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[lex-the-flex]

Come Back to Me

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning(s): Basically porn with little plot. MEGA FLUFF, MEGA ANGST, MAJOR SADNESS + talks of character death, SMUT – 18+ oral (f! receiving), and precious aftercare + pillow talk.

A/N: No thoughts, just grieving smut with Jace. This CHOKEHOLD this character has on me and we’re only one episode into Season 2. I don’t know if I’ll continue to write for Jace, just wanted to share this idea.

He couldn't breathe no matter how hard he tried. The air just refused to enter and fill his lungs as the overwhelming scents of salt and snow continue to remain in his crimson cloak. 

You somehow manage to take away all the pain and sadness of grief just by standing beside him. Joining Jacaerys Velaryon on the balcony of your shared room, he just can’t wrap his mind around a calm state amidst the chaos. Briefly touching his shoulder, a long awaited sigh of relief escapes his lips.

“You okay?” You ask. 

“I’m fine.” He lies, turning to face you. 

Leaning his forehead against your own, the overpowering scent of sea salt and the faint smell of lilies lingers on your skin. 

Wrapping his arms around your frame, Jace holds you tight, never wanting to let go. Relishing in your presence, an unwelcome wave of emotions crosses over Jace. Something wild, yet filled with sadness takes over him almost instantly. However, instead of shedding tears, he acts on the other side of what he’s feeling. Jace slowly guides his lips against your earlobe, nipping at the sensitive skin.

“You truly are my guiding light in this world, Y/N. You are the one that I was thinking about when I was riding Bermax home. To have my lips on yours and my thoughts at the door while being lost in you. I want to fuck you until you scream so the whole Palace can hear. To let them know you’re mine.” Jace explains, pulling you closer.

Feeling your breath hitching in the back of your throat, Jace nibbles on your neck, and you surround your arms around his broad shoulders. Picking you up in a swift motion, Jace captures his lips on yours before walking back into the dark room.

Collapsing with the large desk, Jace gently sits you down, his dark brown orbs staring into your own, eager with lust.

“Enlighten me, my Prince. Let me know what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours.” You say, gasping as Jace unties the sash of your trousers.

Smirking in delight, Jace carefully undos the straps of your heels, and slides your trousers down your legs. Basking in your body, his once boyish eyes light up with a devilish intent.

“By the Gods… so sweet for me.” He states.

Running a series of hungry kisses along your legs, you uncontrollably shiver at the sensation. Gripping your hips in his fingers, Jace teases yours throbbing folds with his tongue, knowing how to get you numb.

“That’s my girl.” Jace whispers into your skin.

Closing his mouth around your entrance, Jace props your leg around his shoulder. Swirling his tongue past your opening, a ragged moan escapes your lips, and you run your fingers through his dark locks. Feeling your pulse rise in your fingertips, a strong growl emanates from Jace’s chest, allowing his hunger for your lust to break the very windows of the room.

Leaning your head back, multiple multicolored stars fill the darkness behind your closed lids. Briefly moving your hips against the wooden table, a tingling sensation starts to rise in your core, signaling that you’re reaching your end. 

“Jace, please. I can’t…” You beg, scrunching Jace’s dark curls in your fingers. 

Reaching up to cup your breast, Jace continues to venture deeper inside of you, determined to taste every inch of you. Suddenly, your legs spasm and you quickly reach your end. 

“…Jacaerys…!” You gasp, not caring if anyone hears you.

Jace’s grip around your hips loosens and he crawls up your body, cocooning your shaking form in his arms. Burying your face in his neck, the collective scents of Vermax, water lilies, and the vast ocean being a wonderful distraction from the events going on outside your room.

Gazing at Jace, the two of you erupt in a small moment of laughter and delightful smiles that felt long overdue. Running your fingers through Jace’s locks, you bring his chin up to face you.

“I love you, Jace. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” You address, tracing the outline of his strong face.

“And I you.” He vows, covering you with his cloak.

a/n pt. two ~ oml this man.

[rmytears]

○ alex cabot x female reader.

↳ summary: sesbian lex.

Christmas Eve at Home

The soft glow of Christmas lights bathed the room in hues of red and gold, their reflections dancing on the frosted windows. The scent of pine mingled with the faint aroma of mulled wine, and the faint hum of a holiday playlist played in the background. Alexandra Cabot sat on the edge of the couch, her blue eyes locked on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

You were sprawled across the plush cushions, wrapped in the softest red velvet robe Alex had gifted you earlier that evening. It was cinched loosely at your waist, teasing glimpses of the lace bralette and panties beneath—another one of Alex’s indulgent gifts.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?” the blonde murmured, her voice low and sultry. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her gaze sweeping over you like a caress.

You smiled shyly, tugging the robe tighter around you. “You’re just saying that because it’s Christmas.”

She chuckled, her lips curving into a smirk. “I don’t need an excuse to tell you how gorgeous you are.”

She rose gracefully, her presence commanding as she crossed the room to where you sat. The faint scent of her perfume—something dark and spicy—wrapped around you as she leaned down, her hands braced on either side of you.

“You’ve been such a good girl this year,” she purred, her lips brushing against your ear. “I think you deserve to be spoiled.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding as Alex’s fingers trailed along the edge of your robe, her touch feather-light.

“Alex,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she replied, her tone teasing as her lips brushed against your jawline.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushing under her intense gaze. “You’re… you’re not playing fair.”

Alex chuckled, her teeth grazing your earlobe before she pulled back to look at you. “Oh, baby, I haven’t even started playing yet.”

---

She guided you to the bedroom, the Christmas lights from the living room casting a warm glow down the hallway. The bed was already turned down, the sheets crisp and inviting. Alex sat you on the edge, her hands firm but gentle as she untied the sash of your robe.

“Let me see you,” she murmured, her voice soft but commanding.

You let the robe fall open, your skin prickling under her gaze as she took in the delicate lace that barely covered you. Alex’s eyes darkened, her tongue flicking over her bottom lip.

“Perfect,” she said, her voice thick with desire.

She knelt before you, her hands sliding up your thighs, her touch sending shivers through your body. Her lips followed, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, her breath warm against your skin.

“Alex,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in her blonde hair.

“Patience, sweetheart,” she murmured, her lips curving into a smirk. “I want to take my time with you.”

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving yours. You shivered under her touch, your breath hitching as her lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your hip.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice reverent.

---

Alex’s tongue was warm and soft as it flicked over your clit, her hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place. You arched against her, your fingers tightening in her hair as she worked you with practiced precision.

“Uhm Alex,” you gasped once again so far this evening, your voice trembling.

She hummed against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. “That’s it, baby,” she murmured, her voice muffled against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Her fingers joined her mouth, sliding inside you with ease, curling just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. You cried out, your hips bucking against her hand as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

But just as you felt yourself teetering on the brink, Alex pulled back, her fingers and mouth leaving you empty and aching.

“Not yet,” she said, her voice firm but laced with affection. “I’m not done spoiling you.”

You whimpered, your body trembling as she climbed onto the bed, her blue eyes smoldering with desire. She reached for the nightstand, pulling out a strap-on harness and slipping it on with practiced ease.

“Turn over,” she instructed, her voice soft but commanding.

You obeyed, your body trembling with anticipation as you positioned yourself on your hands and knees. Alex’s hands slid over your hips, her touch firm and reassuring.

“You’re so good for me,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

She entered you slowly, her movements deliberate, giving you time to adjust. The stretch was perfect, the fullness overwhelming as she began to move, her hips snapping against yours in a steady rhythm.

“Alex,” you moaned, your fingers gripping the sheets as she thrust into you.

“That’s it, baby,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “Take it all. You’re mine tonight.”

Her hand slid around to your front, her fingers finding your clit and circling it in time with her thrusts. You cried out, your body trembling as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” she whispered, her voice like velvet. “Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

With a final cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Alex held you through it, her hands steady and reassuring as she whispered soft praises in your ear.

When the aftershocks finally subsided, she pulled out gently, gathering you into her arms and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” she murmured, her voice filled with warmth and love.

You smiled sleepily, your head resting against her chest. “Best Christmas ever.”

And as the snow fell softly outside, you drifted off to sleep in Alex’s arms, feeling loved, cherished, and completely spoiled.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Let the Light In

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Fingering, male masturbation, smut. Word count: ~1.6k

Summary: Having stumbled back too late from the pub, Tom finds Lois and Douglas have locked him out for the night. Thankfully, the girl across the road takes pity on him.

Author's note: Day ten of the Smuffmas prompts - "bed sharing and accidental stimulation". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“Lois! Lois! Come on, let me up, don’t be tight!”

The shouting filters through to her subconscious, and she grumbles, slowly blinking her eyes open, mind foggy with sleep.

“Lois! It’s freezing out here!”

She flicks on the lamp on the bedside table, lifting her watch to look at the time.

Almost 1am. Bloody pillock.

She has lived opposite the Bennett family her entire life, and though she doesn’t know them well, they’re neighbourly, exchanging polite “hellos” when they pass in the street. Though Tom’s is usually accompanied by a wink that makes her skin feel too hot.

Over the last year or so, she’s grown used to being woken up by Tom stumbling back home at some ungodly hour, waking her up as he shouts for his sister, Lois, to open the window and let him up into their shared bedroom. He knows he’ll cop an earful from their dad, Douglas, if he comes in through the front door. It’s usually double locked anyway, so his key wouldn’t work even if he were to try.

Lois has never left him out on the street for this long though, but she can’t blame her, she’s probably sick of it by now.

“Lois!”

Fuck’s sake.

There’s no point in leaving him out there, his shouting will wake up half the street. She considers it a good job that her own dad works nights, and that her mum has taken to wearing earplugs to bed so that he doesn’t wake her when he returns in the early hours of the morning.

She sighs, throwing off the duvet and stepping out of bed. She parts the curtains, lifting the sash window and shivers as the coldness of the air outside chills her skin through her nightdress as she leans out.

Tom stands outside of his house, leaning back with a lit cigarette between his lips as he stares up at his bedroom window. He’s about to shout again, when she interrupts.

“You’re gonna wake the whole bloody street if you keep on!” She hisses.

