#smiliers

[nileyxlove]

Wrecking Ball 08.25.13

[lovedecoded]

bless his heart. he doesn't have a clue in the world

[ryllen]

same feeling

[larsnicklas]

[231229 CZE VS. USA] ryan leonard (wsh) hits will smith (sjs) right on the tape and smith makes no mistake as he ties up the game for the americans

[sjwcringecompilation]

Fit for today

[chemicahs]

Sometimes I have such a weird burst of happiness and love for no reason even if I’m not in that great of a mood

[maddestmewmew]

artist who starts shaking and growling and gnashing their teeth and lashing their tail drawing their ocs happy and not going thru tragedy

[squirrelchimez]

Some doodles of the best ever

[the-smiley-blue-axolotl]

*smiley's head fins flutter in response*

[echidnana]

post canon knives and livio is something that can be so personal

[jnkgrnde]

— dating hc’s, clarisse la rue, pjo

summary — dating hc’s w pookie

pairings — clarisse la rue x black!fem!reader (daughter of apollo)

authors note — some of this is inspired by a clarisse fanfic i read the other day w a child of apollo reader ☝🏾

⭑ alr first things first y’all r the definition of black cat gf + golden retriever gf WALK W ME!

⭑ like when u first got to camp clarisse was v.. she thought u were different but in a good way.

⭑ she expected u to act like how an apollo kid would except u were like 5x sunshinier and smilier.

⭑ when u decided to hang out w her more often after u arrived people were starting to question things

⭑ like how clarisse wasn’t throwing you in the lake

⭑ the only reason she hadn’t done that yet was because she was starting to like having you around, even if she didn’t act like it

⭑ you’d talk to her about your day, spar w her, etc etc

⭑ that was up until the night you realized you liked her more than friends

⭑ you were pacing around your cabin, biting your nails anxiously; when you got to camp, you decided to read about your father, and that included all of his tragedies family wise and love wise.

⭑ you didn’t want to continue that tradition, so you came down to the decision of avoiding clarisse entirely.

⭑ it started becoming noticeable after about two or three days.

⭑ clarisse was more irritable, and people noticed you weren’t around her as much. a lot of the time you’d write in your journal about it.

⭑ whenever you were at the archery range, you’d up and leave as soon as you saw clarisse.

⭑ she wasn’t happy about this

⭑ this had been going on for what felt like forever; clarisse trying to subtly look for you, and whenever she found you you always managed to leave as soon as she was approaching.

⭑ she would’ve never admitted this to anybody, but she missed you. how you would talk non stop about your day and always ask how hers was going. she missed the way you would get shy whenever she called you sunshine because of your descent.

⭑ she ended up having enough when she called out for you at the archery range and you blatantly ignored her, which is how you two got where you are right now

“y/n!”

you cursed to yourself as you started walking the opposite direction, not even bothering to put your bow down.

she didn’t let you go this time, running up to you to turn you around. you had a slight look of anger and fear on your face, and it hurt clarisse to see you look at her like everyone else does.

“why are you avoiding me?” you avoided her eyes. you weren’t really prepared for what would’ve happened when or if she decided to approach you. “is there something you wanted to tell me? any explanation? at all?” she persisted. “i just- it’s hard to talk about, clarisse.” clarisse frowned. you almost never used her full name. “it’s just me, sunshine. just you and me.”

you breathed deep to calm your aching heart. “i like you.”

clarisse stood dumbfounded. “what?” “i have a crush on you, and i was scared to tell you because of my dad and his history with love. i didn’t want to possibly get you killed all because i loved you.” clarisse looked at you for a moment then put her lips with yours.

her hand found your waist as you gripped her forearm. why and since when was she a good kisser? it was getting heated so you pulled away. “why did you do that?” you asked her breathlessly. “we have more of a chance of dying solely because we’re demigods. if i have to die early, i’d rather die knowing me and you were together through everything.” you nodded. “okay.” you whispered out.

“okay?” she repeated. she looked at you with so much love held in her eyes. “okay.” you started grinning.

