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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

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No Sugar Tonight 5

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The townhouse is big compared to your apartment, though most places are. Brock keeps his hand tight on yours as he brings you up the front steps. He punches a code into the lock, the numbers blocked out by his large figure. You teeter on your feet as he pushes down the lever and shoves the door inward.

He points you in ahead of him and adjusts the straps of the duffel bag hooked over his shoulder. Those are your things, parsed down to a single bag. He follows you in as your eyes skimp the walls. Despite your muddled fear, you can’t help but stand in awe of the antique panel and brick.

“You seem like the old-style type,” he plops the bag down on the wooden bench against the wall, “shoes.”

You look down and nod. You kneel to unlace your work sneakers and put them on the rack. He sits beside the duffel as he works at loosening his boots.

You tear your attention from the tear drop bulbs of the chandelier light above and look at him. Like really look at him. He’s in all black like always. His hair is a similarly dark hue and a shadow of stubble never leaves his square jaw. His shoulders are broad and straight and even sitting, he looks huge. He looks up and narrows his eyes as he catches your gaze.

“Sir, er, Brock,” you twist your palms together.

“Yes, baby,” he sits up, his shoulders squaring. The pet name tweaks in your stomach.

“Erm...” you peer around. “I... I don’t know.”

“You don’t like it?” He stands and you take a step back. “We can update it.”

“Um, no, it’s... pretty but... what... what am I doing here?”

He snorts. It’s as close to laughter as he’s come.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He nears and reaches for you. You wince as he cradles the back of your head and draws you close. “It’s our home, we make the rules.”

He bends and kisses your forehead. You gulp as the heavy scent of his cologne strangles you. His fingers curl into your scalp and he hums. He hesitates for just a moment before he pulls back.

You suck your lip in under your teeth and turn away. You’re buzzing from his proximity. The way he crowds you is unnerving. Everything about him is.

You sense him watching you as you tiptoe around the bottom of the staircase and stop to stare at the framed painting of a woman in 19th century garb. She seems familiar as she sits on a stool in flowing ivory and pets a lamb, her stomach swollen with child.

“Like I said, you can change it,” he grits as he comes closer. “Have a look around. Explore. It’s all yours.”

You flinch and bat your eyes at the picture. This is real. You peek over at the duffle bag as the horror rolls up your spine. You don’t think you’re ever going back to your old life. This man won’t let you.

You continue down the hallway next to the stairs if only to get space from him and your looming fear. You turn to look into the den. A long sofa and cushy armchairs, bookcases on either side of the vintage fire stove and a rustic rug across the aged wooden floor. You can’t deny that it’s cozy.

He lurks like a shadow but allows you enough space to make your own way through the place. The kitchen is wrought in walnut and iron. A gas stove, a black fridge, and a dishwasher to boot. The walk-in pantry is stocked to the ceiling. You back out as he leans in the crook of the counter.

“There’s more upstairs, baby.”

You take his subtle directive and retrace your path. The dining room on the other side of the stairs gets only a quick glance before you climb to the next floor. Another hallway with several doors. A bathroom with a clawfoot tub and separate shower booth, a linen closet, and office, and the main bedroom. You stop in the last and stare at the four-postered bed.

You retreat and pass Brock as he stands against the wall, halfway up the stairs. There’s another door but it doesn’t open. You don’t try to get past the lock. You go back to look down at him.

“It’s nice, er... Brock.”

“All for you,” he turns and climbs up patiently.

“I--” your wring your hands, “really?” You look one way then the other, “thanks, but...”

“You shouldn't chew your lip. It’s already chapped.” He grabs your hands and pulls them apart, “stop picking at your nails.”

“Sorry, I--”

“Don’t be. I’ll take care of ya until you take care of yourself,” he brings your hands up between his, grazing his calloused skin over yours. He turns your palms to his and pushes his fingers between yours. His cheek dimples and he guides your hands to his chest. “You’ll be safe here.”

You nod and stay silent. His warmth seep through his shirt into your hands. It adds to the sheen of sweat speckling over your body. That fiery heat of fear, the nip of the inevitable. You still can’t wrap your head around it all but you know deep down, you’re not going back to your boxy apartment.

#brock rumlow #dark brock rumlow #dark!brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #series #drabble #crossbones #no sugar tonight #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 2 years ago

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Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 3,851

You’re stuck on Berk. You get by. (Httyd1)

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse

Next>

You groaned, stumbling back unsteadily as you got up onto your feet. Around you, bodies ran like stones tumbling at the bottom of a river, strangely clothed in leathers and furs, occasionally knocking into one another with the heavy pat of covered meat against metal.

You couldn’t help but to stare. Some of them, the ones that weren’t too busy marching to and fro down the path, stared back.

It was a long moment before you thought to remove your hand, which had been absentmindedly hovering against your sore ass, having been thrown quite suddenly and roughly onto smooth, uneven wooden planking.

“Uh, Hello?” You muttered half to yourself as you looked quickly up and down, continuing to ogle at horned helmets and worn, sewn boots, wrinkling your nose as the strong smell of manure and musk assaulted your senses. You felt, in that moment, as if you had landed in some obscure renfaire full of terribly scented bodybuilders.

Your shoes sounded almost hollowly against the path as you wandered, your limbs feeling quite suddenly weighty, your forehead stuffed with cotton, hobbling through small openings between pale, thick, freckled and scarred shoulders.

You might have called it difficult to weave through the bustling crowd if you hadn’t been so taken with the sight- Houses with tiled rooves in the curved shape, long enough to touch the ground and make the need for side walls moot, racks of weapons of the medieval type, all ball, chain, spike and blade with handles dull enough to be called worn, scratched enough to be called more of a utility than a piece of decor.

The smell of the sea had the hairs of your nose standing on end, tingling as if they were being brushed past, salt startling your sense in the same way another might have been startled if something sour had just been sprinkled on your tongue, muscle and cartilage contracting and pulling.

You ambled, your shoulders pulling in on themselves, your hands growing nearer to your middle.

You stumbled past what looked to be a large set of men carrying what looked like a large pillar of something.

You were knocked back to attention by a gruff shout- at someone, at you, at everyone in the path- You’d almost missed it, even as they swept past you, large chests of hairy-armed men carrying up a huge pillar way above your line of sight, thicker than your middle, enough to crush you twice over.

You wondered if that was safe. If this was a renfaire, that kind of play should definitely have been made illegal.

It took you what was probably much too long to cow and to decide, finally, that now was the time to ask for directions. After a moment, you settled on a woman who seemed generally well-mannered, Minding a set of full crates in a large cart with furrowed brows, still enough for you to catch her attention easily, until the people around you, all fast and carrying heavy loads.

She had red hair tightly pulled into what might have been a bun except its coil was not made out of simply twisted hair but also a set of small, simple braids. Her shoulders were broad, and way above her helmet lay, horns incredibly large and anchoring, the rim of metal around her forehead and above harshly glinting light where her form blocked out all else.

As you approached, you were slightly intimidated by the way she towered over your nervous mold.

“Excuse me,” You started anxiously, “Where am I? Do you know?”

Chapped lips parted.

You stared, quite emptily at that, thoughts absent as if your mind had stalled itself with the expectation that it would soon be filled with cargo, or as if it was an empty cup, sitting prime on a shiny countertop just waiting to be filled.

Her words lacked an immediacy of comprehension that had you, at first, despite the moving of her mouth, you were sure that she had not yet spoken, mouthing things you both heard and did not hear, muddled things which left you waiting for sound to meet your ears, for vowels to form a din you might be able to decipher.

You assumed at first that she had an accent. However, as her tongue rolled over ‘r’s and ‘y’s in a way that seemed abhorrently organized, unfamiliar yet pointed in that way that all people did when deeply entrenched and invested in the preferred method of communication, with a dread that grew heavily in your gut, weighty and slogging, you realized that perhaps your issue lay not in the fact that her words were nonsensical but with the fact that you could not understand them at all.

Berk... You’d found its name out in the night as the hearty seaside village had been suddenly and violently attacked by a loud entourage of angry, fire-breathing reptiles and all of the puzzle pieces you’d unwittingly collected had finally fallen back into place.

You lamented over it as you took unsteady steps forwards, feeling to constant, smooth shifting over weight along your shoulders as if you were being blown along the wind. Beneath hewn, knotted fabrics and fur, your muscles strained. It was only a small load and yet it’d still given you some trouble.

Your arrival and integration had been somewhat seamless. There were so many people on Berk that it hadn’t been hard to blend in, not after the initial confusion, especially not after you’d lost your odd garb, all semi-bright and too-evenly-dark colors and modern textile.

Tickling along your arms dispute the fact that you knew it had never once touched there. It was nearly unbearable- you dropped your load, a smooth-to-the-touch set of newly repaired wooden oars.

The long handles settled with a thick wooden clatter against the ribbed tile set along one of the many strong house walls lining the wood pathway.

You brushed the bottom hem of your tunic, shaking your shoulders out in a way that was both purposeful and compulsive, your muscles twinging as if you’d just been shivering.

Your palms brushed flat against scratchy cloth as you grunted, brows furrowing so deeply you could feel them, frustrated as you struggled to clear away invisible dust. You knew, objectively, that nothing was there, however you couldn’t help but to feel it, having walked through a very wide spider web, phantom strings tickling along your nerves.

After landing, you had, of course, spent some time panicking as the lines between what you thought had been fiction and reality had blended together. It was hard, though, to concentrate on much else besides the dragons when your life was in mortal danger.

After a short run in with homelessness, a couple living by the grazing fields had been kind enough to take you into their stables. You’d been fed and clothed and eventually, you had been taught their language. You’d been helped along just enough to get your sea legs, to become steady enough to pay them back in kind. In effect, you were their live-in maid, but you supposed things could have been worse, so you were quite fine with that.

You huffed.

