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sea-saur · 11 months ago

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Out Of The Way (Omorashi Story)

Ok so I've had this story in my head ever since I saw this post and cranked it out last night/today. I didn't edit it very much, so this is basically a "typed it out, gave it some tweaks and a read over, bing bang boom" kind of deal. Just needed to get it out. Disclaimer: the events in the story are consensual, the couple has done things like this before and any distress mentioned is agreed upon in the context of the story. Also, it's kind of long. Here ya go:

It was a bright Sunday afternoon, and Cyan and Indy were on a date at the mall. They’ve been there for the past three hours, Cyan mostly interested in the bookstore (Cyan finding a graphic novel they’d been looking for, Indy excited about a new horror novel that had just come out), candy shop, and various cute knick knack stores, one of them in which Cyan and Indy both found Pochacco blind bags and, to their delight, pulled their favorites from the set. Cyan was on cloud nine, hazy with love for the day and for Indy.

Except.

Except for the fact that it had been about four hours since they’d last used the bathroom, one hour since they finished a large lemonade from the food court, and half an hour since they started feeling the first inkling that their bladder was starting to fill. They’d decided to ignore it at the time, and maybe see about finding a restroom once they were closer to leaving the mall.

“Oh perfect, here’s the botanical shop, let’s head inside!” Indy said, spotting one of their favorite stores. Indy had a modest yet thriving collection of houseplants and took pride in keeping them healthy. This independent plant store was their favorite spot to pick up soil and other odds and ends, frequenting there so often that they’d become friends with the owners. Cyan loved how well Indy took care of their plants – Cyan wouldn’t touch them, as they were known as a harbinger of death for the poor things. Cyan was better suited for furry creatures to care for than leafy.

“Oh sure!” Cyan agreed, happy to walk through the fresh smelling plants while Indy got more soil for their apartment. They were greeted at the entrance by a waterfall feature – one of those small garden decorations, where the water continually flowed from the top of the stone structure down to the small pool basin. Cyan eyed it nervously, the trickling water reminding them of their own bladder, which tingled uncomfortably at the sound. They quickly followed Indy further into the shop and blessedly, away from the waterfall.

“Violet! Lil!” Indy cheered as they caught sight of the two owners of the shop, a married couple who happened to live just down the street from Cyan and Indy. “Hey you two!” Violet said. “Didn’t tell us you were coming by today.”

“I didn’t know if you were going to be here,” Indy replied. “It’s a Sunday, after all. Don’t you usually have other staff here on Sundays?”

“Yeah, well, two of ours called out sick, what can you do.” Lil shrugged. “How’s it, Cyan?”

Cyan smiled a hello. “S’all good,” they said, shifting their weight and shoving their hands into the pockets of their denim jacket. Their need to pee was more noticeable now, and they hoped that adjusting their stance would help quell the urge while they chatted. It did for a minute, but Cyan soon realized that they couldn’t keep standing still, so they excused themself to go look around the shop while Indy continued to chat. Unfortunately, that meant getting closer to the waterfall again. Cyan’s hands balled into fists in their pockets, mentally urging Indy to hurry up. The insistent splashing of the water into the basin was a tease to Cyan’s bladder, filling up more quickly now that the lemonade had made its way through their system. They were going to need to say something to Indy, and soon.

Thankfully, Indy finished up their purchase and said their goodbyes to Violet and Lil. “Hey, ready to go?” Indy asked Cyan.

“Yes,” Cyan breathed, relieved to finally be away from that waterfall.

“Where would you like to go next?” Indy said.

“Well, actually,” Cyan started, “could we stop at the ah, the bathroom before we keep going?”

“The bathroom?” Indy asked. They cocked their head slightly, feigning confusion, but Cyan immediately saw the knowing glint in their eye. Cyan knew what that look meant and could only hope Indy would take it easy on them.

“Yeah...” Cyan said, somewhat sheepishly. “The bathroom.”

“What do you need the bathroom for?” Indy asked, still playing innocent. Cyan groaned internally.

“I just, well...the lemonade from lunch...”

“Yes?” Indy prompted, smirking.

Cyan felt a blush start to creep on their cheeks. “Well, I finished it about an hour ago and now I just...have to pee.” They finished their sentence in a rush, their bladder panging as a reminder of that fact.

Indy gave an exaggerated nod, as if they were only now connecting the dots. “Oooh, I see. Well, I don’t think it’s time for us to take a bathroom break yet. It’s only been an hour, like you said, since you had anything to drink. Surely you can wait a bit longer.”

“Ah, but,” Cyan huffed, “I need to – “

“In fact,” Indy continued, “it’s probably a good idea if we got you another drink, don’t you think? You’re supposed to drink so much every hour, whatever that recommendation is, I forget exactly. Either way, it’s definitely time for another drink for you.” Indy took Cyan by the hand and began to drag them back to the food court. Cyan gave a small whine in protest.

“Indy, really, I need to pee – “

“No, you don’t.” Indy replied, their tone seeping with excited yet controlled dominance, “You don’t need to go yet, and any of that lemonade that’s filtering through you, well you’ll just have to hold it like a big boy. One lemonade is not enough to need to go.”

Cyan shushed at Indy’s command, letting themself be pulled back to the food court without further arguing. They’ve played this game before, and Cyan accepted that they were playing again now, although how long Cyan could hold off the inevitable...they were unsure. They were even more unsure when they landed at the soda dispenser at the center of the food court – the kind that’s self-serve for over a dozen brand and flavor options – and Indy pulled a large cup from the stack. Cyan squeezed their thighs together at the sight, forcing themself to take a deep breath and try to steady the splashing feeling in their bladder.

“Hmmm, what drink would you like?” Indy asked, looking over the options on the screen. “Oh! They have Cherry Sprite, how about that?” They turned to Cyan, gesturing with the cup.

Cyan wavered. They did like Cherry Sprite, but the large cup...

“Yeah, Cherry Sprite sounds good,” Cyan replied. “But...how about a medium?” they ventured, hoping Indy would take the bait. They didn’t.

“No, a large. We wouldn’t want you to get thirsty and have to come all the way back here, would we?” Indy added some ice, then selected the Cherry Sprite and pushed the pour button. Bright, bubbly soda started gushing out. Cyan groaned, their need to pee escalating with the sound of the drink rushing into the cup. They shifted from one foot to the other, longing for relief that was a far way off.

“Here you go!” Indy chirped, handing Cyan the now full cup. “Drink up.”

Cyan, knowing there was no way out of this, immediately obeyed, their teeth chewing at the straw while they took a large gulp. The citrusy sweet drink fizzled down their throat, and while admittedly it was delicious, it was also a stark reminder of what was already trickling into Cyan’s bladder. Cyan took a few more sips, which pleased Indy. “There,” Indy said, “doesn’t that feel good?”

“Yes,” Cyan gasped, fingers gripping the cup a bit too tight, “feels...feels good.” It did not feel good. It felt like Cyan was a water balloon quickly overfilling itself to pop, the soda and lemonade sloshing together in Cyan’s tummy down to their bladder. They bit their lip nervously, shimmying their hips from side to side.

“Good!” Indy said. “Now let’s go check out some other stores.”

Indy led Cyan throughout the mall over the next half hour, reveling in every squirm, pant, and whimper Cyan made as they went. Indy loved seeing Cyan grow desperate, their little bladder throbbing until Cyan couldn’t take it anymore and begged Indy to let them pee. And this time, Indy had something a little special planned for when that moment finally happened.

Cyan could barely concentrate while Indy dragged them from spot to spot, their need to pee growing rapidly with each sip of their soda. They fidgeted restlessly as Indy presented candles to sniff, game boxes to read, stuffed animals to feel, their bladder quivering below their belly and sending increasingly urgent signals to Cyan that they needed to go! They needed to go now!

“Indy...” Cyan said quietly, swaying from foot to foot as subtly as they could manage, their free hand hovering over their belly while the other held a now half empty soda cup, “please, I have to pee. Please can I go now?”

