#it’s such a small bathroom like really it just needs and sweep and a mop and a mirror cleaning I keep up with most other things

[milo-is-rambling]

I’ve been saying I was going to deep clean my bathroom for like. Two months. And yet. I could count the hair tumbleweeds and the dust bunnies on the floor

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Hi, please, please, please! I need a premise where Simon finds a pregnancy test in the house he shares with his wife believing it is hers, upset and anxious he asks her for explanations, without giving her the time to give an answer. The test was his girl's sister's ❤️ :')

A Good Father

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Ghost is anxious about being a father.

SFW, Extreme Fluff, Husband!Ghost, Wife!Reader, Comfort, Pregnancy Scares, Domestic, Softness, Vulnerability, Awkward Conversations, Innocent Misunderstandings, I'm reluctant to say there's humor, Scarcely Proofread, Drabble

Personally, I do feel like Ghost would be flustered if he found out his wife was pregnant with his first child. HOWEVER, I don't think he would act rude or distant or cold. Not on purpose. This is how I interpret that I guess. And thank you anon, this was an interesting topic. If you have anymore please don't be shy! ^^

Masterlist

It'd been an accident when he found it, and the kind of accident that could put a man six feet under if you weren't careful.

It was a sunny and rare fall day in which Simon had been let off work before you for once; a welcome change to his usual routine, as he'd been looking forward to surprising you.

He started with the kitchen, knowing it had been one of your least favorite places to clean. He washed and put away the dishes before wiping down the counters, making quick work with sweeping before mopping. In the blink of an eye he'd already straightened up the living room, which made the dining room light work in comparison. All that had remained was the bathroom, your second least favorite room to clean.

When he arrived home and saw you were gone, he'd thought to himself -- What would be a better surprise than coming home to your man and a clean home? It hadn't been as often as he liked where he was given such an opportunity, so he jumped at the chance without question the second the idea popped into his mind.

There hadn't been much to contend with, a few misplaced clothes and some used towels. He'd just begun picking things up when he'd suddenly heard something small clatter against the bathroom tiles. Finally he saw the tiny, long piece of white plastic sitting tucked between the toilet and the counter -- A pregnancy test.

At first glance Simon froze, unsure as to what exactly he was even looking at. It hadn't been every day he was faced with these sorts of things; you'd only recently broken the record for being the longest relationship he's been in. So when he saw it, his mind hadn't wanted to jump to conclusions. Not at first...

...But when he picked it up off the floor and felt the thing in his hands, it was as the whole world had stopped. His brown eyes skimmed over that red plus sign at the corner of the test and reality felt anew. A positive result.

A number of emotions ran through Simon, though none could be more certain than the sudden shakiness to his grip and the tightening of his jaw. A pang of nausea coarsed through him, soon followed by a sudden guilt for that. He must have stood in that bathroom for a solid three minutes before his thoughts had somewhat gathered...

Pregnant. You were pregnant, and you didn't tell him. Why? Had you not planned on keeping it, or were you simply just waiting to break the news to him?

Robotically, naturally, Simon finds himself continuing with what he was doing before, throwing the test away and continuing with cleaning. He hadn't known what else to do really; anything else and he may just storm out and call you about it.

But no, he wouldn't do that. He couldn't. His emotions are just out of sorts now and he's confused. There wouldn't be a point in channeling that confusion into anger and taking it out on you, especially since you're the one with the answers.

The final thing to clean had been the mirror. As Simon began to wipe the glass down, he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection. There he sees the battered husk he barely recognized at times. A father.

It felt unreal. Both too good to be true and a waking nightmare. He'd always dreamed of being a father some day, perhaps, in a different life which allowed him to be a part of his child's world in the proper way that he had desired. Some parts had been out of spite of his own father, having had some subliminal need to prove to a ghost what a real parent looks like. Other parts of him genuinely longed for a family of his own, and something he could be a part of from the start and see through to the end. To be a father would make him the happiest man alive.

Yet he wasn't ready, not now. Not in ways in which he felt he could really be of any use to you and your child. He feared every bit that could replicate his own childhood into his life today. There had still been so much of himself he'd felt needed to be set right before bringing someone into this world under him. He'd just wanted this moment to be perfect...

Simon didn't bring it up when you got home. Seeing the excitement on your face to see him nearly made him forget about the whole ordeal entirely. But it lingered on his mind like a heavy weight, and you could see it.

You asked him if he was OK, and despite himself he'd told you he was fine, only tired. He'd hoped that perhaps you might bring it up yourself, though you don't, merely continuing about the evening as usual.

Dinner was awkward, mainly do to Simon's stoic behavior, even moreso than usual. He stayed up to watch a movie with you, though he hadn't said much at all during it, forgoing his usual jokes and one-liners.

It hadn't been until you'd crawled into bed next to him that he finally spoke, though it hadn't been what you expected to hear.

"Do you think I'd make a good father?"

The question catches you off guard and you laugh and little, rotating yourself in his arms and resting your chin on his chest to look at him. From there you've felt his fluttering heartbeat dancing anxiously against your palms.

"Of course I do, Si'," you say. "Why?"

He's quiet again. Even in the dark you know those brown eyes are sifting through the room, looking anywhere but where you are. His hands over you shuffle slightly, and he sighs. "I have my doubts sometimes."

"I don't know why," you smile. "You're one of the best men I've ever met. I've always thought you'd make good "dad" material."

Simon can't help but smile. "Is that right?"

"I mean you've already got the dad jokes down," you tease. "What more do you need?"

You both laugh lightly to each other, and Simon feels a warmth grow in him that only you seem able to bring forth. Even when you know something is on his mind, you go out of your way to make him smile first. It's these reasons he loved you.

"Is this your way of saying you're interested in... trying?"

Unsure of what ruse you were playing now, and no longer being able to hold himself back any longer, Simon sits up, signaling to you that this was about to become something much deeper than anticipated.

"No," he says rather coldly. Too blunt for what he'd intended.

"Oh," you say, unable to hide the disappointment in you tone. You then look up to him, confused. "Is something the matter? You've been acting odd since I got home."

"I'm just wondering when you're going to break the news to me."

"The news?"

"Your first step into motherhood."

You pause. "My... what? What are you on about?"

"I found the pregnancy test."

You pause again, audibly making a confused "oop" noise as you tried to figure out what it was your husband was talking about. "Pregnancy test?"

The confusion in your tone now only makes Simon pause. "Yes," he says. "A pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test."

You're sitting there racking through your brain now, trying to recall when it was you took this said test. Having brought it up, all the thoughts Simon's had little time to sort through can't help but spill from him now.

"I'm not mad," he leads with. "I'm just... I wasn't...

"Oh!" You interject suddenly, a light bulb going off over your head. "That was my sister's!"

"...Wha'?"

"My sister came over this morning. She didn't want our mom to find it so I said she could do it here," you explain, before chuckling. "Though I'm gonna have to yell at her later since can't clean up after herself... Didn't mean to spook you though, love."

Simon sits there silent and frozen, still processing the last minute. "...So you're not pregnant then?"

"No," you laugh. "Not that I know of anyway."

No. He won't be a father after all. If he'd felt his emotions swirling earlier, they've torn into a twister now. He won't be a father.

It disappointed him, despite his reluctance earlier. Had he been looking forward to it more as the day went on? This was for the best, nonetheless. Now at least he could breathe again.

"Fuckin' hell," Simon lets out a heavy sigh, a boulder of stress dropping from his shoulders like a landslide. "Don't scare me like that, love. Y'nearly did me in with that."

You smirk, climbing back onto Simon until your legs were straddling him against the bed. You lean forward, letting your nose brush his and his breath detail his presence to you in the dark. Before you've kissed him, you linger there for a spell, simply marinating in the moment.

"I still think you'd make a wonderful father, Si'."

You feel him sigh, his body sinking comfortably beneath you, as you've felt his callous palms cup your cheeks gently.

"You'd make a beautiful mother."

"I'm still up for trying," you say. "If you think we're ready, I mean..."

Simon pulls you in, until your lips have found his, locking in its familiar ways. Between the soft pecks he'd left, he spoke to you softly, holding you close.

"We're not getting any younger."

(╹◡◠)

[iluvangel]

🖇·˚ ༘ ┊͙[Cleaning with the Akatsuki] ! ˊˎ {Akatsuki x reader}

FT - ITACHI, SASORI, PAIN, DAIDARA

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

𝑰𝑻𝑨𝑪𝑯𝑰 🥀 :

⭑ would love to clean the living room, the scene when he chases the chicken while trying to make food imagine that but he’s running around the living room vacuuming

⭑ he would despise having to clean the bathroom it would gross him out

⭑ he would have a bad habit of trying to do everything multiple times to ensure it’s clean. After his first time vacuuming he would walk around staring intensely at the carpet to make sure he didn’t miss a single thing, and then even tho he didn’t miss anything he would still go over it again just in case

⭑ he would be a psychopath and not listen to music while he cleans, however; when he cleans with you he dosnt mind when you put on a calm playlist (he definitely loves classical music) - If you did choose to put on a playlist then after his vacuuming and and ur dusting or organizing he would take ur hand and spin you to face him. He would start to slow dance pulling you in to follow his lead

⭑ after intensely running around the living room and giving the carpet a good stare down, he would make sure ur done as well and help if needed - then you both shower or bathe whichever you prefer - finally you both can relax in bed and watch a movie or simple hold each other as you both drift to sleep

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

𝑺𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑰 🪆 :

⭑ he wouldn’t particularly like cleaning but he would enjoy organizing (his tools and such) when he does get into the productive cleaning mood he would need a body double. He would appreciate you helping him clean but he wouldn’t want you moving his stuff around so most likely he’d ask you to sweep or dust

⭑ as I said he wouldn’t really like cleaning so it’s not what he doesn’t like to clean it’s what he does and what he will actually be willing to do

⭑ he would have a bad habit of getting easily distracted, not in the worst way but when he cleans and organize his tools he would think of new ideas for his puppets and start working on that instead (thus why he needs you to be there as his body double)

⭑ he would enjoy having music on but it would need to be low so he dosnt get distracted by it, when cleaning with you he would let you put on whatever playlist you want as long as it’s not on full volume

⭑ after organizing he would ask if your done, if you say yes he would go right back to cleaning signaling for you to sit on his lap to keep him company as he enjoyed it while cleaning more than he thought he would. If you say no he would let out a sigh and ask if you need help and what he can do to make help you get it done

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

𝒀𝑨𝑯𝑰𝑲𝑶 (𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑵) 🪦 :

⭑ if he’s in the mood for it he would go ham when cleaning, he would love to clean the kitchen as he finds doing the dishes and moping calming, but only when he’s in the mood for it

⭑ there’s nothing in particular he would complain about when it comes to what he would clean but if he doesn’t want to he won’t. He is pain, after all. No one can really tell him what to do

⭑ his bad habit would be spacing out just randomly as he’s mopping he would just stare at the floor

⭑ he wouldn’t really like music in the background, he would let you put your music on tho. However, he would prefer listening to you yap about whatever came to mind, he would find ur voice easy to get lost in

⭑ after cleaning he would lean against the wall and wait for you to finish, then as your done we would take you by the arm and bring you to the bathroom so you both could shower. And finally he would go back to work allowing you to stay with him only if you’re quiet. If you asked, after showering he would agree to a small nap or one movie before returning to work

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𝑫𝑬𝑰𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑨 👅 :

⭑ he would hate cleaning, no such thing as a cleaning mood for him. You would have to do a lot of convincing and nagging for him to help you

⭑ his least favorite thing would be the bathroom, which is why it would be the room you force him to do first

⭑ “eww EWW! I can’t do it! It’s too gross” his bad habit would be complaining about everything because he knows if he does it enough you’ll let him go do something else as long as it’s cleaning related

⭑ he needs music if he’s going to be cleaning he would love listening to your playlists and hearing new artists

⭑ immediately after cleaning he would drag you into the freshly cleaned shower. Then you both would cuddle in bed and watch whatever he wants “you made me clean now you have to watch what I want, it’s only fair”

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Click here for 🎀 Part 2 🎀

[missbaphomet]

I think I need to take a moment to stress just how puritan and tyrannical laws are in my state regarding sex shops. This just happened and I am frankly baffled.

There was a woman that came in looking for a dozen or so small gifts under $20 each for a dirty Santa party. She asked me to simply find things that fit that price range. I go around the store and collect a few odds and ends. I'm a people pleaser by nature, and I was really happy to bring over some funny bits and bobs. These ladies thanked me profusely for my help. I rang them up and they left. Typical retail, right?

The not-quite-a-manager-but-still-my-superior pulled me aside and informed me she was sending me home early because of the incident described. She explained that because of the severity of the red tape surrounding the legality of the business, I am technically not allowed to discuss products or answer questions at all. More or less, until I have been employed there long enough to be considered "trained", all I can really do is man the register, stock shelves, and other misc tasks like mop or take out trash or break down boxes. Even something as simple as finding something in the store that costs $20 or less can get everyone in some serious hot water. I very well could lose my job over what would be considered excellent customer service in literally any other retail position.

I genuinely don't know if I will be fired over this. My boss is really cool, but historically I'm really unlucky and I seem to be on a losing streak right now. I cannot stress how much I love this job. I do very genuinely enjoy my work and I work my fucking ass off. I spent three fucking hours today doing nothing but putting price tags on lingerie and breaking down boxes. I regularly volunteer for the dirty work no one wants like sweeping and mopping and pouring bleach on dried cum stains on the bathroom floor. This is a labor of love, and something I am extremely passionate about.

But I could lose it all just because I did something I wasn't approved to do, like locate gag gifts under $20. I'm fucking baffled.

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

I have severe ADHD and started meds in December 2023. The sensation for me, when executive dysfunction throws a shit fit, is what I call "couch paralysis." I want to get up and to the thing that needs doing, be it using the bathroom, folding laundry, or even eating. There's just one very big problem: I cannot move. My brain simply won't let me. At least, until it gets to the point of it no longer being able to deny what needs to be done. It's pain from needing to use the toilet that gets me up, or dizzy from being hungry. I didn't know it was so extreme until I was medicated, and now it's less of a struggle. There are still days where I feel like I'm dealing with a child throwing a tantrum, complete with the metaphorical child laying on the ground, kicking and screaming, and refuses to get up, thus requiring I mentally drag this brat with me. But at least I can drag them along instead of being stuck anymore.

A reward system has been what works best for me. I'm up at around 5AM, too early to sew because my sewing room is across the hall from the bedroom, and my husband is still sleeping. So I have tea, breakfast, and spend a max of three hours playing a game or spending time online. At 8AM, I feed my cat, and then get on with my day. The need to play has been satisfied and focus is now possible. Before the meds, I couldn't even get out of bed. I'd just lay there, fully awake, for hours on end, trying to get up.

Big tasks are still difficult, so I break them down into parts. My husband goes to the laundromat to do the washing, but we have a dryer, so we share the task of loading and unloading. However, he hates folding laundry. It's faster for me if he organizes the clean clothes though, and once everything is dry and organized, I get everything folded in less than an hour.

Marie Kondo, and last I checked her show was still on Netflix, has been tremendously helpful with so many tasks. Instead of looking at it as "I need to clean the house," I break it down into parts. Instead of "need," it's a list of independent tasks and I go room by room. Today, I'll sweep the living room, dining room, kitchen, sewing room, bathroom, and bedroom. It sounds like a lot, but my brain is able to see that it's just very small spaces (we live in a small house). When the sweeping is done, I get to play with the really cool steam mop. A regular mop as well as Swiffer's crap would leave chemical residue and mess with my asthma. That made me hate mopping. Now? Easy. This is applied to all tasks for each room. Cleaning the bathroom becomes individual parts of that bathroom. They're small and quick tasks, but "clean the bathroom" sounds big and scares the brat in my brain.

So, for me, the sensation is like dragging a child throwing a tantrum, but now I can drag them rather than feeling like I'm shackled to the couch and unable to move.

Question: what does executive disfunction actually feel like?

[petitebonnie]

♡ FNAF 1 x reader ♡

Characters: Bonnie

Incudles: light angst, fluff ♡

Being a janitor wasn't always the best. You had to clean up after kids and adults it isn't your fault. Out of all the jobs, this small town. This pizzeria joint had the better payment.

At night, you would clean everything up, tables, chairs, floors, bathrooms - anything that needs to be tidy up.

Bonnie watched you a lot.

He loves it when u mop the stage. He can see you way more closely than afar. He notices you like to listen to alternate rock and maybe a bit of metal. Which peeks his interest since he is a guitarist.

Bonnie really liked how you looked in your working clothes, how tightly the jeans would wrap around your thighs and waist how visible your booty was to him..

Your shirt is something he likes too- especially the upper area, if u get what I mean. Whether you had big breasts or not- he didn't care. He just liked that there is something to squish whenever he is in the mood.

Bonnie is very desperate to see you. So don't be mad at him, but he makes a mess near the stage. He loves seeing you sweep and mop the floors - bend over to pick up things and how you handle that stick.

But it wasn't the best outcome for you, of course, the other janitors that work the day shift to clean don't put the cleaning items away where they belong. So you have to find them which really stinks.

Bonnie enjoys seeing you struggle. You always made cute, annoyed facial expressions when u couldn’t find the broom or gloves. If he is feeling nice, he will find them and put them where they belong.

Also, how can I say this? uhm- Bonnie loves locking u inside the closet with him. It's kinda his space to get away from the others. At first, it freaked u out because hello - it's a huge bunny animatronic in the closet with u!!

He smoothly talked his way to you. Saying there isn't anything to worry about.. he forcefully hugs you. He gets a widdle angry if u don't hug him back. So he makes you in a gentle way sometimes.

You two could be stuck in that closet for hours- but he is a very active listener. Whenever u say something interesting, his ears perk up, and you love it. His big red eyes sparkle in interest.

Since you two now hang out in there, you make sure the closet is clean so you and him are very, very clean. You sit on his lap mainly, and he loves to snuggle. He shows his love to you with a much psychical touch.

You even read him stories too, maybe R.L. books. Slappy is his favorite, and yours too. The way you read to him gets his heart racing. You like to act with each different character to give him more volume.

♡ Which he appreciates so much. ♡

When it's time to go home, you are literally dragged back in the pizzeria. You try your best to get your things, but Bonnie is stubborn he thinks u should stay with him instead of leaving him.

So yes- he takes your stuff and puts it on high shelves or even hides it from you. Too make you stay it's not like you have anyone at home, but your kitten/pup.

