#i think i'll paint my nails this color next

[virgochalet]

[hydrobunny]

breakup songs

tags: fluff! (I promise), established relationship, taylor swift songs

"cause i was there when you said forever and always...you didn't mean it baby," you sang passionately with the car's radio. "i don't think-"

the music stopped suddenly. "i don't like this song," sae itoshi grumbled. "pick something else."

you frowned, turning in your seat to face your long term boyfriend. like a good driver, he kept his eyes on the road, expression passive.

"but i like it," you huffed. "and you said i get aux privileges for the next week."

bright teal eyes flicked over you for a moment. "no."

your jaw dropped. "sae! at least tell me why."

"just pick a new song, y/n." his fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the steering wheel. "or i'll do it for you."

pouting, you opened your spotify. "stupid football players and their stupid egos. so used to getting everything they want," you mumbled.

sae ignored your complaints.

"you better like this one."

for the nth time that day, taylor swift's oh so familiar voices leaked through from the high quality speakers all around the car:

"once upon a time, a few mistakes ago-"

sae's hand jumped up to hit the power button. "we're going in silence."

you sputtered nonsensically. "it's another hour until our destination! what's wrong with my music?"

he opened his mouth and closed it. as you fired at him, sae itoshi shrugged silently.

you leaned back into the leather seats, crossing your arms. you couldn't understand why sae was being so shifty. it's not like he had ever minded your music choices before.

in fact, the pro football player had always let you belt out any song you wished, even joining in with enough pleading. it was only in the past week or so that he'd been more annoyed.

frowning, you chewed on your lip nervously. this wasn't a good sign, was it? maybe sae had finally gotten sick of you- found someone better.

you saw him glance at you again. avoiding any eye contact, you turned your gaze toward your hands.

god, when was the last time you had gotten your nails done? your previous polish - a reddish color that matched sae's hair - was chipping from all sides already. you almost frantically picked at the peeling paint.

"y/n," sae's voice was steady. "leave your nails alone."

you jumped, head snapping towards him. "huh?"

he raised one eyebrow, pointedly staring at your hands.

you reddened. "it's not a big deal- keep your eyes on the road. pretend i'm not here or something."

with a narrowing of his eyes, sae turned back to the road.

it was another three miles before you heard him sigh.

"they're breakup songs," sae muttered quietly.

"what?"

the light in front of them flashed red. with another sigh, sae turned his upper body toward you.

"your music. they're always breakup songs now. that's why i don't like them."

you gaped at him, feeling way too much like a goldfish. "what?"

he stared at you. anyone would have assumed he was as indifferent as ever, but you could see that hint of red climbing up his neck.

sae itoshi was embarrassed.

"you're kidding!" you blurted, grinning like a maniac.

he immediately turned his attention back towards the road, but even he couldn't hide the twitch of his lips.

"you're sad because i sing breakup songs?" you managed out past your laughs. "sae, that's so cute!"

"and now i take it all back," he mumbled.

you leaned towards him suddenly, landing a kiss right onto his cheek. sae cursed, car swerving slightly.

"y/n, what-"

"i love you," you said breathlessly, effectively shutting him up. "and i would never break up with you, no matter what taylor swift says."

he snorted. when he replied, his voice was soft all the same. "i love you too."

"...can i have my music back now?"

sae groaned, but there were no complaints as you eagerly tapped through your phone once again.

"we can leave the christmas lights up till january..."

reblogs & feedback appreciated!!

[honeytonedhottie]

honeys guide to throwing a slumber party⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🛍️

CUTE INVITATIONS ; when throwing a slumber party, you MUST spread the word with style. if ur sending out invitations digitally, make sure to decorate and use cute fonts and colors.

if ur sending out invitations physically (my preference) use cute stickers, ribbons, and pens. cute decorated slumber party invitations are super fun to make and spark excitement to whoever receives them.

some information that u should include on the slumber party invitations include ;

the date of the slumber party

the time when the slumber party begins - the time when the slumber party ends

dresscode (cute pajamas duh)

also just a reminder to NOT give out invitations in front of those who aren't invited cuz thats not hot ✨

PLANNING ; a good slumber party needs a few things one of them being snacks. when planning for snacks, make sure to choose snacks that u and ur guests would like.

choose 3-5 snacks (depending on the amount of ppl attending the slumber party) then use a randomizer to assign snacks to each person, so that the expense is spread out and everyone brings something.

a good slumber party is also coordinated, so make sure to choose and bring supplies for whatever activities that you'll be doing at the slumber party which leads to my next section.

ACTIVITIES ; this is the fun part, choosing what activities to do at a slumber party. i'll list some possible activities that u can do at the slumber party with ways to prepare and coordinate each of them.

watch girly 2000's movies or whatever movies u prefer

some movie recommendations include the bratz movie, mean girls, clueless, legally blonde, 16 wishes and the princess diaries.

sing karaoke songs

fan girl and watch kpop fancams and music videos

i love to watch older gen kpop music videos, some of my favorite groups include AOA, sistar, SUGAR, after school, and KARA.

build a blanket fort

do facemasks and paint each others nails (try nail designs too)

take buzzfeed quizzes and tests

make ice cream sundaes

make a video diary entry together/make tiktoks

have GIRL TALK

girl talk is SO much fun, but rule of thumb with girl talk is whatever u talk about doing girl talk stays between you guys. whether y'all r gossiping or just chatting.

FUN GIRL TALK TOPICS FOR A JUICY CONVERSATION ;

dreams, goals and aspirations that u have

if they're doing well physically and mentally

beauty secrets

SECRETS in general

crushes and who has their affection rn

past experiences/experiences u wanna have

i think that having a slumber party is such a cannon event and all in all just a rly fun and cute way to spend time with ur friends + grow a stronger bond. ✨

[minispidey]

01: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. series masterlist. next part.

