#i have to fucking figure out how fucked my tracking spreadsheet and files are

[frnkiebby]

we love a good whore on the floor~🎃

[overexciteddragon]

If you're struggling with your bookkeeping as a small artist, writer, or creator, especially during tax season... I made a spreadsheet!

I've always felt like there was little to NO resources on how to deal with taxes and bookkeeping when my idea of a career is "charging random Twitter users 200 dollars to draw Rouge the Bat wider than she is tall", so in my incredible autism perseverance I spent months looking up all the info I needed to keep track of it all, finding out what "it all" even was, and then spent another 4 years slowly working on that tool...

I've created this Google Sheets spreadsheet in 2019 and every year during tax season I change it around to fit my needs better as a small creator and small business, I think I'm finally confident in it as a useful tool to share it with others that might need at least something to help them with this

It's pay-what-you-want with a minimum of CAD $1, I just ask for a small amount of support if possible since I've made this from scratch!

I'm sharing the online file because I could not figure out how to not fuck up the charts if I exported it in any file type, but if you'd like to you can export it and use it in Excel! You might just have to redo the charts :(

I hope this helps anyone even a little bit!

And if you have any advice on how to better this spreadsheet (for the general public, not for yourself, that's on you to edit into your own copy!), please let me know!! I taught myself Excel script, formulas, and editing so I can't really say I'm an expert lol

[horizon-forbidden-sheesh]

Writing Process: Timelines & Trackers

Okayyy, so I've written about the drafting process in detail. But along the way, logistics problems tend to pop up that can't be solved in words alone.

Mostly, it has to do with knowing exactly where someone is or what someone is doing at the same time as another character I'm writing. For instance, when does Alva get back to the Base? How long is she there before Aloy shows up?

I didn't always take detailed notes on this during my first play-through. And after I abandoned my Scrivener file, (more about this here ⚙️) I decided to refine my timeline.

I already had a great foundation based on my first play-through and my New Game+ speed run. So, I started fresh, with a new game file and good old fashioned pen & paper. I'm still working through this as I write. (Just finished the Scorcher side quest!!)

*This is in a Master-size (A4) Leuchtturm notebook, in which I'm working back-to-front. I prefer purple pen and grid paper always.

Yes. I know. I am a psycho. As I mentioned in the Preamble, gaming timelines are a special interest. 💁🏼‍♀️ Plus, I build client-friendly Gantt charts for design projects IN MY SLEEP. So, taking my timeline from paper into Spreadsheet status felt like a v natural next step.

💡I started with a weekly at-a-glance, mostly because I needed to coordinate when various characters arrived back at Base:

Why yes, I am tracking Zo & Aloy's periods. Because there is no single, magical herb you can take to stop pregnancy. Don't get me wrong, I dig this trope! It's important to discuss family planning, and our genre is ✨fantasy✨ after all. But I can only suspend my disbelief so far, and there are other ways to get around this, which a Matriarchal society would probably be clued in on.

💡 This quickly evolved to a daily at-a-glance once Kotallo made it to the Base:

This spreadsheet helped me IMMENSELY as I was writing chapters 13, 14, 16, 17, & 19! Basically any time Aloy & Kotallo are not in the same location. Knowing what Kotallo is doing at the Base while Aloy is off mid-adventure has been super important to make sure their Focus calls work and feel natural.

Likewise, knowing exactly what day Erend returns, and how long they have before Aloy gets back all helps with continuity and flow.

Other Things I'm Tracking:

💡Datapoints. The whole point of the GAIA Gang is that they're sorting through the data Aloy collected during the events of HZD. And since that was an absolute whirlwind year for Aloy, I'm thinking her files are a fucking shit show—and almost none of the people sorting through them even know how to read. 😵

So, I started by accumulating all the files by location. I am assuming they're probably geo-tagged—if not, they're at least assembled in order of pick-up, which would mean they're ordered by Aloy's general location at time-of-discovery anyway.

*I crossed them out as I moved them to the next spreadsheet tab...

From this hot mess, I figure that Zo, in her infinite wisdom, took one look at Aloy's files and went, "Oh hell no."

💡Here's the way I imagine Zo organized her playlists, much to Varl, Erend, & Kotallo's relief (Meanwhile, Alva re-filtered everything, and discovered entirely new metadata categories, obviously):

The most important detail here was time!! Most of these are like 1 minute long... but 1 minute in the game is like, 20 minutes IRL. So you've gotta figure the GAIA Gang is back at Base binge-watching an entire docu-series, while simultaneously learning how to read (and procrastinating with hours and hours of bodycam battle footage).

No wonder they're always busy when Aloy shows up!

💡 And yes, these are all tabs on a single spreadsheet:

💡 "Population" is literally just a mess of numbers & formulas as I try to figure out how we went from ~20 E-9 Cradle inhabitants to multiple tribes in the span of ~700 years.

I mean in 3041 we're prolly sitting at like... maybe ~15k in the U.S.?

*On second thought, that Oseram number is probably higher.

Anywayyyy, as fun as a blank page is, my brain really does work best on a grid. The process is totally intuitive, and I create the necessary docs as I go, the same as I would for any client or project. Sometimes, you need to explain things in a way so everyone is on the same page, and I find spreadsheets invaluable in that regard. (Y'all should see my wedding planning spreadsheet, lol.)

This whole process has helped me to find what works for me, and writing fanfic is truly preparing me to write my own original works. What I've discovered is that spreadsheets are part of my flowstate. They bring me a deep sense of peace and they help me to stay on track and oriented while I'm in the weeds.

🖤 Really, I want to come back to something I said in my second 'Process' post: Do what feels natural. Everyone is different. If being 'organized' steals your joy, don't do it. Stay messy! Whatever! Who cares? The most important part is that you find your flowstate.

I found this old Hindu saying while I was copywriting for a Chinese Medicine client, and it really stuck with me: "There are a hundred paths up the mountain, so it doesn't matter which path you take. The only one wasting time is the one who runs around and around the mountain telling everyone else that their path is wrong."

I'm just here documenting my own path up my mountain. And part of me thinks that it's all incredibly self-indulgent and cringe, but hey—when has blogging ever not been?

If you've read this far, I'm grateful. It's all a bit shouting-into-the-void out here, especially when you're this deep into a niche that moved on a while ago. But I've always loved a slowburn. (And if you do too, you might consider reading The Marshal.)

xo, Sheesh.

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | chapter two: incheon mall tube tops

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.5K

notes: i really hope you guys are enjoying namjoon’s story! i think there will only be one more chapter after this.  and like a true unfocused writer i started daydreaming about a yoongi one-shot to go with it? gah, nevermind.  i really hope you guys like this and i’d love to hear how you feel one way or another.  a huge thanks to my amazing beta @hobi-gif​ who does a hell of a lot more than just find typos.  and all of my love has to go out to @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna​ @taetaewonderland​ because all three of you are so much more than tumblr friends.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

**********************

It didn’t matter how hard you tried to hide your sadness, Namjoon saw it.

It didn’t matter how many hushed calls you tried to sneak, or how many smiles you tried to force -- Namjoon saw right through your act from the very beginning.  He’d seen enough to know that you were facing some kind of personal battle. He understood enough about you to know that you were far too private to bring it up or ask for help.

He should have asked.

The question sat heavy on the tip of his tongue for weeks.  He should have asked on the days he would spot you at your desk, fingers pressed to your temples in frustration.  Or on the days when he would catch you staring out the window, mind a million miles away.

He didn’t.

Instead, he let himself be driven to distraction by the way your blouses fit perfectly against the lines of your body. The way your pencil skirts hugged the curve of your hips. How soft your hair looked pulled into the low, loose knot you favored.

He found himself stumbling over his words when you’d quietly slip into meetings to deliver an urgent message or he’d drift off in the middle of conversations just because he’d caught sight of you outside his office door.

So it wasn’t long before what started as a preoccupation turned into a full-blown fixation.

You’d turn up at his request, poised and professional as always -- and he’d be lost in thought, defiling you a thousand different ways in his head.  Fantasizing about getting his hands on you, his mouth on you, his teeth on you.

You didn’t deserve that.

That’s why Namjoon kept his mouth shut -- stuck in a maddening cycle of wanting to help you, wanting to know you, just wanting you.

All of it made him feel guilty as hell.

*********************

The new girl is a fucking disaster.

Namjoon has yet to figure out how she manages to be underfoot at the most inconvenient times and simultaneously nowhere to be found when she’s needed.  She misplaces files and misses calls and forgets assigned tasks altogether. He’s lost track of the number of times he’s passed her desk to find her taking pictures of herself; lips pouted, angle skewed.

Two weeks ago, she was probably selling tube tops at Incheon Mall and now she’s playing gatekeeper to one of the most powerful men in Seoul.  So it’s not her fault that she’s woefully unprepared for this job.

And it’s not her fault that she’s not you.

Namjoon has spent the better part of the morning debating the call he’s about to make, picking up the phone and setting it back down at least half a dozen times.  But he’s at the end of his rope, running out of patience and options.

So he swallows his pride and picks up the phone just one more time.  

You answer on the first ring.

“Mister Kim.”

God, he’s missed the sound of your voice.  

