#step 1) wet hands. warm to hot water is best but if all you have is cold water then that's better than nothing

[arctic-hands]

I wish contact tracing was still a thing AND they were tracing every major contagious disease rn. Would love to scream in the left ear of the rotten pig who didn't wash their hands and gave me norovirus

[rowarn]

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1

simon riley / reader

FIND PART TWO || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: any triggering acts such as harassment/sa are done by a third party, not simon!!! also the sa is not vague or implied, there is a written out scene so please be mindful when you read! thank u to @allsaiint for reading over this and helping!

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

part 1: 17.8k total: 35.8k

Your muscles were stiff, thighs twitching and trembling as you laid in bed, staring at your water stained ceiling. Your chest rose and fell in time with rapid breathing. You had worn yourself out, caused a wet spot on your bed, yet you remained completely unsatisfied. Your fingers were cramped up and you let out a groan of frustration, rolling over to crawl out of bed. 

It had become a daily ritual at this point, you with your hand between your thighs, rubbing and touching, only to get into the shower completely unsatisfied and embarrassed at your own inability to get yourself off. 

People your age didn’t struggle like this, you convinced yourself.  Your cheeks burned as you stepped under the warm spray from your showerhead, the creaking pipes just background noise to you now. You were broken, that was the only explanation you could think of. 

By the time you got out of the shower and changed your sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washer, it was evening and a familiar knocking rang through your apartment.

You didn’t even have to answer it before the lock was clicking and the large form of your best friend Simon ducked in. 

“Hey, Simon!” you called cheerfully, excitedly bounding into the room and wrapping your arms around him in greeting. 

He grunted, harshly patting your back in the familiar way he always does before kicking his boots off. When he straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. 

“What's with you?” he asked, a thick, dark brow raised suspiciously. 

“Um,” you stepped back, shrugging as you tried to look nonchalant, “What do you mean?”

“You look…” his eyes raked down your body, clearly assessing you, “You look tense.”

Immediately, your cheeks erupted into flames. Your face felt so hot that you had to bring your hands up to cool them before laughing nervously, “That’s no different than usual.”

He was silent for several, long, grueling seconds before grunting and breezing past you to the kitchen, clearly letting it drop. You took a moment to catch your breath before following him, finding him hunched over looking into your barren refrigerator. 

“Where’s all your fuckin’ food?” he snapped, straightening back up with a huff when he heard you come in behind him.

“Didn’t get a chance to shop this week, Si,” you replied stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why?” he demanded, slamming the appliance closed before heading to your cabinets to do inventory there too.

“Paycheck was short again this week,” you answered, speaking quietly in hopes he wouldn’t look into it anymore than that. 

He angrily slammed a cabinet closed and leaned on his palms against the counter, head hung between his shoulders, “Your boss fuckin’ stiff you again?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, Simon–” you attempted to quell him.

“Not a big deal?” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter, making you flinch at the noise. You knew Simon would never, ever hurt you but his anger was something to behold nonetheless, “It is a big deal when you can’t even afford to fuckin’ eat!”

“Simon…” you whisper, anxiously picking at a string on your cotton shorts, “I wasn’t going hungry, I have like…ramen and stuff…”

He says your name through gritted teeth, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t afford proper groceries?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Si,” you mutter, “I-It’s my problem, not yours.”

He gives you a long, unblinking stare. His usual soft, puppy dog brown eyes now felt intimidating. One thing about Simon was that he never hid it when he was clearly upset with you. And knowing he was right now made you hang your head pitifully.

He moves suddenly, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a small stack of clean bills, slapping them on your countertop.

“Simon, no–” you attempt to reach out for them, willing him to take the money back.

He grabs your hand immediately, shoving the appendage away from the money, “You’ll take this and you’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some damn food or I’m going to go to the bar and wrap my fuckin’ hands around your boss’s throat until he coughs up your money.”

“You don’t have to do this, Simon!” you argue, exasperated, “Y-You don’t have to take care of me like this.”

“Yes, I fuckin’ do!” he counters, “You’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you exist on fuckin’ cup noodles until that shithead pays you properly, not when I can take care of you. Now stop arguing and put this in your wallet now.”

He used that damn Lieutenant voice, leaving no room for argument. You bit your lip and slowly picked up the bills from the counter.

“Thank you, Simon…” you whisper, clutching the money close to your chest as you offer him a wobbly smile.

“Shut up and go,” he huffs, though his voice is much softer and affectionate now. 

You turn on your heel and go to the table by the door, slowly taking the time to place the money safely inside. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You were so, so lucky to have someone in your life that did everything in his power to take care of you, to look after you and make sure you had food on the table. No one had ever cared about your well-being the way Simon did, and your heart felt incredibly full because of it. 

You could hear him still stalking around the kitchen, grumbling to himself in annoyance. He comes out of the kitchen, phone in hand, before he’s taking a seat on your old, creaky couch. His knee is bouncing up and down in that way it always does. It’s like he’s always a live wire, ready and waiting for something to happen.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, still standing by the table.

He grunts, shaking his head, “Orderin' dinner.”

“Oh,” you mumble, “What’re you getting?”

“Gettin’ from that breakfast diner you like,” he responds quickly, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t even like that place,” you giggle, “In the mood for a breakfast sandwich?”

“Not for me,” was his clipped response.

“What?” you whine, “Simon, don’t order me food!”

“Did you eat today?” he asks quickly, placing his phone on the table, clearly done with the order.

“I had cup noodles!” you point an accusing finger at him, “So yes!”

“That’s not real food,” he leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. End of conversation. 

You sigh, shaking your head. You debate continuing to pester him about it but you hear your washing machine begin to ring the jingle signaling the cycle is finished. You cast one last, unseen glare to the man on your couch before heading to the washer, methodically taking the now clean sheets out. 

You finish placing it in the dryer and turning the machine on, stepping back into the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Simon is on his feet in seconds and at the door before you can even react. When he slams the door shut, he holds the bag of food up for you to see, dropping it on the coffee table before taking a seat again. He resumes the same position, arms cross over his chest and eyes closed. 

“Are you tired?” you ask softly, taking the empty seat beside him. He hums in response, “You want to spend the night?”

“Guess so,” he responds after a few seconds, “You work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night,” you mumble, reaching for the bag of food, untying the knot so you can get inside, “I hate working Friday nights.”

“I can stop by tomorrow if you want,” he offers, finally opening his eyes.

You think it over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he sat in the bar on a busy Friday night, nursing a half-drunk bourbon, as he waited for you to get off, “I think it’ll be okay. Last week was fine.”

He simply stares at you in silence before sighing through his nose. But he doesn’t argue and you’re thankful for that. 

Simon’s been looking after you like this since you turned 18 and moved out on your own. There have been many, many days and nights that you’ve taken up his time and energy and as you grew older, you tried to do it less. He had an incredibly busy job and life and the last thing you wanted was to add weight onto his already heavy shoulders. 

The evening turned to night and before you knew it you had a full belly and leftovers to store in the fridge for breakfast. You folded your dried sheet and placed it in the hallway closet, acutely aware of the sound of Simon showering in your bathroom. 

It wasn’t a very big shower and you sometimes wondered what it looked like for him in there. Surely he had to hunch down to properly wash his hair and shoulders. But those thoughts always turned into something less than innocent. 

You imagined what he looked like, all wet. How big he surely looked in there, no doubt he would dwarf you. He would be able to easily crowd you in the corner, make it so you couldn't escape as he blocked the exit – not that you would want to escape. 

You slapped a hand against your forehead, shaking your head violently to rid yourself of those thoughts. You tugged a spare blanket out of the closet and slammed it closed, rushing to your bedroom to place it on your bed. 

Your cheeks burned with shame over having such unsavory thoughts about your best friend. As much as you liked to pretend that the crush you had on him when you were children had faded like typical puppy love, you knew your feelings were alive and well deep inside where you had pushed them when he rejected you when you were 14. 

It was just because you were so pent up, you convinced yourself, you would have those thoughts about any man that was inside your shower!

You crawled onto your side of the bed, flopping back into your pillow as you waited for him to come in. You completely ignored the throbbing between your thighs, a feeling you were more than used to by now. But your fingers itched to reach down, slip beneath the band of your shorts and touch your clit, the little bud throbbed so desperately that when you clenched your thighs together, a shiver would go down your spine. 

Just as you started to reach down, just to try and relieve the ache that settled there, the bathroom door opened. You yanked your hand back up and tried to look casual as you heard his heavy footsteps move towards the bedroom door.

He pushed the door open wider so he could come in, having to duck his head down to avoid hitting his head. He placed his towel in the laundry basket and slowly crawled into bed beside you, placing his pillow flat so he could comfortably lay down.

Some people may find it strange sleeping with him like this, but your couch was much too small for him and he would rather cut his own fingers off than make you sleep on the damned thing. It was old and so uncomfortable that it caused you to be sore if you sat on it for too long. Plus, you never felt uncomfortable having him in the bed with you like this. He was warm and safe and he always smelled like your grapefruit body wash after he showered. 

It made your heart thump in your chest, knowing he walked around the next day smelling like you. 

“Goodnight, Simon,” you mumbled, reaching over to turn your bedside lamp off.

He grunted quietly, rolling over so his back was facing you. You smiled in the dark and snuggled down into your own blanket, closing your eyes as well. 

The next morning, you woke up and the bed was empty. As usual. 

Even when he was home, Simon functioned off of the strict military schedule he’d been accustomed to for his many years in the military. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, tossing your blanket off of you. The floor was chilly against your bare feet, making you shiver. 

After going pee, you ventured out into the living room. Simon was lounging, quietly watching TV – the morning news, it seemed.

“Good morning,” you called. 

“Eat,” was all he replied, not even breaking his gaze off of the TV.

You purse your lips but do as you’re told – not because he said so, but because your stomach was painfully growling and the breakfast sandwich in the fridge sounded delicious. 

As you heated it up in the microwave, you hummed to yourself.

“I’m going to go to the store after I eat,” you called, “Do you want to come?”

“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”

“Oh,” you tried to hide your disappointment, “Will you be back tonight?”

“Probably not,” he responded, your disappointment only growing at that. 

The microwave beeped and you pulled your plate of food out, bringing it back to the living room to eat it beside him. He took up an absurd amount of space given how large he was and how small your couch was – but you didn’t mind being pressed up against him. You didn’t think he minded either because he never bothered to move away. 

You quietly ate your breakfast, finishing up just as the news segment ended. Simon stood, knees popping as he did, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet before pausing, looking around. 

“You leaving?” you ask, placing your plate on the table as you followed his lead, standing.

“Got to,” he mumbled, still glancing around, “Where’s my phone?”

“You leave it in the bedroom?” you offer.

He sighs and disappears down the hall for a split minute before returning, tucking the device into his pocket. He grabs his coat off the table by the door, slipping it on and zipping it up. You approach him by the door, watching him slip his boots on and tie them. 

“See you later, Si,” you say, trying your best to hide your disappointment at him leaving. 

You never wanted him to leave, always feeling painfully lonely without his presence in your home. Since he was gone for long periods so often, you liked to enjoy his company as much as you can when he’s home. But you would never be the type to ask him to stay when he couldn’t because you knew he would run himself ragged to keep you company even when he was exhausted and had other things to do on top of it. You never wanted to be a burden to him.

He straightens up, stomping his feet a couple times to make sure his boots were on fine. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. You wrap both arms around his middle and hug him tight.

“I’ll come by when I can,” he mutters, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead.

Then he’s gone, the door slamming closed and leaving you by yourself in the doorway, already feeling an emptiness that would remain until he returned. 

Just as you promised, you went out and bought groceries, courtesy of the money Simon had so kindly given you. You made sure you had some meat, fruit, and veggies, along with some canned goods. You made sure you didn’t buy cup noodles because he certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know you bought that since he was so vehemently against them being in your diet. 

When you got home, you put all the groceries away and quickly realized that you had some time to spare before you had to get ready for your shift at the bar. 

As you sit on the couch, mindlessly watching some random show you’ve seen a hundred times before, you suddenly realize you’re squeezing your thighs together. 

And your panties are feeling awfully sticky. 

Your body heats up as you find yourself cupping your breasts through your shirt and bra. But you quickly realize that’s doing nothing for you and you strip your shirt off, pulling the sports bra over your breasts to cup them without the fabric restriction. You sigh and relax into the couch as you pull and pinch your nipple, tugging them and rolling them beneath your fingers. Your thighs clench and rub together as you tease yourself. 

But you tire of that quickly, knowing you could do something that felt so much better. 

Your fingers tremble as you tug the button of your jeans open and kick them off, letting your panties go down with them. You take note of the fact the center is completely sticky and wet. God, how long had you been dripping into your panties like that?

You lean back on the couch, placing your feet on the cushions, letting your legs open nice and wide. Your folds flower open, embarrassingly wet and shiny. Your clit is hard and swollen between them and you can practically see the bud twitching. 

With two, shaky fingers, you reach down and swipe over the bud. Your entire body twitches at the contact and you sigh as you slowly circle it, using your own slick as lubrication. 

You bring a finger to your entrance, prodding at the stickiness there. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. Your pussy makes loud noises as you touch but it doesn’t really provide you much pleasure so you bring your finger back to your clit. 

You circle it, pinch it, and roll your fingers over it. You’re quietly moaning, lidded eyes hazy as you watch your fingers play between your thighs. It feels good, a warm feeling settling in your gut the more you touch yourself. 

But then the inevitable happens – it’s like you hit a wall. 

You whine in frustration, speeding up your movements to hopefully reach the edge that you know is right over the wall. But you don’t get any further, if anything you feel that warmth vanishing at an alarming rate. 

Tears sting your eyes, “No, no, no…” you beg no one.

You grit your teeth in frustration, yanking your hand away to watch your pussy clench and throb over nothing, drooling and dripping slick onto the couch. But you’re too frustrated to try anymore. 

You close your thighs and flop down onto the couch, letting a few tears escape.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly complain, slapping the couch out of frustration.

Your lamenting is interrupted by your phone going off. You look at it on the table and see it's the alarm you set to let you know to start getting ready. 

Great, you spent 45 minutes playing with yourself and still didn’t get any further than you had for the last 20-something years of your life. 

You were starting to think you should schedule an appointment with a doctor and find out if you were well and truly broken, but quickly decided against it. That would be fucking humiliating.

What would you say, “Hi, I can’t make myself orgasm and never have, please doctor, tell me if my vagina is broken?” Absolutely not. 

You collect your clothes from the living room floor and toss them in your laundry basket in your room before you take a very fast shower just to clean your own mess up. Then, you get dressed and ready for the shift you know is going to suck at the bar. 

At the door, you make sure you have your belongings. You turn out all your lights and lock the door behind you before setting off to the bar. 

It’s not a long walk, about 15 minutes away. But just the idea of stepping foot inside the bar fills you with dread. 

It was a little hole in the wall place, shady and seedy were the best ways to describe it. You got pretty good tips from the patrons most nights but your boss was the biggest piece of shit you’d ever had the misfortune of being in close proximity with. 

He had a very bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong and cutting his employee’s pay for no reason – or reasons he completely made up. Your last paycheck was short because he claims that you ‘got enough in tips to make up the loss’ – you didn’t. And when you argued, he threatened to fire you. 

You were already living in the cheapest flat you could afford; it was run-down and poorly maintained. But it was better than not having a roof over your head. And it was a fight to even get hired at the shitty bar you worked at now, you weren’t willing to go back to looking for work. 

