#my flatmates from last year which I'm really close to... I feel like I don't matter that much to them anymore

[marinonso]

I have so much time and so much love I need outlets I NEED OUTLETS and I know I'll find one! and tomorrow I wake up and the day after tomorrow I'll wake up and again and again and again and the stars are up and bright and again and again and again

[firespirited]

So, uh, I had a nervous breakdown - emotional meltdown - mental overload and guilt spiral of sorts that culminated in 5 fully blank* days and nights (*I keep a "times, meds, symptoms and activities" notepad). It's over now as far as I can tell as the cause has stopped, I didn't harm myself beyond some self neglect or cause pain to anyone else. I'm ok, picking up the pieces and determined to get treatment.

Not even sure if those are the correct terms and feel kinda uncomfortable using them like I just "spontaneously broke" as opposed to getting broken down by others but no one here is ready to talk about that so Emotional Breakdown™️ will have to do. Now that I've done a bunch of research and self-examination it was more of a PTSD reaction, a prolonged emotional flashback that I didn't know how to stop and with no outside relief or help.

Long post under cut

I was unfortunately mentally lucid and reacting to very real things but in an emotionally disproportionate way... which was actually not very impressive at all since everything but the sobbing and some talking to myself was happening on the inside, in the foetal position in my pitch black room because who knew? Stress in the neck or face sets off the mega migraines 🙃.

Very uncinematic. Barely an inconvenience to my flatmates. I force-fed myself bread, water and whatever meds might cause withdrawal if discontinued, fed Lily her pain meds at around the same time every night. I'm going to get a good grade in not being a danger to anyone or myself 👍👍👍

I began sedating myself as soon as the urges for inside pain to be visible on the outside got strong enough to actually visualize concrete ideas. Nothing with withdrawal potential: a few months worth of anti allergy meds, M eventually called the doctor once I ran out and had to tap in to my sleep meds, 5 days in to the full-blown meltdown.

Why sedation? I happen (lol no, it's actually pretty related to the ptsd) to be an expert on all things suicide and didn't want those thoughts to even get close to started.

My doctor is stellar, she believed me, didn't act like my grief was unwarranted, prescribed more anti-histamines and kindly but firmly told me to stop blaming myself for other people's choices, we just can't control how other people choose to act. The self loathing had started from a seemingly obvious pattern and spiralled way out of any kind of logic. That grounded me a little on Wednesday.

We talked over my options : the local psych ward is the opposite of restful or safe for migraines; the care homes have waiting lists, especially in summer when people drop off the elders to go on holiday but she's going to try and find me a slot if the current home stability breaks again. Not having any extended family or local friends meant no escape and that didn't help mentally either.

I feel like I've had a really bad flu, I feel very fragile. I feel like things have been very unfair but also not safe enough to indulge any anger about it, not here and now so a sort of numbness has settled in... emotional that is, the migraines are stomping my head and also irritating the bowels because why not add insult to injury? 😂

Mum's violent mood swings were over on Thursday morning and on Friday I decided I had to face life, get back in the saddle before fear could kick in and helped sis go to an appointment that she was very nervous about. Just about managed then crashed the rest of the day.

It felt good to be useful 😊💖and I needed the perspective of there being a whole wide world out there, not just the lovely tumblr folks in my phone 🌸💕🌸 who are close but also unreachable.

Moral of the story, if there is a moral to any of this, … ? Repressing your fears and emotional pain for 30 years will turn you into a sobbing blob with little to no control so don't assume you're handling things because, yes technically you are, until your last tether breaks and then you're just a trauma response at full volume.

Oh and flashbacks don't automatically happen visually or in nightmares like in the movies. I already knew that for me, specific memory flashbacks seem to cause a hollow and weak nauseating feeling like when adrenaline is wearing off but now I know emotional flashbacks are more of a paralysing overwhelming series of waves of many strong feelings. One of the more identifiable red flags among the general mess of emotion for future episodes would probably be irrational and very potent guilt/shame.

So uh yeah, sorry I haven't checked in for over a week or done much of anything, I'll try and catch up as soon as I can 🥰

So now it's beyond confirmed : I have PTSD from stuff that ended over a decade ago, stuff from far older too, you think time heals all but it doesn't heal untreated wounds and I'm going to seek treatment no matter what.

It's mortifying to talk about but if I tell you lovely people, well, I can't run from it any more.

I'm also going to need to set boundaries with some very fragile people but not without the help of an expert, I've been caring for sis and her borderline tendencies for over a year this time around and not been allowed to set limits. Mum's crossed a line she can't even see yet. It could be months before that's a subject we can safely approach.

I have a post in my drafts from last November about finding great happiness in a bare room of a few boxes, a mattress and the internet and how I'd be quite content to live that way again: peace really is worth it. It's like a letter to myself that this was coming and reassurance that I've been happy before despite frightening change and financial poverty.

I have duties to my family and they too have been good to me - there's the expectation that therapy will "toughen me up" to better manage but I can tell from just that disastrous first session with mum present, that boundaries will be part of the deal. That's the most frightening and delicate part. I have been eldest daughter, big sis, selfless friend and good kid™️/parenting kid from my very first memories, any change will be perceived as not being me any more (maybe even to myself), it'll also go against deeply ingrained societal and personal habits.

__________

In other news Lily turned 16, she is happy and healthy. She's been with me for 9 years.

I was hoping to train a new therapy dog as she's been retired for a couple of years and even lined up a sweetheart of a rescue called Vanina. That can't happen yet. Or maybe that's something I need. Idk.

I don't expect any major pivot in the doll hobby, watch habits or Patreon/support to friends at this point but it's all in the air.

Looking forward to getting back to normal and also cherishing (in an odd sort of way, maybe that's not the right word) this moment as a "survived it!!" thing but also "WOW you needed help and it's overdue".

Take care of yourselves lovely people. See you soon.

[tarabyte3]

Title: Wants, Needs, and Clerical Errors

Fandom: Andor

Characters/Pairings: Kino Loy, Kino Loy x F!Reader

Chapters: 3/3 (8.8k words)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

AO3 Link | Playlist

Summary: You're only on Narkina 5 due to a mistake on your transfer paperwork and no one in charge seems to care. The work is horrific and being the only woman there is a nightmare, but Kino Loy is... intriguing. (Okay, he's hot. He's very hot.)

Tags: Explicit rating, smut, prison, prison sex, sex, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, attempted sexual assault, fear of sexual assault, violence, blood, minor character death, fluff, happy ending

A/N: In terms of writing style, chapter 3 is my favorite. 🥺 If you've read this fic before, if you're reread it again because of this post, or you just discovered this fic for the first time: Thank you. I really hope you enjoyed it.

Chapter 3 - Like a flower waiting to bloom, Like a lightbulb in a dark room

Like the desert waiting for the rain Like a schoolkid waiting for the spring I'm just sitting here waiting for you To come on home and turn me on - Norah Jones, "Turn Me On"

You get out first.

You have two hundred and thirty eight days without him, which is fewer days than you had with him, but it still feels immense. Before, you had guards and work and routine keeping you apart, and now you have time. Though you're free and can move about as you please, or sit and do nothing if you want, there's still a weight on you that's holding you back from truly savoring it. As if a part of you is still in there, and, in a way, it is.

You have two hundred and thirty eight days and so you wait.

Your first stop is home to collect your meager possessions. You didn't have much to begin with, and, over the years while you were in prison, you ended up with even less. You don't blame your former flatmate for slowly downsizing your belongings. You're grateful she kept any of it at all. And she did keep the important stuff, like most of your clothes and gear, as well as a few sentimental items—the most important of which is a trinket box with a false bottom that holds credit chips you'd squirreled away in case of an emergency. It isn't much, but it's something.

No, having fewer things means there's less to get rid of yourself. So you grab your belongings, make the most uncomfortable attempts at small talk in which she intentionally avoids asking about or mentioning prison at all, you say thank you, and then you leave. And you don't look back.

It's all very anticlimactic. You imagined this scenario many times in your head your last few weeks on the inside because you weren't sure how it would go, and you couldn't exactly message her to let her know you were getting out. Now that it's over so quickly, you have no idea why you were worried. Even as you realize you'll never step foot here again, you feel nothing. No lingering sadness or regrets. No yearning to give the building one last look. That place stopped being home a long time ago.

You go directly back to a transport and purchase passage off planet. You and Kino had discussed this part many times. What you would do, where you would go, and where he would meet you. You'd settled on a colony in the Mid Rim that you both knew of, one with less Imperial control than some of the others—or last you heard anyway. It had plenty of people and industry so it wouldn't be too difficult to blend in and make a living. Two days after he gets out, you'll meet him at the station in the capital. It's a long journey to get there from Narkina 5. Your first flight doesn't take you all the way to your destination, either, but it gets you closer.

It also takes you farther away from him.

You'd wanted to stay close so that when he got out, you could travel to your new home together. But Kino had insisted you go ahead and settle in. Get as far away from Narkina 5 as you could. While you understood why he wanted that for you, you didn't have the heart to tell him there is no way you can be comfortable anywhere until he's with you.

Because leaving him behind means not knowing. Things can go wrong in a prison. Accidents, illness, over eager guards. Thinking about it makes you feel helpless and also a little pathetic. He had survived just fine without you. He isn't helpless. He's smart and he's good at his job. He's going to get out.

You repeat that to yourself the entire time on the transport while you're trying to avoid the gazes of the other passengers. The last thing you want is more uncomfortable small talk. You aren't sure you remember how to do it anymore. "How's the weather? Where are you headed? Oh, do you have family there? Have you heard about the news out of the Senate?" You'd rather be building parts.

Your next transport is longer and you have a cot that folds out from the wall. It's more comfortable than your prison bed, but that makes it rather uncomfortable. Your body doesn't fit in the dips the way it should, and the softness of it makes your right shoulder ache so you can only toss and turn instead. You've been out for nearly two days, but you haven't slept more than a quick doze in your seat. The adrenaline of freedom and a plan is forcing your body to keep moving. Now, maybe, you're overtired. Even the air feels wrong. Heavier somehow.

