#spree cookie

[ruiiplume]

Father daughter summer time ☀️😎

[aingeal98]

I really hope Cass's plan in birds of prey works I want Bruce and Babs to stick the mission report on the fridge to commemorate Batgirl's first team plan that didn't end in someone dying.

[nayapolitantrainwreck]

Awawa

Based off this thingy

[dizzybizz]

im making myself so hungry its not even funny

[bakedbakermom]

I know only three lines of Shakespeare

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

When this body housed a spirit, a kingdom was too small to hold it. Now two paces of the vilest earth is room enough.

[emailgremlin]

things that i’m doing today that make me feel alive: baking cookies for the neighborhood kids, scheduling time to plan community care events, taking on a church calendar project

i love this community and the way they’ve held my hand and helped me out this year, and i’m glad i’m in a place to do a little bit back

[connorsui]

He stood outside the courthouse, using the building’s reflective glass as a makeshift mirror. He adjusted the tie she’d picked out for him that morning, tugging it loose and then tightening it again until it sat just right. His free hand ran through his hair, smoothing the strands she’d ruffled when she kissed him goodbye with a sly smirk. The faint scent of her perfume clung to his shirt, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Man, your wife is insane,” an officer muttered as he walked past, throwing him a glance.

Without missing a beat, he chuckled, straightening his collar. “Yeah, no shit. Why do you think I married her?” He shot the officer a grin through the reflection, adjusting his cufflinks like this was just another day in his life. “I’m literally on my way to her trial right now, carrying her favorite cookies and wearing the shirt she insisted on. Hell, I’ve even got her eyeliner in this bag because, and I quote, she wants to look stunning for the pictures.”

He gave himself one last look in the glass, smoothing the fabric of his shirt, before turning to the officer. “And when this is all over, I’ll be paying her bail. Not because I have to—because I want to. She’ll come out, probably ask for a shopping spree or some fancy dinner, and you know what? I’ll give it to her. Every last bit.”

His voice softened as he glanced down at the cookies in his hand, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “Because she’s my wife. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[chococookiez]

i have to retag posts a FUCKING GAINNN UGHHHHHH WHY AM I SO UNWELL

[jessamine-rose]

For the ask game I'm taking the 'rlly nice!!' from uwu and I'll be merging it with with crying but only after I removed 'will cry at any moment'

Also! It's been a while since I dropped by :(( I hope you've been doing well!!! Remember to drink some water if you haven't done so recently, and I'm sending my best vibes to you!!! :D

Aahh it’s Shiro!! Thanks for blessing my inbox with another visit, dear. Your answer..…..hmm the omission for crying is quite accurate~

I’m doing well so far!! Very hydrated, still deep in Miguel O’Hara brainrot, and currently in my housewife era another cooking spree >:3

[chickencat8]

uh. is it normal to feel Overstimulated from. too many bots

[stvolanis]

my minds just so full of thoughts of s3 rafe w/ his little housewife!!

he’s so freaking sweet. Gushing to all of his buddies at the country club about the cute little bell who makes him the best meals after a hard day of tormenting the pogues! And all of them are just like “yeah..uhuh..okay..” cause he never shuts up about you! But when you bring them all a fresh batch of peanut butter cookies with that warm smile on your face, they completely understand why Rafe is so smitten with you C:

Rafe would spoil you rotten for treating him so good! shopping sprees on the weekends, and duh, your nails are always done!! you said you wanted a new vintage von dutch mini skirt that barely covers your ass? Done! Rafe bough 5 of them in different colors and styles. Anything you look at for a little too long, or your fingers barely graze over, will be bought so beware!! Don’t even get me started on how Rafe would have flowers sent to you when he’s away on missions, always so pretty and fresh, and always your favorites.

but Rafes favorite part about his housewife? The way you let him stuff your cunt no matter what. You’re cooking? He’s got you bent over with his mushroom tip pounding at your cervix as you desperately try to flip the pancakes before they burn. you’re folding clothes? He’ll bounce you up and down on his cock till you lose focus of what you’re supposed to be doing, too drunk on the way he feels inside of you. Cleaning? Of course he stresses you out when his cum spills onto the freshly mopped floor, so he has you lick it up!! “S’not my fault it wouldn’t all fit in your mouth.” He’d huff out.

his breeding kink would be through the roof with you! his mind spirals at the thought of you with you belly round and swollen, evidence of how good he is to you. You’re so sweet and gentle, you’d be such a good mama to his kids! He can imagine himself walking into his home to the sight of you with a toddler that looks just like the both of you being bounced on your hip. You’d pepper him with kisses, and your little one would crawl out of your arms just to be with him.

