#trying to seal a little crack. new shower curtain just in case.

[daisywords]

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[jetaime-jespere]

Under The Weather

Some pointless fluff that's been floating around my head for a few days. Also on ao3 🙂

It’s not the usual alarm clock that wakes her this time - the tauntingly peaceful melody that she now associates with being ousted from a dream every morning.

In fact, Emily is hardly awake. Her eyes are still sealed shut, she’s still nestled under the covers because the thought of moving is almost unbearable. Even in her sleep induced haze, the only thing she’s fully aware of is just how shitty she feels, like every part of her body has somehow teamed up against her in unison. What started last night as a subtle headache is now accompanied by a persistent rawness in the back of her throat. The same pain has crept in to settle behind her eyes, and now radiates around her head, like a pair of gnarled hands wrapped and clenched around her brain. But that isn’t the only thing - everything just hurts. Her limbs feel like lead, her throat is now on fire, lips cracked and chapped from the winter air. Her mouth is dry as dust as she grapples for the glass of water Aaron had left on her nightstand hours ago - something he’s done since they moved in together.

Cracking one eye open takes monumentally more effort than it should. The wind rattles against the windows, whistling through the bitterly cold February morning and Emily groans at the prospect of even moving from the safety of their warm bed. A glance at the clock tells her it’s 5:40. Aaron’s side is empty, the sheets cooled, but she can hear the steady pulse of the shower, see the steam curling out from under the door. The cloying pull of sleep is too consuming, the glass of water all but forgotten as Emily groans. The notion of having to get up in less than a half an hour is making her stomach roil in protest.

Instead, she burrows herself deeper into the blankets, wishing somehow this day would somehow restart itself. Her eyelids are too heavy to stay open, even though the looming reality of her alarm hovers over her, along with the daunting challenge of making it through the day. Emily remembers the stack of unfinished case reports left on her desk from yesterday, abandoned in the wake of remembering Ava’s ballet class just a few minutes too late to be early for once. That’s about the time the headache started, subtle enough to temporarily ignore as their daughter happily chattered away in the backseat, little legs kicking against the leather upholstered seat - a story about unicorns and fairies, one Emily could probably retell herself she’s heard it so many times. If only she knew then.

The next thing she’s aware of is Aaron bending down to kiss her awake, fresh from the shower and half dressed in an undershirt, his skin still damp as he murmurs good morning . The whiff of eucalyptus soap and his mouthwash only makes her dizzy as she all but pushes her husband away from her with an ill attempted protest against his affection. “Five more minutes,” she croaks. “S’tired.”

“Sweetheart?” Aaron questions even though he doesn’t have to. He’s no stranger to her indifference to early mornings, the way her arms wind around his neck to pull him close most days when he wakes her with the same kisses, the same sweet nothings in her ear. On the rare occasion when they have more time, he ends up back in bed with her, making the most of a few precious moments. Those mornings are his favorites - the ones where he gets to press her into the mattress, get her leg over his shoulder, seal his mouth against hers to muffle the moans he hasn’t grown tired of hearing even years after he first heard them. But this is different. He figures it out immediately, knuckles brushing against her flaming cheek, skin clammy under his touch.

“Hmmph?” Emily shrugs out from under his touch, the cool hand on her burning forehead a reminder of just how awful she feels. “Five more minutes and I’ll get up.”

Aaron laughs softly, already reaching for his phone on the dresser. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine in a half hour.” It’s a futile attempt; Aaron knows her better than she knows herself by now. Emily doesn’t get sick often, maybe once every few years. But when she does, it hits hard and fast, rendering her inherently useless for a day or two, and they’re all a little thrown off kilter without her. Even though her eyes are closed she can practically see him making arrangements - school dropoff and pickup, soccer practice for Jack, ice skating lessons for Ava. It’s also a Wednesday, the one day a week he spends mostly in meetings as unit chief. It’s the day she picks up more slack around the house, handles the after school activities in addition to her own professional responsibilities. It’s a routine they’ve perfected through trial and error over time.

“You weren’t yourself last night,” he sinks down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress down as he pushes some hair from her face. “You barely touched your dinner. You fell asleep with the light on,” he adds pointedly, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead for confirmation. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Do not,” she argues. It’s becoming harder and harder to challenge him, a battle she knows she’ll ultimately lose. There’s no way he’ll let her out the door let alone into the BAU at this point. Despite the sweat that trickles down her back, her teeth chatter together.

Aaron wraps her into his arms, aware of how she melds against his chest as she seeks the warm comfort of his body. “Do too.” His tone is light, which only manages to frustrate her more. “And you’re staying home today. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

Emily attempts to pull away from his embrace. “I have a meeting too, you know. Jack has practice and Ava -”

“Has ice skating. I know, Sweetheart.” Aaron gently pushes her back down, tucking the blankets around her. “I know their schedule. And yours. We’ll manage.” But he’s already reaching for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asks weakly, succumbing to his insistence. The sky has lightened to a shade of dark blue instead of inky black, the first traces of the winter morning starting to peek through the curtains.

“I’m texting Garcia. If she can take Ava this afternoon, I can get Jack to soccer after my last meeting.”

Emily grumbles while he taps out a message as she runs through her day ahead. There are her own meetings, of course, a slew of chores around the house waiting when she gets home, all the little things that accumulate during the week without fail, over and over. Aaron can almost read her mind as he gets dressed, disappearing into the depths of their closet to pluck a suit from the rack on his side. “Things won’t implode without you, Em. We can survive one day.”

From her place in bed, Emily watches him dress, securing the sleeves of his dress shirt, the jacket stretching across his broad shoulders over the crisp fabric of his shirt. Some days, she can’t believe they’ve come this far. Seven years of marriage has brought its fair share of ups and downs, most recently an ill-timed miscarriage in the days before Christmas. She hadn’t been too far along - ten weeks - but December 23rd was spent at her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped around hers as the news was broken, their eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. They hadn’t been trying at all. It was a surprise neither of them expected, which only seemed to worsen the blow when it abruptly ended. Emily had been the picture of composed, smiling through her grief on Christmas Eve, distracted by Ava and Jack’s excitement, the endless mountain of gifts to smuggle from their closet under the tree, only to spend the early hours of Christmas morning crying in his arms until he rocked her to sleep. She closes her eyes, wills herself not to think of it. It’s still a little too soon.

When he’s fully dressed, traces of cologne lingering in the air, Aaron gathers a box of tissues and fills a glass of water, setting both down next to Emily. “I’ll bring you some toast before I leave. You need to eat something.”

“You need to wake -”

“I’m already -”

“Mommy?” The voice outside the door tells them at least one more Hotchner is already awake. Aaron drops a quick kiss on Emily’s head, frowning when he notes how warm she is. He makes a mental note to bring some ibuprofen with the toast and opens the door just a crack to find their daughter on the other side, fully dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Where’s Mommy?” He’s met with the round, concerned eyes that belong to Ava. Even at six, she could be Emily’s clone, with sleek dark locks and the same pale skin. Ava is precocious, sharp as a tack yet sensitive, hesitant to trust but loyal to a fault. Her arrival in the world had been dramatic, at one point downright terrifying for a few minutes, shoulder dystocia to blame. Aaron had turned ghostly pale as the doctors rattled off medical jargon he’d only ever seen dramatized on primetime television. Yet it was that same efficiency and urgency that ultimately brought their daughter safely into the world a short time later. The moment she was placed in his hands, Aaron was completely smitten, his world forever changed.

“Mommy isn’t feeling well, Ava.” Aaron explains with an abundance of patience, his tone soft and reassuring. In the days after Christmas, following the miscarriage, Ava had been confused when Aaron took Emily’s usual place at the new, massive dollhouse from Santa, doing his best to display the same enthusiasm his wife so effortlessly showed. He’d uttered the same words - Mommy isn't feeling well - when she protested, complaining about his doll handling skills and seeming inability to make their hair look half as good as Emily did. Even though his placations  held an entirely different meaning then, Ava questioned him relentlessly. Telling a version of the truth had been harder than he anticipated, for more reasons that one.

“Is Mommy okay?” Ava asks, persistent as ever.

“She’s fine, honey. Just the flu. Remember when you had it in Kindergarten? You got to stay home while Jack went to school. Mommy and I took turns staying home with you? You got to eat popsicles in bed and watch TV during the day?”

Ava nods, not fully convinced as she tries to poke her head further into their bedroom. “I guess.”

“That’s what Mommy has, honey. Grown-ups get sick too. So Daddy is going to drive you to school. Aunt Penelope is going to take you to ice skating lessons this afternoon.”

Ava squeals with delight at the mention of Garcia, clapping her tiny hands together, only to have the expression melt off her face seconds later. Then she frowns. “But Daddy,” she whispers slowly, her resemblance to Emily and similar mannerisms uncanny, as if profiling him even at the tender age of six. “You don’t know the Good Morning song.”

Aaron checks his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he peers into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door is still firmly closed, indicating his son is most likely still sound asleep. Waking him is the next battle, one of his least favorite tasks as of late. “What song, Ava?” He sighs, not missing the fleeting touch of amusement that crosses Emily’s face from across the room, the softest of laughs. Even in her current state, pale and tired, clearly more than under the weather, Aaron thinks she’s stunning.

“Mommy and I always sing the Good Morning song on the way to school.” Ava folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. “If you don’t know the words -” Her dark eyes double in size, widening impossibly as she stubs her toe with disappointment. “How can you drive me to school?”

“Honey -”

“Mommy knows all the words.”

“Ava - “

“Daddy.” She challenges, sticking her lower lip out in a whiny pout. Aaron knows what’s ahead. Even though Ava has him completely wrapped around her tiny finger, their daughter absolutely adores her mother, never missing an opportunity to steal a few quiet moments together. He often finds Ava curled in Emily’s lap, listening to a story, or playing dress up with some of Emily’s old clothes. Aaron has caught a few misplaced tubes of lipstick hidden in her dress-up box, ones Emily thought she lost long ago. He’s seen the pictures she draws, the way Ava always draws Emily next to her in each one. It tugs on every single one of his heartstrings, every single time.

“Mommy will teach me,” he assures her, crouching down to her level, bringing her to lean on his knee. “Daddy will do his best to know all the words before I take you to school.” He ruffles Ava’s hair as she beams, seemingly appeased by his effort. “Can you be my special helper this morning and wake Jack for me?”

Her face brightens instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the thought of what she’s being asked to do - something that, most of the time, she’s actively told not to do. “Okay!”

Aaron grimaces slightly as Ava skips off down the hall. There’s a finite window of time until he’s left to deal with Jack’s morning moodiness, exacerbated by his sister’s surprise wakeup call. But it’s worth the few extra minutes he’ll get to spend with his wife. Emily is now fully awake, looking even more miserable than she had moments before.

“You’re on your own for the good morning song,” she rasps sarcastically. Her voice is hoarse, even as she tries to smile. “Couldn’t sing it for you if I tried.”

“I think I’m going to take her for donuts. Those strawberry frosted ones she loves?” He slips back in bed beside Emily, pulling her into his arms once again. “Distraction at its finest.”

“The ones I love,” Emily reminds him, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Right. Hopefully she’ll forget all about it.” Then he remembers just who he’s talking about - a miniature version of the woman he somehow got lucky enough to call his wife, instantly realizing how wrong he is. He’s a goner; he won’t hear the end of this for days.

“I doubt it. But you can give it a try.” Emily snuggles into his chest, savoring their final few minutes of peace.

…

Winter sun streams through the windows, casting the bedroom in a mix of shadows and blinding light.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed - an hour could easily be three, maybe five. Sleep has consumed her, on and off all morning. Yet she’s uncomfortable, alternating between throwing the covers off and disappearing into them, unable to seek enough warmth as she reaches for one more blanket. Everything still hurts, and topped off by a congestion that settles deep in her lungs, rattles her chest with every cough. She almost feels worse now than she did earlier, if that’s even possible.

The house is quiet, so she hears the subtle rumbling of the garage opening, the soft creak of the door leading into the house. Emily smiles to herself - she’d recognize his footsteps anywhere as he makes his way through the living room. He’s undoubtedly picking up wayward shoes and toys along the way, most likely grumbling about the clutter. He’d never admit it (even if she knows it to be true) but it’s one of his favorite tasks. The mess is a reminder of what they’ve built over time, that sometimes things work out just as they were meant to. Even if it means their house will never be spotless.

