#also i had to mess around with the colours to get them right so if you saw this before no you didnt

[cheqorb]

More Between Us.

You’ve always been just friends, but they can’t ignore how their heart races whenever you’re near.

FEAT. Isagi, Bachira

NOTES. probably my most tooth-rotting post yet! annnd I totally forgot I had this in my drafts Bring this duo back to me though pleasj

ISAGI is easygoing, and mild-mannered by nature (though perhaps his rivals disagree on that). It’s literally harder to not be friends with him. Your relationship was equally good, nothing particularly special and not abysmal. The type of friends who might talk on the way to class if you spot each other, but never go out of their way to do so either.

If asked, you wouldn’t even say best friends; he’s too busy with his teammates, and you have your own friend group.

See, Isagi enjoys thinking about stuff in a logical sense, using reason and evidence to support his ‘theory’. Both in real life and in football.

So before he even comes to the conclusion of a crush, firstly, there’s the small details he picks up about you.

Your eyes shift colour slightly if the sun hits them right. But, he reckons that happens with everyone’s eyes. Your eyes crinkle upwards when you smile, and maybe even dimples form on your cheeks as you do so. He likes seeing people smile, and yours is… in a way, cuter than anyone else’s? If he had to rank smiles, he’d put yours near the top. All hypothetical, obviously!

He’s always been observant, even as a kid, so Isagi figured he was just feeling a little more insightful as of late but it doesn’t stop there.

Suddenly, Isagi finds himself unconsciously lingering in places he knows you'll be. He tells himself it's just coincidence, but deep down, he has a feeling that he’s seeking you out more often.

Practicing with his team becomes a lot more strategic, with him making sure he's near your usual route home (not in a stalker way, at least, he hopes not), and just on time so that he can ‘bump into you’ and walk together.

And he lives in the complete opposite direction, so, while you don’t mind his presence, you find it a little odd.

Isagi begins to remember every little thing you mention, even the small stuff, like your favorite snack or the song you've been listening to on repeat. Next thing you know, he’s casually surprising you with them, acting like it’s no big deal but loves it when you get visibly excited about it.

He fumbles with his words a little more around you now, overthinking simple things that never used to bother him. It’s not like he’s shy (actually one of the best communicators out of everyone), he just doesn’t want to mess up or make you think he’s weird!

If he says something that could be interpreted as mildly creepy, he’s actually the first one to call it out and apologise over and over again. Beats himself up about it at home, even if you thought it was mildly funny that he knew what you were doing last week Tuesday at around 5:06PM…

When his teammates joke about him having a crush, he laughs it off, but there’s always a little pink in his cheeks that he hopes you don’t notice.

He'll start texting you first more often, just to share something funny or ask for your opinion on something trivial. It’s an excuse, really, just to have another reason to talk to you.

Also catches himself smiling whenever he sees a notification from you pop up on his phone, and his heart does a little flip when he reads your replies, no matter how mundane they are. Literally a “hey, I’m bored. Wanna hang out” is enough for him to lose sleep over it.

When you two do eventually go to said hang out, he pays extra attention to you: whether it's making sure you’re comfortable, or that you’ve got enough to eat, he’s always subtly looking out for you.

Despite all these signs, Isagi convinces himself it’s better this way — giving you small hints for you to understand rather than straight-up confessing. If you notice them and accept, great! If you notice and don’t accept, that’s fine too, he hopes you can remain friends though!

If you’re completely oblivious, well… he’ll muster up the courage to say it outright.

You and BACHIRA are like two peas in a pod together! Where there’s one, the other’s probably lurking nearby somewhere. Every second of every day seems to be spent with each other (and to anybody with common sense, you two already look like you’re dating).

When the crush starts, he thinks about you more than he already did, if that were even possible. Every little thing you do seems to make his heart race, but he sorta brushes it off as just excitement from being with his best friend.

Kind of a trickier situation than Isagi’s one this way though, because now you’re so close, Bachira doesn’t even feel that different about you. He might not even realise it’s romantic until his mother points it out in the midst of another one of his rambling sessions. About you, that is.

I won’t sugarcoat it; he’s nervous if anything. You’re one of the few friends he has and genuinely seem to care and like about him and if he ruins your friendship over his feelings, he’d be devastated.

But he’s back to his usual self and gains a little confidence after some encouragement from others!

Bachira’s clinginess ramps up a notch, but it’s so typical of him that you might not even notice. He’s constantly draping an arm around you, leaning on you, or just being in your personal space as much as possible.

Willing to share anything and everything with you. For example, if it’s snacks he’s got, he’s always picking out the best pieces just for you and handing them over with a cute smile.

Bachira finds himself staring at you a lot more now. Sometimes you’ll catch him and he’ll just laugh it off with a playful comment, but on the inside, his mind is racing with thoughts he can’t quite put into words.

When you talk, he listens with full attention, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more tender. He hangs onto your every word like it’s the most important thing he’s ever heard — and you could literally be talking about a bug you saw on the sidewalk this morning.

If you ever need anything, Bachira’s the first one to jump in and help, no questions asked. He’d go out of his way just to make you smile, even if it means a truckload of extra effort on his part.

Sometimes, he hints at deeper feelings in his usual roundabout way — in little jokes that might just have a hint of truth behind them. But he always plays it off as just that, a joke.

If you’re feeling down, he’s the first to notice, offering comfort in the form of goofy antics or just sitting with you in silence if that’s what you want.

If you ever confront him directly and ask if he feels something more than just being friends, Bachira might just spill everything in a rush of words; unable to keep his feelings hidden any longer. But until then, he’s content simply being by your side, even if it means he isn’t being entirely honest to himself.

[just-here-to-art0-0]

Tartober Day 2 - Facade

Since I don't currently have a very humanoid tartar design I decided to interpret the facade as the telephone he uses to communicate, and the code being his true form. Hopefully I was able to get that across. :)

Going to use tartober as a reason to mess around with some different kinds of shading and effects so expect various different kinds of shading and lineart ect. Just for funsies.

[amourane]

kick in the right direction

pairing: football player!seungcheol x mascot!reader

genre: fluff, university au

w/c: 0.9k

summary: seungcheol is the star football player in your university but he becomes a bumbling mess in front of you.

warnings: none, you do get hit by a ball though

a/n: i have decided to start writing fics for seventeen too because i just love them way way too much <3 also disclaimer this post used to be under my old url httphannie <3

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. He usually has an explanation for his actions. There doesn’t seem to be anything coming to his mind when he sees you on the ground. The problem with being the star player on the football team was the amount of trust his coach put on him. As well as the thought that they needed to win every game, that wasn’t a problem though because Choi Seungcheol was a beast when he was in game mode. His aim was the best on the whole team, he’d never missed a goal. 

Obviously today was an off day.

“You’re staring, Cheol.” Jeonghan gives him a hearty slap on the back. “You really like our school mascot don’t you?” All Seungcheol can do is nod, watching as Seungkwan helps you up.

He really wants to go over and say sorry for nearly knocking you out with his kick but he can’t. Not because he doesn’t want to but because he simply can’t. It’s stupid really. Choi Seungcheol, star player of the football team, can’t say two words when he’s faced with you. He’s tried speaking to you. Once after a game, not the best choice because he’d become so nervous he spilt his water bottle all over you. Even after you told him it was fine he was still stuttering his words. Another time he’d managed to catch you walking down the hallway. The moment you smiled and said ‘hi’ his mind blanked. No words could come out of his mouth and he stood there gaping like a goldfish.

Talking to girls was easy for Seungcheol. He could give them a smile and they’d be fawning all over him. You were different. There isn’t one time he’s had a full conversation with you with nothing embarrassing happening. He’d stumble over his words or nothing would come out of his mouth. The only thing that kept him from giving up was the fact you would grin every time he came up to you and he didn’t like giving up.

“Of course I like her!” Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “I just don't know what to do?”

“You could ask her out.”

“I can’t!” 

His friend arches an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean you can't ask her out? Like you're scared, or you don't know how to, because those two are completely different things." Jeonghan's tone is gentle but probing, urging Seungcheol to confront the root of his hesitation.

“That’s not it. I’ve got everything planned out. I know what to say and I know where I want to bring her to. There’s a whole plan in my notebook, it’s coloured in and everything!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Seungcheol fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Whenever I go up to her to ask her out my throat closes and I can’t find the right words. Or when I try to even write my confession, my hand freezes and no letters can be written. It’s even worse because I manage to make a fool of myself whenever I’m in front of her!” He kicks the football away.

Jeonghan sighs, staring at Seungcheol as he aimed a perfect kick to the goal. The boy was completely enamoured by you. Practically the whole school knew about his crush on you. Everyone was just waiting for the day the both of you would come in hand in hand. 

//

“Y/n, oh my god! Are you okay?” Seungkwan was shaking you by your shoulders. You rub your head. That football was really hard. Who knew air could hurt you? “How many fingers am I holding up?” He waves three fingers around and your eyes struggle to adjust to his trembling hand.

“Calm down. I just got hit in the head, I don’t have a concussion or anything.” You just know there’s going to be a huge bump on your forehead tomorrow. “It’s partly Stuart’s fault.” You pat the dragon costume you had on. The fuzzy green body was heavy and the long swishy tail at the back was quite annoying to lug around.

"Why are you blaming our mascot? Stuart did nothing wrong," Seungkwan interjects, shooting a pointed glare at Seungcheol. "Star player my ass." He mutters under his breath, clearly unimpressed.

“Hey, don’t blame him. I’m sure it was an accident.” You give Seungcheol a little smile and an ‘okay’ sign to tell him everything was fine. 

“I can’t believe you like that dumbass, he can’t string two sentences together when he’s in front of you.” Seungkwan helps you up, handing you Stuart’s head. You dust off the dirt on your costume. 

What was there not to like about Choi Seungcheol? He was popular, athletic, smart and talented in everything. Not to mention he was the literal definition of eye candy. There hadn’t been many occasions where you two had met. He’d always stutter helplessly or his cheeks would resemble a fire truck, which was very endearing. It was quite funny seeing him stumble over his words whenever he tried to ask you out.

“Why don’t you just ask him out? You already know he likes you, not that he makes it the most obvious thing in the world.” 

“But isn't it just the cutest thing when he tries to ask me out but he’s a stuttering blushing mess?” You giggle when you catch sight of the pout Seungcheol has on his face. “I hope he asks me out soon though, I can’t wait to finally go on a date with him.” 

The smile you shoot at Seungcheol has him tripping over his feet, face planting into the ground. Suppressing your laughter behind your hand, you watch as he hurriedly picks himself up, only to see his teammates rolling on the floor with amusement.

“How long are you even willing to wait?”

“As long as it takes.”

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption, curse words

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women. 

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,” 

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls. 

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks. 

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind. 

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment wasn't that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse. 

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm.

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment. 

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep. 

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

[luveline]

I love your writings about the marauders, and I recently had a thought about the boys first coming in contact with a vibrator or any sex toy really. Not even a like smut thing but just then walking into a muggle sex shop or they made a friend with a muggle girl and they stumble upon in some way lol idk, just a funny thought that’s been making me giggle a bit. If you have any thoughts I guess?? Hope you have a good day :)

this isn’t smut but it is explicit - mdni please! fem, 1k

“What is that?” Sirius asks.

You get yanked back. “God, sorry,” James says, letting go of your hand. You’d been in a weird fugue state of joy with his fingers twined in yours; it’s the first time he’s held your hand. You can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic, you can never tell with the boys. “Wait, what is that?” 

“What’s what?” you ask, trying to follow their gaze. You’re on a crowded high street divided by a two way road. It’s so loud you can’t hear yourself think, and stopping as you have has diverted foot traffic around you poorly. 

“There’s a cock in the window.” 

Remus yelps a laugh. You smile, befuzzled, as he takes your shoulders into his hand and turns you bodily to the right shop window. “Oh,” you say. “Oh! There really is.” 

There is a vast array of the aforementioned appendage in the window, and in a variety of sizes and colours. A mannequin in dark lingerie holds a fifty percent off sign to the left, while a poster brags a multitude of ‘stimulating pleasures’ to be found inside. 

“What am I looking at?” Sirius asks.

You forget sometimes how sheltered they all are. They’d gone to a rather elite boarding school, and they all lived in rural England and Wales for their summers. This is as city as they’ve ever been, and you’d thought they’d seen everything there is to see by now, but apparently not. 

How are you supposed to explain a sex shop? Better, why is fate making you? They all turn to you for an explanation. 

“Remus, you’re twenty three,” you say hopelessly. 

“We’ve only recently relocated,” Remus argues. 

“You’ve known me for six months. You’ve lived here for eight.” 

“And yet we’ve never seen that,” James says, pointing at the lingerie. “You’re such perverts in the city. Why are there rainbow cocks in the window?” 

“Can we stop saying that?” you ask. 

“Sorry,” James says quickly. “Lovely girl, why are the dicks in the window?” 

“They’re toys,” you say, feeling a little part of yourself shrivel away in shyness, their eyes like heat from your face and neck. 

“For kids?” Sirius asks, disgusted. 

