#it has been hellish on me and my coworkers all week

[madness-of-void]

Hey, universe? Quick question:

What in the fuck is going on this week?

[ugh-yoongi]

your hand is touching mine and i can't stop myself from taking it & Yoongi

thank you for the request! i've had this sitting in my drafts forever, so it gave me an excuse to finish it (and why it's so long dgkjd one day i will learn what a drabble is). i hope you enjoy it. <3

i call this yoongi's romantic comedy of errors.

pairing: yoongi x f. reader

genre: friends to lovers, miscommunication, fluff/comedy

warnings: reader is taehyung's sister, they're coworkers, yoongi is really bad at asking people out on dates someone pls help our boy, some swearing. this was long and i was too lazy to edit it, so if you see any mistakes no you didn't.

wordcount: 2100

taking valentine's day drabble requests here ♡

Yoongi reaches for his wallet, cheeks aching from hours spent laughing.

He’s glad he did this—took a chance, asked you out properly. There’s none of the usual awkwardness that comes along with nights out, none of the dread of having to turn someone down, none of the guilt. No, this had gone well. Better than he ever could’ve imagined, and instead of preparing his trademark I had a great time, but… speech, he’s trying to figure out how to ask you out again without being a floundering, incompetent mess.

But then you reach for your wallet, too, and Yoongi—

“What are you doing?” he laughs, aiming for casual.

It works. You laugh softly, quirking an eyebrow. “Getting my card so we can split the bill.”

The words are out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. “What? I can’t let you pay on a—”

Everything comes to a screeching halt. A record-scratch moment. Because he finally figures out what’s going on, sees the way your eyes widen in panic at Yoongi calling this a date. Surely, he’d been clear enough when he asked you to dinner. He had to have been. He distinctly remembers wearing his best shirt into the office that day. He’d even worn the expensive cologne—the one he’d carefully rationed because you’d complimented it before and he didn’t want it to run out before he got a chance to use it properly.

No, he couldn’t have been that dumb. Still—he wracks his brain, tries to remember how he’d worded it, except now he’s in survival mode and everything’s coming up blank. So he does the only thing he can think of—“I can’t let you pay for your birthday dinner.”—and lies.

What a fucking idiot.

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, like you’re talking to the idiot he most definitely is. “My birthday isn’t for another four months.”

The laugh he forces out can only be described as a hellish witch cackle. “I know that,” he insists, “but I just figured why not, you know! Who says you can’t take your friends to birthday dinners four months early?”

You’re nearly stunned into silence. “But this isn’t even our traditional birthday dinner restaurant.”

“I wanted to try something new,” he answers, even though it comes out more like a question. He had wanted to try something new, and look where that’s gotten him. “Hoseok said this place was nice.”

“Yeah, but Hoseok’s been with his partner for eighty years.”

Yoongi’s laugh is pained, now. No more witch cackle, just the dying wheezes of a man running out of excuses and time. One of his favorite things about you is how smart and unwilling to put up with bullshit you are. A week ago, he never would’ve entertained being on the receiving end of it, but now it’s all he can do to tread water. “Oh, really?” he asks, playing stupid. “I didn’t think this place had, like, partner vibes.”

“There’s a little candle on the table,” you deadpan. “There’s a woman in the corner playing a violin. It absolutely has partner vibes.”

“Maybe I just wanted to splurge?”

Your stare is pointed, gaze full of suspicion. “Did you, now.”

There’s a moment where the light breaks through the clouds. Clarity, and Yoongi doesn’t make the same mistake twice. You’re not buying anything he’s selling, so he’s not going to force it. This wasn’t a date for you. He’ll tuck his tail between his legs and take the loss, and it’ll hurt, sure, and it’ll be one of those things that keeps him up at night years into the future, the embarrassment agonizing, but keeping your friendship intact is more important.

So he just sighs. Hands your credit card back to you and ignores your protests. “Of course I did,” he answers. Tries handing the envelope with just his card inside to a passing waiter, but you throw your arm into the aisle to stop him.

“Quit playing with me and tell me what’s going on,” you snap. “You’re being weird and I don’t like it.”

The waiter side-steps your arm and says, “Please unhand me, ma’am.”

(God, Yoongi’s going to have to triple his tip.)

“Shut up, Taehyung, I’m not even touching you.”

(Quadruple it, by the looks of it.)

Taehyung just sighs. “Fuck you, dude. I didn’t bother you the entire time you were on your date, and now you wanna mess with me when I’m just trying to cash out and go home.”

Yoongi says—“Oh, do you know him?”

—at the same time you say, “He’s my broth—what do you mean my date?”

Taehyung looks at you the way you’d looked at Yoongi. “Do you know where you are right now?”

You snap your fingers. “Because it has partner vibes, right?”

“Definitely has partner vibes,” Taehyung agrees. “There’s little candles on the tables.”

You turn to Yoongi. “I told you!” All he can do is shrug. Candles aren’t really his thing, mostly just ambiance, so what does he know.

Taehyung looks between the two of you, clearly running numbers in his head. How to not lose his tip, probably, or maybe envisioning what Yoongi would be like as a brother-in-law. No, wait—

“Okay, I’m gonna go. This is really weird and you’re both very stupid. Bye.”

You roll your eyes. “Yoongi’s just—”

“I literally do not care who my sister is dating! It’s none of my business!” Taehyung calls over his shoulder, much to Yoongi’s horror and the dismay of the rest of the patrons.

Once he’s gone, the two of you sit in awkward silence. He’s surprised you’re sticking around. The night has turned into an absolute shitshow, and Yoongi wouldn’t blame you a bit for leaving, though the fact that you haven’t has him hesitantly optimistic. Maybe he can salvage this, figure out a way to explain the miscommunication in a way that doesn’t sound condescending, because I’m sorry I thought I asked you out properly makes you sound like a dunce who can’t comprehend when they’re being asked out properly.

What a mess.

It’s not until Taehyung returns with his card, he’s tipped 50%, and he’s moving to put on his jacket do you speak. “Was he right?”

“Your brother?” Yoongi asks reflexively. You nod and his palms get all sweaty. “Um. I’m not really sure how to answer that.”

You snort. “Honestly, for a start.”

“I—okay,” he acquiesces. “Maybe not here, though. People are still staring and it’s making me want to throw up.”

The two of you move to his car. He turns it on and lets it idle, turns on your seat warmer and the heat because it’s cold outside and he’s already sweating buckets so what difference does it make. He’s got the anxiety shakes, anyway. And it’s not lost on him that this is new, too. Before, the two of you always met up in the city. Separate cars, separate ways. He’d picked you up tonight. Right at seven, just like he’d said, so he can’t figure out where everything had gone sideways.

“Okay, I’m just gonna—I did think this was a date,” he says. Feels good to get it out there, he supposes, but the way your jaw drops doesn’t make him feel too great.

You snap it shut. “Oh. Okay.”

He picks at his dress pants. He knows the fabric is expensive but not what it is. The salesperson at the store said it was one of their best and the charge on his card confirmed it. He’d bought three-million won pants for a date and he’d managed to fuck it all up. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Huh? What d’you mean for what. For thinking it was a date when it wasn’t.”

Friendships have survived worse, right? There’s a guy who works with both of you who divorced his wife of ten years and they still go on vacations together all the time, so the two of you are going to be fine. Shit, would Yoongi be able to go to Saint-Tropez with you after a divorce? That’s some heavy shit. That’s almost insane, he thinks. Does he have that kind of maturity? Is it maturity? The guy works in the communications department, so maybe he’s just… good at that? Maybe Yoongi should’ve asked him for some pointers.

“Can I just ask,” you start, and it’s the way you turn in your seat, angling your body towards him, that activates his fight-or-flight. Yoongi’s anxiety is not built for this kind of confrontation. Not at all. “What made you think it was a date?”

“My pants are three-million won,” he blurts out.

“You thought this was a date because… you’re wearing expensive pants?”

He groans. Bonks his head against the steering wheel and nearly has a heart attack when the horn beeps, far too loud for this parking garage. “No, it’s not just the pants. I thought I’d been very clear when I asked you to dinner that it was, like, a date. And then I almost said that and you looked really panicked, like you’d rather be buried alive, so I lied and said it was a birthday dinner even though it obviously wasn’t, and then your brother—and, yeah. I don’t know. Clearly I’m not as good at this as I thought I was.”

“Okay, first of all: yikes.” Yoongi nearly wails. “Secondly: Yoongi, you said you don’t date coworkers! Why the hell would I have thought this was a date?”

“In my defense, I said that a long time ago.”

“And never rescinded it!” you argue back. “Why would I think that’d changed?”

“Well—because!” Your stare is blank. “Because I picked you up—”

“I told you my car is in the shop three days ago—”

“And I’m pretty sure when I asked, I said, do you want to go to dinner with me—”

“Sure,” you concede, “as friends! We always go to dinner together!”

“But…” He sighs, runs his hands down his face. Might as well rip off the bandaid. “My pants.”

“Yoongi, all of your pants are expensive. You make an ungodly amount of money a year.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” he tries again.

You groan. “Yeah, and I’m supposed to give you a gift.” You run your hands over your face, and it’s really stupid, Yoongi thinks, because you’re wearing makeup. Did you always wear makeup when the two of you went to dinner? He can’t remember. He knows “no makeup” makeup is a thing, so he’s not all that confident he could tell what is and isn’t makeup, and it hits him for the millionth time this evening how bad he is at this.

“Look,” you continue, “let’s just… go somewhere else.”

“Maybe you should pick, since…” He gestures vaguely at himself.

You nod. “Yeah, good idea. That new ice cream place is close. We could go there.”

Yoongi glances out the window. It’s cold outside. A little gray, too, so it’s probably going to snow, considering it’s the middle of February and it’s been unseasonably cold, even for winter. But it’s not an outright rejection. It’s your idea, and if he dares to think it, the look you’re giving him is hopeful. He’s sure the wires in his brain will overheat and start crackling at the mere thought of you wanting to spend more time with him, so he’s agreeing before he can think twice. If his fucking pants are three-million won, they better keep him warm.

He doesn’t know what to do once you’re out of the car. Does he try to hold your hand? Does he loop his arm through yours? Throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you against his side? He’s already ten steps behind. He’s got a few centimeters on you, but your legs are longer, and it’s a little embarrassing, the hurried waddle he does to catch up. And he must sidle up too close, because your hand brushes against his.

Still warm, even though it’s going to snow. Even though you aren’t wearing gloves. All he can think is that the two of you are on your way to some new ice cream place because you wanted to go there, even though he’s put you through the ringer tonight, so he exchanges his stupidity for bravery. Closes in a little more, smiles when you look up at him and cock an eyebrow.

Because your hand is brushing against his, and he can’t stop himself from taking it.

For the first time all night, he knows it’s the right move when you smile.

[freesia-writes]

Free, I’ve missed you so much!!! I saw that you reblogged some first kiss prompts, so if I may be so bold as to request

the uncontrollable smile they break into either after or during the kiss itself

with my love, Jesse 💙💙

Hihihihi! Thank you so much; I’ve missed you as well! I hope this is a tasty little treat for ya, haha. :D

Jesse x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Rated PG-13 for suggestiveness and alcohol tomfoolery. ;)

I have to include this picture of him because... well hot damn. No need to explain.

You’d been having the night of your life. After a hellish week at work, full of unreasonable expectations and incompetent coworkers, you’d finally made it to the bar with your friends. The jovial nature of 79s was infectious, and it felt so good to let your guard down and just have fun for once. You’d danced, had a drink, played a hologame that you swore was rigged, and now were crammed into a booth with a whole horde of happy patrons. 

A hand lightly touched your knee under the table, bringing your attention back to the conversation you’d been having. Your friend was always raving about the 501st, and now they were here on shore leave. She hadn’t been wrong – you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. From the hilarious quips and razor-sharp wit to the exhilarating stories punctuated with flirtatious comments, they were a constant good time. 

“Jesse!” you answered triumphantly, watching the Republic cog move as his eyes crinkled in a smile. It made your pleasant tingly state feel even more effervescent. “Ha! You said I wouldn’t remember!” 

“I said I bet you wouldn’t remember it tomorrow,” he laughed, patting your knee and withdrawing his arm. “See, you already forgot.”

“I’m not just gonna bang you and write you off as another fun night,” you said with mock sternness. “I’m not that kind of person – I’m going to get to know and appreciate every glorious nuance of who you are, and the one and only Jesse shall live on in my mind, untarnished and glorious…forevermore!” You clapped a hand to your mouth, giggling at your own profundity as well as the way his eyebrows had risen higher and higher with each ridiculous word. 

“That’s quite poetic,” he conceded, lifting an arm to wrap it around your shoulders, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “But uh… you’re gonna bang me?” he asked with a roguish grin, tilting his head and gazing at you with impossibly large puppy-dog eyes. 

“That’s yet to be seen,” you answered coyly, and he laughed again, leaning back against the booth cushion as he took another sip of his drink. 

“Fair enough,” he said, setting the glass down. “But I’m warning you… If you get back on the dance floor with me, you’re not gonna want to go home alone.” 

“Ooohhh, them’s fightin’ words!” You were half teasing, half aroused with a shiver of anticipation at his playful confidence. “You must think pretty highly of yourself!”

