#also will have to learn how to plait

[haunted-harmonica]

I have such a vivid idea for how I want to style my hair but it isn't long enough yet pain and suffering on planet earth

[stsgluver]

synopsis. your husband still ignores the side effects of his cursed technique just so he can get a glimpse of you.

wc. 1.2k

gojo satoru was born with six eyes — a special cursed technique that allowed for an extremely precise manipulation of cursed energy, down to an atomic level. it also blessed him with a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes that were practically glowing. you’d never seen eyes so pretty.

the drawback to this gift? the skull-splitting migraines that came with the excessive information constantly being processed by his darting eyes.

as a child, the pain was manageable. gojo didn’t have much of a hold on the technique so his weaker state meant that the migraines were subdued as less information was being absorbed. however, as he grew older and more powerful, he would find himself bed ridden for at least twenty four hours if he did not take some sort of measure to protect his eyes.

his go to method was the sunglasses, almost 100% tinted — no other person would be able to clearly see out of them, if they could see anything at all. his sight, on the other hand, so impressive that he could distinguish people and the objects around them through the levels of cursed energy radiated.

still, accidents happened. whether it be him breaking his glasses, or forgetting them as young children do, he quickly learned the drawbacks to his technique. no normal medicine could relieve the pain and no sorcerer was strong enough to either.

gojo satoru met you at fifteen years old on his first day at tokyo jujutsu high. you wore a uniform similar to shoko's but your skirt was closer to the floor than it was to your thigh. your hair was longer than most female sorcerers and tied into a plait that hung against your back. in all honesty, you appeared quite plain to him. nothing particularly stood out. not even your cursed energy was particularly strong.

but you were gorgeous. completely and utterly gorgeous. his glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he analysed you from afar and it wasn't till a slap on the shoulder from geto that he snapped out of it.

within six months of knowing one another, the two of you were dating. you picked up on his habit to forgo his glasses around you pretty quickly and you definitely didn't miss the increasing amount of discomfort that would cause him.

"why do you do that?" you asked him one time.

the two of you were on a date in the park. a picnic blanket had been laid out and satoru had bought basically every single pastry and sweet at the bakery next to the park. you'd barely managed to make it through half till the both of you had given up and opted for cloud watching, giggling as he joked that one cloud in particularly looked very similar to nanami's 'emo' haircut.

satoru turned to his side to look at you questioningly, his head resting on his hand, "do what?"

"take off your glasses," you gestured to the folded pair of black glasses by his head. "i don't have to be a doctor to realise that you're in a lot of pain right now." the longer you lay there, the less satoru was actually looking up at the sky, instead just listening to you as you pointed out shapes and animals.

you knew the toll six eyes could take on his body.

he kept his eyes screwed shut when he wasn't looking at you to ease the the pain from the intense light that was too overpowering for his splitting headache. he winced when a kid screamed too loudly or ran too close and his fingers would push against the sides of his head frustratedly. as if he thought hard enough, the pain would just go away.

his lips tilted up into a lopsided grin, "but i see you."

you twisted so that your body was parallel to his. there was a faint blush on your cheeks now but you didn't look away from his eyes. how could you? "you always see me."

"not with those stupid glasses," satoru frowned, and you think it was the most serious you had seen him since you met. "seeing you and seeing your energy are two very different things."

"you're hurting yourself," you pointed out, placing one of your hands onto his cheek to gently stroke your thumb against his skin. his shoulders relaxed slightly and he leant into your touch like it was magic. like you were some drug that numbed the pain, replacing it with a special serotonin only you could give him.

"worth it." satoru kissed your palm.

that was his only response. worth it. and he stuck to it even a decade later.

"old habits die hard, i guess," satoru tried to laugh at his poorly made joke, but only a few shakey breaths came out. you'd been home thirty minutes and he'd already been sick twice. he'd curled himself up in your shared bed not long after the second time and that was where he was when you began scolding him for his carelessness.

"you are twenty eight," you rant exasperatedly, juxtaposing your voice that is no louder than a gentle whisper, "you have three first years to be looking after right now, but no, someone wanted to go out for dinner and someone didn't want to wear their glasses, and someone-"

satoru's much larger hand squeezed yours, "don't be cruel. i do this for you, my love." his blindfold was now on (you had made him put it on as soon as you had gotten home) but you know him well enough to know he was staring up at you with those lovesick eyes that made you weak at the knees.

"i just worry," your tone eased. you had no issue looking after your husband, you never had. it wasn't his fault that he got the migraines per se. yes, he could definitely be doing more to mitigate the severity, but he was stubborn. that had never changed. "i've seen you fight special grades. i hate seeing a stupid headache hurt you so much."

"lay with me."

"you're sweaty and sick." you scrunched up your nose, eyes flicking to the en suite you'd just cleaned and back to the cold flannel on his forehead as his body temperature fluctuated.

he shook his head, placing his index finger over his lips. "shhh, i'm passed that stage. pretty please? i need you."

gojo satoru was irresponsible at the best of times. he'd been raised to believe he was invincible and had been spoiled to always get what he had wanted. there was no telling him what to do when he'd already decided an hour ago exactly what he wanted to do.

but there was something about being needed by gojo satoru. you could never say no to him. so whether it be due to his own decision to stare into the eyes of his wife during a romantic night out, or an extensive fight against a cursed spirit, you would always be there to clean up and make sure he was wrapped up in bed all cosy.

and you would always lift up the covers and climb in once there was no more that you could do but simply act as a pillow for your husband as he tried to sleep off the throbbing pain.

a/n. um so my previous post on this topic blew up and i’m so so grateful so i thought i’d expand a little on this hc for anyone that was interested. rambled a bit towards the end but i hope you still like it!! love you lots xxx

[dear-slim]

not your mama - m.m

Warnings: Swearing

Pairing: Eminem x fem!reader

Summary: Em needs a babysitter to stay the night with Hallie. 💜

A/N - I’m using ‘Em’ as his nickname coz it’s easier for my fingers to type tehe, also it’s old blonde Em from the 2000s 😘

@anjee0

Em didn’t know how he could’ve overlooked the fact that he was leaving a five year old Hallie by herself in his place for his concert, but he knew one thing. He needed a babysitter and he needed one fast. He would not leave his little girl alone for a night, never.

“Thank fuck,” he groaned as you rang the doorbell. Your finger had barely even grazed the doorbell before the door was swung open, a very stressed looking Em in baggy blue jeans and a white tank, his muscles flexing, his expression painted with stress.

“Thanks for doing this, I really need this,” he said as you nodded, not even able to get a ‘hi’ out as he led you into the lounge where a little girl was sitting on the sofa with some book on her lap. “Hi Hallie,” you smiled to her as she waved to you politely.

“Dinner’s in the fridge for her, help yourself to anything,” he said, listing off things he needed you to know, his eyes full of panic and the need to get out. “Sleep in the guest room, get her to bed by 9, and just keep her safe,” he said.

“I- okay, good luck with your show!” you said as he’d basically already left by the time you spoke. “Right, then,” you said, giving Hallie a little grin as she giggled, her hair in pigtails. Hallie was surprisingly cooperative the whole time, she didn’t make the whole situation a pain.

time skip - the next day

You were in the kitchen with Hallie sitting on the island, her legs dangling over the edge of the counter as you helped her pull on some cute, small little trainers. She was eating toast, her hair braided in a small litres braid over her shoulder.

You looked up as the door opened, a very tired Em giving you a weary smile as he walked in. “Did she behave?” he asked you, his smile flickering to his daughter as you nodded. “Daddy, look,” she said, “Y/N braided my hair,” she showed her dad the little braid.

“Wow,” he said, running a finger over the plait. He’d tried a bunch of times to learn how to braid, as Hallie loved it, but he couldn’t, it was just hard. “I’ll leave your payment on the side by the front door,” he said to you as Hallie looked between you and Em.

“Daddy,” Hallie said, “does Y/N have to leave now?”. You didn’t say anything - you and Hallie had bonded quite well, and in all honesty, you were quite dreading telling her you’d need to leave. “Yes, baby,” Em said as her face fell, and she put her toast back down onto the plate.

“Daddy, I don’t want her to go,” she said, her eyes wide as he sighed. “She has to, Hallie-,” Em was cut off by an indignant shriek from Hallie. “No! I don’t want her to go, I don’t want mama to go,” she said, her eyes widening as you paused doing the laces of her shoes.

“Hallie,” Em said, his voice cold all of a sudden, eyes narrowing slightly, “she’s not your mama, okay?” he said, his tone changing to one of slight annoyance. “It’s best you leave,” he said to you, his gaze not lifting from the counter as you nodded, stepping back from his daughter.

You grabbed your coat and shoes, pulling it on and not looking back - you didn’t want to make the situation anymore harder for Hallie. “Daddy, is she gonna come back?” Hallie asked, her voice somewhat demanding as she stayed in the kitchen with her father.

“Maybe…maybe next time I have a concert, okay?”.

[hotmencoreplus]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 ‘𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭’ 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Simon Riley x sister!reader (she/her)

Summary: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, the infamous, relentless and fearless Task Force 141 soldier. And the particulars of him being the guardian of his baby sister.

Warnings: Talks of war and deployment, mentions of a traumatic childhood, language. Attempted to do it chronologically, but have added bits here and there

Word count: 3300+

A/N: Basing this off the theory that he is mid 30’s in mw2.

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this sideblog @hotmencoreplus for the account, @hotmencore

‣ Simon wasn’t at all prepared to be an older brother, but when he saw you, he knew it was his job to protect his little baby sister.

‣ You were the only one who was fortunate enough to not be killed by Washington, so when Simon was made aware of your survival, he took you in as his own.

‣ He doubted himself at first, fearing he would turn out like his dad, but also didn’t want to abandon you like he had been as a child.

‣ He wasn’t experienced in any way shape or form with taking care of a baby, so most of his days when not on deployment consisted of him watching youtube videos and going online to figure out how to do stuff and take care of you properly.

‣ When on deployment, he left you with a trusted neighbour who he had known for years before. (I feel like this would either be like a man who he would call his ‘best friend’ when home, or an old woman who has kids of her own, that use to babysit him)

‣ He would spoil you the best he could, and make you as happy as possible, not wanting you to have a childhood anything remotely like his.

‣ He definitely still gets help off of google for some things. He isn’t really too good with knowledge on ‘girly’ things.

‣ When home, you and him would always sit at the kitchen table of an evening, you playing with barbies whilst he sat across from you modding his rifle. As you got older, it would be the same just you with homework. You didn’t speak much when sat with each other, though it was always a comfortable silence for the both of you.

‣ Once when in primary school, you came home with a pout as you were jealous of your classmates pigtails and plaits, seeing that Simon only really knew how to brush your hair. So that night, he spent an hour watching videos over and over so that he could learn how to plait your hair.

‣ He felt stupid watching the videos, and frustrated that it took him so long to get the hang of it, but he knew it was all worth it when he saw the grin on your face the next morning as you looked at your hair in the mirror to see it all pretty and plaited.

