#vintage leather lounge chair

[thehistoryvintageantiques]

#180 Pair of Ingmar Relling Siesta chairs

Item Number : #74

Low-back Siesta Chairs

Ingmar Relling

for Westnofa Furniture, Norway 1970s.

Beautifully reupholstered.

The Siesta chair, designed by Norwegian designer Ingmar Relling in 1965, is a timeless and iconic piece of furniture known for its sleek and minimalist design. With its curvy beech frame and comfortable canvas sling upholstered with new, soft, and supple leather cushion.

The Siesta chair is not only aesthetically pleasing but also ergonomically sound. Its simple yet elegant form has made it a staple in our homes, offices, and public spaces for decades.

Ingmar Relling's creation continues to be celebrated for its Scandinavian design principles that combine form, function, and comfort effortlessly.

These are the most comfortable of all the Scandinavian vintage lounge chairs.

86H x 62W x 84L cm

[markalexanderdesign]

The Timeless Elegance of Wingback Chairs

Wingback chairs, with their unique high back and "wings" that extend to the armrests, have been a fixture of traditional furniture design for ages. These chairs have transformed into classic objects that lend a touch of refinement and elegance to any space. Wingback chairs provide comfort and style, making them a great addition to any living area, bedroom, or study. Everything you need to know about wingback chairs and how to use them in your house is provided here.

Choosing the Right Wingback Chair

Consider Your Space

Think about the area where you want to put the wingback chair before making the purchase. Since wingback chairs are usually bigger and more imposing than other chair styles, the room should have enough area around them to prevent feeling crowded. Make sure there is adequate space for the chair and for others to manoeuvre around it comfortably by measuring the area.

Style and Design

There are several styles of wingback chairs, ranging from classic to contemporary. Modern wingback chairs could have sleek metal frames and trendy fabrics, but traditional models frequently have wooden legs and traditional upholstery. Select a chair that goes well with the current design in your house by taking the overall style into account.

Fabric and Upholstery

The fabric of your wingback chair is crucial to both its appearance and durability. Common wingback chair fabrics include leather, velvet, linen, and cotton. Leather and velvet are luxurious and durable but require more maintenance. Linen and cotton are more casual and easy to care for. Choose a fabric that suits your lifestyle and aesthetic preferences.

Comfort and Ergonomics

While comfort is crucial, style is also important. Seek for a wingback chair that has plush armrests, a backrest, and a seat. The wings should give enough support for your head and shoulders. Try to sit in it to ensure the chair is supportive and comfy before buying. Also, you can customise it as per your need but make sure you choose the best interior designer.

Incorporating Wingback Chairs into Your Home

Living Room

A wingback chair can function as an accent chair or a statement item in the living area. To establish a comfortable sitting space, combine it with a sofa and coffee table. Opt for a wingback chair in a traditional fabric, such as velvet or leather, for a more conventional appearance. Choose a chair with striking patterns or colours for a modern touch.

Bedroom

A wingback chair can give the bedroom a hint of extravagance. To create a cosy reading nook, put it in a corner with a small side table and a reading lamp. To add to the calming ambience, use soft, comforting textiles like cotton or linen.

Study or Home Office

A wingback chair can be a chic and cosy seating option in a study or home office. Combine it with bookshelves and a wooden desk for an elegant, traditional style. To maintain comfort during extended work or study sessions, go for a chair that offers ergonomic support.

Conclusion

With its classic design and comfort, wingback chairs complement any house greatly. There is a wingback chair to fit your needs and taste, whether you choose a conventional or modern style. By selecting the ideal wingback chair, you may add flair, comfort, fabric, and space to your living room, bedroom, or study. With proper care, your wingback chair will remain a cherished piece of furniture for years to come.

[fratttymatty]

The Basement

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot York had always lived in a world of his own making. A world painted in shades of faded Polaroids, sepia-toned photography, and the tactile hum of his beloved vintage film camera. At 30 years old, he'd never left his childhood home. His mother didn’t mind. She was just happy he was there, safely tucked away in the basement, where he spent hours surrounded by his photography equipment, sketchbooks, and the scent of old books. His life had always been quiet and unassuming—except for the occasional flare-up of frustration over his stalled career as a freelance photographer and artist.

The basement was his sanctuary. He had put up curtains to separate the clutter of his workspace from the cozy corner where he gamed, lounged on old leather sofas, and tried (and failed) to distract himself from the loneliness that gnawed at him. The art on the walls, his collection of vintage cameras, the scattered paintbrushes and half-finished canvases—they were all remnants of a dream that had long been abandoned. But Elliot had found peace there, or at least a dull form of acceptance.

But one evening, as he sunk into his usual routine—editing photos, sipping cheap wine, and scrolling through social media—something strange began to happen. The room felt different. The walls started to shift and hum with an energy that he couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t a good feeling, not the cozy, familiar vibe that usually calmed him after a long day. No, this was something else. It was unsettling, almost alien.

Elliot stood up, his bare feet cold against the concrete floor. He reached for his phone to check the time, but the screen went black before he could tap it. As if on cue, the lights flickered, then dimmed, and then everything went dark. The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Before he could react, the floor beneath him began to tremble. His heart raced, and the air seemed to pulse with something he couldn’t name. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, a searing light that filled every corner of the room. He shielded his eyes, but it was no use. The glow was everywhere.

The sound of furniture shifting, re-arranging itself, reached his ears. When the light finally faded, Elliot opened his eyes to find that the basement had transformed into something… different.

Where his art studio had once been, now stood a private gym. The walls were lined with weights, punching bags, and racks of dumbbells. There was a neon sign in the corner that read “GET BIG OR GO HOME,” and a large flat-screen TV mounted on the opposite wall, with gaming consoles strewn across a low table. His leather sofas had been replaced with sleek beanbag chairs, and there were posters of famous athletes and cars decorating the walls. The entire room reeked of sweat and testosterone.

Elliot staggered backward, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. He looked around in a daze. This… this wasn’t his space. This was some jock’s lair. It was everything he wasn’t. But before he could piece together what was going on, he felt a strange tug in the pit of his stomach. It was an almost physical sensation, a deep, primal force pulling at him, rewiring him, altering him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

And then it started.

His body began to heat up, the air around him feeling thicker, as if his very cells were being remade. His skin stretched and tightened, his muscles swelling unnaturally as the change began. Elliot gasped, but the sound came out wrong. His voice, once soft and melodic, deepened into something guttural, more masculine. The edges of his vision blurred as the pain started to radiate from the inside out.

His hands, once slender and artistic, grew thick with muscle. His arms were covered in a sheen of sweat as his shoulders broadened and his chest expanded. His abdomen contracted and thickened, forming the abs of a bodybuilder. He could feel the air leaving his lungs as the transformation continued—each breath a battle. His legs grew stronger, thicker, the bones in his legs cracking and reshaping, giving him the powerful legs of a jock.

As the changes continued, Elliot's mind was bombarded by new thoughts, new instincts. The urge to lift weights, to work out, to dominate, it all consumed him. His thoughts flickered and shifted, like pages turning in a book, each one erasing a part of his old self.

His hair was the first thing he noticed. The bleached buzzcut he had been sporting for the past year—decorated with delicate flowers and a symbol of his indie artist lifestyle—was gone. In its place was a thick, dark brown fringe that fell messily across his forehead, styled in the latest TikTok jock fashion. He ran a hand through it, surprised at how it felt so right to him now.

His clothing, too, had transformed. The oversized hoodie and vintage jeans he had been wearing were gone, replaced by a fitted, tight athletic shirt and cargo shorts that clung to his newly muscled thighs. He stared at himself in the reflective surface of the gym mirror. The person staring back at him was unrecognizable.

The most shocking change, however, was the way his mind worked. Elliot—no, the person who had been Elliot—was slipping away. His new name was Ethan. He knew that now. He felt it. The name Ethan York seemed to pulse in his veins. The old worries about art, about the future, about being different—all of that was fading. In its place, a new drive surged within him: sports, girls, and partying. The thrill of competition, of lifting weights, of kissing girls on couches like these… that was what mattered now.

Ethan stood there for what felt like hours, unable to tear his eyes away from the mirror. His entire identity was slipping through his fingers like sand. His old life—the life of an artist, of a photographer, of someone who had longed to find his place in the world—felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else. It no longer seemed to matter.

A loud cheer echoed through the basement, and Ethan realized with a jolt that there were people here now. His friends—his new friends—were hanging out in the basement, lifting weights, laughing, playing video games, and throwing around crude jokes. One of them, a tall guy with broad shoulders and a thick neck, slapped Ethan on the back.

“Yo, dude, you ready for the party later?” he asked, his voice full of that easy confidence that Ethan now understood all too well.

“Yeah, for sure,” Ethan replied with a grin that felt so natural, it was as if he had always smiled like this. His old self—the one who had stared at the world through the lens of a camera, capturing fleeting moments—was gone.

As Ethan joined his friends, slipping into the role of the charismatic jock, he realized that there was no going back. He had been reborn. His old life, his old dreams, everything that had once been important to him, now felt hollow, irrelevant.

The basement—the gym, the gaming consoles, the posters of athletes—was no longer a prison of his own making. It was home. And for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt free.

He never once looked back.

The first few days after the transformation were a blur of new experiences, sensations, and… changes. Ethan, as he was now called, settled into his new life with an unsettling ease. At first, there was a part of him—buried deep inside—that clung to the remnants of his old identity. The artist. The creative soul. The man who had spent years living in his mother's basement, making art and dreaming of a different life. But that part of him quickly became overshadowed by the aggressive, hyper-masculine energy that now consumed him.

The more he worked out, the more his body seemed to crave the endorphin rush of weightlifting, of winning, of being the best. His muscles were constantly sore, but the pain felt good—it felt like he was becoming something greater, something stronger, something… dominant. And the more he grew in this new identity, the more he found himself disdainful of anything weak, anything soft. His patience with his old hobbies—photography, art, writing—waned. His camera, once a tool of self-expression, now sat neglected in the corner of his room, gathering dust.

Ethan started to feel that old life was for losers. The people he used to admire—quirky artists, introverted thinkers, anyone who didn’t fit into the tight mold of a jock—seemed… pathetic now. And in its place, a new breed of arrogance and entitlement bloomed within him. He was the center of his world now, and he knew it. The stares, the whispers—he loved them. He could feel the eyes of girls on him whenever he walked into a room, and it sent a rush of pride through his veins.

"Yo, Ethan, you gonna hit the gym today or what?" a voice called out as he walked through the basement. His buddy, Kyle, was sprawled across the new couch, his feet up on the coffee table, wearing a tank top that showcased his broad arms.

"Yeah, in a minute," Ethan replied with a lazy shrug, flipping his dark, messy hair out of his eyes. He no longer cared about the quiet, artistic moments he'd once cherished. Instead, he reveled in the shallow conversations, the jokes about how much protein they were consuming, and the constant flexing of muscles.

But then there were those moments, the ones that made his blood boil—moments that left a sour taste in his mouth, even in the high of his newfound popularity.

One evening, he was hanging out with a group of his friends—drinking beer and playing video games in the transformed basement, laughing too loud, throwing insults at each other like it was the height of wit. The mood was light, but there was something that cut through the laughter that made Ethan’s muscles tense, his jaw clench.

A guy he barely knew—Mark, one of the freshmen from the high school he still technically attended—had shown up at the party, wearing a tight shirt that clung to his body a little too snugly for Ethan's liking. Mark wasn’t a jock, not in the way Ethan now thought of as right. He was more on the geeky side, wearing glasses and talking too much about video games instead of football.

“Yo, Ethan, I didn’t know you liked photography,” Mark said awkwardly, holding a bottle of soda like it was his lifeline.

Ethan glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I used to be into that art stuff. Now I’m focused on real things, y’know? Like... working out.” His voice was rougher now, full of the newfound arrogance that he couldn't even recognize as self-loathing anymore.

Mark fumbled with his drink. "Oh, cool. I mean, I think it's awesome how, like, artistic people can still be jocks."

Ethan’s expression shifted immediately. His lip curled into a sneer, and his eyes narrowed. “Artistic, huh? That’s cute. You know what I think about art?” He looked down at Mark with mock pity. “It’s for soft people. You know, like… weirdos.” His words were sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The others at the party laughed, clearly uncomfortable but complicit in the joke.

Mark flushed, visibly shrinking under Ethan’s gaze. Ethan wasn’t even thinking about it at this point; he was just speaking what came naturally. The idea that someone could be into photography and still be tough, still be masculine, felt so wrong to him now. He couldn’t put it into words, but his gut told him that real men didn’t concern themselves with art or sensitivity. Real men got girls, lifted heavy weights, and dominated life. His new life.

But it wasn’t just about art. Ethan’s homophobia had grown like a weed in a garden, spreading uncontrollably. It was like his new self had to rewrite every part of him, especially the parts that could be considered “weak” or “soft.” His tolerance for things that felt “feminine” had evaporated, and soon, even the smallest hint of something that was remotely “gay” or “queer” made his skin crawl.

At one point, when a guy from school—Chris—who was a bit more effeminate and openly gay, sat down on the couch near him, Ethan felt his blood pressure spike. Chris had always been polite, always too friendly, but Ethan had never given it much thought—until now.

"Hey, Ethan," Chris said, adjusting his hoodie and running a hand through his sleek hair. "You up for a game later?"

Ethan didn’t look at him at first. Instead, he took a long swig of his beer, his eyes scanning the room. "Nah, man. I’m good," he muttered, his tone dismissive.

Chris laughed awkwardly. "Alright, well… if you change your mind, you know where I am."

Ethan’s eyes flicked back to Chris, narrowing. “Honestly, dude, you should maybe… like, tone it down a little,” he said, his voice low, deliberately cutting. "You don’t have to be all... effeminate all the time. It’s a little weird."

His words hung in the air, like a heavy stone.

Chris blinked, clearly taken aback. "What do you mean?" he asked, his face shifting with confusion.

Ethan leaned back, his gaze hardening. "I mean... just… you're acting like you’re in a fucking musical or something." He chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to him. “You don’t need to act so… gay all the time. It’s just uncomfortable for everyone.”

There was a cold silence in the room. Mark, Kyle, and the others shifted uncomfortably, but no one said anything. They just stared, either not caring or too afraid to speak up.

Ethan didn’t care. He was beyond caring.

He was a man now. And men didn’t have time for weakness, for sensitivity, for anything that didn’t fit into the world he had molded for himself. The girl he had been flirting with earlier, Mia—she was all over him now, and that felt like the only thing that mattered. He wasn’t some soft, emotional artist anymore. He was Ethan York, and he was popular, and he was a man.

The party continued late into the night. Ethan and his friends played video games, traded insults, and knocked back more beers. The air was thick with bravado, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. But Mark—who had been pushed aside by Ethan's cruel words earlier—remained quiet, nursing his soda.

He watched Ethan, his old classmate, with a strange mix of fascination and unease. Something about Ethan had shifted, something deep, something unsettling. But at the same time, Mark couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of longing—a desire to be part of the group, to be part of what Ethan had become. There was a magnetism about Ethan now, something powerful and alluring. And despite everything inside him that told him he didn’t belong in this world, a small voice in his head whispered that maybe, just maybe, he could change.

It was then that the transformation began.

It started subtly, like the shifting of shadows, creeping through Mark’s body like a slow burn. He felt a wave of heat flood through his chest, his limbs tingling with unfamiliar energy. He was still sitting on the couch, his eyes locked on Ethan as if hypnotized, but everything around him seemed to blur. His body seemed to ache, his muscles pulsing as if they were being stretched and expanded.

Mark’s hands clenched, his knuckles cracking as his fingers thickened with new muscle. His legs seemed to twitch, his jeans growing tighter around his thighs as they bulked up, swelling with new strength. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as his entire body seemed to reshape itself, and his thoughts—his old, nerdy thoughts—faded away, replaced by an overwhelming desire to fit in, to be powerful, to be strong.

His clothes felt tight, uncomfortably so, and with a sickening snap, his shirt ripped open across his chest as his pecs ballooned out. His face burned, his jawline sharpening, and his hair—once messy and unruly—now fell in a dark, tousled fringe that framed his face in the exact same style as Ethan's. He barely recognized himself. Mark’s body, once scrawny and awkward, was now a mass of muscle, solid and imposing.

He stood up, suddenly feeling taller, stronger—almost as if he was made to stand out. He looked around the room, his gaze landing on Ethan, who stared back with a mixture of amusement and pride. Mark didn’t say a word.

The transformation had taken hold completely.

“Yo, Ethan,” Mark said, his voice now deep and confident, full of swagger. His tongue felt heavier in his mouth, and his words came out with a new arrogance, “This is fucking awesome.”

Ethan smirked, clearly satisfied. "Welcome to the team, bro," he said, throwing an arm around Mark’s newly broad shoulders, the two of them standing side-by-side. It felt natural, as if this was how it had always been.

Mark didn’t hesitate. His old self—the nerd, the shy, creative guy who had spent hours tinkering with gadgets and buried in his books—was gone. In its place stood someone who had finally found their place in the world. Mark was a man, and he wasn’t going back.

