#fabric sofa cleaner

[mysteamgreencarpetcleaning]

Uncover the Hidden Benefits of Eco-Friendly Sofa Cleaning Methods by My Steam Green

Welcome to the realm of My Steam Green, where we unveil the enchanting world of eco-friendly sofa cleaning and its hidden treasures! Beyond the surface, our eco-conscious methods work their magic, banishing stains and odors, while nurturing the very fabric of your beloved sofa. Embrace the allure of a greener choice as our skilled artisans harness the power of nature to rejuvenate your living space. Delight in a fresher, healthier home, knowing that every clean is a step towards preserving the beauty of our planet. Join us on this journey of sustainability, where your sofa is not just clean, but also a testament to your commitment to a cleaner world. Choose My Steam Green for a transformative sofa cleaning experience that leaves your heart and home beaming with eco-pride!

My Steam Green Carpet Cleaning

United States

800-935-6705

[moongothic]

I have a lot of scrap materials. Scrap wood, foam, fabric, and god knows what else. Just, a lot of leftovers from previous projects.

So I figured I could try to MAKE something out of them, just to put those materials into use so they could become something instead of just sitting around uselessly, taking space and collecting dust.

I thought making a footstool could be a fun, easy-ish project for me to do this winter.

So here, come along with me on this journey of making a wonky, scrap footstool

So key thing here is that I very specifically wanted to avoid buying ANYTHING for this project. I did end up buying two things, a pullsaw (which is a general tool I can use in other projects, so I figured I could get away with it), and one itty bitty thing that ended up costing like, what, 2€?

But yes, my goal was to use things I already have and give them a purpose, not accumulate any MORE scrap materials. This is important because through out this project I ended up using many Unideal Methods For Doing Things, mainly because I didn't have enough material to do it The Ideal Way.

This is not a tutorial for efficiency, this is my journey to repurpose garbage. Just wanna be clear about that. There are better ways to build a footstool.

Anyway, I started the project from arguably the weirdest part; figuring out how much fabric I had from the chair project

The thing was that I wanted to make the footstool as big as I possibly could with the material I had, so I had to start this project by figuring out the maximum size I could do with the fabric I had.

So I figured out the dimensions I could do (even cut the fabric pieces while I was at it), and then using those dimensions as a guide, I went off to figure out the wood pieces I would need for the frame of the stool, as well as the feet. Once I had things measured out, I cut the pieces and boom

Wood pieces obtained.

Sidenote, yes, a 90 degree angle on the corners would have looked much prettier than what I did, I just figured that this would be easier to cut (I cut those pieces before I bought my new pullsaw), also, I wasn't sure how I would perma-attach the pieces if the corners were done like that. Like, with these corners, I could fortify them with dowels or nails or whatever, but clean corners at an angle? I have no idea how to pull that off, and I don't have the energy to to try anything fancy, man, I wanted this to be semi-easy

(There was no way in hell I was gonna attempt somekinda dovetail joint here, I didn't have enough wood to work with (there was a point where I was actually worried I wouldn't have enough wood to build the frame at all) and god knows I'm nowhere near good enough at wood working to pull something like that off)

Anyway, I did originally intend to attach the wood pieces with dowels, since they'd be hidden and look neat (by not being visible at all), but when I drilled the first hole for the first dowel, I realized that 1) I didn't have a drill bit large enough for the dowel to fit in, and 2) I did not have it in me to actually do it. Like, to make sure the wood pieces would allign correct I would have to make sure I was drilling Very Straight into the wood, not once, not four times, but 16 times (since I was planning on using 2 dowels at each joint). If I didn't drill the dowel holes perfectly straight and perfectly aligned, the frame wouldn't come together, and I did not want to risk fucking that up, man, no

So I took the easy way out.

Nails.

I do kinda regret picking these nails, I should've used less obvious ones OR waited until the wood was painted before nailing them together because these are kinda pretty nails, so it ended up being kind of a waste to use them (since there was no way I was gonna AVOID these nails while painting the wood). IDK I was worried the glue alone wouldn't hold the wood strong enough while I was working with the frame or something and chose poorly here. But it is what it is. (On the plus side, we seemed to have exactly 12 of these nails, which was the exact perfect amount)

Anyways, yes, I chose to paint the frame because I have leftover paint (and primer) from the previous project so I figured I might as well use it up. Even though I hate this fucking paint so much

Two or three coats of primer, a gentle sanding after them, the wood was perfectly smooth and lovely

Then came the paint and it looks like shit, just like last time

I did like. What, four coats of paint. Sanding between the coats. Dilluting it so it wouldn't be so thick. And yet. And yet it looks like shit. Just like last time, with the chair I refinished. I mean I knew it was gonna turn out like ass but I'm still kind of shocked by how bad it turned out.

Anyway. Ideally you'd probably make a cushion onto some random piece of plywood (or something similar) that you would slot into the frame of the stool. I did not have any plywood pieces, nor did I have enough wood to make a small, thinner frame to slot into the main frame. So.

To create a bottom I used this ribbon that I have an entire fuckload of (since I bought it for that fucking lamp before realizing I couldn't use it and couldn't return either, literally have nothing better to do with it so here it goes) to weave a bottom onto the frame. And a bit later I attached a piece of fabric on top of the weaving (another leftover from the lamp project), as this would be what I'd glue the cushion onto.

But first, I had to make a cushion!

As you can see, I have a lot of scrap foam

(Yes I've kept the original foam from the styrofoam chair, I did cut it down to get rid of the damaged edges (after taking this photo) but otherwise the foam is fine, shhhhhh) (Also the white foam is what I bought for the chair project, the yellow foam is something my mom had bought years ago that we've had laying around for ages)

I wanted the cushion of the stool to have some height to it, but I didn't have any thick pieces of foam, so I figured I could just make a thick foam piece from the scraps I had, with some help from the foam glue I have (the same stuff I bought for the styrofoam chair but wasn't able to use since it melted the styrofoam).

Started by figuring out the rough dimensions of the foam piece I'd need (from the biggest, cleanest piece I had)

And I got started making a Foam Sandwich

Let me tell you my hands were an absolute mess during this whole process, I was essentially washing my hands with fucking nail polish remover (I just noticed the foam glue smelled like nail polish remover and realized it would probably get rid of the residue on my hands, which it did, thank fuck), it was nasty

But yes, Big Foam Sammich. I did start lowkey cutting it WHILE I was building the cushion, since my goal here was to not waste materials so. Y'know. I tried to make sure I wouldn't waste materials.

After the cushion was formed, I let it dry for a good while before I went in to shave the edges and cut it down. After that I used this floofier scrap foam to cover the sandwich. I could have glued it on, but I figured I had killed enough of my braincells while making the foam sandwich and breathing in the glue fumes that I decided that sewing would be good enough.

Two flooffy foam pieces were enough to cover the cushion, I just sewed them together on top and sewed them to the bottom of the cushion. It was quite easy indeed.

With that all done, I could attach the finished cushion onto the frame!

Brought the glue back out so I could just glue the foam onto the fabric that was stapled onto the frame, and I allowed it to dry (upside down, with some weights)

And yes, ideally you would staple the foam down onto a separate piece of wood, but since it was going directly on top of the frame and I didn't want to staple it onto the frame, I didn't. I wanted the wood (and my shitty paint job) to be visible, and the fabric would need to be stapled onto the frame anyways, so the glue just had to do the job here.

ANYWAY, UPHOLSTERY TIME

Since the fabric pieces were long done, I could just get straight into it. I pinned the fabric pieces down and handsewed the whole thing. I do admit I regret not ironing the fabric before I started though, I forgot and by the time I realized it was too late, and there was no way I was going to lift the fabric off the stool at this point. I learned my god damn lesson with the styrofoam chair, I know there would've been no way for me to put the fabric back down as neatly as it had been before, it was not worth it.

Anyway, I sewed the fabric and to finish things off I stapled the bottom of the fabric down, onto the frame. And yes I did a wonky ass job, shush

And here comes the one thing I ended up buying for this project, the thing that cost me like 2€

Decorative ribbon to hide the staples! Since I couldn't think of any other way to hide the staples.

