#liv is a procrastinator

[ink-livi]

Research my beloved and beloathed

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | next part

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

Note: Wrote a quick one, I don't usually write about real people so (this is all fiction, don't take it seriously) Can you tell I'm procrastinating on my other WIPs.

Word Count: 2.1k+

“Blacking out at a strip club in Vegas, are you fucking serious?”

Jake, your manager’s voice thunders around the office. 

You sink lower into the armchair, casting your eyes down – ashamed. From your peripheral, you can see Jake pacing up and down behind his desk and yanking at his tie; roughing up his usually neat-suited appearance. 

“Is it bad?” You gather the courage to ask.

There was a lot of shit that Jake lets you get away with. He’s known since you were a young teen with starry-eyed dreams. Except, your dreams did come true. You were living it, working with respected directors and actors on prestigious sets and projects; it was a shot in the dark that you would ever become a working actor much less a critically-acclaimed one but Jake took a chance on you.

But no one had warned you just how much you had to give up in order to keep succeeding at your dream. Work breeds more work, is that what they say?

Well if that’s the case, it certainly felt like it. Since your first big break, you haven’t stopped working. Seemingly flying to every crevice of the Earth to show face at yet another event they had scheduled on your calendar. 

You could barely name the day of the week.

Being in your teens in the public eye was not easy and it hasn’t gotten any easier as you entered your 20s. So they can sue you for trying to have some fun for once in your life. Granted, you may have gone overboard with it… that much you can own up to.

“Is it bad?” He scoffs, reiterating your question in a mocking tone and if it were anyone else you wouldn’t have been able to stave off your annoyance. “Try the end of times… you got locked up in jail. For possession of coke. You can imagine the headlines.”

You wince, clamping your eyes shut. Yeah, that is bad. “It wasn’t mine! It was–”

“Oh, I know whose it was!” Abruptly stopping, he swipes a finger in your direction shutting you up. “You and your little boy-toy can say goodbye to each other ‘til Liv and I fix this goddamn mess.”

“I didn’t know he had it on him, Jake. And he’s not my boy toy.” Your nose screws up in disgust. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. The media caught wind of your weekend away in Vegas with that singer. Did you really think no one would recognize you with a famous musician in a strip club? They have pictures of you in cuffs, Y/N – you’re lucky you didn’t get pressed with charges for drug possession.” 

You hear the tired disappointment in Jake’s voice and feel guilt crawl around in your chest. No words seem to be good enough to fix the mess you created so you stay silent. You can add this to the list of headlines he has had to clean up recently. You keep your head down, like a petulant child called into the principal’s office – which in this situation, was an accurate comparison.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me, Y/N.” A higher-pitched voice echoes behind you and theoretically, if it were physically possible to pass through atoms, you’d be 6-feet under the Earth’s crust.

Far, far away from Liv.

“I already gave her the talk, Liv. We haven’t got the time. What’s the plan to fix this?” Jake crosses his arms, one elbow propped to hold his heavy head up. The bags under his eyes were a clear indication that like you, he also hasn’t slept since he bailed you out of Clark County Jail – a mere 10 hours ago.

All you knew is that you were waking up in a cold, dingy cell with a nasty hangover and an officer shouting from behind steel bars that someone had posted bail for you. Next thing you knew, you were being escorted out the side entrance of the building and into a blacked-out Escalade then driven to a private tarmac where a jet was waiting to take you back to Los Angeles.

Liv is also someone you accredit your success to. Jake and Liv are partners and often represent clients together. You liked to call them each other’s work husband/wife. Liv is a tough lady, only in her early 30s and already one of the most sought-after PR agents in Hollywood; has a boss-ass bitch attitude and a resting bitch face to match. Where Jake often played the good cop with you, Liv was guaranteed to be the complete opposite. 

Liv rounds the desk, standing beside Jake. She was dressed in business casual clothes but her hair wasn’t done like it usually was – a sign she had rushed over here upon your arrival. Staring you down with a menacing glare before rolling her eyes. “You’re not gonna like it, but I don’t care because we’re way past doing things your way.”

You sit up, a little scared. Liv is not one to mess around with. If she says it’s something you won’t like, you might as well go dig up your own grave. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have an idea as to how to get some heat off your shoulders. Just until the press can find something else to fuss over.” She waves with a hand, furiously typing on her phone.

You and Jake shared a look, waiting for her to continue. 

“Well, are you going to tell us or not?” Jake huffs, throwing his hands in the air. Was he the only one in this damn room that felt like the sky was falling?

A knock interrupts before Liv can respond. “Hold that thought… Come in!” She holds a finger up, shoving her phone in her back pocket. 

You turn around, curiosity getting the better of you. Only, it was Jake’s assistant popping her head in. “Sorry for interrupting, sir. I know you said not to disturb you unless it was urgent.”

Jake runs a tired hand on his face. “Just get to the point, Em.” He says, not unkindly.

“Miss Olivia’s guests are here for the meeting. I was wondering if I can let them in?” The young assistant says timidly. Anyone can feel the thick tension in the room. No doubt she also saw the headlines plastered all over the internet of your face. There was an urgency in her mannerism that told you she wanted out of this conversation as soon as possible.

“Yes, let them in! Don’t make them wait.” She waves frantically. The door closes, leaving the three of you alone for a moment.

“Liv, what is this?” Jake asks before you can.

“Y/N, control your anger and be kind to our guests. This is for you, remember that.” She plasters a large smile with her last words as the door opens; multiple voices can be heard behind you. What the hell does that mean?

“Miss Ortega, great to officially meet you and Sarah, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.” Your head snaps to the side as Liv steps out from behind the desk to greet the people behind you.

The sight has you struck dumb. Why is Wednesday Addams in your manager’s office?

Granted, you know who she is. Who doesn’t? You can barely drive down any highway in L.A. without seeing her face plastered on some sort of billboard or building. But why is she here, in this office?

“Y/N I’d like you to meet Miss Ortega…” You were still rooted in your chair, just staring at them like an idiot. An uptick of a brow is raised as Jenna watches you remain unmoving. 

“Get up.” Jake kicks the back of your chair as he rounds the desk to greet Jenna and her manager, gritting under his breath. You spring up at the thud, rubbing your back in annoyance. 

“Nice to meet you, Miss Ortega.” You extend your hand when she finishes greeting Jake. 

She stood a good few inches under you, dressed casually in loose pants and a hoodie. She had a pair of sunglasses pushing her hair back, which was tied in a messy low bun; headphones around her neck.

You two have never crossed paths in all your years in Tinseltown – which was surprising considering you two are around the same age. There might have been an event or two that you had attended at the same time but you have never had the chance for a formal introduction. It wasn't difficult to see why the whole world was buzzing about Jenna Ortega.

“Just Jenna is fine.” She slides her hand in yours, sending a small, shy smile. The sparks you feel when your palms connect has you flinching almost imperceptibly. You see Jenna’s eyes snapping toward your connected hands telling you she may have felt it too. But before you can think too hard on it, you’re pulling away from her grasp. 

“Let’s all sit down, so we can tell you why you’re both here.”

Jenna takes the armchair to your left, and you fight to keep your sight straight ahead. “There’s no easy way to break the news. But here’s the CliffsNotes version. Over 24 hours ago, Y/N was arrested in Vegas. The press is having a field day, they already have the paps planted outside her house and every location she frequents. Our solution… a PR relationship, just until all of this has died down.”

You stare deadpan at Liv. Out of all the years, you have known her, this has to be the most balls-to-the-wall, bonkers shit she’s ever said to you. 

“What?” A sweet voice piques beside you, voicing out the shock you weren’t able to verbalize.

“A fake relationship, sweetie.” Her manager, Sarah says in a much sweeter tone than Liv could ever muster.

You can see her shake her head from your side eye. “We agreed to no PR stunts like this, Sarah.”

“I know, Jen. But with the recent controversy online… we just think this may be a good look. Liv called me last night and we came up with this plan and thought it couldn’t hurt with both of your situations.” At least her manager sounded apologetic. 

Jenna scoffs, feeling irritated and ambushed. “No offence, but I can handle a few nobodies online. And my situation is nowhere near as bad as hers. If anything how would pairing me up with someone who does drugs be good for my image.”

Your head snaps to her, nearly growling, “Watch it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She bites back, turning to glare at you. “Is it not the truth?”

“No.”

“We got a drug user and a liar, great.” She mutters under her breath.

“Okay stop! You two don’t have a choice,” Sarah speaks up, sending Jenna a look you didn’t care enough to decipher. 

“Get someone else,” You say to Liv, ignoring everyone else around you. “Literally anyone else, please.” 

Jenna puffs out an incredulous scoff. “Screw you, dude.”

“Screw you too!”

“Jenna!” “Y/N!” The adults of the room shout over one another, chastising you both.

“That’s enough!” Jake shouts, getting you to break your intense glaring at the other actress. Jake’s tone slightly scared you, he was never one to raise his voice. And you knew you were balancing on some very thin and fragile ice with him at the moment. 

“This is the plan and that’s final! Jenna, everyone sees you as America’s sweetheart after the success of Wednesday. As much as it sucks, everyone is watching your next move, personally and professionally. And Y/N, you’ve been in the press for literally all the wrong things this year, and yet, the public can’t get enough of you. It’s good publicity on both sides… So you two will learn to get along – for the sake of both of your careers.” He says with a tone that leaned on threatening and you didn’t have the balls the challenge him on that. 

You had worked too hard for the life you have today just for it to be thrown away by a careless mistake. So if you had to buckle down and act in love with one of the most annoying people you had ever met, in world-record time, then so be it.

“How long…” You mumble, dropping your head in defeat.

“Three months at most. Less the quicker people forget about your night at the county jail.” Liv answers.

“Fine…” You conceded.

A few seconds of silence ring out before she answers, “Fine…”

●●●

Jake and Liv @ Reader:

I swear there's a SpongeBob meme for everything.

:)

[sitp-recs]

hello loveliest liv :) it's almost semester break for me which means a lot of time for reading drarry! (...as if i haven't been procrastinating all term reading drarry anyway... but shhhh)

so i am coming to you, my most trusted drarry reccer, cup in hand, begging for some lovely, long, plotty recs, pretty please? i'd take anything you have to offer (except for horror-themes they make me queasy ups)

sending love x

Hello my darling! Ahh how nice, you deserve a lovely and chill break full of Drarry treats! I can’t wait to leave on vacation in early August myself 🙏🏼 I did two lists with long, plotty recs (here and here) but it was a while back so I thought I’d add some more. I haven’t read much this year tbh, but really enjoyed these long-ish fics. Happy readings!

your braids like a pattern by @hoko-onchi-writes (E, 31k)

Harry soldiers on with the get-to-know you activity, noting each counsellor's interests and repeating their names. Harry’s eyes land on Malfoy. He’s the last counsellor in the circle. One blond eyebrow is arched, his smirky mouth turned up at the corners. That can’t be good.