01. This Barbie is his new neighbor!

warnings: uses y/n once, get ready for kinda cringey bimbor!reader. over-use of the word like. extremely feminine reader. reference to elle woods. NOT BETA READ.

"Yeah, but like, I totes believe her. I mean she's totes being framed. I wanna help her." as Steven got off of the lift, he sees multiple boxes out in the hallway and hears a woman's voice talking to someone.

You walk out of the flat in front of his to push in the rest of your things. You were wearing something someone moving in shouldn't be wearing: a pink lace top, flared pink pants and cute high heels. You had a purse and everything.

"I need an alibi from her. Like, she can't just like go to jail for something she didn't do. That's a crime itself." you held your phone in between your shoulder and ear "I'm totally bugging. Where's a good manipedi here?"

"Uh, I think there's a salon across from the baker around the corner?" Steven spoke up from behind you.

You turn to face him, blinking twice "I'll call you back. I'll see you at the office." you end your call and smiled at him "Thanks so much. My nails have suffered too much this past week. Oh, we're neighbors!"

"It seems like we are."

"I'm Y/N. It's so nice to meet you." you two shake hands "I'm like, really struggling with these boxes. And I know I'd be like super desperate, but I am, but can you help me, please?" you smiled brightly, even batting your long eyelashes.

"Oh, uh, yes, absolutely." he said, taking a couple of the boxes from the hallway.

You kept kicking some of the boxes in with your pink high heels, clearly impatient and trying to push them all in. Steven halts your actions by picking them up and setting them down inside.

"You gotta uh, carry the boxes inside. They get stuck when you just push them." entering your flat, he placed more boxes down. He could see your walls were already painted a different color: pink. Steven was surprised to see such a bold choice of color, but he could already tell by your outfit what kind of woman you were.

A woman with great fashion-sense.

You were beautiful. Something about you was just so alluring, so hypnotic. He couldn't even believe a beautiful woman like you was talking to him, let alone letting him enter your flat. But he did notice you were a bit of a ditz.

"Do you need any help with anything else?" Steven asked, turning around as he spoke. His ears were slightly red because of the way you looked at him.

"That's all. Thanks so much." you smiled "I just moved here, and like, still adjusting."

"It's not a problem at all. If you need anything, don't be shy. I'm just in front."

"That's so nice of you! Totes, I'd definitely need some help. Oh shoot, I never got your name."

"It's fine. I-It's Steven."

"It's so nice to meet you, Steven."

His eyes shifted to the racks filled with clothes. Pink, to be exact. You were extremely feminine. He spots furs and his brows furrow a bit "Er... uh..."

"They're faux fur. Can't tell the difference anymore." you giggled, wheeling them to a corner with the rest of your clothes.

"Oh. Well, they're very nice." Steven smiled "Are you a model?"

"Gosh, that's such a compliment. No one's ever said that before. But no, just love clothes. How about you? Wait wait! Let me guess..."

Steven found it adorable as you squint your eyes, thinking of what his job is.

"Are you like... a sculptor? No, a painter! Am I close?"

"I work at a gift-shop, actually. A giftshopist." he smiled.

"No way. You have really pretty hands, you could be like a hand model. Or like I said, a painter."

Steven blushed like a mad man "Thank you. No one's ever complimented my hands."

"You're pretty handsome, you know? It's like... gosh you have a nice nose too." the way you complimented him was as if he was a sculpture.

Steven's heart almost stopped when you casually mentioned how handsome he was. You were incredibly blunt about it for someone he had just met.

"Thank you." he said, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. Something about you saying it that make his body feel all warm. It's such a strange and unusual feeling for him.

"No, but like seriously. You are so handsome. It's like driving me a bit cray, you get it, right? Gosh, I sound like a total creep."

Hearing the same thing two times in a row sent him into quite a little flutter. He had never been one to be flirted with and the combination of how direct you were, plus how much you were repeating yourself certainly made him feel something.

"No, it's fine. No, you don't sound like creep, it's totally fine." he looks back up at you "I'm just... I'm not used to... it."

"Used to what? Being called handsome?"

"Yeah." Steven chuckled, the sound escaping his mouth in such a high pitched and nervous way that it sounded almost like a squeak "And uh, being flirted with..."

Your phone suddenly rings, making you two jump up. You take your phone out, looking at the caller ID "So sorry. I gotta take this."

"Oh, no worries." he clears his throat, taking the opportunity to collect his thoughts and calm his racing heart and mind.

"I, uh, I should go now." he says "I'll see you around, luv."

"I'll see you around, Steven." you gave him a smile before answering your phone, pacing back and fourth across your flat.

As Steven enters his flat, his heart calms down but his cheeks were still red. His eyes shifted towards a mirror, a clearly judging Marc staring right back at him.

"So. You like her?"

"Oh come on, Marc. I just met her."

That evening, Steven heard a knock outside his door. His ears were perked up as he approached the door, opening it to find you in your cute animal print night dress and holding a casserole dish "Okay, so like, I got called in to the office earlier and I never got to properly thank you."

"It's not big deal, luv." he blushed "They're just boxes."

"And really heavy ones. You are like, super strong. Plus I finally got my manipedi." you giggled "I made lasagna in the office but I got leftovers, do you wanna split?"

"Uh... actually I'm vegan."

"Oh gosh, I'm like so sorry. That explains the fur thing!"

"Yeah." he nods "It's alright, luv. I don't wear a big ol sign saying I'm vegan."

"Well... I was just hoping we could hangout because you seem like a really nice guy. I mostly bond with food."

"It's alright, uh..." Steven looks behind him, looking if his place was presentable "If you want, you can eat it here while we chat? Maybe a cup of tea? I've stepped inside your flat, might as well welcome you into mine."

"Really? That's so nice of you! I swear, when I get my stove and oven I'll make you something vegan."

"You really don't have to. I assure you, it's alright."

"Don't worry! I can cook."

Ever since that day, Steven is ecstatic to wake up everyday and greet you in the morning as you both went off to work.

