#listen. this year i actually have a desk in the office which is nice but also not nice in some ways

[hearts-hunger]

i'm deep frying my boss with my mind btw

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Clownfall: Endgame

I am calling it that in the full knowledge that batshit things may yet happen, but listen. Listen. We have a year left before the general election. I am hedging my bets and assuming all that comes in that year will be Tory manoeuvring ahead of that. Let's all hope for a nice quiet year in which everything can fall neatly under that banner, that won't ruin this naming convention.

Previous Reading

Important Terminology - Required Reading

What is a Whip?

How do Whips work?

Shadow Cabinet

Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet

What do we need to call an early General Election?

The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Elanor’s Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading

Character-based prequel

The Premiership of Liz Truss

The Next Steps - Suggested Reading

The post-Truss contenders

Bye Matt

BoJo Resigns as MP

Alright, that's probably everything. Just nice to have it all in one place, innit? If you would like a nice soothing soundtrack to your reading, here's my recommendation. On with the show!

Clownfall: Endgame

Wednesday

So, let's start with charismatic and charming Home Secretary Suella Braverman! You may remember her from such hits as "Quitting before she could be fired after breaking the law only to be rehired by Sunak almost immediately and without consequence to appease the right wing nutjobs in the party", and "Claiming Pakistani men have a culture that makes them work in abuse rings to target vulnerable white English girls" (I should add that, if you are unfamiliar with Suella Braverman, regardless of what that quote implies, she is not, in fact, white); recently she made the news because she announced that being homeless is a "lifestyle choice". So true, Suella! They could give it up any time they wanted. They could, for example, get together and break in and steal your fucking house.

But in particular, here we're focussing on her recent stance towards the multiple huge pro-Palestine marches that have been taking place in London. So far she has indicated that she wants people who wave Palestinian flags to be arrested, so that's very measured and rational of her; but, last Wednesday (Nov 8th), she decided to write a lil opinion piece in the Times all about how mean and biased and liberal the police are. This is an absolutely fascinating assertion to I suspect literally anyone who has ever been involved with the police. But no! Quoth Suella, aggressive right-wing protesters are "rightly met with a stern response", while "pro-Palestinian mobs" are "largely ignored".

And, she claims, the march on Saturday isn’t simply a cry for help for Gaza, but an "assertion of primacy by certain groups - particularly Islamists - of the kind we are more used to seeing in Northern Ireland".

Imagine how well all that went down.

Thursday

You are underestimating how that went down, because it emerges that Suella deVille did not, in fact, get any form of validated sign-off or permission from Number 10 before squirting her ill-informed liquid horseshit all over the front desk of the Times news room, and that, Tumblrs, you'll be surprised to learn, is actually quite an important and compulsory part of criticising the police when you are the Home Secretary. Like, there is a Ministerial Code about this. It is very clear. It is in Article 8.2, Tumblrs. Thou Shalt Have Permission From Number 10 Before Making Media Interventions.

“The content was not agreed with Number 10,” a spokesperson for Prime Minister Rishi Sunak told reporters, referring to the prime minister’s Downing Street office. The ministerial code is clear that any ministerial media interventions need approval from No 10.

-AlJazeera

And the Tories are furious! The bloodbath forms quickly and loudly and the hounds start baying! Clown noses are flying everywhere! The factions are drawn! Because even now, there are Tories too stupid to understand that whether you agree with someone or not they still have to follow the rules! Also the other parties realise they can offer some actual opposition here, given that Suella has essentially dragged a barrel into the middle of the House of Commons dressed in a fish costume, handed around a set of loaded rifles, and then crawled inside to wait. The result is that the calls for her resignation are both deafening and pleasingly cross-party.

"(This is a) dangerous attempt to undermine respect for police", says Labour's shadow home secretary Yvette Cooper. "(It's) irresponsible," says London mayor Sadiq Khan. "The PM's weakness when it comes to standing up to Suella is the most shocking thing in all this," claims a senior Labour source.

They're wrong, of course. The most shocking thing is Liberal Democrat leader Sir Ed Davey realising he can actually appear in the paper if he plays this right and so surfaces to attempt some politics. "(Sunak) must finally act with integrity by sacking his out-of-control home secretary!" he declares, frightening many MPs who had forgotten he was even in the room with them.

Meanwhile, several Tories approach the BBC anonymously.

"The home secretary's awfulness is now a reflection on the prime minister. Keeping her in post is damaging him," says one. Another straight-up describes her as "unhinged". Another claims the comparison with Northern Ireland is "wholly offensive and ignorant", and really, all of this is permanently triggering that "Heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made a great point" reaction image.

Saturday

Hey, speaking of reaction images, look, Labour has a go:

Well. They tried.

BUT! Do you want to know the INTERESTING bit??!

Enter: Nadine Dorries! Mad shrieking pink harpy who spends her days maintaining a BoJo shrine in her bedroom! Always the most hinged of politicians, let's see what she has to say.

Former cabinet minister Nadine Dorries claimed Ms Braverman was trying to get sacked to give her a platform of martyrdom in service of the right-wing. "The competition is on now for who is going to be the leader of the opposition," Ms Dorries told the BBC.

???!??!?

PERTINENT POLITICAL OBSERVATION FROM DORRIES?!?!?? The most shocking part of this whole affair. Remember that time she yelled at a journalist during an interview about Boris Johnson's latest scandal when he asked her how Johnson was feeling about the whole thing and inadvertently implied they were having an affair when No One Asked? God, wonders never cease. She's even acknowledging the Tories can't win the next GE, look. I'd say this is growth, except I am 100% positive she's just being catty about BlowJo being fired again.

Anyway, the real Saturday issue: it's Armistice Day, and there's a pro-Palestine march planned.

Now, to give context, Armistice Day has a creepy level of patriotic state-worship attached to it in the UK. Some time in October everyone on telly suddenly starts wearing a poppy, and if you don't you get hanged, drawn and quartered by (a) the British press, and then (b) a baying mob outside your living room. You most be performatively sad. You must perform reverence and hero worship and say things like "Never again" all while whole-heartedly supporting current wars. You must talk about "our brave boys", and share the works of dead poets from the trenches, and then completely fail to absorb any of their lessons. If anyone tries to wear the white poppy to distance themselves from the current political appropriation while still commemorating the millions of conscripted casualties, you accuse them of being "woke" and pissing on the worthy dead of WW1. It's a whole thing, and politicians love using it as an excuse to point fingers and mock each other for being insufficiently patriotic if they wear the wrong tie to the ceremonies, or choose to walk with actual veterans rather than a head of the current army, or any number of other things. And then on November the 12th they'll order a drone strike or something.

So, off the bat, you can see how a pro-Palestine rally on the same day was likely to be seen as provocative to some.

"Some" included Sunak! He didn’t (publicly at least) ask the police to ban the protest, but did call on organisers to call it off, claiming the choice of date was “provocative and disrespectful”, because as I say, a march calling for the ceasefire of a genocide is super disrespectful to every sad dead poet in a trench who dreamed of a ceasefire so they could live, or something.

But the inevitable therefore happens, which is that far-right activists agree that it's disrespectful, and so decide to violently target the march to show their respect for the idea of peace on Armistice Day, or something.

Here's the planned route by the organisers:

Note, though, that the Armistice ceremony happens at the Cenotaph - visibly nowhere near the march. These two events actually wouldn't have overlapped, if it weren't for far-right protestors deliberately linking them to stop them being disrespectfully linked, or something.

And that's exactly what happened. From the Guardian:

Perhaps the most striking incident, though, was when far-right protesters charged past police who sought to hold them back from the Cenotaph. In this video, a man shouts “this is fucking our country” in celebration. Whereas the pro-Palestine march had been excluded from the area as a precaution, the far right was not; by overwhelming the police, they supposedly sought to defend the site from an enemy that simply wasn’t there.

(that's quite a good article of the whole thing, actually, I recommend giving it a read.)

Crucially to the clown show, though, several politicians and others accused Suella deVille of emboldening the far-right, which... well, several of the far-right protestors straight up said was the case on the day, so hard to disagree, really.

Rumours of a reshuffle in Whitehall circumnavigate the land so fast the truth gets sucked into a tornado and is declared MIA.  Here's the thing! I've covered a few Cabinet reshuffles by now, Tumblrs, you know the drill. Reshuffles are always deniable until they actually happen – so if, say, a reshuffle was going to happen on Monday 13 November 2023, there’d be no need to publicise it in advance. That way, if things change and politics happen, you don't need to retract anything :)

Because, remember: reshuffles are always controversial.  Yes, some people get demoted, and those people will often kick off, and some people who don't deserve it get promoted, and lots of people kick off.  But the big thing is that a lot more people get overlooked for promotion.

His most ardent supporters would say that Rishi Sunak is a cautious man (if you'll allow me a moment to express my own view on the matter, Tumblrs, if you'll forgive this crumb of personal opinion amongst my otherwise impeccable journalling of greatest integrity, I once did a teambuilding task with my students where they had to build the best possible bridge out of uncooked spaghetti and pieces of marshmallow, and I personally would liken the structural integrity of his spine to the losing team's entry), and reshuffles will spread a lot of disappointment to Tory MPs who lose – or fail to gain – a cabinet position.

So, all in all... regardless of Suella's idiocy...

There's no guarantee of a reshuffle. Rumours are just that - whether they prove to be true or not remains to be seen.

Week Commencing Monday 13th November, 2023

New week, new challenges! And it's going to be a big week this week. On Wednesday (tomorrow, at time of writing), three big things are going to be announced, and these announcements will colour everything else this week:

One.  The Supreme Court decide whether the government will be allowed to enact their plan to send some migrants claiming asylum in the UK to Rwanda, a signature Braverman plan that human rights campaigners (including many in Rwanda) have been trying to block for ages.

It’s a massive deal anyway – a flagship government idea that’s been bogged down in the court, and we’ll finally have an answer one way or another.  For what it’s worth, the Tories aren’t confident about winning it, either.  The optimists among them reckon it’s a 50/50 chance, the pessimists reckon it’s 70/30 against, so it's iffy at best.

But here's the thing!

Plenty of Tories have always disliked Suella.  Others could handle the odd outburst she has, but can’t stomach the sheer number of them lately - the Lib Dem non-entity man was absolutely right that she is rapidly growing out of control and just does not know when to shut the entire fuck up.

Which means! If the Supreme Court allows the Rwanda plan, Braverman could become emboldened, like a far-right protest injuring police officers to defend the cenotaph from people who are nowhere near it and have no interest in it.  Do we want an emboldened Braverman?? Well; no, obviously. I also don't want dysentery, or rotten meat, or a serial killer in my neighbourhood. But it's a question even Tories are asking themselves, which is notable.

Plus, even if the court allows it, there will still be months of planning, and lawyers might still prevent the plans in the long run...  But psychologically, the issue is this: the government wants this win, but probably doesn’t benefit from Braverman feeling victorious.

Two.  We’ll get inflation figures.  The government promised to halve inflation, and it seems likely they’ve managed this.  Expect them to massively celebrate this, to distract from the promises they haven’t kept e.g. waiting lists in England, competent governance, etc.

Three.  Voting on a ceasefire in Israel seems likely for Wednesday.  It’s the SNP’s idea, and it won’t affect government policy (they won’t support a ceasefire – they claim it’ll empower Hamas).

But it’s a big deal for Labour, even more so than the Tories.  A Shadow minister has already resigned over the war.  A bunch of frontbenchers want a ceasefire, but that isn’t Keir Starmer’s policy, a man who is calling for the colours of the Israel flag to be shown at sports matches to show that "we stand in solidarity with Israel", because you can really count on Starmer to fuck up everything he touches.  So what do they do?  Abstain?  Claim they had a prior commitment??  We might see more resignations, basically.  Big day for Starmer.

So! With all that in mind...

Monday

8.43am

Oh look. Timestamps are back. I wonder if that suggests anything?

Suella Braverman is sacked as Home Secretary.

But! Sunak is accused of waiting too long! Which he demonstrably did!

He should have made the decision after the illegal article that she shouldn't have written and triggered a far-right rally on fucking Armistice Day.  Instead, remember that 'cautious' descriptor I talked about?? He waited until the tide had turned against her completely, and now looks like he (a) was too much of a useless wimp to fire her until he was sure people would still like him and pat his dick and tell him he's a Good PM, and (b) only fired her because he caved in to that appalling lefty liberal cabal that somehow these days includes the Metropolitan Police of all fucking people, and she'd have been able to stay otherwise.

Shout out to the best comment from Reddit:

u/nowonmai666: Doesn't she normally get sacked on a Friday so she can have the weekend off before being reappointed?

Anyway, that's the big risk now: Braverman’s supporters can claim she was only fired because Sunak caved in to the left.

8.56am

Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns claims Sunak only sacked Braverman because he caved in to the left.

9.00am

Neil O'Brian, Pharmacy Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being a back-bencher with less power.

*sus*

9.09am

Nick Gibb, Schools Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being more diplomatic, or something.

*sus*

9.42am

The Lib Dems decide to build on the success of their leader getting to be on telly for his one comment on Thursday and call for a general election.  Says Ed Davey: “It was the Prime Minister’s sheer cowardice that kept her in the job even for this long. We are witnessing a broken party and a broken government, both of which are breaking this country.”

Good job! They're having such a good few days.

Anyway remember the Tories don’t have to have a general election until December 2024, though, thanks to the Fixed-term Parliaments Act (2011), which was passed by the coalition government of Tories and, um, Lib Dems.  In which Ed Davey served for three years.

Hmm.

9.43am 

James Cleverly (remember him?) returns to the Cabinet and is appointed Home Secretary. The party attempts to appear trendy by experimenting with emojis:

This appointment is probably because Tory strategists wanted him in a domestic role to help the party’s chances in the next election; as Surprising Political Pundit Nadine Dorries told us, of all fucking people, the race is now on to lead the opposition.

But hey, this is not likely to lead to any more changes -

10.03am

FORMER PRIME MINISTER, BREXIT-TRIGGERER AND PIG-FUCKER DAVID CAMERON BECOMES FOREIGN SECRETARY

!!!!!!!!!!!!

And look! Another emoji! They're so hip!

(Side note... the balls on this one are astounding, actually. The UK political system has been in chaos ever since Cameron, and he was the first domino. This is not a well-loved former hero that will be greeted warmly by the unwashed masses.)

Awkward though, since just last month Sunak claimed that we’d lived through “30 years of a political system that incentivizes the easy decision, not the right one.”  It would be a terrible shame if a journalist was to ask David Cameron whether he agreed with the Prime Minister on that, given that Cameron’s job is to support the Prime Minister now.

Especially since Cameron took to Twitter last month to explicitly criticise Sunak for breaking the Tory promise to deliver High Speed 2.

(Cameron tweeted this criticism last month.  Labour MP Angela Rayner however promptly retweets it now lol suck a dick Dave, but try a human one this time)

Also, fun fact, Cameron has just come out of a large-scale lobbying and corruption scandal. Given the state of Sunak, though, that's actually probably what got him the job.

BUT!!! Here's an even funner fact: the man is not an MP. He left politics after he accidentally triggered Brexit and then it came out he'd once face fucked a dead pig's head while it was held on the lap of another Tory; he's been living it up in the lucrative world of after-dinner speaking, as these people do.

So can you do that?? Can you hold a Cabinet position if no one at all has voted for you??

Yes, turns out.

Don't be alarmed by that, though:

But, convention holds that anyone who becomes a Cabinet member while not being an MP needs to be a Peer - that way, if they do bad and naughty things, they can't be held accountable by the House of Commons but they can be held accountable by the House of Lords. Only problem is, Hameron is not a lord...

10.13am

The reshuffle, bafflingly, continues. Jeremy Hunt will remain as chancellor.

For the first time since 2010, the top four positions in government – Prime Minister (Sunak), Chancellor of the Exchequer (Hunt), Home Secretary (Cleverly) and Foreign Secretary (Cameron) – are all held by men.

10.18am

Lots of people tweeting about the historic context of Cameron’s appointment.  Here’s my favourite:

10.48am

David Cameron is given a life peerage, so his proper name now is Lord Piggledick.

10.52am

Health secretary Will Quince quits.  He wasn’t planning to stand for re-election anyway though, so this one is probably not a shock. But it's important that no one else resi-

11.04am

Decarbonisation minister Jesse Norman resigns.

...

...

...

Time for a

✨Conspiracy Theory✨

Between Quince and Norman – as well as Neil O’Brien and Nick Gibb – we’re seeing several mid-ranking ministers resign, despite being generally regarded as fairly competent.

It’s possible they were fired in private, and they’re publicly resigning to save face.  But here’s another theory.

MPs aren’t allowed to seek commercial employment for six months after resigning from the government.

So hypothetically, if you were going to lose your seat in a general election, you’d want to have resigned six months earlier so you can still get a job.

If that’s what these guys are doing, it suggests we’re on track for a May 2024 election...?

11.05am

11.12am

Remember Cameron's financial scandal? Quick background here: David Cameron was specifically vice-chair of a £1bn China-UK investment fund.

So let’s see what throwback former leader Iain Duncan Smith thinks of Cameron’s return:

“I am astonished at this appointment. It seems to send a signal to China that we are pursuing business with them at all costs and any costs. Those who have been sanctioned now feel more abandoned than at any time. Those facing genocide and persecution will feel more abandoned than at any time.”

I cannot believe I am about to say this.

But.

I agree with Iain Duncan Smith *spits on floor*

11.50am

Former Tory deputy prime minister Lord Heseltine is asked to sum up the return of Cameron, and says it’s the “clearest signal that the sort of right wing lurch that we’ve seen and the anti-European movement that we’ve seen has been put to bed, and that will get a message across to people”.

12.13pm

A Tory MP is worried that Cameron’s return will turn back the clock on Brexit and Johnson’s election.

“It is very alarming. I am predicting a softening on small boats, a softening on legal migration. I would not be surprised if the ban on conversion therapy returns.”

... Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Anyway, let’s see how the public actually sees Cameron compared with other PMs!

Yeah, not sure people will mind if Cameron’s not Boris Johnson.

12.43pm

ITV political editor Robert Peston walks past a minister of state.  The minister’s on the phone, but takes a moment to heatedly shout at Peston, “The PM just sacked me!”

I guess some days are easier than others as a journalist

12.47pm

Therese Coffey resigns as environment secretary!!!!

*choirs of heavenly angels sing*

You'll remember her of course, Tumblrs - she was one of the thugs manhandling people into the 'right' voting lobbies to force their vote on the day of Liz Truss' fracking law. Rumour has it she still has the Whip handle in her ass.

A lot of people seem to be resigning today! But don't be fooled. In almost every case, it’ll be because they were told to resign.  They’ve been sacked, but they resign to save face. A last mercy from their benevolent leader.

My guess: Tessie here is terrible at media skills, so – get rid of her before she hurts general election chances. This, too, is a pattern.

12.52pm

Rachel Maclean sacked as Housing Minister! Fun fact, numbers fans: it took Doctor Who 33 years to make it to eight Doctors, but since the 2019 election, the Tories managed eight Housing Ministers in just under 4 years

trololol

1.15pm

Jeremy Quin quits as Minister for the Cabinet Office.

1.37pm

Times Political Editor Steven Swinford reports that No 10 is struggling to find a new housing minister (owing to rumours the job is cursed). Several people have turned it down, including Jeremy Quin. It is incredible to me that they didn't line someone up before sacking the last guy.