She pries one eye open as he shoulders through the bedroom door, slipping his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “You could have stayed at work.” Emily isn’t surprised at all. She knows him sell enough by now.

“I know.” And while Aaron is fully aware of that, there was never a chance he wasn’t going to come home to tend to her. He stayed at the BAU long enough to get things squared away, arranging plans for the kids, and delegating tasks as needed before making a hasty exit. And now, only a few hours later, he’s back. He checks her forehead, refreshes the glass of water on the nightstand and tosses some tissues into the trash. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily shifts to make room beside her. “Worse than before, if that’s possible.” She sighs a little when he wraps her into his embrace. Her head falls against his chest on its own accord. “Ava and Jack?”

“Garcia is taking Ava to ice skating. She’s taking her out for ice cream afterward.” He gets a hand in her hair, rocks her back and forth a little bit until she relaxes fully against him. Almost.

“What about dinner?” Emily mumbles, stifling a cough into her fist. It rattles within her chest, reverberating through her ribs. “She needs real dinner, Aaron.”

“I think she’ll live without vegetables for one night, Emily.”

She’s too tired to argue. “Jack?”

“Dave offered to take him to soccer,” Aaron says, patting her back through the last of the coughing fit and grappling for the water glass on the table. “It’s all taken care of.” His hands are soothing, gentle and strong against the sore, stiff muscles. “You sound terrible.”

Emily pointedly ignores him. “What about you?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too,” he adds with a wink, taking her hands in his own when she starts to object. “I’m making it my mission to get you better.” He shows her the package of popsicles he’d stopped for on the way home, tosses the bag away to the floor. “And I got some of these. Just for you.”

The soft laughter that comes from her is accompanied by yet another hacking cough. It’s the little things he does that are the most thoughtful - a pit stop to the grocery store in the middle of a work day is just one example. “Sounds like you have quite the job ahead of you.” But she’s eyeing the popsicles - it’s the first thing that’s sounded appealing all morning.

“You’re not an easy patient,” Aaron chides as he hands her a cherry flavored one, taking a lemon flavored for himself. “One of the worst I’ve ever dealt with, actually.” He flicks her nose lovingly.

“Is that so?” The cool chill of the frozen ice against her lips and throat is a temporary relief, a moment of reprieve. She doesn’t even notice when a little piece of it breaks off to leave a tiny red stain on the sheets. “You’re no picnic yourself, you know.”

It’s his turn to laugh, because she’s right. He’s just as stubborn, the art of rest and healing lost on them both. “I feel called out.”

“It’s because I’m right,” she quips. And she is.

Emily sleeps fitfully in his arms, only waking up once as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. When her eyes drift open, he has the television remote in one hand, the other anchoring her across his chest. “What time is it?” She mumbles, blinking furiously as her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Close to five.” He kisses her, rocks her a little to wake her up. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.” Aaron sounds almost pleased that she finally got some solid rest. “I’m going to make you some soup. And don’t tell me I don’t have to.” He untangles himself from her, somehow without disturbing her comfort within their bed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

His fingers brush across her cheek; she’s not as hot to the touch this time. Emily leans into his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you for coming home.” She hardly sounds any better, certainly doesn’t feel it either. But having him there somehow makes it slightly more bearable, an unexpected silver lining to all of this. And the reverence in his eyes, the same one she sees every time he looks at her, confirms the fact that he’d do it without question. Another example of the unconditional love he’d promised years before when they exchanged vows in Dave’s backyard.

“There’s nowhere else I should be, Sweetheart.”

Four days later, Aaron wakes up with the same aching muscles and raw throat, barely able to keep his eyes open as a new week awaits them. Emily is only more than happy to return his favor.

[jae-bummer]

Lay Your Head On Me

Request: Would you mind doing a fluffy Jooheon scenario? Like a daily thing full of happiness and fluff like the Changkyun gummy bear one! I would have to punch a bunny to be normal again, but I'm too peaceful and uwued by that XD

Pairing: Monsta X Jooheon x Reader

Genre: Fluff

“Jooheon...Jooheon, I know you’re awake,” you whispered into the darkness of your bedroom. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but the streetlights outside had no problem causing a dull glow among the blankets covering you

“And so?”

You chuckled to yourself as you nuzzled your face under his chin and smiled. “No matter how long you pretend to be asleep, it doesn’t mean you won’t have to leave.”

“Who’s leaving?” he muttered sleepily. “You leaving?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you hummed. “You have to go to practice.”

“What time is it?” he groaned, still not moving a muscle.

“Four,” you sighed. “Or at least it was four the first time your alarm went off.”

“What alarm are we on?” he asked quietly. His eyes remained sealed shut.

“The last one was the third,” you confirmed. “And we are working on the fourth.”

“Does that mean my alarms did better at waking you up than they did me?” he chuckled.

“That is exactly what it means,” you hummed. “And don’t pretend to be surprised. I’m almost positive we have this same conversation every time you spend the night.”

“So, this is the part where you begrudgingly get up and run me a hot shower…right?” he whispered. You could hear the amusement in the sleepy husk of his voice.

“I think you were still dreaming when you thought up that part,” you croaked.

Jooheon released a heavy sigh as he cracked one eye open, slowly followed by the other. “Well you look cute.”

“Everyone is cuter in the dark, Heony,” you muttered. “And if you think flattery is getting me out of this bed and starting a shower, you are very, very wrong.”

“It was worth a try,” he murmured, slowly pulling his body out of your grip. You let out a small whimper as you were met with bare sheets, still warm. “Now you can’t complain that I’ve gotten up after telling me to do that very thing, Y/N!”

“I know,” you grumbled. “I’ll just miss your warms.”

“Miss my warms,” he scoffed, scooting himself off the edge of the bed. “Won’t miss the man, but will miss the body heat attached. No respect.”

“You sure are cranky,” you chuckled. “You want to get back in the bed so you can get out on the right side?”

“Getting out of either side of that bed means I’m going to be grumpy,” he pouted. “How would you face the prospect of walking in the cold three blocks to go dance and sing until your whole body is sore?”

“You sound like a grandpa,” you murmured. You put on your best impression of an old man as you continued. “Back in my day, I had to walk 23 miles to get to school, uphill, both ways.”

“Aish,” Jooheon spat, shaking his head as he shuffled from the room. “No respect from this one, I swear.”

“I’ll start coffee!” you called after him, before continuing more quietly. “In like, five minutes…”

You nuzzled yourself into his pillow and took a deep inhale. Even when Jooheon didn’t have any cologne on, his natural scent was comforting. It was a mix between laundry detergent and his face wash. Seeming to be a normal combination to everyone else, it had become one of the many things about him that had comforted you since the two of you had begun dating. It was strange to think this was your new normal; rolling around in bed at 4am as he got ready for work, but nothing about being an idol’s partner was even remotely conventional.

.

.

You woke up a bit startled as you heard the pipes in the walls around you struggle to life. With the old apartment building you lived in, most utilities took effort to get working properly. You glanced toward the clock, realizing you must have dozed off for a few minutes after Jooheon had climbed out of bed. Rubbing a little too aggressively at your tired eyes, you leaned up with a groan. Coffee.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the mattress, you found Jooheon’s abandoned slippers, and slid your feet into them. Still cold from being abandoned the night before, you shuttered a bit as you stood. Letting out a yawn and a stretch, you began forward motion past the bathroom and toward the kitchen.

After a quiet struggle with the coffee pot (admittedly on days that Jooheon didn’t have practice, you would pretend to be asleep, so he could deal with it) you finally got it to begin brewing. It quickly began filling your small apartment with whatever blend he had picked up for the week.

Running a hand through your bedhead, you began to waddle back toward the bedroom.

“I can probably get a little more in,” you whispered to yourself, beginning to calculate the exact amount of time you would have if you fell asleep within the next fifteen minutes.

Just as your feet slid past the bathroom, you paused for a moment, the thin slice of light emanating from its confines grabbing your interest.

That, and the sound being funneled out.

“I see you hurt, I see your suffering,” Jooheon’s honey voice broke out over the droplets of water. “You’re not alone, in case you’re wonderiiiiiing.”

You smiled to yourself as you leaned against the wall, listening to the song that had somehow come to define your love.

“Oh, you can come to me. Lay your head on meeee,” he continued, his voice still a bit hoarse from last night’s heavy sleep. He cleared his throat a bit before continuing.

“When you say you’ve given up, when you say you’ve had enough, I’m thinking about you alwaaaaays. I’m thinking about you always,” he trailed, his voice as clear as if he were standing next to you.

You slid down the wall you were leaning against and let yourself plop lightly onto the floor. Leaning your head back against the bare brick, you closed your eyes, quietly urging him to sing more.

Jooheon’s voice was one of your favorites. Whether he was rapping, singing, or even simply talking, it seemed to capture your attention like no other. Guiltily, you could admit whenever you were in conversations with most people you knew, you found your thoughts wandering, thinking towards your own next conversational point rather than really hearing what they had to say. With Jooheon, you were too busy hanging on every word. He had grown so patient with you when you were awestruck by his sound. Whether he was anticipating constructive criticism on a song he was practicing or waiting for you to question a story he had told, he always waited calmly. Just like you valued his voice, you were certain he valued yours as well. 

“The more you love, the more you lose, the more I’m there for you, I’m thinking about you always, I’m thinking about you always,” his voice broke through your thoughts again. “So lay your head on meeeeee.”

You smiled to yourself. Crush’s Lay Your Head on Me was a staple in your household. Crush in general, really. Between you and Jooheon, you weren’t sure who was playing his music more often, but you knew this song had struck a chord. It meant different things between the two of you, but you always found commonality in it. That was how it had essentially became your “couple” song.

Dating an idol wasn’t easy. You both came into contact with tough situations and disingenuous people, but you knew you were always grounded in each other.

You heard the shower turn off, followed by Jooheon’s voice growing even louder as he pulled back the shower curtain.

“And all the ones you thought would stick around...I mean the ones you really...” he trailed. You didn’t even bother opening your eyes as he yanked open the bathroom door, letting out a huff.

“You can’t just creep outside of doorways, Y/N!” he whisper-shouted as he clutched his chest. “I saw your shadow and thought you were a burglar.”

“Wouldn’t a peeping tom be more fitting?” you chuckled, opening one eye to gaze at him. His dark skin was still covered in water droplets and he held a towel loosely around his waist.

“Get up,” he muttered, motioning for you to take his hand. You placed your own fingers in his, allowing for his strong arms to lift you to your feet again.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your voice?” you hummed. He turned around and stumbled to the sink, dragging a comb through his wet hair.

“Have I ever told you that drinking alcohol wasn’t acceptable so early in the morning?” he asked, looking at you through the reflection in the mirror.

“Such a punk,” you grinned, snaking your arms around his torso from behind. The entire front of your clothes would be covered in water droplets, but you didn’t care. You kissed across his shoulders lightly, causing him to sigh.

“What’s gotten into you?” he said softly, spinning in your arms.

“Your voice,” you said, equally as quiet. “And the way you can make songs your own.”

“Oh, so you were listening to me,” he chuckled, his turn to wrap his arms around your waist.

“I always listen to you,” you grinned. “For better or worse.”

“It’s dangerous,” he smiled. “Having so much of one person’s attention.”

“You’re worth it,” you nodded before placing your forehead in the crook of his neck. You knew you would make him late for practice, but a few minutes couldn’t hurt. “Finish? Please?”

You could hear his heartbeat from where you were positioned, and heard his voice even better as he continued without question. The small vibrations in his chest radiated toward your face, enabling you to hear every bit of the sound.

Rocking you gently from side to side, he sang only for you to hear.

“And I know when days are dark and you drown in everything. And I know you try to numb cause you don’t wanna feel a thing. You know you can....lay your head on me.” He paused, placing a light kiss onto your forehead.

“Lay your head on me.”

