#i wanted to colour this but 10 seconds into colouring i hated it

[dailycupofcreativitea]

Gohan's getting lectured for being reckless 🫣

[pitchsidestories]

10 Things I Hate About You (1) II Alexia Putellas x Reader

part 2 I masterlist I word count: 1485

FC Barcelona was set to play against Atletico Madrid on this Sunday. As you were getting ready with your team mates in the changing room, you could hear the fans slowly fill the stadium. You were in the motion of tying your shoes when Mapi bumped you with her hip. You looked up to see her grinning at you; “Your sister is in the stands and will watch us.“ “Yes, but I know she’ll mostly watch you.“, you replied, rolling your eyes with fondness. You watched the defenders cheeks flush red; “Me?“

You were about to roll your eyes for a second time when Alexia chimed in; “How cute. You still blush when she’s mentioned, even after all those years.“ “Shut up, Ale.“, Mapi replied laughing. “Oh she never will. Trust me, I tried.“, you teased your girlfriend. Alexia made a gasping sound, about to reply to you but instead Mapi decided to end your bickering before it even started; “Can we focus on the game now please?“ The red of her cheeks had turned back into a slight pinkish hue. “Sure.“, you answered innocently. “Thanks. This is getting awkward.“

You finished tying your shoe laces and stood up to walk out on the pitch. Walking past Mapi, you gently patted her shoulder; “You’re welcome, Maps.“ You turned around to your girlfriend who was still fixing her pony tail in the mirror; “Ale, are you ready?“ “Ready.“, she nodded and followed you. “Great.“ You gave her an excited smile that she acknowledged with a determined nod; “Let’s win this.“

Both teams had a slow start into the game. Even though the statistics were in favour for Barcelona, your team just were not dangerous enough. Before the half time whistle, Atletico were given a corner kick. The ball landed somewhere behind you and as you turned around to orientate yourself you heard a clash, skulls smashing against each other. It was only then that you realized that Mapi was laying on the ground. With a few big steps, you were immediately by her side; “Mapi, are you alright?“ “I’m good.“, she replied confidently.

But as she turned towards you, you were shocked to discover that half of her face was covered in blood. You tried to keep your face as straight as possible, even though you might have paled a bit; “The doctor needs to check on you though, okay?“ Mapi nodded, moving her hand away from the cut on eyebrow and looking down on her blood-stained fingertips; “It’s just a bit of bleeding.“

Your heart felt a little lighter once the defender returned to the pitch wearing a head bandage but clearly able to continue to play in a tough game. “You never looked better, Mapi.”, Alexia teased her. But you could tell that your girlfriend was relived behind the joke. Meanwhile Mapi was almost back to normal as she scoffed smiling: “Shut up, Ale. Or you’ll get one too.” “Don’t you dare this haircut was expensive.”, the blonde replied. The younger woman could not stop teasing her:“I thought you always wanted to go red.” Loudly you cleared your throat to get their attention:” Girls, focus on the game, you can discuss your next hair colour after the game.” “Just finally score.”, Mapi answered promptly. Quickly you remarked :“And you make sure you don’t hurt yourself any further.”

In the second half your gut feeling was telling you that a goal for Barca was coming soon. Alexia and you did not need words to understand what you were doing next. Both of you just knew what the other one was about to do. Your girlfriend scored with the help of your assist, that goal making her the top female goal scorer for Barca of all time.

Sheepishly Alexia smiled, before whispering into your ear as she was pulling you into a hug:“Sorry for stealing your goal. But I needed to beat Jenni.” “I hate you for that though.”, you joked. Amused the midfielder shook her head:” You can’t hate me for that. We already went through that phase.” “Damn it, that’s what I hate the most about it not hating you, not even a little bit.”, you sighed. The blonde winked at you: “Let’s go. Maybe I’ll let you score a goal tonight.”

The promised goal did not happen this night, the game ended 1:0 for Barcelona, but you still felt in a celebratory mood as you hugged your teammates and some players of Madrid who you knew from your Spanish national team. After that Alexia found you again, holding your hand as you went into the direction to the changing room. “Sadly, we did not score another goal but wait until the next match for my redemption moment.”, you told her in good spirits.  An excited smile was lightening up the midfielder’s face:” Can’t wait.” “Go now, they want statements from the record goal scorer.”, you reminded your girlfriend cheerfully, pushing her slightly to the waiting press. Before going to them Alexia gave you a goodbye kiss and hoped you could feel her gratefulness for your assist: “On it.”

Mapi looked at you as you watched your girlfriend leave. “She couldn’t have achieved this record without you. You know that, right?“ “Oh, what?“, you asked, finally tearing your eyes away from Alexia. ���She wouldn’t be the football player she is now without you.“, the defender explained. At first you wanted to distract by making fun of Mapi for her bandaged head but deep inside you knew she had a point. You slowly nodded; “You’re right. And I wouldn’t be either.“ “Who knows.“, Mapi shrugged.

At the same time, your sister joined you two. “Mapi, it looked so bad from the stands. How are you?“, she asked, slightly out of breath. “I’m good. It’s just a cut on the eyebrow.“, the defender replied, extra casual. You could see the tension disappear out of your sister face as she sighed; “Oh, good.“ “Don’t worry. It only makes me look even tougher.“, Mapi grinned wryly.

Laughing, your sister softly hit her on her upper arm; “You’re such an idiot, Mapi!“ “I didn’t do that on purpose!“, she defended herself but your sister kept shaking her head in amused annoyance; “You’re terrible!“ “Since when?“ “Oh shut up!“ Mapi blinked at your sister with innocent eyes; “Excuse me? I just had a bad head injury.“ “Okay, sorry. Come here, love.“, your sister answered, putting her arms around Mapis waist and pulled her into a hug.

You only realized that you were watching their teasing with a smile on your face when Alexia stepped behind you. “Ale, are you done with your meda duties for today?“, you asked. The blonde player nodded curtly; “I am.“ She looked exhausted so you suggested; “Hotelroom?“ Your girlfriend nodded once again; “Yes.“ “Okay, let’s go then.“

The hotel wasn’t far away from Atleticos home stadium. Slowly you opened the door to your shared room; “We’re here.“ “Finally.“, Alexia sighed and let herself fall on your bed. “Tired?“ “A bit. What about you?“, she asked, looking up at you. You took of your shoes and sat next to her on the mattress; „Me too.“ “It was a tough game.“ “Yes, but we won, so it was worth it.“, you replied. A tired smile appeared on Alexias lips; “With a pretty nice assist.“ “Thanks. Your goal was alright too.“, you laughed, to which you girlfriend gasped and hit you with a pillow; “Alright?!“ “Decent?“, you tried again but she just rolled her eyes; “It was great.“

“You know what else is great?”, you asked her. Curiously Alexia glanced at you:” What?” “This bed.”, you replied with a quiet giggle, while making yourself comfortable on the mentioned piece. Amused your girlfriend nodded:” I agree.” “Do you think you can sleep now?”, you questioned her, because you could not unsee how much energy this match had cost her. Truthfully the blonde confessed:” I could immediately fall asleep. I’m so tired.” Carefully you replied:” Why don’t you do that?”

Her facial expression turned serious:” I’ll.” “But? What’s going on in your mind?”, you tried to keep her talking so her furrowed brow could relax. Softly Alexia put her arms around you, resting her head on your shoulders: “Don’t worry about it love.” “Ale.”, you started again. “Yes?” “Tell me.”, you demanded in a whisper.

The midfielder sighed loudly behind you: “I was just thinking about how we met.” “You mean when I first joined the Barcelona team back in the season 2017/18 and I thought you were the most annoying person?” “You thought that while you were the most annoying person.”, the blonde corrected you smiling as she thought about that memory fondly.

Playfully shocked you turned around so you could see into her green eyes:” Excuse me?!” “You were pretty horrible.”, Alexia laughed.  Curiously you wanted to know from her:“Well, what made you change your mind about me?”

To be continued...

[rosquinn]

One of my Dorian Gray hot takes is that there was absolutely nothing in Dorian and Basil's relationship that was healthy. I keep seeing posts like "Basil's love for Dorian was so pure, that's why the portrait was so pretty and the real villain of the story is Wotton because he corrupted it"

As I see it, yes, Wotton did corrupt him, but saying Basil's feelings for Dorian were pure is simply inaccurate to the story. Basil says himself he merely sees Dorian as an artistic ideal [Dorian Gray is to me simply a motive in art. I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours. That is all; ch1] and admitted he (a 10 year older man, who had power over him) tried to isolate him from other people and "keep him to himself". Furthermore, Basil also plays a big role in the way Dorian sees himself and his beauty, by painting him everyday and not maintaining any conversation with him, he's indirectly reaffirming what Wotton tells him: people only care about you because you're pretty and young. There is also this scene from the second chapter:

Dorian Gray turned and looked at him. "I believe you would, Basil. You like your art better than your friends. I am no more to you than a green bronze figure. Hardly as much, I dare say.

The painter stared in amazement. It was so unlike Dorian to speak like that. What had happened? He seemed quite angry. His face was flushed and his cheeksburning.

"Yes," he continued, "I am less to you than your ivory Hermes or your silver Faun. You will like them always. How long will you like me? Till I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. I know, now, that when one loses one's good looks, whatever they may be, one loses everything. Your picture has taught me that. Lord Henry Wotton is perfectly right. Youth is the only thing worth having. When I find that I am growing old, I shall kill myself."

Hallward turned pale and caught his hand. "Dorian! Dorian!" he cried, "don't talk like that. I have never had such a friend as you, and I shall never have suchanother. You are not jealous of material things, are you?-you who are finer than any of them!"

Dorian is even dealing with a suicidal ideation over what Wotton has told him and the way Basil sees him, he needs emotional validation, he's asking to be told there's more than him than that, and Basil's reaction is just─ no. You're prettier than any other object (indirectly comparing him to one, too).

Basil's view of Dorian influences how he sees people as much as Wotton's. For example, to Dorian Sybil was only what she pretended to be, he loved her performance, her acting, how she did exactly what the public wanted (which can apply to Dorian himself), not the real her. She was only an artistic ideal to him, she meant to him exactly what Dorian meant to Basil. He ignored her desires, pain and everything not related to what he wanted to see, since that's what he's been taught he must appreciate.

I also disagree with the interpretation of the portrait as a "pure" reflection of Basil's love (I would personally rather describe it as an obsession, though) and Dorians soul because it's not. At least not entirely. Part of the point of the book is that everyone only saw the part of Dorian they wanted: the portrait represents Basil's idolized version of him, what he wanted to see and how he refused to see Dorian as a person instead of an artistic ideal. That's why he tried to make him redeem himself, because he hated seeing his version of Dorian shatter into pieces. It was never Dorian entirely, not even after aging terribly because that's the result of Basil and Wotton's influence. The portrait was not his real soul, it was a modified version of it other people played with because nobody cared about the whole thing, and the influence was so big those parts became his whole being. It was just an idolized, molded version at first but turned into his real self with the time and the sins. Dorian's soul (the portrait) was constructed upon what others appreciated about him, so when Wotton motivated him to sin, because Dorian's potential to be terrible was what mattered to him, it became ugly and terrible. There was absolutely nothing pure about that portrait since day 1.

[dirtyslag96]

Idiots in love-James Maguire

Pairing: James Maguire/fem!reader

Rating: PG-16

Words: 1,331 words

Warnings: Fluff, Lying, Curse words, use of Y/N, love interests being idiots in love and oblivious to eachothers love for the other, not proof read

Synopsis: You notice James subtly trying to get your attention and you're not sure why, so you try to find out as you perhaps started developing feelings for the Brit. you're sure of one thing, and that no matter how hard you had tried to lie, he will find out.

a/n: based on prompt #1018 from this list (“Shut up, I’m trying to confess my love to you.”) ". requested by @themallonbisexualmess , also I would appreciate some tips since I'm still new to writing fics, also dialogue between the five will be characterised by the colour, Y/N, Orla, Erin, James, Michelle, Clare

The first day you met James you considered him quite odd, not only because he was English but also he was attending an all girls school and was somehow Michelle Mallon's cousin.

All six of you were sat at Erin and Orla's house after school playing board games when suddenly the home telephone rings.

"would someone go get that its making me deaf for Christ's sake", said Erin.

"Gerry make yourself useful would ya", announced Joe, clearly annoyed by Erin's father.

Gerry looked confused but nevertheless walked over to answer, "Hello?, Yeah she's right here", a couple of seconds later, "I'll let her know"

"Y/N, your parents want you back home in 10 minutes"

"Oh, isn't it a bit early? did they tell you why?", you were confused since it was still 9 o'clock and your parents usually have you curfew by 12.

"No, would you like a ride home?", you never understood why Joe hated Erin's dad so much considering he was the most thoughtful and caring one of all your parents.

"For fuck's sake Y/N did you do something?", Michelle alway commented on everything happening.

"Yeah its a bit weird"

"James, how many times have I told you we do not care"

Seeing James' dissapointed face made you even sadder you were leaving early, though you never understood why your mood also often depended on his. Perhaps you had feelings for him? no, you wouldn't believe it even if you did.

"I'll be on my way then, see you tomorrow", involuntarily you felt yourself looking at James. "Thank you Gerry I would appreciate it if you got me a ride home"

"Bye Y/N!", all of them shouted.

"Finally being useful for once", you heard Joe snicker as you left out the door.