It reminds you of your very first night in prison—the women's prison. You had cried, feeling scared and sorry for yourself, because everything around you seemed so hostile. You had to sew, press, and wash uniforms all day—three different shift rotations—and your hands hurt and your back ached. The dormitories were rows of bunk beds in an open room, not the isolated cells of Narkina 5. The guards had locked all of you in at night without a care of what happened inside. There wasn't anything for the other prisoners to steal or any reason to be violent, but a few of them were just cruel and bored. That was how you learned to fight. It was all you had outside of work and you were eager for the distraction. Some way to protect yourself and the more vulnerable women in there. To feel like you were doing anything that meant something. You didn't sleep much those first few weeks, but the first night was the worst.

When you do finally sleep in your transport cot, you wake up in a panic because nothing is familiar. There should be masculine voices throughout the hallway and the sounds of people getting ready for your shift. Instead the only thing around you is the hum of the ship and soft whispers of casual conversation, and it's so dark. But then you remember, and you're relieved and heartbroken all over again.

You wonder what Kino is doing at that moment. Based on how long you've been traveling, it's evening there. So you imagine Kino sitting on his bed, legs stretched out in front of him and hands folded in his lap as he leans against the wall. Maybe he's talking to your replacement. Telling him all the things he needs to know to survive and help keep the shift moving. Or maybe he's sitting quietly and thinking about you, too.

"If we met in a different life, do you think we would have still ended up together?"

He turned to look at you sitting next to him. "What do you mean?"

"If we weren't in prison, but we were in, say, a cantina, and you saw me across the room. Would you be interested?"

"You're serious?"

"Yes! There's nothing else to talk about in this bloody place, so this is what I've got. So. Would you hit on me?"

"Absolutely not! I wouldn't think for one second that you'd look twice at me, so I'd sit there like a coward and steal glances at you all night."

"Kino! You're one of the most determined men I've ever met, you're not a coward."

"I am when it comes to beautiful women." You scoffed, but he continued, "Did I or did I not run away from you in the locker room?"

"I thought that was because you thought it would be inappropriate."

"It is inappropriate, but I ran because I was terrified."

"But I was practically begging!"

"And I still thought it was because I'm floor manager! Not because of me."

"I can't believe this."

"You asked!" He gave a quiet, gruff laugh. "What about you? Would you hit on me?"

"Yes! I would see your dour, grumpy face sitting at the bar and immediately want you, just like I did looking down at you from the lift—before your charming speech, by the way, so before I ever knew you were the floor manager. Then I would go stand next to you and make a fool of myself giving you heated looks and biting my lip until I had your attention." You looked him up and down with a heated gaze as a demonstration. Then you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes with your best flirty smile, and gently bit your lip as you let your eyes roam hungrily over his face. "Like that."

He exhaled, long and ragged. "That would have been effective."

"Then would you've flirted with me?"

"I probably would have been scared shitless, if I'm being honest."

You gave a fake, exasperated sigh and thunked your head back on the wall behind his cot. 

At the next transport station, a man walks by you and, as he passes, he tries to steal your pack. That's when you remember you are still capable of surviving on your own. Your heart aches, yes, but you're still alive and still in the best fucking shape of your life.

Your grip on your strap tightens as it's pulled away, keeping it held in your grasp. He seems caught off guard that his momentum doesn't carry him forward with his prize like he planned. So when you turn and your fist meets his stomach, he doesn't see that coming, either. He doubles over, collapses to the floor, and curls in on himself, his hand falling from your bag to clutch at his middle. You stand patiently over him as you settle your pack back onto your shoulder.

There's a guard there in moments. 

"What's going on here?" He shouts. He has all of the puffed up entitlement of someone that thinks they have authority, so you give him a placating smile.

"I'm so sorry, sir! It's really nothing. This gentleman and I bumped into each other. Must not have been watching where we were going! I can't believe it." You plaster a look of concern on your face and bend over who you now realize is a young man that can't be more than twenty years old. He's still groaning slightly and rubbing over his stomach where you punched him. "Are you alright?" The concern in your voice is genuine, you realize. "You hit my elbow pretty hard while you were hurrying. I'm so sorry about that! Let me help you up."

You hold a hand down to him, and he looks between it and the guard with suspicion before hesitantly taking it. With a tug, you help him to his feet, though you make a show of it being at least a little difficult. He's scrawny, all long limbs, and weighs barely anything. His hand feels small in yours. Fragile against your calluses. He's still just a dumb kid. You feel a twinge of guilt for how hard you hit him. However it is outweighed by the fact that he just tried to rob you.

"There you are. Good as new." You wipe off his shoulder and give him a forceful pat. He jumps at the contact. Then you level your demure smile back on the guard. "Thank you for the assistance, sir. I think we'll be alright."

"You're sure?" He doesn't look convinced. He probably wants an excuse to do more. To throw his self importance around and have one of you arrested for some reason or another so someone can tell him he's doing an excellent job keeping the peace. But you've gotten quite good at defusing these situations. Of handling men like him.

"Oh, absolutely. No trouble here."

"Alright, but in the future you should both be more careful. Watch where you're going or someone could get hurt."

You give him a serious nod. "Understood. Eyes forward at all times from now on, promise. Have a good rest of your day, sir."

He looks between you one last time and, with a grumble, returns in the direction he came from.

Once he's out of earshot, you turn on the would-be thief and hiss, "You have no idea what I just saved you from! How lucky you are. Trust me when I say the places they'll send you aren't worth a few credits. You'll be my age by the time you get out. So either be smarter or knock it off. Got it?" He just stares at you, wide eyed in confusion, so you press closer with a look of fury and keep your voice low. "Answer me! Got it?!"

"Yeah, okay!" He takes a step back, cowering slightly, with his hands raised in submission. "I got it."

"Good." You relax your posture and adjust your pack one last time. "Now fuck off."

He doesn't need to be told twice and scampers off so fast that he trips a bit on his own feet. The encounter lifts your spirits somewhat. Not because you enjoy punching people, especially not kids, but because it reminds you that you could protect yourself if you have to. It makes you feel confident you can get through this—physically, at least. Plus, hopefully you just scared some kid straight enough that he stays out of prison. If not, he'll have plenty of time to think about what you meant and wish he'd listened.

You're suddenly starving. You buy your first real, solid meal of a kebab, a savory hand pie, and purple chips from a kiosk, instead of just downing a quick protein bar out of necessity. You eat exactly like a person that hasn't properly tasted food in years. Which is to say you shovel it into your mouth with so much enthusiasm that you don't savor it and the pie burns your tongue, but it's the best thing you've ever eaten. Nearby, a couple watches you with concern and trepidation, but you just smile back at them, wide and uncaring, between bites. Nothing is taking the joy of this moment from you.

"And you're sure it's what you want?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"I can't cook very well."

"I don't care."

"I leave my towel on the floor sometimes."

"I don't care."

"I get distracted halfway through doing something and leave things sitting out in a mess until I remember what I was doing and go back to it. Sometimes for days."

"Oh." His eyebrows furrowed in thought.

There it was. The other shoe dropping. You braced yourself, ready for the distancing and the apologies to start, but then he smiled and pulled you against him. He kissed your hairline and murmured against your scalp, "I don't care. So stop trying to talk me out of it."

"I'm not trying to talk you out of it, I'm giving you full disclosure of what living with me is like." You thought of sitting with him on a couch, curled under a blanket as you both watched a holodrama together. You wanted it so desperately that you were almost afraid to hope for it.

"It sounds perfect to me."

You get a place within walking distance of the station. It's a long walk, but it's the best you can do. The flat is nice—it even has a little balcony overlooking the street—though you aren't sure if it's actually nice or if you are just grateful to have space and furniture again. Still, it's comfortable and roomy, and it has potential. You walk through it and see the foundation of something you can build on. You and Kino.

Paying the first month of rent uses up most of the remaining credits you had saved up. It's okay, though, because they had served their purpose. Gotten you this far. The rest is up to you, and the thought isn't as scary as you expected. You're truly on your own, but you've been through worse. You are strong. You can do this.

You buy some paint and a large piece of scrap and make yourself a calendar to lean against the wall. You carefully draw out the months and days in neat grids. Inside each square is a number. It starts on the day you got out, because you wanted the relief of crossing those off, and ends the day he should be here with you. All two hundred and thirty eight of them—now two hundred and thirty three. Every night, before you go to bed, you mark off the day and look at how many are left. Some days it surprises you how much time has passed, and other days you lament how many little squares there still are. They pass regardless.

You get a job at a small factory that builds transport and mining vehicles. They had laughed at you initially, until you told them you had over two years of experience building heavy machinery parts on an assembly line. Technically. Before prison, you would have grimaced at the thought of a factory job and missed the shop you used to work at, even though you had been accused of stealing. It hadn't been you, it had been your co-worker—the owner's son—so your innocence hadn't mattered when you were arrested. But for now you need something to keep yourself busy and the pay is decent. Plus, the work is just strenuous enough to stop you from feeling something that seems too much like homesickness for your liking. You know you shouldn't miss that place. It isn't healthy.

However, the work's still not nearly as labor intensive as what you're used to. Maybe because they put you on lighter machinery. Most of your job is operating lifts and welding vehicle frames, and you find, after training, you're actually quite good at the steady precision needed for the work. You even come in and practice on scrap to get better. Or maybe it just seems easier because the intense pressure to produce, to keep moving under threat of pain and death, is finally absent. You even get weekends off and leave days.

Some of your co-workers invite you out for drinks at the cantina down the street after work. At first out of interest, and then out of concern because you don't have anything resembling a social life. A few of them even hit on you in the beginning, but you tell them bluntly that you aren't interested. That you have someone. One of them asks where he is, and the broken look on your face when you say, "he'll be here soon," puts an end to any attempts to flirt with you. They don't ask again, and you don't offer anything more.

Thankfully that allows room for casual friendship, the kind you once had with the men at your pod on Narkina 5, and it's nice. It feels less lonely, though that ache in your chest never goes away completely. It follows you around like a constant companion. Wraps its way up your throat, even as you laugh at a joke. You do go out for drinks occasionally, but mostly you go home, read a romance holonovel, and wait.

You masturbate a lot, as well. Every night, you lie in the large bed and think about finally having him there with you. About all the ways you'll kiss and touch under the covers. How he might bend you over the bedside and fuck you from behind, or sprawl across the middle while you climb on top of him and ride him, his hands on your hips and your toes bracing against the sheets. You think about all the ways he touched you before, a slideshow of memories while your fingers work between your folds and against your clit as you desperately seek a release that makes you feel a little closer to him. You climax moaning his name.