So you simply bit your tongue and took what money you could get. It wasn’t the first time he did it and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

You got to work as soon as you clocked in, greeting your coworkers with a tense smile that they returned. Everyone was in the same boat as you, after all. No one would choose to work here unless they were down on their luck like you.

The night started slow, slower than usual for a Friday night. Despite the place looking like it was going to fall down around you and the occasional rat that scampered across the floor, the bar was actually kind of a hotspot. The alcohol was cheap and your boss never cut anyone off so patrons were free to get as sloshed as they wanted. 

That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly. 

Which is exactly what happened when the night inevitably picked up. More people came in, more drinks were ordered, and you were running around the place like mad to get drinks where they needed to be. 

You cast a glance to the clock behind the bar, sighing in relief when you realized you had 10 minutes left of this hell. 

You were sure you were a sight, clearly run ragged and ready to get the hell out of there and go home. Your feet were sore from the old, worn shoes you wore. They looked fine on the outside, cute, but the soles were worn down and provided absolutely no cushion. It was hell. 

“This goes to the corner table,” the bartender called over the loud voices of the bar. He was a nice guy, couldn’t be older than 20, but you honestly couldn’t even recall his name. 

You took the tray of shitty beer from the counter and quickly made your way to the corner table in the back, careful not to spill a drop. You placed the tray down and gave the guys at the table a charming smile.

“Here’s your drinks,” you said, placing a glass in front of all 4 of them. 

“Thanks, beautiful,” one of them slurred, given a drunken wink.

“Um, is there anything else you need?” you asked, ignoring his flirting, as you picked up the tray. 

“Maybe,” another one chuckled, leaning back in his seat, raking his eyes down your body. You wished you could crawl into a hole at the feeling of his gaze on you. Despite being fully clothed, it made you feel incredibly naked – like he could see through your clothes. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time a customer or two flirted with you. It was sort of a rampant problem in this bar, if you were honest.

“What is it you need?” you asked, wishing so badly you could just be free from the conversation. 

One of them pulled out a stack of money, waving it in front of your face, “I’ll tip you this if you show us your tits.”

Your cheeks burned hot in humiliation as the other three laughed and jeered. You shifted on your feet, tapping your fingers anxiously against the metal tray in your hands, envisioning yourself slamming it over their heads. 

“N-No thank you…I-I don’t think that would be appropriate,” you hope that they can’t hear the way your voice trembles over all the noise in the bar.

“Come on, sexy,” the one with the money grinned, licking over his teeth as his eyes narrowed on your chest, “Bet they’re real nice. C’mon, you need the money right? Why else would you be working at a place like this? Go on, just lift your shirt up and let us see them tits!”

“M-My shift is over, I really need to go,” you shakily smile and take a step back, “I-I hope you enjoy your night, boys.”

Your attempt to diffuse the situation and get out of it proved futile because when you attempted to flee, one of them clapped a firm hand around your wrist and tugged you forward. You stumbled on your feet, dropping the metal tray with a gasp, finding yourself nose to nose with one of them. The smell of alcohol was potent on his breath and it made your lip curl in disgust. You tried to tug yourself free of his grasp but his grip was too strong. 

The guy sitting on the other side of the one who had a hold on you reached over his buddy to yank the neckline of your shirt down, the cheap, worn material stretching with ease until it tore at the weakest point. You let out a horrified cry when your bra became visible to the group, all of them cheering and shouting degrading things right in your face. 

The one across the table reached down, you felt his hand against your breast through your bra and a lightning bolt of pure terror ripped through you. It was like everything happened in slow motion.

You could feel his thumb hook under your bra and start to tug, tears flooded your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You raised a hand and as hard as you could, slapped the one still holding you clean across the face. 

The entire table went still but his grasp loosened enough for you to turn on your heel and bolt as fast as you could into the staff room, covering your exposed bra with your arms as best you could. You passed one of your coworkers, her eyes wide in concern when she saw your state. 

She followed you into the staff room, closing the door quietly behind her. You stood in front of your locker, ripping it open as you attempted to collect your things but your mind was running too fast for you to actually make any meaningful movements.

Your coworker called your name and you paused.

“Hey, take a breath,” she whispered softly, placing a hand on your back. You realized you were hyperventilating. You attempted to level out your breathing, wiping the tears off of your cheeks only for more to replace them. 

“What happened?” she asked softly, “Do you want me to call someone? The police?”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond but only a little sob comes out. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. She looks nothing but sympathetic, softly patting your back and encouraging you to breathe deeply. 

The staff room door suddenly slams open, making both of you jump. Your boss storms in, completely red in the face and furious. 

“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker. 

She casts an apologetic look to you, squeezing your hand before she ducks her head and leaves the staff room. He slams the door behind her, locking it for good measure – leaving both of you alone. 

He advances on you faster than you can react, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you against the lockers. It hurts but you can’t get a noise past the grip around your neck. You blink back the tears that are still coming, trying to see him more clearly.

“Are you broke in the fuckin’ head?!” he screams, a volume that makes your ears ring. You wonder if the patrons can hear it outside, “You put your hands on a customer?!”

“Th-They put their hands on me first!” you defended yourself, hoarse and choked under his grip, “They touched me!”

He only looks more furious, eyes falling to your ripped shirt and exposed bra. He grabs one side of the already torn shirt and yanks, ripping it the rest of the way. Your eyes go wide and your first instinct is to kick him but you’re panicked and uncoordinated so it misses its mark.

“I don’t give a shit if they forced you over the table and fucked you!” he howls, spitting all over your face in his rage, “You better think fast and hard about how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand me?”

His grip tightens a bit more around your throat and you hastily nod, blubbering mindless apologies to try and appease him. He doesn’t look any less angry but lets you go nonetheless. Your knees are too shaky to hold you up so you slide down the lockers until you’re sitting on the dirty floor.

“You go out there and you apologize to them,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Or I’m going to fire you and you’re gonna be out on the fuckin’ streets, got it?”

You nod your head, holding back your sobs but can’t control the tears that fall down your cheeks. He sends you one last glare before turning back to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open. 

You’re left there, trembling on the floor and quietly crying to yourself. Your heart is racing and you’ve never felt more terrified and humiliated in your life.

The door opens again and you look up in horror at the idea of your boss coming back. But it’s your coworker again. 

She quietly crouches next to you and gives you a once over, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I-I have to apologize t-to them,” you manage to choke out. 

Her eyes widened, “No way! You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I can’t lose this job,” you sob, pressing the heel of your hands to your eyes as you cry, “I need this job. He says he’ll fire me if I don’t apologize!”

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go with you, okay? You can apologize and then you can go, that’s it.”

You nod your head and stand up, using the lockers as a crutch. Your coworker helps you steady yourself before she sees your shirt is ripped even more than when she left.

She whispers your name, “Are you sure he didn’t…”

“He only ripped it,” you assure her, sniffling softly, “But I can’t go out there like this.”

It dawns on you that you forgot a jacket. It was a little warmer today than it had been in days and you had simply neglected to bring one. 

“You can borrow my hoodie,” she assures, opening her locker to tug it out, handing it to you, “Go on, you can return it to me another day.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, clumsily sliding it over your head. You feel much better now that you’re covered up, you feel less vulnerable. You quickly collect all your belongings so you can leave as soon as you get this over with.

You let her lead you out of the staff room. The second you’re out, the blaring noise immediately proves to be too much. You wipe your eyes, using the sleeve of the hoodie. You make a note to wash it properly when you return it. 

You feel the eyes of strangers on you and it just makes you feel worse with every passing second. You want to go home. You want to shower. You want to crawl into bed. You want Simon. 

You let her lead you to the table, all the men are still there laughing and drinking their beers. They fall silent when you approach, four pairs of eyes falling on you, making you feel humiliated and small. They look expectant, the one who ripped your shirt tapping his fingers against the table. 

“There you are!” the one who had held your wrist grinned. It was a predatory smile that made your heart race anxiously, “Thought you were gonna run away without apologizing for bein’ a raging bitch.”

You flinch at the insult and your coworker squeezes your hand in support, “I-I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“That’s fuckin’ right!” another one jeered, “Practically ruined our night. How are you going to make it up to us?”

“I’ve got a few ideas!” a different once laughed. The other three joined in eagerly.

“How about you stay back late and really make it up to us, huh?” you squeezed your coworkers hand in yours, already feeling the tears returning with a vengeance.

“How about I bring you a round on me, huh?” she quickly intervenes, “I’ll buy.”

That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.

“Go on home,” she says softly.

“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”

With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door. 

You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath. 

You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time. 

You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.

He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.

Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.

You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back. 

“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”

You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling. 

Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you. 

He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. 

The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.

His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap. 

You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table. 

You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street. 

“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.

Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”

“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”

He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots. 

You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”

“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep. 

“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated. 

You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad. 

Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands. 

But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off? 

“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.

Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.” 

True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself. 

He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.

He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known. 

Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave. 

You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.

“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response. 

He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”

You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.

He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”

He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.

You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.

“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.

“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained. 

“Alright,” is all he says in reply.

You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom. 

You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements. 

He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his. 

“Was it your boss?” he asks softly. 

“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore. 

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.

“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”

“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”

“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”

“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”

“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”

“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”

You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.

“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance. 

Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young. 

As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.

You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother. 

He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.

You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked. 

You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that. 

You never brought it up again. 

But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since. 

Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen. 

Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup. 

He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat. 

After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands. 

“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”

“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”

“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.

“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.

“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.

“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”

A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.

Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself. 

Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light. 

Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work. 

“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”

He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers. 

“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”

“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.

“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”

“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”

Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?” 

You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”

“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”

You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon. 

“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”

“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms. 

You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him. 

As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor. 

He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.

“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.

He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch. 

“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen. 

He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.

“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.

He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”

“Oh,” you respond. 

Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved. 

No, he doesn’t love you.

You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking. 

The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things. 

You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big. 

His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built. 

Handsome.

You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.

Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue. 

You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred. 

Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back. 

Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge. 

Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing. 

What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?

You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them. 

Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken. 

You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut. 

You fight back tears as you begin to wash up. 

By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.

“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.

“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”

“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him. 

You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought. 

Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk. 

When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.

But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it. 

Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly. 

He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you. 

You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan. 

“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place. 

Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes. 

“Si…” you whimper again.

“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”

He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that. 

You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.

If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him. 

Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed. 

You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry. 

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.

“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.

“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”

As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”

“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”

“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”

“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.

“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”

He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, ���Don’t worry about it.”

He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day. 

Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass. 

You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry. 

Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all. 

But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you. 

“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”

“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”

He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder. 

You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much. 

You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever. 

By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse. 

Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger. 

You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there. 

Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.

You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.

You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you. 

You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life. 

But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately. 

You wish that he loved you. 

You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep. 

Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you. 

A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.

You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight. 

You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.

I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there. 

He promised.

You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.

You hang up and try again. And again. And again.

He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.

You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you. 

But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him. 

Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry. 

You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts. 

You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it. 

Then you do it again. And again. And again. 

You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek. 

You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise. 

Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness. 

You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room. 

You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing. 

It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping. 

You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave. 

You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him. 

God, you hate him. 

He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway. 

He wanders further into the room before pausing. 

He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you. 

“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”

Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy. 

Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like. 

Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red. 

He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you. 

That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?

You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out. 

You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious. 

You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him. 

Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now. 

“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable. 

You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too. 

When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room. 

He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself. 

“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much. 

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!”

He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck. 

You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that. 

“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”

You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door. 

And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it. 

You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit. 

Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares. 

You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.

You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you. 

He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him. 

What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls. 

This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you. 

What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise. 

You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness. 

You cry all the time. Day and night. 

You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him. 

God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid. 

You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on. 

You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome. 

When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again. 

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore. 

Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month. 

You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear. 

Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to. 

You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope. 

The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar. 

You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is. 

You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back. 

You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it. 

“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.” 

“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”

“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”

“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking. 

“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”

You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”

“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”

“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.

“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”

Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself. 

“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”

His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”

You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in. 

When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel. 

You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day. 

The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold. 

You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time. 

So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left. 

As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet. 

You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself. 

You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope. 

Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep. 

But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do. 

Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake. 

So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever. 

You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it. 

You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open. 

You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else. 

Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.

Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway. 

He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat. 

“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room. 

He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”

“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was. 

“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”

You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go. 

But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed. 

Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go. 

After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”

You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”

“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds. 

He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach. 

“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.

“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap. 

You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”

“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed. 

You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”

Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.

“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it. 

You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat. 

When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged. 

You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done. 

You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen. 

He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well. 

It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls. 

You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.

You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone. 

You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread. 

He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over. 

He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even. 

His words ring out through your head like a bell. 

“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash. 

Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry. 

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts. 

“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”

You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.

“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”

You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”

Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”

All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”

“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”

“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”

For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again. 

“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”

Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time. 

The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away. 

Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now. 

With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on. 

But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.

“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.” 

He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”

His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it. 

Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is. 

“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”

“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees. 

Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly. 

You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes. 

“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”

You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.

You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you. 

When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself. 

A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”

“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”

Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”

As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place. 

You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.

You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more. 

When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.

“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”

You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response. 

As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again. 

But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air. 

You love him, you really do. 

But you’re still so angry at him. 

And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly. 

The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.

“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.

Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”

“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?” 

Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”

You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”

He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”

“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”

He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”

You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”

“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.

“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”

He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”

“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”

You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head. 

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”

He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.

“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”

“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”

He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”

He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.

“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.

“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”

“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto. 

He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place. 

“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?” 

You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated,  sad and utterly confused. 

You wished he would stop leaving. 

You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait. 

You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has. 

The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep. 

“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.

Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague. 

You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”

You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”

You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.

He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.

PART TWO.

do not modify, translate, or repost.

[yanderenightmare]

Thinking about Alpha Bakugou using the internet to find out how to calm down his terrified little omega darling during mating <3

I love this idea!!! Because you just know he stumbles upon the worst most subjugating blog post, written by the most pompous Alpha-dirtbag out there – degrading Omegas, talking down about them as though they’re but silly childish things in dire need of an Alpha’s help. 

And you know Bakugou’s egocentric enough to eat all that self-serving shit right up like it's gospel.

BNHA ! FIC

Alpha ! Bakugou Katsuki x Omega ! darling

WC: 3.2

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, omegaverse, yandere, marking/biting, blood, subjugation + a little angst in the end

Five Steps for Alphas Mating Omegas

Step 1. Step one is simple: Talk Remember, Omegas, though a little wild and chaotic, are equally influential, sensitive, and weak to not only an Alpha's orders but our compliments, confessions, and encouragement as well. Just a few simple sweet nothings can warm an Omega’s core even when confused and stressed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, puppy~” Katsuki made sure to mouth against your neck while sucking the skin full of blooming bruises.

His large warm hands, kept like a belt around your waist, messaged the soft skin with restraint – having slipped beneath your top to feel you directly. His back hunched and hips fighting to keep from humping – feeling his mouth water and the growing bump in his pants start to ache – getting drunk with all the right overwhelming instincts, sniffing until his nose stuffed full of that sweet Omega scent.

He’s always known what you are. Way before your scores ever confirmed it. He’s been able to smell it off you ever since you grew tits – and been able to tell long before that simply by the way you scurry around with those big puppy-dog eyes of yours. 

The ones you’re looking up at him with right now.

“Katsuki…” You whined, and he grunted – head too hot to formulate any other response – only getting rowdier the more he lapped at the sheen of sweat coating your flesh.