Kemi Badenoch and Michael Gove are apparently unhappy that Rachel Maclean was removed from the role. I for one do not care about the opinions of Kemi Badenoch or Michael Gove.

2.04pm

Health Secretary Steve Barclay becomes Environment Secretary.  This is effectively a demotion for him. It is our 5th Environment Secretary in four years. Chasing that Housing Minister record! It took 19 years for Doctor Who to have five Doctors

2.15pm

Richard Holden appointed new Conservative Party chairman.

A 2019-intake Tory MP, he led the charge against Sir Keir Starmer over Beergate, which did damage Starmer a bit (albeit not much, given that it turned out Starmer had complied with lockdown regs, and the accusation was nakedly to try and distract from Partygate).  So this appointment looks like more strategy to win the next election - someone not known enough to be hated, with what passes in the modern Tory party for a proven track record.

This could be a sign that the Tories intend to at least try to shore up the Red Wall votes? As unlikely as the Tories are to keep those seats.

That said, Holden’s seat disappears in a boundary change next election, sooooo … we'll see what they do there.

2.24pm

Victoria Atkins appointed Health Secretary, replacing Steve Barclay who’s moved to Environment Secretary. She's a relative unknown but also considered actually competent. Massive middle finger to Steve Barclay

2.37pm

Laura Trott (formerly in pensions) promoted to Chief Secretary to the Treasury.

2.42pm

Science minister George Freeman resigns.

3.18pm

YouGov conducts a snap poll: is the appointment of David Cameron as Foreign Secretary a good decision or a bad decision?

Good decision: 24%

Bad decision: 38%

Don't know: 38%

So that's going well

3.24pm

Greg Hands is made a business minister after losing the Tory chairman role.

John Glen moves from chief secretary to the Treasury to become the Minister for the Cabinet Office and Paymaster General.

3.39pm

With Cameron being a Lord now, he’ll be based in the House of Lords rather than the Commons.  The most recent Cabinet Minister to be based in the Lords was former Brexit minister Lord Frost, who did weigh in on the matter:

“[T]hough I was not running a whole Department too. I don’t think it works well to have a lead Cabinet Minister answering questions and defending their Department solely in the Lords. The Lords is not a fully party political environment - nor should it be - and voters are owed proper political scrutiny. In our system, that can only happen in the Commons.”

I cannot believe I am about to say this.

But.

I agree with Lord Frost *spits on floor*

The SNP had already called this out, with MP Stephen Flynn claiming, “The UK is not a serious country.”

4.21pm

Conservative MP Lee Rowley appointed the 16th housing minister in the past 13 years. Even counting David Tennant twice, that's more than all the Doctors Who we've ever had, and that took almost 60 years.

5.16pm

Sky News’s Tamara Cohen reports that Sunak sacked Braverman by phone this morning!  Downing Street says there won’t be any exchange of letters between them - this is almost unheard of. Politics runs on paper trails! Everything happens through formal letters! By phone!

It means we’re denied insight into their differences.  But Cohen reckons we’re likely to hear from Braverman on Wednesday, as the Supreme Court rules on the Rwanda scheme.

6.03pm

Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns, former Education Minister, submits no-confidence letter in Rishi Sunak.

It's almost like, in the absence of Dorries, she's decided that someone needs to step up and have a tantrum and that someone might as well be her. It is, actually, an extremely funny letter, as these letters go. Normally they're written with a sort of furious earnestness wrapped in formal language. I presume that Andrea Jenkyns MP, former Education Minister, was aiming for something similar, and the first paragraph manages it. But by the end you sort of start to wonder if this was supposed to be a letter she wrote with her therapist to get her feelings out:

My favourite line, when pulled in isolation, is "Yes Boris Johnson, the man who won the Conservative Party a massive majority, was unforgivable enough."

Yeah, Andrea babes. You're bang on there.

6.05pm

Esther McVey is appointed as Cabinet Office minister.  Not a full cabinet member, but she will attend cabinet meetings.

This is notable: unlike a lot of today’s appointments, she’s on the right of the party.  Her role will be to represent the government on TV and radio as much as possible, talking about gender/culture/British colonial history issues (i.e. she’s anti-woke and a screaming bigot).

In other words, with Braverman gone, McVey is an offering for the populist right of the party to try to appease them.

6.15pm

Sunak tweets about the new cabinet, claiming they’ll make “the right decisions for our great country, not the easy ones.”  So it looks like that’s the new slogan, and we're pressing on with austerity

6.27pm

Tim Loughton, a Tory MP on the “One Nation” wing (i.e the David Cameron side) responds to Andrea Jenkyns’s letter of no-confidence by tweeting:

“Where can we submit a letter of no confidence in the Pantomime Dame?”

(It’s Andrea he’s publicly referring to as a pantomime dame there. A lil joke from the Tories for you)

6.31pm

Paul Scully sacked as minister for London. Didn't know that one was a position.

9.43pm

Sunak says that only a two-state solution will allow a new future for Israel/Palestine.  This is, um, not what the Prime Minister of Israel wants.  Who knows whether the Prime Minister of Israel will survive this crisis anyway – but these are big words from Sunak.  Cameron’s influence? Maybe? Interesting either way

10.03pm

And then - PLOT TWIST!!!

According to ITV political editor Robert Peston, a senior government source reveals that Cameron was approached on TUESDAY. 

Which means plans were underway to get rid of Braverman not only before the far-right violence on Saturday, but before her anti-police article on Wednesday.  It seems she lost her job not because of what she said about police after all; but because she claimed homelessness was a lifestyle choice.

Well well.

11.05pm

And the day finishes with Andrea Leadsom back in government (as Under Secretary of State for Health and Social Care) which nobody saw coming!  Pretty demeaning to the other 300 Tory MPs who could have been given this.

The final response from numerous Tories: they are feeling jilted and insulted because David Cameron being brought back when he's NOT EVEN AN MP, RISHI suggests that they themselves are not good enough to be in government.

No one tell them

[hanasnx]

❝ incendium. ❞

── stephen glass x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3.3k SUMMARY: when a lie snowballs out of stephen's control, you swoop in for unorthodox damage control. NOTES: sorry i posted with the wrong title at first | wrote most of this over a year ago, so the style is a bit different, but stick with it trust me | if you say "part two" in the comments, you better come into my inbox with an actual plot or idea that will fit this "au" WARNINGS: f!reader | editor-in-chief!reader | suggestive content including sex and porn mentions so no minors still cos i dont want them on my page ever | deceit | inappropriate contracts.

When you’re the Editor-in-Chief for the biggest magazine of the year, you’ll have a couple thousand rumors spread about you. You wouldn’t pretend that its source wasn’t jealousy that drove poor opinions of you to circle the sandbox. It’s child’s play really, the way sparks of lies catch ablaze to spread like a dry forest’s fire. You’ve always imagined the end of the world to begin and end with a great flood— it was a blue planet after all. With that comforting metaphor, a measly incendium left you unbothered. 

You didn’t have a free moment in your schedule, and it had been like that for months. Being in charge meant shouldering the work of the workers underneath you, and it often meant taking some home with you— work, not workers. Speaking of which, you’d wish you’d find somebody decent to take home. Unfortunately, a relationship really didn’t fit into your hectic calendar. 

It was nice to have a personal assistant. She took care of the unimportant things for you, while you got to work on time and started on your bulleted list in order of priority. Said assistant, Maddy, sat at a desk outside your office, and when she entered to drop off your coffee she picked up, you seized the opportunity to inquire her knowledge on number one on your list. 

Maddy hummed questioningly as you waited, blinking at her over your reading glasses. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together once her memory was jogged. “The New Republic ran something a little detrimental to our brand. Our CEO’s legal team reached out to me to ask you to handle it before they had to step in. The last thing they want is a lawsuit—“ she rambled on and you held up your hand, quieting her. Upturning your palm to invite her to hand you TNR’s piece that supposedly mentioned this company. 

Maddy read your mind, spryly collecting the paper to place in your possession. 

It took seconds for you to scan it, creasing your brows in response to its misinformation. Maddy studied your reaction to its error. For you, this was not a matter of opinion, it was a matter of fact, and required your addressment. 

“Get Chuck on the phone, I want his earliest appointment.”

STEPHEN GLASS moistened his lips as he furiously typed up his latest story, anxious to meet the deadline with a particularly difficult article. His coworker Caitlyn swung in by his door frame. “Yo, Steve, Amy and I wanted to head to the bar after work today. You free?” Caitlyn had figured out the best way to ask him if he wanted to hang out was to put as little pressure on it as possible. He reminded her of a chihuahua…consistently shaken. 

Stephen glanced her way but continued typing. “Yeah? Got it… maybe…” he drawled dreamily, and she concluded he wasn’t entirely listening. 

Inviting herself inside, she slumped into one of his cold, blue, faux leather chairs. “What are you working on anyway?” 

“The Gainsmen piece. I was supposed to have it done already but it got buried.” he responded, eyes glued to the screen as if hypnotized. His hand blindly fumbled for his pen off to the side, like a good friend Caitlyn leaned over to slide the utensil into his fingertips. He banged the end of it against the meat of his thigh, revealing the ink tip so he could scribble some sort of note on his pad, all without ripping his pupils off the growing lines on the monitor. His coworker had never seen him so… intense. To free up his other hand for efficient typing he tucked the staff of the pen in between his lips. 

Stephen had the power to make her worry for him. From what she observed, he was overworked, and spent more time here than he ever did at home when he should be resting. That reasoning eased her into her next question, “You want me to help?” 

A sudden shift in his demeanor, his full attention on her for the first time since she entered his office, raising his brows with a hopeful glint in his dilated pupils. He pinched the pen in his knuckles, balancing the end of it against the corner of his mouth. “Would you?” His disbelief was adorably naive, as if surprised he’d ever receive help… if he deserved it. A smile tugged at Cait’s lips when she nodded, parting them to respond when a slam of a door tore both of their attentions away. 

It was you, the notorious editor of their largest competitor. It had silenced the entire floor, quiet enough to hear your heels click on the thin carpet, and Stephen’s pen drop onto his keyboard. Cait glanced at him as he scrambled to catch it in a failed attempt to prevent its further clattering against the keys. 

Every pair of eyes was on you as you cut through the stations. Your mere presence froze those around you, as if afraid to do something wrong and offend you in some way. At least, some of them anyway. Stephen always thought it was because of how stunning you were. Bone-chillingly authoritative in stockings and a pencil skirt. Behind his glasses his pupils dilated as they scanned from bottom to top, watching you walk further from him through the glass of his office. He gulped, thoughtlessly leaning in his seat to consume every angle of you his limited view from his desk would allow. Caitlyn had faced him again just in time to catch him in the act, and he settled back into his chair as if he hadn’t moved at all. She resisted the urge to flash him a quizzical look as he sheepishly watched himself fiddle with his pen in his lap. 

You did not waver your gaze from your goal, and Chuck had been expecting you. He wore the warmest smile he could muster as he opened his door for you, a headache having come on from the call he received earlier, announcing your scheduled arrival. “Miss (l/n),” he greeted with a nod, and you returned the greeting as he closed the door behind you. The frosted windows left a lot to the imagination of the employees on this floor. Everyone wordlessly agreed to remain reticent in order to eavesdrop on any juicy tidbit they could claw their sleep-deprived hands onto. Not only that, but as if enslaved to their subconscious desires, they shifted closer, gravitating towards Chuck’s office, crudely concealing the way they inclined their ears. 

Stephen’s hands clammed up, and he dropped the pen in between his legs so he could wipe his palms on his pants. He had a feeling he knew what you were here for. 

The conversation inside was indecipherable to the surrounding throng, except for one fragment at the resolution, resounding through the room, causing prying eyes to desperately study your blurred figures in hopes to interpret what kind of violent gestures you punctuated your threat with. 

“I will not be trifled with. My magazine did not tank my first year, it was the year before I was brought on board.” Able to see your arm raise, clutching a fluttering page, and slam it down onto Chuck’s desk. “When I came on I saved that establishment. I’m sick of reading about how the last Editor’s fault was mine! I expected more from The New Republic.” You had straightened. “Let a simple fact like this go unchecked in the future and I’ll poach you. Understand?” 

It was impossible to tell whether or not you waited for Chuck’s response before storming out. Stephen still thought you were as elegant as ever, observing you as you strode to the exit. He had suspected why you were here, and what you said at Chuck’s had confirmed it. You had nipped Chuck for signing off on Stephen’s piece. His mouth ran dry when your gaze landed on him. You didn’t recognize him as the man who wrote what you had come to pontificate on. Instead, you saw a boy in glasses, gawking at you from the seat of his desk as you happened to face him and accidentally make eye contact. 

Stephen had no idea you didn’t know who he was, and that assumption caused him to raise his hand at you to offer you a polite smile and a wave. You acknowledged it to be proper, unfaltering in your traipse. Just as soon as you’d left, the floor reignited, bustling and trucking through paperwork as if you’d never appeared. 

Caitlyn, unaware of Stephen’s current situation, had stood from the chair, and leaned against the back of it as she collected her thoughts, narrowing her eyes at Stephen. “What was that?” she inquired slyly, curious as to why Stephen had greeted you so familiarly. According to Cait’s knowledge, you and Stephen have never formally met, and you weren’t exactly the most accessible person to befriend. Casually greeting you was simply not done, unless it was a peer like Chuck. 

Stephen had returned to his monitor, nervously tapping the pen against the desk surface as the gears in his head turned. “What? You mean the wave?” he affirmed with a smile tugging at his lips, about to tell her the truth of why he did it. 

When you re-entered his mind, he idled, reminiscing on your outfit today. How your hips swayed in your smart pencil skirt, the lines of your stockings at the backs of your legs, the tasteful blouse and how it accentuated your exquisite outline. As a writer, Stephen admired your professional work. As an artist, he agonizingly wished he knew you— inside and out. When Caitlyn demanded an answer, Stephen looked up at her with a bashful snicker. “I mean… okay, alright,” He clasped his hands together, reminding himself how sweaty they were. 

“Go on, Steph, I’m waiting,” Cait said in a playful tone, eager to hear the gossip she knew he would inevitably spill. Her favorite source of entertainment was Stephen: the human embodiment of the overflowing cup. 

He longed to do just that, hanging his head briefly before feigning defeat. “We kissed.” he conceded as if it was reluctantly drawn from him rather than readily supplied as soon as it was conjured. He didn’t know why he said that, it just slipped out.

“Hey, Stephen,” Amy peeked her head in, seemingly oblivious of the nature of the conversation he and Caitlyn just shared, evidenced by Amy’s immediate interest in Cait’s gaping mouth, readjusting against the door frame. “Wait, wait, what did you say? What did I miss?” 

Cait flashed a look at Stephen as if to ask permission to repeat what he’d just spread. Stephen merely smiled childishly, and pinched his fingers together at the corner of his mouth, running across his lips pretending to zip them. Caitlyn got the message, nodding, and mimicking him. 

Amy sighed in playful annoyance, which only caused the other two to grin knowingly. “Whatever. Stephen, Chuck wants to see you in his office.” 

One more quizzical look from Cait, and he reassured her, “It’s probably nothing,” He met Amy’s gaze, “Tell him I’ll be right there, Ames.” 

We kissed. He’d said. We kissed. A lie he couldn’t stop pondering, and it snowballed into expansion. At first it was an innocent kiss, as virtuous as a young white flower. When it was received with such shock and entertainment, Stephen couldn’t help himself. A kiss became a heated make-out session at a company Christmas party he snuck into. A make-out became a regular occurrence when you just couldn’t stay away from him. A regular occurrence became seeing each other. Became experimental oral. 

All until it became dirty fucking on the side using your power as an Editor over him. “What am I gonna do? Say ‘no’ to her? No,” Stephen shook his head and sipped his Colombian coffee from the slit in its lid. “No,” he swallowed, “not to an Editor-in-Chief.” His regaling earned him pats on the back and laughter from those taking it as a joke. No one thought he was in any real danger. It’s not like he worked underneath her— in an employment stance. 

He couldn’t give it up. Cooking was one thing, but earning the respect of those around all because a woman made of ice was supposedly wrapped around his finger was another high entirely. One he couldn’t give up, no matter how immoral. He admired you— immeasurably— and still he let those words run out of his mouth faster than he could stuff them back in. Filthy secrets about what you’re like in bed, how rough you like it, what position is your favorite. It’s not like he could reveal those details without unveiling a little of himself and his fantasies as well. 

He never expected that it’d turn out like this. 

Never expected he’d be summoned to your office. 

“Miss—“ Maddy’s clear voice rings in your ear, interrupting you during your process of scratching your notes into the margin of the text. 

You sigh. “Madeline, if you’re here about Frank’s paternal leave again I’ll be forced to fire that baby myself.” 

She stutters, caught off guard by your sour attitude and poorly-timed joke. “No, Miss, I’m here to announce Mr. Glass’s arrival. I made him wait a few minutes- like you asked.” 

You peer up from your work at Maddy who’s in a straight-and-narrow posture by the door as you gesture incredulously with your hand. “Go ahead, send him in.” She nods, and hastily abides by your notion, fetching him. 

This time you don’t redirect your eyes from your thick pile of papers as you annotate, the nervous footsteps of your anticipated company echoing through your cavernous office. He follows the rug across the long pathway to the chair in front of your desk, taking a seat, and the leather creaks against itself. 

He takes notice of your strategic reticence. “Hi.” his wavering voice is a near whisper. Your script comes to a screeching halt. 

“Mr. Glass,” you reply, “you are a man-in-demand, aren’t you?” You swipe a page to the left, noting at the top right to bookmark it. 

Sheepish, Stephen stutters in his response, lips curled politely up, “I- I suppose so. I suppose I wouldn’t know.” To keep him nervous, you hum, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Every movement, no matter how minute, creates the leather din that damn-near echoes in your resonate office-space. He waits for you to speak, and when it becomes unbearable he fills the silence. “Is this about your talk with Chuck– er, Charles Lane? Because- about that, if you just listen–” 

At that, your eyes finally flicker up to meet his. “No, Mr. Glass, it is not.” He swallows. It’s becoming increasingly clear why you’re known as cold. It’s an unforgivable atmosphere, and a shiver runs up his spine powerful enough that he takes his hand to rub his own arm to generate warmth. You stand, and he presses his lips into a thin line, watching your every move as you gracefully close the script on your desk with a rare finesse. “You’ve brought a lot of attention to my door, you know that?” Strategically, Stephen remains silent as you leisurely round your desk. His hands begin to clam up again, and he rubs them on his thighs as he stares hard at his lap. A whole new level of intimidation has been reached being this close to you at the center of your focus. He’s unsure how to play this right now, and he finally registers your proximity when out of the corner of his eye he sees you sit on the edge of your desk adjacent to him. Your smooth legs are crossed within arm’s length of him. You fold your arms over your chest, your unwavering gaze making him feel smaller and smaller. Regardless of that, you can tell he’s not going to break. So you increase the pressure. “Have we met before?”

Big, innocent eyes peer up at you, hesitant to face you as he shakes his head marginally. The instinct to question if you’re mad at him dies in his throat. “No, ma’am.” The panic rises in his chest now that he’s denied having met you aloud, but you can’t possibly know about the lies he’s told, can’t prove he told them. Yet when he meets that piercing gaze, there’s a part of him that wants to come clean to you about everything if it means pleasing you. Though there is his job to think about, what would people say about a writer who lies about sexual encounters with the company’s competitor? It can’t be good.

