#reminder that my weekend includes monday!

[thefreakandthehair]

wip weekend ⚓️🦇

Rules:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post.

This Weekend's WIPs:

football AU

@steddiesmuttyseptember fic (to be named)

second half of and icarus' life, it has only just begun (I realized it's been almost a year and I simply cannot let it go a whole year without posting that second half)

Snippet:

“How’d you even end up in the NFL? I mean, no offense but you don’t really fit the… stereotype.” Steve’s eyes track from his ripped jeans to the serpent tattoo he knows pokes out beneath the collar of his tee shirt. If he didn't know any better... no, definitely not. “I still don’t even fuckin’ know,” Eddie shrugs and leans back into the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Unlike you, Mr. The Ohio State, I went to a shit division three school and got a degree in music for the fun of it. Why do you wanna know?” Steve eyes Eddie’s feet on the table and raises an eyebrow but Eddie doesn’t move. It’s not like the video room is Steve’s house or something. “Because according to Hopper, I have to not actively hate you so I’m trying to get to know you like a normal human being. Can you stop making this so difficult?” Eddie smirks and turns his head so he faces Steve, ear pressed into the soft leather of his chair. “Ah okay, so it’s like a date— get to know you conversation. I can do that real well.” Steve snorts. “Really?” “Nope,” Eddie admits and tosses a few chips in his mouth. “Got me there. But I can do interviews like a son of a bitch so bring on the questions. Lay ‘em on me, Captain.”

no pressure tags: @cuoredimuschio @steveseddie @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wynnyfryd

@augustjustice @imfinereallyy @starryeyedjanai @fastcardotmp3 @hbyrde36

@hotluncheddie @sidekick-hero @kkpwnall @fragilecapric0rnn @judasofsuburbia

@formosusiniquis @stevespookington @penny00dreadful @cuips-not-cute @steddieasitgoes + anyone else who wants to jump in; it's always an open invite!

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (04) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow��slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii I'm getting slower with editing and writing so please bear with me moving forward! Also pls remember, this is a slow burn haha. But anyway, been loving your replies (I see you) and messages, thank you. I hope you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The events of last weekend remain in your mind, as you approach Jungkook’s apartment the next Monday and feel like your heart will leap out of your chest. 

You remind yourself that he wasn’t angry at you; he’d even tried to apologize and didn’t make a fuss when you left the restaurant last Saturday. But still, the whole incident would make anyone feel agitated, and you know his capacity to feel and express that. He was inconvenienced and put on the spot, after all. 

You enter, and shortly after, Jungkook exits the gym then greets you with a nod when he sees you. He looks more tired than anything. He doesn’t have a hint of frustration in his eyes, and you could only hope that he’d forgotten about what happened or, like how he is when it comes to personal matters, he’d chosen not to acknowledge it. 

You bow in return, sneaking a glance as he walks towards his bedroom, with your throat drying up when he removes his shirt, briefly gracing you with a view of his glistening toned back right before disappearing inside. You wait half a minute before you follow him to prepare his clothes, giving yourself time to breathe before you have to face him again. You return to the kitchen and prepare his breakfast, looking up when you hear him walk in.

You approach him to do an act that’s become a routine for you, and for him as well, as he stands straight and unmoving while you tighten his tie and make sure he looks fine. Even when your fingers only graze his clothed chest, the memory from last Saturday becomes vivid, as you recall wiping his wine-soaked top, feeling the taut body underneath. 

You shake your head at the thought, realizing that there are more things about that night that you should not acknowledge at all, including the heat you felt at seeing him in the washroom, a little exposed and definitely sweaty. There was that tension and the dropping of formalities that felt too foreign and quite disorienting. You don’t know him as anything other than the ‘Mr. Jeon’ you assist; seeing him as just ‘Jungkook’ was different. But you suppose that that’s the man you help everyday, and you wonder how much of himself he leaves behind in the office and how much of him now is just… him. 

As you go about your routine during breakfast, you’re reminded that for Jungkook, there doesn’t seem to be a difference. How he is at work is the same as how he is elsewhere - serious, quiet, and detached. Except maybe when he’s with those women he meets at clubs, though. Perhaps the thrill and pleasure inject a bit of emotion and passion in him. You wouldn’t know, but at least it’s a way for him to take a break from the responsibilities he carries. 

You scold yourself internally again. You’re not supposed to be curious; you’re not supposed to care. So you shake all of them away and remind yourself of who you are and your own distance that you should observe.

You get to your senses and proceed accordingly. You go about as usual in the morning with his meetings, and then he shuts his office so he could focus in the afternoon. You see his furrowed brows from the window, as he works on what seems to be the Arts Center again, given his requests for financial and marketing reports of the company's non-residential projects from the last five years.  

You’re busy with organizing his Singapore trip and coordinating with the CEO’s office about the upcoming Appointment Dinner to formally introduce the new appointees, when he exits his room and looks through the folders lined on the shelf behind you.

“Where are the portfolios of our collaboration projects from 2017?” He asks. 

“They’re in the archive room,” you answer, standing up to head there. 

But he does it first, beating you to the corner area just off the hallway to the left. Your steps are obviously not at pace with his, and he’s tiptoeing to reach for a large folder by the time you get there. He’s able to retrieve it, laying it on the ledge as he goes through some pages. 

“I could’ve gotten that,” you say softly, and Jungkook turns to you and wishes he hadn’t, as your pout makes his insides melt. 

There’s something about your disappointment that you didn’t get to help him that makes his heart race a little, and while he knows it has everything to do with you thinking that he’d think you’re not doing your job properly, he still likes to keep the thought that you’d wanted to help him in the first place.

“It was heavy,” he explains. 

“I’ve carried and pulled and pushed things way heavier than that folder,” you scoff. 

“Really?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, trying not to show amusement on his face. “My cousin let you do all those things, huh?”

You frown at his attempt to catch you slipping. “I do many things in the background during events, Mr. Jeon, things that get everything functioning properly while Mr. Jung engages with the guests.”

Jungkook can only imagine how much work you put into getting those events hosted by the VP’s office running. Perhaps retrieving heavy folders is no big deal for you. But still, he doesn’t want to come across as a jerk for making you do something he can do on his own. He already was, he reminds himself, and you also definitely think he is;  he doesn’t want to add to that any more, not after everything that’s happened. 

So he just nods. “It’s a simple task I can do.”

Jungkook looks at the labeled boxes and folders. He’s got materials and design points to finalize by tonight. There are some more past projects he wants to go through to take inspiration from, and he finds another one he wants to look at, underestimating its weight, which is why he jerks in surprise when he feels how heavy it really is.

You’re there on cue, as if you knew it was gonna be too much. And if he’d asked you, you probably would’ve told him so. 

You’re standing much closer to him, your fingers grazing against his as you hold onto the folder. It’s almost familiar, only because you stood this close to him that night at the restaurant, too - when you cleaned him up, and then when you handed him his clothes in the washroom. You actually stand this close to him everyday when you fix his tie. Perhaps after all that, it’s only dawning on you just how little space between you two there are sometimes, and you’re suddenly hyper aware - of the distance, of his scent, of the way he’s looking back at you when you turn to look at him. 

“It was heavy,” he admits. 

And for some reason, you laugh. Maybe it’s the slightly embarrassed look on his face or it’s just your defense mechanism when you feel tense but you let out an amused sound, with it fading as the time goes by and you realize you’re actually laughing at your boss. 

“Making fun of me, Ms. Cho?”

“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you stammer, stepping away. 

You’re about to mentally curse yourself until you see his slight smirk, and the thought of him making fun at you by scaring you like that makes you feel better. He may have some sense of humor after all. 

Still, you bow in apology, and there’s a moment when you meet his eyes, with something not anger or frustration in them, that you both linger, as if there are things both of you feel that need to be said; you just don’t know what they are.

“Did the dry cleaners get to remove the wine stains?” You manage to get some words out, turning away now as you bring up last Saturday night. 

“Uh, yeah,” he responds. There’s a pause before he continues. “Did… did you get home okay?”

You’re too stunned to be able to answer right away but you eventually do. “Uh, yeah. Jimin, Soomin, and I just bought food and then went to my apartment. And you?”

“I did,” he nods.

“Did… did Hajoon bother you again after we left?”

“No. Well, he just kept giving me the death stare but he didn’t do anything else,” he says. 

“I really don’t know what got him so worked up,” you sigh, feeling bolder at having to share this much. “He’s not usually confrontational and he knows I hate it. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“People have their reasons for getting angry. They’re not always valid, though, and definitely not always warranted,” Jungkook replies, briefly looking away. “Whatever it is, at least he didn’t throw a punch.”

“Oh, if he did, that is it for me,” you chuckle, feeling unfamiliar with being able to talk to Jungkook so casually like this. “Goodbye, job; goodbye, Seoul. I will probably just work as a librarian somewhere.”

Jungkook wants to say he wouldn’t accept your resignation for that reason, that he doesn’t want you to go anywhere, actually. But that’s too much and probably inappropriate to say given the circumstances. So he just hums and turns back to the folder and looks through them. 

“I’ll need these back in my room,” he says, carrying one while you take the other. 

You appreciate the topic change, knowing you won’t know how to handle more if the conversation deepens. You both walk back quietly, as it dawns on you that the casual nature you both talked to each other is a little disorienting. 

You’re not used to him sounding concerned.

He’s not used to you being honest and open. 

Perhaps seeing a different side of him isn’t all that bad, you think. 

Jungkook wants to believe it’s your way of forgiving him, too, even if he hasn’t actually apologized for anything. 

The minute it takes to return to your respective desks ends, and Jungkook is back to focusing on his designs while you get back to making reservations. You peek inside his room every once in a while to check if he’s okay, if there’s anything else he needs, if there’s anything you can do for him. 

The frustrated look on his face isn’t new, but the fact that it isn’t directed at you, is. So is the worried feeling you have for him. You’re a mix of emotions from everything that’s happened this past month, so you can’t deny that the way he’s been acting towards you has left you confused, maybe even doubtful. You have to be cautious, you think, and not fall into a comfortable dynamic with him so easily. 

The next day, he’s back to being serious once again, as you sit to his right in the restaurant that will be catering the upcoming VP event. Jungkook decided for both of you to have the food tasting for lunch, and so a spread has been prepared for him to make the final decision on the menu. 

You’d like to think that you’ve developed quite a sophisticated palate, all thanks to the numerous events that Hoseok asked you to organize in your three years working under him. With this upcoming dinner party a sort of introduction of Jungkook and the project to the art world, he wants to make sure that he serves only the best to the guests, which is why he carefully tastes each dish, trying to determine the best combination that’s both delicious and creative. 

You give your comments, some of which he acknowledges, and you feel like you’re both making headway in terms of the menu, as well as with his disposition for the day, given that he’s looking more comfortable and relaxed than he was half an hour ago.

That is, until he sips his wine for the first time, and clears his throat.

“I believe I specifically said that lunch today is a work matter, Ms. Cho,” he says sternly. “You’re on the clock and this isn’t a break.”

“Y—yes, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, curious as to the reason for his statement.

“Then why is your boyfriend waiting outside the restaurant, trying to catch your attention?”

“What?” You exclaim, turning around and spotting Hajoon standing by the lamppost, his sullen eyes getting a bit of light in them once they meet yours. “I… I don’t know,” you respond. “I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday.”

“How did he know you’re here, then?”

“His restaurant is just up the street,” you sigh. “He must’ve seen me when he was walking there. This area is his usual route. Please just ignore him.”

“I can’t when he’s in my peripheral vision. He’s still the man who got in my face the other night. He clearly wants to speak to you and I don’t think he’ll go away,” Jungkook reasons. 

You look at him, waiting for his instructions. 

Jungkook doesn’t like that Hajoon is there and he also doesn’t want you to speak with him during work hours, especially if it’s going to affect you for the rest of the day. But the man seems desperate and persistent; he really doesn’t seem like he’ll just let this moment of seeing you pass.

“You have five minutes,” Jungkook says. 

You don’t exactly want to go out there; there’s a reason why you haven’t returned Hajoon’s texts or calls these past days. But you can imagine that it’s a worse look for him to be staying around; a distraction during this work matter that you know Jungkook would not appreciate one bit. So you stand up and tell him that you’ll be back shortly.

Jungkook returns to the dish in front of him, noting that the Japanese mushroom risotto is a good addition to the set menu. The event his office is planning includes a sit down dinner and then an offering of canapés and champagne while guests walk around the venue to see the presentation of the Arts Center in large boards and on screens. It will be a good way for him to socialize - something he’s incredibly nervous about because it’s not his strongest suit, nor is it something he enjoys, unlike his cousin. The primary goal, though, is to introduce the project. Jungkook needs important people on board so they can be involved in the launch and the succeeding special activities.

He tries to think about that night and how he wants to design the place. He tries to think of other things, too, like the music and decor, even if he’d said that’s for both of you to plan next week. He’s even thinking of a follow up already, even if his management support team is in charge of that and would be dependent on how this first one is gonna go. 

Jungkook tries to think of anything, really, just so he won’t constantly be glancing at you in his periphery, as you talk to the man from the other night and possibly make up. You did leave him at the restaurant last Saturday; you also did clarify that you’re not together. You just said you haven’t spoken since then, so it’s safe to say that both of you aren’t in good terms. 

Jungkook can only assume, though. He doesn’t know the story, nor would he ever; he reminds himself he shouldn’t be thinking about it in the first place. He was never one to be privy to his staff’s personal lives; he spent most of his time with Lucas but didn’t know more than his family's composition. Jungkook doesn’t even recall knowing if Lucas had a partner, or if his then-assistant even mentioned it. 

But clearly, Hoseok knows more about you than Jungkook would’ve expected. Perhaps it’s just how his cousin is, or maybe the time spent together just created that environment where it’s natural or normal. Maybe it’s the culture that his father encouraged; his old man is quite close with Mr. Ri - his former chauffeur and bodyguard - and Mrs. Myung - his executive assistant, after all. 

But it’s not what Jungkook is used to; it’s not how he spent his few years in the Singapore office because like always, all he did was work and party. His mentor in graduate school also advised him that professional lines are ones he shouldn’t cross. Though Jungkook never really knew what exactly those were, he just dared not get close to anyone or be remotely interested at all, and that never caused him any problem. He’s always been safe where he was, guarded and unbothered.

But ever since you walked through those doors at Hoseok’s office that first Friday, Jungkook has been finding himself skirting near the boundaries far too often, and it’s only been a month. It began with making sure you’re eating well and that you’re safe on the way to work; he convinces himself that’s human decency, although he never really bothered much before. 

And between wanting you to get proper rest before your trip to your hometown, to seeing you with that man from last weekend and being so bothered by it that it caused a scene, Jungkook’s internal alarm bells are ringing, telling him that he’s getting too interested, too close. It doesn’t help that he finds you attractive, something he doesn’t have control over. What he does have a say in is how he responds to it, and that has been incredibly tough, especially given the weekend he’s had. 

He’d spent the rest of it trying to keep his mind off you - the way you looked in that outfit, the way your touch sent shivers down his spine, the way you’d looked at him worriedly… And when you walked out of that restaurant, he wondered what you were thinking, how you were feeling, how you’d be spending the rest of the night, and if you were gonna be home okay. He hasn’t really stopped since.

Even now, as he stays in his seat and tightly grips his glass of wine at the scene unfolding outside. 

You’re standing with your arms crossed - setting the boundaries, and perhaps signaling your detachment, though he can’t see your face. The man, on the other hand, seems emotional, the tinge of sadness evident on his face. But there’s a mix of frustration and anger, too, as his arms flail around. He points at you, then at himself. His voice seems raised; Jungkook swears he can see the veins from the man’s neck popping out while you… you’ve got your head turned to the side, your body not eliciting much of the emotion the way the man’s is. 

Jungkook stops himself from making an excuse for you to come back inside, just so he can pull you away from a conversation that you don’t seem to be wanting to have. But he knows it’s not his place, and the man might make a scene again if Jungkook decides to step in. You know how to stand up for yourself; you’d done it to him, he reminds himself. You’ll do what you need to do, whatever it is.

The man heaves, as whatever monologue he was giving ends. He reaches out to you, perhaps making a final plea, but you step back, widening the distance. It’s what prompts him to bow his head and turn around, leaving you by the lamppost on your own. 

Jungkook sighs in relief now and he waits for you to return, but he’s surprised when you stay rooted in your spot, your arms wrapping around yourself despite the heat outside. He worries when you enter, your head bowed down and unable to look at him. 

He wants to ask how you are, but he’s unsure if he’s ready for your answer, knowing that there isn’t much he can do anyway. So he goes with what he knows - detachment. 

“I’ve chosen the last two dishes,” he says. “They’re serving the desserts soon.”

You turn to him immediately, your misty eyes painted with worry meeting his own.

“I didn’t think I was away that long,” you state, worried about the time you left your boss waiting while dealing with a personal matter that for the first time made you wish you were stuck with Jungkook instead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon.”

He didn’t expect you to look so upset. He’s terrible at comforting people, but even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t know if he’d manage to comfort you. So he just shrugs and says that they were straightforward dishes. 

You both try the desserts then the canapés, exchanging thoughts about all the options before shortlisting your chosen dishes. By the time the food tasting is over, you’re stuffed and set for the rest of the day. 

You try not to look at Jungkook. You don’t know if he’d seen how your conversation went with Hajoon, but if he had, he could probably tell what was going on even if he couldn’t hear anything. 

He’s had his moments, but you’ve never seen Hajoon look that upset and emotional, and you stood there, afraid to face all his feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, all those words that you didn’t know how to take. You’re usually one who’s able to let negative things said to you just go over your head, but something about what he’d said today hit you; you know it’ll take you until tomorrow to get over them.

But you try to get through the rest of the day the way you usually do - going through reports, organizing schedules, finalizing tomorrow’s presentation, and then working on the revised interdepartmental guidelines that Jungkook tasked you to do. 

There are draft letters you send to him, thinking that you’ll work on some administrative matters while he reviews them, but you’re surprised when he calls for you 10 minutes later, saying the letters are approved and you can send them in the morning. You’re left wondering, given that anything you submit to him usually goes through intense scrutiny. Perhaps you’re not used to this easy pass, but you try not to overthink it, given the day you’ve had.

“You can go home, Ms. Cho,” he says as he types away. 

It’s 5:30 PM. Usually this time, he’s still handing you things to review or instructing you on what else to do. 

He seems to pick up on your silence, as without looking at you, he clarifies. “I don’t need you to do things you can do tomorrow. We’ll have meetings all day so I understand if you want to stay behind but you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t seem like he’ll be finishing soon, and you’re really not in the best mood so you nod and bid him goodbye.

The conversation with Hajoon stays in your mind all night and lasts until the next day. You’re in Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning, preparing his breakfast while he takes a shower. 

With your phone snug under your neck, you relay to Soomin what happened yesterday. She was too busy last night for a call and she’s been bugging you since you got in the car - that you continue to ride as per your boss’ instructions - so you finally picked up, knowing how long it usually takes for Jungkook to finish.

