#camel colored sofa

[caughtonsamsung]

Bridgeport Medium Sun Room Sunroom image of a mid-sized, elegant space with a medium-toned brown floor and no fireplace.

[vintagehomecollection]

Tones of butterscotch, bittersweet, camel, and black are woven into the color blocks of a fringed throw draped on a white sofa. The spicy colors are repeated in the black and camel tiles of the table and the little terracotta figurine.

House Beautiful Color, 1993

[lisenberry]

The sweat on your skin is better than regret on your heart

Part three! (One and Two) I know I promised smut, but I just got really deep into his tattoos. Part four will finish this up, I swear.

Tattoo Artist!Price x F!Reader

He led you towards the back of the shop, past the reception desk and the waiting area, and behind the black velvet privacy curtain.  You were surprised at how clean it was in his workspace.  Welcoming in its warmth.  You expected neon lights and goth décor.  Crystal skulls and gleaming stainless steel.

Instead, it was a palette of rich, earthy tones.  A supple looking camel-colored leather sofa, maps of the ocean and model ships of every shape and size.  A compass rose painted with elaborate detail on the ceiling.  A stained-glass light fixture at its center. 

“It’s beautiful in here,” you mused, as you spun around slowly in a mix of awe and anticipation.  If you were to get a tattoo, it would be the place. 

“If you give me a second, I can draw you up a few ideas.  The ones you showed me on your little phone are uninspired shit.”  He slipped another cig from his pack and tucked it behind his ear.  Always at the ready.

“I’m actually more worried about the placement.”  You bit your lip for courage.  You couldn’t believe you were doing this.  “Could you show me yours?  Maybe that’ll help me decide.”

You sat atop a padded seat that he could recline forward and backward, raise up and down to suit the best position.  It was comfortable and smooth against the back of your knees. 

“I think we can stop pretending why you’re still here.  You want me to help you forget your boyfriend, don’t you?  Work you up so hard—so good and proper—that you don’t remember his name.”

But even as he spoke, he obliged you.  Tugged his shirt off efficiently, pulling it up from behind his neck and shrugging it over the front of his shoulders, letting it come to rest between his wrists.  It briefly looked like handcuffs before he tossed it on the floor beside him.

His hair stuck up in roguish angles before he could smooth it down with a stiff swipe of his palm.   

“No, I want to remember.  Remember this feeling for the rest of my life.”  You couldn’t look away as he stood so close to you, so proudly as if for an inspection. 

At the swath of hair that curled around the thick muscles of his chest and trailed down to disappear beneath the waist of the pants that hung low where his hands rested on his hips.

“What feeling is that?”

“Empty?”  You reached a hand out tentatively to touch the skin along his side.  To move him closer for a better look.  “But free.”

He was inked in a scattering of places, like memories collected over time.  No rhyme or symmetry to their arrangement.  A snake coiled around his shoulder and sunk its teeth into his collarbone.  A black bird with a long neck and hooked beak sat vigilantly on one bicep while a simple, unadorned dagger with wings claimed the other.

Some more weathered than others, it was hard to tell which was the oldest. 

“What’s the bird for?”  you asked, nodding to his left arm.  Below it was written “You’ll never walk alone” in stylized script. 

“That’s a liver bird.  The symbol of the LFC.”  A football club?  You cracked a smile at the boyishness of it.  You wondered if that was his first one, as a lad staking his claim on his body.  And the world.

“And the snake?”  You took your time tracing his right shoulder with your fingertips. 

“I hate snakes.  Scare me to death.”  Brave then, to carry one around with him always, forever creeping up to bite him. 

“And the bees?  You scared of them, too?”  You noted the collection of realistically drawn bumble bees at his side, fresher and with bright yellow colors. 

“Those are for my nieces.  Beatrice, Brenna and Bailey.”  He pointed to each, with a glimmer of softness in his voice as he recalled their names.

As you slid your hands to his hips, you turned him around to view the larger canvas at his back.  Just as disjointed as his front, your gaze fell to a ghostly face. 

More skeleton than specter, it sat on his right shoulder.  It’s teeth were made of bullets, and it stared blankly back at you.  The pitch black in the depths of its eyes unnerving. 

Beside it was a bear, warlike in its posture.  Its face open and fearsome, ready to consume its foe.  A claymore style longsword, with a thistle design at its hilt held in its massive paws.

One last piece balanced out the trinity.  A Knight Templar, crouched in armor.  On one bent knee, in service to a force unseen. 

They felt significant, inked in a similar style and with a fluidity that bound them together. 

“They’re important to you?”

“To be at my back?  Yeah.  They’re the best.”

From there, your fingers moved lower, to a set of four lions sat on their flanks.  You recognized them from history.  They were the Landseed lions of Admiral Nelson’s monument in Trafalgar Square.  They’d once held names too, like his nieces. 

Peace. War. Vigilance. Determination.

But these had arrows in their backs.  You imagined that each one in the count held a significance.  Not a life taken.  Or a victory.  Not something so crass and boastful.  Instead, something lost.

Below each, he’d had a set of coral red poppies added.  Bright and vibrant and new.

“It’s lovely,” you felt a tear drift down your cheek.  You didn’t know why.  It happened sometimes when you were at a museum or a gallery.  Moved beyond words at something beyond yourself.  The unbridled expression of another.

The last was a lone set of crosshairs, in a style so different than the rest.  Thin and unsure, as if doodled in a dream.  Just below his neck.  Dead-center at the crest of his spine.

“What’s this one?” You grazed it gently with your fingers.  Not entirely sure you wanted the answer.

“That’s the one that finally gets me, love,” he growled as he twisted around and held your probing hand in his.  “You’ve looked your fill.  Now it’s my turn.”

[mileapokp1677]

Three Steps to Win You (CH 32)

Title: Three Steps to Win You

Rating: M

Pairing: Daddy Chan/Tankhun, Kinn/Porsche, Vegas/Pete

Category: M/M, AU Nerd Jock

Summary: Accidentally, scientist Tankhun Theerapanyakul embarrassed footballer Captain Chan "Daddy" Knight in front of his coach, teammates and fans. He had to fulfill three tasks from the Captain before his apology was accepted.

Chapter 32

(Chan POV)

Two weeks later -- Knight Residence 

Chan decided to park his black Range Rover in front of his house. He was too tired and way too grumpy tonight to park his car in the garage. The flight that brought the BSFC team back to Bangkok tonight was delayed for more than two hours and it had ruined his plan. He should have taken Tankhun to dinner tonight as a token of gratitude to the Doctor, for helping him get his house ready for the housewarming party. 

It was such a relief that earlier when he called Tankhun to inform him about his delayed flight, the scientist didn't sound too annoyed. He just chuckled and said that Chan owed him two dinners instead of one, which the Captain immediately agreed to.

"I'll take you to dinner as much as you want, Tankhun, let alone two. Your wish is my command."

“Chan, please~ stop it, way too corny!” 

“I’ll call you as soon as I get home,” said Chan as he chuckled. 

“Hmm, ‘kay. Safe flight.” 

It was almost 10 and he should have given Tankhun a call right away, but the beautiful image before him, that greeted him as he stepped into the living room of his house, stunned him for a moment. Tankhun really was a miracle worker. Chan was grateful he decided to hear the Doctor's suggestion to choose this colorful Persian rug instead of the plain earth tone colored one, which was his initial choice.

"There has to be a pop of color in every room, Chan, or everything will seem monotonous."

And Tankhun was proven right. Chan immediately took his cell phone out of his pants pocket to call the doctor.

“Uhm… Chan?” 

“Oh, God, did I wake you?” asked Chan, who suddenly felt bad. “I’m so sorry, baby. Please, go back to sleep, we can talk tomorrow.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” replied Tankhun. “I’m waiting for your call, but then I fell asleep. It's quite busy today.”

“Please, tell me about your day. We won the match, by the way,” begged Chan as he took a seat on his new camel-colored three-seat sofa. 

Ah~ I love this~  

"I know, Cap, I watched the game.” 

Chan smiled. Tankhun never missed their match.

“Anyway, the store where we bought the sofa and carpet gave me a call, since they cannot reach you, and told me that they were ready to deliver all your orders. So I came over to your house this morning to wait for them and give the staff instructions on where to place the furniture. Hopefully, everything is according to your liking and imagination. They look really good if you ask me.”

"Yes, yes, everything looks wonderful, Tankhun, thank you so much,” said the Captain. “I can't believe that I forgot, this Saturday we are scheduled to play out of town. I’m so sorry to bother you with this."