À Bon Chat by @oknowkiss (E, 35k)

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief.

Truth to Materials by @toomuchplor, lately (E, 54k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback (E, 94k)

winter, 2002: Draco Malfoy is absolutely fine, thank you very much. summer, 2008: Harry Potter is, er- well, not good exactly, but definitely better. Yeah. Better than before. A love story told in two somewhat unreliable parts, over six years. Featuring secret shagging, to friends, to the 'how is it fair for someone to say your name like that' sort of friends, to, finally, someone you could call a home.

Never Mind the Bollocks by @the-sinking-ship (E, 118k)

If someone told Harry six months ago that by autumn he would be single, living on whisky and toast, and dancing the night away with Draco Malfoy, he would have told them to get their head checked. And yet, here he was.

Beholden by @faith2wood (E, 123k)

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

[randombush3]

Completely and Totally Unattached

florence pugh x footballer!reader

part two to Good In Bed

summary: everything stays completely and totally unattached. why wouldn’t it?

words: 3470

warnings: there’s a sex scene, and maybe cocaine i can’t remember (what a concerning thing to say btw)

notes: THIS IS A TRILOGY. i thought about making this one way longer, but i’ve decided to split this part into two. don’t even ask about the game timeline because i don’t want to talk about it.

Everything is perfect for a while.

You smile when you see her and she starts to invite you over hours before any sex really happens; you wake her up in the morning with a coffee and a goodbye kiss and a face that makes her question the feelings that aren’t in the arrangement.

One evening, you find an invitation to a Tiffany event sitting menacingly on her coffee table. She eyes it with caution once you inquire, and declares she hates events and won’t be going. “I hate going alone,” she mumbles in stark contrast to the confidence of her previous announcement, “and Livvy is in Oxford that weekend.”

You wait for her to ask you instead but she doesn’t. Not then, anyway.

It’s a feeble, meek, pathetic text, but you see it before she can press delete.

FP: Could you come with me?

You scramble to unlock your phone, making the sleeping Katie leaning on your shoulder whine. To keep the air of secrecy alive, you cast a glance around the others on the bus. No one else knows you’re fucking Florence Pugh.

You: Yeah, of course

Florence gets herself together when you reply, and calls you. You’ve started to associate the number with more than sex, but it’s okay. It’s a friendship.

“Thank you so much,” she begins, voice uncharacteristically tender. “You don’t happen to know your measurements? Suit or dress?”

“Suit,” you answer easily. She is quick to imagine what that would look like. Though a bit outdated, you have a set of measurements typed hastily in your notes app. “I’ll text them to you.”

Then, the day of the event comes and you spend the night attracting the gaze of everyone in the room, and having them wonder when Florence Pugh decided to make friends with professional athletes. You beam at her the whole evening, and she fights her blush when Barratt West brings up the new designs for engagement rings.

“We’re just friends,” you tell him casually, as if the statement won’t pierce through her eardrums. She’s not sure why it bothers her so much.

And then it’s almost like an epiphany.

Florence Pugh loves the footballer she sometimes wakes up beside.

Almost an epiphany, because these feelings haven’t suddenly pounced on her. She’s just decided to acknowledge them.

She figures that all three rules are broken: Livvy had known the minute her best friend was checking her phone a little too often; you stay over; she loves you.

Nothing feels different. Even if she worries she’s been utterly exposed every time your bodies touch, you treat her exactly the same as you did the night before she came upon this realisation. She supposes that means you don’t feel the same way. She knows she shouldn’t carry this on.

She tells herself she should terminate the arrangement for another two days as a form of self-sabotaging procrastination, but Thursday night’s musings turn into drinks with Livvy on Friday.

“How’s Y/n?” her best friend asks her, prying because it’s fun.

“I don’t know.” You’re in Brighton for an away game and it’s taking up the whole weekend. It’s an abnormally long weekend, Florence tells herself. Time is going slowly for everybody. “I think I’m going to break it off.”

“What?”

“My unattached sex with Y/n is no longer that,” states Florence plainly. She hides the grimace that comes with saying it out loud, and swirls what’s left of her whiskey around in her glass.

“I told you she’d catch feelings,” Liv teases, nudging her friend. Florence stares at the green surface of the bar, tapping her feet against her stool. “Footballers aren’t—”

“She’s not the one with the feelings.” Livvy pauses, shaking her head; she doesn’t understand.

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Livvy tries the sentence out, “she’s not the one with the…”

“Don’t.” Florence holds her index up to her friend’s face. “We both know now. Don’t make me say it out loud.”

“Have you told her?”

No.

Why on earth would she do that?

The answer is conveyed in the pointed look Florence shoots her.

Her and Livvy speak no more of the matter, continuing their night in the overpriced cocktail bar. It’s packed with the rich and famous, so it isn’t a hard task for Florence to befriend some producer or other. He extends an invitation for her to join him in the bathroom, cheeks rosy and eyes glazed over. She finds herself accepting, but only does the cocaine in front of her. He tries to kiss her but his lips feel wrong; rough when they should feel soft. It’s not a difficult puzzle to solve. She doesn’t really want to kiss anyone other than you.

Florence decides not to put a stop to your agreement that night.

The producer hints that they should get going, get out of here, go to somewhere more… private. It makes her skin crawl. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s just not you.

She has never felt so embarrassed of her own internal monologue. She wants it to shut the fuck up. You like her sounds out mercilessly on repeat, echoing and echoing and echoing, until she’s scratching her scalp a bit too harshly. You’re still not back because it’s only Sunday.

You’re on the team bus. Asleep. She shouldn’t know that, but she grows curious of your whereabouts and checks Instagram. A teammate you often mention — teammate and best friend you’d drunkenly explained in attempt to not let her get to know you — is sure to house some video or other, and she’s correct. Katie McCabe has posted a picture of you fast asleep with a familiar green jumper bundled into a pillow.

She hates that she’s endeared. Instead, Florence makes a mental note to chastise your use of her cashmere clothing, and focuses on how annoyed that has made her feel.

With each passing minute she stares at the picture, she imagines her feelings for you smothered beneath the fabric, suffocated until they don’t exist anymore.

- - -

Much to your dismay, you are not loved enough to be woken with a kiss. The whistle blown in your ear is quite far from that.

“We’re here, sleeping beauty,” Katie follows with equal shrillness and volume. You press your face further into Florence’s jumper. It smells like her. “Get up, Y/n!”

“Fuck you,” you groan, yawning as you slowly stand up. “I was having a good dream.” Katie smirks. “A dream about kittens,” you clarify truthfully.

You join the huddle your team forms outside the bus. Most of the girls chat quietly, everyone exhausted from the hard fought win. A few of your teammates ask you to join them for a late dinner. Katie tells them that you have plans of your own before you can form a sentence.

A black town car parks in front of you, earning wolf whistles from almost everyone. “Someone fancies herself to be Ronaldo,” jokes Kim quietly. “Got room in there?”

The driver rolls down the window. It’s the middle of November in England, but he’s wearing aviators. “I was told to pick you up,” he says, voice gruff but familiar. There have been a few times where Florence has decided you can’t stay over and has sent you home in this black town car with the very same man. You didn’t realise she actually had a driver. You forget to associate the Flo that gasps your name like it’s a prayer with Florence Pugh.

“Thank you, Douglas,” you reply with a smile. The Arsenal badge you wear proudly makes him scowl. “I hear West Ham haven’t been doing well this season.”

“You’re lucky I’m contractually obliged to drive you to Miss Pugh’s building,” he tells you. You take it as playful, but it probably has some truth to it.

Thankfully no one else seems to catch the conversation, fawning over Leah and Beth’s joint appearance to collect their respective players. Katie sends you a wink as she gets into the car in which she’ll be the fifth wheel.

- - -

Florence thanks whoever is watching above that you got some rest on the bus.

She’s helpless the minute you walk through the door with a cocky grin. You don’t have time to comment on how desperate she must be if she’s sent a car, because you’re jumped and are carrying her to a stable surface before you get a chance to take your shoes off. She likes the idea of making out in the middle of her hallway, not doubting your strength (how can she? she’s seen you naked) and ability to be able to do so. However, Florence takes pity on you and grants you the opportunity to rest your arms before they’re put to very good use.

You have your joggers halfway down your legs by the time you get the two of you to her bedroom. She stands up as soon as you set her down on her bed. You undress quicker.

Your lips seem to cover every inch of her, but you focus on her shoulder as you pull her closer, hands wrapped around her torso. One hand shifts south, tugging the elastic band of her panties, warm palm soothing the trail of goosebumps your touch leaves. It’s soft and tender and Florence is not about to let herself do anything but fuck.

She grabs that hand and pulls it away. “No,” she says, and you stop immediately. “Get on the bed.”

Your haze of arousal clears, and you’re concerned. “You alright?”

Fuck you for caring.

“Yes,” she states impatiently. “Get on the bed.”

The victory is easy, and you sprawl out against the white bedsheets confidently. Your pose makes Florence want to absolutely ruin you.

She throws you the strap and tells you to put it on. You blush as she watches you, and try not to die when she rewards you by mounting you without delay (cause of death: too attracted to women).

You gasp as you cup the hips rocking into you, and Florence finds that unacceptable. She is not going to tolerate any ardent touches. How dare you remind her of how she feels.

“No,” she says, pushing your hands off her. “I’m going to ride you until one of us snaps, and you’re going to keep your hands away from me. Okay?”

The unexpected dominance isn’t not doing it for you, and the consequential look on your face finalises the control Florence has regained.

“More than okay.” You nod to punctuate your breathless stammer of a sentence.

Florence pulls out every trick she’s ever been taught about sex, employing every element of herself to complete the show she is giving you. And just like magic, it works.

She does eventually relinquish control of the top after an orgasm or two, sated by the way your muscles tense as if you haven’t allowed yourself to breathe in a long time.

You don’t know how it happens, but you find the groove of your usual dominance soon enough to have her asking for more as you press up against her in every right way possible.

Florence Pugh realises you might be a little too good in bed.

To console herself, she pretends each thud of the headboard against the wall is hammering the bubbling feeling of love far, far down.

The feelings survived the suffocation, and will survive this too, but it isn’t for lack of trying.

It’s late by the time you’ve both washed up, but you don’t make an effort to slip into her bed. She misses the days (nights) where you’d stare longingly at the pillows but never be granted permission to stay, and regrets ever giving in to those eyes.

You sit rigidly at the foot of her bed, accidentally staring at her, perplexed. She finds it all too endearing how your face usually lays your thoughts bare.

