#had to admit it but at least his bathtub and toilet are clean!

[morgberrystreet]

So I had my cousin and her friend over today to deep clean my house (they have a cleaning business)

But didn’t tell my dad since he freaks out about other people touching his stuff.

He just walked in the door from work and within half a minute said “okay who was here? This isn’t how you clean”

Screamingg🤣🤣

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 6•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Everyone comes clean.

About this: some explicit talk about consent and non-consent.

-

Johnny insists that it will be easier for the three of you to talk in the ruined bathroom, which is how you end up in the bathtub. A part of you thinks that Johnny should be the one in the tub (he’s the one limping, after all), but he had taken the broom from your hands and insisted on sweeping up the remains of the ceiling tiles himself. 

“Don’t need two good legs to work a broom, hen. Be reasonable,” he’d said with a roll of his eyes. 

Simon keeps busy at the other end of the bathroom sopping up the standing water that threatens the bedroom carpet. With nothing to do and no one who would accept your help, you had minimal options: sit on the closed lid of the toilet or curl up in the empty tub. 

At least in the tub you could draw the curtain shut and retain a little dignity. 

“The bathroom needs major reconstruction,” Simon says, the close quarters and tiled walls making his voice sound as if it is coming from every direction. Not that you mind, with a voice like his. You take in this news while examining the bottles of soap and shampoo nestled in the nook of the wall, reaching out quietly to take one and pop the cap open. God, it smelled like Simon did after his post-run showers, woodsy and clean. You inhale deeply. “So we’re down to one bathroom for the next few weeks.” 

Your belly swoops with relief: they weren’t kicking you out. You peek out of the shower curtain, soap held out of view, and maybe it is partly that outlandish relief that has you saying: “That’s not so bad.” 

Simon stares, kneeling on the tiles, wet towels all around him. “It’s an invasion of your space and privacy.” 

“Yeah, who knows the sort of girly things you keep hidden in there,” Johnny says. 

Simon shoots him a dry, unamused look. 

“I don’t mind sharing,” you admit (thank God you’d hidden the only real incriminating item before Johnny had used your bathroom). “My last roommate and I had to share while we lived together. We just locked the door and tried to respect each other’s time. I’m sure the three of us can make it work.” 

“We’ll have to,” Simon says, sounding about as thrilled of the prospect as a man might be of the electric chair or other unwilling euthanasia. He turns his dark, all-seeing eyes on you. “What is it that you needed to talk to us about?” 

You pull the curtain shut abruptly. With care, you sneak the soap back into its former position and hope that Simon won’t notice it’s been moved. Your hand shakes while you do. You’re horrified to feel tears of embarrassment and shame filling your eyes, grateful for the cover of the shower curtain as you palm the tears away before they can fall. Even if they weren’t planning to kick you out, it made you feel no less shameful about what you had done on the car ride home.

“I just feel terrible about last night. What I did to you, Johnny—and you, Simon—it, it was trashy to say the least. I mean, it was predatorial—” 

The soft rasp of the broom’s filaments against the floor stops. 

“Preda—? Alright, I’m coming in there.” Johnny draws the curtain back, frowning down at you. You don’t want to imagine the sight you make: curled up in his bathtub, eyes red from rubbing them raw. He turns himself sideways and sits on the ledge, wincing as he does so. Ever attuned to Johnny’s needs, Simon reaches out and helps him adjust his leg into a more neutral position. “What’s all this? Yer no predator.” 

“You tried to stop me.” Your voice is thick, cracking at the edges. 

“I didn’t say no, not in so many words—” 

“You didn’t say yes either, Johnny,” you remind him. “If a man had done to me what I did to you last night, you’d break his teeth in.” 

Johnny’s face twists into a grim expression. “Aye. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it wasn’t right what you did—but I get a say in it too, don’t I? I get to decide what happened to me, and I don’t feel like I was taken advantage of. Jesus, I could have stopped you if I hadn’t wanted it so bad.” 

“I think you’re—” you pause, blinking as Johnny’s words make it through the fog of your own self pity. Your eyes flicker to Simon, unsure if you had heard correctly. Simon gives nothing away, his eyes reminding you of cool dark rooms, if only you could find a lightswitch to illuminate them. “Johnny, did you just say—” 

“Is it easier if I shut the curtain again?” 

“Might be.” 

“Alright.” Simon helps him stand and Johnny tugs the curtain shut again. “Let me preface this by saying that you can say no to the likes of us, fer any reason, explained or otherwise, and there won’t be any consequences! But since the day you moved in, we’ve felt a chemistry with you that we haven’t felt with many people before, and we wanted to know if you felt the same way.” 

Chemistry. That was one way to put it. Overwhelming attraction and unshakeable fondness was another. While you knew that the three of you got along well enough (and more than once Johnny had referred to you all as friends), it loosened some tight, anxious muscle in your chest to know that they felt the connection too. It wasn’t just wishful thinking on your part; there was chemistry.

“What sort of chemistry?” you ask, adjusting yourself into a more comfortable position.

“There’s more than one?” Simon mutters. 

“I mean, there’s chemistry in a friendly way or a more romantic way—” 

“A sexual way,” Johnny suggests. You jolt and accidentally bang your knuckles against the porcelain of the tub. Hissing, you cradle them against your chest, mulling over his words.

Your mouth feels almost too dry to speak. 

“Right. Well—yes, I feel…that.” In the back of your brain, a tiny fire burns, fueled by disappointment. You try to smother its flames before it grows out of control and threatens to burn up your higher reasoning. Not every relationship needed to be centered around romance; this was the twenty-first century. You were perfectly within your rights—some would consider it smart, even—to have physical relationships without the complication of emotional aspects.

You’ll keep working on convincing yourself. In the meantime: “So you’re saying you want to have sex.” 

“I’m open to taking things slow and seeing where they lead,” says Johnny.

Dimly you remember something: some night spent curled up on the couch, your head lighter than air, listening to Johnny and Simon talk beside you. Something about their conversation reminded you of this moment, but the more you tried to remember, the more it slipped through your fingers like sand. 

“All of us?” you ask, noticing Simon’s pointed silence. 

There is shifting on the other side of the curtain. You see shadows moving through the thin plastic and fabric, like the two of them are trying to have a silent conversation with only hand gestures. It does nothing for your nerves. At length, Simon says: “Not me. Just you and Johnny.”

Your heart does a strange dip, like a bird changing course and soaring toward the ground. You feel strangely, stupidly hurt by this, though you couldn’t put into words why, and you wouldn’t want to even if he asked. It was within his rights to say no. Hadn’t you just learned that lesson?

“Are you sure you’d be okay with that?” you ask. Simon had never come off as a jealous sort of type (and you imagine that a jealous type wouldn’t last long with Johnny anyway, not with the way the other man liked to flirt), but everyone had a limit. You weren’t sure that if the situations were reversed you could be so affable. 

“Someone needs to keep a clear head,” he says. “I’ll be the designated driver.” 

Maybe he’s right. If you truly plan to sleep with Johnny, maybe it will be best to have someone in the apartment still as detached as possible. 

“Thanks, I guess,” you say, trying to force a little humor into your voice. “I think I proved last night that I don't make the best decisions under the influence.” 

“You did make the best decision,” he says solemnly. “You called me.” 

Johnny’s hand appears from around the edge of the shower curtain. Grinning, you stretch out to touch his fingers with your own and lace them together. It’s a little awkward, but most new things are. His hand is warm and gentle, and you could get used to it. 

“We’ll take it slow, yes?” 

“Alright.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Lunch?” 

“Definitely on the same page there.” 

“Get out of my tub then.”

-

“Hey. Stay back.” 

Feeling a little like a student asked to stay behind after class, you watch with envy as Johnny slips into the living room to call for takeout, leaving you alone with Simon. You don’t get to spend a lot of alone time with Simon, and that time is usually spent in companionable silence as he reads. Nerves bubble in your belly, wondering what else he could have to talk to you about that he wouldn’t want to say in front of his husband.

“What’s up?” you ask, aiming for nonchalant. 

“I’ve got a rule,” he says. “One for you.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Don’t fall in love with Soap.” You blink up at him. Of all the things you could have imagined him saying, this hadn’t been on the list—though perhaps it should have been right there at the top. “I know how easy he is to love. But I also know that this is going to end at some point, one way or another. Let's not let it end up a mess. That’s my advice. As the driver.”

“Just friends,” you clarify around the knot in your throat. “Believe it or not, I was thinking the same thing. This is all just for fun, right?”

Simon stares at you hard, like he is trying to see through you to the door behind you. You hope your face is arranged into something neutrally appropriate but know that if it isn’t, it’s already too late. 

“Right,” he says at length.

-

The night ends softly, with something mindless and easy on television. Simon sits on the floor with his back against the base of the couch, head against Johnny’s knees. Johnny lays outstretched across the couch on his side, one hand reaching down to rub at his aching thigh now and again. All while you sit curled up in the armchair, watching the television half as often as you watch the two of them. 

They’re beautiful. There’s something about the way they contrast with each other, the darkness and the light, which you find aesthetically pleasing. Sometimes Johnny slips his fingers into Simon’s hair and scratches softly at his scalp, and you get to watch the relaxed, blissed-out expression creep over Simon’s face at the stimulation. 

The domesticity of it does something to you. Deep in your chest—in between your legs. It’s time for you to call it a night; there’s a toy in your room with your name on it (not literally). Joints creaking from disuse as you stand, both their heads swivel to look up at you, making your heart squeeze fondly. 

“I think I’m tapping out for the night,” you admit. 

Simon wishes you a goodnight. 

Johnny says: “Where’s my goodnight kiss?” 

You feel zapped, suddenly wide awake. “You…want one?” 

Johnny nods. He tries to sit up but can’t find the leverage, face twisting in pain. 

“No,” you tell him, “You stay there, I’ll come to you.” 

Walking around the coffee table, you come to kneel beside Simon at Johnny’s head. Your chest feels tight, blood thrumming with nerves. You can’t help but glance toward Simon who hasn’t changed positions except to angle his body towards you both a fraction more, his eyes dark and shadowed. 

“Alright, hen?” Johnny asks. 

“Yeah,” you murmur. 

He reaches out to cup your cheek, his palm warm, thumb stroking along the length of your cheekbone. Steeling your nerves, you lean down and press your mouth against his. His lips are soft, warm as you give him the simplest, chastest kiss. He keeps you there, searching for more, tilting your head with his hand until the angle serves him best, parting his lips until you can taste the lemon from the tea Simon had shared with you both earlier that night.

His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and your thighs shake, weak in the knees from holding yourself up. You grip a fistful of the couch cushion beside his head and meet his tongue with your own, a soft little dance, familiar steps but a new partner. He exhales, the breath fanning across your cheek, and something about that makes the ache between your legs so much worse. 

You break away. Your fingers find his hair, soft dark strands that slip through your fingers like silk. You whisper: “Johnny.” 

“Just a little more, please,” Johnny begs, and you can’t say no when you want it so bad.

You meet him open mouthed, shifting on your knees to make yourself more comfortable—and you brush against Simon seated beside you. It has you pulling back, sucking in a breath. You can’t help but look at him with wide, guilty eyes, only to find him watching you with quiet, earnest intensity. His mouth curls at the edges into the ghost of a smile, though why he would be smiling, you couldn’t say. 

Meanwhile, Johnny sighs, brushing his thumb against your lower lip.

“Chemistry,” he says, mouth red and kiss-swollen. 

You silently agree. 

[cerisesakurainspring]

OIKAWA x READER

~~He is someone who calls you pet names~~

"Tooru, you repulsive little male mynx!!"

The chocolatey-eyed lad came running towards the bathroom where you were screaming his name. Worry evident in his alluring features.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"You are what's wrong! I told you to put the toilet seat down." Waking up on the wrong side of the bed didn't help with the small frustration bubbling inside of you. It was a very simple house rule, and your charming husband seemed to always 'forget' about it.

The pro volleyball player relaxed his shoulder, and a sheepish smile soon replaced his concerned one.

"Sorry, gordita-chan. I'll remember that for next time." He goes closer to you for a kiss on the cheek, but you don't let him; instead, you push him into the bathroom. "I don't want you to remember. I NEED you to actually do it."

Tooru turned around and pouted at you in an attempt to be charming.

"Nope. Not gonna work on me. Clean everything here this instant. Don't forget to scrub the bathtub, too." you ordered, and when it finally registered that he called you your least favourite nickname, you crunched your nose in disgust. "And you need to stop calling me gordita!"

"Noooo," he dragged on and proceeded to squeeze your cheeks, "How can I not bring attention to your cute chubby little cheeks?? You're like a conejita, oh my cute little bunny!" Tooru started sucking at your cheeks playfully. It began to hurt, so you had to bite his wrist to stop him.

"Ouch! Okay, okay. Then, how about mi changuita?"

"What does that mean?"

He waved his pointy finger in the air with a proud expression, "It means 'my beautiful wife!"

His mischievous smile did not go unnoticed, and you lightly kicked his shin, "Liar! It's probably another stupid sweet-nothings. I don't want it."

Tooru did not want to tell you it really meant little monkey. It reminded him of how you would desperately clung onto him like a monkey whenever he leaves for his away-games, and he'll keep calling you that until you find out the true meaning. And when you do, he'll just come up with another cute pet name for you.

"Why can't you just be like a normal husband and call me something like mi amor or mi vida?"

You notice his naughty smile ease into a sincere one, "Tu eres mi precioso tesoro, y siempre estare encantado por ti, mi cielo."

"Do I even want to know what that means?"

Tooru just looks at you lovingly and smiles his signature grin.

"You think you can get away with anything as long as you smile, huh?" You placed your hands on your waist, giving off a sassy look.

Tooru revelled in your beauty, and he couldn't help the sudden flurry of butterflies in his stomach. Though you two have been married for years now, you have never failed to tickle his heart.

"You're supposed to say you love me back. Do you not love me anymore?" The setter pouted.

You rolled your eyes at his question, "You didn't say te amo, so why would I?" You sighed in slight frustration for not understanding the Spanish sentence he uttered earlier on. "I let my love for you be the one to decide to marry you. I didn't consider how much you would drive me nuts."

There was a slight arch on Tooru's brow. "Do I really drive you crazy in every aspect of your life?"

"Very much so." You looked at him accusingly, hoping your stares reached the recesses of his soul.

Tooru leaned his body forward to meet your eyes. A slight smirk danced on his lips. A look that made you shiver in delight. Not that you would ever admit it out loud.

"Then, does that include our nightly sessions?" His voice showed a hint of tease, and you turned beet red at his suggestive question.

In shock and embarrassment, you ran out of the bathroom and closed the door, leaving your husband behind.

Laughter didn't fail to escape Tooru's mouth, and it reverberated through the door.

"You're not leaving until you clean the whole bathroom!!" You screamed in shyness and frustration.

Smile slowly eased unto your lips as you held your hand on your chest, where your heart was beating too fast.

