her for it earlier in the day. He wrapped his arms around my waist as he kissed down my neck, lifting me off the floor slightly to walk toward the bed. After he placed me back on the ground, I reached down to palm him through his shorts, and he groaned into my mouth again. He reached for the front of my pants, not finding what he was looking for. He pulled away for a minute, looking down. 

“How the hell do you get these things off?”

I started laughing as I turned around tugging at the zipper. He grabbed my hips, clearly admiring the view for a moment before trying to help me undo the zipper. In my haste to pull it down, I got it caught on the fabric. We both started laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“Fuck it. Rip them.” I said through my exasperated laughs.

“This might as well be a damn chastity belt,” he said through his laughter as he gave a good tug, pulling me backward slightly. 

The zipper finally popped loose. He sighed in relief as he pulled my back against his chest. Pulling my hair out of the way to kiss down my neck. I grinded my backside into him as he went to stick his hand down the front of my pants. Again, he paused asking if it was ok before continuing. I managed to squeak out another yes. He continued, rubbing my sensitive area, and feeling the wetness that was forming. My entire body was electrified. Honestly, I hadn’t felt this aroused or alive in years. Clearly, I had been missing out. 

He pulled his hand out and slid my pants and panties down my legs. Then he moved to undo my bra, sliding it down my arms slowly. I turned around and reached for his shorts, but hesitated. I felt like I was in foreign territory. I hadn’t been with anyone but my ex-husband in so long. I started to doubt myself and I was unsure of how to do this. Damn my intrusive thoughts. 

He caught my eyes with his, sensing my hesitation. 

“We can stop if…”

“No, I just haven’t done this in a while. I feel a little out of practice.” I gave a half smile and a one shoulder shrug.  

He reached for my face, kissing me gently.

“I think you are doing perfectly fine. Just don’t think about that.”

As his chocolate brown eyes stared into mine, I felt my confidence return and pulled his shorts down. He didn’t have anything underneath. I glanced down. He was definitely excited and above average in size, I assumed anyway. I didn’t have a lot to compare to. He pulled me back to him and started kissing me again. Geez, he was such a good kisser. I was never one for making out in the past, but the way his tongue moved with mine was igniting a blaze in me. I couldn’t get enough of him. I reached down and started stroking him. He sucked in air through his teeth, leaning his head back at the feeling.

I paused and his eyes snapped to mine. Concern etched his face. 

“Do you have a condom? I’m… I’m not on anything…”

He paused before answering me, like he was trying to decide how to answer. 

“I-I had a vasectomy…but I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time.” 

He looked apprehensive while he waited for my response. Honestly, I was a little shocked. It wasn’t the response I was expecting. I would have to pack that away to process later. 

“Oh...ok then. Me too. I mean, I haven’t been with anyone in a long time either.” I said, shaking my head up and down. 

I could see the relief on his face. We gave each other awkward smiles and I started kissing him again. I was determined to be in the moment and not in my head worrying about every little detail. 

Dieter backed me up to the bed. When it hit the back of my legs, I sat down and started to crawl backwards. He followed, hovering over me and kissing as we went. Once I settled, he was everywhere. Kissing, sucking, and touching every inch of me. He started working his way down and paused as he felt me tense. 

“You don’t have to do that,” I said as I grasped onto his hand. He looked at me with questioning eyes. 

“It’s just…that’s never really done anything for me.” 

“Then clearly someone didn’t know what they were doing. Relax and let me have a go at it.”

He gave me a mischievous grin and started sucking on the inside of my thigh. I gave him a small smile and nodded for him to continue. 

As soon as he put his mouth on me, a loud moan escaped my lips. Maybe he was right. It didn’t take long for me to reach my peak. It was easily the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. A high that I had never reached.

Dieter crawled back up to hover over me, looking pleased with himself. 

“Ok, you were right. Someone didn’t know what they were doing.”

He laughed at my declaration as I started to kiss him again. I could taste myself on him. We grinded against each other. After a moment, he reached down to line himself up at my entrance. He paused looking at me for permission. I resumed kissing him and bucked my hips up for him to continue. He went slow at first, giving me the chance to adjust to his size. 

Once we got into a rhythm, we were fueled by pure need. Our bodies saying what our words failed to. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Our hands and lips were everywhere, sucking and caressing. My entire body felt like it was burning with want. It had never been like this for me before. I gave myself over completely. I could feel that familiar burn building again as I climaxed for a second time that evening. Dieter nipped my jawline and kissed down my neck as I arched my back through it. Once I started to come down, he grabbed my leg, just behind my knee and raised it to change the angle. I could feel the burn building again as my muscles started to contract around him for the third time. 

