still not happy with the lighting in some

A Messed Up Place | Seven

Pairings: Bucky x Reader || Steve x Reader

Summary: You’ve had a little too much to drink. Shit happens.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only y’all. Unprotected sex (not a good idea), drunken shenanigans, dubious consent (explained further at the end of the chapter). I am being 200% serious, here: if you’re squeamish about anything even vaguely non-consensual, do not read this chapter.

Notes: For @hellomissmabel’s challenge. Ummmm…..sorry? Y’all gonna hate the reader even more after this one. I just…I can’t. There’s no justification for it.

AMUP Masterlist

The mission has been a success. You and Bucky have been in Kuala Lumpur for two weeks and in that time, you’ve managed to accomplish a lot of things. First and foremost, you’ve managed to decontaminate the drug load before it got distributed, using a fancy cocktail of chemicals that Stark cooked up. That had been a team effort, with Bucky doing some pretty intense seducing and sweet-talking, whilst you’d snuck into an abandoned warehouse to deal with the problem. In addition, the two of you managed to crack open a hole in Nova’s trafficking links, wheedling out some information from a low-level gang member — using no small amount of physical coercion — in order to determine the perfect location to plant a double-agent. All you need to do is get back to the compound and pass on the relevant information.

Keep reading

Unproblematic Kpop Things

Note: This isn’t giving them a pat on the back, but basically just acknowledging the good things some idols have said/done. Because, in kpop there are a lot of problematic idols and their apologist that come along with them. Things often get swept under the rug and downgraded. There’s just so much negativity in these fandoms, so here’s some positive!)

NCT-

Ten

Said this a couple of years ago on his twitter when he was still active.

Doyoung, Mark, Taeyong, and Yuta talking about their youngest member:

Look how happy he is! Also, the fact that they acknowledged his darker skin tone in a positive light is just amazing.

Seventeen-

Mingyu is considered to be the “darkest” member in Seventeen and sometimes he gets self-conscious about it because, pale skin is “ideal” in S.Korea. Honestly god bless The8 for this, he’s such a good friend.

This isn’t the first/only time they’ve complimented his skin tone

And this, it’s so kind:

Some “fans” were calling Seungkwan “fat” during this time. Luckily, his members have his back.

Teaching their youngest (Dino) not to feed into stereotypes.

Also, this:

AND I DON’T WANNA HEAR NOBODY SAY “oh, he probably doesn’t know what it means” BECAUSE THEY HAVE TWO FLUENT ENGLISH SPEAKING MEMBERS AND VERNON’S MOM SUPPORTS BLM SO SHUSH

BlackPink-

In their comeback mv for, “As If It’s Your Last” (Released in June, which is Pride Month). Fans noticed this:

*whispers* Divine Victoria reads smutty literature in bed when she’s had a long day pass it on

finally this monster is finished. i spent several days just trying to get the line art finished not because it was hard, but i was just being so painfully sluggish. and it took another couple days and lots of flopping between my old and decrepit version of photoshop, and then sai, to get the lighting tweaks correct.

there’s still some stuff i’m not perfectly satisfied with, but given that i NEVER do environments or mood lighting, i’m happy. so please enjoy this contribution of mine to the ship of our hearts TTwTT9

How to get over a heartbreak

1. Know that your heart is strong.
Breaking happens only after a lot of pressure and endurance. It wouldn’t have been able to take so much if it wasn’t strong.

2. Know that your heart will heal.
Have some faith in it. It had so much faith in you all this time even though you didn’t always make the right choices.

3. Time heals everything words cannot.
You can read this post and hundred others but what you need is time. It passes, it always does. Remember how the good times passed away?

4. You can’t get over it, you have to get through it.
It is a tunnel decorated with pictures of good times that aren’t accessible anymore. Some parts have glass shards and some have wilted flowers. You will hear echoes of laughter and loveable words but they fade away. There isn’t much light but there is light. Once you get through it, you will be able to look back and not bleed. You will be able to carry on and be happy.
5. Take your time with discarding their things. Pictures, letters, texts, gifts. It’s been a year and I still can’t do away with the letters. I don’t read them anymore but I can’t throw them out just yet. And that’s okay.

6. Don’t assume how happy they are or what kind of life it seems like they are living now. Because your Instagram may be filled with happy pictures but is your heart right now? Others are no different. Assuming will only cause you unnecessary pain and comparing will further empty your heart.

7. Your heart doesn’t need any more emptying. It needs to be filled. With your attention and care. Sign up for that yoga class. Go for that open mic. Say yes to sleeping in on Sundays and having full breakfasts.

8. Don’t talk in absolutes. Don’t say you will ‘never’ love again or will ‘never’ meet/trust someone again. Remember when you said your love was ‘forever’? Absolutes are redundant. Stop using them. Stop believing in them. Good and bad comes and goes. It’s a cycle like everything else natural.

9. Don’t bad mouth them or yourself. Don’t obsess over what you said and did and everything they didn’t. Dragging the past into your present is like tying your legs to a rock. How can you walk ahead?

10. Don’t be in a rush to forgive them. It’s okay if you aren’t ready. True forgiveness takes time. And it’s only true forgiveness that lets you genuinely move on and get out of the tunnel. Wanting to and actually being able to are two very different things.

11. Breathe.
Your lungs are functioning even though your heart may make it seem like nothing is. Run if you have to. Your legs are functioning too. Cry as much. Your cheeks and eyes won’t hate you.

—  Nikki Kaur

okay listen,,, “a little bit of light” means so much to me and absolutely should not have been cut because it’s the one song that actually paints connor (the real connor) in a decent light. 

“All those demons that wouldn’t let up, that kept dragging him through the dark.
but there were moments
he had moments
with a little bit of light
in those moments, he was happy 
he was trying still to fight
and maybe the battle he fought wasn’t won
but at least there were days when he let the light in
in those moments, a little bit of light
….

he used to love jokes! when he was a little boy? ‘why did the chicken cross the road?’ he had a million answers to that one! 

i remember picnics and little league and sundays at the zoo,
i remember how he smiled
the years of trick or treating, my spiderman, he stood at 4 foot 2
such a happy child
but it seemed like i woke up one morning and my sweet little boy he was gone
something had switched off the light 
and it seemed like it never really came back on” 

I can barely listen to this song without bursting into tears because its just so accurate in its portrayal of what its like to develop a mental illness at a young age. connor was a good kid, he was happy, and then his mental illness developed and he wasn’t the same kid anymore. this song shows that he trying, that he was able to rally through some days and still have moments where he was genuinely happy. it fleshes connor murphy out into a better character than the entire rest of the show does, and lets you in to see the type of person he was before his mental illness took over his life. he loved telling jokes!! do you know how much it means to me to know one of things his mom remembers about him the most is that he used to love telling jokes??

obviously connor had his flaws (like every single other character in the musical) but ultimately he was just a good kid struggling with mental illness who couldnt make it through, and this song screams that point 

Why We Need Stories about Dark Things

One of the things I get tired of from time to time is the perspective that if something shows evil behavior then that means the story, song, game, whatever, is inherently bad. But there is a difference between illustrating evil behavior and promoting it.

