#green upholstered lounge chair

[odetothebrogueking]

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Snake in the Grass: Chapter 1

For @ckhalloween23's catch-all prompt: An Empty Grave

This is a horror fic I've been working on since May or June. Given my current pace, it probably won't be out until the latter half of next year, butttt since I have this first chapter done (and I wanted it to be done in time for Halloween of this year), I figured I'd go ahead and post this as a preview and a treat! Well, treat for you guys and me haha.

Content warning for alcohol, bars, and general spookiness.

Pool balls whizz & clack against one another, but the sound is mostly drowned out. The bar, while not packed, is bustling with life, as is typical for a Friday evening; the sounds of yelling, laughter, and glasses clinking fill the already cramped space. It’s the victory cry of men who have been itching for the work week to finally, finally, end.

Dim, warm lights mask dirty floors and mysterious stains of unknown origin that seem to infect any and every upholstered seat. The single TV crammed into the back corner behind the bar top has caught the attention of several men, all shouting and celebrating – or complaining – at every pitch of the game with gnashing teeth. The bartender scrambles to sling out drink after drink of who-knows-what for the night’s customers.

Johnny himself is seated at a round, wooden table shoved near the back of the room. It’s almost uncomfortably close to the billiards tables, and each shrill hit against the pool balls becomes harder to ignore as the night wears on. He’s got some good distraction, though.

He lounges in his chair with a Coors in hand, surrounded by his friends. Bobby sits at his right, sipping his bourbon, while counterclockwise from there are Jimmy, Dutch, and Tommy. It’s tight, mostly because they had to steal a seat for Jimmy, but Johnny doesn’t mind. Not a damn bit.

He takes a long, slow sip from his drink. He still can’t believe they graduated from West Valley six whole years ago, and yet here they are, still thick as thieves. It’s not the same as it was back in high school (images of late-night, high-speed rides on their Hondas and getting plastered on the beach come to mind), but given how damn busy they all are, it’s an impressive amount of effort to keep traditions & meet-ups alive – like these monthly get-togethers at the bar, for example.

Johnny half-listens to a light-hearted argument between Tommy & Jimmy about baseball players he doesn’t give a shit about. Dutch, caught in the middle, has decided to antagonize the two of them by playing devil’s advocate for both sides. Things are getting heated, but it’s nothing Johnny finds worth worrying about. A nudge to Johnny’s arm snatches his attention away, and he turns to see Bobby with an expectant gaze and a soft, tipsy smile on his lips. Johnny reciprocates the smile without even thinking; he can thank the fact that he’s at least a few drinks in for that.

Bobby’s eyes sparkle as he leans towards Johnny. His cheeks are flushed, and his breath is rich and yeasty, laced with just a hint of sweetness. He smirks at Johnny and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your back doing, old man?”

Anddd there it is. Johnny rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he answers, “Well, I’m no longer bed-ridden, so there’s that. I think I’ll be good to go back in a week or two once Dr. Gates gives me the green-light. I’m not supposed to see her for another two weeks, but if I feel better before then, I’m gonna see if she can squeeze me in, see if I can get back to work sooner.”

Bobby raises his brows in a look of mock shock, but it’s accompanied by a wry smile. “Did I just hear Johnny Lawrence say he’s trying to get back to work sooner? Thought you had worker’s comp to fall back on?”

“I do,” Johnny explains, snatching the neck of his Coors. The glass is smothered with wet drops of condensation that leave watery rings on the tabletop. “Just turns out that worker’s comp isn’t nearly as good as a roofing job. Pays the bills, but man.”

Johnny shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. The icy cold liquid feels like a blessing, and he sighs as the bottle leaves his lips.

Bobby shrugs a little awkwardly. He tries to reassure Johnny as best he can by reminding him, “Hey, at least you’re getting comp this time.”

Johnny frowns harshly and shuts his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to will away a headache. He sets his beer down with a soft thunk, and the moisture clinging to the glass is already dripping back onto the table. He glares at a nearby wall and mutters, “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Bobby starts with a warm smile, swishing the alcohol in his glass with one hand. “Not working under the table has its perks.”

Another round of loud cheers fills the room. Sounds like someone finally hit the damn ball. “Yeah, but the government also takes half my damn paycheck. Jimmy still hasn’t helped me figure out how to deduct all my taxes yet,” Johnny says, loudly pulling Jimmy into the conversation.

Jimmy turns away from his own conversation with Tommy & Dutch. He leans onto an elbow and smiles at Johnny, but it’s certainly not genuine; if anything, there’s a bite to it. He answers, “Just because I’m an accountant doesn’t mean I can magically fix your taxes, Johnny. Become a business, then we can talk.”

Johnny flips him off, earning a round of chuckles around the table as Jimmy rolls his eyes and relaxes back into his seat. Dutch points at Jimmy with his beer bottle and asks the accountant, “Speaking of, have you finally been let out of your cage? First time we’ve seen you in, what? Months?”

Jimmy sighs, and Johnny realizes that the polo Jimmy’s wearing is probably the most casual thing he’s worn out and about in a while. “Tax season is finally over. Thank god for that,” Jimmy trails off, and he takes a long swig from his glass.

Tommy eyes his friends and pipes up, “Too late for another round of shots?”

Another round sounds fucking amazing. Johnny instead answers, “I’d love to, but my wallet says no.”

Bobby chimes in, “My liver also says no. That first round was enough for me.”

Dutch’s face crinkles into disappointment as he boos Bobby from across the table. His chair tips back an almost dangerous amount while he does. He shakes his head and laments, “Ya think you know a guy, but then he goes to priest school and becomes a damn prude.”

Bobby glares at him as his grip tightens on his glass. “It’s called seminary, and I’m becoming a pastor, not a priest.”

Tommy snickers & nudges Dutch, giving him a mischievous look. He points out, “Didn’t say he wasn’t a prude.”

Johnny snorts, earning himself a Bobby-patented glare, which then sends him into a laughing fit. Sometimes it can genuinely be scary to be on the receiving end of that gaze, but most of the time (especially after all these years,) it’s become damn hilarious. There’s another vicious clack of the pool balls; the start of a new game.

“I hate all of you,” Bobby huffs. He crosses his arms and leans back into his chair, dragging his gaze across the figures of his (almost) drunk friends, who are still much more sober than half of the room. “Why do I even hang out with you assholes? What did I do to deserve this?”

Jimmy sips on his glass and looks at Bobby. His lips curl into a wry smile. “Be a prude?”

Johnny thinks he can see a vein bulge in Bobby’s forehead, and he has to stifle another snort. Bobby’s lips pull into a tight, frustrated line across his face. He finishes the last of his bourbon with a small gulp and slaps his palm onto the table so he can push himself out of his chair. “I fucking hate you. All of you. I’m getting another drink.”

He pushes his chair back in with his foot and starts to weave through the maze of people & tables, and Tommy smiles like a Cheshire cat and calls out, “Can you-?”

“No,” Bobby yells back as he crosses the bustling room. Tommy cackles in his seat, and Dutch follows suit, clapping a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and howling beside him. Johnny simply shakes his head and leans onto the table, resting on his forearms.

The wood sticks to his skin. He can only imagine how much dust is trapped under layers of sticky god-knows-what. Probably more than he realizes. It’s kind of gross to think about, but it doesn’t really faze him, especially when everything about this bar fits that bill. Not much about this place is great: the bartender’s a dick, the bowls of pretzels are stale as shit and few & far between, it’s impossible to find a seat without a weird stain on it, and there’s never more than two beers on tap.

That doesn’t mean it’s all bad, though. Johnny never has to worry about them running out of Coors. It’s a pretty good distance between all their places. The prices aren’t half bad, and hell, it doesn’t even come close to gracing their top ten list of “Shittiest Bars This Side of California!” So yeah, really not all bad, at least if you ask him.

Tommy’s hyena-like cackle grabs Johnny’s attention and pulls him back into whatever conversations he’s missed. “No, no,” Tommy starts, smiling wide. “I’m just- can you believe any of us actually graduated?”

Jimmy levies Tommy with a self-satisfied smile. “No, I actually can’t believe any of you guys graduated,” he teases. Tommy rolls his eyes.

Dutch scowls. “Yes, yes, we know. You made an A once and got into a big boy college, keep it in your pants,” He replies gruffly, finishing his statement with a swig.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tommy elaborates dryly while gesturing with his drink. “You’re not wrong, but think about it. Our senior year was such a shitshow.”

Dutch smirks and looks Johnny’s way. “I blame Romeo over here. Had no idea a breakup would lead to all that bullshit with LaRusso.”

Johnny stifles at the comment, and his cheeks flush – now red from more than just the alcohol – as he glares at Dutch. He’s about to bark out a comeback, but Bobby cuts him off when he comes sauntering back, freshly filled glass in hand, and retorts, “Oh please, we’re all to blame. We escalated it when we should’ve just left things alone.”

Bobby slides into his chair a little ungracefully, wood scraping against the floor, while Dutch shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He nods his head down a little sheepishly because… yeah. Bobby’s right, as much Johnny hates to admit it. Back at West Valley, they were all chomping at the bit to put the twerp in his place, but none of that needed to happen or even should have happened. They saw red, and LaRusso got caught in the crossfire. It was like they didn’t even see him. Just a conveniently placed punching bag.

The table’s air stills; the rest of the bar continues to thrum with activity while the atmosphere of their little corner slowly ices over. Johnny purses his lips and sips at his beer. Guilt gnaws his ribcage. Even after all these years, after the apologies and many, many steps to make things right, he’s still stuck with bitter memories that choke him up. He opts to study the many dings & scratches on the table rather than meet any of his friends’ eyes.

Jimmy’s the first to break the tense silence. “You know, if we have anyone to blame, it’s Kreese,” he spits out. It hits Johnny like a jab to the chest. He’s taken aback as Jimmy says this, but the man continues, “He put so much bullshit in our heads! All that punch first, think second nonsense. Like, come on-”

“Wait, wait,” Johnny interrupts while waving his hand to stop Jimmy in his tracks. How can he just say that? “Look, he was a total douchebag – I should fucking know – but we’re the ones who took what he said too far. We were still the ones who fucked with LaRusso. He didn’t tell us to do any of that shit.”

Tommy shifts beside him and stumbles over his words. “Yeah, like- but- Look, okay, you’re right, it’s totally on us for taking shit way too far, but Johnny,” Tommy says, and he turns to Johnny with pleading eyes. “He literally taught us to have no mercy. Literally. That’s not an exaggeration.”

Johnny frowns. “Yeah, but we took it out of context. He obviously meant to not take no for an answer, to- to keep pushing on despite the circumstances,” he explains. Are they seriously saying this shit? Even after all these years? After everything Kreese did for them? For fuck’s sake…

Dutch is next to speak. He throws Johnny an odd look as he adds, “Did we go to the same Cobra Kai? Because the one I went to taught us to do fucking everything to the extreme. Including the no mercy shit. Hell, he even had us do karate to the extreme. All those extra goddamn practices…”

“Yeah, and they were good for us. We needed some discipline!” Johnny snaps back defensively. His blood is starting to boil with every bullshit argument that his friends make.

He starts to bounce his leg. The sounds of laughter pouring out from a nearby table makes him want to snarl. He doesn’t get it, how can his friends just- just pass the blame onto Kreese? The guy at least tried to help them and make them into better people (before his sensei lost his mind, that is.)

Johnny turns to Bobby, who’s worrying his lip and squirming like he’s sitting on an anthill. “Come on,” Johnny says. “Back me up here.”

Bobby looks away from Johnny, jaw tense, but he turns back. He lets out a breath, look Johnny square on with a worrying level of sincerity, and says, “Johnny. Kreese worked us so hard once that you forget it was Ali’s birthday. She broke up with you over that.”

Johnny’s skin buzzes. He’s all too aware of the overpowering noise of the room. Hell, he feels like he can feel the next table over breathing on him. His stomach rolls. “That is not what happened,” Johnny insists with a hard stare. “Practice that day was not that bad. I remember it. It was fine.”

Tommy scoffs, “Then why were you so quick to go out drinking with us?”

Johnny’s more tense than a stretched-out rubber band, and he feels like he’s going to snap like one, too. He scowls and answers, “I forgot because…”

Johnny blinks and turns his gaze down. Sweat collects at the back of his neck while his chest tightens.

“No, I-I forgot because…”

His mouth is a cotton ball. He’s reaching into his mind, searching for the memory, but he just… it’s not right. It’s there, but somehow, it also isn’t. He remembers being brought in for an extra practice with his cobras, Twig being brought in to watch & help, the end of practice, getting ready to leave, and then…

His temples throb as tries harder to remember, but he can’t. There’s a gap, a void where something should be. It’s not like he’s just forgotten the details, god no. He’s actively reaching into his mind, searching and grasping for what should be there, sandwiched between the sparring and the night at the bar, but he just… He can’t. He can’t get there. Every time he thinks he’s brushing against what might be the memory in question, a pulsing throb shakes his skull, and it rattles his train of thought loose.

His eyes dart between his friends. His heart pounds furiously against his vice of a ribcage, and he wipes his sweaty palms against the thighs of his pants. Their faces are a varied array of distress and confusion. Why do they look like that? Are they trying – and failing – to remember, just like him? Shit, why can’t he remember?

A chill threatens to run down his spine. Could he ever remember?

When he was fresh off the breakup with Ali, he would spend hours torturing himself with all the ways he screwed things up; it was his way of trying to nail down exactly what he did wrong. Except… he always left that practice turned night-on-the-town alone. He never touched it, to his knowledge. Is- Is this why? Every time he tried to play the events over in his mind, would he get to this downright anomaly of a gap in his memory, and did it make him feel- well, make him feel like he does now? Sick and shaken?

Is that why he never, never thinks about the inciting incident that led Ali to yell at him and tell him things were done? Did the avoidance become muscle memory at some point so he would never try to recall that night & the memories associated with it?

He knows the answer. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t even feel natural. It’s not like he just forgot; no, it’s more like something was ripped out unceremoniously or maybe strangled and hidden in an unreachable corner of his mind. Does it matter what type of wrong it is? He wipes the sweat from his brow; the heat from the crowd of the bar tonight has finally caught up to him, it seems.

His mind circles back. Why can’t he remember? Why is there a gap? How long has it been there? Has- has it always been there? And not just any gap. No, a gap that, when he tries to recall upon what should be there, snaps up & bites him like a cornered animal. His head is throbbing. He fumbles for his beer and takes a long drink.

He looks again to his friends. He can only imagine the expression on his own face given theirs. He takes a chance and says, “Please tell me I-I’m not the only one who…”

Bobby slowly shakes his head, eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t meet Johnny’s gaze. Jimmy and Dutch don’t move; they simply squirm and keep their eyes down. Tommy’s chest is heaving as he sits up straight and looks ahead with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Johnny knows they must be in the same boat as him. They have to be.

Tommy answers with a shaky voice, “Who what?” Johnny almost drops his mouth wide open. Tommy’s asking that even though the man isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes and looks like he wants to run out of the room?

“Who what? What do you mean who what?” Johnny asks incredulously. “Who- who can’t fucking remember what happened that night!”

Tommy’s smiling, but it’s strained. He answers, voice as tight as his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny grips his Coors so hard he thinks it’s going to shatter in his hands. “What do you mean what I’m-? You know exactly what I mean. Look at us! Look at yourself! Something’s not right.”

“Johnny,” Bobby pleads. At some point he rested his forehead in his hands, elbows on the table. “You’re- you’re not wrong, but Christ-”

Johnny turns to face Bobby with an eager gaze. He cuts him off, saying, “You can’t remember, either. It’s not just me. Something’s wrong.”