“I’m about to…” he trailed off through his heavy breathing. He placed his forehead against mine and I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist while we both tensed from our releases. 

He sat there unmoving for several minutes. We both attempted to get our breathing under control in between the deep sensual kisses we shared. We were both covered in sweat and trembling from the exertion. He rubbed his nose against mine and gave me one last peck on the lips before he rolled off to lay beside me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest. 

“That was…unexpected,” he said once his breathing had calmed down. 

“It was. I’m not complaining.” 

Dieter laughed while he twirled my hair in his fingers. 

“I think I need something to drink,” I said as I laid there, unmoving. He moved to get up, agreeing that he did too. I told him I had water in the fridge. I shamelessly admired his backside as he walked out of the room. 

He came back quickly, turning all the lights off as he went. He handed me a bottle of water then pulled the blanket back and climbed in covering us both up. We both downed a significant amount of water before setting the bottles on the nightstands. He scooted down in the bed onto his left side and pulled me over to him. My back to his chest. He wrapped his right arm around me with his left bent back under his head and nuzzled his face into my hair. I laced my fingers into his right hand, pulling his arm tighter around me while our legs tangled together. 

For the first time in a long time, I felt content. I felt safe and unjudged. I decided I would let myself enjoy the moment and worry about consequences later. I just wanted to be happy and without worry for once. Even if it was only for one night. 

I noticed his breathing shifted to slow, steady breaths. He had fallen asleep. I further relaxed into the warmth of his embrace, letting sleep take me too. 

At some point in the middle of the night, I felt his foot slide down my leg, then he hugged me a little tighter. I wasn’t sure if he was awake or not. He didn’t seem to be. At least not all of him. I stretched my stiff muscles, pushing my backside into him as I did so, feeling the hardness press into me. I did a little wiggle and he groaned into my ear, burying his head into the crook of my neck. His fingers tightened in mine. He was definitely awake now. 

I turned my head toward him, our lips meeting. It was slow and sensual. His hand made its way down to my core where he started working his magic with his fingers. I was panting and reached my peak quickly. He slid his hand down to my thigh, repositioning my leg. Then he propped himself up on his left arm to position himself and enter me from behind. He laid back down, wrapping both arms around me, then began moving, very slowly. We both groaned at the feeling. This position was a new experience for me. The angle hitting pleasure spots I didn’t know existed. 

His right hand alternated between roaming my body and grasping my hip to pull me back to him.  My head was laying in the crook of his left arm, his left hand bent up, tangling in my hair while I turned to kiss him. I threaded my right hand through his hair, grasping it tightly causing a deep groan from him. He would switch between fast and slow thrust to prolong the experience. When he felt my body begin to tense, he picked up the pace and we both reached our high together, letting out pants and moans as we rode it out. 

We melted into each other as our breathing slowed. He continued to place random kisses down my neck and nuzzled back into my hair. 

“Why are you so fucking amazing.” 

It was a statement. Not a question. I laughed at him. 

“Can we just stay here, like this, and forget the rest of the world exists?” He said with his face buried in my neck. I chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” 

I started lightly rubbing his right arm, which was still wrapped around me. Within minutes he was asleep again. For a minute, I dared to wonder what it would be like to wake up with him every morning. To be in a relationship with him. He was so attentive and caring. The opposite of what I had before. Is that something I was even capable of right now? Emotionally I was kind of a mess. Not to mention the psychological effects of what I had been through. I quickly dismissed that train of thought. I was getting ahead of myself. As far as I was concerned, this was just a fling. I’d most likely never see him again after this week anyway. I eventually dozed off into a deep sleep. 

A/N: More spice coming in the next chapter. 😉

Next Chapter

[socialistexan]

I'm so fucking frustrated trying to find resources for myself online. Like I have been diagnosed with ADHD and while I haven't been formally diagnosed* with autism the traits are there and my therapist has agreed I probably am.

But the thing about that those disorders, is that our society most commonly associates them with children and really only children. It's slightly more common now to hear about adult ADHD now thanks to platforms like tiktok (and we could really get into the detriments that come with that some other time), but adult autism still feels rarely talked about outside very insular spaces, especially adult diagnosised ASD.

So like, I've found that my mental well-being has been significantly improved if I take 15-30 minutes out of my workday (I call them my Touch Grass Brakes) and just sit outside with my dog in the sun or rain if it's raining.