He turns, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and exhales a tight line of smoke through pursed lips.

“She won’t let me up,” he calls back. “don’t s’pose there’s any room at your inn? It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow, after all.”

“It’s Christmas Eve right now. Have you got any idea what the time is?!”

“Tomorrow doesn’t start ‘til I wake up, sweetheart.”

He flashes a lopsided grin up at her, and she has to fight the urge to smile back as she feels familiar flutters in her stomach.

Cheeky git.

“Wait there,” she sighs, sliding the window closed.

She wraps herself in her dressing gown, picking her way carefully down the stairs, before switching on the hallway light and opening the front door.

Tom is there already, leaning against the doorframe, the crushed butt of his cigarette inches away from his feet.

“You’re a star. Shall I take the sofa then?” He asks, crowding the small space in which her family hangs their coats as she closes the door behind him.

“Absolutely not. Last thing I need is dad coming back from work and seeing you sprawled out in the living room, he’ll throw a fit. Shoes off.”

Tom bends down, unlacing and kicking off his shoes. “Where you putting me?”

“You can kip in my room. Bring those with you.”

“Oh,” he smirks, “if you insist.”

She rolls her eyes, making her way back upstairs, with Tom following close behind.

“You can sleep on the floor,” she tells him, chucking him the knitted blanket from the end of her bed, and the extra pillow she sleeps with.

“Thanks,” he sounds almost disappointed as he catches them, setting them down and busying himself with shrugging out of his jacket and leaving it on a heap on the floor with his shoes.

She had expected him to sleep fully clothed, so she is shocked when she hears the metallic clink of him opening his belt as he lowers his trousers. Feeling her skin prickle with heat, and her heartbeat begin to race, she quickly turns away, shedding her dressing gown and climbing into bed.

She pulls the duvet up around herself, remaining facing away as she listens to the rustle of clothing as he pulls off his jumper, and arranges his bedding.

When it finally grows quiet, she leans over to turn the lamp off and lays back down.

“Night then,” Tom says quietly.

“Night.”

She lays there in the darkness, eyes closed, willing herself to fall asleep and yet it won’t seem to pull her under. It isn’t helped by the relentless shifting around and sighing she can hear coming from the floor beside the bed.

After five minutes of listening to Tom toss and turn, and grumble to himself, she groans and finally switches the lamp back on, leaning down to look at him.

“Can you not just go to sleep?!” She whispers in frustration.

He pulls himself to sit up, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s uncomfortable down here. And I’m cold.”

She presses her lips into a tight line, before exhaling loudly through her nose. “Fine. Come on then.”

Shuffling to the far side of the mattress, she throws the duvet back for Tom and he climbs in eagerly.

“Smashing,” he says with a wink, before turning the lamp off.

They lay back to back and, in her tiny single bed, the angle pushes both of them to the far edges of the mattress, neither one of them comfortably having enough space to stretch out and go to sleep.

“This is awful,” she complains quietly.

“Mmm,” he agrees. “Let me just…”

Tom rolls over and her breath catches in her throat as she feels his chest press against her back, his body slotting itself against hers.

Admittedly, it’s comfier like this, they both have more room, and yet she is certain she won’t sleep a wink with the heat of his body so close to hers. He must be able to feel the way her heart thuds in her ribcage.

He shifts slightly and she feels the press of a bulge against her backside, she knows precisely what it is, and it sets her pulse racing. Instinctively, without thinking, she presses back and his breath shudders hotly against the shell of her ear, his nose pressed into her hair.

Tentatively, his fingertips spread out over her hip, pulling her back against him as he rolls his hips forward, and she feels sticky heat pool between her legs as he hardens against her.

She’s not entirely sure why she’s allowing this, just knows that it feels good and she doesn’t want it to stop as they move rhythmically together, both chasing a friction that neither can quite achieve.

“Have…have you ever…” he whispers, trailing off.

She swallows thickly, afraid to disappoint him, but wanting to be honest. “No.”

“Can I touch you?” 

His hand tightens on her hip and she nods. “Yes.”

Slowly, his fingers trail down her thigh, until he reaches the hem of her nightgown. His hand travels the same path again, only this time upwards and against her bare skin.

She whimpers as he cups her mound through the cotton of her knickers, the pads of his fingers pressing against the dampness of the gusset.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he breathes shakily.

“Sorry,” she whispers back, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

“Not a bad thing, darlin’,” she can hear the smile in his voice, “nothin’ to be sorry for at all.”

His hand slides upwards, pressing flat against her lower abdomen, and then slides down again, creeping beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“Fuck,” Tom grits out, as his index finger slides between her folds, gathering her wetness before circling her pearl.

She buries her face into the pillow, to stifle the moan that leaves her. She has touched herself before, but it has always been hesitant, secretive, just enough to feel nice. This makes her feel as though her body is on fire.

Tom shuffles behind her, and for a moment she wonders what he is up to, until she feels the brush of his knuckles against her back. She doesn’t need to look to know that he’s pulled his cock out and is stroking himself. The idea makes her throat run dry.

His breaths come in hot puffs, the slick sound of him pleasuring himself, coupled with the squelch of his fingers as they slide and circle against her is lewd, and she knows she ought to feel ashamed, but she is desperate to fall from the edge that he’s eagerly pushing her towards.

She screws her eyes shut when his digit slides inside of her, her walls clenching around him as he curls his finger upwards, dragging against her and making her thighs shake.

“So tight,” he groans, before withdrawing, circling faster against her sensitive bundle of nerves with newly applied arousal.

She whines, arching against him and she feels the movement of the hand he has on himself speed up, as quiet grunts escape him.

“You’re close, aren’t ya?”

“Please…”

“Let go. Come for me.”

She bites down on the pillow, muffling the squeal that bursts out of her as her thighs clamp around Tom’s wrist, and her entire body shudders with the force of her peak. She feels like a bottle of pop that someone has shaken too hard, every part of her body coming apart in tiny bubbles.

Tom presses his face harder into her hair, his nose touching her scalp as he groans low in relief, his hips stuttering against hers as he finds his own release.

Slowly she turns to face him. His blue eyes shine in the moonlight, his full lips slightly parted as he breathes raggedly. He leans in, brushing his lips against hers, but not quite kissing her as they lay there together in blissful, tired silence.

“You’ll let me in next time, won’t you?” He rasps.

The double meaning is not lost on her, and yet it does nothing to affect her answer.

“Yes.”

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[f1version]

ONCE UPON A DECEMBER ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ CS55

pairing: prince!Carlos Sainz Jr. x princess!reader ( she/her )

summary: Once upon a December, be loved by Carlos was something your heart used to know.

warnings/info: royalty au — not in the present, angst, fluff, non explicit character death (you don’t see it happen), fighting, revenge, reader is 20 and Carlos is 22. also lewis and lando are extras in this, charles is mentioned.

word count: 1.2k

note: literally how did we get here. this was supposed to be holiday-themed, but i guess is just winter-themed, kind of. In my defense, the story starts on the 25th and mainly happens in December. I couldn't resist, this song just transported me to another reality.

i was deeply inspired by the song: once upon a december by christy altomare. i listened it for as long as it took me to write this. enjoy!!!

snowglobe, a holiday special

You stood by the window, red dress covering the high heels on your feet. Almost eight minutes had passed since you asked to be left alone in your chamber. You are anxious; a small part of you is afraid of the royals in the ballroom, which is why the golden band on your finger is twirled over and over again. It's calming. Fourteen days ago, there was a red diamond surrounded by white. Fourteen days since those lovely days in early December, warm brown eyes shimmering as your world watched you walk down the aisle.

You smile. Loving Carlos is past, present, and future now, wrapped in his arms for an eternity. 

“Mi amor,” a deep voice reverberates around the room; it’s not foreign, yet you give a small jump out of your feet, caught off guard. You turn around, and Carlos is standing before you in a black suit, adorned with medals and a sash wrapped around his figure. He gifts you that blinding smile of his as tender fingers reach your hand, prompting you to twirl for him. “You look beautiful." There’s a pause. “I don’t believe there are enough words to let you know.”

“Thank you, mi vida,” you smile. “So do you.”

Hands travel to your waist, holding you close. His fingertips slide down the red fabric, roaming your corset as he leans down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “Are you ready?” He asks, “It’s almost time to greet our guests.”

“I am ready,” you answer, looking down, verifying your theory that Carlos doesn't have shoes on. “Though you don’t seem so ready, Carlitos.”

“Pequeños detalles, mi amor,” Small details, my love, he teases, and you laugh, “It’s snowing, did you see?” He changes topics, holding your waist firm as he turns you around, avoiding any small incidents. “White Christmas for us.”

You had barely noticed, too focused on remembering. The gardens, kingdom, and beyond are covered by a thin layer of snow, the sun glimmering over them. “It’s beautiful”

“It is,” he mutters, walking forward so his chest is pressed against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Almost as beautiful as you, mi princesa,” he plants two kisses down your neck. “Soon to be Queen."

You giggle, never been happier. Having Carlos by your side, giving you all the love one could wish for—the love that you deserve—is calming, so for the first time in months, you allow yourself to think about turning 21 early next year, the crown falling over your head as the rightful ruler of this land, Carlos by your side as Prince. It isn’t as nerve-wracking as it used to be.

You turn around, lips looking for his and falling in perfect rhythm. “I love you.” 

“I love you more.” 

You’re home building in the eyes of the others when there's a knock on the door, and as permission is given, Ms. Danielle appears. “Excuse me, Your Majesties, it’s time for your entrance."

“Oh god, Carlos, please go put on your shoes!" you exclaim, pushing him slightly. Carlos laughs, sneaking a small kiss on your lips before running away. “Thank you, Danielle."

One blink of a memory takes you down the stairs, the dim glow of the ballroom wraps around people you know and soon will. You and Carlos have parted ways to create small talk with said people; he's across the room, laughing at one of the awful jokes the Prince of Monaco loves to tell. Around you, there’s a group of kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, lines of royal blood enchanted by your presence, questions and anecdotes, laughter, and gossip taking your attention.

