#its wiping down the baseboards and couches for me

[initiala]

Oh hai.

It's not dead or abandoned! Remember how I started this for @cssns​ 2018???? Just, y'know, life happening, and also several global catastrophes. But it turns out that writer's block is really cured by procrastination, which is why I was able to finally figure out some spots I was stuck on while not packing up my apartment to move.

Please enjoy this overly delayed post-wedding fluff and smut.

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

______________

The holidays weren’t really something she paid attention to, not after her parents died. Her mother had loved any excuse to have a party and Emma had grown up with the nondenominational trappings of Christmas in their house, but the tradition had died with Snow and David when she was sixteen. She normally spent the last week of December pulling extra shifts at work, covering for people who had families and wanted the extra time off, and never had a second thought about it. The Pack had their own holidays, particularly around the solstices, but nothing compared to the warm, colorful parties of her childhood -- and frankly, nothing ever would. 

So when their short honeymoon fell over Christmas Eve and Day, Emma didn’t think anything of it. Killian made no indication that he celebrated it, and when they returned home on Boxing Day it was to a chilly apartment without any of the decorations that dotted the windows up and down their street. She turned up the heat a little while Killian took their bags back to the bedroom to be sorted out, and she double-checked the windows were locked tight while turning on a few lights in the living room.

The colorful twinkle outside meshed with the light snowfall in a way that made her heart twist painfully in her chest, a flash of her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears and a brief memory of her father cornering her mother under the mistletoe. Her thumb went to the band on her finger, a lump forming in her throat, and she remembered why she normally worked herself to the bone this time of year.

Work was a distraction from missing them.

“Emma?”

She whipped the curtains shut to put an extra layer between the cold glass and the warming room, between herself and her memories, and turned to face her husband as he came into the room. “Love, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, but his large hand engulfed her own as it went to discreetly wipe at her eyes. “Darling, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten this but I can smell when you’re sad,” he said, his voice soft as he pulled her into his embrace. “We’ve been home five minutes, you can talk to me.”

Fuck, she hated talking about her feelings and her parents and particularly her feelings about her parents. But she’d promised -- she’d vowed -- that she’d be more open and honest with him, and she was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to get lucky and guess what all of this was about. She hadn’t told him enough about her parents to let him put all of the pieces together. “I just… I miss my parents,” she said softly, and let him hold her as he made a sympathetic noise and murmured soothing things in her ear. “Mom really loved this time of year. She threw the best parties, one year she actually got fairies to make it snow inside and me and the other kids had a snowball fight. She loved the colors and the whole family thing and she really loved the smell of pine trees -- it kind of gave my dad a headache. But we made it work because Dad always said how it put an extra sparkle in Mom’s eye and he loved her enough to put up with it. I normally try to work a lot through this time of year, everyone wants extra time off, but I was kind of hoping this year we could have some new memories to make this time of year less sad. And it helped, it really did, but then I just saw the lights outside and the snow and it just… it hit me a little harder because I’ve been trying so hard not to think about them. So I miss my parents and I’m sorry this time of year is going to suck no matter what and--”

Killian shushed her softly and she realized she was crying as he thumbed the tears from her cheeks. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “If I’d known… well, I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t blindfold you everywhere -- well, I could, but not in the fun way --” He grinned as she swatted him on the chest. “So testy, my love. You don’t have to be sorry about missing your parents. You just need to let me know, so I can comfort you or let you sit and mourn them in peace, or drive you to distraction. And if I need to do so more this time of year, well, let it be my burden to bear. You don’t have to bear this alone, Emma, you can always rely on me.”

And didn’t that just make her get teary all over again? “How the hell do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked, burying her face in his chest.

“Because I’m magic,” he rumbled under her and she pinched his side. “And we’re too alike, you know. Now, what do you need?”

She sniffled and took a breath, taking mental stock. They really needed to unpack and get everything sorted out for laundry, but while that would keep her hands busy her mind would wander and she really didn’t want to keep thinking about the past. But she knew that leaving everything until tomorrow or the next day would bother Killian; she didn’t want to be alone right now, either. “Can we bring the bags back out here and watch TV while we unpack? I know you just put them away but--”

He was already nodding, though, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you need, love.”

Since he’d been the one to put them away and she was being the emotional asshole, she figured it was only fair that she bring the bags back out. She had no idea how he’d done it all in one trip, not with how narrow the hall was and how much she disliked scuffing her baseboards with the wheels, and surreptitiously eyed them as she made multiple trips back and forth.

No scuffs. “I’m magic,” she mumbled in a sarcastic imitation of her husband’s accent, shaking her head.

Killian had the TV on to the classic movie channel and the unmistakable scent of chocolate lingered in the air. “Dash of cream liqueur, whipped cream, and cinnamon,” he said, handing her a mug as she sat down.

Emma smiled into it, letting the warmth of the drink and the liqueur slide into her belly. “Did I ever tell you Mom’s the reason I like this?”

“Mm, no.”

She watched as he deftly unzipped the largest bag and started sorting through it; she’d done little more than toss everything in without caring about wrinkles, and the whole thing reeked of sex and wine -- they’d had not nearly enough of both over the last few days, but apparently enough to let the scent sink in to all the fabric. A different kind of warmth settled under her skin, but she wasn’t in the mood to act on it just yet. “According to my dad, Mom drank this all the time when she was pregnant with me. Her biggest craving; not that she didn’t like it before, but it was like another level. So then it became our thing, once I was old enough to have some, just sitting together on the couch or in the kitchen or wherever, with our matching cocoa with cinnamon.”

Killian glanced over at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and her heart swelled suddenly with reaffirmation of how much she loved him. His bangs fell over his forehead in a way some might call rakish, but when he looked at her like that -- lips quirked up in amusement at his own joke he was about to tell, unable to hide his glee at his own cleverness -- she could only call it boyish. “Sweet tooth before you were even born, eh Swan?”

Maybe not a joke then, but teasing, like they were twelve and he was pulling her tail. “I’m a wolf of taste,” she said loftily, setting her mug aside and pulling up another suitcase to go through. “Unlike some mangy curs around here.”

“Mangy cur?” Emma squeaked as she found herself pinned under him on the floor, his nose brushing against hers and heat flooding her body. His grin promised absolute filth, the hard length of his body pressed against hers deliciously, and the scent of his arousal was enough to make her dizzy. “Didn’t realize we were comparing pedigrees here, princess. Too bad you’re stuck with the mangy cur and not some stuffy purebred.”

“I happen to like the mangy cur,” she whispered, their lips close enough to tease.

“Good,” he growled. “Because he likes you too.”

She moaned into his kiss, which was far gentler than she was expecting, and he let up on her arms enough to allow her the space to embrace him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, then down his back, where she teased the patch of skin revealed by his sweater riding up. “Emma.”

He pulled back and she smiled at how he already looked wrecked. She glanced over his face, refamiliarizing herself with the little details she already had memorized but still loved looking at: the old scar on his cheek, the ginger hairs in his beard, the little freckles and the way his eyebrow seemed to jump up on its own when he got curious about something. He caught her eye with his again and one corner of his mouth ticked up, a sudden shyness in the way his eyes darted around, like he wasn’t sure she was staring at him . “What?”

She shook her head, reaching down and slipping her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, earning a surprised -- and pleased -- noise from him as she pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I just… really love you,” she said when they parted.

His cheeks reddened, but just around his cheekbones, and she loved that she knew that detail about him. If she was further back, she’d be able to see his ears turning the same color, and if she really got to him she’d be able to get his nose to match. She liked the way he could get around her, quiet and unabashedly himself, someone who couldn’t take a compliment seriously and waved off words of praise. It drove her a little crazy, but she’d made her vows to voice her feelings to him and she was going to make good on those vows.

“I love you too,” he said, his nose brushing against hers, and he leaned in to kiss her again.

The laundry could wait.

 ---------------------------------------------------------

“ There she is!” Ruby hollered, ignoring the glares from the other bar patrons.

Emma also ignored the knowing looks on both Ruby and Dorothy’s faces as she shrugged out of her coat. She knew her hair was mussed and she had beard burn on the side of her neck -- Killian had a particular fondness for this dress and the lack of coverage it provided -- and she was definitely late for their night out, but she only felt the slightest hint of guilt over that. Besides, both Ruby and Dorothy knew what it was like to be newly mated, so they could cut her a break. “Hey, thanks for saving me a seat.”

She flagged down a waitress to take her drink order and then grabbed a handful of peanuts. “So… how’s it going?” Ruby asked in a sing-song.

“Babe.” Dorothy elbowed her.

“What? She’s got sex hair and she reeks of it. If that’s her excuse, she’d better dish.”

Emma rolled her eyes, cracking open a shell. “We didn’t have sex, thank you, he just… made it hard to leave.”

“Oh I’ll bet something was hard.”

“Ruby.”

The waitress arrived with Emma’s drink and they ordered one of those mixed appetizers platters to share, as well as another round of drinks. Emma gulped half of her drink after the waitress left again before saying, “I won’t kiss and tell.”

As Ruby made a face, Dorothy reached for her own peanuts. “Some of us appreciate that.”

Emma downed the rest of her gin and tonic; she hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate it, and seeing as how this was a wolf bar the drinks were made to match their metabolisms, but this was the first time she was getting to hang out with her friends since her wedding and she wanted to have fun. Tipsy, ridiculous fun, with no husbands and no responsibilities. Girl time. Catch-up time.

Only, she realized as the conversation started to actually move towards catching up on each other’s lives, she just had stories about Killian.

“Okay, I forbid you to talk about your husband for thirty seconds,” Ruby said, pointing a french fry at her for emphasis. The appetizers had been replaced by entrees, and Emma rolled her eyes as she took an enormous bite of her burger. Fine, she’d just chew instead. “You have to have been doing something other than banging each other silly or going to work.”

Emma took her time with her food, drawing out Ruby’s challenge and taking some small joy in the agitated tick in her friend’s eyebrow. “Well it’s not like you don’t know what I do for work,” she said finally, reaching for the ketchup. “And we’re in a post-holiday lull, so it’s gonna be a bit before things get interesting.”

“One of us has got to get a different job,” Ruby declared, while her mate rolled her eyes indulgently.

Emma didn’t bother to respond, instead flagging down the waitress for another G & T. There was definitely a happy buzz going on under her skin and she wanted it to continue; the burger would only dull the effects before too long.

“Bitch on the prowl, ten o’clock,” Dorothy said suddenly, looking towards the door.

Emma and Ruby turned to look, with what felt like most of the bar’s patrons and staff following their lead. A woman she didn’t recognize was taking off her coat, revealing a dress that would send normal humans rushing to her side in an instant; here, it only added to the allure of her scent. She was obviously in heat, unattached, and looking to rectify the situation.

Already two men were walking towards her, jostling one another to make her acquaintance first; Emma just looked back to her tablemates with a look of resignation. “They’re not wasting any time,” she said.

“Neither is she; she must be the first one of the season,” Dorothy said, watching the situation near the door with mild interest.

“Just glad it isn’t me this time.”

“If there wasn’t any concern about like, us not being turned into a science freak show, I would absolutely watch our version of a trash dating show.”

“Babe, we have too many seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list as it is,” Ruby said.

“Correction, we don’t have enough seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list.”

Emma glanced back at the display happening on the other side of the bar, letting the sound of her friends teasing each other blend into the rest of the noise. This woman was definitely taking no prisoners, making eye contact with one of the men while her hand rested almost possessively on the arm of the other, her lips spread into a wide smile. Hell, she was charmed by this kind of display, especially when the woman demurely glanced at the second man under her lashes for a moment. Maybe Dorothy was right about a dating show… She watched as the woman laughed at something one of the men said, throwing her head back to give everyone a good look -- and smell -- at her neck, and Emma found herself dazedly wondering when she might be able to slip away back home and ravish her husband.

“Oh no, we’ve lost her.”

“Pheromones side effect, tragic really.”

She blinked back to attention. “What?”

Ruby looked annoyed, but Dorothy at least seemed sympathetic. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase, babe, it’s gonna be a while before everything settles down. The coming season doesn’t help.”

“Okay, you can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Emma snapped. Her drink had been refreshed without her notice and she downed it. “I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up about Killian and whatever.”

Ruby started to respond, but Dorothy silenced her with a look. Whatever silent argument they had, Ruby lost and she huffed as she went back to her meal. The reaction stung -- it’s not like Emma hadn’t sat through hours of Ruby pining and then gushing over her own mate, she could stand being the recipient for a while -- but Emma felt it wasn’t worth it to argue and ruin the evening by just turning it into a fight.

Eventually, they started talking again, Ruby breaking first with some pack gossip. The night never got to the raucous levels any of them might have hoped it could get to, but was overall a nice time and Emma even forgot about getting her feelings hurt. It felt good to get out of the house for a while with friends -- but when someone wolf-whistled as the woman in heat from earlier waltzed out with an entirely different man clutched possessively at her side, Emma thought it might be even better to get back home to her mate.

Even short periods of absence seemed to make the heart grow fonder.

 --------------------------------------------

As the new year rolled through to its second month, Emma and Killian quietly celebrated the one-year anniversary of their meeting, marveling at how much had changed in just a year. Killian noticed that Emma seemed to greet each day with increasing wariness, and his own awareness of the mating season coming into bloom turned into some kind of insatiable itch under his skin.

He’d never participated in mating season before meeting Emma. He’d been soured from pursuing any sort of relationship after the disastrous affair with Milah, and even when he’d been half underwater with alcohol he’d decided he’d never again get snared by any she-wolf’s trap. And to his embittered mind, mating season was just another trap, luring men into siring pups or trying to turn a one-night tryst into a long-term commitment. Even after he’d sobered up and straightened himself out, he’d still felt the sting of rejection in his phantom limb and did his best to stay occupied and aloof in spring.

Until Emma.

He’d known from the start that she was different, that chance encounter with her packmates. She had fire, and the way she’d immediately come at him on the offense had piqued his interest immediately. Then the wind had shifted and he’d immediately known what the source of the problem with her packmates had been, the full-blown scent of a bitch in heat burrowing down to awaken his most basic instincts. He’d done his best to remain a gentleman and let her walk away, as she’d clearly had no interest in acting on her own hormones, and once her scent faded on the wind he’d walked away as fast as he could without rousing anyone’s suspicion. He’d thought that was the end of it, until a chance meeting at a bar led to a delightful night of conversation and drinks…

And the most wonderful, passionate woman he’d ever had the pleasure to offer himself up to the next day.

Poor love had been so miserable when he’d come to see if his magical hangover remedy worked for her that he’d hardly reacted to the overwhelming bouquet of Emma in heat. He’d acted immediately to try and rectify the errors in her spice cabinet, mixing his potion and letting her recover. And as he tidied up the mess he’d made, it became increasingly hard (in many senses of the phrase) to ignore the fact that he was absolutely surrounded by pheromones and the obvious lingering scent of everything she’d done to relieve herself of the ache over the last several days. And when she’d emerged from her blanket nest again and stood there with only a shirt and her knickers and legs that went on for miles and giving him every last chance to run before they’d do something they’d regret?

He’d never wanted someone more in his entire life, mating season or not.

It wasn’t long after he returned home, he realized that long weekend in her bed (and her shower and her kitchen… and one particularly enjoyable occasion with her back pressed to the window and the lights in the living room turned off to keep the outside world in the dark to their activities) would never be enough for him. Liam accused him of moping, his friends thought he needed to get out and meet someone new to get Emma out of his system.

Looking up now, watching her enter the room shyly and holding out a simple padded envelope, he knew just as well now as he’d known then: he could never get her out of his system, even if he tried.

“What’s this, love?” he asked, accepting the envelope from her as she settled in the crook of his arm.

“Early valentine’s present,” she said simply.

They had a reservation at a restaurant that day, so he was a little confused as to why she didn’t want to simply wait until then. “Any particular reason why this is an early gift?”

Her scent changed, a little surge of arousal, and amusement laced her voice, “I kind of figured it was safer to give these to you in private.”