And y'all, I understand now why people normally just glue this shit on, it took me like FIVE FUCKING HOURS to sew the ribbon onto the stool!! Mainly because my smallest upholstery needle was WAY too big for this job, and my thinner straight needless were too hard to use for this. My fingers were hurting so bad even the next day, like I understand what thimbles are for now, holy shit

Also. I did not have black sewing thread. So I ended up using yellow thread and then gently went over it with a black (waterproof) marker so the thread wouldn't be visible over the ribbon. (I didn't take photos of it so you'll just have to take my word for it)

So yeah. Shit took forever, I wish I had a hotglue gun but I don't, so it just had to be done the hard way. All things considdered though, it worked out alright, and the ribbon is nice and secure on the stool.

Now, you might've noticed that I haven't mentioned doing anything to the feet of the stool. That's because I haven't finished them.

It's the middle of winter. It's cold. I can't be bothered to go outside to stand the cold for hours to finish the feet of the stool. I need to shape them, I need to sand them, I need to make sure they're all the same lenght etc, all this before I can even prime and paint them and attach them to the frame. But since I can't access our patio, I can't use my orbital sander to speed things up. And I can't be bothered to do all that word by sanding the wood by hand. I am far too lazy for that man, nah

So I'm going to finish this project when the weather gets nicer and our patio isn't covered in a meter of snow.

I'll finish the feet of the footstool later.

So there will probably be a follow up to this post later

But yeah, here's my unideal, imperfect footstool, made almost entirely out of scrap materials.

It looks like ass, but hey I've never tried to build a piece of furniture before, give me a break, I'm a comic artist not a furniture maker

[housekeepinginfo]

The Best Couch Cleaners - According To Our Testing

Spills and stains happen, but you can clean them up with an upholstery cleaner. These cleaners work on many things, like furniture and car interiors. We tested 23 cleaners to find the best ones for you.

We looked at how well they work, how easy they are to carry, and how quiet they are. We also checked their value and how easy they are to use.

[diamondsteamcleaning]

Revitalize Your Space with Professional Steam Cleaners in Melbourne!

Discover the epitome of cleanliness and freshness for your Melbourne home or business with Diamond's Steam Cleaning Services. Our expert steam cleaners employ cutting-edge technology and proven techniques to restore your carpets, upholstery, and floors to their pristine condition. Say goodbye to stubborn stains, odors, and allergens, and hello to a rejuvenated living or working environment. Trust Diamond's for unparalleled steam cleaning excellence in Melbourne. Visit our website to learn more!

URL: https://www.diamondsteamcleaning.com.au/steam-cleaners-in-melbourne/

Tags: #SteamCleaning #MelbourneCleaners #ProfessionalCleaning #HomeMaintenance #CleanLiving #UpholsteryCleaning #CarpetCare

[brightcouchcleaningsunshinecoast]

Expert Fabric Sofa Cleaning Secrets for Sunshine Coast Homeowners

A sofa is not just a piece of furniture; it's a focal point in your living space, providing comfort and style. However, with regular use, fabric sofas can accumulate dirt, stains, and allergens, affecting both their appearance and longevity. In this article, we'll delve into expert fabric sofa cleaning secrets for Sunshine Coast homeowners.

Importance of Regular Sofa Cleaning

Regular sofa cleaning is essential for maintaining a healthy and aesthetically pleasing living environment. Not only does it enhance the appearance of your furniture, but it also eliminates allergens, dust mites, and bacteria that can accumulate over time. Additionally, proper maintenance can extend the lifespan of your fabric sofa, saving you money in the long run.

Understanding Fabric Types

Fabric sofas come in a variety of materials, each requiring specific care and cleaning techniques. Before embarking on the cleaning process, it's crucial to identify the type of fabric used in your sofa. Common fabric types include linen, cotton, polyester, and leather, each with its own set of characteristics and cleaning requirements.

Preparing for Cleaning

Before diving into the cleaning process, gather all necessary supplies, including a vacuum cleaner with upholstery attachments, mild detergent, white vinegar, and a soft-bristled brush. It's also advisable to perform a pre-test on a small, inconspicuous area of your sofa to ensure that the cleaning solution doesn't cause any damage.

Step-by-Step Cleaning Process

Vacuuming: Begin by thoroughly vacuuming the entire surface of your sofa to remove loose dirt, dust, and debris.

Stain removal: Treat any stains or spots on your sofa using a mild detergent or a mixture of white vinegar and water. Blot the stain gently with a clean cloth, being careful not to rub it further into the fabric.

Deep cleaning: For a deeper clean, use a fabric-specific upholstery cleaner or create your own solution using mild detergent and warm water. Test the solution on a small area before applying it to the entire sofa. Using a soft-bristled brush, gently scrub the fabric in a circular motion, then wipe away excess moisture with a clean, damp cloth.

Drying: Allow your sofa to air dry completely before placing any cushions or throws back onto it. Avoid using heat sources such as hair dryers, as they can damage the fabric.

Tips for Maintenance

To keep your fabric sofa looking its best, follow these maintenance tips:

Regular vacuuming: Remove surface dirt and debris at least once a week to prevent buildup.

Addressing stains promptly: Deal with spills and stains immediately to prevent them from setting into the fabric.

Professional cleaning: Consider hiring a professional upholstery cleaner annually for a thorough deep clean and stain removal.

DIY (Do it Yourself) vs. Professional Cleaning

While DIY (Do it Yourself) cleaning methods can be effective for routine maintenance, there are certain advantages to hiring a professional upholstery cleaner. Professionals have access to specialized equipment and cleaning solutions, ensuring a deeper clean and more thorough stain removal. Additionally, professional cleaning can prolong the lifespan of your sofa and maintain its appearance over time.

Conclusion

In conclusion, regular cleaning and maintenance are essential for preserving the beauty and longevity of your fabric sofa. By understanding your sofa's fabric type and following expert cleaning techniques, you can keep it looking fresh and inviting for years to come.

[sofacleaningadelaide]

Revive Your Fabric Sofa in Adelaide: The Ultimate Cleaning Hacks You Need to Know

Fabric sofas are a beloved addition to any home, providing comfort and style. However, with daily use, they can accumulate dirt, stains, and odors, diminishing their appeal and longevity. Adopting professional fabric sofa cleaning service in Adelaide is essential for maintaining a fresh and inviting living space.

Understanding Fabric Sofa Cleaning

Not all fabric sofas are created equal. Understanding the type of fabric your sofa is made of is crucial for determining the appropriate cleaning methods. From delicate silk to durable polyester, each fabric requires specific care to prevent damage.

Common Sofa Cleaning Mistakes to Avoid

Many homeowners inadvertently make mistakes when attempting to clean their fabric sofas, leading to further damage. Avoiding these common pitfalls can help preserve the integrity of your furniture and extend its lifespan.

Pre-Cleaning Preparation

Before diving into the cleaning process, it's essential to gather the necessary tools and materials. From vacuum cleaners to gentle detergents, having everything on hand will streamline the cleaning process and ensure optimal results.

Spot Cleaning Techniques

Spills and stains are inevitable, but with the right techniques, they don't have to be permanent. From wine spills to pet accidents, there are effective methods for removing stubborn stains without causing damage to your fabric sofa.

Deep Cleaning Methods

For a thorough clean, deep cleaning methods are necessary to remove embedded dirt and grime. From steam cleaning to shampooing, these techniques penetrate deep into the fabric, restoring its original freshness.

DIY (Do it Yourself) Cleaning Solutions

For eco-conscious homeowners, DIY cleaning solutions offer an effective and environmentally friendly alternative to store-bought products. With simple ingredients like vinegar and baking soda, you can create powerful cleaning solutions that won't harm your fabric sofa or the environment.

Regular Maintenance Tips

Prevention is key when it comes to maintaining a clean fabric sofa. By implementing regular maintenance tips such as vacuuming and rotating cushions, you can prevent dirt and debris from accumulating and prolong the life of your furniture.

Professional Cleaning Services

In some cases, professional cleaning services may be necessary to tackle stubborn stains or deeply ingrained dirt. Professional cleaners have the expertise and equipment to revitalize your fabric sofa, leaving it looking and smelling fresh.