"I'm glad I married you, mi amor." You whispered to yourself.

~~~~~

Translation:

Tu eres mi precioso tesoro y siempre estare encantado por ti, mi cielo. / You are my precious treasure, and I will always be enchanted by you, my little heaven.

This is part of a one-shot series and is on AO3 and Wattpad :)

[tealeafgrimm]

There For You

Remus Lupin x Reader

Words: 972

Summary: Remus is not good at asking for help. He doesn't want to be a burden. But after the full moon, he needs you. And there's not a single reason why you wouldn't help him.

You turn around and look at the grandfather clock in your living room. He should have been here by now, he never took this long to come back after the full moon. Nervously, you paced around the entryway of your house. Should you go out and see if he was badly hurt, should you ask someone to help you look for him? Your train of thought was interrupted when you heard branches and leaves moving at the edge of the nearby forest. And not a second later, you could see his face.

"Remus," you whispered, both frightened and relieved at the same time. He looked terrible. You couldn't remember the last time he had looked this bad.

His clothes, which he had worn the night before, were torn in several places and you could see the blood soaking the fabric. He was barely able to hold himself upright and walk. No wonder it had taken him so long to find his way home.

With quick steps you ran towards him and no sooner had you put his arm around your shoulder than he dropped his weight on you. Although it was only a few meters, it took you ages to get Remus into the house.

"I've already prepared the bath, okay?" you whispered as you walked down the small hallway towards the bathroom. Remus didn't answer you, too tired and exhausted to say anything back.

"Here, sit down. I'll help you take off your clothes." Carefully you helped Remus sit down on the lid of the toilet, a hiss escaping him, obviously the slightest movement hurt him. As carefully as you could, trying to cause the least contact with his wounds, you helped him remove his clothes.

It felt like it took hours, but after a while Remus sank into the warm water of the bathtub.

When the warm water touched his body, he let out an agonized cry. You couldn't imagine how painful it must be. You could only guess how bad his wounds were, but now that he had nothing on, you could clearly see the damage he had sustained last night. It seemed as if he had scratched up almost his entire back and his chest was also adorned with dark welts.

"Do you think I can leave you alone for a moment?" you asked him softly, stroking his hair. A faint nod was the only response.

"I'll get you some potions for the pain and some healing and wound ointment, okay?" You didn't wait to see if he had heard you, but left the bathroom. As quickly as you could, you gathered the potion and ointment and returned to the bathroom.

The water Remus sat in was now a dirty light brown. His blood and the dirt of the night had discolored it. With a wave of your wand, you made the dirty water disappear and refilled it with new, clean water. You handed him the small vial of pain-relieving potion and began to clean his wounds with a washcloth.

When you had helped him out of the bath and into his boxers, you began dabbing the ointment and tincture onto his open wounds. Again and again Remus hissed, winced and tried to back away from your touch.

"That's it. We're done," you said after a few minutes. The first wounds were already beginning to close. In a few hours, the worst would already be over.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see something like this every month. Let alone take care of me," Remus spoke softly as you walked into your bedroom together.

"I tell you every time Remus. I don't help you because I have to, I help you because I want to. Because I love you."

With a sigh, he settled down on the bed. A little rest and a few hours of sleep would help him and when he would wake up he would be feeling better.

"You deserve so much better. I'm not worth it..."

"Stop saying things like that about yourself or I'll hex your tongue to the roof of your mouth. I LOVE you. Is that so hard to understand?"

"Sometimes," he admitted, but you could see the beginnings of a smile.

"How many times have you helped me? When I got hit by a stray jinx at school because someone didn't aim right? You were always the first to undo everything. Or who takes care of me when I'm on my period? You. You go and make me tea, bring me chocolate. Who takes care of me when I'm overwhelmed, when I cry, when I'm angry, frustrated, when I just need someone by my side? Remus, you're always there for me."

"I think it is. You don't ask for help any more than I do. You didn't choose your situation, any more than I do when I'm sad or angry. And I help you in your situation for the same reason you help me. Because we love each other."

Remus was ready to launch into a retort again, but you raised your hand and gave him a dirty look.

"I don't want to discuss this any further with you right now. You need rest."

Without paying any further attention to him, you grabbed his book from the nightstand and lay down next to him. Even though he never asked you to, you knew he liked it when you read to him after a night like the last.

You opened the marked page and began to read. Within minutes, you felt Remus' breathing relax and become more even.

There would never be a reason for you not to help him, even though he would argue with you again and again. But your answer would always be the same. If you really love one another, you are there them.

Werewolf or not.

[inviouswriting]

Simeon n//s//f//w// alphabet

Obvious it is a smut alphabet for the angel. I finally know how to answer them~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Playing on the pun here, but he is an absolute angel for aftercare. Post-coital however, he tends to his lover, peppering their face either in kisses staying connected a little longer. He massages anything that is sore, he can get rambunctious during sex and sometimes it is emotional with him/ intense. Anyone under him enjoys the snacks he brings and get extra cuddles under the blankets.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For himself, he likes his hands more. The obvious he enjoys touch. From you on them or to you with them. He likes to hold and caress. If you think all those head pets and face rubs don't get reciprocated you are mistaken.

On his lover, he loves their face most importantly their eyes. The whole we convey our emotions through them best. He loves that aspect best, to be able to sit in a room together and he can tell how they feel just from meeting gazes. Also loves seeing how their eyes dilate after an orgasm.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He is an angel... but one that cooks alot of sweet and healthy things. What this means is he's sweet inside and out. Good volume easy on the tongue and a little runny, but he's more embarrassed with you looking up at him with your tongue coated. Will 100% enjoy oral.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I like to think that his top is a one piece like everyone else does. But, with a special spot to it, in there is a hole for his cock. A big secret for himself that makes it an enjoyment if his lover finds out about it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I want to believe the experience he has is based more from his research in reading. He is a writer, writers accumulate knowledge of stuff even without ever doing it themselves. I want to think he thinks about it more than doing it at all. His partner if they're human will lead them down the road of pleasures.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sitting positions. They're intimate, lets him have complete access to your face for kisses, and depending on the way you are, it allows him to be deep. It can go sweet and romantic to hot and wild that way. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simeon is someone who likes to tease, he will lighten the mood if his partner is hesitant about it, he will reassure them. Laughing sex is probably one of the best things he's done with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hairless below. Prefers to be clean like that.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He makes any sexual encounter romantic and loving. He doesn't just lay down with anyone. He chooses someone as a permanent partner, and it shows when he is with his chosen lover. He's vocal, he compliments, words of affection, he loves with his eyes and smile.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Once he has had a taste, he does it more than he admits to. Specially after the first time he was with a love. He can't get over how they felt around him, and soon enough he has his hand squeezing himself and his other at his mouth biting down at the memory.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dressing up. He loves his partner in costumes, something sexy from stockings and lingerie. To suits and ties. He likes seeing them put something elaborate on only for him to pull off later. Simeon also has a food fetish.. he will gladly make his lover a human table and eat off of them.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bathroom or his bedroom. The few places where he is guaranteed privacy among others around Purgatory Hall. He can easily hang a sign on his door to not bother him when he writes, same can apply when he is with his lamb. He likes the bathroom more, for the mirrors and bathtub itself. Able to relax and lazily be intimate.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Touching his back. A light graze of nails across it, and he is shivering. Do it a few times and he is already wanting to pin you down and have his way.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Non-consensual, bathroom stuff, pain play. He would never hurt his lover. He worries he would hurt them at all. If it belongs in a toilet I don't see him doing it at all. (I also hate writing that stuff) pain play, he may allow bdsm to a point. But if you or him causes pain it is a flat out no. He rather cause pleasure.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving, having you at his mercy for hours just teasing you with his mouth. He loves receiving too. The underside is particularly sensitive. He actually gets shy if you manage to stare him in his eyes. Even covers his face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

A mix of both. He will be slow and sensual with romantic times, while fast and rough when you both are feeling it. He never views sex as a sinful thing or dirty to be shamed. He finds enjoyment with his chosen lover, but he is least likely to have multiple lovers.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Simeon loves quickies. Pulling his love aside for a fast romp where it might be the only time they see each other in the day. He looks forward to them, whether he has a hand clasped over their mouth to keep them from moaning with Lucifer in the next room. Or finding a remote spot where you two let out your sounds.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Simeon doesn't take a whole lot of risks that jeopardizes his roles. But he is certain in his love for you. Nothing you do with him is seen as a sin in his eyes, he will burn his wings and join you as a human before he gives up now. Or patiently wait the day you join him in the celestial realm. Risks in sexual terms, he won't do anything that causes permanent damages, risks yours or his life.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's an angel, he has stamina to burn, also with all those dance battles pretty sure he has alot of energy. He can go rounds before he tires, you on the other hand, you might challenge yourself to wear the angel down.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He loves them. Things that prolong both of your pleasure, he likes using vibrators on you, and enjoys being pegged. A good trade for all the pleasure he gives you, seeing him come undone with a nice strap on, and a vibrator against his cock has him turning the bullets up on you. Also having a leash and collar on him makes intimate times more fun for pulling on it when you lose your mind. Not opposed to cock rings either. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Simeon can have you seated on a vibrator at full speed and sit there watching you writhe. He loves to tease. He'll ask you questions about how well you like it, accompanied with a blindfold he will tease relentlessly.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's actually loud, it's the only time you hear him vocalize himself beyond his soft spoken tones. He is likely to moan out "ahs" Simeon is particularly loud right before he cums letting his emotions out and getting really into the feel of it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Simeon has a kick for partial exhibitionism. He might enjoy the idea of nearly being caught, the "what will happen." He is fond of skirts as you can sit in his lap and look innocent while his fingers or cock are buried deep.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Simeon would be a little above average, around 8 1/2 in length, beautifully curved towards his belly. A lovely girth that makes you happy to climb in his lap alot.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I see him as a demisexual type, won’t have alot of sexual attraction unless there is a bond created. So once he has found someone he will gladly romp around in the sheets with, his drive is high after the first few tastes. Can expect him dragging you off alot in between classes maybe, or finding excuses to have you over or visiting you frequently. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He lasts long enough to clean up, and cuddle excessively. He does have good stamina unless the session was mind blowing then he is more than happy to fall asleep knowing how satisfied you are.

[drabbles-mc]

Wait I just read the head canon of the “spider in the shower” scenario and they were AMAZING. So spot on😭. I am here to put in a request for this but for the Mayans and if you want to/have time for the rest of the SOA boys. I just loved it soooo much 🥺 you write so well for these characters!!!

Ask and you shall receive! For those wondering, Here is the original Spider in the Shower HC for the SOA boys.

HC for the Mayans Men under the cut! These are a little different set-up-wise since as far as we know the Mayans clubhouse doesn't have dorms. So these all take place in houses or apartments or whatever you picture these boys living in

Bishop:

- he heard you scream and came running from the other end of the house, banging on the bathroom door, “Sweetheart, you alright? Open up!” The two-second delay between him saying that and you unlocking the door felt like an eternity to him. He never heard you scream like that before

- when he walked in he expected to see blood everywhere, or something completely shattered and broken. But nothing seemed out of place. The only thing that seemed off was you, sitting up on the sink counter dripping water while staring at the bathtub.

- “What’s going on?” he looks around the bathroom but can’t for the life of him figure out what’s wrong. He grabs a towel and drapes it around your shoulders as he follows your line of sight.

- “Why the fuck is there a spider in our shower?” you look up at him.

- he wasn’t used to you asking questions so aggressively. He made a mental note that spiders were a tense topic for you. He could only shrug in response before saying, “I didn’t send out invites, you know. Don’t look at me like that,” you could see that he was trying not to smile and failing miserably.

- “Will you kill it, please?” your tone switched from annoyed to pleading. He chuckled as he peered behind the shower curtain, “You sure you don’t want me to just catch him and put him outside?” You raised your eyebrows, “And give him the chance to come back? No fucking way.”

- he didn’t say anything else as he took his boot off and smack it against the wall, effectively putting the spider out of commission. You stayed on the sink out of the way as he grabbed a tissue and cleaned up the mess, throwing the spider in the trash

- he scooped you up off the sink counter and walked you back to your shared bedroom, hiding his laughter by pressing his lips against your bare shoulder. He set you down on the bed and threw you one of his old t-shirts to put on. The two of you looked at each other in silence for a few moments before you finally spoke up, “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” He laughed as he collapsed on the bed next to you, “I won’t...for now.”

Angel:

- he thought that he was in for a sexy time in the shower with you. He was eagerly slipping out of his jeans and tank top as he watched you hop into the shower, disappearing behind the curtain.

- he peeled off his socks and was getting ready to hop in the shower behind you when the sound of your scream filled the tiny space at his house. He didn't even have time to try and register what was going on as you leapt out of the shower, water still running, and slamming into him. You sent both of you crashing into the sink counter

- “Fuck, Y/N, what’s the matter with you?” he was rubbing his hip where it had just gotten jammed into the corner of the counter

- “There’s a spider in there!” He looked at you, not completely surprised, “So you gotta bodyslam me? C’mon, querida, it can’t be that scary. It’s way smaller than you.” You narrowed your eyes at him, “Then you go kill it!”

- he scoffs, reaching and shutting the water off before peeling the curtain back, “Maybe I will.” He does his signature, cocky little head shake that drives you nuts when it’s directed at you.

- he holds his hand out behind him, “Gimme a tissue.” You set one in his hand, eagerly watching over his shoulder as he catches and crushes the spider inside the tissue. He turns back to you, a proud smirk on his face, “See? All taken care of.” He tosses it in the toilet and flushes it away.

- Once it’s gone for good, he reaches and turns the shower back on. His expression changes completely when he turns back around to you and sees you pulling your rode on. “Where you goin’, querida?” he looks so genuinely confused.

- you shake your head, “I’m not getting back in that fucking shower tonight. Have fun.” You don’t give him the chance to try and change your mind and you can hear him groaning behind you as he shuts the shower back off again, admitting defeat.

Coco:

- swings the door open with an amount of force that you’d never seen, baseball bat in his hand, “Who the fuck is in here?!” he looks frantically around the bathroom, trying to locate whoever it was that made you scream like that.

- it took a second before he noticed that you were standing to the side of him, tucking yourself neatly into the corner of your bathroom. He saw the way your hair was still dripping and quickly looked you over to make sure that you were physically okay.

- “What happened?” his hand was still gripping the baseball bat tightly. You pointed to the shower, “There’s a spider in the shower...”

- he couldn't pretend that he wasn’t confused, “Alright. And?” You scoffed, “What do you mean and?” He shrugged, “I mean and what the fuck made you scream like that? It bite you or somethin’?” You sighed, “No! It didn’t bite me. I just...I don’t want a spider in the shower with me, Coco! You gotta kill it!”

- his grip on the bat finally loosened up a bit. He shook his head, “You had me thinkin’ there was a murderer in here or some shit. You can’t kill it yourself?” You flashed him your best puppy-dog eyes, “C’mon, Coco, please?” He tilted his head slightly, “Whatchu gonna do if this happens when I’m not here?”

- you sighed. You should’ve known that it wasn’t going to be an easy thing with him. The man put holes in people’s heads on a semi-regular basis for the club without question, but asking him to squash a bug was going to spark a philosophical discussion.

- “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Please, Coco, I don’t wanna do it.” It was evident in his eyes that he was contemplating leaving you to deal with the problem on your own. But he was soft for you and couldn't follow through on it. With a sigh, he climbed into the tub and stomped the spider with no hesitation before washing it down the drain.

- he kissed your forehead, “Next time you gotta do it. Survival of the fittest, Ma.” You rolled your eyes, “My knight in shining armor.” He turned around and flashed you the cocky smile that made you weak in the knees every time, “Damn right.”

EZ:

- the sound of your yell filled the entirety of the small trailer. He jumped up off the bed and made his way to the small pocket of space that passed for his bathroom and was instantly bombarded by you running into him. The front of his shirt instantly became soaked, absorbing all the water from your body.

- “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he gripped you gently but firmly by the outsides of your arms. You shook your head, “This trailer is not big enough for the three of us, Ezekiel.” His eyebrows furrowed, “Three of us?” You nodded, “Yea. You, me, and your hairy eight-legged friend in there,” you gestured towards the bathroom.

- that was when he realized what happened. He smiled down at you before he thought better of it and you pushed his chest, “It’s not funny!” He nodded, forcing a serious expression as he held his hands up in surrender, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

- “Want me to take care of it?” the smirk was already reappearing on his face. You huff, “No, I want the three of us to learn how to live in harmony together.”

- “I know you’re being sarcastic,” he chuckled as he shuffled past you to get to the bathroom, “But that would make for a good story.”

- you were shaking your head as you grabbed one of his shirts to wear, sitting down on the bed as you watched him try to maneuver around in the small space to kill the spider.

- “Sorry, buddy,” EZ spoke to the creature as he got ready to squash it with a tissue, “but she said that we can’t be friends.” You rolled your eyes, “You’re not about to make me feel bad about this, EZ.”

- he reemerged from the bathroom, tossing the tissue into the garbage can, “Sounds like a guilty conscience, to me.” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, “You’re the worst.” He laughed as he peeled off his now-soaked shirt, “Is that any way to thank the guy who just saved you?”

- you pressed your lips into a thin line, staying silent for a moment before grabbing the other pillow and throwing it at him, “Thank you.”

Creeper:

- 100% comes running into the bathroom with his shotgun in his hand after he hears you scream

- has never heard you express that kind of fear before and definitely think that someone was hiding in the shower and had a knife to your throat or something

- when he sees you perched up on the closed toilet lid he is confused to say the least. Your hair is dripping and you hadn’t even bothered to grab a towel when you jumped out of the shower

- still not completely sure what’s going on, he refuses to completely set down his gun, instead letting it dangle by his side as he looks you over, “Hey, Mama, what’s going on in here?”

- not getting up from your perch, you point to the shower, “You gotta kill it, Neron.”

- “Kill what?” he rips the curtain back but doesn’t see anything at first

- you point aggressively towards the corner of the shower where all the body wash and shampoo bottles are stacked, “The spider!”

- “The spider?” he fights back a laugh as he rests the shotgun across his shoulders, arms dangling over it, “You screaming like that over a spider?”

- “Will you kill it already?!”

- he hands you a towel to wrap around your shoulder, chuckling as he sets his gun down outside the bathroom door. You try to tell him that he might still need the gun and he laughs before stepping into the tub to locate and kill the spider.

- very nicely, he asks you to get off the toilet so he can flush it away down the toilet. You jump up, standing at the very edge of the doorway as you watch him flush it away. He shuts the toilet lid and turns back to you, an amused smile on his face

- “Didn’t know you were afraid of spiders, baby,” he walks over and hugs you, kissing the soaking wet hair on top of your head, “I’ll keep a closer eye out for them.”

- “You better,” you grumble as you lean into his chest, “Or I’m gonna start using the shotgun.”

Hank:

- does not want to burst into the bathroom while you’re in there, feeling like he’s invading your privacy despite the fact that you screamed for him hardly a moment before

- gently knocked on the door and you responded with what he could only describe as a bark as you told him to get in the bathroom now

- once he was halfway inside the door, you pulled him completely in by his hand. He was trying not to stare at you but it was difficult to pry his eyes away from you, not used to seeing you standing around so exposed, and drenched from your shower

- “You gotta kill it, Hank.”

- he raised his eyebrows, “Kill it? Kill what?” You nod towards the shower, “There’s a spider in the shower!”

- all the tension that he was previously holding in his shoulders disappeared. He remembered at one point you’d mentioned that you hated spiders, but he didn't think that you really hated them that much. He knew how much you loved your long, hot showers.

- “I thought you were hurt, Y/N,” he was trying to sound bothered but you could see the smile fighting its way onto his face.

- “Um,” you scoff, “I could’ve been hurt. That thing is the size of a small dog.”

- he chuckled and shook his head, “Alright, alright,” he gently ushered you through the doorway, “Go get changed and I’ll take care of it for you,” he watched you walk towards the bedroom, “Better call the dog warden just in case!”