Well now he was intrigued. “Very well then, thank you and I accept.”

Reaching into the envelope, he felt photos -- a stack of actual printed, glossy photographs. He glanced down at his wife -- fuck, he’d never be over that, his wife -- and watched her chew her bottom lip nervously as he pulled the photos out. 

Each photo featured Emma in some way, posed and primping and perfect in all her glory. These weren’t amateur photos by any means, and even her hair and make-up looked like someone else had done the job -- not that Emma did poorly at her own appearance, but she wasn’t one to add such accentuation to her eyes to give them that smoky effect. Killian swallowed hard as he went through each photo, his heart thumping especially loud in his ears: Emma looking directly at the camera in some sort of modernized glamour shot; Emma from behind, shot from the waist up, looking coyly over her shoulder as she slipped a shirt -- was that one of his? -- down her arms to expose her back beneath a wave of blond curls; Emma laid out on dark satin, her hair spilled around her like a halo, wearing what was definitely one of his button-downs and nothing else from the way she gripped it closed. “Emma, how did you--” his throat felt nearly as tight as his pants as he paused at the next photo, her eyes downcast as she lay on her stomach, the curve of her breast visible in the opening of his shirt.

“I am people who know people,” she said simply.

On and on it went, all of them sensual or titillating without pushing the envelope enough to qualify as lewd, until the last one: she reclined on her side, propped up on her elbow, on a pelt that matched her own. Completely bare, her back faced the camera, her hair spilling down her shoulders as she looked to the side, not quite looking over her shoulder but enough to give the viewer a look at her demure profile in an otherwise completely shameless photograph.

“Jesus Christ, Emma…”

She rested her head against his shoulder, by all appearances merely a content wife who was pleased her husband liked her gift, rather than the mischievous seductress she truly was. Minx. “You like them?” she asked.

“Very much. And may I add, excellent call on a private viewing,” he murmured, nosing her hair. “Had anyone else even glimpsed these, I would have had to rip their throats out with my teeth.”

She hummed and he grinned as her scent flared. “The whole murderous, possessive alpha male thing shouldn’t be such a turn on,” she commented, and squeaked as he hauled her up in his lap.

Placing the photos on her lap, he tapped the last one with one finger. “This one should be blown up and professionally framed, I might hang it up in my office. Your arse is a work of art, love.”

“It is,” Emma agreed, “but wouldn’t that go against the whole ‘if anyone else saw these I’d kill them in cold blood’ thing?”

He tweaked her nose; she really was a terrible mimic of his accent. She always made him sound like a Mancunian somehow. “I didn’t say it had to be the main office, and while I admit that intimidating any potential contractors to a better profit turnover would be better, I can’t say I’d be able to get much work done with such a distraction.”

“And it being in your home office would do any better?”

“Well,” Killian said, drawling on the l’s, “for one thing, I wouldn’t have to travel far to take care of any, ah, problems that might arise from a viewing.” Emma snorted, no doubt feeling exactly the sort of problem he spoke of pressed against her bottom. “Though why would I need to look at this if I have the real thing waiting for me?”

“Who says I’ll be laying in wait for you?” she asked, poking his chest. “If our history says anything, I’m the one who pounces on you the moment you walk through the door.”

“Or sooner.”

“Or sooner,” she said. Looping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head. “You really like them?”

He opened his mouth, prepared to remind her that he’d already answered that, but then he noticed the slight furrow of her brow, the nearly invisible downturn of her lips, her wide eyes flicking between his as she tried to read his expression. Killian softened, in several ways, remembering how difficult she found it to be vulnerable; he suspected the act of posing and taking the photographs had been easy -- Emma was a beautiful, confident woman and she knew it -- but now came the hard part: seeking approval. “I love them,” he told her seriously, tightening his hold around her. “A pale substitute for the real thing, but this on my desk,” he flitted through the photos to the glamor shot, “will remind me of the gorgeous woman I have waiting for me at home. And get me through the long , hard days when we don’t see one another.”

She gave him an overly patient look at where he’d emphasized his speech. He leaned down and kissed away the wrinkle between her brows, breathing her in. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone such as you, my darling, but I’m grateful every day to whatever thread of fate drew us together.”

Her breath hitched and her arms tightened around him. She shifted, tilting her head up to kiss him; the intensity of it nearly overwhelmed him, telling him without words how much she loved him and appreciated what he’d said. He felt her fingers in his hair, grazing the sides of his face and neck, her lips moving against his with a hunger he recognized well. “Let’s move these,” he rasped, doing his best not to just throw the pictures all over the floor, “before we make a mess of them.”

Killian gladly let Emma take control then, pushing him flat on his back on the couch and straddling him. “Show me what you really think,” she said, and whipped her sweater over her head, the offending garment falling almost protectively over the stack of photographs on the floor.

 ------------------------------------------------------

The dream started the way it always did: she was sixteen again and her body wasn’t cooperating as she tried to climb the height to the challenge grounds. Most of this was pulled from memory, the sounds of her mother and Regina fighting, the bitter cold, the tang of blood on the wind, but while the stones under her were covered in ice and snow, she’d been able to climb with only a little trouble. She’d been more worried about what she’d find than making sure her feet were going in the right place.

In the dream, though, it was like moving through molasses. Images came in flashes -- her mother lunging and scoring a blow on Regina’s side, Regina’s snarl and the moonlight glinting off the ceremonial silver knives, her father bleeding to death on the ground. Her voice stuck in her throat as she tried to scream for help, like her mouth was sewn shut.

She was helpless to stop what was happening; she always had been, and even in a dream she couldn’t change the reality that her parents had been murdered in front of her.

But for the first time she was able to get to the top, only to find Regina fighting Killian instead of Snow. He had no knife, no weapon at all, swinging wildly with his fist and kicking where he could, but Regina seemed to have the upper hand as she dodged his every move. It looked like she was completely fine with letting him tire himself out first before she had to do anything; Emma tried to scream, tried to get them to stop -- why would Killian be fighting Regina? -- but her mouth wouldn’t work.

Killian lunged and Regina dodged with ease, moving on the offense for the first time as she slammed her elbow into his back. He fell with a cry and suddenly a rifle was in her hands. A crack sounded in the frozen night and then Killian lay still on the ground.

Her body moved, freed from whatever had trapped her in place. Regina was gone, and Emma flung herself at her mate’s form. He lay sprawled on his stomach, a dark, wet patch spreading across his back in the same place where he’d been shot last fall. She packed snow against the wound, an animal cry ripping from her throat in a desperate plea for help. She turned him over, trying to see if he was conscious, but he was white as death and as cold as if he’d lain there for hours instead of moments --

Emma woke, a scream stuck in her mouth as she fought to get the blankets that were tangled around her and constricting her movements off. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tumbled to the floor; the solid impact shook off the confusion between dreams and reality, but it couldn’t get the image of Killian bleeding out in the snow out of her mind. She curled in on herself as her mind blended it with the same sight of her parents that she’d relived over and over again for more than a decade, her chest aching as she tried to stifle her sobs.

It was late, but she hadn’t gone to bed as Killian had still been at work. She’d dozed off on the couch, something she hadn’t done in a long time—in the last few months, the combination of Alice’s crystal magic and the ever-present scent and feel of their mating bond in the bedroom had helped ease both of their night terrors. Their den represented safety and security, giving them peace of mind to rest easily.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Emma took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She reached for where she’d left her phone, using the hem of her shirt to scrub her face dry with her other hand, and checked to see if there were any messages. A few warm tears leaked out still, even as she checked the time and noted that Killian had texted not long ago to let her know he was on his way home.

As if on cue, the sound of keys in the hall reached her ears, and a moment later they scratched at the lock and then the door opened. “Sorry I’m so late, darling, I—what happened?”

He was at her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms. She lay her head against his shoulder gratefully. “Bad dreams, it’s nothing.”

“Sweetling, the fear-scent hit me full in the face when I came in, it’s not nothing.”

His heartbeat under her ear soothed her, some of the lingering tension in her shoulders easing with the steady thrumming. Her arms went around him and his hold tightened, just a little, as if he could protect her from her own demons just by holding on tight.

She wished he could.

“Bad dreams,” she said again, clearing her throat after her voice came out thick. “A lot of the same, mixed up together in a shitty new brain cocktail I didn’t order.”

He knew about the recurring dream with her parents, and the newer ones from the incident in the fall, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to put together what she meant. He kissed the side of her head. “I’m sorry, darling. Why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I was waiting for you to get home and just nodded off.” Her book, forgotten until now, lay face-down on the floor, pages bunched up and wrinkled now from when it had fallen from her lap in sleep. “If I’d known you were staying that late I would have just gone to bed.”

Killian sighed. “I’m sorry. I was working on a contract and needed feedback from the overseas partner; it’s morning in Singapore so I knew I could get prompt replies. I should have said something earlier.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I still feel terrible.” He kissed her again and stood, bringing her up with him. “Come on, let’s have a nightcap and you can tell me how to make it better.”

She smiled wanly. “I just need you. That’s all I need to make it better.”

Emma allowed him to lead her to the kitchen. “You have me, Swan, you know that. You’ll always have me.”

 -------------------------------------------------------

She woke slowly to the gentle, teasing press of lips against her own. There was a murmur in the back of her mind that sounded like ‘ wake up, darling ’ and she had the bewildering sensation of being in two places at once before a finger brushed against her neck and arousal surged through her body. Instantly she felt more alert, kissing Killian back with newly awakened vigor, and he groaned as she pushed him back, reversing their positions so she lay atop him. “Cheater,” she accused, only allowing them a moment to breathe before coming together again. 

He stroked her mate-mark once more and the swell of arousal almost hurt; she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the ache that lay between them, but Killian’s hand moved down, coaxing them apart to tease his fingers between her folds. “So wet for me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she said, biting her lip at the feel of his fingers on her flesh, the warmth pulsing through her body, the sparks of pleasure with every stroke. He ducked down, pressing his lips against her neck and she whimpered at the touch, feeling like she was melting into putty in his arms. “ Tease .”

“I’m a cheater, a tease,” he murmured against her skin, punctuating each word with another kiss. “What’s next? Scoundrel ?”

She cried out as his fingers thrust home, filling her with that delicious stretch she craved. She could feel him moving his fingers inside, teasing her further, and she didn’t know how she wasn’t just soaking his hand with how turned on she was right then. With each thrust of his fingers, he seemed to lift her up and it took her far too long to realize it was a combination of his own urging and her unconscious compliance as she rose up above him. She threw one leg over his waist and felt the head of his cock bump against her thigh; Killian withdrew his fingers and she looked down to watch him rub her juices off his fingers onto his cock as he took it in hand, quickly positioning himself in place for her to sink down on top of him. "Oh fuck me," he moaned as she began to move, her lips finding his mate-mark.

His fingers dug into her hip as she rode him, skin slapping as she chased her pleasure. The combination of their teasing each other’s mate-marks was driving her nearly insane with lust -- she barely noticed when she peaked, the need for more clawing its way through her veins. Killian protested when she lifted herself off him, but he seemed to pick up on the general plan when she turned and got on her hands and knees.

She gasped, sharp and shallow as he pushed in again, her hand grabbing a fistful of blanket for purchase. He felt so much bigger this way— always had since the way he’d taken her that first time. "If we're going to do this like animals, might as well look the part,” he’d said then, and she certainly felt like an animal now as she pushed back onto him in earnest, back arching and throat rough as she keened, pleading for more.

“Greedy girl,” Killian panted through grit teeth, his hips slamming against hers as she cried out. “Drenching my cock, begging for it.”

“ You woke me up,” she retorted, gasping again as he hit a good spot. “There--do that again, fuck .” His hand found her hip again, nails stinging into her skin just enough to pull a groan out of her. Again, he snapped his hips forward, but it’s less frenzied than before, sharper, calculated, and the breath that punched out of her lungs at the next thrust felt laced with fire. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, felt her heart stutter at the way his mark stood out dark against the morning light.

She slipped against the sheet, nearly buckling, but his hand was there before she could, sliding up the length of her torso to curl his fingers around her shoulder. Too-fast, she found herself surrounded by him, his weight half-draped on top of her as he pulled her flush against him and oh, oh . Fuck tumbled out of her again as she twisted to claim a rough kiss. Distracted, his hips slowed at the contact, but she pushed back again with a roll of her hips.

The hand on her shoulder urged her down, his weight shifting off her back as he reared back and her head pressed against the mattress. The angle was just right, a keen tearing from her throat as he resumed speed, driving into her hard and fast and -- “ Fuck, Killian! ”

His hand slipped under her, between her legs, found their way to her overstimulated clit and teased, drawing circles around it and pressing--

Killian’s phone started to vibrate on the nightstand. Emma felt her orgasm slip beyond reach for the moment, her concentration broken, and she groaned in frustration. She didn’t even know what time it was, but it had to be too early for anything but an emergency. “Killian, you should see who that was,” she mumbled, her head shifting against the mattress as he pounded into her.

Her husband snarled and that sent a little thrill down her spine, reigniting what had been lost. “Whoever it is should fucking know better than to call when I’m balls deep in my wife.”

She had no idea how to articulate how absurd that was, but he moved his hand again and squeezed her breast, leaving wet streaks of her own arousal along her skin and her core clenched around him in anticipation. He exhaled sharply, another little growl escaping him, and she pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. She felt his fingers move along her skin, dancing up her back and nails scratching just enough to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, until they found her mate-mark once more and started tracing around it, lightly circling, pressing just enough--

She saw stars. Burst of color behind squeezed eyelids and an impossible wave of pleasure crashing through her, her legs feeling numb and buckling under her as he rode her through her orgasm until she heard a grunt signaling his own. She slid weakly down onto her stomach, her skin still tingling and her core still shuddering, dragging air into her lungs as fast as she could to try and calm her racing heart. She felt the bed shift behind her, heard Killian’s heavy breathing, then felt him settle between her legs. Before she could fully understand what was happening, she felt his nose brush the sensitive seam of her ass, and then dip lower as his tongue found her dripping, abused, and still fucking aroused cunt. “ Jesus --”

Emma tried to push herself up on her elbows, tried to army-crawl up the bed and away from her insatiable husband’s questing tongue, but he satisfied himself with only a few laps before pulling away. She twisted, flushed and glaring at the smug grin on his face. “Who’s greedy now?” she asked.

“I do love the taste of us together,” he admitted, righting himself and settling back on the pillows.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and summoned all of her strength to get up and go clean herself. Wobbly as it was, she managed the trip to the bathroom and even brought him a washcloth to clean himself up before giving her weary legs a rest and laying next to him. The heady feeling of arousal still burned inside, though more like a smoldering ember pile than the full-on inferno he’d worked her into before, but she pushed it away; she wasn’t in heat yet and her body had limits.

For now.

“So what was that for?” Emma asked.

“Do I need a reason to wake my wife and lavish her with my attentions?” She poked him in the ribs, a particularly ticklish spot, and he squirmed. “Cut it out,” Killian said, giggling. “Your smell woke me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My smell?” she asked, her voice flat. “You know, from anyone else those might be fighting words.”

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “And far be it from me to challenge you, darling. No, I believe it may be close to time, your scent has… shifted somewhat.”

Emma let her head fall back with a groan. Motherfucker. Well, it was to be expected; it’s the normal time for her to go into heat, it was just… the worst. Though, having a mate would make it exponentially easier than previous years; she had that to look forward to, at least. She just hated being completely ruled by her hormones, hated having so little control over her own body. And of course Killian would be the first to pick up on it, of course he’d know her so well that he’d pick up on even the slightest change in her scent. Idly, she wondered if he could tell because he’d smelled her in full-blown heat before, but in truth she believed he’d know any changes in her body and her scent almost before she did.

Puts the kibosh on any cutesy surprise things whenever we get around to having pups , she thought wryly.

“Judging by your enthusiastic response, you’re still unhappy about the prospect,” Killian remarked.