Extending the Lifespan of Your Fabric Sofa

With proper care and maintenance, your fabric sofa can withstand years of use without showing signs of wear and tear. From avoiding direct sunlight to fluffing cushions regularly, there are simple steps you can take to ensure your sofa remains in pristine condition for years to come.

Dealing with Odors

Unpleasant odors can quickly ruin the ambiance of your living space. Fortunately, there are effective methods for eliminating odors from fabric sofas, including baking soda and essential oils.

Protecting Your Sofa

Preventive measures such as using slipcovers and rotating cushions can help protect your fabric sofa from spills and stains. By taking proactive steps to safeguard your furniture, you can enjoy its beauty and comfort for years to come.

Conclusion

Keeping your fabric sofa clean is essential for maintaining a fresh and inviting living space. By following the ultimate cleaning hacks outlined above, you can revive your fabric sofa and enjoy its comfort and style for years to come.

FAQs

How often should I clean my fabric sofa?

It's recommended to vacuum your fabric sofa weekly and perform a deep clean every 6-12 months, depending on usage.

Can I use bleach to clean my fabric sofa?

No, bleach can damage fabric and should be avoided. Instead, opt for gentle cleaning solutions specifically designed for upholstery.

Are professional cleaning services expensive?

The cost of professional cleaning services varies depending on the size of your sofa and the extent of cleaning required. However, many companies offer competitive rates and discounts for regular customers.

Will cleaning my fabric sofa remove its water-resistant coating?

It's possible that some cleaning methods may compromise the water-resistant coating of your sofa. However, you can reapply a water-resistant spray after cleaning to maintain its protective properties.

How can I prevent my fabric sofa from fading?

To prevent fading, avoid placing your sofa in direct sunlight and rotate cushions regularly to distribute wear evenly.

[keenupholsterycleaningcanberra]

Renew Your Fabric Sofa: Cleaning Services in Canberra

Revitalize your fabric sofa with our expert fabric sofa cleaning services in Canberra. Say goodbye to embedded dirt and stains as we refresh your upholstery, leaving it looking and feeling like new. Our meticulous approach ensures a deep clean, restoring the beauty and comfort of your sofa. Renew your fabric sofa today!

For More information:

[sheencleaning]

Revive Your Outdoor Space with the Ultimate Outdoor Fabric Cleaner

Experience the power of our premium Outdoor Fabric Cleaner. Safely and effectively remove stubborn stains, dirt, and grime from your outdoor furniture, cushions, and fabrics. Restore their original beauty and enjoy a fresh, clean outdoor space with our trusted Outdoor Fabric Cleaner.

[dwsofacleaning]

DW Sofa Cleaning Singapore

Address : 1090 Lower Delta Road #03-07R Singapore 169201

Phone : +65 6232 6613

Website : https://dwsofacleaning.com

DW Sofa Cleaning Singapore offers you a one-stop solution for your sofa cleaning needs in Singapore. Our professional and reliable services include sofa deep cleaning, sofa stain removal, and upholstery cleaning. Our professional sofa cleaning specialists will ensure to perform the cleaning services professionally. Check out our articles for an extensive view of our services and cleaning tips. Do not hesitate to call us or contact us via Whatsapp at +65 8241 0032 to solve any of your sofa cleaning needs!

[mysteamgreencarpetcleaning]

Prolonging the Lifespan of Your Sofa with The Experts of My Steam Green Cleaning

When it comes to the care and maintenance of your beloved sofa. There is no better choice than the skilled professionals at My Steam Green Carpet Cleaning. Our expertise lies in the art of sofa cleaning and our goal is straightforward: to protect and preserve the lifespan of your cherished piece of furniture. By entrusting us with your sofa you not only guarantee a clean and sanitary living environment but also extend the longevity of your sofa. Enabling you to continue relishing in its comfort for many years. Experience the transformative effects of our specialized sofa cleaning services and let us demonstrate our exceptional abilities on your furniture today.

My Steam Green Carpet Cleaning

United States

800-935-6705

https://mysteamgreencarpetcleaning.com

[robynhoodwrites]

♛Within Reach♛

Expanding on the "Within Reach" Memoria, with smut at the end >:) (This is written from a first person point of view, with an AFAB and femme main character.)

Word Count: 6.5k

MINORS DNI! The following writing contains the following: smut, public sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, blowjob, Evol used during sex, mirror sex, half plot/half smut, jealousy on Sylus' end, mutual pining, he is possessive (in the hot way, ofc), kinda rough sex.

My fingers run across the fabric of the dress, the silk material sliding beneath my fingertips gracefully. “This is from our spring collection. I don’t know if you saw, but a few celebrities wore dresses from that collection to the Linkon Gala when it first came out,” the saleswoman says, her smile a bit too wide not to be fake.

I nod, reveling in the wine-red color of the fabric. My hands skim along the sides until they reach a price tag hanging from the collar. When I notice the price, a grimace spreads across my face. I hang the dress back up on the wall, a sigh leaving my frowning lips. The saleswoman notices this, tutting lightly under her breath.

“On second thought, why don’t you just browse over here in the clearance section while I finish stocking over here,” she says, her wide grin not leaving her face. Ouch. I just nod in response as she prances away, my eyes skimming the racks in the clearance section. Even these are a bit too expensive…

The pressure is on for this shopping trip. I have to make sure I look good for Romero’s party, especially considering that Sylus is going to be accompanying me. I didn’t technically invite him, but he took the initiative and invited himself. Honestly, I’m kind of glad he did. I can be a bit bad at that stuff sometimes.

As if thinking about Sylus had summoned him, I hear a crow’s caw come from my pocket. I take it out to find that Sylus is calling me, his face now illuminating my screen. Asshole must have changed my ringtone. I press the answer button, my mood brightening involuntarily as I place the phone against my ear.

“Did you change my ringtone?” I ask, a smile flitting across my face. I hear a dark chuckle from the other end, and I feel the butterflies in my stomach start to flutter rampantly. I have got to get this crush under control.

“I thought this one was so much more interesting. Now you’ll think of me no matter who calls,” he drawls, and I can hear the grin in his voice. God damn it, he’s not even here and I’m blushing. “Listen, I’m at the boutique by your work, on the top floor.”

I feel like my heart has stopped. “Wait, you’re here too? Did you do that on purpose?” I ask, a slight panic lining my voice. Sylus seems to pick up on this, another chuckle emanating from my phone’s speaker. “You totally did this on purpose,” I whine.

“See you in ten minutes, sweetie,” he insists, before hanging up and leaving me with a shiver down my spine. That asshole.

✧༺♛༻✧༺♛༻✧༺♛

The elevator finally slows to a stop, the door opening with a ding to reveal the top floor. I enter a waiting room of sorts, with a white and impeccably shiny tiled floor and several plush couches lining the walls. The room is empty save for two men, who are lounging on the sofas like they own the place.

“Luke, Kieran! Those couches are white! Get your feet off of them before you cover them in soot,” I nag, waving my hands in an annoying motion to get them to sit up properly. “The poor cleaners… Who knows where you two have been.”

“Oh, look. Mom’s here,” Luke jokes, and I turn to him with a fake frown on my face. He puts up his hands defensively, finally sitting up normally in his chair. Despite the mask, I can tell that a grin is spread across his face.

“I’m only a year older than you, asshole,” I mutter, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I flip him off, which only coaxes a giggle out of Luke. I shake my head at him, trying to fight the smile threatening to ruin my composure.

“If you keep it up, Luke, then I’m gonna take over as mom's favorite,” Kieran jokes back. I turn to him, reaching a hand down and rubbing it against his hair in an affectionate manner.

“You sure are buddy,” I say, leaning into the whole “mom” thing with a sigh. These two are idiots, but they’re so sweet that I can’t help but love them.

“Careful, you two. Sylus might rip you a new one if he sees you guys near each other,” Luke teases, and my hand immediately leaves Kieran’s hair. Besides Jenna, who has been on the receiving end of my ranting many times, these two are the only ones to know about how I feel towards Sylus. I didn’t actually tell them, but they have made it very apparent that they have figured it out.

“That’s it. Neither of you are my favorite anymore. Mephisto is in 1st place,” I mutter, moving towards the door at the end of the hall.

