#now i mop floors and take out the trash

[morally-grey-variant]

I promise I'm working on more parts of Love Is A Dagger! My partner just finished graduate school this week and we're moving next week and I still have to work my part-time job since my writing income is Doo Doo© compared to what it was before ãmazøn terminated my account last year, so I'm up to my eyeballs in ~stress~ and I want nothing more than to write soft and angsty and progressively more horny Loki fic but life is too much atm

[bright-and-burning]

three loads of laundry two dishwasher cycles several swiffer sheets and probably a quarter of a container of wet wipes later.

[kos-mos]

man i love the rain but i really hate how inconvenient it is for my disabled ass sometimes

[orcelito]

Living room:

Still a little cluttered, but so much FLOOR SPACE without all the many many plastic bags :D

Kitchen:

Similarly still cluttered, but the floors are clear and there's no longer a mound of bowls molding in the sink! :D

Bedroom:

.......

We can't win everything.

[skyrigel]

Simon had him and you all convinced that it was just sex and nothing more.

“No attachment.” He always said, everytime — sometimes so hurried and forgotten that it's just mumbled against your mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat.

Sometimes with so much urgency that it's lost between your moans, no attachment, babe, no attachment. And you believed him because it was really just sex, wasn't it ? There were no pretty dates and no fancy dinner at ritz, maybe those poorly wrapped ones he pretended he had not ordered and takeouts he brought along...but oh please, no attachments!

But maybe sometimes about those walks in the city where he would not so subtly grasp your hand, and you would catch him stealing glances at you while a teenager fiddled with his guitar, rhyming she came, my world lit with narcotic, I am addict.

No attachment but Simon's standing outside your workspace when it's raining —“I thought you might need it.” holding up the umbrella but those two words were there again when you were knee deep in the passanger seat and he was eating you out... because it was casual, right ? No attachment.

And it really didn't burn and ached until you got sick, real sick — puking your guts out and coughing until your ribs gave up, surely he wasn't the best role model of no attachment when he was panting to death as he picked your unconscious frame from the floor, you still remember the faint whisper of his ‘please don't leave me, please, please don't —’ over and over.

And if he wanted for no attachment then he should be gone. Gone and not come back because it was just sex...

Simon shouldn't be mopping the floor, and stirring your soup and touching your forehead every five minutes.

No attachment then why he's loading your grocery and taking out trash and doing your laundry, why he's wiping your tears and telling you it's going to be alright.

Why he's not leaving like he always did because there were no attachment right, but he's right here, tucking you in bed and washing your hair and reading you book.

“Is it some eccentric joke ? Why this Zaid is always growling ?—also when you get alright... we're gonna try it out, lovie.”

You blushed, but it wasn't just what he was suggesting but that word, it felt good.

“S-say it again.” You whispered, shifting your head in pillow. Simon turned back a page he was reading from, your scrunchie on his wrist.

“Zaid growled—” You screwed your face,“—oh, we'll try it—”

“last word. Your last word.”

“Oh.” He said, “Lovie...you don't like it ?”

You shaked your head, sniffing very unsexy-ly

“Call me that...I love it.” Simon pushed up the book up his face, his neck was pulsing with his many veins and you knew the blush that would be blooming on his hard face. Cute.

“Again.” You tilted your head, to get a look at his flushed out face.

“Okay Lovie...sleep now.” He grumbled, flicking your bedside lamp off and bookmarking the book with one of your scrunchie he removed from his wrist.

“Huh...Good night baby.” You said, waiting to be corrected, waiting for those two words to come and upside down it all.

But they never came, like they never even existed, never had a meaning to them at all.

No attachment, lost forever in darkness.

“G'night lovie.” He said so sweetly, and when you closed your eyes this time, you only saw daylight.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

living alone is all fun and games right up until the point where you have some kind of injury and still have to do chores by yourself

[noirgl0w]

cleaning up bsf!jj after he’s all bloodied and roughed up from a fight and he’s looking at you like you hung the stars bc you’re so kind to him no one’s ever this kind to him

You were studying for your exam the following week when you heard three familiar taps on the window: JJ.

You got up quickly, so much so that your legs almost failed to get out of bed and head in the direction of the window like a zombie, he had that effect on you, he was like the Pied Piper, he just attracted you.

"You shouldn't be here." You muttered, you hadn't seen him yet and the sight left you speechless. "J?"

He shook his head, stepping into your room. "I'm fine, I'm fine, jus' need a big ass sleeping session." You had to grab his arm, nearly stumbling when he put his other foot inside your room, his muddy boots staining the pretty white floor.

"What happened?" You pouted, he looked really bad, the left side of his face was purple. "Was it your dad?"

He shook his head and you understood, less talking and more action, you guided him to the bathroom and left him sitting there on the toilet lid while you snuck to your brother's room to get clean clothes for him.

"What are you doing?" He asked when he saw you coming, whispering your name. "No, I'm not going to take a shower now, I just want to sleep."

"My roof, my rules." You murmured, kissing him on the cheek. "You're going to have to dry yourself with my towel, because I don't think I have another one here right now…"

He growled, secretly loving the way yo took care of him, you looked so scared and he wondered if you knew how pretty you looked at this moment.

JJ shook his head. "The one you use to dry yourself with, naked?"

"Sorry about that." You whispered shyly, kissing his forehead. "I'll be right outside, let me know when you're done so we can take care of those wounds, yes?" You muttered, grabbing him by the chin and looking at the bruise on his face.

When he nodded you left the room, going to the kitchen to quickly grab the cleaning products mopping the floor quickly before he was done with his shower, not wanting anything to be stained with mud.

When JJ got out he oppened the door, leaning against the door frame as he looked at you, who was sitting on the floor like a puppy waiting for its owner.

"You having fun there?" He teased, helping you get up, you cursed yourself for thinking he looked good, he was only wearing some grey sweatpants of all the clothes you had gotten for him, and damn did he look good. You shouldn't think that about your injured bestfriend, but couldn't help yourself.

You sat on the sink, and he stood there looking at you.

"It was some kook." He whispered, hissing at the feeling of the alcohol-soaked cotton against his knuckles. "He ended up worse than me, just so you know it."

It made you sigh. "I don't care about how he ended up, I care about you." This made him frown. "And you are going to be sore for at least a week."

JJ looked at you, those baby blue eyes of his fixated on the way yours were shinning with worry, he didn't understand it, as if you couldn't be worried about him. Because you were good, nice, and he was, well, he was JJ Maybank.

You put everything back in the kit, and stood up from the sink, watching him with concern. "Why did you fight with a kook, Jayj?"

"He said... well he said ugly things about the pogues... about you and Kie... and you know, I wasn't going to allow it, no, that dick face couln't get away with it alright?" He sighed. "They just... they think they have the right to treat us as if we are trash, I mean, I kind of am but... You and kie? You?" JJ shook his head. "No, I don't even know how I got so lucky that I'm here and you are taking care of me, that asshole is not going to disrespect you in my face."

He looked in awe as you blushed, hugging him so tight that he could feel your heartbeat against his.

The closest he's ever had to you.

"Lets go to sleep, alright? You look tired..." You said, as if you weren't dying to share your bed with him.

And he of course happily accepted.

[wooahaes]

cake crumbles

pairing: non-idol!woozi x fem!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship au. some slight comfort.

warnings: anxious jihoon who just wants everything to go well. proposal mentions. food.

word count: 1.3k~

daisy's notes: he :( <3

“Okay. We can fix this. It’s not too late.” 

