#High Gloss Tv Stand

[sweetdecoseo2023]

ALIA white glossy lacquered TV unit with LED and silver structure

[omarcfs]

Nostalgic Delights: Infusing Sustainable Entertainment into Modern Home Design

In an era dominated by digital technology and sleek furnishings, the resurgence of analogy entertainment is making its mark as a cherished trend in modern interior design. Embracing the concept of sustainability while paying homage to the past, homeowners are finding innovative ways to incorporate vintage delights into their living spaces. From showcasing a prized collection of vintage vinyl records to creating a haven for classic board games, the white high gloss TV stand becomes more than just furniture – it becomes a portal to an era rich in nostalgia.

As the world becomes increasingly conscious of environmental impact, sustainable living has taken center stage in various aspects of life, including interior design. The idea of sustainability seamlessly aligns with the concept of analog entertainment. Homeowners are opting for furniture that tells a story, with materials sourced responsibly and designs that stand the test of time.

The glossy allure of a white high gloss TV stand provides the perfect canvas for blending the old and the new. Imagine a turntable nestled neatly into the stand's compartments, surrounded by carefully curated vinyl records that breathe life into a bygone era. It's a symphony of sustainable design, where the tactile pleasure of handling vinyl meets the visual appeal of a glossy, eco-friendly piece of furniture.

Beyond the melodious hum of vinyl, the TV stand becomes a treasure trove for old-school board game enthusiasts. A collection of well-loved games finds its place within, waiting to spark friendly competition and cherished memories. The sleek, modern aesthetics of the TV stand juxtaposed with the timeless appeal of board games create a visual and emotional contrast that elevates the overall design.

In a world increasingly connected yet paradoxically disconnected, the trend of sustainable entertainment infused with analog elements offers a refreshing take on interior design. The white high gloss TV stand, adorned with vintage treasures, becomes a bridge between generations – a testament to the enduring allure of the past in a digital age. By embracing these nostalgic delights, homeowners not only create a stunning visual impact but also contribute to a more sustainable and meaningful way of living.

[lecter-starling]

Living Room - Contemporary Living Room

[bvtbxtch]

Stephen | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

“You’re my object of affection, my drug of choice, my sick obsession.”

Summary: 5 years since graduation, 5 years since you ran your way through Hawkins High, leaving boys in your wake…. Except one. Steve Harrington, apparent untouchable due to his infatuation with Nancy Wheeler. What happens when you see a worn out, former heartthrob with his fizzled high school flame stuck to him? Unhappy, feeling unloved and in a bind, you thought Steve could be the conquest of the night… or so you thought.

Pairings: King!Steve (Kinda) x Toxic!Fem!Reader

Content warnings: smut, angst, fluff. Non canon au. Steve and Nancy are together from Steve’s senior year to the time of the story. Cheating (emotional and sexual), p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), Reader defs isn’t a girls girl but I couldn’t help it, alcohol consumption, one night stands, stealing, public sex. This is definitely 18+ MDNI!!!!!

WC:

A/N: Hi babies I have returned with something a little bit different from my little hiatus and am super excited to try something new! This fic is inspired by the song Stephen by Ke$sha! I hope you like it!! I love you all!

The pounding in your head mirrored that in your heart as you remembered the burn of alcohol down your throat from last night. Your makeup had been smudged off onto your pillow, some still remaining on your swollen, hungover face. The day after drinking anxiety had reared its head, but a wave of nerves hit you like a ton of bricks when a vision of you writing your phone number on Steve Harrington’s arm - more or less in front of his girlfriend - faded into view. 

You cupped your hands over your face and your shoulders shook. You couldn’t help but giggle at the picture of her porcelain face twisted into a bout of jealous rage. You could fully admit to yourself that you lived on the side of delusion, but there was a piece of you that wholeheartedly believed that your former king of Hawkins High would call you. 

And yet, you sat and stared at the phone perched silently on your nightstand while you nursed your hangover all day. The bright afternoon light evolved into an evening glow and still you hadn’t heard the shrill ring. You put on records and VCRs. You flicked through magazines and tried to pick up the new Danielle Steele book you had pocketed from the bookstore on main street. But the soundtrack of your thoughts was the hope that the telephone would ring and that you would hear a smooth baritone voice calling you. You fought to keep your eyes open while the blue light of your TV laughed back at you. You finally surrendered to the sleep your body had been pleading for, the blur of the night previous finally making itself clear in your dreams…

-

The music at the dive bar had been blaring. You were on your upteenth drink courtesy of Eddie Munson. The first time you had come to the Hideout it was your senior year, freshly 18 and ready for an adventure. You had snuck in with a fake ID and eyed up the curly haired 21 year old behind the bar. His eyes had been glued on you since you had walked in. Well, you worked your charm and lo and behold, Eddie had you bent over the chipped porcelain sink in the staff bathroom. After the orgasm you gave him, he knew he would owe you for a while - and free drinks you received ever since. You flashed him a wink as you downed the third tequila shot of the night. Your plump glossed lips twisted into a smile after looking at the winces of Heather and Chrissy. The three of you had moved a half an hour outside of Hawkins to the bigg(er) city of Indianapolis, but you felt the need to parade your luxurious city life to the hasbeen jocks of Hawkins High that frequent the only legit bar in town. You couldn't count on both hands the number of guys you had toyed with that now loitered around the musty pool tables and bar tops. By the time you graduated and got a job, you thought of yourself as a big fish in a small pond. You were ready to break big city hearts and leave the lame Hawkins lifers behind. That couldn’t be you. But there was always one that got away - one that you hated to admit was one guy that scared you, solely because you would let him domesticate you if he asked. 

The girls beside you let out a small woo as another shot was sent your way, this time courtesy of Jason Carver who had fastened himself a seat on the other side of the bar with yet another Hawkins Hasbeen, Andy Robinson. You raised the small glass to your lips with a devilish smile across the bar. Jason still had his abs like he did when you graduated. Owning the small weightlifting gym on the outskirts of town had its perks, you guess. You looked at Chrissy and rolled your eyes with a snicker as the burning liquid slid down your throat. At least if you didn’t get lucky with someone else tonight, he would be there and more than willing to give you a half assed orgasm in the back seat of his beat up jeep cherokee - better than ending the night alone in your books (and probably his). You scrunched your eyes closed and a flash of stars lit up the darkness behind your eyes. You opened them to blurry vision, the feelings in your fingers were being replaced with warm fuzz. You knew that if you were to get off your barstool your knees would raise hell. You let out a euphoric giggle. This is just what you needed.

You heard a small “well, well, well,” slur out of Heather’s bowed lips as two new figures emerged through the metallic doors of the bar. ��Surprised to see Harrington out here. Isn’t his past his bedtime? You know I remember…” Heather’s voice faded away as you honed in your focus to the pair at the door.

Nancy Wheeler - her obnoxious perm and housewife dresses… You couldn’t help but hate her. She was everything you weren’t: safe, boring, square. Her manicured hand rested in a much larger hand, and that hand was attached to toned arms in a light cotton crewneck. You couldn’t help but feel the saliva pool in your mouth. Nancy looked up to her beautiful brunette with her stupid doe eyes and he flashed her a small cautious smile. They stuck out like sore thumbs. She didn’t belong here, but Steve Harrington was too good looking to be in this shitty bar. It’s like your friends could read your mind. Chrissy pinched you in the side and Heather let out a childish giggle.

“Don’t even think about it, Y/L/N. Nancy’s had him on lock since, like, junior year.” You were well aware. 

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll be smart…” You challenged. Your friends were very aware of your determination. If you wanted something, you got it. And Steve Harrington was on the menu. You watched the handsome couple stalk to one of the tall bar tables across the room from your seats. Steve’s eyes locked with yours and you licked your lips. No matter how hard he tried, like a magnet, your gaze kept him locked on you. The man felt a tug on his arm as Nancy shuffled him to the table. As their conversation lulled on, you couldn’t help but attract Steve’s eyes again. You waved your arm to Eddie for another shot.

“I think it’s time to have some water, doll” the mophead behind cooed. For the first time tonight you ruffled through your purse to find a folded 20 dollar bill. You placed it in the hem of your bustier and flashed your sultry eyes at Eddie.

“You want a tip or not, Munson? I think I have already shown you how much I appreciate your customer service.” The man’s cheeks grew flushed as he grabbed the bill out of your chest with nimble fingers - hoping that his hands didn’t slip. Another tiny glass full of liquid in front of you. Before you put it to your mouth, you raised your eyes to Steve, his mouth slightly agape, having seen the performance you had just put on at the bar. You raised the shot glass to him in salute, he blushed and turned his eyes back to his girlfriend. God, his fucking girlfriend. 

He watched your neck tilt back as the burning liquid slid down your throat. He had to stifle a small chuckle at your scrunched face at the reaction to your shot. Steve always thought you were effortlessly beautiful. But you were dangerous. A junior when he was a senior, he knew about the boys you had left in your wake. He made sure to stay away, betrothed to the girl sitting across from him at the bar. He sighed a choked breath of relief when Nancy coldly told him she was going to the bathroom then to get them some drinks. He let his shoulders shrug and rearranged his pants, which were a bit tighter than when he walked in. He wasn’t left in his silence for long. His shoulders shifted back up to his ears and his cheeks grew hot when he saw you saunter from the bar in his direction. His heart was in his throat and beating harder than ever. What the fuck was happening to him?

Your moment to strike happened when you saw Nancy’s pleated dress slither out of her barstool and towards the bathroom. You mirrored her and pushed your wobbling legs one in front of the other. You carried two glasses of brown liquor with you. Your face was calm and cool, but your hands were shaking as you crossed the dingy hardwood over to a beautiful head of hair. 

“So, what is King Steve doing in a place like this?” You didn’t dare take Nancy Wheeler’s spot. You wouldn’t want to be compared to the likes. You leaned your torso over the table, edging closer to the man than you would be on a stool. You preferred it that way, and you had a sense that Steve does as well.

“I could ask the same thing to you, Y/N.” He mumbled, but you can tell his confidence was growing.  “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Who told you I’m a nice girl?” You purred. “You looked thirsty over here, and I thought, since you’re in my domain, I could show you some hospitality.” You slid the drink over to him with a black painted fingernail and picked yours up and stirred it suggestively. 

“Bottoms up then.” Steve grabbed the glass and clinked it to yours. Your heart stopped as you watched the beautiful man’s neck strain upwards to take his drink in one gulp. It took all of the drunken strength you could muster to not sink your teeth into his strong neck. His Adams apple bobbed in strain and the liquor made his cheeks bloom a darker red than they already were. You sipped half of your drink, desperate to relieve some of the tension running through your body, but you felt like you would completely crumble if you downed it all in one go.

“So.. you and Nancy… That’s pretty… serious?” You couldn’t help the venom that seethed out of your lips. Steve cleared his throat and stared into the bottom of his empty glass. He shrugged his shoulders. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Trouble in paradise, King Steve?” you jest. 

“Nah, It’s just… it's been a few years I guess.” Steve’s voice was cold. You sighed audibly. The alcohol and the pure lust was getting to you, and you could barely contain yourself.

“Too bad… the word on the street is I could treat you much better.” You could barely bring yourself to look into his eyes, but when you did, you were met with an intense stare. You couldn’t read all of the emotions behind his eyes, but it made your core quiver. 

“Word on the street is you know how to treat a lot of people.” Steve scoffed. His defenses were up. Why in the world were you coming to him now? He had always stolen looks at you. He knew how magnetic you were. He wished he knew you in high school. Maybe then he wouldn’t be stuck working at his dad’s law firm. With a girlfriend who he felt stuck with; no sense of adventure, no true love in sight. But then you sauntered up to him and made his heart believe in life again.

