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lacollectionneuse1967 · 8 months ago

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remembering you - bonus chapter

Theseus Scamander x Reader

summary: theseus comes to your rescue after you've had too much to drink, but will he be able to resist your drunken advances?

fem!reader. theseus x reader.

category: smut

warnings: 18+ smut scene. drunkenness. dirty talk. unprotected penetration. light mdom/fsub.

author's note: wasn't going to continue with this fic, but i made this "bonus chapter." it's more of a smutty resolution than a full-fledged chapter, no plot all vibes--hope you all enjoy!

part one / part two / bonus chapter

The realization of love feels fatal, plummets and plants itself at the bottom of your stomach like some small death. Your heart pounds dreadfully, like you’re in danger. The soar and the swoop.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

Theseus. Loves. Me.

It shatters your mind. You shuffle around in the shards to formulate sentences to offer up to Mr. Bragg’s probing, you tell yourself to blink. To focus.

Mr. Bragg had shuffled you into his quiet office with a shaking anticipation, but asked you only silly, useless questions once alone. He was less talkative than you’d expected. Less forward.

It’s dim in his office. Impractically so. Only an oil lamp squats in the far corner, blooming dead orange light into the cigar-perfumed room.

The bronze hinges on his display cabinet and the dull gold knobs and hardware on all his other furniture glint, dark rays of light. Yes, the dark winks at you in this way. He’s seated far across the room. You can’t see him well, he’s half-swallowed in a cushy upholstered chair opposite yours.

“Might we turn on another lamp, sir?” You can’t see and you want to look around. You try not to shuffle in your seat.

“No, no, I can see you just fine.”

You burn with something, you don’t know what.

It’s not the general air of discomfort that’s bothering you, it’s the void, that gap of misunderstanding that you now feel between you and this man. Who is this man, really?

You’d always dismissed Mr. Bragg as a bumbling, meat-fisted man. Sweat on his brow, voice booming through the Atrium most days, spittle flying. Heavy-handed and obvious in his jokemaking and friend-making and all other matters.

You don’t know why the wet shine of his teeth in the dark now reminds you of a wolf. Could he really be what they think he is? You search for any sign of Grindelwald, of extremism or betrayal on his face, but you see only darkness and the barest outlines of his features–eyes, mouth, nose–buried in that.

“Whisky?” He smiles. You can’t see the whites of his eyes.

“What about it?”

“Ha!” It’s a dead noise in his throat. A huff. “Funny. Go on, girl. You’re allowed.”

He pours two inches of whisky into a thick French glass and has to stand to hand it to you.

You drink and try not to make a face. Crude drink, whisky. He stares unblinkingly at your throat as you swallow it, assessingly. When he stands and pours you another, you don’t protest. You gulp it down and speak quickly.

“Mr. Bragg, can I ask, how long have you been this department’s head?”

“Are you enjoying your whisky?”

“Well, yes–Mr. Bragg I was just wondering how you’re-”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re enjoying it very much. You know Mr. Martin–Paul Martin from the Courts–he could down one of my bottles in, say, half an hour?”

You breathe out a laugh and hope you don’t sound exasperated. This is going to be hard. He’s making it hard for you, and you don’t know why.

“Well, I don’t believe that, Mr. Bragg.”

Paul Martin. A Ministry judge. Your mouth works faster than your mind. The whisky sears something like acid in your stomach.

“Mr. Martin joined us around the same time you did, isn’t that right?”

A good quarter of Ministry workers had inexplicably quit sometime before last New Year. The new hires seemed to come out of thin air. You never thought of it as sinister before tonight.

The corner of Mr. Bragg’s mouth twitched. That was the wrong thing to say. You should’ve kept your cards close. The man across from you doesn’t move at all, but in your mind the alarm bells are screeching. You can’t tell if it’s just dark in the room or if the edges of your vision are smudging. Soft black curtains.

“And what is it exactly that you wanted to speak with me about, Miss Y/L/N?”

—----------------

“So, how did you do it?”

Theseus jerks irritably at the sound of Yuta’s voice to see who it is and then, once confirmed, goes back to ignoring him.

He’s still staring at the blank column of space between the pillars where you’d disappeared with the detestable Mr. Bragg, mouthing “sorry!” with this look of sweet apology on your face. Sweet. Everything you did was sweet to him.

“Is it a secret? Bastard really won’t tell us.” George Ambani Kotak slings an arm around Yuta’s shoulders and delivers his line with a mischievous lilt. There’s a bit of stray confetti on his shoulder that strangely suits him–unkempt hair, ill-fitting suit and all.

George and Yuta are the youngest Aurors in the department. Always poking fun at Theseus because they know that he was once the youngest Auror, and they know he usually likes their spirit of boyish rebellion. Keyword: Usually.

“What are you two going on about?” Theseus humors them with his attention, turning away from the space you left at last. He doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel good. It’s not about your unsaid response, he could give a damn if you loved him back. He loves you so absolutely he doesn’t want anything in return. No, it’s something else and he needs to be with you again to make it feel better.

“You think we’re pesky, don’t you?” Yuta whines in mock accusation. The young Hufflepuff has a teasing manner about him that’s almost effeminate.

“That’s because Theseus only likes hanging out with old men. Going down to the pub and talking about footy and the weather.”

“Piss off, George,” Theseus bites. He can’t quite suppress his smile. They make him feel young and old at the same time.

The Armistice ceremony is over and discordant, broken streams of people are trickling out of the Atrium now, emerging from beneath pillars and around corners, sweaty and celebratory with relief, as if at the end of a concert or performance. Mourning and remembering were a sort of duty to be carried out, too. Theseus can understand that.

When he thinks about your reticent angling away from him in the alcove, then your quiet omission, “I just wish that you would’ve remembered me,” he wants to shoot himself. Dramatics, yes, but the thought of letting you down felt worse than anything, was a shotgun blow to the chest in of itself.

“Y/N fucking Y/L/N,” George groans. “How did you do it, man? I mean, actually, what did you do?!”

“You sly fox,” Yuta mutters in agreement.

Theseus frowns at Yuta then, taken aback, understanding the exchange at last.

“Do you fancy Y/N or something?” He still feels at a loss. They must have seen him talking to you earlier.

George looks at Theseus like he’s stupid. Then again, George looks at everyone like they’re stupid. Not a Ravenclaw thing, Theseus doesn’t like stereotypes, just a George thing.

“Everyone likes Y/N, are you kidding me? But the girl is impenetrable.”

“Office siren,” Yuta chirps in.

“According to Ana, half the sports and games department has been trying to get at her all month. We came to the conclusion that she’s probably secretly engaged. Or maybe it’s an Unspeakable thing, who knows? Oh, Merlin, Rawlings is going to be fuming when he finds out about this, he’s been trying to chat her up at lunch for weeks–”

“So what’s your deal anyway? You and her?” Yuta interrupts, physically putting up a hand to silence George. George blinks at the appendage in offense.

Theseus is stunned anew. Flustered, even.

“She… She’s just my friend,” he says firmly. Defensively, maybe. “I care about her a lot.”

There’s a beat before the two boys react. Theseus wants to give you the space to respond to his confession, to define this, before involving anyone else. He hopes Yuta and George can sense that. Or at least sense his protectiveness and uncertainty.

“But why you?!” Yuta grimaces at last.

George bellows at that, heartily. “Oh, Yuta, young Romeo, you had your chance back when-”

Theseus drones out the two’s bickering, but the sound of it makes him inexplicably happy. The unease in his ribcage dissipates and lifts, though not completely. Theseus feels proud to love you. Grateful that, by some miracle, you let him.

He doesn’t care about any meeting you might have. He’s coming to see you, now.

The conviction thumps in his chest like a second heart.

He turns to leave without a farewell.

—-------------

‘This is good,’ you’d told yourself courageously after the first swooning burn of drunkenness sailed through your body, hard and fast and seeping. ‘I feel more confident to ask him what I need to. I’m not unsettled anymore.’

But there was no coherent justification anymore. You were piteously, dangerously drunk.

All you could do was sway upright in the chair and try to aim your gaze towards that warm spot in the dark you were sure concealed his figure.

Oh, god, he was talking about something. You hadn’t noticed, hoped he wasn’t asking you anything.

“-girl like you, no?”

The clipped end of his sentence did nothing for you. You feel sick, want to keel over and hold your head between your knees until the room stops moving. Your skin is buzzing. Living takes on a liquid quality, you feel like you are slipping warmly and smoothly from one moment to the next.

“What? Sorry.”

The dark shape of Mr. Bragg moves then, solidifies as he comes to sit next to you.

“Oh, ho!” He tuts. “Can’t handle your drink, Y/L/N?”

You squint up at him.

In truth, no. This is more than you can handle, and you didn’t really drink to begin with aside from the rare glass of wine paired with dinner.

“It’s…” your retort trails off, you can’t remember why you’d opened your mouth in the first place.

You feel yourself careen towards his thigh, his lap, he is seated on the arm of your big chair now. You slump against him pitifully. You are hardly there. You don’t know if it’s natural, the sharp decline from bubbly and light and talkative to this–sleep. Losing control of your limbs.

Oh, god. Fuck.

Some fucking investigation. You don’t know what would be worse, if he were really betraying the Ministry, an enemy agent, or if he just wanted to take advantage of you.

“M’sorry,” you slur against him and strain to raise yourself back up, unsuccessfully. Everything tastes bad. Even the air that rushes out of your nostrils when you exhale is pricked with the astringent sweet-rot of alcohol. Bitter and syrupy.

You want to jolt up at the feel of his hand on your back, petting you almost, but you can only manage a low judder. You don’t know how long it’s been or what time it is, but you’re going to pass out, you realize, and Mr. Bragg is touching you.

“Don’t,” you hiss, with sudden clarity. “Don’t touch me-”

The bang bang of his office door being knocked on isn’t even enough to raise you. You’re slumped over the side of the chair. Mr. Bragg, however, stands, alertly.

“Not now!” He shouts.

Every second that passes you feel yourself slip away. Light and sound comes and goes. You’re going to be sick.

The doorknob clatters against its own deadbolt.

“I said not now–”

The door clicks and crashes open, magicked unlocked no doubt.

You can only make out Mr. Bragg’s outline. He’s standing, his body conveniently angled in a feeble attempt to block you from the intruder’s view. You don’t need to see to know who it is.

You’re too fucked to smile.

Theseus just stares. Seethes. Burns, not like paper being eaten up, but without end.

“I cans–you have to-” Your nonsensical, drunken slur is enough to break his stillness.

“What’s going on here?!”

Something bridles and puffs up in Mr. Bragg, he clenches his fists and goes red in the face.

“You have no right to-”

Theseus pushes him to the floor with a single hard shove. Mr. Bragg topples over like a beetle.

He doesn’t care about him. He’s an Auror, he’ll deal with Bragg later.

