#magnetic curtain tie backs

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨

　　　　　　　　　𝒑𝒂𝒖𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒆 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Paul finally gets the courage to say "I love you" for the first time.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, on Wattpad.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N's eyes slowly opened as she tried to adapt to the brightness of the space, rays of the morning sun completely entered through the window covered only by a thin curtain, keeping the room warm and comfortable.

The girl turned her head as she stretched lazily, a smile stretching across her cheeks as her eyes stopped on the face of her boyfriend, Paul, who was lying on his back, eyes closed and small snores coming from his half-open mouth.

Y/N shifted her body to the right, facing Paul while her head rested on his bicep, which served as her pillow every night she slept at his house.

Her eyes traveled over his face, which carried a relaxed expression. His long eyelashes rested on his tan cheeks, and his nose moved slightly from time to time, showing that his mind was immersed in some dream. Y/N felt like she could stay there all day, her left hand drawing small shapes on her boyfriend's bare chest.

After a few minutes of admiring him, the girl felt her hunger speak louder, sitting up slowly so as not to wake Paul, smiling in relief at not seeing him move even an inch, showing that he felt extremely calm and safe in her presence.

Y/N slowly got up from the bed, casting one last glance at Paul before starting her steps out of the room and towards the kitchen, her hands using the black hair tie on her wrist to tie her hair into a high ponytail.

The girl entered the kitchen, a yawn escaping her lips. She walked over to the small radio on the counter and played it, leaving it on the station she always listened to with Paul, turning down the volume a little so as not to disturb her boyfriend's sleep.

Y/N walked to the fridge and opened the door, vaguely observing the items inside, deciding to make a creamy scrambled egg with buttered bread and a fruit salad with yogurt, knowing that Paul felt hungrier than normal and a simple loaf of bread wouldn't sustain his stomach for more than 30 minutes.

She took what she was going to use, placing it on the sink and doing the same with the cabinet, organizing separately what she would use for each dish and starting to prepare breakfast.

With the bread already in the toaster and the water already heating for black coffee, the girl took a ceramic bowl and broke five eggs there, stirring them with a fork.

Sounds of footsteps echoed through the hallway between the bedroom and the kitchen, but it was imperceptible to Y/N, who was too focused on her action and the music coming from the radio.

Paul leaned his body against the threshold of the kitchen door, crossing his arms as his eyes admired his imprint preparing coffee for both of them while softly following the melody on the radio, a smile stretching across his cheeks at the scene so homely, free from weight and worry from all the chaos that has surrounded the supernatural beings of Forks over the last few months.

The opening whistle of the song "Home" by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros sounded through the room, catching Paul's attention. That song was considered one of the main songs of their relationship, as it played during the first bonfire that Y/N attended as Paul's companion. The memory of the two of them dancing together late at night, bare feet on the sand, surrounded by people they loved and lots of food was engraved in their minds.

The boy walked away from the door, going towards Y/N, who swayed her hips to the beat of the music as she passed the eggs to the frying pan on the stove.

Warm, strong arms surrounded the girl's waist, causing her to jump in place in fright, her right hand flying to Paul's arms while her left went to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

"You scared me!" Y/N said loudly, slapping weakly her boyfriend's arms, taking the spatula from the sink and stirring the eggs in the pan before it burns.

"Sorry, my love. Good morning." Paul responded in a whisper, resting his head in the crook of his girlfriend's neck, breathing in the natural scent of her skin and the body cream she had applied the night before after her shower. "Remember this song?"

"How can I forget? It's our song, it marked the beginning of our relationship." Y/N responded in a low voice, not wanting to burst the bubble that seemed to settle around them.

"Yes, I will never forget you dancing in that beautiful white dress that night, the bonfire behind you, and the smell of food in the air. Remembering that memory makes me love you even more." Paul commented with a goofy smile on his face, closing his eyes briefly, seeming to see the scene in front of him again.

Y/N's right arm, which was previously moving the spatula against the eggs, suddenly stopped, catching the boy's attention, who raised his face and moved so that he was next to his girlfriend, watching her with confused eyes.

"You love me?" She asked in a whisper, turning off the heat and dropping the spatula into the frying pan, turning around and facing him.

Paul replayed in his mind what he had said seconds ago, the understanding that he had said that he loved her flashed across his eyes, a nervous smile expanding on his face as his heart accelerated, fear settling in his chest.

"Yes, I love you." He revealed, knowing that was no coming back, looking at her closely, observing her reaction closely.

His heart warmed at the sight of his girl's eyes shining with tears as her mouth opened slightly in surprise, Y/N's right hand going to her own chest in disbelief.

"Oh Paul, I love you so much." She reciprocated, a tear escaping her eyes as she walked closer to her boyfriend, laying her head against his warm chest, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Paul sighed in relief, his eyes also filling with tears as he pulled Y/N closer, hugging her tightly.

"I've loved you since before I understood what that kind of love meant. The first time I saw you, I gave myself completely. When we kissed for the first time after you accepted me as yours, I became an addict and I knew that no one else could make me feel such an electric spark. Y/N, the moment I looked into your eyes for the first time, I knew I would follow you to the end of the world if necessary. And I don't say that because you're my imprint, my love for you goes far beyond that." Paul declared, pulling away slightly so he could look into his girlfriend's eyes, a huge smile decorating his features.

"Paul, it's not fair of you to make me cry at a time like this." Y/N muttered, her voice cracking with emotions. Paul brought his large hands to her face, wiping away the tears that wetted her flushed face. "I love you so much, I promise I'll be yours for the rest of our lives." She whispered, her heart overflowing with love, passion, and affection.

The boy bent down slightly, sealing his lips on hers in a slow kiss, full of the best feelings. A sigh escaped Y/N in pleasure, surrendering to the kiss and Paul's arms.

The sound of the wolf's stomach begging for food interrupted them. Y/N let out a laugh against Paul's lips, opening her eyes slowly and walking away, smiling big and turning to the stove again, going back to finishing breakfast for both of them.

Paul's arms remained around his girlfriend's body seeking contact and comfort, his heart warm, as their bodies moved slightly to the melody of the songs that sounded from the radio.

They felt like they could stay there forever, surrounded by the best feeling, love.

[namfinessed]

i have died - p.jm.

genre: angst, mild fluff (7.1k) royal au! (mentions of blood, fighting and all information might not be accurate to history.)

summary: jimin knows his queen has a heart, he's known it since he set eyes on her, even if rumours whispered that she was cold, calculated, merciless, jimin held on, his queen had a heart.

masterlist

-

to be a queen, was to be powerful, they said.

it was to be graceful yet stern, commanding but caring, soft but strong, beautiful but not so much, that it took away from your strength.

to be a queen, was to be miserable, you said.

you sat on your throne, with the burden of the world on your shoulders and not a touch from someone else to cure it or take it away. your arms stayed firmly on your lap as you tried to concentrate on your advisor’s words.

“war is upon us, your majesty, everyone’s saying it.” he gestured to the court filled with old men, greedy old men who were waiting for you to slip up.

“on what basis, did you make this conclusion?” you tried to stay calm, even if a shiver went down your spine and your hands started sweating.

you knew war was going to descend on your kingdom any day now, your parents warned out about it when you were still a kid, you had been preparing for this your whole life, but it didn’t stop the nightmares, chills, or fear. war would devastate your kingdom, it would run your people and resources dry and as the queen, you were expected to stop this devastation.

“do you not see what is happening in your kingdom, your majesty?” one of the old men sneered at you as their hands tweaked their mustaches and your patience almost gave out.

beside you, your general, park jimin, tightened his hand on his sword, ready to slay the man on your command. you lift a hand in his direction, showing a sliver of your patience, and he brings his hand back down.

“i do know about the riots and the grains,” you started, leaning forward, “i also know about the affairs.” you stared pointedly at the old man, whose eyebrow started sweating as you stood up.

“be careful with how you speak to me, or i will not hesitate to tie you up and throw you in the middle of a bloody riot.” you stormed out of the room with park jimin hot on your tail, concealing his smile and an audible hush resounded around you as you walked out to the barren land.

you weren’t known as the heartless queen for no reason, you were merciless, with whomever you deemed deserved to be treated that way and you knew it wasn’t fair, but as a queen, you could care less about being fair.

“should i ready the swords, your majesty?” jimin spoke and you nodded, turning and disappearing into a room to change. you hastily undid the layers of clothing you wore, feeling more and more air enter your chest as you stood naked in front of the long mirror covering the wall.

scars from many wars ago littered your chest, thighs, and arms, you wanted to pile on all the layers of your clothing back on your beaten body.

you pushed the layers away instead, a queen shouldn’t worry about battle scars, she should celebrate them. you got your armor and boots on, feeling better when everything was covered, and stepped out.

but a sight made you stop in your tracks.

across the practice field, were two lovers, oblivious to the world, hiding away from the world under a sheer curtain, the women were holding back their smiles as they stroked each other’s cheeks, leaning into each other but leaning away, as if a magnetic pushed them close and far. one of them reached out and kissed the other’s cheek, your hand instinctively reached to your cheek, unconsciously patting the area.

never a kiss.

never has a kiss ever touched your skin.

never has a touch from someone you loved, left a ghost on your skin, like your scars did.

across the practice field, jimin’s worried eyes saw your hands stroking your cheeks, his gaze followed your line of sight to see the poorly concealed lovers, his heart twisted as he watched you push your hands away and a grimace fell on your face. jimin had never seen a smile on his queen’s face but with the role you had, he knew you didn’t have much to smile about.

“your majesty, they are ready!” he yelled, capturing your attention, away from the lovers who brought tears to your eyes. your eyes snapped to his and the vulnerability disappeared, a hardness settled in them again and jimin wished that he let you stay lost in your vulnerability for a little more.

you grabbed your sword and protective gear, struggling to put on the headpiece as you always did, jimin stepped up and snapped it into place, it was the only thing you let him do for you.

and jimin looked forward to it every day.

you fell into a rhythm, jimin was a formidable opponent, never letting you be distracted for too long, which was relieving. the sounds of swords clanging, boots kicking the sand up, and heavy breathing drowned out everything else for you.

your eyes stayed laser-focused on jimin’s movements, they were natural, clean, and sharp, and so were his father’s.

you had known jimin your whole life when he was still just a kid and learning from his father, who was your father’s general, when he followed his mom around, who followed your mum around.

his parents weren’t alive now, nor were yours.

someday, you were ten years old, your parents had left for another town and never returned, and you had to be a queen while still not understanding what death was and why it had taken your parents, jimin’s parents protected you until an unknown disease took the two of them as well.

jimin’s sword hit yours, bringing you back to the present, where you had no one to love nor protect but jimin did, jimin always knew he would protect you.

you swung back, twisting your leg to bend and hit the armor covering his stomach, he recoiled at the contact and you smirked underneath your headgear. this continued, you played the dance of defense and offense, and soon, you ripped the headpiece to force some air into your body.

“i’ll be going now.” you walked out, without looking back and jimin nodded, dropping his sword, wordlessly watching you leave.

somewhere, between being a queen while still being a child and losing everyone you loved, you had forgotten to care for another person, and between protecting you since he was a teenager and losing everyone he loved, jimin had only grown more determined to care with all the heart in him.

that was the difference between you and jimin, you lost your heart and he gained a second one. and naturally, you two never spoke anymore but jimin had always wanted to tell you about his second heart, that it beat for you, even if it meant that his head would be at the end of your sword.

-

the talk of war kept spreading throughout the kingdom and your palace became louder, so did your heartbeat in your ears, so did your sword hitting jimin’s, and so did your internal cries for help.

you marked the map as you circled it, checking entries, exits, and secret pathways that could leave you vulnerable to the enemies.

“seal the exits, don’t allow goods transport till the next week, we will put up announcements when it can be resumed, station two guards at every secret route and give them our best guns, station one guard at each entry and exit, make sure meals reach them from time-to-time and distribute palace supplies to the people, without good transport, they won’t be making money” commands flowed easily out of you, you took every advisor’s bullshit advice and decided to ignore it at all, you came up with the most efficient plan you could.

“should we seal them tonight, your majesty?” jimin stepped forward and you nodded, “tonight would be best, we have to protect ourselves before we regret it. and later, i need to discuss battle strategies with you, keep that in mind.” jimin bowed to you and stepped back as the advisors argued with you.

he watched with a smirk as you calmly explained how miserable their plans were, he watched as you put all of them in their places and left the room, leaving the air of your power lingering in the room.

“she’s just as arrogant as her father” the same old man who had questioned your knowledge of the kingdom in the court, turns his nose up with a nasty sneer on his face. jimin feels his skin start to burn in anger when he hears the noises of agreement from the others.

“she’s even worse, at least her father was a capable ruler, she’s just arrogant and nothing else,” another one adds with a smirk, and everyone laughs at the comment, jimin wonders how you hold onto your patience with these men.

“she’s not even beautiful enough to be arrogant, did you see the scars covering her arms? no wonder she isn’t married” they continued to add snide comments, sipping their drinks and doing everything but be the advisors they are.

a slam on the wooden table startles them all, liquid jumping out of their cups and onto the floors, they all turn to see jimin’s eyes burning holes into them as his hands twitch on the table.

“one more word about our queen and i will personally wield the sword that chops your necks off.” jimin says calmly, though his fury is poorly contained. the advisors quirked an eyebrow at him, “who do you think you are? you are a general, not the queen’s lapdog, behave.”

another one piped up to reprimand him, “you are no one to lay a hand on any of us, learn your place, or we will make you.”

a dark chuckle bubbled out of jimin as he quickly realized if given the chance, he would take the lives of everyone in this room in a heartbeat, “my place is to serve her, so if i ever lay a hand on you, it wouldn’t be for me, it would be for my queen.”

the advisors grew wide-eyed at the storm-like fury that brewed in jimin’s eyes as he stared at them, jimin was known to be kind, friendly, and sweet around the court, but seeing him this way, had them all clearing their throats and looking away as a sheen of fear covered their faces, their eyes flickered from jimin to the sword that rested on his hips.

it would only take him a minute to kill them all and that knowledge had all of them gulping for air.

outside the room, you held your hand to your chest as a long breath released out of you, you never left since you heard the first comment from your advisors and even if it wasn’t supposed to hurt you, it did.

and you knew jimin didn’t have to say anything, you knew he could’ve just left the room, this was the first time anyone had ever stood beside you and not against you.

jimin opened the doors to see you beside them, eyes gazing up at him with concealed fondness, your face stayed cold and distant but jimin noticed the tiniest curve of your lips.

he remembers how you used to smile as a kid, wide and with teeth, dimples curved in as you ran around the palace, having your maids chase you around, he remembers the first time you had talked to him.

“get the swords ready, general.” you rush out of the area, leaving jimin a little startled but without another word, he follows you.

-

the sounds of your swords clanging brought you peace, as your chest slowly started to loosen up, though you had to admit that your focus wasn’t great, your eyes kept flickering to catch glimpses of jimin, hidden under his protective gear and your mouth kept opening to say something.

“you didn’t have to stand up to them, park jimin” you muttered, just loud enough for jimin to hear and his movements paused.

so, you had heard.

he was wishing that you hadn’t.

“i know, your majesty.” his arms lifted his sword again, but dropped it as soon as your sword hit the ground.

“then, why would you do it?” you hated the tremor in your voice, it was so unlike you, so unlike a queen.

