#take it out for a spin in the washing machine and hang it up in the garden to dry out

[dummerjan]

I am so fucking exhausted from my incessant and obsessive overthinking

[wileys-russo]

bad dog II a.russo x reader

slight warning for suggestive content?

she just gives off MAD boyfriend vibes in that gif and i won't be convinced otherwise

bad dog II a.russo 4K words

alessia's team mates watched on in amusement as she scanned the stands which were rapidly emptying, arms crossed and eyebrows knitted into a frown when she couldn't find you.

"she's right there less you big dope." ella chuckled pointing out where you were leant against the barrier chatting with your best friend a couple hundred metres away.

alessia's face instantly lit up as ella and leah shared a look, rolling their eyes as leah shoved alessia away, the blonde mumbling she'd see them at training before sprinting across the field toward you.

"incoming, i'll see you for coffee tomorrow. i'd say tell her she had a great game but i don't think her ego needs the boost." your best friend spotted alessia making her way over and teased, kissing your cheek and waving at your girlfriend over your shoulder before heading off.

"hi superstar." you smiled as she neared, the blonde effortlessly jumping over the barrier and returning your smile, pulling you into a bear hug. "that last goal was beautiful!" you mumbled into her chest as the taller girls arms wrapped tightly round you, lifting you up and spinning you around a few times before she put you down on your feet.

"i know it was." the blonde grinned, pressing your body against the barrier with her own as you rolled your eyes at her cockiness. "not as good as millie's but a near second i guess." you teased with a shrug, squealing as she pinched at your sides and took the moment to press her lips to yours.

you knew the comment bothered her more than you intended when she rammed her tongue down your throat, your cheeks flushing bright red at the sudden intensity of the kiss, unable to push her off as she pinned your hands by your side.

she finally pulled away and left you almost gasping for air, your chest heaving as she lazily pecked your lip a few more times and smiled smugly at the dizzying effect she knew she had over you.

"er excuse me mrs and mrs russo some of us didn't sign up to watch the washing machine demo!" ella gagged dramatically, maya turning around to hug herself and pretend to be making out with someone as your blush deepened.

"back off tooney!" alessia noticed your embarrassment and stood up straighter, glaring at her best friend and placing her hand protectively to the small of your back as ella simply pulled a face, the guard dog routine doing nothing to her as she jumped on maya's back, the two of them racing off to the change rooms with the rest of the team.

"that was your fault!" you punched your girlfriends arm with a whine, the blonde not even flinching as she chuckled. "sorry tesoro...or not." before you could even say a word the striker had you hoisted over her shoulder, sprinting off toward the change rooms.

"less put me down!" you couldn't help but laugh and smack at her back, the taller girl ignoring you as she charged into the change rooms, you hanging your head at the teasing's which instantly flew toward the two of you from her friends.

eventually your girlfriend sat you down on the bench in front of her cubby, placing a hand either side of your body and bending down to kiss you with a cheeky smile, pouting as you squished her cheeks and playfully shoved her face away.

though that was replaced with a murderous warning glare as she turned around toward her team mates whose teasing's immediately ceased. ella who was already changed sat down beside you, keeping you company as the two of you chat one anothers ears off whilst alessia disappeared out the back to the showers to change.

you spoke with her team mates and waved goodbye as they all slowly filtered out, exhausted from the mid afternoon match. alessia eventually returned forever taking her time as over half the team had already left, kitted out in a matching brown sweat short and hoodie set.

"thanks babe." the room went dark momentarily, your girlfriends dirty uniform landing on your head as she threw it at you with a grin, you peeling the sweaty clothing off of you and tossing it back at her with an unimpressed glare.

"dog house tonight if you're not careful russo!" maya teased as she grabbed her kit bag, ella barking loudly beside her to rile up her best friend which worked as the taller girl stepped intimidatingly toward them, both girls running off with a laugh out of the room.

"what are you doing?" the blonde sighed and crossed her arms as you pretended to go fishing, throwing an imaginary line toward her. "fishing, you know since you're so easy to wind up and get on the hook." you teased, your girlfriend staring blankly at you before she advanced with a shake of her head.

once again she placed her hands either side of your body, leaning down so her face was level with yours.

"dolcezza if you'd like to be able to walk tomorrow i suggest you stop that." the blonde spoke with the hint of a smile, your face heating up both at her suggestive tone and the italian pet name as your girlfriend pecked your stunned lips grabbimg her kit bag from her cubby behind your head and straightened up, leaving you reeling from just a few words.

"alessia!" you snapped out of it and cried out in disgust as she now dropped her dirty socks on you, throwing them into the corner as she only grinned again, acting as if she hadn't just sent you into a spin with a mere sentence.

"god you're like a teenage boy, grow up." you huffed as you stood to your feet, her arm draping over your shoulder and pulling you into her side as she walked the two of you out of the stadium and to her car. "you love it." was all she replied, dropping her sunglasses down onto her face with a smirk.

"don't forget we promised your parents we would have dinner with them tonight." you reminded as your girlfriend dumped her kit in the boot, opening your door for you and you heard her groan from outside after she'd closed it.

"did we really?" alessia sighed, dropping into her seat and closing her own door as you hummed, flipping down the sun shade and opening the mirror, fixing your ponytail.

"yes we did. i don't see the issue baby you love your family, and you made me lie about being sick last time so we didn't have to go, so don't even try it." you flashed her a smile as she revved her engine into gear.

"being needy isn't a good enough excuse to no show either." you smiled knowingly, snatching her sunglasses and placing them on, well aware that was the main reason your blonde lover was hesitant.

for days now you'd had to dodge her advances given it had been that time of the month, and somewhat selfishly you'd also refrained from helping her out, repeatedly telling her that if you had to miss out so did she, much to her ongoing frustrations that the most you'd allow her was a passionate kiss and a dry hump followed by a clumsy feel over the top of your shirt before it was quickly shut down.

"alessia!" you groaned as the older girl reached over and tugged your hair out after you'd fussed over it, sending her a dirty look as she grabbed her sunglasses back, sliding them onto her nose with a wink and pulling out of the car park, heading for her parents house instead of her own flat.

~

"-i've got two more exams and then graduation is next month." you smiled at carol who smacked your knee in congratulations, pulling you into a tight hug. "you think she'll realise she's out of your league once she's got a full on degree?" gio bent down to mutter in his younger sisters ear.

"slumming it with a footballer...and an ugly one at that." he continued with a tut, alessia clenching her fists and launching off the sofa with a yell, racing after him as you watched on with an amused shake of your head.

"sometimes its like they never left." carol sighed also watching on with the hint of a smile as alessia clung onto her older brothers back, arm around his neck trying to choke him out as the taller boy furiously struggled to shake her off, alessia admittedly a lot stronger than he anticipated.

"less! get off him please." you called out, sending the blonde a firm look as she opened her mouth to protest, gio's face almost turning blue as he gasped and alessia jumped off him, punching him in the stomach as he doubled over before returning to your side with an innocent smile.

her other brother luca made a whipping noise with his mouth and hands, his wife lauren nudging him with a stern look as alessia sent him a filthy glare and you placed your hand on her knee with a gentle squeeze.

"down girl." you teased quietly, pecking her cheek as her arm stretched itself across the back of your shoulders. "lessi sit like a lady please, for god sakes!" carol clicked her tongue in dissaproval with a shake of her head, kicking at your girlfriends manspread legs, the blonde rolling her eyes and crossing them, watching her mum disappear into the other room before returning right back to her former position, tugging your own legs to lay across her lap.

dinner went by quickly, alessia settling a lot more as her brothers finally laid off their relentless teasing, too engrossed in filling their plates and mouth with food. she busied herself discussing the upcoming first match of the champions league with her dad as you caught up with lauren, not having seen her or luca since they'd been on their honeymoon.

"god i think i'm too full to breathe." alessia exhaled as she collapsed into the sofa, pulling you down to sit on her knee. "why don't you both just stay here tonight love? your rooms the exact same way you left it and you can just drive home tomorrow." carol offered and you accepted before your girlfriend could decline, alessia's brothers beginning their routine argument over what movie everyone was to watch.

"no! elio get down." alessia commanded strictly, shoving off the dopey chocolate labrador as he jumped up on the sofa beside her. "you're so mean. come here baby!" you cooed, grinning as the dog jumped on top of you, alessia grunting at the added weight as you leaned back into her more still sat on her lap, the dog trying to lick at your face.

"dad i thought you were training him!" alessia groaned, the dog their newest addition to the family as mario tried to call him off. "i am! but he's just like giorgio, doesn't listen." the man grinned at his youngest son who was out of earshot, engaged in a furious round of rock paper scissors with luca over the movie choice.

"get off elio! don't call him back." alessia reached around and shoved the dog off of you, warning you firmly as you rolled your eyes and continued to make faces at the dog who sat eagerly by your feet.

"seems he listens to someone." lauren laughed as elio dropped at your order, eagerly doing whatever you asked as you grinned, your girlfriend shaking her head with a sigh, glaring at the dog over your shoulder as all your attention was now on him and off of her.

~

"get home safe, let me know once you've arrived!" carol called out as you all waved luca and lauren off, and with a honk they were gone into the night, everyone else exchanging goodnight's and making ways to their separate rooms.

"i'll make breakfast for you both in the morning, don't you dare leave before i have!" carol warned playfully as you agreed with a laugh, hugging both alessia's parents and shoving gio who ruffled your hair and sprinted off to his room before alessia could pounce on him again.

you had barely stepped foot into your girlfriends teenage room, fondly glancing around at the pictures of her childhood and adolescence scattered around her walls before her arms wrapped around you, pushing you into her dresser.

"finally." the blonde breathed out with a grin, wasting no time in kissing the life out of you as you tangled your hands in her hair, her own hands roaming your body and squeezing at every slit of skin she could find.

"i need to change! and your parents are right down the hall." you shoved her away from you as her hands toyed with the waistband of your jeans, knowing what normally came next as you took a moment to steady yourself.

"sit on the bed please." your girlfriend ordered, pecking your lips and nudging for you to move as you did so and she rifled through her dresser drawers, always having some clothes kept here for when things like this would happen and she'd wind up staying over.

stealing another kiss she handed you an old man united shirt. "can i get some shorts please?" you asked as she shook her head. "no you may not." the blonde smiled, tapping your bum cheekily and disappearing to the bathroom as you rolled your eyes but changed. the height difference between the two of you meant the shirt hung down just above your knees as you folded your other clothes and placed them neatly on her desk.

you soon joined her in the bathroom, the blonde having stayed in her shorts from before but ditching her hoodie, leaving her just in the shorts and a sports bra as she brushed her teeth.

"no." alessia held your toothbrush out of reach as you grabbed for it, already having put toothpaste on it for you. "less i can brush my own teeth!" you laughed as she firmly shook her head and continued to hold it out of your reach before you gave in with a sigh.

"oi!" you smacked at her bare stomach as she purposefully missed, swiping toothpaste on your nose as you grabbed her toothbrush where it hung from her mouth and did the same, the two of you brushing one another's teeth with childish grins, poking and pinching at one another with your free hands as you did.

rinsing out your mouths and exchanging a minty kiss you left your girlfriend to use the toilet and returned to her room. the temperature quite pleasant you settled yourself on top of the covers of the neatly made bed, flicking on the tv and logging into your netflix.

your girlfriend soon joined you, switching off her main light and turning on her lamp before promptly belly flopping herself down on top of you. you laughed as she pressed sloppy kisses all over your face before settling.

"what do you want to watch baby?" you asked her quietly, pressing a kiss to her head before she grabbed the remote from your hand, tossing it wordlessly over her shoulder and hovering over you.

"you." she grinned cheekily, settling herself on top of you. "come here." the blonde ordered, balling your shirt in her fists and pressing her mouth to yours as your hands grabbed her bare back, tracing your nails lightly down her spine making her grind slightly against you.

your tongues fought for dominance before hers of course won, slipping into your mouth as her hand grabbed your neck and deepened the kiss even further. the striker biting down suddenly on your bottom lip and tugging it into her mouth you gasped slightly and your hips bucked up against her, the girl pushing down with her hips and pressing your body flat to the bed.

"what happened to 'i'm so full i can hardly breathe!" you mocked her with a grin as she switched her lips to your neck, peppering light kisses across your jaw and shivering as your nails dug in deeper, leaving the tanned skin of her back with little half moon shaped dents littered across it.