“Good morning,” he starts carefully, clearing his throat. “I’m certain you have a lot on your plate but I was wondering if you could come sit with the new girl for a few minutes.  She’s struggling a bit.”  

The line is quiet for a moment and Namjoon can practically hear your thoughts on the other end of the line.  The ones that say well that’s what you get for replacing your perfectly competent assistant with a child.

“I left notes,” is the quiet reply that comes instead.

“You did.”

“Detailed notes. Written, detailed notes.”

“Yes,” Namjoon agrees, rubbing his fingers across his mouth.  “I’m certain they were quite detailed.  It’s just that she’s having trouble following those notes because --”  

“Because she can’t read?”

Namjoon cringes.  Any small hope he had that you weren’t taking your reassignment personally dies with the abrupt delivery of that statement.

“Apparently not,” he admits lamely.

He hears the quiet sigh you take in before answering.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

*************************

There’s a moment -- just after Seokjin has walked through his office door -- when Namjoon catches a glimpse of you.

You are leaned over the new girl’s desk, lips pursed, pointing something out on the computer screen.  Namjoon freezes when you look up and lock eyes with him just as the door swings shut.

Christ, is he ever going to be able to look at you without feeling like he’s had the wind knocked out of him?

He turns to find Seokjin staring at him, one brow raised.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon exhales, shoving a hand through his hair as he walks back to his desk.  “I’m fine. You said you wanted to talk about something?”

“I do,” Seokjin starts, helping himself to a seat. “Two things, actually. Both pertaining to the amazing new assistant you so generously gifted me.”

Namjoon’s nails dig into the palm of his hand.

“Go on.”

“Apparently she’s some kind of whiz with numbers,” Seokjin continues, unbothered by his strained response.  “I gave her a few of the books to look over and she already found a couple of our guys in the Songpa district skimming off the top. I’ll bet there’s even more where that came from and she’ll find it.  She’s got a good eye.”

Namjoon feels pride stir in his chest.  Yet again, you exceed expectations.  

“Send Yoongi and Hoseok to Songpa tonight,” he murmurs.  “I’ll be curious to hear what kind of explanation our friends come up with for their lapses in accounting.”

Seokjin nods.

“Will do.  So the other thing --” he pauses for a beat, like he’s trying to figure out how to carefully deliver what he has to say next.  “I know you asked me to try and figure out what’s going on with her and I think I have.  You’re right, she’s struggling with some personal issues.”

Namjoon leans forward in his chair, body rigid.

“Let me hear it.”

*************************

YOU

The new girl is a fucking disaster.

You have yet to figure out why she can’t work the printers or can’t read a simple spreadsheet when you know for fact she knows how to beam her selfies all the way to the goddamned moon.

It’s infuriating.

Just like it’s infuriating to see her seated at what should be your desk, doing what should be your job, working for the man who should be your boss.  

Figure shit out, you’d love to tell her.  Sink or swim, that’s how the real world works.  

The idea of letting her fail so dismally that Namjoon has no choice but to beg for you back is tempting.  But then he’d picked up the phone to personally ask you to help.

And apparently you are incapable of denying that man anything.

You’ve stayed late every day this week to review the spreadsheets Seokjin has given you to audit because of the extra time you’ve had to put aside to help the new girl navigate foreign concepts like filing and scheduling.

The numbers tell an interesting story.

The rumors about Kim Namjoon’s skill as a businessman don’t give him enough credit.  Money is pouring into the Gajog, hand over fist, from every major district in the city.  Billions of won flow into the organization from legitimate and not as legitimate revenue streams alike.  Combine the numbers and Kim Namjoon controls an empire worth trillions.

You stare at the sums and your mind flips back to your unexpected pay raise. It’s no wonder Namjoon can afford to be so generous.

It’s no wonder so many of the street-level men who work for him seem to be helping themselves to more than their fair share.  

It took you a few days to identify the patterns, comparing the new intake sheets to the old ones, but once you did the missing money practically jumped off the page.  Just a few audits in and you’d already been able to find at least 119 million won unaccounted for.

The Kim Namjoon you know is reserved and unflappable -- but this is information that’s bound to piss even him off.  

What is a man like him like when he’s angry?

You shudder at the thought.

Before long, the night sky stares back at you from the window across from your desk and you decide it’s well past time you went home.  You sort everything into neat piles and leave yourself organized notes before packing up to leave.

***************************

There’s no answer from your mother when you call to her from the hallway.  

You frown as you make your way to her bedroom, worry melting away when you find her asleep in her chair.  Her head is bent at a sharp angle, and you immediately move to help her prop her up.

Her eyes open to slits, unfocused from sleep and medication.

“Ttal,” she whispers, grimacing as she straightens out the crick in her neck.

“Eomma,” you whisper in a hushed rebuke. “We’ve talked about this.  You can’t fall asleep in this chair, it’s terrible for you.”

She nods slowly, pointing to a glass of water on her nightstand.  You hand it to her, but it wobbles in her weak grip and you take hold of it to help her drink before setting it aside.

“I’m hurting tonight,” she admits.  

“I know,” you sigh, heart breaking. “Come, let me help you into bed.”

The process is painstaking.  You help hoist her frail frame out of the chair and over to the side of the bed then work carefully to help her lie back.  There’s no meat on her anymore, just skin and bones, so you tuck her blankets carefully around her legs and arms until you’re certain she’s not shivering anymore.

You know this isn’t working.  

It doesn’t matter how many calls you make over the course of a day to check in, or how many well-meaning neighbors drop in to help, leaving your mother alone for hours in this state is a dangerous gamble.  

You fight back tears of frustration.  You grew up without siblings and your father has been gone for years. Being alone is something you’ve had a long time to get used to.  

But you’ve still never felt as alone as you do right now.

You think in the quiet for a while, stroking your fingers across your mother’s upturned palm, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do.  

Unsure of what comes next.

“Kim Namjoon grew up to be such a handsome man,” your mother rasps.

The steady stroke of your fingers comes to an abrupt halt as the fine hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end.

“Excuse me?”

Your mother doesn’t repeat herself.

“Eomma,” you urge, nudging her hand with yours.  “What is this talk of Kim Namjoon?”

Her lips quirk when she closes her eyes like she’s recalling a pleasant memory.

“His mother was beautiful,” she breathes quietly. “God smiled on that boy. He looks nothing like his father.”

The dull panic that’s already started to pulse in your chest sharpens to a point.

She has to be hallucinating.  

She has to be taking too much medicine because nothing she’s saying makes any sense.  You fumble for the bottles on her nightstand, pulling off the caps and pouring the pills out onto the tabletop.  You count them over and over until you’re satisfied your mother hasn’t taken a dangerous amount of drugs.

“Eomma, why are you talking about Kim Namjoon?” you plead. “Help me understand.”

But when you look back to your mother, you realize your words are already falling on deaf ears. She’s slipped back into a sleep state once again.

If only it were that easy for you.

When you finally get to crawl into bed a short while later, you toss and turn all night.  

Somewhere in the haze between asleep and awake you dream of Kim Namjoon.

*************************

Your mother’s mental clarity is always better in the morning.  

After she’s had a night of rest -- and whatever medicine she’s taken has had some time to wear off -- she’s much more alert, much more like her old self.  But you still weren’t able to get anything by way of answers out of her as you made breakfast this morning.

You’d made her favorite cold cucumber soup before carefully broaching the subject of last night’s strange conversation.  You’d waited patiently for some kind of explanation about why she mentioned a man she hasn’t spoken of in years.

It didn’t come.

There was something odd about the way your mother went completely quiet at your mention of Namjoon.  Something odd about how adamant she was about not having any memory of the conversation at all.

That odd look on her face is the one thought on your mind as you make your way to work in a complete fog.  You slip into an open elevator and hit the button for your floor on autopilot.

You don’t even realize that you’re not alone until a soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

“I remember you.”

Your eyes flick up from their unseeing stare at your shoes to a young woman standing against the elevator’s back wall.  

“Miss Kim,” you breathe, brushing an errant hair out of your face.  Your cheeks are still stinging from the cold. “Good morning.”

Namjoon’s sister is a beautiful woman, without a doubt — but until this moment, you hadn’t realized how much she resembles her brother.  They have the same striking features, the same smooth skin and high cheekbones and full lips.  

They share the same dark, kind eyes.

“I remember you now,” she repeats, mouth curving into a smile.  “I knew I recognized you, but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I finally connected the dots.”

“Well, I wasn’t around a lot when we were kids,” you admit shyly. “So that’s certainly understandable.”

“That’s true,” she agrees.  “And I try not to think back to those times a lot but you made an impression on me.  You were always so sweet.”

Your cold cheeks seem to warm at her compliment.

“Thank you.”

The elevator stops at her floor but she seems reluctant to end the conversation.  She leans against the door to prop it open.

“My brother,” she asks carefully, “Is he treating you well?  Is he a fair boss?”

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Well, he’s not my boss anymore,” you admit.  “He replaced me not long ago.  But yes, he was very fair when I worked for him.”

Her lips part in a soft gesture of surprise when you deliver that news.  

She’s quiet until the elevator blares a loud reminder that it’s time to close the doors.  She smiles at you on her way out the door, opting not to comment on the quality of her brother’s staffing decisions.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmurs. “But I’m still really glad you’re here.”