“Is that a fact?” You raise your brows at him, and he nods slowly. “So, can you tell me why others have a different perception on that?”

He shakes his head.

“Mr. Glass, as frustrating as this all has become, you’re not here so I can berate you.” you concede, and at those words he visibly perks up. You reach over, plucking a folder from across your desk that stretches your body out in a specific way that rides your skirt up. Before he knows it, he’s sneaking a glance at the exposed skin of your thigh, how the flesh pushes together. The promiscuous rumors he’s spread about you and his own animal attraction to you has gone to his head because in that very moment he considers how warm and tepid your thighs must be against his ears. His salivating tongue rolls between his lips. He morphs into the posture of a goddamn saint as soon as you slam the folder onto the surface in front of him, he jolts right into it from the sudden noise, as if a chastising ruler had just struck his naughty hands. “I’m prepared to make you an offer.”

“What is this?” The shiny material of the folder falls open, and he inclines forward to read the cover of the thick stack of papers within it.

“An NDR.”

“An NDR? For what?” Stephen plays dumb, but you naturally would assume he’d know nothing about what this deal entails. You give him a silent moment to scan it. Uneasily, as if he’s reading it wrong, he relays the synopsis of one of the passages. “You want… you want to have…”

“Sex.” you reply casually. “You have heard of it?” you joke. “You paint our encounters so colorfully in your little stories, I assumed you were far from a virgin. Or at least well-versed in porn.”

Stephen can feel his throat closing up, shifting in his seat as he engages with you, his mouth in a permanent gaping position, looking for an opportunity to get a word in. “No, no.” He shakes his head, gesturing to himself at his chest. “You don’t understand, I don’t know what you’re talking about- honest!”

“Mr. Glass.” you chide with a playful curl to your lips. Your hands grip the edges of the wood, leaning towards him as if you’re exchanging coy secrets. “Don’t be modest, you’d make a killing in the fictional industry. Whatever are you doing at The New Republic?”

He rallies, sharply inhaling through his nose. “Let me just get out of your hair, and we can forget this whole thing happened—” he pleads, and in an effort to remove himself from the confrontation, he rises from his seat. Your hand gives him a firm push at his chest, planting his ass right back where it belongs.

“Mr. Glass, by all means I’m not keeping you here against your will, but need I remind you: I am not to be trifled with. Forgive me for being indelicate, but why not have the real thing?”

A second of silence passes, and Stephen gulps. You stand, and return to your chair behind your desk. “Think about it.” you tell him, and he takes it as his cue to leave, hastily gathering himself to stride towards the exit. 

[keyotos]

"you came?"

"you called!" you cheerily moved past neuvillette. "of course i came. it's not like i had anything better to do," you shrugged as you entered his office.

you're leaving wet footprints all around the carpet. your hair is dripping and your clothes are sticking to your body. from the time when you arrived at his office doorstep to now, neuvillette deduced that you probably sprinted over to the office. even though your workshop was on the other side of town.

"don't you have...work?" neuvillette cautiously walked towards you.

you, on the other hand, did not give a care in the world to your current predicament. "like i said, nothing else better to do."

"but," you carried on, "hanging out with the chief justice is something to do. not having to listen to people with lack of common sense," you rolled your eyes as you browsed neuvillette's bookshelf.

the chief justice tailed closely behind you. though, not because he was suspicious: more of, for once, he did not want to be alone today. hence, why he called you. and why he especially hoped you weren't going to show up.

"it was pouring outside today. aren't you worried you're going to get sick?" he crosses his arms while looking towards you.

you frown, "no? the rain feels nice. like a nice shower i haven't had in years," you push some of neuvillette's papers to the side as you sit down on his desk.

"you haven't showered yet?"

silence.

"it was a metaphor," you embarrassingly look down to the ground below you, "i showered last night."

"oh." hm. the air suddenly seems to be more awkward now.

"yeah," you toyed with some of the pens on his desk, "anyway. why did you call me over here?"

neuvillette's solemn expression made you raise an eyebrow. his eyes shifted from you to the books that surround the both of you. either he was embarrassed of calling, or he called you by accident and felt awkward about telling you to leave.

"it's nothing," he shifted back towards you.

you pout a little bit, "doesn't seem like nothing," you murmur to yourself.

neuvillette shuffles around the room, stiffly avoiding you as you watch him eye the shelves, "i assure you, it was nothing."

"well," you refute, "you don't call on me often. actually, you don't call me...ever," you point an accusing finger at him. "so whatever it is, it seems kinda urgent."

"i accidentally called you," he lied.

"you had to type my phone number into the landline!" you shouted whilst contorting your eyebrows. neuvillette's eyes move back to the ground after your small outburst, and regret sinks into your stomach.

he's stressed⎯big time. the last thing you think he needs is someone yelling at him, and after realizing that, it feels as though your heart has shriveled up into your chest. you rub at your temples, quietly mumbling something to yourself before staring at neuvillette in front of you.

"i'm sorry," your eyes dart up and down his figure, not knowing where to stay, "i didn't mean to shout. i was just shouting out of worry. not that it makes it better though."

"if you don't wanna talk about it, i don't need to know about it," you smile at him, "there."

"thank you," the chief justice returns his gaze back to you once more, and gives you a small smile back. you nod at him gently before continuing.

"there's no need to thank me," you clasp your hands together in your lap, "it's nothing. let's talk about something else now."

and so you two talk. you two talk a lot. your conversations range from the recent trials in the opera house to the newest customer that you wanted to strangle today. neuvillette advises you not to strangle people. you say that you can't promise it.

and it's quiet for a while. neuvillette's heart, which had been rapidly drumming in his chest prior to your arrival, has slowed. his breathing was even with you around, and all those heavy feelings from before have disappeared.

"and after that stressful day i had today, i feel a lot better after coming in here," you finish your overview of your day with your hands splayed across neuvillette's desk.

"really?" one of neuvillette's eyebrows quirked up in curiosity, "why?"

you snort, like he had just asked a dumb question, "you're one of the most interesting parts of my days. plus, i barely ever see you, so this is always fun."

this is always fun. neuvillette feels his heart rate speed up slightly, but he chalks it up to something else.

"is it now?" he drums his fingers on the armrest of the chair he is now sitting in, "i never thought i could be so entertaining."

you shrug, "eh. you have your moments," you tease and wink at him. one of his hands grips the armrest.

"anyway," you continue, getting off of his desk and sitting in one of the chairs across from him (he wonders why you chose not to do that earlier), "since you think you're so entertaining, we should probably do this more often."

"i suppose i could make it work. maybe i'd have to find time to fit you in my schedule though," neuvillette looks down to skim his calendar, but his eyes snap back up to you after hearing you sigh.

"wow. the chief justice doesn't have any time for me," you make a heart-breaking motion with your hands as you woefully shake your head.

his eyebrows quickly shoot up in worry; neuvillette hopes he hadn't just offended you. his motions are hesitant as he attempts to reach out for you to console you, but his hands remain on the armrest, still as ever.

in the end, he manages to say, "i assure you that we will meet soon. i will make time for you if you desire," in a calm voice, even though he feels frantic inside.

you shake your head again, this time with a small smirk on your face, "oh chief justice, i was just pulling your leg," you scoot your chair closer to the desk so you could properly face neuvillette, "but i will be holding you to that, 'we will meet soon,' offer."

"and it won't be under the circumstances of an 'accidental call,'" neuvillette jokes. your eyes widen. did the iudex of fontaine just make a joke?

"wow. who knew you had a sense of humor," you grinned, sounding impressed.

"oh? i guess i picked it up from you," he hid his growing smile from you.

and the next time you two meet, neuvillette thinks he's picked up more than just humor.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Dearly Beloved 🔞 Final.

In which you've got a crush on your coworker- and a stalker problem.

Tags/Warnings: I do not condone any of Jungkooks questionable actions, this is fiction, soft Yandere!Jungkook, stalking, criminal actions (trespassing, stealing), obsession, he's really not quite right in the head, mc is kind of stupid for not involving police but wbk

Additional Chapter Warnings: insert 'oh no' tiktok meme here.

Length: long?

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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He's gonna do it. He has to. What if he misses his chance? You already love him.

You just don't know it yet.

But the entire day at the office, someone steals your attention away. There's always someone standing at your desk, asking pointless things, chasing you around like a slave for things that could've been a fucking e-mail. Why do you need to go and copy something for Yaerin when she's got to working legs?

Maybe if she didn't wear those high heels she constantly trips in she would be able to do her job correctly. Or maybe she's simply a viper, trying to work you down until you burn out, unable to offer this place anymore of your energy. She's done it before. She'll do it again.

People like her disgust him. She's rotten to the core, especially considering how she constantly soils the office seats in the meeting room with her disgusting perfume every time she fucks another one of the higher ups in there. He knows it's happening, has walked in on her and a CEO once- and while he told her that her secret was safe with him, he really only did it to have something up his sleeve if he ever needed her for something.

Does that make him just as rotten as her? Maybe. But all is fair in love and war.

He can't help but fidget at this point, watching how you clearly try and stay nice to a coworker currently attempting to convince you to go drinking with everyone after this shift. You don't like karaoke, you don't even drink in social settings because it makes you anxious- Jungkook knows these things.

He would never ask something of you that you're not comfortable with- he'd take you out for your favorite fast food instead to eat it in the car while listening to crappy pop-songs on the radio. That's what you love.

You've mentioned it before. And he never forgets those things.

Who's that man to you anyways? He can sense the tenseness in your muscles as the guy leans on your table, clearly taking up space and showing that he's not going to leave anytime soon- and Jungkook feels his anger grow inside his chest. You don't like this guy. He needs to get him away from you.

"Uh- Steven, right?" Jungkook meekly asks, the man's face snapping to him with an annoyed smile.

"Yeah. What's up kook?" He jokes as if they're best buddies.

They're not. Jungkook couldn't care less if the guy died in a ditch.

"I think Yaerin wanted to talk to you about something being wrong with the calculations for last month?" Jungkook stammers, needing to uphold his image. And also, he can't help it- his emotions make him quiver a bit, muscles unable to stay still as he rubs his hands. "She said it's urgent." He presses.

That's actually only half a lie. It's not urgent- but that whore did want to talk to him about something. There probably won't be much talking involved except maybe a command to take his dick further down her throat- but Jungkook doesn't care what they do. The only thing he does care about is that he fucking leaves.

Which he does, finally, making Jungkook take in a deep breath as he watches the man walk off.

"Thank you so much." You say behind him, and when Jungkook turns around to look at you, you're gazing at him with such warm eyes he feels his trembling body levitate on nothing but thin air. Everything's alright again- if he could look at you like this for the next years of his life, he'd thank every god in existence for it. "I have.. a hard time telling people no." You sigh, running your hands over your face.

"That's.. that's fine." Jungkook nods, a little awkwardly, smiling back. "I'm not that.. good at it either." He chuckles, and you laugh along, already feeling a lot better.

"Do you.. uhm.." You look at your keyboard for a second before you lick your lips- is that new lipgloss you wear? Or did you eat something that stained them? Jungkook isn't sure, but he wants a taste. "Do you wanna.. grab a drink or two after work with me?" You wonder, rushing the sentence out, and Jungkook's lips part a little, eyes round and open as they stare you down with their boba-pearl charm.

"Uh- yes! Yes, sure!" He nods, closing his mouth, before he pats his pants, looking for his phone. "W-wait, I'll uh- I'll give you my number!" He rushes out, writing it down with trembling hands on a sticky note, before offering it to you, who smiles shyly.

"Alright!" You nod. "I'll.. see you tonight then?" You ask, and Jungkook nods, entire body set aflame.

"Tonight."

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He fucked up.

He fucked up.

He fucked up.

He's pacing in front of your door because you surely know. You had to have found out- there's no way you didn't. The moment you texted him, he knew you knew-

because he gave you the wrong number. In his panic, he gave you a number you already have.

Is the police on its way? Did you call the cops? Or another friend maybe to beat the shit out of him? You must be terrified, creeped out to no ends, and he can't blame you. What the hell did he even do? This isn't right.

"Jungkook?" You ask, ripping him out of whatever panicked episode he was going through, wild eyes staring at you who's looking at him with an unreadable expression.

It's quiet as you stare each other down, tension able to be cut with a knife for a good while, before you speak.

"You could've.. just said something." You mumble, and Jungkook isn't sure what you mean. There's a variety of things and situations this sentence could apply to- and he doesn't want to out himself if he's not caught yet. If there's just a simple chance of getting away with it, he will take it. "Do you... like me this much?" You ask, and he's swallowing thickly now.

You clearly want an answer, but he doesn't know in what context. What is he supposed to say.

"I mean, I knew something was off when.." you explain, playing with the strings of your hoodie as you fumble with your words. "When.. I wasn't scared." You admit.

"Because it was you all along."

His entire body grows cold, veins freezing over as he gets his confirmation. You know. You know, and you're probably going to tell him next that you've already asked for a restraining order-

Wait. What do you mean by you weren't scared?

"Do you want to.. come in with permission this time?" You ask, trying to lighten the mood, but he's confused. This isn't the reaction he thought he'd get.

"I-" he starts, stammers. "I'm sorry." He presses out. "I don't.. I just-" he fails to find appropriate words because he really doesn't know why he's like this. He knows it's a problem, he knows he's sick- it's obvious, that little sane part of him is aware of the pure wrongness of his actions up until now.

"I know." You say, nodding, before you step aside to let him inside.

"I can't." Jungkook denies. "I can't- I shouldn't, I'm not- don't let me in, don't ever let me in-" he worries, unsure what's wrong with him now. Is this what realization feels like?

If that's the case, he wants to go back to insanity, because this is torturous.

"Its fine." You reassure. "You're.. I'd really hate to see you leave right now." You deny, offering compassion. "You're not well right now." You say, and he agrees.

But he's never been well ever since he met you almost a year ago.

He'll never be well.

"You're too.. you shouldn't. I might hurt you." He explains in a hurry.

"You won't." You deny. You're not sure why you're so convinced about it- maybe because he's had the chance to hurt you so many times and didn't. Or maybe because you're so lonely that you'll take this love no matter how tainted it is.

"Please come inside." You ask once more.

And slowly, with great hesitance, does he enter your home, painfully wringing his hands as if to keep himself occupied.

"When my mom had a brain stroke, years ago, she changed a lot." You explain, walking in to fill up two glasses of water before you set them on the coffee table in the living room area, sitting down on the couch right after- inviting him.

He takes the invitation. His eyes sting with unshed tears.

"She suddenly hated me. Hated almost everyone." You remember. "The doctors said that it can happen. That if we.. injure just a tiny little specific part of our brains, our whole personality changes." You retell, and Jungkook listens, unsure where to look now.

He's been here before, but he's never seen the apartment with the lights on.

"But we still got along until she passed." You nod. "She went to therapy, and reconnected with me and her old friends." You say.

"I'm.. I think I know what you're suggesting-" he says, before he puts his face in his hands. "But I don't want to." He denies.

"Why not?" You worry with a soft tone. "Jungkook, you're not a bad person. You just need help." You offer.

"But what if my love for you is just mental illness?!" He yells out, panicked, eyes now leaking tears. "I don't want them to kill that. I want to stay- I want to stay sick if it means that I still love you.." he weeps, looking at you with desperation.

"Then we'll rebuild it." You shrug easily. "I'll make you love me again." You say, and Jungkook breaks.

"C-can I touch you?" He whimpers from the other side of the couch. "Just a bit?" He wonders, and you nod, opening your arms.

Welcoming him, because he's not a threat or a danger or a monster.

He's just a little sick.

[hannahssimblr]

That evening after I drive home the house is a battlefield. As soon as I let myself into the hallway the sounds of some escalating conflict are sweeping through from the kitchen, but it doesn’t surprise me. It’s been this way for months. I just toss my car keys onto the table and head upstairs. 

“Think about the way you make me live!” My mother shrieks as I shuffle through my desk drawer to retrieve my iPod and the noise cancelling headphones I use for my laptop. My dad says something in response, his rumbling tones infuriatingly calm, unfazed. He always speaks to her with such a patronising air of reasonableness, so honestly it’s no wonder she’s going insane.

“Ivy?” I knock on her bedroom door, “I’m back. Can I come in?”

Her voice is quiet within, “Yeah.”

“Hey, what’s up?” The noise from downstairs is louder I come inside, but Ivy’s room is right above the kitchen. I know she has been listening. She is perched on her bed kneading a corner of her blanket in her little hands, body tense and static like a startled cat. 

Mom raises her voice even further in shocked outrage, “What are you saying? Do you regret our children?”

“I just bought a cool new album,” I say, “do you want to hear it?”

“What’s it called?”

“Contra. You remember Vampire Weekend, right?”

“Um...”

“You liked their last album.”

“Did I?”

“Here,” I climb to my knees in front of her and plop the headphones onto her head. They’re big on her and want to slip down towards her jaw until i carefully adjust them while she watches me with interest. Everything I do is interesting to Ivy, even my thumb circling the dial on my iPod as I navigate to the first song on the album. I grin into her face, “can you hear me?”

She nods, so I crank it up, “how about now?”

She gasps, “It’s so loud! I can’t hear you!” 

“Good,” and I sit right by her, on the floor by her bed while she lays back and tries to hum along to songs she's never heard before. She does it in mom's car every time the radio comes on, which is apparently irritating, but I don't think so. She's a musical kid who is just trying to work something out in her head.

As I listen to her weird little melodies I doodle with a ballpoint pen I found in the pocket of my jacket. I've flipped to the back page of one of her school copy books, and I know she doesn’t mind, she can bring them into school and tell her classmates that she did them if she likes. 

Every now and again pieces of the argument are clear enough to understand, mostly mom’s side. “You do nothing around here, what are you talking about?” She screams, “You just sit in your office all night and-” some muffled aggression. Then at one point she brings up Fergal from work, which is a poor choice, because it really sets dad off. I know this because I finally hear a shocked “how dare you!” from him, which seems fair, actually. 

Fergal from work is her boyfriend. Or was, maybe, I don’t ask. All I know is that Fergal from work exists and that my mother was having an affair with him for, like, two years or something. I googled him when I first started hearing his name thrown around like daggers through the rooms of this house, and he’s pretty much how you might imagine a Fergal. He’s older, weedier and less good looking than my father, with hair so fine and light that his eyebrows are hardly visible and a hairline like the tide has gone out on it, but his smile is sort of kind. His LinkedIn picture has him smiling broadly and the lines on his face and around his eyes suggest that he’s spent a good chunk of his life doing just that. Smiling. Aside from likely being nice, he’s probably ten times more interesting than Christopher too, which has to be the real selling point. I bet that listens to her when she talks to him and makes her laugh, if she’s still capable of that, so I can’t really be angry with her about Fergal. I might have done the same thing as she did if I ever felt so trapped.  

I must be listening too obviously because Ivy slips the headphones off. “What are they saying?”

“Stupid shit, Ives, it’s not interesting.”

She pauses and says in a very small voice, “Do you think they’ll get a divorce?”

I turn to her, “They might. But I don’t think it’d be such a bad idea. Do you?”

She shrugs. 

“At least if they divorced they’d stop fighting.” At least eventually.