The next day, you had told Clare about it, she said that you definitely have some feelings for him, since you trusted Clare's judgement you've started noticing that James mostly starts conversations directly to you. Clare also had pointed out that when the Ukrainian girl showed up hitting on James, that you had been more closed off and easily exasperated than usual.

The six of you were suspended since Michelle and James had broken the statue "The Child of Prague", while arguing so you all had agreed to meet up at Erin's place for the week. Your mix of emotions towards James had led you to unintentionally start avoiding him, surprisingly Michelle and Clare had been subtly trying push you two together. You speculated that Clare must've told Michelle or that they had also felt a drift between you and James.

Orla pulled out a board game that had the six of you pair up into three teams of two, to decide who would be paired together you all wrote your names at placed it in a random jar that Erin found in the kitchen.

"Orla and...", Clare!", Erin said as she was the one who pulled out the names.

"Interesting..", muttered Orla as Clare took in a loud sigh.

"Y/N and..", "James!", was the universe really fucking with you? you look at him, seeing his happy face made you feel things you never expected to feel for James, then you attempted to avert his gaze but soon enough you looked up to his disappointed and baffled face to why you were trying to avoid him.

Michelle noticed the tension between you two so she broke the deafening silence, "So that leaves me n' you Erin, this is rank".

"Start without me I don't feel well I feel like throwing up, I'll be up in the bathroom", in truth you wanted to be as far away from James as you can so you practically dash upstairs to Erin's toilet. The rest of the five looked quite baffled since nothing seemed wrong with you but you have been acting rather weird these past few days.

You heard a pair of footsteps coming up the stairs and you assumed someone had come up looking for you, you heard a knock on the door, you were praying it wasn't him. But then again you heard knocking again and a voice, James' voice "Y/N are you okay in there?".

You had two options either lie and say you were sick or...

"Y/N!", his voice yet again heard, interrupts your train of thoughts, so you slowly walk over to the bathroom door and open it.

"oh.. hey you said you weren't feeling well so I came up here to check on you but you seem fine right now", right now you couldn't have felt any better since he came up here concerned, the way his hair was ruffled yet tidy, the way his accent affected his words, and his voice.

You remained quiet for a long time, "uh-i guess I didnt need to throw up after all", you said as you tried to push past him to get out of the small bathroom that could have suffocated both of you with the amount of tension in the air.

To your surprise he shifted quickly, blocking you and closing the door acting like a shield. "what-"

"no, I don't get it you've been avoiding me! why? did I do something wrong for fuck's sake Michelle even noticed! she asked if I annoyed you but I would never do it on purpose just please tell what is going on!", his outburst surprised since usually he was quiet and self preserved.

"there's nothing wrong James I don't know where you're getting that idea from"

slowly he stepped forward before he spoke, "you are lying, I can tell-"

"I-, what? this is ridiculous James let me out of here!"

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the rest of the group followed James upstairs and are now listening to your conversation through the door.

"No! not until you tell me what's wrong, have I upset you, , I notice everything about you don't you get it Y/N- ?", his face nearly made you crumble, you felt bad for irritating him as much as you are right know but you are not confessing why you have been avoiding him.

"for crying out loud, no James you haven't upset me in any way shape or form, this is stupid-", you were both cutting each other off, he was not letting you lie, while you were trying not to let him catch on to your feelings.

"Would you shut up, I have been trying to confess my emotions of love to you all week, and you have been simply ignoring that do you know how hurt I felt thinking I had upset you or something!”

You were in genuine shock and you were sure you heard a few gasps from outside the door.

"Do you actually feel that way James? because if so then so do I.."

Like magnets, you both came forward pressing your lips together, you felt him smile. Next thing you know the rest of the girls opened the door and saw both of you, they yelled and talked over eachother at the same time

"OH FINALLY!", exclaimed Clare,

"The form of human art always so interesting", Orla muttered as always,

"Congrats?!", Erin was quite unsure of what to say since she found two of her best friends kissing in her bathroom.

"FINALLY! you two took a long time figuring each other's feelings I was tortured by James talking about you all the time, and Clare the poor girl had to endure you talking about James!", you assumed Michelle would hate the idea of one other bestfriends and her cousin being together.

"What the fuck!", you both yelled while slamming the bathroom door closed and hearing giggles not the other end, you and James looked at each other and started laughing.

"You two get back out here I'm still not a hundred percent on the pair of you, but just because I approve doesn't mean you can start fucking"

"Yeah please not inside of my bathroom either!"

fin.

[buckys-little-belle]

Henlo! If it's okay, could you make write a fic about Bucky comforting his little during a thunderstorm? A storm was near my house a few days ago and the thunder scared me so bad-- The power didn't go out, but storms usually happen a lot where I live-- thanks <3

Rainy Days

Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns used/No Pronouns used)

Warnings - Reader is scared of storms, reader eats snacks, talks of loud noises, talks of lightning/flashing lights, descriptions of a thunderstorm, ready is sad and scared, Bucky is sweet and thoughtful!

Notes - I made this headcannons, I hope that's okay! Honestly I've been going through my inbox and drafts and trying to clear them out, but writing full fics is something I have to be in the right mood for. But headcannons? I've been feeling headcannons lately, so do send some headcannon requests in if anyone has some! And please expect very old asks to suddenly resurface in the shape of fics/headcannons written literally years later <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

You've always been scared of thunderstorms. Rain is nice from time to time, but when the loud booms of thunder begin and lightning strikes, you suddenly begin to feel scared.

It's not rational, you know the thunder can't get you and that if you're inside you're safe from lightning. Yet when the storm begins to get louder and the rain begins to pelt harder, you find yourself curled up wherever you are, stuffie held safely to your chest.

Bucky could tell you'd get antsy whenever rain drops would begin racing on the windows, you'd stare outside seemingly waiting for something to happen.

After the first thunderstorm you two witnessed together Bucky knew he needed to be prepared for the next one. He hated seeing you cry, and how scared you got. He felt helpless and vowed to make sure that didn't happen again.

So now he has a small bin in his closet labeled "Rainy days". Inside are a pair of headphones he bought that block out any noises. It's made chatting between the two of you hard on those rainy days, you yelling because you can't tell just how loud you are, and him doing his best to charades his words. But because it rains so often, you two have had time to practice, and communication comes much easier.

He bought you little stickers to put on the headphones, so that instead of just plain boring black headphones, you have ones decorated by your favourite cartoon characters and fun little stickers of plants and dinosaurs.

He also has special activities for the two of you to do on those days. He wanted something different than the toys you have all the other days. This way you stop feeling dread thinking about thunderstorms, now that feeling is over taken with a subtle excitement for the special glitter crayons in the box, and the really cute stuffed animal named "Rainy" that you get to snuggle with.

Bucky always buys those PDF files on etsy that are colouring pages. For $2 he gets 6-10 fun pages, and he'll print them out for you on his fancy work printer. He finds it easier than buying colouring books because there's no risk of ripping your colouring when you evidently want to rip the page out and put it on the fridge. Plus he finds it over all cheaper, and there are no more tears when you don't like the way you coloured something, sad that you can't do that pretty picture anymore, he just prints out a second one.

Bucky is also a fan of physical media. He has both a DVD and a VCR player. So he has two movies stashed in the box that you really like for those rainy days, and those rainy days only. He doesn't know how, but you've been able to connect your headphones to the Tv, so you can't hear the thunder when you're watching them.

Also snuggles, rainy days mean as many snuggles as you want. Doesn't matter if he's on a work call, doing the laundry, or in the middle of making dinner. If you come up and ask for a hug you end up getting 20 minutes of snuggles and soothing back rubs.

You don't venture outside when it's a thunderstorm, but Bucky has been warming you up to "liking" rainy days by showing you how fun puddles can be.

He buys you a cute raincoat and matching boots, and as long as there's no thunder or lightning, he'll take you outside and splash in the puddles for an hour.

Instead of being terrified of thunderstorms, and hating the days they happen, you've slowly been able to accept that they'll happen sometimes, and you've grown to know your safe, very safe because Bucky is always at your side on those days. Ready to comfort you, ready to play whatever game you want, and ready to jump in puddles when possible.

[underoossss]

Be Mine — S.H

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

warnings: suggestive make out towards the end. language.

an: a Valentine’s Day gift from me to you! sorry if there are any typos.

———

You should have seen it coming, you suppose. Everything felt a bit… off right from the start.

Valentine’s day had arrived in an avalanche of pink and red decorations everywhere. A painful reminder that your valentine, the one you wanted to celebrate with, wasn’t yours at all. Steve Harrington was your friend, best friend in fact, and for years now the sole subject of your affections. He was everything, everything to you, which was why you had to ignore your feelings in the first place lest you lose him if he found out. Which is why, you suppose, on February 13th when one of your coworkers, Derek, had asked you out on a date for Valentine’s day you had said yes.

He had never showed any interest in you that you noticed, and to be honest you had no real interest in him. But a random date on valentine’s day was better than sitting alone in your room wondering what pretty girl had been lucky enough to be Steve’s date. He hadn’t told you anything, but if anyone could find a last-minute date it was Steve –if he had asked you, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. Steve hadn’t said much when you told him Derek asked you out, choosing instead to change the subject, which you didn’t mind either. It was better than having to ask him who he would be taking out.

Now, on the 14th, you pace your living room waiting for Derek to pick you up. You’d styled your hair, happy for a chance to get all dressed up in a pretty floral dress and a cream-coloured cardigan. With a look at the clock on the kitchen’s wall you see that Derek is running 10 minutes late, but you figure he will be ringing your doorbell anytime now. A moment later, he arrives, but the doorbell doesn’t ring. Instead, you hear the honking of a car outside, and after a glance out the window you see that Derek has no plan of getting out of his car. He is waiting for you to go to him.

Steve is always on time, you think to yourself as you lock the door behind you, Steve always rings your doorbell and opens the passenger’s door. But you guess not everyone can be Steve, there’s only one and he’s not for you.

Swallowing hard to push back the tears that want to gather in your eyes, you open the door to Derek’s car and give him a fake smile. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He smiles and it’s not very sweet –there’s something else behind his eyes, but he doesn’t look at you long enough for you to figure it out. “Sorry I’m late, I lost track of time.”

“That’s… Um, that’s okay.” You shrug, looking out the dashboard to the road ahead and feeling anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “Where are we going?”

“Enzo’s.” Derek tells you, turning up the volume of the radio and flooding the car with music.

No more conversation then.

Your second sign that everything isn’t right comes when Derek parks on the other side of Main Street and the two of you have to cross the street to get to Enzo’s. Derek looks eager to get to the restaurant as soon as possible, while simultaneously not looking at all interested in staying by your side. He doesn’t open the passenger’s door for you, and barely waits for you to get out of the car to cross the street. Something Steve never would have done. Steve always opens the door for me, you think again, hating yourself for your feelings, Steve always holds my hand when we cross the street.

Stevie, I’m not a child. You’d complain when he grabs your hand as you cross.

I know you’re not, babe, I’m just looking out for you. He’d chuckle and hold your hand tighter.

Derek has the audacity to look exasperated when you finally reach him on the other side of the street, as if he didn’t leave you behind. You’re about to open your mouth and tell him so when the hostess approaches you with a smile.

“Good evening.” She says full of joy. “You two have a reservation?”

Derek nods and gives his last name to the hostess, who finds it after a short moment looking through a list and leads you to a table. It’s a small table by one of the windows and it’s decorated with a single red rose and a small candelabra. At least you’ll have a nice dinner, you suppose as you take a seat.

Derek lets out a deep breath and looks around the restaurant as a server fills your glasses with water. You thank him softly before turning to look at your date.

What you wouldn’t give for it to be Steve in front of you instead of Derek…

“Is something wrong?” You ask Derek when he doesn’t stop looking around the restaurant. “You keep looking around.”

Derek opens his mouth to say something when suddenly four people approach your table –two of them your coworkers and the other two are Derek’s friends. What are they doing here?

“Good. You’re here, now pay up.” Derek says, turning your night from a bad one to the worst one of all.

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask confused, anger and shame bubbling under your skin.

“We made a bet that Derek couldn’t get a date for Valentine’s day.” One of Derek’s friends explains nonchalantly. “Guess we were wrong.”

Your coworkers laugh and hand Derek some cash, which he accepts in triumph. In that moment, you wish the ground would swallow you whole so you never have to face these people again. A bet? Who in the world is cruel enough to do such a thing. Sure, you don’t have feelings for Derek, but no one deserves to be played the way you did.

Without another word, you stand up and walk to the front door where you see the hostess again. “Excuse me.” You tell her. “I have to leave, it’s an emergency. The boy I was with told me he would pay for the expensive champagne in the drink menu and to let you know. He just ordered it.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure they bring it to him right away.” She nods, oblivious to your lie.

“Yeah, I think he’s going to bring it home.”

You thank her and leave, stalking to the nearest payphone with a deep frown on your face. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And you have to find a new job on top of that. All to forget about Steve, what a fucking stupid idea. The only way you could ever forget him or your feelings for him is if you somehow got your memory wiped. A few stray tears fall down your cheeks and you wipe them away as you dial a phone number.

“Eddie, I need your help.” You mumble when your friend picks up. “Can you pick me up please?”

----

Fifteen minutes later you spot Eddie’s van approaching and you hop in as soon as he stops in front of you.

“Hi, Eddie.” You mumble, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Sorry you had to drive all the way here.”

“Buttercup, it’s no problem.” He tells you seriously, then hesitates to say his next words. “Did something happen?”

