#I've never even had a proper conversation with this coworker

[tarjapearce]

Papa, You're Getting Old

Soccer Family! Miguel x Reader

Warning: Fluff, slight smut, suggestive towards the end, introspection, body perception and insecurities. Married couple rants and moments, no proofread.

Summary: Miguel finally notices his white hairs, comfort ensues.

A/N: Like Miguel, got a mini crisis when I spotted my first white hairs today 🫠. Then remembered mom had them around my age too so jsksk. Then remembered (x2) I had this one sitting forgotten in my files jsksk, been forgetting this AU lately :'). Help.

A/N 2: Nearly done with the moving. So we're back, I guess? jsksj.

Soccer Family Masterlist

Papa, you're getting old.

Gabi's words had unintentionally pierced through his skull, engraving with emphasis the old part in his brain after his girl found out the couple of white hairs peppering his wavy locks. He was getting older.

Fourty years of his life had gone by within the blink of an eye. When did time got itself some wheels to roll faster? Who gave it permission to do that? Yet Gabi's words lingered in his thoughts longer than they should.

He was getting old. And the silver strands popping here and there, discreetly in his gorgeous hair you loved sinking your hands into, were the irrefutable proof to understand time never stopped, not even a single second.

For the umpteenth time, he brushed his damp hair away to see if he discovered more of them, and to his bad luck, he did. Specially on the front and side bangs.

He scowled at his reflection and pursed his lips. His body still kept the musculature his younger self nurtured. He truly never believed people whenever they said that exercise kept you active and young looking.

And besides the greying hairs on his head and some on his chest, the fine lines turning a bit more prominent on his features, he looked almost the same.

The same man you had been sharing a good chunk of your life with. Almost sixteen years to be more exact if you counted those two dating years. And now he was growing old.

Miguel didn't want to admit it, but sometimes his age reminded him that his body wasn't the same anymore.

You'd often find him sleeping midway in the couch during movie nights, or his office, whenever work from home was done. Sometimes, his body would ache out of nowhere, but in truth it was mostly his bad posture due his size.

Other times, his grumpiness ran rampant through the day, leaving his coworkers to deal with it, cause he didn't have the heart to pollute his home with his bad vibes. A term  Gabriella kept including during the conversations at night to talk about her unlikeable classmates.

And now, he was glaring at his reflection for daring to do such thing as graying. Even the happy trail you loved to nuzzle had a couple of white hairs.

"You're winning that staring contest, mi amor."

Your little laugh, earned a brief chuckle from him as his shoulders slumped, and if almost sixteen years of knowing eachother had taught you something, was to perfect to a T the understanding of his body language.

You came closer and hugged him from behind, keeping his towel around his hips in place while spanking his plump ass in the process, earning another airy chuckle from him.

"Wanna tell me why, you're glaring harder at yourself this time?"

His arm wrapped gently around you and caressed your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. Yours and his reflection in the bathroom mirror staring right back.

"I'm... getting old, mi reina."

You blinked before looking up at him to have a proper view of what he meant.

"More like aging like a fine wine, Miguel."

"No. You don't understand. Look at this," he pointed at the pluck of white hairs peeking out from his roots, "I didn't have them a few months ago and now I've got a bunch of them. Everywhere!."

You smirked, "Everywhere?"

"Mi amor." He warned and you giggled, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Relax, they look gorgeous on you."

"Oh, do they now?"

With a sigh, you took his hands and gave him that look, he knew by heart as a 'really?'

"I've known you for... How long?" It was your turn to hold onto his narrow waist, holding him exactly the way his hands held yours at the beginning.

"Almost sixteen years." He mumbled, still glueing his eyes on the decaying version of himself.

You nodded and looked at the mirror. Together and close, like most of your pictures together. As always.

"Basically almost half of your life. I met you when I was twenty one, gave birth to our Gabibi by twenty three, enjoyed her for ten years, then we almost made Benjamin in the car."

He snorted and nodded, tittering silently at the sudden memory of the cops calling you out in the lookout spot.

"Almost." He mumbled and you nodded.

"Almost, yeah. But we made him! And look at him, being the smartest boy in his class."

Miguel nodded, fond of his boy's achievements.

"And now we have Rosie. Crawling and trying to walk up in every room we put her in."

"Remind me to baby proof the stairs."

You smiled and smacked his ass, "What I'm trying to get at, Papa. Is that, those white hairs in your head and body are only a beautiful proof that you've lived and loved the right way. Look at us."

You pulled him down for a peck, and cupped his cheeks, making him to look your way.

"You, Papa, mi amor, mi niño hermoso, are the best everything I've ever get to experience. And I'm honored to be the one that you're growing old with."

His eyes softened and his hands trapped yours to then kiss them.

"I'm having white hairs too! Like, the other day a kid called me señora to get me pass his ball. SEÑORA!"

His chuckle turned into a soft and genuine laugh.

"Like, the audacity!"

"You're my señora." He murmured in the side of your head, kissing it afterwards.

"Damn right I am." You nodded proudly," Like we're Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara for a reason."

His smile turned sweeter as he placed your hands around his neck and sat you before him in the sink, looking down on your eyes.

"Would you love me-"

"If you were a worm, yes. I would."

"Cállate" he laughed and cleared his throat, "I mean, you... You still want this?" He pointed at his graying hair and chest.

"That question is offensive in itself."

His eyes darted away, but your soft and gentle hands made his gaze to hold against yours again.

"I'd love you if you were bald, had extra pounds, all tattooed, piercings and stuff, a worm, hell, I'd love you the same if you were an alien."

His brow quirked, but snorted, genuinely amused at your rambling.

"I'd love you the same even if we're going through natural changes as growing old. And yes, I'd still fuck and make love to you all the same." Your hands rested on his hips.

"Oh really?"

"Obviously. That makes me worried though. You're entering a dangerous zone where women see you even more handsome. And I'm not one to be jealous, but all of this," You tapped his butt gently, "is mine."

He pecked your lips with a loving laugh. "I'm all yours. And you're pretty jealous."

"Well, yeah, I'm not sharing your dilfness with anyone. Not when I have these for myself." Your hands squeezed his firm butt and spanked it, he pursed his lips, trying his best to suppress a bashful smile.

"And I'm pretty sure in a future our caretakers would find us having sex in the most random of places in the hospice."

That pulled a merry laugh out of him to then kiss your lips.

"You're crazy."

"For you, always. But in all truth, they'll have to put me in quarantine, because I'm still jumping your bones. Even if I have to use a cane, or ask for assistance to the nurses."

"You'd be lucky if still works."

Your eyes rolled and your thighs pulled him closer to you, between your legs. His teeth bit softly his bottom lip as your hands roamed up his chest, eyes widening partially at the sudden bold move.

His soapy clean smell tickled your senses, after all, you had caught him post shower.

"Trust me, it works wonders."

He groaned when your hand slid between the folds of his towel, cupping him with a light squeeze.

"Yeah?" He half mumbled, half moaned into your lips with darkening eyes. Your touch ever delicious, and sparking the arousal only you managed to ignite in his body. Your scent remained forever etched into his brain, almost conditioning him into enter a needy mode whenever desire oozed from your pores.

You nodded with a needy 'hmm' while your hand stroked him, as if with every movement you'd jerk and caress away all those insecurities out of his mind and body.

"Definitely, mi amor."

His hips stuttered into your gentle grip, heaving a deep and shuddering breath hovering over your inviting lips, relieved and proud to see your eagerness to have him. Gray hairs and all.

