#hate is exhausting and i have many better things to do

[harmoonix]

Astrology Observations

♡ - Cozy - ♡

you'll always find your way back home♡

♡ 4th house placements, especially Moon/Venus or Sun, know how to make someone feel comforted/safe/protected/loved. These planets can often share a common love language with the people they love

♡ 7° or 19° degrees on Chiron talks about a person who has a hard time when it comes to letting people out of their lives

♡ 4° 16° 28° on Moon or Chiron can indicate a nostalgic person. They are often lost with their memories in their past and attach too hard on them

♡ Sun in the 1st house can easily receive admiration, they can inspire people to do things, and people often look after them

♡ Moon in the 6th house attaches mentally to a person, and they hardly leave their mind. This person might worry or think too much about their lovers

♡ Mercury in the 9th house is good at changing accents or faking them. They can be really good at jobs which involve traveling, translator, eduction, blogger or architect

♡ Aries Placements won't tolerate random flirts from people they barely know. Most Aries that I know don't like when random ppl flirt with them

♡ 29° degrees on the Sun can indicate a lifetime lesson involving yourself. Can be a lesson about discovering something within yourself, loving yourself, everything is possible

♡ Moon at 9° or 21° love to share things with the people they love. These natives are not afraid to open to love. Their open-minded personality helps a lot

♡ 5° 17° or 29° degrees indicate big/large family members. Especially if these degrees are on Venus or Moon or in the 5th house

♡ Cancer Jupiter is also one of the placements that also indicates having a large family. Also siblings or a step - family

♡ Pluto or Uranus in the 2nd house can struggle with money or to keep them. You might spend them too fast and ending up regretting later

♡ your 2nd house can also tell you how much you value yourself. If water is present, you can be more chill. If it is earth, you can feel more grounded

♡ 6° or 18° degrees on ascendant/sun/MC can indicate others tend to perceive as a perfectionist, while in real life, you struggle to fit in the norm

♡ 12th house Sun can indicate a person who needs to find spirituality as a healing key, same for those with the sun at 12° 24°. There are many ways to heal/feel better with usiny spirituality

♡ Venus in the 12th house can have the same effect in relationships like Saturn in the 7th house = Less partners and more relationships in your adult/mature years

♡ Your 5th house sign and its ruler can indicate your hobbies. Nothing is randomly here, and these hobbies can help you to reach a purpose

♡ Aries and Taurus Placements are being tested on their patience. You play with their nerves, and they explode. They hateee waiting and like to do things fast

♡ You might feel like things are falling apart when you're having Saturn or Pluto transit your 1st house, struggle timeeeee

♡ Moon transit your 3rd house can be a time where you'll find yourself talking and socializing more

♡ Mars transit the 11th house can be time where you can fight more often with your friends and relatives

♡ Saturn transit your 6th house is a good time to reflect and heal mentally. You can be exhausted, so take a break!

♡ Saturn in the 1st house can struggle with their appearance. Sometimes they don't like themselves which is perfectly normal, but never hate yourself!

♡ Lowkey Saturn or Pluto, same with Capricorn/Aquarius/Scorpio in the 12th house, can be depressive af. Especially mentally depressive

♡ Taurus tends to be lazy, especially if Venus/Moon are involved. 'I will do that later' and will end up never doing it or forgetting about it

♡ Virgo Moons are getting overwhelmed in crowded areas,they may avoid large groups or people. Usually, they have few special people close to them

♡ 0° degrees on Saturn can indicate being born without a karmic lesson, and you'll create one in this lifetime.

♡ Sun aspecting Mars natives likes to create tension between people, sometimes they will make people fight due to Mars being a planet of war and interacting with Sun

♡ 2nd or 4th house placements can be goof st gifting/generous people, sometimes they may like to spoil people with gifts or simply spoiling themselves

♡ Sagittarius/Scorpio/Leo and Aries placements can like salty foods more than sweets. This is something I observed in a lot of people with these placements

♡ Sun in the 7th house can attract selfish people in their lives. Especially enemies with a narcissistic energy

♡ Mars in the 5th house can get obsessed with a certain hobby/activity and then being competitive with others about it

Hope you have it good!! 🧡🧡🧡 Take care of yourself and stay healthy 🧡

Harmoonix 🧡

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

hellooo. May I request a teen!nanami x teen!f!reader? With the trope "he probably hates me x I love her so much" 🤭🤭

I think it fit nanami perfectly since he is such a introvert/ stoic person.

If u do this request thank u ❤️

This is my first official request so I'll make a series for you !

"He probably hates me" x "I love her so much "

(Teen!Nanami Kento x Teen!F!Reader )

Next: {The Bakery Incident}

Jujutsu High had many cruel punishments, but nothing ,nothing was worse than being assigned Nanami Kento as a study partner.

You weren’t bad at math per se, but it definitely wasn’t your strong suit. So when Yaga paired you up with Nanami, the smartest person in your class, you thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d be patient. Maybe he’d be nice. Maybe just maybe he wouldn’t look at you like you were the most exhausting thing in existence.

Spoiler alert: He did.

"That’s wrong," Nanami said flatly, tapping his pencil against your worksheet. His tone wasn’t necessarily mean, but it sure felt mean coming from him.

You groaned, dramatically flopping onto the library table. "Okay, then help me fix it, oh great math genius."

Nanami exhaled slowly, like he was holding onto the last bit of patience he had. "It’s not about being a genius. It’s basic calculations. If you actually focused-"

"I am focusing!" you shot back.

He gave you a deadpan look, eyes flicking to your hands your fingers drumming against the table, your pen spinning in distracted circles.

You sighed, sitting up properly. "You hate this, don’t you?"

Nanami blinked. "What?"

"You hate this," you repeated, quieter this time. "Studying with me. Being here. You probably hate me too."

Nanami stiffened. His fingers twitched around his pen. For a moment, you thought he was about to confirm your worst fears.

But then

"That’s ridiculous," he muttered.

You frowned. "…Huh?"

"I don’t hate you," he said, a little too quickly. His gaze darted away, suddenly very interested in his notebook. "If anything, you’re just… distracting."

Your heart sank. "Distracting?"

Nanami sighed. "You fidget too much. You ask unnecessary questions. And you…" His voice lowered, almost reluctant. "You smile too much."

Your breath hitched. Oh.

You forced a chuckle. "Right. Got it. I’ll try to, y’know, tone it down or whatever."

"That’s not what I—"

"Let’s just finish this," you cut in, plastering on a grin. "So you don’t have to suffer longer than necessary."

Nanami’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t frustrated with you he was frustrated with himself. Because the truth was, you weren’t just distracting you were overwhelming. He liked your fidgeting, your questions, your damn smile that made his heart race at all the wrong moments.

But he was Nanami Kento, and he was terrible at this.

So instead of saying what he wanted to say, he simply sighed, flipping to a fresh page.

"…Let’s start over," he said, voice softer this time. "I’ll explain it better."

Thank u so much!

I don't officially have a title so bear with me and

[astracora]

Poly!LADs headcanons - Caleb Edition

(Because I have no idea if I'll ever get around to writing his intro to the polycule so I wanted to shove some ideas into a post.)

Masterlist

- The one who has the most trouble adapting to the concept of the polycule.

- Reintroduced after the polycule is formed, a year after his death.

- His reintroduction is obviously a bit rough, not only is he actively combative with the MC, but his actions push them further into the comfort of the polycule like a wounded cat.

- After they have eased the relationship out, it's some time before they talk to him about the polycule. Not sure how to broach it.

- He already knew, and he already stewed about it for a long time. (He's still stewing about it.)

- They've mourned him, after loving him, and moved forwards though, he can't push and demand when he knows that without the polycule they likely wouldn't still be there.