It’s always been obvious that the two of you would wind up as mates – you’ve been imprinting on each other since you were both in diapers.

Even so, he hasn’t found making you trust and accept him easy over the years.

You’ve always regarded him with that very Omega-like uneasiness – looking up at him through your lashes with your shy fluttering eyes – a little pout on your lips and a little hitch in your breath each time he makes a move.

You’re too cute like that. Making him so fucking horny.

“Katsuki?” You whined again – this time more urgently, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Giving a reluctant groan, he smacked off your neck for only a second – huffing out a rushed “Yeah?” before returning to your neck. Working the skin – making it warm and numb to take his bite.

“Can we- can we wait?” You managed to force through the anxiety making your throat snug under the threat of his canines – a mix of pleading and shame evident in your meek voice where you felt smothered beneath the mass of him.

“Wait?” He questioned with a small laugh, though otherwise ignoring you – his lips still mouthing your neck and cheek with damp hot breaths – greedy hands climbing further up under your shirt, high enough to start playing with the lace of your bra.

“Just a little while?” You urged. “Please, Katsuki? Just a couple days?” Lip quivering and brows knotted as you tugged on his shirt, trying for his attention.

He pulled off your neck yet again, this time with an audibly annoyed groan – his red eyes soaked with hunger and focus. “Why?” He asked, visibly trying his own best to consider your concern, albeit begrudgingly where his hair had become sweaty in the wait.

“I'm not ready… can we please wait?” You begged, your big doe-eyes wet with the beginning of tears, searching for any ounce of pity he had to spare – doubtful but hoping he would listen.

You’re a little silly sometimes, he thought. What do you think he’s been doing all this time except wait?

He tsked, looking at your cute face torn with timidity and nerves – thinking silliness couldn’t be helped. 

You’re an Omega, after all. 

He gave your pout a kiss of assurance but otherwise offered little other comfort – hoping the small effort would be enough to calm you. “You’re ready, puppy. Believe me.” He encouraged, once again slipping down to your neck – thinking if he found your soft spot, he could lick all your uncertainty away and unlock that domestic spirit he knew lived inside you.

But you weren’t so easily soothed – no longer just reluctant but protesting now. “No- please, Katsuki-” You insisted – your hands raising to pull on his shirt, even when knowing full well what little it would do.

“Puppy~ you couldn’t be more ready.” He insisted, trying to keep his voice soft and comforting. Gently prying your hands from his shirt and lifting them above you. “You just need to trust me.”

“No, no, no, please, please, please wait- Katsuki, please.” You shook your head with a sniffle, eyes squeezing shut with teeth sinking into your lip – trying hard to keep from sobbing even as your voice wobbled in the hysterics. “Just a couple of days- please?”

Katsuki started feeling defeated in his tactics, looking over your face twisting with panic and dread, hearing you beg while feeling the fight in your fists grow more adamant, trying to pry themselves out of his hold. 

It was time to give up on step one and move on.

Step 2. This step is for when the first step doesn’t work: Tie your Omega up It might sound harsh, but it’s actually in everyone’s favor. Tying up your Omega benefits and prevents a lot of uncomfortable situations during mating. For example, they won’t be able to scratch and claw, and you won’t have to use your strength and potentially hurt them when trying to calm them down. If your Omega is especially wild, it might be a good idea to gag them as well in order to keep them from biting back.

He didn’t want to have to do it this way, Katsuki told himself. He wanted you to accept it as a yielding Omega should – and where he had expected you to be a little anxious, he certainly hadn’t thought you’d be so brazen as to fight him on it.

But he guessed it couldn’t have been helped, pulling the cotton rope he’d kept ready in his pant pocket – bringing it up to the small hands he had pinned to the pillow right above your head.

“I’m sorry, puppy. I have to do this.” He mumbled, starting to loop the soft thread around your conjoined wrists while holding them down. 

“What- no-” Your eyes peeled open from withholding tears, growing wide when looking above you. “No, Katsuki- please don’t tie me up.” You started then, now with salted streams running freely down your cheeks. “Please- I’ll be good, I promise-”

“Sh-sh-sh, puppy-” He soothed, placing his lips on your forehead, tying one secure cross-knot after the other before fastening them to the bedpost in a neat bow. “It’ll hurt either way. This is so it doesn’t hurt more than it has to.” 

He tried reasoning with you, but you wouldn’t listen – further spiraling into a complete panic with endless prayers rushing past your sorry lips. “Please untie me, Katsuki, please- please don’t do this- please-”

“It’s for your own good, puppy.” He dismissed – holding your face in both hands in an attempt to try and keep you from shaking.

“No- please, don’t do this-” You sobbed in spite of his efforts.

And in the failure of trying to lull you, he really didn’t know of any better way than what he said next. “If you keep screaming, I’ll have to gag you as well.”

And you went still.

And he realized a little too late how he’d growled it threateningly like a bark – left to watch how your pout quivered silently after – your twitchy button-nose and watery red eyes such a terrible twist to his heart where you looked so undeniably pained and betrayed whilst terribly pitiful whimpers left you, sniffling and hiccupping with hitched breaths escaping you in trembles.

He tried comforting you with yet another kiss to your forehead, maintaining the smoothness of his tone so as not to further scare or upset you. “I didn’t wanna have to do it this way…” He mumbled softly, rubbing his thumb against your cheek in hopes you would nuzzle into his palm, but only succeeding in smearing tears. “But you’re not really leaving me much choice here, puppy...”

Step 3.  Keep eye contact Omegas are a neurotic and forgetful breed. Keeping eye contact will help them stay calm, especially when you’re trying to soothe them. For example, assuring them that you’re not going to hurt them. Additionally, explaining why and what you’re doing can help an Omega understand and therefore ease their worry.

“I’ll be gentle with you, I promise.” He vowed, keeping your face cupped in one hand while letting the other fall back down to grip your waist, feeling your breath quicken beneath it while watching the anxiety widen your eyes even further. “Look at me, puppy.” He distracted, fishing your gaze up from looking down at the threatening tent in his pants. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

You tried finding solace in his words but didn’t find it much comforting upon the sight of his fangs – reminded of how he was going to sink them inch-deep into your neck.

“I’m not ready-” You repeated once like before, eyes swirling while looking deeply into his, trying to latch onto anything that might take pity enough to listen to you.

But it didn’t seem like any amount of your pleading words or teary trembling features was enough to reach him. “It’s okay, puppy~ I’ll help you get ready~” Is what he answered instead – nose nuzzling against yours in his own attempt at convincing you. “I’m gonna make you feel really good…”

You weren’t swayed, feeling ignored and suffocated and overwhelmed because of it. “But-” You tried again, only to once again get cut off.

“Shh- stop thinking so much.” He shushed you, still with his thumb rubbing gently over your cheek. “Listen to me, puppy. You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?” 

The question was left hanging without an answer for a moment longer than what he was comfortable with – his brows furrowing at the way your eyes skittered to avoid contact with his – feeling something twist in his chest at how you shifted uncomfortably beneath him.

“Right?” He repeated a beat later, his red eyes big and searching while vying for your gaze – gutted when you looked further away to escape it.

The quiet that followed felt strangling, and he had to swallow thickly to prevent choking on it. 

He thought you trusted him more, but your silence spoke loudly. Suddenly he felt like what he was doing was something much worse than what it was… 

He’s only doing this to help you, but you’re treating it like he’s committing a callous crime.

He knows he’s not always been the best mating material, but he’d thought you’d seen the change in him the last year.

But… you’re still terrified of him, aren’t you?

He exhaled a breath he’d been holding and resumed the normal pace. “I love you, puppy.” Once again, he brushed the well of tears forming beneath your eyes away with the stroke of his thumb – as the other hand continued its path, now moving downwards, over your skirt, until brushing your naked and trembling thigh. “You know that.” He spoke in a tone devoid of brass, simply tender yet hot, brushing your lips with his. “I’ve always loved you.”

You made unsure sounds but kept any words to yourself – unable to deny how his confessions made your cheeks heat, yet still left feeling dubious – lashes fluttering upon downcast eyes, feeling the rough fissures of his warm fingertips brush upwards, hiking your skirt up in its path until fingering the dainty lace of your panty line.

“All I want is to keep you safe.” He murmured, now in a damp whisper smeared wet against your neck, where he returned like before, kissing the same spot while searching for the place that would make you weak. “I’d never hurt you…” 

His finger curled around the lace kept at your hip, and your fingers curled into your palms – knuckles whitening and joints aching in your trembling fists when he began pulling the dainty article down your thigh.

“But-” You couldn’t help but plead, feeling the air ride under your skirt to lick your exposed private – but the protest was left unvoiced as the hand kept on your cheek locked over your mouth instead.

“Shh-” Katsuki continued, his mouth and lips and tongue and teeth lathering your neck with growing desperation – a breathy growl in his voice now as the hand kept between your legs grew clammy from the heat. “No more buts and don’ts. No more silly fears.” He swallowed thickly to keep from drooling, sucking in a breath. “I promise, puppy, you’ll feel a lot better after letting me do this.”

Step 4.  Next to last: Put yourself in your Omega’s shoes It’s important to remember that Omegas feel things differently than Alphas. While we smell sweet and fertile Omega pheromones, they smell threatening Alpha pheromones. Moreover, being smaller and weaker than your mate can't be easy. It’s natural for them to feel scared and hopeless. And as an Alpha, it’s your responsibility to ensure your Omega feels safe, protected, and taken care of.

Your whimpers buzzed against his palm as he cupped your sex with the other, his thick fingers stroking the tender puff of pussylips there, feeling the softness with curiosity.

“I know, puppy.” He soothed in a strained whisper. “You’re scared, you’re confused, you’re tired.” His breath getting heavy when delving between the folds to feel the wet heat there, needing to bite his tongue to keep from growling out a curse. “It must be exhausting being on alert every day… acting like something you’re not.”

You trembled, tasting the salt of his hand on your tongue where muffled cries failed to reach him – thighs quaking around the thick arm prying them apart – breaths erratic, feeling his fingers touch and explore and play in the slick found there.

“I wanna help you, puppy…” He insisted – but the smirk inching up his face wasn’t convincing, nor the way you felt it graze your throat like a knife. “I’ll make you feel so soft and safe- I promise, puppy.”

Step 5. Finally: Find the soft spot and bite it Keep in mind that you’re not saving or helping anyone by not claiming your Omega. Despite how much they might be crying or begging you to stop, marking them will only help them in the end.

Panic made you feel inclined to bite the hand smothering you and kick the weight which had you trapped – but something more instinctual made your body burst open like a blooming flower as his lips finally found that terribly delicate spot, the one hidden just beneath your ear.

You gave a moan and felt everything unknot, smoothing out into something numb and mellow – into something which welcomed his mouth and the promise of teeth within it.

“There you go, puppy~” He hummed, feeling you go slack and cuddly, turning into something even softer beneath him. “Just like I promised~”

He lifted his hand from your mouth, watching you pant in heat – having turned into something all too vulnerable – eyebrows cinched, and spit-slicked lips parted with soft moans while his fingers swept through your slit, rubbing circles into your budding clit – making your hips timidly buck back in chase of the pleasure. 

“We’re gonna be perfect, puppy~” He purred, mouth still hooked onto that same spot that had you feeling all manors of fluffy – while his own hips stuttered in restraint as his other hand dove down alongside the other in order to unzip his own pants. “No more pills and suppressants- no more holding back-”

He tugged himself free, pushing his pants and boxer down to where he knelt – letting loose a long hefty sigh of relief against your neck while stroking himself against your cunt. Exchanging hands to rub himself with your wetness – breath stuttering with a groan – getting ready to enter you while his teeth sharpened for blood.

“Every time you get you’re little bellyache, I’ll breed you good and full…”

He pressed inside you in the same moment his teeth bit into your neck – swiftly, yet slowing, sinking in as deep as possible with ears too hot to hear you scream.

Large paws squeezed even tighter into plush handfuls of flesh, drawing claws at the blinding taste of blood rushing out of freshly split skin, pouring into his receiving mouth where a full eclipse occurred in his mind, making him go fully feral.

Benefits of the bite:  - their ruts/heats won’t affect anyone other than you (meaning they’ll permanently stop being a target to other Alphas) - moreover, regarding ruts/heats, they’ll feel grateful for having someone they can always trust to help them at that vulnerable time of the month - they’ll become more domestic, feeling safer and happier for it - and because of the above, they’ll be less prone to stress and fear (all of which will improve their mental health) - additionally, the newfound sense of safety and loyalty will indict maternal instincts (making them more joyed over the idea of having pups) - furthermore, having pups will give them a sense of purpose and drive (allowing them to finally feel complete)

His senses came back to him slowly as the wild rush of blood died down – leaving him cold – feeling your limp body lay weak in his arms – barely breathing – if one could at all call it such and not whispy whimpers which left you at the labored rise and fall of your withering chest.

The blood was everywhere.

Sticky on his face and chest and hands, and redder than he could’ve imagined – coated thickly on your skin – gushing in wild flows from the gaping wound he’d ripped open on your neck.

He'd lost control.

His breath shuddered, dry in his throat – which croaked when he tried opening his mouth. “You’ll be okay, puppy-” His hands shook – speaking as if trying to convince himself more than you – unsure if you could even hear him. “It’ll be okay-” 

Tired eyes seemed too heavy to stay open, with a glazed gaze that stared straight passed him – vision spotted and darkening quickly, fuzzy and just too slipping to hold onto.

You could only hum weakly as everything became blanketed – his voice giving way to an echo of unstable curse words and muted utterings of your name – soon to become simple shapeless sounds in the lulling void that enveloped your mind.

With every sense laying to rest, a sudden foreign warmth coaxed you to give in – to let yourself be smothered in something which felt akin to sleep yet seemed somewhat heavier – luring you away from the blurring sight of red eyes and red-stained skin and into the quiet comfort of dreamy drowning darkness.

tip-jar: Kofi

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Love you Carol! I'm obsessed with your Miguel stories!

Please these two scenarios won't leave my head.

1) Hot Shower sex with Mr. O'Hara, he always promise he'll be on his best behavior when both of you are showering you take turns soaping each other up but Miguel is mischievous he starts to kiss your neck, grope your chest, squeezing your ass.....and damn you fold...you fold so hard. You can't help but succumb to his advances. Next thing you know he's fucking you senseless as the warm water cascades down both of your skin. The bathroom steamy from the hot water 💦🚿❤️

2) It's your first time having Sex with Miguel, your nervous this is your first boyfriend, ever. Miguel knows that your nervous but assures you that everything is going to be all right. Your hot and fluster as he finishes teasing you he shows us "his weapon" and you can't help but think that something that big won't fit in such tiny hole.

"Will it fit?"

"I'll make it fit."

🍆❤️💦🥵😋

1.)

You had one of those glass-door showers.

It was difficult showering when Miguel was around. He never behaved. Even when he promised you that he would. It was always a bluff.

Your crystalline bathroom left little to the imagination, the steam from your hot showers coating the glass in thick fog—the only barrier between Miguel and your nakedness.

“Let me help you.” He’d say as he stepped in, his enormous frame dwarfing you in your little glass box of a shower.

You’d allow him to lather you up with your sweet-smelling soap, letting his large hands glide over your wet skin. But the touches always led to other activities.

You’d allow that too after some coaxing, feeling his length slide between your folds before he’d slowly push you toward the shower wall, your chest pressed flat against the glass as he fucked you nice and slow.

…

2.)

You were a nervous little thing.

You trembled as you laid on Miguel’s bed, your eyes trained on his weeping cock.