“My date,” You say the words with disgust. “Was actually a bet Derek made with his moronic friends, they showed up and paid him in front of me.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie shuts off the engine and turns to you, eyes wide and worried. When you shrug, looking out the window and feeling more than a little bit embarrassed, Eddie lets out a deep breath. “Okay, now I see why you didn’t call Harrington to pick you up.”

“Steve would have barged in there and…” You chuckle, no joy behind it. You’re still thinking about him. “But he’s most likely out on a date, that’s also why I didn’t call him. He wouldn’t have picked up.”

“Buttercup you’re not serious.” Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, starting the engine again and driving away from the curb. “You honestly think he went on a date?”

“Yeah.” You say, frowning. “That’s why I went out with Derek tonight in the first place. So I wouldn’t…”

“So you wouldn’t think about him having dinner with someone else?” Eddie asks, tone curious.

“Exactly.”

“Well, he’s been thinking about you being out on a date all night.” Your friend informs you with a quick look before his eyes turn back to the road.

“What?” You turn where you sit, eyes wide. That’s the last thing you would expect Steve to do. “You’re lying, Munson.”

Eddie shakes his head, “I’m not. Robin and I had to talk some sense into him, he wanted us to go to find you so we could keep an eye on you buttercup.”

You shake your head, trying to catch up with his words. “Steve barely cared about my date when I told him, Eddie.”

“He’s been tearing his hair out all night, waiting for you to call him once you got back.” Eddie shrugs, as if saying you figure out the rest.

“But why?” You ask him, mind reeling at the fact that no pretty girl had dinner or did anything else with him tonight.

Eddie smiles, brightly and mischievously as he gestures ahead. “How about you ask him yourself? It’s about time the two of you face the music.”

You glance to your right and find that Eddie’s making a turn towards Steve’s street. You want to tell Eddie to turn back, but find yourself unable to, you want to see him. There’s no one in the world that can give you as much comfort as Steve. The living room’s lights are on when Eddie parks in the driveway, and you can see a figure pacing back and forth. Steve.

“Go.” Eddie says gently with a nudge at your shoulder. “Go tell him the truth, buttercup.”

Your next breath gets stuck on your chest for a moment, and your hands turn ice cold. Tell him the truth? That you’re in love with him? That even without the best tonight would have been a disaster because he wasn’t there? Fear and nerves try to take a hold of you, you feel their hands grabbing at your shoulders, but you shrug them off. If what Eddie said is true…

“Okay.” You whisper, looking at Eddie and finding encouragement shining in his features. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Your friend squeezes your hand and nods. “Anytime, now go get him.”

With a nod of your own you get out of the van, shut the door, and walk towards Steve’s front door. Your hand trembles slightly when you ring the doorbell, and you’re quick to bring it back to your side and hide it under your cardigan’s sleeve. Footsteps follow the doorbell’s ring and a moment later Steve opens the door, surprised to see you. He’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and socks. His hair is as messy as you imagined, but still perfect. The perfect boy for you; the only one.

“Hey Stevie.” You whisper, shoulders sagging in relief just from being near him. “You won’t guess what happened.”

“Babe.” Steve shakes his head, taking your hand and pulling into the house and away from the cold. He closes the door. “How’d you get here, I thought you went out tonight.”

“Eddie, drove me.” Your voice is quiet as you look into his worried brown eyes. A frown pulls his lips downwards, and you want nothing more than wipe it away with you thumb.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Steve asks, sounding hurt, but you shake your head and step towards him.

Your arms go around his waist and your face settles on his collarbone, a second later, Steve’s arms envelop you in a hug. You feel both your shoulders and Steve’s immediately lose tension; your body melts against his and a shuddering breath leaves your lips. Steve’s hands drift from your waist up your back until one of them settles in your hair, holding you close to him. “I knew that once you found out what happened, you’d want to break Derek’s nose.”

Steve tightens his hold on you, his face turning until you feel his breath on your neck. You’re sure that if his arms weren’t around you, your knees would have buckled for sure. “What did he do?”

“The date was a ruse.” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut when your eyes begin to sting. “His friends bet that he couldn’t find a date for valentines day. They umm, they paid him in front of me.”

“What?” Steve’s hands move to your shoulders, and he takes a step back to look at you. His brown eyes are a mix of outrage and pain when he notices your unshed tears. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“And everything leading up to it was bad on its own too, you know?” You shake your head and blink your tears away. With a deep breath you step away from Steve and lean against the back of the sofa instead. “Because all I kept thinking about was you, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. “You thought about me?”

“Of course I did.” You whisper, pressing your lips together before continuing. “It was impossible not to, Steve. I wanted my date to be you, instead of him. I’ve always wanted it to be you.”

Steve shakes his head in disbelief, and you think you messed everything up only for a moment because he’s standing right in front of you the next. He opens his mouth to say something, but you press a finger to his lips, silencing him before you lose your nerve.

“I only said yes to go out with him because I thought you would have a date tonight.” You confess to him, looking into his eyes. “I didn’t want to stay at home and let the idea of you out with someone else break my heart. I wanted to forget about it but I’m too in love with you to stop thinking about you for a second.”

“I didn’t have a date tonight.” Steve says, his voice hushed between you.

“Oh…” Is all you can say, and it makes Steve smile softly.

“Some asshole asked the girl I wanted to be my Valentine before I could.” He takes a gentle hold of your face, pining you down with a lovestruck gaze that takes all the air from your lungs. You’re hypnotized by them, by the striking similarity to how you think your own look when you gaze at him. “So I stayed at home, thinking about her and wishing it was me that took her out to dinner.”

“Stevie.” You whisper, breathless at his confession and the way his hands settle on the couch, on either side of your hips. You’re looking up while he’s looking down, hearts hammering in your chests at the realization dawning between the two of you.

“All I could think about,” Steve starts, “was you. How I wanted to be the one you did all the cheesy valentine’s day things with. Every year is the same, but I could never tell you how I felt.”

You shake your head, “Neither could I… I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

“I do. I’m so in love with you I thought I was going to die of jealousy tonight.” Steve leans closer to you, his breath mingling with yours when he brushes his nose against your own. “You look so beautiful, by the way, give me a warning next time.”

His eyes are adoring as they roam your face, and one of his hands settles on your hips, his thumb drawing circles over the floral fabric. Your surprised face shifts to one full of love, every repressed feeling rushing to the surface, unconcealed for Steve to see. The growing smile on his face is confirmation enough that he does.

“Be mine.” Steve whispers, eyes shining with hope and longing as they gaze into yours. One of your hands moves up his chest until it settles on his jaw, you can feel his heart skipping the same beats as yours as all your unnecessary pining comes to an end. The two of you are on the same page now, and Steve though knows your answer he still yearns to hear it. His eyes close, and he leans closer, lips ghosting on your right cheek. “Be my valentine, be my girl.”

“Only if it’s forever, Harrington.” You whisper back, your eyes tearing up even as you smile.

Steve chuckles and leans back just enough to meet your gaze again. “Anything less than that wouldn’t be enough.”

You smile widely and the tears in your eyes break free, running down your cheeks as pure happiness floods your body. Steve smiles back and when you nod, he leans in to kiss you.

The first kiss is only a soft brush of lips, tentative and sweet with shuddering breath interchanged between you. When your eyes meet, the same thought is clear in them: I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, and it’s immediately followed by another kiss.

Steve kisses you like you’ve always wanted him to kiss you. As if reading your mind, as if knowing exactly what you want. One of his hands cradles your face and tilts your face slightly to find the perfect angle. His lips leave you for a moment and he runs the tip of his nose up the side of yours and down until he captures your lips again. They’re firm but gentle brushes, taking your top lip between his and letting go before his bottom lip brushes both of yours and he dives in to kiss you again. It’s like a tide, pushing and pulling, a playful thing that has you smiling while gripping his shirt, trying to find purchase on something as your heartbeat races. Steve’s teeth catch on your bottom lip every now and then, his tongue brushing the sting away; he does it again and again until a groan escapes him and he pulls away.

You don’t feel embarrassed when your lips chase his and he places a soft peck on them. Steve’s pupils are dark and his lips are a beautiful pink; swollen from all your kissing.

“As much as I want to continue this, and we can later,” Steve starts, getting lost in thought when his lips drift down to your mouth again. “I also know you wanted to do all the corny Valentine’s Day stuff today.”

“Hmmm yes I did.” You smile at him, disastrous date already forgotten.

“As your boyfriend, and valentine.” Steve says proudly, his smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “I think a date is in order.”

You feel yourself glow from within, heart happier than it’s ever been. “What do you have in mind?”

“I have snacks and ice cream.” Steve says, his fingers ghosting against the skin of your cheek before he reaches for you hand. He keeps talking as he pulls you towards the kitchen. “And there’s a couple of those cheesy romantic movies you like to watch.”

“That we like to watch.” You giggle at the eye roll he gives you, full of fondness.

“I figure that’d be a nice date, don’t you?” He asks, voice hopeful, as if you would ever say no to him.

“It sounds perfect.” You agree with a nod, and a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go find the VHS’s and you get the snacks. I’m starving I didn’t eat anything at Enzo’s.”

“Oh, remind me where this Derek guy lives again. Just to know...”

[rumade]

A post about birth

I had a baby on Wednesday early in the morning (it's Sunday evening right now), and a couple of people have asked what labour and delivery was like for me, if I have any tips etc, so I thought I'd make a post about it. TW for all the things you might think of with regards to birth: medical stuff, vomit, diarrhoea, blood etc.

The raw facts: I delivered vaginally, in the bath in hospital, with pain relief in the form of Pethidine, Codeine, gas & air (Entonox), and a TENs machine. No true induction, but two membrane sweeps with prostaglandin gel. From onset of true labour (regular contractions), to delivery, was about 9 hours, which is pretty fast for a first timer.

Membrane sweep: This is when a midwife assesses your cervix, and if possible, inserts a finger with prostaglandin hormone gel and moves things around. My first one was when I was 2cm dilated at 39 weeks, and it was UNCOMFORTABLE. I would say a similar cramp feeling to having an IUD inserted, with less of a pinching feeling. Unlike IUD pain, this ends when they take their finger away. Afterwards I had blood and mucus for about 36 hours. I had a second sweep at 40 weeks at 10:30, just under 12 hours before I went into labour.

Early labour: I HATED EARLY LABOUR. I'd been working on this quilt and said that I would have the baby as soon as I finished it, and in some act of dark magic, pretty much as soon as I finished sewing on the label, I went into labour. Rough time 9:30pm Tuesday night. Early labour for me started with lower back pain, similar to the kind I get on my period. I then had diarrhoea and vomiting in tandem, so was sat on the toilet holding a bucket and puking into it. I'd just had some fancy rhubarb and raspberry leaf tea, so it came out a pretty pink colour!

When I could, I did hip circles and other moves sat on my yoga ball, which I think helped a lot. Eventually, we cracked out the TENs machine, and my husband stuck it to my back. When a contraction came on, I'd press the boost button, while also trying to press the timer button on my phone to time contractions. I phoned the hospital a few times, got told to take paracetamol, puked up the paracetamol, got the shakes from puking. My contractions at this time were ranging from 30 seconds to 1 minute, and apart from the period following puking, when I would shake and they'd go haywire, they were pretty consistent. Every 7 minutes apart, then 6 minutes, down to 4 minutes, and getting painful enough that I couldn't handle the twin tasks of activating TENs boost and tapping the contraction timer app (2 buttons were beyond me).

I phoned the hospital and they said it sounded like I was in established labour. We grabbed my hospital suitcase, my backpack with skincare, laptop, and a few other bits in, secured a taxi through an app. I was contracting strongly and couldn't walk when they happened, so was holding onto our fence in the light rain, waiting for the taxi. When it came, it was about 2:30am. The streets were clear but the ride felt like it took forever and the taxi driver looked very tense. We arrived at 2:49am. I got out, immediately had a contraction and held on tight to a plant pot outside the hospital. The porters held the lift for me and we got up to the 7th floor, where I had another contraction right outside the door of my room. These ones felt PAINFUL. Very much in my back.

We got in the room and I stayed in my nightdress (didn't want to change into a hospital gown). Cervical assessment was 5cm at 3:15am. I asked for Pethidine. This is an opiate that they inject into you. Firstly, they wanted to get a cannula into my hand- I had an infection called Group B Strep and they wanted to make sure they could get antibiotics into me. Until the painkiller took effect, I tried to manage pain with a spikey massage ball, alternately digging it into my thigh and smashing myself on the side of the head with it. It helped. The team offered me gas and air, which I declared to be "shit". I think I was expecting to get high and have fun with it, but it barely felt like it did anything.

The Pethidine took the edge off, but made me drowsy. It allowed me to handle the feeling in my lower back, and the team gave me some oral codeine alongside it. It's worth knowing that they won't give you these close to the end of labour because it can make baby drowsy and hard to assess. At this point I could kinda talk in a drowsy way and I managed to put on music, including a Nujabes playlist. I then said "I'm not cool enough to give birth to hip hop" and swapped it out for some other lofi and a study strings playlist. The lower back pain was still intense and I was stick of being vibrated by the TENs machine, so I asked them to run a bath.

2nd stage labour: This other sensation had started, and I didn't know it at the time, but this was the start of the actual delivery. It didn't actually hurt, but instead felt like I was being squeezed by a huge snake. When these surges happened, they took my breath away, and I struggled to follow the "down breathing" pattern that I'd learnt. I think at this point I asked for an epidural. The midwife, somewhat sternly, said "you need to tell us what you're feeling. Does it feel like you need a big poo?" which really annoyed me, because it didn't feel anything like I was needing a big poo. Maybe I just eat more fibre than 90% of the population, because I shit with the effortless nature of a premium racehorse. This felt like my body was being crushed, but not in a painful way- the back pain between these surges was still awful though.