She sighed. “It’s not that. I love nothing more than using you as my personal sex toy, I just… hate everything else about it.”

“We could try a last-minute honeymoon,” he suggested. “We did talk about going somewhere this spring.”

“It’ll be wicked expensive, not to mention both of our bosses would kill us for leaving so last minute. And don’t even try to tell me Liam would be understanding, he’d find something to harp at you about.”

“Technically I’m my own boss.”

“Yes, but what captain leaves the helm to go fuck his wife silly for a week?”

His teeth flash in a grin that sends a shiver down her spine. “I’m sure plenty do, particularly when the captain’s wife is as beautiful and alluring as you. And I do have minions to keep things running, you know I don’t do everything right?”

“You have to stop calling your officers ‘minions’.”

“I pay their salaries, I can call them what I like. Besides, which is less of a mouthful, Chief Operating Officer or minion?”

“Coming from the man who takes an hour to tell a five minute story.”

His grin widened. “One of the many charms you love about me.” She rolled her eyes and the bed shifted as Killian reached for his phone, which pinged a reminder that he had a missed call and a voicemail. “Though I could have reason for it, seeing as how one of them called at a most inopportune time.”

Emma worried her lip between her teeth as he listened to the message, the tinny voice reaching her ears perfectly as questions even she knew could have waited a few hours were relayed. If he was right, and it was reasonable to assume he was, then it would be easier to just combine the honeymoon and her week in heat. It was extremely annoying that there wasn’t any way to really tell when her body would go into heat, outside of paying attention to signs like any subtle changes in scent, and they couldn’t have planned this ages in advance. The thought of paying all the last minute booking fees made her skin crawl, but she also knew he wouldn’t suggest such a thing if it wasn’t feasible.

Marrying up a couple of tax brackets was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Killian tossed his phone back on the bedside table, muttering darkly to himself, and she settled against him again. “How about this,” she started, “we take today to make sure a quick getaway isn’t going to be a problem, and then go in a couple of weeks? I don’t think it’s going to happen in the next few days and we need some time to get our shit together.”

“Eloquent as always, Swan,” he said. “And the full moon is next week, so we should schedule around that as well.”

Remembering that gave her another sense of relief: for some reason, it wasn’t common for their kind to go into heat the week of the full moon. Some did, but it was extremely rare, and always led to complications with the litter. She thought it might have something to do with how her monthly shifting stopped when she’d been pregnant before, nature realizing that changing forms while pregnant wasn’t good for the mother or the fetus, but it wasn’t like there was anyone she could ask about that. Again, something else that the more scientific-minded of their community were studying, but it was difficult.

And it wasn’t like there was The Scientific Werewolf Monthly to publish any of that research.

Maybe there should be.

“Well, that settles that,” she said, her mood buoyed by the lunar calendar. “We’ll go in a couple of weeks. Plunk me on a beach somewhere that’s not Boston in winter and I’ll be set.”

Killian’s expression was a thrilling mix of joy and sin. “Then I’d better make sure it’s a private beach, because I have no plans of letting you wear anything more than a bikini the whole time we’re gone,” he said, shifting to loom over her as he spoke, the last words breathed against her lips before he caught hers up in another kiss.

 ----------------------------------------------------

The wave of pleasure that had been building inside finally crashed over her, sending ripples up to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. She sighed, sated for the time being and pushed away the latest of her spent toys, reclining back on the silk maroon sheets to watch as he took his leave from her bed. They all knew the drill, the men lurking in wait for her summons; she hated for them to linger, but she did indulge in the view as they stumbled away from her room.

For now, though, Regina was tired. That was the third one today, and it was barely noon on the first morning of her heat. She rolled her head on her neck, as much as she was able, joints cracking and muscles stretching. She wasn’t a young pup anymore, as difficult as it was to admit some days, so while being ravished three times by three different, handsome young things in one morning certainly sounded like an ideal way to spend one’s time, it was proving to take a toll on her.

She didn’t like to think too much about what that would mean.

She didn’t care for the reminders, the lines at the corners of her eyes getting a little deeper if she looked too long, the silver strands she kept carefully colored, and now her body tiring a little sooner than it had the year before.

Any slip might give rise to rumors, and rumors often lead to those same men lurking downstairs foolish ideas about power.

No, for now she would rest a bit, take lunch, and assess what else she could do to keep her hand on their leashes until just the right moment.

Her phone rang midway through lunch. Annoyed, Regina answered in her usual, clipped way. “This had better be important.”

- She’s leaving town for a week, her and that British wolf of hers. My sources say it’s probably their honeymoon, but we have to remember the season. If she comes back pupped-- -

“I can make my own conclusions, thank you Sidney,” she snapped, her mood darkening. “Keep tabs on them if you can, and the Nolans. We may have to move faster than anticipated.”

She hung up before he could agree to anything -- it didn’t matter, he didn’t have to agree. He just had to follow orders.

She sat still for a moment, staring at her plate, then moved suddenly, throwing her tablet against the wall. The news that Emma Swan, previous heir apparent to the pack she now ruled, had taken another mate after all the work she’d done to destroy that last relationship had sent her into a rage that kept her people on their toes for weeks. She didn’t need any reason to allow support of any kind for that little bitch to rise, and a newly mated pair with a fresh litter on the way would definitely give reason for people to remember and feel sympathy for the girl. To start rumors or petitions to restore her place.

To revolt.

She’d put in too much work expanding, improving, and keeping her pack in line to let the memory of the old alphas resurface.

Snarling, Regina got to her feet. Rage mixed with arousal, the need to take control of something overpowering anything else, and she pressed the intercom that would summon another one of her playthings to the bedroom.

She hoped he had stamina, though she didn’t quite care if she ended up breaking him in the end. He was easily replaced, just as all the others were.

She was in control here. Not them. Not any of the hotheads she dealt with on a regular basis.

And never, never Emma Swan.

[noona-clock]

One of Those Days

Genre: AU/Fluff

Pairing: Yunhyeong x You

Warnings: None

Words: 2,282

It had just been one of those days.

Well, actually, it had all started last night.

When you’d gone to bed last night, you had connected your phone to the charging cable as you always did. You had set your phone on your nightstand as you always did. You turned the lamp off as you always did. And then you turned over to kiss your fiancé goodnight before snuggling against his chest to go to sleep.

So, on the surface, everything was the same as any other night.

The only difference was that the charging cord had been wiggled free from the plug, and your phone hadn’t charged all night.

You hadn’t noticed until you got to work, though, which would have been fine... if you hadn’t taken your charging cord home for Yunhyeong, your fiancé, to borrow just two days ago.

So, now you were stuck with a phone at 5% battery and no charging cable.

And to make things even worse, your boss asked you to meet with some of your co-workers at a different location, so you wouldn’t be able to access your email. Basically, you would be cut off from digitally communicating with anyone until you got home that evening.

As you rode on the subway to your assigned site for the day, you suddenly realized you hadn’t yet told Yunhyeong your phone was practically dead, so he wasn’t going to hear from you until later. The guy was a total worrywart, so you knew he would notice when you didn’t answer any of his texts throughout the day.

You slid your phone out of your pocket and navigated to your messages, quickly typing one to Yunhyeong to let him know that your phone was almost out of battery, and you would be away from your desk all day so there was no need to worry about you not replying to his messages.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you pressed send. You were now on 2% battery, so you had made it just in time.

But instead of the message showing up as delivered, a red exclamation mark appeared next to it.

Not Delivered, it read.

Not delivered.

Your eyes flitted up to the corner of your screen, and your heart sank. You should’ve known.

You were on the subway! Underground!

No service.

You kept trying, hoping maybe you would hit a pocket or something. But nothing. Every time you tried to re-send it, that red exclamation mark would pop up again.

Not Delivered.

The second the train saw the light of day, you rapidly pressed the Send button again... But it was too late.

Your screen went blank before your thumb had a chance to connect with it.

Oh, great.

Okay, hold on. Not all hope was lost just yet. You could use one of the office phones to call Yunhyeong and let him know --

Wait, never mind. You didn’t have his phone number memorized.

You let out a sigh as the subway train slowed to a stop; you knew Yunhyeong would worry, but... what could you do? You would just have to try not to think about it, though spending the day at another site would probably help with that. You had a lot to get done today, according to your boss, so... maybe your phone dying was really a blessing in disguise.

Maybe your phone dying was a blessing in disguise for you, but for Yunhyeong?

It was the opposite.

He first tried to text you around 9:30 that morning, which was pretty typical. He liked to send you little messages throughout the day letting you know he was thinking about you and he loved you. Sometimes you simply sent back some heart emojis (if you were pretty busy) and sometimes it spurred on a whole conversation about whatever was on your mind.

Today, he sent you a message saying Hope you have a good day, my love 💘 I can’t wait to see you when you get home!

Yunhyeong let out a soft, happy sigh after he pressed ‘Send,’ leaning back against the couch in your shared apartment. Since he was a cooking instructor/YouTuber (with his own cooking channel, of course), he got to spend quite a bit of time at home. He only taught a few classes a week, and he only filmed for his channel when he was making something delicious for you.

Usually, you replied back pretty quickly. Most of the time, you were just sitting at your desk, so your phone was right on hand. Every once in a while, you wouldn’t respond for about an hour, but you would always apologize profusely and tell him your boss had you running errands or something of the sort.

After about ten minutes, Yunhyeong figured today was one of those days. You hadn’t responded back or even read his message, so obviously, your boss was sending you all over the office to get things done.

So, he set his phone down on the coffee table and decided to get some cleaning done. By the time he was finished vacuuming the entire place, you would’ve responded.

Yunhyeong pushed himself off the couch and headed over toward the hall closet to retrieve the vacuum -- his precious, lovely vacuum. You’d given it to him for Christmas the first year after you’d moved in together, and that’s when Yunhyeong had officially, truly, absolutely, without a doubt known you were The One.

After he made his way through every room in the apartment, Yunhyeong turned the vacuum off and put it back in its home. He whistled quietly as he strolled back toward the living area, and when he reached the coffee table, he bent to pick up his phone.

When he turned it over... his brow furrowed. There was no reply from you. And when he navigated to his conversation with you, you still hadn’t even read it.

It was a bit odd, but he would try not to worry just yet...

Instead of worrying when there was probably no need, he decided to give the kitchen a good scrub down. He used it so much, he cleaned the place at least once a week, and now was as good a time as any for a proper, deep clean.

If anything, it would help keep his mind off of the fact you hadn’t yet read his message.

Once again, he set his phone down on the coffee table before turning and heading to the kitchen.

Over the next two hours, Yunhyeong cleaned just about every single inch of the entire kitchen. He mopped the floor, wiped down the counters, scrubbed the tile, de-greased the oven, dusted the cabinets, shined the cabinet handles, and he even cleaned out the fridge, freezer, and pantry.

It was bruising but satisfying work. And it had also successfully kept his mind off your absence...

Until now.

Yunhyeong brought one arm up and wiped his brow with his sleeve before shuffling back out to the living area. He could just picture picking his phone up and seeing at least five messages from you. His eyes would light up and a warm smile would tug at his lips when he read them.

He actually held his breath when he got to the coffee table, and he reached out for his phone. He almost hesitated to pick it up, but he knew you would’ve replied by now, so he went ahead and did it. He picked it up, brought it up to his face, and --

Still no message from you.

And, opening up the conversation, you still hadn’t even read his text.

Okay. It had been over three hours now. Something was wrong.

He knew it was totally fine for somebody to not respond to your texts right away, but... with you, it was a cause for concern. You always answered him within an hour, especially when you were at work. You always read his texts, and you always replied, even if you were mad at him for some reason. That’s just what your relationship was like. You genuinely liked talking to each other, in person or through text message, and if you just didn’t feel like reading or responding to his message... Well, it would be a first.

Yunhyeong couldn’t help but worry now.

He inhaled sharply before tapping on the screen and typing another message to you.

Everything okay, baby? Busy day at work?

He decided not to let you know he was already getting worried because it wouldn’t make you read his message any faster, would it?

With a sputtering sigh, Yunhyeong put his phone back down and...

Well, what else could he do? He decided to deep clean your bedroom.

He washed and changed the bedding, decluttered his closet, tidied up your vanity, wiped away the dust bunnies under the bed, cleaned the windows, straightened the pictures, and even dusted the blades on the ceiling fan.

Still no response from you.

Where are you? Did I do something to upset you? Please, just let me know you’re all right.

He scrubbed the bathtub, took a toothbrush to the grout, rearranged all of his skin and hair products under the sink, cleaned the mirror, washed the towels.

Still nothing.

He called you this time, his heart pausing when it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, I’m getting really worried. I just need to know that nothing’s wrong. Please answer me back as soon as you can.”

Yunhyeong dusted the air vents, used a dryer sheet to clean the baseboards, steamed the couch cushions. He baked chocolate cupcakes, cooked up a pot of chili, brewed some coffee.

He did everything he could think of to take his mind off this. 

But then he realized... the whole apartment was clean. Dinner (and dessert) were ready for tonight. There was nothing more he could do... except wait.

It was now a little past the time you usually got home, which made Yunhyeong worry even more. What if you’d gotten into an accident on your way into work? Surely, he would’ve gotten a call from the police or the hospital, though, right?

What was going on, then?! Why hadn’t you read his messages or called him back all day?!

To be honest, by the time you arrived at your apartment door that evening (later than usual since you weren’t coming from your normal office building), you had kind of completely forgotten about the death of your phone?

But then you got out your key and remembered.

Yunhyeong was going to be a mess.

You quickly unlocked the door, swinging it open as your brow furrowed deeply in preparation for your lengthy and emphatic apology.

Unsurprisingly, Yunhyeong was pacing around the living area, clutching his phone in his hands. He paused when you entered, and the expression on his face immediately morphed into one of total and utter relief.

“Oh, my god,” he breathed as you hurried over to him.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, walking into his embrace and burying your face in his neck. “My phone died this morning, it didn’t charge last night, and my boss sent me to another location so I couldn’t email, and I don’t know your phone number so I couldn’t call, and I was so busy.”

Yunhyeong simply clutched you tightly to his chest, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, hoping his silence wasn’t the beginning of a Silent Treatment.

“It’s okay,” he replied softly before moving to press his lips to your temple. “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

It was a relief to hear his voice, to hear he wasn’t angry. But, still, you knew you’d caused him a lot of grief today.

You pulled away slightly, reaching up and taking his face in your hands. You pressed your lips to his, and you almost immediately felt the desperation in his kiss.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, whispering against his lips. “I’m sorry, and I’m okay.”

Yunhyeong leaned his forehead against yours and let out a very deep sigh, his breath fanning over your lips and chin. “I wasn’t,” he replied. “But I am now.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. I knew you would be worried, and I tried to text you on the subway, but I didn’t have service and then my phone died before I got a chance. When I plug it in, I’ll show you -- the message I was trying to send is probably still there in the text box,” you told him, blindly reaching into your bag to retrieve your phone.

Your  fiancé quickly put his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“Don’t worry about it now,” he whispered. “You don’t need to prove anything. I’m just -- I’m glad you’re all right. That’s what matters most.”

You stood on your toes and kissed him once more, your brow furrowed deeply. You tried to convey just how much you loved him in your kiss, and Yunhyeong responded by holding you tightly, his thumb gently caressing the small of your back.

...But then you realized you smelled chili.

“Did you make dinner already?”

A slight flush colored Yunhyeong’s cheeks, and he smiled bashfully. “Yeah. You know I cook when I’m stressed.”

“And when you’re happy or sad or scared or angry or --”

“I made chocolate cupcakes, too!” he interrupted.

You gasped softly, your eyes widening as you grasped Yunhyeong’s arms. “Really?!”

“Really. You hungry?”

You didn’t even answer him. You simply grabbed his hand and dashed to the kitchen to fill up a bowl with his delicious chili.

...And get a cupcake for an appetizer.