"i'm hungry for something else now." your girlfriend whispered sultrily as she tugged on your earlobe with her teeth, slipping her leg in between yours and nudging them apart slightly, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss as she took her time kissing at your neck.

though the bliss was short lived as she nipped at the column of your throat, sucking harshly at the love bite as you let out a needy whine and she continued on her path, marking across your neck like her own personal map.

your mind reeling and body burning for her touch you suddenly pushed her off of you, moving to now straddle her as the taller girl smirked, sitting up a little more and gripping your behind, pulling your body in closer as you now buried your face in her neck and she grabbed a fistful of your hair in her other hand.

though her own pleasure was short lived as suddenly the door swung open and gio's hand appeared, letting go of elio's collar and calling out it was alessia's turn to have him for the night.

before she could even open her mouth a bundle of brown fur barreled into the two of you, effectively knocking you back down to the bed as the puppy pounced on top of you.

"oh my god get out elio!" alessia grunted angrily, chest heaving and the ache worsening between her legs as she grabbed at the dogs collar, letting go in surprise as he growled at her.

"don't you do that to me!" alessia warned sternly, the dog sitting himself down beside you and growling anytime alessia tried to reach for him.

"for fuck sakes!" the blonde swore, dragging her hands down her face with frustration as you couldn't help but smile, having had no intention of letting her have her way with you with her parents and brother just down the hall anyway.

"baby call him off! he listens to you." the blonde pouted, crossing her arms stroppily over her chest and glaring at the puppy, eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

"but he's so cute, look at that face." you cooed, scratching behind the labs ears who melted at your touch, quite the opposite to alessia. "but what about what we were..." the taller girl trailed off suggestively as the dog laid down, resting its head on your leg.

"you weren't getting much more than that my love, we are in your parents house." you smiled knowingly, offence flashing across her features as she huffed.

"then why did you agree for us to stay here!" "because i like spending time with your family." "well no wonder, you're their favorite now." "aw sorry golden girl, stole your thunder and your desired happy ending tonight did i?"

"you're going the right way for a smacked ass." alessia warned, leaning in to try and kiss you as elio suddenly sat up, licking at her face as she exclaimed in disgust and pulled away.

"i will ask you again, what do you want to watch baby?" you grinned, shuffling down to grab the remote from the end of the bed as alessia let out a deep exhale, mumbling she was going to the bathroom and didn't care.

you chuckled at her sour mood and flicked through a few movies before settling on something funny, elio moving to lay down beside you. you clicked play as the striker eventually returned, pout still ingrained on her features as she glared at the puppy beside you and flicked off the lamp, the room now lit only by the blue glow of her tv.

"aw c'mere stroppy." you cooed to the taller girl who huffed but again laid down on top of you, burying her face in your neck and shoving away elio as he tried to do the same. "mine." the girl turned her head to the side and glared at the puppy.

"baby you're not seriously jealous of a dog are you?" you smiled as she rested her chin on your sternum, piercing blue orbs luring you in. "you barely paid me a second thought once you realised you were dog trainer of the year." the blonde mumbled moodily, feeling your body vibrate underneath her taller form as you cupped her face.

"you're my favorite dog to train lessi, don't worry." you assured sarcastically, teasingly scratching behind her ear and patting her head as she grabbed at your hands and bit the tip of your finger affectionately.

"i maintain you're going the right way for a smacked ass and you better wait till we're home." the girl threatened grumpily as you leant forward to kiss her nose, heart melting as she scrunched up her face.

"oh you're so cute." you smiled softly, knowing she detested the word as she sighed, collapsing her head into your chest tiredly. "go to sleep baby." you encouraged gently, tangling your hand in her hair and scratching at her scalp as she exhaled deeply, nodding as you lowered the volume of the tv.

"i love you." she mumbled out tiredly, lulling off at the repetative scratching of your nails against her scalp, your other hand wrapping around her and rubbing comforting circles on her bare back.

"i love you more." you promised sincerely, your head dropping deeper into the pillow behind your bed as your girlfriend adjusted herself on top of you so she was more comfortable, arms slipping up your top and resting on your stomach as her eyes fluttered close.

but not before one eye slipped open and she glared at the pair of eyes from the canine on your other side.

"bad dog."

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

headaches galore

dad!quinn hughes x f!reader

warnings: swearing, headaches, uncharacteristic quinn??, fluff

word count: 4.1k

“There’s something wrong with Daddy.” A frail, worried voice nips through your train of thought, halting your movements as you shut the door to the washing machine.

When you spin around, you’re face to face with Freya. She’s still in her pyjamas, clutching a matted teddy in her hand as the legs of it trailed along the floor. Her eyes are wide, mouth tipping down at the ends as her other hand curled under her chin. She was standing in the doorway of the laundry room, jaw clenching and unclenching as she waited for your reply.

Truth be told, as soon as she’d voiced her worries, about a million things ran through your mind. You’d paused, making sure to gather yourself in the face of your daughter, who was obviously displaying her upset to the extent you now weren’t allowed to show.

You didn’t want your own anxiety to leak through and send her into a panic, because the last thing you needed (if Quinn really wasn’t okay) was a hysterical child and an ill husband on your hands.

So you took a deep breath, trying to calm your thumping heart, and made for Freya, allowing her to clasp her hand in yours, and kneeled in front of her.

If Quinn’s sluggish mood had anything to do with it, you guessed he’d had an oncoming headache all morning and that it had hit; he’d spent the last hour on the sofa, watching and interacting with Freya as Harry Potter played softly in the background.

“What’s happened?” You asked her, smoothing her dark waves in your palm as your eyes sought a pair of feet hanging off the sofa, only just in your line of view from where you were.

“I was playing with my Legos and asked if he wanted to play too, and he didn’t answer.” She worried, catching her bottom lip with her teeth and fidgeting from side to side as she refused to completely make eye contact with you.

You knew she was going to be a worrier when she grew up.

You offered a reassuring smile, picking her up as you climbed to your feet. Her head immediately swung in the direction of the front room, fingers going up to anxiously play with her lip. You caught the action, gently pulling her hand away before she worked herself up too much, “Is he sleeping?” You whispered, taking her down the corridor in the direction of the living room.

Quite early on, when Freya had learnt to walk and talk, you and Quinn had quickly had to devise a way of dealing with her small anxieties, and the one that you both seemed to naturally fall upon was asking her questions to encourage her to see things for what they were.

She nodded, her eyes flicking to yours. You could see the telltale signs of tears beginning to well up in her eyes, though she tried to hide it from you.

You smiled back at her, “I think Daddy might just have a headache–”

“What’s a headache?” Freya quizzed, her brows furrowing apprehensively as she clutched the teddy closer to her chest.

“A headache is when your head or face hurts.” You whispered, making your way to the front of the sofa, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, just a few feet away from Quinn.

Like you’d assumed, he was fast asleep, a leg slung over the edge of the sofa and his arms folded uncomfortably under his head. His neck was perched at an awkward angle, and you cringed, knowing when you woke him up he’d probably be in even more pain than he was at first.

You kept Freya in one arm, and knelt down in front of him. His cheeks were flushed red, and his mouth was parted slightly, chest slowly rising and falling with each breath he took.

“Is he okay?” Freya whispered terribly, climbing out of your arms and sitting in front of his face.

“He’s fine, honey.” You paused, hesitating to wake him up just yet, “If you look closely, you can see his chest moving, can’t you?”

She looked briefly at Quinn, then turned back and nodded at you, restless as she pushed herself to her feet.

“That’s how you know he’s okay.” You whispered.

You knew if you didn’t wake him up right now, Freya would only fret even more, so you leant forwards, very aware of her keen eyes as they followed your hand to gently touch his forehead.

He was scorching. No wonder he’d only thrown on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts today.

You felt a slight resistance, his head unconsciously leaning towards the coolness offered by your hand, and trailed your touch up to his hair, softly carding your fingers through. You didn’t know if it was a coincidence or a choice on his behalf, but you’d noticed he’d rarely cut his hair past his ears since he’d met you. It always seemed to curl down his neck nowadays; locks draped across his forehead when he laid down.

You thought it was rather breathtaking.

Freya seemed to settle a little, one of her small hands delicately resting on his forearm. You almost wanted to laugh – that she’d copied your actions and applied them to his arm instead, but there was a lingering worry that her anxiety would only increase with her age. It was always there.

“Daddy?” She whispered, as his eyelashes fluttered slightly, his breathing becoming ever so shallower as he came to. “Are you awake?”

The first thing he did when he opened his eyes was look straight at you, a slight edge of confusion on his face. His eyes seemed to automatically squint, as though he was attempting to block out the pain, and just one glance at him confirmed your suspicions. 

Something in your chest panged, and it was then that he turned his attention to the little lady eagerly anticipating his affections, and a small smile broke onto his face, “I’m awake, sweetheart. Did I fall asleep?” He pushed himself up, groaning as he righted himself from the awkward angles he’d placed himself in, and you took the opportunity to go into the kitchen.

You filled up a glass of cold water and took some painkillers from the cupboard and made your way back into the front room.

“–you want to play Legos with me?” Freya was back at the upturned box in the middle of the room, her previous distress seemingly forgotten as she rooted through the tub, the awful grating noise sounding from across the room.

You took a seat next to Quinn, and interrupted him before he could answer, “I’ll play with you instead. I think we should let Dad rest for a bit.” You interjected, passing him the water and pills.

You knew that no matter what state he was in, whether it be sickness, flu, broken bones or injured limbs, he’d never be able to say no to Freya when she asked him for anything. This seemed to be one of those times you’d have to make him rest if he wanted to feel better.

Thank you, he mouthed gratefully.

You shook your head, patting his thigh. Don’t worry about it.

If this happened five years ago, things would be a little different: you’d both be curled up on the sofa, something for you to watch on the TV in the background. Usually Quinn would be draped on you, your fingers twirling his hair as he was lulled into a sleep. It was part of his cure.

Now, however, things had been undoubtedly different since Freya had arrived. You couldn’t ignore the world and snooze on the sofa together – there was a little one running around that took instant priority, but as much as you loved Freya (to smithereens), you couldn’t help but feel a little like you were neglecting Quinn instead of making sure he was properly alright.

Nevertheless, when you sat on the floor, your back to the sofa – feeling the cushions dip against your back as a hand wove itself in your own hair, that guilt eased up a little. 

Freya was interested in her Lego for about five minutes, you following her lead as she voiced creatures and made up her own little narrative, before she quickly lost interest, her eyes becoming transfixed on the Harry Potter film playing in the background. She stopped playing, her actions becoming slower as she became distracted by the people on screen, and after a while of her sitting with her jaw open, taking in what was in front of her, she stood up and walked over to the corner of the room.

You watched, smiling behind your hand, as she dragged her beanbag chair into the centre of the room, plopping down on it without a care in the world. She seemed to have forgotten you were playing with her, but truthfully you didn’t mind. 

She was nearly five, and she was already quite determined for her age. You knew that beanbag chair was pretty heavy for her to lift; she’d occasionally made a performance of dragging it along the carpet, huffing and puffing and pretending to wipe a layer of sweat off her forehead as you and Quinn giggled to yourselves.

It was a sharp tug on your hair that startled you out of your own head, and you lent your head back against the cushion of the sofa, your smile broadening as Quinn pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

He shuffled backwards on the sofa, opening up the space for you to lie down now that Freya had settled, and you eagerly climbed up, your back soon pressed to the cushion as Quinn settled himself on top of you, sighing in relief.

“How are you feeling?” You whispered, one hand immediately moving up to play with his hair as the other trailed to his back, rubbing across the material of his shirt. It was a grey Under Armour one, one that hugged his torso nicely, giving you a good look at the expanse of his back.

“Better now.” He whispered, “Missed you.”

A warmth emanated in your chest, and you melted into him, “Missed you too.”

“Was she okay earlier? She looked a bit wobbly when I woke up.” He adjusted himself so he was looking at you, and you shook your head.

Something in his expression dropped, and your hand travelled to his face, carefully tracing a thumb over his cheekbone, drawing his attention from Freya to you. He was biting the inside of his cheek, eyes concerned.

“She was a bit scared when you didn’t wake up. She found me in the laundry room and I had to explain that you were fine.” 

Immediately you saw the guilt pool in his eyes as he turned back to the beanbag chair. You couldn’t see her over the back of it, but there were stray wisps of brown curls standing up from where Quinn had tied her hair up earlier.  

“I should have just taken some painkillers.” He muttered.

“You would have gone to sleep anyway.” 

He sighed, defeated. He knew you were right – there was no point in arguing.

You took a breath, pulling his mind away from the conversation before even he ended up in his own pit of agitation – inevitably, that he was the one that had caused Freya’s anxiety (you suspected she was so anxious because she’d been raised in a post-lockdown world where only now people were returning back to normal) – and focused back on the bags under his eyes.