“They fight a lot,” she whispers, “I hate it.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What will happen to us? What if neither of them wants us?”

This surprises a laugh right out of me, “It's not like they'll have a choice. Did you think we’d get thrown into an orphanage or something?”

“Maybe.”

“I think you’ve been reading too many of those Jacqueline Wilson books about the kids from broken homes. Next time we go to the library we’ll get you something a bit less sad and tragic, do you think?”

She shrugs, but I'll get her into Goosebumps yet. I am determined.

“You want to know what I think?”

 A nod.

“I think them being divorced would actually be fine, because at least they wouldn’t be doing this all the time,” I tilt my head toward the floor, shaking with the reverberation of the slamming patio door, “And also we probably wouldn’t have to be around dad half as often.”

Ivy looks conflicted, “Well I don’t not want a dad.”

I almost tell her that Christopher isn’t that interested in his role as her father and the way that he interacts, or more accurately fails to interact with her, is not normal, even if it’s what she’s used to, and that I bet Fergal would be a better dad, but I figure it’s probably not the wisest to mention any of that. 

“He’ll still always be your dad, just like how mom will always be your mom and I’ll always be your brother, you know? No matter what happens or how things change. You're made from him, you know? That doesn't just go away.”

“I don’t want change.”

“Everything changes, all of the time.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. Things move on whether you like it or not, and you have to accept it.”

Her eyes fill with tears, “I don’t want you to move away either.”

“No, c’mon,” I scramble onto her bed and pull her into my chest, “I know, but I can’t stay here forever, I’m an adult now, I’m going to have to go, but it’s not right away…” 

“Yes, but soon.”

I hesitate, “Oh, Ivy, it’s, like-”

“And then it’ll be just me, and everything will be different,” as tears overflow I understand that it’s not just about this, it’s about everything, all of the chaos and the disruption that I cannot fix. I just shush her and rock her side to side. It’s hard for her, but I refuse to lie to her about what might happen. 

“I need to move away, I feel like I don’t have another option.”

“But why?”

“I- I think you’ll get it when you’re older, maybe. It's just very important to me.”

“I won’t see you anymore.”

“Yes you will, maybe not as much, but you’ll get used to it really quickly. And imagine if I went to college somewhere really exciting, you could come and see me and we could do all kinds of fun stuff, yeah? Like if I’m in Paris, imagine, I could take you to Disneyland.”

She sniffles, “Paris?”

“Yeah, you loved Paris a couple of years ago, right?”

She nods and rubs her eyes, “Could we try and go up the Eiffel Tower again?”

“Duh, and you’d be old enough not to be so scared.”

“Maybe-” a thick swallow “maybe even your new house would have a balcony and we could see it from there.”

“Oh, for sure, and we’d get pastries from the bakery downstairs in the mornings, they'd just so happen to be best ones ever, and there’d be a man playing the accordion outside- no, everywhere, like, no matter where we go, he’s there with his swirly little French Guy moustache...”

She giggles, “Is he following us around?”

“Oh, yeah, a total stalker, actually. Maybe we’d have to call the French police on him.” 

We both laugh as she dries her face with her sleeves. Coming up with all the very French things we would do in Paris, every detail down to the layout of my beautiful Haussmann style apartment overlooking the Seine is nice.

I'm not stupid, of course, I know perfectly well that the reality of a move to Paris would involve me and Michelle stuffed into a Chambre de Bonne tiny enough to touch both walls at the same time, tripping over half baked art projects and every possession we own, our pent up frustration causing us to have screaming matches that would wake up the whole arrondissement, but it’s nice to be an idealist for a minute or two. 

“Where else could you live?” she asks me once we’ve exhausted all of the parisian stereotypes and run out of hypotheticals. 

“Hmm, how about Amsterdam?”

“Oh! Anne Frank lived there, we read the book at school last year.”

I tell her that yes, if I lived there I’d take her to see the house with that stairway hidden behind the bookcase, and then we would... cycle around the place and annoy everyone because she’s so unsteady on her bike. I make up a story about how she keeps swerving out of her lane and getting in everybody's way, eventually causing a giant bike pile up along the canal like some sort of rat king of Dutch cyclists.

“Where else!”

“Um, Berlin...” and I purse my lips and try to think of things to do in Berlin that are appropriate for a nine year old, but for some reason all I can think of is a surly line of leather clad druggies in front of a techno club. “They like going to nightclubs, I guess…”

“I can go to a nightclub.”

“Yeah, as if! You’d hate it, it’s just loud music and everyone bumping into you. Hey, you know there’s one nightclub in Berlin that’s so exclusive that they only let the coolest people in Europe inside? You have to wait in line for hours and if they think you’re even a little bit uncool then they send you home.”

Her eyes get wide, “Really? Hm. I think I could get in.”

The idea of Ivy being let into Berghain makes me guffaw, “Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Yeah I’m cool enough!”

“No you aren’t.”

“I am,” she leaps up and pretends to strangle me while I hold her at arm's length, “there’s no such thing as a cool nine year old.”

“There’s no such thing as a cool eighteen year old either.”

“Uh! There is, you're looking at one. I would get into that club, no doubt.”

“No you wouldn’t, they wouldn’t even let you in the line.”

“Nah, they’d beg me to come in because I’d make it cooler.”

“They’d see you coming and pretend to be closed.”

As we laugh and make stupid, childish jokes at one another I’m aware of an acceptance I feel with her that I don’t around other people. I’m never really so blatantly stupid and goofy in public, but Ivy, who has become my favourite person in the world, no matter what I do or say it’s funny, and she never thinks I’m weird, at least not in a bad way. I can fully let my guard down. Even though the fighting has stopped I don't really want to leave, but the moon has risen now, and the grasshoppers are chirping. Ivy has to sleep.

I gather up my headphones and iPod and get up, despite her protests and attempts to come up with more funny things we might do as we galivant through fictional Europe.

“You're stalling,” I say, “you know well you have to go to sleep now.”

“No, no! Just one more thing!”

“Nope! Sorry! And don’t forget to brush your teeth, or I’ll tell dad.”

She pulls her ugliest face. She knows I’d never, but it’s funny, like telling a christian kid that Satan is watching.

I shut the door very gently. It's not particularly late, maybe ten, but the house is morgue quiet, almost eerie, like the aftermath of a hurricane. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[berry-club]

-Office 119-

Minors dni

Contains: Office romance, love at first sight,  pegging, blowjob, femdom!reader sub!eunseok, Eunseok x afab. 4k words

You realised you are a dominant years before, you've never talked to anyone about it, let alone experienced it, you've tried regular sex a few times but you quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn't for you. Since then, everytime you started flirting with a man you would suddenly ghost him, scared that he would call you a freak and runaway if you tell him what you like to do in bed, at this point you just think you are better off alone. You're working at an office job, the salary is pretty good and you can spend your days daydreaming sitting at your desk which is perfect for an introvert like you. One day, your boss gather everyone in the office saying a new person is coming working here tomorrow, the desk next to yours happened to be vacant so your boss asks you to teach them everything you can. It's annoying, you don't like your routine to be disturbed, but you're not really in a position to refuse, you just hope they are a fastlearner.

The day after when you go to the office your boss is waiting for you in front of the building next to a man, your heart skips a beat when you see him, he's tall with broad shoulders, his suit is perfectly adjusted to his body, he has a sharp features and dark brown eyes that can see right through you, its actually unfair how much he's your type.

"Eunseok heres y/n, she's going to teach you everything you need to know, if you have a question just ask her, y/n I hope you can teach him well"

The man looks at you with a faint smile on his face and slightly pink cheeks.

"Nice to meet you y/n."

"Nice to meet you Eunseok."

All three of us go in the elevator, your arm slightly touch eunseok's and he immediately backs away almost like you burned him, you're kinda offended by that, but whatever.

You try not to be too upset about it and push your thoughts away so you can get to work.

You explain everything to him as clearly as possible, he listens very carefully your explanations, asks you some questions, and gets to work, you're actually amazed at how good he is, he did not make a single mistake or make you repeat yourself, you're almost a little sad you're not that much needed.

You quickly get back to your work now you have some catch up to do, a few hours passed in a blink of an eye, focus on your screen, suddenly in the corner of your eyes you see a hand gently putting a cup of coffee on your desk, you turn around and see Eunseok.

"Noona, thank you for teaching me I hope you can rely on me in the futur"

"Oh don't worry about it, i'm glad I could help"

Eunseok returns to his desk next to yours and sits on his chair, you can't help but stare at him, his straight posture and his perfect side profile makes him look like he's on a magazine cover. You keep thinking about how pretty he would look showered in pleasure, you blush realising your dirty thoughts at the man you just met and start feeling a little guilty.

The days passed and eunseok becomes more and more skillful he doesn't have anything to ask you anymore, from time to time he brings a drink at your desk, still grateful to everything you taught him. Occasionally when you take a look him you both end up making eye contact making things awkward for a minute but you just can't stop yourself from staring at him.

On a random day, you're eating lunch with another female colleague, making small talk, when she suddenly asks.

"You know that new guy eunseok, he's so handsome but what's up with his attitude?"

"What are you talking about??"

"I mean I just met him in the cafeteria and at the photocopier a few times but he's so cold, barely answering when you talk to him, such a waste of a pretty face"

"Eunseok!?"

You can't hide your confusion ,you can't believe what she just said, you remember eunseok with a slight smile on his face, tenderness in his eyes and sweetness in his voice, bringing you drinks, there is no way you are talking about the same man. Your day goes by and you can't help but think about what your colleague had said to you everytime you see eunseok. The day ends, yoj go home and lie on your bed still thinking about that conversation you had, but after all, you know your colleague is very nosy and she can be pretty annoying sometimes, you decide to not  read too much into it and just go to sleep.

A few weeks later passes without much going on, you have a good relationship with eunseok, you both help each other when needed, you sometimes eat lunch with him just making random discussions, nothing is really special with your relationship, just two colleagues getting along well, you already gave up having anything more than that with him so it's good enough for you.

One day at work, you decide to do some sorting, you ask eunseok for help to move some heavy boxes around, you both go into a cramped storage room where you two can barely fit.

"Can you take those 2 boxes please?"

You point your finger to the boxes, on a shelf being too high for you, eunseok reaches the boxes on top of the shelf his shirt slightly tightening in the movement.

"Oh wait i need that"

While his arms are still raised going for the boxes, you reach for some stationary behind him, your cheek barely touching his back.

Eunseok jumps at the touch, taking a big step back, going as far away as he can in that small room, he looks a little puzzled, you instantly remind yourself of the first day you met him and how he jumped away from you in the elevator.

"Oh right you hate when I touch you, i'm sorry for making you uncomfortable i'll be careful from now on."

You do your best not to look too awkward, quickly trying to reach the door handle to get out of here as fast as you can, you could die of embarrassment right now.

"Noona wait!"

You froze, his pleading voice makes your face feel hot for a second. You turn around to take a look at him, he's is blushing like crazy, looking everywhere in the room, doing everything he can not to meet your gaze. He looks hesitant and say.

"I- I don't hate it, it's just... ever since I met you, when you touch me I don't know what to do with myself, please don't think I hate it."

You're a little taken aback by his response, you didn't expect him to feel that way about you and being so honest about it.

"Does that mean I can touch you?"

Eunseok nods, looking straight at you with his deep eyes.

Your head gets empty, you can't think of anything else but to touch him. You close the gap between him and you, put your hand on him, gently caressing his chest over his shirt, you watch him close his eyes in anticipation, you start going over his nipple gently playing with it  with your finger while your other hand touches his waist, your heart is beating faster you feel a rush inside you, he's biting his hand to refrain for making any noise.

"Wait noona-"

His voice makes you stop immediately, realising you are at work and it's not the place nor the time to do things like that.

"Sorry let's stop here."

You quickly get out of the room without looking back, going to the bathroom locking yourself trying to process what just happened, your heart beating even faster, you can't believe what you just did, it's like your body acted on its own.

After calming down for a few minutes, you return to your desk, eunseok is already back to his, none of you dare to look at the other, you just avoid each other for the rest of the day which seemed to last forever.

Finally home you're still reminiscing about what happened, everytime you close your eyes you keep seing his face, him being so sensitive and all submissive to your touch, you start to think that maybe if it's him he won't runaway.

A few days passes and to your disappointment everything gets back to normal, you would do everything to see that expression on his face again but you have no idea how to bring that up, you're more of an introvert, not used to starts the conversation, then you notice that eunseok seems to avoid you, you keep questioning yourself, maybe he actually regrets it, maybe he hated you now,  maybe you went too far... you're trying to decide if it's better to apologize or leave him alone.

One time your boss decides to bring everyone at a restaurant after work, it's basically hell for you, you try your hardest not to look at eunseok sitting in front of you, his loose tie, his shirt a little bit open, you could see his clavicles and his adam's apple. Your body wanted to stare at him and touch him everywhere, but you mostly didn’t want him to hate you even more. The evening passes and everyone goes home one by one and now its just the 2 of you. The mood is so awkward it's almost hard to breathe, you're getting ready to leave fast before making him even more uncomfortable, then eunseok says.

"Do you want me to call you a cab?"

You're so relieved to finally hear him talk to you.

"No need I live around the corner i'll walk."

"It's late i'll go with you."

Eunseok looks at you with a hint of excitement waiting for your response.

"Sure, thanks" You couldn't possibly say no to that face anyway and why would you?

You gladly accept thinking that maybe he didn't think that bad of you.You start walking with eunseok in silence, the atmosphere is a little heavy but still way better than before, you quickly arrive in front of your apartment and start reaching for your keys in your bag, you pause looking at the door, you really want to stay with him a little more, you're thinking really hard to know if it's a good idea or a terrible one. You finally ask him.

"Do you wanna come in?"

You can see his eyes light up as he nods.

The two of you go into your appartement, you let out a small sigh of relief when you remember cleaning it the day before. You pour eunseok a glass of water and you both make yourself comfortable on your couches, sitting in front of each other. You're thinking about a nice thing to say to him that could break the tension between you two.

"You know Eunseok I'm very proud of you"

Eunseok looks happy but a little confused by your unexpected compliment.

"You learned everything so fast you basically got to my level in the first week and i've been working here for years, it's almost scary" You chuckle.

"But it's thanks to you, you were the best teacher, you explained everything so clearly I couldn't help but learn fast"

You can feel the sincerity in his voice, you smile at his kind words, relieved to see that he thinks that way about you.

"Thank you I needed to hear that"

Eunseok smiles, you both are silent for a few seconds then eunseok starts to be fidgety, his ears slightly getting pink, playing with his hands looking at his glass of water on the table.

"You know, I can't stop thinking about last time in the store room."

You can see at his face that he's remembering how good he felt, your eyes grow larger, you're so happy you're not the only one who has been replaying the scene over and over in your head, you come closer to eunseok sitting next to him. You decide to just go for it and in an instant you put your lips on his neck, eunseok jumps a little in surprise but doesn't back away, you keep nibbling at his neck hearing his breathing getting a little faster, you get closer to his ears and see them being bright red. You whisper sofltly in his ear.

"Do you want more?"

Eunseok nods, you put your hands on his tie and remove it, throwing it on the ground, you also remove some of the buttons of his shirt and start sliding your hand in it to touch his chest while still kissing his neck, eunseok shivers at your touch while you begin to touch his nipple, you can feel eunseok trying his best to hold back his voice, poor boy is so sensitive. You back away from his neck and look him in the eyes.

"Its just the two of us now, no need to refrain from making noises okay? Let me hear everything."

"Yes.."

Eunseok is so obedient, you would probably be mortified by how he treats anyone that isn't you. Ignoring everyone he doesn't want to talk to, women grabbing him by the arm trying to flirt while he just pushes them away with a cold face not even giving them a reaction. You sit on top of his thigh and put your hand on his face gently squishing it before kissing his lips, you slowly start putting your tongue, your hand grabbing his shoulder while the other is still under his shirt stroking his nipple.

"Eunseok"

You say in between kisses, you can't help but want to call his name making sure he knows he belongs to you right now. Your tongue going deeper inside his mouth, you can feel his bulge grow larger against your knee everytime you say his name. You start playing with his bulge with your knee slowly going further in. Eunseok doesn't dare to touch you, he lets you in control, he's all in your hands now ready to accept everything you'll do to him. You use one of your hand to touch his crotch through his pants, you can feel he's already hard, his pants looking like its gonna explode his dick begging to be free, he badly wants to remove his pants but you still want to play with him a little more. You get out of him and go on your knees in front of him, putting your face up his crotch and your hands grabbing his thighs, putting kisses and sucking on the fabric, you wish you could see the face he's making right now but everytime you try to see, his head is looking at the celling, his chest doing quick movements, panting more and more.

After some time his pants are wet by your spit, eunseok wants to beg you to set him free but he wouldn't dare giving you an order. After seeing him struggle making all kind of erotic sounds, you finally unzip his pants and pull down his underwear, revealing his dick already leaking in precum, the size is not too small and not too big, it's the perfect size to take care of, the tip is bubble gum pink looking like a candy waiting to be tasted. You can't help but put him whole in your mouth in one go, playing with his uretra with your tongue, going back and forth, doing all sort of sloppy noises tasting it as much as you can, sucking hard on it, you can feel it twitching in your mouth. You're so focus on tasting him you don't realise he's already about to cum.

"W-wait noona ugh"

Before he can cum, you decide you want to be somewhere more comfortable your knees was starting to hurt on the carpet and you really wanted to savor the moment, thinking it would be a shame to not see the face he's gonna make while he cums. You stop, get up, grab him by the arm and bring him to your bedroom, Eunseok follows you without any questions, you push him on your bed and you can't wait to make a mess out of this man. You get on top of him and start undressing him, he's now only in his undies, you can finally take a good look at his body, everything about it is so pretty, slightly carved abs, cute nipples and a tiny waist perfect for you to grab. You couldn't believe the sight, a man was lying in your bed, his eyes begging you to touch him and do everything you want with him, it's all you've ever dreamed of. You lean on him, putting kisses everywhere you can, his neck, abs, thighs, he's shaking and moaning when you start playing with his nipple with your tongue. You slide your right hand is his undies to play with his balls while gently biting his nipple, his legs spreading and his knees bending as you do so you can reach all the right places, he can't help but groan and pant at the stimulation. You stop playing with his balls to use your middle finger to tease his hole, he shivers and moan at the touch.

"Can I?"

Eunseok still panting "yes.. please"

You can barely contain the excitement of his response, you remove his underwear and take him in your mouth once again while putting your middle finger in him, slowly going back and forth, up and down, left and right, you then put your ring finger and start bending them to reach his prostate, eunseok's hips shaking and raising almost imploring you to do even more, his dick deep in your mouth getting even harder. You can hear his moans getting heavier. Your hand go faster while you lick his dick inside your mouth, his hole clenching almost about to break your fingers in half.

"Too much.. I'm gonna-"

eunseok bites his bottom lip, his dick twitching more and more, his hole pulsing, you remove his dick from you mouth so he can cum on his stomach, while youre still playing with his prostate, the orgasm washes over him like he got struck by lightning, his hips raising and trembling like crazy making loud moans, grabbing the mattresse so hard you can see his veins popping out.

"Ahh.. ahh..."