Bobby sighs through his nose. He’s getting frustrated; it’s a tell Johnny knows well. “No, Johnny,” Bobby says shortly. “I can’t remember. But I don’t want to. God, I just… I think I can speak for all of us when I say let’s just drop it. Please. I don’t want to think about-”

Bobby’s practically pleading, but Johnny doesn’t care. What’s more fucking important: a little bit of discomfort or the fact none of them remember the same exact damn thing?

Johnny cuts him off again and snarls, “About the fact there’s a fucking gap in our memories? The same gap for all of us, I’m willing to bet? One we’ve probably had since that night?”

Bobby shuts his eyes, and Johnny’s not sure if the man is going to cry or punch him, but given their shared history at Cobra Kai, it’s probably the latter. Dutch speaks up next, snapping, “Johnny! Just drop it! Yes, our memories are fucked, big whoop. I don’t care! I don’t want to think about it either! I don’t know about you, but I don’t like trying to remember and feeling my skin try to crawl off my body.”

Johnny drums his fingers against his bottle. He can’t fight the scowl on his lips. “Seriously? You’re just going to ignore this? Just like that?”

Dutch laughs bitterly. “Seems like we’ve been doing that for years, man,” he says with a shake of the head, but he pauses and looks Johnny straight on. “You know what? Hold on, let me ask you something. Let’s say we do talk about this shit. Have a little pow-wow and Agatha Christie our way through this bullshit. What the hell would we even do? Seriously, how in the fuck would you even recommend we- we try to fix this? Please, share with the class!”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer but shuts it tight in that same instant. His cheeks flush again. He genuinely has no idea where to start, actually. He does know that if they work together, they might have a shot, but Dutch writing him off with that cruel smile makes Johnny want to scream.

“Exactly,” Dutch says like the self-assured bastard he is, gesturing at Johnny with his drink in hand. “We can’t do shit, and since we’ve gone this long without thinking about it, why stop now? Sounds like none of us want to think about it, for christ’s sake.”

Johnny’s throat is tight. He can hardly believe what Dutch is saying. What Tommy and Bobby have been fucking saying. His blood pulses under his skin, and he turns to Jimmy, almost begging, “Jimmy. Come on, back me up. We can’t just pretend this never happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t look him in the eye, and it’s enough to make Johnny’s heart sink. The brunette swallows, lips turned downward ever so slightly, and he hesitantly answers, “Look, I-I’m sorry Johnny. I can’t. Why don’t we just… let sleeping dogs lie? All remembering does is hurt, and we can’t do anything about it, so why can’t we just…”

Johnny screws his eyes shut tight and flexes a hand in and out of a fist a few times. He brings his Coors to his lips, takes a healthy gulp, and slams the bottle back onto the table with enough force to make his friends jump a little. He glares at them all. He can hardly believe all the bullshit he’s heard tonight.

“Why can’t I just what? Drop it? Why aren’t you pussies willing to do anything about this?! It’s not right! Something is fucking wrong, and you just want to act like nothing happened!” Johnny says. His voice is starting to raise, and he’s getting the attention of a few nearby patrons, but quite frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. Fuck ‘em. “What is wrong with you guys? Who gives a fuck if it hurts to think about it! Something is wrong, and it sure as hell wasn’t just forgotten. It’s gone. Or- or it’s there and we just can’t reach it but- Who cares! It’s still weird as shit, and you’re all just pretending like nothing fucking happened like a bunch of pussies!”

Bobby attempts to soothe him by saying, “Johnny, please, I don’t think this is as bad as you’re saying.”

Johnny feels his muscles tense, and he swears to god, he might break a tooth from how hard his jaw is clenched. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, only able to focus on the traitorous words that just came out of Bobby’s mouth, and when his vision clears, everything is suddenly too much again – screeching pool balls, wails & shouts from the crowd around them, the way his body is vibrating under his skin. He has to fight against the urge to throw & shatter his beer bottle on the ground (likely only because he’s not done quite with it yet).

He can’t believe that Bobby of all people would say that to him. Talk down to him like that. That simple sentence rubs him raw like coarse sandpaper dragged his skin. It conjures up painful memories of his mom brushing aside his pleas for help and, on occasion, Kreese asking him through a sneer if he’s a loser. And worst of all, Bobby knows this, better than anyone else. He’s been the one to listen to Johnny rant and rage about being brushed off and ignored. He knows how that phrase sets Johnny’s blood alight.

Johnny chugs the rest of his beer in one fell swoop and steps out of his chair so fast & hard it tumbles. He doesn’t even bother picking it up. He bites out, “Fuck this. I’m going home. I don’t give a fuck what you do. Pretend for all I care! Don’t come crying to me when this shit blows up in all of our faces.”

Johnny ignores Bobby’s protests as he begins to chase after the taller man, trying to get Johnny to talk to him or whatever. Johnny can’t talk to him, won’t. He can’t even look at him right now. He grits his teeth as he weaves between people, and the longer Bobby follows, the more certain Johnny becomes that he really might start swinging.

Johnny has to shoulder his way into an open spot and wait for the bartender to slide by, but flashing some cash is all it takes to grab his attention. He feels like his skin is going to vibrate right off his body, and he snaps at some asshole sitting beside him who tells him to watch it.

Bobby catches up to Johnny as he’s trying to pay the bartender, worthless platitudes tumbling out of his mouth, and Johnny hisses through clenched teeth, “If you don’t lay off, I’m gonna knock your teeth out, I swear to god.”

It works as intended. Bobby steps back, startled and wide-eyed. Johnny knows he looks a little wild right now, but he just does not care. He feels like he’s one wrong word or move away from snapping, from saying & doing shit he’s going to regret. He just wants to get out of this fucking bar and away from his shithead friends.

Johnny breathes a small sigh of relief when Bobby accepts defeat and slinks back to the table stuffed in the back of the room. He always was the smartest of the five of them. He knew when it was time to leave things be before it blew up in their faces. Johnny thinks of Daniel, and he feels a little sick, but it’s replaced with another wave of hot, tepid anger again, the same kind that haunted him all through high school.

With his tab paid, Johnny shoves his way out of the bar, other patrons throwing protests, swears, & a few obscene gestures at him, but Johnny makes himself ignore it and pushes on. If he starts to pay attention and care right now, even a little, he’s probably gonna get the cops called on his ass, and he just- he can’t deal with that on top of everything else tonight.

He opens the bar door with a hard shove, and the chill night air washes over him. While the streets are neither silent nor empty, it’s still much better than the bar, and he feels his chest loosen enough that he can breathe again. He stomps over to his Avanti, and halfway through sticking his key into the door’s lock, he decides that he doesn’t have enough beer at home to deal with this night.

[rsinterior1]

Top Home Furniture Trends for 2024

As we step into 2024, home design is evolving with fresh perspectives, innovative materials, and a focus on sustainability. Furniture trends this year combine functionality, style, and eco-consciousness, reflecting the changing lifestyles and priorities of homeowners. From versatile multi-functional pieces to minimalist designs and nature-inspired aesthetics, these trends are sure to elevate your living space. Here are the top home furniture trends for 2024 that you need to know.

1. Sustainable Materials Take Center Stage

Sustainability continues to be a driving force in home design, and furniture is no exception. Consumers are increasingly seeking pieces made from eco-friendly materials, such as reclaimed wood, bamboo, and recycled metals and plastics. These materials not only reduce waste but also bring a unique charm and character to your home. Designers are also utilizing organic fabrics like hemp, jute, and organic cotton for upholstery, ensuring that your furniture choices are both stylish and sustainable.

In 2024, many furniture manufacturers are committed to creating long-lasting, high-quality pieces that have a minimal environmental footprint. By investing in sustainable furniture, you not only contribute to the environment but also create a timeless, sophisticated look for your home.

2. Multifunctional and Modular Furniture

As urban living spaces continue to shrink, multifunctional furniture is becoming a necessity. In 2024, versatility is key. Homeowners are looking for furniture that can easily adapt to their changing needs. From sofa beds to extendable dining tables, multifunctional pieces are perfect for small apartments or homes with limited space. Modular furniture is also making waves—sofas, bookshelves, and storage units can now be customized to fit any room layout.

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3. Natural and Earthy Tones

Inspired by nature, 2024’s color palette for furniture features earthy, warm tones. Shades of terracotta, deep greens, browns, and soft neutrals will dominate living rooms, bedrooms, and dining areas. These natural tones evoke a sense of calm and relaxation, creating an inviting atmosphere in the home. Natural wood finishes are also making a comeback, with light oak, walnut, and teak being used to add warmth and texture to furniture pieces.

Incorporating natural materials and colors into your furniture is an easy way to create a serene, cozy ambiance that connects your indoor spaces with the outdoors. Whether through wooden accents or plush, nature-inspired fabrics, these earthy tones make a strong statement in home design.

4. Bold and Artistic Designs

While minimalist design has had its moment, 2024 sees a shift toward bold, artistic pieces that make a statement. Expect to see furniture with unique shapes, vibrant patterns, and eclectic designs. Curved sofas, sculptural chairs, and experimental furniture forms are becoming popular as homeowners look to express their individuality through their decor. Art-deco inspired details, such as geometric patterns and metallic finishes, are also trending.

This trend allows for creativity to shine, whether through custom-made furniture or one-of-a-kind vintage finds. Bold furniture can turn a simple living room or bedroom into a space full of personality, making a statement that reflects your tastes and lifestyle.

5. Comfort and Ergonomics

In 2024, comfort is king. With an increased focus on wellness and self-care, furniture that prioritizes comfort and ergonomics is in high demand. Upholstered pieces with plush cushions, ergonomic office chairs, and adjustable lounge chairs are essential for creating a comfortable and health-conscious home. Many furniture designers are incorporating memory foam, lumbar support, and adjustable features to ensure that every piece supports both your physical and mental well-being.

In the wake of the pandemic, many people have spent more time at home, making comfort a key factor in purchasing decisions. The demand for cozy, supportive, and relaxing furniture will continue to rise throughout 2024, making comfort a top priority for homeowners.

6. Technology-Integrated Furniture

As smart homes become more common, furniture is evolving to accommodate the growing presence of technology. From built-in charging stations to Bluetooth speakers integrated into sofas and beds, 2024 will see a greater fusion of technology and furniture. Tables with wireless charging pads, smart desks that adjust height at the touch of a button, and sofa arms with USB ports are just a few examples of how tech is shaping the furniture of the future.

These pieces not only add a modern touch to your home but also enhance convenience, making it easier to stay connected and organized. Whether you're working from home or simply enjoying a movie night, tech-integrated furniture simplifies everyday life.

Conclusion

As we move into 2024, the trends in home furniture reflect a shift towards sustainability, functionality, and individuality. Whether you're embracing earthy tones, modular designs, or artistic statement pieces, there are countless ways to personalize your home while staying on top of the latest trends. If you’re looking to refresh your living space with stylish and affordable options, consider visiting an affordable home furniture store in Vaishali Nagar. These stores offer a wide range of furniture that blends modern aesthetics with practicality, ensuring that you can create a home that’s both beautiful and functional.

[arvfurniture-blog-blog]

Creating a Boho Chic living room is all about blending different textures, patterns, and colors to create a warm, eclectic, and inviting space. Here are some tips to help you achieve this style, incorporating pieces from ARV Furniture:

1. Layer Textures Furniture: Opt for ARV Furniture pieces with natural materials like rattan, wood, or upholstered furniture with a cozy texture. Mix and match these with soft throws, woven rugs, and plush cushions. Decor: Add a variety of textiles, such as macramé wall hangings, crochet blankets, and fringed pillows. 2. Embrace Earthy Tones Color Palette: Use warm and earthy tones like terracotta, mustard, olive green, and rust. Pair these with neutrals like beige, cream, and white to balance the space. Accent Pieces: Consider adding ARV Furniture accent chairs or side tables in these colors to complement the overall theme. 3. Mix Patterns Rugs & Pillows: Incorporate rugs and pillows with bold, geometric, or tribal patterns. ARV Furniture’s area rugs or decorative cushions can be a great way to introduce these elements. Wall Art: Add vibrant artwork with abstract or bohemian designs to make a statement. 4. Bring in Greenery Plants: Incorporate various indoor plants to bring life and color into the room. Large potted plants or hanging planters can enhance the boho vibe. Planters: Choose ARV Furniture’s decorative planters or stands to display your greenery stylishly. 5. Use Eclectic Decor Accessories: Add unique and eclectic decor pieces, such as vintage mirrors, handmade pottery, or global-inspired artifacts. Lighting: Use ambient lighting like lanterns, string lights, or lamps with woven shades to create a cozy atmosphere. 6. Incorporate Vintage and Handcrafted Items Furniture: Consider adding a vintage or antique piece from ARV Furniture’s collection to create a focal point in the room. Decor: Handcrafted items like woven baskets, tapestries, or artisanal ceramics add a personal and unique touch. 7. Create a Relaxing Atmosphere Seating: Incorporate comfortable seating options like poufs, floor cushions, or a soft ARV Furniture sofa where you can lounge and relax. Ambiance: Use candles, incense, or essential oil diffusers to create a calming ambiance in the room. By combining these elements with the right pieces from ARV Furniture, you can create a beautiful, relaxed, and inviting Boho Chic living room.

[dm1-1]

What are some office interior solutions for improving acoustics?

In modern office environments, improving acoustics is essential for creating a productive and comfortable workspace. Poor acoustics can lead to distractions, reduced concentration, and increased stress levels among employees. Implementing effective office interior solutions can significantly enhance the acoustic environment, promoting better communication and overall well-being. Here are some key office interior solutions for improving acoustics.

1. Acoustic Panels

One of the most effective office interior solutions for improving acoustics is the installation of acoustic panels. These panels are designed to absorb sound and reduce noise levels within the office. Acoustic panels can be mounted on walls or ceilings, and they come in various shapes, sizes, and colors to complement the office décor. By strategically placing acoustic panels around the workspace, you can significantly reduce echoes and create a quieter environment.

2. Sound-Absorbing Ceiling Tiles

Ceiling tiles that are specifically designed to absorb sound are another excellent office interior solution. These tiles help to reduce noise levels by absorbing sound waves and preventing them from bouncing back into the room. Sound-absorbing ceiling tiles are particularly effective in open plan offices where noise levels can be high. They are also available in various styles and finishes, allowing them to blend seamlessly with the office’s aesthetic.

3. Carpet and Rugs

Carpets and rugs are simple yet effective office interior solutions for improving acoustics. These soft floor coverings absorb sound and reduce the amount of noise that travels through the office. Using carpet tiles or large area rugs in high-traffic areas can help to dampen footsteps and minimize noise from movement. Additionally, carpets and rugs add warmth and comfort to the office environment.

4. Acoustic Dividers and Partitions

Acoustic dividers and partitions are versatile office interior solutions that can help to improve acoustics in open plan offices. These movable barriers can be placed between workstations to create semi-private areas that reduce noise transmission. Acoustic dividers are typically made from sound-absorbing materials, and they can also serve as pinboards or whiteboards, adding functionality to the workspace.

5. Plants and Green Walls

Incorporating plants and green walls into the office design is a natural way to improve acoustics. Plants absorb, reflect, and refract sound waves, helping to reduce noise levels. Green walls, which are vertical structures covered with plants, can act as sound barriers and add a touch of nature to the office. Using plants as an office interior solution not only enhances acoustics but also improves air quality and employee well-being.

6. Soft Furnishings

Soft furnishings, such as upholstered chairs, cushions, and curtains, can contribute to better acoustics in the office. These materials absorb sound and prevent it from reverberating around the room. Adding soft furnishings to meeting rooms, lounges, and common areas can create a more comfortable and quieter environment for employees.

