#so if hypothetically someone wanted to attend one of these...

[prettieinpink]

CREATING AN INTENTIONAL WARDROBE

I. SETTING GOALS

IDENTIFY YOUR STYLE. You don’t have to look through the list of different aesthetics, nor do you have to name it, but at least have a way in which you could explain it in a sentence. 

If you’re someone who is a bit on the fence with their fashion identity, I would start with a ‘base’ aesthetic that you like then start building your own on top of it over time. Think boho, streetwear, y2k, classy etc. 

CONSIDER YOUR LIFESTYLE. I don’t think its a great idea to go buy a fancy dress for a hypothetical event which may not ever happen. You have to think about what you’re doing on a daily basis, and which staples will be worn to their full extent. 

If you’re a very active person, I would invest into activewear or clothes that resemble it. If you’re someone who’s attending university, I would invest into casual cute basics but also smart staples for networking events. 

So in a way, don’t buy clothes for your fantasy self or events. I do understand that wearing clothes that our higher self would wear can close the gap between us and the, however material things don’t mean anything when it comes to that. 

SET A GOAL. Your goal can be anything when it comes to fashion. You could also have multiple goals. Here are some ideas for goals which may speak to you!

Investing into high quality pieces

Having less but wearing them more. 

Increased confidence

Developing personal style

Having a versatile collection

Comfortable yet stylish. 

There is a lot more goals that you may have came up with by yourself, but this is just to get you started. I recommend just having one goal and really honing down into it, is a lot better in this aspect. 

II. INSPIRATION + PLANNING

CREATE YOUR DREAM WARDROBE, whether digitally or physically. Pinterest is a great place to start, and you can create collages now. Or, you may choose to create a beauty binder which consists of outfits that you like. 

One thing I will add on to this, is to add in people who look like you or just don’t show their faces at all. Attractive and fit people can make most outfits look good, and you may be influenced by that, even if it's not going to be flattering on you (considering colours, shape, texture etc). 

LOOK AT THE CONSISTENCY, which colours were you drawn to the most, did you favour any patterns, are there any pieces which showed up repeatedly? Look for any consistency throughout the outfits. 

TAKE NOTES !

Colours: Did you lean towards lighter/darker colours, were there any colours that showed up repeatedly, patterns that you gravitated to?

Silhouettes: Were the clothes flowy and light, or fitted and shaped the body? 

Minimalism: Were the clothes simple and straight to the point, or were they maximalist and boasting personality? 

Alignment: Does the outfits match the lifestyle that you have and the one that you want? 

Staples: What articles of clothing showed up repeatedly? 

You don’t have to write it down, however I would make a mental note of all these details in your dream wardrobe.

III. DEALING WITH YOUR CURRENT WARDROBE 

LIMIT AS MUCH WASTE AS YOU CAN. More of a disclaimer, than a tip, but you don’t have to throw away everything just to replace everything. A lot of clothes that are in good condition can either be upcycled or have another purpose. 

SORT CLOTHES INTO THREE PILES. Keep, potential or donate. Keep are clothes that align with all of your goals, potential are clothes that are almost there and may need some tweaking and donating is for clothes that you feel misaligned with. 

That being said, don’t keep clothes that you know will collect dust in your closet if you have no intention of repurposing them. You could give them away to your friends, a facebook buy nothing group, if it's really good quality and in good condition then consider reselling it on depop or vinted. It's still wasteful when you’re not using it. 

Before deciding anything, actually wear them instead of evaluating them on a hanger. Hangers can make clothes look worse or better depending, but the only way to find out if you like it, is to try it on. 

IDENTIFY WHAT'S MISSING. From the clothes that you have left, see if there’s anything in your dream wardrobe that you don’t have in your closet. I’m not a big fan of ‘filling gaps’ in closets, so I would avoid purchasing statement pieces to fill that gap, just focus on staples that, considering your lifestyle, will wear. 

Make a list of all of these items, and try to eliminate any pieces of clothing which wouldn’t be staples in your life. 

IV. BEING INTENTIONALLY FASHIONABLE

CREATE YOUR OWN COLOUR PALETTE, I dislike the colour theory for people or colour seasons, just because you may not feel confident in the colours that are ‘best suited’ for you. However, I do love the idea of having your own personal palette that you gravitate towards. 

I would recommend having 1 dark colour, 1 neutral colour and 2-3 accent or statement colours (depending on your style). My current palette is navy, grey, pastel pink, pastel blue and pastel yellow. 

This does not mean you only buy clothes in that colour, it just means that its easier to curate your wardrobe with pieces that you love and do wear. I do wear colours outside of my palette, but I do favour those colours when looking for new clothes. 

AVOID ULTRA FAST FASHION. I’m talking about SHEIN, temu, alibaba or aliexpress. I know the cheap prices seem enticing, but their clothes will fall apart after some time and it's just not sustainable in the long term. Save your money and buy from places which you know will last. 

Other fashion stores are fast fashion (just not to the extent of the ones listed above), so I would still be very intentional about what I’m buying from them. Reminder, expensive does not equate to being sustainable. 

AVOID MICROTRENDS. If you do feel that a trend speaks to you, then go for it, but otherwise I would not give in. You’re buying clothes that are misaligned to you, so you waste money, and then when that trend inevitably dies out, you have a reason to throw it out. It's an endless cycle, don’t give in. 

One trend which I will never give into, has to be baggy jeans. Baggy jeans are really unflattering on my curves, no matter the waist. While they’ve definitely had a decline recently, when I was in year 7, it seemed that was all that everyone was wearing but I just couldn’t get into it. 

LEARN HOW TO TAILOR CLOTHES. It is not a given that all clothes regardless of your size, will fit right. Just because something doesn’t fit you properly, doesn’t mean you have to throw it away or put it back on the rack. 

Personally, I’ve lost a bit of weight over my high school years, so a lot of clothes that used to fit me, become a bit loose on my body. I found it unflattering, so I learnt how to do the basics of hand sewing to make clothes fit me the best. 

Learning how to tailor could also help in upcycling clothes that have potential. There’s a lot of basic clothes out there, which just need subtle changes to elevate the whole article. Plus, you’re saving money!

HAVE A SIGNATURE ELEMENT. Something personal to you that expresses yourself without having to say anything. It could be a certain type of jewellery, a bag, a colour, pattern etc. Its just something nice, but not essential for those who are constantly experimenting.

V. SHOPPING MINDFULLY

KEEP IN MIND YOUR PALETTE. For me, being experimental with so many colours ends up with too many fashion failures. I do buy outside of that palette, but only if I know for a fact that I will wear it (not just once) and I do feel like it aligns with me regardless of the colour. 

Even with that, I’m still very likely to put back anything which is not my palette. As much as I do like experimenting, I find security knowing that I do like my clothes and I will wear them.

PURCHASE INTENTIONALLY. Even if something fits your palette, it may not be something that you will wear or style. Always ask yourself questions when shopping, and if you’re not all in, I would put it back. 

Does it tick all of your boxes according to your dream wardrobe? Do you see yourself wearing it next year? (trends, body changes, lifestyle changes), can you style it with the wardrobe you have now? 

CREATE A WISHLIST. Create a list of all the clothes that you want, regardless of any questions or palette. However, these clothes will have to sit on that list for at least a month. If you still find yourself wanting it, then you can permit yourself to purchase it. If not, you’ve just avoided a regretful purchase. 

If you would like to shop in person, I would still create a list when I go out then only purchase items that resemble what’s on my list.

VI. MAINTENANCE 

REGULARLY CLEAN. If you have a shelving system, at least bi-monthly I would take out all of my clothes and wipe down all surfaces in my closet. If you have a hanging rack instead, I would still wipe it down because of dust accumulation. 

ORGANISE. Whatever system works best for you, keeps your clothes easily identifiable at a glance and it's neat, I would use it. Utilise hangers and baskets to help your wardrobe if needed.

Learn how to fold your clothes nicely yet easy to pick out what you want. Its such a small thing, but I do believe it will improve the quality of daily life as you don’t have to scavenge for what you want.

DECLUTTER BIANNUALLY. Whatever time of the year works best for you, then do it. Turn your wardrobe upside down to see if there’s anything that misaligns with you. Overtime as you declutter, you should be donating less stuff if you’re practicing intentional shopping habits.  WASH YOUR CLOTHES AS INSTRUCTED. Washing your clothes properly will extend their lifespan, unfortunately, just throwing them all in the wash isn’t actually beneficial. Read the care labels on each of your clothes and use them.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Plus one 1/9

Summary : When Lando Norris realizes he's the only F1 driver attending the Monaco F1 movie premiere without a girlfriend, he panics and convinces Oscar to help him find a last-minute plus one.

Author note : I get this story idea after the private projection of the F1 movie with all the drivers in Monaco (also can we imagine they weren't wearing their team kit and actually did dress up).

Genre : pure fluff

Series masterlist

Main masterlist

Lando Norris had never minded being alone.

Not in the way that people always made it out to be, he wasn’t lonely, he just… liked his space. Relationships, for all their affection and comfort, always seemed like too much work for someone who barely had time to unpack his suitcase before flying off again. So no, he didn’t crave candlelit dinners or Sunday mornings entangled in sheets. He had freedom, and for the most part, he liked it.

But this week in Monaco, it hit differently.

The private screening of the much-hyped F1 movie was set for that evening: an exclusive, glitzy event organized as part of the Grand Prix weekend. Invitations had gone out to every driver on the grid, along with the sly note that "plus ones are welcome." Lando hadn’t thought much of it at first. He figured he’d just show up solo, shake a few hands, maybe take a few pictures, and go home. Simple.

That was until yesterday afternoon, when Carlos asked if they were all meeting beforehand.

"Sure," Lando had said, "you bringing anyone?"

Carlos grinned. "Rebecca, of course."

And that was the beginning of the end.

Oscar was bringing Lily. Charles mentioned Alexandra in passing, like it was obvious. George was already coordinating outfit colors with Carmen.

Lando had laughed, brushing it off with a "Well, someone’s got to be the mysterious bachelor," but the joke didn’t quite land.

Now, it was the morning of the event, and he was on a padel court near the port, sweating under the mid-May sun and trying to shake off the odd itch in his chest that had nothing to do with the heat.

He hated to admit it, but showing up alone tonight sounded... depressing. And for once, he didn’t want to be the guy arriving solo while everyone else walked in, hand-in-hand, whispering in each other's ears and giggling at inside jokes. He wanted someone next to him. Someone who looked at him like he belonged.

The ball thudded off the glass behind him. Match over.

He slung his racket onto the bench and tugged off his wristbands, then dropped onto the seat beside Oscar.

"You're coming with Lily tonight, yeah?" he asked, more casually than he felt.

Oscar shot him a look. "Yeah, of course. And you, you have a date?"