Safe to say, Rafe is definitely obsessed with you.

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!

TAG LIST: @elvisalltheway101 @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @luxuriouslokistan-3 @foxevxid @sapriao @parkbabyj @xiyingly @jazminsjaz @likeits2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @floredaqueen

[hoshifighting]

i enjoy your work so much!!! i love reading new posts whenever you update (which is so frequent and im always in awe of how creative your brain is!!) im wondering if you had similar work to your most recent reaction but with mommy issues instead? giving a tight hug to all my peeps struggling through parental relationships ❤️‍🩹

seventeen x reader with mommy issues

a/n: thank you anon 🥺🥺❤️ i hope you like it, and > giving a tight hug to all my peeps struggling through parental relationships pt.2

WARNINGS: mommy issues, svt mostly doing girly things with you.

seungcheol: cheol’s the type to instinctively take a nurturing role without even realizing it. he’ll remind you to eat, help you pick out clothes for the day, and even braid your hair if you let him. “does this look okay?” he asks, tongue sticking out in concentration as his big hands fumble a little. he’s all about making sure you feel cared for in every little way, even if it’s just holding you close while you vent.

jeonghan: knows how to fill that space without making it obvious. he’s the one who’ll ask his sister to help him paint your nails, gossip about random shit, or let you borrow his skincare products. “c’mere, let me do it for you,” he says, gently dabbing serum on your face while teasing you about how bad you are at self-care. it’s his sneaky way of saying, i’m here for you.

joshua: takes on that classic comforting role, always making sure you feel heard.he’ll offer to bake cookies with you or even sew something small together. “it’s okay to miss her,” he’ll say softly, holding your hand. “but you’ve got people now who care about you, including me.”

junhui: create those bonding moments you might’ve missed out on. he’s the type to grab your hand and drag you into the kitchen, insisting you bake something together even if it’s a disaster. “this is supposed to be fun, not perfect babe...” he laughs as flour gets everywhere. he doesn’t try to replace anything, but he makes you feel like you’re not missing out anymore.

hoshi: his appproach is so wholesome it hurts. he’s the kind to pull you into his lap while he combs through your hair, humming softly. “you deserve to feel spoiled,” he says with a grin, and suddenly he’s dragging you to the mall for a mini shopping spree. “pick something cute, okay? you can’t say no—it’s my treat.”

woozi: his way of comforting you is subtle but so meaningful. he won’t push you to talk, but when you’re struggling, he’ll sit you down and quietly braid your hair or make tea for you. “you don’t have to do this alone,” he’ll say in his soft, no-nonsense voice. sometimes it’s just the quiet, supportive presence that heals the most.

wonwoo: he’ll read to you, help you organize your space, or even teach you how to do things like fixing a hem or arranging flowers. “this is kinda relaxing, isn’t it?” he says as you both work together, his calm energy making you feel safe and understood.

minghao: would suggest journaling together, so you can focus more on yourself, than focus on the house problems. “it’s okay to feel like this,” he says, squeezing your hand. “but you’re more than what you’re missing.” he makes sure you feel strong enough to rebuild those pieces.

mingyu: mingyu goes all in on being your cheerleader. he’s the one who’ll sit on the floor with you to do DIY face masks or giggle with you over silly videos. “do you want me to call my sister?... don't really know what a cut-crease is...” he says with a goofy grin, trying his best to make you feel loved and cared for in every way he can.

seokmin: he s exactly what you need when the weight of everything feels heavy. he’ll pull you into the kitchen to teach you his favorite recipes, or he’ll sit down with you to sew a button back on your shirt. “see? you’re already amazing at this!” he beams, making you feel proud of yourself for even the smallest things.