‣ He also felt the same each birthday or christmas when you were little, worried that the little amount that he was able to get you wouldn’t be enough to make you happy. But 100% of the time, it was just him underestimating himself.

‣ When you were young, he never bothered to mention his own birthday. But one year when with your neighbour, you found out his birthday was a couple days after he came back from deployment. So you saved up money for the 2 weeks before he came back, and bought him a little teddy bear and a bar of chocolate. You also made him a little loom band bracelet, and haphazardly wrapped them up and hid them under your bed.

‣ When his birthday did arrive, you came downstairs to him in the living room, holding the parcel out in front of him. He lifted you up onto his lap, taking the parcel from you. “What’s this?” He asked, looking at it as he peeled his fingers from the cellotape of which you’d badly wrapped it with.

‣ “Happy birthday” you say softly with a smile, and that right there made Simon’s heart melt. He unwrapped the gift, and held the bear out in front of him. You looked at him eagerly, though his expression was confusing to you. “I hope you like it” you say with a slight hint of doubt. But Simon smiles at you, yes, smiles, and pulls you closer to him, placing a small kiss on your cheek, “I love it, thank you Y/N” he says, and the grin returns to your face.

‣ Simon had never felt more appreciated by anyone in his life.

‣ He let you off that one morning to share the chocolate with him, after eagerly placing the loom band on his large wrist, showing him that you now had matching ones.

‣ And he wears it everyday, even on deployment, under his uniform.

‣ And he still does to this day, years later.

‣ He also has a tattoo tucked away somewhere that he got for you, most likely your initials.

‣ When he first joined 141, Price was the only one who knew about you, and that Simon was the one who took care of you.

‣ He knew from Ghost’s files, as when he joined the task force, you were at the age where Simon wanted you written down as who was told when he died.

‣ You were at the age where it was harder to just pretend he never existed. Because when you were a baby, that was his plan. Before he joined it was your neighbour that was put down, just as a telling that you would need to be put in someone else's care.

‣ When Ghost requested the change to his file, he asked Price that someone could go over and tell you in person, rather than just a phone call, or his dog tags through the mail. Which caused for him to have to let Price know of your existence.

‣ He also asked for Price to tell Laswell, as he trusted her and wanted someone there for you who was in the UK more than he was, and in case both him and Price were on a mission/ far away.

‣ He also did it as he believed that you needed at least one female figure somewhat a part of your life, though you've only met her like once or twice.

‣ It takes a good amount of time and full trust in a person for Simon to be comfortable with them meeting you, or even just knowing of you. Which is why Johnny found out so randomly.

‣ You were late pre-teens when Simon was coming home from deployment, and got a call from his friend, apologising that he couldn’t pick him up from base. Johnny overheard the conversation and insisted that he dropped Simon off, though he was perfectly fine getting a taxi.

‣ Simon did message you to stay in the house, but you weren’t paying any mind to your phone, just looking out the window waiting for his arrival. Your own excitement blinded you to the fact it wasn’t the car of Simon’s friend dropping him off, so when you saw his skull mask through the car window, you jumped off the couch and ran out the door to him without a second thought. You didn’t hesitate in giving him a massive hug, which, though Johnny hadn’t pulled off yet, Simon reciprocated, as he knew there was no way of exactly hiding you now.

‣ It wasn’t at all that he didn’t trust Johnny enough, Simon just always felt awkward bringing it up and didn’t expect the circumstances of which he was in, so wasn’t prepared at all.

‣ Soap didn’t like to pry, but was curious and immensely shocked to see a young girl run out of his house and jump onto Simon’s huge frame. He knew it couldn’t have been his daughter as Simon would have simply been far too young for that to be true. So he made the conclusion of you being his sister, and tried to keep it to himself.

‣ Though on the next deployment, Johnny did ask about the young girl he saw, and with a grumble of a reply, he then understood that his guesses were correct. By then he trusted Gaz enough as well, so the whole of 141 eventually knew of Simon’s little sister.

‣ Simon keeps a little photograph of you in his uniform, in an inside breast pocket, above his heart. It’s a photo of you when you were little, the first year he put aside his fears, and took you trick-or-treating. You were dressed as a little fairy, grinning up at the camera, your face covering most of the shot as you leant forwards into the frame.

‣ You two don’t have any proper photos with each other, apart from one from when it was your birthday one year, and you told Simon that the only thing you wanted was a photo of the two of you together. So Simon begrudgingly granted your wish after a lot of convincing.

‣ In the photo, you are stood next to each other in the hallway of your home, you grinning with your short arms attempting to wrap around his large waist, and him stood looking emotionless with his simple skull mask on, his arm behind you resting on your back.

‣ It wouldn’t look sentimental at all to anyone else, but you treasured it. It stays on your bedside cabinet, with one of his old dog tags that he let you keep. You also have another old one of his attached to the zip of your school backpack.

‣ Simon never really decorated your room too much when you were younger, as he was new to the whole thing and decided that he would let you do it with him when you were older and found your own passions and interests. So first off for several years your room consisted of a small single bed, a wardrobe, and littles shelves for your toys, all of which he built with you sat on the floor of your room with him one day.

‣ But when you did find yourself and what you liked, you both spent a couple days decorating it. As it was just you and Simon in the house, you weren’t ever very ‘girly’ so the walls were painted a pale blue, and he bought you some new shelves and some fairy lights/ LED’s to hang up around your bed.

‣ When you use to get nightmares or just couldn’t fall asleep, you would sneak into Simon’s room, and wake him up so that you could stay with him. Although due to his own nightmares, was usually awake before you came in anyways. But there was something he secretly found so sweet about hearing your little feet try to quietly pad down the hallway to his room.

‣ He never minded, because he had nightmares all the time. Simon would never admit it, not even to his baby sister, but he enjoyed the nights where he would have her with him. Because in the long run it did actually help him fall asleep, knowing he wasn’t completely on his own.

‣ He had you.

‣ Due to him being away quite a lot, you have been aware of his job since you were little.

‣ Though when you got older, you wanted to know more about it. Simon didn’t really want to tell you much, as he didn't believe it was something he wanted his sister knowing about, but after so much pestering from you, he caved in. You learnt about his callsign, and how he always wore the skull mask.

‣ Once meeting Soap properly, he was the one to tell you about how infamous your brother really was on the field.

‣ You found it pretty cool that you were one of the only people in the entire world who new what the Simon Riley truly looked like, and secretly took pride in it.

‣ You have always known Simon with and without his mask, so it never feels weird. He rarely wore it when you were a toddler, though when you were first born he mostly kept it on, scared his scars were gonna frighten you.

‣ But the first time he took it off in front of you, you babbled and giggled, and reached out to his face. So from then on, he didn’t bother wearing it around you.

‣ There was one occasion when he came to pick you up from a neighbours after almost a year long deployment, and you were shy with him. It hurt Simon a bit, and made him feel guilty for not being there, and that you had grown so much in the time he was away. But the feeling soon melted away once your neighbour gave you a little push from behind their leg, you softening in Simon’s touch as he held you close in his arms.

‣ His teenage years were the most traumatic for him, so when you transitioned into yours, he became even more protective of you. You sometimes fought over this, and Simon felt bad, but you knew that he was doing it because he wanted nothing more than for you to be safe.

‣ When he bought you your first phone, he definitely made you have Life360 or something like it, so that he knows where you are just in case he needs it.

‣ He would never go crazy on where you were and who you were with. He trusted you. But when away, every night before he went to bed himself, or whenever it was late in the UK timezone, he would check that you were at home. It made him relax slightly about being away, knowing that you were safe.

‣ You were about 15 when you were properly introduced to the 141 team, as behind Soap’s teasing and pestering, Simon knew that you needed some other adult figures in your life. So, much to your own surprise, he messaged you asking if you wanted to come get him from base one time with his neighbour.

‣ You knew that Simon wasn’t really much of a physical affection type of guy, but you could never resist when he was coming back home after a deployment. And even less so now that you were able to come to base. But he also knew that much to his dislike for the public display of it, there was nothing he could do to stop you from doing so.

‣ And with that fact in mind, he knew he had to reciprocate the gesture, so when you did run up to him with your arms out, for a second he forgot about that fact the rest of the guys wouldn’t let cold old ‘Ghost’ hear the end of it, and wrapped one arm around you, lifting you up with ease, his bags clutched in his other hand. You practically squealed to him how much you��d missed him, as he mumbled back in your ear that he did you, too. Lucky for him the others didn't hear that.

‣ Once he had put you down, he very much awkwardly introduced you to the others in a grumbly tone.

‣ When you turned to them, the first thing that they all collectively noticed were your eyes.

‣ You had Simon’s eyes.

‣ Johnny’s hello was an enthusiastic “Good to finally meet you lass,” Simon glaring at Soap, aware of the amusement this brought him, knowing his lieutenant was annoyed as hell.

‣ Gaz nodded at you with a smile, and Price said hello in a deep but warm tone, looking on at you with an almost proud gaze.

‣ Price didn’t know what to expect when Soap loudly made everyone aware of Ghost’s new visitor at base pick up, as Johnny was the only one of them who had seen you before to recognise you as Ghost's sister, though they knew you existed (much to their inital surprise). But when you turned to the rest of the team without hesitance, Price instantly felt an even higher level of respect towards Simon as it was clear from your confident and polite hello that he had raised you well.

‣ Much to Simon’s own self doubt.

‣ One night when the 141 were all at a bar, Price quietly told Simon about how he had done well with you, knowing that he was definitely uncertain of his own worth in your life. But Simon heard the sincerity in his Captain’s voice, and with a quick look of appreciation towards John, he then didn’t doubt himself as much as he had before.

‣ Simon sometimes does mess up though with his language around you, only recently now that you have gotten older. But he isn’t too fussed, just as long as he doesn't hear you repeat any of it.

‣ Seeing that it is only you two in the house 24/7, you both surprisingly get on really well, and there have only been a rare few occasions when he has had to put his foot down.

‣ But these rare occasions would mainly consist of something silly to the point that he got sick of your nagging, like when you begged him to have ice cream for breakfast.

‣ “Please Simon, just this once-“

‣ “No, Y/N! You said that last time. Now drop it.”

‣ There have definitely been times where neither of you can sleep, and now that you're older, you both just sit with each other in comfortable silence. Occasionally just putting a random film on in the living room, but most of the time you would just be at the kitchen table, with a bowl of cereal at like 2am. That is until, and this is 98% of the time, you fall asleep with your head on the table and Simon has to carry you to your room.

‣ When you got to the age where Simon was comfortable with you in the house on your own, you once mentioned to him that the first day of him being away was always the hardest, and that it felt really weird in the house.

‣ You both knew he couldn’t do much about that, but he tried little things to make it somewhat bearable.

‣ For instance, he knows one of your favourite things is leftover takeaway from when you two have one, so the night before every deployment, he always orders takeaway for dinner so that there is always some in the fridge for you on the first day of him being gone.