Taza:

- he heard you calling for him and had no idea what to expect. You weren’t the type to yell across the house for things that you needed.

- when he got to the bathroom, you were standing outside the doorway, towel lazily wrapped around you as you stood and waited for him. With every passing second he became more confused.

- once you told him that there was a spider in the shower and you couldn't go back in the bathroom until it was dead, a smile took over his face and he couldn't help but to laugh

- Che “Catch & Release” Romero

- you were upset that he was going to give the spider a chance to come back and try again to ambush you in the shower, but you knew it was an argument that you weren’t going to win with him.

- within a minute he had it trapped in a cup, covering the opening with his hand as he walked it back through the house to release it.

- he came back to find you sitting cross-legged on the bed, still wrapped in your towel. He tried to sit next to you but you pulled away from him, scooting farther down the bed.

- “What is it, mi amor? Hm?” there was a small, knowing smile on his face as he asked you the question. You huffed, “I don’t want you to touch me with your spider hands!”

- he laughed, “I only touched it with this hand,” he held up his right hand before reaching to caress your face with his left, “So this hand is still safe for you.”

Gilly:

- is under the impression that you are being dramatic about something when you call him into the bathroom for an emergency

- he walks in all cocky, expecting you to have some weird, little favor to ask of him

- he wasn’t thinking that he was going to open the door and nearly cause you to fall over in the process. He catches you, but barely, your dripping skin sliding in his grip.

- “Fuck, what happened in here?” he saw the water all over the floor where you jumped out of the shower

- “You have a spider in your shower!” you pointed frantically. He shook his head, as if he should’ve known that it would be something like that, “So? Shoot it with the showerhead.”

- you give him an offended look, “You shoot it with the showerhead! I don’t want to be anywhere near that thing.” He laughed and pulled the curtain to the side and looked around for the creature in question.

- gets halfway through some smartass remark before seeing the spider and jumping back himself, “Fuck!” 

- your fear would be momentarily outweighed by the satisfaction of seeing Gilly eat his words. You cross your arms over your bare chest, “Just shoot it with the showerhead, baby.”

- you can’t hear too clearly what he’s saying as he grumbles, sliding the boot off of his foot before slamming it down on the floor of the shower, crushing the bug in the process. He would deny it if anyone asked him about it after the fact, but you definitely heard him let out a sigh of relief once he lifted up the boot and saw that the spider was dead

Riz:

- is full of worry as he rushes to the bathroom

- he walks in and sees you standing, leaning back against the sink counter, water dripping off your body onto the floor. His initial instinct is to try and take care of you, grabbing a towel and trying to wrap it around your shoulders.

- “You gotta kill the spider, Riz,” you were completely ignoring the soft gestures he was trying to give you.

- “Wh-what?” he was thoroughly confused, still trying to drape the towel around your shoulders. You grabbed the towel from him, breaking his singular concentration, “There’s a spider in your shower, Riz. You gotta kill it.”

- “Is that what made you scream?” he gently wiped some of the water off of your cheek, “It’ll probably leave you alone if you wanna finish your shower, hermosa.” You turn and look at him, dumbfounded, “Do you...do you shower when you know there’s a spider in there with you?” He shrugged, “We just don’t bother each other.”

- you couldn't believe what you were hearing, “How long have you known there’s a spider in there?” He could sense that he was in hot water already but he couldn't force himself to lie to you, “I mean, I don’t know if it’s always the same spider but--” You couldn't listen to any more of what he was about to say, “Kill it, Michael. Please.”

- he grabbed a second towel and threw it down on the floor to soak up some of the water that you’d dragged out of the shower with you, “Okay, okay. Whatever you want, querida. Go dry off, I’ll take care of the spider.”

- as much as you wanted to be as far away from the spider as possible, you stayed, “I wanna make sure you actually get rid of it.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he reached and shut the shower off. He saw it crawling up onto the lip of the tub and with one smooth motion he crushed it underneath the toe of his boot.

- “All better?” he turned back to you. You tapped your finger against his chest, “No more letting bugs be guests in our shower. I’ll leave. I’ll move out.”

Bonus- Nestor (because i love him):

- he swung the door open and was met with the sight of you standing on top of the closed toilet lid. Instantly he felt like whatever the situation was, was above his paygrade. The shower was still running and water was all over the floor.

- he held his hands out to help you down, “Get down from there. You’re gonna fall and crack your skull.”

- “Better than letting that thing in there kill me!” it was dramatic, but you didn't care. His brows furrowed in confusion, “What thing? Where?” You pointed to the shower, “There’s a spider in the shower, Nes!”

- the expression on his face let you know that he felt that it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this level of nonsense. He ran his hands down his face before holding them out to you again, “Please get down off the toilet, Y/N.” You shook your head, “Not until you kill the spider.”

- with a deep sigh, he turned the water off in the shower and pulled the curtain to the side. He scanned the tub for a minute before finally finding the threat. He wouldn't admit it to you, but he understood why it freaked you out--it was a big fucking spider.

- not thinking better of it, he picked your slide up off the floor and slammed it down onto the spider, crushing it on the bottom of your shoe. You whined, “Why’d you have to use my shoe?” He turned back to you, his expression painfully neutral, “The spider is dead, isn’t it?” he held his hands out yet again, “Now please get down from there.”

- you placed your hands in his and let him help you down, instantly wrapping your legs around his waist so that he was forced to hold you. It got a laugh out of the both of you as he caught you, holding you up with ease.

- “You owe me new slides, you know,” you chuckled as he carried you to the bedroom. He laughed, “Only if you promise not to climb on the toilet anymore.”

[sneezyminniejo]

Hii! Can I request a sickfic where Stray Kids are on tour in Japan and Hyunjin get a stomach bug? Thank you..

Here it is, hope you enjoy,

TW emeto

Hotel Mess

The Stray Kids members were currently in Japan for the last leg of their world tour. They had already done two concerts here and had one more scheduled for tonight and one for tomorrow night before heading back home. They were all still extremely excited and pumped for their concerts. Well all except for one member.

Hyunjin had woken up feeling like absolute shit. He had a headache, he felt both hot and cold, and his stomach was churning uncomfortably. He wasn't entirely sure how or where since he was really only ever around his fellow members, but it was clear he somehow caught a stomach bug.

Hyunjun knew that he needed to tell someone he was sick, but wasn't sure how to broach the topic. Mainly because Jisung's anxiety was flaring up a bit and he didn't want to make everyone more stressed.

However, Hyunjin didn't have to debate whether or not he should hide his illness, because as soon as he stood up he became extremely dizzy while his stomach lurched violently.

He did his best to stagger his way to the bathroom of his room, but didn't quite make it.

Before he could even reach the halfway mark to the bathroom, Hyunjun bent forward and gagged. A split second later a round of sick was making its appearance on the carpet of the hotel room. He dry heaved a couple of times after he finished puking then sat down next to the puddle, any energy he'd had previously, now depleted entirely.

Jisung, who had been in the bathroom brushing his teeth, had heard some kind of commotion coming from his roommate and fellow 2000 liner, but wasn't entirely sure what it was. He spit the toothpaste into the sink, rinsed his mouth, then left the bathroom to investigate.

What he found was Hyunjin sitting on the floor in between the two beds with a puddle of vomit next to him. He quickly hurried over to him and placed his hand on the older's forehead, not the slightest bit surprised to find him feverish.

"Jinnie, you feeling okay?" He asked his sick hyung. Hyunjin groaned while shaking his head while holding his abdomen. "Do you need help getting to the bathroom?" Jisung asked, not quite sure what all he could do, but gently helped Hyunjun to his feet when he nodded.

Jisung safely got Hyunjin situated in front of the toilet just in time to watch him begin puking again. Jisung watched his hyung empty the contents of his stomach for a good minute before helping him rest against the bathtub when he finished.

“Aish hyung, you aren’t in any condition for the concert tonight. I need to tell Chan hyung and figure out how to get the carpet cleaned.” Jisung was primarily thinking out loud, but Hyunjin heard every word and was in no condition to argue. As much as he’d like to argue about telling Chan he can’t perform, the room was spinning and there were two Jisungs. Hyunjin just wanted to go back to bed.

Jisung momentarily left the bathroom to go digging in his suitcase for the thermometer that he knew was in there. Chan always made sure that at least one member per rooming arrangement had one along with other items just in case. He quickly found it and scanned the other’s forehead. “Shit hyung, we need to get this lowered fast. Your fever is 103.2.” Jisung quickly turned on the faucet of the bathtub, making sure it was lukewarm and waited for it to fill up.

Jisung helped Hyunjin undress down to his boxers, then helped him into the tub. He then quickly left again to grab his phone and returned to the bathroom. When he got to the bathroom however, Hyunjin’s face somehow got paler and greener. Jisung rapidly grabbed the tiny trash can located near the toilet and held it under his hyung’s head.

Hyunjin gagged a couple of times before his head was basically thrust into the can as he dry heaved into it. After several moments of dry heaving, only a small stream of bile came out. Hyunjin leaned back when he was done and whimpered in discomfort. He then heard a phone ringing quickly followed by Jisug answering it.

“Yeah hyung, Jinnie is in zero condition for the concert tonight. He’s thrown up at least twice and he’s got a high fever.” Hyunjin turned to see that Jisung was talking on the phone.” Jisung sighed as he hung up the phone and turned back to Hyunjin.

“Chan hyung is having a manager talk with the front desk about getting us moved to a different room. You stay in the tub for a bit and I’ll make sure our suitcases are set for the move. Holler if you need me.” With that Jisung left the bathroom.

It only took a few minutes for Jisung to get everything put together and he returned grabbing the thermometer off the bathrom counter. He quickly scanned Hyunjin’s forehead again. “It’s a little bit lower hyung. It’s now 102.8. Let’s get you out of the tub and changed, the manager will be here shortly. The manager showed up and helped carry the bags while Jisung braced Hyunjin. He offered to carry the sick member, but Jisung adamantly refused not wanting to increase the chance of it spreading beyond him and Hyunjin. He just needed to convince Chan to let him sit out of the concert as well.

The duo got into the room and their manager told them that he called room service to bring up some soup. He then left to go buy some fever reducers on Jisung's request.

Jisung helped Hyunjun get settled on the bed nearest to the bathroom. "How do you feel hyung?" Jisung asked. "Like shit." Was all Hyunjin said. "I'm going to quick fill up the ice bucket. Do you think you'll be okay for a few minutes?" Hyunjin nodded and Jisung left the room with the bucket.

In the few minutes that Jisung was gone, the soup had arrived and was sitting on a cart outside the room. Jisung placed the ice bucket on the cart and wheeled into the room. He brought the bowl of soup over to the sick member then took the bucket to the bathroom to fill with water.

Hyunjin was a bit hesitant to eat the food. He wasn't sure how his body was going to tolerate anything, but also knew he needed to eat something. He began to eat slow bites of the soup as Jisung returned with a bucket of ice water and a washcloth.

Jisung sat on the bed next to Hyunjin and dipped the cloth in the bucket before wringing it out and placing it on the older's neck. Jisung then turned on the TV and began eating his own bowl of soup. The duo ate in relative silence, and by the time they finished Hyunjin was beginning to nod off.

Jisung quickly and quietly put the bowls back on the cart before getting back on the bed to cuddle with his sick hyung. He knew it wasn’t the smartest idea, but he knew that Hyunjin loved to cuddle when he wasn’t feeling good. Jisung also had a fairly strong immune system. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had last been genuinely sick with anything other than a minor cold, and those usually lasted like three days, so he wasn’t worried. Jisung fell asleep not too long after Hyunjin.

About an hour later, Hyunjin suddenly woke up a bit confused. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had woken up, but before he could ponder it any, he began throwing up all over the bed and his oldest dongsaeng.

Hyunjin felt like he couldn’t control himself at all. He could feel how his stomach contracted painfully as it pushed the bile and the soup from lunch up his throat. Which in turn triggered his gag reflex so he could properly expel whatever was making his stomach so angry.

Once he had finished puking, he was able to take note of what had happened and realized that he had puked all over his dongsaeng, who was sitting frozen on the bed and looked to be on the brink of tears. Hyunjin was about to start apologizing, but Jisung shot up and ran to the bathroom before he could. A few seconds later, Hyunjin could hear what sounded like Jisung puking.

“Sungie, are you okay?” Hyunjin called, guilty that his dongsaeng had evidently caught his stomach bug. He met with further retching around noises that sounded kind of like ‘I’m fine. A minute later, Jisung emerged from the bathroom, stripped down to his boxers.

“That did not feel good.” Jisung muttered as he dug through his suitcase for some clean clothes. He looked up to find Hyunjin looking extremely guilty. “What’s up hyung?” he asked somewhat cautiously. Hyunjin sniffled, “I got you sick.” Jisung chuckled at that.

“While I have to admit that puking so suddenly and hard like that did not feel good, and that technically you did cause the puking, I’m not sick.” Hyunjin’s face morphed from guilt and concern to confusion at that statement.

“I operate pretty well around vomit and people puking, but as soon as someone pukes on me, my body kind of freaks out and decides it needs to expel whatever as well. I promise I’m fine.” Jisung finished his explanation then began to strip the bed of the duvet, which caught the puke that hadn’t landed on his lap.

“I think you should take it easy tonight though Sung, just in case.” Jisung nodded in understanding and took his phone off the nightstand, calling Chan.

After a couple of rings, Chan picked up. “What’s up Sung, How’s Jinnie?” “About that hyung, Hyunjin threw up again, then threw up right after.” Chan sighed upon hearing this. “Alright, I’ll talk with the managers and the other members and see if we can manage the show with just six, or if we have to cancel or postpone tonight’s concert. We’ll discuss tomorrow’s concert tomorrow. Feel better you two.” Chan hung up shortly thereafter, leaving the two oldest 2000 liners to their own devices.

Jisung put the phone down and noticed the box of fever reducers he had completely forgotten about on the cart with the room service. He grabbed the thermometer, the medicine, and some crackers before going back over to Hyunjin. He scanned the older’s forehead with the thermometer. “The good news is your fever is still down a little at 102.8, but the bad news is it hasn’t gone down any more. Do you think you can stomach a few crackers and take some medicine?” Hyunjin nodded and took the crackers. After he ate the crackers he took the offered dose of medicine and slumped back against the pillow.

It was soon decided that it would be too difficult to rearrange the choreography from eight people to six on such short notice, so management issued a statement postponing the remaining two concerts for the following week. Thankfully the location they were performing in was free the following week, so it wasn’t too difficult to rearrange some things. Twitter and Bubble had been blowing up from concerned fans wishing the sick members ‘get well soon’.

During the week they now had off for recovery, Jisung made sure that no one else actually came into the room. He only opened the door to receive the food their manager had arranged, successfully keeping the stomach bug contained to his and Hyunjin’s hotel room.

Just as Jisung had told Hyunjin, he was absolutely fine. He had never developed a fever and only puked the one time, so it was fairly safe to say he hadn’t caught the virus.

Hyunjin on the other hand spent the first couple of days throwing up every few hours. Thankfully he was able to keep food down to some extent, so his fever was able to be kept at a manageable number. He stopped vomiting three days into the week, and his fever broke two days before the first rescheduled concert. Hyunjin went on vlive the day before the first concert to talk with Stay and assure them that he was feeling much better, but wouldn’t be dancing during the concert. Jisung also made an appearance and assured fans that no one else had gotten sick as they had both remained sequestered to their hotel room the entire time.

[slytherflynn]

Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Five

Link to Masterpost

To all of you who I’ve been tormenting with Rules of Engagement, please accept this as an apology. To those of you who read this but not my other work, enjoy!

I continue to accept prompts for this in my ask box. Today’s prompt:

"This bath is too damn hot." / "This is why we can't do cute things. You complain too much."

~*~*~

The next day, after Sam had assured her that she wouldn’t need to come into work for at least a week, Aelin hobbled up the stairs and into the bathroom with the help of the crutches she had been given. Rowan had watched warily from the bottom of the stairs, but she had stated in no uncertain terms that there were certain things she needed to be able to do for herself and he had let her go.

After going through her care instructions with Rowan, she had learned that she wasn’t supposed to take the boot off for at least the first week at all, which meant it had to be covered while she cleaned herself. That was accomplished easily enough with a trash bag and tape, but she wasn’t about to attempt to balance herself on crutches in a shower when there was a perfectly good bathtub available to her. The other option, simply waiting until she could put more weight on her leg before getting clean, was thoroughly unacceptable to her; she had spent quite long enough smelling like the bar.

The problem, she realized, was getting into the tub. She had managed to fill it easily, and she was still more than capable of undressing herself. But even with the crutches she realized she wouldn’t be able to lift herself over the lip of the tub without risking another fall and further injury. This left her only one option, and she hoped she could make it work because she desperately needed to get clean.

Sitting on the lid of the toilet, she pulled her phone out of the pocket of her discarded pants and began to type.

Rowannnnnn.

As she waited, she saw three dots appear on her screen to indicate he was typing. The indicator disappeared a few seconds later, then reappeared. This pattern occurred twice more before she finally received a reply.

Given that I doubt you would text simply to pester me when I’m still in the house, I’m going to assume you need something.

Aelin scoffed and hurried to reply. Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t pester you at any given time of day.

Either you need something or I’m going to have to assume that you are somehow managing to miss me despite us both existing in the same space.

Despite herself, she laughed at the response. You remember how you told me to let you know if I did need something?

Given that we had this conversation less than five minutes ago, I’d be hard pressed to forget.

Who spells out 5 in a text?

I do. Get to the point.

Well, you see, I’d come up the stairs with the intention of making sure I didn’t smell like the bar for the rest of the week.

Aelin paused after sending that message and bit her lip, wondering how best to phrase the favor she needed to ask of him. As she watched and debated, he started and then thought better of several more responses before finally sending one.

Last I checked, you broke your ankle and not your hand or wrist. You can’t possibly need me to wash your hair for you.

As if you’d do it if I asked. But no.

You need help getting in the bath I heard you run, don’t you?

If I said yes, would you actually help or are you just going to make fun of me?

Another couple of aborted responses from him appeared and then disappeared, and she was about to text him again when he finally replied. You’re really lucky I’m used to you having no concept of boundaries. I’m on my way.

Aelin barely had time to sigh in relief before she heard his quiet footsteps approaching on the stairs. He opened the door with an unimpressed look on his face. “I’d ask if you were decent, but I suspect the answer to that question is almost never ‘yes’,” he said drily.

“Rude,” she replied flippantly. “I’d say enjoy the view while you’re helping, but we both know you’re allergic to fun so I’m sure you won’t.”

“At least I’m somewhat organized,” he retorted. “Whereas you seem to have flung your clothes into every possible corner of the room.”

“Someone ought to see these undergarments. It’s just a pity it’s you, and the context leaves something to be desired.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Do you want my help or not?”

Aelin sighed and relented. “I really do. I hate smelling like the entire contents of the bar.”

Rowan nodded and began unbuttoning his shirt, and she lifted her own eyebrows as she watched, only to see him scowling in reply. “Could you not? I’d rather not get my clothes wet, is all.”

“That’s fine,” she replied innocently. “I’m just surprised that you choose to wear complicated clothes even on your day off.”

“At least one of us should look presentable, don’t you think?”

Before she could think of something sufficiently witty to say in response, he removed his shirt and she was soon openly staring. She had never seen him anything less than fully clothed, not even with his sleeves rolled up, and now she could see why. A full sleeve tattoo of intricately-inked script in language she couldn’t quite decipher covered the entirety of his left arm, from his shoulder down to his wrist, stopping just above where the sleeves of his shirts normally ended. “That’s incredible work,” she breathed.

Rowan only shrugged uncomfortably and lifted her into his arms.

“Seriously,” she continued. “It’s beautiful. What does it say?”

“It tells a story.”

“Will you tell it to me?”

“Not today.”

Before she could say anything else he was lowering her into the water, and she sighed in relief as he hissed. “This bath is too damn hot,” he muttered.

“See, this is why we can’t do cute things,” Aelin retorted. “You complain too much.”

“It can damage your skin,” he pointed out as he carefully positioned her right leg on the lip of the tub.

“I’ve done far worse to my skin, I assure you.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Will you need me to get back out, too? Or can I leave now?”

“That depends, if I voluntarily eat one of your salads after this with no complaining about eating rabbit food will you wash my hair?”

“No.”

Aelin sighed. “I need to find a better bribe for you, but you won’t eat sweets so I’m at a loss.”

“Your voluntarily eating a balanced diet will serve as thanks for me working from home this week,” he retorted.

Aelin blinked up at him, surprised. “You’re working from home?”

“You’re clearly incapable of taking care of yourself,” he pointed out, green eyes glimmering with amusement.

Aelin shrieked, feigning outrage, and ran a cupped hand through the bathwater to gather enough to splash him. When she dared to look at his face it was frozen in an expression of shock, water droplets forming at the ends of platinum locks and rolling down his face. She did her best to keep her amusement out of her expression, but it only lasted five seconds before she dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Gods, your face!”

Rowan only stood, motions graceful and fluid and deceptively calm, and walked toward the door. When he deigned to glance over his shoulder at her, his green eyes were glimmering and he was smirking. “I do hope you remember that I know where you sleep.”