You were nervous about your first time, but you knew you wanted it to be with no one else but Miguel. He was a patient man, never rushing you or forcing you into a compromising position.

You wanted it to be special, and so did he. So he took you to dinner, a nice restaurant with great food, before taking you back home.

Now you were on his bed, his satin sheets drowning you as you continued to stare at his hard cock, standing to attention.

“W-will it fit?” You asked him worriedly, watching his with large eyes as he settled between your legs. He took himself in hand, swiping the tip through your soaking folds.

“Don’t worry, chiquita,” he mumbled with lidded eyes, “I’ll make it fit.”

[bumblebeehug]

Lovely Seasons - Winter

Summary: Lucy has the worst morning known to human kind, until Natsu comes to her rescue. Notes: If you're wondering where Happy is during all of this, no you don't. Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 of the Lovely Seasons series Ao3

***

Lucy slowly sat up, blinking and rubbing out the crust that had appeared in her eyes during the night. A tired yawn managed to escape her lips before she could check the clock. 7:30 in the morning. She groaned to herself. She fell asleep late last night, not being able to drop the book she was reading, and barely getting 6 hours of sleep made her feel cranky. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the sun wouldn’t rise in another two hours and the temperature outside made her house feel colder than usual. It was an abnormally cold winter, rarely rising above -10 degrees Celsius, and due to her not paying enough rent last month, the landlady had cut down on her heating. Usually that would be fine, since Magnolia’s weather was quite warm most of the time, but without the blessings of a merciful winter and without her human heater constantly hanging around, the apartment got ruthlessly cold.

In an attempt to properly wake up she placed her bare feet on the floor. Leaving the warm comfort of her bed was unappealing to say the least, and feeling the coldness against the soles of her feet made her cringe. Without bothering to put on slippers or socks, she hurried to the bathroom. A warm, long shower was the only salvation this morning could have. As she entered the bathroom she once again regretted the lack of socks, since the tiled floor was multiple times colder than the wooden floor in her bedroom. With goosebumps all over her body she sped up her movements, turning the knob in her shower to the highest heat.

Another mistake, she soon learned. After having stripped down she felt the water with her hand, and the dropping temperature of the high streaming water only meant one thing - the hot water had run out, rapidly changing to cooler and cooler degrees.

“No, no, no!” In an attempt to savour the last bit of barely comfortable water, she immediately jumped in the shower, focusing on just wetting her hair so she could pour shampoo into it and rinse it out before she turned to an actual ice block. No matter if this day seemed to have everything against her, she was determined to get clean - even if that meant cutting down her shower time from 45 minutes to 5. Every muscle got stiff as she hurried to lather her hair, and breathing became a chore for her frozen body. Even concentrating to the fullest, she felt the lungs move in spasms.

Lucy had never been good with the cold. Not even after living on the streets for a year after running away from home, had she gotten used to the fierce sensation of getting robbed off her body heat. On the other hand, warm weather had never been a challenge. Anywhere with a hot climate was the ideal vacation spot for her, since she’d much rather sweat like a pig than not being able to feel her hands and feet from being so cold. Maybe her body’s natural agreement with warmth was one of the reasons she and Natsu got along so well. Though, given that he wasn’t here to heat up the apartment at the moment, he wasn’t on her best side currently.

As soon as she felt the lathered shampoo leave her hair completely, she turned off the tap and practically pounced her fluffy towels. From the last few weeks she had learned that any body part left wet would be freezing cold if she didn’t wipe herself dry the second she came out of the shower. She was in fact so fast at drying herself off and getting clothed today that she probably beat a personal record - and luckily for her, she could still use her hair dryer, so no cold, wet, dripping down her back today.

Though, just as things were starting to look up, she encountered yet another problem as she stepped out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. The dishwasher hadn’t gotten turned on last night, so she had to hand wash her cup before using it, which usually was a manageable job, but that became tedious now that she had no warm water. To add to that, she was fully out of oatmeal which meant that she’d have to go out to buy more when the stores opened in a few hours. Even if she didn’t have to plough through snow, the strong winds and the frosty air was more than enough to go through even her thickest, warmest jacket, and if she were to actually arrive at the market, there was no telling if they’d be open today. A lot of fresh fruit didn’t handle the cold well, and anything tightly sealed into glass bottles would likely expand and explode if they didn’t stay inside.

Since Lucy had nowhere close to enough energy to deal with that now, she decided to grab her kettle, make it across the kitchen towards the stove, and OUCH!

“Shit, crap, fucking ass- fuckhorse!!” Lucy howled as she jumped around on one leg, trying to get her big toe on her second leg to stop pulsing. “There’s no fucking way this is happening to me today!” She stumbled across the room once again, this time aiming for the kitchen table so she could sit down and inspect the injury. The kettle was forgotten the second she put it down, and she immediately threw off her slipper and her sock that she had properly remembered to put on after the shower..

Just her luck. She was bleeding under her toenail, which meant weeks of taking care of this insignificant but maddening injury. Wendy was about as locked inside as Lucy was, so no magical cure for this one. At this point she was holding back tears. Nothing could have prepared her for how unlucky she was today. Yesterday had been a good day, same as most of her previous days, where she enjoyed the stillness of being alone with her own thoughts in her apartment. No jobs or missions to rush to, no worrying about destruction and lack of payment, no Natsu to burn her couch and no Happy to scratch her walls. She ate good meals, played music and danced, and now this - no heat, no warm water, no clean dishes, out of her favourite breakfast and now an injured toe. It felt like the spirits were against her. The mixture of exasperation and exhaustion made her throat thicken, and the pressure from holding back tears made her head hurt. It was still early in the morning, and she already wanted to go back to bed and sleep until the next day - or better, she could sleep until spring and skip the depressing gray life that came with the winter months.

As Lucy’s nose started getting stuffy, an angel sailed down from heaven and sang the most beautiful melody known to the human race. Well, no, her doorbell rang, but it was practically the same thing, because she sensed from the reckless stomping up the hallway that her hot headed best friend had decided to come to visit.

“Lucy? Ya home?” Normally his cheery voice would feel like a punch to the gut after having a bad day, since any sign that people could live happily while bad things happened only to her, would feel like mockery. Today however, she was just glad to no longer be alone with this dull atmosphere dragging her down.

She hurried to the door, not without limping a bit, to unlock it for him. As the door swung open, Lucy couldn’t stop her lip from quivering, threatening to burst out into tears just from seeing his face. She was so, so, happy he was here.

Natsu himself however felt his grin fade the moment their eyes met.

“Hey, what’s the matter? Did anything happen? What’s goin’ on?” Lucy barely noticed him dropping off two grocery bags by the entry, before he gently grabbed her arms. The tender look in his eyes was the final blow for her - she felt so angry and sad at the world, yet she had never felt so seen and cared for as she did when Natsu came. The dam was broken and the waterfalls were set loose, and she was hiccuping and hulking like a child failing to communicate its emotions.

“My… my…” she began, “My toe huuurts” She couldn’t stop herself from crying out, unable to form any other words to explain her out of place behaviour.

“What?”

“My- my- my thoe-” With sobs cracking through her voice it was hard to talk any clearer, but luckily for her she didn’t have to explain any further.

“Oh my god- Lucy, you’re bleeding! Hey- come here.” With a swift motion he scooped her up from her feet, immediately heading for the bathroom. “How did things end up like this?” He wasn’t expecting an answer - not yet anyways. Inside of the bathroom he sat her down on the toilet lid, immediately tending to the swollen toe.

At the same time Lucy was trying to collect herself. It was embarrassing enough that she had broken down like this in front of him, but now he probably thought she was weeping over a stubbed toe. It really wasn’t fair, she thought, because she wasn’t crying because of her frustration. She was incredibly happy right now, to have Natsu there to help her cope with her unfortunate day. If he had caught her just a moment earlier she wouldn’t have broken down like that - she’d be upset and short tempered, sure, but nothing like this.

Thanks to her manual breathing, she calmed down significantly. Not enough to actually stop the consistent flow of tears, but now she wasn’t gasping for air in panic anymore.

“Thanks for helping me,” Lucy sniffled. “And sorry for scaring you.”

Natsu, who just finished putting a bandaid around the now purple nail, looked up at her with a gentle smile.

“No worries. Stuff happens, right?” Though his words told her that he was fine not knowing what was going on, his face was clearly searching for the explanation to her behaviour.

“Well,” a sob slipped out, “I guess it does.” She wanted to tell him about her morning, she really did, but right now she just wanted to get comfortable and warm in her bed. Truth is, she really wanted Natsu to lay beside her - not only for the heat, but for the comfort of human contact as well.

“Wanna check out what I got for you?” It took a brief moment before Lucy understood he meant the grocery bags that almost were forgotten in her hallway.

“Does anything have to go in the fridge or the freezer?”

“No… Why?” He stood up from his squat, cleaning up the small mess he had made rummaging through her cupboards.

“Then… Can we rest for a minute?” Lucy took a square of toilet paper to wipe her tears. “I don’t have any energy to… do stuff right now.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem. Can you walk fine?” Lucy nodded, the toe wasn’t that injured - she had gone through way worse, though those times her body was pumped with adrenaline. Natsu helped her up anyway, held her close to him as they headed to the bedroom. Lucy might not be hurt physically, but she rarely broke down to this extent emotionally, so of course he was still worried.

“Isn’t it kinda cold in here?” He always thought Lucy’s apartment felt colder whenever he hadn’t been there in a while, but wasn’t this way colder than usual?

Lucy didn’t answer. She only had one goal ahead of her, and that was to get into those sheets and get some well deserved rest. Besides, she could tell him all about her day later, they weren’t in a rush. So as soon as she could she crawled up on her soft bedding, and without a moment of hesitation, she dived in under the comforter. She had her back turned towards Natsu, but before shutting her eyes, she turned slightly and lifted the duvet, giving a clear invitation for Natsu to join her. The mattress sunk behind her as he laid down, shuffling closer and embracing his position as the bigger spoon.

“The landlady cut off the heating a few days ago. That’s why it’s cold here,” Lucy explained, her voice cracking meekly. Natsu pulled her closer, making sure his body heat warmed up the bed for her. He properly felt bad for her - clearly the cold and the stubbed toe weren’t the only reasons why she cried, so she probably had a really bad day overall. Whether or not she had been having nightmares or bad memories from her past, or if built up sorrow and anger just let loose, he didn’t know, but he knew that Lucy would tell him when she was ready to. His hand reached over her upper body in search of hers, and as he found it he gave it a supportive squeeze.

“That’s not all though,” she continued after a deep breath, “I also barely got any sleep last night. Totally my own fault, cause I went to sleep really late, but the cold made me unable to sleep in.” She spoke softly and rubbed her thumb across the palm of Natsu’s hand. “And then I went to take a shower, except the warm water had run out.”

“So you took a cold shower? You? Lucy Heartfilia, master of turning up the heat until not even I can stand it?” Chuckles filled his lungs, because he really found it ironic. Understandably annoying and upsetting for Lucy of course, but ironic nevertheless.

“Yes, and you bet I’ll never do that again. It felt worse than getting in the middle of a fight between Gray and Lyon. Look, my fingernails are still purple!” She shoved her free hand up in his face, attempting to display the cold, stale fingertips, but accidentally smashing them against his cheek in the process. After a quick apology, she continued. “As if that wasn’t bad enough though, my dishwasher didn’t start last night, so all my dishes are dirty, which wouldn’t be a huge problem if I didn’t start washing them in that cold water, only to learn that I’m out of oats!”

Remembering her streak of unluckiness made her heart drop slightly again, but surprisingly she had already gotten in a better mood. As she shared her burdens with Natsu, she felt a weight lifted from her chest. She even got in a good enough mood that she could initiate chuckling at her mishaps.

“Hold on a minute,” Natsu intervened, “didn’t I tell you only last week not to delay grocery shopping?” They had already been through a similar scene where Lucy had procrastinated going outside for so long that she started using normal hand soap on her body instead of her usual body wash.

“I knooow,” Lucy grumbled, “but it’s so cold out! You know I don’t have proper clothing for this weather! And I have plenty of food for lunches and dinners, just not for breakfast…” She tried to defend her actions, but she knew Natsu was right. Laziness would always come back to bite her in the back if she didn’t deal with things properly.

“Good thing I know you too well.” Natsu had a smug grin plastered on his face, the type of grin she’d usually want to wipe off with a kick. Overconfident Natsu wasn’t pleasant to hang out with, mostly because he got them into trouble when he acted like that. Today however, he looked like a saint. “I went shopping yesterday and thought you could use some food to stock up on.”

“No, you didn’t.” She turned so she laid on her back, head facing Natsu. She tried to look for any sign that he was pranking her, without any luck. “You bought oats?” He nodded proudly, teeth flashing through his cheeky smile. “Thank you.” She dug her face into his chest, hugging him as tightly as she could.

“But I bet the lack of oats didn’t make your toe explode, so how did you get hurt?” Even though Natsu suspected that he had an understanding of what had happened, he wanted to hear it from her.

“I stubbed it really hard against the leg of the kitchen table when I went to boil some water,” she explained with a muffled voice. There was really nothing more to it, which kind of felt embarrassing now that she had said it out loud. She knew she was blushing, but since Natsu couldn’t see it she didn’t mind.

“I guess I came at the perfect time,” Natsu joked, now taking the liberty to rub Lucy’s arms up and down.

“You really did. Thanks.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze, giving him a thankful smile before going back to hugging him. See, what they were doing right now was weird. As in, actually odd behaviour considering their relationship. Except, despite acting weird, Lucy found great comfort in the warm touches of Natsu’s hands, which still roamed her chilled body. She would never allow this to happen if the circumstances were different, because friendship simply couldn’t cross those lines. It would only end in disappointments when she learned that he didn’t feel the same way. Today though, she just wanted to indulge in their overly close relationship. Just their torsos touching didn’t even feel like enough, so she gathered some courage and moved closer. Playing it off as an attempt to warm her feet, she tangled their legs together. Natsu didn’t have the heart to tell her that her cold feet felt incredibly uncomfortable against his calves, so he decided to persevere. After all, he knew his discomfort was far from what Lucy was experiencing, injured toe and all.

The air under the blanket was finally starting to heat up, making Lucy even more grateful for Natsu’s presence. He must’ve acquired some 6th sense that told him whenever she felt lonely - a Lucy-radar if you want, because he always managed to come to her exactly when she needed him. But no matter if it was thanks to supernatural senses or if it was just pure dumb luck, she was currently content enough in their situation that she had the courage to do things that she normally wouldn’t do. Her fingers took the liberty to trail his muscular arms, slowly following the dips and bumps that made out his figure. Natsu, who couldn’t say he was used to this bolder personality Lucy sometimes showed, got goosebumps from her touch. Nice goosebumps though, the type that leaves a warm feeling in his heart. And with Lucy touching him freely, he took the chance to caress her in return, his hands moving from her upper arms to her back and ribcage, then continuing down the curve where her waist dipped the deepest. Lucy’s breathing got slow and relaxed with every stroke he made, so instead of stopping at the small of her waist, he slowly continued the quiet exploration of her body, moving down to her hips and then her thigh. He suddenly felt a huge craving to grip the soft flesh that hid under her long pyjama pants, so he grabbed her leg and pulled it over his own, also making them move closer in the process.

Lucy, who had moved on from her previous place as well, was giving Natsu’s shoulder a light massage, stroking the stiff musculature. She hid further into the shirt that clothed his chest before she collected some courage to speak.

“Did you know?” She began.

“What?”