“i don’t know, but i can’t think of anything else i would’ve done at the moment,” he removed his headpiece to see you, to see what you felt about his words.

you nodded with uncertainty, you expected him to say that as your general, it was his duty to defend you, you hadn’t expected anything more than that.

“i appreciate it,” you said breathily and jimin nodded back, his cheeks attaining a flush from both the cold wind gushing around you and also from your words.

i would do it again, by the way, even if my life is on the line.

he felt the urge to tell you as you turned away but then his eyes caught the royal emblem etched on your armor and he swallowed his words.

“i wasn’t always like this, general, i think you know that.” tears, that you couldn’t stop, lined your eyes as you thought back to the child that you were and the world that you had to grow up in, and jimin felt his chest fill with sorrow because he knew so well, knew more than you thought he did. “i know, your majesty, i know.”

you straightened your shoulders, any trace of vulnerability escaping your body as your advisors passed the field, all of their eyes analyzing and judging you.

“we still have to discuss those strategies, come.”

-

the rest of the night, you went over your defenses again and again, eyes catching fleetingly, accidentally, and then returning to the table with flushed cheeks, jimin was delighted to be so close, yet so far, from you.

and each time, your eyes met, you felt your heart beating again, you felt yourself wanting to say things that had nothing to do with the maps spread out in front of you.

“we knew each other before all this, didn’t we, park jimin?” before you became a queen, before you owned a kingdom, jimin was present in your distant memory, “you gave me flowers.” he smiled at you, images of your younger self flashing brightly in his mind.

“no! that can’t be true, general” a smile of disbelief curved on your face, you never looked at flowers, you couldn’t imagine any part of you that would gift someone flowers.

“oh, but you did, your majesty” jimin cheekily replied, making you shake your head and look away from him, trying to remember a time when you weren’t a queen.

but jimin remembers too clearly, how you had met, how your hands touched him for the first time, when it was all innocence and warmth.

it had been a hot, summer day.

jimin’s mother was busier than usual. it was the princess’s birthday and the entire palace was geared up to celebrate it grandly.

but jimin wasn’t happy at all. his eyes were hurting from the tears he had cried, his cheeks were firing up with heat as his body burned.

he was sicker than he had ever been and his mother couldn’t take care of him, her own eyes were filled with tears that she couldn’t take care of her child but she had duties to fulfill.

jimin sat in the garden, sniffling and pulling grass, refusing to listen to his mother’s request to stay inside as his cheeks puffed up with defiance.

then, he heard soft giggles falling from the corridors into the lonely garden.

he turned to see the princess, her hand in the queen’s, her other hand gripping tightly onto freshly picked jasmines, as she walked merrily, it was her birthday after all. and even as a kid, jimin couldn’t look away from the princess.

she was a joy to see, a joy to hear.

when the princess turned to look at him, to look at sad, pouty jimin, sitting by himself, picking the grass with tear-stained cheeks, jimin wouldn’t have guessed that she would run over to him. he wouldn’t have guessed that she would take the jasmines in her hand and place them above his ears.

“flowers are happy, you should be happy.” you had told him, with a dimpled smile, staring at him for a few seconds before running back to your mother, but he watched as you looked back at him till you left the corridor.

jimin felt the traces of love bloom in his heart for the first time.

now, he sees you, so tough and powerful and as his queen, but he remembers too well how you used to be and jimin fell for you then, unfortunately for him, he hadn’t gotten back up.

at some point in the night, the sleeves on your dress ride up and your eyes widen as you push them back down, you hurriedly look up to see if jimin has seen anything, you wait to see if his face twisted in disgust, but jimin only smiles, “you are so strong, your majesty. i wish i was more like you.”

he doesn’t speak about your tears.

or your scars.

or the fear on your face.

you know that he notices it all, but he doesn’t say a word.

you didn’t know that even if you weren’t the queen of the kingdom, you would still be jimin’s queen, hot or cold, kind or ruthless, heart or heartless, nothing could change that.

and jimin might have felt it when he was still a kid, but this was the first time, that something bloomed in your heart, you weren’t sure it was love, you were just sure that it was because of him.

-

weeks later, your kingdom was sealed, business halted and time as it was, didn’t move as you and your people prepared for the war.

tensions were high, and the kingdom got quieter as everyone waited for any news about their fate, you spent every minute with jimin, formulating and discussing plans that could bring you even a sliver of hope, and every minute, your heart unwillingly grew sprouts and flowers.

“hand over the kingdom to us and there will be no blood staining your land or else, your entire kingdom will drown.” your minister read the last sentence of the letter that was sent over to you that morning and you tried to resist the chill crawling on your back.

but you knew who it was from, a much more prosperous kingdom, a much more powerful kingdom with a king, not a queen, not like your weak kingdom.

you were powerful and you have won many wars but your opponent has colonized several countries at a time so realistically, your chances of surviving his quest were slim to none.

jimin eyed your tightening fists with a glint of worry and concern as your minister hung his head, solemn from the words he just read, “what do we say, your majesty?”

you knew the gravity of your decision here, you could either abandon your land and people, hand them over to a stranger, and not look back, because you knew even if you fought back, you would be weaker, you would lose.

but you also couldn’t turn your back on your people, your father and mother wouldn’t have done that, they wouldn’t have handed your people over, and they would have fought with everything they had.

sometimes, you just wish they would be beside you, gently guiding and firmly telling you what to do. sometimes, you wanted to crawl on your mother’s lap and cry until you couldn’t, sometimes, you just wanted your father’s hand on your head, telling you to be brave.

but your wishes remained wishes, hard decisions had to be solely made by you, whether you liked it or not.

“tell them, they will be the ones drowning, not us.” you feigned the confidence you knew your court needed, and seeing everyone’s face light up as their loud cheers echoed in your court, made it easy for you to say it, even if you knew it wasn’t true.

you would drown.

and never float back up.

all because you couldn’t be the queen your people needed.

you told yourself, that it was justified to give false hope to people whose hope was weathering, it was justified to lie to your court while knowing it would be gone in flames later, it was justified to fake your power for the flicker of relief that passed over their faces.

but jimin’s eyes stayed on your knuckles that turned white, your eyes that seemed dazed and he knew you were lying, his hand rested on his sword as he realized that the cheering people, were all waiting for their deaths.

-

“your majesty, a moment of your time.” jimin stayed outside the door until he heard your voice, allowing him in. you were sitting at the edge of your cot, chest heavy and breathing caught in your body.

“forgive me, your majesty, but you and i both know that you were lying.” he spoke, with confusion lacing his voice, you were always honest, you never lied for the sake of making someone feel better. “about what, general?” he didn’t recognize the strange, lifeless tone your voice had taken.

“that we are going to survive the quest.” jimin knew as much as you did, that your kingdom would be run to the ground, even if he thought you were the strongest of them all, he knew your kingdom would fall.

“we are going to survive it,” you lied through your teeth.

“we’re all going to die” jimin didn’t know why he was arguing with you, but he couldn’t help it, this was the first time his queen had lied and he needed to know why.

“oh general, i have died a long time ago” you laughed bitterly, your stomach twisting at your words, you felt sick, trapped in yourself, trapped in this palace that gave you all of the power but none of the relief that came with love. his gaze softened as, for the first time, tears flowed down your face like a river, as sobs escaped your chest without restraint, as you sunk to the floor with your hands tightly wrung the bedding.

you had died the day your parents didn’t come back, you had died when they placed a heavy crown on your tiny head as a kid, you had died when the sprinkle of someone else’s blood fell on your face, you had died when the people you fought for called you heartless.

you had died more times than you could count, one more time, even if it was for real this time, didn’t shake you at all.

it was dying without a touch of love decorating your skin, that truly scared you. you wished for a touch that wouldn’t unravel you but would hold you together, the way even a riptide, as dangerous as it is, longs for a shore to embrace, you want just a touch.

jimin should leave, his duty wasn’t this, his duty wasn’t to console a broken queen but jimin never stayed by your side as a duty, he stayed because it was where he belonged.

jimin sunk to his knees, his hands trembling to touch you, to let you lay on him and let years of your tears run down his chest, but he doesn’t want to be at the end of your sword, he wants to be at the end of your bed, watching you while you sleep and protecting you from the nightmares that plague you.

and then you surprise him.

jimin’s breath halts as he watches you reach for him, one frail hand in the air that beckons him closer and he follows wordlessly, sitting beside you and watching as your head finds his lap. you melt into his lap, fingers falling away from your body to hug his legs, a soft hum leaves your lips and jimin’s urge to protect you increases exponentially.

it's been a while since he has seen his queen be herself, and he knows as you grasp onto him for affection, that this was you finally giving up on maintaining an image, at least in front of him.

he slowly places a hand on your back, unsure if he was allowed to touch you the way you touched him, but you only bury your tear-stained cheeks into his legs and jimin relaxes, letting his hands travel on your back, his hands burned with love as he rubbed circles on your skin that coaxed more cries out of you, but this time, they weren’t out of pain, they were out of the relief of finally being touched with love.

“jimin,” you called out, so softly even if your voice dried out from the tears, so intimately that jimin wanted to curl up to you and forget everything else, “yes?”

no general.

no park jimin.

just jimin.

“i didn’t lie because i wanted to, the kingdom will die long before the war gets here, if i don’t lie, they need to hold onto something as we go into the war, they need to believe that they can survive to even fight.” and jimin sees it, the heart that your people denied that you had, you had thought of them before anything else and he smiles to the ceiling.

“after everything goes, you will be remembered as the greatest ruler our kingdom has ever seen,” he speaks sincerely, as his hands caress the lengths of your hair, which lulls you, your heart warms but you know it wasn’t true, “no one would remember me.”

“i would, in death and life, i will.”

you hadn’t expected to be satisfied with his answer but somehow, that was more than enough of you.

you always wished for a touch to make you feel loved, to make you feel anything but jimin’s words alone held you together and for the first time, you bore a heart that was heavier than you were, a heart that dragged you down, pulled you down and forced you to accept its size.

and you loved the enormity of affection you felt, especially that it was for the man who held you so gently even if he had seen you at your strongest.

“your majesty, i have a confession.”

“i think i know what you are going to say,” you might not have cared for other people, but you did notice things, you noticed the lingering looks jimin would give you, the smile that would grow on his face whenever you put your advisors in their place, the way his tone changed to something softer only when he talked to you, you had noticed it all.

you felt the same, maybe not as long as he had, but melted against him, you knew you wouldn’t feel this way for anyone else, except the person who stood by and protected you for so long.

“but if you allow me, i still want to say it.” you peered up from his lap with an amused smile, your general was more romantic than you had thought him to be, and jimin hadn’t thought your smile could be any more beautiful than it was in his dreams, but it was.

“you are allowed,” you face him, cheeks flushing and hands trapping his, “i love you, i’ve loved you since i knew what love was.”

you were only just learning love, as your skin touched his, as you sunk further into him, as you felt cocooned by his presence, as you felt his unwavering love for you through his touch but even if it was just now, you knew you felt the same.

but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, as a queen, were you allowed to profess love for someone else? with a war approaching, did you deserve to love as your kingdom ran to devastation?

you couldn’t say it, you couldn’t allow yourself the luxury.

you just nudged further into jimin’s body, squeezing his hand as a silent way of professing, ‘i feel the same, in my heart that’s beating after a long time, i feel what you do and i will tell you, i will tell you soon.’

jimin sighs in relief, his skin growing warm as your hands desperately try to tell him what your mouth can’t and he allows his body to drape over you, hands caressing your dress and brushing your hair away from your cheeks.

“i understand, my queen, i will wait.”

-

that night, everything changed for you, you had felt so defeated before the war even started but here you were, days later, hitting swords with jimin once again, a new kind of determination drummed in your attacks, you had to win the war, you had to be with jimin.

“your majesty, i’m afraid you are getting distracted,” jimin teases you as his sword nears your throat, with an amused scoff, you pull back to drag your sword on the ground and drive it up to the back of his head, “apparently, not as much as you, general.”

you both spent every quiet night together, in each other’s arms, in each other’s words and he professed his love to you every single day, even if you didn’t say it back, and he reminded you that your heart hadn’t died, it had just hidden away, but he certainly had wedged himself into it and it seemed to you that he would never leave.

jimin raises his sword in surrender, a chuckle leaving his lips once he sees you grin widely at his defeat.

“you are enjoying this too much,” he tuts at you, “i’m still your queen, jimin” you playfully scold him and he rolls his eyes at you, “and i’m still your general, your majesty.” he tips his invisible hat with a shit-eating grin and leaves you, flustered in the middle of the ground as he walks away to greet some new members of the army.

what was this feeling that consumed you, as your eyes refused to look away from his retracting figure?

a fluttering sense of calm danced around you, your usually restless heart had taken a steady, loud rhythm and you loved the world right now.

you felt as if everything was alright, as if the skies were always blue, as if the flowers always bloomed, as if you could fight a war and win it, just to keep this moment alive.

“your majesty!” a shrill voice broke your dreamy thoughts, and your head snapped to see your minister rushing down the hallway to reach you. you hold your arms over his shoulders to steady him as he breathes heavily.

“careful, minister.” he shook his head at your words, eyes pinching shut as he panted.

“they’ve gotten in, your majesty.”

and just like that, the feeling of victory faded from you.

“what are you talking about?” you couldn’t recognize how tight your voice sounded, how your hands twitched involuntarily to your sword, and how the air in your chest knocked out of you.

not now.

not so soon.

“we sealed every exit, minister, that is not possible” you desperately tried to dissuade what he was trying to tell you, he solemnly shook his head, “one of our own turned on us, they gave them entry into our kingdom, and several civilians were beheaded just a few minutes.”

your blood boiled.

for a minute, your eyes saw complete red as your hands shook beside your body, “how many, minister?” your voice didn’t contain your fury, nor your heartbreak.

“hundred and twelve, as of now, your majesty.”

in that minute, you knew you could slay an entire kingdom if you wanted to, you knew that if you were let loose, not a single soldier would be able to keep up with you. your people were supposed to be the last ones to get hurt, you were supposed to be protecting them and you failed.

“i’m assuming, the traitor has been caught?”

“yes, your majesty.” your minister’s eyes widened in fear as you pulled your sword out, “show him to me.”

-

that night, you scrubbed someone else’s blood off your face, and frustrated tears lined your eyes but the red never seemed to disappear, as you kept washing, more and more took its place, and soon, you gave up on getting it off, you had to accept that a part of you will always be stained with their blood.

the blood served as a reminder of the people you couldn’t save.

you had spent the evening, preparing for the war that would start tomorrow, it was finally declared by your opponent in another mocking letter, and providing aid to the families who lost their loved ones, each of their cries rang loudly in your ears even if hours passed.

water droplets dripped down your face as you sat once again, defeated before the war began, at the edge of your bed, but this time, a knock at your door filled you with relief.

jimin came in, exhausted as well, but his eyes zeroed on the red covering your arms and face, without a word, he took a washcloth, dipped it in water, and sat beside you.

his fingers nudged your hair away from your face and slowly, patiently, patted the blood away, shushing you as you broke down in tears in the middle.

that night ended in jimin’s arms, with a clean face and a lighter heart.

both of you didn’t know what would happen the next day, you just knew that you had to survive for each other.