[isakwon]

MALEVO 2

Pairing: Reader x Got7′s Kim Yugyeom

Genre: Angst

Warning: Violence and swearing

Word Count: 3K                                    

MALEVO 1

       Thank goodness the dark curtains provided with the dormitory shuts the sunlight out from blinding the heck out of your slumber. You adored waking up being completely wrapped with puffy blankets laying softly over the pillows and judging from the silence around you, your roommate must’ve left for work. It all a dream; the last things you remember from that night terror had been your loved ones going missing, getting mysteriously threatened with notes, and the paranoia that stayed behind waking up. Once fear eased down out your stomach, you don’t hear noise come around outside the walls, meaning you are home alone. Being home alone weekend mornings gives the opportunity to do whatever you want and the idea has you excited. Your roommate must’ve gained enough energy after finishing her late night shift and decided cleaning the entire house while you were sleeping, leaving everything looking spotless with the exception of some dirty dishes.  You blindly turned the television on before walking straight toward the small kitchen preparing breakfast. Without watching the screen, the news anchormen discuss over the most recent morning topics.  

 “Our Country Police Department have track down several drug victims using the brand new strategy called ��Operation Hammer”. Both Police and the FBI are using Battering Ram Tanks to tear down houses that has been accused of drug possession in order to stop this devastatingly fast growing rate of crack, cocaine and marijuana. Last night, three houses have been demolished and only one containing bags of what looks like cocaine within every wall, beds, the floor and even the inclusion of illegal weapons.” One female reporter said from the screen.

  “All four owners were arrested with one currently in the hospital due to spinal damage from getting rammed.”  

 You sink down the chair eating your prepared breakfast in front the T.V. displaying the hood streets where police search half demolished homes surrounded with victims dressed in their bathrobes and pajamas, holding children much younger than six years old. One interviewed woman describes her perspective how she was sleeping next to her husband and grand baby, next thing she knew the sounds of big wheels draw closer and closer until suddenly they are left with half a home. A majority of victims face mistaken identity and now shockingly the victims are put with blame. Unfortunately half the victims become unjustified and lose their own case against the police especially when somebody gotten seriously injured and it was so obviously clear the police are at fault.

 “We were scared and it’s just horrible because those kids were in these houses, they could’ve been killed.”

   You stiffen your vision toward the screen that showed police exiting the torn house with little to no expression on them, including the President’s wife escorted by them . Four actual drug abusers are imprisoned and rehabilitate while nothing else will be known about the mistaken victims roaming around the front yard wearily, hugging wailing children. Wondering helplessly what’s gonna happen to them and where they’re going to stay, how their children can get dressed now that their uniforms are covered with dust. You fold your arms across your chest while exhale heavily, shaking you head. Damn was the most you thought to yourself as the reporters moved on to the following morning topic. All scenes similar are the first and last time the victims will be heard from. It was like the justice supreme liked thinking themselves as if their job was all a game of messed up chess, considering themselves as Kings, Queens and Bishops and Knights trying to eliminate pawns that never moved

Many cops knew how their job should be done and how suspects should be treated firstly during interrogation. Others who did whatever they wanted assault on the innocent or for just for any other senseless reason.

  Once breakfast was over you cleaned yourself and dressed into simple shirt and pants, not really having desires to go anywhere today since your roommate left and later tonight you are going out with a date that you haven’t had in forever. Men during junior and high school approached you confessed their past feelings and admitted they were afraid that there was something more grew with your feelings towards Yugyeom.  Your thumb presses the delete contact button under Yugyeom’s contact that now was useless for keeping old messages and dated back call logs. You would stand in the middle of the living room, gripping the phone with your fingers, and planting your feet down facing the door, not wanting to move.

...

“I can’t date anybody cause they feel jealous of you.” 

You grip the steering wheel with both hands on opposite direction, attempting jokes but at the same time being serious toward Yugyeom who keeps eating his boxed food. 

“It’s not that their jealous, your lovers are afraid about what will happen if they make you cry.” He says, bringing the forkful food to his mouth. “Plus they don’t need to worry about us together.”

He picks something stuck in his teeth as you stare at the red dot over your heads. And you purse your lips together breathing through your nostrils. “Yugyeom, do you think someday we’ll stop being best friends?” You ask.

Yugyeom stares onto the side of your face, wide eyed. “How can you think that?”

  “I mean once we’re married, our partners wouldn’t favor friends like us hanging out as much as we do. Even if we bring our time together to a minimum, I’ll be worried your future wife won’t accept me.”

  Your fingers fall down the steering wheel as your heart twists in your chest. Remembering folded surprise notes hidden in your bag. Every note had malicious comments demanding you to find a new best friend. One day returning from being sick, Yugyeom found a paper tack in your change of shoes with the needle facing up the air. You were shocked knowing how someone could do such things to you just because you were close friends with a male this person has a crush on. He grabs your shoulder, rubbing his hand over and you turn your eyes toward Yugyeom.

“Y/N, if our future spouses don’t want to spend time together then they might as well have each other. There’s no healthy relationship if there isn’t any trust.”

Trust was Yugyeom’s best traits, and his trust sometimes amazed you. He never shared secrets and he never let anyone down. Anytime you needed help finishing an essay, he’d help you with research and anytime you thought you would get grounded for something you knew was wrong.

 “Trust me, no matter what happens I promise we’ll be friends forever. You’re like my sister, if anybody breaks your heart, they better pray for themself.” He says getting an amused scoff from you in response. That promise was sealed with a handshake and hug  Yugyeom would cover for you. All that Yugyeom has done for you, you would do for him. One day there would be knocking coming from the door and his figure outline visible from the otherside, waiting for you to open. You press the cancel option below the delete contact option. Yugyeom should’ve been deleted but you just never had the heart to, like removing him from your life.

   His contact still under your thumb following the call button, keeping your thumb hovered and moving back and forth, staring. You waited something from him like a call saying he’s okay, if his family’s okay. You been urging to dial him for so long, without realizing your fingers fumble over the screen, feeling the phone vibrate, just thinking purely about Yugyeom. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, how are ya?” Your boss called, “Say can you come in a little early today?”

He asks you to cover some coworker’s daylight shift. A quiet moan immersed deep down the bottom of your throat just so your boss could not hear- you were just enjoying the morning all to yourself. You had not stayed at home for countless weeks and dearly missed for lounging before you went out. But your boss was such a sweetheart and fun person.

“Thank you. Have a wonderful day.” Your shift comes closer towards the end.

 Upon your arrival he instantly greets and thanks you making your face grow red overhearing his compliments. So far things run smoothly without being too busy, customers seemed to be in a good mood. Half the customers telling you how pretty your smile is and some new coworkers asking advice how to become a better employee. You knew since today is a good day, your date tonight might succeed.

 You greeted and smiled every single customer while wiping tables and chairs. Good thing arriving early provided being released early, giving you enough time to shower, get dressed, redo your hair and apply make up on yourself. The sky blended baby and mid-dark blue turning into one of the most beautiful sapphire blues you had ever seen.

 Probably because he wore a jacket of the same color. His car that you rode was painted the same color. Maybe because you thought the color suits him best. Maybe the color has nothing to do with remembering Yugyeom. Maybe it was the customer sitting down on the patio with a familiar back profile. Whoever the person really was, you can’t help try examining.

 The shoulders were wider by two inches comparing yours, his bowl-cut hair was fluffy and a single loop earring and although the legs are bent and covered with loose jeans, they look swollen. Yugyeom’s legs were slim the last time he was seen. You realize you’re several steps closer toward the customer trying usual questions you ask customers eating at the restaurant and a small part trying to find out the person is Yugyeom.

….

“We can’t go to Haeundae this year.”

Yugyeom said and you adjust the phone over your ear.  “What,how come?”  

 Before, Yugyeom’s disappearance talked about visiting some relatives. For six summer vacations, Yugyeom’s parents always invited you on a road trip to swim at Haeundae Beach usually lasting two weeks on vacation as long as your parents agreed- and they obviously would.

 Now, his parents grew worried and more wary about safety since that drive-by assassination that happened before your eyes. Crime like such seemed incredibly rare happening in such an innocent neighborhood that’s becoming more alert. Since that elder woman mentioned her nearing death, familiar street names appeared on evening news. Reported kidnapping, folks never returning home, and hit and runs. More parents cautiously watched their children and the dog population grew rapidly.

“How long will you be away?”

Yugyeom sounded really gloomy through the speaker, he sounded like he was crying. “I don’t know.”

He tells you grab a pen and napkin and write down a new phone number. He inhales deeply, making sure that you can’t suspect him tearing up but his voice croaked.

   Why is he suddenly getting sentimental ?

“Trust me, everything will be okay. I love and will miss you, loser.” His relieved huff released one out through you, assuring he’ll be okay. He promises that you’d be friends forever.

  “Y/N come on, you gotta clock out.” Your boss waves his hand forward and you gather leftover plates before heading inside the building without even looking back the drive-thru lane and drove all the way home to make in time for your date.

  Nobody could oppose how wearing black looked wonderfully on others. You owned a dozen black dresses and the target aim tonight was another most favorite dress with lace elbow sleeves with soft black percale fabric outlining your figure. You wore over overall natural makeup with brown matte lipgloss and your hair framing your jaw structure. Since today was great so far this date was going really good too. Your date became the center of attention for the night without trying.

  He was cute especially wearing red polo shirt that exposes his chest through glimpses each time he moved while turning his head toward the waiter. Once the conversation passed the usual introduction and profile you went ahead on ordering drinks.

Jinyoung is the first time having a date with after a long period and he was being a gentleman from the start, pulling out the chair, gifting lavenders between you and hasn’t stopped complimenting you. As hours passed Jinyoung’s eyes trot over head down your arms. Your sensual voice flowing pleasantly through his ears and asking to hear your giggle again. His knuckles press into his cheek squishing his eye. He was admiring you with his half smile once you raised your head and smiled shyly. “Yes?”

“You just look beautiful.” Jinyoung responds. He unfolds his fist, flattening his hand against his cheek.

“How can someone like you be single for so long?”

 Heat rushes up your cheeks quickly as your eyelids fall and you curl strands of hair. It was better keeping that question unanswered, not because that’s the ‘date thing’ also because the past men who shared interest always ended. You were just sick over the lacking trust and jealousy living through the relationship with whoever.

The waiter brought two glasses of iced teas, sweetened for you and unsweet for Jinyoung. After ordering appetizers, you excuse yourself to use the washroom. Jinyoung nods, watching you rise until you disappear around the corner. A smile plasters your face with heated cheek buds until someone dressed entirely in denim, wearing a black ski mask exits the men’s room. That person pauses in his tracks and zipps quickly away as you look back behind him entering the restroom. Water droplets float over little frizzy parts of your hair. While silently hoping that this night continues going good, the phone screen brightens with a new message.

[From] Unknown:

         Do not drink the tea.

Your brows knit upward your forehead and you immediately frown. Such a strange message especially from an unknown number. You thought to yourself, “The fu-?”

But the message mentions the beverages you and Jinyoung ordered, how the hell did Unknown number know that the drinks were teas?

Your thumbs begin punching over the keyboard and then another message appears.

[From] Unknown:

          Please do not drink the tea.

  Water drips from the faucet and all you do is reread the two messages saying the same thing. Maybe these messages really are for you, but how does this person know what you’re drinking. Also why. Who is this person texting you, how did they know your number? Are they sitting somewhere in the same restaurant, they had to to know where you are this evening.

So does that mean you’re being followed?

The bathroom door opens again another woman entering as you turn the screen off. You still are fazed the same way you felt earlier in the morning, unable how to think nor when to move. Jinyoung already waited waited more than five minutes, probably, and the food already served without you. Could he be the one warning you about the drink? He did have your number first and knew you were drinking tea and he is sitting in the same restaurant with you.

You throw a bit more water onto your hair streaming down your temples past your ears, taking a deep breath. This whole day was going fine, you think to yourself, everything will be okay hopefully. You excuse yourself to Jinyoung sitting back down.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

 You nodded, trying to wear off loads of paranoia heaved upon your mind and shoulders.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Let’s eat.”

Jinyoung talked about his interests of gothic architecture and popular narrow alley staircases like one called El Callejon De Beso. It interested him because supposedly when couples kiss standing on the red stone where one lovers blood stained, their love would last eternally. Another thing was discovered about your date when he kept cracking wise jokes-and each made you laugh.