‣ It’s the little things that Simon does for you despite his mostly cold heart that mean the most to you.

‣ On long deployments, you write Simon letters for him to read. You do message him too, but prefer writing them, as you know he will write back, which you feel is more sincere. His letters are never as long or heartfelt as yours, but you know your brother, and that he loves you dearly.

‣ His replies would often be a few sentences, praising you on anything that you would mention about school or just exciting stuff in general, signing off with ‘Simon’, and a barely noticeable ‘x’ next to it.

‣ You keep every single one of the letters he sends back, your favourites being the ones that he would occasionally send to you, first. And secretly Simon does the same, keeping your letters tucked away in his bag under his bed.

‣ He tells you unless its an emergency, that you should stick to letters or texts, so that he can still stay focused with his job and that if you do one day call him, he knows straight away that it’s an urgent matter.

‣ There was one time when you forgot about the emergency rule, and called him to tell him you passed a test you had been stressing about.

‣ He was about to shout down the line asking what was wrong and where you were until you beat him to it with a loud “I PASSED SIMON, I PASSED THE TEST!”

‣ “That’s amazing Y/N, but you just scared the fucking life out of me.”

‣ “Oh crap. I forgot, sorry. But I passed!!!”

‣ "Great love. I'm proud of you. But next time stick it in a letter, yeah?"

[campredwood-if]

genres: Cosmic horror, thriller, semi-romance

CALLING ALL LEADERS!

We are very excited to invite you to CAMP RED WOOD! A summer home-away-from home where you'll find plenty of opportunity to learn outdoor skills and form friendships with an amazing cast of people!

Please find attached the application form to join our Camp Counselor team!

Camp Red Wood is a Lovecraftian horror based Interactive Fiction, based upon the Delta Green TTRPG system. You will take the role of a Camp Counselor for the next two weeks, helping not only to entertain a flock of bored children, but also keeping them all sane and alive for the summer! All while keeping your own sanity too, and maybe- just maybe- you'll figure out what is really happening at Red Wood Point Park.

FEATURES

Create your own Camp Counselor; customisation varies from appearance, gender, pronouns and personality; to skills, camp background and counselor role!

Interact with a cast of character, form friendships over your short summer, and maybe even fall in love!

Face the horrors!

YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE

Discover the mysteries of the bay and participate in camp activities!

Die.

ROMANTIC OPTIONS

Drew Winters

HEAD CAMP COUNSELOR

19 . Sagittarius . 5'3

Drew is a young, compassionate and determined lady. With rusty brunette hair, plaited down the side and often draped over her shoulder, she give of the air of someone meant to take the lead. She works well with the campers, creating a fun and enthusiastic atmosphere that we value for a Head Counselor.

Though we've observed that she often has issue with a few of her fellow leaders to the point of conflict, this has yet to be proven detrimental to her ability as Head Counselor.

Tobias "Tobey" Oak

ARTS AND CRAFT-TICIAN

18 . Cancer . 5'9

Tobey is a young, enthusiastic and amenable man. With dirty blonde hair, dyed green with chlorine from his time often in the water. Frizzy and untamed. He is returning for his second year as a leader. Though this time, taking the role of our Craft-tician rather than the Water Sports counselor position he had last year. Tobey is known to be liked by the campers, creating a personal and warm environment that we expect from a Leader.

Though, the boy is known to be quite distracted, and we suspect he is often under influence of cannabis, which we do not endorse, nor encourage.

Joem Masri

HIKING AND SURVIVAL SPECIALIST

17 . Virgo . 5'6

Joem is a new addition to our cast. A carefree, though quiet young man. With dark, silky hair he often has half tied back in a small pony-tail or bun. He has applied for the Hiking and Survival Specialist counselor position, with experience with rock-climbing, abseiling and quite the enthusiasm for our native flora.

For now, we'll just have to wait and see how he is with the campers.

Unfortunately this is, however, his first experience in a leadership position, and it is unclear how he will handle the role with the younger campers.

AND SIX MORE TO COME!

Join us for these two weeks, or one night, and experience enriching opportunities you wouldn't find anywhere else!

* The email is real, send through your application!

[gor3-hound]

sunflower

ft. chris redfield x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, fluff, ddlg, use of princess parts(sorry) oral(f!recieving), mating press, really sweet chris tbh, pacifier usage, non-sexual intimacy also included, hand holding during sex, p in v, creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms(reader)

a/n: more ddlg w chris... he's so perfect for it sorry... same universe as 'sweet girl' but a complete standalone. ddlg always scares me to write sksjsksjs but hope you all like it <3 feedback appreciated as always :3

word count: 1.6k words

Chris can feel the stress radiating from your body as soon as you walk into the home. He hears you drop the car keys haphazardly on the table. He walks out of his office just as you're hanging your coat up, brows furrowed in frustration with your jaw clenched.

You always got like this after visiting your dad. Chris isn't even allowed to come with you anymore after the last time. He came close to breaking the asshole's nose after he made you cry. He didn't even know why you still put up with him after everything he's done to you, but you always tell Chris ‘family is family’, and he doesn't want to push you.

He'd always be there for you when you got back, anyway. He walks up to you slowly, pulling you into his arms. He can feel the tension in your body, and it makes him frown. He tilts your head up to look at him, his thumb gently rubbing at the crease between your brows until it softens and you're looking up at him with those bright eyes he loves so much.

“There's my baby.” He coos, leaning down to plant kisses all over your face with a smile. He combs his fingers through your hair, carefully untangling a few knots that formed. He finds himself smiling even wider when you finally start to relax in his arms, rubbing your cheek against his chest sweetly.

“Daddy…” You breathe out, hugging him tight. His large hand runs down your back, stopping before rubbing small circles right above your ass. He hums softly, kissing the crown of your head. He knew you needed this when you got like this. Needed him.

“It's okay, baby. Daddy's got you. Let me take care of you, yeah?” He whispers, his breath tickling your hairline as he leans down slightly to be more on your level.

He runs a bath for you, peeling the clothes off of your body slowly. He even puts in your favourite glittery pink bath bomb, despite it being a pain in the ass to clean up. He'd be scrubbing the discolouration off the tub for weeks, and by then, you'd have used it again. An endless cycle, but one he'd endure for as long as he lived if it was for you. He picks you up and sets you in, massaging soap into your body as you sit in the warm water. You melt under his touches, practically purring like a little kitten.

He's careful not to get your hair wet as he washes you, being as gentle as he can. He dries you off with the fluffiest towel in the cabinet and slips you into the comfiest pyjamas you own.  He ends up setting you between his legs in the bedroom with your pacifier in your mouth and hair supplies in his hand, the TV playing Tangled for the fourth time this week. 

It's Wednesday.

He genuinely thinks he might have to get a lobotomy if he hopes to ever get ‘I Have A Dream’ out of his head. He's more than ashamed to admit he's been humming it between sets at the gym. Oh, well. A small price to pay for your happiness.

He cares for your hair as you focus on the movie, detangling any knots gently, just as you’ve taught him to do before. He tries his best to part your hair into two sections, but it ends up being a little messy. At least he learned how to braid. He was quite proud of himself for that one. It only took a dozen YouTube tutorials to figure it out. He carefully twists your hair into two plaits, kissing the nape of your neck once he's done.

“You're so cute, princess.” He coos, his big hands coming to rest on your waist so he can tug you into his lap. He runs his hands under your shirt, gently caressing the skin of your stomach. “I could just eat you up.”

He runs his stubble against your neck, feeling warmth flood his chest as you start to squirm and giggle, teeth clinging onto your pacifier to keep it in place. He laughs softly at the sight, nipping the side of your neck playfully before picking you up, lying you down on your back in the bed. He raises your shirt up, dipping his head down to your stomach.

“Maybe I should. You look so sweet.” He teases, planting kisses all over your soft stomach as you wriggle underneath him. Your paci slips from your mouth as you laugh, your hands coming down to try and push him away by his head. 

“Daddy, you can't eat me!” You say between giggles, kicking your feet out slightly. He doesn't relent, blowing raspberries against your tummy, making you squeal. “You're so silly.”

“Oh, but I can.” He says, grinning against your soft skin. His head trails lower, nudging your clit through the fabric of your pyjama shorts, peeking up at your face as he hears a soft gasp coming from you. “In fact, I thought you liked when daddy did that.”

You don't really get a chance to reply, ‘cause he's grabbing your discarded pacifier and slotting it into your mouth, tapping your hips twice in a gesture that you've come to understand means up.

He slips your shorts and panties off in one motion, his eyes locked onto the sticky string of arousal that connects the gusset of your panties to your pretty cunt as he peels them off. He shudders as he chucks then to the side, his big hands grabbing the fat of your thighs to spread your legs. He dives in, pressing a kiss to the hood of your clit. He chuckles as you whine, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“You like it when daddy kisses your princess parts, baby?” His tone is sickly sweet as he speaks just before diving in, tonguing into your entrance to gather up the slick pooling there. All you can do is nod dumbly, biting down on the pacifier in your mouth as you moan around it, your noises muffled by the plastic.

He only ever pauses in fucking you with his tongue to shower you with kisses and praise, talking about how pretty you are as he presses his lips against your tummy and the inside of your thighs. He coos at you and squeezes your hips in his hands, making sure to show you how much he loves you.

He laps eagerly at your release when you finally tense up and come, relishing in the sweet taste that coats his tongue, lips and stubble. He just pulls back and grins, wiping it off with the bottom of his shirt before tugging it up entirely.

Your gaze is locked onto him as he strips, the pacifier in your mouth bobbing as you suck on it. You wriggle slightly on the bed, propping yourself up against the plush pillows so you can watch as he prods at you before slowly sinking into you with a groan.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He says through gritted teeth, doing his best to stay still as your tight heat envelops him. “Not too sensitive?”

“M'good, daddy.” You slur around your paci, your brows furrowed slightly from the stretch of his fat cock. Your thighs are shaking slightly, but he trusts you're telling the truth. His little princess knows better than to lie to daddy.

“Good… good girl.” He hums, running a hand up your side, gripping your waist before he starts to move his hips, slowly fucking into you.  He moves his hands to the back of your knees, pulling your ass flush against his thighs before folding you in half, pressing your knees to your chest by leaning his weight down on you, your legs thrown over his shoulders.

“Fuuuuck.” He hisses, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his forehead against yours, fucking deep into you with every thrust. He gets so deep like this - filling every inch of you up in a way that has you gasping and whining.

Your pacifier slips from your mouth and drops onto the bed again, one of your hands opening and closing in a grabbing motion. “Hand, daddy.”

His hand finds yours, locking your fingers together and giving it a little squeeze. He smiles softly, his thick length rutting into you as he presses you further into the mattress. He grunts as he feels your walls starting to clamp down on him, his breaths coming out in short pants.

“That's it, cutie. Cum for me.”