You brought your pup/kitten to Bonnie, and boy was he jealous - he dispises that thing. As he likes to call it- he doesn't like how u praise them so much, pet them, and give them belly rubs. Feed them or hold them all the time.

But be extra careful not to leave your kitten/pup with Bonnie.

You made the mistake of doing so, and your poor baby was stuck in one of the big trees by the pizzeria. You were super mad at him and didn't talk to him for a day.

Until he was on his knees the next day holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, begging for your forgiveness. Of course u gave in because u know how possessive he can be.

After that incident, he made you food, pizza, and mash potatoes. You had to admit- they both weren't very good. It's not as good as Chicas, but u ate it all to show appreciation.

♡ That's your big loving bunny, but he is just a bad cook. ♡

[fanficimagery]

The Witch’s Companion

Imagine settling down in La Push and instantly hitting it off with a group of locals. You have an instant connection with Sam Uley and though you know exactly what the connection is, you find that you would rather have Sam tell you what it is. Only he has trouble finding a way and you find it rather amusing since you already know all about the supernatural realm. After all, you are a part of it.

Words: 6.3K Author’s Note: This is so bad, but I didn’t wanna trash it. I needed something to post. My apologies.

Since coming into your magic, you've always felt like something was missing. No matter how much you studied or how much progress you made in mastering your abilities, you always felt incomplete. You stayed home long enough to complete your high school education and then worked a few years to earn some cash before deciding to take a chance out in the real world on your own.

Fortunately for you, however, your family knew you'd be leaving the coven and they were more than prepared to send you on your way with funds they had saved up over the years themselves. It was a tearful goodbye, but as soon as you were on the road you felt it in every fiber of your being that you were making the right choice.

You drove for hours on end, not content enough to stop until the moon was high in the sky, and then found the least skeezy motel you could find to stay the night in. Then after paying for the night and putting a sigil of protection on your truck so no one could peek through the windows or break a window without setting off a blaring alarm, you showered and prepared for bed. But as you laid in bed, you tossed and turned as your brain wouldn't shut off. So instead of counting sheep, you got back up and dug out some of your supplies from the bag you kept close to you at all times.

As you sat on the floor with your legs crossed beneath you and a map spread out in front of you, you lit four white candles and placed one on each corner of the map. You took a white crystal on a chain and let it pool in your hand before closing your eyes, then holding the crystal against your chest. With nothing but good intentions and the hope of finding that missing part of you, you rubbed the crystal over your heart before grabbing the chain and letting the crystal hang over the map. And then with your eyes still closed, you twirled the crystal over the map before holding your hand still and letting spirits guide the crystal so you have an inkling of where to drive next.

Minutes passed and when you felt the chain still in your hand, you opened your eyes and found the tip of the crystal pointing towards the North-West portion of the map. So with somewhat of a destination in mind, you packed your belongings and was finally able to fall asleep.

Over the next few days you drove and drove, stopping for bathroom breaks, food and rest when necessary. When you hit the west coast and then started driving north, you were skeptical about where the crystal had really been pointing. But then you get to Forks, Washington and something just feels different. It doesn't feel right, but it's damn near close and you decide to drive around some more.

It isn't until you drive onto the reservation in La Push that it feels like you can properly breathe for the first time ever and you nearly cry tears of relief. But before you can start making plans of settling down, you know there are some things that must be addressed. Because growing up in a coven and learning of every supernatural creature you could, you know La Push is home to the legends of spirit warriors. And behind every legend is truth. So in order to be on good terms with the locals and the elders of the tribe, you know you must ask permission to stay on their lands.

The elders, surprisingly, needed no convincing. They were wary of a witch's presence at first, but after explaining everything to them they seemed to perk up with interest. More than a couple of the elders had twinkling eyes when you spoke of feeling as if a part of you was missing and that you only felt at complete ease once you crossed their borders. They even gave you a few suggestions on available houses in the area and you took your leave after asking them to keep your heritage a secret. You wanted to meet people on your own time and not have anyone seek you out because of what you could do. They completely understood and wished you well.

So a couple weeks later, here you are staring up at your very own two bedroom house. You had some cash put away for this exact occasion, but really it was the elders of La Push who were such a tremendous help in helping you purchase the place. The house itself was practically surrounded by trees and far enough away from any neighbors which granted you all the privacy you needed. So in other words, it was perfect.

You still need furniture and appliances to fill the house, so you've given yourself a time limit of about a week to get everything you need because that's as long as you're willing to stay in a small motel down in Forks. You've already ordered a basic refrigerator and stove, and they're to be delivered in a couple days time. You're still on the lookout for beds and couches, but nothing's caught your eye, so for now you've come to the house prepared with cleaning supplies.

The inside of the house is in pretty great condition, the only thing you really have to do is give it a good dusting, wipe down, and mopping. So after opening up all the windows, you walked around the house with a duster on an extendable arm made sure to dust every corner, nook and cranny of the room. You Windex every glass surface you can before sweeping the floors and then fill up a mop bucket to get started on the floors.

Afterwards, as the floors finish drying, you sit on the porch with a sandwich and Gatorade you had packed into a small ice chest. When you're a little more halfway through, two trucks rumble down the path to your house and you set aside your food in order to stand up and greet them.

Tribal Elder Harry Clearwater is easily recognizable, as is his beautiful wife Sue who is sitting in the passenger seat across from him. The two boys in the truck behind them, however, are new.

Stepping off the porch and meeting your guests halfway, you greet them all with a smile. Sue is the only one to receive a hug whereas Harry offers a handshake. "Hello, Harry. What brings you down here?"

The older man chuckles. "Just wanted to see how you were settling in and introduce you to a few of the young ones."

You finally meet the gazes of the boys behind Harry, taking note of the tribal tattoos on their upper biceps that they're showing off thanks to their sleeveless shirts. Both are wearing cargo shirts and have bare feet which you hardly bat an eye at. "Hello." You wave at them, smiling softly.

"Hey," the slightly shorter of the two smirks, leaning forward and offering his hand, "I'm Paul."

As you grasp his hand, his warmth sends shivers down your spine. "Y/N. It's nice to meet you."

Paul shakes your hand a little longer than normal and you find yourself fighting back a laugh. "Paul, would you let her go? She's clearly not interested." His friend clamps a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back briefly before thrusting his own hand forward. "I'm Jared."

"Hi."

After greeting the two boys, you give a very amused Harry and Sue your attention once more. "So thanks for checking in. I'm just cleaning out the house right now. Getting it ready for deliveries."

"Oh?" Sue perks up. "What did you find?"

"Just a refrigerator and stove for now," you say with a small shrug and sheepish laugh. "I rather have the cabinets and refrigerator stocked with food rather than worry about comfortable bedding. If push comes to shove, I'll happily camp out on an air mattress while I find a decent bed."

Harry chuckles. "I figured you'd be having trouble finding some decent furniture, so I went ahead and went through our storage. Come on," he gestures for you to follow. "Come take a look."

"What?" You stare, wide-eyed, and Sue chuckles before nudging you to follow. You do, with the boys chuckling at your surprise, and you find a wooden bed frame laying in the bed of Harry's truck.

"It's a bit old," Harry then admits, "but it's still very sturdy. It was wasting away in our storage, so I figured it could go to a good home."

"Are- are you sure?"

"Of course," Sue assures you. "We also have a couch and a recliner if you're interested. They're still in really good condition."

"Well yeah! If you say it's in good condition and are willing to get rid of them, I'll happily take them off your hands."

"Excellent. Boys!" Harry catches Jared and Paul's attention. "Go back to my house and have Leah show you to the storage. She'll know what couch and recliner we want to get rid of."

"You got it, Harry."

Jared nods at Harry to let him know he's on it and Paul spares you one last lingering leer which prompts you to laugh and shake your head at him. Then turning to Sue, you ask, "So what do I owe you?"

But Sue is quick to wave you off. "Don't worry about it. Consider this as our house warming present. And," she's quick to cut you off when you open your mouth to retort, "if you feel like you owe us something, then all I ask is that you stop by the health clinic once you're truly settled in. You have a very healing nature about you and I'm sure you'd be a great help to our little community."

Catching her drift, you can't help but chuckle. "Sure thing, Sue."

With nothing else to be said, Harry and Sue help you unload the bed frame and carry it into your house and into the appropriate room. Fortunately Harry has a bag of tools in his truck and instructs you what screws go where since you were more capable of getting down on the floor than he was. Paul and Jared get back right before you finish putting together the frame, so Sue walks out to go instruct them to bring the furniture in.

Afterwards, as you and Harry join everyone in the living room, you smile kindly around at the occupants. "Boys, thanks for bringing the heavy stuff in."

"Don't even worry about it," Jared says. "If Sue and Harry are already this attached, I have a feeling you're good people."

Before Paul can comment, there's a bone chilling howl ripping through the air. It's not too close to the house, but it doesn't stop the boys from awkwardly chuckling afterwards and assuring you the wolves around the reservation are completely harmless. You keep a faint smile in place, nodding along, and force down your amusement at their hasty retreat.

Turning to Sue and Harry, you laugh. "They don't have a subtle bone in their body."

"No they do not," she muses.

A comfortable silence follows the three of you out onto the porch, watching as Paul and Jared drive away in a hurry. Seconds pass before Harry makes it clear they should get going too.

As you follow them to their truck, you say, "Thanks again for the furniture. If I head out now I can probably find a box spring and mattress, and actually sleep in my own house tonight."

Sue smiles. "I'm glad we could be of some help. If you need anything," she then reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small white card, "here's my number. Don't hesitate to call."

You take the card and glance at the number before pocketing it. "I won't. Thank you."

The married couple climb into the truck and as soon as they're settled and the engine rumbles to life, Harry leans out his window. "Don't take too long to let the boys in on your secret. I have a feeling you'll be seeing them more often than not now that two of them know where you live."

"How many are there?"

"Three as of right now," Harry says, "but we're keeping an eye on a few others."

"This pack keeps growing and the vampires will be too scared to step anywhere near La Push."

Harry chuckles. "That's fine by me."

With nothing else to be said and the Clearwater's wanting you to get everything you need before the stores shut down, they bid you farewell and take their leave. Then after making sure you shut all the windows to your house and lock up, you hop in your truck and drive to the city in hopes of getting a box spring and mattress to fit your new bed.

Over the next few days, you get settled in and you've never felt more at peace. Even your magic seems to meshing better than ever within you and your coven back home couldn't have been more happier for you.

You've kept your promise to Sue, mixing concoctions that were easily added into lotions for aching joints and grinding powered mixtures that could be added to water that acted as a mild pain reliever. The reservation's clinic was mostly used by the elderly and you were glad you could offer them relief for their aching bones.

You've also run into Paul and Jared a handful of times, mostly at the grocery store and once when you had gone to the beach for the day. They had been leaving when you were just getting there and Paul had introduced you to his new girlfriend, but the way he couldn't take his eyes off her let you know it was something so much more. Jared kept trying to introduce you to his other friend, but apparently you and this so-called Sam just kept missing each other.

And it isn't until one drizzly day that you finally meet him.

You sleep in a little later than usual, the overcast sky and drizzling rain keeping you in a sleepy state. Then when you feel like you've laid in long enough, you get up and take the warmest shower you can before dressing cozy and curling up on your couch. Nothing on TV seems to catch your attention, so you turn it off and head into your kitchen. You're not particularly hungry, but you find yourself wanting to make something. So opening up your pantry, you find that you have all the ingredients you need to bake to your heart's content.

With your hair twisted up into a bun and the sleeves of your sweater pushed up to your elbows, you're mixing together the second batch of muffins as the first batch cools next to a peach cobbler. You've been in the baking zone, listening to the distant rumbling thunder, that when there's knocking on your front door it startles you into letting loose a yelp.

There's a bark of laughter before you hear the door creaking open and Paul and Jared walk in, both shirtless and in cut-off jean shorts. A third walks in behind them, this one unfamiliar, but you keep your attention on the two you do know.

Huffing, you set aside the bowl and pick up a washcloth to clean off your hands as you walk around the kitchen counter. "If you catch a cold, I am not helping you. Only idiots would run around barefoot in this type of weather we're having right now."

"Oooh, those muffins free game?" Jared asks, completely ignoring your words and walking around you. "I'm starving."

"Do I smell peach cobbler?" Paul then wonders, doing the same as his friend.

"Hey!" The third individual barks, Paul and Jared freezing at his tone. "Manners."

You smirk as the boys shift nervously and then look towards the still unknown man. "Thank you. You, my well mannered friend, are more than welcome to the snacks. I'm Y/N, by the way."

As he meets your gaze, his small smile falters. His eyes seem to subtly widen, his expression goes lax, and there's an instant connection with this man- a sense of warmth and comfort rushing through you. He feels like.. like home.

You blink and then.. oh. You know exactly what this is and while a little part of you is nervous because you hadn't planned to tell anyone other than the tribal elders what you were, you're also kind of excited.

"Sam?" Paul wonders, he and Jared snickering.

The second you break eye contact with him, he seems to come back to himself. Clearing his throat, he nods at you. "Sam. I'm Sam Uley." He then glares at the boys before sheepishly glancing at you once more.

You flash him a small smile. "Nice to finally meet you Sam Uley. Jared doesn't shut up about you."

"Hey!" The muffled response causes you to look at the boy in question and you roll your eyes fondly when you see his cheeks puffed out with the remains of a muffin he'd eaten when you weren't paying attention.

"So what brings you boys over here?" You ask as you walk back into the kitchen, whipping Jared with a small towel and shooing him towards the table.

"Just wanted to see how you were dealing with our weather," Paul says. "Now can I please have some of this cobbler? It smells really good."

"Have you eaten lunch yet? All that sweet is going to ruin your appetite."

Jared snorts as he takes a seat at the table. "Nothing can ruin our appetites. Trust me."

Paul is still eyeing the cobbler so you sigh and wave him on. "Go ahead. I'm sure you can find the plates and utensils." Then looking towards Sam, you smile. "Would you like to take a seat? There are brown sugar muffins, chocolate chip muffins and peach cobbler if you're interested."

"I, uh, yeah." He grins at you. "I'd like that."

Sam, Paul and Jared take over your kitchen table and instead of being annoyed you can't help but feel a bit of fondness for them. You're well aware of what the connection you had with Sam was and you wonder how long it'll take him to come clean to you since it's obvious all three at your table are shifters- Sam obviously being the alpha.

But putting that off for now, you walk into your kitchen and place some muffins in a bowl to take to the table. Jared is all too happy to immediately start digging in and Paul looks absolutely blissed out as he shovels bite after bite of peach cobbler into his mouth. Sam shakes his head at the two of them, but you find it all rather amusing.

Taking a muffin for himself and eating at a leisurely pace, Sam asks, "So how do you know the boys?"

"Sue and Harry introduced us when they brought over my bed," you tell him. Grabbing a few bottled waters from the refrigerator, you walk them over to the table and take a seat yourself. "Between you and me, I think the only reason Harry introduced us was because I'm a female living by myself. He wants me to have people in my corner should something ever happen."

Sam glances between you and the boys, and seeing as you're not offended he allows himself to chuckle. "Yeah. That sounds like Harry. He's good people."

"Oh for sure," you muse. "I kind of have this sense about people. I can tell who's a good and who's a bad one."

"Oh really?" Paul looks up long enough to spot the waters and take one for himself. "What do you sense about us?"

Jared freezes, Sam tenses and Paul smirks as he takes a gulp of his water. You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest, and smirk. "Honestly? I get a sense you and Jared are going to be giant pains in my ass."

Jared laughs, but Paul continues to smugly hold your gaze. "And what about Sam?"

Your gaze slides over to Sam who looks equal parts ready to strangle Paul and wondering what your answer is going to be. Eyes twinkling, you say, "That's to be determined."

Now that you'd officially met Sam and he imprinted on you- though you weren't supposed to know that- it seemed like he was everywhere. You run into him at the grocery store, at the local health clinic, and at the beach. And then sometimes all three of them would show up on your porch to check up on you, but mostly to raid your kitchen.

Usually when you run into them you run into all three, so as you're sitting on the beach and just soaking in the peace, you're surprised to see Sam approaching all on his lonesome.

"This seat taken?" He asks, gesturing to the empty half of the blanket you're sitting on.

You grin up at him. "Do my eyes deceive me or are you actually wearing long sleeves and jeans?"

"Ha ha," he deadpans. Toeing off his boots, Sam steps onto your blanket and sits next to you. He grins at you before looking out to the restless ocean. "So what brings you out here on this cool afternoon?"

You shrug. "Nothing really. Just felt like listening to the waves. You?"

"Same. Had some free time so I figured I'd come out here to decompress. Spotting you was just a bonus."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Uley."

Sam chuckles as he softly nudges you with his shoulder. You smile back at him, only to then look back out at the ocean. There's a moment where you and Sam just bask in the stillness of conversation before he's nudging you once more. "So tell me something, Y/N. What brought you out here to La Push?"

"I don't know if I want to tell you," you jokingly admit. "You'll think it's lame."

"No I won't. Come on, tell me."

Glancing at Sam you know you're in trouble at the sight of his small smile and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You keep his gaze, sigh with a fond roll of your eyes, and he chuckles knowing full well you've caved. "Have you ever felt like you didn't belong? That something was missing from your life and, even though you had a pretty good life, you knew there was something out in the world you were destined to find?"

"Not until recently," he replies quietly.

Sam's gaze darts all over your face before darting down to your lips and your heart skips a beat. "I, uh," you pause and awkwardly clear your throat, leaning sideways away from Sam for a moment to clear your head. "I didn't feel complete for a long time," you say. "So after finishing high school and working a few years to save up some cash, I packed all the things I couldn't live without and hopped into my truck. I drove in whatever direction felt right to me and it wasn't until I crossed into La Push territory that it felt like I could breathe properly. It was weird." Well not really now that you know why you were drawn to La Push, but you couldn't exactly tell him that. Not yet.

"That's not lame at all. That's- well I can kind of relate," he says. When you glance at Sam, his faint grin morphs into a smirk. "I'm glad you found what you were looking for here in La Push, Y/N. It seems everyone here has taken a shine to you."

"What can I say," you muse, batting your eyelashes at him, "I'm a very likable person." Sam's phone dings before he can retort and he offers you a sheepish smile as he pulls it out of his pocket. He reads whatever's on his screen and sighs, looking at you with an apology in his eyes. "Go. It's fine. We can always catch up another time. You do, after all, know where I live."