“Hmm?” Indy looked up nonchalantly from the price tag they were checking. They eyed Cyan’s potty dance and chuckled. “Aww, does my pup have to go so soon?” they mocked. “You haven’t even finished your soda.”

“Hnngg,” Cyan groaned, glancing at the remaining soda in the cup, condensation dripping onto their fingers and sending tingling chills up their spine. “I c-can’t finish this, Indy. I can’t take it anymore!”

“You poor thing. You’re just going to have to hold it, we aren’t going to the bathroom right now.”

“But,” Cyan protested, “but I have to go!”

“You sure sound restless,” Indy replied, ignoring Cyan’s plea, “let’s go take a seat for a minute by the fountain.”

“The fountain?” Cyan said, incredulous, as Indy took them by the hand and walked them to the main water feature of the mall – a giant white stone pool with water shoots spraying sparkling water in a circular pattern. Merry go round animals were hung form the ceiling above, making it all look rather whimsical.

“Yeah, there are benches here,” Indy said, sitting them down. Cyan immediately began to grind down on the bench, fanning their thighs in and out. The rushing water of the fountain was torture to their sensitive bladder, their own pee splashing menacingly against its walls and threatening to make its way down their urethra. “Isn’t this nice?” Indy asked. “I just love watching all this water flowing around us, so free and easy. And the sounds it makes, aren’t they relaxing?”

“Ooooh,” Cyan moaned a reply, writhing in a desperate attempt to find any sort of relief from the tingling all along their lower belly. Indy’s teasing was making the situation exponentially worse, and Cyan wasn’t sure how much longer they could hold back the flood. “Fuck, I gotta go to the bathroom. Indy, please!”

“Big boys don’t need to go without permission. You’re just gonna have to handle it.” Indy made no move to leave the bench. “Now let’s rest here for a bit, enjoy the fountain.” They eyed Cyan. “Drink more of your soda.”

Cyan was decidedly not enjoying the fountain. They took a few quick sips from their soda to appease Indy, but their need to pee was all encompassing. They rocked back and forth on the bench, their legs quivering as their bladder sloshed inside them. The sips of that soda felt like electric bursts sliding through them, making their bladder buzz with fullness. It was torture to sit here and do nothing. Cyan longed to be sitting on a toilet instead, where they could finally relax and release all the liquid pent up about to burst –

With that train of thought, Cyan suddenly felt the first drop of pee tingling at their entrance. They panicked, jumping up from the bench and squeezing their thighs together, frozen. Fuck, no, please not a leak! Not yet! They thought frantically.

“Is something wrong?” Indy asked innocently. “Don’t you want to finish your soda before we go?”

“N-no more soda, please!” Cyan begged, crossing one leg over the other and bending at the waist. Their bladder threatened that drop closer and closer to their tip, and Cyan was desperate to gain any amount of control. “Indy, I need a bathroom, now! I have to pee so bad, please.”

Indy shook their head. “Not until you’ve finished that soda,” they replied. “Until then, you keep holding it in.”

Cyan shook their head, unable to fathom putting any more liquid into their already thrashing bladder. Pee rippled along their lower half and they wrapped their arms around themself in need. “B-but I’m going to leak!” they whispered loudly. It was thankfully pretty deserted at this area of the mall, but Cyan was still embarrassed to be seen standing like this in public.

“Not my problem,” Indy replied, although their piercing eyes and upturned smirk indicated that they were certainly enjoying the show. “You’ll hold it until you’ve finished your drink. Big boys should be able to hold two drinks without needing to pee.”

Cyan shivered, deciding quickly to obey Indy rather than waste more time arguing, and guzzled down the rest of the drink. They sucked at the straw until the cup was empty, sugary cherry flavor coating their tongue and sloshing into their belly. They gasped when they were done, “There! It’s gone. Can I please go to the bathroom now?”

Indy mock sighed, but nodded. “Well, really you shouldn’t need to go yet, since you only just finished your drink, but since you did listen very well, I suppose I could let you pee now.” Indy stood up and began moving towards the restrooms located on the other side of the fountain.

I’m going to make it, Cyan thought triumphantly, scurrying along with Indy, thighs rubbing together as they walked. I’m so close to peeing oooh god, oh god please let me make it to the door –

“Closed for Cleaning”

Immediately Cyan’s stomach dropped, and their bladder threatened to burst right there in their pants. The sight of the closed sign outside the bathroom was unbelievable, after their body was so ready to release. Cyan tensed their muscles and moaned, leaning against the side wall. “Indy, Indy it’s closed!” they whined. “A-another bathroom, please, now!”

“Oh dear,” Indy said, sounding much less surprised than Cyan. “It looks like they are closed. Too bad. Can’t you just wait until we get home?”

Home? Home was 45 minutes away, plus the bumpy roads and seatbelts, Cyan couldn’t stomach the thought. They hissed as a sharp throb of their bladder caused them to sway their hips and throw their head back in desperation. “I won’t make it home!” they cried. “I need to pee right now!”

“Well, if you really don’t think you can hold it...I do know where another bathroom is around here.” Indy eyed Cyan hungrily, flashing a shark like grin at the state of them. “It’s a bit out of the way, Violet told me about it earlier at the shop. It’s one that employees will sometimes use if they want to cheat into having a longer bathroom break by walking the distance. It’s always open, unlike the other bathrooms here on a Sunday cleaning schedule.”

“Yes!” Cyan panted. “Anything, Indy, just take me now! Please!”

“If you insist,” Indy replied. They took Cyan by the hand and guided them back across the mall.

Cyan wriggled and danced next to Indy, fighting off urge after bubbling urge to release their pent up piss right there in their pants, all onto the mall floor. After a minute of walking, Indy took Cyan through a side door, one that usually looks like an employee entrance to the back doors of the stores. On the wall inside there was a painted bathroom sign, and an arrow pointing to the right. Indy led a trembling Cyan in that direction, and through a set of double doors leading to –

Another long hallway. Cyan turned to Indy, panicked and confused and drowning in their own piss. “Indy, where’s the bathroom? The sign, it said it was this way!”

“It is,” Indy replied, continuing to walk. “I told you, it’s a bit further away. We have to keep walking. Just hold it, pup.”

Cyan was holding it, they were trying so hard to hold it, but the pressure was too much. They were bursting, their need so bad that they felt like their entire insides were just lemonade and cherry soda, sloshing around inside them like a bottle ready to pop. They whimpered, hurrying along the hallway.

It soon became apparent that Indy was telling the truth about how far away this bathroom was. They passed through three more doorways with signs indicating to go left or right to find the bathroom, but all they kept finding was more hallway, and no relief in sight. Cyan felt wild, animal like in their primal need to release. When they came to a short three step decline in their path, Cyan stumbled their way down, and in their hard landing felt their bladder shudder and a small spurt of pee escaped, wetness blooming on their underwear.

“Ahhh-“ Cyan hissed, freezing in place and shoving a hand into their crotch. Pee tickled their entrance, and Cyan moaned as they fought back another wave that threatened to come out. Their entire lower body trembled to hold back the ocean that was roaring inside them from exploding out. Ooooooh, I have to pee! Cyan moaned internally. I’m going to piss myself! Please, where is the bathroom, I need a bathroom!

“What’s the matter?” Indy asked, looking to Cyan. “Did puppy spring a leak?” Their tone was casual, teasing. Cyan whined.

“Ooooh, y-yes, yes I leaked,” they confessed, bending their knees and twisting their legs together as they bounced in place. “Indy, where is this bathroom? I c-can’t hold it anymore!”

“It’s a bit further this way,” Indy said, gesturing to yet another door that surely led to another corridor and likely not to the immediate relief of a glistening, porcelain toilet that Cyan had been longing for well over two hours now.