-

“line up!” jimin’s yell filled the courtyard and all the soldiers jogged across it to surround him, “you all are aware, going in today, of the severity of the situation and what it could lead to, but i trust that my soldiers will still give their best, we all have homes to return to, keep that in mind. let it serve as a motivation for you to win this, help your fellow soldiers, and keep your focus.”

all of them were nervous, all of them had left home saying their final goodbyes to their families in case they never returned, but all of them also believed in their general and his words, rapid nods came as a response from them and they started preparing themselves mentally.

jimin gestured for them to move along and they all started embracing each other, comforting words poured into the space and they soon moved away to disperse.

in your changing room, your hands slid down the scars that covered you, after today, you were sure there were going to be even more, but somehow, you didn’t mind it as much. your maids placed the armor on you, tightening it around your body and you bit back a groan.

you didn’t know how many more of these wars you could fight.

suddenly, they all shuffled away, leaving the room, causing you to turn around, confused at their actions, only to see jimin entering the room.

“i don’t know why they ran away,” he said with comically raised eyebrows and you bit back a grin, “i’m sure they must have seen you leave my quarters in the morning.” his head fell back with a laugh as he stepped closer to you.

“that can’t be, i’m so discreet, like a ninja, you know?” you rolled your eyes at him, “you broke three vases just two days ago, jimin.” he kissed your temple as another laugh bubbled out of him, “maybe i’ll learn along the way.”

“maybe you will.”

you sighed as both of your smiles slipped, there was no telling if there was a way anymore but believing that there was, it was all you could do.

“how are the soldiers?” your eyes bore into his similar, armor-clad body that came up behind you in the mirror.

“just right, your majesty, don’t worry.” his arms came up to wrap around your body and your hands rested on his arms, a shuddering breath left your mouth as the gravity of today settled in even more.

maybe there won’t be a way, maybe you will never get to hold jimin like this again.

“before we go jimin, i want to tell you, like all of them, you have me, a home and i need you to come back for me,” that was the closest you could get to professing your love, your words were pleading, begging, even if your face was passive. jimin shakes his head, his hair rubbed onto your neck as he exhaled, “we both need to come back, i’m not letting this end here.”

after minutes passed of just being enveloped in each other’s warmth, you wished you could just ignore the war and stay in this room forever, with jimin, you wished you could ignore the possibility of losing him but the loud roars of your soldiers marching to the battlefield reminded you of who you were doing all of this for.

you were the queen, jimin was the general, and both of you had duties that couldn’t keep you locked in this room.

so, with a pained heart and arms that longed for each other even if only seconds passed, you both parted to step away from each other.

jimin reached for your headgear, taking his time to brush your hair and slip it on your head, the one thing you always let him do for you and you held back your tears as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. you reached for his hands and kissed the back of them, your tears soon fell on them and jimin’s resolve started breaking.

but he sniffed, pushing himself away and wiping your tears, “are you ready, my strongest queen?” he held out his hand with a wide, albeit painful smile on his face.

you put your hand in his, trying to stay strong, “whenever you are, general.”

and as you two stepped out, the warmth of his skin spread on you, his head dipping down to give you one final smile that was filled with his ever-growing love.

you felt scared that you might never see it again.

“i love you, your majesty.”

i love you unbelievably more.

“there will be a royal wedding to get ready for after this, be prepared, general.”

-

jimin winced as sand clouded his vision, he swung his sword aimlessly, hoping to catch his opponent, his ears were ringing from all the screams of agony around him, and when the blood splattered on his face, another scream rang much louder in his ear, causing him to look away.

another soldier who wouldn’t go home.

he whipped his head around, trying to catch sight of you in the midst of all the chaos, and after ducking and running under everyone around him, while slaying whoever he could in the way, he finds you.

a soldier fell at your feet and you took a huge breath, while looking around, only to catch jimin’s impressed face, you both smiled at each other, with red dripping down on your faces.

there was a chance.

you could win this and go back home to each other.

but soon, jimin got pushed into the chaos, and another, darker cloud of sand dusted across his face, forcing him to stand straight and attack again. he couldn’t see you again but he knew you were giving it your all, so he busied himself.

only a few more.

and he would be back with you.

-

they told him that you killed the most.

that you had fought bravely, and led your kingdom to victory.

that you were the queen that they would love and celebrate, even if centuries pass.

but how could jimin love and celebrate you, when he couldn’t hold you in his arms?

when your body was carried into the palace, it had taken everything in jimin to not set the entire palace on fire. to him, a palace without you, alive and breathing life into the building, was not a palace at all.

people held him when he cried, when he wanted to drive his sword into himself, when he would try to shake your body back to life, when he wouldn’t move away from your body, people put their arms around him and tried to lift him up.

but none of them could console him, all the promises you both had dreamed about vanished in front of his eyes and he blamed every single one of them, if they weren’t so harsh on you, if they didn’t call you heartless, you wouldn’t fight till death to prove that you did indeed have a heart, that you indeed had the biggest one.

jimin didn’t have too long to mourn, soon, the heavy crown was positioned on his head, they told him that it was your last request for him to look after the kingdom you had left behind, and once it was on him, he realized the weight you carried around your whole life, since you were only a kid.

they pulled all kinds of royal clothes on him, the materials itched, they burnt his skin, and the gold threads dug into his neck, as if the clothes were his own prison.

as he was made king, the kingdom rejoiced, they were finally getting a king, a true ruler, in their words, and jimin laughed in all their faces, their history would only have one true ruler, and it was you. no one could do what you did.

the throne felt wrong to jimin, as if he didn’t belong, but he knew this was what you wanted for the kingdom you loved so dearly, and jimin would always serve your needs.

he wished, as you had, for you to come and hold him when he had hard decisions to make, he wished to melt into your lap one last time to feel the warmth that ran away from him, he wished that you were right beside him, gently guiding and caring for him.

but he was left with only the ghost of your touch, that would forever haunt him.

jimin still got up every day, he put on the heavy crown and the irritating clothes and listened to the same blubbering idiots, the way you had, and he tried his best to be the ruler you were.

but at night, he crumbled away, dreaming of your touch and your love as he hugged your headgear closer.

jimin’s dreams remained dreams.

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

1. The Beginning

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader / The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Series Masterlist

Strangers, friends, lovers. Isn’t that the natural flow of things? The instinctive humane magnet that pulls two souls together; wasn’t that just the way of life? I often wonder if I had never laid eyes on him would the word still be intact? If I had never said yes to the role, if I had just moved on to another project, maybe my world would still be turning. I could still have a real body, real blood flowing through my veins. I almost remember what it felt like to bleed. Is it strange that I missed it? The pain? In this sorry excuse of a world, I guess anything can be normalized. Sadly I can’t recall what happiness used to feel like. I assume amazing and warm.

I stare into the cracked mirror, dusting the powder over my face, touching up the tattooed perfection. "Ready in 5," Conor speaks from the curtain. "Thank you," I take one last look into the remains of myself. I press my hand to my chest, feeling the light thump of my heart, one of the remaining parts of who this woman used to be. I stand, the black shawl dragging the ground behind me, the edges ripped and frayed. I pass Conor, grabbing the glass of water and drowning it down. "You've got a big crowd tonight." I smile at him, the facade growing. "Why wouldn't I? Even in this wasteland, I'm still the best singer the world has ever seen." A light centers onto the stage in the back of the venue. I step out beginning the set.

~

217 YEARS AGO

The crowd applause rings through the venue. I raise both my arms taking a bow, soaking in their appreciation. I blow a kiss before sauntering off the stage and behind the curtains where my assistant waits with refreshments. "Honey, I've got someone I want you to meet.” I roll my eyes knowing exactly what that means. “I’m not taking the time today, Louis.” He proceeds to grab my elbow and guide me to the dressing room. “Yes, you are. Especially when it’s a director.” My ears peek at the mention. “A director?”

The door swings open and I see a man sitting on my sofa. Expensive suit and tie, most definitely involved in the business. “There she is!” He extends his arm, grasping my hands, “Our Nation's sweetheart. Boy, my wife is going to be upset at this one.” I smile at him. “Well, the pleasure is all mine. I hope you enjoyed the show.” He beams at me, “the show? Oh, I could’ve watched for hours.”

Louis steps in, tossing my robe over my shoulders and taking my jewelry off my limbs. “Mr. Vander is here to discuss an opportunity for you.”

Mr. Vander nods with excitement brewing. “I certainly am! I’m casting a new film, Under the Covers, and I want you to be our leading lady.” I open my mouth, eyes widening “You know I’m a singer, not an actress, right?” Mr. Vander waves his hands in protest. “That's just the thing! I've had some written songs for the film. It's not a full-blown musical, but I'm widening my wings. I guarantee you will do just peachy!” I twiddle my fingers. “I don’t know, Mr. Vander. The big screen? Me? I just can’t see it.” Mr. Vander slides a script across the table. “Take a look, give me a call. No pressure, Sweetie.” He leaves without another word.

As soon as the door closes Louis is flipping through the pages. “You’re doing this.” I sigh at his words. “Can’t I take a break? It’s been show after show, and now I finally have some time off and you want me to go out to California and embarrass myself? I’ve got a lucky set of cords, that’s all.” I begin to wipe away my makeup.

Louis chuckles as he reads a line from the page. “You would kill this role. She’s a sassy badass. Look! Just read this line right here.” He pushes the paper into my face as I sit. I look over the words with a light giggle before turning to gaze at myself in the mirror. Louis begins, “I made a bad call.” I roll my eyes, “you think? Just sit there and let me do all the work. You men are sure good at causing trouble, but you ain’t too good at getting out of it. That’s where you need me.” I bite my lip as I finish reading. It would be fun to star in a film. Different and unique. I would still be able to sing. Not many singers get the chance to branch out like this. I wave my hand with confidence. “Oh, what the hell? Why not. I’m in.” Louis jumps up in celebration.

The following week I was on the set of a real movie. Trailers lined the lot, makeup bags and racks of clothes in every corner, and people buzzed around in their madness. Louis stands behind me, hands on my shoulders, “You got this.”

“Excuse me? Hi there, I'm Mr. Vander's executive assistant.” A woman asked directly. “If you would follow me. Mr. Vander wanted to make sure of your arrival.” Louis hauls my bag behind him as we follow the woman through the busy lot.

“Mr. Vander? Your star is here.” He flies out of his seat and grabs my hands, kissing my knuckles. “Ah! My leading lady! My Songbird! I am so happy you decided to say yes. We are going to make this such a special film. Now if you please follow me, I’d like to introduce you to your costar.” Walking a short way, we stop at a scenic backdrop where a man is walking down the street. He dips down an alleyway silently. He tips his hat slightly, before walking towards a building in question. Loud bells ring out, and the buzz of people continues, as their tasks have switched.

“Cooper,” Vander waves the man over once the scene has been cut. “This is our leading lady. She’ll be portraying Mary.” The man takes the hat off and shakes my hand lightly. “Cooper Howard. It’s a great privilege. My daughter adores your records.” His cheery smile and soft eyes struck me. His skin is smooth and warm to the touch. I had to kick myself just to speak. “Hello, Mr. Howard.” "Oh please, call me, Cooper."

And from then on, from that one moment, I was in trouble.

We would rehearse together, have our lunch together, and have dinner together when the day rolled around too late to go home. It became a natural routine. He made me feel special. By 4 weeks in I was in deep shit. I couldn't wait to see him. He started to invade my mind at all hours of the night. I started to question if he would like certain outfits as I put them on each day.

He told me about his life. He shared little details that seemed intimate. I sit in my makeup chair as he enters my trailer with a coffee. "Your ears must've been burning. I was just going to ask for one." I tease as I take the cup into my hands. He smiles that dumb smile, and I can feel myself sink into the chair. My makeup artist twists a tube of liner and groans upon seeing the state of said liner. "Ugh, I need to get another lip liner, don't move." I sit very still with wide eyes making her laugh. "I didn't mean it literally!" I smile as the door shuts. It doesn't take Cooper but a second to be standing over my chair, hands on my shoulders, exchanging glances in the mirror. It was now 9 weeks into filming, and I was fucked. I was completely infatuated with this man.

I feel the exposed skin on my shoulders burns as his fingertips brush over it. I feel my head lean into his touch ever so slightly. "You look beautiful." Why the fuck was he doing this to me? It's on purpose, it has to be. He certainly didn't act like this to any other female on set. Was it just a method to make sure we had that connection when we filmed?

Cooper's light squeeze on my shoulders brings me back. I smile at him in the mirror. He tilts his head, "You alright, darlin'?" I nod silently. Cooper leans down, his lips trailing up my ear as he whispers, “You nervous about the kiss?” I stare into his eyes, mine widening. “I thought we weren’t filming that scene until a few weeks.” His smirk only grows. I unknowingly provided my answer. I knew I was going to say it if he didn’t leave my trailer. I couldn't help myself. His fingers burned my skin. My lungs filled but wouldn't release. I was surely going to burst. "I-" "FOUND IT!" My makeup artist walks in victorious. "Cooper, they need you on set." I avert my eyes from him, trying to control my breathing. He nods and releases my shoulders before exiting. I felt my body exhale the large sigh I was holding in. I shake my head lightly trying to push my inner thoughts away.

~

The detective watches the passing car. He begins to trail the group on foot as they turn down a street. "Well, if it isn't my big tipper." He looks up to see Mary Jones, the singer from the club the men in question were just seen leaving. She makes her way across the street, meeting him under the lamplight. He was losing his chance, but he would get shot if he was promised she'd be the last thing his eyes set upon. "Just leaving, Mary?" He narrows his eyes at her. She knew something. She was the boss's favorite girl after all. The detective points down the road. "Those men, did they mention anything interesting?" She narrows her eyes, "Are you asking me to go against my boss? Where else would I sing?" Her sly smile cuts him deep. He wishes no harm to come to his beauty. He could let them get a head start. He lays his hand on her waist, pulling her in, their faces inches apart. "Now, you listen, doll. Those men, they could hurt you." Mary runs a gloved finger over his bottom lip. "And I can handle myself, sugar." She stares at his lips, her tongue darting to wet her own. “But if you’re so concerned, why don’t you walk me home? Make sure I get there safe and sound.” They move swiftly down the streets sharing cigarettes and longing gazes.

He leans on her door, drinking her in. “Don’t go to the club tomorrow.” He says in a whisper. She picked his chin up, “You understand I have to. But you can come visit and return this for me.” She leans up pressing her body against him, attaching their lips in harmony. His hands moved to grip her waist, pulling a small moan from her mouth.

“CUT!”

I blink quickly, suddenly becoming very aware of my closeness to Cooper. Hell, I just kissed the man. Well, Mary technically kissed the detective. I beg my bones to stay professional, but the heat growing in my core causes me to shutter.

"Beautiful! Just stunning. I could swear you LOVE this man! Singer my ass, you picked the wrong path Sweets." Mr. Vander cries as he takes off the headset. He spins me around dramatically. "My little songbird!"

"Whoa, now, bud. Don't go breaking her," Cooper's voice peels out in a firm tone. Mr. Vander sets me down, holding me at arm's length. "Now, this Friday we will be filming your solo. So, drink some tea or whatever the fuck you do." I laugh trying to sway back and forth to gather friction between my legs. I can feel his body heat next to me. He lays an arm on the small of my back, drawing circles. I jump lightly at his trailing fingers. I need to get away from him before my internal flames ignite this entire lot.

