#I'm nervous because it isn't insured | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

70% of Tumblr users say the Dashboard is their favorite place to spend time online.

#I'm nervous because it isn't insured

lovelyhan · 3 months

Text

— melting point ⟢

rumor has it that icy department head of pledis insurance has something going on with her loyal secretary, wonwoo. well, she does—it's just not the kind of behind-closed-doors business one would expect for them to partake in.

★ FEATURING; secretary!wonwoo x afab!oc

★ WORD COUNT; 12.3k words

★ TAGS; coworkers to lovers, revenge fic, angst, smut

★ WARNINGS; blackmailing, manipulation, mentions of past bullying, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; hi... it's been forever, hasn't it? i missed tumblr a lot, and have decided to grace the tags with this fic after months of radio silence heheh ! this was a commissioned piece on twt which i tweaked to fit my tumblr audience better! cheers to 5k followers even in my absence t__t you guys are the best!

★ PS; i'm sorry i can't be bothered to dig up my taglist and tag those who filled it up T T

There’s a saying in PLEDIS Insurance that goes: enjoy your coffee early because once the Ice Queen is in, it’ll turn just as cold as she is.

Of course, the words were merely thrown around in jest. Something that bored employees come up with in the break room whenever they’re careless enough to think their little jokes won’t reach said ice queen’s ears. But still—they’re just jokes. As long as they worked enough to satisfy their salaries’ worth, Emma the Ice Queen would always turn a blind eye. She might be cold, but she isn’t completely heartless.

Most of the time.

“Good morning, ma’am,” her secretary, Wonwoo, greeted with a curt nod as she entered her office.

Emma scoffed before setting her things down on her work desk, the frown on her face only worsening when she sees the elegantly wrapped gift box in front of her. “What's this?”

Wonwoo swallowed thickly, like he was nervous. Wonwoo never gets nervous.

“We have an...unforeseen circumstance,” he prefaced before tapping away on the iPad in his arms. “Sir Leo from the Choi group wants to pursue you.”

“Unforeseen?” Emma repeated. “Wonwoo, this is completely foreseen. Isn't it our from the start is to make them fall in love, only for us to expose their dirty secrets in the end?”

He looked as if he wanted to agree. But after turning the screen of his iPad so Emma could see the article written on some shoddy newsletter, her brows furrowed together in confusion.

A Race for the Inheritance: How the Choi Group’s Next Generation of Ambitious Youngbloods Will Do Everything to Get Their Fill of Old Money.

The title itself didn’t give Emma much context of what exactly was making Wonwoo—her ever-composed secretary—lose his composure. It’s natural to see the sons and daughters of a powerful business conglomerate fight each other for their rights to the family inheritance. But after reading through what the rest of the article had to offer, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly started to fit.

“They're seeing who gets to get married first?” Emma laughed incredulously before handing the iPad back to Wonwoo. “Does Leo really think he can get me to become his lover—even more so his wife—after everything he did to me in high school?”

Wonwoo breathed in deeply. “Miss Emma, we both know the answer to that. If it were all up to you, you could easily put him to shame and reject him. But his interests somewhat align with the director’s interests as well…”

Ah. Her father’s interests.

“No,” she answered sharply. “Even if he kicks me out of my position, I’m not going to be wed to that prick.”

“Are you sure about that?” Wonwoo sighed before adjusting his glasses. “Miss Emma, we both know you love your work more than anything. And you're chronically attached to this company even if you despise the executives. Sir Leo has good leverage over you, sad to say.”

There was something irritating about hearing Wonwoo call his ex-best friend Sir, as if he was underneath some scumbag of a human being like Leo. But then again, years have passed since then. Lots of things have changed.

But Emma’s grudges hold steadfast, still.

“Hmph, whatever.” She dismissed the matter with a nonchalant wave before unwrapping the gift box in front of her. “Was this from Leo, too? Is he on a deadline or something?”

“Hmm, first one that gets married before December gets the rights to the inheritance,” Wonwoo informed her as he picked the clutter of ribbons off Emma’s desk and pocketed them in his coat for later disposal. “Do you want me to look up the progress of his siblings and cousins? We can sabotage him while it's still early.”

Emma didn’t respond right away—preoccupied with unwrapping Leo's so-called gift. But when she sees a red velvet box with an engagement ring and a folded letter inside, she begrudgingly realized that Leo wouldn’t be as easy a target as her other high school bullies.

No, this man really was rotten to the core.

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you already heard the news. You know what to do, right, Emma?

Or should I say, wifey? ;)

“Send this back to him. Now.”

Wonwoo nodded obediently as Emma pushed Leo's cursed gift box away from her. “Alright. Anything else I can do for you? Like…have someone plant a snake in his bedroom or something?”

Despite the sour mood that Leo undoubtedly put her in this morning, Wonwoo's little idea of a joke made the corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile. The offer was tempting, but in the end, she shook her head and booted up the PC on her desk instead.

“As much as I want his death by a snake bite to headline the news, Leo doesn’t deserve to get out of this the easy way.” Emma muttered as she started browsing through the hard-drive she’d hooked up onto the computer. “And lucky for us, I finally got the evidence to send his suspiciously prosperous career down into a spiral.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow before taking a peek behind her. “What's that? Money laundering records? Tax fraud?”

No. It was really something as simple as—

“Footage of a mass orgy he participated in,” Emma casually told her secretary as she clicked on the only video on the hard drive. “Might not look like a big deal compared to what we had to go through with Ezra, but Leo belongs to a family of devout Catholics. Good thing your contact from Leo's favorite bar had some use. All I did was ask around and he quickly spilled all the details with the right amount of money.”

Wonwoo chuckled as he flashed her an impressed look. “As far as I know, I’m the one who’s supposed to do the dirty work for you. Why are you directly involving yourself in matters you can leave to me?”

The lewd video continued to play on her screen—muted, of course—and one could easily make out Leo Choi's face amongst the crowd of sex-depraved freaks. Once they sent this over anonymously to each and every person who might think that scumbag deserved to inherit his family’s wealth, it would be all over for him.

“‘Cause we’re a team, Wonwoo,” she chuckled. “You’ve done your fair share of work when we took down Gavin and Ezra. But admittedly…I've got more bones to pick with Leo. I think it’s only fair for me to orchestrate his downfall with my own two hands.”

“Right…” Wonwoo agreed with a hint of fondness in his tone that completely went over Emma’s head—far too triumphant with her newfound ammunition.

“We’re a team.”

But it wasn’t always that way.

Wonwoo was actually more deeply involved in Emma’s mission to exact revenge on the people who’ve wronged her years ago than one would otherwise expect. He’d been best friends with Leo since they were kids, and when they eventually met Gavin and Ezra in their high school basketball team, the four of them were quite inseparable.

But despite being his best friend, Wonwoo knew that Leo could be quite…off-putting with his behavior sometimes.

“Hey, look at that,” Sixteen year-old Leo scoffed before gesturing towards the loud girl earning amused stares in the cafeteria. “She's so fucking loud. Is she the new transfer student?”

Gavin snickered as he took a bite out of his lunch. “How'd she even get in here? Our tuition isn't a joke, and she doesn't really look like she can afford it. The kid of a maid, maybe?”

“Or she could be one of those financial scholarship kids,” Ezra pitched in with a shrug. “Though she doesn't look very bright if we're being honest.”

Wonwoo didn’t offer anything to the conversation, merely eating his food quietly as his friends talked smack about the new transfer student in their class. Emma Rodriguez was like a piece of meat thrown into a pit of vipers. Some might like her—like the classmates who were howling with laughter because of her antics—but others looked at her with disdain.

She didn’t belong to any wealthy well-known families like every other kid in their grade. The girl simply popped out of nowhere like an eyesore, according to Leo. Wonwoo didn’t really mind her presence though. She made the boring monotone of his school days a bit more bearable with her energy.

But what Wonwoo thought was just his friends’ surface-level dislike for a girl who behaved differently from the others in their grade turned out to be something else.

Something worse.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what bullying was, and was well-aware that what his friends constantly did to Emma wasn’t something that normal high schoolers did. Leo was the most vicious about it, and Wonwoo never really got to know his reasons for doing all those horrible things.

But whenever they spotted Emma horsing around in the hallways, Leo would always be the first one to come up to her—calling her names like fraud, gold digger, and the like. Gavin and Ezra followed each and every time, and they were usually the ones who pushed her around for no real reason.

And Wonwoo? Wonwoo was the one who always stood a few feet away every time his friends decided they were in the mood to pick on the transfer student. The one who always stayed quiet and pretended nothing unsightly was happening in front of him.

The one whose gaze Emma always tried to silently catch, hoping he’d be the one to stop his friends from harassing her.

But he never did.

That cycle of three boys bullying a once bright and bubbly transfer student became commonplace. Before their third year in high school came to a close, Emma suddenly vanished off the radar. She didn’t attend their classes, nor was she there in the completion ceremonies at the end of every school year.

Most of the kids around Wonwoo didn’t really give two shits about her sudden disappearance. Word around the street was that she transferred out because of the heavy harassment she was getting, not just from his friends, but also the rest of the students from their grade. They didn’t think Emma was funny because of her silly antics and loud jokes anymore.

Everyone started to collectively think of her as a nuisance, and the fact that she had no familial connections to protect herself with only fed into the senseless yet oh-so popular trend of crushing Emma Rodriguez’s hopes and dreams into the ground.

It was almost like Wonwoo was the only person in their entire grade who felt the tiniest bit of pity for her. But he told himself long ago that someone like him had no right to feel sorry for someone he never bothered trying to help.

The years passed by in a flash. After Emma’s disappearance, Wonwoo quit the basketball team and completely cut off his friends and everyone else who actively hurt her. He didn’t really know why either—all he knew was that he couldn’t stomach the idea of keeping those connections despite what they drove Emma to do.

Of course, he knew he wasn’t completely innocent either. But it wasn’t too late to be a decent person, right?

Wonwoo simply went through the motions of graduating high school, then college, before pursuing a career in the vicious world of the corporate hierarchy. But instead of gunning for executive positions like his fellow fresh grads dared to dream, he worked his way up without using his family’s prestige to his own advantage.

In fact, Wonwoo realized he liked working closely with his bosses. That’s why he became the designated secretary to all the finance department heads who walked through the doors of PLEDIS Insurance. He was content with being a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy who’s at the beck and call of someone else—a tool who worked on the sidelines. He never really wanted to be the face of any company anyway.

But then, in his fifth year on the job, he was told that there were a couple of changes in PLEDIS’ executive board. The boss he’d been working under was set to retire and he’d be replaced with a new one—someone younger and full of promise, as the head of human resources dramatically explained to him.

It wasn’t really a deal breaker or anything. As long as Wonwoo got paid, he’d gladly work for even the most terrible of people in this industry.

But on the day his new boss was set to start, he was haunted by a ghost from the past instead.

Wonwoo hasn’t spared a single thought for Emma Rodriguez in God knows how long. Yet the moment she stepped into the office, he recognized her almost immediately. There was no trace of that girl people called gold digger and other derogatory names because of her appearance. This was a woman with her head held high—someone who oozed confidence in every stride with a gaze sharper than her winged eyeliner.

Yet Wonwoo couldn’t be mistaken. This really was Emma Rodriguez.

He wondered if she remembered him, too. The boy who kept quiet about those who bullied her in those few crucial years of her life. Wonwoo even considered apologizing for not doing anything to help her when he should have.

“Ah, Wonwoo Jeon?” Emma repeated his name with a dismissive air, almost like she was wholly uninterested in him. “The one who just watched when Gavin Kim pushed me in the muddy courtyard at school? The one who pretended not to see when Leo Choi splashed paint all over my uniform? Of course I remember you.”

God. Was this her exacting retribution?

For the next few days since she came into the office, Wonwoo helped Emma get used to the feel of things in the Finance Department. At least, that was his intention.

From the looks of it, Emma already knew the ins-and-outs of managing a company’s cash inflow and outflow, as well as the other gritty, more technical details that came with accounting for each and every cent. She managed to prepare and present several sets of data that his previous boss had trouble organizing to the current board of directors within two days’ time.

Her work ethic was admirable—she got the job done quickly and efficiently, and that made her earn the respect of her subordinates faster than Wonwoo had seen them warm up to their previous bosses. It would have been the perfect relationship between the new department head and her employees, if it weren’t for Emma’s stone cold behavior towards other people.

Not only did she look different from the Emma he knew in high school, but she acted differently too. Wonwoo couldn’t picture this Emma purposely making a fool out of herself just to make the people around her laugh. This Emma wanted the entire team to get the work handed to them done as soon as possible, and if they did, the most they’d receive in return is a mere nod in approval and nothing else.

It was for that reason that employees would start calling her the Ice Queen. Though she wasn’t some tyrant that gave people an unreasonable workload—she was actually very lenient and fair about the division of tasks—her people skills needed a little work.

That or Emma was purposely shutting everyone out with her chilly attitude.

Wonwoo had a few clues as to why she’d want to do that, but he’s a secretary, not a therapist. The only thing he could do about it was to keep his silence.

But then came a day when Emma asked him to come into her office to do something he completely expected from her but didn’t at the same time.

“Are you still in touch with Leo, Gavin, and Ezra?” she asked him, not even bothering to look up from the report she’s reading off her PC.

The question caught Wonwoo off-guard and it was obvious Emma caught on to his reaction if the tiny smirk that curved across her lips was anything to go by. Still, he took it in stride—breathing in through his nose as he thought about his answer.

He hasn’t been in touch with any of them since his high school graduation. All their attempts at reaching out to Wonwoo to invite him for a quick game of ball or a round of drinks somewhere in the city were all ignored. Not even turned down—ignored.

Leo was the most persistent about it. After all, they were best friends. But after several years of Wonwoo not even bothering to give their invites a single glance, Leo stopped reaching out altogether. Wonwoo's life became a lot more peaceful since he cut ties with them, and he never really regretted the decision to do so.

But perhaps the universe really was telling him to pay the price for his past inaction now that Emma was bringing up the past on a regular Wednesday afternoon.

“No, ma’am,” he told her honestly. “Do you want me to reach out to them? Their contact details are pretty easy to get our hands on.”

Emma sighed quietly before meeting his gaze, an unreadable look hovering across her face. “Mmm. Yeah, I’d like that. But aren't you going to ask why I want to contact them again?”