The silver strands mattered little, specially when you were set into worshipping and honoring your vows.

"I think I'd love to test it's performance, just to make sure."

A crawl rolled down his spine upon your words. He loved when you talked in his language, it turned him on im such a way he didn't know it could make that part of his cortex tingle. But this moment, had him delivering sweet pecks and kisses down your neck, drunk in your softness and want for none else but him.

You still wanted him, flaws and all. He still made you a mess. And that made his cock to twitch.

"Shall we go to the testing area then, mi reina?"

His flushed and broad tip poked urgently between your clothed folds and inner thighs, hoping to slip in your scorching tightness and wreck you completely, like in his younger years.

However, as much as he wanted to take you right there, the privacy of your room offered him more space to bend and meld you at his whims. Without saying much, he threw you over his shoulder and rushed to your bedroom, thrilled for the upcoming long hours of exhaustive, mind splitting testing.

[heartfullofleeches]

Yandere Streamer + Delivery Driver Reader Blurb

"Package!"

You bang your fist against the apartment door, lock popping open after the second beat. Music floods from its cracks, leaving you curious as to how anyone heard you when another resident on this very floor couldn't hear you from their own living room. The query fades into irrelevancy as you wheel your cart closer to the opening door. The only thing that mattered was getting the job done so you could finally head home.

"Yeah?"

"Package for a uh...." You flip through your notes. "Miller?" That was definitely a new one. You've been delivering packages to this apartment complex from a local warehouse store for a few months by now to the point you almost knew everyone's name. The home owner's tired face gains an enormous grin, but not at the mention of the name. Rather, the voice behind it.

"Yeah, that's me. Sorry, thought you might've been someone else."

"I understand. From what I have here, you ordered a new surveillance camera, a gaming chair, and a set of deadbolt locks. You also requested set up for the chair. Is that correct?"

"Sounds about right. Come on in. Bedroom's to your right. Try not to take too long, I'm going live soon." You drag the cart in as Miller shuts and secures the door; chain lock clicking into place.

You park outside of the bedroom door, carrying the needed supplies inside and adding them to a plethora of boxes already situated inside. Must've just moved in, you conclude; despite all the worn posters and furniture placed around the room. The boxes were stacked in a way that they were out of general sight of a computer set up near a bolted window. Oddly enough, there was already a chair in front of it.

"New one's for my partner." Miller answers to the question you hadn't even asked, pointing at the chair. "Couples streaming seemed like a good way to welcome them home. All this other stuff is theirs too. Don't have much from their old home and I wanted to spoil them."

"When do they move in?"

"Today."

"I see.." You trail away from the conversation as you focus all your mental energy towards assembling their chair. You never got the proper training for this part of the job, but it wasn't rock science. Miller even helped you get started before they left the room, music blaring through the other corners of the house as they work on their own tasks. Three quarters of an hour down, and you've got it done. Miller had reentered the room around the time and had been working on their computer. They usher you over to bring the chair, offering you a seat for all your hard work.

"Y'know, I should be thanking you for all your hard work. You don't know how many times I've had to reschedule my order because they kept sending your coworker instead. Made no sense, but I guess you had other deliveries. It's whatever. All that's in the past now, baby."

Before you can ask what they mean, Miller puts on their headphones and presses a button on the keyboard. Your puzzled face appears on screen, blocked partially by the bill of your hat.

"Hey, guys! I'm here with my first stream with my spouse. Told you I was taken. I know I've hyped up their arrival, it just took a while to get things settled, but now they're finally home and here to stay."

[bellaleighwrites]

Writeblr Intro

General Info

Hello! My name is Isabella. I'm in my 40s (a sentence that I'm going to have to change in 13.5 months, but leaving it for now). I've been writing for as long as I can remember. We won't talk about most of my early attempts. I could probably recreate the story I wrote in 7th grade word for word if I wanted to. But, the only reason to do that would be to torture somebody with it. And I don't have anybody I dislike enough to make them read that thing. Same as any of the poetry I wrote during my poetry phase in junior high and high school.

Currently, I work at the service desk in a grocery store. It's great for people watching. Of course, it's also good for making me want to never leave my house and not have to deal with people ever again. If I could get my ADHD brain to work long enough to look into classes, I really want to go into accounting or bookkeeping. The morning bookwork is my favorite part of my job honestly (other than most of my coworkers. I DO like them). I'm the oldest of 4 girls (though, technically one of them is actually a sister from another mister. But, her kids call me and my other sisters "aunt" and my parents "grandma and grandpa" so she still counts.) and have TEN niblings ranging in age from 19 down to almost 8. I think. I tend to lose track of the younger ones.

Anyway! On to my writing! Which is honestly the most interesting thing about me, anyway.

I am in the process of revising my first novel. It's an Urban Fantasy about a vampire who is trying to protect his girlfriend in a world going increasingly mad. He has reason to believe that his Sire is in town and gunning for his friends. He's been informed by the local seer that he will somehow be instrumental in preventing the end of the world. There is apparently a Necromancer loose in the city - and when you and most of your friends are dead, that is a bit concerning. And the firestarting abilities he thought he lost when he was turned have returned, and after 275 years of being dormant they're out of control. This is the first in a series. The book doesn't have a title yet, but the series is called The Vampires of Sangue Collina. Any posts about it will be tagged with #Sangue Collina.

I am also writing the first draft of a Historical Romance. a Regency-era second chance romance. Four years ago, Evelyn and Lucas fell in love. But, her stepfather intended to marry her to the son of an associate of his, using her dowry to pay off a gambling debt. Evelyn takes one night for herself and sleeps with Lucas before running away. Four years later, Lucas has a bad riding accident and in his moments of semi-lucidity the only coherent thing he can say is Evelyn’s name. So, his older brother tracks her down. When he finds her, he also discovers that she has had Lucas’s baby. He drags them both back to London. When Lucas finally actually wakes up and finds out about their child - and about the fact that her stepfather is still looking for her - he realizes the only way to protect them is to marry her. Of course he kind of hates her for what she did, and never mind her reasons. I'm 12 scenes in and really like most of what I have, even though I know that it DOES need a lot of work. I'm probably going to have to add in some flashbacks or something. Because the 12th scene is literally the first time Evelyn and Lucas see each other, and they don't have a proper conversation until the next scene. I need to do something about that. But, that is future me's problem. The tags for that are #You're still the one and #ysto.

And then there's my fanfiction. I write Bridgerton. Mostly Kate and Anthony. And it would take way too long to talk about all of my fics on here. I'll be posting later to talk about all of them. And with links to everything.

Anyway! I intend to post writing updates and snippets on here. I'll also be reblogging writing advice and I want to get better about reblogging other people's writing.

I am especially looking for fellow romance writers. Bonus if you also write historical romance. Much as I love my mutuals, it would be great to find people I can talk to about the specifics of my genre.

[blueamphibians]

My moms brand of homophobia is the only kind i will ever accept. Its so weirdly wholesome.

Despite her being hardcore christian, she actually never bought up LGBTQ stuff to me and my sister--not in the "its taboo" way, but in the "i am more focused on instilling proper morals in my children and LGBTQ stuff isn't even on my radar."

So obv that meant i had a super positive exposure to it when i found out, because no-one had ever told me it was bad. I found out gay people existed and went "makes sense" and moved on yk?

But back to her homophobia: She lives by a very strong rule of "its not my place to judge them, it's gods," so while she does think being LGBTQ is against the bible, she also doesn't think its her place to comment.