seungkwan: ultimate comforter. he’ll organize a mini self-care day, complete with snacks, facials, and trashy TV. “no one’s judging you here,” he says, rubbing your back as you tear up. his endless affirmations—you’re doing amazing, you deserve love, you’re enough—are exactly what you need to hear.

vernon: he’ll suggest stuff like planting a little herb garden together or decorating a space to make it yours. “babe I think I planted my ring...” he says, looking at the plant pot that will be all messy in seconds just to find the piece of silver.

chan: he’s the guy who’ll offer to watch cheesy movies with you, paint your nails (even if he sucks at it), or teach you a new dance—and stumbling on his own feet on purpose—just to make you smile. “you deserve to feel cared for.”

[seamistgale]

Bernard was being haunted.

His sus-o-meter isn't up to 100%, but if he's being real, it never is. The downside of being into conspiracy theories was that you were only partially sure which one was more skewed than the other. One day he could be convinced Batman is more cryptid than man, and then he'd stumble on some fascinating witness accounts that make him rethink the Vampire hypothesis.

This time, however, he's fairly sure this sort of freaky shit only happens to people in those cookie-cutter horror movies.

… Except this particular ghost might be of midwestern decent, or something, because they sucked at properly haunting.

Example number one:

It was rare that Bernard had dishes piled up. He lived alone, and occasionally Tim would come to his apartment; with a couple of games, some takeout boxes, and a movie later, there would be way more things to clean up than a whole weekend on his own.

The last time Tim came over, Bernard didn't bother cleaning up for the night, and then the trash just…. Disappeared.

Not like 'a burglar broke in for some weird fetish reason, and my trash is now gone' gone, but more 'the trash is in bags, the dishes are clean, and I swear the air smells fresher' gone.

That was strike one.

He brushed it off because Tim had been there. It was unlikely he just went on a stress cleaning spree at Bernard's place but… Well, Bernard's caught him doing way weirder shit. It's fine.

(it's not fine. You just didn't move things around on someone else's turf.

"…Clean up?" Tim echoed back from the phone, sounding as confused as Bernard felt the following morning. "I-- no, of course not!" and then hurriedly continued to reassure Bernard he'd never do that. Because Tim was nice like that, even after Bernard low-key accused him of giving him the Gotham equivalent of pissing in someone else's yard.

So, that was strike one in the back of his hindbrain that something was up.)

Strike two and three came together.

See, in Gotham's economy, sometimes your employer doesn't have your paycheck the week it should be. Who cares if you need to pay rent through or your landlord will double your rent? Neither your boss nor the landlord in question, obviously. So what he usually did was have a nest egg the size of his rent just in case.

But this month Bernard had splurged a little too much, so he was short. It was nothing big, he was just five bucks short.

The issue was, that his landlord was paranoid and was already breathing down his neck for not paying the next month's rent the day before the new month started. Like clockwork, his landlord put a warning under his door, ready to evict him the same day the month started if Bernard didn't have the rent in cash the next morning.

He knew the eviction notice was at the door, but chose to ignore it because it didn't matter, he'd get those five one way or another by the end of the day.

By the time he came back, two things were out of place. The first was the eviction notice on his table. Again, no one moved someone else's shit around.

Strike three happened while counting his nest egg, and would you look at that! He had more money than he'd counted. Nothing ridiculous, just… He had those five bucks now.

All these little things were easy to miss, or misremember, but Bernard was not most people. But the catch here was… All these things were good things. Sort of.

So not only was this happening when he wasn't around, but they were happening to his… Advantage? He'd even call it good fortune if one was willing to ignore the lack of privacy… And maybe he would have, if this wasn't Gotham. Privacy was a mix between a luxury and a currency. Sometimes a kindness.

In some ways maybe it would have been an effective scare tactic, to mess someone's shit up, but this was not the way he'd personally go about it if he wanted someone to leave the building.

So here Bernard was, staring again at the dishes he had placed as bait, because he wasn't an idiot and tempting a ghost into anything remotely violent was stupid. The dishes were cleaned.

He squinted at the ceiling, then at the rest of his apartment, trying to gauge whether trying to make first contact was going to get him more haunted, killed, or turn him into a Saturday morning cartoon.