He wanted to, but Wonwoo learned that in his line of work, the last thing he should do was ask questions. It made him wonder if Emma was purposely setting him up on some sort of conversational bear trap, but seeing as he didn’t really have anything to lose by giving, he chose to relent.

“...Why?”

The silence of her office rang in his ears as Emma typed away on her keyboard. It was a mechanical one with tactile switches that matched the color of her desktop wallpaper. He didn’t take her to be someone who cared enough about aesthetics to that degree, but then again, Wonwoo never really got a chance to get to know her back then.

He was too much of a coward to do so.

Once she was done, Emma got up from her ergonomic chair (which also matched her desktop setup), leveling her gaze with Wonwoo's even if the latter was easily a head taller than she was. Something about the glint in her eyes made him swallow the lump in his throat. Not to mention that sweet yet chilly smile that graced her bright red lips.

“It’s really simple, Wonwoo,” she told him with a laugh.

“I want revenge.”

And that’s how their little team was formed.

It was a two-person job. Emma entrusted Wonwoo with digging up the information she needed about the three men she wanted to bring down, all while she was in charge of putting their plans into motion by heading over to the front lines.

Gavin was an easy target. Unlike the other two, he’s the only one who pursued professional basketball and for a while, he amassed quite the number of fans and admirers because of his outstanding plays. What’s more was that he managed to wife up a beauty queen who’s already conquered the international stage a few years back. Now with their first baby on the way, one would think that Gavin Kim has a picture perfect life.

But further down the road, talk about how he’s actually a womanizing wife beater started to seep out of the cracks and crevices of the athletic industry. The allegations were serious, but no one really bothered batting an eye. It’s normal. Lots of athletes are like that. We can't do anything about it.

It was easy to get a hold of which gym Gavin frequents to maintain his physique. He preferred working out in public facilities instead of the one provided for his team because it gave him all the freedom to ogle and flirt with other women who just happened to be hitting the gym on days he was on the prowl.

Wonwoo even added a little footnote in the file he prepared that said likes to engage in post-workout coitus in the shower rooms. Emma rolled her eyes in disgust when she read it, but made sure to keep it in mind.

The day finally came when she’d collect enough evidence to ruin Gavin’s career. Emma hasn’t dropped by the gym in a while—work having sapped her energy too much to let her psych herself back into working out. But she realized she didn’t have to act out too much because the moment she started operating the treadmill right next to Gavin’s, he was already checking her out.

He didn’t seem to recognize who she was, unlike Wonwoo. But then again Gavin was easily the stupidest out of her trio of high school bullies. This man was all brawn and no brains, which was why it was all too easy for Emma to seduce him in the showers of this shoddy gym not thirty minutes since she’d arrived.

It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The last thing Emma wanted was to have this idiotic man inside of her so she offered to go on her knees and blow him instead—something that Gavin was all too happy to relent to.

He didn’t even boast a cock of considerable size. It probably wasn’t any longer than her middle finger, and for a split second, she wondered why his beauty queen wife stayed with him despite having a cock that didn’t back up his cocky attitude. It was probably the money.

Emma didn’t waste much time though. Wonwoo visited this gym only a few hours prior to plant a bug somewhere inside the specific shower stall they were currently occupying. She just had to hope she and Gavin were positioned well enough so the camera would get a full view of what they were doing.

It was the longest twenty minutes of Emma’s life, and she had to go home right away to disinfect her mouth about ten times, but hey. All in the name of vengeance, right?

At around eight in the evening on that same Saturday, her phone lit up with an email notification from Wonwoo.

From: Wonwoo Jeon Subject: CLASSIFIED Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well. I retrieved our bug from the gym earlier today and extracted the videos taken before properly disposing of it. Attached to this email is the MP4 file of our evidence against Mr. Gavin Kim. Around the time this message arrives to you, I have simultaneously sent said evidence to Mr. Kim’s managers, sponsors, teammates, other colleagues, and of course, his wife. The only difference between their emails and yours is that this is a self-destructing message. Once you’ve closed this window, it will be deleted from your inbox without a trace. So if you are interested in watching the video below, best save it to your device of choice for better perusal. If you have any further questions and concerns, I am merely a text message away. Regards, Wonwoo Jeon Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department PLEDIS Insurance

Like hell she was going to watch it.

The moment Emma finished reading through Wonwoo's overly formal email, she quickly exited the window and, true to his word, the message itself had disappeared. Despite being a fairly new player to the game, she had to commend all the precautions Wonwoo was setting to make sure her plans were a success.

It made her wonder if his previous bosses have also asked him to do shady things under the company’s nose in the past. Whether or not that's true, she was reaping the benefits of his expertise, so she had no room for complaints.

As long as she had Wonwoo, she’d get to punish everyone who wronged her without fail.

Gavin’s downfall followed soon after.

Tabloids were their best friend in that scenario. The thumbnail of the video that Wonwoo spread around like some virus that wouldn’t stop replicating headlined every single paper, talking about how one of the most promising basketball stars of their generation had fallen prey to his own vices.

It was a good thing that not only was Wonwoo careful enough to not leave digital footprints as he sent out those emails, but he also edited the video to keep Emma’s identity a secret. As Gavin’s world started to crumble before his eyes—him being kicked off the starting roster of the team, his wife leaving him behind, and the public execution of his reputation—Emma simply shared a bottle of aged wine from Tuscany with the man who helped her pull off a wonderful performance.

“You’re not too bad,” she mused as she took a small sip, crossing her legs from where she’s seated unceremoniously on the edge of her desk. “You're surprisingly more on-board with this plan than I thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were never friends with Gavin in the first place.”

Wonwoo retained his stoic demeanor, not having touched the glass Emma offered him simply because it was against company regulations to intoxicate himself on the job. “If my boss tells me to ruin someone's life, I'm mandated to do it. I’m just doing what’s written on my job description, ma’am.”

Emma’s lips stretched into a grin as she threw her head back with a laugh. She leaned in closer to Wonwoo, who seemed wholly unfazed by the fact that the gesture granted him an ample view of her cleavage through her blouse.

“Does your job description cover watching and editing your boss' sex scandal so you can mass send it to hundreds of people?” She giggled before leaning back to take another sip of her drink. “You’re in the green for now, Wonwoo. Keep it up and I might just have a pay raise arranged for you with HR if our next escapade is a success.”

He hummed in understanding. “Who’s next?”

In usual Emma fashion, she didn’t give him a straight answer right away. Instead, she hopped back to the carpeted floor of her office—not even wobbling in those thin heels she’s wearing—before rounding her desk to access her computer.

“Have you been watching TV lately? Primetime soap operas?” she asked him as she clicked away on her screen.

Wonwoo shook his head. “They don’t really interest me, ma’am.”

“I figured they wouldn’t. But this might.”

Emma gestured for him to peer at her monitor and Wonwoo wordlessly followed suit, getting up from his seat and standing behind her. Flashed on the screen was an article from a more reputable news outlet that featured two co-stars who played the main couple in a popular network’s newest drama.

“Ezra Lee and Alaina Park…” Wonwoo muttered under his breath before his eyes flickered to Emma. “You have any leads I can work with?”

His boss chuckled before looking up at him with an expectant smile. “Someone's determined. I never thought I’d get to see someone so eager to do the dirty work for me.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Miss Emma, I'm not sure if you're aware but desk work gets boring sometimes. You’re right. This is a lot more interesting.”

“Alright, then,” Emma chuckled before retrieving both of their wine glasses and handing Wonwoo's back to him. “Unlike Gavin, I don't have a lot of surface-level leads with Ezra. He’s a celebrity—their reputation needs to be squeaky clean, so it makes sense why I can’t dig up anything about him through regular means. But this should be a piece of cake for you, right?”

Wonwoo stared at the bright red liquor inside the expensive glass, gaze darting to the wicked smile playing on Emma’s lips. If he looked a little closer, he would be able to tell that the shade of her lipstick matches the color of the liquor in her hands.

He took it from her grasp with a sigh, clinking the edges of their glasses together before downing the entire thing in one fell swoop. The wine was aged well, and had somewhat of a sweet aftertaste, but despite the appealing flavor, Wonwoo reminded himself to never drink on the job ever again.

“I’ll get back to you once I have the information you need.”

Wonwoo swiftly left Emma’s office after that little victory party. Even with his new sideline of being his boss’s lead henchman, he still had a lot of work to do for PLEDIS Insurance. And that included telling the other employees to quit horsing around in the break room when their designated lunch break ended hours ago.

“Sir Wonwoo,” one of said employees, Soonyoung, snickered before throwing an arm over Wonwoo's shoulders. “You've been hanging out in Miss Emma's office pretty frequently. Is there something going on? You became close real quickly.”

“Yeah” said one Seokmin, who’s still snacking on a wafer despite Wonwoo's scolding. “Boss, we know you're not the fuck-your-way-up kind of guy, but who knows, right? But with your position right now, do you really need it?”

Seungkwan, the last member of their unruly trio, slapped Seokmin’s arm with a scowl. “Hey! Do you really have to say it to his face? Oh, boss, if you make a report about these two, please know I have nothing to do with whatever they're saying.”

Soonyoung snickered. “Are you sure about that? Weren't you the one who first noticed that Sir Wonwoo was stepping inside Miss Emma's office more frequently—”

“Hey! Boss told us to scram, didn't he?! Let's go.”

Seungkwan quickly ushered his two friends out of the break room, scolding them in a hushed tone before they all went back to their respective cubicles. Wonwoo shook his head with a sigh, muttering something about inevitable rumors as he made himself a cup of coffee.

Was that how they perceived Wonwoo’s sudden closeness with the department head? That he was fucking Emma in the solitude of her office? Well, the idea of a boss having illicit relations with their secretary wasn’t too far-fetched. He’s heard about how the head of the Advertising Department gets frisky with his secretary through the corporate grapevine. But just because it was a popular trope among the employees’ strange fantasies, it didn’t mean it applied to himself and Emma as well.

They were strictly professional: he did the dirty work and she paid him in full. That was all there was to it.

(But what people don’t know was that editing Gavin’s scandal wasn’t exactly the walk in the park Emma thought it was.

Despite being one of the most indifferent people in the company, Wonwoo was still a man. Seeing his boss, whose body would be coveted by anyone who dared to want her, in such a compromising position excited an…unexpected physiological reaction out of him.

His resolve was as sturdy as steel, however. Instead of taking care of the obvious problem in his pants as he edited the scandalous video, Wonwoo dealt with it by taking a long, cold shower until all the blood that rushed down south started circulating properly again.

He told himself not to think about it come morning.)

“A drug den?”

Even Emma was baffled by the news that Wonwoo brought her the following week—a scowl of disbelief permanently etched on her face as she scanned the file her secretary prepared for her. Wonwoo merely stood at her side, waiting for her to finish going through the data he’s gathered.

And he sure hoped she understood every single word printed on it. He practically risked his life trying to investigate Ezra’s secret business. No wonder it was so hard to dig up any dirt on him—dead men tell no tales after all.

“This is…” Emma swallowed thickly before continuing, “way above my expectations. If he was just getting faded on his own with a private dealer, I'd understand. Lots of celebrities do recreational drugs. But for him to head an entire operation? Where'd he find the time on top of his taping schedules?”

Wonwoo sighed. “I would’ve been able to investigate further if his men weren't so meticulous. They're fiercely loyal to Ezra. Couldn’t bribe him like we did with Gavin’s gym coach.”

“And you made sure to keep your identity under lockdown?”

“Positive.”

Emma drummed her fingers across the smooth surface of her work desk—brows furrowed as she stared into nothingness. Though they’ve only been working together for roughly six months at most, Wonwoo knew her well enough to realize she hit a wall.

It made him wonder if this was where she would draw the line. Their success with Gavin gave them both an unexpected high, sure, but Wonwoo recognized that this game they were playing was a dangerous one. The people they were trying to take down had more money and connections than the two of them could ever hope to get their hands on.

But one thing that he failed to recognize right away about Emma was that she’s always been grossly ambitious.

“The file you gave me also mentioned na he was hoping to insure his new house in Incheon,” she pointed out. “Care to tell me why you decided to include that?”

“I know you told me not to involve the company in this as much as we can, but I couldn’t think of any other way to penetrate into his circle.” Wonwoo adjusted his necktie, suddenly feeling like he’s being watched by the hawk that was his boss. “I’ve been told that he’s wary of people. Side effects of the cocaine, probably. Though the info broker sounded like he was joking, it’s best to be wary of him. If he can hide behind the protection of his management and his family, we need to play our cards right and protect ourselves, too.”

Emma took a moment to process what her secretary just told her, nodding slowly before closing the folder containing Ezra’s file and locking it inside a hidden drawer beneath her desk.

“Oh, Wonwoo. If only all men were as intelligent as you are,” she sighed, getting up from her seat before pinching his face. “Good work. Let's go out for drinks later. My treat.”

Wonwoo's face twisted with confusion. “For what? Doing my job?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “For going above and beyond every single time. You think you're only good at doing dirty work? At being my errand boy? You never fall behind your quotas here in the office either, you know. I think that in itself is a cause for celebration.”

Now that she’s reasoned it out, Wonwoo was even more weirded out by this strange turn of events. In the six months that Emma Rodriguez has spent as the head of PLEDIS Insurance’s Finance head, she never failed to uphold that arctic cold façade. She treated both executives and regular employees with the same degree of cut-throat harshness.

And that’s when Wonwoo realized that she didn’t really treat him the way she treated them.

Huh. Did the Ice Queen have a melting point after all?

Despite his extensive protests, however, Wonwoo let Emma rope him into grabbing dinner and drinks at a food hub several districts away from their office. The fewer people who could recognize them outside, the better. Of course, he pleaded and reminded her several times that she was his boss and she really didn’t have to—

“Hey! Keep drinking!” Emma slurred with a huff, face red from the alcohol as she pushed another pint of beer into Wonwoo's face. “Why aren't you drunk yet, huh, Wonwoo Jeon? Are you God? Maybe that's why you're so good at obtaining information for me. Ah! No! Maybe you're the devil! Right, what we're doing isn't exactly good nor is it legal…”

Wonwoo exhaled long and hard as his boss continued blabbering nonsense across from him at their shared table. One glance at the smartwatch on his wrist told him that it was near midnight and that he should probably bring Emma home before she could make a scene.

But…maybe they could stay for a few minutes more.