“Well you aren’t wrong. But I only have eyes for one right now.” You winked. 

“Wish we could have had this conversation three years ago…” Steve whispered, hoping that you didn’t hear him. You were delectable, and laid out in front of him; and he knows that if he were to have a few more drinks, he would have forgotten all about the girl that he had come here with - his… girlfriend. Fuck, his girlfriend. You flashed him a pout and a disappointed smile. You had him eating right out of your hand. 

“Well… Let me give you this.” You pulled out a sharpie from your purse and pulled his wrist towards you, pulling up his sweater sleeve. You began to scribble your phone number onto his olive skin. You had to breathe slowly to keep yourself from shaking. “Call me tomorrow if you want to pretend it was three years ago.” A look of need flashed on your face. You had been absorbed by Steve Harrington. It had felt like all of the bar had disappeared and it was just the two of you. Steve could feel that too, he had you right where he wanted you, totally absorbed and infatuated. You couldn’t help but think of Nancy and it made you shiver. You couldn’t have her invade this. Fuck his stupid girlfriend. You were determined to make Steve Harrington yours. 

The two of you stayed transfixed on each other for a moment more. Steve fixed his gaze between your face and the new ink that you had given him. He wanted to nurture it like it was a real tattoo. You couldn’t help but take mental pictures of Steve’s face, so you could imagine whatever meathead you ended up taking home that night was him. You wondered what he would look like underneath you, gasping and panting for breath. What his skin would taste like: sweaty and sweet and musky. You wished that you could take his fingers and put them in your mouth right now. You were thirsty, parched for his lips on yours. You wanted to show him what you looked like underneath him, you wanted him to hear you moan his name. You wanted to fuck his brains out, the way you knew Nancy “White Bread” Wheeler doesn’t. You were connected, and it scared you because for the first time in forever, you wanted to fuck, but you also wanted him to hold you, to tell you that you’re beautiful. You wanted him to hold your hand and buy you flowers and take you out. You wanted to cook for him and play with his hair and rub his back. 

You were torn from your world when you heard a small ‘ahem’ from behind you. Steve quickly adjusted his posture and pulled his sweater sleeve over his new love mark. You stood up straight and turned to see the frizzy haired brunette tapping her pleather pumps at you… tacky, you thought. 

“Can I help you with something?” She peeped. “Or is there another reason why you’re over here talking to my boyfriend?” Nancy’s angry eyes flicked between the two of you and her brow was furrowed. Your gaze had hardened and you couldn’t help but chuckle; she looked like a toddler and an old woman at the same time. Steve’s cheeks remained a rosy pink. He had found whatever was on the floor oddly interesting. You took a step towards the girl.

“Nothing at all, darling. Just thought I would say hello to an old friend and grab him a drink.” You breezed past her, knocking her lightly on the shoulder. 

“See you around, Harrington.” You sang behind you. You couldn’t see her anymore, but you assumed that if looks could kill, you would be on the floor. You strutted back to Chrissy and Heather and slumped back to your stool. You exchanged mischievous glances with the girls, and then turned proudly to Eddie, who was flashing you a disappointed look. A victory for you, a loss for Nancy Wheeler - or at least you hoped.

Steve continued to stare at the ground while Nancy eyed him suspiciously. 

“What the hell did she want, Steve?” she pried. Steve huffed before looking up at her. Her eyes didn’t glimmer at him like yours did. 

“She just came over to say hi…. I hadn’t seen her since Senior year.” 

“Did you even talk to her senior year? You know the reputation she has…I don’t like her, and I don’t like her talking to you, Steve,” within the past year, he had thought of Nancy more like his mother than his girlfriend. He had been growing more and more confused lately. The love seemed to be lacking and he had caught himself wondering what his life would be like if he left it all behind, left her behind and started over. You made the idea of abandonment way more appealing. He felt himself growing unreasonably angry with the blue eyed girl sitting across the bar from her. He needed to defend you. You were the only thing on his mind.

“Who the hell cares, Nancy? What do you think that she was going to do? Fucking make out with me in front of everyone? She asked how we were doing. She asked about you and me. Chill out and have fun or let’s just get out of here.” He scowled. Nancy was taken aback and slid a chilled PBR across the table to Steve with a scoff. She drank her vodka cran in silence. Steve couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to your figure laughing and smiling with your friends. He wanted to laugh with you. He downed his drink, took Nancy's hand silently and pulled her towards the door. She had a permanent frown on her face as Steve pushed her through the door. Before his body disappeared from the door, he took one more glimpse at you. Your eyes locked one last time and you sent him a wave as he disappeared into the Hawkins night. If he couldn’t have you, he’d fuck Nancy until he forgot about you. 

It was 3 am and your body literally couldn’t peel itself off of the plastic bar stool. Chrissy and Heather had gone home with Jason and Andy - your appetite spoiled when you watched the only person you wanted to be with leave the bar without you. You heard the stomps of old reeboks and the jingle of keys come up behind you. The lights had suddenly gone out.

“Come on, doll. Let’s get you home okay?” Eddie pulled you off the stool and wrapped your arm around his shoulder. 

“Can you stay over, Teddie?”

“Not this time, honey. You need sleep and you need water. You aren’t thinking straight.”

You pouted quietly, but you decided to finally take no for an answer. The thought of sinking into your bed and hoping - praying - that Steve would call you.

Steve had pulled Nancy into his bedroom of his parents’ empty house. He feverishly pulled at Nancy’s belt as she fumbled with the zipper at the side of her dress. Steve’s mouth didn’t leave her skin, and his eyes remained shut, save to navigate himself around his house. A flurry of clothes, soft sighs and sweaty skin. Steve had only had two drinks, but he felt drunk thinking of your encounter at the bar. He pressed his eyes closed as he mouthed at Nancy’s chest, wishing it was yours. He slid down her torso pondering what sounds you would make if he was kissing towards your sweet center. He pulled Nancy’s panties to the side and swiped his tongue along her heat, thinking about how delicious you would taste. He then flipped Nancy over on all fours and slid into her with a grunt. He couldn’t stand to look at her, wishing her body was yours, wishing her sounds were yours, wanting to hold you in his arms after. Steve finished quickly, his perversions towards you spurring him on. 

The couple collapsed into Steve’s king bed. Nancy traced small circles on his chest while they caught their breath. Steve felt satiated, his hunger for you ebbed, for now. 

“Steve! What’s on your arm?” Nancy yelped. Steve’s heart dropped into his chest. He frantically turned himself away from his girlfriend. Nancy’s small hands grabbed Steve’s shoulder to turn him back to her. Her nails drug down to the tattoo you had given her boyfriend and her face began to heat up.

“What the fuck is this, Steve?”

-

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[beautification-tales]

The Talk Show

Gina, a tomboyish skater with a baseball cap and baggy clothes, was sitting on the hood of her beat-up car when she received the call. The producer of a new talk show about sports had seen her shred the halfpipe at the local skate comp and wanted her on the show. She didn't hesitate; the chance to be on TV and showcase her skills was too good to pass up. So, here she was, waiting in the green room of the studio, her heart racing and her knuckles white from gripping her skateboard so tightly.

The door opened, revealing a tall, stylish woman with a perfectly coiffed bob and designer clothes. It was Karen, the producer. Gina stood up, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. "You must be Gina," Karen said, offering her hand. "I'm Karen. I've been looking forward to meeting you. We're going to have a blast on this show."

As they walked down the hall, Karen explained that the first order of business was to get Gina ready for her debut on the show. They entered a luxurious dressing room, where a team of hair and makeup artists were waiting. Gina felt a little uneasy as they started to fuss over her, but Karen assured her that it was all part of the process. They sat her down in front of a mirror and began to apply foundation, concealer, and blush to her normally bare face. Then they brushed on some mascara and lip gloss. Gina couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, but she trusted Karen's judgment. They fixed her hair by taking it out of the hat and styling it so that it fell upon her shoulders and covered her forehead.

Once they were done, Karen led her to another room where a stylist showed her the wardrobe she was to wear. It was a form-fitting, black dress, shiny sheer black pantyhose and louboutin black stilettos. “Wait, why do you want me to put this on? What does this have to do with skating? I can't skate in heels, that's just stupid," Gina protested. Karen smiled reassuringly and said, "Trust me, this is all part of the show's aesthetic. It's not just about your skating skills, it's about your entire image. You're going to look amazing and turn heads. Now put it on, we don't want to keep the crew waiting."

Despite her misgivings, Gina put on the dress and heels. As she stood up, she felt self-conscious and unsteady in the high heels. Karen, noticing this, laughed and said, “You look amazing Gina. Trust me this is how we get viewers hooked. Once they're hooked they will listen to every word you say.” Gina was still skeptical but she followed Karen out of the room and onto the set. “Oh one last thing, let's have you wear this necklace too.” Karen said as she handed her a gold chain with a tiny skateboard charm. Gina reluctantly put it on and it felt warm on her skin. Immediately she felt a bit better as her posture straightened. She thought she was imagining things but it was like her breasts felt heavier. She looked back and admired her ass. “Hmm my training has been paying off.” She said to herself.

As they walked onto the set, Gina couldn't help but feel like a fish out of water. The bright lights, the cameras, and the excited chatter of the crew made her heart race even faster. Karen led her to a comfortable chair where she could wait for her cue. As she sat there, Gina glanced down at the skateboard charm around her neck and tried to remind herself why she had agreed to do this in the first place. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.

She listened to the host begin to speak, his voice booming through the studio. The audience laughed at something the host said, and Gina felt a pang of nervousness. "And now," the host continued, "let's bring out our special guest for today's show! Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Gina, the tomboy skater who's taking the skate park scene by storm!"

Gina's heart leapt into her throat as she heard her introduction. She forced herself to stand up and walk towards the center of the stage. The lights were so bright she could hardly see the audience. The heels clicked on the floor as she was surprised how well she walked in them now. As she stood there, the host flashed her a winning smile and embraced her with a slight hug. He led her to her seat as she sat down."So, Gina, tell us a little bit about yourself," he said, his voice smooth and charismatic.

She took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. "Well, I've been skating for most of my life," she began, her voice not as shaky as she'd expected. "I started in a local park with my friends, and I just fell in love with it. I mean, there's nothing like the feeling of flying through the air, spinning and flipping on my board. It's just...freeing." The audience laughed at her enthusiasm, and she felt a tiny bit more at ease.

Gina crossed her legs as she felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her body. It felt so good as she squeezed her legs together. “So Gina you really clean up nicely for a tomboy” the host said with a grin. Gina blushed as she realized he was flirting with her. “Well I’m usually wearing sneakers but I had to look my best for you Craig” she replied playfully. The audience laughed and cheered as they were enjoying the banter between the two of them. “Hey now! Careful or I might have to take up skating!” Craig joked.

“I can gladly show you the basics. You know I know my way around a halfpipe.” Gina smiled. She didn’t understand where this charisma had come from. She was usually quite awkward but looking into Craig’s eyes she felt amazing. Gina felt the tingle between her legs intensifying. She licked her lips and pulled at her dress and re crossed her legs. Another bolt of electricity shot through her system as her mouth opened. “Are you sure you’re a tomboy?” Craig teased, causing the audience to laugh even harder.

“I can be anything you want me to be.” Gina said, her voice dripping with sensuality. Gina felt like she was having an out of body experience watching someone else in control of her body. The audience in unison went “ooooh” as some male voices hooted in approval. “Damn Gina I think I’m buying my skateboard right now.” Craig joked pulling out his phone acting like he was browsing to shop. Gina felt her insides melt as she stared into his eyes, her heart racing.