"Nah."

Oscar raised a brow. "Do you want to? Like, actually?"

Lando blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I could ask Lily. I’m sure one of her friends would say yes if I told her you needed a plus one."

Lando snorted. "What, like a matchmaking service?"

Oscar shrugged. "I’m just saying. Might be nice to show up with someone on your arm. Lily’s friends are cool. I could text her right now."

Lando hesitated, visibly squirming. "It’d be super awkward. I mean, if I don’t know her and she doesn’t know me? What would we even talk about?"

Oscar grinned. "That’s what small talk is for."

"And there’ll be cameras. A little much for a first meeting, don’t you think?"

Oscar laughed. "You’re the one acting all moody about being the only single guy tonight. I’m offering solutions."

Lando exhaled through his nose. "Maybe. I mean, just hypothetically. Who is this girl?"

Oscar grinned. "Hypothetically?"

"Yeah. Just tell me her name."

Oscar chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Her name’s Y/N. Actually, you’ll like her. She’s calm, which is good for you, keeps you from spiraling like a feral cat. Funny, too. And pretty. It could be a solid match.”

Lando sat back on the bench. “And you think she’d actually want to go? With me?”

Oscar’s tone turned teasing. “What, suddenly shy? I thought you were Mister Confidence.”

“Not when it’s someone I’ve never met. You know what, thanks for helping, but no. I’m good."

Oscar held up his hands in surrender. "Suit yourself. Just don’t sulk when we’re all paired up and you’re third-wheeling with the press."

Lando walked away with a grunt, heading toward the trailers to cool off.

Later back at his place, after his shower, he kept remembering Oscar proposition, then he took his phone and his thumb moved almost involuntarily to Instagram. Curiosity was a hell of a thing.

He looked into Lily’s followers and typed the name in the search bar. Only one profile popped up and it was a public one. Lucky him.

@your_usurname

"Sun-kissed, plant-blessed 🌸🌿"

❤️ liked by @oscarpiastri, @lilyzneimer, and 247 others

@lilyzneimer: stop being the main character every time we hang out it’s rude 😩💐

@your_usurname: someone had to do it. you were late 💅

@_user2: petition to ban you from looking this photogenic in real life too

@your_usurname: petition denied.

@oscarpiastri: my allergies make this my ultimate nightmare

@your_usurname: you're allergic to aesthetics??? @oscarpiastri: no pollen

@_user3: i love the cottage vibe

@_user4 : do you even know how soft your entire vibe is?? this is criminal 🌾

@your_usurname

"Busy life lately ☕️"

❤️ liked by @lilyzneimer, @_user5, and 403 others

@lilyzneimer: you seriously live in a movie

@your_usurname: only if you’re the soundtrack 💛

@_user7: how do you look good in every single vibe??

@your_usurname: camera magic and coffee 😌

@_user8: slide 2 made me instantly hungry

@your_usurname: I’ll make you some next time 👩🏻‍🍳

@_user9: this is the softest post I’ve seen all week 🫶

@_user6: this post feels like a warm hug and a quiet playlist

It wasn’t even ten minutes later that he called Oscar.

Oscar answered with a lazy, “Changed your mind already?”

"Just, maybe your right, maybe it could be nice to have someone with me for change. You really think she will accept to come ?" Lando ask nervously.

Oscar laughed. “Well we will see, let me text her. Be right back.”

And now Lando felt… nervous. Which was rare. He could race at 300 km/h and barely blink, but asking a stranger to be his date to a glamorous event with cameras and attention? Suddenly that felt like a lot.

What if she said yes and regretted it? What if she didn’t know anything about F1 and thought he was dull? What if he said something awkward and ruined the whole night?

His phone buzzed with a new message.

Oscar: She said yes.

Lando blinked.

Oscar: Well, she said “Sure, why not?” which is basically a yes. You’re welcome.

Lando’s stomach flipped. That was fast.

He stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Lando: Wait… she really said yes?

Oscar: Yeah. Chill. Just don’t be weird about it.

Too late for that.

Permanent taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie

Let me know if you want to be add or removed from the taglist :)

[writingouthere]

singlemom!reader x neighbor!sukuna. you miss having a baby and Sukuna is dying from a combination of your sexual tension, his lowkey(highkey) baby fever and the drudgery of attending a child's birthday party

cw: Sukuna's breeding kink, red flags are present and accounted for, no one gets laid tho so sad face. this actually ended up being way more sincere and heartfelt than I intended but honestly very typical of me

"Oh we're not together, Sukuna's just been letting me and Bug crash while we look for an apartment."

"Oh he's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!"

"He's actually not Bug's dad. No, no. But, they get along really well. She enjoys having someone else to hang out with aside from me, I think."

Your laughter after the last one plays on repeat as he goes to grab the two of you some refreshments. Sukuna feels like he's living the world's worst version of groundhog day, except instead of being some sad loser who relives the same day over and over, he's apparently a sad loser who is going to live the same conversation over and over again.

"Fuck this shit."

"Um, excuse me but could you watch your language. This is a kid's birthday party." Sukuna wants to ask the bitch who is correcting a grown man's language if he would mind watching his own fucking business but you seem to care about what these losers think and he won't make life difficult for you.

If he happens to step on the guy's foot as he leaves with two cups and a juice box caught in his elbow, well, his steel toed boots need the exercise.

Sukuna knew that if any of his acquaintances, he didn't have friends after all, could see him now, they would die laughing. Die ,because he would kill them for laughing, but fuck he couldn't even really blame them, even in his hypothetical.

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a feared criminal. People pissed themselves when he cornered them in a dark alley. Other bad guys would look at him and say, "wow that guy's a real piece of shit" and now look at him. Stuck at some three year old's birthday party. One more kidzpop butchering of an already shitty song away from committing another felony.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he knew he was at least getting some pussy out of it, but he had just spent the past two hours hearing you deny him to anyone who asked and it was really starting to get to him.

He knew he was being a little bitch about it, and he wasn't upset just because you weren't fucking him. He was upset that all the things you were telling people, they were technically true. He was just letting you and your daughter crash. He was just your friend, not your boyfriend. Even the comments about him not being Bug's dad, but him being positioned as some kind of really invested babysitter, those might have stung more than the ones about your relationship but you thought that was true too.

Thinking about the kid made him look for her, not that Sukuna ever wasn't aware of where you and your daughter were. It had become instinct before he was even aware of it.

Bug was laughing with some kids he recognized from daycare and others from their regular trips to the park. Her happiness was contagious and Sukuna found his lips twitching up at the ends despite his shitty mood.

Your daughter's eyes found him from across the playground. "kuna!" she called, waving her little hand at him. He waved back with his available hand and made his way towards her. She met him halfway, her little legs unsteady on the wood chips but she didn't seem to notice. She was always like that when she saw him, she ran fearlessly. Maybe she just trusted he'd catch her.

Was it so wrong of him that he didn't like the reminders she wasn't his. That it stung, not just because of his feelings but because it just couldn't be true. He might not have fathered her, but fuck anyone who said this little girl wasn't his.

"I got you a juice, you've been running around so much you gotta be thirsty."

"Not thirsty," Bug argued leaning into him. He held up his hands that were holding the grown up drinks for the two of you, and moved the package still lodged in the crease of his elbow towards the petulant toddler. "Take it, or I'll drink it."

Bug stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed it. She struggled to get the wrapping off the straw and Sukuna didn't even notice what he was doing until she had the straw stretched out towards him and he was pulling the wrapper off with his teeth. He spit it out on the ground as your daughter gave him a polite thank-you and then walked away, sipping her juice as she went to catch up with her friends.

What had become of him?

"Need a hand?" You smile at him and Sukuna hands over your cup before taking a sip of his own. There was unfortunately no alcohol in it but drinking it occupied his mouth before he acted like a pussy and asked you, "what are we?" or "should we get married?" or something equally as pathetic.

"God, I want a baby."

Sukuna almost spit out his drink but he manages to tone it down to just a little cough before turning to look at you. You don't even seem a little embarrassed which is just infuriating. Sukuna's about to make a suggestion on how he can help with that when you sigh and point to where some loser is holding their ugly baby.

"Aren't babies just the cutest, I miss when Bug was that age."

Oh, so this was just you looking at other people's red-faced brats and feeling nostalgic and was not in fact a call to action. Sukuna rolled his eyes and leaned back on the hand closest to you so he didn't touch you as he was so tempted to do these days.

"That baby, like all babies, is hideous. All they do is cry, shit themselves and vomit and I'm not even sure Bug is the exception to that and she's the best kid there is."

You look touched at his affection for your daughter but also fired up on behalf of babies everywhere.

"You can't just say a baby is hideous, Sukuna. Those are the Zenin's. Bug is friends with some of them."

"Well are the older ones cuter, because that baby looks like someone fucked one of those hairless cats."

"Sukuna!" you hiss but he sees you smile, despite yourself. "Okay, maybe that baby isn't like the cutest baby-"

"Hideous."

You continue after smacking his arm. "But Bug was cute, okay. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom." You take out your phone and quickly swipe until you get to what you're looking for. "See, cute baby."

Sukuna grabs your phone and looks. It's not the first picture he's seen of a young Bug and he's taken his share of photos of her himself, but he finds himself taken in by it anyway.

It has to be a picture from when Bug was really young, she still had the scrunched up, red face that he associates with newborns. But he thinks you're right, she's still cute. He doesn't know if it's because he knows that baby will grow up to be your daughter, but he finds his thumb caressing her little baby cheeks, the wisps of hair he can see peaking out from where she's wrapped in a baby blanket. It's then he sees she's not alone in the picture and there's a different version of you holding her.

The thing that stands out to him is how tired you look. He thinks this couldn't have been too long after you gave birth but still, he wondered if you'd gotten any rest those first few months. You still didn't like talking about your ex, or the circumstances that had led you to his apartment, but Sukuna knew that chances are you were taking care of Bug single handedly and that couldn't have been easy, cutest kid or not.

"She was beautiful, she still is." He reluctantly hands the phone back to you and you look at the picture again, tears building up in your eyes.

"She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I-I wish that the circumstances were different in how I got her. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll explain everything to her when she's older. She just deserves so much better than him, you know?"

"You both do." Sukuna reaches over and brushes away one of the tears that had managed to fall down your cheek. He leaves his hand there a moment, holding your cheek in his palm, just appreciating the warmth.

"Do you want any?"

"What?" Sukuna isn't sure what you're talking about anymore. He can only see your lips right in front of him, the way that your eyelashes brush against your cheek as you blink faster and faster.

"Babies, do you want any?"

Something short circuits in Sukuna's brain and he wants to say, fuck yes.