Not all appearances of bad behavior invite bad behavior.

While one purpose of storytelling is to entertain, another purpose is to teach or educate–a purpose that in today’s world, most people seem to have forgotten.

A long time ago, there used to be all sorts of horrific stories told. Open Grimms’ fairy tales, and you’ll see that Cinderella really isn’t that Disney-friendly. But often some of those older stories were meant to teach a lesson or scare children into behaving (that latter point is one I personally don’t condone). Horrific things happen in the Bible (and the Book of Mormon). We can often learn from these accounts, but some of them are simply a record of what happened (if you believe in that), whether you like the content or not. It is what it is. Conspiring incest, rape, slaughter, and even cannibalism can be found in scripture stories. In today’s world, most people have been conditioned to believe that stories are only meant to entertain. Or entertain and uplift.

Those two things are valid. But what I get tired of, though, is the perspective that all stories should be full of puppies and rainbows (yeah, that’s an exaggeration, but you know what I mean), and that’s what we should be writing, and if a story is dark, it’s “bad” or lesser or … something.

The World Needs Stories about Dark Things

It’s important we write about what I call “the big and heavies”–rape, addiction, suicide, massacre, societal brainwashing, etc. And when I say “we,” I don’t mean specifically that you or I HAVE to; I mean “we” as in us, writers and creatives everywhere. The world needs creatives who delve into the big and heavies, and here’s why:

1. Stories provide a safe means to explore and discuss dark things

The big and heavies are vital to discuss for a healthy society. We shouldn’t be turning a blind eye to dark deeds. We should be turning the right eye to them. Literature offers a safe way to explore and discuss these issues. It offers some distance (because it’s usually a work of fiction) while simultaneously having the ability to offer closeness–empathy.

Also, fiction provides a type of lens to view these behaviors through. Speculative fiction might have a more exaggerated or symbolic lens, such as the fashion industry of Panem in The Hunger Games, or the discussion of pure bloods in Harry Potter. A lens lets us view the issues in a way that may emphasize certain points or give us a new perspective on them, and again, the distance can provide a bit of a “safe” buffer for readers. We aren’t talking about racism; we’re talking about magical blood–and we can have a whole discussion on it that correlates with issues seen in racism, and no one needs to feel uncomfortable because this is about wizarding blood. Even realistic fiction provides a perspective, though less exaggerated, to see these issues through.

2. Powerful, emotional ramification drives home a point or idea or lesson.

Unlike reading text books or the news, fiction writing often works off making the audience feel something. It appeals to emotional experience, even more than intellectual experience. It is one of the only mediums where we can put on the skin and thoughts of another person.

In parts of society, we try hard to divorce intellect and emotion, but powerful emotional experiences are often what cement ideas and lessons into our minds. Back in the day, fathers used to take their children out to their property line and beat them so that the child would never forget where the property line was. We’ve seen similar conditioning with training wild animals. Both are crude examples, of course, but the emotional experience drove home the lesson. While negative emotions are powerful, this same thing can happen with strong positive emotions. We remember powerful feelings of happiness and of love, and if there are any lessons or insights associated with those, we recall those too.

In fiction, emotional experiences can drive home powerful lessons. And they stick with the audience.

Strong emotional experiences in fiction amplify the conceptual ramifications of dark deeds, and cements into the reader the weight of such behavior, in a way that pure intellect cannot. Once we “experience” an issue, we care more about it. Fiction is a vehicle that allows us to develop and fine-tune our empathetic skills, so we can better understand and relate to those who’ve dealt with such issues.

3. Explore, cognitively, the causes, consequences, and facets of the big and heavies

In the real world, we live our own lives in our own perspectives, and that’s it. In literature, you can include several perspectives of those involved with an issue. You can often see the issue’s causes, consequences, and facets to a degree you may not in your own life. You can see far-reaching effects in a matter of hundreds of pages, rather than decades or hundreds of years. This opens up new ideas, new perspectives on the topic, which leads to more discussion.

4. To provide hope and uplift, in spite of darkness. To overcome.

I sometimes see this weird idea that an uplifting story needs to not cross some invisible line too far into the dark. In some ways, that couldn’t be further from the truth. As a Harry Potter fan, I’ve had friends come up to me and talk about how they’re disappointed that the stories got darker and darker. Maybe I’m weird (okay, there’s no “maybe” about it), but I like that. I like stories getting dark. I like when they get darker and darker. I like my evil, evil. I want the Voldemort who tries to possess Harry to get Dumbledore to kill him. I want the Voldemort who tortured animals as a small child and who murdered others to split his soul into seven pieces. The world is often an evil place. And how much more powerful is it to overcome the bowels of the most wicked, than it is to overcome a guy who shoplifted? I like my evil, evil. Not because I want to be part of the dark, but because I like seeing people overcome it.

A story that includes dark materials can be just as uplifting, if not more uplifting (because of the contrast) than a story that doesn’t. The idea that a story can’t be dark and inspiring is just unfounded.

Every Christmas season, I become a fan of The Trans-Siberian Orchestra all over again. If you’ve never heard of them, you may still recognize some of their most iconic Christmas songs, some of which have gone viral on synchronized Christmas light videos.

What many people might not realize is that each of their Christmas albums actual tells, and comes with, a written story. If you see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra live, they will read the story to you bits at a time, interspersed with music. But not all their stories are about happy sleigh rides, warm fires, Christmas hams, and decorated trees. There are parents who abandoned their disabled children, babies born addicted to crack, love that has been lost. But the stories and albums are uplifting, not because the creators avoided dark subject matter, but because they illustrated the power of overcoming–overcoming difficult times and personal mistakes. It’s hard to make it through one of their performances with a dry eye through the whole thing.

5. To render reality–others’ reality or your own

But some stories aren’t necessarily meant to be about overcoming the dark or inspiring an audience. Some stories are just about reality. Human nature. The natural man. Experiences that people actually go through. Some stories are simply meant to render, often for reasons 1-3. It’s a statement. It’s meant to create social awareness, empathy. Maybe it’s meant to start a discussion. Those stories need to exist too.

Closing Thoughts

Keep in mind that many audiences only see stories strictly as mediums for entertainment and, on a subconscious level, a reinforcement of a positive, maybe even sugary, feelings and ideas. Those audiences may (on a subconscious level) refuse anything that is otherwise, and consider any mention of the dark and heavies as something that shouldn’t be there. That is their right.

And in some cases, they are correct. Some stories do not need and should not have dark content. It doesn’t serve the purpose of the story, it messes up the tone of the story, and it can ruin what was already working. You wouldn’t, for example, put in a serious plot line in The Office about Pam being legitimately raped. It doesn’t fit.

And with all that said, you shouldn’t feel forced to write content you feel very uncomfortable writing. Your work should reflect the writerly you.

Next week, I’ll talk about how to write about dark things without promoting them.

Please Watch “Orange”

Ok everyone. I’m sure some of you have probably heard of this anime, and those people who have heard of it have probably strayed away from it for the same reasons I did. 