“In the Best Friends Rulebook, the first listed rule is that best friends must have clear boundaries when it comes to physical contact.”

“What a dumb rule. Who came up with that?”

“Everyone agrees on it. You wouldn’t want to be cuddling with Gray like this, would you?” A disgusted sound made its way out from Natsu’s lips. No, he definitely wouldn’t want that.

“You know it’s different with you,” he began, trying to defend their actions. He didn’t get further in his explanation though, as Lucy’s fingertips grazed the side of his neck.

“I know. But we can’t do stuff like this if we go by the Best Friends Rulebook. Though… there is a way to make it work.” Natsu waited silently in anticipation of hearing her solution. “We could change the rulebook.”

“Are we still talking about books?” Natsu asked. He knew what metaphors were and how they worked, but dragging them out like this made him lose the thread.

“No,” Lucy answered bluntly. “I’m talking about you and me.” She was incredibly happy he couldn’t see her face right now, because even though she felt like they were on the same page with their feelings for once in their lives, being this open with her emotions made her embarrassed, and frankly, a bit nervous. Any sign of rejection would cut deep, now that she was this vulnerable. But she continued. “Best friends might not be able to act like this, do these things, but… when they’re not only best friends, but also…”

Her heart was beating so fast now, to the point that she wondered if Natsu could even hear what she was saying over the loud heartbeat. She had to continue though, this was the moment of truth. Her hand, that hadn’t stopped moving across his shoulders, arms and upper back, gripped his T-shirt in an attempt to calm herself - or to at least make sure she wouldn’t float away from all the air she was holding in her lungs.

“Also lovers… they can do this.” There. She said it. Knowing she couldn’t change the outcome no matter what at this point, she looked up at Natsu again, determination flowing in her eyes. And Natsu… he looked normal. He didn’t look surprised, sad, confused or angry - just like his normal, easy going self. She would have felt offended when his ribs started shaking in a lighthearted chuckle, except she really couldn’t get upset with him when he looked so thoroughly happy. He took her face in his hands and gave her forehead a soft kiss.

“Then let’s change to that other rulebook,” he said, continuing to kiss her left and then her right cheek, before giving in to what could only be described as cute aggression, showering her face in quick, sloppy pecks. Lucy, who was surprised by this sudden affection, couldn’t stop her bubbling laughter from spilling out of her mouth. She was so relieved that he understood the implication. She had told him that she wanted them to be lovers, and he had accepted. In fits of giggles she tried to bend away from him so she could properly look at him. She failed, at first, due to his constant moving, but after a second try she could pry herself away from his smooching-rifle. Natsu looked so joyful as he looked at her, that she fleetingly wondered how they ever could have gone as only friends for as long as they had. She grabbed his face in the same way he had grabbed hers, and felt an overwhelming amount of love pulse through her veins.

“Natsu Dragneel, I love you. I love you so, so much,” she confessed. She had dreamt about this moment for way too long, and even if it went nothing like she had expected, she felt like the happiest girl on earth. Give it to Natsu to solve the challenge of making Lucy’s days better, no matter what she goes through, because he has always known exactly how to cheer her up, even when he didn’t know it himself.

“I love you more, Lucy.” She could no longer wait, so she smashed their lips together, allowing them to mould into what could only be described as a perfect kiss. Natsu moved his hand away from Lucy’s cheek and into her tangled blonde hair, deepening their connection. This certainly wasn’t what Natsu had expected waking up today, and he had definitely not expected it after seeing her cry like she did, but nevertheless he was happy with the outcome.

Happiness has always been known as a short emotion, sneaking up in pulses, giving people licks of serotonin during the long winters of their emotions. Happiness has that in common with a lot of other emotions - anger comes in upset explosions, sadness waters the grieving fields of memories, only for the rain to cease after short periods of time. Jealousy comes as a storm, ripping up carefully planted and cared for greenery, only to leave the vaguer emotions like confusion to deal with the aftermath. Love, however, enters lives slowly, growing stronger for every kind and selfless act between the pair, staying unnoticed until the deepest feelings of frustration destructs the surroundings. Only then do they truly notice what amazing powers come with love - it heals, evolves and comforts.

In spring love blooms, in summer it sweats, in autumn it plays, and in winter it warms. Lucy and Natsu experience love all of the time - they have felt love for friends, family and even enemies at times, but most importantly, they have felt love for each other. The seasons have tested their resilience, gotten them through many trials and errors, but even the feeling of love comes to a consensus once in a while. Today it came in the act of showing up, tomorrow it might come in the act of keeping a distance. But they continue to love nevertheless.

[taavisplushies]

how i wash plushies

by taavi :)

TLDR

step 1: read the tush tags. does it say machine washable or hand wash only? this is important information to know! if it doesn’t have a tag, or if the tag doesn’t say anything about washing, just assume it’s hand wash only.

need help reading the tush tags? click here!

step 2: if it’s hand wash only, read this. if it’s machine washable skip to step number 5. time to figure out how wet the plush can get. if your plush is full of rice, beans, nut shells, etc, it’s best to not get them very wet. if your plush has a voice box, it’s best to not get them wet either. if it’s just a normal plush with stuffing and nothing else, you can usually get them as wet as you want! be careful with handmade ones though. if your plush can’t get very wet, or if you only want to give them a light cleaning, move on to the next step. otherwise, skip to step number 4.

step 3: this is for light cleaning, or plushies that can’t get very wet. you want to take either a damp cloth or some baby wipes and gently wipe them down. if they have stains use a very very small amount of dawn dish soap with a damp cloth to “rinse” it off. let the plush air dry in front of a fan or an open window. since you did not get the plush super wet, it shouldn’t take too long to dry. after they are dry, gently brush their fur with the same kind of brush that you would use for a dog or cat. do NOT share brushes between plushies and people or animals, because this can get oils and dandruff on the plushie.

step 4: this is for hand washing plushies that can get super wet! fill up a sink or bathtub with enough water for the plushie to comfortably soak or float in it. make sure you use cold or warm water, NEVER use hot water! hot water can potentially damage the plush! when your plushie is soaking in the water, add some dawn dish soap to your hand or a cloth. gently scrub the plush everywhere! if there is a stain that’s not coming out, try using vinegar instead of soap! WARNING: vinegar smells bad, so after using it you will have to wash the plush again with soap. after your plush has been scrubbed, rinse them off! gently squeeze the plush while rinsing them off to help get soap out. once all the soap is out, you can gently squeeze until most of the water is out as well. do NOT twist the plush as you squeeze them, this could disfigure them. after the plush has been washed, it’s time for them to dry off! lay them on a towel and set them in front of a fan or open window. you could alternatively set them outside in the sun, but be careful that you don’t get them dirty again! as they air dry, you should regularly rotate them so that all sides get a chance to dry off. air drying can take a long time, especially if the plush is bigger or very wet still. i normally leave plushies to air dry for a minimum of 24 hours, just to be safe! after the plush has dried off, you should gently brush them with the same kind of brush that you would use for a dog. do NOT share a brush between plushies and people or animals. doing that could transfer oils or dandruff to the plush.

step 5: this is for machine washing your plush! it’s important that you only put a plush in the washing machine if the tag says that it’s okay! if the tag says hand wash only, the washing machine could damage your plush! machine washing a plush is pretty similar to washing clothes in the washing machine. the main difference is that you might want to put the plush inside a pillow case to wash it. if the plush has hard eyes, they can get scratched up in the washing machine, so the pillow case should protect it. using your normal laundry detergent should be fine! make sure the washing machine is using cold water too, because hot water can potentially damage plushies. if the plush has any stains still, it’s time to try hand washing them. see step number 4 for hand washing these plushies. after the plush is washed it’s time for them to dry. first gently squeeze out the extra water, but do NOT twist the plushie. NEVER put a plushie in the dryer. it will most likely damage their fur. instead you should let the plushie air dry in front of a fan or an open window. maybe even set them outside :) it can take a while for a plush to air dry, but if you use the fan method and rotate them every so often, it should be dry within a day! unless it’s really big or super wet. after the plush is dry, it’s time to brush their fur! use the same kind of brush that you would use for a dog or cat. you should NEVER share a brush between plushies and people or animals, because it could transfer oil or dandruff to the plush.

NOTES

you can use any soap to wash your plushies. i just prefer dawn dish soap, because i’ve noticed that it’s very good at cleaning them up and removing stains!

if you have any questions feel free to ask me! i’m not very good at explaining things so i might’ve missed something! :)

[bulldagger-bait]

When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.

TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.

If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.

If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.

If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.

If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.

If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.

If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.

If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.

If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.

If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.

If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.

If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.

If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.

If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.

I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.

If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.

If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.

If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.

These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.

And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.

If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.

[baziutawrites]

Demons in disguise

Xavier Thorpe x Female OC

Beginnings part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8]

Other smut fics through my Masterlist.

Summary: Wet dreams, smutty, angst, Xav gets beaten up and his mural trashed, miscommunication, Xav and Val being stupid, fluff if you squint.

His eyes roamed hungrily over her naked body, her form advancing on him slowly, tentative steps light against the floorboards. This sight was familiar to him by now, yet every time he got to see her like this, he could not take his eyes off of her. 

He felt his own body heat up as she got on the bed, her knees brushing his shoulders at each side of his head. 

His fingers found their way to her thighs, gliding along the warm skin, almost feeling their softness as he then dug into them greedily, kneading the supple flesh all the way up to her buttcheeks. 

She positioned herself, hovering her hips over his face and he felt his mouth water. Her cunt, pink and pretty, with that gorgeous little clit of hers, was full on display right before his eyes.

He felt her fingers slide into his hair and he tore his eyes away from her pussy with great difficulty, only to glide up over her body. With her breasts heaving with anticipation, her face framed with her long, light brown hair and her lower lip in between her teeth, he didn't know where to look, she was too dazzling. Just as his eyes met hers, she spoke, her voice playful even now.

"Am not gonna stop until you make me cum."

And her cunt pressed against his mouth, his nose digging into her clit as she ground her hips on his face, making him breathless with need. His tongue lapped her up hungrily, her taste almost reaching his senses. He groaned into her, holding her against him with one hand, as the other flew down to grip his cock, which was now throbbing on his abdomen. This surely wasn't real. This was too good to be true.

And he was right. Just as he toyed with her clit, letting it repeatedly slide from in between his lips as he sucked on it, she moaned his name and he felt her creamy juices leak down his mouth as she came undone with his name like a prayer on her lips. Her voice was like music to his ears, so wonderful in fact, that he felt himself cum because of this, his fist working his cock in erratic movements as he spurted ropes and ropes of seed over his abdomen. But then he felt this weird, uncomfortable sensation of wet material against his dick and his eyes flew open.

His dorm room was quiet, with an occasional snore from the other side of the room. Rowan was fast asleep, thankfully unaware of Xavier's accident this time.

Dreams like this have haunted him almost every day now. Every single evening, since the god forsaken Poe Cup, he knew he would dream about her - but he would be lying if he said he didn't look forward to it. Yet every single morning, before Rowan could actually see him, he had to lock himself in his bathroom to desperately try to wash off the shame he felt whenever he did cum in them. Whenever he didn't, it wasn't any less embarrassing though. His hot and throbbing morning wood got tugged mercilessly by his large, trembling fist clasped around it, while the pictures of Val were displayed on his phone - usually the most recent Instagram ones. He desperately tried not to make a sound over the steady hum of running water. It was successfully drowning out the quiet sounds of him jerking off but wouldn't do with him moaning her name. He did find out about that the hard way too.

He couldn't stand the proximity now. He had to get away from her, put any distance in between them for him to function without the brain haze.

The dreams flashed before his eyes every time she was near him and he could not keep excusing himself to the bathroom without it starting to look suspicious. So, he took on avoiding her the best he could, for his own sanity. And it turned out to be far more difficult to execute than he thought it would be. Seeing her obviously hurt and confused expression every time he basically ran away whenever she approached him didn't escape him. He was basically pushing away the person he longed for - but this was for the best. He couldn't make a fool out of himself in his dreams. She wouldn't reject him in his dreams. And she most definitely would not want anything more than being friends with him. Not when she was hanging out with that vampire guy from the other boys' dorm more and more. 

As the time went on, he didn't know how to get out of the hole he dug himself into. Each passing day, the pit he got stuck in was getting deeper and deeper, as he now didn't have to actively avoid Val. She had been doing it for him since the last rooftop party. The one he had fled in panic when he noticed her wearing the dress that she repeatedly wore in his most recent dreams. The ones in which he held her tight against his chest, as they swayed to the slow music playing in the darkened room. The ones in which he looked down at her smiling up at him with adoration, making his heart stutter. He could not help himself but kiss her every time, making her curiously dark eyes flutter shut as their lips melted together. This felt so right until the moment he woke up, alone, with a weird mixture of pleasant, yet painful tightness around his heart.

The dream flashed before his eyes as he stood with Ajax and Kent outside of the Foreign Beasts and Legends classroom, listening to their conversation about Val. Kent could not explain what exactly made her leave so suddenly, yet he was insisting her eyes being all weird and dark all of a sudden. She didn't have dark eyes. At least not in the real world.

***

The Outreach Day was definitely not going to be Val’s favourite thing. Weems came up with the whole schtick to “improve the Outcast-Normie relations”. It didn’t really seem to really work, given the glares she got from the very few people around her as she wiped down the tables after the morning rush hour. But at least she got to look seemingly normal - she was assigned to the Weathervane cafe, unlike Enid and Yoko, who were sent off to the Pilgrim World and she could not help herself but laugh at the ridiculous costumes they got to wear. 

She noticed Xavier setting up the painting equipment not that far away from the cafe when she used the last minutes of her freedom to talk to Cameron, a new guy friend she made some time ago through Yoko. She could now see Xavier from one of the windows near the counters, if she leaned into the glass well enough. His long figure was now stretched on top of a ladder as he swiftly moved his lanky arms, brush gliding almost effortlessly against the brick wall as he was finishing a rough outline. The mural he was supposed to paint as a task in celebration for commemorating the Outreach Day was the only task that didn't consist of either serving customers or making a fool out of yourself in that god forsaken theme park. At least one of the poor souls was going to be enjoying themselves today, she thought, watching Xavier's long legs hit the floor as he jumped off of the last step of the ladder and was now assessing his work. His hand repeatedly bushed through his hair, only to tie the top half of it in a bun. She felt tingling in the lower back, observing his paint-stained forearms move.

"Hey, I'm gonna take a breather now, okay?" Val looked over at her shift manager.

"Ten minutes, no more. We have some stocking up to do."

With a coffee to go and a sandwich in a paper bag, she got out of the shop just to stop right outside the glass door. Her mind was now at war with itself. Should she go talk to him? Confront him about his weirdo behaviour? He clearly didn't want to talk to her anymore but she still couldn't figure out why. What did she do that made him so avoidant, she couldn't recall for the life of her…

well, there was the Poe Cup, uh, 'incident'. But at the time he didn't look particularly mad about it, quite the opposite. Sounded pleased too. When he commented on her picture - it still made her stupidly giddy when she thought about it. But then, no talking, no hanging out, just likes on insta. What did that mean then, Enid? 

She took a deep breath and decided to at least try to talk to him. If he would tell her to sod right off, at least she would have him cornered and could force the reason out of him before she would comply. With a heavy but determined heart, she strode towards the tall figure.

"Hi."

Xavier jumped, blinking at her reached out hands, offering him breakfast.

"Thought you might want to eat something."