“Speaking of sleep…” You trailed off, and Quinn brightened slightly, readjusting himself so his back was pressed to the back of the sofa, one leg slung over your waist and his face hidden in your neck. It gave you a bit of breathing room, but it also meant he could see Freya.

You wrapped an arm over his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you felt him press a tired kiss to the side of your neck.

Your attention turned back to the film, only when you looked over at Freya, her face was poking out from the side of her bean bag chair, eyes carefully watching you and Quinn. You could see the mischievous, slightly longing, glint in her eye before she’d even made the conscious decision to move herself, and you let out a breath of laughter as she came bounding towards you two, Quinn cracking his eyes open at the banging of footfalls.

“I love you, please can I cuddle?” She asked sweetly, and you felt Quinn squeeze you a little harder, trying to reign in the urge to just keep her locked in both your arms for the rest of her life.

You don’t know how it’d happened, but whenever she asked for things, she always started with an ‘I love you’. The first time she’d done it, you could barely restrain yourself around Quinn, because, my word, you guys created that little bundle of adorable cuteness. It still hadn’t really changed, only this time Quinn was less subtle in his hints.

Her face lit up, Quinn’s eyes looking back at you through her as she excitedly – yet gently – climbed on top of you. Quinn pushed himself further towards the back of the sofa, you shuffling towards the edge, as she slotted perfectly between you both. Her head was where Quinn’s had previously been, and she was sandwiched pretty comfortably between you both. You placed a hand on her head – she was still watching Harry Potter – and looked over the top of her to Quinn, who was grinning ear to ear. When he caught your gaze, he winked, and you rolled your eyes.

‘I want another’ he pointed comically at Freya, careful not to catch her eye with his movements.

He was beginning to get predictable, but you wouldn’t choose to have it any other way.

___

You’d put Freya to bed a little over an hour ago, and had only just managed to get settled into bed; your bedside light on as you read your book. The rest of the house was dark, save for the bathroom light that stayed on through the night just in case, and Quinn was trying to sleep next to you.

He’d been shuffling for a while, unable to get comfy – until he froze, the sudden stillness catching your eye.

“What?” You asked tensely, unsure as to whether or not he was shocked over something or panicked.

He waited a second before answering, “Can you hear that?” He whispered.

You held your breath. At first you couldn’t hear anything, but then came the faint sound of small footsteps across the landing, and the light streaming from the bathroom was blocked.

In its place was a sleepy girl, once again clutching her teddy to her chest. Her hair was wild and scruffy, and instead of opting to sleep in pyjamas for the night, she’d chosen to wear a pirate costume instead – she wore a pair of baggy red and white shorts, with a white t shirt and black vest top, the pocket complete with a skull and crossbones. 

You thought she looked utterly adorable – and not at all menacing, no matter how many times she’d brandished a plastic sword in your face in an attempt to avoid being put to bed. You and Quinn had had to take turns trying to get her in because neither of you could keep a straight face for too long.

Now, however, neither of you wore a smile.

“Are you okay, baby?” Quinn asked first, being closest to the door.

She shook her head, rubbing her eyes as she made her way over to him, “My hair hurts.” She explained, pulling an uncomfortable face.

Your curiosity peaked, and you put your book back on the bedside table, watching as Quinn frowned, lifting her onto the bed with undeniable ease. 

“Your hair?” He echoed, looking at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

You met his gaze, trying not to smile, “Can you show us where it hurts?” You asked, turning back to her, “We’ll see if we can help, won’t we?” You looked back at Quinn, a stern look in your eye as you saw the corners of his mouth begin to tilt upwards.

He was still trying to digest the fact that her hair hurt.

Freya was oblivious, nodding eagerly as she placed a hand to the sides of her head, right over the top of her temples.

“Do you know what you need to solve that?” You asked rhetorically, slowly lifting the covers up, catching the way Quinn’s face fell out of the corner of your eye. He doesn’t particularly enjoy sharing the bed with a four year old that has a habit of kicking in the night, “Cuddles.”

Freya giggled, finding the exact answer she was hoping to hear (you knew you played right into her hands, but how were you supposed to say no to that face?), as she wriggled under the covers, once more placed between you both.

“If you’re not feeling any better in five minutes, just let us know, okay?” Quinn asked softly, as you reached to turn off your light.

You felt her nod beside you.

It was quiet. For a few minutes.

“Daddy?” She whispered, and you fought the urge to laugh. You kept your eyes shut, hoping she’d see you were still asleep and keep bothering Quinn.

“Yes?”

“I love you, please can you do the face-thing?” 

You knew as soon as she’d said those three words that Quinn was done for. There was no way he’d never not say break and give her what she wanted when she asked like that.

“Of course I can.” He replied, shuffling closer as Freya rolled onto her back, an arm nearly thwacking you in the face in the process. At the brush of contact you allowed your eyes to open, slyly watching as Freya laid on her back, hands by her sides with her eyes shut as Quinn dutifully and earnestly began stroking his fingers across her face.

He delicately traced her eyebrows, her forehead unintentionally crumpling at the sensation, eliciting a light chuckle from yourself and Quinn, the sound catching his attention as he glanced over at you accusingly.

He didn’t waver in maintaining Freya’s service, his touch going to her cheekbones, ones that almost mirrored his perfectly, even at her young age, and then across the bridge of her nose, before repeating the entire cycle without complaint.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene, something twisting in your gut as you observed Quinn and Freya together, the way he didn’t falter in his movements even though you knew for certain that his arm must have begun to ache from his diligent work.

He was such a good dad it almost brought you to tears thinking about it — because you knew he threw his heart and soul into the role because he wasn’t around as often as he’d like to be, a sad fact that Freya had gotten used to over the years.

You guessed that’s why she had such a special attachment to him, why a lot of her anxieties revolved around him. She was a pretty proactive personality, even though she was too young to realise that herself, and if she couldn’t see Quinn, she worried he wasn’t okay.

The first time you’d clocked the pattern was when he’d left in a three week roadie and she’d become hysterical to the point of being inconsolable after he’d taken a puck to the cheek and had to skate off the ice, clutching his face — no matter how quick you’d been to cover her eyes when the replay was shown, she managed to see the drip of blood onto the ice. How she’d understood what it meant at three was astounding to say the least.

When the camera didn’t show him for the last ten minutes of the match, you’d had to resort to turning it off (even though there was a chance he’d be called for post-game interviews) and waiting rather impatiently for him to call when he was free, in the hope Freya would calm herself before going to sleep.

It was then that Quinn had resorted to tapping his helmet three times after he’d gotten injured in play — it was the only way he could reassure Freya (and yourself) that he was okay.

After a few minutes, you both heard and saw her chest rise and fall, a little slower than before. Her breathing pattern had changed and her head had slumped a little in your direction, mouth falling open.

Quinn smirked that half-awkward way, looking at you proudly. The action had you rolling your eyes fondly, a hint of a smile on your face as he carefully slipped his arms under Freya’s body, carrying her back to her own room with an ease that had your toes tingling. 

You watched the door, eagerly anticipating his arrival once more, and when he’d gently shut it behind him, careful not to let the handle click too loudly, he smiled mischievously, jumping onto your side of the bed with the uncharacteristic giddiness of a teenager.

You lifted the covers up, welcoming him back into the warmth, “You’re so soft with her.” You whispered, going slightly cross eyed as he positioned himself on top of you, arms caging in your head as his forehead pressed to yours.

The cheeky twinkle in his eye wasn’t lost on you, nor was the way every inch of him seemed to be pressed directly against you. 

“Of course I am, she’s my firstborn.” He answered simply, lifting his forehead from you to pull back and press a charged kiss on your lips. 

“Firstborn?” You tilted your head, resisting the urge to smile at his obvious meaning, one hand going to cradle his forearm and the other brushing his hair from his face so your view of him was unobstructed.

Although you couldn’t see the change in colour that splattered his cheeks, you knew he was blushing purely because of the way he shrugged and turned his head away from you pointedly.

“Never say never, you know?” He mumbled.

He was right, in a sense. You had talked about the possibility of having more children, but you’d insisted it wasn’t something to plan just yet because there was absolutely no way you were having two children under five.

That was four years ago, and Freya was going to be five in four months — another fact that wasn’t lost on you.

There was also the unavoidable matter of Quinn and his habit of getting himself broody. It didn’t take much, mostly it was Freya and whenever she did something heartachingly precious and he just couldn’t contain his love for her, and sometimes it was as easy as a video of a baby flashing up on his phone or even a teammate taking their kid into work.

Or any child on the ice for that matter.

You hummed in agreement, “I do know.”

He raised his brows, trying not to get too hopeful at your wording, “Does that mean…”

“Not right now, but I think we should talk about it in the morning.” You replied, his smile infectious as he rolled off you, pretending to pump the air with his fists in triumph.

“Really?” He turned back to you, and you rolled your eyes at his giddiness.

“Really.” 

“Oh my God, I’m so excited.” He breathed, dragging a hand down the side of his face, “My heart is beating so fast.”

You laughed, turning on your side to face him, “Headache cured then?”

At this, his head snapped back to your face, a caught, almost panicky glint in his eye as his smile dropped fractionally, “I never said that.” He sounded almost offended, wincing for show.

You knew it was a lie – his energy levels were significantly higher than they had been earlier, and you could tell just by the way his eyes were fully open and lacking that telltale squint and weariness of the world around him that he was back to normal.

“Oh?” You teased, “Because I don’t think I believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me to still be able to cuddle me.”

“Jesus Christ, Quinn–” You laughed, not complaining or uttering a single protest of any kind as he wrapped a secure arm over your waist, pulling you closer to him, the duvet going straight over both your heads.

“You love it.” He insisted.

You sighed, “I do, I love it.”

“And you love me, too.”

You hesitated, pretending to think about it, until his fingers went to pinch your side, eliciting your laughter, “I really do.”

[141goblin]

Soft: Chapter Four.

—> Chapter three

CW: Slightly suggestive. Hangover.

A/N: I posted the wrong chapter by accident🤦🏼‍♀️my bad. This chapter is a little short but I promise, it’ll get juicy soon :3

I wake up the next morning to find Amelia already gone and a little note laying on my bedside table, scrawled in her writing.

“Early shift at work, gotta go. Love you x”

The second I make any attempt to sit up out of bed, my head begins pounding, a cruel reminder of the sheer amount of alcohol I consumed last night. Yet another stupid decision that’ll make me waste another day lazing around and not doing anything productive. I somehow manage to stumble out of bed and into my bathroom. Because i’m an idiot, I slept in my makeup, breaking one of the most important rules I ever set for myself; never ever sleep in makeup. Crumbs of mascara descend down my dehydrated cheeks, lipstick clinging to the dry parts of my lips.

I wash away the remnants, praying that a bit of cold water and soap will help me to feel a bit more like a human being, rather than a zombie. It does, but not by much. The next thing on my list is to eat something, a proper meal, rather than just bits and pieces of random things laying around my cupboards. I usually opt for what known as ‘girl dinner’, a random assortment of little snacks. My go-to has been pickles with some tortilla chips, and apple slices with peanut butter. Instead of my usual ‘girl dinner’, I make myself a small bowl of pasta with some leftover sauce I have. Carbs will soak up the alcohol, I think.

Once I have something substantial in my stomach, the hangover is slowly starting to fade. It’s still there, but it’s gone from unbearable to just unpleasant. My head still hurts, but the spinning has subsided, luckily. I open my curtains and the windows, letting in some air to rid the smell of wine and takeaway food from my flat. It doesn’t take me long to clear up, putting the empty bottles and packages into the bin and the dirty clothes into the laundry. Now, my flat actually looks somewhat homely, rather than a biohazard. Look at me go, I think.

It’s well into the day, almost 3pm when I decide to reward myself with some well-earned phone time of scrolling on the same three apps for longer than i’d like to. I get into position on the couch, legs sprawled out and open tik-tok, scrolling endlessly on silly videos of cats that warm my heart and stupid memes. I make a mental note to look into getting a cat after I’ve learned to take care of myself. Id love a cat right now, but the poor thing wouldn’t last long. I can’t even look after myself most of the time, let alone another living thing.

The ‘ding’ of the washing machine interrupts my phone time and forces me to get my arse up and finish my chores. I drag the wet clothes out and carry them over to the dryer, turning it on and letting it run. After that, I scoop up the warm, dry clothes off the floor and carry them into my bedroom to fold and put away, like the responsible, functioning adult i’m pretending to be. I’m stopped in my tracks when I plop down on my bed and see a suit jacket hanging up on the drawer of my dresser.