“Miss Emma? Are you sleepy?”

“Hm? Why would I be sleepy? We're drinking, aren't we?”

“You're half-asleep on the table, so.”

At the prospect of being called out, Emma quickly shot into an upright position—looking around to see if anyone caught her drooling. When she realized she was in the clear, she narrowed her eyes at Wonwoo.

“Not a word about this in the office,” she warned, using one of the finished barbecue sticks on their empty plates to threaten him. “But...yeah. Alcohol makes me sleepy. Drive me home.”

Not even a please. This woman was really shameless even when drunk.

Not a peep of complaint was heard from Wonwoo when he drove Emma all the way to her condo unit in uptown Poblacion. Though he had to practically carry her inside and even help her out of her clothes and into her pajamas (at her request, not his own initiative), he simply told himself this was all part of his job.

When his boss was safely tucked in bed, he was ready to bid her farewell and head back to his own place to catch up on some sleep. But for someone who was intoxicated beyond belief, Emma was still quite aware of her surroundings. The moment Wonwoo took a step away from her bed, her hand shot out to grab ahold of his wrist, making Wonwoo look back at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Wonwoo,” she murmured, face still smothered in her pillows despite her tight grip. “Can you stay?”

“There's nowhere for me to sleep,” he chuckled. “I should go.”

“Then sleep next to me.”

The furrow on his brow merely deepened. He’d ask her to repeat what she said, but Wonwoo could recognize that Emma wasn’t really in the headspace to be reasonable right now. So instead of refuting her wish, Wonwoo carefully pried her fingers off his wrist so he could take off his work coat and fold it neatly on top of her vanity table.

This is all part of the job, he told himself.

Wonwoo laid on his boss’ duvet perfectly still. He didn’t want to make the mistake of touching her when he didn’t have explicit permission to do so. He was merely told to sleep next to her after all—nothing else.

But about fifteen minutes after he lied next to her, Emma shifted on her side of the bed—turning to him with a sleepy look in her eyes.

“You know,” she whispered, so softly, he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he was. “I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.”

Emma probably won’t remember what she mumbled in her drunken stupor in the morning. But the sadness and honesty that underlined her words sent him back about ten years into the past. To a time when he was a much greater evil than those who directly wronged her.

An apology sizzled across the tip of his tongue—something that’s a decade overdue. But before Wonwoo could hope to let her hear his piece, Emma’s breathing had become even and shallow.

She was already fast asleep.

He sighed, staring up at the dainty ceiling of her bedroom as he chuckled helplessly to himself.

“That’s why I’m making up for it now.”

If Gavin’s case was a walk in the park, Ezra’s was an Olympic-level marathon.

Wonwoo didn’t want to dwell on the details anymore. To cut it short: he was going to cross out ‘exposing a notorious drug lord’ off his bucket list without thinking of doing it again ever. While he managed to get out unscathed during his investigation, it just so happened that their final altercation with Ezra ended up putting Wonwoo in the hospital.

But so what if he fractured a couple of ribs trying to save Emma from being killed by that drug-addicted lunatic? As long as their goal to bring Emma’s enemies down was achieved, he’d gladly sustain any life-threatening injuries.

Which was, admittedly…strange.

Long before Emma came into the picture as his boss, Wonwoo never would’ve pictured himself risking his neck for the benefit of someone else. Though he had an entire arsenal of skills and knowledge at his disposal, it would take more than just his generous salary to get him to put them to good use.

But with Emma, he found himself utilizing whatever means to help her exact her revenge—on people he once called his friends, much less.

He must be going insane.

“Wonwoo…?”

Funnily enough, he ended up recalling everything that happened over the past two weeks first before recognizing that he was just regaining consciousness in the intensive care unit. Wonwoo's eyes hurt because of how bright the fluorescent lights were overhead, but for some reason, he didn’t flinch away from her relieved smile when it was a million watts brighter than the hospital’s indoor lighting.

“Good…day, ma’am,” he croaked out awkwardly, belatedly realizing that he didn’t know what time it was. “What day is it? Did someone fix your schedule for today? Did someone go over your meal plans in my stead? Were you—”

His endless stream of questions was interrupted by hacking fit—making Emma scramble for a glass of water on the table by his hospital bed, a concerned look lining her gaze.

“Don't talk too much,” she scolded him as he finished his drink. “You’ve been out for two days, idiot.”

Two days?

Needless to say, he couldn’t do a thing about it once his boss started fussing over him. She called over doctors she personally knew and handpicked only the most competent of nurses to look after Wonwoo. How Emma could be the judge of that, Wonwoo wasn’t very sure, but he gladly let her take care of him for a change.

After all, they successfully concluded another chapter in Emma’s little revenge story.

“When are we going to start with Leo?”

Wonwoo brought the matter up about three days after he woke up, right in the middle of eating the stale hospital food served to him for dinner. Emma, who was snacking on some takeout fast food, hummed before tossing a french fry into her mouth.

“You're not even healed yet, and you're thinking about work?” she sighed before pointing a fry in his direction. “I’m still paying you your regular wage even if you're stuck here. You don’t have to worry about making ends meet so much, Wonwoo. You just need to rest—”

“But I don’t want to rest, I want to be useful to you,” he interrupted her gruffly, which was strange of him because he never interrupted his employers.

For a moment, Wonwoo thought he’d be on the receiving end of a verbal lashing even if he was still recovering. Emma never let other people talk back to her without consequences. But instead, his boss threw her head back with a laugh that bordered on a snort. It’s a look that Wonwoo had seen on her time and time again—a look that he noticed Emma only showed to him.

Back then, he didn’t really think of her smile all that much. But now…

“You’re being useful enough just by being alive, Jeon,” she reassured him, that grin of hers unwavering. “Enough questions about Leo. I'm not even thinking about him yet because compared to the previous two? He’s a lot easier to track down.”

Wonwoo shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Same approach lang with Ezra.” She flashed him a toothy smile. “We’re going to get him to insure some of his properties under PLEDIS. But instead of us going to him, he'll be going to us instead.”

“I…? Sorry, ma’am. I don’t follow.”

Emma stifled a soft laugh behind her palm, unwrapping the burger included in her takeout meal before taking a bite of considerable size. “The Choi Corporation is expanding a chain of shopping malls somewhere in Jeju. Leo Choi personally contacted our CEO and there we have it: another big shot client.”

Another person to drag down to hell.

“Is that good enough for you?”

Wonwoo was still processing the news as they both finished up their respective meals. He should probably be glad that Emma didn’t decide to put their secret operation on hold just because he was out of commission. But something about how smoothly they’re progressing into the next phase of Emma’s big revenge plan that made him wary of treading any further.

He felt like he was being paranoid—probably the aftermath of almost crossing to the other side because of what happened with the Ezra incident. Wonwoo couldn’t help but be wary of any and all threats to both his life and Emma’s, and it was for a good reason.

“Okay,” Wonwoo breathed, wincing a little when he felt the spot where his ribs broke ache at how fast he inhaled. “What do you want me to do for now? Investigate? Trace his whereabouts?”

Emma’s smile suddenly turned ice cold. “I want you to rest, Wonwoo. Do I have to keep repeating myself?”

“But—”

“No buts. Boss’ orders—I'm your boss, right?”

Ah, there’s the Ice Queen they all knew and loved.

Fine. Maybe he could use a break from all that quote-unquote field work he just did. But one thing about his entire hospitalization still remained unanswered.

“What did you tell HR? About…this?” Wonwoo gestured towards his battered but healing body. “You’ve got the charisma, but I’m pretty sure it’s difficult even for you to go into cahoots with the other employees of PLEDIS. Much more, our human resources head.”

Emma waved away his concerns with a shake of her head. “You're so persistent, aren't you? Don’t think about HR. Or Leo. Or the rest of our plans. Can’t you be a normal salaryman and be happy that you have a break from all the things I make you do?”

“I told you, Miss Emma. I just want to make myself useful.”

“And I told you that you're the least useful in your current state. So give. It. A. Rest,” she threatened, putting emphasis on every syllable.

But behind her intimidating façade was someone who actually cared for him. The details were still a bit muddled in Wonwoo's head, but he remembered being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Remembered how Emma never let go of his hand as they made the trip all the way. And how he heard her pray for him to make it out alive despite being a well-known agnostic.

Once their conversation had mellowed down, he laid back against the steady elevation of his bed, watching the scenic city lights glimmer outside the window of his hospital room—just behind the woman who made his life a lot more interesting.

He couldn’t wait to be useful to her again.

“I hate this. I fucking hate this so much.”

Wonwoo spared his employer a quick glance as she practically glared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. He’d been browsing through a sports car catalog tucked underneath the hotel’s coffee table, but watching Emma have a furious meltdown about her wedding was more worth his time.

“You're the one who said that there'll more benefits if you accepted the marriage proposal,” her secretary reminded, crossing his legs as he leaned back on the couch he was sitting on. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course I was just…gaslighting myself about this entire fucked up situation!” Emma growled as she stomped over to him with a scowl. “Can’t fucking believe my dad agreed to marry me off just like that, too. After all his talk that I needed to love whoever I'm supposed to marry...”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Anyone can be blinded by money—especially if it's from the Chois.”

“Even you?”

It’s a question that sunk into the room with a rhetorical implication. Emma was quick to exchange the earrings her stylist chose for her with something more suited to her taste—a pair that didn’t sparkle all that much but was worth more than six months of Wonwoo's salary. In her reflection on the vanity mirror, he could clearly see the way her red lips parted in concentration as she clipped the earrings in place.

“No,” Wonwoo responded even if he knew she wasn’t looking for an answer. “I’m more easily blinded by other things, ma’am.”

Emma glanced behind her with a puzzled look, not getting his drift. “Like what?”

Wonwoo didn’t dare think twice.

He got up from his once comfortable position on the couch, closing the distance that sat between him and Emma in long, calculated strides. She didn’t seem fazed by his sudden need to walk over, but the moment Wonwoo was behind her, she stiffened when he reached a hand in front of her face. Then, with a firm yet featherlight touch, her secretary wiped off the lipstick that stained past her lip line with his fingers—not once breaking eye contact with her in the mirror.

“It wouldn’t be fun if I told you, now would it?” He smiled before pulling his hand back. “I need to keep you on your toes sometimes, too, Miss Emma.”

He half-expected her to scoff and brush off his attempt at being smart with her. Emma was a no-nonsense kind of person, and with the wedding happening soon, Wonwoo understood why she’d be more high-strung than usual.

But instead of acting the way she always did with him, Emma took Wonwoo by surprise when she fisted his silken necktie in her manicured nails, tugging him down so that their eyes were leveled with each other. Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to wrestle Wonwoo into complete submission, but this was his boss they were talking about.

There’s a glint in those sharp eyes of hers that had his heart beating off the charts. This wasn’t the gaze of someone entitled the Ice Queen of their office. No, there’s something warm in there—borderline sensual. And before Wonwoo could even hope to figure out what it was, Emma was already closing her eyes and sealing their lips together like some unspoken pact.

It’s an inconsequential kiss. Wonwoo has made out with both men and women alike—all desperate gasps and lust-fueled passion—but somehow, none of those experiences could hold a candle to the way Emma Rodriguez pecked his lips for a fraction of a second before pulling away.

“You're getting more and more insufferable,” she muttered, resting her forehead against his. “You were never this cheeky before. What happened?”

You, he wanted to tell her. You happened.

At that point, Wonwoo's brain was merely operating on carnal instinct alone. He lunged forward to capture her lips again, making her gasp in surprise as he snaked a strong arm around her waist. Thank fucking god Emma’s wedding dress had a simple design—no pretentious frills to obstruct his movements.

Despite the fact that this woman—his boss—was getting married in less than two hours, Wonwoo couldn’t even give a damn. He swiped all the makeup boxes and accessories off the vanity table, propping Emma up on the horizontal surface as he kissed her until she saw stars.

“Wonwoo,” she sighed against his lips, thighs inching apart as he bunched the long hem of her gown up to her waist. He wondered distantly if Emma was going to ask him to stop—to see reason. But the glazed look in her eyes told him otherwise.

“More.”

Wonwoo wanted nothing more than to give her more. He’d do everything she could ever dream of asking him. Never mind the fact that it was more than a little messed up for him to consider fucking his boss right before she’s married off to the man who tormented her endlessly at sixteen.

Nobody else mattered—not Leo, not the director, not even Emma’s intricate revenge plot that was years in the making. At that moment, only the two of them existed, only separated by a few layers of clothing before they could finally become one.

But Wonwoo was abruptly reminded why he always chose reason before ambition long before he met Emma. Dreams and delusions were bound to end when you least expected them to. Reality, on the other hand, would always remind you of life’s harshest truths.

“Miss Emma?” They both could hear the voice of Leo's personal assistant outside the door to the hotel room, preceded by a few short knocks. “It’s time for your prenup shoot. Director Rodriguez is also looking for Sir Wonwoo. Is he in there with you?”

Whatever dream the two of them have fabricated only minutes ago had been erased from existence—all that was left was a bride-to-be with her dress ruffled in all the wrong places, and a pitiful secretary with red lipstick stains adorning his face.

“Yeah, he’s here with me,” Emma yelled over to the doorway, eyes refusing to part from Wonwoo's. “We’ll be down soon. Thanks, Christina.”

“Okay, ma’am. I'll just wait for you in the lobby.”

Wonwoo counted to ten before peeling himself away from Emma, quickly striding towards the bathroom to get some tissues both for himself and his employer. But while he was wiping off the lipstick on the corners of his mouth, Wonwoo immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere.

Emma was already busy straightening herself out—smoothing down the creases in her gown and retouching her makeup as best as she could without her stylists. Wonwoo wouldn’t have minded the silence, it’s exactly the kind of setting he preferred working in.

But just when he thought he’d managed to melt the Ice Queen’s heart over the past year, she turned arctic cold all over again.

“After the wedding, tell my driver to accompany me to Leo's penthouse. Though I despise the idea, we have to go home together to keep up the act for everyone to see.” She gave her orders the same way she used to tell Wonwoo to sort the company’s financial reports—straight to business with little room for playing around. “Other than that, I don't have any more orders. You can rest easy for the day, Wonwoo.”

He felt like he should say something to address what just happened between them five minutes ago. To ask why she was pretending as if they weren’t breathing each other in like all the oxygen on the planet had gone in a flash. But Wonwoo wasn’t some desperate fool that overestimated his place in Emma’s life.