Your last night together had been tender. Everyone cleared out of the showers early and left you alone for longer than you usually had together. They all knew what was happening and what it meant, and it was the one thing they had to give you as a going away gift. He braced you against the tiled wall of the shower stall like he had the first time you'd had sex, but this time he had been so gentle. You both relished every touch, every kiss, every slow, deep thrust of him inside of you. You made love like you would never see each other again, though you would never say the words out loud. Never give voice to those worries, even if they hung unsaid between you. Afterwards, you had sobbed as he held you and whispered that everything would be alright. You clung to him like he was a rock in a storm at sea up until the very last minute you had. You'd been so afraid that if you let go of him, you would drown.

But there you were, going through every day. Surviving and waiting.

"If you find someone else, I'd understand."

"Kino!"

"Someone young and attractive."

"You're crazy."

"I'm realistic."

"You're not." You climbed into his lap on his cot, uncaring who was watching, and straddled his hips. He hissed a protest, but you ignored him and held his face in your hands. "There's no one in the whole galaxy that can hold a flame to you, do you hear me? When I'm out of here, the only thing I'll be doing is working and waiting for you. Because I love you." You leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "And you're so goddamn sexy, why would I want anyone else? If the floor was asleep right now, I'd be on my knees showing you just how sexy I think you are." Then you placed a kiss on the scruff of his cheek. "And you're brave," a kiss on his temple, "and brilliant," a kiss on his nose, "and noble—"

He interrupted you with a kiss on your lips and you smiled into it as he wrapped his arms possessively around you.

Months pass. Five, then six, and finally there's less than a month before he's there. Your mood picks up and hope fills your lungs. You catch yourself smiling and humming at work. Your co-workers, the ones you occasionally think of as your friends, notice. When they ask what's up, you smile, maybe the first true smile you've ever given them, and say, "Kino is going to be here in twenty days." And that is enough of an explanation.

You haven't talked about him often. Not because you're ashamed, but because it hurts. And because, selfishly, you want to keep all of him to yourself for the time being. But they know the general idea of your circumstances. That'd you'd been in a men's labor prison due to a clerical error. The only woman—or at least you had been when you left. That he's still there. That you'd risked your lives to be together. That he's a good man that tries to keep everyone going and out of trouble so they can get out. That now you're waiting for him.

A few of them seemed skeptical about your story, whether it's disapproval that you met someone in prison or disbelief that he'll actually turn up when the time comes. You didn't care then and you don't care now. All that has ever truly mattered is that date, looming in the distance and drawing ever closer. The others were—are more supportive because when you do talk about him, you know your face lights up. The clouds of your gloom part for the briefest of moments with his name on your tongue. So twenty days is revelation.

You start to fret that you haven't made your flat welcoming enough. That he's going to come home to something just as sterile as what he left behind. You buy better sheets, a comfortable blanket to drape on the couch, a vase for the table, good towels, any luxury you can think of that neither of you had on Narkina 5. You have the credits for it. Other than rent, food, a few necessities, and the occasional drink out, you've saved everything. You want to enjoy it with him. To build your home and your life with him. Plus you have to admit, while standing in a street market, looking at baskets and rugs and decorative hangings, you aren't even sure what he likes. The thought makes you laugh.

You count the squares.

19.

You get promoted at work to a senior welder position. It's fast, but everyone has to admit your work is high quality. A natural talent. You relent to a last drink out to celebrate. You still go home after one.

13.

You buy a nice dress to wear to the station. Something that flatters your frame and waist, in a color that complements your own coloring, and it dips low between your breasts. You hang it on the wall of your bedroom and admire it every time you wake in the morning.

8.

You get a haircut. A proper one, not just a trim so you can keep it tied back and out of your face while you work. It's layered and feminine, and it's the first time you're reminded of the person you had been many years ago. Though looking in the mirror now, you're still so different. The rounder, softer features of your youth are completely gone and have been replaced with high cheekbones and a graceful jawline. Getting older suits you. Reflects the new confidence you have in yourself.

5.

You buy a bouquet of flowers to set in the vase on the table.

4.

You clean. The place is already tidy because you don't have or do much, but you're so full of nervous energy that you're starting to fret over the small things. It has to be perfect.

2.

You're convinced you're going to pace a permanent line on the floor. You beg your supervisor to let you work overtime, but they don't need the extra hands. He tells you to go home with a knowing look.

1.

Tomorrow. He gets there tomorrow. You want to crawl into bed and sleep as long as you can to make the time move faster, but you're too excited to sleep at all.

0.

You have an entire week off. You'd traded shifts, worked a few weekends and longer hours when you were needed to build good will, and never took a day off your entire time there, so your supervisor gave you the whole week. A whole week with just Kino.

You get to the station early because you have no idea what time he'll get there. Or which transports he's taken during the trip, so the screen that displays times and ships is no help. You're in your dress with your hair done and just a hint of makeup to accentuate your features.

You alternate between sitting on the bench and pacing around. Whenever a new crowd of people appears, you stop to anxiously look for his face, only to be disappointed when he isn't there. You smooth the fabric of your dress for the hundredth time. It's plenty smooth, but you don't know what else to do with your hands.

He arrives early in the afternoon. You've been waiting for over seven hours, but in your anxiety and impatience, it's felt like an eternity. Your feet hurt a little because you aren't used to the nicer flats, just your work boots, and you're so glad you didn't pick out heels.

You see him first.

He's in a blue jacket and a black shirt and pants, and you realize you've never seen him in anything other than the white and orange uniform. You also realize the uniform hadn't been as flattering as you thought. Because right now, surrounded by so many colors, flashing ads, and the warm station lights, with his beard a little longer and his hair relaxed from travel, he looks stunning. The most handsome man you've ever seen in your life. If you weren't already madly in love with him, you would have fallen for him completely the second you laid eyes on him.

His expression, however, is grave as he scans the crowd, and you note the tension in his shoulders. The way his hand is nearly strangling the handle of his bag. It occurs to you that he's worried you won't be here. Because just as you didn't know what was happening to him in there, he had no idea what was happening to you out here. He didn't get to see how you had survived and waited and built everything for this moment. The thought causes a pang of heartache for him that you feel like a punch in the gut, and your eyes sting with tears.

Right then, as if he can feel your gaze on him, he turns to you. You see the recognition on his face the second he lays eyes on you, and your breath catches at the way his uneasy expression gives way to relief. You both stare at each other, absorbing the moment. Processing that this is real. He's right there and you're right here. It's finally happening. The noises of the station fade away and the only thing you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.

Then the moment passes and your feet are moving. You're running towards each other as if you're both terrified the other one will somehow disappear if you don't. That, in your desperation, you somehow imagined this. Someone is shouting at you to slow down as you run by, but it doesn't matter because you fall into his arms and then that's the only thing that matters. He drops his bag at your feet and hugs you to him so tightly that he nearly lifts you off the ground, which is good because the relief of his touch makes your legs unsteady. You're surrounded by his arms, his warmth, his scent, and you think it can't get better than that, but then he's kissing you with two hundred and thirty eight days of pent up grief and passion.

Every part of you feels like it's being ripped from a deep sleep. You feel it in your throat, in your chest, your fingers, down to your belly, where it finally pools to your core and you ache. Of course you had touched yourself at night while you thought of him between your legs, but having him in front of you once more is a jolt to your system. You feel alive.

You finally pull away because you want to see his face and hear his voice, to learn the new feel of his softer beard beneath your fingers, because you've missed him—all of him—so much. There are tears in his eyes and he gives you a watery, joyful laugh as your hands run over his cheeks and chin.

"My god, you're beautiful." He finally says in his low, gruff voice, and fuck have you really missed that.

"Kino," you sob because you have a million things you want to say to him, but you're so overwhelmed that you have no idea where to start.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here." He caresses your face back, and swipes his thumb over a tear on your cheekbone that has escaped your eyelashes.

"You are. I almost can't believe it! I've missed you so god-damned much. I–" You take a trembling, calming breath and look into his eyes. They're so blue and warm. His hand on your jaw and the feel of his beard beneath your fingertips is comforting. It grounds you. "Welcome home."

He kisses you again, right in the middle of everything, as people continue to part and file around you in irritation. It quickly turns desperate and heated. Your hands tangle in his hair while he moves to grope along your ribs, and you convey every ounce of your yearning against his lips and tongue. But you know this has nowhere to go. Not here. So you force yourself to part from him again, placing a few final kisses on the corner of his lips as an apology. Because when you start this, you want to finish it.

"We have several blocks to walk home. We should do that now before we make everyone uncomfortable. Besides," you place a kiss on his temple, "we have a rather nice bed waiting for us when we get there."

He groans your name into your hair, but doesn't need any further convincing. He picks up his bag, and you take his free hand and lace your fingers together. It's the first time you've ever been able to casually hold his hand, and even this, something so simple, is a balm on your tender heart.

As you walk through the city, past store fronts and food stands, the two of you finally get the opportunity to talk. You tell him about your job and how you surprised yourself by enjoying it more than you expected. How you'd just gotten a promotion for your skill. At that he stops to sweep you into his arms again and to tell you how proud of you he is. You beam at his praise. Even now, it still means more to you than any incentive or reward you could ever get. You tell him about the co-workers that have been nice and are eager to meet him, though you leave out how, in your misery, you've kept them at arm's length. When you're both comfortable and settled in together, maybe then you'll pick at that wound. Or maybe, with him here, that wound will heal. You'll let your walls down and you won't have to.

You ask about what happened after you left, and he says there isn't much to tell. Other than someone from table one also getting out, things had continued on much the same—just without you. Your replacement hadn't been as fast at the delicate work like you were, though, so your table hadn't gotten above third place after you left. You try not to feel smug about it because you do feel sorry for your old pod. And even for the new man because you know it isn't easy. You know how scary all of it is. For a moment, you also feel a pang of guilt that you hadn't thought as much about them as you had about Kino, or wondered how they were fairing. He can sense the slight shift in your mood and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't need to say anything because you can hear his words in your head: "None of this is your fault." You give him a small, grateful smile.