Gina found it more difficult to hide the pleasure she was feeling. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to breathe normally. “Like I said nothing better than riding that sturdy piece of wood.” Gina closed her eyes as her body tensed. The audience was silent with a few gasps. Craig readjusted himself in his seat and took a sip of water. “Ahem well Gina thanks for coming on the show and making us all skateboarding fans.” He smiled.

“My pleasure” Gina replied, her voice throaty and sultry. The sensation in her body was becoming almost too much to bear. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to find some relief. As the segment came to an end and the audience began to applaud, Gina felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. What had just happened? She had never been so flirtatious or confident before. She couldn't believe how easily the words had flowed out of her mouth.

Karen greeted her backstage as she led her to the dressing room. “Wow Gina just Wow!” She showed the immediate responses that the show's social media received. “Bring Gina back!” , “We love Gina!”, “That woman is a smoke show!”, “Instant Fan!” The positive reviews were overwhelming as Gina’s phone started buzzing like crazy with notifications. “Feel free to stay and relax. Craig will probably want to come by and say thank you. Gina… you were amazing!” Karen gushed.

Gina sat down on the comfy couch as she felt her nerves calm down. However, the pleasure was more intense as she slowly slid her hand between her legs. The pantyhose was beginning to feel so slick as her wetness flowed from her panties. She rubbed as she held back her cries as she watched Craig end the show from her television. “What a great show We had tonight. I want to thank Tom Brady for being on and the up and coming huge star Gina White… She's going places! Good night everyone!”

Gina put her head back when she heard her name. “Up and cummin,” how appropriate she whispered.

She heard a knock on the door and took a deep breath. “Come in” she said as she fixed herself on the couch in a seductive pose. It was him. Craig. The man that she had just flirted with on national television. He walked in and smiled at her. Gina felt a flutter in her stomach. She didn't know what to say or do. "Hi Gina," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "That was... well, that was something else. I can't believe how confident you were back there. You were amazing."

“Thank you, I’m usually so awkward and nervous but tonight. It’s like I knew what to do and it felt so… natural.” Gina blushed as she looked at her lap, playing with the hem of her dress. Craig walked over to her and sat down beside her on the couch. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Yeah, people love to see flirting. It’s a fun act to put on.” He whispered.

“Who said I was acting?” She grabbed Craig’s collar and pulled him in for a kiss. His lips were soft and tasted like mint. She felt his hand slip under her dress, tracing circles over her hosiery covered thigh. She moaned into the kiss, her body melting against his. He deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth, their tongues tangling together. Gina reached down and unbuckled his belt, then undid his pants, freeing his hard cock. She stroked it slowly, feeling the heat and the length of it against her palm. "I was serious. Nothing better than riding some hard stiff wood," she whispered.

Craig broke the kiss, breathing heavily. "Then why don't you show me just how good you are at it?" He said as he guided her upon his lap. He grabbed her ass with a hard spank as he ripped her pantyhose open. She grabbed the couch, slipping her wet panties to the side as she lowered herself onto his cock. He groaned as she took him inside her, her tightness sending waves of pleasure through his body. She began to ride him hard, her hips moving in a rhythm that was both sensual and demanding. The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment. “Oh you are definitely coming back to the show.” Craig gasped as she leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest. She ground her hips against him, feeling the familiar tightness building inside her. With a final thrust, she arched her back, her orgasm crashing over her in a wave of pleasure. She moaned his name as her body trembled from the release.

“Mmm Craig I’m cumming multiple times tonight alone.” She restarted riding him as their moans echoed in the room.

Meanwhile, just outside Gina’s dressing room Karen and a Production Assistant were listening. “Karen, I think we can pencil her in next month but I think you put way too much charisma spell on the necklace.” The Production Assistant said as she smiled. Karen shook her head in disagreement. “You hear that in there? That’s the sound of future ratings and advertising dollars in all our pockets.” She grinned as she put her ear back up against the door. The sounds of their moaning and breathing filled the hallway, sending a shiver down her spine. “Yeah but what happens when Gina becomes addicted to fame and beauty… she won’t be doing much skating then.” The PA said with a worried tone. Karen smirked. “ From what I’m hearing. She won’t mind at all.” Karen walked away as she turned back to say one more thing.

“Anyway that’s show biz.”

[tareray]

New Years Eve- Xavier Thorpe

"Here," Enid says as she hands me a flier.

"A New Year's party, really?" I ask her.

"Yup, Thornhill helped me get it approved," she tells me while still handing flier out to people.

"Party's aren't really my thing," I tell her.

"You're coming," she declared for me.

"Why do I have to?" I ask her.

"Because you are my friend and you should support my hobbies," Enid says.

"I didn't know party planning was a hobby," I say to myself.

"Fine, I'll go," I tell her.

"Great make sure you get there at 10," she tells me as she walks in the direction of another group of people. I start walking in the direction of my art class when I hear my name being called.

"Y/n," someone shouts my name. I turn around to find Ajax.

"Oh hey Ajax," I say with a smile.

"Hey," he says back a little out of breathe from having to catch up to me.

"I saw you talking to Enid," he says.

"Yeah she is forcing me to go to her New Year's party," I tell him.

"Oh do you think she uh has a date?" He asks me nervously.

"No probably not. I bet she was to busy planning the party to worry about a date," I tell him.

"Oh uh great thanks," he tells me with a smile.

"You're welcome, I'll see you tonight," I say to him as I walk into the art room and take my see beside Xavier.

"Going on a date?" He asks me with a frown.

"What?" I question confused. Then I realize he meant Ajax.

"Oh you mean Ajax. No, he was asking me if Enid had a date to her New Year's party," I tell him.

"Are you going to the party?" he asks me.

"Yeah, Enid is making me go. If I had a choice I would definitely just stay home," I tell him.

"Oh," he says looking at me with a frown.

"Are you going?" I ask him.

"Uh yeah probably," he tells me.

"At least I'll have someone to talk to at the party then," I tell him with a smile.

"Definitely," he says back. After class is over I pack up all my things and start to head back finish my homework before the party. When I look at the time I see it's almost 9 PM and I quickly start to get ready for the party. I curl my hair and decide to leave it down.  For makeup I did a natural base with just some smoked out brown eyeliner and for my outfit I chose to wear a sparkly sliver button up, a black mini skirt, and some knee high black boots. I quickly add some last minute lip gloss before heading out the door.

At the party

When I get to the party it's about 10:15. I get myself a drink then try to find Enid. When I see her she is talking to Ajax and I don't want to interrupt so I start trying to find Xavier instead. When I find him he is sitting in the corner with a drink in his hand looking at the floor.

"You know most people try to have fun at parties," I say to him as a take a seat next to him.

"Oh hey I was starting to think you stood me up," he tells me with a small smile.

"Me stand you up? Never," I tell him with a smile.

"Why are you sitting in the corner alone?" I ask him.

"I was thinking," he tells me.

"What were you thinking about?" I question.

"There is this girl I want to kiss tonight but I don't know how to tell her," he tells me with a frown.

"Don't tell her. When the ball drops just turn to her and ask to kiss her," I say back trying to make things easy for him.

"Okay," he says with a smile. For the next almost two hours Xavier and I just sit there and talk. When it's 11:55 we get up and I pull him towards the crowd of people around the TV.

"Aren't you going to go find the girl you want to kiss?" I turn and ask Xavier.

"Oh uh," he starts to say something but gets cut off by everyone screaming.

"Happy New Year," everyone screams.

"Happy New Year Xavier," I tell him with a smile.

"Happy New Year Y/n," he says.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yeah," I whisper back as he leans into kiss me. I kiss him back right away for a couple seconds until I pull away.

"I was the girl?" I question looking into his eyes.

"Obviously," he says before he kisses me again

[internetgremlin-writes]

The Twelve Drivers of Christmas: Day Two

Movie night had been a long-standing affair between yourself and George.  You couldn’t remember exactly when it had started, after a bad race at Williams when he was still just a rookie with big shiny eyes and the world at his feet.  When crashing felt like the end of the world and seeking comfort was deeply embarrassing.

You’d found him curled up in his driver’s room and after virtually carrying him through the most painful round of interviews you’d had to sit through since you’d started your job several years ago as a PR girl he’d slunk off back to the hotel.  Something about the way those blue eyes seemed to swim with heartbreak mellowed something inside of you and before you knew it you were knocking on the door of his hotel room at midnight and barging your way in.  Maybe you couldn’t remember the date but you remembered forcing him to watch Legally Blonde, because he had no idea what a ‘comfort movie’ even was.

After that, movie night became a bit of an unspoken tradition.  After a particularly tough day George would appear at your hotel room door with a bag of popcorn and eyes you couldn’t refuse and you’d let him pick out a film and snuggle down in your bed and forget the brutal world he came from for a few hours.

You moved to Mercedes for him, your job role morphing from his media manager to personal assistant.  You both grew up, grew into the world you’d entered so young.  Bad races no longer felt like the end of the world, but you were both so used to the routine that you never questioned it when he still turned up and he never missed an opportunity.

It was in Abu Dhabi, for the final race of the season where everything changed.  George was ending his best season yet, and still riding high off the rush of his first ever win just a week prior.  Everyone was out celebrating, and you were in your hotel room putting on the finishing touches of your makeup before you went out to join them when an unexpected knock at the door made you jump.  

“Aren’t you supposed to be out?”

“Hello to you, too,”  George looked only mildly put out at your greeting, but when you’ve just beaten your 7-time World Champion teammate to overall 4th place in the driver’s championship, you can’t look too sad about anything.  “Can I come in?”  You left the door open and retreated back to where you were sat in response.  You heard the door click shut behind you and the quiet shuffle of George removing his shoes told you he’d followed you in.

“You look great,”  You sent him a closed-eyes smile over your shoulder.

“Thanks,”  He was sitting on the egde of your bed, hands folded neatly in his lap as he watched you swipe a layer of shiny gloss across your lips and make a playful kissy face at yourself in the mirror before finally turning to face him.

“Did you wanna head down together?”  You asked, head cocked slightly to the side.  George didn’t usually attend parties with you, even team events you tended to just find each other there.  He shook his head at you.

“C’mon, last one of the season?”

“Georgie boy, you’re aware everyone else has been partying for several hours already?”

“Pick a short one then,”  He’d shuffled back so he was propped up against your pillows, leaving you to crawl over and mimic his body language until you collapsed next to him.  He handed over the remote control to the TV with flamboyant circumstance and let you flick through the aimless pages of Netflix until something cheesy and terrible caught your eye.

“It’s November,”  You reasoned at his raised eyebrow in response to the movie splashed across the screen.  George simply rolled his eyes and nodded, gesturing for you to press play as he settled down besides you.

An hour into a cheesy brainrot Christmas film you’d already forgotten the name of and you were starting to feel the error of your choice.  After being steadily single for the last two years the gaudy couple finally getting together on screen were not as soothing as the bend-and-snap scene always felt.

“What?” 

“What?”  George was looking down at you, somewhere between confusion and amusement written across his pristine features.

“You’re sighing,” 

“Am not,”

“You are,”

“These people make me sick,”

“They’re characters,”  He reasoned, a grin starting to tug at the corner of his lips.

“So?  They’re making me think about another year with every Aunt, Uncle and random Cousin asking me where my new boyfriend is.  My family are obsessed,”  George made a noise at the back of his throat that you hoped was at least somewhat deep in thought.

“Mine are the same,”

“Ugh,”  He nudged you playfully.

“Ugh indeed,”

*****

It wasn’t until two weeks later you were reminded of the mid-movie conversation by George. 

I have an idea.

Four words had never frightened and intrigued you so much.  You met him at a cafe the next week.  He was wearing a cream jumper and sipping on a coffee like he owned the place.