****************************

An inviting scent is the first thing you notice when you get home that night.  

The second thing you notice are the voices.

You make your way down the long hallway with careful steps, trying to place the sound of the voice coming from your mother’s bedroom.  It doesn’t sound like Mrs. Sim -- in fact, it doesn’t sound like anyone you know.

You stop short at the sight that greets you when you round the corner.

A woman -- a complete stranger is in your mother’s room.

You stand frozen in shock as you watch the stranger read to your mother from her seated position in the chair next to the bed.  She looks up from the page when she realizes you’re there, giving you a better look at her pleasant, aged face.

“Aish,” she startles, clapping a hand over her chest.  “Here I was, worried about scaring you and instead you’re the one giving me a fright.”

It takes you a moment to find your voice.

“Forgive me,” you start weakly, “But who are you?  And how did you get into this house?”

The woman stands to adjust the pillow under your mother’s head before meeting you in the doorway.  “She’s resting now,” she says, nodding at your mother’s still form on the bed.  “Why don’t we talk in the kitchen?”

Should you be screaming right now? Calling the police?  

There’s no good explanation for why you do neither and decide instead to follow this complete stranger into your kitchen instead.  She walks to the stove to stir whatever she has cooking in the pot.

“Get off those feet,” she admonishes kindly. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

Again you comply, inexplicably following orders.  

“I made Budae Jjigae,” she explains, ladling some of the stew into a bowl.  She sets it down in front of you, and you stare back at her like an idiot.  The stew smells amazing, and you’re immediately hit with a well-timed hunger pang.

“Who are you?” you ask again.

“My name is Jinjoo,” she replies sweetly, handing you a spoon.  “And I work for you now.”

“You work for me,” you repeat slowly.

“I do,” Jinjoo nods.  “Mister Kim hired me.”

The spoon clatters loudly against the lip of the bowl when you drop it.  For a moment, it’s hard to breathe. You have to wait for the strange sensation that snakes up your spine to subside before you speak again.

“Mister Kim.”  You echo her again, dumbly.

Jinjoo takes a seat next to you at the table, radiating a patient kindness that makes you want to give into the urge to trust her.  She smiles reassuringly at you, voice soothing when she speaks again.

“Yes. He said you needed help with your mother, and I can understand why.  I nursed in hospitals for decades, dear.  I can see your mother is in a bad way.”

You blink back at Jinjoo in stunned silence.

“I assure you, I’ll give your mother the best quality care,” she vows, patting one of your hands with her own.  “And Mister Kim has already paid me well in advance, so don’t even think about trying to get rid of me.”

That statement almost makes you laugh.  

You don’t want to get rid of Jinjoo at all.  Ten minutes ago you had no idea she existed and in the span of one conversation she’s become one of the most important people you know.  Tears well in your eyes as you stare into your bowl of stew, at a total loss for words.  

Jinjoo seems to sense how overwhelmed you are.  She gives you some space to process what’s going on, stroking one soft hand over your shoulder when she stands to leave.

“Eat something, dear.  I’m gonna go sit with your mother for a while.”

You look up at her with watery eyes and nod, reaching for the spoon.

“This smells really good,” you say softly.

“Well, I’m a great cook.  You’ll see,” she promises.

“Jinjoo -- “ you call out after her as she walks away.  “Thank you,” you manage, voice thick with emotion.  “I can’t thank you enough.”

The corners of her eyes crinkle when her mouth curves into a smile.

“You’re welcome.”

**********************

Jinjoo’s stew was delicious -- not that you had the chance to fully appreciate it.  

You’d sat in that kitchen alone for some time, eating slowly while you tried to process yet another bombshell in what seemed to be a series of them.  Everything that’s happened to you since Namjoon reassigned you has been a whirlwind; from the sudden pay raise to the sudden arrival of Jinjoo.

You eat the last of the stew with your stomach in knots.

Namjoon knows your mother is sick.  And you don’t know how to feel about it.

A part of you feels exposed when you think about him uncovering the sad details of your mother’s health battle. But knowing that he stepped in to help you fight it makes you feel something you haven’t felt in years.  

Cared for.

The sound of laughter from your mother’s bedroom echoes down the hall and you stand to follow it.  

Her favorite variety show is playing on the small TV in front of her bed, and it appears Jinjoo is a fan, too.  You lean in the doorway and watch the women giggle at the silly skit.  It’s been a long time since you’ve heard the sound of your mother’s laugh.  

It makes you smile.

“Jinjoo, could you give us a moment, please?”

You almost hate to interrupt the instant camaraderie between the two women but you recognize that your mother is in the midst of a rare moment of clarity.  You have to strike while the iron is hot.

“Of course,” she agrees, standing.

You wait until the sound of her footsteps fades away before taking her place in the worn chair next to your mother’s bed.  Your mother smiles at you, taking one of your hands into her own.  

You squeeze her fingers gently.

“Eomma, no more secrets,” you murmur.  “Tell me the truth.  Did Kim Namjoon come here?”

Your mother swallows thickly before nodding.

“He asked me not to tell you,” she admits.  “He said he didn’t want you to refuse his help.”

You shut your eyes and imagine Namjoon in your home, in this room. Speaking to your mother.  Making plans to send Jinjoo.  Your chest squeezes so tight that for a moment it’s hard to breathe.

“Okay,” you concede quietly.  You maintain the appearance of careful calm because you don’t want to make your mother feel worse than she already does., “It’s alright Eomma, I’m not angry, I promise.”

A peculiar look passes over her face.  Her eyes dart away from yours and that’s all it takes for you to know you don’t have the full story.  You decide to toughen your stance.

“Look at me, Eomma,” you say firmly.  “If there’s anything I don’t know, you need to tell me right now.  I need to know all of it.  Everything.”

“I -- “

“Just tell me what it is,” you repeat, patience hanging by a thread.

Your mother sighs, lifting one weak hand in the direction of her dresser.  You turn to stare at the pile of papers stacked there, realization dawning in an instant.  You move on unsteady legs to walk over and take hold of them.

Radiology, pulmonology, chemotherapy.  

You know exactly how much is owed on each of those bills because the numbers are burned into your mind. Those numbers are the reason you leave your mother for hours on end every day to go to work.  Those numbers are the reason why it’s so hard to sleep at night.

You don’t realize that your hands are shaking until you hear the papers rustling.

Every bill bears the same neat, handwritten marking.

paid -- knj

***************************

NAMJOON

Namjoon watched his sister leave early tonight with Hoseok. Seokjin is out to dinner with his wife.  And Yoongi is off doing -- well, whatever the hell Yoongi does when he’s not around.

There’s no one here tonight to tell Namjoon to go home.  No one to point out that he’s had too much to drink or that it’s happening far too often.

So he pours another scotch.

The glass sweats in his hand as he stands in front of his window, deep in thought.

Thinking about you.

Thinking about the way you struggled in silence, caring for your mother alone -- too proud to ask for help. The way you catered to Namjoon’s every need and whim without ever making mention of yours.  The way he’d let it go on for far too long, selfishly wrapped up in the way you made him feel.

“That girl is going to get you killed.”

Namjoon tells himself the sound of your voice is a figment of his imagination, an entirely predictable side-effect of too much scotch.  But it’s followed quickly by your soft footsteps against the plush carpet in his office and both sounds are too real to ignore.

He turns to assess you, quietly sipping his drink.

Fuck, you are beautiful.  

You have no right turning up here tonight -- looking like that -- testing him when he is at his weakest.  Your dark eyes flash with something like a challenge and Namjoon feels his blood warm.

“That girl is never at her desk and she has no idea who’s coming or going,” you accuse quietly.  “She’s putting you at risk.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow half-smirk that teases the edge of his mouth.

“Perhaps,” he admits.  “But there are different kinds of risk.  Maybe you put me at risk, too.”

He shouldn’t take pleasure from the way your eyes go wide at that statement.  Or from the way you overcompensate by standing taller, chin lifted high.

But he does.

“Mister Kim -- “ you start.

“ -- Namjoon,” he interrupts.  “Don’t you think it’s time you called me Namjoon? Haven’t we known one another since we were kids?”

“Namjoon,” you correct yourself, taking a deep breath. “I know about everything.  Jinjoo, the bills, all of it.”

Namjoon says nothing for a moment, draining his glass before setting it down on his desk with a heavy thud.

“Why?” you ask quietly.  “Why did you do this for me?”

Because I would do anything for you.  

He doesn’t voice that thought out loud.  He knows he shouldn’t.

But he also knows he shouldn’t be closing the distance between you right now, and he’s doing that anyway.  He steps closer, quietly, and you swallow hard, thrown by his silence and his advance.

“That’s not -- that’s not something you do for an employee,” you protest, slowly backing away.  You stop only when the ledge of his desk hits you on the backside.  

“The late nights and the extra hours.  Everything else you did,” Namjoon murmurs, stepping close, chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.  “Did you do that for your boss?  Or did you do that for me?”

He leans closer, caging your body against his desk.  Your lips part in surprise and Namjoon forces himself not to react when your tongue slips out to wet them.

“Namjoon, I -- ” your voice is barely above a whisper when you find it.  “-- I don’t understand you right now.”