You stop him when you finally see your building down the street, and bring his hand to your lips and place a kiss on his knuckles. "See that building right there?" You point to it and he follows the line of your finger to the corner. "That's it. That's where we live."

He looks at it with awe, and it softens him. He always looks younger when he isn't frowning or so serious. As you watch his face, you realize how overwhelming all of this must be. It had been for you, too, but you had something to do—to focus on—to help you process the emotions. You were also the one paving the way, so it happened for you in steps. He left Narkina 5 and then walked into a whole new life.

"It's perfect." His voice is shaky, far from the commanding shout of Kino Loy, shift manager, and you tilt your head to rest on his shoulder so you can admire it with him.

"I think I appreciate it a lot more right now." You stand there with him, holding his hand and offering him comfort, until he's finally ready to move on.

You both make it up the stairs to your second story flat while he absorbs every detail of the short trek. Inside, you expect him to look around some more, to take everything in and explore the rooms after you've removed your shoes. Instead he drops his bag by the door, closes the space between you, and pulls you in for a deep kiss. In the privacy of your home, you finally allow yourself the low, shameless moan that has been building up inside of you. It feels like its own release, an expression of the longing you've felt all the way to your core.

His arms roam your back, slide down to cup your ass and squeeze over the fabric of your dress. He uses the grip to pull you flush against him and you can feel the firm thickness of his arousal straining against his pants. Your hands slip inside his jacket to run over his chest, along his sides, and around to the planes of his back. The shape of him feels familiar, and yet it feels different. The fabric of his shirt is softer, clings to him in a way the uniform hadn't. So you appreciate his form in a new way with your exploring touch, and it feels like rediscovery. Relearning how you both fit together now, and the thought is exciting.

"You look incredible," you murmur against his lips. "You didn't warn me you look so fucking hot in blue."

He chuckles, deep and rich, and the vibration tingles your chest. "I didn't know. No one's told me before."

"Galaxy full of idiots," you grumble.

"What about you? God, I love this dress. Look at you," he growls.

"I'm glad. I bought it just for you." You give him a heated look and whisper, "So that you can enjoy taking it off of me."

He sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes flutter closed. He takes a second to center himself. When he opens them again, he levels you with the commanding, determined stare that you're so familiar with. The one you can never resist.

"Show me the bedroom."

You take his hand and press it to your chest. The heel rests against your cleavage and his fingers brush your collarbone, covering your pounding heart. You walk backwards, slowly, not taking your eyes off of him, and pull him down the hall with you. It's a straight shot until you reach the door, but you take your time and the effect it has on him is palpable. He stalks after you, frame tense, predatory and hungry. It sends a thrill down your spine.

The room beyond the doorway is tidy, the sheets and blankets are clean and fresh, and the bed is made. You had only added a rug and airy curtains, so it's a little sparse, but it's light and cozy in off whites and peaches. More importantly, it's yours. Before you can say anything, he scoops you up into his arms. You almost forgot how strong he is. How effortlessly he can carry you around. It occurs to you that you can finally explore the implications of that now. You have that freedom.

He walks you past the threshold, across the room, and sets you down on the edge of the bed. Rather than push you back against the covers, he straightens to stand in front of you. You look up at him expectantly and he brushes the back of his knuckle down your cheek.

"I want to appreciate this. Truly, I do." He begins to casually take off his jacket. He pulls his arms out of the sleeves, unhurried, as if he's getting undressed after a long day. Then he meticulously folds it over his arm and tosses it to the floor without looking. "But that will come later. Right now, I just want to fuck you."

There's a responding throb of wetness between your legs. You nod eagerly and choke out, "Yes."

"I want to show you how much I've missed you." He starts on the buttons of his shirt. You wonder if you should be helping, but your hands are trembling. You're not sure you can work a button right now without ripping the threads. You aren't sure how he can work a button right now. He only pauses to pull the fabric from his waistband. Otherwise his pace is infuriatingly steady. "I want to hear how much you've missed me when I do."

"God, Kino." You reach out to greedily touch his exposed skin. You didn't think his outfit could get any hotter, but now his shirt hangs open and untucked from his pants, leaving his chest and stomach bare, and you couldn't have been more wrong. You want him to walk around like that from now on. You imagine him standing in front of the kitchen sink, barefoot and shirt open as he washes a plate. Him on the balcony at dusk, leaning against the railing, looking out across the city with those piercing blue eyes as his hair is ruffled by a breeze and he's bathed in rich, fading sunlight. Him entering the bedroom, rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves on his undone shirt, pleased to see you lounging on the bed and reading, and his trajectory changes towards you as—

His finger under your chin pulls you from your thoughts and you note the hint of amusement on his face. As if he can read your mind. You flush and, with only a small amount of regret, help him push the shirt off of his shoulders, letting your hands skim across his arms as you slide it down. You can feel him shifting beneath your palms as he moves to pull it off the rest of the way. It joins his jacket on the floor.

As his hands move to work on the button of his pants, you climb to your knees before him. You're eye level now and it helps you feel more in control instead of at his mercy. He stops to watch as you reach behind yourself and unzip the back of your dress. The fabric relaxes on your body, no longer pulled taught around you. You don't take it off, though. You still want him to do that.

He doesn't pull it over your head. He pushes it off your shoulders and drags his rough hands along your arms as he peels it down, just as you had done to him. He leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Soon it's pooled around your waist and your top half is exposed. He hungrily takes in the sight of your naked breasts and stomach, but doesn't touch you. Your body has softened while you've been apart. There is still strength there, but your curves are rounder without the constant demand to work or fry. You think it's the perfect balance of toned muscle and feminine figure. He clearly agrees by the way he almost loses his composure. Almost.

"Lie down." His voice is still low and steady. At his command, you sit back down and lay onto the covers. He braces a knee next to your calf and grips the sides of your dress. You raise your hips to give him better access, which earns you a grunt of approval. As he slides it down your legs, he's very focused and gentle, taking care not to rip or damage it, then he lays it on the floor with more thought than he had given his own clothing. It's only when he turns back to you that he realizes you aren't wearing any underwear. And you've let your legs fall open. He groans at the sight of you.

"I just got here and you're already trying to kill me." His gravelly voice rolls over you and you let out a faint whimper.

"No, I'm trying to encourage you."

"Like I need any encouragement." But his eyes continue to linger on your damp sex.

"You're still wearing pants." You spread your legs wider, exposing more of yourself to him. Reluctantly, he looks down at himself, as if he's only just remembered, and he quickly pushes his pants and underwear off in one motion. You can't help but notice that he still carefully steps out of them, an echo of his previous control, which is rapidly dissipating. Finally, he's completely nude before you.

Your memories hadn't done him justice. Hadn't captured the way his muscles flex as he moves or how his chest rises and falls as his breathing quickens at the sight of you. The mesmerizing pattern of grey in his beard and hair. The little curls at the nape of his neck that refuse to lay flat. Hadn't captured the play of light on his skin and the shadow at the hollow of his collarbone, or the lines of his hips when he's poised and ready to climb on top of you. Hadn't captured the view of his thick erection framed by your own legs. Or the way the wrinkles on his forehead deepen with stern concentration when something has captured all of his attention, like the way you're drawing your fingertips along your inner thigh.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" You sound far needier than you meant to. It's almost petulant, but you've waited so long for this and you do need him.

"I'm making up for lost time." His heavy gaze rakes across your body as he drinks in the view.

"Would you like a show? Or would you like to make up for lost time in a different way." You trail a finger from your thigh towards the mound between your legs.

His hand twitches and his jaw clenches in thought as he weighs his options. Or he's waiting for you to beg, and you're getting close to that point, but you want him to just take you.

"Because I can give you a show." You inch further down, barely brushing along your folds, and you watch his length twitch with interest. "I can show you what it was like for me here every night. How I touched myself as I thought of you." You press your finger so it's just breaching your entrance and you react with a tiny gasp.

At that, he stares down at you, lips parted in agony, torn between wanting to watch you and wanting to be the one pressing inside of you.

"How badly I wanted you." You drag your moistened fingertip up across your bundle of nerves. Your hips buck, seeking out more contact, and your head lolls back as you moan out, "Kino!"

The mattress dipping as he presses a knee onto the bed is the only warning you get before he's on top of you. You pull your hand free just before he dives forward and buries his face into your neck. His erection is pinned between you, laying flat against your stomach. You immediately wiggle your hips, trying to bring your arousals closer together, but he's strong and unyielding above you.

"I almost forgot how little it takes for you to drive me absolutely fucking mad," he says against your throat. He nuzzles where your pulse flutters beneath your skin, and you continue your vain writhing beneath him. "I hope you're prepared to not leave this bedroom today."

You want to give him a smug grin, but are incapable of doing more than reacting to the attention he's lavishing on the spots he knows get the biggest rise out of you. Because driving him mad had been your intention and you're getting exactly what you want, but you also forgot to mention: "I have the whole week off of work."

He stops for a second, lips frozen below your ear, and then he pulls away to raise himself onto his hands so he can look down at you. "A week?" His expression is intense and inscrutable, which accentuates the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

You nod, still breathless. "And the weekend."

Without another word, he moves and positions himself between your legs—exactly where you've wanted him this entire time. And for a brief moment, right before he plunges into you, you're nervous. It's ridiculous, you think, but it's been a while. And this feels so much more real compared to sex in a closet, which had also felt real until you could compare it to this moment. This is your first time together in your home, on your bed. It feels significant. Transformative in a way you weren't expecting. As though every decision you've ever made led you to this moment.

You're so full of desire and nerves and anticipation about finally getting what you want, and it blurs together in a heady mix. Then finally, after what feels like a lifetime of waiting, he buries himself into you with one hard thrust. At his deep groan, the noise and static in your head are silenced, and all that's left is him.

"Kino," your voice is pleading, desperate, but you don't have to say anything more. Don't have to beg because he's rocking into you at a frenzied pace before his name even dies on your lips.

His lips find your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. He kisses and bites, causing you to gasp and cry out, and his beard rasps your skin. You hope all of it leaves a mark—that you're a canvas of bruises and burns later. His.

You grip his shoulders, hook a leg in the crook of his knee, and curl the other around his waist so that you can hold on to him. It's all you can do to keep yourself steady while he fucks you. Every snap of his hips sends a spark of pleasure through you that continues to build, wave upon wave.