Price’s jacket. Shit, his text.

The laundry gets completely forgotten and I pull up his message from last night.

Unknown: Lovely seeing you tonight, dove. Think you still have my jacket. -JP

My brain begins spinning again as I try to formulate some sort of answer that will make me seem like a normal human being. It takes me a good few minutes of typing and then deleting, but I get there in the end.

Me: I apologise for my rant, I was a bit of a mess. Let me know when you’re free and we can arrange getting your jacket back to you. P.s. the party wasn’t that bad.

I hit send on the message and eagerly await his response, like a teenager with a crush. Fucking stupid, I think. The first time a man has shown me attention in a few weeks and here I am, waiting with baited breath for him to-

Unknown: I told you, dove, no apologies. There’s fire in you, I like that. And as for the jacket, there’s no rush. Hope your head isn’t too sore today. -JP

I giggle like a schoolgirl as soon as I read his text. My brain is screaming because the handsome man with the broad shoulders is texting me, but I take a deep breath to calm the giddiness. He hasn’t exactly left it open-ended so I decide not to reply and wait for him to text next, not wanting to get too ahead of myself, only to be let down because I jumped to conclusions.

I finish the rest of my chores, his texts pinging in my brain. I start to imagine what it’d sound like in his voice as i’m doing the dishes from tonight’s dinner. I imagine his deep, rumbly voice, the voice that makes my fucking bones tingle and brain shake in my skull. I imagine pressing my face against his neck as he talks, feeling the vibrations against my lips. I imagine his voice calling me that stupid nickname, ‘Dove’. I’ve never been called that before, by anyone else, but it’s fast becoming my favourite nickname. It’s better than ‘hot tits’, anyway, the name my ex-boyfriend used to call me when he’d try to be smooth. When I think about it, my ex is nothing compared to Price. Sure, he’s tall and conventionally attractive, but he doesn’t have the same attitude he does. He doesn’t exude masculinity and confidence the way he does.

For fuck sake, I’ve only met the man once and here I am fantasising about him while I pretend to watch yet another rerun of gilmore girls, my attention on him rather than the screen.

I know i’m getting ahead of myself, getting too excited, but I can’t bring myself to care. For the first time in a long time, I let myself indulge in the thoughts and fantasies about the handsome man i’ve only met once. The thoughts continue well into the night, from when I curl up on the couch, to when I settle into bed, hand between my thighs and mind full of his voice. My sticky skin shines with sweat and my moans echo off the walls of my bedroom. I’d normally worry about being heard by the neighbours, but my mind is too full of Price to give a shit.

tags: @izziyuwh @a66-1 @jenniferpendragon @girl-of-multi-fandoms

[blainesebastian]

accidents happen (ccg universe)

words: 1,797 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “Luci gets seriously injured? Like to the point where she needs to go to a hospital for stitches. austin is just the cutest and most protective dad”  warnings: stitches, hospital related things notes: slightly edited so that ccg and austin are cute and concerned but *u* hope you enjoy!  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief , @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

There are moments where you know that neither you nor Austin will be perfect parents. You know you’re going to mess up, constantly, but that’s the only way you’re going to learn how to be the best versions of yourselves. The important part is that you’re figuring it out together, learning a balance, and being kind to one another as you take one step at a time.

Although sometimes, that’s also easier said than done.

“What do you mean you’re at the hospital?”

There are so many thoughts instantly rushing through your head that you feel like you might need to pull over, suddenly lightheaded. You attempt to make sense of one sentence, of your husband calling to tell you that he’s at the hospital as you drive home from work. Hundreds of conflicting emotions, a roaring sounding like the ocean in your ears—you take in a deep breath, try to connect the dots.

Austin is calling, so he’s fine. He’s at not in the hospital—you feel like that’s a distinction you need to make, no idea if it even makes sense. But then your next thought nearly grabs you by the throat.

Austin takes in a short breath through his nose and you can tell he might be pacing. All you know is that it feels like it’s taking him forever to respond and you’re already making sharp right hand turns in traffic to head towards the hospital.

“It’s all okay, I promise—just take a deep breath.”

And god, you know he’s trying to be comforting right now, calming, but you have no idea what’s going on and the word ‘hospital’ is spinning in your brain like a stuck washing machine.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Austin,” You grit through your teeth, trying not to snap at him. “Tell me what happened.”

And that’s when you learn that Luci was jumping on the couch as Austin made lunch and tripped on a pillow, sending herself into the coffee table.

Hearing that is nearly enough to send you off the road. Oxygen rattles in your lungs and squeeze the steering wheel, hanging up the call to concentrate on getting there in one piece. You barely park the car once you turn, hoping that autopilot takes over as you jump out so you can lock the car and grab your purse.

You rush into the emergency room so fast that you feel dizzy, taking a gulp of air into your chest and your ears are ringing and you’re distantly aware that you might pass out. You push through, walking right up to the desk and hoping to get out the words you need—

“Y/N.”

Turning, you see Austin walking out of a curtained room labeled 4 and he reaches for you. “She’s okay,” He says instantly and you almost want to collapse in relief. Your knees actually buckle as you get towards the curtain and see Luci just past it, lying in a cot as the doctor does stitches.

Austin firmly grabs onto your forearms, supporting you, helping you remain upright, “S’okay.” He whispers, drawing a hand down your back as you allow yourself to lean forward and into him. “I knew I probably shouldn’t call you but…I didn’t want to text and I didn’t want you to go home to an empty house.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing over that acidy taste of palpable fear in your throat. You give yourself a few moments to breathe, to absorb Austin’s touch, to assure yourself that Luci is fine.

Austin walks with you back inside the curtain, tugging it closed a bit. Luci looks over, eyes bright and scared with tears, “Daddeee.”

“Right here, baby.” Austin says gently, grabbing a chair for you to sit in. Which is good because the moment he lets you go; you feel your legs go out from under you. White-black dots fill your vision and you have to steel yourself so you don’t faint.

“You must be mom.” The doctor says with a soft smile. “You got a little warrior here.”

You hum lightly, can’t manage words just yet. Luci looks like she has a few cuts and bruises on her face and arms and the doctor is sewing up a nasty looking gash near her shoulder. Austin stands beside you, closest to Luci’s head, reaching out to brush fingers through her hair.

“You’re doin’ so good sweetheart, just keep still, okay?” He murmurs soothingly, leaning down to brush a kiss to Luci’s forehead.

And like a good husband, he knows to reach over and touch you as well, a firm hand up and down your back and along your shoulders as the doctor starts talking again.

“Despite this looking scary, she’s actually pretty lucky. We took an x-ray, no broken bones, no concussion, she seems to have hit the corner of the coffee table with her shoulder. Just a few stitches and she’ll be brand new.”

It’s one of those instances where it feels like the parents are more upset than the child. Luci’s definitely been crying and you can’t imagine what it was like for Austin to pick her up and take her to the emergency room. All alone with your Luci, your baby, crying and bleeding. The morphine is obviously helping and so is the fact that Luci has never been afraid of going to the doctor, of getting shots, always been super inquisitive and brave.

Pain though is another animal.

“She’ll just need to come back and get the sutures removed in ten to fourteen days,” The doctor continues, “You can give her children’s Tylenol for the pain.”

You let out a breath, glad that you’re feeling a bit steadier and less like you’re going to pass out or throw up. Standing from the chair, you run a hand through your hair, “I uh, I’m gonna check my car really quick. I don’t even think I locked it when I got here.” Or…parked in a space, either. Last thing you want is to get towed. “I’ll be right back.”

You squeeze Luci’s ankle on the way out, searching through your purse for your car keys and…jesus, did you leave them in your car?

“Y/N.” You turn a bit as Austin gently grasps your elbow, stopping you right as you make it outside.

In the bright light of the day, you can see how frazzled he is. Despite that calm and collected exterior he’s putting on for Luci, what’s happened has really rattled him. God, of course it has. You came into the hospital an utter wreck, you can’t even imagine if it’d been the other way around and you had to get Luci here.

“I’m sorry,” He says after a moment and your eyebrows draw together in confusion because…why is he apologizing? You take in a breath, stepping towards him because,

“Austin, this isn’t your fault.” Reaching out, you take one of his hands.

He swallows thickly, nodding, can’t quite look at you as those bright blue eyes that remind you of Luci’s shine over with unshed tears. God, you suddenly feel terrible because on top of all these feelings he’s had over what happened, you were snappy and short with him on the phone. Scared, of course, but…the last thing you want is for Austin to somehow feel even worse than he already does.

He sighs, frustrated, squeezing your hand, “I looked away for a minute, you know?”

You quickly shake your head, stepping up on your toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders. You draw Austin into a hug, squeezing him, feeling him relax under your touch. His head tips forward, rests on your shoulder, breathing you in as you’ve done with him so many times before.

“Not your fault,” You repeat, firm but comforting, “Could have just as easily happened to me if you were at work, okay?”

You stand there for a few moments, squeezing him before taking a step back. Giving him a soft smile, you cup his cheek and kiss his other one, “No use in blaming yourself. That’s not gonna do anything but make you feel worse, and Luci will know—she’s wickedly perceptive.”

Austin smiles a little, nodding, tipping his head down a bit into your touch. He kisses the palm of your hand before you draw back.

“Go back in there with her, I’ll be right there.”

Separating, you check your car (finding your keys in your back pocket) and see that you actually locked it, even got it into a space alright. Kind of crazy what autopilot can do. Smoothing your hands through your hair and allowing yourself a deep breath, you tip your head back before walking back into the emergency room.

Tugging the curtain aside on 4, you smile a little as you see Austin sitting in bed, Luci repositioned on his one leg. She’s got her face buried in his shoulder, small whimpers leaving her lips as the doctor finishes up.

“Look, he’s got different colored band-aids Luc.”

Luci turns her head just a little, glancing at the colors as you sit back down in the chair closest to Austin’s knee.

“Which color do you like?” The doctor asks and Luci picks neon green—seems fitting for her, especially with her interest in all the dinosaurs.

You squeeze Austin’s knee as the doctor peels the band-aid and puts it on top of Luci’s stitches, standing from his stool and tugging his gloves off to toss away. “Should be able to take her home—I’ll get the discharge papers.”

“Thanks doc,” Austin replies, watching as he heads out of the room.

Once he’s gone, you move from the chair to the other side of the bed, crawling into it and leaning your back against the pillow. With Austin on the other side, Luci settles between your bodies. You smooth some of her hair back, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Look at you,” You smile softly, smoothing your thumb over her cheek, “Such a big girl. You were so brave today.”

Luci looks up at you with bright, tired eyes. You know that the when the morphine wears off, it’s going to be a bit of a struggle but…one step at a time right? Important thing is—your little family is safe and healthy.

“Daddeee brave too?” She asks and a warm laugh slips out of your chest.

Austin shakes his head even though he’s smiling and you nod, before he can say anything. “Yeah,” You agree, gently tapping her nose with your finger. “Daddy too.”

Inching a bit closer, you press a kiss to Austin’s shoulder, closing your eyes. In that moment, you allow yourself to feel relieved. Far from perfect parents but trying, and really that’s all that matters.

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

Mystery Merc

The air in the old research facility was thick with the musty scent of disuse, the lights flickering like the facility was just shy of a haunted house cliche. Agent Carolina and Agent Washington crept along, their armor clinking softly in the otherwise oppressive silence. Carolina’s suit shone an aqua so bright it looked like it might glow in the dark, while Washington’s looked like it had seen better days, scuffed and practical.

They were approaching what looked like the belly of the beast—some forsaken lab room with wires hanging like vines—when a figure appeared so suddenly it was as if he'd been conjured out of thin air. Dressed in armor so dark it seemed to suck the dim light out of the hallway, the stranger was less a man and more a moving shadow.

Without a word, the shadow-man attacked, launching at them with a ferocity that had even Carolina stepping back. Washington tried to meet him head-on, probably figuring his middle name was 'Heroic,' but all he got for his trouble was a quick trip to the floor, his back slamming against the wall with a grunt that echoed off the metal.“

Just dusting the cobwebs off!” Washington called out from the ground, half-joking. He got back to his feet, shaking off the hit like he was just readjusting his armor.

Carolina didn’t have time to roll her eyes at Wash.

She had met the mercenary head-on, her movements a mixture of grace and lethal precision. Her first strike was a high kick aimed at his head, but he ducked under, sweeping his leg in a low arc aimed to take her down. She leapt over it effortlessly, spinning in mid-air to land a kick that he blocked with his forearm.