- His first meeting is rough, he can hide as much as he wants behind smiles, but Sylus is very good at reading people, as is Rafayel, so they can see through him. (Rafayel is no stranger to fake smiles). Xavier is jealous so reacts most to Caleb, while Zayne is somewhat calm, but wary. On one hand he has a childhood friend back, on the other hand depending on how much he knows. If he knows about Caleb's involvement with EVER, a great deal of distrust, and some real anger (that he tries not to show).

- Clashes most with Rafayel and Zayne. Rafayel because the two are almost opposed in many ways (Caleb's lack of sensory input and reluctance to touch, vs Rafayel as a Lemurian where his senses are SO attuned to his lovers, as well as the memory focus, and also the fact that both hide part of themselves behind a reasonably jovial mask, but Raffy is a lot better at hiding.) Zayne because the two do not agree on the methods of protecting and caring for MC (Keeping them hidden/caged, and the actions of siding with EVER with the intent to keep MC safe (which Zayne consistently states is a stupid plan.)).

- Understands Xavier, still doesn't like him.

- Depending on the advancement of his story, he has the potential to come to terms with the fact that accepting help and acknowledging that he's not alone in his drive to protect the person who means the most to him, helps him step past his self assigned cage.

- With enough time and trust, he accepts the polycule's help tending to his arm. They tinker with it and work with specialists to try to make it capable of sensory responses. It's kind of an exchange that keeps them on good ground. A kind of 'look we're not enemies, you have to lower your hackles' kinda thing.

- He hates the situation a lot less when he holds MC's hand for the first time again, and can feel the heat of them through his cybernetics.

- Builds models with Sylus, though it's more he builds models, Sylus suggests ways to bring them to life as real mini robot weapons. If the two are left alone, they WILL create tiny weaponised planes.

- Rafayel has taken to using them as target practice for throwing daggers.

- One crashed into Zayne's office door, waking him up from a nap, and made him think they were being attacked.

- Xavier slept through the whole thing, and woke up to plane shrapnel in his hair (he's used his light blade to knock a few out if they have disturbed his slumber though.)

- MC does not get enough sleep, and almost banned the planes, until Sylus and Caleb both promised to stop flying them indoors. Hooked up lil cameras to the things and started flying them around linkon and as far as they could before the things ran out of signal. (They got some killer nature recordings.)

- Caleb is another member of the insomnia crew. He's woken up alongside Zayne a few times, and made tea for them both. (Only for MC to toddle in not long after, and curling up between them with their own warm drink, exhausted and miserable but also unable to sleep.)

- Caleb helps take over some of the cooking, he also tries to find tech Xavier can use that won't catch fire, reducing the amount of cooking incidents by about 50%. (If asked he'll say he's doing it to keep MC safe... Xavier's smile when he cooks a full and very good meal has shit all to do with it. He swears.)

- Is the most averse to affection, originally sees the polycule as a means to an end, after all other people are just background noise to his real focus. Unluckily for him, it's hard to keep that mindset up when you spend that much time with people who don't have chips in their head, and also don't want to hurt the things you care about. The anti EVER squad are best placed to combat his 'world for just us two' energy. As well as question his intent. (Especially with how important MC's independence is to them.)

- Will not begin physically and emotionally warming up to the rest of the lads before he finally overcomes the wall keeping him from MC. After he has finally stepped over the line, he basks in it, then begins to let himself become more human again.

- He and Xavier ARE the protection squad. You want to bother the polycule? Can't promise you won't end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

- Zayne does try to rein this in. Sylus finds it hilarious. Rafayel cannot comment because he was thinking about stabbing that dude too. MC thinks they might need to start taking migraine medication because please guys, one nice meal out.

- He's tidy and multi talented. It takes a WHILE before he finds a room for himself in the house, isn't really sure what to fill it with because he struggles to refind his identity as a person. It begins with filling it with model planes, it advances into photos and memories, as well as his DAA stuff as well. Becomes a place he can keep things that tether him to himself.

- Has mended clothes for the others, really wants to know how Raffy tears so many shirts. No he cannot get acrylics out of a white shirt, why did you let it stain!?!!

- His puppy dog eyes are a weapon of mass destruction. NO one is safe. All have fallen to those eyes. 'But he just looks so sad' 'I know he does but why does that mean we now have two puppies in the living room' 'MC wanted them!' 'Caleb we don't have the space or time!!!'

- Uses all his old social media accounts, like an absolute fool. (Aren't you dead dude why are you using all ur old numbers????) Unfollowed most people, kept MC. Didn't follow the polycule. Was missing cute photos and things they'd posted, grumpily and (not that) reluctantly followed them all.

- He and Zayne occasionally have a kamaoji-off.

- He has taken Sylus flying. He did turn his head away so the dragon man could have a moment of sad recollection.

- Does still compete constantly to be the best person to assist mc in their day to day. The competitions can get aggressive and over the top. The lads do get carried away.

- Is the most scared of losing everyone, it does keep him awake at night. Does plan eventualities with the polycule. Does feel comforted knowing that if he fails, he's not leaving MC to deal with everything alone. Assures himself and everyone that he won't fail. He has his tether to get back to, after all.

[willowcried]

being quinnie’s little lapdog.

the auditorium.

the only place she allowed you to talk to her at school. anywhere else was completely prohibited. she told you that on day one.

if you tried to talk to her in the hallways, she wouldn’t even acknowledge you. you learned that the hard way, when she left you there like an wet puppy while she walked past, barely sparing you a glance. you didn’t think she was actually serious.

she would apologize later, sure—murmuring quiet sorry, baby’s while kissing your stupid face, as she usually called it, curling her fingers around the collar of your sweater before making you lose it. that’s when she’d let herself be soft, let her nails drag gently along your jaw, let her voice drop into something warm, something just for you. she’d kiss you slow, teasing, until your head spun, until your hands trembled where they held onto her waist.

and then, just when you thought she might actually mean it—just when you thought maybe she felt something real—she’d pull away with that knowing smirk, dragging her thumb across your kiss-dazed lips harshly before fixing her cardigan like nothing happened.

you understood, though.

she was hurt after puckerman, obviously. she needed control back in her life. she needed this—you—on her terms. not because she liked having you as a pet.

that’s what you told yourself, anyway.

today, she’s late. your fingers nervously drum on the random seat you chose in the big auditorium. glancing at your cellphone for the third time, your leg bounces up and down but you hate skipping class. even though she was the reason why you did it, your mind was stressed, thinking about the missing lessons just for quinn.

of course it had its perks, though. depending on your luck, sometimes she was nice, running her fingers through your hair the way you liked, teasing you about your sweater choices, calling you cute in that whispery voice that made your brain short-circuit.

other times, she was mean. distant. late on purpose, like she wanted to see how long you’d wait before you gave up.

this seems to be the case today as she flings the door open, storming towards you with that look on her face that pretty much terrifies you. she stops in front of you, and you barely have time to open your mouth before— “what the hell is wrong with you?”

you blink. “i—what?”

she exhales sharply, rolling her eyes, like you’re exhausting her. like she doesn’t have you completely lost, going through your folder of memories to figure out what you did wrong.

“you know what, nerd.”

except you don’t.

quinn sighs, tilting her head back like she’s trying to rein herself in, and when she looks at you again, her eyes are sharp, expectant. “why were you looking at me in class?”

your lips part in realization. that’s what this was about? the stupid rules? “i wasn’t trying to—”

her eyes narrow. “so you admit it.”

shit.

“i’m sorry. i won’t do that again.” you swallow, voice quieter now. “i just liked the way you did your hair today.” you point with your index finger, suddenly hyperaware of how warm your face feels. “with the yellow— the little flower.”

“stupid. they could’ve found out.”

she always said that. you still didn’t understand how could a person connect so many dots by just one look. the no-talking- in-the-halls rule was understandable, but not being able to look at her?

you don’t say a thing about your thoughts, though. you know better.