You want it to last, to stay in that heightened state of arousal, wrapped around him, full of him, skin burning—but then you hear the low rumble of his voice.

"God, I've missed you." You can feel his hot breath on your cheek and his voice in your chest. "Missed fucking you."

You turn to capture his mouth in a hungry kiss. He grunts against your tongue and it's all you can stand. You surrender to your climax, unable to moan or breathe until that first peak finishes rolling through you—and then you are gasping and sobbing his name. His hips pick up speed, relentless through your pulsing and clenching around him. He has a solemn look of concentration and his jaw clenches from the effort. Finally, his whole body stills, tenses against you. Then he follows you over that edge, his face slack with bliss, and spills himself inside of you with a moan that sounds like your name.

Every part of you is satisfied and at peace. The sex was fast, and hard, and desperate, but it was the best sex of your entire life. It was two hundred and thirty eight days ending. It was both of you free of that place. Free of the masks and roles, and never having to keep your distance again. It was the two of you as you are and as you can be from now on.

You pull him down and into your arms. He goes willingly into the embrace, bonelessly tucks himself against you and under your chin. You run your fingers through his thick, grey locks and feel him give a content hum. Your poor heart, which is still trying to calm down, lurches in your chest.

"Kino Loy," you smile, "I think I might be completely and hopelessly in love with you."

He tilts his head to give you a tired hint of a smile back. "And I think I might be desperately in love with you, too."

You continue to lay there, nude and intertwined, because you can, and say the words back and forth to each other, each phrase more certain than the last, until you fall asleep.

"I suppose I should get rid of this now."

"Get rid of it? Why?"

"I mean, I don't need it anymore. You're here."

"Why don't we hang it on the wall?"

You look at him in confusion. "Why?"

"Because it shows what we both went through to be together. Every X is a day we survived so we could get back to each other."

You love it. Suddenly the visual reminder of the time between you was a reminder of a time passed. It didn't seem quite so depressing anymore.

"Plus, it's cute. You made a calendar, love. For me. And look at the little heart over today!"

You blush, a little embarrassed. "I told you all I was going to do is work and wait for you."

"You'll never have to wait for me again. I'm here and I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

"Hmm," you pretend to think, "I don't think either of us will live that long. Forever is a long time."

He laughs deep in his chest, his eyes and nose wrinkling in amusement, and, finally, you're home.

[anis-book-club]

review: the cuban girl's guide to tea and tomorrow by laura taylor namey

read: 21 january 2024—22 january 2024

medium: audiobook

⭐️2/5

every time i think about this book i want to drop half a star from my rating.

it's okay. it will stay at a 2/5 for now.

usually i don't take the time to actually review a book because i am busy and tired, but i just keep thinking about how much i want to talk about my issues with this book.

i think this book really bothers me because i lived lila's eventual dream life. i moved from the united states to england for university three years ago, and there are a couple of things that just felt really off about lila's character arc and the characterisation of the british characters.

as i said, i'm american and therefore i don't have much claim to knowing exactly how british people act and speak, and that awareness made me wonder if laura taylor namey had it right and i was wrong. later i spoke to my british flatmate and she sort of validated some of my issues with how the british characters spoke—namely that i think i heard/read the word "bloody" more times in the less-than-nine-hours duration of this novel than i have in the entirety of my three years living in the u.k. there may be some regional and generational differences in speech, but "bloody" doesn't really seem to be a prominent staple in british gen z slang in my limited experience. it honestly felt like an american-held stereotype of british speech given personality (and not all that much personality if i'm being honest).

moving on.

i felt like the writing of lila's coming to love england wasn't done very well. this is something that i closely understand and identify with, and the way it was handled in this novel felt very abrupt and awkward. if you're going to tell me that lila 'loves england', you have to show me as well, and i don't think that was accomplished. i took greater issue to it because a big part of her monologues about 'loving england' was that, for her, england was tied to orion. it started to feel like she only loved england because she loved orion. this isn't strictly true, and i think she does cite a few other reasons why she wanted to stay in england, but tellingly, i don't remember what any of them were. i know that not every person who moves to england will fall in love with it the way i did, but i remember being absolutely in wonder at the architecture, the culture, the atmosphere, the transportation links, the blend of modernity and antiquity, and so much more. i didn't get that feeling from lila's narration, and i think more time should have gone into exploring that.

a couple of very small lines at the end compounded this feeling of "that's not how that works". the first was a conversation between lila and pilar, where she says the word "petrol" instead of "gas". the second was her telling orion that she had submitted an application to a university in london and started applying for her student visa.

let me explain.

in my experience, vocabulary shifts take a lot of time. when you grow up into early adulthood saying one thing, it's not going to take only two and a half months for you to slip out of that and randomly start using another word. there are certainly some british words that someone might intentionally switch to using as opposed to the american equivalent.

for me, that was words like 'uni(versity)' over 'college' and, more recently (as in, in the last four months or so), 'trousers' over 'pants'. these are both because 'college' and 'pants' mean something different in england than they do back home, and i use these words daily to discuss my uni work. also, to me, 'petrol' is such a random choice. in my entirety of living here, i've probably heard the word 'petrol' only a handful of times. granted, i live in london where i and all of my friends use public transportation, which might not be the case for lila—i can't remember.

regardless, my point is that if your vocabulary is going to shift within only two months, it's going to be a word you use and hear daily, and you'd probably have to put the mental awareness into using the new word. her slipping up speaking to her american sister and saying 'petrol' just doesn't seem realistic. there is a plethora of more common words that namey could have used to make it more believable.

finally, i think i had a visible and audible reaction to the student visa comment. in public.

this was such a small comment in the grand scheme of the novel but it made me wonder if namey had researched at all how applying for a student visa from the u.s. to the u.k. works. if all of my above points are strictly subjective and reliant on my individual experience, this is the single point i will make that is based in facts.

the specific statement is something like "i applied [to the uni] and started my student visa application this morning" (i'm not entirely sure of the wording nor punctuation, i no longer have access to the book). i read this as she'd submitted her application to study and her application for a student visa on the same day, but i will allow that it could be read as she had submitted her application to study on an earlier date and had started the visa process that morning.

it doesn't matter which interpretation is the correct one because it doesn't make sense logistically either way. i've had to apply for two student visas over my three years of studying so far. to apply for a student visa, you need a number code that is given to you from the school after you've been accepted. for both courses i was accepted into, the application process started in february or march at the very latest, and it took over a month for me to be accepted. from then, it took a few months for me to even get that number code so i could start the visa application. you can't really get very far in the visa application process without that code because it's the thing that tells the u.k. government that you have a school sponsoring your residency.

even if she applied to the school as soon as she got home (and she didn't), there would still only be two weeks between then and her telling orion that she had started the visa process, which is definitely not enough time at all. it's such a small detail, but that was the final straw for any believability i might have given the novel credit for previously. it made me feel like this wasn't a well-researched novel, which is a shame, because i do believe that namey really loves england, and i wish she had let this interest show in her work.

if i didn't have these experiences, i don't think i would have noticed these inconsistencies and misrepresentations.

anyway, i read this book because i learnt while doing research for an essay that kit connor is cast in the movie adaptation. will i still be watching the movie? yes. because while it lacked depth and all i have done in this review is discuss some of its faults, it was still a sweet and relatively enjoyable read. i definitely think that the movie has the potential to be a very lighthearted and easy thing to watch.

tl;dr because i recognise that this review is, indeed, too long: this book was cute and lighthearted, though it lacked the sort of depth i usually look for in novels. there were a lot of inconsistencies in the writing of the british characters and lila's love for england that bothered me because they paralleled my own experiences, but not well. i recognise that this might be entirely subjective and someone else could find that lila's story was a great representation of their individual experience.

[c03xistentw01]

I'm losing my mind cuz yall get f***ing crazy when it's summer

neemol? I'd like to ask how it is that you are self-satisfied that you can have the ethical audacity of even thinking that the whole world should be up for giving you 24hr service??? "explain the concepts of the course" :)))))))) wtf even idk how to explain my surprise. do you think i'm what omg I'm so angry and actually getting mad later when i get u to face the reality of how we are all equal in this life so nobody is actually higher than other people and this means that first of all your shit is your shit and second of all there is not a single known reason for why your priorities should appear as more important than mine. Welcome to the world sweetheat this is how it works. hope u get used to it

that piece of shit 1/3 of a flatmate that i have dude do u think im stupid why are obssessed with closing everything i open and opening everything that i close and banging things when u know im concentrating while FULLY KNOWING that you are being a dick and aactully enjoying it one day i'm gonna f***king kill you and that will be a pretty dark day in my life.

for the other 2/3 piece of a shit of a flatmate that i have: dude are u actually autistic or you're just some other kind of a dickhead? I really hope it's 1 so i wont have to deal with your ass as well.

ferdos?? dude I stayed at home today because of u because u asked me to see u and i thought the act of eating together is actually a thing and i was worth a little bit of waiting i suppose?? and not telling me that we would have to eat with those self-centered-miserable dicks? I mean....I'm disappointed but also surprised which is the worst combination.

berfin? what was with "whay yoo always doo dees? 1) what? 2) what always 3) if its always AND annoyinh why u didnt tell me earlier 4) i think hilal is a sensible 26 year old right? so me reminding BOTH of you that it's not a good idea to walk home in the sun at 2 fucking pm in fucking june, that was like sinister? damn the world has changed dramatically compared to when i last saw it as meaningful and actually understanable.

update: after this hurricane of a day i had, apparently i was being prepared for a bigger shit at home from the 3/3 piece of a shit of flatmate: "I want you tomorrow to clean the BlAcK MoLd in the dishwashing vase". excuse me are you my mom???????

"what did you do this week?" I cleaned the fucking floor 2 times

"aHaw"

bitch after all this time still thinks I'm a liar. I'm sorry for her. This will never get fixed. She will never get fixed.

update: to be honest, after these hours I'm still not able to process her audacity. But the thing is: she is sick and needs psychological help asap and i feel so sorry for her that i can't even take it personally. Like dude, she is not a normal functioning human being with a healthy and matured attitude. Don't break a sweat. She does not change. you did the best thing after all this time not trusting her. I knew all along i was doing the right then the entire time, damn i think i trust my instincts.

the more i think about it the more i can't get my head around it. was the bitch actually giving me punishments for thinking that i lied to her ass :))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) omg I'm dead.