“It started with him apologizing, then wondering why I haven’t been picking up his calls, then justifying his actions from last Saturday as him, standing up for me,” you narrate. “Obviously, I didn’t take those too kindly.  But he said he wanted to be with me, like, have an actual relationship. And I said I didn’t want to then he just… he kinda just said everything he’s been keeping in.”

“Which is what?” Soomin asks.

“That I’m selfish, that I don’t think about what my actions may mean to others, which is silly since I was clear from the start about what I wanted from him,” you sigh. “He said that I act independent but that’s just a front, that deep down I’m a lonely woman who’ll probably push away every person who’s shown me they care until I have no one left and that’s why I’ll be alone forever, which he says is a deep fear that I have because I apparently told him that when I was drunk. And even after all that, he said he still cares about me, that he wants to try to be something for real this time, that if I just let him, he’ll love me right and make me happy and I just backed away, like, why would you—”

The clearing of the throat cuts you off, and you nearly drop the expensive plate due to panic once you look up and see Jungkook standing by the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry for taking a personal call, Mr. Jeon,” you say immediately, putting away your phone. “It won’t happen again.”

You bow your head down in apology, which is why you don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes soften as he looks at you. Words like that hurt, and he can’t imagine what it must’ve felt like for you hearing them. Still, you went about yesterday with your accomplished tasks and completed deliverables like it didn’t happen, displaying a kind of strength that he could only hope to have.

“Yesterday was a tough, I suppose,” he states, choosing to ignore your apology. 

“It was a normal one,” you brush off, walking towards him to fix his tie, not meeting his gaze. 

Jungkook doesn’t reply, knowing you don’t want to acknowledge that he’d overheard your conversation, which he didn’t mean to walk in on. It did bother him, too; he suddenly wishes he’d fought back if that man was just going to speak to you that way. 

There’s a sadness in your eyes that he tries not to mind and which you try to trivialize. Perhaps the man matters that much to you for you to be feeling this bad; Jungkook doesn’t really know what to do with that thought. So he tries to brush it off, too, telling you instead to be ready for today’s meeting with his father. 

You ask if he’s checked the presentation you worked on, as you added things from the last time. He nods and says he only added minimal details that he came up with last night, and you check to find that he indeed just made minute changes, another thing that you’re thankful for yet wary of, especially given how critical he was about your work in the beginning. 

You continue with your morning routine of debriefing about yesterday’s meetings, then you finalize the Arts Center event’s menu in the car. When you arrive at the office, you wait patiently as he goes through some reports that you’ve checked, then he reviews some memos that he asked you to work on. 

The last one finishes faster than you expected. It seems now that his comments are what you look for, only because it reminds you that he hasn’t changed; somehow that seems like a better thought to have than him suddenly being lenient or lowering his standards for you for some unknown reason. He’s definitely witnessed some of your low moments; you don’t want to think those have anything to do with how he’s been lately.

The meeting with the management support team ends before lunch time, and you work on the minutes and the other things Jungkook had asked of you during the time that he meets with Yoongi in his office. That takes another half hour, and by the time they’re done, you’re done with your tasks, too, so you send those documents to Jungkook for checking in the afternoon.

Another one off the list, you think to yourself. At this point, you’re just going over all your deliverables with a focused mindset and waiting for the day’s end so you can spend time for yourself, just on the couch watching variety shows and movies until the weekend comes when you can do that for longer hours. 

Having your friends over or traveling to Daegu are the only other things you look forward to. You used to look forward to spending the night at Hajoon’s, too; you could at least feel something pleasurable - the closest you could get to any form of intimacy that didn’t require you to bare yourself other than your body. But that’s a thing of the past now - there’s that amazing life-changing toy that Soomin got you last Sunday that’s got you thinking that you’ll be fine being alone for the rest of your life.

“Long day, huh?” 

You look up and see Yoongi, his curious eyes scanning your desk full of papers, folders, and half-eaten biscuits.   

“It has been,” you sigh.

“I see. It’s also only just 12 noon,” he points out.

“What a shocking revelation, Min Yoongi,” you grunt. “I don’t need to be reminded that I have another six hours here.”

“Hmm, just like me. So, what are you looking forward to when you clock out?”

“My leftover stir-fry for dinner that I’m going to add beef to,” you respond. “And The Zone. I missed it last Monday.”

“You and your variety shows,” he chuckles.

“What other reason do I have to laugh, hmm?”

“I’d say me, but you don’t find me funny.”

“You aren’t, sorry,” you smile, your first of the day, and Yoongi smiles back, knowing you haven’t been doing it the past few weeks.

“So–”

“Ms. Cho,” Jungkook’s voice cuts Yoongi off, as your boss stands by his open door with curious eyes that flit from you to the man in front of you. He recovers though, as he instructs, “the minutes are fine. Send it to the team now so they can work on their tasks.”

“You’ve read it?” You speak too soon, realizing a second too late that the words didn’t stay in your head. Your widened eyes don’t help you though, as Jungkook scowls at you.

“Are you asking me if I’ve read the file that I just approved and instructed you to disseminate?”

Yoongi purses his lips to hold off a laugh, and you glare at him because his teasing isn’t really what you need right now. 

“I meant, uh, you’ve reviewed it already, sir? I… thought… you were going to prepare for the lunch meeting instead,” you reason, which isn’t even a lie. 

“I have. Father hasn’t called me up so I just reviewed the minutes while waiting.”

You look at the file and see that nothing has been added. “And? That’s it?”

“Ms. Cho, are you questioning my ability to review?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he starts to look displeased, although they seem harmless compared to his frustrated expressions from the past. 

“No, Mr. Jeon, I apologize,” you say. “I was wondering if you didn’t have anything more to add, that’s all.”

“There’s none,” he clarifies. “Just send it to the team and uh… get ready for the meeting.”

He glances at Yoongi before closing the door.

“Questioning your boss’ ability to review now, huh?” Yoongi teases.

“Shut up. He’s just been weird,” you pout.

“That’s new. How so?”

“He hasn’t been an asshole for a few days.”

“Well, that’s quite the standard but I get you, I guess,” Yoongi hums. “In what way has he been out of character?”

“He just… hasn’t been pointing things out and correcting my submissions or asking a lot of questions about the reports I review,” you say. “Or just… you know, he hasn’t been him. He makes Mr. Ri pick me up every morning, he doesn’t email on the weekend, I get to leave on time, I get to eat properly…”

“In short, he’s been a decent boss recently?”

“I guess… I mean, it’s been two weeks since my mishap. He’s been quite tolerable these past few days. Maybe he hit his head and some loose screws tightened. Maybe he had a bad dream and the ghost of the future me visited him. Maybe he had a change of heart… though that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he–”

“Realized he hasn’t been good to you and doesn’t want you to go through the horror of another Mrs. Byun,” Yoongi interjects. 

Your curious eyes prompt him to continue. “We had a meeting the other day and I saw a folder on his desk with her name on it. Formal complaints are only available in physical copies; other personnel files are stored in the server, so the only documents he’d have of her are the ones of her investigation. And he’d only be interested in that because of you. Those include your written statements.”

“As do you yours,” you point out.

“Yes, he’d totally be interested in how his design lead witnessed a manager’s abuse of power three years ago,” Yoongi sarcastically says.

You sigh to yourself. You’ve never told Jungkook about your experience with Mrs. Byun, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok or even Yoongi has mentioned it to him. It’s an experience you don’t like to think about; you were a young woman who had everything to prove, who had a lot to lose, and conceding to someone taking advantage of you seemed like the only way to survive. Not once did you put your foot down, and not once did you stand up for yourself. You experienced all those then went home to an empty house and found comfort in your own warmth and your own breathing. 

You don’t want that experience to determine how others would treat you after. Hoseok was all things gentle and warm and you know that whatever you went through wouldn’t have determined how he treated you. 

But Jungkook… Jungkook is different. This isn’t his default state. This isn’t how he normally is. This isn’t how you started. The last thing you want is for him to feel pity for all that you went through - in the past and recently - and then treat you differently because of it. He’s been less critical, less judgmental, and less doubtful of your capabilities. You only wish it isn’t for anything that he’d read or seen you experience. 

“I doubt it,” you shake your head. “A man that perpetually displeased doesn’t just decide one day that he’d give the bare minimum of decency to his assistant.”

“Look, ___. Jungkook is a lot of things. He has a lot of feelings that he doesn’t want to deal with, and a lot of emotions he doesn’t know how to express,” Yoongi tries to explain. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if I didn’t believe there’s an ounce of goodness in him. And there is. Maybe him showing it just isn't good timing. He’s terrible at that, too. In fact, he’s terrible at a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. It doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of kindness.”

“Kindness,” you huff. That’s quite a reach, but Yoongi’s always been a good judge of character. You do want to believe what he says about Jungkook; it’s just not an easy switch to flip. “I’m just trying not to care much at this point,” you sigh. “I come to work, focus on my tasks, do whatever I’m asked, go back home, rinse and repeat.”

“Is it satisfying, though?” 

“When was work ever satisfying, Yoongi?” You laugh bitterly. 

“Well, I could at least recall seeing you enjoy organizing those events for Hoseok and even joining him in some,” Yoongi points out. “I… I saw you smile a lot. There was a bit of satisfaction there, yeah?”

“Somehow, I guess. But I just had to make do. Hoseok was great, but this is also my job, really the only thing going for me.”

“What are you working towards, then?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe at 30 I should know but I really don’t.”

“Then why are you still here?” He asks, softly, desperately. “Why do you stay?”

“And find out who I am outside of all this?” You wonder out loud. “What if I don’t like her? What if she isn’t good?”

“Then this place hasn’t been good for you if you doubt who you are outside of what you’ve done here,” Yoongi says. “You’re just 30; there’s a whole world out there where you can learn who you are and be someone you actually like. I don’t know what’s stopping you.”

A lot of things, you think to yourself. But when you find comfort in discomfort, when you find security in chaos, and when you find companionship in loneliness, it’s not that easy to leave all this behind, even if deep down, you know it’s what you have to do.

“I don’t know, too,” you lie. “Maybe I’ll find a good enough reason one day and that would be it; I’ll be out of here and then I can find out if I like myself outside of everything I know.”

“I think you would.”

I did, Yoongi thinks to himself. He knows you’d laugh and agree; he’s moved on from you and things can’t be any better than how your friendship is right now, but he also knows you’re not the best at feelings, a similarity he realizes you have with the person you supposedly dislike. 

“I won’t know until then, I guess. So I just gotta bear with who I am now,” you say.

There’s so much of you that Yoongi doesn’t know. It’s why he wanted to, why he asked you out for coffee and why he felt a bit of a heartbreak when you turned him down. But there are parts of you that he does know, that you let him see, and sometimes he finds himself wishing you’d find someone you’d feel safe enough with to share everything else you keep to yourself. 

He keeps these things to himself, too. He’s learned that the only way to keep you close is to keep his distance; you’ll reach out if you need to, even if it’s something you rarely do. But what’s important is that he’ll be there just in case; what matters is you know that there’s a hand available when you need it. 

So he just nods and takes your word for it. You’ll find yourself somehow, in whatever way you will. And you’ll find a reason to leave, whenever that is. He could only hope it’s a decision you’d make on your own, one that you won’t regret, and one that’ll lead you to find whatever it is that you’re looking for.

“So what, they want to put a stop to the Arts Center? They’re not the ones working hard for it. And quite frankly, I don’t need their help in any way to make it happen.”

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, anger manifesting in the way he clenches his jaw and groans repeatedly. It’s a sight you’re familiar with by now, and for the first time, you feel for him. It feels as if with this project, he doesn’t seem to have anyone on his side, aside from Hoseok, who’s been encouraging and helpful in many ways. 

“They don’t want to stop it, son,” CEO Jeon says. “They’re merely questioning some of your decisions about the prices you’ve set out.”

“In short, they’re undermining me,” Jungkook groans. “This is my project. We’ve done the necessary research. If they read the report, they’d know. But clearly, they just want reasons to doubt all this, to doubt me.”

“It’s just the first project of its kind,” his father reasons. “The arts institution from 2017 was a collaboration and it wasn’t this big. The Arts Center just isn’t the usual commercial establishment that the VP office undertakes. The Board just wants to be clear about the profits because it’s not as straightforward as the others. They want to know how the property will earn.”

“Exhibition entrance tickets, bookings, rent,” Jungkook replies. “What’s not straightforward about that? Might as well say they don’t understand or even value arts and culture because that makes money, and if done right and respectfully, it can make a lot of money. I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s not like I didn’t make those points, son. It’s your first big project. I think they just—”

“Don’t believe I can manage it on my own.”

“They don’t think you can make the necessary connections on your own,” CEO Jeon finally says. “We all know how important that is. They doubt you’d be able to forge good relationships with professionals in an industry we don’t really have strong connections to. And with a project this big, it’s the company’s resources and reputation on the line.”

There’s silence in the room, as Jungkook seems to process the core issue that the Board has with him. You can tell it’s affecting him so much, as the anger in his eyes slowly turns into resignation. 

It’s no secret that Jungkook’s way of engaging with others leaves a lot to be desired. From what you can see, he’s used to thinking more, envisioning, planning - the concepts and designs are amazing in his head and there are others tasked to sell that idea, to make it connect with people, to express why it matters, and to make sure it earns. That’s what Hoseok is good at; Jungkook never seemed like the type who enjoys that aspect of the work. 

“You should’ve thought about my outstanding interpersonal skills before appointing me as Vice President, then,” he says bitterly. “Clearly that’s what the Board and everyone else value more than anything.”

“Hey, Kook. We know you’re good for this role,” Hoseok comforts. “And we believe in your project, we really do. Just focus on that. Make sure you’re constantly adjusting and refining the plans, and remind the Board that your ideas are even better when they’ve come to life. You’ve done it with your other projects before. Eventually you’ll be able to show them that you’re more than capable of forging relationships, too. That’ll come naturally. But in the meantime, you just have to give them something to make them believe it’ll be good for the company and our image in the long-run. Make them envision it.”

“I have,” Jungkook argues. “And I’ll keep doing that. I just need father to be on my side. I just need him to back me up, to trust me and every single one of my decisions.”

You’ve never heard desperation in Jungkook’s voice until today and you’re surprised with how much it’s affecting you, not just because you know how much effort he’s put into conceptualizing the place but because you’ve come to believe in it, too.

“Ms. Cho.”

CEO Jeon’s voice pulls you away from Jungkook, and you turn to the older man and ask if there’s anything he needs.

“Your thoughts,” he responds. “What would the Arts Center mean for the company? Do you think it will yield profits?”

They’re not questions that are new to you. Hoseok would often ask you these things about the smaller projects that go through him. CEO Jeon has asked you the same things in informal situations before, not so much to gain new insight - although he claims that your thoughts are interesting to him - but to gauge your belief in the project. He has a good read on people; you’ve observed him ask questions and pick apart not what they said but how they said it. You suppose that’s what he’s doing now, too.

“You’ve mentioned a few times that you want to expand the company’s market, Mr. Jeon,” you start. “And if I remember correctly, the Board agreed. Efforts to cater to expats and the middle class have been successful, but perhaps another type of expansion is in engaging the field of the arts and culture and its creators and consumers. More people from all walks of life and all over the world are gaining interest in Korean art and culture in all forms and the company has the resources to create a space for it. Like what the Vice President said, there’s an opportunity to earn from it while, of course, respecting it.”

You see CEO Jeon and Hoseok nod, a sight you’ve seen before as well. But Jungkook looks at you with curiosity, with a look of anticipation, as if he’s hanging onto every word you’re saying. 

“The Arts Center was conceptualized and designed to be a hub for all things creative,” you continue. “Making general admission free makes the arts accessible to people, and once that appreciation grows, they’ll pay to see it, to experience it. Just go to any online forum and you’ll see that the public wants to experience art, not just observe it. They’d travel for it. The Center has spaces for that. I think that’s the ultimate goal - for anyone to be immersed in it. And that can happen through art pieces in a gallery or in a garden, through books, music, or spoken poetry, or even a photoshoot. Patrons can book rooms for private events, they can buy from the gift shop, they can do art themselves. It’s like a canvas and they can take part in creating meaning for the space. That’s what we’re selling. And that’s something people are willing to buy.”

“I see your point, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says, nodding satisfyingly at you. “And it’s a good one.”

“It’s what Mr. Jeon has been saying all this time,” you counter. “It’s easy to understand and to buy into the idea… if only the Board would listen to him. If only they’d open their mind to what he envisions.”

“Well, that’s one way to get through to them, then,” Hoseok voices out. “Invite them to the arts event, treat them like creators and consumers, not as Board members.”

“That’s a good idea,” CEO Jeon says. “Maybe then they can see how you engage with the guests, which I hope you’re working on. And while you’re at it, work on your relationship with them, too. That means initiating conversations, seeking them out… It's part of the job, son. The Board are our stakeholders, too, you know this.”

“Aren’t some of them based in Japan and Singapore?” You wonder aloud, hinting at another suggestion that you want would come from Jungkook himself, given his scheduled plans to fly there.  

“Yeah. Maybe I can meet them the next time I go,” he says, picking up on your thoughts.

Jungkook isn’t really fond of engaging with them. He always just left the socializing part to his uncle who used to head the Southeast Asian office. When Jungkook would be in Seoul, he let his father, Hoseok, and Ji-woo deal with them, with nothing but an acknowledgment on his end. He tends to stay at the bar on his own just to drown out the sounds. Yoongi sometimes joins him but most times, Jungkook finds himself alone even during such events; being with a lot of people is tiring, lonesome, isolating. With this new role, he’s started to accept that he has to do more. It doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy it though. 

“I’ll have that arranged for you,” you tell him. 

“Well then, that’s one way to revamp your image,” the older man smiles. “You just have to keep that up moving forward. That’s why Ms. Cho is there. She’s used to these events and these engagements with them. You’ll be fine.” 

You give a reassuring smile to Jungkook - a genuine one, as you see it’s what he needs, given all that you learned from today’s meeting. He merely nods, and you think that should be enough of an acknowledgment from his end.

Hoseok wraps it up, going through a few policy-related items and then reminding the other men about upcoming social gatherings that they all need to attend. He asks to briefly speak with Jungkook, whom he pulls aside, while the elder Mr. Jeon approaches you.

“Thank you for standing by Jungkook, Ms. Cho, especially since I haven’t been able to show my support the way I want to,” he says. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“It hasn’t, but he made me believe in his vision for the Center,” you respond. “I’m starting to see what he sees. And it’s quite beautiful.”

Jungkook overhears the exchange, as he zoned out on Hoseok once he heard his father address you. 

It’s something that his cousin picks up, as he repeats what he just said, totally unbothered by it. 

Hoseok, of all people, knows how important it is that you have Jungkook’s back. He also knows how difficult that must be for you, given how the man has been towards you all these weeks. 

But you’re unwavering. You’re able to withstand the challenges, and while Hoseok knows that you do have a tendency to also allow yourself to suffer through it, he also knows you’ve learned, and you’ll stand your ground if you need to; he’ll back you up, and he can only hope you know that.