“i’m really sorry, q.” you tug on her hand, pulling her closer to you until she’s standing between your legs.

you stare up at her, squeezing her hand when she doesn’t say anything after a beat—two beats, trying to get her to talk to you. it’s nonsense. you know it. she knows it, but that doesn’t stop her from remaining silent for another moment, just so she can look down at you some more, to make you impatient.

and you do. but then, just as you’re about to apologize again, quinn huffs, shaking her head. “idiot.”

before you can react, she’s on you. it’s sudden, the way she slants her mouth over yours, her hands gripping the back of your neck to pull you into her. you barely have time to adjust to the heat of her lips before she’s straddling you, sliding into your lap with ease, her body pressing against yours, drawing out of your throat the tiniest, most embarrassing sound against her lips while your fingers curl around her hips instinctively.

your glasses fog up from the rush of your breaths, but she’s quick enough to pull them on top of your head effortlessly the second they start getting in the way without breaking the kiss. her hands cradle your face, fingers threading into your hair as she deepens it.

[cautotelic]

Chapter 6: Last Piece of the Puzzle

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: When you get taken away from your home land and thrown into the palace of the infamous warlord, will things be as bad as they first seem?

CW: PURE FLUFF, alluding to sexual acts

A/N: last part, let’s go out with some love

~5 years later~

“Come on, the kids I teach could do better than you, Rictus,” I say as I circle the commander.

Rictus laughs. “Your lucky I’m pulling my punches. The General would not be happy if I actually hurt you.”

“How about you let me deal with Ambessa and you fight. Deal? Deal.” I say as I go to attack him head on.

I’ve switched my regular staff for a more traditional Noxian dual sword staff. I jab it in his direction and he goes to block it. I flick my wrist and summon a shadow reaper that comes at him from the side, distracting him enough so that I can sweep my staff at his feet, having him land on his back.

He’s quick enough and disperses the reaper before swinging his blade over to me. I drift my hand in front of my stomach, erecting a force field, his blade pinging off of it. He looks at me with a mix of relief and anxiety as the blade deflects.

I rein in my breathing as Rictus comes at me with an attack. Using my staff I counter his attacks but I’m not able to get back on the offensive so I stick to blocking. In no time I can tell my motions are getting slower, my body being wracked with fatigue.

Rictus stops his attacks and looks at me concerned. “That’s enough for today, little lady,” he orders.

I roll my eyes at him and catch my breath. “You’re no fun anymore Rictus,” I protest but silently I’m agreeing with him.

“I thought I told you no more sparring,” an ever so familiar voice booms from behind me.

Rictus bows his head in Ambessa’s direction before leaving the arena. I turn around to my ever so brooding wife.

“You’re no fun these days either,” I chide as I watch her stalk over to me with her hands behind her back.

When she’s close enough she hums and pulls me closer to her by the waist. “How is my little one doing?” She asks, concern lacing her voice.

I bring my hands to run over my enlarged stomach. “She’s fine. Restless, but fine,” I say my voice tinged with exhaustion. Ambessa’s large hands come to press against my stomach, her cold hands a nice contrast to my warm skin as she looks at my pregnant belly.

“I’m not talking about the baby, dear,” she clarifies as she looks at me expectedly.

I huff and bring my hand to cradle her cheek. “I’m just fine, you worry too much.”

She looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Obviously I’m not worrying enough. Going behind my back and sparring with my most trusted commander? I should punish you for it…” she says

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh please do General,” I egg on sarcastically.

She chuckles and lays her head into my neck. I pull her head away from me and give her a good once over. “You look exhausted. How many times have I told you not to be staying up so late to do paperwork?” I ask, noting the stress lines etched on her face.

She nuzzles her cheek into my palm and turns her head to kiss the band of my wedding ring. “Don’t worry about me, it’s not good for the baby. Plus that's my job.”

“I told you I hate when you say that…” I huff as my hand makes its way to her hair where it sits in a low military style bun, clearly having been like that for multiple days. “Come on, you're in deep need of a good bath and some T.L.C, my love,” I command as I kiss her cheek.

•••

I sit on the edge of the tub, my legs in the water. My hands work on lathering and detangling the hair of the woman sitting between my legs. I take the last section of her hair and take some cream in my hand, spread it on the section before taking a comb and brushing her hair out, bottom to top. I’m gentle with brushing out her hair not wanting to pull too hard.

Her hand comes up out of the water to tenderly squeeze my calf beside her. “Dear im not made of glass, you don’t need to be so gentle,” she chuckles.

I move my hand to the base of her scalp and give the hair there a firm tug, earning a groan. “Better?” I ask teasingly.

“Always trying my patience little one.”

I make a small sound and shrug and go back to brushing her hair before starting to braid her hair into a protective style. Weaving the strands of her hair over and under each other. It’s taken a long time but now I’m the only person other than herself who she will let do her hair, and I carry that badge with pride.

One of my newts floats around in the water by my leg, since my pregnancy I’ve found comfort in having them around more often than not.

I take the bottle of oil beside me and apply it in between each of the braids. Ambessa lets out satisfied sighs as I massage the oil into her scalp.

Once I’m finished touching her hair, Ambessa’s hand reaches back and pulls my head down towards hers as she presses a loving, tender kiss on my lips.

“Always so good to me, hm?” I smirk as I pull away to go put her hair care products away. From behind me I hear her rise from the tub and dry herself off.

I exit the bathroom and into our shared bedroom, going to sit on my couch in front of the fireplace as I pull out my stethoscope and notebook. Placing the earpieces in my ear I press the cool metal to my stomach and quiet my breathing as I move it around, only stopping when I hear the familiar sound of a heartbeat.

I wait and count how many beats per minute before writing it down in my notebook. I do this 5 times. While I’m busy, I don’t hear Ambessa come out of the bathroom dressed in nothing but her silk robe. She places the newt on the couch next to me, the small shadow spinning around before settling down beside my leg. She removes the ear pieces from my ears and places them in hers.

A small, proud smile appears on her face. “She will be strong, just like her mother,” she reassures. “Again, stop worrying, the physician said that everything is going as it should," she adds trying to quell my worries.

I sigh as I take the stethoscope and place it on the couch beside me. “I know, I know. I just feel like something is going to go wrong, something always goes wrong,” I admit as I run my hands anxiously over my swollen stomach as I’m reminded of my own childhood.

Ambessa reaches out and steadies my hands, holding them in hers. “Nothing is going to happen to you or our child, dear. I assure you. Now,” she says as she stands from her kneeling position, pulling me up with her. “I think you need some T.L.C too, don’t you think?” She asks, her tone hinting at more than the usual foot massage.

She backs me up and I fall back to sit on the edge of the bed. I quirk an eyebrow. “While I do enjoy your enthusiasm, is what you have in mind also ‘not good for the baby’?” I ask, throwing her words back at her.

She kneels down again in front of me and starts gently kissing up my bump and I chuckle at the tickling sensation. She trails her way up my chest to my collarbone and neck where she starts focusing her attention. She hums with disagreement as she shakes her head. “Nope, not at all. Actually it’s completely beneficial… for you.”

I roll my eyes with a sigh as I tilt my head to give her more access. “Yeah? What book did you read that in?”

She acts as if she is thinking. “Hm? Mine, it’s called Tough Love and will you very respectfully shut up so I can get on with helping my dear, darling wife relax?” She asks, her hands hooked and resting in the waistband of the flowy pants I was wearing, waiting for my go ahead.

I think a little about it. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt…” At that she presses her lips to mine as she pulls my pants off.

My hand reaches out to her and pulls the tie of her robe loose before opening it and letting it slide off her shoulders, leaving her bare in front of me. She pushes me back to lay on the plush silk sheets of the bed.

•••

The white of my dress is contrasted to the greenery around me

The woman I once hated, who I thought would harm me

A life I once was accustomed to

Is the same woman who now stands before me in a white dress with pieces of her battle armor on

Of course.

A ceremony just for us, vows said in hushed whispers so that they are truly our own

An everlasting promise between two souls

Forged in blood and tenderness

Sealed with a kiss.

•••

I would never admit it but I have grown to be very fond of and love this cold, ruthless, warlord of mine.