“Daddy!” You moan, back arching as your orgasm hits. You squirt all over him, bursts of sticky fluid covering his lower abdomen. It drips down his cock and coats his balls, soaking the sheets underneath you.

“Such a messy baby, huh?” He breathes out, his hips stuttering as you flutter around him, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. “Your pretty sheets are all ruined.”

He drops his head into the crook of your shoulder, panting as he bottoms out, shooting thick ropes of cum deep into your pussy. He can't bring himself to pull out, so he pulls you against his body and manoeuvres you so you're lying on top of him without ever leaving you.

“There we go. Such a good girl. My precious angel.” He whispers breathlessly, his chest heaving slightly from the intensity of the orgasm. He runs his hand up and down your back, petting you gently.

“I love you, princess.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear, kissing it lightly.

“Love you more, daddy.”

[redbleedingrose]

Girl Dad!Cassian x reader Headcanons

A/N: I love me some girl dad Bat boys and Vanserra bros. TBH all the ACOTAR males would make incredible girl dads and I was just thinking about Cassian today. Anyway, this is for @augustinerose I know that it has been tough recently, so I hope this made you smile. <3

Cassian is a girls girl. He LOVES his daughter, and wants his babe to be able to express herself in any way she wants. So he def lets his daughter paint his nails pink and purple, and grins so wide when she smacks a kiss onto his cheek calling him pretty. And he takes real good care to paint her nails all nice and clean.

Cass is also happy to let his pretty princess put some makeup on him, with the blue eyeshadow and red lips. Male is not even the slightest bit embarrassed when you walk into your home to find him sitting on the floor so that your daughter can reach his face, six bows of all colors in his hair that is half braided and half curled, with your reddest shade of lipstick being smeared all over him. The guilty look from your babe stealing your makeup is too cute, and you settle down into Cass’ lap and ask her to do your hair and makeup too.

He would die for this child, and do practically anything to see a smile on her face, so he is gonna wear the purple tutu and tiara for his girl, and he is absolutely gonna have his pinky pointing out while he sips water from a tiny princess tea cup cuz his baby girl scolded him for not using "proper etticuite daddy."

Occasionally, she can also rope in Az and Rhys and they might roll their eyes and moan and groan, but they are gonna do anything for that little girl because they adore her and she is the only baby girl in the family so far. They spoil her like no other. You had to practically ban Rhys from getting her anymore dresses because there was no more storage in your home, and you nearly threw him into the Sidra when he offered to add another room to your home so he could fill it up with more jewelry and shoes and tutus for the “night court princess”

And on starfall, she does little dance routines for the whole family but she willet all shy about dancing her little ballerina routine in front everyone in the inner circle, so he helps her out and dances by her side even getting on his tippy toes despite everyone is snickering at him, this big burly male twirling around with his muscled arms pointed to the sky with his "mini me"

He loves pretending to chomp and eat her ruddy cheeks because it makes her cackle from deep in her tummy, and he is always blowing raspberries into her chubby belly. Don’t even get me started on those chunky thighs, and stinky feet. Cass wants to cry every single time he thinks about his pretty princess growing up. He wants her to stay young forever, to never worry about a single thing, to make sure that he can always watch over her and protect her.

When she was a newborn, he would steal her from the bassinet and take her on flights, wrapping her tiny wings into a wooly blanket to make sure they stay warm and cozy, and he would spend hours just flying around and telling her stories about his life, and stories about you. His favorite topic to talk about to her while she snoozes away is how much he loves you and how much he loves her. His obsession with his girls is truly a next level of adoration.

Ugh AND he loves cutting up fruit for her, and she just walks around munching on it with her tiny fist around the fruit and juices smeared across her cheeks. An he is always so gentle about wiping away the juices with a wet rag, having her sitting on the counter with her tiny legs swinging back and forth kicking his corded thighs while he cleans her ups and smooches her ruddy cheeks when he is done

Let us also discuss how Cassian learned how to braid hair by the Valkaryie warriors, and so he is the expert when it comes to doing her hair. Male can do twists and plaits so fast and instinctually, its insane. Most days, you have him doing your own hair. Oh, and she was born with a TUFT of hair that he would play with to soothe her. It is thick and dark just like his, and curls at the end, and he thinks it is one of his favorite features that he passed on to her.

OOOHHHH and imagine him teaching her to fly when she finally has the strength to control those muscles. She is all frustrated with fat tears rolling down her ruddy cheeks cuz “is too hard daddy” and he is down on one knee in front of her, rubbing his large hands over her tiny shoulders hushing her little cries, “s’okay baby, you’re right, it is hard,” and he smooches her cheek and pulls back to stare into her big eyes, “but you know what sweet girl? You can do it. It might take some time and practice, like most things do, but you will do it. And I will be here every step of the way, ‘kay?” And she sniffles, rubbing her tears away with a tiny fist and snuggles into his big chest while nodding.

Every birthday, he buys her a bouquet of flowers. And he also buys you a bouquet of flowers, making sure to thank you for the best gift he has ever received.

Okay maybe I will add more to this later, but this all I got for now, I hope you enjoyed!!!

[astralnymphh]

Would anyone agree with me when I say abby looks like someone who would learn French and then just uses it to make her girls knees weak (cause let's face it that's what foreign languages have power for) [I also feel like she would totally read some classic literature in French cause "it's just better that way" but thats besides the point]

i can actually see that, hear that, feel that in my itty bitty bones, and im not even an abby girl at heart. fucking try to prove me otherwise— but abby procuring a week long sabbatical to the heart of france, paris, for the both of you is so fucking canon. at random too, dude. out of the deep, deep blue her blonde ass would crawl over your dream–absorbed, cooped up body with both her splayed hands shifting weight on either side of you— like a goddamn dog, n' voila your eyelids are creaking open to the wet press of tepid lips and a caramelly thick whisper lacing lines across your neck, "who said you could sleep in past noon'?" so soft and tilting a smoky tone— springs you right out of that groggy state. n' the moment ur' rolling upon your back to garner a blurred look at those gloomy aegean sea eyes that has your heartstrings aswoon and fluttering, she lifts her torso up and away, sat between your thighs— spilling the news, "we're goin' to paris." just straight up. no good morning. no 'hello how was your dream?'. deadass just chucks you right into befuddlement. "wha—?" you curl n' plait your brows confused, the face abby never fails to chuckle at openly, "hmhm, want me to explain over breakfast? or, maybe.." her palm glides a soft pressure over your stomach, tucking fingers underneath the blankets and peeling them slow, "n' bed, de rigueur— as usual?" yet, her legs are already creeping over the stripped blanket and slumping to your side, draping that hunky arm of hers, biceps snug to your reposed waist, hand cradling your belly and lips so dear to the rim of your ear— ready to elaborate and.. twiddle your brain with some french~, "mon amour?"

i just know her french rings out thick and fluid, her voice is just perfect idk. fs will whisper it in your ear at every rise of first light ♡♡ definitely during romantic sex like no denial she'll start chanting that shit like a spell in ur' ear. although it probably is a spell because the tune is just so entrancing. wow, aestra writes 4 abby now?? i never do, so idk how ooey gooey good this is. complimentary gif, tho

[fishsticksloser]

Hi! I hope it's okay to leave a little request. It's ok if you'll ignore it.

So, I've been thinking about a thing called lovelock. From Wikipedia its a "long lock of hair, often plaited (braided) and made to rest over the left shoulder (the heart side) to show devotion to a loved one." I wanted to ask for a female reader or gn reader to do this, and how would turtles react when they learn about what this is and what it means. Reader could also add some accessories to match a turtle's colour, like a blue feather for Leo.

Thank you in advance!

Love Lock

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff, short

A/N: I really honestly can't believe it's the 22nd... My brain can't compute that... I'm so fucking angry with Tumblr rn...

Donnie

Thinks it's so dumb

At least that's what he says out loud

In reality he's flattered

The fact that you got something in his color

Something to symbolize him

He can't get over it

Leo

Beyond flattered

And constantly lets your know.

He plays with it when you lay with him

Or any time its within reach

He loves it so much

Mikey

Loves it

He'll make things to decorate it

Will specifically make them orange since that's what you wanted

He loves putting new things on the lock

Raph

Blushed when you first showed it to him

He loves it

He loves playing with it

Raph wishes he could grow hair to have one for you two

He loves the idea, loves the meaning behind it

[zer0brainc3lls]

Newtmas headcanons perhaps?

Ik my requests are closed but I got this awhile ago and I just decided screw it and ima answer it (sorry I’m so late) but srsly my requests are closed ☹️ also this post is RIDICULOUSLY LONG. BE WARNED.

- when they were in the scorch newt struggled with all the walking and running because of his leg, Thomas would call for breaks saying he’s tired when really he’s fine and just noticed Newt was having a hard time

- Thomas has leg strength, Newt has arm strength

- they silently communicate ALL the time, glances, body language etc. they don’t need to be vocal to know what the other wants to say and it’s extremely annoying for everyone around them 😭 example:

Jorge: *proposes plan*

Thomas: *looks at newt*

Newt: *looks at Thomas*

Jorge: what are you two doing?!

Thomas: yeah ok we’re in

Jorge: what do you mean we? Newt can speak for himself-

Newt: no I’m in?

Thomas: yeah Jorge he’s in what are you talking about?

Jorge: what are YOU talking about??

- Thomas loves to read, Newt loves to write. Newt rarely writes anything fictional, often only writing about his day but likes writing poetry and Thomas loves reading Newts poetry ☹️

- when Newt got the flare Thomas wrote down any symptoms he knew about it and asked Brenda about it as well, even taking posters that were hung up for his own reference.

- when Newt got the flare he would sometimes try to start arguments over petty things that didn’t matter, not realising his anger wasn’t his own and Thomas would just look at him with a sad smile :( example:

Newt: your a bloody idiot sometimes you know that?! WHY would you-

Thomas: *looks away*

Newt: … sorry, I didn’t mean-

Thomas: I know. it’s okay, it’s not your fault.

- Thomas often looks for pain medication on supply runs for Newts leg, he tells Newt he just found it when really he spent ages searching for it

- sometimes leading the group is a lot for Thomas, he turns to Newt to make decisions sometimes. Newt gives suggestions on what to do and how to say it since he was second in command for so long and saw how alby ran the show.

- Thomas LOVES Newts hair, any chance he gets he’s constantly touching it, burying his face in his hair, if it got kinda long he would plait small bits of it.

- despite Thomas’s leg strength he’s a TERRIBLE swimmer, never learnt how. Newt however? Despite he’s leg he’s surprisingly good, he learnt in the lake at the glade and when they got to the safe haven he INSISTED that Thomas had to learn, for his safety of course. (He really just wanted to see Thomas in board shorts but he never told him that)

- Thomas is an absolute SUCKER for Newts freckles/moles, in the glade Newt wore lots of tank tops and shorts since he was out in the sun all day gardening so he developed large freckles and moles alllll over his body and Thomas CANNOT get enough!!! Thomas kisses them all the time and Newt pretends to be annoyed (but he secretly loves it)

- how they got together was a whole gay mess 😭 example:

Newt: *staring longingly as per usual*

Thomas: *catches him and stares back*

Thomas: uhh-

Newt: *kisses him*

Newt: so uhm.. are we-?

