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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Note

I had this though on a cute little one shot for Alastor x chubby reader in the hotel I was wondering if you would like to run with it? Where the reader gets some nail varnish that matches their lip color without thinking about it. Alastor becomes rather fond of them wearing the color and eventually it vanishes after Angel points out that it’s almost the exact same color as the reader’s lips.

The reader ends up pouting a bit over it because they can’t find it anywhere in stores anymore. They ask Angel if they borrowed it to Angel’s confusioned response to the tune of “why the fuck would I want to wear your lip color?” And it gets to the point they ask for Nifty’s help finding it while Alastor is trying to avoid the topic entirely. Eventually Nifty DOES find it in the radio tower much to Alastor’s flustered frustration.

A/N oh hell yes i can do this. 11/10. Also I am skipping the fuck around in my request order, I am so nervous about posting cover up pt 4. I promise it will come out soon.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Gn!Chubby!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Uhhh I got a little suggestive with this one guys. Sorry. Also,, Alastor is a little creepy and stalkery and has a thing about hands. This one just came out all around weird. Also, I named it after my favorite lip and nail polish matching combo so don't judge the fic by its name. Also Alastor sexualizes the reader a bit. Let me know if I missed anything. (guys i really have no idea what happened with this one, i am so sorry. I hope you still like it.) Also,, Alastor is for sure ooc.

Word Count: 3,675

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"Is that a new color?"

Alastor's ears perked up. He didn't turn to face the source of the sound but he listened. There was only one person in the hotel Angel would direct such a question towards after all.

"Yeah. It's essie, Berry Naughty is the name I think? Nail polish and makeup products always get called the silliest things. Do you like it?"

Y/n was the Hazbin Hotel's newest resident. They had arrived just a few weeks before, brought into the fold by Angel himself. The pair were old friends apparently, knew each other from back when they were alive.

"Yeah, it suits you. A lot more than that blue you used to wear."

There were three things the pair could be discussing in Alastor's mind. The first was Y/n's clothing. They were always dressed to the nines, decked out in some crazy ensemble or another.

At first, it had seemed foolish to Alastor. Anyone who cared that much about what they looked like had no shot at being an enjoyable person in his mind. That was before he had started to get to know the demon, seen the joy it brought them to indulge in fashion, realized the things they wore were for them and them alone. Everything had changed with that. It wasn't about persuasion, getting attention, facade. It was just who they were.

The thing about this first theory, however, was that Y/n almost never wore blue.

"Hey!" Y/n laughed, sounding a tad offended, "I liked the blue and I still might go back to it."

The second option was lipstick. Another little hobby the demon indulged in that had caused Alastor to misjudge their character upon their arrival was the makeup. Every few days, they would come down from their room in one crazy look or another. It was always something dramatic, coordinated perfectly to whatever else they had going on. If Y/n loved anything, they loved a theme.

Alastor had again made the mistake of assuming Y/n's enjoyment of such a thing was a representation of their vapidness when he had first met them. He would not be making that mistake again. The thing was, for all their wild self expression and experimental use of colors, he had never once see them sporting blue lipstick, he couldn't even picture it.

"What! I'm just sayin." Angel teased.

The third and final option, the one Alastor decided was what they must be discussing, was their nail polish. Y/n loved the act of painting nails, called it a ritual of self adoration. The way they talked about it, someone would think they were dedicating sacrifices at an alter to the gods. Every week, like clockwork, they would repaint them. Monday afternoons, four o'clock sharp. Their favorite color of late had indeed been a dark, almost black, blue. Alastor had liked it. The color had made something about their hands shine.

"Rude." Y/n scoffed in reply.

Alastor had always loved Y/n's hands. He had always had a thing about hands. In his opinion, hands were the most telling part of a person, or demon even. They showed nerves, experience, hard work -- went straight through to the core of who a person was. A carpenter's hands were rough, a cook's were scarred, an artists stained with color, a string musician's had calluses on the fingertips. Yes, a lot about a person could be learned from their hands.

Y/n's hands were soft, on the smaller side, and without the bony protrusions of their knuckles so many people seemed to admire now days. Alastor had never understood the desirability of skeletal thinness. It was impractical and uncomfortable. Y/n's hands suited them perfectly, Alastor thought. They were his favorite pair of hands to watch, the way they would flit across the keys of a piano, the way they kneaded the dough when she baked, the way they held a pen.

"I mean, it does match your lipstick now which is kinda a look."

At this, Alastor really did turn around. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n and Angel were lounging on the couches of the hotel lobby. They were dressed down, wearing a pair of jeans that hugged their legs and a crop top that accentuated their body perfectly. They looked soft, they looked comfortable, they looked delicious.

The idea of hunger was a complicated one. When Alastor thought of other demons as delicious looking, it was because he wanted to eat them, to consume their flesh that is. Y/n was certainly delicious but, he had no desire to eat them. Not like that, at any rate.

Angel had been right, Alastor could see it from across the room. The soft ruddy red of their nail varnish matched the gloss coating their lips perfectly. Alastor had always loved the color red.

"Wait, really?" Y/n asked, holding a hand up to their face, by their mouth, their nails turned out towards Angel, "Is it bad?"

"Nah, it's honestly kinda a look."

Y/n hummed, moving their hand from their face and staring intently at their nails.

"Maybe it'll be my new color then... This is the gloss I wear when I'm just doing normal makeup."

"Cohesion is key." Angel noted, "If you have a look to fall back on, people tend to like that in my experience."

Y/n stayed true to their word and Alastor relished in this revelation. Over the course of the next week, nearly every time he spotted them around the hotel, they were wearing that same combination of nail polish and lipstick. It was a secret indulgence of his, a treasure.

They nearly caught him staring one time as they were talking with him. It was nothing special, just one of their average, casual chats about the ethics of one situation or another. For someone who had ended up in Hell, Y/n had a soft spot for moral philosophy. It was clearly spill over from some preoccupation of their mortal self.

Mid conversation, he had drifted off. He hadn't meant to, it was the way they talked. Y/n was an animated conversationalist, always moving their hands to accentuate their words in one way or another. It drew his eyes to their hands and their face equally, their nails and their pretty, dark red lips.

"Hey, Alastor... Alastor!"

"Yes, my dear?" he had quickly replied, snapping out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"You just kinda... trailed off there."

Alastor tried his best to push his embarrassment to the side, to shake it off his shoulders seamlessly. Miraculously, he succeeded. He wasn't quite sure how, when they were watching him with such concern filling their eyes, a slight pout to their lips.

"Just a little distracted. Lots to do today. My apologies, my dear."

"And here I thought you loved deontological thought." Y/n had teased.

Everything was fine. Alastor didn't mind Angel having noticed, it was a well known fact the spider demon saw Y/n as a sibling rather than a potential partner. The pair had grown up together and when Sir Pentious, one night, had asked whether or not they had ever messed around with each other, seeing how close they were and comfortable with physical contact, the pair had made eye contact before each putting on their own display of disgust.

Alastor was good at seeing through people, he knew it hadn't been a show. What was a problem was when Husk somehow noticed the pairing of their lip and nail color as well.

Alastor had been talking to Charlie about one thing or another as Y/n shared a drink with Sir Pentious at the bar. He was half listening to Charlie, half to their conversation. Alastor always kept an ear out for Y/n's saccharine tones.

The pair had been chatting about how their respective journeys to redemption were going when Husk had cut in.

"Did you match your nail color to your lipstick?" he asked in mild amazement.

Alastor bristled. That fact was his, was for him. No one else was allowed to see.

"Yeah!" he heard Y/n brightly reply, a tinge of pride to their voice.

Though Alastor's back was to them, he could picture the way they must be holding their delicate, gentle hands up now.

"Isn't it cute?"

Husk whistled.

"Damn, Angel is finally rubbing off on you."

"I mean, I guess." came Y/n's hesitant reply.

"You trying to catch someone's attention?"

Alastor could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that proceeded their reply.

"I mean, not on purpose. Not with this. I just like the way it looks... I don't know, it makes me feel... pretty."

Y/n was right. Alastor knew for a fact, had seen it with his own eyes, how irresistible the combination made them look. Now others were starting to notice it as well and, well, Alastor couldn't have that, now could he.

The next morning, when Alastor came down for breakfast, he noticed Y/n sitting at the table, looking uncharacteristically despondent. His back to them as he began to prepare his morning cup of coffee, he smiled.

"What's got you down, my dear?" he asked and Y/n sighed.

"My nail polish disappeared."

So, they had already noticed. Alastor picked the carton of milk up off the counter.

"Don't you have others? You're always a veritable rainbow of color!"

Alastor kept his voice light and cheery. His coffee made, he took a seat at the table across from them.

"Yeah, I guess. I just liked that one. It matched my favorite lipstick."

"Couldn't you try another color? That midnight blue last week was rather nice."

"Yeah, I guess." suddenly, their eyes shot up to his, a smile breaking out across their face, "Wait, Al! You're a genius! I'll just go buy another bottle!"

When Y/n returned from the store a few hours later, their gray cloud had returned.

"Are you alright?" Vaggie asked as they slumped onto the couch beside her.

Alastor couldn't help but note, from his hiding place, the way the act of sitting changed their body. They were beautiful standing, stunning even, but something about the way their thighs spread out over the surface of the couch...

"Yeah." Y/n grumbled, "Just... bummed."

"Oh no!" Charlie exclaimed, walking away from the bulletin board she was planning their next lesson on and joining the pair, "What happened?"

"It's stupid." Y/n groaned, throwing their head back.

"Wrong guy hit on you?" Angel teased and they immediately righted themselves, shooting him a glare.

"No." they pointedly replied, "Just... that nail polish? Berry Naughty or whatever its called? The one that matched my Spicy Sienna gloss?"

"Damn, you're pulling out the color names." Angel laughed, "Yeah, I know. What about it?"

"I can't find my bottle anywhere and I went to like seven different stores today and none of them had it! Not one! You didn't borrow it, did'ya Ant?"

Angel put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Who, me?"

Y/n rolled their eyes.

"Nah." he waved them off, "You know I always ask before I borrow. I learned that lesson about you the hard way."

Y/n sighed despondently again.

"I'm sorry." Charlie hummed, patting Y/n's knee comfortingly, "I know it was making you really happy."

"It's silly." they shook their head, "It's just nail polish."

"Yeah but, it clearly brought you a lot of joy." Charlie insisted, "What if I ask Nifty to keep an eye out for it around the hotel?"

Alastor almost let the shadows hiding him from the group in the corner of the room dissolve in shock. He hadn't expected that. He had really thought everyone would just let it go. Yes, he knew Y/n would probably be upset about it for a few days but, that just gave him all the more of an excuse to be near them, to comfort them.

"Really Charlie?" Y/n brightened immediately, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! I mean, I'm not making any promises but, you know."

Y/n pulled themselves from the couch, throwing their arms around Charlie's neck.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's just a nail polish." Vaggie chuckled, watching the interaction warmly.

Y/n let go of Charlie, who shrugged back at her girlfriend.

"It makes them happy."

Two weeks had gone by with no sign of the bottle of nail polish. Y/n still went to the stores every few days, checking for the color, but had yet to have any luck. Nifty too had come up empty handed.

Alastor was very pleased with himself. The trick of using his shadows to empty every store in the surrounding area of the color before Y/n went shopping was something he was particularly proud of.

Of course, all along, he knew where the missing item was. It was in the top drawer of his night table on the right hand side of his bed. Nifty only went in to clean his room maybe once a month or so and she knew better than to snoop. It was all going off without a hitch, even the comforting aspect. Alastor had had the absolute pleasure and honor of showing up at just the right place, at just the right time (imagine that), so as to be included with Angel when Y/n had the bright idea to see if she could find any other matching colors between her vast collection of lipsticks and lipglosses and even larger collection of nail polish. He wasn't sure how their hands could sustain that much acetone, or their skin that much makeup remover, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Alastor was in his studio, fixing one of the control panels, his mind filled with spinning memories of the past couple days (Y/n had even hugged him! The feeling of the cushion of their waist against his arms, their stomach, was not one he would soon forget), when he heard a knock at the door. He straightened up, eyeing it suspiciously.

The guests of the Hazbin Hotel, as well as its staff, knew better than to disturb him while he was at work. It's owners, on the other hand, were much more foolhardy. He ran a hand over his hair, straightening it a bit so as to make himself presentable, and called for the knocker to enter.

The door creaked as it swung open, just like Alastor wanted it to. A creaky door was a good thing, it made sure most people couldn't sneak up on him when he was at his most vulnerable, most distracted.

"You'll want to grease that." Y/n hummed as they stepped into the dingy space, "I think we have some WD40 in the basement, if you want me to bring it up for you."

They had never come to visit him up here before, never dared even come near the rotting wooden door. Alastor walked forward, shutting the door behind Y/n now that they were fully in the room. He was close enough to feel their breath on his skin as he smiled down at them.

"No need, my dear, although, I do appreciate the offer."

A silence fell between the pair as Y/n took a few steps further into the room, their eyes running across every surface available before them. Alastor noticed their hands were clasped behind their back. It wasn't an unusual position for them but, something seemed different about it this time.

"What can I help you with?" he cordially asked and Y/n turned to face him.

"Well... I... um..." they locked eyes with Alastor, finding their words at last, "Nifty found something today. While she was cleaning."

Alastor was glad Y/n's demon form was not all that powerful in this moment. If it was, they would have heard his heartbeat spike. His voice, his demeanor, even his expression were easy to control but his heart? Not so much.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I..." Y/n trailed off.

With a sigh, they brought their hands forward, opening them to reveal the source of Alastor's anxiety. Nestled there, in the softness of their palm, was the nail polish.

"She found it! Congratulations, my dear. You must be thrilled."

"Yeah." Y/n replied uncertainly, looking away.

Alastor knew why they were so uncomfortable, but his hope was stronger. There was an uncanny sense of optimism in him, one that was unfounded and unfamiliar. It drove him to pry, to see how much they really knew. For all Alastor knew, there could be something else entirely going on.

"Where was it?"

"I..." Y/n looked back at him once again, "That's the problem, Alastor. Nifty said... well, she said she found it in your room."

"In my room?" Alastor repeated, feigning confusion, a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Y/n nodded.

"In your night table drawer."

They must have known him better than he thought, have seen the flash of sudden anger in his eyes or something like that, maybe he had tense his body. Whatever had ticked them off, they continued.

"She didn't open it. Nift said it was open and went to close it and just... spotted it in there so don't get mad at her, she didn't do anything wrong."

Alastor stood in silence, watching Y/n carefully.

"I just... Look, I'm not mad, I am just confused. Why was it in your room, did you take it from me?"

A shock of nerves fluttered in Alastor's stomach. The heat rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, a hand flying instinctually to his collar and tugging at it just the slightest bit, as if the room was too hot. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

"Why?"

Alastor turned back to Y/n and nearly stumbled back a few steps when he realized how much closer they had brought themselves to him. Nearly every other time, he was the one to bridge the distance, to step into their personal space. His breath caught in his throat, a sort of thrill flooding his mind.

"I... I..."

He had stuttered. Alastor didn't stutter. He had never stuttered, not even when he was alive.

"You..?" Y/n prompted, leaning forward slightly.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't tell if that was their goal, secretly, if they had finally realized the effect they had on him and begun to use it to their advantage. Alastor looked away again.

"It was..."

"You knew it was my favorite. Why did you take it?"

Fuck.

They were upset, maybe even angry. Alastor had seen them mad before but it had never been directed towards him. Normally, he would relish in the wrath of another but Y/n's wrath? Fuck. He realized right then and there, he would rather die.

"Husk." he admitted at last, his hands now fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, his face flushed.

Alastor dared a glance at Y/n. Their brow was furrowed.

"Husk?"

"Yeah. Husk."

"I... why Husk? Did he dare you? Did he... I... what?"

Whatever feelings they had previously held had been replaced by pure confusion. Alastor could handle confusion. The situation at large was still unwelcome and rather untenable but, at least there was the confusion.

"He..." Alastor cleared his throat, brave enough to meet their eyes again at last, "He noticed."

"Noticed.... oh."

"Yeah."

They fell silent. This wasn't a thing Alastor had felt since he was very young. There was a wild animal in his chest. In this moment, he didn't just look like a deer, he was one and Y/n was the hunter with their gun trained on the spot between his eyes.

"It wa-"

"Did you also take it off the shelves all over the neighborhood?"

They had always been smart, smarter than he gave them credit for. Alastor grimaced, nodding slowly.

"Alastor, why did it bother you so much? Is it illegal to match my nails to my lips? Does it go against your... your weird ass deontological code?"

"No, it's just... it was... fuck!"

Y/n had never heard him curse before. A hand flew to Alastor's head, he took a deep breath.

"Alastor, I-"

"It was for me, okay? I... I didn't want anyone else noticing. It was just for me."

Y/n looked somehow even more confused as he lowered his hand once again. The releif that had accompanied the admission was greatly outweighed by his anxiety as he waited for their response.

"But Angel noticed too? Before Husk?"

"That's different." Alastor sighed, "He... You... I..."

"Alastor, what's going on?"

There was concern now, lacing their voice in its gentle vines. It almost made everything worse.

"I like you, okay!? There. Are you happy now!?"

He didn't know why he was yelling. Y/n's eyes went wide.

"You... like me? Like, like like me?"

He glared at them and they put their hands up in surrender.

"Just trying to clarify the situation!"

Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Yes. I... like like you or... whatever nonsense you just said. Are you happy now?"

It was a stand off, each training a metaphorical pistol at the other. Y/n was the one to finally break.

"Yes." they curtly replied, crossing their arms to mirror his position, "I'll... I'll let you get back to work now."

Someone had driven a nail right through Alastor's chest and into his heart. He watched their retreating form as they opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Just as it was about to fall shut, they miraculously stuck a foot between the closing door and its frame, peeking their head back into the room.

"Just so you know: if you asked me out on a date," they began, their eyes flicking up to his from where they had previously been fixed on the floor, "I'd say yes."

-----

A/N Ant is a pretty common nickname for Anthony in NYC (where I am from and where I'm pretty sure Angel is supposed to be from). Yes, I will be using it in another fic I am working on too (its part two of Unexpected (Vox x Reader). Also,, deontology is when you have a strict set of ethical rules/maxims you stick by no matter what (Kant is a deontologist).

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

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hotgirlbedtimescenarios · 8 months

Text

The Beginning: Chapter 1

Javier Peña x f!reader / (2,849)

Summary: Fresh out of college, you just moved to Austin, Texas, and are starting fresh. It's Friday night, so you take yourself out to the bar for a quiet dinner and drink but end up blushing under the gaze of the gorgeous older man you meet.

Notes: This is my first ever fanfic, so go easy on me! Im not sure how long this series will be or the direction it will take, besides smutty ;). Please let me know what you guys are interested in or what you'd like to see so I can create the fantasies you girlies are dying to have come to life.

Disclaimers: This series is for adults over the age of 18.

It's your first Friday night after moving to Texas the week before. Your apartment is finally clear of cardboard boxes and miscellaneous piles of your belongings crammed into corners or atop every available bit of counter space.

The move was exciting and stressful following the whirlwind of a month you had prior. Graduating college, landing your first job hundreds of miles away, and saying goodbye to friends and family has kept you busy for so long. Now, you find yourself settled and alone in a new city which is why you decided to take yourself on a much-needed self-care date night.

You had been holed up in the apartment all week unpacking, ordering takeout, and wondering how the hell you were going to create a life here in Austin where you know a total of zero people.

Tonight, instead of feeling sorry for yourself you decided to explore your new city and act like the adult you are trying to become. You brush your hair and wear it down along with a light dusting of makeup. Just enough to make you feel like you got ready but nothing major. You throw on your favorite skirt and tank top combo then slide into some shoes and head out the door.

Summer in Austin is in full swing, even at 8 p.m. with the sun down and the breeze blowing, your skin is flush from walking a few blocks through downtown to the cozy dinner spot you scouted earlier in the week.

The restaurant is bathed in cozy dim lighting from the warm string lights overhead and Edison bulb fixtures found in every other trendy spot downtown. It's just the vibe you were going for, perfect for sitting alone at the bar with a book, a few apps, and a strong drink to ride out the night which is exactly what you do.

You cross the restaurant and reach the bar at the back wall, offering a smile to the bartender who greets you and tells you to sit wherever you like. You choose the left most barstool and sit down to empty the contents of your slouchy, knit tote bag you had slung across your shoulder. You place your book and cell phone onto the dark mahogany countertop and relax into the chair.

“What can I get for you tonight?” the bartender asks. “Dinner or drinks?”