You feel his hands on you, your body sings with affection. He’s trying to help you up by the arm but you’re trying to fall into him.

“Sweetheart, try and stand up,” he says, voice hushed and insistent. He seems like a real Auror now, authoritative and caring. “I think he put something in your cup.”

Your head lolls but you try to obey and make yourself helpful. Fuck, it’s hard. You thought it would help, standing up, but you feel more and more inebriated by the second.

“No,” you shake your head and stumble out of the black office into humiliatingly bright light. The word comes out as a desperate moan, a heave. You feel sick again. You have to concentrate on not slurring your words. “It’s just. I-I don’t really drink, Theseus. Likeatall...”

You stare at your stumbling feet, so strange looking. How strange it is to be drunk and seeing the drab, red Ministry carpets. To be like this and at work.

Theseus is looking around, concerned at the spectacle of the two of you, at how bad it looked, maybe, you don’t know. You just want him to stop looking around and look at you instead. You need his attention, in a babylike and indulgent way. Look at me, look at me.

“Let’s go, darling,” he mutters. “I’ll take you home.”

You gather up words and intent, trying your hardest to formulate a response; it’s then that you black out completely.

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

Mercy, Theseus finds himself thinking, cursing, again. He doesn’t know how many times he’s thought this plea since you came into his life again. God, you made him think it the first night he met you, asking for a kiss, your eyes dark and bright at once, a star-shattered night.

He knows he can’t hold anything you do against you now, though. You’re truly, shockingly, appallingly and hilariously drunk. Your eyes have that sheen, so he knows you won’t remember any of it, that you’re blacked out.

“Please,” he begs you. His arms burn, though he’d never let on. A block back you’d rolled your ankle, hard on the cobblestone, so he is carrying you now, which wouldn’t be difficult if you weren’t thrashing about so much. “Y/N, please tell me where you live.”

“Why?” You cry, frowning at him. Petulant. Bratty. But sweet, sweet like everything you did. He wants to give you what you want, like always. It’s half for show, but he puts on his policeman voice to deny you.

“You’re in no state to be outside your house. I need to get you safe and home to your sister,” he explains dutifully.

The two of you had gotten enough disapproving stares from passing Muggles.

The mention of your sister does seem to jog some essential parts of your brain into sluggish action. You furrow your brow, thinking over something.

Cute.

“No, noooooo,” you whine. “My sister–oh, my landlady! They can’t see me like this, Theseus. I’ll be put out. Isn’t there some spell or-”

He shakes his head silently before realizing that you’re too drunk to notice, he has to speak aloud to get your attention.

“No, no,” he insists. “It’s too tricky a thing to remove alcohol from the bloodstream with a spell. Too dangerous. If I had a potion, maybe a bezoar elixir, I could do it, but this… It’s best to go to sleep.”

“Nooooooo,” you cry again, throwing your head back.

An old woman on the other side of the road frowns at you, openly.

“Fine! Fine,” he hisses, adjusting your flailing form in his aching arms. “I’ll take you to my flat.”

You hiccup and then start babbling indistinctly again. His face burns at the feel of you in his arms, your cheek against his chest.

This was not how he thought he’d find you today. Usually so put together all the time. So withheld and resilient.

Sedated complacency and confused, excitable thrashing seem to be your only two modes now, so this needy, talky drunkenness is something he welcomes–a middleground. Besides, half of what you mumble is nonsense.

It is worse when he can make out the nonsense. It is worse when he kicks open the door to his apartment and deposits you onto his couch.

Theseus drops down on the opposite end of the large couch, exhausted, legs spread, head thrown to the side. Carrying you all this way winded him. Nearly dislocated a shoulder.

It shocks him nearly upright when he sees you trying to crawl towards him.

“Y/N,” he grumbles. He pinches his eyes shut quickly to rid you from his vision, but it’s burned in his memory. You crawling towards him on all fours. Fucking hell.

“Go to sleep,” his eyes are still shut when he says it.

“Theseus,” you don’t sound drunk. Your lips are spit-slick. You sound sultry. Demanding. “I want.. I want-”

“See? You can’t even talk properly, love. Go to bed.” He conceals the panic well enough. He doesn’t want to deny you. If you wanna fall all over him, he wants to let you. But he knows this isn’t right, isn’t respectable.

You stop descending on him like a beautiful punishment and sit back with your legs crossed, just a cushion away from him. You don’t look or sound as drunk as you did before but he knows you are, you’d never act like this if there wasn’t alcohol in your bloodstream.

You tilt your head at him and, for him, it’s torturous.

“Okay. Come to bed with me then?” You sing-song. There’s a ditzy, woozy quality to your voice that wasn’t there before. Hadn’t ever been there. If you didn’t still smell like whisky he wouldn’t be able to resist your advances at all.

“No, no, no,” Theseus stands suddenly, speaking more to himself than you. He paces back and forth across his living room, troubled. This was insane. He shouldn’t have brought you here. He couldn’t say no to you. He knew it wasn’t within his power to.

Clothes falling off your shoulders. Looking at him all dizzy and blissed out. Pupils blown, lips wet.

You hiccup. He wants to tease you for it, but the next words out of your mouth make him choke.

“I-I wish you wore glasses,” you laugh dreamily. “I wanna make you keep them on so I can see them go all crooked when I fuck you.”

His whole body reacts. Throbs. He hisses painfully through his teeth. Tries to shut his eyes again but it’s futile. He could hate you for what you’re doing to him, actually detest you.

“Y/N, please stop talking.”

“Mmm, I thought that-”

“Stop. Talking.”

You giggle again and roll over on the couch, delighted, throwing your arms up above you.

Then, mercy, mercy, you’re trying (clumsily, unsuccessfully, what should be unsexily but it’s not to him, it’s absolutely not) to take off your clothes, pull off your top and tug off your tights. You whine in frustration when you can’t manage it.

You fall back in defeat. He can see you’re past the point of proactivity now. So long as he stays across the room he isn’t in danger. You couldn’t stumble over to him if you tried.

“Help me.” You order with a pout.

“No,” he smiles now, corner of his mouth curling, feeling confident and safe. Settles into the wooden chair at his small, square dining table and looks at you, amused. He’s still hard. “You really should listen to me, Y/N.” He says, a bit hotly.

There’s fondness, but also a sort of angry, disciplinarian edge to his tone.

“I know! I already knowwww,” you retort, grouchily despite the fact that you’re agreeing with him. Oh, the drunken mind…

He should leave. He should carry you to his bedroom and then lock you in there until you sober up or pass out. He flexes his hand at the thought. No, he doesn’t trust himself to touch you now. He hates this, not being able to touch you. He loves you and he hates it.

He’s saying the words, spitefully, before he can stop himself.

“Did you know that your voice gets all high pitched right before you come? It’s cute, actually.”

His voice is a flat line, hard and unforgiving. He’s snappy and harsh and, when you moan softly at his words, he gets up and leaves you alone in his apartment.

“I need to go on a walk. Go to sleep. Don’t move.”

The front door slams shut before you can even attempt to crawl your way over to him.

—-----------------------

You’re awake for several minutes before you can bring yourself to crack open your eyelids. It’s all pounding blackness in your head–a nightclub full of dementors. You’d laugh at the thought if everything didn’t hurt.

Your mouth tastes awful. You don’t know where you are.

“Theseus?” you mutter, rolling over in the very large, very foreign bed, opening your eyes at last.

There’s a small, purple bottle that’s labeled J. Pippin’s Hangover Remedy on the bedside table but even that makes your stomach turn. The thought of drinking any flavored liquid sends a shudder down your spine.

You sit up and force yourself to take a pitiful swig anyway and chase it with the glass of water set there for you. The more you take in the scenery–the neat, cozy room, the water and potion, the newly bought women’s clothes laid out for you at the end of the bed–the more humiliation colors your cheeks.

“Oh, no,” you whine aloud, burying your face in your hands. The last thing you remember is the Armistice ceremony and then Theseus helping you tumble out of Mr. Bragg’s dark office in a whisky-flavored haze. This had to be Theseus’s bedroom.

Which meant….

You’re only wearing your tights and a camisole. Braving the hallway in your half-undressed state, you slip into the bathroom. There’s a toothbrush there too, which you snatch up greedily, eager to rid your mouth of this foul, boozy taste. After a quick, sobering shower and five too-long minutes of scrutinizing your flushed face in the mirror you walk cautiously out into the living room. You put on one of his shirts and boxer shorts rather than the clothes he’d bought and laid out for you. Your hair is damp and dripping, but smells clean and like his soap, like him.

Through the windows, it's a cool and silver morning, the earliest light of day has that nascent, colorless quality. The dark hardwood floors of his apartment are quiet underfoot, and all things are still. Today feels new and clean and you’re hopeful he’ll forgive you.

What did you do last night? What did you say to him? You were so embarrassed, you just hoped that he’d still want you. That he wouldn't take back what he said about loving you.

Theseus looks so funny with his arm jutting out from under him, his bare legs hanging crooked over the edge of the couch. You stifle a laugh despite yourself.

It’s then, smiling at his sleeping form fondly, that you know. You’ve always felt it before, but now you know it. The certainty resting in your heart strengthens and glows.

You stand before him and tug his extended hand. He opens his eyes in innocent confusion.

“What–Y/N-”

“Come to bed with me.”

He stares up at you uncomprehendingly, gaze bleary but fond. He’s so handsome it hurts.

“Come on,” you laugh. “It’s still early. We can still sleep well.”

His oversized form on the small couch sits up. You want to run your hands through his hair, press your hands against the hard expanse of his chest and push him back down again.

“Are you sure?” He asks calmly.

“Come,” you repeat. This time when you pull him by the hand he lets you lead him.

You fall into his bed together and he brings you into him, so impossibly naturally, like muscle memory. You feel your face blush but pay it no attention, you feel so warm and safe in the cradle of his body at last.

You have to tell him. Have to tell him how you feel.

You turn to face Theseus, still cradled in his arms, but the sight of him stoppers your throat.

“I–” You make a noise like choking. There’s a bright red mark down the side of his neck. “Theseus, your neck! What happened?”

He smiles softly at your face, contented and amused.

“I’m sorry to break this to you Y/N, but you might have raked your teeth down the side of my neck last night while I was trying to carry you to my bed.”

You are undisguisably mortified. You gawk at him.

“It’s okay, Y/N!” He laughs reassuringly. “It’s fine, really. Despite you torturing me all night trying to get me to sleep with you, I stood my ground. Nothing happened.”

“Torturing you?!” Your eyes are blown wide and you can’t seem to close your mouth, except to wince. “Oh, Theseus, my behavior–I’m so humiliated, you have to forgive me–”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he says, all levity in his voice gone, only sincerity. He clasps your hands between your body and his, and you lean into the feeling.

When you still can’t look at him, red-faced and flustered, he leans forward so suddenly you nearly start back.

Theseus licks the column of your neck in a long line, punctuating it with a nip of his teeth that makes you gasp.