He wants to tell you that he thinks about it every day. Every time you put Bug on your hip or send him youtube videos of hairstyles you want to try on her. Whenever it's late at night, and little feet pad out of your room and Bug asks him in the loudest whisper he's ever heard, if he can get her some water because she's so thirsty.

He thinks about it when the sun streams through the curtains of his apartment in the morning and it lights up your hair as you move throughout the kitchen, a force of nature, a creature from somewhere far too good to have ended up here with him.

He thinks about it when the three of you go out and people just assume you're a family, because of course you're a family. When you and Bug play some made up game, or Bug gets tired even though she denies it and he carries her sleeping form against his chest. When he holds her in his lap on the subway and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder and he feels like this, this is what he's always wanted.

He's not all pure and good though, because he thinks about it late at night in his bedroom too. After a day of your smiles, of seeing your thighs stretch out of those sleep shorts you started wearing when the weather warmed up, whenever he remembers the feel and smell of your panties when he's lucky enough to find a pair in the laundry basket, he thinks about how the two of you would make some really cute fucking babies.

He's imagined it a million ways. He's imagined you telling him you've gone off your birth control and you need him now after he takes you out on an anniversary dinner. Or him crowding you up against the kitchen counter and you begging him to put a baby in you.

His favorite fantasy is currently one where you get so carried away when you finally finally fuck that you don't ask him to wear a condom and he spends the whole night making sure you're nice and good and full of him and when you tell him a few weeks later you missed your period, he'll let you freak out. But then he'll tell you that he'll take good care of you, and Bug, and your soon to be little one and he'll finally have you, all of you and once you have your second, he'll knock you up again, as many times as he can because there could never be too many mini-you's running around.

At this point, Sukuna remembers he's talking to you, the real you and he swallows a few times before he speaks.

"I do," he says simply but something must show on his face because you're looking at him in a way you never have before. He hears your breath hitch and he leans in to kiss you, and you smell so good and his thoughts are consumed by the little family he just knows you're going to have when suddenly he's pelted by a variety of sharp, little objects.

Sukuna immediately holds up his arm to shield you from what he now sees is a barrage of wood chips which are being thrown at you by an army of toddlers, including your daughter.

You immediately get up and start talking to the kids about the danger of throwing what are basically large future splinters at people's faces and Sukuna is contemplating the murder of every child that isn't his own when you turn to look at him.

You're not just looking at him, you're seeing him and oh. Maybe he would be getting laid tonight, after all.

The slow burn is almost done folks.

thank you to the amazing reception to this series and the one-shot I posted(which there will be a prequel of soon!). it's literally so insane. Masterlist will be up tomorrow which I hope helps with accessibility!

edit: masterlist is up!

[insomniumstella]

coffee, Tuesdays, and f*** you | ceo!bucky x reader

summary: James Buchanan Barnes might just be the worst man on earth—too bad he's the only one who can help you out of a sticky, sticky situation.

warnings: enemies to lovers, fake dating, forced proximity + contact, sarcastic!bucky, explicit language, alcohol consumption

word count: 1,970

author's note: this is a possible teaser for a series i kinda want to write after over a year or so long hiatus😭 anyway, would anybody even read this??

“Huh,” his voice is like nails on a chalkboard on the gloomy Tuesday morning after your non-boyfriend boyfriend dumped you with an ‘I’m bored, sorry’ text the night prior. “It’s actually happening. The world is healing again.”

You shove yet another journal that is as unnecessary as it is cute into the cardboard box perched atop your desk and glare at the looming man. James is wearing his usual middle-of-the-week sallow grey shirt, which somehow manages to dull his sharp features more than Thursday’s yellow, and Prada trousers. Always with the Prada trousers. He loves Prada more than Rebecca Bloomwood and that is saying something. 

He’s a… fashionista like that. 

“I’m not quitting.” Why James has yet to successfully fire you is a miracle. The pair of you are like Tom and Jerry. Dracula and Van Helsing. Pandora and her box. Surely he must have tried to sweet talk his daddy into terminating you for good. “This,“ you motion to the empty (besides the wine opener, stress balls, and an emergency tube of red lipstick—obvious essentials) drawer, "is called organising. Learn it, live it, love it. It’s after organise and before o-fuck you in the dictionary.”

“Real big talk for someone who keeps a diary.” 

“That was…” you take in a deep breath in hopes to maintain at least an ounce of sanity. It doesn’t work. Why would it work? It never works. James and peaceful work hours is only a concept in a hypothetical world full of other ridiculous things such as your neighbour quitting drums and affordable Manolo Blahniks. “That was not… this is not a diary. It’s a journal. A journal I use for very important business meetings. And calls. And conferences.” 

“Right,” he quips with a hint of a smirk and sits down on the edge of your desk, the wood creaking underneath his weight. Journal my ass, he ponders but stays surprisingly quiet about it. 

“Not a diary. A journal is different from a diary. Maybe there’s no shame in keeping a diary, but I do not have a burning desire to write down every reason why the Wicked Witch of the West would make a better boss than you.” The words keep spilling out of your mouth before you can realise his painfully infuriating sneer is only growing. You hate that stupid smile of his. James knows you hate that stupid smile of his. That makes it all the more alluring for him to torture you with it. “I talk about it with my therapist like an adult.” 

“Not a diary. Got it.” James nods as his eyes flicker to the open (and totally unfinished) Word document on your work laptop before slowly raking across the wrinkled cotton of your shirt until they find yours again. “I was wrong to assume this box of trash on your desk,” he vaguely gestures to the cardboard and smirks just a fraction more, “is for diaries. Though you definitely have the look of a girl who keeps one. But anyway. Why are you organising when the entire PR department is having a meeting?” 

A… silence settles between you. It’s neither awkward nor peaceful, like it often is with James—he asks a somewhat reasonable question and you can only stare at him like he’s the biggest idiot on planet earth. Because sure, there is an important meeting happening on the forty fifth floor of Dioro right this moment. After all, you are a goodie two shoes of an employee with a busy Google calendar and a functional corporate email. You would know. But it is so like James to assume you would organise over attending, as the freaking head of public relations nonetheless, that you can only stare at him with those blank, are-you-serious eyes.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

“Yes?” James cocks his head to the side as if expecting you to say something, anything, else in addition, and when you don’t, his eyebrows furrow, too. 

Yes. Yes. Yes is not remotely an answer to my question, you infuriating woman, he thinks, and though he knows he should not expect anything less than for you to be as annoying as his shoelaces coming undone on a bright and early morning run, “yes” still takes him off guard a little. 

“Yes,” you shrug, promptly closing the laptop because James has no place to see the opened Word document that is half a plan for next year’s PR strategy and half a series of good lunch places around the office, and straighten up. He’s not the only person that’s confident in their words around here. 

“I sincerely hope you know the company does not pay you to look cute and gossip in the break room. If that was the case, you would’ve been let go a long time back.” It’s his turn to flash you the blank, dead, are-you-serious eyes. 

Exasperated stares are one of the many love languages between you. 

“I don’t just look cute and gossip. I also take precious time to share all of those memes in the company’s group chat. Good for morale.” You quip and James pinches the bridge of his nose. 

He should have managed to fire you a long time back. But to his credit—he has tried. Once. Twice. Thrice, if somebody was to count the time he got drunk at the annual Christmas party and pettily tried to end your employment over a disagreement about Creedence Clearwater Revival. Surprisingly, it stuck. For a whopping total of twelve hours. Before you stepped through the elevator doors once more, his father exasperated, and right beside you. To this day, James finds it a mystery you’ve managed to charm the man because you’re as charming as a wet towel. But his father is also a fan of Raisin Bran, so there must be something wrong with his judgment. At least when it comes to choice of breakfast cereal and the annoyingly annoying girl’s personality. You are great at PR, much to James’ frustration, and Dioro is habitual with scandals. The very last name Barnes is habitual with scandals that you make go poof! So don’t get it twisted—James is gra… gra… grateful for your talents in PR. At least until the glorious day when he takes over the company completely and can finally make you go poof! A flute of Dom Pérignon in hand as he stares at your empty desk out of his glass office is a nice dream, one to keep him from full blown insanity. 

James just might need a hobby. 

“Team-building activities are good for morale. Recognition programs are good for morale. Social events are good for—“ he starts listing on his hand, his features dark with disappointment, aggravation, and a hint of resignation. Good. Maybe you could break him before autumn.  

“Stop. Nobody cares about a lecture on morale from Dolores Umbridge.” You wave a dismissive hand and place last year’s Dean Winchester themed calendar atop the abyss of journals and trinkets. He’s fine and all, but Sam’s much more tempting to go back to. There’s just something about a strong man with longer hair and a kind heart. “I know about the meeting, Sophie’s leading it because I’m taking the rest of the week off. Plus maybe Monday. Probably Monday. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, do NOT expect me back on Monday.” 

“I expect you to find another job, but y’know. Tuesday’s fine.” He deadpans, not that you pay much attention to his tone. You’re much more interested in the fact his ass leaves the anguished, abused edge of your desk. “Why are you taking time off? It’s like the middle of July. And who the hell approved it?” 

“So there’s this Linda us lowly employees visit when we need time away from work,” you drawl out and cover Dean’s smouldering face with an old February issue of Vogue. “And it’s July second, which is not even remotely the middle. I hope you know that. It’s important to me that you know that.” 

His eyes drop to the magazine and the calendar that peaks out from beneath it, but he’s suspiciously silent about it. Instead when he speaks, his voice is a deep, almost frustrated rumble on—surprise, surprise—the HR department. “I’m aware of what a Linda is.”

“Good, boss. Glad to know you’re following, boss. And before you say anything, Linda approved my request for time off months ago, so there is nothing you can do about it, boss.” A lazy smile curls your lips as you stack more publications of Vogue until Lady Gaga’s staring back at you from the top of the pile. 

“Linda loves you, employee. She would give you a raise without hesitation if she could, employee. I specifically instructed you to come to me for these things.” James pinches the bridge of his nose before his arms fold over his chest. “Employee.”

Pet names are another one of your love languages. 

“We have been at each other’s necks for the past three miserable years.” You shove the flaps of the box closed and when they pop back up, you wrestle with the cardboard as elegantly as a girl on merely three hours of sleep can manage. “And it’s like you don’t even know me.”

James rolls his eyes, but not because you always find loopholes and roundabouts when it comes to his demands—you just… bring out his unprofessional side. You are a lunatic in business casual clothes.

“My apologies.” He leans forward, abusing your poor desk again as his hands grip the edges. “I should have recognised you would go on a vacation when your department is in the midst of a crisis.”

“Thank you,” you flash him a smile as sweet as sugar, a mighty contender to his infuriating smirk, and lean over the acrylic divider to steal a tape dispenser from some underpaid intern’s desk that’s been abandoned all morning, not that you blame him. You consistently avoid President Business, too. “You had me scared for our marriage there.” 