Sam nods and pulls his boots to himself, slipping them on his feet and lacing up. "Do you, uh, maybe want to grab something to eat sometime?"

His stammering and avoidance of your gaze makes you smile. You hum, drawing out your answer before saying, "Like one on one or a group thing?"

He shrugs. "More like a date thing."

"Sam Uley," you chuckle. "Asking me on a date and breaking hearts all across the Rez. Who would've guessed.." When he's finally brave enough to meet your gaze, you smile. "It's a date, Sam. Just let me know when and where."

A date with Sam consisted of dinner at an Italian restaurant in Port Angeles. You had figured it'd be as awkward as first dates normally were, but from the moment he picked you up to the moment he dropped you off at your front porch and warmly pressed a kiss to your cheek, it was as if you and Sam had been doing this for ages. The conversation had flowed easily with quiet laughter here and there, and then you went for a walk around Port Angeles before deciding to call it a night.

The boys, when they took notice of you greeting Sam with a kiss to the cheek, took great pleasure in teasing the two of you. You could tell Sam was wary about it upsetting you, but you merely withheld food from the boys and they were quick to cut it out.

Sam slowly started to show up more often on his own, the casual touches turning into lingering touches, and it wasn't long until those on the Rez realized Sam was no longer on the market. Which was something Sue Clearwater was clearly ecstatic for, but it also led her to constantly nag you into telling Sam your secret since he was clearly struggling with admitting his own.

You've just gotten home from the grocery store, unloading the groceries when Sam pulls up.

Pausing in hauling the bags inside, you wait for Sam. He hops out of his own truck, grinning when he catches sight of you. "Hey, handsome. What are you doing?"

"Missed you." He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth and you pout when he pulls away. He chuckles and takes the bags from your arms, grabbing another three from the backseat. "You have a good day?"

"It was decent." You shut the door to your truck, walking side by side with Sam up to your front door. Unlocking it, you push it open and let Sam walk in first. "I visited with Sue for a bit at the clinic and took the patients some goodies. What about you?"

"Decent. Got started on a table and chairs this couple want for their kitchen. Made good progress on it without Jared bugging me and Paul."

You laugh at the slight annoyance in Sam's features when he talks about Jared bugging him, but you know deep down that Sam would do anything for both Jared and Paul. He was just lucky right now since Jared was in his last year of high school and he had school five days out of the week which left Sam and Paul enough time to work without being pestered.

With Sam helping you, all the groceries are put away within a couple of minutes. You sigh with exhaustion, but a smile stays on your face because of the company you have. Sam walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you in against his chest. You sigh again, this time in contentment, and wrap your arms around his waist.

"Wanna take a nap?"

"Oh god," you groan. "Yes please."

Sam chuckles as you drag him to the living room, the sofa big enough to comfortably nap on. You both kick your shoes off and you impatiently wait for Sam to lay down and get comfortable before you lay down in front of him. With your back against his chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist so you don't fall off, you close your eyes and listen to Sam's breathing to lull you to sleep.

Minutes pass and then, "Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"I, uh, I need to tell you something."

Your eyes fly open. Is this it? Is this when he tells me he's a shifter? "Okay.."

"But I can't tell you until after the bonfire which I'm hoping you'll attend with me tonight."

Oh. "A bonfire sounds nice," you admit. "But whatever you have to tell me isn't bad, is it? Because now I'm going to be worried about it for the rest of the day."

Sam's laughter rumbles from behind you. "Nah. You have nothing to worry about. Get some rest, sweetheart. We deserve it."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

You and Sam fall asleep longer than you had anticipated, and it takes Paul barging into your house and startling you awake to realize how much time has passed. You remain grumpy and half asleep the entire time Sam tells you about the appropriate clothing for the beach bonfire, which Paul finds absolutely hilarious, and he only shut ups about it when you threaten to make him walk back to the beach since he had apparently walked to your house.

When you get to the beach, Sam takes your hand in his and you smile at him before he leads you to where there's already a roaring fire dancing under the night sky. There's a small group gathered around, but the ones who stick out to you the most are the tribal elders who appear as if they're holding court. Sam sits you on a log close to the fire before asking if you want anything and at your furrowed brow he gestures to the table of food that's dwindling down by the minute.

As you tell Sam you only want a hot drink, he leaves you be and you watch as everyone mingles. From across the fire Harry gives you a nod in greeting and you nod back. Your eyes are drawn to Paul who is wrapped around his girlfriend and you can't help but smile at how smitten he is with her. Jared is tossing chips at some young boy, the two of them running around as another unknown female watches them with fond exasperation.

All too soon Sam is taking a seat next to you, thigh to thigh, as his left arm goes around your shoulders after handing you a steaming cup of hot chocolate. You smile at him before snuggling into his warmth and blowing on your drink. Then when everyone settles down and Harry starts talking, you realize he's telling the legends about the Quileute Spirit Warriors.

You've heard the legends about the spirit warriors and cold ones, but never in such great detail and you're absolutely enthralled.

Afterwards, after being introduced to several more people and Sam dropping you back off at home, he walks you up to the porch. His hands are tucked deep into his pockets and he sighs, and you can just tell something is on his mind.

Grinning, you grab him by his belt loops and pull him closer to you. "What's wrong? I could hear you thinking on the drive here."

"Nothing." He automatically shakes his head. You raise an eyebrow at him and he exhales quietly. "I just- I'm curious as to what you thought about the bonfire. Only certain people have the special privilege of attending and I-"

"I loved it." You're quick to assure him. 'And I'm honored I was able to sit in."

"You didn't think it was odd? People turning into giant wolves and cold ones draining people."

You shake your head, smiling fondly. "Sam, I love learning about other cultures and their legends. Honestly, I had an amazing time." His shoulders sag in relief and you chuckle. "So do you want to tell me what else is on your mind?"

He shakes his head. "Maybe another time." His hands reach up to cradle your face and he brings you in to press a kiss to your forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

As the weeks pass, your happiness with Sam starts to dwindle under the pressure of his secret. For some reason, coming out and telling you all that you heard at the bonfire was true was harder than he had imagined. Of course you could have told him your secret to ease him into telling you his, but you were holding back as well.

Sue and Harry have had enough, however, after Sam snaps at Paul and Jared and starts straining the bond between the three of them. So sitting outside of your house, you wait for Sam to show up. If he won't tell you he's alpha of the Quileute pack, then you'll tell him your own secret and see what happens then.

Sam shows up on time and as he exits his truck, you stand up and walk towards the edge of the porch. He smiles in greeting, but you can see the strain behind it and you sigh. Immediately you wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his chest.

"Come inside with me. I need to show you something."

"Uh oh. Should I be worried?" He says.

"Not at all." You pull back from him, pecking his lips. "But I am worried about how you're going to take it."

Sam's small smile falters, but you don't have any reassuring words for him. Now that it's out in the open about you having a secret too, you can see why Sam held back. It's scary. But it's out there now and there's no way in hell you're going to back out. So grabbing hold of one of Sam's hands, you turn around to lead him inside.

You lead Sam into your bedroom and gesture for him to take a seat on one side of your bed while you sit across from him. With one leg hanging off the side of the bed and your other curled inward, you grab one of your pillows and strip the cover off of it. "Can you rip it open?"

Sam huffs. "What? You want me to rip apart your pillow?"

"Yeah. I just- the feathers," you mutter. "Trust me." He stares at you a moment longer before grabbing your pillow and ripping the top sheet layer of it. You grin and reach in, scooping out a handful of the white and gray feathers. "So, um, please don't hate me."

"Hate you? I can never hate you, Y/N."

"You say that now, but-" Heart pounding, you lay the feathers down down on the bed right in front of your leg. Your hands tremble, but you're quick to shake it out and take a breath. Your smile wobbles as you briefly meet Sam's gaze and then you hold your hands just above the feathers. Concentrating deeply on them, you slowly lift your hands and the feathers slowly follow. You hear Sam sharply inhale as the feathers levitate and then start to twirl in a circular motion. "So, um, I'm a witch," you admit. "And to make things easier for you, I already know the secret you've been struggling to tell me."

"H-How?"

Your hands drop and you finally meet Sam's astonished gaze. "My coven's grimoire. It's filled with all sorts of knowledge of every supernatural creature out there and, though the passage on the spirit warriors of the Quileute tribe wasn't as detailed as what Harry said around the bonfire, it was enough to clue me in on what you, Paul, and Jared were the second I laid eyes on you. Well that and the fact the tribal elders told me when I asked their permission to live on the Rez."

Sam huffs and then does the unexpected. He reaches across your gutted pillow and tugs on your arm until you're crawling over and onto his lap. He holds you tight, chuckling quietly, and shoves his face into the side of your neck. You hesitantly wrap your arms back around him, sighing in relief. "You really should have told me sooner. It's been killing me not telling you about us."

"Yeah, well it's going to get a whole lot easier." He pulls back then, staring at you warily. "I know about the imprint thing too."

Sam's eyes widen. "You do?"

"Yep. Witches don't necessarily have mates, but we do have a sense of things. Since I came into my magic, there had always been a part of me that was searching for something."

"Yeah. Yeah I remember you mentioning that," Sam says.

"Well that something was you." The confession makes you nervously shift in his lap. "Whatever it was, it led me here to La Push. And then I saw you and.. I don't know. You felt like comfort. And home. And I knew-"

Sam cuts you off, grasping your chin between his fingers and facing you towards him. His lips press against yours and it takes a moment for your mind to be brought up to speed as to what's going on. When it does, you gasp and Sam smiles against your lips.

"Don't laugh at me," you mumble. "You caught me off guard."

Sam chuckles, his smile wide and eyes crinkling at the corners. It's one of his more genuine smiles and it feels like this huge weight has been lifted off your chest. "So the alpha and his witch," he muses. "The boys are going to be in for a shock."

"I was thinking more along the lines of the witch and her companion, but the alpha and the witch works too." You lean in and press your lips to his, once, twice, and then one more time. "And can we hold off on telling the boys? I kind of want to shock them with the reveal."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. We'll go at your pace."

"My pace, huh? I like the sound of that."

[demons-main-hell]

It's got like 7 rooms and a hallway, it's p small

I sweep and mop on the 5 laminate floors and hoover the carpet on the rest

I bleach the toilets and clean over the sides n that in the bathrooms too

And then there's odd jobs i won't do every single day but spread out over the week like dusting, polishing, going over the reception counter, the kitchen counter, etc. Just little things that don't really need doing every day but should get done every so often

Sometimes most of my time is made up of waiting for everyone else to finish in one of the rooms so I can start sweeping there

Oooh pog friends :DD

I'm a janitor by myself lmAo no coworkers, really, except my boss sat in her office

I arrive when everyone else leaves

Did i ever tell you that by the way??? I got. A job. I'm a janitor

Not the one i interviewed for first though that guy was mean to me too 😔

Oh screw him for being a jerk!

I'm happy for you, Demon! :D how are you liking it so far? Does it pay decently at all?

Is your boss nice to you?

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Sparkle

Here's a little ficlet I wrote based on a random scene that popped into my head and wouldn't leave. Unbeta’ed.

Tags: implied/attempted noncon, alcohol consumption, eighth year fic. Pairing: Draco/Harry

-------

Draco Malfoy came back to Hogwarts after the War.

He was quiet and was nearly always seen in the company of his books. He talked to people, but not unless they addressed him first. He was always in plain sight, and always seemed to be in the middle of the most banal, tedious tasks, and Harry had no reason to be suspicious.

But Harry watched him anyway.

How was he to help it? Malfoy didn't look anything like the Malfoy he was used to warching.

Yes, he was still deathly pale and tall and reed-thin - but he held himself differently now. He didn't swagger around like he owned the school, but still had an air of aristocratic grace about him that made people hurry out of his way.

He didn't wear his hair combed to slick perfection; he had it buzzed down to the scalp on one side, the rest of his sleek, platinum hair pulled over to the other side in an artfully tousled sweep that sometimes fell over his eyes and caught on his long lashes.

He didn't wear his shirt sleeves down to his wrists to hide the Mark. Instead he had them rolled up to his elbows to reveal the pretty little pink and orange blossoms he had tattooed over the ugly, faded skull and snake.

He always had nail paint on - black, green, ruby red, purple.

He wore eyeliner, stark black against the paper-white skin of his translucent eyelids and blond eyelashes.

During the weekends, he wore soft jumpers over crisp white shirts, often in pastel shades that made him appear delicate and almost ethereal.

Draco Malfoy came back to Hogwarts after the War and Harry was obsessed all over again.

*

It was Christmas in a week. The eighth year common room was in full tumult, the Wireless charmed to blare music loud enough to be heard clearly over the cacophony of dozens of chattering students. Decorated extravagantly by the elves, two tables groaning under food and drink (spiked with an indecent amount of alcohol), and housing every eighth year, over half of the seventh years and a few bold sixth years, the room threatened to burst at the seams.

Harry was pleasantly tipsy, which was very mild compared to the state of some of his classmates. At least he wasn't trying to climb up into the mantel to attempt to jump off of it and land on an overstuffed armchair that was twelve feet away.

He really had to pee, though, and both the toilets attached to the common room were occupied, and when he went up to the dorm bathrooms, he found those occupied too - as well as issuing sounds made by the students inside engaged in various kinds of 'activities'.

Bladder uncomfortably full, Harry jogged back down to the common room and, with a wave at Ron and Hermione, exited the party so he could use one of the school loos. His mind was buzzing very softly and he wasn't worried about homework or, you know, dying, for the first time in a while.

Sighing in relief after having taken a long piss, Harry strolled slowly back towards the common room. It was well past midnight and he knew the seventh and sixth years would be in trouble if caught at the party. He also knew that every teacher was likely aware and chose to let it go. It'd been that way this term after the War.

He was about to pause and take a moment to admire the snow covered grounds and Forest out the nearest window when he heard a sound from the classroom in front of him. There was a soft thud and a garbled human voice.

Frowning, he crossed the corridor and halted outside the classroom, hesitant to walk in on students who likely didn't want to be disturbed. But then he heard, clearly:

"Stop. No."

"Incarcerous."

"No, no, no, I don't want--"

But Harry had already drawn his wand and kicked open the door.

He vaguely recognised the seventh year, tall and slightly plump with a mop of sandy blond hair. He was struggling to contain the thrashing student he had bent over a desk and looked around with a jump, panting softly, when Harry burst in.

"What the f--?" the seventh year began.

"Get out," barked Harry, indicating to the door pointedly with his wand.

The seventh year stepped away and the student he'd been pinning fell to the floor with a thump, his wrists bound at the small of his back, his ankles tied together with the same gleaming, silvery rope. And then Harry started in shock, because-

"Please," panted Malfoy, writhing on the floor as he tried to free himself.

"Go," Harry said in a low, dangerous voice to the seventh year, and there must have been something in his voice or face because the student quite literally pelted out of the room. Harry heard him running all the way down the corridor.

Harry walked forward slowly. "Malfoy?"

Malfoy thrashed again, out of breath and emitting little sounds of desperation. "Pl-- Just let me go!"

Harry quickly bent down and undid the ropes with a wave of his wand. Then he helped Malfoy sit up and lean back against the desk, still panting.

His face was clammy and his eyes bloodshot, eyeliner smudged, his face abnormally pale, likely with fear.

He was also clearly very, very drunk.

Harry suddenly remembered seeing him at the party earlier, flitting back and forth to and from the table of refreshments. And then he'd disappeared altogether.

Apparently, not with his consent.

"You okay?" Harry asked, hesitantly placing a hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

"I don't want to!" Malfoy declared, jerking off his hand.

Harry immediately held both hands up and away. "Okay, absolutely, yes," he babbled. "I'm not gonna-- nobody's gonna..." He didn't know what to say so he left it unsaid.

Malfoy just sat there, still panting quietly, eyes unfocused and rolling around a bit.

"Do... Do you need to be sick? Do you...need to use the bathroom?" Harry asked after long stretch of silence. Malfoy shook his head, hair flopping into his face. There was some colour in his cheeks now, and when he reached up to messily tuck his hair behind his ear, Harry noticed he was wearing sparkly blue nail polish.

"Bed," Malfoy said suddenly, voice hoarse. Harry nodded and stood up. Malfoy looked up at him in bewilderment. "I don't want to," he repeated, slightly plaintively.

The way he looked in that moment, as though pleading for his life, helpless and incapacitated, Harry's chest tightened.

"Nobody is going to touch you," he promised in a low, steady voice. "I'm just going to see you up to your dorm room. Do you need help standing up or are you good?"

Malfoy looked up at him blankly and then looked away with a sigh, uncrossing his legs and making to stand up. "I need help," he mumbled after a beat.

Harry helped him up and then immediately stepped away. "Come on," he said softly, indicating to the door. "This way."

*

Despite having gone to bed only well after 3am after the party, Harry was up by 8. He found Ron awake with Hermione and the three of them went on a walk after breakfast. In the afternoon, Seamus invited them to a snowball fight with the others. After he'd changed out of his sopping clothes later, Harry found himself entrusted with the task of going down to the kitchens to bring up snacks for everybody.

One flight of stairs away from the Entrance Hall, Harry was stopped by a soft voice addressing him.

"Potter."

Harry turned. Sat on the nearest windowsill was Draco Malfoy.

Harry, for some reason, felt his face heat, and absurdly found himself worrying that Malfoy knew that Harry had spent all day thinking of him.

"Hey," Harry replied, nodding. "Alright?"

Malfoy nodded back, expression neutral. Suddenly, Harry wondered if Malfoy even remembered the events of the previous night.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked softly, and there was nothing threatening or malicious about the way he spoke.

"Down to the kitchen to nick food," Harry replied honestly, shoving his hands in his pockets. And then, after a moment of hesitation, "How are you...you know, how're you feeling?"

"I feel fine," said Malfoy, a small line appearing between his brows. "Any reason I wouldn't?"

Yeah, he doesn't remember, Harry decided. Then he wondered why he's talking to Harry at all.

"No," Harry said, mouth curving into a crooked smile. "Well, I guess I'd better-" He indicated to the stairs with his head.

Malfoy nodded and said nothing.

Harry was halfway down the stairs when, "Potter."

Harry turned. Malfoy stood at the top of the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"I-- I just--" Malfoy was very pink in the face. Harry thought him very pretty at that moment. "I'm really grateful for your help last night," Malfoy blurted.

Now Harry went pink. Oh, so you remember, he wants to shout hysterically.