His breathing is so fast, the sight makes you so wet you can't believe you're the one responsible for his state, his eyes half closed and watering looking like he just went to heaven, while he calms down still looking dizzy, you get of your bed and open a box next to it, you take a strap-on out of it, you're so happy to finally have a use for it, you bought it a few months ago cause you were wondering what you would look like with one around your hips, you clumsily put it on and get on top of eunseoks chest putting your strap on near his face, he's still being hazy, excited for what comes next.

"Can you do that for me eunseok?"

Your voice almost sounding a little mean.

He quickly understands, nods and open his mouth, letting you fuck it as you wish, going in and out hitting the back of his throat. The sight makes you feel so good almost like he was really sucking your dick, watching your strap-on disappearing in his mouth. The sloppy sounds he makes are driving you crazy, you grab him by the head to go faster Eunseok is groaning grabbing the sheets of the beds, drooling all over your strap-on, you slowly caress his cheek.

"Such a good boy"

Eunseok flushes at your words, something about you prasing him always make him so happy.

After your strap-on is covered and his spit, you get out of him and turn him on all four,

His behind is so pretty, his hole is twitching and throbbing waiting for you, you almost wanna eat it but you decide to keep that for another time. You put two fingers into him going left and right making sure his hole is stretched enough to welcome you, you start putting the tip of your strap-on to his hole teasing it, still dripping in his saliva.

"I'll go slowly, if its uncomfortable make sure to tell me ok?"

"Okay..."

You slowly and as gently as possible put your strap-on inside of him, eunseok is holding his breath while the whole thing goes inside him, you let him get used to you for a moment and start going back and forth at a slow pace, Eunseok moans and grabs the sheets like he's holding on for dear life, you use your hands to grab his waist, making him arch his back with your touch while he burries his face in your pillow, you see his hips trying to grind even more towards you, you start going faster and his moans are getting louder, your strap hitting all of his good spots, tickling his prostate over and over you can hear him whine everytime you hit the right places, and each time the back of your strap-on hits your cunt it feels so good you let out some moans too, you grab and pinch his butt making it a pretty shade of red while you're getting deeper into him.You can barely hear him say "noona" again and again inside your pillow, he raises his hips high removing your strap on from him and cums on your sheets, shivering and breathing shakily, his feet kicking the bed, his knees giving up he's now lying on his stomach breathing hard through the sheets, you take this time to calm yourself down too, after a moment he gathers himself, turns around to sit and put his back against the headboard.

You both look at each other glancing up and down, he looks so cute with his hair in a mess, then eunseok realises.

"but noona you didn't-"

"stay still"

Eunseok watches you silently while you remove your strap-on, pants, panties and your bra, letting you with only a thin white shirt, Your perky nipples showing through it. You get on top of his leg and starts grinding against it, your cunt dripping everywhere on his leg, you take one of his hand and put it on your waist while you put yours on his chest for support. Eunseok widen his eyes at your move, it's his first time actually touching you, something about it feels wrong like he's doing something he shouldn't do, he worships you so much it feels to him like he's touching a goddess. Seeing you jump on his leg, your breast going up and down behind your shirt, while using him like a sextoy almost makes him go insane, you keep humping on his legs while you french kiss him and moan in his mouth, you grind faster and deeper, his soft skin against your folds feels so good, it doesn't take long for you to come, your cunt was already throbbing from the beginning. A strong shiver goes over all of your body, your nails digging in eunseok's skin. You take a minute to rest on his chest, he gently pets your head and kisses your hair while you calm your breathing.

After a moment of hugging each other you both go in the bathroom washing each other, eunseok looks at you with big puppy eyes full of affection.

"You should sleep here, i'll wash your clothes and change the sheets."

Eunseok agrees and you both go to sleep, like an habit eunseok snuggles in your arms while you touch his silky hair, you both fall asleep and the awkwardness between you two totally vanished like you've known each other for years.

[cowgurrrl]

Never Thought

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: IM A GODDAMN MACHINE also fic named after this song :D

Summary: You meet the Millers [3.5k]

Warnings: questionable Hollywood motives, Joel being vulnerable, the cutest goddamn found family, probably incorrect foster case/adoption timeline, talks of the foster care system, Tommy being a little shit, yearning idiots

Trouble in Paradise? Everything We Know About the Fight Between Everyone's Favorite Couple

Joel Miller Spotted Landing in LAX ALONE

Lucky Guitarist in Central Park Saw Joel Miller and Girlfriend Before Leaving Her in NYC: "They looked pretty in love when I saw them."

"Do you realize how bad this looks?!" Melanie asks as she paces behind her desk. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, fighting a headache, as she spirals. "Rumors are flying around that you guys had a massive argument backstage at the Tonight Show, and he left because he was pissed at you." 

"That's not even close to what happened." You say, and she throws her arms up.

"Please, tell me what happened then because I've been fielding calls from major news outlets wanting to know what we have to say." 

"His kid had an emergency. He went home early to take care of her. We didn't argue or have a falling out or anything like that. We actually had a really nice time."

"What kind of emergency?" She asks with a hawk-like determination in her eyes. Times like this make you realize that you never want to get on Melanie's bad side. When she's like this, she's absolutely lethal.

"I don't know." You shrug.

"You don't know?"

"It's not like we had a chance to talk about it! I did the interview, and by the time I was done, he was already on the way to the airport. He texted me that night to apologize and let me know that something was happening with his youngest."

"And it couldn't have been handled without him? If she needed her dad to come all the way home, she better have a fucking good reason."

"She's fourteen, Mel!" You snap, tired of hearing how much his leaving early affected her when something happened with his family. "Jesus Christ, she's a baby, and you're talking about her like she's an adult, which, even if she was, she has a right to call her dad for help," you say. She crosses her arms over her chest as she thinks, and you grab your bag from your chair. "I know these aren't the best circumstances, but I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you blame a child for a decision her father made." You wait for her to say more or argue with you, but she doesn't. You take a deep breath and reach for the door, more than ready to leave her and this conversation here.

"Why do you suddenly care so much about his kid?" She asks suddenly, and you turn to face her, your hand lingering on the doorknob. It feels like she's looking through you. Like she knows exactly what happened in New York but is waiting to see if you'll voluntarily come forward with it. "Wasn't a part of the contract to get involved with families." You shake your head and open the door.

"Then you shouldn't have paired me up with him." You say and leave her office. You're breathless by the time you get to your car. You've never left a conversation with Melanie like that, but you've also never heard her talk about a kid like that. It made your skin crawl to listen to her blame Ellie for just needing her dad. When the fuck did Hollywood get so ruthless that they have to use a fourteen-year-old as their scapegoat for something that's really not that big of a deal? 

You're fuming the whole way back to your house, and the LA traffic doesn't do anything to settle the anger in your chest. It's been three days since you got home from New York, and communication with Joel has been sparse. He let you know that he and the girls were okay and apologized again for leaving so abruptly, but that's been the extent of your conversation. Which is fine. You have laundry to do and scripts to read through. You're fine to keep busy, but sleep is a little harder to manage. 

You didn't realize that a couple nights sleeping in his arms would affect you so much. Now, every time you crawl into bed, the only thing you can think of is how big it is. Your dreams constantly replay your shared moments in New York, laughing together in the shower, walking hand-in-hand in Central Park, and the creases in the corners of his eyes. You didn't even realize that you were leaving space for a body that wasn't there until last night when you rolled into the cold space reserved for Joel and waited to hit his sleeping figure. For half a second, you considered getting a dog just so the house doesn't feel so empty.

You're folding laundry in your living room when your phone pings, interrupting the podcast you were listening to. You reach for it without a second thought, which you probably should've, considering you're still mad at Melanie, and see a text from Joel.

What are you doing tonight?

Joel Miller, you type. Are you trying to booty-call me?

Do you want me to booty-call you?

Maybe.

Well, I hate to disappoint, but I was gonna ask you to come visit the studio. I've got something I think you'll really like.

What's in it for me?

You leave your phone on the couch as you run upstairs to put your clean laundry away. You rush around your bedroom, stripping off the oversized, stained t-shirt you were wearing and putting on a vintage Talking Heads shirt with a pair of ripped jeans. You take a second to look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing down stray flyaways and swiping a layer of mascara on before running back downstairs. You feel like a teenager getting ready to see the boy she likes, and something in the back of your head wants to be annoyed, but nothing can bat away the butterflies in your stomach. As you grab your purse and shoes, your phone lights up on the couch.

I've got a couple surprises up my sleeve.

Attachment: Location

You smile and tell him you're leaving now. His studio is in the heart of West Hollywood, and you have to stop at a security gate before you're allowed to park in the back next to Joel's car. Somewhere beyond the gates, a camera flashes as you enter the building and follow the studio numbers until you get to the one Joel told you he'd be in. You knock lightly on the door, trying to be polite, but someone on the other side rips the door open abruptly. A big laugh sounds from the other side, and suddenly you're face-to-face with a young man with long dark curls and big brown eyes. 

"Oh, hi. I'm sorry, I'm looking for..." you trail off, glancing inside the studio until you make eye contact with Joel. He smiles and waves you in. "Him."

"Oh, you must be the girl Joel's been hidin' from us!" The man in front of you sends Joel a look as he opens the door wider to let you in, a similar twang peeking through his voice. When you fully step into the room, two girls are sitting on the couch across from Joel's chair at the soundboard, and you immediately recognize them as Sarah and Ellie. Sarah looks up and sends you a soft smile while Ellie stays focused on the rubber band she's wrapping around her fingers.

"Don't you go scarin' her! We wanna keep this one," Joel says as he stands and walks over to you. "This is my brother, Tommy. Don't pay him any mind." He says, and Tommy takes one of your hands in both of his and shakes it. 

"Pleasure to meet you," Tommy says, and you smile, your brain finally catching you with the fact that you're meeting Joel's family.

"It's nice to meet you, too," you recover. "I didn't know all the Miller men were so handsome!"

"Oh, I like her,"

"Alright, that's enough," Joel scolds and you and Tommy laugh. Sarah stands and jostles Ellie as she does, making her misfire the rubber band at the soundboard, and Joel shoots her a look. She groans and stands beside Sarah, putting on a half-hearted smile. "And these are my daughters, Sarah and Ellie." 

"It's really nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you guys." 

"I wish we could say the same. This one," Sarah jerks her thumb in Joel's direction. "Is a master at dodging questions."

"Well, I love questions." You say. 

You all settle once introductions are done, and you find yourself in awe of the dynamic the four of them have. Tommy and Joel are so at ease with each other, messing around and teasing one another, but still able to have conversations about the album art or release dates. Sarah and Ellie bombard you with questions, occasionally butting into their father and uncle's conversation to give their own opinions. And their questions are not the run-of-the-mill interview questions. No, their questions are deep, thought-provoking, unique questions that you enjoy teasing out with them. Joel was right about Sarah being a little bit more extroverted because she dominates a lot of the conversation, which you love and tell her as much.

"So many people are afraid to ask about things they're really passionate about, so it's cool to see you be so curious." You say, and a little blush takes over her cheeks. 

"Thanks," she says. "I'm glad you don't think I talk too much."

"Not at all. I like hearing what you have to say." You say and watch as she fights a smile. You catch Joel's eyes watching over you and the girls, something flashing behind his irises, and you nod to let him know you're okay.

Ellie is a little quieter but really likes hearing about the more technical part of filming something. You tell her all you know about cameras and sound equipment, even promising to take her to set with you one day to show her everything because Lord knows the industry could use more women in production. Eventually, she feels comfortable enough to slump next to you in all her teenage posture, still fiddling with the rubber band.

"Want me to show you something?" You ask quietly, and she furrows her brows before nodding. You reach for the rubber band, which she reluctantly passes to you, and you slide down to copy her position on the couch. "So, the key to this is aim. Power isn't super important, but it's always a little bit more fun," you instruct as you slide the rubber band over your index finger and thumb. "So, what you want to do is lock onto your target, pull this back, and then let it go. Like this," You go over the steps slowly before aiming the rubber band at Joel's head and snapping back, sending it flying through the air until it hits him.

"Ow! The hell?" Joel screeches, and you and Ellie laugh. 

"That was amazing!" Sarah giggles beside you, and you three dissolve into stupid, silly laughter. Tommy shakes his head and looks at Joel with a smile.

"You gonna let them do that to you?" He asks, and Joel takes a deep breath, taking in the sight of the three of you having the time of your life on the couch.

"'M outnumbered now."

"Sure are."

As the night progresses and you and the girls further slip into delirious giggles, you feel more and more comfortable with them. You're not sure what you thought would happen if and when you met them, but this is so easy and fun. Sarah tells you about the colleges she's applying to, and Ellie complains about her fingers hurting from trying to learn to play guitar. You advise Sarah about applications and even offer to read over some of her admissions essays, citing your BFA as your sole qualification. You're about to ask Ellie to play for you when Joel checks the time on his watch and slaps his hand over the watch's face. 

"Alright, 's gettin' late, and you guys have school in the morning."

"But Dad!" Ellie protests, and he shakes his head.

"No buts. You gotta get some sleep. Uncle Tommy'll take you home."

"Dad doesn't like when I drive. Like at all," Sarah says, and you laugh.

"No, Dad doesn't like when you drive, and it's ten o'clock in the city with the world's worst drivers." He corrects, and she rolls her eyes. Despite their little arguing, both girls walk over to Joel and give him hugs and kisses before following Tommy out the door.

"Hey," He gets Joel's attention as he stands in the threshold of the door, and Joel raises his eyebrows at him. "You bring her round more often, you hear?"

"I'll make sure he does." You say, and Tommy smiles at you, winking before he finally leaves. The second the door closes, Joel gets up from his chair and walks over to where you're sitting.

"Hi," he says quietly as he leans over you and kisses you sweetly. You hum against his lips, and he collapses next to you, grabbing your legs and resting them on his lap.

"Thanks for the heads up, by the way. Are your parents here too, or is it just them?"

"Why? You wanna meet 'em?" He asks, and you slap his arm. "They really liked you."

"You think so?" You ask, and he nods, gently squeezing your ankle.

"I know so. I haven't heard Ellie laugh like that in a good while." He says, and you take a deep breath. His warm hands massage your skin, and the studio is completely still, and it feels just like it did in New York. The thought comforts something deep within you, and you reach out to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He still needs a haircut, you think to yourself.

"Is she okay?" 

"She will be, yeah."

"What happened?" The question leaves you before you can stop, but he doesn't tense up or look panicky. He leans into your touch and focuses on the fraying hem of your jeans.

"She got in trouble at school. I still don't know the whole story 'cause she won't tell me, but she came home and took off on her bike. Tommy and Sarah drove around lookin' for her for bout an hour before they called me. They found her pretty soon after at a gas station, but it scared the shit outta me." 

"Oh, my God. That's so scary."

"Yeah," he says. "I... didn't handle it in the best way. I grounded her for a month and took away her bike. We got into a big fight about it, and I hate fightin' with her," he sighs. Even though this was days ago, you can see how much it weighs on him still. You wonder if anyone ever panicked that much about how they treated you as a child. "I thought goin' back to Texas would've helped her, but it didn't."

"They were in Texas with you?" You ask, and he nods. Suddenly, the voices in the background of your phone calls and the spottiness of your conversations make sense.

"They went a week earlier and left a week after me to keep the press off them. They also just really missed their grandparents. Figured it'd be a good idea to get 'em outta LA for a while." 

"Do their moms live in Texas too?" You get quiet as you ask about the women who brought Sarah and Ellie into the world. You may not know the whole story, but it also doesn't take a geneticist to figure out that Sarah and Ellie have different moms.

"No," he scoffs a laugh. "No, my parents are still in Texas, and Tommy lives there part-time, but that's really it."

"Where are their moms?"

"Sarah's mom left when she was a few months old. Divorced me and signed away her parental rights with the same pen. We haven't seen her since. I reach out to her folks every couple of years, but they never respond. They want nothing to do with either of us." He says, and your heart breaks for both of them. Sarah deserved to grow up with her mom, and Joel deserved to have a partner to help raise her, especially since he was so young.

"And Ellie's?"

"Never met her. Her name was Anna. The adoption agency told me she died a few hours after she gave birth. Left her a note but didn't have much else. No family, no husband, nothin'."

"Oh, I didn't know Ellie was adopted."

"It became official when she was twelve, but she's been with us since she was ten."

"Wow," you breathe, and he nods.

"Yeah," he says. "Sarah met her at school, and her foster home was just a shit hole, and she really just needed someone to take a chance on her. I still don't know why, but I got the paperwork filled out, and she was placed with us two months later. She's been with us ever since. That's also why I knew I had to come home when I heard she ran away. She used to do that to get away from her foster parents so they'd have an excuse to send her back."

"Did they?" You ask.

"Yeah. Six foster homes in two years."

"Jesus Christ."

"It's a lot. I know it is. That's why I didn't tell you bout them earlier. I didn't want to scare you off," he shrugs. "Plus, they're why I punched that photographer." He says like it's common knowledge, and you sit up. You remember Joel and Paul arguing about something when you walked into the room months ago, but you never asked about what. You also never asked him why he punched the pap because it didn't feel like your place. 

"What?"

"The guy showed up at Ellie's school. He was tryin' to get pictures of her when the only thing she's done wrong is have my last name. He was yellin' things at me and asking me about her, and I just… snapped," he explains, shaking his head. "It's not right. I shouldn't have done it, but they're my girls. If I can't protect them, then I've got nothin'." You watch tears glisten in his eyes, and you push onto your knees to cup his face.

"You're a good dad, Joel. Possibly one of the best ones out there, okay? And you're not a criminal for losing your temper with your fourteen-year-old," you say. "Ellie's a teenager, and she's been through a lot. You all have. But those beautiful, intelligent, funny, amazing girls love you with everything that they are. I can see that, and I only spent a few hours with them today. They are good people because you're a good person," You stare into his eyes, hoping that the words will imprint in his brain, and he believes it as much as you do. You think Joel Miller could use someone believing in how good he can be. You think he needs it. You think he deserves it. "You are a good person." You whisper, and he takes a deep breath. 

He rests his hands on your hips, and you move closer to him, resting your knees on either side of his hips and sitting in his lap. You kiss away the stray tears from his cheeks and feel him relax under your touch. You're sure that you'll need to tell him over and over again how good of a dad he is after so many years of just barely surviving, and you're okay with that. You'll tell him as many times as it takes him to believe it. 

He catches your lips before you can get far and kisses you firmly like he's trying to show you everything he wants to say instead of speaking. He tastes like salt and cigarettes as he fiddles with the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against your stomach. There's nothing sexual about it. He just wants to be close to you, and you want the same. He traces patterns into your lower back, his hands splaying across your sides, and you bury your face in his neck. It's quiet and soft and almost domestic the way you two are cuddled into each other. As if you've been together for years, and this is how you greet each other after being away for so long. You inhale his scent and try to make out the shapes he's pressing into your skin. 

"I wish I'd met you sooner." He says quietly, the words halfway lost in your hair. You kiss his jaw and squeeze him a little tighter.

"Me too," you mumble. "'M here now. I'm not going anywhere." And for once, instead of arguing or coming up with a reason to refuse to absorb what you're saying, he just nods.

"I know." 

[sideblogofasideblogforshoko]

Prompt: Sleep

Title: To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

Summary: Shoko doesn't sleep for a reason

Word Count:

Rating: T

Pair: Soft Gojo/Shoko (SaShoSu if you squint), mostly comfort with angsty tones because I can't write just fluffy to save my soul.