You thought you would have been less irritated if you could have just worn a pair of trousers. The feeling would be gone if you’d been able to take the offending article off- it would have never been there in the first place, or, well, you didn’t think it would have lasted so long had the tickling edges of heavy fabric hadn’t been teasing the place just above your knees. It was an idea that often left your generous hosts disgruntled, but they weren’t your parents.

The act of skirt-wearing was mostly performative, at least from what you’d gathered, given that most of the women on this island wore pants underneath and heavy layers of wrappings and furs throughout.

You scuffed your boots against the wooden pathways, aching arms twinging. It was an abhorrently empty day, cold and misty, hard to see through as the bulk of the village off in their huts or in the hall. It was just as well, too- there was no one around to witness your misery.

Initially appreciative, you’d taken to your new, schoolless life with gusto. You had more pressing things to worry about, after all, like not dying.

Unfortunately, you weren’t very good at any of the jobs you tried. You couldn’t fight, as you discovered after many days spent being smacked onto your ass with a wooden sword, but you were a decent delivery girl and an alright shepherd, shiphand and maid.

It was all enough to keep your head barely above water. It was a lot harder than you’d thought it would be, living on Berk. You did a lot for very little, but that’s just the way life was there, it seemed.

You thought you might be able to handle it if it wasn’t for one thing… Or maybe two.

When your hands grew restless, when your eyes drooped, or even worse yet, when you were wide awake and bored as you often were, when there was nothing to do but think about doing, you thought about home. And, very quickly thereafter, after you’d gotten over the ‘missing’s and the ‘aching’s, there came the pressing realization that, if you’d ever gotten home, you were already part way through the school year. The thought of having to do it all over again gave you the hives. And the worst thing about it all?

There was no internet. It was awfully boring with no internet.

Shaking yourself free from your mourning, you stretched your arms high into the air, feeling the light, satisfying pulling of muscles, a high-pitched, nearly-squealed groan leaving your mouth from a place high in your throat.

As you relaxed, blinking wearily, drowsily, you admired the darkening sky, feeling a light chill run down your back.

There was always the question of what to do moving forwards.

Through all of your mis and fortune, after a long time spent deliberating, by which you meant not much time at all, you settled into the unwavering decision to mind your own business.

The plot would continue on as it should and, well, you didn’t want to mess with it any, did you?

With an absent hand and now only slightly protesting shoulders, you tipped the oars over from where they were leaning, trying to leverage them back onto your shoulder, eyeing the deserted path forwards. It wouldn't do to linger, especially this late.

You heard the occasional clatter and the pound of something which told you that you must not have been the only person in the area. You couldn’t make out much though, not even a single bend.

The path forwards was unclear, the mist and fog having only gotten thicker since the last time you’d looked it over. It was nearly ominous. You weren’t afraid, yet… It felt like the kind of thing that needed to be broken.

“Hopefully there’s some stew left at home,” You hummed, wobbling unsteadily forward, nearly losing your balance along the way.

You shook your head, not at all minding your way.

It hit you suddenly, roughly- you wheezed pitifully as something slammed into your whole upper body and knocked against your forehead, hitting you with such a violence that you felt as if you were a large bell that had been roughly rung.

You stumbled back, startled, the slightly loose toe of your boot catching against wood grain, the long poles slipping from your hands, burning the sensitive skin of your palms.

In that moment, you only registered one thing- what ran into was alive and very gawkily boy-shaped.

Treaded leather scraped against your ankles through fabric in what must have been a misguided effort to brake as the both of you fell messily to the floor.

Thin wood clattering against wood, though all you could really focus on was the way your knees stuck as they scraped against wood and the way grain felt against your palms as you struggled to get up.

“Sorry,” The boy said tersely, clumsily as he attempted to gather his effects, a worn old journal and a long charcoal stick.

You just rubbed at your head, squinting dazedly as you felt something slightly wet well against one part of your hand where you’d borne the brunt of your fall, pressing it against your skirt as you ogled.

“It’s, uh, It’s fine,” You stuttered weakly as the boy tore off, waving your hands out in front of you, pushing back up onto your feet.

Jerk.

You didn’t know it until later, but that was your first meeting with Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.

You squeaked making a noise like a strangled animal as the top of your head slammed into something heavy and wooden.

Your fingers were dusty where they’d just grazed over dirt, slightly black where charcoal had rubbed off into your fingerprints. Your eyes were closed tight, fingers clenching around a thin block of leather and dappled paper, said piece of charcoal lodged in the space between palm and book spine.

“Here,” You said, after you’d gathered your bearings, feeling a smidgen embarrassed, “Found it sitting on one of the boulders… by the bridge. The, uh, the rock in front of the…”

The rock by the cliffs, slightly sandy, where the wind blew the strongest and the smell of the sea was thick. The rock by the docks.

You weren’t sure whether or not to feel proud of your rhyme. You thought you might settle on ‘awkward.’

After a long period of silence, staring into startled green eyes, you decided that not saying it would be a measure better than saying it. You still felt quite clever for thinking it up, though.

You slipped the notebook over the counter quietly, unable to really hear the sound of leather sliding against wood over the sound of men making merry and working in the back, shouting to and fro.

You peered up over the Forge counter from where you’d, again, slipped.

You pointedly ignored your head as the ache still rang, the feeling spreading over itself like thick honey.

In front of you was one Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, whose eyes were still wide.

His shoulders were clearly visible, missing his usual brown coat, or, well, the coat you assumed he always wore- it’d been prevalent enough on screen, anyhow- and very, a-little-bit loose. His hands were on the counter before him, his fingers dancing lightly along the edge, the middles of his palms anchored to the ledge, the one opposite to the side you’d jostled just a moment before. His mouth pursed so that no lip was visible, all hidden behind a stiff line.

You shifted, feeling slightly chilled as if it was much darker than it was, feeling as if you could feel the smell dew and the sound of crickets instead of the weight of a dandy morning sun across your back, and as if instead of staring into the face of a boy, you were looking right at the stiff body of something nearly roadkill, frozen in the icy night -a deer, perhaps.

In the silence, the one between the two of you, that didn’t include any of the bumbling, heavy-shouldered clattering coming from the back of the forge or the disjointed, clumsy, distracted humming of a rough voice in the back, you felt something grow stiffly in your gut, an unsurety that grew stronger the longer you waited.

“It is yours, right?” You hesitated, knowing that if you didn’t break the silence, the spell- something else would have broken it for you, and you’d rather it not be whoever was shifting around in the back.

“I saw some of the drawings in it,” A blueprint of something with a lot of knives, some chicken scratch, what looked like a cannon, “They were nice.”

“I- I well, ah-” The boy startled again, shoulder jumping hastily.

“I didn’t mean to look,” You corrected hastily, not quite sure what to do with your hands- should you point, or scratch your neck or brush down your skirts or hold them at your waist? You settled for nothing and all of them, hand hovering in between motions, jerking- “But it was open, and no one was around, and I thought I ought to return it.”

He shut his mouth very quickly.

You waited for him once again, the silence now his to break.

You could feel your eyes darting around though you felt frozen in a much similar manner. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary- you had to wonder, then, if there was something wrong with you? Was that why he wasn’t speaking?

You knew you still had an accent. You were a little self conscious about it.

“...Thanks.” The boy -Hiccup- said awkwardly, after a while. He looked constipated. Maybe he was.

Your beating heart felt as if it had stopped at that moment. You acted quickly.

“Well, okay. Bye,” You said as you got up, brushing the dust off your knees. You wore a skirt today.

You moved quickly, too fast to be called walking yet not fast enough to be called a run or a jog, your strides still pulled too close together to bring you over any real distance.

You couldn't help but to look at him oddly as you left, making a beeline across the clearing. Even as you turned your back, you kept an eye back on the forge counter. It was an awkward position to hold for sure, yet you couldn’t break your eyes away, a little confused by the whole encounter.

Hopefully you’d be able to find cover in the crowds- if you didn’t run into anyone first. You nearly did, checking shoulders with the corner of a crate, the place point met skin stinging, the eyes of the lady holding it nearly more so.

You regretted picking up the journal. It probably would have been fine left well enough alone.

You’d never been the most observant.

But Hiccup… He was kind of weird.

You caught him staring a lot. Many times, many places. It was very convenient, to the point where you thought he might’ve been orchestrating it.

You brushed it off, however. You’d barely shared more than a few words, after all, so why would he?

Once you put your mind to it, it was very easy to ignore.

The grasses here were long and damp, enough to nearly soak through your leggings and to tickle skin through tough fabric. It shifted gently around your waist and ankles as draconic wings beat above, sending gusts of wind down your way.

You stood still at the base of a hill, both your hands gripping at the thin metal hand of a pail of water, sore fingers aching protesting loudly as it dug into your joints and sent tremors up your arms.

Your pail knocked at the place just below your knees with one bottom edge. Hanging from the side, also dampening the longer end of your skirt, were two sopping wet rags of a muddy color.

You were sure the dirt by your feet had turned to mud by now, slick and grainy as the offending bucket dripped water down into it and around your feet, causing your soles to sink slightly into the ground and for you to feel ever so slightly more unsteady, as if you might slip even though you hadn’t moved a muscle for a short while.

The wind billowed your sleeves and made you feel hollow and bare, dancing its way up then and down your shirt, brushing past skin. You frowned, though not with displeasure. Not as you stared up at the Chief's house, standing large and proud, decorated with dull color and many carved patterns.

You stumbled across this moment by accident, watching as Vikings crowded around Hiccup enthusiastically, giving him their congratulations as he steadied himself on his new leg

It strung something familiar in you. Animated shapes and tawny shading, pink sunsets and a small, ugly portrait scratched into dirt, a nice, blue say and something brave said, a shocking thing and a new leg- you remembered this bit from the end of the first movie.

If you recalled it correctly, Astrid was supposed to punch Hiccup in the shoulder… Then they were supposed to kiss.

You had to squint, bobbing your head to the side slightly, your nose wrinkled. You felt something- it was a small thing, a spark of delight crackling through a point in your chest as you caught a glimpse of straw hair then the whole head, both very yellow and sort of tame, a patchwork of blondes streaking down her scalp in a way that reflected light in a special way when she stood clearly in the sun.