“Espresso martini and a menu please”

“You got it”

Several minutes later with your drink placed before you and your order of garlic parmesan french-fries and sliders on the way, you take in your surroundings. It's dim, and cozy, and the restaurant is busy but it's mostly groups of what looks like college students who occupy big tables or couples out for date night. You don’t mind being here alone though, it will be nice to have a night to dive into your delicious romance novel in the corner with no one to bother you. Speaking of, you turn back to your book and crack it open as you take a sip of your martini. You aren’t sure how much time passes, but your food arrives and you thank the bartender who promises you a second martini is on the way before you even have to ask.

“You read my mind,” you say, and he chuckles as he walks away. You dig into your sliders which are greasy and indulgent, exactly what you wanted. You turn your attention to your fries and pick at them as you pick your book back up and focus on the story once again. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a figure moving towards the bar and when you look up you can't help but stare.

Walking in your direction is a tan-skinned man with dark hair sweeping to the side with a few stray stands falling down the front of his forehead towards his eyes. He walks slowly and swaggering, the sway of his hips telling you exactly how confident he is. Dressed in dark tight-fitting jeans, a blue button-up shirt, and a black leather jacket, the man looks a bit brooding and serious as he sits 4 barstools to your right. Before you get caught staring you tear your eyes away from the man who, admittedly is very handsome despite being at least 20 years older than you.

You force your eyes back to your book, but you aren’t reading a word because you are too aware of the stranger sitting a couple of feet away from you. You hear him order a whiskey and you sneer, the last time you had whiskey was at your graduation party which ended up giving you the most outrageous hangover of your life.

“What’s wrong with whiskey?” you hear a gruff, deep voice ask in your direction.

You startle and look up at the stranger “Uh.. what?”

He turns his head in your direction “The look on your face. You seem offended by my drink of choice.” His eyes are big brown and dark but seem to sparkle despite the tension on his face. His jawline is strongly defined, and he has a masculine nose with a thick dark mustache perched atop full pouty lips.

Your face flushes when you snap back to reality and realize he is still staring straight at you waiting for a response. “Oh, you saw that?” you say embarrassingly, damn your inability to keep your facial expressions to yourself. “Whiskey reminds me of a few messy moments if I'm being honest”.

“Huh” he chuckles, “it seems to help me forget about mine.” His gruff words brought darkness to his eyes and creased lines into his forehead.

Before you have a chance to even think about that convoluted response the bartender returns with both your drink and the handsome stranger's whiskey on ice. “Any food for you tonight sir?”

“Are those any good?” he asks, turning to you and nodding towards the fries, catching you off guard yet again.

“Oh yeah, pretty fucking good” The words come out faster and easier than you thought they would. Under the weight of the man's gaze, you would usually be a bit shy, but your martinis have given you just enough liquid courage to set your anxieties aside.

“Some fries and another whiskey when they come out,” he orders and sits back in his chair. The waiter leaves and now it's just you and the stranger. “I’m Javier by the way.”

You tell him your name but after that, no other words pass between you. Eventually, you move your focus back to your book as the stranger drinks and picks at his fries that finally come.

By now, you are a couple of chapters deep, nursing your third espresso martini, and internally squealing at the sexual tension between the main characters in the book you're reading. You live for that tension and desire that frankly; you haven’t had in a long time. Dating in college consisted of a few flings here and there but nothing substantial and certainly nothing as delicious as what your favorite romance characters get to experience.

“That must be good,” Javier says to you with a smirk on his face. His eyes glanced from the blush on your cheeks to the book in your hands.

Your face goes red hot, and you meet his eyes. Your lips part, trying to come up with something to excuse your flustered look, but you know from the smirk on his face that you’ve been caught red-handed reading smut at the bar. You are about to drown in embarrassment but instead, you decide to feign unconcern and quip back, “A hell of a lot better than any real man has been.”

“Oh,” he says taken aback by your brazenness “, that’s a real shame. A pretty girl like you deserves the best.” His big brown eyes roam down your body and drink in the sight of you. He pauses ever so slightly at the hem of your skirt and when his eyes rise again to meet yours in challenge, they seem a bit darker than before.

Internally you are screaming, why the hell would you say that to a man you don’t even know? How do you even navigate this conversation when you are pretty sure has taken a very sharp turn into flirtatious territory?

Your brain is scrambling to come up with a solution to abort the mission but then you pause. You are an adult woman out in her new city, flirting with the hottest older man you’ve ever seen, and he seems interested in you. Why should you end things when you could pursue some romance of your own instead of living vicariously through your books? And hell, Austin is huge, you probably won't ever see this guy again after tonight so you might as well have a little fun.

You settle into your decision then meet his eyes with your own smirk and ask “And where can I find the best, Javier?”

The second his name leaves your mouth, you sense the change in mood, it's game on. The corner of his mouth turns up into a smile, and he rises from his barstool to stalk towards you. His eyes don’t leave yours as he takes the seat directly next to your and responds, “You’re looking at him.”

Your blood heats and nerves twist in your stomach. You’ve never met someone so straightforward but god it’s exciting. “You sound a bit cocky if you ask me.” You tease and lean forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

Before Javier can respond the bartender comes back and clears his throat, noticing the air around the two of you. You straighten up in an attempt to hide your flirting and look forward as the bartender lets you know that the restaurant is closing and he is about to bring the cheques.

“Add her to mine,” Javier says and hands the bartender his card before you have a chance to interject. The bartender rolls his eyes and lets out a huff but does as he is instructed. Weird, you think to yourself. Maybe he’s just annoyed because he has to redo the cheques. You don’t give it any more thought because your mind is a bit warm and fuzzy thanks to the handful of drinks you’ve had tonight.

Surprised, you thank Javier and excuse yourself to the bathroom while he waits to close out. When you return, Javier and the bartender are having an exchange that you can't quite hear. Whatever it is, both of their faces are plastered with scowls. When you reach the bar, Javier is staring down the bartender, his eyes dark and jaw clenched “None of your business” he says to the man and then he stalks outside to wait for you on the sidewalk.

You glance back at the bartender and ask, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just be careful.” He huffs, then walks away, leaving you alone.

Confused, you pack your things back into your totebag and make your way outside to meet Javier. When you step out and see him on the sidewalk, his brows are knit, and his fists are clenched. You even see a muscle tick in his jaw before he turns to look at you.

“What's wrong?” you ask, taking a worried step toward him.

He stands straight, keeping his distance, and says,” Apparently, I’m taking advantage of you” he spits out.

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” you balk.

He nods his head toward the restaurant. “I'm sorry if you feel that way.” Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, “I guess I got carried away.”

“Well, in case you didn’t notice, I'm old enough to make decisions for myself and everyone else can mind their own damn business.”

His eyes meet yours again, but you can see that the fire behind them is gone, and instead, they are empty. “Listen, sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, sweetheart. I enjoyed meeting you, though.”

Annoyed at the turn of events, you respond, “So that’s it? What happened to me deserving the best?”

He lets out a sigh “You do, but I’m far from it.” He says darkly.

You can feel the wall Javier is stacking up between the two of you. The flirtation is gone, and the night you were beginning to look forward to was slipping away. “Well, it was nice to meet you anyways, have a good night.” you clip and turn away to walk home.

Before you make it too far, you hear Javier walking behind you, so you stop and turn around. “You don’t want to talk to me anymore, but you’ll stalk me through the streets?” you slur at him a bit rudely.

He walks right up to you frowning and says, “I’ll at least walk a drunk girl home late at night. I might be an asshole, but I'm not stupid.”

“I’m not drunk,” you scoff, crossing your arms and starting to walk away again.

Like before, you hear him trailing behind “Maybe not drunk, but definitely tipsy.”

You give up on trying to get rid of Javier and let him catch up to you. You spend the 15-minute walk home together mostly in silence, but he does ask a few questions. You tell him you're new to Austin, how you got there, and why. You try to ask him a few questions as well, but he is a lot less forthcoming with information. Eventually, you make it to the entrance to your apartment budling, and you stop mid-stride.

He pauses, “This is where you live?”

You nod, waiting for him to turn and leave, but he doesn’t. “Are you waiting for me to invite you up? I thought you weren’t interested anymore?” You say.

“Never said that,” he grumbles “But no, that’s not what I'm waiting for. I'm making sure you get inside, and then I'm gone,” he says coldly.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, you know. I can do that just fine myself. In fact, I was fine on my own tonight before you played hot and cold.”

You can't help but be annoyed with the blatant rejection from this man you just met tonight. You didn’t go out with hopes of meeting someone to bring home for the night, but when the handsome velvet-voiced man sat beside you, you were instantly captivated. Not to mention when he started flirting with you, which had your cheeks blushing and your stomach full of butterflies. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd decided to spend the night with him, but then he changed his mind at the drop of a hat.

Your words struck him somewhere deep “Listen honey, I’m sorry about that, but you don’t want this, you don’t want me.” He said with a pained but stern voice.

“And what if I do? Just for one night?” you say, looking up at him, pleading.

“Then you'd be wrong.” He says, then clenches his jaw and begins to walk away.

You watch him continue down the street for a few steps before turning to walk inside your apartment building's first floor and to the elevator. You're still thinking about the gravel in his voice and the way it had you hanging on to every last word back at the bar when you finally make it to the door of your third-floor apartment.

You search for the keys in your tote bag and let out a sigh when you hear the door unlock and push inside. Kicking off your shoes and locking the door behind you, you shuffle through the living room and into the bedroom.

Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, you see that it’s just shy of 11. Now that you're home and the excitement of the night is disappointingly over, you can feel the tiredness creeping up on you. Before you change, you walk up to close the blinds on the window beside your bed.

You were actually so excited about the windows in your new apartment because you have a great view of downtown Austin from your living room. Unfortunately, though, your bedroom window points directly at a window in the neighboring building, so it's much less exciting, or so you thought.

Right before you close the blinds, you see the light in the room of that neighboring window flick on, and a pair of broad shoulders hidden inside a familiar black leather jacket stride into that bedroom. You let out a gasp and watch as Javier fully enters the bedroom and throws his jacket and keys onto the dresser across from his bed. As he turns to close the blinds precisely as you were about to do, he freezes, and his eyes meet yours.

Maybe he was right; you might be drunk. Or maybe you just want him to see what he’s missing out on. Right now, you don’t care which it is, so you give him a small smile and begin to undress under the weight of his stare.

*part 2 is out now*

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #reader x character #pedro pascal smut

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johnslittlespoon · 23 days

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I love your bucky is dog fic so much!!! I reread it all the time it's so heart-warming and funny and just ahhh so good!! refreshing ao3 patiently and excitingly waiting for more<33

(a BIG mix of non–brainrot asks so i don't spam the timeline <33 some of these are from so long ago i'm so sorry. also lil disclaimer at the end about some specific asks i've been getting recently and why i won't be answering them! x)

1) !!?? you REREAD IT?? my heart wtf that's so sweet??? 😭💗 THANK U SM i will do my best to not let u down with future chapters even if shit gets a little bit angstier SDJKG <33

2) LMAO backseat gala–ing from the comfort of a couch 😭 judging the outfits as if they don't show up in plain tuxes half the time <3

3) <3333 thank u omg sjgkdk i'm so happy if my lack of stfu ability brings any bit of joy to anyone LOL

4) ILY THX LEGEND @air-exec u enable me too much <33

5) ALWAYS HAPPY TO INDULGE!! thank u for indulging my constantly rotting brain ur so kind 😭 <333

6) yaurrr i think it's just bc i do Not enjoy being around children LMAO i can't ever get into pregnancy/family dynamic type fics in general, i wish i could tho bc they're so wholesome :') but YEAH exactly ugh. it's like. the action of talking about it, especially when it's unattainable, is so intimate bc it's like an "i love you this much" thing. but it's also so hot bc the possession of it (and possible feminization depending on the pairing) sighhh

also i feel that sooo hard, sometimes you just gotta go where ur writing heart takes u yk? it's hard to write something if ur not fully invested :') and omg stop i WILL cry. 😭💗 wtf. thank YOU!! ofc i would read!! some ideas just /hit/ and urs is one of them <33 but also yes omg it's UP there (if not at the top) on my list of pwps i wanna write once i finish yad(iym) <33 thank you for sharing urs too and sending u good writing vibes regardless of what u write!!

7) GAHH this ones been on my ao3 read later since u sent this ask in!!! i literally have started a doc with links to moots fics i need to read/general fics i've stumbled across that look good and this one is for sure going in it. i do love reading sooo much, i just have the hell combo of adhd and dyslexia but i did start concerta a couple weeks ago which has def made it a bit easier to read lmfao thank fuck.

i think i just get in this headspace where i'm either a reader or a writer when i'm working on smth, idk if anyone else does this? i have a hard time slipping btwn both mindsets, i'm usually locked in on one at a time LOL but i need to get my shit together bc fuck everyone in this fandom writes so damn good and i want to leave long essays on all the fics and hype people up <33 i think once i finish the dog fic i'll take a few days to just consume my reading list to celebrate SJDGK

also omg i can't believe this ask is from before i even posted it that's crazyyy MY BAD. thank u and also that made me giggle JSKDG if that's my legacy in this fandom i'm honestly so happy ab that okay dog coded bucky is everything to me and i will do whatever i can to do him justice <333 and thank u again for the rec!

8) [ X ] UGHHH stop mammal RUINED me. he's soososoo pretty i want to die i think about that barry era as curt in the motaverse so often it makes me sick. i love pretty twinks!! xx (i have a whole motaverse au curtbucky where curt looks like 2012–ish barry and he's ken's age and they're cute lil mechanics together and it's so stupidly elaborate and niche and maybe i'll do smth w it one day who knows)

9) this is very sweet and i do appreciate you respecting my boundaries! thank you <3 i think a lot of people get annoyed at adults asking minors not to interact with nsfw posts on here bc the argument is always "they're gonna look even if you ask them not to" which, yeah, true! i was a teenager growing up online, i sure as hell did not let 18+ warnings stop me ever lmfaoo. i'm not telling minors to stay off my account because ik if people wanna find specific content, they're gonna find it. if teens are learning ab gay sex thru my blog, then at least they're learning ab it from a gay man who tries to keep things realistic in fic and who isn't a creep LOL.

that being said, i more so bar off minors interacting with my nsfw posts/writing bc i personally just feel uncomfortable discussing stuff like that with anyone who isn't an adult, and sometimes i don't have the time to check bios for ages (or sometimes bios don't have ages) before i reply to comments or whatever, so it's just easier to ask that y'all stick to the sfw so i don't accidentally brainrot some cooked shit with a child JSDJKG bc i would feel icky. i hope you understand <3

10) IT MAKES ME SICKKK. not only that, but when i was rewatching it with my irl last week, i realized that in e5 when bucky's smoking in the plane after gale goes down, he's sitting in the right (gale's) seat, which i'm pretty sure he doesn't do at any other time :((( like he was trying to be close to him in anyway he could </3

11) omg i've been meaning to watch that just to get a better inside look at stuff for world building purposes lmaooo but that sounds so wholesome :( i read that a lot of the guys would get real sad/touchy around holidays (obviously), so i could see a oneshot where one of them takes it upon themselves to try and cheer everyone up the best they can under their circumstances. a little found family holiday </33

12) thank u for the rec!! i'm suuuch a slow reader, i'm still working my way thru the actual mota book LOL but i've added this to my reading list <3 i think i might've actually read a couple excerpts from that one in doing research for my fic and it looks really interesting (and heartbreaking) so i'm sure i'll pick up a copy eventually :^)

13) oh 100% agree!! as someone who already isn't super interested in fashion/pop–culture, i find it very hard to look at the men's outfits and be blown away by any of them LOL but the women?? insane. was losing it over lana and zendaya's fits tonight ngl. hunter had me in a chokehold with last year's <3 tangent alright i always say this to my friends but i'm just jealous in general that women have so many more options in terms of clothes like.

okay listen i know i can leave my house in a skirt or crop top or whatever and a lot more guys are def starting to feel comfortable doing so. but i also enjoy not worrying about getting jumped or looked at funny! it's a lot safer than it used to be to do so, even in my small ass conservative town i'll sometimes put on some dangly earrings or a bit of rodrick–liner SJKDG but that doesn't mean it's normalized yet or whatever. point being that i wish it was because men's outfits would be sm more exciting at these fashion events if they had a wider range of options too!

but that aside, absolutely. until that changes, really it's not that hard for the men who are going with women (who don't want to go crazy with their outfits/who are more lowkey like you said) to just. wear something nice and on theme that compliments their partner's outfit and they'll be FINE. anything is better than something boring with no effort; effort doesn't have to equal crazy and fancy and elaborate. like austin's 2022 look has always been a standout to me because it was still a really nice look (even if it was simple) and it also worked so well because of who he had at his side. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but i also literally don't know shit ab fashion so i rly shouldn't be speaking on it LOL. i just know some things make me go oh no and some make me go YUM

and that's probs the last i'll post about the met bc i rly don't care thaaaat much, i was just happy to see barry since he wasn't at the panel this weekend <3

OKAY THAT WAS SO MUCH I'M SORRY. i just felt really bad bc some of those have been sitting in my inbox for months bc i was waiting to compile them all into a post like this :-) but also one last thing, idk if it's bc of me stepping out of mota to talk ab the emmy stuff/the met this week, but i've had a couple gossip/drama(?) asks and i just wanna say rn that i won't be posting stuff like that, even though they've been worded kindly! one, because i rly only post about fic/brainrot/mota–fandom related stuff here (aside from rare exceptions like today lol). and two, because as much as i adore our boys and try to keep up with the things they're up to, i personally don't vibe with speculating about them (esp if it's in a way that kinda. forgets they are grown men who probably don't think twice ab some of the stuff that people think they do lolol). i have no issue with people who do like to talk ab that stuff, i follow update blogs and think it's totally fine as long as it's done respectfully! i just don't feel like talking about gossip fits the vibe here and frankly i don't care enough about what goes on behind the scenes half the time; i'm just here to create and support and be insane. <33 that's all, just wanted to say that so ppl aren't waiting to have those asks answered/aren't sending more in! x

#johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon yaps #heavy on the YAPS #because jesus. my bad y'all lmao

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thedeluluverse · 1 year

Text

Happy Valentine's Day! <3

Even if you are like me and are single as a Pringle today lol, it can still be a good day! Just remember that me and BTS love you hunnies!! <3 Please leave any feedback as I'm still very a new and nervous bean uwu XD

Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you visited Jimin after rehearsal but so does he…oops!

Pairing: idol!Jimin x F!reader, mentions of other members but nothing sexual happens.

Rating: 18+

Genre: idol!au, dating!au, smut, fluff, established relationship, one-shot

Word Count: 1,870

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Swearing, anxiety, explicit content, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), breast play, dirty talk, pet names, clit play, praise, neck kissing, some hair pulling, semipublic sexual acts, nibbling

It is 2 weeks before the iconic performance of BTS’s ‘Dionysus’ and your boyfriend Jimin Park is still at the stage even though rehearsals ended 2 hours ago. You only had a half day at work, so after some quick tidying around the house, you indulged in some long-overdue self-care. After an orange and wild berry scented bath, a refreshing Vitamin C facemask, and lathering a sweet honey-caramel scented lotion everywhere, you are glowing. You are starting to worry about your boyfriend still being out in the cold November air. Changing from your turquoise silk robe into a pair of comfy grey pajama shorts, your favorite blue cloud sweater, and white combat boots, you decide to stop by and check on him.

Rehearsal went as well as it could, for it was the first run-through on the stage rather than in their practice room for everyone except Jimin. Faced with his mortal enemy, chairs, it felt like he was back to day one of learning the choreography. While the rest of the members kept reassuring him, saying they had plenty of time to perfect everything, he was still embarrassed whenever he stumbled or fell off the chair. He only intended to stay for a half hour once everyone left. Still, his inner perfectionist took over, and the next thing he knew, it was 2 hours later. With the sun having set, the temperature dropped significantly.

He is so focused, in fact, that he doesn't realize you are there until you pipe up with a "Hello??? Earth to my Jimin-ssi!" He is startled, asking, "Oh hey, y/n, how long have you been standing there? You shouldn't be out here; it's freezing if you aren't under these lights." Crossing your arms, you raise an eyebrow glaring at him, "Lights or not, it is FREEZING!! What in the world are you still doing out here?" As you climb the steps onto the stage, he tries to explain himself, "Listen, don't give me that look. Please, babe." He sighs and looks at the ground sheepishly, confessing his struggles with the chairs that day. Your face softens, and your shoulders drop as you reach out and caress his cheek. "I understand, honey, and you can come back anytime you want in the next couple of weeks. Just please come home, I've been missing you all day, and I want cuddles," you say as you take his hands and give your best pout-puppy dog eye combo. He grins at how adorable you are, kisses your nose, and asks, "Can't I just stay 1 more hour?" You tilt your head, giving an annoyed look, and both attempt to convince the other to do what they say for 5 minutes.