“No! God, no, they’re for grown ups.” You shake your head uselessly. “Are you messing with me? You’ve really never seen them?” 

“We’ve seen some rather tasteful underwear in our time,” Sirius says, to James’ delight and Remus’ derision. 

“Stop,” Remus says. 

“We have to go in. I must understand these toys,” Sirius says, ignoring him with ease. There’s something to his usually nice smile you don’t know, some burning excitement that will likely end in innuendos and teasings galore for you. 

You make your way into the sex shop, shoes dragging, cheeks hot. James and Sirius seem as though they could burst into laughter at any second, but Remus is more understanding. He offers you his hand when he realises you’re behind them. You don’t have the strength to refuse him. 

They’re the weirdest friends you’ve ever had, but also the best ones. They love holding hands and crossing legs and laying half on top of each other when they come around to watch a film. You’re pretty sure you saw James and Remus kissing a few weeks ago, but they’ve yet to say anything about it to you, so what do you know? You’d been jealous, but each boy has continued to love on you just a little too much considering the parameters of your ‘friendship’. 

This lies firmly outside of your parameters, you decide. 

Sure, you’ve thought about them sometimes as more than friends, but they don’t know that. Can you be blamed? They’re all so handsome in awful ways —Remus classic, Sirius Grecian, and James devilish. James. You shake your head in an attempt to dispel thoughts of their good looks while in close proximity to lacy knickers, turning your attention to the ridiculous gasps of awe the two idiots are letting out. 

“What is that?” Sirius asks delightedly, knuckling at a row of plastic sex toys, all with different functions. 

“That’s a…” You blow a breath up your face in an attempt to cool down. “Read the label, Siri.” 

“Most of this stuff is for girls?” James asks you. 

“I guess so.” You poke at the pink packaging of a glass massage wand. “I mean, not always. I think anybody can use all this stuff too. Or most of it.”

“What about that?” 

James points at a vibrator in clear blister packaging. “A vibrator? What’s that do?” He turns to you with a surprisingly innocent curiosity. 

“It vibrates.” You don’t want to say anything else, but they’re your friends. They’re nice to you, and they respect you, so it’s not like you think telling them these things will put you in an uncomfortable position. “You know how girls have a harder time finishing sometimes?” 

If they’re surprised to hear you say it aloud, they don’t show it. “Not in my experience,” Sirius jokes. 

“So the vibration helps?” 

“It’s very intense. It makes the… climax come much quicker,” you say. 

Remus seems very grateful for the energy your explanation takes, giving you a caring smile. He’s about to say something when Sirius interrupts, and asks, “Do you have one?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Remus says, hitting Sirius in the arm. “She doesn’t have to answer that, don’t ask her stuff like that, it’s private.” 

Sirius’ eyes go wide. “I’m sorry,” he says to you, all joking gone from his face. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just forget sometimes that you have boundaries we don’t have.” 

You’re not expecting such a genuine and sudden apology, because maybe Sirius shouldn’t ask, but you totally understand what he means. You feel like you’ve known them all your life. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I know what you’re like.” 

“So it’s a good time, hypothetically,” James says. 

“What do you reckon that feels like?” Sirius asks, already moving on. 

“Sirius,” Remus pleads. 

“Sweetheart, can I ask you, hypothetically,” —Sirius taps his converse to yours, grinning— “what do you mean, it’s quicker? How does that even work?” 

You frown, “You don’t know how it works?” 

Remus and James laugh like bellows beside you. They laugh so much the woman behind the counter glares at you all, undoubtedly tired of people coming in here for a laugh. 

“Awful girl,” Sirius says, frowning. 

You smile back. “It just stimulates the nerves, Sirius. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it’s kinda like magic or something.” 

“Magic can’t do that,” James says. Remus elbows him hard, and you’ve no idea why. 

[enwoso]

Kyra loving to mess with Lovie but she takes it too far one day and lovie gets very upset and tells on Kyra to alessia and Steph. Maybe Kyra hides esme the elephant and Lovie is in desperate need of a nap and can’t sleep without it

NOT COOL — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

you and kyra had a special type of relationship, maybe that's because kyra was like a big kid and loved doing silly things with you. like colouring in your entire arms with paint or making you own little world out of a cardboard box.

but kyra also loved to be a pest and that meant messing with you and sometimes pushing the wrong buttons. usually you wouldn't mind it and would find the funniness out of the joke.

but today kyra had taken it too far.

she had been taking your toys one by one and hiding them from you or putting them out of your reach before giving it back to you. but right now she holding your barbie in the air, as you struggled to reach it.

the young australian lifting it higher in her hand with each jump you did to try and get it. kyra giggling to herself as she watched you struggle and start to get frustrated.

you got bored of trying to get the barbie doll and wondered back off towards your mummy who was sat with steph as the talked over a coffee. alessia noticing you coming over with a sad frown on your face as she opened her arms for you to fall into.

"what's wrong lovie?" mummy asked as she lifted you onto her lap, steph sending you a small smile but the frown was still on your face.

"rara won't give me my barbie back" you pouted as you sunk into your mummy's arms. a small gasp came from steph as she shook her head.

"well we can't be having that, she's naughty isn't she" steph nodded as you said a small yes, a little chuckle came from alessia as usually it was you and kyra causing trouble together.

"i'll get your barbie back for you lovie, but do you want to have a little sleep while we are in the gym?" mummy asks as you nod. alessia could tell you were a little sleepy just from the way you wondered over. that and the fact you had basically sunk into her arms.

"i'll get your blankie from the car, okay" mummy says as she lifts you from her lap before mumbling to steph she wouldn't be long, steph just waving the blonde off as she rushed out the room her car keys jangling in her hand.

"wait, i need esme" you pouted as you eyes scanned around you from your favourite teddy. steph looking around too for you. "is that your elephant stuffy?" steph asked as you nodded.

"where did you have her last tiny?" steph asked as you sat for a moment in thought before perking up a little, "with rara"

"do you wanna go and see if esme is still in there, and i'll wait here?" steph suggested as you slipped down the seat and wondered into the room next door, to look for your elephant stuffy.

in the time you were in the room next door, alessia had came back with your blankie a puzzled look on her face to see you not sat with steph anymore.

"don't worry she's just gone to find her esme the elephant" steph smiled as alessia let out a sigh of relief.

"good she can't sleep without her little elephant, she's had it since she was born" alessia explained sitting back down in her seat as she lifted her coffee cup back up to her lips taking a sip, a small twist of the lips as the coffee had started to go cold.

the two fell back into conversation just as you wondered slowly through the door, a sad smile on your face. a one not two dissimilar to the one you first walked into the room with.

"i lost esme" you whispered, your bottom lip wobbling slightly as you walked into your mummy's arms. your mummy started to coo as you wondered into her arms, your entire mood deflated at the thought of looking your special esme elephant.

alessia knew it was only a matter of time before you would start to cry, it was like a ticking time bomb. you were going to boom any moment so alessia needed to find a solution and quick.

"can you remember where you had esme?" your mummy asked softly as she moved your loose hairs that had fallen from you bobbles out from your face as you shook your head, your bottom lip still wobbling. steph looking in with a pout.

“well i need to find it because she won’t have a nap or even sleep without it” alessia sighed as she tried to think of where you could of put the small elephant teddy.

“you don’t think kyra would have esme?” steph whispered as you’d moved so that your head was now buried in your mummy’s chest as you twirled the ends of your hair around your finger. a motion you only ever did if you were tired.

“more likely to of hid it” alessia grumbled, her and steph thinking of places alessia could look around the training ground. steph already agreeing to watch you as the blonde did the rounds of the training ground looking out for either kyra or esme the elephant. knowing whichever one she found first the other wouldn’t be far behind.

alessia began to peel you from her arms as you whined not wanting to let go, “no mummy-“ you pouted as you were placed on the coldness of the chair.

“lovie, mummy’s gonna go and find esme. you and steph can watch peppa on your ipad” alessia pointed towards steph who had your ipad in her hand tapping away at it.

you quietly groaned as tiredness was taking over your body as you slowly moved closer to steph so you could see what was on your ipad screen as alessia slipped out the room.

alessia should have known trying to find the young australian wouldn’t have been an easy task, alessia had looked in every corner, room even going as far to ask everyone she’s passed in the training ground and nobody had seen kyra. alessia was starting to think the girl had gone home.

“you haven’t seen kyra?” alessia asked leah who looked up from her laptop a shake of the head as alessia sighed moving onto the next spot.

stopping a few other of her teammates, manu, vic, laura, kim, stina. as they all gave the same answer, “no sorry” before telling the blonde who next to ask or where to look next. alessia feeling like she was detective trying to crack a high status case with nobody telling her the answer she wanted to hear.

“oh, have you seen kyra?” alessia asked katie as she passed her in the corridor, katie paused for a moment before shaking her head, “no what she done now?” katie laughed.

“she’s got lovies esme the elephant” alessia sighed as another laugh came from katie. “have you tried the gym? there’s a couple people in there i think” katie told alessia as she nodded taking the advice before thanking katie and moving further down the corridor.

"have any of you seen kyra?" alessia spoke fast as she poked her head through the gym doors beth and lia looked at the blonde before at each other before shaking their heads. "no why?"

"she's took lovie's teddy" alessia sighed as the two nodded, "and she won't have her nap without it"

"have you tried outside?" lia suggested as a slight smile came onto the blondes fast that was the one place she hadn't looked.

"your a genius lia!" before the two had a chance to response alessia was out the door rushing towards the pitches as lia and beth both looked at each other with a similar puzzled look on both their faces before they shrugged carrying on with their stretches.

alessia rushed towards the pitches seeing kyra in the distance playing with one of the footballs as she blasted it into the goal in the distance.

"kyra!" alessia yelled across the pitch as the young australian turned around her smile dropping when she saw the unfamiliar serious look on alessia's face, a one the young australian hadn't seen many times before.

"hi lessi" kyra said so innocently as with each step alessia took towards the australian, kyra would take to back. alessia rolling her eyes having very little patience for silly game after spending twenty minutes looking for the girl.

"drop the act, where's the elephant teddy?" alessia asked getting straight to the point as kyra just shrugged a smirk threatening to perk through her lips.

“what elephant? i haven’t seen no elephant?”

"kyra, this is not cool i'm being serious, she won't have her nap without it. where is it?" alessia asked a little more sternly this time as the australian sighed, feeling a tiny bit bad and the fact the game was over now.

"in my bag in the locker room." kyra said quietly as before kyra had even finished the word room alessia was rushing back from the pitches to the locker room where she’d started her search nearly thirty minutes ago.

making it back to the locker room and low and behold their was your esme, her head popping out the bag. it being very obvious really where it was, alessia being slightly annoyed with herself that she didn’t see it the first time she was in there.

shoving kyra’s bag back where it was when she first walked in she walked the long stretch of the corridor back to where you were sat with steph, esme the elephant held tightly in the blondes hand. part of being scared that if she did have even the slightest of looser grip on the teddy that it may go missing again.

walking through the double doors, steph immediately looking over a small sigh of relief coming from her as she looked back to where you were, still immensely engrossed in the peppa pig show on your ipad.

alessia walked a little closer holding the teddy up in the air like some sort of trophy and in a way it was as it meant you’ll finally be able to go for your nap. a small stifle of a laughter coming from steph at alessia’s actions.

you moving your head to look at what the commotion was in the room, looking and seeing your mummy walking towards you, a gasp coming from you as you made grabby hands for your esme. alessia lifting you from steph’s lap as you sunk into the warmth of your mummy’s arms.

“need i ask?” steph asked with a wince as she had a feeling already who esme the elephant had ended up a victim to. a shake of the head came from alessia as you settled into her arms, your teddy snuggled up to you as a comforting sigh fell from your lips as you eyes slowly began to flutter shut.

“she’s such a pest” steph joked as alessia hummed loudly agreeing, “she is — at times”

[joonieskinks]

I just read your blurb where reader wakes up and she’s married to Sergeant Soap and not Captain Soap but I feel like what if it’s reversed. What if she’s this young bonnie thing with a young husband and then she wakes up to be married to older, slightly more mature, Captain MacTavish.

uh- HELLO?? I love it. Sorry it took so long but here you go, hope I did it justice xx

warning: age gap so shoo if ur not into it

You sat up slowly in the bed, stilling orientating yourself and emerging from sleep. You had thought the sheets felt a little different, but assumed that maybe you were still dreaming. It was only when your eyes opened did you realize you weren’t at home anymore.

You were on base in the early morning, in a room that looked an awful like your husband’s when you would come to see him and stay with him for a couple nights. Well, that was what you did until his passing.

Johnny and you were a young love. He got down on one knee before he was even 23, and got to the altar before 24. You only got a couple months with him as husband and wife- a young widow they now called you. Everyday is hard, but that horrible day you received the news plays over and over in your mind all the time like a nightmare you just can’t shake.

John, Simon and Kyle all came to your door to tell you personally. They cried with you and stayed with you, they promised they would help take care of you, always. It’s what Johnny would have wanted.

The panic finally began to sink in as you could not remember how you got here. Everything was different but also incredibly familiar. This was the base alright, but the layout seemed altered, the paint a different colour. Looking around, you turned on the nightstand light, eyes briefly glancing at the framed photo beside.