“Go on then,”  You started, only once a gingerbread latte was situated in front of you, accompanied by an obnoxiously sweet pastry.  “What’s your grand idea?”

“Me and you,”  You raised an eyebrow at him, not following why he looked so pleased with himself over something that had been long, long established.  “Okay, listen, I’ve thought about it a lot and it makes sense.  What if I come with you to your Christmas and you come with me to mine?  We’ve worked together for so long, it’s not hard to imagine us stretching to dating is it?  I trust you, I like hanging out with you, what’s the harm in letting the annoying aunts and uncles believing there’s a bit more to it?”

For starters, you could name several harmful things that could hatch from George’s plan.  But he was looking at you with ocean eyes and batting those lashes you couldn’t pay to get close to and you already knew you were going to cave and give in, because, you could be honest, who wouldn’t want to walk into Christmas day with 6’1 of drop dead gorgeous Formula One driver draped over you?

And that’s how you found yourself over a month later, George’s fingers intertwined with yours and resting on your thigh, a gesture that had become alarmingly familiar over the last few weeks.  You were currently attending your fifth and final family event as a ‘couple’.  It was a New Years Day party, something only a family like the Russels would hold.  You were perfectly content to sit in your hangover and feel deep, deep shame for whatever things you’d gotten up to the night before under the influence of tequila shots, but no.  George’s family were up at 9am, you’d already been out on an intensive dog walk that involved nothing short of scaling the side of a hill.  George had taken your jacket (you were sweating too much to be able to wear it, even if it was two degrees) and then had virtually carried you up the final few meters to save face at the top.  You’d giggled and twisted in his arms and called him ‘babe’ and all the things you were supposed to do.

You’d had a large dinner and to wash it down the family were sat around the fire sipping whiskey and slowly getting louder and looser.  The weight of George’s hand on your lap was grounding you, bringing you back to reality as you were passed another drink, a gin for the ladies.  He squeezed gently as you thanked his great-aunt Gretel for the tipple and that sudden, shameful feeling snuck back into the pit of your stomach. 

You’d noticed it creeping up more and more frequently over the month.  It was almost predictable, because it always happened when George did something so natural you forgot for a moment you weren’t dating and your mind leapt to the possibility of it being real and tangible.  You’d never felt anything like that for him before, and you still weren’t sure you did.  But you couldn’t deny the way your stomach would swoop when he touched the small of your back as you walked ahead of him, when his eyes found yours through a crowded room just to check you were okay, when you caught him chatting to your mum as if they were old friends. 

The fire was dying, you were exhasuted, two weeks of rich food and strong drinks finally catching up with you.  Most people had gone to bed, and it was just George and a handful of people left, they were speculating over the testing for the next season.  It was all talk you’d heard a million times before and you were happy to let the words wash over you, the fire and a labrador’s head on your feet leaving you feeling fuzzy and content in a home that wasn’t yours.  You allowed your head to drop onto George’s shoulder, the material of his jumper soft against your cheek.

You felt him turn to glance at you, before letting out a low chuckle and wrapping his free arm around your waist, allowing you to relax further into his body as he continued to talk.  

The physical contact was a new thing too.  You wondered if it would have always felt so good to have him so close?  Had you missed out on years of cuddling against him during movie night, always separated by the invisible barrier of friendship?  He was a good sleeper, too.  That had been an awkward obstacle at first, there’s a certain expectation that when you bring your partner home that you’ll be sharing a bed, especially during the visiting season.  The first night George had tried to sleep in the armchair in your room, but when you’d woken up at one o’clock to see him still awake you’d invited him in.  It had started off normal enough, backs facing each other and just ignoring the warm weight of another person right besides you.  You’d woken up with George’s face buried in your neck, his arms wrapped around you and holding you tight against his chest.  You didn’t talk about it, but the pair of you just got into bed together, and you let him spoon you from the start.

“Hey,”  He nudged you gently, just enough to stir you from the cozy half-sleep you’d been in. 

“Hi,”

“Come on, we’re the last ones up, let’s go to bed,”  You nodded sleepily, standing up and stretching lazily, letting the sleeves of his jumper flop back over your hands.  They never stayed rolled up for long on your anyway.�� The dog at your feet rose and stretched in time with you, you gave her a scratch on her head before she quietly padded over and flopped into the bed by the fire, which George had quietly put out. 

You followed him up the wooden staircase, trying not to giggle too much at the creeks. 

“It’s a good job they put the deaf ones by the stairs,”  he whispered, head titled in the direction of the spare room a set of his grandparents were currently staying in.  George had a big family, and you loved it.  Yours wasn’t big, but it was close.  It was nice to feel surrounded by people who loved him so dearly, and by extension, you.

You nearly walked into George, who’d stopped in the small patch of landing at the top of the stairs.  

“What are you doing?”

“Look,”  He pointed upwards.  Hanging off the lights was a wizened bunch of mistletoe.  “Mum always forgets to take one down,” 

George’s mum was obsessed with mistletoe.  You’d learnt that the hard way, and many (far too many for your liking) cheek kisses had been placed for the explicit entertainment of distant relatives.

“If you drool on my cheek again I’ll punch you in the stomach,”  you warned him, referencing the last kiss, that had been encouraged by milky-eyed Greta.  It was a good job she was losing her sight because George had thought himself funny enough to end the kiss by licking a stripe along your cheek. 

You hadn’t payed attention to the way his arms had snaked around your wasit.

“What are you doing?”  He was too close, it was triggering that swooping feeling again.  You could hardly make out his eyes in the dimly lit gloom of the darkened house.

“Would it be so bad if I kissed you?”

You couldn’t answer even if you’d wanted to.  George was fogging your mind and he was leaning closer and closer and the only thing you wanted was to taste him. 

“No,”  You whispered, so close your lips were already brushing as you gave him the word.  His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he kissed you properly.

It was sweet, chaste almost.  It felt revered and special and not at all how kissing your best friend should feel, you thought as your eyes fluttered shut and the swooping intensified into a surge and your whole mind and body ached for him.  He pulled away too soon, wet eyes and dopey smile giving him away.

He didn’t kiss you again until you were settled in bed, facing each other for the first time.  He let you shuffle as close as you could get, brushing a hand through his hair as he rubbed patterns along your hip.

“I’ve got an idea,”  he whispered against your lips.

“No more ideas, George,”

“You’ll like this one,”  he held your cheek so tenderly it made you want to cry.

“Tell me,”  you told him between ineffectuate pecks at his lips.

“What if it’s real, you and me?”

“I think it has been a bit real,”  it’s funny how the dark lets you admit things you’d never normally.

“What if it carries on, being real, after Christmas?  After the break?”  He was kissing your cheeks, your nose, anywhere he could reach on your face.

“I think I’d like that,”

You fell asleep against his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay I never thought I'd be into George but this was so much fun to write and fake dating warms my s o u l

it's pretty late so i'm gonna leave you guys with this and pop in tomorrow to edit and check in

Mr Pierre Gasly is next up on Tuesday 06/12!

[k4tie75]

_____________________

A/n hiii I’m a hopeless romantic it’s obvious at this point the amount I write about weddings 😭😭

This might be really shit idk?

This has been proofread but only by me, at like 3am 😭

Warnings: getting high outside a church, bit cheesy icl but cute?

Word count: 2k

Summary: Iris met Matty 17 years ago, today they're getting married and Iris’s mum retells the story of how the pair met.

"And do you Iris Jane Thomson, take Matthew Timothy Healy to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?" Asks the officiant

"I do." I reply with eyes glossed by tears.

Matty smiles warmly at me.

"And with that i now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride" the officiant says to finish the ceremony.

He doesn't have to ask Matty twice because right after the officiant is finished speaking Matty grabs my waist and catches my lips in a kiss full of all the love and adoration we have for eachother.

A while later after the meal, my tipsy mum makes a toast, she starts retelling the story of how Matty and I met.

"Iris and Matty met at mine and Ted's wedding 17 long years ago" she drunkenly giggles placing her hand on my step dad Ted's shoulder.

17 years earlier (2007)

Todays the day, Mum and Ted are finally getting married.

I'm woken up at half 4 to my very cute 5 year old sister Ella, who very clearly has no sense of time crawling into my bed and asking for her favourite TV show.

I didn't deny her request because who could say no to that face and I needed to be up soon anyways.

I put it on, got up and headed to the bathroom to get freshened up.

When I come back she's fast asleep, snoring quietly so I turn the TV off and tuck her in, because no one wants a grumpy, sleepy toddler moping about on their big day.

I spend the rest of the morning helping mum and eventually getting Ella up and ready.

I then get myself ready, I get into my bridesmaid dress.

It's a simple light blue full length dress that matches the other bridesmaids.

Next i do my hair and makeup and run downstairs to see my mum all dolled up and in her dress talking to the other bridesmaids about table settings or something.

She looks gorgeous and i make sure to tell her right before the fancy car that she hired shows up.

I pick up Ella while the other bridesmaids take mum's train so it won't get dirty and we all get in the car, feeling like royalty.

After the lavish ride we make it to the church and get ready to walk down the Isle to the row at the front but all of a sudden mum in a rush introduces me to the groomsman I'm walking down with.

"Iris this is Matty, Matty this is iris you two are walking down together you might need to help Ella with the flowers, okay love you, go! go! go!"

"Love you too" I reply and then take the hand that Matty, a boy I've never met has extended and walk down the Isle with him.

Ella does her flowergirl duties perfectly and when we reach our seats she sits in between me and Matty.

The ceremony is lovely, I cry a little because of how beautiful it is.

I catch Mattys gaze briefly land on me but quickly move away.

After the ceremony the drinks hour begins, I don't really get the chance to see Mum or Ted because their being kept busy with the other guests.

When Ella spots Gran she's running into her arms, with that big gappy smile everybody loves.

I'm sitting at one of the tables picking at my nail polish while i listening to some older lady that claims she hasn't seen me since I was 3 drunkenly ramble on about how she's had 4 husbands in 50 years, honestly the story's quite interesting at the start but quickly becomes confusing.

So I'm ecstatic when someone says my name in an attempt to get my attention.

"Uhm, hey iris" the unfamiliar male voice says.

I turn around and see Matty standing there looking down smirking.

"Oh! Uh Hey Matty" I reply surprised.

He looks up and nods his head to the door, silently asking if i wanted to go outside with him.

Thankfully someone else sits down at the table and the older lady's attention quickly switches to them.

I take that as my chance to leave the table and go with Matty.

When we get round the back of the church he goes into his suit pocket and pulls out a small plastic container with two joints, he pulls one out, lights it and takes a puff.

After exhaling he asks.

"You smoke?"

"Sometimes" i reply airily.

His lips curl into a small smile as he offers me the joint.

I take it and inhale deeply, his gaze is fixated on my lips as i blow out the smoke slowly.

I pass it back to him.

"Fuckkkk thought wedding's were ment to be fun" I say.

"What so hearing about some old lady drone on about her divorces isn't how you planned to be spending your parents long awaited wedding?" He jokes

I laugh and so does he.

The conversation flows nicely, the joint gets smaller and we get closer untill we're inches apart.

He stubs out the roach on the wall and places a hand on my jaw, making my breath hitch.

My eyes travel down his face until they pause at his lips.

He does the same and leans down to catch my lips in a soft kiss.

Although he quickly pulls away and mutters an apology.

However I pull him back in just as fast and this time it's a much deeper kiss, messy but hungry.

Maybe it's the weed or just Matty in general but this is the best kiss I've ever had.

He tastes of weed and cheap alcohol.

I thread my fingers through his hair and his already strong grip on my waist tightens.

We kiss untill we run out of oxygen and pull away from eachother gasping for air.

"Fuck me, that was hot" I say under my breath.