The soft hum of the gym in Ethan’s basement was now a constant background noise in his life—weights clanging, music blasting, and the occasional cheer of a newly broken record. The basement had been his domain, but in the last few months, it had become more than that. It had become the center of his life, not just in terms of workouts and gaming, but in how he’d built the new life he’d always dreamed of—confident, strong, and undeniably him.

But the biggest change had nothing to do with the weights or the video games. It had everything to do with her.

Mia.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked up under her as she flipped through a magazine, occasionally glancing up at Ethan as he adjusted his dumbbells. The space between them was no longer just one of attraction or chemistry—it was something deeper now, something rooted in trust and understanding. They had been together for several months, and while the world around Ethan had transformed beyond recognition, there was one constant—Mia.

And she’d always had a way of seeing beyond the surface.

“Hey, how’s the game going?” Mia asked, a playful edge to her voice. She didn’t need to say much to get his attention.

Ethan grinned, setting down the weights. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then leaned against the wall, glancing at her. “Crushing it. Of course.” He winked, his tone cocky, but the smile on his face was genuine.

Mia raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re always crushing it,” she said, her voice light but full of affection. "You need to teach me your secret sometime."

Ethan laughed, walking over and sitting next to her on the couch, his hand naturally resting on the back of her neck. He let his fingers trail lightly over the skin there, brushing away a strand of hair. “You mean the secret to being irresistible?” he said, voice laced with playful arrogance.

She snorted. “You really do have an ego now, don’t you?”

He grinned, but the cocky edge in his voice softened. “Maybe a little. But I’m not complaining. Life’s good right now.” He took a deep breath, feeling the quiet satisfaction of his success, but it wasn’t about the muscles or the achievements. It was about the life he had built—and who he was building it with.

Mia reached up to cup his jaw, her fingers gentle as they traced the sharp line of his face. She studied him, her expression softening. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “I can see that. But you know what? I’m proud of you, Ethan. You’ve worked hard for all of this. I see the difference in you.”

Ethan smiled, the weight of her words settling warmly in his chest. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you, Mia.”

She tilted her head slightly, still holding his gaze. “Maybe not. But you did it. And that’s all you.”

There was a silence between them—one of those comfortable, content moments that didn’t need any words. He knew what she meant. She wasn’t just talking about the physical changes—those were easy. What she meant was that he’d grown into a person who wasn’t afraid to be himself anymore. He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t, or hiding behind old insecurities. He was a man who had claimed his place in the world—and who had found someone who not only accepted him, but loved him for exactly who he was.

Their lips met softly in a kiss, one that wasn’t rushed or full of desperation, but one that carried years of silent understanding. They’d both grown over the past months—not just together, but as individuals. Ethan had finally come to realize that strength wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, too. And Mia had always been there, steady and real, pulling him forward whenever he felt like he was slipping.

As they pulled away, Mia grinned up at him. “So, what are we doing tonight? I was thinking we could actually hang out in the real world instead of this basement gym.”

Ethan laughed. “You mean… like a date? Outside of this cave?”

“Exactly,” she said, her smile wide and genuine. “Maybe we could hit up that new sushi place you’ve been talking about? You know, actually go somewhere without a weight bench involved?”

Ethan thought about it for a moment. He was used to the basement—the familiar pull of weights, the games, the comfort of his private space. But as he looked at Mia, at the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something as simple as dinner out, he realized that there were more important things than the four walls that had once defined his life.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, reaching down to take her hand. “I think I’m ready for something new.”

Mia grinned, squeezing his hand. “You mean you’re finally ready to leave your little kingdom?”

Ethan chuckled, pulling her up from the couch and leading her toward the door. “Maybe. But don’t get used to it. The basement's still got a few more workouts left in me.”

Mia laughed, her head resting against his shoulder as they walked out the door together. She was right—Ethan had changed. And while the muscle and the confidence were part of it, the real change had happened inside. He was no longer the guy who hid in the shadows of his mother’s basement, afraid to show the world who he truly was. Now, he was the man who had built his life, step by step, with the strength of his own will—and with the love of someone who saw him, really saw him, for all of it.

And as he stepped into the world outside, hand in hand with Mia, Ethan knew that whatever came next, he was ready for it. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living.

And he had someone by his side to enjoy it with.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

୨୧ ʝαɯႦɾҽαƙҽɾ (σɳҽ) ୨୧

୨୧ Pairings: rich boy!seonghwa x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!choi san x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!hongjoong x chubby!fem!reader, mentions of yunho

୨୧ Genre: graduate school au/smut/angst/a lil fluffy

୨୧ Summary: It was never your intention to infiltrate one of the most exclusive social circles at your new university, seducing rich boys to get who and what you want. Wait, no, it was.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.7k-ish

୨୧ Warnings: reader's in her villain era, demon line are wealthy low key villains too, strong language, some dom demon line/sub reader dynamics, you sleep with everyone darling, oral sex (m & f receiving), swallowing, pet names (good girl), obsession, probably a praise kink (who am I kidding? it's for sure a theme), jealousy/light possessiveness, sugar baby origins, unprotected sex, a lil drop of rough sex, marking, fingering, mention of multiple orgasms, public spicy stuff, light choking, scratching, nibbling, dry humping, & that's it, babes.

୨୧ A/N: This baby has sorta just been chilling in the drafts cause I kinda get nervous to post sometimes but I'm gonna let her be free now. This one focuses on Hwa moreso but Joong and San will get their time too. Yunho's also a part of this, just not quite yet. So, yes, I hope you like it!

୨୧ Part Two is Here ୨୧

Observe a weekly study session held by three best friends. It takes place every Sunday, almost ritualistically so, at 3:00pm sharp in the apartment of ringleader Kim Hongjoong. Situated at the top floor of an old university office turned luxury apartment building, it has a vintage charm to it that somehow makes it feel more absurdly expensive than it already is. 

Observe that, despite their long held agreement that this is a “study” session, no one’s actually studying. Not Choi San lounging in the brown Italian leather chair, mindlessly chewing on one of the legs of his round rimmed glasses when he should be wearing them instead. 

Not Hongjoong painstakingly rearranging the shoes by the door. Seonghwa’s black Dior Oxfords can’t go near Hongjoong’s custom leather Prada sneakers. They are custom after all. 

Not Seonghwa who’s leaning by the window doodling on the crisp pages of his $200 copy of the Netter Atlas of Human Anatomy, an act that would be blasphemous to someone like him on any other day.

But no one’s doing anything they’d do on a normal day because this isn’t a normal day. They’re distracted, unable to peel their minds free from the events of last night and it’s all your fault. 

Staring down at the space between his legs, San can only think about the fact that you were there. You, the new girl with your pretty face and soft cheeks. Cheeks that were even softer as he gently cupped them, pressing the tip of his cock to the back of your throat.

The way that you whimpered, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth, is etched into his memory. If he could rewind time he’d do it over and over just to hear those same whimpers muffled by his cum filling your cheeks. You swallowed him so well, not spilling a drop.

“Such a good girl” he’d whispered, petting your hair as your head lay in his lap. Such a good, good girl. 

By the window, Seonghwa’s still sketching away. The level of intensity and focus on his face does wonders to make it appear as if the motion of his hand has even a shred of intent behind it. None of it means anything, just a half hearted attempt at busying a brain that keeps reminding him how he fucked you against the very window he leans upon. This exact spot actually. 

You, with your plush body and sweet voice had begged, as his lips met yours, “Please don’t stop.” It was pure bliss to have your nails digging into his forearms, the walls of your deliciously warm pussy clenching around him.

You were wet enough that your thighs were almost too slippery to grip when he parted them to sink in deeper. No girl has ever been that needy for him before, so desperate to be ruined by him. Fuck, he wants to ruin you. 

“I need a drink” Hongjoong huffs, rushing off to the kitchen. Drinking’s never been something he’s just done. He considers self medication through alcohol to be silly but what else is he meant to do? He needs something to overwhelm his palate and kill the nagging craving to taste you on his tongue.

You, with your bright eyes and innocent smile, had hopped your cute ass on the counter and let him drink from your pussy until he saw stars. How adorable you’d been, kicking your feet each time his tongue stimulated your sensitive clit, his fingers teasing your sweet spot. “One more for me” he cooed and you gave him exactly what he wanted. More.

It’s all any of them want now. More, more, more. They made a promise to each other that what happened last night could only ever happen again if you were all together. The four of you. Not three. Certainly not two. The boys would do with you what best friends do with all things, share, but sharing’s much easier said than done when you don’t truly want to. 

Seonghwa slams his book shut, snapping back to reality at a speed too dizzying for the others. “I need to go” Seonghwa announces, scrambling to shove his things into his bag. San sits up in the chair, popping his glasses back on.

“Go? Where are you going?”

“I, uh, I have to go look for something. I’ll see you guys later.”

Hongjoong steps back into the living room just in time to hear the door slam as Seonghwa exits. “Where’s he off to?” A question with only one logical answer that pisses San off the second it dawns on him.

“Where do you think?”

The scholarships aren’t nearly enough. They were enough to get you here but being able to stay? That’s a different story. And so you find yourself here on a Sunday evening, picking up hours at the university’s library to make some extra money.

It’s a grueling schedule. Weekdays waitressing at a five star restaurant, weekends at the library, and every waking hour outside of that spent with your face buried in your books. Well, almost every waking hour. Lately you’ve managed to find time for other things.

Wheeling a cart full of books down one of the aisles, you nearly run over some girl’s feet. “Hey, watch it!” she shouts, shooting you a look that says she wants to tear your head off. “I’m really sorry” you apologize, slinking to the side to let her squeeze past.

“These shoes cost more than your rent, you know that?” she spits before storming off in the other direction.

Everyone’s like that here, always throwing their money in your face. Mommy and daddy’s money anyway. You don’t have what they do, it’s like they can smell it on you, and they’ll never let you forget it. “These shoes cost more than your rent, you know that?” you mock, picking up a book to slip onto one of the shelves. “They’re fucking hideous anyway.” 

“Uh, hey, everything okay?” a voice asks from behind you. You jump, nearly tripping over one of the cart’s wheels. Seonghwa grabs you by the arm before you lose your footing. Your knight in shining armor. Well, a cardigan really but close enough, right?

“Oh my god, Seonghwa. You can’t sneak up on me like that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“It’s a library” he laughs, straightening out your shirt, “I thought we were supposed to be quiet.”

“Not that quiet! What are you doing here anyway?”

That came out a bit harsher than you intended. Thankfully Seonghwa finds it cute when you’re sassy. “Yunho told me you work here on weekends and I thought…I wanted to see you.” “See me?” you ask, the book now clutched in your arms like a stuffed animal.

Seonghwa moves between you and the cart, pinning you against one of the shelves. This position feels familiar, a flash of heat rushing over your body and settling between your legs. Seonghwa toys with the hem of your short skirt, his knuckles brushing your exposed thigh.

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm?”

“Working two jobs. Do you like it?”

“Honestly, I hate it.” You draw in a sharp breath when his fingertips touch the marks he left behind on you last night. Sneaking both hands beneath your skirt, he traces your hips, relishing in the fullness of them.

Your thighs part and he carefully eases his knee between them, the moist cotton of your panties all that separates your aching core from his slacks. Seonghwa leans in to nibble at your bottom lip, “Then quit.” “Hwa, you know I can’t, ah…” you squeak, the book tumbling to the ground as he slowly grinds you along his leg.

He kisses you tenderly, angling you forward to stimulate your clit in just the right way. Seonghwa can already feel you soaking through his pants. You get wet so easily for him and it eats away at his self control. “Quit” he repeats, “I can get you a job at one of my father’s offices. His secretaries there don’t really do anything. You can kind of just sit there and be pretty. I know you can do that.”

Letting go of your waist, he pulls back enough to watch how perfectly your tits sit as you ride his thigh. “Look at you, doing so well already.” 

The quiet one. That’s how Yunho described Seonghwa before you met him. He’s quiet but no more innocent than the others are. Never let that innocent exterior fool you, he has a switch and when it flips he’s someone you won’t even recognize.

That switch, you can see it flipping on and off. His eyes bright with admiration one second and darkening with lust the next. There’s something dangerous about him but you aren’t exactly harmless now, are you? 

“You’d do that for me?” you ask, taking his hand and pressing it to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, taking his thumb between your lips. “Of course I would. I’d…” he loses his train of thought as you start sucking his thumb, the rhythm of your hips picking up speed.

“Anything you want.”

You can feel his pulse quickening. See his face taking on a pink hue. Your breathing grows shallow, the tension building in your core making your body shudder. “So close” you whine, running his hand down to your neck, “I want you to make me cum.” 

Anything you want. Anything for you. Seonghwa holds you by the neck, his other hand slipping into your panties. “Cum for me then like a good girl. Like my good girl.”

There’s a chance someone could hear you. Between the splashing of his fingers in your juices and the moans that spill out from your lips onto his, there’s more than enough noise to draw a little attention. That’s what makes it hotter. What has his cock straining against his pants and your eyes glossing over as the tension finally snaps.

Ruin you, that’s what he wanted to do, and look at you now, coming undone so wonderfully. How can he be anything short of obsessed with you? 

“So gorgeous when you’re falling apart.”

“Only when I’m falling apart?” you ask, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder. Seonghwa wraps an arm around your waist, kissing you on the forehead.

“No,” he sighs, “And I think that might be the death of me.”

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 12

12 - Liar, Liar*

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc [vallie]

more: chp 11 // masterlist | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 14.7k (strap in)

Summary: Following Noah and Vallie's thrift shop adventure, Vallie faces the consequences of her actions. After the launch of their new music video, Vallie realizes she might not like what she wished for. A pivotal decision reshapes the group's dynamics, leading to a significant change in the connection between a specific pair.

warnings: alcohol, bratty noah, smoking, heartache, yearning, regret, jealousy, unprotected sex, cream pie x2, oral (f receiving), cum eating kinda?, angry nick but also soft nick???, fluffy???, she's just a girl ok, mediocre writing lol, sorry this has taken 500 years, my apology is that it's long as fuck, 18+ MDNI

Disclaimer - This story is AU since it does not follow actual timelines or events. The band here is still fairly small & does things entirely on their own with no other support.

Reminder; Minor band crossovers (greta van fleet / chase atlantic) to supply side characters :)

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

When Noah and I walk up the gravelly incline to the warehouse, the rest of the band and Bryan are all on their phones lounging on different surfaces - chairs with feet propped on tables, against the brick wall, spread out on the floor. Boredom was an understatement. 

“Well, took you guys long enough.” Grumbles Jolly. “What did you get lost picking out scarves?”

My heart skips a beat at the coincidental wording. “Sorry, we really had to dig to find anything.” I mumble quickly, throwing the plastic shopping bags on the ground.

“Well, did you find anything good?” Jolly asks.

“Oh, we found something good alright.” Noah replies, shoving his hand into a plastic bag to retrieve the cursed fedora.

I roll my eyes and playfully smack his arm, “Shut up.”

“No.” He says matter-of-factly, with a popped hip and a hand on his waist. “It’s your fault, you put it on my head.”

“Yeah whatever.” I laugh and wave off his silliness.

I suddenly feel all eyes in the room on us accompanied by an awkward stillness. Of course they’d be thrown off, we could barely be in a room together before we left, why wouldn’t this be strange?

I glance up for a split second before digging into the bags and find Nicholas’ eyes watching us intently. His brows low and eyes sharp.

In my tummy swirls a feeling so closely reminiscent of guilt, similar to when I was with Kras last night. But neither make any sense. Nicholas and I aren’t anything, it shouldn’t matter. Kras and I are just friends. And Noah and I definitely are not anything. And yet, here he is looking angry and here I am feeling guilty.

After handing out the thrifted clothes and a wardrobe change, the boys come out in their new clothes, and they look perfect. The pieces we chose embody each one of them flawlessly. They fit the direction Noah wants for the music video but they’re rather simple. Folio’s is the most basic in a plain black shirt, black jeans, and his sneakers. Jolly’s is a black long sleeve button down, tight black pants paired with his hefty combat boots. Noah’s outfit was centered around the black peacoat we found as the statement piece with a black turtleneck beneath it, black pants and boots. We even picked up something for Bryan even though he was staying behind the camera - he got a vintage Kodak t-shirt, which he thought was “rad as hell”. 

Since I showed up in last night’s sweats, I figured I’d pick up an outfit as well. I found a grey sundress. It’s something I would normally only wear in casual settings, but I wanted to be comfy and it was the only halfway cute thing in the thrift shop.

The outfit I picked out for Nicholas was the best one, but I may be biased. It’s a thin black sweater with thumb holes atop a black turtleneck paired with baggy, strappy pants and finished off with black leather combat boots.

With the new uniforms, the band and crew seem to have a reinvigorated morale. It did exactly what I needed it to do, it gave them the spark they needed to bring the music video to life. 

We spend our time running the song over and over while Bryan gets shots from all angles. I got some content for posting and even posed the boys for some social media trends, which they all hated except Folio, and Bryan in the background. Since I was done gathering content, I sat at the plastic picnic table on the far side of the warehouse diagonal from the makeshift stage while they continued to shoot slightly different variations.

I plug my phone and camera into my Macbook to import the photos and videos I took to begin editing them and schedule them for posting.

“Vallie.” I hear a voice call amongst mumbling between a take.

I snap up to match the voice to the source: Noah.