It was like your blood turned cold.

There was your Johnny.

That’s your Johnny with his boys, with John, Simon, Kyle. But older, so much older. But he was alive, he was smiling, he’s so handsome and he’s there-

You shot out of bed, running into the hallway, searching for anyone, any familiar face. For your husband. Is he your husband? If he’s older? But how is he alive? Is he still alive?

The questions running around your head, threatening to ignite tears from your eyes. You turn a sharp corner, bumping straight into a hefty figure.

“Sorry” you stumbled out, trying to regain your balance.

“‘S alright.” The man started, looking down at the small, young girl who’s a frantic mess before him.

“Hey, hold on,” he starts again, and you glance up. Coming face to face with John Price. Much older, a thicker beard adorning his face, but that same damn hat. It was him.

“Slow down there a sec and-“

“John?”

The recognition in your voice stops him in his tracks, he looks you over for a couple seconds and shakes his head.

“Think you might be mistaken, love.” He smiles gently, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Johnathon Price- Captain. You, Kyle, Simon and my Johnny were all on Taskforce 141 when we met. You even came to our wedding, you were one of the groomsmen for crying out loud. I-“

“Stop right there.” John orders, his hands coming to grip your shoulders. “How could you possibly know about all that?”

“John, I know you. Now, what’s going on? How did I get here and why’re you older?” You asked, utterly confused and exhausted, you needed answers and you needed them now.

He glanced around the room before making his decision.

“Alright, come with me. We’ve gotta talk.”

-

John sat you down in a private room with a two-way mirror where you told him all about himself, how you woke up here and your marriage. Your Johnny MacTavish, your young husband who went by Soap. Everything, you laid it all on the table, the task force, the mission, the death. Everything.

And John believed you, as crazy as it sounded, from wherever you came from and however you got here- because how else could you know all this?

As he listened, he kept looking to your ring finger, the gold band adorning that you refused to ever take off. He admired your devotion.

John sat, silent when you finished, glancing towards the mirror every now again. Thinking and planning his next move.

“Wait here.” He stood up from his chair and left out the door, leaving you with your own thoughts. But only the same questions were on repeat.

Where am I? What was that photo? Why is he older? Is he still alive? Does he know who I am? Would he think I’m crazy? What now?

You almost didn’t register the sound of Price opening the door again until his figure reappeared. He could only stare at you, empathy in his eyes. Although this was a weird situation, he could tell you were genuine and wanted to help, so he trusted you. Anything for his boys, Johnny included.

“He’s been listening.” John starts and you draw in a breath.. You didn’t even know you were holding it.

He? As in your Johnny?

“He would like to meet you, if you’d like to see him-“

“Yes.” You reply without thinking.

Eager for anything, anything at all that could bring you a glimpse Johnny. The love of your life taken so young, life was so cruel and unfair. Taking him just as you were happiest. He was alive but was this still your Johnny? From the photo he was older, he’s different. He probably doesn’t even know who you are, for all you know he could be married, have his own kids. Who the hell are you to interrupt all of that?

“Then I’ll take my leave.” John huffs, interrupting your thoughts. He eyes you up and down one last time before exiting once again.

You sit up from your chair instinctively, playing with your ring. It’s only now that the doubt hits you like a truck.

Would he believe you? Would he laugh you off? Would he even like what he sees?

The thoughts raced until he opened up the door, reveling himself to you. Then you could only stare in shock.

That was your Johnny.

Older, yes. But that was him. Banged up with more scars, he looks tired yet wears his age well, you just wish you could’ve seen him grow older alongside you… But that’s your Johnny alright.

His eyes drag from the floor to meet yours and he offers you a small smile. It’s enough to shoot the air back into your lungs and for your heart to beat again. The tears starts to leave your eyes and your hands shoot up to wipe them away.

Johnny takes a good look at you and particularly that golden wedding band that he supposedly gave you. It’s still always been his dream to marry a girl like you, in some odd way he feels proud that in another life he got you. A gorgeous, caring and devoted wife that he could love up and spoil. Johnny knows himself and in any life, he would do the same: wife up a woman like you. Looks like he did. Looks like he still could.

“I ‘eard what ye said.” He softly speaks. You close your eyes at the sound. It feels so good to hear him again. A little different, but it’s still him.

“Bonnie, ye don’t have to cry.”

He steps forward to cup your face, wiping your tears away with his fingers. You place your own hands over his, keeping him there. Having him touch you again, it’s better than anything you could have ever prayed for. This is all you think about and to finally have it all come true. Even if it’s just for a second, you’d trade it all away.

“My wife, eh?” Johnny jokes to try and lighten the mood. You look up into his eyes and laugh with a smile despite the tears still leaking. He doesn’t mind, he wipes them still anyway.

“It’s so good to see you again.” You confess, a hand leaving his to touch his scarred face. From his cheeks, a thumb over his chin and his lips. He’s so hard to look away from, how handsome he grew up to be. His gaze and attention makes you bite your lip out of habit. A blush flooding your cheeks- he still has the same effect on you. Damn.

The feeling goes straight to your core, and you react before you can think. Bringing your face to his, foreheads resting against each others while your hands explore his back and shoulders, his neck and through his hair. Something he used to love, and it makes you whine a little when he moans at the feeling. He loves your touch just as much.

“Lass, yer doin’ somethin’ wild to me.” Johnny stumbles out, his hands coming to rest on your waist, pulling you in until you’re flush with his body. He feels so good, so toned under his clothes and solid. You didn’t want him to stop, your mind starting to spin.

He runs his hands up your sides, gliding your shirt up to touch the bare skin underneath. The slightest touch has you moaning his name out and he can’t help but swell with pride as he sees this gorgeous, young girl before him come apart, desperate for more of him. His ego has never felt so big until this moment.

“Johnny…”

“What do y’a need?” He mumbles out against your lips, brushing them with just enough touch to set your skin on fire, begging for more.

“Kiss me.” You lean further into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. It’s all too much, and yet you want more. God, you knew that if he were to take you right here in this room, you’d come undone within a minute. Easily. Happily.

“Please.”

“Well- what the wife wants, the wife gets.” He chuckles as he clashes his lips to yours, his large frame utterly engulfing your small one. The way he uses your title so easily, wife- you can’t help but need more of him everywhere, all over like a wife deserves from her husband. Your own hands itching for more of him to touch, your mouths moving together, tongues finding each other as he hums against you.

Johnny guides you and gently backs you up against the wall, a hand protecting your head as your body meets it. You try to pull him even closer to you, grabbing at his clothes when you realize you need him completely bare. It’s been so long since you’ve felt good, only ever wanting your husband. And now here he is just for you. You wonder if he’s even better now with his age... Hard to tell without a test drive.

But it’s only when you need to part for air that some of reality comes back to you.

Guilt.

“Wait, Johnny.” The alarm bells go off in his head and he looks at you worriedly.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing his eyebrows crease you immediately try to calm him. Another kiss to his lips and he eases up a bit. Just like he used to.

“I need to know. Do you- do you already have someone? A wife?”

Your nerves hit once more. He could still have someone in this universe or wherever you are. And even like this, you couldn’t be that woman that ruins a marriage. Even if he does feel rightfully yours.

Johnny smiles a bit at the question before glancing downward, almost as if he’s shy or embarrassed.

“Nay, never did.” He starts before taking your cheeks back into his hands, looking into your eyes.

“Just you.”

The biggest smile breaks out on your face, your hands tugging at his shirt to bring his lips back down to yours. He feels good, warm, right. Yours. Still yours. Always yours.

“I know I’m a little young, but that doesn’t bother you, does it?” You ask with a slight smirk against his lips.

Johnny just laughs, his hands working their way down your body to cup your ass almost possessively.

“Certainly not.” His eyes looking all over your face, taking you all in. Gods, you’re gorgeous and all his? He could still hardly believe it, but he’ll be damned if he didn’t at least get to know you and try to make it all work with you. He owes that much to himself.

“Does it bother you?”

“Hmm? You being older?” You ask innocently.

Johnny only nods, still admiring your beautiful face, his girl.

You shake your head no, not daring to look away from his gaze.

“I think it’s sexy, Sergeant John MacTavish.” You quip teasingly.

A groan escapes his lips, his pants straining against him almost painfully at this point. He needed you now or he might combust.

“This room or mine?” Johnny whispers, bringing his knee in between your legs and his mouth to your ear.

“And it’s Captain now, bonnie. Make a decision or I’ll make one for ya. Put on a show.” He glances to the two-way mirror and a nervous giggle leaves your lips.

Your husband most certainly would do such a thing.

-

Johnny was sure to make you use his proper title as he properly had you in bed, as well as used yours.

And with your volume and his reach, everyone on the base now knew he had a wife.

Things were complicated, sure, but you two would figure it out. He knew you both wanted to give it a try and were both willing despite it all.

And after a few weeks, he decides that all there’s left to do is buy a ring of his own that’ll match yours.

[satowooo]

" YOU'RE THE ONE I WANT IN PAPER RINGS. . ."

I like shiny things but I'll marry you with paper rings ft. gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento.

contents. fluff, fluff, fluff, not proofread.

౨ৎ GOJO SATORU

“Shush, don't look!”

Satoru had been focused on folding a piece of paper for the past 30 minutes now, ever since you two sat on a table and planned to make paper flowers for the students to celebrate the year end. You just asked him about what he's doing, only to be replied with a scolding and him turning his back on you to hide the piece of paper. You could hear his small grunts and complaints every single time he messed up and redid it all over again, noticing him folding it in a different way from a paper flower and it was even cut smaller. It was the first time you had seen him struggling over a matter as small as folding papers, when he wasn't even having a hard time on the paper flowers earlier though, and Satoru seems to not be fond of not getting everything his way on an easier path either.

Since when did making paper rings become so difficult anyway?

“Okay. You don't want me to help with whatever that is?”

“No. Just stay put.”

You bite your lip to stop a chuckle, noticing the way his shoulders slumped when you heard him accidentally tore the paper, so you obeyed and looked away. He turned around again, leaning on the table to get another paper, and got to work. His slender fingers carefully folding and twisting, his eyes solely focused on it, with his brows furrowed in determination and even a small pout for the thousand of times he messed up and probably on the verge of giving up, if not because he was making a paper ring because wanted to please you.

It took him another good 15 minutes to do it right, a little wrinkled on one side but the heart on the ring was perfect. He scooted over to your side, and you finally looked at him.

He took your hand, and slipped the paper ring on your ring finger, making you gasp as you finally see the blue material fit you perfectly. “I did my best, baby.”

“Satoru!”

“I know it's not much, and I mean, I can probably give you a more expensive one with diamonds and shiny crystals but I just thought this one would mean more and much more endearing and I tried to make it after watching a video that I saw using my memory and I just think–” He stopped, blinking as he realised how much he had rambled. Satoru sighed, gazing at your hand, lifting it up to press a kiss on your knuckle, right next to the ring. “Do you like it?”

“Of course, I do!”

“Then should we call a priest right now?"

౨ৎ GETO SUGURU

It was originally Mimiko and Nanako’s ideas. The two girls lay on their stomach right by the floor with their feet swaying in the air, their homeworks long forgotten on either side of them. There were tons of papers around them, in different colours and shapes when Suguru caught them slacking around in their bedroom.

“Papa! Make a paper ring for Mama!” Mimiko suggested, patting the space between them so Suguru could join in the fun.

“Are you done with your homeworks, sweethearts?” He chuckled, taking his spot, laying flat on the stomach with his feet also high in the air like some teenage girls.

“Of course!” Nanako, who was obviously lying for the way she blushed and can't look Suguru straight on the face, as she pressed something on the origami that she made which was shaped in a frog, and it jumped towards his side.

Suguru couldn't help but be amazed, but also wanting to tease his girls. “Really? Can I see?” He said as he reached for their notebooks.

Mimiko was quick to act, slapping her dad’s big hands away with her small ones so he would drop it, then thrashing a bunch of paper in front of him instead. “Mama would like paper rings!”

And that's exactly how he found himself making one. With the help of his daughters, they instructed him on what to do for a good 15 minutes. He'd get confused sometimes every time they talked at the same time, instructions unclear when they talk about different things. But he got the hang of it, and it was perfect, as expected from Suguru.

Now, he's sitting on the bed, with his back pressed on the headboard, as he got you straddling his lap as you two talked about your day, while the two girls had gone to sleep.

“The girls were very enthusiastic today.” He said, his thumb caressing small circles on your inner thigh as he gazed at you. “They taught me how to make origami, and something else…”

“Hmm? What is it?” You replied, eyes filled with curiosity as you waited for him to continue.

You watched as he pulled something out from the bedside cabinet, a red paper shaped in a small circle. You couldn't see much because his hands were covering it a bit, but when he took your hand and wore it on your finger, you realised what it was.

“I made it, but it took all our efforts.” He whispered, watching as you gaped at the paper ring. “They're not the best teachers though.”