[starbuck]

i don’t hold grudges, but i only let people break my trust once and not trusting someone is a relatively similar phenomenon.

[puthyflapps]

Swifties prove everyday that they’re the dumbest people on the internet and that’s really saying something cuz I’ve dealt directly with blarkes

[iwakuraz]

it'll all be okay because there's only one more day left in the school week and after that it'll be the weekend. wait no what do you mean after the weekend I'll just have to go back to school? what do you mean the cycle of going to school and coming back home completely worn out is gonna continue?

[quietwingsinthesky]

🌹:O

:3c

Lucifer doesn't care how the labcoats say it works; he knows there's no such thing as a clean break from a drift the minute the plug is pulled. Instead, Michael goes from a second consciousness beside his own to being dragged out of Lucifer the further Lucifer gets from him, both of them gripping tight to the connection until it slips, until it snaps, with a violent recoil that knocks Lucifer's brain out of alignment and reminds his legs that they don't work. His next step falls too fast, too heavily, and refuses to take his weight. It's only Michael, now only a voice outside of Lucifer's head yelling his name, catching him from behind that allows Lucifer to collapse to the floor with his dignity intact.

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[slythernnn]

Realizing how many things I have to do this month

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ THE FIRST FALL OF SNOW

Pro Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight in the public’s eye, is finally on his way home. The moment he clocked out, he was Bakugou Katsuki.

The apartment door swung open, and Bakugou trudged inside, every step weighed down by the exhaustion of the day. His back ached from the relentless action-packed hours at work (somehow, during the holidays, villains were at their peak action), and the chill of winter clung to his skin, even through the layers of his winter gear earlier. He’d been looking forward to collapsing onto the bed and shutting the world out for the rest of the night.

He let out a grunt of frustration, yanking his scarf off as he called out, “I’m home.”

Bakugou was greeted by your voice. Too chipper, as if you had something planned.

“Perfect timing! Go change into something warm; we’re going out!” you said, a spark of excitement lighting up your tired features. You had on your favorite scarf and coat, your cheeks flushed from the cold air that must’ve blown in while you’d been waiting for him.

Bakugou frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re kidding, right? It’s freezing, and I just got home.”

“I’m not kidding.” Your smile widened, undeterred by your husband’s gruffness. “You need to relax, and I need to check out the sale on the market. We’re going downtown, just for a little bit. Please?”

“No,” he scoffs.

“Come on, Katsuki,” you pleaded. “You’re always working, and I’ve been stuck inside all day. Just a quick trip downtown to relax. Please?” You pouted slightly as you repeated the request, though your tone remained playful, knowing it would chip away at his defenses.

“Can’t we relax here? You know, like normal people?”

“Normal is boring. We can relax after we go out and see the town. Please? I’ll make dinner when we get back!”

Dammit, you knew how to pull at his strings.

Bakugou groaned, tugging at the tight fabric of his jacket. He hated the cold, hated the thought of walking around aimlessly in weather that bit at his skin. But as he looked at you—your hopeful expression, the way your eyes sparkled with the promise of something simple yet special—he sighed, already knowing he couldn’t refuse.

Knowing he’d already lost, he crossed his arms. He’d always had a soft spot for you (you must’ve put a curse on him once he gave you his valid “I do” at the altar, he thinks), and no amount of exhaustion could override the tug in his chest when you looked at him like that.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you’re carrying the hot chocolate if we get any.”

Your grin was instant, and you tugged at his arm. “Deal. Now hurry up and get dressed into something warmer before I change my mind.”

---

The streets of Musutafu were already in the holiday spirit, and it was only the first of December. The glow of streetlights reflected off frosted windows, and the faint scent of roasted chestnuts wafted through the air—it was a scent to appreciate. Bakugou’s hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, his scarf pulled high over his face, as he grumbled every so often about the cold or his aching shoulders.

“This better be worth it,” he grumbled, kicking a stray piece of ice off the sidewalk.

“It is worth it,” you countered, practically skipping beside him. “You’ve been so stressed lately, and this is exactly what you need—some fresh air and a change of scenery.”

“I’d rather have fresh air from our bedroom.”

You shot him a playful glare. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, and you’re a pain,” he shot back, though his lips twitched upward just slightly.

It’s also a good thing that not many were wanting his autograph or a picture because Bakugou was not in the mood to entertain anyone aside from you.

You led him to a small square near the center of town, where festive decorations were strung across trees and lampposts. Children bundled up in cute, thick winter clothes ran around as their fits of giggles filled the air, and vendors sold warm snacks and drinks from cozy stalls. You tugged him toward one of the benches, your excitement bubbling over.

“Look at this place! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Bakugou looked around, taking in the bustling scene. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that it wasn’t half bad—but he’d never say it out loud. Instead, he just shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible to impress.”

“Not true,” he said, smirking slightly. “You impressed me.”

“Ok, sap,” you snorted, though you were quick to hide how it made you feel all giddy. “And did you know that—”

And Bakugou could only listen to you with his brows slightly knitted to an unamused expression, though he didn’t want to burst your bubble even if he was exhausted.

Without even noticing at first, the first snowflake fell, soft and delicate, landing on your scarf. You stopped mid-sentence, glancing up as more began to drift down, tiny, icy kisses from the sky. Bakugou paused too, his eyes narrowing as a flake landed on his nose.

“It’s snowing,” you murmured, a note of wonder in your voice.

Bakugou squinted up at the sky, unimpressed. “Great. Now it’s even colder.”

You ignored him, stepping slightly into the open square, your head tilted back as you let the snowflakes land on your hair and cheeks. Your face lit up with childlike wonder, and for a moment, Bakugou was suddenly reminded how lucky he was to be married to you.

Bakugou watched you silently, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. You looked radiant, the soft glow of the snow reflecting off your skin, your cheeks flushed from the cold. Your lips parted slightly as you caught a snowflake on your tongue, and you laughed softly at the sensation.

His chest tightened, his earlier complaints fading into nothing. The aches, the cold, his uncomfortable winter clothes—none of it mattered. All he saw was you.

You turned back to him, your smile warm and teasing. “You’re just going to stand there and sulk, or are you going to enjoy this with me?”

He huffed, walking toward you. “I’m not sulking,” he muttered.

“Sure, sure.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “Come on, Katsuki. Isn’t this beautiful?”

He looked at you, at the way your eyes shimmered with glee, the way you smiled despite the cold nipping at their noses. “Yeah,” he said softly, surprising even himself. He’s most likely referring to you rather than the scene before him, more likely. “It is.”

“Wait, are you actually admitting you like something?”

“So? I like you, and we’re married. It’s not that shameful to admit the obvious, dummy.” He grumbled, though his hand tightened around yours.

“Not that! I meant it’s snowing; isn’t it beautiful?”

“Could care less about shaved ice falling from the sky.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and Bakugou did the same, which made you laugh.

You two stood there for a while, watching the snow fall around you, the rest of the world fading into the background. For once, Bakugou wasn’t thinking about work, stress, or anything else. All he could focus on was the woman beside him and how, for the first time in a long time, everything felt just right.

And even though Bakugou still hated the cold, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, winter wasn’t so bad after all—because it meant moments like this. Moments with you.

It must’ve been Christmas magic to see you during the first fall of snow, taking his breath away with how you looked, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything this damned world had to offer.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅?

been watching criminal minds lately and this guy does things to me😩

summary - you think your boss hates you but maybe it’s something else…

warning - slight sexual innuendos/tension, feeling hated, mentions of slight violence.

18+ only please, the gif and divider I use isn’t mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You thought he hated you and you didn’t have a clue why. Whenever you entered the room, he always seemed to grow angry. Did he question your position on the team?

You walked into the BAU, coffee in hand and a tired expression on your face. You couldn’t count how many times your boss kept you up, the thoughts and conclusions about him nagged you throughout your day and night. You had dreams that he kept you up in other fun ways but the universe wasn’t with you on this.