Unfortunately Matty hears me and half jokingly says.

"Anytime"

I don't get the chance to reply because I hear Ted calling my name from around the front of the church.

"Shit" I whisper and fix my hair so it doesn't look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards.

I look apologetically at Matty giving him a quick peck on the cheek before I run off.

"Hey Ted" I say trying not to sound out of breath and seem sober.

"Oh thank god iris your mother- where on earth have you been, are you high?!" Ted says shocked.

"Uhm i was round the back of the church crying because I'm so happy for you and mum" I say making the crap lie up on the spot.

He sighs, smiles and shakes his head knowing that you're not telling the truth but as long as you're having fun and are safe he's fine with it.

"Okay hun, I know you're high but please atleast act normal because your mums inside waiting for a dance with you"

"Go on" Ted says nodding his head towards the door with a kind smile on his face.

I go inside to dance with my mum, thankfully she's too drunk to realise I'm High.

Infact she's so drunk that when she sees Matty with a sour look on his face sitting next to his mum after hes being caught High she calls him over.

When he notices I'm standing there too his expression changes to a boyish grin and his once slow walking pace quickens.

"Mattyyy" mum says with a dopey smile when he reaches us on the dance floor.

"Hi Mrs Thompson" he replies.

"Ohhh don't be silly call me Janet hun" she correts him.

Before he gets the chance to reply she's speaking again.

"Well the reason I called you over is because I noticed how darling you and iris looked together during the ceremony and I was just thinking how cute it'd be if you two danced together"

Matty doesn't even take time to think it over before he replies.

"Yeah sure, I mean as long as Iris wants to."

I look down and smile.

"Yeah okay"

"I'll leave you two too it!" Mum says excitedly before she runs off abandoning the rushed conversation to talk to Denise.

"Soooo" Matty say as a slow song comes on.

"Soooo" I mimic with a giggle.

He awkwardly places his hands on my waist and I loosely wrap my hands around his neck and we start swaying in time with the music and the awkwardness fades.

After a while of comfortable silence between me and Matty he breaks it and whispers to me.

"You're gorgeous"

I feel my cheeks get hot and I know I'm blushing.

This only makes Matty smile more.

"Thanks, you're not so bad yourself" I reply

Out of the blue he kisses me on the cheek.

We grin at each other and continue dancing but then some pop songs start playing so it's a bit more chill and the two of us properly dance together and have a laugh, the weed still effecting both of us but that was kind of the point.

An hour or so later we're both exhausted and go find a table to sit at.

Mattys phone goes off and that must be what inspired him to ask for my number.

I put it in his phone and that's when Denise comes over and tells him they have to go because Louis is just about falling asleep.

As much as Matty tries to convince his mum to leave without him she doesn't budge and soon enough they're saying their goodbyes to everyone.

Just before Matty leaves we make eye contact and he holds his hand to his ear like a phone, mouths call me and winks.

I instantly get butterfly's for like the millionth time today.

I blow him a kiss, which he pretends to catch and put it in his pocket.

I smile at the ground and when I look up he's gone.

My phone buzzes and I know exactly who it is.

"Cya x"

Present day

Both me and Matty are crying happy tears as the story wraps up.

It feels like it was only yesterday we were behind the church sharing a joint and our first kiss.

"Love you" Matty says to me quietly.

"Love you too" I reply before he pulls me into a soft loving kiss.

_____________________

Okay that’s all 😭

we don’t talk about how girlies mum knew all of the story (cause she didn’t how could she?)

Hope you liked it idk the next time I’ll write cause my satvb show is next week and idk how I’ll live my life after that so it might be a while.

Love yous xo

[theladycarpathia]

I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below

Prompt: Microwave Dinner

Billy doesn’t even hear Max until the microwave dings.

“You’re going to burn it,” she grumbles, as she waits for him to pull the crappy microwave dinner out. Billy bites back a curse as the steam singes his fingers.

“It might improve it,” Billy mutters, because the charcoal might actually add some flavor to the mounds of dry potato, carrots and turkey. That was all Neil and Susan had left behind in the fridge for them and Billy wasn’t about to waste his limited funds on grocery shopping.

He waits for it to cool before he tugs off the film and hands it to her. She doesn’t wait for him before she bolts back into the living room and whatever show she’s chosen.

Of course not.

He shoves in the second tinfoil tray in the microwave and puts in the allotted time. While it spins slowly on the plate he leans against the kitchen counter, ignoring the faint sounds of Max turning the TV volume up too high. It would be fine if her choice of entertainment weren’t such trash.

He didn��t know exactly what he was expecting but it wasn’t this.

The microwave dings again and he yanks open the door, tugging the tray out onto the counter and staring at the bland dinner that is apparently all his eighteenth birthday is worth.

He hadn’t expected a lot. But Neil and his stepmother vanished out of the door, leaving him with a microwave dinner and babysitting duties wasn’t it.

Even Max has barely acknowledged the date, instead piling into the Camaro after school, flushed and ten minutes late after the bell. There was a vaguely shifty expression on her face when he’d asked why she wasn’t on time, a defensiveness in the way she’d hauled her skateboard onto her lap. Billy figured she’d just been caught up with that boy and let it go.

At least someone has friends who care.

He grabs a fork and follows Max into the living room. She’s curled up on the couch, legs tucked up underneath her. Her red hair is twisted into two thick plaits and that alone probably says something about how much she’s grown. When she was little, she never used to bother, keeping her long red hair loose around her face. But these days, she wears cute t-shirts, twists her hair into little knots, keeps a lip gloss on her bedside table. 

“Slow down,” he mutters, carefully juggling the hot tray while he peels off the film. Max barely blinks as she shoves dry mashed potato into her mouth.

“It’s fine,” Max says, licking her lip.

“Fine, choke, see if I care,” Billy says flatly and Max smirks.

“You wish,” she retorts. She chews furiously on her last carrot and stands up, empty tray in her hands. “Can I go? I’ve got homework. Here, you can have this.” She doesn’t even wait for an answer, instead chucking the remote control down next to Billy. Billy feels oddly empty as she vanishes, leaving him alone with the jarring sounds of the TV and his rapidly cooling dinner.

He tries not to care. No one’s really given a shit about his birthday since his mom left. Neil certainly didn’t. For a few years after Max and Susan turned up, there was at least cake and a few wrapped presents. Usually shit that Neil thought was an appropriate gift, rather than Billy actually wanted but at least the day was acknowledged. There was a card waiting by his plate at breakfast this morning and that was it. No tapes, no basketball, no socks, or any of the usual shit he gets stuck with. 

It would have been fine, except he’s not heard from…he’s not heard anything all day. He half expected the BMW to be waiting for him in the parking lot - not that with his expected babysitting duties, they could even have gone to the quarry like normal - but it just wasn’t there. Billy had kept an eye on the road while he was waiting for Max, just in case it pulled in late.

But it didn’t and Billy was well and truly crushed.

He gets it. The day Billy Hargrove was born was a celebration to no one.

He morosely eats his meal, barely even tasting any of it. When he’s done, he gets up, figuring that he may as well clean up. If Max is in her room for the night maybe he can watch something decent.

He gathers up both containers and retrieves Max’s abandoned cutlery from the side. He knows the drill. His birthday will not save him from a bruised eye if the kitchen hasn’t been cleaned.

Max sticks her head into the kitchen just as he begins to run the tap. He tries his best to ignore her but she walks over to him like it’s any other day.

“What do you want, maggot?” Billy grunts, because he fully expects her to ask for dessert. Which, aside from a few old bananas and some stale chocolate chips from Susan’s last happy homemaker baking binge, they don’t have any of.

“Come with me,” Max says firmly. Billy digs his heels in, because he can, because he’s had enough, because he’s eighteen and no one cares.

“Get lost, Maxine,” he says, slamming the cutlery into the sink far harder than he really needs to.

“No, you have to come with me now,” she insists and actually grabs hold of his wrist. Her fingers are thin and delicate around his skin, faint flecks of blue nail varnish on her fingers. Billy stares at her resolute face and wonders how much Susan would mind if he tied up her only child and strung her up from a flagpole outside the high school.

“And I said I don’t want to,” Billy repeats. “I have to clean up.” Max looks behind him at the few items in the sink, the discarded packaging from their dinner and makes a face.

“I’ll do that. Seriously, we only have an hour,” she says, pulling on his arm like she thinks she can move him. “Will you come on? It’s for your birthday.”

Stunned, Billy lets her pull him out of the kitchen and down the hall.

“You got me a present?” he asks incredulously, and Max raises her eyebrows.

“Sort of,” she says vaguely and Billy winces as she twists his skin as she tries to bolt headlong down the hallway. “I had to sort it, that’s why I was late. I didn’t know Mom and Neil were going out for sure until this morning and then I had to use the phone…”

To Billy’s confusion they pass right by her room. Max stops in front of his door, her eyes unusually bright.

“One hour,” she instructs, turning the door handle. “That’s all. I’ll set a timer. And I’ll put the radio on.”

“What the hell do you…” Billy starts to say, as she opens his door and pushes him inside. She slams the door behind him, shutting him in darkness.

“What the hell?” Billy starts, before his words are cut off by a rap at the window.

He nearly shits himself when he sees the face at the window.

“Steve?” Billy hisses incredulously, hurrying across to undo the latch and yank the window up. Steve heaves himself up onto the windowsill and grins.

“Happy birthday,” he says and Billy has to take a step back to let Steve slither into the room.

“What the fuck?” Billy says, because apparently his boyfriend and his sister have been conspiring behind his back all day. Steve lands awkwardly on the carpet, a tangle of limbs and hair and good humor, despite his bad landing. Billy quietly shuts the window again and turns around. But he’s not dreaming and Steve Harrington is really standing in his room. Polo shirt, denim jacket, a lump of car keys in his pocket.

“Thought I was going to get arrested,” Steve says, brushing back his hair from his face in a motion that never fails to make Billy’s stomach dip. Steve’s windswept, his face flushed from the cold and the illicit trip through Billy’s window. “I swear I was going like seventy down Cornwallis.”

“How did you…?” Billy starts, but Steve’s looking around with interest and Billy realizes that Steve’s never been in his room before. There’s a flicker of shame in his belly, because he’s been in Steve’s palatial house, slept naked in Steve’s huge bed, and his own room feels small and dingy by comparison. But Steve noses with interest at his assorted hair products, the scantily clad girls on the calendar, the leather bracelets on his dresser, like he’s actually interested in the effects of Billy’s life. 

“I thought you’d forgotten,” Billy says quietly, and Steve sits down on Billy’s single bed. He smooths a hand over the plain blue cover and Billy wonders if that’s why Max was so obvious about the fact that she’d have music on.

“I was going to come visit you at school,” Steve explains.“But Max called this morning and said that your parents were going out. So we planned this instead.”

Billy drops down onto the bed next to Steve, feeling a little stunned that they went through the effort. If Neil and Susan hadn’t gone out, Max probably would have skated to the arcade to buy Steve and Billy some time. But instead, she’d arranged for Steve to come here, ensuring that they’d at least have some time together.

“Your sister is terrifying,” Steve says frankly, perhaps because he can see the gears turn in Billy’s head. He does that - fills the silence with talk when Billy starts to feel a little overwhelmed. “And I say that in comparison to my ex-girlfriend and a kid with superpowers. She called my house at fucking ass o’clock and demanded I get my butt down here.”

“Did she call you again?” Billy asks, suddenly suspicious of Max bolting her dinner. Steve winds his fingers into Billy’s, his skin a little cold from the sharp March bite outside. 

“Yeah, she wanted to be sure that it would be dark and your parents hadn’t come back early,” Steve says easily. “She said I had to use the window…?”