“Not at all,” he said with a completely straight face. Only the glint in his eyes belied his mischief. “I’m only speaking from experience.” With a wink and a shove of the clone next to him, he was scooting out of the bench seat and pulling you along with him. You laughed, clambering to your feet as he held your hand steadily. “I’m giving you one last chance to flee back to safety,” he purred, leaning in close to your ear and making your heart skip a beat.

“Karking hell,” you blurted out, “You’re ridiculous…ly hot.” He threw his head back with an elated guffaw, and the next thing you knew, he’d led you to the most packed corner of the bar where bodies of all shapes, sizes, and species bumped and grinded to the endless thump of the bass that barely changed from song to song. It didn’t matter – the cacophony of noise, the myriad of neon lights, and the fuzzy tipsiness brought on by a few drinks all created an atmosphere of letting go and enjoying the simple pleasures of life. 

He put a hand on your waist, stepping in close and gracing you with a whiff of his scent – something clean and fresh, almost too heavily-applied, sweetened by the hint of sweat and heat. It was intoxicating. When you leaned in, pressing your body against his and laying a hand on his shoulder, there was no doubt where your mind was going. He was built. Confident. Hilarious. And somehow not off-putting at all. You’d enjoyed your conversation earlier, being equally enamored with his wit as well as his insight. 

The song shifted, and with a gentle lead, he turned you around to pull you up against his front, sliding both arms around your waist and settling them on your hips. Or just slightly below. You moved together to the rhythm, your own hands finding his arms as you swayed. He nuzzled against your neck, yelling something over the music that made you laugh, and you reached an arm up, arching your back to wrap it around his neck and pull him close. The low hum he made in your ear sent a warmth blossoming between your legs, and you bit your lip. Kriff, he hadn’t been lying. The way his war-hardened body was able to move so effortlessly with your own left little to the imagination about what he might be like in other scenarios. 

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the music, the moment… (heheh)... the feeling of his chest against your back, his hips against your ass… You could swear you felt more there too, but maybe you were just imagining it, feral as you were. It felt good to stop worrying about everything for once, and you felt lucky to have found such a partner for the night.

After what felt like hours, you pulled him off the dance floor, sweaty and exhilarated from having been rubbing and grinding against each other in a build-up that you could hardly stand. With a quick stop at the corner of the bar, you poured a small water glass for each of you, chugging yours in a few gulps before refilling it. He ran a hand over his head, finishing his own water and returning the cup to the dirty dish rack. The flush on his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes were absolutely irresistible, and you felt emboldened. You pressed a hand against his stomach, reveling in the surprise on his face, and drove him backward into the wall almost forcefully. It seemed impossible to combine innocent delight and a darkened gaze, and yet there he was, smoldering with absolute magnetism in front of you. 

“Shoot, I warned you!” he teased, sliding a hand around your waist as you slipped one leg between his, sidling up to lean on his chest and press him into the wall. You laughed, placing a hand on his broad chest, feeling his heart pounding as much as your own. 

“I was indeed warned,” you admitted, toying with his hip with your other hand. He wrapped his arms around you, one around the small of your back, the other around your shoulders. You tilted your head slightly, sliding your hand up his chest, along the side of his neck, and around to the back where you cupped it firmly. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, bringing his lips to yours with exhilarating confidence. You melted into him, sliding your thigh more intentionally against his crotch, where there was definitely something more now. You drowned in your senses – the heat, the desire, the scent and taste and feel of him – and then snapped back to the present as you felt his kiss changing. 

His cheeks curved as he smiled against your mouth, tipping his forehead to touch yours and allowing both of you to catch a breath. Your heart exploded in your chest at the sight of him, eyes still closed and grinning like an idiot, and you cupped his cheek with a tender hand. When he finally did lift his head and open those gorgeous amber eyes, it sent a jolt of electricity through you – the irresistible sexiness paired with the unabashed glee was something you never wanted to forget. 

“What?” you said finally, poking playfully at his adorable grin. “Got something smart to say?”

“Nothing,” Jesse chuckled, surprisingly soft for a moment. “I’m just really loving this night.” 

“I think we’re gonna be loving it even more,” you murmured, hand grazing back down his chest and coming to rest at his waist. “But now it’s you who needs to be warned…”

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[serendipitous-mage]

not that ive had anything near a 'normal' year in well over a decade but thinkin about how proper fukt and hectic thiis one has been

beginning of year was working for one of the most insane managers/companys i ever have

middle of march i put in my two weeks, because in addition to a Lot of other reasons that i had already been struggling to not leave over, my manager straight up DOXXED a coworker(/their family member) on linkedin--and on the company linkedin as well no less--and some other drama that was just the last straw and i wanted some scrap of sanity back and to avoid that happening to me

end of march, hear that its not just possible but likely current roommate is moving, and while i *couldlve* gone with, it was an area i didnt want to go to

uncertainty from march-august, and not much progress made on job apps in that time because that is Such a huge/panic inducing process for me anyway without being unsure of living situation on top of it

roommate moving confirmed, i try and find someone who could take their spot where i already was but a lot of my friends had literally *just* moved in the last few months, so missed my chances

move in with some friends who already have so little space and money and now they have to share with me

finally hear about a job in like november

the job changes .. many times. first its a call center gig for this company, then they call back with 'the same thing but for a slightly different thing under the same parent company', and it actually does sound a little less hellish, so i go with that. all of the paperwork/emails i receive have the name of the first company on them, but when i asked about it they said it was just because of the parent company thing it was all good. they have me pick a schedule... all of the options are 40 hours, i had not asked too many specifics because i dont have the luxury of being picky rn, but i have never worked full time and am already always exhausted and cant stay awake all day, so this is going to be absolute hell. also there are 12 days where additional hours are Required, 4 of which i wouldve otherwise had off

i pick a schedule. they write back that some things changed here are some other schedules to pick from, i pick a new schedule. when we had initially talked on the phone for the first company i was told a setup day end of november and starting in december, but because of returning people/potentially from moving to the other, now im not starting until the end of january, which fucking sucks because ive been at $0 and owing friends for covering me for months. get a call saying some people dropped out, do i want to start a week earlier? yes ofc i do i need the money. get a call again saying the same thing, so now im starting the beginning of january instead.

equipment arrives: it is.....one small box......with the tiniest dinkiest little laptop with a whole entire one USB port and one USB-C port...great, perfect, this will work so well considering my monitor is VGA, and all three of my headset, mouse, and keyboard are USB connections. i do happen to have a USB to USB-C adapter for other things, but thats still only 2 of the 4 things i need plugged in. i tell them this, they through a series of CC'ing other people into the email find someone who knows where my Other equipment is. theyve sent me another monitor that has a USB-C connection and a (extremely chintzy) USB splitter. ok, technically everything can be plugged in now, whatever

we have a setup teams meeting: the lady running it mentions they just wana make sure our mics/cam work and then we can have them off for the meeting, 'because youre going to need both of them right? :)'. no. no i had bETTER not need both of them you are NOT having me ON FUCKING CAMERA for 40+HOURS A WEEK i will SCREAM.

but then. oh, oh boy howdy, and then...

the meeting was for both of the roles id been offered because the initial setup for both is the same, people for both the assignments are present. last i knew, i was on company B. i already have 15 pages of notes for company B from things i could find on the website and in manuals because i am an anxious bitch and wanted to make the first few weeks as painless as possible for me, im not confident, but i do have a fairly decent start and a basis understanding of the software already, so im a little less nervous about it

then the lady mentions...that....if youre with company A, you were sent one monitor, and if youre with company B...you were sent 2...

......i look up at my Singular monitor

and type in chat like 'hiiii um, so im with company B but was only sent the one monitor ?'

lady has someone else present double check my assignment

and they send

"youre with company A :)" legitimately with a smiley face

and when i tell you i am losing my shit-

15 pages of notes useless. company A is going to be higher call volumes and for a more generalized people which means more stupid questions and more confused customers. from what i can find on the website, their only support option seems to be phones, so there isnt even the possibility of having emails or chats which i Greatly prefer to phone calls, the other one had email at least. NONE of the emails they sent me said ANYTHING about the change, i can only assume it was one of the phone calls where they asked if i wanted to move up a week in the schedule, but it was NOT made clear i was changing anything other than the start date, just "theres an opening in the other class", and in the follow-up emails each time they only said "Thanks for your quick move to this new schedule" and "I'm excited for your earlier start date!", which does NOT imply i have been switched assignments

yall..im devastated lmao. i can never just Find A Job it always has to be some fucking batshit insane garbage like this

i start next week and im ......not excited to say the least ;w;

it only goes until april...but its going to be 40+ hour weeks (and i *doubt* any overtime pay, its technically a contractor role), on exclusively phone support (i fucking hate phones they make me mad anxious), i still havent been able to get solid notes for this one because their website is fucking unhinged and its taking me Forever to dig through it all, the laptop is tiny asf and there is no space in the shared room ive got rn to set it up in a way thats good at a desk or something im probably going to be sitting on the edge of the bed and using my shelf as a table which i Know from experience is going to kill my back and neck esp with the longer hours, they potentially want my camera on while working which is Not happening i might get fired for that even if i can keep up with the hours, and if i do get fired or quit? this job came through a recruiting agency which had got me one of my last remote jobs, and i dont think theyd be too quick to help me find something else if this one ends badly, so im really kind of forced to continue even if i didnt have such a pressing need for income asap

and all of this.. for a whole entire $16/hr :'D

happy fucking new years ;_;

[magg0tkid]

Ok quite a few things:

Today is my second last day at work and my coworker yelled at me and I teared up and did not let her see obv but like. She made me cry. Didn't like it

Probably according to Being Rational and Odds or something the odds of one of the last two days of my job being the worst or among the worst days was low...... But also I Knew, spiritually and emotionally that I would be tested One Last Time...... I just knew....... the world is not kind enough to allow you to leave something you truly want to get away from without punishing you a bit for it

I knew today would be a day where it's just me and my least favorite coworker all day bc something went wrong with bricks and so my boss didn't have enough work for everyone and said she only had two spots and I immediately volunteered bc like this is my last week to make money and ofc, bc OFC, my least favorite coworker out of like EIGHT options volunteered and of course our day was hellish. I was trynna be optimistic last night like you're being too negative!!! Maybe it'll be ok!!!! Hahahaha no

I've gotten literally so good at driving trucks tho. I didn't think I would because I am not naturally a good driver so I didn't think I'd catch on to the intricacies of Truck but it did, in fact, take

This whole summer I have been on my own with my least favorite person more than on my own with any other of my seven coworkers. There's no logical reason for that, my boss makes the teams randomly every week. This feels unfair to me. It's over now (almost, one more day) so it's literally fine and doesn't matter but I had to say it once. That was unfair.

There is a moment sometimes, specifically in summer or early fall, in the late afternoon but before supper time where the world feels very, very still. On really hot days. And there's a haze and everything feels a bit orange. And there's a small breeze and it just feels like everyone and everything has paused. It's my favorite moment that exists actually in all of life. I only notice it every once in a while. But it's like a pocket outside of time. It's like an afternoon siesta but on a spiritual realm. I noticed it the biggest ever while on a train back from Versailles which had been somewhat of a harrowing ordeal bc it was so hot that day and no shade standing in a line hours in the courtyard and I had awful cramps and had also just finished throwing up for like an hour bc I was dumb and dry swallowed my meds that morning. Was also a super cool time I'd always wanted to go and it absolutely lived up but that's not the point. I was tired but sort of pleasantly so - my cramps had finally calmed down - and on the train back with the sun streaming in everyone was perfectly quiet. On a full train. Like everyone agreed it had been a long day so far and it was just time for a little afternoon nap. It stood out to me so much and I realized I'd noticed that little moment always but never realized til then. I always notice it now. Anyway today I had it. And I thought if I didn't have this job I wouldn't be outside right now and I wouldn't have noticed the moment. So that's something.

[resmarted]

haven't been on psych meds all week due to liver failure and emergency intervention to reverse the effects of the damage from trying to replace covid meds with tylenol (even those also give you liver damage apparently and my tylenol levels didn't even appear to be that high in the end? tf?)

have already been on the brink of tears a few times, namely when chris didn't pull my show and said he knew my ability to bounce back in time. i can't even talk about it i will start sobbing it's like the most moving thing anyone has said to me in so long.

was also considering going down on these meds already and wanted to taper off to see how i manage. i have been on a steady combo of anxiety and depression meds since i was 22. i was very exhausted from being the funny girl in every setting to the point where every coworker at whole foods would want to know what was wrong the second i stopped smiling or goofing off. the expectation of me and the sad jester complex that came along with it for years got to be too much. i also felt like i had turned it into a full time job making everyone else around me comfortable which somehow evolved into being an emotional dumping ground for everyone to lay their own issues out onto, whether we knew each other or not. i genuinely care for people but there is a fine line between being nonconsensually assigned at random to become someone's free therapist and being this hardened bitch for setting boundaries and not engaging in the people-pleasing techniques of culturally fetishized support group mentality. or something idk how to explain it but i decided at some point it was much safer to just be seen as a bitch than a free vent box for other people who refuse to get on their own meds or proper treatment plans with licensed professionals etc. people tend to see that you have been through a lot and therefore you have all the answers to get them through their stuff, but it took a lot or work and therapy and is an ongoing process. it's actually really insulting and extremely lacking in self-awareness to make your problems everyone else's around you and being the only somewhat healed person in a room makes you a magnet to people who want to feel better too without doing the work. people don't deserve to be victim to your emotional outbursts or of your vampiric tendencies.

that being said, not to be anye-kay but i was a much more prolific writer and a lot of my best art has been created from the depths of hellish experiences and times in my life. suppressing my feelings about the world and not pouring it into my art is not very cash money of me. also tho the best art is made during the winter and the worst time to go off meds is also during this time, generally for the same reasons. also i think it's generally a lame excuse to say you can't make art with or without drugs. it may be easier one way or the other, but it's likely a discipline or skill issue. like maybe you're just a shitty artist and drugs is an easy way to avoid taking that accountability.

the mental health system is so fucked the regular health system is so fucked the living wage is fucked all of our money is being funneled directly into war and genocide and i just feel like numbing myself any further in this moment of revolutionary history is not the way to exist right now.