[satellite-loved]

10/04/19 Hey Mark hyung, My mom just called me to tell me I have to consider being frugal. This month’s electricity bill came and maybe the fact that I’ve set up the air conditioner to its maximum for most of the past few weeks added too much in the total. Out of habit, my excuse. She said I should maybe save up now that the bills will all be on me until I find a new flatmate. I have been looking. I set up an announcement on one of the university group pages on Facebook but I guess no one really needs a room halfway into the semester. Hey, that was a shitty move you did there - leaving midway and leaving me to pay up all the expenses for a room for two that I can barely afford. That was foul. Now I can’t do retail therapy or else I’ll be demoted. I can feel a cold coming up with this negative temperature. I wonder how this calmed you and your Canadian ass. Anyway, you're weird. We've gone through this. Who goes away and moves continents just because their roommate AND best friend 'accidentally' drunk confessed? Weird. Anyway, fuck you. Anyway, I'll get my revenge one way or another. Pick up your phone some time. Donghyuck - 11/11/19 Hey Mark Hyung, I never got any letter back. Just in case you kept your response under your pillow to mull over every single night trying to decide whether you're sending it or not. You never sent it and I'm still waiting. Donghyuck - 12/01/19 Hey Mark Hyung, Finally got a new roommate. Boo you. Advance Merry Fucking Christmas to me. His roommate moved out too but for respectable reasons unlike yours and happened to scroll down to my month old Facebook post. Who knew they are many fuckers out there who leave a semester midway which then leaves many angels out there looking for new flatmates. Anyway, his name's Jeno. Bet you don't know any Jenos, he's got a unique name. He's my age and he looks like a cat but is allergic to them even though he owns 3! You may have seen him around if you look at my socials which in fact I know you do. We've been getting along well. He's kind of unfunny, sometimes even worse than you but at least he's here to help me with the bills and eat dinner with me everyday. Weirdly, I don't get used to eating alone. Donghyuck - 12/10/19 Hey, It's the last day of finals and I'm pretty sure I flunked that but at least Jeno came to pick me up and brought me to this good ramyeon place. He said at least I tried my best. Who knows a miracle comes and I somehow get to pass? Did you even get back to college yet or you sat this semester out and waited for the following year? If you did, I hope college's treating you right. I bet you're doing fine if you did. You always do. Take care, Donghyuck - 12/25/19 Hey Mark hyung, Jeno confessed to me and you know what I did? I didn't run away. Donghyuck - 12/31/19 Here's the summary of the story: Jeno's roommate never left. His boyfriend who coincidentally is Jeno's close childhood friend decided to move in with him which meant Jeno being kicked out of their flat. Both of their decision. The roommate being a 'kind person' found my old Facebook post about looking for a new flatmate. It so happens that roommate remembers me as I quote "Jeno's first college crush". We apparently took the same Bio lecture during my first semester. You know that class, that one where we skipped our college lecture for the first time because I suddenly felt dizzy and almost fainted and you took care of me. That one. Anyway, he must have been in a different lab. Point is, his old roommate set it up and now we're here. Jeno said he likes me but not to feel pressured to return his feelings. He just simply wants me to know is all. He even asked if I wanted him to move out which I said no, of course. I can't live frugally and he's well, he's kind and a good company. I don't even know why I'm telling you all these. Do you even read every letter I've sent? Or this goes straight to the trash bin as soon as you receive it? Anyway, that's the story. Just tell me to stop sending you these and I will. Donghyuck - 1/14/2020 Jeno and I went on a date. I have to stop thinking what it'll be like if it were you instead. That's unfair to him and unfair to me too. Donghyuck - 2/14/2020 Hey Mark hyung, this is what I have learned these past few months: you were never coming back. Writing to you was pointless and I wasn't rich enough to throw away my life and fly wherever you are. In Canada or in New York or wherever it's cold and snowing. Maybe I thought it will bring you back. Maybe I just wanted to get mad at someone. Maybe I just wanted someone to share what's on my mind without the brain to mouth filter. You were that someone because you were close, because you knew me best, because you understood me and despite not at times, you let me be. I'm trying to make peace with it now. I talked about you with Jeno and he listened. Sometimes it just happens. You lose people or they go away. Don't get me wrong, it was still too much for you to move continents. The normal would be to just move rooms or as far as move universities. Was I that distasteful? The answer is no of course but it would've been nice to hear that from you. This is the last one. Whether you read just one, or none or all of them, it doesn't matter anymore. Just hit me up when you're back in Seoul I guess. You owe me at least 2 months worth of electricity bill. Take care.

[end of chat] ---- [new chat from Lee..] 2/15/2020 Hey Donghyuck....-

[lil-meows]

Train to Busan~ Zombie AU chapter 1

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Jungkook x Tehyung

word count: 1k

Warnings: Profanity, violence, cannibalism, character death, blood. 

Summary: At a time when the Dead rule the planet, the living do their best to keep running. 7 boys, a grief leaden girl and one train, could the road to Busan tie two stranded hearts together as they claw their way towards survival?

.

Just as Taehyung was growing impatient, a whistle was blown across the platform, signaling the arrival of the Busan train. Yoongi inwardly groaned at the timing, having to put off a newly lit cigarette while Hoseok, on the other hand, gladly flicked his cigarette butt onto the floor. By this point, Taehyung was a choking mess, but he had other things on his mind other than his rude flatmates:

Jungkook.

The train doors were opening up and passengers were pouring out, but no one looked familiar. A commotion was already building up with so many people around but Taehyung refused to take his eyes away. "Remember Tae, we're in public, don't look too gay. I can't risk getting arrested again" Hoseok leaned towards him and yelled against the crowd, his breath smelling too much like nicotine for Taehyung's liking. He would have complained if it was another time, but he just spotted his boyfriend wedging his way between two busty ladies, eyes frantically searching for a familiar pair, and all of Hoseok's words went straight out of the window.

Jungkook locked eyes with Taehyung across the platform, his heart beating a million beats too fast. For a few seconds, Jungkook was rooted to his spot, smiling like a complete ass as Yoongi would say when he was violently pulled out of his floral trance:

"move you little bitch!" Jungkook was not-so-kindly pushed to the side by an elderly man, clumsily dragging his suitcase over Jungkook's foot. Jungkook groaned in pain, clutching his foot and dropping his own suitcase at the process, all what he was able to mumble out was "piece of dick" and "fucking seoul..."

"Kook!" Taehyung rushed to his boyfriend, Yoongi and Hoseok close by. "Goodness kook are you okay? Are you hurt-" His words were completely cut off when Jungkook pulled him into his chest, all pain gone and he was suddenly surrounded by Taehyung's scent. Lemons and soap. Taehyung wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck. An action too intimate for "two best friends" but they couldn't care less. It's been two fucking years.

Hoseok was bouncing on his heels with nerves, his discomfort completly oblivious to the two lovers.

"Guys, lets go. Once we get home you can fuck into oblivion but for now, we need to get the fuck out of here" Yoongi said, breaking the intimate moment. Jungkook turned to look at him, eyes all doey and confused for a second before he registered who the two men standing in front of him were...

"Yoongi hyung! Hoseok hyung!"

.

.

"So that's what you've been doing these past two years!?" Jimin gasped dramatically "JIN, did you hear that, Jungkook spent the past two years playing Bingo with the grandmas!" he giggled, finding the situation funnier than Jungkook does.

"Shut up Jimin, last thing I heard you were stripping for a couple bucks a night, isn't that right babe?" Jungkook turned to Taehyung, a coy smirk shadowing over his lips.

Taehyung looked extremely uncomfortable, eyes shifting between his boyfriend and Jimin. "Actually kookie, that's not what I said, I said I think he's stripping, it was never confirmed" Jimin leaped from his chair "I'm going to fucking murder you Kim Taehyung"

"If anybody stains my couch one more time I'm putting your eyeballs on the Christmas tree" Jin threatened, walking over to Jungkook and handing him the sandwich he was preparing. "Namjoon will be here in like... 10 minutes, he's bringing food with him" He gave Jungkook a lingering smile, "you've grown so much..." he whispered, eyes glowing with affection. He stroked Jungkook's hair out of his eyes and Jungkook groaned, swatting his hand away "I'm not a baby anymore Jin-" Jimin snorted loudly "says the dude who was-"

"I said shut the fuck up Jimin" Jungkook growled, fell silent, and broke down in giggles straight after. And soon enough, the room was filled with deep laughter. He wouldn't voice it out loud, god forbid, but Jungkook truly missed this. All of this.

It was while they were all watching the 9 p.m news, pizza crusts scattered over cardboard boxes, chopsticks' wrappers littering the floor and beer cans in clutches, when it all dawned over him. Jungkook scanned the room, a sense of warmth travelling through his body, all the way to his fingertips. He watched as Yoongi made a lewd comment about the news anchor's choice of wardrobe, lighting his third cigarette of the night and watched fondly as Hoseok lost it. Taehyung gripped Jungkook's waist tighter and snuggled his face against his neck, taking in his scent. Jungkook's senses were screaming, he could've sworn that this can of root beer, tasted a hundred and two times better. All because of the 6 men around him. It felt like home, like-

"-3 police officers. The suspect is currently being held in the Seoul Train Station police department and is going to be transferred to the Central Hospital of Seoul as well as be held accountable for the injury of 2 citizens. This is the fourth case Seoul has encountered this week, in which all suspects shared same odd symptoms of a disease yet unidentified by doctors, it is indeed.."

"Dude's probably just high" Yonngi groaned, leaning over Hoseok to put off his cigarette. His own ash tray was a closer option.

Jin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his Adams's apple bobbing as if he was preparing to say something. "All these cases are not just high dudes, Yoongi..." He gave Namjoon a look, and turned to Yoongi who had his eyebrow raised, already on his next cigarette "I feel like it might be something bigger..."

Jungkook, who has been quiet this entire time chocked out a breath he was holding in and all eyes turned on him. "Bubs is something wrong?" Taehyung asked, eyes wide in alarm "Jungkook, what's wrong" Jin urged him.

He's not imagining it, he really did see it.