“L/N.” You blink, zoning back in as you nearly bump into someone. Your gaze moves up, feeling your insides twist at the sight of that damned beard. “Is it that hard to watch where you are going? Or are you planning to knock everyone down as you go?”

You cleared your throat, clutching your coffee tighter. “No sir. I wasn’t paying attention, it won’t happen again.”

His glare somehow hardens, you couldn’t help but wonder how one man could make you feel so small when you’ve built yourself up to never feel small again. “It better not. We don’t need an agent to be zoning out when we are out in the field.”

Before you can respond, he turns and heads up to his office. You stare ahead, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

“You alright, Y/n?” You hum, seeing Derek standing in front of you.

“Yeah,” You nod. “Just can’t wait to get this day over with.” You sigh, shaking your head and walk with him.

You let out a breath, the case had finally been solved and you guys caught the killer. You groaned as you relaxed into the jet, your muscles screaming to be stretched and massaged, your eyes fighting to stay open but you didn’t want to let your guard down even with your team. Especially not when Hotch sat across from you, his eyes never seeming to leave your form.

You didn’t even let out a sigh of relief when the plane landed, you were so tired and you still had paperwork to do when you got back. With a groan, you followed everyone else, the one man that keeps you anxious making sure to stay behind you even though he had every chance to go before you. Your eyes rolled when you notice everyone else leave in one car, leaving you and Hotch to drive together.

You hop into the passenger seat, resting your head against the glass. Unable to relax with the strange tension in the air, your eyes moved as you watched the scenery pass by before the car finally came to a stop. Just as you’re about to get out, Hotch speaks.

“Agent. What you did was reckless.”

Your brows furrow, wondering what you had done? The unsub had tackled you? Or did you miss something?

“Coming to work exhausted and unfocused is not what is expected when you work on my team. You put your life and the team’s life at risk.”

You turn, a frown and glare on your face. “Are you serious, Hotch?” You shake your head, hand grabbing the door handle and letting the door swing open as you stepped out. Without another word, you slam the door behind you, sick and tired of being hated for no reason.

You gasp as you’re suddenly pulled back and pressed against the car, eyes immediately connecting with Hotch’s as he looms over you. His eyes dark, mouth set into a frown. His hand slowly moves to your throat, resting it there. “You didn’t let me finish.” Your thighs press together as you try to swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “I can’t be distracted with making sure you’re okay while we’re out in the field.”

You blink, trying to clear your mind as your brows furrow. “….What?”

Were you wrong this whole time?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[fear-is-truth]

wow i love the way you write nam-gyu! would you mind writing his attempt to make things right if he was given a second chance in a relationship? I’m basing this off of your last post with him where you said if he was given a second chance he would at least genuinely try. Have a great day! ❤️

NAM-GYU ❝ TRYING ❞ TO BE A GOOD BOYFRIEND. . .

content — gn!reader ・nam-gyu is still toxic & overall a shitty boyfriend・headcanons

a/n — i love this horrid man.

he starts overcompensating in small, almost pitiful ways. buying you gifts you didn’t ask for, running errands he wouldn’t have done before, doing the dishes without being asked. it’s as though he thinks he can earn your forgiveness through sheer persistence.

and it works because the bar is so low to begin with, it’s practically a tripping hazard in hell.

he’s not above love-bombing if it means keeping you. but it’s not entirely manipulative—there’s a small part of him that genuinely believes he can be better, even if he doesn’t know what that looks like.

he doesn’t like when you talk about the breakup. he’ll deflect, change the subject, or turn it into a joke. the idea of revisiting that time makes him feel pathetic, and he absolutely hates that.

keeps asking you if you’re happy. the question comes out of nowhere—he needs constant reassurance, like your happiness is the only proof he has that he’s not screwing this up again.

no matter how much he wants to try and fix things, he can’t completely shake the bitterness. deep down, he hates being the one begging for forgiveness. sometimes it slips out in muttered comments or passive-aggressive digs when he feels like he’s not being appreciated enough for trying.

gets this haunted look when you mention any moment from the time you were apart. it doesn’t matter if it’s innocent or unrelated to him—he’ll start overthinking it. where were you? who were you with?

paranoid about losing you again, and it shows in the way he checks your phone, asks too many questions about where you’ve been, or sulks when you spend time with other people.

if you call him out, he’ll switch gears fast. nam-gyu knows exactly what to say to deflect blame or make you second-guess your own feelings. he’s silver-tongued in a way that makes you want to forgive him, even when you know you probably shouldn’t.

despite his efforts, nam-gyu has a habit of reverting to old patterns. he gets frustrated when things don’t improve immediately and lashes out verbally. but as soon as he sees your hurt expression, he’s quick to backtrack, softening his tone and apologising—but the authenticity is up for debate.

there are sporadic bursts of effort. maybe he remembers a small detail you mentioned in passing and surprises you with it, or he takes you somewhere meaningful to “start fresh.” these moments feel real because, for a fleeting second, they are. but they’re often short-lived, drowned out by his issues.

he tries to hold back when you fight, but sometimes he just slips. the venom comes out before he can stop it, and the second he sees your face fall, he’s begging for forgiveness. the cycle exhausts you both.

tries to make up for his outbursts with affection. his hands are always on you—your waist, your wrist, the back of your neck. sure it’s possessive, but there’s a desperation to it too, because he’s trying to prove he still has a right to touch you.

there’s a subtle change in the way he looks at you now. before, there was always the arrogance of knowing you’d stick around no matter what. now, he’s bracing himself for the moment you’ll tell him it’s over for good.

he convinces himself that as long as you’re still there, things can get better. even if he doesn’t fully believe in his own ability to change, he holds onto the idea that you believe in him. it’s a crutch, one that keeps him from truly taking accountability but also keeps him trying—and he is. but there’s also a part of him that still believes he can’t fully change, that this is just who he is, and it’s up to you to decide if you can live with it.

[taojjang]

riize in an argument

pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: angst, warnings: cussing, jealousy, medication, lovebombing, (light) forced affection pink text > reader blue text > riize

part two here .ᐟ ★

♡⸝⸝ getting into petty arguments with your boyfriend

shotaro . . . can't understand why you don't trust him.

the two of you had just gotten home from a dinner date, which shotaro thought had gone well but apparently not. shotaro was confused as to why you were suddenly silent during the drive home. "are you tired, honey? you're not talking much." he figured you were just sleepy since you didn't respond, only quietly resting your head against the window.

after the two of you changed from your date clothes and unwound for the night, shotaro grew concerned. he could tell you were upset about something, but he couldn't tell what. he kept poking at you, reaching to pry at your silence. "did i upset you honey? did i say something wrong?" you took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed, finally deciding to come out of your silence. "i don't like how you were talking to the waitress." shotaro tilted his head and stepped closer to you. "what do you mean?" "you know what i mean, shotaro. you saw how she was looking at you. you were even giving in.. you flirted back." shotaro slightly furrowed his eyebrows and lightly held your hand. "what flirting, honey? i was only being nice to her." you began growing frustrated by how innocent he was acting. "you're just so oblivious sometimes, taro. you think i couldn't see the looks you were exchanging with her? she was all over you, you should've known her intentions." shotaro scoffed and let go of your hand. he felt quite hurt that he spent so much effort taking you out for a nice dinner just for you to accuse him of dedicating his time to another woman. "she was just being nice and i was returning her energy. you're just overanalyzing like you always do."

as soon as those words left shotaro's lips, your heart began to sting. taro's eyes softened as he realized what he'd said to you. you nodded and grabbed your pillow, standing up to leave. you kept silent knowing the ache in your throat would soon turn to tears. taro held your hand and tried pleading with you; "i didn't mean it like that honey, i just-" "no, it's fine." you pulled your wrist out of his weak grip and muttered a defeated "goodnight" before leaving to spend the night on the couch. once the door shut behind you, taro sat down on the bed and let out a shaky breath as he realized how much he'd just hurt you.