“I n-need a toilet now, Indy! Now!” Cyan tried to straighten up, teetering as their piss sloshed back and forth in their bladder, warning of another leak. Their pee hole tingled menacingly, the sensation utterly unbearable.

“We’re going, we’re going,” Indy replied, continuing to walk forward. “Well, you’re not going yet, but we’ll get there. Until then, I expect you to be a good pup and hold it.”

“Ooooh, hurry, please hurry Indy,” Cyan pleaded, picking up the pace with them and squeezing their thighs as they walked. Pee crashed against their bladder walls as they moved. “I can’t hold it!”

“You’ll just have to find some way to handle it,” Indy replied, not walking nearly fast enough for Cyan’s liking. “There’s nowhere for you go to yet.”

Cyan felt their bladder surge downwards at Indy’s comment, rejecting that fact with the more pressing fact that Cyan couldn’t not piss. They were full to the brim and already starting to runneth over. After passing yet another set of useless double doors and banking another right following another useless bathroom sign, they felt another splash of urine flow down their urethra. Cyan doubled over, bouncing and moaning, practically on their knees with how scrunched up they were, dying to hold it, just hold it a few more minutes, surely the bathroom has to be close by now?

Indy looked down at Cyan’s frantic grinding and moaning and gave them a gentle touch on the shoulder. They were unbelievably turned on, and also impressed of how far Cyan was making it. It’s maybe the longest they’ve held during this game. “C’mon pup,” Indy said. “Get up. Hold it, we’re almost there.”

With a groan, Cyan stood up, and felt a sudden electric current of pure desperate need run up their spine. Their whole body was tingling, their lower belly shaking with the effort of holding back more piss than Cyan had ever held in their life. “Ooooh, I can’t take it anymore!” they cried, making a mad dash forward down the hallway and through the next set of doors, hand shoved haphazardly into their crotch. They could hear Indy’s feet hitting the floor behind them, keeping up. “I’m going to have an accident! I need to gooooo!”

Cyan burst through the next set of double doors, and to their surprise, found themself in an underground parking lot. They had just enough time to register the thought this must be extra parking for employees before their bladder shuddered and a spray of pee escaped past their shaking hand, trickling down Cyan’s thigh inside their cargo pants.

I’m peeing! I’m peeing! They thought frantically. They looked around but didn’t see a bathroom. “Where is it? Oooooh where’s the bathroom?” Cyan pleaded, kneading and twisting and grinding down in a desperate attempt to prevent another leak.

Indy appeared next to Cyan, also looking around for the bathroom. They knew it was in this garage, and after a moment, saw the sign on the door for it on the other end of the parking lot. But before they could say anything-

“I’m going to have an accident! I’m going! I can’t hold it!” Cyan wailed, unable to think straight anymore. They were losing it, fully and quickly, and couldn’t bear to take another step forward without voiding the endless amount of piss that was fighting its way out of them. Cyan grabbed themself and looked around like a deer in headlights. “Indy, hurry, is anyone watching? Is anyone else here?”

Indy knew immediately what Cyan meant, and felt their face flush with arousal. Cyan wasn’t going to make it, they were going to lose it right here in the parking lot. And Indy, excited at this turn of events, was about to let them.

Indy took an exaggerated look around the clearly empty parking lot, hearing Cyan heave a long groan as they twisted like a pretzel, bending practically to their knees before bouncing back up. Finally, Indy said “Yes, pup. You’re all clear. Go on.”

The moment Cyan heard their permission, they whipped themselves out and a spray of pee burst out of them and against the concrete pillar by their side. Pee gushed out forcefully and audibly, the stream pattering down the wall and onto the ground in a puddle. Indy watched, impressed, as their partner emptied hours worth of pent up piss. Cyan moaned loudly, their voice echoing around them, as relief washed through them. It felt orgasmic, to finally let out every drop that had been torturing them all afternoon.

When the stream finally stopped, Cyan tucked themself away and turned bashfully to Indy. “I uh...I couldn’t hold it anymore.”

Indy nodded, a laugh escaping them. “No, it looks like you couldn’t. Poor puppy had to loose it in the parking lot, huh?”

“Heh, yeah..” Cyan said, chuckling a little. “Umm, I feel much better now though, so.”

Indy nodded. “I bet you do. You pissed for so long I thought you might have drank a whole ocean.”

“It sure felt like it,” Cyan said. “I really had to go.”

“Well, maybe next time you’ll make it to the bathroom,” Indy said, pointing to the bathroom across the lot. Cyan followed Indy’s gesture and finally saw the bathroom themselves. They sighed. “Oh, so close. Yeah, maybe next time.”

“Maybe next time,” Indy repeated, giving Cyan a gentle kiss and rubbing a hand across their back. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Cyan said, relieved. “Let’s head home.”

#omorashi #omorashi story #pee #pee holding #bladder control #transmasc omo #trans omo #nonbinary omo #yes cyan is the name i use here too i just like the color blue and all of the different types of blue a lot #also im lazy with names and prefer the pokemon model of naming #uhhh the end i hope you like it

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oddsconvert · 25 days ago

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I dunno if magic ones are okay but if so, body swap w august and Declan?

If not: Declan + cute puppy (or other animal if he’s allergic)

BODYSWAP?!?! YES. THAT ONE! I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE! 😅

TW: body swap, mentions/reference of previous torture/captivity, vampire whumpee, vampire caretaker, bloodbag whumpee, drug mention

Declan’s eyes snapped open, adrenaline gushed through his veins. An unquenchable thirst clawed at his throat and a primal hunger wrenched his stomach. Never, in his whole sorry life, had he felt so starved - even throughout all his stolen years in Vince’s cruel hands. A desperate craving needled him, but a craving for what exactly? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it…

He cast off the blanket and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but the familiar numbness and heaviness in his limbs had somehow completely vanished. Instead, a sudden surge of energy pulsed through Declan. He felt light, almost buoyant. His frailty had washed away - his muscles now toned again, bulged beneath his clothes, and his bones no longer felt the weight of concrete.

Disorientation overwhelmed him as he stumbled to his feet, movement still so foreign to him. His eyes frantically scanned his surroundings. He found himself not in the room he had drifted into a pain-filled sleep in hours ago, the room he had lay helpless and dormant in.

Crystal chandeliers bathed this room in a soft, ethereal glow. Rich, velvet curtains draped the large windows, blocking out all and any harsh light of day. A stone fireplace, currently dormant, dominated one wall, its mantle adorned with a collection of antique artifacts and towers of leather-bound books. The air was thick with the scent of exotic incense. There was no mistaking that this was the vampire’s bedroom.

Declan’s mind raced, fear and confusion warring within him. Why would August move him to his bedroom? He feels more and more like a caged animal by the day, even if the cage is gilded. The vampire’s intentions are forever a mystery to Declan.

He staggered towards the bathroom, eager to quench that nagging thirst. He spun the tap on, cool water rushing into the basin. He leaned over, lapping greedily at the running water like a dog. But it wasn’t enough. He drank and drank, until his tongue grew fatigued, but the thirst persisted. Gasping for breath, he gripped the edge of the sink. In the corner of his eye, he caught his reflection in the mirror.

A scream tore from his lips as he recoiled in terror.

Staring back at him was the monster. The vampire holding him captive. August. Blood-red eyes, fangs like daggers and skin as pale as the moon. But as he moved, the creature moved with him, mimicking his every gesture. A cold dread settled over him, he was violently shaking. He lifted his hand to touch his cheek and the reflection, August, strokes his cheek too.

It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be. It must be yet another nightmare, so strung out on painkillers that he’s hallucinating out of his mind. But as he reached out to touch his reflection, his fingers met cold, hard glass. Panic took over. This was real. He was trapped in August's body, no longer a prisoner in his own body… but a prisoner of anothers.

He could run. He could fight. In this body, he could do anything. He could go home. But at what cost? He could escape August’s clutches, but he would forever be bound to this monstrous form. He wouldn’t even step past the border to human territory before Hunters would dogpile him.