As the door quietly closed behind him, Aelin realized she would spend the rest of her bath wondering if she would come to regret her actions or if it had been completely worth it to see such shock on Rowan’s face.

~*~*~

Aelin awoke to a touch on her shoulder and blearily looked in the direction it had come from to meet green eyes filled with concern. “—been an hour, you should really be getting out now,” he was saying.

“Oh. Um. I guess I fell asleep,” she admitted sheepishly.

“That much is obvious. You know if you needed help you could’ve asked, right?”

Aelin nodded. “I do. I don’t remember trying to get out, I think I fell asleep as soon as I finished cleaning up.”

“Well, let’s get you out of here, then,” he replied, hands already reaching out to help.

Between the two of them, they managed to get Aelin out of the water and onto unsteady feet on the tile floor of the bathroom, Rowan’s hands still holding onto her elbows to help her regain her balance. She attempted to take a step toward where she had left her towel and slipped, but before she could do more than gasp in surprise his arms slid around her, pulling her into his chest to keep her upright.

As her skin brushed against his, she couldn’t help but shiver with the realization that she was still completely bare and he had never put his shirt back on. It was just that she hadn’t had anything like this in quite some time, she told herself as the thrill of his touch ran through her. It wasn’t anything to do with Rowan specifically.

Rowan finally realized how close they were and took a step back, reaching behind himself and blindly groping for the towel she’d left on the counter. Finally, he gently shoved it at her and quietly left.

When Aelin saw her reflection in the mirror, her cheeks were still slightly flushed, eyes overly bright as they followed the movement of a droplet of water down her neck and over the curve of one of her breasts. Gods, what a sight she must’ve been. No wonder Rowan had fled.

Quickly, she dried herself off and collected her clothing before hobbling back into her bedroom. She took longer than usual carefully braiding her hair away from her face, telling herself it was to give her roommate a chance to hopefully move past his discomfort and not at all to calm her own nerves.

Hobbling down the stairs with her crutches took far longer than it had to go up the stairs, and Aelin took a moment about halfway through her journey to debate the merits of just sleeping on the couch for at least another week. Just until she could put some more weight on her foot.

While she was still paused halfway down the stairs, she heard and then saw Rowan approach. Before he could get too close, though, or ask her if she needed any help, she glared until he wordlessly raised his hands in surrender and waited at the bottom of the staircase.

Finally, she managed the rest of the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief as Rowan watched her carefully. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be with only one foot,” she admitted.

“I set up a cot for you in the office,” he said quietly. “I thought it might be easier for you if you don’t have to go up the stairs as often. If you tell me what you want I can bring some of your clothes down, too. Or I could just hand them to you as they come out of the laundry you haven’t done,” he grinned.

“Hey, I’ve had a valid reason for being behind,” she muttered.

“For three months?” He ducked into the office with a grin before she could stammer out a reply, emerging with his laptop. “I’ve set a makeshift desk up for myself in the kitchen, so you can have the room to yourself.”

Aelin nodded, but rather than move into the office and inspect her new room she turned toward the kitchen. Before she had gone to take her bath, she had baked a pan of brownies, knowing that she would need the rich chocolate to get through her week with any semblance of happiness. They would be cool enough by now for her to cut one out of the pan, and if Rowan was feeling generous enough to help her set up a makeshift bed then surely he wouldn’t complain about her having just one.

She reached the counter and pulled the pan toward her, already anticipating the taste of chocolate…

Only to find a neat square already cut and removed from the exact middle of the pan.

Gods dammit, she had known she would pay for her antics when she’d splashed Rowan. But this was beyond revenge. No, this was inhuman. He probably hadn’t even eaten it, just thrown it away or relocated it to somewhere else in the kitchen.

Torn between anger and disbelief, she screeched. “Rowan!”

Her cry was only met with the sound of laughter and the sound of feet retreating up the stairs.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou

[atmilliways]

I was channeling exhausted Charles a little hard, because gd is moving tiring... I know I have some messages I should really get to answering, and I promise that will happen soon. 

Anyway, happy belated birthday, @insomniac-pens!

Charles is couch surfing against his will; Emeto mention; Implied/Referenced Drug Use; Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; Early klok

C'mon, Charlie, Stay

There was, for a brief period, a time when Charles was between apartments due to an unfortunate infestation problem that had allowed him to break his lease early. It allowed him to lease a much better place, closer to both his office and the new band he was managing, but with one catch: it wouldn’t be available for him to move in for another six weeks.

To his surprise, once the band found out about this they flat out refused to leave him alone until he agreed to crash on their couch. No amount of pointing out that he had the money to just stay in a hotel until his move-in date seemed to sway them. So, he dutifully shelled out his hotel money to pay for Dethklok’s apartment to be professionally cleaned and the couch reupholstered, and that was that. 

Except, dear god, when did these men sleep. 

Charles tried to think of them as men, but frankly it got harder the longer he stayed with them. Murderface had only recently turned twenty-one, and Nathan and Toki were still technically underage; that didn’t stop them or Skwisgaar or Pickles from constantly partying themselves stupid. 

In the very living room (which they also used for band practices) where he was trying to sleep. 

The last straw was when they gave Toki shrooms for the first time and he puked all over the coffee table, including the glasses that Charles had carefully folded and placed there before settling in for the night. Without a word of complaint or reprimand, he was simply up and packed and dressed enough to drive to the nearest hotel, because this was clearly not working.

“Dood dood dood, where’re ya going?” Pickles gabbled, dragging on the manager’s arm as he tried to head out of the front door. 

“To get a hotel room, a hot shower, and a good night’s sleep,” Charles replied, although personally he felt that this should have been obvious. 

“But you can do all that here!”

Charles sighed, resettling his duffle bag on his shoulder. “Thank you, Pickles, but we both know it’s, ah, only a matter of time before I get vomited on, and cleaning my glasses off was unpleasant enough.”

As if on cue, there were more retching sounds from further inside the apartment, followed by shouts and whoops of “He got the couch,” “That’sch twenty points,” and “Directs hits, everiesones does to takes the drink-shots!”

Pickles grimaced. “Okay, so maybe the kid wasn’t ready for caps. That’s my bad, I’m sahrry. But dood, you should still stay. . . .” He trailed off, looking around with a kind of urgent disappointment that Charles had only previously seen when the drummer was trying to find a misplaced stash. Then, with an uncertain grin, he added, “You can, uh, you can stay in my room if ya want.” 

“Ah. . . .” Charles blinked. He was very, very tired, and not entirely sure he’d heard that correctly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s got a door’n everything,” Pickles continued, obviously warming to the idea as soon as he saw that Charles wasn’t rejecting it outright. “You can even have the bed, I can ride the floor. Which I can actually see again now, thanks again for hirin’ those cleaners, dood! And I think I can even find ya some clean sheets and stuff. C’mon, Charlie, stay.”

So, soon afterward, Charles found himself back in his pajamas. They were just the t-shirt and boxers that he’d thrown a jacket and slacks over to leave, really, which by his temporary housemates’ standards apparently made him a prude. He was also swaddled in clean sheets and blankets on Pickles’ bed, as promised, and Pickles had receded back out to the party with a vague, Sleep tight, dood. Despite the lumpiness of the mattress Charles was actually quite comfortable and, with the door closed and the lights off, fairly well insulated against the noise of the band’s continued revelry. 

He was asleep within seconds. 

Some time later Charles woke not to loud noise or something landing on him, but because he had to pee. Not bothering to find his glasses or slippers in the dark (though he was wearing socks; he wasn’t an animal), he slipped out of bed and shuffled towards the door—

His foot connected with something warm and soft, possibly a stomach, and someone groaned, “Oof.” 

“Shit,” Charles muttered. He groped along the nearby wall for a light switch. “Ah . . . Pickles, is that you?”

The lights snapped on harsh and bright, and it was indeed Pickles curled up on the floor, red dreads spayed out like fireworks against the dingy carpet, without even a pillow or blanket. “Yeeeeeeah?” Pickles replied blearily, squinting up at him. 

Charles sighed. The last thing they needed was Pickles unable to play gigs because he’d tweaked his back or neck sleeping on the floor—although, in the short time he’d known the man, Charles had seen him passed out in worse positions. Still, couldn’t be too careful while Dethklok was still starting out. 

“Get in bed,” Charles told him. 

“Nnnn.” Pickles rubbed clumsily at his eyes and swiped and the drool that had collected on his goatee. “You get the bed, couch’s fucked fer now. . . .”

It was only a twin-sized mattress. Charles squinted back at it, then gave a mental shrug. “We’ll share. Just get in, I’ll, ah, be right back.”

He stepped over Pickles and headed for the bathroom. Both the toilet and sink were splattered liberally with vomit, enough that he doubted it had all come out of Toki. He hadn’t smelled any on the man he’d just invited to bunk with him, which . . . was all Charles had the energy to care about, at the moment. He sighed again and just pissed in the bathtub, because fuck it, he was still half asleep. 

When he returned, Pickles had already burrowed into the blankets in the dead center of the bed. Not in the mood to be deterred, Charles turned the light off and wedged himself into the available free space on the mattress. 

“Mmmhey,” Pickles mumbled drowsily somewhere near his shoulder. 

“Scoot over,” Charles grumbled back, and when he got no response gave another shove with his hip. That seemed to get the message across because Pickles did scoot, squirming over and turning into him, clinging to Charles’ arm. 

“‘S cold over here,” Pickles offered in explanation. He was pressed close all along the other man’s side, mouth closer to his ear in the darkness; his breath smelled of whiskey, cigarettes, and reefer. “‘Mglad you stayed, Charlie. Hotels fuckin’ suck . . . this is better, isn’t it?”

“Hm,” Charles hummed. All he really wanted to do was settle in and go back to sleep—although the warmth of a body next to his was nice. The hint of smoke was nice too, despite it having been years since he’d given it up himself. Lulling. Like a steady surf washing over him, pulling back, washing over him again. His eyes drifted closed and he felt himself relax, sinking into the mattress as far as the uneven springs would allow. 

Then, a warm press of lips against his, so soft and tentative that at first he thought it was a dream—he often dreamed that way, slipping from real to unreal so quickly the change was imperceptible. And if it was a dream, why not kiss back? Charles let his lips part, turning into it, that warmth, placidly enjoying the gentle scratch of facial hair against his own clean shaven face. 

It was the arm suddenly draped over him that gave him pause. That felt real, a solid palm splayed as near to the small of his back as it could get while he still lay mostly flat. A body leaning flush into his, silently crying out for closeness. Pickles. 

Pickles tasted like a shot of Fireball in a dim, crowded bar. 

Charles blinked his eyes open, breaking the kiss with a hand on the man’s shoulder. A client. A boss, if the band ever made it as big as he was determined to ensure they would. This was a huge breach in his personal code of professionalism. 

“Charlie?” Pickles whispered, and it sounded so much like a plea (I want you, I need you, please don’t stop) that Charles gave his shoulder what hopefully came across as a reassuring squeeze. 

“Pickles,” he murmured gently, “you’re drunk. I’m, ah, not sure this is a good—”

“I’m always drunk,” Pickles interrupted, mumbling petulantly. 

True enough. Charles just hoped the fame and fortune would kick in before lover failure, for all the guys. Boys, really, playing around with their music and drugs and anyone they could get into bed with them. . . . Case in point. 

He just wished he wasn’t so damn tired. Or at least that he was awake enough to handle this situation with the delicacy it deserved, because he hesitated, and sensed instinctively that Pickles noticed. 

Still, he said, “Regardless, I don’t, ah, think this is a good idea.”

“So? Make a bad decision fer once, gahd.” Then Pickles kissed him again, throwing a leg over his manager for good measure and crowding into him once more with an urgent but surprisingly slow rhythm. 

Charles had only known Pickles for several months—personally, anyway, but he wasn’t about to admit to being a Snakes N Barrels fan back in the day now—and had seen his usual approach to getting into someone’s pants. It usually involved lots of smiling, suggestive looks, wandering hands, and friendly offers to share whatever drugs he had on hand at the time. 

Not once had he turned those attempts at charm towards Charles. He’d been insistent, stubbornly helpful, and . . . nervous. Even now, there was a fluttery quality to his grip, as though he expected to be pushed away more than anything else. Charles wasn’t very good at reading this sort of thing, and was only catching up on all this in retrospect, but Pickles seemed to be acting as though this actually  mattered  or something. 

And Charles was tired, and it felt nice. Warm and comfortable. Pickles was drunk; maybe he wouldn’t remember by morning. 

He let himself kiss back, and by the time he fell asleep again it was with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. 

[happylifefanfic]

Safe Place Chapter 6

“Christopher, Jake, Claire!  The movie is starting in 5 minutes,” Emma yelled from the kitchen.  After dinner, the three children had gone to get their pajamas on while Emma cleaned up.  She had promised them earlier in the day that they could watch the newest release on the Disney+ app before going to bed.  

Just as she turned on the dishwasher, her phone rang.  A smile graced her face when she recognized Eddie’s ringtone.

“Hey, love.  How’s your shift going?” she said when she answered the call.

“It’s been okay.  We’ve had some crazy calls so far,” Eddie said with a sigh.  “How’s everything going there?”

“Good!  The kids are getting their pajamas on and then we’re going to watch that new movie they saw a preview for at Disneyland yesterday,” Emma replied as she moved to the room she shared with Eddie to change into her own pajamas.  They had decided to go ahead and move in together after he asked her to marry him.  Their wedding was set for the next month at Athena and Bobby’s house.

“I wish I was there with you guys,” Eddie groaned.  

“I wish you were here too,” Emma sighed.  “At least we’re both off tomorrow before I have to go back to work.”

“Thank God,” Eddie said.  “What time is your brother coming to pick up Jake and Claire?”

“He should be here around 9:00 in the morning, and Carla is coming to pick up Christopher at 9:30,” Emma said as she pulled her pajama top over her head.  The sound of giggles in the living room let her know that the kids were ready to begin the movie.  

“I forgot he wanted to spend the day with her tomorrow,” Eddie said quietly.

“Is that still okay?” Emma asked.  “I can call Carla if you’d rather him stay home.”

“He’d be so mad if we did that,” Eddie laughed.  “Plus, it will be nice to have some time alone.  We haven’t had the house to ourselves in weeks.”

“That will be nice,” Emma said dreamily.  “We have some more wedding planning to do too.”

“Let’s knock as much of it out tomorrow as we can,” Eddie said.  “Are you sure you don’t want to just go to the courthouse?”

“And have your mother and mine kill us both?  No, thank you,” Emma said as she walked down the hall to the living room.  

“I don’t blame you on that one,” Eddie said with a laugh.  Emma laughed along with him as she pulled up the Disney+ app on the television.  She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a loud roaring noise and then the unmistakable sound of an explosion that rattled the house.

“Emma!  What was that?” Eddie yelled through the phone, but got no response. 

Emma had fallen to her knees at the force of the blast and dropped the phone in the process.  Once the house stopped shaking, she grabbed the three children and ushered them quickly into the bathtub in the bathroom closest to them.  All three of them were terrified, and Emma paused a moment to calm them down.  

“You are safe,” she said.  “Stay here while I go check out what happened outside.  Do not leave this room!”

“No!  You can’t go by yourself!” Christopher yelled at her.  

“Christopher, I will be fine,” Emma said soothingly.  “I promise.”

Emma closed the bathroom door behind her and went to grab her gun, badge, and keys.  She grabbed her phone from the floor as she ran towards the front door.  

“Eddie?” she said into the phone.

“Oh thank god!” Eddie exclaimed.  “What on earth happened?”

“I don’t know yet,” Emma said as she jogged outside.  When she turned around to face her old house, a fireball lit up the sky the size of a mountain.

“Eddie, we’re going to need you guys here ASAP,” Emma said as she moved closer to the fireball.  Less than half a mile from their house, she found a scene straight out of a movie.  Remnants of an airplane were strewn all over a section of a neighborhood where houses once stood.  The whole area was engulfed in flames.

“What happened?” Eddie asked.  Emma could hear the sirens from the firetruck in the background.

“A plane crashed,” Emma said.  “The fire is out of control!”

“You need to get away from there,” Eddie yelled at her.

“I know,” she replied as she turned to head back to the house.  “I’m going to get the kids and take them to Athena and Bobby’s.  This fire is huge and it’s going to get bigger with the amount of jet fuel leaking from this plane.”

“Be careful,” Eddie warned.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.  You need to be careful too.  Come home to me safe and sound,” she said before she hung up.  As she got closer to the house, she saw neighbors coming out to investigate.

“You all need to go somewhere safe until the fire department has this area secured,” Emma said as she jogged past them.  When she returned to the house, she ushered the kids out of the house and into her car just as Engine 118 went roaring past.  

“That’s dad!” Christopher yelled. 

“It sure is,” Emma said calmly.  “We’re going to go to Athena and Bobby’s house and wait until it’s safe to come back.”

“Is Eddie going to be okay?” Claire asked with concern from the backseat as Emma maneuvered the car out of the driveway.

“Yeah, baby.  He’s going to be fine.  He does this kind of thing all the time,” Emma said as she smiled at her niece in the rearview mirror.  

On the inside, Emma’s heart was beating faster than normal.  She knew this was not your typical fire and that scared her more than she wanted to admit.  A wave of nausea passed over her as she pulled to a stop in front of Athena and Bobby’s house.  She and the kids went to the door and were greeted by Athena and Maddie.  

“Hey kids!” Athena greeted them.  “Harry is outside on the patio getting games ready for you guys.”

The kids followed Christopher outside as Maddie engulfed Emma in a friendly hug.

“I’m so glad you guys are okay,” she said as she released Emma.  “Buck called when Eddie couldn’t get you on the phone.  I came over to Athena’s to see what we could do to help.”  

“Bobby said the fire was awfully close to you guys,” Athena said to her partner.  “I’m happy to see you were able to get the kids out of there before it got really bad.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Emma said.  “It was like watching a horror movie unfold before my eyes.”

“Bobby said the FFA is reporting that it was a commercial flight out of Houston that crashed,” Athena said solemnly.  Maddie shuddered while Emma quietly hung her head.

“Let’s just focus on keeping things light and positive for the kids,” Maddie said.  

“Great idea,” Athena said.  “I can make us some popcorn.”

“That would be great,” Emma said with a weak smile.  “I’m going to go to the bathroom for a minute.”

“Sure, take your time,” Athena replied.  “We’ll keep an eye on the kids.”

Emma quickly made her way to the bathroom and barely managed to make it to the toilet before she became sick.  Several moments later, she emerged from the bathroom to see Maddie waiting outside the door.  

“How far along are you?” Maddie asked as she handed Emma a wet paper towel.  Emma took it, and gulped loudly.

“Six weeks,” she whispered as she moved the wet paper towel across her face.  

“Does Eddie know?” Maddie asked quietly.

“No,” Emma sobbed.  “I was going to tell him tomorrow after the kids left.  I just found out the day before we went to Disneyland.”

“Oh, honey,” Maddie said as she wrapped Emma in a hug.  “Eddie is going to be thrilled about the baby.”

Emma nodded her head unable to speak at the moment.  

“It’s never bothered me before that he puts his life on the line every time he goes out to a fire,” Emma said.  “I get it because I have a dangerous job as well, but for some reason today, it scares me to death to think of him out there in danger.”

“That’s completely understandable.  You love him, and you just found out that you’re carrying his child,” Maddie said as she rubbed Emma’s back soothingly.  

“You’re right,” Emma said quietly.  “I wish I would have told him about the baby yesterday.”

“You’ll be able to tell him when he gets home,” Maddie said.  “I smell popcorn.  You want some?”

“That actually sounds good right now,” Emma laughed as they headed out to the patio to be with Athena and the kids.  Even as Emma smiled and tried to act like nothing was wrong in front of the kids, her stomach rolled and she fought off the feeling that something awful was going to happen.a

[cuddlepilefics]

Five star Michelin

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Felix

Caregiver: Hyunjin

 No one’s POV.:

Hyunjin had wanted to learn how to cook for a while now but since he barely got to go home to visit his family, he couldn’t ask his mother to teach him. Next option was to maybe ask one of his members but who could he ask without getting made fun of? His first choice would be Chan but the leader wouldn’t even let him into the kitchen for fear of a disaster. Well, that fear wasn’t unfounded but how was the dancer going to get better if he didn’t practice? Then Hyunjin remembered their brownie-boy. Felix was certainly good when it comes to baking, so cooking should be fine. Also, the younger wouldn’t have a problem with letting Hyunjin be in the kitchen, he’d probably find his hyung’s struggle very entertaining. After one of their dance-line practices, the older waited for Minho to leave to the dorm, so he could have a talk with the Aussie alone. “Hey Lix, you know, I wanted to learn that thing for a while and I didn’t really know whom to ask”, Hyunjin started, fiddling with his water bottle. The younger perked up, eyeing his hyung suspiciously: “What thing, hyung?” – “Cooking”, the older admitted, “I really want to be more independent and therefore not starve when left alone. We both know Chan isn’t going to help me, so I thought maybe you could teach me?” The Aussie laughed when he remembered why Hyunjin wasn’t allowed in their kitchen anymore: “You mean because-“ – “DON’T REMIND ME!” – “Alright, I won’t but yeah sure, I can help you. Let’s just wait for the next time, the others go out for a few hours and we have the dorm to ourselves.”

That day came sooner than expected, bot dancers declining when asked if they wanted to join the others. Felix had already picked out a few easy recipes that Hyunjin could choose from and had made sure they’d also have the necessary ingredients. As soon as the door shut behind their friends, the older was pouncing on the Aussie like an excited puppy. Laughing, both made their way to the kitchen, where Felix laid out the tools Hyunjin would need. They picked a recipe and talked it through step by step before the older kicked his dongsaeng out, stating: “Alright, I got this now. Thanks, Lix.” – “You really don’t want me to stay?” – “Nope, but you need to try and give me feedback later.” – “Alright, if you need help just yell”, the younger sighed in defeat, worried their dorm would catch fire if he wasn’t in the kitchen too. He convinced himself that Hyunjin was old enough to do things on his own or would at least get Felix as soon as trouble started, so the Aussie prepared himself to be back in the kitchen within the next two minutes. Those two minutes passed and then another two. After that, he dared to go and play videogames to pass the time. As a precaution, he only put one headphone on and could hear the occasional clanking noises, accompanied by muffled curses. It never got bad enough though for Felix to go check on Hyunjin.