“There,” he leans back and smirks at his handiwork. “Got you back. You can stop being sorry for antagonizing me now.”

Your heart is pounding, blood roaring in your ears.

“Besides,” he adds, once it’s clear you’re done being mortified. “I admit that I even find your cruelty endearing. I’ve always hated meanness, but it doesn’t matter with you at all. That’s how I know I’ve been corrupted.”

You let yourself laugh at that. It’s so nice, being in bed with him. Wearing his clothes. Despite the context of how you got there, you feel at peace.

“So,” he starts. “What do you remember?”

You shake your head and purse your lips.

“Mr. Bragg’s office. I tried to question him, it was a mission of mine. He’s not what he seems, Theseus. Mr. Bragg, Mr. Martin, I don’t know who else–they’re real threats to the Ministry.”

Theseus nods solemnly, taking it in.

“Okay, what else?”

You try to remember but the night comes back in fleeting scenes and flickering sensations.

“You kept calling me sweet.” You whisper.

“That’s all then?” He doesn’t contest it.

“But I’m not sweet,” you insist, weakly. “Everyone says I’m not. I wish I was, but I’m not a sweet girl.”

“No,” Theseus grabs your hand again and rubs circles into it with his thumb. “You’re not sweet. You’re kind. It’s a stronger quality, Y/N. One with more conviction and spirit. Trust me.”

You make a face at him, one meant to inspire pity.

“I’m not sweet?”

Theseus exhales through his nose in a huff, baffled, disarmed. Of course you would focus on that part of what he said. He flicks the tip of your nose with his finger and it makes you scrunch up your face. He’s staring at you so lovingly that it makes your teeth ache.

“You taste sweet enough to me.”

And then his mouth is on yours, hot and warm and wanting. Hungrier than you thought he was. You could never gauge how much he wanted you, how badly. It took you off-guard then, the first time you met him in his office, and it shocks you now.

You’re racing to kiss him back with equal fervor. Your skin alights with pleasure every place that his skin meets yours, you come to life under those hands of his.

Will it cease, this awestruck response he elicits? You want to one day get used to Theseus, to the wonder of him in front of you, so you can think straight around him. So you can enjoy him in a measured and rational way without praying on him like a star, without the winded pleasure of disbelief.

You whine when he pulls away from your mouth, but it’s quickly silenced by the feeling of his hands sliding under your shirt and over your breasts, squeezing and massaging them. Your nipples are so sensitive that his fingertips feel almost unbearably good. Painfully good.

“You have no idea the hell you put me through last night.”

“I’m sorry,” you moan.

“I’m not.”

He takes your mouth with his again. The way he kisses you now feels like fucking in of itself, his tongue pressing in and in to your mouth, it feels like him showing what he wants to do to you.

One of his hands drops from your chest and slips under the waistline of the pair of boxers you're wearing. His shirt, his boxers.

“Gonna make me fuck you while you wear my clothes, princess?”

You don’t know how he possesses the superpower of making you blush like a schoolgirl while his hands are quite literally down your pants. The display of shyness seems futile.

He was so gentlemanly at work and in life. You didn’t know such words were capable of leaving his lips, but god they sounded good to you.

“Off,” you manage. “Take them off.”

Theseus obliges you, hands big and warm as they gently lift the hem of your shirt over your head. He helps you shimmy out of the boxer shorts too. His hands move over all that bare skin with reverence, stroking and petting and grasping.

“You’re beautiful-”

“I love you,” the words rush out at once, urgent. You need him to know, they need to be said.

He looks stunned, leans back with a jerk and stares into your eyes with scrutiny and wonder. You don’t break his gaze.

“Do you really?” He says, breathlessly.

“Yes,” and your eyes are welling with tears, you don’t know why. “I love you, Theseus.”

“God,” he groans, pressing you to him in an embrace so engulfing it makes you gasp. His hand snakes around the back of your head, his other arm wraps around your torso–a man, overcome. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

It’s different when he starts to touch you again. Slower. Devout. He stares dead into your eyes with a concentration unmatched when he slips his fingers into you at last, his own eyes heavy-lidded with sleep and lust. It takes everything in you not to look away, the look in his eyes is so burning with desire it alone could be your ruin, make you come undone.

You feel yourself pulse around him, aching and squeezing around his hand. He curls his index slightly upwards so perfectly that every fuck of his fingers, every pump has you moaning raggedly. Your whole body saying yes, yes, yes to the tempo he’s set.

But you don’t want to come like this.

You start shaking your head before you can get any words out.

He’s watching you so intently he doesn’t need any words to read you.

“What is it?” There’s no teasing to his tone anymore, no condescension. He’s all caring dedication. When he slides his fingers out they’re soaked. “You want my cock?”

You nod, feeling strangely drunk again.

He rolls his still-clothed hips against your bare, slick core experimentally and you moan loudly, inappropriately and unabashedly loudly.

It makes him smile.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. So good. What do you want, baby? How do you want me?”

You can’t even think around him, you don’t know what possesses you to say what you do.

“From the back. I want you to take me from behind.”

Theseus’s eyes flash with something dark. His lips part and for a moment you think he’s going to deny you. He did like looking at your face, watching your reactions…

But then he’s getting up onto his knees and flipping you onto your stomach, roughly. The mattress heaves beneath the two of you.

You start to get up on all fours when his hand pushes you down hard, by the small of your back. Your body presses flat into the mattress with a gasp.

“Theseus-”

He straddles your thighs with his so you can’t even spread your legs when he presses his dick into your tight hole.

You whine and moan at the sensation of being stretched open by him. You can’t move at all trapped under his weight, you can’t even lift your hips–you can just bury your head and take it. He rocks his hips experimentally and, when you moan wantonly again, he leans down, bending his body over yours to nip the back of your ear with his teeth before pounding into you.

You know he just told you he loved you but, god, he was drilling you like he hated you, hand on the back of your neck, his pace relentless, pulling out completely before slamming back into you bruisingly. Your walls try to clamp down to slow his speed but it only makes it feel better, him splitting you open from behind.

You hear him groan at the feel of your walls constricting and fluttering around him. You orgasm suddenly and with a muffled whine, wishing you could roll your hips back into the feeling, but you’re still pinned beneath him, quivering and overstimulated.

Dazed, you distantly remember last time you slept with him and cry brokenly. You don’t want that, him pulling out to come in his hand.

“Theseus, I-” you know you’re incoherent, blabbering. Face half-shoved into his pillow. “Please come inside me. I-I want to feel it when-”

“Fuck,” he hisses. The sound of your voice has him coming hard, you feel it shoot warm into your pussy. His pace slows, rocking his half-hard cock a few more times into you before pulls out with a shaky breath at last.

“Y/N,” Theseus turns you back over. His hands are searching, gentle. When he sees your expression, blissful and fucked-out, he smiles, stroking your face.

“God,” he groans, low, collapsing back down beside you. “I could stay in this bed with you forever.”

You hold onto his hand and bring it up to your mouth to kiss it, body still thrumming with pleasure.

After a while, he speaks again.

“Is.. Was that okay?” He asks, and it silences you, learns into something heavier like pain. “I just want to make sure that you’re not… inebriated anymore, not confused…”

“I was never confused,” you murmur, shaking your head softly. “I meant everything I said yesterday night, though I can’t remember what.”

You realize with a start that you have to be honest now, or you’ll cry.

“It’s bad,” you continue. “I can’t ever pretend to feel something I don’t.”

“You pretended not to know me,” Theseus whispers the words into the pillow beside your head, like he’s setting them down next to you. His voice is too gentle and fond to be an accusation, but you still feel caught, like you’re in trouble.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me anyway. And… I was scared.”

“Of what, darling?”

Darling. This man would be the death of you. You’d give him anything he asked for.

"Um," you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to ground yourself with the sharp reprimand of pain. Darling, he called you darling. "I guess, um, I was happy with how you see me now. That when I asked you to kiss me, you did this time. I didn't want to confuse you, I didn't want to do anything that might make it stop. You wanting me, I mean."

You don't feel terribly eloquent or coherent, but he's nodding encouragingly, understandingly.

He nudges your nose with his to get you to meet his eyes, and it makes you smile like you're just remembering how to. He reintroduces joy into your life like an old friend. Like a family member, it comes so naturally to him.

"I don't wanna scare you away either, Y/N. I told you I love you because I couldn't help it, the same way I touched you in my office because I couldn't help it. But I wanna make you mine in every way that I can."

You raise a brow, prompting him to clarify.

"Like what, you wanna...?" You can't finish the sentence, you need to hear him say it.

“I want to marry you, naturally.” Saying the words knocks something loose in him. The strength of his desire is deafening, like downed wine burning low in his stomach, roaring in his ears.

You laugh and he doesn’t understand or care why, he just knows the sound is angelic and smiles with stupid joy in response.

"Oh, you," you sigh. "Theseus, you could have anyone. Anyone."

You don't mean to sound so bittersweet, so distant and reminiscing. He is handsome and strong and good, without even trying, he just is. He is charismatic and confident. The whole room falls into his orbit, is pulled into his gravity when he enters.

It's not that you have nothing in common, but everything you love about him is everything that keeps him apart from you.

He shakes his head, dazed with happiness.

"There's only ever been you. It's always been you."

"I love you too," your eyes prick with tears. "I love you, Theseus. I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was, that I hid from you, that I didn't say it earlier. But I've loved you since I was a girl, even if I can't believe that you love me, I can still-"

"Y/N," he interrupts you, hushed and urgent. "I feel like it was very hard for you to love me. You seemed so conflicted and confused and pained, especially at the beginning. But, for me, loving you has been like breathing. This,” he raises your clasped hands between you. “This is easy. It’s who I am.”

When you close your eyes and drift off into a light, midday sleep, there are no clouds in the horizon of your mind, no dreams of war, only a small but glowing peace.

taglist: @hotwheelsenthusiasthic @milasmithsblog @msauthor @asyouwish-fromcabin3 @karashawsblog

#theseus scamander #fantastic beasts #theseus scamander x reader #theseus x reader #hp fanfic #fbawtft

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p1nk-b1tes · 9 months ago

Text

raw devotion

[ astarion x fem!tav fluff ]

summary: tav takes the rare opportunity of being alone with astarion to show him how much she loves him. they share a bath together. warnings: nudity, casual nudity, non-sexual intimacy, suggestive dialogue, bathing, bathing together, astarion is not used to acts of service and quality time, mild dissociation, allusions to past traumas words: 1863

click here to read on ao3 or read below:

The sun had long since hidden itself beneath the horizon when Tav had pulled her silvery-haired vampire from his bed. The book he had previously busied himself with lies open on the borrowed Elfsong mattress, forgotten, pages illuminated by the flickering flames of cream-colored candles left melting into warm, transparent pools.