“It may be for the best you start looking into divorce lawyers,” James comments dryly, watching as you tape the box shut. Mostly. Lady Gaga’s still peaking through the crack a little.

“Whoa. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t fight for us.” The reply is almost absentminded as you cover Gaga with a bright pink Post-it—she’s remarkably eerie in the blue, whatever-it’s-made-of coat on past September’s issue of Vogue. “Besides. It’s possible my heart will yearn for you after the long, long six days Linda oh-so-graciously approved, despite July shaping out to be busy.” 

His baby blues flicker from your face to the bright Post-it, fingers curling around the oak of your desk as he ponders different ways to snap you out of whatever realm of professional defiance you seem to exist in without forcibly shaking you by the shoulders. Though the latter is an appetising thought. 

“Earth to James. Somebody’s spacing out again.” 

James pushes the wooden ruler you use to nudge him out of his face before his stare slowly returns to your features, hard and narrowed, and most likely unimposing given that he’s talking to a whack-a-doodle. “Sorry, honey. Got lost in curating the perfect celebratory afternoon for your inevitable demise.” 

“Oh.” A slight raise of your eyebrows accompanies the soft reply. The perfect celebratory afternoon for my inevitable demise? In his world, it could mean a gazillion possibilities. After a healthy beat, you settle on the most likely based on nothing, but vibes and the fact the man’s an asshole. “Bourbon, cigars, and a flock of hookers?” 

A sardonic smile curls his lips as James straightens up and shoves his hands into the pockets of those damn Prada trousers. “Golf, caviar, and setting your desk on fire.”

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

Honey, This Club Here Is Stuck Up - Hozier x Fem!Reader

Summary: In the midst of a particularly boring party, Andrew finds a way to entertain the two of you.

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Tags: established relationship, vaginal fingering, teasing, light praise, delay of orgasm, author has never written smut before, improper use of a jacket (God I hope that's not a thing)

Word Count: 4002

Author's Note: she's back! this was actually a request from that the ever-so-lovely @deprivedmusicaljunkie sent to me personally. bea, thank you for helping me get back into the swing of things! i really hope you enjoy this. this is also a venture into less than holy territory, if that makes you uncomfortable turn back now! you've been warned. if you're still here, enjoy, you filthy animal.

my requests are still open! if you enjoy this fic, feel free to drop a request in my asks!

fic under the cut <3

For a famous person, Andrew was a lot more introverted than most would expect. It wasn't uncommon that his social battery ran out halfway through an after-party and he came up with some excuse on the fly to leave. You had been the only girl he’d dated that actually encouraged this behavior, telling him that he could take his space if he needed to, that social events could be draining and he had every right to leave — or sometimes, not even attend — if he felt uncomfortable.

That was your mentality for most nights. Tonight happened to be the exception. He had been invited to some party hosted by his record label, and because last time he stayed for about fifteen minutes before pulling an Irish goodbye, his attendance was absolutely mandatory. You understood this, and knew it was your job to keep the resistant Andy in check

And so, you found yourself reminded that no matter how much you may love your boyfriend, God, could he be impatient. And apparently, he also didn't know how to wear a bow tie. Using the extra height your high heels gave you, you were able to reach up to him and adjust his tie as you spoke to him.

“Andy, we have to go! It's professional. Do you want your label to be even more on your ass than they already are?”

He shook his head.

“No… I guess not,” he murmured in defeat, and the pride that came from convincing him was unmatched. Andy was stubborn enough to not let you have your moment for too long, soon whispering a contradiction down at you.

“Hypothetically, what if instead of attending this snoozefest, we stayed home and had a nice night, just the two of us?”

The way he was looking at you, like you were the only person in the world he ever wanted to be in the company of, made saying no to him a Herculean task, but it needed to be done. You sighed.

“You know I want nothing more than that. But since a certain someone has a nasty habit of leaving parties early, we have to stay the whole way through.” You finished straightening his bow tie, resting your hands on his chest. You placed a kiss on his cheek, leaving a peck in the stubble on his face. Your hand reached up and cupped the side of his face, and he looked down at you with something unmistakable: adoration.

“Try to suck it up for tonight, okay?”

He flashed a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked down at you.

“I’ll try. No promises, though.”

“You know what? I’ll take it.”

God, this party was boring.

You stuck by Andrew's side, as you knew virtually no one at the function but a friend of a friend named Lena, and watched as he cycled through the same few answers for the questions he was asked during small talk. Yes, he was working on a new album. No, he didn't know when it would be released yet. Maybe he would top the charts again, he wasn't sure, and that was never his intention anyways. After a few monotonous conversations, his mouth began to twitch, and you could tell he was physically restraining himself from rolling his eyes each time a record exec asked if he “knew Too Sweet would be a hit”.

You didn't want to admit it, but you had also quickly become bored with the whole ordeal. You were annoyed on his behalf by all the questions, and even more agitated that almost every attempt at entering a conversation was hit down by whoever Andy was talking to. He tried his best to insert you into the conversation as well, but as the industry tends to do, your voice in any matter was glossed over. It had been about five or six versions of the same conversation before Andy pulled you to the side, both of you leaning against a wall in an attempt to have a little privacy.

“How much longer did you say we had to be here for? An hour?” The annoyance at the situation was evident in his tone.

“We have to be here until it's over. Which is only another,” you pulled out your phone to glance at the time before looking back up at him, “Oh, god we have another three hours.”

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed. “Does time just drag on when you're bored out of your mind?”

You chuckled at his words, nodding as well. You were sure the party was at least halfway through, and finding out it had only been an hour since you arrived caused it to really set in that you were going to be there for another. Three. Hours.

“Listen, I’m not exactly having a blast either, but we'll make it work.”

He jutted a thumb over ta sign on your right; written in almost obnoxiously big and bright letters were the words OPEN BAR. It's like they knew drinking would be the only way to make the party tolerable.

“Can I at least have a drink? Or two. Or three. Depends on how many more people ask if I got that ride to church or not.”

“Sure. It wouldn't be right for me to keep hostage and deprive you of alcohol.”

From there on, you went your separate ways for a bit. While you attempted to fraternize with Lena, Andy lingered by the bar. You made your small talk, conversing about the weather or the newest celebrity gossip. It got to the point where you had actually become invested in your and Lena’s conversation. You were just about to find out which supposedly “taken” celebrity had just been caught lurking on Raya when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Before you had even fully processed it was Andrew, you looked up at him, a smile slowly growing on your face.

From across the room, Andrew watched as you were, almost absentmindedly, making conversation while he nursed his drink. After all, you were making Andrew's job of keeping his composure much harder than it needed to be. The outfit you had selected wasn't intended to tempt him, but he couldn't pull his eyes from you if he tried. It was nice enough that it could remain innocuous, and the kind of sexy that left you respected more than stared at — a deep red dress, with satin that hugged your body in the right places, ending just at the middle of your thighs.

It may have been the alcohol flowing through his system, or the fact that you looked absolutely ravishing, but he was finding it harder and harder to control himself.

He could only bring himself to take a few sips — he would be driving you both home, after all — but that was enough to embolden him to hop off the stool he was sitting on and walk to you, placing his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention.

“Y/N? Could I steal you for a moment, darling?”

You nodded, turning back to Lena and excusing yourself from the conversation. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he pulled you away from the main room of the venue and into the hallway. The music was loud enough that even though it was muffled behind the wall, you could hear the beat. You let him take you through the twists and turns of the hallways. You turned to look at him, still lightly jogging by his side.

“Is everything alright?”

“I’ll explain in a moment, just… come with me.”

You couldn't help but laugh at the pure confusion that had taken over you, giggling as you passed by waitstaff with equally confused expressions. He only came to a stop once you reached a bland, wooden door, one you hadn't even noticed was in the venue. Either he was much more aware of his surroundings or very desperate. Before you could put the pieces together, he opened the door and dragged you inside. From what you caught before the door closed and shut out any remnants of light with it, there were coats hanging next to you, including a fur coat you swore you just saw on an up-and-coming pop star wear.

Andrew had trapped you both in a coat closet, among the jackets of the rich and famous and with so little light you could barely see the man in front of you.

“Andy, what the hell are you-”

Your question was cut off by his lips on yours, going in for a kiss that was short, but you could sense the desire looming behind it. The sensation took over your decision making as you kissed him, but after stepping back and bumping into a coat hanger, you came to your senses, and pulled away.

“Really? Right now, we're doing this?”

“What better way to entertain ourselves? You said yourself that you’re just as miserable as I am.”

“I know, I know. But-”

“Listen. I’ve shown my face. People know that I’m present. If we leave and come back, what's the difference between this and taking a smoke break?”

“How long is a smoke break?”

“Six-ish minutes?”

“You're really going to keep me in here for six minutes?”

“You’d be surprised how much I can do with so little time.”

You paused, thinking over all the possibilities, and attempting to make out his silhouette in the dark as you did so. Your gaze trailed up to approximately where is lips were.

“Alright. But if we get caught, I’m not taking the blame,” you complied.

“Trust me, we won't get caught.”

He leaned back in again, kissing you with such a force that you stumbled back, hitting the wall of the confined space. Impatient would best describe how he kissed you; it was full of a longing that must have been bubbling inside of him since you left the house. He was also physically impatient, slipping his tongue across your bottom lip to ask for permission only a few seconds after your lips met. It had become a reflex for you to open your mouth after that, and you did so, letting his tongue sneak inside and interlock with yours. One hand of his cradled the side of your face; the other found its place right between your thighs, slightly splitting them apart in the process. It was only at this moment that he dared to pull away. With each pant he exhaled , hot air fanned your face.

“What's really been making this night so hard for me,” he started to explain, his hand trailing up your inner thigh, “is that this entire time I’ve been bored out of my mind, while you have been looking so gorgeous.” His hand had been made cold by whatever drink on the rocks he had before pulling you aside, only magnifying the shivers he was sending down your spine. His other hand trailed down from your face, dragging past your neck and your collarbone before resting on your breast, the fabric of your dress thin enough that he was still able to play with your now hardened nipple.

Meanwhile the hand on your thigh moved higher and higher, Andrew tauntingly taking his time before he reached exactly where you wanted him to be. He pulled your panties down and to the side for access, dragging a digit through your folds.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You're already so wet for me.”

His index finger landed on your clit, slowly moving in small circles. A sound of pleasure — one you had no control over — left your lips, his teasing sending a wave of arousal through you. His right hand, which had just been pinching and playing with your breast, flew upwards to cover your mouth. You couldn't care less that the noise escaped you; you were smiling beneath his hand. When Andrew spoke, however, he sounded less than happy.

“If we're going to do this, you'll have to be quiet for me, alright?”

He pulled his hand from your mouth so you could reply. You looked up at him (or where you assumed he was) with a laugh of disbelief.