Shoko doesn't sleep.

Not really. She can nap. She can catch snatches of rest between breaks, between lunches and against stone walls during shady afternoons. It is mostly just her shutting her eyes, breathing slowly and pretending, but it helps. Keeps the lie up, allows her to answer anyone who asks that yes, she rested.

She did. Promise. Pinky swear.

The bruised colored circles under her eyes seem to scream otherwise, to the point she stopped trying to muffle them with make-up years ago, but hey a girl has to try right?

"You need to sleep at some point, Ieiri." Yaga gruffly recommends at the end of their meeting. She has spent that last forty-eight hours awake (not even a record by the way, hardly even a blip) elbow deep in curse guts. Then another five, writing up the a report about her findings for this stupid meeting. "People are going to assume I am running you ragged."

Shoko thinks about the six cursed bodies waiting down in the morgue and the three mangled corpses in the freezer.

"Aren't you?"

Yaga who has had years to learn how to deal with Shoko's casual, pointed words simply waves her away.

"Get some rest."

"Will do."

And she does.

Head bowed, cradled in her arms at her desk while waiting for the blood samples to finish. Solid thirty minutes at least.

Good job her, right?

+

"You look like shit."

"Fuck you too." Shoko spits back at Nanami who ignores her and pours her another drink. They are once again holed up in his apartment. It's nice, but kinda boring. Clean, but empty. He spends about as much time here as she spends at her own, which is next to never. Exception being when he manages to wrestle her out of the morgue and he doesn't have a case the next day. Then they go to his, order too much food and drink until Shoko has to help heal their livers in the morning.

Its a self inflicting exercise in flagellation but it is better than the alternative. Probably.

"You aren't sleeping again?" He notes, just as she is taking a sip because he is actually a bigger asshole than even herself. Most people get blinded by the pressed suits and air of dignified annoyance but yeah, deep down, Nanami Kento is still that emo-looking asshole who listens to My Chemical Romance and enjoys being a troll.

Shoko feels her throat tighten, a lie on the tip of her tongue that drowns in the booze and hacks out as a cough instead.

"Are you?"

Nanami shrugs, "A bit. More than you."

"You really talk to your elders like that?"

"Sorry, more than you, Senpai. Better?"

"No."

"Ah, well. I tried." He deadpans, reaching for another chip and chewing it as he watches her go through her head for an insult but fails and gives up by flopping backwards. Her body stretched out on the floor, hair fanned out like dark wave.

"I rest." She says, "I cat nap. Worst case, I do a bit foosh foosh and I'm good as new."

"That's not sleep."

"Your mom is not sleep." She mumbles out.

"He isn't in Japan, I take it?"

Nanami Kento has to lean to the side in order to miss getting hit by the sudden launch of a wadded up paper receipt.

Shoko does not reply nor does she get up to see if she has hit her target.

"If he finds out about all this, he won't be happy."

Shoko gives a sullen huff, indicating how much she cares about the opinion of the gangly white haired man with blue furby eyes who isn't currently in the country.

Nanami sighs, takes a sip of his own drink and waits for Shoko to rise back up from her drunken depths. Eventually goading her into playing super mario cart until the sun rises.

It isn't sleep, and both will suffer in the days after, but it's good in other ways. A different sort of recharge she can't get with caffeinated drinks and naps in her car.

+

There is a loud knock at her office door that brings Shoko back into reality. Hard. She doesn't remember when she left it, but she does know she jerks back into her body with enough force to jostle her third cup of coffee all down her shirt.

"Fuck." She hisses, grateful it was cold but also when did it get cold? Didn't she just make a new pot?

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." Megumi politely apologizes. He is one of the few students who actually can remember to say and mean it. She has no idea where he learned it considering every other student is half feral and his teacher is basically five raccoons in trench coat with an addiction to sugar.

"I was zoned out," She admits, putting the cup down and searching for something to clean up with. It takes some digging but eventually she finds some napkins in her purse. "What do you need?"

Megumi, for all his blank face, seems deeply uncomfortable and that is all it takes for Shoko to figure out what is happening.

"Ugh. Dont tell me he roped you in on this too."

"He won't stop texting."

"Megumi, you are suppose to be stronger than this." Shoko sighs, deeply disappointed.

"He sent a singing telegram to me yesterday and threatened to keep doing so until I sent proof." The teen explained, frustrated and more than a little embarrassed. She can tell by the way he gets louder than normal and the way the tips of his ears flush red. "That idiot has way too much time and access to money, Shoko. So let's just get this over with before he gets any other ideas."

Megumi hands her a folded up newspaper.

Shoko unravels it. "What is this for?"

"Hold it up next to you. He said he wants proof of life."

She does as he asks, but also flips him the middle finger. Making sure to frown hard as he takes the picture and sends it off.

"This was overkill."

"I agree." He replies and takes back the newspaper, then there is a series of urgent beeps from his phone. He reads the texts aloud. "He said you look like crap. Get some sleep or else. Something something about posting that picture from first year?"

"Tell that idiot I burned all evidence of that."

Megumi does and the answer is immediate.

"He says Myspace is forever." Megumi blinks, "What is myspace?"

"An ancient wasteland." Shoko tells him blithely and snatches the phone. Sending a series of complicated, odd and distinctly menacing emojis (it involves a lot of skulls, eggplants and fire) before handing it back. "There. That should keep him from using you to bother me. At least for now."

"Thanks."

The kid pockets his phone and nods, but before he leaves, he gives her one more deep concerning look.

"He should be back soon."

"Eh. Maybe. Might also get sidetracked by a dessert food truck too."

"Maybe." Megumi says, albeit doubtfully. Shoko chooses to ignore it and waves him off.

She still has work to do after all.

+

The thing about Shoko not sleeping is that it is on purpose as just as much as it isnt.

Sure, her work hours are probably enough to be a crime against OSHA or the Geneva Convention, and yes she often works alone because there is literally no one else with her gift but what else is she going to do? Go home? Ignore her dying comrades, the piling corpses and curses?

It is a shit job, but that is just how it goes. Could be worse. Probably. Shoko dances along the line of caring too much and not at all too often, to be a good voice of reason about these things.

That is the other side of it.

The part where she has seen too much. Touched too often, the worse bits of what remains. It is all on her to see what it all boils down to in the end and as much as she would like to pretend otherwise, it leaves a stain on her mind.

On her dreams.

It was easier when she could remember less; when she could numb with cigarettes, drink and love. Pressed between the lanky body of one, the compact slender of another. It was easier when the faces she preformed on did not have names in her heart.

It was easier when she was young, dumb and believed the future could be better if they just tried.

Now she is a little smarter, older and well aware of the utter shit show they are all forced to dance in. She knows her part, her limited turns and while she might still hate it all the way down to her bones she also knows the push to break it all down won't come without consequences.

She has already spent half a life burying his after all

So no. She never sleeps well on her own because every time she does, her mind fills with old memories that haunt her to tears. Or reminds her of the friend's she lost or worse, the ones she has yet to lose and really, if she has to pick. She would never sleep again if she could. Just to save herself the pain.

She is not a warrior, she does not suffer well when it comes down to it. She has a hungry heart and it starves like a wild thing, out of wanting. It wants love and it wants safety and it wants to go back in time and hold everything tight enough to bruise.

Shoko does not sleep for fear of the dreams.

-except when Satoru makes her.

"You haven't been sleeping again." He remarks, echoing Nanami but his tone all snark. It is past midnight and for once she is home. Driven there by a storm that closed down the school. She had heard the front door open, but hadn't bothered to move from the couch where she is nestled, reading some filthy smut novel that Mei Mei sent.

There was only one man with a key.

"Oh no. Who let the secret out?" Shoko mocks back with too slow of a response. She is just getting to the good part where the overly handsome, very rich CEO fucks his newly hired help over a leather couch. "Was it Ijichi? Sucha gossip."

Satoru snorts, kicks off his shows and practically bounces from one end of the room to the other, diving towards the couch and land haphazardly in her lap. Shoko, already mentally prepared for this, merely jostles unhappily before going back to her book. Resting the edge of it atop of Satoru's head. He had rested it first on her chest so this was fair.

"As if. That man will take your secrets to the grave. His crush is out of control. I saw him buying you a novelty travel mug today. Says best boss in the world."

"Aw, don't tease him. It's just a crush."

"Gonna tease him harder." Satoru promises, snuggling in. Stupid long limbs snaking in and around her body until Shoko cannot sigh without Satoru moving too. She gives up and closes the book. Letting it fall from her fingers to the floor so she is free to let them pet his white strands back. He closes his eyes and hums.

"Take a nap with me."

"Not tired." She lies.

"Liar."

Shoko cant help but smile at him.

"Yeah. Maybe. Can you blame me?"

Satoru, whose scars mirror her own simply holds her tighter.

"I will keep your nightmares at bay if you do the same for mine." He offers, and it is nothing more than a child's offer to hold hands in the dark, neither really has the power to fight off dreams but it relaxes Shoko more than anything else in the world. She gathers a throw blanket over them and places a kiss on his forehead.

"Deal."

Shoko falls asleep with a soft smile.

[vivaldisspring]

Due to popular demand (5 people asked me), I shall tell the story of how I married my TC

LONG READ AHEAD – THIS IS 7 PAGES ON MY WORD DOC

Hi TCC! I’m Anissa, I’m 27 years old, but I’ve had dumb tcs since I was 11 because of whatever the hell is deeply wrong with me. Before I start, I want to point out how very lucky I was to be surrounded by sensible, responsible, righteous adults as I grew up, so that I was never exposed to any danger – and I’m including adults in the tcc, as I was around here when I was a minor as well. I hope, if you are a minor, you understand that my story is a college story, everything happened between adults (and it started when I was 21), and absolutely nothing that I will say here applies to a high school setting. To be completely honest, it is not exactly any advice for a college setting either, as you will see that I have sorely regretted a lot of my actions and they have led to people getting hurt (mostly me). Even when it comes to professor-student relationships, I would still advise you to not act on your crush, or at least wait until you’ve graduated college. Had I done that, I would’ve spared myself a lot of headache. Also, I do believe as you get older, large age gaps get easier to deal with.

PART 1: JAMES (my crush)

I was 18 when I started college as a History major. It was 2015, and due to issues with my family that I’m not going to go into, I was severely depressed. I soon dropped out of college, spent some time away, and returned in 2017 (20 years old) as a Foreign Languages major this time. So, at 20 years old, I was still a freshman, which to me was super embarrassing, but oh well. Mental health first.

That’s when I met James (not his real name). He was a professor at my university, mainly teaching English. (I do not live in an English-speaking country, so English here doesn’t mean literature in English, but rather the actual language – reading, writing and listening skills in English). James was in his mid-thirties back then, I think, had gotten his PhD and a professor job at my university not too long before. The way it happened is, he published on the department’s Facebook page a notice that he needed an assistant to one of the English classes he taught. His only requirement was, the student needed to have finished the course with the highest grade. That was my case, as I had taken that course the previous semester (with a different professor). In my university, when you’re an assistant to a professor in any class, you get credits. I wanted credits, so I emailed him expressing my interest. He said great, come by my office next week at this time, and we can talk about it.

I went to his office as we had agreed, and that’s when I first met him in person. We talked for a bit, I thought he was very nice, and we agreed I would be his assistant in that specific English class. As his assistant, I was present in all of his classes, I helped take attendance, set up the projector, organize the desks/chairs, prepare the assignments, hand them out, grade them if necessary, answer any questions the students might have, etc. It was a Reading Comprehension class, so I also selected texts in English that I thought would be a good fit for him to assign to the students. This meant that we spent a lot of time together and we had a lot of contact outside of class, discussing plans for the course and solving problems that showed up. We would meet earlier than the time the class started, and after the class ended we stayed together for a while too. I didn’t have a crush on him immediately – it developed throughout the semester, because I guess of our growing proximity.

Now, let me tell you. When the crush did develop. I was OBSESSED. It was INSANE. I’d had crushes on teachers before, in middle school and in high school, but NOTHING LIKE THIS. Those crushes paled in comparison; they were reduced to jokes. My crush on James CONSUMED me, mind, body and soul. I don’t think I can stress this enough. I was a MESS – it was so deep, so strong, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I thought about him every single minute of every single day. I planned every single one of my actions around him. I dressed for him, I got into credit card debt from buying expensive/pretty clothes that might appeal to him, I started a diet so I could lose weight for him (I was the thinnest and unhealthiest I’d ever been during that time), I started doing exercise (I would go jogging for 2 hours straight) also to lose weight, I wore short skirts, I showed cleavage, I put on more makeup than ever in my life. I wrote poems and songs for him, I overanalyzed our interactions and his very micro expressions, every word that he said. Every praise from him was like the highest high from the most powerful drug – the tiniest word of perceived disapproval was enough to render me suicidal. I AM NOT EXAGGERATING. I hesitate to call it a crush. It was an ILLNESS. I stalked this man, I stalked him online (I found out everything I could about him and his friends and family), I stalked him physically (I would wait outside his office, at a reasonable distance, for him to come out - sometimes I would go up to him and talk to him, sometimes I would just walk by him and wave, pretending it was a coincidence we were in the same area, sometimes I would just watch him walk up to his car and drive away. I wrote down his license plate and looked for his car everywhere I went. I found out what neighborhood he lived in, and I used to go there in hopes that I could find out his exact building by checking parking spots for his car, and maybe I could also run into him there?). I found out he had a girlfriend and stalked her too, and I compared myself to her to the point of insanity. I shed literal blood, sweat and tears, I dedicated months of my life to this sick obsession, and this sick obsession ONLY. This was all I had. Guys, I did things I can’t even speak of here, because they were too wrong, too petty, quite frankly too embarrassing to admit even to strangers on Tumblr. That’s how bad it was.

I couldn’t regret it more. I think, being severely depressed, I considered this crush my lifeline, and I poured my soul into it like it could save me from darkness. But it was darkness, it was awful. And the worst thing? James didn’t deserve to have to deal with it. He is actually a good guy. I’m pretty sure he noticed how I felt, but he never once took advantage of it. He kept his distance, kept everything professional and ethical, never made advances, never did anything inappropriate, and reacted to my inappropriate behavior very well. He knew I was depressed, he tried getting me into therapy, but there was only so much he could do.

Looking back, I feel my crush on James as something of a curse. I was cursed with it – and it still lingers to this day, I still feel the pain from having been burned alive by these feelings even though I’ve put out all the flames by now. I’m fine, I’m better, 6 years later I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been… but I still shake at the sight of James. I still feel like I can’t quite breathe, even though I’m happily married now and most of the time it’s like James never existed. If I run into him, I can’t say it’s not a blow.

I hope one day I can get over him completely. I wanted to tell you guys the James story because I don’t want this to be simply a “omg I got married to my tc, if I did it you can do it too!!” kind of post. I don’t want to encourage anyone to go after their tcs like I went after James because it DOES NOT END WELL and I know better than anyone how unhealthy a teacher attachment can be. I still love to hear all about your tcs and your cute interactions with them and I so relate to how you guys feel, the good parts and the bad parts, I’m absolutely not judging anyone and I love this community so much. I even write tc/age gap stories, I’m always looking for books, movies, fanfics, etc. I love the trope, I love it. But I can’t lie to you – this particular experience in 2017 screwed me over hard.

Okay. I hope that was enough of a cautionary tale. Let’s move on.

PART 2: MARK (my husband)

So I was James’s assistant in that class, and then in some others. Whenever possible I would also sign up to be his student in courses he taught. This lasted for all of 2017 (the height of it) and 2018 (got slowly better, he was no longer the center of my universe, but I still loved him).

And in the meantime, I met Mark (also not his real name), another one of my professors. While James was in his mid thirties, Mark was in his late forties (which was older than my preferred age gap). The Foreign Languages major at my university focuses mostly on English, Spanish, and French – while James taught English Comprehension, Mark taught French History (actually the exact course title is more specific, so I’m not going to name it, but it’s basically French History).

Now, remember how I said my first choice of major at the university was History? (I was persuaded to change it, I regret it, let’s not talk about it.) At that point, I was still very much a History nerd, and French History was my jam. You can still go back to my posts about Robespierre (love of my life) from 2013/2014 here on the archive to this very Tumblr account. So needless to say, I knew an awful lot about the French Revolution going into Mark’s course.

Fun fact: the first time I enrolled in one of Mark’s classes, I thought absolutely nothing of him, but I did know one thing – all of the department offices were shared by two professors, and James’s office was shared by Mark. So on the very first day of class with Mark, he (Mark) was like “guys, I forgot some papers I wanted to hand out to you, they’re in my office – would someone be so kind as to hop in there and get them for us?”. (Office was located very close to the classroom) I was a shy student who almost never spoke in class or volunteered for anything, but when I tell you I JUMPED OUT OF MY CHAIR and practically yelled over another student was already offering, I was like “I’LL GO, I’LL GO, DON’T WORRY PROFESSOR, LEAVE IT TO ME”. I knew James would be there because his class had ended just before Mark’s started. Mark thanked me and so off I went, happily. James was indeed there, working on his desk. I knocked on the door, “Hi professor, may I come in? It’s just that Mark asked me to pick up these papers right here, don’t mind me, thank you so much, hope you’re doing well, see you next class?”. It was such a short interaction with James, but it MADE MY FUCKING DAY.

One week later I dropped out of Mark’s course because arriving on time for his class was getting in the way of me spending more time with James after his class.

Yeah. The irony.

I only saw Mark again on the next semester, when I enrolled in his class once more and there was nothing keeping me from finishing the course. We got closer as time went on precisely because none of the other students even really knew who Robespierre was, and I not only knew his name, but all of the names of the main French revolutionaries and the specific radical/moderate groups they were part of, and exactly their role in the start of the French Revolution leading up to their death. I was not new to being the teacher’s pet – most of my professors loved me at that time, so I ended up being an assistant to many professors apart from James, and Mark was only another one of them. I never had a crush on Mark. When I tell you he meant nothing to me, even though we were so close and we got along so well and had so many interesting conversations about the French Revolution – still my obsession with James was deep and I didn’t have eyes for anyone else.

So how did it happen, you ask me?

One day, Mark and I were having such a good conversation, it ended up lasting longer than we anticipated. We were talking, I was walking to the bus stop, he was walking home because he lived so close to the university and he didn’t have a car. He actually rode a bicycle to the university, but that day he just dragged his bicycle with him by his side so we could keep talking. We decided to stop at a food place and grab something to eat. And we kept talking. Conversation just flowed really naturally with us, and it was kind of a relief to not have to overanalyze everything I say and everything he says. I could just talk about History, I could just fangirl over Robespierre (Mark totally gets it, he thinks Robespierre is awesome too), I could just be myself. I didn’t have many friends at the university, no one I could really talk to and just have a good time with, so Mark was a godsend. We ordered food, kept talking, argued over the bill, then resumed heading towards our destinations. I had long passed my usual bus stop, but there were many stops I could go to, so I just decided I’d take the bus on the one closest to Mark’s place.

At this point, there was definitely a vibe already, we were both going out of our way to keep spending time together. I’m not sure what inspired my actions here. Maybe I wanted to forget about James for a while. Maybe I wanted a chance to make James jealous somehow. Maybe I just wanted someone to be into me, since James clearly never would. So I made up an excuse to go up to his apartment. We spent some more time together in his balcony, overlooking the city, and then out of the blue he’s like:

“You know, James broke up with his girlfriend.”