“What’s up?” I respond, half expecting to be met with some sort of criticism or snarky remark.

“Were you paying attention to this last take?” He questions, but not in an accusatory way that I’d normally anticipate, just genuine curiosity.

“A little, why?”

“What did you think of the intro?”

A hush blankets the room and the rest of them look between us as if they’d seen a ghost. I’m glad we’re finally kind of getting along but I wish he wouldn’t make it so obvious. Especially in front of Nicholas. The odd feeling in the room dances a chill up my arms leaving goosebumps behind.

“Oh um, I liked it? It was cool.” Truthfully, I’m not sure that I did like it, but I just wanted to move on from being in the spotlight.

He gives me a wide, genuine grin like a kid in the middle of a playground, “Sick, I thought so too.”

I glance over at Bryan, who is slowly but surely becoming my lifeline in these situations. He offers a ‘I don’t know either but just roll with it?’ look with a brow wiggle and a barely noticeable shrug.

Mid-shoot everyone needed some sort of touch up. I somehow had my job description expanded to include wardrobe and makeup.

The one I dreaded the most was Nicholas.

I walk over to him, mute, focusing my eyes straight forward which for me happens to be his chest. I keep my gaze away from his eyes as I fix the collar of his cardigan.

He too keeps his focus off of me.

“Sorry I acted like an ass earlier.” He says sounding partially sincere, partially grumpy. “It was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

I clear my throat. An apology was the last thing I expected and the last thing I deserve. “It’s okay.”

A quiet pause fills the small space between us.

“So, you’re seeing someone?” He questions casually but I can tell it’s anything but casual.

I press my lips together contemplating if I really want to commit this hard to the ruse. But Kras is right, and my gut is right. No matter how much I want to stay entangled with him, it can’t continue. I don’t know how well this action plan is going to work, but I have to try.

“Yes.” I lie with fake confidence. “Kind of.”

He takes a moment to process my response which makes me question how good of a job I did with lying. Finally, he nods, his eyes still locked on something past the opening of the warehouse.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” I sweeten the lie.

“I guess that’s a good thing then, you know, for our jobs and all.” His voice light, as if he’s purposefully making it seem more nonchalant than it is. I know I hurt him, I can hear it in his voice. Whether it was his heart or his ego that I hurt, I’m not sure but all I know is that we went too far. “It just would’ve been nice to know.”

The painful twist in my chest confirms that I made the right decision to stick to the plan. I'm already so invested in him that it hurts; I can’t imagine how much worse it would be if I let myself fall any deeper.

I swallow the very faint lump in my throat and flatten out the thin material resting on his chest. Spending another night with him was a bigger mistake than I realized because just the warmth of him beneath my fingertips makes me want to melt right into him. I wish I didn’t know what he felt like, what he sounded like, what he tasted like. Suddenly I want to take everything back. I want to unkiss him, unfuck him, unknow him. In the span of knowing them and being on their team, I’ve regretted it about 75% of the time but there, standing in front of him, it is a solid 110%.

I wish I had just heard them on the radio and found myself at a show, 

or met them in passing during industry events,

or maybe bumped into him in a coffee shop where he suggests his favorite latte,

or literally any other scenario that would grant me the luxury of just reaching up and kissing him without feeling confliction or guilt. 

The reality of the whole situation hits me all at once and my entire mood shifts abruptly, in a way I’ve never let happen while I work. I’m normally exceptionally skilled in the art of separating my emotions from most other things but this cuts through all of that. He lowered my walls more than anyone ever had and reached a part of me I’ve never let someone do before. I swallow hard and blink the burning in my eyes away. The last thing I need is for him to see my eyes full of tears. 

So, I do what I think makes the most sense. I yank each edge of my mouth into a tight-lipped smile and step back to hold out an overly professional hand, “Friends?” 

He nearly grimaces at the word and begrudgingly snakes his hand into mine, gripping it firmly and giving it a shake. “Whatever you want, Vallie.” He grumbles sarcastically before walking off back to the set. 

He leaves me with my hand vacant and my eyes blinking at the wall he just stood in front of. I knew he wasn’t happy with me, but I didn’t know we’d end up starting over.

The music video that Noah had fast tracked was finally finished regardless of what the others felt. It was filmed and edited by Bryan with Noah glued to his side the whole time to make sure it followed his “vision” for it perfectly. It was hyper tuned into the details and nuances Noah was looking to cultivate for the prematurely released song.

Two weeks later, I hit post on the music video with the band scattered around the rehearsing studio, celebrating with beers and laughter. I roll my eyes playfully at the happy, excited actions that ensue behind me but bite down on my lip to keep myself from smiling. While it’s not everything they or I wanted, it’s still a damn good video and I’m proud of them for it. 

All entanglements aside, it’s the first time that I’ve felt like I truly helped them achieve something great. Their growth and publicity had been steady but incredibly slow despite all of my best efforts. Their initial boom from the band going viral months ago plateaued. I’ve been chalking it up to the lack of content, but the faint fear of chronic stagnation has been creeping up my ribs every so often. It’s something I warned them from the beginning - “Anyone can go viral, but it won’t last.” I recall telling them at the very start. “Don’t get attached to the numbers.” I told them that it burns bright for a split second then gets snuffed out by the next big thing to come along. But they didn’t listen to me, and I can see the disappointment and fear worsening in Noah’s features with each day that passes. It’s all made me wonder if there was even a place in the scene for them, or if what their label is trying to accomplish is possible. It made me question my ability to execute the task handed to me.

I posted all of the music video promotions across all forms of media and posted some of the pre-filmed short form content onto TikTok and Instagram. “Alright well, your part is done now, I’m just gonna keep working.”

I stand, beginning to gather all the papers scattered over the table. “With all the teasing I posted for the video and all the extra content we filmed, engagement has gone up by about 5%. I estimate it going up by about another 10-15% for the next couple of weeks while the music video gains traction.” I dropped the edges of the paperwork against the table a couple times to align them into a neat stack. “You’ve gained a significant amount of followers as well, at least compared to before the promo content.”

“Aw Vallie,” Bryan throws an arm around my shoulders pulling me into a side hug. “Is this your way of saying we did a good job?” 

A small smile tugs at one edge of my lips, “I’m just saying that the music video is projected to do really well.” I sink my teeth into my lip again, this time to keep from speaking but it fails. “And, I think you guys did a great job.” I rush the words out at the end.

The large grin is nearly identical across the five boys' faces, each one unique in their features, but the glow of finally birthing a new project is potent in all their smiles.

As they mingle about, I return my focus to my screen and sit back down. Likes and comments begin to pour in, faster than expected. The promo posts over the past couple weeks built up a significant amount of anticipation and excitement, I just didn’t expect it to gain momentum so fast. Compared to other clients, this engagement is nothing, a couple hundred comments within the first 30 minutes, but for them, it’s huge. I decide to keep it to myself for now to not get their hopes up too high since the numbers could plateau quickly. 

But before I exit completely, my eyes catch a couple comments that churn my stomach unexpectedly.

nobody told me the singer was so hot !!

damn he’s fine as fuck

oh my god Noah is so !!!!

the whole band is fine wtf 

god that bassist is sooo sexy

My eyes narrow and my teeth involuntarily clench at the last comment. A dull ache throbs in my chest at the words, a feeling I’m not quite sure I’ve ever experienced before. 

My plan to leverage their looks was working. This is exactly what I wanted, what I held meetings for, what I fought for, what I was hired for - so why does it suddenly feel like a loss?

I glance at Nicholas, who’s joking with the others, his face lit up with a carefree smile. My heart aches but, this is exactly what I wanted for him. For them. Yet, the jealousy gnaws at me, sharp and unrelenting. I want to be happy for them, I should be happy for them. But each comment feels like a tiny dagger, reminding me of what I’ve deprived myself of.

I exhale and close the lid to my laptop. I tap along the table just trying to shake my head from whatever confusion is clouding it. I just need to get out.

The group talks amongst themselves as they celebrate, and I inevitably fade into the background. I start gathering all my belongings to throw into my tote bag to hopefully make a quiet exit.

“You liked the music video?” A voice startles me from across the round table. 

I look up to find Noah. I quickly glance to the red solo cup he’s holding carefully in his hand. It makes me wonder what’s in it and if it will lead to the same aftermath I've seen before with a drunken Noah. It’s only when I look around that I realize that each of them has a drink in hand and they’ve put music on. 

“Yeah.” I shrug, “I think you guys did good.” 

“We, you mean.” He corrects.

“We?” 

“Yeah. You helped pick out the outfits and did all the promo stuff, did you not?” He raises a brow. 

“Yeah? I guess I did.” 

Noah rests his arm on a nearby high-top table, taking a sip of his drink. “We made a deal, you and I a while ago, do you remember it?” He questions.

I silently filter through our meetings in my mind. While working together we’ve made many deals, but I land on the one I know he’s talking about and a smile creeps across my lips. “‘I’ll do my job well, if you do yours.’” 

An unexpected wide grin pulls at his mouth, “Well, I think we both did our jobs well here.” 

He was right, we did. Looking back at the meeting just a few months ago seems so juvenile now. Noah was so angry about me being brought on to the crew and while I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily thrilled that I’m here now, I can tell that I’ve grown on him. I proved myself to him, at least a little bit. 

“Yeah, we did.” I nod with a genuine smile, “Proud of us.” 

He wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze, smiling down at me. “Me too.”

I leaned into him and caught a glimpse of Nicholas watching us both. The look on his face was flat and filled with an unreadable expression. 

My eyes flicker down immediately to avoid him then pull away from Noah’s grasp. He then goes on to ramble about music and the album, I’m not quite sure why he’s over here talking to me and not to the rest of them but, here I am. His words fade into the background as I look past him to spot Nick again. This time he’s caught up in some excited conversation between Brian and Folio. His wide smile meets his eyes filling them with such happiness as he laughs. His tattooed fingers interrupt the condensation on a beer bottle and his hair is gathered up into a low bun. He looks breathtaking and it suddenly fills me with a sadness I don’t think I’ll be able to beat here. 

I’ll never have the opportunity to be with him at a party like this, or out to dinner or have a normal, run-of-the-mill relationship. There’s a bit of heartbreak in watching him ensue in an interaction we may never have now that I’ve ruined everything.

But I ruined it for a reason, my brain reminds me.

I catch Nicholas’s eye. His smile falters, and for a moment, I think he senses my unease. I quickly look away, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The ache that makes home in my ribcage does not care for reason; its only concern is pain. It suddenly becomes unbearable, and I need to leave, now. I need to go home, I need to fucking get of out here.

 “I’m sorry, Noah but I have to go.” I hurriedly throw my bag over my shoulder and snatch my keys.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?” Noah asks, concerned.

“Yeah, I just… I need to go,” I say, my voice wavering as I avoid his gaze. “I have an important meeting I have to be home for.” My hand tightens around my keys so hard that the jagged edges dig into the flesh of my palm.

I stand up, the room spinning slightly as I do, despite not having anything to drink. I head for the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. I can feel Nicholas’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look back.

Pushing through the front door, I take a deep breath of the cool night air, but it does little to calm the storm inside me. I walk quickly to my rental car, fumbling with the keys as tears blur my vision. Finally, I manage to unlock the door and slide into the driver’s seat. 

As I drive home, the tears flow like rivers down my cheeks. The ache in my chest is relentless, a constant reminder of what I’ve given up and the lies I’ve told. I made my choice, and now I have to live with it. But the pain doesn’t care about reason or decisions. It only knows how to hurt.

I don’t stop driving until I reach my Airbnb. I stumble inside, dropping my bag on the floor and collapsing onto the couch. The tears flow freely now as I sink into the furniture, wishing things could be different but knowing they’ll never be. As much as I’d like to, I can’t undo my decision nor change the reasons behind it. As long as I work for them, Nick and I can never be anything more than just friends. Maybe in another life, there’s a him and I that work, but it’s not this one.

It doesn’t matter how much it hurts seeing him at events, or getting comments in videos, or even just being around him. He’s not mine and he can’t be. I’m not what he wants anyway, his career is just taking off the last thing he needs is to be entangled with someone who wants more than just sex. Is that even what I want? I barely even have time to fucking cry in the car, how would I balance a relationship?

Mourning the loss of what could’ve been is hard, but an inevitable breakup would be worse. However, just because I chose the lesser of two evils doesn’t mean it’s easy.

I glance at the time on my watch and scramble when I realize I’m late for my meeting. Unfortunately, I didn’t lie to Noah about that.

Flipping open my laptop, I’m right on time when the zoom call rushes in. I wipe the remnants of my tears and allow myself one more sniffle before answering.

The bright, shining faces of my original clients light up the screen. With drinks and cigars in hand, they greet me with their usual exuberance. They’re getting one last party in before they leave for tour soon. It’s the first tour I haven’t joined them on since working for them. The realization that I’m not going with them mingled with the feelings I just ran away from only worsens the pain in my torso. There’s nothing more I wish to do than to just run off with them to Europe and forget all about this mess with Nick. But I have too much on my plate to be touring with them right now, so I’m working remotely for them temporarily.

Their naturally cheery demeanors lift my spirits, and while it is still a work call, they always seem to make work fun. It makes me wish even more that I was going with them. Working for them has always been easy and enjoyable. The stark contrast between them and Omens is jarring. While we do have a longer history, Greta has always felt comforting, uplifting and loving – like family. I always feel valued and appreciated, and I never have to question my belonging with them.

Omens, on the other hand, has been nothing but complicated, painful, and uncomfortable. Instead of feeling like I’m part of something, I often feel like I’m navigating through a minefield between Noah’s volatility and Nick’s complexity. It’s hard to feel motivated when the environment is so hostile, and it leaves me questioning my place and purpose. Up until recently that is – things seem to be looking up now that Noah and I are getting along.

Comparing the two bands makes me long for the simplicity and warmth of Greta even more. The comfort and camaraderie I immediately feel when answering the zoom only highlights the cold, challenging reality of working with Omens. It’s a reminder of what I’m lacking and a painful acknowledgment of the complication of my current situation. The situation I put myself in.

Yet, Noah’s words ring in my ears, “We did our jobs well.” Perhaps it’s not as bleak as it once was. The memory of our truce plants a seed of hope in my chest. Maybe Bryan was right, that they just need time to come around.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” The bassist, Sam, jokes, pulling me out of my thoughts. The bright white of my screen flashing on my pale face in the darkness of my living room can’t be doing me any favors.

“You need a drink, Val?” Jake, the other long-haired guitarist asks, raising an enticing drink in a short glass.

“Maybe a smoke? You are in California after all.” The shaggy-haired singer, Josh, teases.

I force a smile and shake my head. “I would kill for both of those right now. Just a fucking exhausting day.”

“I know, our girl’s makin’ it big, taking on new bands, new quests.” Jake states in a dramatic, faux-English accent. “On to new horizons.” His arm splays out theatrically to a non-existent skyline.

“Leavin’ us behind!” Sam adds loudly in a whiny tone as he takes a sip of his cocktail.

The last words shoving a sword into my gut. Maybe Nick isn’t the only loss I’m mourning. Working for Greta has consumed my entire life for years, they’re the closest thing to family I’ve got. Perhaps not being engulfed in them constantly has left me lonely.

I roll my eyes lightheartedly and shake my head, “I could never leave you guys, you know that.” Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “How are you guys feeling about the tour?”

Their excitement is infectious, and I find myself relaxing a bit as they talk about their plans and the cities they’ll visit. For a moment, I forget about Nick and the tangled mess of emotions he brings.

“Hey, Val!” Josh shouts, raising a glass snapping me out of my haze. “We’re going to miss you on this one!”

“Yeah, it won’t be the same without you,” The quiet drummer, Danny, chimes in.

I force a smile, trying to push the sadness aside. “I’ll miss you guys too. But I’ll be there in spirit, and we’ll keep in touch. You know I’ll be checking in every day.”

They laugh and raise their glasses in a toast, their contagious energy making it a little easier to breathe.

The boys filter out, saying their goodbyes to entertain the other guests at their party.

“Yeah, I’ll catch up to you guys later. I have to ask Vallie about something.” Sam waves the boys away.

He turns in his chair to face me, a look of concern washed over his face as he tucks a chunk of long hair behind his ear. “Are you okay? You seem a bit off?” He asks softly.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. "I'm fine, Sammy. Just a lot going on."

He looks at me for a long moment, his puppy-dog eyes filled with understanding. "You know you can talk to me, right? If you ever need anything. We're all going to miss you on this tour, but we understand why you can't come."

I nod, "I know. Thanks, Sam," I reply, with a tight smile. "I appreciate it."

Under other circumstances, I would maybe try to talk to them but they’re so excited for Europe, I can’t possibly weigh them down with anything serious.

He gives me a reassuring smile. "Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need to vent or anything, just call. We're all here for you, we love you a lot."

"Thanks," I say again, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I will. I love you guys too."

With one last nod, Sam ends the call, leaving me alone with my thoughts and letting reality crash back in. I close my laptop and lean back in my seat, staring at the other side of the vacant couch. The room feels emptier than before, the silence more suffocating. I can’t shake the feeling of being left behind, both professionally and personally.