"It was no problem, Malfoy," he said instead. "I'm glad I was there to help." Malfoy just looked blankly at him. "Hermione's always going on about consent," Harry blabbers suddenly. "And you know... You weren't... You didn't...consent."

Malfoy nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his baby blue jumper. "Well, thank you," he said after a few seconds of silently nodding.

"You're welcome."

They stared at one another. Harry was aware of the seconds stretching on and on but he couldn't look away from Malfoy's artfully styled hair and rosy cheeks and sparkly nails and carefully lined eyes.

Then with an awkward and atrociously stupid wave, Harry turned away.

"D'you want to go to Hogsmeade with me later?"

Harry turned, almost slipping off the step and tumbling down the stairs.

"What?" he spluttered at Malfoy who was now scarlet in the face.

"I... I asked if you--" Then Malfoy abruptly seemed to deflate. "Never mind, Potter. Sorry. And thanks again for last night."

Malfoy disappeared around the banister and Harry heard him climbing the stairs while he himself just stood there.

Then, as though jerked into motion by an electric shock, Harry flew back up the stairs.

"Malfoy!" he gasped as he rounded the banister. Malfoy turned, looking surprised. "I-- I'd love to," Harry said, sounding a bit winded.

"What?" Malfoy asked, tilting his head, glossy hair sliding over his eyes.

"Go to Hogsmeade with you," Harry explained. "I'll-- I'd love to go."

Malfoy went brick red but he smiled as he did so, a small, shy smile that made Harry's heart skip a beat.

"Okay," Malfoy nodded, "Six? I'll meet you in the common room," he added, pointing up the stairs with one finger.

Harry grinned. "Cool."

Malfoy grinned back. And then, just as Harry was about to go back down, "Hey, Potter?"

Harry looked back up. "Yeah?"

Malfoy, still scarlet in the face, seemed to be making a physical effort to gather courage. "You... You have my consent."

Speechless and almost faint, Harry just watched him hurry away. Consent for what, he wanted to bellow after him.

Then he decided he'd rather let Malfoy show him what later.

***

[ambientbroth]

Undiagnosed Autism Entry 1

I came across this video today

And spent the last 12 hours typing out my experiences in my notes app and staring into blank space traveling down my memories. Reading certain traits that I strongly identify with.

I know how people feel about self diagnosing but I also know I’m truly the only one that knows myself. I’m not acting a certain way if there’s no audience and I find myself doing all these traits alone by myself.

Today I realized how much I actually stim and how it’s just been over looked by everyone, including myself. I CONSTANTLY rub my feet under the covers and actually EVERYTHING is about my feet. Fuck recently I can’t shut the fuck to about them. I just discovered washing-my-feet-instead-of-my-whole-body-to-feel-good and I will bring it up anytime I can. I can’t have them outside the covers or I will have a ‘overreaction’. I hate wet surface on my feet or anything stuck to my feet, I will GAG!!! They are almost always interlocked with each other, big toe with big toe. When my feet are cold that’s all I can talk about and I can’t focus unless I can warm them up with water. I will do it 5 times if I need to. I can’t walk on hard surfaces with wet feet.. too many particles.

I also stim by doing finger dances to music and breaking out into full arm and hand choreography. If I know all the words it’s a bonus point and it must play all the way through. My partners car has a fucked up radio (stupid Ford carsFUCKAMERICANMADEANYTHING) so it skips every song after like 12 seconds or sometimes it’ll play it all the way -ITS SO UNPREDICTABLE AND IT KILLS ME INSIDE

I also Overshare a lot and I go into a lot of detail when I talk. Recently I’ve become very aware of how I talk to people. I avoid small talk as much as I can. I info dump as fast and excited and as in much detail as I can. I also try to make them as excited as me which never works on 30 year old cis men unless they are drunk (I sweep and mop a bar every morning as a ‘job’ and sometimes hang out and eat there for free :) they are like my uncles but all different races and faces) but that’s not really oversharing. I do Overshare like bathroom stuff, my digestive problems. My ex gf would call me her ��gassy girl” because when she would ask how I am that’s usually what I would start with “well I’ve been farting a lot today extra stinky” and it didn’t like hit me until she gave me that nickname, I talk about gas too much.

I ate pizza rolls and drank chocolate milk every morning for 12 years of my life… all through grade school and middle school that is what I did. I also ended my nights drinking a full 16 oz of 2% milk - every FUCKING night. I do not joke when I say this, this was every night. My grandma would speak words of concern for me and judge me and that’s when my mom started taking the milk away from me and switching up my breakfast, I did not compute well. It really fucked me up but so was eating that everyday so??? Idk probably for the best???

I have a lot more I wrote down but I thought I would share.. maybe this is a journey for me. Idk if I want to spend 2K to get a paper but also it’ll just confirm what I know about myself or not confirm it….?? I also know how long it takes for women to actually get a diagnosis, how much sweat and tears. It’s not a easy thing to do.

I wish I knew more people to talk to about this. So I share to the internet the start of something I needed very much as a child.

[softboywriting]

Hard To Love | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You’re Nathan’s personal assistant. He’s an insufferable bastard. Both of you have unchecked tension and feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? [swearing] [sexual themes/situations] [arguments] [exhibitonism - implied] [pining] [Dominant!Nathan] [Nickname use - pet name/non derogatory] [Nathan being Nathan] [nsfw - kissing, lap sitting/grinding, heavily implied masturbation!f reader] [F!reader/Nathan]

Word Count: 7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan is...well... Nathan. Insufferable, workaholic, egotistical. He is a lot to handle and doing so isn't always easy. You had a lot of breakdowns, screaming matches, some nearly coming to blows. But you didn't give up and you learned to work around him, and coax him out of moods, serve him back the same dry humor and disinterest. After finding out he had gone through four assistants, two that never made it past their first week, you knew you couldn't give up on him. There was a diamond in the rough and you were going to find it because despite all of the hard times, you care for him. He's a fucking bastard, but he's your fucking bastard.

"It's been six months." Nathan says over breakfast one morning.

You look back from where you're cleaning up the pans you used to make his vegetable omelet with soy egg substitute. His favorite. You had taken over cooking from Kyoko three months ago when she began to malfunction. You're not sure what happened, or if maybe Nathan staged the malfunction to give you more to do. You suspect the latter.

"Six months? Really?"

"Don't act like you don't count the days."

"I don't actually." You set your plate of food on the table and he reaches for one of your toasts. He has his own, well, had. He ate it already but he has egg left so he wants more toast. "I stopped months ago."

He chuckles softly. "I still don't know why you won't quit."

"Why do you want me to?"

"I don't."

"Then why do you bring it up?" You raise your eyebrows and he shoots you a look over his vitamin water. "Cat got your tongue?"

Nathan folds his hands, elbows on the table as he shakes his head. "Most people in your position, having dealt with what you have dealt with, would be itching to get as far away as possible. Surely you must be mentally unstable to stay with me, gaining some sick pleasure from our fights and shit. I almost feel bad."

He almost feels bad, as if he were to blame for nothing. Typical. "And if I am fucked up? Gonna fire me?"

"Fuck no."

You smile over your coffee. Decaf. He won't have regular in the house after he nearly went into cardiac arrest from an over abundance of caffeine. He did it to himself. Slugging back redbulls with his vodka after drinking his pre-work out mix that had far more than he needed in it. He may be a technical genius but he can be such a fucking moron.

"You like me." You tease, rubbing your barefoot on his leg under the table. "You would miss me if I left."

He snorts indignantly but does not deny your observations.

"How was the food?"

"Perfect." He sits back, foot bumping yours now, running up the side. "Don't know how you do it."

"Perfect? Wow. High praise from you." You swat his foot away with yours and he starts trying to pin it down by stepping on it. "Better than Kyoko's?"

Nathan hums. "I programmed her with cooking skills from top chefs across the internet. Technically she should be the greatest chef on the planet. So the fact that you can make me food that is better floors me."

You hook your ankle around his and he lets out a little grunt. "Cooking is an act of love. Yes you can program an AI to make things perfectly but technical skill doesn't equate to preferred taste. Come on, Nathan, you're smarter than this."

"Questioning my intelligence now?"

"Every day." You jerk your leg back as he lifts his other foot to trap it. "Cheat! You cheater! One foot only!"

Nathan lets out a boisterous laugh, head falling back, hand over his chest. "You get so worked up over that!"

You roll your eyes and stab your eggs viciously. "Fuck off Nathan."

"No need to get so mouthy."

"Mouthy." You scoff. "Rich coming from you."

He stands, catching your chin in his grasp. "I got you to break."

"You- oh God damn it." You jerk away, arm extending to shove him.

He chuckles proudly to himself. "I'll be in my lab. Find me if you need me."

"Gonna let me in today?"

"I might."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later."

____________________

Nathan could have the AI clean the house, but then you would run out of things to do. Honestly your job could be done by any one of his creations, humanoid or not. You don't actually need to be there at all, and yet Nathan keeps you around. For a man who is hell bent on privacy and secrecy surrounding his work, you have no idea how he has let others in. He laughs when he says that he had the men who built the complex killed after the fact. Surely it's a joke. You think. Though you've never asked, never dared to investigate the truth in his words. It's best you don't know.

The house doesn't need cleaning that often. Just laundry, dishes, some sweeping and mopping should you or Nathan track in mud after a hike. Most chores take a few hours out of one day a week. Your title is assistant and yet you don't actually assist him. Not in his work anyway. You feel like your title should be maid or housekeeper. It's fine, you really don't care because he pays you so generously that you would do whatever he needs you to.

"Kitten!" Nathan's voice comes from the intercom system built in the house. "Come to the lab, kitten."

You scowl at the nickname. He dubbed you Kitten your second day at the complex because he thought your wandering around perplexed by the maze like design of the house was akin to a new kitten trying to find its way in the world. You suppose there could be worse names he could call you, and there are ones that have come out in screaming matches, but kitten has stuck.

"Lab. Now. Come on."

"Fuck." You groan, tossing aside your book you were getting very into.

"I heard that."

"Of course you did." You lift your badge and scan the door to your room to head out into the hall. One of the AI walks by and you think her name is Lily. She's beautiful. Unfortunately her programming has failed and she cannot speak. "Hi Lily."

Lily raises her hand in greeting.

If she is out then that must mean Nathan has been working on her. You turn away from the AI and walk down the hall to the junction that splits left to Nathan's room and right to another hall that goes to the lab and test rooms. The lab door is open, the light blue on the access pad.

Nathan spins around in his chair. "Kitten, you've made it."

"As if I could get lost."

"I have something to show you."

"Do you? I thought you didn't want me involved in your work."

Nathan gives you a hard look. "Do you want to fucking see it or not?"

"I don't even know what it is."

He grabs a small item off his desk and brings it to you. "This is it. My newest AI."

You take the small flash drive from him and turn it over in your hands. "This is a new program?"

"Yes. My best work yet. I'm going to build her this week."

"Exciting."

"Please show some enthusiasm for fucks sake." He snatches the device from your hand. "I'm kind enough to share this with you, you could at least say thank you."

"I never asked."

Nathan slaps the flash drive down on the desk and stares at you. He is not used to being served his own cold attitude and he never will be. Since you started going toe to toe with him, he has been on top of his game. It's like you engage his mind beyond his massive ego. "You're insufferable."

"Likewise." You smile and he smiles back. The pissing match has ended. "I need to get groceries soon."

"You know what I like."

"Of course I do." You fold your arms over your chest and he averts his eyes for a moment. You know he's staring at your breasts, pushed up in the tank top you had chosen to wear while deep cleaning your bathroom earlier. "But what do you want?"

"Loaded question, kitten."

"Going that route today?"

"Maybe." He saunters towards you and catches your hair between his fingers. "I want... something sweet."

You raise your eyebrows. "You're craving sugar? Are you ill?"

He chuckles. "A little. Just in the head."

"Seriously."

"Yes I want something sweet. Get me some donuts." He puts his hands on his hips. "Get yourself something too."

"I always get myself stuff. Do you think I only buy your groceries?"

"It's my house, of course I think you buy my shit."

You reach out and touch his beard, fingertips gliding along his cheek. You don't miss the way his eyes flutter at your touch. "Do you need your beard oil? The conditioner stuff? Looks dry."

He grabs your hand and curls his fingers around yours. "Yes, I do. But don't touch it."

"Possessive today huh?" You smirk and he groans irritably deep in his throat. "You live for my touch."

"I live for you to leave me the fuck alone."

"Then fire me."

"No."

"Then suffer." You bring your other hand up and pat his opposite cheek. "Does physical affection bother you Nathan? Does touching another human bother you so mu-"

He backs you against the wall and pins your wrists. His face is only inches from yours, body pouring heat onto you. It sparks something deep inside and you feel heat pooling in between your legs. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He murmurs, grip tight on your skin.

"Don't you have some issues to work out?"

"Fuck you."

"You'd like to."

Nathan drops your wrists at that and retreats into the lab, the door closing and locking behind him. It drives him mad that you're not one of his AI that he can order around and do what he pleases with. You like to think that's why he keeps you around, to remind him that he's human and he needs someone that isn't an algorithm to keep him sane. Maybe he also let a little piece of you crave out a chunk of his icy cold heart.

You rub your wrists and look at the reddened skin. They might bruise. You straighten your clothes and head back to your room. You'll need to wear something more appropriate to the store. It's cold out these days.

_____________________

"Do you get lonely?" Nathan asks one evening over drinks in the lounge.

You put down your laptop and give him your attention. It's the first time he's spoken to you in two days since the wrist grabbing incident. "Lonely?"

"Yeah. Do you miss relationships? Hook ups?"

"Not really. I was never super social to begin with."

"Right."

"Why?"

"Just curious." He takes a long drink, emptying his tumbler. "Why do you think I want to fuck you?"

You feel your cheeks redden. The way he is staring at you makes your arousal rear its ugly head. Staring shouldn't turn you on. He hasn't done anything. "I think you're desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Yeah. You decommissioned Kyoko months ago, Lily doesn't have a vagina and yes I know this because you told me in a drunken stupor ages ago. So you haven't fucked anything or anyone in months."

"You think I need to fuck?"

You stand and walk over to him, knocking his knees open to stand between his legs. "Nathan, just fucking admit that you want me. That you keep me around because one day you'll grow a pair of balls and ask me to sleep with you."

His hands come up and grab your hips. He pulls you down and you straddle his lap, thin pajama pants hardly acting as a barrier between you and his cock in his gray sweats. "I keep you around because you piss me off." He grips your ass and you roll your hips against him. "You piss me off and make my blood boil like no one else."

"So you hate me?"

Nathan brings your head down to meet his. "I couldn't hate you if I tried."

"Then what are we doing?"

"We're having a moment." He grabs your hair and you snap at his nose with your teeth in response. "Behave."

You let out a moan as he begins kissing up your throat. "This was your plan all along."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No."

"Then I'll make you." His hand closes around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you stop talking. "Why do you have to be so in my head? Why..." He kisses your shoulder, biting the junction between it and your neck. "Why did you have to show up?"

"You hired me." You whisper and he drops his hand from your throat in favor of sliding it up your shirt. "You selected me."

He rolls his hips up against you, biting down on your skin to elicit a yelp from you. "You're damn right I did."

You grind down against his cock and he grabs your hips to still them. You let out a soft whine from the lack of pleasure and he grips harder.

"Get up."

Your heart sinks, and you stare at him in confusion. "What?"

"Get up. We're not doing this." Nathan pushes you off of his lap and you stumble to your feet.

You straighten your clothes and walk around the coffee table to grab your laptop. You can't say you didn't expect this. It was a long shot to begin with and you initiated it so you knew he would shut it down. Still, it hurts. His rejection isn't disinterest, it's personal protection. He won't let anyone that close to his heart.

"Good night, Nathan." You mutter as you head for the doors to the inner workings of the complex.

"Night, Kitten."

_____________________

It is three days before you see Nathan again. Locking himself away isn't uncommon practice. It's a Thursday when you see him out on the deck with the punching bag. You happened to catch a glance when you were preparing breakfast as you had every day. He didn't eat with you, but you still made it for him and left it under the warmer. The plate was always gone when you came back, so at least you know he is eating.

You grab a few grapefruits from the basket on the counter and start juicing them. It'll be a nice surprise for him. You grab a cup from the cupboard and tilt the juicer to dump its contents for you. It looks good, smells tart but it is not your type of juice. Fitting for a man like Nathan. Bitter, tart and sort of hard to swallow. You rub a bit of the squeezed rinde around the top of the glass and grab the sugar dish to sprinkle some around the rim. A little sweet to lessen the bite, a representation of you in this metaphor.

"Kitten, good morning." Nathan says as you approach with his juice and a towel. "What's this?"

"Grapefruit."

He raises his eyebrows. "Fresh?"

"Yep." You hand him the glass and he inspects it suspiciously. "No poison. Promise."

A smile creeps it's way across his face as he gulps it down. He takes a moment at the end to lick the sugar clean from the rim, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. It's far more sexual than you think it should be, and it was never your intent to get this response.

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." You pass him the towel and take the glass.

Nathan scrubs the towel over his face and rests it around his neck. "I'm going for a hike later."

"Okay?"

"You're going with me." He turns back to the punching bag and starts his routine back up. "Be ready at nine."

You sigh. "Alright."

_____________________

Nathan's idea of a hike and your idea of a hike vary greatly. You view a hike as wandering around the forest along trails and seeing the beauty of nature before you. Leisurely pace, breaks, maybe a snack or two and some photos for the memories. Nathan however thinks hikes are treacherous climbs up cliffs and rock jumping across rivers and streams. He goes as quick as possible as if he's trying to get somewhere and he's going to be late. It's hardly relaxing.

"Come on, why are you so slow?" Nathan barks from atop a rock some several yards ahead of you.

You're panting, legs pushed to their limit from the half an hour long uphill climb you've just endured. You have no idea how he isn't even winded.

"Fuck off Nathan!" You huff, grabbing a scrubby looking tree for support as you haul yourself up over a broken chunk of the path. A game trail, not even a proper walking path.

He laughs, his voice echoing off the cliffs surrounding you. "You can do it, Kitten! Get that little ass up here!"

You finally reach him, your lungs threatening to explode. "First of all, this isn't a hike it's a rock climbing marathon." You hold a finger up to his face threateningly. "And second, my ass isn't little."

"Oh I know." He folds his arms over his chest.

"So you stare at my ass a lot then?"

"I'm a heterosexual man. Of course I'm going to look at your ass."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks for the objectification."