They're lying.

Jungkook swallowed hard, pointed at the T.V and whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "That man. I saw him in the train station" he looked around the room once again before settling his eyes on yoongi. "I saw him, he was eating someone"

[mrdanielbond]

Bond’s New Flatmate (Chpt. 9)

“Just trust me...”

Summary: As a way of helping cope with the troubles you’ve faced for the last two months, Jonathan decides to treat you to a holiday to Geneva and it is a well deserved break. A holiday with a hunk you like to drink with? What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: I don't think this chapter is as great as it could have been, I'm going to be honest. There is a little Night Manager reference...If any of you get the hint. ;) Remember Jonathan is an actor of your choice!

The two of you sat in a train cabin, heading for the airport in Ireland after stopping for a connection flight to Geneva. During this time, you enjoyed the idea of going abroad with a friend as you hadn’t been abroad in years, maybe this was the well deserved break you were looking for after all. However, the handsome gentleman across you still left you with doubts ever since you decided to accept his offer. It did take you a few days and he was patient with you, then when you told him you would be joining you, he was elated.You hadn’t seen a man this way since your dear ‘husband’ had gotten married to you.

Oh yes. You forgot to tell Jonathan you were married. That conversation had still yet to be discussed, but your excuse was that you didn’t feel like you owed him anything. You knew the man for months and had been talking to him - hell you now can say that you’ve lived with him, but there was still a part of you that felt you didn’t know him that well enough to tell him everything about yourself. Especially after what happened with James. There was no way you were willing to let your guard down that easily.

“... I mean you think we know each other well but as far as I’m concerned, I’m currently on a train with a stranger, that I happen to live with, who could possibly shoot me.”

“First of all, shoot you? We wouldn’t even make it past the airport if I had possession of a firearm.” Jonathan retorted with his hand on his heart, posing with an offended face. “Secondly, I am offended you think I would do such a thing after spending all this money on the trip and with the money I plan to spend during it to!”

“Aren’t you meant to be going to work on this trip? Surely you’d get all expenses paid, accommodation, transport, everything else you need wherever you go abroad?” You remarked.

“Excuse me, I will have you know that I paid for this accommodation-”

“Did you now?”

“Yes Ma’am, I can confirm I did so you will be left very impressed with what I have to offer!” Jonathan chuckled as he sipped on his cup of earl grey.

“Like with the fact you hid from me that you live in a freaking penthouse that is larger than the house I grew up in?”

“I don’t go around saying that, especially to the women. I’d rather have them believing I’m a man of mystery.” He smirked proudly, causing you to subtly swoon over this man’s confidence. His cockiness was subdued and often made you laugh as he wasn’t the man to often talk that way when it came to women. “Look, in all honesty I just want you to trust me. I want you to know I won’t do anything that could potentially harm you or hurt your feelings. This trip is about having a good time, not for you to trust me less than you already do. Can we try working on that?”

Oh the sincere look got to you. You were both silent for a moment, before his eyebrows arched and his lips grew into a large grin. “Besides, you already have to live with me, it wouldn’t do you any harm to at least get along with your flatmate this time.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes and playfully huffed. “If that’s what it takes, I guess I can make something work.”

The journey had only gotten better after that. You both flew in business class, and had time to read, talk to each other. Eventually, your eyelids grew heavy and you found course slumping your head on his shoulder.

"You alright there?" He chuckled as he turned his attention from his book to you."

"I'm sorry, I'm tired."

"No it's fine, you don't have to move. Keep it like that. I wouldn't want you sleeping uncomfortable."

In all honesty, hadn’t minded, he was comfortable as long as you were beside him.

When you had both arrived to Geneva it was 11.30 pm and you were extremely exhausted after the long day of travelling. All you wanted to do was to get to the hotel and sleep until the next midday. That also reminded you, what did Jonathan have in mind when he said he had dealt with the accommodation? You were not fussy, but you were hoping he would not pull a stunt and try to book one bedroom because that would not end well. Especially considering he was trying to gain your trust and not lose it. This time your guard was staying up. He was not going to knock this down.

You were in complete awe at the beautiful city at night. The thousands of beaming lights from the houses and hotels, you could even see the lake in all its beauty and the faint outlines of the mountains in the midnight blue sky. The new fresh air made you sigh happily as Jonathan helped you with your bags into the taxi. You couldn’t help but smile at him. If this place was a complete magical place at night, imagine how captivating it was during the day. You had always dreamt of going skiing in the Swiss Alps travelling through Lake Geneva. Never had you thought there was a chance this could happen.

Neither were you prepared for the surprise you faced from Jonathan when you arrived at your hotel. It was a large chalet, vibrantly shining before you. Jonathan could see the smile on your face and was in awe by your fascination at that moment. He faced a warm feeling now seeing that you were excited, even though you did a good job of keeping composed.

The night manager stood at the counter smiling upon your arrival. “Good evening, I am the Night Manager, at your service.”

“Hello, I have a reservation under Harrington.” Jonathan stated.

“Harrington. Ah, we have been expecting you Mr. Harrington, you have booked the best room we have to offer. The Lake Geneva suite, five star quality, I’ll just grab the keys and show you to your room.”

The three of you made your way to the room together. Jonathan turned to you, seeing that you had your eyebrow raised and your arms folded. A reminder of the conversation you had on the plane, based on a joke about having a secretly prestigious background. The man turned to you and whispered, “It’s the name I have to use from the company. I know you’re looking at me as if I’m related to royalty, I swear to God I am not. My surname is far from it.”

Even with his breath against your ear, a tingling sensation emerged quickly. You know it was wrong and tried to push it away but this man had been winning and you were stuck under his spell for the time being.

“What is it then?” You boldly asked back.

Jonathan placed his finger on his lips and winked.

“Like that’s supposed to make it any better.” You rolled your eyes. The man had the nerve to keep even the simplest of things from you! That’s when you realised that on this trip, it was going to be your mission to get to know who you were now living with as much as you could.

The suite was incredible, and to your relief it was a two bedroom luxury suite on the top floor. It had a perfect view of the city and the nature behind it. The lake from a distance and its mountainous regions, but it also contrasted with the urban life below. Yet again, this wasn’t what you had expected to come from Jonathan.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take my bag.” You quickly stopped Jonathan and pulled your small suitcase from him.

“There she is again, wanting to be all Miss Independent. Well, there are two rooms, you get to decide which one to have and I’ll take the other.”

“Pine?”

“No.” He called through his room.

“Jonathan Pine - it has a nice ring to it.” You said smirking.

“I’m not named after a bloody tree.”

“I bet it’s something embarrassing like cocks or Dickon.”

“Jesus Christ, you must think my family really hate me. Of course it’s not!”

His comment made you grin. “Is it even English?”

“You’d be able to pronounce it just right. That’s all I’m going to say.”

“I’m starting to think your surname is actually Harrington.” You suddenly started as you sipped on the glass of wine, provided by room service. Your legs were placed to once side as you made yourself comfortable on the couch, already dressed in your long t shirt and shorts for bed soon.

Jonathan entered the living space and raised his head from his phone chuckling, “Believe what you want but I assure you it is not that.”

“Are you sure it’s not an embarrassing one? I will not make fun of you that is the case.”

“What is the deal with the surname talk? You plan on ratting me out to my boss or do you plan on marrying me? I wouldn’t mind being the first man to put a ring on your finger.” His laughter suddenly erupted and filled the room, caused you to nervously laugh with him. The latter at this stage was impossible for millions of reasons that you could not say aloud. You watched the man make his way to the glass coffee table and swipe his bottle of Guinness. You couldn’t let him have the upper hand, so you casually leaned back on the luxurious couch beside you, smirking as you took a sip from your wine.

“Look as much as the latter appeals to me, I want to know at least something about you that is at least as basic as your surname. You are literally a closed book! It is completely unfair that you know so much about me yet I know so little about you!”

Jonathan eventually turned to you and there was something about this man that also wound you up. It’s almost like he knew you inside and out, all the things you loved and hate about anything and everything but he still remained an enigma.

“Who’s fault is that?” He asked, catching your attention.

“Okay - it’s mine but still! Give me something!”

“In due time, good things come to those who wait.”

“Fuck this, I’m going to bed. Good riddance.” You let out a large huff and pulled yourself up. He quickly took your hand before you could leave, as you quickly spun round and almost tumbled into his lap, stopping yourself at an abrupt halt. Your hands were on his lap, intertwined with his. When your eyes moved up, you were caught in his orbs and time stopped for a moment. Your breath hitched and all thoughts in your mind left you blank.

“Ah, I’m sorry, let me just.” You quickly pulled your hand out of his and stood back.

“Oh no you have nothing to apologise for. I didn’t even realise I was doing that. I should be the one saying sorry.” He laughed nervously.

“No - no. It’s fine.” You tried to recollect your thoughts and remembered why you were standing in the first place. “Christ, I need some sleep.” You face palmed, “Don’t look at me, I’m going to walk back and if you try to grab my hand, you will not be using those to touch anything else, mister.” You sassily managed to retort. Your attitude caused him to laugh hysterically on the couch.

Beams of light shone through the closed curtains of your room and forced you to awaken from your slumber. While you remained in a blanket cocoon, head against the large pillow, you realised that sleeping comfortable was something you had gotten used to thanks to Jonathan! Given the fact that you were apprehensive at first when it came to being around him in such a closed space, wondering if you were a burden to him, it was quite the opposite. He had proven to you that he valued your company greatly and this holiday he promised he would show it.

“Yes, I’m aware of that. I’ve been busy with a lot of work. It’s not my fault!” You hear Jonathan’s voice and can’t help but step forward to see him wondering around the living space in a casual white t shirt and jeans. He looks “Look, now is not the good time to talk. I’m out working, it’s unsafe for you to call me. No of course not!” He turned to your room door, where he found you quickly ducking aside. “Look, we’ll talk about this another time. I’m busy.”

A few seconds later you slowly stepped out heard him speak once more, “Ah! Good morning, Y/N! My terrible spy, you need to get dressed. We’re going out.”

You rolled your eyes, how did he know you were spying on him when you were convinced your reflexes were fast?

“I thought you were meant to be working.” You retorted.