A firm grip on your arm turns you around, and now Sir Lewis Hamilton, Head of Army, is in your line of vision. You smile, except unsettling eyes meet yours, and suddenly, if you remember well, laughter fades into screams. People you know, will know, and could’ve known run frightened. You are under attack, and soldiers start defending. Carlos is screaming, giving them orders. He's helping people get to safety, but nobody is giving it to him. 

You want to run towards him, but you are ushered away. You can’t see him any longer; the hands keeping you safe are not the same as they used to be. And you try to leave the safe room, knowing you are trained to fight for it, but they don't let you. They don't let you fall by his side.

Memories fade, jump, and dance. You’re in a meeting room, tension is building up as seconds prance through time. Sir Lewis is defending a point. You feel anger strangling your body. “You must have kept him safe!”

“They took him way before we could reach him, Your Majesty,” he argues.

“How?” You scream. “Do we not have enough people? Where were those who swore to protect his head?”

“They were defending, protecting, or dead before we noticed,” he defends. “Carlos was focused on protecting the people too.”

“I do not care.” You feel lightheaded, fury arrogating your body. “He must have been moved to the saferoom with me.”

“You are more valuable than he was."

“He was soon to be your prince!”

“And you are our future queen,” he shouts back.

Silence falls over the room, and you've never hated your future title so much. You feel eager for it, yes, but not for the right reasons.

“I wish for you to look me in the eye and repeat all of it, Lewis,” you say. He stands still, dropping his tense shoulders, and doesn't say anything. You walk closer, eyes buried in his, searching for malice—there’s none; they’re grieving. “Know your place, Lewis.”

He nods. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

“I want you to find him,” You demand, not breaking eye contact, “No matter what you must do or how much time passes, I want the man who killed Carlos gone.”

There’s a sudden hunger in his eyes as he nods, leaving the place. You turn around, but you’re no longer in the meeting room. Scaping the sea of memories, you face your reality.

You stand by the window, red dress covering the high heels on your feet, patiently waiting for the right person to enter the room. There’s no anxiety in it; there’s anticipation—the golden band twirling around your finger over and over again.

It’s a beautiful snow day. Fourteen years ago, you were standing right here, mid-December, with a pair of brown eyes loving you, caressing you, and not having enough words to describe you. That type of love is barely a memory, buried six feet below his statue in the gardens he so dearly loved.

There’s a knock on the door. “Your Majesty?"

“Yes, Lando?"

“Sir Lewis is back; no severe injuries,” the boy announces. You hum, already knowing his next announcement: “He’s dead.”

You smile, looking down at your ring. “Thank you, Lando. Get back to your duties now.”

And as the curly-haired leaves, you wonder if this is what revenge feels like. Cold loneliness with a sense of fulfillment. There’s a crown heavy on your head with a target on it, but you are not bothered enough to care about it. Long ago, you could have held mercy over the man terrorizing kingdoms around you, fought until his defeat, but now feelings as such are things your heart used to know.

Your faint memories of Carlos lie in rest, avenged on a white December morning.

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah @nouvellevqgue @iloveyou3000morgan @carsgovroomm . . . add yourself here

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Happy Birthday to the lovely @estrellami-1 I hope you're feeling better and that you're having a wonderful day ❤️

Eddie wasn't sure who the party was supposed to be for, he wasn't sure Steve knew either to be fair. It was someone's birthday party, he'd seen a sash on one of the girls, couldn't say for sure which one though. And of course it was hosted, as all parties were these days, at the Harrington residence.

He remembers Wayne telling him that no-one had seen Harrington Senior or his wife since just after the Byers kid went missing, so Eddie supposed that made this massive mansion all Steve's.

And it'd been obvious since his massive blow up with Wheeler that he'd just stopped giving a fuck.

So Tommy and his band of merry fuckheads organised parties in Steve's house, and made a fortune out of it too, even though Steve wasn't really even friends with any of them anymore.

Not that Eddie cared. He didn't. The bigger the parties, the more parties they had, the more money he made. It was all the same to him.

Just sometimes, Steve would catch his eye across a classroom or like now across a party and Eddie thought that he looked kinda… lonely. Not that he was sure why Steve would choose to be that way, he might've fallen from grace but the guy was still gorgeous, he could have anyone he wanted; but he just seemed to wander ghostlike around the edges of life these days.

It seemed like forever since Eddie had last seen him smile, not sneer or grimace like he tended to now but a proper eye crinkling, dimple showing smile. Not for a lack of trying on Eddie's part of course, he'd taken to acting like a jester trying to get the fallen king to even so much as smirk, but his attempts haven't worked so far.

He thought he'd managed it earlier, during English when they were discussing male protagonists and he'd said Steve would make a pretty good Mr Darcy and winked exaggeratedly at him but his face had just gone through a multitude of expressions before he'd huffed in annoyance and leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed, staring grumpily out of the window.

Eddie didn't know why he was so determined to fix him. They weren't friends, they were barely even acquaintances, but Wayne always said he had a tendency for strays and even though Steve's house was brimming with people, Eddie knew as well as Steve did that if he didn't have all this, he'd be well and truly alone, which thinking about it was probably why he was letting the dickhead jocks walk all over him.

Tonight was the third party Eddie's worked here in as many weeks and he's made a fortune but Tommy decided to start a fight with the birthday girl's boyfriend, which is one way to kill a party he supposes, so now everyone's starting to make their way home, groups of teens staggering their way down the middle of the road; which is just plain stupid really, they're all going to get caught, not that Eddie gives a fuck, keeping the cops busy on the main roads gives him chance to get away unnoticed.

He knows better than to draw attention to himself like that, he learned a long time ago to only work parties with a good escape route, so he heads straight to the sliding doors, that way he can slip out through the backyard and take his chances with whatever creatures live in the forest.

That's the plan anyway.

Until…

"Eddieeee!!" Steve yells, drunk as a skunk and half dangling out of the sunlounger he's supposed to be sitting in, reaching towards him and making grabby hands.

"Harrington," he greets wearily, he's been surreptitiously watching Steve all night, he knows he's had four too many and knows all too well how unpredictable drunk people can be, if it wasn't for the fact that he and Wayne need the money he wouldn't even be here.

Steve just sulks, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout, all big sad eyes, "Don't call me that," he mutters. Eddie doesn't say anything, just rocks on the balls on his feet and watches as Steve tries and fails to right himself, "Help?" he pleads like a toddler and Eddie can't help feeling endeared, he sighs, shaking his head to himself as he walks over to the sunlounger, picking Steve up under the arms, like the baby he's acting like and gets him settled properly.

"There you go," Eddie mutters, patting him gently on the head.

"Thanks," Steve mumbles, a surprised look on his face and a blush spreading across his cheeks, tapping the space in front of him in invitation for Eddie to sit and as much as part of him thinks it's a terrible idea, he knows if he leaves he'd be leaving him alone in this state and he just can't do that, so he sits.

"Hi," Eddie says, for a lack of anything else to say.

"Hi," Steve greets, a dopey smile on his face blinking owlishly at him, but then his face shifts like he's just remembered he's supposed to be annoyed with him, "Why'd you call me that earlier?" Steve asks petulantly.

Eddie frowns, he hasn't called Steve anything, at least not that he can remember, "Your name?" he clarifies.

Steve shakes his head excessively, "Mr Darcy!" he spits with a snarl, like it's a swear word, "You've been nice to me for weeks and then you went and said that!" he whines.

Suddenly the weariness is back in Eddie's stomach, tries to think why Steve might be insulted and comes up empty, "I don't know, does generous, kind and good looking not suit you?" he babbles before he can really think about how that sounds coming from another guy.

Steve's face does something complicated, he opens his mouth to say something, shuts it, his face changing expression, opens and closes his mouth again before settling on a confused but soft little "oh".

Now that he knows he's not about to get punched, Eddie relaxes a bit, and curiosity killed the cat or whatever because against his better judgement he asks, "What did you think I meant?"

Steve shrugs and looks forlornly at the ground, "What everyone else thinks. That I'm an elitist, condescending wanker. That you'd been being nice to me as a joke so it'd hurt all the more when you were mean. I got drunk because I was sad because I thought we were friends but you were just playing a prank on me," Steve tells him and there's such sincerity and pain in his eyes it hurts to even look at him.

But Eddie can't help it, he's beyond surprised so he can't stop his eyebrows hitting his hairline, "Friends?" The fallen king of Hawkins High wants to be his friend? Was hurt when he thought Eddie wasn't his friend? Cares at all what Eddie thinks about him? That's way beyond his comprehension.

Steve just smiles dopily at him, lifting Eddie's chin with a gentle finger to make Eddie look at him and it's like being gut punched because who'd've thought this sweet, vulnerable guy was hiding inside Steve Harrington this whole time?

"Yes, friends! Do you wanna be my friend, Eddie?" And all Eddie can do is nod because he's been thrown back into a memory long since forgotten, of two little boys playing together in the forest, games of pirates and cowboys and aliens and those same hazel eyes looking deep into his soul and asking that very same question.

Jesus H Christ!

A gust of wind blows through the yard making Steve shiver bodily but given his clumsy movements earlier, Eddie wonders how to get him inside without risking him falling in the pool, because everyone else has definitely already left and Eddie can swim but not well enough to rescue someone who's drunk and not fully in control of all their limbs.

But Steve for all his height and his muscles isn't actually all that heavy, not in comparison to band equipment, he could probably manage…

Eddie twists slightly away from Steve, "Right, hop on," he instructs, tapping his shoulder. Steve just gives him a puzzled look, Eddie smiles encouragingly, "I'm gonna give you a piggyback indoors. I don't want you to drown!"

Steve smiles then, really smiles, and if Eddie knew it was this easy he'd've done it weeks ago, and wraps his arms loosely around Eddie's neck and his legs tightly around his waist.

Eddie tries not to think too closely about it, he's known for a long time that he's queer, knows full well endearing, pretty jocks are his type, knows that tightening in his chest isn't because Steve is heavy but more because their cheeks are smushed together and they're sharing the same breath and Eddie can smell his aftershave and the beer he's been drinking and for some reason when it's coming from Steve it isn't making him want to hurl.