So I got curious to see if maybe this was related to autism, because I'm finding out that hey! a lot, but definitely not all, of things I do that I couldn't explain before turn out to be commonly associated autistic traits. I like knowing these things about myself, it gives me clarity.

But when I try to look "hey is needing to be outside for a bit every day an autism thing or a people thing that everyone should do?" all I get is results for children with Autism, or rather resources for parents of autistic children:

Same thing happens with ADHD, like it sometimes takes pages of search results until you find something that isn't necessarily even for adults but just not solely and exclusively about children.

I'm not a fucking child! I need support too! Autistic and ADHD children eventually (at least *should*) grow up into autistic and ADHD adults! Do we just stop needing support after a certain number of spins around the sun?

And like, I'm very low needs. I'd probably be classified as "level 1," but low needs still means I have *some* needs. Idk, it's just frustrating.

*There's a variety of reasons I will not seek a formal diagnosis at least in the near-mid future, including needing access to gender affirming care which can be stripped if you are diagnosed with autism, and it would pad the stats that are twisted by transphobes who try to claim trans people are all poor tricked autistics who need saving.

[willowsnook]

I think I'm not sorry for another Bucky one hehe ☺️ Maybe, where you’re kinda their technician and support the Avengers out of the IT section of the compound when they are on the field. But Bucky also thinks you should learn how to self-defense yourself just in case, but you always refuse. One time you finally give in and he starts training private with you, which one time leads you falling and landing on top of him. instead of getting up, he pulls you closer and kisses you and even carries you to his room to make sweet love. Afterwards he’s a huge cuddler and you both confess your feelings ? I LOVE YOU 😊

Bucky x reader (Self-defense)

When you graduated with a degree in computer science five years ago, you never thought you'd end up in a job working with the Avengers. You led the IT Support team on the compound and spent most of your time managing your team and stepping in to troubleshoot when they couldn't figure something out. That's how you ended up getting to know Sergeant James Barnes pretty well. Due to his new arm from Wakanda, most of your techs hadn't worked with that kind of technology before so you were always called in. That's where you found yourself today.

"Keep it still," you reminded Bucky for the millionth time as your brows furrowed. He rolled his eyes.

"I am," he snapped. You looked up at him with a glare.

"Watch your attitude or you can deal with this yourself," you replied and he gave you his best puppy dog eyes that you wish didn't work. You sighed before adjusting one last thing.

"Okay, I think it should be good now." He flexed his arm and moved it in a large circle.

"Perfect," he said giving you a smile before ruffling your hair. "You always know how to fix me up doll." You swiped at his hand in your hair.

"Yeah yeah," you muttered. The two of you walked out of the room and down the hall back towards your office.

"You know they are hosting a self defense class tonight for free here," Bucky said giving you a sideways look.

"That's cool, are you going?" You asked causing him to roll his eyes. He stopped walking and grabbed your arm causing you to stop and look at him.

"I think you should go," he went on. Bucky had been trying to get you to take a self defense class for what felt like ages but you weren't interested.

"I think I'm good," you said and he huffed.

"What if you get attacked? Who will fix my arm then?" He questioned.

"I think you'll be just fine," you replied, beginning to walk again. "Now if you'll excuse me I have real work to do." You walked in your office closing the door behind you.

As the day dragged on you kept thinking about the self-defense class. You hadn't told anyone, but there had been this guy harassing you outside your apartment building every time you got home. He hadn't done anything physical but what if it escalated? You decided that maybe you would give this one class a try. When the workday ended you changed into a black sports bra with matching black high-rise leggings. You ran into Bucky on the way to the auditorium and his eyes raked up and down your body.

"What are you up to?" He asked, a little rasp in his voice as he forced his eyes to meet yours.

"I figured I'd take your advice on the self-defense class," you said and he brightened.

"Finally, I'll go with you," he said. The two of you took seats in the back row of the auditorium and Bucky looked around with a scowl on his face.

"What?" You asked.

"I just don't understand how they are going to have room to lead the class in here," he said and you shrugged. A couple of minutes later a large man took the stage to introduce himself.

"Today we aren't going to be doing any hand to hand self defense training," he said. "We'll watch a short video and talk through de-escalating situations so it doesn't get physical."

You nodded along but felt Bucky stand up. You looked at him questioningly but he pulled you up with him and led you out.

"You wanted me to go," you complained. "Where are we going?"

"To the gym, consider this a new one-on-one training session," he said.