The wind picks up, and you shiver as you notice his face has changed from a pleading look to a smirking one. "Um, when did your flirt king side join the chat?"

You ask, confused. Chuckling, he steps towards you, stating, "Once, I caught your scent through the breeze just now. Hmmm… I wonder if you taste as good as you smell." He wonders as he tilts his head, holds his chin, and smirks. You are caught off guard by this change in demeanor and reply, "I..uh.. hold on! Your tricks aren't going to fool me tonight, Mr. Park, no, no, noooo... We are going home, and no flirting will make me change my mind. Let's go; practice is over." As you head towards the stairs, he lightly grabs your wrist, stands behind you as his hands land on your hips, and whispers into your ear, "Oh, I agree. Our staying here another hour has nothing to do with the performance. Like I said, I want to find out if you taste as good as you smell, darling."

Your eyes are wide as you try to maintain a regular breathing pattern. Having been so busy, you've barely spent time together lately, and today you had been intensely craving his touch. Hesitatingly you ask while turning around to meet his gaze, "b... but… aren’t we going to be caught?” your eyes scanning the area. He gives a very Cheshire cat-like grin, letting you know that he has been the only person there for hours and even has a key to lock up. "Not that I'd care otherwise. I just want you so bad right now, y/n." You stare at the ground biting your lip as you consider this proposition. You answer, "well, if you are 100% sure we are alone, then I gu-“your words are cut off by a deep kiss as he cups your face causing you to stumble backward into the prop table. Mutual giggles echo throughout the late-night air and are quickly replaced with passionate kissing and light moans as your hands travel around each other's bodies. As your hands knock off his hat and dishevel his hair with one of his hands on the small of your back and the other wrapped around your ponytail, giving it a slight tug, you break the kiss to catch a breath.

Looking concerned, he asks, "Are you okay? Was that too much?". Your lust-filled gaze meets his as you shake your head; panting, you say, "No, I'm fine. I just wanted to say that I'm down.". Surprise overtaking his features, he says, "wait, really?!?!". You laugh at his reaction and drape your arms around his neck as you kiss from his neck up to his jawline between words, "don't. make. me. ask. again." smiling against his skin. He lifts you onto the table, grinning, saying, "whatever you want, princess." "Oh, thank god," you exclaim, confessing, "I've been craving you all week, Mochi."

Laying you down, he hovers over you, sliding his hands under your sweater, grabbing your breasts, and teasing your nipples. "Well, that makes two of us, sweetheart," as he leans down and nibbles your earlobe making your breath hitch.

He leaves a trail of kisses down your neck before pulling down your bra, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples before working his way to the drawstring of your shorts. As he unties the bow, he gives teasing pecks on your clothed cunt, making you whimper, losing patience. This elicits a chuckle as he remarks, "Looks like my little slut is eager now, isn't she?" you exhale in frustration. "Yes. Yes, I am, please… I’m aching for you…”.

Following that confirmation of neediness, he pulls down your shorts and lacy underwear with a fierceness you had never seen before. He widens your legs as he barely grazes your clit with his fingers tracing down your pussy. "Damn baby, already so wet for me," he boasts as he slowly slides two fingers in and out. Then, covering your lips with his as his tongue gives light flicks to your clit, gradually increasing the speed along with his hand. You grip the sides of the table as you press yourself into his face, loudly moaning, "fuck baby, just like that!" you say while trying to breathe. Feeling you pulse around his fingers, signaling you are close to your climax, he removes his fingers and slightly nibbles at your inner thighs. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look puzzled and remark, "Um, Hun, I didn't say evacuate…." He smirks and says, "Oh, I know, trust me." Before you can reply, he wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face stating, "I wanted to make sure I didn't miss a drop, my love."

After giving a few passes along the length of your heated core, his tongue explores every inch of your pussy. Taking great care to lap up every drop of moisture, not wanting to waste any of your preciousness. Having made you cum a few times already, he decides to turn it up a notch. Maintaining rhythm, he pushes on your lower abdomen, circling your sensitive clit with his thumb making you practically leap off the table. Your body has finished shaking from your final climax, and Jimin places a soft kiss on your lips, letting you taste yourself. Your limbs collapse against the table as your breathing slowly returns to normal, and you get dressed. In the meantime, Jimin takes great care wiping off and cleaning the prop before you head home.

The next day rolls around, and you sleep in because between it being your day off and the events of last night, you plan on not doing much of anything right now. Jimin, however, had to get up early to get a quick workout before meeting everyone else at the stage for rehearsal. His anxiety spikes as soon as he gets there due to flashbacks of last night and paranoia. The worry is that they will be able to tell (or smell) that something happened mixes into an uncomfortable cocktail of emotions which causes him to do even worse today. Everyone else notices and checks on him, very confused since he said he stayed late last night practicing the choreography. He laughs it off, saying, "yeah, I did. I just uh… didn't get sleep well." At this very moment, you show up with hot chocolate and Yeontan for all the warmth and serotonin since it is brutal outside.

You place the drinks and the dog on the table, handing the leash to Jin while you hand out the beverages. Yeontan starts feverishly sniffing the table (cue heart attack for poor Chim Chim). After about 10 seconds, Taehyung remarks, "That's weird. He normally doesn't investigate an area that long." Jin immediately bends down to try and assess the reason for this abnormal behavior. He informs everyone that the staff must've super cleaned the prop due to the wind being wild lately because it has a strong cleaning product smell. Tae promptly moves Yeontan to the ground before he licks the chemical residue. Jimin lets out the biggest exhale in his life. With this reassurance that y'alls secret is safe, his confidence returns and nails the routine.

As you drive back to the house, you cannot help but ask him why he was acting so weird and fidgety. He tells you about his irrational fear, and you cackle in response because you know he did a better job cleaning up after the fun than he does his own house most times. In response, he pouts as he faces the window and crosses his arms, upsettingly saying, “Aish, it's not funny, y/n-ah!! I was terrified all day!!". Even though it technically was his idea, you apologize and reassure him that you won't bring it up again. He feels guilty that he snapped at you, so then turns back to face you, saying, "It's fine. I'm sorry. I don't regret it one bit and would do it again in an instant if given a chance," as he smirks and grabs your thigh.

Grinning, you blush as you pull into the driveway and say, "No objections here. First, though, I think you could use some stress relief". You raise an eyebrow and leave a quick kiss on his cheek before exiting the car as he remains in shock for a moment before running inside to accept your offer for fear you will change your mind.

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gumnut-logic · 1 year

Photo

Thank you to all those who participated in this challenge last week. Remember, there are no deadlines on any of my challenges, only the ones you set yourself. The aim is to inspire and that does not have a time limit :D

Week Four

Totally self indulgent this week as I take a comment from @gaviiadastra and run with it.

This week is FISHTANK!

If you would like to join in, have at it. Write, draw, paint, craft, scribble, whatever works :D

The Details

I will post a small palette of colours, on Sundays.

Take the colours, which will not be precise, because I’m too lazy to get out my Pantone swatches, and colour matching sucks across monitors and printers and yeah, it’s a graphic design nightmare. So take the approximate colours and do something with with them. Art, craft, traditional, digital, performance, big, small, using all the colours, one of the colours, a derivative of the colours, fanworks or not fanworks, whatever works. I know, getting the creative brain to produce anything is a pain in many body parts. And writers, if this floats your boat, grab it and let’s go sailing :D

Post it to your blog (or not, but I’d love to see it anyway) and tag with #nuttypalette (the whole challenge title is too long and it abbreviates to npc which while I love Ryan Reynolds, isn’t really what I’m looking for :D )

How I ended up doing this

Okay, I’m possibly nuts, actually, probably nuts, but I’ve been looking for a way to activate my art a bit more. I can draw, paint, whatever and I have a studio full of glorious equipment that is barely getting used.

I had thought to start a sketch book, but the problem with that is that not all my media can be supported in a sketch book and plus I am horribly hard to tie down into one thing (you may have noticed).

I was pondering away and it occurred to me that the one thing that links all my art and craft media is colour. This combined with the fact that I have a pile of beads lined up on my desk in colour combos waiting for me to action something with them. They are like mini palettes.So what if I come up with a small combination of colours every week and do whatever with those colours?

I know I’m not the first to have this brain wave, but it struck me as something I could do, so I’m doing it. Initially for the month of February and see what happens. It may fizzle into nothing due to being back at work :( but at the very least I’ll end up with a little bit of creative stuff done?

So I’m slapping it here, in case anyone would like to join in.

Have fun :D

Nutty

#nuttypalette #nuttys palette challenge #art prompts #writing prompts #writers prompts #challenges #palette challenge #colour

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

finders keepers

summary: did captain america just steal your cat?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers

author’s note: it’s been way too long since i wrote some pure, self indulgent fluff. this has been quite the refreshing experience for me but i think it’s back to our regularly scheduled program after this ;)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Miso had an air of arrogance that you admired. She took the world by its kitty balls, doing whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. Your cat left the apartment for sometimes days at a time, and frequently led male cats to your door. To you, your cat was more like a roommate than a pet, hogging up most of your bed, standing on the counter while you attempted to make food for yourself, and leaving most areas dirtier than she originally found it.

Okay, maybe you were personifying your cat a little too much. But after moving out to D.C., you were unspeakably lonely. Most days, it felt like Miso was all you had, and that you were all Miso had (save for her army of cat boyfriends).

This made things all the more concerning for you when you’d realized that you hadn’t seen your cat companion in five days. Five whole days without the comforting vibration of her purr, her ungodly hours of wakeup calls demanding to be played with, or pet. The cherry on top was that the cat food outside your door appeared to be completely untouched.

In your frenzied realization of your missing cat, your mind raced with a thousand different terrible situations your dear Miso could’ve found herself in. You frantically clicked through pictures of her on an online album and attempted to find a photo that would capture her white fur with large blobs of auburn, and her vibrant blue eyes to put on your ‘MISSING’ sign. The longer you clicked, the more that you began to worry that she had been caught and kidnapped by some terrible person with bad intentions.

You finally threw together the poster, sending it to your phone so that you could print it off at the OfficeMax down the street. Luckily for you, you didn’t make it that far, as the moment you began to lock the closed door of your apartment, you saw the unmistakable figure of your cat.

In the arms of your neighbor.

Now, you’d never met Steve. He was an Avenger, Captain America to be exact, and you were just… you. You’d convinced yourself that attempting to introduce yourself to him would ultimately end in failure, and an embarrassing one at that. Maybe he’d scoff and walk away, or call Tony Stark in front of you and tell him about the crazy woman he just encountered.

But none of that mattered. Captain America was stealing your fucking cat.

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked, stepping away from your door and approaching the Greek God of a man to the right of you.

“Oh, hey! We must be n-“

“You have my cat,” you said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve seemed to do a double take

“My cat, y’know, the feline in your arms.”

“Well, maybe we just have similar looking cats. This is Arabella.”

You nearly scoffed at this, shaking your head. First, Captain America kidnapped your cat, and now he’s trying to convince you that it’s not your cat? Yeah, you’d know Miso from a mile away. And what kind of name is Arabella?

“Arabella is a great name for her,” Steve retorted, pulling the cat closer to his chest. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Well I think it’s time for Miso to come back home,” the cat’s ears perked at this, and she glanced over at you. The sight of you made her wiggle and hop out of Steve’s tight embrace, landing on her feet and trotting over to you. The damn cat rubbed her face against your calf and purred as if she hadn’t been cheating on you for long enough to have gained a new name.

You squatted down and rubbed the back of your hand against her cheek, and shook your head at your pet, “you’re getting put on probation, young lady.”

She didn’t seem to mind, pacing back and forth around you. You glanced up and saw Steve with a rather neutral expression on his face, as if he was masking whatever it was that he was feeling.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Uh, maybe I’ll see you both around sometime,” disappointment coated his every word before he opened up his apartment door and promptly closed it behind him.

You were surprised at how quickly he conceded, but you weren’t particularly mad about it either. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you never got your Miso back.

——

A whole day later, you’d been in your apartment typing up an email when a soft rapping at your door got your attention.

“Just a second!” you called, hopping up and hurrying to the door. When you opened it, Steve was standing in front of you, waiting with an oversized box in his hands.

“These are some of Ar- Miso?” he trailed off, waiting for you to confirm the name, and you gave him a tiny nod. “These are some of Miso’s toys. I just figured if she’s not staying at my place anymore…”

As if on cue, Miso strolled up to the door, and stretched her arms up on Steve’s leg, begging to be picked up. The man glanced at you for approval, and you gave a dismissive shrug before he set down the box, and held up the cat.

Steve frowned as he held her, and frankly, it pulled on your heart strings. You had to remind yourself that this man had been holding your cat captive for at least a week, and at most… who knows.

She clearly had a connection with him, and that was what intrigued you most. Miso was a very picky cat, and it was only occasionally that she found someone that she genuinely liked, let alone wanted to be picked up by. If you continued to watch the display of affection in front of you, you might just cave.

“Uh, I left something in the oven for a little too long, so I should probably go get that. Thanks for stopping by.”

Steve nodded, understanding that it was time for him to exit.

——

You should’ve seen this coming the minute Miso was back in your home. You stepped out of the shower one morning to find your front door slightly ajar, and your animal nowhere to be found.

You huffed, frustrated that just three days after you told yourself that your cat was completely indoor from that point on, she had escaped. She could literally be anywhere at this point.

In a whirlwind, you threw on a sweatshirt and pants, ready to go print out the missing posters that you had designed just a few days ago. As you slipped on sneakers, you realized something very crucial. She might just be at Steve’s place.

You groaned aloud, rubbing your temple as you thought of how difficult your cat was being. You were becoming a bit nervous to approach Steve, you hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start, and if your cat wasn’t there, things might just be awkward.

Regardless, you knew you needed to try, so you exited your own home, and knocked on the door of Steve’s.

A few moments later, he appeared with your cat in tow.

“Hey!” he paused and trailed off, “I never got your name before.”

“That’s what you care about right now?” you glanced down at your animal. “It’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Hi, Y/N. Miso and I were just enjoying breakfast, if you’d like to join us?”

Was Steve shooting his shot?

“I appreciate your offer, but I think I’m alright. I have to get back to work, and my cat is still in your custody,” your eyes flickered down to the animal who stood proudly by his side.

“Maybe some other time,” he shrugged. “You work from home?”

You nodded, then squatted down to get eye level with your cat.

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll stop bothering you now. Bye Miso, see you around, Y/N.”

You picked up your cat, who briefly dug her nails into the ground in resistance before submitting to her capture. As you brought her back home, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the right choice.

——

Ever since you’d discovered Miso, or Arabella’s secret life, it’s like you couldn’t stop noticing her connection to Steve.

Some days, she’d be gone until the dead of night, when she’d meow and paw at your front door until you woke up. Other times she’d be laying in bed with you, and she smelled distinctly of your neighbor. Your cat had single handedly turned a stranger into a thoroughly integrated part of your life.

It was as if Miso was now your child, and Steve your ex-husband in a Cold War style custody battle, where Miso seemed to prefer her father. It was slightly disheartening. At the very least, you knew she was in good hands.

You held a throw pillow to your chest while you watched a rerun of a sitcom on your television, procrastinating in your work for as long as you possibly could. The sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your trance, and as you peeked through the peephole of your door, you saw a slightly distorted Steve.

Opening up the door, you gave him just the faintest hint of a smile, “what’s up, neighbor? Need me to grab you some treats for Arabella, or something?”

“Kinda the opposite,” he gestured with his head down to the cat squirming in his hands. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for the next week or so. I just wanted to let you know that if Miso gets out, she’s not with me.”

Steve set her down on your carpet, and she happily collapsed at your feet, “keep her safe for me, alright?”

——

You took a deep breath as you approached his door, hoping he hadn’t left just yet. You fiddled with the sticky note containing your number, and polaroid photo of your cat in your hand, considering turning around and scrapping the idea all together.

It was silly to think that an Avenger would ever bother reaching out to you. You were probably overstepping anyway. Steve would think you were a freak and take full custody of your beloved Miso once and for all.

Going against your better judgment, you set down the polaroid-note combo and quickly slid it under Steve’s door. Whatever happened happened.

The next morning, you were pleased to receive a notification from an unknown number.

Send Miso pics?

You were more than happy to oblige.

——

Over the course of Steve’s week-long mission, you’d sent several pictures and videos of your cat doing random things. Trying to get on the table, sleeping on top of your dryer, and even playing with one of the toys Steve provided.

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t as dry of a texter as you thought he’d be. He was eating up all of the Miso content, and would occasionally even ask for you to send more photos.

The final night of his mission, you were surprised when you received a FaceTime request, at first writing it off as a technical error (he was from a different time period, after all), but the follow up call demonstrated his intentions.

You cautiously picked up, the knot in your stomach growing as you did so, “hello?”

“Hi!” Steve greeted optimistically, the phone just a bit too close to his face. “Any Miso sightings?”

“Yeah, she’s actually sleeping on my foot right now,” you chuckled, flipping the camera so you could show her off in your dim, lamp-lit bedroom.

“So cute,” he hummed, “how have you been?”

“Me?” you laughed quietly, “I’m not the one on a top secret mission in god-knows-where. But I’ve been fine. How are you?”

“Honestly? I’m pretty tired. Kinda can’t wait to get home and see you and Miso,” he said in a quieter voice.

Your brain stalled out for a second. Steve was excited to see you? You hoped that you were reading this the right way, as you were more than willing to go with whatever it was that Steve was putting down.

“We’ll be expecting an immediate visit from you, then. I’ll let Miso know that she needs to start kneading a bread loaf for you as soon as possible. Any idea of what time you’re getting into D.C.?”

“Probably late morning, but it really depends on when Natasha gets up.”

You had a moment where you realized that you were talking to a real life superhero, and he had just referenced his friend… who was also a superhero. You paused for a second.

“Y/N? Hey, you still here?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just zoned out for a sec. Well, you better get here safe or else someone is going to be very annoyed with you.”

Steve laughed softly across the line, and you adjusted yourself in bed, yawning softly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is over there,” Steve apologized.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. One of Miso’s boyfriends is pretty upset that he can’t come in here and spend the night with her.”

“Which one?”

“I think that grey one. I don’t really know what his voice sounds like, but she’s been leading him on lately,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from both you and Steve.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I don’t need you snoozing while I come to visit our girl.”

“You are something else, Steve Rogers,” you said fondly, adjusting your phone one last time as you hugged a pillow. “I’ll get to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You hung up, and cuddled into your pillow with a sigh. Calling your dreams that night sweet was an understatement.

——

You seemed to be Steve’s first stop after his mission, stopping at your door with his duffel bag still attached to his arm, and wearing a slightly dirty and much too small white t-shirt.

Expecting his presence, you quickly got the door and gave him a toothy grin.

“It’s so good to see your face without a screen,” Steve commented. Internally, you swooned.

“I could say the same for you, Steve.”

Miso had been summoned by the sound of Steve’s voice, practically sprinting to the door and meowing at him on the top of her lungs.

“Miso really appreciates you coming here to see her first,” you added as he lifted her up and quietly cooed into her wrinkly head. “Feel free to take her for the next few days. I’m sure she’s getting tired of me.”

Steve shook his head at you, and grinned, “that’s so sweet of you,” he briefly looked down at his wristwatch, and his brows raised.

“Shit. I have to go, but I promise to see you soon. I’m glad to see that everything is well. Take care, Y/N,” Steve began making his way back to his own apartment, and you watched him with the semblance of a frown.

You really needed to stop longing for the unobtainable.

——

You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few days following his return, and your brief interaction with him. Part of you wondered if he was avoiding you for some reason.

Your phone lit up the room as it went off, and you grabbed it to look at the notification you received.

A picture of Steve grinning with Miso sitting on his chest looked back at you with a simple message connected to it.