"I gave you my words that I will help you, right? It’s OKAY,” stated Tankhun firmly. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“I know, but still…”

“No BUT…” Tankhun insisted, and Chan knew when to give in. 

“Okay. Thanks.” 

“Now, I believe everything is set for the party next Sunday, right? Have you called the caterer?” asked Tankhun. 

“I have.”

“Good, then we’re ready,” confirmed Tankhun. “I just need to bake one savory dish and one sweet dish for your party. You don’t mind, I'll bring Kim to the party, right?”

“Of course not, I’m thinking of inviting Kinn and Porsche too.”

“Ah… the more the merrier.”

“True. Umh, Tankhun…” 

“Yes?” 

“Please, don’t kill me, but I still need your help.”

“I thought we already covered all the rooms that we need for the party,” stated Tankhun, who started to list them. “Living room, dining room, kitchen, the back patio, and the pool. Did I miss anything?” 

“Please come here tomorrow morning around 10, I’ll show you myself,” replied Chan. “Please?”

“Okay,” answered Tankhun. “You owed me lunch too.” 

Chan chuckled. “Deal! Till tomorrow, baby.” 

“See ya~ good night.” 

******

(Tankhun POV)

Sunday Morning -- Knight Residence. 

Tankhun saw the condition of the main bedroom that was located on the second floor with his mouth and eyes wide open. It was that pitiful. How!? It had been more than two months since he had helped the Captain move. How was it possible that in this gigantic room, there was only a single-size mattress (not even a fucking bed frame!) tucked away to one side of the room on a small rug? How could he sleep like this!?

"Chan!?" cried Tankhun, turning his head to where Chan was standing. "I'm so sorry, but what the fuck!?"

"I know I'm the worst," replied Chan.

“Please, tell me there are clothes inside the walk-in closet.”

“Of course, you’re the one who sorted and packed my clothes at the penthouse, remember?” asked Chan. “You want a tour?”

“Yes, please.” 

This main bedroom was magnificent. How could Chan neglect it like this? Was the job as a Captain of one of the top football teams in the country truly super busy that he didn't have free time to take care of his personal affairs? If this were his room, Tankhun would use all his spare time to create the most amazing sanctuary for himself. 

When Tankhun entered the walk-in-closet area he felt like entering nirvana -- think the walk-in closet that Big made for Carrie but this one even more amazing -- AND Chan had not only one but two walk-in-closets separated by the biggest and most luxurious bathroom he had ever seen. Almost everything in the bathroom was double... Two sinks, two cabinets, a bathtub for two, a shower for two... Tankhun realized at that second that this master bedroom was intended for two people.

Fuck, this is super awkward.

Because, as much as he wanted to be the Captain -- boyfriend!!! there I’ve said it! --things were still unclear between the two of them. How could he help him decorate this space for him?

What to do... what to do...

“As you can see, I need help.” 

“But, Chan… this is your bedroom,” said Tankhun. “Don't you think it’s a bit too personal?” 

And this room is for TWO people!!!

“I trust you.” 

The way Chan looked at him that time when he said those three words, Tankhun couldn't explain it. But he'd be lying if he said those words didn't flatter him. He was so damn close to confessing his feelings right then and there.

Not now, Tankhun Theerapanyakun. Not yet.

Nevertheless, those words and that look Chan gave him just now, increased the percentage of possibility in Tankhun’s book like… A LOT. 

Just a bit more assurance, just a teeny tiny more. 

“Not trying to be nosy or anything like that, but I always think, even though the rest of your house is still a mess, at least this one room is all set. I mean, you just need to move the whole set in the main bedroom in your Pent-"

Chan grabbed Tankhun's hand and quickly cut him off, "Tankhun... I... let's just say before I moved into this house, I haven't slept in that bedroom for 10 months."

WHAT!?

"But-"

Chan looked paler, and Tankhun decided to stop himself from asking any further questions. Wild guessing attacked his mind at that moment, but Tankhun bit his tongue and just waited for Chan's explanation. 

Chan let out a long and heavy sigh before explaining, "The Penthouse... It's all Anna. She..."

Chan again let out a long and heavy sigh. 

"Chan, please... this is none of my business," said Tankhun, trying to lighten the mood. "You can tell me later on when you're ready."

"No, no, I need you to know about this," said Chan. "Give me a minute."

"I bought the penthouse because Anna refused to live in the old apartment that I used to share with my ex-fiancé. So, I let her take care of everything. From choosing the location, building, unit, decorating... everything. I didn't interfere at all."

Oh… 

"The first thing I did when I broke up with her called an architect and construction firm to build this house for me,” continued Chan, his voice much calmer now. “My dream has always been to live in a big house, far away from the crowds. I've had enough of living in tall buildings or living a city life. I just want some peace. So, here we are, and I think I just confessed how truly old I am to you."

Tankhun chuckled and squeezed Chan's hand that was still holding his hand. He felt, right now, that was the only thing he could do even though there were many other things he wanted to do to make Chan feel better. This 'fake dating' label really made Tankhun unable to act decisively, everything seems blurry. He wasn't sure where he stood, where the boundaries were, and he hated it, so fucking much. 

“Please say you’ll help me with this,” pleaded Chan, being so stubborn, and lately Tankhun found that Chan’s pleading eyes were almost as lethal as Kim’s teary eyes. 

God damn it! I have become such a softie! 

“Okay, fine, I’ll help you, BUT you have to tell me specifically what you want for your room. The vibe… the atmosphere,” said Tankhun firmly. “Your bedroom is your sanctuary, Chan.  Promise me, you’re gonna do the most work, I'll only give the minimum help."

"Deal!" replied Chan. “Shall we go?”

"Let’s go."

******

(Chan POV) 

Shopping with Tankhun was interesting and so much fun. 

He knew the best places, he had great taste and most importantly -- this was something that Chan honestly didn't expect from the Doctor -- he knew the value of money. He liked expensive things, that's for sure, but they had to have the quality and durability that was worth the money or else Tankhun would pay no attention to them at all. As someone who wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Chan really appreciates this.

“How about this one? Made of solid teak wood, so it is definitely strong and durable. The shape is simple and classic. It doesn't have a lot of trivial trappings... and maybe I watch too many Disney Princess movies, but I love four-poster beds."

Tankhun's long, slender fingers gripped one of the pillars of the bed and tugged it slightly to test its sturdiness. At that time, frankly, Chan’s thoughts and imagination were far... make that very far from movies about Disney Princesses, they were unmistakably indecent. Chan immediately averted his eyes from those fingers. Suddenly he felt hot.

“Well, well, well… isn't it the hottest couple of the year?”

Before Chan could turn around to face whoever was standing behind him at that moment, who had just made that rude statement, that said person had already made a second one that was even more coarse.

"Almost 31 years old and you're still crazy about those four-poster beds... what did you use to call them? Princess beds?"

The only thing that kept Chan from throwing his fists at this tall man's face was his responsibility to protect the good name of the BSFC, but that didn’t mean he couldn't open his mouth to defend Tankhun. But, of course, Tankhun beat him to it. 

“Still so childish and still failed to keep my interest,” stated Tankhun, ice cold. “So not worth my time. Let’s go, Chan.” 

Chan could hear Tankhun's footsteps behind him, but he still didn't take his eyes off the man in front of him. If this man dared to take a step, even one step, to hell with his reputation, Chan would break this guy's nose.

"Mr. Knight, as a man who has been in a relationship with Tankhun, I need to give you a warning."

"No, thanks, I don't need a warning. Just stay the fuck away from him," warned Chan as he took a step forward, his hands clenched.

The man then stepped back holding up his hand, "I still think you should know this... Don't get your hopes up when it looks like he can't keep his hands off you. Everyone who has ever dated him knows, that's the kiss of death. Cap, your time is running out."

"Shut.The.Fuck.Up.” 

"Ooh~ did I touch a nerve? Tik Tok Tik Tok..."

Chan saw red. His fists were so ready to crush the man in front of him. 

"Chan, let's go! He's not worth your time!" shouted Tankhun, bringing Chan back to his senses.

“Coming, baby.” 

Oh, Chan could hear that cad's mocking snort behind him, clearly, as he walked toward the Doctor, but he was not going to embarrass himself and most importantly, not embarrass Tankhun. They were in a public place, so he chose to ignore him. 

Tankhun held out his hand to Chan as he whispered, "What did he say to you?"

Chan took Tankhun's hand and squeezed it before replying, "Nothing important.”

“Are you sure? You look kinda upset.” 

“This is my scary face, I just gave him the warning to stay away from you."