He took it, his long, paint stained fingers brushing hers and she noticed her heart skipped a beat. It was a weird thing and it took her by surprise. Her body never reacted this way to him. Why was it now?

"M'sorry." Xavier’s low voice rang out, startling her out of her thoughts. She noticed she was staring at him, frowning. "You know, for being an ass for those past weeks and all."

She felt as if a heavy weight was being lifted off of her shoulders.

"Why?" A simple word came out, a bit harsher than she anticipated. "Did I do something wrong?"

He rubbed his neck sheepishly, a light tint creeping up on his cheekbones.

"Ah, uhm, no. No, you didn't. It's just, I needed to think." When she looked at him quizzically, her eyebrow raised in a not so convinced expression, he chuckled nervously. "Okay, I know it sounds sketchy but I seriously did. And… was a bit, uh, embarrassed too."

"About what?" She laughed now, the ridiculousness of the explanation getting the better of her. The hell he needed to be away from her to think? His laughter followed suit.

"Y'know…" Xavier’s face was now burning, as he shifted in place, looking at her from underneath his eyelashes. He had really long eyelashes, Val noticed. "The Poe Cup? And the forest, uh, thing?"

His hand was back at his neck, rubbing it tentatively after he brushed loose strands of hair out of his face. He seemed to be weighing his words.

"And I, uh… I-it was a nice thing."

Val felt the heat trickle down her back now as she gawked at him, her own face going pink now.

"Oh." She managed to voice out. She most certainly did find that situation 'nice'. But hearing him basically admit to liking what happened… Her eyes followed Xavier's hands as he went for a sip of the coffee, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Well, now you made me speechless, Thorpe."

He sputtered, choking on the hot drink.

"And you owe me breakfast someday." She winked at him, before she could stop herself and turned around to face her shift manager waving at her to come back. With one last glance at him, she smiled a soft smile. "I missed you."

She could swear she heard him let out a shaky breath and a quiet voice followed.

"I missed you too."

***

By the time the late afternoon rush rolled in, Xavier came to the cafe at least a dozen times. To use a bathroom, to order another coffee, to charge his phone up, to order another drink, to muse over the pastries, to have yet another coffee - and for every single order he placed, he made sure Val was the one serving him. There was no time to chat however, the customers kept rolling in and out of the shop, leaving a lot of tables to tend to after they had their orders. But the way Xavier's green eyes glided along her face made her skin pleasantly twinge with… with what, exactly? She couldn't quite put her finger on it. But it gave her a pleasant, fuzzy feeling in her chest.

The amount of work didn't leave her time to ponder over the newfound weird sensations however. It also made her a bit snappy at the customers who got a bit too friendly with her - and the tip jar showed it.

"It's a part of the job, so suck it up, buttercup."

So, she was now standing next to a group of loud guys acting as if they owned the place and the staff. The way they ogled her with those overly cocky grins made her feel the breakfast rise to her throat. But, just as she was told by her co-worker, she sucked it up and flashed a wide, fake smile that didn't reach her eyes at them, asking what they would like to order. She regretted the way she formulated the question the second it left her mouth.

"Are you on the menu tho?" One of the gang said and all of them snickered like a bunch of kids. She gave him a bored look that said 'I am not getting paid enough for this', trying really hard not to roll her eyes at that. She noticed his curly hair and a pretty face - he would be handsome if not for the disgusting words that were leaving his mouth right now.

"Good one, Tyler."

They literally patted him on the back, she groaned internally. The bell over the door let out a ding and the tall and lanky form of Xavier entered the shop again. She could not help herself but give him a small smile, welcoming the distraction. He returned it, settled himself two tables down from where the group was, facing her and watched her with his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Yea, cuz we wanna know how much for you for one night, girl." 

She noticed a hand come towards her ass from the side and she swiftly smacked it with the empty tray she was holding. Her heart was pounding now, anger mixed with fear coursing through her veins.

"Auch, bitch!"

"I am going to come back when you decide to take it seriously." She forced through gritted teeth and before they could say something more, she was at Xavier's side, rolling her eyes.

"Remind me, why do I hate customer service again?"

He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Not much left. We will be back in our dorms soon. I am also almost finished with the mural, I can come back here to keep you company if you want to."

"Not much of my patience left, though. I would love to get out of here and check your work out."

She exhaled and leaned over the table, making Xavier stiffen visibly.

"Am not gonna bite you, don't worry." She laughed but then the hushed voices reached her ears.

"She's one of the weirdos."

"I knew there was something off about her. Look at the hair, all green and shit."

"Would fuck the weird out of her, still. Would pull at that hair."

"Look at that loser. Is he her boyfriend or something?"

"Since when does it stop you, Greg?"

"Yea no, he wishes he would do her tho. Look at him."

Her eyes snapped back to Xavier's and her heart sunk to the floor. He heard them too. His fists were clenched hard on top of the table, she could see his jaw twitch with every other sentence, the guys' voices not even hushed at this point.

"The fuck does he think he is?"

With the sudden force Xavier stood up with, he would most likely flip the table over if Val wasn't leaning over it. His body was tense, she noticed a slight tremble of his fingers when they unclenched as he shot his arm out for his jacket. His eyes were oddly bright when he looked at her, towering over her, when she grabbed his hand.

"Need to go."

He didn't sound like himself again. It was almost like when he started to avoid her, his voice strained and tense with his gaze unfocused.

"Hey." Val spoke quietly. She reached up towards his face slowly and brushed a strand of hair that escaped his half up, half down hairdo, behind his ear. She wasn't sure what to say to him now, how to console him, reassure him, so she went with the first thing that came to her mind. "I'll call you when I get off, 'kay?"

The air in the cafe seemed to stiffen. Val watched, as Xavier went out in a few long strides without another word. Her hair stood on end the moment his presence was gone from the cafe and an uneasy feeling settled its burning, vile weight in the pit of her stomach, extending its tendrils all the way up to her throat. 

She didn't like the way the guys heads turned, as they too watched the tall figure of Xavier go back towards his assignment. She didn't like the now hushed tones, the conversation animated but dying down instantly whenever she passed the guys' table, only to start back up again when she was out of earshot. It got even more unnerving, when they finally got out. Val kept glancing at the group, standing right outside the glass door to the cafe, clearly arguing about something. The curly haired one - Tyler - shaking his head at the most vocal one. Greg or what's his name?

"Zamoyski. Stop slacking."

Shift manager snapped her fingers at her and pointed towards the array of glass that needed wiping. With a sigh, Val turned her gaze away from the group with great difficulty, picked up the rag and went on with the work, trying with all her might to ignore the unsettling feeling, still clawing at her throat.

***

Her heart stopped for what felt like hours. She was frozen in place, mind completely blank, almost as if she got stoned. A loud ringing in her ears followed, overtaking her hearing, drowning out the customer's voice. She felt as if a bucket of ice cold water got dumped over her head, sending her body into a numb stupor. Her eyes wide and unblinking, were stuck on the scene unfolding outside, underneath the mural. She watched the fist collide with Xavier's head again, making his head snap to the side.

"No."

The ear piercing sound of shattering glass reverberated in the room, as the tray slipped out of Val's hand. She was out of the cafe in seconds, not hearing the angry shouts of her shift manager. She had to get to Xavier. She had to get to him, fast.

***

"Yo, freak, what's up?"

Xavier looked down over his shoulder from up the ladder he was perched on. A group of four guys, the town head normies, approached him. They were standing close to the ladder now, way too close for his liking. He scoffed and turned back towards the mural, gliding the paintbrush over the Nevermore's logo he had almost finished. Maybe ignoring them would make them go away.

"I asked you something."

He ignored the taunting that ensued. They were not worth his time. He wanted to get this mural over with and finally go back to his dorm. But then he heard a loud clatter and he felt paint splash his side. They threw one of the cans against the painting, ruining the Jericho side he had already done and he felt anger rush to his head. Hours of work, gone.

"The fuck you're doing?" He shouted.

"Nice friend you've got over there. She yours? Nah, how would she like a freak like you."

"Fuck off!"

"Uuh, the abomination is getting pissy."

"Yeah, Thorpe, behave. Wouldn't want to have that giant bitch put you to detention… with a little help of course." Tyler leaned against one of the ladder legs. 

"Get lost, you fuckers." Xavier seethed. And it was a bad decision.

The ladder got kicked out from underneath him in a blink of an eye and his side collided with the hard concrete with a loud crunching sound. A searing pain shoot through his wrist, all the way up to his collarbone, making him yelp. It was surely sprained at least, he could not bear to move his fingers without wincing. He heard laughter and a pair of hands yanked his arms back, the pain blinding him momentarily as he strained, whining. The hand throbbed with hot jolts but then, another one of the guys yanked him upwards by his jacket. Through bleary eyes he saw the mayor's son, before his fist collided with his nose and tears sprung underneath his eyelids. Hot liquid spurted out, covering his mouth in thick, coppery layer. He spat out what got into his mouth and winced.

"Not barking much now, fucker?"

"Luke, Greg, come on." Tyler's voice rang out but was ignored, as another punch collided with Xavier's jaw. And then another one. And another. Then a kick to his stomach knocked the air out of his lungs. He keeled over, as much as he could and coughed, blood spraying the concrete.

"Guys–"

"Stop being such a fucking wimp, Galpin."

An uppercut threw Xavier's head up. He felt blood inside his mouth now.

"This would teach you some manners, freak."

When another punch after punch landed onto the side of his head, his mind started to go fuzzy. He felt his eye swell but barely registered anything besides the overwhelming pain. He thought he heared a familiar female voice scream his name from afar. Valerye?

"Stop it!"

"Thorpe, your girlfriend came to your rescue. How pathetic, a girl ha– aaaaah!"

He fell to the ground, yelling out in pain as he fell right on top of his injured hand, the pain blinding him again. He thought he heared one of the guys falling to the ground beside him and a commotion, as they scurried, their voices now scared. 

"Leave him alone!"

This was Val's voice. He would recognise it anywhere… but there was something different about it now. Something unsettling, almost otherworldly, sharp and jagged. And the fury that laced it made his hairs stand on end.

"What the fuck? What the fuck is that freak, the fucking eyes?!"

"Fucking demon!"

Xavier peeled his eyes open as much as he could. He could make out Val's figure standing between him and the group, that was assaulting him just seconds before. Her back was towards him, her shoulders squared and tense. Her body seemed to be curiously sharp around the edges. He thought her hands were black, almost as if she dipped them in paint and he blinked repeatedly, trying to make the tears go away so he could see better.

"Run. Away." She snarled. And they did, their voices audibly scared. But when she turned to face him, grey eyes met his and the terror twisted her soft features, as she fell to her knees at his side.

"Xavier," she breathed. "Can you hear me?"

***

He was a mess. His hair was clumped together with red, sticking to his beaten up face. Half of it was turning purple, where one of the guys repeatedly hit him. She fumbled with her apron, yanking it off and pressing the material against his nose. He winced and she noticed blood staining his teeth too. 

"It's okay, sweetie. It's okay, it's over. They're gone. It's over now. Hold on. Don't move. Shit, your hand…"

She felt panic starting to engulf her and thankfully she heared footsteps behind her. When she whipped her head around, she saw Ajax and Bianca amongst other normies finally catching wind of what was going on. She yelled for them.

"Go find Weems! Or anyone! Please!"

"I'm okay–"

Ajax sprinted towards the town's centre. Bianca was now near her and Val heard her curse loudly and she pulled out her phone. Ambulance. 

"Xavier, lay down." Val pushed against Xavier's chest lightly to prevent him from moving. "You're not okay. You're far from okay. Please."

His green eyes were unfocused but firmly locked onto her face.

"Why'd they call you that?"

"What?" 

"The demon… something. Thing."

"They've messed you up pretty bad, you must've heard things wrong."

"...you've got pretty eyes."

She shook her head, exasperation making her lips twitch slightly. 

"You're seriously delirious now, Thorpe. You're complimenting me in person."

He closed his eyes, laying his head on the ground with a hiss. 

"Should do more often."

Val had to avert her eyes from him now, the fuzzy feeling in her chest now mixing with the fear she felt for his wellbeing.

"Just… lay down, okay? The paramedics are here. You're gonna be okay."

She wondered if he truly was this delirious to say things he didn't really mean, as she watched him being wheeled into the ambulance. And the thought of this possibility hurt her. 

[dujour13]

For the couple asks, #1,3, 13, and 30?

Thank you Starlightcleric!! I went and wrote essays again, sorry

1. What, specifically, was the catalyst for their physical attraction (if applicable) to the other character? In other words, what in particular had them like “Oh, they’re…hot…”

It was like Woljif hit every single button at the same time when Siavash went down the stairs to see about this thief situation. I’m surprised he didn’t short circuit and pass out. What’s this? An exciting funny exotic twinky wet rescue puppy with clever golden eyes who literally needs to be freed from his chains? And then he stood there and watched him pick locks and disarm traps with those… incredibly dexterous hands. And don’t forget Sia was on a 2-year dry spell at that point. That said, Sia needs there to be an emotional connection, and that took more time. For Woljif it was that sweet soulful voice, and then the vision to match it coming down the stairs. Someone so different from his world, kind of golden-hued and soft and warm-looking. And that smile. All the carefree joy and affection he’s been hungry for all his life, like looking in the window of a fancy pastry shop and seeing a cake you didn’t even know existed.

3. By contrast, what was the moment that first made their ~heart~ Soft for the other person? Not necessarily a conscious realization of “I love this person,” but a moment that had them like “Oh…I adore them…”

The many little signs of Woljif’s gentle, bruised heart showing through the cracks. Especially when he told him the story about being found in a basket with a royal coat-of-arms on his blanket. “Makes people look at me different.” Because Siavash’s thing is comforting the suffering. Part of that may be narcissism—he does love to be adored—but part of it is sincerely just wanting to spread joy and love in the world. It’s a nicer place to hang around in that way. His whole goal in life is to make people see that vision. He has his own version of Woljif’s little quip: “I don’t manipulate people. I just get them to reconsider what’s in their best interest.” Always with good intentions: evil is enslaving and no fun. There’s nothing he wants more than to liberate Woljif from his chains, literally and figuratively. So Woljif was going to be a project of his, whether they ended up lovers or not. That doesn’t sound good, I know, but it wasn’t out of condescension. Siavash really respects Woljif—listens to his advice, admires his competence, enjoys his company. It’s not a pity project so much as wanting him to realize his potential and be free and happy. Running away made him fall for him even more. Like, the stuff this guy is up against. The things life has taught him. I want to teach him it can be different. For Woljif, it was the first time he was forgiven. In my hc he pulled a little shenanigan with the Moon of the Abyss that could have put Siavash in hot water with the Thieflings, and he really actually felt bad about it afterwards. Or a little bit bad at least. But Sia was nice about it, without being an easy mark. He said “Clue me in next time, maybe I’ll help,” and Woljif was presented with the prospect of a partner in crime for the first time in his life.

13. What is their go-to for making a partner feel loved?

Woljif gets embarrassed by how much he adores Siavash. He knows he’s shown his cards, so he doesn’t always feel he needs to go the extra step of saying it aloud. He looks out for Siavash and he’ll go to enormous lengths to do nice things for him, but the L-word does not come easily. So the answer is he just assumes he knows, because he’d do anything for him. I think I’ve said before that Siavash is a love-language polyglot. He’s attentive and affectionate, loves making romantic gestures and gives out compliments like candy. If there’s one go-to, it’s that he listens to Woljif. He respects his opinion, loves his stories and relies on his advice. And when something’s bothering him he validates his feelings. Woljif feels heard, which is a big deal for him.