THAT being said i fucking HATE how people act off their meds, how they unleash their shit onto you with such audacious entitlement, and ultimately this world is designed to make you feel crazy, so if you can control your emotions in an act of survival then why wouldn't you? but also i am an artist, doggg.

i know how i get when i go off them for too long, how unsavory comments become, even when they are people i know disguising themselves as randos, and fortunately i have had enough experience to know how cruel and demented people get in groups on line (or in general) and have learned to genuinely not go looking for it after years or exposure tharapy alone. the second i get the slightest inkling we are not on the same team, you're out. no questions asked. like i could truly give a fuck what your excuse for your behavior you will or won't admit to, i have enough weirdo fucking stalkers online as it is and have for decades now. if you even have one of those people within six degrees or your social circle you're already on thin ice to begin with. i did not spend nearly forty years surviving this insane fucking life to go backwards. i don't attach myself to people with shitty karma, even if it's just by proxy of their friends of friends. if you want to survive cut-throat environments, you have to be willing to be called the bitch and the crazy one and whatever else will be thrown at you for refusing to adhere to a mold of low vibe mediocrity. you have to treat your social circle like an ongoing audition process that is never fully locked into place and be totally fine with whether or not people will get it (they won't, esp as a woman you will get thrown all those demonic labels and then some) it feels weird in the early days but eventually living in truth and integrity becomes second nature, and the revolving door of people who do and do not make it back for the following seasons of both your community environment of choice or your life in its most personal form always speaks for itself.

people play with fire expecting not to get burnt, play stupid games to win stupid prizes, despite how it ends the same each time etc etc etc.

say it with me: slow and steady wins the race. that falls on deaf ears attached to people trying to be the loudest in the room, but people only like fast food for so long and everyone agrees what quality is at the end of the day. you don't just get that overnight through overexertion and speed racing your way into a burnout. not everyone is meant to play this game according to the arbitrary set of rules on a constantly evolving and everchanging landscape.

this post was mostly for me btw. everything i do in this world is generally just for me. another great example of gaining a following by going against all the made up rules to a made up game that we are all just making up as we go along. [fiona apple 1997 vma voice] this world is bullshit just go with yourself

[moonbeam-dreamer]

Rainy Day Bliss

Rain. That most beautiful and cleansing of elements that Mother Nature provides. The world slows and crawls along to a beat that is sleepy, cathartic, and gentle. Even as thunder comes behind and echoes across the landscape, you can feel the wondrous creation that she bestows and stand in awe of her power. That lyrical voice is a melody that calls to all to listen and brings closure to another cycle.

Once upon a time I both loved and dreaded the downpours. Showers meant buckets stationed between gaping holes in the roof being emptied, an increase in mold, cold pushing deep into your soul, and a weariness that kept hold until you were able to sleep or merely passed out from exhaustion. Newspaper was scattered across the floor to catch what the pails missed, clothes were soaked with the off-color falls, and anger was quick to catch. There was nothing for it but to continue until the end, when you fell into your bed weary, weak, and feeling as if you've walked ten miles in a downpour that threatened to pull you under. As I now sit by my fireplace, wrapped in a cotton blanket, with a hot mug of tea in my hands, I'm forever thankful for this quiet little place and I brush the memories of the past as they try to bring my CPTSD to the surface. I smile, knowing the slumlord must be having fun trying to contain the mess. Little does he know that we put in to have it condemned and soon the inspector will be at his door. It will be a fitting end to his tyranny that lasted too many years.

Today I made a smart move and turned off my cell. Mother would, no doubt, be calling to have me come over and do work that she just "couldn't" get to. Failing this she'd text and try through messenger. A last resort would be my father. Neither know where I live, and I can take time before facing the backlash of what they perceived as 'abandonment'. After a hellish work week and dealing with a prude that gives no regard for any coworker, I am taking a much-needed downtime. Her irritation has always resembled wrapping yourself up in a wet blanket and jumping into a pool. You drowned under the weight of it. My headaches have been more frequent, and doctors have grown concerned over my rising blood pressure. I can't do much about her, but now that I don't have to put myself through the gauntlet of mother's jealousy and my father's callousness, a new world of bliss has opened before me, and I will eagerly chase it.

Tonight, however, is something I will look forward to. Summer has officially taken hold and warm weather is the order of the day. By 7pm it will be 81 degrees and once nighttime has rolled over the landscape, I'll light my candles, fill the wooden bath with a mixture of water and rose petals, and sink down for a relaxing soak in the woods that surround me. There's nothing better than bathing under the moonlight and feeling the warm wind caress your skin. With a playlist of night music from Spotify or YouTube playing in the background, I can lose myself to nature and recharge the batteries that were burned out during the week. When I lived at the house, I used to do this, but you had to be careful. Neighbors were nosey, cars drove by, and you were never able to relax when you were worried about someone stopping by. It was never fun when my father messaged me that he was ready to take me to the store and I'd have to rush the process so he wouldn't question why I was outdoors in the nude.

My heart lightens as I ease back in my armchair and wait for my role play partners to respond. I have no obligations, no visitations, and no schedule to keep me from lounging the day away. I still fight the guilt that comes from growing up in a toxic household, but therapy is getting me back on track. In my parent's house, if things weren't already done by the time someone got home from work, you didn't do enough during the day. If you hadn't accomplished a goal, gotten an award, or learned a useful skill, then you were lazy. The doc told me to focus on process over perfection. I wouldn't be able to get everything done that needs to be within a week or a year. You have to see them as a process. I needed to look at everything I did accomplish. She also told me that my parent's measure of self-worth was not a realistic way of looking at life. They had their own faults and pushed their expectations on others. Now that I was away from that environment, I could set healthy boundaries for myself, establish realistic goals, and learn how to breathe. It wasn't easy but each day I didn't mentally berate myself for sitting back and letting the world pass would be a win.

Sighing, I close my eyes and wait for the notifications to roll in. Rain peppers the window and thunderheads echo. My cat joins me for the quiet time, and we both begin to drift into a sweet nothingness that is our reward.

[studiojeon]

use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | -   Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee). 

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed. 

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish.  “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes. 

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better. 

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you. 

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face. 

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly. 

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. 

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips. 

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way. 

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were. 

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion. 

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on? 

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week. 

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker. 

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way." 

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while. 

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either. 

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out. 

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside. 

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you. 

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of  his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know". 

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right. 

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?" 

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though. 

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t. 

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

[fuck-customers]

This is a long one, and a fuck customers, fuck coworkers, fuck managers, and fuck me aaaall wrapped into one hellish situation.

First week back at classes in college. I've worked for this place for a couple years now, and am now part of student management (assistant manager) at the university's food court. We have one really, constantly slammed unit that does burgers, wraps, salads, that sort of thing. And naturally in the middle of the lunch rush my fellow assistant manager, who decided she would just sit on her ass in the office giving orientations to new workers instead of spending some time on the floor like I do (and I constantly tell her to leave some to me but that doesn't seem to be happening), gives me a new student to train on REGISTERS for this super slammed unit. No matter how many times I show her all the buttons, she is in panic mode already seeing the line, so I'm also taking in that panic, I have a unit manager who won't go away and keeps giving me new information which I really needed to not be told at the moment in time. And the training on all the register options and combos is just patchy and sporadic and not covering the amount of material I wanted to because the line is getting so long.

While I'm getting that, I am preparing food orders, expiditing them to students who aren't listening for their number to be called no matter how loud I yell, while also constantly having to correct the student mistakes on the register because I haven't been able to actually pay enough attention to her, and then one of the full timers (not students, this is just their job) is talking over me to a student who's order I'm trying to prepare correctly and show the student how to ring up correctly at the same time. Asking him if he wants pesto and or extra pesto and shit. An order was missed somewhere along the way a few times. The full-timer didn't even need to be involved! She is doing wraps and salads! The dude wanted chicken tenders with buffalo sauce which is the grill side of things!

I try very hard to say "hey I need some space; there are four people talking at me" and she isn't listening and the student is getting freaked. So I finally had enough and told her "I need everyone (customer has moved on at this point down to wait for his food so not directed at him...i would never say that to a customer) to STOP talking" and frantically motioned with my hands for her to get away. I have a lot of problems processing repetative or constant noise and have had some uncontrollable outbursts when I was younger, resulting in broken belongings so I am trying so hard to regulate myself since it's been a long time since it was a problem but she Keeps. On. Talking at me. And NOW, she is saying I'm being rude and that it was so unnecessary. When literally the only thing that got her away from me was being rude! No one listens when I'm nice! They just assume I'm optional to listen to unless I'm an ass.

And really the new student was the victim in all this chaos. I feel like I failed her, and I DID fail her. She deserved better than I gave her today and I even sent out an email apologizing and asking how I can better support her in the future...but it's never going to erase what happened today.

And I am really normally great at my job. The chefs and other staff and managers usually get noticeably more at ease when I'm there, so today just has made me go to a really dark place knowing I was the total opposite today. And with my new managerial duties, i have yet to actually be trained or shown where to find documents, i dont have access to things like fuckin printers or online files, there are about 50 oddball half-formed docs and sheets floating around online that nobody actually ever shows me how to find, requiring about 50 tabs to be juggled with only about 10 minutes to find everything needed, there are no protocals or procedures or any sort of master list/sheet/file to help keep track of everything. And none of the other student managers will help me because they have so much on their plate already.

On top of all this, I have another job on weekends (that is also driving me up a wall), student teaching, four classes, and then this job. So I work 7 days a week, and the earliest I get home during the week is 11:30 p.m. (weekends is more like 6:30 p.m.) and the latest I get to sleep in is 7 a.m. But I so badly need the money. I'm really worried this is just how it's going to be and I'm just going to continue to get worse.

[wannabegwenstacy]

Eden's Favorite Fic's (BTS Fic Recs)

Updated Version: Here!

Note: In the past I haven't indulged in tumblr fics often but I recently (past 3 months) have been reading quite regularly & am planning on branching out a bit. To keep track of the ones that I have enjoyed & the ones that I have even came back to I'm making this list. Again, I haven't been digging into the tumblr fics world for long so for right now its a very short list. I'm hoping with time I can get more fics of different types on here (btsxbts, some gender neutral xreader ones, & more ones that I genuinely like)

About me to understand what's going to be on here:

Age: 21 (99' liner)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Pronouns: She/Her

Ult Bias: Yoongi

Trio: Rap Line

I am OT7. I do enjoy smut but don't think it is necessary to FF. Overall I just want a well-crafted plot that makes sense. I read for entertainment & to escape. But I still need some form of realism (just me personally) to follow the trail of events. PSA: I'm trying to find a broader scope of writers I like but for right now I don't have many. There are gonna be some repetitive writers for now.

______________________________________________________________

Kim Namjoon:

- Librarian Namjoon Universe by @jungshookz

Beauty & the Bookworm (I love this concept SO MUCH)

Pairing: Cute, Good Boy, Nerdy, University Librarian Namjoon x Bratty, Semi-Popular, Procrastinator, University Student Reader

Word count: 20.8k

Summary: You're a procrastinator big time and you may or may not be failing. To get some extra credit you begrudgingly take the library assistant opening where you work under strict dorky Namjoon. Passive aggressiveness, cuteness, fluff, & some smuttiness arises.

Jealous-Boyfriend-Librarian Namjoon (Drabble)

Pairing: Jealous Boyfriend Librarian Namjoon x Oblivious Cute Girlfriend Uni Student Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You take an Art History Course and end up needing a tutor. Joon offers to tutor you but he doesn't know shit about Art History so you end up getting tutored by an ArtHoe Taehyung that may or may not like you but you are oblivious to this and Joon gets super jealous.