The clang of metal on metal rang out sharply. The mercenary countered instantly, launching a series of rapid punches. Carolina deflected each one, her arms moving in a blur, her body swaying like a reed in strong winds. They were inches apart, eyes locked in a deadly contest of wills. He lunged, she pivoted, her own counterattack a whip-like snap kick that connected with his side. He grunted—a sound barely human—and retaliated with a roundhouse kick that Carolina narrowly ducked under.

The air was thick with the smell of ozone and sweat. The sounds of their breaths were heavy, punctuating the staccato rhythm of their fight. Each strike, each block, the scrape of boots on metal, created a symphony of combat. Carolina advanced, her fists a flurry of motion, targeting pressure points and weak spots in his armor. The mercenary parried with the precision of a machine, his counterattacks brutal and efficient.

Carolina feinted left, then spun right, her leg sweeping high in an arc that would have decapitated a lesser opponent. The mercenary ducked and rolled forward, coming up behind her. She sensed his movement, twisting around with a backhand that he caught just in time. The impact sent a reverberating shock through her arm.

Without pause, he pressed forward, his own spin-kick forcing Carolina to block high. She staggered back, her boots scraping the floor, barely catching her balance. The mercenary was relentless, advancing with a barrage of punches that she blocked and dodged, each movement more desperate than the last.

In a split-second decision, Carolina dropped low, sweeping her leg in a wide arc. It was a gamble that paid off—the mercenary, caught off-guard, stumbled just enough for Carolina to surge upward with an uppercut. Her fist connected squarely with his helmet. The sound was like a gong strike, resonant and final. The helmet spiraled off, clattering against the floor far away, revealing his face in the stuttering light.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause, the revelation of his identity hanging between them like a suspended sword. Washington, recovering, watched from his crumpled heap against the wall, his eyes wide, his breaths ragged. Carolina stood, fists still raised, her heart pounding a furious rhythm against her ribcage. The mercenary—his face now known—stared back with eyes that showed no flicker of recognition, only the cold fire of a continued fight.

The face that greeted her was hauntingly familiar—those eyes, the left one blind and milky-white, that scar across the cheek. "York?" she gasped, her voice a mix of disbelief and hope. Not just any old teammate, York was the kind of guy who'd once helped her repaint her armor just because she was bored with the color. They were... more than just squadmates.

The man—York, it couldn’t be but it was—stared at her with eyes as empty as a deleted data file. “York, it’s me, Carolina,” she tried again, lowering her fists a little. She might as well have been talking to the wall for all the recognition she saw in his eyes.

York used her hesitation. His punch was textbook perfect and sent her reeling back. “Really, York? Low blow!” she spat out the words as she steadied herself.

Carolina was ready now, her movements sharper, driven by a mix of anger and a desperate hope to snap him out of whatever brainwashing he’d been through. “You don’t even remember the time I saved your ass with a Banshee trick?”

Silence. Just more punches.

“Or the time you tried to cook dinner at the base and nearly burned down the mess?” She ducked a swing, her voice rising in frustration.Nothing. If memories were going to get through to him, it wasn’t happening in the middle of their spar.

The fight crescendoed until York, with a move so swift it seemed to betray his own desperation to escape this confrontation, bolted. He was a blur, disappearing around a corner before she could even think of pursuing.

Carolina jogged back to where Washington was now standing, looking like he’d wrestled with a Grizzly. “He got away,” she reported, the words tasting bitter.

“Yeah, I saw. Not your fault, though. He’s fast.” Washington managed a grin, his usual attempt to lighten the mood. “We’ll get him next time. Set up a spider trap or something.”

Carolina couldn’t help but smile, tension easing a bit. “Yeah, next time,” she echoed, her mind already racing through possible plans. They moved on, their steps resolute. Whatever had happened to York, whatever had brought him here and left him in this state, they would get to the bottom of it. And Carolina would make sure of it, come hell or high water.

This was a lovely surprise! York getting Winter Soldiered is a very exciting premise that I hadn’t considered before. I’d LOVE to see the continuation of this! York and Carolina are so sweet, and I love Wash too.

Thanks for leaving this for me! It was wonderful.

[firstdegreefangirl]

It's Dirty Work (getting laundry clean)

“So you put the softener in there, close the lid, we’ll set the dial to cold, and then … start!” Lucy pushes the button and claps her hands together when the washing machine starts whirring. “See? It’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, you know what I usually do to start my laundry? Give it to the doorman, and he takes it to the dry cleaner. Then in three days, it’s hanging back outside my door. All I have to do is bag up the dirty clothes and pay the bill at the end of the month.”

“You said you wanted to learn how us ‘normal people’ live,” Lucy spins around, pulling a couple of wine glasses out of the cabinet. “Besides, now you have 47 minutes to regale me with more stories from your upper-crust lifestyle.”

“Well first of all, my wine doesn't come out of the same fridge as my lunch meat.” But he takes a glass anyway, when Lucy offers it, and follows her to share the sofa.

By the time the buzzer goes off on the washing machine, signaling the end of the cycle, they’ve almost forgotten there were clothes tumbling at all. Aaron startles, sloshing the last swallow of his wine up the sides of the glass. Mercifully, it clings to the edges but doesn’t spill as Lucy starts laughing.

“God, it’s been ages since that buzzer has scared someone. It used to get Jacks –” She cuts herself off and backtracks. Some memories aren’t for Tuesday afternoons. “Anyway, that means the washer is done. Or you can turn it off and just set a timer on your phone or whatever.”

“OK, but it just went off. Why would I set a timer for something that’s already finished?”

“No, you – if you don’t like using the buzzer, you can set a timer next time instead.”

“You like that thing?”

“I like that it holds me accountable for actually getting up to start the dryer.” Lucy leads him back to the laundry room and walks him through transferring the clothes from one machine to the next. A couple of times, she stops him and explains that sweaters dry flat, jackets dry best hung up and blankets lose their fluff if you’re not gentle with them in the wash.

Then they’re back on the couch, wine glasses refilled, debating the merits of watching Legally Blonde versus The Parent Trap and considering a takeout order.

“OK, what about this: Ethiopian food, Legally Blonde, maybe we make cupcakes after?” Lucy looks over her shoulder, like she’ll be able to X-ray-vision her way into the cabinets. “I’m pretty sure I have a mix.”

“Or we skip the cupcakes, order Greek and get baklava. While we watch Parent Trap.”

“Greek. Baklava. Legally Blonde.” Lucy counters.

Read the rest on ao3 here!

[chavisory]

One of the petty frustrations of the kind of city life that I live is how hard it can be to take care of clothing and things properly.

Like, I've had a couple of pillows, left behind by an old roommate, that are extremely good quality but had apparently never been washed and were...gross looking.

And I looked up instructions for cleaning and whitening yellowed pillows, and sources are like "soak in OxyClean in a tub for 24 hours" and...we have a kitchen sink, a bathroom sink, and a shower stall. We don't have a bathtub. I can't put the kitchen sink out of commission for 24 hours. I guess I could buy a giant, cheap plastic storage bin to use for this, but again...where? If I were alone in the apartment I could let this sit in the kitchen overnight, but I'm not; there's nowhere I can just take up that much space for a task like that.

Lots of things that need to be hand-washed/laid out flat to dry are really hard; we don't have enough of a common space that I can take it over like that! There are things I can wash one at a time in the sink and dry on a folding rack, and there are some that I could hang on the fire escape to dry if it were summer, but...it's not!

And so there's things I wind up paying more for professional cleaning for that I'd be fully capable of doing myself if only I had the space.

Anyway, so I took these pillows to the laundromat this morning before work and ran them in one of the big machines in hot water, didn't dry them, took them home and soaked them in bleach in the sink for a while, set out to let them air dry (because one roommate is out of town so I could use his room as well as the shower), went to work, got off early, came home, realized they would never dry under current atmospheric conditions (especially now that our heat is out), and also I'd already ruined a towel letting one drip onto it because I didn't get enough bleach rinsed out in the sink, so I took them both still sopping wet and heavy as shit back to the laundromat, ran them in the machine again, this time with no detergent and only warm water, let them spin dry, and this time put them in the dryer for about ten minutes...

And this is stupid and unfair and expensive, and I'm thinking so much about, like, class privilege and clothing care now. Like if I just had more money, I'd've probably just tossed them and bought new, good pillows.

But if I had a lot more money, I'd be able to live in a place that didn't make it ridiculously difficult to take care of my clothing and linens.

It's because I do belong to a certain economic class that it's advantageous to be able to fix and maintain things rather than replace them because money doesn't grow on trees...but also belonging to that economic class makes it significantly more costly to do that.

Anyway, I wish I'd taken before and after photos because these pillows look amazing and I can actually let people sleep on them now.

[thedreadvampy]

I love your bleach paint shirts they are amazing and you look incredible 🌠

Would you by any chance have any pointers on how to get started with that for someone who'd love to do stuff with bleach but has zero idea how it works nor much artistic talent/skills?

Honestly the reason I'm so into bleach painting lately is that I tried it last year and discovered it is like. CRAZY easy to do. all you need is regular household bleach, an area that it's ok to get bleach on, and a paintbrush. other stuff that's useful is electrical tape and card (for masking/stencilling) and a good spray bottle/mister. Recycling the kind of spray bottles cleaning products come in will give you a very blotchy/streaky effect which looks cool but will probably not stencil super well in my experience - I use a hairdressing mist bottle for stencils that gives a really even coverage.

As a step by step, my process looks like:

Put on light coloured clothes/clothes I don't care about, make sure soft furnishings are well out of the way, and cover any fabric (I have lino floors so usually just move the rug and work directly onto the floor)

Get the clothing I want to work on and put some thick cardboard inside it to hold it flat and make sure I don't bleach through onto the back

Draw out a design in however much detail is useful to you. I use a white pencil so it shows up well - dressmakers chalk would probably also be a good shout.

Cut any stencils I want to use (card, cartridge paper or tracing paper all work but bleach will just soak through regular paper. I have also had solid results cutting shapes directly out of gaffer tape) and stick them on with double sided tape.

Pour some bleach into a jar to work with, put bleach in the mister. Make sure you have some tissue or paper towel on hand bc bleach does go everywhere.

Paint with the bleach! I just use regular nylon paintbrushes for this. You should see the line developing almost straight away, but it might take a while depending on the fabric - sometimes you have to paint a bit blind while the bleach takes a while to work. Resist the urge to paint over it again until you've given it plenty of time!

Rinse it when you think it's developed enough! As soon as I'm done, I take the shirt to the bathroom, take the cardboard out, hang it up in the shower and just fire water at it. Once the water runs clearish, I rinse it properly in the sink. I do the shower step to make sure I've taken off a decent amount of the surface bleach before I submerge it cause I worry about the bleach spreading, but it may not be a necessary step. The water will probably run rust-red or grey for a while - that's what you want, that's the dye washing out of the bleached fabric.

I usually hang it on the bath for a tiny bit to drain off and do any last bits of developing, then stick it in the washing machine on a rinse/spin cycle.

Once it's dry you did it! New t-shirt!

Strongly recommend buying a good few plain black t-shirts to practise on and try out techniques with ☺️ I may go to fast fashion hell for this but I have a box of like 5 black shirts in my wardrobe that I replenish regularly for when I Get The Urge - I get ones that are like £3 from supermarkets and Primark/H&M and hoard them 😅

More details under the cut:

Some stuff about the properties of bleach:

Compared to pretty much any paint, bleach is SUPER viscous. Putting a brush in and pulling it out will stretch out a long string of bleach, and you have to reload the brush a LOT because it'll really only do one brush stroke because bleach likes to stick together

There's a temptation, always, to water it down to make it lighter or easier to work with. DON'T DO THIS (except if it won't come out of a spray bottle without it, and then water it down SUPER sparingly). Reducing the concentration of the bleach will extremely suddenly take it from "will give you a clear bright line" to "the fabric is very slightly paler if you squint in the right light"

The wetter the fabric gets, the more all the bleach will spread. So the more layers of bleach you put on the surface, the less crisp and more glowy the mark gets. In particular, cause spraying the fabric gets it fairly wet, I would always advise doing most spraying and stenciling last if you want to mix painting and stenciling.

Bleach obviously develops over time - depending on the fabric and the concentration you should get a fairly clear idea of how it's going to look after 5 minutes or so, but it will keep developing for a while and it looks a bit darker when it's wet, so you don't 100% know how it'll turn out until it's washed and dry.