She DOES however think that its her place to be gracious to everybody because God is going to judge HER too, at the end. So this brings me to my favorite story ab her, right.

So our country is VERY conservative to the point where being LGBTQ can get you quietly fired or in extreme cases deported. The place she works regularly flies in staff from abroad though, and they're usually highly LGBTQ-friendly.

So my mom comes home one day, more stressed than usual, and i ask her whats up. And she goes "I had to warn one of the abroad staff not to talk about gender studies with the locals here", and i got prissy and went "why? because its wrong?" and she looked at me and went "No, because they're being nice to his face but what if they go and say something behind his back?"

Like her first instinct was to protect this man who didn't realize just what the environment here was like. And then she drove him around the city trying to help him find a touristy gift for his husband and even suggested different places to try even though she didn't have too.

Like sure my mom is homophobic but her morals clash so STRONGLY with the ideas of hate that she ends up being an ally. I lowkey came out to her one day by going "what would you do if i liked girls"

and she said "well. Id be sad because its wrong and I want you to go to heaven."

and i said "but how would you treat my wife? would you be nice to her?"

and she went "well, yes, of course--" and i went "what if i don't think its wrong?" and she went "well i cant force you but id like if you read the bible more :("

its worth noting that she was so uncomfortable during this conversation, which was so surreal for her, that she started cry laughing in the coffee shop because i was being really intense.

My mother is homophobic but shes also tolerant and so fucking kind and yk those are the kinds of people i can coexist with. She's the kind of person to see a gay coworker get fired and get upset, not because he's gay, but because her workplace had the audacity to fire somebody so experienced.

All this to say: I love my mom.

Side note, my roommate is homophobic (i don't blame her, and its not like shes doing harm) and I'm actually really open to being friends with her because shes kind as fuck and tactful. So yeah, its nice to coexist i guess

EDIT: also. My mom is like, really bad at being homophobic. Like she "knows" its wrong, but she gets really confused when she tries to explain why. And she doesn't actually...do anything homophobic. She sees men in heavy makeup and goes "wow....his eyeshadow is so good..." and then Side Eyes Me

idk. Shes a really good person. The only people I've seen her go "they should be harmed" about is like, r*pists and shit. Doubling down: I love my mom.

[stilettomafiosas]

while it's on my mind, I think I'm gonna be a little vulnerable (I typically don't post much personal stuff HAHA) and just talk a little bit about my personal relationship with making and sharing art as an autistic/schizophrenic person—

using the common metaphor, I DO very much feel like an alien or like I'm wearing masks and playing different roles—none of which are comfortable or actually me—every day. I have an extreme difficulty in connecting to people directly, regardless of how much I like the person or how much I wish to overcome that barrier. I don't connect to people or understand a lot of the typical tones, cues, suggestions, etc.

face-to-face? I don't even know when a conversation is over. people have to outright tell me to leave because I don't know when to go or when it's appropriate to say goodbye. I have no idea what the proper response to most things is. throughout my whole life, I've experienced the constant confusion of wondering why people question everything I do, or why people laugh every time I say something, no matter how serious I am. my family too! I can be on the verge of tears trying to confide something and they laugh, and upon being asked why, they cheerfully say they thought I was joking or that I'm very funny. I don't try to be funny! and I rarely crack jokes so it's odd that I've gotten that reputation.

if I'm not being laughed at, I'm being snubbed or insulted or written off as a jerk and I again have NO idea until someone finally explains that one of my reactions or expressions upset them and I never had a clue. one of my old coworkers wouldn't speak to me for days, and went around behind my back telling everyone else that I'm rude and hateful because—? I didn't speak to her every time she brushed by. context: I still greeted everyone in the morning because I know that's polite, but to me, it made sense to not address someone each time they dart by because it's distracting us both from the sensitive, calculation-heavy labwork we were doing. apparently that's not what everyone else thought LMAO. I was the odd one out.

people have gotten angry with me for not looking happy about a gift or excited about something and accused me of ruining their day, or that I didn't deserve the kindness because I wasn't grateful for it. I unfortunately DO have a flat affect irl and my expressions and tone never match what I feel or how intensely I feel it, so I can't fault them for being offended there, but it's another constant reminder that I don't entirely fit in and have to micromanage aspects of myself that a lot of people don't even have to think about. that's part of why I may seem a little too eager or enthusiastic in text sometimes LOL, I try to put extra effort into making SURE that my tone is as clear as possible!! removing body language and expressions from communication is difficult for a lot of people to begin with, and I don't want to add unnecessary doubt about what I mean when it's something I DO have full control over!

that to say this: I just do not feel like I belong ANYWHERE. are there people who feel the same way as i do? absolutely!! am I a unique experience? definitely not!! but in my personal life, I AM very much isolated and disconnected. I feel like there's no easy, comfortable, or safe way for me to reach out to others and just share little things that make us people. I can't chat about my day or hit people up or go hang out, and not for lack of wanting to—or trying. I love the people in my life and I'd gladly do anything I can to help them or be a listener, but that's as far as I've really been able to go.

so how do I connect and confide? ART. everyone shares art in an attempt to connect in some way or another, but to a drastically heightened degree for me. sharing art, particularly personal projects and extra-especially writing, is how I quietly try to talk to others. everyone starts a conversation with their art but that's generally the only conversation I have at all so it's SO SO so important to me

I could never just confide in someone or disclose personal things one-on-one, so I do that with my art and stories. it's literally the only way I get that stuff out in the open LOL. the stuff that's meaningful to me, stuff I think about a lot, things I'm afraid of, all of that is wrapped up in the characters I create and the stories I tell with them and any time I share some details I'm just like "hey!! does anyone understand!! can anyone hear me!!" I don't seek validation or praise for the mechanics of my art (though it's definitely valued and great encouraging and appreciated!!) I'm mostly desperate for an unspoken conversation or connection. that someone DOES understand and they DO hear me regardless of how quiet I am or how much I fumble with opening up. (even writing this is embarrassing HAHA. I don't even list my age or gender or the most basic/typical information, how am I supposed to talk about any of my THOUGHTS directly??)

but then again I also don't promote or advertise my stuff very much. I've got years worth of stories and mountains of writing that never see the light of day. a lot of people don't even know that I write at all lmao and that's totally on me: because it IS so deeply personal that it's sometimes scary to share it. I'm fortunate enough to have a career outside of my art so I don't rely on it to make a living and find it necessary to promote to an audience so I can pay bills. and I don't have any attachments to the fanart I make—I DO enjoy the stuff I make fanart for, but to me, it's only a vehicle of enthusiasm for me to make more art as practice to brush up on skills, and it isn't personal or something I deeply project on.

this is so disorganized, and I'll delete it later because I've never really talked about this, especially here, but yeah...!! in summary, I make art and write stories as a language, in a way to communicate with people and share thoughts that I normally can never ever do via a regular conversation, post, or rare stream-of-consciousness thing like this. LMAO. I want to connect to people, and be remembered, and understood, and being vulnerable in sharing stories is how I do that. I don't make things (outside of fanart at least) to be consumed, I make them to start a conversation—even if its entirely an internal one and I never know you even thought of it, I just want to inspire some manner of "hey, I get you! i understand what you're saying!! you're real and you aren't incapable of being a person because I see what you're trying to convey and I know exactly what you mean!! it's okay if you're distant and communicate in your own way because you still made me feel something!!"

it's a lonely experience. I'm happy to have finally gotten the diagnoses and explanations for why I feel some of these things, and while it's comforting to know why, living with it is no easier... but art is so special to me moreso now than ever :,)

[noyoucannotpushthevoid]

So, observation based on, admittedly, not the best experimental group: far too many variables, heightened emotions cause we're all stuck together in the middle of nowhere for 2 months, and lack of a proper control group; I am also not a scientist, I enjoy the subject only in very very specific circumstances

That being said, for a little more context I've worked at the same summer camp for a couple years now, though the 2 in person years are the only ones that are actually relevant. Due to the way the camp was originally set up, most of the campers are boys and most of my coworkers are men in their 20s (mostly white, but due to lack of information to compare to I don't know how much this actually impacts my observations. I just figured I'd note it because when I say mostly, I mean about 90% of the staff).