Finally, he picked up a cup. Not a glass cup, because why would he give the ghost any ammunition, but a couple of fairly clear plastic cups, a marker, two sticky notes, and filled both cups with tap water decently enough so a mild tremble would be noticeable.

The first sticky note said "Yes", and the second, predictably, said "No."

"So." Bernard sat in front of the cups, feeling halfway like a dumbass for doing this in the first place, and halfway like he's about to do the worst decision of his life because it might just work. "You from out of town, or are you just really shitty at this?"

[charchev]

Quality time with the Blue Lock boys!

bllk x gn!reader

Nagi Seishiro

You find Nagi sprawled on the couch, his head resting in your lap while he plays a mobile game. Every time you shift slightly, he lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Stop moving,” he mutters, glancing up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You’re the one making my legs fall asleep,” you retort.

He pauses his game, lightly pinching your cheek. “You’re comfy. Deal with it.” His soft smirk lets you know he’s not moving anytime soon.

Reo Mikage

Reo surprises you with an impromptu shopping spree. He insists on buying matching accessories—a bracelet for you and a watch for him.

“See? Now we’ll always match,” he says, grinning as he adjusts the bracelet on your wrist.

“Reo, this is way too expensive!” you protest, but he waves it off.

“Anything for you. Besides, it looks perfect.” He flashes a wink before pulling you into a nearby café for treats, claiming it’s “part of the experience.”

Bachira Meguru

Bachira drags you outside one rainy afternoon, holding a bright yellow umbrella and grinning ear to ear.

“Let’s splash in the puddles!” he declares, already hopping into one.

“Bachira, we’ll get soaked!” you laugh, but his enthusiasm is contagious.

Soon, you’re both running through the rain, your laughter blending with the sound of raindrops. He spins you around under the umbrella, declaring, “Rainy days are the best with you!”

Isagi Yoichi

Isagi drags you to a local arcade, determined to win you a plushie from the claw machine.

“Almost… got it!” he exclaims, only for the claw to drop the toy at the last second. He groans but keeps trying, his determination unwavering.

After multiple attempts, he finally wins a small plush and hands it to you with a proud grin. “Here, for you!”

You giggle and hug the plush. “Thanks, Isagi. But next time, let me try.”

“No way,” he says, already scoping out his next prize. “I’m on a roll!”

Rin Itoshi

Rin begrudgingly agrees to bake cookies with you, his competitive streak kicking in when he sees how perfectly yours turn out.

“Yours look better,” he mutters, glaring at his slightly misshapen cookies.

You laugh and offer him one of yours. “Here, try mine.”

He takes a bite, his expression softening. “…Not bad.”

You kiss his cheek. “Yours are great too, Rin.”

He huffs but turns his head to hide his blush.

Sae Itoshi

Sae surprises you with a quiet picnic at sunset, far away from the bustling city. As you sit together, he hands you a small box.

“What’s this?” you ask, opening it to find a bracelet with a simple charm.

“It reminded me of you,” he says, avoiding your gaze.

You smile and slip it on, squeezing his hand. “Thank you, Sae.”

His lips twitch into a soft smile as he murmurs, “I just wanted to see you happy.”

[cmdrfupa]

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the faint sound of classical music playing in the background. You stretched, smiling as the soft hum of Levi’s voice filtered through the doorway. It was rare for him to sing—if you could even call his low, gravelly murmurs "singing"—but on special days like today, he always seemed a little lighter even if he didn’t openly admit it.

You padded into the kitchen quickly, finding Levi wiping down the counters in his neatly pressed pajamas. The sight of the small birthday cake you made early in the morning for him sat on the counter. Minimally decorated, a single candle perched on top, and in true Levi fashion, it was perfectly symmetrical thanks to Mikasa suggesting the use of a protractor.

“You were supposed to stay in bed,” he said, his gray eyes flicking to yours with a touch of mock annoyance.

“And miss watching you serenade the toaster and your cake? Never.”

His lips quirked upward in the tiniest of smirks as he set down the cloth and crossed the room to hand you a steaming mug of your favorite tea. “Happy Christmas,” he murmured, pressing a quick, kiss to your temple before immediately stepping back to straighten the dishtowel on the counter.