A more terrifying thought struck him: If he was in August's body…then where was August?

Declan bolted out of the bedroom, rushing to find his own room, the room he had been locked in. One by one, he tried each door, his hope dwindling with every failed attempt. Finally, a glint of light caught his eye. With trembling fingers, he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

There he was, laying on the four-poster bed. A husk. His own broken body lying beaten on the bed. A skeletal figure, barely human at that, its skin stretched taut over protruding bones. Tubes and wires snaked beneath the covers and buried into his flesh, pumping god knows what into him. He’s so frail, he looks like if the wind blew too hard, it would snap his twig-like legs. His eyes were so dull and lifeless, just gawking at the ceiling.

A sob burst from his heaving chest. He trembled uncontrollably, muscles seizing and spasming. Declan fell down to knees, hands clutching at his hair. He couldn't bear to look at himself, how pathetic and helpless he looked. Like he was knocking on death’s door.

“D-...D-e-cl…an?” his own voice rasped, strained and struggling. Declan looked up, watching his own body weakly writhe on the bed, the Adam's apple fluttering and gulping as it choked on defiant words. Declan pulled himself to his feet, stumbling back - a hand clutching his heart….well…August’s heart.

“August?” Declan speaks, though it’s August’s deep voice rumbling confidently out from his chest. It’s no great feat to speak, he doesn’t stumble and stutter over every painful word.

Declan could see the light in his eyes, August’s soul in his body. He could feel the terror and anguish.

Declan, heart heavy with a mix of horror and disbelief, sank onto the edge of the bed. He reached out, tentatively touching the cold, limp fingers.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a strange sense of peace. The comfort and connection he had yearned for. But it was a bittersweet solace, knowing it was born from such a tragic circumstance. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

“Do you understand now? Why I am the way I am? Why I’m so *scared*?”

August weakly nodded. Heavy breaths huffed through nostrils, shuffling in pain and discomfort. Of course, he understands now. Ten seconds in that infernal hell that is Declan’s body and mind is enough suffering for ten lifetimes.

Declan stroked his hand. “What do you feel?”, he asked, knowing all too well what the vampire is feeling. He was suffering. August whined in response, lips working overtime to try and form the shapes of his words. “D-D…eath-”, he groaned.

“-Like any second you’ll see the light and when it comes for you, you’ll run towards it?”

August nodded again, a tear rolling down his…no, Declan’s cheek. Declan thumbs it away as quick as it falls.

“That’s why I need to go home. I’ve lived a near decade, scared that every day would be my last. I just…want to go home. I want my mom. I want my dad…before it’s too late. I don’t want to waste another day.”

August silently sobs and nods ever so slowly again, eyes squeezed tight and pressing more salty tears free. He signalled for the whiteboard on the bed stand, pointing his trembling finger towards it. Declan handed it over. His heart ached as he looked at August, a mirror image of his own suffering. He knew the vampire understood now, the depth of his fear, the weight of his mortality.

How did you survive this?

"Sometimes I didn't want to," Declan whispered.

August's hand trembled as he scribbled on the whiteboard again.

You're stronger than I could ever dream of being.

As he looked at the vampire, weakened and vulnerable, Declan realised he'd been horribly wrong this whole time. August was no threat, he was capable of suffering, of feeling fear and despair. They were two sides of the same coin, bound by the fragile thread of life.

You didn’t deserve this.

Declan squeezed his hand harder. “I don’t believe you deserve this either. As terrifying as it is…this was my lot in life…my burden to bear. I can’t just leave you like this. This body...it's mine. It's broken, but it's all I have. And you...you belong in here.” Declan points towards him with a smile.

August's forced a reciprocated weak and pained smile, his lips twitching.

In my mind, they'll return to their own bodies at midnight (we love a cinderella dilemma). But boy do I love suffering, in pain August....need him crying more tbh.

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grandlinedreams · 10 months ago

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|| did i make myself cry a little w this? Yeah

|| warnings: mentions of nightmares and light depiction of a panic attack, vomiting, Cassian is a good beeb, reader was UTM w Rhys

Cassian is dying. You know because he's in front of you, face down in a puddle of his own blood. There's so much of it, choking you with the copper tang ㅡ and you can do nothing to help him.

She knows it too, because Amarantha's eyes are blazing with cruel, triumphant light at the way your face drains of color. She steps towards Cassian, watches you flinch as she stands in the mess of his blood and bends, hauling him up just enough that you can see his face. "This," she says, "is what happens when you disobey me. I will take everything you love and destroy it in front of you."

It's dark when you lurch upright, dark enough that for one horrifying moment, you can't tell where you are. But then your senses are settling, registering the glimmer of stars outside the window, the billow of air that cools the sweat beading on your forehead. You lean forward, hand clapped over your mouth as you try to steady your breathing, the uneven jump of your heart.

You aren't there anymore. You're home, back in Velaris, back withㅡ

Weight shifts beside you, a hand that sweeps out to meet your body ㅡ and then Cassian is sitting up too, blinking at you as you stare mutely at him. "[Name]?" His brow furrows, concern tinging his tone. "You okay?"

No, you want to tell him, to laugh at the incredulity of being anything like okay. You haven't been in fifty years ㅡ and you're not sure you ever will be. Amarantha is gone, but you're not sure you'll ever get back what she took from you.

(Cassian's blood, thick and hot and staining everything it touches. The floor, his leathers, your skin because this is your fault, all your faultㅡ)

"[Name]?" Worry makes Cassian's voice sharp, and you flinch when he reaches for you. Your stomach lurches.

"I think I'm going to be sick," you rasp, and then you're on your feet, darting for the sanctuary of the bathroom. Your knees hit cold stone as your stomach empties, the violent twist of it as you gag and choke, eyes stinging with tears as your body forces everything up until there's nothing but spit and bile.

Your forehead meets the cool edge of the basin, chill sliding down your spine as you pant. You can't breathe ㅡ too tight, not enough air as darkness closes in on you, just likeㅡ

A hand meets your back, as warm as the scent that follows as Cassian kneels, reaching to pull you to him. "Breathe," he says softly, "copy me. Can you do that?"

You offer a shuddering gasp and a nod, fingers curling and uncurling as you fight to follow the steady rise and fall of Cassian's chest. He's patient with you, waiting until your breathing has steadied to push sweat-damp hair out of your face.

"Nightmare?" You nod, and he guides your head to his neck, cradling you to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head, and his grip tightens on you protectively as he gets to his feet, guiding you back towards your shared bed. It worries him, the amount of nightmares you've had since coming home ㅡ but neither you nor Rhys will talk about what happened. He doesn't blame you, he can only imagine the horrors you've seen and endured.

Cassian pulls you to him, holding you as tightly as you'll allow, hand at your back and his lips in your hair. He doesn't know if you'll go back to sleep, or if you even can ㅡ so he holds you, for as long as you want him to.

#ㅡmine.#cassian x reader #acotar x reader #hi im p much done w my patient and I've got uhhh 2hrs left

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hometoursandotherstuff · 10 months ago

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Americans move &/or retire to Mexico b/c it's cheaper, and the historic 1910 Casa Limon in Merida, Yucatan, Mexico has 4bds, 7ba, and at $482,300 it's a great price for a beautiful villa. Plus, it's just 7 minutes away from the bohemian park of Santa Lucia and within walking distance to Paseo Montejo where you will find some of the best restaurants, coffee shops, museums and art galleries of the Historic Center.

It has a lovely central entrance hall.

And, look at this magnificent marble staircase.

Lovely sunny living room has doors to a terrace.

Beautiful columns separate the living room from the dining room.

Colorful Mexican tiles in the kitchen. Isn't this an unusual sink?

A built-in dish cabinet.

Love that the kitchen has everything- colorful ceramic tiles, marble, stone, and tile floor.

Original doors with a decorative glass and metal surround.

Colorful ceramic bathroom sink and a vintage medicine chest.