Wanna come over? :D

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction

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autisticandroids · 3 years

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ok how would girls au work because i feel like to keep true with the theme of toxic gender roles them being cool and butch feels very at odds with that when like the girl version of that would be like christian girl with an instagram talking about country life and her future husband like it would be an interesting combo for them because john would be like ur an inherent failure for being a girl but also the expectations are lower already for them compared to john and sons

yeah it’s like weird! but i think about it a lot. i made a big fun post with it here.

basically my ideas are a combination of serious (dean) interesting (sam) and self-indulgent (cas).

like first of all i think sam is an out lesbian and i think she came out during the fight before stanford. like, i think she told dean when she was like fifteen, but she told john the night she left. she spat it in his face, actually.

i think dean is like. dean loves her unconditionally but is also lightly homophobic to her about it, you know? they were accustomed to sharing motel room beds as kids but dean won’t do it anymore now that she knows sam likes girls. dean is also like, weird to her about her interactions with other women, and also talks constantly about men, as though men-liking were a cool exclusive club only dean is invited to.

i think sam has like butt length straight hair and doesn’t wear any makeup ever but doesn’t like. wear mens clothes or anything, like she wears plain clothes that are cut for women. on hunts she puts her hair in a braid. maybe she braids a spiked strap into it like beka cooper.

dean is like........ dean is a lot like young, pre-john mary i think. think the song remains the same. dean is obsessed with performing masculinity, while at the same time terrified of seeming mannish or queer. she walks a weird line, and ends up overperforming both masculinity and femininity. she regularly challenges dudes twice her size to arm wrestling contests in bars, but she never goes out of the motel room without a full face of makeup. like she’s obsessed with doing both. masculinity for respect, and femininity for conformity. you know that thing dean does with his voice? the harshening? the intentionally adopted accent and tough guy tones? she does that too. and her voice is raspy, like rachel miner’s. she’s just as invested in her “heterosexuality” as canon dean.

she wears dean’s same green army jacket but underneath it she ties up a flannel shirt so it bares her midriff. she wears her hair like s13 mary, except that sometimes she puts it in little pigtails.

cas is the easiest because cas’ gender presentation doesn’t matter at all except in how OTHER PEOPLE relate to her, so it’s less a question of “how would cas do woman?” and more a question of “what would it be fun to see other people/dean specifically react to?”

so basically like. jimmy novak is a frumpy feminine christian mom. still wears the trench coat and probably a suit but when i say suit i mean blazer, pencil skirt, tights, blouse (or maaaybe a button down), low-ish heels. long hair in bouncy curls (think rowena’s hair but no bangs and black). actually jimmy novak probably pinned her hair up in a slight updo.

anyway i’ve decided that i refuse to try and remember what actually happened with cas falling in like, canon, like how close he got to human. this au’s cas gets close enough to human that she has to start like. showering. anyway she can’t take care of the hair so it gets tangled in a giant rat’s nest and dean gives her a bathroom chop. she has to borrow the winchester sisters’ clothes, because she has to start changing clothes but also because she can’t fucking walk in jimmy’s heels or in that confining skirt without the assistance of her grace.

all the winchesters’ clothes look baggy on her because she’s kind of spindly and narrow and flat as a board. like dean and sam have big shoulders, big hips, and big breasts, and cas has zero out of three, so anything she wears looks like a smock. she keeps wearing the coat over whatever they give her. she’s tallish (five feet eight or nine inches?) but dean is taller and sam is freakishly tall. cas could probably pass for a man alone but when she’s with dean or sam it’s obvious she’s a woman just because of the heights.

when she returns to angelhood at the end of season five, she’s wearing jimmy’s white office button down, but no bra underneath because the only reasons she would need one would be to either make her boobs look bigger or to hide her nipples and cas isn’t interested in either of those things and bras are uncomfortable, no blazer on top, a set of cargo pants that look feminine and form fitting on dean because dean is in possession of an ass and hips, but baggy and dykey on cas because she is not, combat boots (also dean’s), and the coat, and her hair is just like canon cas’ hair but way choppier because dean cut it for her.

anyway, dean treats cas in a WILD way, like. they do some intricate rituals in season four? they are dean winchester and castiel, after all. but after cas butches up in season five and then stays that way dean pushes it into overdrive. “i wish you were a boy so i could date you” shit. dean lets cas put a hand on the small of her back. she jokes that cas is her boyfriend. when cas sleeps, they sleep in the same bed, “since you can’t possibly share with sam, she’s a dyke.” also she called cas cassie a lot when cas looked more feminine but switches exclusively to cas when cas looks more masculine. like it’s this whole “”””straight”””” girl intricate ritual where one is attracted to a masculine woman so one coercively masculinizes her further.

sam tries to check in with cas to see if cas is cool with this forcible masculinization and weird gender relationship, because sam is gay and Understands or at least thinks she does. she also catches wind that cas is here to smash a lot sooner than in canon. but anyway cas rebuffs her because cas hates sam.

tangent, but one of my least favorite things that happens in mid spn, starting i think in s6, is that they start needing plausible deniability for cas, so they start pretending him and sam are like, friends. like 6.20 “i did it to protect the boys. or to protect myself. i don’t know anymore.” like there’s all this emotional stuff where cas is clearly talking about his emotional connection to dean, but sam gets included in order to make it seem SLIGHTLY less gay. and that’s annoying because of the no-homo-ness but it’s actually more annoying because 1) i liked s5 cas’ bitchiness towards sam i think that killed and 2) if sam and cas are gonna be friends after cas was a bitch and called sam an abomination and shit, develop it! develop it! don’t just Say that they are.

anyway it’s my au and i say what happens so the plausible deniability “both the brothers are important to me” shit does NOT happen and cas is a bitch to sam throughout s5&6. they do eventually bond later? like cas still takes sam’s hell trauma, and sam feels like she owes her for that (even though it was CAS’ FAULT IN THE FIRST PLACE but sam is batshit like that). so that’s what kind of gets them to eventually bond a little and become friends and comrades.

also sam clocks cas as gay. obviously. sam tries to inform cas about being gay. because sam too is gay. it only kind of sticks. cas doesn’t really understand how human societal roles work. cas has HUGE angel autism and i support her.

also as long as we’re talking about five and six, why don’t we deal with male lisa. so obviously the kid thing doesn’t work. the thing that lisa does that makes dean like :o is not “have a kid that might be dean’s” but “tell dean he was going to propose.” this implies that they were dating in the past longer than canon dean and lisa but oh well.

however, when dean gets pulled back into hunting, she’s six weeks pregnant by lisa and doesn’t know it. cas immediately tells her, and offers to give her an angelic abortion. she accepts without hesitating and cas does it. the fact that this - cas taking ownership of dean’s reproductive organs in a somewhat invasive way, even if it was wanted - contributes to their whole.... season six..... dynamic. dean never tells lisa about this.

that’s everything i can think of. i have work in four hours.

#spn #asks #pregnancy tw #Anonymous #girls au

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thecrowslullaby · 3 years

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001 and Loceit 😁😁 --🌶🌶🌶

when I started shipping it if I did:

When I was 7 pages into the murder mystery comic. I was a fool who thought this:

was gonna stay a joke. Hooooo, boi was I wrong. Because I spent my 2 week vacation giving them a sad™ backstory, and realised I actualy really like their dynamic and now I can never go back, the brainrot is too strong.

my thoughts:

No thoughts at this point, only a stack of doodles and comic pages with fluff so indulgent it's too emberassing to share and a playlist of songs I want to make loceit animatics too.

Ok one thought: I find it absolutly hillarious that I took the two most stoic and academically smart characters in the shows and made their braincells allergic to each other.

What makes me happy about them:

The overlapping of interrests. The fact that these two could grow with each other. Logan catching Janus lies, but rolling with them anyway. Janus playing up Logan's confidence.

What makes me sad about them:

With all the angst in the fandom I feel like they keep playing against each other. This can literally be said about any other relationship too, tbh.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Love confession that avolve into: lets f*ck in a matter of seconds/minutes? (i mean, i generally avoid smut, but I also adore ace Logan and/or Janus headcannons)

things I look for in fanfic:

I mean, I like that trope in general, but especially for loceit.

+them convincing ach other to take a break.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

I'm a huge fan of both loceit and intruality, but tbh, I'm fine with any combination of intrulomoceit (pairings/poly ships, uou name it I'll take it). Both moceit and logicality is cute and wholesome, while both demus and intrulogical is wild or ride and fun. Like, obviously I'd chose loceit and intruality over any other ship combo but I'm ok with the others ^^'.

My happily ever after for them:

Having some relaxing quiet time. I just want them to be soft together, not necesarry romantically, but I want them to be able to work on projects together and getting to discuss book, phylosophy, sharing gossip, sipping mom juice together. Relaxing.

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

Both, both is good. Janus placing himself between Logan and whatever project he had once again worked too long on to force him to take a break, or Loggan wrapping his arms around Janus while they both work or read has my heart. So does the concept of tiny Janus trying desperatly to wrap himself around Logan's back, or in-canon-verse, using all of his six arms to do so.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

Just, leaning against each other while going about their day. Little hugs through out the day ;-;, both reading a book, sharing a blanket.

#long post #loceit #crow rambles #thanks for the ask #that panel pinpoints the moment i started shipping loceit

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cosmicbash · 3 years

Text

Fuck it.

I got possessed by a Pelly ghost, or my heavy duty flu medication I'm on and somehow started and finished a Pelly smut prompt in like a half hour, so, to that anon who asked-

Here's some completely unedited, messy ass, probably nonsensical Pelly smut from my medicated ass. I hope you enjoy it 👏

This shit is like 2.5k what the FUCK

Colson and Pete liked to fool around.

Not just in the childish prank war or food fight type of way either. Alot of times their goofy little games quickly changed genres to something more adult. It was hard to avoid, what with the drugs, their chemistry, and the allure of something taboo that came with kissing your best friend.

It never got much farther than handjobs and side by side circle jerks though, and even those felt weird for the first dozen times. Colson didn't really think of himself as bi, or pan, or queer, or whatever the hell they were calling dudes who also jerked off dudes in between banging hot chick's nowadays. Mainly because he didn't jerk off dudes. Just one dude. Pete. He had some stupid exception made in his head for the younger comedian that seemed to cross every and any boundary he tried to set.

So yeah, they fool around. They kiss, they bite eachother, hump, stuff hands down one another's jeans just for laughs, sometimes they even cuddle, but not in an after sex kind of way, just a, move over your couch isn't big enough for me and it's pointless to watch a movie together in the guest room kind of way. It's weird, but not? Colson can't ever seem to put too much thought into whatever he and Pete have going on before he gets distracted or develops a headache.

They're just friends. He thinks.

But. Then again, that doesn't explain how they've ended up here in the comedians bed again. Pete's mouth warm and wet against his own. Kissing him in all the ways he feels like he kisses girls, stealing away his breath and sending a warm tickle down his body all the way to the tips of his toes. It's so different from the usual leading position he finds himself taking in every other hook up that Colson can't help but find himself carried away by it. He would probably be content to lay back and let Pete kiss and fondle him for hours if the brunette didn't always find some stupid joke he had to make and interrupt the mood.

So far tonight they're off to a good start though, maybe a bit too good of one with how his jeans are already down around his ankles and his cock is slick between Pete's tight fist.

Colson can barely remember what stupid creepy unsolved case files episode they'd been watching on the TV before he jokingly asked Pete to distract him from his paranoid thoughts. Rarely did weed and suspicious murders weigh lightly on Colson's head. He'd spent a whole week after humoring one of Pete's marathons of the show utterly convinced his stylist was out to secretly kill him. People are just so unpredictable its scary.

Like Pete. His mouth might be up pressing against his one second, and down sucking and biting on his tatted nipple the next. It's jarring how random his best friends actions seem sometimes. Like, just when Colson thinks he has Pete's rhythm figured out the comedian senses it and decides to switch things up on him again.

Last week Pete had called Colson weird for curiously flicking his tongue over one of the other man's hard nubs. Outright laughing at his attempt for foreplay and spinning some joke about breastfeeding and asking Colson to call him mommy until the rapper had abandoned the idea altogether.

Yet here the little hypocrite was, absolutely moaning into his chest while he did the same thing. Free hand stuffed down his own sweats where he's crowded himself between Colson's legs.

It shouldn't be hot, Colson wants to give the same incredulous laugh at his best friends actions and tease him just the same but his throat feels tight and his body electric at the attention. Like Pete knows some secret trick he hasn't yet deciphered that swaps the nerves in your tits and your dick around to drive you wild.

Instead he just moans. Head tipping back and lips parting for a "Fuck- Petey-" before he carts his fingers through soft short brown hair. Maybe it's just the combo of jacking off alongside it, or his pain kink coming back to bite him in the ass. He can't say, but Pete's teeth gnawing softly at his nipple makes his dick squirt just a little more precum with every jerk.

He feels like he might be close. Hips kicking up softly from the mattress when Pete's mouth travels in hungry kisses across his chest to suck at and nibble on the other.

It's weird. Pushing invisible boundaries yet again but Colson doesn't want him to stop.

He's hardly participating at all too, one arm thrown above his head to grab at the head board and help arch his back, while the other is still glued to the back of Pete's head like it has been since they first kissed. Usually their flings are two sided, fists racing in their jerks to make the other come first, not self indulgent like tonight where he's hardly touched Pete's dick at all outside of a few over the clothes gropes.

It's got that question nagging at the back of Colson's mind again. Why they're doing this? What he's getting out of opening himself up so vulnerably to his best friend's traveling hands and wandering mouth?

The invasive thoughts are so distracting for a moment that Colson doesn't even realize Pete's traveled souther until he has the electric shock of wet lips sealing around the tip of his dick. Eyes bursting open and heart racing because Pete's kissing him somewhere new. His best friend's fucking taking his dick into his hot warm mouth for the first time.

And holy fuck does he love it.

"F-fuck-" Colson feels like a teenager getting his first blowie again with how his hips instantly jerk up and his fingers tighten around hair.

Fuck fuck fuck, Pete is swallowing his dick down too fast for him to watch. He knows the comedian has a big mouth but christ, it can't be that deep can it? There's no way Pete has sucked dick before and not told him, they share everything, and until this moment, he thought the disinterest in tasting dick was a big one of those things.

But apparently not, because the comedian is slurping obscenely and sucking all over the tip and length of his dick like a lollipop offered to a man starved. It's so attentive that Colson doesn't even mind the few moments where he cock clumsily slips out of the other's mouth and bumps against a scratchy cheek or blunt teeth. It's amazing.

Colson definitely knows he must be close now. His neck feels stuck in a permanent arch back, face burying itself in the croon of his arm while he moans and curses, and pleas for Pete to not stop.

Less than delicate fingers fondle his balls and spit slips down between his legs but Colson only loves it all more. He wants to fuck his best friends face. Stuff Pete's head down hard and bury his cock down the comedians throat to paint the next couple jokes that come out of his mouth white. He tries to push though and finds a strong resistance, Pete's immediate gag and flinch back easily overpowering his weak shove.

Then the hot mouth is gone. Ripping an embarrassing whimper from the rapper's lips before he can catch it. The quick thrust up of his hips and stretch of his toes to try and kick his way back up into Pete's mouth ignored.

Colson's just about to whine and curse, and bitch at Pete for being such a fucking stupid tease when that evil mouth descends yet again. This time skating down over the long vein stretching the length of his dick to go even lower. Tongue and teeth finding his balls to offer attention there instead.

Now his curse is more breathy, and his hips arching up higher. Because holy fucking shit Pete is sucking and tugging on his balls like an expert, fist back around the base of his dick to pick up where it left off.

"God, Pete- Pete-" Colson's own hand has abandoned soft hair to clumsily grab at his own thigh. Fingers slipping and struggling to find purchase on sweat slick skin so that he can help hike his legs up a little higher to get Pete going lower. Every inch of his sack begging for the same attention that's fluttering across it. It takes a few swift kicks to free his one foot from his jeans but when he does it only lets his legs spread open wider. Every part of him arching and opening itself up for Pete to see with no flash of the usual shame he feels from even stripping his pants off all the way around the comedian.

He just needs more. He's so so close and Pete's tasting him like someone starved.

His dick is leaking, precum streaming out in more consistent spurts and oversensitivity just starting to tingle at the tip with every twist of Pete's wrist. Colson knows he's going to come, his neck is twisted and his face pressed hard against the hard wood of the headboard from all of his stretching and kicking to guide Pete lower and it should hurt but he can barely feel any of those aches over the chills he gets when both of Pete's hands suddenly grab him by the thighs and yank him down a little. Uncharacteristically rough in their manhandling until Colson is blinking blearily up at the bland ceiling and trembling because his ass is leaving the bed. Pete's nose bumping against his balls and tongue swiping over his taint.

The noise that bursts from between his parted lips doesn't even sound human at this point. Something between a wheeze and a moan while the room spins and his best friends tongue abruptly drags flat over his asshole to top off the absurdity of the whole night.

Colson's fingers are still cutting sharp into the back of his thigh though, grip only tightening as his body moves on its own to pull his knee closer to his chest. The bump of Pete's fingers near his own tingly in every good way.

There's no backing out now, he's losing his mind in the rush of everything, all thought flying out the window to make room for a mantra of, fuck, please, please, Petey, please- until there's another lap tongue against his hole and a fist curling back around his neglected dick.

He only lasts another few jerks. Pete's mouth sucking and humming around the rim of his asshole while he paints his own chest. Tongue out in a long moan and eyes rolled back into his head until he sees stars. It's so good. Colson can feel he body rocking and twitching with every spurt of cum, and Pete's tongue isn't slowing either. Pressing and licking until it has wiggled its way inside his ass and the moans coming from his mouth wind their way down into whimpers from overstimulation.

Colson's legs drop fast, snapping down from his grip like his fingers are a broke rubber band to catch on Pete's shoulder. Over the blood rushing in his ears he can hear Pete moaning, fuck, he can feel it against his skin. It's desperate, so much that eventually the comedian isn't even licking or tongueing him anymore, just mumbling and bumping his mouth between the rapper's cheeks in escalating fervor.

Colson's brain is still too busy rebooting for him to properly appreciate how fucking hot it sounds. He can hear the wet slap of Pete's dick too, skin clapping against skin with what he can only guess is lightning jerks of fist.

"Fuuuuck-" Pete's finally the one cursing, his whole body jerking up from where he's been burying his face between Colsons legs to scramble up onto his knees. Sweats shoved down around his thighs, dick all shiny and almost purple while he moans and jerks it off in front of him. The leg Colson had dropped down on Pete's shoulder half rising with him, caught before it can slip by the comedian extra hand to keep it high and his back arched before the man comes. Hot spurts burning Colson's skin everywhere it lands between them. Especially across his own balls and inner thighs, Pete not stopping until he's half stumbling forward to crush the blonde and cum is peppering thick drops against Colson's twitching hole too. His groan long and deep while he watches.

The visual alone is enough to make the rapper's spent dick twitch. Heart beat quickening and face burning hotter in embarrassment over how blissed out his best friends expression has become once their eyes finally meet.

Pete's going to kiss him. He can see it clear as day in those honey brown eyes and that wet pout of lips.

He just narrowly avoids it with a fast slap of hand across the comedians mouth after Pete drops forward. His own knuckles bumping hard against his teeth with how close of call it is, and Pete's nose poking softly at his cheek.

"Fuck dude-" Colson still feels shaky as he speaks. Head twisting sideways away from Pete's repeated bump and weak smooch against his palm before he continues. "No way, fuck, man, your tongue was just in my ass-" Even saying the word out loud burns Colson's ears and makes his thighs tremble a little. "Gross, gross, gross dude!"

"Mm, sowwy-" Pete's mouth is still pressing with its kisses, his words half mumbled and slurred by the flat press of Colson's hand that refuses to move.

"Fuck." The heat of the moment finally fading Colson can't help but find himself cursing again and again. "Fucking fuck-" a hysterical laugh is bubbling up his throat and with it a couple dozen more that burst free with a shake of his shoulders and a light shove at Pete's face so he can rub his hand over his face instead. "You fucking licked my ass-"

"I know-" Pete sounds downright apologetic where he buries his face against one sweaty tatted shoulder but Colson can only shake harder. More and more laughter coming until he's almost in tears repeating it yet again.

"You ate my fucking ass Pete!" It's so funny he almost can't breathe. Boundaries and embarrassment aside the reality of the situation finally settling in just has Colson cackling in disbelief. "Oh my god dude-"

"I- I got caught up in the moment-" Pete's face is redder than he's ever seen it when Colson peeks out from behind his hand, and if he could laugh harder he would. But he can't so instead he smiles. He smiles as wide and as big as he can until his cheeks hurt up at his ashamed best friend.

"And you called me a weirdo for licking your nipple dude?"

He is never letting Pete live this down.