You all exit the private room of the restaurant and head back to the office across the street. It’s 4PM by the time you return to your desk, given that Jungkook called for a meeting with the management support team after what transpired during lunch. 

You immediately work on the minutes and action points, finishing two hours later and then deciding that you’ll work on your next deliverable tomorrow. 

Jungkook exits his room, informing you that he’ll be leaving for an early dinner with Hoseok at a nearby restaurant, and that Mr. Ri can drop you off at your place. You’ve contested the service that was offered to you, and you and Jungkook settled on a compromise that you can go home on your own except for late nights.

“Mr. Ri will just be waiting for me anyway. No harm in driving you home tonight,” Jungkook says, knowing you were about to turn down the offer.

“Okay, sir,” you reply.

You do last minute things and pack up immediately to go home, taking this chance to get proper rest because you know the last two days of the week are going to be tiring. 

The next day, Jungkook does conference calls and closed-door meetings, leaving you to do summary reports and other administrative backlogs that have your eyebrows scrunched the entire day. If it wasn’t for Do-hyun reminding you about lunch that you promised to have with her, you would’ve totally forgotten. 

You’re in the zone as you go through the afternoon - two meetings straight that have Jungkook rubbing his temples constantly and you doing the same. But you pop in some aspirin and ginseng jelly next to his cup of tea, feeling satisfied when he takes them.

You go home on time, not wanting to be offered a ride for a consecutive night, and you get proper rest to face the final day of the week. 

It’s all going well, as you find a rhythm early on as you work on your deliverables while Jungkook remains focused on his own tasks. You’re the one who reminds him now to eat his lunch, and seeing the blueprints sprawled on his desk, you offer to buy him one yourself. 

He nods in appreciation as you state his usual order for confirmation, and you eat your sandwich while waiting for his curry rice bowl in the food hall. You get back to your tasks, thankful for the unusually quiet and uneventful Friday. 

You see now how hyper focused Jungkook could get. He’s got his blinds closed but you can tell that he’s immersed in his designs and proposals and plans. He’s not allowing calls or visitors, and he only rings you to ask for coffee, which you’ve given him four times so far. Towards the end of the day, you’re the one who asks to go in, informing him that the Board meeting has been moved to a week earlier than scheduled; it’s two Fridays from now, which means his team has to finalize everything soon.

It’s his first one since becoming Vice President, and given how he used to question you, you’re surprised when he asks your proposed timeline to prepare for the meeting. 

“Manager Lee is already consolidating all the departmental reports,” you respond. “You can instruct him to finalize the VP report with all those by Wednesday; the presentation can be due on Friday so you can go through all of them. We can submit the report for CEO review the Monday after that and then you can prepare for your run through until the meeting.”

“Sounds good,” he replies. “I’ll send them an email with the instructions shortly.”

“Noted, sir,” you say. “I’ve also submitted the minutes of the past two days’ meetings as well as the policy guidelines you asked for.”

“Oh, right,” he says, taking his iPad. “I’ve looked through them. The minutes are good; you can disseminate them accordingly. I’ve highlighted the parts for the condensed version you’ll send to the CEO and the President. I also have minimal corrections and remarks on the policy guidelines and I’ve edited them directly on the file. Just proofread again and then affix my signature once you’ve finished.”

“Y—you’re done?” You ask. You hope he doesn’t pick up the shock in your voice.

“Yes, and I’ve read them. Thoroughly,” he answers.

You smile in embarrassment after the other day. 

“Does that bother you?” He follows up. 

“N-no, sir,” you say, knowing he’s waiting for an answer. “I guess I was expecting you to take longer because, you know, more comments. And you’ve been busy all day, too.”

“More comments… Is that what you’re expecting?”

“Sort of,” you admit. “I mean… you made a lot of them before.”

You pout in reflex as you realize how you sound. You’re basically pointing out how critical he used to be, and if you’re being honest, you do wish he still was. At least that tells you that he’s still the same, that no knowledge of your past experience with your former boss has made him change his disposition towards you. 

Jungkook sees your pout, and he crosses his arms and legs to keep himself from doing something as stupid as wiping it off you. It’s a little disarming for him, if he’s being honest. 

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” you clarify.

Liar, you think to yourself.

“Well, if I used to do it a lot and I still do that after a month in, wouldn’t it reflect poorly on you and me if you still haven’t learned from all that?” He asks.

You think about it and eventually nod. He does have a point.

“You’ve adapted. I’d be worried if you continued to do things the way you used to,” he adds. 

You nod again, taking in all his words. Much as you appreciate them, there’s another thought still bugging you. 

“May I be honest, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, your heart beating fast now as he looks at you curiously. 

He nods anyway and asks you to continue. 

“I don’t think you’d lower your standards or anything when it comes to my work,” you start. “So I don’t want to believe that you pity me just because you know what I experienced in the past.”

He looks at you questioningly, as if to ask what you’re talking about.

“I spotted Mrs. Byun’s files on your table,” you lie. “I assume you’ve read about how she treated me. And I… I don’t want to be pitied, Mr. Jeon. If it’s that, please don’t. Please don’t let it affect how you’d treat me. It wasn’t even that bad—”

“It was,” he interjects. “This company doesn’t tolerate people who abuse their power. I only knew about your case because I’m thorough with my work. And that includes looking into my staff and their past. I did it for everyone,” he lies as well. 

Hoseok and Yoongi had mentioned something about a past experience and Jungkook did dig deep. It was so he could help you professionally, he convinced himself.

“You should also know that I don’t make compromises when it comes to the quality of work of my staff and that means I don’t pity people if they fail to meet my standards. But I suppose you think that I do because of how I was in the beginning,” he continues, surprising you. “I admit I was being too critical. And I don’t have an excuse, just that I absolutely hate change. I’m not good at managing it and I reacted in a way that I’m used to, which is not a good way at all. I know now that I was not fair to you.”

The apology doesn’t come, but you know that the admission means enough already. It’s definitely taken a huge burden off of you. You didn’t dream up all those incidents and it wasn’t entirely on you. That itself gives you relief. 

“My father and cousin were right. You’re a fast learner. You pick up on the comments, work on them immediately, and adjust accordingly. It’s a good trait to have, Ms. Cho.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Jeon.”

“May I be honest, too?” He asks, surprising you again.

You nod, anticipating what he’d say, knowing he’s never been this quiet nor looked this nervous in all these weeks you’ve known him.

“What you said to my father about the Arts Center the other day, I appreciate that, too,” he says. “I guess you could’ve said something general or basic but you didn’t.”

“Your father wouldn’t have minded what I said,” you reply. “What mattered was how I said it. I guess as the person who’s privy to a lot of things about the project, he sincerely wanted to know what I thought about it, if I genuinely believed in it.”

“Well, it was a good way to convince him. And it seemed like he believed you.”

“I’m not a good actor, Mr. Jeon,” you chuckle. “He believed it because I meant it. And he saw that I was on your side. As I should. I still meant it, though.”

“That’s… encouraging,” he huffs. “At least one person is.”

“I’m sure he does, too.”

“It’s ironic that people like Mr. Ri think that my father and I are so alike, yet we don’t see eye to eye most of the time.”

“It’s because you are alike. You both think you’re right all the time,” you joke, teetering on the edge and sighing in relief when he laughs, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard. 

“You make a good point,” he smiles a tiny bit, something you also don’t think you’ve ever seen him do. “But I’m still adjusting to working directly with him, and in a bigger role, too. We'll probably butt heads a lot.”

“You will. I already know it. In fact, I can already see it,” you laugh again. 

It’s a moment you share with him that you didn’t imagine you ever would. He’s being honest about his concerns and you’re giving comfort in the way you know how and neither of you seems to mind. 

“I’m… I’m gonna need your help, Ms. Cho,” he says so softly, his eyes turning away from you. “I’m gonna need your assistance. Not just in seeing the Arts Center through but in everything - navigating this role, dealing with my father, dealing with people. I… I know what I’m good at. So I don’t really focus on the things I don’t do well in but this position forces me to confront those and I… I’ll need help.” 

For someone who doesn’t seem to like being vulnerable in front of others, seeing this side of Jungkook makes you sympathetic. The soft tone of his voice, the lack of eye contact, the crossed arms… they’re familiar because it’s how you are, and you know it’s difficult to be this honest with another person, especially when it’s about what you need. 

More than wanting to help him because it’s your job, you find yourself wanting to see him succeed, too, to see him manage it all. That way, when you do eventually leave the company and search whatever it is you’re looking for, you can rest easy knowing that he’ll be okay, that the team will be okay, that the Arts Center will be all that he imagined it to be. 

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I’ll do my best to provide you with the assistance you need.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say those words with such sincerity to you, too.

You bow in acknowledgement and head out, leaving Jungkook in a haze, as he realizes that in your presence, he’d done what he's been trying to avoid ever since you walked in his life - be honest. He’d told you his concerns, his needs, and it seems that his honesty is something you appreciated as well. There was that acceptance that he wouldn’t have expected from you, not because you aren’t the type to give it but because he hasn’t given you a reason to. But you gave it regardless; you let him feel that it was okay. 

It’s another half hour before he’s packing up to head home. It’s been a tiring week and he just wants to have a long bath, watch sports, and drink a cold beer over grilled meat. He’ll probably get some work done but maybe he’ll drive to some resort out of town, have a good workout, get in a sauna, and have a massage. He’ll have a nice meal with his friends and then go to a club. Or maybe he’ll just stay in. There’s something about being honest that makes him want to keep to himself for a while. He’ll start with that tonight, as he turns down Taehyung’s invite to another one of his client’s party.

Jungkook walks out and sees your desk empty, but he does hear your voice coming from the management support team’s room, telling them about your weekend plans as well.

“I’m going to the film festival in Incheon,” you say. “And probably just stay at a hostel.”

“Are you going by yourself?” Do-hyun asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply. 

Hajoon was supposed to go with you. He invited himself, actually, and you should’ve read into the fact that he’d wanted to experience your interests with you. You hadn’t minded, and that’s clearly out of the picture now. 

“I usually go to them by myself,” you add.

“Well, if you decide you want to invite one of us or hang out, you can always let us know,” Chin-sun teases, knowing you probably won’t. 

“Let’s wait until we’re not too tired and busy, okay?” You chuckle. “That way, we can afford to do whatever we want on the weekends.”

“Yup, that’ll probably never happen,” Do-hyun pouts. “When are we not tired and busy? It’s probably worse this time because we don’t get to laugh and joke around like we used to. Are we even getting a holiday? Will we have an out-of-town team building? Or dinners and karaoke like how Mr. Jung used to treat us to?”

“The team-building is budgeted so yes, we’ll have it,” you tell them. “And dinners? I can maybe suggest that to Mr. Jeon. And come on, no one’s stopping you from laughing or joking around. You can still do all that.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to because it might seem like I’m not serious about my job because our boss is too serious and it doesn’t seem right,” Do-hyun whines. 

And for the first time, you feel genuinely bad for how they think about Jungkook. You don’t blame them though, but the man you saw earlier who broke into a small smile is definitely capable of laughter; you just don’t know how to elicit it from him again. 

“He’s just been under a lot of pressure, but he doesn’t prohibit you from finding joy in anything,” you say. “Just… give him some time, okay? He’ll come around. Let’s just focus on our work and then focus on ourselves when the weekend comes. So all of you, pack up now and go home to your families and your pets. We’ve got a long few weeks ahead.”

Jungkook hears a collective okay then heads out right away, the initial thought of saying goodbye to the team having dissipated. He can’t blame them for voicing out their frustrations over the change in how they’re being managed. Hoseok was loved. He built a competent team whose spirit Jungkook is afraid he’s now breaking. But he’s not like his cousin, and he doesn’t know how to reach out to them in a way that’s genuine. He let the pressure get to him too much early on and while he’s not the type to forge connections with his staff, he’s seeing now how important it is for him as Vice President to do that. 

But it’s too much to think about for today. He’ll let this affect him a little bit and then figure things out. Based on what he heard though, he’s not on his own. You were on his side again, even when you thought he wasn’t around. There’s something about the way you stand up to him and stand by him that’s refreshing. There’s honesty there, too, and he’s learning that it’s what he needs. 

He makes it to the elevator but then holds the door once he hears rapid footsteps. You mutter your thanks as you enter, and he feels the tension build as you’re together after the exchange earlier. He hasn’t gotten over that yet, so he’s unsure how to talk with you. 

It seems like so are you, as you drum your fingers on the strap of your bag and focus on the door while you both wait to make it to the ground floor. Jungkook is tempted to offer you a ride with him but he decides against it. Even then, he slows his steps so he could walk alongside you, as you both head out the main doors.

“Get some rest, Mr. Jeon,” you finally say. “And have a good weekend.”

You look at him with sincerity in your eyes, your smile soft and assuring, something he’s never seen you direct at him before. It’s even different from earlier. There’s more understanding, he thinks. Perhaps there’s care.

“You, too, Ms. Cho,” he replies before entering the car. “Get home safely.”

You bow to him and wave at Mr. Ri before walking down the pathway to the street that leads towards the bus stop. 

Jungkook lets himself be comfortable in the seat while he forces the image of your smile out of his head. The sun has set and it’s Seoul at its busiest on another hot Friday evening. There are more cars than usual and so movement is slow, but that’s how he sees you - walking down the sidewalk in the midst of all these people. And there you are, somehow looking at peace. There’s an air of isolation that surrounds you, but you don’t look lonely. Just… alone. There’s still that warmth in your eyes and your smile that he finds himself wanting to see more of.

This is when he realizes he might be in trouble. There’s a line he shouldn’t cross, but there’s this desire to get to know you, to know your thoughts and your feelings and your words. He reminds himself that he needs you, in a way that an authority figure needs support and assistance. He needs you to be focused and capable, and he needs to be the same. 

With his attraction that he can’t get over, he knows that the only way to make sure that he keeps things professional is to keep his distance - not just physically, but more so emotionally. You’ll definitely be spending more time together and he needs to constantly remind himself of who you are and who he is. That much as he feels safe and honest with you, he can’t go any further; he can’t let you get any closer. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but that’s one other thing he’ll figure out.

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[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS SCENE BETWEEN | STAY LIKE THIS FOREVER

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 1,190

summary: the first time you spend the night at jamie’s place. this takes place between chapters three and four of distractions. 

A/N: here is the first missing scene from distractions! sorry this is posted so late but it’s still monday for me! i plan on doing a few of these here and there, and will be posting another for ted day tomorrow. please let me know if there are any other moments, either mentioned or implied, you’d like to see from distractions! because i had a busy memorial day weekend, i haven’t had the chance to get chapter seven of distractions in a perfect place, so want to make sure you guys have some small things to hold you over. chapter seven should be out friday!

distractions masterlist 

There were a lot of things that brought you to Jamie’s door that night. 

One was homesickness. You had made the mistake of going on Facebook - a mistake in and of itself - and happened upon pictures of your extended family at a get-together for God knows what. It really didn’t matter. It was just a reminder of what you were missing, even before moving to another continent. You could count on one hand the number of times you got to go home to see your dads in the last few years, and lately it's been hitting you harder how much you missed them.

The second was also Facebook's fault. As you continued scrolling through the app in a depressed haze, you’d happened upon a post from Mason’s mom. God you really needed to unfriend him and his whole family. She had posted pictures of their family; Mason and Chloe included. Without even thinking, you’d clicked on Mason’s profile and saw his updated status.

In a relationship.

He and Chloe were Facebook official. 

While this didn’t surprise you, it still didn’t make you feel good. It was embarrassing the hold he still had on you, even though you’ve long since realized you deserved better than him. It just wasn’t fair that he got to flaunt his perfect, new relationship even though he fucked up and cheated. Eventually, you knew you’d stop caring, but right now all you needed was to get your mind off of your ex and his new girlfriend immediately. 

The third reason you came to see Jamie was a bit more complicated, and you didn’t even fully understand it. The reason being that you just really wanted to see him. You chalked it up to being lonely and horny, and didn’t dwell on the swirling feelings any longer than you should’ve. 

You knocked on his door around 10PM. You were worried he might already be asleep, or out training with Roy. You felt more relieved than you should when you heard the pads of his feet approach the front door. When he opened it, his first reaction was one of surprise, before his expression became pleased. He barely had time to formulate a greeting when your lips were on his. Jamie didn’t need instructions. He immediately hoisted you into his arms and carried you to his room. 

While you were used to Jamie’s generosity in bed, he was extra giving that night. You’d quickly learned it was because he’d sensed your tension. After round three or four - you couldn’t keep track - you and Jamie were laying side by side. He’d slowly turned to face you, and pulled his sheets up to cover you both. He gently thumbed your chin, coaxing you to face him as well. 

“Are you alright?” he’d asked softly. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Jamie shrugged, “You’re quieter than usual.”

You chuckled, “What? I wasn’t loud enough for you before?”

He rolled his eyes, but smirked slightly, “No, I mean, you’re usually more talkative.”

“Are you saying I talk too much?”

You realized his hand was still making contact with your face when he reached down to lightly pinch your shoulder, “Stop it. I like when you talk, but you’ve barely said a word since you’ve been here. And while I definitely do not mind the surprise visit, you’ve never come to my place before. Just wondering if something happened.”

You sighed, no longer able to meet his eye. “It’s really nothing. Was just feeling off today.”

Jamie hummed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head, “Not right now.” 

“Okay. Do you want to talk about anything?”

“Hmm,” you basked in his attention and the way he was playing with your hair for a second, “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“What?” Jamie let out a confused laugh. 

“You know, like when you were a kid, did you always want to be a football player, or did you want to be something else?”

“Huh,” Jamie thought for a beat, “I feel like I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a footballer. After my mom got me into it, I never looked back.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you mused.

“What about you?” he asked after a few seconds. 

“I think in kindergarten I wanted to be a ballerina because I watched Barbie Swan Lake.”

“Of course.”

“And then when I was 9 or 10 I wanted to be a meteorologist. Or no, a storm chaser!” 

Jamie laughed loudly, “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. I watched the Wizard of Oz and thought tornadoes were cool as hell.”

“I think that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to think.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not like other girls,” you both laughed. “But then in middle school, I took my first creative writing class and I was hooked. I felt like I could write forever.” 

“Is that what you did before you came here?” he questioned.

“Sort of. I wrote for an advertising agency, but I wasn’t passionate about it. What I really want to do is be an author,” you admitted quietly.

“Yeah? That’d be so cool.” Jamie whispered, still twisting your hair between his fingers. 

“I think so, too,” you smiled a bit, “But I just haven’t had any inspiration lately.”

Jamie nodded, “Well I bet when you do start writing again, it’ll be great.”

“How would you know? You’ve never read my writing.”

“I just know.” After another few beats of silence, he continues even quieter, “Would you ever let me read something of yours, when you do?”

You studied him through your lashes, before giving him a tiny smile of your own. “Maybe,” you respond coyly. “You have to promise to lie to me and tell me you love it even if you hate it, though.”

Jamie huffs, “I doubt that’ll happen, but I promise.” 

“Thank you.”