“What was that about?” you ask carefully, wrapping your tongue around the words slowly. You’re being cautious. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, that has got to be the best thing I’ve ever experienced. It was so hot? You were so hot, and you’re always hot — I always find you hot — but that was a new level of fucking sexy, and I’m getting distracted. You just seemed determined. Are you, well, is everything okay?”

“Of course,” she brushes off.

You know it’s a lie. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist.

“Flo…”

She hates it when you call her that. It makes her skin crawl. In a bad way. A bad way, most definitely.

“You’re really going to pretend to care?” she asks bitterly. This is apparently her plan B. “I’m fine.”

“Oh,” you reply, dejected, “okay. I was just—” You decide to leave it, ending your sentence there. She looks at you expectantly, and you climb in beside her, slipping underneath the covers as comfortably as one would in their own home. “I’m playing next Wednesday.” Florence nods encouragingly; she knows that. “And, uh, my brother was going to watch but he’s been asked to help out with a faulty set, so I have a spare ticket.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find—”

“Can you come?” She squints at you. You repeat the question. “Obviously you don’t have to, but it’s the Champions League so the game will be good and there’ll be food and I can actually set you up in the executive box, now that I think about it. So you don’t have to sit— ‘cause my ticket would be in… What?”

Head propped up by her arm, Flo smiles. “By all means, continue.” You frown. “As long as you win,” she agrees. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

You feel a little used. “Goodnight, Flo.”

As Wednesday approaches, you become absent from Florence’s bed. It leaves her sexually frustrated and a bit hurt emotionally, but when you call her from Leah’s guest bathroom and explain everything she forgives you. Her anger is redirected towards your manager.

Jonas has created a new rule that only seems to apply to you. If it’s just for sex, players are heavily encouraged (commanded) to spend the night before the game away from their distraction. When announced, he purposefully avoided looking at you, perhaps allowing you to have a shred of dignity left. Leah offered her spare bedroom because it used to be yours when you first moved to Arsenal.

A harsh, impatient knock on the door ruins the conversation. “It’s late, you should be in bed,” Leah reprimands you. “Be responsible. Or I’ll tell Jonas.”

You are not in that man’s good books right now. “Don’t tell Jonas,” you grumble, flushing the toilet to make it seem like you had a reason for being in there. “Night, Mum.”

Unlocking the bathroom door, you traipse out with your phone volume as low as possible until the spare room is sealed and private. The joggers you’re wearing will be fine to sleep in, and you’re too lazy to change. Once Florence hears the rustle of your sheets, she’s quick to speak up again.

“Sleeping?”

You bite your bottom lip. You should be getting some rest, and tomorrow’s game is important. But there is something anchoring you to the sound of her soft breathing on the other end of the line. You don’t want to hang up. “So… what are you wearing?”

You’re not going to apologise for what’s about to happen at Leah’s place, even if your friend drinks two coffees the next morning instead of one. And Leah’s not going to talk about the name she hears you moan when she walks past your room at an unfortunate time.

Until she runs into you in the car park after you part ways to grab something you ‘left behind’ (it may have been a certain someone’s bum but the specifics are of little importance), and in turn walks right into Florence Pugh dressed to the nines. And then, from the car the actress just got out of, emerges Leah’s stammering teammate offering a half-hearted explanation because Flo really does look drop-dead gorgeous and you’re not quite over it yet.

Jaw set, Leah grinds her teeth judgmentally. “So this is your…”

“Friend,” Florence supplies, not caring if it’s futile and a waste of breath. She looks at you, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, Flo and I are friends!” Not a single person in this conversation believes that. “Sorry, quick introduction: Leah, this is Flo; Flo, Leah.” Your hands wave around the space between them, nervously trying to distract the piercing stares of one set of green eyes and another of grey. “She’s going to watch.”

The two women look each other up and down. Leah crosses her arms, Florence takes a step closer to you. “I’m excited,” the actress says, though it’s unenthusiastic and entirely provocative; a jab at the sport Leah clearly adores.

“We’d better get going, shouldn’t we?” you squeak, feeling Florence’s hand rest on your waist. “Leah?”

“Yeah,” she acknowledges, though she makes no effort to back away from the silent battle. Five more uncomfortable seconds and she stands down. “Let’s go.” Leah grabs your arm and you furrow your eyebrows, leaving Florence to find her way to her seat.

“What was that?!” you hiss once you’re out of earshot. “Have a pissing contest with her, why don’t you!”

“She’s messing with your feelings,” Leah states as if it is a fact taught in primary school. She’s about to continue, but Lotte slaps you both on the bum and tells you to hurry up.

Both her and Katie give you disapproving looks when they spot her in the crowd. You’re sure you see steam coming out of Leah’s ears at the sight of Florence being engaged in conversation with her mum. You kick the ball at her stomach to snap her out of it.

Florence has done her research. It’s a thing she does: research. Reading up on characters, accents, producers, interviewers, actors, and, most recently, you. She likes to think it’s not stalking if she sticks to Google, but amends that mentality once Google becomes too sparse for new information and your Instagram is filled with little insights into your life.

When the arrangement was new, she only cared about who you were, making sure you weren’t married or something ridiculous like that. Before today’s game, she added to her mental factfile with details of how you play. A few updated statistics from the ones she skimmed before ogling at your social media, but most notably a new article from Sky.

Will Y/n L/n leave Arsenal?

It seems that a rumour is being circulated around the WSL that you’re to be traded to Barcelona. You haven’t made an official comment, but the speculation is that you’re outgrowing Arsenal. Florence then went down a rabbit hole of how club transfers work, conveniently knowing that you’ve signed onto Arsenal for another two years. It settles the growing anxiety in her stomach at the thought of you being in another country for an extended amount of time. Moving doesn’t make sense, and you are quick to shut it down when she asks.

Amanda, Leah’s mum, is glad to have Florence to talk to. She’s always been a fan of gossip, and Florence indulges her by talking about what happened at the Oscars. “I love my daughter, I love that she loves football, but it does get tiresome,” Amanda tells Florence with a hushed voice as if she is slandering the entire sport. “I was always a bit of a netball girl, anyway,” she confesses. “Oh, who’re you here to see? I was going to ask.”

Florence remembers that this woman loves to gossip. “I’m keeping the seat warm for Y/n’s brother. He’s a friend.” Your brother was a colleague who has served no other purpose in the arrangement other than his rager of a birthday party in which Florence kissed you on his balcony and you snuck away from everyone else.

“Y/n’s lovely! She’s come a long way, what with her family situation.” Florence is intrigued. “We used to take her to training when those awful people looking after her wouldn’t give her the bus money. I was glad to hear when she moved out.”

This was not on Google.

Florence doesn’t like having her privacy invaded, and so she nods passively along, not asking any questions. Maybe she’ll bring it up with you later.

The whistle blows and the match begins.

Florence can’t help but cheer along with Amanda’s enthusiastic encouragement.

There’s a moment when you look up and see her grinning right back at you, beside the family of other players. She looks like she belongs there.

You want her to belong there.

And, yes, you get tackled because you’re distracted, but you realise you have fallen in love with Florence Pugh.

tags: @pewpughpew @ridleypugh @jeyramarie @flosbelova @kassies-take @delfiore @yelenabelovasbxtch @xsophiesx @slut4milfs69 @sunshadesnrainbowz @wandasbb @karsonromanoff

[reputationbarbie]

❝on my cloud, i got some space for you.❞

read the rest of the series before this chapter or you’re getting spoilers.

A/N: alright, i listened to the poll. this isn’t edited so ignore any mistakes. please leave feedback in the comments ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

Chapter Summary: the sweetest baker is surrounded by love on the anniversary of her parent's passing.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol, slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), symptoms of anxiety and depression, panic attacks, grief, fluff, comfort, lmk if i forgot something.

Series Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, slow burn, dual-pov, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!MC, no y/n.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist, joel masterlist ⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

My throat croaks out a couple of notes as I hum along to the song in my ears on Wednesday. The calming smell of lemons wafts through the room reminding me of my mother. She always used to bake lemon cookies and cakes. Now the smell of sugary citrus envelopes me like a hug. 

I take a break, reaching for my water bottle when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Abandoning my attempts to take a sip, I take out my earbuds.

When I turn around I see Chloe standing behind me, looking past my body at what I’m making. “I'm not trying to be rude but are we rebranding or something? Everything's lemon-flavored,” she points out with her thumb towards the front of the store.

Perspiration instantly begins collecting on top of my skin. “Oh, shit. No, I’m sorry,” I apologize, wiping my hands on my apron. “I don't know why I did that,” I murmur and my eyes drift behind her.

I’ve been in an odd daze all week, unable to focus and even Joel has noticed. I’m pretty sure he told Ellie to take it easy on me this week since she hasn’t been around much. Then again, she has been hanging at the Austin a lot more since the whole Thanksgiving fiasco. I can’t put my finger on it, but he promised he was going to take off and help support me all day today. I wonder if he likes lemon cakes. 

Chloe waves her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. Her brows knit and concern washes over her face. “Are you okay?” she questions.

I nod, stepping past her to wrap up in the kitchen. “Yeah. I don't know what's up with me today. I just feel weird,” I remain vulnerable with her.

Chloe approaches the island I’m standing at, putting her hands on the table and leaning forward. “Ginny, love,” she looks at me as though I should already know what’s going on.

I pick up a sanitization rag and wring it out to begin cleaning the tabletop. “What?” I snip. I hate suspense.

She bites the inside of her cheek, hollowing out her mouth. An awkward silence fills the room and I curse myself for sending the others home so early. “You usually don't work today,” she points out.

I work every day, that’s the perks of owning your own bakery. “What are you talking about? it's just Friday,” I point out when the double doors to the kitchen smack open, letting in a cold gust of air.

Leo stomps in with his arms crossed, wearing black shoes and a matching tie wrapped around his neck. “Why are you working?” he chastizes, as he gets closer.

My once slow movements of cleaning pick up in frustration. I begin furiously scrubbing a stain in the metal that will realistically be there forever. “Why do people keep asking me that?” I groan.

My eyes return to focus on the stain. The fucking stain has to come out. Right now, right now, right now. “Imogen,” Leo sighs kindly. He puts his hands on my waist, pulling me backward from the procrastination. “Let’s go chat, hmm?”

I sigh, passing the cleaning products to Chloe and following Leo into the front of the bakery. He heads straight for my favorite booth, secluded in the back of the bakery towards the widows. 

“You're scaring me,” I divulge, sliding into the Tiffany blue pleather seat. 

Leo’s eyebrow raises before he seemingly realizes his facial expressions, reeling it back in. Men. “Relax. Have you talked to Joel today?” he questions.

“Yeah, this morning. He said to call him if I needed anything today.”

Leo leans forward across the acrylic table. “Ginny, it's December 18th,” he rasps and his words hit me like a truck.

December 18th. The day that my parents were crushed between two trucks on Interstate 290. It was unexpected and their business ties to Europe left me suddenly alone and having to clean up their shit for myself.