#stealing metalheadkells format again #because its the superior formatting for fics #and i have no idea if this is any good #or if it makes sense #but #i hope its readable at the minimum #so accept some rushed surprised #cozy fic #pelly #fanfiction #prompt

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thenocturnalmushroom · 3 years

Text

A Cozy Night - Touyuki - CCS

Tags: Fluff; Domestic; Domestic Fluff; Self-Indulgent; Established Relationship

Read on AO3

It was almost eleven at night and Yukito still having no desire to go to sleep. He was comfortably sitting under his kotatsu, accompanied by a good show on his laptop, a tin of cookies and some delicious hot tea – a perfect combo to a winter night. His plan was to finish watching the said show that same night, even if he had to stay up until dawn; it was a Friday night and he had no class nor job the next morning so he had no worries regarded his bedtime. Besides, the show was worth the loss of some sleep hours.

The silver-haired boy was completely immersed into the story, anxiously nibbling at a sugar cookie and barely noticing how his body was slowly leaning toward the laptop while his almost unblinking eyes refused to go away from the screen. The first real confront of the main character and the true villain was finally happening, and it was intense. Yukito had been waiting for it for the last seven episodes and he didn’t want to miss even the smallest detail; he was sure that everything about that scene would be important later in the story. His focus was completely stolen by the show and everything else was forgotten for some long, long minutes.

And that was why the boy nearly jumped out of his skin when the bell of his house rang, letting the half-eaten cookie slip from between his fingers.

It took him only a second to recover from the startle. He quickly paused the video and retrieved the cookie from the table, throwing it into his mouth, before heading to the front door, still chewing on the sweet. Being a little past eleven now, Yukito could only think about one single person who would come to visit him this late at night - and it made his heart singing inside his chest.

He hurried to open the door, and there was no surprise when he found Touya waiting outside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his heavy coat and a soft smile touching his lips.

“Hey!”, his boyfriend greeted him so casually, as if he wasn’t clearly freezing in that cold night.

“Touya!”, Yukito exclaimed his name for both the pleasure of saying it and as slight scold. He gave a step aside. “Hurry inside or you’ll end up getting sick!”

Touya wasted no time and complied. While Yukito closed and locked the door again, Touya carefully landed his backpack on the floor right before taking off his shoes, placing them besides his boyfriend’s ones.

“What are you doing here?”, the silver-haired boy asked while helping the other to take out his coat, which was slightly wet from the light snow that was falling outside. “I thought your shift at the restaurant would only end around midnight.”

“Things were too slow today, so my boss decided to close earlier.”, Touya casually passed his hands through his damped hair, shaking it softly. He had strongly regraded not having brought with him an umbrella or at least a bonnet.

Yukito quickly run to the cupboard to fetch a towel for him.

“If you have some spare time, you should have gone home and rested. You’ve been working harder than the usual this week.”, he said, handing the towel to Touya. It wasn't like he wasn't happy to see the other boy. Not at all. The week had been so busy that they had barely had time to meet outside the few classes they share together. However, Yukito couldn’t help but worry about Touya and his health; he would gladly sacrifice some of their time together if that meant that Touya was getting a proper time to rest, recovering all the energy he had spent between classes and all his numerous part-time jobs. He knew his boyfriend was strong, but he was still human.

“I think I can rest here pretty well, can’t I?”, Touya put the towel round his neck and gave a step forward to close even more the already short distance between them. Gently, he touched Yukito’s face, a cold hand on a warm skin, giving to both of them a pleasant shiver. Looking unbothered by the coolness of his boyfriend’s hand, Yukito covered it with his own hand, rubbing his cheek against Touya’s palm as if to lend it some warmth in a tender, affectionate gesture. As tender and affectionate as the smile they both wore on his lips. “Besides, I am home.”

Yukito’s eyes widened for a moment, his face feeling suddenly hot; he wasn’t waiting for a response like that. He felt a bubbling sensation being born inside his stomach and rise through his throat, taking the shape of a soft, cheerful giggle. “Tou-ya, you’re such a sappy!”

“Who are you calling sappy?”, Touya frowned, using the hand he was resting on the other boy’s face to pinch his cheek lightly. He looked annoyed, but Yukito knew it was only a facade; he could see all the softness around his boyfriend’s dark eyes, at the tips of his thin lips, almost imperceptibly turned upwards. And it only made him laugh even more.

Seeing Yukito like this made Touya’s frown melted into the fondest of the smiles. The urge of kissing the silver-haired boy he always feels whenever he sees his face – or thinks about him – only intensified at the that moment and Touya decided to just go for it. He leaned forward, now with both of his hand gingerly cupping Yukito’s face, bringing him closer and closer and closer, so ready to taste his lips once again, always so soft and sweet.

But the kiss never came.

“No! No! No! Rest first, kisses second!”, Yukito declared and ,with an unexpected quick movement, he turned his boyfriend around before putting his hand on his back to gently lead him to the living room.

“Yuki, what the…”

“You go rest and I’ll make some sandwiches and pour some tea for us. You can kiss me as much as you want later.”

“Fine.”, Touya agreed in defeat. It wasn’t exactly what he had planned, but it sounded good enough for him.

Touya took a place at the kotatsu, finishing drying his hair while listening Yukito in the kitchen preparing their snacks. He thought about offering some help to his boyfriend, but he quickly dismissed the idea; Yukito had insisted so much to him to take a rest that the boy would, for sure, kicked him out of the kitchen in no time. Without much to do, he stared at the laptop over the table, finding a paused image of what looked like an intense fight scene on its screen, and started trying to guess what this show was about.

It didn’t take much time for Touya to start feeling bored. He started darting looks at the open door, as if doing so Yukito would hurry up and come back to keep him company. He had been craving his boyfriend presence during that entire hectic week; they had had so little time to spend together these past days and Touya was eager to compensate for the lost time, for all the hugs and kisses and smiles they wasn’t able to share throughout the week.

A few more minutes had passed and Touya decided that being scolded and kicked out of the kitchen by Yukito would worth it.

However, none of it came to him.

“Ah, Toya! Great timing!”, exclaimed Yukito, his hands holding a tray piled up with half dozen sandwiches. Resting over the sink top, another tray was waiting to be picked up, this one carrying two mugs and a steaming teapot. The sweet essence of the tea was hanging on the air, hitting Toya’s noise with the fresh smell of peaches and mint. “Can you pick the other tray, please?”

Carrying a tray each, Touya and Yukito came back to the living room and, without any waste of time, they set the table for their almost-midnight snack, sitting shoulder to shoulder under the heat of the kotatsu. Touya asked about the movie on the laptop screen and Yukito gladly talked all about it while they were eating, making sure to avoid any greater spoilers.

“That show sounds pretty cool.”, Touya said, between a bite and another. If he were being honest, he wasn’t sure if the plot of the show actually sounded that great or if it was Yukito’s enthusiasm about it that picked up his interest on it.

“If you want to, we can watch it together! I wouldn’t mind rewatching the previous episodes with you.”, his smile was so warm, so cozy when he made the offer that Touya found himself completely unable to answer anything but yes.

“Sure! Do you wanna start right now?” and the silver-haired boy didn’t need any other word to draw his laptop closer and click back on the very first episode of the series.

Rewatching the show was still pretty fun, but having Touya by his side was the best part of it. And it wasn’t only because now he had someone to share his thoughts about it. Having Touya’s arm around him, involving his body with his warmth, his scent, his strong but gentle presence, filled Yukito’s heart with the coziest of the feelings.

He felt whole. He felt safe.

He felt at home.

The same could be told about Touya. The boy could feel all the tiredness of the week melting away, leaving his shoulders lighter and his chest full of warmness and the sweetest peace. He nestled his boyfriend comfortably into his arms and rested his cheek on the top of his head, breathing slowly, absorbing Yukito’s presence and letting it impregnate his lungs, his heart, his whole being.

It was like magic; something fantastic and hard to describe, but so easy to feel – to get immerse in.

Yukito was his safe place and Touya always does his best to be the same to Yukito.

In their small, quiet world, Touya could finally feel truly relaxed, leaving all the stress and exhaustion from that long, long week behind and embrace the serenity of the moment. He allowed his body to go limp and his eyelids to get heavier and heavier, giving in to a sweet sleepiness state.

“I think we should go sleep.”, Yukito suggested, a hint of laughter in his voice. “We can watch the rest of the show tomorrow.”

Touya yawned. “Good idea.”

The taller boyfriend unwrapped his arms from around the other to stretch his body a bit, letting the silver-haired boy free to lean toward and close his laptop. But, before he could do anything else, such as get up and start cleaning up the table, Touya enlaced his waist once again, keeping him close to himself.

“Hey, don’t think I forgot about the kisses you’ve promised me!”, Touya smiled and cupped Yukito’s face with one of his hands, his thumb tenderly stroking his boyfriend’s cheek.

Yukito’s eyes lighted up like a moon finally appearing from behind a thick layer of clouds; so bright, so beautiful, so powerful against the darkness. Toya nearly lost his breath when he smiled back at him, the same smile that made him fall in love so many years ago. Sweet and vibrant. So sincere and genuine, coming from his core and growing until it blossom into his lips.

Those warm, soft lips that Touya was dying to kiss. So, that was what he did it.

Toya leaned forward and kissed Yukito exactly the way he was waiting for the whole day: slowly and affectionate, enjoying every single second of it. There was no hurry; they had all the time in the world - their private world. They could just allowed themselves to get lost in each other’s touch, to dive in each other’s warmth, in the sweetness of the other’s mouth. To Yukito, Touya’s lips had always tasted like peaches, but, somehow, they tasted especially sweet that night; he wondered if the tea they had had earlier would have something to do with that. Coincidentally, Touya found Yukito’s lips softer than ever, more tempting than ever.

“Satisfied?”, Yukito asked with a soft giggle when their lips parted. Even with their mouths parted, they kept their faces close, forehead to forehead, the tip of their noses softly brushing to the other in a loving gesture, while their bodies followed the example and still tangled in an embrace so tight that one could feel the other’s heart beating fast against their own.

“Not quite. I could have a dozen more of it, but I’m so tired right now that I think I’ll save them for tomorrow.”, as to emphasize his words, Touya closed his eyes and let his head slowly slip until it found the curve of Yukito’s neck, resting there with a content sigh. He could feel his boyfriend’s body shaking in a quiet laughter.

Yukito landed a gentle kiss on the top of Touya’s head, whispering against his dark strands: “They will be waiting for you in the morning.”

Hearing those words, Touya smiled and released the weight of his tired body over Yukito’s. Caught by surprise, the silver-haired boy’s body easily gave in with the sudden extra weight and lay down on his back with his boyfriend on his top, making both boys laugh.

Touya rested his head on Yukito’s chest and hugged his wait, while Yukito wrapped his arms around his shoulder, using one of his hands to stroke Touya’s hair in the most tender way, giving his boyfriend some pleasant goosebumps.

“We should go to bed, you know? Or we’re gonna catch a cold.”, Yukito said, but made no effort to get up or made his boyfriend to do so.

“We’ll be fine. We have the kotatsu and each other to keep ourselves warm the whole night.”, Touya’s voice was heavy with sleep, getting lower and lower with every word he said. Yukito only answer was a soft giggle and another kiss on his head.

They both felt so comfortable, so in peace resting in each other’s arms. They let the pounding of the other’s heart be their lullaby, leading them to a sweet slumber.

“Tou-ya~!”, Yukito called him with what was left of his consciousness.

“Hm?”

“Love you.”

Touya smiled to himself. “I love you, too.”

#Cardcaptor Sakura #CCS #Kinomoto Touya #Tsukishiro Yukito #Touyuki #Touya x Yukito #Fanfic #Fic #AO3

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astrovian · 3 years

Text

the official ranking of RA photoshoot outfits (pt. 1)

as @dykethorin said when I first proposed doing this particular ranking, “Some real Decisions™️ were made” with these shoots y’all

all photoshoot outfits (for part one) under the cut

the official ranking of Daniel Miller outfits here

the official ranking of Adam Price outfits here

the official ranking of Claude Becker outfits here

guys, I’m crying with laughter

hey quick question: what the fuck was this photoshoot??? (and also I need current RA in these poses)

it’s real nice to see a fun, loosey-goosey RA (before he established himself in the broody-character archetype) but there are so many questionable fashion choices here

when I started this list I had two options:

1) allow some leeway to the older photoshoots because, let’s be real, the early 2000s were an atrocious time for fashion that a lot of us would most rather forget we participated in

2) judge them by today’s standards, which is harsh but some of these outfits deserve it

naturally, I chose option #2

It’s so hard to even pick where to start. the too-loose pants? the ill-fitting suit jacket? The untucked dress shirt that is for some god-forsaken reason undone in two separate directions??

I have chosen one thing that sums the outfit up as a whole: what monster decided to put the shirt collar over the suit jacket????

the jazz hands scream “hey I’m a FUN guy” but the suit screams “I’m the yo-pro asshole at the office who is so unreliable you’re pretty sure some nepotism must surely have had an influence during the hiring process”

I originally said ‘I guess we should be glad there’s no surfer necklace’ but then I had the horrifying realisation that it’s a 50/50 shot as to whether that would improve this outfit or make it worse. and you know when there’s even slimmest chance a surfer necklace could improve an outfit somehow that it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself

1/10 just because this photoshoot made me genuinely laugh out loud

wait I’m sorry, what-

how on god’s green earth is this the same photoshoot (?) as guys, I’m crying with laughter????

the great thing about these lists is that you are getting my genuine reactions as I progress down the images. I had no idea this was the same photoshoot (?) until approximately 10 seconds after writing guys, I’m crying with laughter

this perfectly encapsulates the duality of man – one moment it’s all goofy jazz hands and the next it’s a hunk-of-the-week moment

this man and guys, I’m crying with laughter are the equivalent of looking at pictures of yourself in high school vs. in your 20s/30s/at your prime. the whiplash is insane

and why is he in front of barred windows?? it appears they were afraid of what would happen if this hunk escaped into the general population

I still can’t believe they kept the collar over the suit jacket though

I’m so conflicted guys, the urge to numerically rank this terrible outfit is strong but uh… as per usual shirtless ones aren’t fair/10

revenge of the killer surfer necklace

do you ever look back at a specific moment in time and are so thankful that someone took one tiny action? one small thing they did in the heat of the moment that probably seemed innocuous at the time but had far-reaching consequences? for example, it might something as simple as deciding to take a umbrella on a bright sunny day only for it to be extremely useful on the way home when the weather turns

this is how I feel about the person who decided RA could leave that top button closed for this shoot

if you squint, you can see the surfer necklace under that top button. and thank god you have to squint

this is such an early 2000s look though. that shirt by itself is fine and would actually look killer with a properly fitted suit nowadays. it’s the shirt dress and loose denim look with makes no sense to me

2/10 for a pretty uninspiring early 2000s outfit

revenge of the uh…

from the same shoot as revenge of the killer surfer necklace this loses .1 of a mark for adding a jacket, while pretty innocuous, to an already busy outfit

1.9/10

were we really that afraid of legs?

why were we, as a society, so obsessed with loose, ill-fitting pants? why were we so desperate to conceal legs from the general population? what secrets were we trying to hide? I understand the comfort factor on the hand, but on the other did anyone actually have eyes

the sneakers/suit combo I can definitely live with. but those pants (that I’m convinced must be pyjama pants in another life) turns it all into a sloppy, blurry mess

2.7/10

is it a bird? is it a plane? no, it’s… a floating RA?

what is it about photoshoots in the early 2000s where they just make no damn sense. it’s my opinion that the theme/concept of a shoot should not overshadow the subject, and that’s the correct opinion (as well as being the exact opposite as to what’s happening here)

maybe there was a hint or reason as to why floating wizard RA exists in the article that this shoot presumably came with, but I don’t get it. clearly I’m far too literal of a person and need to embrace my inner artist

looks pretty, still weird

moving on the entire point of this post, the outfit, I uh,… oh god

I’m pretty sure this the same (and similar, if not) outfit RA wore in the North & South behind-the-scenes, and how we as a society went from John Thornton’s stiff collar and top hat to this is amazing

maybe we were so obsessed with period dramas back then because it was a nice alternative to indulge our eyes in when we had to face the harsh, cold reality of modern fashion at the time

anyway – trust me, while I am all for a man in a necklace, let’s pray surfer necklaces never come back 2.9/10

I genuinely was looking up “pinstriped jacket jokes” because I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head but then I realised I don’t need a joke here because pinstriped jackets are a joke all by themselves

I feel like there may be a situation where pinstriped suit jackets might grow on me, but this is not that situation

also I don’t really know where I stand on the belt, but I certainly think I’m leaning towards the ‘why’ part of the scale. if you’re gonna make a belt that prominent in a photoshoot, at least make it a fun belt

3/10

I’m noticing a trend in these photoshoots and it’s these horrific backgrounds

I will admit that the non-patterned suit jacket is going with the jeans a lot better here. but now that my attention isn’t focused on that, all I can see are the dress shoes. WHY DID YOU PUT DRESS SHOES WITH STRAIGHT-LEGGED JEANS???

please someone I am begging you, can we as a society get to tapered jeans already

3.3/10

did RA genuinely ever get put into any clothes that actually fitted him properly at this point in time?

look, I know I’ve been picking on the bootcut jeans & loose attire that plagued us in the early 2000s (or 2006, to be specific to this photoshoot). what can I say, it’s the low-hanging fruit. or loose-hanging, as the case may be

I do appreciate that rich brown leather jacket and that smile. but that’s where it stops. someone take dress shirts and dress shoes away from bootcut denim PLEASE

3.5/10

this is the bad-boy from your hometown in every rom-com ever

as with well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of below, the lower rating is simply because from what we can see, it’s just a plain shirt. however, that dipped v-neck? mm-mmm

look at that smirk. this man knows what he’s doing to us, dammit.

why do you persist in hurting us this way 4/10

well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of

god bless the person who said we need this shirt wet and clinging and only half-soaked

I’m so sad that I have to give this such a low ranking because uh… we’ve established I have a weakness for those biceps

this does also get bonus points for the creativity of “only this portion of your shirt needs to be wet for your close-up” but at the end of the day it is a solitary grey t-shirt even if it is floating in an attractive sea of muscles

4.5/10

the photographer really said ‘who gives a crap about the clothes’, huh?

an interesting shirt! but as much as I love RA’s face, we should be able to see more of the shirt (and the outfit) because uh… it’s hard to make a judgement call on a photoshoot outfit without that

also, it’s just so hard to concentrate on some of these with RA staring into my soul like that

*sigh* 4.6/10

hello sir, are you as kinky as your shirt?

this is one of the few occasions on which I will give the bootleg baggy jeans a pass. interesting choice to go shoeless for all outfits in this shoot – but the way the shirt is all crumpled is annoying me an incessant amount. I am begging you, someone pass this stylist an ironing board PLEASE

4.7/10 for a crinkle-cut RA

all that’s missing is the beer cans

I’m not sure of the short sleeves here. I think with the shirt open as well my brain doesn’t know where to look

HOWEVER, this is an RA from the early 2000s that I can get behind – largely because he’s not drowning in his denim

the nice, plain belt which matches with the shirt? excellent

interesting choice to go with the bare feet – this entire look (and the quality of that concrete floor) screams ‘we’re chilling at a summer party in your parent’s basement in the early 2000s’ if not for one thing – that couch is way too nice looking. am I being too pedantic about this? no. If you’re gonna go for the whole basement party look, you need a couch that’s falling apart and has at least one questionable stain on it

that being said, I would hang out in this man’s basement

it’s a shirtless one so once again, I cannot give a numerical answer/10

I’m not sure if this man is dangerous or is just an idiot

they may have been wanting RA to embrace his inner Daniel Miller here but that is NOT a jacket that should have its collar popped or if it is, it definitely should not be popped that much. just turn the intensity of that pop down by… at least 35%

this look is telling me to embrace my inner lacy, ruffled collar that men in England used to wear around the 1500 - 1600s. I hate it and refute it with every part of my soul

this is what happens when you embrace your inner Daniel a little bit too much 5.6/10

the return of the leg monster

not much to say about this except once again we are terrified to put RA’s legs into well-fitted pants. what secrets are hiding underneath those voluminous billows? will we ever know?

5.8/10

the one that crushed my hopes and dreams and then spat on my corpse

so I admit it, I got really excited because I thought that this was a leopard print shirt and I was like “this is something I did NOT know that I needed until right now”, even if I would argue that it could have been nice in a little bit of a brighter colour. no matter, I thought it was a nice subtle addition to this plain suit and was just very excited at the prospect of RA rocking leopard print even though I almost always hate leopard print in single every form it comes in

and then. upon zooming. a disappointing paisley. sorry, paisley lovers. I hate it

I would also argue here that the pocket square would have been nice in a plain, bright colour rather than another patterned item thrown into the mix. come on stylists, stop letting me down with your pocket squares

also if there is a point where a suit can be too shiny, I think we’ve found it. I could wax floors with that fabric and I’d rather be thinking about RA’s talent & good looks rather than imagining him being used as a human mop

the hand porn is uh… strong with this one 6/10

the hand porn one

the ring is a nice subtle touch but I can’t decide where I stand on this tie. for me, the checks are just a *wee* tad too small. so small that it I’m scared it will turn into one of those optical illusions with a number in it if I stare at it the tie for too long

the pocket square could also have not tried so hard to blend in with the rest of the suit jacket. give me some colour, baby!