"You're welcome."

"Can we take a break here? My legs are killing me."

Nathan stretches his arms up and back. "This is why I brought you with me."

"Why?"

"So you can get some exercise. Your stamina is shit."

You glance to the drop off below then back at him. "You wanna keep insulting me?"

"Facts are not insults."

"I will push you off this cliff, Nathan."

He steps away from the edge and closer to you. He doesn't say anything about it. Doesn't apologize for the comments about your stamina and needing to work out more. He reaches for your face, plucking something off of your cheek. "Eyelash."

"Make a wish."

"Wishes are for children." He flicks his finger off to the side.

"I wish my boss would get his head out of his ass." You smirk triumphantly. "Is that a child's wish?"

Nathan flicks his eyes up and down your face, eyes settling on the bite bruise peaking out from under your sweatshirt collar. You had forgotten about it until this very moment, when you realize he hadn't seen it yet. "Is that mine?"

"Of course. Who else has been biting me out here in the middle of nowhere?" You reach up to touch it and he shoves your hand away to pull the fabric aside for himself.

"No one else can touch you."

Heat blossoms in your stomach at his jealousy tinged words. Possessive Nathan really does it for you. But he isn't your boyfriend. He is your boss. "I'm not yours Nathan."

His fingertips ghost over the nearly healed bruise. "Yes you are."

"I'm not."

"Then why don't you leave?"

You shove his hand off your shoulder and he gives you one of his famed deadly glares for doing something he doesn't like. "You don't want me. So I can't be yours."

"It's not that I don't want you, I can't have you." He turns and starts walking away, resuming the hike. How very like him. He says something stupidly cryptic that only makes sense to him. Whatever. You're not here for his affection and approval. You're here to be his assistant.

____________________

"I'm out of alcohol." Nathan states plainly, looking into the cupboard that usually has a few bottles of his favorite liquors. "Where is my shit?"

You look over from the fridge and smirk to yourself. "I thought you were on a detox again."

"I'm done with it. Where..." He turns and looks at you. "You didn't buy anything."

"Nope. I was told not to."

"By who?"

"You."

He purses his lips and looks around as if thinking about when he would have ever said that to you. He looks perplexed and you feel so smug. "Since when do you ever listen to me?"

You laugh softly. This is your fault now? Following his orders and not buying alcohol? Really.

"You're my boss. I usually follow your orders."

Nathan kicks the cupboard closed lightly. "Stop that."

"Stop what? Following your instructions?"

"Stop fucking with my head." He leans on the counter and takes his glasses off to dig his palms into his eyes. "You're so fucking irritating."

"Sure am." You gather some utensils from the counter that you left to dry and begin to put them away. "I live to make you suffer."

Nathan pulls his hands from his eyes and stares at you, eyebrows furrowed. It's like you're a puzzle and he's trying to see the solution. "Sometimes I wonder."

"You're being a baby."

"Excuse me?"

You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips, mimicking his pose when he explains things to you. He doesn't fail to notice this as his eyes sweep over you in assessment and he raises his head as if challenging you. "You're only saying I'm irritating and making you suffer because you can't drink. It's been what? A week?"

"Eight days."

"A week. I'm sure you can make it another two weeks."

"You're fucking joking."

"Nope. I'm not going into town for groceries again until absolutely necessary. It's a three hour flight there and then back, remember?"

Nathan clenches the edge of the counter top with white knuckles.

"Get as pissed as you want." You lean in close and he nearly moves back. You know he won't back down from a challenge. "Maybe you'll have to face your demons sober. Maybe you'll figure your shit out."

"I didn't hire you to be my fucking therapist."

"Yet here I am."

Nathan pushes off the counter and grabs the bottle of water you set out for him before he goes off to lock himself in his lab for God knows how long. Ever since you came on to him he seems to be jumpy around you. You don't know why he won't just admit that he likes you, that he wants you. He is going to get blue balls sooner or later. Well, maybe not because he can jack off but actual sex isn't the same and you know he has a sex drive through the roof. You used to hear it at all hours of the morning before he deactivated Kyoko. You'd be lying if you said you didn't get off on it a few times.

_____________________

Days and days pass without a word from Nathan. Ten is now the most you've ever gone and after five you start to wonder if he is even in the house. Maybe he went for a walk and fell in the river. Maybe he pissed off his AI again and it finally strangled him. You would have no idea because the place is so huge and quiet for the most part. Aside from living quarters the complex is soundproofed. One would think Nathan's room beside yours would be for privacy but it's not. The freak. He wants people to hear him.

At the twelfth day mark you actually begin to worry. A twenty day sober Nathan may be a new kind of animal and you're not sure if you truly want to interact. Distance makes the heart grow fond though and while he is insufferable you do care for him and wish to see his stupid smug face. It's a risk but one you need to take.

The light on the lab door is red. Locked. You raise your key card and it buzzes, remaining red. He's denied your access to the lab. Shocker. You press the com button on the wall but it doesn't connect. He's shut that off too.

You lean your head on the cool cement wall and sigh. One more day. You'll give it one more day. If he doesn't show his face you'll get the override key card that resides in the hidden box in the bathroom. You found it ages ago, by pure accident. You've never used it and he has no idea that you even know about it. But you'll do what you have to do.

______________________

Morning of the next day you find yourself in bed, looking around the soft cream colored walls. An idea comes to mind. A dirty, dirty idea. You know Nathan has cameras in every room. He's too anal about protectng his work not to. Plus he has major trust issues.

You lean over the side of the bed and pull open the nightstand drawer. Inside is a small vibrator that you brought with you when you moved in. There's another box in there too. One that was there when you opened the drawer the first night. On the top it says "For your needs, because you're only human."

Of course you opened the box out of curiosity, Nathan had said everything in the room was for you so it wasn't snooping. In the box was a dildo, some lube and a little bullet vibrator. You had never used them, finding the gift too personal and odd. Complimentary soap? Normal. Complimentary extra blankets and pillows? Thoughtful. Complimentary sex toys? Insane. Until you got to know Nathan, you thought it was the weirdest thing ever. In fact, you forgot about the box after a while as you hadn't had the urge to get off until recently. Today however, you're going to make a show of it in hopes of getting his attention.

You dump the contents of the box on the bed and pick up the dildo, wrapping your fingers around it. It's life like, fleshy and soft but firm enough for it's intended use. It's bigger than you might usually prefer but nothing you can't handle with some extra time. And you've got nothing but time. You take a glance around the room, not seeing any obvious surveillance cameras. This may be for nothing.

You make quick work of your pajamas, toss aside the blankets and prop yourself against the headboard. You decide to keep your gaze fixed on the television, imagining it's where he is watching from. You close your eyes and let your hands start to wander, doing thier thing while your mind runs wild.

Time passes slowly as you work yourself over, adjusting to the dildo and working yourself into a heated frenzy. It would be easier if you had something to watch, some porn or something. You're not intent on making yourself come, but you will if it comes to that. You just want to put on a show to draw him out. That's what you're telling yourself anyway.

The power goes out, darkening the room and thrusting you into silence. The back up system announces its engagement and the emergency lights come up red. You sit up and lean your head back against the headboard. Great. You toss the toys aside and get up, pulling on your pajamas. You go to the door, punch in the code for manual override during power failure. Nathan is such a nerd. It's not a specific number but rather the theme to Star Wars.

The door clicks open and you go out into the hall. No one in sight, not that you really expected anyone. "Nathan!" You call out, heading for the lab door. Everything is eerie red and you don't like it. "Power is out!"

No response.

"Nathan James Bateman!" You sing song as you slide your card on the lab door. It buzzes. "I know you hear me you fuck!"

"Power restored. All systems active."

The hall turns white, back to the bright daylight simulated lighting. You lift your key card up in hopes that the system turned off his lock out coding for your card. Sure enough it turns blue and the door clicks open. Relief washes over you as you step into the darkened office where his computer is set up, notes on the wall, security feeds pulled up on two of the monitors. The door to the actual lab is open and you walk through into the bright area.

"Nate?" You call out, the nickname slipping out as your voice wavers a bit when you don't see him anywhere.

"Kitten?"

You spin around and see the man you seek emerge from a doorway. It's the server closet where the breaker box is. "Hey."

"How'd you get in here?"

"The power failure reset the lock codes."

"You can leave."

"Nathan, you haven't been out in almost two weeks. I'm starting to get worried. What are you eating? Are you sleeping?"

"I'm fine."

You give him a once over. Wrinkled clothes. Disheveled beard. Hair grown out longer than you remember, still buzzed but not so close. His skin is dull and lifeless. "You look like shit."

"What's new?"

"Oh come on. You're more vain than that. What are you doing in here anyway? Why the power failure?"

"Fuck off."

"What an original come back. I've been trying to get your attention for days. The fact that it took a power outage for me to get to you is sad." You walk up to him and touch his chest, there is a little bit of dried blood smeared on his shirt. A cut on his hand most likely. "Nathan, talk to me."

Nathan pushes away from you and goes to his design table where there are blueprints laid out for an AI.

"Nathan."

"Leave." There is no venom in his tone. If anything he sounds pleading.

You decide to make a bold move and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He stiffens, hands stilling on the table, pen falling from his fingers. "Please talk to me."

"Just go. I don't want to talk to you."

"Fine. Dinner is at six." You pause at the doorway to the office area. "Did you hear me?"

"Six."

"Good."

_____________________

Things fall back into a normal rhythm in the days following. You do your work and he does his. You eat together, go for walks, talk about his progress on the new AI. Everything seems to be back to it’s usual flow, how it always happened after big arguments or falling outs.

So while you’re sitting in the lab watching him work one day and he asks you about the dildo in the bedside table you're thrown for a loop. It’s far from his usual choice of topics and you had actually forgotten all about it. His mentioning of it brings back the memory of when you were laid out on your bed, literally masturbating to try and get his attention. Christ what a desperate move that was. Stupid.

"So have you opened it?"

"The dildo box? Yeah I've opened it." You try to remain casual as you discuss something so personal. You definitely aren’t thinking about how good it felt.

He smirks. "Used it?"

"No." A bold lie. He has no idea. He never saw you in your bedroom. At least you don't think he did. Why would he ask about it if he had? Why is he asking about it at all?

“You’re a shitty liar.” He turns around in his chair and faces you, pushing his glasses up off the end of his nose. “Did you like it?”

“I haven’t used it.”

“Do you want me to bring up the video? I will.” He stands and heads to the office. “Come on, come here.”

You slide off the table and walk behind him in your shame, cheeks hot. You knew you shouldn’t have lied. Of course he was testing you. It's Nathan for fucks sake. He gestures to his rolling chair and you take a seat while he leans over the desk and clicks around on files on the desktop. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yeah. It is.” He opens a play back window and you can see the view of your room. No surprise. You try to figure out where the hell this camera is based on the angle. It seems to be the top left corner above your closet but as far as you remember there is nothing there. “Oh, there you are.”

“Nathan.”

“No, no watch.” He points to the screen as you toss and turn on the bed. He speeds up the playback as you get into the drawer and get the box out. You deliberately clear the bed, undress, get back on the bed.

You roll your eyes, looking away from the screen and he places a hand on your head and turns it back to watch. “So? I’m masturbating. Whatever. You do it too. If I wasn’t supposed to use the damn thing why did you leave it for me?”

“Oh I don’t care that you used it.” He clicks a little audio icon beside the playback screen. “I just want to know why you lied about it.”

“I am embarrassed? I don't make a habit of talking about my-”

“Nathan.” Your voice plays back on the audio coming from the video playback and you wish you could sink into the floor and disappear. “Nathan, harder please!” Of course he has audio on the fucking cameras. Of fucking course he does because why not right? It’s his house, his research facility.

Nathan looks at you over his glasses. “You’re embarrassed about talking about masturbating or you’re embarrassed that you think of me when you do it and I found out? Actually don’t answer that because this looks deliberate.” He takes a seat on the desk, blocking the view of the monitors. “Now, are you going to lie to me again, or tell me what this is about?”

“I wanted to get your attention.”

“Well you got it honey.” He clicks a button on the keyboard and it stops the playback.

“I wanted your attention to get you out of the fucking lab. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen you and the only way I can reach you from outside is through the cameras. So I thought, maybe there is one in my room because you’re a fucking control freak. Low and behold I was right, but it didn’t work how I planned it to.” You fold your arms over your chest and he chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“Me? How is any of this funny?”

“What kind of person thinks that masturbating on camera is going to get someone’s attention? No, seriously, why wouldn’t you try flash signalling the cameras in the halls? Set up a cue card with a message? Who says I’m gonna fuck myself for my bosses attention?”

You take in a deep breath and clench your jaw. He’s right, kind of. You hate it but he is. In any other situation you never would have done this. So why did you? Why did your brain go straight to exhibitionism? Because it’s Nathan and you’ve got it bad for him and you wanted him to see you. He’s got your brain just as fucked up as he has his own.

“It was wrong, I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Nope.” He kicks his legs hanging over the desk. “I wanna know if you liked that dildo.”

“It was fine I guess.”

“Not too much?”

“Nathan, why do you fucking care?”

He hops off the desk and shakes his head as he heads into the lab. “I’m curious is all!”

“You’re a freak!”

“And yet you still like me!”

“I’m starting to wonder why.” You push up out of the chair, close the playback on the computer and leave the office. You’re covering that stupid camera and throwing that dildo in the trash chute. You should have known he’d get some weird complex out of watching you say his fucking name while plowing yourself with a toy. In a weird way it turns you on, but it also pisses you off because he won’t actually admit that he liked it. He won’t ever admit anything.

_____________________

“Can I ask you something?” You say to Nathan as he sits beside you on the couch. You’re in the lounge together, dinner long over, watching a movie as you wind down for the evening. He’s got his arm around the back of the cushions and your legs are pulled up under you, feet pressed against his thigh. You’re close, but not too close.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“Don’t be a dick for ten minutes please.”

Nathan holds his hand up in defense. “Ten minutes. Shoot.”

“Promise you won’t be a dick? For real?”

“Yes. Ask me the damn question.”

You take a deep breath, knowing what you’re about to ask is going to be rough on him. “When we were on our hikes a few weeks ago, you said it wasn’t that you don’t want me, it’s that you can’t have me. What does that mean?”

Nathan stares ahead at the movie on the tv over the fireplace. A moment passes, a moment that is too long and makes the room fill with awkward tension. You expected this.

“Gonna stay quiet for the ten minutes you aren’t going to be a dick?”

“Shut up.” He says softly, no venom in the words.

You stare at him expectantly, awaiting a better answer than just shut up. “Seriously, would you just-”

Nathan’s arm comes up from the back on the couch and his hand catches the back of your head, dragging you closer to him as he presses a kiss to your lips. Your blood boils in the best way and you chase his lips as he pulls away. “That’s all it takes to shut you up?”

“Answer my question. Ten minutes aren’t up.”

“I can’t have you because you’re going to leave. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day you’re going to leave.”

“I’m not leaving Nathan.”

He scoffs. “So if I stopped paying you to be my assistant, you would stay?”

“Yes.”

"You're fucked up." He shakes his head. "You're fucked up and it's my fault."

You stare at him at a loss for words. Did he just admit fault for something? Are you hearing this correctly? Is Nathan Bateman, tech genius and egotistical maniac admitting he has done something? Holy shit.

"I did this to you. I made you stay here and endure my mood swings and drinking and all my shit. I stockholm syndrome'd you and I didn't even realize it." He leans his head back and closes his eyes. "You don't deserve this."

"Nathan, you didn't make me stay here. I chose to stay."

"Where the fuck were you going to go? Run off into the woods for days and days until you hope to find someone? What option did you have? I trapped you here. I've kept you caged in this house like an animal."

You lay your hand over his and he grabs it, threading your fingers together. "You don't think someone could actually love you, do you?"

"What?"

"You don't think someone could fall in love with you because you're insecure. You push people away, you push me away because you think it's easier than letting yourself feel something for someone."

Nathan looks pissed but he holds his tongue.

"I'm not trapped here, you aren't twisting my arm and making me stay here against my will. I know what I signed up for, I know what I signed in those contracts. I could have told you to fuck off and shove your head up your ass months ago and taken a helicopter back into the city. I could have just run away on any one of my dozen grocery runs in the last several months. But did I?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

"I don't fucking know."

You lay the hand not held in his, on to his cheek and turn his face to make him look at you. "Because I love you, Nathan."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. You're a real son of a bitch sometimes and I want to break your nose and choke you to death every once in a while but I care. I care about you, about your work, about your life. I want to be here, I want to be a part of your life Nathan. You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."

Nathan gets up and you hold your joined hands tightly.

"Don't run away damn it!"

"I'm not! Would you let go!"

"I swear to fucking God if you lock yourself in that lab again I am going to get a battering ram."

He takes his glasses off and presses them into your palm. "Take these as collateral. I'll be right back."

You sit back on the couch and glare at his form as it disappears into the house. You clean his glasses carefully with the edge of your shirt and set them on the coffee table. He has to come back for them, he's as blind as a bat without them.

Nathan returns shortly with a small box. "I made these." He hands you the box and you open it as he puts his glasses back on. Inside are two black bands, rings.

"I don't understand."

"I made them because I know I can be difficult." He plucks one from the box. "They track the wearers vitals, change colors based on varying indicators, and they will work no matter how far apart they are."

"You made high tech mood rings."

He shoots you a glare. "I made them for you." He places the ring in his hand into your palm. "So you will know that I'm alright when I'm working long hours. I know I'm not the easiest to read and I don't have the easiest time expressing myself sometimes."

You put the ring on and it lights up a soft pink color. The moment Nathan slips his over his finger you can feel a soft steady pulse coming from the ring. "Is that your heartbeat?"

"Yeah." He holds his hand out and you can see his band is the same color pink. "I'll give you a breakdown on all the colors and functions later, but pink means the body is at ease."

"Do you love me? Just tell me, straight up no games."

"Yeah." He cups your cheek and brings you in for a kiss. "I love the shit out of you."

You break away from his kiss and press your foreheads together. "Can I ask just one more question?"

"Fire away."

"Is the dildo a mold of your dick?"

A smile spreads across his face and you already know the answer before he says it. "It is."

"You're a freak."

"And you absolutely love it."

You smile as he presses his lips to yours and pulls you over into his lap. "I guess I do."