30. What completely petty topic (music taste, favorite food) do they find themselves completely at odds with their partner about?

Spending money!

[lookgoodfood]

Makes: 6 naans, ~15-16cm / 6 - 7" diameter

Prep Time20 mins

Cook Time10 mins

Dough rising:2 hrs

Ingredients

1 tsp instant / rapid rise yeast (Note 1)

1/2 cup warm tap water (~40°C/105°F in temperature)

1 tbsp white sugar

2 tbsp milk , full fat (low fat ok too)

1 1/2 tbsp whisked egg , at room temp (around 1/2 an egg, Note 2)

1/2 tsp salt , cooking / kosher

1 3/4 cups bread flour , or all-purpose/plain (Note 3)

30g / 2 tbsp ghee or unsalted butter , melted (Note 4)

Instructions

Bloom yeast: Mix yeast with warm water and sugar in a small bowl. Cover with cling wrap, leave for 10 minutes until foamy.

Egg and milk: Whisk milk and egg together.

Flour: Sift flour and salt into a separate bowl.

Add wet ingredients: Make a well in the flour, add yeast mixture, and butter and egg mixture. Mix together with a spatula. Once the flour is mostly incorporated, switch to your hands and bring it together into a ball. No kneading is required.

Proof 1: Cover the bowl with cling-wrap, then leave in a warm place for 1 - 1.5 hrs until it doubles in size. (Note 7)

Cut into 6 pieces: Place the dough on a lightly floured surface. Cut into 6 equal pieces, then shape into balls into spheres with a smooth surface by stretching the surface and tucking it under (see video).

Proof 2: Place balls on a lightly-floured tray or plate. Sprinkle lightly with flour, cover loosely with a lightweight tea towel. Put in a warm place to rise for 15 minutes until it increases in size by about 50%.

Roll out: Place a round on a lightly-floured work surface, flatten with your hand. Roll out into 3 - 4mm / 0.12 - 0.16" thick rounds (about 16cm / 6.5" wide).

Heat skillet: Rub a cast iron skillet with a very light coat of oil using 1/2 tsp oil on a paper towl (unless already well seasoned). Set over high heat until you see wisps of smoke. (Note 8 for other pans)

Cook naan: Place a naan dough in the skillet and cook for 1 to 1 1/2 minutes until the underside is deep golden / slightly charred – the surface should get bubbly. Flip then cook the other side for 1 minute until the bubbles become deep golden brown.

Cook remaining naan: Remove, set aside, and repeat with remaining naan, taking care to regulate the heat of the skillet so it doesn't get too hot.

Finishing: Brush freshly cooked naan with melted butter or ghee (or garlic butter, Note 5). Sprinkle with nigella seeds and coriander. Serve hot!

Notes

1. Yeast – This recipe works with dry active yeast too, but the naan is not quite as soft. Follow recipe as written, including yeast quantity. Also note, rapid-rise/instant yeast normally does not need to activated in warm water but it's a very specific step for this recipe because it yields a softer naan than adding the instant yeast directly into the dough. (Yes, we made a LOT of naan to try out all the various combinations to figure out the best one!).

2. Egg – I know this sounds strange, but we need 1/2 a large egg for one batch of this naan! Any more and it dries out the inside too much.

Just crack an egg in a bowl, whisk, then measure out 1 1/2 tbsp. OR just make a double batch of this naan so you can use one whole egg!

3. Flour – Bread flour makes the softest, fluffiest naan. But all-purpose/plain flour is very nearly as good. I wouldn't make a special trip to the supermarket just to get bread flour. But if you've got it, use it!

4. Ghee is clarified butter, one of the traditional fats used in Indian cooking. It is simply butter without the water and milk solids, so you have pure butter fat. It has a more intense flavour than butter. Either buy it, make it (it’s easy and keeps for months) or just use normal butter!

5. Garlic butter: Place 2 tbsp/30g salted butter or ghee and 1/2 tsp crushed garlic* in a small bowl. Microwave until butter has melted (do it in bursts so it doesn't explode!!). Stand for a couple of minutes to let the garlic flavour infuse before using.

* Garlic crushed using a garlic crusher or microplane

6. Cheese – Any melting cheese works fine here, though bear in mind if you use mozzarella it doesn't have much flavour. Monterey Jack is a good option that has flavour and stretches nicely!

7. How to promote dough rising – One of my favourite places to proof dough is in my dryer!!! Draught proof, easy to heat up a small space. Just run it for a couple of minutes, put the bowl in, close the door and leave it. Just don't turn it on!

8. Cooking pan – If you don't have a cast iron pan, you can use another type of skillet. Pour 1/2 tsp oil on a paper towel then lightly rub the base. DO NOT use a non-stick pan – the high heat required to properly cook naan will destroy the non-stick coating!

Here is the cast iron skillet I use - it's a Lodge (excellent value, indestructible!)

9. Make ahead naan – A last-minute discovery was that naan is great for making ahead! In fact, the bread flavour improves overnight, which is typical of most breads.

Make the dough up to the end of Step 5 - Proof 1. Then after the dough has doubled in size, put the bowl with the dough it in the fridge overnight (I've done 24 hours). Do not punch dough down or touch it – just put it in as is. The fridge stops the dough from rising any further.

Take the bowl out of the fridge at least a couple of hours before cooking. We need to take the fridge chill out of it completely otherwise the dough won't rise for Proof #2 (Step 6). Cut into 6 pieces, then proceed with recipe from Step 6 onwards. 

10. Nutrition per naan – Excludes extra ghee or butter brushed on top (and certainly excluding the cheese –  I have not control over how much you choose to stuff it with!)

[wujitex]

What is the best way to use a face cloth for washing your face effectively?

face cloth for washing face

Introduction:

Maintaining healthy and radiant skin is a top priority for many individuals. While a quick splash of water may seem sufficient, using a face cloth can elevate your skincare routine to the next level. In this article, we will explore the best practices for utilizing a face cloth to wash your face effectively, ensuring optimal results for your skin. Discover face cloths’ advantages and application areas, and unlock the key to a revitalizing skincare regimen.

face cloth for washing face

Section 1:

The Power of a Face Cloth for Washing Face

A face cloth is a simple yet powerful tool for effortlessly achieving impeccable facial hygiene. Unlike bare hands, this specifically designed cloth allows for gentle exfoliation, thorough cleansing, and improved blood circulation. The unique texture of the face cloth effectively removes impurities, makeup residue, and dead skin cells, leaving your face feeling rejuvenated and refreshed.

Section 2:

How to Effectively Use a Face Cloth for Washing Face

2.1 Choosing the Right Face Cloth:

To ensure a successful face-washing experience, selecting the proper face cloth is crucial. Opt for a soft, hypoallergenic cloth made from natural fibers, such as bamboo or cotton. These fabrics are gentle on the skin and prevent irritation, making them suitable for all skin types.

2.2 Preparing the Face Cloth:

Before use, soak the face cloth in warm water to activate its natural absorbency. This step prepares the fabric to effectively remove dirt, oil, and impurities from the skin. Wring out excess water, leaving the cloth damp but not dripping wet.

2.3 Cleansing the Face:

Apply your preferred facial cleanser onto the damp face cloth. Gently massage the cleanser into the fabric to create a lather. Start cleansing your face using small, circular motions, moving from the center outwards. The face cloth’s textured surface is a mini exfoliator, removing dirt and dead skin cells while stimulating blood flow.

2.4 Removing Makeup:

Apply a gentle makeup remover to the face cloth for thorough makeup removal, including stubborn mascara and foundation. Gently wipe the cloth over your face, paying extra attention to the eye and lip areas. The face cloth’s soft yet absorbent fibers effortlessly lift away makeup without harsh scrubbing, leaving your skin makeup-free and fresh.

2.5 Rinse and Repeat:

After cleansing your face:

Rinse the face cloth thoroughly to remove any residue.

Repeat the process to ensure a cleanse, especially if you have heavy makeup or live in a polluted area.

Remember to wash your face cloth regularly to maintain proper hygiene.

Section 3:

The Advantages of Using a Face Cloth for Washing Face

3.1 Enhanced Cleansing:

Unlike fingers alone, a face cloth provides gentle exfoliation and deep cleansing, resulting in more precise and healthier skin. The fabric helps reduce puffiness and brighten the complexion by promoting blood circulation.

3.2 Versatility:

Face cloths are not limited to face cleansing only. They can be used for removing masks, as hot or cold compresses, or even as gentle exfoliators for the body. Their versatility ensures optimal value for money and many uses within your skincare routine.

3.3 Suitable for All Skin Types:

Facecloths are gentle enough to be used on even the most sensitive skin types. They effectively remove impurities without stripping away the skin’s natural moisture, leaving your face clean and nourished.

3.4 Environmentally Friendly:

Choosing a face cloth over disposable wipes or pads significantly reduces waste and contributes to a sustainable lifestyle. By incorporating facecloths into your skincare routine, not only will you achieve beautiful skin, but you will also be making an eco-conscious choice.

Section 4:

Concluding Thoughts

Mastering the art of practical face washing with a face cloth is an essential step towards achieving a glowing and healthy complexion. By following the guidelines outlined in this article, you can unlock the full potential of a face cloth in your skincare regimen. Elevate your routine, enhance your results, and embrace the long-lasting benefits of a face cloth for washing your face. Experience the difference today and say hello to a revitalized, radiant you!

[25mn]

The Complete Guide to Reheat Tacos

The most effective method to Warm Tacos However there is simply 1 legitimate method for making tacos, there are two or three methods for warming your extra tacos.

Each warming technique beneath will help various kinds of tacos and their fillings. However, when in doubt, taco fillings ought to be warmed independently from the taco shells.

Step by step instructions to Make Tacos

Fall to pieces lean ground meat in a skillet over medium-high intensity. Add bean stew powder, cumin, salt, oregano, garlic powder, and pepper. Cook until the hamburger is sautéed. Natively constructed taco preparing on ground hamburger in a skillet Add pureed tomatoes and water to the meat. hand crafted taco prepared meat in a skillet Cook until some fluid has dissipated, yet the meat is as yet sassy. Cooked taco meat for natively constructed tacos Spoon 2 tablespoons of the taco meat into hard taco shells or little delicate tortillas. Top the tacos with your #1 conventional taco garnishes.

Here are the The Complete Guide to Reheat Tacos:

The most effective method to Warm Meat Tacos in the Stove Tacos that have a dominatingly meat filling, (for example, tacos de chorizo or tacos de carnitas) are best warmed in the broiler. The intensity from the broiler will be sufficiently hot to kill any microbes that might have developed on the meat while away.

At the point when this strategy is followed accurately, you won't need to stress over the more fragile taco meats drying out in the stove when warmed:

Preheat The Broiler Before you get everything rolling, set your broiler to 175 C. Eliminate Cold Garnishes You won't have to eliminate all the taco fillings while warming delicate sell tacos in the broiler. However, you will need to eliminate any chilly garnishes, for example, crude tomato cuts or uncooked onions, to prevent them from getting soaked. Envelop By Foil Envelop every taco by tin foil, collapsing over the edges to keep however much intensity secured in the taco as could be expected. Place In Stove At the point when your stove is prepared, place the tacos in the focal point of your broiler, leaving holes between every taco. Warm Set a clock for 10 minutes and pass on tacos to heat up. Check Following 10 minutes, pull a taco to the front of the broiler and puncture the tin foil with a blade through to the center of the taco. Warm (Once more) On the off chance that the blade comes unconscious, warm the tacos for a further 10 minutes. On the off chance that not, jump to the following stage. Open up Being mindful of the hot steam, utilize some stove gloves to open up the foil from around the tacos. Reassemble Move the cooked tacos to serving plates and supplant the chilly garnishes prior to serving.

Hard Shell Tacos Loaded up With Meat

The most effective method to Warm Delicate Shell Tacos in the Microwave Could it be said that you are attempting to fix a headache or need to eat your extra Friday night tacos as a treat between contemplating? Your microwave is the ideal fast answer for your desires.

Inasmuch as you just utilize this strategy to warm delicate shell tacos, you will have a flavorful treat in a matter of moments:

Clammy A Tea Towel Under cool water, run a dainty tea towel or a couple of paper towels. Just make them moist and not completely wet, as they will make your tacos saturated. Prep A Plate Organize the sodden towels on a microwavable plate. Leave no piece of the plate uncovered. Eliminate Cold Fixings Like the above strategy, eliminate any cool fixings or toppings from your taco that won't toll well when warmed. Arrange Tacos Place your tacos (with their fillings) on the covered plate. Attempt to stay away from any cross-over with the tacos. Set The Microwave Turn your microwave to 100 percent power or a high intensity and set a clock for 30 seconds. Warm Place the plate in the microwave and permit the tacos to warm. Warm (Once more) In the event that, following 30 seconds, you observe that the taco fillings are as yet cool, you should warm them independently. To do this, follow the extra strides beneath. Separate The Tacos Scratch out the taco fillings and spot them in a microwaveable bowl. Cover Utilizing plastic wrap or a dry tea towel, cover the highest point of the bowl to keep the filling from drying out. Warm Set your microwave to 75% power and warm the filling in 30-second stretches until steaming hot. Reassemble Reassemble the taco shells, filling and cold fixings on a perfect plate, then serve. Delicate Shell Tacos

The most effective method to Warm Tacos Effectively Warming tacos is a sufficiently straightforward errand permitting you to remember that scrumptious Friday night treat for quite a long time later. To capitalize on your tacos and to do such an exemplary feast equity the second time around, follow these couple of tips:

Try not to Warm Hard Shell Tacos In The Microwave - It is difficult to warm firm food in the microwave as the intensity doesn't appropriate similarly as in the broiler. In the event that you make a solid attempt shell tacos in the microwave, you will have a delicate and obnoxiously chewy taco shell. Utilize A Baking Dish - When you are warming in excess of several delicate shell tacos in the stove, you can utilize a baking dish to hold the tacos. This will make it simpler to eliminate various tacos when they are cooked rapidly. Is It Protected to Warm Tacos? Vegetable tacos are altogether protected to eat, either hot or cold, yet are vastly improved appreciated hot.

Concerning tacos with meat or fish fillings, you should warm them for them to be adequately protected to eat. Just eat tacos that have been saved in your ice chest for under 3 days.

Any other way, you could incidentally eat a few destructive microscopic organisms regardless of how well you warm them.