7. Sound-Masking Systems

Sound-masking systems are advanced office interior solutions designed to improve acoustics by adding a low-level background noise. This noise, often referred to as “white noise,” helps to mask distracting sounds and makes conversations less intelligible to unintended listeners. Sound-masking systems can be integrated into the office’s HVAC system or installed as standalone devices. They are particularly useful in open plan offices and areas where privacy is important.

8. Wall Coverings and Art

Decorative wall coverings and acoustic art panels can enhance office acoustics while adding visual interest to the space. These wall treatments are made from sound-absorbing materials and can be customized to match the office’s design. Acoustic art panels can feature company branding, motivational quotes, or abstract designs, making them both functional and aesthetically pleasing.

9. Enclosed Meeting Rooms

Creating enclosed meeting rooms is an effective office interior solution for improving acoustics in areas where confidentiality and concentration are crucial. These rooms should be designed with soundproofing materials, such as acoustic doors, double-glazed windows, and insulated walls. Enclosed meeting rooms provide a quiet space for discussions, presentations, and focused work, reducing noise pollution in the surrounding office areas.

10. Acoustic-Friendly Office Layout

Finally, an acoustic-friendly office layout is essential for minimizing noise levels. Consider the placement of workstations, meeting rooms, and common areas to reduce noise transmission. Positioning noisy equipment, such as printers and copiers, away from workstations can also help. Creating quiet zones and collaborative zones ensures that different activities are accommodated without compromising on acoustics.

In conclusion, improving acoustics in the office is vital for creating a productive and comfortable work environment. By implementing office interior solutions such as acoustic panels, sound-absorbing ceiling tiles, carpets, and rugs, businesses can significantly reduce noise levels. Incorporating acoustic dividers, plants, soft furnishings, and sound-masking systems further enhances the acoustic environment. Decorative wall coverings, enclosed meeting rooms, and an acoustic-friendly layout ensure a balanced and effective approach to managing office noise. These office interior solutions not only improve acoustics but also contribute to a healthier and more enjoyable workspace for employees. One can achieve these by getting in touch with the renowned design and build firm such as Flipspaces, who can help you with the same.

[skyspacefurniture1]

Enhancing Workspaces: The Evolution of Office Furniture in Sharjah

In the bustling emirate of Sharjah, where commerce meets culture, the significance of office furniture extends far beyond mere functionality. The design and arrangement of office spaces play a pivotal role in fostering productivity, collaboration, and employee well-being. As the business landscape evolves, so too does the demand for innovative and ergonomic office furniture solutions tailored to the unique needs of Sharjah's workforce.

Gone are the days of sterile cubicles and uniform desks. Today, the modern office in Sharjah reflects a blend of tradition and innovation, with furniture that marries functionality with aesthetic appeal. From sleek executive desks to flexible modular workstations, the range of options available caters to diverse tastes and preferences.

One of the key trends shaping the Office Furniture Sharjah is the emphasis on ergonomics. With an increasing awareness of the importance of employee health and comfort, businesses are investing in chairs, desks, and accessories designed to support proper posture and reduce the risk of musculoskeletal disorders. Adjustable standing desks, ergonomic chairs with lumbar support, and monitor arms that promote optimal viewing angles are just a few examples of the ergonomic solutions gaining popularity in Sharjah's workplaces.

Moreover, sustainability has become a driving force behind furniture choices in Sharjah. As businesses embrace corporate social responsibility and environmental stewardship, there is a growing demand for eco-friendly office furniture made from sustainable materials such as recycled wood, bamboo, and low-emission finishes. Manufacturers and retailers in Sharjah are responding to this demand by offering an array of green options, from modular workstations constructed with reclaimed materials to chairs upholstered in environmentally friendly fabrics.

Collaborative workspaces are another area witnessing significant innovation in office furniture design. Recognizing the value of teamwork and creativity, many organizations in Sharjah are transforming their offices into open, flexible environments that encourage interaction and idea-sharing. This shift has fueled the demand for modular furniture solutions that can be easily reconfigured to accommodate different group sizes and activities. From mobile whiteboards and nesting tables to lounge seating and acoustic pods, these versatile furnishings are reshaping the way teams collaborate and communicate in Sharjah's workplaces.

Furthermore, the aesthetic preferences of Sharjah's diverse workforce are reflected in the design choices for office furniture. While some businesses opt for a minimalist, contemporary look characterized by clean lines and neutral colors, others embrace more traditional motifs inspired by local culture and heritage. Intricately carved wooden desks, ornate rugs, and vibrant artwork are just a few elements that add a touch of Arabian flair to office spaces in Sharjah, creating environments that are both visually appealing and culturally resonant.

In addition to aesthetics, functionality remains paramount in the selection of office furniture in Sharjah. With the rise of remote and hybrid work models, there is a growing need for versatile furnishings that can seamlessly transition between home and office settings. Portable laptop stands, compact storage solutions, and multipurpose furniture pieces that serve dual functions are in high demand among Sharjah's mobile workforce, allowing employees to create productive workspaces wherever they go.

For More Info :-

Gaming Chair in Dubai

Executive Chair in Dubai

[greenleafgoddess]

Swivel Egg Chair in Yellow Velvet

on amazon:

Swivel Egg Chair in Light Green Velvet

available on amazon:

[crazyblondelife]

Plan Your Next Trip to Savannah Georgia

Savannah Georgia is one of my favorite cities! Our daughter Rebecca went to Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD) and we absolutely fell in love with Savannah while she was there! It’s a charming Southern city with so much history as well as fabulous restaurants, hotels and shopping! Rebecca, who lived in Savannah for five years put this guide together for me because she knows the ins and outs of the city so well. I hope you enjoy and will use this post as a reference for planning your next trip to Savannah!

Stay 

Perry Lane

A relatively new hotel in Savannah, Perry Lane is a beautiful luxury stay set just slightly away from rowdy downtown. Two buildings face each other across Perry Lane, inside, you’ll find a beautiful space that is expertly decorated, adorned with an expansive art collection, and complete with a  library, cozy leather chairs, and tropical wallpaper. The hotel has everything you could possibly need - a sit-down restaurant serving modern French bistro food with a Southern flare, a wine shop and wine bar, a deli and gelato stand, a coffee bar, and even a mini-market. You’ll also find a rooftop bar and pool on the top of one tower and The Wayward in the adjacent tower, which serves fantastic cocktails and has eighties arcade games. They even welcome you to the hotel with a chilled glass of champagne! This is one of our favorite places to stay in Savannah! 

Images below from cntraveler.com

The Drayton Hotel

In the Historic District of Savannah is The Drayton Hotel. The exterior is traditional but the inside is modern and vibrant with colorfully upholstered furniture and lush green plants. The rooms are airy and uniquely designed with a vintage flair and the hotel bar is fabulous! They also have a brasserie, Saint Neo’s, that serves southern seafood and a lovely Rooftop Bar. Downstairs has a Cocktail Lounge with an extensive craft cocktail list, and a small coffee stand is located in the lobby so you can grab a cup of joe as you head out to explore the city!

Images from thedraytonhotel.com, cntraveler.com

Alida

Just a few blocks from Broughton St, the Alida is a beautiful boutique hotel with a stunning lobby, pool, rooftop bar with a large fireplace, and sleek guest rooms. They also have a signature scent that you can purchase in their well-curated gift shop along with other unique finds. With cozy rooms and easy access to shopping, restaurants, and more, the Alida is a beautiful place to stay in downtown Savannah! 

Images below from thealidahotel.com

JW Marriott

Located in Plant Riverside, a newer development on River Street, The JW Marriot is a beautiful new hotel with sweeping views of the river and easy access to shops, restaurants and so much more! The lobby is filled with giant geodes and other beautiful stones and such a fun hotel in the middle of all that Plant Riverside has to offer.

Images below from marriott.com

The Westin Savannah Harbor

Located across the river, the Westin is a beautiful hotel that is great for family trips or if you are looking for a quieter location away from busy downtown Savannah. Complete with a restaurant, Starbucks in the lobby, and a great pool with outdoor bar. They also have an expansive golf course and luxury spa. You can easily drive over the bridge to spend a day in downtown savannah or take the free water taxi that will pick you up right on the hotel dock. The Westin is a spacious and lovely place to stay! 

Images below from marriott.com

Eat 

Local 11 Ten

A long-time staple in Savannah, Local 11 Ten is a go-to each time we visit the city. Located on Bull Street at the top of Forsyth park, they serve southern flavors using local and seasonal ingredients such as fresh seafood, vegetables and herbs from Savannah's own local farmers. The atmosphere is contemporary yet elegant and they have a great wine list and the food is delicious! There is also a rooftop bar open in the warmer months that is the perfect place to grab a cocktail before dinner. 

Images below from www.local11ten.com

The Grey

Housed in a restored 1938 art deco Greyhound Bus Terminal, The Grey offers delicious food, wonderful wine and great service that is familiar and elevated. Chef Mashama Bailey, who has been featured on Chefs Table, infuses food memories from her childhood in Georgia and experience working in top kitchens in New York into each dish they serve. Located on Martin Luther King Boulevard in the heart of downtown, this is a must-have meal when visiting Savannah. 

Images below from thediasporicdish.com, thegreyrestaurant.com

Husk Savannah

Owned by Sean Brock, a very successful southern chef who you may have see on Chefs Table, Husk is an elevated southern dining experience that highlights heirloom crops and southern food at its very roots. Located in a beautiful restored home on Liberty Street, Husk offers some of the best food in Savannah in beautiful and comfortable environment. They also have a beautiful bar on the second floor, a great place to enjoy a cocktail or have lunch!

Images below from husksavannah.com

Olde Pink House

Considered one of Savannah’s greatest restaurants, The Olde Pink House offered upscale southern food in a beautiful classic Savannah atmosphere. The restaurant is in a historic old pink home, hence the name Olde Pink House,  and occupies multiple stories of the building. From gorgeous dining rooms to a cozy underground tavern, I highly recommend visiting the Olde Pink House for dinner when in Savannah. Be sure to book reservations in advance as this is a very popular spot. 

Images below from markfinlay.com

The Collins Quarter

If you are looking for a brunch spot, the Collins Quarter is the perfect place! With 2 locations in Savannah, Bull Street, and Forsyth Park, The Collins Quarter serves dishes with an Australian influence and everything is unique and delicious. They also have wonderful coffee and cocktails and even a walk-up coffee bar where you can grab a drink while you wait for a table. They also offer a wonderful dinner service and great bar in the evening.

Images below from downtown.thecollinsquarter.com

Vic's on the River

Vic’s on the River is a delicious southern riverfront fine dining experience. With an extensive dinner menu featuring local seafood classics such as the pecan-crusted flounder, jumbo lump crab cakes and filet mignon, there is something for everyone! The spacious dining rooms are simply decorated but retain some of the original historical features like high ceilings, wide windows with river views, beautiful chandeliers, and hardwood floors. This is a great dinner spot or nice lunch or dinner downtown. 

Images below from exploregeorgia.org, opentable.com, vicsontheriver.com

Cotton & Rye

This upscale southern restaurant in Savannah’s Starlight District offers a creative menu with a unique twist on southern classics like fried chicken and shrimp and grits. The environment is casual with a bright and airy dining room and a charming patio.

Images from cottonandrye.com

The Green Truck Pub

This burger joint is a little way out of downtown but they have the best burger around! With locally sourced grass-fed meat, homemade veggie burgers, and even homemade ketchup, pimento cheese, and salad dressing, this is the best spot for a filling casual meal you can feel good about! 

Images from greentruckpub.com

Mrs. Wilkes Dining Room

A truly unique dining experience, Mrs. Wilkes Dining Room serves family-style meals of homemade fried chicken and cornbread dressing, sweet potato souffle, black-eyed peas, okra gumbo, corn muffins, and biscuits. A line forms each morning in front of the entrance on West Jones Street and at 11 o'clock, the doors open and the crowd finds seats at one of the large tables-for-ten shared by strangers. There is one seating each day so arrive early to be sure you get in! The menu changes daily but the food is always delicious, homemade and as southern as can be! 

Images below from visitsavannah.com

Leopold’s Ice cream

Opening in 1919, Leopold is to this day THE ice cream shop in Savannah. Conveniently located on Broughton Street among the shops and restaurants of downtown, there’s nothing better than a delicious ice cream cone in the hot southern heat. 

Images from www.tripadvisor.com

Drink 

Myrtle & Rose

One of my favorite rooftops in the city, Myrtle and Rose is inspired by the flowers used in the crowns often worn by muses in classical mythology. This rooftop garden is feminine and romantic, with breathtaking views of both the Savannah River and charming historic downtown. On Sundays, enjoy a delicious brunch or spend an afternoon with your girlfriends enjoying a cocktail or a bottle of rosé! 

Images below from plantriverside.com

Peregrin

Located at the top of the Perry Lane Hotel, Peregrin is a relaxed and fun place to grab a drink whether you are staying at the hotel or not! With charming bistro furniture, delicious cocktails and sweeping views of the city, this is such a great spot! 

Images from perrylanehotel.com

Artillery Bar

Artillery is a beautiful and cozy cocktail bar with historic charm and modern glamour. The perfect place to stop in for a for a glass of champagne before dinner or a nightcap.  Wear your best when you visit, you will not find t-shirts and flip-flops in the elevated establishment but you will find delicious drinks, attentive bar tenders and a wonderful atmosphere!

Shop

The Paris Market

In a beautiful building on a corner of Broughton Street, The Paris Market is one of my favorite shops in Savannah!  Inside you will find two floors of carefully curated antique and modern goods for the home, and so much more! On the first floor is a small café that Architectural Digest named “The Most Beautiful Coffee Shop in Georgia.” Grab a coffee and a macaroon as you explore the space! From hand-crafted jewelry, coffee table books, french soaps and perfumes, and a lovely children’s sections to a beautifully decorated table filled with stunning tableware, decorative objects, linens and candles, there is so much to look and all is wonderful! Southern Living selected Paris Market as “the South’s Best Shop” stating: “Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, prepare to get lost in a wonderland of the most incredible goods.” The Paris Market is a must visit while in Savannah!

Images below from theshopkeepers.com

Savannah Bee Company 

You have likely seen Savannah bee company honey in many places by now as the company has grown greatly over the years, but Savannah is its true home. With a location on Broughton Street and one on River Street, Savannah Bee Company has every type of honey you can imagine as well as body care and products for the home. Stop in and try some samples and take home a taste of Savannah.

Images below from visitsavannah.com, google.com, perrylanehotel.com

Brick House

Brick House is a beautiful shop inspired by the French countryside. With an eclectic mix of highly curated products for the home, kitchen, and garden including vintage finds and handcrafted items, this is a lovely shop to stop in while exploring historic Savannah.

Images below from brickhouseliving.com

The Printed Peach

If you love Lily Pulitzer, this is the shop for you! They offer a full assortment of the best and brightest Lilly Pulitzer collections, as well as brands like Stoney Clover Lane, Kenzie Collective, Teleties, boutique jewelry, gift, accessories, and more!

Images below from instagram.com

ShopSCAD

ShopSCAD is beautiful store on Madison Square that sells one-of-a-kind pieces that are the works of current and alumni SCAD students. You'll find paintings, jewelry, home decor, books, stationery and so more! Be sure to stop in and support these talented students!

Images below from scad.edu, visitsavannah.com

Copper Penny 

Copper Penny on Broughton Street offers a well curated selection of women's clothing and accessories from well-known brands such as Trina Turk, Amanda Uprichard and Micheal Star.

Terra Cotta

Nestelled into historic downtown, Terra Cotta is a beautiful boutique with a lovely selection of women's clothing, accessories, handbags, and shoes. Lifestyle and baby items, artisan jewelry pottery, leather goods, and more!