  Several more minutes passed talking between eating and Jinyoung drinking between eating. As much as you desired washing food down with something, you didn’t grab for the tea for anything. Those anonymous warning just wouldn’t stop whirling behind your skull, debating if ordering another drink was better. The waiter still hasn’t walked by the table to check nor offer refills yet, not even offering refills for water. Your parents have said when you were younger when you were watching the movies with them where there was a bar scene. When that ended, they told you buy your own drink never let other people buy them however they were alcoholic, something your taste buds cannot stand. Alcoholic drinks tastes super heavy and super light yet all that can taste is the burning liquid, even when their drinks fused with fruit flavors that dissolving sedates have no flavor. Emptiness fills you wholly, glancing at corners all around, suddenly losing interest doing anything and movement in your limbs and your eyes are alert. You could’ve responded with wrong number or just simply turn the phone off, but the pleading from the last message really sounded genuine.

You fling your sight back on Jinyoung gently holding your hand and watching you with concerned eyes. Now that you realized, you hardly remember anything that the conversation was about. You don’t even know if you have said anything, now making you seem rude.

“Are you alright Y/N?”

Jinyoung furrows his brows onto his forehead, changing his frown into a tiny smile that brings another similar from you as deep sighs huff from your nose. Other things occupied the mind too much that attention was taken away and you shook your head and saying that you were okay now. Your dress pocket vibrates against your thigh, most likely another message from the unknown number again, however your mind was elsewhere. Jinyoung lowers his brows relaxed and revealing teeth soon as you envelope touched fingers, using nervousness for makeup paranoia and worry.

“Everything’s fine, this has been a first for me this evening.”

Jinyoung pouts, “Mine too.”

His light chuckle follows afterward slowly releasing your hand, taking gulps of tea where his adams apple bobs up and down.

....

Yugyeom intensely watches his Lord use the other hand for counting the stash bill by bill. His legs tremble from the knees down for his life since the morning from jumping rooftops and smashing windows and from what his lord would say about his short payment. Drug Dealers have similar tasks like every job that makes the sale and receive money which leaves with their boss and in return the ones who succeeded earn minimum wage. Except for dealeing payments are secretive usually exchanged behind the corner store or beside the closest bridge. Sometimes when sales end in fail, the fault was on the customer or the salesperson.

“You did good this time Kim, running away out that dope house that got fucked up. Even if you got caught, that doesn’t mean much shit to me because they got away without paying again.”

He tapped the stash on the table and Yugyeom looks over his shoulders, peering his eyes making them open slits on his face. “Next time, we’ll take care of those people after paying the little strawberry a visit.”

“Anything in it for me?” Yugyeom asked.

Yugyeom never turned short money for his lord because he knew simple ways getting the money. He remembers how cold the device felt in his palms and how far away the paper hung from the other side of the room. In movies and tv shows, actors made things look simple however entertainment intends for scenes to look realistic. Yugyeom stared at the wall and pointed in the same direction the people around him were whining and raising their voices. Calling him too ‘sissy’ to even turn the safety gear off until the material gets snatched from him. He remembers shuttering to the banging sounds inches away from him.

The Lord calls after him. “Hey Yugyeom!”

The sounds of glass breaking startle Yugyeom for the first time in forever. For the first time in forever Yugyeom feels worried as he straps the gun beneath his belt.

 “Shit, she drank it!”

[thelioncourts]

Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki

Author: marrieddorks

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2486

Summary: Jared is the best friend Chad could ever ask for (until the pesky problem named Jensen comes along).

Part 1 of Stepbrothers ‘Verse [AO3]

///

“Do you think he’ll notice?”

The question was asked while standing in the middle of an unbusy suburban street in Georgetown, staring at the tilted and overflowing garbage can sitting precariously on the edge of the curb.

“Oh yeah, he’ll notice.”

“Shit!” Chad started. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, Jared! He’s going to kill me!” As if on cue, it was then that the garbage can decided to topple over, and Chad and Jared watched with differing types of horror as its remains spilled all over the grass and street alike, its crash echoing too loudly in the slow-moving neighborhood. Jared threw an awkward wave to Mr. Carrow, a bespectacled old man three houses down who was outside watering his lawn, his look disapproving and sealed with a sneer.

“How do you even make that much trash by yourself?” Jared asked, turning back to Chad with a sort of awe in his voice that paid no mind to Chad’s current crisis. “You can’t cook, you don’t clean,” his voice trailed. “If there’s a mountain of tissues in that, Chad, I swear to God –”

“Not the time, Jared!” Chad was already on the ground shoveling as much of the fallen trash back into the can as he could, a hysteria in his eyes. “What if we took some of this to your house? We can go get more garbage bags and fill them and then –”

“Sure, Chad, my mom would love that,” Jared rolled his eyes.

“I can’t die yet, Jared! Think of all the things I haven’t done!” Chad yelled, his voice cracking on Jared’s name. “We just graduated high school! Life hasn’t even begun yet! I never got to go to Vegas. I never got to ride in a Ferrari. I never got to bang Kate Upton. I never even got to buy my own beer!” His fingers were digging into Jared’s forearm and it took a good grip to extract them, their mark a stark pink on Jared’s tan skin.

“Dude,” Jared said. “You need to calm down. This is not the end of the world, this is you forgetting to take out the trash. Again. Do you really think your dad is going to be surprised?”

“No, and that’s the problem!” A swift kick landed on the black plastic, sending what little garbage Chad had managed to stuff back into the can onto the ground once more. “When my dad left, he gave me two things that I had to do: I had to take the trash out and I had to not break anything in the house.”

“.... What did you break, Chad?”

“Nothing that important,” Chad muttered quickly. He clumsily dropped to sit on the curb, his back slumped, his posture defeated. “I can kiss the rest of summer goodbye. The house is destroyed, and my dad is going to be so pissed.”

“Chad,” Jared sighed. “If I help you clean up your house, will you stop bitching like the biggest bitch ever?”

“I will totally stop bitching!” Chad exclaimed, demeanor entirely changed in a split-second. “I’ll never bitch again! You won’t ever hear a bitching word out of my mouth for as long as I live.” He was doing a mock Boy Scout-salute, three fingers in the air, but with his other hand over his heart too, and Jared clapped him on the shoulder after pulling him to his feet.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“In me have faith, my young Padawanalecki,” Chad said, walking backwards so he could make swirly hand motions.

“Chad, you couldn’t even keep two promises to your dad for three weeks, what makes you think you’ll be able to never bitch again? Besides, you’re actually the worst bitcher ever. You bitch all the time.”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do n—whoa!” Chad shrieked in a horribly high-pitched sound that he would so deny for the rest of his life, and that left Jared in stitches with laughter.

“Oh, there’s a plant right there, Chad,” Jared grinned, looking down at Chad’s sprawled figure now covered in soil.

“Yeah, thanks for the heads-up, dickweed.”

“Are you really going to say that to me after I offered to help you clean your house? That’s messed up, dude.”

“Jared! My dad will kill me, please,” Chad bitched, and Jared laughed and helped him back to his feet, again, before walking in the house, Chad mumbling and dusting his clothes off best he could before entering.

Jared’s laughter died off, however, into a horrified silence that had Chad stopping in his tracks in the same abrupt manner, nearly running into Jared’s back in the process.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Um, Chad?” Jared asked back instead of answering, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to need backup.”

The living room alone was what appeared to be the result of a tornado, most definitely; the blinds in the windows were twisted and turned, the original shape unrecognizable, and the curtains that were intended to go in front of the blinds were woven all through the twists and turns. That is, the curtains that were still hanging and not ripped and lying on the floor below were woven all through the twists and turns. There was a grease stain on the carpet by the coffee table from where a pizza box had been, and at least thirty different DVD and video game cases were littering the floor in front of the television. A dozen pairs of dirty socks were strewn across the couch, along with at least two pairs of boxers (and Jared didn’t even want to know what events ended with them staying there) and the one lone pillow had what looked like a Mountain Dew coloration on its entire left side.

“I don’t even want to see the kitchen. Or the bathroom. Or your room. Especially your room,” Jared said slowly.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Do you have eyes, Chad?”

“Fuck! I know, I know. Um. Okay, we can’t call Tommy for backup, because I slept with his girlfriend a few months ago and he’s still pissed. We can’t call Mike, because he and Tommy are up each other’s asses all the time. We can’t call Sophia, because she was Tommy’s girlfriend that I slept with, ruining that relationship. We can’t –”

“Chad, if we go through the entire list of people we can’t call because you screwed them over in one way or another, we’ll be here all night. Give me five minutes,” Jared told him, his cellphone already in hand.

“Who’s going to come here to help you? I’m serious about not calling Tommy, he tried to kick my ass last time I ran into him.”

Several minutes later, there was a knock on the front door and in came Megan with two of her friends in tow, their fifteen-year-old faces pulled into the most triumphant of smirks.

“We came prepared,” Megan said with a grin, jiggling the tote of cleaning supplies in her hand. “I’ll take the kitchen, Kelly and Marissa agreed to clean the living room, and you two can do the bedroom and bathroom because no way are we touching either of those. Deal?”

“It’s a deal, Meg, just do your thing,” Jared told her with a sigh and an eye-roll that only became more dramatic when she walked by him with too much bounce in her step, Kelly and Marissa at her heels.

“How’d you get them to come over here?” Chad stage-whispered.

“I agreed to take them to the mall this week and also agreed to do Meg’s summer reading homework,” Jared muttered defeatedly. “You so owe me. Actually, this is beyond just being owed.”

“You’re a true hero, Jay.”

After forty-five minutes of deep cleaning (accompanied by Jared’s Pearl Jam playlist because there was no way Chad was going to get to play his own music, too), things were already resembling a semi-stable household once more. Kelly and Marissa had successful untangled and untwisted the blinds and replaced the torn curtains with brand new ones they found in the hallway closet on the top shelf. Megan had the dishwasher loaded with a load of horribly greasy and sticky plates, cups, and bowls, and was soaking the plate from the microwave and a cup which had had a questionable substance inside. Jared had taken over laundry duty, plugging his nose and wearing a pair of gloves while transporting clothes from Chad’s bedroom floor and bathroom to the washing machine and trying to get all the darks and colors done first so he could bleach anything and everything white last. Chad himself had managed to clean the toilet without too much gagging involved and was in the process of scrubbing the shower floor when Megan came in, yellow rubber gloves covered in suds all the way up to her elbows.

“Hey, do you know if you have any more dish soap for your kitchen?”

“Dish soap?” Chad asked, eyebrows by his hairline. “Is there any under the sink?”

“You would think there would be, but no,” Megan said. “I can run home and grab a bottle real quick.”

“Hold on, hold on. Let me look.” Chad groaned when he pushed himself back up, making his way to the kitchen on legs shaking like he had just ran a marathon.

“Thanks again, Meg,” Jared said as soon as Chad was out of earshot. “Chad’s a mess. And his dad is supposed to be home later tonight.”

“Where’s he been anyway?” she asked, pulling the rubber gloves off for a moment to let her hands breathe.

“He’s been off on some cruise. Bunch of hot-shot lawyers went, I think for some networking event or something.”

“Who has a networking event on a cruise ship?”

“Rich lawyers who can afford it.”

“And he just left Chad. Here. By himself,” Megan said slowly.

“Well, Chad is legally an adult, despite what we all think. And it probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I wouldn’t have been gone all this week looking at Duke University ‘one more time. Just to be sure I made the right decision,’” Jared said, making air quotes as he imitated their father horribly.

“Found some!” Chad yelled, rushing into the room suddenly, a bottle of blue soap in hand. “It was in the garage.”

“Why was your dish soap in the garage?”

“I don’t know, do you think I’ve ever bought a bottle of dish soap in my life? C’mon, Jay.”

“Point taken.”

“Alright, awesome then. I’m going to finish the dishes and wipe down the counters and make sure the microwave and oven are clean. I’ll mop the floor last.”

“Chad is going to finish up his bathroom,” Jared began, ignoring a dirty look thrown from Chad, “and I’ve got laundry going and should at least have it all in the washer before Mr. Murray gets here. When should he be home?”