Almost an hour passed and Felix was starting to get worried since he would’ve been done with that recipe in around twenty to thirty minutes. But soon enough, the older popped up next to him begging for the Aussie to come to the table and try. The younger caught a short glimpse at the kitchen which to his surprise seemed….spotless? “Deja vu?”, he chuckled and Hyunjin flushed bright red, mumbling: “Sorry, I had to clean the crime-scene first before letting you come here.” They both broke into a laugh, images of the older’s last cooking attempt flashing in their minds. At least it was already cleaned up and they weren’t risking a scolding from Chan, should the others come back before they got the chance to clean. “Are you not gonna eat?”, the Aussie frowned when Hyunjin only sat one plate on the table in front of his dongsaeng. The older looked at the ground a bit ashamed before he admitted: “I might have gotten carried away, snacking while working, now I’m really full but relieved I at least left enough for one serving.” They laughed again because Felix didn’t judge, he was the same when it came to cookie dough. To say the younger wasn’t a bit hesitant about his first few bites would be a lie but he bravely picked up his chopsticks and dug in. The vegetables were only slightly burned, the sauce was a bit spicy but that could also just be Felix not being Korean and lastly, the meat was still a bit rosy inside, not to badly though. Hyunjin kept watching him expectantly, waiting for either Felix’ approval or his disapproval. At least he hadn’t pulled a disgusted face so far but his expression didn’t give anything away. “Alright, ready for the critique?”, the older nodded cautiously, “So first thing, keep an eye on the veggies when you put them in the pan, second, while you very generously fried the veggies, you could have been a bit more generous with how long you fried the meat. It wasn’t raw, so that’s fine, but it also wasn’t completely done. Otherwise, I don’t really have complaints, just don’t snack as much while cooking because I would have loved eating together and clean the kitchen after the meal, so it’s still warm when you serve it”, the younger concluded, patting his hyung’s head before the older darted of to do a small victory dance in the living room. The Aussie chuckled and went to clean his plate, noticing the kitchen indeed was spotless.

 Felix’ POV.:

Getting Hyunjin to calm down again was a difficult task and I only now realized how hard his lack of cooking skill was on him. We still had some time to spare till the other members would come back home, so we decided to watch Ratatouille together since it suited the occasion well. Sometime around halfway through the movie, my stomach started rumbling loudly. I was glad Hyunjin didn’t hear it because that’d be embarrassing, so I adjusted the volume to ensure it would stay that way. Carefully palming my stomach, I turned my focus back to the TV. It wasn’t painful or anything, so I just thought I was digesting. Only five minutes later, I started second-guessing my assumption because a dull ache had settled in the pit of my stomach and my meal just didn’t seam to sit right. I glanced over at Hyunjin, finding him seemingly perfectly fine although he had been snacking on the same food as me. It was probably just the spice getting to me, that’s why he was fine and I wasn’t handling it as well as he was. When we paused the movie to take a toilet-break, I went to get myself some water, which I hoped would do the trick. Apparently, it didn’t and when we resumed our movie, I could feel the food at the back of my throat while the nausea was rising steadily. It didn’t feel like I needed to throw up, it was just sitting there making my swallow convulsively. Despite the discomfort, I tried to just ride it out and focus back on the movie.

Everything seemed to go well, until my hyung decided it was cuddle time and pressed himself against me. His head ended up on my middle and the added pressure didn’t help my queasiness. Now I was certain I would be throwing up sometime tonight, the only question was when. That question was answered only a few minutes later when my mouth started to water and my throat burned from my quiet acidic burps, that I had been trying to muffle against my hand for a while now. Hurriedly scrambling to my feet, I shoved Hyunjin off of me before I darted down the hallway. My hand was firmly clamped over my mouth while my throat contracted with unproductive gags. I made it to the toilet just in time, bruising my knees on the bathroom tiles, as the first wave of my meal made its reappearance. It didn’t feel any less spicy the second time and the burning sensation in my throat brought tears to my eyes. My stomach was cramping badly now and I could feel it squirm under the hand I had placed on my middle. Hyunjin was by my side in an instant, still shocked from my sudden escape. Glancing at his face, I could see the worry etched in his features before I had to duck my head back into the toilet bowl as my stomach contracted again, sending a larger wave up my throat. It made me choke and no amount of coughing helped me catch my breath again. There was a hand on my back, firmly patting between my shoulderblades, and taking a shuddering breath, I shot my hyung a grateful look. There was a long silence but my stomach didn’t seem to want anything else out. “Are you okay?”, Hyunjin asked hesitantly. I shrugged because honestly, I didn’t know: “My stomach’s kinda upset but I don’t know if I need to be sick again.” – “Was it the food?” That question was expected but again I didn’t know. He had eaten the same stuff, right? “You ate it too, right? Do you feel okay?”, I replied. Lurching back over the bowl as a wave of nausea washed over me, I couldn’t understand his words as I was too focused on not choking on my stomach contents again. The chunks tickling my throat triggered another gag and I didn’t even get a breath in between.

Though it had seemed like the stream wouldn’t end, it eventually did and I flopped with my back against the bathtub waiting to catch my breath. I looked up at Hyunjin questioningly and he repeated that he had at least eaten bits of the different foods and was feeling perfectly fine, asking if maybe I was sick. “I don’t think so, I felt fine all day, no headache, muscle-aches or fever, at least I don’t think I have one”, I rasped and let Hyunjin press the backs of his fingers against my forehead. He shook his head, confirming: “Sweaty and a bit warm but not feverish.” He continued to study me with his brows furrowed only to witness me struggle back onto my knees, heaving dryly. My throat was straining, getting more irritated as I continued to gag uselessly. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get anything else up, so I started to press my fist into my middle and sure enough, it did the trick. I was still panting when I suddenly remembered something: “Hyung, did you also try the meat or just the other stuff?” It had looked a bit undercooked, I just hadn’t thought much of it. Not getting a reply, I waited till it felt safe to move and then sat back to look at my friend. He was biting his lip, looking extremely guilty and that was all the answer I needed.

He sat with me through my entire puking session, apologizing profusely although I tried to assure him I wasn’t mad or anything. At some point I just gave up because my throat hurt too much to talk. Hyunjin helped me back to the couch and made me comfortable with a heating pad, a bucket strategically placed next to me. He also fetched me some water and peppermint tea before we continued to watch TV as a distraction, though we switched to something that didn’t have anything to do with food. I was still way to queasy for that. Exhausted from the whole ordeal, I soon fell asleep with my feet in my hyung’s lap. I didn’t even hear our friends get back home.

 Chan’s POV.:

To say I was surprised to find my dongsaengs in a typical ‘we-have-a-sickie layout’ would be an understatement. Both had seemed fine and perfectly healthy when we left but the heating pad Felix was clutching to his middle and the bucket we literally only used as sick-bucked told me things had changed. The younger seemed to be asleep, so I raised my eyebrow at Hyunjin questioningly, while shushing our other members so they wouldn’t wake the sick Aussie up. It was to no avail and soon, Felix sat up, giving us a confused look. When we all joined them in front of the TV, Hyunjin admitted he had done something he wasn’t supposed to do and told us how he had made food, asking Felix for his opinion. Although Felix said it was fine and that it had even tasted quite good (considering it was made by Hyunjin), the older dancer was roasted relentlessly, unable to defend himself against the teasing. “Guys, please don’t bring up my cooking skills again”, he whined. Minho laughed at him devilishly asking: “Why? Felix did that too.” I had to admit that was actually pretty funny but Felix didn’t seem too happy about it. “Hyuuuung! In a week that joke will probably be hilarious but please shut up or I might do it again”, he whimpered. He did end up doing it again multiple times during the following night and it only stopped in the late afternoon of the next day but Hyunjin was there the entire time, making it up to the younger by taking care of him. We decided together, that Felix and me would be teaching him how to cook but not without our supervision to avoid a repetition of this incident.

[bpdhotmess]

21+ Spring Cleaning Hacks You Need to Know

Spring time: trees are budding,  birds are singing, flowers bloom. It’s time to start freshening our homes… and that’s when the fun ends. Or does it? I sheepishly admit that I haven’t done much spring cleaning in my time, but, this year may be different. There is not much to do. So why not roll up my sleeves and give the house a good going over?

But before we get into the deep cleaning tips, it’s important we first learn the importance of clearing some space. Clutter keeps our homes feeling messy, even after we straighten up. That’s why cleaning a home can feel so overwhelming and endless. 

Good news! There is a simple solution to managing the cleanliness of your home.

Get rid of clutter! When you get rid of clutter, your home naturally becomes clean and satisfyingly functional. Give it a try. Systematically go through your home; Pick up things and ask yourself this question: “Does this item add function to my life?” If the answer is, “No,” then throw it away or donate it. A clean home is a functional home.

Once you clear some space, your home will feel open and inviting. And you will discover that your decluttered home is much easier to clean.  “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” 

Need more decluttering advice? Check out our 5 Marie Kondo hacks. 

Alright, now on to the hacks for professional-grade deep cleaning: 

Yes, the whole spring cleaning process can be a bit daunting, so I thought the best thing to do was to contact a professional for advice. I called my mom, Dolores Breese. She owned a successful cleaning service in the 1990s, but even before then she was a maniac (in a good way) when it came to cleaning. So, I asked her for some spring cleaning hacks.

Where my mom would clean three or sometimes four houses in one day, she had help. You don’t have to do that. Give yourself some time. You don’t have to clean the whole house in one day. You’re allowed to take a few days or weeks to do this type of cleaning. (Or see our hacks to clean your home in under an hour here)

Cleaning the House Dolores Breese-Style

My mom says people no longer spring clean like they used to. Decades ago, people would go through the entire house, take everything down from the walls and clean top to bottom.

If anyone was going to paint or wallpaper, this was the time to do it. 

Begin in the Least-Used Room First

By starting with this room first, your whole house will get the thorough cleaning you have set out to do. If you start somewhere else, you may run out of steam. You are more likely to give yourself a pass from cleaning some rooms because “no one ever goes in there anyways.”

Work From the Top Down

That means get the cobwebs off the ceiling before you sweep the floor. My mom used to have an actual cobweb cleaner. Nowadays you can get a Swiffer that has an extended handle to do the same thing.

Pro Tip: With the Swiffer Duster Starter Kit you can remove the head and replace after every it cleaning to maintain and promote a more germ-free environment in your home. Get your Swiffer today.

Start with the Thing you Hate Most to Clean

This is to give you a psychological advantage. If you start with what you hate to clean first, you’ll get it done and won’t wimp out.

Start in the Corner

After getting the cobwebs down from the entire room, you start in one corner and work around the room. This would be the corner where the thing you hate to clean is.

Clean Every Surface

That means walls, picture frames, knick-knacks, desks, computers and on and on. If it has a surface, it can accumulate dirt and dust. Therefore, it is part of your mission to make it sparkle. 

Pro Tip: If you want to save money on household cleaners, order from Dollar Tree online and have it shipped for free to your local store. Find safe, effective cleaning supplies for just a buck each. 

When you clean surfaces, it is helpful to have cleaning wipes. Use these to clean and disinfect those surfaces.

Move the Furniture

By moving the furniture you can vacuum little touched areas that have accumulated much debris. You’ll be amazed at what you find when you move your furniture away from the wall!

Pro Tip: Moving furniture can be a pain. Why not make it easier on yourself with these furniture sliders? We like this X-Protector variety pack because of the big selection. These will help you slide your furniture easier on all surfaces.

Pro Tip: Pledge furniture polish will do, but if you want the good stuff, you will want to try Milsek Furniture Polish.

Vacuum Your Way out of a Room

If you have worked hard to clean the room, you want to enjoy the finished product. Start at the farthest end of the room and vacuum backwards until you have gotten over the threshold. Carpet that is freshly vacuumed and untouched by footsteps gives you a real sense of satisfaction.

Pro Tip: In our house, we use the Bissell Pet Hair Eraser Turbo Plus Lightweight Upright Vacuum Cleaner. We love that it is bagless and economical. Whether you have a pet or not, the pet hair attachments will achieve a deeper clean.

Dusting Hacks

When my mother had her cleaning business, microfiber cleaning products were not a thing. However, you might want to consider microfiber dusting slippers. Check out those dusting slippers here!

Kitchen Cleaning Hack

To clean out your drain, use 1 cup baking soda, 1 cup vinegar and boiling water. Pour baking soda into the drain, followed by vinegar. Let it bubble for several minutes. Follow up with boiling water. (Dollar Tree is a great place to get inexpensive cleaning supplies. You can create an account, order online and have your items shipped free to your local Dollar Tree store.)

Use Bar Keepers Friend brand cleanser for cleaning stainless steel or porcelain sinks. It is also good for counters.

Be sure to clean the window sill by sink and wash the window using Windex.

Stove Top Cleaning Hack

Have an electric stove top? Did you know you can lift up the top to clean the drip pan and burners? Try it now. Just lift it up.

Microwave Cleaning Hack

Wet a cloth and put it in the microwave for 30 seconds. The rag will be hot so be careful, but use the cloth to clean the microwave out. The moisture will make it easier to clean.

Natural Glass Cleaner Hack

Windex is a popular glass cleaner, however, you can make your own cleaner if you prefer to avoid chemicals. When cleaning windows, you can use your cleaning cloths, paper towels or a squeegee (this works great if you have glass shower doors).

Pro Tip: If you purchase the ingredients to make your own cleaner at your local grocery store, download the Ibotta app to save on name brands and groceries. Ibotta is the No. 1 downloaded app to save at the grocery store. Find bargains and earn cash back when you download the Ibotta app.

Bathroom Cleaning Hack

Clean the mirror first, then move everything off the counter and clean the surface with clorox wipes or comet cleaner. Shine the faucet of the sink. Make sure to get the back of the faucet, an area that is often neglected.

Bathtub Cleaning Hack

Use a crevice cleaner to get into the edges where the tile and tub meet. Use it to help clean out the grout. 

Shower Cleaning Hack

Keep ahead of cleaning by wiping down your shower/bathtub after each time you use it. Use the crevice cleaner to get the edges. Make sure to clean the faucet and knobs, too.

Showerhead Cleaning Hack

Have you noticed your showerhead getting a little crusty? What you are seeing are likely mineral or lime deposits from the water. Watch this video for an easy solution to clean your showerhead and get the water flow back to normal.

Pro Tip: If you love shopping Amazon and have your cleaning products delivered to you at your convenience, then you will want to take advantage of Amazon’s Subscribe & Save program and save 15%.

Toilet Cleaning Hack

Nobody wants to do this, but it is important. 

Work from the back to front and top to bottom of the toilet. Make sure to wipe down the back of the toilet, then the lid, sides, handle and front of the tank. Use Clorox to spray all the areas, including inside and outside of the bowl and seat. Wipe down the porcelain behind the seat. Make sure to get all the little crevices clean, too. 

Inside the bowl you’ll want to clean under the rim first, so the debris can fall into the water. You can use a toilet brush for the bowl, but to get it really clean, using your hands works best for the rim. Flush the toilet and then spray again with the cleaner. Use the toilet brush to clean the bowl as far into the bowl as possible. Then flush the toilet again, rinsing the brush as the water flows. 

Use the toilet cleaner and spray the receptacle for the toilet brush and use the brush to clean out the inside of it. Pour the dirty water into the toilet and flush one last time, again rinsing the brush in the water flow. 

Laundry Hacks

One thing I do is to rub a little Dawn dish detergent whenever my husband gets grease on his shirt. Dawn is great for cutting grease.

Dolores Breese’s Cleaning Starter Kit

Whether you choose to go old school and do a deep clean or just address those areas needing attention, I hope these hacks helped. Here are my mom’s recommendations to build a thorough cleaning kit for spring and every other season:

p.s. If you put together your cleaning kit and discover you really like this kind of stuff, then be like my mom and start your own business.

Save Money On Cleaning Supplies

Earning cash back on cleaning supplies is easy. Check out these money-making machines to earn free money while you shop online and in store. Oh yeah, all of this stuff is free.

[thegreatestofheck]

The Girl with No Heartbeat Pt.6 ⊰JJ Maybank⊱

(gif not mine. credit to kaipurge)

word count - 6.2k  warnings - none other than the fact that it is completely unedited. I hope no one minds synopsis - It’s movie night! Mera and the gang watch the first three Pirates of the Caribbean movies. It’s all fun and games until something is triggered within Mera that sends her spiraling. a/n - So, this has got spoilers for the first three pirates movies, but only slightly, not much. It won’t be too bad if you haven’t seen it, it’s pretty vague. Also, I’m kind of deciding that there will be some love triangle action going on, so yay for that. Also, I’m sorry it took so long for this chapter to happen. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!! 

***

When Mera stepped into the pod the next day, her shoulders sagged and she let out a deep sigh. She had thought that the pod had been full yesterday, yet somehow, overnight, Ward had managed to fill the pod even more. There had already been enough dread of coming back to work as it was, Mera couldn’t believe there was more in this room she would have to clean. 

“As long as he keeps paying me for it,” she grumbled to herself. Just as she started to clamber her way less than delicately through the mass of stuff toward the bathtub with her ammonia filled bag, the door squeaked open. 

“Hey,” Rafe said from behind her. 

“Hello,” she replied as she tiptoed around a dishwasher. 

“Um, how are you?” 

“Fine. You?” 

“Good, good.” 

Mera glanced behind her to see Rafe still standing by the door with a bag in his hand. His lips were pressed into a fine line and he was staring at his shoes. 

“What do you have there?” Mera asked once she reached the tub. Rafe lifted the bag. 

“Oh, I just bought, uh, donuts,” he said. “Thought you might be hungry.” 

“Why would I be hungry?” she laughed, hoisting the bag out of the tub. Rafe rolled and for a moment he looked like that arrogant boy she remembered the first time they met. 

“Those pogues you live with barely have food to feed themselves. I doubt they have the supply to feed you too,” he said. Mera scowled at him even as she lugged her bag back toward him. 

“And you wonder why I punched you in the mouth when we first met,” she scoffed. Rafe scowled at her as she dropped the bag onto the ground. The metal stove tops inside clattered to the ground, but she didn’t flinch as she kept Rafe’s gaze. 

“If you have a lecture for me, save it,” he snapped suddenly, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t lecture, Rafe,” she said and broke eye contact. She leaned down to pick the bag off the ground again. 

“Right, you just hit people you don’t agree with.” 

“No, I hit entitled, arrogant assholes who think they’re better than everyone else because their daddy has money,” she snapped, sending him a hard glare. Rafe’s mouth parted as he thought up something to say, but then he looked away from her, glaring at the ground. “You don’t want a lecture? Fine, you won’t get one from me. But don’t expect to be making friends any time soon if you keep acting like you own the world.”

“Who said I needed friends?” He asked as Mera pushed past him toward the door. Mera rolled her eyes, settling back into a scowl. 

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you keep following me around like a lost kitten,” she said. She stepped outside and started toward the house, looking for a faucet of some kind. 

“I don’t follow you around!” he said as he followed her outside. 

“Admit it. You’re either madly in love with me or you just really, desperately need a friend. I’d prefer the latter.” 

Rafe spluttered for a bit, crossing and uncrossing his arms as he struggled to find something decent to say. Mera found a hose and set the bag down in the grass beside it. 

“You wanna make yourself useful?” Mera snapped. “Find me a bucket or a tub or something I can use.” 

Rafe stormed away and Mera looked down at her trash bag. 

“Hey, Mera!” Someone called from above. She looked up to see Sarah hanging out a window. “How’s it going?” 

“Your brother’s a bilge rat.” 

“I don’t know what that means, but if it’s West Coast for ‘asshole’ then yeah, pretty much” Sarah said. “Anything I can do to help you?” 

Mera shook her head and let out a sigh. 

“No, I don’t think so, Sarah. It’s appreciated though,” Mera said. 

“So, uh, how’s Kiara?” Sarah asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “And the others? Kiara and the others. You know, because you live with them you would know. At least, you live with John B and sometimes JJ so, of course.”

Mera felt herself smile as she tore open the trash bag. She gagged momentarily at the smell of the ammonia, but then she looked back up at Sarah. 

“They’re all good.”

“Good is good. Good is good.” Sarah let out a sigh and Mera’s smile grew. 

“You and Kiara, are you-”

“No!” Sarah said quickly. “God, no. I like men. Men only. Only men. Kiara and I were...friends back in the day.”

“Why aren’t you friends now?”

“Hold on a sec,” Sarah said before leaning back into the house. “Yeah, Dad?”

Mera waited patiently as she heard Ward and Sarah’s muffled voices. 

“Hey, Mera?” Sarah called down from above once again. “I’ve gotta go real quick, but I’ll be back soon and maybe we can chat then, yeah?” 

Mera smiled up and nodded her head. 

“Catch ya later,” the blonde said before ducking back inside. Despite how angry Mera had just been, Sarah had somehow managed to make her smile. That smile faltered when a tub was thrown at her feet. 

“I’m not in love with you,” Rafe said, standing behind Mera. She sighed and lowered her hands.

“I’ll be your friend, Rafe, on one condition,” she said, turning and standing. Rafe almost seemed to flinch at her. “Don’t make jabs at my family.”

Rafe cleared his throat. 

“Right. No more jabs.”

Mera gave her head a stiff nod. 

“Also, one more thing,” she said, holding up a finger. 

“I thought you said only one condition.” 

“This isn’t a condition. Just a favor.”

“I bought you a donut, isn’t that favor enough?”

“Listen, all I need is something to scrub these metal things down with. I’m not asking you to murder anyone or anything,” Mera said, growing slightly more irritated. 

“I think there’s one in the kitchen,” he said finally. Mera raised an eyebrow. 

“You think?” 

Rafe simply rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his face as he walked toward the front of the house. 