You and Jamie kept chatting for a few more minutes before your eyelids grew heavy. As you drifted off, you note how comfortable and at ease you feel with Jamie. Whether it's when you’re hooking up, or just enjoying each other’s company, you feel nice and safe. It was a new feeling, and you didn’t know what it meant, especially when you were half asleep, but you liked it. 

The two of you slept soundly, wrapped up in one another, until around 4AM when you heard pounding coming from the front door. Without opening your eyes, you groan as you feel Jamie pull himself out of bed and out of your arms. 

“I’m sorry, it’s Roy,” he whispered, “I’ve got to get to training.” 

You let out another noise of protest and Jamie chuckled quietly. 

“Next time we stay at my place where Roy can’t find us,” you mumbled tiredly.

“Sounds good to me.”

You barely registered what must have been Jamie kissing your cheek before you’re falling back asleep. 

You were fully out again as Jamie quickly and quietly got ready. Before he jogged downstairs to meet Roy, he indulged himself with one last lingering look at your sleeping form. 

God, you were cute.

A/N: once again, please let me know what you think!! and if there are any other missing scenes you’d like to see! <3 p.s. anyone who asked to be on the taglist today/yesterday I will make sure you’re included in my post tomorrow!

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[dckweed]

THE NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

guess who's back :) torn ligament in my hand has officially been cleared for normal use (even though i've technically been using it like normal ((shhhhh don't tell my GM that)), anyway..) and im back with my babies!! originally, and you can ask @xxbookdrunkdemigodxx , i had planned this to be a little longer and lowkey include some smutty pieces, but, after sitting down and reading over the whole thing this afternoon i felt comfortable with this just being part six and letting the rest of what i had planned come together for part seven :) we've been working very hard behind the scenes to worldbuild for gator and his pearlie..

also, as a reminder i love receiving asks about these two! i also love recieving maybe some drabble ideas too :) my inbox is always open!

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

PART SIX: the bed, the smack and the date.

The weekend with Gator and his sisters was absolutely blissful compared to what you would probably be going back home to. Your fiancé had taken you home early Monday morning after you had helped drop off the girls, his parents on their way back from their trip, driving your car (which at the time you hadn’t realized was all part of his plan to keep you away from Boyd for as long as he could without it being suspicious) with you in the passenger seat, dancing bleary-eyed to the music playing through the speakers from your attached phone, one of your expensive fancy iced coffee’s (that he had happily paid for) in your hand. He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as he watched you, something about the moment just so wholly you that he couldn’t help but wish he had more time to bask in it, but he was already pulling down the long dirt lane that belonged to Boyd, the house not too far off in the distance. 

“Thank you for drivin’ me..” You say, reaching up on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. He leans down just the littlest bit to make it easier for you and you can’t help but to blush at the action as he walks you up to the porch, your bag from the weekend clutched in the hand that he didn’t have loosely on the small of your back, guiding you. 

He hums in response, watching you turn your house key in the door. “I don’t have to be at work until tonight..” He says, following you over the threshold. “Figured maybe we could go back to sleep for a few hours..go get a late lunch or something later?” He had absolutely no intention of leaving you by yourself in the same house as Boyd, not after what he knew, and he would do all he could to make sure you were around him as little as possible, without you knowing. 

“..sounds nice..” You yawn, closing the door and shuffling behind him sleepily. You guys had been up awfully late planning the engagement party, set to be held next weekend, and hadn’t fallen asleep until about an hour before it was time to get the girls up, he had insisted on getting your things packed up and the both of you getting out of the house before his parents came back and despite being exhausted, you weren’t going to argue with him, not wanting to have to put on a show or face any questions about the wedding or dress shopping just yet. “Y’gonna snuggle with me?” “Pearl!” The tone in his voice is cause for concern, but for some reason, with Gator here, you don’t put yourself on high alert. “What have I told you abou-” He comes from his office, stepping into the large entrance of the house, eyes locking on the man behind you as you both turn towards his voice, Gator already on the staircase. “Gator, what are you doing here this morning?” He paints on a cordial face, his voice turning pleasant, but you see the way he looks at you. 

Gator puts a hand on your shoulder, pulling you against his firm body though he stands about two stairs above you. “Morning Sir.” The same coolness he uses with his father lacing through his voice, his hand squeezes your shoulder soothingly, as if trying to massage the tension out of it. “We were up all night planning our engagement party, and with my parents coming home this morning, we figured we’d come here to get some sleep..” You’re looking up at him and he looks down, giving you a small smile. “Right hon?” You nod your head, putting a hand over top of the one he has on your shoulder as you give your step-father a small, gentle smile. “Figured we’d go get a late lunch or somethin’ before I head in to work later this evening too..” 

Boyd seems hesitant but clearly doesn’t want to argue and simply nods his head, dropping whatever he was about to yell at you about before. “Right..i’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.” He says, turning to go back into his office. 

You both watch him walk away, leaving the two of you in your slightly awkward embrace. “What was that about snuggling?” Gator asks, his voice playful once the office door is shut firmly behind the man. You roll your eyes at him and turn around, swatting his butt playfully as he chuckles and starts heading up the stairs ahead of you. 

Your bed looks so warm and inviting when you walk in that you don’t even bother to take off your shoes before diving right into the middle of it, breathing in the smell of your favorite fabric softener. “God, i fucking missed this bed..” You groan, stretching. 

“Oh i’m sorry, is my bed not good enough for you?” Gator asks from the foot of the bed, you feel one of his large warm hands on your ankle, pulling your sandal off for you before tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor, doing the same for your other foot before crawling up the bed to lay next to you, his shirt and basketball shorts somehow having been shed and tossed onto the floor as well. 

“Your bed is fine but it’s..such a boy bed.” You say, scooting up towards your pillows so you can get underneath of your fluffy duvet, rubbing against his warm body as you go. “And it’s small..” 

“The hell does that even mean?” He asks, bewildered as he turns onto his side, draping an arm over your waist like he had been doing the past couple of nights to get comfortable. Now that he had done it, he found it awfully soothing. 

“It means that it was very obviously slept in by a boy for its entire life.” You counter, snuggling yourself against his chest, your ass wiggling against him as you pull the comforter up to your chin, his grip around your waist tightens but you don’t question it, happy to be in bed and relaxed. “It’s all hard and lumpy and cold..not nearly as inviting as rhonda..”

He lifts his head up, peering down at you through narrowed eyes. “Pearl you did not seriously name your fuckin’ bed.” He says, absolutely bewildered by you. 

“Named yours too,” You yawn, comfortable as you look back at him. “Steve.” 

“Steve?” He snorts, and you can practically hear his eyes rolling as he lays his head back down. “If anything, my bed is named like..Brock or something..something bro-y, you know?” 

“Brock is such a dickwad name, Steve is much better.” You cackle when you feel him flick the back of your head before swatting your ass when you start wiggling around. 

“Shut up and go to sleep you fuckin’ dipshit..” He says, and you really don’t need any more urging than that. 

Sleeping with Gator is like sleeping with a life sized teddy bear. He’s warm and snuggly, and despite his hard body, he’s quite soft. You’re not surprised when you wake up with your face buried in his chest, your body half slung over his own around four that afternoon. He had woken up first and had just laid there, his hand ghosting up and down your back as he stared at your dresser, hazel eyes focused on the photos smattering the top of it. 

“Gator?” He hums in response, turning his head to look down at you. His hand stops moving, and you miss the soothingness of it almost immediately. “What time is it?” 

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, the hand that wasn’t on your back going to rake through his messy hair. “We slept all day..” His voice isn’t gravelly like it normally is when he’s slept and you wonder just how long he’s been awake for. “It’s a little after four..” You groan, knowing you’re not possibly going to get any sleep tonight. 

“Boyd’s not going to be pleased..” You sigh, rubbing your eyes with one hand as you push yourself up with the other, Gator’s hand falling from your back. You don’t notice the pout on his lips as you let out a yawn, running a hand through your hair. Your stomach growls as you stretch, and you let out a gasp, embarrassed. 

“Hungry?” H chuckles, watching you from his perch on the pillows as you quickly crawl off the bed, giving him a nice view of your supple ass. “Go on and get dressed, I'll take you to an early dinner..”

You don’t need to be told twice. You emerge from your walk-in closet merely a few minutes later, a pink co-ord set on. The pants were a sweatpants material, but clung nicely to your legs and sat low slung on your hips, leaving your belly on display, giving Gator a good view of the belly button piercing he hadn’t realized you had before as it gleamed against your sunkissed skin. You hum as you stand in front of your vanity, arms lifting up as you brush your hair, slicking it back so you can put it up into a claw clip. Your top is the same material as your bottoms, only from wait Gator can tell, much thinner. You are clearly not wearing a bra, your nipples standing at attention under the fabric and he wonders briefly if you’re cold or if the material is tickling you..either way, he found himself thinking that he’d be more than happy to help you remedy the situation if you wanted him to. He swallows thickly as he realizes that you don’t have the zip done up all the way either, your tits pushed up and practically spilling out, but somehow, when you turn around to ask him how your hair looks, he realizes that it’s a perfectly innocent outfit on you, cute and almost certainly wholesome to those who might see you around town this afternoon. 

He wondered if you did that on purpose. If you knew you were sexy, but tried to downplay it with the innocent sweetness that always seemed to exude from you, whether it be in personality or your clothing. He wanted to find out. 

“You look fine..” He tells you, smiling gently at you from his spot on your bed. You beam with happiness, and the sight alone made him want to tell you that a thousand more times if it meant you would smile like that again. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom and get dressed, meet me out by the car?” You hum in agreement and he watches you grab your little white purse off of the top of your dresser, where you had tossed it when you walked in. He narrows his eyes but doesn't say anything, did you think he wouldn’t pay for everything? He wondered as he watched you step out into the hallway. 

“I am so fucked..” He breathes when the door closes behind you, letting out a relieved breath as he removed your thankfully thick comforter from his lap where it had been doing a mighty fine job of concealing his erection that had begun to pop up as he was watching you merely do your hair. 

You try to go down the stairs as quietly as you can, wanting to just slip out the door and avoid Boyd as much as you can, though he seems to sense you before you’ve even made it halfway down. 

“Y/N, my office.” He says (though you don’t see him anywhere), using your birth name in a tone of voice that sends shivers down your spine. You wondered if it was too late to turn around and run back up to your room, to lock yourself in there with Gator, where you knew you were safe..

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you step off of the bottom stair and onto the antique rug that lay at the bottom. “Yes, Boyd?” You ask softly, stepping through the doorway of his office when you feel confident enough. If you needed Gator, you knew you would only need to scream and he would come running. 

He looks up from his desk, eyebrows tightly knitted together. He’s poised to say something, though it never leaves his lips and instead, he purses them as he zeroes in on your belly. You flush, moving your purse in front of it. You hadn’t told him that you had gotten it done when you turned eighteen. 

“What the hell is that?” He asks, his voice stiff. He was quite the prim and proper man. He disliked piercings, thought they were rebellious and for people who were going to hell. 

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” You say, hoping that you can sway him from his anger. “I got it done on my birthday last year..” He stands from his desk and strides over to you, faster than you had ever seen before. “Boy-” He pushes your purse out of the way and stares down at it. 

“I ought to rip it out.” He says, voice seething. “It makes you look like a fucking whore, Pearl. Is that what you are? Are you a fucking whore?” You figured this wouldn’t be a good time to tell him that you most definitely were not a virgin. “Your mother would be asha-”

 thwack. 

Your hand stung from the force of the blow you had dealt to his face, smacking him so hard that his head flung to the side. “You do not get to tell me about what my mother would think of me.” You say, tears welling in your eyes. “Not when she was alive, and certainly not fucking now..she was my mom before she was ever your wife, you’d do well to remember that, Boyd.” 

You don’t know what came over you, but you had had enough of your mother being held over your head. You knew that she wouldn’t ever think you were a whore. She wouldn’t ever make you feel the way this man did, and she never did, even when she was alive. Even through all of the years of keeping Boyd’s abuse a secret from her, you knew that your mother had loved you, had cherished you. That was one thing that he had never been able to beat into your head, though he never ceased to try. 

You seem to have shocked him into silence for once in his life, and you take it as you winning whatever the fuck this standoff was, triumphantly but still on edge you turn on your heel and walk out, all but running to the front door before he comes to his senses and chases after you. 

You’re crying by the time Gator comes outside a few moments later, you’re standing next to the Jeep when the front door closes. Quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice you wipe your eyes, brushing away the stray tears as he comes down the walk. Even from where you were you could see his eyebrows furrow, the pep in his step turning into a brisk walk as he rushes towards you. 

“Pearl? What’s wrong, hon?” He asks, voice oddly gentle. One hand cups your face when you try to turn away, wiping away tears as they start to fall again. Your hand still hurts from how hard you had hit him, and you cradle it in your other one. “Why’re you cryin’?” 

You shake your head, looking over his shoulder as best as you can. Boyd is watching you guys from his office window. “Not here..please..” You whisper, looking up at him. “He’s watching us..” He looks briefly over his shoulder, his body shielding your own. “Let’s just go..please..” 

He ushers you into the passenger side of your Jeep, opening and closing the door for you before going around to get in, silently starting the engine before he starts pulling down the drive. It’s not until he’s halfway to town that he speaks again. 

“What happened, pearl?” His voice is soft, gentle and calming but you understand that there’s an edge to it. That finding you in tears wasn’t something that was going to easily be let go in his book and part of you found comfort in that notion. 

“I smacked him.” The car stops so quickly that you have to smack your hand on top of the dashboard to keep yourself from being choked out by your seatbelt. “Ow..” You pout, shaking out your still smarting hand. 

Gator turns to face you completely, one hand still on the wheel as he peers at you from the driver's side. “You did what?” A sense of pride swelled up inside of him at your words, but he was so shocked that he wasn’t sure he had actually heard you properly. 

Your lips quiver as you look at him. “He..he told me i looked like a whore because of my belly button piercing..” His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “And i..and then he told me he should rip it out and that my mama would be ashamed of me and i don’t know what came over me but I smacked him..” Tears glistened in your eyes as you looked up at him, pouty lips and all. “Are you mad at me?” 

What kind of silly question was that? “Babygirl..why would I ever be mad at you for standing up for yourself?” He asks you, and you could have started bawling. “I would be mad if you hadn’t hit him for talking to you that way, you know?” He says, his hand coming to your face to wipe the tears falling from your eyes away. You lean into his touch and he presses his hand against your face even harder as if he was trying to soothe your mind. “Pearl, if anyone ever talks to you that way again or in any fuckin’ way that offends you, you give them what's comin’ you hear me? Even if it’s me.” Just thinking about talking to you that way makes him want to smack his own self. “No, especially if it's me.” You give a teary eyed nod and he leans over the console to place a surprisingly gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good, now let's get you something to eat, okay? Make you feel better..” 

You knew it was too late in the day for it, but you finally weren’t too shy to ask him for it. “Can we get an iced coffee, please Gator?” And somehow, just like always when it came to him in the short time you’d known him, you got what you wanted, he even went in with you this time before walking with you to the diner, enjoying the nice afternoon air with your hand slipped in his. 

It was practically dinner time but neither of you had actually eaten anything yet that day, having spent all of it sleeping and neither of you were surprised when you ordered the heaviest things you could imagine. The two of you talked throughout your meals, eating slowly to enjoy the time together without even realizing it, you enjoyed hearing him tell you about his friends and how he couldn’t wait for you to meet them, all the while people were stopping by your guys’ booth to say hello or introduce themselves and congratulate you guys on your engagement. The entire time however, your mind is locked on to one thought, and it makes you quiet after a while (which is fine because Gator can talk enough for the both of you when he wants to). 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about over there?” He asks suddenly, bringing you out of your thoughts. You’re pushing your side order of french fries around your plate, whats left of your biscuits and gravy coating them. “Whatever it is, looks like you’re pondering awful hard on it..”

You open your mouth to answer before closing it again, not wanting to sound..well..you weren’t sure how you didn’t want to sound but whatever it was, you were worried that your thoughts were going to make you sound annoying in some way or another. “Gator, can I ask you something?” You ask quietly, to which he only hums, taking a bite of his giant burger. “Um..when we..you know..get married..are..is it..um..are we going to like..see other people?” You cringe at your own words, surprised when he chokes on his mountain dew. “Gat-”

“What?” He asks, looking at you as if you were a cat that had grown five heads right in front of him. 

“Well, it’s just that.. You know..I know both of us are being forced to do this..” You start wrinkling your nose in disgust at your own words and wishing you could turn time back about fifty seconds so you wouldn’t have to keep living through this. “We barely know each other, let alone love each other..so i was just..thinking that it’s..it’s okay if you want to carry on a relationship with someone else once we’re..married…” 

The look on his face was one of someone who had just seen a puppy being kicked. Hurt and confusion masked his face as he made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “No.” He says, finally finding his voice after a few long moments. “It’s not.” You look up at him, confused. “We are getting married, Pearl. The only relationship that should be carried on is with each other..I know we haven’t known each other long, but i’m doing my best here to try and..try and date you at least before we have to go and say ‘I do’ in front of the whole entire town..” He scratches the back of his neck, looking out the large window and into the light of the slowly setting sun. “I want us to have a chance, as crazy as it sounds..You deserve to be happy, Pearl, and I suppose I do too despite what our parents seem to believe..I was hoping to give us a chance at that with each other, you know?” 

You were stunned. You couldn’t think of any words to say as he stares at you, wide eyed and skin flushed, as if he were embarrassed. You find yourself sliding out of the bench seat on your side of the booth and sidling up next to him. “Pea-umhf” You kiss him. Both hands on either side of his face, body as close to his as you can possibly get in the tight fit between the table and seat. He seems completely stunned but doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, his large hand cupping a side of your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you harder against his side, struggling to turn to face you properly in the small space. 

You have to take a deep breath when you finally pull away, your mind hazy from the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. Your lips felt swollen and bruised from the intensity of the moment and dammit if you didn’t like it. “So..we’re dating?” You ask, cheeks flushed as you situate yourself next to him, reaching across the tabletop for your dr. pepper. You stay sitting next to him for the rest of dinner, his arm over your shoulders, both of you sneaking in little kisses in between mouthfuls of food. 

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[maudie-duan]

Series Summary: Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat for nearly two years. At what point do you choose to either endure or let the strain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

A/N: Happy Monday! I hope everyone had a Harry-filled weekend! I know I did! I’m realizing that the more I write this, the more angst is coming through—which I’m not mad about—Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.6K

Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @sassamanda77 @babegoalsreads @palmettogal508 @indierockgirrl

@lizsogolden @sexymfharriet @pologoonies

Warning: Strong language, minor angst, eventual smut, emotional.

After the photoshoot, I caught the next flight to London, where I was meeting up with Annie and Kevin, who were already setting up base for our short stay. I had no idea Harry would be there when I walked into the studio to say goodbye to Alessandro. I certainly didn’t expect to do an impromptu photoshoot in my underwear, on full display for everyone—including Harry—to see, and eventually the whole world.