Kim Seokjin:

- Hockey Player Jin by @ve1vetyoongi

HEART OF GOLD (BLADES OF ICE)

Pairing: Sweet Hot New Hockey Player in Town Jin x Ex-Figure Skater (who has a history with jin) Reader

Word count: 20k

Summary: After a fall during figure skating practice dashes your dreams of competing at nationals, you vow to hang up your skates for good. That is until you cross paths with Kim Seokjin, captain of the ice hockey team, who is determined to get you back out on the rink and melt the ice in your heart. (Jimin is a bully in this and their other k-pop idols as characters. Very Very Fluffy and Hallmark Christmas Movie-ish so be aware of that. Overall, it's just cute :) )

Min Yoongi:

Note: these are all but one by the same writer @jungshookz & are written from the pov of a female reader. I'm gonna try to find some gender-neutral fics but for now, if you are female-identifying I really enjoyed these! :)

- Mechanic Yoongi Universe by @jungshookz

Baby, You Can Drive My Car (My favorite AU Fics I've read so far on Tumblr!!)

Pairing: Tatted, Mic Drop Era, Mechanic Min Yoongi x Spoiled Rich, Inexperienced, University Student Reader

Word count: 24.6k

Summary: Welcome to Min Mechanics - What can I do for you today, doll?

Maybe She Can Drive His Car

Pairing: Oblivious, Hot, Boyfriend, Mechanic Min Yoongi x Adorable, Spoiled, University Student, Jealous Girlfriend Reader

Word count: 11.6k

Summary: Yoongi's ex is back in town for a visit and you would be lying if you said you weren't slightly envious of a) how knowledgeable she is about stupid cars and b) how well she gets along with literally everyone.

- Uni Yoongi x Nerdy Reader (mini series) by @jungshookz

Note: these are all drabbles I'm gonna link my favorites in the series. I'll probably add more later.

Cocky Uni Student Yoongi x Nerdy Reader:

^^This is the start of the mini-series, recommend you read it first!^^

The One with the Scrunchie:

Contains: smut, a super cute scrunchie turning into a kink of sorts, slightly insecure Yoongi, experienced Yoongi, slightly inexperienced reader, shy about their own body reader.

Yoongi always had an Overactive Imagination:

Contains: talking about sex, implied smut, reader trying to be productive while also being horny, Yoongi being super distracted and horny.

"I'm gonna need you to shut up now please"

- CEO Yoongi Universe by @jungshookz

Suit&Tie (First Fic in the series)

Pairing: CEO Min Yoongi x Secretary Reader

Wordcount: 21k+

Summary: Young Intimidating Hot CEO Yoongi, Clumsy Secretary Y/N who loves Sugar, Best Friend Jimin. Funny Awkward Meeting that sets up the whole plot, was like reading a Kdrama in book form.

The One Where Augst D makes a Comeback (Favorite Fic in the series)

SPOILERS READ PRIOR DRABBLES TO CATCH UP!! (I recommend The First Date, The One Where Yoongi is Just a Little Jealous, The Proposal, The Wedding, Baby Makes Three, Baby Min's Timeline, The Birth of Baby Min, Daddy's Little Girl, Who the Hell is Augst D.

Pairing: CEO Min Yoongi x Secretary Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Summary: Yoongi finds out you faked an orgasm and he's going to gi-give it to you more ways than one.

- Demon Yoongi by @jungshookz

Hellish (I got some feelings for incubus Yoongi not gonna lie)

Pairing: Bratty, Super Sexy, Sex Demon, Mint Min Yoongi x University Student, Non-Supernatural Believer Reader

Word count: 22.1k

Summary: Jungkook is your clueless, energetic best friend. Wonho is a character in this fic, You are dragged into summoning a demon one night by your overly excited to be summoning a demon? best friend Jungkook. Spooky but Kind of Sexy Shit Happens! (This is probably my second favorite Yoongi Fic I've read!)

- Basketball Captain Yoongi by @jungshookz

Basketball Captain Yoongi

Pairing: Cocky, Popular, Charming Captain of the Basketball Team Min Yoongi x Water girl University Student Reader (who has been crushing on Yoongi hard for some time)

Word count: 18.4k

Summary: Jungkook is your athletic bro of a best friend that signs you up to be his replacement as the water boy (girl in this case) after he makes the team. You have had a pathetic schoolgirl crush on Yoongi for a while and is basically the only reason you agreed to be the water girl aside from spending time with Jungkook. It's fluffy & smutty!

- Android Yoongi @jungshookz

Technologically in love (..I cried! but I also smiled a lot so you know this is well written)

Pairing: Personal Assistant Prototype but SUPER Lifelike Android Min Yoongi x Messy, Junkfood, & Cartoons Loving Reader (basically your early 20s living alone kind of vibe)

Word count: 24k+

Summary: You live in a Detroit Becoming Human type universe but prior to a lot of the advancements. Androids are already a thing but not to the level the M1N Y00NG1 is yet. You are best friends with all the boys and they happen to be engineers which is how you ended up with Yoongi in the first place. Namjoon created Yoongi as a personal assistant prototype android & you are told to live with him. Things get fluffy, SUPER ANGSTY, and super smutty!

- Listen Closely by @avveh

Listen Closely ( sexiest Yoongi fic I have read so far, I kept wanting to go back and read again)

Pairing: Tsundere Office Worker Min Yoongi x Hardworking Office Worker Reader

Word count: 12.2k

Summary: Unintentionally, you stumble upon something that makes you view your coworker Min Yoongi in a whole new light. (SMUT 18+: Masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breathplay, spanking, degrading names.)

Jung Hoseok:

- Secret Boyfriend Hoseok by @kpopfanfictrash

Keeping a Secret (this took me places...Idk about you but I have trouble finding really good Hoseok fics and this one was perfect. One of my favorite fics on this website)

Pairing: New Relationship Dom Hoseok x New Relationship Tease Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You and Hoseok have been hooking up for a few weeks now. No one in your friend group knows. What happens then, when he shows up at movie night looking better than anticipated? SMUT!

- Studio Sex Hoseok by @joonbird

Studio:

Pairing: Boyfriend BTS Hoseok x Girlfriend Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Hoseok is stressed about his upcoming mixtape, so you decide to swing by his studio and help him relax. (Hobi being the beautiful glorious sexy man he is and putting those ungodly hips to use!)

Park Jimin:

- Jimin and His Pregnancy Kink by @boymeetsweevil

ME, YOU, AND THIS THING WE HAVE BETWEEN US (NSFW)

Pairing: Sweet Caring Domestic but Horny Jimin x Pregnant Hormonal Reader

Word count:~3.7k

Warnings (aka what to prepare for): everything is graphic and gross lmao, blowjobs (face f*cking), boob job (not the one w/ silicon inserts), cunnilingus, dom!jimin if u squint, cumplay if u squint again, dirty talk/degrading language, penetrative sex (doggy style), unprotected sex, PREGNANCY KINK that’s a big one

Summary: You’re pregnant and Jimin is…happy about it (If I remember correctly this one is 25% cute domestic Jimin trying to calm his hormonal pregnant partner and 75% pure filth aka Jimin having a pregnancy kink and trying to hide it but not well at all. This is however my ultimate fav Jimin smut I have ever read!)

- Crush/Neighbor Jimin by @sketchguk

Lover to Lean On: (I absolutely adore this fic. Overall it's just really well written and I felt like I was watching a show in my head rather than reading a short Tumblr fic. Highly recommend it!)

Pairing: Cute Customer & Neighbor Jimin x Florist Reader

Word Count: 19.9k

Summary: For months, you can hear your no-face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. Above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. You’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course, you’re bitterly single. But one day, the apartment is radio silent. And one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. So on Valentine’s Day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other.

Kim Taehyung:

-Roommate Taehyung Universe by @jungshookz

Stuck with You

Pairing: Frat Bro bit of an asshole Roommate Kim Taehyung x Clean Organized bit of a Pushover Reader

Word count: 37k

Summary: Kim Taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things to ever happen to you. Librarian Namjoon is your Best friend and ex-roommate. Frat bro Jeon Jungkook makes an appearance. There is so smut and implied smut.

The One with the One Year Anniversary (Drabble)

Pairing: The cutest domestic boyfriend Kim Taehyung x girlfriend reader

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: NO SPOILERS! so I'm going to give you a quote: "well, um, look! I made breakfast for you. f-for us!" Also, SFW

Jeon Jungkook:

- Gamer Jungkook by @softyoongiionly

PRESS START (this is the cutest fucking smut type fic I have ever read! it is so pure and is the exact type of relationship I want! IT MADE ME SIMP SO HARD!) gender-neutral I believe!

Pairing: Night owl Gamer Domestic Boyfriend Jeon Jungkook x Witty Domestic Cutesy Relationship Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: A night in with your boyfriend Jungkook includes all kinds of things: anime, witty banter, snacks from 7-Eleven and, you know, sex. (GREAT READ!! I AM A SIMP FOR THIS FIC!!)

[tennessoui]

49!!!!!! Please

finally!!!! baby, finally!!!!

49. Boss/Intern (35yo!Boss!Anakin, 19yo!Intern!Obi-Wan)

(2.4k)

Obi-Wan rubs his hands rapidly down his face. He feels distinctly like he’s about to burst into tears, which would be a very bad thing to do here and now. His supervisor had come in fifteen minutes ago to tell him everyone was going to lunch. She’d invited him along, but he’d said no.

He always says no.

Lunch for the rest of the office means he gets to have a scheduled breakdown at his little cubicle.

He just. He just doesn’t know anything.

He’s only had this internship at Temple Tech for one week and already he’s floundered and fucked up more than anyone else probably has put together in their lifetimes.

He shouldn’t have ever applied, but he had been getting so desperate for summer employment, any sort of employment and, yes, this internship was out of his career field, and yes, he did have to lie at least five times on his resume, but it was an internship and it was paid.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. But then he actually got the job by some stroke of hellish luck, and he’s been learning every day since that it was actually probably a terrible idea. The learning curve is too steep. Obi-Wan is trying, but wow is he bad at it. Tech. Data stuff.

On his open computer, the sound of an email pinging rushes through his ears and he takes his hands off of his face to look. It’s from Anakin Skywalker. The boss.

Obi-Wan thinks he can feel his fingers grow numb. His heart feels like it’s stuttering in his chest, like it’s about to stop once and for all.

Temple Tech is a start-up company, still small but growing quickly. At its head is thirty-five year old Anakin Skywalker, which shouldn’t be any sort of a problem because Obi-Wan’s nineteen now and he can keep it in his pants, even if Anakin is hot as hell, smart as well, and so terribly kind whenever they run into each other.

Which happens a lot. Because it’s a small company, operating out of one renovated warehouse turned office. The floor plan is open enough that Obi-Wan’s able to see Anakin’s space--he gets a proper office, as part of being the boss, but he’s chosen to make the walls glass so it doesn’t feel as if he’s cut off from everyone else--from across the room. And Anakin is big on making everyone who works with him feel like family. A lot of companies say they do that or support that, but Anakin actually does. For one thing, he tells them to call him Anakin, not Mr. Skywalker. For another, he’s open about his personal life, but not so much that it makes anyone feel uncomfortable.

He’s quick with a smile and so understanding, and if he ever gets mad—and from his stories of his younger days, Obi-Wan knows he must have a temper—it’s never been in public.

And Anakin has never commented on how often Obi-Wan blushes around him, or how hard it is for him to focus on his work if Anakin sits on the edge of his desk to talk with him. Or any of the other employees, Obi-Wan has had to remind himself many times. Even though Obi-Wan feels hypersensitive and like a schoolgirl whenever Anakin is in his general vicinity, Anakin is a professional. He’s Obi-Wan’s boss. Nothing could ever happen between them. Not while Obi-Wan works under Anakin.

Even if Anakin is so nice and so kind and has asked to meet him now when everyone else is out of the building. It’s not suspicious and it’s definitely not cause for concern of any kind.

He thinks about shooting back an email, confirming it, but he’s never been good at the whole office environment thing. Instead, he logs off his computer and stands up.

It’s a short walk to Anakin’s office, hardly enough time for his palms to get sweaty.

Anakin’s typing something when Obi-Wan enters the room and he looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, aghast when he realizes he’s forgotten to knock. “I’m sorry, I--”

“Obi-Wan, come in, please,” Anakin gives him a slight smile and gestures for him to sit on the couch next to his desk. Obi-Wan takes a seat hesitantly. It’s as soft as it’s always looked.

Anakin types for a few more seconds on his computer before pushing away from his desk all together and taking a seat next to Obi-Wan on the couch.

“I’ve noticed you never go out to lunch with your coworkers,” Anakin says, positioning himself so he’s facing Obi-Wan completely. His body language is open, like he’s read one of those business books on how to sit so everyone knows you’re nice but you have an agenda.

It puts Obi-Wan on edge, and he fidgets around on his seat.

“You’re not in trouble, b--Obi-Wan,” his boss murmurs. “I just want to know why. Do you not like them? Have they been mean to you?”

“No!” Obi-Wan denies immediately, looking up at Anakin and biting his lip when he sees that the man’s attention is fixed so squarely on him. “No, of course not. Everyone here has been amazing.” He widens his eyes and raises both eyebrows. “Really, sir.”

Anakin looks distinctly uncomfortable. “I’ve told you to call me Anakin,” he criticizes, and Obi-Wan blushes more.

He’s really messing this up.

“Sorry, sir, I mean. Anakin. Sorry. Anakin,” he coughs. His palms are sweaty. He’s sitting on his attractive boss’s couch when everyone’s gone on lunch, and his palms are sweaty.

He doesn’t even want anything to happen.