"Cooper, I need you to rehearse as much as you can. Love you, buddy, but you have two left feet and your chops are going to need some tuning. So, with that being said, please spend every waking moment together." Fucking great. Vander walks away but turns back quickly. "And Cooper, I want you both in the dance studio tomorrow morning. Jessica wants to rework the choreography."

I am so fucked. I can barely stand close to this man now without wanting to pounce on him. I take the larger shawl off my shoulders and toss it on the chair. I begin to walk away to my trailer, but Cooper catches my elbow. "Hey." I smile lightly, I take a second glance at his lips, missing the warmth. I register his lips moving, sound coming from his mouth, but I can't hear a word he says. I grab the collar of his shirt, bringing his lips down to meet mine in a rushed kiss.

The echo of my name and his fingers snap in front of my face. I shake my head, running away from the thoughts. "Yeah?" I stare anywhere but his eyes, I stare at his hair, his eyebrows, lips... fuck, I'm looking at his lips again. I turn away from him and make my way to the trailer door. "I'm sorry, Cooper. I am just so tired." I open the door, but his hand pushes it shut before I can escape. He leans down with furrowed brows. "You seem frazzled." He runs a single digit up my arm causing goosebumps to run along my skin. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold the shutter inside. I shake my head, "No, I just didn't sleep well, and today ran long. Just tired."

He hums softly. His finger traced the strap of my dress. “You look so beautiful.” I shutter at his touch, and he knows it.

He opens the trailer door for me, "Then you better get some rest. I'll have you worn out tomorrow." WHAT? He must be fucking with me.

I feel the smirk creep on my lips. Unable to hold it in, I allow myself to surrender just a little. I reach out, straightening his shirt collar, and adding a subtle tug. "I think you'll be surprised how tired I can make you." I watch as his eyes search mine. Seeming to dig into my soul. Finding me and my true desires. He leans down ever so slightly, like a magnet forcing us together. Inches between us, so so close, but I pat his chest with a smirk. I watch as Cooper opens his eyes with stardust lining his lashes. I whisper to him, "Goodnight, Cooper." And I close the trailer door. Just an inch before it shut, Cooper caught it with his hand.

He peals the door open, stepping inside, making me back away into the small counter. He stares into my soul, communicating silently. He dips down quickly capturing my lips. His hands guided me to the small couch. Clothes were torn, and only the essential items were removed for our intimate skin to brush against each other. Cooper rushed to tear my panties away, and I was right behind him, pulling his rock-solid cock from his pants.

He fucks my body deep into the couch, the repeated grinding against my clit causing sparks to ignite. I clasp at the wide planes of his back, my fingernails skidding down the fabric of his dress shirt, threatening to rip the material. "Cooper, fuck!" I moan out as I watch where our bodies meet. Cooper took my wrist, pinning my arms above my head, sinking into me deeper. He watches me with knitted brows, completely lost in the actions. He dives down to my neck, teeth grazing a spot on my neck that stimulates the blissful warmth.

It's rolling through me, I can feel the tightness building in my core, the cord tightening. I toss my head back, closing my eyes. He pushes deeper. The trailer gives a slight rock, as our moans fill the vicinity. If anyone was near there would be no hiding our actions.

"Oh my God, I'm coming." I pant, the coil popping and my release begins flowing. I arch up into his chest. Cooper pulls out, finishing on the crumpled costume. I breathe deeply for what feels like hours. I open my eyes to see Cooper smirking above me, soft kisses peppering my cheeks as his hands glide down my arms, releasing where he's had them pinned above my head. Unable to move I just stare at him as I catch my breath.

“Oh my god.” He breathes out, readjusting himself before sitting by my feet. A smirk builds its way to his mouth. He runs a thumb over my legs.

I stay silent. I feel like I should pinch myself. I could swear I was dreaming if it wasn't for his fingertips trailing up my leg.

Oh, fuck, this was a mistake. This is so wrong. Maybe this was just a moment of weakness. He has a wonderful family...

He calls my name softly, continuing his soft touches. "You're thinking too loud, darlin'." I sit up, jitters still running through my body. "How could I not? That was-" "Amazing." He leans in catching my lips again, softly this time around. He pulls away, just enough to whisper. "Let me walk you to your car." I nod wordlessly, quickly changing into my regular clothing. Just as we are about to walk out the door, I tug his arm. "Wait." I press my lips down on his, meeting perfectly.

He walks me to the car, only passing a few stragglers, but paid them no mind, his hand still glued to my waist. He opens the door to my car, allowing me to get seated. He leans down with a smile, "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, beautiful."

As I drive away down the road, my smile slowly fades. "Oh, my god." I just slept with someone's husband, and I loved it! I stare at myself in the rearview mirror. I let myself fall limply against the headrest. I curse his name lowly as I fall into the shame of the actions I am committing behind closed doors.

~

Her car door shuts, and I am left staring at her vehicle slowly disappearing. my eyes in a daze, cheeks perking the color of a rose. Hell, I'm acting like a damn teenager. She makes me feel things again. Certain feelings of the warmth a good woman like her can spread. I am fucked. She was so warm, so tight. She fit so perfectly around my cock. I wanted to go slow, I was trying to beg myself to pace myself, but she was too irresistible.

I chuckle, running a finger over my lips. I had kissed costars before. It was never a problem. It certainly never leads to scandalous acts, but when it comes to her it seems everything is out of the ordinary for me. I shake my head lightly as I am whisked to my car. Floating on the memory of her eyes, laugh, kissable plump lips, and skin that smelt of strawberry jam. It was those thoughts that got me home. It was those thoughts that invaded my mind as poured myself a drink upon entry. They were also the thoughts that broke the thread as I pumped my shaft in my hand, once again overcome with the need for her. Concealed in the master bathroom, in the shower, allowing myself to fantasize about another woman. "Fuck," Her name left my mouth in a breathless moan.

I looked into the mirror at the man before me. He was a shameful mess. The present visions of her supplying my imagination didn't trouble me. The constant pressing of my cock threatening to twitch at the sound of her voice on the radio didn't trouble me. What troubled me was the fact that I enjoyed every second of it. I yearned for the morning sun each night, the fact of knowing I would be able to see her the next day was enough to close my eyes each night. I would get to hold her, brush her hair behind her ears, and smell the sweetness of her skin. A shameful mess I was indeed. The want grew each hour I spent thinking of her.

~

The bright sun in the sky barely kissed the hills as I opened the door to the studio. I was more in my element. Acting was fun, but I had been missing the feeling of confidently knowing what to do. In here, I could sing and sway to my plans and no one would correct me. I stretch on the ground freely, humming as I do. The door opens and I look back, silently hoping Cooper walks through. But it's just, Louis.

"Well, you seem to be in a good mood this morning," Louis calls out from the door. I smile at him, continuing to stretch. "I just caught up on some much-needed rest." Yes... Rest...

Louis eyes me up and down, not convinced. "I'm not buying that shit. What happened? You look... different. Did you curl your hair for rehearsal?" I slap his hand away from my hair. "So what if I did? I have appearances to keep up."

Louis rolls his eyes, "Yeah fucking right." He lies down on the floor with me as I stretch. "Who was it?" I look at him in confusion, "What?" Louis cackles, "Who did you fuck? Come on I want details." "No one. My god, Louis. Make yourself useful and go put my bag up." Louis tosses the bag over his shoulder with a smirk. "I'm just saying, you've never been this perky in the morning unless you've been riding a dick all night." I cover my eyes in embarrassment. Several of the crew were on set now and heard what Louis blared out. "Shut the fuck up." I snide at him.

I look around in hopes that Cooper wasn't around to see or hear the exchange, but I am never so lucky. He stands at the back of the room, tying his shoes, a small smirk littering his lips. If he did hear, then he is acting like he didn't.

He waltzes over looking awkward. Fuck, I knew this was going to be weird. I narrow my eyes at him as he sways from one foot to the other. "You okay?" I ask with a small smile. He was finally on my rank. These were my stomping grounds and he was completely lost. A light confidence perks in my veins. "Not much of a dancer, or a singer for that matter." He watches as I spin, the black leotard hugging my body. I catch his eyes burning into my frame. "I'm sure you're better than you think." "Oh, I don't know. Never been good at dancing with pretty women."

Jessica stands in front of us and the few extras needed. "I want to run the solo with the choreography from the first take. I know we talked about it, and I know you said you weren't all for the sexy moves, but-"

"No, let's do it." I want to run it." I interrupt her quickly, her eyes lighting up. She claps her hands with a smile. "Everyone else, take your position. We're going to run it."

Jessica gives me the floor as she begins the music. I feel the chords flowing, the music taking over. I begin the rehearsed song and choreography. Swaying lightly to begin, but slowly making out into the crowd. I sing and turn around the tables, captivating the eyes of everyone in the room. One in particular looked as if he was fighting his own will to stay seated. I sing as I sit at the table he's at. His eyes dive into mine and suddenly it is just the two of us, and I am singing directly to him.

I rest my hand on his chest. I can feel the rapid thump of his heart. Cooper stands placing his hands on either side of my face as I sing. He allows his hand to feel down the side of my body. Memorizing the curves of my waist. I turn his head to look back into my eyes, finishing the melody. He brings my face in, passionately pressing his lips down onto mine. Applause erupts from the studio, but he doesn't pull away. Cooper grips my waist tightly, dragging me to the edge of the table, pushing his hardened cock into my thigh. I gasp feeling his length against my leg.

Unknowing to others, but I know. By the look on his face, he knows that I know. A smirk grew on his lips. “I’d say that scene will be perfect, darlin’.” Cooper pulls away from my body, the warmth disappearing. He sits in the seat watching my every move such as a predator stalking their prey.

[sweetheartsaku]

—love and deepspace rafayel ; like a song ive never listened to but i know every lyric

a/n ; [fem!reader] @oracleofstars DAY 3 PROMPT AND FIRST LND POST WOOHOO doing this one bc im in band huhuhuhu :3c

larkspur !

concerts have always felt like a fever dream.

and the absolute tingle down your spine when you managed to swiftly choose and buy front-row tickets to THE 3VOLS concert?? your heart was basically beating out of your chest. to make your heart even tighter, a little pop-up had appeared on your laptop screen basically screaming at you: "DON'T LEAVE AFTER THE CONCERT ♡" in rafayel's iconic handwriting, with its own messy yet neat flare to it. one of your favourite members.

you wonder what a singer like him could possibly be doing after a concert as big as this. especially for a smaller artist like him, maybe he wanted to get to know what his fans are like? a social experime-

the cold breeze of your open window kisses your cheek causing you to snap out of your daze. your cream curtain had been blowing fresh air, it made you feel more alive, especially having it slightly open in the early mornings. the sunlight would bleed into the curtains onto your sheets and the early bustling of the beautiful city would awaken.

a small blue jay chirps outside, and your phone chimes reminding you to bring your purse.

you slot your gentle lip tint and wallet, your phone's little dangling charms clinking with all the other knick-knacks in your purse. and for the final touch, the little rafayel chibi keychain attached with a beaded charm you had bought by impulse (listener like artist?).

you connect your white headphones sprinkled in stickers, playing his latest track. one of your favourites from their most recent single, Tip Toe.

"even better to be experienced live" you smiled, as you tap on your bus card. you take a seat nearest in-between the back and the middle, claiming your seat closest to the window.

you had always been drawn to the more charismatic, charming and... magnetic members. that one, being rafayel.

before you even knew it, you had already arrived at the bar it was set, a very cozy and warm atmosphere fills the air. there were people on the stage, setting up xavier's iconic deep red bass and zayne's pearly keytar. the stage was littered in little bits of glitter, and warm fairy lights.

a shiver of your heart knew this was going to be a magical experience.

placing your headphones around the strap of our bag, you stand in awe at the centre of the audience area, eyes shimmering. bejewelled.

suddenly a dark, veronica lilac shade came into sight.

rafayel.

"RAFAYEL?????" your mind was running laps, taken aback by the sudden sight of the man of your dreams in front of you, setting up his own mic still looking back backstage presumably talking to staff.

he was dressed in an unbuttoned white polo with a loose black tie on top, paired with worn out denim jorts and a pair of thick socks with leathery brown dress shoes.

ohmygoodness.

they weren't wrong when they said he was prettier in real life. to make it even worse, you were one of the only people in that standing area.

"oh? you must be early. we still have an hour or so till' the show starts." he tilts his head towards you, looking back down at his mic

"e-eh?! you're talking to... me?!" you lock your eyes with his lilac ones, and gain composure.

"i mean... well yeah. i prefer to get to events early!!" you smile.

he looks back up, impressed by her gentle demeanour finding her cute being so shocked he was talking to her.

"well, that's good. and don't worry. i'm not some big celeb, just a guy who loves his band and has the eye for the arts, if i do say so myself. no need to be shy.", he chuckles.

oh wow. he's so much more charismatic in real life too. your ears become warm, thinking this is all a daze.

"well, i hope to see you in the crowd, hm?"

"yep! i'll be in the front row... chookas?"

"thank you. hope to see ya' after the show."

something about her... was different.

she was alluring. her soul... it was... beyond description. would he really believe in love at first sight after every other soul he's fallen for?

stealing glances at you throughout the concert, he notices your passionate aura and your shouts of the lyrics from the latest single, Tip Toe.

xavier finds himself noticing rafayel's eyes on you, he felt captivated, enchanted if you will, as he saw you sing to his music. xavier smiles to himself as he gets fired up for his solo part in the following 3 bars.

he had 3 songs left till he could finally interact with you again.

after the concert, 3VOLS bow and grin, feeling accomplished playing their latest single flawlessly. now, he just had to see if people payed attention to the pop up on the ticket site.

the small maintenance crew had efficiently set up the little tables filled with boxes, revealing little pouches containing little trinkets and freebies organised by the boys to express their gratitude for supporting and attending their concert and simply just enjoying their music. each little bag was organised by member, letting the people who had noticed the little pop up choose their favourite member's freebies.

you managed to get a early spot in the small crowd of people. peering over a shoulder, it seemed like they were having a small meet and greet.

ohmygoodness.

WERE TALKING TO THEM PERSONALLY AGAIN??? this cannot be real. PLEASE LET ME GET A TURN WITH RAFAYEL!!

the little crowd was progressively moving, now the time awaits on you to be able to have the opportunity to greet the first debuted member, xavier. he held hands with you, smiling as he directed his eyes towards rafayel.

DOES HE KNOW MY FAVOURITE IS RAFAYEL??

"oh, i noticed your little raf' keychain. its cute." he gleams. in reality, he knows rafayel has had an eye on you. little did you know, his eyes were still on you as you held hands with xavier.

you giggle, thanking him and interacting with zayne. you reach rafayel at the end of the table, and he automatically hands you the pouch of trinkets filled with little freebies chosen by rafayel himself.

"honestly, my eye for the arts makes my pouch one of the best decorated here." he playfully chuckles.

"hm... maybe. we'll see when i open it!"

"can't wait. did you enjoy the show?"

"oh my gosh of course!! my favourite had to be Tip toe. or Saturn, or WDYS... i can't choose!! oh and Over 85 was also re- oops. i just enjoyed the entire show! you did so well!!"