Tankhun smiled and then wrapped his other arm around his waist. "Aw~ My Hero~"

Chan hugs Tankhun's body tightly -- too tight? -- but he really needed an anchor that moment for his brain and his heart just couldn't stop fighting.

... the Kiss of death...

How Chan wished he never heard a word out of that bastard's mouth. 

TBC

[atplblog]

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[udantravel]

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Jaipur is the capital of India’s Rajasthan state. It evokes the royal family that once ruled the region and that, in 1727, founded what is now called the Old City, or “Pink City” for its trademark building color. At the center of its stately street grid (notable in India) stands the opulent, colonnaded City Palace complex. With gardens, courtyards, and museums, part of it is still a royal residence.

Jaipur, the capital city of Rajasthan, India, is renowned for its rich history, vibrant culture, and stunning architecture. Here are some of the top tourist places to visit in Jaipur:

Amber Fort (Amer Fort): A magnificent fort located on a hilltop, known for its impressive architecture, stunning views, and intricate mirror work.

Hawa Mahal: Also known as the Palace of Winds, it is an iconic structure with a unique facade featuring numerous windows designed to allow royal ladies to observe street festivals while remaining unseen.

City Palace: A grand palace complex with a perfect blend of Rajput, Mughal, and European architectural styles. It houses museums showcasing artifacts and royal collections.

Jantar Mantar: A UNESCO World Heritage Site, it is an astronomical observatory built by Maharaja Jai Singh II in the 18th century, featuring various architectural instruments for measuring time, predicting eclipses, and tracking stars.

Jaigarh Fort: Situated on the Cheel ka Teela (Hill of Eagles), it is known for its massive cannon Jaivana, which is one of the largest cannons in the world.

Nahargarh Fort: Offering panoramic views of the Pink City, Nahargarh Fort is a historic fort built to protect the city.

Albert Hall Museum: Located in the heart of Jaipur, this museum houses an extensive collection of artifacts including paintings, sculptures, and decorative arts.

Jal Mahal: Situated amidst the Man Sagar Lake, this palace is an architectural marvel surrounded by the Aravalli hills, offering a picturesque view.

Galtaji (Monkey Temple): A temple complex with natural freshwater springs and pavilions, inhabited by a large colony of monkeys.

Chokhi Dhani: An ethnic village resort offering a glimpse into Rajasthani culture, featuring traditional performances, camel rides, and authentic Rajasthani cuisine.

These are just a few highlights of the many attractions Jaipur has to offer. The city is a treasure trove of history, culture, and architectural wonders, making it a must-visit destination for travelers.

[staticv1sion]

A story inspired by the painting by Juan Álvarez Cebrián

Rock on Camel Beach

Alani was only eight, but she felt much older. All her life she had been expected to take care of her dying mother while her father worked at the railroad, and she wasn’t allowed to leave the house. The laws of their town stated that girls couldn’t leave their property without their fathers, and her father only wanted a rest when he came back from work.

Luckily for Alani, her grandparents had saved up a lot of money that was eventually inherited by her father. All that to say that her property included part of the large Camel beach. Her mother, ever sick, would always lay down to rest around three o’clock, and Alani would run to the beach. The grainy sand would scratch its way up her legs, only to be washed swiftly away by the cold but comforting water crashing onto the land. Oh, how she adored the beach. Compared to it, the rest of her world felt so bland and boring.

On the fortunate days when her father agreed to take her to the town, it only disappointed the young girl. The wooden buildings all looked the same, and they towered over the streets (or maybe just over her, she was only a child). The dirt roads would be kicked up by the passing carriages, and would fall into her eyes and mouth, tasting like spoiled coffee beans. Inside the shops were better, but not as interesting as the beach. The candy store was her favorite, the vibrancy of the colors would leave her breathless as she sat and smelled in the sweet, enchanting scents. Her father never let her buy any candy.

Her least favorite store was the medicine store. The pills and bottles of mystery liquids all looked the same, and smelled like molasses or way too strongly of mint. The walls were a bland beige and the whole store felt cold. The medicine didn’t even help her mother, but her father insisted. Sometimes she felt like he didn’t want to admit that his wife had no chance.

Alani had no idea what tuberculosis meant, but it was bad, and her mother had had it for two years now. Everyday she was coughing and losing weight, sometimes she would begin to shake and sweat and Alani had to help her sit down. When her grandparents had died, her mother wasn’t sick, and eventually all that money was gone. Her father had to work to earn the money for the medicine himself.

One plain August day, Alani was sitting on the couch with her mother. Around her, the coffee table was covered in full and empty bottles or tissues and the wooden floors were splattered with the occasional blood drops her mother would cough up. From the couch, her mother continued to cough and shake.

“It normally doesn’t last this long does it?,” Alani asked, but she got no answer. Her mother turned onto her back, her breathing labored and her eyes beginning to become glossy.

“Sit here mom,” she said, starting to worry now. “Maybe I can go find Father.”

Jumping up, that is exactly what she did. It felt freeing to disobey the rules, even in this dire situation. She ran down those dirt roads, not minding so much when the dirt was kicked into her eyes. She continued sprinting until she reached the outskirts of her town, where she found her father hammering down a railroad track.

“What are you doing here?,” he asked, wiping his brow and setting down the hammer to walk over to her.

“Mother,” she panted, out of breath. “She’s..Her eyes..she..”

Her father didn’t seem to need more of an explanation, as he scooped her up into his arms and ran back the way she came. It felt nice, being held by him. Normally he was too busy to spend time with her or comfort her, but in his arms it was warm. It was almost like being at the beach.

They got home and her father set her down, running across the wooden floor to the sofa on which her mom was still laying. Alani’s father bent down and shook her mother, but there was no response.

The night ended, her mother was gone already. The doctors had taken her away, and she sat by her father in front of their fireplace for a few hours. For Alani, it hadn’t really sunk in. There was that thought that told her her mother couldn’t possibly be dead, and she would come back soon.

Eventually, around twelve am, her father fell asleep. Getting up, the young girl ran to the place that would truly give her comfort.

The beach silently greeted her like an old friend. The smell of the salt water in the air polluted her lungs, but she had grown to adore it. She ran towards the water, which was freezing since it was still dark out. The cold waves splashes against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Lifting up her dress, Alani went further into the water than she had before. Her waist was fully submerged before she decided to stop walking.

Relaxed, she leaned her head back and absorbed the night. It was so easy to forget about it all out here. Her worries were washed away as the waves thumped against her chest.

“One more minute,” she said. “And then I’ll leave.”

Taking her final step deeper into the water, a rock forced her to trip over. Getting caught in her own dress, she wasn’t able to resurface.

Alani drowned.

[resydesign]

The 5 Pillars of Modern Furniture Design That Bring Sophistication Home

As our lifestyles become more fast-paced and tech-driven, our home decor follows suit.

Large luxury sectional sofas and other modern furniture prioritize clean lines, neutrals, and functionality.

By harnessing these core principles, you can craft an elegant, inviting space.

Simplicity of Shape

Minimalist forms streamline rooms visually. Tables have straightforward rectangular or oval shapes. Chairs use slender profiles without excessive ornamentation.

This simplicity of structure focuses attention on negative space instead of distracting details. It also makes modern decor easier to integrate with various color schemes and accessories.

My friend Amy recently re-decorated using modern sectionals. The smooth shapes help open up her small living room, while the neutral grays mix effortlessly with pops of color in pillows and drapes.

Subtle, Neutral Palettes

Vibrant, oversaturated hues are out - and subdued neutrals are in. Modern palettes rely on blacks, whites, and natural tones like beige, brown, and gray to cultivate soothing, sophisticated environments.

Popular pairings include:

Creamy whites + charcoal grays

Textured beiges + chocolate browns

Camel tans + ecru off-whites

These muted color combinations keep the focus on shapes and textures. They also contribute to a clean, spacious aesthetic.

Natural Textures and Finishes

The materials of modern furniture take center stage, from polished metals and smooth leather to natural stone and wood grains. Modern textures add organic depth and dimension.

Metallics (brass, silver, bronze) have an elegant luster that accentuates any decor

Leathers and vinyls provide supple, cozy seating and remain easy to clean

Stone surfaces bring the outdoors in through organic veining in marble and quartzite

Wood elements showcase the mesmerizing patterns found in natural tree growth

My brother Sean's new mid-century living set has a beautiful wooden media console. The swirling knots and grains are like a miniature landscape!

Purpose-Driven Features

Today's on-the-go households need furniture that multitasks - sectionals with storage compartments, tables with built-in wireless charging, and so on.