I am a huge fan of romance anime. I’m basically addicted to anything involving love, but I was weary of this show, called “Orange,” because (1) you learn from within the first few minutes of the first episode that the love interest is going to die, (2) it looks really cliché, (3) it is not very popular, and (4) it looks sad. 

I was wrong. So very wrong. 

(1) Yes, the anime has its bleak, raw moments, but those moments were the ones that I never had anticipated that I would appreciate the most. Something that definitely became an admirable point of the anime was its very real, non-sugar-coated portrayal of depression, mental illness, suicide, and grief. This series does what most shojou romance series shy away from and actually shows the audience what depression is like through Kakeru, the fated-to-die protagonist, and the seriousness of suicide. 

As someone who has personally battled with clinical depression for years and has been to therapy and counselling, this anime hit home for me. The faking smiles, pretending everything is okay, the self-loathing, thinking you are at fault, thinking you are a burden to others, denying yourself happiness, not allowing yourself forgiveness, and the thoughts of death; they are all things that I could relate to. They even included how you can still experience moments of true happiness even if you are depressed, but how it never really goes away. Sure, this anime might not be as light-hearted as others, but it’s the heart-rending instances in this show that give it so much impact and substance. 

(2) This anime does have some clichés (i.e. cultural festival, giving chocolates on Valentines Day, new kid at school sits next to the main character), but the plot completely colors these events in ways that make them so much more meaningful and different than you have ever seen them. One of my main concerns going into this show was that I would be bored, but I ended up watching it all in one sitting simply because of how much I needed to know what would happen. Additionally, the secondary characters are wonderfully fleshed out and are actually important to the plot, instead of feeling like accessories. 

(3) I know this anime was based off of a manga (which I had once picked up on a whim, but put down once I saw how sad it was probably going to be), but I have never heard people talk about it, like ever. Even when the show came out (which it did recently), there was no buzz about it. Although the lack of chatter surrounding Orange only made me more pessimistic regarding the quality of the show, if there is anything I have learned from watching hundreds of anime, it is that sometimes good shows can fly beneath the radar. I am glad I decided to pick it up after it’s completion and give it a chance, because I just found a series that has easily earned a spot on my top 10 list. 

(4) Is this anime sad? Yes. Is it too sad to watch? No. The biggest obstacle that stood in my way for this show was the fact that it pretty much promised from the get-go to be sad. “But love is supposed to be happy and have a happy ending,” you might say, “so how can that be possible when one of the protagonists is destined to commit suicide.” I don’t want to spoil it, so all I can tell you is that I was very pleased with the conclusion and it ends much differently than you are lead to believe it will. Trust me guys. My heart is made of glass. I would not recommend this show to anyone if I didn’t think the denouement was really good

So, in conclusion, set aside a few hours one day and let this series show you its magic! 

Title: Bumps and Bruises
Character: Steve Harrington
A/n: I love this fluffy haired man and i think he deserves a lot more than the fandom gives him credit for. (yes he was an ass at first but he had fantastic development) so enjoy some fluff for the fluff boi.

You were sitting up in your bedroom, surrounded by an open box and a couple things of wires tangled nearby while you held an open instruction booklet in your hands. Your dad had surprised you with a new record player since he accidentally broke the other one when he insisted he didn’t need a handyman to fix the crack in your ceiling.

Let’s just say it didn’t end well for him or the old player.

Trouble was, you were on your own for the day and you had no idea how to set it up.

You were just about to plug in the red wire when you heard the doorbell go off.

“Mom probably forgot her wallet again.” You mumbled as you pushed yourself off the ground before heading down the stairs.

You opened your door instead to see Steve Harrington standing there with a large Coke can pressed against his one eye. His hair was all over the place and you could see the cuts on his lip and nose.

“You look awful.” You said, helping inside.

“Well you look wonderful,” He said with a smile before he grimaced in pain. “Thought I’d stop by and say hello.”

You watched him collapse onto your living room sofa. “Here, let me see it.” You told him, moving to stand in front of him.

You went to take the can but Steve moved away. “Steve Harrington, let me see.”

“No, you’re just gonna make it worse, or freak out and yell at me. He complained, shuffling around the couch as you tried to keep him still.

“Make it worse? Don’t be such a baby and give me the can.”

Steve pulled the can down and gave you a deadpanned expression. “Happy?”

Your eyes went wide at the side of the huge cut on his cheek, he had blood all over his face and some messy brusies on his hands.

You gently took the can from him and set it aside. “I’m no medical professional, but I don’t think a lukewarm Coke can is gonna solve your problem.”

You gave him a light tap on the shoulder and gestured for him to stand up. “Come on, I have a first aid kit in the bathroom upstairs,” You told him as you helped him stand. “Besides my mom had the carpet washed and if you get blood on it she’ll kill me, so.”

•~•

“Here, we have to clean you off first,” You told him, turning the bathroom lights on while you had him sit on the edge of the bathtub. “It’ll get infected if you let it go.”

Steve just hummed, only lightly flinching when the rag would graze over the cuts too harshly, to which you would apologize and try to be more gentle.

“Keep this there, I’m gonna see if we have any antibiotic stuff,” You pressed a cold cloth to his cut and placed his hand over it. “Maybe you could explain to me what happened?”

“It’s nothing.” He said, his voice quiet.

“I mean jesus, Steve. You have a huge cut on your face along with a good other number of injuries. That’s not nothing.” You told him while you placed neosporin on clean rag.

“I was just being an asshole and got punched by a kid, it started this big thing and here we are.” He told you, keeping his eyes on his hands.

“Ah, so you deserved it then?” You said with a smile, lightly bopping the end of his nose with your finger.

That caused Steve to laugh a little as he nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“Hold still now, this is gonna sting.” You warned him, slowly placing the rag over his cut.

Steve let out a low hiss as he jerked away from your hand. “Holy fuck that hurts.”

“Well I told you,” You said with a small tone of amusement in your voice at his reaction. “Stop moving so much, it won’t hurt as badly then.”

“Whatever you say, Hawkeye.” He said while you placed the rag on the cut again.

“There,” You said, removing the rag and placing a large band-aid on the cut. “That’s probably the worst of it.”

You cleaned the rest of his cuts and used the last of your band-aids on him. When you were done he looked slightly less worse than before, but he did look a little funny.

“I think you have a pretty good survival rate,” You told him with a smile as you put your things away in the kit. “I’d keep an eye on them though.”

“Hold up,” Steve said as you were about to leave the bathroom. “Aren’t you going to kiss them better?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? You want me to kiss it better?”

Steve gave you a dramatic nod like a child would.

You stepped in front of him, placing a kiss over the bandage on his cheek and nose, giving him individual kisses on the cuts on his knuckles. “Better now?”

“You forgot one.” He said cheekily, pointing to the cut on his bottom lip.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “This was your plan all along wasn’t it?”

Steve titled his head and pretended to think for a minute. “Maybe.”

“You’re such a brat.” You told him before you left a small peck on his lips.