The only things holding Jihoon together right now was both Soonyoung and Vernon’s presence right now. But he hadn’t stopped staring at where your birthday cake had been dropped onto the floor, smashed into a mess of blue and white icing. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to clean up the mess in Soonyoung’s apartment. Soonyoung was on his knees now, tossing it into a bag to be disposed of properly once it was all done. It had all happened too quickly. One minute he’d been moving it to a different space on the counter, and the next he’d been lying on the floor, body aching from his slip, and the cake was destroyed. The little party he’d planned was hours away, and he’d ordered this cake specifically for you…

“I think grocery stores do plain buttercream cakes,” Vernon said, fingers covered in blue as he dropped another chunk of cake into the trash. “It’s not as special, but we can get them to write her name on it.”

“She likes those cakes,” Soonyoung nodded. “That’s what we did for my birthday last year.” 

Right, but those weren’t made for you. Jihoon had gone out of his way to slowly figure out what you’d love the most. He sighed, and moved to get paper towels to wet and clean up the remaining icing. “I don’t know. I wanted to get her something special…”

Vernon looked up. “It’s just her birthday. I know she’s special, but—”

Immediately, Soonyoung started to smack his arm. He shook his head, and Vernon slowly connected the dots.

“Oh.” Then his eyes widened. “Oh! Dude—Today?”

Jihoon quietly nodded, then stopped. “I mean—Not technically?” He sighed, leaning back. “I was going to ask her when we went home. It’ll be after midnight, so it’d be tomorrow, and—”

Vernon nodded. “Alright. Look,” he pushed himself off the floor. “I know some people. Maybe one of ‘em could help do us a favor.” 

Something inside of him seemed to crumple like tissue paper at how easily Vernon seemed to take charge right now.  That should be what he was doing. You were his girlfriend, his love, and yet he couldn’t seem to drag himself out of the spiralling thoughts that he’d fucked this all up. He knew what you would say now, though: that it was fine. That you didn’t need a birthday cake to be happy. But today needed to be perfect for you. You treated him with so much kindness, always so gentle but clear with how much you loved him. Jihoon wasn’t always the loudest with how much he loved the people in his life, but he hoped that his love was clear, too. This was supposed to be part of his big gesture, the thing that screamed to the skyline that he loved you wholeheartedly. The other part was the box still tucked away in his pants pocket, even now. He carried it with him most days, just in case he ever felt the inclination to forego his plans…

Maybe he should have. Then he wouldn’t be so stressed right now making sure everything went right. 

Vernon had already stepped away, calling someone to see what they could do on such short notice. Soonyoung, on the other hand, had helped him wipe up the remaining icing. The floor needed to be mopped soon anyway, and then the scene of the crime would be entirely taken care of. By the time it was all taken care of, Vernon already had a name and a place to go—which led to Soonyoung pushing Jihoon toward him, saying he could handle setting up the rest. 

He’d described as basic a cake as he could: vanilla, decorated with buttercream in blue and white, with maybe some flowers on it if the baker could swing it. All it needed to say was ‘Happy birthday’ and your name. The easiest thing that they could make, he would accept as long as it tasted good. With the order placed and a time given to pick it up, Jihoon stepped back out onto the street with Vernon at his heels.

“So…” He’d soon fallen into step beside him. “It’s not just about the cake, is it?”

Jihoon slowly nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. Anything to look more casual instead of the nervous storm he was inside. “If I don’t make it right… Then I’m going to feel like I failed her.”

“You could literally show up with just a thing of Oreos and she’ll love you.” Vernon looked over. “It’s fine to be nervous, but I don’t think there’s anything you could do that could upset her.” 

“I know, but…”

Vernon bumped into him, just to get his attention back on him. “You two love each other a lot, dude. It’s gonna be alright.” 

Jihoon could only hope that it would be.

Hours passed quicker than Jihoon expected them to. He and Vernon had returned to Soonyoung’s apartment and helped him set up for your little birthday party. Seungcheol had thankfully agreed to drive the cake over, careful as he could be, while Jihoon had to return home to you. He’d fed you this plan to go out for a movie and then dinner, hand hovering over his pocket. The box was right there. Maybe it’d be better for him to leave it somewhere safe here, but he felt better carrying it on him. 

“Jihoony?” You had turned from where you were putting on an earring—one of the ones he bought you last year for Christmas. There’s a playful lift to your voice, smiling at him. “Everything okay?”

He nodded, making his way over to you. “Everything’s perfect,” he said. Yet the pit in his stomach didn’t seem to shrink at all. He had hoped that saying it aloud would do something, and yet…

You fastened the earring into place, and then reached forward to cup his face. “Jihoony.” You let out a long sigh. “I know.”

“You… know?”

“One,” you said, “Cheol accidentally let the party secret slip when I asked him if he wanted to join us for dinner. And two…” You shut your eyes for a moment. “Remember the other week when you came home exhausted from work? You changed, ate dinner, and then went straight to bed…”

Oh no. Oh no. He swore he had tucked the ring box into his bag after he drove home. “So, you…”

With a soft kiss against his lips, you leaned back. Your chapstick tasted like birthday cake, all too fitting for today. “Whenever you ask, I’m going to say yes.” 

Jihoon met your eyes. “Even if it’s tonight?”

“Maybe wait until we’re alone,” you said, as if he hadn’t always planned for that. “But yes,” you giggled. “Tonight included.”

Jihoon reached for your hands, taking them into his own. The words already started to pour out of him before he could even think twice, “I dropped your birthday cake earlier. We got a replacement, but it isn’t the one I ordered for you. I hope that’s okay.” 

Instead of saying anything else, all you did was step back as you laughed. He’d fallen in love with your laugh long ago, but hearing it now he swore he was falling in love with the sound all over again. When you faced him again, you were smiling harder than before, even more radiant this time.

“As long as I get to enjoy it with you,” you said, “I’m going to be happy.” 

All at once, his anxieties disappeared. He leaned in, lips brushing against yours for just a few seconds. He knew he would kiss you properly once the two of you were home again. But for now, he’d leave you with something fleeting, just to leave both of you wanting more. “Happy birthday,” he said for the second time today, hands resting at your waist. “I love you so much.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[unfortunate17]

wilmon✨ & "I'll do anything"

here’s a little university!AU that I’ve had in my head since the S1 days haha. again, not even going to pretend this is 5 sentences.

“I’ll do anything,” Simon groans, wiping down the last of the tables as Ayub laughs unhelpfully behind him. He rolls out his shoulders, sore from a long shift of carrying plates and trays. “Seriously, man, he won’t leave me alone. Every time I turn around, he’s right behind me - like take a fucking hint.”

“Is he still sitting next to you in lecture?”

“Yes,” Simon cries, throwing up his hands in frustration. He drops into a chair, watching the rhythmic motions of Ayub sweeping the floor. “Like - the room seats two hundred and there’s barely fifteen of us here - why the fuck do you want to sit right next to me?”

Ayub snorts, “I’m telling you, Simme, he’s into you.”

Simon makes a face, “Don’t start with this shit again. Please.”

“I don’t get why you hate him so much.”

Simon looks at him in deep disbelief. “Are we forgetting the fact that he disappeared during our sociology final last year and I had to present it by myself?” Simon tips his head back, groaning at the embarrassing memory. “I had to retake that class because of him - and he didn’t even fucking apologize.”

“Sara said he had a family emergency,” Ayub points out gently, “remember?”