Alright, so that’s a lie. He definitely has spent a lot of late nights thinking about something happening between them, just like this, but those are fantasies and Anakin is his boss. More than that, Anakin is a good man. He’d never take advantage of an intern in that way, no matter how frequently Obi-Wan feels as if he’s walking around with a sign around his neck that says, Take Advantage of Me, Mr. Anakin, Sir!

“Why don’t you go to lunch with them, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks softly, gently.

Obi-Wan’s hands clench down on themselves. It’s really the moment of truth, now. He really can’t keep lying, not when Anakin sounds so concerned. He has no right to be concerned! He shouldn’t care about Obi-Wan at all; hell, he shouldn’t even know him!

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles, staring down at the stretch of fabric on his knees.

Anakin hums. Obi-Wan wonders if he learned that from his fancy How to Run a Business books as well: don’t say anything, just let the other person talk until you know everything you need to know to crush them.

Damn if the silence doesn’t work to get Obi-Wan speaking again though.

“I...I’m behind on the work,” he admits. “I don’t have time to go to lunch because I need to figure out how to do my work.”

Anakin makes a sympathetic noise deep in his throat. “If...if your workload is too heavy, Obi-Wan, we can look into cutting it. I don’t want to be known as the company that runs its interns into the ground.”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightens too much and he shrugs. He can’t cry. He really shouldn’t cry. He did this to himself. “It wouldn’t help,” he whispers.

“What?” Anakin asks, leaning forward to hear him better.

“It wouldn’t help,” Obi-Wan says again, louder this time. Anakin blinks at him, and Obi-Wan finally tells him the truth. “I don’t know how to do any of this. I...I lied on my resume. I needed a job, for my student visa. I needed the money to keep it while not in school. And...and internships are supposed to look good on your resume, so I...I thought I could figure it out, I’m smart, sir, I’m so smart. I don’t know why I can’t figure it out.”

He drops his gaze to his hands again and breathes out shakily. He’d been carrying the weight of that secret for far longer than he should have been. It should have been a relief of the utmost degree to give it away. But instead he’s waiting for the punishment. Anakin will have to fire him now. Anakin might even get mad at him for lying.

When his boss doesn’t say anything for several long seconds, Obi-Wan chances a glance up at him through his lashes. Instead of anger on his face, there’s only a confused sort of sympathy.

“I’m...not sure I understand, Obi-Wan,” he says slowly. “You lied on your resume to get this internship, but...why couldn’t you have just applied to an internship in a different field? One you actually want to study? I know you like biology, you’ve told me more about biology in the past few weeks than you’ve told me about yourself.”

“None of them wanted me,” Obi-Wan sniffles and hates himself for it. “I tried, I promise. I promise I didn’t want to lie, but I needed the money, and this internship paid so much better than working at a coffeehouse would.”

Anakin puts his hand gently on his shoulder and Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from turning into the pressure of it. “It’s alright,” Anakin murmurs. “Oh no, please don’t--please don’t cry, b--Obi.”

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan wails.

Anakin hushs him. “Alright, Obi-Wan, alright. Let’s see what we can do.”

“You’re going to fire me,” he says with absolute certainty. He doesn’t even much like his job at Temple Tech, but how is he supposed to find another one on such short notice?

Anakin is quiet. He doesn’t say no.

“Look, I’ll try harder, I promise,” Obi-Wan stutters out, turning to look up at Anakin with wet eyes. What a picture he must make. Nothing professional about him at all. Nothing worth keeping around either. “I promise, please, don’t--I’ll--I’ll stay after hours, I’ll work late, come early. I need this job, sir.”

Anakin’s eyebrows furrow and he looks genuinely regretful, which is little comfort. “Obi-Wan, it’s not about...your work ethic. I promise, your work ethic is stronger and better than most of the people on my team.”

Obi-Wan wipes at his eyes hastily. He knows there’s a but coming soon.

“But I can’t...if you’ve lied on your resume, you can’t put Temple Tech there later. That’s not fair for anyone else who applied and was rejected in favor of you. The spot you have...I need someone there who knows what they’re doing with computers. Who wants to be there. Obi, it makes sense that you don’t know anything about tech. You never look like you really want to be here unless you’re talking to someone else.”

Obi-Wan’s bottom lip trembles and he can feel another wave of tears coming. “I understand, sir,” he mumbles, standing up and preparing to leave the office and Anakin Skywalker behind forever. He’s never been fired before. He doesn’t know what the decorum really is in this situation.

Being tugged back and into his boss’ arms doesn’t feel like how it normally goes, though.

But he can’t resist melting into Anakin’s tight hug, rubbing his cheek on the man’s nice shirt. He wants to give him something to remember him by, even if it’s just tear stains on expensive cotton.

“Lemme help you,” Anakin suddenly says, voice very gruff. Obi-Wan freezes in his arms and tilts his head to try and see Anakin’s face. Help him?

“I don’t understand,” he admits, biting his lip.

“I like you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin confesses. “I do. I’ll be sad to see you leave. I was already going to be sad to see you leave when your internship concluded, but this is much sooner. I…”

He trails off as if trying to make up his mind. It doesn’t take him long to nod to himself.

“Be honest,” he warns him, but there’s a joking lilt to his voice. Obi-Wan, personally, thinks that’s a little too soon. “Do you know how to clean house?”

Obi-Wan pulls out of Anakin’s arms to stare at him.

“Or walk dogs,” Anakin adds.

Slowly, Obi-Wan nods. Cleaning up a house and walking dogs feels like something he can figure out how to do. Feels pretty self-explanatory for the most part. The only thing he’s confused by is why Anakin is asking this of him.

“Would you...that is, just for the rest of the summer, until your classes start again--how would you feel about cleaning my house? And walking my dogs?” Anakin seems to hold his breath.

Obi-Wan feels like he’s stepped into the Twilight Zone or something.

“You’re...firing me,” he says slowly. “But...you’re offering me a job? As your….maid?”

“‘We should call it housekeeper,” Anakin says quickly, a pained look flashing across his face. “Too...many connotations with maid.”

“Why?” he has to ask. “I mean. I lied to you, sir. I...you’re firing me.”

“Because I need someone in that position who knows what they’re doing,” Anakin explains slowly.

“Do you want me in another position, sir?” Obi-Wan asks. He blushes furiously as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Anakin’s eyes darken and he clears his throat. He doesn’t say no, and his silence, the double entendre of his silence, makes the breath catch in Obi-Wan’s throat.

“You said you needed money to keep your visa,” Anakin says. “I’m trying to offer you an honest means of employment. I need someone to keep up my house and walk my dogs. If you can do it, I’d hire you over anyone else in a second.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan whispers, suddenly so very aware of how close they’re still standing to each other, how nice Anakin smells, how handsome he looks with just the beginning of a silver streak at his temple.

Anakin sweeps his gaze over Obi-Wan’s face and chest, and Obi-Wan has to wonder what he sees there. Whatever he does, he must like because he smirks. “Work ethic,” he murmurs.

[aching-tummies]

(Not exactly sure if I'm really doing this right but here we go.) If I was your partner... I'd take you someplace nice and encourage you to eat whatever you want. After a large meal I'd be the one to drive home, as your complaining of an upset stomach. Wanting a reaction, I'd take you down the secluded, bumpy road to see what happens.

A/N: Thanks for the lovely ask! I kind of deviated a little, incorporating some of what's been going on in my life lately (new job, stresses causing me to skip meals, the craving for pasta, etc.) The beginnings of this do delve into spiraling about weight(loss) and body image stuff a little...so if that's a trigger for people then this is your warning.

It’s been more than two years since we indulged in dine-in service at a place with non-disposable cutlery. I’ve been craving pasta for even longer than that. Creamy, garlic-y, non-reheated pasta served on a plate and twirled around a metal fork.

We haven’t taken any opportunities to celebrate for the last two years. Birthdays, holidays, promotions at work or major advancements in our career adventures—we’ve barely done anything more than acknowledge them as we both go to pick up extra shifts wherever it is that we have been working. Honestly, we’ve seen so little of each other that it wouldn’t surprise either of us if the other snuck in a job-change in the last two years. That all changes tonight.

A nearby pasta place is offering dine-in service. We booked a reservation for tonight—all you have to do is pick me up from work and we can head on over.

I’m the one that managed to sneak in a job-change in the craziness. Fast-food to office intern. I’m barely handling things. I’ve been beyond exhausted because the change happened suddenly. The office place demanded that I start with them on a whim (despite my only condition on hiring being the time to give my fast-food job the proper two week notice). Due to their abrupt “start now or we will move ahead with other candidates” ultimatum, I’ve been pulling 44+ hour weeks juggling two jobs located on opposite ends of the city.

Tonight is a celebration. Dine-in service by itself is already something to celebrate in my books, but you’re insisting that tonight is for me because I finally finished my dues to the fast-food place. The hellish four weeks of juggling is over. No more calls at midnight from me begging you to pick me up from some random quadrant of the city because I nodded off on the last bus home. No more days where I make it home from my office job only to get an urgent call from the fast-food place begging/demanding that I show up because someone cut work. No more packed weeks with no days off or time to even pack myself lunch. Hopefully no more nights where you have to peel me off of the floor because making it home was all I managed before passing out from exhaustion.

I’ve got an hour before you’re set to come pick me up from my office job. I can’t help but smile as I count down the minutes while working on editing some funding proposal that was shoved at me a couple of minutes ago.

My stomach grumbles at me and I clam up. I blush as I look around to ensure nobody heard it. The office is basically empty. All the other staff seem to have gone off to lunch. That’s something I’m going to have to get used to: the fact that there doesn’t seem to be a set schedule here…people head out to lunch whenever. As a petrified newbie, I haven’t had the guts to just take off whenever. The number of shifts where I’ve stayed here for a full eight hours and then navigated an hour and a half of transit transfers only to come home ravenous is pretty high.

Welp, if a stomach growls and nobody is here to hear it then I guess it doesn’t make a sound. I’ve got an hour left before you come to pick me up and we’re basically just two hours away from satisfying my years long pasta craving. Going out to hunt for food now would only spoil my appetite.

“I AM HERE!”

I giggle at the reference and accompanying gif you’ve sent to announce your arrival. I pack up my area and get up, saying ‘bye’ to Jerry on my way out. The second I walk out that door will mark the start of my days off for the week, something I haven’t had in over a month.

“Hi, sweetie!” I chirp as I open the passenger door and bend over to set down my bag.

As I settle in, folding myself into the car, the movements dislodge a deep rumble from my tummy. I freeze, arm still reaching out to close the door. You snicker at me with your left arm perched on your open window, fingers close to your face and highlighting that charming grin of yours that I love so much.

“Oi, close the door and we can get going.”

I do just that. With the door closed, you carefully back out of the parking space and off we go. We don’t get very far. Ah, the joys of rush hour. No use honking, Karen, you’re not ‘stuck in traffic’—you are traffic and there’s no manager for you to speak to here, moron!

I adjust my seat a little, leaning back and allowing myself to relax. I’ve done it. Tomorrow is a day off. And so is the next day. My first true weekend in over three years and my first days off in over three weeks. I can feel the tension ebbing out of me. My shoulders untense, leaving behind a distinct soreness.

My shoulders aren’t the only thing to stop tensing. Apparently, my abdominals decided to join in as well.

Grrr…RRRR…blr.br…rrr.

I blush and sit up, arms wrapping around my stomach as it continues to snarl at me. The growls come with the sharp pains of hunger pangs and I wince, hugging my tummy and pressing my arms against the pain. The grumbles are quickly drowned out by your laughter.

“Man, no wonder you say your coworkers don’t talk to you here. If I heard that coming from a newbie I’d be scared of ‘em too.”

“S-Shut up!” I don’t want to admit that my tummy has been growling very loudly at the office. I’ve skipped more lunches than I’ve eaten in my time here. I lean back in the seat again, arms crossed over my chest as I look away from you, pouting. I’m hungry enough that my stomach really hurts, I’m a panicking newbie at work that doesn’t know the ropes or what’s expected of them, and here you are teasing me.

Your right hand reaches over but instead of stopping on the shift stick it continues further until your palm finds my stomach. The gentle pressure and the warmth of your palm nudging right over where my stomach joins my intestines aids in the relaxation of my tensed muscles and brings forth another loud grumble from my guts. You move your hand slightly, patting and rubbing my flat tummy absentmindedly as you keep the rest of you focused on traffic.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Y-Yeah…” I don’t want to admit that I’m happy about it. My waistband was loose enough to fall to my thighs before I put my belt on this morning. I love it but you and I both know weight and eating are sore subjects for me. I bite my tongue to keep from asking whether or not you think the weight loss is a good thing or not. Your tone was flat—it was an observation. The fact that I’ve been too busy and stressed out to have time to eat (or digest properly when I do) has led to the rapid shedding of pounds. Not just in the last three or four weeks, but for a long time yet. The reasons for the weight loss aren’t good…but I really do like the results, so I don’t want to hear it from you…good or bad…I don’t want to hear it. Thankfully, you don’t push the issue. Traffic picks up and you remove your hand from my stomach and put it back on the wheel.