Hygge

Hygge is a fully sustainable shop offering everything from slow fashion and handmade jewelry to items that are designed to be reused, to home goods and pet gear - all eco-friendly! The aesthetic is minimal and neutral and worth stopping by if you are interested in sustainability.

Images below from paprikasouthern.com, indiegogo.com

Experience

Mercer Williams House Museum

The Mercer-Williams House was designed by John S. Norris, the grandfather of songwriter Johnny Mercer. Construction began in 1860 but was suspended due to the Civil War. The house was then sold before it was completed in 1868, no Mercer ever actually lived there. The home was eventually purchased by James Arthur Williams, an antiques dealer and historic preservationist. Mercer House is best know for the scene of the 1981 shooting death of Danny Hansford by, Jim Williams, a story that is retold in the 1994 John Berendt book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. The house is also featured in the film adaptation of the book, released three years later. The house if beautiful and has such an interesting history!

Images below from mercerhouse.com

Juliette Gordon Low Birthplace

The birthplace Juliette Gordon Low, Founder of the Girls Scouts, is now a museum that offers guided tours and shares the fascinating life and world-changing legacy of Juliette Gordon Low. Worth a visit especially if you were a Girls Scout!

Images from exploregeorgia.org, juliettegordonlowbirthplace.org

The Jepson Center

Part of the Telfair Museum group, the Jespson Center is a beautiful modern building with works from notable American artists including Jasper Johns, Chuck Close, Roy Lichtenstein, Jeff Koons, and Cecily Brown. A fantastic museum to visit if you are interested in art or looking for an indoor activity.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this post! If you’ve been to Savannah and have a favorite place to eat, stay or shop…let me know in the comments! Have a great day!

[hellobed2022]

Luxurious Armchair High Back Lounge Accent Chair Designer

High Quality Material Rose collection of Arm chairs combines comfort and durability in a stylish contemporary package. This classy arm chair is upholstered in rich, high-quality linen fabric with a beautiful green colour.

Floral Print It has seamed grid pattern on it and detailed floral printing is done to present a jolly vibe in your room. Constructed with strong wooden frame and padded seat, these will provide maximum comfort and stability. Plush pillow back cushions crafted with high-density foam ensure superior comfort, while a strong hardwood frame promises years of reliable use.

Strong Support It is elevated by the wooden feet which provide strong support and stability. The posh and attractive demeanor of this Arm chair makes for the perfect addition to your living room.

Key Features:

Sturdy Construction with Solid Wooden Frame Upholstered with Finest Linen Fabric Filler with High Density Foam Pocket Spring Seat Wooden Legs

Product Specifications:

Product dimension:L-80 x W-83 x H-102cm Box dimensions:L-82x W-84x H-85cm Product weight: 24kg Box weight: 26kg Packaging type: Assembled

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This home in Los Angeles, California has a sleek black exterior, but the interior is so colorful and so quirky, it’s surprising.

Step inside and there’s a zigzag stained glass inner door, cloud wallpaper and bright pink area rugs.

The living room wall opens directly out to the pool, and weird sofas match the tree stump and gnome tables dotting the bright blue carpet. 

The dining room table has multicolored chairs and a table with a giant rock sticking thru it. Notice the 3 smaller rocks lined up on the table. A bubble-like lighting fixture hovers above. This house is quirky. 

The kitchen is such a dark green, it looks black at times. Notice the iridescence in the tile. Bright red dishes displayed in a glass cabinet give the whole look a pop. 

A dark banquette in the corner is brightened by a white table for two.

An Asian-inspired family room opens to a terrace and features a fun standing mirror in the shape of a person. 

The powder room is completely made of terrazzo, even the sink. 

Minimalist bright red retro bedroom. 

In this lounge, a daybed is upholstered with a patchwork quilt.

I can’t even describe this room. The headboard is just weird, especially the branch hanging out of it’s mouth.

The shower is actually the whole room, but I don’t see a drain in the floor. The tub is wood box. 

It has a lovely yard with a beautiful pool and a bright red barn. 

https://www.desiretoinspire.net/category/colour/page/2/

[lokisgoodgirl]

Praise Him [Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader] 18+

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Set just before Thor Ragnarok. You know Loki’s secret...and it’s not all security council meeting that’s keeping “Odin” busy on Asgard. (w/c 2.6k) Warnings: Smut. 18+ advised, NSFW, minors DNI!

You paced past the palace guards quickly, nodding to several that you recognised who smiled knowingly to each other as you made your way towards Odin’s rooms.

Your long, cream chiffon gown trailed the stone marble floor behind you, half gathered in your hand as you made your way quickly down the flight of stairs that led to your destination.

You didn’t have a chance to knock before the door edged open, a warm flickering light beckoning you inside. Show-off, you thought. 

  Odin stood in his dressing gown by the fireplace, staring into the flames as they licked the edges of the grate. "Does it bother you", he started, "that everyone in this palace thinks you’re an old man’s whore?" He turned questioningly towards you as he said it… all traces of the regal dialect he saved for daytime hours gone from his voice. A familiar green shimmer rained around his frame, simultaneously stretching and slimming the figure within it, fading to reveal his true form. His long raven hair was tucked behind his ears revealing more of his alabaster jawline while a dark green tunic covered his upper body, leading down to those tight leather trousers he wore so beautifully. "Well?" He drank from his goblet, eyebrows raised for your response.

You sighed. He asked you this at least twice a week when he was feeling particularly insecure, and your answer was always the same. "Loki...I do not care what those people think. They mean nothing. You are my King, my lover, the only one who can bring my pleasure I had never known  - your thoughts are the only ones I care to stay in".

 As you had spoken, he had begun walking towards you and you felt the lust radiate from him hotter than the warmth of the fire. Hands dove into your hair and brought your lips crashing to his, his body melting into yours as he towered above you, bending you to his will. His hand found the slit in the long layers of your dress which gathered around your feet, feeling the familiar cool pressure sliding rhythmically up your inner thigh. Without breaking the kiss, he ran two long fingers through your folds, back to front, stopping momentarily to dip the very edge of them in to your waiting heat before exiting your dress once more. "Mmmmm, have you been thinking about us all day my love or was that a particularly good kiss?" he winked as he brought the two fingers coated with your juices to his lips, sucking them lightly. It never got old. You loved him with your whole heart, your body, your eternal soul – and tonight, you would show him in a way you knew he would understand.

"Let me worship you, my King" you said, trailing your fingers down his chest. "Worship you like you deserve. All your subjects praise you as Odin but I wish to praise you for what you are. My King, Loki. My God, Loki." You pulled at the leather fastenings of his trousers wantonly, biting your lip.

You didn’t know if part of his brain had shut down from over-stimulation, or he was very much in God-mode, but he wordlessly turned and made his way stridently to the finely upholstered chaise lounge near the balcony. When he looked at you again, you knew your little game had been accepted. His blue eyes had darkened to deep pools of desire as he reclined on the seat, spreading his legs in a deep V and resting one forearm carelessly on the arm of the chair. The entire scene before you almost made you cum for him where you stood as the light flickered flirtatiously on the sheen of leather still obnoxiously covering his body.

‘Kneel’

Gods above, his commanding voice still did things to you even after many months of secretive evening liaisons. The way it reverberated from your ears to your pussy was an instant high that no one could hope to match – and you hoped they never would. You took your time crossing the space between you, ensuring he had a full view of your low cut bodice as you sank to your knees before him, ‘Oh I see you, darling. It’s a nice dress – but the colour is far too virginal for my tastes’ he smirked down at you, hips making small jerks of anticipation as you saw his length grow under the thick leather, begging to be freed.

You leaned between his legs, cleavage balanced on his growing cock as you placed a kiss on the centre of his chest, hands caressing up his thighs. He moaned, thrusting upwards fruitlessly at the thought of sliding his length between your mounds. "My Love..." you murmured, beginning to unbutton his tunic. "My King." You placed deep kisses on the exposed skin, working lower and lower with practised restraint. "My God".

As soon as the final word left your lips, his stoicism was broken. Loki’s head fell back with a guttural moan filled with need as you toyed with the leather fastening of his trousers once more. Without lifting his head, Loki waved his fingers and the trousers dissipated in a flash of green revealing his perfect cock, thick and ready for your ministrations.

"How can I serve you, my King?" You looked up at him innocently with wide-eyes as he raised his head in disbelief. "You know exactly how, my devoted vestal virgin" he smirked, "and make it slow, I want to feel how much you love the taste of my cock inside that pretty mouth of yours."

You moaned compliance, placing a single lick on the tip of his throbbing member as your hand wrapped around the base to angle it just so. Loki was long and thick, but not uncomfortably – he was just perfect...in all ways, it seemed. You kissed up the sides of his length, elongated, messy kisses which coated the sides of his cock with your saliva while whispering sweet praise; you are the greatest King Asgard has ever had, can ever hope to have…you should be worshipped my beloved...your body should be worshipped the way your mind should be valued above all others...mmm let me taste my God’s cock deep inside me, make me worthy of you..make me worthy of your touch...

Loki’s breathing was a series of deep inhales and short exhales, pacing himself. You knew he was listening, hanging on every word that spilled from your lips while worshipping what was between his legs, while worshipping him. His index finger found its way to your jawline, tracing a smooth stripe from below your ear; his signal to take things further. Obediently you took the head of his cock in your warm mouth, sucking lightly on the tip while swirling your tongue gently. Faint moans escaped your throat as you saw him relax further, chin resting close to his chest as he watched you intensely. His eyes never leaving the sight of his manhood penetrating between those insatiable lips he ravaged so often.

He would never tire of this sight. You slid his whole length down your throat, taking him by surprise. He threw his head back again, releasing a strangled growl of pleasure louder than he intended. His fingers moved again releasing a liquid glow and you knew that a sound barrier now encased the room. You were truly concealed from prying ears who may be curious about Odin’s carnal habits. This theory was confirmed by the sounds that now rained loudly from your God’s lips, curses in old Nordic spilled in quick succession as you sucked his perfect length with the slow and steady rhythm you knew he craved.

"Who’s my loyal subject...my true believer, you are...aren’t you my precious girl…you would do anything for me, for your King." It was not a question that required an answer, but you hummed your enthusiastic agreement as he joined your efforts by thrusting his hips slowly upward in time with you.

His hands were gripping the seat now, you could see the defined muscles on his thighs standing to attention as he fought the urge to spill hot cum down your throat. "You are worthy of my attention because I choose you, you dirty girl...look at you on your knees worshipping your God in the only way which befits you." He grimaced, teeth bared to the vaulted ceiling with his eyes closed – you knew that had been a close call. The words coming out of his own mouth could tip him over the edge, and he didn’t want this to end – not yet.

 Sensing the change in pace, you slid his member over your tongue and returned to placing kisses on his length, rougher this time and more needy. You could feel the wetness between your legs which had been building since you came through the door, it had spread to the tops of your thighs from the friction of your activities. You turned your attention to his balls which hung tight and proud underneath his perfect dick, scratching your nails down them lightly. He hissed his approval as he re-centred himself after the near misfire, "mmmm, again" he purred, and you complied. You lightly sucked the head of his cock, pulling the skin of his balls gently as he moaned in pleasure, but the sounds that he was making were becoming too much to bear – your pussy was crying for attention.

  You raised your head gently to look at him, his usually perfectly coiffured hair increasingly dishevelled with the effort of holding back, "Your Grace, can I show you the full extent of my admiration?" you cooed. He nodded darkly, sitting up on the chair and beckoning you to his lap but you shook your head, your curls sticking momentarily to the pre-cum coating your lips. "The bed – my King". Loki rose and took your hand, as you guided him to the enormously plush bed in the centre of the room.

He sat on the edge with the same proud stance as before, legs spread, forearm resting on one muscular thigh now coated with a thin sheen of sweat watching you undress. Your virginal gown fluttered to your feet and you kicked it to the side, enjoying the narrowing of his eyes when your nakedness was revealed in the soft glow of the firelight. You crawled on to his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you brought him in to a deep kiss and his hands found their way to your ass, cupping both cheeks with ease as he scooted you closer to his centre.

   You raised your hips, brushing the head of his cock with your dripping pussy, ‘darling, you’re so wet...so needy for me, my beautiful believer’, his smooth voice murmured with anticipation as you hovered above him. "Yes, my King…I need you inside me, I need to feel your power thrust into me, to undo me as only you can". Slowly you sank down an inch on to the head, and Loki’s eyes fluttered shut as the tight heat enveloped him. "Mmm, does my God like that? Is my cunt worthy of such a prize?" Loki’s eyes bore into yours, pressing down on your ass, willing you to drop further. You relinquished another inch. "How did I become blessed with the King of Asgard deigning to fuck this unworthy pussy the way he does? There is no-one more powerful in all the Nine Realms your Majesty... you could have anyone you choose" you whispered into his ear, feeling him shiver despite the heat of the room.

With one swift movement, he snaps his hips upward, impaling his whole length inside you. Now it’s your turn to moan – undignified grunts of pleasure dropping from your lips and being caught by unending kisses from the God beneath you. With a loud moan, your raven-haired lover fell backwards on the bed, pulling you with him. His cock slipped out of you and then re-entered with ease to your dripping channel, eliciting another moan of need from both of you. "Who do you serve, my darling?", he hummed as your hips rocked back and forth along his length. "Only you my God – I serve only you" you murmured as you felt his thumb skim over your clit, timed with perfection to your thrusts.

You could feel your orgasm building, not least of all because of the sight beneath you – Loki, completely undone and ravenous with need. He watched you with an intense fascination as he always did when he was completely in the moment. You could feel his thrusts becoming less controlled, his breathing becoming ragged as his free hand traced your breasts, your waist...looking for something to steady his rapidly approaching climax. Perfect.

"Loki...will you bless me with your cum? Will you do that for me...your most loyal subject?" You gave him your most seductive gaze, his eyebrows knitted with concentration as he fought to hold back the explosion rising inside of him at your words. "When you haven’t made your offering little one? I think not", he managed to retort. His voice was strained. The effort of maintaining a semblance of sarcasm making him quiver. "I want every piece of you, every drop of your sweet pilgrim cum to be running down my royal cock – a sacrifice to your God".

He propped himself up on his elbows, bending his knees to bring you closer to him, and wrapped your legs around his waist before sliding his hands underneath your ass once more, lifting you barely off the bed.

The angle was exquisite, his cock pressed straight to your core – it was too much. He kissed you, not the kiss of domination, but of pure and passionate trust. "Cum for me, my darling – show me how much you love me", He didn’t have to ask twice. From this angle, his thrusts were slow and purposeful, hitting their target every time. By the seventh thrust, you were spinning into your orgasm; his name falling from your lips like a prayer, praising his name like a choir in church.

His forehead pressed against you as he finally let go, a ferocious growl tumbling from his throat as he rode his own climax to completion, moaning your name into the ether as his seed spilled into you, mingling with your own.

 For a few moments, the crackling of the fire was the only sound in Odin’s chambers as you and Loki sat intertwined on the bed, his cock still sheathed inside you – the two of you savouring the moments where you could truly be yourselves. Finally, he spoke, ‘thank you, my darling." You looked at him, concern on your face as you cupped his smooth cheek in your hand, "whatever for? You know I can’t get enough of you."

He returned your smile weakly. "No, not for that...although that was...particularly enjoyable – no, I meant thank you for keeping my secret... all...this", he gestured to the room surrounding you. You sighed, ‘Loki...you trusted me with your plan out of...well, everyone. That means more to me than anything. Fortune can come and go, but this..." You kissed him gently, ‘...this is the path I choose. You are my King, with or without a crown." Loki buried his face in your thigh to the side of him, gently biting your flesh absent mindedly as he pondered your words. ‘I love you, Y/N’, he whispered. The sincerity of his voice told you everything you needed to know. ‘I love you too, Loki’. 

And for that, you would always praise him.