“Yeah right, that’s just an excuse and you know it.” Simon rolls his eyes, slumping back into the chair in exhaustion, “I’d get it if like - oh I can’t miss work today or else I’m going to get fired and then I can’t pay my rent - but come on. I saw his apartment, bro - mama and papa definitely help him out. No way he’s paying for that place on his own.”

Ayub sighs, setting the broom down and emptying the dustpan in the trash. “Bro, you complain about him all the time - just tell him to get lost.”

It’s a testament to their years of friendship that Simon doesn’t cross the room and strangle him. “So now I can’t even complain?” He snaps, the slow simmer of irritation that’s been building up throughout the dinner rush finally catching up to him.

Ayub’s expression shifts then, his eyes suddenly going wide. “Uh, Simme, you might not want to - ”

Simon gets to his feet, crumpling the rag in his hand as he stalks towards the front. “He’s a fucking trust-fund baby,” he rants, moving to swipe aggressively across the counter. “You really think telling him to fuck off is going to work? Wilhelm is literally the single most insufferable human being I have ever fucking met and - ”

A loud clattering interrupts him, followed by the sound of rapidly shuffling footsteps. When Simon turns around, the first thing he sees is two empty coffee cups on their side, the contents of which are dripping out over the table he’d just finished wiping down. Then, his stomach sinks.

Wilhelm is standing in front of the door, looking adorably windswept in his expensive wool coat. His cheeks are flushed, his expression mortified. “Sorry,” his breathes, voice cracking as he scrambles for a stack of tissues, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to - ”

Thankfully, Ayub is the first speak. “Hey, man, it’s just a spill. don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll take care of it, let me just go grab a mop.”

Simon throws him a panicked look at being left alone, but Ayub only shrugs in return as he makes his way to the back.

“I need a mop,” he tells him simply, shouldering past Simon with a pat on his arm.

Simon watches him go, swallowing tightly. There’s a long moment of deep, uncomfortable silence. Finally, he forces himself to take a deep breath. “We close in four minutes, sorry,” he says, voice thin.

Wilhelm’s head is bowed, eyes trained on the floor. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “I know.”

Guilt churns in Simon’s stomach like acid. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” he offers then, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Wille’s tone is robotic. When his gaze finally flickers up to meet Simon’s, his eyes look like broken glass. “Sorry about the mess.” He runs an awkward hand through his hair, even as the strands tumble back into his face almost immediately “I’ll - I’ll just - ” he jabs a thumb at the door, turning to leave.

Simon’s feet carry him across the room before his mind can catch up with his actions. “Wille, wait,” he begs. “That was - I’m really sorry.”

Wille turns to look at him as he pulls the door open again, backlit by the setting sun. His eyes are dark and sad, “It’s fine, Simon.”

Simon wrings his hand, “We - we open at eleven tomorrow,” he offers nonsensically, “if you come back then - ”

The ghost of an unhappy smile flickers across Wilhelm’s face. “I wasn’t here for a sandwich,” he shoves his hands in his pockets as he leans back against the open door. “I just thought. You’re always drinking flat whites in class. And I thought - that I could, you know, bring you one and we could like - ”

Dimly, Simon thinks he’s going to be sick.

Wille looks away then, blinking rapidly like he’s fighting back tears. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “I got the message. I’ll leave you alone now,” he steps out onto the street, shooting him a last, small smile. “Have a good night, Simon.”

Simon opens his mouth to say - what exactly he doesn’t know. Maybe he means to apologize once more, to ask Wille to come back inside, to offer to buy him another coffee.

Instead, the door swings shut between them before he can decide and Simon watches through paned glass as Wille’s late evening silhouette disappears out into the crowd.

[lilirari]

new year's day

charles leclerc x gn! reader ☆ fluff ☆ food & alcohol ment ☆ 1.02k words ☆ heavily inspired by taylor swift's 'new year's day'.

💭 author's note : a very short & simple writing to start off the year ! i've gotten a bit rusty with written works tbh :( anyways 2024 will be charles' and ferrari's year !! 🤞 (delulu)

it was already past midnight, the leftovers and remains of a new year's party clearly evident in your apartment. there's glitter all over the place and empty bottles of alcohol, boxes of pizza, cans of soft drinks, and random polaroids littered the hardwood floor.

a sigh escaped your lips as you rubbed the temples of your forehead, a trash bag in hand. as you looked around the trashed apartment, your eyes landed on the only other person present there.

" you don't have to stay back, you know. " you pointed out, as the other person shook his head. " it's alright, y/n. it's the least i can do... especially after my friends absolutely wrecked your place. " charles mentioned, offering you an apologetic smile as he looked around the place.

you chuckled softly at his words as you waved your hand in dismissal. " it's all good, charlie. you don't have to apologise. i was the one who invited them anyways so i'll take the blame. although, i must admit that it was quite fun meeting them again. they were the life of the party, especially daniel. it would've been pretty boring without any of them so i don't really regret inviting them. "

charles laughed at your words, nodding his head in agreement. " that is true.. they do know how to party well. "

" hmm.. but charles, you really should go. do you really want to spend the first day of a new year cleaning up an apartment that's not even yours ? " you asked, your voice laced with concerned as you picked up a few empty cans and threw them inside the trash bag.

upon hearing your words, the monegasque man raised an eyebrow. " y/n, are you trying to get rid of me ? " he asked as he slumped his shoulders and folded his arms. " i'll have you know that i'm quite hurt by these words of yours. " he commented, pretending to be upset as you suppressed a laughter, trying your best not to crack at his antics.

" oh, you know it's nothing like that, charlie. but i'm just worried that i'll ruin your new year's day. like, you're supposed to be at home having a good rest right now but you're stuck with me here instead. and this is not really an ideal thing to be doing on the first day of the new year, y'know ? " you continued, voicing your concern over his stay as he just smiled.

" y/n, you're not getting rid of me. there's no point in telling me to leave because i won't. i've already made up my mind. i'm staying here and i'm going to help you until the end. "

there was something about the way he looked and smiled at you that made your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched. he was always so kind to you, a true gentleman. and the fact that you had the biggest crush on him didn't help at all. as you felt your cheeks start to warm up, you quickly tried to cover it with a small cough. " fine. but you can't complain if you get tired, alright ? "

the sound of his laughter filled the room as he gave you a cheeky smile. " deal. "

the remaining hour went by rather silently, with only the sound of soft music playing in the background being heard. the two of you swept the floors, rearranged any of the furnitures which were out of place and picked up all the trash. the only conversation you had in between the clean-up was when charles found some funny polaroids the other drivers took, which made you both laugh until your stomachs ached and you had to cross your arms over your stomachs in an attempt to catch your breaths.

eventually, you somehow finished cleaning up the place and made it look like how it was before it got trashed. you held onto a mop for support as you sighed, the exhaustion from all the partying and the cleaning finally catching up to you.

charles walked back into the room, having gone out to throw the garbage bags into the bins on the street. " looks like our job's done. " he pointed out as his eyes scanned the room, which seemed to be devoid of any irregularities now and looked spotless. his eyes landed on you as you wiped away the sweat on your forehead. " tired ? "

you nodded at his words as you placed the mop back to its original place and walked up to the driver. " a little, yeah. but it was worth it. thank you for helping me out, charlie. i would've never finished cleaning all the mess in a short amount of time without you. " you extended your thanks, moving your lips slightly to indicate a smile.