The upper floor of the tavern is quiet for once. The rest of their party had gone out to explore the city after dark, offering up their coin to The Blushing Mermaid in exchange for a mug or four of cheap ale. Astarion had feigned indifference about going out, and Wyll had put on quite the show to try and sway him into joining them, dancing around on light feet and acting out how he’d make good friends with one of the drunkards stumbling around on the streets below, expertly selling him an unpredictable and unforgettable night of fun that he wouldn’t want to miss. By the end of it all, Gale had been in stitches and it had taken everything in Shadowheart to suppress her chuckle behind the back of her hand. She ultimately had failed, and Astarion had caved, and that was what had prompted Tav to fake a sudden, threatening sickness that kept them both rooted to the upper floor of the Elfsong while everyone else set out in search for the Mermaid.

The second the door had closed behind Halsin, leaving them alone in the room, he’d let out an exhale that had been trapped in his chest and thanked Tav with a lingering kiss to her temple.

—

Two pairs of bare feet pad across smooth floorboards that squeak with age, and a shorter body leads another blindly, clasped together by a hand. She leads him through the tavern’s private halls and around corners until they reach a door that is nothing short of ordinary. It’s the bathing room–a place to cleanse the body. They’ve both turned the water pink more than a handful of times before, cleansing their skin clean of their sins.

“Oh, darling,” he says, his voice silky smooth and his tongue dripping in honey. Tav reaches for the knob, twisting cool bronze in her palm and pulling him inside after her. The vampire spawn huffs through his nose, his eyes on the back of her head, and continues. “If what you wanted was to get wet then we could’ve snuck off into bed earlier…”

She chooses to pretend to not hear him.

The rich and melodic song of a flute somewhere outside floats in through the window left ajar, and Tav drops Astarion’s calloused hand, making her way towards the beautiful, hand-carved cabinet full of jars and bottles of every color and shape while he remains stuck to the floor where he entered, unsure of what is expected of him. Potions crafted carefully for the bath line the shelves when Tav pulls open the door, not for healing nor for harm like they’ve become so acquainted while weighed down by leather and metals and surrounded in the heat of battle, and the pad of her index finger glides over the faded labels while she reads.

“Astarion, my love, you’re nothing but correct. But I would’ve done so an hour ago if that was what I was up to.”

She glances over her shoulder to catch his crimson colored eyes, a blue bottle with a thin neck and curving handle clutched in her hand, and watches as his brow pulls together only slightly. His head tilts to the right and a flutter of fondness builds in her chest at the sight.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

Tav continues to gather a selection of bottles and jars, arranging them on the nearby vanity and collecting a pile of fresh towels to join them, all while the man behind her watches and makes the occasional suggestion about getting messy. The tub in the center of the room has been filled prior to their arrival and the water inside is a nice warm temperature. Tav dips her fingers into it, humming in approval and looking up to Astarion who has busied himself fiddling with the edge of his shirt. He rubs the mended hem between his fingers. Worrying the slide of the fabric back and forth between his fingers until the threads snap again and the fabric goes thin.

He looks confused and a bit unsure of what has been presented to him, but when Tav studies his features for any signs of discomfort or unease, she finds none. It’s a relief for both of them amongst the unspoken offerings being made.

Tav stares at her partner. The vampire spawn looks right back.

“Close the door, Astarion. Please?”

He breaks his gaze to find the edge of the door, pushing it the rest of the way closed until it slides snugly into its solid wood frame. Tav is still there when he returns his eyes to her. And so is the tub.

“Do you trust me?”

His eyes flick back up to meet hers, which have failed yet to break away from his face. Watching, observing, for any signs of discomfort. Waiting, offering him a chance to escape from this weirdness if he so desires to or suddenly feels trapped.

He nods, swallows. His throat bobs as he does. “Of course I do.” His voice sounds small. A stark contrast to the confidence that dripped from his tongue only minutes prior.

Tav keeps her eyes on his and raises her hands to the laces of her blouse, finding the ends of the ties and pulling them apart until the bows fall apart. One by one, she loosens the strings until it’s hanging from her chest and she pulls the fabric up and over her head. When her fingers drop to the front of her pants next, Astarion’s mind clouds with images of filth and heat, memories of late nights and glimpses of red hot passion. His tongue loosens up in his mouth like an old habit he can’t seem to shake and he begins to speak at the same time that he pulls his own shirt from his body. Tav ignores his words tainted with flirtation and filth and begins to work the corks from the bottles set aside, pouring them into the water with lips sealed tight and her back to him, allowing him a moment to undress on his own terms while he comes back to himself.

His shirt falls in a pile on the floor and becomes forgotten. His pants follow soon after. Still, Tav pays him no attention. The words that spill from his lips like sick refuse to stop and if he could flush hot with embarrassment, he would. Bare as the day he was born, clothes tossed aside, she still makes no advance to touch him. Second by everlasting second, the cloud in his head disperses.

She shares the flame of an oil lamp to several candles and disperses them throughout the room. The atmosphere becomes bathed in golden light, shifting, shimmering in shades of yellow and orange. The aromas from the bath oils fill the room. Astarion has been reduced to silence once again. He manages to clear his throat. The slight chill seeping in from the open window licks at his already cool skin and he suddenly feels very naked. “Is this a ritual?”

Tav lights the final candle and extinguishes the lamp. The rest of her clothing finds the floor and she steps into the tub, running her fingers over the surface to mix and disperse the bubbles and oils that float on top. “Of sorts.”

She moves so eloquently. Gracefully. And he watches her as she descends down into the water. It welcomes her like she holds a divinity for it and cradles her frame, and finally, once she’s settled on the bottom, she offers him her hand.

She guides him towards her, pulling him closer and urging him to join her, and with two big steps he steps into the space she’d left for him behind her. Hesitant and lacking instruction or guidance, he manages to settle. His legs feel much too long bracketing her in on both sides of her hips. The tops of his knees nudge against her sides and he allows them to as a passive reminder that he is there. Perhaps it’s a reminder for both of them.

Tav lets her hair down from its hold, running her fingers through the strands and wetting them with her palms, and Astarion wants to reach out to touch. He wants to comb through the knots and run his manicured nails over her skin, but his hands remain glued to the tub’s edge. Braced for whatever comes next in this strange ritual… Of sorts.

The water swirls as Tav cups the nice-smelling liquid in her palms, raising it to her shoulders and letting it drip over her skin until it shines and the air swims with floral aromas. When she rolls her head to the side and moves away her hair over her shoulder Astarion can’t sit still any longer. He leans forward and buries his face in her neck, nosing at her slick skin and teasing the artery there that's still healing from the last time he fed. He’s careful there as he drinks up the scent of her skin and his hands shake, that yearning to touch stronger than ever, and he gives into it, dipping his arms under the surface of the water to touch familiar skin and memorize her on instinct alone. Just as he has done so many times before.

He sighs deep and heavy when one of her hands reaches up behind him to scrape over his scalp, and dips his tongue into the shell of her ear.

“So when do we begin?” He asks, his voice so quiet it’s nearly a whisper. She pulls at the curls at the nape of his neck until he detaches from her skin. “Now.”

“What shall I do, my love?”

This strange ritual.

Those three words ring around his head, rich, like bells, and she whispers back.

“Relax.”

That lost feeling returns when she begins to lean back and crowd his space, pressing her back to his chest until he’s forced to support her weight in the water. When she becomes pleasantly weighted on him he leans back as well, reclining until they fall together as one body within the tub. When they’re both comfortable, Tav sighs and rubs at his knees on either side of her hips. Her eyes have fallen shut. Is she sleeping?

“Darling,” he says, and Tav hums sweetly, “which ritual is this?”

“The only ritual I'm succumbing you to is my raw devotion to you.”

His brow furrows despite the way that his chest manages to bloom with something nice inside, and she tilts her chin up to lay a lingering kiss to the underside of his jaw. It’s only then that he realizes how his body has tensed again, but not out of anything unpleasant. “Relax,” she reminds him, and despite everything in his brain screaming at him for the foreignness of this devotion, he does.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion fluff

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 years ago

Photo

I always have high hopes for old homes when I see the exteriors, but I get shot down when I see the interiors. Here is a case where they brag about the original features, but the renovation choices are much too modern.

This is an 1892 Queen Anne, known as the “Herndon House,” in Owenton, Kentucky. It has 4bs. 3ba. and is listed for $449K. So, the first thing they brag about is the original iron fence. That’s wonderful.

BUT, they have an original fence and covered the house in vinyl siding, railings, and lattice. It looks like those new repro Victorian development homes.

In the entrance hall, there’s a beautiful staircase and pocket doors.

This lamp, however, is new. I don’t know if the original newel post had a light, or if they decided to adapt a new fixture. If it had one before, it would’ve been a bronze statue.

Here, they’re showing the buyers the special door knobs.

Here they show that the fireplace surround is original, but where’s the rest of it? They could’ve tried to duplicate it, at least with the mirror and pillars, but chose to use a small new mantle, painted white.

They made everything new and hung an antique fixture, so the room doesn’t do it justice.

The sitting rooms and dining room are so bland. Yes, there’re pocket doors, but what did they do with the other fireplaces?

And, look what they did to the kitchen. It’s super modern and doesn’t fit.

This home has service stairs- they modernized them, but at least they left them.

Upstairs, they brightened the bds. with white paint over the wood, when they get plenty of light.

I like the tub in the en suite, but not the sink.

Hooray, finally found a fireplace.

And, another one in this bd. I still think that the natural wood looks best- this room is still light and bright.

This would be a lovely library.

They tried to make a vintage looking bath, but I can’t help thinking that the cabinets are adapted from 70s kitchen cabinets.

Some reproduction hinges- that’s how you do an old house renovation, but it’s got to be consistent.

Whoever did this house really didn’t know what they were doing.

Notice how the Victorian house next door differs.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/313-N-Adams-St-Owenton-KY-40359/105935492_zpid/

#queen anne reno #houses #house tours #home tour #long post

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devil-doll13 · 2 years ago

Text

Stay Clean

Tw: Mentions of Death/Murder, maybe eating people ig lol

(I just wanna preface this by saying I know basically next to nothing about fixing cars or motorcycles lol so if there are any inaccuracies I apologise for that!)

Horror/Slasher Oc writing for Maxwell “Max” Holt

Dividers by firefly-graphics

“… missing case last night has been reported to local law enforcement. Identified as North Carolina-born Mark Fisher, the 33 year old was last seen drinking at a bar in Downings before he disappeared without a trace. This again marks another in a series of disappearances that has concerned the public, with some expressing worries that it is the work of a serial killer or a human trafficking ring. Police are still investigating if these cases are conne-“

Max groaned and fiddled with the knob of the radio, a dusty yellow rag over his hand to prevent the grease from staining it. Switching over to the local rock station, he smiled as Motörhead’s ‘Stay Clean’ replaced the uncomfortable chatter of the news; Lemmy’s thundering bass was always more reassuring to hear.