The house is an absolute shittip but whoever was last out at least had the decency to turn off the music and turn out all the lights, so Eddie just slides the door shut behind them and heads straight for the stairs. Steve grips a little tighter, leaning into Eddie making balancing easier but other than that he makes no effort to leave Eddie's grasp.

He's waddling up the stairs but only because Steve's long, long legs are in the way. A secret part of Eddie thinks about doing this regularly, having Steve this close, so pliable and snuggly. Eddie feels a little guilty about it but he can't help himself from filing the memory away for rainy days when he feels sad, it's just such a priceless moment, chances are this is never gonna happen again.

"Which one's yours?" he asks when they reach the landing and he's faced with several closed doors. Steve doesn't say anything, just sighs heavily and points Eddie in the right direction.

Eddie steps forward, twisting the doorknob, the door swinging open, and flicking the light on to reveal his room looks… exactly how Eddie expected it to and suddenly he can't keep the fond smile off his face, because of course Steve has plaid wallpaper and matching curtains, it's so cliche it's adorable.

He walks over to the bed, turns so he's facing the door and drops Steve unceremoniously onto the mattress making him giggle uncontrollably. Eddie turns back to watch him because how can he not? He made Steve giggle! It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, even when he breathes in too fast and he snorts, his eyes are all crinkled in the corners, showing off his dimples and his perfectly straight teeth, he really is just perfect.

Eddie tries not to let his affection bleed through onto his face but he must do a pretty poor job because when Steve opens his eyes to look at him, his breath hitches and he stops laughing. And Eddie kicks himself because the house is far too silent without Steve's quiet laughter. He needs to get out of Steve's bedroom but he can't leave without getting him some provisions for the morning. He glances around and spots the ensuite in the corner, nipping inside and grabbing a glass of water and a packet of paracetamol from the medicine cabinet, wandering back out to leave them on the bedside, dragging the wastepaper basket closer to the bed just in case.

Steve is now more settled in bed, head on his pillow, snuggled up under the covers, Eddie smiles, putting on his persona so he can make it out of here alive and hopefully with his heart still intact because if he gets any cuter Eddie isn't sure he'll be able handle it.

"Okay, my liege! Now thou art safely in thy bedchamber, I shall bid thee adieu," Eddie says with a bow, he feels okay about leaving him now he's got him all set up and safely in bed.

Steve grins at his dramatics but frowns when what Eddie said sinks in, "Wait!" he yells unnecessarily given Eddie hadn't really made any attempt to leave, even though that's what he said he was going to do.

Eddie's eyebrows raise all by themselves, reaching new heights when Steve pats the bed beside him, "Stay," he whispers and how is Eddie supposed to deny him? He can't even use Wayne as an excuse because the poor bloke's at work, all Eddie would be going home to would be a cold trailer and crap TV, how could that ever compare?

He tries to think of a reason because this is so far from a good idea but Steve wants to be friends and he so clearly needs a friend and Eddie can do that, he can be here for his friend.

"You sure?" he checks but when Steve nods vigorously in reply all his misgivings leave him, he sits on the edge of the bed as far from Steve as he can get, leaning back on his hands, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

Except Steve doesn't say anything, he just gets a hold of his wrist and pulls knocking Eddie flat onto his back, his head landing in Steve's lap and it happens so quickly all Eddie can do is blink up at him. Steve smiles like he's won the jackpot and starts running his fingers through Eddie's hair like he's petting a cat and Eddie daren't even breathe let alone move but it feels so good his toes are curling in his Docs and when Steve starts to giggle again he realises it's because he's enjoying it so much he's making little noises in the back of his throat.

"Sorry," Eddie mutters but Steve just shakes his head fondly and continues his ministrations, just watching Eddie watching him but it's been a long day, between school and the party and Eddie can feel his eyes drooping no matter how hard he tries to fight it.

He isn't sure how long he lays there for but his legs have been dangling over the edge so long even his shins have pins and needles when Steve rouses him with a gentle tugging of his hand and a whispered "C'mon, get in!"

Eddie does as he's asked, absentmindedly kicking off his Docs and getting settled on top of the blankets, both of them laying on their sides facing one another.

"Night, Stevie," Eddie mumbles, already half asleep, only just feeling Steve place his hand into his own, interlinking their fingers and leaving a kiss on his knuckles with a whispered, "Goodnight, love."

(I hated this fucking ending so much because I did the typical thing of thinking of it without writing it down and not to give tmi but whilst in the shower I just remembered I wanted it to be "Goodnight, Teddy." and now I'm just mentally kicking the crap out of myself because I posted it with the wrong ending 😭😭😭 sorry @estrellami-1)

[lucielovekj]

Fantastic interactions gay clubbing w my cousin at the weekend

As I was exiting the bathroom stall the person queueing outside who was covered in glitter and looked like a fairy gasped and said “oh I absolutely love your hair!” with the sweetest and most genuine look on her face.

Dude in a kilt and purple suit jacket who appeared to be out on his own absolutely giddy when I told him how much I liked his outfit

Group of 4 grey haired bears with pink concert shirts on for the singer they’d seen (who I won’t name lest I doxx myself lmao) giggling when I leaned in and said “well I wonder where you’ve all been!”

Gorgeous girl and what I assume was her girlfriend both gushing over my makeup (!!!) and being thoroughly confused by the cutout on my t-shirt (tiddy window, basically)

Middle aged gay couple enthusiastically spinning to Cotton Eyed Joe to a potentially dangerous degree in a crowd of very unprepared people (as it should be. true school disco energy.)

Me, my cousin and one other group being the only ones actually doing the Cha Cha Slide on a packed dance floor. Not for the gays, I guess?

Guy who’d made a flower out of the glow sticks approaching me and attaching it to my necklace with a huge smile (which I then handed on to a twink in gorgeous, absolutely insane heels)

And the woman out for her 44th who I congratulated on her engagement before actually reading her sash, who briefly told me about her kids at home and gave me the shot she didn’t want bc it was like 2am and she was tired, lmao.

[jaysficarchive]

The Girl With the Pink Bow

Synopsis: She catches a glimpse of their black uniforms embroidered with gold out of the restaurant's window. Motorcycles with loud engines passed by, most of the riders not paying attention to her. Except for one.

Relationship(s): Takashi Mitsuya/Momoka Oshiro (OC)

Misc: First time writing TR stuff in a long time. Wanted to write about the first time Momoka and Mitsuya met.

@peachyblkdemonslayer

Since coming to Tokyo, Momoka went through several experiences at once. She went to a new school, made new friends, and now lived with her grandmother. As much as she missed Kyoto, she found herself endeared to her new city.

Now sitting in a booth of the Paradise Grill restaurant, she scribbled away at a coloring book while humming. Satsumi, a friend from school, invited her and a few others over for lunch. Momoka really liked Satsumi. She was tough, caring, and an excellent cook.

"Hey, girl!"

Momoka looked up at Miyoko, Pearly, Rumiko, and the Sameyama sisters walking in. Their clothes varied; from Miyoko's more stylish, model off duty look to Rumiko's kenjutsu robes. She excitedly waved and invited them over to the booth.

"Hey! You guys made it!"

"I wouldn't miss lunch on Sumi for the world," Miyoko said, sliding next to the girl. "You should see her bentos. They're gifts from God."

As if on cue, Satsumi came strolling out, pushing a cart with plates of food in front of her. One of the perks of being a cook for your family's restaurant. "Lunch is served, ladies."

Momoka clapped her hands with joy. As she reached for her plate, a light flashed in the corner of her eye. Setting down the plate, she dug into a bit of the meal. While eating, she turned her head and saw the light coming closer, sounds of engines following behind. At that moment, she sees them. Satsumi's words from a fateful walk home echoed in the back of her subconscious.

"If you hear a bunch of motorcycles, look the other way. If you see a gold manji symbol, run. Run as fast and far as you can. Don't look back until you're safe."

She catches a glimpse of their black uniforms embroidered with gold out of the restaurant's window. Motorcycles with loud engines passed by, most of the riders not paying attention to her. Except for one. His hair was a silvery lilac and lavender eyes. A white sash tied behind his back. Both of them held each other's gazes for a minute. Then, he smiled at her before driving off.

Momoka blinked slowly, trying to process if what happened was real. Who was that? Why did he smile at her? She swore she'd seen his face before but couldn't remember where.

"Hello? You there?" Pearly waved her hand in the girl's face. "Sumi made all this delicious food and you've barely eaten it."

"Huh? Oh, sorry..." Momoka went back to her food, still thinking about the boy who smiled at her.

The face of the girl with the pink bow wouldn't leave Mitsuya's mind's eye. That bow, her curly hair, and her pink outfit made her look like the dolls his sisters played with. It was hard to believe she was real. She seemed so familiar.

"Who the hell were you smiling at, Mitsuya?" Draken, a tall young boy with a blonde ponytail, asked.

"No one," he replied. He hoped to see the beauty again. Maybe then he'd remember where he seen her.

[not7wu]

Chapter One: Where Are You?

Where are you?  Maybe you’re at home.  Maybe you’re sprawled out on the couch or cuddled up in bed.  Maybe the TV is playing in the background, or maybe you’re sitting in complete silence.  

Is it real silence though?  A true absence of sound?  Or have you gone deaf to the song your home is singing?  Not a metaphorical song of comfort, safety, and warmth, but a soft cacophony of onomatopoeias.  The hum of the fridge and clacking of the icemaker, the almost imperceptible high frequency buzz from ancient wired poles outside your window, the combination of creaking floorboards distinctive to the weight and stride of each person or pet.  You hear this song so often that it falls into the background, cataloged as white noise until you no longer notice it except instinctually.  

And so, instinctually, you know you are not home. 

A computer cooling fan is whirring with a coded beep every few minutes, but you don’t own a computer or laptop.  Honking vehicles from traffic is muffled through glass, but your home is on a corner with a stop sign.  A faucet is lazily dripping close by, but your bathroom is next to the kitchen on the other side of the house.