[melo-yello]

I Can't (Erik x POC Reader) One Shot

Pairing: Erik x POC Reader

Warning(s): angst, self worth issues, cursing, crying, the most fluff

Word Count: 2,7k+

Summary: Reader can't take much more of the uncertainty Erik provides.

A/N: I've been work in this for a while and think its finally done. It was gonna be all angst but I needed to feel good. This my first Erik fic so be gentle plz.

Erik traces the forming hickies along your neck as he gropes your inner thigh.

You breathe heavily as you try to regain some of the energy you'd lost in round three with Erik in the last couple hours. You could feel his chest vibrating beneath you as he hums. Your lips curl into a smile against his neck.

Erik isn't the kind to strike you as a singer.

Too brooding.

Too distance.  

Too militant.

But every once in a while when he’s feeling content or peaceful even he'd hum or sing a few lines or two.

Always the same song.

A vaguely familiar melody you couldn't quite place. If you mention it he'd stop and completely deny it.  

He used to be in some choir at his Gigi's church or something like but that's all that he'd tell before slipping into his drunken comma after a particularly rough round and a couple shots too many of Hene.

Not that you could complain. He laid that shit all the way down.

You glance at the scars that liter his upper body. He smiled when he saw your eyes fill with intrigue rather than fear the first time he told you how he got them. That night you knew you weren't special to Erik.

Neither was anyone else.  

Sure he'd never say that to you but he didn't have to. If these casual hook ups ever became too real and someone tried to use you as leverage you'd be dead in a heartbeat. And Erik would be the one to pull the trigger.

He couldn't afford to catch feeling with so much at stake. Neither could you in your line of work it just didn't make sense.  

Contract killers don't fall in love.

Everyone comes with a price tag and a body bag.

No unnecessary complications. Commitment means baggage and baggage means sacrifice. Sacrifice could mean your life.

But. . .

Here . . .

In these sheets. . .

These sheets are where you love each other.  The way his body fits perfectly in yours. Tangling into one another with keen precision.

The way his temper and passion matches yours. Your strength is an even opponent to his. . . Almost. The way that you only really satisfy each other.

Sure Erik had other girls but they weren't even in your league.

The throaty growls of your name pulled from his chest. The countless hickies he leaves in his wake as his fiery touch ignites your soft skin. His primal need to drag lusty cries from your lips. Moans are traded like currency between the two of you. The  jealousy banging after you “casually” mention you fucked another guy just to see him steam.

You sigh letting the long awaited tear  trail down your cheek and hit his chest.

You'd miss this.

Erik stopped humming. You try to wiggle out of his embrace, but his grip tightens.   

“Y/N, where you going stay a little longer.” He chuckles half sleep.

You pull yourself free from him.

“No Erik I've got a flight in the morning. ”  You sing-song nonchalantly pulling back on your lace thong.

“Come on we've got time. It's not till 10:00, right?” He groans pulling you by your waist against his chest.

“Wow you were actually listening.” You tease attempting to bruise his ego.

“Baby, don't play. Ya kno I love what mouth do.” He grins while running his tongue over his lips then your earlobe before nipping the lower half of your neck.

“Oh don't play coy, bitch. I thought an MIT grad could read between the lines. Erik, you kno what I mean.” You shrugged trying your best not to tear up.

He huffs letting you go and leaning against the baseboard.

“This shit again?” Erik says rolling his eyes and handing over the lacey hot pink push-up he eagerly undid within minutes of your arrival.

“Well E, give one real reason I should keep wastin my very valuable time on you?” You smirk and without missing a beat you take your bra and put it back on. Erik kisses his teeth as he rolls his eyes.

“We're having fun. Ain't that the point of all this.” Erik laughs shrugging his broad shoulders.

Why does every asshat have to be built like a demigod?

You sigh and stand up and spotting your jeggins lying in his doorway exactly where you'd thrown them to earlier.  

Easily gliding your curvy hips into the flexible fabric.

“Bye Erik.” You hiss while walking out of the bedroom to find your top.

“Come on, Y/n. Quit playin this hard to get shit.”  Erik sighs pulling on his Adidas sweatpants. He follows you out of the bedroom.  

You search the living room for the peach tank you came in but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Who says I'm playin? Maybe you're not fun anymore?” You hum brushing pass him to get to the couch. Erik rolls his dark eyes letting a cocky chuckle escape his chest.

“So who's your new dick?” Erik says folding his arms with the slightest hint of jealousy in his voice.

You smirk over shoulder to meet his burning gaze and roll your eyes.  

“No one, just know your limp dickass ain’t doing it for me. That stroke game has been pretty damn weak lately. ” You giggle pushing the cushions apart before climbing onto the sofa itself to hang over it. His deep brown eyes burn as you brush pass him.  Proving you have bruised his pride. Something he couldn't let pass.

Erik gropes your ass forcefully enough to nearly send you onto the floor, but pulls you firmly to his waist.

“ErIk!” You gasp as you brace yourself on the couch.

“Yea say ma name just like that, Baby girl. If you need me to jog your memory I'm more than willing to remind you.” He growls sliding his hands to your hips and grinding against your ass.

You lean back into him rolling your hips to match pace with him. His fingers slip into the side of jeggins prying at the lace fabric of your panties.

“Who says I forgot.” You whisper biting down on his earlobe. Erik groans in ecstasy just as you push him away.  

You dismount from the couch and swinging your hips as you sashay across the room having spotted your shirt.

“Oh my God you’re such a fucking tease.” Erik huffs watching your hips bounce before following.

“I've learned from the best.” You sneer reaching for your tank that had somehow made its way onto the top of the bookcase just out of reach.

A warm hand finds the small of your back as the other plucks the peach tank from the shelf.

“So you gonna tell me what's up, Y/n?” He breathes into your ear.

You swallow the lump sitting in your throat and turn to look him in the eye.

“Trying to be decent. How about you?” You try to laugh off the cracks in your voice.

Does he have to look like he could care.

You feel your chest clench.

“Y/n cut the bullshit. No strings. No lies. No feelings. Remember, Baby girl?” Erik hums moving his hand from your back to your cheek.

Like you could forget the pact you two made to avoid a real feelings and relationship.

Yea no feelings.

Your head dips unable to meet his deep brown gaze anymore.

The tears you've been holding finally stream down your cheeks.

“I'm cutting my losses, Erik. I can't play this game anymore. It's not fun anymore it just hurts. I kno you don't care about this shit for real.” You shrug.  

Erik drops the tank and gently lifts your chin.

“Hey Trap Queen, I care about our shit.” He smiles wiping a few tears away.

He presses his forehead against yours just before tangling your lips with his. Passionately kissing you. Like he has to remind you.  Like action is the only way he can prove it.

You bite his bottom lip and he groans allowing you in. Heavy breathes and quiet moans trade between you as one tries to overpower the other.   The pit in your stomach twists tighter and you pull away.

“Erik...You really don't...Not Really. And I can't keep doin this with you.”  You choke out pushing away and tugging on your tank. You drag an arm across your face as you pull on your sneakers. Searching for the jacket you came in only to realize it’s one of his.

“FUCK IT!” You huff snatching up your keys. You go for the door but Erik yanks you back by your wrist.

“WHAT THE HELL! Y/n, you don't get to decide that!” Erik fumes.  

“LET ME GO! I’m not doing this.” You rage back.

“No! Yo little ass started this shit and we damn sure gonna finish it! You ain't gonna tell Me who I care about! Until everyone you've ever given a real fuck about leaves you all alone don't come at me with ‘You have intimacy issues bullshit’! No shit I do! I WAS FUCKING 8, Y/n! Did it EVER occur to you this is the best I can give you? Y/n get yo uppity ass off yo damn high horse! You don't care. That's why you're walking away. YOU'RE SCARED! SCARED SHITLESS THAT YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT US AND YOU COULD LOSE IT!” He counters his voice spewing his repressed resentments like blood from a cut.  

“The Hell If I Am?! Like You’d Kno! You Don't Kno Shit About Caring! Or Being scared. You haven't felt anything real in a long ass time! YOU TOLD ME.  You kno if it came down to it and you had to choose me or yo own ambitions. It wouldn't even be a contest. Despite what you may believe Erik WE'RE ALL BROKEN! IN OUR LINE OF WORK WE ALL COME FROM SHIT SHOWS! And with yo big headass I'm sure you think this is the best you can give to me. Letting me just close enough to this best version of yourself that way I'll come back to you legs open and praying that what we have is special. We can't keep pretending this shit is real. Find some other dumbass bitch to play Bonnie and Clyde with you!!” You spit ripping your wrist from his grasp.

You stare him down before turning to the door.  

Erik steps in between you and doorway. His nostril flared as bit down on the the inside of his cheek.

“That's what you think this is to me, Shortie?! A damn game of pretend? That we playin some fucked up version of house!” He says taking a couple steps closer.

You roll your e/c eyes.

“What the hell else was I supposed to think.”

You stare back at him for some form of a contradiction. But it doesn't come.

“That I-” He just swallows the rest of his words.

He keeps opening his mouth to speak but no words come out. His chest tightens as he balls up his fists trying force a decision from his lips, but his pride won't let him.

You can almost hear the war raging in his head and you can't help but pity his dumbass.

Sucks to be you.

You shrug barrelling past him.

“See!!! You're A SHITHEAD, ERIK!” You shout throwing up your middle finger as you slam the door behind you.

Numbed by your own disappointment you barely notice the cool breeze whipping against your skin. You snatch open the  black hummer’s door. As the door shuts your forehead falls into the steering wheel.

Your heart rams into chest at full speed.  

All the childish vulnerability you refused to let Erik see came pouring out. You wrap your fingers around the steering wheel. You throw head back and scream at the ceiling.

Everything you hated and loved about him spilling out of you like fountain. Curses muffled by the reinforced glass.

“WHO THE HELL DOES THAT PUNKASS BITCH THINK HE IS TELLIN ME I'M SCARED! HE'S SCARED! HE'S JUST ANOTHER DUMBASS DICK,”  you yell staring yourself down in the rearview mirror, “JUST CAUSE I DON'T WANNA WASTE MY TIME ON HIM DOESN'T MAKE ME PUSSY. I LEFT THAT UNREQUITED SHIT IN HIGH SCHOOL.  I'M TOO GROWN FOR THIS! I AIN'T GOT THE TIME TO BE STRUNG ON HIS DUSTY HOTEP ASS! ...even ...if he does smell amazing all the damn time. even if he has an immaculate skincare routine and does the dumbest shit just to make me laugh and for the first time in long time doesn't make me feel like I'm a monster… FUCK!” You groan leaning your forehead into the horn.

This is the end and you give a fuck.

Too Many FUCKS.

It just isn't fair he came out unscathed.

You slam your fist into the horn over and over again.

A quiet knock from outside the window makes you freeze completely.You crack the window just enough to see his brown eyes.   

“Not to interrupt ya moment but you might wanna cut that shit out before somebody calls the cops.” Erik says attempting to sound like his usual smartass self, but cracks in his voice won't let him.

“Nigga, you need the number or somethin cuz I got em saved in my contacts.” You croak wiping your face on your arm. Trying not to sound half as bitter as you're feeling.

“Nah I need you to open the door, Ma.” Erik says gripping the handle.

“Why, you wanna pic for motivation as you type that vague Insta story about how ‘bitches ain't shit’?” You flare over the window.  

“No thothina, so I can curse yo smartass out for havin me so damn whipped I'm out here standing in the cold with no shoes in front of a locked car of a woman I've already smashed tonight.” Erik huffs looking you dead in the eyes.  There isn't an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

The lock snaps up as you just stared at him wide mouthed and confused. He pulls open the door, but he doesn't make a move to touch you. He just props himself on the door with the jacket you wore to his house that night in his fist.

“I wasn't gonna say shit. Too fucking tough for that vulnerable shit, right. I wasn't  gonna let you kno you got to me. But watch in u walk out that door...I couldn't do it. You had to kno that We're real. Babygirl, whatever this is it sure as hell ain't pretend...at least not for me. I kno I'm hard to read and sendin out all kinds of signals sometimes but it's not you. There's a lot of hurt shit in here. It's terrifying to care this much about someone again.” He pauses offering a hand to you and as hesitantly give him yours he steps closer placing both on his chest, “But for so reason I don't really mind if you see that shit. I'm not askin you to stay.  I just want you to kno it was real. We were real. It's fuckin insane how much I care about some wildass assassin I met in some dank ass hole in wall nightclub with a hit out on my mark. You got me sprung, Y/n. I think I... love you.” He smirks at you with uncertainty shining in his deep brown eyes.

You swallow the lump in your throat and step out of the car. Closing the distance between you and him as you take his hand from his chest and place it on your neck and cheek.

"You really mean that shit, Stevens?" You hum looking down not quite ready to meet his eyes. Never before have you seen that kind of openness in his expression.

Like he was ready to risk all. He gently lifts your chin so you'd meet his gaze.

"Baby, you're everything I need and more."

You pull your arms around his thick waist. You cover your bubbling laughter in his chest.

"E, you do realize you just quoted Halo right?" You smile biting your bottom lip as to not all out laugh in his face.

Erik frowns slightly before scooping you into his arms and belting into the chorus in key as he carries you to the door and you erupt in laughter.

[insideoutstory]

Inside Out → Chapter Four

summary: Christine’s neighbor comes to check on her, which makes it hard to avoid her problems. word count: 4.5k warnings: n/a [ masterlist ] [ FF.net ]

If this was what a hangover felt like, Christine vowed she was never going to drink again. 

The end of the night was a smudge of memories—crying on the sidewalk, stumbling through the door, collapsing onto the couch. She hadn’t even bothered to take off her shoes before falling asleep. Her arms felt numb where the denim jacket cut off her circulation, and she knew that the throw pillows were leaving unsightly creases in her face. But she was too tired to move. 

The only idea that seemed tempting was a trip to the bathroom. At the moment, it felt like she’d sustained a gaping wound in the lining of her stomach, and gastric acid was flooding her body, disintegrating her organs as it went. She wasn’t sure if vomiting would help. It certainly wasn’t going to help her head, which was pounding like she’d never felt before. 

Boom. Boom. Boom. 

“Hey! Hellooo in there! Rise and shine, Walcott! Wake up!” 

Boom. Boom. Boom. 

“Hello?! I know you can hear me! Christine? Hey, Chrissy!” 

Boom. Boom. Boom. 

Christine groaned, pressing her face farther into the pillow. She was relieved that the pounding wasn’t just her head, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy to kill the person knocking on the door. 

“Go away,” she grumbled. “I’m up! Just go away!” 

“No can do,” the voice called through the wall. “Come on! Up and at ‘em! Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey! I’m not leaving!” 

The banging resumed once more, twice as persistent now that she was definitely awake. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom… 

“Shut up! Fine! I’m coming!” 

Christine forced her body upright, and every nerve screamed in agony. She clutched her head, waiting for the tilt-a-whirl that was her living room to come to a halt. Then she dragged herself to her feet and stomped to the front door. She threw it wide open with a death glare set on her face. 

“See? I’m awake. Go home.” 

“Woah,” said the boy on the stoop, grabbing the door before she could shut him out. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks, Dustin. Go home.” 

“No can do. I told you. You didn’t check in yesterday, so Mom sent me to make sure you’re alive.” 

“Well, I’m alive. And it’s…” She leaned back to glance at the living room clock. “Jesus! It’s eight o’clock! In the morning!” 

“Yeah? It’s also really cold! Are you gonna let me in or what?” 

Christine huffed, and threw a hand up in exasperation. Dustin mimicked her, waving his arms over his head and side-stepping her to get into the house. She smacked his hat off in retaliation, which he was only just able to recover. 

“What are you doing up, anyway?” Christine asked, closing the front door. “Kind of early for a Sunday.” 

Dustin rounded on her with his arms over his chest. “Is it early? Or were you just up too late?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“That’s right. What were you doing getting home so late?” 

“Well, what were you doing up so late?” 

“Well, what were you…?” He trailed off, realizing that she had him. Then he shrugged. “I was reading. New X-Men comic came out last week.” 