“Duly noted, ma’am,” he muttered with the same degree of aloofness she’d just given him before tossing the soiled tissues in the trash. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Emma didn’t even break face as Wonwoo's footsteps resounded on the carpeted floor. She didn’t even spare him a second glance. But then again…

He was her secretary, and she was his employer.

That was all there was to it.

Much to Wonwoo's surprise, Leo's case was closed much sooner than he thought it would be.

Before Emma could even make it to the cathedral, the commotion had already started. Wonwoo had arrived earlier in the venue with Emma’s father, the director of PLEDIS Insurance, and were just about to take their seats among the other principal sponsors when the television screens mounted all over the church suddenly started playing a video.

A video that Wonwoo has already seen before.

He didn’t have to glance at Leo to know that he was sporting the most horrified look he could muster upon seeing one of your many sex scandals having an impromptu screening at the cathedral. Collective gasps and disgusted remarks were heard in a chorus of murmurs that reached all the way up to the high ceilings.

Wonwoo could hear Leo's assistant, Christina—who turned out to be part of the sex parties her boss secretly indulged in—barking orders for the church staff to cut the feed. But it was too late. Those who needed to see the truth have already gotten their fill.

Recognizing that his daughter couldn’t possibly be wed to a man with a reputation that’s been tarnished in a church, of all places, Director Rodriguez ordered Wonwoo to contact the bridal car driver and tell him to send Emma straight home instead. It’s a job that Wonwoo got done fairly quickly, and despite the numerous text messages that Emma sent him demanding answers about what happened, he didn’t respond to any of them right away.

After a few hours of digging around, Wonwoo eventually found out that one of Leo's cousins was behind the public exposé. Apparently, said cousin was able to obtain the same footage that Emma acquired and was able to sabotage Leo's attempt at seizing their family riches before Emma could even put her plans into motion.

Well, at least someone else already did the dirty work for them.

As usual, Wonwoo collated all the information he’s gathered in a concise email. This was how he kept Emma up to speed about their progress—through self-destructing emails. He informed her about the involvement of Leo's cousin and how the trash had taken itself out, ensuring that Leo Choi had fallen from the false pedestal he’s clung onto for years.

Their behind-the-scenes mission has been fulfilled.

While he didn’t expect Emma to respond enthusiastically, receiving radio silence in return wasn’t something Wonwoo had anticipated either. But he opted not to read into it much. She must’ve been royally pissed that Leo's demise wasn’t brought about by her own hand, and Wonwoo respected that.

The following Monday after the canceled wedding, however, he ended up finding out the reason behind her silence.

“Boss,” sobbed Seokmin when Wonwoo timed in at the office. “Please don't leave!”

Immediately backing him up was Soonyoung, who didn’t hesitate to hug Wonwoo, even giving him a few pats on the shoulder as if they were old drinking buddies. “It's okay, Sir Wonwoo. You've been here long enough. Maybe it's about time you found your path elsewhere.”

…Huh?

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo voiced out his confusion. “You’re speaking like I got fired.”

As if on cue, the third member of their trio walked in on the conversation as he sipped on his usual iced americano. Seungkwan stared at Wonwoo with a puzzled expression before saying:

“But weren't you fired, sir? Miss Emma announced it this morning, but I think she left right away after, too.”

Not privy to the way the pieces started to click in his head, Seokmin and Soonyoung kept consoling Wonwoo as he made his way to his (old) cubicle. Emma had been one step ahead too—someone already having packed away most of his belongings in storage boxes. Not to mention the notice of contract termination sitting on his desk. Effective immediately, it says.

“I really don't get it though” Seungkwan droned behind him. “You? The best secretary in the city? Fired just like that?”

Seokmin nodded. “I don't understand it either. You two were business-as-usual after the wedding. Miss Emma must've been so pissed that she didn't get married that she laid off the boss here.”

“True,” Soonyoung agreed with a snicker. “Boss, maybe Miss Emma's just being unreasonable. I bet she'll be begging for you to come back in a few days' time.”

Yeah. That’s what the situation would seem like to an outsider. But Wonwoo knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t bluffing about this. She fired him for a reason that’s been stewing for more than a decade. Even if Gavin, Ezra, and Leo have had their taste of justice, Emma’s revenge plot wasn’t finished like Wonwoo thought it was.

Because Wonwoo was one of her targets all along, too.

I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.

“Where is she?”

Seungkwan perked up. “Uh, maybe she went home? She told us something about feeling a bit under the weather?”

Seokmin nodded. “She's probably in her penthouse or something. If i were you, I'd start making it up to her.”

“Hey, you're talking like they're actually dating,” Soonyoung scolded with a laugh.

Not even bothering to thank them, Wonwoo turned on his heel and made a beeline for the office entrance—dead set on doing exactly what Seokmin jokingly suggested.

This is why I'm making it up to you, he mused with an exasperated air as he buckled up in his car.

Can’t you just let me in?

Emma spent her first Monday after the entire wedding disaster with Leo holed up in her unit—stuffing herself full of ice cream. The only reason she bothered going to the office today was to formally announce that her secretary Wonwoo Jeon was fired—just like she’d been planning since the moment she met him again as her secretary after all these goddamn years.

Her high school bullies have been put in their place. Her fifteen-year revenge plot was finally over.

But why did she feel so fucking depressed about it?

She sighed pitifully when she realized she’d already emptied her tub of double dutch ice cream, finally deigning to get up from the couch to deposit it in the kitchen for later disposal. But just when she was about to continue moping in her living room, the doorbell to her unit buzzed from the entrance, making her glance that way curiously.

It could be her next-door neighbor. A kind, elderly woman who lived with her daughter. She borrowed Emma’s rosemary spices yesterday—something that she barely used because she often opted to go for food deliveries instead of whipping up her own meals.

With that reasoning in mind, she didn’t bother checking who was at the door through the peephole. She simply undid the locks before opening the door—only to come face-to-face with—

“Hey,” Wonwoo sighed as he jammed his foot between the door and the doorframe. “Ma’am, please talk to me first. Did you think I wouldn't catch onto what you were trying to do?”

“Why do I have to explain myself to you? You’re fired, right?” Emma growled as she pushed the door with her back, but sadly, Wonwoo easily overpowered her. At least he was decent enough to not let himself in—he simply lingered out in the hallway with a placid look on his face. “What?”

“Emma,” her ex-secretary addressed her for the first time without any formalities. “If you fired me as vengeance for not helping you all those years ago, I get it. I deserve it, even. But after what happened sa hotel…

“You can’t convince me there’s nothing between us anymore.”

Her breath hitched, face growing warm at the reminder of that intimate moment they shared hours before she was supposed to get married. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still feel Wonwoo's mouth on hers. But that wasn’t a thought that was healthy to entertain at the moment.

“What are you saying? That was all part of the plan, you know?” She bluffed with a mirthless laugh, fully turning to face him as she crossed her arms. “Make you smitten enough with me to let your guard down. Look, you didn't expect me to fire you, did you?”

“No, but you can’t fool me, Emma,” Wonwoo chuckled with a self-satisfied smirk. “You wanted me too—that was real. If I’m mistaken, then make me leave. Call security on me. If I’m the nuisance you so desperately want me to be, then get rid of me here and now.”

The silence was thick between them. Emma was practically shaking with frustration as Wonwoo stared down at her with that overconfident look on his face. She wanted nothing but to punch him, hit him, slap him—

Kiss him.

Maybe Wonwoo was right. Maybe Emma did want him more than she led herself to believe.

Because why the hell did she fist the front of Wonwoo's work shirt before pulling him inside her penthouse? Why did she slam him against the door, earning a sexy groan from him as she crushed their lips together?

Was this a healthy way to deal with your current predicament? No—definitely not. But it felt too fucking good to pass up on.

Wonwoo, however, was all too quick to regain control—hooking one of Emma’s thighs around his waist as she gasped into his mouth. She could practically feel him smirk against her lips, and though she’s loath to admit, it only made her want him even more.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled before peppering her neck with love bites. “You might need to kill me first before I stop pursuing you.”

Emma spared him a breathless laugh that quickly melted into a moan when Wonwoo's hand found itself inside her oversized sleep shirt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were obsessed with me, Jeon.”

His fingers were warm against her skin, and Emma couldn’t help the full-on shudder that racked her body when Wonwoo grazed her bare nipples. The smile on his face was wicked—dangerous, even.

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, his breath fanning against her flushed face.

“What would you do if I was obsessed with you, Ma’am?”

Emma was well aware that Wonwoo knew the answer to his own question. It was obvious in the way he quickly picked her up from the floor, fully wrapping both her legs around his waist as he carried her towards her bedroom. But despite the carnal urgency in his grip, Wonwoo was awfully gentle as he laid her down on the mattress.

“Last chance to kick me out,” he murmured against her ear as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “You could exact your revenge on me even better, ‘no? I’m giving you the leeway to frame me for forced entry…among other things.”

God. She knew Wonwoo was a little crazy when he accepted Emma’s orders to help her make his old best friends suffer. But the way he looked at her with such crazed desire further confirmed her suspicions.

And she didn’t want her men any other way.

“Fuck me, Wonwoo,” she told him clearly before stripping her own clothes and laying herself bare for him to feast on—eyes lidded, desiring him just as much as he did her. “That’s an order.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, and Emma had to force herself not to drool over his perfectly built torso. If she had more patience, she would’ve taken her time worshiping every inch of Wonwoo's body, but he’d already set a fire in the pit of her stomach. One that she fully expected him to deal with sooner than later.

“So wet for me,” he observed with a lopsided smirk, pressing their foreheads together as he lathered his fingers with her slick. “Have you always wanted me this way? Do you touch yourself to the thought of me, Miss Emma?”

Yes. Fuck, yes.

“That’s none of your business, Jeon,” Emma stubbornly insisted, keeping herself from moaning when his lips descended onto one of her hardened nipples.

Wonwoo made good on the opportunity, using the fingers he’d used to feel up her slick cunt to rub her essence across the other bud he wasn’t suckling on. The effect was near immediate—Emma throwing her head back with a pretty little whimper as Wonwoo started to massage her breasts.

Fuck. He’d always dreamed of getting to smother his face between them.

“Wonwoo,” she gasped out loud, hips bucking desperately when he bit down on her sensitive flesh. “F-Fuck me. Now.”

“Demanding.” He pulled away from her sensitive nipples with a pop, staring up at her with a lustful gaze. “You enjoy ordering me around too much, you know?”

“You enjoy being ordered around, too,” Emma pointed out with a scoff, trying her best not to moan too loudly when Wonwoo's fingers started to toy with her leaking cunt again. “Just—I need you. Please.”

Ah, he never thought the day would come when he’d hear Emma Rodriguez begging for his cock.

“Okay, Ice Queen,” he relented with a playful laugh, kicking his underwear and trousers off as he pumped his already hard length. “Since you're so eager for me to fuck you, I’m not going to prep you anymore. You better not cry when my cock splits you open, okay?”

Hearing him talk so lewdly to her made her pussy gush with excitement. What’s more was that, not only was her secretary blessed with a face and body that gods would covet, but his cock was something she was afraid she’d keep looking for even when he was done with her.

He was awfully careful when he first pushed inside of her, sharp eyes riveted on her face as it twisted with both pain and pleasure alike. His size was something that one needed getting used to, and he wasn’t about to make his first time with Emma uncomfortable for her.

No, he wanted her to keep thinking about him even after they’ve had their fill of each other.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he rasped against her neck, licking a long stripe along the column of her throat to make her shiver. “Too bad you already fired me. I always wondered what it would feel like to bend you over and fuck you in your office.”

He could feel her pussy squeeze his cock even tighter at the shameless image she put in her head, making Wonwoo smirk with pride as he started to move. Emma mewled his name, grabbing his face as he chased his lips. He was all too willing to give her what she wanted, meeting her with an open-mouthed kiss as their tongues clashed together in time with his thrusts.

“W-Wonwoo,” she moaned into his mouth, hips eagerly meeting his. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper.”

And fuck her deeper, he did—Emma’s got him wrapped around her pretty manicured fingers, after all.

Wonwoo was relentless with the way he pounded her into the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing much too loudly in his ears. But he didn’t fucking care. The feel of Emma’s velvet pussy walls pulsing around his cock sent his mind into a frenzy—fucking her until the bedframe creaked, until Emma was begging him to give her more, more, more—

All of a sudden, she gasped, “Coming, coming—!”

If being inside her was life-changing, feeling her cum around his cock sent Wonwoo straight to heaven. Her cunt spasmed deliciously as Wonwoo helped her ride out her high—lips locked together as they breathed each other in.

“Cum inside me,” she murmured deliriously into his mouth, practically rubbing her breasts—sensitive and littered with all the marks Wonwoo left on them—against his toned chest. “Make me yours, Jeon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

“God, I love you,” he sighed a little mindlessly, and those carelessly uttered words made Emma’s eyes widen with surprise before losing herself to the feeling of delirium.

Wonwoo spilled his load inside her quivering cunt with a long-winded moan, feeling like he’d been shot through the head and was experiencing a level of euphoria that bordered on illegal. Emma moaned at the feel of his warm cum filling her to the brim, bringing him down for another sloppy kiss as the heat of the moment started to dissipate in the quiet atmosphere of their bedroom.

As their breaths started to settle, Emma was the first to glance at him—to meet his eyes. Wonwoo couldn’t find any trace of the arctic cold Ice Queen that practically told him to scram the other day at the hotel.

No, it was just Emma.

His Emma.

“Can I still take back my verdict?” she muttered softly, inching closer to bury her face in his chest. Wonwoo instinctively pulled her in for a tender embrace, kissing the crown of her head with a smile.

“You mean the contract termination?” Wonwoo chuckled. “Take it up to HR, Miss Emma. I’m just a lowly secretary.”

All of a sudden, Emma rolled over so that she was seated upright on the bed. Wonwoo had to keep himself from groaning at the sight of her—hair disheveled and body sporting all his marks. Seeing her freshly fucked by him was doing things to his libido.

“You’re not just my secretary, Wonwoo,” she sighed, twiddling with her fingers awkwardly. “I…I wasn’t going to fire you anymore. I got used to your company. I…

“I fell in love with you.”