[writingscraps]

Midnight Teasing

ao3 | ff.net 

ship: Marinette x Chat Noir

rating: T (might go up)

summary: 

“Sometimes you take it too far, Chat. What will you do if I fall in love with you?” Marinette challenged, allowing the casual act of his kiss-on-hand take place before releasing said hand. 

“Then I’ll simply love you back,” he vowed, leaning closer towards her with a toothy grin taking a stance as he winked at her.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together as they stared at him with low confidence. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, silly cat.”

Usually, Chat Noir didn’t stop by the Dupain-Cheng residence for the baked goods, but he couldn’t deny just how heavenly they truly were against his tongue. The cat-boy merrily sat on his friend’s chaise, with his legs crossed underneath him, munching as he held a plate of what-used-to-be-full of freshly-out-the-oven gingerbread cookies in his hands. It smelt like Christmas, appropriate considering the time of year; and although he knew it was probably the too-many baked goods, it gave his tummy a fuzzy feeling.  

“Sorry, Princess,” he sighed contently, softly placing the plate on the floor as he began laying down, unfolding his body about the upholstered sofa, stretching his arms above his head while extending the tips of his boots outwardly, yawning exaggeratedly. “You weren’t fast enough to get your share of the cookies.”  

Marinette huffed, stopping the concentration she had been giving her sewing machine as she worked on a project, turning her body to stare at the superhero lounging lazily. “Chat, you seriously ate all the cookies?” She wanted to be upset, but as she watched the boy nod with no resentment whatsoever, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes in an endearing manner. “One cookie, Chat. Just one.”  

“I don’t think you would have liked them very much. Too gingery.”  

“Aha. Says the cat that ate all of them.”  

He seemed too comfortable, making her own droopy eyes want to shut, pretty tired herself. It was then that she began rolling her chair towards her monitor as she wondered about the time, not realizing just how late it was. She needed to be in bed now, and that meant it was time to kick her good ole’ friend out the window – even if she didn’t want to.  

“Well, Chat,” she sighed, standing with a light stretch, “it’s time to call it a night.”  

“You’re not seriously kicking me out because I ate all the cookies?”  

Marinette laughed out loud at his offended tone, shaking her head, “Although it is a good enough reason, that is not why. But I do have school tomorrow.”  

Chat Noir was quick to sit up on his knees, observing the young girl try and pop her back by placing her palms against her hips as she arched her pelvis forward. Her eyes closed momentarily as she scrunched her nose. He shouldn’t had been drawn by her simple movements, but he couldn’t deny that was.  

“Need some help?” He called after her, a teasing tone – rather than a genuine one – skipped towards her just as she opened her eyes to glare at him.  

She scoffed, her own playful grin spreading about her cheeks as she shook her head, “I’ve got it, but thanks.”  

And as though having the need to play his part, the superhero too easily and too quickly crawled out the sofa to make his way towards her. Within a blink of an eye, her abnormally large eyes stared directly into his green ones just as he stood in front of her. “If you’d let me, I can help you feel good,” he promised, his voice hoarse and low, with his lips just a tad too close to hers. He seemed serious, no goofy grin faltering his demeanor as she felt the claws of his gloves softly skim down her forearm unexpectedly.  

“Chat.” Marinette groaned, suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed at the intentional misinterpretation to his comment. “Out,” she demanded, attempting to back away from him, but her clumsiness never failing to take a part of her everyday life caused her to stumble backwards. She was casually rescued by the fast reflexes that were of the suave kitty-cat.  

His hands hooked around her back just as she was about to crash against her floor, and her cheeks were steaming. She could feel the burning sensation dragging itself up her throat and over her cheeks towards her ears. Chat Noir simply chuckled delightfully, “Princess, you simply must stop falling me.”  

Such an overused line, but that didn’t stop her heart from beating so hard against her chest. “Chat,” she sighed, very obviously annoyed as she attempted to escape his grip.

These interactions had begun feelings like a cat-and-mouse-chase, but if she were being honestly, she hadn’t attempted to stop his teasing advancements past their usual bantering. She never truly paid them much attention, because usually they weren’t much to them; now, they’ve began getting out of hand.  

“You sure love saying my name,” he grinned shamelessly.  

After a few wiggles, the young girl was freed, as the blonde boy swiftly pulled them up and quickly reached for her hand to kiss. “Oh, don’t be mad,” he sing-sang, “I was simply teasing.”  

“Sometimes you take it too far, Chat. What will you do if I fall in love with you?” Marinette challenged, allowing the casual act of his kiss-on-hand take place before releasing said hand.  

“Then I’ll simply love you back,” he vowed, leaning closer towards her with a toothy grin taking a stance as he winked at her.  

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together as they stared at him with low confidence. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, silly cat.”  

Marinette tossed and turned actually upset now because she had been dying to go sleep not too long ago when Chat Noir was still in her bedroom. If it hadn’t been for his very casual Casanova mannerisms, she wouldn’t have him running around her mind. It wasn’t that she was in love with Chat Noir, but she also wasn’t blind and could secretly admit that he was a very attractive superhero – even if just to herself.  

But only as far as that.  

But sometimes he was too smooth with his teasing words, she’d find herself wanting to believe them. She huffed, smacking her bed with a flat palm, groaning loudly.  

“Marinette,” Tikki called, her voice in a hushed whisper having been woken up suddenly. “Are you alright?”  

“He can be so- so- ugh!”

“You’re still upset about Chat Noir?” Her Kwami inquired, as the magical creature had been a firsthand witness to the development of Chat Noir’s flirtatiousness over the single year that he had found himself climbing into her bedroom. Their interactions began very causal and light, until they weren’t.  

Marinette had never had a problem pushing him away with just the tip of her finger against his nose, but each passing visitation, she’d stutter and find herself wanting to melt into a puddle. But she didn’t like him like that, or so her holder swore.  

Marinette wanted to lie and say ‘no’, but she was still very much upset. What game was he playing?  

“You know, Tikki,” Marinette spoke into her dark bedroom, illuminated by her the uncovered windows and skylight right above her, “I bet he wouldn’t be as poised if...”  

After a pause too long, Tikki called after her, “If what, Marinette?”  

The young girl chuckled out loud in a very much “I can’t believe I’m going to do this” tone, as she dragged a palm down her face, answering, “Oh, nothing, Tikki. I’m just venting.”  

-:-  

Four days. Four days!  

Why hadn’t Chat Noir paid a visit in such a long time? So, it wasn’t a long time, as they’d actually had gone much longer without seeing each other as civilian and superhero. But still.  

It was past ten at night, Marinette noticed, a smile tugging at her lips as she clipped a few loose strands from the scarf she had been working on. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Alya, that she had been making Chat Noir a scarf as a Christmas gift. It was a very simple design; fully black with neon-green thin lines as a pattern, and a small paw in the corner. Very on-brand. She didn’t think it’d keep him warm, if he decided to use it as outwear, but it was the thought that counted.  

She folded the scarf and neatly stuffed it inside the decorative paper bag, along with some catnip as an inside joke, where she had planned to gift it in. Tikki had gone to bed a while back, and Marinette had almost given in until she heard a very light knock coming from her skylight.  

She didn’t want to smile as big as her lips were widening, but she couldn’t contain herself. Tonight would be the night Chat Noir had a taste of his own medicine.  

“Two cookies? That’s all?” Chat Noir groaned when Marinette climbed up the stairs from her kitchen with a plate of said cookies and a glass full of milk. She knew he was the holder of the cat miraculous, but did he really have to play the role so seriously?  

Marinette scoffed, handing him the dishes, “After what you pulled last time, do you really think I’m risking my cookies?”  

He sighed drastically, “Alas, I will accept them. A short-lived joy, but joy nevertheless.”  

She laughed, never a dull thing coming out of his mouth, responding with her typical eye-roll when it came to him. “Just eat them, Chat.”  

It was past midnight when Chat Noir noticed his friend yawn softly, covering her mouth with both hands. Cute. She had been sitting on her chaise, her back against the sofa as she had been watching the cat-boy straddling her pink desk chair as he twirled. He had stopped not long ago when he accidently unbalanced the chair by drifting too far to the side, abandoning the chair all together after she began laughing hysterically at him. He hadn’t thought it was that funny. He, instead, casually reaching for a sketchbook that had been laying by her desktop computer and flipped it open.  

“Feeling sleepy, Princess?” Chat Noir asked, taking a moment to stop skimming through the pages of endless designs to look up at her.  

“Just a little.” She answered truthfully, not wanting him to leave. Not yet. She was on a mission.  

“Maybe,” he cleared his throat, closing the sketchbook loud enough to startle her before placing it back on the desk. She recognized that gaze. It was like his whole persona changed, as though he was trying to catch his prey.  

His lips easily turned into a smirk as he made his way to her, not wasting time and placing each hand on each side of her torso, trapping her in position. “...we should go to bed.”  

Marinette wanted to laugh, she wanted to smack him silly, because the way he talked to her he definitely practiced in front of a mirror.  

“I will be going to bed,” she said, “you will be going home.” This time she didn’t attempt pushing him away, as she typically would.  

Stick to it, Marinette. Stick to it.  

There was a swirl at the pit of her stomach, her eyes daring and confident as they tried to match those of Chat Noir.  

“So, no sleepover?” He continued to tease, his posture lowering slightly. His mouth skid itself against her cheek, and she did shiver this time. Although very lightly, his lips bumped onto her skin, not stopping until reaching her jawline just before reaching the crook of her neck.  

Odd. Usually, she’d stop him before he’d get this far.  

He pulled away slightly, searching her eyes, but they were tightly shut with a veil of rosy cheeks on her face. She was nervous, but he’d always manage to make her nervous. That was why he loved teasing her so much. She was so easy to taunt, it was adorable. She’d smack him away, ask him to go away, and he’d go away but always came back.  

She knew he didn’t mean any of those things. That was the set-up of their game.  

When Marinette stopped feeling Chat Noir’s breathing on her cheek, she opened her eyes, staring at him behind her long eyelashes. He was so close.  

She smelled of vanilla; intoxicatingly sweet. Her back was still pushed against the reclining of the sofa, now staring at him with doe-like eyes with her lower lip pouted down. She was wearing her usual pigtails, hovering messily over and behind her almost bare shoulders, as she waited, it seemed.  

“Don’t tease.” She called after him, her voice low and soft and enchanting. Her whisper almost seemed like a fragment of his very attentive imagination. He could hear her breathing very clearly considering how close she was to him. She could feel his breathing press against her nose.  

“W-what?” He called after her, feeling like he had been pulled out of a daze, not expecting to get this far. Never this far.  

“You promised,” she muttered, “that you would...”  

He could feel a knot begin to suffocate his throat. “Th-that I would...?”  

Marinette’s eyelashes fluttered quickly, her now droopy eyelids shifting her eyes to stare down at his mouth. She pushed herself slightly forward, but not kissing him, just close enough to breathe him in.  

“...not tease,” she finally finished her statement, her lips turning into a bashful smile. It was small and bashful but bewitching nonetheless. But before she could begin laughing and poke fun for always teasing her about such things, and relish on the victory that she finally did it back, Chat Noir bumped his mouth into hers.  

Marinette’s eyes went wide as she felt his lips harshly press into hers, as one of his hands easily wrapped itself behind her back while the other took hold of her face. His clawed hand cupped her ear, with its fingers digging into her hair and adjusting her head’s posture.  

His kiss was rough at first, taking as much as he could of her. His teeth scraped her top lip, gently tugging against, subtly whimpering at her. Her mouth widen so easily at his demand, pushing herself forward, ignoring the flutter of ladybug wings flapping at the pit of her stomach.  

She should have pushed him away, she wanted to push him away – maybe? Her hands didn’t know what to do, as she hadn’t expected anything out of this game. She was supposed to be laughing at him, not melting like room-temperature butter.  

continue reading in my ao3 or ff.net account

[stuffdtothemaxxarchive]

In which the reader gets whisked away by the fae and turns into a spoiled and fattened pet

Warnings: kidnapping, force feeding, explicit NSFW, fattening to immobility, breaking furniture, nudity, human pet, master/slave dynamics

Tags: (extreme) weight gain, fantasy setting, royalty

You can’t quite remember how things turned out like this.

You definitely remember walking in the forest, and coming across a girl with long brown hair and striking green eyes, who you discovered was named Andrea, and she offered you a snack. You didn’t really think anything of it at the time, but as soon as you swallowed, the world seemed to suddenly change around you.

You remember seeing Andrea’s ears become pointy, and a silvery pair of wings sprouting from her back— you’d made a mistake that day. You ate food from the fae. And now you were doomed to live within their realm forever.

Well, doomed was a strong word to use— as soon as you arrived to a village of fairies, they quickly whisked you away, stripping you of your clothes and dressing you in a soft silk gown that left very little to the imagination. You were soon presented to their queen— a woman dressed in a long silver gown, her bright red hair pulled back neatly. Her striking auburn eyes looked you over, and she smiled as she offered you a place to sit by her throne.

You were seated in a chair upholstered in velvet, and soon the food came. Various cheeses, wines, fruits, meats, deserts— as much as your poor belly could handle. Once the entire session was over, your belly was as tight as a drum, and you felt much too stuffed to move. Thankfully, the queen’s servants were able to hoist you out of your seat and carry you off to the queen’s chambers.

The queen gently began to rub your belly as she explained to you the situation at hand. Her name was Selene, and she was the queen of the fae in these woods. Lately, she had fancied that she wanted a human pet— many other fae queens kept humans as pets to keep them company— and to also act as her consort. You didn’t really see any other option at this point, having eaten so much fae food, so you agreed to stay.

After that, the days slowly began to blur together. Most of your day was spent lounging by Selene’s throne, feeding yourself pastries and drinking fine wine as she attended to her royal duties. Your every need was taken care of by her attendants— Andrea being one of them. The two of you got along very well, and Selene agreed to let her be your personal servant.

Andrea attended to your every need. She awoke you in the morning, fed you breakfast, helped you dress, escort you to the throne room, kept you fed throughout the day, helped you bathe, and lay you down to sleep. You barely had to lift a finger anymore. Really, the most movement you seemed to be doing was using your mouth to chew your food and occasionally walk from room to room. But sometimes you even needed assistance with that, especially after a particularly large meal.

Due to the sudden change in your lifestyle, your middle began to soften rather quickly. What was once a rather flat stomach turned into a chubby belly, and you only seemed to be getting bigger by the day. The excess fat soon began to appear in places you hadn’t previously expected— on your arms, your thighs, your cheeks, even your fingers.

You remember one particular evening that a few queens from neighboring kingdoms came to visit, and they also brought along their human pets. The majority of them were much bigger than you were— and you had to admit, their size slightly intimidated you. Most of them had to be wheeled in on special carts, save for one who was just barely able to waddle from place to place.

The neighboring queens quickly flocked over to you— it had been some time since they had seen a human pet be so tiny. They pinched your chubby cheeks and poked at your softened middle, making you giggle due to how ticklish you were. From the corner of your eye, you saw Selene beaming with pride.

A banquet was held that night, and you were seated in a special chamber for the human pets. The room was large, and the floor was covered in soft blankets and pillows. The other pets spent most of their time gorging themselves, every so often looking your way to watch you try to keep up with their insatiable appetites.

The one other pet who was still mobile— Jena was their name— asked you how long you had been with Selene. You thought for a moment, and replied with a simple shrug of your shoulders, since your mouth was currently full of food and you didn’t want to be rude.

Jena seemed to understand that. They explained to you that time worked differently in the fae world. It was impossible to tell time the way humans did, because their concept of time doesn’t match the human concept. You nodded along as you finished your third glass of wine, sparking a small laugh from Jena. With a bit of a struggle, they got up and waddled closer to you. Once they were close enough, they sat down again, and quickly began to stuff more food into your mouth. You were much too skinny! It wouldn’t do at all! They wanted to personally make sure that you finished this meal with as full of a belly as you could possibly handle.