eunseok . . . can't tolerate your disobedience.

he was cleaning the bathroom when he saw your pill case sitting on the counter. he sighed and snatched the full case off of the counter, walking to the living room to confront you.

you sat confused as your boyfriend held the box of pills in your face. "hm..?" "darling, how many times do i have to tell you to take your medicine?" he sighed and looked down at the 3 days worth of forgotten pills in the tin. "i'm not your doctor, i can't keep reminding you. it's getting tiring." you sighed and threw your head back in frustration. this was a common thing for eunseok to bring up every so often, but it was getting exhausting. "then you don't have to keep reminding me, seok. i'm also tired of it." eunseok scoffed and bit his lip. "tired of what? me looking out for you?" you wanted to roll your eyes at his condescending tone. you always hated how arrogant he gets, thinking he's so much smarter than you and telling you off like you're a misbehaving toddler. "no, seok. i'm just tired of taking these stupid pills all the time. i'll live without them for a few days. i don't like it when you're bossy like this." eunseok bit his lip at your ungrateful tone grating at his ears. he looked down at you with a stern glare, squinting in annoyance. "making sure you're healthy is being bossy? you're being a brat, y/n. i wouldn't have to be 'bossy' if you listened to me and at least tried to get better. you're just lazy." you felt your blood boil as you poked your tongue through your cheek. you were far more than angry at this point. you looked up at him and huffed, "i'm not lazy for being sick of taking pills every day. all i want is for you to chill out and stop shoving pills in my face all the time. i'll be fine." eunseok sighed and nodded, tossing the case on the table in front of you. "alright, then. i'll stop caring so much. fuck, i can't stand you sometimes."

it's not rare for the two of you to get mean during arguments, but it is rare for eunseok to say something that hurts you this much. you didn't expect to feel your heart aching after simply choosing not to take your medication. despite wanting to snap back at him, all you could do was nod, snatching the pills off the counter and swallowing them in one go. even after saying something so blunt, eunseok couldn't help but worry about your sudden silence and compliance. you stood up and put the pill case into the pocket of your hoodie. you swallow back a mixture of frustrated insults and hurt tears as you look up at him with glossy eyes. "i'll leave you alone since you can't stand me so badly." you coldly walk past him to the front door, slamming it behind you. eunseok sighed and walked back to the bathroom, hoping to distract himself from the idea that he'd just crossed the line.

sungchan . . . can't tolerate your mood swings.

as much as he hates to admit it, you're hard to handle. no matter how well he treats you or how much he spoils you, you'll still come home and find a reason to be sad. but he can't understand that sometimes you just need time alone. you had a long day at work and simply wanted to come home and recharge, looking forward to lying down and maybe watching your comfort show. but sungchan had other plans for you. as much as you love him, it gets tiring to be suffocated with cuddles when you just need time alone. today, you couldn't suppress your discomfort. you just didn't expect sungchan to get so angry.

"my fault for wanting to comfort you when you're upset." sungchan let go of your waist and moved to the opposite side of your bed. you sighed and sat up, turning to him. "thank you, sungchan. i'm really not mad at you, i just need time alone sometimes." you tried reassuring him once you heard his pained tone, but to no avail. "you ever think i need comfort, too? i had a horrible day and you can't even hug me for a few minutes?" for a second, you thought he was joking. but once you saw the angered expression on his face, your smile dropped. "baby, are you serious? i had a shitty day, too. all i need is some time alone. why are you taking it so personally?" "because it feels personal, y/n. you're pushing me away when i was just trying to make you feel better." you felt almost sickened by how ridiculous he sounded. you've already had a terrible day and you certainly weren't in the mood to argue. "that's not what i mean, sungchan, and you know it. all i'm asking is to be alone." sungchan seemingly felt the same way, leaving one last message before avoiding the conflict. "fine, didn't know i bothered you so much. don't bother coming to me later."

sungchan stormed out of the room. soon, the echo of his bedroom door slamming shut rang through the house. though you got what you wanted, your bed began feeling empty. you wanted to sleep it off, but the guilt now felt heavier than your fatigue.

wonbin . . . can't fathom the idea of losing.

wonbin is so adorably whiny. so adorable that you like to tease him just to hear him cry "stop it!" you admit to being a little too harsh sometimes when he gets frustrated with you, but you can't help yourself. wonbin is just too cute :( when the two of you play games, he's always whining about losing. if he's winning, he'll be giggling and having the time of his life— but god forbid it's the opposite.

"ah, this is getting annoying!" wonbin whined, moving farther from the table. you laughed and gestured at the pile of cards in front of you. "your turn! come on, at least try to beat me!" wonbin sighed and tossed another card on the table. before he knew it, your cards were almost used up and you were this close to winning the game. "this isn't fun anymore." wonbin groaned, leaning back with a pout on his face. you sighed and joked, "baby, you're always complaining. such a sore loser!" but something about your teasing ticked wonbin off. his sulky demeanor soon turned bitter and he gave you a resentful glare. "i wouldn't have to complain if you didn't get all cocky every time you won. you never give me a chance." wonbin's whiny complaints were beginning to get to you. you felt as if he was blaming you for his losses. "i'm just playing the game. it's not my fault i'm good at it." you immediately regretted your defense when the deck of cards were slammed onto the table in front of you. "gosh, i fucking get it y/n." wonbin stood up and stormed off, mumbling "this is why i can't do anything with you."

you felt your heart tear at his empty-hearted words. with the slam of his bedroom door, your tears began falling down your face. you never thought a simple card game would drive wonbin to this level of annoyance. you stood up and put the cards back into the box while considering whether to apologize or leave him be. you stand in front of his bedroom door, hesitantly muttering through your shaky breath, "i'm gonna go home now." you stood there like an idiot waiting for a reply, but you heard nothing other than the tapping of your tears dripping onto the hardwood floor.

seunghan . . . can't understand why his affection hurts you.

it's rare for the two of you to argue since seunghan travels extra lengths to make sure you're happy. after all, you're his entire world and he'd give up anything to keep you satisfied. but that's why so many problems go unanswered. whenever there's an issue between the two of you, seunghan just tugs you into a hug and tries to take your mind off of your frustration while the problem sits in the dust.

"it's called love bombing," you explain to seunghan, who was staring at you with confused yet hurt eyes. "i know you're just trying to make me happy, but it's bringing up so many more problems than we need, love." seunghan looked down at your hands and furrowed his eyebrows. "well, how? does my affection not fix anything? wouldn't you rather cuddle than argue all night?" you sighed and bit your lip in frustration. seunghan had expected you to agree, but his heart began hurting once you shook your head. "that's the problem, seunghan. making up without resolving anything is only making things worse for us. you need to talk to me, love. i can't keep kissing you to forget how hurt i am." seunghan felt all of his efforts go to waste. he'd truly hoped his affection could mend every rift between you two, but he was mistaken. seunghan picked up his phone from the bed and stood up. "i'm sorry, y/n. i just thought maybe my love would be enough to fix things."

seunghan turned around and made his way to the bedroom door, utilizing every ounce of strength in him to refrain from kissing you goodnight. "i promise i'll work on communicating, just... not yet. i don't know if i can speak to you right now. goodnight." seunghan left feeling shattered and simply exhausted from the confrontation. though you'd finally been able to address a longstanding issue, you felt everything but relief. now, both you and your crushed boyfriend wouldn't sleep a wink.

sohee . . . can't understand the concept of distance.

these past few days, sohee's noticed how different you've been acting. you've been coming to his house less and when he'd visit you, your attention was never completely his. worried, sohee brought up his concern to you, you brushing it off and telling him it's exam season, you've just been super drained from school. it all started to make sense, but that didn't solve any of his concerns. if anything, he was even more worried for your wellbeing, wondering how you could care for yourself if you don't even have the time to sit and talk with him for more than 10 minutes. so he began coming over more often to take care of you and keep your house tidy while you worked hard on your laptop. all of this hard work, yet you wouldn't let him sleep over.