“Mrs Haversham is a nosey bitch,” Billy says bluntly and Steve bursts into startled laughter.

“Yeah, she said that too,” Steve says, fondly. He suddenly starts digging into his jacket pocket with the hand that’s not entwined with Billy’s, finally tugging out a small blue box. Billy lets it drop into his open palm, feeling almost raw. He hadn’t expected more of a present, but here’s Steve bringing him fucking jewelry.

When he opens it, it’s a chunky silver ring, the kind that Billy likes to pick up from thrift stores. Only he gets the feeling that this one is a little more expensive and when he peers at the inside of the band, he catches a glimpse of an engraving in the dim light.

“I thought your dad wouldn’t notice if it looked like all the others,” Steve says, like he’s expecting Billy to hate it. Billy stares at the tiny writing, trying to figure out all of the letters by the slim sliver of moonlight. The delicate curve of a S, the double loops of a B, the matching twin shapes of the two Hs…Steve had their initials carved into silver, instead of into a tree, and somehow it’s just so fucking Steve. 

Billy carefully slides it onto a finger and then, because it’s the only way he really knows how to show gratitude, he flashes Steve a suggestive grin.

“Max said we only had an hour,” he points out, grabbing for the bottom of his shirt and tugging it over his head. “I wonder what we can do in an hour?”

The glitter in Steve’s eyes suggests that he knows what Billy’s doing, that Billy will thank him with his mouth, even if it’s not by words. But he curls his hand over Billy’s ring finger, carefully brushing against the line between skin and silver, and smiles anyway.

“I think we should find out,” Steve says and loops a hand around Billy’s neck to pull him in.

[ninebluehearts]

MY BRAINS GONE BLANK AAAAHHHH-

since im obsessed with dorm room mark (by @) maybe reader/OC going on a date being in a relationship and it becomes serious and it suddenly creeping up on marc how much he misses her aka marc being in loOvE. but he thinks he's not good enough for her bc it marc so self loathing :((

idk its 10pm i tried

I'M OBSESSED-

Summary: Marc is overwhelmingly in love with you. You're overwhelming in love, just not with Marc..

Warnings: Some serious sadness up ahead, my dudes.

A/n: First fic in awhile y'all! Hope you enjoy it!

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

Marc slumped against the frame of your bedroom door, watching as you swiped the wand of a red lip gloss across your lips for the second time, concealing the pink of your lips with the dark red liquid.

"You look like a hooker." Marc said, a smirk creeping onto his lips as you glared at him. "A lovely hooker, if it makes you feel any better."

"You're not funny." You said, shoving the wand back into it's respective tube and tossing it into your makeup bag, knowing you'd be back for it later into the night. "Does it really look bad?" You asked as you swiped your finger under your bottom lip to remove the excess gloss.

"Where are you going? I thought we were gonna watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off and eat the brownies I made?"

"Out." You zipped up your black, thigh high boots and threw your bag over your shoulder, brushing past Marc and heading to the bathroom.

Marc followed you, leaning against the closed door. "So, you're gonna ditch me for Marvin again?"

"You know that's not his name!" You stifled a laugh, not wanting to reward Marc's petty jokes. "It's Mark with a K and you know it." You said as you pulled open the bathroom door, tossing the hand towel at Marc.

"Yeah, Melvin. That's what I said." Truth be told, Marc felt guilty for loving the fact that they basically had the same name. It meant that late in the night, when you thought Marc was asleep across the dorm, and when you screamed Mark's name, Marc could pretend it was his own. It always felt so, so wrong. But also so, so right.

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around Marc's neck as you pulled him into a quick, tight hug. "If I'm up for it, we can do your thing when I get back, okay?"

Marc just nodded, trying to be discreet as he buried his face in your neck and took a deep breath, relishing in the scent of your perfume against your warm skin. It was truly intoxicating.

Before you pulled away, you leaned up and gave Marc a small peck on his cheek, leaving a red kiss mark on the skin. "Oh shit- sorry about that," You said with a laugh, hurrying towards the door. "I'll see you later."

Once the door was closed, Marc slowly reached up and gently touched his cheek, chills running down his spine as he replayed the moment over in his mind. "I love you." He whispered, knowing you would never love him the same way he loved you.

-

You never did come home. Marc knew this because he fell asleep on the couch waiting for you last night. He woke up with brownie crumbs on his shirt and the main menu for Farris Bueller's Day Off on the TV. "At least I had a good time last night." He mumbled to himself, taking a sip of his warm beer that had been left on the coffee table for the past six hours.

You know that's not true, mate.

The voice in the back of his mind said to him, though he continued to ignore it like he always did. He picked up the glass container that held what was left of his brownies and the warm beer and left them on the kitchen counter.

After that, Marc took a long, hot shower, waiting until the water turned to freezing to slowly scrub the smeared, red stain off of his cheek. A sense of defeat washed over him; defeat, guilt, and anger. You weren't his. You never would be. He had no right to feel this way. And the more he told himself that, the worse he felt.

When Marc left the bathroom to grab a shirt from his room, you were standing in the kitchen with Mark, both of you so engulfed in each other's kiss that neither of you noticed him standing there.

Marc walked back to his room and slammed the door, finally pulling you back to reality. "Marc?" You called out, dashing over to knock on his door. "Hey! I'm sorry I didn't make it home last night. We fell asleep watching a movie." But you were met with absolute silence. "Marc?" You knocked on the door again, but still received no answer.

You felt two arms wrap around you from behind, followed by Marks face pressing against your neck. "Hey, I've gotta go."

"Okay. I'll see you tonight?" You turned around to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into another lengthy kiss.

"Definitely." He breathlessly whispered against your lips. "Unless I pay a visit to you around lunch?" He said with a smirk, his hand slipping down your back to grab your ass.

"Mark!" You squealed with a laugh, reluctantly pushing him away.

"I'll text you." Mark gave you one last kiss, then went on his way.

You rolled your eyes, a stupid smile stuck on your lips. You knocked on Marc's door once again, jiggling the lock this time. "Let me in Marc! I've gotta talk to you!"

Silence.

"Fine, I'll talk through the door." You slipped down to the floor and sighed. "Ughh, I think I'm in love. I just had the best night of my life with Mark. He took me to that fancy restaurant that I've been dying to try, then we went to his friend's house to have a game night, then we went back to his place to watch When Harry Met Sally. Amazing, right?"

Silence.

You reached up and knocked on the door again. "Are you mad because I didn't eat your weed brownies Marc Spector? Because now is not the time to be petty, my love!" You called out with a small giggle.

Silence.

"Well, I hope you come out later, because I'm getting us drinks to celebrate tonight! But for now I gotta get to class." You stood up and brushed off your dress, then pressed your hand against Marc's door. "I love you Marc. God, you're like the brother I never had. You're my best friend." After a moment of waiting for an answer, you walked away, a small pit of disappointment twisted around in your stomach when you were once again met with silence.

Once Marc heard your bedroom door shut across the dorm, he finally allowed the broken sob he had been holding in to come out. And once it was out, there was no stopping the others that followed it out, each one racking his body harder than the last.

Marc Spector had fallen in love with you, and he couldn't see a way out.

Taglist: @hot-mess-express1

[irishhills]

fragility

Eliza goes about the day in a stupor after finding out she’s on the prom court. The Class of ‘92 got together to vote on five prom princesses before they choose their queen, and she’s one of them. She’s not sure how to feel when they put that plastic tiara on her head. Two and a half years ago, she would have been desperate for it. She would have thought it was the best and only way to get noticed in all the right ways. For boys to think she was beautiful, for other girls to think she was worth talking to. So she could relate to her mother.

But now … now, she’s not sure what to feel. Everything’s happened in such a weird way. She hasn’t had a real boyfriend since Luke, and that was two years ago. But as of last month, she’s not a virgin, either. She’s not a virgin, but she hasn’t talked to the boy she slept with since the night she slept with him. She hasn’t even told anyone, except Blair, who swears she would never tell Chris, no matter how much she might want to. Two and a half years ago, Eliza thought this little plastic tiara was her ticket to love, beauty, sex … all of it. It doesn’t seem to mean much now. Just a sign that being the yearbook’s main photographer puts you at the front of people’s minds, even if you’re the one behind the camera. People want your lens to notice them, so they notice you. Even if they didn’t mean it.

She asks to go to the bathroom in the middle of fifth period, which feels like a silly thing to do. In a few months, she’ll be in college, and if she asks a professor the same question, they’ll look at her like she’s nuts. But these are the last weeks of high school, and hall passes are a necessary evil. She takes a slip of yellow paper from her teacher’s desk and wears the crown all the way down. When she gets to the bathroom, she grips the sink and stares at herself in the mirror. A real cinematic moment. Part of her expects “About a Girl” to start playing out of nowhere. Isn’t that the kind of song that would go here? Blair would know, but she wouldn’t understand the stress. The stress of a cheap tiara.

Eliza hears one of the stalls swing open. Over her shoulder, she sees Amy in the mirror, too. They politely smile at each other. It’s been a long time since they were really friends, but Eliza has never stopped loving her. She has never stopped hoping they could be friends again.

“Nice move on the prom court,” Amy says, and she really means it. Eliza can tell.

“Thanks. Sorry. I know you would have liked to be on it.”

“Eh, maybe. But homecoming court makes you ineligible, and I’m good with being homecoming queen. Don’t know how I pulled out that win.”

“Couldn’t have anything to do with you being popular and beautiful.”

Amy laughs like she doesn’t believe it, but Eliza knows she does.

“You don’t like it,” Amy says, almost out of nowhere. “Do you?”

Eliza’s heart stops.

“Don’t like what?”

“Being on the prom court. Having that kind of attention. Any of it.”

Eliza doesn’t say anything. There’s really no use in lying to Amy. After spending all of third, fourth, and fifth grade telling each other ridiculous secrets about TV star crushes, dream careers, and fantasy outfits, she knows Amy can see right through her. There is a kind of transparency that only comes from being children together. It never goes away.

“It’s just weird,” Eliza says, “to have that many people looking at me. I’m the one who’s usually looking at them, and now … I don’t know, do they expect me to take pictures of myself?”

Amy laughs a little. She shrugs, takes out a tube of lip gloss, and applies in the mirror like this is a normal conversation. Perhaps it is.

“The thing that got me,” Amy says, “was the fragility. You take off that crown, and it’s so cheap. It just … breaks without you even having to bend.”

“Did yours break?” Eliza asks. “Your homecoming crown?”

Amy shrugs again.

“I think so,” she says. “I kinda don’t remember.”

She waves goodbye and leaves without another word. Eliza still stands over the sink, and the crown still rests atop her head.

She’s not going to do anything on purpose, but she wishes it would fall off and crack in half. Just because.

(part of @nosebleedclub february challenge -- day 16!)

[vashtijoy]

fic excerpt: akechi at thirteen

Here's another excerpt from the unpublished fic mountain. Akechi is thirteen, and turning increasingly bad—on the inside. CW child abuse and neglect, obviously.

. . .

When Akechi is thirteen, he’s living with his uncle Hiro over a greengrocer’s in Nerima. Nerima is renowned for its beauty, for its sprawling parks and for the rows and rows of cherry blossom that line the river. But the older he gets, the less easy it is to distract Akechi with pretty trivia, like cherry blossoms and ice cream and stars. They’re just a gloss over the reality of the world.

Nerima borders Saitama Prefecture to the northwest; it gets its prettiness from being about as far from civilisation as is possible, within the twenty-three special wards of Tokyo. It’s also about as far as you can get from Akechi’s original middle school, the one he won the scholarship to. I’m not paying for you to ride the subway every day, his uncle had droned, in his horrible voice that drags itself along like a drunken bee. Do you think I’m made of money? You can use that time to work in the shop.