~~~

“You may not want to touch me,” Mera said with a laugh, holding her hands out as Kie threw her arms around Mera’s shoulders. “I’m gross.” 

“We’re all gross,” Kie laughed. Mera held up her hands, covered in grime and black muck. Kie grimaced and Mera gave her head a little nod. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Mera started toward the house, Kie strolling along beside her. 

“So, where are the boys?” Mera asked. 

“They’re getting snacks for movie night,” Kie said, a smile on her face. “I’m so excited. We’ve gotta start with the Pirates movies, of course, but I think you’re really gonna like Cinderella, so we’re doing that one next, no matter what JJ says.”

“So, no vampires in Santa Cruz?” 

“No vampires, period. Not until you watch Cinderella, of course.” 

Mera laughed to herself, giving her head a little shake. 

“I was given a movie suggestion today that we should add to the list,” Mera said as she walked into the bathroom. Kie settled herself onto the toilet seat, watching Mera with a wide smile. 

“Sure, what movie?” 

“Pulp Fiction, I think it was called?” Kie rolled her eyes at the suggestion.

“That’s John B’s favorite movie,” she said with a quiet huff. “Who suggested it?” 

“Oh, uh, Sarah.” 

Kie was too immediately frazzled by the mention of Sarah’s name to see the way Mera’s eyes flicked back and forth at her own lie. 

“Why were you talking to Sarah?” Kie asked, a scowl pinching her eyebrows. Mera shrugged, turning on the water and beginning to scrub at her hands. 

“She’s nice to me.” 

“She’s a two faced bitch is what she is,” Kie grumbled, pulling her knees up to her chest and scowling even harder. Mera glanced over and raised an eyebrow. 

“I feel like I am missing a vital piece of information. What happened between the two of you?” Mera continued to scrub at her hands, remembering the way Sarah blushed and stuttered after asking about Kie. There was definitely something going on. 

“She was my best friend.” There was a deep sadness in Kie’s voice that made Mera turn the water down and put more of her attention on her. “We did everything together. She was everything…. But she wasn’t who I thought she was.” 

“What did she do?” Mera tried to remember the way her father used to talk to her when she was upset, how he would lower his voice and reach out to grab her hand to keep her from shaking, how sometimes he would pretend to be distracted with something else so she didn’t feel like she was burdening him with all her troubles. Now, Mera tried to emulate that same feeling for her friend, for Kie. 

Kie scoffed, but her eyes were full of tears. 

“It sounds stupid,” the girl grumbled. Mera was tempted to put a hand on Kie’s shoulder and give her a reassuring squeeze, but her hands were still covered in filth. 

“Your pain is anything but stupid.” 

Kie looked up at Mera, her deep brown eyes still full of tears, but there was a small smile on the girl’s lips. 

“It’s movie night,” Kie said suddenly, straightening her back and blinking away her tears. “There’s no crying on movie night.” 

Mera watched as Kie shoved her feelings back down into the box she kept them in. It was a familiar sight. Mera had seen it in the mirror a million times before. 

“Right. I just have to get this uck off of my hands and then I’ll be ready.” 

~~~

Mera thought that movie night would have been at the Chateau, since it was where they had spent all of their time already. She was surprised when the boys pulled up in the van, the back stocked full of snacks that Mera had never seen before in her lives, but none of the boys got out. 

“You sea lassies ready to go?” JJ asked from the back with a horrible pirate accent, holding the sliding door open with a smile. Mera was caught somewhere between mentioning the accent and asking where exactly they were going. 

“Aren’t we staying?” She asked finally while Kie climbed into the seat beside John B. 

“Kie’s the only one with a TV,” John B said. Mera barely had time to scowl at the unusual name before Pope started to explain it. 

“TV. It’s short for television. It’s like a flat box that displays the movie onto it,” Pope said, popping a red fish-like food into his mouth. JJ offered Mera a hand to help her into the van, which she took even though she really didn’t need to. When she felt her face flush, she pulled her hand from his and settled down across from him, beside Pope, who continued to prattle on about the long and exciting history of television. 

“JJ, hand me the notebook,” Kie said from the front seat. Mera, who had been watching Pope as he talked to her, glanced over at JJ when he didn’t respond to his friend, only to find that his blue eyes were fixed on her. “JJ!” 

The boy startled and seemed to snap back into reality. He pulled a notebook from one of his many pockets and handed it to Kie, not looking at Mera. Instead, he started to fiddle with the ring on his pointer finger. An unholy array of thoughts passed through Mera’s mind before Pope elbowed her lightly in the arm and nodded toward John B. 

“Kie says you’re adding Pulp Fiction to the list?” John B said, looking in the rearview mirror with a large smile. Mera nodded her head. 

“It was recommended.”

“By who?”

“Um, Sarah,” Mera said as she glanced at Kie, who had taken to picking aimlessly at her nails. 

“Sarah Cameron suggested you watch Pulp Fiction?” Pope asked with a tone of disbelief. All Mera could do was smile and nod and pray that they wouldn’t push her any further. Of course Sarah hadn’t recommended Pulp Fiction. Rafe did, but there was no way that Mera was going to tell them that, especially when John B’s smile was so big. 

“What are these?” Mera asked, looking at all the different bags laying in front of her. JJ suddenly reentered the conversation as it turned onto food, a glimmer in his eyes. 

“These are hot cheetos. They didn’t have any takis, so we had to get these. Those over by Pope are Swedish Fish. They’re disgusting-” 

“No they aren’t!” Pope protested, tossing two more of the red fish into his mouth. 

“You’re the only one who likes them. Anyway-” Mera reached over and put her hand in the Swedish fish bag, pulling out one of the oblong candies. Pope nodded his head enthusiastically for her to try it. “We got some Pringles and some Skittles and some chocolates for JB and some gummy worms and some raspberries for Kie.” 

“Really?” Kie turned around in her chair again, a huge smile on her face. “I didn’t think they were in season.” 

“They aren’t but Pope over here wanted to buy some for you anyway,” JJ said with a huff. Mera still held the Swedish Fish in her hand, not sure if she was actually willing to try it. 

“Thanks, Pope,” Kie said, turning her smile to the boy sitting next to Mera. Instead of saying anything to Kie, Pope tried to hide his sheepish smile by turning and talking to Mera. 

“Try it!” He said, motioning for the fish in her hand. “I promise it’s good. JJ just has jacked up taste buds from all the weed he smokes.” 

JJ stuck out his tongue, but the joke was enough motivation for Mera to finally take a bite out of the candy. The outside was almost hard, but the inside was soft and gooey. Mera scowled, unsure of what to make of the sweet flavor at first. 

“See?” JJ said, crossing his arms. “Disgusting.” 

“She hasn’t said anything yet!” Pope protested. 

“It’s all over her face, Poe. She hates it.” 

“It’s actually not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten,” Mera said once she had chewed enough to swallow, which felt like forever. 

“See?” Pope sneered at his blond friend in a mocking tone. 

“She said not the worst, which doesn’t mean it’s any good.” 

“Well,” Mera said with a smile. “When you’ve eaten gull legs, gruel, and barnacles, there isn’t a lot that doesn’t taste good.” 

“There, Pope, you happy?” Kie said from the front, her leg propped up on the dash. “Swedish Fish aren’t as disgusting as seagull legs.” 

Pope scowled and threw another fish in his mouth as Mera chewed quietly on her own. Mera sat back and let them all talk to each other, passing insults and jokes that Mera didn’t quite understand. But she laughed anyway because one day she would understand and one day those jokes would be funny to her too. 

She wasn’t sure what she expected Kie’s house to be like, but the grandiose mansion was not it. For a moment, she felt her heart plummet. But when she glanced over at Kie and saw the same look of disappointment, Mera felt a warm feeling return. 

“Your parents know we’re coming, right Kie?” Pope asked as he looked up at the large, white house, carrying a bag of snacks in his arms. 

“Of course they do,” Kie said with a roll of her eyes. “Why wouldn’t they?” 

“Because last time you didn’t tell them,” JJ said. “And we got a nearly three hour lecture.”

“Right. Well, I did tell them this time.” Kie turned to Mera. “And they are so excited to meet you.” 

Kie’s mom wasn’t there when the five showed up, but her dad was more than happy to welcome them inside. 

“Hey, Big Mike!” JJ said as they all walked inside, Kie taking the lead. Mike, Kie’s dad, did not seem impressed by JJ or his toothy grin. Pope shook his hand, which made Mr. Carrera almost smile, but he ignored John B completely. 

“You must be Mera,” Mike said when he finally came to her. Mera forced herself to smile and she nodded. She shook his outstretched hand. 

“That I am.” 

“And you’re…John B’s cousin?” Mike looked between Mera and John B for a few moments, eyebrow raised just like his daughter did. 

“Why does no one believe that she’s my cousin?” John B grumbled, crossing his arms. Mera simply laughed. 

“Yes. He’s my cousin.” 

“Well, I’m glad to finally meet you. You’re always welcome here,” he said, still smiling. 

“I didn’t get an always welcome invite,” said JJ, to which Kie rolled her eyes. 

“There’s a very good reason for that, JJ.” 

~~~

There was only mild interrogation before Mike decided it was okay to leave them alone and lock himself away in his room. With the lights shut off, the popcorn popped, and candies in a wild array around them, all five teens wrapped themselves in blankets and settled down in front of the TV. 

It took some getting used to for Mera. A lot of getting used to. At first, the lights from the screen hurt her eyes and the music was so loud. But by the time the movie actually started, she stopped cringing. Mera was settled near the edge of the couch between Kie and Pope so she could steal Swedish Fish from his bag but still reach the popcorn (which, she discovered, was heaven sent. Way better than gull feet). 

She let her mind stop wondering how hard it must have been to invent the thing before, stop trying to figure out how it worked, stop lamenting over her lost centuries, and let herself just enjoy the movie placed before her. 

It was part romance, part sea-faring adventure. Inaccurate as it was, Mera found herself enjoying it. She laughed with the jokes, shoved her face full of popcorn when things got tense, and exclaimed more than once about how cool Jack Sparrow was. 

“Just wait till the next movies,” Kie gushed. “You’ll love them all even more.” 

There was no question as to whether they would put in the next movie. In the brief time it took Kie to slide out of her spot and put the next disk in, the boys were berating Mera with questions. 

“How accurate was it?” 

“Did you like it?” 

“Did you notice when-” 

“Did you ever meet Jack Sparrow?” 

“Jack Sparrow’s fake, you idiot.” 

“I’m pretty sure it was Captain Jack Sparrow.” 

“Right, right.” 

The second movie started and everyone went silent. Again, Mera was enthralled. There was no turning her head from the screen. If someone even opened their mouth to speak, she was shushing them instantly. She didn’t want to miss a single second. 

By half way through the third movie, Kie had fallen asleep on Mera’s shoulder. Pope didn’t last much longer before he too fell asleep, his empty bag of Swedish Fish fallen on the floor. John B stayed awake until the big battle started. Mera had no idea how he slept through all the cannon fire. She flinched almost every time one went off and every time, Kie would squeeze her hand in her sleep. 

“He’s not dead,” Mera whispered into the darkness, the first time she had spoken since the post-second movie interrogation. She looked across the couch toward JJ, who was the only one left awake. He was shocked to see the light of the television illuminated the glimmer of a tear on her face. “He can’t be.” 

JJ wished he was closer, just so he could reassure her that everything would be alright. Even though her worries were relieved just seconds later, he couldn’t help but wish he was closer. He barely looked back at the screen the entire rest of the movie, watching the way her eyes lit up near the end with the scene at the beach, watching the way another tear slid down her cheek at the painful departure of the two lovers. He watched her smile at the final scenes with Jack and Barbossa and Gibbs, watched as her mouth fell open with shock when the credits started to roll. 

“There’s a little scene at the end,” JJ whispered to her. She finally looked over at him and nodded, trusting that he was telling the truth. She read through all of the names, mentally thanking everyone of them for their contribution until, just like JJ said, there was a small scene at the end. 

It was simple and it was short, but by the end of it, Mera had more than one tear rolling from her eyes. The movie ended completely and JJ shut the TV off, but Mera still stared at the now blank screen. 

“What did you think?” He asked, giving her a few moments to process. At first, all she could do was nod her head. 

“That was….” Mera let out a long sigh as she struggled to find the word that suited it best. “Epic.” 

“You really liked it?” 

At the near giddiness in JJ’s voice, Mera finally tore her eyes from the screen to look at him and nod. 

“I’ll probably have to watch it a million more times.” 

“We have to watch Lost Boys first,” JJ said, slouching down farther in his chair. “And Interview With a Vampire.” 

Mera laughed quietly and Kie stirred beside her, groaning quietly in her sleep. 

“Kie said that we have to watch Cinderella first,” Mera told JJ as she looked down at the sleeping girl. JJ made a fake vomiting sound. 

“That’s a princess movie,” he said with a disgusted look on his face.

“So?”

“Princesses are for girl’s, Mera!” 

“From my experience,” Mera told him, crossing her arms gently. “Boys have been more infatuated with princesses than any other breed since the title was even thought up. More boys would give their right arm and leg to marry a princess than, say, a pirate.” 

“I’d marry a pirate,” JJ said confidently. Mera felt her face grow hot and she was suddenly grateful for the darkness to cover her. “I, uh, I just mean that not every guy is looking for a princess to fall in love with. That’s all.” 

“Right, of course.” 

The mood fell flat. JJ cleared his throat twice like he was going to say something else, but never did. Eventually, Mera gave up on the awkward silence. 

“Goodnight, JJ,” she said suddenly. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Night, Mera.” 

They fell silent again. Mera tried to squeeze her eyes shut and pray for sleep, but her mind was still racing at a thousand miles a minute. Not only were the movie scenes still bouncing around her head, but she was actively trying to convince herself that JJ hadn’t just said he would marry a pirate...in the presence of a literal pirate. 