[craig144]

You're in the kitchen, looking for a way to clean those sticky wood cabinets. You've tried all the usual suspects— Furniture polish, vinegar, lemon juice, and even WD-40—but nothing seems to be working. What do you do? Don't worry; we've got you covered. This article will share the best way to clean sticky wood kitchen cabinets. We'll also share some tips on how to prevent them from becoming sticky in the first place. So let's get started! How to Clean Sticky Wood Kitchen Cabinets Prepare the Area and Materials Before you start, it's important to gather your materials and prepare the area. First, put on some gloves to protect your hands. Then, place a few newspapers or drop cloth on the work surface to protect it from the cleaning solution. Next, gather the following supplies: A degreasing dishwashing detergent An ammonia-based cleaner A sponge A soft cloth Hot water Apply the degreasing dishwashing detergent to the sponge and wipe down the cabinets. Be sure to focus on the areas that are the stickiest. Then, rinse the cabinets with hot water and dry them with a soft cloth. Clean Wood Cabinets With Mild Soap and Water The best way to clean your kitchen cabinets is to use a mild soap and water solution. Mix a small amount of soap in a water bowl, and use a cloth or sponge to wipe down your cabinets. Be sure to pay extra attention to the most sticky areas, as they will likely require a little more elbow grease. Once you've cleaned the cabinets, rinse them with cool water and dry them with a cloth or paper towel. Remove Stubborn Grease and Grime With a Homemade Solution The next step is to mix 1/4 cup of mineral oil with 1/4 cup of white vinegar. Dip a soft cloth into the mixture and wring it out, so it's not dripping wet. Wipe down the cabinets, using circular motions, until the greasy film is gone. If the cabinets are dirty and there are many build-ups, you can let the mixture sit on the surface for a minute or two before wiping it off. Be sure to dry the cabinets with a clean cloth when you're done. Dealing With Sticky Residue or Built-Up Dirt The next step is to deal with any sticky residue or built-up dirt on the cabinets. You'll need dish soap, warm water, and a soft cloth or brush. Start by creating a cleaning solution by mixing two tablespoons of dish soap with warm water in a bowl. Then, dip your cloth into the solution and wring it out, so it's damp but not soaked. Gently rub the cabinets in circular motions and let the soap do its job of removing the grime. If the grime is especially stubborn, try scrubbing it lightly with a soft-bristled brush. If that doesn't work, you might have to break out more heavy-duty products like mineral spirits or orange oil cleaner. Whatever you do, make sure not to be too rough, as this could damage your beautiful wood cabinets! The Best Solution for Dust Buildup on Wood Cabinets If your wood kitchen cabinets have developed a thick layer of dust, using a soft cloth and some warm water is the best way to remove them. Start by dampening the cloth with warm water, then gently wipe down the cabinets. Avoid scrubbing too hard, as this may lead to scratches and damage. Once you've finished wiping down the surfaces, you can use a microfiber cloth or other lint-free material to remove any remaining dust and dirt. If you're still struggling with sticky residues on your kitchen cabinets, you can use white vinegar and water in equal parts to create a homemade cleaning solution. Apply this mixture directly onto the surface of the cabinet and let it sit for a few minutes before wiping it away with a damp cloth. This should help remove any buildup that's been left behind. Finish Off the Job: Cleaning, Waxing, or Polishing Once you’ve wiped down the cabinets, it’s time to finish the job. Depending on the type of cabinet finish you have, this could mean waxing, polishing, or cleaning. Cleaning: For cabinets that have been coated with a varnish or lacquer finish, clean them with mild soap or detergent and warm water.

You can also use mineral oil to help retain moisture and prevent the build-up of dirt. Waxing: To protect wood cabinets from wear and tear, use a wood wax or wood polish to add an extra layer of protection. This will also give your cabinets a polished look that will last longer than other finishes. Polishing: If your cabinets are made of real wood and stained or sealed with a sealant, then polishing is necessary to keep your cabinets looking shiny and new. Use a soft cloth buffered with a good quality wax to polish them up. You can also buy specialized cleaning products designed specifically for wood cabinets—follow all directions carefully before using them! Conclusion Well, we hope you found this post helpful! If you have any tips or tricks, please share them in the comments section below—we’d love to hear from you. And once again, thanks for reading!

[robert98]

You're in the kitchen, looking for a way to clean those sticky wood cabinets. You've tried all the usual suspects— Furniture polish, vinegar, lemon juice, and even WD-40—but nothing seems to be working. What do you do? Don't worry; we've got you covered. This article will share the best way to clean sticky wood kitchen cabinets. We'll also share some tips on how to prevent them from becoming sticky in the first place. So let's get started! How to Clean Sticky Wood Kitchen Cabinets Prepare the Area and Materials Before you start, it's important to gather your materials and prepare the area. First, put on some gloves to protect your hands. Then, place a few newspapers or drop cloth on the work surface to protect it from the cleaning solution. Next, gather the following supplies: A degreasing dishwashing detergent An ammonia-based cleaner A sponge A soft cloth Hot water Apply the degreasing dishwashing detergent to the sponge and wipe down the cabinets. Be sure to focus on the areas that are the stickiest. Then, rinse the cabinets with hot water and dry them with a soft cloth. Clean Wood Cabinets With Mild Soap and Water The best way to clean your kitchen cabinets is to use a mild soap and water solution. Mix a small amount of soap in a water bowl, and use a cloth or sponge to wipe down your cabinets. Be sure to pay extra attention to the most sticky areas, as they will likely require a little more elbow grease. Once you've cleaned the cabinets, rinse them with cool water and dry them with a cloth or paper towel. Remove Stubborn Grease and Grime With a Homemade Solution The next step is to mix 1/4 cup of mineral oil with 1/4 cup of white vinegar. Dip a soft cloth into the mixture and wring it out, so it's not dripping wet. Wipe down the cabinets, using circular motions, until the greasy film is gone. If the cabinets are dirty and there are many build-ups, you can let the mixture sit on the surface for a minute or two before wiping it off. Be sure to dry the cabinets with a clean cloth when you're done. Dealing With Sticky Residue or Built-Up Dirt The next step is to deal with any sticky residue or built-up dirt on the cabinets. You'll need dish soap, warm water, and a soft cloth or brush. Start by creating a cleaning solution by mixing two tablespoons of dish soap with warm water in a bowl. Then, dip your cloth into the solution and wring it out, so it's damp but not soaked. Gently rub the cabinets in circular motions and let the soap do its job of removing the grime. If the grime is especially stubborn, try scrubbing it lightly with a soft-bristled brush. If that doesn't work, you might have to break out more heavy-duty products like mineral spirits or orange oil cleaner. Whatever you do, make sure not to be too rough, as this could damage your beautiful wood cabinets! The Best Solution for Dust Buildup on Wood Cabinets If your wood kitchen cabinets have developed a thick layer of dust, using a soft cloth and some warm water is the best way to remove them. Start by dampening the cloth with warm water, then gently wipe down the cabinets. Avoid scrubbing too hard, as this may lead to scratches and damage. Once you've finished wiping down the surfaces, you can use a microfiber cloth or other lint-free material to remove any remaining dust and dirt. If you're still struggling with sticky residues on your kitchen cabinets, you can use white vinegar and water in equal parts to create a homemade cleaning solution. Apply this mixture directly onto the surface of the cabinet and let it sit for a few minutes before wiping it away with a damp cloth. This should help remove any buildup that's been left behind. Finish Off the Job: Cleaning, Waxing, or Polishing Once you’ve wiped down the cabinets, it’s time to finish the job. Depending on the type of cabinet finish you have, this could mean waxing, polishing, or cleaning. Cleaning: For cabinets that have been coated with a varnish or lacquer finish, clean them with mild soap or detergent and warm water.

You can also use mineral oil to help retain moisture and prevent the build-up of dirt. Waxing: To protect wood cabinets from wear and tear, use a wood wax or wood polish to add an extra layer of protection. This will also give your cabinets a polished look that will last longer than other finishes. Polishing: If your cabinets are made of real wood and stained or sealed with a sealant, then polishing is necessary to keep your cabinets looking shiny and new. Use a soft cloth buffered with a good quality wax to polish them up. You can also buy specialized cleaning products designed specifically for wood cabinets—follow all directions carefully before using them! Conclusion Well, we hope you found this post helpful! If you have any tips or tricks, please share them in the comments section below—we’d love to hear from you. And once again, thanks for reading!

[cress857]

You're in the kitchen, looking for a way to clean those sticky wood cabinets. You've tried all the usual suspects— Furniture polish, vinegar, lemon juice, and even WD-40—but nothing seems to be working. What do you do? Don't worry; we've got you covered. This article will share the best way to clean sticky wood kitchen cabinets. We'll also share some tips on how to prevent them from becoming sticky in the first place. So let's get started! How to Clean Sticky Wood Kitchen Cabinets Prepare the Area and Materials Before you start, it's important to gather your materials and prepare the area. First, put on some gloves to protect your hands. Then, place a few newspapers or drop cloth on the work surface to protect it from the cleaning solution. Next, gather the following supplies: A degreasing dishwashing detergent An ammonia-based cleaner A sponge A soft cloth Hot water Apply the degreasing dishwashing detergent to the sponge and wipe down the cabinets. Be sure to focus on the areas that are the stickiest. Then, rinse the cabinets with hot water and dry them with a soft cloth. Clean Wood Cabinets With Mild Soap and Water The best way to clean your kitchen cabinets is to use a mild soap and water solution. Mix a small amount of soap in a water bowl, and use a cloth or sponge to wipe down your cabinets. Be sure to pay extra attention to the most sticky areas, as they will likely require a little more elbow grease. Once you've cleaned the cabinets, rinse them with cool water and dry them with a cloth or paper towel. Remove Stubborn Grease and Grime With a Homemade Solution The next step is to mix 1/4 cup of mineral oil with 1/4 cup of white vinegar. Dip a soft cloth into the mixture and wring it out, so it's not dripping wet. Wipe down the cabinets, using circular motions, until the greasy film is gone. If the cabinets are dirty and there are many build-ups, you can let the mixture sit on the surface for a minute or two before wiping it off. Be sure to dry the cabinets with a clean cloth when you're done. Dealing With Sticky Residue or Built-Up Dirt The next step is to deal with any sticky residue or built-up dirt on the cabinets. You'll need dish soap, warm water, and a soft cloth or brush. Start by creating a cleaning solution by mixing two tablespoons of dish soap with warm water in a bowl. Then, dip your cloth into the solution and wring it out, so it's damp but not soaked. Gently rub the cabinets in circular motions and let the soap do its job of removing the grime. If the grime is especially stubborn, try scrubbing it lightly with a soft-bristled brush. If that doesn't work, you might have to break out more heavy-duty products like mineral spirits or orange oil cleaner. Whatever you do, make sure not to be too rough, as this could damage your beautiful wood cabinets! The Best Solution for Dust Buildup on Wood Cabinets If your wood kitchen cabinets have developed a thick layer of dust, using a soft cloth and some warm water is the best way to remove them. Start by dampening the cloth with warm water, then gently wipe down the cabinets. Avoid scrubbing too hard, as this may lead to scratches and damage. Once you've finished wiping down the surfaces, you can use a microfiber cloth or other lint-free material to remove any remaining dust and dirt. If you're still struggling with sticky residues on your kitchen cabinets, you can use white vinegar and water in equal parts to create a homemade cleaning solution. Apply this mixture directly onto the surface of the cabinet and let it sit for a few minutes before wiping it away with a damp cloth. This should help remove any buildup that's been left behind. Finish Off the Job: Cleaning, Waxing, or Polishing Once you’ve wiped down the cabinets, it’s time to finish the job. Depending on the type of cabinet finish you have, this could mean waxing, polishing, or cleaning. Cleaning: For cabinets that have been coated with a varnish or lacquer finish, clean them with mild soap or detergent and warm water.

You can also use mineral oil to help retain moisture and prevent the build-up of dirt. Waxing: To protect wood cabinets from wear and tear, use a wood wax or wood polish to add an extra layer of protection. This will also give your cabinets a polished look that will last longer than other finishes. Polishing: If your cabinets are made of real wood and stained or sealed with a sealant, then polishing is necessary to keep your cabinets looking shiny and new. Use a soft cloth buffered with a good quality wax to polish them up. You can also buy specialized cleaning products designed specifically for wood cabinets—follow all directions carefully before using them! Conclusion Well, we hope you found this post helpful! If you have any tips or tricks, please share them in the comments section below—we’d love to hear from you. And once again, thanks for reading!

[marion485]

You're in the kitchen, looking for a way to clean those sticky wood cabinets. You've tried all the usual suspects— Furniture polish, vinegar, lemon juice, and even WD-40—but nothing seems to be working. What do you do? Don't worry; we've got you covered. This article will share the best way to clean sticky wood kitchen cabinets. We'll also share some tips on how to prevent them from becoming sticky in the first place. So let's get started! How to Clean Sticky Wood Kitchen Cabinets Prepare the Area and Materials Before you start, it's important to gather your materials and prepare the area. First, put on some gloves to protect your hands. Then, place a few newspapers or drop cloth on the work surface to protect it from the cleaning solution. Next, gather the following supplies: A degreasing dishwashing detergent An ammonia-based cleaner A sponge A soft cloth Hot water Apply the degreasing dishwashing detergent to the sponge and wipe down the cabinets. Be sure to focus on the areas that are the stickiest. Then, rinse the cabinets with hot water and dry them with a soft cloth. Clean Wood Cabinets With Mild Soap and Water The best way to clean your kitchen cabinets is to use a mild soap and water solution. Mix a small amount of soap in a water bowl, and use a cloth or sponge to wipe down your cabinets. Be sure to pay extra attention to the most sticky areas, as they will likely require a little more elbow grease. Once you've cleaned the cabinets, rinse them with cool water and dry them with a cloth or paper towel. Remove Stubborn Grease and Grime With a Homemade Solution The next step is to mix 1/4 cup of mineral oil with 1/4 cup of white vinegar. Dip a soft cloth into the mixture and wring it out, so it's not dripping wet. Wipe down the cabinets, using circular motions, until the greasy film is gone. If the cabinets are dirty and there are many build-ups, you can let the mixture sit on the surface for a minute or two before wiping it off. Be sure to dry the cabinets with a clean cloth when you're done. Dealing With Sticky Residue or Built-Up Dirt The next step is to deal with any sticky residue or built-up dirt on the cabinets. You'll need dish soap, warm water, and a soft cloth or brush. Start by creating a cleaning solution by mixing two tablespoons of dish soap with warm water in a bowl. Then, dip your cloth into the solution and wring it out, so it's damp but not soaked. Gently rub the cabinets in circular motions and let the soap do its job of removing the grime. If the grime is especially stubborn, try scrubbing it lightly with a soft-bristled brush. If that doesn't work, you might have to break out more heavy-duty products like mineral spirits or orange oil cleaner. Whatever you do, make sure not to be too rough, as this could damage your beautiful wood cabinets! The Best Solution for Dust Buildup on Wood Cabinets If your wood kitchen cabinets have developed a thick layer of dust, using a soft cloth and some warm water is the best way to remove them. Start by dampening the cloth with warm water, then gently wipe down the cabinets. Avoid scrubbing too hard, as this may lead to scratches and damage. Once you've finished wiping down the surfaces, you can use a microfiber cloth or other lint-free material to remove any remaining dust and dirt. If you're still struggling with sticky residues on your kitchen cabinets, you can use white vinegar and water in equal parts to create a homemade cleaning solution. Apply this mixture directly onto the surface of the cabinet and let it sit for a few minutes before wiping it away with a damp cloth. This should help remove any buildup that's been left behind. Finish Off the Job: Cleaning, Waxing, or Polishing Once you’ve wiped down the cabinets, it’s time to finish the job. Depending on the type of cabinet finish you have, this could mean waxing, polishing, or cleaning. Cleaning: For cabinets that have been coated with a varnish or lacquer finish, clean them with mild soap or detergent and warm water.

You can also use mineral oil to help retain moisture and prevent the build-up of dirt. Waxing: To protect wood cabinets from wear and tear, use a wood wax or wood polish to add an extra layer of protection. This will also give your cabinets a polished look that will last longer than other finishes. Polishing: If your cabinets are made of real wood and stained or sealed with a sealant, then polishing is necessary to keep your cabinets looking shiny and new. Use a soft cloth buffered with a good quality wax to polish them up. You can also buy specialized cleaning products designed specifically for wood cabinets—follow all directions carefully before using them! Conclusion Well, we hope you found this post helpful! If you have any tips or tricks, please share them in the comments section below—we’d love to hear from you. And once again, thanks for reading!