Leaving Italy felt like moving a mountain; at least, that’s what the exhausted ache in my body was portraying. When I imagined my first trip to Italy, I never expected to walk away feeling physically and emotionally drained. I had no time to process what had just happened or what the outcome would be. Instead, I found myself revisiting my past, trying to remember moments when time seemed to stand still—moments when I would have allowed myself to succumb to the gravitational pull that Harry had on me.

I thought it was all in my head, but then I kissed him—I fucking kissed him—It felt like being sucked into a vacuum chamber of our own demise, the kiss stealing my breath, carving open a sliver of space that only we existed in—it was just the two of us and the static of our bodies, exploring the curves and plains of one another. I found myself savoring each second, knowing that each moment that passed would become a memory I could take with me wherever I went—because I had to leave, and I knew that I would have to let whatever was unfolding between us go.

The entire plane ride was me trying to convince myself it wasn’t real, that none of it was real, but the second we stood in front of the screen, watching Alessandro skim through the photos, I saw it—It was there in the placement of a hand, or the way the camera caught a smile, a fleeting look, a chased kiss burdened with desire. It was honestly the sexiest photoshoot I’ve seen in a while, and that was the scariest part—to know that there would be proof of its possible existence, something I couldn’t hide from. 

As Harry had coaxed, I kept pushing myself to imagine that I was someone else, pretending we were playing our respective roles. Yet, as the shoot continued, I found that I was unable to separate the two, maybe even unwilling. 

Now, I was reeling in the aftermath, knowing it had only been hours since his hands had been all over my body, and I was lost in it—a daydream of our making—My sore lips served as a pleasant reminder that his lips had pressed against mine, and every time I drew my lips together, a ting of panic stirred in the pit of my stomach—mortified at the thought that we weren’t the only ones in that room. How many times did Alessandro interrupt a shot when it got too intense? How many outfit changes had we gone through? Each set being thrown to the floor, becoming part of the scenes unfolding before us—more evidence to feed that soft creep of guilt lurking around the corner in my mind.

When they finally called the shoot, my whole body ached with every movement, a dull throbbing at my center from fighting to find purchase. Our want became this incessant push of his rock-hard dick against the silk fabric of my panties, leaving me unfulfilled with a growing appetite of need—it brought me back to the curious time before sex, before clothes came off—when every make-out session became two bodies fumbling into different positions, desperately grinding at the surface, trying to remedy that deep set yearning within—and there in the bed that they rolled in at some point during the shot, we lay catching our breaths.

I needed one last glimpse of Harry stretched out on his back, the rise and fall of his chest, the gloss of sweat that cast a sheen glow across his inked skin. I needed these moments like I needed the air filling my lungs, and when he turned on his side, his head resting in the palm of his hand, his face said it all—a dizzy sense of euphoria spreading into a soft grin. I wanted to poke each dimple dipping into his cheeks and wondered if I was still allowed or had that sliver of space seal shut before I had a chance for closure, and why would I need closure in the first place?

That thought brought me back to reality like a door slamming shut—the startling realization that it wasn’t real. Everything that happened between us was for the sake of the photoshoot. The thought tightened my chest, a queasy churn in the depth of my belly gnawing at the back of my throat. I felt naked—exposed, on display for everyone’s amusement—and as I sat up, I looked down at my body, adjusting the straps of my bra as if it could hide everything I just did, everything we just did. 

“Everything okay?” Harry asked, and I straightened, swiping a thumb over my sore lips. When my hand returned to the bed, Harry reached over, running his finger over the smooth stone of my ring, slowly stroking it back and forth—He was so calm about everything—I mean, I’m sure he’s used to this. I know he just finished a movie with my friend, Florence. I’ve heard the stories, and they sounded steamy. That’s what this was; it was work, and this was a job.

“Yeah—” I answer softly, clearing my throat, “I’m okay, you?” I lie.

He looks up, his brows knitting together. “I don’t know…” he forces out as if the words are caught in his throat. I’m at a loss for what to say next because maybe I feel the same way, which should be weird. Perhaps he felt the same connection I did, and something about it felt like an ending. Soon, we’ll go our separate ways, and the thought of that hurt, tugging at the newfound longing, blossoming through my chest, rooting into unspoken desires I would carry with me for months to come.

I wasn't sure if he was looking for an answer, but as he searched my face, all I could do was shake my head, swallowing down the knot that was burning my throat because this wasn’t real. These feelings aren’t real, and when he swipes his finger over my ring again, I have to pull away—I have to pull away from him physically and mentally because this cannot be a thing.

“Shiloh…” he whispers. I look at him then, his hand reaching for my wrist as I scoot myself toward the edge of the bed. Alessandro calls out then, and I look away. 

“Come guys—come look at your gorgeous work!” 

When I glance back over at Harry, there’s something about his expression that’s almost pleading, desperate even, and I feel it—I swear I do—and it’s starting to sting, and I don’t trust myself right now. I’m afraid to look around; I’m so scared of what this might look like.

I’m embarrassed because I don’t usually lose control. I’ve always had a realistic grasp on most situations—everything in my life has to be calculated and controlled. It’s the only way to hold any sense of normalcy—especially with work. I can’t give everything, or there would be nothing left for myself.

These are my thoughts as I lay in my hotel bed at three o’clock in the morning, in London, where I should be resting peacefully, but all I can think about is Harry. How lucky he was to be able to go home and fuck his girlfriend. I wondered if their sex was amazing if she utilized his body the way I desperately wanted to during that shoot—and each time I circle back to that thought, I imagined how good it would have been, how good we would have been.

I would have given anything to slide down his thick cock until it filled my walls—that aching stretch that has no words, that “ouch, this hurts so fucking good,” kind of stretch that you know would hit just the right spot, and it’s primal, and you’re needy for it—and god what you would give…

I knew I had to be up in less than four hours, but there was no way I could function tomorrow without relieving the tension seizing my whole body, and as I dipped my hand into my underwear, I thought about how wet he made me. The slick dampness of the silk—I thought about the way the thin material traced the perfect contour of Harry’s dick. The way the silk effortlessly slid against his hard cock, driving a hunger, and when I pressed down onto him, solid and warm, I wanted the challenge he would bring. 

Each movement was meticulous and taunting; we couldn’t make it too obvious. I kept obsessing over the way he would wrap his arms around my waist or drag my hips ever so slightly, lining me up with his stiff bulge, then pulling me down hard and slow, staying perfectly still—The head of his dick pressing through the smooth silk, teasing my opening. The look in his eyes was enough to make me come, and I was getting so close.

So close as I imagined, his delicate fingers pushing into me. That’s all I would need. The idea of him getting to feel his work, the way he worked me up—for him to know how many times I nearly came undone in his arms because I was so fucking close, so many times, and as I squeeze my eyes shut, my lower belly tightening at every thought, I release him, coming harder than I’ve come in so long, moaning out a gasp of relief as I ride out the wave of pleasure, repeating his name over and over in my head, like there could be no other.

And as I come down, I’m hit with a strange mix of emotions. I can’t get that pleading look on Harry’s face out of my head. What the hell did he mean by “I don’t know?”—What was I supposed to do with that? It was confusing; it felt unfair—Should I feel guilty for wanting him? Did I cross a line? How fucking stupid am I to make anything out of this—He has a fucking girlfriend.

It’s humiliating that thought alone—what am I doing? 

My stomach is sick at the idea of him pushing into his girlfriend. I’m not this kind of person; I will ride for a woman before I even give a man a second thought. It’s not like me to be this disrespectful. I hate this feeling—that feeling of being used and discarded. I’m ashamed, and maybe I’m being dramatic, but this is what it feels like, and now there will be proof—and his girlfriend will see.

Alessandro was so taken by the photo shoot that, in the strange haze of it all, I had to open my dumb fucking mouth and suggest posting a glimpse on social media; of course, this is where my mind went—because when a good marketing opportunity arises, why not utilize its gain? And everyone agreed. Alessandro was already writing out ideas in his notes app, thinking of a fun, sexy way to promote this new prospect.

I had to take a cold shower, my body on fire, my mind spiraling over every detail. I knew eventually, I would have to succumb or be miserable. I had a feeling this was tearing open a new chapter and that this was just the beginning— awakening a new version of myself I hadn’t even begun to explore.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and the steady thunder of knocking on my hotel door woke me. I thought I would cry when I checked the time, muting the caller and my alarm. I knew who it was, and as I forced myself from the bed and stumbled to the door, I could hear Annie calling my name from the other side. 

“Dude, answer your phone!” she gripes, pushing past me. She was already dressed and ready to take on the day I was already dreading.

Annoyed, I scoffed, closing the door to follow after her, “Please, Annie—I think I have a headache coming on…” which took me by surprise because it’s not like I spent my night drinking, but that was what this felt like—a hangover—making me a groggy, sluggish, grump of a human, that has no business going out into the world today.

“Did you drink after the photoshoot?” Annie asks, and it takes me right back to yesterday; and I slumb onto the bed, wanting to spill my guts, but for the first time, I feel like I need to keep whatever I’m feeling to myself—at least until I can sort out exactly what I’m feeling.

“No…” I say, dragging out a heavy sign. The room is bright, the golden sun beaming through the floor-to-ceiling window, and it’s beautiful, but everything is a blur as I stare out the window, numb to it all. It feels like just another hotel window, and when Annie calls my name, I catch sight of Big Ben. 

But instant of taking in the sight, I look to Annie, “I don’t want to do it today…” I tell her.

“Today is the fun day, remember?” she says, lying on the bed, and I shake my head, rolling onto my back.

I’m gazing at the ceiling when she gives me a gentle nudge—and this is the worst part about my job. I can’t just call out, not when everything has been organized with my team and anyone else involved. “Today, all we have is the podcast interview…and it’s with Gemma. It’s going to be so chill. I bet you could even wear sweatpants; it’s that chill…”

I laughed a lazy laugh, “I won’t wear sweatpants…” 

“I know—I’m just saying that this will be a breeze, and then we get to hangout in London, dude…LONDON,” She pushes

I swallow hard, feeling ridiculous that she even feels the need to convince me, but all I can give her is, “Yeah—” I croak, my voice horse, my throat burning, and I don’t know if it’s the exhaustion taking over, but the next thing I know, I’m crying—big, hot, dreadful tears spilling over into my ear.

“Shiloh, are you crying?” Annie is on her knees, scooting closer, worry filling her tone, “Did something happen yesterday?”

I lie, “Nothing happened…” I whisper, swiping at my eyes, but the tears are like a faucet I can’t turn off, and I’m losing it, my breath hitching every time I try and force out words—and then I’m sobbing, rolling into the pillow as my entire body shakes.

“Listen…” Annie starts, lying her head next to mine on the pillow. You get to hang with Gemma today. This has been a long time coming, right? “She says as she rubs small circles into my lower back, attempting to calm me down.

I nod my head, wiping my face against the soggy pillow. When I turn to peek over at Annie, snot drags across my face, and I push myself up, burying my face inside my shirt, not wanting her to see my hideous crying.

“I think I’m just tired,” I murmur through my shirt. 

When I finally unburied my face, she gave me a soft smile. “I’m sorry…” I apologize.

“Don’t apologize. You moved a mountain in the last couple of days and somehow did an extra photoshoot? which…I need details, by the way; you didn’t tell me anything…so mysterious…” she jokes.

Slumping back down on the bed, I exhale, “I don’t know…I’m still trying to figure that out.” I say, forcing myself to get out of bed. 

“You’ll be the first to know, trust me—” I tell her on my way to the bathroom.

When I look back, she’s rolling her eyes, “Okay, cryptic much…”

A/N: Emotions are strange, and a crush can be confusing, but is it a crush or an idea that Shiloh is holding onto? I guess we'll find out...

Thanks for all the support you guys are giving! It's amazing!

Previous Chapters<-

[itsmebytch001]

Sunday Afternoon...

Aaron could see the defeated look in your eyes as Diana turned the corner by the Deli to drop you back off, you looked tired, your hair ruffed up and your red puffy eyes were enough, and it caused him so much grife knowing that what ever happened over the past two days he had allowed, sure it was technically out of his hands, the courts had given him an order to lend you to your Mom Friday through too Sunday and he wasn't egotistical enough to think he could simply go against it but oh how he wanted too...

Sometimes when you were all alone at Diana's with no way to contact him if anything went wrong he would sit alone in the living room once the house had been cleaned into oblivion and think about what he could be doing with you, take you to the Zoo, take you to get your hair done, help you with your homework over the whole weekend instead of having to cram every Monday morning, but instead he would have to take you from school, back home for a bit to pack your bag, make sure you ate something good and then take the dreaded walk to the Deli down on 11th street and simply let you go, reminding you he loved you before he waved you off, being pushed to do so by a unforeseen force.

Diana wordlessly drops you again by the entrance and leaves immediately, Aaron crouched to your level and saw how sunken your eyes were, and that you were holding a Bratz still in its packaging.

Must have been a rough one, he thought.

Aaron: "Come one Baby lets go"

He takes your hand and begins to walk the street with you loosely holding his hand, he takes the Bratz doll from you and hold's it in his other, your silent the whole way home starring out into the distance.

And once you did get home Aaron watched you dump your bag onto the floor and enter your room, flop onto your bed and almost instantly fall asleep. He watches you for several minutes to ensure your really asleep before sitting back on the couch tensely holding The Bratz Doll in one hand.

He wanted to throw it out the damm window.

And it was to him was Diana's way of remotely silencing you with expensive items, all the doll's she brought you were never played with, they were simply shuttled away under the bed still in packaging, there were now including this one 14 doll's just sitting there collecting dust, and this was to be added to the collection. Sure you didn't have any visible marks but it was rare she actually hit you, it was mostly the screaming, the hysterical crying and laughing, yelling again and again the same Arabic phrase at you expecting you to understand despite never having had tried to speak or teach you it and it was killing your childhood, having to deal with a mad woman every weekend. And it wasn't like you ever told him about any of these things, you only ever told Auntie Rio, or 'Tita' he wasn't sure if it was because she was a woman, or that she was more motherly but she was the only family member who could bribe you into informing her what had went down, so he as he did many Sunday afternoon's called her...

Calling Rio Morales...

Ring

Rio: "Hello?"

Aaron: "Hey Rio, uh...I know It's Sunday and it's late but...is there any chance you can come talk to Y/n?"

Rio: "Aaron...It's 17:45, I can't just up and go at this time"

Aaron: "There's a doll, she came back with another I just want to make sure she don't have any marks on her"

There was a long exhale on the other side of the phone

Rio: "I can't come this weekend, I'm with my family right now, but I'll come see her Monday M'kay?"

Aaron: "Yeah okay" He huffed

Call ended.

He looked back at you sprawled across your bed still in your winter clothes clicked off his phone, and he too retired to his room and collapsed onto his bed.

It was later in the night Aaron could hear the faint sound of the TV playing, and muttering. He emerged from his bed and peered round the corner to see you sitting, still in your day clothes watching something with the volume so low, while aligning a row of dolls to watch along with you.

Aaron: "Y/n?"

Y/n: "Oh, hi"

Aaron: "What are you doing up so late? You got school tmorrow"

Y/n: "I know..." You look over to the new Bratz doll stuffed away in thee corner.

Aaron: "You wanna talk about it?" He sat down next to you while the TV continued to play.

Y/n: "Nothing happened"

Aaron almost rolled his eyes at such a statement, something had happened you just wanted to silently strop out it.

Aaron: "...Did she hit you?"

Y/n: "Nothing happened"

Aaron: "Did Phil hit you?"

Y/n: "Nothing happened"

Aaron: "She break something of yours?" He's getting warm he can feel it.

Y/n: "NOTHING HAPPENED!" You yelled before stomping off back towards your room.

Aaron: "Ay, Don't yell at me!" He stood and watched you toddle off back to your room.

Aaron: "You better come sit yourself back on this sofa!" You slam the door in his face.

Aaron: "Oh OH you wanna do this now!? Your 9 years old already slamming doors in my face?!" Striding across the hall he forced opened the door with ease to find you sat on your bed.

Aaron: "Acting like a damm teenager, come on" He grabbed your arm and pulled you out and back into the living room while you dropped your weight dragging you across the floor boards.

Aaron: "Use your legs dammit" he continued to drag you across the floor before pulling you up onto the sofa and sitting you next to him, while still holding your forearm to avoid you making a run for it.

Aaron: "you just walk off mid conversation and slam a door in my face?, and-" You tried again to push him off your arm and pull away in order to return to your room. Aaron: "Sit you ass back down" He shoved you back into soft leather.

Aaron: "The hell is going with you?"

...

Aaron: "I asked you a question Y/n answer me" He said sternly.

He looked around the room as in looking for someone, then back at you.

Aaron: "Are you serious right now? You wanna slam a door in my face then go mute on me?"

...

Aaron:" Fine then, we just gonna sit here in silence until you say something" Was this petty? yes.

And so both you and your Dad sat in a horrible echo of silence for maybe 5 minutes while he iced you out in his own stare while tapping on the sofa.

Y/n: "I'm sorry" You whisper.

Aaron: "What was that?"

Y/n: "I'm sorry"

Aaron: "Umhum, so you gonna tell me why you slammed that door in my face?"

Y/n: "Because I was upset at you"

Aaron: "Yeah yeah I know that, but why you acting up so damm much all of a sudden?"

Y/n: "...I don't know"

Aaron: "Is it maybe something to do with your Mom?"

Y/n: "...no"

Aaron: "was it her boyfriend?"

....

Aaron: "So it was the boyfriend huh? Did he hit you? Cuz if he did I told Diana I would drag her ass back to court an-"

Y/n: "He didn't hit me, he just...got really loud"

Aaron: "What do you mean loud?"

Y/n: "I-I" He saw you looking over again at the Bratz doll.

Aaron: "Don't look at that, look at me" He turned your head to face him.

Aaron: "What do you mean loud?"

Y/n: "He...I was talking too much and he was mad so he got in my face and was yelling and pushing me a bit putting his finger in my face and when I got mad he sent me into my room and left me there"

Aaron: "What do you mean 'left you there'?"

Y/n: "The door was locked and I was left there for most of Saturday"

Aaron: "When did they let you out?"

Y/n: "Phil eventually let me out once I banged on the door for awhile and told him I needed to pee"

Aaron crossed his face with his hands, it upset him how casually you took it that you had been trapped for hours in a room all alone and that he, if he hadn't forced it out of you would have never known.

Aaron: "Dose Diana know?"

Y/n: "Yeah she knew, she was there"

He exhaled massively, lightly pulling you closer to him into a loose hug.

Aaron: "I'm sorry that I dragged you"

Y/n: "m'kay"

Aaron: "If you like, you don't gotta go to school tmorrow, we could just stay for Monday"

Y/n: "Do I still have to do my homework?"

Aaron giggled.

Aaron: "Yeah baby you still gotta keep up with homework but we won't have rush it like we always do"

Y/n: "M'kay"

Aaron: "Now lets get you to sleep now yeah?"

Y/n: "Yeah..."

Aaron pick you and hoists you into the hair carries you into your bedroom and plops you into your bed and pulls the blanket over your chest.

Aaron: "Don't let me catch you up again, yeah?"

Y/n: "M'kay, Night Pa"

Aaron: "Goodnight Y/n"

He softly closes the door and again stumbles back into his bedroom to finally sleep.