“Okay. Well, I was coming home from a party.” 

“And I’m up because it’s campaign day. I’m on my way to Mike’s. You wanna come?” 

Christine frowned, her memories of the previous night becoming clearer. “Uh…no. Not this time, buddy.” 

“Is it because you’re drunk?” 

“Oh ha, ha. I’m not drunk. I’m…hungover.” 

Dustin grinned, jabbing a finger at her. “You need fluids.” 

He marched into the kitchen without invitation. Christine went to roll her eyes, only to find that somehow hurt. She pinched the bridge of her nose and trailed behind him. Taking a seat on a stool at the counter, she watched him bustle around. 

“Not to be a downer, Dust, but I don’t really think more liquid is the solution here.” 

“Nope!” he said cheerily. “Alcohol dehydrates you, which is why you need to drink water. And you need to eat, to soak up all the nasty shit in your stomach.” 

He slammed a box of Cheerios in front of her, along with a glass of water, and slid them across the counter. 

“You should also take some aspirin. But I don’t know where you keep that.” 

“Medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” she groaned, grabbing the glass. Dustin, however, didn’t move. “...Well?” 

“What, you want me to get it? What am I, your dad?” 

“Of course.” Christine shook her head with a grudging smile. “Thanks, Dustin.” 

“You got it.” 

She grabbed the box of cereal, plunging her hand unceremoniously into its depths rather than wait for a bowl. “Where’d you learn all that stuff anyway?” 

“Anti-drug assembly. You probably had one too. You’re just too drunk to remember.” 

“Not drunk,” she corrected, offering him the box. “Hungover.” 

“Whatever.” He stuffed a handful of Cheerios into his mouth, and continued. “Wha’ par-ee were you ah? You didn’ sah ahneethin to me ‘bout it.” 

“Yeah, it—it was sorta a last minute thing.” 

“Sorra?” 

“Yeah. What about it?” 

Dustin gulped, fixing her with a suspicious stare. “So what does that mean, ‘sorta’?” 

Christine suffered through the pain to roll her eyes. 

 “It means someone asked me about it when I was at work.” 

“Was this someone a dude?” 

“Dustin…” 

“Was his name Steve Harrington?” 

“God, you’re annoying.” 

“Well? Was it?” 

“Yes,” she groaned, leaning back on her stool. “Yes, it was Steve Harrington. Are you happy?” 

“Um, obviously,” said Dustin, grinning. “I don’t know why you’re not.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Well, Steve Harrington asked you out,” he said, raising his voice an octave at Steve’s name. “Mr. Perfect Steve Harrington who you’ve been obsessed with for like, ever. I’d figured you’d be over the moon. What’s your damage?” 

“It’s nothing,” Christine sighed, propping her elbows on the counter and laying her chin in her hand. “Just girl problems.” 

“Girl problems like emotional drama or girl problems like body stuff?” 

“Dustin!” 

“What?” he asked, holding up his hands defensively. “It’s a valid question!” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“What did I just say?” 

Dustin jumped back, and Christine instantly regretted snapping at him. But there was some sick satisfaction that came with the silence. He didn’t push her. He just frowned at the cereal box and scuffed his sneakers against the floor. 

Christine turned away, busying herself with the glass of water he’d poured for her. Even after one sip, she felt a little better. Stupid psychosomatic crap. 

“I heard you crying.” Dustin was kicking the baseboard idly, avoiding her gaze. “When you came home last night. That’s why I came to check on you.” 

She bit back a sigh. Annoying as he could be, Dustin always meant well. It was one of the reasons it was nearly impossible to stay mad at him. 

“I’m fine, Dustin,” Christine said softly. “I promise.” 

“Did he hurt you?” 

“No.” 

“Do you want me to egg his house?” 

“No, Dustin.” 

“Are you sure? Cause I really wanna egg his house.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s…It’s not his fault anyway. Not really.” 

She was hoping that they could leave it at that. But of course, with Dustin there were never any open-ended conclusions. His curiosity always needed to be sated. So he stared at her expectantly until she conceded. 

“It’s nothing. He just doesn’t like me. Not like that.” 

“If he doesn’t like you, why did he invite you to the party?” 

“Um…well, I guess he was hoping someone else would come with me.” 

“Who?” 

This time it was Christine who stared pointedly at Dustin. A look of comprehension dawned on his face, and his mouth dropped into a small oh. 

“So that’s why you don’t want to come to D&D.” 

“Yeah. And considering I ditched crying when I saw her making out with Steve, I doubt she wants to see me either.” 

“Gross.” 

Christine wiped her hands down her face, as if she might be able to remove her problems like a mask. “Look, I don’t want you talking about this with the party. The last thing I need is the four of you gossiping in the basement about Nancy and me.” 

“Hey, I’ll be cool,” he said innocently. “Scout’s honor.” 

“You’re not a boy scout.” 

“Bard’s honor.” 

“Slim at best.” 

“Well now you’re just being rude. And for that, I’m taking your Pop Tarts.” 

“No!” 

Christine lunged forward, but Dustin was faster. He swept the entire box of pastries off the counter, ran round the other side, and bolted into the living room. It didn’t take long to catch up. She grabbed him round the middle just before he got to the front door, and hoisted him up into the air. Dustin squealed, kicking his legs desperately as he tried to wriggle out of her grasp. 

“Let go of me! Put me down! This is child abuse! Child abuse!” 

“You’re child abuse,” Christine grunted. She placed him back on the ground, and wrenched the Pop Tarts out of his hands. “Gimme that. You can have one package. That’s it.” 

Dustin stuck his tongue out at her, but accepted the snack without complaint. He made a show of tucking them inside his backpack, and carefully pulling it onto his shoulders. Then he dusted himself off, trying to look dignified. 

“Alright, get going, loser,” said Christine, walking to get the door for him. 

But Dustin stayed where he was. 

“You know there’s always gonna be one person that loves you, right?” 

“Wow,” Christine laughed, ruffling his baseball hat over his curls. “You are such a ham today.” 

“Oh no. Not me. I meant Lucas.” 

“Oh my God, just get out of here, Dustin.” 

“No, I’m serious! He’s always had a giant crush on you! Why do you think we’re friends?” 

Christine sighed, leaning back against the front door. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought it had something to do with comic books.” 

“Nope. On the first day of fourth grade, you offered to walk me to school, and everyone in my class thought I was the coolest because I had a middle school girl as a friend. Lucas was the first person to say hi to me after that.” 

“Wait,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Didn’t I introduce you to Mike on the first day of fourth grade?” 

“Semantics.” He waved a hand at her contradiction. “I just want you to remember there are people out there smarter than Steve Harrington. And we’re also like, way cooler.” 

Christine nodded, unable to contain a warm smile. She swung the door open, letting Dustin go first and then following him out onto the stoop. He practically skipped down the path to her driveway, where his bike was waiting faithfully. 

“Hey,” she called, as he clambered on. “Thanks for the pep talk, Dusty.” 

Dustin lifted his hand in salute, and gave her a toothless grin. “Hey, I learned a new trick on my bike this week. Wanna see?” 

“Yeah, go crazy.” 

He beamed, getting off to a rocky start as he peddled down the driveway. He looped the wrong way when he hit the street, gaining speed before he raced toward the Wheelers. Once he hit top speed, he took both hands off the bike, cupped them to his mouth, and screamed at the top of his lungs. 

“STEVE HARRINGTON IS A DOUCHEBAG!” 

Christine clapped a hand over her mouth. She instinctively checked the street for bystanders, but no one was around to glare reproachfully. That was a relief, since she failed to repress her snort of amusement. 

“Hey!” she shouted after Dustin. “Watch your language!” 

“Watch your alcohol intake!” 

He waved to her over his shoulder, hardly breaking as he zoomed around the corner and completely out of sight. Christine grinned as she watched him go. 

“Little shithead.” 

She closed the door, heading back to the living room where the couch was calling to her. She hadn’t planned on being up this early. Not that she’d done much planning anyway. Her muscles begged her to go back to sleep—couch, bed, it didn’t matter. However, she also knew that she had a lot of homework to do. And of course, she felt like crap. 

She finished another glass of water to be safe, and passed on the Cheerios to make some toast. The thought of eating still made her insides writhe in protest, but she knew Dustin was right. She wouldn’t feel any better until she got something in her stomach. 

After that piss poor breakfast, she dragged herself to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth twice, desperately trying to remove the slimy feel of punch from her gums. She scrubbed at her skin in the shower, nearly scorched herself with hot water, but none of it mattered. It was like the ghost of that stupid house party had gotten under her skin. 

While the shower didn’t particularly help ditch her bad mood, it had made her exhausted. Christine didn’t think twice as she passed the phone, or the pile or work next to her desk. That could wait until after a nice, long nap. 

 At least, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. It had seemed like a good idea when she woke up again at noon, the sun gently filtering through the window. It had only started to seem questionable when she sat down at one o’clock, refreshed and well-fed, and faced the enormous pile of homework that was due the next morning. 

As much as people teased her, Christine was not a particularly studious person. She wasn’t diligent like Nancy—studying weeks in advance and chipping away at large projects in reasonable, organized amounts. More often than not, everything was pushed to the last minute, and she’d give it her best shot. Thankfully, her best shot was usually pretty good. 

Science came easy to her. Analyzing how things worked, actually wanting to understand—it was natural for Christine. In other subjects, she had to work a bit harder. Her math grades were fine, even if she didn’t love trig. What was the point of studying something they couldn’t use in everyday life? She always struggled with history. Dates and names she didn’t need went right to the garbage center of her brain. But at the moment, she was grappling with an English paper. 

It was just a chapter analysis, and it should have been simple. But her head was aching, the words were blurry, and she couldn’t have cared less about the assignment. Every few minutes, she’d get distracted by cleaning her room, or getting another snack. She told herself she was mulling the answers over in her head. She knew in reality she was just finding more ways to procrastinate. 

Eventually, she reached the point where she began eyeing the telephone. Her homework wasn’t the only thing she’d been putting off, and she honestly wasn’t sure which chore she’d rather face. But knowing she wouldn’t get much further without some assistance, she decided it was worth the risk. 

Christine dragged her schoolwork into bed, pulling her phone off the nightstand and plugging in the familiar number. It only rang a few times before someone picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, Mrs. Holland. It’s Christine.” 

“Oh, hello, Christine! Is everything alright? It’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, I’m so sorry. I’m having some trouble with my English homework and I was looking for some advice. Is Barb still up?” 

“You know, I think she was just heading to bed. Hold on, sweetie.” 

There was a moment’s shuffle as Mrs. Holland pulled the receiver away, calling down the hall to her daughter. Christine barely heard her muffled reply, and a few seconds later there was a soft click as the call was passed off. 

“Christine?” 

“Hey, Barb. Did you finish the review for Striffler’s class? I feel like I’ve read the chapter eight times and I’m still not finding anything useful.” 

“That’s it?” Barb asked flatly. “No ‘what’s up,’ ‘how are you’? ‘Sorry I didn’t call you back last night’?” 

Christine closed her eyes, briefly pressing the receiver against her forehead. That was the attitude she’d been hoping to avoid. 

“Barb, I’m begging you. I feel like crap, I’ve read the same sentence seventeen times, and I just want to finish this crap so I can go to bed. Please.” 

“Funny,” she said sourly. “How is it you can rant for twenty minutes about symbolism and foreshadowing in Hitchcock’s Psycho, but as soon as it’s time for Striffler’s assignments, it all goes out the window?” 

“Because Grapes of Wrath is boring as shit, Barb. Please. If I try to relate one more scene to the turtle in chapter three, Striffler’s gonna have me kicked out of school.” 

“Fine. But you are not hanging up until we finish this conversation.” 

That was as good as she was going to get. It was lucky enough that Barb hadn’t forced the conversation first, and made her wait for homework answers at the end. Not that she made it easy. Her advice was all given pretty flippantly, parsed with vague jabs about unreliability and lack of commitment. Christine knew she was just joking—mostly—but she also knew she deserved it. She had promised to call, after all. 

It took Barb twenty minutes to finish what Christine had been working on all evening. It was a relief to finally close her binder. She took a moment to relish the sound it made when she kicked it off her blanket and onto the floor. 

“Seriously, Barb. Thank you. I’d be lost without you.” 

“Yeah, anytime. I’m just glad to hear you aren’t…you know, dead or something.” 

“I’m sorry,” Christine offered earnestly. “It…It was just a really rough night.” 

“Yeah, sounds like it.” 

“You already talked to Nancy.” 

It was a statement, not a question, but Christine was still hoping Barb might correct her. She did not. 

“Yeah, first thing this morning. And again like, half an hour ago. Chrissy, you should really call her. She sounded pretty freaked.” 

“I’ll bet,” said Christine, unable to repress a snort. 

“She was worried about you,” Barb insisted. “I mean, from what she said you went to the bathroom and just disappeared.” 

“I was sick. If she was really so worried, she could have called me.” 

“She thinks you’re mad at her.” 

Christine pursed her lips, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “Yeah, well she’s not wrong.” 

“What happened?” 

“You talked to Nancy. You know what happened.” 

“Maybe I wanna hear it from you.” 

“Right. You wanna hear it from me, or you wanna find out how much I know so Nancy can keep the rest to herself?” 

“No, Christine…” 

“No! Let’s—Let’s be real, Barb. I know why Nancy didn’t call me. She wants to keep her perfect fantasy alive for just a little longer before I come into the picture and mess things up. Because, you know, it’s me that messes things up. That’s what I do. We went to the party, I messed up, Nancy dazzled everyone with her sparkling personality, and next thing I know, she has her tongue halfway down Steve’s throat.” 

“Chris.” 

Christine huffed, banging her head against the wall. 

“Sorry,” she sighed. “I just…I was being an idiot. I don’t know why I thought it was gonna go any differently. In the end, Nancy always gets what she wants. She always has to get what she wants.” 

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but…she could kind of say the same thing about you.” 

Christine glared at the foot of her bed. “Excuse me?” 

“Look, I get that you’re upset,” said Barb, speaking very quickly now, “and I totally feel that. It sucks. But look at it from her point of view. You made it into Steve’s class, you got to be his lab partner, he visits you at work, and every time Nancy’s tried to be supportive. She’s been happy for you. That’s all she wants from you.” 

“It’s not like I chose to be Steve’s partner. I didn’t have any control over that. She didn’t have to kiss him.” 

“Takes two to tango,” she pointed out. “And I’m willing to bet that you’re not as angry at Steve as you are at her.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh come on, Christine. I know you’re smarter than that.” 

“How can I blame him for liking Nancy better?” she sighed, picking at the edge of her blanket. “Everybody else does.” 

“Okay, no. You are not allowed to turn this into a pity party.” 

“I’m just saying it’s true. It’s not his fault.” 

“It is his fault because he’s using you! He used you to get to Nancy, just like he’s using you to pass physics! Chris, you…you have to know that.” 

Christine frowned down at her sheets. She did know it. She’d known it from the moment Tommy had made that stupid joke and Steve had freaked out. She’d probably even known it before. But what on earth was she supposed to do about that? She couldn’t get away from him. She couldn’t just stop saying yes, even if she wanted to. It was so much easier to pretend it wasn’t happening. At least then she got to enjoy some of his company. 

“It doesn’t seem to bother Nancy,” she said instead. 

Barb scoffed on the other end of the line. “I know. And I won’t pretend she’s not being dumb. It’s just because you’re both blinded by his luscious locks or his sunglasses or whatever it is.” 

Christine chuckled wistfully. “Yeah. Sorry about that.” 

“Hey,” she continued, her voice softer this time. “I know that he’s cute, and he’s super popular and charming, but…you deserve more than that. I need you to know that.” 

“Thanks, Barb.” 

“Anytime. Really. Anytime you need me to remind you that the guy’s dumb as dirt, I will.” Christine snorted, and she could hear Barb’s smile through the phone. “I just worry about you, Chris.” 

“Did you say all this to Nancy?” 

