We Need Gregor's Cookbook! With Notes And Everything In Each Recipe. Like, How Did He Come Up With That

Reblog and put in the tags what’s the stupidest injury you’ve ever had

Can I request a Cody and reader one shot with the theme of overworking? The reader is in a position in which she’s being overworked (whether it’s bec it’s the natural workload for the reader or bec the reader’s coworkers is relying on them to help finish their workload) and Cody’s just trying to coax them to take a break and destress with him. Thanks! 💖

Overworked

Summary: You're doing too much, and Cody knows it.

Pairing: Commander Cody x Reader

Word Count: 1047

Warnings: Insecurity (brought about by exhaustion and mean-girl coworkers)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Hihi! I'm sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it! It took me a while to come up with good words to make this word well! ^-^

You like your job. You do. It’s just that some times of the year, your job sucks worse a little more than others. And you know you shouldn’t complain. Your job pays you well enough that you’re able to live in a higher district on Coruscant, and your own boyfriend doesn't get paid at all-

You’re lucky. The fact that your coworkers expect so much from you is a good thing.

You just have to keep reminding yourself.

You stare at the spreadsheet laid out in front of you, and you tangle your hands in your hair. You’re working on hour 12 of your normally 8 hour workday, and you’re on hour 60 of this workweek.

You’re exhausted. Bone deep exhausted. But you can’t rest until the spreadsheet is fixed.

Besides, Cody does a lot more than 60 hour weeks and he never complains, so it’s not far for you to complain about a little extra work. You slide your hands to the back of your neck, and try to work some of the painful knots out. 

It’s not going to work. It never does. But you also feel like you can’t, shouldn’t, ask Cody for help. Because he will. He’ll come in and he’ll dote on you, and you won’t finish your work, and…well, the last thing you want is to be more work for Cody.

So you’ll power through. It’s fine.

You drop your hands back to your desk, and you start going through the spreadsheet again, line by line, number by number. 

And then you jump when you feel warm hands against the back of your neck, “Cyare,” Cody’s voice is low, “You’ve been at this for hours. You need a break.”

“I’m almost done,” You reply as you relax under his touch.

“You said that three hours ago, mesh’la.”

You both pause when your datapad dings, and another spreadsheet comes through your email, and your face falls. “Just a little more, Cody. I promise.”

He hums thoughtfully, and then he slides his hands from your neck to your shoulders, and he digs his thumbs into the tense muscles there. You yelp, and then, as he starts slowly massaging your shoulders, your shoulders slump. “Is there a reason you’re working so hard, cyare?”

“It needs to be done,” You mumble.

“I know, baby. But you shouldn’t have to pull 12 hour shifts and 50 hour work weeks-”

“60.” You correct as you lean back into his touch.

Cody huffs out a sharp breath, “That’s worse. Tell me you understand that that’s worse.” He presses a light kiss to the top of your head, “Come on, cyare. Take a break, the work will wait.”

“I don’t-”

“I’ll give you a full body massage, love. With the oils you like so much.” He moves his lips from the top of your head to your neck, and you can’t help but to sigh in pleasure at the feel of his warm lips against your skin. “Nothing strenuous. Just relaxing.”

“Sounds nice,” You mumble.

“It does, doesn’t it.” He sounds smug about it too.

A low sigh falls from your lips and you reach up to lightly trail your fingers against his cheek, and then up into his hair, “I’m sorry.”

Cody pauses, “For what?”

Your smile is slightly wry, “For being just another burden for you to take care of.”

At that he stops moving. And then he moves very fast, spinning your chair so you’re facing him, and he’s kneeling in front of you, his hands warm against your face, “If I’ve ever done or said anything to make you think that I don’t love taking care of you-”

“No, it’s not you, Cody.” You interrupt gently, “I think it of myself.”

“Your brain is playing tricks on you, cyare. Acts of service, taking care of you, it’s how I express my love. You know that.”

“I do.” You agree as you press your cheek against his hand. “Just…some of my coworkers said something, and-”

“And they don’t know me. They barely know you.” He smooths his thumbs over your cheeks, “Why are you letting them get into your head?”

“I don’t know.” You admit with a sigh, “Maybe I’m just tired.”

“I’m sure you are.” He stands and helps you to your feet, lightly tugging you so that you’re pressed against him, and Cody presses feather light kisses across your face, “Why don’t you tell me what your coworkers say?”

“Stupid things. I complain too much about a normal workload. That you work so much more than me, so I should just suck it up-”

Cody bumps his forehead against yours, “I hate them.”

A startled laugh falls from your lips, “Cody!”

“What? I’m not a Jedi, I’m allowed to hate.” But his lips quirk up into a small smile, “I want to hear about your life. I want to hear you complain about your work and your coworkers, and I absolutely do not want you working as much as I do.”

You sigh softly, “I know.”

“I know that you know, but you seem to need the reminder.” Cody leans in and kisses you. A series of kisses so soft and loving that you kind of want to cry. “So here’s your reminder. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You grin at him, “I love you too.”

“Shh. I’m doting on you now. You can have your turn later.”

A giggle falls from you, and he smiles at you, “Now, I owe you a massage. Come on, little love. Off to bed with you, and get naked.”

“You just want me naked,”

“Not gonna deny that, but I’m also not getting oil on your clothes. Scoot.”

You step around him, and then pause. You turn and pull him into a deep kiss, your arms tight around his neck. And when you break the kiss, his gaze is a little hazy, “I love you so much, you know that?” You whisper.

He blinks at you, as you watch him try to reset his brain, “Maybe you should kiss me like that again, to prove it.”

You laugh and pull him back into a deep, passionate kiss, and this time his arms curl tightly around you as he holds you just as tightly.

It's a valid fear, but I think the benefits outweigh the possibility of that happening. Reading books from the genre/s you want to write is an excellent way to learn the rules etc of the genre, so then it'll be easier to follow or subvert readers' expectations. Plus, even if you are heavily influenced by others' work, I believe it will evolve and become more original as you go.

I want to read other books in the genre(s) I'm writing in, but I'm also afraid that if I do, those books will end up influencing my own writing too much, and I'll end up writing something that's effectively a copy of something else. Does anyone have any thoughts on this? Is my fear well-founded?

Hardcase with TWO lightsabers!!!

BONUS

The best way to celebrate May the 4th 😁

Fives and echo

Rex

Commission I drew for @/bittipins on Instagram!

I love them!

you know what will salvage this expensive and unemployable degree? a second, even less employable degree!! #grad school

No, Word, I'm pretty sure anyone with some understanding of English knows that that is not an error. Thanks though.

I thought this was a comment on writing stories yourself versus giving a Gen AI a prompt. But yeah no I'd love a 100k (in money) so I can then work on reaching 100k (in word count).

Ao3 being down at fanfic in bed time is criminal dude I was looking forward to fanfic in bed time.

eleven year olds need book series filled to the brim with violence and crime. it's like enrichment for them