I was SHOCKED. I was SHAKEN TO MY CORE. I swear to God, I wanted to scream, I wanted to jump, I wanted to dance. I was SO HAPPY. But I couldn’t do any of that now, could I? So much was going through my head. How did Mark know about my feelings for James anyway? (Why else would he say that??) Was I so very obvious? Had James mentioned anything to him? What about the vibe between Mark and me? WHAT WAS EVEN GOING ON?!

I tried my best to not let out my hysteria over the news that James and his girlfriend had broken up. I tried to say as nonchalantly as I could:

“Oh, really? What a shame. Why did they break up?”

“She had an abortion, it seems, that he didn’t agree with.”

Guys, I can’t even describe the turmoil inside me. I’ll be honest, it affected me so much I don’t even remember what I said next, or what he said, or the rest of our conversation. The next thing I remember, Mark and I were making out on his couch and then the rest is history.

Okay so. Mark knew I liked James, not him. I knew Mark himself had just gotten out of a difficult relationship – he had lived in France for a while and had been in love with a French woman. When he returned to our country (he had to, because of his job at the university), she came with him, they had plans to get married and have children and everything. But she wasn’t able to adapt to the new culture and to being away from her family, so she broke up with him and went back to France. There, she got back together with her ex, and soon she was pregnant by him. Mark was still grieving that, he was still very much in love with her. So basically, I wasn’t really into Mark, Mark wasn’t really into me – we were both aware of that – and we started something of an ~~affair~~ (sex, it was just sex, friends with benefits at most) having agreed that it would be nothing more, considering our feelings for other people.

And like that, it stayed, for many months. And then, I don’t know. I guess when we were together, it was hard to keep it just sex, because we got along so well. We had so many of the same interests (e.g., French Revolution), and other things we introduced to each other – he got me into so much 80s/90s music, I got him into horror movies. We also found out we both loved Nietzsche, so we started reading Nietzsche together, and it was SO productive. He helped me understand so much of what Nietzsche wrote, that now I consider my readings of Nietzsche when I was 16/17 to have been useless, I didn’t GET IT AT ALL. And (he says) my thoughts on what we were reading helped him deepen his understanding as well. I started spending a lot of time at his apartment, and we just had so much fun! Also the sex was amazing

Eventually, we decided to give it a try. We just made sense for us to date, right? If we were attracted to each other and we were the best of friends, literally what was it about James and French Lady that was so important to keep Mark and I from moving on with our lives? Especially when French Lady was already married to another guy, and James was just not interested in me no matter how hard I tried to be something he might want. It made sense to at least try. So try we did, and you know what? Best decision I ever made.

PART 3: JAMES/MARK (how it ended)

James and I were supposed to work together on a project. It wasn’t a class this time, just a separate academic research project. It was the perfect chance for me, because it would give me even more time to spend with him. But honestly. What was the point? James didn’t want anything with me. This was crystal clear. And I was trying to move on with someone else. The topic of the research wasn’t even something I liked to study (it was no French Revolution!), it was literally just an excuse to spend time with James. And that didn’t seem fair, considering I was dating Mark now. So I decided to drop out of the research project.

But I’m not going to lie to you guys. I still loved James very much, and it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. In fact, it was so hard that I kept putting it off, I kept delaying it, to the point I kind of ghosted James for a little while. I was so paralyzed by the prospect of giving up on him completely. And you don’t ghost someone on a research project, that’s shitty academic behavior. (Mark didn’t know about any of this, by the way. He still doesn’t to this day. I had stopped talking to him about James, because well, awkward, right?)

So one day, I decided it was time. I can’t ghost him any longer. I wrote a James a LONG (!) email, explaining why I had ghosted him (I blamed it on my depression), apologizing profusely for dropping out of the project, complimenting him intensely, and then, finally, asking him if we could maybe meet for coffee one of these days, I would like to give him a hug. Remember, this was a LONG email, and it ended with a question (can we meet in person?). Two days later, I get an answer. I don’t remember it word for word (it hurt me so deeply, I deleted the whole email exchange 5 minutes after reading it), but it was something in the lines of:

“Hi, Anissa. Thanks for explaining. Don’t worry about it, I completely understand. I hope you can get the help you need.

Best regards,

James”

I don’t think I need to explain how painful it was to receive an answer like that, after I had opened up so much to him in long paragraphs, and expressed a desire to see him. And as I got that answer, I started to ask myself why the hell I even wrote such a long email, why the hell I even asked to see him (said I wanted to HUG HIM), when I was dating someone else. In hindsight, that was an asshole move on my part. I guess James thought so too.

I don’t know if James knew about my relationship with Mark. When it comes to James and Mark, the truth is they never got along. I only found out as Mark and I became more intimate and he felt more comfortable confessing that he hates James, always has, and James hates him right back. They both avoided being at the office together. Mark thinks James is stupid, James thinks Mark is arrogant. And since I was Mark’s student, we kept our relationship a secret all along, and I’m sure Mark never told James anything. But who knows? Maybe he found out another way, maybe he guessed it. Maybe he doesn’t know at all, he just answered so coldly because he was angry at me for ghosting him on his project.

Guys. Ever since that email… I never talked to James again. We saw each other from a distance plenty of times at the university, and hell, I even took one of his classes again (it was mandatory, there was no way around it). It was 2020, during the pandemic, so it was all on Zoom, and I never had to say a word to him or show my face on the call. I took the online quizzes, and at the end of the semester I submitted a paper I had written for the final assignment. I received feedback from him saying the paper was excellent. It gave me a little bit of joy, as his praise was does… but also, a little bit of disgust. I know everything that went wrong between me and him was my fault. But I’m only human, and I can’t help it, I resent that email. I resent it a lot. I stopped talking to James partly out of respect for my new boyfriend, partly out of hatred for James and his stupid fucking email that broke my heart into a million pieces.

Flash forward to 2021. Mark and I were better than ever. One day, we’re like, you know what, if we get married we can probably save up on health insurance (I could be included in his health insurance, as his wife, and I was at that point without any health insurance at all). So I told my mom, “by the way mom, Mark and I are getting married for health insurance reasons”. My mom was over the moon and decided to plan the whole wedding. At first we wanted something small, but my mom went crazy and did something bigger than we planned (still small, because pandemic, but bigger than we wanted – there was an actual reception with my closest family and friends, back in my hometown). It was cute. Though I hate the pictures because I look so fat in my wedding dress. Being with Mark, I gained weight again, because he makes me feel loved me whether I’m thin or fat, and quite frankly fat is healthier for me. I still carry the harmful fatphobic feeling of inferiority from back when I was losing weight for James though.

2021 is when I should have graduated, but the truth is that when I had a crush on James, I fucked up a lot of my class schedule (remember how I dropped out of Mark’s class just to be able to spend time with James?) to make it work in favor of my obsession with him. And then the pandemic happened, which delayed my courses even more (we lost a whole semester there). So unfortunately, I only got to graduate last year, 2023, at the old age of 26 (awful, terrible, I hate it, I feel like shit for it, especially because it was my fault, my depression that kept me from college in 2015/2016, my sick obsessive crush that ruined my life in 2017/2018, and it was 2019 when I was able to start healing).

I’ve been married to Mark for 3 years now and it’s been THE BEST YEARS OF MY LIFE. I’ve never been healthier, physically and mentally, and I love him so much, and we have 2 cats, and I love my cats, and our little family and our little home.

Sometimes I feel guilty that I don’t feel (and never have felt) for Mark what I felt for James. But I think this is a good thing in the end. I think it’s the reason why my relationship with Mark is so good and so healthy. Because what I felt for James was an illness, not love. And I love Mark for who he is as a human being, NOT as a teacher. James was my teacher crush through and through, it was always about his position, his authority, his praise, his reproach, his distance, his inaccessibility – never about his friendship. Because as much as I might want to fool myself sometimes, we never were friends, we were always teacher and teaching assistant.

I’m gonna end it on this note: last month (December 2023), I presented my final paper (a research paper every student has to present in order to get their diploma by my university). For the final paper, most of the professors in the department are present to watch you speak and present your research findings. So that was the last time I saw James – he was there to watch this semester’s graduating class present their papers. He watched me present mine. When I got up on stage, he was sitting directly in front of me, facing me in a way that made it almost hard for us not to stare at each other. I was deeply affected by his presence. I don’t even remember how my presentation went, I was so conscious of James being right there in front of me. When I finished, I was congratulated and complimented and praised by almost every professor in the department, they all had loved my research. All except one. James didn’t say a word to me. I didn’t say a word to him either. At a certain point we were pulled into the same circle of conversation, but we both kept quiet, let other people speak, looked away when our eyes met, and made sure to walk away in opposite directions as soon as possible. I have no idea why he’s being like this, whether he hates me for ghosting, whether he hates me for being with Mark, whether he just doesn’t care about me at all and never has. I just don’t know. I’ve been trying my hardest not to care too.

Anyway. This was a ride. If you made it this far, I LOVE YOU. I may need to go cry now.

[that-basic-simp]

To My Love

JQ X Fem!Reader CW: Suggestive towards the end WC: 1.2k+ A/N: Hope y'all like fluff. And excuse my terrible song writing skills.

"How do people write this? It sounds so cheesy and cliche," I looked down at her mother, who was chuckling.

"That's how things were back then. People would swoon one another with love letters and romantic acts. Date nights with roses and chocolate at the end. And to sweeten the deal, a nice night alone together."

I let out a sigh, running my hand through my mohawk, "I-I just don't want to fuck it up."

"Odessa, how long have you and Y/N been together?"

"About five years now."

"And have ya fucked up?"

"Multiple times. More than I can count," I mumbled.

"And does Y/N still love you?"

"Yes."

"Look at your hand, Odessa."

Lifting my left hand up, there sat a silver band on my ring finger.

"You two came together because you had one common thing: your love for one another. Listen, Odessa, Y/N absolutely adores ya and you know that more than anyone. And you adore 'er. Whatever ya do for her to celebrate your love, she'll love it and she'll love you. No matter what."

I smiled, nodding my head, "Thank you, Mrs. L/N."

Walking out of her old house, the house I held a lot of memories whenever we were getting to know one another. I lingered for a bit, especially by her room. I stood at the door frame, peering in to find the lone mattress on the ground. A smile ran across my face, remembering the night of the sand storm where we held one another close. Where I knew I had feelings for her. Even if she was the first one to confess, I had fallen for her that moment right there. When we were making our weapons together. I knew she was the one.

"Everything alright, Odessa?" her mother asked.

"Everything is," I said and walked out of the house, thanking her once more.

Heading back to Junkertown, I entered through the gate and walked back towards a shed only I knew about. It was well hidden and I made sure no one followed me. Reaching it, I stepped inside and closed the door, locking it. It was small, but big enough to hold me and a few things that were necessary. Kneeling onto the ground, I pulled something out from underneath the desk. It was old and dusty, which I had to rub the dust off before grabbing it. Standing up, I placed it on the desk and ran my hand along it, letting out a sigh.

"Dad," I whispered to myself. "Please help me on this one. I-It's been a while since I was able to do this. But it is necessary to ask for your help, as you were the one to teach me."

Moving my hands to where the clasps were, I flicked them open and opened up the top of the case, revealing an old acoustic guitar. I've always played electric of bass guitars, but not acoustic. The last time I played it was the night before he and my siblings died. I had never touched it after all this time, but I felt the need to open it up. The pads of my fingers lightly ran over the strings, a dull sound coming from them. Closing my eyes, a single tear slid down my face as I closed the case, locking it tightly.

Grabbing the handle, I removed it from the desk and walked out of the shed, heading back towards the office building where I would spend most of my time making sure it was up to par from when I last played it. I had to restring and tune it, but actually having it in my hands made them tremble. The memories came back and hit me like a train, making me want to put it away. But, I had to. I had to do this. Not only for myself, but for Y/N.

Blinking my eyes open, I found the spot where Odessa slept to be empty. Slowly rising, I found a little note on my bedside table along with a vase of actual roses. I smiled, my heart beating fast as I reached over and opened the note.

"Y/N,

Sorry I wasn't able to be here when you woke up. Something came up. I should be finished by the time you're awake. Hope to see you soon.

With love, Odessa."

I got up, quickly got changed, grabbed what I needed and headed towards the throne room. Reaching the building, I opened up the door and stepped inside, hearing something coming from the throne room. Closing the door, I headed up the stairs and knocked on the door.

"Odessa?"

"Come in, Y/N."

I opened the door and found a sight to behold. There were flower petals on the ground, the throne room was actually clean for once, candles everywhere, the curtains pulled together, and she was sitting on the couch that was against the right hand wall. I smiled, closing the door and locking it. Making my way over, I sat down next to her.

"Did you do all of this by yourself?"

"I did," she smiled.

"Dez, ya know ya don't have to do anythin' for me."

"I want to give you everythin'," she whispered, reaching up to cup my jaw. "You deserve everythin'."

We both smiled and she leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, too, Dez."

"And to show ya," she pulled away and reached behind her, grabbing an acoustic guitar by the neck of the instrument. Setting it on her lap, she let out a sigh, some tears forming in her eyes.

"Dez, ya alright?"

"I haven't played an acoustic since my father and siblings passed."

"I-I'm sorry to hear. B-But why are ya?"

"Because of this," she said, tuning it before strumming it quietly. "Just sit back and relax. And I apologize for my terrible singin' voice. I usually sing along to my metal songs."

"It's alright, Dez."

She cleared her throat and started to play the instrument, a soft and calming tune coming from it.

"To my love, with all my heart You've scared the demons away Chased every doubt from my head Held my heart in your hands tightly To where you fear dropping it

To my love, with all my soul You've shown me what love is In the harshest of places Especially a place like this But I know you You would have done it either way

To my love, with everything that is You are the one to make me feel Love in all the right and wrong places But it is a gift you bring to me As you are the gift itself

To my love, I love you."

Tears slid down my face as she finished the little song, her eyes finding mine. A smile formed on her lips as she put the guitar down, pulling me into her lap. I wrapped my arms and legs around her, crying in her shoulder as she ran her hand up and down my back.

"Shh, shh, there there, I got ya, love," she whispered in my ear.

"I love you, Odessa."

"I love you, too, Y/N. Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day."

Pulling away, I grabbed what I had made her for today. Handing it to her, she smiled widely.

"Ya made this for me?"

"Of course I did."

She leaned towards me and pressed a kiss to my lips.

"Thank you, love," she said after she pulled away. "But ya know what would make today even better?"

"What?" I asked, smirking, knowing exactly where she was going with this.

And we did just that.

[ejzah]

Collateral Damage, Part 9

***

Kensi spent the next two weeks recuperating. Realistically, she didn’t need quite that long, but had encouraged her to take the time, and for once, she listened.

Instead of counting down every second until she could get back in the field, Kensi found herself enjoying the time off for a change. The first few days were uncomfortable and even painful, but after that, she went for long walks and spent the afternoon with Rosa when she got home from school.

Thanks to Callen and Sam, Deeks also made it home earlier than usual most evenings, which meant they all had time together as a family. It was nice. Better than nice. For the first time in years, Kensi felt settled in a way that didn’t leave her looking for more; she no longer craved the constant danger and action.

The night before she was supposed to return from medical leave, she and Deeks were cleaning up in the kitchen after dinner.

“Hey, why don’t you go relax, I got the rest of this,” Deeks suggested, wiping down the counters.

“Baby, I love how much you want to take care of me, but I’m not going to be immobile for at least a few more months,” she reminded him gently.

Deeks smiled self-deprecatingly. Setting the rag to the side, he encircled her waist with his arms tugging her into him. “I know. You’re just doing all the work with growing the Pastry Babies, so it only seems fair that I make up for it somewhere else.”

“You do,” Kensi assured him. “In so many ways. You don’t have to do it all.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” He kissed her cheek, his eyes filled with a warmth that felt like home. “So, you ready to be back at work tomorrow?”

“Actually, no.” Deeks eyebrows raised at her admission. She shrugged. “You know how we talked about me maybe taking a few more weeks off?”

He nodded. She inhaled shallowly through her nose, fiddling with his shirt collar. “I think I might want even longer. Or to put fieldwork on hold for a while,” she said.

Deeks had remained silent, the only change in his expression a slight widening of his eyes.

“So, what do you think about that?”

“Are you sure it’s what you really want?”

“Absolutely,” she said adamantly. “Getting abducted and not knowing if I would ever see you or Rosa again, if the twins—” her throat tightened and she shrugged. “It put a lot of things in perspective for me. Nothing matters more than this.” She took his hand and laid it over her stomach, just ever so slightly bigger, and pressed her other hand to his chest.

His eyes filled with tears and he kissed her, his arms firm yet gentle around her.

****

“I’ll see you in a little bit,” Kensi told Deeks, squeezing his hand as they parted ways in the bullpen. It felt odd to be back, almost wrong in a way even though she hadn’t been gone that long.

Now she just had to meet with Kilbride. He hadn’t been pleased when he found out they failed to report her kidnapping until after she was recovered. Fortunately, Sam and Callen had accepted the brunt of his ire, and Deeks had offered to quit on the spot if Kilbride had an issue with his conduct. Kensi had smiled at Deeks’ retelling of that moment.

She walked up Kilbride’s office, and knocked on the door. He opened the door himself, his lips pursing when he saw her.

“Hm. I thought I’d be receiving a visit from you soon,” he grumbled. He gestured for her to come in and shut the door again.

“It’s good to see you too, Admiral,” she said, and he smiled wryly, perching on the edge of his desk. “It’s good to see you back. I hope you’re well.”

“On the mend,” Kensi allowed. She felt that absurd urge to ramble that still overcame her occasionally in times of stress. Instead, she steadied herself. “Sir, I know my leave is supposed to end as of today, but I’d like to extend it.”

Kilbride’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Were your injuries more extensive than you originally thought? Your pregnancy—”

“No, we’re all very healthy,” Kensi spoke up quickly, resting her hand on her lower abdomen out of habit. “I’d like to keep it that way.” She looked just past him, remembering the moments when she didn’t know for sure that the twins weren’t hurt, stumbling through the woods, fighting off a man intent on capturing her by any means. She shuddered and breathed in deeply, squaring her chin. “I have two little lives I need to protect. Being kidnapped made me realize how quickly they could be taken from me.”

“Agent Blye, every day and case is not going to end with an abduction,” Kilbride said, his voice turning a little stern.

“Maybe not, but there are always guns, and bombs, and every other calamity we regularly face every day. I’d convinced myself that I could handle all of that until I was farther along in my pregnancy, but I was wrong. I never want to feel like that again with my babies.”

“Well, that is certainly hard to argue with,” he commented. “Are you certain this isn’t just the result of your fear talking? You might change your mind later.”

“I have a family to think of and I don’t want to put this job before them anymore,” Kensi explained simply.

“So is this your official resignation then?”

“No. At least not for now. I’ve requested an extension to my leave. I might return to fieldwork, or I might pursue another career.”

Kilbride nodded, then to her surprise, extended a hand. His grip was firm, if brief as he shook her hand. “This agency will certainly feel your absence. I wish you luck in whatever you choose.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kensi said, offering a final nod before she turned for the door. As she walked back down the stairs, she felt a heaviness lift from her shoulders with every step. She stopped on the first landing, staring down into the bullpen. Deeks sat his desk, head bent over his laptop.