“Won't the music drown me out?”

“Not with how loud I’ll be making you scream.”

“Oh, you cocky bas-” Cut off again, now from the shock of feeling Andy’s index finger enter you, you gasped sharply. As if to comply with his instructions, you covered your mouth. There were still sounds of pleasure exiting you, muffled by your hand. Andy only took these as encouragement, increasing his speed as his calloused finger slipped in and out of you. Unfortunately, he was right; the volume of the noises you were making was sinfully loud. Had your hand not been preventing you from getting louder, there was no doubt someone would have heard. Inside you, his finger curled, hitting the exact spot where you needed it to be.

“You're so beautiful when you're like this, you know that? Absolutely fucking gorgeous, no matter how you take me,” he whispered. You knew the compliment held even more merit because he couldn't see you; even in the dark he knew that the vision of you coming apart because of him would be a sight to behold. You attempted a reply: a hum, a nod, maybe even a murmur. Every try proved futile, because soon after his praise he began to place his middle finger inside you as well. The feeling of both of his long, slender fingers pulsing in and out, hitting the exact spot that sent you reeling with pleasure.

That familiar feeling continued to build up in your core, a warmth incomparable to any other, all caused just by the man’s fingers, for God’s sake. It almost angered you how fantastic he was at it, how it only had been an estimated five minutes and he had you under his control like you were putty in his hands. He hooked his fingers to hit that spot again, eliciting another wanton moan from you, and causing your breathing to shorten into quick pants. You were finally able to mutter something, though it was more a confession than anything else.

“Fuck, I’m close, Andy. So close.”

He took that word as gospel, continuing in just the right way that you could feel your climax on the horizon. And just as you were about to reach your peak, to finally feel that release that had built up so perfectly—

He stopped. What an asshole.

“Is that so?”

You hummed with disappointment, feeling his fingers slowly leave you.

“From here on out, you have two options,” he began to explain, his voice at a whisper. He took his time with each word. They were slow. Deliberate. The mere action of his lips being so close to your ear managed to give you goosebumps. “Either we stay until the end of the party, and you remain unsatisfied,” he let the offer hang in the air for a moment. In the meantime, he tilted his head down to nip at your earlobe.

“Or?” Your voice quivered as you asked. He delayed the end of his sentence, letting his mouth trail downward to the soft skin of your neck. Another whisper left him, finally finishing the second half of his offer.

“Or we leave now, and I make you come so hard you'll be seeing stars for days.”

He drove a hard bargain. You weren't proud of how desperate you had become, but it was hard not to melt from Andrew’s actions. It took you only a few seconds to make your decision, your previously strong resolve crumbling under his manipulation.

“…I suppose I could tell Lena I’m not feeling well.”

You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin, the only way you could tell he was content with your answer.

“There we go. Let's get outta here, eh?”

You managed to nod, quickly pulling down your dress and fixing yourself to become presentable again. Andrew had the easy job of merely opening the closet door. You stepped out with shaky legs, holding on to his arm, forming your excuse in your head. After walking out and past all the locations you had just ran by, you found Lena, the only other person at the party you moderately cared about. Andrew stood behind you as you tapped her on the shoulder, interrupting her mid-questionable-dance-move. She turned around and inspected you quickly, glancing up and down.

“Y/N, you alright? You look a little… flushed.”

Behind you, Andrew muttered under his breath: “Yeah, I wonder why.” Your neck snapped up at him, being met with a shit-eating grin on his face. You gave him a light, chastising slap on his forearm before explaining to Lena that you actually were a bit flushed, and that you felt you needed to go home. Not a lie, just withholding the real truth. She still gave you both a hug goodbye, wishing that you felt better before sending you off on your way.

You were lucky enough to live so close that you could drive home — or, more accurately, Andrew drove home and you got to be the passenger princess. He kept a steady hand on your thigh as he drove, occasionally inching closer and closer to where you needed him, but being as cheeky as he was, he always pulled away just before he reached that point. This cycled for about twenty minutes, each time only frustrating you more.

You almost felt a relief wash over you as he pulled into the driveway, knowing every second was one second closer to you finally feeling that release you craved. You had become impatient. Oh, how the tables had turned.

Andrew parked the car, turning the ignition off and, much to your dismay, removing his hand from your thigh. He nodded his head outward, opening the car door on his side.

“Come on, let's get in the house.”

“No.”

You hadn't even processed you’d said anything until you saw the look on Andrew’s face. He knitted his brows, the mischievous smirk he previously had on his face fading.

“I’m sorry, my love, but I’m a bit confused.”

“No. I don't think I can wait any longer.” You gave him pleading eyes as you spoke. As if to prove your point, you reached down and rubbed at your clit through the fabric of your panties, trying to get any satisfaction that you could in the moment. You watched Andrew's eyes widen with lust at the motion, getting the message you were trying to convey. He nodded slowly.

“I think I’ve got an old jacket in the back. Give me a minute, and don't you dare stop.”

He opened the car door and sprinted — which surprised you, considering you had never seen him run before this— to open the trunk of the car. He rummaged around, eventually finding the jacket, which had been tattered and unused for a while. Now, it would be put to good use.

Slamming the door of the driver's seat closed as he sat down, he handed you the jacket, and you momentarily stopped pleasuring yourself to lay it underneath your hips, covering the car seat. He rolled up his sleeves as you did so, preparing for what was to come. You spread your legs open and lifted up the fabric of your dress, giving Andrew the access he had wanted since he first pulled you into that coat closet.

Immediately, he resumed from where you left off, pulling down your panties with such a force that he was close to ripping them off completely. One you were exposed, his two fingers thrust into you again and pumped in and out. You clenched around him as he did so, even bucking your hips upwards at the feeling. Perhaps it was the added layer of desperation that had happened between the coat closet and now, but it felt like his every movement, every small thing he did, was magnified.

He kept in perfect time with the pulse that had grown in you, knowing just when to push in and out, how to hit that one spot that made you feel almost dizzy with arousal. The knot in your stomach was building up once again, and the best part of it all was that you could now be as loud as you wanted, a fact you were sure to take advantage of.

“Fuck, baby!” You exclaimed, beginning to fall apart from his motions inside you. Upon hearing your cry, Andrew started to rub at your clit with his thumb, as if the main source of pleasure you were experiencing wasn't enough for him. The way he was working on you with his hands was enough to bring you to this point, something no other man had been able to do for you before. His pace became rapid, wanting to gave you pleasure as soon has he could. You had been so patient for him, after all.

“God, I’m close, I’m so fucking close-”

Cut off one last time, now by your own shout of pleasure as his fingers send you over the edge. This time, when he finally let you savor the pleasure you had been longing for, you relished in the feeling of your release. Your juices flowed out onto both Andy’s hand and the poor piece of fabric that was placed beneath you for impromptu cleanup. You rode out your high for a few more pumps of his fingers, until you found the strength to open your eyes again. His fingers slowly left you, and he brought them up to his mouth instead, licking them clean. The sight was close to hypnotic.

Once he had cleaned himself up, he took to caring to you: removing the jacket beneath you, whispering praise of how you had been so good for him, and giving you a chaste kiss on the lips before stepping out to retrieve you from the passenger seat. He opened the door to find you looking oddly apologetic.

“How are you, baby?” He asked.

“Andy, I’m sorry, but after that… I’m spent.”

“You have no reason to apologize, my dear. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Are you sure you don't want anything? I almost feel bad, I don't want you to feel like you got nothing out of this.”

“Knowing I was able to bring you pleasure is all I need. That knowledge gives me more satisfaction than you’ll ever know.”

You couldn't believe that even though you’d been together for so long, he was still able to give you butterflies in your stomach. He extended a hand, the image of seeing him so formal making him look like a prince in a Disney movie.

“Let's get inside.”

You nodded, unable to wipe the almost stupid grin on your face. Taking his hand, you carefully stepped out of the passenger seat, using Andy’s arm for support as you walked.

“Just for future reference,” you , said looking up at him, “next time you pull me into an enclosed space on the fly, can you make sure it's empty? We probably traumatized about a dozen jackets today.”

He laughed, a deep, hearty laugh, the kind that gave you a sense of pride to be able to make him feel joy like that. That small moment alone was worth more than the rest of the night put together.

“I love you, you know that?” Your voice was soft, and you looked up at him with the same admiration in your eyes that he had looked at you with just a few hours ago.

“I do. You’re pretty cool, too, I guess,” he replied teasingly. You both burst out into laughter, a fit of giggles that lasted all the way up to your doorstep. You stopped when you reached your front door, Andy leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips before finally giving you a genuine reply.

"I love you, too."

[harunayuuka2060]

Vil: Would it possible to change your mind into liking me back if I tell you that I'm in love with you now?

MC: …

MC: I don't understand why you are asking me this, Vil.

Vil: It's a hypothetical question. Would you change your mind?

MC: …

MC: *smiles* You should know more than anyone, that I value commitment.

MC: I won't do anything to hurt Che'nya.

Vil: …

Vil: I see. He's lucky to have you.

MC: *chuckles* I honestly think it's the opposite.

Vil: …

Vil: Anyway, we will be having a trip overseas. You'll be away with him for a few months.

MC: Alright. I'll explain it to him. Is there anything else?

Vil: …

Vil: None for now.

Che'nya: Eh~ A few months? *sad frowns*

MC: Yes. I'm the one who assists Vil, so I have to go there with him.

Che'nya: *pouts*

MC: …

MC: I will call and message you often.

Che'nya: *pouts even more*

MC: …

MC: How about souvenirs?

Che'nya: *thinks* Hmm… No.

MC: …

MC: What is it? Just tell me.

Che'nya: Bring me with you. :3

MC: Not possible.

Che'nya: *whines* I can't believe you! You're just leaving your new boyfriend behind?

Che'nya: If it's already like this, I wonder what it'll be like when we get married?

MC: Che'nya-

Che'nya: I have needs, y'know?

MC: …

Che'nya: :3

MC: Should I stop taking you seriously?

Che'nya: Nooooo! But in all seriousness! At least pamper me before you leave~!

MC: …

MC: What kind of pampering?

Che'nya: :3

MC: Che'nya.

Che'nya: I promise not to leave marks! Or at least not that many. :3

MC: …

Vil: Why are you covered up?

MC: *has hickeys around their neck because of Che'nya* I'm cold.

Vil: ...

Vil: *doesn't want to ask further*

Vil: Anyway, you should know that we will be sharing a hotel room.

MC: Huh?

Vil: Dad made a mistake in booking the rooms.

Vil: Don't worry. It's a suite.

MC: ...

MC: I see. However, will you be comfortable sharing a space?

Vil: Yes. *smirks* Didn't we use to sleep in the same bed together when we were younger?