Thomas: YES. YES PLEASE.

- they aren’t super massive on nicknames, but they have a few!!

Newt: Tommy, my love (if they are alone), love

Thomas: babe, honey (if they are alone), hun

- they both love their slight height difference, TO THEM ITS NOT SLIGHT OK!!

- in the scorch (after they got together but they hadn’t told anyone yet) they held hands. All. The. Time. If they were outside in the and Thomas would say “I’m just helping Newt through the sand” and if they were inside Newt would say “Tommy here is just helping me with my bum leg, isn’t that right Tommy?” (Everyone knew but said nothing, they thought they were soooo sneaky)

- before they got together they would insult eachother (never going over the line of course) ALL THE TIME. Like playfully, example:

Newt: your a shuckfaced idiot y’know that Tommy?

Thomas: oh really? Well you’re a hotheaded shank!

Newt: me?! Hotheaded?! Oh please- we both know who’s the hotheaded one!

Thomas: I hate you so so much

Newt: I hate you more!

Brenda: do you two need a minute or..?

- I have said this once but I’ll say it again, Thomas is so atrociously down bad for Newts accent. Like DOWN. BAD. Newt is unaware of this because Thomas has made it his own personal mission to hide it but Minho knows and uses it against him all the time 😭 example:

Minho: THOMAS PLEASE!!

Thomas: NO. I WONT DO IT.

Minho: I’ll tell Newt.

Thomas: … wait no-

Newt *walks over : tell me what?

Thomas: NOTHING BABE!!!

Newt: … ok then… bye love :) *walks off*

Thomas: *red in the face* … fine.

- another thing similar to this, Thomas blushes super easily but Newt has no clue for awhile and thinks he just has naturally rosy cheeks, Minho ofc exposes him example:

Minho: Thomas doesn’t have rosy cheeks

Newt: what? Yes he does? *holds Thomas’s face to show Minho, totally oblivious* see! Right there!

Thomas: *mouthing to Minho* Don’t. You. Dare.

Minho: *LAUGHING HIS ASS OFF* Newt.. take your hands off his face and look again!

Newt: *takes his hands off Thomas face and watches as his face goes back to normal* … *LAUGHS WITH MINHO*

Thomas: SLIM IT BOTH OF YOU

- Newt is obsessed with Thomas’s hands, his hands are almost to big for him and don’t fit his proportions but are scar free and much softer then Newts, Newts hands are the right size but covered in scars and calluses and Newt constantly traces along Thomas’s knuckles, palms, fingers you name it. Soft hands are a rarity in the glade and the scorch. Newt tells him how nice his hands are constantly 😭

- Newt is very confident, and is the more flirty one and is a lot more sarcastic Thomas however is a fucking sap but SOMETIMES he matches Newts flirting and Newt is just stunned to silence

- if Newt got the cure he would’ve gained some of his memory’s back, and Thomas still has some of his memory’s from the changing so they piece together story’s that are incomplete in each others heads :) they write it all down in the unlikely case of them forgetting

- picnic FANATICS. Picnics to them is serious business in the safe haven to them and they do NOT PLAY. They have multiple blankets they bought/made made, baskets, they reserve afternoons/early mornings to have them and secret spots they go to

- Newt hates sleeping in a room alone. Absolutely hates it. Like his whole life he’s always slept near another person: in the bunker as a toddler to young child, the massive shared room while with wicked, everyone sleeping close by in the glade etc. so when they made it to the safe haven and he had the option of privacy he was STUNNED. Thomas let Newt share a hut with him and they have lived together ever since

- When Newt got the flare Thomas never changed how he treated him, everyone else got sorta wary but Thomas never doubted his abilities or judgment. Never.

- when Minho was taken Newt and Thomas clung to each other for support, Newt lost his best friend and Thomas learning how to lead on his own and also losing a friend. They’re bond became unbreakable and they learnt to depend and trust each other

- Newt trusts Thomas but as we all know he jumps into plans or ideas with little to no direction and Newt will sometimes have to make Thomas take a step back and think about what they are doing 😭

- as the months went on Thomas got more and more stressed about finding Minho, feeling that it was his responsibility to find him. Often pulling all nighters or not sleeping for days without even realising, example:

Thomas: *in the map room muttering to himself, deep purple eye bags from not sleeping for almost 2 days*

Newt: *walks in* hey Tommy.. do you know what time it is?

Thomas: uhm.. *doesnt answer and continues to do whatever he’s doing on accident*

Newt: What day is it.

Thomas: uhhh Monday? *turns to face Newt wobbly* why are you up so late? Its 1am?

Newt: Tommy it’s Wednesday, and it’s 4am. Come to bed, now.

Thomas: *stunned for a second before turning away* I’ll be there in a minute babe I just need to-

Newt: Thomas. Now. *pulls him out of the map room and forces him to sleep*

- Thomas is Newts human calculator, any math problem ever Newt will just go “hey tommy what’s ——?” And Thomas will answer without hesitation because he’s just used to it by now, Newt could absolutely do it if he paused and took a second but Thomas doesn’t need to pause or think about it he just answers 😭 it’s effortless for him

- Thomas is the worlds biggest book worm, in the glade they didn’t have many books and in the scorch books were a rare find but in the safe haven they had a bit of selection and he was ECSTATIC. Newt got him a bunch of books one time and a week later he had finished most of them

- Newt is super flexible, Thomas forgets this a lot until Newt can fit himself into tight spaces with ease meanwhile Thomas is in no way flexible and Newt also forgets this so Newt will go into a vent or something with no effort meanwhile Thomas is STRUGGLING

- Thomas and newt get into petty arguments (they aren’t actually fighting) on how to say things/spell things 😭 example:

Newt: it’s COLOUR. C O L O U R.

Thomas: ITS COLOR?!

Newt: says the boy that spells mum as m o m

Thomas: THATS HOW ITS SPELT?!

- if they are ever going up onto high places, Thomas always gives Newt a boost and then Newt will pull Thomas up

- Newt makes fires, Thomas gathers the wood and stuff to start it

- Thomas covers for Newt all the time, often forgetting to cover himself and the only reason why he hasn’t gotten hurt is because Newt does exactly the same thing for Thomas

- don’t get me wrong, they are both extremely strong and capable alone but TOGETHER?! ABSOLUTE UNIT. They know each others fighting styles, weaknesses, preferred weapons and where they keep they’re back ups 😭 they both steal eachother back up knives all the time

- they share most of they’re weapons but Thomas never takes Newts machete, it’s from the glade and very important to him and he keeps it on top shape and doesn’t like other people using it

- they aren’t huge on PDA but they 100% gravitate towards each other subconsciously, walking next to each other and holding hands, sitting next to each other, falling asleep on shoulders/laps etc they are almost always within ear shot of each other to the put of people asking one of them “where Thomas/Newt?” Instead of just trying to find them themselves because there’s a HIGH chance they both know where the other is example:

Jorge: Thomas do you know where-

Thomas: he’s getting food from frypan why?

Newt: *walks back over with two plates of food and passes a plate to Thomas* hey Jorge you need me?

- Newt loves giving words of affirmation, loves receiving physical touch, Thomas loves giving physical touch, loves receiving words of affirmation

- Thomas 100% opens and closes doors for Newt, and holds his hand getting out of cars :3 at first it was a joke and sorta teasing but it became a habit over time

- Newts the type of guy to sit as close as humanly possible to Thomas, if they’re with close friends their legs will literally be squished together and Newt will be holding his hand, god forbid they are alone 😭 legs fully draped across Thomas’s lap, tracing lines across Thomas’s palms while absolutely YAPPING. Thomas is just staring at him with big heart eyes going “uh huh” “yeah”

Anyways I hope you enjoyed my yap session

[mrsnancywheeler]

i’m actually giggling and kicking my feet rn

Finnick and his sweet girl are at the beach together, just relaxing in the warm sands of District 4. we all know Finnick LOVES to plat readers hair, so of course, that is what he is doing. he is plating a strand of his sweet girls hair, one of the front pieces if that makes any sense. Reader is just fiddling with some shells as he finishes up that small little braid, but he had to add a finishing touch.

One of the sea shells he found for you.

it is one of the ones that’s kinda swirly and pointy if that makes sense (i’m so sorry it’s actually 1am rn). he somehow finds a way to make it fit perfectly at the end of the small braid without it falling off and it looks absolutely ethereal on her😭

all he can do is just stare at his sweet girl in awe and with a massive grin as he’s now found his favourite hairstyle on her.

every. single. morning. he would ask to do that hairstyle, because she just looked so perfect. it was bonus that he also got to sit real close to his sweet sweet girl and let his fingers work his magic in her hair. he’s so proud of himself every time <3

(i’m also convinced that platting/braiding her hair is the only thing Finnick doesn’t teach reader. he will happily teach her knots, but hairstyling? no. that’s his job. it’s his job so he can sit so close to her for a long time and do one of the many things he is good at. so he can stare at his gorgeous girl and appreciate her beauty to the fullest- thanking the stars that he was blessed with an angel who shines brighter than all of the stars combined in the universe <3)

goodnight yall im actually a bit too in love with him for my own good😭

stop this is adorable, I'm so obsessed, and so deeply in love with him 💕💕💕

finnick is someone who always needs his hands occupied and so being able to do plait his sweet girls hair just makes him so giddy. the first time he's able to, it's a guarantee he will never stop. he's got such precise, nimble fingers that it barely feels like he's there at all except how relaxing it is. when he's got that shell in, he's convinced she's actually some beautiful sea goddess he's been blessed with, she's so radiant to him.

he's peppering her face with kisses and would spend all day on the beach getting each strand of hair if allowed. which is so tempting with how sweet and eager he is. and yes literally every morning-

reader is getting all ready for the day and about to leave the bedroom and finnick's looking at her confused from the bed

"what's wrong finn?"

"can I do your hair, angel?" he's got those big puppy dog eyes and she lets him which instantly has him grinning. he gets to see every small detail of her as he goes and be so close, it's like heaven to him. so it just becomes a daily routine.

"you know, if you like it that much I don't mind learning, love, I'll be able to do it so you don't have to-"

"no," he's so quick and defensive about it because he just loves it so much. it feels so intimate and blissful to him. "I do it because I love too, sweet girl, I want to."

"so you're seriously not going to teach me?"

he's kissing her on the nose, "just need you to sit there and be my pretty girl, which you need no lessons on."