You kept watching even as the strongly blowing wind made your eyes feel slightly dry, doing your best to keep them open until you couldn’t. Then you felt a tad ruffled as they were forced to flutter.

There it was- You waited as she walked up to him, shoulder rearing back, dull metal shoulderguard folding back, the flattest part of her fist knocking into Hiccup’s shoulder.

You grinned as he reeled back, rubbing his arm.

You couldn’t make out any real details, too far away to make out any hard details, mouths blurry and eyebrows impossible to see, but you could tell who was who- you could make out the way Astrid leaned forwards, the way people shifted, but then- something weird happened, then.

Your smile flagged slightly.

You found that instead of looking at her, you and Hiccup met eyes.

The other Vikings are too occupied with each other to notice, you thought.

You couldn’t help but to feel a little confused. Bewildered- astonished.

You considered him, stiff shoulders under his fur coat and tunic, as if under trance, feeling both transparent and unknowing.

The moment -nearly a trace- was broken but a second later as Hiccup stumbled forwards, the large hand of the Chief having roughly clapped him over the back, forcing him to stumble forwards. You couldn’t see anyone anymore- not anyone important, but, well, that didn’t matter.

You followed his example soon after -the attention-breaking one, that is- sighing and turning to look down over the rest of Berk.

You were careful not to trip. You usually did, coming along this slope. You should get going- you had to. You still had chores to do. You still had laundry.

You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. It would have been cool to be a part of something so monumental- something interesting enough to be shown on screen, even if you were just a part of the background. It couldn’t be helped.

Whether or not Hiccup got a kiss wasn’t important and in the end it had nothing to do with you.

You were just thankful that the raids were over

By the time he looked back down, you were gone.

#how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #reader insert #httyd #x reader #my writing #fem reader #female reader

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cherrycola27 · 2 years ago

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afterglow

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol and drinking. Military inaccuracies. Allusions to and eventual smut. Friends to lovers. Mutual pining. Unrequited love. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part

...........................................

Chapter 7: The AfterGlow

Jake felt his heart drop. This couldn't be happening, not today, of all days.

He grabbed his wallet and threw a wad of cash, much more than the cost of his drink and a healthy tip, on the table before grabbing his jacket and bolting out of the restaurant.

Jake isn't sure how many traffic laws he broke to get to the hospital as fast as possible. He also didn't care about his asshole parking job and taking up three spaces when he flew into the parking lot.

All he cared about was getting to you.

He ran into the emergency entrance and straight up to the desk.

"Hello, I'm Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin. I got a call saying my girlfriend Y/N Briller was in an accident." Jake's voice wavered as he spoke to the woman at the reception desk.

He watched her type a few things in her computer. He saw a flash of worry across her eyes before she looked up at him.

"Mr. Seresin, if you could please have a seat, the doctor will be out here in a moment to speak to you." The woman told him.

"Can you at least tell me if she is okay? Do you know what happened?" Jake pressed her for answers.

"I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to wait for Dr. Perez. Please, have a seat and stay calm." She told him.

"Stay calm? How am I supposed to stay calm when I don't know anything? What would you do if you were in my shoes?" Jake practically screams.

"Sir, if you don't have a seat, I will be forced to call security and have you escorted out. Please. Sit down." The receptionist tells him sternly.

Jake takes a deep breath and apologizes to her before taking a seat in the far corner.

Jake waits for what seems like hours. Every so often, he glances towards the nurses station, hoping for an update, but all he sees are them gathered in a corner with solemn looks on their faces as they whisper and look at him.

After what feels like an eternity, a nurse comes to get him.

"Mr. Seresin, could you please come with me?" She whispers to him.

Jake looks at her. She won't meet his eyes. He feels the pit in his stomach grow bigger.

Jake is led through a set of heavy doors and down a few corridors. He thinks that the nurse is taking him to the ICU or something, but his heart drops when he realizes that he is outside an office.

The nurse gently taps her knuckles on the heavy wooden door before a voice tells them to come in.

Jake enters and finds a man waiting for him.

"You must be Lieutenant Commander Seresin. I'm Dr. Perez. We spoke on the phone. Please have a seat." Dr. Perez says. Jake plants his feet and doesn't move.

"No, thank you." Jake says as his jaw clenched and his eyes stayed straight ahead.

"Mr. Seresin. Please." Dr. Perez asks. Jake relents and moves to sit in one of the leather chairs.

Dr. Perez takes a seat across from him and takes a deep breath.

"Ms. Briller was brought in via ambulance a few hours ago. According to the police and the 911 call, it appears that she was a victim of a high-speed hit and run. She was going through an intersection, and a truck blew right past the red light, t-boning her vehicle and causing it to flip." Dr. Perez began to explain.

"She was brought in with multiple internal and external injuries. We took her into surgery immediately—" Dr. Perez trailed off.

"We did everything we could. But— I'm so sorry, Mr. Seresin. We couldn't save her." He finished.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jake felt his heart crack into a million little pieces. He felt the joy and the light inside of him die.

"No. No, no, no, no!" Jake screamed at Dr. Perez, as hot tears flowed down his face. "No, you're wrong! She can't be gone!" Jake yelled as sobs racked his body.

He slumped off the couch to his knees and wailed. "Mr. Seresin, is there anyone we can call for you?" Dr. Perez asked him. He went to place a hand on Jake's shoulder, but Jake pushed him away.

"Where is she? I have to see her. She's not gone. Please tell me this is some cruel, sick joke!" Jake cried out.

Dr. Perez looked at him sympatheticly. "I'm sorry, but it's true." He said, trying to provide the slightest bit of comfort.

Jake felt sick to his stomach. The world was spinning, and he couldn't get enough air in his lungs. His chest was tight, and he couldn't breathe. His palms were sweating, and his face was clammy.

"Mr. Seresin? Are you okay?" Dr. Perez rushed to his side.

Jake was dizzy as he grabbed onto the man's shoulder to steady himself and struggled for breath. His ears were ringing, and he vaguely heard Dr. Perez page for assistance.

The last thing Jake sees before he blacks out is a nurse shoving a needle in his arm.

............

Jake slowly faded back to consciousness. His eyes cracked open, and it only took him a few moments to adjust and realize where he was. He tried to shoot up out of bed, but a firm hand held him in place.

He looked up to see Maverick standing over him.

"Mav? What are you— did they tell you—" Jake trailed off before his emotions overcame him.

"Yeah, Kid. The hospital called me because I'm listed as yours and Glow's commanding officer. Dr. Perez said they had to sedate you because you were having a panic attack. Jake, I'm so sorry. I know she was so much more than a WSO and a friend to you. I know you loved her." Maverick tried to comfort him as a few tears of his own came up.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. A car accident? We fly fighter jets for crying out loud, and a hit and run takes her out? It's not fair. It's my fault, Pete. It's my fault." Jake sobbed.

"How is it your fault?" Maverick asked as he pulled up a chair next to the younger man.

"I told her I had to leave to get something before dinner tonight. I was going to come back and pick her up, but she said she would be fine. I never let her drive. She's always the passenger. If I had just told her no, if I had just stayed, none of this would have happened. All she ever wanted me to do was stay. And I had been. I'd been doing so much better, and then I didn't stay, and now she's gone! It's all my fault!" Jake cried.

Maverick rubbed comforting circles on his back.

"It's not your fault, Jake. None of us could have predicted this. I know it doesn't make it hurt any less, but Y/N left this world knowing that she loved you and that you loved her." Maverick told him.

"Let's get you home, Kid. I've already contacted her family. They will be here tomorrow. The funeral is on Sunday." Maverick told him as he helped Jake get his things and leave the hospital.

When they exited the hospital, Jake noticed that Bradley was leaning against his truck in the parking lot. "I asked Bradley to come with me to bring you home. You don't need to be driving when you are upset." Mav said.

Jake didn't even argue. He just handed over his keys and climbed in.

The ride back to his house was silent. Rooster wanted to tell him how sorry he was, but what do you say to someone who just lost the love of their life?

When they arrived back at your, well, now Jake's house, Bradley asked Jake if he wanted him to stay. Jake shook his head no.

The next day, Jake went through your things and began packing up your belongings for your family. Your mom had called him and told him to keep anything of yours he wanted. He settled for a few of your shirts, your bottle of perfume, lots of pictures, your favorite coffee mug, and your dogtags. He looped them over his neck along with his.

Then, he readied his dress blues for your funeral tomorrow. He worked hard to make sure each one of his pins and medals were perfect. Especially the ones the two of you had earned together.

Standing at attention during your funeral was the hardest thing Jake Seresin had ever had to do in his life.

He was numb as he pounded his wings into your casket and saluted your photo. He felt himself break into a million pieces as he handed your mother the folded up flag.

As taps played and rifles went off and jets flew overhead, Jake felt himself slipping, and he could no longer hold the emotion back. Rooster, Coyote, and Bob helped hold him until your service was over.

After the funeral, your parents came up to Jake. He told them how sorry he was for their loss. Your mother looked at him and said, "We're sorry too. She was just as important to you as she was to us." Jake thanked her. Your mother then took his face in her hands and said, "God, she loved flying with you, Jake."

"I loved flying with her too, Ma'am." He responded.

"I thought that the next time we met in person, it would be under different circumstances. She loved you so much." Your mother told him.

"I know. I loved her, too." Jake said before hugging your mother and shaking your fathers hand.

Sometime later, he joined the rest of the squad at the Hard Deck for a final farewell in your honor. He wandered away from the crowd and down to the sand with a bottle of your favorite beer in his hand.

Jake sat down, not caring about his uniform, and watched the sunset. The sky was painted in beautiful colors. You would have loved it. You'd always told him that when you died, he could find you in the sunsets. God, he hoped that was true.

He set his drink down and pulled off the chain that now held both of your dog tags.