MC: I'm sure I always end up on the floor.

Vil: That's because you liked to move around.

Vil and MC: *chuckles at the memory*

Vil: ...

Vil: Let's enjoy this trip together, MC.

MC: *smiles at him* Yes.

Vil: *is clear to him... that MC is smiling to him as his dear friend and not someone who is in love with him*

Vil: ...

Vil: How the tables have turned.

MC: Hm? What did you say, Vil?

Vil: It's nothing. Let's go.

Vil and MC: *after arriving to the "suite"*

Vil: ...

Vil: It's a honeymoon suite.

MC: ...

MC: I'm calling the front desk.

The front desk: We are very sorry, but it's the only available room we have...

MC: Don't you have other options?

The front desk: Are you two not a couple?

MC: No. I'm his personal attendant.

The front desk: ...

The front desk: You can stay in our staff room-

MC: Okay. I'll do that-

Vil: Forget it. You're not sleeping elsewhere, MC, when you are a guest too.

MC: But Vil-

Vil: I said forget it.

MC: ...

MC: *to the receptionist* Are there no other hotels we could stay at?

The front desk: At this time of the year, hotels are mostly fully booked, but I'll do my best to get you a reservation.

MC: *smiles* Thank you.

The front desk: I deeply apologize for the inconvenience.

Vil: ...

[talekinesis]

Random Gravity Falls Headcanons

Stan

This guy smokes to help deal with the stress of everything. He picked up the habit after he was kicked out by his father and hasn't quit since. He used to be a chainsmoker but after getting to look after the kids for the summer, he drastically cut back and is actually thinking of quitting altogether because he wants to be around long enough to watch Mabel and Dipper grow up

Actually a pretty decent cook, it's just baking he sucks at. With cooking you can sort of eyeball the ingredients and add more or less depending on your own personal taste, but with how strict baking is with its ingredients, he never really picked it up. He's only baked a cake twice in his life, once for his mom when he was a kid, with the help of Ford, and once for the kids' birthday (it was lopsided and runny and they decided to just go out for pancakes instead)

He can play the guitar really well. He had to teach himself how to play when he was young and homeless, playing for tips. He still has his original guitar and occasionally, on a good day, will get it out and play it. He played it once for Mabel, who, for once in her life, actually sat still and listened

Part of his daily routine is kicking gnomes out of the trash because they keep trying to eat leftovers. He just bats them off with a broom like they're raccoons

He grew up a huge mama's boy since she was the only supportive parent he had. After he got kicked out of the house, he called her from a pay phone a couple times to ask to come back home and to wish her a happy birthday. To this day he still makes it a point to get a cupcake on her birthday since he can't celebrate it with her, and sometimes he'll tell the kids stories about her, like how she would have loved Mabel since Mabel has all these different unique sweaters, and his ma used to collect different, big, unique earrings

Stan coaches Mabel in boxing, and actually helped her discover a passion for it, he attends all of her matches. He even taught her a couple illegal moves that she can't use in the ring but can use in real self defense

Even in his early 60s, he still thinks it's funny to bother Ford as if they were still kids. He'll randomly snatch his glasses off his face (forgetting that he also wears glasses and Ford can retaliate), he'll just start copying Ford and repeat what he says, he once even dressed up as Ford, but it didn't last very long because Ford wears a much smaller size of pants, and Stan has a bit of a gut on him. He changed after about five or ten minutes.

He's a die-hard fan of Chappell Roan

He's actually the more responsible of the Stan-Twins. He breaks laws sure, but he always makes sure everyone is fed and safe. He's like this close 🤏 to putting Ford and Mabel on leashes when they go out because they have a tendency to run off

"I'd like to make an announcement to the store, I lost someone." "Oh, did your kid run off?" "My 60 year old brother, yeah. No he doesn't have a cellphone."

Has a biological kid out there somewhere but the mom cut him off. I just think the scene where he said, "Scary movies are great, the girl cuddles up next to ya... next thing you know you gotta raise a kid.. And your life falls apart.." sounded too much like he was speaking from experience and not as a hypothetical. He wants so badly to be a dad though and regrets not keeping contact. (let me know if I should make an oc for this :] )

Ford

He can't eat doritos or any triangle shaped chip because one time Bill hid inside a chip bag just to startle him

It took him a while to adjust to this dimension's laws of physics. He was frustrated for a while that he couldn't just leave his coffee floating in the air. He broke three mugs and one of them was Stan's.

Despises pickles as if he held a personal grudge against them. He hates them an irrational amount, and even gets irritated with Stan for just having them in the house. He acts like a child about it too, arms crossed and everything. "Here, Poindexter, you want me to take the pickles off your sandwich? Like a child?" "Don't bother, the meal's ruined >:( "

He gets sucked into those soap operas that Stan watches, and will sometimes watch from the doorway or over his shoulder. He won't admit it, but Stan knows.

He lights his face on fire because he saw someone else do it in a different dimension where that was normal

Unlike Stan, he's actually amazing at baking (he likes to follow precise measurements and instructions) But sucks at cooking. Caught a pot of water on fire.

When he first discovered the shape shifter, he kept it as a pet because he found it cute, but ended up letting it go when he found out it had a human-like sentience and could speak. But for a while he raised it the same way Mabel raises Waddles, putting it in little shirts, hats, and just absolutely adoring it

Used to play 'Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons' with a group in college as the DM, and it was the first time he actually had a friend group. The other players loved the way he set things up

Doesn't like alchohol. At least from this dimension, he got used to alternate dimension alchohols that tasted way better, so when he came back to Earth everything tasted way too strong and almost like dirt to him so he just quit

Used to know a little banjo since Fiddleford taught him but forgot it while in other dimensions

Used to babysit Tate on occasion and sucked at it

He also used to babysit Shermie and *also* sucked at it. He'd have to pass him off to Stan if he got fussy or started crying since only Stan and their mom could calm him down

• Used to play David Bowie in his lab and would occasionally lip sync or dance to it. Even when traveling dimensions, he'd introduce David Bowie music to the people, creatures, and beings he met, until he lost the cassette tape and was devastated

Mabel

Allergic to chocolate and makes up for it by eating way too much of other candies. She still tries to eat it though because "Maybe I'm not allergic anymore," but Dipper has to stop her. Stan even makes it a point not to keep chocolate in the Shack when they visit because he knows Mabel is a heathen with little self preservation. It's not epi-pen bad, but it will burn and itch her throat and get her coughing (Ford will use chocolate substitutes when baking for her and Dipper)

She likes to tell people that she and Dipper were originally two of three, and that she ate their triplet in the womb to become stronger. This is not true.

She wants to be a big sister really bad and sometimes that comes out onto Dipper despite him only being 5 minutes younger, much to his dismay and protest

She found a passion for boxing after Stan taught her how, and even asked her parents to let her start doing it as a sport, which she got really into. Coincidentally, after she picked up boxing, Gideon suddenly left her alone completely. Future Headcanon: She grows up to box professionally and one day even faces Grenda in the ring, but there's obviously a mutual respect between them. They agreed ahead of time that if they ever had to face each other, neither of them would hold back and it would be a fair match. Even after there's a winner, they meet up afterward and go out for dinner with Candy, who posts their matches to social media. Waddles is her mascot.

Mabel makes even more friends when she returns home from Gravity Falls because she takes Waddles for walks on a leash and it's a pretty good conversation starter

She is convinced that if she eats all the ingredients for a cake, she'll have successfully made a cake in her stomach. Once again, Dipper has to physically stop her from doing this. Ford does too, the first time he heard her say this (through a mouthful of flour) he went, "That certainly is an interesting theory, Mabel, but no-"

Dipper

Let's get it out of the way, I really like the 'Trans Dipper' headcanon. It just fits really well and I, as a trans person, can relate to him a lot

I think he knows how to dance a little because his mom taught him and used to take him to 'Mother-Son' events

He secretly keeps a tally of how many times Mabel rolls herself out of bed because it always wakes him up but he also kind of thinks it's funny because she just sleeps through it. Even if they don't share rooms back at home, he can always here the distance "thunk" of his sister hitting the floor. The tally isn't a sheet of paper, it's a small notebook with multiple pages filled in

He sometimes gets the courage to try and roughhouse with Stan, who is always on board but purposely takes it easy on the kid because he's like "baby bird" fragile

Dipper was the one to break the news to his Grandpa Shermie that Stanley was still alive and Stanford was actually missing for 30 years with Stan taking his place, almost giving the poor man a heart attack. (Shermie ended up booking a flight to Gravity Falls to yell at his brothers in person because that's not a conversation you can have over the phone)

Dipper was the one to introduce Stan to Chappell Roan by accident, but now they listen to her if they're in the car together

his DD&MD character is a female orc fighter named Yotula and he got very excited to info-dump about her to Ford (who was equally as excited to listen)

Has an odd addiction to chocolate milk. He makes a glass of chocolate milk at least once a day. Twice if it's been a rough day. He actually gets a little upset if he misses his daily cup of chocolate milk, its just routine. Stan one time made an offhand joke that since Mabel's allergic, Dipper has to consume twice as much for the both of them, but Mabel took that seriously and now to her its just the truth.

[zsakuva]

Hello!

So since Asirel fired Isaac, Asirel has his own stuff to worry about, and Isaac still wants to be out there and take cases, hypothetically speaking, what if in a way Isaac accepted a case or something that was indirectly hindering or blocking something that Asirel is working on? (With the assumption that it's something new that Isaac doesn't know Asirel started) how do you think he will handle it?

If Pet was a female, when attending parties and gathering with Asirel, do you think he'll allow them to wear a dress if they wanted to? Or maybe it's not practical if something were to happen? Same thing with heels!

Interesting question! I'm not sure as I haven't really thought about that. Unless he knew, Isaac wouldn't back down from the case. If Asirel knew, I think he would tell Isaac not to get involved, and I believe he'd likely drop the case or pass it onto someone else. Though Isaac was fired, Asirel would still somewhat look out for him.

Yes. Pet is a vampire after all, so I don't think clothes or heels would deter them. If anything, heels can make quite the weapon if one is fast enough, which Pet definitely is.

[nightscythe]

I love the image of Sevatar stepping in on Curze behalf in order to make sure the object of his affections is at least somewhat properly courted, him intercepting love letters in order to do a small bit of editing and making sure they appropriately match his Primarchs freak is especially funny.