This bath has a stone basin sink and everything else is tile.

Look at the outdoor kitchen.

The courtyard is decorated with art pieces.

And, look at the pool.

This outer building is interesting and has potential.

Solar panels make the house energy efficient.

This patio is so beautiful, especially the gate.

Look at how pretty it is lit up at night.

https://www.point2homes.com/MX/Home-For-Sale/Yucatan/Merida/Chuminopolis/Casa-Limon-Marvelous-Historic-gem/142193048.html?

#villa mexico #old house dreams #villas #houses #house tours #home tour

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acsbathrooms · 5 months ago

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Natural Stone Basins Australia

We think that practicality and luxury should go hand in hand. For this reason, we provide natural stone basins Australia that turn your bathroom into a stylish and elegant retreat. Our freestanding stone bathtubs are made from premium natural stone and have distinctive tones and textures that elevate any area. Our stone basins come in a variety of styles to match any decor, from sleek and contemporary to rustic and natural, all while offering long-lasting durability and minimal upkeep. Bring some natural elements into your bathroom makeover by stopping by to have a look at our exquisite selection of home goods. Timeless beauty will boost your area.

#stone basins #stone basins bathroom #small freestanding bath #freestanding baths

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kimbapisnotsushi · 6 months ago

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As far as public bathrooms go, the one at Ocean’s Edge isn’t all that bad for throwing yourself a pity party in.

The sinks are all sleek and modern-looking, with gold faucets and polished stone basins. Large oval mirrors hang above them, and—true to the club’s name—little neon fish swim all over the navy-blue walls. [Speakers somewhere in the ceiling play the lulling sounds of waves rolling against the shore.] There’s even an air freshener plugged into the corner that puffs out coconut-scented mist every ten minutes[, so that you can truly feel like you’re in a tropical paradise while throwing up from however many drinks it takes to make you forget about a shitty day.]

The black stall isn’t exactly roomy, but Morisuke has just enough space to stretch out his legs while he perches on the edge of the toilet, chewing his bottom lip as he stares at his phone. The screen is bright in the bathroom’s dim lighting and draws all of Morisuke’s attention like a moth to a flame.

Please, reads the last message. It had been two weeks since then. Kuroo, talk to me. What did I do?

Kuroo never responded. Rereading the conversation makes Morisuke feel like he’s dragging the claw of a hammer across his heart, but he keeps scrolling farther and farther back.

Let’s end it, Kuroo had written. This didn’t really mean anything, after all. I have better things I could do with my time.

Six months. Six fucking months, and none of it meant anything, apparently. Not the late nights they stayed up to make fun of inaccurate sci-fi series, or the times they met early at the cafe for breakfast because it was their only chance to get together for the day. Not even the time Kuroo opened up about his mother, his gaze distant, and Morisuke had held his hand to anchor him to what was real and here and whole. He still remembers that soft smile Kuroo had given him after, the way they'd curled up on the couch like two puzzle pieces slotting together. Morisuke had offered him tea, hot chocolate, whatever he needed. Kuroo just laughed and kissed his temple.

All I need is you, he had said. You're perfect, Yakkun. i couldn't ask for anything more.

And then not even a week later, Morisuke was getting dumped over text.

"Stupid," he says out loud now. “Dumbass. Idiot. Why the fuck did I ever fall for him?”

The bathroom door creaks open, letting noise from the club spill in, but Morisuke doesn’t pay it any mind until he hears a familiar voice calling out his name.

“Morisuke? Are you here?”

“No,” Morisuke grumbles. His voice echoes off the bathroom walls. “Go away.”

“You made me promise to stop you before you do anything stupid.” Footsteps fall closer until they pause right outside Morisuke’s stall. Damn Sugawara Koushi and his unwavering loyalty—he’d probably break in if he had to. “Are you planning on doing anything stupid?”

Morisuke unlocks the stall door and lets it swing open. He glares at Koushi, who just smiles back at him. It’s a hot summer night and they’d been surrounded by heated bodies on the dance floor, but Koushi still looks totally put together. Meanwhile, Morisuke is sweating through his socks and the back of his neck feels way too warm.

So, yeah, he’d needed a break. It’s not like he came to the restroom just to feel sorry for himself.

“You had me worried,” Koushi says. “The last time I saw you, you were downing your seventh shot. And that was after the two drinks you already had.”

Was it really? Morisuke hadn’t been keeping track. He’d just asked for something strong. And again. And again. And then for one more, perhaps two or three times. Maybe five.

Whatever. Morisuke is feeling perfectly fine. His head is a little foggy, sure, but he’s fine. He can totally think this through.

“I wanna text him.”

Koushi makes a choked sound. “Oh, no. You are very drunk, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.” Morisuke frowns at his phone. “He never told me why. I want to know that much, at least.”

The door to the stall next to Morisuke’s flies open with a bang, and he and Koushi jump. A body wedges itself between them: tall and broad-shouldered, with artfully-tousled chestnut hair, glasses framing brown-sugar eyes, and a jawline that could cut through steel. Hot, but not Morisuke’s type.

Kuroo had been Morisuke’s type.

-- an excerpt from don't text your ex, a kuroyaku exes-to-lovers fic where yaku gets unsolicited advice from a stranger in the club bathroom

#kuroyaku #yaku morisuke #kuroo tetsurou #sugawara koushi #not tagging our mystery stranger because i want to leave that unknown for the actual fic #UNLESS you think you know who it is 👀👀#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fic #sou says stuff #sou writes stuff

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rynneer · 10 months ago

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Misty Memories Cold

When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after an accident in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.

< Previous | Next >

Chapter Two

You’ve never missed plumbing more than you do now, looking around the bathroom. Polished stone walls, a polished stone floor. Just like every room in the mountain. Oh, how you long for a warm, hardwood floor.

Small basins sit on a granite counter below a mirror, with a bucket tucked underneath for easy refilling. The mirror is covered with a heavy cloth—Fíli says it’s been shattered and will fall apart if the cloth is moved. The rightmost basin is spotless, reflecting the light from the lamp hanging over your head. Another is decorated with long hairs that you pulled from your head when you tried to brush your poor mane.

Though at first you chuckle at how neat Fíli keeps his side of the counter, it dies in your throat. Maybe he no longer does it, but you recall that early in the journey, he would only tidy his things up when something was bothering him. To see his side scrubbed so clean—he must be very bothered.

It doesn’t take much to figure out what’s bothering him, either. It’s been a few days since you awoke in the middle of the night, head emptied of your life together. And while you certainly have feelings for him, your schoolgirl crush falters against his fierce love. Your heart leaps when you imagine touching him, yet you flinch from his hands. The right balance has yet to be struck.

With a sigh, you swipe your hand along the cool metal of your washbasin, gathering the hairs into a ball and flicking it onto the counter. You’ll dispose of it when you finish.

Fíli, eager to tend to your every need, already filled the large, marble bathtub with hot water. A pleased sigh escapes you as you step in. But your heel slides forward on the bottom of the tub, and you fall with a yelp, your head smacking the stone before you slip under.

drowning. drowning drowning drow–

Sudden panic shocks your system. You surge back above the surface, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts.

“Y/N!” Fíli bursts through the door. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Instinctively, you hug your knees to your chest to hide your body. Fíli rubs your shoulders from behind. “Easy, love. What happened?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, taking deep, steady breaths. The back of your head throbs painfully. “I just fell. I’m alright.”

“You’re not alright,” comes his worried voice from behind you. A groan of pain escapes you when he touches the tender spot where your skull met the stone. He leans forward over your shoulder and rinses his hand in the water before standing and snatching a towel from the counter. You stare dumbly at the red liquid falling through the water from where his fingers left it. With a shaky hand, you probe the back of your head. Your fingertips come away red with blood. More pain, as Fíli presses the towel against your hair.

“It’s not too bad,” he says after a long silence, lifting the towel and gently parting your wet hair around the wound. “Just a cut. Head wounds always look worse than they are.”