Your clothes were always consistent with the pinks and whites, but you always looked professional as you head off to work.

Steven began to guess what your profession was. You said you weren't a model, perhaps a designer? A professor?

He snapped out of his thoughts when you placed a plate of fried tofu with some sauce over it and spring onions.

"Stevie, do you know where I could like, donate books? Mine are sooo expensive but someone might want to use them." you asked as you cleaned up your countertop.

"Yeah, why?"

"Okay so like, Jean, he's like a newbie, he totally bugged me. Brags that he loves to donate his stuff. He once donated a canoe. He says like he was a hoarder back then. I thought to myself, am I hoarding?" you spin, facing Steven "I totally am! I have books I won't need anymore and I don't have bookshelves anyways."

"I have spots in my bookcase. Maybe I could take them off your hands?" Steven looks up at you with a smile "I don't mind. They have sentimental value?"

"Very. Plus, they were soooo expensive I swear. I could've bought like fifteen more pairs of heels if I hadn't bought them. Or maybe just a pair of Choos."

"What kind of books are they exactly?"

"Law."

"Law?"

"Law." you clear your throat, lifting your arm and bending your wrist in a dramatic way "I'm a lawyer, obvi."

Steven was slightly taken aback by the news. He certainly wouldn't have guessed that right "You're a-a lawyer? Oh, wow, that's super impressive. Wait, how are you dressed the way you are if you're a lawyer? Don't they make you wear suits and stuff?"

"Duhh, I wear pink ones! You see me wear them to work every morning." you smiled "I have a lot."

Steven's truly never met a woman like you.

"You're incredible..."

[sugarbag]

✰﹣𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗯𝗯𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 :)

abby anderson x fem!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀. what i think being in a relationship with abby would be like! (i have brainrot)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. none i think, apart from poor writing because it's 2am 🤡 reader is referred to as girl a few times and it's implied that reader has long hair

FLUFF.

an. ummm so im officially obsessed with abby. theres a part at the end thats very specific for black women because self-insert 💅 but i'll put a little ✰ beforehand! english is still not my first language :) if you enjoy this pleeease let me know!

- ok so first of all, abby is baby. she is soooo serious about nicknames it's adorable!! once you start calling her by a nickname it better stick because she will literally pout all day if you call her abby. if you do her call something other than a cheesy nickname, she really likes abigail. the way it rolls off your tongue, the way it feels like she's owned by you when you call her that, it makes her giddy :)

for you, she goes for "sweet girl" or "angel" :))

-is a clean freak. like an actual freak. she WILL bully you into folding your socks neatly next to hers and god forbid you leave crumbs in bed

-i do not care what anybody says, abby is an ass girl. when you're cuddling, her hand always finds its way to your behind. and when you question her about it, she says it must be sorcery.

of course, she loves every part of you but dat ass... do not bend over near her, she absolutely will fake fuck you from the back and put her whole heart into it. im talking grunting and moaning and you're just standing there like🤰

- she's such a great cook! she learned how to cook with her dad and after his passing, it became a way to feel closer to him. so she cooks for you all the time and acts grumpy when you call her your little housewife but she loves it really :)

-FOREHEAD KISSES‼️especially if there's a height difference, shes such a sucker for those! receiving and giving of course

- please play with her hair :( if you don't know how to braid, she'll teach you :(( BRAID IT OMGGG she loves when you do anything with her hair, brush it, braid it or just pass your hand in it, she'll take anything :) she'll only let you touch her hair, especially if it's undone and her beautiful blonde strands are on display goshhhh

- she will 100% let you paint her nails whatever color you want. no questions asked.

- shares everything with you. sometimes not even on purpose. like her clothes are your clothes and vice versa, you two basically have one big closet. gives you her jacket (the WLF one:)) you want some fries from abby's plate? done. you like her pine scented bodywash a little too much? it's yours :)

- absolutely HATES horror movies. she cannot stand them, maybe a few classics not too gorey but either way she just doesnt watch them. truth is she's a scaredy cat when it comes to horror movies, so when you insist to watch one together, you see your 6ft tank of a girlfriend with her eyes half open and flinching at every noise. truly an hilarious sight. if you watch horror movies alone, she'll just stand like a dad and never sit down because it scares her less that way lol🧍‍♀️

- ok so she's not big on pda but god is she clingy. she never lets go of you (not that you're complaining), always wants to touch you in some way, wether its by holding you hand or having her hand in your back pocket :)

- takes you on surprise dates!! you randomly get texts like "are you busy rn? the museum is open👀" or "it's been a while since we've been at the park. put your shoes on" XJDJSBD

- acts like she hates sunscreen just so that you'll have to put it on for her and smirks the whole time

- takes all the space in bed and when you complain about it, she just puts you on top of her "there, you go angel, got enough space now?"

- SHE LOVES CUDDLING big spoon, little spoon or just being intertwined on your shared bed, she just loves physical touch, ESPECIALLY yours <3

- she's an early bird. i believee abby has the sleep schedule of a grandpa, so she goes to sleep at 9pm sharp and wakes up at 5am to go to the gym. once you tried to persuade her to stay up longer and you got to 10:30pm🙀

- if you go to the gym with her, she'll be like a little kid, all excited to show you around and stays with you the whole time to teach you some exercises. doesn't matter if you know them already, she WILL show you everything

- is a bigggg fan of deep conversations. very early in your relationship, the two of you would have hours long conversations about literally anything. but at some point, you realize you've been talking for a while and abby's just sitting there, gazing at you and admiring everything about you. the way you talk, your voice, the little mimics you make or the way you move your hands when you're animated.. yeah she's down bad.

- she lovesss when you do skincare together, pretended like she hated it at first but she just feels so comfortable with you, she feels at ease. she can relax more and having a sheet mask on with cucumber slices under her eyes is surprisingly relaxing

- her main love languages are physical touch (i know, shocker), gift giving and quality time!