“How could I have every resource at my fingertips and not help you?” he asks, reaching one hand out to cup your face.  The pad of his thumb ghosts over your lips and you shudder under his touch.  “Why didn’t you come to me when you knew I could help?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, pupils blown and cheeks flushed.

“You should have come to me,” he admonishes quietly.  You lean into the touch of his hand.  “I would have given you anything you asked for. Anything.”

“I understand that,” you say quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying your attempt at calm.  “Because I would give you anything you asked for, too.”

Something about the way you say that snaps Namjoon back to reality.  

He looks down at you like he’s only just now realized that he’s loaded on scotch, leaning you over his desk -- and well on his way to taking advantage of this situation.  He tenses, pulling away.

“This is -- this is not --” he sputters pathetically for a moment.  “Go home,” he pleads.  “Please.”

He’s never hated himself as much as he does right now -- when you’re looking up at him with hurt and confusion in those wide, dark eyes.

“Go home before I do something I can’t take back.”

************************

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[inevitablesurrender]

“I’m taking a break from music.”  I insisted before I finally got back to updating the fucking spreadsheet because I have so much random in-progress stuff that I need a fucking spreadsheet to keep track of it all.  ...19 new actual files (meaning more than one track on each; the basis for an “actual song”) since the last album release... with a whole hell of a lot left in various states of doing... and 11 new guitar bits and baubles that I just “musically jotted down” to remember for later.  ...Won’t even get into notebook pages and work documents.  ...Welp.  No complaints, just making up for lost time apparently.  Almost... almost ready to start collaborating.  Maybe.

Also meant to take more time off after chocobo making, but I’ve been getting to various clothing alterations that have been piling up.  Some of them are practical, I swear.  ...Most of them are not.  I believe my exact words have been “Fuck it, I’m gonna leave a badly-dressed corpse no matter the circumstances.”  I continue to be a little irritated at triple-checking measurements before buying a thing only to discover that it’s definitely not for people with a single muscle in their arm, though.  Might just Hulk rip through a particular fucking jacket one day, but that will enormously add to the aesthetic.  ...First I have to figure out how to accomplish what I want to do with it.

...Then I’d like to get back to beadwork for a bit while completely ignoring the fact that both materials and shipping costs have made easy re-ordering whenever I actually need something a little more impossible.  Whee.  But I am deliriously entertained by the fact that I’m setting up a leather for beads trade with a fellow artisan.

Also accidentally timed chili seed germination and heat waves correctly and now I have several new seedlings.  Whoops.

[winterscaptain]

directors cut on metanoia! it’s one of my favorites for some reason

you ask and i deliver!! metanoia, with commentary, under the cut with my commentary in bold italics

up next: redamancy!!

warnings: discussion of miscarriage 

“Alright, team. This week we’re headed back to Terra Mesa, AZ, for a series of murders at the university.” Penelope stood in front of the screen, outlining the recent crime scene photos as the rest of you looked through the case files. “Some of the residents at the Apache reservation nearby were injured in one of the attacks, and the presumed killer is leaving tokens around the reservation that are currently being treated as threats.” 

Finding an excuse to get back to Terra Mesa was hard, but I managed to figure out something that would be big enough for the BAU to make an appearance without involving other federal authorities. 

Any excuse to see Blackwolf is a welcome one, and I really wanted to bring him back into our world in AJF. He’s such a fantastic character and frankly it’s a crime we only saw him once. 

You all looked to Emily, who nodded once, and the team stood with her. “I’ll start with Derek at the reservation, and visit our old friend John Blackwolf, while the rest of you start building on what they’ve got at the precinct. Wheels up in thirty.” 

+++

Moments before the plane landed, your phone rang. You answered it before the rest of the team could see the name. “L/N...Speaking…Really?” Your voice didn’t give much away, but the team was listening in anyway. “Thank you...I’m currently out of town for work. Can I give you a call when I get home?...Great. Thanks...Yeah, I’ll be in touch.”

Looking back, this was before I moved to present tense and phased out “Y/N” and “L/N” conventions. Oh well. I’ll get over it eventually. 

That’s what the writing process is for, though, right? It’s always changing and always growing. 

You hung up and sat back in your seat. You did your best to school your expression into something pensive and neutral as you stared out the window. 

Pregnant. Again. Fuck.

Elation, fear, anxiety, and anticipation all warred within you. You hadn’t breathed a word to Aaron, even when you realized you were late, or suddenly didn’t like the smell of your own body wash. It seemed reasonable to keep it from him until you were absolutely sure. 

Reading this back while working on the Reality Check trilogy was a trip - I really wanted to lay a foundation for these emotions warring within Mom in this moment and explain why it was so hard to tell Aaron. 

I think I did alright?? 

A false alarm, or worse, would be a damning disappointment. 

+++

You were admittedly distracted as you went through the motions at the crime scene. A fog clouded your head, and you’d zoned out more than once as JJ tried to engage you in conversation. After a while, she decided to leave you alone, only returning when she was finished discussing MO with the officers outside. 

JJ crouched beside you as you took a few more photos. “You alright?”

My dumb ass forgot JJ was eight months pregnant here, but it’s fine. She’s athletic enough to crouch and stand up if she’s careful. 

It was when I was reading this back that I decided to put all the episode/canon notes into a big spreadsheet to keep track of shit. My brain is a sieve. 

“Just fine, Jayje.” Your voice sounded tired even to your own ears. 

She didn’t buy it. Her hand rose to your upper arm, squeezing a little. “I’m here if you need anything, okay? You know that.” 

You nodded. “I know.” 

“I’m serious. Anything.” She leaned in close to you. “And it all stays with me. Nothing goes to Hotch unless you tell me it’s okay.”

This was a line of dialogue looking to include somewhere as well. There’s always that element of discretion because they all work together. Because Hotch was unit chief for so long, there’s always that feeling that mom (or anyone else) could tattle without realizing it. 

I originally had this in a really early one of my fics, when I had Reader joining the team in season one and she and Hotch were married already, but it was scrapped and shuffled into pieces that actually made sense. It was a profiler, profiled episode where mom looked at Derek and said “I’m not my husband. You don’t have to hide from me. Anything you tell me stays right here between us unless you want me to talk to him about it.”

No matter what iteration of Reader I’m working with, there’s always a kinship with Derek. Not sure why. Maybe it’s because I feel like he’s slept on within the fandom? Idk I just love him and want him to have friends and adequate support all the time. He and Hotch are such strong folks and it’s a shame the CM writers don’t know how to use the great characters they’ve created. 

You bumped her shoulder with yours. “Thanks.” 

Thoughts raced around in your head on repeat. There was part of you that wanted to tell Aaron right away, just step out and call him right then. Another part of you couldn’t fathom putting him at risk for that kind of loss again. Not after the first time. 

What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, and you could handle it on your own, right? It wouldn’t be so bad to wait another few weeks? Just until the end of the first trimester. 

+++

Three days into the case with very little progress, the director was under pressure to have this case solved, and solved quickly. Working closely with the Native American community was good PR for the FBI - failing to solve a case as more university students were murdered was decidedly not.

Thus, Aaron was flown in from Quantico Hello, passive voice! Nice to see you! to oversee the investigation, and act as a liaison for additional support, should it become necessary. I had to figure out how to get Section Chief Aaron out here...Once again, your emotions were at war. It was always a delight to have him by your side in the field, but he’d know something was on your mind. If he asked you outright, you couldn’t - wouldn’t - lie to him. 

Aaron arrived at the precinct faster than you expected. He held back a smile when he saw you, electing to re-introduce himself to the police chief and make nice before formally stepping in as the FBI authority on-site. You were the only member of the team that didn’t already know everyone - the Terra Mesa cult killings were before your time at the BAU, and indeed even before your time at the FBI. 

This was before I had a “real” ajf timeline, so I sprinkled little things in here to help myself when I actually sat down and put it all together. 

Emily had you bouncing between the crime scene and the precinct, so you had yet to visit the reservation. The infamous Blackwolf was still a mystery to you, but you’d heard a great deal about him from Aaron. 

“Hotch, Y/N, can you take a trip to the reservation to see how Spencer and JJ are getting along? We want to make sure we’re doing everything we can to work collaboratively with Blackwolf, and I’m sure another familiar face would go a long way.” 

In the car, Aaron held your hand. It was nice to have him out in the field, a rare occurrence these days. You often missed him during the longer cases, but it was much more fun to talk about your day when he wasn’t beside you for most (if not all) of it. 

My mom just said something about this regarding quarantine - she’s like “it’s so boring to tell your dad what I did all day while we were...sitting next to each other working from home.” 

I laughed. 

Unlike Strauss, he was very-hands off with the units under his jurisdiction, and it worked. It kept him out of the field and on the good side of the unit chiefs. The section was performing beautifully, with few bureaucratic hangups and even fewer infractions. About halfway through the drive, a smile crossed his face. 

Any opportunity to emphasize that Aaron is really capable of taking over the bureau is an opportunity I’m going to seize. 

“What’s funny?” You asked, laughing a little. There was something warm in your chest that bloomed whenever Aaron smiled, and the joy usually bubbled out of your mouth - often without permission. The rare treat almost made you forget about the rock in your stomach. Almost. 

“I want to see something when we get to the reservation.”

“Oh?”