I was talking to one of my coworkers the other day. She's someone I consider one of my best camp friends. She is very adamant that she's never going to work there again. We were just kind of shooting the breeze and talking a bit about the summer, which was objectively incredibly traumatizing for many staff and campers. This led to me expressing frustration about when I would talk to some of my other coworkers I would be talked over and essentially kicked out of conversations about the event that I ended up being at the center of and still pisses me off and worries me to this day ('cause there are out of camp parts too. Unfortunately, it didn't stop when camp did). I'll be overshadowed because 'oh poor so-and-so had this comparatively minor but related thing happen to him'. I will not begrudge him that it was a horrible infringement on his privacy. That being said a conversation goes both ways and I'd also like to vent about that night. Especially considering that person and the group we're both in are some of the only people who will actually be able to understand what happened, why I acted the way I did, and not just stare at me in object horror.

Then thinking of "poor so-and-so" leads me to the point of this rant.

There is still one more bit of context though: I hung out with almost exclusively girls in high school. Therefore, I have had firsthand experience with the whole stereotypical "teenage girls are petty and catty and two-faced". And they did act like that occasionally, but did I also act that way in high school sometimes? Yea.

So, with all this context my ultimate question is, why have I seen that behavior a lot more in men in there 20s, rather than teenage girls?

"Poor so-and-so" and all of his friends spent the entire summer talking about people behind their backs, even when it made them hypocrites. Because of the fact that it's a limited staff most of his friends are the remainder of the men in their 20s. Given this though, let's compare since there were literal teenage girls on staff, most of whom didn't act that way at all. Everyone at that camp gossips, there's really nothing else to talk about in the end, but at least if one of the girls had a problem with me or with someone else, they'd either say it to the person's face or have someone else talk to the person...They'd rant and rave about it sure, but none of them would spread rumors or keep petty grudges.

Specific Comparison Examples: I shared a living space with "poor so-and-so" and a couple other men for part of the summer. And for the rest of the summer I lived with the women (none of this is related to why my living quarters were shifted, that's more due to space and new staff being brought on board who couldn't live with the women), whose living quarters were right next to the girls and had a shared bathroom with them.

Was I a dick that one time I stayed up til one in the morning playing a really loud game of dnd? Yes, unquestionably.

Was I also very obnoxious those couple of times I forgot to clear my hair out of the shower drain? You can guess the answer, it's just like all the others...yes.

But the difference is the girls, women, and I all had a sit down conversation where we went over things that the others did that pissed us off and set new ground rules. Versus the men telling me offhandedly to not be so loud again and me apologizing. Yet like 6 fucking months later every single fucking time my relationship with those men are mentioned it gets brought up as the reason why they still dislike me (there are plenty of other, more justified reasons for them to dislike me, I'm not an easy person to actually get along with. I definitely said and did worse things). I also never fucking did it again. I postponed the final session of that campaign for three months just so I would be respectful and not continue to be a dick.

It makes me want to scream.

TL;DR Why men in 20s act more like stereotypical teenage girls than teenage girls? And can the grow up and stop hating me for one minor thing I did 6 months ago? Like they're the adults, why are 7 14-17 year old girls far far more mature than them (I have my guesses for sure, but like it's not a good look especially considering the teenage boys, some of them, were also far more mature than these men. I was just comparing my experience with these men to that with the teenage girls whose stereotype the men embody)?

Thank you for your time. I hope you enjoyed your glimpse into the pit of bottomless rage that I am

[bearpillowmonster]

I made a post a a few months ago about a coworker and the position, well I calmed down and now there's a new problem...

So, they're hiring his replacement and finally found someone and he's starting soon but the District Manager is already swooping him up by wanting him to work at the branch the last one was transferred to...so wait a moment. He applied for a branch that has its own application and you want him to go to a branch that also has its own application that he didn't apply for, both needing people but one is apparently more important?

Well, it's not full time, it's just part time here and part time there. That's hard on a new hire especially, but he said "We'd just tell him it's mandatory." which very well could drive him away and also sets a bad precedent. But then my manager brought up "Hey, woah, that wouldn't be fair to offer him that opportunity over someone who's been here a year already." meaning me.

So that's all fine and good, I thought about it and I was about to say no but I figured I'd explore it thoroughly and my manager said that it'd be like once a month on Saturdays. Which really isn't bad which changed my mind a little but then he said this- That the district manager is thinking about making this mandatory for all employees to chip in for the employee shortage and that it might make my own branch open on Saturdays as well as it doesn't currently.

This is sending me into a spiral because first off, if I accept, they're going to make this new guy do it and not give him a choice, I can't be the one that makes the decision for both of us especially when he's not even here yet. Nextly, I'm not going to be the one to bring Saturdays to my branch. Thirdly Turdly, there's barely anyone on Saturdays, they wait until the final half hour and then that's the day so I'd just be bored out of my mind.

I've thought about giving them ultimatums. "I'll do it but you have to pay me X amount" "I'll do it but once it becomes mandatory then I'm not doing it anymore." "I'll do it but if Saturdays become a thing then you're going to have a higher shortage problem because I'm outie." but the probability is low on me actually pulling those off, and I can't even say that the District manager has ever even had a proper conversation with me in a whole year, let alone this new guy, he just doesn't pay attention to anything (which I've explained before) so I can't be as open to him or even direct to him as I am my own manager.

The biggest factors tell me no, I mean, after I get home and take a shower and eat, I have about 3 and a half hours before I go to bed, that's not a lot of time and I spend a lot of it playing catch up so weekends are really the only time I have to get things done and also rest and to take away one of those means everything, it would have to be a choice, not a demand, I work my 40, I play my piece and I play it well but you asking me to do more is all that's ever going to be. Asking. To make such a thing mandatory, to steal a weekend away will be the death of this whole operation, I will make sure of it.

But on the other hand, then I start thinking that this is the exact sort of thing that I was complaining about a few months ago and now they're giving me the opportunity and I don't want to be shut out of future opps. But then there's the fact that this DM considered this new guy that we've never even met yet over me in the first place making it disingenuous and really irks me the wrong way....

[ladydevinejournal]

Introspection and Big Changes! 05/04/2023

Today was my last day on night shift. I've been on FHD for 18 months, and I was very fond of the majority of my coworkers. However, the disturbances in my sleep routine have been causing my entire body and brain to fall apart. I am both sad to miss my friends and move on, and incredibly excited to try this new schedule as a step to getting my life back on track.

I have officially been accepted as a college student! I am going for psychology with a specialty in mental health. As of now, when I graduate in a few years, my plan is to then join a graduate program. I am going to keep going until I get a doctorate, and specialize in marriage and family therapy. I think this is a lucrative career that also makes me feel brave and helpful. I thoroughly look forward developing a meaningful career.