My stomach continues to gripe and snarl as we make our way through the city at a crawl. I no longer have work to distract me and your impromptu massage has definitely woken the beast in my guts. ‘Starving’ doesn’t even begin to cover how my stomach feels. I’m starting to feel the other effects of the lack of food too. Light-headedness, feeling cold, and a limpness in my limbs. I want to press my arms into my stomach to quell some of the ache and the noises but I just can’t seem to summon the strength to put enough pressure on it. I wish you had kept your hand on my tummy. As much as your touch intensified the hunger, the pressure of your hand on my stomach was kind of comforting. Ugh…this is all wrong. We’ve been together long enough to know that both of us are into tummy stuff. Any other opportunity we’d be all over each other right now. Your mention of the weight I’ve lost and the silence that has followed since is filling me with anxiety. Under normal circumstances you’d have parked the car somewhere to tease my hungry tummy into oblivion. The fact that we’re currently driving in silence when there’s a golden kink opportunity in the palm of our hands is worrisome to me. Suddenly I don’t feel so good about the weight I’ve lost. I like it. It made me look totally bomb in my new office clothes. Buttons don’t strain even when I bend over or stretch. I spend the rest of the car ride lost in my anxieties. I’m not at an unhealthy weight. Sure, losing it is a testament of the stress I’ve been under lately…but it’s not like I’ve been intentionally skipping meals or fixating on some unachievable body image or something. This isn’t about the weight or anything, it was just a happy consequence of the hectic times I’ve gone through.

We arrive at the restaurant and you get out, expecting me to follow. I’ve managed to work myself into a ball of anxiety in the passenger seat and I don’t move. You pause on the sidewalk when you see me still strapped inside the car. You walk over and open the passenger door.

“Babe?” You see me petrified and chewing on my lip—a tell-tale sign I’m fighting some internal battle. “What’s wrong?” You cup my cheek with your hand, thumb going to pull my lower lip away from my teeth.

“Huh? Wha?” My gaze sharpens as I’m brought back to reality. I didn’t even realize we’ve arrived.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Uhm…w-well…y-you said…n-nevermind.” I unbuckle the seatbelt and step out of the car. You frown as you think back on what I meant about you having said something.

“Oh, about the weight loss?” I freeze. Bingo. “Babe—I didn’t mean anything by it, honest. Just an observation.” You scratch at the back of your head. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately and gosh knows neither of us has had time to cook or pack lunches. I was just thinking that maybe we should work on that together. Going hungry so often sounds like a dream, kink-wise…but neither of us has had time for that lately. I was going to suggest creating a mealplan or something together, maybe bringing out the slow cooker and freezing some stuff so that we can just grab and go for work going forward.” I stumble over and rest my head on your shoulder, giving a slight nod.

I’m overwhelmed. One thing you said sent me spiraling and you just pulled me out of it.

“Ugh…don’t do that again.”

You smirk. “I won’t. Rather than think yourself into a hole over that, you should really think about what it is you want to eat. We’re ordering off the full menu tonight.”

My eyes widen. The full menu has more selection but it’s way more expensive. Every time we’ve come here in the past, we have always ordered off the specials menu—the discounted, half-size portions that they offer. You smile seeing my stunned reaction.

“Birthdays, holidays—and Sweets, you got a job! You got a job where you don’t have to deal with the dreaded ‘customer’. I’m proud of you, Sweets. This…this is supposed to be a celebration…right? For all the celebrating we haven’t been able to do in…damn, how long has it been—” Your rambling is cut off when I seal your lips with mine. I step back with a grin, watching the dumbfounded, wide-eyed expression pass over to you ‘cuz I’m usually the no-kissy-touchy type.

“Chicken parm with garlic, angel-hair pasta in cream sauce.” I know exactly what I want to order. I’ve known it for over two years. That dish has been taunting me in my dreams for over two years. When I chew on my pillow in my sleep ‘cuz I skipped dinner in lieu of sleep I’m dreaming about that dish. The last time I had it from here was with my parents—long before I met you—for a birthday when I was still in grade school. My stomach growls, punctuating my declaration. The sound shocks you out of your reverie and you slide an arm around my waist, resting your palm against my stomach as you feel all the empty rumbles reverberating beneath your palm.

“Alright. Guess we better walk in before they give away our table…or before you decide it’s quicker just to eat me here in the parking lot.”

Ugh…how am I already full? There’s still so much food on the plate. So, so much. Urrgh…

My stomach silently gripes at me. A sickly, sticky feeling is blooming in my guts. I’m sated but there is still far too much food on my plate. The full menu is more expensive, but they fill the plate up more and often use bigger plates. I’ve forgotten just how big, and my tummy is suffering. Two years is a long time to go without something and I’ve gone without fulfilling my craving for pasta in cream sauce for over two years, maybe even three. That’s a long time…long enough for my stomach to forget how to handle cream sauce, apparently.

I’ve only swallowed about a fifth of my plate and my stomach already feels heavy. The warm bread to start and the bites of chicken parmesan cutlet went down alright. They lined my stomach comfortably and my digestive tract knew exactly how to handle them. The first couple of bites of pasta were cushioned by the bread and chicken. When that lining dissolved away and more of the pasta came into contact with my gastric juices, I realized there was a problem.

My stomach pounced on the bites of bread and the water and cola I chased it down with. I could practically feel my duodenum yawning wide to suck in the masticated bread, my intestines just as hungry for it as I have been all day. When it had to contend with the cream sauce things started to slow down. I can feel a backlog of stuff sitting in my stomach, refusing to be broken down further into a form that will comfortably move onto my intestines. I’m chewing a lot more, my mouth creating more saliva. I feel sick. My stomach doesn’t hurt, yet, but it’s definitely going to as it fights with the creamy, oily pasta.

“Ooh…they’ve got tiramisu here.” You’re eyeing the dessert menu. “It’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah…but it’s expensive and this is a lotta food.”

“We’re supposed to be celebrating, Sweets. We’ll take whatever you don’t finish to-go. Leftovers are a Godsend, remember? C’mon, let’s live a little.”

I feel a weight settle in my stomach as you flag down a passing wait-staff and order a tiramisu. To share, thank God. My stomach churns in vain, serving only to churn up the mess of creamy pasta and chicken without moving it along further in the digestive process. The sphincter to my duodenum is squeezed tight, refusing passage to the foreign cream and oil mix that it doesn’t seem to recognize.

I managed to finish just under half of my plate before the dessert arrived. I decided to throw in the towel and asked for the rest to be packed up to-go. I put on a smile as we share the dessert and hope it’s not as shaky as my guts feel. The dessert is delicious. Rich, flavorful, and perfect. If only I didn’t have to feel it sickeningly sliding down my esophagus, plopping down heavily into a stomach crammed much too full with indigestible pasta. As my stomach clenches and churns things around the creamy tiramisu is going to get incorporated with the rest of the mess. It’s going to make it thicker and creamier…as if it wasn’t already too thick and too creamy for my duodenum to open up and allow it to wreak havoc in my intestines. As sick as my overstuffed stomach feels, I am a little grateful that my duodenum is being a stubborn prick.

If the creamy mess had passed into my intestines, I’d be doubled over in the bathroom right now, rubbing futilely at my revolting intestines. I know what dairy does to my guts. It doesn’t usually happen, just when I’m stressed or it’s close to that time of the month. It’s nasty and it hurts bad enough that I honestly think hell is enduring those cramping intestines for eternity.

We finish the tiramisu. You offer me the lion’s share, but I refuse and push it back to you with a mention on my stomach being really full. I bring my hands to my stomach and I catch the way your eyes smolder at the sight. Good. Yes. Get us home quickly, darling.

You pay for the meal, and we are off. I clutch my tummy behind my bag as we walk out to the car. Every step sends aftershocks into my guts and it’s really upsetting things in my stomach.

As I settle in the passenger seat, I notice the buttons on my blouse are a little bit strained around my stomach. Horror sets in and I quickly fumble to get the buttons undone. I don’t want to ruin my shirt and the sight of the straining buttons triggers something nasty in my mind. I calm down a little once the buttons are undone and I rub my tummy under the cover of my bag, palms running up and down the dark undershirt that is draped snugly over my full belly.

“It’s still early. Want to really paint the town red and see if we can catch a movie somewhere?”

I swallow back a sickly belch to answer your question, my questing hands churning up the mess in my guts and dislodging air pockets.

“Umph…n-no…let’s go home.”

“Sweets, you okay?” Your voice is laced with concern. Surely you can hear the sickly squelching from my guts. Do I have to spell it out for you?

“Hmm? No,” I blush as I fidget and grapple with whether or not to come clean. I’m shy about this kind of stuff—you’re my partner though and have been for a long time—we’re both into tummy stuff—we haven’t done anything on this front in a very long time. Making my decision, I move my back over to the floor, resting it against my shins and I lean back, allowing you full view of my distended tummy with my blouse undone. “I just…uhm…m-my tummy’s kinda…upset…I just really want to get home.” My stomach burbles sickly throughout our conversation. I have both my hands on the rounded curve of it, rubbing at tender spots with my thumbs.

Your eyes widen at the sight of my belly rounding out my undershirt. You start the car and pull out of our stall. Instead of righting the car onto the road you keep backing into a more secluded spot on the far end of the lot. This one is obscured by an overgrown bush or tree on the passenger side.

I haven’t even bothered with getting my seatbelt on. I was too caught up in my indigestion to think of it despite it normally being a habit. To be fair, I don’t think the seatbelt is a good idea with my tummy so bloated and sore.

“What are you—”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn in your seat, giving me your full attention. My seat is still reclined a little further than normal from the drive over. Gently, you put a hand on my shoulder, indicating for me not to sit up. Your eyes briefly meet mine and convey your plan before they go back to fixating on my belly.

I relax my arms, letting them rest at my sides as you slide a hand over the crest of my bloated gut. I bite back a groan as the slight pressure of your hand increases the pressure in my intestines. My stomach is packed full with an indigestible mass of creamy pasta. My duodenum is not allowing any of that entry into my intestines so they sit, bloated with air. The ingredients for a very upset tummy are inside of me…they just need a bit of a push to act as a catalyst.

The push comes in the form of a literal push as you place both hands, one on each side of my tummy, and squeeze. I bite back a mewl of pain until the pressure relents and you are sliding your hands all over my taut tummy.

“Oh my…you really are full.”

“Ugh…haven’t…haven’t eaten so much in a long time.” I groan as your hands churn up the mess in my guts. You know what you’re doing. You felt the firmness in my upper left and you know that everything is sitting heavy in my stomach. You focus your massage on my left, on the area where my duodenum is. You rub and nudge and coax at the area, intent on getting the sphincters to unclench and allow my meal to continue to digest.

“Oh…ah!” I can’t help but cry out a little as I feel my duodenum flood with the lumpy mess. A rumbling, wet burble indicates when the sphincter finally gives up and allows the mess in my stomach passage. My stomach acid wasn’t enough to break down the creamy, oily pasta so it’s entering my intestines relatively undigested.

After ten minutes of you massaging my belly, (in)digestion is in full swing. My intestines are filling up with the ache-inducing mass and the straining pressure that started in my stomach has now spread all over my abdomen. You reach over and pull down my seat belt, buckling it before reaching over to get my seat back into an upright position. My stomach cramps sharply with the change in orientation and my mewl of pain is cut off by a harsh belch. You pat my tummy almost teasingly as you right yourself in your seat and start the car.

I don’t bother to keep track of where we are heading. You could be taking me to the movies, intent on letting my indigestion stew for a couple of hours, or you could be driving us home. I don’t care. I can’t care because every ounce of me is focused on the sharp pains exploding all over my guts as the car hits every bump in the road. Damned city not bothering to spend money to fix the thousands of pot-holes in our roads. My stomach is just as vocal as I am about the indigestion.

You brake sharply, causing the seatbelt to dig into my tummy and tear a sharp gasp of pain from me. I see the road ahead of us…it’s not a road at all but literally the worst road in our city. This stretch of road is famous even outside of our city for just how bumpy and nasty it is. People scrape the undercarriage of their cars if they aren’t careful in avoiding the potholes that litter this thing like craters on the moon. People have lost pieces of their cars and done massive damage to their vehicles by driving down this road. People around here know to avoid this road. The alternative is a ten minute detour to take the safer, newer road and everyone agrees that ten minutes more is better than damaging their car on this road so it is always empty.

“Darling, no—”

You floor it, going down the secluded road at a high speed. We hit every bump and hole in the thing (that won’t damage the car)…you used to come down this thing often and you’re a master at navigating it to avoid damage to the vehicle. Damage to my tummy, on the other hand.

My stomach gives off aborted grumbles and gripes, each one interrupted as we hit another bump in the road. My tummy sloshes and churns. Digestion had stalled without your hands pushing everything along, but this new form of “massage” in the form of a very bumpy ride is kick starting things all over again…in the wrong direction. Stuff swirls inside of my stomach and I swear that it’s filling up rather than emptying. The pressure is building in my stomach. I’d like to believe it’s the air from my intestines, but I’m sure we managed to get most of that out with your massage in the parking lot.

"Ugh…ouch…ah—ow! Ungh…my tummy…urp…my tummy…ulp…” I can’t help it. Belches and protests roll through my throat, unchecked. It’s better than the alternative of something solid, I guess. The road has increased the upset tenfold as I clutch my stomach in both hands. The road has dialed the cramping pains up to eleven and many more aches and tender spots have erupted thanks to the bumpy ride. We’re about halfway through the road when I feel something solid tickling at my esophagus.