He grabbed one of each of yours before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the small box he was supposed to give you three nights ago.

He opened it and pulled out the pink diamond ring he'd had custom-made for you. The center stone was bright pink, with a halo of white and purple stones. It mimicked the colors of the evening sky that you were so fond of. It would have looked so beautiful on your hand when he placed it there as his physical promise of forever.

He took the ring out of the box before looping it on a chain with the dogtags that read both of your names.

He brought yours to his lips and kissed it before tossing all three objects into the ocean.

As he stood there watching the final rays of pink and purple and orange light fade into darkness, Jake Seresin realized that he could divide his life into three specific sections.

There was before Glow, and there was during Glow.

But he never thought that there would be a time after Glow.

Babes! Thank you for showing this series so much love. I hope you don't come at me with pitchforks for this one

Taglist: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @potato-girl99981 @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @olliepig @seresinsweetie @linkpk88 @my-obsession-spn @eternalsams @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @stargazer-88 @clancycucumber230

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #tgm #hangman smut #hangman seresin #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin #lt. jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #tgm smut #top gun 2 #afterglow

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jillsandwhichs · 3 months ago

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Valenfield OneShots/AUs Collection, Chapter 22, the A night full of love

Masterlist

Pairing: Chris Redfield & Jill Valentine

Summary: After Chris & Jill come home from a mission, their time spent together turns into something much more... Loving

Status of their relationship in this one shot: Engaged

WC: 2.8k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Smut — Making out, Dirty talk, Oral sex, Missionary, Unprotected P in V, Minor praising & cum kink

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Bustling through the doorway, both Chris and Jill walked through it. Chris switched the entry light on, the entire area brightening up as he did.

Chris & Jill are back from their night on the town. Rarely are they able to take time out of their lives for dates-finally they were able to tonight. They went out to a restaurant, ate a delicious dinner and are now a little bit tipsy, but not to the point they're drunk. Both of them still feel sober, as a matter of fact. Despite that though, they did take a Taxi home just to be careful.

Jill made her way to their kitchen, setting her small, black purse down onto the wooden, polished counter. Chris did the exact same but with his wallet, tossing it beside her satchel. They spoke the entire car ride home so now it feels like there is absolutely nothing else to discuss. When you're an engaged couple who have been together for a long time, you'll eventually run out of topics to speak of. Chris and Jill don't mind though, that just means they've spent these last couple years well.

Turning the living room light on, Jill grunted softly as she sat down on the couch, sprawling her legs out all over the piece of furniture. Still standing in the entrance area, Chris chuckled as he watched Jill do that-she's absolutely adorable. "Still with me baby?" "Yes, I am just exhausted." Jill giggled. "That is to be expected, we spent the entire night out." Chris responded with a laugh. Seeing Jill this way was rather cute.

Taking his brown, leather jacket off, Chris hung it up on the coat rack and took his shoes off by the doorway. Jill did none of that, she is still wearing not only her jacket but also her heels-she didn't seem to care though. Chris ambled over to where she was lying down. He lifted her legs up, then sat down, laying them across his lap. She was wearing a baby blue, soft fabricated tight dress, it looked amazing on her.

Her heels however are a pearly white color, Chris picked them out for her-pearly white is one of her colors. Chris could tell she was tired, or at least just sick of all the walking they had to do. At least they're home now and she doesn't have to walk anymore, hell, Chris will carry her if he has too. Gazing over at her, Jill's eyes were closed as if she were trying to fall into a beauty sleep. Chris won't let her though, if she wants to sleep, it should be in their shared bed.

"Sweetheart?" "Mmm?" Jill mumbled, her eyes slightly opening as she focused on him. "Sleepy?" "Sort of... I think the wine and beer is getting to me, actually." She laughed, Chris along with her. Taking his hands to her feet, Chris removed the first heel, then rubbing her foot gently as he took off the other one, carefully placing them down onto the hardwood flooring. "Thank you." "You're welcome baby." Chris hummed, her feet in his hands as he caressed them. Jill just lied there, staring at him in awe.

Stunning—Jill is. Chris could look at her for hours, days, weeks, months and years, even centuries. To him, she's the most beautiful woman in the entire Universe. Everything about her is bewitching. Til this day, he questions how he managed to get her as his.

As he rubbed her feet, he gazed at Jill as she sat up, scooching towards him. As she did, her legs went further across his lap til she was beside him. "I love you." Jill sighed softly, placing her hand on his cheek as she turned his face to be directly in front of hers. "I love you Jill." Chris replied with a soft, loving tone, bringing his lips to her and pressing them sweetly against hers.

A whimper came from Jill as she felt Chris's tongue swipe across her lower lip. Anytime they kiss, it turns passionate real quick. Neither of them can help it, really.

Opening her mouth so he could have entry way, Chris slide his tongue into her mouth, exploring it ASAP. His hand trailed up her legs til it reached her plump thighs-he kept it resting there. "Mmph." Jill moaned, her wet tongue intertwining with his and yet, her tonuge wasn't the only thing getting increasingly wet. The more Chris's hand treaded towards her cunt, the more it yearned for him and his touch, she needed it.

"Chris." Jill whined, wrapped her arms around his neck slightly as she pulled him into a deeper kiss, nearly causing him to topple onto her, but he still remained in his seating position. "What hun?" Chris asked between their enticing kisses. She gave him the look, her blue eyes studying his. With that look, Chris slide his hand further up til it reached underneath her dress, his other hand pushed onto the couch they were both sitting on.

"Touch me." Jill whispered, laying all the way back til her head was lying against the arm of the couch. Chris chuckled and nodded, he loves when she gets like this, all submissive and needy. "Anything you want, my love." Chris pulled back, grabbed her and picking her up, a shriek coming from her. "Couch sex is so hot though." "I'd like to have more room if I'm gonna eat you out." Chris snickered-Jill just blushed in response in which, Chris caught onto.

Entering their bedroom, Chris shut the door behind them with his foot. He traversed to the bed, setting Jill down on it. After that, he teared his button up off, throwing it off of his body. For now, Jill kept her dress on. "Lay back." Chris grunted as he climbed up onto the bed-she listened, resting her head against the silky pillows they had aligned on their already made bed. Chris got into position, he was longing to taste her, per usual.

Chris's head inched it's way between her thighs, the aroma of her wet pussy already drifting in the air. Chris inhaled her scent, his hormones getting out of hand. "You're amazing." Chris muttered out to her as he began to kiss along her pale thighs. Jill expired calmly, just enjoying the way Chris touched and kissed her. Each peck made her more horny, more aroused and more in need for him. "So are you." Jill whispered to him. The life-changing feeling of his head between her thighs made it hard to form sentences.

Switching to her other thigh, Chris kissed along it as well, not missing a single spot. He knows what he's doing-they've made love so many times by now, he's a professional. Jill kept her hands at her sides, her fingers tips passed her thighs, but she didn't touch or grab onto Chris-yet. As he reached the top of her thigh, Chris swiftly weaved his head towards her center, his face in front of it. He took his hands up to the strap of her panties, pulling them down with a hastey pull.

Hitting her ankles, Jill tittered as she practically kicked her undergarments off-her panties landed on the edge of their bed. "In a rush, are we?" "A little bit." She joked, Chris chortled, kissing her thigh once more before immediately shoving his face into her cunt, suckling on it-that earned a loud moan out of Jill.

"Oh fuck!" Jill vocalized. Her head shot back, her sharp jawline becoming even more defined as she did. Chris felt proud of himself-being able to make Jill yell like that was awesome. His tongue swiped through her folds, lightly teasing her clit each time it did. The smell of her pussy was intoxicating, only furthing Chris's need & want to devour her-to ravish her. He flicked his tongue on her clit repeatedly, each flick bringing her closer and closer to her orgasm.

Chris's dark eyes lingered on her face. He doesn't think Jill realized it but, his eyes were on hers the entire time. Occasionally, he'd close them, just wanting to savour her taste and scent but other than that, his eyes were locked on her, her body and her face. The way she loses herself as he eats her out is more than sexy-it is beyond any word that could describe it.

Arms wrapping around her thighs, Chris adjusted himself, his position. He began to ravenously eat her, his tongue slurping her up. Her juices tracted into his mouth, he was loving this. "Oh Chris, it feels so good." Jill hummed. Her fingers playing with his brunette hair. The way her fingers twiddled through his hair made him feel warm inside. "Mmm." He grumbled, eating her out continuously like his fucking life depended on it.

With each stroke of his tongue, Jill could feel her stomach tightening. His tongue was relentless, Chris is relentless. He'll do anything to bring her closer to her breaking point. Gazing at Jill, Chris could feel pre-cum seeping out of his cock as he watched her face contort. She was on edge, just from his mouth-his magical tongue too. His fingers dug into her thighs as he closed his eyes, absolutely determined to make her cum on his face.

Now just focusing on her clit, his laps quickened. Lust overtook Chris, just as it always does when it comes to Jill. Just looking at her can turn him on quicker than he'd like to admit. The erotic noises coming from not only Chris's mouth, but Jill's wet core were lewd, to the max. "I'm gonna cum handsome." Jill whined, dropping her hands from his hair and back onto the plushy bed. This was it-for them both.

"Cum for me then." Chris cooed to his fiancee, licking from the bottom and all the way to the top, til he hit her upper clit and unsurprisingly, this was her undoing.

Jill stammered her words out as she came, her legs shaking uncontrollably and her mouth agape as she came on his face. Chris simply kissed her clit as she hit her peak, not wanting to overstim her-especially after recalling what happened last time he overstimulated her. Chris watched her cum, nearly getting off on the sight of it. "There you go princess." Chris chuckled, wiping his mouth. "That was perfect, as always." Jill giggled, now her eyes headed towards his crotch area, hinting at what exactly it was she so desired.