I recently applied to two new roles at my job. I scored an interview to be a learning ambassador, and it went very well. The other position I applied for was BHD Amnesty Quarterback. I do not feel as though my application will be truly considered, because I lack tenure, but I think that if I had an interview that I would really impress the hiring manager. I really enjoy amnesty, and I am extremely knowledgeable and talented at it.

When I wake up, I will be bringing my rabbit, Big Chungus, to Amanda's parents' to be buried. He died relatively young for a rabbit, and I often feel guilty that he passed away. I especially feel guilty that I was not home when he passed, and that I did not notice he was ill until he was very close to death. Amanda said that I gave him a very good life, and my grandmother agrees with Amanda that rabbits are notorious for hiding their illness and dying suddenly. I believe also that I was irresponsible with him, because he likely died of an intestinal blockage. If that is true, then I feel ashamed because he would have ate something that I carelessly left lying around. I did love him, and I wanted him very much. I hope that his soul is at peace and that he knows that I did love him. I feel even more ashamed that he passed during such a hard time in my life, and I cannot afford to give him a proper cremation. His burial is taking place over a month after his passing due to my inability to drive and financial dismay.

I am struggling again to keep in contact with my loved ones. It is not that I am not thinking of them; I am just too exhausted from work and trying to straighten my life out and can't muster up the brain cells to have a conversation with them. I am good about talking to Amanda and Max, but I would like to talk to my grandmother and my sister more often. Both of them are bad at replying, too, but I don't reach out on a regular basis. I am currently not talking to my adoptive uncle after he recently gave my step-father information about me and tried to help him contact me. I was so triggered by this that I restricted him immediately and have not even checked to see what he said after I declined. I had asked my uncle for financial help, which made me feel very guilty for ghosting on him, but I think it was inappropriate to ask me those things and give him information about me knowing full well that I intentionally don't contact him. I have never told my adoptive family how my step-dad abused my mother, and when I told my adoptive grandmother how he treated me, she promised to help me. Then, she never did and even at one point recommended I run away to live with my sister after graduation. Because of this, I never felt comfortable disclosing anymore details to her, or to my uncle. I often feel that they are choosing him over me just because I'm not biologically related to them. I feel very lonely because of this, and starved of the protection that children are supposed to get from the adults they trust. As a result, I do not contact them very often anymore.

I realized while thinking in the shower that I have a very all-or-nothing personality. That applies to chores, self-care, using cannabis, making purchases, and creating art. I am trying to work on that part of myself. When I was in group therapy, the therapist had suggested I learn how to compromise with myself on low-energy/low-mood days. I had never thought like this before, and the change in perspective has been refreshing. When growing up, especially after losing my mother, I had always been expected to be perfect. B's and C's aren't good enough, I needed straight A's or I wasn't worth anything. If do something for myself, I need to do it for everyone else, too. If I do one chore, of course, I would need to clean the whole house. And I'd better do it all with vigor, lest I be accused of dilly-dallying and receive a verbal lashing, snatching of whatever I'm doing from my hands, or whatever item my step-dad held as he expressed his malcontent chucked at me. I don't really know how to just do a little and work towards a goal in the long-term, but I am trying very hard to learn and making progress on a regular basis.

I think that is all that I have to share today. I am looking forward to all these changes, even though I am a little apprehensive still. Until next time, take care of yourself.

[all-the-kissing-books]

I’m not working out an inappropriate aesthetic crush on a coworker by writing down workplace romance snippets. Of course not. I have a shifter novel and gym novel and I don’t need another plot bunny to run around my Google Drive files like some sort of maniac. The last thing I need is a new story idea right before NaNoWriMo. 

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook/Jimin: Okay (7)

In which you meet Jimin and Jungkook by complete chance- running off before you could even notice the connection you have with not just one- but both of them.

Tags/Warnings: Wolf!Jungkook, Wolf!Jimin, Wolf!Reader, fluff, Angst, smut in future chapters, injustice against werewolves, mistreatment, judgment, past abuse, poly! Relationship, mentions of death, Idol!Jungkook, Idol!Jimin

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"I'll be here as soon as she texts me, sharp." Hana threatens Jungkook, who'd opened the hotel room door for you and her, his doe eyes staring back at her as he nods. "If she gets uncomfortable, or I hear one single thing from her that you-"

"Hana, I'll be fine." You reassure her, hugging her goodbye for now, before you walk past Jungkook- dodging his arm that's holding the door as you slip underneath into the room. Hana doesn't leave without pointing at her eyes, before she points at his.

"I've seen enough crime documentaries. I know how to hide a body, mutt."She says, before she leaves, making him swallow a little.

"She's harmless. I'm sorry if she makes you guys uncomfortable."You bow a little, as Jimin simply smiles.

"If anything I'm glad you have her." He reassures, opening the bags as he sits down. "Come, sit down. You too kookie, come on." He tells his mate, who eagerly walks over to sit next to you on the other side. You've got them both next to you, and it should make you feel uncomfortable. You don't know them, after all.

But its weirdly comfortable.

Both of them put some food onto your table, hotel service having brought the food just minutes before you'd turned up at their door. It's still hot- and you're sure it's the most expensive dinner you've ever had in your entire life.

"So- you work as a set designer, right?" Jimin questions, starting a conversation with ease. You nod, starting to talk about your career a little as you all eat, Jungkook next to you feeding off of any information you give to them both. He enjoys having you close like this.

He enjoys having you both close like this.

After a while, you become a lot more at ease with everything, even starting to joke around a little as the two wolves relish in the way you let loose. It's a stark contrast to how you've acted while at work- there, you'd been meek and small, never talking too much, always sticking close to Hana.

"I remember when I worked at a hotel kitchen."You chuckle, as you let yourself lean back onto your hands a little, mattress of their bed soft underneath your palms. "It was fun."

"Why'd you quit?" Jungkook asks, watching you as you shrug.

"I didn't." You explain. "But when the government pushed the whole laws on Omegas, the hotel didn't want to keep me. And I didn't get any new jobs at other hotels either." You say.

"Wait, why couldn't they keep you?" He wonders, unsure.

"I'm an omega. You know, that means added to the standard vacation days, I got two weeks heat leave every three months. Coworkers don't like that, usually."You joke- but both Jimin and Jungkook seem horrified.

"Two weeks of heat leave?" Jimin questions. "Wait, since when is it just two weeks? That's way too short-" he questions, watching as you helplessly shrug. "What the hell, I thought it was four all along."He mumbles to himself.

"How do you manage that? Are your heats just that short?" Jungkook asks, making you pout a little to yourself.

"Not really. I just take either suppressants, or.. uh.." you start to stumble over your words, barely catching you before you could slip. "Yeah. I take suppressants."

"Omega." Jungkook threatens, voice deep as he commands a proper answer. Jimin instantly steps in, pushing him away by his shoulder with a gentle hand.

"Thats not a solution at all." He scolds way lighter, keeping a side eye on his distressed mate. "Have you talked to-"

"Look, I.." you start, sitting up a little more tense now again. "Listen. I'm not trying to offend you two but-" you start, fiddling with your fingers as you look down. "But I don't think how have a grasp on what it's like to be a.. you know, normal wolf." You say. "Talking to superiors does nothing at best- and at worst, makes it all worse." You explain grimly. "Especially as an omega- I'm seen as nothing but a sex-hungry beast. I'm sorry but that's the reality of it all." You say, suddenly not feeling very comfortable anymore as you get up. "I'll.. I'm sorry I killed the mood. I'll text Hana to pick me up." You say, before bowing. "Dont worry, I won't tell her why I left. Thank you for the food." You say, before you walk out the hotel door-

Jimin barely able to hold his mate back to run after you. Not because Jungkook put up a huge fight-

But because he almost went after you himself.