I asked to get in the bath. They told me I couldn't have an epidural if I was in the bath. I said "ah, I don't want to waste the water", and got in the bath (~4:45am). The intense surges were getting closer together now and I was really struggling to breathe, so I made use of the gas and air to try and remind myself to breathe out through my mouth. Midwife managed to do a cervical assessment (I'm not sure how because I was on my hands and knees but I think I managed to briefly flip over for her), and told me I was fully dilated.

At this point, it started to feel like I had a cannonball inside me that was being dragged out by an electromagnet that was being turned on and off. A friend had told me that for her it felt like she could really feel her baby's head engaging and moving down, and I realised this was what I was feeling too. I stayed on my knees, semi upright with one hand on the side of the bath and the other gripping the Entonox tube. I told everyone I could feel that he was coming.

The thing about pushes is... well, they always say "you'll have the overwhelming urge to push". I'm not sure that urge is the right word here. Like I have a lot of urges throughout the day, but none of them have ever felt like this. This was something my body was doing whether I liked it or not, I couldn't even really tell if I had any conscious control of anything. A surge would come, and I guess I was pushing along with it, but it didn't really feel like I was baring down until his head was truly in position.

Ring of fire: right when the baby's head is at the gateway of coming out of you, you get a sensation that they call the "ring of fire". This is your cervix fully opening. I don't remember this actually hurting as much as I was prepared for it to, but I followed advice from a youtube video and made little outbreaths, like "you're blowing out the candles on your baby's birthday cake". And when it had subsided a little, I began to actually push in earnest. My waters finally popped at this point, so don't expect yours to necessary go in the supermarket, Hollywood style. When your baby is RIGHT THERE, you can't deny it, but there's this weird space in between the surges where you feel so lucid, before one grips you again. I got REALLY annoyed right there because the midwife unhooked my bra in preparation for skin to skin. I think I snapped at her "what are you doing?! Get off my bra!" My husband describes it as "it was like you were talking to a boy you don't like."

You're not going to deliver baby's head in one push. It will hover there, kind of pulsing in and out with each surge until it eventually breaks through. You have to lean into this pain and pant and breath. When the head finally breaks through, there's another lucid pause, and it's the weirdest liminal space in the world. Then there's one more push that feels like your insides are unfurling like a huge flower, and then you look over and the man you love is sobbing his eyes out, you realise "Concerning Hobbits" is playing, and the midwife is telling you to gently turn over and somehow lift your leg over the cord so they can easily lift baby away. And this impossibly huge, blue creature gets plonked into your arms in a towel.

Then I got stabbed in the leg with an injection to help deliver the placenta. That bit didn't hurt at all. I asked them to save it so I could get a little biology lecture after (which was great). Watched a lot of blood, and what looked like cud (I am guessing it came out of my arse), pooled in the bath as the water drained. Somehow stood up and got plopped on the bed for stitches. Stitches were horrible. 2nd degree tear (butthole fine, perineum in peril). They put a lubed up finger up my bum to check. That was nice.

So anyway, that's how I gave birth. Sorry this is long. I don't have the energy to edit because I just had a baby.

My biggest advice to anyone who is planning to give birth, is that you need to lean into the pain. This is also true for breastfeeding, because at the start it's quite painful. That pain is going to get you your baby. Some people are able to recontextualise it as something other than pain, but I recognised it as pain, some of which my body had felt before (the lower back, the period cramp sensations), and some of which it hadn't (the cervix stretching).

Apart from that, look up videos of natural delivery. Actually I felt watching a couple of episodes of "I didn't know I was pregnant" a bit helpful, because if those women could deliver without any pain relief or knowledge of what was happening, so could I. You have to remember that billions of people have given birth, successfully, without misery or dying. And it's possible for you too.

Birth and pregnancy prep. Get as fit as you can the year before you get pregnant. You will need powerful arms for dragging yourself around during labour and for holding your baby. Eat properly through pregnancy, and walk a lot. In your final 4 weeks, eat dates every day if you can afford to- they are apparently clinically proven to help open up the cervix. I also ate pineapple. Yoga ball is good for opening the hips and working baby into a good position.

Lastly; the afternoon before I went into labour, I watched Big Trouble in Little China. You should watch that. It's hilarious.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Car Ride- Zemo x Reader

Summary: Zemo gives reader more than just a ride home

Word Count: 1, 751

*wanna be tagged in my next Zemo fic? Click here*

Everyone recovers from a mission differently. Usually your recovery was in more solitude, but with the mix of the stress from the mission, and a certain flirty Sokovian Baron, you needed to recover in a different way.

As the loud music of the club boomed in your ears, and the colourful lights framed the dancing bodies around you, you realised this wasn’t what you needed. You thought dancing and drinking would help the way Zemo had been making you feel, but it didn’t, if anything it only made it worse.

You hate that you were so attracted to him, but you just couldn’t help it. The way he flirted with you didn’t help how you felt either.

Standing at the bar of the packed club, you debated whether you’d get another drink, or whether you’d get an Uber back to the hotel. You could ask Bucky for a lift, but you knew he’d be grumpy if you woke him up this late. Maybe Zemo could take you home.

In your right sober mind, you wouldn’t give such a stupid idea a second thought, but with the alcohol and adrenaline pumping through you, it didn’t sound too bad.

Your body began to heat and tingle as you began to text him.

‘Come pick me up, baby. I need you to take me home 😘’

You texted him. The message a lot more forward then you’d ever been with him. Usually you barely even spoke to him, and now you were calling him ‘baby’ and asking him to take you home.

*****

Zemo’s head lazily turned to the side as he heard his phone ding, on the bedside table. Lightly groaning he sits up and looks to see who was bothering him.

His light scowl turns to a grin as he sees it’s you who’s texted him, and that grin turns into a devilish smile as he sees what you’ve send him.

He wanted to send back something flirty, something to tease you like he has been for the past two weeks, but he doesn’t.

‘I’ll be there in 10, wait out the front for me’

He simply texts back.

If Zemo was being honest, when he began flirting with you, it was mainly a way to annoy James, and that’s why he’d continued. But now with you both just one on one, without Bucky or Sam here to see, he oddly felt nervous.

*****

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you switch between looking at the road and looking at your phone as you wait for Zemo.

The headlights of his fancy car catch your attention, as you playfully bite your lip and climb into the passenger seat.

“Hey, handsome,” you welcome as you close the door.

“Put your seatbelt on,” is all Zemo simply says as he begins to drive off.

Pouting at him, you do as he says. You’re disappointed that your flirting doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere, but what you don’t realise is that Zemo is doing everything in his power to hold back.

Since the moment he pulled up and saw you in your tight dress, he did everything he could to ignore the way you made his cock throb and grow.

******

The drive back to the hotel was quiet and boring so far, and though you tried to fight it, you couldn’t ignore the throbbing in your clit as you tried hard not to grind on the car seat below you.

Looking around you try to distract yourself, but as you look down, you see that Zemo might not be as uninterested as he seems. Seeing the tent in his pants, you realise just how interested he is.

Biting your lip, you begin to form a plan. Taking your seatbelt off, you move closer to him and begin to rub his thigh.

Zemo lets out a surprised moan as you begin to rub his inner thigh, inching closer and closer to where he needs you most.

“Pu-put your seatbelt back on,” Zemo grits out, trying to control himself.

“Mmmm, don’t you wanna play with me, daddy?” You teasingly whisper in his ear, lightly biting his lobe as your fingers trace over his cock.

Zemo can’t help the sigh and moan that leaves his parted lips, as he grips the steering wheel to try to regain control.

“Sit back down, y/n,” he growls out at you.

As he stops at a red light, you do what you’re told with a giggle. Biting your lip, you have another idea as you look at the strained look on Zemos face.

Slightly lifting your short dress, you grab the waistband of your panties, and pull them down your legs. Taking them subtly in your hand, you drop them in Zemos lap, just as the light turns green.

Looking down, Zemo growls at what you’ve dropped in his lap. Looking over at you, he sees you cheekily biting your lip as your fingers begin to trace up your own legs.

So lost in watching you, he doesn’t realise the cars behind him. As one honks at him, his head whips to the rearview mirror, and then back to you.

“Fuck this,” he growls as he takes off from the green lights.

Speeding down the streets, you’re not sure where he’s taking you, and you should be scared, but honestly it just seems to turn you on even more.

Sharply pulling into an alleyway and turning off the car, he wastes no time in wrapping his large hand around your throat. Your eyes begin to widen in shock at his sudden action, and if it wasn’t for his other hand creeping up your thigh, you might be scared.

“You think you can just tease me like that? Standing there in your tiny fucking dress, with your tits and your ass on full display. Getting in my car and trying to fuck me. You are a naughty little girl.” His stern look suddenly turns into a grin as his fingers glide through your wet folds.

“You’re also a dirty little girl, so fucking wet for me, grinding on my hand like a desperate whore. You want daddy to fuck you?” He asks darkly as two of his fingers begin to inch inside of you.

A light gasp leaves your parted lips as you desperately try to hold eye contact with him. You can’t seem to form any words as his fingers begin to move inside of you, instead your mouth just hangs open, frozen in pleasure and submission.

“Answer me.” Zemo growls as his grip on your throat tightens and his fingers begin to move faster.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you desperately moan out.

“Good girl,” he growls at you with a grin as he harshly pushes his lips to yours in a hungry kiss.

Breaking from the kiss, he roughly pushes you back against the passenger seat. Returning to his own dear, he slides his it back and begins to unbutton his trousers. Your mind begins to sober up as you watch him tear desperately at his pants, but you want him no less than you did when the alcohol was fresh in your system.

Wasting no time, Zemo grabs you by the hip and thigh as he pulls you into his lap. Immediately your wet and desperate pussy makes contact with his hard cock, and you let out a needy whine.

“You know, daddy should really punish you for being such a desperate little whore,” he growls, with his hand back around your throat, while his other hand slaps your now bare ass.

“But I’m just as desperate as you are,” he confesses as he pulls you in for another messily heated kiss.

His hand parts from your throat as he pulls down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts to him.

“Oh fuck,” his all he growls out, as he begins to squeeze and press your tits.

Quickly his warm mouth comes over one of your nipples as he begins to bite and suck on the sensitive skin. You can find no words as the pleasure heightens in your body.

Grabbing at his hair with both hands, you push your chest further into his face as you begin to grind on his bare cock.

“Fuck, you really want my cock badly, don’t you sweet girl?” He asks, lightly pulling at your hair.

There’s nothing you can do but attempt to nod, as his touch and his words affect you so intensely. Zemo nods his head along with yours mockingly, while he positions his cock with your entrance, the mockery and light manhandling making you even more aroused.

“God, you’re such a desperate whore,” he belittles, as he thrusts his hips up and forces yours down, filling you up fully.

Your head slams back as you let out a screaming moan, the way he’s filling you feels both amazing and intense. He gives you no time to adjust, as he begins to fuck himself into you, moving your hips to his liking.

“Such a tight little pussy, all for me. For me to fuck, for me to use.” He growls as he harshly fucks you.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens as one of his fingers comes down to your clit, and already you can feel your orgasm approaching.

“Gripping my cock like a good little girl. You going to cum for me already, princess?” He teases, as he grabs at your throat again, bringing your face incredibly close to his, forcing you to look into his intense stare.

“Yes, daddy, gonna cum on your cock,” you moan desperately as you look deep into his eyes.

“Good girl. You look at me while you cum, like the good girl I know you are.” He growls out, his own thrusts becoming sloppier.

“Yes, daddy,” you sigh.

Zemos grip on your hips loosen as you begin to move your hips with his, and his finger on your clit speeds up. You could feel that delicious warmth spread over your body as you stare into Zemos eyes. Giving your hips one last grind, you feel that euphoric feeling wash over you, as you moan loudly against Zemos lips, your sweaty foreheads now touching.

It only took Zemo a few more powerful thrusts before he too was finishing inside of you.

Collapsing against his chest, his strong arms wrap around you as both of your breathing starts to return to normal.

“Good girl,” he gently whispers against your temple, sweetly kiss your forehead.

[ceilidhtransing]

As someone from the UK I'm stunned that there are still people talking about “boycotting” the [US presidential] election in order to “send a message”. No one in politics actually interprets low turnout as some kind of message and that's pretty obvious from the general election we just had over here.

We had crashingly low voter turnout, at 59.9% - down 7.4 percentage points since the last one. But it's worse than that makes it look: 59.9% is just the percentage of actually registered voters who turned up; the proportion of total UK adults who voted was 52%, the lowest since 1928.

Yet Labour still took a massive victory (with fewer votes than in both 2019 and 2017). There has been a little mention in the media of the extremely low turnout, but overall the Story Of This Election as it's being presented by both the media and politicians is not “wow, looks like half the British adult population wanted to send a message that they were dissatisfied with the options” but rather “what an incredible Labour landslide”.