Your eyes snap open and the first thing you register is pale gray morning light and computer monitors illuminating the room.  Strange, since you religiously use black out curtains and usually can’t sleep if you mentally know there’s a light source in the room.  That’s why the little red indicator on the TV in your room has black tape over it.  There is no TV in this room.  

Next on the list of strange are the wooden beams exposed on a vaulted ceiling, a far cry from your cookie-cutter popcorn ceiling.  White walls instead of navy painted walls.  Even more alarming, the feel of fine silk sheets compared to your Target-brand cotton ones.  You didn’t know you could discern how expensive fabric is by skin contact alone, but you decide to put a pin in it because your stark nakedness is taking top priority in the forefront of your mind.  Alarmed, you lunge up, jarringly wide awake and alert, dragging the aforementioned silk sheets with you.  Expensive they may be, but a poor shield to the cold of the unknown.

The room’s decor is, in polite terms, eccentric.  Simple maroon bedspread, no extra pillows, but instead swimming in a sea of Maplestory plushies.  Messy desk with a triple monitor gaming PC.  An alarming amount of Mario figurines scattered about.  It would honestly read otaku frat bedroom if it wasn’t for the sturdy, non-IKEA bed frame, the matching nightstands and reading sconces, the balcony sliding door with actual drapes sashed on either side, and the matching patio furniture beyond.  An adult otaku bedroom then, which you honestly can’t judge because your own room is a shrine to seven Korean men who have no idea you exist.  You shake your head from that distracting rabbit hole because, hello, you’re naked.  Your priorities should be finding clothes, finding your phone, getting home, and THEN daydreaming about BTS.  

On the nightstand closest to you sits neatly folded pajamas and a sticky note.  The handwritten script is blurry at first.  You have to squint and when they come into focus, it almost looks familiar. 

“If you’re freaking out because you’re naked, it’s your own fault.  You said fuck it and took off your clothes anyway.”  

You press your fingers to your temple.  Ugh.  Of course.  Did you get blackout drunk again last night?  Are the Consequences of your actions, with a capital C, catching up to you?  However, your despair is interrupted because you can’t help noticing the design of the pajamas.  Holy shit.  This original striped BT21 RJ design is no longer in production, reselling for hundreds of dollars on Ebay, AND it’s in your size.

The sound of a distant door creaking open lights a fire under your ass.  With a quiet gasp, you leap off the bed and panic-shove your limbs into the pajamas as you hear footsteps pad in the distance and a door clicking closed.  You pause to listen for any other movement.  Hearing none, you rummage around for your iPhone, haphazardly stripping the bed of sheets, punting the now scattered plushies to scour under the bed, and combing through the nightstands and the desk.  Unfortunately, you come up empty.  Without your phone, you feel naked yet again, weaponless without the tool to call for help and no way to accurately retrace your steps from last night.

This could all be a prank, but you don’t know anyone who would take it this far.  Your eternal roommate and cousin, Jo, is like a big sis to you and would never go this far.  You also couldn’t be at a hookup’s home since lately you haven’t had the energy to get it on.  You’re pretty sure the last thing you did was fold laundry with Jo, and then you passed out while listening to “Tonight” on your sleep playlist and hugging RJ, so, drunken blackout/hookup theory was out.  But the biggest clue–You unlock the balcony door and step out.  Looking around at the sleepy cityscape, you think, “I’m definitely not in smalltown Sheboygan, Wisconsin anymore.”

Clusters of skyscrapers brush the sky.  Businesses and apartment buildings crowd each other with scattered green squares of what you assume to be parks.  There’s a distant river cut by steel bridges.  Taxis and cars wend around wide six-lane streets.  The apartment building you're in is frickin’ tall.  You’re not used to buildings going beyond ten stories, but you must be at least 20 stories high.  You’re not sure if it’s vertigo or the overwhelming anxiety building, but your vision begins to blur around the edges as air struggles to enter your lungs.  You force yourself to slow your breathing as your heart batters your sternum like sharp lead and your brain races like a runaway train with its breaklines cut because you can’t make sense of how you could be wherever here is.  Plopping yourself down on a cushioned seat, you squeeze your eyes shut, teeth barred.  You must be having a dream, a very vivid dream.  Your forearm scrapes against paper where another sticky note has adhered itself to you.  

“This is not a dream.”  

….Okaaaaaay.  That was convincing.  You stumble back inside and weigh your options.  Make a ruckus and demand answers from whoever lives here?  Or avoid people and sneak out?  

Haha, who are you kidding?  Of course, Plan Sneak Out wins by a landslide because confrontation is not your middle name.  You’re not even sure if you’re not still dreaming despite all these helpful little sticky notes, which you discover also label the three doors in the room.  

“Walk-in closet.”

“Hallway.”

“Bathroom.”

Thank you, mysterious sticky notes.  You head to the hall and quietly close the door behind you, pausing in puzzlement.  Another sticky note on this side of the door reads, “Jin”, which, of all things, almost pushes you over the edge into nonsensical laughter.  It’s the same name as your BTS bias.  What a coincidence.  

The door you exit is the last one at the very end.  More doors line either side of the hall, leading to an entryway illuminated by a soft warm light.  All is quiet as you slowly sneak towards the entryway, reading the sticky notes that label the doors with increasing incredulity.  

“Yoongi”

“JK”

“Tae & Jimin”

“Namjoon”

“Hobi”

Ha.  There’s just no way.  No.  Way.  Nope.  This is a sign.  A sign that you’ve gone crazy.  You’ve finally gone full delulu.  This is what you get for reading fanfics until two in the morning.  Tumblr was fine, but when you got sucked into the trenches of AO3, you knew you were on a one way trip down the Montero stripper pole to hell.  You nervously tug and tease a loose thread on your limited edition pajamas and debate throwing your consciousness off the speeding train in your head, wondering if it would hurt as badly psychologically as it would physically.  You just wanna return to Jin’s bed–Ha!  Jin’s bed–and go back to sleep, hoping it’s all just a weird dream you can laugh about later.  

There is no clear exit to be seen.  All the doors so far have been labeled.  Could it be a trick?  Could one of those doors actually be the exit?  The thought of having to test those doors with the possibility of finding someone on the other side has you near hyperventilating.  Five, four, three, two, one.  Okay.  The Five Senses trick to deescalate your panic attack.  What five things do you see?  Five, you see a black leather sectional with a sizeable mess of blankets.  Four, you see a dimly lit chandelier over an industrial dining table.  Three, you see an open concept living room with an impressively large flat screen TV that almost takes up an entire wall and a modern kitchen with a sturdy island range stovetop.  Two, you see floor to ceiling windows that stretch the length of the east wall, if the sun peeking behind the cityscape is any indication.  One, you see six sticky notes lined in intervals on the glass wall.

What four things do you feel?  Four, the hem of your thin cotton pajamas is becoming damp from your sweat as you rub it between your fingers.  Three, the black stone wall is smooth as you run your hand along the length.  Two, you press your palm against the biting chill of the windowpane.  One, you tug on the crisp yellow paper and read the first sticky note.

“1. You’re in Seoul, Korea.”  

The view of the city is incredible and you try to find any foreign indication that the note speaks truth.  The signs on the buildings and electronic billboards don’t seem to be in Hangul, but you’re definitely not in Sheboygan.  You could be in Chicago for all you know, but the note definitely said Seoul.  You’re not really in Seoul, are you?  You move onto the next note.

“2. You really are in Seoul.”

It’s almost like the sticky notes are talking to you.

“3. These notes are talking to you.”

A hysterical giggle bubbles in your throat.  There are three more sticky notes between this and the last one.  There’s no way these sticky notes could predict your exact thoughts.  You skip to the last sticky note.  Ha!  Take that!  This is all just in your head after all.

“4. This is not all in your head.  Nice try.”

A straitjacket and a padded room suddenly sound like the safest place for you. Okay.  Focus on not panicking.  You’re fine.  Everything’s fine.  If you mumble this mantra to yourself enough times, maybe the universe will take pity on you.  What three things can you hear?  Three, you hear the whisper of wind against the windows.  Two, the sound of running water.  One, a machine jingles cutely, prompting you to search for the source.  No, no, no, you mustn’t wake any of the residents before you can get out.  

You rush to the kitchen and discover it’s the coffeemaker signaling the end of its task.  After a brief once over of all the complicated buttons, you unplug it because there’s no way you’re gonna find the off button.  What two things do you smell?  Two, One, the scent of the Biolage shampoo you have on rotation cleanly cuts through the dark velvet of coffee that permeates the large space.  

Taste.  You’re not a die hard coffee fan.  You make the occasional stop at Starbucks, but it’s more for the sugar rush than anything.  Still, you pour some coffee into an already waiting mug to fulfill the last step of your panic attack deescalation.  You take a careful sip of the bitter liquid, and the warmth that settles in your belly is soothing even though you’re pretty sure caffeine and anxiety shouldn’t mix.

Wait a tick.  You poured coffee into an already waiting mug–

The pile of messy blankets on the couch comes to life.  Your heart beats a loud thundering bass in your eardrums as a man rises from the couch.  If you weren’t delulu before, you are now, because Kim Seokjin is standing not even 30 paces from you, his dark hair sticking up in mussy awkward angles as he rubs his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen.  You jump back to clear a path to the coffee machine.  He shuffles past you, half lidded, and sleepily paws at the space where his coffee cup is supposed to be.  You slide it onto the counter near him, which his hand magnetizes to almost instantly.  You weren’t even sure he was aware of you, but he takes a sip and turns to lazily observe you.  

Raspy from sleep, a deep voice you’ve only heard through a screen or microphone asks you, “So, what kind of day is this?  Did you skip to Note 4?”

You’re so shocked that THE Kim Seokjin is speaking to you that all you can muster is a dumbfounded, “What?”  

Is he talking to you?  You surreptitiously scan the room because he couldn’t be talking to you, right?  He peers at you with concern over his steamy mug.  “Did you skip to Note 4?”  He points to the yellow sticky notes on the window wall.  Both of you automatically turn to look at the notes and then back to each other.

“Erm, yeah?”  

“Ah, it’s a blue day,” Jin says, his plump lips turning up into a doughy smile reminiscent of Yoongi’s.  He walks over to the fridge and picks a blue sticky note off.  Uncertainly, you take it when he hands it to you.  The fridge also has a smattering of green, pink, purple, and orange sticky notes, which he begins to gather.  