"what..? why can't i?" sohee asked, hand frozen reaching for the pajamas he'd brought. "i'm just so exhausted, baby, i'm sorry. maybe you could sleep over when my exams are all finished..?" sohee was confused. he started to believe you weren't tired of the exams, but him. you noticed the sullen look forming on his face. you place your hand on his cheek and sent him a reassuring yet weak smile. "it's nothing personal, alright? i'm just tired." you'd expected sohee to understand, but his eyes shot up to you with an unfamiliar dark glint in them. "but you're making it personal, y/n. you can't even look at me when i'm beside you, not even for a second. are you tired of your work or me?" your heart rate began rapidly rising as sohee grew more and more frantic. "what makes you think i'm tired of you? i told you, i'm just tired. i want to rest alone, is that so terrible? i'm only-" "you don't have to keep making up excuses. i'll leave if you want me to but i'm not gonna let you lie to my face. stop sugarcoating it and tell me, y/n, you're just tired of me, aren't you?" you wanted to tell him he was wrong; he was the only escape you had from your excruciatingly repetitive schedule, yet he only believed you wanted to get rid of him. you tried to explain your feelings, yet all you could manage to do was scream, "you're not listening to me!" sohee scoffed at your sudden yelling. he bit his lip and picked up his bags, muttering, "there's nothing to listen to. there's no excuse you can make for not wanting anything to do with me."

you panicked as sohee left the room. you wanted to explain to him that he was completely mistaken and he was all you needed, but he wouldn't let you speak. you sighed as the front door slammed shut, the cold air leaking inside and stinging your tear-stained cheeks.

anton . . . can't let go of even the smallest slip-ups.

don't get me wrong— anton is the most forgiving boyfriend in the world. he could still smile and give you a goodnight kiss even if you ate the leftovers he'd been saving for dinner. but small things you do can lead him to make drastic assumptions about your relationship. last night, you were so exhausted that you'd forgotten to say your nightly "i love you" before hanging up on him. of course, you love him to death, but you were simply so tired after the horrible day you'd had that it'd slipped your mind since all you could think about was your bed. while you were knocked out cold, anton was sitting with his knees pressed against his chest, wondering if he'd done something wrong to not deserve an i-love-you. your poor baby is just a chronic overthinker.

"do you still love me..?" anton asked, sitting beside you on your bed while gently holding your hand. you let out a sleepy giggle, slowly nodding. "of course i do, silly. what makes you ask?" anton swallowed back his uncertainty and explained, "i don't know... you just didn't say 'i love you' last night before you hung up. i thought maybe i did something wrong." you let out a long sigh and stroked the back of his hand with your thumb. "that means nothing, dummy. i was just so tired, i'm sorry. i love you, okay?" things should've ended here, but anton just could not brush off his insecurity. "but you didn't say it..! it's such a normal thing now, how could you forget to say it? do you really not love me anymore?" anton was deeply hurt that you forgot such a crucial part of your regular routine with him, but you didn't realize how important this was to him. it only hurt to know all of your efforts to make him happy were blown away by this minuscule mistake. you'd been so busy and stressed with how packed your schedule was. nevertheless, you still tried your hardest to make time for your boyfriend. yet this one mistake lead him to believe you had no love for him. you were beyond frustrated. "i've been trying so hard to make sure you feel loved, anton. i keep in contact with you all day no matter how occupied i am and i still find time to cook dinner for you while i still have shitloads of homework waiting for me. how do i not love you?" anton was taken aback by the intimidating change in tone. your sudden anger only worsened his anxious overthinking. but of course, he remained avoidant. anton let go of your hand and nodded, looking down at his hand. "i'm really sorry, y/n. i didn't mean to make you angry. goodnight, love you."

you didn't realize your anger had scared him off until he left your room with tears in his eyes. regret pooled in your stomach and you began feeling sick. nothing hurt more than seeing that inconsolable look on your baby's face. tears made their way to your eyes as your mind traced the idea that you were the worst girlfriend you could possibly be.

—

(a/n: my first time writing angst..! i hope this was okay... it hurts so much writing angst without a happy ending :( if you're like me and need closure after every angst you read, there's a part two coming! do not fret my sensitive sisters 🙂‍↕️)

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and saw that your requests were open so I thought I’d shoot this over. If you don’t vibe with it don’t worry about skipping it. I was wondering if I could request a James x reader where they are living together and definitely love each other but they’ve kind of slipped into a roommate phase. Like they’re just living around each other and reader starts feeling insecure and scared and doesn’t know how to get back into normalcy. Maybe a little angsty with some fluff at the end

Thanks lovely!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.4k words

When James comes in the front door, his shoes squelch. You look him up and down, dripping wet and mud caked up to his knees. You wince. 

“Rough practice?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” James says, dropping his bag by the door and heading for the kitchen. 

There’s an exhausted slump to his shoulders, and his shoes leave a muddy trail of footprints, and you hate to do it, but—

“Would you mind taking off your shoes?” 

“Oh.” James looks down. You see him follow the trail with his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You hate yourself as soon as it’s out of your mouth, because that’s exactly the sort of thing you’d say if it wasn’t fine. And yeah, you’re a bit peeved that he’d track mud inside after you’d mopped the floors just yesterday, but you know he wasn’t thinking about it and you’d promised yourself just this morning that you were going to be nicer to him and now he’s sitting on the floor looking like his day is getting worse instead of better. 

You try again. 

“Um, I made dinner.” You step over him awkwardly, setting a hand on his head to help yourself. James doesn’t shrink from the touch, but he doesn’t lean into it like you could swear he used to either. The stove turns off like it’s relieved to do it, having idled for close to a half hour while you waited for James to get home. You wanted to try and eat together tonight; you used to do it all the time, but lately you’ve been having too many couch dinners by your lonesome. “Macaroni and cheese, is that alright?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You jolt a little at James’ hand on your back as he reaches around you for a bowl, and he looks at you, lips quirking like you’re funny. 

You find yourself smiling back by muscle memory, a reflex almost forgotten. It lifts your heart. 

“So, how was practice?” 

James glances up at you, then goes back to filling his bowl. “I’ve already told you,” he says. “Rough.” 

“Oh, right.” You huff out a little laugh. He passes you the spoon, and you take it without really looking at him. “Sorry.” 

His answering smile is weaker this time. More a press of his lips than anything. 

“Don’t be.” He kisses you on the cheek, then goes, pulling out his chair at the table. 

You take your seat, too. A lot of these base routines have begun to feel empty lately. They used to be an assurance for you, like if you always wore your same paths into the carpet you’d become so entrenched in this house, in James’ house, that neither he nor it could ever let you leave. You loved knowing that if he was back from his run when you woke up in the morning, there’d be a glass of orange juice waiting for you on the counter. That when the flowers on your kitchen table started to wilt you’d come home to a fresh bunch, and that if you called and told him you were having a bad day lunch from your favorite sandwich shop would miraculously show up at your work. Those things used to make your heart feel full to bursting, because they meant he was thinking of you. 

Now you’re not sure what they mean. They seem like things James does because he’s supposed to, like part of a script, a routine. Chores. 

As soon as he’s sat down, he’s digging into his dinner. James eats like a boy. Wolfing, like someone’s going to take it away from him. You hope it means he likes it. 

“What’d you do today, m’love?” he asks through a mouthful.

And see, he says things like that. Calls you his love, asks about your day. It’s all started to fall flat. You know he’ll take whatever answer you give him, because you’ve begun to suspect he doesn’t really care. 

“Nothing crazy,” you answer honestly. “Shayna’s baby came early, so I’m taking on a bit more at work until they can find someone to fill in for her. So that’s a bit stressful, but it’s not awful.” 

“Mm.” James nods, but doesn’t offer more than that. His mouth seems to be perpetually full. 