[florencemachina]

So I work for a 💫company💫

And let's say this company have a lot of green in their theme, and a big capital letter for their logo, and is ONLY found in the South right

Well, boy howdy have I got a story for YOU. One of my coworkers found me working back in the kitchen of deli and told me that customer service hates me apparently. So naturally im curious, im like why does customer service hate me? And hes like well idk if its all of customer service but ik at least 1 person who hates ur fucking guts and im like 😮 wtf!!! So hes like do u wanna know who it is? Yeah? No? Yeah? And im like YES I WANNA KNOW FUCKIN TELL ME!!! Hes like its *this person who is a cis woman and a lesbian*

Ive NEVER had a problem with this chick either. Like shes standoffish but i assumed thats just like her personality, right? But i guess fuckin not! So naturally i tell him ive never had any problems with her before and hes explains she said:

"Well that little girl over in deli keeps making everyone call her a boy and she walks around all high and mighty wearing girls clothes" and im like FUCKING PARDON??? and he told her, like "hey some people arent fully transitioned but we still need to respect their pronouns, even if we dont agree with them. And ofcourse im like did u report her? To which hes like Well no, do you want me to? And im like YES?????

So since it's pride month, let's talk about transphobia, yeah? I've got it pinned on my other blog, and I'm not sure if it's pinned here, but terfs and transphobes among other people are not welcome. And this right here? Is terf shit. You never know what someone is going through or how they live their life. I've had a handful of conversations with this girl, and not once have I corrected my pronouns to her cus for me it's like why bother? We work in different departments. Why does she HAVE to know? Now, this isnt the case for every trans person, but for me personally it's a hassle to force everyone to use my correct pronouns.

HOWEVER

When you create a safe space for transphobes, you create an unsafe space for transgender folks. I explained to my coworker that he NEEDS to report that to management because *that woman* will continue to spread slander and hate until my workspace is unsafe to attend. This reaches much farther than my feelings. Imagine if someone who's still in the closet had heard that? Now they feel unsafe at work. Or if I was just starting testosterone and was feeling very unconfident? Terf shit is this kind of transmedical righteousness that floats around lgbtq+ spaces. Your gender is your own to define. And if someone lets you know their pronouns, just fucking respect them. It's basic shit. What if I invalidated her experience as a lesbian by saying "you just havent found the right man"? My choice to wear effeminate clothing during my off hours may not even be something I can help. I have to take binder breaks, unfortunately revealing my breasts under my shirts.

Also, hot take, maybe clothes aren't fucking gendered. Another hot take, maybe im too poor to afford masculine style clothes. Or? I could just not like the way they fit/look on me. It could be any number of reasons, but regardless? The way I present myself is no proper indication of my gender. Get that terfshit outta here.

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch2 | knj

(verb) flank -

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 3.1K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, lots of fluff in this chapter tbh and you might die because dork namjoon has come to the party ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: sorry this repost is a little late; i've been sick the past two days and holed up in bed for the last one. i'm so excited to release this for you and start on the next chapter.

It is 6:05 in the morning, and you are awake. Not wide awake, but awake. You can’t believe you let Namjoon convince you to get up this early, because frankly, nobody has ever convinced you to get up this early. When he said that you’d have to get there first thing in the morning so you can see everything, you really didn’t think he would mean you’d have to get there at 7 AM. It’s always been your philosophy that it’s wrong to wake up before the sun, and you’re finding that getting out of bed in your pitch black room isn’t easy. You’re gonna have to make sure to clarify everything that man says in the future. Ugh, military men, you think.

You groan, muscles stiff as you finally manage to get yourself out of bed.

Bananas is obviously not getting the memo, the only sign of him being his fluffy tail poking out from under the covers. He’s never been into early mornings either.

Namjoon sent you a text yesterday and told you that the exhibit that he really wants to show you requires tickets. He then told you that because they only sell 100 tickets per day on a first come first serve basis; getting in line any later than 7 AM would surely be entirely too late, apparently. The Daegu Art Museum opens at 10, tickets go on sale at 9:30, yet you need to be in line no later than 7? Sure.

He seemed really excited about the exhibit, though, saying that Yayoi Kusama, whoever that person was, was a genius. So… you couldn’t exactly turn him down. Her works were deep and breathtaking and spoke so much about life, according to Namjoon. He had promised it would be worth it, and you thought about that promise as you groggily did your morning routine. Yeah, you thought, it had better be. If only he hadn’t sent too many pleading-eye emojis.

You grabbed your over the shoulder bag and gave Bananas a good belly rub before heading outside.

Despite being almost non-functional this early in the morning, you beat Namjoon to the museum. Gawking at the massive modern building, you walk up to the front doors, where a decent line has already formed. Okay, maybe he was right.

You find yourself a place at the back of the line and just as you reach in your bag to grab your phone to text him, you see Namjoon walking in your direction, long legs making short work of catching up to you. You catch his eyes lingering on your bare legs as he approaches, and for just a moment, you’re glad you chose to wear this skirt.

“Morning, Namjoon,” you groan, leaning up against the museum’s outer wall. More people start filing in line after you, and you’re thankful Namjoon wasn’t too late. “I guess you were right. Look at all these people.”

“Morning, peach,” he says with another one of his dimpled grins, “Glad it’s warming up out? It’s supposed to hit 20 degrees today.”

“Okay, it is entirely too early for you to be this happy,” you say, voice groggy. Namjoon just shrugs.

“Guess I’m just excited.”

You look around the small crowd that has formed and notice that a lot of the people are sitting up against the wall while they wait. You decide to do the same.

“I am too, trust me,” you say, back resting against the cool stone, “I’m just not usually up this early.”

“I see. Maybe conversation can keep you awake. Are there any other places in Daegu you want to see?” Namjoon inquires.

“Well, there is that aquarium I keep hearing about. One of my coworkers on post says that there are mermaids that do a little performance with the fish.”

“Oh! I know which one you’re talking about! I’ve actually been there a few times. I love it there! Fish are so cool.”

“Before I went into veterinary science,” you say, “I was originally planning on being a marine biologist.”

“You’re a vet? I didn’t know that! No wonder Bananas looks like such a happy pup!”

“Yeah,” you say, letting your head fall back, “he really is. But, I really want to go check it out. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to an aquarium.”

“The mermaid performers swim around with a bunch of stingrays. Stingrays are actually not that dangerous, especially if they have the barbs removed from their tails.”

You feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Wow, I didn’t know that.”

“A lot of people think they’re really dangerous because Steve Irwin died from a sting from a stingray, but his injury was a result of the barb piercing his thoracic wall. Most stingray injuries are actually very mild.”

“That’s interesting,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering closed.