SEND ME REQUETS PLEASE IT FEEDS ME

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

I don’t want to hear thoughts... Unless they’re yours

Chapter 7: Forbidden longing Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.2k Warning: NSFW, 18+ just in case, angst, dark thoughts, depressive thoughts, Wanda using her magic in a questionable way, Mommy!Kink, Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: Being alone in a new town can be hard. Especially when your past comes back to remind you of all the things you’re missing out on in life. Would Wanda be able to look the other way? Would she be able to stay away from you? Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10 Series materlist                                     Masterlist of all my works

On a Wednesday night you sighed as you sat on your balcony, a glass of wine resting on the table in front of you. You looked down at the pool, the lights at the edges giving the water a brilliant quality to it that you could easily get lost in. It was a beautiful view. You had many reasons to be happy, including the fact that you managed to hire the last needed person on your team today. By next Monday morning, everyone would have started onboarding, relieving some of the pressure this project had been putting on you, but you were feeling down. The days blurred together on weekdays and they dragged torturously slowly on weekends and you couldn’t find your balance. You needed an escape, a way to recharge in some way, but the one person who offered you respite, you had to cancel on, and now you didn’t have the courage to speak to her again, asking for some company, even when you needed it. Especially after the way you couldn’t tear your eyes away from her body every time she wasn’t looking. You couldn’t deny the woman her beauty and the allure of her maturity was obvious, which only made you shy away from her more. But this wasn’t the only thing weighing you down. You knew the source of your current frustration. You looked at your phone for a brief moment again, the image on the screen daunting. Your eyes lingered on the face of a blond woman, smiling at the camera. She looked happy. Really happy. God, why did that make you feel so dispirited? She hasn’t been in your life for years now. Perhaps it was her, that made you scared of thinking of Wanda, you thought distractedly. That blond woman, who had a cute girl on her arm, the two of them taking a selfie to the background of a sandy beach, she was your first girlfriend, your first ever love, the first woman to claim your heart and body. And she had destroyed you. You knew her since you were little. She was a friend of your mother’s and always so amazingly beautiful. Her glacier, icy blue eyes often seemed as cold as her demeaner, but you knew the woman had a soft side, she often kept hidden. To everyone else, she was one of the most influential, respected business women in your town, but when she was with you, her voice grew soft and sweet, her lips forming into a kind smile that very few knew, her touch so gentle, it almost felt like she was afraid you’d break. That soft side is actually what you fell in love with. You were awfully young, but that attraction stayed with you and during the summer after you turned 18, she finally admitted she knew of your feelings. You tried to deny it, of course, your heart hammering in your chest and your cheeks turning pink at the mention of it. You weren’t sure what you expected, but hearing her say that she shared in your feelings certainly wasn’t it. Yet, she told you she’d give you her heart. That you had it already and she’d do everything in her power to convince you that she was worthy of your affection. Her words and the sincerity behind them had your heart leaping. You wanted her love desperately, so you hid your relationship from your mother, knowing she would be against it. You spent afternoons after school sneaking though town, so you could meet her and your summer “interning” for her, having the time of your life. She knew how to lead, knew how to take control almost effortlessly and you were so happy to give in, so happy to let her take charge and guide you. She took her time to build your confidence and trust in her, took it so slow and steady, until you were ready. Eventually she became your first and you were thrilled to experience love and intimacy with her for the first time. You were happy with her, happy to be hers. And she was happy too. Having a pretty girl on her arm, one that looked at her with so much love and adoration, with so much affection, was all she wanted. When she asked you to take a gap year, between high school and college, so the two of you could spend more time together, you happily agreed, letting her make the decisions and choices you weren’t ready to face. She gave you a more permanent position with her, allowing you to save some money for college, while spending each day with her. She took you to so many of her “business trips”, which were no more than excuses, so she could take you on vacations and spoil you. It all looked wonderful on your resume too, so despite your mother’s very vocal disagreement of your choice, she let you go ahead with it… Now, years later, she told you, it was because she knew of your relationship. Disagreed with it wholeheartedly, and even almost threatened your now ex-girlfriend, but wanted you to be happy. And you were. You would have been happy to be with her for the rest of your life. But the things you loved about her and made you happy, were the same things she grew to dislike about you. In her eyes you were indecisive and rarely took initiative, always relied on her to help you and she was growing frustrated. After a couple of years into the relationship, she kept telling you that you’re a grown up, that you should be able to do things on your own, to deal with life on your own. You were so co-dependant and it was suffocating her. It was almost time for you to go to college and you kept asking her opinion for every decision, kept begging her to accompany you for every small thing, her presence providing calmness and reassurance, that you didn’t know how to function without. If only you knew how to tell her that. How to make her understand. One day, when you needed to go and shop for all your textbooks and supplies, you asked her to join you and she snapped. God, she looked so furious. For the first time since you’ve known her, she was as cold to you, as she was with everyone else, her voice a growl as she told you that you were such a useless little thing, incapable of doing even the smallest of things on your own. Your co-dependency was too much for her. She told you how sick she was of having to decide everything for you. Sick of carrying you through life, sick of seeing that pleading look in your eyes, waiting for her to save you. That day she broke up with you and broke your heart in the process too. The things she said echoed in your head for months. They fed your darkest fears, heightened your insecurity, until you couldn’t recognize yourself. You couldn’t pick yourself up from the floor, spending the remainder of your free weeks before college trying to grow the confidence to even attend. It was the worst pain you’ve ever known.   Eventually you thought of it as a lesson you had to learn. No one would want you the way you were with her. She told you that. And you believed it. You fought social anxiety and insecurity, trying to be independent and strong, trying to never be the way you allowed yourself to be with her. You were raised to be strong, your mother always reminded you, you were meant to lead, to be in control, to be powerful. And you were often told you’re good at it. People trusted you, you had a highly developed sense for justice and you cared about people. Yet, that was never what you wanted. You always felt safest under the blanket of another’s authority. Your next relationships were very different, but never worked out. You were never really yourself with those women and in return, they grew distant and eventually you broke up. At this point you thought that having a relationship that made you happy was impossible. No woman would care for your true self, would she? Your first girlfriend was the most patient of them all and even she had trouble to sometimes accept you and especially your kinks. She always hated it when you called her ‘’Mommy’’. You didn’t mean to, in fact it just slipped out sometimes, but it never failed to turn her off. She tried for you, of course, talked it through with you, but she always had a distaste for it, so you learned to keep it to yourself, never letting it slip out with other partners. No matter how much your other exes asked you about your fantasies or kinks, you never shared that one. You were sure that you would never meet a woman who would accept you, let alone share your preferences, choosing to forever keep them buried. And to keep them that way, you avoided the type of women, who actually attracted you most, knowing that sooner or later you’d slip… Perhaps that’s why you avoided Wanda? But she was kind, sweet, caring, she was always so gentle with you, yet assertive and strong, confident in herself and what she wanted. God, she was perfect! She was everything you ever imagined in a partner. Although that thought was absurd. You didn’t even know her… Truth be told, you shouldn’t even think of her. If you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be with her, you knew you’d fall for her so desperately. And she would snap your heart like a twig. Yes, thoughts of Wanda were a dangerous thing. So, you did your best to ignore any idea of her that would pop into your head. Keeping your distance would be in everyone’s best interest. Especially yours. In the long run, it was much kinder to your heart. Somehow that saddened you more and you gulped down the glass of wine in front of you, pouring yourself another. You were in a self-pitying mood and you allowed yourself to look at the picture of your ex and her new girlfriend and how happy they looked together, a lump in your throat. God, when would it be your turn to be this happy? To find the person, who would look at you with so much love in their eyes? Why was it, that you had to look at the happiness of others, never being allowed to taste it yourself? Was there truly no one out there for you? What was it about you that pushed people away? Were you not pretty enough? Not smart enough? Or were you simply unlovable? You often thought so. And the prospect of walking through life alone had you feeling disheartened quite often throughout the years. You’d smile for the world, observing it quietly, pretending to be content. And when you’d get home you’d cry for hours and hours, wanting to scream so hard your throat would go sore. But you’d take another sleeping pill instead and you’d sink into nothingness. It could be worse, you used to think… But nothing was worse than what you felt inside. It’s a good thing you found help when you did, you thought bitterly. Therapy helped you pull yourself out of the darkness and to start living in the light. But there were always days like this from time to time. Just as you thought of that, a movement inside the Maximoff’s house, a sudden shift, followed by the lights in the entire house going out attracted your attention. You could have sworn you saw the lights on both floors go out at once, but you could see nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary, so you shrugged, your eyes moving back to the pool with its brilliant blue water, entirely unaware of being watched by a pair of green eyes.                                               *             *             * After she came home from that disaster of a date, Wanda spent the whole night thinking. Her thoughts spiralled for hours, her heart protesting the thought that she should just pull away from you. She certainly didn’t want to. But could she keep this a friendship? After everything she saw, everything she did? After sharing so much intimacy with you, could she go back? Of course, she could, she decided. It meant a lot to her, yes, and God, she wanted to take everything else, but nothing was set in stone. You never had to know about Wanda’s transgressions.   But she knew… She knew about all those wonderful things inside your head and as she watched your movements from a distance, her mind closed to the outside world and to your thoughts, and she felt deprived. It was almost like withdrawal. Just like right now… She could see you there, on your balcony, sulking… And she wanted to know what you were thinking about. She wanted to know what made you seem so sad. But she couldn’t allow herself to probe, not if she wanted to stay away from you. Annoyed, as much at the situation, as she was at herself, she huffed, red magic erupting from her fingers and taking out the lights in her house. You were off limits. A place where she shouldn’t wander. If only she had seen the dark thoughts that swirled in your head, the pain that you felt as you sat there, perhaps things would be different. Perhaps she’d know just how much you longed to reach out to her, longed to text her and ask for a moment of her company. But such a thing was not meant to be. Despite the proximity, the two of you were worlds apart, each one engulfed by her own doubts and fears. You, so oblivious and blind and completely consumed by the fear of rejection that resided in your heart, and Wanda, who could see you so clearly, but couldn’t bring herself to take another chance with her barely salvaged heart. As Wanda walked up her stairs, her feet silent in the darkness, she felt a sudden sense of anger. It was the quiet, deeply unnerving kind, the kind that crawled up your skin and made your body suddenly heat up, but just wouldn’t boil over. It was the kind of anger that lingered. It stayed with her while she undressed herself, throwing on only a t-shirt, instead of her pajamas, it messed with her while she brushed her teeth, while she sat up in her bed and watched you through her window… You looked so sad. You looked so fucking beautiful in your sadness too and it made her want to blast the walls of this house with her magic, just so she could be closer to you. She wanted to know what caused your sadness and she wanted to find a way to make it better. Resentful of her own reservations, her own rules that restricted her, she huffed, closing her eyes and trying to push the thought of you out of her head and find some comfort in sleep. But sleep never came. And every time she opened her eyes, she was met with the same sight. The same out worldly beauty, the same terrible sadness written all over it. And she couldn’t stand it. Why did you have to be so beautiful? Why did that look in your eyes have to affect her so much. Wanda watched you for another 5 minutes, her eyes unblinking and her thoughts surprisingly empty, before she decided that she couldn’t stand this anymore. Rules be damned. She wanted to take care of you. She wanted to be good to you tonight. Wanda’s astral body levitated out of her physical one with surprising ease, despite the fact that she hadn’t projected in years. Some things just couldn’t be unlearned over time and magic came way too easy to her now, so perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised. She walked in front of the mirror in her bedroom and her head tilted as she examined her reflection. Yes, some things never changed. Those scars, gained in magical battle might have disappeared from her skin, but she could see them clearly here. Her red eyes glowed in the darkness, her skin covered in angry, jagged lines, the blackened fingers, that twitched with unused magic, the tattered crown over her head and the suit that she hasn’t worn since mount Wundagore... All those things from her past. She was a true horror, even in her own eyes. How could she ever ask a girl like you to love a monster like the one she so clearly was? But she wasn’t going to ask you to love her. In fact, you wouldn’t even see her. You had no magical abilities, she checked soon after you moved in. So she had nothing to worry about tonight. With a final glance that lingered on her face, Wanda flew out of her house and hovered over your balcony, examining you up close. You were almost in a stupor and Wanda’s astral form flew closer, landing near you and taking the last few steps to you. “Poor, sweet girl. You look so tired.” She said with a note of melancholy understanding, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hear her. The dark circles under your eyes gave you a grave expression that didn’t sit right with her, that didn’t even seem to fit in the image she had of you and the way your body sagged looked so unnatural, like you were a misshapen doll, that it made Wanda shudder. Only your eyes gave away that there was still a spark of life in you, a tornado of feelings and emotions that scrambled your thoughts. As if to show her you’re alive, your hand moved, blindly taking the glass of wine and dawning the remainder if its content, the sharp taste making you shiver as you swallowed it. In a gesture of gentle compassion, Wanda reached out, her fingers stroking your hair softly. “That’s not good for you, darling girl.” She said with a tenderness that looked almost macabre, considering you couldn’t see or feel her. To her surprise, you put the glass down, pushing it away with an apathetic gesture and Wanda crouched down in front of you, eyes studying you with a curious expression. She wondered for a moment if perhaps you had sensed her, but nothing actually gave that away. Your eyes looked unseeingly through her and into the blue water of the pool. But perhaps on some level you could feel her, she hoped, standing up straight again and moving to your side, her forehead touching your temple softly as she breathed you in, while one of her hands circled your shoulders and embraced you gently. Her blackened fingers looked so grotesque next to your unblemished skin, but she couldn’t help herself basking in your proximity, in your presence, in your smell, in your warmth. Despite what she might have looked like, she only wanted to get a moment of gentleness from you. She wanted to hug you, to lay your head on her chest and stroke your hair, a gesture she knew would soothe both of you. God, she probably looked deranged right now, but as soon as your body tilted to the side, as if to lean more against her, Wanda lost all ability to care. Some part of you did sense her, she thought, a surge of excitement passing through her body. She wondered just how much she would be able to influence you in this state. You were obviously more susceptible to suggestion in your tired drunkenness, but she was only in her astral form, her own capabilities limited. And she didn’t really want to manipulate you in any sinister way, just to get you to bed, so you could rest a little. You still had work in the morning and it was already so terribly late… “Sweetheart, do you think you can go to bed for me?” She asked softly, still holding you. It was an empty feeling, her astral form incapable of feeling the way she did, but it was better than nothing. With a soft, affectionate smile, she felt you yawn, your arm making the instinctive motion of covering your mouth, but coming up a few seconds late. “Yes, that’s right. You’re feeling very sleepy right now and you want to go to bed.” She whispered, detaching herself from you. She watched you try to stifle another yawn, but it didn’t quite work. You seemed almost ready to fall asleep right on the chair. It was downright cute, the way you tried to snuggle into the chair for comfort. But Wanda couldn’t let you sleep here. “Your bed would be much more, comfortable, darling.” She whispered in your ear, feeling elated. She felt free. To speak as she wished, to say the things she wanted to say, without fear, without restrictions, without limit. In the cover of darkness, in a state, where the whole universe was her witness, yet no human around would ever hear her, she could say out loud the things she kept hidden. Your body refused to move, your eyes opening and closing in uneven intervals as she watched you. Poor baby was so tired. She would have picked you up and carried you if she could, but she only had her voice to use, so she tried again. “Go on, baby. Go to bed. You’re not supposed to stay here.” She said again, stroking your hair. God, it felt so good to be able to say this out loud. To show you the affection you deserved. Perhaps in her freedom, she could use the words she had never spoken out loud… “Come on, darling, Mommy will cuddle you to sleep if you go to your bed.” She suggested, feeling a shiver pass through her at how good it felt to say those words, already feeling the rush of excitement at the thought of having you in her arms. She could talk to you like this for hours. At this, you stirred, straightening in your chair and trying to keep your eyes open and Wanda smirked. Such a sweet, pliable girl… “Let’s get you into bed.” Wanda smiled, repeating her instructions, until you finally stood with a tired sigh and another stifled yawn. “Such a good girl.” The witch praised you, following your steps into the house and its master bedroom.   The space was dark, but you couldn’t be bothered by the lights, not wanting to irritate your eyes, instead standing in front of the bed and reaching to undress yourself. “No, don’t undress, baby. Mommy won’t be able to stop herself if you take your clothes off.’’ Wanda rushed to stop you. It’s not that she didn’t want to see you, the temptation to let you strip yourself down and expose all your beauty almost too great for her to resist. But she didn’t want to take advantage of you like that. “Just lie down, now darling.” She instructed in a gentle voice, coaxing you to lie down. She watched you take a deep breath, before you reached behind your back, unclasping your bra and taking it off your shoulders and from underneath your clothes, throwing in carelessly on the nearby armchair, before you climbed into bed, not even bothering with the covers. It was such a warm night anyway. You pulled down one of the many pillows at the top of the bed and hugged it, your body needing the feeling of proximity and Wanda’s eyes swelled with tears. God, she couldn’t even remember how many nights she had fallen asleep in just the same way. True to her words, she climbed into bed, facing you and she draped one of her arms over your body. “Sleep now, little angel, Mommy’s here.” She whispered softly. She watched you fall asleep in mere seconds, clearly exhausted, and she watched the features in your face grow softer and more content, once you had drifted. You were still so gorgeous, so precious, cuddled up into bed. She could stay and watch you like this all night. She certainly wanted to. She wanted to let her physical body sleep in her bed, while she stayed here with you, watching you, soothing you, admiring you… But she couldn’t do that… She was meant to keep herself away from you, not learn a new way to be close to you. Staying would only tempt her further. Bargaining with herself, feeling reluctant to leave your side, she spent another half an hour next to you, her hand stroking your cheek affectionately as she watched you sleep, but eventually, she left. Her astral form returned back into her body as if slammed by invisible force, leaving her breathless and full of half-felt emotions. Wanda felt so unfulfilled, knowing you were so close to her, sweetly curled around a pillow and sleeping peacefully. Leaving your side truly left a bitter aftertaste in her. She had gotten a glimpse of being so close to you, of being so utterly herself and now she wanted so much more. She wanted to throw away all her restraint and just fly back to you, where she felt whole, felt a sense of serenity that’s been missing in her. As her eyes snapped open, she groaned. Giving you up, would be much harder than she anticipated. ______________________________________________________ As always, I’d love to know what you guys think about the chapter and the story in general.  Disclaimer: Gif is not mine. I’d be happy to give credit if I knew who made it...

[holybibly]

Hi! I’m sort of a new bunny so I was wondering if there was any specific nicknames you’d like us to call you, apart from the ones on the recent post.

Also is there specific days for sending requests? Just checking.

Can wait to read whatever spicy posts you write next!

Hello my cute little bunny. Welcome to our little depraved house. I hope you feel loved here, my darling.

First of all, I don't have a special nickname for you to call me. You can choose whatever you feel comfortable with. You can call me by my name - my name is Valerie (as a reminder for anyone who somehow missed it) or you can choose your own special nickname for me. All my bunnies have their own way with me and will choose what is most desirable and comfortable for them.