He nodded, a secret little smile still on his lips. “Just trust me and follow my lead.”

You scoffed. “Don’t I always?” You paused, and he raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth. “Wait. Don’t answer that.” 

And thus a very early indicator of their dynamic is exposed…

This is the fun thing about writing out of order - there’s something so exciting about going back and reading stuff when you’re building up to a certain point and finding the groundwork you’ve already established. It’s like building the roof of the house before the foundation and then you’ve suddenly got a whole house. It’s cool. 

He smiled at you before schooling his expression into his normal resting skepticism and removed his hand from yours as you approached the reservation. You wiped the pout off your face after a moment, falling into the professional modality you’d developed prior to Aaron’s promotion, when you had to keep your hands each other in the field. 

Those years were brutal. 

Brutal, indeed, and I can WAIT to explore them further!! We’ve got three years where mom and Aaron work together on the same team before he’s promoted and I’m so excited to see how that dynamic works out once the team is made aware of their relationship. 

You placed your sunglasses on top of your head as you stepped out of the car and followed Aaron to the reservation school. 

“Hotchner.” A handsome, well-built man with an impressive knife on his belt called out to you from across the courtyard, and a small smile broke out across Aaron’s face. 

“Blackwolf.” 

They exchanged firm handshakes, and Blackwolf’s attention fell to you. You watched as his eyes quickly jumped from your face, to your gun, to your engagement ring and down to your shoes, before returning to your eyes. 

I LOVE JOHN BLACKWOLF!!!

“Agent Y/N L/N. Your reputation precedes you,” you said with a smile and an extended hand. 

Blackwolf snorted, but took your hand in a firm, warm grasp. “I’m sure it does, if Agent Hotchner here has anything to do with it.” He glanced at the both of you and turned. “Follow me.” 

If we don’t start with snark when we meet Blackwolf, what do we have left? 

Nothing. 

He took you around the reservation, explaining the possible weaknesses in defense should the serial killer jump the highway. You and Aaron trailed a little behind him as you walked, but Blackwolf never looked back as he spoke. 

He was explaining the possible positions of an attack from the hill, and the possibility that their assailant could attack from any direction, but “...that shouldn’t be an issue for Agent L/N.” He glanced back at Aaron, the first time he’d done so. “Was it your influence that inspired your fiance to carry two guns, or did she start doing that on her own?”

THIS LINE RIGHT HERE is what started this whole fic for me. I thought of including John in AJF really early on, and I knew right off the bat that Aaron was going to trick him and not tell him that he and Reader are together as a kind of test. This moment always existed as John passing that test with flying colors. 

You glanced up at Aaron, eyes wide and alarmed. Aaron only smiled at you and replied, “I taught her. She carries hers -”

“On the offside, I know,” he finished. “It’s smart, if you’re into that sort of thing.” 

Aaron huffed a laugh. “Don’t start.” 

You sputtered a little, and you lost step with them for a moment before jogging to Aaron’s side. “Hold on, back up. How did you…?” You were speechless, to say the least, and you could tell Aaron was doing everything in his power to keep from laughing out loud. 

This scene was so alive in my head, and I’m really pleased with how it turned out. There were like eight or nine different versions of this dialogue I worked on before settling on this one. 

Finally, Blackwolf stopped and faced you, gesturing to you as you spoke. “Just like with Agent Hotchner’s left, your right step is slightly heavier, and you favor your right arm for balance when you walk. When you walk beside him, you’re on his right, placing your weapons on the outside of your frames for the best defense. Now, whether or not you do that on purpose I don’t know, but it’s an inherently protective posture.”

You blinked rapidly for a moment, adjusting to the onslaught of information. “How did you know I was engaged to him?” You threw a thumb in Aaron’s direction. 

He raised an eyebrow, and a smile ghosted across his face. “Can’t give away all my secrets, now, can I?” 

The truth of it? I have no fucking clue how he’d figure that one out so I just left in another “Blackwolf Magic” moment. 

A laugh left you. “That’s fair enough.” 

He opened his mouth and took a breath as if to speak again but closed it, squinting at you. You swallowed, feeling very exposed all of a sudden. His face transformed then, as if he’d realized something. “You should ask Agent Hotchner about perception. He may have learned a few things since last I saw him.” 

This was almost the big reveal, but then I realized John would have more tact than that. And it also wouldn’t be long enough, not to mention deeply unprofessional :)

You looked up at Aaron, but he only rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his friend and kept walking. 

+++

The way Aaron was around Blackwolf made your chest hurt a little less. They were like a pair of kid brothers - giving each other a hard time and cracking wise whenever they got the opportunity. Weak insults like “Captain America” and “Fortune Cookie” ran abound when out of earshot from the local officers, but there was a kind of deep respect and hard-won warmth that flowed freely through all their interactions. 

“What happened the last time you were out here?” You asked Aaron, on the way back from the university one night. 

Aaron looked at the road as he replied with a quirk of his lips. “I learned something.” He reached for your hand, and you held his in both of your own, kissing his knuckles. 

I really believe Aaron learned so much out in Terra Mesa in season one. There’s such a distinctive, yet subtle, shift between the Aaron who rolls up completely skeptical and the Aaron who’s willing to accept that “there are many roads that lead to the same place.” 

I LIVE FOR MEN WHO TEACH AND CHALLENGE EACH OTHER!!! 

+++

It was only when you were alone with Blackwolf, days later, scouting terrain on the border between the university and the reservation, did you ask him. “Were you going to say something earlier, on the first day Hotch was here?”

I love it when Mom calls Aaron “Hotch” at work, even when they’re alone. Makes me all soft. 

He nodded, crouched and studied the thicket-lined path. “I was.” 

You waited patiently and did your best to see what he saw. It was a hopeless endeavor. All you saw was a well-worn path surrounded by bushes of indistinguishable varieties.

“I was going to ask you when you’re due, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” He looked up at you with a crooked little smile. “Congratulations.” 

How on Earth…

Breathless laughter punctuated your next words. “Okay, I knew it was a possibility that Aaron had told you we were together, but I haven’t breathed a word about that to anyone...yet.” You sobered for a minute, thinking of the last time. 

He must have seen your face drop, because he stood and placed a hand on your shoulder. There was an understanding in his eyes, gentle and familiar. He treated you like he’d known you all your life, and you were grateful he took you as seriously as he did Aaron. “How many?”

There were so many options for this exchange as well, but I ended up loving the simplest one. There isn’t much that he needs to say. There’s a connection, I believe between Blackwolf and Hotch, and I wanted to extend that link to mom as well. 

Your lip quivered and your eyes stung. You swallowed, doing your best to keep it together. “Just the one.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

You whispered your thanks and smiled a watery smile at him before wiping your eyes and getting back to business. “Did you see anything of use over here?”

He dropped his hand from your shoulder and followed your eyes down the path. “No, nothing here. We should track back to the reservation and see if our guest left anything new for us to find.” 

You turned, but a hand on your forearm stopped you. “You and Aaron are more alike than different in this, I think, so I’ll tell you this.” You met his eyes, and he seemed to almost look through you as he spoke. “Some things are meant to be carried together. Joy and grief are two of those things that are too heavy to bear on your own. Tell him today.” He released your arm and continued ahead as if he’d said nothing at all. 

There’s so much respect in accepting someone’s vulnerability, and then moving forward. It’s doesn’t change how that person sees the other. It’s just human. It’s part of them, and it doesn’t need to color every interaction from that point forward. 

My best friend calls these “so noted” moments. You just take the note and move on. 

After a moment, you followed him. 

The man really is like a fortune cookie. 

But he’s right. 

+++

You returned to the precinct with a lighter step than before, Blackwolf on your heels. Aaron squinted at you as you walked in, and you could tell he knew something had changed. 

Emily and Derek flew through the door behind you, and John pulled you back by the elbow to avoid getting run over in their haste. 

Contact!! I wanted to establish a little more familiarity between reader and John after their conversation. It was vulnerable and shifted their boundaries just enough for Aaron to notice. 

“We have a lead. Get roadblocks up now,” Emily had her phone out and was on the phone with JJ, who was at the university with Spencer. She spit instructions in only the way she could, and Aaron was hot on your heels as Emily tossed you the car keys and you all flooded out of the building. 

The takedown was decidedly eventful, and JJ got a black eye for her trouble. Dave took care of her by the ambulance while Emily directed traffic. You got caught up taking a few statements from the neighbors, and it was late evening by the time you were all on your way back to the hotel. 

In the car, Aaron was quiet. Your hands were linked over the center console, and he rubbed little circles into your skin. 

“What’s going on with you, honey?” He knew better than to look at you while he asked, but his circles never ceased or stuttered or hiccuped on your hand. 

You sighed. “Can I tell you when we’re back at the hotel?”

He nodded. “So, something is on your mind?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good, bad?” His tone was prompting, but not pushy, and you appreciated it. 

You tried to offer him a smile. “Good, I think.” 

He squeezed your hand. 

Again, any little moment where I can just let the implication speak for itself is one I’m going to grab. They don’t need to be crazy verbose or explain themselves. They just get it. 

And they TRUST EACH OTHER!

+++

You dropped down into the middle of the bed, crossing your legs. Aaron sat across from you, mirroring you with his legs crossed and his hands loose on his knees. 