The words floated between them like a cloud that couldn’t easily be swept up by the wind. Wonwoo offered her a comforting smile before pulling her into a firm kiss.

“Yet you fired me anyway,” he pointed out with a laugh. “Why? You couldn’t deal with the fact that you fell in love with one of your high school bullies?”

That earned him a punch in the shoulder. “You’re not one of them. You’re different.”

“And you’re in love with me too, no? You said it yourself. Since when?”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo then pressed a soft, featherlight kiss on her nose—one that had Emma’s heart fluttering like she was a schoolgirl.

Gosh, this man. He’s fifteen years too late.

“Maybe I’ve always been a little in love with you. Who knows?” Wonwoo spared her a Cheshire cat smile. “There’s more where that came from though.”

Emma punched him in the chest this time—a bit too close to the spot where he broke a few ribs months prior. But he didn’t care.

She could send him to hell and back and he’d do it for her in a heartbeat.

From: Wonwoo Jeon

Subject: NOT-SO CLASSIFIED

Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well.

I heard that you dealt with quite a stressful client today. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t here to help you with the matter as I was given tasks to do elsewhere. In order to make up for this lapse on my part, I am cordially inviting you to dinner at 7PM tonight after work.

Rest assured, the expenses shall be shouldered by me and your only job is to sit and look gorgeous as I wine and dine you for the evening. Sincerely hoping for your most favorable response.

Regards,

Wonwoo Jeon

Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department

PLEDIS Insurance

Your boyfriend :)

end notes: this wasnt thoroughly proofread so if you spot some strange errors (aka sentences in a different language bc this fic was partly in filipino) here and there, pretend you didn't see em! as always, ur feedback means everything to me so scream in the tags or my ask as much as you want ^__^

#svthub #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #lovelyhan #full-length fic 📚#wonwoo x oc #wonwoo x reader

1K notes · View notes

dfortrafalgar · 2 months

Text

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 14

[Prev] [Next]

You were visibly shaking in the passenger seat of Law’s car, his hand on your bare thigh as he drove in his attempt to stabilize you without taking his eyes off the road in front of him. The windows were cracked open to prevent you from overheating in your anxious state, your heart hammering in excess as your palms perspired so rapidly you could feel the skin of your thighs grow damp under your hands. The higher-than-average heat of the early summer season, however, did little to cool down your nerves. Not even your shorts and tank top could help.

“Baby, breathe,” Law cooed, keeping his golden eyes trained on the road as he slowed to a stop at a red light. The car traveling next to him sped through the traffic signal, making him utter a low tsk.

“I know… I know…” you heaved, taking conscious efforts to inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. “I’m just nervous,” you justified.

Law tossed you an understanding smile before placing his eyes back on the traffic light ahead of his car. “I know you are, and that’s okay. I’m nervous, too. But I don’t want to have to carry you into the clinic because you passed out on the way.” He punctuated his sentence with a mischievous, yet still light-hearted, pat on your thigh. The sensation made you tense up, sputtering out a laugh. You gripped his hand in your own, intertwining his fingers through your own and giving his calloused hand a firm squeeze that he reciprocated in kind. The two of you resumed your drive in silence, listening to nothing but the sounds of the road around you.

You refocused your breathing techniques as the sight of your gynecologist’s clinic came into view, tucked away in the back of a sprawling medical plaza comprising many different buildings and specialties. Law expertly backed his car into a parking spot (that show-off…) and turned off the ignition, pulling his keys out and stuffing them into the pocket of his baggy cargo shorts. You shouldered your bag and pushed open the door, meeting your husband around the car and once again grabbing his hand. Your eyes stayed glued to the door approaching you as if you were no longer in charge of your own muscles. Law might as well have been walking for you.

“Hey,” a delicate whisper met your eardrums. “I’m right here, baby. Look at me.”

Your steps stopped short as you tossed a worried look at his face. You were nervously biting the inside of your lower lip.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he affirmed. “I’m right here. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

“Alright…” you choked out, sucking in another breath and pulling him closer by his hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” If you weren’t mere feet away from the entrance to a public doctor’s office on a busy weekday afternoon, he would’ve pulled you into his chest to envelop you in one of his earth-shattering hugs, the embraces that made you feel so small and yet so secure, washing away all of your worries and troubles with one intimate movement. But alas, he was never a huge fan of public affection. Especially not when there was a potential for colleagues to see him.

Checking in for your appointment went by in a blur. Your insurance card and identification card were handed over, your information taken, and you were instructed to have a seat in the waiting area and wait for your name to be called. The second you took your seat on the cold, faux leather chair, your foot started bouncing uneasily. Law couldn’t even blame you anymore. At your last seven week ultrasound, you found out the embryo was nonviable, and now you had to do it again.

Off to your side in the corner of the room sat a young mother visibly pregnant, scrolling idly through her phone with her bag on her lap. A toddler sat playing with a quiet toy at her feet, keeping himself company while he patiently waited for his mom. Law was on your opposite side, so you couldn’t see the way he was also eyeing her in the same way you were.

The woman tossed a glance at you two, making you quickly avert your gazes.

Now it was Law’s turn to anxiously rub his hands against the fabric of his pants, drying off the nervous sweat that started appearing. The sight gave you a sarcastic chuckle.

“Now you’re nervous?” you asked, leaning over the short armrest to bump his shoulder with your own. You teasingly copied his words from earlier in the car. “Breathe, baby.”

He stifled a quiet laugh, throwing a smirk your way. “Guilty.”

You had lost track of time. The young mother was called many minutes before you, bringing her son along with her, leaving you and Law alone in the waiting room to continue anticipating your name to be called. The quiet radio playing over the loudspeakers was broadcasting generic, braindead pop music, but it was enough to fill your mind with something other than sheer anxiety. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Law’s heel involuntarily started tapping to the beat of the music, making you smile to yourself.

“Mrs. Trafalgar?” a nurse called from an open door leading to the rest of the clinic area. You and Law both jumped, startled out of your fleeting moment of miniscule peace, quickly standing to follow her into the long hallway that led you to the all-too-familiar ultrasound room.

The process repeated again. Blood pressure, oxygen, heart rate, typical wellness checks, until the nurse silently jotted a few notes on her clipboard and left you to, once again, wait impatiently on the table, swinging your legs back and forth while Law sat across from you in a chair. The ultrasound machine, sleeping and idle, was looming ominously next to your bed, igniting your nerves once more and causing your hands to tremble.

“Want me to sit next to you?” Law asked, casting you an apologetic smile.

You shook your head, giggling anxiously. “No, that’d be too awkward.”

Law crossed one leg over the other in his chair. “Even though I’m your darling husband?”

“That only gives you a few extra bonus points,” you uttered, a grin crawling to your lips.

Your banter was cut short with the sharp knock on the examination room’s door, the familiar face of Robin welcoming herself in with a warm smile. She was trailed by an ultrasound technician, thankfully different than the one who performed your first exam, and a medical student, who kept her eyes lowered to the floor nervously.

“I hope you don’t mind that we have a student joining us today, she’s on her radiology rotation and we thought it would be nice for her to experience some live practice,” Robin explained as she stepped to the side to allow the technician to prepare the machine.

You tossed Law a nervous glance across the room. He offered you a kind smile, leaving the decision entirely up to you and your own comfort. Memories of his own medical school rotations while you were still dating flooded your mind, Law welcoming himself into your tiny single apartment after a stressful day to complain about the repulsive things he was forced to witness, all while you laughed at him and rubbed his back with a light-hearted sympathy. This med student was in her own era of that same exact experience.

“Of course, that’s perfectly fine with me,” you agreed, nodding your head politely. Your response made both Robin and the technician smile as they helped you to lay down on the cold exam table, following the protocol of lifting your shirt to expose your bare abdomen.

The cold, sticky feeling of the gel was a sensation you didn’t think you’d ever get used to. It felt so foreign on your skin, like an icy zing that finally warmed with your body heat. You were staring at the small brown speckles on the tiled ceiling, your hands over your chest holding up your shirt below your breasts as the technician worked, quietly instructing the medical student on how to operate the machine and the best etiquette to use. Law was curiously leaning forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees, cupping his face in his hands as he watched the doctors work around you.

He wouldn’t let anyone but you see that he was beyond excited to finally experience an ultrasound with you, regardless of the outcome. He wanted to try his damn hardest to never miss these appointments ever again.

The whirring of the machine filled your ears and you closed your eyes as the wand was placed on your skin, gentle pressure against the soft flesh of your abdomen making you inhale a deep, nervous gulp of air. The technician continued explaining the details that appeared on the screen to the student, but her words were nothing but monotonous nothings to your anxiety-ridden brain. Your heartbeat was erratic with fear at what they would see, your attempts to steady your breathing feeling futile.

“This open space here is the inside of the uterus,” the technician explained, carefully moving the wand around your body. The image was constantly warping with each small motion of the wand, mapping the insides of your being in a barely comprehensible image. “This small blotch here is the implanted embryo, it's only about the size of a single coffee bean, but the ultrasound makes it appear much larger. That’s how we’re able to make out small details.”

Robin kept her eyes trained on the screen. “Do you see that?”

Your eyes remained glued shut.

The shy voice of the student piped up. “That flickering?”

“Yes. That’s the baby’s heartbeat.”

Law stood from his chair so abruptly that the piece of furniture squeaked across the tiled floor and startled the technician, the wand darting across your body and making you jump yourself, your eyes flying open and your head darting to the side in the direction of the screen. The medical student backed away to make room for Law who frantically approached your side to get a look at the ultrasound, your own eyes squinting at the screen as the technician focused the wand back onto your uterus. She carefully held the instrument in place so Robin could get a formative glimpse at the screen, moving just enough so that Law could stand directly at your side.

“There,” your doctor stated, placing her index finger over the small blotch against the wall of your uterus. “If you look very closely, there’s a flickering motion inside the embryo.”

You and Law both peered intensely at the screen. Your breath hitched when your eyes finally picked up on the movement Robin was mentioning. A very faint, barely noticeable yet rapidly moving flicker of light was present, making your fingers clench around the fabric of your shirt. Law’s tattooed hand darted downward to grasp your bicep on the table. He was also sweating profusely.

“Is that really…?” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, your voice flooded with disbelief as you gazed at the screen, absorbing the flickering image of the fetus in your body teeming with early life.

Law remained speechless. He couldn’t tear his golden eyes away from the monitor, hyper fixated on the movement inside your uterus. All medical aspects of childrearing and reproduction were beyond his realm of expertise, all the information he knew coming from his mind-numbing undergraduate classes and his personal hell of a gynecology rotation during his time in medical school. But now, having been able to share not only this experience with you, but having seen first-hand just how strong you were to have wanted to try this again after the first failure, he felt his heart swelling with pride and adoration for you, his wife.

“Law?” you called, finally tearing your husband’s eyes away from the monitor screen. Small, sympathetic giggles from the technician and student followed your soothing voice as you brought your husband back to reality.

“Sorry, sorry,” he meekly backed away from the monitor, releasing his death grip on your bicep and leaving red marks behind where his fingers were held against your skin. You smiled as you watched him, his tan cheeks dusted with an embarrassed crimson blush as he eyed your face, your hands, your abdomen where the wand was pressed against your belly.

You allowed the medical student to clean you, feeling happy that you were able to share your positive experience with her and giving her a good story to tell to her friends or family (in sharp contrast to the stories you heard from your beloved then-boyfriend), and as soon as they were finished and you were sat upright, you and your husband were left in the room alone with Robin. The black-haired woman was scribbling some notes onto a clipboard before closing her laptop and placing her board on top of the device.

“I scheduled you for another ultrasound in about 5 weeks just to make sure everything continues to develop smoothly. Typically we wouldn’t do another ultrasound until around 18 weeks, but considering your history I want to be thorough,” she explained, holding patient eye contact with you as you nervously clutched your hands in your lap. “If anything changes, or you start to experience worrying symptoms, call us immediately. I’m sure you already know that, though.” She flashed an understanding smile at you, making your own lips turn upward.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Robin,” you breathed, not even registering how long you had been holding your breath.

Your goodbyes were exchanged, your next appointment confirmed at the front desk, and you and Law were back in the parking lot walking back to his car, and in hand. When he approached the front of his vehicle, however, he tugged you closer to him to lead you around the back of the car and to the curb of the parking lot, seating you on the concrete concealed behind his trunk.

“Law, what are you–” Your words were cut off as Law sat on the grassy curb beside you, pulling your face against his for a kiss that took your breath away. This was very much not like him, maybe in his more rebellious and daring undergraduate days, but certainly not during his prolific professional life. Not that you could complain as your arms instinctively draped across his shoulders, pulling your husband closer to you as his lips molded against yours. The ground below your bodies was warm from the sunshine, a very small coverage of shade from nearby trees doing little to keep your skin cool amongst the sultry exchange of lips. Law’s arms gripped your waist, almost pulling you fully into his lap as your fingers teased the thin baby hairs against the nape of his neck, making him smile into your mouth as you kissed.

You finally pulled away from him, laughing as you did so, flashing him a bright, toothy smile that reached your eyes. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that about?”

Law uttered an embarrassed chuckle, but his hold on your body didn’t relent. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself… I’m just…”

Your eyes analyzed every small movement of your husband’s face, the way his eyebrows were turned upwards in an apologetic display, the way his irises darted from side to side, too embarrassed to meet your own, the way his lips were parted and glistening from your heartstopping kiss. You dipped your head into his neck, ignoring the way the summer heat caused sweat to stick to his skin, giving him all the time in the world to say what he wished without the pressure of your loving gaze.

His voice was a fleeting whisper. “I’m just really, really proud of you.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

107 notes · View notes

ashleywool · 2 months

Text

"I LOVED THAT SHOW"

I wore my How to Dance in Ohio hoodie to church today. It's Palm Sunday and we did our customary palm procession from Duffy Square into the building, which is nice and all except winter decided to come back and bite my skin off again...so that sweatshirt seemed like the best choice as warm enough for the weather + can fit under my choir robe + won't get swelteringly uncomfortable once we're inside at the service. It did the job. Truly the ultimate transition piece. Get yours today while supplies last.

At fellowship afterwards, someone from the congregation that I didn't know--she's only in NYC part of the year--pointed out my sweatshirt and said "I LOVED THAT SHOW!"

It took her a moment to recognize me (she initially confused me for Madison, which, yeah that happens, I'll never be mad about it), and we had a lovely chat about the show. And what I noticed after walking away was...the subject of autism, or me being autistic, didn't come up at all.