When you pulled back Steve’s eyes were still shut then they slowly opened again. “That was a pretty lame kiss, I’ve seen you do better.”

“How would you even-?” You cut yourself off as you shook your head. “You know what don’t answer that, maybe once it heals you’ll get a proper one.”

“Promise?” Steve asked with big, puppy dog eyes as he held out his pinky.

You laughed before you wrapped your pinky around his. “Just ask me nicely.”

How to get over a heartbreak

1. Know that your heart is strong.

Breaking happens only after a lot of pressure and endurance. It wouldn’t have been able to take so much if it wasn’t strong.

2. Know that your heart will heal.
Have some faith in it. It had so much faith in you all this time even though you didn’t always make the right choices.

3. Time heals everything words cannot.
You can read this post and hundred others but what you need is time. It passes, it always does. Remember how the good times passed away?

4. You can’t get over it, you have to get through it.
It is a tunnel decorated with pictures of good times that aren’t accessible anymore. Some parts have glass shards and some have wilted flowers. You will hear echoes of laughter and loveable words but they fade away. There isn’t much light but there is light. Once you get through it, you will be able to look back and not bleed. You will be able to carry on and be happy.

5. Take your time with discarding their things. Pictures, letters, texts, gifts. It’s been a year and I still can’t do away with the letters. I don’t read them anymore but I can’t throw them out just yet. And that’s okay.

6. Don’t assume how happy they are or what kind of life it seems like they are living now. Because your Instagram may be filled with happy pictures but is your heart right now? Others are no different. Assuming will only cause you unnecessary pain and comparing will further empty your heart.

7. Your heart doesn’t need any more emptying. It needs to be filled. With your attention and care. Sign up for that yoga class. Go for that open mic. Say yes to sleeping in on Sundays and having full breakfasts.

8. Don’t talk in absolutes. Don’t say you will ‘never’ love again or will ‘never’ meet/trust someone again. Remember when you said your love was ‘forever’? Absolutes are redundant. Stop using them. Stop believing in them. Good and bad comes and goes. It’s a cycle like everything else natural.

9. Don’t bad mouth them or yourself. Don’t obsess over what you said and did and everything they didn’t. Dragging the past into your present is like tying your legs to a rock. How can you walk ahead?

10. Don’t be in a rush to forgive them. It’s okay if you aren’t ready. True forgiveness takes time. And it’s only true forgiveness that lets you genuinely move on and get out of the tunnel. Wanting to and actually being able to are two very different things.

11. Breathe.
Your lungs are functioning even though your heart may make it seem like nothing is. Run if you have to. Your legs are functioning too. Cry as much. Your cheeks and eyes won’t hate you.

The cult ending isn’t canon. It was something that had to be datamined, which means it was either content that was decided against being put in the game (thus, not canon, because they changed their minds), or it’s something for future DLC (Halloween, anyone?), which could also very well mean it isn’t canon if it is just a spooky story type DLC.

The good ending for Joseph is glitched because of one of Mary’s final interactions. You’re supposed to walk her home and talk with her. Their marriage is failing, and she’s already been cheating on him. Even if she didn’t sleep with the men she flirted with, it’s still cheating. It’s not okay. Things are all going wrong. Their marriage can’t work because neither of them are happy. They need a good ending.

On that note…Please, can we have some wholesome Joseph stuff? I wanted to play a lighthearted gay dating sim (as a gay man, it’s really fucking upsetting that I can’t even have that) and all I’m getting is hate towards this character, hate against the people who romance this character, and creepy cult shit. I just want to look at my cute boy in the way the game intended. Something light hearted, sweet, sometimes sexy. I want wholesome Joseph stuff. Can we please pull away from this toxicity?

It’s not canon, the game is glitched, we need more information before we can officially shit on this character and the people trying to date him. Can you just give a gay boi his gay boi?

Real Estate Revenge

(TL;DR at bottom)

I’ve been a real estate broker in Chicago for nearly 20 years. I started at a very small independent brokerage. It was my first week there when the broker/owner gave me a lead. He was older and wasn’t in very good health, so he passed a lot of his leads to his agents.

One of the broker’s friends passed away and the friend’s son wanted to sell the house. I call the son who tells me he’s known the broker for 30-plus years and how close their families were. He seems like a really nice guy. I go over and check out the house. I work up a gorgeous comparative market analysis. I have other brokers check my numbers (I was new and wanted to do a perfect job for my new client). I rehearse my presentation, have my stuff professionally printed, prepare for any possible questions, have responses ready for objections, and I head out.

I dazzle this guy with my presentation. He likes the $135,000 list price I recommended. He’s fine with the commission. He has no objections, but he asks me to give him 2 months to clean out the house, give his siblings a chance to go through everything and then repaint.

Keep reading

Cherry On Top

Originally posted by dailystrangerthings

Prompt: You come to this ice cream shop everytime you’re feeling down, which is often. Like a lot. AU
Rating: T
Word Count: 1008
A/N: SORTA OOC BUT WHO CARES? IT’S ICE CREAM. AND STEVE. Also, pls send requests. I’d love some about Steve


After the strange events of Hawkins, everyone craved something normal to help them cope with all the madness that was going on. And with the death of Barbara Holland and Bob Newby, something happy was also greatly needed.

The flickering lights of the sad, crummy ice cream store you worked in glared down at you as you parked your car on the employees’ spot. The sun was about to set, but some people were still inside, waiting for the sweet bliss of cold cream. Time for work.

The bell rang above the door as you entered, signaling your arrival. Your boss looked up from taking a customer’s order, then went back to the kitchen to get a few orders. Hurriedly, you ran to the kitchen as well, grabbing your apron and your name tag and putting them on hastily. Then, you walked over to the sinks, thoroughly washing your hands and making sure you looked presentable.

Pop! Cindy, one of the waitresses who were supposed to be working, leaned over the sink and scoffed at you. “You’re early today.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned around to walk away from her. She was one of the very problematic people in Hawkins. She was a  walking, bubblegum popping example of what was wrong with your school. Somehow she always found a way to get inside your business. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“It’s not like the manager actually cares,” Cindy chimed, looking up to nod over to your boss. “Anyway, you should probably get to work. Your boyfriend is waiting.”

You blushed furiously, exiting the kitchen before she could get any other words in. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you mumbled. You wished he was though.

As you emerged back into the little store, you saw him and you had to remind yourself not to swoon again.    Steve Harrington. Once the king of Hawkins High School, now the king of babysitters. Last year, he was sort of a jerk, what with having a reputation to keep and all, but after some spooky stuff happened, he seemed to have changed. Kinder, softer, you noticed. He was a regular at the ice cream store. Sometimes he was there with five other kids, sometimes he was only there with one curly haired kid with a great smile. But he came alone during certain times. You noticed that he seemed to eat more ice cream when he was alone, murmuring things to himself or looking at a picture from his pocket.

Today, he was alone. You wiped off the counter first, then you grabbed your notepad before marching up to him with a beaming smile. Steve looked up as you came closer, a soft grin on his face. His eyes didn’t match his smile, though. “Hey, Steve. The same thing today?”