Pajamas were on, teeth brushed, and you were both ready for bed. 

You heaved a deep breath. “So, John said something to me today that had me thinking.”

Aaron’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “He has that effect on people.” 

“So I’ve heard.” You took his hands. “He said to me today that there are some things that are meant to be carried together, and that joy and grief are two of those things.” 

I’d like to think the way Reader started this conversation really freaked him out, but he does his best to stay cool and I’m really proud of him. 

His eyes were soft and patient as he waited for you to continue, his mouth relaxed. 

“My doctor called today -”

“Are you alright?” He couldn't help but interrupt, and a little huff of a laugh left you. 

Ah. There it is. He can’t help himself. 

Can you blame him?

“Yeah, I’m fine. She just wanted to tell me I’m due in March, is all.” You let the words tumble out as casually as possible, but your shaky breath betrayed you. 

Aaron was quiet for a moment, just looking at you. After what felt like forever, he pulled you forward by your hands, and you crawled into the hollow haven of his body. His hand traced over your arm, the other resting over your temple, as if to hide you from the world. 

“Are you upset?” You asked, your voice small. 

You felt him shake his head. “Not even a little. In fact, quite the opposite.” He kissed your hair. “How are you feeling?”

The lack of big response was really important to me. If he’s gotten really excited, I think mom would have felt undue pressure, and I think he knew that. 

It’s another moment where I got to show that Aaron fully understand what she needs at any given point, and that fact itself isn’t necessarily significant enough to be acknowledged on its own. It’s tacit. 

Your fingers wrapped around his arm, and he took his hand from your face, curling his arm around your waist. “I’m really happy, but I’m really scared too...I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. “I just - I don’t want to fuck it up this time.” 

His hands stilled, and he grew quiet, his voice low. “What?”

“I don’t want to lose this one and I was scared to tell you because if I told you and we lost him, you would be sad and I just don’t want you to be sad and I don’t want you to lose anyone else, ever.” You weren’t sure you were coherent, but that just about summed it up. 

That’s the wild thing about grief, you know? It puts all these wild stories in your head that it’s your fault, even when people you love tell you otherwise. 

I think even after faith, and even after how well Aaron handled the loss - so supportive and affirming the whole time - there’s this doubt that she’s not good enough, that she could have done something differently. 

It’s a doubt Aaron recognizes in himself, and it breaks his heart. 

“Baby, look at me.” 

You leaned back and met his eyes. He held your gaze as he spoke, almost unblinking. “You did not fuck anything up. It was not your fault. These things happen, and yes, they’re sad. Yes, I grieve for the child I didn’t get a chance to meet. Yes, it’s painful. But honey,” there was a desperate edge to his voice and he wiped your tears away with his thumbs, “you’re my partner and I love you. You don’t have to go through anything alone ever again.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.” 

He pulled you close again, tight to his chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

He completely understands. I mean, he’s the guy that kept his separation from his team for weeks without breathing a word. He knew that they would be there for him, but he just thought he could do it on his own. 

These idiots are made for each other, I swear. 

(Well, they are….)

You were quiet for a little while. Then - 

“Did you say him?” Aaron’s voice was nearly trembling. Because you knew him so well, you knew it was barely-contained euphoria. You knew he was holding back because he didn’t want to scare you, didn’t want to get too excited in case something went wrong, but his efforts were futile. You saw right through them, and hoped his joy would last and that the worst was behind you. 

That’s love and trust, babey! 

You turned your head, pressing your nose into his neck. “Just a feeling. I dunno.” 

He sighed, his arms winding impossibly further around you. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” 

You nodded into him. 

“When’s your ten-week?”

“Two weeks, on Wednesday.” 

His breath washed through your hair as he pressed his cheek to the crown of your head. “Can I come with you?”

He’s learned so much and I cry about it regularly. I just watched that episode where Haley calls him because she’s at Jack’s doctors appointment and he’s not there and he just screws out up and had a big weep about it. 

You nodded. 

When you woke up in the morning, You were still curled in his arms, on top of the covers, with the lights on. Aaron’s face was pressed into your hair and his body was flush against yours from shoulder to calf. 

One of his (truly massive) hands rested over the waistband of your pajama bottoms. 

It’s going to be okay. 

That concludes this installment! I LOVED going back through this one with a fine-toothed comb. Definitely one of my favorites in this series. I’m so glad so many of you love it like I do!!

[kokobussy]

The New Guy

summary - you don’t know anything about computers, but what you do know is the new guy is pretty cute.

warnings - dom!minseok x reader, humiliation, breath play, exhibitionism, deep throat, sloppy blow job, consensual light slapping

Finally got around to making a sequel. It’s here

“Have you seen the new guy?” Sehun leans against your desk with a glint in his eye and a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. Not too long ago the two of you were interns at the company, grabbing coffees for your supervisors and meticulously filing away important documents together. As your careers advanced and old co-workers left, the two of you were nearly inseparable.

“New guy?”

“He’s the new IT guy. A little on the short end, but his eyes are to die for?”

You’d heard this one before. It’s not that Sehun is the office slut, he’s just...the office slut.

There’s no shame in sleeping around as long as safe sex is thoroughly practiced. At this point in both of your careers, Sehun’s slept with almost everyone in the office including you. It wasn’t planned at all by either side, just a spontaneous fuck during a Queer as Folk marathon on Sehun’s couch.

Sure the sex was great, but your friendship was even better and you wanted to cherish that.

“What’s his name?” you ask feigning interest as you scroll through a colorful Buzzfeed quiz. Sehun rolls his eyes,”How the hell should I know? I saw him. He’s cute and he just might be your type.” Your co-worker and best friend stares at you pointedly before you can even dismiss him altogether. “Look, I know you better than anyone else and you’ve been going through a lot lately. Just... treat yourself.”

Once you realize Sehun isn’t going to let this go, you sigh and finally turn away from the computer once the quiz reveals you’re more of a Ross than a Joey. “He just started working here, Sehun, it’s inappropriate.” Sehun scowls in response and takes a sip from the mug,”You sound like Junmyeon.”

“That’s Mr. Kim when we’re in the office, Sehun, you don’t know who’s listening.”

Kim Junmyeon is one of the top dogs that works here at the company. You’ve only seen him at huge holiday parties from afar, in passing in the elevator a few times, and once when you picked up coffee in the lobby of your building a little earlier than usual. You mostly “saw” Junmyeon through impersonal mass emails clearly written by his secretary. He seems like a natural born leader, an intelligent man with charisma and a great smile. Someone who-

“Actually he prefers daddy.”

There’s a pause as Sehun looks around the office to let that statement process and takes yet another too long sip of his coffee, eyes pretending to find interest over at Byun’s cubicle once he reveals he’s blown up his own spot.

“Sehun.”

“Hmm?”

“You slept with Mr. Kim?”

“Uh,” and before you can berate him or ask him any more questions Sehun is gone, suddenly finding interest in getting those reports sent out at his desk.

Before you can throw staples at him and demand more information, your supervisor makes her way around the office to check up on everyone’s work progress. So instead of drawing attention to yourself or starting another quiz, you bring up the spreadsheets that you should’ve been working on and pretend to work diligently for the next few minutes.

Those next few minutes actually end up being on solid productive hour, the spreadsheets actually completed before the end of the day. You decide to reward yourself with a few more Buzzfeed quizzes and just as you’re about to start clicking, you hear a soft,”Is this computer #425?”

You look up to see a shirt tucked into grey slacks. You look up further to see a man with long black hair and large excitable eyes hidden behind thick rimmed glasses. The man smiles once you stare up at his face, “I’m Minseok! I’m with the IT department and I got a call about a virus being on this floor’s servers. I just need to look over your computer for a second.” Virus? IT department? Your computer is being a little slow, but not virus slow. You look over to the pink sticky note on the cubicle wall, reading the numbers “411”, and look back at the cute tech guy. He’s too cute to pass up. Way too cute. “Yeah,” you say slowly,”this is 425.” Minseok smiles, trusting you entirely,”do you mind scooting over?”

You stand promptly, moving out of the way so he can sit down in your seat. “I’m Y/N by the way. I’m not sure what I did, but my computer is super slow,” you say desperate for small talk,”A lot of other people have been complaining too.” Have you talked to anyone today besides Sehun and now Minseok? No. Were other people actually complaining about the lagging computers? Probably.

He nods solemnly, typing things you’ve never seen before into a small black window now on your computer with green colored font. It’s only then that you notice the 16 Buzzfeed tabs just behind that black window and you know in your heart Minseok has seen them, but isn’t saying anything. “We think someone accidentally uploaded a Trojan that spread throughout the serves. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

You huff as you lean against your desk to get a better look at what exactly Minseok is doing, not that you’d understand anyway,”Probably Kris. He watches porn on his lunch break when he thinks no one is paying attention, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Minseok stifles a laugh, covering his mouth to hide his grin before returning to the keyboard.  

That laughter makes Sehun look up to see what’s going on at your desk. Once he sees who is it, he waves his hands in a subtle yet jerky way that immediately grabs your attention from across the office. Sehun holds up a hand to cover his mouth from Baekhyun’s prying eyes over at the desk next to him and mouths,”That’s him.”