⭑ let me wrap this up before it gets too long lmao

⭑ to reiterate what i said earlier, yall are the definition of black cat gf + golden retriever gf

⭑ whether its in capture the flag or just strolling around the campgrounds, clarisse is very protective of you

⭑ i’d like to believe she would steal some of ur lotion n stuff cs u got GOOD stuff don’t ask me how i know

⭑ you’d also help eachother out w ur hair like braiding them for games etc etc

⭑ she loved ur voice btw. like u had a naturally pretty voice bc of ur dad, so she’d love to hear u talk. bonus points if ur one of those ppl who sing peoples names instead of js saying them normally

⭑ it took her a minute to get used to it, but atp she does not care about pda; she’s showing u off whether u like it or not

⭑ okay thats it clarisse is my girlfriend #confirmed

[lovings4turn]

hey can u do alex albon sending u selfies while ur apart

i love this prompt for alex omgosh !!! thanks sm for sending it in lovely — tried somethin a little different n i’m not sure how i feel about it but i hope you like it !!!

taking off now baby!

wish u were here to talk my ear off while im trying to sleep:/

y/n 🥰

alexander albon that better not be my sleeping mask…

albono ❣️

in my defence i needed it more

plane bad sleep hard:(

y/n 🥰

YOU’RE LITERALLY ON A JET RN ???

albono ❣️

point still stands

y/n 🥰

…

ur so lucky ur cute

imy already babe have a safe flight ☹️🫶

albono ❣️

what six hours of good sleep does to a man

ready to cook in australia😮‍💨

y/n 🥰

you’re gonna do great babe

i’ll be cheering you on from the living room !!!

try to smuggle a quokka back in ur suitcase for me 🥰

albono ❣️

i’ve been staring at the floor for the past thirty minutes

this is what the bugs down there are seeing

y/n 🥰

aren’t you supposed to be in media???

albono ❣️

i have five minutes

and i need my dose of you before i go out there

apparently it makes me smilier

y/n 🥰

oh boooo cheesy🍅🍅🍅

(kidding i’m blushing 🤭🤭)

albono ❣️

don’t be fooled by the smile masking the sheer terror in my eyes i couldn’t let him get suspicious

i think george forgot he isn’t in an f1 car rn and is just driving us back to the hotel

y/n 🥰

five second penalty for driver 63 incoming 😔

least you look cute 🫶 fear looks good on you

albono ❣️

…

thanks?🤨

y/n 🥰

tell george i want my boyfriend to remain in one piece please

flying back will be a lot harder for you if not and i can’t deal w not seeing you for even longer:(

albono ❣️

“only because y/n asked nicely” — george

y/n 🥰

i always knew i was the better half <3

[happiest-hotch]

Father's Day

for the biggest dilf out there <3

Summary: Father's Day morning at the Hotchner household.

Word Count: 1.8k

As almost every morning for the past eight months started, you wake up to baby cries from Noah. Lately, it's through the baby monitor, the other camera set up in the nursery down the hall, but prior to that, it was a bassinet in the master bedroom, and the journey to soothe your crying baby was shorter.

At this point, it's reflexive to haul yourself out of bed when that special alarm rings, just like how it's natural for you to respond when you hear him cry.

Aaron stretches out and places a large hand on your thigh to stop you from getting up, but his head still rests against the white pillows, jet-black hair tousled.

"I'll get him." He says, mostly still asleep. He hasn't even opened his eyes.

"Don't worry." You assure him, voice thick with sleep. "Sleep in a little." You instruct him, squeezing his hand as you get out of bed and straighten the bedding. "It's Father's Day, after all."

He doesn't protest, just lets his hand drop on the comforter where you would usually lay.

You slip off into the hall, stepping through the quiet house. It's rarely like that nowadays, and you love the noise and chaos with your whole heart.

You hear the crying when you open the door to Noah's room, but it quietens when he recognizes you. He's the cutest thing you've ever seen, holding onto the crib bars to support his weight with wet tears on his cheeks. He looks most similar to the baby photos you've seen of Jack which is cute since you didn't know Jack until he was five. Adding to the list of adorable things about him, Noah's perfected the Hotchner stare when he gets grumpy.

"Good morning, sweet baby." You coo, picking him up and resting him on your hip so you can hug him. He looks at you with eyes identical to Aaron's, a rich brown.

Noah gurgles a response, grasping at your hair with his chubby fingers. It amazes you, how he's learning to communicate.

"Today is Father's Day." You tell him. Narrating your day has become common as you attempt to broaden his vocabulary. "So, we get to celebrate daddy." He's a while away from speaking, but he definitely understands who Daddy is and he giggles in the cutest way. "And he can't tell us it's too much. He probably will, but today, we don't have to listen."

After you take him out of his sleep sack and change him, like has become routine, you make your way to the kitchen with him.

"Are you hungry?" You ask rhetorically, seating him in his highchair. "I bet you are. Those bedtime bottles don't keep you full all day as well as all night, but Mommy loves that you're not waking up at night." He babbles back at you with the most adorable smile. "So, what do you think? Oatmeal sound good? Then some eggs with Jack and Daddy?"