For an hour Bucky led you through different forms of attacks and defenses. By the end you felt like you were sweating buckets.

"Are we done yet?" You whined, fanning yourself.

"Let's just do one last mock attack," he said. He looked like he was barely elevating his heart rate which made you annoyed.

You got in your position and waited for him to attack. He came at you quick but you sidestepped and tried to elbow his back which he blocked. You went back and forth like this for a while before you swung out your leg surprising him. He tried to step back but lost his balance, grabbing you on the way down. You blushed as you felt his hands on your waist while you were laying on top of him. He looked up at you with a weird look and you were confused.

"I think you can let me up now Buck," you said trying to move but all you did was shift your hips causing him to tighten his grip and let out a sharp breath. Your face was burning as you could feel him harden underneath you. One of his hands came up to the side of your face stroking your cheek.

"Bucky..." you said whisperingly. His eyes moved down to your lips and he leaned up meeting you. His lips were soft and you moved your hand to grasp his hair pulling his face into you. As he deepened the kiss you could feel heat start to pool between your legs and shifted on him again causing him to groan into your mouth. He pulled away and you caught your breath.

"I want you to come upstairs with me," he said. "But if you don't want to it's okay."

"I want to," you said softly and he gave you a soft smile. You climbed off of him and he got to his feet before dragging you out of the gym. A short walk later you made it to the residential area of the Compound and he was opening the door to his room. It was a palette of gray and impressively tidy. You sat on his king-sized bed while he locked the door and turned to you.

"I've thought about fucking you for a very long time but I'm not going to do that," he said and you felt a wave of disappointment crash over you. "No, our first time is going to be slow and sweet." He put his hands under your arms and pulled you up to where your head was now resting on one of his pillows. He grabbed the bottom of your bra and pulled it over your head before licking a stripe up between your breasts. Your breath hitched and he brought his lips up to yours. As he assaulted your mouth you felt his hand travel to the seam of your pants and then under them. You gasped when you felt his finger touch your clit over your panties and he used that moment to drive his tongue further in your mouth. Eventually, his fingers made it to your bare skin and he started pumping in and out making you press up against him. He held his thumb over your clit as his middle finger kept going and you felt yourself get close to coming undone.

"Bucky, I'm going to cum.." you moaned out against his lips and he brought his lips to your neck nipping at you. That sent you over the edge and your body tensed up before shuddering. He pushed off of you and pulled his shirt over his head. You admired his very nice body as he pulled down his shorts. His cock flipped up, hitting his stomach and your eyes widened. He saw your panic and smirked.

"I'll go slow, I promise," he said and you nodded. After your pants were off, he bent your legs so they were pushed on both sides of your chest. He teased your entrance with the head of his cock and you whimpered. As he pushed in you felt a fiery pain that made you gasp.

"It's okay doll," he groaned out as he pushed further in. The pain turned into something else and you found yourself moaning out. Bucky brought his hands on either side of you and his head was a couple of inches away from yours. He slowly started thrusting in and out and you could tell he was trying to hold back.

"Faster Bucky please," you whined and he brought his mouth to your neck, sucking on the skin before he started to slam into you. You cried out as he relentlessly pounded you into the bed and dug your nails into his arm. He pulled his body up and had your legs on top of your shoulders. This new position caused him to go deeper and get closer to hitting your cervix causing you to whimper.

"I'm close doll, just a little longer," he panted out and brought his thumb down to circle your clit. This made it feel more manageable and you felt your own orgasm building. As you were both about to cum he turned into an animal on you and you felt yourself black out as your orgasm crashed over you. You opened your eyes back up to see him pull out before collapsing next to you. After a couple of minutes, he pulled you up towards the bathroom and you both cleaned up a little. Bucky noticed you holding your arms and shivering and pulled out a long-sleeved shirt from one of his drawers. You slipped it over your head before climbing back in his bead. You felt the bed dip as he joined you, wrapping his arms around you to where your back was against your chest.

"Did that live up to your fantasies,?" you asked teasingly and he buried his head into your long hair.

"It was everything I dreamed of," he replied and your heart swelled. "Next time will be even better."

"Next time? What makes you think there's a next time?" You asked turning around to look at him and he smirked.

"Oh there definitely will be," he said pulling you in for a kiss. "I like you. a lot y/n. I have for a while." You sighed dramatically.

"I knew you were faking some of your tech issues with your arm," you said and he laughed. "I like you too Bucky."

You snuggled up into him before falling fast asleep.