I set my laptop on the coffee table and pull a blanket over my body in hopes that it would help me disappear. I curl up in the corner of the couch with my knees up to my chest. I haven’t felt heartache like this since high school and it’s over something that was never even serious. My mind keeps drifting back to Nick, to the hurt and anger in his eyes when I pushed him away. I know it was the right decision, but the pain is parasitic in a way I was never prepared for.

I blink at the blank wall in front of me. I’m not home, I’m not with friends or anyone I know. I work for a band that half hates me most days, I fell for a boy I can’t have and I’m staying in a pay-by-weekly Airbnb. I’m alone in a city I hate, in a home that’s not my own with people who barely like me. That’s when I realize that perhaps heartache isn’t the only pain that sits heavy in my heart – it’s also the weight of loneliness that’s been consuming me, rotting me from the inside out.

Only when I acknowledge the seclusion is when it wraps around me like a suffocating shroud, seeping into my very core and eroding my sense of self.

I close my eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh, trying to steady my racing thoughts. I have to keep moving forward, despite the overwhelming difficulty and the sadness in my bones. There’s a faint flicker of hope buried somewhere beneath the despair, a small, stubborn, workaholic part of me that refuses to give up. For now, I hold on to that glimmer, however faint, and vow to take things one step at a time.

This was the 4th rehearsal in a row that I’ve attended this week, and while it never gets old watching their sets, the content becomes repetitive. So, while the boys are playing and Bryan snaps shots of them, I scroll through Zillow.

I don’t even notice that they’re done until Nicholas is beside me cracking a water bottle open. “What’re you lookin’ at?” He asks. Slowly but surely, we’ve been making our way back up to being friendly, despite the break down I had weeks ago after the music video launch. If I just focus on the work, I can almost stifle down our history. Almost.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” I chuckle but it soon fades with the frustration that’s built up over the past couple days. “Augh, I have to find an apartment or something because this Airbnb is getting so expensive. My other client’s tour just started, and I just took on another band, so I’m stuck here for a while. But I can’t fucking find an apartment building that doesn’t have a waitlist before next fall.”

“Shit sucks around here.” Chimes in Jolly from the corner taking a sip of his Gatorade.

“Here let me see.” Nick swivels my laptop towards him before I have a chance to stop him. He holds his tongue between his lips with his brows furrowed, like he’s focused on some super spy mission. He scrolls for a while, adds some filters, scrolls, takes more filters out, then turns the laptop back to me. “Ta da!” He smiles his signature grin and it’s nice to see it in my direction again.

“Whoa, how the fuck did you find that!” My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I scroll through the listing, it having almost everything I was looking for. “Oh my god, they’re doing a showing for a perfect place right now, I gotta go.” I hastily begin packing my things up, haphazardly throwing all my scattered belongings into my tote.

“Whoa whoa,” Halts Jolly, “You’re not going alone.”

I furrow my brows at him, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Listen, do you know how unsafe it is for a woman to go to realty showings alone?” His voice is so filled with genuine concern and a splash of paranoia.

“You need to stop watching so much true crime dude.” Folio rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, he’s obsessed.” Bryan adds with a pointed thumb towards the long-haired man. 

I blink up at Jolly who’s face is dead serious. “We’re coming with you.”

I normally wouldn’t let men tell me what to do or how to do it, but maybe Jolly is right. Men are dangerous especially around here and I have also heard horror stories about women going to check out a house and it turning out to be a sketchy place with an equally creepy man.

“Okay.” I nod. “Fine.”

Looking over the four of them, I realize that Noah had already disappeared. He’s been cutting out immediately after each rehearsal, so I think nothing of it.

“I got nothing better to do.” Shrugs Nicholas. I don’t look too much at him because if I did, I would notice the strain behind his eyes - one that looks both pained and conflicted. 

Arriving at the open house, I walk around the small loft, letting my fingers trail over the cracked railing of the stairs. The apartment is smaller, dingier and dustier than advertised. When I make it upstairs, the 4 are up there already. I catch them looking unimpressed, almost disgusted at the place but immediately feign impression for my sake.

“It’s…pretty nice, Vallie.” Says Folio, with a forced smile.

“Oh, spare me, it’s a dump.” I sigh, defeated. “The asking price is like double with all the fees and shit. It’s ridiculous.” I rub two fingers into my temple. “I don’t know what I’m gonna fucking do.”

There’s a bit of silence filled with pitiful faces from the group. Nicholas’ eyes look focused but lost in thought. Before any of them could speak, Bryan perks up. 

“My old room in the house is empty since I moved out last year. Why doesn’t she just move in with you guys?” He suggests as if it’s the most obvious answer. 

My mouth nearly falls open at the insane suggestion. The trio’s focus snaps to him with the most shocked and betrayed looks on their faces, brows raised and jaws open. 

“What?” I ask for clarification, because he couldn’t possibly be serious.

Bryan ignores their reactions. “Exactly what I said. It just makes sense? You’re with them all the time.”

“I uh-“ I falter, somewhat overwhelmed with the four of them looking at me. “I mean, it really seems like that’s a group decision…”

“I’m cool with it.” Folio surprisingly speaks up first, “We do have the spare room and we could use the extra rent money. You take a lot of Ubers to get to us anyway, so.”

For once Folio seemed to be cooperative, nice even. Maybe they are warming up to me afterall.

Jolly sighs heavily, “They have good points. It would be convenient but… Noah’s not going to be happy.”

Anxiety wins over the excitement dying to bloom in my stomach as I look over and meet Nick’s gaze. His eyes contain the same pained and confused look as before. He’s conflicted.

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what Noah wants. He’s outnumbered 4-1.” Nick snaps. “She needs a place, and we have one.”

I tug at my lip and contemplate my options. This would be the easiest and cheapest path. “Okay fine. Just for now. I’m gonna keep looking so I don’t overstay my welcome.” I meet eyes with each one sternly. “Thank you.”

I’m grateful for the offer but I can’t help but be nervous about being so close to Nicholas all of the time. The room I’d be staying in is the empty room between Noah and Nicholas’ rooms. I’d be between the two I would least like to be around. I contemplate backing out for a brief moment but quickly remember how much the Airbnb is costing me weekly. As much as I value my independence and solitude, it’s just not worth the cost and isn’t sustainable. The last thing I ever want to do is live with them, but it seems to be the only good option right now.

A week later, the boys help carry the last of my boxes up the stairs while I warn them about how if they break anything they’ll be paying for it.

Nick, Jolly, and Folio are all out of breath as they set down my boxes.

“Jesus, how do you have so many boxes of stuff from that tiny Airbnb?” Folio asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

I shrug, “I had some of my stuff from home shipped out to me, since I’m staying in Cali longer than I expected.”

Jolly and Folio filter out leaving me alone with Nicholas. I’m immediately on my toes around him. Just being in the house with him is difficult. The only other two times I’ve been here, we’ve slept together - once on the couch downstairs and another in the room beside us now. It’s hard not thinking about having him that way again with those reminders all around me. The memories pack a punch not just in my core but in my heart as well. We’ve just started to get back to normal after our little falling out. But what even is back to normal with us? Were we ever really normal?

“Do you need help unpacking?” He asks though it doesn’t seem forced or ingenuine.

I ponder the offer as I shift on my feet but ultimately shake my head. “Not now. I don’t know if I’m going to fully unpack yet, since I’m still looking for another place.”

He nods, seeming somewhat unhappy about my response. “Okay well, if you need help with anything, let me know.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you.” I scratch my arm anxiously and pause before I speak again. “I feel bad… I know Noah’s unhappy because I’m here.”

Nicholas sucks in a breath. “Yeah, he’s not happy. But I don’t really know what else to say to him. Maybe you should talk to him.”

I let out a laugh. “Yeah fucking right. I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to talk to right now.”

“You never know. It might help.” He steps towards the door to leave. “I think we’re gonna order Chinese for dinner. You cool with that?”

I nod and he reciprocates before leaving the room downstairs. 

I take a deep breath and shake out the nerves from my hands as I walk to Noah’s door. I give it a knock and wait for a response.

“Come in.” He calls and I peek through the cracked door.

He rolls his eyes and glares at me. “Great, it’s you.”

“You know you don’t have to be like that.” I say calmly while I push the door open more and lean against the door frame.

He doesn’t even look at me and keeps his eyes on the TV across from his bed where he lays. His hands are diligently working on a gaming controller. I can’t help but notice how his long-tattooed fingers rapidly and strategically click on the buttons. Something about it creates a slight buzz between my legs.

“You just invited yourself into my home. I think I have some right to talk to you any way I want to.” He retorts.

“I didn’t invite myself; I was invited. By your bandmates, your best friends. But you know that already. You’re just being an asshole.”

“Again, this is my house. I can be an asshole in my house if I want to. This is what you signed up for. But you know that already.” He mocks me with my own words.

I try my best to keep my bubbling anger from spilling. We had been doing so well since the thrift store, but it seems that we’re back to square one all over again.

“I’m not trying to be here forever, alright? This is temporary. Like I want to be here any more than you want me to be. Believe it or not, this isn’t exactly a walk in the park for me either.” I sigh, trying to keep my composure. “I’m just trying to make the best of it while I’m here, okay? Can we agree to just be civil?”

He glares at me, but I know he knows that I’m right. “No promises.”

As I look around my new room, I suddenly feel closed in by the towers of boxes that surround me. I should’ve waited until after I signed some sort of apartment lease before having some of my stuff shipped from New York. I was just homesick for a place of my own again, that I wanted my belongings outside of what fits inside a couple carry-on suitcases. I’ve been living out of suitcases for longer than I’ve ever wanted and so maybe unpacking some of my clothes and things wouldn’t hurt much. Afterall, I could always just repack them. When I stand and find that some of the towers are even taller than me, I recognize that I might need help afterall. 

I find myself in front of Nick’s door and a nervous feeling swirls in my stomach that I try to ignore. 

This is a bad idea, I think to myself.

But it’s too late. My knuckles have already met the door. 

After a couple moments, Nick opens the door with a gaming headset pulled off his ear and a controller in his hand. It’s clear by the way his eyebrows drop that he was expecting anyone but me. The look is enough to make me back out of my own decision. 

“Oh, sorry to bother you, you’re obviously busy, nevermind!” I ramble quickly in a way I rarely do - but I rarely feel the way I do with him. Mid-turn to get back to my room he unexpectedly grasps my wrist, not hard but not soft either, enough to keep me in place. 

“What’s up?” He asks and I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or genuinely curious. 

“Oh, um, well, you see,” 

Fucking get it together 

“I was going to ask if I could take you up on your offer? To help me unpack?” I already regret the words before they leave my mouth. “But if you’re busy it’s no big deal!!” 

“I, uh, yeah. Sure. Let me just finish this round and I’ll come help.” He begins pulling his headset back on before I can fully answer.

“Oh, yeah sure. Take your time!” 

He closes his door, and I dart to my room, immediately pacing the small amount of floor I have available.

Why did I fucking do that?

“You okay?” His voice speaks from the doorway where he’s propped up against. 

I nearly jump out of my skin, not expecting him there so soon. It makes me wonder if he had just quit his game instead of finishing it like he said. 

“Oh, yeah yeah.” I wave him off. “I always get nervous with moves.” 

It was a lie. With my job, I’ve had to get used to moving often, so it doesn’t phase me any more. But with the shake in my voice, I know it wasn’t a great sell. 

“Right.” He replies skeptically, pushing himself off the frame. “What did you need help with?”

“I need that box up there.” I point to the box above my head. “And that one.” I gesture to the one right beside it at the same height. “And that one.”

He chuckles at how the boxes seem like skyscrapers to me, “Okay sure.” 

He pulls each one down with ease. 

“Anything else?” He asks. 

I sink down to the floor behind one of the large boxes. “I’m just gonna start unpacking these, if you wanna help.” I shrug up at him. 

Nick looks over at another box, grabbing something before handing it out to me. “I think you might need this.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks at the mistake, “Thank you.” I lift up and take the box cutter from him. 

I thought that would be the limit of his contribution but to my surprise, he sits down across from me. When I give him a confused look he simply jokes, “I’m really interested in what the fuck are in all these boxes.”

I bite down on my bottom lip to keep a grin from spreading across my lips. After our conversation at the music video shoot, this is the last thing I expected him to do. 

I’m still sat on the floor with half empty boxes while Nick acts as the fuel to the operation, putting things wherever I direct him. He slides a chunk of books into a bookshelf that was left behind. Books are always the first thing I like to unpack after the necessities. They're so personal and really give a space a real essence of you. I’m only unpacking my favorites to display for now since I don’t know how long my stay will be.

“You sure do have a lot of books about pirates?” He states quizzically, with an arched brow and a chuckle. 

“Oh,” I laugh, “Yeah, one of my clients really loves them for some reason.” I gesture to the books he just shelved. “I get one of those every Christmas. Those and a box of fancy cigars.”

His eyes look over the spines of the grandiose black leather books. “You’ve been with them a long time.” He observes each one, then looks over at me. “6 Christmases.” 

I blink up at him because there’s no way it’s been 6 years already. Logically, I knew I’ve accumulated a large stack of those books, but it isn’t until now that it clicks. “Wow. You’re right. I hadn’t thought about it like that.” 

“They’re lucky to have you.” He says, crouching down to get more books. “You’ve done so good for us so far, I can’t imagine what your main act gets.” 

The statement feels almost double edged, though it doesn’t seem that he intended it that way. It’s simple and meant to be flattering but it just settles a guilt in my bones. It sounds like he believes that Omens aren’t a priority, which isn’t true. 

“It’s not like that.” I scoff, handing him another set of non-pirate books.

“Oh sure, as if you don’t prioritize Harry Styles over us.” He shoots back playfully.

The Harry bit has gone so far that it makes me wonder if they truly believe it, it would be hilarious if they did. 

“You know I don’t manage him. Wish I did though.” I laugh, shaking my head. I grab another couple books and tug at my lip contemplating whether I should start some lighthearted competition. “You know… Noah guessed my ‘mystery client’.” 

A mischievous smirk blooms on my lips when Nick’s brows raise with an, “Oh did he now?” 

I nod, “Yep! Gonna have to step up your game I guess.” I shrug jokingly.

“Well, I’m either gonna have to go shake him down or,” He points to the room next door with the box cutter then looks at the mess around us. “Or I’m just gonna have to keep unpacking until I figure it out.” 

A giggle escapes me and a warmth blooms in my tummy. I hate that this is how my body reacts to him, but I quickly snuff it out. “I guess so.” 

As he continues to help me, the room overflows with laughter, and I can’t remember ever having fun unpacking. I try not to dwell on the way I feel when I look at him for too long. If I can just push aside the flutter in my chest when he crinkles his nose, or when he smiles wide and sparkles fill his eyes, or when he makes my name sound like music — if I can just move past all of that, then maybe living here won’t be so bad. Perhaps friendship with Nick wouldn’t be so difficult if it looks like this. 

The first week was awkward and uncomfortable and foreign, but the boys acclimated faster than I imagined - which, thinking about it now, made sense. They’d spent the better half of their lives being forced to live with random people for unforeseen periods of time. They just moved around me, and I moved around them, we all were on different schedules and busy doing other things better than paying attention to each other. Outside of rehearsals or meetings, I rarely saw them. The boys have an affinity for the nighttime while I’ve been operating on three different world clocks due to my other clients touring in different countries. 

I found that juggling three bands when I was barely managing two, was becoming quite taxing. I usually pride myself on my work ethic and multi-tasking skills, but it’s wearing on me in ways I’ve never experienced before. My sleep schedule is basically nonexistent, having to be awake for California, Europe, and Australia times simultaneously. I work between cat naps and run off of at least 4 cups of coffee daily. While work has been miserable, it’s definitely helped keep my mind distracted.

After a much-needed shower and a fresh set of button-down pajamas, I follow the smell of pizza downstairs. I find the boys gathered around the kitchen.

“Hey Val.” Folio smiles then falters, “You look fucking exhausted.” He shakes his head apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just - help yourself, there’s plenty. Noah can put away like three pies on his own.” He chuckles nervously, pushing past me to the living room. 

“Think of it as your belated welcome party.” Jolly says before taking a bite, leaning against the counter. 

“Thanks.” I smile but it doesn’t meet my eyes when I notice Nick remained silent and Noah’s absent.

Jolly nudges my shoulder as he walks out of the kitchen, “Noah’s picking out a movie for us, if you wanna join.” 

“Cool.” I nod, fidgeting with my fingers. As much as I’d love to protest wasting my time, all I need to do right now is sit and turn my brain off for an hour or two. 

“Can’t guarantee it’ll be any good if Noah’s picking.” He calls over his shoulder. 

“Hey!” Shouts Noah from the couch. 

The edges of my lips curl up slightly at the interaction but quickly fall. Even though it's been about a week, this is the first actual night of us all together. It’s only then that it settles in my bones the reality of the move.

I precariously pluck a slice from a half-eaten pie and plop it on a paper plate. “You uh,” I thumb over my shoulder. “Stayin’ for the movie?”

He pushes himself off the granite counter. “I was planning on it, yeah.” He peels another slice from the round and places it on his already full plate. He’s in a dark hoodie for a band I’ve never heard of with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, showing off all the beautiful ink on his arms. I try not to let my eyes linger too long on the way his fingers fold the slice in half. “You?” 