- gifts you sooooo many plushies but pouts when you put them on your bed?? and you're like, "where else should i put them?" and when she points to the closet, you're so offended. they're your babies they are not going in the closet. when you're both laying on the bed, she gives them the stink eye >:

- loves being domestic. cooking together, cleaning together, going to the museum and talk about what you saw days after still, taking walks in the park like an old married couple :) she just can't wait to be your wife :))

✰ (a few thoughts about abby with a black gf!)

- STEALS YOUR SHAMPOO! and when you tell her about, she acts innocent as if her hair didn't smell like shea butter and coconut

- that woman is fascinated by your hair routine. every product you have, she tries it out on herself because she lovesss the smells. she could watch you do your hair for hours (she has)

- wants to help with wash day and she gives the best scalp massages. gets a bit messy if she helps you and definitely takes even more time but she's so precious when she does it :( "is the water too hot?" "is that okay?" "am i tugging too hard?"

- is a fucking beast when it come to braiding your hair once you teach her, she can do anything, box braids, cornrows, knotless, YOU NAME IT

- could watch you in the sun for hours (she does) in an every day context she already wants to stare at you all the time, but when your skin is glowing in the light? she looks at you like you hang the moon and stars

- she wears bonnets religiously and you have matching ones ughh thats too cheesy (but true)

LOOK AT HER‼️‼️

can you tell abby's my girlfriend??

tell me if you like it <3

✰﹣𝔰𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔟𝔞𝔤

[slayfics]

You paint Denki’s nails.

800 words~

You carefully stroked the brush across your nails, ensuring to lay down an even level of paint.

“Man, that’s a strong smell,” Denki said, walking up to sit next to you on the couch.

“Oh sorry, I guess I could move to my dorm,” you said, placing the nail polish brush back in the bottle.

“No it’s fine- by all means continue cutie~” he said, in his usual flirty tone.

You rolled your eyes and continued to paint your nails.

“Hey, what’s that look for?” He asked defensively.

“Nothing little Pichu,” you said, continuing to paint and not looking up at him. You didn’t exactly mind Denki’s casual flirting, but it did irritate you that he flirted with anything that moved. You found it impossible to take any of his compliments seriously when he tossed them around so casually to anyone.

“Pichu? What happened to Pikachu, hm?” He asked, making himself comfortable on the couch.

“Pichu fits you better. He also hurts himself when he uses his electricity,” you said laughing.

“Ouch! Ok, you got me, but I’m working on it! I don’t fry my brain as much as I used to anymore!” Denki said, defending himself.

"I know I know, you've been working really hard," You agreed as you finished up with your nails. "Hey, let me do yours." You offered.

"What?! Paint my nails?" He asked, looking at you with a confused expression.

"Yeah come on, girls love a guy with painted nails. It'll help you," You said teasingly at him.

"Hmm, alright go ahead then. Besides, I'll take any excuse for a cutie to be close to me," He said laughing and sticking out his hands for you.

You playfully hit him on the shoulder for his remark.

"Hey!" He laughed, "You're being extra feisty today."

"You deserved it!" You said searching your bag to choose colors for him. "Hmmm- how about yellow and black? Maybe- your index and ring finger yellow then the rest black? That's pretty spicy I think."

"Sure I trust your judgment," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

You untwisted the cap of the nail polish and pulled his index finger closer to you. Denki watched as you carefully painted even strokes of color onto his nails. His heart beat just a little fast at how close you were to him.

"Wow, ok, I see your vision now. This is looking pretty cool. And~ since you're handing out tips~ what else do you think would help me with the ladies?" He asked, tilting his head as he watched you switch to the black nail polish.

"Be more picky," You said plainly as you continued to paint.

"Hm? What do you mean?" He asked.

"You flirt with everyone Kaminari, and everyone knows it- no girl wants that," You explained. "Girls like to feel special. They don't want to be with someone they think would just date anyone. They have to feel like you mean it when you say you like them or call them cute. So, stick to flirting with one girl. Maybe you'll have better luck that way."

"Ohh- Ok, I think I get what you're saying," Denki responded and looked solemn for a moment as he processed your words.

You two sat in silence for a few moments as you began painting his next hand.

"Hey- do... Do you want to go to the arcade tomorrow?" Denki asked, his voice sounding unusually unsure.

"Sure, you gonna kick Kirishima's ass at Mortal Kombat again?"

Denki laughed, "Always! But um- no... I meant... Do you want to go to the arcade... with just me?" He clarified.

You paused painting his nails and looked up at him, "What?" You exclaimed surprised by his question.

"Well- you just told me I should focus on one girl and... If I'm being honest- you're the one I think about all the time. I'm not just saying flirty stuff to be charming or something- I... I mean it with you," He explained, as he searched your dumbfounded expression desperate for an answer.

You felt like your whole body was paralyzed. Was Denki being serious? All those times he flirted with you- he wasn't just joking? Did he really mean everything he said?

Your cheeks warmed up the more you processed his words.

Denki began to panic at your silence, "Oh man, you can totally forget everything I just said if I made this weird. I don't want to ruin our friendship or anything!"

"No! It's not that- I... I uh... yeah- let's go to the arcade tomorrow. Just you and me," You said, your blush deepening as you went back to eyeing his fingers to avoid his gaze. It was suddenly hard to look him in the eyes now.

"Yeah? You want to?!" He exclaimed excitedly. "Ok! It's a date then."

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee

[blingblong55]

✨Hello✨ I would like some Headcannons of 141 + könig with a gen z reader who's on the older side (like, 20-25) at first they were besties with soap, but then they became good friends with everyone. They are one of the very few people who can bother the shit out of ghost and live to tell the tale. All of 141 and könig have had their nails painted/makeup done by reader, and once a week AT LEAST, reader and the 141 + könig have a ✨ s p a d a y ✨ face mask, manicures, pedicures, you name it and the reader, 141 + könig have probably done it. Reader is also ver affectionate. Their name can be whatever you want it to be. Have a good day/night, eat, drink water, and don't overwork yourself or I'll find you and hit you with a steel frying pan. Love ya 😁

I love the way you show your love for me!!