It took months to secure an end to it all. Although I wasn’t as close with my dad as I was with my mom, I still miss him just as much.

They say after traumatic events there’s an increase in marriages, divorces, and disappearances. As soon as I got the call, I quit and became fully invested in doing only the shit I wanted to. One of which included opening my bakery. I divorced nursing, disappeared further from the north side, and married baking.

You knew. Of course, you knew. That’s why you’ve been feeling weird all day. My head innately tilts as I stare off into space. 

My spiral of cataloging my every movement to assign guilt to them begins. I should’ve known and now half the day is gone without me honoring my parents. “I’m calling Joel,” Leo’s crip voice snaps me out of my thoughts. 

My head begins to shake. I don’t want to worry him for no reason. I just need to take some time away from the bakery, that is all. “No. It's not that big of a deal. I don't want to bother him,” I plead with Leo to spare the poor single father.

Leo ignores it and pulls out his phone, unlocking the device with the face sensor. “You're not bothering. Poor guy is probably just giving you space and waiting by the phone,” he explains.

Leo’s fingers tap on the tempered glass before he puts the device on the table. I look down, seeing it’s already on speaker and the ringing fills my ears.

Joel answers after two trills, per usual. “Hey. Ginny need me?” he suggests, voice dripping with honey.

I open my mouth to decline but before I do, Leo speaks up, “Yes.” If I weren’t so short I’d reach over the table and smack his head. So instead, I scold him, “Leo!” Why the fuck would he speak for me?

“My bad, Joel. She didn’t know we spoke before I came in. Yes, she does need you. I have a meeting at 1 and I need you to come by. Maybe cook her something,” he requests and the corners of my mouth quirk up in a smile. Despite what I said on the first day of our meeting, I love everything that Joel specifically cooks. 

Leo pauses and her eyes look me up and down judgingly. “She doesn’t look like she’s eaten today,” he adds and I scowl at them both.

This time, I’ve had enough of Leo’s bullshit and I kick him beneath the table. He lets out a groan, shooting daggers in my direction with his eyes. But, skipping breakfast due to anxiety isn’t a cause for concern.

Joel doesn’t skip a beat, immediately answering, “Be there in 10.”

“Thanks, man,” Leo exhales, probably glad to be relieved of his suicide watch duties for the day. Maddie and Leo stayed with me during the emotional rollercoaster of this day last year, and although they’re my best friends, I don’t expect Leo to want more. Especially when I have a partner now.

He clicks the red circle on the screen and I practically collapse on the table between us. “God, Leo. I'm going to kill you,” I groan into the hard material.

“He's your boyfriend. He's supposed to be the one comforting you and not me, right?” he questions and I can’t say I disagree.

“You’re right,” I complain one last time before lifting my head and fixing the mess of curls around my head. “Okay, you can go. I’m just going to change my clothes.”

“Are you sure? I can cancel this meeting,” he placates. No, he shouldn’t. And that’s okay. I don’t want his life to stop just because mine is currently.

I try my hardest to plaster on a fake smile, but it causes me mental anguish. “Positive. I’m going to get comfy so Joel can snuggle the shit out of me,” I tell him my plans. 

He grimaces, probably from my gushy words. His dark brown eyes search my face for any sign of discomfort. Once he’s satisfied, he nods. “Alright, I’ll call later. I’d stop by but you’ll be getting fucked as a distraction,” he smirks, before standing from the table and darting out of the bakery.

My jaw drops in shock. I most certainly won't be screwing my boyfriend on the anniversary of my parent's death. But maybe tomorrow, like early tomorrow. As soon as the clock hits midnight. 

How can I even be horny at a time like this? There’s gotta be some unnatural demon inside of me. I drag my hands down my face, trying to pull myself back into reality before standing from the booth. Walking over to the counter, I lean over to talk to Chloe. There are still patrons in the bakery and I don’t need them hearing about my personal life. “I’m going to retire upstairs. Let me know if you need anything. Joel should be here soon and you can send him up,” I list, quietly.

Chloe nods before taking my hands in hers. “Don’t worry, I got it. This is why I’m your manager,” she eases my anxiety.

I nod, bidding her goodbye before walking towards the back of the bakery. Tears start to collect in my eyes again and I repeat my favorite mantra. No crying in public, Ginny. You just have to get upstairs then you can let it out.

But it doesn’t work.

By the time I’m climbing up the staircase, the tears are already streaming down my face causing an uncomfortable burn on my cheeks. When I reach the top, I slide the barn door open to my living quarters at an alarming rate.

The wood smacks into the door frame and I rush into the space, careful not to let the mewling kittens out behind me. I softly shut the door, watching out for their tails with strained vision.

Okay, you’re alone Ginny. Let it out.

I don’t know what I expected to happen. I couldn’t foresee myself ever falling to my knees and sobbing on the living room floor, but that’s exactly what occurs. My chest becomes tight as I choke on my own spit, babbling niceties about my mother and father.

I don’t know how long I’m crouched on the floor when I hear my living room door slide open. My knees feel sore from the hardened floor beneath me but my tears don’t stop, creating a wet stain on my grey top. “Damn, sugar,” I hear Joel say before he slides the door shut behind him. 

I look up to find him rushing towards me, joining me on the floor. His typically messy hair looks freshly cut and I can tell he's used the start of the day to visit the barbershop. His green flannel shirt is opened nice and low, hugging his biceps deliciously. “Deep breaths. Know it’s hard but you can do it,” he encourages, rubbing warm circles onto my back. 

His words barely register and as I try to get my breathing under control, hiccuping in between breaths. With each uneven breath, I attempt to keep a hold on my digestive system and not let out a sad fart. Or worse, vomit in his lap.

“After Sarah died, I had panic attacks too. Still get ‘em sometimes,” he divulges. 

His hands trail up my spine to the back of my neck. His thumb traces soothing designs into my skin, effectively grounding me. My rocketing heartbeat slowly starts to steady and I allow myself to close my eyes knowing that Joel is here to catch me if I fall. His arms envelop me from behind, pulling my body so I’m sitting in his lap.

He softly caresses my hair and I tune him out as he begins whispering affirmations in my ear. I stare off into space and I jerk slightly in his hold when Joel presses a soft kiss to my neck.

I know where I am, but the last 30 minutes feel like a blur. Disassociation is a bitch.

When I finally feel aware again, Joel is still murmuring into my neck, but this time he’s talking about our future. “We’ll always be here. Me 'n Ellie through whatever,” he promises, pausing to take a breath.

I nod to let him know that I’m actually back this time. He rubs my back and I hear a soft meow coming from the floor. Toph is looking up at me with her green eyes, seemingly afraid. “We’ll have to get a bigger place for the 5 of us,” Joel adds, and I chuckle, scooping the orange kitten into my arms.

“Thank you for coming and just,” I start before gesturing to his body with one hand. “Being you,” I finish before a hiccup roars through my chest.

Joel positions himself more comfortable on the floor so he’s sitting in front of me. “I mean it. Every word,” he emphasizes, pressing a quick kiss to my wet cheeks. I smile at him, grateful for his presence.

Toph paws at my chest, snuggling into my body. Like always, Katara becomes jealous of her sister's attention, and she comes slinking behind the couch up to Joel. She struts up his leg, plopping down in the middle of his lap and shutting her eyes. 

“They’re fuckin’ somethin’ else,” Joel sneers, stroking Katar’s grey fur. I snicker in agreeance, setting Toph down in the sunlight on the floor in demonstration. Joel accepts the permission to remove my cat from his personal space, following suit carefully.

I glance at Joel’s face, admiring the constellation of freckles beneath a layer of dark circles. His hair is pushed back neatly with pomade and god, he looks edible. My heart quickens when I realize, I probably look a mess with makeup running down my face. 

He catches me staring and he licks his lips before asking, “What do you want for lunch?”

My brain mentally catalogs all the groceries Joe’s bought and stocked in my fridge. He figured if he’s going to make every meal, he might as well have what he needs. He insists he’s content with us staying in our respective lanes. After all, he’s just as excited for the dessert surprise at the end of the meal as Ellie is. 

Figuring I can’t be picky since I’m not cooking, I decide to let him choose. “Whatever you want. I’m going to go clean myself up and get changed,” I inform him, frowning at my appearance.

Joel seemingly notices my self-judgment and sits up, pulling my face closer with my hands. “I think you’re gorgeous, sugar,” he compliments before pressing a chaste kiss on my forehead.

My skin tingles from the warmth and I can't help but smile into the sign of affection. However, my insecurity doesn't drown, grabbing my hair and pulling me back from the gorgeous man I call mine. “You’re a liar, but it’s fine,” I murmur, using his shoulders to stabilize myself as I stand.

His strong arms wrap around my body holding me close. “I wudn’t lie to you,” he promises, and I nearly become weak in the knees from that accent.

I hum in reply, deciding it’s my turn to steal a kiss from him. I haven't tasted him in a couple days when I visited him and Ellie, and I’m starting to feel like I'm forgetting a piece of him. My body lowers until we’re at eye level, and the air between us zaps. 

He never fails to make me feel this way. Thunder rumbles in my stomach and lightning strikes low in my abdomen. It’s confusing, but I welcome every second of it.

Joel becomes impatient with my hovering and he brushes our lips together. The kiss is sweet and I smile into it before parting my lips. He swirls his tongue around mine while cradling my body into his. 

We continue for a few moments before I need to come up for air, and I disconnect immediately looking down at his reddened lips. I press one final peck to them before getting up, for real this time.

Joel pats me on the behind as I walk out of the room before he stands himself with a grunt. Toph trails behind me into my bathroom, brushing up against my leg with a purr as I look in the mirror.

My reflection makes me want to start crying again. My throat fills with ache as I try to stuff the oncoming tears out. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only unattractive person I know. 

I push the thought out of my head and for my headband, securing my hair away from my face. After pumping face wash into my hand, I hum while massaging my face. The sticky layer of tear stains rinse down the drain and I feel a sense of relief.

Once my face is clean, I reach for my towel to dry it off when I feel something particularly fuzzy. I open my right eye, peering at the counter to see Toph's tail underneath my hand. “Fuck off, cat. No counters,” I scold my shadow, lifting and setting her on the floor with wet hands.

She wines as her paws hit the floor, and I grab a clean towel from the drawer. Why did I get two cats?

After patting my face dry and discarding the towels in the hamper, I walk out towards the kitchen. As I tip-toe down the hall, I can hear Joel shuffling about. When I round the corner, I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. It’s nice to admire him in moments like this, although he’s bound to look up towards my bathroom any minute.

As if the universe hit the play button on my vision, his eyes snap to mine. “Come,” he waves me over with a welcoming grin.