“You know it, cookies and cream… as usual.” He sheepishly nodded, which was adorable in a way. You nodded back, unsure of what to say, so you awkwardly went to back behind the counter to fetch orders for other tables.

After you finished with that, you spared a glance at Steve and remembered his order. He was currently slumping down, playing with one of the straws. You thought about something for a minute, then you got an idea. “Cindy! Can you make some fries?”

You heard some groaning and cursing behind you, but then the sounds of frying got louder and you smiled. Cindy’s unreliable sometimes, but if you yell loud enough, she’ll do the work so that she could say she did something for work.

Grabbing the scooper from its resting place, you opened up the Cookies and Cream bucket and put three large scoops of it for Steve. Then, you added some chocolate sauce and some nuts, and voila! Steve’s regular order! You proudly smiled at your order, then set it on a bright red tray with the shiniest spoon you could find.

Suddenly, Cindy appeared agressively dropping the fries on the tray. “Basket of fries for your boyfriend.”

Before you could say anything, she left. Well that was rude. You smiled, though, because the fries looked perfect. You quickly smoothed down your apron and approached Steve with his order. Gently, you set it down in front of him. “Enjoy your meal!”

Steve looked at the bowl of ice cream and fries, his face brightening. “You didn’t have to, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver.”

You smiled back, ready to go back to your usual spot and just wait until he was done, but then he stood up. “Wait! Can you… can you stay for a couple minutes?”

Your eyes widened. Steve Harrington just asked if you could stay with him. Taking a quick look around the ice cream parlor, you shrugged. There wasn’t that much people anyway. Hesistantly, you sat down across from him, not knowing what to do. Do I start up a conversation? Do I talk about the weather? What the hell do I do?!

“Do you want some fries?” Steve grabbed a bottle of ketchup and put some on the side of the basket, then tossed a fry into his mouth. You smiled, at least it wasn’t awkward. You took some fries as well, savouring the salty taste. Both of you remained that way for a while, occasionally getting some fries and looking at people entering the parlor. Then, he spoke up reluctantly. “What’s your favourite movie?”

“What?” You looked up from the fries you were playing with, confused. “Oh! Um, I’d have to say… F/M. Yours?”

“To be honest, I’m a big fan of Footloose. What’s your favourite song?”

You both went back and forth for a long time, giving each other questions until eventually the bowl of ice cream melted and you two were the only ones in the store, besides a few scragglers and your boss. You laughed when you each shared embarassing childhood stories, and he hesitantly told you about the time he cried when he forgot hairspray. It was nice. Like you didn’t have to worry about anything else.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulously. “Did you seriously do that?”

Steve nodded proudly, beaming at you. “Yes, ma'am.”

“But how did you-” You started, but then your boss appeared in front of your table, coughing to get your attention. Glancing over to your clock, you suddenly panicked. You had been talking to him for over two hours. Not that you were complaining.

“Y/N, it’s time to close up shop. And since you were so busy talking to that boytoy of yours, I’ll give you the honors.” Your boss tossed you the keys, then grabbed his coat, and without waiting for your response, headed out the door. “You’re not getting paid tonight!”

You sighed, but started cleaning up. Steve appeared over your shoulder, grabbing a rag as well and starting to clean up some of the tables. Smiling in gratitude, you continued cleaning the parlor until it was spotless, all while chatting with Steve a little bit more (You may or may not have tossed sponges at each other more than once).

Finally, as you locked up the store and turned around to meet Steve’s exhausted but satisfied gaze, you laughed, rocking on your toes. “This was nice. Thanks for helping me clean up.”

“Anytime.” He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. You both stood there for a while, once again unsure about what to do. Then you stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, blushing as you did so. When you stepped back, Steve was flustered, his cheeks red as cherries.

Silence overcame the air, then he grinned, and you exhaled in relief. At least he didn’t reject you.

“Do you wanna do this again sometime?” You asked, tilting your head. “I mean you don’t have to, but it’d be-”

“I’d be happy to.” Steve blurted out, and both of you blushed. He looked across the street and so did you, seeing that the theater was still open. “In fact, why don’t we go now? May I?” Steve offered his hand to you and you laughed, but gladly took his hand.

“Let’s go.”

More Soft laurent x damen headcanons,,, THEY’RE IN LOVE: (warning: sappy)

  • Some nights damen will sit up in bed, and laurent will rest his head on his thigh while damen strokes his hair and they’ll talk for hours in that position.
  • Laurent usually tilts his head down when he’s laughing (giggling ty) but damen will tip his head up bc he likes to see how his eyes light up when he’s happy and how he flushes slightly.
  • Laurent has a sweet tooth OK!!, sometimes damen catches him eating some kind of snack and he offers damen a bite but damen smiles and shakes his head. Damen: I’d rather have a kiss. 
  • Imagine laurent sitting on damen’s lap, nuzzling into his neck and letting out the softest, most content sigh bc that’s his happy place.
  • Damen softly rubbing laurent’s lips with his finger pad and watching his eyes darken and how he gets all still and turned on.   
  • You can’t tell me that when they get married and exchange rings (or whatever they’re supposed to do i won’t judge) damen won’t grasp laurent’s hand randomly at times and look down at the ring on his finger with the most self-satisfied little grin (HE DID THAT) and kiss his palm.
  • Laurent hugging damen from behind with his cheek against his back.
  • My man damen can’t carry a single tune but sometimes laurent and him are swinging slowly as he sings some love song off-key quietly in his ear and laurent LIVES for it.
  • CUDDLES, they’re both soo into cuddling. Every morning damen unwraps his arms from around laurent and smiles when laurent lets out a drowsy protest.
  • Their banter consists of laurent commenting on damen’s size and damen replying that his cow lashes are bigger.
  • Laurent sleeps in damen’s shirt when they’re apart from each other and it hangs down to his thighs but it smells of damen and its comforting at night.
  • Also when they’re apart, they talk for hours on the phone at night. Damen: you’re about to fall asleep. We’ll talk tomorrow. Laurent: No, wait. I don’t want to hang up yet…
  • Laurent being affectionate towards damen and never ever being denied a kiss or a hug,,,, fuck me up!!!
  • Lazy kisses in bed and whispered ‘I love yous’.
  • They’re in love??? safe and happy??? forever???…. yeah
ways to make ur day a lil happier:

1: notice the small details; the feeling of the wind on your skin, the way the light dances around the room, the smell of the air
2: go outside for a few hours; leave your phone behind and experience the nature!
3: cook some healthy food; eat it outside with a glass of cold water,, you will feel fresh!
4: compliment people; their happiness will make you feel lighter
5: tell your friends you love them/appreciate them!!!!!! please it’s important!!!!!!
6: take some time out to make some art; draw, paint, make a collage…. even if it’s not good it’s still extremely therapeutic
7: remind yourself that you are human and you will have bad days and you will have good days. love yourself regardless because YOU ARE IMPORTANT

Unfaithful (Bill Skarsgård)

Based upon: Waiting up for Bill but ending up passing out on the couch. He comes home early the next morning, only to find you asleep on the couch. He slept with another woman that night, and plans on breaking the news to you in the morning.