“It's beautiful…”

Suguru didn't expect the next thing you did. As you clutched on his shirt and immediately crashed your lips together, your hands coming to the back of his neck and deepening the kiss. Your lips dancing in harmony to the rhythm of your heartbeats.

He pulled away, breathless as he cups your cheek. “I'd ask you to marry me right now, but we'll save that for some other time.” He chuckled, pulling you in for another kiss.

౨ৎ CHOSO KAMO

It was a sweet gesture. Your boyfriend prepared all the materials needed and even borrowed his brother Yuji’s ipad so you could watch tutorials on YouTube. Ever since he saw you scrolling on your Instagram reels about making paper stars, flowers, little animals, hearts, and all other cute things, he was determined to do the activity with you. And he wanted to make sure that you'll enjoy it as much as he would.

“Let's make this one!” You scrolled onto a video, showing him a tutorial on how to make a scrapbook, which he agreed to.

You two worked on it right away, both of you busy while you cut some papers and draw on it, while he folds some others into shapes that would look good on the scrapbook. Once in a while, he would try to steal kisses on your lips every time he finishes one.

After a few minutes, you got up to go upstairs and print some pictures that you'd add on the book, leaving Choso alone with folding a new set of papers. This time, he made a mini bouquet, which was unexpectedly quite easy. And then last, the paper ring.

When you got back, you placed the printed papers on the table as you two got to work again. But your eyes caught the mini bouquet resting beside the others, and your eyes glinted.

“Choso! That's so cute! How did you make that?” You scooted closer to him, taking the mini bouquet in your hands, the paper tiny in your hands. “Are you putting this on the book?”

Choso blushed, nuzzling his face on your neck. “It's actually for you.” He muttered, his breath fanning on your skin that made you shiver. “They're small and cute, I thought you'd like it.”

You smiled, cupping his cheek so he could look at you. “Really?”

“Mhm. And I have another one too.”

He showed you the pink paper ring, and your eyes widened in shock. He was about to put in on your ring finger when you turned around, snatching something from underneath the table.

“Cho! I made you one too!”

Was it fate? But nevertheless, it got Choso blushing and almost kicking his feet as butterflies filled his stomach. His palms covering his mouth to probably stop him from reacting exaggeratedly while you slipped the paper ring in his finger. It was even the same colour as the one he made, and he swears his heart was about to burst.

౨ৎ NANAMI KENTO

How many times did you and Nanami get married this year? Three. Three times in a row. The first time was in a shrine, doing the Japanese traditional way of weddings, a wedding held privately with only your families. Second was at the church, with both your families and friends this time, with you wearing a beautiful white wedding dress as your husband awaits in the altar, looking as dashing as ever. And this might be the third.

“Honey, marry me.” He muttered, his feet tapping on the floor impatiently, watching you type on your laptop for a school document.

“We're already married, Kento?” You asked, glancing back at him once before you're back to rapidly tapping on your keyboard. The noise filled the air, together with Nanami’s sighed.

“I know. But you seem married to your laptop for the past few hours, honey.”

Nanami is not one to complain about this type of thing, in fact, he's a very understanding man that he wouldn't mind if you're stuck doing paperworks all day, unless you wouldn't be sparing him a glance, giving him a kiss, or a hug during the said day, and that would make him open up his concerns a bit. How many hours had passed anyway? Four long hours of torture for him, that he had convinced himself enough that he was the clingy one in the relationship and not you.

“Are you asking for my undivided attention, Kento?” You laughed, finally tearing your gaze away from your laptop as you spun your swivel chair at him.

He pulled the chair from underneath so you're closer to him, his right knee between your thighs as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. “Indeed. And I don't think I can live another second of you not talking to me for another hour, not even a kiss since this morning.”

“I'm sorry,” you giggled, kissing him one more time to show that you were truly apologetic. “Were you lonely?”

“A bit.” He sighed, caressing your cheeks, then pulled away as he leaned back on his chair. “You do look adorable when you're focused, honey, which I'm always pleased to see. But I have to give you something.”

He slid his swivel chair backward a bit, grabbed something on a nearby table and went back to your spot right away. He took your hands, sliding a white paper ring right next to your wedding ring. “I don't think you noticed me making this while you were busy.”

“Kento, how..?” Your eyes smiled with you, a testament of your appreciation and affection towards the man you love. You knew Nanami Kento had always been perfect, but he's even more perfect now that he took his time to make this for you.

He laced your fingers together with his, his heart warming up to the sight of you appreciating his small efforts. Kento loves it when you're happy, and would do anything to keep it that way for as long as he can.

“A few videos.” He shrugged, pulling your chair closer to him again. “Now, will you marry me?”

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 23/10✨

I'm LIVE on my TWITCH page drawing Spicynoodle! Come and say hi!

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: Ok so your Bio parent AU (loving it so much by the way) takes place after season 5 right? I thought it would be cool if you touched on Monkey Kings issues with Mk using the circuit on him. I eat that stuff up. if its already going in a different direction then that's ok, just a suggestion.

Aww in the end I don't think I can fit this in the story. It's absolutely an amazing idea, and I had thought of adding it for so long, but in the end the final part of the story will go differently.

Anonimo ha chiesto: How do Wukong and Macaque react that they have two grandchildren?? (Kai and Nya)

Will probably die of emotions. The fact that that's both their son's son/daughter, and that's their nephew/niece. It would blow them away. I'll never have children, but they completely change your prespective.

@shadowpeachera ha chiesto: AGHHHHHH XIAOTIANS WEAPON IS SOOO COOOOLLL AND THE WAY YOUR SHOWED HIM MAKING IT AGHHHHHH SO GOOD HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO COME UP WITH THE DESIGN? THE COLOURS? THE EVERYTHING UGHH I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS COMIC AGHHH

I think I did a couple of sketches before the final design, but I went on pinterest quite a lot before to see some variations of magical staff

@beanspassin ha chiesto: Do you think Macaque and Wukong will ever find out about each other secretly checking the other out? Cause let’s face it, Wukong will get a MASSIVE ego boost when he finds out Macaque was staring at him. 🤭

I think Macaque can HEAR when Wukong is checking him out. Wukong probably would negate the fact that he's checking him out, bc my boy is just a mess of emotion

@tessthe-cheesecake ha chiesto: Hello! I just wanted to say I really love your Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU I just have two questions, one: how is MK handling four ears? I assume he doesn't like crowded places (if yes then me too bud me too) ok second question would MK ever go back to being Wukong's successor but in his own way instead? :)

I think MK doesn't want to be a successor bc he doesn't want to be the next Monkey King, but he still wants to be the Monkie Kid. Also, I think he might be starting to feel himself a little more like an heir then a successor

@minli-daughter-of-wukong ha chiesto: So, would you have changed MK’s weapon if you thought a staff wasn’t really his style anymore? Also how did you come up with the idea for the sunset staff and can you give tips on how to find the right kind of weapon you’d choose for a character? So this is so long lol

I aint real good with weapon/characters. This was my first time matching a weapon to a character to be honest. I wanted to create something that was similar to both Wukong's and Macaque's staff, but at the same time being something new. With a new color palette that could represent the kind of hero MK wants to be

@cavern-of-shenanigans ha chiesto: Ok ok ok this is kind of silly but MKs new staff kind of reminds me of a twirling baton So combined with Macaques showmanship and the scarf bit MK tied on, they could play around with it and do a joint shadow play/ribbon dance performance! Maybe add him into the hero warrior story? Nice mother son bonding activity because its cute

HA! true! they are performance duo!

@ashmeertheimp ha chiesto: Hi love your fan art, story,and art style! What if piggsy and Tang went on a long trip and lives in flower fruit Mountain

I don't think freenoodle could survive living so close to shadowpeach

@italian-wizarding-world ha chiesto: Duuude i love, Love, LOVE!!! your art, and your Mk, Wu and Mama it's just too sweet, just two question: 1 Why sunset and not dawn? is it because usually sunset are more impresive? or maybe the staff has two "forms" depending on him using more his shadow powers and if so can he change between them? 2 We need red son reaction to Mk essentially magical girl transformation even if it's just a sparkling staff, because i think it would be epic/hilarious. We need more moment about them and Mei lookin at how dumb both are

I liked sunset because in a way MK started more with Sun powers and he is now discovering more his Macaque side of powers, so he's approaching a little bit the shadows (so his journey was from day to slowly twilight)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you ever thought about drawing an adult MK? I love your drawing style, and I wanted to see what an adult MK would look like, as well as Mei and Red Son. Você já pensou em desenhar um MK adulto? Eu amo seu estilo de desenho, e eu queria ver como seria um MK adulto, assim como Mei e Red Son.(I'm Brazilian by the way and I love reading your Au)

Maybe in the future....?

Anonimo ha chiesto: I REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE NO ..I ADORE YOUR DRAWINGS MAN!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ EVERY DAY I REREAD THE WHOLE LMK COMICS OF YOURS..!!!!!!❤️❤️ And hey l have a quition!!! What if mk interrupted wukong while his meditation and like wukong thinks he's in the past what is he gonna do when he see mac!?🌝❤️ Probably we will see a lot of hugs and kisses?🥹

Can you imagine since they are so cuddly even if they aren't together yet again in the AU, that because of this Macaque for a good moment DOESN'T notice the difference?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Can we get a character sheet for chiyou?

nope sorry, but he will come back no worry

Anonimo ha chiesto: Who else wants to see Pigsy and Tang show Monkey King and Macaque pictures of MK growing up?

Aww I think Wukong and Macaque would die from cuteness but at the same time feel a great remorse that they weren't there for their child when he was little. They are glad freenoodle was with them, but still, It's a big chunk of his life that they missed.

@itz-izzyart ha chiesto: So with the noise canceling headphones, does mk wear them so he (hopefully) doesn’t start hearing the past again or is it just something he wears to help him sleep at night?

Both. It helps him muffle the noise.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Would Wukong get ptsd if MK somehow got a circlet himself ?

He would probably loose all his immortalities rather than let MK have a circlet.

@loseranddummy ha chiesto: I have a ≈question≈ is Peng gonna be in your lmk bio parent comic by chance?

mmmm nope, sorry

@oddogoblino ha chiesto: Beeeeeg monke armmssss...meant for hug jail...

yessss..... and cudlleeeeeee...

Anonimo ha chiesto: :D was macaque grooming mk while they were waiting for the weapon to be forged

yup!

Anonimo ha chiesto: HI! Hope you're well and staying hydrated. Would we/could we see more Lilo and Stitch refs for your ShadowPeach bio parents au? I saw the last one and couldn't stop laughing. 😆 Maybe a beach scene or something?

I'll have to see the movie again and I'll see if new idea come in my mind

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you ever thought about that because Macaque was gone from the living world for so long he doesn't know how use modern technology. Like Wukong's phone will go off when he isn't there and Macaque can't figure out how to get the stupid thing to be quiet

They are both gay boomers, your honor

Anonimo ha chiesto: In your shadowpeach au who is a morning person and who is a night owl Macaque or Wukong?

none of them. Wukong sleeps like 12 hours and Macaque like 5. (but now he's sleeping more thanks to Wukong but still wakes up earlier than Wukong)

[yandere-yearnings]

Weird thought rant ‼️

I always see in smuts that the MC gets a belly bulge and all that but okay, hear me out, how about MALE belly bulge? I have no idea if that’s possible due to male anatomy but I just thought that would be something

Join the cause and support Male belly bulge 😸

dw nonnie, i'm alr w/ you😌✨ (+ for reference it is possible!!)

anyway, this, for vio bc i feel like it'd be more prominent on him than my other ocs. also as a little smth for all the vio fuckers who continue to dominate the inbox🥰

NSFW under the cut!

“Shit.” Gasping breaths. Intakes hitched harder and harder. “Fuck, please. Please, I’m sorr-”

Vio's words never quite made it out of his mouth, not when your fingers quickly found their place within the wetness oozing from the space between spongey tongue and roof. Teary greens straining to meet your gaze, pleading mercy like what you were doing to him was torture, even though Vio was the one who slammed his ass back to meet your hips each time, without fail. 

“Aren’t you a fucking mess?” The amusement in your voice was palpable, and you knew it got him off, what with the way he keened, forehead pressing to the sheets and hands fisting the fabric as though it could save his life. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard an apology from these pretty lips,” your point was driven home when he gagged, and your spit-slicked digits slipped out just for you to smear it to a shine on them, “best not start now, hm? It might make me wanna take pity on you and then-”

He cried your name, and you watched the muscles in his back ripple as he convulsed. Sweat glistening, mesmerising in the way rain droplets were when they ran races against glass windows, dripping into the divots of sacral dimples you were aching to dig your thumbs into.

“And then who’s gonna fuck you like this, huh?” Your cleaner hand reached out, wrapped around his throat tight enough to choke him, and pulled him up. It drove you deeper into him — had Vio's eyes rolling to the back of his skull, had him clawing at you with almost the same intensity as he moaned. “Fuck you this good,” your hand trailed to his abdomen, where skin stretched thin, “fill you up, make you scream. You know I’m the only one who can do it for you. Only I know who you are, what you deserve. Right, Vio?”

“O-Only you,” Vio rasped, “only you, Y/N. Please.”