Material Girl- 141+König

Not a proper hc...I think (idk my brain isn't braining rn)

Gn!reader! Smut at the end so warning!!

It's been forever since you arrived at base. 141, mainly Ghost nicknamed you rooks, short for rookie, also short like you. "Sergeant rooks, get over here." "rooks you sure 'bout this?" "Hey rooks, wanna hang out" god did it exhaust you, but it was all banter. Nothing more.

Soap soon after you had arrived at base became your best friend, only friend in the eye of others. He knew almost everything of the tiny rookie that had become his friend. Price didn't get it at first. How someone so smart as you had befriended his Scott soldier. But soon after seeing you and him explode different things around base he understood, "not about the level of knowledge but by how dumb they both are." It took 5 months for them all to be open to you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"ghost...ghost...heeeeyyyyy ghooossstttt" you whispered yelled (does that make sense? hope it does)

"yes rooks?" His voice hinting at his frustration.

You jumped from behind and made him jump. "Just wanting to see if you were still alive" "3 laps around base, go"

----

And after much fight, he got used to you. Always making extra coffee for the days he knew you'd be around the most. He felt like a teacher with you and soap around. "If you do that, don't ya think it'll explode" then he saw your wheels turn. "that'll be awesome!"

----

"fuck off Janet. im not goin to your fucking baby shower?"

"Who the fucks is that sergeant?"

Man did you annoy him with quotes from tiktok, but he loved how every time you would laugh at literal dark jokes, others would consider a sigh of a mental illness. "Die bitch...dieeee!!" You said as he killed a spider. He soon chased you with it. And as always you cried a little.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When the team found you stressed after a mission, they asked soap what a day off in your life looked like. "They better thank us for this." Price sighed as he, ghost and König prepared the common room to seem like a comfy living space.

"Ghost, you're next..what color would you like?" you looked up at him, annoyance leaked from his eyes. "Black..all black" You look around your kit, "I have glittery black? will that work?" your curious eyes starring at his, "fine" he responded. Gaz took pictures and sent them to the group chat, the same one he left because of your stupid daily memes.

"This is worse than torture."

"Do you or do you not feel bonita?" you smiled as you carefully painted his nails. He hesitated, "I feel bonita" . "Wonderful because you look Bonita!" you squealed, your hands cheerfully in the air.

Then it was König's turn, "nails or makeup mister?" you kindly asked. "pick makeup, their skin care routine after the removal makes your skin so smooth." gaz said as he caressed his own face. "Makeup, but just do my eyes please, ja?" You understood why his request was so odd, but you complied. Once you did his eyes: "gosh you look prettier than me, König!" he blushed at your comment. "Lift your mask, and I'll do your lips, want to see how pretty this shade will look on my pretty boy." you made way as he lifted his mask, "Pretty, pretty lips" his smile giving him away.

"Price?" "m'fine with the nails, thanks"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was a Wednesday night, that you and the team designated for spa days. You bought them those soft hair bands with different shapes and colors. Ghost and König agreed on wearing surgical masks just for this activity. All of the tough soldiers reclined on sofas as you went around and applied face masks and cucumber for aesthetics. ----

Soap enjoyed how your hands would massage his hair. It was something you had mentioned, when he applied black war paint on his hair and you gasped. "If you want hair masks just ask Johnny! don't gotta kill me with this!" you exclaimed on the field.

----

They all had robes on, you even ordered those foot massager machines for them. And when you were done with their masks, you would lay on the floor with pillows around. You read, and sprayed the room with different aromas. Sometimes when you felt hippie enough you would walk around with incense.

----

It was the only time you went around taking pictures, they soon found out because you accidentally airdropped one to Gaz, who made it his profile on the group chat.

----

"it smells horrible" ghost would say, "shh im cleansing you honey" your calm voice making him more scared, what if you accidentally lit him on fire, something that soap had done to gaz when he too felt like a hippie.

"thank you hase (bunny)" König would always keep you close when this whole thing was happening, his excuse was that your body heat was comfortable to him, in reality, he just needed an excuse to have you near.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was a routine that you had created with them. For Ghost and König, you always spent the nights with either of them, you would stay up and wait until they needed you. Hugs from these two were the best. Soldiers stared and they would give them 'the' look. (you comment on this..I kill what you love)

"König it's time for hugs!" you jumped and he catched you, your head on his chest, "You are kind mein König," you used that only when he needed to be brought back after a tough mission.

----

Soap and you had physical touch as love language, so showing him your affection was easy. You'd give his hands a squeeze or rubbed his shoulders and this man would just stand there, taking all the affection you could give. Sometimes it was him who would hug you so tight, you thought you might pass out.

"too much love" you would remind him. "m'sorry, felt like giving it all today" he would chuckle.

----

Price was different, this man needed affection when having smoke competitions.

"learned this one on tiktok," you inhaled and perfect circle flew around. "S'good, getting better." He would stare in amusement as the circle of smoke disappeared. But at times he did need a hug. So when the day needed a little snuggle, he would approach you. "Feeling a little cold today, you?" and you would just hug him tight. "Do you feel my love?" you smiled as your face was deep in his man boobs (man am I a whore for man boobs..so squishy and shit)

----

Gaz needed affection in fun ways. So every morning you would send him memes, or tease him about something. "S'not funny." "My uncle broke his neck tap-dancing once." and back to giggles it was. At times since you and him were somewhat the same age, you'd send tiktoks to one another.

"Gaz can you serve" He would pose and you'd laugh, "no like serve your country" and he'd salute. "Fucks sake was that." ghost would whisper to Price. "Maybe if we don't move, they won't notice us."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

(please tell me this is what you meant when you said "done it" cuz if not,,,them im putting myself on blast here)

NSWF(kinda) MINORS DNI!!!