It had been a pleasant day; work went well, plans were made for Saturday night and she had arrived home an hour earlier than usual. She would have the house to herself for the night, due to Bill’s plans with Alexander, so she decided to order in some takeout and watch a film or two. She had made him promise to be home around midnight because they had to get up early the next morning to drive to his father’s place for the day.

It was two in the morning and he was not answering his cellphone. The sky was pitch black, lit only by the street lamps and passing cars of the people still awake, and it was pouring rain.

She leant against the wooden frame of the window at the back of their apartment which looked over the water, wearing only her white slip. Her eyes watched the rain pound against the window glass before her, the droplets hitting in rough, arrhythmic beats. The weather could not have represented the difference in how she felt between twelve and two o'clock better. She fell into the foreboding, depressing haze; waiting for the impending disaster to unravel.

She took a drag of her cigarette, then blew the wisps of smoke from her lips slowly. She had finally quit smoking just over a year ago, but the feeling of the roll-up between her lips and the smoke leisurely filling up the space around her was comforting. More than anything, it gave her something to do to keep her mind off of him.

For another half hour she leaned against the window and stared at the water below while mindlessly going through cigarettes. Once she finished one she would stub it out in Bill’s dark blue ashtray and fish another out from his stash, pick up his silver lighter, light another and return her position against the window frame. This kept her busy.

The rainfall never let up once, never slowed or never quickened it seemed, it only kept the same harsh pace. She watched as the raindrops hit the glass, stuck, then began to slip down the window slowly, only to be replaced again and again. She ran a finger down the glass, which was cool under her touch, and followed the rolling drops.

Again, her gaze fixated on the powerfully lapping waves in the water below. “Bill…” She whispered absent-mindedly, not aware she had even muttered a word.

She stubbed her last cigarette and sat down on their black leather sofa. It was clear that he was not coming home, but why, she did not know. It was too much for her to process anyways; she was tired, beginning to feel disoriented and utterly exhausted after a day in the office, so she let herself collapse against the plush, supple fabric. The second her eyes closed she fell into a deep slumber.


It was five in the morning.

Bill fit his key into the lock, turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly, as to not wake his girlfriend. The fact he could even consider her in his intoxicated state was a miracle to say the least.

He shut the door and tossed his silver keys onto the kitchen counter. He rubbed his fingers against his tried eyes and pushed his hair back; he was hammered. However, the sight of his girlfriend passed out on the living room couch sobered him up immediately.

She was sleeping on her side, head laying on the arm of the sofa and body curled into a fetal position. He knew then that she had tried to stay up for him, angry of course, but still waiting to see him. It felt like he had been stabbed in the heart; she had been waiting up for him while he was fucking some other woman.

As he stepped closer to her, footsteps light as not to wake her, he noticed the pile of smoked cigarettes in his ashtray. His thoughts drifted to how happy she was when she finally stopped, how she felt free to do whatever she pleased and gloated about how she was going to live a longer life than him. He looked at the cigarettes and felt riddled with guilt; it was all his fault.

Carefully, he pulled her unconscious body into his arms and lifted her up against his chest. He began to make his way to their bedroom.

“Baby?” She asked incoherently, barely awake.

“Sh, sleep.” He told her, entering their bedroom.

She sluggishly squirmed in his arms. “I tried waiting for you.” She said drowsily.

He gave her a sad smile. “I know, Baby.” He echoed, softly setting her down on top of their light grey sheets.

She fell back asleep as he pulled the sheets over her cold body, making her subconsciously snuggle into the newly provided warmth.

He stood and discarded his clothing onto the floor then slipped into bed beside her, turning his body to face her. His eyes went glassy and he knew he would not be able to sleep; this could be the last night he spent with her.


The faint rays of the morning sun woke her at nine o'clock.

Her eyes instantly snapped open and she turned to look at the other side of the bed; no Bill. Where had he gone? Was he not coming back?

“Shit!” He said angrily from the kitchen, having had spilled freshly brewed coffee on his hand.

She sat up and hurriedly pulled on some clothes for the day, knowing that they were going to be late to Stellan’s. After dressing in black slacks and a white button up blouse, she rushed into the kitchen, pulling on her high heels as she did so.

“We’re already late. Are you ready to leave soon?” She asked, more worried about making a bad impression on his father than what happened the previous night.

When he didn’t respond she looked up and saw his uncomfortable posture.

“Bill?” She pressed.

He ran his fingers through his light brown locks and bit his lip; this was the end.

“I fucked up.”

She shook her head. “Bill, it’s fine. Look, I would have preferred you coming home when you said you would or at least giving me a call, but it’s alright.” She explained.

Nothing she said improved his expression, he still looked downtrodden.

“Bill, don’t worry. Let’s just go to your dad’s place, okay?” She pleaded lightly.

He set down his coffee mug, gripped the counter with both hands and took a deep breath. “I slept with someone.” He revealed.

She was not ready for that.

“You what?” She asked, voice venomous.

His green eyes went glassy, knowing that she would never forgive him. It was the biggest mistake of his life, he regretted it more than anything.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster.

Instantly, tears slipped from her eyes, running down her cheeks.

He expected her to yell at him, tell him how horrible he was and how she could never do what he did. He was most afraid to hear her say that she hated him.

Her reply was anything but expected.

“Why?” Her face relaxed and the word came out simply.

He held the counter tighter, “I… I don’t know.”

“You’re telling me you slept with another woman… just because?” She wondered sarcastically.

“No.”

“Then we return to my original question. Why?” She repeated, eyes growing darker with hatred.

His body, always held high, looked stiff and awkward as he stood before her. She had never seen him look less pulled together.

“I…” He went silent. “I-” He stuttered.

She strode past him, grabbing her keys from the counter and headed to the front door.

“Babe!” He called, following her down the hallway.

She did not turn to face him, she simply unlocked the door and pulled it open.

“We’re done. You better be out of here before I come back.” She spat, looking over her shoulder.

The look she gave him was unlike anything he had seen before, she had loved him and he had loved her.

“Bill!” She squealed, a smile forming on her lips.

He had pressed her back against the wall the second she shut her apartment door behind them.

She flung her keys to the counter, hearing a soft ‘cling’ as they hit the granite, and met his lips. His large hand ran through her hair, curving to fit her head.

Suddenly, he reached down and began to rid her of her wool jacket, moving on to rip off her blouse.

“There’s no need to rush.” She teased playfully, grinning up at him.

But there was.

He slipped the scarf off his neck and shrugged off his coat, letting it fall to the ground before recapturing her lips.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” He breathed, his warm breath fanning her neck; just over where he had kissed her.

He picked her up by her thighs and she slung her arms around his neck, pulling herself even closer to him. His lips hardly left hers as he took her to her bedroom, only to place her on her bed.

She slid her pants down her legs while he lifted his t-shirt over his head. Leaning back on her elbows, she watched his fingers as he unbuckled his belt, tossed it on the floor and tugged off his pants.