I'm so in love with finnick odair y'all, he's so sweet and warm and literally perfect 💋💋💋

[allisluv]

Dad! Finnick headcanons, please! He'd be such a girl dad and a boy dad he'd be great with kids and OH MY GOSH HE WOULD BE SO GOOD WITH THEM AND TAKING CARE OF YOU AFTER YOU GIVE BIRTH SORRY IM GOING S BIT FERAL

Also can I be 🫐 anon?

im sorry this took me so long to get around to and of course you can be anon <3 cw: mentions of morning sickness. i done this as finnick being a girl!dad because that's how i see him tbh <3

finnick is so doting during your pregnancy. he holds back your hair when you're being sick and will go out in the middle of the night to get your food cravings. he will lift up your baby bump to relieve the pressure on your back.

when you finally go into labour, he's holding your hand, no matter how long you're there for. he will cry when the baby arrives and he is so gentle when you're in recovery.

finnick will learn how to braid your little girls hair and he'll thread little seashells through her french plaits.

he wipes her tears when she falls off her bike for the first time and he tells her that all she needs to do is get back up and try again. he’s cheering and grinning like a mad man when she gets the hang of it.

he is your daughters number one supporter. he will go to all her school plays and he tells her on a regular basis that she can do anything she puts her mind to.

finnick reads her a bed time story and tucks her in every night without fail. he could be on deaths door and he would still snuggle under the covers with her.

when she's feeling sick, finnick's parental instincts kick in and he insists on having her sleep in between the two of you at night just in case she gets worse <3

and when your little girl gets her first partner? the poor child fears for their life because finnick keeps on sprinkling in throwaway comments about how he knows where to hide a body 😭

[tea-plantz]

Hi!

Could you maybe write some physical affection/romantic headcanons for ennui? Like cuddling and kisses etc lol kind of like the one you wrote about anxiety. If not that’s okay! :D

Hii, thank you for the request! This was a really sweet request, and it’s always fun writing for my favorite French girl<3

~Ennui physical affection/romantic hcs~

I’m honestly not too sure how Ennui feels about physical contact, due to the fact that she was pretty distant in the movie, and never attempted to engage in physical contact herself. However, when the others touched her, (like when Envy ran up to her and hugged her, cause she was scared of the pipes falling), she didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Therefore, I think that Ennui wouldn’t mind having a partner that was touchy and clingy, as long as it’s not waaay too overbearing.

She probably kind of likes it whenever you walk over to her, as she’s laying on the couch on her phone, and snuggle up to her. Ennui lets out a low chuckle, and keeps doing her thing, whilst letting you lay against or on top of her. Maybe she even wraps her arm around your shoulders as well.

When it comes to her asking you for cuddles, she would be pretty forward about it, unlike Anxiety. Ennui would straight up just pat the spot beside her, whilst looking at you with her usual bored expression, waiting for you to go over and join her.

“I want to cuddle. Come over here. Now… s'il te plait (please)”

When Ennui feels extra bored, she’ll let out a dramatic groan as she leans on you, her body going limp, and she slumps over you like a worm.

Ennui probably wouldn’t get embarrassed that often, if someone teases her about you two being in a relationship, and being affectionate, she’ll most likely just roll her eyes at them, whilst muttering a small insult in French. Only if they where being mean about it though, and potentially hurting you, otherwise she wouldn’t really care. It’s way too much work to care about stuff, unless it’s about you or her phone.

I personally think Ennui’s main love language would be physical touch, mainly because it takes the least work, but still shows that she cares. She really does care, it’s just too tiresome to go out and buy flowers, or something. Therefore, Ennui mainly sticks with giving you hugs and all, and sleeping on you, it’s easy, but sweet. She would also give you some compliments, nicknames, and words of affirmation as a way of showing affection from time to time.

Movie dates, and playing random phone games on the couch with her is a must! She really likes spending quality time with you, by doing chill activities like that.

We’ve learned from the book ‘Go to sleep, Anxiety’ that Ennui kinda… doesn’t sleep.

“Who needs sleep anyway?”

Although I feel like her sleep schedule might get a little better if her significant other was in the picture. You would practically force her to come and cuddle with you instead of staying on her phone all night, and even though Ennui let out a bunch of groans, complaints and a decent amount of eye rolling, you finally got her into bed with you. She deserves a good night sleep<3

Ennui gives of major big spoon every-

She likes to wrap her long, slim limbs around you, hugging you tight like a teddy bear.

I don’t think Ennui would initiate much in kisses, that’s usually up to you, but she does take charge sometimes when she’s feeling extra flirty.

Honestly, she would be pretty chill about kisses, she finds them cute and all, but she doesn’t become a blushing mess or anything (like Anxiety).

She likes giving you forehead kisses, and she loves giving you kisses on your knuckles! You could simply be chilling by the console, and the next thing you know, Ennui is holding your hand in hers. She lifts it up to her mouth, and places a small kiss to your knuckles, before murmuring in her low voice:

“Bonjour, mon amor~ are you having a nice day? Not too boring?”

On a few occasions, when Ennui’s feeling really ballsy, she goes in for the full on ‘on the mouth’ kiss. She’s really good at French kissing (see what I did there?🌝).

She really likes kissing and snuggling you, she just feels like it’s too much work sometimes, and would rather you take the initiative, but when Ennui actually decides to put in a little effort, she can be pretty smooth and romantic~

Omfg I’m so bad at French, I have to google like every word, and half of it is probably wrong too😭

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 11/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

                “A fishing boat?” Bradley asks, pulling a face. “Really?”

                “You said you wanted to be in the Navy. Are you scared of a little seasickness?”

                “No. I just…”

                “Understanding and appreciating our food, from where we harvest it, or take it, is all important. Learning what fresh really looks like is also very important when it come to fish and seafood hmm?”

                “Oh yeah, I guess that’s true,” Bradley says, thinking of Johan’s ability to look at fish and simply pick the best pieces.

                “Also a week in Greece is not the end of the world hmm?”

                “Okay, you deliberately made it sound like I was going on a fishing boat in the North Sea, not a… charter boat for a week in Greece.”

                “Hmm. You will earn your stay. But I think you will enjoy the change of scenery.”

                Bradley had no idea how Leandro knows him so well, but he finds himself the sole chef on a charter yacht for a group of six tourists. They’re American, and once they realize he’s also American they stop speaking slowly and loudly, chat happily to him while he cooks. He fishes and dives with them during the day, makes breakfasts and lunches and then cooks what they’ve caught that day. He doesn’t recognize any of them, but when the week ends a couple of them tip him heavily, even though he tries to insist there isn’t any need. Then one of them passes him a business card.

                “If you ever consider setting up shop back home, look me up. I’d be interested in supporting you. And eating more of your food.”

…            …            …

                “Holy shit. Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Yeah. Hello again…”

                “You’ve met already?” Jake asks, looking between Bradley and who must be his sister. She’s maybe a few years older, hair the same color but longer, tied back in a plait. Bradley finds himself automatically nodding, although he’s also hoping that her surprise is that he’s at her front door, and not because she’s starstruck. She hadn’t seemed at all perturbed when he’d met her on Saturday with the film crew trailing him. Turning up with her brother shouldn’t be any more alarming, surely?

                “Yeah, at the Farmers Market in the weekend,” Bradley starts. “I tried the chili jam, it was really good. Bought a few jars.”

                “Oh cool. Well, then I don’t need to introduce you. Well, her name is Maria if you need a reminder. I call him Leo because Bradley Bradshaw sounds made up.”

                He’s glad Jake has provided a name, and he notes Maria’s eyebrows shoot up and god, he’s been enjoying Jake’s complete disregard for Bradley’s fame, whether it’s real or contrived he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think Jake would care, if he did know, but it’s also really nice not having any expectations put on him from the person he’s with. The last few days have been great, reminding him of his younger years in Europe.

                “Leo is the name my Italian family call me. Short for Leonardo.”

                “I definitely prefer Leo,” Jake says, grinning at him and he follows his lead in taking his shoes off, putting the bags of ingredients and previous iterations of sauce down. “Keep forgetting your name is actually Bradley Bradshaw…”

                Maria makes a high-pitched sound Bradley can only guess is a choked off laugh and he grimaces and shrugs his shoulders, tries to convey that he’s doing the best he can and Maria is just looking at him and shaking her head, her eyes wide as she looks between him and her brother.

                “Um, yeah, okay, hi again. Jake said you were after some help with… tasting things. Right. You’ve been… trying to feed him,” Maria says, now looking at Jake. “Wow…”

                “Yeah. He’s pretty decent. Not as good as grandma, or even you or Olivia, but he hasn’t killed me yet.”

                Bradley clenches his jaw to stop himself from laughing outright, his eyes not leaving Maria’s face, and she looks equal parts mortified but also like she’s also trying not to laugh again. She makes a little high-pitched sound and Bradley has to pretend to cough as a burst of laughter makes its way out. She definitely knows who he is, had known on Saturday when he’d been walking around with the film crew but she’d been very chilled and laid back, hadn’t even asked for a selfie.

                “What chores need doing? I can go and do whatever it was you were planning on doing and instead you can help Leo with his new recipe… I like your cooking, but I am kind of over tasting the same thing over and over and you expecting me to be able to taste the difference,” he says to Bradley. Bradley looks back at Maria who has covered her mouth with both her hands and closed her eyes, had her head tilted back like she’s hoping the ceiling has answers.

                “Thank you, I’ll try my best not to poison your sister…”

                “Oh god…” Maria says from behind her hands.

                “Thanks. Appreciate it. Maria, you okay?”

                Maria wipes at her eyes, waves away Jake’s concerns saying it’s the pollen making them itch and hands Jake a piece of paper with writing on it and he tucks it into his pocket.

                “I’ll be back.”

                Then he’s kissing him, his thigh slotting between Bradley’s and he finds himself almost being dipped and he knows he’s flushing bright red, wonders if that was Jake’s whole aim, trying to embarrass him. It’s over quickly, although he’s not sure if that is a good thing or not.

                “Don’t be mean,” Jake says to Maria, and then he’s tugging boots on, grabbing the same cowboy hat Bradley remembers him wearing on Saturday.

                “When am I ever mean?”

                “Only every day of my life,” Jake says with a grin, but then he’s tipping the hat and Bradley bites his lip as he watches him stride back outside. Hmm.

                “So, you’re Leo. I had no idea he was bringing you around.”

                A little reluctantly he stops watching Jake stride off, and he turns to find Maris watching him, eyes amused and he smiles.

                “Yeah. I gathered he hadn’t told you when you said holy shit first thing when you opened the door. He and I met years ago, in Italy. He said he told his sister?”

                At that Maria’s lips twitch and Bradley starts feeling a little uneasy.

                “Did he say which one?”

                “Uh. No?”

                “Has he mentioned exactly how many sisters he has?” Maria asks, and she’s folding her arms and leaning back, watching him and Bradley feels like he’s being tested. That’s fine. If he can survive the Gallo family he can survive Jake’s sisters. Why he feels like he needs to survive or befriend Jake’s sister isn’t something he’s going to examine too closely but… he likes to think he’s a nice guy when he isn’t stressed out.

                “Not exactly? But… three? I mean, I know he’s the youngest. And there’s a sister with kids because he babysat them on Monday night.”