And the fact that Labour won power despite only 52% of adults actually voting is not going to affect the way they run things. They're not going to water down their plans, they're not going to say they have a smaller mandate, they're not going to try to work with smaller parties who took votes from them, they're certainly not going to “move left” to try to scoop up lefties who are decidedly unenthusiastic about the current state of the Labour Party (in fact, if anything they're likely to move even further to the right to try to attract voters who went to the far-right Reform UK). Staying at home and not voting has not “sent anyone a message”. The attitude of politicians towards non-voters is overwhelmingly “why bother trying to appeal to people who aren't inclined to use their political voice”, not “wow we need to enact change right now in order to appeal to people who feel unheard and disenfranchised”. Non-voters are assumed to be apathetic uninterested people who couldn't be bothered voting, not a bloc of highly motivated people with strong views who are refusing to vote in order to make a point. And I'm not saying this is a good thing! Ideally politicians would try to connect with people who don't feel politically represented, especially since non-voters are more likely to be marginalised in some way*. But that's the state of affairs we have. The inaction of not voting is not treated as some special kind of protest action; it's just treated as inaction.

*In this election, turnout was 7% lower in constituencies with the highest proportion of BME people, compared with the lowest, and 10% lower in constituencies with the highest proportion of Muslims, compared with the lowest. Compare this with turnout being 11% higher in constituencies with the highest proportion of >64-year-olds and 13% higher in constituencies with the highest proportion of homeowners.

Trump cannot be allowed to get into power again. And I know that Americans have the horrible quandary of “well how on earth are we supposed to communicate to Democrats that we don't like what they're offering other than not voting for them”. This is one of the many flaws with the US electoral system; it's a simple two-horse race and there's no realistic way to send a message that actually you don't like either option without just making it more likely that the candidate you most hate will win. It's not a great situation to be in, especially since there are very valid reasons not to like Biden and not exactly be hyped to vote for him. But oh my god NOW is not the time to be trying to “send Democrats a message” by not voting (or voting third party). You won't be sending anything and you'll just be handing Trump a second term because that is, very unfortunately, how it works. The best-case scenario of a Trump second term is “merely” an intensification of violence towards people of colour, crackdowns on LGBTQ rights, the further stripping away of reproductive freedoms, heinous crimes at the border and towards migrants and undocumented people, dangerous and apeshit foreign policy that will further endanger vulnerable oppressed groups everywhere, the emboldening of fascism and Christian nationalism not only across America but across the entire world, the list goes on. The worst-case scenario is the straight-up end of the last vestiges of representative democracy the US still has. None of this is a price worth paying in order to “send Democrats a message” and “move them to the left”. And I would feel the same way if Reform UK - a party whose supporters talk about wanting to gun down asylum seekers in the sea - were at the gates of power and the only realistic way to stop them was to vote for the current deeply flawed incarnation of the Labour Party. Some prices are too high.

(And I've seen a few people seem to embrace the notion of a Trump second term with the idea that “then we'll just form the antifascist resistance”. Trust me, you don't want to have to become “the resistance” to a fascist state. That is a last resort. So many people will die if it gets to the point where Trump or some other far-right ghoul is a dictator presiding over an authoritarian one-party state. This stance of “bring on the fascist nightmare so then we can be The Resistance” feels like it comes from people who get their idea of political action from Star Wars rather than from those familiar with the harrowing stories of real-life historical antifascist resistance. It's not hanging out at the secret HQ with your friends and blowing stuff up and having fun; it's being thrown in a camp and executed.)

It's good to want the Democrats to move left, to want to tell them that you're dissatisfied with Biden as a candidate, to want to let them know that you're profoundly furious with their handling of Gaza. But the way the system is set up means that “not voting” is not sending a message at all; it's just handing a victory to their opponents. And again: some prices are too high.

[jaylienpotter]

15 questions, 15 people

Thx for the tag @marauders-everything2

Starting a new post, it was too long. Slightly modified some questions.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nope.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Don't remember, probably yesterday.

3. Do you want to have kids?

No thanks :)

4. What sports do/have you played?

My parents tried putting me in a bunch of shit when I was younger so I've done: swimming (for some years, still not great at it lol), surfing (quit after like 2 months), kizomba dance (hated it), another type of dance, contemporary dance (I liked it but the place closed), and we went skiing several times (which I love). If horseriding counts, I did that for a year. Currently not doing any.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Yeah, sometimes. But I'm also quite direct and straightforward. Only "straight" I am.

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone?

Their fashion style. I love going up to strangers to compliment their outfits!

7. What's your eye colour?

Dark brown.

8. Movies with sad or happy endings?

I love movies with uncertain, ambiguous endings, in which the meaning is up for debate (like Inception).

9. What talents do you have?

Fast at absorbing information (sometimes), hypercreativity, great at bullshitting in academic tests/essays, good at making accents and voices, ummm... Can't remember more.

10. Where would you like to live?

New Zealand. It's pretty and one of the least problematic English-speaking countries (wanna live somewhere where English is the official language).

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing fanfiction and original stories (more like my passion), playing The Sims 4, drawing digitally (haven't in a while though), singing?

12. Do you have any pets?

My parents have 3 dogs (no breed) and koi fish. I want a cat :')

13. How tall are you?

165 cm or 5'5" for the Americans.

14. Favourite subject in school?

At college. Don't really like any of my current classes. Ig English C1.2 because we studied the Broadway play Hamilton. Although I haven't learned anything new.

15. What is your dream job?

Writer/author, would also like to do voice acting. Maybe a psychologist too, haven't decided if I'll take a second college degree.

No pressure tags: @siriuslystarbucks @starsandmoonys @whoopsiesnodaisies @star4daisy @starchaser-lily @half-cold-coffee @cazzythefrogking @starsarestories @my-beloved-fandoms @my-castles-crumbling @reggiecantswimm @artbyace @literallytoogaytofunction @rosemelodyshah @theres-an-endless-starry-sky

[skelliko]

If requests are open, may I make a request for kazutora, chifuyu and baji playing UNO with their s/o and they keep getting spammed with draw +6 cards and +10 cards by s/o who is a UNO master. Who is the most competitive out of the three?

(Also the one im reffering to is UNO: show 'em no mercy. The one where it Includes: 168 x Cards including Wild Draw 6, Wild Draw 10, Skip Everyone, Discard All & Wild Colour Roulette Card).

ask and you shall receive :) I swear the hardest part about writing these is making sure that each one gets roughly the same amount of points, sometimes not even the amount, it's just making sure their all on the same page too and half the time I cant think.

★-Tokyo revengers

- playing Uno with them, show no mercy

๑-featuring: kazutora, chifuyu, Baji

°- kazutora hanemiya

• he was confident at the beginning saying how "this game will be easy" "I'd win for sure" not knowing that uno seems to always have your luck stored at the perfect amount

• he'd try to cheat by taking a quick glimpse of your cards, that's why sometimes he takes too long to draw his cards cause he's taking his time in finding a good moment when you're not looking

• half way through he'd become salty, reallyyyy salty to the point whenever you'd place down any sort of card that gives you a high advantage and kazutora a disadvantage he'd give you a look of displeasure for a good 3 seconds

• he'd curse a few times and make little comments but nothing too major, if anything it'd be under his breath quietly (unlike Baji)

• however he'd be passive aggressive "hope you fall down the stairs next time in public and I'm there to witness it, I won't catch you I'd just watch" with a straight face and almost zero emotion in his voice (he fully well doesn't mean it) but his bluntness was just a facade cause after he saw your reaction he couldn't help but crack a smile and laugh a little

• whenever he'd place down a pick up card of his he'd hold a proud smile and look at you as if he's accomplished something great but his smile would immediately fall the second you place down a +10 "WHAT!?" his sole shattered

• he wins occasionally but knowing that you're a lot better at the game than he is even though it all revolves around luck with the cards and how you use them, that doesn't bring his ego up at all, sometimes he thinks you went easy on him and that'd be when the rounds are longer

• when it came to the card 'discard all' he'd be in disbelief of the power that card holds, all of the same coloured card that you once held were down down in the pile. kazutora couldn't tell which cards he hates more, that one or the +6 / +10

• sometimes you both end up bickering but in a humorous kind of way, going back and forth in-between laughter about who's right about the rules and who's wrong to the point where the only way for you to carry on the game was to make up rules (truthfully who goes by the actual rules?)

• in that time despite him being salty he didn't care all that much about who wins, but as time went on his mind changed and in the middle of taking a little break of playing he tried to understand all the cards and how to play smart even with you sitting in the same room

• at the end of it knowing that he wouldn't be able to win he randomly and calmly got close to you dropping his cards down without wanting to finish the game, he'd then playfully tackle you down with a smile "I give up"

°- chifuyu matsuno

• he can be quite competitive to a certain extent but majority of the times he's having fun

• he'd stare at you as you're placing cards down one after another almost in disbelief and confusion "where the fuck do you keep getting those cards from?!" in that very moment as he shamefully picked up a card from the side deck, he knew he wouldn't be able to win

• he HATES getting the colour switch up cause he never happens to have the right colour and he'd have to pick up more cards than needed, he'd pick up one and it wont be the right colour still, picks up another- nope. his luck with the colours is nonexistent and he gets frustrated with that quite easily and honestly it can get funny with his comments

• "WHERE'S THE RED CARDS!?"

• "I swear to god if I don't get a green card I will jump out that window" he'd make little sarcastic jokes

• because of that he always shuffles the cards twice the amount of time than needed to make sure that all the cards and colours are evened out but even with that he sometimes has to draw 4 cards just to get the one he needs - cause of that he loves the 'discard all' card when he has it in his possession

• he wouldn't help but smile when he thinks he gets good cards and when you'd ask about it he'd go "nothinnggg" all smugly and holding his smile proudly, but of course his pride would be shattered from your card

• hes the type of person to yell out "Uno" loudly and all happily too

• he would take any opportunity to place down his good cards but the second he places them down he regrets it cause he acted rationality and that always benefited you instead of him

• "I don't know how you do it, but I've never met anyone who's as good at uno as you"

• once he had his final loss he'd roll his head back and sigh out a little annoyed, but then he'd smile at you and fling a card at you which then created a little playful card fight making the floor to be scattered with uno cards

°- Baji Keisuke

• at first he didn't seem all that interested, but as the game went on Baji would be the most competitive and determined to win

• definitely would try to cheat, either by taking a glimpse of your cards or try to place a random card of his down when you're not looking

• he'd be swearing and cussing you out for sure but also try to humor it, "oh fuck off with that" "you think your so funny? I will eat those cards and you'll never see them again" "you mother fucker"

• when you'd place down a pick up card of the same colour twice or more Baji would make up new rules, "that's not allowed" "no you can't do that" just so he could buy time and hopefully have a glimpse at your cards even if it means to bicker for a good minute

• after a few slow rounds in the beginning the matches would begin to end more quickly due to the determination of winning, card after card would be placed down as the game would be engraved in both of your minds

• you both would carry on playing over and over until there's a clear winner, sometimes you'd win and so would he but Baji would never give up at all, though in the end you happened to have the most wins and Baji would be a little salty about that for the rest of the day

• in his mind the next time you both play uno he's gonna hide away majority of the pick up cards that way he'd have a higher chance of winning (cheater)

• he'd be a sore loser like a child "no you're not getting a kiss" but in the end you always happen to get more than one

• throughout any given time of the day he would challenge you to a game of Uno, he'd place the deck of cards Infront of you without a word and almost expect you to play, all because he wants to beat your win-streak

• "I'm beating your win-streak whether you like it or not"

 ♡---

[blackdollette]

kinktober day 10.

10.19 - HATE SEX | EURONYMOUS!

݁ ˖🕸️.𖥔 ݁ ˖ {tags} @willsdollface @izuoyarmin @auggiethecreator @angelsanarchy @s-al-em @that-one-persons-posts @kashmirclam @areuirish @oliviah-25 @bl1ssfulbaby

previous: 10.17 - MUTUAL MASTURBATION!

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 2.3k (holy shit. i rlly didn't mean for this one to be so long)

contents: enemies, lots of tension, degrading, car sex, hand job, unprotected p in v

you stared down at the pale-golden liquid in your hand, held by a crystal clear wine glass. you stood awkwardly in the corner of the party host’s kitchen, sticking out like a sore thumb no matter how much you tried to blend in. you found yourself always seeking the wrong kind of attention, no matter the situation. whether it was catching the predatory eye of someone while walking down the dark streets of your town or simply just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, you just couldn’t catch a break.

the entire house was lit up with warm colours that could brighten up the souls of all those who entered, drastically contrasting the dark clothes you preferred to be adorned in. you didnt know why you even bothered going to these things anymore. you always sensed trouble coming your way, though you were usually wrong and just being paranoid. but not tonight.

a low, unwelcoming voice spoke. “look who’s here.” your head shot up to see the voice's owner, though it’s tone was already engraved in your mind. your gaze contorted into a bitter glare, but you kept your words to yourself. you turned away, setting your glass on the counter. “had no one to sleep around with tonight?” the mockery in his voice made you want to punch him, but you kept yourself together.

throughout high school, he terrorized you for simple things that you had no control over. everyone constantly teased you, saying that you and him would make the perfect couple, but you did everything in your power to keep that from happening. not that it was took any effort. he hated your guts.

“oystein. it’s a pleasure as usual. is this the first time you’ve risen from your coffin this year?” your voice dripped with bitterness so strong that you could’ve sworn you saw him flinch. the tension between you two had been undeniable for as long as you could remember. he belittled you for being a selfish whore, though you were still a virgin. he rolled his eyes, letting them travel up and down your body.