I stroll over behind him before I snake my arms around his waist. My front presses into his back and I catalog every flex of muscle in his body. His arm begins sliding with precision, perfectly cutting the potato in front of him into thin slices. “Fries?” I question out of curiosity. 

“And a burger your way,” he glances over his shoulder at me before returning to his chopping.

I press myself up on my tiptoes, placing a kiss on his shoulder blade. This man is perfect for me in every way. Caring for me, cooking for me, and giving me countless orgasms. My relationship with Ellie is just the cherry on top. Even if Joel and I ended things, I’d still want to be in her life.

The realization hits me like a truck and without thinking I stammer, “God, I lo–”  before cutting myself out.

My body chills to ice and the oxygen is sucked from my lungs in an instant. Joel pauses his movements and stands frozen in place. I take a step back from him, turning away from him.

I need to do something to distract him from the fact that I almost just said I love you.

I reach for the kettle to set some water on for tea, fumbling about with the top of the lid. “What’d’ya say, sugar?” Joel asks from behind me.

I shake my head, feeling the hole he’s staring in my head. If I confess right now, he might leave me like everyone does. He’ll call me a crazy person and forbid me to see Ellie.

Joel’s warm hand covers mine and I jerk, before peering down. I blink rapidly at the water spilling over the top of the filled pot. “Fuck,” I swear, turning off the water and dumping a bit out of the metal container.

I shake my hand dry before my eyes meet Joel. “You sure you okay?” Joel questions with furrowed brows.

I nod, putting the lid back on the kettle. It’s a mistake, him seeing me like this. All overwhelmed and in disarray. I obviously can’t even string together a cohesive thought.

My hands fiddle around with the stove, pressing buttons until the electric burners turn red. I set the kettle down on top, turning back to face Joel. 

My face turns scarlet when I see he hasn’t moved. He has instead settled into a position with one hand resting on top of the counter and the other on his hip. “I won’t call you a liar. But whatever it is, ’m here when you’re ready,” he offers lowly. 

And as if nothing happens, he moves back to preparing the potatoes. I finally exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Thank god he’s not hell-bent on embarrassing me today.

Deciding to take the glorious out he’s presented me, I slide into the bar seat across from him, ready to watch my favorite pass time: Chef Joel Miller cooking in my kitchen. His brows furrow and his tongue sticks out of the side of his mouth when he’s intensely focused.

A lightbulb goes off in my head and I realize, I haven’t checked up on his Michelin Star journey. “Have 3 stars to your name yet?” I ask as he turns to fill a pot with water.

“Not quite. Heard rumors we’ve already got 2 visits though,” he explains and his voice bounces off the large window in front of him.

I nod and the corners of my mouth turn up. All I want is for those around me to succeed and he’s one step closer to his goal. “That’s great, that’s only one more left. It can’t be long now,” I chirp.

Joel leans on his left leg impatiently and I focus on his back. He inhales a long deep breath and I can tell he’s not as confident. “Yeah,” he grunts.

I brush a stray curl out of my face before observing, “You don’t sound so sure.”

He sighs before turning off the water. “I am. Thought about what you said that day and ’m worried my employee's customer service is being affected by my words, Gin.”

Fuck, he’s never called me Gin before. What I said must’ve been weighing on him. Shit, shit. Code red, Ginny. “Joel, it's fine. You’ve made the changes and the reviewers will see that,” I blabber out.

Joel carries the pot over to the stove. “I know, ’m just stressed and all,” he says while fiddling with the same buttons I was moments ago.

My body begins involuntary twisting and turning in the bar stool. Joel takes notice of the fact that I've used the tea water as a diversion, switching off the kettle as he goes. I snort and shake my head at how well he knows me.

“Wait until you actually get the stars,” I emphasize the horror of his future.

Joel picks out a pink towel from the drawer beneath his waist, quickly whipping his hands off.  “Yeah, I’ll be busy as hell."

“And it’ll be nice to have Ellie back in the bakery more,” I add excitedly.

Joel sighs and shakes his head. “I’ll have to get her into an afterschool program of some kind,” he responds.

My brows knit on my forehead watching him begin to prep the burger patties. “Why?” I ask.

He sets a bottle of seasoning down with a thunk and I know he means business. His deep chestnut eyes connect with my hazel ones and I know I’m no longer talking to my sweet, timid, Joel. I’m interacting with Chef Miller. “Cause you shouldn’t have to be responsible for her,” he grits through his teeth.

My lips purse and I cross my arms, slightly offended that he’d suggest I can’t handle hanging out with Ellie. “I think I can manage,” I theorize.

“I’m serious, Gin,” he argues.

“So am I. Ellie is the closest thing I have to a daughter. We already–” lied to the principal and staff at her school about our relationship. “Erm, she’s already here until close. What’s a few extra hours?” I finish as smoothly as possible, but I’m not sure Joel is buying it by the look on his face.

He raises a brow and his head tilts ever so slightly. “Are you sure?” he asks and I roll my eyes. If he asks again, my answer may be different.

There’s no reason for Ellie to join an afterschool program when she’s already comfortable here. “Positive. You are my boyfriend, Miller,” I conclude, quite finished with this conversation when the aftertaste from my words hit. “Partner,” I correct myself, looking down shyly.

“I love it when you call me that” I hear him say, causing a chuckle to slip from my throat.

We sit in comfortable silence for the remainder of the time Joel spends cooking. He occasionally glances up at me while bustling around the kitchen. Every time we make eye contact, my skin sets ablaze and I have to look away.

It seems childish to look away when your partner catches you staring. But he’s so goddamn sexy, I can’t help it. If I don’t look away, my carnal desires will replace my grief, and I’m not ready for that.

I wonder if Joel ever felt extremely horny and inappropriately happy in his grief. There’s only one way to find out.

I clear my throat, rapidly blinking away the fuzz of my thoughts. “Joel,” I murmur to get his attention.

He looks up from the set of plates, giving me a half smile. “Hmm. You ready to eat, sugar?” he asks, probably assuming I’m rushing him for food.

I don’t move from my spot to not give him the wrong idea. “Yeah but uh,” I start, pausing to pick at my nail polish.  “Can I ask you something?” I question softly.

Joel pops a French fry he dropped on the counter into his mouth. “Anythin',” he utters.

He slides my favorite meal over to me and I just about see stars. It takes everything I have in me to focus on the task at hand and not swallow the burger whole.

“How long did it take you to stop feeling guilty about being happy? You know, after…” I trail off, not wanting to bring up Sarah’s passing so bluntly.

His eyebrows raise and he leans back as if he was physically impacted by my words. Shock etches over his tan face and I immediately pick up a couple of french fries, awkwardly stuffing my mouth full. “Two years and Ellie was the first person I let in. Then you came along shortly after,” he confesses.

I quickly chew my food before gulping harshly. “Oh,” I murmur.

“Oh?” Joel counters with a tilt of his head.

I nod, picking up another fry. “Yeah, it’s not bad. It’s just that I don’t think I have two years,” I think out loud.

My eyes scan the counter for Joel’s signature barbeque sauce, anxious to dip try it with the crispy potatoes. “Be patient, sugar,” he scolds.

Joel seemingly notices my attention is elsewhere and suddenly, a tiny bowl of the brown condiment is set in front of me. I blush and give him a silent thank you with a half smile. “Never been too good at that,” I admit.

Picking up the burger, I examine it to see which side is the best for the first bite. “Oh I know,” I hear Joel say before our eyes connect. He tilts his head with a mischievous smirk on his face that sends fire into my cheeks. 

I shake my head at him before taking a huge bite of the juicy burger. The flavors dance on my taste buds reminding me of summer barbeques. “Mmmm, this is orgasmic,” I compliment my sexy chef.

He swallows his bite before asking, “Changed the seasoning. Taste alright?”

I nod, already ready to inhale the entire meal. “Joel, I didn’t know your burgers could get better. This is amazing,” I express.

“Well, if my toughest critic says it’s good, I’ll trust it,” he jokes and I chuckle.

Delicious food, passionate sex, and god's gift to humanity. I am the luckiest woman on earth.

The door flies open sending my eyes flying open and me jerking into Joel’s stomach. He groans before smoothing my curls with his palm. “It’s just Ellie,” he informs me she’s back from school.

I sigh, cuddling further into his body now that my anxiety has eased. “Hey,” his teenage daughter grunts when she comes into view.  

Ellie begrudgingly kicks her shoes off and drops her backpack to the side. If her body could talk, it would scream. “Bad day at school?” I observe.

She nods, picking up Toph who’s sitting in her spot on the couch. “Mmhm,” she grunts out just like her dad as she takes a seat.

“Well,” I start, tossing her the remote. “I’ll let you pick,” I offer her the once-in-a-lifetime chance.

She snickers, “No, you won’t.” She gives me a pointed look and asks, “What are my options?”

I purse my lips. She’s right, I’m just shitty she knows me so well. “Grey’s or SVU,” I answer.

Ellie nods, extending the remote in her hand to click through the app. Joel begins practically petting me again. “Sugar, you sure? Don’t wanna see you cryin’ no more,” Joel growls lowly as if seeing me cry and him not being able to control it pissed him off.

I can understand if he needs control over something, but today isn’t that day. “Positive,” I reassure him.

He nods, before placing his hand under my head and gently lifting it. “Sorry, sugar,” he grunts as he stands.

He turns towards the L-shaped couch with his hand on his hip, accentuating his slender waist and I practically start drooling. “What do you two want for dinner?” he questions, looking back and forth between us.

I prop my head up in my hand and look at Ellie who looks particularly glum. She’s curled into the couch, holding Toph like the animal is her lifeline. I sigh, feeling the urge to punch someone for hurting my baby creep into my veins again. “El, you can pick. I already had my favorite for lunch,” I urge her.

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” she requests, not even looking up at her father.

Joel clears his throat and raises his eyebrow. Ellie looks up and her eyes dart back and forth between me and Joel. I raise my eyebrow at her because she should know what he’s looking for.

It only takes Elle a few seconds when she gets it. “Please?” she adds, looking at Joel for confirmation.

He nods and walks off to the kitchen, away from earshot. I look over at Ellie whos depressed body language hasn’t changed. My hand pats the couch next to me. “Why are you so far away? We both know this is the best TV-watching spot,” I invite her over.

When she comes over, she’s usually right next to me giving me all the school gossip. But maybe it’s because Joel is here. She slides over, sinking into the cushion. “What’s up, El? You look all…” my voice trails off and I mimic her body language.

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Dina,” she answers.

“Okay, what about Dina?” I ask. Fuck, teenagers are hard. I wish they’d just tell you the problem the easy way.

Ellie’s head snaps in my direction. “She has a crush,” she snips.

My eyebrows raise and I tilt my head. “And I’m guessing by your body language and your fucking tone,  you’re not her crush,” I lightly correct her.