Secondly, requests are always open. I give answers to the Unholy Hours whenever I want.

Answers to the Sugar Weekend will only be given on Fridays until Monday mornings.

Let me remind you that Sugar Weekend is a softer and more comfortable mud.

The Unholy Hours have already hit the bottom of hell with their depravity and lust.

You can always send me requests for any of these segments.

I think I'll end up creating a master list for Unholy Hours and Sugar Weekend, as all my answers turn into mini-fanficks. Sorry bunnies, I absolutely cannot write anything short.

Every time I sit down to write, my brain literally says: "Let's write a whole novel."

I also don't have a release schedule for my main full-length works. It all depends on my work (I'm my own sugar daddy, unfortunately) and my inspiration.

In the near future I will be updating the master list to include upcoming work.

I love you bunnies.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Mike Luckovich

* * * *

One more time with feeling . . . Ignore the polls!

November 6, 2023

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

    We are one year out from the 2024 general election, and media outlets are busy predicting a future they cannot know. I routinely advise readers to “ignore the polls,” so whenever I write about the polls, readers tell me I should follow my own advice. Fair point. But the poll by the New York Times released over the weekend prompted dozens of readers to send panicked emails asking me to “Talk them off the ledge.” The NYTimes poll will get more coverage in the Monday news cycle, so in anticipation of hundreds of additional panicked reactions, I will once again address the issue of polling. It is a scourge that we will live with for the next year, so occasional reminders that the only poll that matters will occur on November 5, 2024, is in order.

          In short, the NYTimes poll found that Biden is trailing Trump in five of six swing states and that Democrats are losing ground among young, Hispanic, and Black voters. Many voters believe that Trump is better able to manage the economy, that Biden is “too old,” and cannot identify anything that Biden did to improve their lives. Go figure!

          Nothing I write below should be interpreted as saying that polls do not contain valuable information. They can (depending on their quality). Polls include information that helps campaign managers and candidates focus and refine their message. They are NOT predictions. Remember Nate Silver’s article in FiveThirtyEight in 2011, “Is Obama toast? Handicapping the 2012 Election.” If polls taken one year before elections were meaningfully predictive, then each of the following candidates should have quit their first campaigns: Carter, Clinton, Obama, Biden—and Trump.  

          So, why should we not panic over the polls? Indeed, is there a silver lining? (Spoiler alert: Yes.)

          Let’s start with a lesson that we must not forget: The old paradigm of “horse-race” polls no longer applies. Why? Because such polls assume that two legitimate candidates are competing for votes within the system. We have never had a candidate who seeks to overthrow the system. Or who attempted a coup. Or who plans to invoke the Insurrection Act on the first day of his next term. Or who called for the execution of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Or who will use the DOJ to persecute his perceived enemies. Or who was found liable for sexual assault. Or who will support a nationwide ban on reproductive liberty. Or who views Putin as a friend and NATO allies as adversaries and leeches.

          I have not studied the NYTimes methodology, but I am confident it simply asks some variant of, “Which candidate do you support in 2024?” Faced with that limited construct, it is easy to be seduced into making a forced choice without regard to the fact that Trump is an anti-candidate. That error is compounded because the poll does not highlight Trump’s fundamental desire to destroy the system but instead asks about Biden’s age.

          As I have written before, believing that most voters will walk into the polling booth in 2024 and vote only for “Biden vs Trump” is simplistic—and beneath the NYTimes and its expert pollsters. When WaPo/ABC published a poll that was subjected to nearly universal derision for its flaws, I wrote the following:

          The 2024 presidential election features two candidates who are surrogates for different visions of America: Democracy versus autocracy; liberty versus tyranny; dignity versus bigotry; science versus disinformation; personal autonomy versus subservience to Christian nationalism; sustainability versus ecological disaster; safety versus gun violence; global stability versus confrontational isolationism. All of that—and much more—is on the ballot in 2024. The WaPo/ABC “horse-race” poll captures none of that.

          Three more points and then I will stop paying attention to the polls (as I recommend).

          First, Dan Pfeiffer’s article in The Message Box on Substack explains why the NYTimes poll shows the path forward. See Dan Pfeiffer, How to Respond to the Very Bad NYT Poll. If you are worried about the poll and want more details, I highly recommend Dan’s article. Pertinent passages include the following about “double haters” who dislike both Biden and Trump:

Perhaps the simplest explanation of Biden’s political challenges is that he has done a lot of good, popular things, and almost no one knows about them. Navigator tested a series of messages about Biden’s various accomplishments, including allowing Medicare to negotiate for lower drug costs, the bipartisan law to rebuild roads and bridges, and efforts to create more manufacturing jobs in the U.S. Guess what? All of this stuff is super popular. Medicare negotiating drug prices is supported by 77% of Americans, including 64% of Republicans. The bipartisan infrastructure law has the support of 73% of Americans and a majority of Republicans. Every accomplishment tested in this poll had majority support. It’s hard to overstate how impressive that is in a deeply divided, highly polarized country at a time when the President’s approval ratings are in the low 40s. That’s the good news. Here’s the bad news: according to the poll, a majority of Americans heard little or nothing about the accomplishments tested. There is a yawning knowledge gap. Now for more good news (think of this as a positive sandwich); the poll shows that when people are told about what Biden has done, his approval rating goes up. The voters most likely to move are the “Double Haters.”

          My penultimate point: The 2024 presidential election matters a lot. But so do congressional elections, gubernatorial elections, state legislative elections, municipal elections, and more. If—heaven forbid—Trump wins in 2024, a second Trump term with a Democratically controlled Congress is radically different than if Republicans control Congress. And states can be bulwarks of individual liberties if Republicans are able to pass national legislation. So, let’s not put every hope and aspiration into the presidential election. We should do everything we can to win up and down the ballot.

Concluding Thoughts.

          Although I did not intend to devote the entire newsletter to the NYTimes poll, I will stop here. We will be dealing with bad polls, handwringing, and negative press for the next year, so it is worth drawing a line in the sand and saying, “Enough!” The election is not over until it is over—notwithstanding the media’s best efforts to declare defeat a year in advance. And while I am criticizing the media, shame on the media for normalizing Trump as a legitimate political candidate. He is not.

          We will prevail over the long run, no matter what happens in 2024. (To be clear, I believe Biden will win re-election.) But if we have confidence that we will ultimately prevail, we can set aside the apocalyptic fears that we wrongly ascribe to a single election in 2024. We don’t need to panic over every poll.

The NYTimes poll reminds us that we have plenty of work to do in spreading the good news of Biden’s accomplishments. So, rather than needlessly fretting a year in advance about 2024, let’s recognize that we have a year to achieve

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[discord-emote-customs]

ive decided to change what im doing for the 400 follower milestone . instead of a line of polls , im going to do something else ;

this weekend only (saturday/sunday) i will take any requests regarding characters from media .

this does NOT include ocs ; this is only characters that are from a widespread media (undertale , hazbin hotel , etc)

at the end of today , i will be turning off the ask box in order to hopefully clear up space for the character requests . it will turn back on friday night so its on for saturday .

once it hits saturday , you can send in any requests you want to see about your favorite characters . on monday , i will shut off the ask box and will continue to have it shut off so i can finish every request gotten to me so far . i cant say when it will turn back on , but i am estimating hopefully two weeks (this time frame because i am getting my wisdom teeth removed next week wednesday , so things might slow for that)

if youre hesitating on a request , i suggest you send it in before the shut off tonight or the shut off monday morning , as ive got 20 requests backed up currently and with the character requests opening for the milestone , itll probably be more which means itll take longer .

the character requests will not be prioritized over other requests , so dont worry about waiting longer for those .

no character requests will be taken before the weekend and theyll still be deleted , so dont send any in now thinking ill still take it . set a reminder .

thank you guys so much for 400 followers . i never thought this blog would even grow to 200 , let alone twice that so quickly ! you guys dont know just how happy this makes me that people enjoy my art so much 🫶

[jjungkookislife]

Never Go Away

pairing: hhh!jimin x f. reader

genre: established relationship, fluff, [18+]

summary: Your first work trip leaves Jimin a little clingy on your return.

wc: 460

a/n: original

warnings: implied smut

date: February 19, 2024

The moment you'd walked through Jimin's front door, he clung to you. He buried his face in your neck and hugged you tightly.

"You're never leaving me again!" Jimin exclaims dramatically. You laugh, hugging him just as tightly until neither of you can breathe properly.

"It was for work, babe," you remind him as you break apart to get a breath of air. Jimin runs a hand through his hair, smiling.

"I know," he blushes, smiling sheepishly as he helps you out of your shoes. "Was Na happy to see you?"

"Incredibly," you respond as you follow him further into his home. "Between her and Ella, I don't know who screamed the loudest when I walked in. Mom's taking her to my grandma's this weekend, so I'm all yours."

"We'll stay in bed until Monday," Jimin wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes at him playfully. You giggle when he pouts, pressing a kiss to your cheek before you're pulling him back to kiss his lips.

"I missed you a lot," you admit as your hand laces with his. I hope these trips aren't too frequent."

"I missed you, too. I loved all the little notes you left around the house. It made me miss you more, but having you here with me all weekend sounds amazing."

"Will we be leaving the bedroom?" you ask with a raised brow as Jimin helps you out of your blazer, folding it over the couch before he takes your hand again to lead you to his bedroom.

"Only for food and showers, and maybe I'll bring Ella here so we can take care of her," Jimin ponders this aloud and you shake your head.

"You're ridiculous, Min," You kiss him again, your hands on his shoulders.

"Maybe a little, Doll. I think that's what being in love does to a person though," he smiles shyly, looking away. You cup his cheek, kissing the tip of his nose.

"I love you, Jimin," you whisper softly before you kiss him. Jimin tries to respond but you're having none of it as you deepen the kiss. Jimin melts, heart beating rapidly in his chest.

"So, what's the first thing on your weekend agenda?" you ask as you start to change into your pajamas.

"Dinner and a movie," Jimin grins just as the doorbell rings. Jimin runs out of the room with a grin, coming back two minutes later with a pizza for the two of you to share. He sets it down on the nightstand and turns the TV on, where your favorite moving is waiting for you.

After dinner and a movie, he'll draw a bath for you both and then end the night with a foot massage and a night filled with cuddling.

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

[sequinsmile-x]

hotchniss fluff!

i can’t stop imagining emily holding aaron’s face between her hands and smothering him with kisses all over it🥹

hiiiii

so this kind of fits the prompt, face squishing included, and I hope you like it!

-x-

Love Drunk

Emily breaks a tooth and Aaron looks after her once she's had it removed.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of dentistry

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She blames Dave from the start. 

It happens at family pasta night, a regular occurrence with the team since Emily’s return from Paris. Aaron couldn’t help but feel like an exhibit at a zoo at them ever since the team found out about his and Emily’s relationship, the way they were around each other outside of work a curiosity to their friends. 

On one level, he couldn’t blame them. They made each other softer, he knew that. Their rough edges eroding away at each other, smoothing down all of the things they had endured over the years. It made them affectionate, always seeking the other out, her hand reaching for his and his chest pressed against her back. They exchanged soft kisses every now and again, a subtle reminder that they were together, that they had survived to make it to this. 

He understood his friends' curiosity, the difference between Hotch and Prentiss and Emily and Aaron was stark, but he would like to eventually be able to kiss his girlfriend around them without being smirked at. 

Aaron has his arm slung over her shoulder, keeping close as the team all spoke about their weekend plans as they stood at Dave’s kitchen counter whilst he cooked dinner for them. Emily laughs at Derek, her sarcastic response to his comment said around a nut she’d popped in her mouth, helping herself to the snacks Dave had put out to keep them happy. 

She gasps, her hand flying to her jaw, “Motherfucker.” 

“No cursing in front of the kid, Prentiss,” Dave replies, smiling at her as he tilts his head towards Spencer, who sighs deeply. 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m 30?” He asks, sounding defeated, his sigh only deepening as Derek and JJ both pat him on the shoulder, barely covering their laughter. 

Aaron turns Emily in his arms and looks at her, his concern deepening as she seems to press her hand a little firmer into her jaw, “Are you ok, sweetheart?” 

“I think I cracked a tooth,” she replies, using her tongue to press into the tooth in question before she places her thumb and forefinger in the back of  her mouth, grimacing as she pulls out a sliver of tooth, “God fucking damn it.” 

He winces on her behalf and cups her jaw, rubbing his thumb delicately over where she’d been touching it moments before, “Does it hurt?”

She shakes her head, “Not really, not yet anyway,” she turns to Dave and narrows her eyes at him, “This is your fault.” 

“My fault?” He asks, raising his eyebrow at her, “You’re the one who was eating all the snacks.” 

“Because you’re taking forever to cook, as usual,” she complains, groaning as she absentmindedly rubs at her jaw, easing an ache that hadn’t appeared yet, “I hate the dentist.”

“Everyone hates the dentist, peaches,” Penelope says sympathetically as she rubs her back. 

“Actually, approximately 36% of people fear the dentist, which means 64%...” Spencer drifts off as Emily glares at him, and he clears his throat before sipping his wine, “Never mind.” 

“Do you want to go home, Em?” Aaron asks softly, drawing her attention back towards him. He places his hand on her waist, his thumb tracing small circles just below her ribcage, and she smiles, gently shaking her head at him.

“It’s ok, I won’t be able to see a dentist until Monday at the earliest anyway, might as well stay and have some fun.” 

Aaron frowns, his concern flickering again as he intently looks at her face for any sign that she was playing the situation down. It wasn’t unusual for her to do that, to minimise her pain, especially since Paris, and he no longer wanted to be someone she did that in front of. 

“Are you sure?” 

She nods and leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “I’m sure.” 

“Emily can just stick to a liquid diet,” Dave cuts in, pushing a bottle of wine closer to her, “It won’t be the first time.” 

She narrows her eyes at him, “Shut the fuck up, Dave.” 

___ 

“Mr Hotchner?” 

He looks up from the floor, his eyes fixed on it since Emily had been taken in for her procedure, and he meets the eyes of the dental nurse who had met them when they arrived. He stands up, clearing his throat as he does so, pushing down anxiety that made him feel a little ridiculous. 

She’d survived much worse than a tooth extraction, he knew that. She’d battled monsters by herself and by his side for years and come out the other side, but he hated seeing her in any pain at all, even something relatively minor in comparison. It always made him think of when he’d visited her in the hospital before she was moved to Bethesda. He was still wearing his suit from her funeral. She was awake, but groggy, and had since told him she’d convinced herself she’d dreamt that he’d come to see her. 

“Is she ok?” He asks, and the dental nurse smiles kindly at him, nodding before she responds. 

“Everything went to plan and you can take her home,” she confirms, tilting her head towards the room Emily was in as they walk to it together. She hands him a slip of paper, the aftercare instructions he’d already memorised printed out for him, “She’ll need to keep the gauze she has in there for a few hours but then you can change it. Soft foods for the first couple of days and regular painkillers and she’ll be fine in just a few days. She’s…” the nurse drifts off and clears her throat, “Taken well to the medication.” 

He frowns, wondering what that might mean, but nods, “Thank you,” he replies, folding up the piece of paper and slipping it into his pocket. The nurse opens the door to the room Emily is in, and the relief Aaron feels is palpable when he spots his girlfriend. 

She turns to look at him, her smile wide and half her face swollen, her eyes clearly dazed even from across the room, “Aaron!”

He clears his throat to cover a laugh at her enthusiasm, her words muffled by the gauze stuffed in her mouth. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says crossing the room to press a kiss to her good cheek, “How are you feeling?” 

“I am so good,” she replies, the words mixing together. “I missed you.” 

He does chuckle this time, and he sits next to her on the gurney she’s sitting up on. She rests her head against his shoulder and sighs. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, giving himself a moment to breathe in the scent of her, the comforting smell of her shampoo, as the final bit of tension in his chest eases. 

“I missed you too,” he says, pulling back to look at her, “How is the pain?”

“It’s ok,” she replies, shrugging half-heartedly. She grabs his face, squishing his cheeks together as she smiles at him, “You’re so handsome,” she turns to the nurse and looks at her, “Didn’t I say he’s handsome, Lindsey?” 

Aaron looks at the nurse, who was apparently called Lindsey, his face in his girlfriend's grip, which was still surprisingly strong given how high she clearly was on pain medication. Lindsey smiles before she presses her lips together in a blatant attempt not to laugh and to maintain her professional integrity, and suddenly he realises what she had meant about Emily’s reaction to the medication. He can’t help but wonder what else Emily had said in the time she’d been in observation, but if high on pain medication Emily was anything like drunk Emily, he’s sure he, and their sex life, featured heavily. 

“He’s very handsome, Emily,” she replies placatingly. 

“Right? And he’s all mine,” she says moving his face side to side, “And like I told you, he’s fucking excellent in bed. Or on the couch. Or his-”

“Ok,” he says cutting her off, finally able to get her hand off his face, linking his fingers with hers and squeezing tightly, “Let's get you home, sweetheart.” 

He stands up first and offers his hand to her, grateful when she takes it without argument. Even with his support, her footing is still a little unsteady as she stands, and she leans into his side. 

“Here is her medication, and some spare gauze,” Lindsey says, handing over a small paper bag to Aaron who takes it gratefully.

“Thank you so much.”

Lindsey nods and opens the door, allowing Aaron to guide Emily through it before she follows them out, “If you have any questions don’t hesitate to call.” 

He nods in response, but most of his focus is on getting Emily to walk in a straight line out of the dentist's office and into the parking lot. He helps her into his car, checking she’s buckled her seatbelt properly as he would usually do for Jack before he climbs into the driver's side. 

“I’m going to have to change dentist,” she mutters, her head resting against the window. 

He looks curiously at her, “Why’s that, baby?”

“Lindsey has a crush on you.” 

He’s sure if she didn’t have half her mouth full of gauze and a significant amount of pain medication in her system that she would have sounded jealous, maybe even intimidating, but it just comes across as adorable - something he wouldn’t dare to say outloud even now.

He shakes his head and laughs, “Do you think that’s maybe because you kept talking about how good our sex life is?”

___

“I’m hungry.” 

Aaron kisses her forehead before he slips out from under her to get her a snack. As soon as they’d got home from the dentist she’d wanted to nap, something he happily encouraged, and he sat on the couch with her head in his lap as she slept. 

“Anything you want in particular?” He asks as he walks towards the kitchen, smiling at her as she sits up, “Nuts, maybe?”

She glares at him, although it’s somewhat diminished by the swelling on one side of her face, “Not funny.” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he replies, “Yoghurt or apple sauce.” 

She seems to contemplate it for a moment, “Apple sauce.” 

He gets her snack as requested and walks back to the couch. He sits next to her and tears the lid off of the snack before getting a spoonful of it and offering it to her. She looks at him, her response silent, nothing more than a raised eyebrow that lets him know if he even tried to feed her she’d kill him, and he clears his throat, passing over the spoon and the apple sauce. 

“Sorry,” he says, smiling fondly at her, watching as she grimaces whilst she eats, “So, I’ve got to ask, what’s your plan for getting revenge on Dave?” 