Jin is shorter than you thought he’d be.  Of course, he’s tall, two heads taller than you, but having only ever observed him larger than life through a screen or from a long distance on stage, he just seems so…normal.  Double-jointed fingers, most every Jin stan worships, neatly stack the multi-colored sticky notes onto his palm.  From this angle, you can see another hall and a door that seems likely to be the exit past Jin, jackets hung on hooks and an orderly shoe rack near it being the biggest clue.  You don’t know how you feel that the sticky note on that door has one simple word written on it in big bold letters.  

“STOP”  

Are these sticky notes trying to stop you from leaving?  Why?  It’s not like you’ve been one hundred percent on board with these sticky notes so far, but the one on the exit door has you more on guard now than ever.  This would be the best time to flee, but you hesitate, glancing at Jin who is now assessing you in a way that feels expectant.

Suddenly self-conscious, you lick your dry lips and run your fingers through your hair.  Your fingers snag on a knot as a thought occurs to you.  Jin seems much too calm and nonchalant faced with you, a total stranger and potential sasaeng.  You clear your throat and test the waters.  “Good morning.”

Jin flashes a grin at you.  “Good morning.”

Dazed, you bow, stuttering, “Um, I–I’m Y/N.”

He sips his coffee, an amused smile playing on his lips.  “Yeah, I know.”

“You…know?” He knows your name?  Kim motherfucking Seokjin knows your name.  “And you’re Kim Seokjin, Worldwide Handsome, also known as Jin of BTS.”

Your word vomit has you wanting to die on the spot.  Jin huffs a laugh.  “Are you gonna start reciting my birthday, astrological sign, and MBTI results next?”

December 4, 1992.  Sagittarius.  INTP.  You think it, but self preservation has you blessedly silent.  His eyes twinkle like he knows what you’re thinking anyway.  “...but we don’t know each other,” you continue.

Jin yawns and scratches at his collarbone where the buttons are undone on his pajamas.  “We don’t?” he inquires with a lazy grin.  Did you somehow forget that you know Jin? That's not possible. Having any sort of relationship with any of the boys would be a dream come true. So then how is this not a core memory?  

You recall that Spongebob episode where all the personifications of his abstract thoughts rifled through mazes of filing cabinets in his brain to locate his own name and you imagine something similar is going on in your own head, trying to determine your relationship with Jin.  It doesn't help that you can see his collarbone, his unbuttoned shirt, and his disarming grin–it’s distracting.  He’s very distracting and you’ve gotta get a grip on yourself.  Your sanity is hanging on by a thread and you’re trying not to be the weird demented fangirl that you truly are.

You discreetly suck your drool back in, at least you hope you do, and comment, “I didn’t know you spoke English so well.”

“Of course, I’m amazing at everything I do,” Jin says, stretching.  Dear gawd, was that a sliver of belly?  “But, alas, we’re speaking Korean right now.”

Say what now?  “No, I’m speaking English.”

“You’re speaking fluent Korean and I barely know the English ABCs,” Jin informs you.  His eyes suddenly crinkle mischievously.  “Hey, why can’t bears live without bees?”

The sudden joke comes out of left field, and for the life of you, you can’t think of a clever response.  “Um, because bees make honey?”

“Because without b’s, bears are just ears!”  Jin’s windshield wiper laugh fills the room and you simply gape at him.  The joke wasn’t all that good, but his laugh sparks mini-shocks through you like fuzzy static and you can’t help but smile.  Jin wipes fake tears from his eyes and tilts his head at you.  You don’t want to read too much into it, but his gaze on you almost feels fond in a familiar way, which it couldn’t be.  Ridiculous.  

Jin gestures to the sticky note forgotten in your hand.  “You should read that,” he says kindly.

You nod assent and smooth the blue paper. 

“You’re safe.  You’re okay.  Trust Jin, or whoever gave you this note.  Joon, Yoongi, Hobi, Tae, Jimin, and Kookie are your friends.  Everything’s going to be fine.  I gotchu, bitch.  - Y/N”

It is clearly your signature.  The revelation has you off kilter.  You woke up in BTS’ condo in what is apparently Seoul, Korea.  Jin knows you.  The boys are your friends.  You wrote these notes.  So you should trust the notes, right?  Trust Jin.  You look up to meet his bright eyes.

“So, we do know each other,” you state, tentatively.

He tries to reassure you with a smile.  “We do.  There’s a lot to talk about and catch you up on, but first, I think we should eat breakfast.  How about I cook while you go get cleaned up?  Your clothes are in the walk-in closet in my room if you wanna take a shower.”

He drinks his coffee as he waits for an answer.  Food and a shower sound amazing right now.  The conflict of your fight or flight instincts is steadily numbing and you just want to shut down.  But, speaking of clothes, “Hey, Jin?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did I wake up naked in your bed?”

Jin chokes and coughs, spraying coffee on himself.  His ears turn red and he averts his eyes.  The expression on his face can only be described as someone caught between a rock and a hard place, but he quickly schools it into something apathetic.  “Oh?  You were naked in my bed?" he wheezes, throat rough from coughing.  "I don’t know about your sleeping preferences, but what I do know is that you came over for drinks last night...and passed out here.  You were naked?  In my bed?  Hmm, weird.”

Oh yeah.  That was absolutely convincing.  “And why was I sleeping in your bed instead of the couch?”

Jin sets the coffee down and rips a few paper towels to pat the front of his pajamas.  We’re wearing a matching set, actually.  He adopts an affronted attitude and explains, “I’ll have you know that I am the perfect host, and as the perfect host, I would never let a guest sleep on the couch.  Especially on that monstrosity, which is more modern art than couch.”  

The sectional does look uncomfortable.  You’re not satisfied with his answer, but the blush of his ears has extended to his neck, the rosy pink deepening into an almost crimson flush.  Entertained, you decide to be pacified for now.  “Breakfast sounds good.  I’ll go shower now.”  

It’s almost funny how relieved the set of Jin’s wide shoulders look with your decision to leave the matter to rest–for now.  You leave him to his ministrations and head to his bedroom. You read the names on the sticky notes as you once again traverse the hall, now in the opposite direction, and marvel at what your day is now.  Closing the door behind you, the kitchen comes to life with muffled clangs of pots and pans.  

Leaning against the door, you read the note again.  You’re safe.  You’re okay.  Everything’s going to be fine.  Well, that remains to be seen.  As interactions go, you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in front of Jin.  It honestly could have gone a lot worse.  At least you didn’t scream or faint.  The glory that is Kim Seokjin is really something else in person.  Pictures and videos don’t do the real him justice.  You’re slowly coming to terms that all of this is real.  The texture of the carpet beneath your bare feet, the sound of the other members rousing, the small ache of hunger in your belly, you can’t deny that it’s all actually happening.  

Shaking yourself from your reverie, you become aware that you’ve been on autopilot.  You’ve made the bed, stacked the Maplestory plushies, threw blankets into the hamper in the walk-in closet, and are now standing in front of the bathroom mirror, all as if your body is used to this routine.  You turn on the shower, wait for it to warm up and then step into the relaxing stream.  Jo would love the giant rain showerhead.

Wait, Jo!  Does she know you’re here?  Is she waking up alone and confused in an empty apartment wondering where you are?  Your concern has you clutching the slick tiles.  You hyperfixate on the warmth of the water, mentally following the path down your head, from your hair, along the skin of your back over your rump to stream down your legs and over your achilles to lightly pool at your feet.  As your body relaxes and the high from your Jin interaction subsides, your thoughts sink into gray worry and cautiousness.  Jin said there was a lot to talk about.  Answers were coming soon, but still you don’t quite feel right in your skin.

Fact.  You are Y/N.  You are 25 years old and you’re from Sheboygan, Wisconsin.  You work at Kohler Water Spa and you live an ordinary life.  You speak English.  You don’t know Korean…right?  You rinse shampoo out of your hair and mentally focus to discern if you’re thinking in English or Korean, hoping to pin down the voice in your head visually.  Results are inconclusive.  You can actually feel your brain throbbing in protest.   

Fact.  You are in Korea.  Seoul.  Hannam the Hill.  You wrote the sticky notes.  You can’t help that your thoughts go wild with theories.  Maybe you sleepwalked–sleep flew??--here?  You were kidnapped?  By BTS?  Jin allegedly knows you.  At least, he didn’t seem surprised to see you this morning, and in fact, seemed downright comfortable enough to subject you to his world famous puns.  Ugh, you wish Jo was here.  She’d know what to do.  You’d call her if you could find your phone.    

You soap your body and you think, any self-respecting Army would be ecstatic over something like this happening to them.  Acknowledged as a friend of BTS, well enough to be showering in their shower, sleeping in their bed, and eating food cooked by Jin.  Given the opportunity, you assumed you'd be thrilled, happy, and grateful.  Faced with the reality, you feel alien, like you’re not where you’re supposed to be.  The Army in you says fuck where you’re supposed to be.  Take this opportunity and run with it.  But it would be much more enjoyable if you had your bearings.  Sure you could fake like you had your shit together, but shit has literally hit the fan.

Your hands stutter to a halt.  Something suddenly feels not quite right, as if the negative thoughts have now physically manifested on your body.  You have the same straight hair.  The same soft hands and neat nails.  The same lithe body, but there are scars on your arms, torso, and belly. What the fuck happened?  Were you in an accident?  Is that why you don't remember anything?  The scars look old though.  You can barely see them but the indentations are there, marring your otherwise normally smooth skin.  Something to ask Jin about later.

After getting out of the shower, brushing your teeth and generously partaking of Jin’s skincare products, you head over to the walk-in closet.  Women’s clothes and shoes line two of the four walls.  They might all belong to you because they seem to be the right size and style you favor.  After dressing yourself, you step back into the bedroom and almost brain yourself on the door jam because Jin is sitting on the bed next to a tray with two plates of pork belly, white rice, sauteed bok choy and kimchi.  

“Ready to eat?” he asks, offering a glass of water to you.