She looks behind me and I assume she’s checking to see if Joel is still making us food. “No,” she states and her entire body shrivels. The rejection washes over her face and I want nothing more than to hug her.

My respect for her boundaries overrides my need for comfort. “Who does she have a crush on?” I counter.

Ellie gnaws on her lip for a moment like she’s reluctant to tell me. I understand, after all, Dina is working downstairs for me right now. “Jesse,” she tells me.

I rapidly blink, stunned by the news. “Jesse, delivery boy, Jesse?”

Ellie nods and my mouth forms an ‘o’ in response. I nod, understanding the gravity of this queer love triangle. Her shoulder hunch over even more and I decide it’s time to cheer her up with some words of encouragement.

“You know when I was a teenager, I had a crush on a girl who was dating our guy friend,” I divulge some of my past. Although she doesn’t know it involves Madi and Leo, she doesn’t need to know that to get the point.

“Really?” Ellie asks dumbfounded.

 I answer tight-lipped with a nod, “Mmmhm.”

“What happened?”

“I let it play out between the two of them. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be,” I tell her.

Ellie’s face scrunches and she looks weary of taking my advice. “Look, you don’t know if Dina likes you back right?”

Ellie shakes her head no. “Right, so don’t mess with the universe. If you’re meant to be, you’ll be. You never know, maybe a girl will come into the high school and shock the shit out of you,” I theorize.

Ellie rolls her eyes and scoffs, “I doubt that.”

“Keep your options open, El. Until you put a ring on someone’s finger,” I advise her. She’s a hot commodity and I’m going to tell her that every time she needs reminding. 

Joel’s head comes into view as he bends down to press a kiss on top of Ellie’s head. She lets out a blech noise, shrugging as far away from him as possible.

I laugh at the interaction while Joel simply shakes his head. “Dinner’s ready,” he alerts us.

When I peer over my shoulder, I see a delicious spread laid out. As always, Joel has beautifully plated 2 servings of grilled cheese and tomato soup. “Ooh, that looks good,” Ellie compliments her dad, setting Toph down and shooting up from the couch.

She darts into the breakfast nook, diving for the sandwich first. Her head tips back and she groans with satisfaction. “Good?” I slightly shout from the couch.

She nods her head, already moving on to try the soup. Joel chuckles and extends his hand to me. He knows I typically climb over the back of the couch and ever since my foot got caught on the couch that one time, he’s insistent on helping me over.

“Thank you,” I purr lowly, leaning in to press a quick kiss on his lips. 

When I lick my lips, I taste savory remnants of tomato from him tasting the soup. I blink rapidly at him stunned, feeling a similar wave of emotion as earlier. My butterflies erupt in my chest and my heart skips a beat, stumbling over the current.

Yup, that's definitely love.

I love Joel Miller and everything that comes with him. I love his deep raspy morning voice and the way his nostrils flare when he can’t quite get a recipe right. I love his southern twang and the furrow in his brows when he’s angry. 

The type of love I feel for him possesses every fiber in my body and takes over my brain. It wraps around my nervous system, acting on its own. It takes away all control I have and I don’t mind at all.

I adore Ellie and consider her to be one of my daughters. We’ve become so close these past few months and I can’t imagine a day without them in my routine. They’re the only two people I can stand around me all the time.

Joel clears his throat, bringing me back to the present. Reality smacks me like a truck and I blush. “You alright there, sugar?” Joel questions, voice laced with concern.

The corners of my mouth curve into a smile. “Yeah, I genuinely don’t know what just happened. I look at you and my mind goes blank. I think I'm going nuts,” I chuckle, slightly lying. 

When I look at him, my eyes turn into hearts and pop out of my head with my tongue rolled out like the red carpet. When our eyes connect, he makes me feel like I’m the only person he’s ever been interested in romantically. Which can’t be possible considering Sarah came from somewhere.

We join Ellie and the kittens playing by her feet at the breakfast nook and a comfortable silence falls over the table. My mother always said you know the food is good when it’s silent, and we’re not much for dinner conversations around here.

Joel reaches forward and pours me a glass of wine before pouring himself some. “Guess you two are staying the night?” I ask, pointing out that whenever Joel drinks with me, they usually end up crashing.

Joel raises his eyebrows as if he’s daring me to contest, taking a sip of his wine. “If that’s okay with you?” he questions, probably trying to hide the fact that he’s not going to leave me alone tonight.

I pick up my spoon, dipping it into the soup. “It is, but I was thinking I’d come to yours tonight. El has school in the morning,” I attempt to compromise.

Ellie rolls her eyes and groans, “That sucks, my bed here is more comfortable.”

Joel begins prepping to eat and I’ve never seen someone be so meticulous about such a thing. He lays a cloth napkin into his nap and I raise my eyebrow, wondering what hell of a closet he dug those out of. 

“It’s not your bed, Ellie. We don’t live here,” Joel corrects her and I shovel the soup in my mouth. It’s the perfect amount of savory and sweet. 

Joel picks up the sandwich and takes a bite, nodding at the taste. While his mouth is full, I decide to insert a suggestion, “No, but El, next time you’re here, you should bring some clothes just in case. That way you don’t have to wear my clothes whenever you want to stay over.”

Ellie responds without skipping a beat, “Sounds good.” 

I turn my attention back to my meal and my mind mentally drifts off. Christmas is soon so maybe I can tell him then. I don’t want to trauma bond with him right now and Christmas is a happy time. “I cleared a drawer out for you already,” Joel announces and I nearly choke on my sandwich.

“You what?” I blurt, my mind swirling with information.

In my peripheral, I see Ellie’s head going back and forth between me and Joel. “That too much? I’ll fill it back up. ‘s just some of my long sleeves,” he stammers.

“No!” I shout a bit too loudly, my body becoming hot when I realize the gravity of my tone. “I mean no, the drawer isn’t too much. I think it’d be too much if I moved in right now,” I add.

Joel nods, content with my answer, returning to his meal. “When you two move in together, can we move here?” Ellie asks, refusing to read the weight of awkwardness in the room.

Joel clears his throat and he straightens his posture a bit. Sensing his uncomfortability, I step in to talk for the both of us, “We haven’t talked about that yet, El. But when it comes to it, I’d be happy to have you here.”

“Yay!” Ellie celebrates and I take a bite of my grilled cheese. It has the perfect amount of pull and my eyes are probably sparkling with admiration for Joel at the moment.

I chew and swallow before adding, “We’ll have to move eventually though. We need a house that we’ve all picked.” I would never sign a dotted line on a new place without Ellie and Joel’s approval at this stage in our relationship. I think we’ll be together for a long time, so I want to be considerate.

Ellie perks up again, “Really?”

I nod, glancing at Joel who has completely stopped eating at this point. “Mmhm, by then you’ll be 18 and you can have this place,” I continue my conversation with Ellie, knowing he’ll holler at any time he feels I’m overstepping.

Joel’s jaw clenches as I fight a snort, assuming he’s started stewing. “The bakery?” she asks, voice laced with confusion.

I set my spoon down and give her a knowing look. “No, El. Do you like baking?” I quip.

She shrugs, dipping her sandwich into her bowl. “Eh, it’s not my calling,” she admits before taking a bite.

“Exactly. I was talking about the apartment. You can have it when we eventually move out,” I foretell, motioning between me and her father with my hand.

“Gin,” Joel pulls my attention to him. When I glance down, his hands are balled tight into a fist, one wrapped tightly around a stainless stem spoon.

If he squeezes any more, he’ll bend my cuterly. And it’s completely unnecessary. “Joel, I’m not letting your child pay $1,000 in rent when we’ll have at least one empty apartment that’s completely paid off. Try again,” I dare him to argue.

Joel sighs but his body stays wound up. “She’s gonna be spoiled.”

I whip my head in Ellie's direction. “I don’t think you’re spoiled, are you, El?”

“Not in the slightest,” Ellie says through a shit-eating grin.

My head whips back toward Joel who isn’t the slightest bit amused by our display. “See, she gets the apartment, we get a new house,” I pause waiting for his face to change. When it remains stone cold, I add my secret tactic by purring, “alone,” into his ear. 

When I straighten my back, his eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head. Anticipation flickers in his eyes and I know I’ve hooked him to the idea.

Joel’s body slowly starts to relax, but Ellie puts the cherry on top. “And everyone’s happy. Maybe Dina would move in with me. Holy shit this is gonna be awesome,” she practically bounces, and the wood beneath her creaks.

“Slow your roll, kiddo. You’ve still got 4 years,” Joel warns and I kick him lightly under the table for taking the excitement out of everything. I want her to keep a hopeful possibility of romance with Dina and he’s ruining it.

Ellie opens her mouth but I step in before the pair can start arguing. “Speaking of totally awesome, what do you want for Christmas, El?” 

“I’m getting something for Christmas?” asks dumbfoundedly. 

“Umm, yeah. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Ellie shrugs and a rain cloud of trauma drifts in over her head. I watch as the sorrow rain falls on top of her head and my heart drops to my ass.  “I don’t know. Guess I’m just not used to it.”

I bite my lip, trying to keep it together for her. No child should have to go a December without a gift. I try my best to plaster on a fake smile to perk her up. “Well, I already have most of your gifts but I thought I’d ask you,” I tell her.

As if on command, the cloud of depressing memories is swapped for a blazing sun. “Really?” she gleans.

“Really. I love Christmas. It’s the busiest holiday for the bakery though.” I mentally curse the upcoming bustle, taking a sip of my wine.

Ellie chomps the last of her sandwich down, chewing slowly like she’s in deep thought. A sparkle comes over her eyes when it looks like she’s finally got it. “Well, some new paintbrush sets would be nice. I saw some watercolors on Instagram that are cool,” she hints.

“Send them to me,” I request.

“Okay,” she smiles, reaching into her back pocket to pull out her phone.

I smile at my hunky boyfriend, ready to point out the receipts of Ellie’s personality traits. “See, Joel. That is not a spoiled child. Madi would’ve asked for a Gucci bag and a stamp on her passport when we were younger.”

Ellie’s head perks up from her phone. “Wait, that’s an option?” she clarifies sarcastically. 

“No,” Joel barks at the same time as I offer, “Ask Madi.” 

Joel frowns in my direction and I quickly add, “We don’t have that type of money but Madi does and she’s always ready to spend it on someone. If you want something really expensive, she’s the one to ask.”

Joel's elbows come down on the table quite hard and he puts his head in his hands. “Gin,” he groans.

“What? Madi’s like her aunt or whatever now. She’s obligated by girl code to help her out,” I inform him, picking up my spoon. At this point, the utensil is useless. The food’s so good, I’m ready to drink the rest of the bowl down.

“Spoilin’ her ain’t helpin’,” he scolds me.