You’re not sure if he’s trying to reassure you, or himself.

Fíli dips the bloodied towel in the water and wrings it out. He places it in your hand and brings it to your head. “Hold that there for a moment.” You hear him bustling around in the wooden cabinet by the door. He mumbles something under his breath about dust and cobwebs before grunting in frustration. “There!” His bare feet slap against the floor. For the first time, he comes around in front of you. In his hands, he carries a roll of bandages and a small flask of alcohol.

You almost drop the towel from your head in your rush to cover your chest. Heat pulses from your face in waves so intense that he must be able to feel it.

Fíli’s shoulders sag. “I’m your husband. You do not need to cover up in front of me,” he reminds you, though you both know you won’t listen. He strips his belt from his trousers and places it in your hand. “Close your eyes. Bite down on this.”

Your brow furrows, but you do as he says. Fíli removes the towel from your hand. You hiss in pain as he presses an alcohol-soaked bandage against your head, burning like a brand of fire. You’re glad for the belt now as your teeth dig into the leather. You lean forward instinctively to escape the pain, but Fíli quickly puts a hand on your forehead and pulls you back

“Hold still,” he grunts as he begins to wrap you up. You strain against him, the pain starting to make your eyes water. “I said, hold still!” he snaps this time, fingers digging into your temple.

Surprised at his harsh tone and rougher handling, you relent. After days of feather-soft touches and kind, understanding words, it’s almost a relief. Maybe he hasn’t quite lost his edge yet. Silence falls as he finishes his ministrations.

“I’m sorry, amrâlimê,” Fíli says at last. He shifts so he’s kneeling at your side instead. “I hate to see you in pain, and then my touch caused you more pain when I was trying to help… it’s too much like the first time.”

“The first time?”

Fíli winces and curses. You guess he didn’t mean to let that slip. He holds out his hand, helping you out of the now lukewarm water. It takes all your willpower not to hunch over, to cover yourself in front of him. He reaches up to the curtain hiding the mirror. Before you can protest, remind him that it’s broken, he sweeps the cloth away and wraps it around you as a makeshift towel.

The glass is pristine, newly polished. Not a single flaw mars its surface.

“I didn’t want to add more to your worries if I could help it,” he explains. “I wanted a chance to warn you before you saw.” Fíli leads you to the mirror.

When your face comes into view, you gasp. A harsh pink scar slices across your right cheek, ending on the underside of your jaw. You raise a shaking hand to trace the path, feeling now the slight dip in your skin. A few other scars pepper your body, ones you’ve already seen, but none as obvious as this.

“I tried to keep you out of the fighting, I really did,” Fíli’s whisper is shaky. “But we got separated… and then it just wouldn’t heal properly and–” He breaks off, tears welling up in his eyes, the memory clearly upsetting him.

With tears in your own eyes, you step closer and lean against him, resting your head on his chest. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “For everything. I’m so sorry, Fíli.”

Fíli takes you into his arms, laying his cheek on your head. The two of you stay like that for a long time. He was right—you do fit very nicely in his arms at this size.

“Y/N? Fíli?” There’s a thudding on the door. “Are you finished yet? I need to take a piss.”

Fíli kisses the top of your head, pulling away from you. He adjusts the curtain around your shoulders and smooths the bandage over your wound. “We’ll get you a proper bath later. Promise.”

We’ll get through this, you hear instead. Promise.

He ushers you out of the bathroom, barely dodging his little brother as Kíli blows by you and slams the door behind him.

You raise an eyebrow. “Wow. He really needs to piss.”

Fíli shakes his head and chuckles. He flings open the wardrobe doors and pulls out a long, dark blue dress, trimmed with silver. His colors. “I thought you might wear this tomorrow night,” he explains, crossing back over to you and holding up against your front. “I just had it made.”

“It’s nice,” you hum in agreement, rubbing the velvet sleeve between your fingers. “Um, what’s tomorrow night, again?”

He rolls his eyes. “Amad insisted on a big celebration for my first birthday in Erebor.”

You snap your head up. “Your birthday? Fíli, I’m sorry, I didn’t know–”

“I’ve had eighty-two of them already,” he reminds you. “It is not that big of a deal.”

“Not a big enough deal to tell your wife?”

He replaces the dress in the wardrobe, grabbing a discarded nightgown from off the large bed. “My wife has had other things on her mind.” Fíli pulls it down over your head, smoothing it down your sides as you finally drop the curtain. There was a hint of a smile on his face when you called yourself his wife.

“Re-learning her way around Erebor, for one.” Kíli emerges from the bathroom and gives you a friendly shove, sending you stumbling.

One thing you’ve learned well, the brothers are a package deal. Fíli doesn’t go far without Kíli dogging his steps. You’re almost surprised he doesn’t share your chambers—but his chambers do neighbor yours.

Fíli catches you, flashing him a glare. “Careful, Kee.”

Kíli returns his brother’s look with wide, innocent eyes. “What? We’ve got to toughen her back up.”

“She’s hurt her head.”

“Oh, I thought the bandage was some sort of new fashion.” Kíli pulls you away from Fíli, lifting you by the waist and tossing you onto the bed. “Straight to bed for you, then!”

“Kíli!”

The cold air stung your eyes and shocked your lungs as you made your way, haltingly, back to the gates of the Lonely Mountain. All around you, soldiers celebrated triumphs or cradled fallen comrades. Most remained on the fields, but a few dwarves were also making a beeline for the mountain. Company members, all of them. You’d hastily agreed to assemble in the entry hall whenever it seemed the battle was over.

Bofur. Ori. Nori. Glóin. As you reached the gates, you found yourself taking inventory, scanning your companions to make sure everyone was accounted for, and mostly intact. It made you feel like you were doing something useful.

Five were missing.

You turned your anxious eyes towards the Ravenhill. Thorin. Dwalin. Bilbo. Fíli. Kíli.

A hand squeezed your arm. “Lass–”

“Don’t, Balin,” you interrupted him. “Please don’t tell me they’re gonna be okay.”

He cleared his throat. “I was going to say, you need to get your face seen to.”

“It can wait,” you shrugged him off. Your face had long since numbed. Unfortunately for the rest of your body, it was better shielded from the cold by the thick clothes you’d borrowed from the dwarves. Your left ankle throbbed, sending twinges of pain up your leg with each step. A trail of dried blood led down your arm from a laceration to your shoulder, slowly scabbing over.

Balin shook his head and led you to sit down by the wall. You leaned your head back against the stone. Every breath billowed out in a frosty cloud.

He pulled a handkerchief from somewhere in his coat. “Óin!” he called to the medic, checking up on Ori a few yards away. “Anything for our lass?”

There was no response from the half-deaf dwarf until Ori swatted at his arm and gestured towards you. Óin grumbled something and tossed a flask in Balin’s direction. The old dwarf wet his handkerchief and started gently wiping at your face. You winced at the cold touch.

“Look!” someone shouted.

You lifted your head, dreading what you would see. Two figures appeared over the crest of a hill. Bilbo and Dwalin, you assumed. Canon survivors. You held your breath, tracking the movements of the eagles in the sky, waiting for them to descend with dead bodies in their talons.

But none did. Behind Bilbo and Dwalin, three more dwarves followed. Alive—one limping, another clutching at an arm. But alive.

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring Balin’s protests, and sprinted as fast as you could. Jolts of pain shot through your leg until you could run no more. Fíli caught you in his arms as your ankle finally failed beneath you.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” you gasped, clutching at him. “You’re okay!” You’d forgotten all other words.

He hugged you to his chest, burying his face in your hair. “We’re alright. Everything is alright, amrâlimê.”

“Are you hurt?” you mumbled.

“Not badly.” Unsatisfied with the closeness, Fíli’s gloved hand curled around the back of your head and brought it even tighter against him.

You stifled a hiss of pain as his armor rubbed against your cheek.