When Selene came with the others to bring their pets back home, you were more bloated with food and wine than you ever had been before. You laid on the floor helplessly, unable to move. You desperately attempted to roll onto your side, but you didn’t move an inch, and the sudden movement caused a rather loud burp to escape you. The other queens helped you to get upright, and as the others left, Andrea helped you back to your chambers.

Days soon blended into months. You were getting bigger and softer by the day. At this point, you likely weighed close to four hundred pounds, and you found yourself to become much more winded than usual when performing simple tasks. Thankfully, Andrea was there to assist you, making sure to keep you fed while also keeping you nice and clean— a bit of a difficult task, since doing so much as walking from room to room caused you to break into a sweat.

The day finally came when your chair broke from underneath you. Selene had been signing some royal documents, and Andrea had been feeding you some grapes; you collapsed to the ground with a resounding thud, your fat wobbling as you landed on your soft bottom. When the shock wore off, Selene quickly dismissed her servants and had Andrea assist you to her royal bed chambers.

Selene quickly stripped the satin gown off of you— at this point, you were likely past the five hundred pound mark, and any sharp angles that you might have once had were replaced with rolls of plush fat. You didn’t have very many stretch marks, save for a few that stretched across the very top of your plush belly. Every joint you had was now at least partially covered with fat, and your genitals were covered by a rather large pad of fat.

That seemed to be exactly what the queen wanted first, her hand diving under your fatness to try to find your genitalia— when she did find them, you released a rather loud moan. It had been some time since you had been touched down there, and the sensation sent ripples down your body.

Selene snapped her fingers, and when she did, a plate appeared with an entire cake on it. Through magic, bite-sized bits detached themselves and flew into your mouth, which you happily accepted.

The two of you went at this for what felt like hours— pleasuring you while she fed you, getting herself off by climbing on top of your huge gut and grinding against it until she came, then pleasuring you again, and the cycle kept going and going until you finally passed out, both from exhaustion and a rather heavy food coma.

After you broke your chair, your seat beside Selene was replaced with a pile of plush blankets and pillows for you to lounge on. Slowly, the robes you wore began to fit less and less, until one finally ripped during one of your meals. After that, you were allowed to simply be nude— your genitals were buried under fat rolls, after all, so it wasn’t like you were totally exposed to whoever came to visit.

The day finally came when you could barely make it out of bed. The sheer amount of fat rolls that had accumulated on your body made it near impossible for you to move or roll over. The solution to this, of course, was to move your mattress to the throne room. You took your final steps out of your bed chambers that day— slow, lazy steps that more resembled a waddle than anything— but it was your final steps nonetheless.

Ever since then, you’ve been spending your days being pampered in the queen’s throne room. You have several attendants who serve you— some constantly feed you, while others help you wash off, and Andrea was the only one beside the queen who was allowed to help you when you felt an urge down there. At this point, your limbs had been completely swallowed by fat. Your arms dangled lazily at your sides, your sausage-sized fingers only moving whenever you pointed at a new treat to eat. Your belly stretched out at least a foot in front of you, framed perfectly by your huge legs, though they were barely recognizable as such. Your knees and feet had long ago been covered in fat as well, so they ended up looking more like shapeless mounds of dough than actual limbs. Just barely, you could still wiggle your toes, but you knew that soon that too would become a distant memory.

You felt content in this state, being pampered while royalty watched on with fondness. And every night, before you drifted off into another food coma and Selene retired to her chambers, she would leave a kiss on what used to be your cheek, but was now just another fat roll. You smiled as best you could as she left the throne room, leaving you to drift off again into a bliss-filled sleep.

[growup-thatbeautiful]

id love to see a timmy fic based on lover!! love ur work sm :-)

omg thank you so much :))) i love lover so much, i just listened to the whole album the other day aaaaaa

send me a song and i’ll write a fic!

lover

it’s way beyond christmas time, and your tree is still up. so are the porcelain christmas town houses that you still have from growing up. along with the christmas decorations are new years banners and some confetti.

it’s not a problem, however, because there’s no one who can tell you to clean it up. timothee likes the ambiance just as you do, and this is the house that the two of your share together. no one else can really tell you what to do with your interior designing.

you love this house. it’s a perfect mix of the two of you. his taste tends to be more vintage. you laughed when he told you that, because the amount of period pieces he’s been in should of let you know.

you lean towards a more bohemian style, plants that timothee complains about but “secretly” sings too. bright colored rugs and art prints sit alongside delicate tea cups and chaise lounges in a unique style that somehow works.

every room has a different feel to it. the living room covered in plants and deep green velvet, the bedroom with its pink desk and bedspread, and the dining rooms blue upholstered chairs and patterned rug.

it’s a special place, and it’s even more special because you get to live there with the person that you love, the person that you’re pretty sure you want to spend the rest of your life with.

you’re in the kitchen right now, debating if you should bring a coat to meet some of your friends. timothee is, predictably, getting ready upstairs.

“come on, we don’t want to be late,” you call to timothee, knowing that it will do absolutely nothing to make him go faster.

“almost done,” he calls back. true to his word, he comes down the stairs dressed in a light sweater and dark jeans. “okay, let’s go.”

you grab the keys off their hook and toss them to timothee, who slides into the drivers seat.

the drive is relatively short, made shorter by easy conversation. your friends are already there when you arrive, sitting at a table. they jump up when they see the two of you, and run over to hug you.

after, you order food and start talking. your friends, lou and mike, mention something about the hotel they’re staying canceling the rest of their reservations because of troubles with the air conditioning.

“you guys can just crash at our place,” suggests timothee.

“yeah, we have plenty of room. and a extremely comfortable couch.”

“that we do,” says timothee. “it’s really not trouble at all. we’re always happy for the company of friends. plus,” he adds, “we have a whole bunch of cookies that we made yesterday. the recipe was a lot bigger than expected.”

“how could we say no to that,” smiles lou. “just let us pick our stuff up from the hotel, then we can be proper parasites on you.”

“wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

you head back home, lou and mike arrive a few minutes later, loaded with luggage. you help them with their bags and put them in the living room downstairs.

they stay for two nights. you’re always happy to host, especially friends like them.

they’re good guests, not making any huge messes and able to put up with you and timothee’s antics.

everything is perfectly fine until the last morning. you’re sitting in the living room with lou, timothee in the kitchen making coffee. he brings a mug in for you and then lou. once he’s gone, lou says “he really is the sweetest. you’re lucky to have a man like him. i’m sure he’s in high demand these days,” she jokes.

she means nothing by it, of course. you know that. she’s one of the sweetest people you know, but maybe that’s why it digs in. even she can see that timothee could have anyone.

“he sure is,” you say with a forced smile.

after coffee, lou and mike say their goodbyes. you try to forget about the comments, and you really are sad to see them go.

once they’re gone, you start doing the dishes. timothee comes up behind you and hugs you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“i could see some tension between you and lou. did something happen?” he asks.

“it’s stupid. it’s nothing.”

“come on, talk to me. we don’t need to fight.”you hate how desperate he sounds. you both absolutely hate fighting.

“we’re not fighting. there’s nothing to fight about.”

“you’re making this really difficult.”

“you won’t understand! because you’re you and i’m me!”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you don’t answer. “come on, you said it so it means something. tell me!” you don’t want to voice your fears because if you do then they’re more likely to come true. he’ll hear then and think “you know what, she’s right. i could do better.” and leave you in this house.

so, you run. you storm upstairs, past the bedroom and pull down the stairs that lead to the attic. once your up there, you set up the projector, and a film of the captured moments between you and timothee stars to play.

it’s bittersweet to look back on these moments, because you don’t know if you just ruined everything. a flash of when you surprised him on set, a someone took of you two dancing in the street to the tune of a band, and a clip of you and him playing in the snow last christmas.

you hear timothee coming up the stairs before you see him.

“hey, love. i’m sorry for the way that ended.”

“i am too. i know i shouldn’t run out like that, but i just…”

“got scared. i understand. i hate it when we fight. i don’t want us to end like that.”

“me neither.”

“are you ready to talk?” he asks. “it’s okay if you aren’t,” he adds. you think for a moment before replying.

“i just think that everyone wants you. and you, well let’s be honest, you could have anyone. i sometimes debate your choice of me. god, i hate feeling like this. jealousy is a waste of an emotion.” his features soften and he gives you a encouraging smile.

“honey, i’m yours. you don’t have to worry about that,” he says.

“i just feel like-i mean we’ve been together for almost three years, and i want us to be together for the rest of my years too. i keep getting scared that you’ll get bored of me. then we won’t get that time together.”

“as long as i have anything to say about it, we will,” he promises. “we’ve both been hurt by love like this in the past. love that seems perfect when it’s happening. i can tell you right now that i’ll try as hard as i can to stay with you like they didn’t in the past. as long as you’ll have me, i’ll be there for all your overdramatic reactions to every single photoshoot and movie.”

you pull him closer and drag him under the blanket, watching old home-videos together in the cold attic. it’s the room you two have spent the least amount of time designing together, for obvious reasons, but it’s the room that you think means the most to you at this moment.

[fuckyeahharryhart]

THE ART OF SEDUCTION Reader Insert

After working months at his side, whether it be in the field, during training, debriefing in his office, or simply occupying the same space in quieter moments- reading in the lounge with a cup of tea, enjoying a few precious moments of peace, you were no closer at deciphering the gorgeous mystery that was Harry Hart. Your time with him merely reinforced what you already knew. And what you knew had, much to your chagrin, become increasingly and disconcertingly distracting with every moment you shared space with him. Harry was beautiful, obviously. You determined that the moment you saw him. Even from a distance, he cut a striking figure. But it was the understated way he acknowledged his own appearance, knew that it was pleasing and accepted it with grace, dignity and a matter-of-factness, that only made him more attractive.

Harry Hart’s appeal wasn’t just based on his good looks. There were other men who had more classically balanced features. It was significantly more than good genes or the symmetry of bone structure. Not that his purely physical attributes were lacking in any regard. You had already committed to memory every aspect of his form and figure, from his hair, with a distinguished flurry of silver, all the way down to his feet in their gleaming oxfords. No doubt polished with every wearing; they carried him with purposeful movement and long measured strides.

Harry Hart was a tall man. Often folding his legs as gracefully as possible under tables and desks that were just a breath too short to accommodate a man of his stature. He carried himself differently. Always with a posture, walk, a gait, that had a purpose.  Never rushed unnecessarily, he possessed the ease of someone in full control of his physical body. His movements were light, sharp, and kinetic. When he was still, he held himself straight and tall, without strain. In more casual moments, his weight would shift to one side or the other, or he might lean against a support, breaking up the long, precise lines of his full height.

Mostly, this had to do with a hyper awareness of his environment and his place in it. If Harry needed to calm a new recruit, he might stand with authority, but tuck his hands in his pockets, conveying a sense of ease and familiarity. When confronting an adversary, his stature seemed to grow as he pulled himself to his full height.  In those rare moments where he was free from personal and professional obligations responsibilities, as much as he could ever be, his figure would take on smooth curves and relaxed angles. The space he occupied was his to claim, mould, and manipulate. And Harry Hart did so with his body, his voice, his gaze, his way of dress.

Surprisingly, you discovered that Harry was a man who often communicated through physical touch. As a man of few words, who often guarded his privacy and personal life, you expected him to be even more reserved with his body language, to be even more wary of close physical contact. Quite the contrary, he was often more generous with a hand on the shoulder or a gentle pat on the back as a form of approval or encouragement. Sometimes, he would place his hand over yours as gesture of support and understanding. Harry was more demonstrative with contact and touch than he was with using words of praise or comfort. Even his proximity, whether it be as a figure in the distance or his physical closeness, could affect the energy of the room.

Rolling it over in your mind, you realised that it made sense that Harry would be comfortable communicating through touch. In some regards, he was a very tactile man, a sensual man, if not overtly so. He was a man that celebrated the senses.

In his office, though minimalist by Kingsman standards, austere even, there were touches of extravagance not influenced by tradition. All the furniture, as well as being beautifully made, focused on designs that were hospitable as well as functional. The chairs were comfortable. The lounge was upholstered in a dark, rich leather, well oiled and worn smooth by years of use. It was masculine, but also soft and inviting, a piece that you could relax and sink into.  A sumptuous throw. Pillows covered in dark velvet that were actually soft, not just decorative.

The items that did adorn his office were obviously selected thoughtfully and with care. The enticingly smooth curves of a vase, seemingly out of place, brilliant jade against the subdued tones of hunter green, tartans and plaid and the deep tones of polished wood and leather. The delicate lines and breathtaking color of a framed butterfly.  A small, sterling silver paperweight in the shape of a terrier. A cut crystal decanter, with matching tumblers, no doubt holding an insanely old and very expensive scotch.

There was an emphasis, not on the prestige or price of an object, but on its, color, texture, lines that were pleasing or challenging to the eye. Not as a flaunting of wealth, but a source of pleasure. It wasn’t an ostentatious display of the rich, it was the luxury of selection and taste. Any piece of clothing or fabric that touched his body directly was often luxurious, as well, scarfs, gloves, fine cashmere or calfskin leather. Though you had no way of knowing, you assumed his sheets would be of the highest thread count.

Harry’s manner of dress was immaculate and as precise as the polished, clipped tones of his aristocratic accent. He presented himself as a man who was self-assured with his appearance. Whatever he wore, he wore with confidence. He wore it well, without vanity, pretension, ego or conceit. Not that he needed the help of his wardrobe to face the world. His manner of dress seemed to highlight, magnify his innate sense of self.  He was not a flashy man, but he appreciated the expert craftsmanship that went into a finely cut suit. That good clean lines, quality materials, understated but interesting details could be the final polish on an already finely honed presentation.   

His clothing was the other area where he allowed himself some extravagance. A firm believer in the principle that if one’s self and surroundings are not only presentable, but impeccable, then one will always be prepared for what surprises life may decide to throw in one’s direction. In his line of work, unpredictability was as predictable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. His wardrobe countered the erratic nature of life as an agent.  Thus, his was a look of man who had his life in order.

Harry Hart was a man of consistency. His tie was an unfailing full Windsor, tucked under the spread collar of a pristine white shirt. An equally crisp pocket square, folded neatly, peeked from his breast pocket. French cuffs were secured with custom gold links, bearing the Kingsman insignia. His suits were mostly double breasted, in classic shades of black, charcoal, navy and grey and cut in a wool that was appropriate for the occasion, whether solid, pinstriped, or woven with a pattern such as herringbone, or houndstooth. After years as a Kingsman agent, he had amassed a considerable and varied wardrobe that consisted of classic suits, formal wear, overcoats, ties, scarves, for any occasion or any type of mission. Each Kingsman agent also wore a gold signet ring on the pinky of their dominant hand. Harry wore the ring on his right.

Kingsman suits were cut close to the body, but designed with allowances made to accommodate weapons, ensure maneuvrability and flexibility in all types of action. They were also bulletproof. It was a feature created after decades of experimenting with different textiles and weaves and exploring processes and techniques that would result in a material that could withstand the velocity and impact of of a bullet shot at close range. The lightweight, flexible lining was sewn into every Kingsman suit and many times proved to be a lifesaver.

Shoulder harnesses were used for carrying. Not belt clips. Belts constricted the body whereas a harness allowed freedom of movement. They were also easily and quickly detachable in case they needed to be removed. Belts, on the other hand, though they had their uses, could also cost valuable seconds when needed to be taken off. The carry position prevented printing and maintained the lines of Kingsman’s suits.