“Ugh—Babe—STOP!” I reach up and slap a hand over my mouth, fearing that we’re about to see my dinner come back out.

You slam on the brakes and the pressure from the seatbelt is what does it. My mouth fills with the sour mess of barely-digested pasta.

“Ugh…urk…” I swallow back the bile. It’s nasty, but there’s no receptacle and I don’t want to stink up the car. Luckily, this wasn’t a true vomiting session triggered internally—it was basically regurgitation brought on by external factors—like the seatbelt putting too much pressure on my over-packed tummy. My stomach snarls violently at the return of the sickly concoction.

You watch my struggle, fascinated. Reaching over, you put a hand on my palm, a hand that is quickly slapped away as I give you the fiercest glare I can muster.

“None of that until you get me home, darling.”

You grin, exaggerating taking your foot off of the brake pedal. I realize my poor phrasing a moment too late.

“As you command, Sweets.”

“Darling, no—”

[golden-barnes]

𝓛𝓲𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓭 𝓢𝓶𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓘𝓘: 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓶 𝓘 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓸…..

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: Spencer felt like nothing made sense but it didn’t scare him. Just intrigued him.

Word count: 1.2k

Warning: Mentions of the case they are working on, lil bit of angst and cursing. Mentions of suicide and eating. 

Author’s note: I forgot to mention that this is based on the Mitski song by the same name. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed. Sorry for the late update, I will be updating more consistently. I promiseeeee!

 Chapter I

All the hairs on Spencer’s arms stood up. Tara and Luke had left him in the interrogation room with her. She sat in her chair with her hands on her lap. Her back hunched, trying to close herself off from the world. She was humming to herself, as a technique to calm herself. Spencer didn’t recognize the song.

To say Spencer wasn’t worried for her would be a lie. Her face, when she heard that there was another suicide, would haunt him for a while. She didn’t even know what was going on; however, she was still affected by it. Spencer wanted to why. Like everything in life, he tried to get the how and why as fast and as efficient as possible.

Spencer looked at the file Luke had left on the table. Y/N L/N, grad student, linguistics. All of her achievements in 3 pages. She was smart. Her grades were impressive, and she even had a few papers published. Spencer would love to talk about them; her ideas were incredible, definitely academia-worthy. But it wasn’t the time.

Spencer quickly noticed the lack of personal information. No parents listed, no place of birth, not even a birthday. Blank, as if her life was only school. Even a letter from her preschool teacher was there. Y/N is very smart and helpful but does not interact with her classmates that much.- Miss Evelyn

“H-how long do I have to stay here?” Y/N whispered, still looking at her lap. Her body language was screaming one thing: stressed.

“I don’t know. I guess until we find out what you know.” Spencer answered truthfully. Trying to see if that will ease her worries. She took a deep breath.

“Listen, I don’t know anything. I’ve never seen these men in my life, and I most certainly have nothing to do with their uhm deaths. I’ve been living in the library for 3 months, trying to finish my thesis draft to send to my advisors. I don’t have time to plan some fucking suicides.” Y/N explained. She rubbed her temples.

“I believe you. It’s just that-” Spencer started.

“What? You think a grad student is a serial killer.” She interrupted. Spencer knew this was gonna be difficult, but this isn’t helping.

“This man, Nicholas Mclain, was saying your name before he died. His fiance said that he heard him on the phone several times the week before.” Her eyes widen at the information. Spencer continued.

“When SSA Alvez showed you the picture, you didn’t react, but when he mentioned the name, you looked uncomfortable. You recognized the name but not the face.” Spencer continued. Her focus went back to her lap, avoiding the picture Spencer had put in front of her.

“I-I don’t know.” She said honestly. Spencer could sense that it was making her more uncomfortable, and if that was the case, she was going to close herself off. He needed to build a repertoire if he was going to get some answers to this hellish puzzle.

“I know that you’ve been in the library for these past few months; I-I’ve seen you these past few months. I don’t think you’ve done anything, but I think someone wants us to think of you. ” Spencer explained; she looked at him with tearful eyes.

“Who would do that?” She mumbled.

“I don’t know, but we will find out.” Spencer promised. He wishes he could ensure that.

“The name of the newest victim is Elliot Lancaster. Another yuppie, but this time, it was more rushed. It was definitely staged to be a suicide.” Penelope told the Team. Emily nodded and turned to Spencer.

“Anything on L/N?” She inquired. Spencer shook his head.

“I don’t think she knows anything that is happening here. Oh, and Garcia, can you get me the rest of the file on her?” Garcia frowned.

“Sweetheart, I gave everything. She is like a ghost. I double-checked everything and only found that she is a brilliant cookie.” She said, slapping Luke’s hand that was trying to take one of the cookies she bought for herself. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Maybe there’s a locked file?” Luke added.

“But I would’ve been able to see if even if it was locked, newbie. I couldn’t find even an effing birth certificate, and she needs one for university.” Spencer was called to help find the missing puzzle pieces yet, he was even more confused. Mysterious family suicides, mysterious suicides, and a mysterious woman with no record other than academic records. How the hell was he supposed to figure this out?

“Where are you from?” Spencer asked the woman who was eating a sandwich giving to her by Garcia. After the third hour mark, everyone needed some fuel, especially Y/N. She grabbed the sandwich without even thinking. Spencer found another time to build rapport with her.

“Originally, from New York, but I grew up in Pennsylvania.” She said before taking a sip from her drink. She announced that with no hesitation, therefore she had nothing to hide. Then, where is that information?

“Did you like growing up there?” Spencer took a bite out of his sandwich. Garcia almost threw a shoe at him because he didn’t want to eat. Knowing that Reid doesn’t have any good eating habits, Garcia always makes sure he eats.

“I was surrounded by rich kids. Old money town, you know. Couldn’t wait to graduate. And even then, I attended a local university for my bachelor’s.” She commented, shrugging.

“What about your parents?”There has to be something there. Spencer thought.

“My parents had decent money; my mother was an event planner, and my dad worked cars. In the small town where almost everyone came from old money, they were “the help,” so they were on call every day. But that was okay; they went to every spelling bee and science fair and were home on the holidays.” Nothing in her words would sound any alarms. She was just average, not bad average. Just nothing that would scream evil mastermind. This just puzzled Spencer even further.

Emily entered the room, looking tired. Her undereye bags were more prominent, and she looked like she was running on pure coffee.

“Doctor Reid, Mrs. Y/L/N, if you would please come with me.” Y/N stop up quickly.

“Am I free to go?” She asked, almost desperately pleading for a yes. Emily gave her a sad smile. Y/N looked nearly defeated.

“Sadly no, we still don’t know who is behind all of this or if you are the next target. But you won’t stay here, we have a safe place where you can go, and one of our agents will be with you.” Emily explained. Y/N sat down, frustrated, rubbing her face. Trying to contain her tears.

Emily signaled to Spencer to get closer. Seeing as the young woman was distracted.

“Spencer, I am sorry, but you can’t go back to your sabbatical. I-”

“It’s okay, Em. I understand. I- uhm. I think I should be the one to go with her. She isn’t really trust, and I think I can get through to her. “ Spencer interrupted. Emily nodded at her friend and coworker.

“I think it would be a good idea. But Spencer.” Emily paused. She took a deep breath and looked at Y/N.

“Be careful. I think Y/N  knows more than she is letting on, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happens to you.” Emily whispered to the brunet.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” But why did Spencer feel like he was lying.

[enchantedblackrose]

Like I Love You

Jay Halstead/Plus sized Reader

Summary: Jay arrives at your apartment to pick you up for a date, but you're filled with self doubt.

¡Warnings! This potentially could be triggering. Poor body image, possible body dysmorphia, specific mentions of feelings of not being enough because of physical appearance

<Please, please lmk if I need to add any warnings.>

Loosely inspired by One Direction's Little Things

Like I Love You 

Your head throbs as hot tears of frustration continue to fall from your eyes. 

It was absolutely ridiculous to be this upset trying to pick out a decent outfit. After all, you've been successfully dressing yourself since age three.

But you don't have the mindset of a toddler. You're a jaded young woman with society's disgusting definition of beauty constantly shoved in your face. 

Deep down you know better. You know that the numbers on the scale give no indication of your beauty nor do they dictate your worth.

Sighing and trying to remind yourself that you are pretty, you again glance in the full length mirror. Standing there in nothing more than a top and underwear, fresh tears immediately fill your eyes. You only see flaws. Resisting the urge to poke at the cellulite near your thighs, you focus on your shirt. But the sleeves are cutting into your arms making them look weird. No, not weird. Fat. The too tight sleeves cause your arms to bulge. And the material clings to your soft tummy. You pinch the excess belly fat between your thumbs and index fingers, wishing you could squeeze it away.

You feel so ugly and gross. Angrily you pull the shirt off and throw it clear across your bedroom, where it joins a pair of jeans you couldn't breathe in and numerous other offending articles of clothing. None of which you look good in either.

You find an oversize t-shirt and slip it on before you just collapse on that very spot of plush carpeting.

Tears still roll down your face. All you wanted was something cute to wear. To be pretty. And go out with your boyfriend for a date night. He's a detective for the Chicago police department. The hours are already long and sometimes abnormal, but this week he, and the rest of the special unit he's a part of,  were logging extra hours on a particular difficult case. You haven't seen much of each other recently so you were especially giddy when you received his text earlier in the day saying there had been a break in the case which meant he could swing by your place and take you out on a proper date. Your reply had been almost immediate, telling him how wonderful that sounded.

You were surprised to hear from him again, still promising to take you out, but proposing you both meet up with his coworkers after dinner for some drinks. He included "begging" and "puppy dog eyes" in the message. 

Though you wanted to, you couldn't exactly say no for several reasons. You had already agreed to the date, so he knew you were free. Part of you suspected that he had done it on purpose. You'd accuse your favorite detective of entrapment later. 

You also were fully aware how much Jay wanted to introduce you to the coworkers he considered friends, having been invited to go out with them several times before. You kept putting it off.

Not because you had no interest in meeting everyone. Rather, the idea fed your worst insecurities.

What if they don't think I'm good enough? They're going to wonder what he sees in me. Then Jay will start wondering too. 

Wanting to do this solely for Jay's benefit, believing he deserved this after the hellish week at work, you went to your bedroom to plan your outfit. That's how you ended up in this nightmare. You only want to look your best, like you belong with Jay.

Nothing in your closet said that though. The truth of the matter was no one like him should be with someone who looks like you.

Cries turn to sobs. You draw your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly.

You hear the door to your apartment unlock, Jay using his copy of your key to let himself in. Hastily, you wipe at your face, not wanting him to see you like this; yet you can't find the will to stand. A loud, nasally sniff escapes you.

"Babe?" His still unaware voice calls out from the hallway. "I got us reservations." You don't answer back right away and you hear his footsteps approach. 

Having found you, he stops in the doorway. "Whoa. What kind of nuclear clothing explosion happened here?" He indicates to the mounds of clothes which surround you and cover the better part of the carpet and bed. His laughter dies as soon as he sees your tear-streaked, puffy face. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" his worry evident in both his voice and light eyes. He looks you up and down, frantically searching for any sign of what has you like this.

You mumble incoherently.

"What?"

"I don't have anything to wear."

"The floor begs to differ," he teases. You glare back, in no mood for jokes no matter how well intended. He holds up his hands signaling he meant no harm before he pulls you to your feet. "What's going on?" You huff a heavy sigh in reply. His hand caresses your cheek and softly "hmms?" at you encouragingly.

"Nothing fits right," you confess. He hesitates unsure how to respond, so you continue. "I look extra fat in everything."

Jay frowns. "I doubt that very much. You always look good. I love how you look dolled up when we go out and I love when you're in an old tee and sweats."

"That's nice of you to say-"

"Well I didn't say it to be nice. I said it because it's true," he cuts you off.

You give a tiny, weak smile. "I hate how I look." Your voice cracks. New tears sting your eyes.

He brushes the few teardrops that manage to escape with his thumb. "Baby, what are you talking about? You're beautiful." His voice is soft with a hint of sadness hearing you talk this way.

"This is not beautiful." You pat your flabby stomach, then your thighs. 

Carefully stepping to avoid the clothes which litter the floor, Jay makes his way to your bed and sits on the edge, still mindful of the garments piled there as well. He opens his arms, indicating for you to sit on his lap.

"My huge ass will probably crush you," you mutter.

"Baby-"

 

Exasperated you throw your arms up, "I look nothing like you!"

"Well I'm a guy and you're not so…"

"Stop. I mean you look like a freaking model. That face and those abs for days." You catch him looking smug, no doubt a witty remark is at his lips, but one glance at you and he leaves it unsaid. You continue. Your voice hushed, "I'm afraid of what people might think or say when they see us together. It's why I've been so reluctant to meet your friends."