Richard really needs to put his hand down so I can actually concentrate on the clothes 6.5/10

I’m just dotty for this one (I’m so sorry y’all)

so suave. so shiny. I wanna stroke that fabric so bad, it looks so soft

the dots bring a nice yet understated touch to a monotone outfit and GOOD LORD those thighs

they just had to pose him like this to torture us, I’m convinced. also they call him a “commanding gentleman” in the subtitle which is really just unnecessary to verbalise when he’s sitting like this

Someone put me in a rom-com with this man 7.2/10

the modern magician (at least he ain’t floating this time)

I know that the hat should be the focus of this shoot but I can’t get over those shoes

tangentially related, I have never understood why they make men’s dress shoes so excessively long and pointed. these certainly aren’t a good example of this but uh… I don’t understand why men’s dress shoes are clown shoes

I think part of what’s throwing me off is the sockless look. normally I can handle (and even love) it with some shoes but there’s something about the hem of those jeans and those shoes that turn them into slippers when worn sockless

I love the two-tone scarf but what really excites me is the plaid shirt that we can barely see. I’m eternally sad that they had RA hid it in this pose. and also, come one. you could’ve at least gotten a chair with an actual back to it. that can’t be good for his back at all

the one bonus of this outfit is the hat because when do we ever get RA in hats?? and hats that aren’t baseball caps?? a nice, rare touch. but also one which hides most of that face so…

can we talk about the fact that my gut tells me those jean cuffs have been deliberately turned up at the front and all I want in life is to reach into this image and flip them down 7.5/10

*pterodactyl noises*

holy macaroni. that demin shirt. and this shirt’s even a nice lighter denim colour??? and the v-neck?? SIR

I know he’s worn some faux-denim shirts in the last few years (see: Uncle Vanya rehearsal pics) but as outerwear? knocked it out of the park in this one

also I know this is a shirt not a jacket, but this shirt made me think about how I never realised how much I needed RA in jean jackets until today

It could be argued that a nice crew neck cut would work slightly better than the v-neck but that’s really a personal choice

a lovely respite for my weary eyes 7.7/10

a truly, truly blessed image. the sort of image that would bring you endless good luck

I know I’ve given a lot of pants crap on this list but these. these are the ones. these are doing the lord’s work for sure. and god bless the person who decided to shoot from this particular side angle.

and then the shirt?? I’m honestly afraid it may rip if he moves. I could leave or take the tie though. it’s not adding a whole lot to this outfit and I would much rather that shirt be uh… open at the top for a glimpse of uh… well. you know.

this RA outfit laughs in the face of all those early 2000s RA outfits 8.1/10

me running to open my phone every time an RA-related notification pops up

my only sadness is that this shoot was in black & white. we need more action-shot RA shoots!

also the subtle plaid?? *chef’s kiss*

well, I said ‘my only sadness’ but is it also me or are both ends of that tie strangely square? that is throwing me off from an otherwise spectacular photoshoot outfit, I won’t lie

8.5/10 for a man of action

this is what we all like to think we look on the way to work. hate to break it to ya - we don’t

god, that wind-ruffled hair. the rustic look provided by both the suit material & the photo editing. that stare over the top of that coffee mug. the casual ‘I just picked up the paper on my way out this morning’

words fail me

would it be weird if I said I would pay money to be able to run my hands through anyone’s hair that looks as soft and wind-swept as that 8.9/10

the comfiest RA

I love. love. love this outfit, especially the sweater. the pant colour goes extremely well with this one and I’m so glad they didn’t just stick him in jeans. the is the softest, comfiest RA and I love it. this is an RA who you can simultaneously share a beer and takeaway with at home, cuddling up on the sofa while you watch a film, as well as an RA who will take you out to eat fancy pasta at an upscale restaurant.

the choice of sitting on a stool is also great. my only real gripe here is the watch (and even that’s a minor one, really). the watch isn’t THAT bad, but it’s chunky face reminds me slightly of the watches boys in my class would wear in middle school. the watch could be a *wee wee tad* slicker, but really, I’m nitpicking here (and this is the only time I will admit to it)

the more I look at it, the more this becomes one of my fav RA pics. the slight smile. the relaxed pose. the hint of hand porn

weirdly, for some reason this picture gives me the exact same comfy and ‘just chilling out’ feeling as when I hear the song “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer 9.5/10

#richard armitage #yes this is a multi-part one because uh... there's a lot of photoshoots guys #also yes most of the early 2000s ones ended up at the bottom and I refuse to apologise for that

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anthonyjlockwood · 3 years

Note

running fingers through hair + Alex/Luke/Willie 💜

thank you for the prompt, anon!! 💜

here it is on ao3!!

Luke is having a terrible, terrible day.

He doesn’t really know why it’s been so bad, either. But it started off with yet another fight with his parents at breakfast, and then he’d forgotten his song book at the house and had to go back for it, which led to another argument about why he was “wasting away his Saturday playing with that band of his.”

On his bike ride over to the studio, it started to rain, and the cutoff tank he was wearing was decidedly not waterproof, so halfway through the quarter-mile ride, he was drenched.

He just wants to forget about his parents, and the rain, and play music with his friends.

But even that idea is soured when he walks into the studio. Willie’s there alone; it doesn’t look like Alex, Bobby or Reggie have arrived yet.

Luke stops in the doorway once he sees Willie, suddenly feeling very hot despite the cold rain that’s making his shoulders shake.

He doesn’t like to use the word “jealous”, ever. He also doesn’t like to use the word “avoiding”. But over the past few weeks-- months, really, if Luke’s honest about it-- he’s gotten this really strange feeling in his stomach when he’s around Willie. And when it’s Willie and Alex together, that’s almost worse.

He’s not sure if it’s the whole “third wheel” concept that bothers him; he doesn’t think so, because Reggie and Bobby have been together for months, too, and it’s never bothered Luke to be around them.

But being around Willie and Alex together is… strange. It almost feels like Luke’s missing something, or missing out on something. Like when he forgets his favorite hot dog topping combo and only realizes once he starts eating that while the food is still good, it's not right.

Luke shakes off any awkwardness along with the last drops of rain, and throws Willie a smile that he hopes looks effortless.

“Hey.”

Willie looks up at his voice and smiles back immediately. He’s one of those people who just can’t not smile, and his happiness is like an airborne case of the measles. Luke catches it like a frisbee and can’t help throwing it back.

Something inside him relaxes a little, despite the lingering stress of the fight and the tension of the cold. His muscles ease with a shiver. “Where is everyone?”

“Alex and Reggie are inside with Ray, helping him set up the new T.V. he bought. Bobby’s not here yet… He said he’s gonna be late,” he lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think he and Reggie had a fight or something.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around,” Luke sighs.

Willie gives him an understanding smile. “Emily again?”

When Luke doesn’t respond, he tries again. “Why don’t you come sit?”

This, at least, Luke can do; he doesn’t want to talk about his terrible day and the terrible things he and his mom said to each other. But he finds that he does want to sit next to Willie, and let his friend’s positive, easygoing nature cover him up like an umbrella, shielding him from the negative thoughts running through his head.

He walks over to the couch, kicks off his shoes, and collapses on it dramatically.

Willie doesn’t indulge his theatrics, though. He just shuffles closer to Luke on the couch and says, “Y’know, I snuck out to come here. Caleb didn’t want me leaving the house.”

Willie’s uncle Caleb-- his legal guardian-- was a buzzkill on a good day. On worse days, he’d try to hold Willie hostage in his room… Luke didn’t know if it was a control thing, or what, but if Willie had to sneak out for this, he knows it must not have been a good day.

“Caleb’s been acting really weird lately,” he goes on.

If there’s one thing Luke can say about Willie, it’s that he has a knack for filling silences. He knows when other people around him are feeling uncomfortable, or if they just don’t want to talk at all, and he fills in the silence effortlessly.

Luke’s no introvert, really, but on his bad days when his mind is in the neutral gear and no matter how hard he hits the gas, he doesn’t go anywhere… sometimes he likes it when Willie takes over the driver’s seat.

“What’d he do?”

“He just… he’s so… controlling,” Willie says at length. “Needs to know where I am all the time, who I’m with. He asked me if I’m dating anyone new.”

Willie turns his head away to roll his eyes, but Luke notices. He’s heard about Caleb’s problems with Willie’s dating life-- all the questions, second-guessing Willie’s choices…

“And then, this morning, he asked me if I’ve ever thought about getting a haircut!” Willie complains. “Like, what the hell is that?! Could you even picture me with shorter hair?!”

The image of Willie with short hair has Luke laughing before he can stop himself. He claps his hand over his mouth-- Willie’s complaining about Caleb; the last thing he needs is to think Luke’s laughing at him-- but Willie sees anyway, and groans.

“This is not funny!”

Luke snickers. “Sorry, Rapunzel.”

Before he can realize what he’s doing, he leans forward.

Willie stiffens at his approach, but he doesn’t shy away as Luke gently brushes a hand through his hair. It feels soft and smooth under his fingertips, like a blanket. He relaxes under Luke’s touch and closes his eyes, going still as a statue.

Holy shit, Luke thinks. I’m petting my best friend’s boyfriend’s hair. What the--

He yanks his hand back, and the movement causes Willie to startle slightly. He looks up at Luke with wide, worried eyes. “What happened?! Is there a bug on me?!”

“N--no,” Luke chokes out. “It’s just… sorry. It’s just your hair.”

He lets out a low, awkward laugh and just prays for the moment to end, for the embarrassment to just see itself out like the unwanted party guest that it was.

But then Willie joins in on the laughter, and the sound fills up the room-- and Luke’s heart-- with a comfortable warmth that overshadows any regret that might’ve been there before. When their laughter finally fades out into silence, Luke misses it immediately. He isn’t sure why he’s feeling this way; usually, losing his mind over how cute Willie was is Alex’s jam. And it’s not like Luke hasn’t appreciated Willie for all that he is-- he’s just looked from a distance. Up until now, he’s been like one of those peacocks at the zoo, something that’s okay to admire from afar but impossible to touch, impossible to get close to.

“Willie--”

Alex chooses that moment to come back into the room, grimace on his face as he quietly shuts the door behind him.

“So… it doesn’t look like we’re having band practice today.”

“What? Why?!” Luke needs music like he needs air; especially right now, when all he wants is a distraction from these thoughts about Willie. Off-limits, his-best-friend’s-partner Willie, whose soft hair and easy grin are still taking up way too much space in his mind.

Playing music’s supposed to fix that, just like it has fixed every other thing that’s gone wrong in Luke’s life recently. Losing himself in his songs is the only surefire way that he knows to not think about his problems for a while. Running the band practice, making sure that Bobby’s guitar is tuned to perfection and that Reggie knows when to come in during the chorus… it’s those organizational things that distract him the best. Because even though everything’s going to shit inside his head, on the outside everything looks perfect. It sounds perfect. It’s all as it should be.

“Reggie and Bobby are still fighting because Bobby swatted at a bee on the way to the studio, and Reggie just stopped immediately to yell at him for it because ‘bees are essential to nature,’ and ‘they’re his friends,’ and he was offended. Bobby texted me all this.

“So now Reggie’s refusing to come to practice-- or go anywhere else with Bobby-- ‘til he ‘apologizes to the bees’.” Alex snorts. “So we won’t be seeing them for a while.”

He finally crosses the studio to the couch and settles himself down on Willie’s other side, dropping his bag to the floor. “So what have you guys been up to?”

“Not-- not much,” Luke stutters. “We were just--”

“Luke was just saying how gorgeous my hair is, how much he wants to run his fingers through it. He said it’s like the finest silk from China, the most glorious, flowing--”

“Shut up,” Luke chokes out a laugh. “Alex, we weren’t--”

Alex doesn’t seem too bothered, though. He grins at Luke easily and says, “Willie's hair really is something, isn’t it?”

Luke feels his cheeks turn cranberry red. “It-- it’s alright.”

“Alright?!” Willie asks incredulously. “I believe you compared it to Rapunzel. It’s Disney Princess-worthy!”

Alex lets out a poorly-concealed snort and shoves Willie playfully, knocking him into Luke like a domino. He shoots Luke a grin over his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“He’s modest, too!”

“Luke said he’s gonna be our Prince Charming!” Willie says with glee.

“Luke, why didn’t you tell me you liked Willie’s hair so much?” Alex teases.

“Hey, it’s only fair,” Willie protests, with an impish smirk that sends shock waves through Luke’s small intestine. “If I have to listen to you wax poetic about Luke’s arms all day, you should be able to handle-- appreciate, even-- that Luke thinks my hair is sexy.” He flips his hair, for dramatic effect, and winks at Luke. “‘Cause it is, you know. He’s absolutely right, and he can say it!”

“You’re relentless,” Luke grumbles. His face feels like a campfire.

“Willie!” Alex’s eyes widen, his own blush sprouting on his cheeks now, like Fourth of July fireworks. “You weren’t supposed to--”

“It’s fine, Hot Dog,” Willie chuckles. “I think Luke feels the same way about you. Right, Luke?”

“Wait, what?!” Luke splutters. “I--”

Luke stops himself, because he was about to deny that, and… he’s not fully confident in his answer, anyway.

He and Alex tried something, years ago, way back before Alex even met Willie… but Luke had been scared back then. He was still scared now-- the prospect of crossing that line from friendship to more, when so much was at stake… their friendship, the band. Luke’s sense of security.

He can’t still like Alex. He shouldn’t like Willie.

And liking both of them?

Alex and Willie are still staring at him, still waiting for the answer that would make or break the entire afternoon. And Luke opens his mouth to say no, to try to salvage whatever he has left of Alex’s friendship, of his own self-respect… but apparently his brain and his heart and his mouth are not all on the same page, because the word that leaves his lips is, “Yes.”

He braces himself for the impact; for Alex’s eyes to widen in realization. For him to try to backtrack, say that Willie hadn’t meant what he said. For Willie to use whatever paranormal charisma skills he seemed to possess to try to get them all back on track-- to make some sort of joke or change the subject.

He even prepares himself for one of them to tell him to leave. He wouldn’t blame them, honestly.

But none of that happens. What happens is that Alex steps forward slowly, shakily, and looks at Luke with a strange expression-- fear, confidence, and desire all morphed into one.

Luke’s never seen Alex look like that before, but the sight of it sets his heart pounding in his rib cage again.

“Can I… can I try something?”

Luke nods, so Alex steels himself and grabs Luke by the wrist, pulling him in and smashing their lips together.

The kiss is warm, and fast, and Luke’s heart is beating out of his chest but the sleeves of Alex’s hoodie are soft against his bare arms. He pulls Alex closer, needing more of the unexpected comfort, and Alex obliges, swinging one hand around Luke’s head to hold it in place against his.

Eventually, Luke does need to pull back and catch his breath. When he does he finds Alex’s gaze on him intently; and behind him, Willie is watching carefully, too, braced for Luke’s reaction.

He just… he kissed his best friend. In front of his boyfriend! And neither of them look particularly bothered about it…

How the hell did Luke’s day turn into this? How did he get to this point, panting in the garage studio, sweat prickling against the back of his neck, Alex looking at him like that, fresh out of a kiss, and Willie… looking like he wants to join in?

“Shit, Alex,” Willie teases, letting out a trembling breath. “I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that.” His eyes settle on Luke. “Can it be my turn now?”

The kiss with Willie’s a lot different. It’s warm and soft and comforting like Alex’s was, but there’s an edge to it. Luke feels like a teenager again, almost; like he’s doing something he shouldn’t be… but that just makes him enjoy it all the more.

Kissing Willie is like speeding down a highway on a motorcycle-- he can feel the rush of the wind in his ears, the room spinning around him, but he feels grounded to the seat all the same.

It’s exhilaration; it’s jumping out of an airplane with no parachute, and the rush of it only makes Luke want more.

Luke still doesn’t know how his day had turned from bad to how it is now; full of possibilities, full of nerve wracking love and things Luke didn’t even realize he was craving.

When Willie pulls him back in for another kiss, Luke decides he doesn’t even care. He’s just happy to be along for the ride.

#julie and the phantoms #julie & the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #luke patterson #alex mercer #willie nolastname #lalexie #them 💜#i'm still taking these prompts if anybody wants to send one btw!

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austarus · 4 years

Text

Harry Wells x Reader Crisis of Infinite Wells (Part 2 of 5)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @marry-me-harrywells

Word Count: 4144

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You brushed your damp hair from any remaining knots, the remnants from the warm shower no longer lingering on your body. Taking in a breath, you smelled freshly of raspberry delight from your shampoo and conditioner combo. Nothing beats getting clean. Placing the hairbrush down, you braided your locks into a French Braid that Jesse had taught you to do. You sighed at the thought, turning to look at the picture frame that remained on your bedside counter. It was just last year that everything was ok. A shiver had gone down your spine.

The frame held a picture of you, Harry, and Jesse at a Christmas Gala back on Earth 2. Your fingers ran over the cool glass when you picked up the fame, taking a seat on your bed. Jesse and you had wide grins, thoroughly enjoying the night, while Harry had a small smile laced onto his face as he stood in between you both with an arm around you and her, a glint of light evident in his deep blue eyes. Harry and Jesse had been making progress on restoring his intelligence, something that Marlize DeVoe hadn’t done a great job of doing Jesse had commented. And much to the dismay of some of Jesse’s hero group, Jesse pushed forward with helping her father. Honestly, you knew Harry wasn’t just going to sit around and be an Average Joe. What was it that Cisco called them? Jesse and the Quicksters? Yeah, that sounds about right. You laughed to yourself a bit, remembering how Harry hated the name your friend had given Jesse and her group.

Vrr, vrr

Your phone vibrated, bringing you out of your thoughts. Lowering the picture frame into your lap, your fingers still danced over the glass pane. Picking up your phone, you saw a text notification from Cisco.

Ciscito: Hey, you still up? (10:45 PM)

You: Yeah, what’s up Vibe? (10:46 PM)

Ciscito: I think Chester and I made the necessary modifications needed to connect the Cerebral Inhibitor to the Mindscape machine. Schematics and diagnostics seem to be running smoothly, but without a test run we can’t be too sure. (10:48 PM)

Ciscito: Have you talked to Cecile? (10:49 PM)

You: Yeah, she said she’s free all of tomorrow, but if something were to come up she’d let me know. Also, I sorta got persuaded into babysitting Jenna next time Cecile and Joe need a date night, but that’s fine with me. (10:51 PM)

You: That’s why I’m going to have Harry and Sherloque, maybe even our salty German Wells be our fresh pairs of eyes for this. (10:54 PM) One wrong calculation and well…

Ciscito: Ugh, please don’t mention said Herr Wolfgang “stick-up-my-ass” Wells (10:55 PM)

Ciscito: You feeling ok? Need me to come over? (10:55 PM)

You: No, I don’t wanna steal you from Kamila. She’s going to need you with what she experienced in the Mirror Dimension. And Eva’s still on the loose. (10:55 PM)

Ciscito: But are you feeling ok? (10:55 PM)

You: Honestly, I’m scared Cisco. What if I’m wrong? What if all of this is wrong? Like I said I’m just a doctor, I don’t know if my thought process even works with the new rules of physics with this new timeline… What if I’m the reason that I don’t get to see Harry again? That we don’t get to see him and Jesse. (10:57 PM)

Ciscito: Hey! No! You listen to me, and you listen to me well. We’ve done this before. We didn’t think it was possible for multiple universes to even exist, but it did. Closing the breaches to trap Zoom, we figured it out with Harry. Nazis from Earth-X crashing the West-Allen Wedding suddenly happened, but then we saved the day with everyone. (10:59 PM)

Ciscito: Hell, we didn’t even know how to perform an exorcism until a couple of weeks ago! Scientifically might I add, despite all the things Cecile brought in. We Expecto Patronum-ed the shit out of Thawne. He’s just lurking around like the pissed off, red-eyed Voldemort that he is now. (11:00 PM)

Ciscito: My point is, have a little faith in yourself. If it’s anything that HR taught me, is that you don’t have to be a genius or a physicist to come up with a plan to save the ones you love. (11:00 PM)

Ciscito: Remember that. (11:01 PM)

You: Thank you Cisco, I really don’t know what I’d do without you. 11:01 PM)

Ciscito: Yeah, I mean, that’s why I’m here. All in a good day’s work, you know. Doing the Lord’s job, blessing others with my existence and advice. (11:02 PM)

You: Wow, Ciscito, I can practically feel the narcissism through the texts. (11:03 PM)

Ciscito: Is that what you still have me on your phone as? (11:04 PM)

You: You’ll never know~ (11:05 PM)

You: Goodnight Ciscito~! (11:05 PM)

Ciscito: Wait (11:06 PM)

Ciscito: No, this is serious! (11:06 PM)

Ciscito: CHANGE IT!! (11:06 PM)

***

With hurried footsteps, you entered into the Speed Lab seeing the Mindscape machine all set up with the Cerebral Inhibitor perched on a nearby table. Chester was working on creating some algorithms for Sally and the other STAR Labs Satellites while Cisco tinkered with the Neural Splicer. Nash was already in the room, hovering over them and messing with Cisco. The leather jacket you wore seemed to carry a bit more weight on your shoulders, you made a head nod at each of them. You peeled your jacket off, not being able to stand it against you anymore. Not really registering Chester’s chattering and enthusiasms to Cisco about opening up multiple dimensions and the endless possibilities of technological advancements that could come from such discovery, you took a seat on a mobile stool nearby. Running a hand through your hair, your brain rifled through your doubts. What if I end up frying Nash’s mind? A pang of hurt struck your chest because then not only would he be dead, but so would all the other Wells if your assumptions about due to their existence in his mindscape were correct consistent wavelengths. Their hypothetical blood would be on my hands.