“Happy Birthday, Levi,” you replied, beaming.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, though the tips of his ears betrayed him, turning faintly red.

“Santa dropped off gifts and the birthday elf did also! So we are absolutely making a big deal out of it.”

Levi shook his head, watching you cross the kitchen to find a lighter. “The birthday elf is not real.”

“So what I’m hearing is you’re excited to see what Santa brought you.”

“Tch. Ridiculous.” He smirked.

The rest of the morning was a chaotic mix of last-minute gift wrapping, flour-dusted countertops from a cookie baking spree, and an impromptu pillow fight after Levi smugly proclaimed that your snowflake cookies looked more like "lopsided stars."

Despite his grumbles about the mess you were making, he stayed by your side the whole time, even going as far as to tie the apron around your waist with an uncharacteristic gentleness. “You’re a disaster,” he said, though the fondness in his tone made your heart melt.

Later, as the two of you sat by the tree with the faint glow of Christmas lights reflecting in his stormy eyes, he reached for your hand. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“For what?”

“For making all this... less insufferable,” he admitted, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I don’t say it much, but I’m grateful for you. Even if you can’t bake to save your life.”

“Your lies will get you nowhere, Ackerman.” You laughed, leaning into his side as he sighed, resting his head lightly against yours. It wasn’t grand or over-the-top, but it was Levi. And that made it perfect.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"concrete" - hotch x fem!bau!reader

your crush on your boss is so nearly at its breaking point; based on the request found here

cw: canonical violence, mutual pining, mild miscommunication, not a happy ending but not an unhappy ending lmao sorry luv ya

word count: 1.4k

------

You’ve been crushing on your boss for exactly ten months and nine days. You’ve known him for close to a year, but when you think about it, that two month difference in time is just about what it takes to warm up to Aaron Hotchner. 

He was a statue when you first met him. Unwavering, stoic, and maybe even a little strict (definitely very strict). He didn’t crack a smile around you until the first case you ever worked with the BAU was wrapped up, and he definitely didn’t make any jokes until much later on. You discovered underneath the stalwart, brick wall you met was the same man, only softer. Like one of those hard-shell candies with a jelly center. He was incredibly kind, patient, observant, and honorable. 

And he would do anything for anyone on his team at the drop of a hat. 

You also got to see the more playful side of him as you got to know him, as your caseload with the BAU only grew. Sure, he was a stickler for paperwork and procedure, but was he though? 

You once saw him take over a report JJ was supposed to finish so she could make it to Henry’s t-ball game. You definitely witnessed him reassuring Penelope that it was okay that she hacked into the Interpol database for info on an UnSub, and when Derek needed help tracking down his cousin in Chicago, Hotch had the whole team pitch in, which was certainly some kind of ethics violation. 

Little did you know that Aaron was crushing on you, too. He didn’t word it that way in his head, of course, but the second he watched you stride into the conference room to consult on a case, he knew he was in trouble. He expedited the transfer paperwork himself, even followed Strauss in the elevator on her way out one night to make her sign it. 

He grew fond of you quickly, of your insights, your compassion with victims’ families, your quick wit. You always bring homemade cookies or cupcakes for the entire team when it’s someone’s birthday, and you always have a different perspective to offer on cases. He especially loves when you are clearly thinking hard about something, so you cross your ankles - sitting or standing, he’s noticed - and tap your toes against the floor. 

Aaron’s ways of showing affection were not lost on you. He brought you coffee on more than one occasion, but he also brought coffee to the rest of the team. He straddles the invisible line between Caring Boss and More Than That so well. You’re not exactly sure what his actions mean.

Like today, for example. The team is in a small town in Kentucky, and you’re deep into a case - a spree, four murders in four days. You have been awake for about twenty straight hours, give or take, and the world around you has turned hazy. 

You are combing through a suspect’s letters with Spencer, your eyes growing heavier by the second. Your chin is propped up by your arm, and you finally close your eyes, just for one second of respite. Your arm gives out and your head whacks against the table, a wake-up call no amount of espresso could ever provide. 

“Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?” Spencer’s out of his chair in an instant as you lift your head, rubbing the already-formed welt on your forehead. 