“You keep saying that,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to his jugular absent-mindedly. His pulse was fluttering, light and so fast in a way you thought suited the image of delicacy he’d crafted for the world. The way his body molded to your shape said otherwise, unbreaking, despite your efforts to do just that. “What are you begging for? What have I not given you?”

“Everything.” Wisps of blue flurried in your vision, and they were all you could see for seconds after Vio tilted his head back on your shoulder. The ocean, in the colour of his eyes. Lapping waves that undulated and moved towards you. “This much isn’t enough.” Seasalt at his nape, on your tastebuds, becoming addictive. “Give it all to me.” Threatening to drown you. “Y/N.”

For a second you were gone, and then his voice, weighted only momentarily, had you snapping back into reality, into motion, into him. “Greedy,” you tittered, index up his Adam’s apple to tap on his chin and push it down, “can’t you see that I already am?”

“Fuck.” Vio's eyes widened, the slightest bit — you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t looking. Your palm smoothed over where his belly bulged, applied a little pressure and watched his pupils blow. It was funny to you that he hadn’t noticed before. “Fuck. Y/N, wait.” Between his legs, Vio's dick twitched, clearly not as spent as either of you had first assumed, not with how it was leaking now. “Wait!”

There are things you’d never know about him; what type of pleasure coursed through his veins on seeing the strain you put on him, if it was a physical fulfillment, if it was solely the feeling, or the thought, being claimed, stretched, ruined. You never wondered about it long — after all, it didn’t matter. In seconds, the ocean overflowed for you. He spilt for you.

Vio lost his mind for you.

[calicoups]

౨ৎ oranges — csc

synopsis seungcheol peels you oranges... pairing seungcheol x fem reader genre fluff word count 0.5k hani’s notes cus i know this man would do it🥹 if you like my work, please consider reblogging or commenting because it motivates me sm rather than just liking 🩷

“doll,” seungcheol nudges you softly, “here.”

you tear your eyes away from the tv screen to look at seungcheol’s face who gestures to his hand with his eyes, eyebrows raising slightly.

in his open hand sits a peeled orange. it’s peeled so perfectly that it actually hurts, there’s none of those pesky piths on the orange segments and no seeds which you had mentioned to seungcheol that you preferred oranges without seeds and ever since, he’s only brought home clementines or any other types of seedless oranges.

“i didn’t…?”

seungcheol smiles softly, “i know you didn’t, but i also know how you like snacking on oranges while we watch our show.”

you think you might burst with all the love you have for the man before you. he peeled it without you even having to ask.

laughing at his witty statement, you take the orange from his hand and whisper a quiet ‘thank you’ before taking his hand in yours and bringing it to your lips for a kiss. a stamp of gratitude.

that’s when you notice it. the free edge of his nails are a tinted yellow-orange colour, like the peel of the orange he had ripped off so carefully that it did not break off at any part.

“hey,” you start, “your nails are stained.”

seungcheol pulls his hand away to take a look and he laughs, “really? i didn’t even realise that.”

“don’t peel these next time, your nails are orange now.”

he just stares at you for a few moments, so lost in your worry-filled eyes.

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth, filled with amusement because you were so adorable to him. the way you were concerned about his nails staining, he could kiss you senseless right then and there.

“sweetheart, i’d peel hundreds of oranges even if it meant that my nails would get stained in this way every time.”

oh.

oh.

his comment has rendered you absolutely speechless. you fall still for what feels like ages, trying to process his sickeningly sweet words — you might have to see a dentist after this.

your mouth opens then closes again, unable to get a single word out. blood rushes to your cheeks and you can feel them become warmer and warmer the longer you stare into seungcheol’s alluring eyes.

you don’t think you can hold it back any longer, so you place the orange on the coffee table and throw yourself onto seungcheol, tightening your arms around his neck.

the vibrations from his throat as he laughs transfer onto your body and you press yourself into him more. saying that you were flustered from his comment would be an understatement. you were more than flustered and so in love with choi seungcheol.

“has my sweet girl gone all shy?” he teases and you hide yourself further in the junction between his shoulder and neck.

as you’re shaking your head ‘no’, he laughs again, one large hand going to stroke the side of your head. the tip of your ears are hot to his touch and now he knows for sure that you’re shy and a blushing mess.

seungcheol pulls away from the embrace and looks at you with ‘heart eyes’. when you go to hide your face again, he stops you, hands going to either side of your face and lips pressing against your cheek.

“oh, my silly girl,” he follows your avoiding eyes, “what am i ever going to do with you? hm?”

also guys look....that penguin is so him in the picture i put below, i'm sobbing...T__T

[queer-little-demigod]

Hi lea!!!! Can you write about an clarisse la true x apollo!reader

Clarisse got in trouble for something (what's new tho) and got a punishment of helping out with the little demigods art class for 2 weeks (or however long) the volunteer teacher is reader. At first Clarisse did NOT wanna be there she acted like a baby for the first few days but after she got more involved and started to understand she enjoyed it (she would never admit it), she started talking to the kids more (she totally has favorites, reader has to constantly tell her dont be so obvious about her favorites 😭) it got to a point where the kids would start talking to her outside of class. Also Clarisse definitely doesn't develop a crush on reader. AT ALL. SHE DEFINITELY HATES HOW PASSIONATE SHE IS ABOUT THE KIDS AND ART AND HOW GOOD SHE IS WITH KIDS SHE DOESN'T THINK ITS CUTE AT ALL. SHE DOESNT THINK OF THAT CLASS AS ONE BIG FAMILY. I mean what???? Who said that???

Anyways when it's time for her to go reader takes some of the kids to make a goodbye sign for clarisse; clarisse takes her 100% not favorite kid on a secret mission to make an 'I'm staying' sign. Then reader and Clarisse present them at the same time and it's all cutesy!! After class, reader asks clarisse on a date via showing her a pain she drew of them on a date and hopes she gets the message!

Thank you! :)

you got an artist inside you - clarisse la rue

summary where clarisse finds herself falling in love with a girl over paintbrushes and a punishment

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!apollo!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings none

The camp was usually sleepy, quiet, and mostly empty apart from a few stray campers training here and there. But with summer already beating down with a burning force, it was full of kids running around, training left right and center, and all-in-all just general chaos.

So with the burning heat came grumpy older campers, which meant fights.

And a fight at lunch is what led to Clarissa having to help the younger campers with art class, with the co-teacher being none other than you, Y/n L/n, counsellor of the Apollo cabin. Additionally and otherwise known as the girl Clarisse was smitten with.

"Clarisse La Rue if you don't stop whining like that right now, I am going to smack you," you grumbled in utter frustration for the fifth time that hour, when she complained to you about some kid not cutting the paper the way it was supposed to be cut.

For a child of the god of war, she was such a wuss sometimes.

"But they're not following-" she began to protest, but a smack upside the head with a roll of wrapping paper shut her up.

"They're seven year olds in a summer camp art class," you emphasised on those facts. "They're gonna do their own thing!"

This was how the first few days went. She complained, you disciplined both her and the kids. But once she got used to the whole routine of you both giving instructions and the final products having irritatingly distinct variations, she cooled down.

If this was going to be a punishment for the next two weeks, she might as well enjoy it.

The art room, as usual, was a mess. Glitter was everywhere, coloured pencils were strewn around, papers were on the floor, blackened and trampled on. The strong scent of glue made everyone a bit woozy, and there was enough shouting for supplies across the table to give even the calmest camper a sensory overload.

Clarisse sat in the danger zone where the most glitter was being thrown around and spilled, and her soft skin was already glimmering with purple and red glitter as she tried restoring order. However, instead of yelling as usual she was laughing along with the little kids.

One kid in particular, you noticed, she helped far more than the others. A Hephaestus kid named Dennis, who was the sweetest little thing with big, round glasses and bronze hearing aids that you had Charlie customise so they looked like metal elf ear tips.

You pulled Clarissa aside and scolded her with a smile, “Clar, you cannot pick favourites!”

Clarissa loved your smile with everything she had. So naturally, she was so captivated by it that she didn't hear you the first time. Nor did she register the scolding.

"Excuse me, but Dennis deserves special treatment--" She began, but you cut her off.

"No, he's just like the other kids, okay? Just make sure you don't pick favourites, please," you sighed and walked away, going back to showing the kids how to make paper butterflies.

But you're my favourite, she thought to herself. She wished she had the courage to say it out loud, admit her feelings for you, but she couldn't.

Later, as time went by, as days of standing in clouds of glitter and glue fumes began and ended, Clarisse found that she was apparently likeable. After classes, during training, during dinner, she'd have little kids pulling her sleeve to talk to her, she'd have kids randomly hugging her at odd times of the day, or giving her small artworks like a wonky bird or a odd-looking Cerebrus. It shocked the campers beyond belief.

But for you it just made your love for her grow.

One day during class, a Demeter kid named Flora started to cry because glitter went into her eye. You rushed over immediately and helped her up, holding her in your arms as you took her to the basin to clean her up.

"Shh, don't cry, baby, it's okay, I'm gonna wash it out, alright?" You said softly.

"Guys, focus on your work, Flo's fine," Clarisse said, clapping her hands to direct the staring kids back to work, her eyes fixed on you as you washed Flora's eyes with water gently, telling her that she should not to go so close to the page when blowing glitter off in the softest voice the child of war had ever heard.

You were so gentle, like the softest summer breeze which didn't make the leaves rustle, but cooled one's warming skin. You were so precious, with your soft smile and loving words. Your voice was sweet like honey, no matter who you talked to or how.

If your voice was bottled, she swore to the gods that she'd get drunk on it every night.

"You okay, champ?" She asked, gently ruffling Flora's soft brown hair as the girl sat down. "You're a strong girl, aren't you? Showed that stupid glitter it's place."

You giggled at the way she spoke, covering your mouth with your hand to hide it. It was ridiculously obvious that Clarisse thought the kids in the art class were like family, and it was genuinely so adorable.

Seeing her like this, curly hair pulled back in her red bandanna, arms splattered with paint here and there, with glitter shining off her smooth caramel skin with every movement she made into the light, lit up something inside of you. Seeing her without her usual scowl, pulling funny faces with the kids as she showed them how to draw a monster, made your heart beat twice as fast.

However, two weeks went by with heartbreaking speed, and before she knew it, she was in Chiron's office, listening to him gleefully say she was officially un-grounded.

But honestly? She didn't share his happiness.

Nor did you.

"What?! Already!?" You exclaimed that evening as you sat in your cabin at your desk, which had plans put out for what to make for the next art class.

"Yeah," she grumbled, lounging on your bed. "I hate it."

"That's rough, but it's okay, you can always hop in to volunteer,"

"What do we tell the little ones?"

"The truth?"

"You're fucking crazy if you think they'll go with it,"

"I'm out of options, Clar," you leaned back in your chair and put your hands over your eyes. "I love that class, and I love teaching art."

"I know, and as much as I hate to admit it," she sat up. "So do I."

The very next day, Clarisse rushed to Chiron and begged him to let her stay for that class. Even going to lengths that she told him how she felt for you.

"Fine," he relented. "You can stay with the class for as long as you'd like,"

She'd never run to the forges to find a kid so fast.

"Beckendorf!" She exclaimed, looking at the cabin counselor. "Hey, where's Dennis?"

The boy looked around, and his eyes landed on Dennis, who was inquisitively watching one of his half-sisters mold a few practice swords, helping occasionally with putting the swords in water.

"Dennis!" Beckendorf exclaimed, "Clarisse wants to talk to you!"

Dennis immediately ran over, grinning broadly, showing his gap-toothed smile. "Hi, Clarisse!" He said, excitedly.

"Hey there, big boy!" She smiled back, giving him a high five. "So listen, I'm going to need your insane artistic skills and your help..."

While you did help the other kids make a 'goodbye' sign for Clarisse, on the side you decided to confront your feelings.

You knew you liked her from the beginning, from when you first saw her infectious smile, from when you heard her deep laugh reverberating through the empty Apollo cabin on days where you both would plan lessons.

She held the key to your heart, she knew her way past your walls. She clearly also knew how to remain in your thoughts, subconscious and conscious, to the point where you found yourself in the art studio, canvas on an easel before you.

Thoughts of her, of feeling her coarse, battle-worn hands on your skin, of gazing into those deep brown eyes which were like the colour of the rain-kissed earth, and when she fought were like the evening sun, golden enough to put the wings of Icarus to shame, made your paintbrush move. It made your colours flow like the blood in your veins, made each stroke perfect enough to create the scene you most desired on the canvas in front of you.

You stepped back once you felt the need to express yourself flow away, gazing at the canvas. A scene it held, and what a scene indeed. The sky was cornflower blue, a cloudless day, with the sun’s rays shining down on a big oak tree. The leaves were paler as the golden light kissed the surface, casting sharp shadows on the pillowy grass.

But then there was vivid orange and red, a flash of bronze. In the foreground there sat both you and Clarisse, the latter having more detail than any part of the drawing.

Then the dreaded day came where you all had to say goodbye to her.

The little ones were devastated, not letting Clarisse go anywhere without following her around like baby ducklings, making her explain to them that she's not going away from camp, she's just not going to teach them anymore.