Especially now, the small voice in his head whispered to him. He was reminded of exactly what he did last night; an impulse brought on at least in part by his victim’s poor treatment of Debbie, the waitress at his favourite diner. It might not have been the wisest idea to kill again after the last time, but at least now his hunger pangs had subsided. With Mark he’d sated them till’ the next month.

Shaking his head to disperse those thoughts, Max’s hands came to rest again on the shiny bronze chrome of the Chevrolet in front of him. She’d come in with a nasty dent in her bumper from a collision. Thankfully nothing serious, but the guy had mentioned she just up and stopped on him. Not a problem you’d really want to ignore either way. His boss Jerry had her first, mentioned ‘some issue with the fan-belt’ he’d sorted out. She just needed some little fixes and then she’d be good to go, he’d said.

Max gave her engine another look over, wanting to be sure he’d gotten everything. Any other issues would probably show up when he started her up in a test-drive later. His keen ears picked up everything, so he knew when a car didn’t sound right. It was something Jerry had no idea Max got from his lycanthropy; he only knew it was another helpful addition to his toolkit when he hired him.

“… Max!” For a second he thought he heard a voice shouting over the din and he raised his head. By the office door of the workshop was his coworker, Leo, leaning against a cluttered tool cabinet. Max turned down the radio a tad.

“Oh, yeah, Leo. What’s up?” Max perked up a bit at the appearance of his work buddy, the only other person employed at the shop aside from him.

The younger man seemed to be preparing himself to ask him a question. Leo was a bit of a nervous type, so Max was used to the way he tended to need reassurance now and again. He seemed to try and wring his hands out on an oil-stained tank top, a futile endeavour.

“Hey man, just double-checking to be sure… You’re still free for our campaign on Saturday night, right?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed with a toothy grin, sharp canines on display.

The subject of D&D had come up in a conversation over drinks the other night. He had reminisced over playing with his friends back in highschool and Leo expressed a desire to learn more about the game. Max was excited at the prospect of playing again, and gladly offered to teach him and his two younger sisters the joys of D&D. In all honesty, he really missed it. It had been years since he properly sat down and played at a real table. Although he’d probably be the DM so he could guide them in their first campaign, the thought still made him giddy inside.

“I got somethin’ brewing up that’s more beginner friendly” Max continued, blue eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. He took his hands off the car to gesture wildly, an old habit “I’m a bit rusty myself after so long not havin’ played, so I could probably use a good refresher too.” He admitted with a wry quirk of the lip.

“Thanks for letting me know… Joan an’ Jessie are real excited about the whole thing. Wouldn’t stop badgerin’ me about it an’ asking me if you were still comin.’” Leo scratched the back of his neck, seeming eager to shift the blame onto the twins.

“Not that I’m not lookin’ forward to it too!” He added hastily, big brown eyes as wide as saucers.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna miss something like that.” Max assured him, chuckling. Leo nodded bashfully, then cast his gaze over to inspect the Chevrolet still docked in the workshop lift.

“…Front tire on that’s gonna need a bit of pumpin.’ I’ll go get er.’” Then he ducked back in to look for the necessary equipment.

That was Leo: real shy, but good with cars.

After work Max peeled off his grimy coveralls, replacing them with his usual washed out denim jeans and a black leather jacket. It was approaching Summer, and the warm sun beat down on the cracked pavement. Still, a cool spring breeze necessitated extra layers. Especially with his ride…

He rounded the corner toward where he’d left her, and he smiled as she came into view; his beloved Harley Davidson. Her glossy red paint was unmistakable, metal exhaust pipes gleaming in the sunlight.

He felt no shame in admitting she was his pride and joy; he had fixed her up himself, and she’d been with him for years now. Feeling the wind whip past him as he went 20 over the speed limit on the back of her was exhilarating beyond all words could express.

Max jogged over and fished his keys out of his pocket, resting his palm on the black leathered handlebar. A dark-visored helmet rested on the seat. Snatching it up, he shook his hair out of his ponytail, his tousled blond curls still damp from sweat.

He kicked his leg over to start the girl up, and soon the fierce growl of her engine reverberated through his bones. She purred mightily, spitting fumes all the way down the road as he headed back home.

As he came up to his house Max was pleasantly surprised to see Jack’s rusty blue pickup truck parked in the driveway. He definitely hadn’t been expecting him. Of course, Jack wasn’t the type to give prior notice before he called in, (Maybe that would dampen his mysterious appeal) so Max just gave him his own key so he could come and go as he pleased. Now he was used to receiving random visits from the elder lycan.

Max could see the dim light of his television through the window as he parked beside Jack’s truck, so he hurried to unlock the door and catch up with him.

“Hey, Jack!” He called out cheerfully as he hung up his jacket. There was no answer from the taciturn Jack. Max was used to that too.

Entering the kitchen, he saw the silver-haired man standing in the doorway to his living room. He was watching Judge Judy with a beer in his hand, technicolour light reflecting off his wolfish golden eyes.

“How are ya?” He tried again.

No response. Jack kept his eyes on the TV as he took a swig of the bottle.

Max shrugged and opened the door to his mini fridge, pulling out a cold beer of his own. A sharp hiss cut through the air as he pried off the bottle cap. He tried to ignore the tension in the air as he gulped down a mouthful. It tasted less refreshing than it should have.

Jack swivelled his head around, slowly, to look at him from out of the corner of his eye. There was an old scar on his face, one he never spoke about.

“Heard what ya did on the news…” He finally said.

Max froze. He felt his whole body tense up instinctively before he forced himself to relax. Jack knew. Jack understood; he wrestled with the same urges. All lycanthropes did. Still, they’d had a silent agreement never to speak of what he did.

“...Yeah?” His voice came out quietly, treading carefully.

Jack turned his attention back to the TV again, leaving him to stare down at the floor

Max resisted the urge to sigh. This is what he hated the most: the long, drawn out scoldings.

“… I don’t disagree with the choice you made. If anything, that man probably had it comin.’” That made Max look back up again, hopefully.

“But kiddo, there are consequences to livin’ like we do. Don’t forget that.”

Jack sent a pointed look his way, “Jus’ don’t get caught… Keep your nose clean, ya hear me?” He reached out a rough, calloused hand to pat Max on the shoulder. A little harder than necessary, perhaps for emphasis.

Max nodded obediently, swallowing the lump of beer in his throat. He supposed that wasn’t so much of a scolding as it was advice. Jack seemed to feel some responsibility for any mistakes Max made. Compared to him, he was only a pup, after all. And he had lived a long life, longer than any human could hope to live.

The rest of the night there was no more talk of the killings, which Max was grateful for. He offered to cook dinner for the two of them, and they ended up reminiscing again about the silly things he used to do when Jack first met him. Max grew lively again, recounting older stories from his childhood when he was even more of an idiot. This amused Jack greatly, even drawing out a rare chuckle from the older man.

Later he watched Jack’s truck kick dirt up on its way out of his driveway and down the road, waving goodbye as his words from earlier echoed in his mind.

Keep your nose clean, he’d said. He knew that he was just trying to tell him to be careful, and not attract too much attention with his meals.

He knew he wouldn’t stop doing it. He couldn’t. The world would be better off in the end, he convinced himself. But it was his accursed hunger that really controlled him in the end. He decided he’d continue to kill and feast on assholes like Mark, but after that he’d lick his chops and leave no evidence; otherwise his peaceful life in Downings would be over. Just like before.

Max wasn’t given to brooding over his problems either way, so he resolved to think no more of it for now. Instead he set himself about a far more appealing pastime: setting up his new campaign for Saturday…

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @goldrose-star, @the-pinstriped-hood, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better)

#I hope ya’ll enjoy this lil introduction to him #he is fun and easier than Abigail to write tbh #I wanted to make the town feel alive will lots of people in it #Maxwell Holt #Max #Maxwell Holt oc #fanfic #my writing #my stuff

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maybeimamuppet · 2 years ago

Note

"If she didn't love me anymore then why the hell did she open the front door?" W Chansaw pls

send me a song lyric and a ship and i’ll write something!! once again this isn’t proofread or anything so beware lol

“This isn’t gonna turn out well for you.”

“I know that.”

“She’s gonna kill you.”

“I know that.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Look, I didn’t ask you to come with me, okay? I don’t need you and I don’t want you here,” Veronica spits. “I wound up at your house by mistake. I really do appreciate you letting me crash, but that was plenty.”

“Such hostility,” JD replies. “My house is on the opposite side of town.”

“Yeah, well, I was drunk enough to vomit on Heather Chandler and to want to sleep with you, so.”

JD nods. “Point taken. Enjoy your future, Veronica Sawyer.”

“I’ll do my best, Jason Dean.”

He turns on his heel and walks away, trench coat billowing in the crisp autumn wind. Veronica sighs heavily, gripping the polyester of her blazer tightly in her fists. She’s freezing without its familiar blue on her shoulders, but her anxiety was practically burning through her skin with it on. She’d rather be cold.

She looks up at the massive doors of the Chandlers’ house and bites her lip. Brings up a fist. And knocks.

“Heather?! It’s me!” she yells. “I-I’m here to apologize!” Nothing. “Hello?!”

“For fucks sake, girl, they keep a key under the lion statue, just go in!” the elderly woman next door hollers out her window. “Too early for all this yelling.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Moore!” Veronica yells back. The woman waves her off and shuts her window, presumably off to get back in bed. Under the lion. Veronica looks around at the immaculate garden and pinpoints the statue she’s looking for. Sure enough, the little bronze key is waiting there for her.

She brushes the soil off with her skirt. Another thing for Heather to crucify her for, but what does it matter now.

She slides it into the lock and opens the front door slowly. It’s Sunday, so Heather’s family is all at church. Luckily enough. Veronica still kicks off her shoes so she doesn’t track anything over the plush carpet and starts the trek up to Heather’s room.

She brushes aside the massive red bow bearing Heather’s name to knock on the white wooden door. “Heather? It’s me.”

A grunt is her only answer. It sounds vaguely affirmative, so Veronica twists the brass knob and steps in.

Heather is sprawled like a queen on her queen sized bed, elegant down to the slender fingers splayed at her side. Elegant in spite of her debauched appearance. Her strawberry blonde hair is frizzy and wild around her round face. The red bow she was wearing last night is still in, lost among the tumbleweed of curls. God, how does she still look so fucking hot with her makeup all over her face?

“You alive?”

Another grunt. Almost like she’s rising from the dead, Heather hauls herself upright into a sitting position and fluffs her hair from her eyes. “Unluckily for you, yes. Hope you brought knee pads, bitch.”

“Whoa, I came here to apologize,” Veronica says. “Oh, you- you meant- oh.”

Heather raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. “You’re bold, Sawyer. I need a prairie oyster if I’m gonna hear you out though.”

“Right,” Veronica says anxiously. What the fuck is a prairie oyster? “I’ll. Uh. I’ll figure something out. Be right back.”