His face turned into a large grin. "You’re my guest, I can’t have you not having fun abroad! Come on, there’s something I must show you!” You watched him pick up an apple from the fruit basket provided and take a large bite. You looked from the movement of his muscles around the tightly fit shirt, to his tousled hair.

“Y/N, you’re drooling.”

Your eyes suddenly widen, “If I’m drooling for something it’s that apple. It looks bloody delicious.”

“Sure you’re not talking about anything else?”

“What could be more delicious than that apple you’re holding?” You asked with a blank expression.

“I can name a few things.” He said proudly grinning. What was that supposed to mean?! “Stop getting me distracted!”

“I wasn’t doing anything! You’re the one who’s actually drooling!”

“Don’t try this reverse psychology. It doesn’t work on me. Now go on, get changed, we’re going out for breakfast. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Oh god, yes.” You said as made your way back to your room.

When you stepped out of the shower, your phone buzzed against the desk. It was your beloved husband, you managed to snag a picture of him while he was sipping his tea, you remembered how after that photo was taken he scolded you for doing so. Quickly you answered the phone.

“Y/N! Thank goodness you’re there, I’ve been trying to reach you for ages!”

“How long has ages been?” You asked calmly, even though you could sense a panic in his voice.

“All yesterday! You wouldn’t pick up your phone! Are you alright? What’s been happening?”

“I’m fine, nothing’s happened to me." You answered, confused.

“I tried asking Bond where you were, says you haven’t spoken to him in a long while, so I tried the hotel you told me you were staying in and they said you checked out a couple of weeks ago. Is everything alright? Are you sure you’re not in any difficult situations because I’m home now, if you’d like to stay with me.”

“No I’m fine, honestly. I’ve just been keeping myself busy and I’ve got somewhere else I’m staying for the time being.”

“You know James is not as worried as I am. Forget him, but I feel obliged to watch and protect you.”

“Listen, I'm perfectly fine, you don't need to watch over me. I’m kind of just taking a break out of London. This whole situation has taken its toll on me, I haven’t been feeling to great and-” Before you continued you stopped and turned around, “I swear to god if you’re lurking behind that door I will pick up my hair brush and throw it at you.” You heard Jonathan quickly shuffle away and mumble an apology, causing you to smile helplessly.

“Who?” Q asked.

“Not you. Someone else.”

“You’re staying with someone else?”

“Yeah, it’s just a friend who apparently likes to eavesdrop as much as I do in conversations. It’ll pass.”

“By any chance is this who you’re living with?”

“What’s with all the questions? You know - we’re not-” You stopped yourself quickly.

“I know. I just - want to make sure you’re safe. That’s all. I still can care about you, you know.”

You didn't know how to respond to that, considering you hadn't realised that Q still cared after all this time. The way you two had ended was more down to his part of not being able to contact you after being hired by the MI6. He distanced himself from you and with that, you grew accustomed to the situation.

“That’s nice to know, Q. I just need time to get out and think that’s all. Look, I’ve got to go, I’m supposed to be heading out any time soon and my friend is waiting for me, I’d rather not keep them waiting.”

“Oh - right that’s fine. Just make sure you drop me a message to let me know that you’re still there, alright? I do worry for you and I fear that we may not have been able to talk things through with the little time we’ve shared together. I’d like to know how you’re doing if James isn’t going to be the one to tell me himself.”

“Alright.”

“Have a good day, Y/N.”

You could tell the tone in his voice on the other end of the line showed great concern. He was truly worried and you could tell. However, this was Q. You knew him to be vulnerable when you first married him, although ever since you had reunited with him, he seemed more cold, sarcastic, immune to emotion, after all maybe that’s what his time in London could have done to him and somehow, that’s what caught you by surprise. But then there was another thing too, why had he been calling you the moment James was gone? What triggered this sudden feeling of needing to know how you were and where you were that only a significant other would feel. You managed to brush it from your mind and opt for a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain white shirt with trainers. Something casual, nothing that Jonathan hasn’t seen you in before.

As you stepped out, you found him opening the door for room service and smiling at you once the tea had arrived. God that smile. If only you could see him in only just an innocent light. Although you couldn’t. This man, there was something about him that kept your heart racing, sometimes left your mind blank and most of all intrigued, wanting more from him. Something that you admittedly once felt for James but that quickly vanished when you had second thoughts. But with Jonathan, there were no second thoughts. It was just him that constantly gave you that feeling, even from a simple smile. He looked at you as if you were the only woman in the world that mattered, which left you also feeling vulnerable, as though he was silently pulling down your guard.

The two of you headed to to a nearby café on foot and eventually Jonathan opened up about himself a little more. He spoke about his hobbies and interests. You learned about how he hadn’t always wanted to work in the murky world of espionage and actually aspired to work in a completely different career.

“You surely have the talent with how dramatic you are. I’m sure I told you a couple of weeks ago that this was your destined career.”

“I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.” He laughed, “You get very smug when you’re right about something. It’s one of the little things about you that really sticks with me. You give a smirk like that! What you’re doing right now!”

“I’m not doing anything!” Your gasp turned into a laugh.

The two of you spent the rest of the day sightseeing. Jonathan took you to the nearest bike rental store and the two of you spent time cycling and getting to know the city you were staying in, while Jonathan was courteous enough to explain everything as he had been here before, once. You rode past the Palais des Nations building in complete awe with what remained before you and Jonathan could see it when you had stopped, causing him to quickly break and move back to you.

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

“It’s amazing. Never thought I’d see it in person. The architecture is something that had always appealed to me with buildings like this.”

“You like a little architecture? Then follow me my lady, I will show you the right place to go.” He said with a smirk, beckoning you to follow him.

It had been almost twenty minutes of cycling until Jonathan stopped in front of St. Pierre Cathedral and you had to say, you were gobsmacked. The architecture was a thing of beauty, again something you hadn’t expected to see in such a short space of time but Jonathan took pride in showing you around a place he knew. He stepped off his bicycle and helped you lock both of them as you made your way into the cathedral, theatrically leaving his arm out for you to hold onto. You took it with a smile as he spoke to you about the history of the building and how he learned from it on a drunken night out, stumbling on this place and meeting someone who was knowledgeable enough to speak about the place. Then before you knew it, you were exhausted, making your way back to the hotel by the time it reached 5.00 pm.

While inside the taxi, Jonathan spoke to you further about places you wanted to see, and if there was anything particularly you wanted to do, which you suggested skiing straight away. The quick suggestion made him laugh and he had promised you that it was going to happen.

There was a look of sincerity in his eyes when he turned to you, which caught you off guard. “Look, I know it is late and you probably want to get some rest but I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to this restaurant I’ve been meaning to try out tonight.”

You raised your eyebrow, “I imagine I have no choice because you already booked a reservation?”

“Most definitely but again, I’m only trying to do the gentlemanly thing by asking you.”

“If this is some fancy place, you know I don’t have anything to wear - right?”

“It’s fine. We can sort something out.”

“This is not a date.” You quickly stated, pointing your finger in the air quickly.

“Well, what happens in Geneva stays in Geneva.” He stated, “But it’s two friends just having a drink, so be it.” He winked, causing your stomach to stir with butterflies.

[king893]

Things are getting tougher

Ok so I know I don't tend to post very often on here and I don't interact with anyone on here so in all likelihood this won't really reach anyone but honestly I just feel the need to vent.

So I've been unemployed ever since my last work was bought over and the new business already had their own staff, can't really be angry that that happened, it was just a business deal, no one was looking to do any harm but still it left me without a way to support myself even though it was only part time and I was still needing to use the dole as a crutch. 3 and a half months later I'm still no further forward besides those 2 shifts I got to do at a seriously shitty bar who did everything illegally and was far too rough, scummy and made me feel so inadequate to be worth being paid less than minimum wage like they were offering. Since then I've had a few interviews, a couple for places I really liked the idea of working in, where I really felt like I would fit in and felt like I really clicked with the people interviewing me and haven't gotten any more than a copy/paste message saying "Unfortunately you have been unsuccessful on this occasion, we wish you all the best for the future."

This is starting to feel about as hopeless as when I was made unemployed a year ago and had nothing for about 5 months before a bartending course which gave me a whole new positive light to see myself in. I finally had an idea of what I want to do with my life, a career plan, something I could really enjoy and, I thought, prosper in. I was the only person on that course to not end up in a job within a couple of weeks which was already starting to undo my confidence. I finally get a bar job close to home, in a venue I liked with some really cool staff and decent customers, granted it was only part time but it was a huge step forward in what felt like a lifetime. On top of that it was a few weeks into a new me and T's relationship which is a first for me in years so everything just really started to be looking up.

So, losing that job wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to me because I have experience now, there are a ton of bars in Dundee, I'll get something again in no time. T has been telling me ever since it happened that something will come up soon, I've just been a bit unlucky but a quarter of a year later and a load of interviews which led to nothing later, it's just starting to feel more and more hopeless.

I'm just felling far more like I'm only ok, in everyone's eyes, some people might think I seem nice or whatever but nothing much more to me and I really don't see how I can convince people otherwise, which isn't helped by the fact I'm never being told what I'm doing wrong.

Because of all of this shit my parents seem to be convinced that I would be better moving back in with them, especially since T moved back to her mum's so I have one major thing less to hold onto in Dundee. what they don't seem to grasp is how little there is in terms of opportunity or hope of a future in that part of Fife, it's just a place that time forgot where nothing new happens and old people just want things to still be the 60's. That and of course, in case I was being a bit too subtle, I hate the place. I love the family and friends I left behind there but were it not for them I would never set foot there again, and I'd be thrilled to see it taken completely off the map and I just can't face the thought of putting myself back there with no financial safety net to help pull me back out quickly and I've sworn to myself I will not be one of the people who gets old and dies in that shit hole. And yet I'm running out of any ideas at all to keep that from happening. My savings are gone, I'm running out of places to apply to, I need money to get my hair dyed again because it's getting to the point where I can't make myself presentable anymore, I owe T, my dad and my flatmate money, I'm getting more and more out of shape, I have things I need to save for, I need to find someone to move in when my current flatmate moves out in a few months, I need some way to get my life together. And I don't have the money to make it happen, I don't have any prospect for a job to move things forward, I don't have the confidence in myself to make any of it happen, I don't have any motivation left and I just can't see any way at all to move forward.