There's two ways to moderate tone in bleach painting:

How much bleach you put on the surface (which you can control either by how much bleach is on the brush, or by layering up several rounds of bleach...remembering that the more you layer it, the blurrier it gets)

How long it sits (there's an upper limit to this - if it's been 10 or 15 minutes and it's still not as bright as you want you probably need to go over it again)

Because of this, you always want to start with the stuff you want to be brightest - so, on the ACAB design I started with the highlights on the lettering and the pig, the white squares on his hat, and his white fangs. Then I did the outlines, then worked down from brown to black.

Design notes:

You can't rely on getting crisp edges when you layer bleach on bleach, so I think it helps to leave some empty space around key details like lettering (like a black outline). One thing I've been experimenting with is masking areas off with cut out electrical tape or gently stuck-down card stencils that cover slightly more area than the design so I can work on a background without making everything a blurry mess

It's also very hard to rely on how dark or light an area will come out, so if you try to do bright white against dark brown, you might end up with a whole area of bright white. So again, outlines and empty space are your friends.

Bleach does spread and it is heavily affected by the weave of the fabric, so don't rely on getting tiny clear detail

Cool stuff bleach can do:

Spraying from a mister, spraying from a spray bottle, and just splashing/dribbling/throwing bleach directly onto the surface all give really different and fun effects and it's really nice to layer those up imo

Because of how viscous bleach is, you often leave drops and trails of bleach unexpectedly when you move your brush. this is a feature not a bug it looks Cool And Punk and you can use it to add interest

Different fabrics go different colours. Some go bright white, some go orangey/yellow - if you're really lucky, I've seen some t-shirts that go a really reddish orange and you get some cool bloody effects like that. As far as I can tell, fabrics with a higher cotton content are likely to go brighter (my denim jacket has gone almost bone white under concentrated bleach whereas most cotton mix t-shirts I've done go a fairly bright yellow/orange) while ones with a higher synthetic content may bleach a bit darker/greyer/murkier.

One other note is that bleach does damage the fabric's integrity a tiny bit. Not much, but if when you rinse it the back side of the fabric is more or less as bright as the front, you might want to treat the shirt with a little more care than otherwise - it's not a huge issue, but a few of the shirts that my partner made a few years back have started to develop holes in areas where there's been particularly heavy bleach.

[sorcharavenlock]

10. Just Another Manic Monday

"I can't stand those stupid internet lists," I grumble. I woke up in a mood. "Top Ten Most Attractive Avengers! Really?!"

"Please tell me Thor is not listed," Loki rolls his eyes.

"Number one, every single time. It's not even fair when half of his competition wears a mask or a helmet!

Besides, he's not even that handsome, to be honest. I mean, I can see why some people would find him attractive, but it's clear who got the best looks in your family."

I have to stop myself from slapping my hand over my mouth. Did I say that out loud?

Loki turns from bright green to bright pink. Did I just make a ghost blush?

After breakfast, I sit down to write. Loki is quiet, and I presume he's studying in the basement.

When I go to make a cup of tea, however, I find him in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"This contraption is absolutely fascinating!" Loki declares. "It keeps spinning around, tumbling your garments through soapy water!"

"Wait, you've never seen a washing machine before?" I ask. "How did you do laundry in Asgard?"

"I didn't, Loki shrugged. "I had servants for that. I simply dropped my clothing on the floor and I'd find them clean in my wardrobe eventually."

I think for a moment. Getting Loki to help with the chores has been difficult. I suddenly have a cunning plan!

"Well, I'd prefer it if you wouldn't touch the machine. It is complicated and expensive equipment, and I do'nt think it's a good idea for you to operate it."

Loki frowns. "I have you know I was using far more advanced technology long before you were borne! Surely I am more than capable of operating this one!"

"I do'nt know..." I hedge, trying to hide a smile.

"Do not insult my intelligence!" Loki snaps.

"Okay, If you think you can handle it, I'll let you work the washing machine. I trust you."

Loki smiles smugly, happy he got his way.

I show him how to open the machine when it's done and how to add the laundry and detergent.

"You'll have to hang this load out first, after that, you can put the new load in. Call me if you aren't sure what to do!"

"That shall not be needed!" Loki waggles his finger at me.

I leave him guarding the laundry, trying not to smile.

Marianna: 1, god of mischief :0!

Loki spends the rest of his day studying.

In the evening we watch a horror movie together:

After that, I go to bed.

loki however, is suffering from a manic episode and he can not sleep.

First, he practices his magic:

Then he tries to read again, but he can not concentrate. A little while later I wake up to the sound of Heavy Metal.

I find Loki and a friendly spirit rocking out in the sitting room.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!" I yell.

I turn the music off.

"I can't sleep," Loki complains.

"Then find something quieter!"

Loki returns to the basement. The woodworking table that we moved to make room for his bed catches his eye:

Soon, he's made a little statue.

"This will make a nice surprise for Marianna," He thinks to himself.

Loki places it in the sitting room and steals my phone to send a picture to Nea.

He takes a bunch of selfies as well and hangs them around the sitting room.

Above my desk, so I can look at him all the time!

Loki is pretty pleased with himself.

My PC gets his eye next. Not long after, he sets himself up with a social media profile. He's been looking over my shoulder enough when I was checking mine to know how it works.

He also cleans the cat litter box with magic...

hugs and plays with the cats...

... and takes a selfie with Becca when she gets up:

It is the dawn of another day, and we are still no closer to returning Loki back to life...

[judgementdaysunshine]

Chapter 5

Start of hell

You scream as you slip down the side of the trail as the rain pours until you go underwater, feeling your chest burn in agony like it was going to explode. Damian yells your name after seeing you slip away from him before he goes underwater and spin around as if he was in a washing machine until he manages to grab onto a hanging branch and pull himself up on land, he looks around and yells your name as he sees the cuts on his arms and body, he walks on the trail he found after grabbing the pack with the medkit, half of the water bottles, a small amount of food, and a large poncho for the rain, until he is standing against a rock and forced to climb up and over into the jungle looking around before walking to find you, he tries to keep the thought of you being dead out of his mind as he slowly goes deeper and deeper inside the unforgiving jungle determined to find you before leaving the jungle even if he had to die for it to happen. You groan as you open your eyes, realizing that you were laying in water and on branches as you slowly got up and looked around before coughing up water you had swallowed earlier while underwater, you walk up river as you yell and look for damian hearing a tapping sound until you found the pack full of supplies in a small puddle of water, you feel relief wash over you as you find the map, a few water bottles, a little bit of food, and meds for pain relief as you put the pack on your back and continue on your way with a bit more of an energetic pep in your steps up river before stopping to drink water and eat a little bit before studying the map and slowly figuring out a way to find help and hopefully damian along the way or when you get help, you make it until you had to turn back halfway before reluctantly and cautiously going into the jungle, you rub your hands together nervously as you walk terrified of what had happened to damian as you yell his name and look everywhere always looking twice as you go deeper into the jaws of the jungle. Damian holds his head in his hands after three hours of being in the jungle and still not finding you, but he forces himself to get up and keep going knowing in his mind and gut that you were not only still alive but you had to be somewhere in the jungle unless you had gotten help or had been found and they were currently holding a search for him, he becomes more aware and alert of every single sound around him as he walks for the next few hours until night hit and he reluctantly falls asleep in a tree not taking chances of being swept away by rain water again after earlier, his last thought before slowly falling asleep was you, whether you were hurt, if you had been found, how terrified you were, if you were alone, and if you were not far from him in the jungle.

[larkthorne]

[Image ID: the cover of a book: Laundry Love: Finding Joy In A Common Chore by Patric Richardson with Karin B. Miller. The title is in rainbow letters on a yellow background with a stylized drawing of a front load washing machine with a heart on the door in the middle of the cover. /End ID]

Hello to all of you with laundry on chairs, etc, whose executives also fail to function, hope you're well, etc.

Just want to recommend this book to anyone who dislikes laundry or can't keep on top of it! I listened to the audiobook a couple months ago and it has changed the way I do laundry. Here's a TL;DR summary but if you can get this book from your library or whatever it's a charming, easy, quick read.

The basic gist of this life-changing laundry method is, you look at your week. You pick a day that works. That's laundry day babey. Six days a week, don't worry about it. On laundry day, do something. (Caveat: my laundry day is nominally Wednesday but well. It does shift around! For my two person household, as long as I don't go longer than 10 days between Laundry Day we're fine. Your mileage may vary.) Laundry!

Laundry Day, per the method in Laundry Love, is a celebration. One puts on a fun playlist. One watches a trashy romcom while folding. One has a disco ball in one's laundry room, etc. Laundry Day is for enacting care on the things that go on your body everyday.

(I've not quite got that far, but I do try to make it pleasant. I like an audiobook or a podcast.)

The method has you split your clothes into lights, darks, warm colors, and cool colors. I don't think this is like, totally necessary - I like to do it, but if it was a very low spoons day, just sort of making two to four mid-size piles regardless of color would be fine. It is handy to have more smaller piles rather than one or two big ones, in my experience - more on that later.

Before you wash each load, ideally you pretreat stains (the book goes into detail, i mostly just scrub soap onto stains with a toothbrush which mostly works).

(There are also ways you can process silky fabric and wool fabric to allow it to go in the machine instead of dry cleaning or just chucking it in and hoping for the best! Basically: laundry net bags. Silky things in them. Roll up wool sweaters or w/e tightly, then put in the net bag, and pin down the excess. But also, if you don't have silky or wool things, like. Don't worry about it.)

Each load of laundry is washed on warm, on the quick cycle, with extra/high spin. Use like. A tablespoon of eco-friendly clothing detergent. I use a tablespoon of washing soda in the detergent drawer of my front loader and 2 tablespoons of castile soap in the drum of the washer, because Nancy Birtwhistle from Great British Bake-Off told me to, and it's very cheap per load and very effective. But it is better to use eco friendly stuff where you can because it leads to less irritants and pollutants and, this is key, less buildup on your clothes. And use less -- a tablespoon is plenty.

The short cycle on warm is enough to get your clothes clean! Without letting them get too beat up for longer than they need. The extra spin gets them dryer so they take less time to dry.

It is ideal to dry things by hanging them on a line or whatever! That's the platonic ideal of laundry. Clothes last longer and smell nice if you dry them outside. But I've had a Month Or Two and I've been using the dryer. It does wear your clothes out faster and uses up not-strictly-necessary energy but you gotta make it out of the laundry chair cycle somehow so do what you gotta do.

The good thing about the three or four small-to-mid piles of laundry is, as they come out of the dryer, you can fold it and put it away promptly, and it can feel far less overwhelming than looking at Mount Laundry.

Rotate through the piles you made earlier - quick cycle in the wash, dry them somehow, put them away. Only one day a week! The book suggests this takes 3-4 hours. I get tired if I try to do it all at once so I tend to let it take all day, taking breaks as necessary, but it's like, my only chore to do that day. (I still sometimes leave the last load of laundry in the dryer...)

The book offers tips for if you use a laundromat too! I don't, so can't speak to that. I think, though, having the same mindset: one day a week (ish) everything gets done. Some weeks that's aspirational, but there's always another go.

But, crucially: if it's not Laundry Day, simply do not worry about laundry. Put it in a hamper and that's that.

It's not perfect and it won't work for everyone I'm sure, but I learned a lot from the book (despite having a background in costuming and being a hobby sewist - I know about taking care of fabric! And I learned a lot). I really enjoy assigning a day to be For Laundry, and just allowing it to fall off the radar the other days. I always know another Laundry Day is coming.

Anyway! That's me done being bossy on the internet today. Happy laundry!

[redflagsandbanners]

ronance proposal?

And the thing is, after so many years together with another person, you perfect a system. Simple stuff; claiming sides of the bed, who throws away the empty shampoo bottles. A hand immediately curling around an ankle when the other person kicks their feet on your lap when you're lazing around the couch together.

Simple stuff. Being home when your girlfriend comes in for the first time in a week.

Robin frowns up at the lights, where they hang from the ceiling, turned off. The apartment is silent - the air, not stale, but heavy, like the clock on the oven isn't marking the time as a little bit after nine.

"Nance?" Robin calls in the silence and doesn't get a response right back and this isn't -- She is working around a knot of worry tightening in her gut because this isn't --

"Bathroom!"

"Oh, thank fuck", Robin groans around relief, glad to not have to battle interdimensional beings into the walls tonight. The back of her neck is pulling a tight thing from falling asleep in the airplane's seat and the change of temperatures has already made her lower back stiffen.

The bathroom door is cracked open, a quiet glow of golden light coming through and it creaks a sorry sound of time passed when Robin nudges it open.