"i'm happy to hear that. the experience was magical for me too." he says as they exchange closed eye smiles.

you extend your hand and he laces his hands with yours, slightly cold fingertips sending a pang through your heart. you bid your goodbyes and thank you's, heart warm and mind at ease.

you exit the bar, taking in the deep night city air.

oh gosh. well that just happened.

you untie the little purple ribbon that embraced the little pouch. what came to your surprise, a little piece of paper had fallen out.

hm? what's thi-

you're cute. heres my number, ⌝

XXXX-XXX-XXX

i think i wanna get to know ya'.

⌞ xoxo, rafayel. ᡣ𐭩

larkspur, representing first love and sweet disposition.

your voice , ⌝

like a song i've never listened to

⌞ but i know every lyric.

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong.

if you’ve got a girlfriend, i’m jealous of her, but if you’re single, that’s honestly worse ‘cause you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts (honey, it hurts). ocean blue eyes looking in mine, i feel like i might sink and drown and die. you’re so gorgeous, i can’t say anything to your face, ‘cause look at your face. and i’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.

Steve’s been spending the summer at his parents house in Beverly Hills. His parents want him to think about his future, to consider college or some career, to get out of the house at the very least, but he’s only nineteen. How is he supposed to know what he wants to do for the rest of his life?

He thinks maybe he’ll ask his dad for a small part in his next movie. Maybe Steve can become an actor, walking red carpets and going to all the best parties. Steve could ask to be in the one he’s filming now, but Steve’s got a busy schedule full of parties and clubbing with his friends who are home for the summer. Plus he doesn’t want to miss out on watching the landscaper who comes every Thursday to weed his mother’s garden, mow the lawn, and clean out the pool.

The landscaper is… hot. Steve has no idea where his mother found Munson&Son, but he thanks whatever gods exist for their favor every week. Every time he hears the big landscaping truck pull up the driveway, Steve rushes to the front window of his bedroom to hide behind his curtains and watch the beautiful long-haired, tattooed guy unload the ride-on lawnmower from the trailer.

He’s not much older than Steve, maybe twenty or twenty-one. He always starts with his hair down, curly, hanging around his shoulders, like he thinks something about this time will be different and he won’t have to tie it up. Whatever the reason, Steve is thankful because there’s just something about watching him flip his hair up on top of his head, twisting his wrists around each other to tie it in a messy bun, that really gets to him.

Steve stands there watching like this is his favorite television show. He brings his glass of iced tea with him and absentmindedly sips it through a straw with his attention glued on his mother’s rose garden. The guy wears these grubby gloves, thick and brown, and he has to wipe his brow with the back of his wrist. Steve thinks it looks like really hard work, knows the landscaper’s arms are lightly muscled, his torso wiry and toned. Steve imagines what the guy’s chest might feel like under Steve’s own fingertips, feels the sweat break out on the back of his own neck as the guy bags up the weeds and throws them in the back of the truck.

Steve holds his breath, waits for it. This is when it happens, when the landscaper climbs on to the ride-on lawnmower and peels off his sweat-soaked shirt. Steve licks his lips as he watches, traces the lines of the guy’s chest tattoos with his eyes—can’t help but imagine what they might taste like—watches as he wipes at the sweat on his chest with his shirt before throwing it in the back of the truck along with the bags of weeds from the garden.

Steve has to take a sip of his iced tea again and considers taking off his own shirt. He pulls at his collar as he remembers that he actually has to breathe to, like, live or whatever. He loves watching the landscaper drive around their lawn on the lawnmower, can’t look away from the way the muscles in his arms tighten and release as he steers. Steve thinks many, many, many thoughts as he watches and drains his glass, ice clinking at the bottom.

The guy is done with the lawn and Steve knows he’ll head to the back of the house to work on the pool. This is when Steve takes a break, fills his glass with more iced tea, and gets his heartbeat under control on his way to his parents room, which overlooks the pool.

This is Steve’s favorite part, because the landscaper has to peel off his cargo pants to reveal his very short swim trunks—Steve has memorized the guy’s thigh tattoos—so he can get into the middle of their admittedly quite large pool. It’s Steve’s favorite part of their Beverly Hills house; he’d been on the swim team at his boarding school and he loves floating in the middle of the clear water on nights when the moon is full and he can see all the stars over their house. They’re far enough from the city and their neighborhood has enough regulations against light pollution that the summer skies are relatively clear.

Watching the landscaper wade into Steve’s favorite place in the world makes him really start thinking Thoughts. He imagines how weightless they both would feel, skinny dipping under the full moon. Sometimes, his thoughts aren’t even all that horny; Steve is just a lonely, privileged kid, really. He imagines what it would be like to make the landscaper laugh, to splash him and dunk him in the water before pulling him close and crashing their lips together. And then his thoughts turn decidedly more horny. He’s nineteen, after all.

After a while, the landscaper finishes and starts pulling his vacuum out of the pool, winding up the long hose before pulling his cargo pants back on. It’s so hot, his clothes will dry almost instantly.

As the guy turns, chest still bare and hair still tied up, Steve sees the moment he notices movement in the window. Steve briefly considers ducking down, face flaming hot, but he’s already been caught and he thinks it would be even more incriminating to act like he’s been caught. The guy waves up at him, makes a gesture like he wants Steve to open the window.

Steve licks his lips and does it, holding his breath, nervous.

“Enjoy the show?” The guy yells up at him, grinning wide.

Steve laughs nervously, hand sweating around his glass. He decides the lean into it; he’s already been caught staring after all.

“Sure did,” he yells back down, giving the guy a very obvious once over. The guy’s smile widens.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, scratching at his chest. “My band’s playing a show tonight. You should come.”

Steve’s mouth goes dry. How was his creepy staring actually working out for him?

“Oh, yeah?” He tries his hardest to sound flirty and ignored the pounding of his heart. “Where?”

Eddie tells him the name of the club, some place on the side of town Steve normally wouldn’t be caught dead in. Then he asks, “what’s your name, sweetheart?” Steve smiles and tells him before Eddie continues. “I’ll put you on the list. See you tonight, Stevie.”

Steve shakes his head, still grinning, before shutting the window. And who would blame his if he lingered at the window just a little longer to watch Eddie lift his vacuum and haul it around to the front of the house?

He hears the truck start up as he walks through the doorway to his own bedroom, making his way over to his walk-in closet and thumbing at his phone, clicking on Robin’s speed-dial. He��s got another show to get ready for.

I made this post and then decided to take matters into my own hands :’)

[radiowallet]

Taste

Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

I do not use a taglist. Follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications for updates.

Summary: Marcus uses his powers to help you feel better. Pairing: Marcus Moreno x f!reader WC: 3.2K Warnings: Mature 18+ MDNI Period sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), talk of blood, blood kink, loose rules surrounding super powers and metal manipulation. Hurt/Comfort. Established relationship. A/N: Unbeta'd and living on the edge! I've been rolling this idea around in my head, especially the more time I spend thinking about Marcus's powers as a whole. Big huge dedication to @magpie-to-the-morning. Love you, my pumpkin wife.

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Marcus lets himself in quietly, taking note of your apartment as he closes the front door gently behind him. It’s dark, your curtains closed against the yellow glow of streetlights, covering everything in shades of ink black. A sharp cut of green light from the digital numbers on your microwave filters out of the kitchen, not nearly enough to see by, but startling nonetheless. He doesn’t bother reaching for the light switch, preferring instead to make his way through the shadows with the help of his other senses. 

The only sound he hears at first is his own breathing, but with each second that ticks by, Marcus is met with the little bits and pieces of your presence. The radiator clangs and clings as it pumps a comfortable heat into the apartment, still finding its footing after a long summer without use. Heavy footfall sounds from up above; your noisy neighbor flitting around as they prepare for a night out. And behind your firmly closed bedroom door, small moans and muffled tears – you’re in pain. 

The carpet gives softly beneath his feet, shoes slipped off at the door, his slow steps leading him down the hall and closer to you. Thick fingers loosen his tie with measured practice, the silk slipping easily from around his neck, one, two, three buttons popped free right after. He can smell the faintest tinge of ginger in the air, the warm burn mingling with the sting of gas from your stove, and without even looking Marcus knows he’d find your tea kettle still cooling in the kitchen, a mug of half-finished tea in the sink.

You had alluded to a headache, complaining between jokes and a wave of your hand when the two of you met up for lunch earlier in the day, never one to want him to worry. You had kissed him chastely on the cheek and apologized for breaking your dinner plans, leaving early for the day to rest. Marcus had watched you go with only the smallest of frowns, taking in your stiff legs, your pinched shoulders, and the way your hand rubbed not so subtly at your lower back. 

He had only been guessing then, a haphazard assumption laced with his own anxiety holding him back from asking outright. But now he was certain; here, alone in your apartment, just the two of you, the sterile white-washed walls of the Heroics headquarters left far behind. 

He knows it’s no headache.

Marcus swallows, just once, his entire throat shifting up then down with the force of it. He can taste it. 

Taste you. 

Acidic and sharp, biting at the tip of his tongue. A flavor he is intimate with, his powers bringing the copper colored burn of iron to the forefront of his taste buds. It’s a piece of himself easily ignored most days; always preferring the feel of cool metal in his hands as opposed to the hot thrum of blood in another’s veins. But when he closes his eyes with focused intent it’s there, just below the surface – the beat of a stranger’s heart, a bruise blossoming on a criminal’s cheek, the pulse of blood as it clots inside you.

Each and every nerve ending is alight with pleasure, his fingers twitching in search of release, a magnetic pull that keeps him moving, always moving, towards you. 

He pushes into your bedroom just as gently as he did your front door, calling your name in a hush, desperate not to startle you. The covers move, only slightly, the whites of your eyes peeking out amongst the darkness, his name tumbling from your lips. He crosses to you in three steps, kneeling down beside your bed, one large palm cupping the swell of your cheek. 

Closer now, he can see how you’ve swapped your stiff office clothes for a loose tank top, bare arms wrapped tightly around your middle. Out of the corner of his eye he spots a bottle of tylenol and a glass of water on your small bedside table, and by his feet, a heating pad, pushed to the floor, seemingly in frustration. 

“Hurts,” is all you manage to say before your eyes stitch shut, another groan curling your body in and away from Marcus’s touch. 

He shushes you, leaning in to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw, his nose breathing in the heat of your skin. He inhales, deep and quick, holding the taste of you inside his mouth, burning iron rushing hot and needy inside him. It’s intoxicating, his mouth watering at the imagined feel of you on his tongue. He swallows hard, keeping his own moan from slipping past his lips, breathy and full and wanting for more. Your scent overwhelms and overtakes, saturating his senses with the familiar shape of liquid iron stinging at the tip of his tongue. He kisses you, a hard press of his lips on yours, in a small attempt to quell his hunger but the salt spit taste of you only seems to spur him on.

“Marcus,” you whine, neck craning towards him even as the rest of you pulls away. “S’not a headache.”

You whisper the admission into the crease of his kiss, and even if you had been the picture of health, he still wouldn’t have the heart to call you on the lie. He smooths one hand up the back of your neck, rubbing circles, persistent and smooth into your clenched muscles until finally he feels them start to loosen. 

“How can I help?”

Your nod is slight, barely seen in the dark of your room, your answer a hushed beg. Hold me. 

He strips down to just his briefs, glasses discarded on your bedside table, before joining you beneath the covers, your back pressed firmly to his front. He slowly drags his hand down the length of your torso, squeezing at your hip once, before sliding his palm beneath your tank top and letting it rest against the bare skin of your stomach. 

A shiver ripples through you, another groan of pain chasing after it, your body turning further in, knees curling up to meet your chest. You’re warm all over, tender and raw, limbs drawn tight and muscles tense. The smell of you fills Marcus whole, and the need to have you in every way grows stronger with each breath of you he pulls into his lungs. His cock is half-hard already, and when you push deeper into his embrace he knows you feel it too. 

Both of you still, and he stifles a grunt, the plush of his bottom lip worried between his teeth, trapping the spark of arousal in his throat. He wants to lean into this feeling. He wants to chase away the ache deeply seated inside you and sate the one burning in him. He wants to slide the pads of his fingers between your folds and feel the hum of his power. He wants to pull the dark red rust of iron away and replace it with the slick pool of your arousal. He wants to curl his tongue inside you; he wants to taste your copper tinged sweetness from the source. He wants to take your pain and twist and shape and fold it away with these gifts he’s been given. 

He wants to heal. Never hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus chokes out, forehead falling forward, eyes slamming shut. 

He tries to cheat his hips back, guilt soaked embarrassment filling his gut, but you follow, chasing his warmth across your sheets, the curves of your body curling into him. He savors the feel of you, soft skin such a delicious contrast to cold steel. 

He flattens one large palm just below your belly button, soft waves of electricity warming his fingertips. The blood shifts and shapes inside you. He can feel it, see it, starting to flow, clots thinning, muscles loosening, your body sinking like lead into the mattress below. Your lips part around a sigh, relief pouring out of you and tracing the shadows wrapped around the room. The sound is sweet in his ears, his hips thrusting up to meet it before he can stop himself.

You sigh again, your voice quiet between breaths. “I’ve heard it can help.”

He hums in question, nose and lips finding the spot just behind your ear; a kiss placed gently to encourage.

And then, so softly, “Sex.”

He swallows around another groan, refusing to move, his fingertips still splayed out wide across your belly, keeping you close. 

“Do you,” a pause, brief, reluctant to push too hard. “Do you want to try?”

You turn your head away, neck straining with the effort of it, your words muffled into your pillow. Marcus doesn’t catch most of it, your voice caught between a laugh and a groan. He kisses your heated skin again and again, until finally you turn back to him just enough for him to hear one word.

Gross.

He moves quickly. A strike of lightning flipping up and over you, taking care to cradle you to him. He thrusts his cock up against your core with a deliberate slowness, letting you feel the rock-hard length of him, groaning loudly in time with your heavy gasp.

“You,” he grinds out, voice straining as he presses you down into the mattress with the weight of his hips, “are not gross.” 

“Never gross. Every inch of you is beautiful and perfect and this is a part of you,”he rambles, words pouring out of him between each kiss of his lips. “I could never think…not ever…Please, please,” he begs,” let me show you.” 

The whole of him finally stills, his forehead finding yours, his lips a breath away from one more kiss. You lock eyes in the dark, shadows of black and grey cutting across your features, and after what feels like minutes instead of seconds, you nod. 

Marcus grins, then hums, slipping out of bed and crossing over to your bathroom in three long steps. He comes back with a towel and helps you get comfortable on top of it, your clothes stripped away in the seconds he was gone. He settles back down beside you, his hand smoothing up and down your torso, taking care to start slow, sweet platitudes whispered into your ear. 

“If it hurts I’ll stop. I will, but I’ve wanted to do this since I got here. Wanted to make you feel good.” 

With each sweep of his hand he dips lower and lower, until finally he’s slipping his fingers between your legs, the muscles trembling from the light touch. He shushes you, breath fanning hot on your temple as he finally dips one finger between your folds. The blood catches along his touch, and the friction is almost too much, but Marcus moves slowly, dragging the pad of his finger up to your clit. 

Your body doesn’t respond at first, all of you pulled taut, your muscles coiled tightly around your anxiety. Marcus is patient, moving back and forth across your clit, savoring the feel of liquid iron coating his finger. He continues to whisper sweet adorations into the sweat of your skin, until finally he feels you melt into his side, your hips canting up in search of more friction. 