You settle across from him, accepting the glass.  “Thank you for the meal.”  He smiles and nods.  The both of you eat, lost in thought in the quiet.  You try to focus on the food in front of you, but his eyes are searing into you, and you squirm a bit, feeling very much like a wriggly amoeba under his microscope.  

Giving up your act of indifference, you peer up at him. His cheeks are puffed out like a squirrel as he chews.  It’s disgusting how endeared you are by how adorably ridiculous he looks.  He stuffs an impossibly huge clump of rice into his mouth.  Your expression of disbelief has his face scrunching into the biggest smile, and he starts to laugh, which is a big mistake.  He’s now choking on the rice, violently coughing, and you’re pounding his back shouting admonitions at him, as he debates spitting the rice out or forcing a swallow.  The door slams open and Yoongi bursts into the room.  All three of you freeze, you with your hand mid-air ready to pound Jin’s back again, Jin with his palm open under his mouth to catch the rice he has decided to abort, and Yoongi eyes wide watching the chaotic scene unfold.  You don’t know who starts first, but you and Jin are laughing so hard that you’re gasping for air and Yoongi harrumphs, judging the pair of you from the doorway.

“You guys are so weird.”  He pushes back his yellow bleached hair and rolls his feline eyes, but you spy the twitch of his lips as he holds back a smile.  “Good morning, Y/N.”  

So casual.  So unperturbed.  So normal.  “Good morning, Yoongi-ssi,” you squeak nervously.

Ssi.  So you ARE speaking Korean.

Yoongi does a double take, eyebrows furrowed.  “Yoongi-ssi??”  

Jin tells him, “It’s a blue note day.”  

Yoongi nods, expression still concerned, but clearing of confusion.  “Ah, a blue day.  Understood.  Let me know if you need anything, Y/N.  You have my number,” he offers with a smile and backs out. Before he shuts the door completely, he peeks in again. “Oh, also, if you guys decide to die or kill each other, can you do it quietly?  Some of us are working or still sleeping.  Later.”  With that, he leaves.  You and Jin glance at each other, and then sputter into laughter again.  Jin is falling over and you have to hold the tray steady from disaster. 

When you finally recover your lungs and Jin’s amused hiccups die down, he sets the tray on the floor.  “So, you have questions.  I’m here to answer them,” Jin says, earnest kindness projected in every word.

Surprisingly, but maybe not so surprisingly, the first question out of your mouth is, “Where’s my phone?”  

“Ah.  You want to call Jo, right?”

“How did you know?  Do you know Jo too?”  Jin shakes his head with a smile that says he knows you and knows you well, which both excites and worries you.  

"I don't know Jo.”  He pauses, then says, “But you shouldn’t call her.”  

“Why shouldn’t I call her?  She’s the very first person I should be calling,” you say matter-of-factly.

“You wanna call Jo.  And then your mom, and then your ‘kids’--cousins, to be precise, but, Y/N.  I don’t know how to tell you this except to just tell you bluntly.  They…don’t know who you are.”

Something isn’t computing.  Synapses not synapsing.  Brain not braining.  “What does that even mean?” you ask carefully.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  Why wouldn’t they know me?  Jo is my cousin.  My mom is my mom.  And my other cousins are like my babies.”

“Well, yes…but not here.  Not in the real world,” Jin says cryptically.

“I don’t understand.  What do you mean ‘the real world’?”

He hesitates, and then sallies on. “Here are the hard facts and truths of the real world.  Your name is Y/N.  You are 25 years old.  You work at Big Hit in the human resources department.  You’re an orphan.  You have no family. ”  

You scoff in disbelief and growing indignation.  “You can’t be serious.  I’m an orphan?”

“It’s the truth,” he says solemnly.  All traces of your previously shared hilarity have disappeared into the ether.  “But I’m here for you. We are here for you. Namoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook are your closest friends.  All of us are like family and you’re part of that family."

All this information is giving you whiplash.  "How am I supposed to believe all that?"

"Please, believe me," he pleads.  "You’ve tried calling Jo before, and it didn’t go over so well.  Actually, Jo handles it pretty well.  She’s really nice. We even flew her to Korea one time.  She’s a hoot, but you didn’t handle it very well.  You kept trying to make it something that it isn’t and just disappointed yourself because, like I said, Jo doesn’t know you.”

“And what is up with that?”  You throw up your hands in frustration.

“With what?”

“That!  You keep talking as if this happens all the time.  Do I have amnesia?  Short-term memory?  Am I crazy?”  You wonder if you’re going crazy.  Have you finally cracked?  

Jin gathers your hands in his and your reeling stumbles to a halt.  These sensations don't feel dream-like.  The boniness of his fingers gripping yours.  The warmth of his palms.  They feel like an anchor trying to keep you from floating away, but you’re pretty sure the string on your kite isn’t even attached to you anymore.  Jin’s thumbs rub circles on your skin.  “You are not crazy,” he assures you.  “You do have a memory issue, but we’ve got this handled.  You’re aware this happens.  That’s why you’ve written all these notes for yourself.”

His eyes haven’t left yours for one moment, and there’s a part of you that feels like he’s trying to convey more to you, but you just can’t decipher what it is.  You’re at a loss for words.  Did you dream up your whole life?  Is this really your life?

He gently drops your hands and scrubs his face.  “I’m not doing a good job explaining all of this.”

“You really aren’t,” you say with a small smile.  You feel your smile involuntarily tremble and you’re embarrassed to find that your eyes are beginning to water, but you do your best to swallow it in, biting your lip.  You refuse to cry in front of this man.  Jin says he knows you, but he’s essentially a stranger.  You don’t really know him.  You know idol Jin, but you don’t know Seokjin.

“Look.  I know this is a lot to take in,” Jin says gently.  “You take all the time you need.  I already told corporate that you’ll be taking off this next week, so you can relax and figure things out.”

Relax?  In BTS’ condo?  “So do I live here with you guys?”

“What?  No.  Don’t be ridiculous.  You live a few floors down.”  He thinks you’re being ridiculous?  In all the realms of possibilities, this, of all things, is a ridiculous notion?

“Then why are my clothes in the closet?” you ask.

“Convenience for sleepovers?”  

“Was that a question or a statement?”

Caught, he tries to reel things back on track, explaining, “You’re here about fifty percent of the time anyway.  Why wouldn’t you keep some things here?”

“Yeah, ‘some’ things.  Not half a closet.  And why your closet?”

“Is my closet not good enough for you?” he asks in mock-indignation.  You know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but you feel like you’re back at square one.  His explanations have only given you more questions and you feel adrift.  You’re an orphan.  The people you thought you knew are strangers.  You don’t know anyone in Korea.  Jin, Yoongi, and the rest of the boys are all strangers too.  You feel alone and–

“Jin.  I think I want to be alone right now.”  You look to the floor, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to spill, your throat thick.

You hear him get up.  He hesitates at the door.  “Y/N–” he starts to say, an emotion you can’t figure out coloring your name, but then he thinks better of it, stopping.  “Ahem.  I have a meeting with my brother I can’t miss, but I’ll be back soon.  If you want to go to your apartment, just let one of the guys know and they’ll escort you.  Take all the time you need in here.”  

And with that, he leaves you.  The door clicks shut.  You feel like you’re underwater, like you’re sitting at the bottom of the ocean, the pressure squeezing your lungs.  You feel fragile, like you’ll shatter at any moment.  Slowly, you get up to shut the drapes on the balcony sliding door, blocking out the morning sun now shining cheerfully and the city abuzz.  You carefully remove the plushies off the bed and hide yourself beneath the silk duvet.  Burying your head into the pillows first, you then allow yourself to weep, gasping on sobs.  

None of this makes any sense.  How can your most precious memories and relationships be fiction?  You’ve always tried your best to be a good daughter, a good granddaughter, a good cousin, a good friend.  How could your whole life be a lie?   Jin and Yoongi were friendly and seemed to genuinely want to help you, but you have the sneaking feeling that there’s something else going on.  Things like this don’t happen for no reason.

You don’t know how long you cry for, but eventually you run out of tears.  As you drift into the welcome oblivion of sleep, you wonder if you’ll wake up at home to the sound of your fridge humming, the ice maker clacking, the telephone poles buzzing outside your window, and the floorboards creaking as a loved one gets ready for work.  

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[windowquotesukportsmouth]

Wooden sliding sash windows services in Portsmouth

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Aluminium Window Design: A Complete Guide to Modern and Stylish Living

If you're planning to renovate your home or build a new one, the windows you choose play a crucial role in both aesthetics and functionality. One of the best choices available today is an aluminium window design. Strong, sleek, and highly customizable, aluminium windows have taken the architectural world by storm.

In this detailed guide, we will explore various types of aluminium window design, including aluminium sliding window design, modern aluminium window design, aluminium window grill design, and more. From styles to benefits, usage, and customization, we cover everything you need to know.

Why Choose Aluminium Window Design?

Aluminium windows offer a unique set of advantages that make them the preferred choice for both homeowners and architects:

Durability: Aluminium doesn’t rust or warp, making it ideal for all weather conditions.

Low Maintenance: It requires minimal upkeep.

Sleek Appearance: Thin frames allow for larger glass areas.

Eco-Friendly: 100% recyclable and energy-efficient.

Versatility: Suits all types of home styles from classic to contemporary.

These features make aluminium window design a smart investment for modern living.

Types of Aluminium Window Design

1. Aluminium Sliding Window Design

Aluminium sliding window design is among the most popular choices today, especially in urban apartments and compact homes. These windows slide horizontally, requiring no additional space to open.

Features:

Ideal for balconies, kitchens, and living rooms

Easy to operate and clean

Available in 2-track, 3-track, and 4-track versions

Compatible with mosquito mesh and security grills

If you're looking for an elegant yet functional option, the sliding aluminium window design is perfect.

2. Aluminium Casement Window Design

Casement windows open like doors with hinges on the side. They are a classic example of modern aluminium window design blended with traditional architecture.

Advantages:

Better air flow and ventilation

Excellent sealing for insulation

Can be paired with designer grills

Use these in bedrooms and living areas where ventilation is a priority.