MANHANDLED im telling you!!!

These man were starving for some sex. So when the opportunity rose, you as a decent person, homie hopped. (I would too, so no shame here)

It first started with Ghost, then König. Then the two men with you(yes..threesome bc we only live once). Soap would probably find the three of you fucking. It would be on accident though. He was walking around base when he heard you scream, and when he opened the door you were in between the two big men.

After a week of witnessing the naked horrors of his superior and friends he would talk to you. "I was tempted." you confessed. "Mind doing me next?" he bluntly said. "I mean, would you be up for it?" "Now? or later?" he looked at you, soon later it was you and him and the same room he had caught you in.

Then like a good father and son, price and gaz shared you. And I mean SHARED. You didn't hesitate, mainly because you had a thing for gaz since the beginning, but price was more of a fantasy that turned real.

It took a little bit of convincing, and a lot of drinking and smoking (green plant activities ) to be in the presence on them all.

Gang bang? anyone? Anyways, it was a sworn secret that was called a one time thing. But after the 3rd time of the one time thing it was just a team building exercise for sure. (monthly so you would be able to walk properly)However after every mission Ghost and König would fuck the anger off of their system. Price understood why you wouldn't be able to make it to some training days, those were also the days he had fun with "excuse or not you better pay your debt"

tags: @g4y-gr3ml1n

REQUEST ARE OPEN!!

A/N: please tell me you understood why the title is that?

[delusionalwriter02]

hellooo can i request headcanon on chuuya, dazai, ranpo, atsushi and kunikida about if theyll let f reader paint their nails ??

Nail art session

Chuuya, Dazai, Ranpo, Atsushi, Kunikida x F!Reader / Fluff / Headcanons

a/n : Thank you so much for your request ! I'll have so much fun writing this so I hope you like it ! <3

Chuuya :

-"My love ?" You say, slowly approaching your husband. You finally have a day off and you were planning to take advantage of it. -"Yes ?" Chuuya said, lying quietly in your bed, a book in hand. -"Can I take care of your nails?" And Chuuya bugged.

I honestly think he'll only let you do this if you make them dark red or black, without too much extravagance. Even if he wears gloves, he may have to take them off in public and doesn't want to be embarrassed by candy pink nail art, for example.

But if you really insist on making little patterns for him, he will give in and let you do it. Expect to receive little comments like “Are you finished?” or even “Don’t get on the cuticles”. That he knows this word surprises you and when you ask him WHERE he learned this word, he simply answers that he likes to look at you when you take care of your nails and actually listens when you talk about it.

What a cutie.

Dazai :

This man would say yes to anything you could ask him. “You want to take care of my nails?” He said looking at his hands. "Yes why not !"

You can DO EVERYTHING, from yellow to black to azure blue, he'll definitely like it. So HAVE A FUN. The only thing that will be difficult to deal with is Dazai himself. He will remove his hands from yours regularly to observe your work. Even if you've only just done a nail, he wants to look.

You're going to take breaks every 30 seconds because he doesn't know how to sit still for more than 5 minutes when he's with you. Yes, it will take hours to finally finish your work but it will be perfect.

-"Honey, it's so beautiful! You're so talented!" He will show his nails to the whole agency, specifying each time that it was you who did them so well.

Ranpo :

-"Absolutely not !" Ranpo shouted, as you practically begged him to let you do his nails. -"But why? -It smells bad. "You're a child, darling." You said, sitting down next to him.

Yes, it will be hard to convince him but through persuasion, he agrees to let you do it but he will only keep your art for a day, to please you.

It goes without saying that you jump at the chance, you give him some sweets to keep him going. When you finish the first hand, he complains that he can't touch anything, he complains that it's taking too long, that it smells bad, that his arm is cramping. It's a one-hour fight but you can be proud of yourself, your work is magnificent.

-"FINALLY I'M FREE!" Ranpo shouted, jumping off the couch, you laughed at his childishness.

Atsushi :

He would be delighted if you wanted to take care of him, even if it's "just" nails. The poor guy has never taken the time to take care of his manicure and he doesn't know much about it so he'll let you do it, the only thing he doesn't want is too flashy colors.

While you have his right hand in yours, he will ask you how you learned to do nails, he will even be impressed by your dexterity.

-"You are beautiful when you concentrate." Said Atsushi. You laugh slightly, softened. -"Thank you angel, I want it to be perfect." After a good hour more, you are finally satisfied with your work.

Atsushi looks at his fingers in admiration. Not once did he complain about how long it lasted. He's just happy to have shared this moment with you.

Kunikida :

He will be VERY reluctant at first. It's not that he doesn't trust you with your talent but he doesn't want to have something too complicated, he will only end up accepting if you do a simple sober color.

He has a schedule calibrated to perfection so he will dedicate 2 hours to you so that you can take care of him. Surprisingly, he will ask a lot of questions about what you are currently doing, what tool is used for what, he is curious about this universe that he knows little about.

-"This is to remove cuticles that are too long." You say, pointing at the object. -"You'll do my nails more often, that's interesting." He said while adjusting his glasses.

Yes, you just converted him to the world of nail art and with any luck, you can one day give him hot pink nails.

If you're lucky.

Hey I hope you liked it? I had a lot of fun writing these headcanons so thank you very much for your request!

See you <3

[neuroprincess]

Fuck Me! - Rebecca Welton/Reader

Rebecca Welton/Female Reader

Summary: Rebecca knows she is working too much and for the first time in weeks has a free morning with her daughter, Lowie.