I steal a water bottle from the fridge and lean against the counter. “Yeah, if he picks a good movie.” I tease. 

He nods and makes his way out of the kitchen. 

I shake my head to wake myself up some more and meet the rest of them in the living room. My feet are the first to freeze when my eyes land on the screen. Noah chose the same indie horror movie that Nick and I had chosen the night he stayed in with me. How he managed to find and decide on the same random movie we did, I’m not sure. What I am sure of is the way my heart feels like it fell into my stomach. My hand grips the plate, and my eyes instinctively search for Nick. His gaze meets mine, the look in his eyes about matches my own before he hardens it. His jaw clenches and he focuses back on finding his place on the couch. 

When I finally make my way over, I find there’s only one seat left between Noah and Nicholas. I take a silent but deep inhale before squeezing between them. The close proximity to Nicholas sends a familiar, anxious thrill through me, but I push it aside, trying to focus on the moment. We’re friends now. Colleagues. I have to keep reminding myself of that. We’ve only ever been colleagues.

“Alright, everyone shut up.” Noah waves a lanky arm around with the remote clutched in his hand. “Movie time!” 

Folio reaches up and flips the lights off to cast an eerie darkness across the room, perfect for the mood of the movie. As the opening credits roll, my heart drops sharply and makes the idea of the pizza on my plate nauseating. The memory hits me like a wave, threatening to pull me under. I can see it so clearly in my head - us sharing two different kinds of chips, Doritos and Cheetos. I can hear the storm that raged that night, the one that kept him from leaving. I remember vividly the conversation we had about having that team-building party. I can hear him promising that the boys would come around. I blink quickly to keep tears from spilling down my cheeks. The last thing I need is to cry in front of them. 

Noah nudges me with his elbow. “You okay? You look a little pale.” He asks with a smirk, teasing me as if I was already scared fifteen minutes into the movie. In the corner of my eye, I can see Nick glance over at us, trying to disguise the fact he’s obviously eavesdropping. 

“Yeah, just... tired.” I half-lie, giving him a weak smile while keeping my eyes on the tv.

“Sure, scaredy cat.” He laughs, returning his focus to the screen.

The movie continues, and I’m transported back to that rainy night. I wasn’t nervous that entire night until we were sitting criss-crossed next to each other watching this specific scene before the first jumpscare. The flutter of nerves didn’t find home in my belly until we both jolted at the perfectly timed jumpscare and our knees ended up pressed together for the rest of the night. I remember the way his hand brushed against mine, the way we laughed and screamed at all the right moments. Sitting here now, with him so close yet so far, is torture. 

As the film progresses, I can’t help but notice Nicholas shifting slightly in his seat. His arm brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I hope no one else notices my reaction. It’s jumpy and juvenile, the way we both try our best not to have any part of our body touching for too long. 

Halfway through the movie, a particularly frightening scene makes everyone scream and laugh at each other’s fear. Nicholas turns to me, and for a brief moment, our eyes meet. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze, something that tells me he remembers too. But then he looks away, and the moment vanishes.

The rest of the movie is a blur. I’m too focused on the memories, the emotions, and the painful reality that the past is just that—the past. When the credits finally roll, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and everything is suffocating and tight. 

Folio reaches up from his seat in the recliner and flicks the light back on. “Jesus fucking christ, Noah.”

“What the fuck.” Echoes Jolly.

Noah grins widely, obviously proud of his peculiar choice. “You’re welcome.” 

“It was great.” I rush the words out and quickly push myself off the couch. “I need to get some air. Excuse me.”

A cackle erupts from Noah, “Musta scared the shit out of her.” 

As I speed to the front door, I hear someone smack him with a pillow and Nick’s voice telling him not to be an ass.

I nearly burst through the front door and find salvation in gripping the porch railing. For a moment I question if I might actually get ill. Never in my adult life have I ever felt such visceral agony over another human being, nonetheless a man. The cool night air brings a welcome relief and finally I feel like I can suck in a full breath.

I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear the door open behind me and my heart races when Nick appears in my peripheral. Fuck. 

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” I reply, my voice almost trembling.

He pulls something from his pocket, flipping the top open and holding out a box of Newports to me. “Want one?” 

I sigh, contemplating it even though I haven't touched a cigarette since college, but god do I need it now. “Thanks.” I pluck a cig from the box and place it between my lips. I cup the end from the wind while he flicks the lighter for me. The second it’s sizzling and lit I take a much-needed deep inhale, letting the nicotine fill every gap in my lungs giving me a split second of reprieve. 

I close my eyes as I exhale, hoping the smoke would take the pain that sits in my chest. For a moment, we stand there in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. The sounds of the night filled the quiet, frogs croaking and far off traffic from the city. 

He steps closer, close enough that I can feel his warmth and the smoke of his cigarette. “I remember that night, you know.”

I pause, swallowing hard. “Me too.”

The ache in my chest is palpable, like it sits between each individual rib. I feel it in my bones, in my veins, in my fucking marrow. 

When I made the decision to distance myself, to hurt him, I thought it was the best decision for us all. I had no idea it would hurt this bad. It hardly seems like a good idea now. 

Every part of my body tenses up like a muscle throbbing in pain. My index and middle fingers involuntarily squish the cigarette, and my fists tighten. I have no reason to feel this way, I did this. 

“Val,” he says, his voice breaking through my turmoil. “We never really… talked.”

I bite my lip hard, the cigarette trembling between my fingers. “What’s there to talk about, Nick?” I can’t bear to look up at him. 

“Us, Vallie.” He says more sternly this time, turning to me fully. “You just shut me out. And I got upset so I walked away, but we didn’t talk about it.” 

Of course, the only man I fall for is the one that actually wants to talk about his feelings. 

“We made a choice, Nick.” I grind my teeth to ward off tears, keeping my gaze focused on a far off tree. 

He shakes his head, stepping even closer. “No, you made a choice. And I went along with it because I thought it was what you wanted. But standing here now like this… I can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake.”

I close my eyes and exhale. All I want to do is give in to him, tell him he’s right, that I did make a mistake. But my reasoning and logic remains the same. 

The words hang in the air, heavier than the smoke around us. I don’t dare look up at him, tears blurring my vision. “Maybe I did. But we can’t. And I told you,” I pause, giving myself one final second to rethink my decision. “I’m seeing someone.”

He snuffs his cigarette out on the wood railing then grasps my shoulder harshly, turning my body to face him. “If you’re going to lie to me, at least do it to my face.”

I drop my own cigarette from the sudden action, and he quickly stomps it out for me. My eyes widen at his words and his shift in demeanor. I blink up at him and shake my head. “I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are.” He takes a step forward causing me to step backwards, closing me into the porch railing. His hand finds my jaw holding it firmly in place, analyzing me with furrowed brows. It runs an ice-cold shiver down my spine. “I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice.”

My chest rises and falls rapidly. “I am, seeing someone Nick. I’m happy.” I lie through my teeth even though it’s useless. 

“No, you’re not, Vallie.” His words are sharp and intentional. “Look at you.” He gestures over my body. “You’re shaking through a cigarette just because you’re standing next to me.” 

“God.” A tear slips down my cheek and I try to take a breath, but I feel even more suffocated than before. “Fuck, Nick.” I harshly push him away. I look between us and still for a moment before tears prickle my eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t fucking do this.”

I rush past him, through the front door, and don’t stop running until I close my bedroom door behind me. I slump against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor. The weight of everything crashes down on me, and I bury my face in my hands.

“FUCK,” I scream, the sound muffled by my palms to not be heard by anyone else. The tears come hard and fast, my shoulders shaking with each sob. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. The pain is unbearable, and all I can do is cry.

Thankfully the boys had already gone to bed the night of me and Nick’s fight, so we didn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions. I cried, got it out of my system, and isolated the emotions into a little folder I tucked into my heart, just as I did the last time. Although, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t getting more and more difficult. Two weeks later, I’m still avoiding Nick, but I don’t act like a scrambling mouse any time he enters the room. Tensions have calmed down and it’s impressive how much can be hidden behind a mask. 

Today, I’m tearing the kitchen apart looking for a measuring cup, how they’ve made it this far without a measuring cup, I have no idea. 

As I’m bent over into a lower cabinet, I spot Nicholas in my peripheral. Obviously, he’s the one I’d been avoiding the most but the feeling was mutual, us rarely interacting with each other after movie night. We barely spoke to each other during meetings and avoided each other around the house. 

“Looking for something?” He asks with a bit of condescension in his tone. 

The comment immediately irritates me as I’d been hungrily searching for this goddamn utensil for the past half hour and all I fucking want are pancakes on my day off. I bite my tongue in order to not snap at him and back out of the cabinet, standing up. “Would you happen to know where a girl could find a goddamn measuring cup around here?” My irritated tone greatly outweighed Nick’s more subtle one.

His brows raised, shocked that I’d even speak that way, nonetheless to him. His brows didn’t stay up though, they fell rather quickly into thick, straight lines. The way his face turned cold so quickly made me shiver with a fear crawling up my back. “I know you’re not speaking to me that way in my own house.” 

Immediately, I want to rival it but try my best to stifle it down. However, the feeling was too strong. “I know you aren’t talking to me like that, period.” Crossing my arms over my chest and raising a brow at him. 

He steps towards me, “With work? Sure, I can play nice. Outside of work? I can talk to you however I want.” 

My brows furrow at his sudden hostility. Even though we’d been avoiding each other, things have been calm and professional. He’s never spoken to me like this before and while I’m used to dealing with intimidating industry men on my own, the darkness in his tone has my heart thumping in fear. For the sake of my self-respect, I square my shoulders and straighten my back. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” 

“Or what?” He provokes, stepping even closer to me. “You work for us, remember? You’re nothing more than a glorified assistant.” 

My jaw practically drops to the floor and red-hot anger rushes through my veins. I hear the smack first, ringing through the kitchen before I feel the static-y stinging in my palm. I gasp and bring my hands to my mouth while I watch him quickly reach for his reddening cheek. I instinctively want to apologize but, he deserved it. 

When his eyes return to mine, they’re the darkest gray I’ve ever seen them and the fearful thumping in my chest returns. He steps forward, backing me into the corner of the cabinets and the air in my lungs vacates when I look up to find his eyes burning holes in my body. My eyes widen at the sudden, unexpected action. “Nick.” I tremble out in the space between us. 

“You think you can just move in and run shit.” He taunts, his voice low and gravelly. “Haven’t even been in the house a month and you’re already acting up.” 

The fight or flight response in my body begs me to cry, to apologize and shove him away but the burning lava in my bloodstream demands otherwise. I clench my jaw matching the intensity of his stare. “I’m an adult Nicholas, I can do whatever the fuck I want in the home I pay to live in.” 

His hands land on the granite countertop at each side of my hips. “You have one hell of a fucking attitude today.”

The energy shifts into something slightly less aggressive and more sensual. As much as it should disgust me after all the shit he just pulled, it has my thighs pressing together. 

I cock my head at him, and in a tone that borders on innocent, I challenge him, “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” 

His hand goes to touch my hip but stops short, stopping himself. We both know the lie I told him, but it seems like he might’ve actually believed it afterall. He lowered to just below my ear. “If I could, I’d make sure the only thing coming out of that bratty little mouth of yours are those pretty noises you make.” He whispers, his voice low and raspy.

His words went straight to my core, filling it with rampant buzzing. The war in my head waged between keeping up with my plan versus just giving into him like I always seem to do. However, it seemed as though the wetness pooling between my legs was winning.

I must’ve taken too long for him, long enough to crack his resolve just a bit. He pressed his forehead against mine, forcing my focus up to him. The look in his eyes had switched to something softer than before, if I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a hint of sadness in his crystal grey eyes. “Can I touch you?” He asks barely above a whisper and when I don’t answer immediately, he begs again. “I need to touch you, Val.” His voice carried what sounded like a deep desperation, and it all yanked at my heart - but guilt was a beast for a different time. 

Truth is, that I feel the same desperation as he does. I nod quickly against him, “Touch me.” I cave into him, like I always do. “Touch me, touch me, touch me.” I repeat softly before his lips clash into mine and his hands finally meet my hips, immediately pulling me onto the counter. As soon as the coolness of the granite meets my thighs, my eyes round at the realization that we’re in the kitchen. I pull away before he has a chance to deepen the kiss, “The others.” I breathe out urgently with wide eyes down at him.

He shakes his head quickly, “They’re out of the city for the day.” 

It could’ve been a bold face lie, but that’s all the reassurance I need to proceed on our poor decision. His tongue swipes across my bottom lip and I oblige faster than I’d like to admit. Our tongues find each other and begin to entwine themselves. He grasps my hips and pulls me to the edge of the counter to press himself against me. I can’t help but let out a tiny moan into his mouth at the feeling of his covered erection pressing into my clothed center. 

His hands trail up my sides to cup my cheeks before parting from me, “You feel what you do to me?” Soft but needy pants through parted lips fall on my own.

My heaving chest and my pathetic excuse for a nod was enough for him to rejoin our lips. I wrap my arms around his neck tugging him even closer. Our tongues fight for dominance but he’s winning, and his thumbs dig into my hip bones in an almost painful way, as if he’s scared I’ll vanish from his grasp. 

My fingers find their way into his hair that’s wrapped up in a loose bun and dig my nails into the roots, letting out a small sigh against his lips. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee in the best way.

I pull away for a moment and let my focus move from his lips back up to his eyes. My hands glide over the waistband of his jeans, dipping two fingers behind the zipper and pulling it towards my body. “I thought you had a lesson to teach me?”

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat as he processes my words. His fingers snap to my thighs, digging harshly into the flesh before spreading them apart as far as they’d allow. Warmth tinted my cheeks at the action, feeling exposed. I’m still clothed but now it’s just the thin fabric of my panties keeping the most intimate part of me covered. It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t seen before, but it still feels vulnerable. 

“Tell me, what lesson do you think you need to learn?” He asks me while his fingertips urge my lower back to move further to the edge of the counter. 

“Hmm,” I feign thinking hard about the answer. “I think that you think it should be my mouth, but I don’t think that.”

“Oh, no?” He questions, “Is there anything you do that makes you think you deserve a lesson?”

“Nope.” I reply with cheery innocence. 

“That’s interesting, because you’re massively overdue for one.” He tugs my legs so close to him it almost pulls me off the counter. 

He leans down and presses a kiss just below my ear, then trails it down my neck. My heart beats so fast against my ribcage I fear it could burst. 

While his hands roam and grope anywhere they land, he’s buried in my neck sucking marks into it. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, mumbling against my skin and makes my heart rate skip a beat or two. 

I tilt my head back and scrunch my eyes closed. We shouldn’t be doing this in the first place, nonetheless, saying these sorts of things to each other, but it seems neither of us care enough to remember why. 

I tangle my fingers in his hair, giving it a gentle tug and nudging my head against his. “I’ve missed you too, Nicky.” 

He pauses the same way I did but this time he moves back up to rejoin our lips. 

There’s a couple words that linger in the back of my throat - words I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell him. Words that I’m not sure make sense for us or if they’re just the chemicals rushing through me. But I want to say them, and I’m scared that if I go to say anything at all they might tumble out. 

His hands find and tug at my shirt which I quickly pull away and discard it across the room. I take the opportunity to do the same with him. I catch the hem of his shirt, and he stills. I realize in the two times we’ve slept together, I’ve never seen him shirtless. That combined with the way he hesitated when I went to pull it off makes me think he might be uncomfortable. “May I?” 

He hesitates but nods and lets me be the one to pull it off him. He’s tattooed all over his chest just as he is on his arms, and it makes me want to go exploring all over his body. Our lips reunite and our tongues reconnect before I get a chance to compliment his appearance. I work quickly at undoing his jeans while he struggles to pull down my skirt.

Finally, bare to each other, he pulls me taut against him to make sure I can feel just how much he’s missed me. He nestles his thick shaft between my folds, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed that part of him too. I let a small whine slip into our kiss at the feeling of him throbbing against my clit. 

He disconnects from me only to press his forehead against mine, “I need to be inside you.” There’s a greater feeling behind his claim, more akin to ‘I need to be as close to you as possible’.

“I need you, please.” I reply, sounding more desperate than I would’ve liked. 

Now, not my brightest moment, letting him push his way inside me without more prep when I haven’t had him in so long. The stretch his girth brings is a delicious but brutal burn. He takes mercy on me by taking it slow and I feel every thick inch of him until he bottoms out, nuzzling the tip of his cock into my cervix.

“Fuck.” I breathe out, resting my head back on the cabinet. 

While it’s painful, it feels just like puzzle pieces reuniting, like he was made for me. He fills me completely, leaving no empty space.

He only stays stagnant for a short bit of time before he begins rutting into me. I remember how good he feels once adjusted to him. His head is tucked into the other side of my neck, littering it with more marks. He lets small grunts and groans tumble into my neck as he drills into me. With every thrust, his cock hits the bundle of nerves deep within my core and makes my skin burn. “God, you take me so fucking good.” He mutters beneath my ear and it makes me grip onto him tighter.

He detaches from my neck and unexpectedly places both hands on my cheeks, directing my gaze onto him. His hips slow but don’t halt as he forces me to focus on his stormy eyes. 

“Tell me it was a lie.” He demands, with a slight melancholic undertone.