At the end of the final class, just as everyone unveiled the 'we'll miss you' poster, she and Dennis revealed their 'I'm Staying' poster, causing a loud, thunderous cheer to erupt from all of you.

Later, you pulled her aside to give her your canvas painting.

Nerves wracked your body, your palms began to sweat.

When was the last time you had felt this nervous? It was probably your cello recital the day you had come to camp...

"Holy shit, Y/n this looks absolutely amazing!" Clarisse exclaimed, taking the painting in her hands.

She didn't miss the detail you had given her, drawing her angelically, despite her thinking she was the opposite. It was so well done that the brush strokes weren't even visible.

Please get the message, you blockheaded, oblivious fool...you thought.

Deciding to act against your nerves, you asked her in a shaky voice, "That's a painting of us on a date...would you like to go on one with me sometime?"

Clarisse's heart stopped. Had you just asked her out on a date?

She was at a loss for words, they didn't touch her tongue, nor did they pass her lips. She stood there, speechless, gaping at you for a moment too long.

"I mean, I get it, you're probably not even a les--" you began, but a pair of gentle lips on yours silenced your words.

Sparks flew, butterflies went haywire, your brain short-circuited. You didn't know what to doo, just stood there frozen with shock. Kissing the girl you had liked for the last few months now.

Clarisse, however, was ecstatic. Her mind was a burst of colour, her body was ablaze. She felt like she had wings, and her heart was taking her up, up, up.

Once she pulled away, she winked at your blushing face and dopey grin.

"It's a date, L/n."

hi, it's me! lea! i hope you enjoyed this long overdue oneshot <3 requests are open via dms or asks!

[reverie-starlight]

Osamu + doing their makeup for them on the first prompt list? 🥹🥹🙏🙏

SO CUTE!!! I'm not sure which way you wanted this, but this was the first thing that came to mind. hope you enjoy!!

gn!reader that owns/uses makeup, no physical descriptions, fluff fluff fluff, I need to write for osamu more. I think legally for every three atsumu fics I post on this blog, I need to do one for his brother. pls don't hold me to that. very dialogue heavy!!

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

"how did I let ya talk me into this?" osamu sighs from underneath you. of course he knows how- your puppy dog eyes and sweet, sweet voice buttering him up.

you giggle and shift a bit so you're straddling him more comfortably. "because you loveeee meeee," you sing. "and you're extremely weak against my charm," you swipe some bright green eye shadow over his left eyelid.

the man sighs again, but the corner of his mouth is clearly twitching upwards at the reminder. "yeah, yeah, whatever," he starts bouncing his leg to pass the time and you click your tongue.

"'samu, stop moving, I'm gonna mess your face up."

he lets out a sudden laugh. "yeah, I'm sure moving my leg a little bit is the thing that's gonna mess my face up. definitely not the gremlin sitting on my lap with some-" he opens his right eye to try to get a glimpse of the brush but you're quick to pull it out of his view. "mystery colour. I don't like the look on your face, sweetheart, what are ya doin' to me?"

your laugh is far too ominous for his liking. "don't you worry, baby, I'm gonna make you so pretty."

"wasn't worried," he shoots back automatically, but then he grumbles a bit while rubbing your thighs, "thought you already considered me pretty."

"aww, so pouty," you coo at him. "keep it up and I'm gonna put some gloss on you, too."

you have to kiss away his scowl and reassure him that nothing sticky or wet will be applied to his lips before lunch.

he stays still until you announce that you're finished. he's a little too quick about scooping you up in his arms and rising from his chair.

you had been giggling throughout the entire process and he remembers the barely concealed mischief behind your eyes when you first begged to do his makeup. there was absolutely zero chance that you had actually given him a cohesive look, but you've been so down lately, that seeing you genuinely laugh and smile made him just a bit more willing than usual to let you have your way.

"samu!" you shriek when he throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

he adjusts his grip on the back of your thighs to keep you from squirming too much. "this had better be the best look of the damn century, sweetheart, or you're going to pay for it."

"what? nooo, baby I swear I was just messing around-" you're squirming relentlessly now, doing everything in your power to get out of his grip and run to safety. your boyfriend is relentless when it comes to payback. granted, you don't mind one bit, but it doesn't make the build-up any less terrifying.

he flicks the light switch on and it's dead-silent in the bathroom as he takes in his new look. his grip loosens just a bit and you take the opportunity to finally wiggle out of his arms and stand beside him.

osamu is just standing there, jaw slacked and staring at his reflection. you bite your lip to stop more laughter from bubbling out.

on his left eye is the bright green eyeshadow you had hidden from his view. on his right is a glittery neon pink. you've applied eyeliner on him as well, however not as sharp as what he sees you do for yourself. not sharp at all, actually, because instead of his eyeliner being winged, you've turned it into rounded flower petals. his blush is horrendously over applied to the apples of his cheeks, making him look like a doll.

and for the final blow, you've also "tattooed" some words onto his face in red lip liner.

atsumu is the better twin.

how you managed to fit it all is a mystery to him- he's almost impressed- but what's even more dumfounding is how he hadn't realized you were writing on him.

he blames your adorable smile for distracting him.

once he's done processing, he turns to look at you slowly and you feel a strange mix of fear and excitement pooling in your stomach. you're both extremely still and waiting for the other to make a move.

you decide not to tell him that you realized halfway into the flower petal eyeliner that you forgot to restock your makeup remover.

after an agonizing ten seconds, your lover only has to narrow his eyes to get you shrieking and running for cover.

lunch will have to wait a bit longer, but he decides he's okay with that as he chases you down the hall and pretends he can't catch up. he'll get his fill soon enough, anyway.

"yeah, you'd better run, darlin'."

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

thank you so much for sending this in, I hope you enjoyed!!

@emmyrosee come get your husband

[specialagentlokitty]

Uta x reader - a bit oblivious

i saw that ur requests were open… could i please request a tokyo ghoul uta x reader in which uta is hardcore pining for the reader who is totally oblivious?? like we all know uta’s emotionally constipated so just IMAGINE him tryna rizz reader up only for them to not even notice ty!! have a wonderful rest of ur day!! Hope that make sense x - Anon💜

Sitting in the cafe, you happily sipped at your drink as you scrolled through your laptop, looking through what you had been working on.

The chair in front of you moved, and you smiled a little bit.

“Hey Uta.”

“Hello.”

He sat down, setting a cup in front of you and a plate with a sandwich on.

“Oh, thanks. What time is it?”

He didn’t reply, instead he leant his back against the wall, and you set your laptop aside so you could eat your food.

“I want to make you a mask.”

“I don’t need one.”

“Perhaps not, but I still want to make you one.”

You smiled at him.

“Still don’t need one Uta.”

He turned to you, resting his chin on his hand, eyes just peering at you under his sunglasses.

“You also don’t like it here.”

“I go out sometimes, when there is something interesting nearby.”

“Oh is it the one eyed boy? I’m doing a story on him, they’re calling him eyepatch.”

Uta lowered his glasses a little at you, staring for a few seconds before he pushed them back up, going back to resting his chin on his hand.

“Intriguing, but not nearly enough. Though he is fun to mess with, very easily scared. Do you get scared easy (Y/N)?”

“I wouldn’t be sat in here if I did.”

He leant forward a little, leaning over the table.

“Do I scare you…?” He whispered.

You glanced around before turning back to him.

“You’re not scary at all.”

He huffed a little, dropping back into his chair.

“Not even a little?” He hummed.

“Nope.”

He watched you in silence for a few minutes.

You went back in your laptop, saving the work you had done before closing it, putting it back into your bag before turning back to him.

“Let’s go.”

He picked up your bag and you laughed a little, getting up so you could follow him.

You made sure to say goodbye to everybody before leaving the cafe, and Uta began to lead the way back to his studio.

“Oh! Oh! Can we go to the shopping centre?!”

Uta furrowed his brows at you as he stopped walking.

“There’s this sweater I really want, and it’s for a limited time only. Please Uta?!”

He gestured for you to carry on walking and you grinned at him as you did.

Uta didn’t speak much while you were out, he just followed along behind you, letting you drag him to where you wanted to go before you finally made it to his shop.

He set your bag by his workstation, and he jumped on it, leaning back on his hands as you watched you inspect the masks.

You picked one up, placing it over your face and turned to look at him.

“That isn’t your style.”

“But it’s cute.”

He laid down, reaching over his head he picked one up and held it out to you.

Padding over you picked it up and looked at the carefully placed detail before looking down at him.

“This suits you, it has softer features. It matches your face and personality better.”

“You think?”

He sat up, face inches from yours.

“I know.”

You grinned, sitting next to him as you held it in your hands, still carefully looking at the mask he had given you.

Uta watched you, slight admiration in his eyes.

He had been pining over you for months, and yet everything he did seemed to go right over your head and he didn’t know how else to get your attention.

You were just oblivious to his attempts.

In a way he found it amusing, it was almost like a game to him at this point.

He was in no hurry to let you find out, he was going to let the game carry on because it was fun.

He snapped back into reality when he felt you take his arm, and you began to colour his tattoos in with some markers.

“You need more colour.”

“There’s no fun in that.”

You shrugged, grinning at him.

He said nothing and allowed you to carry on while he simply just sprawled across your lap, his red eyes just watching you.

It wasn’t unusual behaviour by far for him, so you didn’t think twice about it.

And he just liked being near you, this way he knew you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, and he could just watch

[ireadwithmyears]

How each member of the bad batch would be with a visually impaired significant other (short imagine’s/headcannons

Part 1

Word count: 5.4K

Pairings: the bad batch ex female reader (individual)

Tags/warnings: some are suggestive, mostly domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries

note: look, it’s the epitome of self indulgence. I wrote this solely because I’m blind, and have never seen these ideas discussed when it comes to our beloved boys. However, I recognize that the majority of people reading this will not have shared this experience, so this is why I am adding a disclaimer/reminder to tell you that blindness is a spectrum, and the majority of us have at least a degree of useable vision left, so that is why I continue to use visual language/descriptors like look or watching. That being said, I hope you enjoy these, I had so much fun writing them, and if you have an idea for a specific scenario so I can do more of these, or another particular clone who isn’t a member of the batch, please let me know, and I would be happy to write more

Hunter🩷 

Hunter is the best at planning dates when it comes to keeping your accessibility and comfort in mind. 

If he wants to take you out somewhere, he’ll always go and scope it out beforehand, analyzing things that might not make it an enjoyable experience for you. I.e. if the lighting is too low and will obscure any of your remaining vision. If the music is too loud and will make it hard for you to effectively communicate with him. He knows that both of these things, especially when they’re working in tandem, can make you feel on edge and anxious, and that’s the last thing he wants you to feel when he’s taking you out on a date.

He will always ask the establishment about things like accessible or braille menus, or, if you happen to have a guide dog, seating that will have the space to accommodate and be comfortable for all of you.

If the menu isn’t accessible for you, he will always give you a heads up beforehand, using his datapad to pull up the menu on the holonet so that he can help you familiarize yourself with it, and you can decide what you want before you get there, taking a lot of the stress and pressure off of you because you don’t have to rush.

He wants you to feel cherished, loved, and safe when you’re out and about with him. So if you are going somewhere that’s particularly busy or crowded, he will also adapt himself. 

He’ll keep you close, whether it’s with your arm tucked securely in the crook of his elbow to guide you around, or his hand gently placed on the small of your back, letting it rest there so that you know he’s right there with you.

He never plans on getting separated from you, but if, by some unforeseen circumstance, it happens by accident, he has a plan for that too. 

If you’ve got remaining vision that is useable, he will intentionally wear bright, contrasting colours to make him easier to spot, even when he’s a distance away. 

If you don’t have any remaining vision, he’ll wear something like keys that jingle, or an article of jewellery that makes a distinct sound as he walks so that you can tell when he’s approaching. 

Regardless, every time you go on a night out, he will take the time to describe his appearance to you in detail, his general physical description, what he’s wearing, so that if, for some reason, you do get separated, you know how best to describe him to someone, so that they can locate him for you and help you make your way back to him

His enhanced senses have become innately attuned to your normal patterns and rhythms, and if he notices any rapid fluctuation or change be it with your breathing or heart rate, indicating that the environment you’re in is causing you stress, he’s whisking you away, taking you back home, despite any of your protests. He knows you’re just fighting him because you feel guilty about potentially messing up the night, which you absolutely are not.

He will not let you feel that way for long, because when you’re home, he is determined to make you feel like the beautiful, treasured, and wanted human being that you are.

He orders your favourite takeout food. He’ll lie you down on your bed, surrounding you with soft blankets and pillows, gently and tenderly beginning to caress and massage the tension from your tensed up shoulders and back, partly because he feels like he might have inadvertently been the cause of it being there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you try to apologize. “I know you really wanted to...”

“Shh,” he quiets your apology, a hand coming up to softly brush a finger against your lips, resting his forehead against yours gently. “Meshla,” he breathes, unable to help the small smirk of amusement that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he observes, taking note of your breath audibly catching in the back of your throat as his finger, slow and slightly teasing, begins to lightly trace the edge of your bottom lip.