                “Sandra.”

                “And then his sister who he told about meeting me in Italy? And that isn’t you?”

                “Hmm. He only told me about meeting you in Italy on Sunday, so… it was probably Nicola when it happened originally.”

                “Okay. So. Jake just mentioned an Olivia, so… four? That’s my best guess. Four.”

                He can’t even imagine having four older sisters, having Violet is bad enough, although he calls her cousin he sometimes wonders how much closer they’d be if they were actually siblings. She’s his best friend.

                “Nope. Five. You’re missing Amanda. She’s Nicola’s twin.”

                “Five sisters. Holy shit.”

                “What about you? Big family?”

                “No. All the stuff about me losing both my parents is true. I’ve got a big Italian family that informally adopted me though…”

                “So he met you, and you bumped into each other on Saturday and now you’re…”

                She doesn’t finish the sentence and he’s grateful, although the look she gives him clearly spells out exactly what she’s thinking. She grabs some of the bags at his feet and jerks her head for him to follow her.

                “So you’ve told him your name, he’s just…Oh my god… he has no idea who you are.”

                “You think so? I kind of like it,” Bradley admits and Maria’s shaking her head.

                “Oh, he’ll have no idea. He’s smart, but he’s also fucking oblivious. Also I’m judging you. He adds sauce to nearly everything…”

                “Yeah. I’ve noticed.”

                “Well, he had really bad reflux as a baby. Like… he needed an operation to fix it type bad. He was such a picky eater as a kid, drove us mad. We got around it by pretty much putting sauce on everything.”

                “Oh…” Bradley murmurs, and he’d wondered. He sets out the ingredients and the little containers of sauce saved from his previous attempts.

                “Yeah. Obviously he’s an adult now, he doesn’t have to add sauce, but if he has the choice?”

                “On it goes. Right. Okay…”

                “Yeah. You okay with that?”

                “Of course. He’s not making me eat it. I’m not…” he shrugs helplessly, wants to try and say he’s not the uptight and angry chef that that TV producers like to portray him as. Sure he has a temper, but it’s definitely not as bad or as frequent as they make it seem. He also knows he's got something of a resting bitch-face. At least that's what Vi calls it.

                “Hmm. Thought so. Anyway, Jake doesn’t cook. He’d never watch a cooking show. Doesn’t like reality TV at all… If you wanted to keep it on the downlow you could. I don’t think he’d accidentally stumble across you. And I can keep my mouth shut.”

                “I don’t want to keep it a secret from him or anything. He knows it’s my job. And he knows my name…”

                “Okay. So… not to be super crude but you’re just, uh, hooking up right?”

                “I mean… yeah.”

                “Well. If you decide you want something more than hooking up with him, you’re going to have to spell it out, be really obvious. More obvious than you think you need to be. And I have an idea for showing just how oblivious he can potentially be…”

TWELVE

[angelicgirlmj]

Heyy , I have curly hair and I've been going back and forth between doing chimcal treatment (protine) ,having it straight and starting my curly journey all over again, when it's summer break I love it but when school starts it gets hard to manage especially when I'm trying to look and feel clean , put up tougher. It really dose effect my confidence, do you have any tips for me please ,also I really love your content

hi angel! so i also have curly hair and yeah, 100% it can be alot to manage especially back at school. i personally would say in my experience/encounters with friends who have overly straightened or chemically treated their hair they do regret it long term due to the damage and loss of curls and overall hair health. curly hair is so so pretty and fun - so many girls would die for natural curls! the trick is to find ways to make it easier for you to manage daily and fit around school. here are some things i do to manage my curls:

wear a silk bonnet or hair wrap and sleep on a silk pillow case if possible. if not put your hair up in a loose bun or plait to prevent damage and frizz, making it much more manageable.

learn how to put your hair up in protective styles. this makes it so much easier to prevent frizz, keep your hair healthy and knot free and also stops you from needing to wash it every time you style it.

buy a hair gel! if you like looking clean and put together using some gel to slick back any flyaways can really make a difference.

fit your hair wash days around your schedule. don’t wash your hair on your busiest, most exhausting day if you can help it, go for the weekends or less busy days (for example i wash mine Wednesdays and Sundays).

know your curl pattern and what products work best for it. figuring out your hair type will help you find creators etc with similar hair type which will help you find more specific product recommendations and tips.

buy a good heat protectant and diffuse your hair if possible. diffusing saves so much time and makes your curls really stand out. if not use a 100% cotton towel or shirt to dry your hair instead to prevent damage and frizz.

buy a good smelling hair perfume or hair spray. i have a lemon scented spray that i love it helps my hair smell clean and fresh.

buy pretty claw clips, hair clips, bows etc any kind of hair accessories. they make your hairstyles stand out and are so cute that even when you just have a basic pony tail in they make it look adorable!

dedicate some more money and time into your hair. for example, get it cut before you go back to school so it looks healthy and good, buy that new hair product you’ve been eying up or a new hair oil. set aside enough time in your daily and weekly routines that you can give it the care and love it needs, but not so much you feel stressed out and unproductive. good luck! i know you will figure out how best to take care of your curls - remember it’s a process. if you do decide to get a straightening treatment just remember to take very good care of your hair health. all my love, m.

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Heyyy can you please write something for Nico x male reader where Nico has seen reader around camp and reader is friendly and always laughing and talking with everyone. And Nico develops a crush on reader and eventually he decides to confess to reader when he sees them in the woods. Fluffy mainly but like a little spicey at the end if u do that stuff? :)

hey there bestie, let's pretend it hasn't been two months. this fic is also for @golden-boy-muda 's request for nico x transmasc reader <3

I couldn't find an idea in my empty ol head for this request but then I was looking for old oil painting wallpapers for my phone and now you have this incredibly sappy 3.2k of art references [I advise you keep another tab open for cross-referencing if you want the fUlL eXpErIeNcE]

Oil on Canvas--- Nico di Angelo x transmasc reader [3.2k] »»————-　★　————-««

Nico definitely isn’t a stalker, he understands boundaries [once Jason explains them to him, of course], but he might have a bit of a staring problem. 

Sometimes he’s just eating gluten free waffles with Hazel in the dining pavilion and ends up watching you shove your siblings around and plait your little sister's hair so it doesn’t get in her face when she goes Pegasus riding.

He spooned some blueberries onto his plate. 

It’s not his fault.

It’s yours, if anything. What is he supposed to do apart from feel like there’s moths beneath his ribcage when you pose, your nose scrunched, up for photos with Drew’s polaroid camera that’s covered with inappropriate stickers? 

Hazel elbowed him meaningfully in the side when he couldn’t help but grin because Holy Hades, a single person shouldn’t be able to look that much like the painting Ophelia [by friedrich heyser, to be specific], just because they wore a green camp shirt and a pearl necklace. 

Maybe it was his fault that he was comparing you to beautiful paintings. 

He scooped the blueberries onto his half eaten waffle and reached for the maple syrup Hazel had finished drowning her breakfast in. 

The Stoll brother’s mortal mum had sent a stack of paintings from art galleries all over the world last Christmas, and they’d let him pick out a few of the older more poetic ones that didn’t have enough blood and guts for their taste. 

Now the oil paintings of lakes and birds and crying angels and… mainly cats, actually, hung around the dark walled Cabin he slept in. 

Your laugh when you threw strawberries at Kayla and Austin while they worked in the infirmary reminded him of Angel [carl von marr, of course] and he felt like Chat a difficult catch [charles van den eycken] when you walked right past him without even glancing back.

So he’d made peace with watching from afar how you would forget daily to put sunscreen on but somehow always remembered to wear this pair of white crocheted gloves that looked like cat paws. 

On a completely irrelevant note, Nico was learning to crochet. 

Hazel made eye contact with him again when he looked from you to her, and he plugged his ears and glared before she started kicking him in the shins and begging him to pluck up the courage to walk over and even just make eye contact. 

Not that he didn’t want to. 

He may have lined up in his catalog of daydreams, this scenario where you both went down to the beach. Any beach, really. You’d collect shells and eat popcorn and grapes and lemonade and squish sand between your toes and pick up crabs with him. 

PROMENADE ON THE BEACH [Charles Atamian, obviously].

There was another scenario where he’d take you to the farmers market. It had the biggest bouquets of flowers, and rows upon rows of fruits and vegetables and incense and beaded jewelry. 

When he was laying in bed underneath the fluffy zebra patterned duvets that Piper forced him to use, mainly because they matched the dark reds of the cushions and browns of the bookshelves and antique lamps in the cabin so well, you were walking down the rows of little stores with him.

You were holding his hand with those soft cat paw gloves and you liked the feel of his rings [he’d read that people liked rings in a book, somewhere] and you’d filled the Studio Ghibli tote bag you had with berries. 

He’d watched most of the movies after he saw your bag. He liked Arriety the best. 

Clarisse stomped past the Hades table, leaving bloody footprints no one asked about, and smacked him in the back of his head. Nico went back to eating his waffles and daydreaming about your smile. 

In the farmers market you would sniff candles and never buy them because Hazel had far too many for all of her spells and the such that he would never run out. And what was Hazel’s was his and what was his was hers, meaning that what was Hazel’s was yours. 

Because Nico would give everything he owned, even his favorite jacket, for you to look his way. 

And he would buy you flowers, whichever were your favorite. 

Maybe the ones from the painting Hazel forced him to take because ‘you can’t just not hang a painting that literally is you, Neeks’. 

Italian Girl with Flowers. Joaquin Sorolla. 1886. 

He didn’t see the resemblance.

But it didn’t really matter, because he’d get to watch you looking at all the cool things for sale and then he’d take you to the best gelato he’d found so far [he was making a list] or just use the shadows, and take you to a proper gelato shop. Whatever you wanted to do, really.

Nico blinked. He huffed, mainly at himself, and stabbed his waffle. It fell apart on the fork.

“Why’re you angry?”

He looked up from his plate, to Hazel. She was sitting opposite him with a mustache made of orange juice. “...I’m not.”

“You’re not supposed to be pushing down your emotions, remember?” she said sternly, and started picking the green bits off a strawberry. She was eating as many berries as she could, since she wasn’t allowed lollies anymore. The perks of braces. 

Nico looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking about the cat glove girl, aren’t you?” she asked with a smirk.

“Cat glove boy, remember?” he muttered, and took a bite of his waffle, wiping squished blueberries off his chin.

Hazel’s golden eyes widened, “Oh yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he said, and was grateful for the excuse to peek your way. You were eating toast. Very pretty-ily. He felt his face heat up.

Hazel perked up, a mischievous grin he didn’t appreciate on her face. “Okay! I’ll go apologize to your boyfriend then-”

Nico stared at her. Why was she like this? She actually went to stand up, and then he yanked her sleeve, pulling her back down to the table. “No! Don’t just… you can’t… stop!”

“You didn’t deny that he’s your boyfriend,” Jason chuckled, sitting down next to Hazel. 