Chris, already being one step ahead of her, had his hands fiddling with his leather belt. He was urgent to get it off so he could just fuck her already. "Should I?" Jill didn't completely finish her sentence but instead used her body to reference what she meant-that was if she should or should not take off her dress. Chris nodded his head no. He found the dress attractive, it looks gorgeous on her. Her wearing that as he rearranges her guts will enhance the feeling if anything.

He dropped his belt onto the floor, then pulled his pants all the way off along with his boxers-he was now completely nude. Jill couldn't help but blush. Despite their Wedding being very soon and the fact they've been together for a while, she still gets shy and excited seeing him naked. Chris laughed at her reaction. "Mmm, you're cute." Chris crawled back onto the bed and on top of her, pinning her beneath him firmly. Jill only bellowed in reply.

"We don't have any condoms sweetheart." Chris mumbled, kissing her cheeks and moving down to her neck. "We don't?" "Mhm." He hummed out, saying no. "Then just pull out, okay?" Jill stated. "I will baby." Chris responded, reassuring her. Jill was terrified of getting pregnant before marriage. Sex before marriage, fine, pregnancy before marriage, that's a no-go.

Propping one of Jill's legs onto his shoulder, Chris grabbed his dick and slide it into her, wasting no time. If a man waits too long, they won't be as hard, or not at all. She inhaled sharply at the sudden feeling-it so so much different from his tongue probing down there. The sensation is wonderful, both are. "I'll never get over how tight you get." Chris laughed. One hand was beside her side, the other holding onto her thigh-the one that is raised into the warm air.

Gently, Chris began to slip and slide in and out of her. His tip would look and feel as though it was about to drop out of her, but that would be right when Chris would push back into her, all the way til he couldn't move inside of her deeper. "Oh... So good..." Jill breathed out shakily, her hands holding onto the bedsheet she was being fucked against. "Yeah." Chris groaned, his head tilting back as he picked up his pace very slightly. He never goes to fast nor hard in the beginning.

Jill was so tight. It felt like her pussy was going to squeeze the semen out of him at any second. It just goes to show how turned on she gets by him. She was also extremely wet. Each time Chris thrusted into her, his cock would be shinier from her fluids. For Jill however, Chris's member going inside of her felt amazing, just as it should. Penetration doesn't usually get a woman off, most of the time-however, Chris manages to do it to her just about every time.

"Does it feel good?" Jill questioned Chris. Deep down, she's somewhat insecure and worries about if whether or not it feels as good for him as it does for her. "Does it feel good?" Chris quoted her with a scoff, "Honey, it feels fucking fantastic." He began to pound into her at a faster pace and with harder movements. "Oh, yes, like that." Jill instantly forgot about her worries, becoming blinded by pleasure. "Good girl." Chris praised her, patting her thigh as he did.

As his pumps roughened up, his movements became more sloppy. Each pound made Chris feel like he was getting closer to his orgasm. He had to be extra careful, he can't cum inside of Jill. "You like that baby?" Chris brought his head to the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent and kissing behind her small ear. "Mhm." She murmured, "Harder." She begged, wrapping her arms around his neck and dropping her leg from his shoulder. Chris chuckled and nodded-what she asks for, she shall receive.

Pinning her legs down, his arms holding them, Chris began to thrust into her as hard as he could. "Oh fuck, just like that." Jill stuttered out, her face contorting like crazy against his neck. Chris could feel his stomach doing flips deep inside, he could feel everything. Jill's walls clenched around him, which caused him to finish, but before he could inside of her, he pulled out. Chris pumped himself as he finished on her pulsating pussy. Jill looked down as he did, admiring the sight-she felt even more exhausted now.

Once he was completely finished, he snickered before falling on his side. He panted loudly, catching his breath after their intense love making. Jill grabbed a couple tissues from the night stand, wiping herself off and tossing the pieces of tissue into the trashcan from their bed. She also pulled her dress all the way back down whereas Chris on the other hand stayed naked, feeling totally unmotivated to change back into some sleep wear.

Grabbing their comforter from the end of their bed, Chris pulled it over the both of them.

"Come here." He whispered, grabbing Jill and holding her in his arms. Jill rested her head against his chest-his rapid heartbeat was slowly yet surely decreasing. "That was great baby." "I know." Jill giggled, tracing her fingers through his abs. "You're amazing." He added on. Jill glanced up at him, her hair messy and her makeup smudged-yet she still managed to be the most perfect girl ever. Jill placed a kiss on his lips, her eyes closing whilst she did. Chris rubbed his hand up and down her back, revealing in the passionate smooch.

"I love you baby." "I love you too Jill." Chris mumbled.

The two of them fell into a deep sleep-love making will do that to you.

#tumblr fyp #resident evil #jill valentine #chris redfield #valenfield #valenfield fanfiction #valenfield fanfic #daily valenfield #valenfield otp #romance #smut #valenfield smut

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st4rbe0m · 10 months ago

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SUMMARY ▸ 20 years ago, a gruesome murder shook the town hard. A type of murder that should've never happen, much less in their quaint town. A lovely family killed in cold blood with an unforgiving axe wielding maniac - a mother, a father and a little girl. It's been 20 years down the road, hasn't it? Then why are these 11 teenagers stuck in a loop of the same day, being haunted by a little girl who died 20 years ago?

PAIRING ▸ Park Jongseong (Jay) x reader ; additional pairings between characters as well , multi chapter story

TAG LIST ▸ open!! send an ask to be added

WC ▸ 0.4K

WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE THE BODY SEARCH ?

▊ yes -> CHAPTER 1

▊ no -> masterlist

TEASER TRAILER

Sunoo’s panting hard, and his lungs prickle with the burn of exhaustion, as the adrenaline gives away. He’s running and he’s been running for a while now. He lost Sunghoon a while back - the red smears at the bottom of the staircase led him to believe so. The low visibility isn’t really helping either. He can’t tell where the little girl is either, or where Riki or Jungwon disappeared off to. Run. Running. That’s all he can think of right now.

He reached the shoe rack, the little white cubicles creating a mosaic in front of him. The burn in his lungs has only intensified. “This is a good place to hide”, he thought to himself.

“Hyung!”

Sunoo jumps violently, organs violently lurching inside him. Still no sound of small feet, only Riki, glad to have found his friend in one piece still. That’s usually rare given their circumstances. Riki quickly sprints to where Sunoo has crouched, a little wooden cubby meant for storing the smaller sports equipment. Riki’s hands are desperate as they grab on to Sunoo - being alive meant something much more important right now. Riki, the youngest of their group, the playful, teasing master has little dew drops of tears shining under the moonlight which struck Sunoo right through the heart in a pang of despair.

But despair, or any emotion was cut short.

Pit, pat. Little red feet. Run. Hide.

Their eyes grow wide simultaneously. Pulling Riki closer by the arm, Sunoo prays with whatever finality he can muster. She must be getting closer, and it’s all he can do right now. Because no matter where they hid, she’d find them. Sniffing out their fear maybe - the thundering hearts and the tremors that shook in their bones.

It’s dead quiet now, and it makes Sunoo’s ears ring slightly. Everything held a bit of horror in it, including the quiet.

“Where did she go?” Sunoo barely mustered up a whisper.

“Do you think she left?”, answered Riki, in an equally low baritone sound, hoping for it to get concealed with the wind, lest they get discovered.

“We should head to the chape-”

He looks up to the source of the mysterious liquid dripping on to his head - only to lock eyes with Riki’s lifeless ones.

There’s a crash. That’s all that Sunoo registers. The speed and the totality of it was far too much for him to realize the rest. All he knows right now is that she’s here, there was a sound, and the space where Riki was is empty now.

There’s something dripping on his head. Where’s Riki? Where’s the Little Red Girl? Where’s Riki? Where’s the Little Red Girl?

TAG LIST - open

#🔍 mine #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #enhypen au #enhypen #kim sunoo #park jay x reader #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #sim jake #lee heesung x reader #lee heesung #nishimura riki #yang jungwon

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 11 months ago

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A Domestic Dinner Date (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Part of the "Purchase Your Time" Universe

Summary: You both eager and jittery as your ordered cab approaches John's house, bringing you closer to an evening of his cooking and your attempts to open up to you.

Content warning: Reader is an escort (Minors DNI, 18+ only!), references to sex, 2.5k words

Masterlist // AO3 Version

John was stood at the cerulean open front door of a delightful detached house in the middle nowhere when you arrived. His dark jumper’s sleeves were rolled up, much to your glee, and he was wearing a navy apron that seemed fresh out of its package, creases straight up the centre in line with the angled slats and paneling of the house’s exterior.

You thanked the driver as you exited, hitting send on the text to your friend whilst passing by John’s black truck that was parked on the expansive drive.

“Hello, love.”

“Hello, John.” You kissed his cheek as you passed, noting how his cheek creased while he preened under your greeting.

Taking your cue from the shoe rack, you toed your own off to add to the collection. John showed you the ground floor of his home, leading the way amongst simple décor. Mounted art that was fresh out the plastic, a settee with cushions that had never felt the weight of a person, unchipped granite counter-tops, you poorly hid the chill it all gave you. A show room in IKEA had more of a soul than this.

At least, in the kitchen, there was some proof of residence in the various utensils scattered around. Pinches of salt and pepper scattered on a wooden chopping board

“What are we making then?” You met John’s raised eyebrow with your own. “What, you want me at the breakfast bar, sitting pretty, sipping wine? No! Show me.”

Somewhat of a calculated risk on your part, but really? John didn’t seem the type to force you into submission, and the smirk on his face tipped you off that he was rather hoping you’d help him cook before he even retrieved a spare apron for you to wear. You’d bet on yourself if you could.

Tied around your waist at the front, like you’d seen on The Bear, you brushed the front of the apron off before washing your hands. Glass dishware cradled steaks already soaked in seasoning and soy sauce, positioned out of the way on the draining board beside you.

You observed the bag of vegetables he unloaded, “This feels like a ‘we’re having guests over’ type of meal.”

“Well, you are my guest.”

“Aww, how early did you get to the farmer’s market to get all this?”