Classification: Light Angst, Domestic Fluff

Warnings: None

Word count: +2700

Unrevised

The blonde looked down at her hands, admiring the work done on the rounded nails painted in an impeccable French line, gleaming against the illumination. And then to the little girl in her front staring expectantly at her, among them a dozen colorful children's nail polishes, some with glitter. She raises an eyebrow analyzing the situation, the day before went to the manicure and hoped to keep it for at least a week. The work schedule consumes all her time, including the few free ones, she barely has time to be with family, much less for self-care as she organizes and prepares the club for the next matches of the soccer season. Rebecca sighs and thinks about what words she should use to refuse to let the child paint her nails. 

"How about I paint yours?" she asks hoping that might divert Marlowe's attention. 

" Alrighty then, I'll choose the colours ." the girl quickly runs to the corner of the playroom, reaching for a colorful decorated box with another dozen nail polishes, some fun stickers too "And I want them all." 

"Lowie..." 

"Mummy..." they stare at each other for a few seconds until the woman sighs in defeat, she loves that her daughter has inherited part of her personality but that could be a problem "I want rainbow colours." 

"That's going to be a lot of work, you're the most demanding customer I've ever had." 

"Don't be silly, Mummy." Marlowe cracks a toothless smile and places both hands on the table, opening the little fingers so they can be painted "I am your only customer." 

"Sometimes your Mama is my customer too." the blonde winks and gets a big smile from the little girl. 

"And I'm always her customer, she paints my nails all the time, sometimes Mama puts stickers and all my friends love it." she nods towards the colorful cards with images of cartoons, flowers and small designs "It's okay if it doesn't look right." 

Rebecca laughs at being reassured about her abilities by a five year old, she can't do wonderful designs or details like her own manicure does, but is sure she must know how to paint in the right spaces. It's something she and Sassy did together as youngsters, having perfect nails...almost all the time. 

"I don't like orange. I want my favorite color." the woman brakes, immediately dropping the bottle in place. She realizes she doesn't know what color it is and a strange feeling makes stomach heavy, maybe guilt "Blue, Mummy. Like your team and Bluey." 

"Oh yes, of course." she looks for the color among the nail polishes, finding it at the bottom of the box, no surprise having glitter, then looks at the tiny hands on the table, it's adorable how chubby they are and the little nails are smudged all around, so knows she overestimated her talent "Stickers?" 

"Please." 

They smile and soon the blonde has all her concentration on not smudging the other nails, making a funny face that unintentionally makes her daughter laugh watching. When finished she smiles happily, proud of herself for not getting it wrong this time. Then picks up the cards, placing them in front of the girl as if they really were at the manicure. All the nails are already painted, this is the final part. 

"I didn't know they existed from Baby Shark." Rebecca comments analyzing the options. 

"It's not sticker, it's tattoo." the surprised and confused expression stamped on her face makes the strawberry blonde laugh again, it's fun for her to see her mom, who knows everything, be lost "Can I do it on you? Please." 

"Mummy has work later, so no, sweetheart." 

"Okay." Marlowe whispers trying to keep a smile, even if she is disappointed. 

Since the Premier League had started a few months ago and AFC Richmond came further than it ever has before, Welton found herself busier than usual, meetings almost every week, there are extensive training sessions and a hundred events she has to attend, many times having to participate in creating them. Sinking more and more into work to the point of hardly seeing the family, leaving too early to say good morning and too late for good night, most of the time finding her wife already asleep, clearly trying to stay awake for her arrival, and her daughter drooling against the pillows. It's a cute and funny image she has when giving Marlowe a goodnight kiss on forehead. And no surprise either because she has been a good sleeper since baby, arms and legs everywhere, good hours of sleep and sometimes even snores. 

"And why are you home today?" she finally asks, when woke up this morning, the only free one in weeks, she thought she was going to spend with her wife, have breakfast and take Lowie to kindergarten together, then something else, instead she was woken up late by the child jumping on the bed and a note from Y/N letting them know she had some appointment. 

"I was sick, I can't go to school until tomorrow. The doctor said it's something with V, but I can't remember what." 

"Virosis?" Rebecca chokes on her own saliva, at breakfast they shared a cup of tea without her having any idea that the girl was sick, which bothers her too, as a mother she is aware that should know about things like that. 

"Yes!" 

"Fuck me!" 

"Yeah! Fuck me!" 

"Marlowe Amelia Welton! Watch your mouth!" she scolds, knowing she would be screwed if Y/N heard that, one of the agreements they made about motherhood is to avoid swearing around her. 

"You said first! It's a good thing, Mummy." the woman widens eyes and sips the glass of water trying to wet dry throat, pure nervousness "That's what you and Mama say when you are in the room and you look happy." and then spits out the whole contents "And the next day I get candy." 

"Oh..." of course, they agreed it would be avoidance around her, but they forgot how loud can be in intimate moments and always counted with the heavy sleep of their daughter sleeping in the next room "It wasn't... but how can that be good now?" she tried to change the subject, it would be too hard to explain. 

"Aren't you happy that I'm sick? That way we can stay home together." Marlowe smiles and blows her nails to dry them faster, a cute little pout "So today I am happy." 

"But you see me at the matches, sweetheart." 

"It's not the same, everyone has you there, sometimes I want to have you all to me, Mummy. When you are home we can watch movies, play and paint, I like when you tell me bedtime stories, sleep by my side and hold me when I am sad. I want you to stay here forever, with me. And with Mama too. Because it's more special." 

The sad and sincere childish words make Rebecca's stomach sink, heart palpitate harder and eyes burn trying to hold back tears, she imagined that Lowie, her little and lovable Lowie, missed her, but hear it from her is something different. It's painful. She realizes how much the little girl appreciates and values the moments they spend together, how much her presence means. 

"And you are sad now?" 

"No, because we are together." Rebecca smiles sadly, trying to hold back the tears and failing, her daughter notices, then faces her worriedly "Mummy, are you sad?" Marlowe doesn't wait for an answer, running out of the chair and around the table to hug her mom, little arms around waist, little face pressed to hip and the blonde's hands caress the little girl's back.  