By focusing on function, modern designs cater to modern lifestyles in discreet ways. This also reduces decorative clutter for a more minimalist look.

Clean Lines and Silhouettes

The ultimate trademark of contemporary style is uncluttered lines and edges. Sharp angles mingle with flowing curves and underscore the absence of excessive ornamentation.

From trim, tapered chair legs to the linear profiles of platform beds, modern silhouettes celebrate the sleek and streamlined. This creates an overall look that is both refreshing and space-maximizing.

Bring Modern Sophistication Home

The tranquil colors, intentional emptiness, natural textures, and clean outlines that characterize contemporary decor work together to craft serene, fashion-forward living spaces.

As you re-design your home, leverage these core aspects of modern furniture. Experiment with different shades of beige sectionals or add organic warmth with wood media consoles.

Use the tenets covered here as guides to help shape the soothing, tech-savvy haven of your dreams. The results will welcome both comfort and modern elegance across every square foot!

[thedecoratorsdenofficial]

🌿 Embrace Nature's Harmony with Camel Brown and Green 🌿

When it comes to creating a serene and organic atmosphere, these two colors work harmoniously together, bringing the beauty of nature indoors. 🏡💚

Camel brown brings warmth and a sense of earthiness, while green adds a refreshing and rejuvenating touch. Together, they create a perfect balance that will transform your space into a tranquil oasis. ✨🍃

To achieve a natural and rustic look, consider using camel brown as your base color. Think about incorporating it through furniture pieces like a cozy camel-toned sofa or a wooden coffee table. This will provide a warm foundation for your design. 🛋️🌾

Now, let's bring in the green! Introduce various shades of green through plants, leafy wallpaper, or accent pillows. These pops of color will infuse your space with a breath of fresh air and create a vibrant connection to the outdoors. 🌱🌿

To further enhance the natural vibes, incorporate natural materials such as rattan, jute, or bamboo. These textures will complement both camel brown and green, adding an organic touch to your design. 🌾🍃

Lastly, don't forget to accessorize! Add leafy artwork, botanical prints, or nature-inspired sculptures to complete the look. These finishing touches will tie the elements together and bring a sense of serenity to your space. 🌿🖼️

So, if you're looking to bring the tranquility of nature into your home, consider the captivating combination of camel brown and green. Let these colors create a harmonious sanctuary that connects you with the beauty of the outdoors. 🌿💚

Happy designing, lovelies 🌿✨

[emacgroup]

Chaise Sofa Lounger

[educationalinstitutesindia]

The Plastics Of Home Furnishings

If you have ever seen an episode of Boston Legal before, then you will notice the Bubble Club Chair that the show’s lead duo would sit on during the close of every episode as they puffed all of their legal stresses for the day away. If you are wondering if this seemingly homogenously solid piece of furniture is made up of cement, then you have it all wrong. It’s actually made of polyethylene or plastic. This gives the Bubble Club Chair a reputation for being able to be moved around without having to pull a muscle. Back to Black If you want to creatively make use of the Bubble Club Chair, then pick out one in a black color and match the rest of the furnishings you place into the room with the same color. To get rid of the very gothic effect that an all-black palette does, you can always add color using accessories such as throw pillows. A great complement for the color black would be a bright and cherry yellow. By judiciously adding the color, you can avoid having a living room that is too summery. Great Outdoors If you have a living room or sitting room which opens into a well-sheltered terrace, then using real furniture (and not the wicker types) would allow you to make your living room stretch out to the outdoors. However, issues such as rain and heat will always dissuade you from picking out expensive pieces of furniture only to expose them to the elements. A great alternative, on the other hand, would be the plastic Bubble Club Chair. Easy to clean, move and completely elegant-looking, you have a furniture piece which looks good enough to be placed inside your home in your terrace or patio. Poolside Breaking way from convention, you can have a very traditional-looking piece of furniture poolside without fear of your chair being ruined with water or perennial sunshine. Again, the plastic composition of the Bubble Club Chair gives it the freedom to be used just about anywhere. Unlike the first scenario, go for a white colored Bubble Club Chair. With their overstuffed look, they would seem very inviting to swimmers taking a break from the water. You can even get the sofa variety of the Bubble Club Chair and recreate your living room right outdoor. You can see great furniture nick scali furniture on twitter For a desert-like landscape, you can also choose the camel colored Bubble Club Chairs and Sofa.   The Bubble Chair creates a classic styling which is a good reason why you can make this as a focal point of the room. There are many magazines showing how you can creatively designate this chair in various parts of your home. If you have plans of enjoying a party on a Saturday night, or simply watching a movie, the chair provides the best comfort. When you want to make a statement, choose a stark color for your chair. Since there is wide range of colours, you can follow a theme. The chair is also perfect if you want a private spot in your house. You can place the chair at the end of a hallway or in a little nook by the window.   Carla Montez, the writer, loves suggesting practical tips about designs, space and furniture at home for Nick Scali. She has written several articles on home interiors, best furniture and tips about making the most of space. She always love writing about various furniture perfect for homes and gives practical advice to home shoppers. Read the full article

[stylenthensome]

My time in india🇮🇳

I started my journey in Goa. This place was a tropical paradise, but I knew that it was not the real india. There were boat trips, dolphin watching, beach dogs with matted hair, and eating delicious fruit for breakfast. There were lots of holiday makers there and it attracts a crowd of ‘tourists’ rather than travellers.

Then I took the step to go to pushkar in north india. I knew I was going to get the ‘culture shock’ everyone had told me about, in Goa you didn't quite feel it. Goa was a hippie vibe, lots of tourists and they speak a South Indian language. Spiritually, I didn't experience anything profound there - the vibe I got from most people was that religion was a part of their life, and culture, but they did not follow it profusely. Nevertheless, I got a taste of the ‘intoxication’ of india, even if it was a bit more toned down version. 

Coming to pushkar was like a shock to the system, the sounds, smells and taste were all more intense. Upon arriving for holi festival we were greeted by crowds of men gushing into small lanes, all high energy and with lots of powdered colour on their clothes and faces. It was overwhelming, and the idea I had in my head about this festival was very different to the reality. We missed the main festivities but went out in the early evening to explore. This was the kind of festival where everyone gets involved, even the street sellers, and the animals too. 

“At the Holi Festival, participants throw powder dye into the air, covering all in attendance with vibrant colors. In a religious sense, the colors are rich with symbolism and have multiple meanings: they can mean a vibrant new life and even represent sin in a way. For some, washing off the dye at the end of the day can mean new commitment to live well, as cleansing oneself of evils and demons”

Jaisalmer - they call this place the golden city. Upon arriving I was greeted by the hotel staff, transported on a motorbike and then slept the night in to a small hotel room. I quickly realised I could get a much better hotel experience, so I started looking around. I landed in this hotel called ‘moustache’ a kind of 21st century mini palace, the walls made out of ‘sandstone’ (most of the buildings there are made out of this material), the concierge showed me a room that had an amazing bed mantle, beautiful sofa and it was like something out of a Disney movie. I felt like a princess. But not just princess in the ‘luxurious’ type, like this room was really royal, and special. I felt like I was living out some kind of jasmine Aladdin fantasy. 

There were many havelis and horses around , in the fort we were able to see the city from above, peer out into the golden landscape, whilst the heat was almost unbearable. 

Going into the desert was like living my inner child's wildest fantasies. We rode on a camel into the sunset and slept under the stars. I kept staring at this one star that was shining so bright. Every time I looked at it I would get emotional. I had never seen seen stars so clearly before, one moment I was lying down, taking it all in, and then I saw a shooting star across the sky. It was a moment of magic. The whole night felt like a drug trip, completely intoxicated by the beauty surrounding me, I was speechless.

Seeing the Taj Mahal was an experience ill never forget. Upon arriving inside the gates leading up to the building, I stopped and stared. I was at once mesmerised by its beauty. 

Then I headed north for Rishikesh, a mountain town that echos the Himalayas, being up in the mountains felt like living on a cloud. Every single place in india felt like a different country within a universe. it was in Rishikesh where I found my creative flow, beginning to paint trippy sacred geometry that gave out ‘the good vibes’ with the help of the workshop instructor, I was able to find my own expression, not a copy of someone else’s. I was able to work through inner criticism and self sabotage. I became a painter. 

I met a guru in Rishikesh, he said that everyone has to find their own truth in life, and their own answers. He asked me “have you seen God?” I could not answer, and was overwhelmed with emotion. Ide never been confronted with such a raw question before. I got into some deep thought after that. I still dont know the answer to that question. I have felt God. In people, in nature, and the stars, like in the desert. I have spoken to God. There have been times when life has felt so difficult, it does not feel like I am doing it alone without some kind of help. 