Your teasing was met by John confidently taking your wrists and manipulating them to have your palms open and up. Next thing you knew, he had plopped a beef tomato into both of them.

“Chop these please,” and, not even attempting to hide his amusement, he placed a recently sharpened knife on your designated chopping board.

Recovering from whatever that was, you placed the fruits down, “Fine, keep your secrets. Any preference for size of slice?”

“Diced, thank you.”

You hid the urge to bellow “behind!” well as you scooted around him to reach the sink. A quick wash later, you were carefully wheeled the knife over the tomatoes flesh.

“How was work?”

“Usual. Yourself?”

“Usual.” Shallow remarks, and your conversation recovered faster than last time when you asked, “Did you watch the Liverpool game the other night?”

John chuckled, “Working late, I had to look up the results after.”

“Maybe, when you can, even if we can’t meet up, we could do a watch along. You know, you watch where you are, I watch where I am and we chat on the phone in between the good bits.”

“I’d like that,” Then he went back to trimming his potatoes into slim sticks, his face still lit up from the idea. “Be like having you in my office.”

Ah, so he worked late and had an office. Okay, it wasn’t the big breakthrough that you were hoping for. It was something though.

That was when you realised what he was doing with the potatoes. “Making your own chips too? You’re going all out for me.

“Nothing you don’t deserve.”

“How often do you get to cook?”

“Not often at all.”

“Then I feel honoured.” And you leant up against John’s side as he finished dunking the slices in the saucepan of salted water. When you kissed his shoulder through the fabric of his cashmere jumper – the jumper he was filling out so very nicely, by the way - he didn’t stiffen like he had before. Rather, John got a dopey sort of smile that made all the lines by the corners of his eyes and mouth creased into being, creating more evidence of his happiness. You refused to tease him about anything around that, out of principle. Instead, you were pleased that your work was bringing more chances to make that expression appear.

“You wanna watch a show after dinner?”

“You have another recommendation?”

“I do have something in mind. It’s quite apropos.”

John hummed in approval whilst he set the saucepan to parboil the potatoes. Leaning against the countertop, you against the island, sipping away coyly as you spoke about some future plans.

“I’m good from here. Go sit down.”

He’d even set the table all romantic, gotten out some unburned candles to light and offered some wine, which you refused on principle of being in his house for the first time and technically on the clock. You didn’t tell him that, of course. You sat beside him at the long solid wood dining table though. Enough opposites on date nights, he craved domesticity, so you adjusted your placing beside him and looked as innocent was you could when he placed your dish in front of you first.

A cut of the steak was what you ate first, immediately covering your mouth with your hand as it sizzled on your tongue, the flavour’s power catching you off guard.

John raised an eyebrow, barely hiding his grin as he prepared to take his inaugural bite, “Good?”

Shaking your head, you revealed your smile, “Don’t look at me.”

Instead of laughing like he was clearly trying not to, John offered a toast and your glasses sang together as you gave cheers to the success of the meal. It was almost embarrassing how fast you polished your meal off, which you countered by singing John’s praises to get him a matching shade of shyness. He paired it nicely with his pride and ensuring you knew you were an excellent colleague in the kitchen, allowing you neatly to introduce:

“The Bear?”

“It’s so good. I’m only four episodes in - hooked.”

Like show, like play-pretend boyfriend, it seemed, although you and John barely reached the same intensity Carmy experienced during your own cooking experience.

It was time to test the waters again. The approach was like John was a rescue that needed to be reminded that soft touch was normal and to be expected around you.

It mainly involved resting your hand on his heart. But your position allowed you to press completely against him, your arm resting upon his full belly hidden beneath a layer of muscle, fat and fabric. This wasn’t just for John’s benefit; taking stock of how large he was, a man built from marble and conviction, kept you grounded in the reason why he’d hired you. Surely, someone had to be this man’s type, someone who would not mind the months apart and loved his mutton chops. His solitude dismayed you, as did the fact that he hadn’t yet made any advances on your spooning. You let out a sigh, aiming to present it as one of relief, and shifted your position in an act of getting comfortable (you were already more than satisfied with this spot).

When John let his cheek rest on your crown, you closed your eyes. Hopefully, this fit what he was after: couch cuddles after a nice meal. You hoped, even when he hadn’t asked you to stay.

“I’m sorry, this is meant to be a comedy?” He asked incredulously after the second episode’s cold open. You only shrugged before settling back down in his side, feeling a tingle in your spine as his finger idly traced along the left side of it.

What affirmed your suspicions was you know he wanted to ask you to stay anyway. But he never did. He caught up with your episodes, denied help with washing up the dishes and offered to walk you to the car, even if it was just fifteen steps down the gravel driveway.

“I’ll have to cook for you something next time,” You said, looping your arm through his.

“Just tell me what you need from the farmer’s market.”

“Thank you for tonight.” You pecked his cheek, taking your time when moving away. The result: John lurked equally close to you, his hand falling to your knee as if to stop you from fitting into the back seat properly. “You want me to stay, don’t you?”

Genuinely hesitant, John maintained his gentleman act even as he admitted: “I do.”

So it was delightful to see his micro-expressions shift when you said, as easy as breathing, “Let me go grab my pyjamas; I’ll be right back.”

“I could drive you?”

“You’ve got that washing up that you wouldn’t let me do,” You replied, keeping a balance of light-hearted in front of the cabby and firm enough to dissuade John from pushing further. Per your privacy clause in your agreement, you told John to link you up with the secure car service he wanted to use, so that he wouldn’t have your address. You did not want him to see where you lived.

Thankfully, he agreed to your conditions and he released the car door for you to close.

“Back in a flash!”

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

“I’m gonna change. Maybe we can watch more once I’m ready?”

He was still in his attempt at casual get-up – unless he just genuinely wore cashmere as a casual garment. Leading you upstairs, he showed you to his room that was just as straight laced and dust-free as the rest of the house. A cream en-suite was offered as your changing room. Taking note of how his bed was pressed firmly against the wall and window, you locked yourself into the en-suite.

You couldn’t help but explore. Beard care products in wicker baskets, plus a few bottles and tubes that were half-used sat inside sparse overhead cupboards. Upon the top shelf, a handful of toiletries from the hotels you met him in sat untouched and unused. Nothing outside of a typical bachelor bathroom, except you did pause to smell his cologne, even spray some in the space ahead to walk through on your way out.

Thank fuck you’d completed your laundry day yesterday. Matching and adorable pyjamas had been waiting for you on the chair pile when you’d arrived home earlier and now dressed you to perfection. You fired off another text, updating and assuring your safety despite being in a remote house.

Every step down to the sitting room revealed more of John, who was already staring at you from his spot on the couch, his wine almost absent from the glass in his hand. There was a careful smile on his face, well-constructed like every part of him. But over the banister, you could see what he couldn’t hide in the glint in his eyes.Maybe this was a kink: the apron, the cooking, the sleepwear. But if it was a kink, where was the sex he seemed so excited about during that initial dinner?

Still not a bad gig.

As you rejoined him on the couch, John held up his phone, “I transferred you the money whilst you were out.”

“I saw, thank you.” And you snuggled into his side once again.

As he eased back into the couch cushions, you felt John pull you into him and take a deep breath, his nose pressed into your scalp. A half second later, he drew away his head and you waited on his suddenly still chest to see what he did next.

His arms constricted around you for just a moment. Then they slacked into a lax grip around you, his thumb rubbing back and forth where it met your arm. He took another deep breath before letting loose a throaty three-note chuckle that had disastrous effects on your composure, prickling in your neck as you felt that glorious sound wash down your back. It would take the entire next episode of The Bear for you to feel semi-alright with giving it your whole attention, but that only meant, when you began to doze, that you were expected to tune back in whenever John teased you about it – and he teased mercilessly with a squeeze down on your hip.

“You recommend a show, then you fall asleep during it. How am I meant to trust your judgement?”

“Not my fault you’re like a hot water bottle.”

“Ah, so you’re the victim here.”

“Mm-hmm.”

At the sight of the end credits, John was the one to suggest going to bed. He was also the first to get in, lodging himself up against the wall after clearing his items from his bedside table into the drawer. The mattress slanted towards the middle as you folded yourself into bed, a rabbit in its warren, just avoiding the spot where John would usually recover from his day.

Sometimes, you did things without completely thinking them through. Never had you done it on the job though, so it was a shock to your system when you found yourself touching John’s arm to get his attention, words out of your voice box before your could turn it off:

“When we met, you told me that you would be lying if you weren’t interested in having sex. I’m interested in knowing what’s holding you back from asking for that.”

John paused his descent beneath the duvet and let his eyes drift down to where your hands gripped the bed sheets as he mulled over an answer.

When he looked back up, he spoke simply, “Nothing’s holding me back. I just don’t want that at the moment.”

That was all he offered, so it was what you accepted, kissing his lips quick as you wished him: “Goodnight, John.”

You slept with your hand under the pillow, holding onto your phone - silenced. But the night was as restless as you, waking you up to his arm around your waist at half two in the morning, the wind tap-tapping on the window. John’s radiator of a chest, hidden in his sleep shirt, was pulsing soporific warmth against your back. In the dark, you could make out something on his bicep where his shirt sleeve had rolled up. A tattoo but of what, you could barely decipher. You didn’t attempt to, flipping your pillow over before drifting off.

Roused once more, you did not bothering to check the time as you slid out of bed on auto-pilot, your legs carrying you to the bathroom blearily. You didn’t want to wake John or draw yourself too far from sleep, so you left the light off. Feeling around the chilled tiles you hadn’t yet committed to memory brought you to the toilet, the roll and then the sink, only the soapy water making an effort to bring your consciousness forward.

Eyes adjusting to the dull wash of darkness as your feet found carpet again, you were greeted by a new shadow.John was looking up at you with alert eyes, pushed up on his front like he was Ariel at a rock pool. One of his hands, fingers fanned out, was in the space you’d vacated.