“He said his flight was landing at five, and it’s a forty-minute drive from the airport to here, so I would say six o’clock.”

“That gives us an hour,” Megan said, her grip on the mop handle becoming white-knuckled.

“We can do plenty in one hour.”

And the second hour of deep cleaning commenced; Chad scrubbed at his bathroom floors with the sort of vigor only found in a desperate man, and too much laughing occurred when he ran into the kitchen to scour for more supplies, only to fall on the mop-wet linoleum. But an hour passes by quickly when hard at work, and before they knew it, their hour was up.

“Okay, he’s going to be here any minute,” Chad started. “I’m sweaty and gross, so I’m going to change clothes. You know my dad, always about that Murray-men sensibility.”

“Well if he’s all about your sensibility, you need to put on deodorant.”

Chad took a whiff under his arms, and pulled back, nose pinched. “Yeah, that too.”

“You, uhh, you might want to hurry,” Megan half-shouted to them both, her figure illuminated by the close proximity of headlights from the road. “He’s pulling in right now.”

“Shit!” Chad started again, the same tone from before leaking through. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, Jared!”

“Calm down!” Jared said, and his hands were on Chad, shoving him back toward his bedroom. “Go change your rank clothes and get back out here. Megan and her friends will go out the back.”

“We’re already leaving. Don’t forget our deal though, big brother! I’m asking Mom if I can double my chores this week to double my allowance,” Megan sing-songed as she, Marissa, and Kelly snuck out the back door in the kitchen.

“She’s going to spend all of her money on art supplies, just watch. She thinks she’s Picasso,” Jared said loudly to Chad.

“I’m more like Cezanne, thank you very much.”

“Who?” Chad whispered.

“Go! Both of you!” Jared said instead of answering, panic rising as they heard the doorknob rattle with movement. Both Chad and Megan disappeared just in time for Richard Murray to walk in the front door, a clean and stereotypical black suitcase in hand.

“Mr. Murray!” Jared greeted, his smile too wide and his stance awkward as he tried to figure out a natural way to position his body where he stood.

“Jared,” Richard started off slowly, “Jared, it’s good to see you. You keep my son out of trouble while I was gone?”

“Yes, sir. Most definitely. Chad’s changing clothes. We played some basketball down at Rowan Park today. It’s a hot one out there today. Probably not as hot as your cruise was though,” Jared rambled.

“I’ll tell you, I didn’t notice the heat all that much,” Richard said, and Jared was a little concerned at the drowsy smile on the man’s face.

“Too busy with all the networking to notice?”

“Dad!” Chad yelled out, skidding down the hallway in fresh white socks, Risky Business-style, but thankfully with pants, and Jared and Richard both waited until Chad steadied himself, hands on the newly-moved chair in the living room. “You’re home! You got a tan.”

“Chad,” Richard started, and Chad immediately flared up at the tone.

“Dad, I know what you’re going to say, but –”

“Chad –”

“All the trash is out at the curb –”

“Chad –”

“And the dishes are done! All the dishes, totally done –”

“Chad –”

“And laundry! I even separated my darks from my lights –”

“Chad –”

“Yeah, okay, Jared told me that’s how I had to do laundry, but I did it! And –”

“Chad!” Richard finally screamed, shutting Chad up (a rare occurrence for everyone). But the scream wasn’t angry, and that same drowsy smile was still on his face and Jared and Chad shared a look.

“Uh, Dad, are you okay? Did all the sun get to your head?” Chad asked.

“No, that’s not it,” Richard said, moving forward to put both of his hands on Chad’s shoulders. “I got married, son.”

[timetogoslumming]

another fluffy little sprace oneshot for you! 

race finds out that spot missed out on a vital part of childhood. 

For the first few weeks that they were dating, Spot never saw Race’s apartment. It just made sense for them- Spot lived alone, and Race’s roommates could be a little bit intense. One evening, though, after they had gone out for pizza, Spot was clearly uncomfortable as they walked back toward his apartment.

“Don’t you live like, a block from here?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

Spot worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a minute. “Okay, I don’t want to tell you this-” he started.

Race looked down at him, concerned. “What is it?”

“I really have to use the bathroom,” Spot said. “Can we please just go back to your place tonight? I really don’t want to walk the rest of the way back to mine holding it.”

“Oh, my god. Fine.” They took a left at the corner and were quickly back to Race’s building. Spot stepped back while Race unlocked the door. “Just… sorry in advance about my roommates,” he started. “They’re kinda- anyway, they’re probably going to interrogate you.”

But his worries, as it turned out, were unfounded. The apartment was empty. Jack, he assumed had gone to Davey’s- he had been doing that a lot lately- and Albert just sort of disappeared sometimes. He would be gone for days at a time, then come back saying he had run out for a bagel. Race knew him well enough to know not to question it. Al would probably come up with a story about being abducted by aliens or something if he asked too many questions.

“My bathroom’s the one at the end of the hall,” Race said, pointing, and Spot walked, a little bit too quickly to be casual, toward it.

“You have a space shower curtain?” Spot yelled from inside.

“Yes! Don’t judge me!”

Race wandered aimlessly around the kitchen while he waited for Spot, eventually starting up the Keurig for a cup of coffee. Not too long after, the toilet flushed, the sink ran for a minute, and Spot emerged, looking much calmer. “Little late for coffee, isn’t it?” he asked.

Race shrugged. “No such thing as too late. Besides, caffeine calms me down.”

“Fair enough. Show me your room. I want to see if you’re as big of a nerd as I think you are.”

Race led Spot to his room and stood awkwardly in the doorway as Spot looked around at his various posters and photos on the wall. He occasionally asked who someone in a picture was, and Race would answer, but aside from that, it was mostly silent. Race had learned when they first got together that Spot liked to know his surroundings like the back of his hand. Unfamiliar spaces made him nervous, so he took the time to thoroughly explore every new place he found himself in. “Why do you have four calculators?” Spot asked, pointing at the stack of advanced graphing calculators on Race’s desk.

“In case three break,” Race replied, only half kidding.

Spot stopped at Race’s bookshelf, picking up a ratty teddy bear, which had once been white and was now a sort of greyish-brown. He held the bear up to Race with his eyebrows raised. “Really? You still have a teddy bear?”

Race made a grab for the bear, but Spot was faster and yanked it out of reach. “Fuck off,” Race said. “I got him when I was a baby.”

“It’s a him, huh?”

Race grabbed for the bear again, but this time, Spot let him have it. “Yes, he’s a him,” Race replied, smoothing the bear’s fur, which had gotten sort of patchy in old age. “His name is Barney, in case you were wondering. But seriously, everyone still has some kind of stuffed animal.”

“Not me,” Spot replied, taking a seat on the end of Race’s bed. “But then, I never really had any.”

“What do you mean?” Race asked absently as he carefully placed Barney the Bear back on his shelf.

“Never had like, a teddy bear or anything.”

Race spun around so fast that his neck cracked a bit. “What, never?” he asked. “Not even when you were little?”

Spot shrugged. “Nah.”

“How?”

“Well, when your mom is in prison and your dad thinks that kind of stuff is too sissy, you don’t get a whole lot of teddy bears.”

A pang of sadness hit Race straight in the heart. “That’s… really shitty. Every kid needs a teddy bear. Or something. I think Al had a stuffed fish, but still. Seriously, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Uh… nothing?”

“We’re getting you a teddy bear.”

Spot shook his head. “We really don’t need to-”

“We’re going.”

The next day, after a long lie-in in bed and a massive breakfast at IHOP, Race dragged Spot to the mall, making a beeline for the Build a Bear Workshop. Spot stopped just outside, staring at the display of Pokemon in the window. “Race, I really don’t want to do this.”

“Too bad. Every kid needs a teddy bear,” Race replied, shoving Spot inside.

“I’m twenty-two.”

“Yeah. We’re making up for twenty-two years of lost time.”

Inside, Race pointed to the wall of stuffed animals, telling Spot to choose the one he liked best. Slowly, they walked along the line, occasionally picking up a bear to make a joke. “This one looks like you,” he said, gesturing to a garish tie-dyed cat.

“Shut up,” Race replied, picking up one that was meant to look like the Beast from Beauty and the Beast, but really just looked like a mistake. “This one looks like you.”

Finally, though, Spot settled on a classic teddy bear with fur the same color as Race’s hair, although neither of them made that connection out loud. An overly cheery teenage employee rushed over. “Are you ready to bring your bear to life?” she asked.

“Uh… sure,” Spot replied.

“Okay!” she enthused. “Come choose a heart for your friend!” She gestured to a huge bowl of red hearts.

“That’s… not necessary.” The employee started to protest, and Race nudged Spot. “Okay, fine.” He grabbed a heart at random.

“Great!” Race was beginning to suspect that the girl was a robot built by Build a Bear’s corporate headquarters. “Now warm the heart in your hands!” Spot hesitantly closed his hands around the red heart. “Good! And now whisper a wish to your bear’s heart.”

Spot jerked his head up. “You’re joking. Do I really look like the kind of guy who whispers wishes to little hearts? Who do you think-” “Dude,” Race said, interrupting him. “Will you just… be cool?”

“Fine,” Spot snapped. He brought the heart up to his hands. “I wish for cheap booze and good sex,” he whispered with a grin, quietly enough that Race and the employee couldn’t make it out.

“Now seal it with a kiss!” the girl said perkily. Spot bitterly gave the heart a quick kiss.

“What’d you wish for?” Race asked.

“Oh, no!” scolded the employee. “If he tells you, it won’t come true!” “Yeah, Race. I can’t tell you,” Spot confirmed with a smirk.

The poor girl helped them stuff the bear, but was quickly rebuked when she suggested that Spot give it a hug test to see if it was full enough, and then weakly suggested that they give the bear a bath.

Spot stared at her, slackjawed. “Give it a what?”

“A bath,” she replied, pointing toward a blue trough shaped vaguely like a dog groomer’s tub.

Spot held up the bear, which had just been stitched up. “This is a stuffed animal. It’s not real. I just bought it. Are you telling me this bear isn’t clean?”

“Spot,” Race hissed.

“It’s not really water,” the employee responded.

Spot nodded. “Okay, great. Can we pretend for a minute that I’m an adult and don’t want to give a stuffed animal an imaginary bath?”

The employee actually rolled her eyes, her robot exterior cracking. “Go pick out clothes or something,” she said dully, gesturing to a wall of clothes.

As soon as they were by the wall, and the employee had gone back to the register, Race nudged Spot. “Why are you so mean?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not mean,” Spot replied as he looked through tiny outfits. “This is stupid.” As he dug through the clothes, he froze and did a double take, looking back at Race. “Hey, look,” Spot said. “It’s your shirt.”

The tiny shirt he held up was weirdly similar to Race’s, although not identical. Race’s shirt was a diagram of Saturn, with arrows and captions pointing out various parts of the planet. The bear shirt was just a picture of Saturn. “I’m getting this.”

“Aw, so you can cuddle with me even when I’m not there?” Race teased.

Spot scowled. “Fuck off. No. It’s because this is stupid and you’re stupid.” He held the shirt up to the bear like he was trying it on. “Besides. I don’t cuddle.” Which, for the record, was the truth. Spot liked his space.

They shopped around for a while longer, before finally settling on an outfit, which was nearly identical to Race’s. After checking out with the employee, who by this point, was completely done with them, and after a quick apology to her from Race, they left, carrying a box shaped like a house.

“Want to walk around the mall a little?” Race asked.

“No,” Spot said quickly. “I don’t need anyone to see me carrying this shit around.”

Back at Spot’s apartment, they unboxed the bear. “Okay, well… cool,” Spot said awkwardly, letting it sit on the couch between them.

“Admit it,” Race urged. “You love it. You finally got your teddy bear.”

“Get out of my home.”

[mediisa-blog1]

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[artificialqueens]

In My Mind 02 (Katlaska) - Miss Sugar Pink

A/N: Thank you very much for your kind words! They really motivated me to write more! I hope you don’t mind a bit of a slow burn. And shoutout to my sister who made this lovely picture for my fic! Thank you!