Immediately, she grins. "Oh, hi".

Nancy freezes while tying the robe's belt around her waist. Water drips from her hair, her nose and chin. Burning candles are scattered around the room, a Walkman left on the washing machine, a glass of rum on the edge of the filled bathtub.

Nancy grins, laughs, abandons the robe to rush across the bathroom and knock the breath right out of Robin's chest. "Hi".

"Hi", Robin repeats, gripping her close despite being filthy from the airport and the trip and --

Nancy's lips press against her neck. "I've missed you. God. How I've missed you, Robin. You're here early".

"Skies opened up last minute", Robin kisses the top of her girlfriend's head, breathing in the scent of shampoo and candlelight. She pulls back just enough to tip Nancy’s head up with a finger under her chin, so she can look her over.

Despite having just turned thirty, Nancy’s hair has already been threaded with silver. The stress has already marked lines on the corners of her eyes. Karen jokes about it during dinner. Robin has never seen someone this beautiful.

"Hi", Robin whispers.

Dimples deepen on either side of her smile. "We said that already". Robin frowns. "Concert went alright?"

"Marry me".

"Alright", Nancy laughs, pushing her away. "You're delirious".

"No, seriously". Robin catches her arm and drags them back close. "I want to come home and say hi to you for the rest of my life".

Nancy stills, looking up at her. "What?"

Robin nods. "Yeah".

"We can't".

"I don't care", she laughs now and another smile tugs at the corners of Nancy's face. Robin leans down and kisses her, but she keeps smiling into it.

Just to make a point, when she pulls back, Robin whispers, "Hi".

Nancy breaks into a laugh too; an emotional one, a surprised one. A loving one. She wraps both arms around Robin and keeps them close.

She replies. "Hi".

"Hi, love. Be my wife".

Nancy sucks in a sharp breath. "Okay".

"Yeah?" Robin laughs.

Nancy grins. "How the hell --"

"I don't care", Robin picks her up and spins her around as if they are still twenty, spins her around until Nancy yelps and demands to be put back down on the floor, because episodes of intense vertigo is a thing she still despises going through even after a thirteen years.

"I don't have a ring", Robin grins. "Not yet".

"Take your time", Nancy wipes her face with both trembling hands.

When she lowers them and grins up at Robin, she smiles. "Welcome home. My fiancée".

"Holy Molly", Robin laughs and, with a deep groan, Nancy pushes her away again. "Why didn't we do this earlier, dude?"

"Get out of my face right now, Buckley".

"Soon to be Buckley-Wheeler?"

"We'll... talk about that".

[bigein]

(to your last post) Arthur touching himself and all but ali catches him and then completely ravishing him and turns him into a over sensitive mess while ali hasn't even finished yet... just saying.

I could see that 👀

I would set the scene with Arthur, so sure that he'll have the flat to himself that evening. Busying himself with housework at first, trying to catch up on to-do list items that he's been putting off for days now. They have both been tired, both busy, and it shows in the laundry piles and the bare cupboards that he'll put off having to deal with. A shower first, and then he'll have a sit and think about what he can scrounge up for a warm meal before Alasdair gets back.

There is only one bathroom in the flat; an en suite. Arthur is months into their living arrangement, learning to tip toe his way in the dark, walking across Alasdair's bedroom to brush his teeth or use the loo long after he's gone to bed. Alasdair has always been a deep sleeper but still— so far they've avoided any real conflict and Arthur's not keen on finding himself out on the street because he accidentally kicked Alasdair awake while trying to take a piss at 3am.

Arthur has been sleeping in Alasdair's living room, and it's good enough. The couch could be worse— and the carpet is worse, stained and textured in bits and spots that Arthur avoids in socked or bare feet— but light streams in through the windows well into the evening, even during these early winter months, and the old radiator does well what Alasdair's threadbare sheets do not: keep him warm.

Still, Arthur misses the even firmness of a mattress; the privacy of a bedroom with a door that locks.

He tells himself that's all there is to it; he's tired, he's sore.

He climbs into Alasdair's bed wearing his clothes.

Alasdair's clothes, Arthur's clothes. He picks them apart and folds them, and fresh from washing they smell the same. They smell the same; plain dove soap and the washing powder Alasdair buys. So it should make no difference, pulling on Alasdair's clothes instead of his own, a too-large shirt and loose cotton boxer briefs.

It does.

The fabric sits on his skin like static. He is hyper-aware of every crease and the way the fabric hangs loose on his frame, the band of the boxers low on his hips. Alasdair left the bed unmade when he left hours ago and so his bedsheets are cold to the touch. The ghost of him lingers pressed into the indent of his pillow and the shape of his body on the mattress. Arthur fits himself against him and tries not to think of it that way; clears his mind until all that is left is the sound of the washing machine, reaching him muffled through the walls and the bedroom door left half-open.

His hand is resting idly on his stomach, fingers tracing mindless shapes. Reaching lower, lower, until his fingertips brush past the hem of his borrowed shirt.

Alasdair has never touched his thighs or the bare stretch of his hips but curled up in his bed it is easy to imagine the way he might. Arthur teases his fingers where he would like to be bruised, letting his finger nails raise gooseflesh in their wake before giving in and cupping himself, thinking of the way Alasdair's cock could tent the fabric he is pressing against the heat of his cunt. It's shameful how hot it gets him to picture just that, Alasdair thick and bulging against the cotton of his boxers, wet at the tip and pulsing for touch. Arthur would like to mouth against him like that; would straddle him and work his hips against the length of him until the cotton was soaked through and Alasdair could feel his lips parting for him. His fingers are a poor substitute for the fantasies his mind spins but they serve him well enough now, hips pulsing to chase the pleasure and mouth parting on a sigh as his free hand comes up to tease his nipples and press down on his collarbones.

He is getting close, his fingers pressing harder, face half-turned into the bedsheets, when the mashing machine falls silent, the end of the cycle announced by three short beeps. It plunges the room into true silence save for the panting of Arthur's breath. Arthur's breath and—

Alasdair stands in the threshold with a slack-jawed expression, arms hanging loosely by his sides, fingers twitching like he can't quite decide what he wants to do with his hands.

Arthur sits up with a start, throwing himself back against the headboard hard enough that he really might bruise. His damp hand he shoves behind himself like that would somehow turn back the clock a minute—two minutes, five. However long Alasdair has stood there barefooted and silent, now stepping into the room first halting then sure-footed.

Arthur is still stuttering out accusations (you were supposed to be at work, why are you— why did you—) when Alasdair climbs on the bed, kneeling over him to box him and asking simply do you want this?

Do you want this? And Arthur is dumbfounded, slack-jawed himself now that Alasdair seems to have gathered his bearings, looking down at him with pupils blown so wide he looks like something wild; barely restrained. Arthur calls his name and feels the tension bleed out from his body; shifts his legs so Alasdair can resettle his weight.

He thinks of the late nights they've spent thigh-to-thigh on the sofa, mindless in the early hours past midnight. Of Alasdair waiting at the bus stop that first night; how study he'd seemed, taking Arthur's duffle bag without a word and offering a coat for him to layer over his threadbare hoodie. This could ruin them; neither have anything to lose. Alasdair is asking; Alasdair would stop this if he asked, if he flinched. Arthur has loved him for longer than he can remember. Maybe always has; suspects he always will.

Yes, he says, and before he can take another breath Alasdair's lips are on his.

Alasdair lifts him like he weighs nothing, manhandling him until he is flat on his back. He wastes no time undressing him, kissing Arthur's chest through the fabric of his shirt and rucking it up only when he wants to nip at his ribs. He is rough from the start, bringing Arthur to a peak with only his knuckles to buck against. The next finds him trying to close his thighs in vain while Alasdair rubs three of his fingers in tight, rolling circles that should hurt but don't, if only for the mercy of the cotton that softens his touch.

When he stops, Arthur thinks it's to chase his own high and he is moving to offer his hands, his mouth, when Alasdair puts an end to it by flipping him onto his front and pushing his chest low against the mattress, his hips high. Alasdair pulls the boxers halfway down his thighs and wrings another orgasm out of him with two fingers that feel like four, so much broader than his own and three knuckles deep inside him. When his legs give out he's on his back before he can protest, Alasdair's mouth chasing the soreness away until he's sobbing and cumming with a weak pulse of his hips against his tongue.

Alasdair lets him go with one last sucking kiss against his cock, then trails his hot, swollen lips in easy paths up his hips so he can rest his head on Arthur's stomach, nose buried against his shirt.

I like you in my clothes, he whispers hoarsely, and Arthur thinks he should say something back but cannot find his voice. He buries his fingers in Alasdair's thick, auburn hair instead and scratches gently at the roots until the big oaf sighs with something like relief.

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

|Come Closer| Kuroo Tetsurou x Blackfem!reader

The following fanfic is an inspired spin-off of Deciphered by @hoeneymilktea, The Sunrise, and Your Sins by @leia505 , and fanart by @aikk00 . Pls, check them out as well as other spin-off authors. Comments, Reblogs, and Shares are heavily appreciated. I hope you enjoy~ ♡

Words- 2,001

Chapter [005] Wish it More

Subway doors clang shut at the Toranomon Hills Station via the Hibiya Line. Kuroo texts you and says he's waiting at the next station's platform. You have your headset on one ear, the other somewhat hanging off to hear any upcoming announcements. Your mouth quirks at its corners as you notice a toddler sitting across from where you are, babbling and reaching for you.

Sunlit clouds drift through the clear skies, casting radiant lambency out the windows of the train. Its beams turn your irises into sunny versions of themselves. When Kuroo said he'd see you today, you didn't think you'd wake up to brunch delivered at your doorstep from your favorite café you thought closed many summers back. He first took you there after his morning practice as a thank-you for accompanying him during volleyball training camp.

You’re pulled out of your reverie as your stop, Kasumigaseki Station, is announced as the next stop. You wish the toddler goodbye with a wink and a wave, seeing their teeny tiny hand wave bye back to you. Waiting by the candy cane-striped line for safety at the edge of the track, train schedules and map routes are posted on the wall along with digital signs announcing the estimated arrival time for the next train.

"Y/n!" Kuroo stumbled to a halt. "I'm so glad you had some time to do this with me."

"Lucky for you I've got all the time in the world, Tetsurou."

He's decked out in a white Chicago Bulls jersey and khaki cargo pants, an acid wash jean jacket wrapped around his waist. Red, white, and black retro Jordan 6's on his feet as he ushered you inside the train. You both tromp along, taking baby steps into the sardine can-like compartment alongside dozens of strangers. Attempting to snag an empty seat, the train lurched unanticipatedly at its next stop.

Had the last person boarding not rushed inside the train, Kuroo -adding to his now brought-on discomforting sense of dread- blunders about nearly crushing you between him and the train doors at your rear. He catches himself even though there wasn't a handle to grab ahold of. Till he realized his large hand was on your hip holding you upright.

You raise your chin, pursing your lips. "You good? You almost busted your ass there for a sec."

"Uh- yeah sorry about that, Shortcake. Can I uh...?" He trips over his tongue, the forced proximity making his heart play double dutch. "I'm gonna put my arm above you, okay? To steady me."

"Right, uh, go ahead." You said, folding your hands at your sides and holding your ruched red Prada mini bag. His gold cuban link chain dangling within the modest gap between you both. He's not far off from an overprotective boyfriend with his right forearm stiffly propped onto the train doors. Kuroo turned his head sideways, throwing his focus elsewhere.

You both bring your attention as the speaker crackles to life, announcing the next platform. Seven stops left.

You press your foot down on the gas controller, only for your avatar to place fourth once again across the finish line. Kuroo takes pleasure in his victory, even going as far as to one-up you by driving one-handed just like in real life. Yet he had another thing coming as you got to your feet on the old thin patterned carpet, blowing out your cheeks.

"Best two outta three?" He insisted, stretching his arms above his head.

"Tell yah what, you may out-drive me but I mos def can out-gun you." You taunt, leading him away from the seated racing games to the loud bomb blasts and gunfire emanating from the nearby shoot-em-up games.

Rows of machines with colorful pictures on the sides filled Gigo Shinjuku Kabukicho. Players jab at buttons, some frustratedly slamming their hands against the side of them. Recorded crowds cheering and bellowing out the basketball/hoop games. Inserting your tokens, you hold the shotgun controller, squeezing the trigger.

Kuroo practically bent over backward narrowly keeping up with your kill streak. Marveled, he watches as you gun down hordes of zombies . The Annihilation–each zombie barely made it a step through the graveyard before you blew them to high hell with seconds left in the round.