The spot is tender and red and you’re dizzy, the wheels on your chair not helping matters. Why are there three Reids hovering over you? They meld back into one Reid after you blink a few times, and as you’re nodding to reassure Spencer you’re okay, you hear Hotch walk in. “I heard a thud. What happened?” 

The conference room in the police precinct is teeny and already cramped, so Spencer has to move out of the way for Hotch to get to you. 

“She smacked her head on the table,” Spencer explains hurriedly. “I’ll get you an ice pack,” he scurries off, likely to ask one of the local officers, leaving you alone with Hotch. 

You���re still reeling and a bit disoriented from the contact with the solid oak table. Hotch takes the rolling desk chair beside yours, previously occupied by Spencer, and is hunching to meet your eye line. “You should really go back to the hotel and sleep for a little bit,” he says.

“Nobody else is,” you protest just as Hotch squares up to you to examine the welt on your forehead. You see him visibly grimace, his lips pressing deep into his face.

His thumb is suddenly on your forehead, padding around the bruise. It’s tender, and you know it would hurt if he touched you even a centimeter to the left, but he’s hitting it at just the right spot. You can see the lines on his palm.

“Yeah, well, no one else just concussed themselves,” he points out. You can tell just by looking at him that he’s tired, too. His eyes are heavy, the bags under them puffier than usual. 

“If I’m concussed, then I really shouldn’t go to sleep,” you point out, and Hotch’s expression tightens. 

“What day is it today?” He asks, retracting his hand and pulling back into his own space. 

“Wednesday,” you reply, then your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. 12:17 AM. “Thursday,” you correct. 

Hotch releases a pressure-cooker sigh and narrows his eyes at you scrupulously. You lean forward in your chair in a challenge. “I’m fine,” you insist. 

“I just wish you’d take care of yourself so I wouldn’t have to.” 

This catches you off guard. Your brows furrow and you frown at Hotchner, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” you ask, feeling offended. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “You don’t think I take care of myself?”

Hotch’s mouth is hanging open just slightly, and he’s shaking his head. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I-” 

“You and I both know you would tell me if my performance was inadequate,” you decide in that moment - maybe it’s the potential concussion, or maybe it’s the exhaustion - to rip into him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Aaron.” 

Hotchner shakes his head again. “I know you don’t need a babysitter,” he says calmly. Irritatingly calmly. “I just meant that there are many other things I’d rather be doing…” 

Your mouth goes dry. Obnoxiously, with the cadence of a confused basset hound, you say, “huh?” 

Aaron’s cheeks are pink now, and he swallows hard. “I’d better go check on Reid and that ice pack,” he murmurs, but before he can roll away, you grab the arm of his chair.  

“Aaron,” you breathe out, and suddenly he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, like there’s a spotlight shining down on you from the ceiling of a little police precinct in Middle of Nowhere, Kentucky. 

His brown eyes are so soft at this moment. His eyebrows have softened from their usual piercing, investigative furrow. He knees press into yours, and you want so badly to bridge that gap between his face and yours. His mouth is hanging open, only slightly, and you watch with bated breath as his tongue juts out - just barely - to moisten his lips. 

The door flies open at that moment, and Spencer’s shifting three different ice packs among his hands. “I’ve got gel, I’ve got water-based, and they also had one of those beaded eye masks that people put in the freezer for self-care at home,” he laughs at this, stopping at the head of the table when he realizes he very clearly interrupted something. “Should… should I go?” 

You’re rolling back from Hotch, crossing your ankles and shaking your head. “No, you’re fine, Spence,” you say hurriedly and squeakily, just as Hotch clears his throat and rises from his seat. He lingers in the door on his way out. As you’re taking the gel ice pack from Spencer and placing it gingerly against your forehead, your gaze meets Hotch’s. 

He’s boring into you with those beautiful molten chocolate eyes, and he purses his lips pensively for one fleeting moment, as if to say, to be continued. 

“What was all that about?” Spencer asks as he sits back down. You shake your head. 

“Nothing,” you feel concrete tension in your jaw that radiates all the way down to your toes. You grab the next pile of letters and open one. The fact that you have to pretend like nothing just happened, like you didn’t just share an absurd amount of tension with your boss? It feels like your entire body is on pins and needles. “Let’s just keep going.”