You do what you promise, making him breakfast while he sits there smiling. You've never known a smilier baby than he is. While the oatmeal cooks, you get started beating some eggs to make breakfast for your other favorite people.

With cooked oatmeal, you put the bacon in a pan and leave it to cook so you can feed Noah.

"Here, sweet boy." You coo, squatting down and holding out a thick, plastic spoon of cooled oatmeal. "I bet you're growing and that's why you're so hungry. We're going to have to start buying you one-year-old clothes soon." You joke. He's a good eater like he's a good sleeper, easy as well as adorable, and he swallows his breakfast down.

The bacon starts sizzling in the background, and you leave the spoon on the tray, hoping he'll feed himself, while you get started on the eggs and flipping the bacon.

Noah isn't with the plan, and his tears start pretty quickly, accompanied by screams that could threaten to wake the house. He throws the spoon you were using to feed him on the floor carelessly.

"Sweetie, it's okay." You comfort him from the kitchen, but his cheeks are turning red pretty quickly, and you can't rush over to feed him without burning breakfast. It feels like an impossible juggle some days.

Just as the situation threatens to get worse, Aaron walks into the room. "Uh oh, someone's grumpy this morning." He jokes, walking to the cutlery drawer to get him a new spoon.

"I can do it." You jump in, taking the spoon from him while making sure not to burn the eggs.

"It's alright, baby." He assures you. "I'll feed him, you focus on breakfast. It smells delicious, by the way, thank you." As always, he's your perfect, well-mannered husband.

On any other day, you'd be thankful he's there and not somewhere around the country. "But it's Father's Day." You remind him in a whiney tone. "Let me do it. You just-"

Aaron squeezes your hip as he walks past. "Not happening." He says with tenderness. "I don't want you being a married single mom just because it's a random Sunday in June." He squats in front of the highchair where you were before, soothing Noah by running his hand through his soft hair before offering him some food. It does make you feel better when his crying ceases, and it's adorable when his face lights up as he recognizes his dad. "Hey, bubba, no more tears." He coos before turning back to finish what he was saying to you. "And I'm not always here, so I'm definitely going to help out when I am."

"Today's not a day for you to criticize yourself." You remind him, smiling softly. He's so attractive when he's most domestic, dad-like and husband-like. "Especially about being a dad, which, I'll be the first one to say today, you're amazing at."

He chuckles lightly, focusing his attention between feeding Noah and lovingly gazing at you. "Thank you." He tells you. "Not just for that, but for always."

You nod, always grateful you're the person who gets to compliment him endlessly.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Aaron asks in an enticing tone, turning back to look at you with a shy grin.

"Sure." You say, smiling over at him.

"I watch you on the baby monitor sometimes." He admits sheepishly, the collected facade of his slipping like it does when he's being tender. Your cheeks heat slightly at his confession. "And what you say is so sweet. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

Breakfast cooked, you walk over and place your hand on his shoulder. "You deserve it. You hungry?"

He doesn't get out a reply before Jack comes running into the room excitedly, throwing his arms around his dad's neck, so Aaron can hold him to his side.

Noah recognizes him and reaches out for his brother with a grin, breakfast- and crying- forgotten about.

"Good morning! Happy Father's Day." Jack cheers.

"Thanks, buddy," Aaron replies, sweeping his hair out of the way to kiss his forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too," Jack says. He reaches for Aaron's hand that's holding the spoon. "Can I do it?" Watching them interact is something you deeply enjoy, and the responsibility of feeding his brother is a duty Jack takes seriously.

Aaron nods, handing it over and letting Jack feed his brother as he makes his way over to you. He holds your waist, kissing you softly before pulling back and leaving his face an inch from yours. "Hi." He whispers.

"Hi." You say back, leaning up to kiss him once before wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him while you watch the boys.

It's your happy place. Still and full of love.

"Breakfast?" Aaron asks because although he doesn't want to stop feeling your warm body against his, the food is getting cold.

You rest your head on his chest, looking at Jack and Noah. "Are you hungry Jack?"

He looks at you with wide eyes. "Starving." He exaggerates the word.

"Bacon and eggs?" You offer, although it's already made and he won't turn it down.

"Please, please!" He replies excitedly, leaving Noah's food on the highchair. "But I have to get something." He remembers before racing off out of the kitchen.

You frown, looking as confused as Aaron. You pull apart, you to serve breakfast, and Aaron to tempt Noah with some more oatmeal, but it seems he heard what you offered his brother and no longer wants what you made him. Thankfully, he's much more willing to feed himself eggs and picks some up as soon as you set down his plate.

Jack comes back when the plates are on the table, taking his seat with a sly smile and his hands behind his back.