I tilt my head a bit at the request, unsure of what he was referring to or why he’s bringing it up now. “What?”

“I know you lied to me, tell me it was a lie.” He pleads again, with more desperation this time. “Tell me there was no one else.” 

As I take a moment to process, he returns to his spot on my throat, pulling the skin of my neck between his teeth and one hand finding my swollen clit, rolling circles into it. My eyes widen at the feeling of both sensations at the same time, rapidly accelerating the proximity of my high. 

“Tell me you lied to me.” He repeats in a mumble beneath my ear. “Tell me there’s no one else. I need to hear it.”

My mind swirls between his words and the pleasure he’s giving me. It’s like some twisted tactic, that if he gets me so overwhelmed, I’d be forced to tell the truth - and it’s working. 

“I-“ I begin, going to ask how he ‘knows’ but I know I’m a terrible liar, especially to him. My peak rushes to where his fingertips meet my bundle of nerves and all I can think about is him. “I lied, Nick, I lied.” My fingernails dig into his back, and I squeeze my eyes shut, letting an ache wash through my chest.

I feel him smile against my skin and his speed picks up, ramming into my sweet spot over and over while working figure-8’s into my clit. 

“There’s only you.” I add, because I have nothing left to lose with the truth being out. “There’s only ever been you.”

He groans at the words and the way my walls involuntarily pulse around him. “Fuck.“ He grunts against my neck, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Fuck, I’m close. Cum with me?” 

I nod quickly as I’m on the precipice of my own high as well and ready to reach it with him. 

His thumb speeds up with the rolls of his hips pushing me over the edge. “Fuck I’m gonna, fuck,” Buzzing euphoria washes over me and blinds my vision as the coil in my belly snaps. It spreads burning heat across my body and only intensifies when I feel his cock twitch, spilling his hot release into the deepest part of me.

Our chests rise and fall quickly in time with each other and his breath brushes past my shoulder in short bursts. It feels so good to be so full of him.

Unexpectedly, he pulls back only to hold my face and pull me in for another kiss. This time, it’s sweet and soft and full of an emotion we haven’t spoken. Our tongues dance together but it’s slow and tender, the sort of kiss that bonds you and makes you feel safe. 

Once he detaches from me, his forehead presses into mine once more, meeting my eyes with his silver ones, this time having a faint blue hue. His thumbs brush along my cheekbones and his eyes dart across my face, “I don’t want to stop doing this, Vallie.” He whispers and it twists a knife in my chest.

I don’t want to stop either, I want to say. 

I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer. “Nick, we-”

“I know.” He says sadly, but with a slightly hopeful pitch. “The guys are coming around, nobody has to know but us five. I can wait, Val.” His voice pleads. “I can wait, I can wait until you’re ready, until we can. There’s something here, I know you feel it too, I can feel it. I just can’t do this anymore, it’s torture being around you.” His words accelerate as he speaks. “It takes everything in me not to touch you. I can’t be around you, let alone live with you and pretend that I don’t love you.” His eyes widen a bit at what he just blurted out. 

My own eyes round wide at him and my heart feels so full it could pop. “You… what?”

He closes his eyes, “I know that I shouldn’t.” His voice strained before meeting my gaze again. “But I do.” 

I blink up at him as he confirms the same words that have been swirling on the tip of my tongue. My hands slide down to hold his face. “I love you too, Nicholas.” I whisper in the space between us. 

“You do?” He asks, almost surprised though I can’t tell if it’s because I said it or because I mean it, maybe both.

“Yes. I love you, I love you,” My hands pull him closer as I repeat the words like a prayer; now that I’ve said them, I can’t stop. “I love you, I love you,” Before I can get to the fifth ‘I love you’ he wraps my legs around his hips and lifts me off the counter with him still inside me. He carries me into the living room and before I can question anything, we reach his intended destination. 

He lays me down on the couch - the same couch we got high on and ate Jolly Ranchers and ice cream. The couch where we first experienced each other’s bodies. It's not the couch where our love began but it is where it bloomed. 

Our lips rejoin immediately, getting swept up in our newly confessed love. I felt him hardening inside me again before we even left the kitchen. My arms wrap around his neck and my legs close in around his hips, trying to get him as close as possible.  

His hips begin to rut into me, gliding easily with his previous release still inside. It begins tender and slow but as with anything with Nick, it heats up quickly. He uses one hand to hook behind my knee pulling my hips up and closer to him and I let out a gasp at the new, deeper angle. His lips find my neck again, placing needy but tender open mouth kisses there. “I need you to feel how much I love you.”

My nails dig into his back at his words, “Fuck.” I moan out as his tip hits my g-spot directly in rapid succession with no reprieve. “Fuck, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He says softly against my neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. “God, you feel fucking amazing.” It was like once we gave in and admitted to our feelings, it amplified the sex tenfold.

My head feels like it’s spinning when I nod in agreeance, desperately, “You fill me up so good, baby.” I let the name slip in the cloud of pleasure.

“Fuck, call me that again.” He nearly growls and lands one hard thrust flush against my hips.

It made my heart swell, thankful that he liked it, then had my walls pulsing around him in the realization that he really liked it.

“I love your fucking cock, baby.” I repeat the petname.

“Yeah?” He smirks, against my skin, “You like the way I stretch you out, angel?”

I flutter my eyes closed, feeling so complete in our surrender to one another, like this was how we were meant to be with each other from the beginning. It’s overwhelming how all of our suppressed words and feelings were all crashing into us at once. We broke open the floodgates and we were drowning in each other.

“God yes.” I dig my nails deeper into his flesh, feeling the daunting size of him trying to split me in two.

“Fuck, you take me so fucking good.” He mumbles in a low voice, and I feel myself clench as much as I can around his girth like I need to keep him there forever. He groans at the feeling, “Oh, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up.” His hand frantically finds my clit again, beginning tight circles into it.

My breath hitches in my throat and my eyes widen, that being the only thing I needed to send me into my second orgasm. He’s not far behind with hard, staggered thrusts chasing his own high.

Our climaxes arrive rapidly with the passionate expression of our love. For the second time that day, we hit our peaks together in unison, letting the confessions of our love fill the room. 

He practically falls and melts into me as our chests heave in time with each other. After a bit his eyes look down at me, still hazy with lust, now mixed with love. “It’s not enough.” He says hastily.

My brows furrow at his words, lifting myself up to my elbows as he slowly makes his way down my body. “What do you mean?”

He lands at my hips, spreading my legs apart. “I said that I need you to feel how much I love you. Fucking you with my cock isn’t enough.”

Before I can protest or inquire, his head is dipped between my thighs and his tongue is latched to my already-overstimulated clit.

“Oh, no, no, no.” My hand flies into his hair as I shake my head quickly. “No, Nick, I can’t – oh – not again,” I hiss at his blatant disregard and try to squirm away. “Fuck – It’s too much.”

He groans against me and his hand grip onto my hips stiffly, keeping me locked in place. “Stay fucking still.” He growls the demand without pulling his mouth away, every word sending a vibration through my body.

Every move of his tongue is intentional in a specific pattern, if I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he was actually spelling out ‘I love you’. Regardless of that being factual or not, it doesn’t matter because it feels like he was writing loveletters with his tongue.

Every flick and swirl, sends a jolt through my entire being. My movements beneath his mouth can only be described as thrashing as my center is flooded with stimulation it wasn’t ready to receive again. It’s heavenly but almost painful at the same time. “Slower, please.” I beg but it’s futile; once Nick’s determined on something, its hard to convince him otherwise.

I tug at the roots of his hair and wriggle as much as I can with him keeping me in place. I’d felt my high creeping up, but I didn’t expect it to crash into me out of nowhere. It hits me all at once, my hips buck into him and my grip on his hair must be painful, but he doesn’t falter, not for a second. Silent screams ghost my throat as pleasure rips through me, violently. His tongue continues to roll at the perfect speed in all the right patterns, dragging out my high into the longest one I’ve ever had.

He finally tapers off of me and looks up at me through my parted legs. “I could do that all fucking day.”

I deflate into the cushions with a sigh, my ears still ringing from the overwhelming pleasure that just possessed my entire being. He kisses up my body, reaching up and planting a chaste kiss to the side of my mouth. “Was that too much?” He questions in a whisper.

I shake my head lazily, out of breath. “Perfect.” Is all I can get out.

The edge of his lips curl into a smirk. “I knew it would be.” And places a prideful kiss to my shoulder.

Once cleaned up, we laid on the couch together with me cuddled into his side and my head on his chest. The silence around us is both comforting and nerve wracking. The air is thick with fragility, like if one of us moves or speaks our bubble will burst. 

As we lie there, the quiet moments stretch out, and I can feel his heartbeat steady under my ear. It’s a rhythm that grounds me, making everything else fade away. His fingers trace gentle patterns on my arm, and I close my eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. There’s a comforting sense of relief in surrendering completely to each other, finally. I’m not sure what this all means for us, but it feels good to finally admit it outloud. 

We stay like that for the rest of the night, enveloped in a bubble of shared intimacy. The outside world, with all its complications and uncertainties, feels distant and unimportant. Right now, we are just two people who have found comfort in each other’s arms. The complex reality and fragile hope for what might come next hangs in the air, but for now, they don’t need to be addressed. The uncertainty still lingers, but it’s softened by the honesty we’ve shared today. Tomorrow will bring its own set of challenges and questions, but in this moment, I allow myself to simply be with him, wholly. All that matters is the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the soft whisper of our breaths mingling in the quiet room. It’s enough to simply be together, a luxury we’ve denied ourselves of for so long—to find solace in the closeness and love that has always been there, begging to be acknowledged from the beginning.

Taglist; @ladyveronikawrites @persuasivus @kingdomof-omens @strawberryruffilo @the-hell-i-overcame @cncohshit @dominuslunae @thebadchic @to-be-written @myownthoughts12 @measuredingold [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N; The love for this story is something I never expected and I am truly grateful for it. Sorry that this took so long or if it's not up to par. I would love to hear your thoughts and predictions 👀 Thank you SO much for reading 💗

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Maestro

romeo complains. yuri attempts to cheer him up. (not a ship.) sidecar of music theory free of charge.

also on ao3

cw: blood, gory deaths.

words: 2,393 plus a few unrepeatables from romi.

Romeo had a surprisingly good singing voice. He’d been formally taught the basics as a child, inhaling correctly and enunciation and so forth, but the soulful part came to him as naturally as breathing. The lyrics of this particular song seemed to tumble straight from his heart by way of his tongue.

“~passigiar…sott’er cielo de Romaaa~”

Yuri chuckled to himself. “Homesick and nostalgic today, are we?”

An exasperated sigh broke off his singing from the other room and left the vintage record to continue on without him. “You have no idea,” he lamented. There was the clinking of glasses and liquid fizzing briefly before he returned with one perilously-full drink in each hand. He passed one to Yuri on his way to his favorite chair, but from the way he collapsed into it, it was rather evident that he would prefer to be sprawled across the couch cushions instead.

Yuri sipped the top layer off and closed his eyes to savor it. “Ahhh, so refreshing,” he declared before setting it aside.

Romeo took a healthy swig from his own glass. Yuri guessed this was not his first or second drink of the afternoon. Perhaps not even his third. “These idiots must convene every day to decide how best to piss me off.” He took on a mocking tone. “‘Oooo, look, everyone, four o’clock, what asinine ideas did we come up with today? Gasp! Great thinking, Kaito! That will infuriate him for sure!’ Fucking hell.”

“It would not surprise me.” Yuri passed him a sympathetic look. “We are surrounded and, regrettably, outnumbered.”

“I swear to god, if you start singing Hamilton right now, I’m going to push you in front of a truck.”

Yuri cackled. “I’ll generously attribute that insult to your blood alcohol content. What are you by now, point-oh-five, oh-six maybe?”

Romeo gave an irritated growl. “Whatever it is, it’s not high enough.” He emptied the rest of his glass with an aggravated, less-than-gentlemanly sigh. A watery glance at the goblet told Yuri he was thinking of throwing it in frustration, but a sluggish mental calculation of the monetary value stayed his velvet hand. “Is this better or worse than shooting something?”

“Well, I do advise against the consumption of more than one alcoholic beverage per day, as a matter of course.”

“Why did I invite you?”

The corner of Yuri’s mouth twitched. “Because, my morose little Sicilian transplant, I always know how to cheer you up.”

Romeo’s eyes focused a little more certainly on Yuri. “That sounds like you have an idea.”

“I do have an idea, Watson.” Yuri picked up the leather briefcase at his feet and offered it to Romeo, whose gemstone eyes regained some brilliance at the sight. He set his glass down and took the case.

He spun the codes, and the brass latches snapped open at his touch. He opened the case. “Ooooo…” He gingerly removed a glass vial from the set. “It’s not even my birthday!”

“I presumed you have at least a few specimens available at all times.”

“You presume correctly, amico mio.” He nodded at Yuri’s drink. “Finish that first. We do not waste liquor in this house. And don’t make me wait.”

“Demanding. I shall have to take twice as long now.”

“Non ci pensare!”

Yuri drained the rest of his glass and took both his and Romeo’s back to the private kitchen. Romeo had decided that, due to their repeated incompetence peppered with instances of treachery, he could no longer trust any of the employees to do menial tasks for him - at least, nothing that would allow them to be in his suite unsupervised. Yuri quickly rinsed and dried the glasses before returning to the lounge area, where he found Romeo examining the rest of his new collection.

“May I do the honors?” asked Yuri.

Romeo snapped the case shut and stood. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

Yuri entered the weapons vault and arranged the various unassuming levers and switches to unlock the hidden door, then they both stepped forward into darkness. Romeo’s mood had improved substantially; he was humming now, halfway through the next verse of the song he’d left unfinished, about a couple disappearing together beneath the blanket of a summer night in Rome.

“I don’t suppose you ever listen to real music,” Yuri said snidely.

Romeo called him a word he’d never heard before (and one he suspected Romeo’s mother would slap out of his mouth). “Take that back.”

“I will not. It is just as Mozart says in the film: ‘the only sound Italians understand is banality. Show them one interesting modulation and they faint.’” He didn’t have to see Romeo’s face to know what sort of fury he was igniting. “The Germans are unmatched in their creation of the world’s finest composers. Strauss, Bach, Handel - Beethoven, for god’s sake! Mendelssohn! Wagner!” Yuri had a particular fondness for Wagner. “I could go on for days.”

“And I thought you were here to cheer me up,” Romeo said with disgust. “I don’t need to be insulted like this. Besides, if Germans are such renowned musicians, why is Italian the language of music, hm? All the terminology, the notation?”

Yuri had to bite back a laugh that bordered on maniacal. “So they could take notes on how it should be done.”

It earned him another verbal slap, but it was worth it. Short was the list of people who could get away with taunting Romeo in such a way.

They emerged from the corridor and into the crimson shadows of the auction hall. Yuri could only make out a few faint movements in each of the tall, golden cages, but he could hear the mumbles and groans of the casino’s latest merchandise within them, and it brought out his most sinister smile. He watched Romeo set the briefcase on a table and reverentially open it again.

“Well, well, where to start, where to start…” He swept one finger back and forth across the row of vials as if expecting one to jump to his hand magnetically. He finally selected the one in the center.

“Excellent choice.” Yuri adjusted his gloves and grinned.

Romeo uncapped the vial and poured the contents into his palm. Having honed his abilities over the years, it was nothing for him to control his stigma with a delicate hand, the way a conductor would lead an orchestra through a soft, intricate passage, with mindful restraint and a gradually warming pull through the opening crescendo. He inhaled, then lifted his hand and blew the powder away with a kiss.

The powder thinned into silken smoke that spilled over the cage before him. When he heard the first subject fall with a clang, a little shiver of excitement teased his heart. The others followed immediately and rattled the cage from the impact. Romeo thought he might faint for completely different reasons.

“Incredible,” he whispered as the smoke dissipated to reveal the collapsed bodies. “And without an obvious trace, I assume,” he added over his shoulder without looking away from his work.

“Naturally,” Yuri said with a roll of his eyes. “This is hardly amateur hour.”

Romeo took the liberty of crushing the nearest subject’s fingers beneath his heel as he made for the adjacent cage.

“If I may suggest a prescription,” Yuri said with a sneer as he offered up a second vial.

“As my father would say, ‘You make-a terrible sentences.’” Romeo took the glass tube and uncapped it. The powder within shifted like crushed rubies. He glanced over at Yuri with elation glittering in his eyes and saw his friend pulling on a face mask.

“Best aim carefully with that one.”

O, be still his trembling heart. Romeo could hardly stand it.

He tipped a small amount of the substance into his hand and blew a breath over it. Rather than soft smoke, it shattered into a trillion shards of light that settled like a delicate veil over the test subjects. Just as their voices began to swell in a chorus of pain, Romeo, their brilliant conductor, charged them to sing instead with the blood bubbling up from their vacant mouths like so many fountains.

The choir died as a collective, strangled song.

Romeo felt the shiver again, reverberating through his ribcage with thunderous applause. He could hardly hear his own awestruck voice over the roaring admiration ringing in his ears.

“Che bello.”