The end

Please reblog if you read or like. Thank yo so much for reading! -A

Header by the lovey talented delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[midnightwhispers12]

So, I have this idea in my head, and I’ll never write it out into a coherent fic, but the basic outline is:

The story starts with a montage of Stiles doing his caretaker-shtick - grocery shopping, cooking healthy meals, washing dishes, cleaning up the pack’s shared spaces, planning ahead for who needs to be where at what time, making sure everyone has everything they need, doing laundry, reminding the ‘wolves to schedule themselves off when they inevitably forget what day the full moon is again, etc, etc.

But.

The thing is? Stiles hates it. He HATES it. He started doing this stuff for his dad after his mom died and his dad disappeared into the office and a bottle of Jack, but it was always an obligation of the “if I’m more useful and less trouble, maybe he’ll want to spend time with me more often” variety. Their relationship eventually got better again (mostly), but if Stiles stopped doing the household chores, they just didn’t ever seem to get done. And eventually, they’d be out of food for the second week in a row, or he’d run out of clean clothes, or bathtub would be growing the mold that aggravated Scott’s asthma again, and Stiles would give in and just take care of it. And after enough times of trying to subtly shift some of the responsibility back onto his dad, and it failing every time, he just quit trying. It was less infuriating to do just do it himself.

When he moved in with Derek, some small, unspoken part of him was hoping that things would change. And, in Derek’s defense, it’s not like he just immediately refused to do anything around the apartment. But Stiles had a long habit at that point of just doing what needed done, and not waiting for someone else to do it. So he’d pick up groceries on his way home from work or class, and it wasn’t like he was going to intentionally not get the bananas for Derek’s nasty protein shakes while he was there anyway. He’d do his own laundry, and throw Derek’s laundry in too, because there’s no need to waste water on two half-full loads.

And slowly but surely, almost without even realizing it, he was back to being responsible for ALL the household chores. It only got worse once the pack filtered back in to living in Beacon Hills full time as they finished their degrees. A pack meeting needed to happen, so who was responsible for planning it? Stiles. Who was in charge of knowing when everyone was available? Stiles. Who had to clean up when the pack showed up uninvited and left their living room and kitchen in shambles? Stiles.

It’s not like he got to just stop taking care of his dad’s house either. He didn’t do as much anymore, but he and Derek had dinner at his dad’s at least every Sunday evening. They used to bring take-out over, but after the Sheriff gained 20lbs and got chewed out by his doctor for his cholesterol levels, Stiles went back to cooking for all of them every Sunday. Which turned into bringing groceries over for the meal he intended to make, because John didn’t have what he needed in the house. Which turned into bringing over a week’s worth of groceries, because the pantry and fridge were completely bare. Which turned into meal-prepping for the next week after dinner, while his dad and Derek watched whatever ESPN was showing, because seriously, eating fast food six days a week was just beyond unhealthy. And if he wanted space to cook, he had to do the week’s worth of dishes piled up in the sink. Plus, he always wound up cleaning whatever bathroom he used if he needed the toilet while they were visiting, because... gross. At least his dad seemed to be doing his own laundry now?

It doesn’t happen all at once, of course. Things build up over time, so slowly he doesn’t notice taking on one more task, and one more, and one more. No one likes doing chores, right? But someone’s got to do them. Someone has to plan ahead for the pack. If he sees that something needs done, it’s best to just go ahead and do it and get it over with, right?

Until one day, he’s just exhausted. It doesn’t make any sense, because he slept a full 7 hours last night, work is no more stressful than normal, there’s not a murderous monster of the week trying to kill everyone, nothing is wrong - everything’s actually been going surprisingly well for a while now. But Stiles is still completely and utterly wiped. Maybe he’s coming down with a bug or something? Since it’s Saturday, he decides to just take it easy and hopefully he’ll feel better tomorrow.

Derek comes over and scratches his scalp, taking a beyond obvious sniff of him (weirdo werewolves) when he sees there’s no breakfast happening, but just kisses his head and gets himself a bowl of cereal when he doesn’t smell anything amiss. The pack comes over and someone throws together sandwiches for lunch, and then they order takeout for supper. His dad shows up after his shift is over, and really, it’s a pretty typical Saturday, other than Stiles staying on the couch most of the day, instead of being up and moving around constantly. By midnight, he still doesn’t feel sick, which is good, and his mind and body both feel a little more rested. But he’s still somehow... existentially exhausted, maybe? Or something like that anyway, he doesn’t really know. It doesn’t make any sense!

But then he gets up to go to the bathroom and refill his water bottle. He looks around, and sees the clutter around the living room - the scattered pillows and blankets, magazines and books, cups and popcorn bowls, crumbs everywhere, water rings and greasy fingerprints on every flat surface. He walks into the kitchen and sees the sink completely full of dishes, the countertops piled with empty takeout boxes and trash. His foot actually sticks to the floor when he takes another step, where apparently someone spilled something and didn’t clean it up. The half-bath off the kitchen is occupied, so he shuffles toward the bedroom, and sees the laundry basket piled high; he usually does laundry on Saturday mornings, but he didn’t get to it this morning, and clearly Derek didn’t either. He finally makes it into the master bathroom, and sees Derek’s wet towels from this morning thrown on the floor.

As Stiles takes care of business on auto-pilot, he thinks about needing to go to his dad’s house tomorrow - planning what to make for the week, picking up groceries on the way there, cleaning the kitchen, cooking supper, cleaning up, making meals for the rest of the week to put in the fridge, cleaning up again, probably cleaning the bathroom.

He thinks about all the other things he’ll need to do tomorrow here at home - laundry he didn’t get done today, cleaning the living room and kitchen where it was left a mess, which means dishes, trash, sweeping, mopping, and picking up all the clutter, at least. Then MORE meal planning and grocery shopping because he didn’t get that done today either. The pack decided earlier that they wanted to go to the beach next weekend, so that’ll need planned - who’s driving, where they’re going, food and drinks to buy and pack, sunscreen, towels, after-sun gel (because werewolves always say they can’t burn, but then they do, and they WHINE, it’s so ridiculous), extra clothes because someone always forgets, talc powder and wet wipes to get all the sand off before they get back in the car, umbrellas, toys to make sandcastles (and enough shovels that the giant children won’t fight over them), a volleyball for the net... so many things. And if he doesn’t plan ahead for it all, and gather everything they need, then no one will, and it’ll be a miserable trip full of grouchy ‘wolves.

The more Stiles thinks about everything that needs done, the heavier the invisible weight on him feels, and he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling more tired than he did when he woke up this morning. Derek walks into the bedroom, apparently to change out of his tight jeans and into sweatpants for the last movie of the night, but he throws his jeans down on the floor NEXT to the laundry basket, which is RIGHT THERE.....

And something snaps in Stiles. The proverbial straw has officially broken the camel’s back, and he’s just DONE. He can’t remember the last time anyone else did a chore, or cleaned up their own mess. He’s not entirely sure how everything got to this point, but he’s abruptly furious enough to make sure it doesn’t continue on this way.

Derek trails off from his last sentence, looking over at Stiles when he smells the boiling rage coming off of him, and follows after Stiles as Stiles stalks back out into the living room to glare at all the people gathered there, werewolf and human alike. One by one, the pack notices the steam coming out of Stiles’ ears, and fall silent in apprehension. Stiles is irritated and annoyed pretty frequently, but this level of anger is rare. What’s the deal?

The deal is - Stiles is on strike. They are a bunch of full grown adults, and as of right now, they’re going to have to pull on their big wolf undies and start acting like it. He is DONE acting like their parent, and he’s not going to do it anymore. If they want to eat, they’ll have to cook. If they want to eat nothing but fast food and die of a heart attack, that’s their choice to make. If they want to live in filth, so be it. If they have a miserable trip to the beach because no one planned ahead and packed the necessities, well, it sucks to be them. If they schedule themselves to work on the full moon, that’s their own problem, he’s not warning them or fixing it for them anymore. He’ll be getting a separate laundry basket for himself, and if Derek wants clean clothes, he can wash them himself.

They want to know what happened to family/pack taking care of each other? You know what, what DID happen to that? When’s the last time anyone attempted to take care of something for HIM? When’s the last time someone else saw something that needed done, and just did it? Or do they even SEE the things that need done anymore? No, because they’re too used to Stiles just taking care of it, and they don’t have to think about it. But this system has turned them all into spoiled, ungrateful brats, and he’s not enabling that anymore. He’s just not.

At first, the pack thinks Stiles is just being overly dramatic, Derek had warned them he wasn’t feeling well, after all. But over the next few weeks, they start to notice. Things just aren’t getting done. Who was responsible for this before? Oh yeah, Stiles. Why don’t they have want they need? Oh right, Stiles stopped packing for anyone but himself. It’s just little things here and there at first, but they add up quickly.

Meanwhile, Stiles has given himself permission to quit carrying the mental load for everyone, and he’s stopped trying to take care of every single little thing for a giant group of people, and he’s feeling so much more relaxed than even he expected. Yeah, it’s a little strange not cooking for Derek, but they had a long talk about it the day after Stiles exploded rage all over everyone, and Derek sees where he hasn’t held up his end. Stiles staunchly refused to do any household caretaking for the next month, and Derek agreed; they’re going to talk about it when the month is up, and decide then how they can fairly divide their responsibilities. No one else in the pack has even tried to talk to him about it, not even his dad. They did show up for Sunday dinner like usual, but when Stiles refused to cook or clean the kitchen so someone else could cook, they wound up just ordering from the local pizza place. Stiles felt a little guilty as he watched his dad eat greasy pizza, but he reminded himself over and over that his dad was a grown man who could make his own decisions.

It takes time for the pack to feel normal again, and Stiles sometimes feels a little guilty about that too, but Derek is on his side, so it’s bearable. Derek is the one that had to clean up the mess the pack left when they all stormed out the night Stiles went on strike, after all. Slowly though, one by one, the pack members come to Stiles and each one quietly apologizes for taking Stiles for granted, for not appreciating everything he did for them. Over time, they all begin to take up more responsibility for the pack, and as a result, they feel more invested in the pack too. They become less a group of people thrown together, and more a cohesive unit. Stiles does start contributing again, but he’s careful to only take on his share. And he has to take some deep breaths to not burst into tears the first time a pack member comes over with a haul of junk food for movie night, and they actually thought to bring him Reese’s cups and Twizzlers, his two favorites.

He thought life was good before, and it was. But this? This is better.

[bubbleteaa]

Destroy her heart [Miya Atsumu x Reader]

Part I | Part II | Part III

destroy her heart;; pairing: miya atsumu x reader, slight sakusa kiyoomi x reader fandom: haikyuu!! warnings: angst. cursing. swearing. suggestive themes. some nsfw.  word count: 5K

a/n: thank you so much guys! I never thought that the first part was really going to get that attention. I decided to make this as a three part-fic. Again, thank you so much! I want to clearify that my image of Atsumu it’s very different that the one that I show on this fic. He’s baby! Sorry if you have thought that I don’t like the character or that I want to gave him this “fuckboy” vibe. This is just a fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Please stay safe <3 I love you. 

Summary: He destroys your heart.

┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻❁༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅

“Who are you?” You turned slightly to find a pair of black eyes staring at the activity you were doing. You had just swept Atsumu's apartment and were mopping it. Your face was covered with a white mouth cap, your hair held in a ponytail, you had an apron and cleaning gloves.

The stranger awaited your answer, with his hands in his pockets and a mask covering his mouth.

"Uh, L/N. L/N Y/N” you replied softly before blinking a couple of times when the tall boy frowned a little “Are you looking for Tsumu?”

"You're his girlfriend?" he asked you. You shook your head "Why are you cleaning his apartment? Is he paying you to do it?" You denied again. Before you could answer, he asked you something again "What disinfectant do you use?"

“Uh, take it easy” You smiled a little behind the mask. The boy looked at you as you shook your head. “You ask a lot of questions. What is your name?"

“Sakusa” he snapped.

“Only Sakusa, huh? Okay” you agreed “I'm not his girlfriend. I clean his apartment because, apparently, he suffers from blindness, and he is not realizing that it is a disaster. And well, I also clean it better than him, so” you shrugged as you looked at him, his eyes kept inspecting your covered face “And the disinfectant I use ... well, the one I'm using now is that Tsumu had it at home, not very good. But the one I use in my apartment is the-”

“How often do you clean your apartment?” You blinked at the question.

"Uh... per week?"

"Per day" he said.

"Well... I don't clean it thoroughly every day, but I always try to sweep and mop when I get up and go to sleep. I don't like dust to accumulate”

You looked at how his eyes looked at you with a small sparkle, then averted his gaze and closed his eyes.

Sakusa moved his fingers inside his pocket, feeling strange tickles on his chest. It was strange, he hadn't met you before, he didn't know you existed until a few minutes ago. But your answers, how you cleaned, the care you had. Did it mean something? How had Ratsumu met someone who cleaned so well? Someone who knew how important hygiene was?

Unlike Atsumu, he did not join the college volleyball team immediately. He waited a semester to enter, because he wanted to survive the "fire test" of the first semester. If he did it, he would enter the volleyball team. The positive thing was that his grades were not as mediocre as in high school and he managed to survive the first period. Maybe that's why he didn't know you.

And he also didn't really know why you were cleaning Miya's apartment.

And it smelled good. It smelled good to be a bad disinfectant. He deduced that you had cleaned Atsumu's house once or twice before to know how to clean it.

“Kiyoomi” he said.

“Sorry?”

“Kiyoomi. Sakusa Kiyoomi. I will leave and return in an hour, is that enough? ” he asked you, as if he were longing for an answer “Tell Miya that I will see him in practice. See you later” he agreed before going out the door.

You smiled and nodded. You kept cleaning up thinking about what had just happened.

You thought you had made a new friend, for some reason.

"Learn from yesterday"

"This looks like a pigsty" you heard Sakusa's voice, instead of sounding upset, it sounded sad "How do you feel?" he asked, entering your room. You raised your face a little , which was previously hidden between the cushions of your bed, -the ones that still smelled of Miya Atsumu-colony , the strands of your hair h/c covered your face. You were sure it didn't look that bad, maybe there were books lying on the floor, just like your clothes, you were sure there were one or two bowls of ramen on the nightstand, but nothing more.

You wanted to answer, but your voice stagnated in your uvula. Before you could look at him again, Kiyoomi leaned in slightly so he could remove the hair that covered your forehead and your eyes. You felt the tears begin to flow almost spontaneously.

"You don't always have to answer all my questions" he clarified, before starting to carefully braid your hair "I'm going to prepare a bath for you and I'll clean your room, try to relax a little"

You started to sob, but you didn't hug him. It was enough that Kiyoomi touched your hair so lovingly and took his time to dedicate it to you.

"Sorry, Yoomi" you muttered between sobs, rubbing your wrists against your cheeks and eyes "I'm so sorry" you apologized, again. Sakusa pursed his lips a little, irritated that you were apologizing to him when you were not to blame for anything.

He didn't say anything to you as he continued to watch you keep breaking a little more in front of him. As you kept pushing the fact that you could be strong when you knew full well that you were no longer just broken, you were tearing yourself apart, inside and out.

Everything because of an idiot he thought.

Kiyoomi patted your head a few times, trying to calm you down. After a few minutes, you stopped crying. There were still a couple of sighs coming from your lips, which trembled whenever they parted. You already had a few weeks like that. Your teachers were worried about you, your classmates were worried about you, your friends, everyone.

Even Atsumu was worried about you, but he, unlike Kiyoomi, didn’t go to check on you. If you ate, if you were getting enough sleep, if you were giving a lot of thought to the whole thing.

But he have never entered your room before. He always stayed after practices, cleaned your apartment as he did with you before, prepared something for you to eat and left it at the door. You never opened immediately, you waited to hear his steps go away and you opened slightly, you took the plate, you ate and you left it exactly where he had left it before.

He cared about you, but he wasn't going to break into your personal space, not until that day. Not until after three weeks without seeing your face.

He just couldn't take it anymore.

He did not know everything that had happened, he found out from Atsumu himself.

“Oi, Miya. Where is her?”

“Where's who, Omi Omi?” He answered without looking at him, at that moment he was practicing his passes, Kiyoomi stared at him.

“Y/N”

“Ah” let out a small sigh before looking at him "Well ..., she must be in her apartment"

“Why haven't I seen her?”

“Because I made a mistake and broke her heart, I guess” he replied.

Everyone agreed that Miya did feel things for you. And everyone knew that you had feelings for Atsumu. Was that something so strong? Yes. It was so strong that you refused to accept that even being as you were, you still wanted to be with him. Even after knowing that you were only something for one night - and that everything they did together was to demonstrate something so stupid - you still wanted him.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi had not spoken either.

As he was leaving you for a few seconds, in order to prepare a bath, he thought about why he helped you in that way. Whenever he was next to you, his fingers itched, not in the sense that they were dirty, but that they sting as if they needed to be caressed. Once he tried to hold his own hand while being with you, and he realized that the feeling was not detached from him.

He wanted it to be your hand.

He wanted it to be you.

"Yoomi?" your voice got him out of his thoughts, you were on the edge of the door, your hair was still braided, he could notice now, thanks to the bathroom light, the dark bags under your eyes, your puffy eyelids, your pink nose. You were a mess. His fingers began to prick him immediately.

I want to hold you, I want to help you.

“The bath is ready. I'll go clean your room” he agreed, walking to the door, he stopped right in front of you “Call me if you need anything”

He walked to your room before you answered him.

❥•°❀°•༢

“Hey Tsumu” the Hyogo boy stopped reading your notes to turn around and smile at you. You were wearing his hoodie, your hair was held in a messy bun and your eyes seemed to close from exhaustion “Are you sure you want to sleep on the couch? You can sleep in my bed, you must be tired from practice”

“Nah, c'mere” he clicked his tongue and extended his arms towards you in a childish way “wanna cuddle right now”

“You are such a baby, I swear” even though you tried to sound annoyed, your smile didn't let you lie to him. You walked up to him and before you could sit down next to him, Atsumu had grabbed your wrist to lie down next to him, holding you tightly “Uhm, I see that someone is touch starving” you teased.

“Shut yer mouth” his voice was deep, hot breath against your ear “Why yer using my hoodie? Missed me?”

“No dumbass, I was doing the laundry and my hoodies are still wet. Plus, yours more" you paused suddenly, blushing and avoiding his gaze at all costs “yours is special I guess”

You are so cute he thought. A smiled creeped in his face as he lay on the couch and laid you on his chest. He carefully grasped the garter that held your hair and between your pouts, released the strands of your hair to caress them. Why are you so cute? He thought again, this time your hands were trying to push the setter away from your head, your eyes were shining with love and at the same time, they were drowning from sleep.