“And now you’re all mine.” He said deeply, lining himself up with her entrance.

He kissed her as he pushed himself inside of her, eliciting a breathy moan from her throat.

“All yours.” She promised, chest rising and falling heavily while adjusting to him.

He took her smaller hands in his large ones and pushed them further up the bed, her arms straightening as he went.

Finally, he rolled his hips against hers, causing her to clutch his hands fiercely.

“All yours.” She repeated breathlessly.

He looked down at his now girlfriend, mesmerized by how beautiful she was. He watched as she writhed with pleasure underneath him, feeling completely and wholeheartedly in love.

He needed nothing else.

It broke his heart.

After she left, Bill stood in the hallway for ten minutes, staring at the door. He could not comprehend how his world was destroyed in just a few minutes.

He wished he had never fucked the woman at the club.

Whipped…boyfriend!!! (PT4)




Y/N likes to think everything had gone back to normal after that dreadful morning. Harry hasn’t touched the subject, and he seems to be doing fine. She likes to think everything is okay, maybe he was just having an unpleasant day and there’s no point at even asking about it and upsetting him all over again. But she can’t erase the image of his body racking with sobs, eyes pleading and repentant. 

She wants to be able to get past it, but her mind keeps going back to how she’d cried silently while he was in the shower. How every minute that passed, sat alone on his couch, all she could think about was that there was a possibility that when Harry came out, he would tell her that he couldn’t anymore. He’d break her heart with words of ‘still wanna be your friend. We can still be best friends, like we were b'fo’.’ But it wouldn’t be like before.

She wants her mind to forget his gasps of ’m'sorry, love. M'so so sorry.’ But it’s like they’re forever etched into her brain. And every time she looks at his sleeping body next to her in the morning, it’s all she hears, those words.

So no, everything is back to normal in terms of appearances, but she’s been having an inner battle with herself that hasn’t let her sleep at night.

It’s been about two months or so since Harry’s breakdown. They’ve kept to their daily routine; breakfast, work, the occasional surprise lunches, and dinner among other things; but they don’t talk about it. And it’s like when she tries, Harry diverts the conversation to how thrilled he is to start Dunkirk promo, and of course Y/N can’t press the subject when Harry’s got a wide smile on his face, happy to recount and retell moments on set.

And though she still couldn’t forget about it, she’d enjoyed breaking routine, especially for the beautiful scenery that was a wedding in Hawaii. Harry had been a ray of sunshine. He had introduced Y/N to the few amounts of people that hadn’t met her yet. Some of them were interested enough to ask how Harry, a lad who didn’t often engage in proper relationships, had managed to pull such a beautiful lass. Y/N admits she’d gone a light shade of red at the comment, never one to confidently accept compliments, and Harry just wouldn’t shut up about her after that. Not until Y/N playfully slapped his arm after he’d brought up how she’d made him think she was going out with some other bloke, blatantly lying to him to his face.

He’d played about with a sweet little girl who’d taken a liking to him, boop'ing her nose and faking having tripped over something when she was chasing him, letting her tag him only for her to end up trapped in his arms. And she loved seeing him so content.

She loved the short stories everyone had to tell about a too drunk Harry who cuddled anyone from a friend, to a plant he thought was a friend. 

She can’t deny that she’d loved that he was showing her off too. Especially when his friends would make a comment about how whipped he was, which only made him smile wider as he kissed her hand (and she’d squirmed and giggled because his stubble did tickle some). 

It’s safe to say that by the end of that trip, everyone and anyone who’d watched Harry mindlessly kiss Y/N’s temple, arm slung around her shoulder whilst talking with his friends, were convinced they were it for each other. 

She had never really attended a wedding with him before either. And she realised that there was something about getting to see him in that setting that had her wanting exactly that for them one day.

So one can only imagine Y/N’s excitement when Pixie’s invitation arrived. She’d jumped at the idea of going to Spain, and being Y/N, Harry couldn’t deny her that. 

And now here they are. Watching the sun set over beautiful waters; rays of orange and yellow and blue adorning the sky. 

It doesn’t take much to convince Harry for a picture. All she really had to is smile at him and he was putty in her hands.

“Say cheese.”

“Wanna look sexy." 

"Harry! Just, show me those pearly whites." 

"Jus’ take the picture, love.” He’s adamant. 

“Harry.” Her tone monotonous, a hand at her hip like it as she glared at him, a smile playing at her lips.

“Wanna look cool, babe.” He chuckles.

She rolls her eyes, huffing jokingly and holding the phone up horizontally.

And though he’s not exactly smiling, Y/N can’t think of a better way it could’ve come out. 

***

Today is nothing short of a fairy tale for Y/N. Her arms around Harry’s necks. And Harry’s hands on her waist, swaying to none other than “Song Bird.” He takes to whispering the lyrics to her ear, and he can feel Y/N’s smile widen when she buries her head in his neck. 

Harry likes to think he’s a good dancer, even though he tries to abstain from any. But with Y/N, it’s different. He’d only halfheartedly tugged his hand back from hers when she’d tried to pull him up and off his seat, smile much too sweet to actually deny her of a slow dance. And although usually he has to have some amount of alcohol in his system to confidently show any of his moves off on the dance floor, Y/N has him spinning her around gracefully.

When the song nears the end, Harry gives her waist a squeeze before pulling away and taking her face in his hands, firmly pressing his lips to hers in hopes he could convey and express every ounce of love he was for her in that small gesture.

“Ye’ look beautiful, pet,” he whispers, lips grazing hers, pouting just the slightest for them to meet in a chaste kiss, “always look beautiful.”

“You’re too much,” she giggles, fingers wrapped around his wrists.

Harry can only press another kiss to her mouth, too drunk on love to care about anyone watching. 

***

Harry and Y/N are sat back at their table now. He’d groped at her hip and plopped her on his lap after the ninth song when Y/N began to complain about her feet hurting from walking around all day in heels. He’d moved her hair to fall over her shoulder and kissed across her back and at the exposed flesh of her neck. They stay like that for a while until he pats the side of her thigh, at which point she moves to her own seat. Silently, he gestures for her to lift her legs, and then grabs her ankles and brings her feet to lay on top of his lap. One by one he unstraps and slips off her heals and proceeds to dig his thumbs into the dip of her foot, alternating between the two. And Y/N can’t help but look at how her boyfriend’s brows furrow in concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips as he works to ease the tension in the muscles. She hums at the touch, Harry smiling in accomplishment, and squeals when he starts tickling. 

“Went from a whipped friend to a whipped boyfriend! S'a step up Harold!” Grimmy pats his friend’s back, a lopsided smirk with a clear intent to insult plastered in his face.

And it’s certainly not helping that he’s helping her strap her heels back on. But again, he doesn’t mind being whipped.