"What do you have?" Aaron asks with a soft smile at Jack's animated expression.

"This," Jack reveals a card, handing it over to his dad.

The words on the front are definitely his handwriting, reading Happy Father's Day in messy, lopsided black letters. There's a stick figure family at the bottom, and Aaron's wearing a cape reminiscent of a superhero.

"Wow, this is amazing." Aaron compliments him, tears in his eyes at the thoughtful card. "You did this?"

Jack nods before making Aaron open the card and pointing at a paint mark on the bottom. "But Noah did this." He explains. "He can't hold a pen, though, so I had to put the paint on his finger and stamp it for him."

Aaron's face softens even more, if possible. "Thank you. This is the best gift I've gotten, aside from you and Noah." He looks at you, making sure you know he's grateful you made him a dad again.

"What's the best part about being a father?" Jack asks randomly.

Aaron pauses, his mind filled with memories and emotions. "The best part." He starts, voice thick with emotion. "Getting to raise you and Noah, and watching you grow up and become a really awesome, kind, intelligent, and funny person. And being there for you no matter what."

"I like you being my dad," Jack tells him.

"I like being your dad too," Aaron replies, squeezing his hand. You can see the tears in his eyes, but it's too early for tears.

"And Noah's?" Jack asks, looking at his little brother.

Aaron nods, looking at his youngest and then at you. "Of course, Noah too."

It might just be a random Sunday in June, but Father's Day serves as a reminder of his privilege of being a dad, the unconditional love he has for them, and how much he appreciates having you by his side. Aaron Hotchner just loves being a dad.

[twigstick9]

(I noticed that the camera angle in my last few drawings wasn’t that dynamic so I tried to fix it here)

Yay more smiliers

[dontopenfairies]

“Hey, come on, let’s go play the arcade games by the bar!” shouts one of our friends.

“Ohh, I wanna go,” my boyfriend says, starting to rise and then looking over at me. I’m still talking to my best friend at our table. “Is it okay if I leave for a second?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, sweetheart,” I say, brushing my hand down his arm as he stands up and follows our friends to the other room. “We’re just going to keep talking over here.”

“Okay! Be right back!”

Around half an hour later, everyone comes trooping back, looking a little dopier and smilier.

“Oof,” I say, involuntarily, as my boyfriend plows into me and wraps his arms around me, sliding into the booth next to where I’m sitting. I can smell sweet, warm alcohol on him.

“Hi,” he says, looking at me with glassy eyes.

“You’re drunk!” I say, pushing him away playfully.

“He had a couple shots,” explains one of our friends. “And he finished Maria’s vodka cherry for her.”

“Ohh,” I say, wrapping my arm around his shoulder. “Is that so? Maybe we should get a ride home soon.”

But someone wants to sing karaoke, and then he wants to show me the pinball machines, and there’s another round of shots…and, finally, the bar is closed and we are outside in the dark parking lot waiting for our Uber.

“I have to go pee,” he says to me quietly.

“Okay,” I say. “Do you want to go find somewhere secluded to go, or…” Just at that moment, the Uber pulls up in front of us.

“That’s okay. I can hold it until we get home.”

“Are you sure? It’s going to be about 10 minutes.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I can hold it.”

He doesn’t complain the whole way home, he just keeps giggling and nestling his face against my neck. We finally get dropped off in front of the house. As he stands up, I hear him wince. “Oh fuck. I forgot I have to pee. Oww…” He hurries up the front walkway to the porch and I follow him.

“Let me get the door,” I say, knowing he’ll just fumble trying to unlock it. I shake my keys out of my purse. He’s twisting the hem of his shirt between his hands and squeezing his thighs together. I unlock the door and pull it open. Inside, I flip on the light and drop my keys in the dish on the table by the door and slip off my shoes, bracing myself with a hand on the wall. “Aren’t you going to go to the bathroom?” I ask, turning to look over my shoulder.

“…Oops.” He’s standing completely still in front of the door, hands clutching his crotch. A big wet patch is forming across his pants.

“Ohh, sweetheart. Come on.” I gently guide his hands away and hold them tight, ignoring that they’re a little damp, as I walk backwards, leading him to the bathroom.

“I’m not finished,” he mumbles as I start to unbutton his fly.

“Oh,” I say, stepping back. “Here, why don’t you just sit down on the toilet…um, are you okay?” He looks very pale.

He suddenly burps loudly and claps a hand to his mouth. “I’m going to throw up,” he says, eyes wide with fear.