Akechi had bowed, of course, and said yes, sir. He’s an old hand at eating shit by now. There are always different things they want him to do, different perfections he has to embody—whether to protect himself, or to keep his place, though these days he’s not stupid enough to expect that. Or just for practice, to entertain himself. Who cares if his plans are in pieces at his feet? If his father will never notice a boy with a public school education? Before long Akechi will be back in the city, and his old school will take him back; they’ll have to. He was one of the best students they had.

So: school every day. Homework in his lunch hour, and self-study too, because he’s getting more and more behind; his uncle has cut his cram school days to two plus weekends, even though Akechi gets a subsidised place by now—what? you don’t need to go every day, who do you think you are?—because he wants him to work in the shop, even though the only thing Akechi wants to do with fruits, or vegetables, or the customers, for that matter, is to hurl them repeatedly at the wall until they stick.

It’s not like he has outlandish plans—be the best, get into the best high school he can, study law, go into politics, destroy his evil father. A whole lot of boys all across Japan have those ambitions—with the possible exception of the last; a whole lot of boys starting from a much higher place than he is.

But almost none of Akechi’s relatives understand that those things are important. They want him to stay quiet, stay out of the way. Work in the shop, clean the house or car, run errands—and when he does all those things with a smile, they ignore him, just like when he brings home perfect report cards. Eat less, like he’s not two years into puberty. Sleep less restlessly with the TV blaring and the family yelling at each other around him. Little things like that. And none of them have been interested in him at all. More like the money they can pull in, for fostering a child.

Isn’t it all that way, though? The teachers at school—aren’t they in it for what they can get, as well? Even the ones who encourage Akechi, who seem to care if he does well—they don’t care about him. They just get points for helping him. They’re graded on performance, like Akechi’s graded on his schoolwork. Like the customers who walk into the shop and smile at him in his green apron—so young, so cute, so well-turned-out!—while Akechi stands there bowing and irasshaimaseing, and he helps them with their purchases and tells them what’s in season (because of course he knows), when all he wants to do is tell them that they sound like toads, or that their children are ugly, or that he hopes the carrots and lotus roots he’s exquisitely bagging up give them cancer. Little things like that. Beautiful smile, best bow, hand them the bag with both hands, thinking to himself the whole time, I hope your faces rot off.

Eventually it becomes routine, like all the other roles he’s played, all the other boys his so-called family have expected him to be. He doesn’t know why they haven’t stuck him in a home. Shame, probably; his extended family continue to scrape by in various parts of the city, and some aunt or uncle or cousin can always be guilted into taking on the shameful burden he is. At least for a couple of weeks at a time. By now, Akechi is the best houseguest in the world.

.

He’s still top of the class, through his own refusal to give up and his year at a private school, more than through the hands of any god. He has his own space, the attic above the tiny flat above the shop; he’s cleaned it up as best he can, and propped his futon on pallets so nothing can get in his hair. It doesn’t matter that the attic is unheated; he only sleeps up there. Everything is under control.

By now, he quite enjoys working in the shop. You’re such a good boy, croons an old lady in the shop, seeing her feckless grandson, probably. And of course Akechi smiles and thanks her, he has a gift for bullshitting, he’s a born salesman; at this point he thinks half of these women only come in to talk to him. Just to offer him a few words of impersonal praise, and spend all their money on salad or fruit or mushrooms they don’t need.

They don’t know him. They don’t ask his name. He’s playing a role, again, an actor on a stage. But he feels warm when they praise him, when they talk about how hard he works. Even while he’s cursing them in his head, those curses have no power, because someone has noticed him. Just like when his teachers praise him, even though their praise means less than shit, and only the weight of numbers, accumulating week after week like grains of sand, means a damn thing.

He’s not allowed to use the front entrance to the shop. But when he passes it, he sees the sign: 八百屋, yaoya, “eight-hundred-things shop”: greengrocer. He remembers, dimly, reading it over and over, for a woman with long fingernails and no face, a cloud of perfume with legs.

.

At school, he has more friends than ever, at least in general terms. He’s friendly and makes jokes; he’s confident and laughs at himself; he draws a crowd and people like him, because if you don’t get good at making connections, when you constantly move from place to place, you drown. Of course, there are the few who really hate him, who glare when he passes and would push him just to see him fall. Akechi is friendly to them when necessary, like he is to everyone. But he marks them in his head to be wrecked, when the opportunity and the excuse arise. People with grudges are so easy. Mind you, he thinks that about everyone.

He doesn’t know what he’d be, if he couldn’t charm a crowd. Probably one of those scruffy animals who sulk at the edge of class, who get sent home for having their hair dyed blond or blue or pink, who scowl like they’re on to society, but too stupid to fight it. That will never be Akechi, just because he can lie with his whole face and body, and make people like him. If he’s polished, and cute, and accomplished; if he lies fluently and makes others feel good about themselves, they have no idea he’s some leader’s castoff child. They don’t know he’s parentless and unwanted, that he’s only ever had a mother. They accept him for what he seems to be, for what he puts out into the world. Indeed, if he’s a good enough liar, then what he says goes, doesn’t it? The stories he tells about himself decide the truth.

At least, until somebody asks for his papers. Which are registered at his grandparents’ house, the one place, sometimes, he thinks he has never stayed at, never visited. One child, mother only (deceased), no father: his existence is a stain not only on his missing father’s life, not only on his own life, but on his grandparents’ lives. His grandparents, that he’s never met. A stain that can’t be erased even if he dies. Because Japanese society is simply that rotten.

So if he wants to get off on a few worthless old ladies cooing over him, who gives a shit, exactly? Nobody knows about it, nobody can see through him because nobody sees. They see what they expect to see, they hear what they expect to hear, and if you understand that….

Well, you can do anything. Can’t you?

.

The thing is, Akechi is smart enough to know he’s not unique. But he’s also sure he has insights nobody else could possibly have. Nobody has ever wanted him; that’s just a fact. His mother must have wanted him, or she wouldn’t have kept him, but she also didn’t want him enough to stick around. All the family he’s been landed on—nothing he could do was ever enough for any of them. He’s exceptional, and he’s still never good enough to break through the wall of their indifference.

And it’s not even just his family. All of Japanese society is the problem. Lies and smiles and formal language, all hiding uninterest and self-interest. A fixation on blood children and propriety that means children like him rot, an empty box on a family register and a woman leaving home alone enough to tarnish a whole family for life. It’s all rotten to the core.

And nobody who didn’t live it would even notice. Because nobody cares about anything they don’t have to.

Even the lies he tells others are society’s fault. He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he? He’s great at being anyone at all, other than himself. A walking hall of mirrors and masks that’s sometimes labelled Akechi-kun, sometimes tenin-kun—“Master Shop Assistant”—far, far less frequently Goro-kun, and typically these days at home a curt Hey, you.

[becameundone]

( nakamoto yuta. cis man. he/him. bisexual. ) ⇝ hey, isn’t that tomo katsumura? i think that the twenty-eight year old from los angeles, usa works as a film actor (currently transitioning to stage work at the single carrot theatre), but outside of that people describe them as dancing cigarette smoke illuminated by flashing city lights; neon rays in red and blue; the glow of an old tv set in a dark room; bottles of fizz and bags of shimmer; the rattling chime of silver jewellery. i hear they are erratic & impulsive, but they are also known to be charming & energetic. consider giving them a visit at their home in the marionette and get to know why they’re called the burnt-out star.

TW: drugs & alcohol, car crashes, mental health issues (incl. suggestions of derealisation), stalking, parental death/suicide

FAIR WARNING BEFORE WE GET ANY FURTHER. This is a NOT a brief, snappy post (it's almost 3k words). Maybe I could have tried a little harder to write a more concise summary but I really have a lot to say about Tomo. He's my favourite OC! (Also, I feel like there's a lot in this backstory that it felt wrong to just gloss over, if I want anyone to believe I'm trying to be at all sensitive.)

BASICS.

Tomo's full name is actually Tomoaki Katsumura (勝村智秋) but he prefers to go by Tomo Katsumura (勝村智). Pretty much the only person allowed to call him Tomoaki is his grandma. He also doesn't really take well to nicknames unless they're approved by him. He just really feel like Tomo is his name 100%.

Also, he's besties with Min! They originally met in London before both separately winding up in Anchorage (coincidences, eh??) and becoming very close. There's more detail about this in Min's intro!

He speaks both English and Japanese fluently, and doesn't really consider one to be his native tongue over the other. He's been entirely bilingual his whole life and spent large chunks of his childhood living in Osaka, Japan with his grandmother. He has been known to use Osaka-ben (dialect) when speaking Japanese. For a variety of reasons, Tomo also attended middle school/junior high in Osaka.

For the most part, Tomo’s a friendly and energetic guy! When he’s at his best, he’s great company. He likes to stand out in a crowd, has a winning smile and enjoys attention but also knows when to step back and look out for other people.

He’s kind of an emotional wreck. He does his best not to show it on the surface and the whole…being a good actor thing probably helps with that but, beneath the top layers of Sparkly Glam Tomo, shit’s all scrambled up. He doesn’t really know what to make of himself. Acting and having friends present are the only things, he believes, keeping him grounded and together.

Yet he’s pretty good at pretending shit’s fine, he’s still weirdly positive for a guy who feels all messed up — maybe he gets away with it because he’s a good actor. He’s the kind of guy who can have a full-on breakdown in his room by himself and then just reappear & ask you if you wanna go for ice cream because, hey, he’s bored. Basically, OKAY, that’s done with, that already happened. It’s OVER.

He doesn’t like crying in front of people which is rough bc he’s emotional ALL the time. He’s a total crybaby when he’s drunk. If you drink with him, there WILL be a point at which you have to scoop him up off the floor because he’s found something over which to start weeping. OR he’ll end up calling you to panic about how he can’t find his way home, only for him to realise like 5 minutes later he’s phoning you from the steps outside his apartment building.

He doesn’t like dating because…well, he likes the IDEA of it but he’s the type to really fall for someone and BASICALLY? He’s scared of being dumped! He’s a bright & appealing personality with just enough edge to balance it out but he’s a bit of an emotional screwball and he feels like getting people interested is easier than keeping them interested, leading to mixed experiences with dating so he’s…kinda…settled for sleeping around a little instead. Oh well, whatever works! (does it actually work? shhhh it’s a secret…)

Tomo is a competent singer. This is because, growing up, his mother made him take singing lessons in the hopes that he might follow in her idol footsteps. He was not in the least bit interested but it was fun enough for him not to complain about it (not that it would’ve helped).

He’s not very good at watching himself in films. It depends on the film and he can do it but uhhhh let’s just say he once watched the one horror film he was in at the cinema (and didn’t like most of it bc he’s a wuss about that sort of thing) but he laughed during his own death scene. There were tears in his eyes. Real tears.

He’s very much involved in the party scene, whatever country he’s in. it’s not something he talks about much (privately, i mean, bc DUH he doesn’t say it publicly) but he doesn’t exactly avoid drugs in anyway. It's all pretty casual and he only really does it at parties but he has been known to do coke and ecstasy and other stimulants. Will NOT touch weed. Don't ask. He does smoke cigarettes though and he’s a little dependent on that.

I guess he got involved in that kinda thing deliberately because he wants to distance himself from the clean-cut, shiny heartthrob pretty boy image as much as possible. Eventually, it just became a natural way of de-stressing and dealing with the constant frustration of his career. The unfortunate consequence of that is that he’s now got a bit of a Bad Boy/Wild Child image and he’s not entirely sure he likes that either. (The shift in image also means that some journalists will talk about him as though he’s ‘gone off the rails’ and, yeah, he hates that as well.)