I’m sure it’s all fun and games until instead of Curze they begin to fall for his handsome wingman -💜

could you imagine though... sev is just trying to do his job, curze is infatuated, and you're just standing there like... the one who handed me the bunch of flowers is very cute and i would like to know more?

because in your head, curze doesn't really exist. you'd see him, almost like a shadow that wanted to be hidden, but with your own interests in mind, ignoring him seemed right. but what if sev fell for you too?

at first it had been a surprise, the offering of black lillies passed to you without much of a warning or explanation. sevatar had only mentioned that they were from the primarch, then he'd left to attend to business he felt more important during the day.

flowers, little boxes of treats no one else was allowed, a trinket that had no real meaning other than being a material gift that the most loyal son could offer to you by means of indulging his primarch's unspoken yet terrifying interest in you.

and as endearing as sev would try to be with you, it would almost feel like more of a joke. especially as time went on and you find amusement in how he'd form his primarch's narrative and bend reality to try and make you see curze in a better light.

"shall i expect chocolates tomorrow?" you'd joke with him, tucking another unenthusiastically written poem into a draw with everything else.

"i'm not sure that's something he'd consider for you," he would return, "but i suppose he's not the ones making the decisions here."

and as the days passed by you'd look forward to seeing him. he'd linger around you for longer than he needed to, asking you questions posed as requests to help him court you better.

"favourite colour?" he'd ask, walking idly with you. "or, favourite colour for dresses?"

"curze wishes to buy me a dress?" you'd ask.

he'd only hum in agreement.

because soon the gifts from the primarch are nothing short of the memories you had shared with sevatar. not your favourite flower, but one that you stopped to point out when he walked with you. not your favourite colour, but the one he thought made you shine the brightest.

but if you asked?

"it reminded him of you," he'd tell you, straight-faced and never looking you in the eye, "i wrote it down in the list of things about you."

the list he hadn't touched in weeks now because everything he remembered exactly as you said it to him.

and the poems, the notes, they all start to have meaning.

its not poorly worded confession written for someone else, it's a true reflection of sev's feelings as he realises he can't go a day without thinking of your smile and the way you said see you tomorrow without really thinking about it.

you'd thank him on behalf of curze for the gift.

and you'd thank him for keeping each of your thoughts and feelings with him. even the little ones like the reasons for your favourite seasons and how thick you liked the blankets at night.

and you'd wonder whether he asked your preference on touch and gentleness, hypothetically, for him or his primarch more than once.

"you were supposed to have his heart," he'd say one day to you, when it was quiet enough for him to no longer hide his true soul, "but you've ended up with all of mine.

nothing would be comparable to the relief he would feel when you finally admit, "i never wanted his anyway."

you just have to hope that curze was in a forgiving mood when he found out. there's only so much that being the favourite son can protext you from...

no bother though. sev thinks you're worth committing treason for.

completely contradicts how i said he would woo someone himself... but oh well, situations!!

[plusvanity]

What’s your take on Pelle wanting a romantic relationship irl? Do you think it’s something he would’ve wanted? Or was he afraid that he was too odd for someone to accept him? (I don’t know if that sounds harsh). Since you think that he was sensitive.

Btw I love your analysis girl 🫶

I'm not so sure about relationships, but I firmly believe that he wanted to connect to someone, somehow.

In terms of friendships, I think Øystein was the closest friend he had (at least during his time in Norway), but even so, Pelle didn't open up much for various reasons that include the environment in which he was at that time and most probably trust issues. Talking at some point with Old Mayhem, she described an 'invisible wall' between Pelle and his friends/ the world and I couldn't agree more. It feels like Pelle would've wanted this meaningful connection with someone, anyone, but unfortunately, he didn't manage to form it. I genuinely think this had a massive contribution to why he took his own life.

I don't know if he would've wanted a relationship because a relationship comes with a lot of stress and pressure for being in a commitment, attending someone else's needs, etc, but he definitely felt alone and forgotten in this world. After all, he wrote in his last lyrics 'No one will ever miss you'. He longed to be seen, to be given attention and importance. There are a lot of signs of emotional neglect in how he developed, but I will try to keep it short. I consider him as being in the autism spectrum and a relationship would most likely feel overwhelming, especially since he would lack experience, confidence, etc. But if I have to imagine him in a relationship, I can only imagine him being with someone patient and calm.

People with strong trauma responses, PTSD and those who suffer from personality disorders need a partner who is a bit more mentally equipped to manage stressful situations than your average Joe. To see improvement in Pelle's mental health, he would need a very patient and mature partner.

Love can heal a broken heart. I am one of those people who believe that no matter how broken you are, if you find someone to love you for who you are, someone who is willing to accept you with all of your inner demons, with the the good and the ugly, you can start to heal. Currently, I'm following this process myself. The human brain can be programmed and re-programmed. We are very adaptable to our environments and if we make our senses realize we're not in danger anymore, we can finally allow ourselves inner peace. This is why I believe that Pelle could've been saved.

Hypothetically speaking, Pelle would have a hard time adjusting to a relationship. He was quite rigid, stubborn and unwilling to change for others. To make a relationship work, you need to make some compromises. Another aspect that I want to point out is that Pelle had outbursts or 'episodes' of impulsive behavior when he was living. That would be a serious problem. Øystein (and Metalion, if I remember correctly) had to literally hold Pelle down when he suddenly wanted to 'go to Transylvania'. The question is: Would someone be able (and willing) to deal with this again and again? He would definitely need psychiatric treatment, but would he accept that? There are so many factors that would make dating Pelle a real challenge. I also believe that he was suffering some sort of perceptual delusion. I won't call it Cotard's syndrome since it is not recognized in the DSM and since we have very little information about it, but my honest opinion is that he might have had something more that just depression and I'm kind of pointing towards Major Depression with Psychotic Features. If you believe something else, that's fine. Everyone does their own research and reaches their own conclusions.

I do think he was sensitive and there would've been room in him to grow positive feelings towards someone, to form a meaningful connection and learn to trust again. In the end, it doesn't matter if he would've had a romantic partner or a best friend, he would've liked to form a bond with another soul, someone who understands him, respects him and is there to stay.

I imagine him as being very honest, capable of showing tenderness, being mindful, quiet, contemplative and trustworthy in a meaningful relationship.

Sorry for my late response, I had an awful weekend.

[moonlightdancer26]

Hypothetically speaking, What do you think Draco and James’s dynamic would be like if they attended school together?

On one hand, James might terrify Draco into being quiet or find Draco too pathetic to be worth his time.

While on the other hand, Draco could report to Lucius who can, and likely will, murder James if he bullies Draco too much.

Awesome question. The amount of parallels between them is so interesting, I realised it’s a pretty unexplored topic in fanfics. It’s either Drarry fics who are pro-Snape and show James’s bad side (but they’re pro-Draco so they don’t criticise Draco or go in depth abt their similarities), or it’s a pro-Snape fic where James is obviously bashed and Draco isn’t touched upon, or it’s a fic that bashes Snape lmao.

The Snapedom doesn’t really talk about Draco either, I do get questioned because I hate James but love Draco and Severus, but most Snape fans seem to just not be too into the Lightning era or just dislike Draco. It’s difficult to find someone who has strong opinions on all three characters, which is weird given that the three of them are very problematic and lots of fans have strong opinions on at least one or two of them.

Considering how JKR made a point to show how similar James and Draco are, it’s a shock that fans don’t discuss it more. For example:

“Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” “Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

Draco reminding Harry of Dudley, aka a spoiled kid who grew up in a loving environment and was well taken care of. Harry pointing out how, despite Snape and James both being scrawny black-haired 11 year old boys, one of them had the air of being well-cared for and loved (James) and the other seriously lacked that (Severus).

Dumbledore comparing James and Snape to Draco and Harry, though at the time we didn’t know who represented whom.

Both wealthy only-child purebloods who treated their inferiors badly.

But, as a response to your question, I’m not sure how they would’ve treated each other. There’s no doubt that they would’ve LOATHED each other, but we should also take into account that Draco, unlike Severus, came from a wealthy pureblood family. He had status and power, as well as Crabbe and Goyle who were basically bodyguards, so James definitely would not have gotten away with bullying him. It’s not a coincidence that James and Sirius’s favourite target was also an easy target (a poor, unpopular, half-blood Slytherin). James would hate Draco but wouldn’t target him as relentlessly or as successfully as he did with Severus.

Draco also had no problem bullying Harry, who was not only rich but also famous. But Harry and Co weren’t experienced bullies like James and Sirius (who went around hexing people), so Draco would definitely take more caution if he were to go after the Marauders.

All in all, I think they would’ve obviously hated each other’s guts and probably would’ve had a rivalry, given that they had pretty equal statuses.

[crystallizsch]

“Oh? *I* get to be in charge of our lovely Princes? Hehe. I graciously accept the challenge.”

[SR] Yuusha Tala -> GROOOOVY!! Glimmering Soirée (fan event by @starry-night-rose)

Groooovy!!: Hehe. If you want to dance with me, you’re gonna have to keep up with me first.

Set Home: Yeah, yeah… I know I’m just a glorified attendant and I don’t really have any say over the Princes... Look, just let me have this.

Home Idle 1: Helping Deuce act like a Prince has been really hilarious. But credit where credit is due, seeing him try his best is really charming.

Home Idle 2: Wow. Somehow Azul became less insufferable after being trained as a Prince. ….Wait. Nevermind. He’s still the same.

Home Idle 3: Kalim and Hornton seem to be a natural at this. I guess I should have expected that. It’s really nice to see them shine.

Home Idle - Login: Has anyone seen Grim? I swear I saw him lurking around here somewhere…

Home Idle - Groovy: I could go for "Belle of the Ball" if I really wanted to, especially since I'm the one who helped take care of everything after all. But alas, why would you vote for the magicless prefect..? Wait, unless.….

Home Tap 1: Where did I put that ghost camera? I was just holding it just a while ago… Huh? It’s around my neck? Well, that’s embarrassing. Oh stop laughing at me, will ya?

Home Tap 2: The others say I’m like a different person when I go into "manager" mode. …And they say it either like a compliment or an insult so I’m getting mixed messages.

Home Tap 3: Ugh. This cape is cool and all but people keep getting caught by it. So annoying.

Home Tap 4: Would I compete in being the Belle of the Ball if I wasn't taking care of the Princes? Depends. Would you vote for me? ~ ♡ …What do you mean you’ll give me a "pity" vote.

Home Tap 5: No, I’m not staring "longingly" at that band! …But hypothetically, do you think they’d let me play an instrument with them?

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh, wow. Crazy that they totally just left this violin here. Hmmm…..

notes:

i had fun with the voice lines aaah but it might have some changes when i’m done with the groovy (and i’ll properly put her in an actual card template)

also slight lore drop from one of the voice lines: yuusha has experience hosting formal parties pre-twst. basically she just locks in (a bit too heavily) when she has hosting duties.