“Nice job, Luke. Now we’re losing to a fucking crow,” Kieran whines. Luke just throws a joking glare at him, resuming his lounging on the couch as he browses one of the many magazines on the table in front of him.

I just chuckle lightly beneath my breath before opening the door in front of me and closing it behind me with a click. The room I enter is quite large, with several changing rooms lining the walls. There is a table covered in different fabrics, several of them glittering under the fluorescent light above me. My eyes finally land on Sylus, who is standing in front of a large, floor-length mirror in the center of the room.

“Long time, no see,” he announces, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. He smiles, and my heart begins its palpitations again.

“It really hasn’t been that long,” I mutter, slowly walking closer to him as I take the room in.

“And yet why does it feel like an eternity? Does time fly when you’re around?” he asks, turning to face me finally. Shit. He has to know what he’s doing. A blush creeps onto my cheeks, and there is no way Sylus hasn’t noticed.

I don’t know what to say, simply standing there and staring at him like a statue. He doesn’t break eye contact, instead holding up two ties. He holds a solid red tie in one hand, the other clutching a light blue striped tie. “Which one?” he asks, holding each up to his neck in turn.

I walk up to him, barely thinking before wrapping the red one around his neck. My fingers work slowly, tying it in an intricate knot and pulling it tight around his neck. His gaze never leaves my face, his eyes burning holes in my skin. I can’t bring myself to look at him, knowing that one glance at him will surely bring me to a puddle beneath his feet.

I fiddle with the silk material of the tie, finally working up the courage to meet his gaze. “The red. It matches your eyes,” I mutter, before stepping back and distracting myself with the table of assorted fabrics. He chuckles, following me closely and examining some of the fabrics himself.

“I’ll have to pick a suit to match the tie, then. Wouldn’t want me to take you to that party with a mismatched outfit, now would we?” he asks, his fingers finding a black fabric and rubbing his thumb over it lightly.

“This is for Romero’s party?” I ask, stunned at the idea that he is buying an entirely new outfit just for me. No, not just for me. For the party. Don’t be delusional. He nods, taking the fabric and setting it aside.

“I wouldn’t want you to attend the party with me when I’m not looking my best. Not that I don’t always look my best, I just don’t want to take any chances,” he teases, setting the fabric on an empty table beside him. He takes off the tie, resting it neatly next to the fabric.

“Where’s all the staff? I figured you would have someone helping you pick things out,” I ask, my eyes scanning the empty boutique for any other signs of life.

“I sent everyone away. I don’t like to be bothered, and they do what I say since I’m a VIP. They should be sending in a tailor to take my measurements, though,” he boasts, never afraid to flex his wealth in front of me. He’s such an asshole. I want him so bad.

“Sylus, how did you know I would be here?” I ask, picking up a nearby object to fiddle with. If I don’t do something with my hands, the nervousness will show on my face. And I cannot have him knowing how nervous he makes me.

“I have Mephisto watch the entrance of every building I’m in, in case of an ambush. He spotted you when you walked in and came squawking to me immediately, the loyal bird,” he smiles, running a hand through his silvery hair. So, I have Mephisto to blame for this.

“I asked for the tailor 30 minutes ago, and he’s still a no-show. What kind of store treats its VIP guests this way?” he huffs, clearly growing impatient.

“How dare they? Don’t they know who you are?” I tease, finding any excuse I can to make fun of the spoiled brat in front of me. He gives me a dark look, making me stop in my tracks. My fidgeting stops, and he looks down at the item in my hands.

“Oh, perfect. Glad to see we have a volunteer to tailor me today,” he grins, and I look down to see that the item I was fiddling with was, in fact, measuring tape. Shit, how am I this stupid?

“But I don’t know how to tailor-” I begin, but he interrupts me by grabbing the tape from my hands and wrapping it around his bicep.

“You just measure the different sizes of my body, see? Anyone can do it,” he explains, taking the tape off of his bicep and showing me the measurement. I try to stay calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside, I am screaming. “See, I’ve already got one measurement done for you,” he says, a smirk playing across his lips.

“How generous,” I mutter, snatching the measuring tape from his hands. I sigh, looking from the tape to his sturdy form in front of me. I can do this.

“C’mon. It’ll save time,” Sylus insists, and I see a small glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Fine. If you insist, your outfit will be made according to the measurements I take. And no matter how it turns out, you have to wear it to the party. Deal?” I ask, hoping that this will scare him off. If I have to get up close and measure him, I might melt.

He chuckles, stretching out a hand to shake mine. “Deal,” he says, wrapping the hand around mine and giving it a gentle shake. He rifles through a drawer in the table next to him, producing a pen and paper from inside. “You can write the measurements in here. You’ll need my waist and chest for the shirt, and I have already done the arms for you. Then, for pants, you need my inseam, the outside length, and the thigh. Oh, and my ass,” he adds with a wink, only strengthening the redness in my face.

“God, you’re so lucky I’m such a good…” I freeze, struggling to find the word. “Friend,” I finish, trying to pull myself together. A flicker of something flits across his face, but I can’t tell exactly what. He hands me the pen and paper, leading me over to the mirror.

“Let’s start with the chest, then,” he offers, pulling his shirt up to reveal his sculpted abdomen. He doesn’t take his shirt all the way off, instead letting it rest just above his pecs.  

I can't help it- I start to stare. It takes all of my strength not to rub my hands along his torso, the defined abs rippling along his stomach calling to me like a siren song. This isn't the first time I've seen him shirtless, but it will be the first time I've ever gotten this close.

"Like what you see?" He asks, and my attention snaps back up to him. Shit, how long was I staring? I clear my throat, walking closer to him and resting the pen and paper on a nearby chair.

"Just... trying to decide where to start," I mumble, trying my hardest to brush past my obviousness. He chuckles but doesn't say anything else. There's no way that worked.

With my hands now free of everything but the measuring tape, I begin assessing his body for real this time. "I think I'll start at the chest," I tell him. That way, you can put your shirt down faster. And I can stop feeling like I'm going to explode.

"Whenever you're ready," he practically purrs, looking down at me expectedly. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, inching closer to him as I hold up the measuring tape. I try my best not to touch him, my hands struggling to reach around his torso.

"Don't be nervous. The closer you are, the more accurate," he tells me, placing a hand on the small of my back and pushing me closer to him. Calm down. The quicker you do this, the sooner it's over.

But what if I don't want it to be over?

I exhale, finally working up the courage to get closer to him. My hands wrap around his torso, his warm skin burning against my bare arms. I thread the tape around his back, coming forward to meet me in the front.

My fingers graze his skin lightly, and I hear him inhale sharply. I panic, looking up at him for the first time since I started measuring him. There is a look in his eyes that I have never seen from him before, and I'm unable to place exactly what emotion it is.

"Sorry," I mumble, worried I've upset him. I take the tape off and go to write the measurement down in the notebook.

"No, it's just... your hands are so cold," he mutters, his hands brushing where mine had just touched him. A smile graces his face, which makes me pause. Is he... enjoying this?

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. He's just messing with me. I move back over to where he is standing, my hands a bit more steady as I go to measure his waist. If he wants to mess with me, then I'll mess with him back.

I don't shy away from touching him now, my hands grazing along the sides of his hips as I thread the tape around his back once again. I watch as goosebumps rise on his skin, the hairs on his arms standing up ever so slightly.

I take the measurement, turning away to write it down in my book once again. I don't look at him, afraid that his gaze will take away the newfound confidence I've gained. Now, to move lower.

I get down on my knees in front of him, gulping slightly as I measure the circumference of his lower half. This time, I make sure not to touch him, my hands hovering slightly as they move around his backside. It's a shame. His ass is one of his best assets.

When I've taken that measurement, I move to the outside of his legs. Luckily, his tight jeans act as a barrier between me and his skin. That makes me feel a bit better about touching him, actually.

Finally, I move to the inseam. I start at his ankle, moving the tape up slowly along the length of his leg. When I finally look up, I realize how close my hand is getting to his crotch. I freeze for a moment, my face turning red.

"The closer you are, the more accurate." The memory of his words from earlier rings in my ear. I sigh, moving as high up as I can without straight up fondling him. My eyes finally rake up towards where the tape ends, his crotch directly in front of my face.