“That’s my girl,” he coos, unable to resist pressing a kiss to your temple along with his words. “I’m going to slide my finger inside you now, okay?”

You whine, the noise pushed through the clench of your teeth, your head bobbing in a helpless nod.

“Words,” he prompts, pressing down onto your clit, letting his powers vibrate, a steady thrum pulsing into you. 

“Yes,” you gasp, body jolting up and off the mattress. “Please.”

When he finally slips his finger up inside you it’s bliss, your cunt clenching tightly around him as fucks gently into your tender core. Blood and arousal ease his way, and soon enough he’s slipping in a second finger, brushing kisses along your cheek as he stretches you open. 

“You feel so good. Wet and warm and squeezing my fingers so tight. Do you feel it? Does it feel good, sweet girl?”

You nod, your mouth parting around your little cries of pleasure. Marcus is obsessed with them, drunk off the sound of you giving into his touch, slick release coating his fingers as pumps into you over and over. You clench tighter every time, pulling his fingers deep inside, and he swears he can feel each pulse of your heartbeat here buried between your legs. 

“Can you come, baby? Are you close?”

A breathy yes is all he hears, your eyes pinched shut, sweaty forehead finding the curve of his cheek as his final encouragement pushes you over the edge. Your body arches up and into his touch, a strangled cry of his name falling from your lips. 

“So good,” Marcus whispers. “You’re so good.”

He whispers it again and again, letting his words wash over you as he slips his fingers out of you, taking care to be as gentle as possible. Unable to stop himself, he brings his fingers to his lips, eager to finally have the smallest taste of you. He savors it, your rusted release coating his tongue. 

Beside him you curl in closer, your thigh trembling where you’ve hitched it along the jut of his hip, your core pressed tightly to his leg. Your lips are an insistent press to his shoulder, teeth scraping lightly across his bare skin.

“Felt good,” you admit, the word panted hot and wet into shoulder, and Marcus can’t help but groan in response. 

“Do you need to come again, baby? Did it help the cramps?” 

You nod again and Marcus feels himself sink, overwhelmed and overcome at how the touch of his hand was able to give you relief. It wasn’t something he ever thought possible, committed to a life of protection through violence, using the burn of his powers to pull apart buildings, to sink cold steel between ribs, to break and fight and scream all in the name of being a hero. 

He licks his lips and swallows back the sound of a sob, his palm finding the bare flesh of your hip, your blood pumping a steady beat in his ears and on his tongue. 

“Can I…can I taste you?” 

Your reply comes quickly, a yes breathed out between each kiss of your lips and Marcus takes care to move slowly. He follows the curves of your body, kissing up the swell of one breast then the other, taking care to suck gently at your nipples until each one is pebbled beneath his kiss. 

When Marcus finally settles between your legs you’re shaking, your hips shifting up and off the bed in search of the relief of his mouth. He shushes you, pushing you back down to the mattress with an urge for patience, settling between your legs with a satisfied grunt.

“I’ve got you, love. I promise,” he murmurs, eyes tracing the swollen lips of your pussy, admiring the way it glistens in the slip of moonlight creasing across your body. 

He leans in, letting the tip of his tongue trace along the seam of your sex, the taste of your release, honey sweet and familiar, assaulting his senses. And with it, something sharp, the acidic bite of blood that’s had him hard since he stepped over the threshold of your front door. He groans into your cunt, licking deep and collecting as much of you as he can, swallowing it down like a man starved. He can feel it thrumming in your veins, down inside your core, the very source of your discomfort.

It feels almost aggressive, the way Marcus laps at you, tongue dipping in and out of you before sliding up to circle your clit. He can feel the slick of your pleasure coating his beard, rust soaked spit dripping down his chin as he eats at you vigorously. He’s careful not to put too much pressure on your thighs, content to let the weight of them rest on top of his shoulders, instead spreading the lips of your pussy apart with his fingers. 

When he pulls back to catch his breath, to focus, he can see the effect he’s had on you, your cunt clenching around nothing, your body writhing back and forth, impatient for release. He tips his head forward, just barely, and circles your clit softly with the tip of his tongue and above him you sob. The sound sends him reeling, his already hard cock throbbing painfully where it’s trapped between him and the mattress. 

With no warning your fingers find the hair curling at the crown of his head and you pull with all of your might, burying his face back between your legs. He doubles his efforts then, licking between your folds again and again, the tip of his thumb circling around your clit. Everything blurs together; your taste, your sounds, your warmth. All of you surrounding him, drowning him, his own blood pumping loud inside his head. 

He chases his own release, fire burning brilliantly up and down his spine, his hips canting roughly into the tangle of towels and sheets. He can feel the precum leaking from the tip of his cock, the thick head catching along the rough cotton of his briefs. He resists the urge to reach down and stroke himself, content to focus on you and only you, the taste and feel of you better than any amount of pressure on his cock could be. He sucks and licks and nips at your folds, humming in satisfaction when he feels the telltale sign of your orgasm, your thighs clenching around his ears. And with one final press of his finger on your clit, his tongue carving deep inside you, you’re coming, a sob of his name painted across your ceiling.

Marcus works you through the waves of peak, licking every drop of you up, refusing to waste the taste of you. His hips keep moving, faster and faster, despite the tender way he handles you. The friction is too much too soon, and soon the familiar warmth of his own release is crashing into him, ropes of cum spilling out of him, soaking his underwear and sticking to his skin. He doesn’t care – fuck, he doesn’t care – rutting his cock as hard as he can into your mattress, desperate to make as big a mess as he can. 

When he finally stills, long enough to catch his breath and peer up at you from between your thighs, he sees the fruits of his labor. Your eyes are half-lidded, your body pulled pleasantly limp. The hand still buried in his curls tugs gently, a silent Thank you that he knows you mean with every single beat of your heart. He kisses the inside of your thigh, pressing a smile to the feverish heat of your flesh, a small yawn parting your lips in response.

“Do you need one more, baby? One more to help you sleep?”

Marcus doesn’t wait for an answer this time, leaning in to dip his tongue back between your wet folds as your legs fall open, your yawn breaking around a pleasant mewl, both of you eager for another taste. 

-------

[aniwahstan]

Prom Shopping: Jegulus, Wolfstar, Rosekiller

From the fic: Where the two creeks meet

✨

“It’s horrid,” Sirius says as he steps out from behind a velvet curtain.

Regulus has to actively hold back the chuckle trying to escape at the too short, too tight, too powder blue dress robes Sirius has tried to squeeze himself into.

“I think it’s perfect,” Barty says, stepping out in all white and ruffles. He does a little spin, to which Evan nods approvingly despite the entire outfit landing somewhere between outlandish and abrasive to the eyes.

“Remus!” Sirius shouts.

A disgruntled moan is the only response from the divided curtain next to Sirius. “Come on, let’s see it then!” Sirius continues to shout, tapping his foot impatiently.

Remus steps out in a bright yellow number, flared trousers, but a fitted cut that does nice things to his chest and his thighs. Sirius stares at his boyfriend, slowly scanning him from head to toe and back up again.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius says, a small whistle following. “Of course you look dashing on your first go.”

“You look -” Remus tries, but Sirius pins him with a look that screams not to finish the thought.

Remus throws his hands up, returning swiftly to his dressing area. Sirius wastes no time, pulling the curtain back. “I’ll help you undress,” he says as he pulls the curtain closed.

“Of course he will,” James says, appearing from thin air at Regulus’ size. “Did you find anything?”

Regulus nods, gesturing to the bag in his hand. James moves for it, but Regulus is quick enough to snatch it away.

“Oh, is it a surprise?” James’ eyebrows bounce with enthusiasm at the thought.

Regulus smiles shyly, letting James believe his own wandering ideas. He’d rather James believe it’s a cheeky little game than the reality that he’s never liked the way he looks in dress robes. Too thin and rigid and stiff.

When it’s James’ turn to reluctantly come out from behind the curtain, his sleek black trousers and matching jacket with a shiny grey tie sitting perfectly on every curve, there’s a long beat of silence.

It’s Peter who breaks it first, a whispered curse falling from his mouth.

“Fit, mate!” Sirius hollers, clapping his hands. Clapping . Like James just achieved something above being unfairly stunning in dress robes.

Of all the people to choose to love, Regulus had to pick the beauty king. The one everyone wants to look at and gawk at. The magnet of all eyes, of all attention.

Regulus feels his neck twitch in a strange motion, suddenly and rough, like a chill moving through his spine.

Love?

The word rolls through his mind, then sits on the tip of his tongue. As fast as when Barty crashed his car through the fence of the farm, all of Regulus’ walls explode into tiny particles, and the realization that he’s in love with this sunny, blatantly fit specimen of a man flows into his thoughts. Aggressively. Unwantedly. Horribly.

He’d once overheard his professor talking of heart palpitations. How his heart couldn’t quite find its healthy beat. It makes such clear sense as his own heart stumbles and skips to an uneven rhythm that sounds eerily like the timbre of James Potter’s laugh.

“Earth to Regulus Black,” he hears through the fog of his realization.

[business-fun-and-adventure]

How to Decorate and Personalize Your RV Interior: Making Your Home on Wheels Truly Yours

Introduction

The allure of RV living is undeniable. It's the promise of the open road, the freedom to explore new horizons, and the joy of having a little piece of home with you wherever you go. But while the adventures outside are thrilling, the interior of your RV is where you'll spend a significant amount of downtime. It's your sanctuary, your retreat, and it deserves attention. Decorating your RV is not just about aesthetics; it's about infusing your personality into a space, making it a true reflection of who you are. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore how you can transform your RV's interior, ensuring it's functional and a beautiful space you're proud to call home. This blog was provided by Oakley Executive RV Storage, the best RV storage near Discovery Bay.

Understanding Your Space

Every great design project begins with understanding the space; your RV is no exception. Given the compact nature of most RVs, it's crucial to approach decorating with a strategic mindset.

Assessing the Layout: Begin by thoroughly examining your RV's layout. Identify areas that get natural light, spots that feel cramped, and spaces that could be better utilized. This initial assessment will serve as a blueprint for your decorating endeavors.

Decluttering: In a limited space, clutter is the enemy. It's easy for items to accumulate in an RV, especially when you're on the road for extended periods. Adopt a minimalist mindset. Regularly assess your belongings, keeping only what's essential and cherished. Remember, every item in your RV should serve a purpose, be it functional or sentimental.

Choosing a Theme or Color Palette

A harmonious interior is often anchored by a cohesive theme or color palette. This becomes even more crucial in smaller spaces like RVs, where discordant elements can make the area feel chaotic.

Seeking Inspiration: Start by seeking inspiration. This could be from nature, a piece of fabric, a painting, or even a memory. Perhaps you're drawn to the calming hues of the ocean or the vibrant tones of a desert sunset.

Mood and Ambiance: Colors evoke emotions. While lighter shades can make a space feel airy and open, darker tones can add warmth and coziness. Consider the mood you want to create. Do you want your RV to be a serene oasis or a lively hub of energy?

Consistency is Key: Once you've chosen a theme or color palette, consistency is key. This doesn't mean you can't have contrasting elements. Still, a common thread should tie everything together, ensuring a harmonious flow.

Maximizing Storage with Style

In the world of RV living, storage isn't just a necessity; it's an art. The challenge is to find innovative storage solutions that maintain style.

Furniture with Benefits: Invest in furniture that serves dual purposes. Think of sofas with storage compartments underneath or tables with hidden drawers. These pieces not only save space but also keep your belongings organized.

Embrace Vertical Real Estate: Walls are often underutilized in RVs. Install shelves, hooks, or magnetic strips to store items vertically. This frees up floor space and draws the eye upwards, creating an illusion of height.

Hidden Storage Gems: Look for hidden storage opportunities. The space under the bed, the back of cabinet doors, or even the ceiling can be turned into storage areas with a bit of creativity.

Soft Furnishings: Comfort & Flair

Soft furnishings are the soul of a home. They add texture, color, and, most importantly, comfort to your space.

Curtains that Speak: Curtains aren't just functional but also major design elements. Choose fabrics that complement your color palette. Consider the practicality, too – blackout curtains can be a boon in bright areas.

Cushions and Throws: These are the easiest way to update your RV's look. Play with patterns, textures, and colors. Remember, they're not just decorative; they add extra comfort to your seating areas.

Rugs that Transform: A rug can anchor a space, define areas, and add warmth underfoot. In an RV, where floor space is premium, pick a rug that fits your room's dimensions and shape. 

Personal Touches: Photos, Art, and Memorabilia

Your RV should be a canvas that tells your story, reflecting your journeys, memories, and dreams.

Photos as Narratives: Photos are windows to your past adventures. Instead of traditional frames, consider creative displays like photo strings or collage walls.

Art that Resonates: Art is subjective. Choose pieces that resonate with you, be it a painting, a sculpture, or even a handcrafted item you picked up during your travels.

Memorabilia as Décor: Every trip has its souvenirs. Instead of stashing them away, use them as décor. A seashell can become a centerpiece, a postcard can be framed, and a piece of fabric can be turned into a throw pillow.

Conclusion

Your RV is more than just a vehicle; it's a home on wheels. With thoughtful design and personal touches, it can be a space that reflects your personality, tells your story, and provides comfort no matter where the road takes you. Read more RV tips, The Benefits of Outdoor RV and Boat Storage During the Off-Season.

Embrace the challenge, infuse your essence, and let every corner of your RV echo the adventures and memories you've created.

[olivewinterleaf]

TALES OF NONAGON

Chapter 7

(The Grand Opening)

It was Moonday the ninth of Nionember. The date of the grand opening was set to coincide with the Nionids display: when about nine very large, bright stars shoot across the sky from the direction of the constellation Nionarius. One of the few celestial objects visible in a sky with a twilight sun.

This was to be followed by a lavish dinner for the patrons.

The long red carpet had been laid out. The gilded carriages and other assorted forms of luxurious transport were arriving, carrying the most gilded arses on the softest velvety-pelt cushions - lest they be subjected to the slightest juddering. Everyone that was anyone was there. Except the Grand Queen herself - much to Pork-Rind’s disappointment and general irritation. A minor royal had been sent in her place.

Madame Pluchette, of course, could not miss an opportunity such as this. She had made sure that she was one of the chosen attendants to keep the patrons from straying on to precious artefacts, should they get a little tiddly during the evening. She was wearing a huge, yellow taffeta dress with a golden, soaring powdered wig and matching golden fake eyelashes; all especially designed for the occasion. The ensemble was completed with a pair of long, silk gloves. She was most annoyed when told by Filibuster-Fartlet that she must put her new uniform bottle-green jacket over it, along with her identity badge.

Nevertheless, this did not stop Madame Pluchette gliding regally from guest to guest, curtsying precariously to balance the enormous wig she had had installed on her head with a substantial amount of glue.

Lord Rancidrimple emerged from his carriage and was carefully placed upon the carpet by his masked retinue to ensure that his spindly body did not break under the strain, for he was a descendant of the Aragnee dynasty, claiming its origins as far back as the Normal Conquest.

Meanwhile, Lord and Lady Perro-Muerto were being announced. The especially hired announcer broadcast their name through a small, golden megaphone so that no clipped vowel could possibly be missed. The Perro-Muertos were related to the South Americium peanut magnet.