Veronica bows and has to resist the urge to smack herself. She runs down to the kitchen to save herself the embarrassment of trying to explain what the fresh hell that was. She’s almost certainly imagining it, but she thinks she hears Heather chuckle faintly as she goes.

“Prairie oyster… prairie oyster… what the fuck is that even supposed to mean?” Veronica tuts to herself. She tries to remember what her father taught her about recovering from hangovers. Hair of the dog seems like a bad idea, so she pointedly skips over the liquor cabinet and moves right to the fridge. Pickle juice is good for electrolytes. Coffee has caffeine, that might help. Orange juice for hydration and vitamins. Maybe Veronica should just take her some Advil and water and hope for the best. “Or… all… of… fuck it.”

She grabs the biggest glass in the kitchen and fills it with everything that comes to mind, with some painkillers on the side.

“I’m gonna kill her,” Veronica tuts to herself as she mixes the concoction together with a spoon. “Least I didn’t give her drain cleaner.”

She sighs and turns to head back to Heather’s room. She walks very, very slowly; both to avoid spilling on the impossibly pristine white carpet and to delay her inevitable demise.

Heather is back to being sprawled in bed when Veronica creaks the door back open. “I’m back.”

Heather does the whole frankenstein’s monster bit again and looks at her. Veronica shudders a bit as the icy blue eye practically pierces her. It shifts to the glass, and Heather tilts her head like a confused puppy. “That is not a prairie oyster.”

“I dunno what the hell that is, I… did my best,” Veronica says. She holds the glass slightly aloft with a sheepish smile. “Bon appetit.”

“Your French is deplorable,” Heather tuts. She beckons her over and takes the glass, eyeing it suspiciously before she takes a hesitant sip. “God! What the fuck is this?!”

“Pickle juice, coffee, orange juice, and water.”

“Jesus above,” Heather whispers. Veronica knows it’s bad if Heather is willingly mentioning anything to do with religion. “Tastes like hellfire.”

“I can’t cook, okay?! I burned water once!” Veronica defends, crossing her arms over her chest.

Heather looks back at the glass with a shrug. Apparently it’s worth subjecting herself to, because she takes another sip while crossing herself. Veronica winces at the face she pulls and takes it from her to put… far away.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier. On your knees bitch. You get one apology, make it good.”

Veronica nods like a stupid bobblehead and clunks to her knees. “I’m so sorry, Heather. I-I’ve never been so drunk before, I got sick, but I should’ve… yknow. Aimed. I’ve never been drunk at all, actually. But still. I’m sorry for everything before, too. Going against you. And for ruining your shoes. And your clothes. And being a total fucking pillowcase. I’ll pay financially for what I can and emotionally for the rest of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

Veronica chokes on air when a frigid cold finger slides beneath her chin and tips it up. Heather has an almost amused smirk on her face as she looks into Veronica’s wide, terrified eyes. “You don’t look half bad on your knees, Sawyer.”

“Uh…”

“You know, if you hadn’t thrown up on me, that party might’ve gone a very different direction,” Heather hums.

“You’re telling me,” Veronica sighs. “I really am so-”

“I said you get one chance, don’t be greedy, bitch.” Heather sighs. “I meant… I might’ve kissed you.”

If Veronica wasn’t already on her knees, she definitely would be after that. “What?”

“I hold my friends to very high standards, Veronica,” Heather says, swirling her pink satin robe around herself. “And my partners to even higher. You meet none of them.”

Veronica finds herself almost wanting to say Yes, your majesty. Instead, she brilliantly comes out with an, “Uh…”

“You’re so frustrating, Sawyer,” Heather grumbles. “You’re a nobody.”

“Thanks.”

“And I still like you,” Heather sighs. “In a way I probably shouldn’t.”

“Um.”

“God! And what do I do about you? I can’t just fucking- I can’t get rid of you, I can’t keep going like this, I can’t be- I just- I can’t-”

Veronica slowly stands as Heather continues stuttering uselessly. It’s almost scary, seeing the powerful girl lost for words. Lost for words because of her. Of all people.

She makes her way to her girl in red and spins her around to face her. “I can’t believe I’m gonna do this.”

“Do wh- mmph,” Heather tries to say, cut off by a kiss.

Veronica brushes her mess of curls off her forehead and cups her cheeks. Heather has her hands up like she’s got blood on them, but she slowly settles for gripping the fabric of Veronica’s skirt and tugging her waist the slightest bit closer.

“For such a pillowcase, you’re not a bad kisser,” Heather gasps when they pull apart.

“Says you,” Veronica teases. “Your breath is awful.”

“Your fault,” Heather says with a smile. Veronica can’t resist kissing it, and Heather doesn’t seem to be able to resist her. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Sawyer.”

“Yeah,” Veronica smirks. “I think I am, Chandy.”

#i fell asleep #but we back #imma finish these if it kills me #we’re also really into the canon divergences today apparently #anyway #thank you nonnie!!!#heathers #chansaw #entropy with ezzy #also if i need to add any tws for this please let me know #i’m too tired to think rn lol

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nancypullen · 1 year ago

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Bite By Bite

That's how we have improved this house, bite by bite. Today the flooring guys showed up and we checked off the upstairs bathrooms. That's nearly the whole list now. Every room has been painted, flooring went in downstairs, new carpet in one bedroom upstairs because it was repulsive, pretty quartz countertops and painted cabinets in the kitchen, downstairs powder room received a new mirror and painted vanity, and we've even established a lovely yard and added a pretty fence. It's been like pulling teeth, but the results have been worth it.

Here's the before and after of the master bath. The first photo is the real estate listing before we bought it.

Big difference!

The hall (or HALLoween) bathroom before (again, real estate listing)...

and after.

I may have gone too cutesy in that hall bathroom, but I don't care. Those pumpkin knobs are ridiculous, but kind of happy too. I promise that in person the orange in the painting is compatible with the orange of the shower curtain. Also, I think this room would like a a braided rug instead of that fluffy one. Maybe two small rugs - one in front of the sink and one by the tub. Hmmm. Or I could just say ,"Ta-da!" and call it done. We still have some small changes to make. Both shower curtain rods are silver, and the towel bar in the hall bathroom is silver. I'm using oil-rubbed bronze fixtures in both bathrooms, so in time those will change. In the master bath you may have noticed that beside each sink of the double vanity there are small towel holders on the wall - one is oil-rubbed bronze and the other is silver. That makes my eye twitch. So, just small tweaks, I'll let the dust settle before I tackle that. Maybe I'll put shower curtain rods on my Xmas list. Anywho, that was our big Friday. While the two very nice young men were hard at work upstairs I sat at my desk and worked clay into earrings. I'm listening to a new true crime podcast called Dark Downeast, mostly because I've listened to every episode of Dateline and Snapped. Dark Downeast is all about murders in New England. Good stories, but I'm dissatisfied with how many are unsolved. That's the part that I love, when some sharp detective notices an obscure clue and cracks the case wide open. I get a little cranky when I become engrossed in a case and they wrap it up without an arrest. I think they should tell you right off the bat, even in the title - "The Unsolved Murder of Jim Shortz", instead of stuff like "Terror in Massapequa". Don't make me waste my time, and don't remind me that there's a murderer running around free. Yikes! From bathrooms to murders, that's a typical blog post, right? I really need to get out more. We pick up the grandgirl tomorrow morning and return her Monday afternoon. I probably won't post here because I will be going to bed at 9 o'clock. There's a reason that we have children when we're young. I know it will be delightful and fun and she'll crack me up, and I would jump in front of a train for her, but lawdy, Grancy's joints ain't what they used to be.

That's okay, I'll soak my aches away in a pretty bathroom. That'll help. Pretty things make everything better.

See you on the other side of the weekend! Sending you BIG love. XOXO, Nancy

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dluxdekor1 · 6 months ago

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Luxury Chrome Door Handles in India: Where to Buy and What to Look For!

When it comes to home décor, door handles might seem like a small detail, but they play a significant role in enhancing the overall aesthetics of your space. Luxury handles can add a touch of elegance and sophistication to any room, transforming mundane doors into statement pieces. If you're looking to elevate your home with high-end door handles, this guide will help you understand where to buy and what to look for in luxury door handles in India. And if you're looking for a trusted source, look no further than Dluxdekor.

Why Choose Luxurious Door Handles?

Luxury handles for door are more than just functional items; they are an integral part of your interior design. Here are a few reasons why investing in luxury handles for door is a smart choice:

Aesthetic Appeal: Luxury handles come in a variety of designs, finishes, and materials, allowing you to choose ones that complement your interior style.

Durability: High-end door handles are made from premium materials, ensuring they last longer and withstand daily wear and tear.

Enhanced Functionality: Luxury handles often feature superior mechanisms that provide a smoother, more reliable operation.

Value Addition: Quality fixtures like luxury handles for door can increase the overall value of your home.

What to Look For in Luxurious Door Handles

When shopping, it's important to consider several factors to ensure you make the best choice for your home:

1. Material and Finish

Luxurious handles for door are available in various materials, including brass, bronze, chrome, and stainless steel. Each material offers a different look and feel, so choose one that matches your interior décor. Additionally, consider the finish—polished, satin, or matte—based on the level of shine and texture you prefer.

2. Design and Style

From modern minimalist to ornate classic designs, luxury chrome door handles come in a wide range of styles. Select a design that aligns with the overall theme of your home. For instance, a sleek chrome handle might suit a contemporary setting, while a brass handle with intricate detailing would be perfect for a more traditional space.

3. Functionality

Consider the type of door handle that suits your needs—lever handles, knob handles, or pull handles. Ensure the handles are ergonomically designed for comfortable use. Additionally, check the locking mechanisms if security is a priority.

4. Brand Reputation

Buying from a reputable brand ensures quality and reliability. Look for brands known for their craftsmanship and attention to detail.

Where to Buy Luxury Door Handles

Finding the perfect luxury door handles in India is now easier than ever with Dluxdekor. Here’s why Dluxdekor is your go-to source for high-end door handles:

Wide Range of Options

Dluxdekor offers an extensive collection of luxurious door handles in various materials, finishes, and styles. Whether you prefer modern or traditional designs, you're sure to find something that fits your taste.

Uncompromised Quality

Every product at Dluxdekor is crafted with precision and care, ensuring you receive door handles that are not only beautiful but also durable and functional.

Expert Assistance

The team at Dluxdekor is knowledgeable and ready to help you choose the perfect door handles for your home. Their expertise ensures you make an informed decision that enhances your interior design.

Convenient Shopping Experience

Dluxdekor's user-friendly website makes it easy to browse their collection, read detailed product descriptions, and make purchases with confidence. Plus, they offer reliable shipping across India, ensuring your luxury chrome door handles arrive promptly and in perfect condition.