Is he hard right now, or is it just always straining against his jeans? No, stop. Friends don't think that way about friends. I take away the tape, hurriedly standing up and writing down the final measurement in my notebook.

I still cannot bring myself to make eye contact with him, the deep embarrassment leaving splotches of red along my face. "Okay, w-well, now we can get back to looking at fabrics," I say, trying to hide the embarrassment in my voice as I move to turn away from him.

He stops me, his hand gripping my wrist tightly. I drop the notebook in surprise, and he takes that moment to tilt my face up to look at him for the first time since I started measuring him.

"Wait," he begins, seeming to be searching for the right words. "We’re attending the party together. Our outfits should match," He tells me, his eyes still staring down at me with that same mystery twinkle in them.

"Well, I figure I can just pick out a red dress or something," I mumble, my head still resting in his hand. He tuts, releasing me to pick up the notebook and tape I dropped on the ground.

"No, we need to fully match. That way, no one will question who your date is for the night." He places the notebook carefully down on the chair, twirling the measuring tape intricately between his fingers.

"Oh," I nearly whisper, finally catching on to what he's implying. "I can't really afford to get something specially made... I'll just get one of the premade dresses."

"It's my treat, since I invited myself to this party," he smiles, giving me a look that screams "You don't have a choice in the matter." I nod, lost for words as he raises one of my arms. I gulp, the short sleeves of my dress making skin touch skin as his fingers run lightly up my arms.

He works painfully slow, his fingers tracing along my skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. I can't help the shudder that racks my body, which makes a small smirk play across Sylus' face.

I start to feel a small pool begin beneath my legs, and I have to bite my lip to keep from cursing myself out. Damn it, pull yourself together. He moves to my chest, his fingers not touching my breasts but getting so close that one slip would put his hand against me.

I hold my breath, and the prick keeps moving as painfully slow as he has been the entire time. "God, you're so slow with the measuring tape. I was nearly done by now when I was doing it," I mutter, and his eyes flick up to meet mine.

"I'm just trying to be precise, sweetie," he breathes, looking back down to get the measurement of my chest. He finally releases the measuring tape, an anxious breath quickly leaving my lungs as he moves to write down the data.

I shake my head again, trying to snap myself out of whatever trance he has put me in. The heat is still pooling beneath my legs, a blush spreading across my cheeks. Does he know what he's doing, or is he just an oblivious guy trying to be nice?

He resumes his work, wrapping the tape around my waist and jotting down the numbers. It is then that he gets on his knees, looking up at me from the ground with that same twinkle in his eyes.

It takes all my energy not to squeak from panic. Him on his knees in front of me... I stare down at him, the pool beneath my legs more akin to a river.

"I have to do your inseam now. You're wearing a dress, so I need your permission to put my hands under it."

My eyes widen, my breath halting yet again. The more embarrassed side of me is begging for me to stop him, but the rest of me is practically screaming for him to continue.

"Go ahead," I nearly whisper, and I flinch as his hand touches my skin yet again. He starts at my ankle, running the tape along the inside of my leg agonizingly slow. His fingers lightly drag along my skin, and a breath hitches in my throat.

"You're doing great," he murmurs, and my heart skips a beat in my chest. His hand finally reaches my knees, which is where my dress ends. He slides his hand under it, moving upwards towards my thighs.

I'm suddenly aware of the heat radiating off of my body, the warmth pooling between my legs, and his fingers moving further up into my dress. If you had told me earlier that this is where I would end up, I would've laughed in your face.

He finally reaches the top of my thigh, his thumb pressing down roughly on the tape.

And directly into the pool of my desire that has started to soak through my underwear.

His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes closing as he lets out a curse under his breath. I'm almost frozen in shock, my world seeming to crash down around me. He knows.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what-" I begin, but he grips my thigh with his hands, and the words die in my throat. His eyes flutter open, locking with mine in the mirror next to us.

"Is this all for me?" He asks, and I feel my heart start to pound out of my chest. What the fuck does that mean, Sylus?

"No. Yes. I'm so sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me," I begin, anxiety bubbling in my stomach. "It's just a crush, and I'll get over it, I promise. I know you don't feel that way-"

"Are you dense?" He asks, his grip loosening on my thigh ever so slightly.

"Excuse me?" I ask, looking down at him in shock.

"Have you not noticed the way I look at you? Have you not, for one second, thought about why I would invite myself to a birthday party for someone I have never met?"

I just shake my head, trying and failing to wrap my head around everything that is happening.

"It's because I cannot bear to sit alone at home while you go to that party. The idea of you all dolled up for another man? The thought of you smiling at him, laughing at his jokes..." he trails off, but the look in his eyes is distant. His grip tightens on my thigh yet again, this time from a desperate need.

"How long have you felt this way?" I ask, whispering as I look down at his face.

"Since the beginning. There is not one moment that I have not spent thinking about you, not one night that I have not been lying awake and picturing you. Your touch, your smell, how you must taste," he murmurs, his thumb tracing circles on my upper thigh, my excitement now coating his finger.

I can't help the moan that escapes from me, my legs feeling weak as he continues rubbing rough circles on my thigh. I finally recognize the twinkle of emotion that has been dotting his eyes.

It's hunger.

"I've felt e-exactly the same," I manage to squeak out. "God, I feel so s-stupid-" I begin, but he cuts me off with a rough grab of my thigh.

"Don't you dare. You're not stupid, just careful. That's one of the reasons I feel so strongly about you," he murmurs, looking up at me with a frown. The sparkle in his eyes is now a fire, threatening to burn me to ashes with just a look.

"You're perfect," he purrs, his thumb leaving from under my dress and entering his mouth. I fall to my knees in front of him, feeling weak as I watch him feast on my excitement.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this? To taste you?" He asks, his thumb finally leaving his mouth. I curse under my breath, taking his head in my hands.

I pull him towards me, our lips meeting in a fiery clash after months of anticipation. He lifts me onto his lap, my legs straddling him as I run my fingers through his silvery hair. I moan, and he takes the opportunity to bite my bottom lip.

He moves a hand to my waist, the other finding its way to the back of my head as he grips my hair. I groan, pushing him backward until he is lying on the shag carpet below us. I'm straddling his body now, lying on top of him and rubbing my hands under his shirt to feel his toned torso.

"Is it how you thought it would feel?" He asks, breaking the kiss to look up at me. I'm sure I look a mess, with swollen lips and ruined hair. But he looks at me like I'm the only person alive that he wants to be with.

"Better," I tell him, my lips finding his again. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to him as he slips his tongue into my mouth, exploring it like it would be the last time he ever would.

He grinds himself against me, his erection fighting against his tight jeans as it rubs into my pussy. I let out another moan, breaking the kiss, as I try to stifle the noise by biting his shirt.

"Stop that," he murmurs, pulling his shirt out of my mouth. "I want to hear you."

"We're in public, Sylus. What if another shopper comes in?" I ask, still fighting moans as he continues to grind himself against me.

"I rented the floor for the next hour. No one should be anywhere near us," he murmurs, moving his hands under my dress. I grab his hands, pinning them on the floor next to his head.

"Shouldn't we just go home?" I ask, and he smirks up at me. I feel something moving beneath my dress and look to see that he is using his tendrils of black smoke. They curl around my thighs, sparking pleasure through my body.

"I need you now," he nearly growls, his Evol pulling down my underwear in one fell swoop. I gasp in shock, and he uses my moment of weakness to flip us over. His hands are planted firmly on the ground beside my head, using his Evol to lift the bottom of my dress and expose my naked lower half.

The chill of the air conditioning blows across my exposed cunt, a shiver crawling up my spine in anticipation. Sylus moves one of his hands down to my thighs, dragging his fingers up and down lightly like he did before.

"Sylus, please," I moan, and he smiles devilishly down at me. His fingers finally make it up to my entrance, teasing me slowly by dragging them around the folds. I moan yet again, out of both pleasure and frustration.

He finally reaches the bundle of nerves at the top of my heat, circling his thumb around it slowly. My back arches, attempting to push myself even closer to him. He pulls away, tutting under his breath.

"Patience isn't your strong suit, is it?" He asks, his warm breath dancing along my face.