“Did I wake you?” You whispered as you approached him.

His voice was gruffer as he denied, “No, no.”

When he let you back into the bed, he tucked you under the duvet and (to your mild surprise) pulled you into his chest. It was quite unceremonious, how he scooped you up and rubbed his cheek on the back of your head, like you were his cat. Content to play the part, you hummed and curled in his burly arms. You had no choice, really, but it was a nice little trap he laid for you, even if he wasn’t completely awake when he set it.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” John said in a growl before he seemed to drop back into sleep, his hand burrowing under your pyjama shirt to grasp your belly. And, in your subconscious effort to return to slumber, you believed him.

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

AN: Time for the interaction aspect! Vote on what you'd like to see me post next! Here's some short summaries:

Bubble Baths and Blisters (Pre-relationship/Fluff and Angst): Reader and John meet at another hotel at short notice. The reader offers to help John with his bath since he's injured (but he couldn't stay in the hospital any longer; he needed to see you).

First time (Pre-relationship/Angst and Smut): John calls the reader over last minute to his house. He's desperate for something to take his mind off things, but he's still holding out on getting over that first hurdle, still not quite taking what he wants. So you convince him to.

A “Moving-in” Present (Pre-relationship/Fluff and Some Smut): John buys something for the reader to welcome them into his home properly - with one little caveat.

#captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price fanfic #captain john price x you #cod fanfic #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #my writing #series #r: gn

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schemmentisjacket · 7 months ago

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Chapter 8- Concussion Protocol pt 2

Authors Note: Little something something about non binary queer new teacher coming in, leading to Melissa finding the one.

Who is this person, Melissa though to herself, staring up at the glass house in front of them, then to the tattooed person beside them.

‘It’s literally mystery after mystery with you, first the tattoos and now this house.’

Charlie laughed, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, ‘It’s nothing that exciting I promise. Come on let’s get inside, I don’t know about you but I’m starving.’

They held out their arm for you to take again, and Melissa allowed herself to be led over to a set of double doors off to the side of the garage. Keys in hand, Charlie unlocked the door, leading them into a small foyer, with stairs leading up. The walls were fairly empty, floor a dark grey wood leading to the stairs of plush grey carpet. Melissa automatically bent to take off her boots, dizziness rushing their head as Charlie locked the door behind them and turn to notice them sway and gentle gripped her arms helping her upright.

‘Woah hold up there I got it.’ They knelt before you, unzipping your boots and helping you step from them. Melissa felt a flush take over her face at the sight of them on their knees for her.

No one had ever treated her this way. Not Joe, Not Gary. No one.

And now someone who she’d only known for about a month was literally on their knees for her.

They unzipped and kicked off their own boots. Bending they scooped up both pairs and re offered Melissa an elbow.

‘Shall we do the tour?’

‘Seriously, whos’ are you?’

‘This way, mi’ lady.’

They led Melissa up the stairs, feet sinking into the plush carpet that lined them. At the top a set of doors was built into the wall, Charlie opened one and sat the footwear inside. Melissa peeked over their shoulder to quickly catch a glance of the sets and sets of different types of shoes, trainers and boots hidden behind before the doors shut again.

To their left Charlie led them through one of the double frosted doors, into a corridor. Glancing around Melissa spotted two more sets of doors one to the left and one to the right as well as another just to the right of where they had entered. The far ends of the hallway were glass windows letting the last of the evening sun glow in.

‘Those go upstairs, bedrooms, bathroom and stuff,’ Charlie explained pointing behind them.

‘To the left there is the front room and the right is the kitchen. I’ve heard you’re an excellent cook from the rest of the teachers. Shall we start there?’

Melissa’s eyebrows raised, ‘Whose been talking about my cooking? Bet it’s Jacob, that boy cannot keep his mouth shut.’

‘All good things, I promise.’

‘Mmhmm.’

Charlie pushed one of the doors open for Melissa to step in.

‘Holy mother of god,’ Melissa breathed. ‘What a kitchen.’

Full length windows covered two sides of the kitchen, the peaks of evening sunlight which Melissa had glanced from the corridor windows, basked the kitchen in a warm orange and pink.

A long thin dinning table with chairs were against the back windows.

In the middle of the kitchen was a free standing countertop, the dark top, a contrast to the white gloss of the cupboards and fitted with a sink and decorated sparingly with some wooden chopping boards and a large spice rack.

The wall without the windows had a large gas range cooker built in along with more dark countertops again below them and above the walls fitted with shiny white cupboards. Magnetic rails hung knives alongside the range, another large wooden chopping board below it.

A large double fridge sat along the wall where the doors in were.

‘You like it?’

‘I think I love it.’

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa x other #melissa x reader #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti

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sumuraj · 1 year ago

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#Buy shoe rack online #types of wooden shoe rack #Engineered wood shoe rack #Solid wood shoe rack #wooden shoe cabinet with sitting #wooden shoe cabinet without sitting #wooden shoe shelf #shoes almirah

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zeeverseconfession · 9 months ago

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Whats.up guys I'm back

Pot & their living space: Like I said before, LARGE open windows to fill the place with natural light instead of using overhead lights — they would have things like a shoe rack near the door, pegs for coats.

In the kitchen, it's more of a farmhouse kind of feel (yes, there's still big windows, a view to outside where the greenhouse is). So when they're making something, they use whatever they've been able to plant that day.

Spice cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. No need to expand further on that.

Debit Card: I like to think that he decorated with the intent of making things fit his aesthetic, so in this case, things with tiger stripe patterns, or animal patterns in general.

He likes to keep things organised — so when you enter, there's a small closet to keep shoes, and another closet to keep jackets near the front door.

On the walls, most likely various types of posters instead of photo frames, but if it is, its mainly family pictures that have weaseled their way to wall status.

Globe: Her house is earthy (pun intended, I guess), and full of costal design. The colours are on the neutral side of things, along with the decor. It's not too out there.

She's probably got candles around, either not used, or already burning — giving a lightsource. She doesn't use the overhead lights, and uses lamps and natural sunlight instead, and owns blinds, not curtains.

When guests are over, she takes their coats and they usually keep their shoes on. The coats go in a spare room for the time being, until they leave.

Box: They have a back garden, like I said before — there's probably a wooden shed back there, which is filled with various tools — next to it is a small patch of tomatoes growing.

They would have a grandfather clock — not because it's old, because she thought it looked cool. The previous owner left it, and Box decided that he didnt want to grt rid of it, as it added a bit of charm.

When you walk in, there's a big glass cabinet, probably full of things that they like — which adds a certain charm to the whole house.

this is adding on to the other confession.....

#HOLY HELL???? BRYCE????? -⚡️#/confession #/pot #/globe #/debit card #/box

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shinyeggplant808 · 1 month ago

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Puma

Chapter1

Faelen grabbed his Scott’s from under the bed. Wearing shoes in the house is big no no in Hawaii. Yet somehow his shoes or slippers always grew feet when left by the front door. He went to the closet for his flannel hoodie and took his AirPods off the dresser. Making his way towards the door releasing the latch he twists the knob.

“Wait…why am I giving him a ride? Who took his 4Runner?” Faelen mumbled quietly.

Griffin loved two things in this world. The hammah between his thighs and his white 4Runner. Faelen sat at third but only because he’s blood so he is loved by default. With the 4Runner being the second most cherished thing in Griffin’s hoe bag life. Not even his own brother could drive it. There is no way he would let some random woman take his ride no freaking way he thought as the door closes behind him.

“Griff?”

Faelen called out while making his way down the wooden steps. The plantation style house in Puliewa was built a few years after World War Two and has been standing without being remodeled. Every floor board and tile made its own song. If a mouse was to scurry, the floor would rat it out.

“Griff? You still here bro? What happened to your 4Runner? Griff!!?

Faelen reached the landing, turning the corner into the kitchen. The kitchen was never out of order. The island in the kitchen was always kept spotless. Every pot, pan every spoon had its place as mom use to say. Washing dishes as you cook meant less you had to clean before eating. She made sure her boys knew what women wanted. A tidy organized kitchen. A hardworking man to cook for. And a dicking down so ferocious she’d bend the knee at his will. She was mom and dad. The person who should have taught them that decided after he won the lottery he’d catch the first flight to New Zealand.

Faelen glanced around the kitchen. No dishes in the rack. Counters wiped and sanitized. The stove was cold with eyes covered. Faelen cleared the corner of the island. A red piece of fabric balled up on the floor. Odd he thought as he zeros in. leaning in to investigate the foreign object.

“Panties!??? Really Gr..”

Griffin snatches the lace fabric from Faelen’s grip with a smile from ear to ear. Inhaling deeply into the previously worn garment. Dick pulsating through grey under armor. His eyes rolled back. Mouth a gape as he lets out a long exhale. Stunned by his own brother love of Victoria’ Secret, Faelen said the only thing he could in a situation like this.

“You sick fuck!” The look of disgust and jealousy flooded Faelen’s face. His right cheek slightly raised.

“Whose panties are those Griff? As if he would know the name of whom ever got their guts rearranged. Faelen has never been with a woman long enough to know what type of panties she wore. All the women who friend zoned him did so just for a shot at his younger brother.

“I dont know man some curly haired hapa chick with a fat ass I met last night. Brah she had the nicest assI’ve ever seen my guy. Her leggings wrapped around her thighs dude you can tell she’s a runner for sure. Fuck bro, and she smelled like roses and some fruity shit man it was crazy. I don’t even remember her name”

Griffin went on and on about his latest piece of ass for a good five minutes. The more he rambled about her the longer his bulge grew. His engorged head barely reaching his knee. A dark spot began forming by his tip as precum started trailing down his leg. The under armor was definitely losing this battle. Sweat began beading on his brow. His eyes became blood shot as the rolled back. Faelen wasn’t about to watch his brother nut he already heard enough from this mornings fuck off.

“Griff!…Geezus bro!! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Faelen interrupted. “ I don’t need to see this shit man. I’m going back to bed fuck this!” Faelen making his way out the kitchen.