You fork a macaroni noodle, pretending you have more appetite than you do. Truthfully, you’ve felt weird and off and vaguely nauseous all day. 

Last night had been a bit of a breaking point for you. It came on rather suddenly. You’d gone to bed long after James, but you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from him, the way the moonlight snuck in through the slats in your blinds to fall across his sleeping face. He was so beautiful, and you loved him so much you didn’t know what to do with it all, and then you were crying. 

You’d wept silently, wishing James would wake up, but you were unwilling to rouse him and he wasn’t going to do it himself. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep with your pillowcase damp and cold under your cheek and woke to find James’ side of the bed empty as usual. Orange juice on the counter. 

“I was wondering if you might want to watch a film tonight,” you say lightly. “I saw they’ve put that sci-fi one you like back on Netflix.” 

“Ah, have they really?” James swallows, forks another bite. “Wish I could, but I’m supposed to meet everyone at Spoons in a few minutes here.” 

Oh. The realization hits you like a dull thud, smack in the center of your chest. He’s not eating quickly because he likes your food; it’s because he wants to leave. 

“Can’t you stay here?” Your voice is small. James looks at you like he’s not sure what to make of it. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He offers you a smile. His fork clinks in the bottom of an empty bowl, and his chair screeches as it’s pushed back. James brushes his lips across your cheek as he goes by. “We’ll have to do it this weekend, though, definitely.” 

You know by now these sorts of promises aren’t meant to keep. They come written in disappearing ink.

He heads upstairs to change, and desperation grips you. It forgets he’ll be home later and puts you hot on his heels, your own dinner left on the table barely touched. 

“Jamie, wait.” He pauses with his shirt half off, looking over at you in the doorway of your bedroom. “Don’t you feel like we’ve not had much time together lately?” you ask. 

The plea is naked in your tone, and James’ eyes soften. He tugs his shirt off, straightens his glasses.

“I haven’t had time for much of anything lately,” he says, shrugging good-naturedly. 

It’s true. He’s been busy. His new coach seems to think the team has nothing but time, and as captain James is expected to commit even more than most. When he’s not at training, he’s keeping fit on his own or running errands for his mum or sleeping it all off in your bed. 

“But you should come tonight,” James goes on brightly. “Dorcas and Marlene will be there, it’ll be fun.” 

He tosses his clothes in the laundry bin and makes his way over to the dresser. You cross your arms, then uncross them. Parse your words. “I don’t…I just feel like you hung out with your friends last night.” 

“You could’ve come then, too,” he says, stepping into a pair of jeans. “They all love you, you know that.” 

“I don’t want to hang out with your friends.” It comes out sharper than you intend, though still less sharp than the look James gives you. He’s finished getting dressed but doesn’t make to leave. “That’s not what I mean. I like your friends, but it’s not…the same as spending time with you. It doesn’t count, for me.” Your voice softens on the last two words, knowing that for James, it might very well count. 

For him, you’ve gathered, social time is social time. So long as you’re there, he’ll feel just as connected to you as if you were curled up on the couch together having a private conversation. You wish your brain worked the same way, but it doesn’t. 

He’s looking at you with something like trepidation now, so you state it plainly. 

“I really miss you, Jamie.” A blockage rises in your throat. You swallow it back down. “I feel like…I don’t know what’s going on with us lately.” 

“We’re the same as we have been.” He looks confused, worse when your face pinches painfully. 

“And that’s all?” You try to blink them away, but tears burn in your eyes. “This is just what we do now?” 

“No.” James looks appalled, but you catch the quick glance he gives to the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s only for now, just until the season’s over and Coach mellows out. Where’s this coming from?” 

You blink hard, angling your head away from him. “Nothing, sorry. I’m just being emotional.” Your breath scrapes on the way in. You pretend it doesn’t. “It’s okay if you have to go.” 

He shakes his head, and when you start back towards the stairs anyway, he says, “No, come on.” In a few long strides, he’s got your elbow. He tugs you gently back into the room. “Let’s sit down, okay? What’s going on?” 

“Sorry.” Your voice is pitchy and tight. You think you hear James inhale softly before he’s drawing you into a hug. It doesn’t feel quite like it used to, but it’s still warm, still nice. 

He sits you both down on the edge of your bed, arms still wrapped loosely around you. “What are you sorry for, baby?” 

“I was going to try not to make your life harder today,” you laugh wetly, pulling back from him to swipe under your eyes. 

“You don’t make my life harder,” James says, somewhere near to dismayed as he slides his hand to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t.” 

You give him a look meant to say, Oh, come on, but you’re not sure how it comes off with your face blotchy and snot starting to run from your nose. You take in a big breath.  

“I think I’ve made it harder more than I’ve made it easier lately,” you admit, looking at your bedcover and also at nothing at all. “I didn’t even really realize until recently, but I’ve just felt so…disconnected from you lately. It’s like even when you’re here, I’m just around you and not with you, and—” Your voice catches. You inhale again. “And I know you’re really busy, but I’m just trying to find ways to fix it.” 

James’ hand drops from your shoulder, into his lap, and you lift your gaze. He looks crestfallen. “What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly, his own voice starting to sound raw. “I can’t control these things. And we live together, I see you all the time. It doesn’t seem fair to ask me not to see my mates.” 

“I’m not asking you to do that.” You’re horrified. “But that’s just it, Jamie, it’s like we only live together anymore. Saying hi when you come in, waving when you go back out, those don’t count as quality time for me. And I wish I could get the same feelings from being in a big group that you do, but I can’t.” 

James looks at you helplessly. You shrug, just as powerless. 

“I know it’s not your fault,” you tell him. A tear drips off your chin. “I don’t know what to do, either. I just want you to know that I’m trying, okay?” 

James nods for a minute. Thoughtful, heartbroken. He lets out a big breath. Your arms come around each other at almost the same time, so in sync you can’t be sure who reaches for the other first. You’re trying not to get snot on his fresh shirt, but he palms the back of your head, pressing your face to his shoulder. 

“Okay,” he says quietly. “You’re right, we should both be trying more. I think I’ve let myself get so overwhelmed that I’m not…I’m almost not even thinking throughout the day, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this by yourself.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, and a little laugh rumbles through James’ chest. He hugs you tighter. 

“It is a little bit, though, isn’t it? I haven’t been paying attention. But okay, let’s make a plan for now.” His hand splays out between your shoulder blades, and you clutch at the material of his shirt, both of you wordlessly trying to get closer as if you can make up for lost time. “Come with me tonight, please.” You go still, but James goes on, “I know it’s not a solution, but I can’t back out and I’d really feel so much better if you were there. Please, angel. And tomorrow, we’ll stay in and watch something. Not a film only I like,” he gives your back a teasing little squeeze, “but something we can both enjoy. Or we can just talk, or play a game, I don’t care. Tomorrow is our night, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sniff, nodding and pulling away slightly so you can wipe your face. James joins in, pinching your nose clean for you and wiping the snot on his jeans carelessly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to clear my busy schedule.” 

He smiles. It’s like the sun beaming through clouds. “I’d appreciate that. Really hard to get ahold of you these days.” You let out a little laugh, and his grin spreads. “Good. So that’s for now, and at training on Friday I’m going to talk to Coach about cutting down on our hours.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “Jamie, you don’t have to—” 

“I do,” he says. “I’ve been a wuss about it, but everyone on the team is miffed and it’s really my job to handle it. Coach doesn’t know everything yet, so I can at least give him some advice about how we operate best.” 

James palms the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and meeting you halfway. His forehead presses against yours. 

“I’m really glad you said something. Thanks for being the smart one, as usual.” Your smile is small at first, but James nudges his nose against yours until it blooms in full. “We’re gonna make it better, okay?” 

You swallow thickly. “Okay. Thanks, Jamie.” 

“Don’t thank me.” His voice takes on a tender quality, and you push your forehead into his. He palms your cheeks in response, stamping his lips to your forehead. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you, too.” 

That was never up for debate.