Lady Perro-Muerto, being Continental, was wearing the very latest haute couture: a red satin creation of a revealing nature by the renowned and very expensive Christian Low-Rent - best known for his naked breast embellishment creations, which cause such a stir in the fashion shows every season. Lord Perro-Muerto himself looked very elegant in the latest crotch-enhancing fashion.

Soon the White Gallery doubling-as-a-vast-reception-room was full of the exalted and influential, there to witness the Official and Obviously Grand Opening of the New Imperial University of Nonagon Museum of Artefactual Objects.

After a short, yet boring speech given by Pork-Rind, Lord Rancidrimple tenuously held the ceremonial rope and just managed to pull the cord that drew the small curtains without assistance. It revealed the plaque bearing the names of various patrons et cetera. And of course, Pork-Rind’s.

Gravel Retrench smirked to himself knowingly. Though it wasn’t clear what he knew, he was certain that he knew more than anyone else. Especially as he was now in possession of a set of powerful objects. Though it wasn’t clear what form that power would take. Nevertheless, his smugness grew as the evening - and the alcohol, flowed.

Humffrey Twink adjusted his deep blue bow tie, which matched his wide-lapelled tuxedo, and turned away from the congratulatory crowd surrounding the arrogant Pork-Rind. It was typical of the man he had grown to thoroughly dislike over the months, that he should accept all the credit for what had been achieved. Humffrey took a quick slug of some strong liquor from the squat glass in his hand, though he was not sure what it was. He had merely asked for the strongest beverage available, intending to be as anaesthetized as possible for the rest of the evening.

Meanwhile, Filibuster-Fartlet had been busy organising his dwindling team of gallery attendants. Or Gallery Felicitations Conveyancers, as they had been renamed. Those that were still in existence, of course.

After much struggling, Madame Pluchette finally managed to break through the crowd. Then she proceeded to wangle her way into a conversation with Pork-Rind by offering him a glass of champoing and her opinion on the way the collections were displayed, while fluttering her feathery fake golden eyelashes at him. He then proceeded to incandesce with rage that this woman was still not disposed of.

Below the stairs, a throng of world-renowned chefs had been engaged by WIBBLE WHIFF SAUSAGE, caterers to the Grand Queen and the like. Flavours of the freshest and most sensuous treats were sealed by the most delicate pan-frying and embroilments. And plump and pliant meats - blood seeping from their magnificent carcasses - were being stuffed and roasted until succulent.

At the same time each chef was being aided by a massive entourage of catering staff, causing much clanging and clattering and chaos, crammed as they were into the new visitor restaurant’s kitchen as they perfected their dishes.

Mrs Pork-Rind, the director’s wife was overseeing the last touches to the dishes before the final presentation. And checking that all the serving staff were wearing the white gloves she had ordered as part of the uniform for the evening. She looked across the kitchen and noticed a tall caterer winking at her. She nodded discreetly.

Eventually, a parade of enormous platters made their entrance bearing the most sumptuous array of edible delicacies that ever graced a dish, elegantly arranged to imitate rustic scenes. Even the platters themselves were glowing with precious metals and jewels of every description punctuated the rim of each one.

The lavish dinner consisted of nine courses each complemented by a selection of wines. It began with a variety of gastronomic amusements accompanied by champoing and crème de mental fripperies.

Then, after seating, the dinner continued with a classic vintage tomato soup with fresh erbs or, for the more adventurous, pan-fried woodland fungoids on a bed of mixed autumnal leaves. This was followed by a choice of dome of crispilated quiverlette egg salad or petit fillets of porcupest. For the fish course, conglomerate of fish embroiled in a gusset or fliffs in sauce du malison. Next was the flagrant lobsterine or sautéed celeriosis - for the more discerning. The main course was more traditional, consisting of roast puffball stuffed with winglets and walnuts or grandeur of seared buttock in a spiced wine reduction, all accompanied by seasonal vegetables. For dessert, a carbonised soufflé of pamparedmousse or, for those on a diet, opulent harlequinade of fruit jellies. Afterwards, a selection of pampered cheeses and succulent fruitlets were offered. And to finish, a selection of coffees and liqueurs, accompanied by sweet cups and petit fours encrusted with tiny gemstone flecks...

After which various speeches were endured.

Gravel Retrench began: “Thanks to our wise and incredibly magnificent supreme director, without whom there would be no future for the museum. He, and he alone had the vision to see this project through to its glorious conclusion, blah blah blah...”

At the same time, Baron Outburst was bursting out. The Baron wheezed as his stomach struggled to accommodate the vast quantity of food he had consumed. His partially bald head glistened with moisture as he pulled on the silken tablecloth, fighting for air, his face a shade of plum with quivery breathlessness. Yet after much struggling he still managed to gain a bit more space to drink the last few drops of wine. To help the food go down, you understand.

As the liqueurs were being served, a member of the catering staff winked at Mrs Pork-Rind again. He was tall.

Dr Travinion Wingnut had watched Pork-Rind fill his face all evening. How he had wished the director had choked on the seared buttock as his ruddy porcine cheeks masticated this way and that, through the charred exterior to the barely cooked interior, meaty juices oozing from every bite. All it would have taken was one tiny morsel of food lodging at the back of his throat. Yes, that would have been enough to block his airway. Wingnut chuckled to himself as he imagined Pork-Rind fighting for breath...

Meanwhile, Dr Pork-Rind was imagining himself being conferred a Knight of the Realm for his achievement. He would soon be giving his greatest speech to date as he sipped the last drop of his liqueur. Only he did feel somewhat queasy...

Sneerpot and Scarletina were giggling over someone’s idea of an evening gown, when they heard a distant echo that sounded more or less like a grunt, coming from the newly gilded toilets. Actually, it was more like the sound of someone in excruciating agony. In any case, it was decided they ought to investigate, as that was part of their job, after all.

Supreme Director Hector Pork-Rind was very definitely dead...

[tieback]

Transform Your Space with Elegant Tie Backs for Curtains

When it comes to home décor, the details matter. One often overlooked yet impactful accessory is the tie back for curtains. These small additions can make a significant difference in the overall look and feel of a room. Whether you're aiming for a classic, modern, rustic, or nautical theme, tie backs provide both aesthetic appeal and functional benefits. Let's explore the various aspects of tie backs for curtains and how they can enhance your living space.

What Are Tie Backs for Curtains?

Tie backs are decorative and functional elements used to hold curtains open. They come in a variety of styles, materials, and designs, allowing you to customize the look of your window treatments. By keeping curtains neatly pulled to the side, tie backs allow natural light to flood into the room, creating a brighter and more inviting atmosphere.

Materials and Styles

1. Fabric Tie Backs: Fabric tie backs are versatile and can be made from the same material as your curtains or a contrasting one. Common fabrics include cotton, silk, velvet, and linen. These soft and flexible tie backs can add a touch of elegance and cohesiveness to your window treatments.

2. Rope Tie Backs: Rope tie backs are perfect for adding a rustic or nautical charm to your space. Often braided or twisted, they can be plain or adorned with decorative elements like tassels or knots. Rope tie backs are durable and bring a cozy, countryside feel to any room.

3. Metal Tie Backs: For a sleek and elegant look, metal tie backs are an excellent choice. Available in brass, iron, and stainless steel, these tie backs offer a sturdy solution that complements modern and traditional décors alike. They come in various shapes and finishes, adding a touch of sophistication.

4. Wood Tie Backs: Wooden tie backs provide a natural and earthy feel, making them ideal for rustic or nature-inspired interiors. They are available in different stains and carvings, allowing you to choose a design that best suits your room's theme.

5. Beaded Tie Backs: Beaded tie backs are perfect for adding a touch of sparkle and glamour. Made from glass, crystal, or acrylic beads, these tie backs can range from simple to intricate designs, suitable for both casual and formal settings.

Functional Benefits

Aesthetic Enhancement: Tie backs add a decorative element to your curtains, enhancing the overall look of your room. They can complement your existing décor and bring a polished, finished touch to your window treatments.

Light Control: By holding curtains open, tie backs allow natural light to enter the room, creating a brighter and more welcoming atmosphere. This is especially beneficial in rooms that require ample daylight, such as living rooms and kitchens.

Space Optimization: Keeping curtains neatly pulled to the side with tie backs can make a room feel more spacious and organized. It prevents curtains from obstructing walkways and maximizes the use of space.

Versatility: Tie backs are easy to adjust or remove, offering flexibility in how you display your curtains. This allows you to change the look of your window treatments without the need for permanent fixtures.

Installation Methods

Hooks: Most tie backs are used with hooks installed on the wall. The tie back wraps around the curtain and hooks onto the wall fixture, providing a secure hold.

Magnetic: Magnetic tie backs clip around the curtain without the need for wall installation, making them easy to use and reposition as needed.

Loop: Some tie backs feature loops that simply slip over the curtain, offering a quick and temporary solution.

Care and Maintenance

Fabric Tie Backs: Typically machine washable or can be spot cleaned, depending on the fabric type.

Metal and Wooden Tie Backs: Wipe with a damp cloth and dry thoroughly to prevent rust or damage.

Beaded Tie Backs: Clean gently with a soft cloth to avoid damaging the beads.

Choosing the Right Tie Backs

When selecting tie backs for your curtains, consider the following factors:

Match with Curtains: Choose tie backs that complement the color, pattern, and style of your curtains.

Room Décor: Ensure the tie backs align with the overall theme and décor of the room.

Functional Needs: Think about how often you’ll adjust the curtains and select tie backs that offer the necessary ease of use.

Conclusion

Tie backs for curtains are a small yet impactful accessory that can enhance both the functionality and aesthetic of your window treatments. With a wide variety of styles, materials, and designs available, there is a perfect tie back for every curtain and room décor. Whether you're looking to add a touch of elegance, control natural light, or create a more organized space, tie backs are a simple and effective solution. Explore the possibilities and transform your living space with the perfect tie backs for your curtains.

[theblueiron]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Decorative Magnetic Curtain Clips (2pack).

[andreacookinteriors]

Website: https://www.andreacookinteriors.com/

Address: LA9 7FG, Kendal, UK

Andrea Cook Interiors was founded in 2015, with the aim of creating a range of high quality and unique handmade products, that are unlike anything you will find in any local shop. Our range of curtain tiebacks has grown considerably since then, as has the popularity of the products themselves. We now offer a wide range of curtain tiebacks, from a superb selection of quality ropes.

Since the Summer of 2020 we now create and sell a range of bathroom accessories made from beautiful, high quality ropes. Our new collection also includes macrames and unique handmade art. Everything is made with time and care by us.

We ship our products all over the world. Our items are individually created by hand to a high standard, and carefully packaged for you. They will add a noticeable addition to any room in your home, and add that finishing touch to your home decor.

Business E-mail: andreacookinteriors@gmail.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AndreaCookInteriors

Twitter: https://twitter.com/acookinteriors

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/ACookInteriors/

Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/AndreaCookInteriors

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[shibaraki]

being the after school tutor for eri…meeting single father aizawa fresh out the office for the first time…the stubble the square glasses… good god

you are hired by Eri's adoptive father, Aizawa Shouta, after she turns seven years old. at first she's timid and polite, her eyes are drawn to your every reaction as if she were bracing herself. you'd been forewarned of her traumatic background and following extensive assessment, it'd been determined that her learning levels were understandably behind what's expected of her age.

Eri knows day from night, but she cannot read a clock. she can sound out words but struggles to read complete sentences. she can slowly count to ten but she cannot jump rope and struggles with asserting herself to adults and children alike. she soon takes a shine to you, something you allowed yourself to soak in to a professional degree. you were proud to have made her feel safe with you after such a short amount of time — especially with the knowledge that you were the fifth attempt at finding her a suitable tutor.

her father is another matter entirely.

Aizawa knows how to walk without making a sound. he knows all the spots in his home that creak and he deftly avoids them to quietly observe your interactions with his daughter. you don't hear him but you can feel his weighted stare on your back, equal parts unnerving and thrilling. you cast him a sidelong glance once Eri finishes her worksheet and his expression doesn't waver. deep in the pit of your belly, the sediment stirs. his approval was just as important as his daughters, and you hoped you'd earned it.

in hospitable fashion, he walks you to the door with Eri close at his heels. he is undoubtedly handsome; broad and built beneath his fitted work shirt, square framed glasses low on the bridge of his nose and overnight stubble shadowing his jaw. he pushes the hair loosely curtaining his face back, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbow as he then reaches to loosen the tie around his neck.

his eyes rake along the length of your body when you bow forward to extend your arm, fingers wrapping gently around Eri's in a courteous handshake. you supress the urge to look at him again. “I had a wonderful time with you today, Eri. I'm looking forward to teaching you”.

her smile is trembling as it bites into her cheeks. “Thank you teacher. I'll be happy if— if you come back,” she says, leaning into her fathers thigh. his own hand, large and rugged where it cradles her crown, lifts towards you to offer a handshake of his own.

straightening your back, you accept it with breath held. it is firm but not authoritative, not an attempt at asserting his position over you. it's testing, a subtle toeing of the line right where his finger grazes the delicate skin of your inner wrist. “I hope to see you again too,” he says.

you exhale through the magnetism and squeeze his palm to steel yourself. his eyes brighten slightly and you know it pleases him. “There's nothing I'd like more,” you reply.

[erodasfishtacos]

hii! i love your ceo harry universe so much! i was wondering how one of the incidents that was mentioned before when a worker talks back to him ?

here’s to hold you over while im working on the next one shot :)

warning: harry is an asshole to everyone but his baby and wife, language, breastfeeding.

---

Well let's just start off by saying that there have been tons of instances where there was a disgruntled employee. Heres one.

It was six in the morning and Harry was supposed to be out of the house thirty minutes ago.

As soon as he'd stepped out from the closet that held his suits and professional attire, he had heard a squeak from the baby monitor mounted to the wall.

He steps over to see his little seven month old daughter wriggling around unhappily in her crib, kicking out her chunky legs with a pinched expression.

The smacking of her pouty lips telling everyone that she was hungry.

Harry looks over to his sleeping wife, who was on her stomach with her face buried into the side of her pillow. Her feet were peeking out from under the comforter and she was peaceful.

There's no way he would wake her, his job can always wait, he's is own boss for fuck's sake. That has him trailing into the dim nursery, sun barely peeking through the closed curtains.

"Oh, bub," Harry hums, hearing short, irritated whimpers from his demanding daughter. Just like her daddy. Wanted what she wanted, when she wanted it.

When Ivy hears her father's voice, she's gripping the railing to pull herself to sit up. Her displeased babbling begins between huffs of breathe, telling him all her complaints.

"I know, m'sorry. Daddy's s'mean," Harry coos when he picked her up and pops her onto his hip. She was a little space heater in her flower covered white onesie. ***

Ivy pats happily at her father's chest as he takes her down into the kitchen, keeping herself entertained by tugging at the collar of his dress shirt and trying to pull the decorative hankerchief out of his breast-pocket.

Harry goes about heating up a pouch of breastmilk in the bottle heater while humming to his daughter with soft kisses on her silky little curls.

He hisses when he pulls it back, goes to test it, and it drips onto his grey suit jacket. A splotch of breastmilk, the joys. He didn't have time to change, didn't really have time for any of this logistically.

Then Harry's trying to convince his picky daughter to take the bottle between her lips but she's refusing, letting out a wail and pushing it back towards him.