Griffin rolls his eyes forward breaking the pre orgasm trance. His dick head returning to the middle of his thigh.

“Bro look!” Griffin said holding up the red thong. “Look at what’s on it?

Griffin held open the thong with both hands. The red lace front floral pattern design sparkled under the sunlight. The aroma of fruits gardenias flooded the kitchen. On the front embroidered in black was what looked like an animal of some kind. Too large to be a kitten too small to a Lion.

“Is that a Puma? Faelen asked “It looks like a black Puma! Curious to see the craftsmanship on such agile fabric Faelen and to help his brother get his shit together Faelen pries the thong out of Griffin clammy palms. Turning the it over to the reverse side. Embroidered in black he found a set of numbers and letters.

“Bro! It’s an address!” Faelen said while showing his brother. It was very certain at that moment that they both had the same train of thought. The brothers had spent all their lives together but rarely spoken in unison. But in the midst of the fruits and gardenia high.

“Let’s Go!”

***

#smut #short story #fiction #creative writing #original writing

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atplblog · 1 day ago

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audentiaspacesworld · 20 days ago

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Top 10 Wooden Shoe Rack Ideas for Modern Interiors

A well-designed shoe rack enhances the aesthetics of your home while keeping your footwear organized. Choosing the right shoe rack wooden design not only adds elegance but also ensures functionality. Whether you have a small entryway or a spacious hallway, a designer shoe rack can be a perfect addition to your modern interiors. Here are the top 10 wooden shoe rack ideas to elevate your home decor.

1. Minimalist Wooden Shoe Rack

For those who love simplicity, a minimalist shoe rack wooden design is ideal. With clean lines and a sleek finish, this rack blends seamlessly into any space while keeping clutter at bay.

2. Wall-Mounted Wooden Shoe Rack

A great space-saving option, the wall-mounted shoe rack wooden design is perfect for compact homes. It keeps the floor clear, making the area look more spacious and organized.

3. Multi-Tier Wooden Shoe Rack

A multi-tier designer shoe rack offers ample storage for multiple pairs of shoes. You can choose an open-shelf design for easy accessibility or opt for a closed cabinet to keep dust away.

4. Wooden Shoe Bench with Storage

A dual-purpose shoe rack wooden design, this bench-style rack provides storage while doubling as a seating area. Ideal for entryways, it allows you to sit comfortably while wearing or removing shoes.

5. Vintage Wooden Shoe Cabinet

For those who love classic interiors, a vintage designer shoe rack made from solid wood adds a timeless charm. Featuring intricate carvings and polished wood, this shoe cabinet enhances the aesthetic appeal of your home.

6. Open-Shelf Wooden Shoe Rack

An open-shelf shoe rack wooden design offers a modern and airy look. It allows quick access to shoes and keeps them well-ventilated, preventing moisture buildup.

7. Foldable Wooden Shoe Rack

A practical choice for those who need flexibility, a foldable designer shoe rack is easy to move and store. It is lightweight and perfect for temporary or seasonal use.

8. Ladder-Style Wooden Shoe Rack

A ladder-style shoe rack wooden design adds a unique touch to modern interiors. Leaning against the wall, it provides multiple tiers for shoes while maintaining a stylish appearance.

9. Compact Corner Wooden Shoe Rack

Maximize your space with a compact corner designer shoe rack. Designed to fit snugly in unused corners, this type of shoe rack is both functional and stylish.

10. Wooden Shoe Rack with Sliding Doors

For a sleek and modern touch, a wooden shoe rack with sliding doors offers a contemporary storage solution. This shoe rack wooden design keeps shoes hidden while adding elegance to your interiors.

Conclusion

A well-chosen shoe rack wooden design not only organizes your footwear but also complements your home decor. Whether you prefer a designer shoe rack with a modern look or a traditional wooden cabinet, there are plenty of options to suit your style. Investing in a high-quality wooden shoe rack ensures durability, functionality, and timeless appeal for your interiors.

#shoe rack designs #shoe rack wooden design #modern shoe rack design #wooden shoe rack designs for home #shoe cabinet design #shoe rack design at entrance #shoe rack design ideas #shoe rack furniture design #creative shoe rack design #latest shoe rack design #designer shoe rack #modern shoe rack with seat #best shoe rack design

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buyersguides · 27 days ago

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Wardrobes

Wardrobe Wonders: Transform Your Space with Style and Functionality

Explore the ultimate guide to wardrobes, blending style, functionality, and organization tips. From space-saving solutions to trendy designs, discover how to upgrade your storage game effortlessly. Check UK Prices 1. Why Every Home Deserves a Fabulous Wardrobe Ah, wardrobes—the silent superheroes of our homes. They hold our secrets (hello, mystery sock drawer), keep our spaces tidy, and give our favorite outfits a cozy little haven. But wardrobes are more than just furniture—they’re a reflection of your style and personality. Whether you live in a cozy apartment or a sprawling countryside home, the right wardrobe makes all the difference. It doesn’t just store your belongings; it organizes your life. Imagine knowing exactly where your favorite sweater is on a cold morning. Bliss, right? And let’s not forget the aesthetic appeal. A well-chosen wardrobe can completely transform a room. It’s like the cherry on top of your interior design sundae. Speaking of which… let’s dive into how to pick the perfect one for you. 2. Wardrobes 101: Types and Styles Unlocked Not all wardrobes are created equal. In fact, there’s a wardrobe out there for every taste, need, and Pinterest mood board. Freestanding Wardrobes: The classic choice. They’re versatile, easy to move, and come in every style imaginable—from vintage oak to modern minimalism. Perfect if you like to rearrange your room every other week, just for fun. Built-in Wardrobes: These are the tailored suits of the furniture world. They’re customized to fit your space and make the most of awkward corners. Ideal for those who enjoy a sleek, clutter-free look. Sliding Door Wardrobes: A great space-saving option, sliding doors add a modern touch. Plus, there’s no risk of smacking yourself with an open door at 7 a.m. 3. Size Matters: Finding the Right Fit Before you fall in love with that dreamy mahogany wardrobe, let’s talk dimensions. Because size really does matter when it comes to wardrobes. Start by measuring your space. That stunning double-door wardrobe might look divine in a showroom, but if it turns your bedroom into a cramped cave, it’s a no-go. Also, think about your storage needs. Do you need room for formal wear, bulky winter coats, or an ever-growing shoe collection? Choose a wardrobe that balances style and practicality. 4. The Art of Organization: Inside Your Wardrobe Let’s peek inside, shall we? A wardrobe’s interior is just as important as its exterior. It’s what keeps the chaos at bay (or, at least, tries to). Hanging Rails: Perfect for dresses, shirts, and jackets. Bonus points if there’s a double rail—it’s like a wardrobe with a loft conversion. Drawers and Shelves: Great for folded clothes, accessories, and those random items you just don’t know where else to put. Shoe Racks: Because your shoes deserve a throne too. 5. Materials That Make a Difference When it comes to wardrobes, materials matter. They affect the look, durability, and maintenance of your furniture. Wooden Wardrobes: Timeless and sturdy. From oak to walnut, wood adds warmth and character to any room. Just keep a polish handy. Laminate and MDF: Affordable and easy to clean, these materials offer a modern look. Plus, they come in a variety of finishes, so you can mimic just about any style. Mirrored Wardrobes: Reflective surfaces are perfect for small rooms, making them look bigger and brighter. And hey, you get a bonus full-length mirror. 6. Wardrobes That Match Your Style Your wardrobe should complement your home’s vibe, not clash with it. Here’s how to make sure your storage solution is as stylish as it is functional. If you love modern minimalism, go for clean lines, neutral colors, and sleek finishes. Think Scandinavian vibes. For a vintage aesthetic, look for ornate designs, distressed finishes, and warm wood tones. Antique wardrobes can be real showstoppers. Prefer a boho-chic look? Opt for rattan details or pastel colors. Add some fairy lights around your wardrobe for an extra cozy touch. 7. Space-Saving Hacks for Small Rooms Tiny room? No problem. With the right wardrobe, you can maximize your space without sacrificing style. Mirrored Doors: As we mentioned earlier, they reflect light and make a room feel more spacious. Plus, they’re practical. Corner Wardrobes: These nifty designs tuck neatly into corners, making use of every inch of space. Overhead Storage: Some wardrobes come with extra compartments above the main doors. Perfect for items you don’t need every day. 8. Maintenance Tips: Keep Your Wardrobe Looking Fresh A wardrobe is a long-term investment, so treat it well. Here’s how to keep yours looking as good as new: - Dust regularly: Because no one wants a sneeze attack while grabbing a sweater. - Avoid overloading: Too much weight can warp shelves or rails. Keep it balanced. - Polish wooden surfaces: A little TLC goes a long way in maintaining that gorgeous finish. 9. The Eco-Friendly Wardrobe Revolution Sustainability is in (as it should be). If you’re eco-conscious, consider these options: Reclaimed Wood: Gives new life to old materials while adding a rustic charm. Flat-pack Wardrobes: Many flat-pack options are made with eco-friendly materials and are easy to transport, reducing their carbon footprint. Second-Hand Finds: Vintage wardrobes not only have character but also save resources by avoiding new production. 10. Wardrobe Accessories You Didn’t Know You Needed Last but not least, let’s talk about wardrobe accessories. These little extras can make a big difference in your daily routine. Drawer Dividers: Keep your socks, ties, or jewelry neatly organized. No more rummaging! Hanging Organizers: Perfect for scarves, belts, or even your favorite hats. LED Lights: Add some under-shelf LED lights to illuminate your wardrobe’s interior. It’s a small luxury that feels oh-so-fancy. And there you have it—a wardrobe journey from chaotic storage to organized bliss. Whether you’re revamping your bedroom or simply looking for a way to tame the clutter, the right wardrobe can truly transform your space. So go ahead, find your perfect match, and embrace the wardrobe wonders! Editor's Choice

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