Once Cisco had threatened Nash to leave him to work in peace, you approached the slyly grinning adventurer. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you.” You pocketed your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and gave him a small smile.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I guess for taking a chance on me and coming back. Even if you didn’t know what was going on.”

Nash pursed his lips for a moment, shaking his head for a bit, “Oddly enough, I had a gut feeling that told me an adventure always comes with your Team’s calls.” A cheeky laugh left him. “You guys just always go out looking for trouble, huh.”

*Speak for yourself,* you deadpanned in your thoughts, but let him continue.

“Lucky for you all, I happened to be available, so why not pop in. If this does work, then…” The dark-haired Wells trailed off, looking over the Speed Lab, “Then you get your Wells back. But-”

“-But?-” You raised a suspicious eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“You owe me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, little lady. You owe me and when the time is right,” he paused in thought, “I’ll cash that favor in.”

You scoffed and unfurled your arms, an incredulous look on your face, “What? Nash, you-”

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Cecile interrupted you, entering the labs with Baby Jenna in her stroller. You rolled your eyes at him, gesturing and mouthing that this conversation wasn’t over. Nash just smirked to himself. Heading over to Cecile, you gave her a hug. “Jenna gave me a bit of a tantrum getting dressed today.”

“No problem, thanks for doing this Cecile.”

“Always here whenever you guys need me.” The metahuman attorney gave Jenna a toy to stay preoccupied until this was over. Cecile turned back to you, a look that’s all too familiar crossing her face. “You couldn’t sleep.” You made a sheepish look before heading over to one of the computers, setting up the software to monitor physiological and psychological functions. Cecile followed close, reading you, “Or more like you didn’t want to sleep.”

You opened your mouth to speak only to be cut off by that motherly look she had on her face. Closing your mouth, you shut your eyes for a moment before reopening them, “I guess I was nervous. I mean, a lot’s at stake here, Cecile.”

“Uh -uh, what did I say about negative attitudes in my labs,” Cisco strode close, handing you the one MAD 2.0 after setting down the Neural Splicer. You stuck your tongue at him, “We want him back just as much as you, all of them, so don’t worry. We’re Team Flash. When have things not gone our way?” You and Cecile just made a face at him as he handed Cecile one MAD 2.0. “Actually, don’t answer that, anyway- Party people, let’s get a move on.”

You and Cecile put on the MAD 2.0’s meanwhile Cisco sedated Nash, who’s currently lying on a gurney and had the MAD 2.0 on already. Caitlin had told him the sedation would last a few hours, but would keep Nash’s body under normal cellular and molecular regulation. Making eye contact with Cecile, you nodded as if to say that you were ready. Your nerves spiked slightly in anticipation, the hairs at the back of your neck sticking up. She held a hand for you which you took, shutting your eyes in focus and allowing her to transport you into Nash’s mind.

***

Opening your eyes, you find Nash right in front of you before looking around. *I guess what you indulge in becomes your mindscape* you thought as your eyes scanned the cold-looking cave walls with lights hung up on them to illuminate the paths.

“Alright, I’ll be monitoring your vitals until Caitlin comes back, but in the meantime Cecile and I will be here in case anything happens,” Cisco voiced out to you and Nash, but you had stopped listening and pushed past Nash. But where? You had no clue, you just needed to start moving.

“Ah, hey-” Nash followed with quick steps until he was beside you. “Shouldn’t you be letting me lead the way? This *is* my mind and everything. I’d know it best.”

“Perhaps, but I didn’t see you moving. The one who’s supposedly quick on his feet as a multi-versal explorer.”

“Snarky, I can see why Harry would like you,” Nash let out a little laugh, his words making you grin slightly. “And it’s geological myth-busting, ah-thank-you-very-much.”

You pursed your lips for a moment and stopped, turning towards him, “Be honest with me Nash, do you think I’m being delusional about this?”

“Delusional? Never. Conflicted? Slightly. But hopeful,” he adjusted his jacket and started walking with you in toe, observing the caves and mentally remembering where he had last seen both Wells doppelgangers. “Even with that shred of doubt within you, I can see that you haven’t let it consume the hope you have left. Hope is important, it gives life meaning. How else would a physician such as yourself come up with a brilliantly thought-out plan?”

He glanced at you with a quirked-up eyebrow, sending you a witty smile that was oddly comforting. Maybe because he wore the face of the man you trusted the most. You smiled to yourself and looked on ahead. Hope, sounds something up Kara’s alley really. You both had passed by a couple of exits or cave-memory outlets actually.

“So, based off what Cisco told me when he exorcised Thawne out of you, each cave outlet has a memory of yours? Whether good or bad. And only you’d be able to get into it?”

“Give or take. Thawne apparently rifled through all my memories, so I’m less keen on having the others do the same.”

“Did you install a little battle droid or something, Solo?” You joked.

“Ha-ha, not exactly. And an adventurer never shares their secrets without getting something in return.”

“Touché, Nash. Touché.”

You two continued to walk for god knows how long (Cisco checked in to say that 35 minutes had passed since you’ve entered, and that Caitlin had finally returned) until voices reached your ears. Stopping in your tracks, you and Nash were currently on the top part of a slight rocky incline structure within his mind. He stopped beside you, squinting at the sight in front of him. From a good distance you can see a group of Wells, in an enclosed circle, heatedly discussing something with each other as insults and science-y words were thrown around. Very loudly, might you add. They were none-the-wiser about yours and Nash’s appearance. From afar, one wore a dark fedora and the other had platinum white hair while the remaining two had dark hair. One dark-haired Wells had their back facing you. Is… is that one wearing sunglasses inside a cave??? Your eyes widened as one of the voices distinctly made your heart jump: gruff, sarcastic, and full of irritation towards the other men.

“Oh my god,” fell out of your mouth in a shaky whisper, standing stunned in place. Your body refusing to even synthesize tears at this point.

At that same moment, Nash had turned his head towards you, reaching a hand out to stop you, “Ah, hey- (Y/N) don’t-” but you had already started running down the slight incline. Not too steep enough to pick up way too much speed, but good enough for you to keep running.

“Shit,” Nash cursed, yelling out to one of the Wells in the group that he can see clearly just as you had started running. “Sherlock!” Nash made his way down the incline albeit a bit slowly, gauging the forthcoming interaction with the group.

“Hm, its Sherloque,” Sherloque immediately perked up at the sound of the voice calling his name incorrectly, eyes easily spotting you in the dim-ish part of this mind-cave as you were closing in. “Uh, ’arry. ‘arry!”

“What?!”

“Incoming,” the detective quickly altered his doppelganger and pointed a finger behind him. “Incoming très vite!” The other two Wells turned as well with confused looks.

“What?” Those words left Harry’s mouth, turning his body around in one fluid motion only for your body to launch into his arms. Knocking the tall Earth 2 genius back a little, but not enough to have you both fall to the ground. Your arms wrapped around him tightly as your head buried itself in his chest.

Harry had stood there, the shock leaving his body after a second or so. His arms circling around you instantly, a soft expression crossing his face as his eyes shut. The dark-haired man breathed you in. Reopening his beautiful baby blues, he kissed the top of your head before you both pulled away slightly. A hand gently cupped your face while the other held onto your upper arm as if checking if you were an illusion or not. It always blew your mind to pieces and made your heart swell at the way he handled you. How his callous hands can manipulate machinery and tools, yet gently caress you as if you’re made of the most fragile material to ever exist on any earth.

“Hey,” he whispered in that gruff voice of his, eyes filled with such warmth at the sight of you. Your hands rested on his firm chest, a thumb rubbing the material of his black sweater. His thumb brushed your cheek, feeling the growing heat on your skin. Feeling you against him. It was weird. Your psyche self and his interacting like this in Nash’s mindscape, yet feeling utterly and impossibly real to the touch.

“Hi,” you responded with that silly star-struck grin never leaving your face, the heat on your cheeks growing. You might as well had heart eyes popping out of your face. You saw him check over you, seeing if the Crisis had done anything in any way to change you from what would have been something so familiar.

Sherloque had a small smile on his face at the reunion, Sonny had that wide smirk on his features before nudging the uptight German beside him. Said German only rolled his eyes slightly as he adjusted his glasses but knowing deep down that it’s nice to see someone else other than a Harrison Wells doppelganger. Wolfgang won’t admit it because it’s just not his style. Nash had stood a little back behind you, nodding at the three gentlemen as the couple in front of him literally forgot the existence of him and the other Wells men.

Sherloque cleared his throat, “Now is that anyway to say ‘ello to us, good doctor?”

You blinked snapping out of your trance with Harry, looking over to the rest. You and Harry broke apart from the hug with you doing a tiny excited wave, “Hey, sorry about that.” At the same time, Harry’s hand found yours and intertwined your fingers together.

“No problem, Doll,” Sonny responded in that Brooklyn accent of his. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

Wolfgang was the last Wells you made friendly eye contact with, but you noticed something. “I like-” you gestured to the slight facial hair on his face, “-the goatee thing you’ve got going on . It suits you.”

“Danke,” Wolfgang’s cheeks were dusted a slight pink color. He played with his glasses a bit.

“Now what brings a beautiful dame like you to these dark depths?” Harry shot a glare at Sonny for the pet names, he mistakenly held your hand a bit tighter and it made your heart beat a bit louder. You only raised your eyebrows at this Wells as he had spoken to you. Sonny just shrugged to which Harry narrowed his eyes even more. Oh, if looks could kill.

“We-” Nash started, stepping close to stand beside you while Harry was on the other side, “-have a proposition.” You five now stood in an enclosed circle.

You gulped, licking your lips and criticizing yourself for getting too caught up in the moment when every second should be spent on your theory, “I think I found a way to bring you guys back.” The Wells men froze, their eyes lighting up for a fraction before glancing at one another. Sherloque nodded at you. “Each and every one of you.” You snuck a peek at Harry, who’s eyes met yours instantly.

“Vell,” Wolfgang was the first one to break the silence that had shifted, “let’s hear it. Bitte.”

***

You explained your theory to them about multi-dimensions, the equipment that would be used, and what Team Flash had been doing so far. You couldn’t help but glance at Harry and Sherloque, receiving encouraging nods and a proud smile. “I just wanted to run this down with you guys because rewriting the laws of physics seems to be your area of expertise.”

Each Wells had their minds working through the information you had just given them, the cogs in their brains already turning in order to isolate a critical factor that can ruin it all.

“It shouldn’t be as tricky as multiverse hopping, amiright?” Sonny joked.

You gave a sheepish smile at the cheery Wells. I can ironically see why they call him Sonny. “I-I know I’m just a doctor, and- Barry and the others said it makes sense. Chester and Cisco are working to manipulate the Cerebral Inhibitor to the Mindscape while adjust the Neural Splicer for the Cerebral Inhibitor in order to return your psyche’s back to your bodies.”

“Aber ein problem,” Wolfgang interjected, gesturing with a hand while he had an arm crossed across his chest. “How are you going to take into account zhe dimensional breaches? Has Team Flash found ein dimension to extract it’s properties in order to make a sufficient extrapolator?”

“No,” you draw out your answer, “but that’s where you all come in.” Sherloque’s eyes held that curious glint as you continued, “All the Wells will be the key-”

“To opening up dimensional breaches to Earth-Prime.” The Frenchman finished. You nodded, biting your lower lip.

“Recording each entrance and cataloging it for future use in case something else were to happen,” Nash interjected, adjusting a gloved hand. Why does he wear those all the time?

“And it’s up to us, all of us to crack this… dimensional code. To solve a new problem,” Harry added on. You turned to him, your thumb rubbing his hand.

“Harry, you figured out how to close the breaches. Without a doubt, I have faith that you and the others can open these dimensions. That all these Earths are just hidden somewhere tricky to make us lose sense and hope of finding the ones we love.”

“But- and excuse my English- there’s a fuck ton of Wells and Earths in here and out there. How would efficiently cataloging even work with that much information and coordinates, my friends?” Sonny brought up an excellent point. One you hadn’t thought about because honestly you didn’t think you were gonna get this far. You were essentially at a loss for words.

Wolfgang cleared his throat, raising a pointer finger, “Ja, vell, before zhis crisis had occurred I created a neural memory chip in vhich I vas able to register every Vells across the multiverse from our strange und large Council. Basically, downloading zhe information into my own memory as vell as my psyche. Vas not easy, but after some time it vas a success.”

“Wolfgang, that’s amazing.” You said, feeling that hope inside you swell up again and taking down the pesky doubt that had been gripping your heart these past couple days.

“Danke, schatz.” The German Wells mumbled the last part to himself, but Sonny and Nash heard him. “I believe zhat a Council meeting ist overdue.”

“I guess, I should leave that to you guys.” You shrug your shoulders a bit, sadly letting go of Harry’s hand.

“Nein, halt-”

“Non, (Y/N)-”

“Hold on, doll-”

“Babe-”

Your eyes widened in confusion at there protest. “What?” Nash only rolled his eyes, crossing his arms because he really didn’t want to attend a stupid Council meeting with all those “idiots”.

“The others are…” Harry pursed his lips and glanced off a bit before looking at you. He didn’t want to say it.

“Stubborn? Irritably hardheaded? Unnerving?” You suggested and crossed your arms at you. “Yeah, I know. I’ve dealt with like four Wells already.” Harry raised an eyebrow at you, but he knows that his flaws were something you’ve grown to love and accept of him. As you’ve told him before obviously.

“Zhe ozhers vill need convincing-”

“-yeah, they’ll actually sit down and listen to ya, doll. Instead of getting at each other’s throats like the last couple of times and having all hell break lose like an all out mafia brawl.”

With confusion laced on your face at this new information regarding the council meetings you can see why Nash hates attending them. Your eyes wondered at Sherloque who had remained quiet in thought then to Harry. Each exchanged looks before Harry spoke up, “I think what this idiot is trying to say is that it’s best for you to propose the idea.” You opened your mouth to say something, but Harry cut you off. “I will be right beside you. Sherloque, Wolfgang, and I have sorta… taken charge of the entire council.”

“Like the Roman Triumvirate?”

“Just without the power-grabbing, backstabbing, and domination.”

“What about Sonny?” You all looked at the Brooklyn-accented Wells.

“Yeah, I actually don’t know why he hangs around us.” Harry deadpanned to which Sonny pouted with an eye roll.

“Hey, I’m your guys faithful secretary and advice guru, basically your hype man.” You had not seen Harry roll his eyes so much and so hard at the New York Wells. It made you want to laugh so much had your situation not been filled with a serious tone. “So, what do you say, doll?”

“I-” Your eyes danced to each Wells, sighing and looking down for a moment before locking your gaze onto Harry. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself,” you whispered.

“You won’t. Babe, I’ve got you,” Harry took your hand in his larger one once again, “Just like you’ve been by my side before.”

“Sherloque?” Calling his name snapped him back to reality, but it did not mean he had not been listening to you.

“100% with you every step of the way, petit fleur.” He tipped his hat at you, a knowing small smile on his face.

“Alright,” you let out a breath and shrugged. Harry grinned widely, especially at the fact that you would be staying longer. “Lead the way.” What else do I have to lose?

French and German Used:

très vite – very fast

danke – thank you

danke, kleine frau – thank you, little lady

bitte – please

und – and

aber ein problem – but one problem

petit fleur – little flower

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rant-2-me · 3 years

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My mental state has just worsened over the days, though I'm not sure why, and I just feel so unmotivated and lacking any energy to practice any self care other than napping, and also feel anxious because I'm not studying enough.. feel like I'm just 1/4th assing my responsibilities.. And when someone asks me how I'm doing, sometimes I blurt out that I'm not fine, and the guilt I feel afterwards for making them worry, so I find myself withdrawing from initiating conversation with them, even though I really want to, and this makes them worry about me more.. I just don't know anything anymore, everything feels too much, yet I can't rant in a clear conscience without feeling guilty for bothering them, and thinking how I don't deserve to complain because they have had so much worse (yes I know pain is relative, but I feel so horrible, like a whiny child, who doesn't know how to be content with her blessings)......

Sorry I know it's a lot.. feel free to delete it if it's triggering or making you uncomfortable in any way... I just needed to get it out..

My lovely nonnie, im so, so glad you sent this ask. and got it all out of your system. yeah this sounds cheesy but like ive been there, with not knowing how to reach out—im proud you had the courage to send this ask. girlboss vibes.

also this ask took a while to answer and im so so sorry about that, but I didnt want to do anything less than the best for you, so let's just jump right in <[:)

Lacking motivation, god I've been there, but doing self care is super super important so here is a how-to, hon.

How to do selfcare when you’re not motivated to:

1. Be a little “gross.”

Gross is in quotes because it’s so subjective, but you undoubtedly have a few behaviors you consider kind of gross regardless. Now’s the time to do them without judgment. For me, that’s meant showering less, eating weird food combos (sometimes in bed), and letting my brows and mustache grow magnificently unruly. For you, it could mean doing something you normally judge yourself for or cutting back on activities you only do for the benefit of others. Now is not the time to allow “socially acceptable” behaviors to rule you.

2. Eat whatever the hell you want.

This should be a rule always, but I’m not going to pretend there aren’t societal, social, and personal pressures that go into why we eat what we eat. Try to shut down the voice that judges or polices what you’re eating right now. We’re in the middle of a goddamn pandemic. If dinner has to be some slices of cheese and deli meat eaten in front of the open fridge, so be it. If you have a lot of cravings and are snacking more than you normally would, cool. If pre-pandemic you decided you were going to stick to a certain meal plan and it’s just not happening anymore? Don’t beat yourself up.

Yes, what we eat is connected to our mental health, and I don’t want to discount that—but if the stress of eating healthfully is making you feel like crap anyway, whether that’s because you can’t fathom cooking or don’t have the means to shop for certain foods during isolation, just eat the sleeve of Oreos and try again another day. It’s okay.

3. And wear whatever you want.

Or, more realistically, wear whatever you can. Even if it means wearing the same ratty sweatpants for a whole week. Or month. Maybe you started all this out aspiring to get dressed every day to work from home productively, or maybe you have a whole collection of comfortable loungewear you feel guilty for not utilizing. Whatever arbitrary rules and expectations you’ve set for yourself, you can throw them out.

On the other hand, maybe you need to quiet the voice that tells you there’s no point in getting dressed or feeling presentable. If it helps, by all means, play with your look, wear awesome or weird outfits, do your hair and makeup or whatever activity might feel a little silly given your current reality. In the middle of a pandemic, nothing is a waste of time if it makes you feel good.

4. Use shortcuts to avoid creating chores.

In my first week or so of working entirely from home, I was baffled by just how messy my apartment got. How on earth were so many messes piling up when I wasn’t even doing anything but working, sleeping, and eating? I hadn’t realized it, but a lot of my small tidying routines had become casualties to the pandemic. And, it turns out, slacking on the little ways I pick up after myself every day (such as doing the dishes right after I use them) added up quickly.

Instead of forcing myself to stick to the same levels of tidiness that I used to maintain, I’ve found shortcuts. For example, I use paper plates and plastic cutlery when I feel too fatigued to wash dishes so they don’t sit in the sink for days on end. Or I stick to the same two “outfits” to avoid clothes piling up when I’m too depressed to put them away every day. If you can find a small way to go easy on yourself, even if it feels a little wasteful or indulgent or gross, it’s okay to tap into those shortcuts right now.