It wasn’t the first time tonite that he’d made the remark either. He’d made it a game actually. The first was while they were conversing with Lou. Grimmy had cheekily strolled past them with a smirk and whisper of ‘whipped’. The second, Y/N was at the fruit bar helping herself to a plate, and Harry kept feeding bits into her mouth as she went about picking what she wanted. He’d offered to take her plate back to the table while she reached for the cutlery, and though Grimmy might have not meant for her to hear it, she still caught the faint ‘whipped’ directed at Harry. The third had been the most embarrassing, at least for her. They had been chatting to an elderly couple, the husband retelling of a vacation he’d surprised his wife with only to find out that cruises weren’t her cup of tea when she wouldn’t come out of their suite bathroom because even though it was smooth sailing, her tummy just couldn’t handle it. At one point Harry had perfunctorily brought up their intertwined hands and pecked at Y/N’s knuckles. Grimmy had, yet again, silently walked up behind them and sing-songed ‘whi-hipped’, at which point Y/N swung her arm around, overestimating her aim, and socked him where she thought would have been his shoulder but was really his neck. Harry had doubled over in laughter at that. Even the wife whose eyes had gone wide couldn’t hold back. After that, Grimmy didn’t bother him any, only playfully shot her a glare when their eyes met.

“Nice t’ see ye’ too, ass.”

Despite his comment, Grimmy leans down to press a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I’ll take tha’ as an invitation t'sit down with m'favourite couple." 

"Grimmy’s just jealous he’s got no one to rub their feet." Was it childish that Y/N stuck her tongue out at him? Maybe so, but that’s how their friendship works.

"Oh no sweets. Even if I did m'not touching anyone’s stinky feet.” Dry humour’s always been Grimmy’s specialty.

“Ye’ really are a catch mate,” Harry jabs, taking a swig from his water bottle. 

Grimmy narrows his eyes, “s'tha’ the same outfit ye’ were wearing not even two weeks ago, 'arry?”

“Heyyyy!” Y/N chimes, scolding Grimmy with the sternest face she could pull, “s'my favourite suit of his.”

“Yeh, s'her favourite suit of mine,” Harry mocks. And they all laugh.

After that, any intention Y/N had of staying sober went out the window the second Grimmy came up with the brilliant idea of a game where they’d have to take a shot every time George kissed Pixie. 

You’d think she’d turn it down after the last time she’d gotten sloshed and the fact she’d vowed to take it easy when she did decide to drink. But Grimmy had called her a ninny because ‘s’okay if ye’ can’t handle ye’ liquor, babe.’ And even if she couldn’t, which she thinks they both know he’ll probably end up the winner, she’s certainly not gonna give him the satisfaction of not even trying.

But now, looking back at it, 6 shots in and already feeling it, Y/N really should’ve known better, should’ve thought before hastily agreeing. Of course the bride and the groom are expected to share kisses various times throughout the night at their wedding party. And it was so like Grimmy to demand they kiss every ten minutes, Harry laughing and nodding his head in amusement, or disapproval, Y/N’s not entirely sure at this point.

But she does have to admit she’s having a grand time dancing to “The Time of My Life.” Harry dancing circles around her with his arms up, mouthing along and shoulder shrugging to the beat, an immense smile on his perfect face. She throws her head back in amusement, laughing lively. 

She secretly thanks the heavens that Harry isn’t partaking in any drinking, choosing to stick to water, allowing her to use him as leverage whenever she begins to stumble. 

“Okay, think she’s had enough, Grim,” the comment comes when Grimmy tries to hand Y/N another drink, only for Harry to take it himself and set it at the edge of the round table, away from Y/N who’s got her head on his shoulder and is beginning to fully lean into him from exhaustion. 

“Oh, poo, you’re no fun.” He sticks his tongue out at his sober friend before excusing himself when it’s announced that it’s time for cake.

“Feeling a'right, pet?” His thumb rubs circles on her palm where their hands clasp atop his thigh. 

“Hmm.” Her hooded eyes open a tad slighter when she feels his lips press a kiss to her head before pressing his cheek against her hair. "Yeah. Need to use the bathroom though." 

"C'mon, then.” He takes her hand into his, careful in helping her up, his free hand at the small of her back to steady her.

“M'fine, babe.” She smoothes out the wrinkles on the skirt of her dress and grabs her purse from the table. 

“Ye’ sure? Don’ mind going with ye’." 

"I’ll be fine.” And the giggle emitting from her mouth when she pecks at his exposed chest can’t be any more endearing. He watches her walk past tables of guests, a breath of relief to see she’s good on her feet despite the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.

He sits back down, singlehandedly undoing another button on his shirt as he brings his arm to rest on the back of the chair Y/N was just sitting on. 

And then…

Harry never thought he’d be seeing her face again. It took him a while to control his paranoia, his hyperactive mind conjuring up what he thought to be every possible scenario in which Y/N finds out about what he did. But not this one. 

It catches him completely off guard, his body stiffening at the sight. What throws him off even more is when she spots him and begins making her way to him.

The closer she gets, the farther he wants to get away. 

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” Her voice sends shivers down his spine. She’s looking at him with…desire? It’s all unappealing if he’s being honest. It feels like she’s trying to lure him in, the way her eyebrow is raised, eyes a bit squinty as she struts closer. He’s making it clear he’s uncomfortable, and if she realizes this, she doesn’t show it, and it doesn’t halt her either.

How was he to know she was a childhood friend of the groom? He’d never seen her at gatherings before that unfaithful night, but in retrospect, he too is guilty of going an endless amount of time without talking to his childhood friends. Harry thinks this is the universe’s way of punishing him for not coming clean. 

His brows furrow in concern. Y/N will be back any second and he’s sure she’ll ask who this woman standing before him is. And it could go one of two ways. 

Harry can introduce her as a friend, but that’d be betraying Y/N on a whole other level. Introducing the woman he slept with to his girlfriend. But he can’t do that. He won’t.

Or. Or what if this woman has the audacity to bring it up. What if Y/N finds out in the worst way possible. 

His hands are sweating in his pockets, body tense. 

“Left so early that morning. Didn’t even stay for breakfast.” The smug look on her face has Harry’s tummy twisting, and he really wants to slap her hand away the second her fingers make contact with the fabric of his suit, fingers running over at the lapel.

And he should stop her right there, but his throat is dry and he’s afraid the second he opens it to add how much of a mistake it was and that he has a girlfriend, is the moment Y/N over hears the conversation.

“You’re a good fuck, you know. Best I’ve ever had." 

He knows she’s trying to get a response out of him, anything that might assure her that he’d had a good time too. 

But he’s not able to get anything out when he notices her stare trail behind him.

"Harry.” Her voice just above a whisper, the sound of heels clicking against the ground growing closer.

No. No no no no. 

{ Sweet Blood ;; Unknown x Custom MC }

Happy Halloween everyone!

I originally wanted to post this yesterday evening but Tumblr was acting up again so I’m uploading it now instead. Here in Europe it’s already the 31st but for some of you it might still be the 30th, I think? Oh well, close enough!

About this picture, I actually really like how it turned out. This is probably my best attempt at drawing Saeran thus far and I love how his face looks. I also tried experimenting with some darker colors + highlights because my usual light and pastel-ish style wouldn’t really fit the theme.

Please do not repost this anywhere without my permission! Thank you!