“I tried to. She was actually pretty blasé about the whole thing. Keeps insisting ‘there’s nothing to worry about’ and ‘it wasn’t like that.’” 

“Right. Take it from someone who was there. It was definitely like that.” 

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to focus on the intricate seam-work of her comforter. She didn’t want to remember what they’d looked like cuddled together on the couch, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The image kept creeping up behind her eyelids when she blinked. She suspected that was part of the reason she still felt so nauseous. 

“Is that why you left?” Barb asked gently. 

“Kinda,” admitted Christine. “Part of it, anyway. I was pretty drunk, and then Tommy and Carol started ragging on me about the whole thing.” 

“Assholes.” 

“Yeah, well, I shoved Tommy into a wall so…I kinda split after that.” 

“Look at you,” Barb laughed. “What a badass.” 

“Oh, totally. I spilled punch on Carol and then ran out of the house crying. Real badass.” 

Christine managed a grin, but it was short lived. Another thought was creeping up on her, a question she wasn’t certain she wanted the answer to. 

“Was Nance mad that I left?” 

“No, no,” Barb assured her. “Mostly she just sounded concerned, but…Steve also drove her home, so. I imagine that had something to do with it.” 

“Right.” Her heart sank, which didn’t help matters with her stomach. “Of course.” 

“I really think you should call her, Chrissy. You two need to talk.” 

“I know. I know, I do. I just…I kind of want to wait until I know what I want to say. Until I’m over it.” 

“Do you really think you’re gonna get over it?” 

“Well…no. But I’d at least like to wait until I can close my eyes without imagining the two of them groping each other again.” 

“It could be worse. You could be stuck seeing Tommy and C—…” 

The line went dead without warning. Or not dead, so much as broken. Loud static screeched from the phone, and Christine wrenched it away with a yelp. She rubbed her ear, grimacing. 

“Hello? Barb? Barbara?” 

She rattled the handset at a loss, then whacked the base for good measure. When that didn’t work, she jiggled the hook. She brought the phone back to her ear, expecting to hear the dial tone, but—nothing. Just the static that she couldn’t place. 

Christine frowned, dropping the set back on her nightstand. Well. At least she had a good excuse for avoiding Nancy. 

Figuring she would worry about it later, Christine decided to get ready for bed. She shoveled all of her books into her bag, and double checked that the front and back doors were locked. The bathroom light flickered annoyingly—too dim, too yellow, then bright enough to blind her as she brushed her teeth. She smacked it to limited effect, and made a mental note to change the bulb sometime soon. 

She slipped under the covers, stretching slightly so she could turn off her lamp. And just before she could, the light flickered, and went out. 

Christine paused. A glance out the window confirmed that there couldn’t be a blackout. The streetlamps were still shining brightly, and a few of the lights were still on next door. She listened carefully, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Just the clicking of her alarm clock, the gentle rumble of the heater. A dog barked somewhere down the block, but besides that, it was silent. 

Nothing stood out, except for the uneasy prickle on the back of her neck. She did her best to ignore it, and pulled the blankets a bit tighter around her.

[iadorayou-blog]

Hide - Chapter 7

previous          next          chapter listing

We went into the pool bathroom and Lance handed me a baggie with messy blue sharpie labeling the contents ‘clean undies’ I pulled out the only pair in the bag, “Lance, I thought you said you had multiple pairs! I can’t take your only extra pair of clean underwear.” He just ignored me to rummage through his bag again pulling an almost identical baggie to the one he handed me out

“Keeping everything separated is more sanitary.”

“Makes sense,” I shrugged as I entered a bathroom stall to change and Lance did the same.

We left the pool and started heading back walking just the way we did before, hand in hand, except surer that the other wanted the same thing.

We got back and found Hunk, Pidge, and Shay in the same room we left them in. “Hey Hunk, can you take Keith and me to my house he’s staying over.”

“Lance, I hate to be the dad here but, you and Keith are drunk you shouldn’t do anything…” he lectured.

“Don’t worry, Lance and I agreed to not do anything until we talk about things sober because we are drunk. We’re just gonna watch movies and eat food.” I interjected.

“Wow that’s very mature of you guys, I’m proud.” Hunk faked tearing up.

“It was Keith’s idea,” Lance began, “which I agreed to because I am just as mature as Keith is!” He sounded like he thought he had to defend himself.

“Okay I’ll take you but can you wait a little longer it’s only like 9:30 we’ve been here like an hour and thirty minutes.”

“Oh come on Hunk, you said yourself that Lance only came bc you told him Keith was coming and Keith only came bc you got Allura to tell him that Lance was coming. Take the idiots home!” Pidge yelled.

Lance gasped and he turned to me, “Yo we were tricked, I mean I don’t mind because I enjoy the end result but, yo we were tricked!”

“Pidge, they weren’t supposed to know that!” Hunk groaned at her.

Pidge took off her glasses to clean them, “Sorry I can’t hear you I don’t have my glasses on.” She deadpanned.

“You don’t even need them you’re not blind Matt have them to you when he got contacts and you got the lenses replaced!” Hunk sighed, “whatever guys, Shay I’ll be back I’m gonna take these two losers home.”

“See you soon Hunk!” She replied cheerfully.

The three of us walked to Hunk’s car while he grumbled, “why do I always have to be the designated driver,”

“Because Hunk you don’t drink,” Lance answered his rhetoric.

“Because it’s terrible for your liver! It’s not even enjoyable, you just get all dizzy and confused and you wake up with a headache in the morning.” Junk ranted.

“Not me I have fun when I’m drunk and then I wake up sober and have more fun.” Lance once again replied.

Hunk just sighed in response he had given up on trying to lecture the boy. The drive was only about five minutes but it would have been too far to walk.

“Okay boys,” Hunk started in a mock mothering voice, “be safe don’t stay up too late don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! And remember mommy loves you!” He joked.

“Uh, we already have done stuff that you wouldn’t do but love you too, mom.” Lance played along as we walked up the sidewalk leading to his door. Hunk just stared at us blankly as he slowly rolled up his crank window.

Hunk’s car is exactly how I imagined, a really old minivan but in pristine condition. He replaced the stereo system with a newer system that can connect to his phone through Bluetooth. Lance said the windows were all broken when he bought it but he fixed them up so now they all roll up and down. He also replaced the fabric seats with a fake leather.

Lance’s house was nothing like I expected, we were only a few minutes from the suburban neighborhood the party we were just at was in but this area was much more rural. The property seems to be mostly land with a short picket fence bordering it all. In his backyard, I could see smaller fence pens walling in small groups of animals. Further back there was a small building resembling a barn where I imagine they kept the animal that wouldn’t fit in the fenced pens. The house was a pretty pale blue with white trimming. It had a high rise porch with a closed off crawl space. There was a moderate sized hole in the criss-cross pattern blocking off the underside of the porch.

Lance let go of my hand to unhook the latch holding the front gate closed. He opened it up, gestured for me to walk in and then closed it after himself. He grabbed my hand again and said “welcome to my humble abode.”  

As we walked closer to his house a small gray cat crawled out from the small hole under the porch and ran right up to us whining. Lance immediately goes to pick it up, “Blue, what are you doing outside again?” He asked the cat whilst holding it like a baby. “Keith, meet Blue, my baby girl. You aren’t allergic to cats are you?” He asked directed at me this time.

“Oh no, I’m not. I don’t often play with cats though, do I just pet her?” I asked him.

“Well, you have to let her smell you first so she knows you don’t want to hurt her. But then you can just scratch the top of her head.”

“Okay,” I slowly reached my hand out to her face she smelt me and then visibly relaxed and rubbed her face against my hand. “So why is she named blue?” I asked as I scratched the cats head.

“Oh that’s because she’s a Russian blue, also she first came around when we were painting the house and she got paint all over her fur and we had to clean her up and she’s stayed with us since.” He smiled at me.

“Ah okay, that makes sense. I thought you were gonna say something like ‘well blue is my favorite color.’ But that’s cute I like that.” I said

“Actually blue is my favorite color, but that’s not why I called her that. It amused me that a Russian Blue cat decided to roll around in our blue paint.” He looked at his cat lovingly. “I’m gonna hand you the keys because I have to carry her in she knows she’s supposed to be an indoor cat.” He shifts blue to where she’s only in one arm to dig in his pockets for the keys and then toss them my way.

I unlock the door and let Lance walk in before me he sets blue down on the couch as I close the door behind us. The inside of Lance’s house is much more like what I imagined. Everything was a nice warm tone, the walls were a toned down sunset orange with red roses painted on the white baseboards. The wood floors were stained a deep burgundy color. The couch was a mixture of gold and beige and looked a few years old but still extremely comfortable near it there were matching chairs all surrounding a coffee table made of recycled and repurposed wood. As I scanned the room there was a cross stitch banner that read ‘mi casa, es su casa.’ above the door. In the farthest corner to the right, there was an old piano, the top of it was being used as a shelf to hold various family pictures. In the other far corner, there was a doorway I later learned led to a bathroom. Between the two corners was a large archway that led to the dining room and kitchen. Almost every wall had framed school pictures and childhood drawing to go with them. Messy flowers, bowls of fruit and redrawn family portraits. Lance’s mother kept every piece of artwork the school probably made Lance and his siblings draw throughout the years.

As I look at all the framed pictures around the room I find one of Lance in elementary school he had the hugest smile and he was missing his front two teeth. Lance came up and hugged me from behind and wrapped his arms around my stomach and I leaned into his warmth. He rested his chin on my shoulder and spoke, “right before that picture was taken I pulled out my two front teeth because I was tired of them being there. I wasn’t gentle either there was blood on my face that the teacher had to wipe off before I was allowed to take my picture. Apparently having a child have blood on their face in the yearbook was against school policy.”

In the corner closest to the door we’re some stairs and in the other front corner, there was a Christmas tree, “Lance, as much as I would love to hear the story behind all of these pictures what I’m really curious about is the Christmas tree over there? Like it’s August why is there a Christmas tree out?” I spun us around in the direction of the tree.

“Ah see my family love plants but we all have allergies so we can’t keep them in the house and my mamá always says that it’s the best tree to have. She loves God and every year she makes us read these stories about how Christmas trees are meant to be a reminder of God. So for her, it isn’t just a seasonal thing. Don’t worry though she’s not like the Westboro Baptist church or anything, she’s really accepting and kind.” He explained.

“She’d be okay with me, a full-fledged gay, being here right? Does she know that you’re… ya know?” Also, where is your family?”

“Uhh, yes, no and tonight is date night for my parents and none of my siblings live at home anymore.” He paused to turn our bodies to face the door still hugging me from behind, “See that sign right there,” he pointed to the cross stitch banner I had noticed earlier, “it says ‘mi casa es su casa’ which in Spanish means ‘my house is your house’ something that my family lives by. Basically, anyone who is important to any family member is always allowed here. Which is why I didn’t have to ask if you could come over our rule is our doors are always open to guests unless otherwise specified.” He paused again to release me from the hug and make me face him, “basically what I’m trying to say is, you’re welcome at any time and make yourself at home.”

“Lance, can I ask you something?” He quickly nodded in response. “Why haven’t you come out?”

He took a deep breath before slowly beginning, “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. I know that my parents and siblings won’t care. But all of my family is from Cuba, which isn’t exactly known for its gay rights… I guess I’m just scared I’ll be looked at different, and I don’t want to hide this side of me from them but I don’t want anyone to try to change me.” He said weakly.

“I get that, I mean I can’t relate but I understand what you mean. Don’t worry Lance, you can come out when you’re ready. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” I rubbed small circles in his hand trying my best to be comforting.

“Thank you, Keith, I always feel ashamed that I don’t have the courage to tell my family, some people think it’s because someone is ashamed of being LGBT but I’m so proud to be bi like it’s a huge part of me. It’s just scary because you can’t help but wonder if the people who are most important to you will think of you differently.” He rested his forehead against my shoulder.

“Lance there’s no need to thank me. I like you I want you to feel happy and comfortable. I want to reassure you and help. And the people who think being in the closet equals being ashamed of who you are, are dead wrong. You can be the proudest person in the world and still be scared of how the people around you might react.” I started to rub his back as to tell him everything would be okay, “Lance I’m gonna be here for you okay.”

“You’re the sweetest person in the world,” he lifted his head and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek, “so what kind of movie do you wanna watch?” He suddenly regained his confidence.

“I don’t know I’m not really a movie person, I’ve mostly watched older movies. Like back to the future or all the old Star Wars movies.” I told him.

“So you haven’t seen love, Simon?” He asked quickly.

“Nope, what’s it about?”

“It’s gay and we’re watching it. How do you like your popcorn?” He led me to the kitchen and started rummaging around the shelves. “We have cheddar cheese, movie theater butter, caramel corn, and extra butter.”

“What’s the difference between movie theater bitter and extra butter?” I asked him.

“Movie theater is more salty and extra is more classic butter taste.” He explained.

“Uh that doesn’t help me, you choose anything but caramel corn.” As I said that he whipped around suddenly to face me.

“You don’t like caramel corn?” He shouted.

“I’m more of a savory guy, plus I like to keep my sweets and savories separate and corn is like inherently savory already.” I elaborated as he continued to stare at me blankly.

He sighed, “I guess everyone is entitled to their opinion even if it’s wrong. We’ll have cheddar.” He finally announced walking to the microwave and popping it in.

“I’ll tickle you again.” I simply stated.

He pulled his arms up in front of him defensively, “No need your opinion is valid and so are you!”

“That’s more like it you get a kiss on the cheek.” I smiled at him.

“What if I want a kiss somewhere else?” He pouted crossing his arms over his chest.

I shrugged, “I mean how can I object?” I leaned in for a quick peck on the lips and he rested his arms on my shoulders. The sweet chaste kiss gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling. I pulled back and opened my eyes to the tan giddy boy in front of me smiling like he had everything he ever wanted. I was surprised when that smile turned into an uncontrollable giggle. I fake frowned at him, “why are you laughing we just kissed?”

“Your face makes me laugh.” I stared at him confusion all over my face.

“Okay, no more kisses for you then.” I jokingly scolded and backed away, but he just followed.

“No, come back,” he whined “your face is cute and it makes me laugh. Not like ‘haha that’s so funny’ laugh, an ‘aw he’s so adorable’ laugh. Like it’s just a joy-filled gut reaction. Now come here and give me more kisses.” He begged as he leaned forward, puckered up, and closed his eyes waiting for me to join him.

I connected our lips once again going for a more passionate kiss, I rolled his bottom lip between my teeth before I brought our lips back together and pulled away. He tried to come with me but I held him back. “Sorry lover boy, we agreed we’d keep it at kisses until we’re sober.”

“I know you’re right, you’re just fun to kiss. I wanna steal all the kisses. And more. But we can wait.” Lance was startled by the loud beeping of the microwave telling our popcorn was ready.

Lance poured our popcorn into a bowl and grabbed two bottles of watermelon Powerade, “step one of Lance’s hangover remedy: carbs and electrolytes.” He tossed me one of the bottles, “I hope you like watermelon because that’s the only flavor we have also hydrating with drinks high in electrolytes is like the most important part. I don’t want you to be grumpy in the morning so drink up. Also, follow me to my room.” He sauntered into the living room towards the stairs and waited for me to catch up. I followed him up the stairs and he opened the first door in the upstairs hall.

“Welcome to my room, the bathroom is right over there. Also I’m gonna build us a fort because I don’t like getting into my bed before showering so I’m gonna get the extra bedding and make us a fort and then after we eat our popcorn and finish the movie we can shower and snuggle up in the bed, maybe watch more movies depending on how we’re feeling.” He rambled before leaving the room to get fort supplies.

As I looked around this room definitely was Lance’s. The walls were a dark calming gray-blue. On the wall behind his bed he had neatly arranged Polaroid pictures of beautiful landscapes, him with friends, and other various pictures I assume he took. The tops of his walls were lined with dim blue string lights. The wall by his desk was covered in theater posters and playbills. His desk had shelves housing multiple childhood sports trophies, t-ball, soccer, track, and swim. He had post-it notes with reminders littered all around his desk, things like ‘don’t change for others’ and ‘if you don’t study for math you’re a loser and I hate you.’