“what are you doing here anyway? other than clearly trying to drink all your problems away.” every word he spoke felt like fire igniting in your mind. he always knew the perfect thing to say to get on your nerves. but you hated letting him know that his hateful words were hurting you. you went to move past him, but he stepped in front of you, blocking your path just as you moved your leg forward.

you noticed his gaze remaining on your exposed thighs in your black skirt for just a second longer than necessary. you shifted away, distancing yourself from the dark figure in front of you. he noticed he was making you feel this way, with a slight look of satisfaction on his face. neither of you could deny the tension growing between you two, so you decided to break it by walking away.

you made your way to the door, leaving him to gawk at your ass as you left the noisy scene. this was the shortest interaction the two of you had ever had, but your heart raced as you entered the dark city streets. you dug around in your pocket, searching for your keys and unlocking your car.

you opened the door, letting yourself in as you took a sigh of relief. you had only had a drink or two, but your mind buzzed with restless thoughts about the encounter. you put your keys into the ignition, preparing to drive even though you were a little tipsy. the engine gurgled, as if unsatisfied with your stupid decision.

you tried again, and then once more but the car didn’t move. you slammed your foot on the pedal, cursing at how inconvenient the timing was. you put your head into the steering wheel, trying to settle yourself down. a few deep breaths did the trick, but you kept yourself in this vulnerable position, letting your patternless thoughts flow through your mind.

you lost track of time, allowing it to become a meaningless form around you until a violent bang on your window broke your trance. euronymous was there, his expression unreadable. you rolled down your window, making direct contact with his striking blue eyes. from the outside, he could see that your car had broken down.

“your car broke down, idiot. need a ride? and i don't mean it like that, you slut.” he couldn’t help but smirk at his own remark, but you simply brushed off his invitation. “i don’t need your help. leave me alone.” his face hardened slightly. “get out or i’ll light up this piece of junk with you in it.” you glared at him. “try it, asshole.”

he was clearly growing annoyed at your resistance, deciding to take things a step further. he opened the car door, unbuckling your seat belt before swiftly picking you up and carrying you to his car. “what the hell?! put me down!” you kicked and pushed him, but he didn’t budge. “you know you don’t want that, doll.” he opened the passenger door of his van, dumping you inside recklessly.

he slammed the door shut before you could try to escape, entering through his own door and buckling himself in, speeding down the streets in an instant. you grumbled, crossing your arms and putting your foot on the seat, causing your inner thigh to be in his perfect line of sight. his foot remained on the pedal, hands on the wheel, but he couldn’t help but glance at the view. it wasn’t a bad sight, so he kept his gaze on it for a while, causing the vehicle to swerve.

“are you trying to kill me?” you spat, shooting him a bitter glare. he scoffed turning his attention away from you, though the flutter in his pants wanted to keep looking for just a little longer. “didn’t your mother ever teach you how to sit like a lady? close your damn legs.” he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “or what?” you noticed the red tinge of his cheeks, wanting to see how far you could take it.

you spread your legs a little more, your black thong just ever so slightly in his view. a breathless gasp escaped his parted lips, causing him to lose focus momentarily. you smiled to yourself, knowing that you finally got him to shut up. your eyes travelled the interior of the van. it was messy, but you’d learned to appreciate a cozy environment with no filter. as you continued looking around, you saw him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, seeming like he was trying to hide something. 

it stuck out so conspicuously that you didn’t even have to search for it. a boner pressed against his jeans, begging to be let out for some pleasure. a short laugh emerged from your throat. “getting tense over there?” embarrassment filled his expression, but he didn’t respond to your comment. he cleared his throat, stopping at a red light. 

“dont wanna talk now, huh? fine. let’s see how much you can take.” and with that, you quickly unbuttoned his fly and allowed his cock to spring out. he gasped, nearly hitting another car. “w-what are you d-” he was cut off when you spat on your hand and started pumping his cock quickly, instantly summoning loud groans from him. 

your squeezed your hand around his length. you could feel his body trembling underneath you at your painfully slow pace. you found yourself enjoying the torture that you were putting it through. his chest heaved, his entire body shook, but he still kept himself together. “j-just get it done with already..!” 

you smeared his precum with your thumb, running it up and down his tip. you were putting him through something excruciating right then, but you enjoyed every pained noise that came out of him as he tried his best not to drive the both of you to your deaths. your technique was perfect, but he couldn’t handle being teased like this any longer. “for fuck’s sake!” he whirled his car around, dangerously driving it into a dark alleyway. 

fear filled your mind for a fraction of a second, but disappeared in an instant when he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a deep, hungry kiss. you were shocked for a moment, but his rough, skilled lips lulled you into a lust-filled sensation. the kiss intensified, him biting your lip and drawing a line of blood. 

you snapped your head back, panting as you watched his cock throb. he locked the car doors, darkening all the windows so that nobody could see what he was about to do. “go to the back. now.” his fists were shaking in such a way that instilled fear into you once again. you carefully crawled to the backseat, waiting for his next move.

he joined you, slamming the door shut. before you had a moment to process anything, he tore off your shirt and skirt, leaving you in your lacy bra and thong. you felt so bare and exposed to him, feeling a familiar sensation as he leered at you. you’d felt this same stare on you before, but you couldn’t tell exactly what he thought about when he looked at you like this. but now you knew. he had been eye-fucking you.

all the inhumane things he imagined doing to you were written on his face in black and white. and now he finally had the chance. he pushed you back, forcing your head to the window as your legs were laid across the seats. without warning, he ripped off your panties, stuffing them into your mouth and exposing your soaking wet cunt.

your muffled protests were interrupted as he pinned your hands above your head, shoving two fingers into you. you screamed out, already feeling your pussy submit to his aggressive touch. “look at you, whore. look at how fucking pathetic you are.” his harsh words stung your heart, but the pleasure dominated any logical thought that you had.

your legs trembled as the hot feeling in your stomach grew to an irreversible point. he curled his fingers inside of you, drawing out long sobs from the depths of your soul. you felt your hole clenching around his digits. he could hear the squelching noise coming from your, the bundle of nerves deep inside of you nearly crushing his fingers.

as your body shook in preparation for your climax, he pulled his fingers out, coated with your fluids. you spat out the cloth in your mouth, your cheeks flushed with rage. “what was that for?! i was so close and you just had to rui-” he clasped a hand over your mouth, rubbing some of your slick of your face. 

“i really can’t stand you, y’know that? i’d kill you if you weren’t so…” his words got lost. he shook his head, brushing away the thought. “but i’m not done with you yet.” he pushed you onto your back, forcing his full-length into you all at once. you sobbed out, feeling your tight walls burn as they wrapped around his length.

“y-yeah, just like that... take it, bitch.” his thrusts were rough and sloppy, sending mixed signals throughout your body. his skin slapped with yours as he pounded into your sore little pussy, rubbing messy circles onto your swollen clit. you came as soon as he entered your tight little hole, feeling your cum leaking down to the raggedy seats.

euronymous’ eyes stayed glued to your face as he fucked you mercilessly, enjoying the feelings he was inflicting on you. he looked at the pretty tears that sat so perfectly on your lashes. your parted lips and flushed cheeks. he felt his brain turning to mush as his balls slapped the base of your hole. he found himself slurring a bunch of nonsense as he became completely pussy-drunk. “i-ive wanted to do this for the longest time…”

his fingers dug deep into your thighs, forcing them apart as he marked them up. “c’mon… speak to me, doll.” his voice had turned into a sultry whisper that made you even wetter. but you weren’t willing to soften up to him just yet. “i… i-i hate you…” breathless moans interrupted your speech, very much to his pleasure. he buried his head in the crook of your neck, whispering little things into you. “that’s just the way i like it…”

he forced one of your legs over his shoulder, sending a wave of fluid through your body. you screamed loud enough that the entire city could hear you. a waterfall of your liquid squirted around his length as his lazy thrusts completely lost their structure, his hot cum pouring into you. tears flowed down your cheeks as he filled you up so well.

his groans dominated your noises, making you vibrate just a little. cum leaked out of your hole, a pool already formed underneath you. he finally pulled out of you, your bodies connected by a string of cum. he collapsed on top of you, clearly too tired to realize what he was doing. you sighed, pushing him off of you. “alright, buddy. that’s enough for one night.”

you searched for your clothes, realizing after a moment that they were damaged beyond repair. he took off his leather jacket, placing it over your shoulders. you looked at him, but he didnt meet your eyes. he looked down, but you could see a tiny smile forming on your face. “you should, uh, probably head home now. i don’t know how much more of your presence i can take.” 

you rolled your eyes, but in a more playful manner this time. you let yourself out of the car, wanting to say one last thing before you left. “i still hate your guts, but we should… do this again some time.” he opened his mouth to speak, but you shut the door, walking down the street as the scene replayed in your mind over and over again.

author's note: soso sorry that this came out so late, but i rlly like this one even tho its super long. and why is this month going by so fast :(( only 6 fics left to go

[sylenth-l]

Hi hello, I love your art so much LIKE MY BROTHER. IT'S SO YUMMY, THE SHADOWS THE EXPRESSIONS, I love how you draw Timur , Felwinter and Osiris together 🙏 little bird with his two funky adoptive parents. I stare at your art like , I'm always ready and hyped to give traditional art another try ✨

If I was to go back, any tips for which watercolours to pick? I so far got only aniline colours.

Aah, thank you so much!! 😳💙

Hmmm, the thing is, I use fountain pen inks almost always for painting. I don't use watercolour much, so I can't really suggest anything in particular… I have a selection of colours from different brands, of course, I know quite a lot about pigments, and I like using watercolour from time to time to add some special effects to my works. For sketching outdoors it's also the easiest to use among all other paints, probably. But painting a whole artwork with it……… I try doing it sometimes, but every single time I end up thinking "God, I wish I used inks instead, I hate this so much, why is it so BLEURGH". I guess watercolour just isn't my medium 😂 

I can share my thinking process when building up a palette though, I use it with all mixable mediums I use, be it inks, watercolour, gouache, etc. I found it to be the most effective (and money-saving, lol) approach for me.

So what I want for my main mixing palette is to have 3 sets of primary trios. All colours also must be as smooth as possible, with no surprises or unwanted colour separation. For watercolour - not granulating ones.

(my camera tends to make all colours brighter and also fails to see the subtle difference between some shades, but you can still get the idea)

The first trio is extremely vivid, consisting of bright cool colours - lemon yellow, cyan, magenta-leaning pink. It gives you access to all the bright, open colours.

Second is the classic they teach in all art schools (probably, from what I've heard, I never went into one alkjdshfk) - sunshine yellow, bright warm red and ultramarine blue. This gives you a huge selection of warmer, natural colours, like all shades of golds, eggplant purples, olive greens, etc. It also allows some nice selection of wood browns.

Third is my personal favorite, the muted trio. You kinda can get similar colours from the previous trio, but I prefer having these separately, because of how often I use them all. It consists of golden ochre-leaning yellow, dark bloody red and dark indanthrone blue. It gives you the most beautiful browns, beiges, blacks and other rich, deep colours.

On top of that I also like to have at least one decent black (in my case it's Quink Black ink, I cannot live without it).  And these 10 would be my essentials. Other colours I add to my mixing palette are basically shortcuts to the shades I find myself mixing the most - like a few browns and violets. There are also a few inks that I need for some very specific purposes - like, I have a very vivid cold magenta ink to mix a certain bright cold shade of the Void, and also a fluorescent orange for adding shiny Exo LED lights. And etc.

(Actually I'm currently in the process of re-organizing my main palette and also considering making a few small sets for painting some characters specifically)

I also have a separate selection of chromatographic inks, which can probably be compared to granulating watercolours… But not quite. A few examples:

Here I don't have any special notes or advices, just get the ink you like and enjoy it. Some of these I use so often that I always keep them in my main palette, and others I only get out for some special occasion. These are also mixable btw - I constantly add other ink in Quink Black to get different shades of it.

However, I must say that not all of the ~special effects~ inks are polite and well-behaved, some will agree to work only on some specific paper after a significant amount of coaxing, and others will straight out say "fuck you" at the most crucial moment, even if they worked perfectly just a moment ago.

Btw, when working with inks, I really recommend to put it into smaller bottles with a dropper, so you don't have to open the big bottle each time. It's both easier to use for you and much safer for inks! 

ANYWAY, I hope this post was of some use for you 🌈

[abiiors]

haunt // bed - pt. 1

a/n: a while ago, i wrote do me a favour after which i said, i would write a matty hate sex fic. well this is it (and perhaps a bit more than anyone asked for), read dmaf again if you want to refresh your memory, or don't. there are 3 parts to this + an epilogue. i also know very little about western weddings, so ignore the inconsistencies lol.

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

minors dni! part 2, part 3

wc: 2.7k

see u in an hour xx

charli’s text flashes on your screen, illuminating a small corner of the dimly lit room. it’s not that late in the day, in fact, it’s quite early—only about 10 am. you’re supposed to be hurrying around the room, checking for any last minutes things you might have forgotten. you won’t be back home until tomorrow after all. yet here you are, surrounded by the things that should have been packed in your bag last night. 

the dress, laid out on your bed, feels like a weapon; red silk slippery enough to slide between your fingers effortlessly. “a wily vixen”, that’s what charli had called you when she'd seen you in it for the first. the thought of that day—bridesmaids dress shopping with four other excited girls—brings a small smile to your face. 

everything laid out here is a weapon really; your four-inch, sharp heels, the delicate and dainty diamond jewellery, the makeup you plan on wearing—blood red lipstick, a perfect shade match for the dress. an expensive crystal bottle of the same perfume you have used for the past six years. 

familiarity breeds contempt. familiarity is also an excellent knife to twist in someone’s gut. because everything here, today, is meant to maul and wound him.

see you in an hour babe, love you. you write back and chuck your phone onto the pillow where it bounces a little before nestling between its creases. you stare at it, maybe your body still yearns for a call that will never come? no more can’t wait to see you up there. no more cheeky selfies in a state of half-undress. just a smooth, black screen.

right then…time to get going. 

charli has been flittering around the room for the last twenty minutes. her white dress fits her like a dream, her makeup is a work of art and her excitement about marrying george is so palpable in the room that at least one person squeals or sighs every five minutes. 

most importantly, the smile on her face is a permanent fixture. and every time you look at it, a warmth spreads through your body. she deserves this—the happiness, the celebration. the happily ever after. no matter how your marriage ended, you won’t stop believing in it for her. 