I love and cherish the advocacy aspect of my work on HTDIO. I love and cherish the opportunity it gave me to be the autistic representation I wished I'd had growing up. But I have to say, it was SO nice to have someone, a total stranger, talking about the show and loving the show independent of The Autism Part.

It was wonderful being part of discussions about diverse representation, and I will never turn down opportunities to eagerly participate in those conversations. But I really wanted us to stick around long enough that the "novelty" aspect of "autistic characters played by autistic actors" (or even "canonically nonbinary/genderqueer characters") would wear off sufficiently for more people, so they could focus on the story and the characters and the music and all the other things that make our show great irrespective of the Representation aspect.

I've had a ROUGH few weeks, y'all. Truthfully, I've been going through one of the worst depressive episodes of my life. Aside from the obvious grief factor and logistical stressors, it turns out that post-operative depression is absolutely a thing. While I'd like to think I'm cognitively and emotionally mature enough to handle this level of change, especially considering how lucky I am to have robust support systems in family, friends, and healthcare practitioners, my very autistic nervous system has had a difficult time letting the sympathetic part cooperate with the parasympathetic part. So I've been a ball of tension, exhaustion, and worst of all, that soul-sucking apathy where nothing seems enjoyable or interesting, but maybe it would be if I had the energy to be interested.

It's helped to find a great physical therapy clinic that is giving me comprehensive, multi-pronged care and NOT charging me copays (because apparently my insurance pays them excellently--thank you, Equity-League and Cigna). It's helped that I got back in touch with a therapist I had seen years ago on BetterHelp (she's since left the platform and honestly, GOOD FOR HER). It's helped that I have parents with the means to help me out financially--and, crucially, the means to keep me accountable without resorting to pressure and guilt-tripping. It's helped to still live in a city where financial assistance isn't excruciatingly hard to come by if all else fails (at least compared to other states). It's helped to have agents submitting me for tons of exciting projects, and having several cabarets and readings to look forward to in this time of transition. It's helped to have a really chill, supportive church community keeping me spiritually grounded without buying into the yt American evangelical toxicity. It's helped to have my cats.

But sometimes, what makes me the happiest of all, is hearing "I LOVED THAT SHOW!"

I'll never not be proud to be known for How to Dance in Ohio and everything we stood for. I'm proud that the love was real, and the quality of the material reflected and reverberated that love. I'm proud of the representation aspect, and I'm proud that it wasn't just about that. And people who saw it, saw all of that.

It's so comforting to know that we shared this show with enough people that it's going to continue to matter.

People aren't going to forget.

I love that for us.

By the way, it was too cold to really show it off, but this is the shirt I wore underneath the sweatshirt. :)

#how to dance in ohio #htdio #broadway #musical theatre #spectrum club 7 #htdio musical

17 notes · View notes

myemuisemo · 2 months

Text

There is so much characterization tucked into "The Statement of the Case" in the 2nd of Letters from Watson about The Sign of the Four. To marshal my thoughts at all, let's go by character, starting with my cinnamon roll Dr. Watson, then turning to Holmes and to Mary Morstan.

Watson

Watson's close observation of Miss Morstan demonstrates that he's capable of making deductions from observation. He deduces from the simplicity of her attire that she has limited means, and he has a good deal to say about how the character promised by her features and manner.

In an experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents, I have never looked upon a face which gave a clearer promise of a refined and sensitive nature.

This is a tiny bit amusing because all of Miss Morstan's actions suggest she has the orderly soul of someone who would have been an accountant in an era more supportive of women's careers. This woman keeps receipts. She may be nervous about bringing her concerns to the Great Detective, but she's not the slightest bit delicate.

Watson seems a bit pricked in the ego by Holmes' extensive knowledge of cigar ash, as he's touting his experience with women. That would be a monograph, indeed, something sold discreetly, in a corner of the bookshop behind a curtain. I'm going to guess that the third continent, after Europe and Asia, is Africa, both because the British did a good deal of colonial meddling there and because it makes Holmes suggestion of The Martyrdom of Man so much more apposite.

Holmes

The Martyrdom of Man turns out to be a progressive best seller about world history. Author Winwood Reade's perspective is to show the importance of Africa in the development of the world. This is entirely at odds with Victorian self-confidence about the white European and American missions of colonialism. Holmes is implying, deliberately or not, that Watson knows less about at least two continents than he thinks he does.

Reade's prose feels comparatively modern -- it has the sprightly feel of early 20th century writing rather than the long, turgid sentences of the 19th century. I've been distracted by reading bits of it, as while it's not how an historian would handle its topics today, it's an interesting read.

A side note on Winwood Reade is that he was open about being an atheist, so his book is also at odds with the popular idea of Divine Providence smiling about the endeavors of the British Empire. Contemporary audiences would surely have drawn some conclusions about Holmes' religious and political leanings.

The book recommendation is preceded by Holmes establishing that he's not a sentimentalist:

He smiled gently. “It is of the first importance,” he said, “not to allow your judgment to be biased by personal qualities. A client is to me a mere unit,—a factor in a problem. The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning. I assure you that the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little children for their insurance-money, and the most repellant man of my acquaintance is a philanthropist who has spent nearly a quarter of a million upon the London poor.”

My first reaction was "welp, he really is ace, isn't he?" On reflection, I think that reaction is both right and wrong. On the side of "right," there is no way that Holmes, as written, is a neurotypical allosexual heterosexual. Asexuality is not the only possible category for him, but it's a solid contender.

On the side of "wrong," what he's arguing for from "I assure you" on is simply not to judge a book by its cover. We're used to that as a moral. We're also accustomed to believing that "body language" and such can give clues to the person within. Heck, Holmes was just on about handwriting analysis. So there's a messy little tension here between two views that were common then as now: "outer aspects reveal the person's true nature" and "don't judge a book by its cover."

Mary Morstan

I like Mary Morstan a good deal, not least because she keeps receipts.

This image from the New York Public Library gives a sense of Mary's plain beige walking suit, though the feathers are far too big.

My first reaction to Mary Morstan's backstory was to check the publication date of Frances Hodgson Burnett's A Little Princess, because how many little girls were being left in boarding schools by their UK Army officer fathers who were serving in India?

Quite a few, it seems. It was standard practice to send children back to the UK to boarding school "for their health." That last euphemism raised my "what in the racist colonial claptrap" hackles, but there was a legit health concern -- malaria. Malaria is potentially deadly for anyone and worse for children, since a child who survived might have ruined health and intellectual development for life. It was not until 1897 that surgeon Ronald Ross established that malaria was transmitted by mosquitos. Miss Morstan was a child in India in the 1860s; she really would have been sent away for her own safety.

Meanwhile, although A Little Princess was published in 1905, it was expanded from a short story published in 1887. a few years before The Sign of the Four was written. That doesn't mean there's a connection: stories about a common situation and the fears arising from it are going to have similarities.

Miss Morstan's lack of English relatives did have me wondering if her mother was Indian, especially as her complexion lacks "beauty" (isn't translucently pale). Since she's blonde and light-eyed, presumably we're to assume that both parents were English or Scottish. (The genetics of eye color inheritance weren't established at all until 1907, but people obviously had folk beliefs about how much children looked like their parents, and in what ways, before that. Using today's knowledge, it seems possible that her mother had one English parent and one Indian parent, but who knows?).

At twenty-seven, she is "on the shelf" -- past the ordinary age of courtship and marriage. Her job as either a companion or a governess implies she brings no financial assets to a marriage beyond those mysterious pearls. Watson's musings that twenty-seven is "a sweet age" establishes both that he's head-over-heels for Miss Morstan and that he's enough a man of the world to prefer a woman "a little sobered by experience" to a blushing debutante.

So do the mysterious pearls mean we're going down a path superficially similar to Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone (1868), where a heroine inherits a mysterious gem from a British Army office relative? Rachel Verinder's uncle was a horrible person who came by his gem in the worst way; but Mary Morstan's father was a guard at a prison for political prisoners, which doesn't bode well for his connections. Mary has far too much good sense than to wear her pearls, though.

I do want my cinnamon roll Dr. Watson to get the girl.

#sherlock holmes #letters from watson #the sign of the four

15 notes · View notes

dollsonmain · 4 months

Text

I had a thought when I was waking up from my nap and it's that I'm tired of myself defaulting to bad faith when That Guy does or says something.

Even though a lot of those bad faith thoughts, I believe anyway, are founded based on past experiences, it shouldn't be my default, I think. That isn't a type of person I want to be, though I can't really explain that.

So, for example, my bad faith take on why That Guy makes a point of chaperoning on every field trip and being there for Son's after-school theater rehearsals is because there are tiny teenagers in leggings running around. I have proof of him being a creep toward teen-aged girls, but that doesn't mean that's why he's attending Son's rehearsals. Maybe he really does want to support Son's interest in theater class.

Or my bad faith take on him suddenly demanding I get insurance and a job (while getting in the way of me doing that) is that it's a situation where "My woman, who I expect to take care of me and be my replacement mother, now needs to be taken care of by me and it costs me a lot of my precious money, which she does not and never did deserve in the first place, and her being in debt can affect my job because I've been claiming financial responsibility for her on my income tax."

He did say that we've been operating in the red for a while right after those bills started coming in way higher than his uneducated guess of their expense would be.

He hasn't had a cost of living raise in years since before the pandemic, and our weekly food costs went up from about $80-$120/week to about $220/week (important to note that our "food" costs include household items like toilet paper, paper towels, soap, etc. we get our groceries and everything else all at once at Walmart) even though we buy less amount and less expensive food now than we did before the price-hikes.

I stopped buying toys and eat almost nothing other than rice and the occasional ramen noodle and frozen veg.

It's possible that he really can't afford it, or that he's just nervous because his numbers are going down instead of up for the first time in a long time as opposed to not wanting to take care of me because I got sick.

I worry that I'm, I don't think projecting is exactly the right word because I'm not putting my own actions on him, but seeing more bad in his intentions and actions than there really is.

From experience, though, it's warranted and that makes me question both my vitriolic thoughts regarding his intentions, and makes me question questioning it. With all this evidence, I should be certain, shouldn't I?

I am very confused, lately.

10 notes · View notes

jakethesequel · 10 months

Text

"Why should you qualify for disability benefits," he says, as I look back on the hours on hours I've had to take off of work for drawing blood, making doctor's appointments, being sick with complications; the opportunities, respect, even jobs I've lost when taking a break to treat low blood sugar was seen as laziness/unproductive because it isn't visually that scary even though I could pass out and die untreated, or because I've had a nervous breakdown or had to leave work due to running out of critical medical supplies earlier than expected and not knowing how I'm going to find a replacement. They don't even know how scary it is when your insurance is being flaky and you don't get paid for a week. It's not as bad as it is down south, but it's still enough to overdraw your credit card. Man. I'm tired.

15 notes · View notes

hiccanna-tidbits · 6 months

Text

@jackunzel-time

Jackunzel Month Week 2 - Coming of Age

***

"Okay, can I look now?"

"Not yet!"

The kitchen is once again filled with the sounds of Rapunzel banging around, plates and dishware clattering as she searches the fridge. Jack's got a sneaking suspicion this all has something to do with the huge, tinfoil-covered mound on the top shelf.

For an entire week, Rapunzel insisted they put every ounce of leftovers in the bottom half of the fridge, ignoring the Mysterious Object™️like a leaky faucet you handn't gotten around to fixing. Not that Rapunzel doesn't occasionally need her home fridge for work-related things, but she isn't normally cagey about it.

Jack once again resists the urge to peek out of the blindfold.

"Come ooooon, Zellie! This anticipation is going to kill me before our starving artist lifestyle does."

Rapunzel laughs. "Starving? I'll have you know, sir, that I've had no less than 5 whole french fries today!"

Considering it was 9 pm, this was not an ideal french fry quota. Rapunzel definitely had time to eat more fries today.

Jack wonders idly if Rapunzel's just getting too caught up in her work to take lunch breaks, or if her manager is crunching her deadlines again.

Before he can get too far into plotting how he would swap her boss's salt and sugar without getting Rapunzel in trouble, he hears the distinctive sound of a lighter.

"Are you torching our apartment?" he asks. "Because if so, I'm very offended I wasn't invited to participate."

Rapunzel scoffs. "Don't be silly! Like I'd set the place on fire without getting home insurance first. And it isn't as though either of us can afford that."

"You're still making me nervous. Usually I'm the one who plays the pranks."

"Hmmm, well...that would have been a good idea, actually." Rapunzel sounds a little regretful. "But no tricks today, I promise. Now open your eyes!"

And at last, Jack gets to see what all the fuss is about.

A stunning, snow-white cake sits in the middle of their dining room table, covered in sparkly silver candy orbs and carefully sculpted fondant snowflakes. All around the side are little hand-painted winter scenes, meticulously crafted by an icing brush in a process that must've taken hours. On top, a "2" and a "6" candle sit ablaze.

Rapunzel, of course, spends all day at work decorating cakes. It's her career. (Or, at least, it has been for the past 6 months--the longest she's gone without leaving a job to date.)

It still seems like she went the extra mile with this one.

"What--" For a long moment, all Jack can do is stare with his mouth hanging open.

"What the hell," he says finally. "How did I forget today was my birthday???"

Rapunzel's surprise quickly turns to laughter.

"Oh my god, how did you forget?"

Easy for her to say. Back when Rapunzel lived with her crazy mom, who practically kept her a prisoner in her own house, birthdays were easily the most interesting thing that happened all year. Birthdays with the Overlands were always much more...lowkey, so to speak.

"In my defense!" He holds up his hands. "Nothing interesting happens when you turn 26. Pretty much all the milestones are finished, so it's just another orbit around the sun."

"Nonsense!" Rapunzel sticks her lip out in disapproval. "That's no way to talk about your coming-of-age ceremony!"

"Coming-of-age?" He raises his eyebrows. "I think we missed the cutoff for that a while ago."

"Well, 26 is your age now." She crosses her arms, chin up defiantly. "And you have come to it. So therefore you have come of age."

He chuckles. "Is that how that works?"

"Why not? Teenagers and college kids shouldn't get to have all the fun!"

"My point still stands, though," he argues. "You don't really...unlock the same kind of stuff in your 20s that you do when you're younger. It's not like there are new magical adventures that you suddenly have access to when the clock strikes 12 on your 26th birthday."