“Okay, here’s how we’re gonna do this,” he began and we set up the fort, we made a comfortable cushioned area using blankets and pillows and then placed one end of a sheet on Lance’s desk and the other stretch out to the ground. “Okay now, you get in there and I’m going to hand you stuff.”

After handing me our food an extra blanket to cuddle under and his laptop, Lance finally joined me in our little fort. “You're like a pro fort builder, Lance do you often bring guys up to your room and build forts with them?” I joked while snuggling up to his side as he pulled up the movie.

“Well, you're not the first person I have built a fort in my room with,” he plays along.

“So who was the first?” I asked partially feeling insecure and partially genuinely curious.

“My niece and nephew. However, you are the first person over 10. Also the first boy I’ve kissed. I've always wanted to build a fort with someone of romantic interest but my ex-girlfriend didn’t want to do the cute fun couple things. She just wanted to have sex and go shopping, and by go shopping I mean to have me pay for things she wanted.”

“Lance I’m so sorry she sounds like a bitch, I would totally fight her.”

“Thanks, you don't have to though, we've only been talking for a week and you've already been better than her. Right away you made it clear that you didn’t want to use me. She just made me think that she would be the only person who would ever want me. I was afraid of losing that, but then Pidge caught her cheating and her and Hunk lectured me for like an hour about how shes terrible for and to me and then I broke up with her and I know I deserve better now.” he smiled at me.

“Seriously? I hate it when people lie especially to their partners like that's messed up.”

“It really is, but enough about my tragic love history shall we start the movie?” I nodded.

He started up the movie and Simon, the main character, started by explaining how normal his life is.

“Hey! Morning! It's Simon! I live right here! I like your boots! Okay, bye!” Simon yelled across the street to a boy working on the yard of another house not even hearing Simon.

Lance chuckled, “That's me trying to flirt with you.”

“Oh shut up I respond to you flirting with me,” I told him.

“Now you do, I meant before you talked. You were completely in your own little world.”

“I mean yeah I kind of was but, I also thought you were way too cool for me.” Lance reached to pause the movie.

“So what changed your mind then?”

“Nothing. I still think that but then you came out during class, and all this time I thought you were straight it made me feel like I had a chance because I knew you wouldn't just shoot me down because of things that aren't up to you. I kind of just said ‘maybe he has low standards’ and then Allura told me she'd give me food if I manned up and talked to you. I'm really happy I did. You're really the sweetest guy in the world.” I confessed my face cherry red.

Lance stared at me for a moment each second feeling longer as they passed, “Well, first of all, you're wrong you're really cool and kind and cute. And second of all glad to know you can be bribed with food.” I didn't even have to look at him to know there was a smirk on his face, you could hear it in his voice loud and clear.

“Wipe that smirk off your face loverboy, let’s get back to our movie.” I smiled up at him.

“Only if you give me a kiss,” he said smirk still there.

I leaned in, “Glad to know you can be bribed with kisses.” We connected lips for the third time that night each one felt just as good if not better than the previous.

[20straveling]

Anotha One (List of Activities that are C19 Safe!)

I can count on both hands, and some toes, the number of COVID19 emails and articles I’ve seen talking about all the things to do during our current global situation. Their lists (yes, from the marketing people) have been:

- subscribe to this new service ($$$)

- shop our online sale! ($$$)

- sign up for this service to read articles for “free” ($$$)

And I was pretty disappointed by most of the emails I was reading...but there were a few that warmed my heart a little.

- free delivery and no service fee when you order from local restaurants

- all proceeds of ____ sale are going toward helping homeless or those in poverty receive the supplies that are currently unavailable to them

and so on, and so forth. These are the companies and groups that I was happy to see in my inbox, knowing that someone was doing something to help the world.

But, we’re human, and we can only do so much for our community and our global family. That’s just reality. And that’s okay!! If you spend the whole time giving, and no time taking care of yourself, then you’ll have nothing left to give.

So, with that in mind: here are some ideas for social distancing and quarantine activities!

At Home Activities:

- Photography! The majority of us have a smart phone and it’s got one (or two, shoutout 11 pro peeps) cameras on it — use that sucker!! Take silly photos with your family (fuzzy or otherwise), snap pics of your plants or collections of things, or even take photos of random stuff in your house (I know you’re bored enough to).

- Editing these photos is also a good pastime, with lots of free apps on smartphones, and online editing software like PicMonkey and similar — have fun playing with filters and stickers and all kinds of creative adjustments

- Online, Virtual Tours! This is such a cool resource that has been taking root in the last few years as accessibility and outreach have been gaining prominence! Many museums and national parks have posted online tours (similar to Google Street View) of their amazing spaces for online viewers around to globe to interact with. Get out there (online), and explore some amazing works of art and nature, alone or with the whole family through a TV!

- Share the love online and talk about the new things you’re discovering to encourage others to take advantage of these great online-passes to some of the worlds best views (on walls or outdoors).

- Read - yep, the easy one. Whether its new blogs from people online, the book that’s collecting dust on your “to read” shelf, or something like Audible where you can listen to a book and still get something else done - feed your brain!

- A good follow-up to reading is writing! Head online for good writing prompts, or even silly games where you can write a story with the help of the whole family, sentence by sentence!

- Online Concerts! Many artists are doing online tours, and you can enjoy some “live”music from the comfort of your own couch!

- I personally love Tessa Violet, and she has created her “Something to Look Forward To” Tour, where she plays her music, and has dance breaks to engage her audience and take polls of what song she should play next

- ReThink a Space: this one’s a little more broad, but if you have an area of your home or outdoor space that feels as stale as the air you’re breathing while staying inside all the time, REDO IT! Now is the time to start that obnoxious project that takes too long! Some of the most obvious spots are:

- Bedroom/bedroom closet - change out winter for spring!

- Guest room closets (because who knows what’s lost in there)

- Office spaces/playrooms (equally busy, equally disorganized!)

- Bookshelves/display areas

- Crafting: now, I know we can’t all run out to a Michelle’s or a Hobby Lobby, but I can almost guarantee that most of us have some form of markers/pens, and maybe a printer (but if not, have faith!)

- Checkout online tutorials for drawing or calligraphy, and get those hands moving! There are plenty of studies about how calming coloring is, and stimulating the brain with simple things like learning calligraphy are perfect for indoor or outdoor activities solo, or with family

- Pictionary! Or the like. There are online prompts if you don’t have the physical game in your house, and websites like Jackbox have online versions so you can play with your friends, without being in the same room!

- Collaging/crafting with outdoor objects: take a hint from the children that keep wanting to bring home spikey balls or a pretty leaf! Sometimes those objects are silly but can create a fun craft! Using some thread or string, and a stick or two from outside, make a hanging wall decor piece or mobile with the things you are collecting on your walks!

- Video games!! Although it’s not an option for everyone, video games are a great time to have some competitive fun between members of the household, and also help to connect online with other friends who are also playing the game

- Steam and Origin are the two main gaming platforms I know of, and The Sims, and other games, are on sale right now to help offer entertainment and connect people digitally!

- Cleaning, which I’m sure we’ve all done a bit of at this point (not judging if you haven’t but here’s your list of ideas!)

- Starting from top to bottom, now is a great time to get that deep “Spring Clean” that everyone talks about this time of year! Dust of the tops of things that you forget about, like picture frames or door frames, and go down from there, wiping down surfaces, cleaning that gross space between your window pane and the screen (it’s disgusting but if the windows are open, you get to breath all that funk), and continue on to dusting baseboards and sweeping/vacuuming/mopping floors

- And disclaimer: I have not done all these things, but I’m still on the “Rethink a Space” part, so there’s stuff all over the things I want to clean...

- Don’t forget to Clorox those popular surfaces we forget about, like light switches, cabinet knobs/handles, and the power buttons for things like a Keurig or other small tech

- write snail mail for family and friends you’re unable to see at the moment! Yeah, technology exists, but there is always something special about hand-writing some fun messages to send to your loved ones!

- If you think ahead, you can make some fun art, and send that along with your letters, as a bit of cheer to spread along to others!

- Find something to research: whether it’s how video games are made, how to grow new plants, the sound in space, or what that cool movie you just watched mentioned! There’s a million resources online, and even in your local library (using Libby, an online library source for e-books, and more!

- Checkout online resources for your everyday habits: gym or yoga studio’s facebook or YouTube, university resources for free classes/access to databases, educational resources for children (often found on library sites)

You may notice that cooking is missing from this list. I realize that grocery shopping is difficult at this time, so I’ve tried to think of ideas that involve resources you already have in your homes/yards. If cooking is your thing, or you’d like to take it up during this time, please, do so!! It’s such a great way to feed your brain and your body at the same time! Checkout online channels like “Binging with Babish” and other food related YouTubers or Bloggers to find new recipes or content. If you need to go out and grocery shop, just remember to be courteous of other’s and take hand sanitizer or Clorox mini-wipes to get those surfaces like cart handles and self-checkout/checkout screens and surfaces.

My brain is tapped out for ideas at this point, as I’m mainly doing the things mentioned above because they fit with my personal lifestyle and interested, but if you guys have thought of or done some things that might interest others, please list them below!! And those with kids: PLEASE, link a Pinterest board of ideas, educational (and FUN) websites you’ve found, or even just some good games/crafts/activities you’ve been trying out! I heard a coworker talking about a scavenger hunt they created that involves the kids texting/collaborating online to complete the outdoor hunt!

Get creative, do the most mundane thing in a new way, and hang in there! And if anyone wants a FT date, or more help researching things, please, let me know! I’m happy to dive deeper or even chat in general to help alleviate some of the adjustments and isolations going on right now - please don’t hesitate to reach out.

List of Links for Interactions/Ideas:

- Kelsey Ramirez (art-based ideas): https://www.kesslerramirez.com/blog/things-to-do-while-social-distancing

- Threads of Fate (wholesome naturalistic community): https://www.thethreadsoffate.com/pages/community-journey-taking-action?mc_cid=1ca95a65b0&mc_eid=3d56a629ef

- Harry Potter Alliance (yes, it’s a real thing, and yes, I’m a member) is hosting an online convention for conversations and events to bring us all together online: https://secure.everyaction.com/BEWi3AjhpEyWzUCDG-V7xw2?emci=21658d3b-0a6b-ea11-a94c-00155d03b5dd&emdi=96ab3eea-876b-ea11-a94c-00155d03b5dd&ceid=2470797

- All Online Libraries, By State: https://www.lib-web.org/united-states/public-libraries/

- Good Housekeeping’s Virtual Tour List (includes Zoos! I didn’t even realize!): 30 Amazing Virtual Tours of Museums, Zoos, and Theme ...www.goodhousekeeping.com › life › travel › best-virtual-tours

- Mashed’s List of Cooking YouTubers (I haven’t watched all, but enjoy most): https://www.mashed.com/146555/ranking-the-most-popular-cooking-channels-on-youtube-from-best-to-worst/

[lilyharvord]

Modern Au Part 3

GATHER ROUND CHILDREN!!! IT’S PART THREE!!!!!!

Pups and Boom Boxes

           What did you even call a guy who you were sort of dating but not really? Cause it sure as hell isn’t boyfriend. Boyfriend is reserved for the guy who you’re sleeping with, or the guy who you let hold your hand when you’re walking around with him. Cal wasn’t that, at least not yet. We had hung out more since New Year’s, but we definitely were past the friend’s stage. So what did you call the stage between those two? We hadn’t… slept together… which meant it wasn’t friend’s with benefits, so what the hell were we?!

           I climb up the stairs to his apartment complex and buzz his room. He picks up a few buzzes later, and breathlessly says, “Get up here as fast as you can, I need your help with something.”

           With a sigh, I yank open the door and then head inside, pulling off my hat and undoing my scarf. Whatever he had done now, I didn’t really want to know. I had come over to have coffee and a serious talk about our relationship.

           As I walk down the hallway toward his apartment, I hear something crash and then him letting out a string of curses. At that, I break into a sprint, thinking somethings happened and he’s hurt. I throw open the door and am greeted by a bunch of mud on the floor, and all over the walls near the baseboards. I raise my brow and then shut the door before calling, “Cal? What the hell-“

           Before I can finish a small object comes sprinting out of the living room and leaps at me. I let out a shriek of surprise and back against the door as a tiny puppy jumps at my feet, and tries to gnaw on my boots. It barks happily and then grabs one of my shoelace and yanks, completely undoing my boot.

           “HEY!” I shout at it, and it freezes for a moment, looking at me with wide surprised eyes. Then Cal comes around the corner, covered in mud. I glance at him in surprise and the pup barks happily and then takes off for him. He smiles wickedly and then says, “Now I’ve got you.”

           It sprints between his legs though and continues through the apartment barking its head off. I stay pressed against the door and whisper, “Why is there a dog in your apartment?”

           Cal pushes his hair out of his face and then sighing, he looks at the disaster that is his hallway and says, “It was sitting in a box in the middle of the park. It’s the runt of the litter or something, cause some asshole just left it there with a sign that said to take it.”

           “SO YOU TOOK IT? Cal, you can’t even manage your own life let own a dog!” I cry as it comes barreling in from the bathroom with one of his shoes in its mouth. Cal let out a groan and then takes off after it, completely ignoring my comment. I follow him more slowly and see him cornering the dog in the living room. It growls playfully, with its butt up in the air and its tail wagging dramatically. Cal crouches down then and grabs it. Immediately, it protested, yipping and howling.

           He shushes it and then carries it toward the bathroom. It’s only then that I notice that it’s covered in mud. Cal holds it out so that it doesn’t get mud on his shirt anymore, and then smiling at me, he says, “Do you want to help me give him a bath?”

           I purse my lips and then look the dog over. It twists its head to the side at that, and then opens its mouth so that its tongue hangs out. I shy away from it a little bit and then say, “Sure, I guess… but Cal-”

           “Great,” Cal says as he starts toward the bathroom again. I shrug off my jacket and shout at his back as he goes farther into the apartment, “But afterward we really need to talk.”

           He starts humming a song as he goes into the bathroom, and I sigh when I realize he’s ignoring that comment on purpose.

           The puppy was by far worse than a toddler in the bathtub. It cries for a solid ten minutes while Cal gets it wet, and then yips and barks while I help rub shampoo into its fur. After that, it tried to leap out of the tub, and once it succeeded, only to land in my lap soaking wet. Cal laughs the whole time though, like this is all some fun game. I grit my teeth and pretend like it doesn’t matter, he’ll get rid of it as soon as he can. Cal knew he didn’t have time to take care of a dog, besides, he really only stays in the apartment half the time anyway.

           As soon as the dog has been washed three times, Cal scoops it out of the tub and wraps it in a towel, talking to it like it’s a child. I sigh and then sit back on my heels while the tub drains. I’m soaking wet, and my hair is a mess, and honestly I was peeved that he was trying to ignore my comments about talking seriously about our relationship.

           He carries the dog out into living room and then sinks onto the couch with it, laughing as it tries to climb out of the towel to lick his face. I stand in the doorway to the living room then, at the end of my rope. I straighten my shoulders and then say, “Cal, we need to talk right now, so stop ignoring me like a two-year-old.”

           He glances at me then with a raised brow and then says, “Okay, start talking then.”

           I squeeze my hands into fists at his cavalier tone, and then inhaling slowly, I go to say what’s been on my mind but I freeze when I realize I have no idea how to talk about this. All of the speech starters I had planned seemed corny and stupid now that I thought about them. He continues to watch me though, his brow raised as he waits for me to speak. I throw my hands up then and shout, “Can you stop looking at me like that? Like you’re expecting something!”

           “You wanted to talk, I’m waiting to see what you want to talk about.” He says carefully as he continues to rub the dog dry. It lays in his lap panting and looking absolutely blissful. God dammit, even the dog was in a good mood.