“The extreme always seems to make an impression.” - Heathers

This will definitely be an interesting story to tell his mother as soon as she calls him tomorrow morning. Oh hey, ma. I’m still in the middle of unpacking my stuff but so far so good. I have a neighbor who watches The Golden Girls all day in full volume like an asshole and my best friend is apparently friends with drag queens who are batshit crazy. But oh, that’s not the best part. I finally met my soulmate. Yeah, he said the exact trashy words that my soulmark has. And he’s absolutely lovely. He was completely hammered and I had to hold his hair while he threw up in the public toilet. It is by far the most romantic first encounter a guy could ever dream of. And did you know people pay him just to watch him get a blowjob onstage?

Okay, now that isn’t fair. Brian knows he isn’t exactly a flawless person himself but really though, is this the kind of first encounter Lady Fate has in store for them?

Fr: Trixie Message: just got home. sent sharon a message about you taking alaska with you but he hasnt replied yet. hows the drama queen?

Brian redirects his stare away from his phone and to the slumbering figure on his bed. He purses his lips at the unwanted turn of events, but what kind of person would he be to leave Alaska by herself in the club when she was being a hysterical sobbing mess? Right after he had assisted her in the comfort room, they went ahead to look for Sharon Needles but she was nowhere to be seen. Even Bri didn’t run into her which didn’t help Alaska’s current state at all; pun intended.

The two Brian’s had no choice but to take her out of the club before she could make a scene.

Alaska had insisted that she didn’t want to go home— that she just wasn’t ready to face Sharon yet. And since Bri kept quiet, obviously having no intention of offering his home, Brian had offered his apartment instead. Alaska was so downright inebriated that she had slept through the entire ride to his building.

The blond man lets out a tired sigh as he leans his shoulder onto the door frame and keys in his reply on his phone.

“Sleeping. Didn’t even take his makeup off. Had to pull his boots off for him.”

“geez, sorry about this. this wasnt supposed to happen.”

“Don’t worry. Nobody asked for it. Any clues on where Sharon might be?”

“not really. i did send him ur address just in case.”

“Do they always fight like this?”

“not usually in public but itll blow over. couples fight all the time.”

Brian’s thumbs hover over the keypad of his screen, the word “couples” stealing his attention longer than he prefers. How much of a dumbfuck is he? How did he not assume that Alaska is dating Sharon even after their lewd performance and that blubbering fit she pulled? There’s a high chance that his very own soulmate possibly doesn’t believe in soulmates and he can’t tell whether he should be worried or relieved.

Alaska looks quite a handful. Very high maintenance. If she doesn’t believe in soulmates, then maybe Brian could easily dodge a bullet here and move on with his life. Maybe even date someone who never had a soulmark at all.

But then again, he’s only met her. And at the wrong time as well. It’s too early for him to make any judgment. He glances up at Alaska again, their ridiculous first encounter resounding over and over in his head. Did she feel anything when she met him? They say people are supposed to feel something once they finally meet their soulmate but upon retracing the incident that took place in the club earlier, it’s really hard to tell whether or not Alaska felt anything at all. She was so engrossed in her argument with Sharon that she didn’t even notice how she nearly crashed into him.

This could be his only chance of finding someone who’s very much compatible with him. But what is he supposed to do? He can’t just break someone else’s relationship just for the sake of his own happiness.

Brian shakes his head and reaches to close the door and give the blonde queen some privacy. He ambles away towards one of the boxes he still has yet to unload and fishes out a toothbrush, still sealed in its pack. He should might as well make Alaska feel at home when she wakes up tomorrow morning. He has no doubt that she will still be a handful during her impending hangover. After neatly placing the toothbrush on the shelf in his bathroom, Brian walks straight for his couch and flings himself onto it with a defeated sigh.

LA has him fucked.

–

Waking up in full makeup is never fun.

Justin groans and moves to his side, refusing to open his eyes despite being fully conscious now. He could feel the thick foundation still clinging to his skin and refusing to let his face breathe. His mouth feels dry and sticky from probably sleeping with his mouth open. The familiar sensation of a hangover hits him right away and he lets out another groan, feeling as though his entire brain is bloating and aching under his skull.

He stretches his arm to wake Aaron up. He could really use some soup right now and nobody does it better than Aaron.

But when his hand reaches nothing but an empty space, he raises his eyelids that feel far too fucking heavy only to be welcomed by the sight of a very unfamiliar room. Alarmed, Justin sits straight up and a wave of nausea doubles the pain in his head. He bites back a groan and holds his head, his eyes taking a sluggish gander of his surroundings.

The blue curtains have been thankfully slid closed to keep any of the bright sunlight away from streaming into the room. Boxes are scattered everywhere, some have been opened while some are still sealed shut.

What happened last night?

Shit, did he cheat on Aaron?

Justin immediately looks down at himself and is relieved to see that he’s still fully dressed. His outfit leaves little to the imagination though so maybe he did have someone fuck him last night without having to de-drag. Panic rises within him. Frantically, he looks around and finds his bag settled neatly on the bedside table. He wastes no more time in grabbing it and taking his phone out.

No new messages.

Not a single one from Aaron.

That can’t be a good sign.

Whoever he’s slept with must have gone out for now. That’s good. He needs some time to think.

“Ah, shit…!” He hisses from the cracking headache splitting his brain, the lingering taste of vomit and vodka in his mouth making him feel even more nauseous than he was mere seconds ago. He needs the bathroom. Carefully, Justin lifts himself up from the mattress (which lacks any bedcovers much to his discomfort) and heads for one of the boxes that has the word “Clothes #3” labeled on it, grabbing the biggest shirt he could find along with a pair of sweatpants before making his way out of the room. He takes a fleeting inspection of the place and finds the only door that obviously doesn’t lead to the outside. With as much haste as his dispirited body could give him, he hurries to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

The light that furnishes the room once he turned it on comes off too radiant and blinding for the drag queen and he squeezes his eyes shut. Slowly, he blinks them back open and rubs his face, not really giving a damn anymore if he’s smeared his makeup or not.

The shower lacks a curtain but the place looks clean. Thank god.

Justin strides to the sink and grimaces at the sight of his own reflection in the mirror. Every single cosmetic he had oh-so-carefully painted on his face last night has been smeared and smudged sloppily. His now flimsy blonde wig is hanging for its dear life far back over his head, the bobby pins keeping it attached. His skin looks stiff and greasy and his body feels jaded with burden and exhaustion despite just waking up from his slumber. His bloodshot eyes glaze over monotonously and for a moment, he forgets where he is or what he’s supposed to be doing.

But then he shakes himself back to reality.

“Wake the fuck up.” He pats his cheeks several times. He stares at himself in the mirror once again before reaching up to yank his wig off and toss it carelessly to the empty bathtub. He pulls open the medicine cabinet and conveniently finds an untouched toothbrush still secured in its package and a small container of petroleum jelly.

Not exactly the most advisable thing to use for removing makeup but it will have to do.

–

Brian wakes up by the abrupt sound of the bathroom door being shut closed a bit louder than it should. He blinks the drowsiness away and sits up, trying to remember where he is. His could feel his back aching from the couch’s lumpy material but that’s the least of his worries. Remembering why he’s even sleeping in the living room in the first place, his attention shoots straight to the bathroom where he could assume Alaska has gone to.

Right, the impending hangover.

He drags his hand over his face in an attempt to wake himself up more. Regardless of offering his apartment to the tall drag queen, he didn’t really exchange much words with her last night so just picturing the uncomfortable tension that will be hovering above them later brings an alarming feeling of dread within him.

While he’s not someone who constantly dreams of meeting his soulmate, he would still very much prefer the clichéd ‘we bumped into each other in this really exciting cereal convention because we both share an everlasting respect and devotion for Cinnamon Toast Crunch only to realize that it’s a convention for serial killers and now we have to work together to survive and live happily ever after, forever traumatized’.

But Lady Fate has a twisted sense of humor so he will just have to put up with this direction.

The sound of the faucet being used in the bathroom brings him back to the matter at hand and he stands up, stretching his arms and sighing upon feeling and hearing the right cracks of his muscles. He walks to the kitchen sink to wash his face, hoping that would be enough to fully wake himself up. After washing and drying up, he looks around and scratches his head.

What does one usually do to ease their hangover?

Brian never liked alcohol and he’s only had a hangover once. But even then, he just slept through the entire day so he couldn’t even recall how it felt.

At helpless times like this, there’s only one person he could rely on who would never let him down.

‘Hangover remedies yahoo answers’ Brian taps into the Google search bar of his phone. But just as he’s about to check the very first result, he hears the bathroom door swinging open and he instinctively stands straighter in anticipation.

But the person stepping out of the bathroom isn’t Alaska.

And for a second, Brian is taken aback and just stares at the tall dark-haired boy walking out of his bathroom with a sluggish flow. All traces of the dramatic intoxicated blonde queen from last night has been erased and replaced by a pale skinny stranger with endearing droopy lids and his short dark brown hair disheveled in an attractive mess. Brian realizes he isn’t as tall as he thought he was but still undoubtedly maintains a few good inches over him. He’s wearing Brian’s clothes but has his own stuff in his grip.

Brian didn’t think he’d be this cute out of drag.

Fuck.

“O-Oh…” Is all he could say, his mind frantically searching for something better to say but coming out blank.

As though only noticing his presence, the guy looks at him and nearly jumps in surprise. “Oh my god, you scared me…!”

Brian offers an awkward smile, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry. I just, uh, forgot that there’s an actual man underneath the whole Alaska glamor. Some of the most beautiful women in the world have gigantic penises after all, am I right?” He drives for a joke but the brunet just stares at him, further plunging them deeper into this suffocating whirlwind of tension— or maybe it’s the joke. It looks like his humor just doesn’t tickle the fancy anymore.

“That’s… a good one.” Surprisingly enough, the tone of his guest’s voice isn’t laced with sarcasm. If anything, he looks contemplative of what he said. “I’m Justin, by the way.”

“Brian.” Brian introduces himself a little bit too quickly than he would have preferred but it’s too late now. “Erm… how are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been fucked gently with a chainsaw.” Justin plods down over to the counter to settle his things there as though he’s at his own home.

Brian stands stiffly from the other side of the counter but a small smile of realization stretches his lips. “Heathers reference?”

It looks like it’s taking a lot of effort for Justin to smile back. “You have good taste.”

It makes no sense how a simple statement could make Brian this fucking giddy like he’s back in high school. He’s a grown man for Barbara’s sake. He feels ridiculous. “I was just kinda looking up the remedies for a hangover.” He waves his phone for emphasis. “I don’t really drink so I’m not entirely sure what to do to help you with—”

“Do you have any cans of PBR?” Justin asks as he tinkers with the strands of his wig, seemingly distracted. He doesn’t seem to be listening at all.

Brian blinks. “PBR?”

“Pabst Blue Ribbon. Beer. Or any alcohol really. It helps numb the hangover away.”

Brian couldn’t help but frown at the supposed quick fix Justin has in mind. That doesn’t sound right. Isn’t alcohol the main cause of a hangover? So why drink more?

“I have coffee.” He suggests a bit hopefully. “Water. Pain-killers.”

“So… no beer?”

Brian shakes his head. “Nope.”

Justin grows quiet and Brian bites the inside of his cheek. Maybe he should start keeping beer in his fridge just in case his guests are into that. Coming off as a killjoy or a stick in the mud is the last thing he wants. He’s in Los Angeles now. It’s time for him to try and blend in if he wants to survive. Anxiously, he taps his fingers on the counter as he tries to think of something else to say. Justin still looks very distracted and doesn’t seem to have any intentions of breaking the silence.

Brian decides to take the step. “So do you want—”

“Did we–”

They both quickly pause their words.

Great, as if it couldn’t get any more awkward than this.

“You go first.” Brian nods to him but Justin shakes his head.

“No, you go first.”

“Don’t worry, my question wasn’t important.”

“I already forgot what I was about to say anyway.”

“Really?”

“I think so.”

“Are you sure?”

“Maybe.”

Brian is pretty much screaming in his head at this point. When he thought Justin was going to be a handful in the morning, he was clearly underestimating him. To a degree, he could now see where Sharon’s frustration is coming from. He flinches at the vibration of his phone and he looks down to find a new text message from Bri.

Saved by the devil.

“Let me just get this.” He excuses himself as he turns his back to the brunet.