There was her past and her future in one place.

“C’mon, let’s go see dad,” she murmured, pressing lightly over her bump.

[woeswrites]

Fidus Achates

Capulus

To his team, Spencer has only ever been treated as an encyclopedia. Only when they're at a loss do they search through his pages. He is used and used, but is never once appreciated. Maybe that is what motivated him to seek a confidant. Someone who can sympathize with him and see him for what he truly is; a person and not just a machine spitting out facts (though he can do that too).

Or... Spencer Reid seeks out a therapist and realizes he has some boundary issues, to say the least

Pairing: yan!Spencer Reid x male!OC

Word count: 1,031

Notes: Don't expect quick updates to this. I'm a very inconsistent writer. Editing constantly

"Hello, this is the office of Dr. Ward, correct?"

A well-kept and most likely middle aged receptionist took a break from her string of typing to look up. The nameplate displayed front and center on her marbled counter read “Karla Thompson, Front Desk Representative”.

"You’re in the right place, name please."

She held a tight (yet appropriately polite) smile on her face. She didn’t appear displeased but it was evident she had a lot on her hands.

"Spencer."

The woman held eye contact expectantly.

"Oh right- uh, Spencer Reid". She punched in something before responding.

"It seems your new here. You'll need to fill out these-" Just before Karla could finish grabbing a stack of forms to drop on him, Spencer reached into his leather satchel.

“-Actually…” Reid slipped a standard folder labeled ‘WARD’ out of his bag and onto the countertop. "I filled them all out already.” The woman was a bit surprised but reached over nonetheless. “I can get pretty busy so I figured I would do all this desk work prior to coming in. It has been shown to save up to…" His words began to fade as he realized he was going off again. "Sorry." Karla nodded and opened up the manila casing. She seemingly glanced through the materials.

"You're lucky, our doctors have been running ahead of schedule today. Doesn't happen very often." She shook her head at her comment. "Listen, you'll need to head down to the last door on your left." The long acrylic pasted to her index finger directed Spencer toward the nearest hallway. "The doctor should be waiting for you in there." Spencer gave a curt nod as a formality.

Before he had even left the desk Karla was typing away again. The clacking was audible all the way from the nearly empty waiting room to the mahogany door inscribed with the name 'Malakai Ward'. Spencer lifted his hand up in a loose fist before rapping his knuckles against the wood. A muffled voice granted him entrance.

Spencer hadn't planned for the sudden wave of dark roast that hit his nostrils. It wasn't particularly on brand for a doctor's office, which he usually associated with more of a soap-like aroma, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't help soothe his nerves a little. Spencer was latching on to any bit of familiarity her could around here.

"Oh hello! Dr. Reid is it?"

"Huh?" Too entranced in his senses Spencer completely missed the figure standing in front of him. A tall caucasian male, approximately 27 years in age and 6 feet 3 inches in height.

‘Definitely young for someone in his profession, so there’s a high probability for an above average IQ.’

"Oh yes. Though, I would prefer if you just called me Spencer." Being addressed by that title in this situation felt a little odd.

"Alright, Spencer it is. It is very nice to meet you."

"Uh, yes, it is nice to meet you too Doctor." He was not the type to physically greet people like this, but he was unsure of exactly how he should be approaching this situation.

As a profiler, it’s not uncommon for Spencer to take in the appearance of those around him. In fact, it would be far more strange if he ignored the attributes of someone before him.

As such, all of the man's features were quickly being jotted down and stored in his mental files. Dr. Ward wore a brown curled haircut, a pair of metal-framed reading glasses, and some light stubble. His general attributes were pretty common, but a closer look reveals an amalgamation of attractive features.

Dr. Ward smiled and reciprocated the gesture. He definitely seemed more comfortable than Spencer during the interaction. The later retracted his hand in a calculated way (trying not to focus too much on the skin to skin contact) and stood awkwardly. "I believe I mentioned on the phone the reason for my reaching out to you."

"Yes, I believe you did. It's not every day that an FBI member contacts me after all." A polite laugh was exchanged as Dr. Ward motioned for the two of them to take a seat on his office chairs. "I remember finding it strange that you sought an outside professional instead of contacting a therapist whom you work alongside." Spencer took a seat on the surprisingly comfortable chair across from the doctor.

"Well, that was my intention really. I wanted to be able to speak to someone who wasn't affiliated with my... work situation."

"So, to my understanding, you have come to me in order to find someone who will listen-" Dr. Ward glanced down briefly to his notes before continuing “As you believe many of the people in your life are not willing to. Did I get that right?" Hearing those words out loud stung a little.

"It appears so..." Spencer adjusted his sweater vest at the collar.

"Don't worry, it is a relatively common occurrence in this field." The doctor offered a smile. "And I am more than happy to help you with that Spencer. You will always have my undivided attention while you are here."

Spencer's eyes widened slightly from the sincerity of the response but he quickly returned to his normal composure. This whole situation was more than embarrassing for the young wiz kid so it was comforting to know that someone wasn’t judging him for making this move. The opposite actually.

“Before we begin, have you ever had a therapist before me?” Spencer shook his head no. “That’s alright. I’m just going to briefly ask you some standard questions to help me further understand how I can best assist you throughout this process. Is that okay with you?” Spencer looked around the room for a second, gathering small bits and pieces as he did.

'Dog person'

'Hockey fan'

'Big on literature'

All of this information helped Spencer gather a better sense of who this person was behind his doctorate. It helped soothe his nerves a little knowing that, he too, was a normal person with hobbies, likes, and dislikes.

Spencer nodded, allowing the doctor to proceed.

"Alright, well lets get started then, shall we?"

[crooked-haven]

Not all stories have happy endings | Jeon Jungkook Oneshot

➭ Paring: Jeon Jungkook x (F) Reader

➭ Genre: Angst (16+)

➭ Warnings/Tags: Sad Au, Heartbreak, Sad Ending, Ceo Boyfriend Jungkook, Age Gap, Yelling, Cursing, Lying, mentions of pregnancy, small violence (Jungkook breaks glass)

➭ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are purely coincidental. Also this is my story so please don’t steal!

➭ By: Serendipity_haven (Taexxgukkie & Crooked-haven)

Word count: 1k

-Author's Pov-

You woke up next to no one. Again. It was recently like that, you of course had your suspicions on whether or not your boyfriend of 4 years was being loyal to you. He was a CEO at Jeon company and he met with quite a lot of people on a regular basis, even his secretary was a young attractive female, she was in his age group, rather than you as you were a good 6 years younger then Jungkook, but love is love and you both don't mind the age gap.

It was currently 9:44 am. You knew he wouldn't be home for hours on end so you decided to make him lunch and surprise him with it.

-time skip lunch time-

You finished up preparing a nice healthy lunch for your boyfriend and stopped when your lie came back to your head. Jungkook thinks you're pregnant, which wasn't a total lie to begin with but you did have a false positive, you don't know how to tell him so you have kept it in and it's been a few weeks. You feel so guilty about it but you hope he understands. You plan on telling him at lunch today.

-Time Skip to building-

You walk into the elevator and push the number 9, that's the floor his office is on. You wait and wait listening to the awkward elevator music until it dings signaling you the doors are open. You walk out, take a deep breath and walk down the hall to your left. You were shaking, you were nervous and you were worried that this lie would ruin your relationship, but it had to be said. You couldn't go any longer with the guilt eating you up second by second.

You were going to knock, but when you saw the time you knew he was on his break already, so you just walked in and spoke happily.

You: "Hi baby! I brought you some lunch for today."

You walked over to his right side seeing he was still working on paper work even though it was his break. Overworking himself was almost like a skill he had. You set down the small containers in front of him and hugged him around his back still not getting any attention from him whatsoever.

You: "Baby take a break you need one." You spoke softly in his ear and kissed his cheek. He stiffened and sighed out of annoyance.

Jungkook: "No, thank you for the lunch you may leave now I'm busy."

His coldness did sting a little but you smiled and tried to look past it.

You: "No Jungkook, I have some things that I need to discuss with you."

He harshly looked up at you, and you're now sitting in the small seat across from him.

Jungkook: "Can't it wait until I'm home?!" He snapped causing you to flinch a little.

You simply shook your head no, giving him a look that made his features soften, but only for a split second before they turned cold yet again.

He sat there staring at you waiting for you to hurry and get it over with, you took a deep breath and started to speak.

You: "So...you know how I showed you those pregnancy tests?" He looked bored.

You: "Anyways...I am not actually pregnant kook..." You said it quickly, part of you hoping he didn't hear it so you could just run far away, but luck wasn't on your side, and you received Karma.

He stood up abruptly and slammed his fists on his desk, causing the glass like surface to shatter a bit. He ignored the pain shooting to his knuckles and yelled at you with dagger like eyes.

Jungkook: "WHAT DID YOU SAY!? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME Y/N?!"

He was cold yes, but he never ever rose his voice at you this loudly. You looked down trying to evade his glare, and that only added more fuel to his fire.

Before you could even stand up properly, Jungkook immediately spoke in a harsh tone causing an immense amount of pain shooting right to your heart and head.

Jungkook: "You know what since you're admitting that you lied to me, then that means I can admit my lie to you! I never loved you, and I've been cheating on you." He spoke those words with almost no emotion in his eyes. He didn't care about you anymore. He didn't love you anymore.

With that confession from him, you slowly stood up and nodded. Your heart already shattered into a million broken little pieces but what could you expect? You already admitted to him that you were not the best to be with. He is Jeon Jungkook for fucks sake. The multi millionaire that runs the biggest company in all of Asia. You were just a pesky fly in his way of happiness.

So you did what you thought any logical person would do. You walked up to him and hugged him. Holding in your sad filled tears you hugged him and thanked him for being in your life, for loving you that small bit of time he did. You almost gasped when you felt arms hug you back, until they weren't actually hugging you, they were just moving you off his body so he could shove you away yet again.

You spoke softly, still trying to suppress your tears.

You: "You may not love me but I'll always love you Jeon Jungkook. "

And with that you left, you left so he could move on and be happy. Deep down inside you, you knew you'd never find love and happiness again.

End♡︎

A/N-

Woah that was a sad one, so sorry for being depressing but I really did like this. Most Wattpad fanfics focus on the imagination of love, and not what could have happened in sad terms.

Anyways I hope you all have a fantastic day/night and see you soon don't forget to leave a heart~ <3

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

One daiquiri at home for the nozel and solid because their brothers😤.

😁Thanks

Oh I don't think I have written a fic for these two. As in, I'ver written fics for both of them, but not a brotherly interaction. This'll be fun to explore! ^^

Characters: Solid & Nozel (platonic/family obviously) Fanfic type: Oneshot Prompt: Daiquiri (general-fluff) with Solid and Nozel with a focus on them being brothers Length: ~1.2k Warnings: It's a bit angsty? The Silva family isn't a happy family, okay? It's difficult to keep it general-general, but there's an attempt of brotherly affection and a nice discussion

Solid couldn’t remember the last time when he had gone to this brother for advice. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he had, really, gone to anyone for advice.

Sure, he had been given some, when it came to training, by Nebra and Nozel, but that was… that he thought to be different. It wasn’t that he had sought out for advice from them per se, but rather it came with becoming a stronger mage. And the insight of those two, he would listen.

And… he wasn’t sure if he was, even now, going to ask for advice.

But something… in him wanted to … talk with Nozel. He wanted to… chat… with him?

He couldn’t quite put it into words, but ever since they had started becoming closer as siblings, all four of them, Solid had found himself wanting to experience the type of a sibling bond that brothers would share.

Sure, Nebra was nice to talk to, but there was only so much chatter about dresses and makeup that he could put up with. It was almost like talking to Kirsch at times!

But Nebra was… his sister. And Solid couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to talk to her brother as… just a brother.

Yeah… maybe that was it. Solid wanted to ask for advice on how to talk to him.

It sounded ludicrous. Stupid even. When thought as it was, and would sound even more so if spoken out loud. But as he stood there, behind Nozel’s office door for what must’ve been already about ten minutes or so, he had made up his mind.

He would talk to Nozel. About… something. And so, he raised his hand to knock the wooden door, his knuckles creating a hollow sound against the hard surface. But the sound seemed… deeper, more grave, than what he remembered.

Or then, perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

“You may enter,” Nozel spoke from the other side of the door, as a reply to which, Solid pushed open the door, and entered the office, closing the door behind him.

“Good day brother, I hope you’re doing well,” Solid said, which didn’t sound at all like him, and it made him clench his jaw. It sounded… weak, almost pathetic. It sounded like he wanted to please Nozel, be a good younger brother to him. Whatever that meant.

“What is the problem, Solid?”, Nozel asked with a quirked eyebrow as Solid stood in front of the desk, eyes to the floor.

And there was something… something so peculiar in the moment to both of them. Perhaps if they had taken a moment to take a note of the way they were there, in that moment, Solid might have realize that the way he entered the office was similar to the one he had used when requesting something from their father. When he was a mere boy, afraid of the man who was raising him.

If it could be called as ‘raising’ to begin with.

And Nozel? Nozel might have realized that now he was seeing how Solid, and perhaps even Nozel himself during his younger years, had felt while facing their father. Perhaps he might have realized just how they both had looked like when standing in front of the man who had born the title of ‘Lord Silva’.

“I wish to talk with you, brother.”

“About?”

That was when silence settled back into the room. Because Solid still wasn’t sure about what to tell Nozel. What was it that he wanted to talk about? Even if the end goal was for them to become closer as a family, surely there was something to say, something to ask in order to get there?

“How, how was your day?!” He nearly shouted.

While Nozel’s eyebrow remained quirked. “It has been well, so far.”

Another pause, another moment of silence.

“That is good to hear!” Solid nearly shouted again, but his voice broke.

“What is this really about?” Nozel asked, curious, and slightly concerned.

But Solid didn’t really have an answer. Or… he did, but it wasn’t one that he would really have wanted to speak out. And so, as they remained, without speaking, for a minute or two, despite it seeming far longer, Nozel sighed while lowering his eyebrow.

“Take a seat,” Nozel told him, with a small gesturing movement.

But it was enough to make Solid glance to Nozel from the floor.

And again, had either of them taken a moment to look to the room, to the situation from an outside perspective, they might have realized that it was more than their father could ever have been hoped to do. For their father, would never have extended a hand, made a gesture such as that.

But it was with that motion, and those words, that Solid, sat down.

“What is this about, Solid?” Nozel asked again, this time leaning over the table.

But still Solid hesitated. He was bad at this. Both of them were. Not that the question of what this was about, would have been uncalled for. It was, actually, perfectly rational.

It was rational.

And Nozel was looking for a rational answer. The only one being, or the only one Solid could think of, being the truth.

So, he parted his lips and whispered: “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

“…Anything.” He was sure that was what he wanted. He wanted to have a brother. Not just on paper. But to really have and feel like he had, a brother.

“Anything?” Nozel repeated with a questioning frown.

“Yes…” Solid admitted. “Because I… now that we’re… talking about the things that happened, with Noelle and everything, with all of us I thought that… We haven’t really been a family. And I can talk to Nebra about a lot of things but I… I just wanted to talk to you.” He had no real train of thought, but it was there, how he felt, hidden behind those lines.

Nozel wasn’t sure how to reply. He wasn’t sure what, if anything, he could really say. Because how does reply to such a statement? So, instead of replying directly, he said something else.

“So…” he cleared his throat. “How was your day?” It was clumsy and uncertain. Careful and stiff in the way it came out. But… it was as good as anything else.

“Good,” Solid replied, amused in the slightest of the question. Or not even the question, the situation itself. “I’ve been training hard.”

“Good,” Nozel replied. “Perhaps… umm… If you train hard, you may, perhaps, take on as Captain, after me.”

“Nebra … I don’t think… would be interested in becoming a Captain.”

“Still, it requires the utmost skill. It is a product of many years of work.”

“I know, brother. I’ve seen you work tirelessly for it.”

“So… you know that it can be done.”

“I do,” Solid nodded.

The entire exchange was strange. It was so… personal yet impersonal. The topic wasn’t personal per se, but the way it went, the way they talked, felt like a genuine exchange between the two of them, as people, as individuals rather than knights.

An exchange between long lost brothers, who had lived under the same roof.

It was only one exchange, but … with time, it would become many. This was only the first step towards the right direction.

[marnz]

some thoughts about life right now;

i've been on a really intense project since late July and let me tell you, i am tired! i'm one of the few people at my job that specialize in this type of work--we are excited to train more--but for now i am just hanging out here preparing to trade one high pressure project for another for the foreseeable future. which ultimately is fine! even though it can be stressful, I would rather be doing this type of work, which is interesting and super fulfilling and matters a lot to me, than other types of work, which do not feel fulfilling and are actually pretty boring.

it's a little confusing to find myself here because last year i went on medical leave for mental health reasons and prior to that i was doing a very different kind of work, and when i came back in january they started me off with this new kind of work (which i do prefer) with basically no training from my supervisor. which is fine, i am comfortable learning on the fly and/or teaching myself, and i have both a lot of experience doing this and a lot of experience in Complex Projects, albeit in a different practice area. then i moved onto this project in late july. so like again very little training in this specific type of work but i assure you, nothing is as stressful as my last job was. and i do love this project! even though it's stressful! i've since learned that this is just going to be my specialty! which like...i am happy with the outcome but i feel like i sort of tripped and fell into it in the least expected way possible.

while thinking about it, i think i thought i'd only make it to this kind of work, this kind of project, by working hard--and i had a specific idea of what working hard looked like, what striving looked like. but i have been working hard for the last year or so, healing, learning, growing, recovering, all of it. and that is hard work. and by taking time to tend to myself, and grow and change and learn and heal, i became ready for this kind of stressful work. and that's not the narrative we have around this. culturally we have a narrative of self sacrifice and unpaid overtime and being really fucking type A and having unhealthy work/life balance, but as soon as I stepped away and said actually, i've had enough, i will not burn my life out for you, i started down a road that led me to doing the type of work i want to do in a healthier and more prepared way. and that's fucking awesome!

for now i am just trying to make it to the end of this project in mid october. which means coping skills, baby! wish i could write but i don't have capacity for it rn, and that's fine. so my priorities are: maintenance days (cleaning/chores). reading. knitting. baking. yoga. hiking. i want to make life as easy and cozy for myself as possible right now.

i haven't knit for several months and I'm thinking of trying my first sweater--this gorgeous sweater called Mountain Mist. however i've never done colorwork before so the pattern suggests doing the same colorwork in a swatch hat (here) to practice. i am SO HYPE!!! this pattern is also admittedly deeply my aesthetic. i showed it to my partner and he laughed bc it's so typically me lol. i also checked out the first book in Tana French's Dublin Murders series on audiobook to listen too while knitting. spooky season means murder mysteries. 🥰

also my work office is being remodeled so i will be working from home for the next 6ish months, and we're preparing to overhaul my little work corner in our house so it is better/more ergonomic/has more storage/is cuter. also i am going to get a standing desk for my poor knees 😵‍💫 recently worked from 8:30 to 9:30 and my knees hurt sooooo bad 😩

it's nice to know that a year ago i wouldn't have been able to handle this project or really know how to slow down and prioritize self care and after a ton of hard work on my mental health i'm now i'm like, well, it is a bit stressful but we got this. progress 😌💖