I blow the steaming liquid in front of my face. “No, but Ellie knows the value of money to know the difference between dinner at the estate versus dinner at the breakfast nook,” I say before taking a bite.

“Yeah, this sucks,” Ellie sarcastically grumbles, before picking up the soup and slurping the last bit of it.

I snicker, dipping the last of my sandwich into the soup. I never thought I could be this content after my parents passed but here I am, enjoying the anniversary of their death with my two favorite people.

I peer under the table at the sleeping cats and smile. I need to focus on the two people that I have a future with and a life with, not the two who are long gone. It’s what my mother would want for me, anyway. The girl that hooked me onto the man that I love. Fuck. I’ve got to find a better time to tell him.

[punishing-eden]

congrats on 151 follows, i enjoy your writing a lot and hope to see more !! 🫶

may i request a oneshot of lee comforting commandant after a long day? hyperreal's idle animation where he carries skk to bed melts my heart..and i'm sure my fellow lee simps can agree

Author's note:

🥺🥺🥺Thank you, I am glad you enjoy my work! And, I do have some more fic ideas on that back burner, both for PGR and other fandoms!

I heard about Hyperreal's animation, although I've seen his victory animation, I haven't seen the one where he carries SSK.

Lee simps unite! ✊

---------------------------------------------------

Night Time Over Time...

Lee (Palefire) x Commandant/reader

Not beta read, but proof read

Summary:

Working overtime became a habit for you, and it became a natural occurrence for your constructs. Lee wants to give you a piece of his mind.

Tags: Wholesome, one-shot, short fic, request

The chattering outside of his room took Lee's attention from what he was doing.

He listened to the faint chatter of two Babylonia candidates walking along the corridor during this hour of the night. It was usually these two who were the last ones to head to bed, and the ones responsible to wrap things up around the living-quarters of the base.

Lee took a glance at the time reading at 11:55 pm. The two candidates were heading to bed earlier than usual. It was an occurring sign for Lee.

Placing the screwdriver down, with a heavy heart, Lee stood up from his seat. He went out of his room with a destination in mind.

He walked through the corridor and turned left. Continue walking until he reaches the large double door of the practise room.

Lee took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He paused and ruminate the scenario in his M. I. N. D once again. To make sure, he has the correct wordings and sentences to go against your stubbornness.

Something must be done about your habits, and Liv was too soft to tell you, no.

Without a moment to waste, Lee approached the door and it automatically opened.

As it was expected he sees you sitting on the floor with your legs crossed staring at the empty shooting range.

In several instances, Lee had seen fooling around by yourself. Doodling on a piece of paper, singing to your heart's content, or just talking to yourself; procrastinating from the ever-growing amount of work.

However tonight, you were quiet and it felt a little off. Your eyes looked tired, your lips held down with a small frown, and your brows were furrowed.

He knew something was bothering you.

You didn't greet your construct. Too lost into your own thoughts, the fact of someone came into the practising room flew over your head.

"Commandant..." Lee spoke

Upon hearing your title, you turned your head and saw your construct standing by the door way looking at you.

Startled, you quickly put up a smiled and plied, "Oh hey, what are you doing here?"

"I should be the one asking," Lee crossed his arms, "It's late. What are you doing?"

"Just taking a break," you answered simply.

"...are you working overtime again?" Lee asked. He sounded a little concerned.

You became a little embrassed from his statement. It wasn't the first time your constructs has expressed their concerns about working overtime, "... It's nothing, just had a long day that's all..."

Your voice faded a little as you spoke while your expression shifted. And, Lee had caught a glimpse of how the stress has began to take a toll on you.

"What happened?”, Lee asked, genuinely curious about your troubles. He added, “ I can see your stress levels are gradually increasing again. Going any higher than 40%, will contribute to hair loss." Lee stated. His had his usual scowl of disapproval, looking at you made you feel a little nervous.

Letting out a small laugh, you tried ease Lee's worry. Nodding your head in acknowledgment, you said, "I will be fine, Lee," Standing up from the ground, you brush the dust off of your uniform," just let me finish my work first then I will head off to bed, I promise."

Lee held a skeptical look. He reckon you would work your way around the promises.

"No." he said it out flatly.

"Please~" you tried to convince him, you looked at Lee, "I just need three more hours before bed."

"No."

Putting your hands together, you begged Lee to let you off the hook, "Just one, one report and I will be done for the day."

"No."

For five minutes, the negotiating went back and forth. You continued to stand on your ground, opting to finish the most urgent report first before resting. Which was a good enough reasoning to convince Lee to agree.

"Fine, one report only," he crossed his arms and said, "I suppose I can help out too."

Sitting by the desk in your quarters, you began to type away in your report. Meanwhile, Lee helped writing the supporting report and sorted all the other related paperwork.

As minutes went by, you continued to work, asking Lee for assistance from time to time.

As your construct, Lee diligently obliged to every demand. Assisting you, with every detail from gathering supporting data files to the final printing of the entire report. Adjusting the angle of the staples to the colour coded indexes. Placing the hardcopy in a yellow card folder, he headed out from the printing room to place the freshly printed report on Celica's desk. Then with a transferring port, Lee submitting the digital copy to the Minstry of War.

He did a little calculation in his head before heading back to your quarters. Once the door slide open, Lee said, "Commandant, I have submitted the report to the Ministry of War. It would take, on average, 14 da-", he stopped mid sentences.

Still seated in your chair, you didn't response to Lee. You were leaning on your desk head resting on both of your arms. While Lee was away, you couldn't help but to fall asleep.

"... I told you so..." Lee mumbled with a sigh.

He slowly approach you and watched as you slumber. He had thought about the possibility that you would fake sleeping just to have him get off your back. Looking a how deep you slumber, he knew you were too tired to continue.

Whatever happened during the day, he will deal with it in the following morning. Once, you were awake.

With care, he brought his arms around your back and legs. Gently, with ease, he pick you up and slowly place you on your bed. He tucked you in with the utter most care making sure you were comfortable to get as much rest as possible.

Satisfied, Lee went over to turn off the lights and headed out of your quarters.

"See you later, Commandant," he whispered.

The walk through the corridors was quick. He had memorise the route from the your room to his, to optimise the fastest and most efficient way to reach to you if there is an emergency. Within a few minutes, Lee arrived back to his room. Still, dimly lit from the lamp on his desk.

The first thing he did was to read the time on his desk clock, 1:45am.

"... Four hours and fifth-teen minutes before dawn... That's a new record for [Y/N]," Lee said. Without a word, he sat down on his chair and picked up his screwdriver.

(C) Punishing-eden

[luv-x-liv]

highly procrastinated intro post that i keep forgetting to do, so here we go

⊹₊⟡⋆ name + prns: olivia/liv (but honestly i don't care what you call me) || she/her

⊹₊⟡⋆ pan/ace

⊹₊⟡⋆ dni for the obvious reasons (like, if you're racist or homophobic or some shit like that)

⊹₊⟡⋆ hobbies: reading, writing, listening to music, honestly that's it (i have literally no personality, i fear)

⊹₊⟡⋆ books i like: harry potter (aka marauders lol) (fuck jkr tho), pjo (+ entire riordanverse), maze runner, kotlc, tsitp, the inheritance games (i have yet to read the grandest game btw), agggtm (i've only read the first book though!), a bunch of others i can't remember

⊹₊⟡⋆ currently reading: the kill order (only 72 pages in 💀)

⊹₊⟡⋆ artists i like (in order of my spotify stats): taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, conan gray, lorde, beabadoobee, alec benjamin, gigi perez, tate mcrae, dua lipa, noah kahan, olivia rodrigo, chappell roan, charli xcx, gracie abrams, billie eilish, melanie martinez, renee rapp, maisie peters, mad tsai, lana del rey, lucy dacus, mitski, phoebe bridgers (my music taste is the epitome of basic, i fear)

⊹₊⟡⋆ currently listening to: boy in the bubble by alec benjamin

⊹₊⟡⋆ i also love hamilton and six the musical

⊹₊⟡⋆ random facts about me: i'm working on a book (15k words in 💪); i'm a black belt in taekwondo; i don't really code but i know a bit of javascript, html, and sql; if i were someone from the marauders era, i'd 100% be remus; i played tenor sax in school for a year; slytherin and child of apollo 🐍☀

that's it for now <3

[cherywrld]

------ '🍒 , BASICS

Stage name - Liv

Birth name - Olivia Kanehara

Meaning - The name Olivia is a Latin name meaning "olive" or "olive tree."

Japanese name - Yukari Kanehara {夢歌理 金原 [Japanese kanja] }

Meaning - 夢 (yu) meaning "dream" , 歌 (ka) meaning "song" and 理 (ri) meaning "reason, logic".

Nicknames - Livia, Via, , NiJi, Ori,

Date of birth - December 22, 1998

Zodiac - Capricorn / Tiger

Ethnicity - Korean

Nationality - Canadian

Languages - English (Native) ', Japanese (Native) ', Korean (Fluent) ', French (Fluent) ', Chinese (Fluent)

Representative Emoji - 🐱🎼

------ '🍒 , PHYSICAL

Face claim - Hirai Momo of twice

Height - 168 cm ❪ 5'6" ❫ 

Weight - 47 kg ❪ 103 lbs ❫

Peircings - 2x Standard Lobe ', 2x Helix

Tattoos - 1x collarbone ', 1x ribs ', 1x wrist

------ '🍒 , FAMILY

Mother - Osako Kanehara { 修子 金原 }

Father - Akinori Kanehara { 輝則 金原 }

Sibling - Alyssa Kanehara / Yomiko Kanehara { 代実子 金原 }

Pet - A white munchkin cat named Ciel

------ '🍒 , CAREER

Label - Bighit / Hybe Labels

Group - Cheryburn

Position - Main Rapper ', Sub Vocalist

Training period - February 2011 - September 2014 {3 years 7 months}

Debut date - 5th September 2014 (5/01/15)

Debut age - 15 years (International) , 16 years (Korean)

------ '🍒 , PERSONALITY

MBTI - INFJ

Negative - Materialistic ', People Pleaser ', May come off as mean ', Procrastinator ', Closed off ', Impulsive

Positive - Hardworking ', Ambitious ', Inclusive ', Loyal ', Honest ', Determined

Likes - Swimming ', Race cars ', Easy to make food and snacks ', Making lists ', Cold rooms ', Snow

Dislikes - Peas ', People who force their views and opinions on others ', Insects ', Scary movies ', Rollercoasters ', Alcohol

Habits - Rolls her eyes often ', Crosses her arms ', Pouts when concentrating ', Scratches her ears ', Makes beats with her hands or hums at random times ', Licks her lips

------ '🍒 , CLAIMS

Voice claim - Heejin (artms)

Dance claim - Ahn Yujin (IVE/ex-Iz*one)

Rap claim - Yezi (Soloist / ex-fiestar)

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Author Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @kingkendrick7 and @i-can-even-burn-salad! Yes I am procrastinating. Yes I have already had a breakdown on the third week of college and have had to hide the fix my problems bottle. Lets go Fucked at Five for this one.