Yuri gave a dark laugh. “I’m pleased to hear it.” He removed his mask and offered Romeo the third vial, which contained a thick, clear liquid that moved like warm syrup. “Now, let us say, for the sake of argument, that one of your lieutenants has, unfortunately, killed an informant from whom you had yet to extract information.” Yuri often spoke as if he were a tenured professor at the center of a lecture hall, complete with pacing back and forth. Romeo folded his hands in front of himself like an attentive student. “Or let us say, for instance, that you come upon the scene of a massacre and have no one left alive to interrogate.”

Romeo nodded along obediently.

“This one is of particular value in such a scenario,” Yuri said with a devious arch to his eyebrow and a wicked smile, neither of which he could contain for long enough to pass as a respectable man. “It can be applied using any of the standard methods. Go on.”

Romeo inspected the substance. Liquids were far more difficult to control via his particular stigma, given that few explosives existed in such a state. Solids were easy; powders, convenient; vapors, manageable. But liquids just had minds of their own.

Still, he couldn’t exactly let Yuri show him up on his own stage.

He spread a small amount on the nearest subject’s forehead, channeling the thinnest slice of his power, a mere grace note leading into the intended tone. It suddenly sparked beneath his fingertips and burned quickly into the subject’s skin with an ugly char. He leaned away in disgust, more at himself for failing than at the sight and sound of seared flesh. Heaven knew he’d done worse.

The subject opened its eyes and tried to scream, but the blood coating its throat merely gurgled along.

It was over in moments, and it dropped dead again.

“I suppose I need more practice,” he said with the ghost of a frown.

Yuri tapped his chin in thought - a habit of which Romeo had tried to break him many times. “I suppose it makes sense,” he said contemplatively. “If the subject’s injuries are such that they would be prevented from speaking, they would not be able to respond to questioning.” Romeo noticed belatedly that he was holding a familiar recording device in one hand. “Consult texts in aisle eight, section twelve, rows…five and six, I believe. Need to reformulate to lessen the chance of unexpected combustion.”

Well, at least that made Romeo feel a little better. “Did you steal that from Shinjo?”

Yuri’s mouth curled. “Borrowed, thank you. Mine took an unanticipated leap into the hydrostatic weighing tank.”

“Ah.” Romeo slipped his phone out of his pocket. He swiped away all of the notifications and opened Spotify, then navigated to his usual playlist and hit play.

Yuri shook his head as the opening bars of ‘That’s Amore’ rose in volume around them, courtesy of Romeo’s very expensive sound system and led by his signature serenading tone. “Always have to show off that famous Lucci family singing voice, don’t you?”

There was an audible tinkling sound as Romeo brought his rifle out to play. “Why not?” he asked as he loaded the last of Yuri’s prototype vials into the modified chamber. “It’s not like I’m going to inherit anything else from this fucking family.” He racked the round and briefly closed his eyes to let the song wash over him to clear his head of everything else. The fizz of sweet prosecco and the bitter citrus of aperol lingered on his musical tongue and reminded him of home.

Perhaps he had drunk too much wine. He bent back, aimed high, and shot the light fixture at the center of the ceiling. It exploded and plunged the room into darkness, but the flash powder burst into glimmering stars that rained down in a slow shower like his favorite kind of fireworks, the one that spread glittering strands in all directions and fell in the shape of a weeping willow. Or a chandelier.

As the screams of the remaining test subjects withered into cries and moans beneath the swell of the music, Romeo watched the stars he had wrought into existence shimmer and finally fade into the black.

“I always hated that thing,” Yuri concurred with a nod.

“I need a chandelier. A real chandelier.” Romeo ejected the empty vial from the gun and flicked it back onto its keychain, which he twirled thoughtfully around one finger. “I would invite you along on the trip to Venice if you would not be insufferable about it.”

Yuri scoffed. “I resent the implication,” he said indignantly over crossed arms. “I would behave in a perfectly reasonable manner on the way to Lauscha.”

“And what makes you think I would accept anything less than the finest quality?” Romeo let a bit of the flash powder residue flare to life in his hand so they could find their way to the exit. It flickered in his gemstone eyes.

“Documented reliability,” Yuri said with a smirk and a wave of his borrowed voice recorder. “You consistently choose your arrogant, misplaced pride over objectively better options.”

“You are not my psychiatrist, Yuri.”

Yuri snorted. “Of course not. Such a profession would drive me mad.”

Romeo wondered, sometimes, about whether he should make a foray into another area of his expertise instead of committing his life to the ailing family business. Music, perhaps. He could quite easily imagine himself conducting a one-hundred-piece symphony orchestra at the center of a concert hall. One he would have designed and constructed in order to best showcase his prowess.

Beneath a distinctly Venetian chandelier.

“Very well,” Romeo conceded to his wistful imaginings. “You may serve your German gingerbread as concessions at my concert hall in Rome.”

“What the hell are you talking about, mein Freund?”

Romeo chuckled. “Nothing,” he said. “Just the musings of a genius.”

x

[mattmunch-hunty]

The Boys's Christmas 

(✿◡‿◡) Summary

→ Y/n online shops for the Boys's Christmas presents

All I want for Christmas is you By Mariah Carey

Pink: Y/n Blue: Matt Nick: Purple Chris: Orange

Please DON'T steal MY work!!

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

The living room was filled with the faint scent of pine, and the soft hum of Christmas music played from a speaker on the mantle. Y/N walked in, her sweater cozy and oversized, a notepad in hand as she approached Nick, Matt, and Chris.

“Alright, boys,” she said with a teasing smile. “Time to hand over your Christmas lists.”

Nick, lounging on the couch, reached for a folded piece of paper tucked beside him. “Here you go. I kept it simple—just three things.”

Chris smirked as he handed his over. “Mine’s not complicated either. But if you get me the wrong gaming keyboard, we’re gonna have words.”

Y/N laughed, taking the paper. “Noted, Chris. And Matt?”

Matt, sitting on the armrest of the couch, handed her his neatly folded list. “I trust you’ll pick something perfect, as always.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed at his tone. “No pressure, right?”

With the lists in hand, she retreated to her room, settling into her desk chair. The faint glow of Christmas lights from her window illuminated the space as she opened her laptop. She set up a playlist of her favorite Christmas songs, starting with All I Want for Christmas Is You, and began unfolding the boys’ lists.

Nick’s requests were straightforward: a vintage leather jacket, a new pair of boots, and a set of high-quality headphones. She nodded, searching online for the perfect jacket that matched his style.

Chris’s list was pure gamer energy: a mechanical keyboard with customizable backlighting, a matching mouse, and a limited-edition game he’d been raving about. Y/N added them to her cart, humming along to Jingle Bell Rock.

Matt’s list was as meticulous as he was. A sleek espresso machine, a leather-bound journal, and a bottle of his favorite cologne. She smiled, imagining him jotting down notes in the journal during his work breaks.

Just as Y/N finished finding the espresso machine Matt wanted, the door creaked open. She looked up to see Matt standing there, a curious expression on his face.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you up to?”

Y/N quickly minimized the browser window, though a grin tugged at her lips. “Nothing you’re allowed to see. Christmas magic at work.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, stepping into the room. “Is this about our lists?”

“Maybe,” she teased, swiveling her chair to face him. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be downstairs with Nick and Chris?”

“They’re arguing over which Christmas movie to watch,” Matt said with a chuckle. “I needed a break.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Typical. Don’t think you can distract me, though. Your gifts are a surprise.”

Matt crossed the room, leaning casually on the edge of her desk. “I don’t need surprises. I already know whatever you get will be thoughtful. You’re good at this, Y/N.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she looked down at her laptop, pretending to focus on her screen. “Stop trying to butter me up, Matt. You’re not getting any hints.”

He chuckled softly, pushing off the desk. “Fair enough. But don’t stay up too late shopping, alright? Christmas is about relaxing too.”

Y/N gave him a playful salute. “Yes, sir.”

As Matt left, she turned her attention back to her laptop, the warmth of his words lingering. She hit “checkout” on her cart, her excitement growing with the thought of seeing their reactions on Christmas morning.

With the last notes of Silent Night playing softly in the background, Y/N leaned back in her chair, already feeling the holiday cheer wrapping around her like a cozy blanket.

[connorsoddsock]

Detroit: Ground Zero | Ch. 1 (Connor x fem!reader)

Summary: You’re an aspiring psych student, ready to take on the world when life takes an unexpected, bloody turn. Flesh eaters now roam the city of Detroit in search of their next meal, an aggressive new deviant group rears its head, and you are caught right in the middle of it. Great…

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Profanity, mild descriptions of blood

Notes: Hi everyone, connorsoddsock here to present you with my first-ever attempt at a DBH fic! I'm a little rusty but happy to be back in the writing game! This story is influenced by The Last of Us and The Walking Dead but is not a crossover fic. It is Connor x reader-centric, but there will be a nice helping of Nines x reader & slight Gavin x reader (if you squint). Without further ado, please enjoy!

Next chapter

View on AO3

Chapter One: Ground Zero

You groaned, leaning back in your chair with a wide stretch of your arms, spine cracking delightfully after sitting hunched over your laptop for the past hour. You’d just completed your last assignment for the semester and were more than ready to take a well-deserved break.

The café you were in was reasonably quiet, the hustle and bustle of lunch hour dwindling as the day drifted on and fellow customers returned to their day jobs. Dark clouds hung in the sky, threatening to lash the city of Detroit with its watery wrath – no doubt within the hour. You didn’t mind, though, you were well-armed with a mug of hot chocolate and your oversized jacket.

You glanced around the quaint café as you took your first few sips, admiring the soft pastels, vintage artworks, and cosy lounges as the drink warmed you from the inside. You didn’t often leave your apartment on days like this, preferring to hole up inside and admire the view from inside, but when you did, you chose to come here. It reminded you of home.

Mum and Dad would love this place…

A familiar young waitress interrupted you from your reverie. You always happened to be here on the days she worked, so naturally, she remembered your name.

“May I take this for you?” She asked politely, gesturing to your now empty mug.

“Of course.” You handed it to her with a smile. “Thanks, Elena.”

“You’re welcome.” With that, she walked off.

There was no point lingering around now that you’d had your little treat of the day. You were halfway through stuffing your laptop into your messenger bag when the door to the entrance flung open, and a series of people filtered through. Your eyes narrowed. Their expressions ranged from shock to teary-eyed to downright horrified.

Something is wrong…

The man who entered first was in a frenzy, shouting something to the android barista over the counter. You noticed their LED flicker between red and yellow, placing down the takeout cup they were working with, a look of pure disbelief riddling their features.

The young couple who occupied the table next to yours began whispering frantically to each other, but you could hear everything they said. The woman was halfway out of her chair before her partner yanked her down instantly, eyes glazed.

“Did I hear that right?” She whimpered.

“No. T-that can’t be right…”

“Damien, I want to go home. Right now.”

“Shh, just let me listen first!”

Dude’s got the right idea, you thought, turning your attention back to the frantic group of people lingering by the front door. It would be ideal to get a clearer picture before jumping to conclusions.

A few of them were peeking outside through a gap in the blinds they’d just lowered. The first man was still half-shouting at the android behind the counter, waving his arms, demanding that he give him a phone to use as he’d ‘dropped his in a scuffle with one of the fuckers’. You only just now noticed the dark red blood staining the arms of his brown leather jacket.

Others near the windows were beginning to back off, out of sight of whatever potential danger lay outside. Another man that had walked in behind the first grabbed his bicep and shook, “Gavin, we need to secure the perimeter.” He was pointing at the windows.

You stood up, silently tucking your messenger bag over your shoulder and peeking at your smartwatch. It would get dark out soon. If whatever they were saying was true, then you certainly didn’t want to be locked up in here in the dark with a bunch of strangers.

Gavin swore under his breath and signalled to his friend (Chris, you’d heard him say) to help him out. They started by pushing the tables on their sides and leaning them near the window – a makeshift wall, you realised. A handful of others began to help, bravely shuffling beside the two men and working together to block anyone from looking in. It wasn’t long until they were dusting their hands off, eyeing the ‘wall’ with a pensive gaze.

“Okay, everyone,” Gavin spun around after sending Chris off behind the counters (probably to continue his quest to find a phone). He addressed the patrons of the café with a hard stare, “I know you’re all confused – believe me, I am too – but there are… there are people out there attacking other people. Eating them.”

“Zombies, you mean?” The young woman from the table beside yours piped up, voice shaky and a tad accusatory, as if not wanting to beat around the bush. Her partner yanked on her arm once again, signalling her to shut up.

Gavin’s eyes fell shut, and he ran a hand through his rugged hair before conceding. “Yeah. Fuckin’ zombies.”

Panic began to spread through the room like wildfire, but Gavin was quick to hush them. “Look, my friend and I, we’re from the local police department. We’re gonna call it in and hole up until we get word that it’s safe for everyone to leave. Until then, we need to keep it down. They’re still out there.”

At that, he walked off to join his friend somewhere out the back. You released a shaky breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Was it true, then? It sounded pretty serious. And why would two cops have any reason to lie to civilians? You pressed your back against the wall, managing to sidle yourself into the corner, away from everyone else who’d huddled near the corner.

Your eyes landed on Elena, who was quickly but quietly shuffling her way to you from behind the counter, her blond hair shimmering under the artificial lights of the café. She came to a crouch beside you, blue eyes wide, frightened. “I think they’re about to turn out the lights…”

As if on cue, the café was suddenly shrouded in darkness, the only source of light now belonging to the darkened skies of the city (which really wasn’t all that much). You noted that it had started to rain, adding to the overall eeriness of the situation.

“Did you hear them say anything else?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady. It was becoming increasingly hard not to panic, just like everyone else seemed to be doing.

She shook her head, “Only that no one’s answering their calls.”

Great.

Elena finally dropped the rest of her weight to the floor, mirroring your actions and leaning against the wall. “Guess it’s a good thing I just started my shift.”

You snorted half-heartedly. The girl really tried to crack a joke just now. “I guess so,” you hummed in agreement. You paused before adding, “My cats are gonna be so pissed about being fed late.”

She giggled, nudging her elbow into your side. It was weird. You’ve never spoken to each other outside of basic pleasantries and whatever else came with a customer-employee relationship. Either way, you were glad she was here.

About ten minutes went by before the police duo made their way back out to the main floor, hushed words floating between them. Chris looked worried. Gavin, however, looked unbelievably frustrated.

He stepped forward once again. “We can’t get through to the station. As most of you probably know, it’s only a few streets over. About a ten-minute walk from here if you cut through the alleys.”

You knew where he was going with this.

He continued, “I’m gonna head over there, see what the go is…”

Immediate protest echoed throughout the room, a few people having the nerve to call him idiotic, stupid. You rolled your eyes. At least he was trying something.

You don’t know what came over you (idiocy and stupidity, probably), but you shot up a hand. “I’ll come.”

Elena whipped her head to you in shock, “What are you doing?”

You ignored her and stood up, leaving your messenger back on the floor beside the young waitress. You could feel her tugging at your leggings, pleading with you to sit back down.

Gavin’s attention was now on you, his eyes sharp, unwavering. “I didn’t ask for volunteers.”

Well…

“And you didn’t ask for flesh-eating zombies either, but here we are.”

He scoffed and began to approach you slowly, shuffling past the small crowd that had begun to surround him and his colleague. “Look here, doll. You have no idea what’s out there. Those things – the ones I faced, at least – are vicious. Besides,” he looked you up and down, “You’d only slow me down.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Look, buddy, I might not be the bravest person out there or a cop like yourself, but I’m quick. I won’t slow you down.”

He held your stare for a moment, waiting for you to back down. When you didn’t, he made a noise somewhere halfway between a grunt and a sigh. He turned around and addressed Chris, “Looks like I’ve got a temporary partner while you hold down the fort.”

Chris nodded, reaching over to place a comforting hand on an older lady’s shoulder. She was crying. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Once we get in contact with the station, everything will be fine.” He soothed, subtly turning her away from the windows.

Gavin began making his way to the exit with a wave for you to follow. You joined him to peek outside. There was nothing (or no one) from what you could see. Highly unusual for this normally highly active city. How did you not notice anything before? You took comfort in realising you hadn’t been the only one.

“Hey. You any good with a gun?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Never held one in my life.”

He swore under his breath. Storming over to the counter, he searched around for a moment before reaching out for something. When he returned, he held out a small but sharp knife. “You know where the station is?”

You took it with an unsure grip as he reached behind himself to pull out a handgun. Things were quickly escalating. “Y-yeah. I do,” you replied simply. He didn’t need to know that your brother was a frequent visitor there.

 “Right then,” he looked at you, hand on the door, ready to push. “Let’s get this fuckin’ show on the road.”

[theartarium25]

Timeless Elegance: Luxury Home Decor Items to Elevate Your Living Space

Luxury home decor items are not just about extravagance but also about quality craftsmanship, exquisite materials, and timeless design. Elevate your living space with these curated selections that embody sophistication and opulence, transforming your home into a sanctuary of luxury.

1. Designer Furniture

Investing Luxury home decor furniture pieces is key to achieving a luxurious interior. Look for iconic designs crafted from premium materials such as Italian leather, solid hardwoods, or handcrafted metals. Pieces like Eames lounge chairs, Barcelona chairs, or Chesterfield sofas not only exude elegance but also offer exceptional comfort and durability. Online platforms and exclusive boutiques often showcase a variety of designer furniture collections that cater to different tastes and interior styles.