5. Be kind to yourself if your place is messy or dirty.

I won’t lie: I’m someone whose space impacts my mental health a lot. Typically, keeping my apartment clean helps keep my mental health in check and letting my apartment get gross makes me feel worse. That’s still true in a lot of ways, but to adapt I’ve been trying to be mindful and accepting of where I’m at. And it’s…helped?

It turns out that taking the pressure off does a lot to mitigate the guilt and some of the other negative mental health effects I usually experience. In practice, it involves a lot of talking to myself. Instead of seeing my apartment turning into a depression cave and immediately thinking, “Oh, God, I need to clean up, this is so disgusting, I’m a monster for living like this, of course I feel depressed,” I go for kindness. I think (or even say out loud because, well, desperate times), “Of course my apartment is a mess right now. I’ll get to it when I get to it. I can handle the mess for now.”

6. Accept your new sleep schedule.

idk anyone whose sleep hasn’t been screwed in some way by all of this. Anxiety, depression, fatigue, pent-up energy from sheltering in place, tech use, new work responsibilities, screwy schedules…pretty much every aspect of our new reality can impact our sleep. Some people are sleeping a lot more, some are sleeping a lot less, and some are cycling through both extremes. Oh, and the temptation of naps! It’s all there.

Trying to maintain a healthy sleep schedule during all of this is a worthy endeavor—and more power to you if you’ve figured out how—but there’s a good chance that it feels impossible.

By “accepting” your new sleep schedule, I don’t mean pretending it doesn’t suck; I mean doing what you can to be gentle on yourself about it. For me, acceptance has looked like watching some comfort tv and reading my favourite books at 2 a.m. instead of staying in bed and anxiety-spiraling about how I can’t sleep. Is it ideal? No way. But I’m not going to waste energy stressing about something I currently can’t control.

7. Give yourself plenty of room to do absolutely nothing.

I’ve given myself permission to do a whole lot of nothing. That includes getting rid of the pressure to be productive and practice self-care, yes, but in a broader sense, it also means not forcing myself to actively “adjust” every day.

Some days, I just need to do nothing but feel my feelings. Or avoid feeling my feelings. Or stare at the ceiling. Give yourself space to do (or not do) whatever you need to.

also, nonnie? my love?

Never feel guilty about telling someone who cares about you when you don’t feel okay.

People who genuinely care about you—and I’m sure they are many—will care if you aren’t feeling good, there are always going to be people who care about you, who want you to be okay, that’s why they ask, why people make rant, why “how are you?” is such a common question.

But if you do need to talk, but you feel like you’ll “burden” people who you do talk to, here’s a guide to ranting.

Guide to ranting:

1. Pick the right person. Someone who’s in the right headspace to listen to you, you could also pick someone who cares about you—if you’re anxiety tells you nobody cares about you, pick someone who “should” care about you in your relationship, e.g: a friend you’ve had for a long time, a friend who’s told a few of their problems, or friend you might not feel close with, but seems very kindhearted and a good listener.

2. Pick the right time to talk to them, so you can have their undivided attention. If they are busy—as most people will be with something—they’ll have a hard time giving you good advice and listening to you. Ask them when they are free, and then ask them:

3. “hey, can we talk? I’m not mad or you or anything, it’s just that I have been not feeling great, and I just want to rant to someone about it.” and “No pressure to say yes, you might have your own stuff to do deal with.” to make sure they are the right person to talk to.

4. It’s ok to test the waters. Start slowly, you don’t have to share everything at once if you don’t want to.

5. You never know how your friend will react to what you say.While you can’t know how they’ll react, just remember that sometimes people’s initial reactions may come from a place of shock, surprise or not knowing what to say. Their initial reaction isn’t always their longerterm reaction, it may just take them a little time to process.

6. Look for ways to take action. Don’t get me wrong, ranting can be amazing for you, but on its own may not solve your problem.

But maybe venting to people isn’t for you. No matter! There are other ways to get out emotions:

Ways to rant without talking to anyone

1. Cry it out— simple and rewarding. When the baggage is just too heavy to carry cry it out. It can help you ease the pressure and ease your mind to think straight after days of holding that frustration in.

2. Work out — easy and fun. tire yourself out and release all the frustration in working out! This is going to be so satisfying for you as you try and punch, kick, balance, lift, and breathe those frustrations away.

3. Clean & rearrange — practical and can be fun. we get frustrated by so many things and one thing that can truly help clear our minds is to have a clean place where we can stay and live for the moment to breathe. Clean your room, rearrange your things and you’ll be surprised by the satisfaction this brings — a signal of a new beginning.

4. Scribble — simple and fun. Make scribbles, doodles, drawings, take a pen or a pencil, and let go. It does not have to be “good” art or professional at all. Just draw whatever comes to heart, sunflowers or clouds or rainbows—anything.

5. Write it down — fun and simple. Let those words out of your head and just live in the moment.

How to fight the lack of motivation.

1. Don't fight the lack of motivation.

If you feel down or unable to muster tons of energy, let it be ok. Be easy on yourself and acknowledge that it's ok to have a dip, especially at this time of the year.

2. Once you have accepted your slump, get to the bottom of it.

Ask yourself, "What is the root cause of this sluggish feeling?" Go deeper than the obvious reasons. Is it related to work? Your personal life? Relationships? It might also just be the weather. Get clear on what areas of your life you're feeling the most resistance.

3. Dig into that area. What is not ideal about this aspect of your life? What would make it better?

Make a list of how you'd like your current situation to improve--and be specific. If you truly can't find a reason to be less than enthusiastic, then accept your feelings and let them pass with time.

4. Take your list of what is missing and go through it.

What is holding you back from being able to create the things that are missing in your life?

5. Get support for creating the life you want.

Do some research and find an expert to help you. Even though they love you, friends and family aren't objective enough, and they tend to give advice that is a reflection of their own life and insecurities.

6. Think of current habits that are contributing to a less-than-ideal life.

Maybe it's fear, laziness, or not having enough confidence. Pick one to focus on.

7. Address this habit over the next 2 months.

They say it takes 28 days to create a new habit, but this varies from person to person. If you focus on it for two months, you are sure to build the neural pathways needed to call it a new way of being.

8. Buy a book, read articles or do some research on this particular behavior or feeling.

Read about the common causes of this habit as well as the proven ways to bust through and work around it.

9. Create a plan around shifting your current habit.

Make sure that changing this habit ultimately helps you move forward in the area of your life that is not ideal. The energy from clarity, awareness and then action will immediately get you feeling more motivated, no matter what.

10. When all else fails: make a list of activities that excite you, and do one of them right now.

Talk to a fun friend, dance around at home, workout, watch a funny YouTube video, tackle something on your to-do list. Accomplishing something will give you a hit of dopamine in your brain. If you're too overwhelmed by your day, sit for five minutes and meditate. Put on some soothing music and breathe.

okay, that's all nonnie, I hope you feel the lust for life in your lungs, please have all my love, i hope this helped, this ask took a while, but it was worth if it helps

and if you need to dont worry to send another ask, if you like spam the inbox!! queen!!!

take care, much love my sweet honey, bye <3

—*putting daisies in your hair as they leave* mod peppermint <[:)

#mod peppermint #ask #anon #rant

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terreisa · 4 years

Text

Love Down the Line: Chapter 4

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, AO3

~*CS*~

On the road between Boston and New York, May 9th

Emma knew she should be trying to wind down from the night’s show. When they arrived at their hotel she wanted to be able to head straight to her room and get some sleep. She just couldn’t seem to get the adrenaline to leave her system, even hours after the fact. It didn’t help that once they’d finished the encore they’d been ushered straight onto the bus and hit the road without a come down from the rush of performing again. Celebrating the successful start of the tour with Will, Tink and a few drinks probably hadn’t done much good either.

She was sitting at the small table in the little kitchenette of the bus with an open notebook, a leather bound one that was much nicer than the ones she used for her lyrics and bits of melody fragments, absently tapping her pen on the blank page. Will and Tink had gone to their own bunks to do whatever other post show rituals they had, leaving her to hers. Once the damn adrenaline wore off she knew she’d be able to concentrate on writing down her thoughts and feelings on the show but for the moment she was content to dwell in the electric buzz both the show and the alcohol had given her.

The first performance was always the one that made Emma worry the most. To her it set the bar for the rest of the tour. With the internet and social media the reviews were out in the world before the first song was finished. According to Regina one false move could have her right back at the small town bars within a hundred miles of Storybrooke for good. So the first show was always the most stressful up until the moment she began playing. Then it was the most rewarding.

Thankfully, it had been better than just a good show, it had been great. The last minute adjustment she’d made to the set list had worked out far better than she’d anticipated. Up to that point the crowd had sung along with every song, even the ones off the new album, but when she’d played the first few notes of Bite of Iron they’d gone nuts. Their surprising and enthusiastic response had given her the strength she’d needed to play the song without a hitch and gave her a burst of energy that she could still feel in her fingertips hours after the last note had been played.

She smiled at the memory of that initial jolt of excitement. It felt a lot like the burst of shock she’d had at seeing Killian Jones in her rehearsal space for the first time. Her enthusiasm faded a bit as she began to realize exactly what that could be confused for and she wanted nothing to do with anything that could possibly resemble butterflies in her stomach.

“Mind if I join you, Swan?”

Emma jumped in surprise, caught off guard even though Killian had practically whispered his request. She spun to face him with a scowl.

“Don’t do that again.”

He smirked, “Apologies, love. I shall endeavor to announce my presence with a blaring fanfare next time.”

“Or you could wear a bell,” she suggested, “I could even order a little plaid collar to match your many flannels.”

“It’s those flannels that are keeping me from being recognized if I’m not mistaken,” he said smugly as he sat down across from her, a notebook of his own in hand.

She gave him a reluctant nod of agreement. When he’d shown up for the show wearing the same flannel, t-shirt, jeans combo he’d worn to the sound check she’d nearly kicked him off the tour right then and there. While there wasn’t any specific aesthetic that her and the others adhered to it was a little more put together than something that looked like it belonged at a backyard barbeque. It turned out the banality of Killian’s outfit was probably the key to his going unnoticed throughout the whole show. As far as she knew, and Will would have definitely told her, there hadn’t been a single post about Killian being on stage again.

When he had been with Realm of Jewels he had favored tight, black leather pants and dark colored shirts with the buttons undone to the top of the various vests he wore. Instead of well worn Converse he’d had pointy toed boots that reached halfway up his calf and he’d worn more silver jewelry on his fingers and around his neck than she’d ever owned in the entirety of her life. His hair had been longer too, constantly falling over his brow as he played until it was plastered to his forehead with sweat by the end of their shows. It had been a good look, one she’d had fantasies about, but there was something about the flannel and jeans that had a gentle warmth spreading through her veins.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” she grumbled. He smiled widely at her and she rolled her eyes right back, “I still think you should get a bell. Though you wouldn’t need it if you had been sociable instead of sneaking off to your bunk as soon as we got on the bus.”

Killian’s smile dimmed, “It has been quite a while since I’ve played a show, love, and I can no longer indulge in my former habit of having a drink or five to celebrate and relax. It was easier to remove myself from the temptation entirely, rather than testing the strength of my will. Especially when the show was worth celebrating.”

Emma felt as if her stomach had been filled with lead. She had somehow completely forgotten that Killian was a former alcoholic. They had never really talked about it and he’d gone out to the bars with her, Will and Tink after particularly gruelling rehearsals or even some of the more mediocre ones. It just wasn’t something that jumped to the forefront of her mind when she thought of him. Even if she refused to acknowledge exactly how much he actually popped up in her thoughts.

“Shit, Killian- do you or do we- shit-” she looked frantically around the little kitchenette at the empty beer bottles and open bottle of rum on the counter. She scrambled from her seat, “Let me just get rid of this crap and then I’ll let Will and Tink-”

“Swan-”

He sounded amused but she wasn’t sure over the clinking of the bottles she was trying to wrestle into the small trash can under the sink.

“I’ll talk to Regina and have her adjust the grocery delivery-”

“Emma, take a breath, love.”

She did as he instructed but only because he had stood and grabbed her by the shoulders, crouching down to stare into her eyes. He was grinning as he held her in place and she scowled at his amusement.

“I’m glad you think that us being disrespectful about your addiction is funny.”

“I believe you running around this cramped space trying to atone for something I never blamed you for would suggest otherwise-” he let her go only to pull the trash can out of her hands, setting it back under the sink before leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, “I’ve been sober for nearly ten years, I know what my triggers are and how far I can push myself. Tonight was just a new set of parameters that I had to consider and adjust accordingly to. No need for you to drastically alter everything for the whole tour when I’m only a temporary guest.”

“Well, it’s not fair for us to just fling booze around in front of you like it’s nothing either,” she said hotly, twisting out of his grasp to nab the rum bottle and its cap. She wrestled with closing it as she spoke, “Just because you won’t be here for the whole thing doesn’t mean you should be treated like you don’t matter. You’re in the band, you get a- OW! Fuck!”

She sucked in a breath at the searing pain in her palm. Somehow her hand had slipped and caught on the jagged edge of the cap. The pain was nothing compared to the panic that flared at possibly having injured herself enough to affect her playing. Her vision started going spotty and she could feel her knees starting to buckle.

“Swan? Emma?!” She felt his hands on her shoulders again and his concerned face filled her darkening vision. “Breathe. Deep breath for me. That’s it. Another one. Good.”

Following his gentle instructions she felt steadier and her vision stopped tunneling. With a healthy dose of trepidation she looked down at her hand and was relieved to see the cut wasn’t deep but it was very bloody. Looking around she couldn’t find a single thing to mop up the blood or staunch the slow but steady flow. Then she felt a burning sting as liquid was splashed over her palm followed by warm pressure. She turned to see that Killian was holding a handkerchief in place as he wrapped it around her palm.

“That hurt! What was that?” She hissed, indignant.

“Rum and a perfectly good use of it in my opinion-” he winked before turning back to his makeshift bandage, “It shouldn’t give you too much grief at tomorrow’s- er, I guess tonight’s show. A little super glue will seal it right up. It might be uncomfortable during sound check but by showtime you won’t even notice it.”

He punctuated his assessment by tying off the handkerchief and gently squeezing her fingers.

“That’s a relief,” she said softly, pulling her hand from his. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, still a little rattled from her injury and disconcerted from the conversation that had preceded it, “Look, I’m sorry if I was out of line or made you feel uncomfortable or something. I just don’t want you to feel- I don’t know, like you have to hide away or something.”

“Thank you, Swan, but as I’ve said you’ve no need to alter how things have always been done just for my sake-” he picked up the rum bottle and twisted the cap on with an ease that had her scowling, “My sobriety isn’t something that you should burden yourself with. That’s what I pay my therapist for.”

She laughed in spite of herself, finally feeling the tension leave her shoulders. He smiled with her as he set the rum back on the counter and pointedly pushed it away from them. Shaking her head she turned and opened the cabinet that was above their heads.

“I’m going to make some cocoa,” she said as she shifted boxes and bags around, “You want some?”

“Sure, I might as well indulge in something to celebrate the start of the tour,” he said jovially, sitting back down at the table. “Though, I’m not quite sure a packet of cocoa mix can be considered an indulgence. Is it the kind with the little marshmallow pebbles?”

“I’m playing to crowds of thousands and you think I wouldn’t pull the diva card to get the good stuff?” She asked with mock haughtiness, still digging through the cabinet for the little tin she was looking for. “I’ll have you know that I’m deadly serious about two things: my music and my hot cocoa- aha!”

Emma held a little tin up triumphantly. It was a ridiculously expensive imported sipping chocolate, the first frivolous thing she’d bought with her first check from her label. It was part of her post show ritual, drinking her expensive hot chocolate and writing about the night until she was falling asleep at the table or they arrived in their next city. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she’d always partook in that particular ritual alone, she’d never even asked Ruby to join her, but she had no reservations about Killian doing so.

“Who knew you sported such a refined palate,” Killian said with feigned shock. “Seeing as I have been privy to what you consider food.”

She glared at him, “Don’t knock the grilled cheese or you’re not getting a cocoa.”

“Are the onion rings fair game? How about the milk dud popcorn? Pop-Tarts?”

She threw the lid of the cocoa tin at him but he caught it neatly, fanning himself with it. Rolling her eyes she turned her back on him to concentrate on making the cocoa and not fixating on how attractive he was when he was being playful. Unfortunately she’d perfected whipping up the drink while on a moving bus years earlier, so she had plenty of brain power left to dwell on exactly how much more unfairly attractive the man became the more she got to know him.

“So, are you writing songs again?” She asked over her shoulder as she stirred the milk that was heating on the little hot plate they had for solely for her cocoa habit.

“Hmm?” He hummed distractedly. When she looked back his eyes snapped to hers almost guiltily before dropping to the notebook in front of him, “Oh, er, not as much now, no. Journaling was a requirement at rehab and despite some initial, shall we say, reluctance it became a habit. A better one for me to have, for the most part.”

“Get the feelings and stuff down on paper instead of shoving it deep down inside and hoping for the best? I get it-” She let her gaze drift to her own journal before looking back at him. “But seriously, no lyrics or chords or anything? I have a whole shelf in my bookcase that’s stuffed with notebooks filled with potential hits.”

He ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck, “I haven’t written anything since… well, since before. Haven’t felt the desire to.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” she said lamely, quickly focusing back on the task at hand.

As she divided the milk between two mugs she was hit by the terrible realization that Killian had co-written all of the Realm of Jewels songs and that both of his writing partners were dead. She’d gone and poked at a second vulnerable spot in his armor in less than thirty minutes. At the rate she was going she wouldn’t be surprised if he got off the bus in New York and took the first train back to Boston. Stirring in the chocolate she grabbed onto a shard of that thought like a lifeline.

“You live in Boston right?”

If he was surprised by her abrupt change of topic he didn’t let on.

“I do. I always enjoyed the city when we played there and it oddly reminded me of home. Figured I could do worse when finding a place to settle after everything.”

“Why not L.A. or New York?” She asked genuinely curious as she sprinkled cinnamon over the mugs, grabbing them and returning to the table. “They’re probably way better for recording and what not.”

“True-” he shrugged, accepting his drink with a nod of thanks, “but L.A. felt like a golden facade, even though I do own a house in Malibu, and New York felt like a concrete abyss. I was still a bit lost at the time and both of those cities would have swallowed me whole. Still, I craved the bustle of an urban landscape and Boston was the right fit”

“So, you did a three bears situation. Did you at least get some quality porridge out of the deal, Goldilocks?” She teased.

He had taken a sip as she asked and glared at her over the rim of the mug. Then his eyes widened in surprise, looking down at the cocoa, “Ooh, this is good, Swan, and no, there was no porridge to be had or golden locks to be seen. I’ve dyed my hair a fair share of colors but blonde was never one of them. I’ll leave that shade to those that can pull it off.”

With a flirtatious wink from him and a responding eye roll from her Emma felt that some kind of balance had been restored. She had never particularly cared what others thought of her, if she had she would have been reduced to a shell of a person by middle school, but for some reason with Killian it was different. There was something a bit broken about him that she recognized from the mirror and she definitely didn’t want to be the one to add to it.

She lifted her mug towards him, “Since you didn’t get to do this earlier: cheers to the start of a new tour.”

“And endeavoring to make every show as successful as this one,” Killian clinked his mug gently with hers, a soft smile on his face, “Cheers, love.”

Emma took a large sip, glad that her large mug hid the blush she knew was in her cheeks. As much as she’d hated the endearment when they’d first met it no longer irked her. She was discovering that there were a lot of things about Killian that no longer irked her and it made her more resolute to keep him at arm’s length. Only it seemed the harder she tried the easier it became for him to slip past her defenses.

Flustered she set her mug down a little too forcefully and pulled her notebook towards her, “I’m just gonna… until we get to the hotel. I mean, if it’s okay.”

“By all means,” he said, bemused. He tapped on his journal, “I have a bit of writing to do myself.”

“Oh, yeah. Good.”

With that less than eloquent response she forced herself to start what she’d intended to do before Killian had joined her. After nearly twenty minutes of alternately writing down some words and stealing glances at the man across from her she chastised herself and focused on the task at hand. It didn’t help that she could feel his eyes on her whenever the scratching of his pen took a pause. However, by the time the bus pulled into the hotel’s parking lot she found that she’d not only written a good chunk of what she’d wanted but that she really didn’t mind Killian’s presence in the least and that maybe the world wouldn’t exactly end if she admitted it.

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