“so!” charli walks over to you and takes your hand, “how do i look?” she twirls and the dress swirls around her, the tiny crystals catching light and making her shimmer like starlight.

you laugh in response, “like george is about to go into cardiac arrest the minute he sees you!”

the pair of you giggles like teenagers. you can so clearly picture it before it has even happened. the joy and love that will shine on george’s face; his excitement, quiet yet infectious and for a brief moment you’re transported back to your own walk down the aisle. 

small, unsure steps, worried about falling flat on your face in those tall heels, but all of that had evaporated the second you had seen his tear-stained face. and the bright smile that had bloomed a split second later. 

but that’s how long the ache lasts; a brief moment. it’s bad enough that you’re going to have to be civil to him, there’s no need to make it worse with unnecessary nostalgia. 

besides, there’s her to think about. 

she in question is a beautiful, leggy blonde who is at least seven years younger than him. not that you’ve seen either of them today…yet. it’s only because you and charli got drunk one night, four weeks before the wedding, and she felt bad about keeping it from you that matty had a plus one. and that’s how you fell into the rabbit hole of scrolling through this girl’s Instagram profile at two in the morning. 

if you thought you knew his type, you would be dead wrong. physically speaking, she is the exact opposite of you—someone who looks like they belong on a giant billboard in times square, perfect and stunning. then there’s the more questionable aspects of her feed. the flat tummy tea adverts and the paid partnerships with various brands that are always under fire for being unethical.

but that’s the ugly green monster rearing its head. it’s not like you aren’t known for indulging in vanity every once in a while. 

she will be here today, no doubt, clinging onto his arm like a decorative little thing—woah, where did that snide thought come from?! you shake your head to yourself, at least a little embarrassed. he’s not even here yet and he’s already screwing with your head; pushing you back into old jealous and insecure habits. someone clears their throat. 

nora, one of charli’s longtime friends, has her champagne glass raised. a toast. she takes a deep, shaky breath and smiles tearily at the room, about to give her sentimental speech when a resounding knock echoes and cuts her off before she has even begun. 

five heads turn to the locked door and you happen to be standing closest to it. 

‘i’ll get it,’ you tell no one in particular, hand already on the doorknob. the possibility of it hits you way too late. 

it hits you right as his clean-shaven face comes into view. 

it has been ten months. ten months since you gave up the last name healy and changed it back to your maiden name on all your official documents. it had felt like a form of catharsis, getting it done with such urgency back then. but you also remember the days when you would be asked to state your full name and stagger a little at how odd it sounded to no longer have healy in it. to not have a ring around your finger to fidget with. no one to hold you at night. 

but back to now. back to here. 

it’s not hard to see that he has changed a lot in the last ten months. he looks serious; not necessarily sombre—it’s his best friend’s wedding, after all—but mature, more grown up. the grey in his hair, in his beautiful curls, is now much more prominent. the crow's feet around his eyes are more or less the same (and it sends a small pang through you; has he not laughed recently?). his mouth holds—held—a faint smile that’s already slipping, already morphing into a thin line. the exact same face that you woke up to for years now turning into a mask of carefully arranged neutrality.

“charli,” he whispers roughly and then clears his throat, “here to check on charli.” and just like that, he steps past you and into the room where he’s engulfed into a hug by the bride (and slapped on the bum by another bridesmaid but you ignore that for now).

pointedly, you also ignore the sting that comes with being sidestepped so easily. 

you stand by the door, back still to the room, for a second longer than necessary. it doesn’t even register that you’re letting the warm spring air in. is this really how little seeing you impacts him? it must have. because if he’s here then she is also here. 

“tell him i’m fine!” charli’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you shut the door softly. “and tell him not to meddle, i’ve got my girls.” she looks at you over his shoulder and throws a wink. your gut tells you it’s nothing but a charity gesture, just trying to gauge the tension between you two. guilt gnaws at you—she shouldn’t have to play peacemaker, she shouldn’t have to worry about two adults behaving themselves. 

“only doing my duty here,” matty raises his hands defensively, “keeping the groom happy.” 

the rest of them tease and taunt him playfully while you take the time to admire—no, simply look at—his suit. it’s nowhere near as nice as the one he wore at your wedding, of course not. but it’s beautifully made, tailored to fit and accentuate his muscles. and there are a lot of those now, that much is evident from the way his sleeves stretch over his biceps. he fills it out nicely, not that he didn’t before, but something about the fabric straining across his arms does funny things to your stomach. funny, you thought that feeling was a thing of the past. then there’s the navy trousers that compliment his backside rather nicely. 

there’s a part of you that is appalled at all these observations you have been making but there’s another part—bored and much more matter-of-fact—that reminds you that there’s nothing under those clothes that you haven’t seen, touched, licked or sucked before. there’s nothing new. he is still the same as he was before, just now with a few extra muscles. 

“go away,” charli’s nudges him gently toward the door. “we’ll be out in fifteen.”

he hugs her just before he leaves, dropping a friendly kiss on her head. after everything you’re glad no one had to pick sides in the divorce. you’ve at least managed to hold the friend group together, even though the same can’t be said about your marriage. 

matty leaves just like he came in, sidestepping you and making sure he’s looking straight ahead. there’s a brief second however—a fraction of one really—when he slows down and breathes in. his adam’s apple bobs roughly and his face struggles to hold the blank expression. 

but it must have just been you projecting right? no one can go through that much in half a second. 

“there you are, darling,” denise walks in on you mid-smoke. “i was looking for you.”

she’s in a beautiful pink dress that brushes her knees and makes her look ten years younger than she is. you blush slightly at having been caught smoking; it’s a recent habit, not one she would be aware of, and you don’t want her to judge you for it. 

“denise,” you try to hide the half-smoked cigarette, “you look beautiful.”

she pointedly looks at your hand and laughs. “my son does enough of that.” then she straightens up, as if bringing matty so casually into this conversation was a mistake. you suppose it was—it does make your heart skip a beat. 

“i just wanted to say hi, darling,” she adds hastily, “and look at you…” her eyes scan you from head to toe, linger on your face for just a second before she smiles again. “simply stunning.”

“thank you.” your voice comes out in a whisper, fighting to get past the lump in your throat. you didn’t think there would ever come a day when she would have to so formally stop by to ‘say hi��. yet here you are, almost a pair of estranged mother and daughter. 

“i don’t…” she starts but shakes her head minutely, “i don’t want to condescend you. but are you okay? with matty bringing that girl, i mean.”

that piques your interest. “that girl?” you stifle a little giggle. “sounds like you don’t like her…”

denise shrugs, leaning against the wall and looking at the bushes in front of her. “she’s okay, i guess.” then she takes a bit to smooth out her dress. “but she’s not you.”

“dearly beloved…” the officiant, charli’s godfather, begins, which you tune out instantly. weddings are lovely and romantic, wedding speeches are dull and boring. besides, like it or not, something else has captured your attention. 

you stand behind the bride, holding the ring she’s supposed to put on george later. and right in front of you stands matty, holding the matching platinum band in his hands. adam and ross stand behind him, smiling and occasionally laughing along with the rest of the guests. you tried it at first too, to only keep your attention on george—who looks very handsome and beams wide the whole time—but it’s impossible when you feel your ex’s piercing stare right on you. 

you would have thought he would stick to the little ignoring act from before. instead, his eyes have lingered on you from the second you walked down the aisle as a part of the processional. tracking your every move, every small step. frankly, it’s insulting. does he think you would ruin the wedding as some sort of diabolical revenge against him? you scoff internally; of course, he would think such self-centred thoughts, it’s just all about him, after all.

you raise an eyebrow at him. what’s your fucking problem?

he smiles back; an arrogant curl of his mouth that turns his face from sweet to insufferable within a matter of seconds. you, his eyes seem to say, you’re my problem. 

well too fucking bad then…

you huff and look away to the side at the guests. it’s only about fifty people from both sides. just family and friends—a lovely kind of intimacy the couple had asked for. you smile at george’s parents who sit in the first row. his mum dabs at her eyes, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. and behind them sit denise and tim. right next to her. 

she’s exactly what she looks like on her instagram page. dainty and beautiful, picture-perfect elegant. her whole face looks like it could be hand-crafted by the gods (or very expensive surgeons according to the snide little voice in your brain) but her eyes are bone dry. 

that’s because she doesn’t belong here, your brain chimes in. not among your friends and your family. 

well, ex-family…

her name doesn’t immediately come to the forefront of your mind. all you know from that drunken night is how charli made you block all her socials at the end of it. as if you were going to go back to them again and again. as if you have no purpose in life other than obsessing over your ex’s new girl. 

she sighs, then looks out the window with a bored expression on her face and you have to focus your attention back to the bride and groom before you do something drastic. not before you catch matty looking at you from the corner of your eye, however. 

not just at you…he’s staring at the plunging neckline of your dress that shows off your cleavage wonderfully. with the big window to your side, it’s so clear to see every little detail of his face—his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip (he’s unaware that he’s doing it. you know that for a fact). his pupils that are blown out wide, making almost the entirety of his eyes look black; dark and hungry. 

your mouth curls into a smirk, arrogant enough to mirror his own. well, this is interesting. 

matty’s mouth presses into a thin line. even now, after you caught him so red-handed, he’s trying to deny it. but you don’t miss his ears turning the telltale shade of pink. 

“...and i promise to love you for the rest of my life.” george’s voice breaks on the last word, the tears flowing freely but he smiles through all of it. in front of you, charli’s shoulders shake. they haven’t even put the rings on each other yet and they’re already emotional. it makes you laugh, and surprising, you feel the tears escaping your eyes.

i promise to love you for the rest of my life. that’s what matty had said too. i promise to dance in the kitchen with you and do all my silly little romantic gestures. i promise to never let you fall. i promise, i promise, i promise…

so many of them unkept, so many of them just pretty words spoken on a perfect day in front of a tearful audience. 

“i do!” charli squeals before the question is even finished, making everyone laugh. a wet chuckle escapes you at her infectious joy. 

“do you, george, take charli to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks. 

“i do,” he says patiently and charli sticks her tongue out at him. 

you sincerely hope they stay like this for the rest of their lives—polar opposites who complete each other. not people who are so similar, they don’t know how to exist in the same space anymore. 

matty smiles, first at the couple and then, shockingly, at you. husband and wife he mouths. 

jarringly still, you smile back. 

i would love to hear what you think 🤭

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Question (because i'm curious and because i love enabling friends' hyperfixation): what is Tengu no Daidokoro? Why do you like it? What are you hoping for in a s2?

Also, should i watch it?

I adore Koisenu Futari and i have other similar queer-people-in-their-daily-life Japanese shows on my watch list (i loved my dining table and i have Kinou nani Tabeta and Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna waiting) that i just know i will love once i have the time to watch it!

Is Tengu no Daidokoro anything like it?

Thank you so much for this ask cause it gives me the opportunity to share my love for this show and also maybe make other people want to check it out.

Before anything else. This is not a queer show. All those shows you mentioned are some of my favourite shows, as you can see by my choice of pfp I adore Koisenu Futari as well. Kinou Nani Tabeta and Tsukutabe are magic and I really hope you get to them because they are so amazing. But Tengu is not that. It's an absolute gem and I adore it.

Now. Why do I love it? Why I am excited like it's christmas morning and I still believe in santa? So many reasons...

-IT'S GORGEOUS (if I hadn't binged this ,I would've giffed every frame)

I mean the greens are just incredible. All the colours in these show are actually. The change in the colours is amazing as well. My delusional brain will believe that this second season was made specifically so that me and @colourme-feral could once again lose our minds over THE GREENS.

-It's about two brothers. (I love stories around family)

Motoi (older brother played by Komagine Kiita) and On. A city 14 year old who comes to stay at his older brother's house in a rural area. They are estranged and have little in common. On is the perfect representation of 'kids these days...' (I know I'm getting old when this is what comes to mind), completely hates the idea of being away from the city and technology and internet (I related). Motoi is at home here, he's very quiet and calm. I love them. I love this relationship. I love how it grows and I can't wait to see where they go next.

-The food. (I love food)

Motoi has his own vegetable garden and he makes everything from there or other local sources. Just like the shows you mentioned in your ask, the food is a major ingredient to this story. It's the thing that brings these brothers together as well. the scene in the above gif is one of my favourites because of that. Not gonna give you spoilers.

-The dog. but also...

this is where the show takes a different turn than you'd expect. although not really because it's in the synopses, but if you only knew this show from gifs and this post you would not see this one coming. There's a supernatural element to this show. For starters that cute dog you see there, he talks. He's a talking dog!!! And he is delightful. but also this

(Can we just stop for a second and appreciate how beautiful Kiita is? I barely recognized him in 25 ji.) So yeah it's in the show's name, Tengu's Kitchen. Tengu's are a legendary creature from japanese folklore and the brothers are descendants of them. (more info here about that if you're curious).

-The three of them.