2. Artisanal Rugs and Carpets

Luxury rugs and carpets are more than just floor coverings—they are works of art that anchor your room with style and sophistication. Hand-knotted Persian rugs, Tibetan wool carpets, or silk rugs with intricate patterns and rich colors can add a sense of opulence to any space. Online galleries and specialty stores offer a wide selection of artisanal rugs, allowing you to choose pieces that complement your decor while showcasing the craftsmanship of skilled artisans.

3. Statement Lighting Fixtures

Illuminate your home with statement lighting fixtures that serve as both functional elements and artistic focal points. Crystal chandeliers, sculptural pendant lights, or minimalist designer lamps can enhance the ambiance of your living spaces. Opt for fixtures crafted from high-quality materials like Murano glass, brushed brass, or Swarovski crystals to create a luxurious atmosphere. Online retailers specializing in luxury lighting offer a range of styles from classic to contemporary, ensuring you find the perfect pieces to illuminate and elevate your home.

4. Luxurious Bedding and Linens

Transform your bedroom into a luxurious retreat with high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, silk duvet covers, and plush velvet bedspreads. Luxury bedding sets not only provide unparalleled comfort but also elevate the aesthetic appeal of your bedroom. Look for renowned brands known for their craftsmanship and attention to detail. Online retailers often offer a curated selection of luxury linens in a variety of colors and textures, allowing you to create a sumptuous sanctuary for rest and relaxation.

5. Fine Art and Sculptures

Integrate fine art and sculptures into your decor to add a sense of sophistication and cultural richness. Original paintings, limited edition prints, or bespoke sculptures by renowned artists can become focal points that reflect your personal taste and style. Online art galleries and auction houses provide access to a diverse range of artworks, allowing you to curate a collection that resonates with your aesthetic sensibilities and enhances the luxury of your living space.

6. Antique and Collectible Decor

Incorporate antique furniture, vintage collectibles, or rare artifacts into your home decor to imbue it with a sense of history and exclusivity. Pieces such as antique French armoires, Ming dynasty porcelain vases, or Art Deco sculptures add a unique charm and timeless appeal to your interiors. Online auctions and specialty antique dealers offer a curated selection of rare and collectible items, making it possible to acquire treasures that enhance the luxury and uniqueness of your home.

7. Designer Tableware and Serveware

Elevate your dining experience with designer tableware and serveware crafted from fine materials such as bone china, sterling silver, or hand-blown glass. Luxury dinnerware sets, crystal glassware, and artisanal serving platters not only enhance your table settings but also reflect your refined taste and hospitality. Online luxury retailers often feature exclusive collections from renowned designers, allowing you to create memorable dining experiences with exquisite tableware that exudes elegance and sophistication.

8. Customized Home Accessories

Personalize your living space with customized home accessories that showcase your individuality and discerning taste. From bespoke throw pillows and embroidered linens to monogrammed bath towels and handcrafted decorative objects, customization adds a personal touch of luxury to your decor. Online platforms and specialty boutiques offer bespoke services where you can collaborate with artisans and designers to create one-of-a-kind pieces that elevate the luxury and uniqueness of your home.

9. Luxury Home Fragrances

Enhance the ambiance of your home with luxurious fragrances that evoke sophistication and tranquility. Choose from scented candles, reed diffusers, or room sprays crafted by renowned perfumers using high-quality ingredients. Luxury home fragrance brands offer a range of signature scents—from floral and citrusy to woody and oriental—that transform your living spaces into sensory retreats. Online retailers provide access to exclusive collections, allowing you to select fragrances that complement your interior decor and personal style.

10. Spa-Inspired Bath Essentials

Create a spa-like retreat in your bathroom with luxury bath essentials that pamper the senses and elevate your daily routine. Invest in plush bath towels, organic cotton bathrobes, and designer bath accessories crafted from fine materials like Turkish cotton or bamboo fibers. Online luxury retailers offer curated collections of spa-inspired bath essentials, allowing you to indulge in comfort and style while transforming your bathroom into a sanctuary of relaxation and rejuvenation.

Conclusion

Embrace the allure of luxury home decor items to create an environment that exudes sophistication, elegance, and comfort. Whether you're investing in designer furniture, artisanal rugs, fine art, or personalized accessories, each piece contributes to elevating the aesthetic appeal and ambiance of your living space. Online shopping provides unparalleled access to a diverse range of luxury home decor items, making it easier than ever to curate a home that reflects your refined taste and enhances your lifestyle. Choose wisely, and transform your home into a haven of timeless elegance and luxurious comfort.

[designitaliamidcentury]

VINTAGE SORIANA SOFA DESIGN AFRA AND TOBIA SCARPA FOR CASSINA 1970S

Vintage Soriana Sofa, a remarkable piece from the 1970s designed by renowned designers Afra and Tobia Scarpa. A must-see, this exceptional sofa has undergone meticulous restoration and is now adorned with luxurious Italian aniline cognac leather, known for its smooth and soft texture. Compact size easy to use in most spaces about 68" long very versatile and you can use the full seat cushions for seating as there are no arms.

This medium-sized Soriana sofa, part of the vintage collection, beautifully represents the timeless design language of Afra and Tobia Scarpa for Cassina. Originally created in 1969 and manufactured in the 1970s, this sofa has retained its allure, captivating enthusiasts of Italian modernism and avant-garde aesthetics.

Our skilled Italian upholsterer has taken great care in restoring this sofa to its former glory. With pristine padding, meticulous folds, and impeccable upholstery, every aspect of this piece reflects its original splendor. To provide a comprehensive view of the restoration process, we offer pre and post-restoration pictures upon request to the buyer, allowing them to fully appreciate the quality and craftsmanship that went into its restoration.

[lucajams]

Best Mid-Century Furniture on Amazon

Part I.

Curated, quality goods hand-picked by me. Prices range from $50-200

Full disclosure: I am an Amazon affiliate and make a small commission when you purchase from these links. I hope you find something you love and cherish. :-)

To be continued at a later time! Feel free to follow my Tumblr or Pinterest @lucajams for more curated interior design posts and other product recommendations.

[thehistoryvintageantiques]

Ingmar Relling Siesta chair (Copy)

Item Number : #74

Low-back Siesta Chair

Ingmar Relling

for Westnofa Furniture, Norway 1970s.

Beautifully reupholstered.

The Siesta chair, designed by Norwegian designer Ingmar Relling in 1965, is a timeless and iconic piece of furniture known for its sleek and minimalist design. With its curvy beech frame and comfortable canvas sling upholstered with a new, soft and supple leather cushion.

The Siesta chair is not only aesthetically pleasing but also ergonomically sound. Its simple yet elegant form has made it a staple in our homes, offices, and public spaces for decades.

Ingmar Relling's creation continues to be celebrated for its Scandinavian design principles that combine form, function, and comfort effortlessly.

These are the most comfortable of all the Scandinavian vintage lounge chairs.

86H x 62W x 84L cm

[monsoonblue]

“To the Moon and back have I Loved you”. For a life less ordinary. New development for early Summer 2023. | LUNA lounge chair. Full grain leather. In Solid White oak. 30W x 32D x 34H | www.monsoonblue.com | #monsoonblue®️#modern #furniture #wood #midcenturymodern #retro #vintage #exotic #minimalism #midcenturymodernfurniture #unique #chair #handcrafted #seat #minimalist #loungechair #lifestyle #livingroom #interiordesign #modernhome #moderndesign #interiordecor #livingroomdecor #modernfurniture #modernarchitecture #solidwood #wedding #romance #forever (at Naperville, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoRRH0_MiVV/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[danieldefoes]

Vintage Chairs in New York | Classic Designs at DwellMay

Discover timeless vintage chairs in New York with DwellMay. Elegant, unique designs that bring charm and character to any space. Explore our carefully curated collection of high-quality vintage chairs to elevate your home or office décor.

[uniqueinterior3]

The Design Balance: Where Function Meets High-Style

In interior design, the most successful spaces are the ones that find the perfect balance between form and function—where aesthetic appeal meets practicality. A beautifully designed home should not only look stylish but also support the way you live. The key to achieving this harmony lies in combining smart design choices with high-style elements. Here’s how to strike the perfect balance between functionality and beauty, creating spaces that are as functional as they are fabulous.

1. Start with Purposeful Layouts

Functionality begins with a thoughtful layout that serves the needs of the space and its occupants. A well-planned layout maximizes the use of space, allowing for easy flow and movement while ensuring that each area serves its intended purpose. Whether you’re designing an open-plan living area, a compact kitchen, or a spacious bedroom, a purposeful layout is the foundation of any well-functioning space.

Pro Tip: Use furniture placement to define zones within a larger room. For example, in an open-plan space, position your seating around a central focal point (like a fireplace or TV) while leaving plenty of room for circulation.

Check this page: best interior design company in bangladesh

2. Choose Multi-Functional Furniture

Maximizing functionality doesn’t mean sacrificing style. Multi-functional furniture is a key element in achieving the perfect balance between function and high-style. Pieces that serve multiple purposes—like a storage ottoman, a bed with built-in drawers, or a sofa that converts into a guest bed—help you make the most of limited space while keeping things organized and stylish.

Pro Tip: Invest in pieces that offer both form and function. Look for designs that are sleek and beautiful but also include hidden storage or adaptable features, like extendable dining tables or modular shelving.

3. Prioritize Comfort and Quality

No matter how stylish a room looks, if it isn’t comfortable, it’s not truly functional. High-quality, comfortable furniture should be a priority, especially when it comes to pieces you’ll use most frequently, such as sofas, chairs, and beds. A well-chosen sofa, for example, not only complements the design of the room but also provides the necessary comfort for lounging, reading, or entertaining.

Pro Tip: When selecting furniture, look for pieces that have both aesthetic appeal and long-lasting comfort. Opt for timeless designs made from durable materials that stand the test of time, such as leather or high-quality fabric for upholstery.

4. Use Stylish Storage Solutions

A stylish room isn’t cluttered or chaotic—it’s organized and streamlined. Smart storage solutions help keep the space tidy while contributing to the overall design aesthetic. Whether it’s sleek built-in cabinetry, open shelving, or decorative baskets and trays, storage doesn’t have to be an afterthought. In fact, the right storage pieces can enhance the overall design while keeping everything in its place.

Pro Tip: Incorporate storage solutions that are both practical and aesthetically pleasing. A vintage armoire can be as functional as it is beautiful, and floating shelves can provide storage while showcasing decorative objects or books.

5. Incorporate Statement Lighting

Lighting plays a dual role in both function and style. It’s essential for visibility and practicality, yet it can also serve as a focal point that elevates the design of the space. Statement lighting fixtures, such as oversized chandeliers, pendant lights, or sculptural floor lamps, can add a sense of drama and style to a room. On the functional side, layered lighting (ambient, task, and accent lighting) ensures that the space is well-lit for various activities, from reading to cooking to entertaining.

Pro Tip: Mix lighting types and layers to create a balance between function and ambiance. For example, pair a striking chandelier with recessed lighting or under-cabinet lights in the kitchen to add both flair and function.

Checkout this page: interior design company in bangladesh

6. Blend Style with Practicality in Materials

The materials you choose for furniture, finishes, and decor can make a big impact on the overall functionality and look of your space. Opt for materials that are durable and easy to maintain without compromising on style. Leather, wood, stone, and metals are all great options that offer both beauty and longevity. Choose finishes that stand up to daily wear and tear—think stain-resistant fabrics, washable rugs, and surfaces that are easy to wipe clean.

Pro Tip: When selecting materials, consider both aesthetic appeal and functionality. For example, a marble countertop looks luxurious but may require extra care, while a high-quality quartz surface offers a similar look with less maintenance.

7. Don’t Forget About Scale and Proportion

A key aspect of achieving the perfect design balance is making sure that every piece in the room works together in terms of scale and proportion. If your furniture is too large for the space, it can overwhelm the room; too small, and it might feel lost or out of place. The scale of your furniture should be proportionate to the size of the room and the function of the space. Larger rooms can handle more substantial pieces, while smaller spaces benefit from lighter, more streamlined furniture.

Pro Tip: Play with scale by mixing large and small pieces. Pair a big sectional sofa with a delicate coffee table or balance a large artwork with a smaller console to create visual interest while maintaining proportion.

8. Create Visual Harmony

Designing a space that is both functional and stylish requires creating visual harmony between all the elements. This means paying attention to color schemes, textures, and shapes to ensure everything complements one another. Choose a cohesive color palette that unites the room and use contrasting textures to add depth and interest. Whether it's through contrasting fabrics, contrasting light and dark tones, or mixing hard and soft materials, harmony is key to making the space both functional and aesthetically pleasing.

Pro Tip: Use a consistent color palette across walls, furniture, and accessories to create a harmonious look. Subtle variations in tone can create depth while maintaining a cohesive feel.

9. Personalize Your Space

Functionality is not just about organization and usability—it’s also about creating a space that feels like home. Personal touches, whether in the form of art, photographs, or unique decor items, can make the room truly yours. Personalization adds warmth and character, making the space not only practical but emotionally engaging.

Pro Tip: Mix functional items (like decorative vases or bookshelves) with personal mementos or family heirlooms. This ensures that the space feels both lived-in and thoughtfully designed.

Conclusion

Achieving the perfect design balance between function and style is about more than just choosing pretty furniture—it’s about creating a space that works for your lifestyle while reflecting your personality and taste. By prioritizing comfort, incorporating multi-functional pieces, and selecting materials that balance beauty and durability, you can create a space that is as practical as it is stunning. With the right approach, your home can be a true reflection of your style and your needs, making it both a functional sanctuary and a high-style retreat.

Related Post:  interior design company in dhaka

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How To Choose The Right Hotel Lobby Furniture For Style?

Choosing the right hotel lobby furniture can be a game-changer for any hotel. The lobby is often the first impression guests get of your establishment, so creating a welcoming and stylish environment is essential.

But with so many options available, how do you choose the right pieces to impress and serve your guests? Let’s dive into some tips to help you make the best decisions for your hotel's lobby!

1. Understand Your Brand and Target Audience

Before you start shopping for hotel lobby furniture, it’s crucial to understand your brand identity and the preferences of your target audience. Are you a luxury hotel catering to business travelers or a boutique hotel attracting families?

Luxury Hotels: Opt for high-end materials like leather sofas and marble coffee tables to create an upscale ambiance.

Boutique Hotels: Consider eclectic and artistic pieces that reflect the unique personality of your establishment.

Identifying your brand will guide your choices and help create a cohesive look that resonates with your guests.

2. Prioritize Comfort and Functionality

While style is important, comfort should never be overlooked. Guests often spend time in the lobby waiting for check-in or relaxing with friends, so ensure your hotel lobby furniture is comfortable.

Seating Options: Look for plush seating with supportive cushions. Sofas and armchairs should invite guests to sit down and unwind.

Tables and Surfaces: Choose tables of the right height and size for drinks, snacks, or laptops. A mix of coffee tables and side tables allows for flexibility in usage.

By focusing on comfort and functionality, you create a welcoming space where guests feel at home.

3. Consider the Layout and Flow

The layout of your lobby plays a crucial role in how guests interact with the space. Consider how you want guests to move through the area and arrange your hotel lobby furniture accordingly.

Create Zones: Designate areas for different activities—such as lounging, working, and socializing—using furniture to define these spaces.

Traffic Flow: Ensure the layout allows for smooth movement throughout the lobby. Avoid overcrowding the space with too much furniture, creating a cramped feeling.

A well-planned layout enhances the guest experience and encourages them to spend more time in the lobby.

4. Mix and Match Styles

Feel free to mix and match different styles of hotel lobby furniture. Combining various textures, colors, and designs can add depth and interest to your lobby.

Contrast Modern and Classic: Pair modern chairs with a vintage coffee table to create an eclectic vibe.

Incorporate Natural Elements: Use wooden furniture alongside metal or glass pieces for a balanced look that feels warm and inviting.

The key is maintaining a harmonious aesthetic that reflects your hotel’s personality while keeping it stylish and engaging.

5. Don’t Forget About Accessories

Accessories are the finishing touches that can elevate your lobby’s style. Consider adding:

Artwork: Bold paintings or sculptures can serve as conversation starters and enhance the overall decor.

Plants: Indoor plants or fresh flowers bring life to the space and improve air quality, making your lobby more inviting.

Lighting: The right lighting can set the mood. Use a mix of overhead, floor, and table lamps to create a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

These accessories can bring your hotel lobby furniture together, creating a cohesive and stylish environment that guests will remember.

6. Invest in Quality

Finally, high-quality hotel lobby furniture is essential for durability and longevity. Choose materials that can withstand the wear and tear of daily use, such as:

Sturdy Fabrics: Opt for stain-resistant upholstery that is easy to clean.

Solid Construction: Look for well-made pieces that won’t break or wear out quickly.

Investing in quality furniture will save money in the long run and keep your lobby looking fresh and inviting for years to come.

Conclusion

Choosing the right hotel lobby furniture is an exciting opportunity to express your brand’s identity and create a welcoming environment for your guests.

By understanding your audience, prioritizing comfort, planning your layout, mixing styles, accessorizing thoughtfully, and investing in quality, you can transform your lobby into a stylish space that leaves a lasting impression.