Of course he didn’t mean me, she thought to herself. I’m not really a pirate anymore, now am I? 

Mera didn’t realize that the movie scenes in her mindseye had shifted from what she had actually seen on the television, to something more fantastical until she was already asleep. Fiction morphed with reality until she was back on the sea once more, the taste of salt in the air as sea mist sprayed through the air. 

She was on top of the Black Pearl, with two captains at the helm. At first, she thought it was Jack and Barbossa, like it was in the movies, but when they both turned around, she realized that they were strangers. She didn’t recognize their faces because their features were blurred beyond comprehension. Despite not knowing what they looked like, Mera felt like she...knew them both. 

Two captains of one ship. She couldn’t tell who they were, but the feeling of familiarity was too real to pass up. 

And then things got even weirder. 

She heard her father call her name, but it wasn’t the name she was used to hearing from his lips. 

“Mera,” he whispered to her from somewhere behind. When she turned, he wasn’t there. “Mera.” 

From behind again. She spun, this time hoping to catch him standing there, but there was nothing but the sea mist. She scowled, confused as the two captains shouted contradictory orders. The boat tugged and it pulled, trying to obey the commands of both of her captains at once. 

“Mera!” This was a different voice. The voice of a song, but strict and stern. This time, when Mera turned, she found herself standing face to face with her siren sister, Ira. Her deep brown skin glittered in the sunlight as water dripped down her nude body. Her lips were pursed, expertly covering the fangs that hid beneath. Her brown eyes sparkled, but in every way that made Mera shiver. 

“You left us,” Ira hissed. Mera heard her words inside her head, but her mouth did not move. “You abandoned your own family.” 

“No.” Mera shook her head and took a step backward. 

“Yes, Mera.” 

“Mera!” A third voice called. Mera spun around and the ship changed. No longer was she on the Black Pearl with it’s two captains, but she was back on the Iron Anchor, her mother standing by the stern. Ira was gone. 

“Mera!” Her mother cried out. “Look out!” 

Mera spun around, ducking under the swing of a sword with milliseconds to spare. As she stumbled backward, still wearing the pajamas Kie had leant her, Mera realized what was happening. 

Cannon fire echoed through the air, the smell of sea salt air replaced by gunpowder and burning wood. The mast of the Anchor lay toppled over, creating a wonderful walkway for the British ship that bobbed a few yards beside them. They were being attacked. 

She fell back into the flow of fighting almost instantly. Without any protection and no weapon, Mera needed to think smart. She ducked and evaded until she could get a clean shot at a gut or the groin, waiting for the right moment to grab a weapon. 

“Mera!” Her mother’s voice called again, but from much closer. There was no time to look for her though. All Mera could do was fight to stay alive. It suddenly felt as if Mera was the only one left fighting the British, that they were all ganging up on her and she was nearly defenseless to stop them. 

“Mera,” her mother said from somewhere that she couldn’t see. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t left me.”

“I’m right here, Mother,” Mera said, grinding her teeth as she fought to keep the sword of her opponent from running her through. 

“You left us.” Her mother’s voice was weepy. “I lost your father and then I lost you. I am so alone.” 

“No!” Mera cried, shoving her opponent off of her and into another British soldier. “I’m right here.” 

She heard her mother scream, the same ear splitting cry Mera had heard the day her father had been run through. Turning slowly to face the other side of the boat, Mera saw the Commander of the British ship holding a sword that was deep in Amarylis Briarheart’s gut. The same Commander that had killed her father.

“No!” Mera screamed. She ran across the suddenly empty deck, with no opposition in her path. She didn’t hesitate to grab the Commander and pull him away from her mother. They fought, just as they had done once long, long before. And just like before, the Commander sunk his sword into Mera’s side. For half a second, she felt the sting of metal tear through her flesh, and then she just felt numb. Clenching her jaw, Mera didn’t even look back at her dying mother before wrapping her arms around the Commander’s neck and leaning over the edge of the boat, toppling down deep, deep into the darkness below. 

“Mera,” a voice whispered like a lullaby. She wasn’t sure if it was Ira or her mother or Kie, but the voice was quiet and calm, like a wave lapping against a quiet shore. 

“Mera.” 

The ocean was cold and it was dark, but Mera could barely feel anything. She recognized the numbness. It faded quickly as her lungs began to burn and the salt of the water began to stab at her wound. 

And Mera waited. She waited for Ira to come like she did before. She waited for the offer that she would accept so she wouldn’t have to die. But Ira never came. 

“You took immortality from me once,” Ira’s voice said, though she was nowhere to be seen. “And you gave it up for some boy!” 

“He didn’t deserve to die,” Mera replied. 

“Maybe not.” There was a pause. “Then again, maybe you did.” 

In one swift motion, Mera felt something tug harshly against her neck, dragging her down, down, down, away from the light of the sun and into the depths of the sea. Mera screamed, or she tried to, at least. One arm around her neck became a dozen hands across her entire body, pulling at her flesh, tearing out her hair, yanking her down to the sea floor. 

“You have blood on your hands,” an unfamiliar voice boomed throughout the ocean. “It’s time for you to pay for it, Mera.” 

Her screams never stopped as the sirens she once called her brothers and sisters tore into her skin as she had done so many times, shrieking her new name as they did so as if it was an insult on their lips. 

“Mera! Mera!” They cried. 

“Mera!” The booming voice echoed. 

“Mera!” Ira hissed in her ear. 

“Mera!” Her mother shrieked for her as she fell over the side of the boat. 

“Mera!” Her dad breathed as he died. 

“Mera!” the two mysterious captains yelled, both vying for her attention. 

“Mera!” 

With a gasp, she shot upward, her eyes snapping open. 

“Mera, are you okay?” Mike Carrera knelt in front of her, holding her wrists in his strong grip. Beside him sat Kie, eyes full of worry and fear. She looked around. To Pope, who was sitting next to her still, a hand on her shoulder. To John B, who was standing behind Mike and Kie with a fist pressed to his lips. To JJ, who sat on his knees beside her, fear etched into every feature. 

“What…?” She gasped for breath, noticing how hoarse her voice was. “What happened?” 

“You were screaming,” Kie told her quietly. “And shaking.”

“It must have been a nightmare,” Mike said, dropping his hands from her wrist back to his side. Once his grip was gone from her, Mera realized how badly she was shaking. Sweat beaded down her neck and spine, her muscles refused to relax as she tried not to look at the worried faces that surrounded her. 

“Yeah,” Mera murmured. “A nightmare.” 

“Are you okay?” Pope asked, his hand not leaving her shoulder despite how damp it was. Mera nodded her head slowly, not really trusting herself to speak. 

“I’ll get you some water,” John B said. Mera didn’t even have the strength to thank him. 

“Why don’t you sleep in my bed?” Kie asked, leaning forward and putting a hand on Mera’s knee. She just shook her head. 

“I would rather stay out here,” she said. “If that’s okay with you guys.” 

She glanced at Pope and JJ, almost worried they would kick her out for waking them up. 

“Of course that’s okay,” Pope said and gave her his best reassuring smile. John B returned with a cup of water that Mera took with trembling hands. 

“K, can I talk to you?” Mike asked, pushing himself to his feet. Kie nodded, following after him once she had given Mera’s hand a tight squeeze. 

“Here,” John B said, “We can sleep on the floor. You and Kie take the couch. It will be more comfortable that way.” 

Mera couldn’t find the strength to protest. Pope and JJ almost silently moved off of the couch, dragging their blankets and pillows with them onto the floor. She flattened herself just as quietly, straining to her ears to hear what Mike and Kie were talking about. Being a siren had left her with three unchanged physical characteristics; the unnaturally sea green eyes, an unbeating heart, and ears that were very tuned in for hushed conversations. This was one of the rare moments that Mera was grateful for it. 

“...anything happen at home?” Mike asked Kie. 

“Not...not that I know of. She’s had a tough life, though,” Kie replied. Mera felt the all too familiar weight of embarrassment press down against her. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the holes of this far too comfortable couch and stay there forever. 

“I might not know much, but I know those kinds of nightmares aren’t good for a kid,” Mike said. Mera could imagine him with his hands on his hips, a concerned dad look on his face. In the brief moments Mera had met him, he almost reminded her of her own father. It made her sad. 

“She’ll be fine, Dad,” Kie said. The confidence in her voice gave Mera a little bit of hope. 

“You don’t need to fix her, K.” These words were spoken even quieter than the other ones. The silence was deafening. “I know you want to fix that boy and you can’t, but that doesn’t mean you should take on another charity case.” 

“That’s not what this is, Dad!” Kie’s anger was evident even through her hushed tone. “JJ and Mera don’t need to be fixed. They’re not broken. They’re people who are hurt and they just need something stable and safe.” 

“And that has to be you?” 

“Not necessarily.” 

“But it is.” Kie was silent. “Look, baby, I know why you want to help them, but you have to take care of yourself too. They have to take care of you too.” 

“They do! I-”

Mera couldn’t stand to listen to any more. She rolled off the couch and tiptoed toward the sliding glass door that led to an outdoor patio. She didn’t even care to look and see if the boys were asleep yet. 

The fresh air felt good against her hot face and skin. Out in the open, she felt like she could breathe again. Lifting her head and she breathed deeply through her nose, Mera looked out toward the horizon, gazing at the glittering ocean set before her. The moon shone bright in the sky, reflecting off of the surface of the water. The stars twinkled above and shimmered below. If Mera could look past the trees and the buildings and the streetlamps, she could almost convince herself that she was back on the sea, with the wind in her hair, and the smell of the salt covering the musk of the men. 

But her moment of bliss was interrupted by the ever present ocean call. Her brothers and sisters sang to her from under the wave, luring her back to the water so she could pay the price for her sins. She had gotten a taste of what that might look like tonight in her dream and the thought scared her more than anything. The lullaby made her knees weak and she felt her breath go ragged again. It was too hot to go back inside, but she couldn’t stand being out here much longer. 

Luckily, her break came when the sliding glass door opened again. 

“Hey.” 

It was JJ. 

Mera brushed away a stray tear or two that managed to squeeze it’s way out of her eyes before half turning her head toward him. 

“Hey.” 

He walked forward, joining her at the railing. He leaned up against it just like she did, looking out over the water. For a moment he was silent and she wasn’t sure he was going to say anything else. His presence was enough to drown out the siren call a little, but she knew that if he spoke, she wouldn’t be able to hear it at all. She just wanted to be rid of it. 

“What were you dreaming about?” He asked finally. 

“Nothing pleasant,” she told him with a sigh. 

“Mmm.” He looked down at his hands. “We triggered something, didn’t we? Watching those movies?”

Mera shrugged her shoulders. It was possible. Probable, actually. But she had enjoyed herself. It was fun, until she fell asleep. 

“We’ll take a break from pirates and the undead for our next movie night,” JJ told her. “We’ll watch Cinderella.” 

Mera felt herself smile. 

“That sounds good to me.” 

When she looked over at JJ and saw the deep blue of the sea in his eyes, she felt the ocean call once again. But this was different. This wasn’t luring her to her death, but pulling her closer to something else, to him. And it wasn’t just a quiet song in the back of her mind. It was a roaring choir, a thousand times louder and a thousand times stronger. 