Meeting the guru was an interesting experience, but I would say that he didnt have any insight to offer than any other random person I would meet on the street in india. The people in india live from their heart, not their head. They worship God, not money. And they value happiness over materialism. Every single person I met had something to teach me. And I was thankful for every interaction. 

Backpacking ttraveling is really hard. But i'm glad I do it. I get to experience the real country, not the watered down, tourist version of it. 

There have been shocking moments in india that have made me so thankful for all I have. And not just grateful in the sense of ‘I should be grateful, so I am’ well and truly feeling gratitude in my bones for every moment.

I have met people with no legs, no eyes, village children with no toys to play with, living in mud huts, with huge smiles on their faces. Finding every single possible reason to be happy. I have met people whose lives are filled with constant struggle, and yet they still find a way to laugh about it. Words cant even begin to describe how inspired I feel because of india. 

[micro-expressions]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Tan Striped Texture Corduroy Decorative Farmhouse Luxury Soft Pillow Cover Set.

[spongki]

unavoidable afternoon torpor, camels, and the color yellow.

What was only meant to be my regular late afternoon siesta turned into a 15-hour back-aching slumber. It's by far the longest I've been asleep, if my memory serves me right. I'm a known sleepy guy, alright. It's just never like this. I didn't even get to tell my dog good night.

I took a "nap" at around 4 PM and momentarily jerked out of sleep to turn on the air conditioner about an hour or two later, maybe around 5 or 6, because that's the time I usually turn it on to consume less electricity and stuff. I wonder if anyone else does that. It's not that strange of a thing to do, is it? To let yourself suffer in the suffocating heat for the greater chunk of the day because it's the only way to keep the bills down? I don’t even know (and don’t care) whether it’s effective or not. Anyway, it's funny how my brain knew well enough what my body so badly needed even half-asleep, like it's muscle memory. The following hours after that I had bouts of panic-induced lucid dreams while my back was soaked in cold sweat—completely normal, it happens—but I managed to make a mental note telling myself that I need to gather as much sleepy as I can otherwise I'd have to put up with being awake during the remainder of the night until the butt crack of dawn where I have nothing to do besides light a cigarette and listen to Strokes' Room On Fire and if I'm really going through it, maybe run through their entire discography as well. You really shouldn't do so much of a thing if you don't want to end up hating it, but I'm left with no choice. It's not that better in the morning. I really did not want to wake up. Not even until 7 AM, which is an hour that indicates I'm already sleeping in and ugh my head is going to regret this.

Being awake when the sun is up also means tedium. It means trying to check off tasks that I've shelved to do for later when later was two Fridays ago and the tasks in question could be accomplished within fifteen minutes. What I do is sit and think about how grueling that is instead of actually doing it, then I move onto other important things which I have no success in at all, like doing that one Buzzfeed recipe I've been meaning to try for a long time but lack the right ingredients so now I'm left with a strange concoction full of substituted stuff that no one wants to eat. Then, the unavoidable afternoon torpor, as Call Me By Your Name's main character Elio once mentioned it:

"My father, who was reserved and shy in private, loved nothing better than to have some precocious rising expert in a field keep the conversation going in a few languages while the hot summer sun, after a few glasses of rosatello, ushered in the unavoidable afternoon torpor."

He described siestas so beautifully. Too bad I'm not in a Mediterranean villa, sun-basked and mildly toasted in the right parts, surrounded by glasses of lush Italian wines and trees that give just the right amount of breeze to sweetly lull me to sleep. Oops. Did I get too into it?

Because if we're talking about sultry, we can talk about the less peachy reality that's closer to the literal meaning of the word, which is lying down in front of an electric fan trying its best as it blows hot, hot heat into your face while your body slowly melts into a sludge that seeps into the sofa. You anxiously chew over with yourself - "do I even deserve this siesta?" Hey, José Rizal himself said siestas were the Filipinos' remedy for our country's hot climate. So maybe you do deserve it. But maybe you don't, because he meant to say that to people who did hard labor under the burning sun, and you haven't exactly done anything productive to give yourself that reward. Other than swatting pesky mosquitoes buzzing in your ear, maybe, and you don't know whether that eases the monotony or it just plainly irritates the fuck out of you. Oh, and that one annoying show that your parents like is on TV again. Only this time, and I'm being for real, it gets cut off midway and you're fucking delighted but not really, because it's apparently to make way for the "president's" state of the nation address (The Marcoses have pissed off my parents in more ways than one, but interrupting their favorite telenovela, really? There's no redeeming yourself from that.)

It all just feels so yellow. I love yellow when it’s not overbearing - when you're not constantly enclosed with the warmth it emits. Yellow feels sticky. Humid. I sluggishly walk around my house with pellets of sweat in places I didn't even know were possible. Yellow is also kind of blinding. My curtains don’t do enough to shield my eyes from the sunlight, but it’s partially my fault for not making it a habit to wake up early. After smoking Marlboro menthols for a while, I bought a pack of yellow Camels just to try something new and I hated it. Why do I hear so many good things about this brand? Yellow is parching. Unpleasantly warm, the kind that gives you goosebumps. Yellow reminds me of how much I try to force sleep and how it’s the only sober form of escapism I can consume. I’m always deliberately getting myself struck with lethargy, putting the blame on the unapologetic heat of the blazing sun - on the color yellow - just so I can postpone for the dreaded tomorrow to come.

The next thing you know I'm in my bedroom, A/C on blast, writing this post. Lather, rinse, repeat. Mundanity is far from a foreign concept to me but the heat just so greatly exacerbates the agony of it. The least I can do is write about it.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Old Habits

Frank Adler x Reader

Chapter 7

Masterlists Chapter 6 Summary: Three years after she left Frank and Mary behind, Y/n returns to Florida for the wedding of mutual friends, what ensues may prove that like old habits, some feelings just don’t die. Chapter Summary: Y/n and Frank come face to face a month after their friends' wedding. Warnings- Angst

One month later.  Shedding her coat as she stepped through the front door, Y/n draped the camel colored garment on the coat rack while wiping off the wet soles of her shoes on the welcome mat. With a tired huff, she slid her bag off her shoulder and absently set it on the table in the foyer, discarding her keys in the little ceramic bowl next to it. Tiredly, she staggered through the front hall towards the living room, getting her phone out of the front pocket of her pale blue scrubs on her way there. 

Unlocking the device, she found that there was a couple texts from Amanda, who’d just returned from her and Jack’s London honeymoon, probably relating to the conversation they’d been having off and on throughout the day. Tapping the notification as she slumped to the sofa, kicking off the shoes in the process- sure enough, it was related to their ongoing conversation.

Just talk to him, please. You’re both miserable and maybe it can be good for both of you. 

I hate seeing my friends like this. 

Reading her texts, Y/n quickly conjured up a response, promising Amanda that she’d think about reaching out to Frank. The truth was though, she’d been doing a lot more than thinking about talking to Frank. Atlanta had stopped feeling like home ever since she’d returned from Florida and all she could think of was all the little moments they’d shared over her last visit. Everyday, lying to herself was getting harder.

She wasn’t okay without him- she never was.

Leaving- the first time and the second- was a mistake. 

More and more, Y/n was getting the sense that she should have fought for him, the way he’d fought for her the first time around. She should have caught him alone after seeing him and Bonnie in the lobby and confessed that she still loved him, and that even if she’d gotten through the past three years without him, it had been hell. He deserved to know that she still kept her favorite picture of their family at her bedside and that he and Mary crossed her more times than she could ever stand to count. 

Frank deserved to know that even if she’d wasted all that time pretending that she'd moved on, there wasn’t any length of time that could pass that would consequent her getting over him. 

As Y/n threw her head against the back of the sofa, her phone went off again. With a lazy sigh, she lifted the phone and glanced at the screen once more, finding that time, she had an email. It was a confirmation message from an airline, letting her know that she’d successfully booked a plane ticket to Florida. 

Now, all she had to do was figure out what she was going to say. 

Saturday’s usually meant spending the afternoon down at the beach. It didn’t matter how many times he and Mary had been there, she never failed to enthusiastically gather her bucket for sea shell collecting and swipe the sunscreen off the bathroom counter. Frank swore if she didn’t remember the sunscreen, they’d both just get awful sunburn; before she’d left, Y/n had always been the one that packed for the beach trips. A bag with sunscreen, extra water bottles, snacks and a little “emergency kit” was always her thing, though Mary had watched her do it enough times to pick up bits of it on her own. 