He pulled back immediately, his eyes round and worried. “Oh, Mahal, Y/N,” he breathed. Fíli bit the end of his glove and yanked it off, tracing his thumb along a sensitive path on your face. When you again winced, he scooped you into his arms and rushed to catch back up with his brother and uncle.

Kíli, the limping one, nevertheless flashed you a quick grin. “We did it,” he panted.

You didn’t know what reaction you’d expected when Thorin and the boys returned. Cheers, celebration. Instead, they were met with silence, all activity stilled, the Company eying Thorin with uncertainty.

Thorin looked around. You could see him doing the same thing you had done, conducting a headcount. Satisfied, he gave a short nod. “See to the wounded. Balin, Dwalin, a moment.” The three dwarves gathered in the corner of the hall, heads down and voices low.

Careful of your ankle, Fíli sat you down and began cleaning your thawing face with Balin’s abandoned handkerchief. The gentle motions were comforting, until the alcohol-soaked cloth passed over your cheek. You jerked away with a yelp at the unexpected burst of pain.

Fíli winced, but he took your chin in his hand firmly. “It’s a bad wound, Y/N. I need to clean it.” He stripped off his glove. “Bite down on this for the pain. I’ll be as gentle as possible,” he promised.

Your eyes watered as he wiped you down, but you squeezed them tight and sank your teeth into the glove.

“I’m done,” he said at last. He patted himself down for a second, tearing off a scrap of his tunic and holding it against your cheek as a makeshift bandage. Taking his glove back, Fíli gave you a small smile.

You looked into his blue eyes, so full of life. Not hollow and sightless, the face that haunted your dreams. And Kíli, resting against the wall as Óin examined his leg. Not bleeding out in the snow. Thorin, talking quietly with his friends. Not lying atop the Ravenhill.

They were okay. Everything was okay. Finally, you let the walls holding back all your anxieties and fears fall. You collapsed against Fíli, weeping.

“Shh, shh,” he pleaded. He pressed gentle kisses into your hair. “Amrâlimê, please, please don’t cry.

“You were going to die,” you whispered, your breath hitching. “Please don’t leave me.”

His hand rubbed up and down your back. “I won’t ever leave you. I want to marry you!” Fíli drew back to look at you, his brow creased with sudden worry. “You will marry me, won’t you?”

You blinked away tears, voice still shaky. “Are… are you proposing?”

“Are you saying yes?”

The word stuck in your throat and it took you several tries to get it out. “Yes.”

The tension melted from his face. Fíli grinned, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, still careful of your wound. “We’ll be alright, amrâlimê.”

#fanfiction #fíli #kíli #the hobbit #fili x you #fili x reader #angst and hurt/comfort #it gets angstier before it gets fluffier #everybody lives #soft Fíli

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hmmarble · 6 months ago

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HMMARBLEDESİGN - DRAGON+

When it comes to elevating the elegance of your bathroom or kitchen, few materials compare to the timeless beauty of marble. Marble sinks have become a popular choice for homeowners and designers alike, offering a luxurious touch that can transform any space. With a myriad of styles and finishes, marble sinks not only deliver functionality but also serve as stunning focal points.

Marble Sink

A marble sink can transform any bathroom or kitchen into a luxurious space. Made from natural stone, a marble sink not only adds elegance but also durability to your home. The unique veining and patterns in marble ensure that each sink is one-of-a-kind, making it a statement piece in your decor.

When considering a marble sink, it is important to recognize the benefits it brings. Marble is known for its resistance to heat and its ability to enhance the aesthetic appeal of any design. Additionally, it can be easily polished to maintain its luster, assuring you that your marble sink will remain stunning for years to come.

However, proper care and maintenance are crucial for preserving the beauty of a marble sink. Regular sealing is recommended to protect against stains and etching, which can occur from strong acids and cleaning products. With the right upkeep, your marble sink can serve as a centerpiece in your home, showcasing timeless beauty and functionality.

Whether you are opting for a contemporary design or a classic style, a marble sink is a versatile choice that can complement a variety of themes. Its refined charm can elevate the ambiance of your space, making it feel more inviting and sophisticated.

Marble Sinks

Marble sinks are an exquisite addition to any bathroom or kitchen, providing a touch of luxury and elegance. Known for their stunning appearance and durability, marble sinks have become increasingly popular among homeowners and interior designers alike. With a wide variety of colors and patterns available, each piece is unique, allowing you to find the perfect match for your interior style.

One of the main advantages of using marble sinks is their aesthetic appeal. The natural veining and rich textures of marble can elevate the overall look of your space, making it feel more sophisticated. Whether you prefer a classic white marble with subtle grey veining or a bold dark marble with striking patterns, there’s a marble sink that can fit your vision.

Apart from their beauty, marble sinks are also known for their durability. Marble is a hard and long-lasting material, making it a great investment for any home. While it requires some maintenance to preserve its shine and prevent stains, a well-cared-for marble sink can last for decades. Regular sealing and gentle cleaning solutions are essential for maintaining the integrity of your marble sink.

When considering a marble sink, it's important to think about the design and functionality. Various styles, including undermount, vessel, and drop-in sinks, are available to suit different tastes and layouts. Each style offers a unique way to highlight the beauty of marble while ensuring practicality in daily use.

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With countless options available, selecting the right marble sink for your home can be an exciting journey. Explore different colors, sizes, and styles to find the perfect piece that complements your design vision and fits seamlessly into your bathroom or kitchen.

Marble Wash Basin

A marble wash basin is not just a practical addition to your bathroom or kitchen, but also a statement of elegance and style. Crafted from natural stone, these sinks offer a unique blend of functionality and aesthetic appeal that can elevate any space. The beauty of a marble sink lies in its intricate veining and rich textures, making it a captivating centerpiece.

One of the key advantages of a marble wash basin is its durability. Marble is a hard, resilient material that can withstand daily use while maintaining its contemporary charm. With proper care and maintenance, a marble sink can last for many years, making it a wise investment for any homeowner.

Beyond durability, the maintenance of a marble wash basin is relatively simple. Regular cleaning with gentle, non-abrasive cleaners will keep the surface pristine. However, it’s important to avoid harsh chemicals and acids that may damage the marble. Sealing your marble sink periodically can also help protect it from stains and water damage.

The versatility of marble wash basins is another reason for their growing popularity. They come in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors, allowing homeowners to choose the perfect sink that matches their decor. Whether you prefer a classic white marble or a striking black vein, there's a style to suit every taste.

In terms of installation, a marble wash basin can be integrated seamlessly into different countertop materials, enhancing the overall look of your bathroom or kitchen. Pairing a marble sink with fixtures made of brass or chrome can create an eye-catching contrast that will impress your guests.

Furthermore, the luxurious feel of a marble wash basin adds a touch of sophistication to your space. It not only serves a practical purpose but also transforms your bathroom or kitchen into a sanctuary of relaxation and comfort.

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writing-whump · 1 year ago

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Don't pretend to care

Part 2 of the Sushi poisoning (Part 1). Hector is recovering at home and has an emotional talk with Isaiah.

Hector woke up in his bed.

The air was stale and he was way too warm. Throwing the covers off he was reminded why he was there - his stomach muscles were sore to the core, like someone kicked him under the ribs multiple times.

How did he even get here? It was late afternoon, he was planning on surprising Arnie at lunch. Ahh, that's where it all went wrong.

Tentatively lifting himself up into a sitting position, he found a wash basin by his bed and a glass with water. His throat was rough and dry, and his mouth tasted terrible, but just the idea of water in his stomach made him slightly nauseous.

This whole thing had been a mess. He threw up his weight in sushi at the mall, had to be rescued by Isaiah, and got Arnie all panicked. The car ride home was a blur for him, he could barely put one foot after another at the elevator and he had to go to the bathroom immediately after they came when his bowls decided to get rid of everything that got in too deep to be thrown back up.

Jeez, what a day.