The fine, bespoke tailoring emphasized Harry’s height and build. Trousers were slim cut, long and hemmed with a perfect mid break. He preferred the simple Oxford rather than brogues. He styled his hair in a classic, handsome cut, and was always clean shaven, (unless in the field where there was no opportunity for a straight razor shave). His aftershave and cologne were unobtrusive but memorable. Rather than preceding him, the warm and masculine sent of woods and spices, with hints of cardamon, bergamot, the tactile sensuality of rich leather and suede, would linger after his departure, like a layer of warm dark velvet. Even his hands were beautiful. Beautiful but not delicate. Large wide palms, long elegant fingers, his nails were neat and clipped. They sometimes bore the marks of time spent in the field. They were strong and capable.

Overall, Harry Hart had the appearance of a man who embraced classics, honoured tradition, but defined his look with his own individual aesthetic personality and sense of style.

In quieter moments, when you had the opportunity to watch him without being too obvious or call attention to yourself, you allowed your curiosity to wonder over all the small details and mannerism that were unique to Harry. How his fingertips would gently find the arm of his glasses and rest lightly there, when he was thoughtful or pondering a question, as if it helped him focus or think.  The automatic gesture probably developed after years of transmitting information through the eyeglasses, which also functioned as communication devices.  Through your experience in human psychology, you recognised this as a self soothing gesture. Finding the comfort of something familiar. You were fairly sure that Harry was aware of this gesture and allowed himself some habits, that were, not particularly productive but, helpful nonetheless. Rubbing his thumb along the band of his signet ring. The way he would always shoot his cuffs when rising from his seat. Or run the palm of his hand along the back of his head, smoothing down the already polished hair.

Never had you met someone who had the ability to asses and evaluate any given situation as throughly and unerringly as Harry. Whether it entailed clearing a room, identifying a mark, or even just something as simple as slowing his pace when you walked along side him so you wouldn’t have to struggle to keep up. He was constantly aware of his surroundings and deconstructing what needed to happen to make the environment more pleasing, the conversation more engaging, the meeting more productive, the mission more likely to succeed. He was nothing if not thoughtful. Thus, when you walked with him, he always slowed and allowed you to maintain your own graceful stride.

His physical appearance, his exacting nature, his precise moments, his carefully maintained wardrobe, his formal patterns of speech, his refined accent, not to mention his good looks could intimidate even the most confident agent, let alone a green one.  That was until the person in question realised that this outward perfection was merely the layer that he presented to the world.

It would seem impossible for man to be blessed with so many gifts, but Harry Hart proved to be the exception to the rule, for he was as charming and gracious as he was handsome. His quick wit, his clever way with words, as well as his dry, incisive sense of humor could enthrall even the most unwilling participant.

He could placate the most difficult handler, assuage the most reluctant agent, enchant the most reserved target, or ingratiate himself into the most inhospitable of circumstances. When Harry turned on the full force of his charm, the people he met, let alone the men and women who worked with him, frequently found themselves elevated in his presence, their own experience heightened by his vitality and charisma. They left the experience a little breathless, a little awestruck, a little seduced by Harry Hart. You were no exception. And you had been spending a lot of time with him.

————

You found yourselves alone one evening at the manor. In the lounge, when you both happened to desire a drink at the same time. Most of the Kingsman had already departed for the shop if they were returning to the city. The rest had dispersed to their own private quarters, or were participating in whatever activity they had planned for the evening. The lounge was quiet. They way he liked it. Apparently, it was the way you preferred it as well.

Harry spotted you the same moment you lifted your gaze at the new arrival. Your eyes narrowed slightly in pleasure at the sight of him. You gave him a small, but welcoming smile. The musical clink of crystal against glass as he poured a scotch from the fully stocked bar was the only sound aside from the cracking logs in the grand fireplace.

The club was a vast space with a vaulted ceiling. The stately fireplace stood on the far wall. Like most of the manor, it was dressed in masculine shades of dark brown and hunter greens, tartan and plaids. Polished hardwood furniture, mostly antique, and historical paintings, displaying the rich history of Kingsman, whispered class and wealth. In the center was an arrangement to accommodate a more substantial group with larger sofas and chaises surrounding a massive polished low wooden table.

Around the room were smaller clusters of tables and leather club chairs tucked into alcoves for smaller gatherings or intimate conversations. 

It was at one these clusters that he found you, tucked in a quiet corner near the fireplace.

In the most relaxed arrangement Harry allowed himself while still on Kingsman property, he had his coat draped over his arm. Dressed in his shirtsleeves, tie and shoulder holster, tumbler in hand, he approached you, also with a pleasant but small smile. Pleased that you were the one that was sharing this space with him.

You were dressed quite differently from how Harry first remembered you. Well, your clothes hadn’t been memorable, but you had been. Since you were not a knighted agent, they weren’t quite sure how to classify you yet, you took the freedom to dress beyond the Kingsman uniform. Though always appropriate and surprisingly on brand, you were not quite regulation. If you were out in the field, you were in tactical, or the women’s version of the kingsman suits. You even had the shop tailor some custom pieces so you could have more diversity. When you were at Kingsman HQ or at the shop in support, you dressed appropriately, but in your own style. There were handfuls of fashionable men at Kingsman. You couldn’t turn around and not run into a gentleman turned out in Kingsman’s finest. But an attractive, stylish woman was a rarer sight. Even Harry noticed the heads that turned when you walked by.

Walking toward you, Harry took the time to observe your appearance, he told himself as spies always did out of habit. Today, you remained on the property. Without the need for being in the field, this would be your most proper look. You were dressed in a way that was very elegant, but sexy at the same time. Or, perhaps it wasn’t supposed to look sexy. Harry set that observation aside. Not the time nor the place, he thought to himself.

You were dressed in a slim, knee length pencil skirt in a very deep shade of oxblood red. It was velvet he noted when he saw the sheen of the fabric as you shifted your knees in his direction. A matching tailored jacket, that, like him, you had removed and draped over the back of your chair. Topped with a delicate, almost sheer silk blouse the color of sun bleached bone. It had tiny pearl buttons down the front, and lace detailing at the collar, cuffs and similar detailing along the button placket. A narrow dark brown leather belt circled your waist with a gold clasp rather than a prong buckle.  Dark brown suede court shoes with a tall, but reasonable heel. Your makeup was minimal and natural. You looked like you had just somehow heightened your features, but in no discernible way he could describe.

As Harry got closer, he was able to notice even smaller details. Your beautiful hair, was twisted up and away from your face and secured in some secret way women have where it would stay perfectly in place by means he could never quite see. Your accessories were feminine and understated. Small gold earrings in the shape of teardrops, a simple gold cuff around your wrist, a Kingsman issue watch on the other. A signet ring on your own pinkie. Your nails were trimmed short and clean, either no polish or something bare. A thin gold chain around your neck with a small solid gold version of the Kingsman pendant.

Harry didn’t know what he wanted a woman to look like until he first saw you. The first time, on that first chaotic night, he had the same thought. He could give you a basic description of what you were wearing, but he could describe every feature of your face. The way you looked when you were reflective. The line of your jaw when you were determined.

And then, for the very first time he saw you, dressed, properly, walking down the long marble corridor of the HQ manor, when you had the opportunity to present yourself on your own terms. Harry thought, this is what I want a woman to look like. It wasn’t that you were model beautiful, or that your features were perfect. In London, on the streets, you could see plenty of models. They were beautiful, no doubt, and pleasing to look at, but once you were done, you were able to go about your day without a second thought. 

Your beauty had substance. The fact that Harry knew what your skill set included, to know what you had overcome to be where you were, to be the person you were, made your beauty a real tangible thing, regardless of what you were wearing. Perhaps it was that, whatever you wore, you made it part of you. It wasn’t just a pretty skirt or a flattering blouse, it was the way you wore it that made him notice you. You could have looked completely different, with completely opposite features. Harry would have still have felt the same. And he would still say, this is what I want a woman to look like.

You posessed the capacity to stir his heart. Something that had been quiet and still for a very long time. Even something that Harry thought no longer had the desire to be moved. It was certainly not something he was seeking. He, long ago, had accepted the fact that the life of agent isn’t one that fosters lasting relationships. Relationships were based on communication and he had far too many secrets as a Kingsman.

Harry was beyond the time in his life for these kinds of thoughts. He knew he had been handsome in his youth. He had his fair share of relationships and much more than his fair share of sexual encounters. He was aware that his looks had carried him quite well as he got older and that if he wanted, there were women, very desirable ones, that would be more than willing to engage in a casual relationship. Harry was by no means vanilla. It wasn’t that he was prudish in the least, or one to deny himself physical pleasure. If you were not exactly who you were, then he would have most likely allowed himself to pursue you and enjoyed whatever that relationship had to offer. The crux of it was, that he would not be as attracted to you, or charmed by you if you weren’t exactly who you were. He would not want your as much as he did if you were any different. 

——

Harry set these thoughts aside as he approached you. Even though it was obvious you were alone, Kingsman manners never failed. Never ask a lady directly if she’d like your company. Give her a polite way to refuse without making her say no. She will indicate if your presence if desired.

“Excuse me, miss.” he opened. “Is this seat taken?”

You awarded him with an amused smile. You always enjoyed his little game of manners.

You nodded toward the chair. Please.

Draping his coat on the back of his chair, just as you did, He adjusted his slacks so he could sit down comfortably and gracefully. The club chairs were low and designed to sink back into. Harry took his seat, adjusted a little until he, too, was settled in.

Since both of you were now relatively stuck in your respective positions, where you couldn’t move without significant effort, Harry simply raised his glass in your direction. You followed suit.

You were pleased when he was comfortable enough to sit in silence with you. It was one of the first tells you would look for in asset or mark. Did they have enough self assurance to be silent? Were they uncomfortable, awkward, fidgety? Did they try to fill the silence? Most often, if they lacked confidence, you would notice these tells immediately. One of your favourite activities was to sit in silence.

It was also one of your favourite activities to look at Harry Hart. The fact that he was handsome was no surprise. When you initially started at Kingsman, this was simply an objective observation, like masterful way he handled weaponry. Or the fact that he was right handed.  The more you were partnered in the field, the closer you became, both in proximity and as colleagues, his physical attributes began to affect you in ways that continued to make you increasingly uncomfortable.

You were aware his body was that of a man that you admired and looked up to. Tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped. Strong, driven, powerful. You became aware of all the things that his body could do. You had the opportunity to observe him every time you were in the field, in combat, in action.

But you also began to discern a softness, a gentleness that he could convey when he gathered you up after a surprising blast had knocked you off your feet. Hands that smoothed back your hair from your forehead upon waking up in medical after a particularly dangerous mission. A warm hand on your shoulder as you successfully accomplished a challenging task. 

You were aware that as your mentor, Harry had a responsibility to maintain a professional relationship. But with escalating frequency, you imagined how it would feel to have him pressed up against you, to feel his body, purposeful and confident. 

————

The evening was relaxed. Both of you, without the urgency of an upcoming mission to prepare, took the opportunity to simply rest and unwind. A seldom occasion. Feeling more and more at ease when both of you were together, you allowed yourself a little space to test the waters. When engaging targets, if they seemed comfortable sitting in silence in your company, would they make direct eye contact? You took another small sip of your drink, savoured it for a moment, and swallowed.

Hmmm. You were very curious about HarryHart and you were feeling surprisingly playful. You wanted to try something. Let’s say an experiment in tradecraft. You waited until you caught his eye. Harry seemed amused and matched your eye contact with equal directness. You were pleased that he made eye contact and even more pleased when he maintained it. But he was a spy, after all. Making and maintaining eye contact would be elementary for him.

With a little cheekiness on your part, you raised your glass to your lips again and took a small sip. He did not waver. His eyes even took on a little bit of curious amusement. You held the scotch on your tongue, pulled it to the back of your mouth, rolled the scotch around a little bit longer than necessary, before you swallowed.

Neither of you would look away first. You gave him a half smile, half smirk, crinkled your eyes a bit in amusement. You seemed to be saying. Ok. Your turn.

Harry had never seen your in this kind of playful mood and he suddenly found himself enjoying this little match immensely.

He could more than participate in this game. He, literally, had decades more experience than you. An agent may be able to seduce. But a gentleman agent was a master at the art of seduction. And Harry Hart was the consummate gentleman agent. One did not get to where he was in life without knowing how to pleasure a woman. He was often told he had beautiful and talented hands. That may have been years ago, but those kinds of skills, they stayed with a man.

A quick raise of his brow. Darling, challenge accepted.

Holding your eyes with his, he lowered his glass just enough to where it was in your sight line, but slightly off to the side, at the edge of your peripheral vision. You would still be able to hold eye contact, but would have to make an effort not to glance down at his glass. Especially, when you saw what he was going to do with it.

Harry held your gaze suddenly with an intense focus you were unprepared for. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he was holding his glass, cupping it in the palm of one hand. He began to simply roll it around gently, as one would while enjoying a proper scotch. He rolled it around harmlessly, in a slow, lazy, rhythmic pattern.

You had to concentrate a little harder not to look away, but you kept his gaze. If you were uncomfortable, you didn’t show it. You hoped your gaze held a similar intensity as Harry’s. His felt, well, piercing, for lack of a more appropriate word.

This was certainly turning out to be an interesting evening, Harry thought. You seemed determined to stick this through. He would be required to dial his technique up a notch. He nested the heavy base in the center of his palm and let it rest there for awhile without moving. Then, once again, he started rolling the glass in his hand, not to stir the liquid, but to feel the surface of glass itself. He bounced the glass, lightly, as if testing the weight and feeling the heaviness.

The movement was subtle, slow, and sensuous. He let his hand explore the texture of the smooth surface. The base of his thumb pressed against the glass in slow, languid circles, sometimes rolling on to the pad of his thumb, sometimes to his finger tip. But he did this as if he were doing it unconsciously, because he was staring at you with a focus and intensity that said you were the only woman on earth, and that he wanted you.

There was truth to the term, the male gaze. It was not looking at something through a man’s eyes, it was seeing into something as a man. There was a reason why they called this particular look penetrating. It was a gaze of desire, a singularly male want and need. If done properly, it was a way to make love to a woman without touching her. It was far beyond physical contact. It wasn’t hard for him to harness his essential masculine energy. Harry had done it for years on countless honey traps in his younger days with the agency.  He hadn’t thrown the full force of himself to seduce in quite awhile and found that he was enjoying a little flex of his muscle.  If desire had a name, at that moment, it would be called Harry Hart. He let his desire roll off of him in waves.

What you didn’t quite understand, was that the game you were playing with him, wasn’t about who could keep eye contact the longest. It was a question of who was going to be seduced and who was going to be the seducer. You were approaching what you thought was a staring contest as a battle of the wills, which was why you were going to fail. Making eye contact may be a test of power and confidence, but that was a quick, brief test. A simple meeting or a darting of the eyes. It was very easy to find out who was going to be able to make and hold contact. However, eye contact for a prolonged period of time, especially between a man and a woman? It became something quite different. It was a game of seduction. It wasn’t a test of power. It was a test of control. Control of two things in this case, the seducer’s own desire, and the desire of the other person. Could the seducer harness his own desire to control the seduced.

You had not faltered yet. He raised to single brow. Would you like me to keep going?

You narrowed your gaze. Please, do.

The expression on his face all but said out loud. “You asked for it.”

Harry saw the flush in your cheeks when you noticed what he was doing with his glass. Your breathing intensified. Your pupils dilated and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

They were very small movements, but very deliberate movements. He cupped the bottom of the glass in one palm, fingers spread as if he were holding up a small tray. Using only his middle finger, the rest of his hand now cupping the base, he began to stroke the center of the glass. Like he was using his finger to say, come here. In very slow, very deliberate, beyond suggestive movements. His other hand simply rested on the top rim of the glass. Gently holding it in place while he moved his bottom hand. He did this without twitching another muscle in his body, as if nothing had changed.