I adore them. I don't want to say more so you'll just have to watch it.

-the setting (did I mention it's gorgeous?)

I know I've mentioned the visuals but it's not just that. it's the scenery and the rhythm and the music (I love the ost of this show) and the everything. Look I watch shows for a bunch of different reasons. This one, I watch it, or rewatch it as the case may be, for my soul. It's beautiful, it's soothing, it's touching, and I feel better after watching it. I really can't explain it any other way.

There are more things I could say honestly but this is already so much longer than I intended. But it's 10 episodes of 30 minutes and as with a lot of jdramas, an incredible human @aoinousagi has fansubbed it for our viewing plesure. here is the link to their post.

These are just some of the reasons I love it and can't wait to watch more. I never expected it but this day is better because of that announcement alone. I'm so happy. I will do rewatch soon, and probaly gif more of it so maybe more people will want to check it out.

@yannig thank you so much for this question. Sorry if it's a bit of a incoherent mess but I'm really excited and having trouble putting it into words. And I know there are a lot of shows to watch and not enough time to watch them all, so of course no pressure, but if you're ever in the mood for something that is wholesome and beautiful I do recommend it highly.

[marchsfreakshow]

Opium And Monique Gibeau {James Patrick March x Reader}

It's 1938. You've been having to do sex work in the dark, until one client takes you to The Hotel Cortez.

Suggestive, so -18 proceed with caution.

Warnings: implied smut, general death warnings of blood, knives and such.

Inspired by "Noel's Lament" from Ride The Cyclone. Also 2.6k words this time, v proud of myself<3

Your perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

I was holding a small, brown bag in one hand, walking down a street with a cigarette in another hand. The streets were dusty and damp, and a homeless person in every other building. Street lamps dimly lit the Los Angeles roads, cars passing by to and fro. They were full colours of blue, black and white. Greys filled the car's shadows.

The tall buildings all looked the same. Meters tall, symmetrical windows, the darkness looming over them. Coughing, muttering, tiny breaths and sneezing went past me as I ventured into Los Angeles. They distracted me as I thought about the request the stranger gave to me. Throwing my cigarette on the floor, I opened my bag and took hold of the letter.

It read;

"Come meet in The Hotel Cortez. 10 pm, on October 30th. You will have to find the room.

Explore the Hotel all night if you must. I know it will cost extra, but I will be willing to pay more for the mystery of finding me.

-??"

Every read-over made me so intrigued that I did not notice where I was walking. I bumped into a man and almost fell. Luckily, he grabbed my arms and pulled me up, our eyes meeting immediately. There was no light there like a murder had just been committed. It was almost attractive, but the client needed me. "Excuse me! I am so sorry." He just nodded.

"Where are you going, sweetheart?" He smiled and held out my letter. I raised an eyebrow and stuffed the letter in my bag, in turn grabbing my lipstick and applying it as I walked in front of him. "You seem in a rush." He mentioned.

"The Hotel Cortez." Immediately, he took my hand and rushed me for about 5 minutes. Everything in my peripheral vision became blurry as I ran. God, I hate heels. Soon enough, he stopped and I held onto my head, as the rush stopped, and a headache formed everywhere.

The doors became gold as my vision cleared, but the mysterious man had gone. People were back to rushing to and fro, not even muttering 'excuse mes' to each other. It disgusted me. Sure I was a whore, but at least I had manners. However, I took a deep breath and opened one of the doors, a lavish hotel appeared before me.

It was breathtaking. Still, I wondered who wanted to meet me here. Everything almost overwhelmed me. Straightening my posture, I walked up to the reception and rang the bell. I rang, rang and waited for what felt like hours. No one appeared. 'How disappointing' I thought, staring up at the two stairs.

Slowly, I made my way up the staircase, seeing a bar before me. Lots of whiskey it seems. It took up a lot of the second level and added nothing but mystery to the hotel I was called to. October 30th. A day before All Hallows Eve. Not even a decoration, which was quite boring. The glum aura of the hotel only got deeper as I roamed the long, windy halls.

The walls all looked the same and never changed. Elevators on one of the walls. The doors also looked the same. Numbers kept going up. My heels were feeling like hell, so I stopped by a door, and took my heels off, immediately feeling relief. Thankfully, that wasn't the door I was looking for. At least I hoped. So I carried on walking around the halls. I felt crazy, wandering and roaming the empty halls, small sounds coming out of every single dark red door. Before an open door came into my eyes. I stopped next to it and peeked my head through.

What stood there was a lush, velvet room. Dark green filled the floor and carpets. Small tables held alcohol, snacks, cigarettes and more. The bed was bigger than I had ever imagined. It almost looked royal, and I had a suspicion, this was the room.

But what took my attention was a man. He stood around 6 feet. The suit was navy and looked freshly pressed. The shoes were a sharp black, but shiny. As I looked him up, I saw his face. Handsome, with a small moustache, and slicked-back hair. But his eyes made me realise something. This was James Patrick March. But, he was dead. He died 8 years ago. It shocked me, and by accident, I dropped my heels, which made him snap his head around. "Ah! You're here." He just smiled. His smile was attractive, but I stood there in shock.

Very quickly, I brought myself back, and put my heels on. "Are you the writer of this letter?" I asked, holding it up out of my bag. He walked towards me, and grabbed it, immediately reading it.

"Yes, indeed I did."

"But sir, with respect, you are James Patrick March. You should be dead. Did you fake the suicide?" I asked, crossing my arms. He seemed to admire my shape. He looked at me like he was about to make me a new person.

"You are correct in the fact that I should be dead my dear Y/N. However, I am indeed dead." He smiled at me, offering his hand to me. I took his hand in mine, and he led me in, closing the door behind us. We made eye contact, and it never broke. Questions I wanted to ask, ran past my thoughts. But our silence was kept as James sat me down. The bed was just as soft as I hoped, and he went to the table, picking up a drink. "Absinthe. Have some."

"Absinthe?"

"Well yes." He held it out to me, so I took it, not wanting to make him upset. Keeping, almost, harsh eye contact with him, would kill him to soften his gaze as I stopped the gross liquid down my throat. It burned like the Opium someone had me take.

It seemed I started to sell my love for that drug. It kept me sane as I dressed in black which only hit my lower thigh, the fishnets ripped in places I didn't know. And I always wear dark heels always. Kitten heels, but tonight I decided to make them taller. Makeup was quiet on my face, but it was there. James took it all in, and I stood up, my bag now on the bed. "James. If you are a ghost, why can I touch you?" I asked, confidently placing a hand on his shoulder, attempting to make this whole experience quicker.

"Ghosts can interact with the living in this hotel, and this hotel only." He responded, taking the drink from my hand and simply placing a finger under my chin.

"Does it feel different? To do it with a living human?"

"I have not yet experienced that. That's why you are here yes?" Without thinking, I nodded. Something drew me to him. But I couldn't tell what it was. He was a serial killer, a madman. So I took his arms, brought him to the bed, and then slowly undid the buttons on his blazer. "Take your time dear, don't rush it." He smiled, starting to kiss me, the taste of absinthe finding my throat once again.

--

The morning came, and I awoke slowly, barely any light came through the window. The room was still glum, and velvety. A man came in holding some food and smiled at me. "Y/N. You are awake." Clearly, I wasn't looking great, since I saw mascara smeared on my fingers. But I smiled either way. "I had someone make you breakfast before you left."

"Well, that isn't what you asked unless you're willing to add more to my pay." A smirked curled my lips. I took the breakfast anyway and snarfed down every bite. James was, a rough customer. Nothing like I hadn't seen before.

"I can and will pay you every single penny I own if you're happy with being here." A slight sarcastic twinge began the sentence, but he smiled at me, watching me eat the food like it was my last meal.

I took the napkin and cleaned my face with it before pushing the tray away. James was just watching me as I got up and dressed myself again, It felt good, people would always watch me. I was like Monique Gibeau to people, a classic whore in France who 'helped' soldiers. "James?" I asked, walking up to him. He looked enamoured with me, rookie mistake.

"Yes, my dear?"

"120 dollars. Including breakfast."

He raised an eyebrow at me. The time disappeared. It suddenly meant nothing anymore. Eyes staring at each other. I fell to my knees and heard the fishnets graze against the lush floor. Why couldn't I look around? James, like the bitch he was, started to leave. "James! James please." I croaked out.

"Whores die as whores." I felt crazy, and the sweet, dark black washed over me, I couldn't think anymore, and James had left me to burn out.

Soon enough, though, I brought myself up. Confused, I looked around until my eyes went to the floor. A knife. It was a shiny knife. When I picked it up, a drop of deep red blood fell from it and I stared, holding it. Who's blood was this?! But I dropped it as someone came in. She was dressed as a maid and had scruffy hair. "Has James not yet cleaned the knife? Oh dear. Well, the sheets are clean, that's all that matters." She smiled at me, and I elicited a small chuckle as a response.

"Um, would you mind telling me what happened here? It feels like I woke up from a horrible dream.."

"He killed you. That should be obvious enough."

Could my hands shake now I was dead? Apparently, so, I felt shaky, and I sat myself on the wall by a window. Everything felt off now. Not like I had any next of kin that would feel bad for me, but, I still felt like I was hurting someone. The woman left though, not even a sorry leaving her lips. I felt like I was going to explode. I'm dead? Why? I couldn't remember anything at all.

I heard nothing in my ears, and my heart wasn't beating, but it seemed like I was breathing. Still confused and scared, I roamed my own hands over my body, no scars. No stab wounds. What the fuck was happening?! I was still wearing the short, black dress with everything else. Suddenly I felt humbled. I felt humbled by the fact that I wasted my life being a prostitute in 1938. It wasn't right but it wasn't wrong either. Wasted it, with the drugs, and the various people. Men, women, freaks. Who fucking cared.

Sobbing, I stayed in that room for hours. James soon came back in and looked down at me. Literally and figuratively. "Did you fucking call me in just to kill me?"

He hummed and that was it. "Maybe it was because I wanted you forever hm? And so I can make you a better person. You are too beautiful to be working like that."

"I'm flattered," I said flatly, taking off my heels and not making eye contact with him. "Fine, if I'm stuck here where is a spare room."

"You will stay here with me."

"Like hell, I will."

He sneered at me. "You have a roof over your head, you have food at your disposal, alcohol, cigarettes! You have everything now at your fingertips, how can you not be satisfied with that!?"

"Because you fucking killed me!!" I stood up and prodded his chest with my finger, beginning to walk out, grabbing my purse in the meantime.

I felt his eyes on me as I walked out of the room.

Time passed quicker in this hotel once you were dead it seemed. I was always roaming the halls, soliciting people for fun. I never had a thirst for blood like the others. I walked past James one evening, a tension created around us as we made eye contact. A sexual tension that I didn't feel with anyone else who thought they were high and mighty. "Y/N. Let me make everything up to you. Dinner. Tonight in my room."

I raised an eyebrow at him as I leaned against a wall. He just smiled at me confidently, Well he was cute I will give him that. "Do I have to wear my heels?"

His smile just widened. "You can wear as much or as little as you like. Steal from a guest if you want." James then quickly kissed my cheek and walked off in the opposite direction of me. I didn't mind watching him walk away, but I shook that out of my mind and made my way to another door, knocking swiftly on it.

A pretty woman opened the door and I smiled at her. "Good morning! I was wondering if I could come in and have a talk? I'm a bit lonely here.." I put on my quiet shy persona, and she just smiled warmly.

"Of course my little mouse." She truly was beautiful as she smiled, her blonde hair was in a top bun, and she was wearing a white, low-cut dress to the floor.

--

"James?"

"You look so beautiful my dear." I smiled and he held my hand as he walked me in. "The dress looks so familiar to me."

"I met with a lovely woman called Elizabeth, She has long blonde hair, and she told me she's married to you, but it's an open marriage." I just giggled and sat on a chair opposite James. He grinned and nodded.

"Of course, it was my darling Countess. She is truly wonderous. She must have smelt me on you and took you in."

"Like, your cologne?"

He nodded as the maid walked in with some plates and placed them on the table I was sitting in front of. Everything looked fit for royalty, and I couldn't see myself eating any of this. "My dear please eat this. Miss Evers made it all for you to enjoy. You deserve nothing but the best food."

The candles entranced me, and I was staring at the flames, moving and burning. Everything in this hotel made me feel like I didn't belong here. The small roast was in front of me, and it didn't feel right to take a slice. "Hummingbird why don't you take some food and eat up. You haven't eaten anything since I gave you Breakfast."

"This... James. It's so much. I haven't had this much food in front of me. Let alone a whole roast! It's... overwhelming."

James got up and kneeled next to me. His eyes were soft. He never had that look on his face before. "Oh my darling, how about I give you a small forkful, and we can go from there?" He asked, putting some food on my own plate. It felt like I was a child, but it worked. No one dared enter now, otherwise, I had to die another time. Smells flooded me. Slowly, James took a fork and put some of the food on it, reaching for me. "Come on my dear, let me help you eat." As embarrassing as it felt, he helped me eat. Eating this much wasn't normal, and I avoided James' worried gaze.

We finished our food after about 20 minutes and I smiled to myself, happy that I had eaten something. "Do you feel better now my dear?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you James." He held my hands and pulled me up gently. "I feel so tired now.." The silent tension was replaced with just a comfortable silence as he held me.

"Let's get you to your bed then hm?" I nodded in response, and he kissed me, which felt odd, but nice. A genuine kiss, not a kiss that my clients had nothing behind it.

"That sounds nice James. Thank you."

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