           “I don’t think we should do this anymore.” I say suddenly. He stops rubbing the dog, and its ears quirk up in curiosity before its head rotates to look at Cal.

           I cross my arms defiantly, and then say, “We’re not dating, we’re not just friends, I have no idea what we are. We’ve dug ourselves a hole, and I don’t want to get stuck at the bottom of it.”

           He sits there, frozen it seems. The only thing that moves is his chest as he breaths slowly and carefully. Eventually he looks down at his lap and then says, “I didn’t realize we weren’t dating, I figured we were just taking it… slow and steady.”

           “Slow and steady? SLOW AND STEADY IS WHEN YOU’VE KNOWN SOMEONE FOR YEARS! We’ve known each other for mabye five months!”  I shout as his comment completely taking me over the edge, making the dog turn and bury its head in Cal’s stomach. He shifts the dog onto the couch and then stands up and says, “We’ve been talking and hanging out. I mean you kissed me on New Year’s and said you liked complicated!”

           “I was in the moment!” I shout back, and the dog whines at the volume of my voice. Cal looks taken aback and then stepping toward me says coolly, “And what about all those times I picked you up and we got food, or that time we sat on a park bench and talked for three hours? Was that just living in the moment?!”

           I glare at him and then say, “That was me trying to figure out what the hell you wanted!”

           “What I wanted? I wanted you to be happy! I wanted you to be give me a sign that you felt the same what that I do!”            “Ugh!” I scream as I dig my hands into my hair and pull at it. This was a mistake; I should have just broken the connection slowly and taking myself out of his life little by little, instead of this abrupt argument. Now I would leave him on a sour note.

           “What do you want Mare? Just tell me and-“

           “I WANT YOU TO SHUT UP AND LET ME THINK!” I scream, and he freezes. In my distraction, I hadn’t seen him coming toward me slowly, his hand out stretched to touch my arm. We both look at each other for a few seconds, me with tears in my eyes, and him with a look of utter pain. I back away from him then and whisper, “I just need… I need space, and time… just… leave me alone for now.”

           He stands there dumbfound, like I just slapped him across the face. He swallows a heartbeat later though and says, “I don’t understand.”

           “I don’t know what I want, maybe I wanted the stupid eighties romance, where you pick me up the convertible after my sister’s shitty wedding, but you weren’t… I just… ugh! I honestly don’t know!” I cry as I turn and storm toward the door. He doesn’t even follow. He’s so shocked by my confession, or maybe he was trying to piece together whatever I had given him. I grab my coat and my shoes and pulling them on though. I grab my bag and then slam the door behind me for good measure when I leave.

           (///)

           No one in my family asks why I came how with red eyes, and they especially didn’t ask when I slammed my door shut and didn’t come down for dinner. I had made a huge mistake. I’d realized that on the subway ride home. I shouldn’t have said those things, I should have just kept my mouth shut and tried to piece together how this whole relationship with him would work. All he had done was just try to keep me happy, and I had thrown it back in his face. Burying my face in the pillow I try to hide the next round of sobs that rise up.

           The door to my room opens, and Gisa clears her throat before saying, “I think you should look out your window.”

           I lift my head and glare at her. She simply nods to my window and then closes the door. I sniff and wipe at my nose before glancing at the pouring rain outside. Sitting up, I push my hair out of my face and then look out at the street below. My eyes shoot wide open and I throw open the window before screaming, “What the hell are you doing?!?”

           Cal smiles up at me and then shifting the boom box to his shoulder he shouts back, “You wanted eighties romance, I had to catch up on my movies before I tried this!”

           He presses play on the machine and then sits there with a shit eating grin on his face as he shouts, “I meant to find a convertible, but the weather kind of screwed up my plans to take you for a drive over the Brooklyn bridge to see the city lights!”

           I sit there for a second, completely shocked, and then I blink and realize he’s soaking wet, and sitting at his feet is the little dog, happily wagging its tail. I slam the window shut and then grab my jacket off of my desk before sprinting out of my room and through our apartment. My mother barely avoids me in the hallway, and demands to know where I’m going, but I throw myself out the front door and down the hall to the stairs. I can feel all of my family’s eyes and then, I can hear them all shouting about following me or not.

           I can barely hide my own smile as I shove the front door to our apartment complex open, and sprint out into the rain. Cal sets down the boom box just in time to catch me as I throw myself into his arms. He presses his lips to mine, and spins me around slowly. The dog barks at his feet, trying to nip at my shoes. I wrap my legs around his waist though, and push his soaking wet hair out of his face before I choke, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking-“

           “You were right though,” he said with a smile as he wrapped his arms around my waist to keep me balanced, “Neither of us really knew what we were doing before we jumped in.”

           I wipe some of the water off his forehead, and then with a small smile, I shake my head and say, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

           He smirks again and then reaches up to press his lips against mine. I cup his face and let him, my heart rapidly pacing in my chest as we do this. Without a doubt my family was watching this, and trying to figure out what the hell I was going to tell them. I hadn’t really told them about Cal, or that I was even really seeing him.

           When we pull away from our kiss, he lets me slide down until I’m on my feet again. I keep my arms wrapped around his neck though. He smiles down at me and then pressing a kiss against my hairline he says, “If you want space, I understand. Just tell me.”

           I shake my head quickly and then say, “I was… I was just frustrated today, and I wasn’t really thinking about what I was saying. I don’t want to step away from you, or whatever the hell this mess is.”

           He laughs at that and then bending over he places his forehead against mine and whispers, “Then are you willing to place a label on this whole thing?”

           “I’m good with hot mess,” I say with a laugh. He laughs as well, and then pressing another kiss against my lips he says, “Hot mess it is then.”

PART THREE!!!!! YAAAASSSSS!!!! AAAAAANNNGGGSSSTTTT!!! I’m so sorry, but I’m also not sorry, cause I can never stay away from it. (: Anywho, part 4 will be a cute little valentine’s day thing, I’ll see when I can get that up. (:

[themaidsin-blog]

Want Spotless Interiors? Go for Professional Home Cleaning

Hi Readers!

I hope you are enjoying the changing weather?

TheMaids.in brings you the latest blog on professional home cleaning and how it can keep your interiors best along with saving your money.

With a very busy schedule filled with personal and professional responsibilities, there is a very small-time segment left with you for thorough home cleaning. The very best thing that you manage to do under these circumstances is to handle all the cleaning tasks with halfhearted that usually fails when it comes to freshness, sanitization, and hygiene. When time is your enemy, relying on professionals for home clean reduces your headache. With professionals, there is surely a relaxation from the hectic schedule and you are less with one tension. The only tension you need to take is booking your cleaning schedule. There is not the tension of the availability of the schedules because the professionals of home cleaning service providers work as per your convenience. They have a proper schedule and team to work to handle your tension with a smile.

Professionals have proper training and equipment to handle your home cleaning task as per your requirements. These experts know all about basic techniques for cleaning along with saving your time and effort. When hiring a professional home cleaning service provider, be sure of the best standards of cleaning. They take off your all cleaning needs including dusting, managing, mopping and even more.

How Professionals Handles Home Cleaning?

Cleaning the kitchen area

Cleaning kitchen as part of home cleaning is the most time-consuming activity and most people hate to do. Let professionals handle your kitchen chores. This includes cleaning the dishes, ledge, sink, cleaning mess inside the microwave, and on the stove. Cleaning of the floors is significantly trailed by wiping. They likewise clear the cooler, expel things from storeroom or kitchen cupboard, wipe the racking, experience bundled, canned products, toss lapsed things. Rely on them to shake and wash the tablecloth, dust surfaces, vacuum or mop floors. The mess is very hard to oversee and regularly this is right around an ordinary battle. The more you disregard the circumstance the genuine it develops.

Regularly the customers go for a week after week tidying as a component of home cleaning. They wipe down surfaces as the tabletops and vacuuming rugs is part of the activity. Moving around the furniture encourages access behind the cabinets, under the seat, or couch

Handling Bedroom Efficiently

The major key to bedroom cleaning is first understanding which tasks to handle first and knowing proper usage of tools and other essentials. That’s why it is recommended to hire professionals as they are experts in these basic details and also have a checklist for every home cleaning segment. This is another significant piece of home cleaning as indicated by specialists because with the unblemished room you can decrease issues identified with dust vermin and allergens. The procedure likewise includes cleaning the furnishings, floors, and the baseboards alongside cover vacuuming. This lessens the odds of sensitivities.

Bathroom Cleaning

A spotless bathroom is the basic piece of home sanitation and the experts provide a lot of exertion right now. If you need week after week home cleaning is sufficient and the group cleans the bath and the sink, wipe different surfaces to evacuate the cleanser rubbish, and forestall buildup. Cleaning of the sink assists with expelling development from toiletries or toothpaste. When cleaning can they add or shower cleaning answers for a bowl before proceeding onward to different regions. Along these lines, the home cleaning professionals get sufficient time to enact and now they can thoroughly clean bowl. They mop floor lasts with the goal that it evaporates to give you an immaculate restroom.

The group discharges cloth storage rooms or cupboards cleaning down racks.

Hiring A House Cleaning Professional Can Save You Money

In the present scenario, it seems like there is an option to save your time when it comes to home cleaning. Hiring a professional for dealing with all your cleaning requirements extending from cleaning bathroom to sink, roof and ceiling. Trust me hiring a professional home cleaning service will cost you once but will save you in the long run.

Adds Life to Property

If you ask any ledge, tub, carpet, and tile, or machine master, they will disclose to you that predictable upkeep will keep your home looking more current longer, and make your rug, washroom apparatuses, and machines last more. Soil, residue, coarseness, and creature hair that isn't tidied up routinely will get worked down into the rug strands. There, it can harm the support, going about as a grating and wearing it out rashly.

In like manner, soil and hard water stores on restroom installations can scratch into the complete the process of, causing them to seem more established than they are. Ordinary, proficient home cleaning will keep your home at a reliably spotless state, setting aside you cash over the long haul as you won't need to supplant or resurface expensive decors and fixtures and covers as much of the time.

Saves Time Means Its Save Money

Surely cleaning the home is a tough task and you cannot even imagine to handle it in mid of the week and you get only Sunday to complete all your chores. Either you can enjoy your day, go and enjoy with your near ones or simply invest the day in-home cleaning. So, here is something when you need to find the best house cleaning service, providers. These professionals will help you in handling your task and save you time that you can invest in something more productive and better. In such a critical case, you get to know the value of time. So, time is even more expensive than money.

Save on Cleaning Essentials:

Proficient home cleaning professionals, similar to those from TheMaids.in will be appropriately prepared and arranged to work with the correct cleaners for each surface in your home. Rather than squandering your cash on at least ten distinctive cleaning items that could possibly work, you can depend on your expert cleaning professional to come furnished with the correct devices for the activity.

Employing home cleaning services with prepared experts who realize how to clean adequately with the correct apparatuses for the activity can set aside your cash on provisions, yet in addition spare you the substitution cost of decorations or machines that become harmed with insufficient or wrong utilization of cleaning items.

To hire the best home cleaning professionals for your needs in Delhi NCR, visit us at https://www.themaids.in/

[moneyformama]

How to keep your house clean (with little kids)

If your reading this, your curious on how its possible to even survive with little kids let alone keep your house clean. Trust me, I am in the same boat. Some days I can hardly get the breakfast dishes clean and by the end of the evening, the whole sink is piled high with crusty, pots and pans. With this method there will still be those impossible days, but it will make those days just a little less impossible and a little less chaotic. I have found that a little bit of discipline often goes a long ways, it is so easy to let go of everything because you already have let go of most household chores. This is our perfectionistic tendencies. It is the tendency to either be completely put together, or let every single little thing get out of control. This allows us to fail perfectly...or feel as though we are failing even though we are not.

Balancing bathtime time, housework, bills, cooking, grocery shopping and playtime is an impossible balancing act. We as parents or more specifically, moms, just cannot possibly do everything at once. This is why keeping our house clean (not always picked up) but clean, can make us feel so productive. As a stay-at-home mom I am home 90% of my life these days, and so the environment that I am in the most can also be the place that stresses me the most. I know, I know, your thinking but lady I have three young children, a baby and a dog that brings mud into the house every time he comes through the doggy door. And to this I say, yes I don't know what you are going through, I only have two kids under three years old and my dog is hardly in my house due to my rough little toddler man. What I do know is that no matter what your story this method will work the same for you as it would for someone with no kids, no husband and even no dog.

Alright, lets get to it.

Every day: Every single morning before 10 o'clock, find time to spiff up the house. This shouldn't be too hard if you do to what I will tell you in step 2. Always finish cleaning up breakfast, and then run around and pick up the house. Make the beds, and fold blankets ect. 

Once a week: Deep Clean

Monday: One day a week (I choose Monday) is laundry day. Do all your loads of laundry throughout the day. Put a movie on for the kids, or have them color while you fold. Make it a fun, relaxing day as much as you can. Usually, I just serve leftovers for lunch and keep putsing along with my routine. 

If you deep clean a few rooms once a week, it never becomes too overwhelming. We will keep this short and simple:

Tuesday: Kitchen appliances, cupboards and grease off kitchen walls (if necessary). 

Wednesday: Bathrooms, dusting and mirrors. 

Thursday:  Vacuum and mop all floors. 

Friday: Pick one thing to organize, it doesn't have to be a long project. Just try to work on it for an hour if possible. 

Saturday & Sunday: Play and relax:)

Once a month: Deeper clean

One day a month I do a even deeper clean. This cleaning day is meant for the chores that you dread the most. Luckily it is only one day a month so you don't need to dread it every single week! Here are some chores I do on this important cleaning day. 

Wash the rugs: I feel like rugs often get thrown aside when it comes to daily cleaning. Sure we vacuum the bigger rugs that do not get sucked into the vacuum cleaner and bust your belt. Oh yeah and the bathroom rugs don't usually look dirty, so we often shake them out and put them back nice and neat. But...as with anything in our house when we have children, who knows what is on the rugs. This is why once a month I wash the rugs on delicate and hang them to dry. 

Tube it up: Put the tube on the vacuum and clean the ceiling corners, fans, light fixtures, baseboards and closets. 

Clean chairs and couches: I don't know about your couch but mine is often smeared with snot, spit, snacks and lets be honest--even a little pee during potty training sessions. My kitchen chairs are also grimy and sticky with spagetti and fruit residue. This requires heavy scrubbing. 

Every six months:

Clean out cupboards: My cupboards seem to get very unorganized even in a week, and as much as I would like to say that I clean out my cupboards every month or even three--I generally don't get around to it. So this is why I shoot for the six month mark. I clean out the sippy cup/ bottle drawer and throw away unlatching tupperware. Wipe down and vacuum the inside of every drawer, nook and cranny. 

Organize closets: I have far too many clothes, so every six months I pack away my summer clothes, and bring out my fall and winter clothes. Then in another six months I repeat the previous. This way my closet is less cluttered and my winter coats are not collecting unnecessary dust. Also, the feeling of getting out your clothes that you haven’t seen in six months is almost like gaining a new wardrobe! 

Kids change sizes so often that you may be getting out and packing away their clothes much more frequently. So if you have already been keeping up on their wardrobe, use this time to look through shoes, wrong sized diapers, hair accessories and other fun things that we tend to collect and keep as mothers. 

Wash carpets: I love this task because more than any other cleaning chore, this chore makes me feel the most productive. There is nothing greater than the feeling of newly washed carpets. Luckily, my mother has an industrial carpet cleaner, but if you have to rent one from your local store or Walmart, it really is worth it. I am always so surprised at how dirty the water in the carpet cleaner is after just one swipe. I usually do one sweep with Dawn Dish soap and Oxyclean. The second sweep I just use water and try to remove all soaps. 

Alright, all done. Now you can easily stay ahead of the dust, dirt and extra stuff lying around your house. If you stick to this schedule, I guarantee you will not be overwhelmed when a surprise visit from friends or family happens...because without fail, company always comes when our house is the messiest!