‘aaron just replied. said he’ll come pick marie antoinette up in an hour.’

His phone vibrates again.

‘and by aaron, i meant sharon in case you havent figured that out yet, sherlock. ;p’

“What happened last night?” Justin’s voice yanks his attention away from his phone and Brian whips around to face him, his brows raised in genuine surprise. Justin stares back at him, looking like he’s trying his very best to stay awake. “Sorry, my head just hurts so much so trying to remember everything last night is a struggle right now.”

“Umm…” Brian looks around for now before opening one of the cabinets and grabbing a glass. He fills it up with water and hands it to Justin. “Here, drink this first. It’ll make you feel better.”

Justin doesn’t look convinced but does so anyway.

“As for your question…” Brian taps his fingers on the counter again. “…you kinda got into a fight with Sharon Needles.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Justin says patiently after setting his glass down. “And after that?”

Brian shrugs. “Sharon stormed off and you… err, started crying.”

Justin shows no reaction. “And?”

“You dragged me into the comfort room because you felt sick. You threw up and I helped you. After that, we couldn’t find Sharon anywhere and you didn’t want to go home. So… here we are.”

Justin goes quiet again and honestly, it isn’t helping the anxiety that’s rising up Brian’s throat at all. It’s hard to distinguish the gears shifting behind those dark droopy eyes. “Brian…” The taller male begins with a pensive pursing of his lips. “You’re not… Trixie’s friend, are you?”

Trixie’s mentioned him? “Yeah, that’s me.” Brian quickly nods.

“No way. Oh my god…” Justin lets out a long groan as he rests his elbows on the counter and buries his face in his hands. “I am so fucking humiliated now. You shouldn’t have seen that. I’m so sorry. We were such a goddamn mess last night. I should have known better than to rile Sharon up but I did it anyway and–”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” Brian tries to give him a reassuring smile. He’s all too familiar with the way Justin is blabbering right now. It’s the exact same thing he does whenever he’s thoroughly ashamed or freaked out over something he wishes he has never done in the first place. He would apologize profusely that it would tend to annoy most people but he couldn’t help it. It’s how he is. “We’ve all had bad nights. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Brian must hate me now.” Justin’s voice is muffled against his hands. “And I mean, the other Brian.”

Well, Brian can’t speak on behalf of Bri. His friend has been calling Justin a ‘drama queen’ since last night. Marie Antoinette isn’t any better either. But then again, he had spoken highly of Alaska before all this shit happened so maybe he’s just pissed at how things have stacked up.

“He’s not the type to hold grudges so you’ll be fine.” Brian reassures his guest. “Besides, he just sent me a message and said that Aaron will be here to pick you up in an hour.”

“Oh… okay.”

Brian is surprised by the lack of relief in Justin’s tone, but he could only safely assume that perhaps Justin still isn’t ready to face his boyfriend yet.

“Do you…” He begins uncertainly. “…want me to like… tell him to pick you up later?”

Justin looks at him, seemingly confused. “Why would you do that?”

“I-I don’t know.” Brian shifts his eyes away and runs his fingers through his short blond hair. “I just– I don’t– ugh, fuck. I just really don’t know what to do or say right now. This is the first time I’ve had a stranger in my place. Honestly speaking, I’m not really keen on talking to strangers at all unless I’m getting paid for it. I guess you could say I’m not much of a people-person.”

Now a look of incredulity graces Justin’s features which— Brian has only come to realize— are softer than his. “Unless you’re getting paid for it?” The taller man repeats, his brows knitted in a frown.

Brian just stares back at him.

Until he realizes he just laid out a fucking private detail about his life to a total stranger. And not just any stranger, his goddamn soulmate.

“You’re an escort?” Justin pries.

Brian could feel a trickle of sweat running down his back. It’s too early for him to be perspiring but being put on the spot is never a convenient position for him to be in. And he sweats easily so that’s a wretched bonus. First impressions last after all and based on where this conversation is going, all he could estimate is that he’s coming off as a stuttering killjoy who sells his body because he couldn’t get a decent job. The latter isn’t exactly close to the accuracy of his lifestyle though. Being an escort is more of a choice, not an essential to his financial status.

“Y-Yes…?” He tries with a slight cringe. “But you know, drag is like my actual job. Being an escort is just… you know, whatever.” He ends it with a shrug that should have gone off as a casual one but it ends up being a bit stiff and twitchy.

Justin nods thoughtfully but doesn’t say anything else about the matter much to Brian’s appreciation. He’s awfully quiet and reserved compared to the whimsical and lewd Alaska he had portrayed last night. It pretty much broke the illusion to Brian but he couldn’t find it in himself to like him any less.

“Well anyway,” Justin sighs after taking another desperate-sounding sip from his glass. “thank you for taking care of me. And I really am sorry about all this. To make it up to you, why don’t you and other Brian come over to our place this Saturday night? Aaron and I will make you something nice for dinner. Or maybe we’ll just order takeout. It depends.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother—”

“Bitch you can’t be any more of a bother than I have been to you.” This time, a light good-natured smile tugs the corners of Justin’s lips. “We’ve never invited Brian to our place before so it’ll be fun. Like a cozy double date.”

A double date?

Brian flushes at the implication. “Bri and I aren’t dating if that’s what you think.”

Justin laughs and the sound does embarrassing tingles and flickers in Brian’s chest. “You think I didn’t know about you asking him for nudes?”

Oh! That’s fantastic! Brian makes a mental note to add Bri to his list of future murder victims.

“Well excuse me for living free. I thought I was in America.” He jokes in his infamous British accent and Justin laughs some more. Okay, maybe his humiliation is somewhat worth it at the moment. At least Justin isn’t keeping to himself anymore. “But fine, I’ll admit that I did have a crush on Bri once. I never really kept that as a secret from him. He doesn’t see me that way though and that was centuries ago soooo, I’ve moved on.”

“That’s what they all say.” Justin says with a lethargic grin. “I’m willing to play Cupid, you know. I love setting people up.”

The irony of this situation must be so entertaining to Lady Fate.

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do that would make Bri see me as anything more than a friend.” Brian chuckles in disbelief at the thought of Bri being actually attracted to him. First of all, Bri doesn’t want to date anyone who smokes and Brian doesn’t plan on stopping his smoking habits anytime soon. And another thing, Bri wouldn’t shut up about their 8-year age gap and constantly brags about how nice it is to be young as if Brian never went through his age.

“So yeah, you don’t have to.” He tries but Justin shakes his head.

“There’s no need to be so humble about it. I’ll see what I can do.” He then takes his things back to his arms. “It’ll be a stress-free night so relax.” He stops for a second before asking. “Do you do coke?”

Brian blinks. “I’m more of a Red Bull kind of guy.”

Justin offers him a look of what it seems to be a combination of bewilderment and disbelief for a second or two before it melts into another laugh. Brian doesn’t really know what it is that he finds funny but he smiles back anyway. He could just watch him laugh and smile all day for all he cares. Justin shakes his head and lets out a pleased sigh.

“You’re cute, Brian.”

Whatever his words were after that just went flying over Brian’s head because the first ones are what froze him on his spot.

Justin thinks he’s cute.

He finds him cute.

‘Cute’ isn’t the exactly the first impression he’s going for but fuck, he’ll take it.

Now he really is a schoolboy bitch.

A knock on the door yanks him back to reality and Brian realizes that Justin has gone back to his bedroom; probably to get his things. Another knock ensues and he doesn’t waste any more time standing around. He hurries over to the door and pulls it open without checking who it is.

Standing just from the other side is some bespectacled blond dude Brian has never seen before. There are faded traces of smudged eyeliner over both of his lower lash lines and his brows have been shaved off. He looks restless and strangely surprised by Brian which doesn’t make sense since he’s been knocking on the door. What else did he think is going to happen?

“Can I help you?” Brian asks politely anyway.

The stranger eyes him up and down, the look of discomfort now edging away as a smile graces his lips. “Are you Brian?”

“Yeah…?”

“It’s me, Sharon Needles. Or Aaron if you want to be casual.”

Oh. Damn. Could have fooled him.

He sort of pictured Sharon Needles to be the gothy kind of person outside of his drag. The person standing before him now is far from what he had imagined. Aside from the smudged eyeliner which he had evidently failed to completely wipe off, Aaron looks so clean and… bookish with those thick frames, a white sleeveless The Simpsons shirt, a pair of old jeans, and sneakers. There’s a welcoming softness in his eyes and he’s not ghostly white either. His skin has a pinkish glow, making him more human than the queen he portrays.

“Is Justin there?” Aaron asks, trying to peek over Brian’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, yeah, totally.” Brian steps aside and pulls the door further open. “He’s just getting his things. I thought you were gonna be here in like half an hour.”

“Yeah, funny thing about that.” Aaron smiles at him, scratching his cheek as he takes a step into the apartment. “We actually only live next door.” He juts his thumb over to the wall beside him and Brian’s eyes follow the direction.

His jaw goes slack for a second.

“Seriously?”

“I’m serious!” Aaron lets out a light laugh. “What are the odds of that, am I right?”

Brian just stares at the wall, dumbfounded.

Are you there, Lady Fate? It’s me, Brian.

Fuck you.

–

Brian seems like a pretty fidgety guy, Justin thinks. He clearly isn’t comfortable with any kind of silence at all. Justin wouldn’t have minded just lounging in his living room without the unnecessary small talk until he finds the courage to call Aaron but Brian looks so perpetually anxious that he couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the guy. At least he now knows he didn’t sleep with him. None of this would have happened if he had listened to Aaron last night and accepted the fact that he was just being paranoid.

Remembering Aaron, Justin draws in a sharp breath and lets it out before bending down to pick up his boots that have been neatly placed beside the bed. It’s already a given that he’s the one who’s supposed to apologize first no matter how much he would prefer not to. The only way anybody could make Aaron apologize first is by holding their cat, Cerrone, hostage.

Justin hugs his things close to his chest and slides his eyes closed, his head still aching.

He hates fighting with Aaron.

He hates how determined they both are just to prove their point.

He hates how he’s always the first one to raise his voice.

He hates how Aaron would walk out in the middle of an argument.

He just hates what’s happening to them and so far, he hasn’t been doing anything to make things better. He just… lets it happen. He’s watching their relationship crumble right before his eyes. Everything was just so simple back then. He misses waking up in the morning to Aaron planting kisses all over his face. He misses tugging him to bed in the dead of the night whenever the blond would find himself too fixated on his designs. He misses the way Aaron kisses his cheek at the most unexpected times, especially when he’s in a very cheerful mood.

But now, all they do is yell at each other and when they’re not doing that, they would be walking on eggshells just to avoid a fight that will most likely burst out of nowhere.

Justin knows he’s at fault here. He’s too emotional. He lets things affect him too easily. While his boyfriend is attractively sure of himself, Justin is still in his little corner of self-doubt and paranoia. And he’s just dragging Aaron down with him.

So why is Aaron still putting up with him?

Because he loves me, Justin mentally assures himself. And I love him.

And just like that, the familiar light feeling of home swells in his chest and he opens his eyes.

He needs to makes things right again. He loves Aaron. God, he loves him so much that the thought of losing him is completely unimaginable. There’s no one else out there for him but that gorgeous and insane genius.

Suddenly hearing voices from the outside of the bedroom, Justin briskly grabs his bag and shoves his clothes and his wig inside before peeking out just in time to find Brian closing the front door. Aaron is standing nearby, his eyes wandering around the apartment until they settle on him. The moment their gazes lock, Justin is immediately engaged in a trance. Just seeing him again after their fight last night makes him want to run to his arms, give his own ego a big ‘fuck you’ and apologize for everything— promise him that he won’t be a hysterical brat anymore.

Then Aaron smiles at him.

And Justin is more certain than before that he’s fallen so fucking hard.

“I’m so sorry about last night.” He finally says in that usual embarrassed tone he adopts whenever he apologizes.

Aaron laughs and walks up to him, his hand coming up to tug him out of the bedroom. Much to Justin’s surprise, the blond gives him a soft kiss on the lips. “I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone there. That was really shitty of me.”

“But I ruined the night.”

“You weren’t feeling well, baby. Many people might refuse to believe it, but you’re only human.”