“Some people think that cutting down their barbs is abuse, but it’s like cutting off a fingernail to humans. They don’t feel it at all and it grows back over time.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you say as you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

“It’s the touch tanks that can be a little problematic,” Namjoon continues, oblivious, “Stingrays have a type of mucus that covers their body that protects them from bacteria. If that gets rubbed off, they become vulnerable. A lot of zoos and aquariums are taking plenty of precautionary measures though, like making sure the guests wash their hands before and after they experience the touch tank. In fact, I think that given the proper precautions, touch tanks…”

______________

The warmth next to you feels like home, and threatens to pull you back to sleep. You feel yourself holding onto something... firm and yet so soft, but it’s comforting, so you tighten your grip and nuzzle further in. You then feel a gentle breeze run across your legs and wonder where your blankets have gone. Bananas has probably hogged them all. You breathe in and smell laundry detergent, a little musk and… men’s deodorant? There’s the quiet chatter of birdsong, and an unmistakable trickle of water, and you instantly remember where you are.

Your eyes snap open to find yourself snuggled up to Namjoon, arms hooked around his bicep and cheek against his shoulder. He seems un-bothered by your lack of respect for his personal space; he doesn’t even look up from his book. Like it’s the most natural thing for you to be attached to him like this. Embarrassed, you quickly distance yourself from him and apologize profusely while he just chuckles a bit. He puts his bookmark in to keep his place and turns towards you as you blink yourself awake, tasting the dryness in your mouth. Oh god, you must have had your mouth open.

“It’s fine, peach. I didn’t even realize you were asleep until you started snoring.”

You gasp. “I did not!”

“Oh, you did,” he says, eyeing you playfully, “It was only a little though. And it was really quiet. Kind of cute, actually.” You play hit him in the arm that you had just been latched on to.

“Hey, don’t be mad at me. I bought your ticket!”

“You what?! What time is it?” you ask, scrambling to look at your phone. It was 5 minutes until open. “Namjoon, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I was going to, but you were sleeping so hard...”

“Well, at least that means I wasn’t all over you this entire time.”

“Oh, no," he says, "you were.”

You groan. “How did you get up and buy the tickets then without me knowing?”

“A man has to have some secrets, you know. Come on, let’s go look at some art.”

The inside of the Daegu Art Museum is stunning. The lobby is bright and open; the sunlight pours into that first room through the large windows, casting a lovely morning light on all of the bright and cheery visitors. Some of the larger pieces are displayed in this grand lobby, some towering ten of feet above you.

“Namjoon, this is beautiful.”

“Just you wait, Come on, first we’ll do classical, then lunch, then modern art. The best one we’ll save for last.”

Classical art wasn’t your favorite, but Namjoon got absorbed in just about every piece. When he saw one that really grabbed his attention, he would sit there gawking at it, mouth open as he read from the little plaque next to it. The way his eyes filled with wonder and widened with discovery at the newly rotated paintings was absolutely adorable. He almost had this child-like wonder about him, eagerly looking back and forth from the plaque to the painting and back again. You almost enjoyed studying Namjoon instead of the art.

You let him take the lead, showing you some of his favorite pieces as you navigate through the galleries. He is definitely in his element here. After he finishes his embellished tour of the classical works, you both decide it would be a good time to break for lunch. The museum has a little cafe, so Namjoon takes care of waiting for your orders while you are tasked with finding a nice spot to spread your blanket outside on the grounds. You see a spot beneath a tree offering up a little shade, so you spread the blanket over the soft grass and take your place, closing your eyes and breathing in the fresh air. Namjoon soon arrives with your food, and settles down next to you.

Before you start to eat, you remove your cardigan, exposing your chest and arms to the air, hoping to enjoy some of the new warmth in Daegu. You hear Namjoon take a sharp inhale, and thinking something’s wrong, you quickly look over at him. He’s got his eyes trained on you, and he swallows hard before he realizes you’re looking at him. He jerks his gaze away, finds something else to look at and shakes his head, as if to clear it. Was he… checking you out?

“Sorry, I thought I uh…” he trails off, “thought I saw a bug. It was, uh, just a shadow.”

“Uh, thanks for uh, looking out,” you say, before a thought strikes you, “Hey, Namjoon. I brought my painting stuff with me today. I was hoping to paint a little while we eat, is that okay? I don’t want to be bad company.”

He perks up, “Oh, yeah, sure. I can just keep reading my book. Hypervelocity stars aren’t going to learn about themselves!”

You set about getting out your watercolor palette, planning on using some of your bottled water to wet your paints. For some reason, you glance back over at Namjoon. He’s sitting with his back against the tree, legs crossed at the ankles, book in one hand, and bao in the other. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed together in concentration, and he lazily takes a bite, not even looking at the bao bun. You hold back a giggle when you see he got some sauce on his mouth. You can’t help but point it out by getting his attention and tapping your own bottom lip. Namjoon studies you for a minute, and slowly licks his bottom lip, almost too slowly. Before you can register what he had just done, he just smiles at you innocently and goes back to reading his book.

This man is going to kill you, so he might as well be the subject for your art. The way he’s positioned himself is just too adorable to ignore.

After getting the basic shape of his outline done and halfway through the details in his face, he stirs from his place under the tree. You watch him as he places his book down carefully on the blanket and walks toward your back, steps ever so gentle. You turn your head and see a little bird hopping around on the grass, and Namjoon is after it. He breaks off a piece of bread from his second bao and extends it towards the bird, who eyes him suspiciously. To your surprise though, it hops forward and takes the bread, chirping up at Namjoon. He goes to sit cross legged on the ground, but doing so ends up startling the bird, who then flies a short distance away on the lawn. Namjoon sulks and pouts a little before getting up and walking after the bird. This is the craziest thing you have ever seen. You love animals so much that you’ve dedicated your career to helping them stay healthy, but this is on a whole other level.

You go back to refining your art, throwing some color into the sky and on the tree, seeing as your main subject has wandered off.

You’re startled when he comes back from behind you.

“How’s the art coming?” he asks, looking over your shoulder at your book, “Hey! Is that me?!”

“Well, it was going to be until you started playing Snow White.”

“Yeah…” he says, looking down at what’s left of his sandwich, “the little guy ate all my bread.”

You laugh a little at him as he frowns at the char siu pork filling barely being contained by the thinnest bun dough you’ve ever seen. Widening his eyes, he downs the rest of the bao bun in one bite.

“Dind youh whanna fhinish youhr phaintingh?” he says, covering his full mouth as he speaks.

“I can finish it some other time. Let’s go see the modern stuff before I want another nap.”

Stepping into the large room that houses the modern art, you take in a sharp breath with how absolutely full it is. Sculptures, paintings, installations; and in the back of the room is a line leading to a small door. You don’t know where to look first, so thankfully your personal tour guide is there to show you the way.

You’re reading the plaque on a minimalistic piece when Namjoon comes and grabs your wrist, excitedly ushering you to follow him. He leads you to the other side of the room where he stops in front of a section of blank wall, gesturing for you to look at it. You sit there and wonder what in the world he could be talking about when you see it. A piece of bright pink gum is stuck to the pristine white wall.

“This wasn't here last time!” he exclaims in a whisper. “I can’t believe this.”

“Yeah, kinda sucks that someone did that.”

“No, you don’t get it. This is an installation.”

“... are you sure about that?”

“Yeah! Look, it's about how such a simple thing can ruin something so large. Like finding a fly in your chardonnay, or there being a hair in your food, or one small imperfection in a person ruining your whole view of them.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s actual trash, Namjoon.”

“Of course it’s actual trash. I don’t think the artist could have gotten the point across without using actual chewing gum. It says so much. It might also be depicting the actual process of tainting something too! Like, how long did the artist chew the gum before they stuck it there? How much time and effort did it take them to ruin this whole wall with their gum? Where’s the plaque?”