" it's nothing, y/n. this is why i told you not to get rid of me. " he nudged your sides, showing you his pearly whites as he grinned. you playfully rolled your eyes at his words, before remembering something. " oh yeah, i forgot to ask you earlier. did you enjoy the party ? "

" i did. " charles muttered, his voice suddenly growing softer as he took a step forward. " there's one thing i regret not doing at the party though. "

" hmm ? what's that ? " you hummed, your eyes searching for an answer in his. nothing could've prepared you for his next words though as he placed a hand on your cheek, his eyes landing on your lips for a mere second before darting back to look at you. he took in a deep breath, as his thumb gently grazed your lower lip. " i really wished i had kissed you when the clock struck twelve. "

your eyes widened and you felt your heartbeat pick up it's pace. did he feel the same way about you as you felt about him ? there was only one way to find out. you boldly leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you as you looked into his eyes. " well, can't you kiss me now ? "

charles couldn't have been more happier to hear those words come out of your mouth as he immediately pressed his lips against yours, giving you the answer to your question through this action of his and a memorable way to begin a new chapter of your life.

© LILIRARI, 2024 ★

[grapenehifics]

Confession - Obikin Promptober day 17

Someday I will get back to the fics I'm meant to be working on, but not this day! Today, I was inspired to write a coffee shop AU (thank you @evieswips!) for the Obikin Promptober (thank you @paracosm-draw!) prompt, 'confession'. 2k of fluff and aprons below the cut:

"Uh, Obi-Wan? I...think somebody left this for you?"

Anakin wasn't sure why he phrased it as a question. A note labeled, 'to the cute redhead behind the counter' definitely wasn't for Anakin, and he and Obi-Wan were the only two who'd been working the shop that day. (They were the only two working the shop ANY day. Anakin was Obi-Wan's sole employee.) He shouldn't open it - it wasn't addressed to him - but Obi-Wan didn't reach for it, merely looked over his shoulder curiously and mumbled, 'oh, yes?' as he continued to sweep the floor, so Anakin unfolded the slip of paper. "I think she's asking you on a date," he said morosely, his stomach sinking down to somewhere around his sneakers. (Okay, so maybe Anakin DID know why he'd phrased it as a question. Anakin was hopelessly, catastrophically in love with his boss.)

"Again?" Obi-Wan asked mildly, and Anakin was so distracted by this response that he hardly noticed when Obi-Wan took the slip of paper from him and slid it into the pocket of the apron he wore around his waist. (Anakin had a crush on a man who wore an apron. What was his world coming to?)

"Again?" Anakin squeaked, so surprised he dropped the trash can he'd been emptying. His voice went high and unattractive, nearly shrill. "What do you mean, 'again'?"

"She's...asked before. I admire the persistence, if nothing else," Obi-Wan said, ignoring Anakin's mounting panic and opening the cash register. He pointedly was not making eye contact, but Anakin couldn't stop staring. He'd feel bad about neglecting his duties, except for the fact that he'd clocked out hours ago. He'd told Obi-Wan that the shop was a good place for him to study even after his shift, and it was...sort of. The coffee was good - it had better be; Anakin had ducked behind the counter and made it himself; not wanting to bother Obi-Wan, who was busy with paying customers, for a cup - and the atmosphere pleasant, but Anakin would definitely have been able to get more work done if he hadn't spent half his time sneaking glances at Obi-Wan's butt when Obi-Wan wasn't looking or pausing the clacking of his keyboard to listen to Obi-Wan's smooth, melodic voice as he took orders and flirted with the clientele or insisting that he was 'planning on taking a break for a while anyway' every time Obi-Wan stopped by to check on his booth even if he hadn't been anywhere near due to take a break. And then, when Anakin realized it was closing time and he'd (again) not moved for a solid four hours, he'd offered to stay late, helping Obi-Wan clean and close up. It was Anakin's favorite part of the day, despite not getting paid for it. The doors were locked, the lights were dimmed, and it was just him and Obi-Wan, puttering around, straightening chairs and taking inventory.

"And...you've told her no? That's not persistence, Obi-Wan; that's just...not taking no for an answer," Anakin said, getting his hackles up. No meant no, and if this lady couldn't take a hint...

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Oh, no. Nothing like that. I said I'd think about it."

Anakin picked the trash can back up again and frowned. It didn't sound like Obi-Wan to lead somebody on like that. "Don't you like her?"

Obi-Wan gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Difficult to say. We haven't actually been on that date yet." Anakin's frowned just from hearing Obi-Wan use the word 'date'. "I've simply been busy. Well, you know how it is," he quickly added, catching a glimpse of Anakin's expression. "Starting a new business..." He'd paused, mop dangling from his hand. "I poured my entire life savings and my father's inheritance into this place. I want it to work. I need it to work. Perhaps down the line - a few years from now - I can start thinking about dating again, but" -

"Wait, wait," Anakin interrupted. He set the trash can on the counter and put his hands on his hips as he stared the man down. "Obi-Wan. You're telling me that you're not going out with a cute girl because of work?"

Anakin was surprised to find himself so offended. He wasn't sure why he was coming to this woman's aid, when he very manifestly did not want Obi-Wan to date her. But even more than not wanting that, he did want Obi-Wan to be happy. And shutting himself up in his coffee shop was not the way to do that.

"I...you know that we..." Obi-Wan spluttered, gesturing with the mop handle. "You of all people know how hard we work."

(Obi-Wan desperately needed another one, maybe two, employees, in addition to Anakin, but Anakin had refrained from mentioning that fact, because then Obi-Wan might do it, and hire some more people, and then Anakin wouldn't be special anymore.)

"This place is my life," Obi-Wan continued, "and..."

"Bullshit," Anakin blurted out, and Obi-Wan pulled up in surprise. He looked so hurt that Anakin almost felt bad, but he barreled on anyway. "Look, Obi-Wan, you don't want to go out with this chick in particular, I get it. You know what, maybe you don't want to date at all. And that's fine; it's your life. But I don't ever want to hear you say that this place" - Anakin gestured over his shoulder to the rest of the coffee shop - "is all you have. Because it isn't. It's just a job. You have..." Anakin, surprisingly, felt his breath hitch and his throat swell. He hadn't expected to get so emotional over this. He suddenly thought of his mom, who'd worked nearly until the day she'd died, and how much Anakin would give for even one more day with her. "You have people who love you," he finished throatily.

Obi-Wan's face softened and he started to reach out, as if to take Anakin's arm, and then thought better of it and let his hand fall to his side again. "Many of whom I've met because of this shop," he added softly, and Anakin thought about the blonde woman who'd left the note again.

"You have to do something for you, Obi-Wan," Anakin said. He was in no fit place to be giving his boss - or anyone - life advice, but Anakin believed in what he was saying with his whole heart. "You've just gotta take a chance, sometimes, you know? Even if it's scary. Even if it" -

The mop fell to the floor with a clatter. Obi-Wan stepped forward, brought his hands up, closed the distance between them, cupped Anakin's face in his palms, and kissed the stuttered surprise right out of Anakin's mouth.

"Hmm?" Anakin said, or something very close to it, and his fingertips had just barely brushed the thick cotton of Obi-Wan's apron on either side of his hips when Obi-Wan stumbled backward, his mouth open and his eyes wide.