You size him up, grabbing a quick slurp of your blue raspberry slush before the next level kicks in. "Quittin' already?"

"I'm all outta tokens, smart ass. Imma be right back." He simpered, gingerly bumping your side.

You give him a half-shrug, mowing down more zombies as Kuroo jogged out of view to the token exchange. At the final boss level, you chuck a grenade, adding another S-rank win to your belt. Level three loaded as you pumped your fist in the air, jamming your hand in your front pocket for what's left of your tokens.

"Here, you can have mine." Your head jerked in the direction of the voice, his stack of tokens resting on the game cabinets' console. He held out his arms, wrapping them around your shoulders, yours around his torso squeezing a bit.

"Where have you been at, Tangie? Last we spoke, you were leaving for Brazil." You pull away, the ginger barely concealing his delight. "You were shorter, too."

"Says the one who hasn't grown much since then. Last I saw you, you were catching your flight back to the states."

Hinata's tan is evident of his time away. His short-sleeved shirt revealed elaborate tattoos down to his wrists. "I'm taking some time off. I got homesick. I've missed you, Mi Querida."

"Oh, so we're bilingual now?" Your hip juts out amused. "I missed you too. Sorry I wasn't calling you as much. I had my number changed recently. "

Inserting his stack of coins, you wait on the countdown to the next stage of zombies. You hand your blue flip phone to him, a Calpico charm with a small four-leaf clover inside hangs from it.

"I can't say much right now, but add your number to my contact list. And don't tell Blondie Miya. I want it to be a surprise."

Hinata taps away at the number keys. "That's if his brother didn't tell him first. Word travels fast 'round here. Wait, you're here alone?"

"Who says I'm alone?" You ready your stance, cocking the plastic shotgun and adjusting your aim. "I'll give you the deets later."

Hinata snaps your phone shut, sliding it into your mini bag. He side-hugs you once more, starting to quicken his pace en route to the prize counter.

"You might wanna head out pronto." His flip phone chirps reading off a message. "Blondie and Grey will be here in a few minutes. I'll message you a meeting place by Friday."

You wave him away, putting the plastic gun down in the console's holster. Searching for any signs of the twins, you bump into a medium-sized toast and skeleton cat plushie won from the claw games held in Kuroo's arms.

Somewhat peeking around his shoulder, you notice the twins now battling in air hockey while Enigma was by the dance pads.

"Careful y/n. What's the rush?"

You take his hand, hastily leading him to the exit doors. "I'm craving something sweet. Let's get ice cream. My treat."

Colorfully painted walls and an ornamented chalkboard menu board lists various ice cream flavors and their correlative prices. Jolly décor and customers peer into glass-covered cases holding buckets of creamy confectionery nestled in ice as they ask for samples. Tubs filled with candy toppings and pump containers of chocolate, caramel, butterscotch, and strawberry syrups lined the display cases.

Seated in a booth, you take spoonfuls of your parfait as Kuroo tries desperately to keep his waffle cone from melting in his hands. Both of your plushies are seated beside you.

"We're gonna spoil our dinner because of your sweet tooth."

"What do you care? Do you have reservations planned for us somewhere? " You rocked back and forth, brushing your palms together.

"Does Thai Take-out count?" Kuroo bites into his cone, licking what he could of his three scoops. "In all seriousness though, why were you so quick to leave the arcade? Did something happen? "

You shook your head. "No. Nothing like that. I just saw some familiar faces and I didn't want them to know I was out and about."

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Why? Scared I'll ruin your rep?"

"For starters, you still haven't told me what your rep is nowadays. Apparently, you race and you have money as far as the eye can see. Am I wrong to assume the worst? "

Kuroo laughs bitterly, crunching more of his waffle cone between his teeth. "Assume the worst huh? I'd say I'm living the dream. Fast cars and fast money all the while I'm my own boss."

"And your Chem degree is still in the picture?"

"Working on it as we speak. Part-time, obviously."

Wrapping a curl around your finger, you lean back into the cushioned seat, wiggling your foot.

"If life's so carefree, then, please do tell me whose nine millimeter that is in your glove box."

There's a beat of silence as his shoulders slump and he massages the back of his neck. "How did you-? Look, I never said I didn't have enemies, y/n. It comes with the territory."

Across the way, a girl your age waited afar. You realize you know her, red and white ink formed a chrysanthemum norigae on her right bicep.

Exhaling, you rise from your seat. "I'll be in the bathroom."

Shim Ya Naoki. Da Vinci was once her name. Nothing more than a talented tattoo artist who visited your old place of work for flowers and coffee. You hated where things left off between you both. She's the one who disappeared. She had no right to blame you.

Her black platform lace-up boots entered, heavily pacing to the stall you stood within. She leaned back against the wall, hanging her head and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'd apologize but I know you don't want to hear a word I have to say."

"Yeah, well, you shut everybody out. I won't take it personally. Never did." You quipped, glancing up at the ceiling.

"Spades, you can't- " She retorted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "You cannot avoid me forever."

"How much do you wanna bet ?" You opened the door of the stall. Naoki steps back, granting you enough space to stand straight.

"I don't want an apology, 'Vinci. I didn't ask you to nose around in my business with the Miya's. If you wanted Kuroo so bad back then, you should've opened yah fuckin' mouth and told him."

"It was pointless. He used me as a rebound the same way you used him."

"Kuroo and I were strictly just friends. Him and I dating was out of the question."

"Guess he didn't quite get the memo. He moaned your name while he fucked me." Naoki tenses, her expression pinched and eyes narrow.

"You're lyin'." Your head drew back quickly. Disbelief audible as you shakily replied. "It doesn't matter, you two weren't officially together. Having a 'fuck buddy' dosen't equal having a boyfriend."

"Neither were you and the Miyas either."

Naoki shoved her hands in her pockets bumping your shoulder to get by. She cracks the bathroom door, looking back at you, her acrylic nails like talons.

"He's not who he's cracked up to be. From one girl to another, stand down. He's more trouble than he's worth, Spades."

With that, she exits, leaving you frustratedly speechless. Touching the base of your neck, your other hand grips the sink in front of you as you grimace.

You never called to mind Kuroo looking at you in a lovey-dovey way. He was a player, a delinquent who could have any girl he wanted back then and even now. Everything you both did together was totally platonic. No strings attached. Naoki's warning repeats itself back as a question from your lips.

"More trouble than he's worth?"

If you enjoyed this chapter, make sure to follow me for more. If you'd also like to be added to the tag list, comment below.

Taglist: @blissfullyrhea @nanastie @peachjaem00 @melbugs1 @jfoxxarts @s-1-xx

[deepinmummymatters]

Maximizing Efficiency: Tips for Drying Your Laundry

Drying your laundry efficiently not only saves time but also reduces energy consumption, which is good for both your wallet and the environment. Whether you have a traditional electric dryer or rely on a natural clothes dryer method, there are several strategies you can employ to make the most of your laundry routine. We will explore various techniques and tips to ensure your clean clothes dries quickly and efficiently. Sort Your Laundry Before you even begin the drying process, it is a good idea and essential to sort your laundry properly. Separate lightweight items like t-shirts and sheets from heavier items like jeans and towels. Drying similar fabric loads of laundry together ensures that they dry at the same rate, reducing overall drying time. Optimize Your Washer's Spin Cycle When completing your laundry operation and using a washing machine, make sure to select the highest possible spin speed. A high spin cycle removes more water from your clothes, making the drying of your laundry quicker and more efficient.  Use Dryer Balls or Tennis Balls If you have a tumble dryer, consider adding a few rubber dryer balls or even tennis balls into the mix. These simple tips help separate and fluff your laundry and are one of the best ways to avoid static cling, allowing warm air to circulate more freely in the dryer drum. As a result, your clothing items will dry faster and come out less wrinkled. Maintain Your Dryer Neglecting regular maintenance can result in decreased efficiency and even potential safety hazards. One crucial aspect of dryer maintenance is cleaning the lint filter after each use. It may seem like a small task, but a clogged lint filter not only slows down drying time but also poses a fire risk. Taking just a few seconds to remove the lint build-up will not only improve dryer performance but also ensure your home's safety. Another important maintenance tip is to regularly inspect and clean your dryer's venting system. Over time, lint and debris can accumulate in the exhaust ducts, leading to reduced airflow and longer drying times. A blocked venting system can also cause excessive heat build-up, increasing the risk of a fire hazard. By checking for any obstructions or damage in the venting system and cleaning it at least once a year, you can keep your dryer running efficiently and reduce the chance of unexpected issues down the line. In addition to these essential steps, ensuring that your dryer receives proper ventilation is crucial for its longevity and efficient performance. Make sure that your appliance has enough space around it for airflow so that it doesn't overheat or strain itself unnecessarily. Consider having professionals periodically inspect and service your dryer to identify any underlying issues that may affect its functionality or safety. With proper care and attention, you can maintain optimal working conditions for your dryer while enjoying hassle-free laundry days! Try to Line Dry Whenever possible, take advantage of natural drying methods to avoid high utility bills. Hang your clothes on a clothesline for best results whenever possible or a drying rack in a well-ventilated area. The sun and wind are highly effective and energy-efficient ways for line drying your laundry. As an added benefit, your air-dry clothes will have that fresh, outdoor scent. Time It Right If you use a tumble dryer, try to start the drying cycle in the laundry room during off-peak hours. Electricity rates are often lower during these times, which can help you save on energy use plus energy costs. Additionally, in the warmer months consider using a timer to run your dryer during the coolest parts of the day to prevent it from overheating your home. Avoid Overloading Overloading your dryer or drying rack can result in uneven drying and longer drying times. Leave enough space between clothes for proper air circulation. If you have to run multiple small loads, it's still more efficient than drying clothes in one large load. Shake and Smooth Before hanging clothes on a line or laying them on a rack especially relating to delicate items give each item a good shake to remove excess moisture and smooth out wrinkles. This will reduce drying time in the long run and minimize the need for ironing. Don't Overdo Fabric Softeners One downside of using too much fabric softener is that it can leave residue on your clothes. This residue can build up over time and cause fabrics to become less absorbent, resulting in towels that don't dry as well or workout clothes that retain sweat and odour. Additionally, excessive use of fabric softeners can lead to skin irritation for those with sensitive skin or allergies. Another reason why you should be mindful of how much fabric softener you use is its impact on the environment. Many traditional fabric softeners contain chemicals that are harmful both to our waterways and aquatic life when they are washed down the drain after each load. By using less or opting for eco-friendly alternatives such as vinegar or baking soda, you can reduce your carbon footprint while still achieving softer laundry. Damp and Mould Drying laundry indoors seems like a convenient solution when the weather is gloomy or you simply don't have an outdoor drying space. However, did you know that this seemingly innocent act can be a major contributor to dampness and mould? When wet clothes are hung indoors, the moisture from them evaporates into the air, increasing humidity levels in your home. This excess moisture then settles on surfaces like walls and ceilings, creating the perfect breeding ground for mould to thrive. Ensuring good ventilation is crucial in combating dampness caused by drying laundry indoors. Opening windows or using exhaust fans can help expel excess moisture and prevent its accumulation on surfaces. Investing in a dehumidifier can also be an effective solution. By reducing humidity levels, these devices help to inhibit mould growth and maintain a healthier indoor environment. It is important to remember that not only does mould damage the feel of your home but it also poses potential health risks. Exposure to mould spores can trigger allergies and respiratory issues and even affect immune system function.  Consider Eco-Friendly Dryers If you're in the market for a new dryer, consider investing in a more energy-efficient model. Look for those with Energy Star certification, which signifies they meet specific energy efficiency standards. Eco-friendly dryers are designed with energy efficiency in mind. They use advanced technology to reduce energy consumption and minimize their environmental footprint. Some models use heat pump technology that recycles hot air from the drum and reuses it for subsequent loads, resulting in less energy waste. Others employ moisture sensors that detect when clothes are dry and automatically shut off the machine, preventing unnecessary power usage. Apart from being environmentally friendly, eco-friendly dryers also offer benefits for your clothing and your wallet. These machines often have gentle drying cycles that help prolong the lifespan of garments by reducing wear and tear caused by excessive heat exposure. They can save you money on your utility bills over time due to their reduced energy consumption. Conclusion Drying your laundry efficiently is not only a practical way to save time and energy but also an environmentally friendly choice. By following these tips, you can make the most of your laundry drying routine, whether you use a dryer or prefer natural drying methods. You'll enjoy fresh, dry clothes in less time while reducing your environmental footprint. Read the full article