As Namjoon searches the nearby walls for a plaque, a janitor comes by and scrapes off the gum, smiling gently at the both of you. You send Namjoon a pointed look, one that’s screaming “I told you so,” and then you both start laughing, having to hold back most of the sound in the quiet of the viewing space.

“Okay, last but not least. You ready?” The two of you were next in line to enter that small door you had seen at the back of the room when you first entered. The lady taking the tickets had already informed you that you would have five minutes once the door shut. You still had no idea what to expect.

“Yeah, I guess I had better be.” The door opened, letting out the museum goer who had just been in there.

Namjoon leaned up to your ear from behind and gently said, “Close your eyes.”

You were about to protest when he continued speaking, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I’ll walk you in there and tell you when to open. Trust me?”

You answered him by letting your lids drop. You felt him guide you by your shoulders as you walked gently forward and then to the right. You could tell that the floor texture had changed from the concrete you’d been walking on all day to something more plastic. You heard the door softly click shut behind you.

“Open,” he commanded softly, and you complied.

You could not make sense out of what you were seeing. The view went on forever, but you could tell that the actual room was so very small. Directly in front of you and on all sides were mirrors, infinitely reflecting off of themselves into the horizon. You were both completely surrounded by them. Scattered around the part of the room that wasn’t the black platform that you were standing on were delicate fairy lights in a cool white tone. It felt like you were floating in a void, so endless and empty. There were specks of brightness, but they did nothing to change the darkness enveloping you. Though it felt infinite, there was a nagging sense of being trapped. Surrounded on all sides. It was beautiful and terrifying to look at. Consumed by everything and nothing. You forgot Namjoon was there until he spoke quietly against your ear.

“This is what I think grief looks like. If it could take a physical form, this would be it.”

He’s right. He’s so right. You’re being swallowed by emptiness. You both are.

You both stand there in silence for the next few minutes, Namjoon’s warmth radiating onto your back, his hands still on your shoulders. Occasionally, his breath would brush against the nape of your neck.

“You really get it, don’t you?” you ask quietly.

“I can’t say I understand what it’s like to lose a spouse, peach. But I understand grief in my own way. I know this sounds crazy, because I don’t believe in any higher power, but I think we were supposed to meet each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean... “ he starts, “I just feel better when I’m around you. I feel like a… better person. You don’t treat me like... “ he stops himself.

“Like what, Namjoon?”

“You don’t treat me like other people do. In a lot of ways. That’s... the easiest way to say it.”

You just nod, wanting to soak up these last few moments in this room with him. In this dark space, it’s not so scary to get close. You allow yourself to lean back into him, and he stiffens up for a moment before circling his arms around you.

“We’re gonna get through all of this together,” he says against your ear, “I promise. Together.”

[ohmyprodigalson]

I was wondering if you could do a Reader X Malcolm where the reader is Gils daughter and has been love with Malcolm since they were kids. But he doesn't see it at least not till he comes back to New York. If you don't have time then don't worry about it! I've just been having fun reading your stories!! 😊

Thank you! I hope you like this one, too 😊 There are no trigger warnings,

Word Count: 1,025

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(Y/N) stopped by the precinct to give Gil, her father, some lunch she made for him. Sometimes he forgot to eat proper meals while he was on a big case. She entered his office and was deeply surprised to find Malcolm standing there. Her eyes grew wide and she was speechless. Her childhood flashed before her eyes.

After Dr. Whitly's arrest, Malcolm spent a lot of time with her father, and consequently herself. When they were children and Malcolm was mute, she used to sit with him and read stories because she loved to read and thought that it might make him happy, too. As they grew older, they would hang out during the summers, because they couldn't spend time together while attending different schools.

At some point, (Y/N) realized that she had fallen in love. She would try to drop hints here and there, but Malcolm always seemed preoccupied and busy. He never noticed when she would put on a pretty dress to impress him, or when she tried to prompt him to discover it in conversation. But after they went to college, they stopped speaking. They both just got too busy. And because they went to separate schools, they never had class together.

When (Y/N) saw Malcolm in Gil's office, all of her feelings came rushing back to her. For the first time in ten years, he spoke to her.

"Oh, (Y/N)! It's been a really long time." He smiled widely at her. He hadn't seen her in so long, and he hadn't thought about her for years.

She shook off her surprise and answered back just as happily. "It has! What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know..." Malcolm shook his head from side to side. "This and that."

Gil spoke up. "Malcolm is working with me now, on my team." He looked at them and saw the children he raised. Then a thought occurred to him. "Hey, why don't you guys catch up? You know, get some dinner and talk about your lives?"

There was a second of panic for (Y/N). This sounded like a date. Why would her dad suggest they go on a date?

Malcolm spoke in a lighthearted tone. "That would be wonderful. How about Thursday? I know the best place we can go."

(Y/N) was taken aback. Did Malcolm not realize that this sounded like a date? Was he naive or did he not care? She consciously took a deep breath. Malcolm was probably just seeing this as a friendly outing. Her tone was still light when she responded. "I could do Thursday. Do you want me to meet you here?"

"Sure, sounds like a plan."

(Y/N) returned Malcolm's smile as she gave Gil his lunch and left. Malcolm watched after her with a question. Had she always been this beautiful? He thought back to their childhood; how kind she had been to him after his father's arrest, and her friendship that lasted until they went to college.

Thursday arrived, and (Y/N) waited at the precinct for Malcolm in a flowy blue dress. She dressed herself up but tried to keep herself from going overboard. When Malcolm greeted her, he was floored once again by her beauty.

They spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing over dinner. (Y/N) was worried it would be awkward, in a situation that could easily be interpreted as a date. But their conversation was effortless, and it felt good to catch up. So much had happened to both of them within the past ten years.

During their meal Malcolm watched her. He couldn't help but profile his friends and coworkers because it came so naturally to him. But he noticed some of her word choices and the specific movements she would make when talking about the past were... different. Malcolm couldn't believe himself when he had the thought. Was she in love with him? Since they were children? How could he have not seen it before? He pushed those thoughts aside while they talked, because there was nothing he could do with them. It was an epiphany he had to keep to himself.

After some prompting by the waitstaff, they realized they had been talking for a couple of hours and left the restaurant. They stood on the sidewalk and said their goodbyes. (Y/N) had fun, catching up as a friend, but when they were saying goodbye, she couldn't help but fall back into her past feelings and wish that he would kiss her. She contained her feelings though, and said a normal, friendly goodbye.

But she must have been distracted by her thoughts, because when she stepped out into the street, she didn't look for cars. A car was speeding towards her down the busy street, but Malcolm's reflexes were fast enough to grab her and pull her back onto the sidewalk.

As he pulled her out of harm's way, she was spun around until Malcolm held her against himself, his arm wrapped around her. She looked up at him with eyes wide. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins from her near-accident, but it was making her heart beat in her ears now as she looked into Malcolm's brilliantly blue eyes. He looked at her and, holding her so close, he had the urge to kiss her. Before he could process a single thought he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

(Y/N) thought she must surely be in a dream, but this felt too real. And even if it was a dream, she knew she had to take this opportunity to do what she had longed to do for years. She gripped his suit as she kissed him back, a deeper and more passionate kiss than the one he gave her. When they pulled apart from each other, he let her go and they took a step away from each other. (Y/N) blushed as she looked away, but Malcolm spoke to her.

"Why don't we do this again some time?"

She looked back and found him smiling. (Y/N) was suddenly warm with pure joy. Her childhood dream came true, and she couldn't believe it.