This goes on for a few minutes, you trying to figure out what exactly Sehun is saying and Sehun getting more and more aggravated by the minute, but when Minseok suddenly gets up and grabs his messenger bag your attention is entirely on him again.

“We’re gonna be working on all of the computers tonight so this’ll be fixed by tomorrow morning.” Minseok says his goodbyes, eyes lingering on your form little too long, and heads back down the hallway.

As soon as he's gone, Sehun jogs over from his desk and smacks you on the shoulder,"You stupid asshole, tell me everything."

It’s around 10pm when you rush back into your office building. You'd been out getting drinks with Sehun when you remembered the important documents you left on your desk for your presentation at the end of the week. As you walk into the office space and make your way over to your cubicle, you see a figure sitting there typing away furiously at the black screen. "Minseok?"

He nearly falls out of his chair from the closeness of your voice, just behind him, and shouts almost accusingly,”Y/N?”

You blink before laughing,”yeah sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The two of you talk for a while, nonsensical things and general topics that lead to heated conversations about how underrated frozen yogurt is, and you soon lose track of time. Somehow in that time, you didn’t notice Minseok’s flushed face or his slightly unbuttoned shirt. You didn’t notice it until Minseok shifted just a little, fingers fidgeting with the buttons on his iphone and consequently turning the sound on.

High pitched moans and the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin fill the once quiet office. Minseok’s horrified, scrambling to get rid of the porn playing on his phone, but you can’t help squeezing your legs and trying to ease the ache between your legs. It’s hot. Him blushing his hardest and giving you apology after apology is hot. Maybe Sehun is right, maybe you do need to treat yourself.

Minseok keeps apologizing, unable to even look you in the eye and realize you’re taking off your jacket and kicking off your heels. By the time he notices, finally looks at you, you’re kneeling on the ground and spreading his thighs so you can settle between them.

Minseok looks at you in confusion as he tries to understand your intentions,”What are you doing?”

You run a quick hand through your hair, tucking as much of your bangs as you can behind your ears and smirk up at him. You lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet. Soft enough to give him a chance to pull away and say no to the whole thing. Sweet enough to reassure that you’re okay with it on your end. Minseok kisses you back tentatively and keeps his hands in his lap. Your tongues wrestle for a while, getting more and more aggressive as Minseok gets more comfortable. He groans into your mouth, struggling to figure out where to place his hands until you guide them to your chest. But the ache between your legs gets to be too much and all you can think about is sucking him off, helping him with his little problem.

So you get back down on your knees and unbuckle his belt, maybe pulling off pants a little more rougher than you should’ve.

Minseok shakes his head, trying to look past you for any movement in the office,”What if we get caught? My co-workers are in the break room on this floor.”

“We won’t get caught.”

The confidence in your voice makes him relax slightly, but only slightly, and you kiss his knee for some extra reassurance. Even with a few more kisses, your affection and vague explanation aren’t enough and the nervousness in Minseok’s voice rises.

“Y/N-”

“Minseok do you want this or not? If you don’t, I’ll stop right here.”

Minseok looks at you, really looks at you, trying to decide whether this is a good decision or not. You stare at his tented briefs peeking out of his pulled down slacks, biting your lip at the small spot of precum there, but you wait for him to voice any unwillingness first.

You look up at him, smiling as genuinely as you can, and Minseok finds some sort of comfort in it. Suddenly he nods very quickly, hands going to pull his briefs and pants down a little more. While the idea of minseok wearing tighty whities is precious, you need to get a verbal okay before you go any further.

“Hold on, Romeo, I need to hear you say it.”

“I...want it. Yeah I want it.”

After hearing his consent you’re ready to go, grabbing a hold of his cock and pumping it to full hardness. You try not to stare too long at it, smiling when it twitches from being out in the cold, but your eyes always find their way back.

Minseok watches you watch his cock, worry weighing heavily on his brow. Were you disappointed? Was the magic over so soon? He’s a small guy, a whopping 5'7 if he stands on his tippy toes, and his... size reflects that. Just as he's about to tuck himself away and die from embarrassment, you blow on it gently and look up at him with absolute awe in your eyes. Minseok chokes out a moan, hands hovering over your head before going to the sides of your chair for safe keeping.

With each kitten lick you give, his cock twitches more and more. He continues gripping the chair, glasses slightly askew, and letting out breathy moans. You can’t help but coo at the display,”You’re so cute!” Before he can reply, you suck roughly at the patch of skin just below his tip.

Minseok bites his lip, trying his hardest to hold back a groan whenever your tongue flicks particularly hard, but then you gently rub the tip of his cock along your bottom teeth and he whimpers especially loud. “Please,” he begs more to himself than to you,”They’ll hear you.” But then the break room door opens and a figure jogs down the hallway yelling,”Xiumin!” Before Minseok can even process he’s about to be caught and consequently fired, you’re under your desk with a finger pressed to your mouth when he looks down at you in pure panic. He shuffles the chair towards the desk, making sure to hide you as well as his dick, and continues to finish up the code he was working on.

The figure jogs up, revealing a bubbly yet winded chen,”Minseok, are you sure you don’t want to play? Minhyuk’s gonna be the Dungeon Master instead of Kyungsoo. We voted him out.” Minseok smiles up at his co-worker and tries to hide the quivering in his voice,”I should probably finish up here first before I join you guys.” He makes it through sounding pretty okay and because of that Chen wants to talk. He talks about things you don’t know at all, about LAN parties and Dungeons and Dragons. Minseok starts getting comfortable, enjoying Chen’s company as if he forgot you’re under the table ready to blow him.

At the sight of Minseok’s cock softening and the realization of you being ignored, you grab Minseok’s balls and roll them in your hand with a practiced ease. They’re soft in your hand, smooth and lightly tanned, and you can’t help but take one in your mouth. He continues talking and sort of triumphs despite the breathy air he leaves on certain words. Chen is none the wiser, still talking to Minseok about Magic the Gathering or WOW or something equally nerdy. You can see his cock twitch from the slight stimulation, a jerky bob that seeks some sort of friction as it comes back to life. You suck at the tip gently, digging your tongue into the slit and only stopping when Minseok lets out a startled moan at the sudden change in sensation.

Chen picks up on this and frowns uneasily,”You okay?”

You pull him out of your mouth, pulling his cock to full hardness, and Minseok panics like he’s been caught.  Chen gets curious, leaning over just the slightest to see if Minseok is really okay. The smallest tech guy nods quickly, a light flush claiming his cheeks,”N-no I’m okay! I’ll meet you guys there in a sec!” A second goes by. Then two. Then three. Chen shrugs and grabs a handful of jelly beans from the bowl on your desk before heading back to the break room and closing the door behind him.

Minseok pulls away from the desk and stares down at you, blushing when you smirk up at him. "Fuck my face, Minseok." "W-what?" You don't make any attempt to repeat yourself or even look ashamed of what you said. You love this, the flustered stammering as Minseok tries to wrap his head around what's happening.

Before he can ask anymore questions, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out and wait. Minseok can only stare on at your gesture, a bead of precum bubbling out of his tip at the display. "Hands in my hair," you mumble before sticking your tongue back out. But something changes in Minseok so suddenly you almost miss it.

There's a glint in his eye now, an overwhelming darkness that makes your core ache. He grabs your hair roughly, shocking the both of you at the aggression, and places his cock in your mouth. He holds you in place, small fist grabbing with all his might, and watches you moan around his cock. But he doesn't let you bob anymore, doesn't let you tease him with kitten licks and soft moans. He does keep a firm hand in your hair, does let the weight of his cock rest on your tongue so you're familiar with the length, does let the tip lightly touch the back of your throat just enough to make you subtly wince.

You rest your hands on his thighs just to have some sort of leverage as he holds you there, but that small hand in your hair let's go and slaps you before grabbing your chin and squeezing. "Hands behind your back." Oh? You blink once, twice, trying to understand where the hell this attitude came from. This new confidence that Minseok gave off makes you wetter than you've ever been. His shy demeanor is completely gone now as he waits for you to follow his command.

But that soft kind nature comes back briefly and checks in to make sure you're alright,"Green means go, red means stop. Where are you?" He pulls his cock out of your mouth, waiting for you to fully and verbally respond to the situation. You bite your lip, way more turned on than before at the sudden kindness,"Green."

Minseok looks over you, one hand grabbing your hair while the other unbuttons your blouse down three buttons, and nearly cums in his slacks at the sight of your smeared lipstick. "Minseo-"

There's another sting at your cheek, your head turning to the side before you truly realize what happened. "Sir," he corrects, eyes never wavering from the swell of your breasts peeking out of your blouse. You arch your back slightly, making your breasts swell even more in the open top,"S-sir..."

Minseok nods, pressing a harsh biting kiss on your lips before saying,"I only say orders once. If you don't obey the very first time you get punished. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Minseo~ah!"

He doesn't slap your face this time, but he does slap your breast, squeezing it harshly until you say,"Yes, Sir! Ah~ I'm sorry, Sir!"

The threat of another slap makes you put your hands behind your back immediately and the gentle caress of his hand on your cheek is what makes you keep them there. For a brief moment Minseok kisses your forehead just to let you know how well you're doing.