Final Thoughts

Investing in luxury cabinet handles is a simple yet impactful way to elevate the aesthetics and functionality of your home. By paying attention to materials, design, functionality, and brand reputation, you can choose door handles that perfectly complement your interiors. For a seamless shopping experience and a wide selection of high-quality products, Dluxdekor is the ideal destination for luxury door handles in India.

#homedecor #dluxdekor #chrome door handles #luxury door handles in india #cabinet hardware india #antique brass door handles india #door handles shops near me #chrome handles #kitchen cabinet handles #kitchen handles #kitchen hardware #wardrobe handles #solid bronze hardware india #chrome door handles & knobs #india #united kingdom

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wedezine · 2 days ago

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The Art of Adding Metallic Elegance to Your Kitchen

The kitchen is often considered the heart of the home, and adding metallic finishes is a brilliant way to introduce a modern, luxurious, and timeless appeal to this essential space. At WeDezine Studio, we’ve noticed a growing trend among homeowners in Bangalore who are blending contemporary interior design with the warmth of functionality. Metallic finishes, when incorporated thoughtfully, can elevate your kitchen into a stunning and sophisticated area. Here’s how to achieve this effortlessly.

1. Start Small with Subtle Metallic Accents

For those new to metallics, begin by adding subtle touches. Metallic hardware such as cabinet handles, knobs, or bar stools can bring a refined elegance without overwhelming the overall design.

Pro Tip: Pair metallic accents with neutral or pastel cabinet colors to create a harmonious look that feels both fresh and balanced.

2. Select Statement Lighting

Lighting is a powerful tool in interior design, and metallic fixtures can serve as eye-catching focal points. Install pendant lights or chandeliers in finishes like brushed nickel, copper, or brass to enhance functionality and aesthetics.

Popular Choice in Bangalore: Sleek brass pendant lights paired with warm LED bulbs are highly favored for their ability to create an inviting and cozy atmosphere.

3. Incorporate Metallic Backsplashes

A metallic backsplash is a bold yet practical design choice that adds depth and texture to your kitchen. Stainless steel, copper tiles, or mirrored glass are not only visually striking but also durable and easy to maintain.

Design Tip: Choose a stainless-steel backsplash for a contemporary look or opt for copper tiles to complement rustic or industrial-style kitchens.

4. Opt for Metallic Appliances

Stainless steel appliances have been a mainstay in modern kitchen designs for their timeless and sleek appearance. However, newer finishes like black stainless steel or bronze can add a unique twist to your space.

WeDezine Recommendation: Pair metallic appliances with matte-finished cabinets to achieve a sophisticated contrast.

5. Explore Metallic Countertops

Although less common, metallic countertops—crafted from materials like brushed aluminum or hammered metal—can make a bold design statement. They reflect light beautifully, creating the illusion of a larger, brighter kitchen.

Maintenance Note: Metallic countertops are durable but require regular cleaning to maintain their shine and pristine appearance.

6. Add Decorative Metallic Touches

Incorporate metallics through decorative elements such as copper pots, gold vases, or stainless-steel fruit bowls. These small additions can tie the design together while adding character to the space.

Quick Fix: Use metallic trays or utensil holders to add subtle glamour without committing to large-scale changes.

7. Master the Art of Mixing Metals

Mixing metals in interior design is no longer a faux pas. The key is to achieve balance. Blend warm metals like gold or brass with cooler tones like chrome or silver for a cohesive look.

Trending in Bangalore: Matte black accents combined with gold finishes are becoming a popular choice for contemporary urban homes.

8. Think Beyond with Metallic Flooring and Ceilings

For those who love bold interior design, consider extending metallic finishes to the flooring or ceiling. Metallic epoxy flooring offers a seamless, glossy surface that reflects light and enhances the room’s aesthetic appeal.

WeDezine Insight: A metallic-finished ceiling with recessed lighting can give your kitchen an ultra-modern, high-end vibe.

Final Thoughts

Metallic finishes are incredibly versatile and complement a variety of kitchen styles, from modern minimalism to classic rustic charm. The key lies in balancing the metallic elements to enhance both functionality and design.

At WeDezine Studio, we specialize in creating personalized interiors tailored to your vision. Whether you’re designing or remodeling your dream kitchen in Bangalore, our experts can help transform your space into a masterpiece that’s stylish, practical, and timeless.

#kitchen interior designers in bangalore #kitchen interiors bangalore

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webironmongeryofficial1 · 5 days ago

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Why Are Door Handles Important for Your Home's Appearance?

Door handles London are more than functional pieces—they are pivotal design elements that define character and sophistication. In a city where timeless charm meets contemporary elegance, door handles aren’t merely tools but statements that reflect personal style.

From classic Victorian townhouses to ultra-modern apartments, door handles serve as finishing touches that elevate interiors. A brass handle with intricate inlays might infuse warmth and texture into a traditional space, while sleek black handles lend modernity to minimalist homes. London homeowners are recognizing that a well-chosen handle isn’t just practical; it transforms a room’s aesthetic.

Significance of Door Handles in Interior Design

1. Enhancing Aesthetic Appeal

While colors and lighting are often the focal points in home design, the tactile experience of a door handle plays a subtle yet crucial role. It’s the first interaction a guest has with your space, shaping their initial impression.

2. Maintaining Design Harmony

Handles tie together various elements in a room. For example, in a modern kitchen, sleek stainless steel Door handles create a seamless look, while ornate brass handles might unify a vintage theme.

3. Balancing Style with Functionality

Aesthetic appeal and functionality go hand in hand. A beautiful handle should also feel good in the hand and be durable enough for daily use. Modern London homes prioritize this balance, particularly in spaces like kitchens and bathrooms.

Trending Door Handle Styles in London

Brass and Gold Finishes

Brass handles are highly sought after for their ability to complement diverse interiors, from industrial lofts to stately homes. Their rich tones add depth and luxury.

Matte Black Minimalism

In contemporary settings, matte black handles provide a striking contrast against light-colored walls or cabinetry, exuding understated elegance.

Eco-Friendly Options

Sustainability is reshaping design in London. Recycled metals and reclaimed wood handles are gaining traction, offering eco-conscious homeowners stylish yet sustainable choices.

Vintage Revival

Art Deco glass knobs and antique brass handles are making a comeback, blending nostalgic charm with modern interiors.

Material Choices for Door Handles

1. Brass

Durability: Develops a rich patina over time.

Style: Perfect for both traditional and industrial designs.

Maintenance: Easy to clean, requiring minimal effort.

2. Stainless Steel

Applications: Ideal for kitchens and bathrooms due to its resistance to tarnishing.

Design Fit: Matches minimalist and contemporary aesthetics.

3. Wood

Look: Adds warmth and a natural touch.

Downside: Prone to wear; requires periodic refinishing.

4. Glass

Style: Sophisticated, ideal for vintage or antique decor.

Durability: Fragile, better suited for low-traffic areas.

5. Copper and Bronze

Features: Develops a patina, adding character over time.

Aesthetic: Complements rustic or industrial designs.

How to Choose the Perfect Door Handle

Match the Interior Theme: Brass for traditional homes, matte black for contemporary spaces.

Prioritize Comfort: Handles should feel comfortable in your hand, especially in frequently used areas.

Coordinate with Hardware: Ensure consistency with faucets, lighting fixtures, and cabinet knobs.

Balance Proportion: Use larger handles for doors and smaller knobs for cabinets to maintain visual harmony.

Invest in Quality: Opt for durable materials like stainless steel for long-term performance.

Case Studies: Door Handles Transforming Homes in London

1. East London Minimalist Apartment

A sleek, matte black handle design was chosen to contrast light cabinetry. Eco-friendly materials were prioritized for sustainability, aligning with the homeowner’s values.

2. Victorian Townhouse Renovation

Antique brass handles were used to retain the historical charm while modernizing functionality with ergonomic designs.

3. Modern Office Space in Central London

Stainless steel handles with brushed finishes were installed to create a professional yet welcoming environment.

4. Sustainable Home in Camden

Reclaimed wood and recycled metal handles became focal points, blending sustainability with bespoke design.

5. Luxury Penthouse in Kensington

Gold-plated handles with intricate inlays added opulence, perfectly matching the plush interiors.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. How often should I replace door handles?High-quality handles can last 5–10 years or longer. Replace them if they become worn or if you want to refresh your interior style.

2. What are the best materials for handles in high-moisture areas?Stainless steel and brass are excellent choices for kitchens and bathrooms due to their resistance to rust and tarnish.

3. Do door handles impact resale value?Yes, upgrading to stylish and durable handles can enhance your home’s appeal, positively influencing its market value.

Conclusion

Door handles london are integral to home aesthetics and functionality. From brass to matte black finishes, they provide a touch of elegance and practicality. Whether you’re revamping a single room or an entire home, choosing the right door handle can elevate your space, blending timeless design with modern sensibilities.

#door handle

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marina-isles · 10 days ago

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Top Trends in Kitchen and Bathroom Hardware for 2024

As we move into 2024, kitchen and bathroom hardware trends are taking a bold turn toward blending functionality, sustainability, and design. Today’s homeowners are looking for hardware that is not only stylish but also long-lasting and eco-friendly. From luxurious finishes to smart technology, this year’s trends offer something for every style and preference. Here’s a look at the top trends in kitchen and bathroom hardware to inspire your next renovation.

1. Matte Black Finishes: A Bold, Timeless Choice

Matte black hardware continues to be a top choice for modern kitchens and bathrooms. Its sleek, understated elegance works well in both minimalist and industrial-inspired spaces, and it provides a striking contrast when paired with lighter colors like white or marble. Matte black also has the advantage of being easy to maintain, as it resists fingerprints and water spots.

How to Incorporate Matte Black:

Pair matte black faucets with white or natural stone countertops for a modern look

Use black cabinet handles in kitchens with light-colored cabinetry for a balanced contrast

Mix with other finishes like brass or chrome to create visual interest and dimension

2. Warm Metals: Brass and Bronze for a Vintage Touch

Warm metals like brass and bronze are making a strong comeback in 2024, bringing a sense of luxury and warmth to kitchens and bathrooms. These finishes are perfect for those who want to add a vintage or classic touch to their spaces. Antique brass and oil-rubbed bronze finishes work particularly well with natural materials like wood and stone, creating a welcoming, earthy aesthetic.

Ideas for Using Warm Metals:

Install brass faucets and showerheads in the bathroom for a classic, timeless feel

Use bronze cabinet handles and drawer pulls in rustic or farmhouse-style kitchens

Combine with textured or natural finishes, such as wood or marble, for an elegant, layered look

3. Minimalist, Slim Profile Handles

A minimalist approach to hardware is becoming more popular as homeowners embrace simplicity and clean lines. Slim-profile handles and low-profile knobs contribute to a clutter-free appearance, creating a sleek and streamlined look. This trend works especially well in small kitchens and bathrooms, where space efficiency is key, as well as in spaces designed around a minimalist or Scandinavian aesthetic.