3. Aluminium Fixed Window Design

These windows don’t open and are primarily used to provide an unobstructed view.

Best For:

Hallways

Staircases

Offices or high-rise apartments

Fixed windows are a major part of any modern aluminium window design layout due to their minimalistic style.

4. Aluminium French Window Design

French windows are double-sashed and open outward. Their broad, open style brings natural light and air into your home, making them a luxurious option.

Ideal For:

Balconies

Garden entrances

Villas

Enhance them with aluminium window grill design for a stunning visual impact.

5. Aluminium Top-Hung Window Design

These windows are hinged at the top and open outward from the bottom.

Perfect For:

Bathrooms

Utility rooms

This compact style complements other types of aluminium window design for a uniform look throughout the home.

Aluminium Window Grill Design

Grills not only add security but also contribute to the overall design aesthetics. From simple lines to ornate motifs, there are numerous styles in aluminium window grill design.

Popular Grill Styles:

Geometric patterns

Laser-cut floral motifs

Horizontal or vertical bars

Traditional jali patterns

Pairing a grill with your aluminium window design with grill enhances the safety and charm of your home.

Benefits of Modern Aluminium Window Design

With constant innovation in design and technology, the modern aluminium window design offers unmatched benefits:

Slim Profiles: Minimal framing for maximum light

Multiple Colour Options: From black and white to bronze and wood grain finishes

Thermal Break Technology: Excellent energy efficiency

Double or Triple Glazing: For better insulation

Whether you live in a bustling city or a quiet countryside, there's a modern aluminium window design perfect for your setting.

Room-Wise Aluminium Window Design Ideas

Living Room:

Use large sliding or French windows

Add artistic aluminium window grill design

Bedroom:

Casement or sliding windows with blackout blinds

Soundproof glass for peaceful sleep

Kitchen:

Compact sliding aluminium window design

Mesh screens for ventilation and hygiene

Bathroom:

Top-hung aluminium windows

Frosted glass for privacy

Customization Options

Your aluminium window design can be fully customized to match your taste and requirements:

Color finishes: Powder coating or anodizing

Glass types: Clear, tinted, frosted, textured

Frame styles: Slim, beveled, or flat

Opening types: Sliding, casement, tilt & turn

You can also choose integrated aluminium window design with grill or removable grills for added convenience.

FAQs About Aluminium Window Design

Q1. What is the best aluminium window design for small rooms? A: Sliding aluminium window design is ideal due to its space-saving features.

Q2. Can I install aluminium window design with grill for extra safety? A: Yes, many homeowners combine stylish grills with aluminium frames for added security.

Q3. Is aluminium better than wood or uPVC? A: Aluminium offers better durability, aesthetics, and requires less maintenance.

Q4. Are modern aluminium window designs energy efficient? A: Yes, especially those with double-glazed glass and thermal breaks.

Q5. How long do aluminium windows last? A: With proper care, aluminium windows can last over 40 years.

Q6. What colors are available for aluminium frames? A: Matte black, bronze, silver, wood textures, and more.

Q7. Can I use aluminium windows in coastal areas? A: Yes, they are corrosion-resistant and ideal for humid environments.

Q8. Are there eco-friendly options? A: Aluminium is 100% recyclable and energy-efficient.

Q9. Do aluminium windows come with built-in grills? A: Yes, you can choose designs that include integrated or external grills.

Q10. What is the cost of aluminium window design? A: It varies by design, size, and customization but is cost-effective in the long run.

Final Thoughts: Elevate Your Home with Aluminium Windows

The right aluminium window design can significantly uplift your home’s style, security, and energy efficiency. Whether it’s the minimalistic modern aluminium window design, the functional sliding aluminium window design, or a protective aluminium window design with grill, there’s a perfect match for every home.

Ready to transform your living space?

Contact Us for expert advice, personalized designs, and free quotes.

Discover the beauty of aluminium—where modern style meets lasting durability.

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Business

Sliding sash windows have proven themselves to be a beautiful addition to any home. They capture a period charm without offering any of out of date or obsolete home improvement solution. Exuding a classic, instantly recognisable design, the sliding sash window features a vertical sliding opening to offer a high quality alternative to the usual open in or open out window designs.

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Why Choose Professional Replacement Windows Services in Nantwich?

About

Windows are an essential element of any home, offering natural light, ventilation, and aesthetic appeal. If you’re looking for reliable window services in Nantwich, you've come to the right place. Whether you're considering replacing old windows or installing new ones, finding the right solution for "replacement windows Nantwich" can improve your home's energy efficiency, security, and curb appeal.

Why Choosing the Right Windows is Essential for Your Nantwich Home

The right windows can transform your home in multiple ways. Not only do they impact the look and feel of your property, but they also influence your energy bills, safety, and comfort. By opting for high-quality windows, you can enjoy a range of benefits:

Energy Efficiency: Well-insulated windows help regulate indoor temperatures, reducing the need for excessive heating in the winter and cooling in the summer. This not only makes your home more comfortable year-round but also helps lower your energy bills. Modern windows, such as double or triple-glazed options, are designed to minimize heat transfer, making them an energy-efficient investment for your home.

Enhanced Security: Modern window installations offer increased security, with stronger frames, durable glass, and advanced locking mechanisms. Choosing quality windows for your Nantwich property can provide peace of mind, knowing that your home is protected from potential break-ins.

Increased Property Value: If you’re considering selling your home in the future, upgrading your windows can significantly increase its market value. Potential buyers are more likely to be attracted to homes with modern, energy-efficient windows that require minimal maintenance.

Improved Aesthetics: Windows play a major role in your home’s appearance. Whether you want to maintain a traditional look or opt for something sleek and modern, choosing the right window style can enhance your home’s exterior and interior design. Nantwich window providers offer a wide range of window styles, materials, and finishes to complement your home's architecture.

Types of Windows Available in Nantwich

Nantwich windows come in a variety of styles and materials to suit different preferences and needs. Some of the most popular options include:

Casement Windows: Casement windows are a popular choice for their versatility and ease of use. They open outward with a crank handle and provide excellent ventilation. Casement windows can be designed to fit traditional or modern homes.

Sash Windows: Perfect for preserving the charm of period properties, sash windows have a timeless appeal. These windows feature movable panels (sashes) that slide vertically, offering both style and functionality.

Tilt and Turn Windows: These modern windows are highly functional, allowing homeowners to open them in two ways: tilting inward from the top for ventilation or swinging open fully from the side for cleaning and air circulation.

Bay Windows: Bay windows are a fantastic way to add extra light and space to a room. They protrude outward from the building’s exterior, creating a cozy nook inside, perfect for seating or storage.

Double-Glazed Windows: Double glazing is an energy-efficient option that provides superior insulation, helping to keep your home warm in winter and cool in summer. They are also effective in reducing noise from outside, making them an ideal choice for homes in busy areas.

Finding the Best Nantwich Windows Provider

When searching for window companies Nantwich, it’s important to choose a reputable company with experience and excellent customer reviews. Here are a few key factors to consider:

Experience and Expertise: Look for companies with years of experience in the window installation industry. They will be knowledgeable about the best materials, styles, and glazing options for your specific needs.

Product Range: A good window provider will offer a wide selection of windows, from traditional designs to modern innovations. Ensure they have options that fit your home's style and your budget.

Customer Reviews: Check online reviews and testimonials to see what past customers have said about their services. Positive feedback is a good indicator of reliable workmanship and customer satisfaction.

Professional Installation: Proper installation is key to ensuring the longevity and performance of your windows. Choose a company that offers professional installation services, backed by warranties and guarantees.

Conclusion

Whether you're looking to upgrade your home’s energy efficiency, improve security, or enhance its aesthetic appeal, window companies near me offer a variety of solutions to meet your needs. By selecting the right window style and provider, you can ensure that your home is both beautiful and functional for years to come. Make sure to explore reputable window companies in Nantwich to find the best fit for your home improvement project.

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Transform Your Space with Aluminium Doors and Windows

When it comes to combining durability, aesthetics, and energy efficiency, aluminium doors and windows are a top choice for modern homes and commercial spaces. At AJ Flying, we offer a premium selection of aluminium doors and windows designed to elevate your property’s appearance while delivering long-lasting performance.

Why Aluminium is the Smart Choice?

Aluminium is a popular material in construction and design due to its strength, sleek appearance, and resistance to environmental factors. AJ Flying’s aluminium products are built to meet Australian standards and tailored to suit various architectural styles.

Key Benefits of Aluminium Doors and Windows:

Durability: Resistant to corrosion, rust, and weather damage.

Low Maintenance: Requires minimal upkeep compared to wood or steel.

Modern Aesthetics: Clean lines and slim profiles for a contemporary look.

Customisation: Wide range of colors, finishes, and glazing options available.

Energy Efficiency: Optional thermal breaks and double glazing for better insulation.

Types of Aluminium Doors We Offer

AJ Flying provides a diverse range of aluminium door styles to match your design vision:

Sliding Doors: Space-saving and perfect for patios and balconies.

Bi-Fold Doors: Open up entire walls for seamless indoor-outdoor living.

Hinged Doors: Strong, stylish, and suitable for entryways or interiors.

Stacker Doors: A modern twist on traditional sliding doors, ideal for wide openings.

Stylish Aluminium Windows for Every Room

Our aluminium windows are designed to offer optimal light, airflow, and style:

Sliding Windows: Simple operation with a clean, modern look.

Awning Windows: Open outward from the top—great for ventilation in all weather.

Double Hung Windows: Classic style with dual opening sashes for flexible airflow.

Fixed Windows: Perfect for creating large glass views and letting in natural light.

Why Choose AJ Flying? With years of experience and a reputation for quality, AJ Flying is a trusted name in aluminium doors and windows. We offer:

Custom designs tailored to your needs

Superior craftsmanship and materials

Competitive pricing and expert installation

Excellent after-sales support

Conclusion

Aluminium doors and windows from AJ Flying are the perfect blend of style, performance, and value. Whether you’re renovating or building from scratch, we’re here to help you bring your vision to life.

Contact AJ Flying today for a free consultation and discover the benefits of aluminium for your next project!