"Little love, know y'hungry," Harry murmurs, bouncing her on his hips in a soothing moment, "Need y'to eat f'me."

Then she's full on crying because Harry knows exactly what she wants, "You can't have it from your mumma right now. She's sleepin', we need to be nice, yeah?"

Harry swears his wife must have an extra sense for her daughter because she's stepping into the kitchen in just a tank top and pair of panties.

Ivy's cries pick up and she twists for her mum when she sees her. Y/N obliges and slips her out of Harry's arms before cradling her into the crook of her elbow.

She's tugging off the shoulder of her top and guiding Ivy until she's latched and goes completely quiet, eyes already lidded and heavy as she feeds.

Harry grunts, leaning in to give his wife a goodbye kiss, "Can't blame her, y'tits are amazing."

Y/N rolls her eyes at him but they soften when Harry reaches down to kiss his daughter's head.

"Don't be too late," Y/N asks, sleep still thick in her throat.

"Never, be home as soon as I can, my love," Harry assures her before stepping out.

He had a magnetic pull, it took strength and effort to be away from his two ladies for any amount of time. It made working that much harder, a struggle he'd never dealt with before.

--

It has him already in a sour mood when he steps into the conference room and one of his employees makes a comment under his breath to the person next to him.

"So we can't even be a minute late but he can be twenty, that makes sense."

Harry is usually never in the mood for bullshit. 

But he was especially not in the mood for it today. He wanted to be home with his sleepy wife and baby. Let her sleep and take care of Ivy.

"It actually does make sense, Todd. It makes sense because I'm the fuckin' boss," Harry replies with a sharp edge, slamming his briefcase onto the oak table loudly.

"Shouldn't you be setting an example for everyone?" He shoots back, not sure where the courage had been building from but everyone else is giving him bewildered looks.

Harry barks out a rude laugh, "I need to set an example of being punctual to grown arsed adults? Do I need to show you how to fuckin' tie your shoes too?"

Todd grimaces, “No. I’m just saying...it’s good to do that.”

“I am setting a good example, I’m a fuckin’ self-made billionarie. Is that not a great example to set?” Harry asks with a raised eyebrow.

 It was crazy how intimidating he could be with a stain of breastmilk on his suit.

The employee doesn’t know what else to say, awkwardly he looks down at his hands in surrender to the man who was still standing in front of his chair instead of sitting.

“Now,” Harry cuts through the tension, “I believe you had a report for me.”

He was quite surprised his boss didn’t fire him right then and there. He’d fired people for a lot less than what he just did.

Todd did indeed have a report for him. It had taken him three months to finish the project. He’d put his blood, sweat, and tears into this three-hundred page report with analysis, graphs, and charts.

He slides the fat stack of paper towards Harry, ‘A Summary of June Sales in All Corporate Offices’.

Harry takes on look at it and smirks at the man, “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I think I’d like a summary for July instead of June. Get back to work on it.”

Todd and the rest of the workers look with flabergasted expression, they all knew how long this took to complete. 

So when Harry picks up the packet, carelessly tosses it in the trash bin, and walks out - well everyone is a bit in shock for a moment.

---

[randomrosewrites]

At the break of dawn

Pairing: Diluc x GN reader Summary: Diluc returns late - very late - from his vigilante duties one day, exhausted and worn out. At the break of dawn, he crawls back into your loving embrace. Words: ~1K Warnings/ tags: Fluff, comfort, Diluc getting affection he deserves TM, kaeya makes an appearance.

A/n: *shakes bags of treats* diluc simps come get your food. (It's been a while since I wrote anything, apologies for the roughness of this. Just a little idea that's been worming its way into my mind.)

You’re awoken by the dim, blue light, filtering in through the curtains. Morning has arrived, but the sun has not yet risen, the window wet with condensation.

You can immediately tell that no one’s in the bed from the lack of warmth, but for good measure, you crane your neck - wincing at the ache you feel; you slept on it funny - to confirm. Feeling along the bed, you’re only met with cold, undisturbed sheets.

He’s late. Very late coming home.

You stretch out on the plush bed like a cat, working out your aching muscles. Swinging your legs over the side, you slide off the bed, wrapping a nightgown around your body. The manor is quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood or the faint tick of the grandfather clock. You tip-toe out of your bedroom and down the hall with careful steps, not wanting to disturb the tranquil atmosphere. No signs of the person you’re searching for - he really didn’t come home last night. How unusual.

On the first floor, you poke your head into the kitchen, nearly scaring the staff half to death. A few maids and cooks who’ve - by the looks of their half-done-up uniforms - have just arrived. They all rush to fix their uniforms, not wanting to be caught in an unprofessional state.

“M-master…” one of them murmurs your name. “We were just about to get started on your morning breakfast. It will be ready shortly.”

“No rush,” you reassure them. “It’s still early, take your time.”

With a chorus of “thank you’s”, you leave them to get to work, treading over to the living room.

It’s tidy, as is everything in the manor. Adeline - the head maid - personally sees to that. Yet you can tell there’s a struggle between her and her employer. The desk by the window is cluttered with papers, accounts, bills, receipts, and all the like in an organized mess, stacked several inches high. Your partner always liked overseeing everything himself, even if it usually ended with him exhausted beyond measure. The papers on his desk are unorganized, left behind after he went out for his nightly duties and never returned to put them away.

You adjust a paperweight on the stacks so they don’t scatter before leaving the desk to curl up on the couch by the fireplace. Pulling a blanket over you, you open a book and begin reading.

The maids come from the kitchen ten minutes later, wheeling in a cart of delicacies and tea. They spoil you at the winery, heavily. Your partner’s wealth ensures you have anything you’d ever need and more. (Though rich or not, you know he would always spoil you.)

“Anything within my power that I can grant you will be granted,” he’d told you, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckle. “You’re precious to me.”

In response, you’d hold him how equally precious he was to you.

Just as your morning tea is being poured, the front door opens with a bang, startling the maid so much she nearly drops the pot.

A tall, hooded figure stands in the doorway, adorned in black clothing. Red-rimmed gloves lift to tug his cloak from his face, and you can’t help the way your stomach flutters nor the way you break out into a smile.

“Good morning, Diluc.”

Diluc Ragnvindr shuffles into the manor, handing off his cloak to the maid and rubbing his shoes against the entrance rug. “ Good morning.”

He looks and sounds exhausted. His shoulders sag as he rests his claymore against the wall before sluggish shuffling over to you on the couch. His eyes are half-lidded, weighed down by fatigue. His hair is a mess as well, it snags on the tassels of his coat as he tries to remove it, earning a mumbled curse from him.

“Busy night?” you inquire, taking the coat from him and laying it over the arm of the couch.

“Very,” he sighs, exasperation seeping into his voice. He kicks his boots off and collapses onto the couch, undoing the ruby crystal at his tie.

You raise a hand to cover his. “Allow me.”

Diluc complies, letting your careful fingers undo his tie. You place the item on the coffee table and scoot over, patting the spot beside you.

“Lay down, darling.”

Diluc is drawn to you like a magnet, body seeking to press up against yours. You pull him into your arms and lay down on the couch together. He sighs deeply as he buries his face into your chest, pressing his ear right over your heart. His arms loop around your torso and his legs intertwine with yours. Snug. Warm.

You card your fingers through his hair, tugging at the elastic holding his crimson locks back until it unravels. Diluc’s hair pools around you, silky, long, and with a hint of smoke.

“Thank you…” he mumbles, so quiet you almost miss it. You don’t miss the affection soaking his words.

You press a kiss atop his head, petting down his hair. “You’re welcome.”

He’s asleep almost instantly in your arms. His breathing steadies and the tension leaves his body as he sinks into you. Your hand remains at his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Diluc’s very warm, and with his body heat, the blanket, and the fire in the hearth, you feel your eyes begin to close, too.

You’re almost asleep yourself when there’s a sharp knock at the front door. It swings open before a maid can get to it and a familiar head of blue hair pops in.

“Good morni- oh Arcons.”

You put a finger to your lips as Kaeya carefully shuts the door behind him, a mix of disbelief, amusement, and joy plastered on his face.

“Quiet, you’ll wake him.”

“Is he sleeping? Oh my god, look at him.”

“Kaeya,” you repeat, fighting off a laugh. “Hush. Let him sleep.”

Kaeya creeps closer, craning his neck like a peacock to get a better view of Diluc. “I wish I had one of those kamera things. I’m never gonna let him live this down. He looks like a little lamb when he sleeps.”

“What do you need, Kaeya?”

He waves a small stack of papers in his hands. “For sleeping beauty, from Jean,” he places the stack of papers on the coffee table with a wink. “Enjoy your morning, I’ve leave both of you to it.”

He leaves as quickly as he comes, slipping out through the front door with a flourish of his cape.

“A nuisance, as always…” grumbles a sleepy voice, making you jump.

“Did we wake you? Sorry.”

“Not you…” Diluc mumbles, shifting in your arm. “Kaeya’s always...loud…”

You can hear the adorable pout in his voice.You rub his back soothingly. “He’s gone now get some rest,” and because you can’t help it, you add, “Sleeping beauty.”

The noise Diluc makes is enough to make you laugh, pressing a kiss against the top of his head in apology.

[worminstuff]

Seethe pt.2

c!techno x reader

tw!!!! manipulation!

warnings: fluffy angsty, degrading (not in a sexual way)

word count: 1.4k

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Apricity, the word to describe the warmth of the sun in the winter. The new home y/n and Techno shared was much colder than their past homes. Techno didn't mind, not that he'd let her know if he did. y/n on the other hand, wasn't exactly fond of it. She found herself often stealing his big heavy capes so she could sit by the fire just when the sun was perfectly casting a warm glow into their little home.

y/n was on house arrest. She wasn't even allowed outside. Worst of all, Techno had been gone on a trip for two days now, he was supposed to be back soon but that doesnt mean y/n was any less irritated.

y/n glowered at the little bits of dust floating through the sunlight in front of her, a huge red velvet cape draped across her shoulders, and another one under her as she sat criss cross.

She was angry, so he would be washing that one himself.

Before she could dive deeper into the angry thoughts, the sound of clunky boots on the steps outside the door caught her attention.

The front door flew open with no heist, y/n held in a flinch.

Techno locked eyes with the small gremlin on the floor in front of him. First, he noticed that every single set of curtains had been opened, then he noticed how she was sitting a bit too close to the fire, then he finally noticed,

“Are those my-”

y/n cut him off, “no.” she pulled the soft fabric around her more.

Techno sighed. He closed the door then pulled his own jacket and cape from his shoulders to hang.

Once he'd also removed his boots and his gloves, and the rest of his fancy stuff, he was only in his brown pants and white button up. As he made his way towards the fireplace, he shook his hair out of the hair tie that had been holding it for the past day.

Techno lifted the cape from y/ns shoulders and sunk down to the floor next to her, he laid his legs out in front of him and pulled her to his side. After he decided she was in a good spot, he draped the cape over the both of them.

“You kind of smell like dirt and fire.” techno mumbled into her hair.

“Well you're old.” she huffed back.

Techno leaned away from her, his brows furrowed.

“Snappy are we?” He was testing the waters. He hated it when people sassed him or talked back. He was essentially a karen with the wrath of a demon. According to y/n anyways...

y/n did not respond, she only huffed into his chest. She was too angry to speak to him, she'd only get herself in trouble.

Techno was losing a bit of patience now, with his pointer finger and thumb he gently pinched her chin, tilting her face up to look at him.

“What's wrong with you?” his mouth barely moved, he wasn't being sincere or concerned, he was still mad.

y/n only stared at him. Her teeth were clenched almost painfully hard.

Techno leaned his face closer to hers. His eyes scanned her face before honing in on her lips. A normal person would think he was about to kiss her. These two were not normal people.

“I hope you realize now..” his voice was deathly low, an octave so low she wouldn't have heard him if it weren't for him speaking the words directly into her mouth, “you are..nothing without me.” his breath was hot and unnerving. “You can't even protect yourself.. Let alone Ranboo. You need me. You need me so much that you're lost even in your own home when i'm not here with you.”

Tears were willing their way into y/n's eyes already. Techno adored how she looked so broken. So weak. He loved when she was at his will.

“You are powerless. You are stupid. You are a baby bird with its wings cut off.” he held up his free hand, making his hand look like scissors with his middle and pointer fingers.

“You..” he placed a soft kiss to y/ns nose, “are..” he kissed her left cheek, “nothing.” then her right cheek.

He then brushed a tear from below her eye, holding back the grin that was attempting to punch its way through.

He smiled now. Hoping to comfort her, but her eyes only welled up more. He wanted to lull his head to the side and stare at her gorgeous eyes as they got more and more glassy as tears just overfilled her bottom lash line.

Techno hated when y/n was hurt, and if it had been anyone else that made her cry they would have one single breath before they themselves had the inability to cry. But when it was him?..he could only stare.

“You want to be strong don't you, y/n?” he asked her, his voice below a whisper.

“I am strong.” y/n's voice was hoarse against her steal words.

“Then why on earth are you crying? A bit pathetic don't you think?” he wiped another cluster of tears from her eyes as he looked to the fire behind her.

y/n hated to let him get to her this way. She doesn't often..but she couldn't help it right now. y/n pushed his hands away and slid her own around his waist, digging herself deeper into his scent and warmth.

Techno sighed and drew shapes in her back under the cape with his nails, the whispers whirling through his mind.

Nothing. Worthless. She's weak. She's weighing you down. She's nothing. Broken. Tears. Pretty tears. Look like glass. Break the bird.

He stopped listening for a moment as he looked down.

If Phil was here he would've never let Techno talk to her that way. He would have scolded him or told him off in some way. This thought angered Techno. He was fond of Phil but Phil has tried to take y/n under his wing. He acted almost as a father to her.

Techno really did like Phil, but y/n didn't need phil. She needed him. Only him. He wanted her to remember that. She had to remember that.

Even as much as it hurt him a tad to hurt her so much. It'll be worth it. He just had to keep reminding himself that.

“Are you hungry, bird?” he mumbled, his hand now softly running up and down her back.

y/n shuttered. She was hungry, but she didn't feel like eating.

“No..but thank you.” she mumbled back.

Techno hummed in response. Hed make her something soon anyways, but he'd sit with her just a bit longer.

He would never admit how much he loved to have y/n in his arms. Techno is large, Not so much in body mass as he is in height, but he's not lacking in body mass either. He was lanky but strong. It was perfect for him to be able to practically wrap himself around her entirely.

Technos mind was wondering as he stared at the fireplace.

The fire in front of him was causing beads of sweat on his forehead, he didn't understand how y/n loved sitting this closely.

It began about back when him and y/n were staying in the underground ravine of Pogtopia. y/n loved how warm it would get even though they were so below the surface, she would sit by the many fireplaces in Pogtopia often.

He thought back to all the effort they both put into Pogtopia, grinding away for the others. y/n was an incredibly hard worker, she was loyal, and kind, and she listened to directions very well. He admired these things greatly. y/n is insanely sweet though, which was something he's never understood. She was kind to everyone in every situation she could be, she was a magnet for friends. She was charismatic and held so much sympathy for others. She was his opposite.

He adored her kind spirit, he adored her so much he wanted her all to himself.

Once he grew older with her, his feelings that were similar to a possessive friend became so much more.

She was his little bird, and he'd break her wings just to keep her on the ground with him.