I tag: @aether-wasteland-s @winterandwords @liv-is @outpost51 @dumbthunder @kaiusvnoir @leighvalentin @nanashi23 @the-void-writes (only if y'all want of course)

1) What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

Uhhh I don't really think I have one. Maybe in the future. (Probably not I'm more of an accidental theme person than lessons)

2) What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

Open Season (the movies)

RWBY

Gene editing (other genetics knowledge as well)

X-men

Lycanthropy (mostly werewolves but transforming animalistic creatures in general)

Really fucked history of nonconsensual human experimentation and exploitation

3) What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

My main character is just trying to live and figure shit out right now as their life has taken a full flip. I myself am using them as a vessel for myself and pushing my tough people are softies narrative.

4) How many chapters is your story going to have?

No clue. I usually never think like this. Me? Fully plan a story before I write it. Hilarious.

5) Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content. I guess up here on tumblr. Maybe Ao3.

6) When and why did you start writing?

I started writing in 5th or 6th grade. So 11 years old? I started writing as a way to figure shit out about life, about myself.

7) Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

Just because you're busy as hell/tired/burned out and haven't been putting words to the page. Or hate the words you've been putting to the page doesn't make you a bad writer. Life is a lot and being creative takes brain power. So so so many writeblrs XD. Just check out the taglist and even that ain't everybody. Love you writeblr homies and art homies too I see you.

[mecharose]

*through gritted teeth* i can draw stuff just for fun it doesn't have to be good

[oh-no-another-idea]

OC tweets game

So, @hd-literature tagged me to do this MONTHS ago, and I finally have the brain power to fill out a few! I have no idea how twitter even works, but I had a lot of fun goofing around. From my WIP The Invisible Girl:

Rules: make a few fake tweets for your OCs. Bonus points if there’s no social media in their world! 

Lol no pressure tags for anyone who wants to procrastinate writing by playing around, and also @sleepyowlwrites @sleepy-night-child @blind-the-winds @liv-is @late-to-the-fandom @talesofsorrowandofruin @zmwrites @winterandwords @lavender-laney​ @outpost51​ and @writingbyricochet​ <3

[watanabes-cum-dump]

My commandant OCs (noteworthy) relationship dynamics with PGR characters bc I’m bored

I’m actually just procrastinating, I’m not bored. Also his name is Qiu Jia but I think you know that if you follow me. I talk abt him too much.

Lucia - Sister Qiu is just chill with her like that. Like they can just be around each other and even thought it’s silent it’s not awkward. They just make each other feel at ease. Not much to say, but it’s like they can read each other’s minds. Well I guess they kinda can with the mind link? Yeah, overall they’re just comforting prescience’s to each other.

Liv - Little sister who can do no wrong Qiu is a bit protective of Liv, just because he knows how kind and timid people like her are sometimes mistreated. Especially after Survival Luceum, they’re glued at the hip. Liv also trusts him a lot, she’s his impulse control, while Qiu helps her to assert herself more. Liv is also very particular about his health, and she’s trying to help him with his nicotine addiction.

Lee - Annoying younger brother Yes they fight about who is older because “technically Lee has been alive longer but is stuck at eighteen” but Qiu will not hear any of it and he thinks of himself as the older brother. They absolutely will not stop insulting each other (while covering Liv’s ears ofc) and constantly take jabs at each other but issok it’s all in the name of love. Qiu takes the brunt of Lee’s insults because he finds it funny and usually just laughs them off. Lee regularly calls him a slut/whore though and it irks Qiu depending on his mood that day but he makes no point to stop it bc it is funny sometimes.

Nikola - Oh boy it’s complicated Nikola is Qiu’s dad but not really. Yes he never intended to hurt Qiu the way he did but Qiu still ended up as… Qiu so it is what it is. Would never admit it, but Qiu so desperately wants to call Nikola his father, he’s just hesitant due to everything Nikola has done. Likewise, Nikola would like to be able to call Qiu his son, and he’s always wanted the best for him but unfortunately he never asked Qiu what he wanted. Qiu stopped talking to him after he joined Kurono and they only made up around the time of Survival Luceum, but even then their relationship is still complicated.

Hassen - Cool uncle I have literally never seen Hassen and Nikola apart in the main story?? Are they Iike partners or smth they seem to know each other pretty well. Anyways that being said Qiu was around Hassen quite a bit growing up, and of course Hassen is super chill and good with kids so he doesn’t mind seeing his partner’s kids every once in a while. Watches Nikola and Qiu’s relationship fall apart from the outside and is quite concerned about it. But overall, Hassen calls Qiu “kid” and is very casual with him when he’s not on missions.

Roland - it’s complicated romance edition Yes Qiu and Roland have tried to kill each other numerous times but neither of them really care??? Qiu still thinks Roland is pretty hot and they have some cute enemies to lovers tension. Roland is kind of flirty with him, because that riles Qiu up when they fight. They’re both super fucked up and are aware of it but it is what it is and they violently want to fuck. They’re actually kin of obnoxious together I’m not gonna lie, if they were an actual couple they would be so annoying, constantly touching and flirting with each other. They give Lee the ick. I would go deeper into their complicated relationship and feelings towards each other but that deserves it’s own post they are both so *squeezes them*

Wanshi - Nap buddies Qiu is also perpetually sleepy and often sleeps to avoid his problems (just like me) so it stands that they’re buddies. Thing is, Qiu’s sleep schedule is so fucked up that he gets like three hours of sleep and random naps throughout the day. Wanshi who is you know, also a doctor finds this mildly concerning but helps him take it one step at a time by at least helping him nap properly. They’re both pretty chill with like touching and lying on each other so it’s not uncommon to find them both sleeping in a literal pile on Strike Hawk’s couch or something.

Camu - “You’re not my commandant” Camu gets Qiu’s bad vibes in spades they fucking hate each other. Camu resents Qiu for “replacing” Ash (former commandant of GR) who helped Camu a lot. Likewise, Qiu doesn’t like him because he’s not exactly subtle about it. Also, given Qiu’s back ground in Kurono Camu hates him even more. Camu just brings back up Qiu’s inferiority complex and feelings of being an inadequate replacement and it makes them avoid each other a lot. Honestly, they’re both kinda volatile so they get under each other’s skin.

Anyways that’s that I’m melting in this heat and I will be thinking of my silly little train wreck of a SKK OC *evaporates*

[rughydrangea]

I guess it's true you can't change who you are! I am stressed about this conference paper, it's on a totally new topic that I've not written on before, and for a number of reasons I feel like I'm on shaky ground writing about it (contemporary plays that have no complete recorded performances and no released scripts that I've been able to find, oh and I didn't even see one of them!), and the presentation's on Friday, and I really need to be mostly done by Wednesday because I'm spending Thursday flying out to Vegas (which is where the conference is, it's not just because I felt like it!).

So I have a deadline, and I'm nervous, and for the first time in years I engaged in some real binge-procrastination. Last night, I stayed up until 1 am skipping through Jealousy Incarnate (I really do love the centrality of the breast cancer storyline, and it always makes me think of when Ryan got breast cancer on Oz, maybe the only point of commonality between Oz and k-dramas!), with a brief detour to Coffee Prince (the Sejak gender reveal made me want to revisit Han Gyeol losing his shit at Eun Chan, an absolutely gutting and brutal scene that I adore), and today I went through selected greatest hits of Aaron and Robert on Emmerdale. God when they were good they were good. Is anything better than Robert tearfully confessing to Andy that he killed Katie, only to turn around and lie his ass off to the police, telling them that Andy turned him in because he's suicidal and homophobic, and then getting everyone else to help him gaslight Andy? Like, what a legend. What a man. I do like him eventually becoming totally devoted to Aaron (and Liv! the Robert/Liv relationship was so important to me), but villain!Robert will always be my favorite. I did skip through the early 2016 stuff to get to Adam finding out that Aaron and Robert are together and responding "Nice one, lads!" because that cracks me up, and then I dropped in on 2017 to watch Aaron throw a wrench at Robert's head (Ross seeing it and going "I've been looking for that wrench!" is very funny to me). The 2017 storylines are a mess (I love Robert going back to villain mode, Aaron being in jail is very stupid, and although I strongly agree with Chrissie that cheating is in Robert's blood, the way it shook out felt very biphobic--dear soaps, I challenge you to have a bi person tank a same-sex relationship without cheating with an opposite-sex partner!), but the pure melodrama of that wrench-throwing just gets to me.

This was all fun in its way but I'm kind of annoyed to find that this is still how I cope with stress.

[rollingsins]

Hi darling! I missed you. I hope you're doing well and had a lovely summer!

Awww, a high R! Gushing over Tara and complimenting Sam is so adorable AND relatable. I, too, would absolutely flirt with both of them. Even when I'm not high...

Eh, we don't need Rs dad. He's unnecessary. Though sometimes a tiny bit hilarious...

OMG THE QUEEN NURSE DAWSON IS BACK!! LET THE FUN BEGIN

Lol a resentful and grumpy Nurse Dawson. That's so amusing! She's just so tired of Tara

Lol Tara's superpower is definitely being a huge menace to everyone around her and everyone that even looks at R.

Aw damn, Dad accepted Tara!! I never knew he would do that. That's growth! We love to see it.

😂 poor Tara will always hear about her height. She's so offended but when it comes to R and being close to her she accepts her being a small yapping chihuahua. Love how much of a simp she is.

LIV! I love her. She's awesome, so entertaining and a perfect comedic relief. Great friend.

HA MINDY!!! GUESS WHAT, I GUESSED IT. I AM BETTER THAN THE HORROR MOVIE EXPERT

Yes Chad, drag her! MY PowerPoint proved to be correct. SUCK IT, MINDY (I'll never get over this by the way)

Tara!! Just leave Sam alone! Your tiny ass can't carry R alone so shut it and be appreciative.

OMFG!! Tara did NOT just ask a hurt and in pain R if she can go down on her!! Jesus, that girl is really never satisfied. How can one tiny person be so horny 😭

This chapter was great!! I loved that we got some nice fluff and hilarious conversations. If that comes out of you procrastinating then please go ahead and do it again.

Hi baby boo, missed you too 😘

Tara 🤝🏼 R’s dad: being overbearing and protective

She’s a tiny, horny little goblin 😭

[jawllines]

liv, you wonderful, lovely ray of sunshine. I just stumbled across some of my old writing and i think i would like to pursue it again bc procrastination is a thing. Would you do me the absolute honour of looking over the beginning of my story? If not, i completely understand. Love you, take a kissy 😚

SURE!! LOVE U KISSY RECEIVED AND RECIPROCATED