"I have been patient for months. I can't be patient anymore," I whine, moving a hand down to grasp his. I move his hand back to my clit, and he chuckles deeply as he resumes his ministrations.

I moan as he begins to rub faster, my back arching upwards involuntarily. His mouth finds my neck, kissing and sucking along the outside with care. He finally reaches his desired spot, nibbling on it lightly before sucking roughly on it and leaving his mark.

He moves his hand from my clit, and I almost begin to complain before something else replaces it. His smoke is now curling around it, taking over his work as he moves two fingers towards my entrance.

"Fuck, Syl-" I am cut off by him thrusting his fingers into me, a yelp of pleasure leaving my lips. He rubs against my walls aggressively, exploring my insides while his Evol rubs circles around my clit. He licks the spot he has been sucking, moving his mouth further down my neck and towards my breasts.

He suddenly stops, the complete lack of stimulation leaving me almost empty. "Sylus!" I whine, looking up at him with a pout on my face.

"I want this off," he mutters, tugging at the material of my dress. I stop him, staring him down defiantly. He raises an eyebrow at me, the question asking itself. "What could you possibly want?"

"Take yours off, too," I whine, and he shakes his head in disbelief. Without warning, my dress is lifted in the air by his Evol, the clothing falling onto the floor and leaving me completely bare in front of him.

I begin to argue, but he does the same for his shirt, leaving his sculpted upper half bare in front of me in all its glory. I can't help but run my hands along his body, and he groans at the feeling of my cold hands against his warm skin.

He pulls over a chair, knocking the notebook and measuring tape onto the ground as he goes to sit down. He beckons me over, and when I do not move fast enough, he wraps his Evol around me and pulls me over there himself.

I'm now sitting on his lap, my back against his naked torso. We are facing the floor-length mirror, my body on full display as I rest on top of him. He kisses the inside of my neck, his hands moving up to massage my breasts.

I moan, my head leaning back against him as I writhe in pleasure. I feel his Evol wrap around my head, tilting it back down until I am looking at myself in the mirror.

"No, I want you to watch. I want you to watch as I take what's mine," he purrs, his other hand moving down to resume its work in my pussy. He thrusts his fingers into me, his other hand tweaking my nipple between his fingers.

I let out a yelp of pleasure, fighting the urge to throw my head back again. Instead, I look at myself in the mirror, watching as his fingers pump in and out of my leaking cunt. It's orgasmic, the way he completely ruins me.

I look up to find that he is watching me in the mirror, his eyes now locking with mine as he fucks me with his fingers. I feel my stomach tighten, already on the verge of an orgasm.

While maintaining eye contact, I run my hand down towards his cock, palming him through his jeans. He lets out a groan, a dangerous look now shining in his eyes.

"Don't start what you can't finish, sweetie," he groans, his hand gripping my breast tighter. I continue rubbing against him through his jeans, his erection fighting against the tight zipper.

I feel a strong sensation of pleasure and look down to see that he has started rubbing against my clit as well, the Evol now taking over the working of my breasts.

I moan again, finally reaching my orgasm as I fall apart beneath his fingers. He lets my head fall back as I pant, my body shaking as he continues thrusting his fingers in and out of me.

When I finally come down from my high, he takes his fingers out of me, bringing them up to his lips and licking them hungrily. I stand up, my hands moving to his jeans as I fight to get them off. He helps me take them off, pulling down his boxers and letting his erection spring up towards me.

I kneel, my hands rubbing along the sides of his shaft sensually. "Do you know how you made me feel when you kneeled in front of me earlier? Do you know how close I was to taking you right there?" He asks, tilting my head up with his hand so that I am looking directly into his eyes.

I don't hesitate, maintaining eye contact with him as I take the tip of his cock in my mouth. He groans, running a hand through my hair and grabbing it roughly. I inch slowly down his shaft, making him suffer like how he made me suffer earlier.

"Fuck, you're such a brat," he groans, using his grip on my hair to push himself further into my mouth. I take him in eagerly, my tongue swirling around him as he moves in and out of my mouth. He curses under his breath, and I feel his cock twitch inside me.

I moan, the vibration against his cock sending him reeling. He pulls out of my mouth, panting. I begin to protest, but he puts a hand over my mouth. "You're getting me too close. There's more I want to do to you," he breathes, practically picking me up off the ground and leading me over to the chair.

He sits down, his cock standing at attention as he keeps me raised above him. "Are you ready?" He asks, his voice dripping in need. I nod, practically begging, and he lines himself up with my entrance.

"Hold on," he says, and I grip his shoulders tightly as he pushes himself into me. Something close to a scream escapes my throat, his entire length sheathed into me in one hard push. "You okay?" He asks, pausing to make sure I am not in pain.

"More. Please," I manage to whimper out. This is all the permission he needs, thrusting in and out of me at inhumane speeds as he groans into my neck.

He begins kissing my skin again, this time more sloppy as he licks up and down the column of my neck. A jolt of pleasure shoots through me, his cock hitting the deepest point of my pussy over and over again.

I bite into his neck, my hands still gripping tightly onto his shoulders as he lifts me up and down on his cock. He groans, his dick twitching inside of me eagerly.

"They should be just inside here," I hear Kieran's voice say from behind the door, his footsteps approaching closer.

"Shit," Sylus mutters, practically leaping up from the chair we are sitting on. Like lightning, he pulls us into one of the dressing rooms, his Evol grabbing our pile of clothes and bringing it in with us.

The door opens as soon as we are inside, barely seconds after we had made it to safety.

"Mr. Sylus? The tailor his here to see you," Kieran announces, before leaving the room. We sit in silence for a moment, before the tailor clears his throat.

"Sir?" He asks the empty room, "Trying something on?"

"Yes, just trying out one of the vests from the Fall Collection," Sylus says, his voice surprisingly even. It's then that his Evol lifts me into the air, his dick finding its way back to the entrance of my pussy.

"Syl-" I begin, but he covers my mouth with his hand as he thrusts back inside of me. I whimper, his hand muffling the sound as he continues to thrust in and out of me.

"Well, sir, I am here to take your measurements whenever you are done," the man says, oblivious to what his happening inside of his changing room.

"We have already taken care of that for you. Now, please leave us be," Sylus tells the man authoritatively, his finger moving to my clit as he continues to utterly destroy me. It takes everything in my power not to scream into his hand out of sheer pleasure.

"You've taken your own measurements?" The man asks, bewildered. "I must insist you let me do them. That way we can assure they are as accurate as can-"

"I assure you, they are accurate. Right, sweetie?" He asks me, uncovering my mouth as he continues to pound into me. I look at him with wide eyes, but he just raises an eyebrow, prompting me to answer the man.

"Y-yes. Everything i-is...great," I tell him, in the most even tone I can manage. Sylus has not stopped, his Evol dancing around my body and leaving goosebumps along my skin.

"You hear that? We're doing great. Now, wait for us downstairs, and don't bother us again."

The man apologizes before shuffling out, the door closing behind him. Sylus uncovers my mouth, only pounding harder into me. "Sylus! What if he- fuck- had h-heard us?"

Sylus just looks down at me, pressing down on my stomach to compress my walls even further. "Would you have liked that? If he had found me fucking you like this?" he asks, his cock twitching as if close to release.

"Fuck, Sylus," I moan, my own orgasm nearing closer. The many sensations- his finger on my clit, his dick pounding into me, his Evol around my tits- it's too much to bear.

"Please- Please, let me finish inside you," he groans, sweat dripping down his toned chest as he continues fucking me. He looks at me expectantly, and I just nod in response. He growls, his orgasm finally reaching the edge.

Mine arrives first, my legs shaking as my pussy pulsates around him. My nails scrape along his back, leaving long claw marks along his toned muscles. This sensation drags out his orgasm, his hot strands shooting into me and coating the walls he had spent so long destroying.

He continues moving as we both ride out our orgasms, his lips meeting mine and gently swirling his tongue in my mouth. When I finally stop writhing beneath him, he stops his movement, keeping his cock inside me.