"Says who?"

His girlfriend's conniving smirk sends a wave of excitement through him. What is she plotting?

"Did you find an elite 26-and-over club to join?"

"Not exactly." She leans over the table, smirk widening. "But someone did have a chat with your boss about how many great snowscape photo opportunities there are in the mountains, and how you're going to need to not come into the office for while to get all the best shots."

Jack's eyes widen as her meaning dawns on him. "And Mr. North was cool with that? Me taking a vacation right before the holidays?"

"I mean. He could hardly resist the offer of having his best photographer out getting festive snapshots for the December issue of the magazine. You'd do more good on the field than stuck behind an editing desk, right?"

"No kidding."

Jack sits down, getting ready to blow out the unexpected birthday candles. He pauses, something occurring to him.

"Wait, what about you? I'm not about to go off and leave you to handle the bakery's holiday rush on your own!"

Rapunzel hums thoughtfully.

"Well, funny thing. I told our head baker that I just hadn't been feeling very inspired lately. And if I went somewhere, say, fresh and exciting, then the muse was sure to strike again and I'd pump out a collection of the most beautiful winter cakes the bakery's ever known. Ones to really send that holiday profit flooding in."

"So...you snuck around and got us both a week off for my birthday by spinning it as a work trip? And on top of that, you just casually whipped out the most gorgeous birthday cake I've ever seen in my life?"

She nods, beaming.

"You're my goddamn hero."

He stands up and sweeps her into his arms, pulling her into a kiss worthy of being the Big Dramatic Finale to any coming-of-age film. All these years later, and it still feels like cameras should be spinning around them with rock music building into a triumphant crescendo.

Maybe that's cheesy, but to hell with it.

"Have I ever mentioned I'm in love with you?" he murmurs against her lips.

"I would hope so, Overland. We've been dating for 9 years now."

***

Half a hazelnut chocolate cake and two celebratory hot cocoas later, Jack finds himself being dragged toward the car in the encroaching darkness of 5:30 pm.

"Zel, what--"

"Come on! I booked us a night in a cabin, and we need to take off before the roads get icy. It's supposed to snow in a couple hours!"

"But what about--"

"I packed the car while you were at work." Rapunzel doesn't miss a beat. "Don't worry, I grabbed all your favorite sweaters! Your snowboarding stuff too. And the sleeping bags. And the cozy socks. And the snow chains. And the binoculars. And the sled. And the scarves."

He doesn't have time to form a reply before he's being bundled into the front seat and covered in one of his favorite fluffy blankets. The sheer amount of alpine field guides and brochures on the car floor make him do a double take.

"You have an itinerary?" he asks, surprised.

She hums uncertainly as she pulls out of the driveway.

"Well...nothing too rigid. No coming-of-age road trip of self-discovery can be that structured, or else it might get in the way of spontaneous epiphanies about who you truly are, right?"

"Right."

Rapunzel looks like she's about to burst open with what she isn't saying.

"I sense a 'but' there."

"I did find a really cute place for us to sled." The dam breaks as Rapunzel pulls out of the driveway. "And there's this secluded little mountain animal rescue we have to see. And this four-star cafe we can stop at for hot cider and soup, and this really pretty snowy hike that I don't think is too tiring. Also this ski and snowboard slope we can check out if we have time, with this really cozy lodge, and--"

She cuts herself off mid-sentence as soon as she picks up that all this might be a little overwhelming.

"Buuuuut," she amends slowly. "It's not like I've put down a deposit for anything. We could just drive through the mountains and stop whenever we feel the urge. Find the best secret spots and have them to ourselves, you know? Have deep conversations and be alone with nature and reconnect with our humanity and our sense of purpose. Or something like that."

He can't help but laugh at the way her brow scrunches as she goes deep into thought.

"That sounds great."

"Do you...have a preference?" She gives him a searching look as they pull onto the freeway, already glowing with streetlamps and taillights. "Agenda or no agenda?"

"Whatever you're down for, I'm down for. Hell, I'm just happy to have an unexpected week of vacation."

"I guess that's the thing about these types of 'finding yourself' stories. You kind of have to figure them out as you go along."

"Then let's do some figuring!"

Rapunzel hits the gas, and off they go into the winter sunset, bound for their next coming-of-age adventure. One to perhaps be followed by many more, depending on how many future ages they deem it significant to "come to."

***

Tfw you keep aging but The Blorbos™️do not, so the only logical solution is to force them to age with you XD God dammit, if I have to be in my mid-20s, then so do my comfort characters!!!

Fr tho, I often find myself wishing there were more aged-up AUs in the RotBTD fandom. Most fandom olds returning to (or who stayed in) the fandom aren't the teenagers we were when we first got into the big four anymore, so...why not let them grow up with us??? It's not like their canon ages are some sacred, set-in-stone thing that can't be changed since people do in fact get older as time passes ajdnlshbf

And like!!! Don't get me wrong, I love a well-done high school or college AU, and they can be a lot of fun!!! But I think as I've gotten older I wonder more about how the RotBTD kids would navigate adulthood, and how they would change/adapt and how they would stay the same throughout their lives.

Jackunzel I feel like would be one of those couples who would just be it for each other. Like they get together in late high school--probably junior or senior year--and everyone keeps waiting for the spark to die in college and for them to get stir-crazy (as people who get into committed relationships young often do) or bored of each other, and they just. Don't. MFs hit 30 and are still in the honeymoon phase with no sign of getting out XD

Rapunzel is so right here btw. Twenty-somethings DO deserve to have indie coming-of-age dramas made about them!!! Kids and teens and college students shouldn't get to have all the fun!!! Besides, there's plenty of growing/maturing still to do in young adulthood, so why stop writing stories about that just because the people in question are out of school??? Tbh I'm so tired of movies with adult protagonists being either fluffy (hetero) romcoms or a drama about Some Guy with a wife and kids like??? There are other types of adults besides straights in the dating pool and middle-aged people with tidy little nuclear families!!! I promise!!!

Guess I'll just have to write all those funky little RotBTD twenty-something AUs myself ajshdkuys

Shout-out to the RotBTD discord for giving me the idea of having Rapunzel be a cake decorator and Jack be a photographer! I sometimes struggle a bit with future career ideas for the RotBTD kids, but these fit really well :D Jack definitely seems like the kind of person who would like something freelance and loose-scheduled where he basically gets paid to capture the beauty in the world around him :O And we know Rapunzel can bake, and she likes art, so...

CAKE ART CAKE ART CAKE ART CAKE ART

VERY happy I found that snowflake-and-orb cake, because that definitely seems like something Jack would enjoy 🤍❄️ And now I kind of want to try it 👀👀👀I DO have to wonder how they did that little picture with the tree and the car :O

As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

#jackunzel #jackunzelmonth #jackunzelmonth23 #moodboard #aesthetic #jack x rapunzel #rapunzel x jack #jack frost #rapunzel #jackxrapunzel #rapunzelxjack #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #tangled #rise of the guardians #rotg #crossover

11 notes · View notes

ilikeyoshi · 3 months

Text

medical // i get to talk about removing a bunch of organs today wish me luck :)

THAT SOUNDS WORSE THAN IT IS i'm just talking about my reproductive organs again LMAO. the salpingo-oophorectomy is pretty much in the bag, it's just getting the hysterectomy covered by insurance too that's the big question mark, since it's not necessary for my pmdd treatment. (but i want it gone for easier hormone therapy + periods are dysphoric as FUCK for me LMAO.)

since i'm also at higher risk of estrogen-positive cancers i'm hopeful this can be a point towards getting everything removed NOW so i can do HRT while i'm still young and at significantly lower risk of developing any cancer IN my estrogen. less estrogen-affected organs = less cancer risk. plus if i dont have to take progesterone at all (which SUCKS as a supplement and Only the uterus needs it), that's even LESS cancer risk, bc it can't grow in progesterone if the progesterone isn't there.

so far my normal obgyn has agreed with my thinking, which is SO exciting and validating for me, and i think this other obgyn will too! i've been referred to her specifically because she's experienced in transgender healthcare, so she can better help me tackle insurance from the gender dysphoria angle, increasing my chances of getting everything covered so i don't have to start making some tough calls (and get two separate surgeries, which would SUUUUUUUUCK).

anyway, hopefully that goes well today! i'm optimistic but SO NERVOUS LMAO.

6 notes · View notes

moonshinemagpie · 4 months

Text

It makes me feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone when Congress does this particular song and dance every few years.

So, Congress, let me answer the question:

It's because of you, you asses.

Look at laws and regulations that exist in other countries regarding drug prices. Congress used France and Japan as examples, demanding to know why drug companies charge less in those countries than in the US.

Incidentally, Japan and France are the two other place where I have received healthcare. In both, the government does not ask Big Pharma to act out of the nonexistent goodness of its nonexistent heart.

I remember stepping into a dental office in France and explaining that I would need to have a ballpark estimate of the price before I received treatment. I was nervous because I had so little money. They seemed confused and told me I could have just Googled it. What I needed would be 30 euros.

I was shocked to realize that there were set prices for medical treatments and it wasn't all just random. Most recently, my US dentist ordered a nightguard for me and was told it would cost $950. He said it's usually a third of that and he has no explanation for why it's so expensive this time. Pretty typical of the American system.

Congress asking why drugs are expensive here smh.

The Japanese government sets the price for every drug on its market.

The Japanese government made it illegal for health insurance companies to ever—EVER—deny coverage. There's no wait time to get treatments "approved." You and your doctor are the only ones making decisions about the care you have access to.

The Japanese government made it illegal for clinics and hospitals to ever be for-profit.

If you need a drug that isn't covered by the national healthcare system, there is still a maximum cap you would pay out-of-pocket before you would be reimbursed. That amount varies by region throughout Japan. I believe in my city it was $8,000*, but in more populous cities it can be much less. In short: Medical bankruptcy does not exist.

Source: I have been chronically ill with a rare-ish disease that requires expensive drugs in both the US and Japan.

Congress loves pretending that the legislature they have passed (and haven't passed) since WW2 is not the reason for expensive drug prices, but America's healthcare system operates exactly as intended.

Books if you want to learn more:

Dead on Arrival by Colin Gordon

War and Health Insurance Policy in Japan and the United States by Takakazu Yamagishi

*If you're thinking that $8,000 is still a lot, keep in mind that there is no cap in the US. That cap is the last resort in Japan for if you aren't covered by the national healthcare system and aren't eligible for any of the other subsidy programs or charities. But there is no such fail safe in America. The most expensive version of the drugs to treat my disease costs $10,000 a week. In the US, if you're unlucky enough, you could just be on the hook for that with no max cap.

#negative #politics #us politics

5 notes · View notes

matchbet-allofthetime · 10 months

Text

Just started ADHD meds and... I've never felt this way. I feel like I've been almost, idk, dormant?? For years. Just waiting. Workin at less than 10% of who I am and what I was capable of as a young kid.

If I post a lot of post nothing at all or get sappy, I'm just very overwhelmed (good overwhelmed, but certainly whelmed!!) And I'm feeling a lot

I think my ADHD causes most of my anxiety and taking my medicine for the first time today has solidified a lot of what I figured out kinda on my own.

The medicine is expensive as hell, even with insurance and it shouldn't be... But I feel alive.

I'm not some dormant, sleeping husk that I've felt like for so long. Maybe I can really start to get things done again. Maybe I don't have to be so tired anymore.

Maybe I can be a writer and an artist and a guitarist and rollerblade and study and do everything without worry like I used to.

What if I can really be a person again? What if I can clean and cook and eat like I used to?

What if I'm really okay? Alive again? Breathing and what if it won't hurt anymore? What if my anxiety doesn't cause me searing pain anymore?

Maybe, maybe, what if... So much. So much fear and curiousity and hope. Hope isn't something I really feel much. It's this... Bubble of nerves in my stomach. I'm so nervous and excited. Where will things take me? I haven't been so positive in years.

Maybe I can finally live again. And I'm so scared but so excited because things, as shit as they are, are looking up at least a little. And that's a start. 💖

#ADHD #combined type ADHD #adhd combined #mental illness #dohma.random #dohma.ramble #my brain is working #functioning right #ASD #autism #doesn't mention autism #but i do have it #so #I'm scared #but im still goin #and that's all i need to do #maybe ill go get a treat today #in celebration

9 notes · View notes

fuck-customers · 2 years

Text

This happened a few days ago but...wooo boy, this guy had some unresolved anger issues or something.

I work at the front door of a movie theater, taking tickets. This family walks in with a toddler in a stroller and tickets to Nope, which is rated R. Two issues there: one, we don't allow kids under seven into R rated movies, even with their parents, and two, we don't allow strollers. The last part isn't even company policy, it's by order of the Fire Marshall because after we remodeled, there was an inspection and it was decided there's no where to safely put them that isn't a tripping hazard in the case of a fire (except for the wheelchair spots, which by law have to be reserved for people in wheelchairs.)

So like, I started to tell the guy this, and I got as far as "um" AKA before even saying an actually word when he started shouting. (For context, I wasn't being rude, I'm disabled and sometimes Words Are Hard, especially if it's a situation I don't have a Script for, and this guy's vibes were making me nervous, which makes it worse)

So I called for the head manager, and another manager also came up to the front because she could hear him from the fucking other side of the building (and this is a large theater).

I'm not gonna repeat everything this guy said, because he was yelling for a long while, but highlights include:

Threatening us

Threatening us more

Threatening us even more

Calling the other manager a "bitch" and a "fat ho" (to which she started giggling)

Accusing the head manager of threatening him even though all the head manager said was "what?" because he was caught off guard by the threats

Refusing to get a refund or change to a non-adult rated film

Finally deciding that he's gonna change movies but we ended up refusing the request and telling him to leave because he couldn't stop threatening us for long enough to make the transaction

Refusing to leave until we called the cops, and even then just going to sit in his car

Repeatedly getting out of the car to keep shouting at us while we waited for the cops

He did end up leaving before the cops showed because they're slow as shit despite literally being in the same parking lot as us.