BACKSTORY & EARLY CAREER

Tomo was the centre of scandals from Day One; born to a young American actor and a Japanese pop idol, he was the catalyst for his parents' shotgun marriage. Their marriage would only last about a decade with the pair divorcing when Tomo was around ten years old and his mother winning primary custody.

His mother, Mitsuko Furuya, was born in Japan and debuted as an idol in her teens. She was successful enough for her company to drag her abroad, just to test the waters. It was here that she fell for Ken Katsumura. Her pregnancy ended her career for several years and she would not return to the spotlight until Tomo was a teenager. Her relationship with Tomo is strained and they can't see eye to eye. She tried to push Tomo to follow her footsteps as a pop idol from a young age but he was only interested in acting.

His father, Ken Katsumura, was an actor-turned-director. He was a troubled person and an absent husband who put his work first, and this led to Mitsuko filing for divorce some years into their marriage. That, and the final admission that their early infatuation hadn't been love and their marriage had been for convenience all along. He poured himself further into his work while his mental health continued to deteriorate, falling into depression and alcoholism, and eventually killed himself at the age of 36. Tomo was thirteen years old at the time.

Tomo moved about a lot growing up, specifically back and forth between LA and Osaka (where his mother's family lived). He also lived in Japan and attended school there between the ages of 10 and 13. His mother had taken the divorce as an opportunity to return home and revive her career, focusing now on becoming a TV personality. During this time, he lived with his grandmother in Osaka while his mother was busy in Tokyo. They moved back to the States following his father's death.

He started acting professionally when he was sixteen, mostly with a few smaller TV roles but he had good connections and was able to get a small but still substantial role in the film directed by a friend of his dad. His big break, however, came at age 18 when he landed a leaded a role in the main cast of high school drama.

It was exciting at first, being on TV and being famous, but he soon found hated both the show and his character so the whole thing got tired fast. One of his biggest issues with the tv show was that he didn’t like being sold as a product / character that wasn’t anything like him, being shown off as this squeaky clean teen heartthrob type and not being allowed to have his own emotions & tastes.

His contract prevented him from quitting when he liked (and the writers were ‘stubbornly’ unwilling to kill his character off; he thought it’d be fun to act out) and he was signed on for a third season of the show. Tomo decided he might as well take things into his own hands went out of his way to get himself fired. It was his first act of public rebellion and, by design, his first criminal offence. He was twenty years old when he staged his own arrest for DUI. Being a minor, he didn’t need to drink much to get in trouble and he wasn’t drunk at the time. In order to ensure hje was noticed, Tomo drove his car into a tree, The crash awarded him with a broken arm and a suspended license but, more importantly, it got him fired.

However, the solution to one problem was the direct cause of countless others. He continued to take what roles he could, swearing off television entirely, but the opportunities were slim. His DUI stunt had scared off any producers that might have offered him clean, inoffensive work off the back of his breakout role and that very same role meant he was overlooked by more serious directors; he was simultaneously too dirty and too clean. The media had gotten hold of his story too, twisting it into the sort of drama that assured the public would see him as just another child actor gone wrong.

LATER CAREER

Tomo was twenty-two when he finally moved back to Japan, aiming to become an actor there instead. It was his way of leaving Hollywood behind and recreating himself anew, aided of course by his existing acting credits and (although he was not proud of it) a few connections provided by his mother. And it worked. In less than a year, they'd made a star of him. He'd even go on to win awards including Japan Academy’s Newcomer of the Year and Blue Ribbon’s Best Newcomer. He'd become a heartthrob again, and for real this time, but the work he was being offered was serious and compelling. Somehow, his risk-taking had paid off.

He would continue like this for the next few years. His relationship with his mother would continue to worsen as his career outshined hers to the point that people stopped asking him about her in interviews. He dove headfirst into Tokyo's clubbing culture, getting drunk and doing drugs and sleeping around behind close doors, away from the prying eyes of gossip rags. It was a careful balancing act; any hint at all of how he behaved was enough to destroy a career in Japan beyond all hope of repair. There was a clear divide between the Public and the Private and it was started to break cracks in Tomo's mind. Who was he really? Was the Public Tomo just another role but one he was forced to play as long as he lived?

Then, the stalker made themselves known. It was subtle at first, no different from other boundary breaking fans of that ilk; phone calls from strange numbers and doorbells rung at night. Tomo moved to a new apartment and the problems went away. At first. Then, the letters came. He stopped reading them early on. But then a package came and curiosity took over. Photographs. Photographs of Tomo. At first they were fairly ordinary pictures of Tomo in his private time. Unsettling, sure, but his team told him to ignore it. Then there were new photographs. Photographs that could ruin his career if they fell into the wrong hands. A letter that chastised him for ignoring the writer, threatened him if he continued to be so 'cold and distant'. The letters before had been just as overfamiliar, as though addressing a friend or some unreliable lover, and with the same level of accuracy and detail. Another letter came a few days later; they were just kidding, they just wanted to spook him. They liked sharing secrets with him. Sometimes they wouldn't send a letter at all, just an envelope containing a single photograph. Snorting coke. Kissing boys. The kinds of things a heartthrob shouldn't be doing.

This pushed an already on edge Tomo to his limits; if a total stranger could know all this about him, was he a real person at all? Or was he just some exciting character to be consumed by the public? Was the private life he'd thought so hard to keep hidden just a plot twist waiting to be revealed? He grew paranoid. Agitated. Couldn't sleep. Got a little too high every time. Every wrong move could be used against him. The stalker could be anywhere and they could be anyone. Those around him noticed the change in Tomo's behaviour but, because it was easier not to rock the boat, they left it alone. The only person willing to express concern was the stalker. You're not sleeping enough, their letters would say, you're not eating properly. Only one person cared about him and he was afraid of them.

It all came to a head a months later. Late 2021. A movie premiere. Tomo was the star, stood next to the director himself, and basking in the light of camera flashes. A sign in the audience caught his eye. It was handwritten; the words written there were benign enough but the handwriting was familiar. Tomo had seen it again and again and again. His head spun. The audience were gone to him, the cameras were non existent. All he could see was that bright red cardboard sign. Before it was even his turn to speak, he leaned into the microphone and said in a low, clear voice, 'Get away from me. Leave me the fuck alone." When they tried to take the microphone from him and his manager stepped in, it quickly escalated into yelling and snapping. He thrust a finger in the stalker's direction, his voice thick with agitation as he demanded his manager look at the sign. Look at the big red sign. But, when Tomo looked to see where he was pointing, there was no sign in sight. He didn't notice the tears streaming down his cheeks until they started dripping from his chin.

The rumours were quick to start swirling; had Tomo Katsumura lost his mind? Then came the rumours that he was doing drugs, that people had seen him around clubs and the like. There was no evidence, of course, and these were only the whisperings of ordinary people so there was no danger of people knowing whether or not that was true but his reputation had taken a hit. His agency's reputation was damaged too, as their ability to take care of their talent's mental health was thrown into question. Tomo's team advised him to lay low for a while until it all blew over and everyone forgot about his strange behaviour over the last little while. It came like a slap to the face. Acting was the only thing that kept Tomo grounded. He needed it. But they gave him a clear ultimatum; take the hiatus or else we'll drop you. It was his manger who suggested he go back to America and rest a while.

He returned to Los Angeles with his tail between his legs but still he managed to swallow his pride and go back to his mother's place. He didn't have his own place to stay anymore so, although he dreaded the lectures he'd get for making a mess of his career, he sucked it up and went home. There was no lecture; what ensued instead was the worst argument they'd ever had. He tries to stay with his manager, who'd gone back to LA with him, for a while but he feels no safer in Hollywood than he did in Tokyo. His fame still haunts him like a spectre, sucking him dry. On an impulse, he leaves. He runs off to Anchorage, figuring it's far away enough from everything else that he might finally find peace for a while. The only person he tells is his manager, who returns to Japan, and they both swear to keep his location strictly secret.

CURRENT LIFE

For the most part, Tomo is living off his existing earnings. Royalties from existing work, from modelling and brand deals he'd been allowed to maintain during his hiatus. It's a boring way to live, especially for someone with so much energy and such a consuming need to keep busy, but it's better than living each day just moments from falling apart. You'd think living in a place like Anchorage would ensure he still felt unsafe and, honestly, it does! But it's different. He's not being targeted. Nobody's putting the spotlight on him. If he were to die here, he'd just be the same kind of dead nobody as everybody else.

Recently, he's started helping out at the Single Carrot Theatre. He doesn't work there officially but he likes to volunteer to help with backstage stuff, just as an excuse to hang around. He's not sure it's a good idea for him to return to acting just yet, doubts it's a good idea to put him into some character's headspace when he's not even sure he's really in his own, and theatre isn't the same as film but he wants to stay as close to the thing he loves most as he can. It's not unusual to find him hanging around there, even if he's just wasting time.

Otherwise, he's still very involved in Anchorage's nightlife. Naturally dazzling, it's easy for him to be life of any party. All things considered, Tomo's still a bit of an attention seeker.

[digitaltrend85]

Simple steps to give your Living Room a cozy makeover

All of us are house proud because our homes are our most intimate imprints in the world. You want them to stand out because they are a reflection of your unique tastes. You want them to be cozy and comfortable for your loved ones. But when you have guests over you certainly want to wow them with your attention to detail. So naturally, the Living Room becomes the showcase of your individual style and sense of aesthetics.

This is the room where you spend time unwinding after a long day, alone or with your loved ones. You can lounge in front of the TV and watch your favorite shows or sporting events for that matter. In recent times where many of us are working from home on more occasions, the Living Room serves the dual purpose of being your home office. So it is important to cater the room to match your exact requirements while making it cozy and convenient for your regular use.

The makeover can begin with the choice of the entertainment center, TV console that will become the focal point of the Living Room instantly.

There are many contemporary styles and designs that are all the rage today. For example, a sofa console table with metal frames is functional and very stylish.

High gloss TV consoles or those with Led light strips are a popular choice. And what can be more fun than entertainment centers with fireplace for winters!

You can add to your security and privacy with window blinds that are easy to attach. Long thermal insulated blackout curtains have redefined cozy comfort for many.

It is possible to save space and yet add those slick finishing touches to the room with wall art that is incredibly popular.

If you are looking for the best Living Room décor items within your budgets then online stores are where you can find them.

[arvfurniture-blog-blog]

ARV Furniture offers a wide range of contemporary furniture that can elevate the style of your living spaces with unique and eye-catching designs. Here are a few key elements they feature:

1. Sleek and Minimalistic Designs Contemporary furniture from ARV often boasts clean lines, minimalist silhouettes, and geometric shapes. These elements create a visually striking aesthetic that aligns with modern interiors.

2. Innovative Materials They often incorporate a mix of materials such as glass, metal, leather, and glossy finishes to give their pieces a cutting-edge look. For example, items like high-gloss TV stands or glass coffee tables add a sleek and reflective touch to your room.

3. Statement Pieces ARV tends to offer statement furniture like unique LED-lit upholstered beds or recliner sofas with bold designs and smart features like adjustable headrests or built-in USB ports. These pieces become instant focal points.

4. Functional Aesthetics Many of ARV's contemporary pieces are designed to be both functional and visually appealing. Their click-clack sofas, for example, offer a stylish design while also serving as a bed for guests, embodying the modern desire for multifunctional furniture.

5. Bold Color Accents Although contemporary furniture often uses neutral tones, ARV sometimes plays with bold color accents, especially in chairs, cushions, or accent furniture, making certain items pop within a neutral setting.

This collection would be ideal for your contemporary living room vision, creating a blend of modern elegance and unique statement-making designs.

[shoppingplanet2024]

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