Even though he knew, logically, it was bad luck more than anything that had led to Emily’s tooth cracking, he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t let Dave forget that it happened. That her not-so-veiled threats to get revenge as they left his house the other night would come to something. 

“Oh, it’s already in motion, honey,” she replies nonchalantly, taking another mouthful of apple sauce.

He narrows his eyes slightly, humming before he responds, “Do I want to know?” 

She smiles devilishly at him, lopsided from the local anaesthetic she’d been given, convincing him even further that it was likely best he didn’t find out.

“Well let's just say,” she says, brandishing her spoon around, “He won’t need to take anywhere near as long to cook in future.” 

Aaron watches her for a few seconds, wondering if she was going to divulge any more details, and when she doesn’t he sighs and places his hand on her thigh. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but what did you do?” 

Her eyes sparkle, and he’s sure he has never been more in love with her, “I bought him Italian Cooking Lessons for Beginners.” 

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[pixxyofice]

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak 🔁 😈 demongirl-cock

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak ohhh my god how do people deal with having brothers. oh look im gonna tease you and jump behind you when you're studying. please do your job

😈 demongirl-cock Follow ... wasn't your brother the one that blew up?

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak not what im talking about.

29 Notes 🗨️🔁❤️

🎸 hibiki-rock I think @re8elli0n8reak needs to take a break! Go cuddle with that girlfriend she just got. Could say she needs to regain some minty chill, lmaooo

#get it? pelase say someone got it

13 notes 🗨️🔁❤️

🦅 horizon-sunsky Every time I look at the sky, I am amazed all over again. Being able to touch them with my hands has given me a whole new point of view, and I'm so thankful that I was able to get these new prosthetics. I love having wings. Next photoshoot should be out soon.

#life with wings #prosthetic wings #not photoshoot #birdkin

7 notes 🗨️🔁❤️

🪡 thighroidwrap 🔁 😈 demongirl-cock

😈 demongirl-cock Follow

what the fuck happened when i was asleep

🪡 thighroidwrap Don't worry about it.

#tldr a lot of stuff about vandelay got dumped on us at once #including... peppermint vandelay being among us

54 notes 🗨️🔁❤️

🪡 thighroidwrap 🔁 🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak

👼 posts-from-the-angel Follow Imagine being a company apologist 🙄 like helloooo they had ai code literally in their implants, who knows what bad things could've happened, but they expect us to praise them for... having someone else come and deal with it?

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak Alright, that's it.

👼 posts-from-the-angel Follow Oh nooo, the company apologist is going to pull out something that totally isn't more bullshit. cry more

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak

photo from the article liongirlmane shared

selfie i just took

was literally on the rebel team that took the previous head (you know, kale vandelay, my brother) out of commission because of things mentioned in plenty of articles.

🦁 liongirlmane Follow THAT EXPLAINS WAY TOO MUCH?

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak i know i have many issues that i've made clear on this blog but. that hurts

#that obvious huh #anyway identity reveal! yayyy

539 notes 🗨️🔁❤️

💎 sole-emeralds 🔁 🌪 infernochaser97

🎧 sweet-osts-4-tater-tots Follow Endless Possibility - Sonic Unleashed [OST] ▶️

🌪 infernochaser97 @sole-emeralds I saw this and was reminded of you.

💎 sole-emeralds Thank you for the ping! Favorite.

32 notes 🗨️🔁❤️

🪡 thighroidwrap 🔁 🦁 liongirlmane

🦁 liongirlmane Follow

Anonymous Asked: 😎

I think I'm a little lost, what was bad about the tech??? horizon doesn't seem to be suffering from their new robot parts???

Well, there was something built into their robot prosthetics that was actively meant to manipulate those who had them. Typical company bullshit. Read this article.

horizon can be glad about their prosthetics all they want but how much of it is from this?

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak next article is about how the current heads have been working to get everybody's part replaced and also what exactly SPECTRA did. stop just looking at one article and leaving it there.

🦁 liongirlmane Follow Oookay...?

662 notes 🗨️🔁❤️

🖍 cnmntoastbot 🔁🦁 liongirlmane

🦁 liongirlmane Follow Honestly, the situation over at Vandelay Island just shows how much of a bad idea companies running living spaces are. Revolving that much of life around the place who employs you is just a bad idea.

Credits for company items only? Can't move away if you wanted to start somewhere else? Bad. Read ANYTHING on company towns, and then imagine that. But Worse.

🪡 thighroidwrap I mean, at least the food is free. Even if there are 4 mondays and i don't know which one aligns with your weekends

🦁 liongirlmane Follow What

🎸 hibiki-rock That's being fixed! AND we're even getting rid of the AI in the robot parts!

🦁 liongirlmane Follow WHAT?!

🖍 cnmntoastbot He is completely correct! (o´▽`o) If you were ever wondering why your friends who took residence on our island made any monday posts on other days of your week, that would be why! \(^ヮ^)/

1.2k notes 🗨️🔁❤️

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak 🔁🖍 cnmntoastbot

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak I want... tiddy... in my face....

🖍 cnmntoastbot (⌒_⌒;) i suppose you are glad to be dating someone who can do that for you now!

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak CNMN WHAT THE FUCK. @Kirby-Mass-Defend PLEASE TELL YOUR ROBOT TO NOT REBLLOG POSTS LIKE THIS?????? THIS IS TWO YEARS OLD

42.1k notes 🗨️🔁❤️

🎸 hibiki-rock 🔁 🦁 liongirlmane

👼 posts-from-the-angel Follow If you don't reblog anything about this, you're a shitty person. Vandelay Island has been on fire for the past week, and it's in NO news articles at all! So here's a summary of what's been happening...

keep reading

🦁 liongirlmane Follow ... there... there are, though?

🎸 hibiki-rock Its all i hear on my morning commute >.>

#blah blah blah here's the section of the island that's closed off i'm SICK OF IT

51.3k notes 🗨️🔁❤️

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak 🔁 🪡 thighroidwrap

🪡 thighroidwrap Your daily reminder to TAKE OFF YOUR PROSTHETICS. It's NO LEG DAY!

🐈‍⬛ re8elli0n8reak NO LEG DAY!! NO LEG DAY!!

3 notes 🗨️🔁❤️

[quickspinner]

A Refresher on the Weekly Roundup

Apologies for the fact that I am once again a Wordy Bitch and over explainer, but I appreciate anybody who reads all my word vomit.

Some asks I got a while ago reminded me that not everybody has been here since I started the roundup, so here's a quick refresher on what the roundup is, why I do it, and some notes on how things have changed from when I first started.

I believe, and have always believed, that if you want other people to comment on/promote your work, you need to be willing to promote theirs, so I've made it a point since I started in this fandom to reblog all the lukanette content I can find. This blog is not curated; there's no grading rubric, I just reblog everything and let readers judge what they like and don't like. I've also always tried to drive traffic back to the authors rather than to my page, I didn't want anyone to think I was trying to steal their views or anything. There have occasionally been things that I...just didn't feel right about, but that is very, very rare, and I have made it a practice to reblog everyone's work, regardless of any personal beef I may have with them. Unless they have blocked me or forced me to block them (which so far has not happened), in which case I cannot reblog, I go ahead an reblog.

I started the roundup in 2020 (I think). Originally, I had just noticed that things posted to tumblr over the weekend tended to get less notes, so I started doing a Weekend Roundup on Mondays just to shine a light on those fics. I had maybe 400 followers at that point and I figured I could get at least a little boost for those weekend fics. It honestly never occurred to me at the time that anyone would be bothered by having their fics promoted, but someone messaged me upset that I had included their fic, which they published on Monday, because they had been specifically trying to avoid being on it by publishing on Monday. They had their reasons but honestly I felt like those weren't my business, and if they didn't want to be included, that was fine, so now I include a disclaimer that anyone who does not want to be included can message me and let me know and I will comply, no questions asked.

Some people on discord indicated that it would be useful for the roundup to include the entire week of fics, so I started doing a Weekly Roundup instead of the Weekend Roundup. I've been doing the roundup the same way from the beginning, and most of the reblogs on LBSC the same way - the link is always back to the original post and not my reblog of it, and readers are expected to check the tags of the original post. If subject matter has trigger warnings or something that might be controversial/upsetting, I generally put a reminder to check the original tags on the fics. I can see that I don't actually have that statement in my pinned post or the What Is the Roundup Link, so I'll try to remember to add it sometime this week.

I only pull links from and link to tumblr, unless someone sends me a message asking that a link to another platform be included. Content is a bit slow right now but there were quite a lot of links per week in the beginning so I had to set some boundaries to keep myself sane. This is a tumblr blog and it made sense to me to boost other tumblr blogs, and not to try and become some kind of clearing house for content across platforms. I'll happily reblog anybody that does that, but I don't have that kind of time or commitment.

I used to read everything I reblogged. I used to do my best to leave comments, either in the tags or on AO3 or whatever I could do. I regret that I just can't do that right now. I'm not intending to slight anyone by reblogging with only the quickroundup tag, I am just really struggling in general right now and I don't have the emotional bandwidth to immediately comment on everything. I do sometimes go back and comment when I can, but I don't want anyone to be forgotten or left out, so it's easiest for me to reblog immediately whether I can comment or not, so that I don't forget to go back and reblog it later.

I'm familiar with most of the Lukanette authors by now, so when someone I know posts a fic I don't generally have to read it to know that it's Lukanette if it is marked Lukanette. If it's a new author or someone I am not familiar with, I will at least skim through to make sure it is in fact Lukanette endgame. I haven't had any complaints so I don't think I'm accidentally reblogging Lukanette salt in disguise.

There is some grey area in what constitutes endgame; I will for example reblog breakup or character death stories, mutual pining stories, and others where the characters don't necessarily end up together. My personal rule is, if they aren't together, you wish they were. If it feels at the end of the story like "this is the way it should be" then I don't really think of it as Lukanette. If it feels like "this is a tragedy" then yeah, I still consider it Lukanette endgame, even if they technically aren't, and will include it in the roundup. However I do not in any way consider myself the final arbiter of what is or is not Lukanette endgame, you are welcome to define it differently, I'm not going to tag police anyone and I'll probably ignore anyone who tries to tag police me. However I do try to include warnings when things might not fit the strict definition of endgame so people who want to avoid the angst, can.

At the end of the day, I am just trying to spread the most Lukanette content I can to as much of the audience looking for it as I can find, and I'm not going to nitpick what that means or how it gets done too much, because honestly, it's enough to keep up with without making it too confusing. Nobody has to agree with my judgement or my way of doing things, and anyone who wants to do it better/differently/with more rules has my hearty endorsement to do so.

[eggcats]

This is a random rant and explanation, and means nothing, so feel free to ignore. I just...gotta get everything out to make sure my thoughts are organized in a way where I agree with the decision I've made.

Randomly, at like 2pm on Tuesday, the ceo of the place I left called me. And didn't leave a voicemail but sent a generic text like "Hey it's (name from place) hope you're doing well, was wondering if you had a second to chat 😊" - no further information.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I work 6pm-630a Monday to Wednesday, 2pm on a Tuesday is a time I'm normally asleep, this time I had just happened to be awake for a little when he called me so I saw it happen in real time, but I didn't answer bc a) I was half-asleep and b) I didn't want to fucking talk to him.

So, I immediately text my friend who still works there like "WHY TF IS (NAME) CALLING ME?!???" And she's like wtf???

Another important context. My former boss there either quit or got fired, both of which are insane to me, and (while I may have had issues with him) he was the thing keeping that cesspool afloat, and I'll be pissed on his behalf if the ceo, who has all the maturity of a toddler, fired him after my direct boss helped build that company from the ground up.

More context, it's a small company. The hierarchy when I worked there was CSO/CEO (married), my boss, and me. So I had regular direct contact with this ceo, I know his personality personally - I was subjected to it for the 5 years I worked there. Just to make sure you know my insults are from experience and not just "ceos suck!"

And my friend, who still works there, said she thinks it might be because he's trying to get me to come back to run their lab they opened in another state last year. The one my former boss, who doesn't work there anymore, ran. She said he'd already asked her (she said no) and maybe he's reaching out to me, since - while I didn't do all the client logistics my boss did - I DID run everything else in the lab in the state I lived in (before they moved 2 hours away) - so I left when the lab left.

Which. If he's asking that's insane bc if I had WANTED TO WORK IN THAT LAB, I'D BE LIVING IN THAT STATE AND WORKING THERE. They TRIED to get me to move to that lab and I refused. I'd already fucking moved to a lab for them and got burned when it only lasted a month and I had to pack it up, move it 1000 miles, break 2 leases in a row, and live at home for a year or so to recoup both my credit and my money loss.

SOME MAJOR CONTEXT HERE. That place was a shitshow. They could never fucking give me a direct answer for when they planned on the lab being officially moved. In January, I was told the goal was moved over by May.

I got a new job (ironically, the job I had LEFT FIVE YEARS AGO to come work there) on July 15 of this year. When I did, the lab was still not in any way moved. Despite that being 2 months past the time I was told was the plan.

So I said, fuck that. It's a combination of incompetence and malice to not have a set deadline to try to force my hand into moving 2 hours away, bc without a notice, I won't have income without doing that.

So I got a new job. Told my boss. Emailed everyone July 1 to let them know that starting July 15 my availability would be limited with taking on a new job, but that I'd still help as needed until the move. Legitimately a 2 weeks notice, except I said I'd stay to help out as I could as much as I can.

Got ghosted. No response. Only got a response when I emailed the Friday before, like, hey, reminder, don't rely on me to open and the run the lab like I do starting Monday. Got a brief response.

Have not heard a single thing from either my ceo or cso since, even though it was a solid 2 months of me running myself ragged, getting less sleep and working my weekends there to not abandon them with my leaving.

IT WASN'T LIKE THEY DIDN'T KNOW I WASN'T MOVING WITH THEM. Every single time it was brought up. INCLUDING the first time it was floated, by the ceo to me, to ask if they moved to (place) would I come with them, and I said no. Never once did I even say maybe I'd consider it. My answer was always a firm no. Their ignoring me was because they thought they could bully me into staying and they were mad at me for hurting their feelings or something. Even when I stayed to help they ignored me, and made it seem like I was extorting them by doing so! Like, if you don't want to pay me I'll leave entirely? I'm doing you a favor by still helping out because you only have 3 employees, INCLUDING me?

So, yeah. That's the place I left. They did not once ever email, call, text, or anything since they found out I'd committed to not going with them. The ceo decided to pack up and move the lab entirely in a 2 day span, telling no one - including my boss who was tasked with doing that.

This was in early September. And he's calling me now, mid-November, acting like he cares about how I'm doing.

Bullshit. This company relies on emotional manipulation to get you to overwork yourself to death, and they burned me out during the 5 years I spent killing myself for them. Being paid barely the going rate for lab supervisors, being constantly promised bonuses and raises that never happened, being told things that are forgotten immediately after and getting upset at you if you dared to bring it up. They burned me out, going to work was a chore I hated and I didn't want to even do a single thing with them anymore by the time I left. It wasn't until they weren't my only income that I could see how stressed I was just on a daily basis, or how toxic of a work environment they had created.

Oh, and, don't forget the MULTIPLE nervous breakdowns they gave me from stress and overwork! ONE OF WHICH MADE ME BURST INTO TEARS AS I SOBBED IN FRONT OF THE CEO BECAUSE I WAS SO STRESSED!!!

I'M NOT A PERSON WHO REGULARLY CRIES, AND THAT PLACE MADE ME DO IT ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS!!! AND THEIR "SOLUTION" AFTER THAT CRY WAS TO SEND ME HOME FOR A FEW DAYS AND THEN IGNORE WHAT I HAD SAID AND DID THE EXACT SAME THING AND ALSO DID SOMETHING I EXPLICITLY. SAID. I. DIDN'T. WANT. THEM. TO. DO. Spitting in my face in the process.

I didn't forget that, but I guess HE did.

Oh! And before I forget!

They made me and my coworker work when we both had covid! 😊 Somehow, we did and ALSO didn't infect the other 2 people working there with us in that tiny lab. Absolutely insane thing to force us to do!

Fuck them.

Yeah. I'm backing my decision to ghost him. If it was something legitimately important that he needed to contact me for, he'd had said it in a voicemail or text.

I'm not calling him just to say hi and then deal with the empty promises of pay or whatever as he tries to convince me to come back.

I fucking hope they crash and burn. I live in anticipation for the day I check their company site or on Google maps and learn they went under. Nothing would bring me more joy.

[wellingtonwellsdaily]

News Hour

Good day, my lovely Wellingtons! It’s Uncle Jack here, ready to bring you the latest news from our beautiful town. Have you taken your Joy today? I certainly hope so, because it’s time for News Hour, where we keep you informed about all the wonderful things happening in Wellington Wells.

Let’s start with some exciting news from the Wellington Wells Arts Council. They’ve just announced a brand-new art exhibition that will be opening next week at the Wellington Wells Museum. The exhibit, titled Colours of Joy, features works from some of our most talented local artists, each piece bursting with vibrant colors and positive energy. Whether you’re an art enthusiast or just looking for something beautiful to brighten your day, this exhibition is not to be missed. The grand opening will be on Thursday evening, complete with a wine and cheese reception – how delightful!

In other news, our town’s beloved Wellington Wells Bakery is celebrating its 50th anniversary this month! To mark the occasion, they’re hosting a week-long celebration starting Monday, with special offers on all their most popular treats, including the famous Wellington Wells Jammy Dodgers and their mouth-watering sticky buns. There will also be baking demonstrations, giveaways, and a chance to win a year’s supply of bread! So, if you have a sweet tooth, be sure to stop by and join in the festivities.

Now, onto a bit of health news. The Wellington Wells Health Department has issued a friendly reminder to all residents to stay hydrated, especially as the summer heat continues. They recommend drinking at least eight glasses of water a day and avoiding too much time in direct sunlight. If you’re planning to spend time outdoors, don’t forget to wear a hat, apply sunscreen, and of course, take your Joy! Staying hydrated and cheerful is the key to enjoying these sunny days to the fullest.

Speaking of summer fun, the Wellington Wells Summer Fair is just around the corner! This year’s fair promises to be bigger and better than ever, with rides, games, food stalls, and live entertainment. It’s the perfect event for families, friends, and anyone looking to soak up the festive atmosphere. The fair will be held in Victory Park next weekend, so be sure to bring your Joy and your sense of adventure!

Finally, a quick note from the Wellington Wells Post Office. They’ve recently updated their mailing hours and services to better accommodate our busy lives. The post office will now be open until 7 PM on weekdays, making it easier than ever to send letters, packages, and of course, postcards to your loved ones. After all, a little note from a friend is often just the thing to brighten someone’s day, don’t you think?

Well, I'm afraid we've come to the end of our time, my dear Wellingtons. I hope you feel more connected to our wonderful community and ready to take on the day with a smile. Remember, staying informed is a part of staying Joyful, so keep tuning in for all the latest updates. Until next time, keep smiling, keep spreading Joy, and always remember: happiness is a choice. Choose Joy!