“I hate you all,” Nico said. 

It was torture. 

He felt like Sleepy time potion [Vanessa Stockhard], stuck in the middle of your loveliness, unable to do anything except stare and hope that his face wasn’t too as red as the mushroom he was sitting on. 

In the painting. 

Not in real life. 

Obviously. 

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico stared down at the hat in his lap.

He’d done it. He’d actually finished one of the hundreds of projects he’d started in Piper’s efforts to find him a hobby that wasn’t sitting on the fences of cemeteries or standing in line at Mcdonalds. 

He had lots of other hobbies, he just… couldn’t come up with them when she was arguing with him. 

So they’d gone through writing, painting, records, sleeping, which he excelled in, and then crocheting. None had lasted very long, but he may have had an idea half way through trying to stab Piper with the crocheting stick.

And now he had a white bucket hat with cat ears.

He threw it to the end of his bed, and hid underneath his duvet. Fuck. 

Repose. Malcolm Liepke. 1953. 

What on Olympus was he supposed to do about the way he wanted to hold you so badly he felt like throwing up and tearing his hair out?

He lay underneath in the pocket of stuffy darkness for a moment, before sitting up, untangling his blankets and teddies from him, and then standing. He may have just had the greatest idea anyone had ever thought of before.

Hazel was still in the shower, singing, most likely, so he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack that was actually just a skeleton, and then stomped out of his cabin, the stupid hat in his fist.

His heart was beating wildly. Stupid heart. 

The Wedding Dress. Fred Ellwell. 1911.

He rubbed his face and groaned at the sky. The stars were just peeking out, but it was still pink and yellow, and the sun hadn’t dipped yet. It was hidden by the trees he was trudging through, though. 

Fuck.

His chest was hurting. 

Nico scrunched up the stupid perfect crocheted hat that just had to stupidly perfectly match your stupid perfect cat gloves because Nico was stupidly perfectly obsessed with you. 

You, who was stupidly perfect.

Fuck. 

Psyche Weeping. Kinuko Y Craft. 1995.

He trod on twigs that broke underneath his boots and weaved through the tree’s that slowly became more and more laden with hanging pendants and wind chimes and ruins carved into the bark.

He stepped over a thin stream. A frog croaked at him like it was dying. As if it could ever feel like it was dying. As if it could ever fall in love.

Nico groaned at the sky again. 

“Just let it all out.”

He turned, and glared. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, actually,” Lou Ellen said, raising a purple eyebrow. It matched the undersides of her curly hair. She pointed to the cabin concealed in shadows and moss and stones behind her. “This is my house. And you are yelling very loudly.”

“I’m not yelling,” Nico argued. “I’m groaning.”

She stared at him for a second. She rolled her eyes. “Just come in, what do you need?”

“I need a spell. Or a charm. Or hex,” Nico said, following her through the wooden double doors. A wind chime tinkled even though the air was still. There were a few bunks lined up against the wall to one side. “Or a magic thing. I don’t care which one.” 

The rest of the cabin was filled with small coffin shaped pet beds and empty pink soda cans and voodoo dolls hanging from the roof and rugs with cats wearing strawberry hats on the fluffy material and misty crystal balls. 

Lou Ellen lent back on a desk stacked high with papers and paperweights that were actually jars filled with things. “Okay. I have three rules. I don’t kill people, and I don’t make people fall in love.”

“...And?”

“I’ll break both if it’ll be fun?”

Nico frowned. “No. Aren’t you supposed to say you won’t bring people back from the dead? That’s always the third rule.”

She squinted at him. “Uh…no. I send those people to you.” 

Nico squinted back at her, sticking his tongue out. He fiddled with the stupid perfect hat and looked around. There was just more creepy things and stuffed animals. “Whatever. I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I need you to… like,” Nico started. He sighed. He looked away. 

This was awful. 

He was not about to admit that he might be in love, even if it was to reverse the feelings in the first place with whatever heart ripping out brain altering magic was necessary. 

The Apollo cabin would find out through the witch in less than thirty seconds. He would never live it down. 

Nico groaned again. “Oh for fucks sake, do you need me to fic your voicebox or something?” Lou Ellen hissed. 

Nico glared at her. He groaned again, and then whirled around and stomped out of the weird mossy mushroom cabin. “Nevermind!”

“Fine! Have it your way!...weird little emo.”

Nico glared at the frog croaking at him, and kept walking through the forest. 

He followed the little stream through the woods until he could hear wind chimes or Taylor Swift’s latest album anymore. 

The little stream widened into a proper stream, filled with a lot more frogs. Why were there so many frogs? He nearly stood on a green one leaping across the path. Stupid frog.

Nico stuffed his hands into his pockets, along with the hat. He was tempted to just toss it into the river. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with all of the silly feelings that felt like the biggest things in the world to him and his silly head full of thoughts about your lips.

Maybe the frogs could use the hat as a home.

“Here froggie… Come here… I said, come here... No I am not taking a tone with you!” 

Nico froze. 

Fuck. He took a deep breath, probably too loudly. He glanced to the side. 

Of course you were catching frogs, knee deep in a river.

You looked over, making eye contact, and Nico realized the moths underneath his ribcage were turning into bats. You squinted at him, hands on your hips, while water swirled around and leaves drifted from the trees above. A bucket was wedged between two rocks next to you.

A frog jumped out of it and landed near your leg, on a lillypad. 

“Look Albert,” you said, turning to the frog. “It’s a little Victorian ghost.”

“...I’m Italian,” Nico said quietly. He stared at you. He couldn’t help it. Wow. Fuck. Leo was right. He really was pathetic. “And I’m not a ghost.”

“Okay, Victorian ghost.” 

Nico stared at you. Fuck.

After that exchange, he should be able to hate you. Right? Right. He now resented you, and the moths turned bats would stop clawing at his chest and he would go back to having a normal life. 

Right?

Wrong.

You squinted at Nico, and then slowly turned to Albert. “I think the cute Victorian ghost is having a stroke.”

Nico blinked once, gulped, and then marched forward through the cold water and frogs, his shoes squelching loudly. Gods. This was so embarrassing. But you thought he was cute, even if you also thought he was a dead english boy, so he would be content with dying from embarrassment. 

He shoved the stupid perfect hat into your stupid perfect hands.

And then left in about 0.3 seconds. 

»»————-　★　————-««

You stared down at your pancakes. Why were they so gray looking? Had someone poisoned them? You figured that it would be a pretty good way to die, and tipped extra maple syrup onto them before you dug in. 

To counterbalance the poison, of course.

You scratched at the mosquito bite underneath the strap of your binder. It had flowers embroidered into it. Your binder. Not the mosquito bite.

One of your siblings across from you kicked at your shin, probably on purpose, but you continued to eat your odd tasting pancakes and picked blueberry grit off your white cat paw gloves. They were your favorite gloves. 

They also matched your new hat. The new hat that the cute Victorian but actually Italian ghost boy had given you before he teleported away with whatever dark magic he had stored in all that goth-ness.

You tossed a blueberry at Clarisse when she walked past and tried to bash you over the head. 

She wasn’t allowed to ruin your new hat.

You turned to see her flicking the blueberry over at someone else, and your eyes flicked past that too. Now way. You stood up, but you’d lost sight of the mess of dark hair when the Hermes cabin barrelled past.

You clambered onto your seat and stood up there. “Oi! Victorian ghost hat boy!”

The dining pavilion went quiet pretty quickly, and everyone turned to the cute guy with a skeleton hoodie and wide eyes. He pointed at himself when you pointed at him, and then went pink. 

Clarisse stuck her arm out so you didn’t faceplant when you jumped down from your seat, and you held onto your new hat as you traipsed across the cracked floor. 

You’d never figured out how that crack had got there. But there were bigger mysteries. 

Like this cute goth. 

His face just pinker when you grabbed his sleeve and tried to tug him out of the entire camp’s curious eyes. A dark skinned girl with a lot of butterfly clips and a Steven Universe t-shirt sent a thumbs up in your direction. 

It was only when you were standing by the low burning fire pit in a patch of daisies did you realize you hadn’t really planned far enough ahead. 

You took off the cat-ear hat and looked down at it. “...Uhm…”

“Sorry,” the goth said quickly, and when you made eye contact he looked away even quicker. “It’s creepy. Boundaries and stuff, I just… saw your gloves.” 

“It’s not creepy,” you argued, putting the hat back on with a grin. He was really cute when he blushed. “I mean, I don’t even know your name, and I have no idea who you are but your eyeliner is really really great and… Holy Hades if you smile like that again can I… please kiss you?”

The goth with no name stared at you, and then nodded about ten times too many. “Yes please. But, uh.. If you’re gonna kiss me, please, maybe don’t get my dad involved.”

“...Wut?”

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico could feel his cheeks growing hotter.

Not because of the sun, specifically, but it was hot and bright in the woods. He’d worn sunscreen though. And forced you to put it on too, once he’d found watermelon scented sunscreen, because you refused to smell gross no matter how sunburnt you would get anyways. 

His face was hot and red because of you. 

You, who was stupidly perfect and also possibly kind of Nico’s stupidly perfect boyfriend. 

“Psst, Victorian ghost boy,” you said with a sing-song voice, quietly, and waved your hand in front of his eyes with your pink, blue, and white painted nails. He blinked. You smiled. “You zoned out again.”

“Sorry,” Nico said, and pulled a daisy out of the ground. He handed it over. “I was thinking about you.”

He hadn’t realized the effect that saying that would have on you, but it was worth it when you opened and closed your mouth like one of the frogs you kept as pets. 

“I.. well, what were you thinking about?”

Nico had played his cards right. He smirked, and you shuffled forwards on the checked picnic blanket Piper had stolen from Drew, who’d probably nicked it from poor unsuspecting Demeter or Iris kid. You knocked over the basket of strawberries too, and then took your bucket hat off and stuffed it in your lap with a grin.

He tilted his head down. You were both following a very well rehearsed script. “...Kissing you?”

You launched yourself forwards then with a laugh, your cat-paw gloved hands landing on either side of his waist and probably squishing some of those strawberries at the same time. 

The sun reflected in your eyes and Nico held the sides of your face as he pressed his lips to yours. 

You kissed back, and once you both stopped smiling widely, you could kiss back. 

Properly. 

He scratched his fingernails, the ones you’d painted rainbow that afternoon after catching more frogs and complaining about sunscreen, along your jaw when you bit down on his bottom lip.

Not as a complaint, certainly not, and you knew that too because you just sat back on your knees between Nico’s lap and tilted your head to fit deeper against Nico’s bruised lips. 

The ones that hadn’t had a single day off since you jumped up in the middle of breakfast with your gluten free waffles you hadn’t realized were gluten free until he had explained it to you later. 

It was intensely crazily unbearably romantic but it also meant whatever cold one of you managed to catch, the other would come down with only minutes later. 

And Nico felt like that smug little cat from Julie Manet’s Auguste Renoir.  

»»————-　★　————-««