"I...I just kissed my employee," Obi-Wan said, sounding horrified, and he brought his hand up again, this time pressing the back of his wrist to his lips. His wet lips. That Anakin had just had pressed against his. "Anakin, I'm so sorry," Obi-Wan murmured, rushing to get the words out as he wiped his mouth with his hand. "That was a completely inappropriate overstep on my part. I...can we...can we please just forget this ever happened, and" -

"Absolutely not," Anakin growled, and he finished the motion he'd started and hooked his index fingers through the white cotton ties of the apron that held it snug around Obi-Wan's captivatingly trim little waist. He yanked Obi-Wan forward and stepped toward him at the same time, so that their chests and hips met in the middle almost painfully. Anakin had to duck his chin a little to catch Obi-Wan's eye at this angle. Obi-Wan looked back up at him. His mouth was still open, a little, but now instead of panting he seemed to be holding his breath. "Forget what I said before. Fuck all those other people I was talking about. It's me. I love you." Anakin unhooked his fingers just long enough to wrap his hands around Obi-Wan's hips instead. He could feel the warmth of him through his left palm, and the solid weight of him through the right. "Take a chance on me, Obi-Wan. Please." He knew he was begging, knew his lip was wobbling and tears were gathering in his eyes, but he stayed where he was, firm and resolute. If Obi-Wan didn't want him he was going to have to tell Anakin that himself.

"But what if I'm scared," Obi-Wan whispered, and he broke eye contact long enough to look down at the center of Anakin's chest instead, and at the same time brought his own hand up and placed it flat, fingers splayed, over Anakin's beating heart. Anakin half-hoped he could feel how fast Anakin's heart was beating under his ribcage, and half-hoped he couldn't. "This could go so wrong, Anakin; I'm so much older than you are, and I'm your boss, and" -

Anakin, a little reluctantly, took his right hand off of Obi-Wan's hip and wrapped it around his wrist instead, pinning Obi-Wan's hand to where it lay splayed over Anakin's sternum. "So maybe now's a good time to break some bad news to you," Anakin said lowly, and now it was his turn to hold his breath in nervous anticipation.

Obi-Wan's head snapped up. "What?"

Anakin couldn't bear to see him look like that, even in jest. He closed his eyes and gave Obi-Wan a quick, puckered kiss to the tip of his nose before pulling back. He rubbed the back of Obi-Wan's hand with his thumb. "I quit."

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. Anakin was gratified to feel his hand curl just a little possessively around Anakin's t-shirt. He wasn't sure Obi-Wan was even aware he was doing it. "You're quitting? Why?"

Anakin shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though his heart was in his throat. If this didn't work, Anakin was not only out a job but would lose the chance to see the love of his life every morning for a four-hour shift, doubles on weekends. "There's this really cute guy I want to take out on a date, but between my classes and homework and this really demanding job I have, I just don't know when I'd find the time to woo him the way he deserves." He slid his left hand, the one still on Obi-Wan's waist, back and to the side, until it was resting at the small of Obi-Wan's back, just above the knot in his apron ties. "He's worth it, though."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I don't want you to leave," he said, sounding almost as petulant as Anakin did when he was trying to get out of having to take the trash out to the dumpster, and Anakin was struck by the desire to kiss his nose again. "This is your job, Anakin, and I won't have you losing your apartment over this. We'll figure something else out. We'll..."

"Oh." Anakin shook his head. "I didn't say I wasn't going to work. I'm just not going to work here. I know when I answered that ad in your window I didn't know the difference between an Americano and a cortado but you whipped me into shape. Darling." Anakin rubbed Obi-Wan's back to try to distract him from the endearment he'd just let slip out. "I'm taking everything you taught me and I'm going to sell it to the highest bidder. I bet I'll have a new job by the time I come to pick you up on Friday for our date."

Obi-Wan gave him a shy, rueful smile, and Anakin was delighted to see the tips of his ears blush a very cute shade of pink. "I admire the persistence," he admitted.

That wasn't a yes. "Is that a yes?" Anakin asked, almost demanding.

Obi-Wan was still blushing, but he grinned mischievously at him and shifted - Anakin sprang back to release his wrist as quickly as if he'd been burnt - to wrap his arms around Anakin's neck. "We close at eight on Fridays."

"I know," Anakin said, appreciating the new angle and allowing himself the luxury of wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and holding him close. "I used to work here, until about ten seconds ago, remember?"

"...but for a special occasion I might just manage to lock up before seven," Obi-Wan said, and once again Anakin only managed to let out half of a surprised, happy gasp before Obi-Wan kissed him again.

[delirious-donna]

Tales From The Housekeeper [Extra Drabble]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

an: despite never being seen, the developing relationship between you and Kento has been witnessed up close. Mrs McGarden has been Nanami's cleaner for many years and she knows in her heart what is happening within the walls of the apartment... a little diary that I thought was a fun idea.

warning: none, SFW, fluff and humour

Series Masterlist

𝓜𝓻𝓼 𝓜𝓬𝓖𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷’𝓼 𝓒𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓸𝓰

𝓒𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓮: Nanami Kento 

𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼: general tidying, kitchen deep cleaned once a week and trash to be removed, vacuum and mop every other day, windows on a Friday, ad hoc jobs as and when 

𝓒𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼: very polite, young professional man, values his privacy, has a younger sister who has been known to visit unexpectedly (she has her own key for the door, keycard for the elevator and the passcodes), sister aside it is unusual for others to be visiting. Enjoys homemade bread and good coffee (reminder to bring by baked goods every now and then – especially banana bread and caramel pecan muffins) 

𝓢𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼: steer clear of anything overly floral, prefers subtle scents that evoke a sense of cleanliness, use Tom Ford Ébène Fumé reed diffuser in the master bedroom 

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

No incidents to report. Apartment was empty on entry. Kitchen deep cleaned, skirting boards and cupboard doors included. Trash emptied. Took receipt of laundered items – left on master bed as requested. Replaced diffusers in living room and both bathrooms. 

𝓣𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

Strange phone call from Miss Nanami, client’s younger sister. I… I don’t know how to feel about it all. Over the years of my employment, I have grown very fond of Mr Nanami and whilst I do not see him most of the times I am here, on the occasions we do cross paths, he is always courteous and easy to converse with. That being said, I am not sure if I wish to be a part of the scheme she has proposed. I will have to think on it this evening, perhaps I will run it past Mr McGarden to see what he thinks of it all… 

Oh, before I forget. No other incidents to report. Linens from the beds stripped and remade with new sheets. All floors hoovered or mopped as planned. Plants watered. 

𝓦𝓮𝓭𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

I don’t know if my conscious will hold out, but I have decided that I could not ignore the plight of Miss Karin’s friend. What kind of woman would I be if I were not to allow a young woman a safe place to stay? I’ll be honest, Miss Karin was extremely persuasive… she would make an excellent lawyer. All I have to do is act oblivious if asked, which should not be a problem given the upcoming business trip. It might be nice to have a feminine presence in the apartment, and I can remove all trace of her before Mr Nanami returns, of that I am certain. 

One broken coffee mug (I expect my clumsiness was a result of my slightly frayed nerves) and I have left a note with the promise of replacing it. Couch cushions fluffed, blankets refolded and the ceiling fan and other hard to reach areas dusted. Counters sprayed down with disinfectant. List made for tomorrow – operation deep clean. 

𝓣𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

If I listed everything here it would take me an age. Suffice it to say the apartment is spotless, and I have left a Tupperware box of fruit scones for Mr Nanami to take away with him on his trip (my guilty conscious acting again and Mr McGarden was rather upset that there were no leftovers for him). Funny that I didn’t see his luggage out of the closet yet, perhaps he is packing last minute. I am both nervous and excited. I feel like a co-conspirator of some awful heist! 

𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂

I am a nervous wreck… I barely slept last night and found myself starting work far earlier than normal simply because I couldn’t relax. All last-minute details straightened out. Mr Nanami had left for work or the airport by the time I arrived. Unusually there were some leftovers from the previous evening left out – a crystal tumbler with a hint of whisky in the bottom and a bowl with the stems of grapes. It’s not like him to not pick up after himself but maybe he was in a rush. I left as quickly as I could, not wishing to startle the poor girl who would be staying in the apartment. This is going to be fine, right? Oh, dear lord, what have I let myself in for… 

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

If I avoid being fired it will be a miracle. From what I’ve heard there was a mix-up and now Mr Nanami knows of his sister’s scheme and apparently, she might have thrown me under the bus too. I will be having words with her as soon as she deems to answer my calls, the little madam. I caught the barest glimpse of the guest this morning as she was heading into her room, she smiled and I got the sense that despite the confusion, she is happy to be here. 

Mr Nanami, on the other hand, had less to say to me than I thought. He asked if I had known about Miss Karin’s plan and I couldn’t play dumb, not under his gaze. The man can be intimidating without really trying and I hope to goodness he hasn’t scared the poor woman. Rather than react with anger, he simply tightened his jaw and gave a firm nod. There is something different about him, I’m not sure what makes me say that, call it woman’s intuition. I am on reduced hours until his guest leaves and I can only hope he doesn’t reconsider my offer of resignation. I really would miss him as a client. 

𝓣𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂 

There is something brewing here, I can feel it. What I claimed as woman’s intuition is now so much more. Mr Nanami is more relaxed than I have ever seen him, and he wears it well. It is nice to see him looking less tired, his eyes are brighter, and I would swear he smiles more frequently. His companion is doing wonders for his mood and no wonder, she is such a lovely young thing. Very intelligent, witty, and most importantly, she doesn’t let anyone walk over her. We have chatted once or twice but only for a minute. I like her, and I don’t believe I am alone in that sentiment. 

I keep forgetting to detail my tasks, I would forget my head if it weren’t screwed on as Mr McGarden likes to remind me. Linens changed. Laundry ordered for collection on Monday morning. Floors cleaned. Mug replaced from last week. Plants watered and pruned. 

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

Oh, my days. I don’t know what to think. The atmosphere continues to change every time I visit. Today it seems the two of them have ventured to the National Museum together. Would one consider that a date? Maybe I am reading into things too much. Too many Mills and Boon novels in my nightstand. He deserves happiness. Money can only afford so much. I’ve worked for Mr Nanami long enough to want to see him settle and be happy. I dare not get my hopes up but it’s impossible when I witness these furtive little glances between them. It’s also rather funny how they seem to fall silent whenever I am within earshot. It reminds me of my courting days… 

Living area straightened, a dog-eared book found down the side of the couch cushions, and I doubt it belongs to Mr Nanami. His bookshelves are stuffed full, but each book is in pristine, unread condition. The man simply does not have time for reading. Maybe they will change. Floors cleaned. I can’t help but notice that the apartment feels far more lived in than it ever has. Diffuser changed in the master bedroom. 

𝓦𝓮𝓭𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

She left. I don’t know what else to say. The apartment is a mess, well, as messy as I’ve ever seen it. Decorative ribbon on the living room floor, a half empty bottle of whisky on the kitchen island, two mugs unused but set out… Mr Nanami refuses to speak to me, refuses to even meet my eye. I’d take it for anger if I didn’t know better. There is guilt in his gaze. Whatever happened yesterday, he won’t be drawn on the matter. I’ve thought to call Miss Karin but is it my place? Never have I seen the man so dishevelled and utterly miserable. I suspect he hasn’t bathed as I can smell the lingering alcohol when he slouches past. I don’t like this. I should have never meddled in his affairs. Just when I thought he might have found someone to brighten his days… oh, it’s such a mess. 

Kitchen disinfected, dishwasher emptied and reloaded. Living area tidied except for the ribbon which I dare not touch. Bedrooms… the guest room is barren and sad. Mr Nanami prevented me from stripping the linens, in fact, he practically shooed me from the room. Bathrooms cleaned. There is a lump in my throat as I write this. I wish I had never been a part of any of this, not when it has seemingly ended so disastrously. What shall I do? I suppose that nothing would be the best answer, it is not my business to meddle in. 

𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂

No one was home. I worry that Mr Nanami is not eating, there is very little trash and no leftovers in the fridge. I couldn’t help but peek inside the bedroom next to his and I found it exactly as it had been the last time I was here. The sheets are made but the ruffles show the clear form of a body huddled atop the bed. I’m not sure if it’s from the poor girl or if Mr Nanami has taken to sleeping in here. A sadness remains and I’ve taken to completing my tasks as quickly as possible to escape the gloom. If things have not improved over the weekend… perhaps I can offer a friendly ear? I doubt he would accept the offer, but I can’t continue on like this and feeling partly responsible. 

Windows washed. Floors cleaned. Empty liquor bottles taken out for recycling… he never normally drinks this heavily.  

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

I was running late today, and of all the days to fall behind. It must be serendipitous! The key was barely in the lock when my phone rang from the depths of my bag. Lo and behold… Miss Karin had finally returned my calls. I was halfway through giving her a mouthful when she cut me off with seven words that I will remember for years to come.  

He left work to go find her. 

I’m in shock. Never have I known Mr Nanami to leave work before the day was done. In fact, he often worked far later than he needed to just to stay ahead of the competition. There was something in Miss Karin’s voice, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but she knows more than she was letting on. I could have cried on the spot. 

Linens changed although I have again left the guest bedroom. Kitchen deep cleaned. Plants watered and pruned. Dusting done. I took the liberty of baking some bread whilst I was here. The sun was long down by the time I left. I guess I lingered in the hopes of maybe seeing them both, but it wasn’t to be. There is hope in my heart once more and I will nurture it. Mr McGarden picked me up this evening and listened to me on the drive home. He told me about a saying from the country he was born and raised in… ‘whits fur ye’ll no go by ye’, which means what is for you will not go by you and I believe that in my heart. 

There will be a happy ending, or I will eat my hat! 

[bitterrobin]

Either I make multiple housekeeper ocs for my au or at least half of Wayne Manor is kept boarded up indefinitely. Sorry to burst people's bubbles but there is no conceivable way Alfred by himself is cleaning the entire mansion.

I've grown up helping my mother (who otherwise works alone w chronic back pain) clean middle to upper class homes here in SoCal. In very white oriented areas with housewives and large families with dogs and good financial situations. Now, there's a huge difference between large modern homes that have only two maybe three floors and the entire floor plan of a mansion that's at minimum built in the 1800s and has 30 rooms. But fundamentally the problems with upkeep are the same. You need to sweep all the floors, mop, wipe the baseboards, vacuum every carpet. You need to wipe clean windows, fans, HC units, lightbulbs, staircases, every surface used constantly - kitchen countertops, bathroom counters, showers/bathtubs/toilets. You need to do laundry, not only clothes, but towels and bedding used by the owners and the rags you use to clean. Fold that laundry. Make the beds. Take out every full trashbag and haul it out of the house. Wash dishes daily. Put those dishes away. Occasionally remind the owner that maybe a light needs fixing, there's a hole in their daughter's sweater, the dog peed inside, that their son tends to stuff trash under the couch cushions and now they have an ant infestation.