“Ready Mar?” Frank called from his bedroom, closing up the plastic buttons of his light blue button up before grabbing his sunglasses off the top of his untidily packed dresser and hooking them in the pocket of the shirt. 

“Yeah!” Just after she answered, there was a knocking on the door that was easily heard through their small abode. “Frank,” Mary called, her small voice etched with the purpose of someone a little older, “I’m getting the door.” 

“Do not do that,” he warned firmly, putting some haste into his step, Frank hustled out of his bedroom. Even if he did now have full and legal custody of Mary, she knew that answering the door was off limits, solely because of stranger danger. Tripping over one of her toys, Frank grabbed the nearby cupboard to stop himself from falling. Of course, like every other kid her age, the concept of putting away her things seemed foreign to his niece. “Mary, do not get-”

Upon reaching the front of the house, Frank stopped in his tracks, though it was not entirely because Mary had blatantly disobeyed him, but also in part because of who she’d opened the door to. 

“You’re back,” Mary looked up at her with big eyes, and swallowing thickly, Y/n gazed down at her. In silence, the three of them just stood there, and for a minute, Frank was worried that Mary would lash out the way she had when he’d gone to get her from her foster parents. When her reaction was entirely different though, he gasped. Instead of firing a slew of untrained punches, Mary flung herself into Y/n’s legs, reaching upwards to hug her hips. “Why’d you leave me?” 

Clearly surprised, Y/n sucked in a sharp breath before succumbing to her knees to reciprocate the embrace, “Look how big you’ve gotten,” she rasped tearily, smoothing one hand over Mary’s hair as she used the other to rub her back affectionately.

“I’ve missed you,” Mary said when they pulled away a little, though still holding each other. 

“I’ve missed you too, Wiggles,” Y/n pressed her thumb to Mary’s nose, and Frank easily recalled that both the pet name and the gesture had been little things between the pair. Mary had been such a squirmy baby, earning herself the nickname in just her first few months with him and Y/n, while the thumb on her nose had somehow become a little, sign of affection they developed in their time together.

“Mary, where’s your hat, go get your hat,” Frank swallowed thickly, taking a couple steps forward. He hated to break up their reunion, but having them reintroduced like that wasn’t right, Mary didn’t need to have her hopes built up only for them to be broken down again. 

And neither did he.

Looking over at him, she frowned deeply, “But Frank-”

“Go,” he urged, touching the top of her head before pointing towards the inside of the house.

“Fine,” she grumbled, begrudged. Folding her arms petulantly, she turned and marched inside, stopping when she was through the doorway to glance back at Y/n, “Don’t leave again, okay?”

Y/n sucked in a breath, managing a faint smile, “I won’t.”

With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, Frank stepped closer to the door, waiting until Mary was safely out of earshot before speaking. “You shouldn’t have said that to her.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that he was still angry about what she’d done after the wedding; made him think that there was still a shot for them only to disappear the next morning, as if it had all meant nothing. 

As she blinked slowly, Frank recognized the shine in her eyes as tears, and wrapping her arms around herself, Y/n sniffled, “Say what?” 

Frank scoffed, “That you’re not gonna leave, because that is all you do.”

“That is not fair,” Y/n argued, voice breaking. 

“But leaving without explanation, twice, was?” Licking his lips, he glanced backwards to the inside of the house, “Do you have any idea what you did to her when you just disappeared like that?”

“I......I know it must have been horrible for her, and I know I shouldn’t have come here like this but I wanted to talk-”

“Oh, so now you wanna talk?” Frank’s words were laced with venom and while he absolutely abhorred being mad at her, he didn’t think he could help it. None of it felt fair,  and if he was being honest, the whole thing was beginning to seem like a cruel game, and he’d been played one too many times. 

Y/n furrowed her brows at his furious question, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She folded her arms defensively across her chest, she straightened her back. 

“It means that I thought things would be different between us after that night, but you skipped out on me, again and I cannot keep doing this with you.” “Well what was I supposed to do? Stick around and ruin your relationship?” Y/n huffed, tuning her face away for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “And for the record, I waited. But then you didn't show up and when I went down to the lobby, you were getting ready to leave with your girlfriend.”

Frank scrunched his nose, “Wha-no. No, that is not what you saw-”

“Don’t tell me what I saw,” Or didn’t see, in the moment, Y/n was not interested in specifics. 

“Fine,” now loosely mirroring her stance, he held her gaze, with his defiant pools of blue, “Then you misinterpreted what you saw.”

“What?” Suddenly, Y/n’s voice was quiet and Frank felt guilty for yelling the way he had.

“What you saw in the lobby was probably me and Bonnie breaking up,” he explained softly, ducking his head, “I just thought that if I came back to you with that whole part of it out of the way, you’d hear me out better. Even though you had someone else.”

“I didn’t have anyone else,” Y/n clarified quickly and Frank confessed to eavesdropping on her conversation during the reception, “Oh that….that was,” she chuckled dryly, “I actually broke it off that same night…..cause-”

“Got my hat, Frank!” Mary popped out from the cover of the door, sure enough wearing her hat with the front pulled down over her face a little. “Do you wanna come with us to the beach, Y/n?”

“You still go to  the beach on Saturdays,” wearing the first hints of a breathless smile, she glanced at Frank. 

He was about to respond when Mary interjected urgently, “Please Y/n,” she put on her best puppy eyes, “It’ll be so much fun.”

“Uh….” Y/n was visibly hesitating, “Only if its okay with Frank,” and just like that, she shoved the entire thing on him. 

Undoubtedly, his decision would greatly impact the rest of the evening. Saying yes would facilitate the opportunity for them to properly finish their conversation, and would obviously make Mary very happy. But Frank didn’t think he’d be doing right on her if he let Y/n continue to duck in and out of her life.

But Mary was giving him those eyes. The same eyes that led to them adopting Fred. 

“Alright,” he caved, secretly hoping he wasn’t making another mistake.

Mary had insisted that they spend some time together collecting seashells, and while she and Y/n strolled along the shore, where the waves washing the sand would touch their feet, pulling sand from under their bare soles as the water receded, she’d explained that she still put them in their special jar. It was a little habit Y/n had encouraged when Mary was a toddler; they’d go to the beach, sometimes together, sometimes with Frank, and gather any shell, sand dollar or small rock that was pretty or unusual and then put it in a jar they kept as a decoration in the living room. That used to be her favorite part of her days off. 

“Did you miss me when you were gone?” Mary peered, glancing up at Y/n as they slowly threaded along the shore. Her small hand held on tightly to Y/n’s, who couldn’t help but notice how much Mary had grown- seven was small, but not near as small as four. 

She couldn’t believe that she’d missed so much. Mary’s first day of school. The custody battle, which Amanda had relayed to her in great detail- it had broken her heart when Frank had relinquished custody of Mary and she’d been happy from afar to hear he’d gone back for her. 

“Of course I missed you, Wiggles,” Y/n licked her lips, easily recalling how many times she’d thought about Mary and Frank; the family she’d left behind and the life she still missed. “I thought about you everyday.”

“Then why didn’t you call?” She frowned deeply, stopping suddenly, “You just disappeared,” her lips were wobbling and it pained Y/n to know that she’d hurt Mary so badly. “I thought you stopped loving me.”

Abruptly, Y/n sank to her knees, not caring if her jeans got wet. Affectionately, she took hold of Mary’s fragile shoulders and urged the child to turn towards her, “I could never, ever stop loving you. Couldn’t even dream of it,” her voice broke at the end and she teared up a little, “It’s just….when I left…..I was really hurting, and I didn’t think I could take care of you and Frank the way you deserved. But that was a mistake, and it was not your fault.”

“It was a mistake?” Mary sniffled, using the back of her free hand to wipe her tear stained cheeks.

“The biggest one I ever made,” for a split second, Y/n glanced at Frank, who’d hung back near his truck, sitting on the trunk of a coconut tree that had fallen before they’d even moved to Florida, beer in hand and eyes cast towards the horizon. “And I’ve regretted it everyday.”

“And you won’t leave again?” She prodded hopefully. 

“Never for that long,” Y/n reassured. She’d already decided, albeit impulsively, that it was high time she moved back to St. Petersburg, she’d already started updating her CV so it would be ready to send to hospitals in the area and looking into apartments. Even if she and Frank didn’t get back together, Y/n wanted to be close to Mary again, if he’d allow it. “I’d have to go back for my things, but I’ll come back- and I mean that.”