He stops kissing me, choosing instead to look down at me fondly. He runs his thumb along my lips, letting it drag along my bottom lip slowly. I'm panting, my hair sticking to my forehead as I heave out a breath.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, wiping away a tear that had run down my face from pure pleasure. "Why don't we give them our measurements over the phone? I think we should head back to my place and relax for the rest of the day."

I just nod, pulling him in for a kiss that makes the butterflies in my stomach resume their fluttering. He sighs into my mouth, kissing me back softly and pulling me closer to his warm body.

✧༺♛༻✧༺♛༻✧༺♛

Thanks for reading! As always, my asks are open (and anonymous) if anyone would like to request anything :)

-Robyn <3

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[deepdeanvsweston]

Detective gang being ill headcannons idk what to call them

Daisy

- we've already seen what she's like ill in DITS

- Hazel thinks she doesn't realise she's ill, just keeps going until she collapses, or someone forces her into bed

- but the truth is that Daisy feels the need to keep up appearances, and also if she faints it feels drastic enough for her to be allowed to be ill

- after DSS, she succumbs to colds a lot quicker than she used to, the chill of the river never quite left her bones

- usually able to sleep anywhere but when she's ill has incredibly specific preferences or else she won't rest at all

- the window has to be exactly a quarter open, with three blankets of exact same size and fabric, with 2 pillows and a cushion from the sofa to put her head on

- often ill for a longer period than usual, simply because she gets antsy quickly, declares she's better, tries to get up, and promptly makes herself sicker than before

Hazel

- it's actually Hazel who genuinely doesn't realise she's ill

- she'll have a 39 degree temperature and be like 'its just stress!!!'

- Daisy used to get annoyed when Hazel was ill because it meant they couldn't Do Things together, so Hazel sort of learnt to keep it in the down low that she was feeling rough

- they've since talked this issue out and Daisy is now apologetic and attentive

- a little too attentive now, Hazel thinks,

("And then of course the door *atchoo* would be open, not closed *atchoo*- Daisy, where are you going?"

"You've sneezed twice in a row, Watson, I'm getting the thermometer"

- it's nice to have an attentive Daisy rather than a selfish Daisy though, especially when she yells at everyone to keep the noise down because "HAZEL is sick"

- Hazel usually can't stand plain food (hyposensitive with food autistic) but when she's ill, she'll live off plain toast for the next 3-4 days

- Hazel knows she's feeling better because there will be a 'click' moment where plain toast is instantly revolting to her again

- the ONLY time Hazel enjoys the cold English weather is when she's running a fever

George

- tries not to show he's ill for appearance's sake like Daisy, but not silly enough to keep going like she would if he knows he's a risk to others

- you can tell George is ill though because he will fall asleep. Everywhere

- was sick during a case at Weston once, and fell asleep interviewing a suspect

("they had an incredibly monotonous voice Alex, now please don't bring it up again!")

- likes being sung to when he's ill

- takes all of his father's advice for not getting sick daily (wash your hands properly, cover mouth when you cough and sneeze etc.)

- so George isn't often ill but when he is, he gets it bad

- ofc noone likes being ill, but George does enjoy being in the san, it's far cleaner than the dorms, and there's a stillness in the air that's very comforting

- George gets incredibly bothered by his hair when he's ill so pins it back with his mother's kirby grips

Alex

- everyone gets a little worried when Alex gets sick, especially in winter because he has a history of being in and out of hospital as a child

- think scarlet fever, polio, croup

- he's usually fine though, it's likely just the common cold

- this does not stop George stealing his father's stethoscope to listen to Alex's lungs and seeing if anything's amiss

- (Alex thinks he does this just to show off the latest medical term he's learnt)

- doesn't like being ill because he gets sent to the san, which while being nice and having a friendly nurse, is incredibly lonely

- he's used to hearing the other boys sleeping, or while at home his family hosting a party, and it's too quiet in the san

- acts like a woodlouse when he's sick, as in will curl up into a small ball

- Alex being sick is the only time George will lose a card game

- ("Alex, you marvel, you've won again!"

"Don't patronise me George, I know you're letting me win...")

[gudvina]

Hayffie prompt - married in secret during the whole hunger games trilogy

The things I do to keep you near.

Ship: Effie Trinket/Haymitch Abernathy

Fandom: Hunger Games

Chapter 1: Wedding Bells.

Picks up after Sour Comments but both can be read as standalones!

can be read on AO3! <3

71st Hunger Games, reaping season.

District Twelve’s sweltering heat was heavy on Effie Trinket’s skin as she made her way to the Victors’ Village, taking in the blooming fields around it. Despite the heavy coat of ashes by the city the earth there seemed cleaner, with wildflowers and ivies taking over the village’s walls, making it look almost picturesque. It didn’t resemble any of the gardens she’d seen in the Capitol, even the ones meant to replicate perfect wilderness couldn’t quite catch the restlessness of that land.

She crossed the iron gates, trying to ignore the weight she felt in her chest. Another reaping. Another set of children sent to be slaughtered. Every year it was harder and harder to stomach, and the option of leaving it all behind her was always itching in the back of her mind. But she couldn’t.

And not only because of the usual mantra “once in the Games, always in the Games”. When she arrived at the door that seemed to await her every year she took a moment to sport her brightest smile, in case anyone was watching, and knocked. Chin up!

She heard a thud and a bit of rustling behind the door, which soon opened to reveal the one reason she couldn’t leave.

“Didn’t hear the hovercraft” he said, barely awake. His hair was dishevelled, there was a huge stain on his shirt that she suspected- and smelled- to be vomit, and the hand that leaned on the door frame held a bottle of some sort of spirit. A rush of tenderness swept through her and her smile sweetened. She was ridiculous, she knew, but she couldn’t help feeling oh, so happy just at the sight of him.

“Well, that’s not the polite way to greet guests, Haymitch! Come on, let’s get you ready, we have a big, big day ahead of us” she quipped, making her way in, successfully ignoring the unpleasant smell of the house.

She set down her bags on the floor, not trusting the sofa, and turned to him with a wrinkle of her nose. “Now, how about you freshen up? We don’t have the whole day, according to my schedule in four hours the stage will be ready!”

Haymitch was visibly embarrassed by the state of the house, or maybe his state, but he just grumbled something under his breath and went upstairs. He was aware that Effie would attempt to clean around, just like she had done all those years before, but it didn’t make it easier. At best, he used to be irritated by her misplacing his things, at worst, he used to hate that a Capitol would get to see his worst.

But there was never pity in her eyes, and slowly they’d learned to work around each other.

When he was finally presentable he went back downstairs, finding his house looking a lot less like a dumpster and a lot more like a house. He found a shapely shimmery piece of fabric on his armchair and followed the smell of coffee that led him to the kitchen.

She was leaning on the counter, her eyes on the brewer. “So, sweetheart, you found us someone other than Chip and Chop?”

“Name-calling is incredibly rude, Haymitch! And no, for your information Tulsia and Tallia are still our stylists. Seneca was not willing to drop them” she answered, trying to sound unaffected by the facts. She didn’t like their stylists any more than he did, but it would not do to dwell too much on it, especially since they were much better than the ones before. She had raged after the stunt of putting naked children on blast, no matter how hiding coal could be.

“Uh, what is it, boyfriend ain’t budging?” he sneered, knowing she didn’t like to be pressed about her relationship with the young Game Maker. They’d had a relationship in the early years of her escorting career, the power couple for every little Capitol girl who dreamed of marrying a man whose destiny was killing children for fun. Pictures of them in high school were flying around, and constant rumours of an upcoming marriage made waves through Panem’s scene.

All of that stopped when they broke it off, announcing to the press that they were still friends, but their lives were taking different directions and they still supported one another. If he hadn’t fucked her throughout the entire relationship, maybe Haymitch would have been shocked by the news as well.

She’d never told him what truly happened between them, though. Not even a hint. Crane still made her puppy eyes from across the room, that was enough to know that the split wasn’t mutual, but otherwise, he had no idea of what happened, nor did she offer any explanation. And he didn’t know if he wanted her to.

“He said he couldn’t find any interesting stylist this year, but he’ll press for the next”. She sighed, ignoring him to pour two cups of their coffee.

“Uhm, maybe you’re still salty he didn’t sail the wedding boat with you”.