On average, with my help, it takes my mom 4-5 hours for one two-floor house. Takes longer by herself. That's not even getting into the amount of people and pets. If there's kids, you need to clean after their spaces more than the adults. With babies, there's diapers and toys all over. With dogs or cats there's always always fur to pick up. The bigger the family, the busier they are, the messier the house. And thats all for a housekeeper that visits every week and gets paid in numbers ranging from 6$0 to $100. (And often people will forget to pay you and you have to stretch out your budget for weeks and weeks and then they pay you and they forget again next month).

For Alfred, as an official butler and employee, he lives at the manor. There's no cost for him that comes from travel (no car to pay for fuel) or cleaning supplies (Bruce probably pays for them). But everything else? Not to mention the added chaos factor of BEING VIGILANTES. Alfred not only upkeep the house they live in, but prepares food, clothing, scheduling, and cleans the Batcave and feeds the bats, at least two large dogs, and one cat. Theres multiple cars and vehicles, guns, weaponry, technology to watch out for (and I know the average fanon enjoyer doesn't know Harold Allnut should be doing that). He picks Bruce's clothes and dresses him for godssake. Hell, Alfred even operates the Batcomputer when needed every night. He does their medical care (and people forget about Leslie yet again, even regarding her relationship w Bruce, still. still.) That's too much for one old man.

Realistically, either Bruce has a full house staff like nobles used to have, or Alfred simply does not do as much as people think. He's old. Forever aging. There's not going to be 20+ plus rooms ready all the time for people to sleep in. At best, the residents of the Manor are Bruce, Tim, and Damian. At best, their bedrooms are kept clean daily. All the other bedrooms are cleaned maybe monthly. The rooms that aren't bedrooms (foyers/attics etc) maybe every other month. Groceries are multiple day events. Same with cooking full meals, dietary plans. Galas and business functions require weeks and months. The pets take days for veterinary care and training. The kids all together take weeks, days individually and together. And they not only look at you as a butler but as family. You are responsible for their wellbeing, emotions whether you like it or not (bc Alfred frankly enables Bruce too much but thats for another day).

Only saving grace he has is that recently not many people live there anymore. Stephanie and Helena and Kate and Barbara shouldn't be living there in the first place. Dick and Jason have their own places. Tim and Cassandra are up in the air but I don't think they spend 100% of their time in the Manor because they're young adults with various circumstances.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my roommates to clean the bathroom in a specific way, or pay me to do so for them?

I (21F) live in student housing with 3 roommates, all 20-21F. We started living together in August and will continue living together until we all graduate a year from now. Our apartment has four bedrooms but we all share one bathroom.

When we first started living together we came to some agreement on cleaning things, like that dishes are the responsibility of whoever dirtied them, rotating trash duties, and importantly for this post we decided that we would alternate who cleaned the bathroom each week and posted a calendar that says who’s week it is with a place to leave a check mark when it’s complete.

This ostensibly works fine, as people are roughly on time with their cleaning and check off their name as they are supposed to. However. Each of our ideas of cleaning the bathroom are vastly different. For example when I clean the bathroom I scrub the toilet bowl, wipe down the toilet seat top, lift up the seat and wipe down under there, wipe the flusher and the back of the toilet because it gets dusty and gross, wipe down door handle as you have to touch it with dirty hands to get out of the WC to the sink, wipe down the countertop and and the sink, spray and then rinse the shower with cleaner, take hair out of the shower drain (bc they refuse to use a drain cover), vacuum up the insane amounts of hair that end up on our floor, and then mop the floor as well as take out the bathroom trash.

my roommates will maybe clean the inside of the toilet bowl and spray/scrub the shower before checking their names off the list. It drives me insane bc it means that I have to clean everyone else’s weeks of grime off the floor and toilet seat, and pull so much hair out of our shower. There have been weeks where I’m not convinced any cleaning happened at all, and I think people just checked their names off without doing anything. I’ve discussed this with my roommates both individually and as a group in the past but they say that they are cleaning the bathroom so there shouldn’t be an issue

This is where I may be the asshole: enter The Cleaning List. Basically I made a list of requirements for the bathroom cleaning. It’s formatted with headings of areas to be cleaned and bullet points underneath of specifics. (For example one heading is “TOILET” with the bullet points “-clean top of and underneath toilet, -seat scrub toilet bowl, -wipe flusher.”) I then took a picture of this list and texted the group saying that I would like to implement these as the new cleaning requirements and post the list next to our calendar of who’s turn it is to clean. I also told them that if they couldn’t commit to the time/effort that these new rules would add, they could pay me 30 dollars on their weeks to do it for them.

My roommates did not appreciate my idea for The Cleaning List nor the idea of paying me to clean on their week. They called me a controlling and said I wasn’t appreciating the work they do to clean the bathroom already, and just because I have ridiculous standards doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have to pay me. They said the current system works fine so we should just keep doing what we’re doing.

I don’t think I’m the asshole because I’m doing more work than everyone else to maintain the cleanliness of our shared space and I think we should either split the work fairly or that I should at least be compensate for making up for everyone else’s refusal to clean the bathroom in a way that’s productive. But I could be the asshole because I did ask them to put in more work to meet my own standards, or ask them to pay me to do it for them if they can’t even though their standards aren’t the same.

So, AITA?

Extra info: 1. it’s worth saying I have contamination OCD and cleaning other peoples grossness gives me intense anxiety but the anxiety is far worse when I have to interact with the grossness on a daily basis with no recourse. Some of my roommates are aware of this some are not. 2. When I claim I don’t think the bathroom is being cleaned properly, it’s not because the bathroom isn’t sparkling and spotless. It’s because there’s consistently pee stains on toilet seats, shit streaks in the toilet, a visible layer of hair strands on the floor, and enough hair in the shower that if I don’t clean it the whole thing clogs.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Right after bob’s death, stevo stays at your place because staying at his was too much. Basically just the reader loving on stevo is all. Their relationship doesn’t really matter as long as its clear that they are soulmates in some capacity. I think stevo just needs to let himself be loved. Grief and depression is horrible to go through alone so its great to have someone who gets it with you as you heal you know?

𝒪𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓎ℴ𝓊

A/n: This was kinda hard to write, but I definitely needed to

Taglist: @abriefnirvana

Warnings: death, angst to fluff, grief

He wiped the tears away as he got into his car, he breathed a shaky breath as he looked at himself in the car mirror. He was disheveled, with a tangled mop of hair and wrinkled clothes.

Stevo's mind raced with thoughts of where to spend the night. And then it hit him - you were the only other person he wanted to be with right now. You would know what to do now.

Without a second thought, he stepped on the gas pedal and raced towards you as fast as his old car could go.

As he rushed towards your apartment, no matter how hard he tried to stop them, the tears streamed down his cheeks while Bad Religion blared on the radio.

He found himself thinking about Bob. Was he a bad friend for leaving him like that? He felt horrible, but he wasn’t sure about what else to do.

The image stayed in his mind, almost causing a crash as his thoughts raced, his hands acting faster than his head.

Finally, after what felt like the longest drive in history, he reached your place. He looked at a bottle of beer on the side of his door, drinking it as if he was a college kid who had just been dared to. He would need it tonight. Then he laid his eyes on someone outside.

As you were taking out the trash, you saw a small baby cat nearby and smiled. You knelt, and the cat shyly approached you. It rubbed against your leg as you looked into its curious eyes and pet it with care.

He stumbled out of his car door, the sound making you turn your head and the cat also turn its head to him.

“Stevo?” you mumbled to yourself. You recognized the blue hair quickly, and he looked at you. He was…crying?