Mary hesitated for a moment, before asking, “Promise?” 

Y/n nodded, pulling her in for a warm hug, “I promise,” she kissed the side of Mary’s head. “I should go talk to Frank,” she glanced at him again before pecking Mary’s forehead standing and dusting the wet sand off her pants, “But stay close, okay?” When Mary nodded, Y/n set off towards Frank, wrapping her arms around herself. 

As she drew closer, Y/n caught her lower lip between her teeth, secretly hoping he’d cooled off a little since their spat at the house. Upon seeing her trudge nearer, feet sinking in the soft, warm sand with every step, Frank lifted his elbows off his thighs and sat up straighter, taking a swing of his beer. “She missed you. A lot,” he gestured towards Mary with his bottle. 

“I missed her too,” Y/n dusted off part of the trunk before sitting on it, leaving about six inches between them, not daring to steal a glance his way yet. They were quiet for a while after that, until Y/n remembered what they’d been talking about back at the house, “I broke up with him because….I was only with him to forget about you. But its hard to forget you when you’re right in front of me. And he’s married.”

His head snapped in her direction and Frank took a while before responding, “Married,” he whistled lowly, “That is not like you….at all,” he might have been an authority on the matter, considering he knew her almost as well as she knew herself. 

“I know,” Y/n hummed, “I think that’s why I was with him,” she shook her head, “Because being part of me involves being with you. When I left the first time,” she bent her head to look at her tangled fingers, “It was because…..when I looked at you and her all I could think of was that part of our family was missing. We should have had our baby, she should have had her cousin. I was sad and disappointed and angry. I thought leaving meant I could get away from that. You know? Maybe a new place and new people would help me shake it off. But I lied when I said it helped,” she glanced down at the sand pitifully, “It didn’t, it kept following me. By the time I’d realized that I made a mistake, I figured it was too late to come back,” she sighed, continuing after a pause, “Then, when I saw you with Bonnie, I told myself it was definitely too late, I wished I’d waited a little longer though,” when she turned to him, she discovered that Frank was looking at her, brows knitted with intrigue and lips pressed together, “I’m sorry I left, both times. I regret it, and I miss you and I’d love if we could try again.” 

"I have thought about getting back together since the moment you left," Frank admitted, "I think....I think part of being me involves being with you too. I'm tired of being mad at you, I'm tired of wondering where we'd pick things up from," he exhaled audibly, glancing down at his bottle, where the short nail of his thumb was digging at the edge of the label and his words made her heart quicken. Was he going to turn her down? “I'm just tired of not being with you," Frank paused and Y/n held her breath, "Will you put your ring back on?” He lifted his head to meet her eyes and his question surprised her, though, Y/n knew her answer from the moment she registered his question. 

“I’d really like that,” she scooted closer, until her knee was touching his, “Are you sure it won’t be confusing for her?” Y/n nodded towards Mary. 

Frank huffed a chuckle, “The only person that wants us back together more than, well, us, is Mary.” 

Y/n laughed quietly, sighing contentedly when Frank casually slung his arm over her shoulders, “Are we back together?” She scrunched her nose, tipping her chin to meet his eyes, “Just like that?”

“I don’t see why not. Unless that’s not-”

Leaning up, she cut his words off with a chaste kiss on his lips, “That’s exactly what I want,” she smiled when they broke, "We have a lot to figure out, but I love you and I want this to work.”

“I love you too and I know we can fix this,” Frank kissed her again, and when they separated again, Y/n leaned her head against his shoulder. Though, the private moment of quiet was short lived when Mary approached them, handing Frank her bucket of seashells before taking both their hands and urging them up so they could all go walking again. Standing between them, holding both their hands, Mary led them down the gentle slope, towards the shore, occasionally jumping so Y/n and Frank would swing her playfully.

Just like that, they felt like a family again, and all the heartache from the past three years was muted; as long as they were together, they’d figure it out. 

*****

Tagging- @patzammit @dearmasaddict @swthxrry @flowerjewels @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @onenightnorth @royalwritersoftheuniverses @sn0wpiercer @elrw24

[calumxkisses]

Sweet Creature | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: i think implied smut?

summary: request - Heeyyy, can you do one, where they have a big fight and they are in quarentine, and they stop talking to each other, and the sleep in different rooms, with cal... kiss from brazil 🇧🇷

a/n: this is one of my favorite song! let me know what you think about it! i hope you enjoyed it ;)

you should read this imagine while listening to: sweet creature

➳

“What the hell is wrong with you?” a scream comes out of your lungs. Your face has turned red, your head hurts and you feel your heart pounding. Your throat is now dry and you feel your nails sticking into the palm of your hand.

What Calum notices, however, are the tears running down your face and the pain behind your eyes. What hurts him the most, though, is knowing he is the cause of your pain. He would like to hug you, tell you that he is sorry, that he loves you and that he doesn't even remember why you are fighting, but his pride prevents him from being the person he would like to be. The person you are in love with.

“All you do is whine.” he screams out, rolling his eyes and letting out a snort.

This discussion was the straw that broke the camel's back, filled by being forced to stay at home, by a canceled tour and canceled parties but, above all, by the concern of a world that is in chaos, with a fatal virus that spreads like wildfire.

He is worried, he feels the burden of not having to disappoint anyone, of being a good person who says the right things, of being a child who cares about their parents who live on the other side of the world and cannot go to visit, reassure, and that he can only see through a mobile phone screen.

“I have a right to be angry, you know that, right?” Your voice calms down a bit, but anger still runs through your veins. You walk up and down the room, with one hand on your forehead and being careful not to step on the broken glass of the fallen vase.

Calum has spent the last few weeks in the studio, out in the garden practicing, or locked in a room, anywhere but with you. He preferred to wake up early and go to sleep late, feel cold instead of holding you and skipping meals to avoid being with you.

For the first time in days, you get a good look at him: his hair has grown, as has the beard surrounding his face, he has terrible dark circles and the vein on his neck comes out prosperous, underlining how much he is screaming.

You felt abandoned, alone, left on the sidelines, and your feelings were amplified by the impossibility of going to someone, just to escape from that situation, to be held by someone else or just to talk over a coffee with a friend.

The only thing you could have done, was to ask him why, what you had done to deserve such treatment, and to spend some time together. And that’s where the scream started.

Tears roll down your face and you run your hand under your eyes to wipe them away. If you didn't notice them before, now the pinch caused by their wake has become hard to ignore.

“Are you going to cry now? God, you’re making me regret being with you. I really wish you weren’t born.”

Calum feels the pain it caused you before even reading the expression on your face. He puts his hand in front of his mouth in hopes of being able to block the words, but they have already left his lips and have come straight into your ears, getting stuck under your skin and breaking even the last pieces of the broken heart you have left.

His words hit you like a bolt from the blue. Arguing often leads to saying unthinkable words and among all the things you've been yelling at each other in the last hour, some bad words have certainly escaped, but nothing so terrible.

You feel a pain in your chest never felt before, deep and intense, and even the tears stop flowing. You inhale deeply, seeking relief in a breath of air and waiting for your body to react in any way, all is better than feeling full of pain. The room starts spinning, your head feels full and empty at the same time, and your legs struggle to bear the weight of your body.

Calum carefully scans your face, looking for any reaction from you to understand how much your mind has absorbed his words. His stress, his worries have led him to be a different person and the fear that you may leave him has terrified him, but his insecurities have done the opposite of what one expects, making he walk away from you and treating you coldly, and now he fears that he is really on the verge of being alone, with his broken heart in his hands, ready to mend every wound himself.

You didn’t deserve this.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not with you.” You whisper, lifting your face and looking him straight in the eye. The words he used, the coldness of his tones and the loneliness in which he left you have piled on top of each other on your chest, making it difficult for you to even breathe. You need time, space, whatever helps you figure out what to do.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a shaky voice. His eyes are glossy, his hands are shaking and his face has lost color. His heart carries so much goodness and you know it wasn't his intention to hurt you, but his words were like stab wounds and you need to take care of them now.

You don't want to leave, and not because you can't take a plane, but because Calum means too much to you and leaving is not an option to consider. If it ever ends up between you, after all you've been through, it should be in a more dignified way and not because of a stupid fight and insincere words.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room for a while and then we’ll see what to do.” Is all you can say and all you can do.

“So you’re not leaving?”

“I don’t think so, at least not now.”

Silence.

And that silence means everything and nothing.