His eyes sadden. He reaches for you, gently pulling you to his lap. When he speaks, his voice is soft, but stern, almost begging you to believe his words. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I honestly had no idea, but listen to me, please. The only people who get a say about our relationship are in this room right now, okay? So our opinions are the only ones that matter. You. Are. Beautiful." He pauses only to shush you when he sees your mouth open. "The way your mind works fascinates me. Your sense of humor is amazing. You continuously show compassion for others, which in this world is not always easy. I swear your goodness is innate. Your laugh is intoxicating. When you smile...I wish you could see how your face lights up and your body turns me on exactly how it is. I have never been attracted to anyone as much as I am to you. I love you."

Jay's words move you, but they're not enough to silence your insecurities. "Even though I don't have a thigh gap?"

His brows furrow. "I...don't know what that means."

"It means my thighs touch each other. They're not supposed to."

"Says who?"

"...society."

"Society's ugly, not you or your thighs." His fingers trace nondescript patterns on the bare skin in question. "Besides, thick thighs save lives."

"Jay!" You laugh despite yourself. He smiles in return and presses his lips to your temple.

"I love you too. You know that, right?" You ask, realizing you hadn't said it back and he nods. A hand intertwines with his as you look in his eyes, "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"You're not. We all have insecurities or things we don't like about ourselves. I just wish you weren't so hard on yourself. I'm sorry too if you felt I was putting pressure on you to meet everyone."

"Not at all," you shake your head. "That's just me being me."

"Still, if my friends have a problem with us being together for any reason, they're not the people I think they are. Truly though, they'd love you. Hell, if we didn't show up together I could see one of them hitting on you," Jay pauses if imagining it.  "But seriously. They'd adore you. First, because they're going to see firsthand how good you are for me. Then because you're you. Funny, smart-"

"But I want to be pretty, Jay. And look like we belong together."

Jay sighs, but not out of frustration with you. He's only concerned."You are. And we do. I know nothing I say is going to magically change how you see yourself...I get that. You have to be the one to work this out. I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes and love yourself like I love you. Maybe then you'd understand you're so worthy of self-love. I promise, I'm right here and I'm going to keep reminding you how beautiful you are in hopes you'll start to see it."

Your hand caresses his cheek as you fight the urge to cry again. He leans into your touch. "You do help," you tell him because it's true and to reassure him. "I'm so lucky to have you. I'm really going to try to not be so down on myself. Besides. I  really don't want to ruin any more of our nights."

He waves you off. "A night trying to get you to see your beauty is not ruined. And the night's still young. We'll do whatever you're up for. Go out for a bit. Stay in and order food. Whatever."

A small smile appears on your face. You quickly peck his lips with yours. "I just want to wash my face before we do anything." Jay nods. You slide off his lap and head to your bathroom across the hall.

The light flickers for a second as soon as you hit the switch. You go to the sink, turning the water on and letting it run to get to the perfect temperature. Standing there, you glance into the vanity mirror. Your face is still slightly puffy with a few soft pink splotches across your cheeks from all your crying. You splash the water on your face and repeat the action several more times before using a fluffy towel to pat dry your face. You stare back into the mirror. And smile. It reaches your eyes and illuminates your face. You reach a realization. However fleeting or permanent, you don't know. But right now in this moment, you feel it. 

You're pretty.

-

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Business AU - Working Late, Part 1

Just a quick idea to test more and play around this AU I’m trying to build. For the sake of taking it easy, I’ll use my OC Vee 😊

Vee didn’t realize how late it was starting to get until she finally glanced away from her computer screen and towards the large windows the building had to offer. The sky was turning to a dark blue, the city’s lights creating a halo around the various skyscrapers. Many coworkers had already left the place and most of the main lights were off, leaving only some bulbs on towards the main hallways here and there for the cleaning team. Well, at least those hours will give me a better pay..., thought Vee as she stretched her arms, trying to ease the stiffness in her shoulders and at the base of her neck. ... All she could think about was getting home and enjoying a nice warm drink to ease her into a better sleep. Or she could always enjoy a nice glass of red wine - the latter much more enticing. Collecting her handbag and coat, her feet instinctively proceeded towards the large room’s exit, until her eyes caught on a glow that wasn’t usually there. It was coming from the nook of a small hallway that led to a room not usually used by any employee. Vee’s reasoning first led her to believe that someone forgot to turn off a switch, but her curiosity actually wondered if another soul was still occupied in this building. She approached the source calmly, taking a peek while still standing by the doorframe of the small space. At first she noticed many tables and shelves, a plethora of paper rolls, books and drawing equipment decorating the room in an organized chaos. Then she noticed him. She had seen the turtle brothers many times ever since she’d been employed barely a month ago. At first it had been a surprise, but now it was simply pure fascination. Vee recognized this one to be Donatello, the tallest of the bunch. His shell was facing her, his attention all on a large sheet of paper laid on a drafting board. The woman couldn’t help watching him for a moment, his movements ever so precise with his scale ruler and his pencil. As he paused to admire his work, Vee studied his form. Even with his white shirt, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, she could still decipher the subtle shape of his muscles - all thanks to his trainings. He wasn’t as built as his brothers, but he was toned enough to bring a blush on the woman’s cheeks... “You can come forward, I won’t mind.” His voice broke her thoughts. He didn’t even turn around as he had said that, probably feeling observed anyway. Vee suddenly felt embarassed, her audible gasp finally grasping the turtle’s attention. “Oh, uhm, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your work. ... I saw some lights in the distance and was wondering if someone forgot to turn off something...”

His golden eyes made her trail off her last words, internally melting as she saw the sweet smile on his lips.

“No worries, I know it’s late,” he added. “I’m mostly surprised someone was still working as well.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen whenever I’m too focused,” shyly answered back the woman with a smile.

“What were you working on?”

Vee was silent for some seconds. Am I really having a casual conversation with one of my bosses? she thought with a slight frown. Donatello’s soft chuckle made her realize she was probably taking too much time to answer.

“Please, I won’t bite,” he said. “I’m actually enjoying this break from my work. If you have a minute or two to spare before leaving, I don’t mind having a little conversation!”

The woman conceeded, finally entering the room and taking seat on a chair that was nearby the mutant’s desk. In the process she did not notice the other taking a good look at her, most presumably enjoying her presence. Vee first straightened her back once seated, extending a hand for a shake.

“Well, first of all, hi. I’m Véronique, but you may call me Vee. I’m the newest project manager overseeing the creative team. Everything regarding the company’s outer image has to go through me first.”

“Color me impressed, that’s quite the title,” replied Donatello, shaking her hand. “I do recall seeing and hearing your name a couple of times for the past weeks. You’re our newest addition coming from Montréal, if I stand correct?”

“Indeed! It’s been a dream of mine to come work in New York City, so I am extremely grateful for this job.”

Her hand felt so small in his. Gosh, she could feel her cheeks warm up...

“But I’m blabbering now,” she added, freeing herself from his hold. “I was trying to get through the upcoming evaluations I’ll have to give to the team and revise some designs that are supposed to come out by the end of this month. So it’s crunch time much.”

“Oh I do get that,” smiled the other. “Deadlines can be such a curse. ... I’ve been working late myself as well for a Lower East Side project.”

“What would that be, if it’s okay to ask?”

The turtle gave a better view to his board, revealing some intricate structure designs laid down on paper.

“The Lowline,” he started. “I can quickly summarize it as an underground park that allows sunlight in and vegetation all around. It’s been years since the city had this under work, and I’m trying to push it into completion. ... But there’s a lot of structure issues that needs to be addressed.”

Vee stood up, taking a better look to the drawings. Some calculations could be seen on the sides, but the trickiest parts were clearly the solar collection disks and underground domes that would distribute light. The whole idea in its whole was great, but in the long run it would prove to be a challenge in terms of weather changes and various issues - may they be of human nature or not.

“I’ve heard about it,” added the woman. “And I do hope it’ll come into fruition. It sounds like a great idea overall.”

“Indeed, but I feel like my lines are not organic enough for this line of work,” sighed the mutant. “I’m used to buildings, mechanics, and more ‘structured’ work. ... The city has more of a round and nature-friendly image in mind, so I’m trying to keep that in mind for my designs. Alas my drawings are resembling a prescholer trying to learn how to draw a circle.”

Vee couldn’t help a small laugh at that last remark, smiling as she looked back to the male.

“Don’t be so harsh with yourself, it’s already better compared to some employees around here.” She then pointed some lines. “I could definitely see an improvement here and there if you were to use a compass and smooth the lines, rather than guessing with a ruler and free-handing it. I understand the calculations, but you’ll have to trust the papers’ measure lines for it to truly work and give better measurements for whichever company would handle the creation of those structures.”

“... Have you worked in architecture before?” asked Donatello with a small smile.

“No, but I’ve done plenty of illustration works before and I can recognize the different needs for when you’re drawing buildings, compared to ‘organic’ structures or just plain vegetation.”

Their eyes met, Vee noticing the other’s amusement. She promptly moved away from the drawing, moving away a stray strand of teal colored hair from her face.

“... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tell you what to do...”

“Oh no, no, I appreciate the insight!” reassured Donatello. “I should ask more of it in the future, in fact. ... Would you mind surpervising my work once this hellish end of the month has gone by? I could even help you, if you accept.”

Did she hear that right? Her slight astonishement made her feel like everything was a dream.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” she answered. “I’d look forward to it, in fact.”

“Excellent!” added the turtle with a small clasp of his hands. “Then I guess I’m done for tonight and I can rest easy for now.”

He backed his chair a bit, allowing him enough space to stand up afterward. Vee could feel this knot forming in her stomach and throat, truly noticing their differences in size as the top of her head only came up to the height of his shoulders.

“If you don’t mind, we can head towards the exit together? I wouldn’t want you to get attracted to another light source and get lost once more,” he joked lightly.

Vee did a small snort in amusement, suddenly blushing after such display. She did nod through her shyness:

“Yes, that would be fine!”

She tried not to think too much about his smile, his presence such a nice feeling overall... After a small detour to his office so he could collect some of his belongings, they next headed to the building’s exit, and all Vee could feel was as if she was floating on a cloud...

((PART 2))

[littlelovingmouse]

ranting about being sick under the cut because it's kinda gross and you know me, i love a good long rant

sure excited for this syrup to finally fucking work after i tried tylenol, advil and buckley to stop coughing every five minutes; it's been an hour!!!

i have been sick for two weeks now, with what is apparently my first real flu since primary school

like

i usually (pre-pandemic) get two or three colds a year because of weather changes and a lower-than-average overall health

but it's NEVER this bad

i've taken 4 home covid tests so far and they all came up negative, so there's that, at least

but it still fucking sucks

my throat NEVER hurts when i get a cold, i always get, like, hay fever symptoms, basically, and exhaustion, but since monday my throat has been terribly sore and i have been coughing grossly

and my vocal chords have been out of order since thursday!!! my cat is sad because i can't meow back anymore!!! i can't go to work because my coworkers won't hear me in the loud as fuck restaurant's kitchen, i can't game on discord and roll20 because my friends won't hear me on my computer's microphone, i can't even call 811 to ask if should go to the hospital because the nurse won't hear me over the phone!!!!!!

and strangely enough i have not sneezed ONCE since i started coughing - it's like i have an entirely different disease than the week before

also my temperature has been staying under 36.5 the whole time, i even got 34 once, i was like 'okay but that is not physically possible, i should be dead' then i used the thermometer two more times and got 35.8, which is still weird but is at least plausible

i can't sleep because i have to get up every two hours to cough out a grape sized chunk of mucus the most disgusting green you have ever seen and then blow my nose non stop for twenty minutes

and after two weeks of blowing my nose constantly i'm starting to see a little blood in the tissues like, my nose has had enough

*i* have had enough

and i hate that i have to rely on my bf for errands because obviously even if i don't have a fever i'm not gonna show up to the pharmacy, the convenience store or the grocery store while coughing my lungs out, i hate it because i'm usually the errand person and i feel like a burden because i can't do much at home either, i barely have the energy to do the dishes, and i'm supposed to help my bf with his work for university but i can't focus on anything longer than a shitpost for more than five minutes

what's even weirder is that even after two weeks my bf is still not sick himself - like i'm a tiny bit bitter to be suffering alone but mostly worried because he usually gets sicker than me when we catch something...

also, what was the point of asking for my vacation pay as extra money if i have to take days off work anyway????

and on top of it i feel like an asshole for whining about this because my friend's 2 year old daughter apparently has the same illness and she's suffering because she's fucking TWO, like how hellish would all of this be if i was two and i didn't understand why it hurts to swallow my own saliva and why i keep coughing so bad i almost throw up every time????

(i probably got it from her, too, but i can't complain, she's been sick for a week longer and her parents are at their wit's end tbh)

i just hope i can at least go back to work on tuesday, though it seems unlikely at this point... i don't want to go to the hospital and wait for hours to see someone, or worse, actually catch covid

i keep flashing back to what little i remember of the whooping cough i got when i was 5 and the repeated laryngites i had as a kid, like, 'was it ever that bad??? i don't remember ever being this sick... but surely it was worse back then, right???'

meanwhile people are out there dying in droves while i'm sniffling and grouching on my couch like a wimp

at least those covid tests aren't as bad as people said, it just triggered a few sneezing fits (back when i was still sneezing)

okay i'm gonna try to at least wash the dishes before dinner so bf can cook right after he's done with work, whining over