Justin fights back the impulse to cry at how understanding Aaron is being right now. Their fights don’t normally end like this. It had always been fight, fight, fight, apologize, fuck, then fight some more. Maybe Aaron realized how often they’ve been yelling at each other recently and is determined to makes things right as well. If that’s the case, then perhaps they can do this together and everything will be back to normal.

“I love you so much.” Justin couldn’t stop himself from saying as he drops his things on the floor and pulls his boyfriend closer for another kiss. He feels Aaron’s lips curving to a smile against his and his hands resting over both sides of his waist. He really misses this— the kisses that actually mean something and not brought out just because they’re getting frisky in the bedroom. His heart flickers and his skin tingles, utterly intoxicated by their kiss.

Until the spell was broken by a single voice.

“Get a room, you two.” Brian’s voice tears them both away from their much needed contact and Justin looks up to find Brian still standing near the front door. “No seriously, your room is like literally next door.” He adds with a light-humored smile creeping up his lips as he juts his thumb to the right.

Aaron grins. “Whoops, sorry. Almost gave you a free show there. That wouldn’t be fair to those who actually pay to watch us.” He then bends down to pick Justin’s things up.

Justin, on the other hand, is somewhat flustered at how Brian just witnessed a moment of theirs. “Sorry, Brian.” But after digesting his new friend’s words more, he furrows his brows in confusion and looks at Aaron. “What did he mean by our room being literally next door?”

“We live next door.” Aaron points out.

Justin’s eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Really?” He exclaims in a pitch higher than his usual voice, accidentally letting out some of his Alaska persona in his reaction. He directs his gaze at Brian who nods at him in confirmation. Now Justin feels like an idiot. He shifts his eyes to the wall with a troubled pout. “The walls are so thin though… “

Brian is quick to pick up on his insinuation and chuckles awkwardly. “Oh my god…” 

Aaron laughs as he takes Justin’s wrist and tugs him to the front door before pausing near Brian. “Don’t worry, darling. Our noises are actually very sexy so feel free to jack off to our sounds whenever you want.”

Humiliated heat rushes up Justin’s cheeks as he quickly slaps Aaron’s arm. “You’re so damn lewd.”

“Oh I’ll definitely rub my nipples until I get these bad boys to lactate.” Brian snickers and Aaron hoots at that.

“You two are a mess.” Justin shakes his head, but he could feel an amused smile stretching his lips. He reaches for the doorknob and pulls the door open before hurriedly nudging his boyfriend out, not wanting to be any more of a bother to Brian.

“Ow, so handsy.” He hears Aaron mutter but Justin pays him no mind as he turns to face Brian.

“I’m so sorry again for the inconvenience. Let me know if you’re still up for Saturday night.”

Brian stands by the door and smiles at him. He really has a nice smile, Justin finds.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it. Take care.”

“You too.”

[nationalcashoffer]

Home Improvement – That Add Real Value

You may be well-settled into your home without plans of changing it anytime soon, however, carrying out some home improvements can make it easy for a FAST CASH SALE whenever you are ready. What you need to know is that certain Home Improvement projects have a larger financial value than others. That’s why you need to read ahead and understand which home repairs will rake in more value when selling a home for cash. This is a starter list which has been compiled based on the value they can add to your property.

Renovating your home is a numbers game. How much do you have to spend to fix up your home and what will it get you in return? When is it worth it to spend more on high-end finishes to get a better return on investment (ROI)? What are the best renovation projects and features that will appeal to the widest range of buyers when you decide to sell?

Home buying and design style are intensely personal choices, and not everyone will love the changes you make. However, using Zillow Talk, Zillow Digs keyword analysis, and data from the Zillow blog we pulled together some averages of home improvement projects. The results? By swapping out certain elements in your home, adding keywords to your listing, and playing up certain aspects of your house, you may be able to increase your resell value and sell your home faster. Not all of our suggestions below had an impact on the house sale price and time on the market, but they could be great investments for you.

Home Improvement | Home Improvements | Home Improvements Ideas

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The kitchen is the heart of the home, and how it appears can make a buyer decide whether or not you are worthy of receiving a check on closing day. You may very well end up recouping between 60% and 120% of your investment if you make the right updates in this special room of gathering.

Remodeling a kitchen could mean knocking down a wall, extending it into the yard, or simply changing the existing space to be more efficient and updated with modern touches. Look at the appliances you have in your kitchen, spending a little to replace them with energy efficient ones will boost your home value.

Some people spend as low as $5,000 on kitchen remodeling while the price can also be as much as $75,000. The more you spend on your kitchen, the lower the chances of recouping the value. How much you spend will often be determined by the size of the room, as well as the neighborhood where your house is located. Certain locations have expectations on which materials should be used. In addition, the cost may be determined by what the property will be used for. Is it an expected rental property, or is it a dream home for a lucky buyer?

Some quality features that would give the kitchen an updated and expensive feel are:

Island with a flat-top grill and/or an added sink.

Stainless steel energy efficient appliances.

Recessed lighting and dimming.

Separate pantry for added storage.

Added cabinets, and hidden storage features.

When you are done with a kitchen update, it should inspire you with a feeling of openness and cleanliness.

National average cost: $18,856

Return on investment: 82.7 percent

As Remodeling Magazine defines it, a minor kitchen remodel consists of replacing cabinet fronts with raised-panel wood doors and drawers, along with new hardware; replacing wall oven and cooktop with energy-efficient models; replacing laminate countertops; installing a mid-priced sink and faucet; and repainting and replacing flooring.

The kitchen is always a good place to invest money, because it’s the heart of the home, Kmiecik said.

“Whenever I take buyers to look at a home, we spend most of the time standing in the kitchen, sitting at the table, getting a feel for how this kitchen will fit into your lifestyle,” he said. “It definitely adds value. Just be careful not to overdo it.”

A major kitchen remodel, meanwhile, would cost $54,909 and has a 74.2 percent ROI.

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Add an Extra Bathroom

An en suite bathroom is a major luxury feature to have right now. Nonetheless, if your home has just a single bathroom, you can add an extra one to increase the property value with minimal effort. Rest assured that you will see the return on your investment when it comes time to sell your house fast.

There will always be potential for an extra bathroom, as 18 square feet is what is needed for a half bathroom, and 30 square feet for a full bathroom (35 if you crave a bathtub). With the bathroom addition, you should recoup at least 80% of your investment while reducing the amount of time spent on the market.

The cost of a bathroom addition will be determined by the extent and luxury, just as it did with the kitchen improvements.

How can you make the bathroom a special place?

Adding a jetted tub and a large tiled shower in a full bathroom will give the new buyer a feel of awe upon entering the room.

Multi-directional shower-heads – spraying the bather from the top and the sides is a luxury feature that any buyer will absolutely love.

Higher end property? Try adding a bidet? His and her bathrooms? Add a urinal to his and make him feel at home.

National average cost: $16,798

Return on investment: 74 percent

Remodeling Magazine’s quoted cost includes updating an existing 5-by-7-foot bathroom and replacing all fixtures, including installing a porcelain-on-steel tub with ceramic tile around it, new shower, standard toilet and new tile floor.

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Acquire Energy Efficient Insulation

A home without energy efficient insulation costs more to live in – not only long term, but monthly as evidenced by the gas bills for drafty houses. Updating your home for energy efficiency will not cost you an arm and leg. Instead, it will make your home appealing to potential buyers.

Small changes such as an extra insulation to your attic will save you close to $2,500 yearly and doesn’t cost much to fix. We’ve seen some insulation improvements costing in the range of $200.

Check your windows and doors, socket and electrical switches, basement, attic and every other little opening. Look for holes, cracks, and worn materials. Some of these areas may not seem that important, but they can be a cause for major heating or cooling loss. Not to mention, they can invite unwelcome critters into your home. In addition, a house that is not properly sealed can end up with water damage.

Consider using a spray foam insulation as your air-tight solution. Using an open-cell foam will out-perform your old fiberglass insulation and stop any leakage in its tracks. There are some things to consider when using the spray foam insulation however.

Make sure that you haven’t been shorted. With a closed-cell spray foam, it can be harder to detect whether it has been applied enough. Open cell foam will fill the framing completely and efficiently to show you right away if enough of it was applied.

Check to see that there aren’t any missed spots. The insulation won’t be effective if corners or attic spaces were not sprayed.

See if the contractor has a warranty on the work, in case of a bad batch of foam which could cause it to contract from the framing. It does not happen often, but when it does, it can leave the area with a serious problem.

While there are some occasional pitfalls to spray foam as outlined above, know that they do not happen very often. The pros outweigh the cons, and can provide an energy savings for years to come. In the end, you’ll have added enough value to your house than you spent. You’ll also feel much more comfortable without the unwanted drafts giving you the chills.

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Deck Addition

Outdoor relaxation areas have become more desired and popular in recent times. Potential buyers often check if homes have this feature. Make your deck and backyard usable and appealing, which will help in convincing potential buyers that they will be able to entertain and relax. You can recoup 60% to 90% with a deck addition, and it will cost you a little above a thousand bucks.

To make the deck a more enticing feature, turn it into a wraparound, or include built-in features for entertaining or cooking. You can transform it into a multi-seasonal space by including a retractable awning or covering, or an enclosed space with retractable walls.

National average cost: $9,539

Return on investment: 87.4 percent

Only two years ago, wooden decks recouped about 70 percent of their value, having dropped during the recession. But with the economy improving and outdoor spaces becoming more popular, buyer interest is again piqued by a quality wood deck out back. The cost assumes a 16-by-20-foot deck with built-in bench and planter, stairs and railings.

A composite deck will also pay off, but not quite as much. A composite deck costs about $15,437 nationally and has an ROI of 74.3 percent.

Conclusion

When looking to cash out your equity in a home, you need to have a realistic expectation of what the market demands in regards to value. Every buyer is different, and each individual will have their take on what constitutes quality living.

It’s important to take many things into account, such as the location of your property, and what kind of updates will return a value or speed up the sale. One thing is for sure…Updated homes sell fast in the retail market. Updating a home is not for everyone however, and this those cases, you can sell your house fast to a cash home buyer.

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  Home Improvement

  Home Improvements: Under $100

Tip 1: Spend an Hour With a pro

Invite a realtor or interior designer over to check out your home. Many realtors will do this as a courtesy, but you will probably have to pay a consultation fee to a designer. Check with several designers in your area; a standard hourly fee is normally less than $100, and in an hour they can give you lots of ideas for needed improvements. Even small suggested improvements, such as paint colors or furniture placement, can go a long way toward improving the look and feel of your home.

Tip 2: Inspect it

Not every home improvement is cosmetic. Deteriorating roofs, termite infestation or outdated electrical systems — you can’t fix it if you don’t know it’s broken. Hire an inspector to check out the areas of your home that you don’t normally see. They may discover hidden problems that could negatively impact your home’s value. Small problems (such as a hidden water leak) can become big, expensive problems quickly; the longer you put off repairs, the more expensive those repairs will be.

Home Improvement

Tip 3: Paint, Paint, Paint.

One of the simplest, most cost-effective improvements of all is paint! Freshly painted rooms look clean and updated — and that spells value. When selecting paint colors, keep in mind that neutrals appeal to the greatest number of people, therefore making your home more desirable. On average, a gallon of paint costs around $25, leaving you plenty of money to buy rollers, painter’s tape, drop cloths and brushes. So buy a few gallons and get busy!

Tip 4: Find Inspiration

An alternative to hiring a designer is to search for remodeling and decorating inspiration in design-oriented magazines, books, TV shows and websites. Simply tear out or print off the ideas you want to try and start your to-do list. Keep it simple — when remodeling on a tight budget, do-it-yourself projects are best.

Tip 5: Cut Energy Costs

The amount of money you spend each month on energy costs may seem like a fixed amount, but many local utility companies provide free energy audits of their customers’ homes. They can show you how to maximize the energy efficiency of your home. An energy-efficient home will save you money now, which can be applied to other updates, and is a more valuable and marketable asset in the long run.we buy house, house for buy, selling your home fast, sell my house fast for cash, sell my house fast phoenix, buy foreclosed home, sell house fast phoenix, tips on selling a house fast, how can i sell my house fast

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