You pick up the pieces of your shattered heart and, after casting one last look at the boy in front of you, you take refuge in a room that doesn't belong to you. The air in the guest room is different, you can't breathe the love that characterizes every corner of yours and Calum's and even the sheets seem different, cold, painful. You put a hand through your hair and lean on the door, slowly sliding towards the floor and letting go of your frustration.

Calum closes his eyes and puts his hands to his face as his body slumps onto the sofa behind him. The house reigns in silence, the only audible sound is your sobs in another room and, before he knows it, he starts crying too. He doesn't care about wiping his face or stopping the moans that come out of his mouth, he deserves to feel awful and humiliate himself like that, the guilt is devouring him and he just thinks about how he wishes he could disappear, to make your life easier.

When you first met, he knew you were the right person from the first look you gave him. Behind your eyes, deep in the irises, there was a whole world, made of kindness, love and joy. You had your demons, but the strength you emanated made it clear that you were able to overcome them, even without knowing it. A world that he wanted to discover, with delicacy and patience, and in which he wanted to live.

But what he feared most was bringing darkness into the light you emanated, turning your smiles into tears and your heart into a mass of sharp pieces.

He had told you, while you were eating some heated pizza on a rainy morning, your legs were on his and your face on his shoulder. And you had caressed his face, wiping away the dirt on his lip with your thumb, assuring him that you would have love him anyway and that you would have happily shared some of your light, and then you had kissed him, and that kiss tasted like tomato sauce and love, a combination you still love with all your heart.

And now, the only thing he can do, besides pitying himself, is wondering if you're regretting sharing your joy with him, if you'd rather stay full of light instead of welcoming his demons. And he fears your answer is yes.

Duke rubs his face on his leg, asking for scratches but also showing his affection. He doesn't know what happened and Calum wonders if the dog, who loves you more than any other person has crossed the threshold of your home, would look at him differently knowing that he broke the heart of the person he loves most.

If so, as his mind is trying to convince him, he couldn't handle it. He would not be able to live knowing that he has let down another being he cares about. Because he cares about you, but it is difficult for him to show it, the fear of rejection is stronger than he would like.

So, he lowers himself a little and gently strokes the dog, hoping to be able to receive that affection he is so afraid of losing.

As Calum's world shatters before his eyes, you take care to gently reassemble what's left of yours. You're still on the floor, getting up takes too much energy and a motivation that you can't find.

How you feel about the guy down the hall cannot be described in words, there is no way to describe what his gaze makes you feel, the way his words reassure you or how his love warms your heart up. It just works like this. Your love does not need big gestures or difficult words and never like now, it is better to absorb the silence and be lulled by the air.

Perhaps it would have been better to remain silent, let the cold of his words slip on you and learn to live in the loneliness in which he left you, but you couldn't go on like this. Not fighting would have meant not caring about him or your relationship and that's exactly the opposite of how things are. He had to know how you felt and what you were missing.

The sweet sound of his voice or the warmth of his skin are essential for you, not only on a love level, but in the daily routine of your life. A routine that had changed, which was no longer full of joy and smiles, light and perfume, but of demons that wandered undeterred around the walls of your home, ready to bring the cold into your souls.

And that routine, once full of love, was now non-existent. No more words had been said between you, no meal had been eaten together and your bed had forgotten what love meant. The stars, ever present witnesses of the passion that surrounded your bodies, were now always absent, covered by gray clouds and black skies. Even the moon, which guards all lovers, shone with a paler and more blurred light.

The moon gave way to the sun, the grass grew and the days alternated on the calendar. And yet, it seemed to you that you were still still that afternoon. Sure, breathing had become less difficult and the tears had stopped flowing on your face, but even in the middle of spring the coldness brought chills on your body.

You have no idea what he is doing, occasionally you see the shadow of his shoes behind the door of the guest room or you hear broken melodies coming from the studio, but his face becomes more and more unknown.

You spend your days studying, working, playing with Duke or reading your favorite books. You wake up late and go to sleep early, hoping to feel less lonely.

The truth, however, is that you miss him immensely, like water in the desert or milk after eating spicy food. You need to be able to get lost in his eyes or just hold his hand. The headache meds don't work like his kisses on your forehead, and no number of blankets could bring you the same warmth that a hug from him gives off.

You feel so pathetic to need him by your side, but after so many years of loneliness, he was able to convince you that you were worthy of being loved just like everyone else and, specifically, that he would love you more than anyone else. And he had done it, always and anyway, for the sake of the joyful news and the bad of your depression, he had always been there, ready to show you that you were worth it.

He wants to do it, he wants to continue to hold you and to tell you how beautiful you are, how honored he feels to be the keeper of your heart and the champion of your love, but he believes that no apology would bring serenity to your sky.

What is he supposed to do? No words would express the humiliation he feels whenever he thinks back to your fight and his behavior, no hug or kiss would bring love into your broken heart.

He spent his nights awake, the insomnia caused by his thoughts was making it impossible for him to live. The table seemed too big and the bed too uncomfortable, the bass was always out of tune even as he spent hours adjusting its strings and no melody seemed catchy enough to lift your mood in the other room. He knew that when you were sick, listening to him play brought some peace to your troubled world, but now no sound would chase the bad weather away.

None of his gestures would be enough to show how bad he feels. Nothing can express the pain he feels and the regret of his words.

However, 3 years of relationship is enough for him to know what makes you smile. There is one song in particular, in the immense repertoire that is your music library, that you love to hum and listen to when the silence is too loud.

So, wearing his best shirt and trying to fix the clump of his hair, he sits down at the piano in the living room and, after taking a deep breath, he tries to voice his thoughts.

Sweet creature

Had another talk about where it's going wrong

But we're still young

We don't know where we're going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

As you put down your favorite book after reading it again, Calum's sweet, broken voice spreads throughout the house, bringing a sense of comfort to your heart. You can hear the pain behind his voice, and even though you know your wounds will take some time to heal, the words he screamed at you lose their value. One part of you is still angry but the other, curious and in love, wastes no time getting you out of bed and walking towards the room.

The piano overlooks the garden, the sun shines above and illuminates all the plants. Duke is chasing a butterfly, its tail wags quickly and some leaves are stuck in its fur. Calum has his back to you, his back leaning slightly forward as he looks outward, but his mind wanders somewhere else.

You lean on the door jamb that separates the two rooms and close your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the music and breathing regularly, giving your body respite from all the accumulated stress.

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Sweet creature

We're running through the garden

Oh, where nothing bothered us

But we're still young

I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

Calum watches the garden as the lyrics of the song automatically come out of his mouth. He was never good at playing the piano but, during the nights spent away from you over the years, he promised himself to learn all your favorite songs so he could sing them to you whenever you needed them.

And while Duke rolls around in the grass, he can't help but think about the thousand picnics you had on that same lawn, the laughter you shared and all those moments when he always fell in love a little more looking at you.

And even if the song doesn't belong to him, he can still feel every single word and a small tear falls down his face.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

I know, it's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You take a few steps forward and, after taking a deep sigh, sit next to him. Calum winces at the contact but his face turns into a big smile after seeing you. He doesn't know if you're still mad at him or if his singing worked, but being able to see you again after so many days spent in agony brings a sense of peace to his messed up world. He knows that this song is not enough, that he will have to prove a lot more to you - even if you will probably forbid it - but knowing that he has you there, frees him from a weight that he carried inside.

And as usual, there is no need for words, he just needs to feel your head resting on his shoulder to know that you have come back to him. And when your hands touch his, he feels at home again.

Almost automatically, your hands begin to move to the rhythm of the music and your fingers touch the keys of the piano, accompanying Calum in the melody, just as he taught you.

Duke is rolling in the grass, the butterfly now forgotten, and his happy face is illuminated by the sun. It seems that the sky has returned to shine too, not just your eyes, and the pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly again.

I know when we started

Just two hearts in one home

It gets harder when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You'll bring me home

There was no need to talk to him, or to explain, risking losing you was necessary for him to understand that something was wrong, that he had to find the right path, that you can risk skidding, the important thing is getting back on track.

“I am grateful to your mother for bringing you into the world, but even more grateful to you for being a part of my life. I'm sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. I love you and I always will.” He whispers, placing his hands on his thighs, as soon as he finishes singing the last words. His words are sincere, you can perceive the displeasure behind his tone and you know he believes what he says.

He kisses you on the forehead and, taking your hand in his and squeezing it, he rests his face on your head, closing his eyes and absorbing the silence, a cautious silence, full of peace and fresh air.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, closing your eyes in turn and letting yourself be lulled by the peace and serenity found. You know that everything will be fine, that even if you’ll have other fights, you will always find a way to get back to each other.

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