"Stevo," you said, as you dropped your trash on the floor and hurried towards him. He was crying uncontrollably, and when he saw you, he wrapped his arms around you. You were taken aback by the sudden embrace, but you rubbed his back to give him some sort of comfort. "Oh, Stevo," you whispered softly.

He cried, tears staining your shirt as he buried his head in your shoulder. People came outside when they heard the cries.

“You're the only one I have left.” he cried into your shoulder.

“C’mon, let's go inside, okay?” you weren't sure what had happened, but it made your heart break.

You had been lifelong friends since middle school and stuck together like glue. Despite your longstanding feelings for him, you never told him how you felt in fear of him not having the same feelings.

He thought you were too sweet to him, too nice in this cruel, unjust world.

The little cat watched as you both walked up the stairs. Stevo looked back at its copper eyes and black fur, following his moves like a lucky cat in a store.

You led him inside, his sobs became more quiet and slowed down as he rubbed his eyes with his hand and sat down on a chair at your table. He felt like a loser, a poser. But you were one of the only people he knew wouldn’t judge him.

You shut the door and turned to him. It was silent for a moment while you both stared at each other.

“What happened?” you asked softly, making your way to the chair next to him.

He looked down at the ground while he explained what happened this morning. Bob had died of an overdose, your eyes widened as you listened and looked at him with sadness.

“I’m.. so sorry. Steven.. that’s horrible.” You said once he finished.

Steven. You hadn’t used his real name in ages.

He didn’t know how to respond, he simply just looked down.

“Uhm… you want me to call for you? So you don’t have to? I can tell them what happened so he can get buried, and everything else…”

He looked up now. “You’d do that?”

You nodded and smiled at him.

"Stevo, I am here for you, whether you need anything or want to talk. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.” he mumbled, feeling himself about to cry again.

You went over to him, he stood up and hugged you again, when you both pulled away you smiled softly and wiped his tears away.

"You can stay for as long as you need, okay?" you spoke softly.

You led him into your room, telling him to chill in there for a second while you called the police. They said they had to question you, but you did not mention Stevo at all, so as long as he didn’t have to, you were fine with it.

You hung up and sighed, rubbing your forehead. You felt horrible for Stevo, who had to see his best friend and roommates dead body in front of him, crying for him.

You entered the room for and climbed into the bed beside him. He gazed at you with red, tired eyes, and wrapped his arms around your body. You reciprocated the gesture, holding him close and not wanting to let go, playing with his hair as he rested his head on your chest.

You kissed the top of his head, and in any situation, he would've questioned the action. But right now it was just what he needed.

He fell asleep quickly in your arms, his eyes heavy. You wished it happened under better circumstances.

[huenyang]

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader / genre: meet-cute, fluff / word count: 1k / notes: very self indulgent im not going to lie, if theres any spelling mistakes no there aren't

summary: after having a terrible day, the handsome stranger you meet seems to know just how to lift your mood.

The smell of coffee - the cup which was previously in your hands, now all over your shirt and the floor of the convenience store - feels like it burns on the way down to your lungs. Accompanied by the frustrated tears that sting your eyes, you almost want to sink to the ground and rip your hair out.

Today was not your day.

As if having an already stressful day and dropping the coffee you’d paid for wasn’t enough, you had bumped into someone else. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the stranger seems to want to burn himself into your brain while doing nothing at all.

Gazing up at him, you feel your eyes linger a little too long. Maybe gods are real, because this man looks like he’s been sculpted by Aphrodite herself. Good god, you wince. You don’t even know his name and you’re acting like this. 

If you weren’t still stunlocked by the events prior, you would’ve made a conscious note of how his dark brown eyes widen in surprise and how his fringe looks just a tad bit too long. Or how his lips curl in a gasp.

It’s not just anybody who looks good under convenience store lighting, you reason.

“Oh my god-” he exclaims hurriedly, reaching out as if he wanted to try and save the cup from spilling. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking when I turned.”

You mumble something, it’s okay, probably. It’s like this one man has completely stolen your ability to be normal. But that’s stupid, he hasn’t done anything but apologize for running into you, like anyone with a drop of sense would.

He looks around, leaning a little to look past the many aisles and motion to the clerk that something had happened.

While he’s doing that, you crouch to finally pick up the cup you had almost forgotten while thinking about the pretty, nice stranger right in front of you.

Ew. None of that.

With a sigh, you hold the plastic carefully, trying to avoid the sticky coffee running down along one of the sides, and begin to make your way to the nearest trash can before it drips more and makes an even bigger mess for the poor employees.

It doesn’t take long for him to come back around, message delivered to the store clerk.

When the stranger talks to you again, he looks like he’s about to apologize, but you silence him with a shake of your head and a mirthless laugh.

“Man…” he sighs, shuffling his hands into his coat pockets. “At least let me make it up to you for ruining your coffee.”

You almost want to cry. Over the coffee, over this stranger who keeps being so kind to you, over everything.

“No no, you don’t have to. It’s just coffee.” but it isn’t. “I couldn’t possibly make someone else pay for my own mistake.”

Now it’s his turn to wave his hand dismissively at you, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s nothing! In fact, I insist. I think I’d like to know you better - without the coffee staining both of our shirts, this time.”

The mention of it brings you back to reality, the sticky beverage all over the front of your shirt feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds on your chest, now. You’re not sure if it’s the memory of spilling your coffee everywhere, or the air inside the store, or something else, but suddenly your cheeks feel significantly warmer. You hope the stranger doesn’t notice.

“I don’t have your name.” You say after a second of consideration. “How can I share a coffee with someone I don’t know the name of?”

The question catches him off guard, too, if the way you can see the realization dawn on his face is anything to go by.

“Choi Yeonjun.”

With a grin, you introduce yourself too. An employee with a mop and a bucket interrupts you then, saving you from an awkward conversation with the pretty stranger- Yeonjun. You both step outside, the small ding of the door opening and closing the only sound between you.

“So,” you start, shuffling your feet anxiously. “Can I have your number- for the coffee, of course.” No other reason. No other reason at all.It feels like the single beat between your question and his answer is an eternity. Maybe you sprung the question up on him too suddenly, or maybe he didn’t even mean it to begin with. But before you can think of even more reasons to go and change your identity entirely, he’s fishing for his phone and handing it to you.

“You can put yours in.” he breathes out. Maybe you’re more far gone than you thought, because it sounds almost dreamy. “I’ll put my contact in yours, too, if that’s okay?”

With shaky hands - from the cold, obviously - you quickly tap in your number, setting your own contact as your name and a little sun emoji. You can see him doing the same to his contact, his emoji choice being the fox instead.

Cute.

“We can set up a date later, whenever you’re free.” He says, handing you back your phone and tucking his own back into his pocket. “Just let me know!”

With that, you go your separate ways. On the way home, your mind wanders. It’s almost hard to believe that your shitty day turned into whatever this is. From spilling overpriced coffee you’d bought to cheer yourself up, to meeting a handsome stranger who not only offered to make up for said overpriced coffee, but also gave you his number? If this was a dream, you don’t want to wake up from it.

The dream doesn’t last long, however, because a ping rings from your phone, startling you out of your fantasy and back into reality.

You hope that the multiple people passing by you on the street don’t notice the way your face breaks into a dumb smile as you read.

From: Yeonjjunie 🦊 Hey!! Just making sure this is the right number!! haha Don’t feel pressured to pick yet btw, we can decide later