“Oh, oh, baby,” I say, quickly lifting the lid and seat of the toilet. “Crouch down. You’re okay.” He chokes and a thin stream of foamy, white vomit slips out of his mouth into the toilet bowl. At the same time, he starts to pee again and I can hear it dripping on the floor. One hand braces him on the rim of the toilet bowl and the other is between his legs. “You had way too much to drink,” I say, wiping his slick hair off his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you don’t like it when people throw up.” I can see his stomach heave and he throws up a little more, then sits back on his ankles.

“Are you all done?”

“Yeah,” he says, “that was it.” He wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “Oh, sorry. That’s gross.” He sets his hand down on the floor and looks up at me, so sad and pathetic.

“Okay, stand up, sweetheart,” I say, guiding him to his feet. The pee has soaked long streaks on his pants all the way down to his ankles. I close the toilet lid and flush it, and then I lead him over to the sink and wrap my arms around him from behind so I can wash both of our hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay, honey,” I say, rubbing soap onto the backs of his hands. “I’m here.”

“I didn’t mean to throw up,” he says.

“I know, baby. Just let me get the pee and throw-up off your hands.” I turn on the tap and rub the soap off under the water, turning his hands over to make sure I’m rinsing everywhere. “Then you can rinse your mouth out and I can take off your pants and get you in PJs. And then we’re going to brush our teeth and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he says, and I let him lean down to get water right out of the tap. He starts to gulp it down.

“Careful,” I say, rubbing his back. “Is that a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I feel okay.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve again.

“I need to get your face, too,” I say, reaching for a washcloth. I hold onto his cheek and gently rub the wet cloth over his face, first over his eyes and forehead and then his mouth and chin. He keeps his eyes closed. “Does that feel good?”

“Mm,” he murmurs. I undo his fly and gently coax his pants down. He’s about 50% hard under his briefs. “I’m sorry,” he says again, now sounding more ashamed.

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s really okay, honey.”

“First I wet the bed the other week. And now I peed my p-pants…” Oh no. He’s starting to cry again. “And I threw up…I never throw up from drinking…”

“Oh, sweetheart. Oh, baby.” I wrap my arms around him and he cries into my shoulder. “It’s okay. It happens, honey. It’s okay.” I disentangle myself and squeeze both his hands. “You’re going to stay right here and I’m coming back with PJs for you. And tomorrow morning we’ll take a long, warm shower. You’re okay.”

“Okay,” he says, and I leave him, standing half-naked and looking a little lost.

I come back and set his pajamas on the counter. I help him pull his shirt off over his head and then get another washcloth. “Let’s just wipe you down really quick for now, okay? I can tell you’re tired.” For some reason hearing this makes him tear up again. I peel off his briefs and add them to the pile of dirty, wet clothes under the sink. Then I gently wipe off his penis, his balls, between his thighs, and his butt. His dick is slowly twitching to a full erection.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I d-don’t know why I’m getting hard.”

“I’m touching you,” I say. “It’s going to happen.” I’ll ignore, just for now, the fact that he’s been hard this whole time, ever since he had his accident. I dab him all dry with a clean towel and help him step into new underwear and his pajama pants, and pull his night tshirt over his head. “Do you need to wash your face again?” I ask. He nods and splashes himself with water. I wash my face, too, and then I brush my teeth and his. I don’t want him to gag himself with the toothbrush and while he seems better, he still doesn’t have quite the coordination he does when sober.

“Come on, bedtime,” I say, leading him out of the bathroom. “Let’s climb under the covers.” I crawl in first and open my arms so he can slink in and cuddle up to me.

I hold his warm body in silence until he says, “I don’t know why that turned me on so much.”

“You like being taken care of. It’s okay.” I kiss his head. It’s a little smelly. He definitely needs a thorough shower tomorrow morning.

“It is?” he asks in a small voice.

“Yes, it’s really okay. If you need to throw up again, or if you need help going pee, just wake me up, okay, sweetheart?” He hums. “Can I hear you say okay, baby?”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll tell you.” Then he gets quiet again. “What happens if I wet the bed again?” he asks.

“Then maybe it’ll be time to think about having you wear pull-ups to bed, or something. Lots of grown-ups have to do it.”

“Mm,” he says in acknowledgment.

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” I say. “It won’t be the end of the world. It just means I get to take care of you extra good.”

“Mmm…” he says. “I like how that sounds.”

And then his breathing turns deep and even, and I know he’s asleep.

[sherlocks-freebitch]

Absolutely love the way our girl is suddenly so much lighter, and smilier, and more herself after having the least chilled hangout ever with Anakin "you look old" Skywalker. She suddenly seems years younger without the weight of the past on her.