Minimalist Hardware Ideas:

Opt for thin bar handles on kitchen cabinets for a modern, streamlined effect

Choose recessed handles for a minimalist look that reduces visual clutter

Pair slim handles with open shelving or glass-front cabinets for an airy feel

4. Sustainable, Eco-Friendly Materials

As environmental consciousness grows, so does the demand for sustainable hardware. In 2024, eco-friendly materials and finishes are trending, with a focus on recycled metals, sustainably sourced woods, and durable designs that reduce the need for replacements. Homeowners are now more inclined to select hardware that is both environmentally responsible and designed to stand the test of time.

Sustainable Choices for Hardware:

Look for hardware made from recycled brass, stainless steel, or reclaimed wood

Choose water-efficient faucets for a greener bathroom setup

Select durable materials that resist wear, reducing the need for replacements and waste

5. Smart Technology: Adding Functionality with Smart Hardware

Smart home technology continues to evolve, and hardware is no exception. In 2024, smart kitchen and bathroom hardware is gaining traction, offering added convenience, functionality, and even hygiene benefits. Smart faucets with touchless activation are particularly popular, reducing water waste and improving cleanliness. Smart locks and cabinet lighting are other examples of how technology is enhancing modern kitchens and bathrooms.

Smart Hardware Solutions:

Install touchless faucets in the kitchen or bathroom to reduce water waste and improve hygiene

Use smart locks for added security in bathroom or pantry areas

Add motion-sensor lighting inside cabinets for convenient, hands-free illumination

6. Mixed Finishes: Creating Contrast and Visual Interest

Gone are the days of matching every piece of hardware. In 2024, mixing finishes is on-trend, allowing homeowners to create dynamic and unique spaces. By combining different metals or finishes, you can add depth and visual interest without overwhelming the room. For instance, pairing matte black handles with brass accents or chrome with brushed nickel creates an elegant, layered look that feels both fresh and personalized.

Tips for Mixing Finishes:

Pair two complementary finishes, such as matte black with brass, for a balanced look

Limit the number of finishes to avoid visual clutter; stick to two or three

Use one finish as the dominant feature and the other as an accent to create harmony

7. Textured Hardware for Added Dimension

Textured hardware is a subtle yet effective way to add dimension and personality to your kitchen or bathroom. In 2024, designs featuring hammered, ribbed, or knurled textures are making their way into hardware trends. These textures not only add a tactile quality to the space but also enhance the visual appeal of cabinetry and fixtures, making them perfect for adding an artisan touch.

Ideas for Using Textured Hardware:

Use knurled or ribbed knobs on cabinetry for an industrial look

Choose hammered finishes for a rustic or vintage-inspired space

Pair textured hardware with smooth finishes for contrast and depth

8. Oversized Handles and Statement Hardware

Oversized and statement hardware is ideal for homeowners looking to make a bold impact. Large handles and knobs can turn simple cabinetry into a focal point, adding drama and personality to a room. This trend works particularly well in kitchens with large cabinets or bathrooms with double vanities, where oversized hardware can bring balance and a sense of scale.

How to Incorporate Statement Hardware:

Use oversized bar pulls on tall kitchen cabinets for a modern, dramatic effect

Select bold knobs or handles in unique shapes for added personality

Combine statement hardware with simple cabinetry for a sophisticated look

Why Choose Marina Isles for On-Trend Kitchen and Bathroom Hardware?

Keeping up with the latest trends in kitchen and bathroom hardware can be challenging, but Marina Isles, based in Sydney, Australia, makes it easy. With an extensive selection of on-trend finishes, high-quality materials, and innovative designs, Marina Isles offers the perfect options to help you stay ahead of the curve. From sleek matte black handles to sustainable, eco-friendly hardware, Marina Isles’ curated range caters to every style and preference. Elevate your kitchen and bathroom with hardware that combines fashion, function, and quality – only at Marina Isles. Visit today to find the latest in hardware trends and start transforming your space.

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modularkitchen05 · 13 days ago

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Trending Color Scheme for Your Modular Kitchen Design

source of info: https://www.regalokitchens.com/article/trending-color-scheme-for-your-modular-kitchen-design

Color schemes for modern modular kitchen design are popular right now because they provide comfortable attractive variations. Neutral foundations that provide a beautiful foundation, such as matte black, charcoal gray, and soft beige, are trendy. Accents of vibrant colors like bright mustard, bold blue, or rich emerald are frequently used to add zest, giving kitchens an attractive and colorful atmosphere. Additionally popular is the two-tone look, which adds depth and personality to top and bottom cabinets with different colors. Copper or brushed brass are excellent metallic treatments for a luxurious look. For a stylish, combined look, these colors go in perfectly with modular designs.

Why Color Matters in Modular Kitchen Design

Any kitchen's environment and functionality are strongly affected by color. Because every component of a modular kitchen design, from worktops to cabinets, can be customized, colors can define space, create harmony, and even affect mood. It can be difficult to choose colors when there are many options available, but maintaining up with the newest trends will help your design get new ideas.

According to Regalo Kitchens, the need for originality, elegance, and simplicity is reflected in the color trends of 2024. Now, let's explore some of the most popular color schemes for modular kitchens and how they can enhance your area.

1. Neutral Tones with a Twist

While neutral kitchen colors like white, gray, and cream continue to be in style, 2024 has seen modern variations on these timeless colors. Warmer neutrals like gray, beige, and greige—a combination of beige and gray—are becoming more popular among designers. These colors provide coziness and an impression of luxury to a kitchen.

• Reasons for Choosing Light Color: Light colors are classic, go well with any type of décor, and give the kitchen a fresh, proper look.

• Perfect Mixtures: For cabinets with white or gray counters, try a combination of soft beige. Think about using bronze or gold hardware to look better.

• Regalo Kitchens suggests combining a warm taupe cabinet with a creamy white marble backsplash to add an air of beauty.

2. Bold and Dramatic Blues

Blue has been a popular color for modular kitchens, especially in further and darker shades. These colors, which range from slate blue to navy and purple, offer depth and refinement, making the kitchen seem stylish and stunning. Both modern and traditional kitchen designs benefit from blue's ability to let homeowners express their individuality without overpowering the room.

• Why Opt for Dark Blues? These colors create a welcoming atmosphere and go well with metallic elements.

• Perfect Mixtures: For a beautiful design, pair navy blue cabinets with copper or brass knobs. For a well-balanced contrast, pair white cabinets with a deep blue island.

• Suggestion: For a stylish functional kitchen, deep blue cabinets with a white marble countertop and gold hardware create a luxurious atmosphere.

3. Earthy Greens for a Natural Look

Greens, particularly those with earthy tones, are becoming more and more common in modular kitchen design. These colors promote serenity and a feeling of oneness with the natural world. These colors, which range from olive and sage to forest green, are perfect for anybody wishing to design a calm kitchen.

• Reasons for Selecting Earthy Greens: Green colors go well with organic materials like stone and wood and produce a relaxing, perfectly-balanced atmosphere.

• Perfect Mixtures: A rustic but contemporary look may be achieved with cream counters and sage green cabinetry with wooden accents.

• For a modern, environmentally friendly look, Regalo Kitchens suggests using matte olive green cabinets with metal hardware.

4. Warm Terracotta and Clay Tones

The ceramic and clay tones, which draw inspiration from earthy components, give the kitchen coziness and an authentic attraction. These colors work well in kitchen modules because they provide comfort without overtaking the layout. These warm, natural colors give modern kitchen areas a Mediterranean vibe.

• Why Opt for Orange Shades? These hues are ideal for giving simple designs personality and creating a cozy, welcoming atmosphere in the kitchen.

• Perfect Mixtures: Ceramic cabinets seem grounded and natural when paired with light wood floors and white or neutral decor.

• The Advice of Regalo Kitchens: Warm wood cabinets and a clay-toned backsplash combine to produce a stylish but lively design that is perfect for open kitchen layouts.

5. Black and White Minimalism

The classic black-and-white color scheme is still popular because it provides a crisp, modern look. Almost every design style, from industrial to minimalist, can benefit from this high contrast combo. Additionally, it's simple to change with minor color accents in accessories and décor.

• Why Opt for Black and White? Both small and big kitchen areas can benefit from this timeless combination, which is minimal maintenance and has a striking visual effect.

• Perfect Mixtures: A black island set against white walls or matte black bottom cabinets with glossy white upper cabinets can offer a striking effect.

• For a sleek, elegant design, Regalo Kitchens suggests using stainless steel appliances, white surfaces, and black cabinets.

6. Soft Pastels for a Subtle Look

In modular kitchen design, soft colors like blush pink, powder blue, and mint green are returning. For people who desire a pop of color without going overboard, these colors are ideal. The kitchen looks larger and more open because of the bright, airy impression that colors give it.

• The Reasons for Selecting Soft Pastels They look well in small kitchens, are visually pleasing, and provide a happy mood.

• Perfect Mixtures: A charming kitchen may be created with blush pink cabinets with silver hardware or mint green cabinets with white worktops.

• Regalo Kitchens' Suggestion: Your kitchen can look attractive and old with pastel blue cabinetry and natural wood accessories.

7. Monochromatic Gray with Metallic Accents

Gray provides a stylish, modern look that is versatile to many different designs, particularly when used in a monochromatic scheme. Gray kitchens appear elegant and opulent when combined with metallic elements like gold or silver, making them perfect for a contemporary modular kitchen design.

• Reasons for Selecting Monochromatic Gray: Gray is classic and adaptable, working well with both sophisticated and simple designs.

• Perfect Mixtures: Choose different shades of gray for the cabinetry or use light gray for the cabinets and dark gray for the backsplash.

• According to Regalo Kitchens, a gray kitchen with stainless steel appliances and silver accessories can give your customized kitchen a modern, stylish look.

Tips for Choosing the Right Color Scheme

• Think about the Kitchen Size: darker colors can give bigger areas a sense of comfort and warmth, while brighter colors can enlarge a little kitchen.

• Complement the Current Décor: To ensure a smooth transition, make sure the colors of your kitchen go well with the rest of your home's decor.

• Test with Samples: Analyze how your selected colors appear in your kitchen's lighting by trying out little samples.

• Balance Bold with Neutral: To maintain a cohesive and classic style, balance a bold color choice with basic components.

Conclusion

With color trends providing a wide range of alternatives to fit every personal preference and home style, modular kitchen design are more fascinating than ever in 2024. Every trend, from earthy greens and warm neutrals to striking blues and color grays, gives your kitchen a unique look. Regalo Kitchens, the leading kitchen company in India, specializes in assisting you in selecting the perfect color scheme for your adjustable kitchen, making sure it is stylish and functional. With our help, your kitchen can be transformed into a stunning, comfortable space that suits your kitchen requirements and expresses your personal style.

Create the kitchen of your dreams with colors that genuinely inspire by speaking with our specialists about Regalo Kitchens' modular designs and for more suggestions!

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