"You are cute when you yawned" he blurted out without much thought the moment you yawned again, your cheeks started turning pink from his words "You are really cute, Y/N-chan"

“Only for you, Sangwoo”

Atsumu wanted to take your face in his hands and kiss you, but he could not fall before your charms. He had fought for so long against his feelings for you, he was consenting to them, how could he not be? He always thought of you, he was almost always next to you, your apartment seemed more like their apartment.

It was as if you were a couple without really being one.

"Who the fuck is Sangwoo? Is he hot?" he laughed before pinching your cheeks.

“Maybe. But he is dead”.

"Are you trying to kill me or something?"

"Killing you with my cuteness, maybe" you pouted your lips before hiding in his hoodie. You felt his heart beating harder against you. One of your hands was playing with his dyed hair, the other one was holding his hand.

Please, please, just hold me. You wished.

Please, be this cute only for me. He wished.

❥•°❀°•༢

Memories.

In these moments, you lived on memories.

Memories of how you came to his apartment on Friday nights to watch cult movies, memories of how you went to his practices and games, memories of how he gave you his sweater and memories of when you two cooked together.

You hid your face in your hands, refreshing it with water. Immediately, you felt again as your lips began to tremble. You couldn't control it, but you were fed up. Tired of crying and not being able to control it.

You felt pathetic.

Not being with Atsumu was different, the silence was nothing compared to Atsumu's company, his tended to be overwhelming, there were always people murmuring when the boy walked by you, when he took your hand, when you sat in the cafe together and fed you with a smile. The whispers were always heard.

Now you knew why.

You forgave him, though. But you couldn't talk to him, every time you looked at his photos, memories of the night they spent together landed in your head. The way he kissed the complexion of your skin, the way his hands slid down your cheeks, the way they held your neck and hips, the words he whispered in your ear and against your skin.

Of course you couldn't look him in the eye. You had spent so much time idealizing the situation in your head, how good it would feel, how nice it was to make love with someone who corresponded your feelings, to be with Miya Atsumu.

It was a bucket of cold water that he told you later. And you needed time.

Would it hurt to see him again? Possibly. You weren't ready to do it. There were two years in which you dreamed of him, and your dreams were destroyed in minutes.

You plunged into the water, feeling how your braided hair began to moisten, feeling how your tears are drowning in the warm water.

You weren't ready to see him again.

Not in the eyes.

Not knowing what he had said that night. Not knowing what had happened between you.

You just couldn't.

❥•°❀°•༢

"Live for today"

Atsumu entered the classroom as usual, sat at his table and waited for the teacher to arrive. For the four weeks you hadn't been to class, the sit next to him remained empty. No one wanted to take your place, no one dared.

It was your place. At his side. Always by his side.

The truth was, he hadn't been with someone after he slept with you. He had done nothing more than take and stay two and even three more hours practicing. Trying to get you out of his head.

But it never worked.

When it was daytime, he thought about your smile, how good it felt to have his lips on yours, how his clothes ended up smelling of your perfume. How you were so small under him, how your eyes were filled with a different sparkle that night. He thought about your figure, your laugh, the “I love you”’s that you repeated not once, but several times while you moaned, while you kissed him.

And at night, he thought about how your tears rolled down your cheeks, he thought about how much you trembled. He thought about the damage he had done to you.

He couldn't forget it, not even with alcohol.

He hadn't spoken to many people since then either, he had had some issues, especially with his team after having sex with his libero's ex-girlfriend. It was resolved through discussion, but the tension was still there. The same with Kiyoomi.

But with Kiyoomi it was worse.

The countenance changed from that moment with the boy. You realized that Omi Omi had feelings for you.

“What?” Atsumu's voice boomed in the gym, he went back to practicing his serves while Sakusa looked at him from a distance “Do you want to stay to practice?”

“Y/N has not left her room” he said suddenly. Atsumu's eyes were fixed on the volley ball and he refused to look at the black-haired man again “She hasn't been going to school. I haven't seen her eat, I don't know if she's really eating. I don't know if she slept. I don't know how bad she is- ”

"How do you know all that?" Miya's voice sounded hoarse, different. Annoyance, anger, rage. Jealousy. Hatred. He squeezed the object in his hands. "Are you sleeping in her apartment or something?"

“I stay most of the time cleaning and doing chores. Unlike you, I care about her” he replied, moving closer to the blond “It's your fault that she is like this "

“How did you get into her apartment?” he stared at him. His gaze was dangerous.

"Spare key" he replied simply, looking him in the eye "How much are you interested? Anyway, I'm sure you haven't even taken the time to call her”

"Why the hell do you have a spare key?" his voice began to sound deeper and deeper. Atsumu dropped the ball and it bounced a few times.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Don't you-"

"Are you trying to take advantage of the situation? Are you waiting for her to open the door, wrapped in a sheet, crying, asking for your help? We both know you like Y/N. Do you think I haven't noticed how you look at her? What the hell did you think when you entered her home? Did you want to fuck her? You're a damn pig, Omi Omi. Do you think that playing with her feelings you can have her? She is mine-"

"You are the pig. You were the one who took advantage of her. You were the one who played with her feelings” the words made Atsumu stop dead in his tracks. He clenched his fists. “Yours? Y/N is not yours. She never was and I doubt that at some point she will be, not after this”

There was silence after that.

Weren't you from him?

Were you with Kiyoomi now?

Why washe  thinking about that?

He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to push the thoughts out of his head. His gaze fell for a second at the entrance and he immediately veered away.

Only to return almost to the second.

There you were. With your bag hanging from your left shoulder, your hair was loose, you had on the glasses you used to read from time to time. Atsumu stared at you. You looked at him without even noticing.

Both of their hearts stopped for a few beats.

She/He looks fine. Like nothing happened.

You lowered your gaze a bit before walking to your sit next to him. At his side. Where you belonged

The moment you sat down, you took out the notes you had written in a separate notebook, all sent by some of your colleagues, most of whom you had helped in more technical classes. You didn't even look at Atsumu for a second.

He look  immediately your hands. Then your hair, then your face in side profile.

I had missed you.

Were you always that beautiful?

Why don't you look at me?

Y/N.

Look at me.

Please.

Please Y/N.

I missed you.

I need you.

Talk to me.

“Do you want me to talk to you?” Atsumu blinked. He averted his gaze slightly before placing his cheek in the palm of his hand and resting his elbow on the bench. You took silence as his response “Hello, Atsumu”

“Why didn't you come?” he knew the answer. But he wanted to hear it with your words. He wanted you to humiliate him, to hate him, to give him a reason to beg your forgiveness. He wanted you, even out of courtesy, to answer him.

“I wasn't ready,” you replied simply, with a firm voice.

“Ready for what?”

“To treat you like always even when you broke my heart. I'm trying to fulfill what I promised you” you turned your face a little, without looking into his eyes “I'm sorry for failing you, I was missing a long time. I will try to catch up as quickly as possible”

“No” he said immediately, watching as you lightly squeezed the notebook in your hands, "No... don't worry about it, take the time you need. Uhm…” He was speechless when he looked up and observed the professor entering the auditorium.

“Thanks, Atsumu”

Why did you thank me? Thank you for breaking your heart?

You didn’t talk to him for the rest of the lecture.

Atsumu and you did not talk about what happened. You did not even approached to him in class for the next days. He was looking at you, hoping you started the conversation. Sometimes he gave you glances just to notice that your eyes were glued to the teacher at all time.

You were mad. Hurt. Broken.

And it was his fault.

Her legs were moving nervously. The last time you had properly talked, the only words that came out of his mouth were cruelty and lies. Since then, to forget his words, he drank more than usual. He went out more to the club. The hours in the practices were extended. He hit the ball with supernatural force.

He was upset. He was sad. Hewas broken.

And it was his fault.

When the class was over, he watched as you calmly took your things and got up from the desk you shared with him.

"Uh, L/N-san"

His ears focused on listening to your conversation with your Economy buddy while he kept his belongings.

“Yes?” Your voice sounded normal. It was not broken or trembling like when it broke your heart “Is something wrong?”

“We should organize ourselves to work in the workshop”

“Oh yeah!” Atsumu looked at you for a few seconds. You were smiling at him while you were looking for your cell phone in your bag “Do you have a free period? We can go to the university café”

Atsumu frowned slightly. Before the disaster, he hadn't paid attention to the guys around you. Or how they looked at you. Or how they addressed you.

Because he scared all the boys who tried to get close to you.

“No, but, we can see each other next Wednesday at the cafe after school” he smiled at you.

It was jealousy.

The boy was always quiet, but you had never complained about him. You were helping him where you could and the economics teacher had paired them that semester together. Actually, you had said that it was quite nice. It was difficult talking to him, after all, the boy was embarrassing.

He shook his head, trying not to pay attention to your conversation. Your hands landed on the desk .

“Do you want to go to the cafe?” Atsumu asked “If he couldn't, we can go together-"

To catch up. I really miss you .

“Y/N” both turned to the known voice. It was Sakusa. Atsumu furrowed his brow when he saw him enter the hall and up the stairs to where they were "Let’s go"

"Oh Yoomi" you smiled at the event "Actually, Atsumu asked me if I wanted to go to the cafe, I was about to answer him"

"I'll wait for you outside, then" Kiyoomi looked at the blonde and withdrew, at no time did he lower his mask and neither did he remove his hands from his pockets. He walked back to the door, not looking back.

Yoomi?

“Today I can't, Yoomi is going to help move some things from the apartment-"

“What?” he interrupted, opening his eyes a little “Are you going to move or something?”

"No. In fact, I am going to remodel? I need something different"

“The apartment looks good as it is” he whispered, somewhat uncomfortable. “Why would you change it?”

"Many memories, I suppose"

Oh.

That.

“Ah, okay… well, I guess you should go. You don't want Yoomi to be irritated.” He spat out the boy's name with some anger, but apparently you didn't notice it.

You smiled and nodded a little. “Yes, well. See you later, Atsumu "

“Fucking hell” he murmurs while watched you leave the room. You were leaving in front of him. I've needed to talk to you. To walk with you. To be with you.

He needed you.

But he didn't deserve you.

❥•°❀°•༢

He was drinking again.

“What do you prefer? Win a million dollars or find the love of your life?” Miya asked you while he ate the last onigiri.

“I would choose the million dollars”

“Uhm” you laughed lightly before taking a sip of your drink “And why would you choose that?” Her brown eyes looked at you curiously.

“Because money attracts people, duh” you replied before looking at him “And if he comes to me for money, then he is not the love of my life. I would know that he is the love of my life if he stays with me before and after winning the million” you shrugged your shoulders and you looked at him with a smike" As simple as that "

"You are so cheesy, did you know that?"

"I'm just honest, Tsumu~"

"I still don't understand why you don't have a boyfriend, Y/N" He avoided looking at you when he said it, his trunk-colored gaze stuck to the drink in front of him “Are the others guys blind or what?”

“Well, you scare all the guys that approach me” you didn't sound upset, to tell the truth, he could feel your smile between your answer "But I guess I'm still looking for the right one. Or knowing him. Or talking with him right now. Who knows"

Atsumu looked you in the eyes, a soft and sincere smile was adorning your face. Your eyes were fixed on his. There was a particular glow, something unusual in how you were looking at him at the time. Like you're confessing a big secret.

"So cheesy"

I missed you.

“What are you doing here?” his voice sounded agitated, you were in the frame of the door of the gym looking at him “Isn't it late?”

“That is why I am here, Tsumu. You must rest and the only way you rest is to get you out of this gym” you sighed looking at him.

"Ah" he laughed lightly before shaking his head "You care about me"

“Of course I care about you, apparently you don't care about yourself, fool” you defended yourself before frowning “Let's go, it's really late, Tsumu”

“Thank you” he said, smiling at you. “For worrying”

The taste of alcohol seemed like water to be high. It was not enough.

You were more than enough.

"Cheetos or Doritos?"

"They are both cardboard, Atsumu"

"What!?" He opened his eyes to drop the packages he was holding. You instantly burst out laughing "Really?"

"Yes Tsumu"

"Uhm ... I guess I like cardboard."

Your smile.

Your laughter.

"Can you come over, please?" He was not thinking when he called you. It was very late, and early in the morning. Your apartment and his were not far away " I need to talk to you about something"

"We can talk on the phone," you sounded sleepy.

"I... I really need you to come for a moment, please" he practically fought against his voice, he was so drunk that he didn't process his feelings well "Please, Y/N. I've missed you a lot”

You bit your lower lip before answering.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes”

❥•°❀°•༢

Why did you go?

Why?

You asked yourself the same thing over and over again while your lips were glued to Miya's hair. It was dawn when Atsumu stopped stroking your bare back 

“I love you” he murmured. Your heart was still broken “I love you more than anything in this world” he squeezed you in his arms, hiding his face in the valley of your breasts. He left wet kisses against your skin “I missed you so much, I needed you so much” his voice broke, before beginning to touch you with need, hoping you were real “Look at me, please. You haven't looked at me in weeks. I need you to look at me” your eyes trembled with fear before looking him in the eyes, Atsumu kissed your lips immediately “I'm so sorry, Y/N "

You answered the kiss, between sobs. His hands began to squeeze the flesh on your hips, before gently biting down on your lower lip. Atsumu tasted like dry vodka, you tasted like cold tea. You moaned softly when he inserted his tongue into your oral cavity and his hands found the space between your legs.

“So wet, already?” he hissed in a hoarse voice, he lowered his kisses down your neck as he bit, licked, kissed and sucked your skin s/c, wanting to leave marks for everyone to see that you belonged to him “You are drenched” he lowered his kisses to your breasts, attacking them with licks while one of his hands caressed all your femininity.

"Tsumu" you moaned, squeezing your legs a little, trapping his hand in your pussy.

"You like this, don't ya?" he kissed you again “You like having me pleasuring you? Begging you to come here? Desiring you? Loving you? Missing you?” He gently pulled your jaw, thrusting his tongue in again, without closing his eyes. You moaned in the kiss and lightly denied "You are liar"

"Hope for the future"

“Don't you dare say that what happened last night was a mistake” you said without looking at him, squeezing your hands a little “Don't you dare say it, Atsumu”

“I'm sorry Y/N”

“Don't do it”

“Do you love me, Y/N ?” You were fighting against your feelings, against the truth. Atsumu looked at you with tired, sad eyes

“That is irrelevant now.”

“I love you” you assured

“No... it was the emotions of the moment. You got confused, who would love someone like me?”

“Don't do it. Don't try to manipulate me into making me feel horrible and tell you that I love you over and over again, only to be break me again. Don't do it, Tsumu”

“You and Kiyoomi have something?” he asked, pressing against him “Do you love him?”

“He is my friend, Atsumu”

“No, he does not want to be your friend” he took your face in his hands “He wants to have you against his body, just as we are now” you blinked confused, denying “He wants everything we have. He wants to take you away from me”

“Are you listening to what you say, Atsumu?”

Of course I'm listening to myself.

I do not want to lose you.

I can not lose you.

I must not lose you.

“Of course!” he screamed, hitting the pillow next to you, you froze “And it's your fault!”

"My fault?"

You felt something strange in your chest. It was rage.

Before he could go on, you opened your mouth.

“Do you know something, Tsumu? I wish I had never met you” those words stopped him “Then, I wouldn't be here, humiliating myself. Then, there would not need to cry over you, no need to want you, no need to miss you, no need to loving you” your voice started breaking “No need for forgotten promises, for lies. No need for touch starving hugs, no need of pain and tears, no need to fucking crying until I fall asleep. No need for nothing. Nothing” you shouted, crying “Do you even realize how broken I am? How stupid do I look? How pathetic I am? ”

You were lying. You are lying.

Don't lie to me.

No.

I shouldn't destroy her heart.

But I can't help it.

That words hurted.

I don't want to hurt you.

Please.

“You are right” he whispered “I wish I wouldn't met you either. You are so pathetic, so idiotic. I wish you fucking disappear or something, vanish” He was destroying you.“Get the fuck out of here” he said, coldly “And fuck with Omi Omi if you fucking want. Trash mean to be together, right?” He was not sober. Not at all. “You should fucking disappear for the whole existence; I don't give a single fuck”he stops touching you “Just fucking leave ”

The tears didn't come out in front of him. You grabbed your clothes and started dressing yourself.

“And, Y/N” you stopped, waiting for whatever he was supposed to say “Leave and close the damn door”

And that's what you did. You close the damn door.