“Why, Haymitch, it appears you know about me more than I do! Pray, any other insight?”

“Well, if you insist, princess, I happen to know exactly what might cheer you up” he smirked, letting his hand grab the soft flesh of her ass, pressing her against the counter. The soft moan she let out should have been illegal.

“Haymitch, behave, please” she whispered, but her voice was not convinced, and she suspected he could tell as well.

“Think you like it when I misbehave, sweetheart” he whispered, letting his hands wander over her body, relishing in the fact that she was wearing a dress that was airy enough to let him touch her bare skin under it. Her moans and the way she gripped the counter spurred him on, and he soon had his hands in between her legs, pressing soft circles in the sensitive flesh of her core.

She let out a soft ‘oof’ sound when he stopped his ministration, backing away a little to unbuckle his belt and free his shaft. Effie turned towards him, coffee forgotten, and got down on her knees, making quick work of taking him in her mouth, sucking him just the way he liked it.

He usually didn’t fuck her so early into the Game, but the previous year she had disappeared for half of the edition, and he truly wanted, no, needed to feel her around him.

Before he could lose it he gripped her jaw and pulled out, bringing her to her feet again. He kissed her hard, an angry battle of tongues and teeth, before pulling her legs up around his waist and pressing her onto the kitchen, sheathing himself inside her. She moaned greedily and held him tight, kissing the crook of his neck as his thrust picked up speed. She delighted in their reunion.

He couldn’t think of anything else but the softness of her against his hardness, and when her walls tightened he rode her orgasm, chasing his own. It didn’t take long. Her whimpers drove him wild and soon he was spilling inside her. He left soft kisses on the flushed skin of her collarbone, trying very hard to avoid leaving marks on her skin.

“And now you have to take another shower, I don’t know why I bother!” she started with her little sing-song tone, and he smirked, detecting the strain in her voice. Effie looked at him, his air was all over the place again. She didn’t dare move too much or touch him too softly, especially now that he’d already found his release.

After last year’s mishap, his behaviour had changed slightly. For years they’d shared mad, violent nights, taking each other any time they needed some solace from their realities, but gradually the violence had waned down a little to leave place for a connection she couldn’t quite name. She didn’t even dare admit it to herself, what he was for her. What she felt for him.

Haymitch didn’t move, deciding to keep playing with the soft skin of her chest, his stubble tickling her a little as she relaxed against him. Her eyes took in the kitchen, the golden summer light seeping through the window exposing the freckles of dust in the air. Time seemed to have stopped and she relished in that stillness.

Suddenly she felt him start to grab again at her skin, and despite his purpose in doing so all that did was bring her back to reality. “Haymitch, we need to leave in a few hours and, tell you that, I don’t want to be late”.

“When do you ever?” he groaned, pulling out of her as she took a handkerchief from the counter to clean herself up.

“Never, we need to decide what you’ll wear for today and make sure everything is ready before the Peacekeepers come to get us,” she said, and then continued for another while as she fretted about what to do and about what was the state of the clothes she’d bought him the previous year.

It was interesting to see her transform from Effie, the girl who’d just blessed his kitchen and ears with sounds that would be shameful even in a brothel, into Effie Trinket, the escort who needed to be on top of everything. He felt a lot for Effie. He didn’t get to see her much in the light of day, and missed her until her return, when the night brought down her wigs and masks.

In that moment Effie Trinket had taken over, and there was nothing he could do but get himself a drink and follow her lead.

***

Haymitch wasn’t drunk enough to deal with Tulsia and Tallia’s mindless chatter, so he got up and took a flask of alcohol with him. The two did nothing but talk about the same three subjects in rotation, their voices overlapping because supposedly “twins have a special connection” and fuss over what might happen at whatever event. The children had retired for the night, a boy and a girl of twelve. This year, much more than the year before, it was hopeless. At the very least the girl was cute enough that some sponsors might just take pity on her, but he wasn’t even sure they’d survive the bloodbath.

He moved through the train’s carts, before finally coming to the one he was directed to. He entered and knocked on the door of the compartment he knew she was in, waiting for her to open. The soft padding of bare feet against the carpet could be heard behind the wood panel and then she appeared before him; no wigs, no makeup, just her in a nightgown.

“Haymitch, it’s incredibly late and I’m about to settle for bed. What is it?” she whispered, looking behind him in case there were waiters around. But the train had stopped for maintenance in District 7, and they were all slaving after the twins’ whims.

It took a while for him to answer, transfixed by the golden tresses crowning her visage. He knew he was about to do something stupid, but when she looked like herself being stupid didn’t sound so bad.

“I want to take a walk, come with me and bring matches” he whispered, before disappearing into another compartment where he stole a loaf of bread. Maybe last year’s absence had gotten under his skin more than he cared to let on. A part of him was screaming that it didn’t matter, that she was free to do what she wanted, and this wouldn’t change anything. But his madness for her won over any common sense.

Maybe twelve’s traditions had some meaning. Maybe it would influence something. He was mad. And drunk.

He stepped outside the train, putting on his best show by slurring to Peacekeepers that he wanted to take a walk, disappearing right outside the stations where an expanse of wood met his tired eyes. Good.

He didn’t dare step too far, just enough to be hidden by the guards, and sat down on the ground.

A bat of an eyelash and a worried mention of appearances was enough for Effie to convince the guards to let her search for him on her own. What was wrong with her, she wondered. Why did she always follow him around? But she couldn’t help it, she was curious and even though the humidity made her gown cling to her skin she stepped outside, searching for him.

Her eyes surprisingly adapted to the darkness, and soon she found him sitting on the ground, holding something between his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Give me the matches”

Effie hesitated, but she couldn’t detect his expression, so she gave him the matches. A few minutes later he’d lit up a small fire, and her eyes took a minute to adjust to the light. When she took a better look at him his expression was unreadable, but his eyes were set on something, and now she saw that what he was holding was a small loaf of bread that he was trying to toast on the fire without burning himself.

She was stunned into silence, looking as he turned it around.

Then he held it to her.

“Can you toast it a little better for me?” he asked, slightly amused by the confusion on her face.

Her brow furrowed, but she took it and did as he asked, turning the loaf to make sure it wouldn’t toast too much. She didn’t understand, the train had a toaster that got the job done quite well; there was no need to scamper about in the cold of the night. And yet she couldn’t stop herself, concentrating her energies on the task at hand. Of his drunken acts up, this was by far the least harmless. After all, he’d been almost polite.

When she was satisfied with the golden crust she returned him the bread, enjoying the warmth of the fire, when he surprised her once more. He took the loaf and broke it into two pieces, setting his half on his lap before placing the other half in her hands with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Cheers!” he smirked and took a bite, his eyes fixed on her.

“I’m sorry?”.

“Eat the bread and shut up, Princess”.

“But… did you put something in the bread?”

“What, you wanted butter?”

“I- no, I… is this a joke?”

“What?” he asked, worry creeping on him. Did she know? He didn’t think Escorts required knowledge of the districts they’d take on, but still, if she knew…

“You force me, a lady, outside in the middle of the night to toast some bread when there are perfectly good toasters inside the train. It sounds like a joke, doesn’t it?”

Relief. She didn’t know.

“It tastes better like this, this is why I left you the other half, to be proven right. Now eat the damn thing and shut up” he shrugged and took another bite of the delicious bread. Avoiding danger had never felt so rewarding.

She looked at him, confusion still taking over her features, but did as he asked. They both ate in silence, listening to the sounds of the night, the cackling of the fire, and the station workers doing their job.

When they were done Haymitch got up, moved closer to her, still sitting on the ground, and grabbed her waist as he let their lips meet in a chaste kiss, where he could still taste the bread. He interrupted it before any of them could turn it into something more.

“Let me put out the fire and we’ll be out of here”.

It wasn’t a fancy thing, and she didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he hoped it would do the trick. Good luck on leaving him, now that she was his wife.

They returned to the train station with much fanfare from her and incoherent slurring from him, the usual show. When inside, he waited a few minutes to join her in her compartment, curling around her small frame and holding her close. If he was lucky he might be rewarded for his troubles in the morning, but for the night he was content with just holding her, lulled to sleep by her soft breath and the faint smell of peaches on her skin.