He holds his cock, smearing the precum collected there across your lips,"You look so filthy, baby. I bet you'd look so pretty covered in my cum." You greedily suck at the head, bracing yourself when he pulls you off his cock with a pop. The lingering taste of salty bitterness makes your daring move worthwhile. You need more and you'll do anything to get it.

"God look at you," Minseok starts as he slowly but surely slides his length into your mouth,"you're so desperate for it. I bet you're the office's little cockwhore huh?"

He sets up a brutal pace, not really giving you a chance to catch a breath or even comprehend what's going on. For a minute you're taken aback by the sheer force behind his thrusts. Despite his shy demeanor this definitely isn't Minseok's first rodeo. You can only moan around his length and try not to choke as his thrusts grow faster and more accurate, making you gag and spittle. "I bet all you do is suck cock all day long in this office with a belly full of cum," Minseok grunts as you look up at him with watery eyes,"Keep looking at me, baby. This is what you wanted right? To be treated like the dirty slut you really are?"

Tears stream down your face as your gag reflex is tested beyond what you've experienced in your past sexual endeavors. It isn't the size of Minseok, but the accuracy of his hips and the ability to pivot at a speed you've never seen. Minseok pulls you onto his dick until your nose is buried in a nestle of neatly trimmed black curls and watches you closely. You cry out of reflex, your body tenses and flexes as you're pushed on the tippy top of too much, and yet you still try to flicker some part of your tongue against some part of his cock.

Something happens that you never thought could happen.

While Minseok avoided touching you (entirely on purpose) you'd managed to feel the blossoms of orgasms anyway through this sloppy as ever blowjob. And now with Minseok seemingly ensuring that he makes you pass out with his cock, you can't help but moan as an all too familiar pleasure racks through your core in waves. You shudder through each wave, a long moan muffled by weight on your tongue. "Did you cum from sucking my cock? Well," Minseok smirks,"You're gonna be my little cum dump from now on. You like the sound of that? You're gonna be my little cum dump now. My little cock sleeve."

With several more thrusts Minseok is coming down your throat with a grunt. Wave after wave of his cum fills your mouth and you can't help but moan then slowly swallow when he pulls away. "Open your mouth," he hums as he holds onto your chin. You obey him immediately, sticking out your tongue once again to show that the substance is all gone. Minseok kisses you fiercely, pulling you into his lap and holding you close,"You did so well”.

You're kind of a mess, boobs hanging out of your half opened shirt and completely dazed. There isn't much Minseok can do in an office for aftercare, but he tries his hardest. He fixes your clothes and orders takeout to be delivered to the building. While waiting for takeout to come, Chen returns to find his D&D partner,”Are you ready y-...oh.”

You instinctively runs your fingers through your hair, just to make sure everything is in order, but when Chen motions to your mouth you're a little confused. Minseok glances at you too, a blush dusting his cheeks as soon as he sees what Chen is slowly smirking at. Then it clicks. Your lipstick. “When did you get here, Y/N?”

You grab the compact mirror in your desk and wipe off the smeared lipstick while Minseok explains. “We...we got food and...it got all over,” he gestures to his mouth in a circular motion.

Great. Thanks Minseok.

“So,” Chen starts as he looks between the two of you,”you came over and got food in the span of 30 minutes when I visited you and asked you to come hang out with us.” Minseok nods with a nervous smile,”Y/N is working late too so she brought food with her. Go figure.”

Chen’s smirk soon grows,”I’m glad you're settling in well, Minseok. You already making friends. Anyway, I'll leave you guys alone. We're heading to the next floor in 20 minutes since this floor is entirely wiped,” and when you make a face of confusion Chen answers without really looking at you, his eyes staring directly at Minseok with a hint of a mysterious emotion behind them,”the computers have different servers on each level. I'll see you in a bit Minseok.” With that Chen leaves, not really giving Minseok much time to respond, but the nerd answers with a soft yet excitable “Okay!” anyway.

You stand up right after he leaves, grabbing your coat and the files you had long forgotten. Minseok blinks up at you, his innocent eyes behind those thick glasses almost making you stop entirely,”Where are you going?”

You ruffle his hair, too busy making sure everything you need is in your purse before putting on your jacket,”I'm heading home, babe. I'm not gonna get any work done with you here distracting me.” Throwing your purse over your shoulder you lean down and place a gentle kiss on his lips, giggling at the way he subtly follows you when you pull away,”I'll text you okay?”

Minseok nods and tries his hardest to hide the disappointment on his face as you jot your number down on a bright yellow sticky note. You kiss him again before making your exit, the click of your heels following you down the hall to the elevator. Minseok still can't believe any of this happened on his second week of work, still can't believe that someone as hot as you would just randomly blow him after hours.

He hopes, really really hopes, that his texting you as soon as you leave his sight doesn't seem desperate. But as excited as he is, Minseok can't help but be a little confused at your behavior. You had every intention to stay, taking off your heels and cuddling with Minseok as much as you could in your office chair, and you seemed fine. As soon as you started speaking with Chen, you suddenly left in a hurry almost running out of the building. Were you simply embarrassed because the two of you had been found out or was there something else?

[jenroses]

Demystifying US taxes

Okay, kids, so look, I know a lot of you are paying taxes for the first time, and it’s important to do it right, but for most people, doing it right is not terribly difficult. I am not a tax professional. I’m just a grownup who has to handle taxes that involve a business, rental properties, medical expenses, mortgage deduction, etc. I did, once upon a time, qualify for EIC and various child care credits, and have handled the educational bullshit that comes with the luxury of a 529 educational trust fund. 

1. If you have income that is on W2s, and not a lot of investments and stuff, and you don’t need to itemize deductions (most people don’t! If you don’t own a house, it probably doesn’t benefit you to itemize!) then doing your taxes is likely to be pretty straightforward and it doesn’t have to be scary.

2. Turbotax (and other programs like it) will do the math for you.  If your income is under a certain point and you’re not using fancy features like for owning a business and shit, it’s FREE. You don’t have to pay until you file, regardless, so it’s worth running through the program to make sure you have everything. 

3. It is worth using a program like Turbotax, because it might flag deductions and tax credits you didn’t know you qualified for. Earned Income Credit, health care credits, etc.

4. It can get complicated if your parents claim you, or if there’s educational stuff going on. You’re going to get some tax documents, and your parents might, too. You’re going to need to work it out with them which things are relevant. 

5. It’s a good idea to keep a box, folder, whatever with various Important Papers that come in from January to March for taxes. If you do anything involving an online business (*cough*Patreon*cough*) and you are paying expenses related to that business, they all go in the box, and if they’re not tangible paper receipts, you need to keep track of them online. Google docs spreadsheets are a fast, easy way to do this. I also set up a dummy account on facebook and message numbers to myself a lot. 

6. It is possible to reconstruct a LOT of expenses via your credit card bill, Paypal account, etc. If you’re paying with a credit card via paypal, don’t double dip. If you buy supplies on Amazon, your entire history forever is up there. 

7. Google Docs has a spreadsheet function! This means you can plug in a bunch of numbers in a column, highlight the numbers, and click the SUM button. And that will add them for you. You usually don’t have to do any actual math to do your taxes if you know how to use the tools available to you. 

By far the easiest situation is if you have ONE job, one W2, and no reason to itemize. Your taxes are probably mostly paid! That’s great.

If you have TWO jobs (or more), there’s a good chance you’re going to have to pay extra money in April. This is because they don’t tax the first chunk of income, and if you have two jobs, that means two chunks that didn’t get taxed, instead of one. Talk to HR if you are in this situation. You may need to have fewer exemptions on your second job, or they may handle it differently if you ask. 

If you have self-employment income, even if your overall income is low, you’re going to PROBABLY end up sending something to the government. Why? Because of medicare/social security taxes, which employees pay at like 7.5% (or something, I forget) and the employer pays the same, and self employed people pay both “halves” of that payment, so whatever your profit is on your business, you’re going to pay a minimum of 15% on it, in most cases. If your income is higher (or the business is supplementing a day job) it is likely to be higher, a total of anywhere from 30%-50% depending on what tax bracket you’re in. Turbotax will help you figure this out, but you REALLY need to be setting aside money out of every withdrawal, regardless. Put it in an account that you don’t touch. If you’re really with it, see if you can put the money in a short-term low-risk investment account with a maturity date shortly before you file. But even a box under the bed is better than not saving up as you go along. 

If you owe more than a certain amount of taxes come April, you could owe a penalty! The way to avoid this is to pay quarterly taxes as you go. If you have a W2 and a business, when you do your taxes, make a note of how much your advance payments (from the day job) were, in total, and subtract that from the total tax, and divide that by four. Turbotax should be able to handle this. Send it in every 3 months. If you’re ONLY paying self-employment stuff, you’ll probably just take the total tax owed, divde by four and send that. If you do that, even if your income goes up, if you can show you made a good faith effort to put in what you paid last year, they won’t charge a penalty. The first year you go over the amount ($1000 last I looked?), they won’t charge a penalty. 

At least through this year, most low-income people are not likely to pay a lot of taxes and might actually get a refund, and possibly a substantial one. Next year? Fuck if I know. Who knows what those yahoos will do to the tax code.

After dealing with my own taxes, running through a simple 1040EZ for someone with one job is downright relaxing.

Anyone else want to chime in?