He presses his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss as he affirms, “this is all I want,” he breathes in a whisper close to your ear that immediately has your whole body erupting in goosebumps.

“You,” he continues, his voice a low, husky rumble against your neck as his lips press, warm and deliberate, directly where your pulse flutters beneath them, pulling a soft, yet audible gasp out of you, that makes his lips curve up into a smile that you can feel against the skin of your neck.  “Are all I want.” 

He spends the rest of the night taking his time to prove that to you, in every way that he knows how.

*

Tech🩷

He takes note of every single bruise you get on your legs from bumping into shit all the time. 

You’re blind, it’s just an occupational hazard. You might not even notice that you have one, but he certainly does, and he’ll take care to notify you of every time you accumulate a new mark in your collection.

“There is a bruise directly above your left knee,” he observes, gentle fingers tracing over the mark with a soft frown marring his features. 

He naturally has picked up on using the language that is most helpful to describe the location of something visual to you. You didn’t even have to ask the first time you were on hands and knees on the floor, feeling around for one of your shoes. He didn’t point, and say “it’s over there,” which is just instinctive habit for most people. Instead, he had a used more specific directives like “behind you, on a slight diagonal to your right.”

“How did this happen,” he asks softly now, placing your hand directly on top of the blossoming mark on your leg.

You give him a half shrug and a rueful smile. “I don’t know,” you admit, honestly puzzled. “It happens all the time.”

From then on, he observes you closely, quickly coming to the realization that there are things that are just harder for you to look out for, and, just as quickly, doing his best to rectify each one. He’s easily able to identify a pattern of cause and effect that lead to your many bruises, bumps, and small every day accidents, and rather than being over bearing and cautious with you, he just figures out a way to remove the root of each problem entirely.

Each step on the Marauder’s gangway is suddenly marked with a long strip of brightly coloured tape at each edge, so that you can more confidently move down the steps without having to fumble to find the edge with your foot.

Low sitting caf tables in the middle of the living room, with sharp, jagged corners jutting out are suddenly pushed up against the wall, so that you don’t have to be careful while stepping around them, trying not to hit your leg off of one of them.

He makes sure that any overhead cupboards in the kitchen that are hard for you to notice until your head is colliding with their open doors, are kept securely shut, recalling a particular incident when, whilst putting away dishes, your head had caught on one of the cupboard doors, large bump blossoming on your forehead, just barely missing your eye. He had frowned, gently holding an ice pack to the swelling bump, deciding that from now then on, he would put any of the dishes away that needed to go on the top shelves. He wouldn’t budge on this, even when you tried to argue.

“Cyar,” he had said, voice stern, even as he gently took you by both of your shoulders. “I understand your need to be able to do things independently, and I respect it greatly. But, as much as you can make a light about getting bruises on your legs from these little incidents. Your head is much too important to apply that same lightness to, and I will not compromise on that so please, let me do this for you.” he had leaned down, barely brushing his lips over the bump on your head in a caring, affectionate gesture, and that had made your resolve completely crumble.

He’s also hyper aware of your systems and ways of organizing things, and it has become a habit for him to make sure that it is maintained. 

Shampoo and conditioner bottles that look almost identical with exception to the labels that isn’t much help to you are always set in a specific order for you to find in the shower. You always leave things like your wallet and your cane in the same place, and if anyone messes with these orders, it can really throw you off.

If anyone does touch or move any of your things, regardless of how insignificant, without telling you first, Tech will find out, and, especially if it’s one of his brothers, will thoroughly scold them for it, ensuring that they understand why somethings so small could be really frustrating and disorienting for you, and makes sure that they never do it again.

If you read braille, this man learns it for fun one day on a whim, and he doesn’t even tell you about it.

He’ll put away your groceries for you one day, and then you’ll be searching for something like a dinner ingredient, and find that he’s attached a braille label to the box, with completely correct use of the six dots that form the language.

When you confront him with it, he only shrugs, adjusting his goggles with a slightly confused expression.

“You sound surprised,” he observes with one raised eyebrow. “In a practical sense, this was a logical solution,” he continues, clearly unfazed by your display of shock.

“That’s not fair,” you pout, leaning against the counter and folding your arms. “If you’re going to learn braille, then you at least need to teach me some Mandoa,” you challenge.

“I was not aware that you were interested in the subject. But that is an agreeable request. What would you like to know?” He asks, looking at you questioningly.

“Like,” you bite your lip, considering, tilting your head in curiosity. “What’s that word that you always call me?” You ask. “It starts with an S? I think? Or maybe a C...c cyar?” You say, suddenly uncertain and cringing at your own pronunciation.

He straightens, suddenly grateful that you’re unable to see the blush that’s crept into his cheeks as he answers evenly. 

“Ah, yes, the word that you were saying is correct. Cyar... it means, love... or beloved,” he answers, voice going soft as he catches your hand in his, almost absently pressing his lips to the back of your knuckles briefly as you stare at him, surprised.

“You ... you love me?” You ask, hopeful and voice clearly bewildered. The smile that pulls at the corners of your lips lights up the whole room. 

Both eyebrows arch as he looks down at you, because now he’s the one who’s confused. When he responds, his voice is far less confident and sure than it usually is. It holds almost a shy, completely uncharacteristic timidness, which conveys the genuine honesty in his words when he speaks.

“Well ...cyar. of course I do. I thought it was obvious.”

*

Echo🩷 

Echo, unlike most people, understands all the aches and pains, mental and physical, that come with being disabled.

He’s sat with you on the bathroom floor, your head resting against the cool linoleum of one of the tiles on the wall after a concert. You had come home to find your head throbbing from the after affects of being surrounded by a combination of extremely loud music, a screaming crowd, and strobe lights that made you wish that you didn’t have any remaining vision at all. 

Your eyes were shut tightly, and  your heart fluttered with surprise and gratitude when, with his one functioning hand, Echo, movements slow and meticulous, carefully began to undo your hair from the tight updo it had been forced into all night. There he sat, fingers so, so gentle as they ran through your hair, undoing the tangles and soothing away some of the tight ache that had gathered at the back of your head. 

He’s careful to stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt the little bit of peace that you had found. The only thing that fell from his lips were gentle breaths and soft murmurs of “oh, sweetness, s’okay,” lips pressing the lightest kisses to your flushed cheek, the side of your aching forehead, until the painkillers had finally, finally kicked in.

If you’re a cane user, he always has his eyes peeled for the little bumps and cracks along the sidewalk.

He’s seen what happens when the tip gets caught in one of them, when the handle inevitably jabs against your stomach or ribs and the immediate discomfort on your face that follows.

He also sees the bruises that are left there afterwards, and as much as he loves gently pressing his lips to each of them, reassuring you that he’ll kiss them better, he’d rather them just not be there in the first place.

So, he always watches out for them, giving you an ample warning on ones that your cane could get caught in so that you can move it out of the way. 

He takes you to a holofilm, and you both don’t realize that it’s not available with audio description until you’re in your seats and the headset doesn’t work. He immediately turns to you, giving you a reassuring smile and offering his hand, saying “We can leave, if you want. If you’re not going to get anything out of this, we can go, and we’ll find something else to do.”

You decide to stick it out, rationalizing that you’ll still be able to get something out of the film, if not the whole story, and besides, he can catch you up on parts you didn’t understand after it’s over. 

In the end, it’s still worth it for you.  

You finish half of a bag of popcorn before commercials are even over. You’re intrigued by the movie for almost half of it, and then finally, you spend the rest of it passed out with your head resting on Echo’s shoulder, only for him to wake you, slightly chagrined, when the credits are rolling.

When you’re out of the theater, you walk together hand in hand down the street. He apologizes profusely, saying that he should have done more research. You try to laugh it off to reassure him that it was fine, because you just had one of the best naps of your life in that theater. When it’s clear that that doesn’t help, you’re turning to him, sighing with a small frown.

“Echo,” you say with a small shake of your head. “I’m the one who should be sorry, not you, love.” At his look of bewilderment, you continue. “You do so much for me already, and I’m just so, so grateful for that. It’s not always something I feel like I can repay you for.” You look away, ashamed. 

Because it’s true. He has his own set of issues and lingering problems from the injuries he sustained at the citadel. You can encourage him to do things like his physiotherapy exercises that ensures that his cybernetics are working in tandem with his body. But you can’t actually help him with them, whether it be with making modifications or repairs. It sometimes makes you feel a bit useless, because he helps you so much and you feel like you can only help him so little, and you feel like you’re just adding to his already overflowing plate sometimes.

“I know there could be easier people for you to be with,” you confess, voice quiet.

Echo stops dead at the street corner, catching your wrist to stop you from moving forward, and turning to fully face you with his brow creased in a frown.  

“Oh, Cyar’ika,” he says, voice soft, reaching out a hand to tilt your head up so that you’re looking at him. “Now who put that idea in your head, ner kar’ta?” he whispers, gazing down at you with pursed lips.

Unexpected tears spring to your eyes at his gentle tone. The truth is that you can’t place this feeling on a singular person, though people have contributed to it. Family members have made comments in passing, strangers who look at the two of you and immediately begin to judge from there own preconceived notions and outside opinions. It’s society at large, who has made you feel like your blindness is a burden to the ones you love. 

You don’t know how to say that, though. So you remain silent as Echo leans down, dropping a lingering kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “I don’t need you to make my life easier, cyar. You make my life meaningful, and that, to me, is more important. 

He rests his forehead against yours, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. “Your needs don’t make you a burden, cyar’ika. I want you to remember that. I want to make sure that they are always being met. It’s the least I can do, you understand?”

All you can do is nod, your heart in your throat. 

The next time you go see a holofilm with him, and the audio description isn’t available, Echo is prepared this time.

He still offers to leave, but when you refuse, he has a plan. In his own time, and on the occasions when you both have been watching something at home, he always makes sure the described video settings are on, for your benefit, and when he’s alone, for his.

He’s observed closely, listening and carefully paying attention to how the narrator’s go about describing things. So, when the movie starts, he leans over to you, keeping his voice low and quiet, beginning to describe to you what’s happening onscreen, careful to never interrupt any dialogue.

You stare at him, more than a little surprised. “Echo, are you going to do this for the whole film?” You ask, caught off guard and delighted all at once.

He gives you a quick nod. “Yes,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Now, be quiet and let me do it.”

True to his word, he does, staying close to you and keeping his voice quiet, so as not to disturb anyone around you. If someone still tries to shush him or gives him a dirty look for talking in the theater, he glares at them, in only the way that Echo can, until they stop.

This time, you stay awake during the whole film, watching intently, and listening to echos every word as he is meticulous in describing the visual things that you’re missing. In spite of all of the things that are different in comparison to your last date, one thing still remains the same.

You still finish the movie with your head resting on his broad shoulder, and he still looks at you like you’re the centre of his world.

*

Wrecker🩷 

The first time you make a blind joke about yourself in front of him, he’s terrified. 

Instinctively, he starts laughing, but then, registering your words, he immediately cuts himself off, not wanting to offend you, and is concerned that you’re being mean to yourself, which he will not allow. 

When you only snort at his reaction, playfully nudging him and explaining how it’s fine, because you have to make fun of the things that you are unable to change, and how it’s actually a mark of self love if you have the ability to laugh at yourself, slowly, he begins to understand. 

Soon enough, he not only readily laughs at your self deprecating humour and blind jokes, but at one point, he ends up slipping out one of his own before he can stop himself.

Again, he’s immediately apologetic and regretting his words, but when you throw back your head and laugh heartily, he feels a little less insecure and soon enough, you both have the ability to crack blind jokes with each other without missing a beat, to everyone else’s chagrin and fond amusement. 

He decides that having the ability to make you laugh, getting to watch your eyes sparkle with amusement and hearing the sounds of your joy is music to his ears, and is one of his favourite things. 

Wrecker is your number one protector. Not in a toxic, over protective way.

Even though he’s only got one functioning  eye, chances are he’s still got more vision than you, so he’s taking it upon himself to be the working set in this relationship, meaning he’s always watching out for you.

If you’ve got a guide dog, the first time he encounters it, he might have gone to pet it, but, before he did, he sees the do not interact sign, and stops short, quickly pulling back and apologizing. 

He asks questions, just to make sure he understands why it’s important, and after you explain it, he fully respects the boundaries and never forgets them, to which you are immensely thankful.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so grateful for him just doing the decent thing, until you tell him that a lot of people understand that you’re not supposed to pet the dog, but will either do it anyways, thinking that if you can’t see them doing it and they do it silently, you won’t notice, or they’ll talk in a distracting way to the animal, which is sometimes worse, and equally as distracting for the dog to work through.

This angers him, that they would take advantage of your blindness in such a disrespectful manner, and because you’ve explicitly told him that distracting your dog could potentially put you in danger, under the right circumstances.

From then on, he’s always watching.

If someone is petting your dog while it’s working, or trying to distract it, he’s right there, towering over them and glaring with his arms crossed, not so subtly pointing at the do not pet sign until they back away, stuttering and flustered.

If a child runs up to pet it, he’ll much more gently intercept them, crouching down on the ground to quietly explain to them the rules. In your experience, children are often much more respectful than adults, and watching him interact so kindly with them melts your heart every time.