And a thousand times harder to resist.

~~~

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[mariamermaid]

The bathtub key

Tyler Locke x Reader

Summary: After weeks of flirting with you, Tyler is just about to give up, when a mysterious night involving your key necklace changes everything….

Words: 2.7k

A/N: based of an anonym request with the prompts 20. “Where is my Kiss”, 24. “You have something in your hair”, and 50. “If you could only see how wonderful you look right now”

 You groaned as Tyler ran after you on your way to school. “We had a bet, Y/N!” He yelled until he finally caught up to you. You carried your books with both of your hands and threw an annoyed glance at him. However, he wasn´t wrong; you did have bet. Tyler had been after you since the day he first saw you in school. You weren´t easy to get, everybody knew it. Javier and Brinker had even warned him, but Tyler wasn´t going to give up anytime soon. He didn´t know why you tried so hard to distance yourself from him and you hadn´t given him an explanation either. But he felt this mysterious pull towards you. He didn´t know about the necklace around your neck, didn´t know about the key that was dangling on it…

“Where is my kiss?” You let out a sigh, and stopped. It was hopeless and you knew you had lost. He had won the last hockey game and you had bet that he wouldn´t make one shot. There was nothing you hated more than admitting you were wrong. But you were. Stopping in front of the school building and pulling him by his arm, you ended up near to a few protecting trees. A somewhat safe place to give him his price. “Fine.”

Before Tyler could realize what was happening, you leaned on your tip-toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. Then you turned on your heels and finally made your way into the school, a satisfied grin on your lips. At your locker, Tyler was again next to. “That wasn´t a real kiss.” You shrugged. “You never explicitly said where to kiss you”, you explained and his jaw fell open. Devilishly grinning you threw your hair back. “Also, you hadn´t stated by whom the kiss should be, so at least be grateful that it was me, and not my dog.”

Tyler was left in the clearing school hall. After weeks of watching and trying to analyze you, you continued to be a riddle. There was obvious chemistry between the two of you, but why on earth, didn´t you go on a date with him?

It wasn´t until a week later, another party at Javier´s place was hosted, when Tyler was about to find out. When you entered the room, it had been late already and Tyler had been drinking. First, he started to get into the mood, but after two hours he had lost hope. He thought you wouldn´t come and continued drowning his disappointment. But then you did and all he could do, was stumbling to you. You saw him coming, it was really hard not to see him. A good amount of almost falling over, stumbling against several people and leaning against the kitchen counter was deeply needed.

“Hey Y/nnnnnn”, he lisped.  He eyed you in your high waisted jeans and the glitter top. You took the cup out of his hand. “I think you had enough”, you added, but then decided to sip yourself. He chuckled when you squinted your eyes at the bitter taste. “Tyler, that´s strong”, you admitted and he grinned somewhat proudly. “I thought you wouldn´t come”, he then admitted a little quieter. You shrugged, avoiding his waiting glance. “I wasn´t planning on it, Christina dragged me here.” He continued to eye you obviously, but that might have been the alcohol in his veins. Out of nowhere he spoke up again. “Are you okay?” You looked up and forced a smile. “Yeah, just stress from home.” Tyler wanted to continue to ask, but he was suddenly pulled away from Brinker, a new round of beer pong was beginning. When he turned back, the place where you had just leaned, was empty.

Two, or had it been three rounds? Nevertheless, Tyler lost track of time and his condition was not improving either. He had lost the beer pong, his mind was still settled on you and he couldn´t think straight. It was already after three in the morning, when this sudden urge ran over him. With all balance that was left in his body, Tyler stumbled to the toilet. He fell on his knees and immediately threw up. You were alarmed by the noise and followed the choking sound. The sight wasn´t pretty, Tyler half passed out, hanging onto the toilet bowl. It hurt you to see him that way and the feeling of guilt laid like a burden on you. You bend down to him and offered a glass of water. “Hey Ty, drink this.” Even in his state, his eyes lit up when seeing you. It hurt even more. He wanted to take the glass, but his hands were still shaking. So, you knelled down next to him and help to guide the glass to his lips. He drank the entire glass in one go and with some toilet paper, you cleaned the edges of his mouth. “You should go home, is your mom picking you up?” Tyler shook his head and mindlessly pulled out the car keys. “You want to drive home? Not in that state!” “But-“ “You´re too drunk!” You argued and took the keys from his hand. Then you took his arm and pulled Tyler back on his feet. “C´mon, I´ll drive.”

It should be mentioned that it took all of  your efforts, to rather pull Tyler into the car, fasten his seatbelt (he constantly wanted to hug you), drive him home in the middle of the night with the street to Key House barely enlightened and as quietly as somehow possibly, bring him upstairs to his room. In the meantime, you had pressured Tyler to drink some more water and while he almost fell asleep on the ride to his house, he seemed to be much better now.

“I smell like shit”, he admitted when sitting down on the bed and you chuckled lowly. “No need to tell me, I sat next to you.” He starred at you and started smiling as well. “Thanks.” “Don´t worry, it´s what friends do.” He shook his head and walked over to you. “Do you see Javier or Brinker here?” He wasn´t wrong, when you were leaving, they were both flirting with random girls. Tyler furrowed his eyebrows and his hand reached up to your hair. “There is something in your hair”, he added explaining and pulled out a confetto. However, in the process some of your strands were pulled back and his eyes landed on the necklace around your neck. The necklace you always wore, but Tyler had never seen what was on the necklace. It must have escaped from your shirt when you pulled him in the car or something, but the old key was now in the open…

Tyler stumbled back and his hands went through his already messy hair. “What key is that?” He asked and you saw the angst in his eyes. “It´s nothing, I swear”, you tried persuading him, but Tyler knew what a key like this meant. And by your way of hiding it, he knew that you weren´t as unaware as you might seemed.

“What do you know about this house?” He asked you again, jumping off the bed and taking a few steps to you. He sounded dead serious and a weird mixture of worry and tension laid in his eyes. You sighed, knowing it was now useless. He had seen the key; you had no other options left than telling him. “Not much…” You admitted quietly. “My grandfather gave it to me, he began to tell me all those stories about key house when I was just a little kid.”

You knew the story wasn´t particularly short and the slight ache that was dragging along, pulled you down by your shoulders. You sat down on the bed, Tyler did as well and remained patient listening. “I was a child, I believed in Santa Claus, so why not in a house with magical keys? However, when I turned nine, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s…”

You paused, trying to control your shaking voice. “It was really bad in the beginning, because he realized that he was forgetting things and there is no cure. The day came, where we had to bring him into a retirement home, it was also the day he gave me the key. I hadn´t forgotten about the stories, but I was almost eleven at that point and I didn´t believe like I used to. When we came to visit him and I was alone with him, there were those small moments, where he came back and began rambling about this house again… I didn´t know what to believe.”

“And then…” “Then I came, didn´t I?” Tyler spoke up and for the first time since talking, you actually looked directly at him, nodding. He cleared his voice after minutes of silence passing. “Do you think he will remember? If we´d ask him about key house?”

“Tyler… He died a few months ago.”

Tyler sighed and started walking up and down in the room. Meanwhile, you took off the key from around your neck. “I guess yours… Do you… Do you know what it does?” He took it carefully and eyed it. The key was golden, in a much better state than the other keys he and his siblings had found. The connecting part, also called the forging die, had a small star… Actually, it was starfish. The bow was carefully formed into what seemed a wave. The front part, the bit, had small detailed golden bars, that formed into a crisscross. Tyler stopped abruptly, he remembered now where he had seen a fitting hole. “Follow me, be quiet.” “Tyler, what-“

He opened the door from his room and let the light outside stay off. You didn´t have a chance to question and followed him down the hall. Finally, a few feet in front of you, he turned on a light again. It was the bathroom. After you entered, he closed the door and locked it. You turned around to get a better look and your eyes stopped at the bathtub. It was a off-white tub, with typical golden feet and a golden tab. You wanted to step closer, but Tyler´s hand grabbed your arm. “Before we do this, you have to promise me; don´t tell anybody. Not your friends, or parents and if my siblings ask, you don´t know anything, okay?” You nodded quick witted. “I promise.”

Then you stepped aside so Tyler could go first, the key in his hand. He leaned down to the tab of the bathtub. “I had seen it somewhere, when I helped looking for my sisters earring.” He started explaining and you shifted to closer as well. To get a better look, Tyler stepped inside the tub, still in socks, until he found the keyhole again. “Here, I found it!” Carefully, the keyhole was placed under the tab, which made it hard to even notice, he put the key in. Tyler leaned back, waiting and for several seconds, absolutely nothing happened. Then, suddenly, water started running. “What is happening?” You asked slightly worried. Tyler shrugged and wanted to turn off the tab, but it wasn´t even on. The water continued running, with a very high speed and his socks were quickly wet. Within seconds, the water was up to his calves. “Tyler!” You exclaimed, clearly alarmed by now. “Don´t!” He gestured for you not to come closer. “It feels like…”

“Like what, Tyler?” “The floor, it´s vanishing…” “WHAT?”

Just after Tyler had said the words, his body completely dropped into the water. He didn´t fall, the tub wasn´t as deep, he was just gone. You immediately fell on you knees next to the tub and grasped in it, hoping to catch anything from him. But even leaning over the edge, your hands didn´t reach a floor. The running water stopped as abruptly as it had begun, the water now at the rim of the tub. “Tyler?” You asked carefully. No answer.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed. “What do I do?” You jumped off the floor and looked around the bathroom. Wake his sister? You didn´t know where Kinsey´s room was and if Tyler didn´t know what the key could do, how could she? Behind the bathroom door, next to the shower was a toolbox. You quickly started searching, and somehow, luck was on your side; you found a rope.

“Okay, Y/n, calm down, you can do this.” You tried to calm yourself down, as you took off your shoes and tied the one end around your waist and the other against the heater. Then you sat down at the edge of the tub, your feet dangling in the water. Taking a last deep breath, you let yourself fall into the water. Within the first second, you lost track. It felt like a strong undertow, that pulled you deeper in. Then finally, you were able to see again. And what stunned you, was even hard to put in words…

A beautiful underwater landscape with corals and the soft movement of seaweed. A few fish swam in the back, their scales reflecting in a light coming from above. The corals that were spread across the stone slopes were in pastel colors, while some animals made their way through the labyrinth. The water had a comfortable temperature and reminded you of the ocean close to the equator; warm and turquoise. You didn´t know where the light was coming from, were you in the ocean? But then something even weirder hit you; you could see everything crystal clear. It wasn´t like the times when you were a child in the pool and pretended to be a mermaid, you could actually see underwater. Out of reflex, a gasp escaped from your mouth, and while you watched the air bubbles float up; it hit you once again. You could breath. It all felt like a fairytale and you were the little mermaid.

Then, a little more away, you made out a figure. You could breath, but when wanting to call out Tyler´s name, only bubbles came out of your mouth. You glanced back, following the rope with your eyes. It ended in a dark hole within a stone slope, looking like a cave. Carefully you pulled, checking how much rope you had left. Beginning to move your body, you started swimming towards Tyler. Just like you, he floated in the middle of the breath-taking scenery, not realizing how you came closer. Not completely planning your plan of approaching, you arrived with way too much speed. Not wanting to miss him however, you grabbed his shoulder and the two of your started spinning. Surprised to see you, Tyler grinned widely. The hug was first slightly awkward, but then, when the spinning slowed down and your arms remained on his shoulders, you both couldn´t help but just smile at each other. Tyler noticed the rope around your waist, in which you were both now tangled up. Tyler´s smile faded when he looked towards the cave, where the two of you had come from. You nodded sadly. It was safer to leave for now. Still admiring the landscape, which seemed like sculpted by Poseidon himself, you followed the trail. First, Tyler swam through the cave, and after waiting a few seconds, you followed.

The pull you had felt previously, made you end up in the bathtub again. Gasping now for air, you found yourself in Tyler´s arms. He sat in the bathtub, back against the tub and the rope still tangled around the two of you. The floor of the bathtub had suddenly appeared again, only the water that was filled before, was still there. Your face was only inches away from Tyler´s, you both starred at each other, not believing what just happened.

“If you could only see how wonderful you look right now”, Tyler breathed. 

In that night had happened so much, it ended with you leaning for and kissing Tyler. You remembered how Tyler kissed you back, how you dried off and he lending you a sweater from him. You remembered not driving back, instead sleeping cuddled together with Tyler, your hair still smelling like ocean water. And when you woke up the next morning, it all seemed like a dream. But Tyler was still next to you, the key around his neck.

-------

tags: @hahaboop @ delicatetriumphkitty 

[paper-stars-and-fireflies]

Tell me, should I let you go?

Tags: RadioDust, Trans!Angel Warnings: Drug Use, Addiction Fic was inspired by the song Sober by Bad Wolves. Listen while you read!      Angel Dust woke up in his bathtub, again. His neck hurt from being bent forward overnight, and his back and joints all ached from the cramped spaces and unnatural angles. At least the cool tile felt nice. Dizziness washed over him as he tipped his head back, trying to right his world, and soon after he was scrambling for the toilet, dry heaves wracking his frame. He spit, if just to relieve the nausea, and settled back against the wall, one arm feebly reaching for the vanity. There was a snuffling and scraping sound and all of a sudden Angel’s lap was full of pig, his pet bounding back and forth across him, desperate for attention.

    “Be easy on daddy, now,” Angel moaned, scooping up the pig and cradling him. The nausea was ebbing slightly, but not enough. He turned his head, coughing and hacking into the toilet again. Just holding Fat Nuggets felt like too much, but Angel managed to claw and stumble his way to his feet. His reflection looked worse than he felt, mascara and eyeliner dripping down his cheeks and his eyes red around the edges. His throat felt scratchy and a fresh wave of dizziness had him stumbling forward into the sink.     “Saint’s sake, am I still drunk?” he mumbled, fumbling for his toothbrush. His mouth tasted like sugar and stomach acid, and it took him twice as long to get himself looking presentable, crumbled clothes aside. The dizziness and nausea had more or less left him to fester, but the lights felt too bright and a migraine had settled behind his left eye. He matched his steps to the slow pulse of his head, wobbling around his room as he unceremoniously stripped out of yesterday’s clothes and pulled on a fresh shirt and shorts. He had no plans to go out, so he didn’t bother getting too dolled up. He checked his phone, but there were no messages, not from work, not from his family, not even from Alastor. Probably for the best, even though he was craving a few sweet words this morning. Better to lay low and not let anyone realize how he was. There were empty bottles and plastic cups, and evidence of the fun that was wreaking so much havoc on him this morning scattered around the room. He cleaned it all up, burying it in his trash so no one would find it later. He should feel ashamed, maybe, drinking, smoking, maybe even popping a pill or two, but it wasn’t such a big deal. Just a couple drinks, a smoke, a couple pills. No one had to know, and he’d been so good. They had to give him that.     This was just one of those, whaddaya call’em? Cheat days. It was just a lil treat. One time thing. He placated himself, shoving off the bits of shame and regret crawling under his skin. Angel settled into his bed, Fat Nuggets happily curled up against him, grumbling as he thumbed through the TV channels. It made his head hurt that much more, but frankly he’d take that over the silence, in the room or in his head. He scratched idly at the inside of his arm, only glancing down when he realized he’d picked at a scab. A very new one.     He swore, tearing tissues out of their box, knocking over everything else on the nightstand. Angel dabbed at the tiny wound, peering closer. It was definitely a needle mark, and not the only one. He yanked down on the sleeve of his shirt, casting furtive glances around his room. It was fine, it was okay. It would be gone in a couple hours, a day top. It was tiny. No one had to know he hadn’t just fallen off the wagon, that he’d jumped headfirst. It was fine. He just had to stay home, lay low one day, be extra careful from here on. He crouched by the bed, picking up the things he’d knocked over. A couple framed pictures of his friends, another of him and Alastor dressed up in silly Valentine’s themed costumes. They’d thrown a party back in February for his six months sober celebration. There was a lopsided stuffed deer, a prize Al had won for him at Hell’s carnival, back on one of their early dates. When Fat Nuggets had torn it up one night, Al had hushed him, stitching it up and adding a few personal touches, showing him anything could be repaired. He set everything back up neatly. No biggie. This was something else that could be fixed. No big deal. Definitely not, until there was a knock at his door.     “Angel? You okay?” Charlie’s innocent voice was the last thing he wanted to hear, but he heaved himself onto his feet and stumbled to the door as fast as he could manage, leaning against it to hold it shut.     “Just peachy, dollface. Ya need something?” he called through the door, making sure all the locks were on. He pushed the chain lock all the way across, quieting the metal with his fingertips.     “You’re late for your check-in session, I was making sure you were up.”     “Check-in?”     “Did you forget? Today’s the 5th, you were supposed to meet me downstairs an hour ago.” Charlie’s voice was picking up a suspicious edge he didn’t like. Of course today would be a check in. How had he forgotten that? He was so careful, making sure he’d clear his appointments so he could live pretty freely under the radar.     “Sorry doll, I, uh, just over-slept. Stayed up too late….watching too many movies!” He bit at his lip, not buying his own excuses. Clearly, she wasn’t either.     “Angel, let me in. I want to make sure you’re okay.” She insisted. Angel huffed, putting on his usual demeanor. It wasn’t like he didn’t have practice faking it.     The door swung open abruptly, revealing Angel in his t-shirt and sports shorts, a button down shirt only partially blocking out the pride pun printed on his shirt in pastel colors. The sleeves hung down to half-way down his forearms, carefully folded. Charlie studied him, suspicion and confusion warring across her face.     “Something wrong, doll? I was in the middle a somethin.” He tried to hurry her along, one arm braced against the door frame. The injured arm was tucked against his back, the elbow carefully hidden with the cuff.     “I’ve just never seen you dressed like that.” Charlie finally admitted, staring at his chest. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if the shirt looked wrong on him. Finally, she smiled, pointing at it. “I like your shirt. It’s good to cope through positive humor.” Angel glanced down. ‘The first gender’s free,’ the pink text read. ‘Too bad I needed a refund’, the white and blue text finished. He laughed with her, but it felt stuck in his throat. He could feel sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.     “So look, can we reschedule the uh, check-in, doll?” He tried to keep his voice steady, his smile wide. Charlie waved one hand, still giggling.     “Sure, sure,” she called, turning away. “I’ll see you after lunch then, my office. Bye Angel!”     Oh sugar honey. Angel bit his lip, keeping his internal screams to himself, willing himself to shut the door calmly and muffle his impending break-down in a pillow.     By two in the afternoon, Angel had scrubbed himself head to toe, made sure his makeup was flawless, perfumed, eaten, drank, anything and everything to beat back last night’s demons and act the part of the perfectly adapted, normal, and completely clean Angel Dust he’d been becoming the last eight or so months. ‘Just one quick meeting, no big deal,’ he kept reminding himself. He sauntered into Charlie’s office, plopping down into the chair opposite her desk, checking his nails to keep up his bored act. The marks on his arm were all but gone now, but there were still a few nagging symptoms of a come down he hadn’t quite chased off yet. Charlie shut the door behind him, part of her pledge to privacy, and sat across from him, separated by a massive wood desk that was definitely made for one of her parents. She just looked tiny, sitting behind it.     “Okay! So, we are… just shy of one year! How are you feeling today?” Charlie consulted her paperwork, searching around for her pen as she spoke. It was the one she’d taken from Katie Killjoy, way back at the hotel’s launch.     “Same ol’, bored as hell, but doin’ my best. Clean, nice, and well-adjusted.” Angel ticked off on his fingers, reciting the three goals Charlie pushed all of her patrons towards. She hummed, clicking the pen a few times before she began to take notes. She probed at him with the usual list of questions, asking about his recent activities, work, friends, mood, and how he was coping and feeling about each of the problems he’d mentioned in previous meetings. He could see she’d drawn his shirt in the margins. ‘Piece. Of. Cake.’ he congratulated himself, standing up and starting to excuse himself. He’d made it through the full hour without a single slip up.     “Sit back down, Angel.” Charlie scolded, setting her page down flat. She dropped the pen, eyeing the chair when he didn’t. He sighed, plunking back down.     “What’s up, boss?” He asked, arms crossed. Charlie reached over the desk, yanking his sleeve up before he could stop her.     “I knew it.” she hissed, sitting back in her chair, hands wrapped around her elbows, arms pressing flat against her ribs. “Angel, you’re not even close to clean.”     “What! That’s playing dirty! I am! Well, I was. Definitely was! I was being a super good boy, but then, I dunno, something happened, and then I guess I made a mistake last night, and then I guess, I dunno. A lot happened last night, an’ I don’t remember none of it, but I swear! I was clean until yesterday! I’ll get it back!” He wasn’t being completely truthful, he’d been sneaking drinks and hits of whatever coworkers had on hand while he was at work, but he definitely couldn’t tell her that, and he really had been cutting back… Why couldn’t he remember last night?     “Angel, you’ve come to check-ins still stoned before, just… stop.” Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose, blowing out a breath. “Last night, Alastor brought you home from Val’s. You were a huge wreck. He took you upstairs, but you started screaming at us and locked yourself in your room.” She paused, looking up at him, willing him to say something, but Angel, for once, had nothing.     “Have you ever told me the truth?” Charlie sighed, pushing herself to her feet. She circled the desk, opening the door with a resigned, defeated look. Angel frowned, knowing he was the cause, but not how to fix it. Getting high at work wasn’t surprising, but to get totally wrecked wasn’t right. Angel shuffled, thinking he was being dismissed, but what happened next was so much worse.     Alastor walked in, face blank and perfectly schooled into place. Charlie retook her seat, gesturing to the open chair beside Angel. Al took it, not looking at him. He just stared straight ahead, completely zoned out.     “Angel, you were already on your last warning before this. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Charlie tried again. Angel opened his mouth, starting over with what he’d already tried, but it fell on deaf ears. Neither Charlie or Alastor so much as twitched as he tried spinning line after line, trying for pity, sympathy, humor, anything. When she couldn’t take anymore, Charlie shook her head, scribbling away on a sheet of paper. Angel couldn’t make out the words, no matter how desperately he wanted to. It felt like his whole head was throbbing and the room was spinning. How hot was it in here anyway? He shoved his sleeves up, already caught out. It was hard to catch his breath, he slumped forward, tempted to put his head between his knees. Were his ears ringing, or was that Al’s static?     “Angel,” Charlie said, clearly not for the first time. Concern was leaking into her voice, and he fished himself back out, sitting up, head lolling to one side. Al stayed silent, not offering a hand, a word, even a tune. He had never felt so alone in a room full of people who were supposed to care about him. So much for that.     “Angel, I have to evict you.” She said finally, sliding the page over to him. “You have to sign this.”     It wasn’t possible to hold back the tears dripping down his face, and just as impossible to figure out why he couldn’t stop. Who cared about the dumb hotel. He had any number of places he could go. Molly had a spare room, if he wanted to go back to the mob. Cherri had a couch, and he’d already thrown his lot in with hers for turf wars. Hell, even Val would take him back and let him live in a studio if he did more videos. Screw the Hotel! Angel growled, throwing his things into duffel bags, ripping his posters off the wall, slamming the drawers closed after emptying them. Fat Nuggets hid under his bed, snuffling sadly, but he didn’t have it in him to apologize yet, even if the pig was innocent. Sometimes he just had to stay angry.     “I would think you wouldn’t want to destroy your own possessions, darling.” Alastor spoke softly from the open doorway, looking around slowly. Angel pouted, looking more pathetic than mad, but he didn’t care. He didn’t notice when Al had gotten there, but it didn’t matter.     “I don’t possess anything. Anything that’s mine gets broke or taken away.” He said pointedly, snatching the pictures off his nightstand. He inspected them, finally dumping them in the wastebasket by the vanity. Alastor blinked, his radio noise some garbled music that was probably supposed to calm his nerves, but they just grated on them more. Angel did his best to ignore him, storming around the room, packing away every possible hint he’d spent a moment in the room. Finally his last nerve snapped, worn thin by his unhelpful, intrusive, cold boyfriend. He snatched the deer plush off his nightstand, the last thing left unpacked, and hurled it at the Radio Demon’s chest. There was sharp feedback as it struck him, like a microphone dropping or a headset being plugged in.     “Would you just get out of here!” He screamed, voice shattering. Alastor looked passively at him, picking up the doll slowly, smoothing its short fur.     “Very well. I will wait for you in the foyer, if you prefer.” Alastor turned, still cradling the deer. “Would you prefer I take Fat Nuggets, or can you manage, love?” His trademark smile drooped, dipping into something smaller, sadder, but sincere, broken-hearted love in an instant. Angel sniffled, dragging his arm across his face. Saints’ sake, his makeup was wrecked all over again.     “Whaddaya talkin’ about?” Angel choked out, grabbing for more tissues. Alastor set the doll down on the bed, coming closer. Angel let him into arm’s reach, but he wasn’t ready to be touched just yet.     “I’m waiting on you, my dear.” Alastor repeated, gesturing to Angel’s bags.     “What for? Ain’t ya done with me for bein’a a dirty wh-” Angel was cut off with a harsh look from Alastor, contempt and scorn he rarely wore. “You’re nothing of the sort. I discussed this very carefully with Charlie last night, I’m very sorry we did not make ourselves clearer.” Alastor fetched the pictures from the wastebasket and looked at them, keeping his hands busy.     “You ain’t breakin’ up wit me?” Angel asked again, eyes wide. But he was sure that Al had been so cold because…     “Never, my love. I would never abandon you over something so trivial.” Alastor set the pictures aside, finally lifted his hands, cupping the spider’s face gently. His gloved thumbs cleared away the last of his love’s tears.     “But you were so….dead?” Angel tried, sniffling again.     “I was so worried about you, darling, I was beside myself. I stayed with you all night, and spoke with Charlie once I was sure you were quite alright by yourself.”     “So Charlie is kicking me out -”     “You’ll be moving in with me, my love.” Alastor spoke softly, eyes downcast. He drew Angel in closer, pulling him to his chest. “Charlie agreed it would be better for you, but to keep it quiet. If that’s not what you want, then-”     “No! No, no no, I, Al, I want that, I just. I don’t get it.” Angel sighed, resting his weary head on Al’s shoulder, four arms wrapped loosely around him. He knew not to hold too tight, or else Al got squirrely. Al drew back, but only slightly. He pressed his forehead to Angel’s, his ears and horns tangling gently with Angel’s hair.     “Addiction is difficult, and it can only be fought with attention and support, not alone, isolated in a hotel room. I’d like to give you that, if you’ll have me.” There was hope, love, faith, and trust in Alastor’s voice, everything Angel had ever wanted, truly wanted, the things he’d tried so long to replace with the high, trying to stuff his feelings with drugs.     “I’m never going to let you go.” Angel answered, new tears prickling at his eyes.     “Let’s go home, my darling.”