Your eyes widened. Holy fuck, you thought. With very exact and explicit movements of his hands, Harry was not just implying, but overtly demonstrating how he used them to give pleasure to a woman. The shock of seeing him within the frame of something so blatantly sexual, all the while looking at you the entire time? It was intensely arousing.

Harry was not only looking at you, he was positively devouring you with his gaze. You could feel him, his energy in pulses of heat. This wasn’t merely eye contact. This was something unexpected and you were not prepared for it. Harry was suddenly changed, maybe not changed, but different. He was harder, stronger, more demanding. He was more of everything. The polite, honorable, considerate gentleman was still there,  but now he added an aspect of himself that you had never seen or experienced before. The man was still Harry Hart, but it was also as if a part of him had been unleashed, whatever primal energy that was held in check by the handsome suits and the manners and the chivalry, had been released.

You fought to maintain your composure. He knew exactly what he was doing. His hands moved expertly, and with ease. His gaze, became even more intense, if that was even possible.

Harry continued to play and to tease as he held the glass in his palm. You knew where he had his hand. You could feel the exact placement as if it were on your own body. The base of his palm would cup your center, with the rest of his fingers spreading between your legs. His middle finger was still moving in achingly slow circles, one direction, then slowly moving in the other direction. He curled his finger under, using his knuckle, rolling it in tiny circles. Not even really moving just shifting the pressure moving from one side to the other, from top to bottom.

You saw in his eyes, that he knew, that you were not only being affected by his movements, but you were feeling sensations as if he were touching you directly.

It was the most erotic experience of your life.

Here was this beautiful man, still dressed as properly as ever in his dress shirt and tie, his shoulder holster with his side arm. His perfect hair, his perfect face. With all his dignity and respect, relaxing comfortably back into his chair, his legs spread wide, an ankle crossed over his knee, one elbow resting casually on the arm of his leather chair. Radiating such a profound sexual energy, that without even touching you, had the ability to control your body with only his eyes and the the way he moved a glass in his hand. He was so confident in his movements. His expression said, however brief this moment, that he owned you, that you were his, and he knows that you wants it that way. He can see it all over your face. He can see it in your eyes.

——

Harry wasn’t even close to being done.

He took his other hand, laying his palm over the glass, as if it was resting there. On the other side of the glass, where his thumb fell, he began to roll it around in very explicit, very familiar circles.

He felt himself harden as his own arousal grew. He didn’t try to stop it. Instead of letting it distract him, he channeled that energy through him and into you. Allowing you to witness the physical evidence of his own desire would strengthen his hold. Never underestimate the power of the imagination. You would see it. Your mind would do the rest.

Harry saw your lips part, even the slightest bit. Your chest rising and falling under your ladylike blouse as your breath quickened. Your knees pressed tightly together. He watched your face very, very carefully and intently, watching the subtle changes in your expressions as he shifted the movements of his hands, knowing that you were feeling his movements in your body. Every time your brow would furrow, or you took a sharp intake of breath, or would clench your pretty hands, as he moved his own, he knew you were feeling pleasure. And that he was the source of that pleasure.

Harry knew that there were men who were turned on by violence. For him, however, there was nothing more erotic than the sight of a woman experiencing the pleasure that you were giving her. So, he was especially aroused when he was free to look at the nuances of your face and body freely and openly. Your pleasure had reached a constant as you moved almost imperceptibly to the consistent rhythm of his hand.

And you still did not drop your gaze. Harry knew, now that you were fully aroused, you would not break eye contact. You probably couldn’t at this point if you tried. For, half of your pleasure was a result of seeing the man who was controlling your pleasure. And seeing that you pleased him, that he was also sexually aroused, intensified your pleasure. And you wanted to offer that to him, very willingly. Harry was finding out much about you in these few moments. Things that he wasn’t even sure you knew about yourself. Very few women would have been comfortable enough with their sexuality to be purely on the receiving end of pleasure. In the intimacy of their own bedroom in a committed relationship. Let alone in an extremely public and therefore vulnerable way. With a man who may be, slightly off limits. Which, in fact, probably added to your pleasure.

To see just how much you were under his thumb, pun aside, Harry paused for a moment. He kept his hand, his fingers in the exact same place. He just stilled. And watched you. After a few moments he could see the tiniest furrow of your brow. When he continued to remain still, he saw the movement he waiting for. You probably didn’t even know you had made it. It was the slightest lifting and rolling of your hips. He didn’t realize he could be more turned on, but he felt himself grow harder. It was the motion every woman made, in his experience, when they wanted more, when they were asking for more, and when they were begging for more.  The ability to actively listen and comprehend another person was the most profound influencing tactic one could hone in communication, and therefore seduction.  Which is exactly what he was doing. In a very non verbal, very physical way.

Harry began his movements again, with more intensity and purpose. He let his finger, for the first time, slide all the way up the side of the glass, even letting it lift with the upward movement of his palm. He saw your body move as if you were receiving him.

He knew you were experiencing waves of intense pleasure. He could tell you wanted to close your eyes and tip your head back. As Harry witnessed your need, he went in for his last movements. His palm pressing up into the base of the glass, his thumb rolling in small firm circles and his entire middle finger along the entire length of the glass, the tip almost reaching the top of the rim.  As if his finger were deep inside you, he made deliberate strokes while pressing into the glass, slow, but then gradually increasing in speed and pressure.

Harry knew, that you knew, the exact two parts he was pleasuring.

You lips parted, your breathing grew heavier. You had no idea what was going to happen next, all you felt were waves of pleasure. The only thing you could concentrate on was not losing eye contact with the man in front of you.

Harry knew at this point, he had let what was a silly, flirtatious game, go too far. He also knew this began as a challenge, and Harry Hart was never one to back down from a challenge. He also knew that he never purposely lost a game. If it took climaxing for you to break eye contact, then so be it.

Harry also knew he was mesmerized by the sight of you. He didn’t know if he could stop. But it didn’t matter because he didn’t want to. This moment had to hit the list of the top most erotic experiences of his life. Both fully clothed, siting in separate chairs, more than six feet apart. With only eye contact between you. He didn’t know if he’d experienced something more intensely arousing, knowing that he was the one you were feeling when you made yourself come.

Harry began to see the tell tale tremors, the quickening breath, your lips parting with cries that you desperately wanted to make that you would not let yourself, and still, you were trying to hold on. Psychologically you were making it harder for yourself, denying your own release would only make it that much more physically intense when you had to give in.

It was at that moment, that a door banged within the manor and someone appeared at the large entrance of the club room.

“Harry. That you?”

Damn it. It was Eggsy.

“Just headin’ out.” Eggsy called over. “What’s up? Looks like you two’re having a staring contest. Whose winning?”

“It’s a tie” Harry replied.

Eggsy held up his hand in a quick wave and left.

Harry gave you a quick glance, where you were still trying to maintain eye contact, wait no, you were just staring into the space behind him, concentrating on something he could not see.

——

You knew you had to stop staring at Harry, so you looked past his shoulder into the empty space behind him. At this point, even the sight of him might set you off. You were still right at the cusp of your climax and your body was still so aroused you were afraid that any movement could push your over the edge. You wanted to tell Harry to leave, but you couldn’t think of a way without embarrassing or offending one or both of you. All you could do at the moment was sit quietly. So that’s what you did. You were waiting for your body to catch up with the rest of you and settle down. Harry was waiting patiently until you were ready to move or speak.

After a bit of time, you glanced over at him, made sure it was safe. It was, and you began to relax a little, though your body still felt like a flame that was ready to ignite with any hint of friction. You just needed to stay still for awhile.

You saw Harry watching you, his face both concerned and amused.

He broke the silence.

 “And that, my darling,” Harry said pointedly. “Is how one create’s an effective honey trap.”

In an attempt to further diffuse the situation, he wanted to be frank and direct with you and not to brush what just happened under the rug. That would be awkward for both of you.  He did not want you to feel embarrassed or ashamed or uncomfortable with him or what had happened. The best way was to be as blunt as possible. He pushed down on his palms and rose out of his chair with minimal effort.

“My dear, I’ve been in the spy business for over 30 years. One does not get this far without knowing how to pleasure a woman.”

He winked at you.

“Not to worry, you’ll get there.”

Harry reached behind him for his coat, draped it over his arm, but not before you clearly noticed his own erection. Which before had just been a suggestion in the shadows. He’s hard.

The thought made you flame all over again.

“I need to take my leave. Will you be alright, here?”

All you could do is nod. You didn’t trust your voice yet.

Always the gentleman, he leaned over and brushed his lips against the top of your hair.

“Thank you for the lovely evening.”

You still couldn’t look directly at him so you turned your head slightly to the side and gave him a small nod. With a quick squeeze of your arm, you heard his departing footsteps. He was heading to the tunnels. He was going back into the city, He wouldn’t be staying at he manor. You didn’t know if you were glad or disappointed.

You were grateful to him for providing at least a somewhat graceful way to exit the situation, referring to the seduction technique that ALL agents are trained in. Harry was letting you chalk it up to a learning experience.

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. You tried again.

“Fuck.”

It was the first word that you had said all evening.

——

“Fuck.”

Harry thought as he boarded the train back into the city. He had actually planned on staying at the manor, but with what just happened with you, he wasn’t sure if that would be the best course of action. It took all of his self control to remove himself from any temptation by leaving the place entirely. Making it impossible for him to act in a way that was inappropriate. Not that what had just happened would qualify as appropriate. At least it had the veil of a lesson on seduction. He wasn’t sure it would convince judges, but he found it a weak, but passable excuse.

No, the problem for the moment was that all Harry could see was your face as he pleasured you. How your lips parted, your breasts underneath your blouse, the flush of your cheeks. He wanted to hear what your cries would’ve sounded like. He wanted to be the one to make you cry out. His sex drive, always healthy, may have had a prolonged dormant period in recent times. But now it was raging like a fire that he unleashed and now he couldn’t put out. By letting the full force of it out this evening, it was fully awake and needed something to do. Harry had feared that if he had stayed at the manor even a moment longer, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself and would’ve taken you and had you right there.

If he could do that to you with his eyes and just the suggestion of his hands, he couldn’t imaging what it would be like pleasuring you with his entire body. Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he took care of himself, and when he did, he would allow himself the sight of your trembling, responsive, body underneath his own as he gave you the pleasure he knew you so desperately wanted, joined together as he felt your body shudder around him when you climaxed, feeling his own release as he heard you cry out his name in pleasure.

[ratcatcher0325]

Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #36)

Here comes Chapter #36! Post show, both Penn and Eveline unwind. That is until something unexpected happens! 

Previous: Chapter #35

Next: Chapter #37

CW: Adult language ________________________________________

NOBODY'S FOOL

Chapter #36: Bait and Switch 

Word Count: 1,164 Read Time: Approx. 9 mins

[Eveline's POV]

Almost immediately upon closing the door and taking a few steps down the hall, I ran into Stephanie, the PA with the kind brown eyes and round face. I coordinated with her about the fan, “If you can bring her backstage and just come get me when she arrives? I don’t want to hover or anything but… just in case.” She nodded. With that, I headed off to the green room, far down the hallway and around the corner, to hang with the rest of the gang. Riley was slumped in a lounge chair, ratty converse propped up on an upholstered ottoman. Dani sat on the arm of the long leather couch, Travis was perched comfortably on the opposite side. I planted myself between them.

Things felt back to normal again. More or less. I at least didn’t feel like I had to tuck my tail between my legs every time I noticed their eyes on me. Travis offered me his flask and I drank, gratefully. “What a fucking day, huh?” That broke the ice and they all laughed and groaned in agreement. “You know… as much as I hate to say it… all three of you are entitled to a big I told you so…”

“Awww, well that takes all the fun out of it! You suck!” Riley threw a wadded up napkin at me, I batted it away to the floor.

“Look, you’ve seen me through some SHITTY red flag relationships, so I feel like I don’t have much high ground to stand on… we just want ya to be happy Ev…. Truly.” There was a pause. I knew that look on her face… there was a but, “But... watching Sam get the shit shanked out of him by Penn was pretty fucking amazing!” All I could do was shake my head and sip on the flask. That little man really had done so much to shake up my life. Who had rescued who?

After swigging the drink, I bit my lip. Dani, ever observant and never reserved, caught it immediately, “Uh oh! There it is… the Signature Lancaster Lip Bite! The dead giveaway!” My face flushed bright red.

“Shut up Dani!” I tried to hide my face behind my hands.

“You’re thinking about him aren’t you??? Don’t lie!! Honey, I don’t blame you… he’s cute as a button.. but goddamn when I see him on those screens, all up close and personal…” she waved her hand in front of her face. I gave her the finger. It felt just like college again, when we had nothing, drinking on the floor of our dorm room, playing for pennies in bars and Chinese restaurants. We were two young women gossiping about boys and dreaming of our future.

Now, almost 10 years later, and those dreams were becoming a reality. Sticks and Stones were becoming something big now. I was so proud of them, and delighted to watch it unfold. To think of where they had come, from just a bunch of college age idiots with a love of music, to playing packed houses, it was astonishing. Earlier in the day I had felt searing guilt for the loss of that deal with the two elderly creeps. But now, I knew the band would manage to find something just as good if not better on their own. They’d be alright. And now that I was free to chart my own path, I’d be right there with them for the ride. My heart thrummed in my chest. What a gift just to be here.

“Welcome back to the dark side, Ev.” Travis smiled, gingerly taking back his flask for a sip. His joke obviously pertaining to Sam’s negative view of the lifestyle. I thought I’d be more devastated by losing him. I had clung so desperately to that relationship for so long, at the detriment of my friends, after all. But having seen him behave the way he did, treating Penn with such disrespect, I finally saw the monster behind the man. I could never love someone who treated Penn, or any pet, that way. I felt a sharp twinge of shame that it had taken the little man’s desperate act of violence to get me to spring into action. It was my job to protect him. I had promised myself I would always look out for him after I’d rescued him that fateful night.

I was so glad the little man had stood up for himself, because I had been so slow to save him. Why was that? If I was honest with myself, it was because I was scared. Scared to hurt Sam. He’d always had such a strong hold over me. I was so grateful to feel his grip on my life slip away. I was free to be myself again for the first time in two and a half years.

And Penn… he would never ask me to change a thing. He loved me just as I was. To be loved wholly and completely like that… it was probably the best feeling in the world. My sweet little cowboy, what would I ever do without you?

*************

I stood in the drafty silence of my dressing room, looking at myself in the mirror just as I had done all that time ago in San Francisco. Hello, me. I adjusted the hat on my head and rolled my shoulders back, taking in the man who stood before me. His spine seemed a little straighter and his chest a little loftier than it ever had been before. He smiled back at me behind his messy hair hanging over his eyes, his white hat bouncing light from the vanity. His loose fitting, olive green jacket with sleeves rolled up and his dark, tight jeans framed his body in a flattering way. He may have only measured five and a quarter inches, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel so small. He was just… him. Me. I took my hat off, and held it in my hands.

This stupid thing. I loved it with all my heart. I’ll be your cowboy, Eveline. Holding it over my chest, I stepped forward to the mirror, and just like in San Francisco, I stretched out my palm and placed it to the glass. My signature. I, Penn, exist and I was here, against all odds.

No sooner had my hand collided with the cool surface of the mirror, than I heard the door over my right shoulder open. That must be Morgan, the super fan. I beamed. I couldn’t wait to meet her. I placed my hat back on my head as I turned around.

The dark, harrowing figure that loomed above, casting a long, black shadow over me, was anything but the girl I’d interacted with in the audience. I gasped, horrified. I knew exactly who this was.