Your heart.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [12]

Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13

➜ Words: 2.1k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“Never stop believing, never stop dreaming, and never stop doing your best!”   There’s deafening applause, standing ovations, and you get onto your own feet, clapping your hands together. The graduates are wearing bright smiles and they throw their hats into the air simultaneously. You watch them soar, knowing one day soon that’ll be you too.   Proud parents are gathered together, taking pictures while teachers are shaking the graduates’ hands, wishing them luck for their future endeavours. In the meanwhile, you hold the bouquet of flowers to your chest, paper crinkling underneath your grip and your eyes sweep the crowd.   “Do you see him?” you ask Jungkook.   He hums, hand placed on his brows to shield the blazing sunlight away. “No….oh, there he is!”   The two of you are dressed up for the ceremony. You’re in a modest dress that church goers would approve of while Jungkook is in a suit and tie like he’s going to prom. You appreciate him being here. He didn’t need to come, but he didn’t hesitate when you asked him to.    Jungkook just gives you the moral support you need.   “Y/N? Jungkook!” Seokjin is in his navy graduation gown, rich in colour. He wears a matching coloured hat with a yellow tassel and you muse the whole grad get-up looks good on him.   “Hey. Congratulations, man.” Jungkook smiles as a form of salutation.   “C-Congratulations on graduating.” You smile as well and extend your arm.   “These are for me?” He indicates the flowers, the corners of his mouth lifted. When you nod, Jin laughs and takes them. “I love them, thank you!”   “It’s nothing. I always promised I would see you walk the stage, so I’m just following through.”   “A woman of her word.” Seokjin grins, making you release half of a scoff and half of a laugh.   “Of course I am.”   You glance at Jungkook and he takes the cue. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” The boy hitches his thumb over his shoulder, slowly walking backwards. “I haven’t gone for about an hour now and my bladder is just killing me.” He stiffly laughs, almost bumping into some old lady. “Alright then. See you later.”   You sigh at his awkwardness and turn back to Jin. “Sorry about him.”   “No, it’s alright.” Seokjin smiles softly. “So you’re finished with all your finals?”   “Yeah, they’re all done. I don’t get much of a break though. My internship starts in two weeks.”   “Oh yeah!” He recalls, eyes lighting up. “Good luck. It should be really exciting. I still remember mine.”   “Thanks. I’m actually looking forward to it.”   “Good. You’ll make great memories, trust me.”   The pair of you stare at each other and you exhale lightly. “So this is it, huh, Kim Seokjin? All done with your schooling, you lucky bastard.”   The older man grins. “It’ll be you soon.”   “I know and I might beat you as a pastry chef one day, so you better watch out.”   Laughter bubbles out of his chest and it’s melodic to the ears. “I will.”   It’s a bittersweet moment, a nostalgic one. You remember going to his high school graduation, him at yours. Now he’s moving onto a new stage of his life again and in a way, you are too.    It occurs to you how grown up you’ve both become, how you’re not so young and naive anymore. “Can you congratulate Moonbyul, Sandeul, Ken and Hani for me?”   “I will. I’ll tell them you came by. They’ll appreciate it.”   You nod, but before you bid a final farewell, Seokjin raises his arm and gently ruffles your hair. The tension dissipates with his sincere smile. “I’m glad you came, Y/N.”   “Me too,” you say with an equally earnest smile.   “How’d it go?” Jungkook asks once you’ve regrouped with him again. You found the mop of black hair in the midst of parents and graduates, somehow munching on a hot dog he bought, and getting ketchup on his black blazer.   You hum, cheeks swelled with the biggest grin. “Good.”   You’re glad you came, that you followed through with a promise made a long time ago, one you could’ve pretended to forget. But you don’t regret showing up.    You and Seokin are almost strangers now, but you’ve realized somewhere down the line that it doesn’t make your time spent together any less fond. You loved him once and loved him wholeheartedly. He allowed you to do that. Allowed you to have those feelings and experiences.   You wonder if this is what closure is. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders, that your mind has been put to ease. Like you’ve finally closed a chapter of your life.

It’s the end of the year. All of you are halfway done with your diploma, if you’re not counting the internship and only the lectures and workshops. But it’s unfathomable how fast time moves when you don’t take notice or count the seconds ticking as you sit idly by.    Your first year is over — and you can still remember coming to this institution months ago wide-eyed and nervous. It wasn’t that long ago, but you can also see the light at the end of the tunnel, the end coming near. A lot has happened and a lot still needs to occur.   “Your internships are starting on the fourth?! Lucky, you guys get like a whole week break,” Taehyung grumbles, pouting. “I haven’t even finished packing and I’m leaving tomorrow.”   “You’re going to a catering company, right?”   “Yeah.” Taehyung perks up with a smile. “I might be starting sooner, but on the bright side, at least I’m not making wedding cakes.”   “Why does everyone hate wedding cakes so much?” You take offence, defending your internship that you’re actually excited for.   “Maybe because it’s probably one of the hardest things you could make. Wedding cakes are humongous. It’s laborious and takes days to make. There’s a reason why they’re so expensive.” Yoongi leans back as he’s proving his point. “Plus have you ever worked with bridezillas before who want everything perfect? There are Karens galore. I’m not eager to work at a restaurant, but it’s still easier than a wedding cake company.”   “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” You have yet to learn how to actually make a wedding cake, but how hard can it be? At the end of the day, it’s just a bigger cake for a fancier occasion. You look over to Jungkook. “Right?”   But he doesn’t look you in the eye.   He mutters incoherently and when you roughly nudge him, he sighs. “I can’t say I’m….excited.”   “Didn’t you want to go somewhere that works with chocolate?” Hoseok asks, his own internship at the Marriott hotel. It’s a sweet gig and apparently close to where Aeri will also be working for her own cooking fellowship.   “Yeah.” Jungkook sighs again, running a hand through his black locks, picking up the habit of Jimin. Said man is already gone, left yesterday for a pastry shop in the city next door — a cute place he told you about called Bread & Butter. “But apparently the man who runs the place with his wife is a chocolatier.”   “It’s not about the place, it’s about the mentor,” you chime and he remains unimpressed.   “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”   You quirk your head to the side, lashes batting. “What? Not excited to spend a whole summer with me?”   Jungkook glances at you and then diverts his eyes quickly. He gives you no answer.   You click your tongue in annoyance. At least Taehyung can appreciate it, openly wishing he was working with someone that he knew.   Jungkook is probably the biggest reason why you aren’t afraid or anxious. You know you have each other’s backs, that you’ll learn together, and there’s no way he can be better at cakes than you are.   The man might be good at his chocolate but his cakes are dry.   //   “Try not to rip each other’s heads off,” Hoseok says moments before getting on the bus, duffle bag in hand. He’s the last one to go.   “Nah.” Jungkook throws his arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards his chest. “I still need someone to take the blame when things go wrong.”   “Excuse me?!” You turn to him and he laughs boyishly, making you pout.   Hoseok grins, bidding his last farewells before he gets on the bus and waves goodbye as the vehicle takes off down the road.   It’s sad to see all your friends going to different places, to forge their own separate ways. But you know goodbyes are inevitable and that it won’t be long till their return. You’re just glad that right now Jungkook is with you.   Campus empties out in the days that follow. Only you and Jungkook are staying in your dorm rooms over the summer. Hoseok is getting accommodation at the hotel he’s working for, Jimin is staying at a boarding house during the duration of his internship, and the rest going home where it’ll be more convenient for them.   It’s eerie to see the paths so empty, the dining center closed down, and the corridors void of people and noisy conversation. It’s apocalyptic. A ghost town.   There’s no one around but the pair of you.   “Are you ready?” you ask, breaking the silence. You spin around on your heel with a smile to face him, attempting to bring up the somber mood.   You don’t realize the small action has such a big impact.   Jungkook’s heart stutters. Your hair is flying in the breeze, the side strands brushed away behind your ear. Your eyes are glimmering as the sun sets, casting a golden hue on you that makes you glow. And you look at him so happily.    Jungkook has to resist the urge to pull you in. To kiss you.    He doesn’t know how he’s going to spend an entire summer with you and just you.   But he’s ready. “I am.”   “I’m gonna crush you, Jeon.” You laugh, not helping with his situation. Jungkook wonders what it takes to capture this moment and make it tangible. “Make the best wedding cakes anyone has ever seen.”   “You better walk the talk then.”   “Course, I will.”   Jungkook’s initial impression of you was never wrong. You’re stubborn, childish, a brat. You’re also annoying and irritating beyond belief. It’s amazing how sometimes you can just grind Jungkook’s gears without even knowing. But you’re also sensitive, sentimental, softer than he expected — and it’s what led him to have a closer view of you.    From the time you bursted into tears in the kitchen to when he called out your name to join him for lunch. Bringing you over to his friends' place and his family for the holidays. Teaching you how to temper chocolate and making truffles on Valentines for your ex. Going out on the town to be his wingwoman and having you as his partner in a competition and winning.   Those tiny moments lead him closer and closer.    Little by little.    One by one.   Without him realizing….   In these months that you’ve spent together, Jungkook has become unequivocally captivated by you.   “Y/N.”   “What?”   “I like you.”   Jungkook admits it out loud. Unabashedly. He tried to get over it, ignore it, clear his mind. He did all of it while trying to keep you by his side as his best friend, but it didn’t work. He can’t.   His feelings for you overwhelms him.   It’s a container overflowed with spillage all over the sides — he can’t repress it and doesn’t want to. He faces it head on, even if it’s reckless.   But you merely snort after a beat. “Thanks, grinch. I like me too. You’re not too, too bad, I guess.”   There’s no way you’re this obtuse. You’re not dense. Jungkook knows you well enough and he suspects you’re feigning ignorance, maybe because you’re traumatized and not willing to risk friendship again. But he presses on, not allowing you to ignore his heart on his sleeve.   “I mean it.”   “I mean it too.”   Jungkook assertively grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks, He looks you dead in the eye, going for a bold strategy with no room for escape or for you to disregard what he’s spilling out to you. He corrects himself—   “I’m in love with you.”

[marvelslut16]

I told you so

Prompt number: 11 “I told you so”

Fandom: Marvel

Paring: Steve Rogers x reader (college au)

Rating: T

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Swearing probably. Angsty. Sharon Carter kinda being a bitch. idk if it’s a warning but both Sharon and Peggy are in this, just imagine they’re cousins or something. 

A/N: I was in my feelings today and I was feeling extremely angsty so here it is. If it sucks, I’m sorry. I was pretty sad today and couldn’t snap out of it. I almost didn’t post it. 

You had met him the first day of your sophomore year of college, your alarm hadn’t gone off so you barely made it to your state and local government class at NYU. Your major currently undecided, but leaning towards political science, you have always taken an interest in politics. The only empty seat was next to an extremely attractive blonde man, with blue eyes, and who’s built like a god- no doubt a part of some fraternity. 

Through the semester you got to know this blonde Adonis; he’s a junior in the political science program, not in a fraternity but lives in an apartment with his best friend Bucky off campus, he’s on the cross country team, on the track and field team, boxes at the local YMCA at least three times a week, and takes art classes as his elective- and he’s freakishly talented at it. 

He quickly grew to be one of your best friends, you’d hang out with him and Bucky, your best friend and dormmate Natasha would join you three. You'd also go to every running meet of his, and gallery his art is shown at. You’re his biggest supporter and he’s yours, he goes to everything you do and acts like you’re the best one there.

There’s an art showcase they have at the University every year, the winner gets a scholarship for the following year, second place gets a scholarship for a semester, and third place gets a gift certificate for the school’s bookstore. Steve finally worked up the courage to submit his work, after you joined Bucky’s efforts to persuade him to enter. Steve went to you immediately after finding out that his drawing was selected for the showcase. He refused to tell you what the drawing was, saying you’d find out at said showcase. 

Steve told you to dress fancy, so you wear your finest dress. He has on his best suit, a gorgeous navy blue color. You’re practically glued to his side the entire night, and you're in shock when you come across his submission. It’s a gorgeous drawing of you leaning up against a tree in the courtyard, textbook open on your lap, and your head is thrown back laughing at something. You remember this day vividly, it was one of the first times you had done something with Steve outside of class. Granted it was still class related since you were studying for an upcoming test, but every great friendship has to start somewhere. 

It comes as no surprise when Steve wins first place that night, the colors are so vivid, and the drawing so lifelike you’re waiting for it to move. You smile fondly at Steve, not only does he deserve the scholarship for his drawing ability, but because he really needs the money. His mom has cancer and is going through treatment, so he gives her almost all of the money he makes from working. 

As soon as Steve finds out he wins, you’re wrapped up in his strong arms and he’s spinning you around. Everyone around you thinks it's an embrace of two lovers, especially once they realize you're the woman in the drawing. Although you think he made you look too perfect in it. 

After that night Bucky teases Steve relentlessly for having feelings for you and Natasha tries to get you to admit your feelings for Steve on a daily basis. It comes as a shock to both Bucky and Natasha when you get a boyfriend that isn’t Steve. Bucky resents you slightly after that because you’re hurting the man that’s practically his brother, and Natasha is upset that you obviously aren’t following your heart.  Steve becomes your confidant, you start to tell him everything that’s wrong in your relationship because you want advice. He takes it like a champ and always gives you the best advice he can for whatever problem you have that day. 

Your relationship is obviously toxic, but you think it’s just a possessive love. He doesn’t want you to Steve but you don’t let that stop you. You still show up to everything he’s a part of, and you still sit next to him in classes you purposely took together. The only difference is that Steve no longer comes to everything you do, he doesn’t randomly show up to your work to surprise you anymore, he no longer sends you cute I miss you texts when you’re too sick to show up to class with him. 

“You need to tell him,” Natasha whines, looking up from her textbook to look at you. You roll your eyes at her and some snooty student studying near you shushes her, to which she so eloquently gives him the finger. 

“Why would I do that, Nat?” the student shushes you now. You give him both fingers, to which he slams his book with a huff and storms away from yours and Nat’s table. 

“Well Bucky says-” the redhead lets out a little laugh at your interaction with the snooty student. 

“Bucky, huh?” you smirk at your best friend and send her a little wink. She doesn’t outright admit it, but you know she has feelings for the dark haired man. “You two have been spending a lot of time together recently.”

“That’s not the point,” the usually calm, collected, nothing can shake me hard ass grows red in the cheeks. A small grin appears on your face, they’re really cute together and you want the both of them to be happy. “You should tell Steve how you feel, (Y/N). You’re single again and he obviously likes you.”

“No he doesn’t,” you scoff at her to try to dull the aching pain in your chest. It hurts every time someone tells you Steve likes you, you know that’s not true and you have to try to convince yourself you’re okay with that. 

Before you can continue, a mop of dark brown locks sits beside Nat. you grin widely at the two as Bucky lazily slings his arm over the back of her chair, Natasha’s cheeks practically match her hair. 

“Hey doll, hey (Y/N/N),” Bucky greets the two of you. Your grin turns into a shit eating one at the cute interaction in front of you. “So what’re ya ladies talking about today?”

“How (Y/N) needs to finally tell Steve how she feels, especially since she’s single now,” Nat seems to recover from her blushing stupor just so she can tease you back. 

“The punk’s crazy about ya,” Buck looks at you with nothing but sincerity. “You should tell him.”

“Guys, he’s not. He’s way out of my league and he could have any woman, or man, he wants,” your heart hurts a little more watching Bucky’s arm slide off the chair and onto Nat’s shoulders. You’re never going to get that with Steve. “Sharon told me-”

“Not the Sharon thing again,” Nat whines, head quietly thumping on Bucky’s arm as she throws it back dramatically. 

“What Sharon thing?” Bucky’s crystal blue eyes flick between the two of you. 

“It’s stupid,” Nat rolls her eyes at the ceiling. 

“She told me that Steve would never like me that way, that I wasn’t good enough,” you hold up your hand to stop Bucky when you see he’s about to protest your words. “I know I’m too annoying and not pretty enough, or smart enough. I accepted it long before Sharon told me, she just reaffirmed my sentiments.”

“Sharon’s just a jealous bitch,” Bucky huffs. “She likes Steve but she knows he’s head over heels for you. Hell, Peggy likes him too and Sharon belittles her. (Y/N/N), you’ve gotta tell him how you feel.”

“He deserves to know,” Nat reaches her hand out to grab yours gently. “And you deserve to be happy.”

For some strange reason you’re fueled with confidence by their words. He deserves to know and you deserve to finally be open about your feelings. Your eyes make a quick sweep of the library as you start to stand from your seat to go find him. But your eyes lock on one thing, legs briefly giving out and you fall back to your seat with a quiet gasp. Bucky and Nat follow your line of sight, still glued to the thing that’s breaking your heart into a million pieces. Pressed up against a row of shelving is Peggy Carter, attached to her lips is Steve Rogers. Her hands are tangled in his blonde hair, based on the awkward angles it’s sticking out at, she’s tugging on the strands. His hands are gripping her hips tightly, his lower half holding her firmly between him and the stacks. 

“I told you so,” your voice cracks, but you refuse to let your tears fall in front of your friends. 

As soon as you're away from them, away from Steve, the tears start to flow. Silently at first but they quickly start to pick up. You rush into the second nearest bathroom, hoping if Nat followed you she’d only check the first one. Once in the bathroom you check to make sure all the stalls are empty, finding out they are, you lock the door to the entire bathroom. 

You press your back to the door right as your knees give out again, sliding onto the floor. You don’t care about how gross it is, all you can focus on is the burning aching feeling in your chest. Finally alone you let out a loud gut wrenching sob, you’re mind replaying the few seconds you saw of Steve and Peggy attached at the lips.

Permeant tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

[thebibliosphere]

What helps you with laundry? Especially with the time intervals, since it's such a disruptive stop and go activity. What do you do in between so you're not a day in with maybe a load done? Do you sort it in a particular way to make it easier to start?

Laundry is a hard one for me as I don’t actually have access to doing ours (stairs are not my friend and our machines are in the basement, we’re working on fixing this). We also don’t have a tumble dryer so we have to hang things to dry, which depending on the time of year, can take up to a day when you factor in humidity and temps, but we have sort of found a solution?

The system ETD and I have is that we have set days for laundry, usually on the weekends, that allow us enough time to get everything done and set us up for the week ahead.

I sort things into piles (because he hates doing that and it’s the main reason he can’t do laundry cause it’s just a step too much for his ADHD) and then he’s in charge of taking them up and down the stairs to wash and dry. A way that we think might work for him to get around this is to have a multi-bin sorting system, rather than just one giant hamper, but we haven’t been able to do that yet to test it out.

We also try to schedule a lot of our other cleaning within those intervals, because as you say, there is a lot of stopping and starting. This can, however, work really well with the “ten minute pick up” routine, where you set a timer for 10 minutes and focus on just one room.

I usually wander around with a basket and just pick up things that need to be sorted away, clearing out the general clutter of the room, which can make it much more manageable to stay of top of things and avoid the whole “visual exhaustion” factor that is so common with ADHD, and makes it really hard for us to start tasks. Having the timer also helps make the task feel tangible and achievable, rather than “an impossible task that will take all day” because time blindness is a thing and ADHD is the drama queen of making you think something is impossible because there is a lot of STUFF around you.

I also use this method for all my other chores, setting a 10-minute timer to do as many dishes as possible, 10 mins to sweep and mop the floor, 10 mins to give the bathroom a quick clean, or 10 mins to shake out the bedding and remake it.

Which again works really well with laundry, cause if you’ve got something in the wash for 30 mins, and you are physically capable of it, you can set 3 10 minute interval timers, and conceivably get 3 items on your chore list done.

There are days when I am neither physically nor mentally equipped to do these things and will absolutely just lay on the couch watching Netflix between loads of laundry (and that’s fine!) so it’s not a perfect system, but I really find taking advantage of those small-time windows can really help me focus on something small, which will contribute to my living habitat in some way.

And with that said, I’m off to set a 10-minute timer to try and do the dishes.

I hope that was helpful? Also, I really recommend Organizing Solutions for People with ADHD by Susan Pinsky, a lot of her “how-to” advice on housekeeping really revolutionized the way I think about housework, and I’m no longer struggling along attempting to have a “perfect” home according to neurotypical standards. So my house might not be as pretty as some people would like, but it’s the most organized and clean it’s ever been in all my life, and that’s worth more to me than being Pinterest/Instagram worthy!