(some of the voice lines also foreshadow the groovy 👀)

anyways i was just messing around a lot with the outfit design and the colors hgsdfjds

i tried my best making her purple color scheme agree with the limited color palette and i think it worked out??? idk idk--

also the cape was supposed to have patterns similar to the ceremonial robes so as to label her as someone from nrc.

i wanted to include a LOT more ruffles too but i had no patience for lining all of that 🤧

(bonus sketches/concepts below)

at first i based off her suit on hans frozen but then (because of pinterest giving me ideas) i realized i wanted a more fun outfit and so here i am-

(also help me i meant to have the voice lines to be just talking to anyone but it just hit me that it sounds like she’s talking to jamil 💀 girl they just can’t leave me alone they live in my head 24/7 rent-free)

[thatguythatdrawsalot]

Hoodie Ruby:

Witch Ruby:

And Strawberry Beret Ruby:

(Hoodie Ruby was specifically inspired by @phishcaek’s Ruby design from their AU RWBYxl, please check it out, it’s amazing~)

Have an happy April!!!

Sorry for the long wait of responding to your asks! I’ve just been taking a break of redesigns all together until May started so now I’m just ready to hop in and talk about them.

Ruby Rose.

The hoodie version of her, once again Ruby doesn’t need a huge red cape to be little red riding hood. She looks so good in a sweater, why hasn’t she worn one at all yet? This is a good casual look but also a good huntress look? She can easily fight in this if she really wanted to, the amount of red is amazing and totally her style. You mentioned this was inspired by an AU Ruby from someone else, I’ve seen it here and there and yeah it looks good! You got Ruby to look cool but also ready for a fight on the streets, Yang would be proud.

The witch version, she needs to be put in a spin off with Maka Albarn from Soul Eater right now- she looks cool if not fantastical! Though I do think it’s too goth? Kinda used to Ruby being bubbly at best through fan designs so maybe an outfit like this could work better when she’s attending Signal Academy than any current Ruby, even if it’s just a casual outfit. The same can be said for her strawberry outfit, it’s cute for what she would wear if younger.

Overall, you got good outfits for Ruby in what she could hypothetically wear whether it’s during her time in Beacon or Signal.

[chackyxyooj]

The Way I Love You

Gene | MS, Fluff, Reader Request

→ “If I were to end up going all in, would I be the only one who’s falling?” - Hypothetically, John Michael Howell.

╭──────────.★..─╮

Pairing: MS!Gene X Reader

WC: 1.2k

This work was requested by @kaigarax. Here you go! I hope you enjoy it (I'll cry if you don't /j).

Event Masterlist

╰─..★.──────────╯

Gene has never been a morning person. That’s not to say he can’t get himself out of bed if he has things to do in the early hours of the day, but that he prefers to sleep in when the opportunity arises. That being said, it’s no secret that Gene dislikes attending his 8am lectures.

To be completely honest, Gene only went to the first lecture to get a feel for the professor. He wanted to know if the professor was strict or laid-back. Not that knowing the professor’s personality would make Gene want to attend the lectures or anything. As a matter of fact, the boy made sure to sit as close to the door as possible (a door of which was located at the front of the room) without looking like someone who enjoyed early morning lectures. 

This ‘8am lecture attending’ was a one-and-done deal. Well, a three-and-done deal. One lecture to go over the syllabus, one for the midterm, and one for the final. At least, that’s what he’d planned until he ran into you.

‘Running into you’ was a stretch considering it was you who came through those lecture hall doors nearly fifteen minutes late. To your credit this was a three hour lecture, but it was obvious that your efforts were pretty frantic. If not for the jacket you obviously threw on at the last minute then maybe you could’ve gotten away with pretending that your delay in arrival was intentional.

Whether it was out of pity or out of intrigue, Gene found himself moving his backpack onto the ground to allow you a quick and seamless transition into the classroom environment. Sure, the strategic placement of his backpack was supposed to deter people from sitting next to him so that he could easily get out when class was over, but for you he didn’t mind. If anything he found your quiet sigh of relief rather endearing! He understands the reluctance to shuffle behind a dozen other students just to get a mediocre seat. He was just doing something nice. That’s not a crime. Besides, disturbing the flow of the lecture beyond what you already have doesn't seem like your thing - until it happened again in the next class, that is.

Gene doesn’t know why he showed up to another of the professor’s early lectures. At the time he justified himself with some reason or another - not that he had to justify going to the lectures he paid to attend - and sat exactly where he had before. It wasn’t until he was moving his backpack a second time that he realised why he was really at this early lecture.

From then on, Gene quickly fell into a pattern. Despite his reluctance each morning he would wake up early enough to ensure he could sit in the same spot each lecture. And every lecture you would turn up to class late and sit in the spot provided to you by the boy.

Despite how the two of you had never held a proper conversation, Gene thought the two of you had a particular understanding of one another. Some mornings, when Gene would doze off midway through the lecture, he’d wake up to you sliding over a few jotted notes of what the professor talked about. Other mornings, after a particular morning you spent trying to hide the fact that you’d skipped breakfast, Gene would offer you a granola bar - ‘offer’ in the sense that he’d place it beside your notebook and refuse to let you return it to him.

It wasn’t until halfway through the term that Gene finally worked up the nerve to talk to you. The morning of the midterm, the most important day for you to not be late, Gene was surprised to see you already waiting outside of the lecture hall.

It’s not as if Gene arrives to class super early but you were over half an hour earlier than what you usually were - and unfortunately, it showed. So with his untouched coffee in hand Gene strolled up beside you and gently tapped your shoulder.

“You look like you could use a coffee.” Gene couldn’t stop an amused smile from creeping onto his lips at your surprised expression. “You take your coffee black?”

“Depends on the day.” You confess. Your eyes dart between the coffee in Gene’s hand and his face while you wait for him to follow up his statement with the usual small-talk people have before tests. At least, that’s what Gene assumes you’re waiting for.

Despite his better judgement, Gene hands his coffee over to you. “Here.” He prompted, his eyes flitting between his coffee and your face. “It’s from one of my favourite places on campus.”

You stifle a laugh. “McDonalds is one of your favourite places?”

“Hey, it’s cheap and half-decent. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Gene offers you the coffee once again, but this time you reach out to take it from him. You push back the small flap and bring the drink to your lips. Gene tries not to stare but he can’t help but want to see your reaction.

Now, Gene will be the first to admit that he knows good coffee. He’s personally privy to a fresh cup of dark roast, and McDonalds is the farthest from that. Though it’s better than nothing, Gene would’ve gone with something a bit sweeter if he knew he was going to be handing you his cup of coffee this morning.

Your face scrunches slightly as you pull the cup from your lips. “Not bad, but it’s a little sour for my taste.” Despite your criticisms you take another long sip of the coffee.

Amused, Gene can’t help but laugh. “Still better than nothing, I assume?”

You grin and give a short nod. “It’s definitely the sort of pick-me-up I needed before this damn midterm.” You go to hand the coffee back to the boy but he refuses.

“Keep it.” He insists - not that he’d take it back from you anyway. It’s probably a bit too early to be stealing an indirect kiss from you. “I don’t know if you noticed but getting to class early isn’t a problem for me.”

“Are you sure? I feel kind of bad for taking it.”

“Why? It’s just a cup of coffee. Now the granola bars on the other hand…”

You stop mid sip to meet the boy’s gaze. “Oh my gosh, you’re totally right! I should probably pay you back for all those times you-”

“No! No, it’s okay.” Gene laughs and crosses his arms. “I was just teasing you.”

“I know, but I still feel kind of bad about it.” You lean back against the wall and glance around. The hall has filled considerably while waiting for the professor to open the door for everyone; a sign that the midterm would be starting soon. As quickly as you looked around, you looked over at Gene. “As thanks for everything you’ve done for me, how about I bring you to one of my favourite coffee places? My treat.”

“I don’t know… can your favourite coffee really beat the likes of the golden arches?”

“Easily.”

Gene grins down at you and gives a slight nod. “Alright, alright. I see what you’re playing at. What day were you thinking?”

“This time next week?”

“Are you sure you’ll be awake enough for that?”

“Of course.” You reply. “So what do you say?”

And Gene, despite not being a morning person, is more than delighted to accept your offer.

[unlikeable-female-character]

For some reason the Instagram algorithm decided I needed to see a post from ClubChalamet yesteday. No clue why but who am I to question the almighty algo. Because I am deeply nosy I had to have a look and see what’s what in the world of Clubachalamet. It was evident that she, and many other commenters, were not taking Timothee and Kylie Jenner’s red carpet debut very well at all. So far so parasocial.

But what really struck me was the way nothing I read was in anyway new or original. So much of what was being said was the same basic blueprint as I have seen when people talks about Hugh and Sutton - or A N Other actor and a significant other of whom we Do Not Approve.

At no point did anyone actually mention Kylie by name - she was ‘that person’ if alluded to at all. This isn’t quite the same level of dehumanising I’ve seen with Sutton, where at the start I regularly saw her being referred to as ‘it’ or ‘that thing’. Are they afraid to say these women’s names? As if writing them out or uttering them aloud is a curse and doing so will make the sky fall in. Spoiler - it won’t. But it will make you (generic you) actually have to think of them as human beings, which does seem to be something some struggle with. Also, not mentioning them by name won’t make them disappear as much as many may like to think so.

There was also the general attitude that Kylie is not good enough for ‘their’ guy. His previous relationships were. And any future relationships will be (which truly made me laugh - pre-approving a hypothetical relationship is just ridiculous) But this one? Nope. All so very very painfully familiar. Deb? Saintly! any future girlfriend? A joy! This one? Oh god no….

Both Timothee and Hugh feel that both Kylie and Sutton are the ones for them and that’s a simple fact. I know there have been things people have dig up about Sutton that they don’t like and I am fully aware of how polarising Kylie’s family are but ultimately both of these men (or any other celeb you can think of - Sebastian Stan, Henry Cavill, Chris Evans…) have chosen to be with these women, see something in them they they like and are attracted to and we really don’t get to have a say in that.

There is no rule that says you have to like a fav’s significant other - in fact it makes me a little queasy to see people fawning over them when the only thing they are really a fan of is their proximity to the celebrity - but as a baseline, actually treating them like a human being would be cool. Like not actively wishing them harm or hoping they are broken up with. Saying how much you love a person but actually you’d really like them to lose someone from their lives that makes them happy isn’t the flex people seem to think…

As much as these little enclaves of toxicity might not want to accept it these couples are together and living their lives - be they on red carpets in a blaze of publicity or quietly attending plays together (Hugh and Sutton were at the opening night of The Creditors last night, per a fan on Instagram). We do not know them and their choices do not impact our lives. Opinions are one thing and I have no issue with anyone expressing them but thinking those opinions should carry weight with the people we admire and have some bearing on their lives isn’t it.

In some ways it’s reassuring that the behaviour displayed towards Hugh and Sutton isn’t unique but in others it’s wholly depressing to see the same thing being played out over and over and to see women being the ones to lead the charge over and over against other women.