"You should drink some of that."

And it apparently wasn't ending yet.

Hector followed the voice to find Isaiah sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles. Coat and suit and all, like he was on a business meeting that happened to be in a room without chairs.

Hector rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't just seeing things. His oldest brother looking all nonchalant on the ground by the foot of Hector's bed seemed more like a ghost illusion than something that could happen.

"I send Arnie to the pharmacy. You threw up in your sleep, but you didn't wake up at all. You also almost passed out in the shower, so we figured we better watch over you." Still that neutral impersonal tone.

Hector cleared his throat. The surface felt like he gurgled nails. He was feeling more and more stupid over making such a fuss over bad food. Good thing he slept over those events.

"Any-" Hector coughed against his hand, "any particular reason you are sticking around?"

Isaiah gave him a leveled look before glancing down at Hector's shadow next to the bed. It was pulled out almost entirely, folded over itself like a lump of dark clothes.

Hector paled. "Was it...did I-...is Arnie-?"

Isaiah's face was like made of stone. "No. But your shadow was unruly. Kept jumping up and down looking for someone to fight. An enemy making you so miserable, I suppose." He gave Hector another stare that Hector couldn't read. "It calms down when I'm near."

Now Hector felt his face burning instead. Shadows were part of wolves. They were part of their souls, their real feelings, the truest, most violent and primitive parts of themselves.

And Hector's just obviously revealed everything there was to know. Everything Hector tried to cover up with excessive hostility, denial of ties...denial of any hurt.

Silence stretched between them.

Hector lowered his gaze to the floor, saying quietly: "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Stay when you don't want to. Pretend like you care when it's just a pose for you. Don't...don't make him believe you are going to be around, when you don't mean it."

"Is that what you think?"

Hector snarled, head snapping up to glare at Isaiah. He hated this. He hated that cold expression and even colder tone, the ways shadows were supposed to be truthful so Isaiah's was always controlled and quiet. He hated all of this.

"And what else should I be thinking? You never tell me anything. You never show me anything. Fucking poker face with you. Always. Just don't let anybody get to you. I don't know why the fuck you are doing this. Does it look better to pretend like you are a good big brother who- who answers calls and takes Arnie to lunch and-and pretends like he cares, cause it would be unseemly to look like you don't?! What, would your city wolf friends find it rude? Would your reputation suffer for it? What kind of crap is this?!"

Hector heard all about it. Isaiah, the eternal lone wolf who left the strongest pack in Western Europe. One would think that would make him an outcast and a loner, but no, it made him connected to fucking everybody. Every big pack in the city knew his name, had dealings with him, had gotten help from him in some way. He had his nose sticking everywhere, helping with truce dealings and territory negotiations and training pups. He had friends and acquaintances with every wolf, helped them to get into universities, helped teenage pups with their adult exams to get permission to work and study with humans.

The whole city was tainted by Isaiah's hand, like he made all the packs his own big personal web, with himself at the center.

At the Wolfson pack, he was the Executioner of the Leader's will, the scary one, the unreachable one. The unbeatable one.

Outside the family, he seemed to be the most helpful, friendly and influential wolf Hector never ever imagined.

Why did this happen? Why was Isaiah all training and coldness and distance at home, becoming a traitor, spitting at Father's legacy, but tore himself to pieces to be friends with strangers in the whole city? Assembling a pack of weirdos who needed his protection, when he had two brothers who missed him...who wanted him back?

Hector threw his legs over the rim of the bed, not able to bear to be in such a low position while he was burning with anger, his shadow slashing angrily around the bed.

It had Isaiah standing up as well, though he did it all smoothly, like this wasn't upsetting at all.

Hector's eyes blazed as he shot to his feet, grabbing Isaiah by the collar of that pristine white shirt and expensive-looking suit and pinned him against the wall with shaking hands. "What the hell is your deal? What do you want from us, huh?!"

Isaiah's green eyes stared back at him, wide and tranquil.

That was all Hector's busted body could take though. He swayed, grabbing for Isaiah's shoulders to stay upright as vertigo assaulted him. His legs went weak and his stomach muscles heaved and twisted like he was about to throw up.

"Sit down. Come on, sit down," Isaiah barked, moving towards the bed so Hector could collapse on it, breathing harshly. The blond wrapped his hand around his stomach, doubling over as he fought against the gags.

Isaiah crouched next to him, bringing the basin under Hector's chin. Damn it all, Hector wanted to be angry with Isaiah, for not getting help from him!

Hector strained over the basin with harsh coughs and gags with Isaiah giving up his position to sit down next to him, bracing Hector's shoulder so he would kip over. Only a pitiful mouthful of bile ended up being the result of Hector's straining, spit hanging from his lip all the way down.

Isaiah got a towel from the foot of the bed Hector hadn't noticed before, mopping his mouth and chin like a child before helping him lean back against the cushion.

Hector was busy taking deep gulping breaths against the nausea, rubbing his stomach to ease the cramps. They came and went with a force he didn't understand, he was running on empty.

Isaiah stayed at the edge of the bed, watching him with a concerned expression. "Maybe we should talk about this later."

Hector's eyes lolled towards him, hands kneading into his stomach angrily. He was sweaty and hot all over and tired from the struggle. "You only dare to come anywhere near me when I'm hurt or sick. No way we are talking about this any other time. Today or never with you." He wanted to sound more angry, but it came out more like a whisper.

Isaiah sighed, looking somewhere to the left where Hector's face was like he was in a heated internal debate with himself.

"I have no right to want anything from you. I have already ruined everything."

Hector looked at him with bleary eyes. "So what's this deal with Arnie then? He wasn't with you so much. You didn't ruin him all the way, so why start now?"

Isaiah actually winced at that. This close up, Hector could see the slow slow process of Isaiah putting the mask away. His face didn't actually change, but the cold stony expression melted away. His forehead creased, his mouth twisted together, his eyes got a haunted shade to them.

Hector stared at him, realizing his brother was truly giving him what he asked for.

Isaiah closed his eyes for a moment, then stepped away from the bed to lean against the wall opposite it, hands in his pockets. Another silence stretched between them.

"I'm not doing this for fun, Hector. I'm...this is hard for me too, okay?"

"Then tell me."

Isaiah flinched as if Hector punched him.

"I don't know where to start. I don't know how to talk about this. But everything I have done...I wanted to protect you. You and Arnie both. With what Father did...I couldn't-..." Isaiah made a funny expression. If his face could break into pieces Hector thought this is what it would look like.

"I needed to get out after what happened. I don't know how to explain- but Arnie he," Isaiah's eyes glinted with moisture when he looked up, "he wanted to believe in the best of me and I- I needed that so badly. I want to make everything up to you. Although I know you will never let me and I don't deserve to ask."

"Ask what?" Hector breathed out, stomach twisting in turmoil, heart somewhere in his throat.

Isaiah looked down, then up, then to the side, like he didn't know what to do with himself. Hector had not seen him like this since...ever.

"Is it so bad? For me to be close?" Isaiah said in a hoarse voice.

Hector curled up on his side, towards Isaiah but so one side of his face was hidden against the pillow. Waves of heat and cold coursed through him.

He didn't know what to say, what to do in the face of such raw emotion. Somewhere along the way he had given up on believing Isaiah still had any - that he could feel so deeply for them.

Was it really all just a facade? Did he keep himself together so hard to prevent this from spilling out every step of the way?

Hector could not bring himself to ask more questions. Isaiah said nothing else, fighting tears, pain etched into his face, sniffling a little as he tried to put himself back together.

It never crossed Hector's mind Isaiah might not be doing this willingly. That there might be reasons outside of his knowledge and understanding. That this was hard for Isaiah too. He just wanted to get under his skin, to see things, to see him feel things...

Now he wasn't so sure the truth would bring him any peace anymore.

@bellysoupset

#sickfic #emeto #hurt/comfort #bromance #my writing #werewolf wip #Hector

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