[son-neko-art]

Supercorp doesn’t yet exist in the Harley Quinn universe, that I am aware of, so I’m making it exist. What do you think of the character design? Aged them to about to graduate/ graduate college intern age.

I picture in this world, Kara was raised someplace that was more conservative so she’s very nervous and closeted about her relationship.  Not just because of internalized homophobia, but also because, ‘Ahhh, A Super dating a Luthor!’ That probably freaks her out more. It’s Romeo and Juliet vibes. She’s still a goody two shoes, but not as bad at puns as her cousin. She spends a lot of time with Krypto and Streaky the Super Cat due to anxiety. She also is afraid of accidently hurting people with her powers.  She interns at the Daily Planet and is repeatably accidentally breaking things.  Kara still eats a surprisingly large amount for her size. And she’s a ridiculously thoughtful person...maybe a little bit of a people pleaser.

Haven’t thought out Lena’s personality completely just yet.  But I have a few ideas. I think Lena would be protective and supportive of Kara but a little annoyed about all the secretiveness.  Since she’s not actively trying to be evil... but nepotism and talent lands her a job interning for the Legion of Doom since her brother runs it. A paid internship is a paid internship. I also picture her being ridiculously useful in trying to infiltrate the legion of Doom anywhere in the world because she’s a Luthor, who’s gonna question her?

Also, Lena would be at this point like disturbingly desensitized to anything messed up that her and supers/ Harley and crew would see in one of these LOD facilities. She’s followed Lex around her whole life, she’s seen some stuff. Like Lena has probably accidently walk in on the tail end of Lex torturing someone near the end of the workday and then they’d go out for tacos afterwards. But then she goes away to college, realizes how messed up her brother is, start trying to do good in the world with her skills/ money, and starts dating a super. So, Lex would probably blame colleges for pushing their liberal agendas on their students for her wanting to be a decent human being.

And I mean it, Lena would be so desensitized to violence that it would be scary, like Clayface and King Shark would pale at her throwaway lines like, 

“This is just a Tuesday at my brother’s lab as a kid. Wednesday’s at Lex’s lab was also Ice Cream Sundae Day...”  She’d have a lot to unlearn.

[thenightlymirror]

When I was coming home from my first Trauma Survivors Support Group meeting, this was Leap Day, actually, I parked at the post office as usual and got out of my car only to be immediately greeted by a scruffy little dog. The dog waited for me to get out of the car and pet it. Her owner just stood there with the leash and waited too.

I asked the little dog, “Are you my CIA handler? Is this the drop spot?” Then she got the zoomies.

I have met this same little dog on two more occasions. Her name is Mia. The owner will tell me the dogs name, and listen to me banter with the dog back and forth, but never introduces herself.

Today, I got off late and saw Mia and her owner sitting on the corner bench. Winnetka is a place for dog walkers and New Trier students and quarter-zip fleeces and Tesla ports. It’s like a sitcom village. So people sit on benches. I walked up and asked Mia how her workday went.

“I’m looking for someone to inherit my dog,” the woman said.

“Mia can live on my little couch, and help me decorate my apartment,” I said. I’m a more than a little top heavy. If you’ve ever seen me, you know I’m basically built like a bowling ball on chop sticks. So petting a little dog for a long time is a funny posture to be in for a man my size, especially on the street.

“I’m a memorialist at a cemetery. I design headstones for families. Mostly I just push around paper.” I spoke about my job and the surprising stress for what you would assume was a quiet place, as an outsider.

Now you have to wonder, has she really been walking around the block every day, looking for someone to inherit her dog, and where am I in the running? #1? #5?

I accidentally gave a pretty good interview to be the new owner of a scruffy little dog. I would love that little dog so much. I’m a little scared, because if she dies, will it be by her own hand? And how will she bequeath to me this dog? Hand it off with a brief goodbye? Or post it up by her leash on the corner where it will just wait all day until I get off work and notice it there?

My Occam’s Razor guess is that she has some terminal illness. Patrick asked me if this was maybe a cry for help, and of course it was at least a little cry for help. And I just gave her a warm gloss.

“I don’t know how to respond well to cries for help. And I don’t know how to very well cry for help, I guess.”

(This is what Patrick wrote.)

I don’t either. I tend to let cries for help slide. Isn’t that what an angel would do? You do not disturb the dreamer. You keep things on an even keel. No one has to be embarrassed. No one has to regret making a short, stabbing remark. Agony is like the weather. It’s all weather.

Well. Borges’ Law. Nothing will happen now.

For the best.