Wrecker is tall. Standing at 6 feet six, it makes him not the most ideal guiding companion.

If he’s guiding you himself, sometimes, unintentionally, his elbow might knock against your head, for which he is immediately aware of, and instantly apologetic. 

He will always stop, large hands gently cradling the sides of your face as he looks you over, worried that even the slightest bump from him could leave a bruise. Regardless of what he finds, though, he’ll always lean down, dropping a kiss to your forehead with a soft, “m sorry, meshla.”

His solution to this problem, however, is a tad bit unconventional. 

When confronted with a situation where it’s just more efficient for him to guide you, for example, a street blocked off by construction, taped off areas and pylons everywhere, instead of offering you something like his hand or his wrist to hold, he simply reaches down, scoops you up into his arms and carries you over his shoulder until you’ve both cleared the obstacles together, you letting out a surprised squeak and giggling all the while.

Wrecker finds you beautiful, every day, all the time, and he is constant with his reminders of that.

As a blind person, it can be more difficult to coordinate a whole outfit, look, hair, and make up. He is so appreciative, and loves if you do that. But, if you’re one of those blind people who never learned how to do make up, who isn’t as confident in their sense of personal style, and you feel a little bit self-conscious about how much, or how little, in your opinion, effort you put into your look when you’re going out on a date with him, he will quickly assuage your fears the minute he catches wind of them.

He’s very good at detecting those days where you’re not feeling good about your appearance, just intuitively sensing when you’re having a bit of an off day, and when you could use a reminder of how beautiful and precious you are to him. He knows he can’t magically change your mind.

But he can  tell you about all the things he finds attractive about you, every day, if you need that reminder.

He’ll tell you of each one, each part of you that he finds beautiful beyond belief, while taking the time to softly caress and kiss each one, with whispered affirmations of “Such a pretty little thing,” and “You’re perfect, cyar, absolutely perfect.”

And if that’s not enough, he’ll keep going, keep moving downwards until he can look up at your beautiful face, watching from in between your parted thighs as your lips form equally beautiful noises for him.

*

Crosshair🩷 

It isn’t that Crosshair doesn’t want to help you. It’s just that, honestly, he’s a little bit hesitant to, in the beginning, fearing that he might overstep, because he places such a high value on choice, and respects your independence and autonomy to much to question you and your abilities.

He trusts that, if you need his help, you’ll come to him and ask. He also trusts that you’ve been living with blindness for a long time, maybe even since birth, and you’re aware enough to know your boundaries and limits, trusting that you’ll advocate when you need him to help with one of those limits.

Just because he doesn’t help you as much in the physical sense, does not mean he isn’t your number one advocate, because he absolutely is. 

For example, if you’re a guide dog user, and you both are going out together using a ride sharing app. If the driver refuses to let you in they’re speeder because of your service dog, he will wait patiently for you to explain, analyzing every micro expression of the driver and knowing when they’re still not listening to you, and he will step in without hesitation.

Wearing his most menacing glare, and in a voice that is deadly calm, he will absolutely read them the riot act. He knows every law regarding your guide dog, and knows just how properly to phrase them in a way that will make the driver scared, usually when he mentions the 5000 credits fine they could be sued for not denying you access 

He’s also keeping his eyes out to make sure that no one distracts your dog, and isn’t afraid to directly confront anyone who tries, saying something snarky like, “You know, maybe you’re the one who needs a guide dog, if you can’t read the don’t pet me sign that’s right in front of your face,” paired with a signature eye roll.

They always back away stuttering, and it always makes you laugh, even as you gently rebuke him, saying “Cross, that was a bit rude.”

He scowls, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him as he responds.

“And you, sweet girl, are too nice,” he purrs lowly against your ear. But, with the way that he begins to nuzzle at your neck, you don’t really think it bothers him that much.

If you’re one of those blind people who feels like asking for help is just burdening other people with your problems, and would rather risk facing the consequences by trying to do something yourself, rather than ask for help, he will find out, and he will not be pleased in the slightest. 

Your stubbornness is something that he loves about you. But if it has a tendency to go too far, especially if you’re putting yourself in harms way, that adoration will quickly turn to frustration.

For example, one time, you both were staying at a place that had a glass topped stove. 

These things are so inaccessible for blind people, it’s not even funny. But rather than admit defeat and let him cook dinner, you decided that you could figure it out, and gave it your best shot. 

Your best shot ended with you trying to line up the pot with the burner, and very quickly, receiving a searing burn on your hand from touching the heat. 

You had not anticipated it getting that hot that fast , and as you quickly pull your hand away, tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you let out a pained hiss.

““what are you doing?”

He had materialized behind you from seemingly out of nowhere, voice a silky, yet tensed coil as he reaches around you carefully, quickly flicking off the burner before long, dextrous fingers wrap  around your wrist, still gentle, even as he insistently pulls your hand away from where you’ve been clutching it to your chest, eyes keenly examining the burn with a soft frown on his face.

Wordlessly, he guides you over to the kitchen sink, hand on the small of your back, turning the water on cold and carefully placing your injured hand beneath the stream. 

Only then does he come to stand in front of you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, his expression hard as he looks down at you. 

“What were you thinking, cyar?” He grits out, voice almost a growl as he tries to understand. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I could have helped and prevented this,” he gestures to your hand. “From happening.”

You blame the trembling in your voice on the lingering throbbing ache in your hand.

“I’m s sorry. I I thought that I could figure it out. You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you B because I’m scared that I burden you with all the help I need sometimes and.”

“Stop,” he cuts you off in one quick, decisive syllable, and you instantly fall silent.

He tilts your chin up with one hand, guiding your eyes to look at him. His lips form a thin line when he sees the glimmer of unshed tears there. When he next speaks, his voice is still firm, but there is an underlying gentleness and softening in his tone. It has lost its hard edge, and it’s protective bite.

“You are not a burden, to anyone, but especially to me.”

“But,” you try to interject, but he easily silences you, taking your face in both of his hands and cradling it gently.

“Shh, cyar, listen to me,” he says, his voice a quiet command.

“If you are a burden, then you are my burden. In the same way that I am yours.” He takes your uninjured hand in his, relaxing his fingers against yours,  allowing you to feel it’s tremors.

Oh.

It’s been so long since his hand has shaken like this. He’s worked so hard to try and work through this particular trauma, and though it hasn’t completely gone away, it only begins to tremble during moments of high stress. You flush with shame, realizing that this moment of high stress is completely on you.

“I know what you’re doing, and stop it,” he says, voice stern, squeezing your hand in a silent warning. “Look at me, cyar’ika,” he continues, voice softening.

When you do, he continues. “If we are each other’s burdens, then we take care of each other, together. Do you understand me?”

You nod, actually stunned into complete silence at his proclamation.

“Good,” he says, voice softening further. He leans forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, fingers gently caressing the side of your neck as he pulls back.

He gives you a playful nudge as he smirks.

“Don’t ever try something like that again, cyar,” he quips with a scowl. “Your eyes already don’t work, and if you lose one of your hands, you’re completely fucked.”

All the levity of the moment vanishes, and it ends with your face pulling into a smile, a soft laugh falling from your parted lips as he watches you, eyes filled with adoration.

[jo-speaks]

fair

in which…

quinn and fem! reader go to the fair!

sixth date in the alphabet dates series

warnings: slightly suggestive (nothing actually happens)

note: i had this one scheduled to upload right before i went to surgery lmao it’s been ready for a while (also i think i like the photo collages better than the gifs so i’ll prob change them all while recovering

“We probably shouldn’t get food first if you plan on riding any rides.” You smiled as a worker wrapped a colourful vinyl strip around each of your wrists.

Quinn gave you a playful smirk as he took a hold of your hand and pulled you towards his side. “Since when are you the fair expert?”

You returned the look as you rolled your eyes, “That’s actually common sense, I’m afraid.”

“Oh yeah?” He replied, pinching your hip gently, smiling at the sound you made as that same smile appeared on your face again.

The two of you walked around the fairgrounds for a while before your boyfriend’s eyes were quickly drawn to the colourful, bright lights emanating from above. It was spinning rapidly in a circle, the people on board strapped in as their bodies were pressed against the metal as they screamed out of excitement. Or fear.

Quinn turned towards you, your eyes distracted on one of the calmer rides on the opposite side. He nudged you, eyeing the ride that had him bouncing on his heels from excitement.

You caught the hint, looking towards what, to you, looked like a bright wheel of torture. Every bone in your body wanted to immediately reject your boyfriend’s suggestion, but after seeing his contagious joy just from looking at it, you gave him a smile and took a hold of his hand as you walked toward the ride.

When the two of you made it to the surprisingly short line, Quinn caught a look of the visible distress on your face and the slightly tighter grip on his hand than usual.

“We don’t have to get on if you don’t want to.” He said, giving you fingers a gentle squeeze in an attempt to ease your nerves.

You looked up at him, shaking your head. “I’m okay. Just a tiny bit nervous.”

He pressed a reassuring kiss to your forehead, ignoring the sound of a camera snapping behind you.

“You’ll be fine. I got you.”

Soon enough it was your turn to get on, the nerves in your stomach easing a little as Quinn didn’t let go of your hand as he walked on board, finding two empty seats and strapping you in before he did the same on himself.

The ride operator came around, assuring everyone was securely buckled before stepping off and walking over to the control box.

As the ride rose and tilted slightly, getting ready to spin everyone on it around at absurd speeds, you found yourself mentally and physically bracing for the movement that was bound to start at any moment.

You weren’t even able to look over at your boyfriend for any sort of reassurance before you found yourself unable to move as the machine began to move. Your back pressed against the cool metal, losing its mobility as soon as you realized how high up you were.

Even though you felt as if you could pass out or vomit at any moment, Quinn’s reaction kept you distracted.

His screams were deep and audible, mixing with the screams of others, but his specifically was prominent in your ears. You eased up at the sound of his enjoyment, yet still closed your eyes as you waited for the enjoyable torture to be over.

Before you knew it, the screams ceased, turning into pants and exhales of relief. As the machine lowered to its resting state, you finally turned your head to look at Quinn.

His hair was a hot mess, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and his hand was still intertwined with yours. He felt your eyes on him, so he turned to face you as well.

He quickly took in your appearance. Your hair tousled, eyebrows furrowed, and the rapid movement of your stomach as you caught your breath, lungs deprived of oxygen due to holding your breath the whole time.

The view was familiar, but he didn’t pin it right away. When he did, however, he quickly walked off the ride, fingers still linked with yours and made his way towards the picnic tables facing a pond.

You quirked an eyebrow at his rapid actions, still unaware of what caused his sudden shift in mood. It didn’t take long for you to realize what happened once he placed his forearms on each of his spread legs, one bouncing up and down rapidly as he leaned forward and tried to calm himself.

When you pieced everything together, you let out a laugh that caught the attention of some people around you.

“You’re joking!” You exclaimed quietly, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “No way you got turned on by that ride!”

He turned his head to look at you, “Technically, it wasn't the ride.”

You wrapped your arms around his, feeling his slight flinch before quickly easing up and melting in your hold.

After a few moments, he and his unexpected guest calmed down. “I’m good. Sorry.”

Chuckling quietly at his unnecessary apology, you took his hand and rose to your feet, his actions instantly replicating yours.

“I know one way you can make it up to me.” You whispered, leaning in closely, eyes trained on his lips.

He gulped at your words, “And what would that be?”

You stood on your tippy toes, getting as close to his lips as you could without actually touching them.

“Winning me that giant unicorn over there.” You smiled, pulling away from him and gesturing towards a basketball game with tons of stuffed animals around it.

Quinn groaned as you giggled and dragged him in the direction of the game. “You’re such a tease.”

“Yeah, yeah. Quit complaining and win me the unicorn you horny bastard.”

~✩~

After lots of missed balls, Quinn finally made enough baskets to win you the ridiculously large animal.

Once the worker handed it to him, you quickly took it out of his hands before he even got the chance to boast about his mediocre performance and pressed your face into it, eliciting a laugh from the man as he wrapped his arm around your waist and walked the two of you over to stand in line in front of a food truck.

“Thank you, Quinny.” You murmured, leaning your head against his chest.

He smiled at you and placed a kiss on the top of your head, “Least I could do. You deserve it, sweet girl.”

A rush of blood went straight to your face, the familiar warmth radiating onto your boyfriend’s chest.

You were completely dazed as he ordered food and drinks for the two of you, his precious words lingering on your mind.

Pizza, nachos, and classic fair lemonade filled your nostrils as Quinn led the two of you towards the same picnic table from earlier.

He sat down the food as he placed your stuffed friend next to you. The sound of live music caught your attention and Quinn wasted no time pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of you, the neon lights, illuminating all your best features which, to him at least, was all of them.

You swayed slowly to the music before returning your attention to the food in front of you, one item in particular catching your eye.

“What the fuck is that.” You questioned, staring intensely at the fried ball on the plate.

A soft laugh escaped Quinn’s lips, “Fried ice cream.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, “But how-?”

“Shh, don’t question it. Just try it.”