Like, I'm not a fan of cops, but this guy wasn't going to leave otherwise. And even though I've had many angry customers, there hasn't been many times where I was genuinely worried a customer would come back and murder us all, but this is one of those times. Also I can't help but be worried for his kid and wife/girlfriend/whoever the lady with him was. If he's that angry about not getting his way for something as minor as a movie ticket (which would have been replaced or refunded if he hadn't decided to act Like That), then I'd hate to see how he acts when he doesn't get his way at home. Because I grew up with a mother with anger issues, and she was a lot more abusive in private than in public. Obviously not everyone with anger issues with abusive, but I'm pretty sure his behavior counts as abusing service workers.

Also the same day this happened, the head manager decided that my accommodation of being allowed to sit between customers is revoked because it's not fair to other employees. Granted, I don't have a doctor's note, because I don't have insurance, but I do walk with a cane. Which I'm not allowed to use at work. He said other employees had asked why I get to sit and he "didn't feel comfortable answering that" despite having my explicit permission to do so, hence the chair revoke. Also starting the next day (which was yesterday) I was moved to the back, to do auditorium checks, which means walking back and forth across the entire building. I used to do auditorium checks but they moved me off of that role because I fell down the stairs too many times because I have trouble walking and am not allowed to use my cane. We do have a box office, where the people are allowed to sit, but they refuse to let me work that because our location has a "tradition" that you have to work at concessions before you can sell tickets, despite other locations in town not doing this.

All of the coworkers who saw me being checks seemed concerned for me which is nice I guess? But the manager said that if my disabilities are as bad as I say, then he'll have to talk to corporate and see what they say. Which I'm dreading, because the reason I didn't bring in a doctor's note to be able to sit is because several years ago, I had a doctor's note for what amounted to transition lenses just to be safe, and it was rejected and the GM (who just left last month) told me that if I bring in any more notes, I should look for another job. I know I actually submitted about it the day that it happened, though she now denies saying it.

It's not like sitting stops me from doing my job. I still have to stand up to help customers, and literally everywhere who works here, including the manager that I had this conversion with, will admit that I'm the best ticket taker by far. Bringing it back to Rage Man, I know full well that pretty much all of the new hires (who would be the ones asking about the chair) would have just let the guy do whatever he wanted, if they even noticed what the problems were, because I've seen them do it. I'm literally the only floorstaff who actually remembers all the rules for entry, let alone enforce them, and some of the managers can't even do that (and other managers have to correct them).

(Also if anyone is wondering, I did apply for other jobs so I can get the fuck out, but I haven't had any luck. Most employers don't want a person with mobility aids. Also, I didn't use my cane when I started working at my job because that was almost seven years ago and my mobility has gotten worse with time. Probably at least in part due to all the walking, climbing stairs, and falling down stairs. But I've been using my cane everywhere I go except while on the clock for at least 4 years, and I've been allowed to sit for over a year, so it's not like this is a new thing)

Also sorry for the entire fucking novel but this weekend has been A Lot.

#tw #trigger warning #submissions #fuck customers #cashier problems #happy ending #fuck co-workers #fuck retail #embarrassing #server problems #call center problems #fuck coworkers #fuck managers #retail justice #retail law #tw:

64 notes · View notes

bisexualamy · 8 months

Text

Transition Update #64: Phallo Consults Omnibus

This post contains (sometimes frank) discussions of: surgery, medical appointments, weight loss, sex and dysphoria.

Just at the top here: I will not be publicly disclosing my surgeon or surgery center. Unfortunately, trans surgeries are more and more becoming public targets and I don't want to jeopardize my surgeon or my hospital further. If you're interested in pursuing phalloplasty and want that information, please DM me.

I'm having stage one phallo one week from today on October 10th! I'm incredibly excited and nervous and a bit scared, but I know with full confidence that this is the right decision for me and that, on the other side of this, I'm going to be so much happier and less dysphoric.

I had four phallo consults leading up to surgery, which is higher than average. There were a few specific factors in my case that necessitated this many consults. I'm going to summarize them all here since a lot of info overlapped consults. Please take my experience as a helpful guide but not a prescriptive experience. These things really vary based on your chosen method and your surgeon.

I'm also going to be frankly discussing my personal pros and cons about aspects of phalloplasty. This is the only disclaimer I'm going to give: these are my personal opinions based on my own dysphoria, health, body, and surgical needs. I am, in no way, casting judgement or degrading other people's phallo decisions. Just because I opted not to do something, doesn't mean I look down on those who do.

I talked a bit about my first consult here. I began the bottom surgery process back in August of 2022. I had to pass a lot of mental and physical health screenings (hospital policy) and preemptively get all of my insurance letters. This is to streamline the process going forward, since this is a multi-stage surgery. The hospital is taking care of arguing with my insurance for me. My insurance covers gender affirming care if you jump through all of the hoops, but they usually try to nickle and dime me on aspects of the procedure regardless. I'm really happy I don't have to deal with that personally.

I went into the consult process knowing my list of priorities for the surgery. They were, in order of importance: ability to have penetrative sex, retaining sexual sensation, aesthetics, and ability to pee standing up. While I personally don't care much about the last one, my surgeon and I ultimately decided to attempt UL once, using all best practices to mitigate complication, but agreed not to do revision surgeries if UL had significant complications. My surgeon told me that UL is easily reversible (a brief surgery taking less than an hr) and since this isn't a priority for me, it's not worth getting stuck in a revolving door of revision surgeries to fix it.

I also went into this procedure knowing I didn't want to do RFF, but knowing little else about other phallo methods. Financially, I couldn't wait to complete physical therapy to get full mobility of one of my hands back. My hands are my living. I later learned that I'm not a good candidate for RFF anyway, because I have poor circulation in my hands and forearms. My surgeon told me I was not a candidate for ALT, because the skin on my thighs is too thick, and as a result the circumference of the phallus would be unworkable. They told me that I'd have to lose an unhealthy amount of wait to qualify and we decided against it.

Ultimately, I decided to go with abdominal phalloplasty. Abdo appealed to me for a few reasons: it's compatible with erectile devices and t dick burial, it's not a free flap and therefore it lowers my chances of graft rejection or graft complications, and it would not require microsurgery. My surgeon also told me that my body type lent itself to abdo anyway. My surgeon warned me that it's unrealistic to expect sensation in the lower half of the phallus at all, and that they don't guarantee sensation at all. However, my surgeon did tell me that studies the hospital has done show that there's a greater chance of regaining sensation in the top half of the phallus, and that many post-op patients experience significant psychosomatic sensation through the whole phallus.

While this was a little disappointing, it was ultimately a nonissue. Right now, having sex is incredibly dysphoric for me, to the point where I cannot find it enjoyable. I'm not choosing between having full sensation sex and partial sensation sex. I'm choosing between not having sex at all and being able to have sex.

I did have to lose about 20lbs to qualify (again, due to the circumference issue). This was difficult for me as someone in ED recovery for binge-restrict cycles. I frequently talked about the weight loss process in therapy to try and come at it from a healthier angle. What made it additionally tough was that the weight loss was mainly aesthetic: I needed to lose it so my phallus would be an average proportion. The safest way I was able to do this was: pivoting to a mostly vegetarian diet and committing to my existing strength training regimen, two things I wanted to do anyway. I did have to calorie track, which can be a trigger for me, so some months I couldn't. Ultimately, I lost 15lbs and need to lose the other 5lbs by stage 2.

The rest of my consults were follow ups on my general health and weight loss. It's highly recommended that you get in the best physical shape you can before a surgery as intense as phallo, since it can help with the recovery process. I'm definitely in good physical shape, though several recent life stressors and personal tragedies have made that more difficult. I'm trying to be generous with myself on this front and admit that this was really the best I could do.

I also had to do laser on my graft site which was mostly painful and annoying but obviously worth it. Logistics for this were a headache that's no one's fault but my surgical center. It's not worth getting into because so many of the factors are unique to me personally and my phallo timing.

I told my surgeon I wanted to go slowly to further lower the risk of complication. My #1 priority here is safety and mitigating the need for revision surgeries. When my phalloplasty is complete, I want it to be done with so I can move on with my life. That being said: we staged my surgery out this way:

Stage 0: hysto and partial vgectomy (done back in January) Stage 1: meta, UL creation, complete vgectomy, "tee up" stage 2 so I can spend as little time on the table as possible Stage 2: take the graft and create the phallus Stage 3: scrotoplasty, glandsplasty, finish UL Stage 4: erectile device, finish scrotoplasty and glandsplasty

Staging out surgery this much is going to take way more time, but lowers my risk of complication. It also allows me to work and pick up limited-term contract work without prolonged interruption. I simply cannot afford to take 6 months of life off from work. I don't have the savings for it.

While that's annoying I think it's ultimately for the better. One thing I do appreciate about this timeline is that with each stage, I get something new that I really want. Overall this process has been mentally exhausting and tough, but it's going to be so worth it, and I'm so excited to finally have something to show for it.

#transition stuff

5 notes · View notes

incarnateirony · 1 year

Text

YEEHAW. Hip replacement isn't just 2023 goals it's gonna end up mandatory, glad I've been planning for this a bit as life allows.

I'd "joked" a while back, with honest reality to it, that I knew one day I'd wake up and my legs didn't work, and that the day wasn't far away, but still I slotted it as Within A Few Years.

A few days back I was cleaning, just did some of my normal bending over with support to pick up a few objects, and something in my back pinched, and left me propped on the wall with a blown out back like I was doing yoga or some shit.

So you know, I hobbled it off. Friend even ordered me some shit so I could stay in bed without getting up and rest it off, because Sometimes I Pinch Things, Give It A Few Days, It Will Get Better.

And sure, a few days later I'm up doing basic things again. Things like peeing and bathing are pretty important. And well, I had MOSTLY popped past the worst of the pinch, enough I could walk on it. And you eventually get used to it.

But such is the spoonie problem. So I was just waiting for my coffee to percolate and did a grimace-shift to try to pop out my back again. And the best way I can describe the nervous system sensation as my hips COMPLETELY readjusted their slant, was a shock of just experiencing your body there but being outside of it. The pain stopped for a flash fire second of complete release but that's just it, everything stopped.

It finished adjusting and clicked and it was back to normal after that one second, but I was standing there with my mug a bit dumbstruck like I'd had an OOBE and just said, out loud, to the air, in profound realization, "Oh."

Definitely gonna keep an eye on a classic wheelchair at least, that'd get around this joint better than a scooter, got the scooter in the basement but not the space.

So anyway guess who's ass is learning to stay in bed and about to rearrange their desk one last time. boutta shove the cooler under the desk and the toaster oven on it next to the TV/Monitor and computer and keep my ass put while taking other steps unless I absolutely gotta piss. Gotta hold out a few more months that's all SDKFJSDKJFSJ get insurance coverage again that goes top of the list.

8 notes · View notes

bubblesandgutz · 11 months

Note

Hello again, Brian! New album is dope and on heavy, heavy repeat. So, thanks for that. Was wondering, now that we're a year out from you and the guys getting robbed, how are you liking the changes to your gear? I noticed your rig is predominantly Darkglass, do you still have the Meatsmoke? We're you able to rebuild your board with the same gear? New preferences? Thanks!

Hey y'all... big apologies for not getting through my inbox with any degree of regularity. This message is from last year, so I've obviously been slacking. Sorry! And thanks for the kind words regarding Gnosis.

Russian Circles were robbed in Chowchilla, CA back in October '21. Our box truck was parked at a hotel parking lot and we woke up in the morning to find the majority of our gear, merch, and a bunch of miscellaneous personal items gone. Personally, I lost two speaker cabinets, a synth, a MIDI keyboard, a baritone guitar, a bass, pedalboard, and a bunch of accessories (DI, strings, cables, multitools, etc). Oh... and they took a really nice pair of boots from me. Assholes.

It was an unusual tour for us because it was only a handful of shows and it was on the West Coast, so we flew out and Mike and Dave rented/borrowed a bunch of gear. I had just purchased three speaker cabs from Darkglass, so I had driven my rig down from Seattle. I was fortunate because my amps weren't stolen (they were in a beat-up cardboard box that the thieves must've missed) and I still had my Meatsmoke back in Chicago. But I had JUST bought those cabinets, so that was a very big bummer.

We were unlucky in that our gear insurance had lapsed. This was because the renewal email from the insurance company was sent to a label employee that had gotten a new job during the pandemic. However, because so much of the gear was rented/borrowed, it likely wouldn't have covered much of the loss. But we were very fortunate that fans were generous via GoFundMe and several instrument companies immediately offered to help us out (thank you Darkglass, Electrical Guitar Company, Dunlop, Fuzzrocious, and Keith McMillen). It was also a big turning point for us because Hiwatt loaned Mike a backline for the remaining shows, and Mike has never been happier with his sound now that he's playing Hiwatts.

Ever since the robbery, I've been cycling through a lot of different gear options. I was able to rebuild my pedalboard, but my new bass and baritone have slightly different sonic characteristics from the instruments that were stolen, and as a result my sound changed slightly. Most of my first shows back after the pandemic were nowhere near Chicago, which meant I didn't have access to my 8x10 and Meatsmoke. So I used the Darkglass amp and cabs for the TAAS shows, SUMAC shows, and remaining stateside RC dates in 2021 and early 2022. Russian Circles went back to Europe in Spring '22 and I rented a couple of Ampeg SVT3s for the tour just because they tend to be the amps that I'm most comfortable dialing in. I felt really confident about the sound I got in Europe... felt like it was closer to my pre-robbery sound... so I got back to the States and bought two cheap used SVT3s for our Fall tour. By the end of the tour, both amps were broken beyond repair. I finished the tour using my Meatsmoke on bass and Darkglass for synth stuff. The Meatsmoke is still an excellent amp but I'm nervous taking it on the road now that Verellen isn't making amps anymore.

My Meatsmoke and 8x10 are still in Chicago. Most of my Darkglass stuff is in LA. And since most of my musical activity this year has been in the PNW with Botch and SUMAC, I've had to cobble together a backline from borrowed stuff here in Seattle. Been using a pair of cabs that belong to Cory from Minus the Bear and have been borrowing amps from Science and Hiwatt. Both amps are fantastic. I actually bought the Science amp after recording the new SUMAC album on it, and am currently talking with Hiwatt about getting one of their DR201 amps.

So that's where I've been at with gear. If you've been wondering why every picture of my backline on Instagram is different, that's the reason.

3 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

posstube

Posstube#

necessary-firm-instead

Untitled

pfokus-blog

pFOkUS

islamsymphony-blog

ISLAM SYMPHONY

lovestruckrep

to live for the hope of it all