"It's okay, baby. I'm fine." as she is about to let go the woman holds her against her own body and leaves a kiss in hair, inhaling the sweet smell of shampoo "But I still want your hug. The best hug in the world. I love you, sweetheart."  

"I love you more, Mummy. And I know, Mama says it all the time. I'm all perfect, from the tip of my toe to the last strand of my hair."  

"Cocky, isn't you?!"  

"I don't know what it means."  

"Means you're really perfect." the childish giggle soon takes over as Rebecca takes advantage of the low guard and tickles her armpits, grabbing her on lap to do it on her tummy as well.  

"I... I ... I surrender, Mummy!" she manages to say between giggles, those are the magic words they use every time playing with each other.  

"Oops, your nails got smudged." Rebecca points to the colorful nails, polish all over her fingers, a total mess.  

"It's okay, it was already smudged." is the only response from the little girl who gets off her mother's lap, knowing she would be caught up again, little legs running to the kitchen counter, where she stops remembering something ""Mummy, I have to get ready for the day."  

"You're staying home today."  

"But I like to get ready, come on."   

"Right, sweetheart."  

Marlowe's room, which once was white and in tones of pink, is now totally colorful, the walls are filled with drawings, teddy bears and art materials, she also has a large closet, where besides clothes and shoes a great collection of hair bows is kept. Years ago, when she found out that they were going to have a little girl, Rebecca bought the first bow as if she predicted that their daughter would be in love with the accessory, and almost cried with emotion when she carried her out of the maternity ward wearing it. Then the first tufts of hair appeared, surprising little blonde curls in a reddish hue, and came a hundred bows, hair clips, headbands and ribbons. Now strawberry blonde hair reaches the middle of her back, bangs cut perfectly straight and ends wavy, the woman absolutely loves brushing and styling for events. Like weeks ago at an AFC Richmond home match, she did high pigtails, decorated with blue and red hair ribbons, one color on each side.  

"Thank you, Mummy!" Marlowe appreciates looking at herself in the mirror, loving the multi-colored bow at the end of a braid, so she turns to the accessory box looking for something "For you to look like me." and puts a rainbow clip in her mom's hair, followed by another, unicorn this time "We look beautiful." 

"Yes, we are, sweetheart." the Welton's stare at each other for a second before the woman kisses her daughter's head.  

Rebecca gets up from the floor and grabs her phone from the dresser, without any surprise it's already full of text messages, a missed call, a reminder about the afternoon meeting and a text from her wife.  

"Hi, love! Some unexpected things happened at the meeting, Keeley volunteered to babysit Lowie in the afternoon. Please check her purse when she arrives, last time they almost overdosed on Fini, apparently our daughter inherited your taste for sweet."  

She smiles reading the text, of course the girl has inherited it, she is a small version of her, but almost redhead, bright green eyes, defined lips and nose, not just physically, they share many personality traits and tastes. Marlowe runs across the room and throws herself against her, gripping the long legs tightly and the legs curl together like a baby monkey.  

"Was nice having you with me, Mummy." the blonde faces her in confusion and takes her in lap, noticing the sad expression on the childish face "It's okay to go away."  

"Sweetheart, I don't...'"  

"You're on your phone, whenever you're on your phone you have work to do." Rebecca wastes no time in hugging her, pressing the little body against herself and strokes back, calming the imminent cry "It's okay."  

"Lowie, that was Mama, she's going to be late and..." the child faces her expectantly "We, you and I, are staying together. What do you think about watching that cartoon you like?"  

"Bluey?! And can we have Fini? And there's chocolate pudding in the fridge." Marlowe quickly gets excited, jumping for joy at the idea of them spending more time together.  

"Well, we need to talk about sugar, young lady." Rebecca laughs leaving her on the floor again, giving a gentle pat on the head "But later, now you can grab some treats from the drawer." and winks at her little partner in crime.  

Marlowe nods positively and runs down the hallways disappearing from the woman's field of vision, soon she hears the sound of the drawer. In one phone call and a few text messages all the rest of the day's appointments are cleared, giving her a totally free schedule. She also tells Keeley that she doesn't need to come. The phone is put on silent mode and kept in the pocket of her pants. Nothing will get in the way.  

"Lowie, what do you think about painting Mummy's nails? Any color you want. And I want a tattoo too."  

It's almost 6pm when the sound of keys in the door wakes Rebecca from a nap, she settles down on the couch carefully, not wanting to wake her daughter lying on her lap. The two of them simply fell asleep after about 15 episodes, all chocolate pudding and a few packs of Fini. She tries to pull herself up and out of Marlowe's embrace, failing miserably at that mission as the girl cuddles even tighter into her, snoring lightly against her chest. In less than a minute Y/N appears in the living room, carrying a dozen different bags and a sweet smile on lips as she finds the cute scene. 

"Hi, my love!" she whispers excitedly and crouches down to leave a soft kiss on her wife's lips, then on the child's forehead "I thought you had a super important meeting today."  

"It's been rescheduled, as has the rest of my schedule." Rebecca smiles and pulls the youngest to herself, making her sit on the corner of the couch with them, bags on the floor "And what were you doing?"  

"I had parents meeting for a sporting event at school, in the afternoon, well, I went shopping." she laughs shyly as confesses her activities "Lowie had a growth spurt, so I had to buy new clothes and uniform, she barely fits into pajamas."  

"What did you expect having the baby of a 5 foot 11 woman?! When I was her age the same thing happened. And I noticed there was something different." and indeed she did, a little of her tummy showing when putting on a blouse and the pants bars reached the ankle, plus now Marlowe is at her waist height "I see you went to the hairdresser and manicure too."  

"Damn, I thought you wouldn't notice."  

"You deserve that time to yourself, you are living like a full-time solo mom. I'm sorry I'm not here for you." the blonde says with guilt in her voice and strokes her wife's hair, pulling her into a gentle kiss "And you look fucking gorgeous and sexy." she whispers low as possible, especially after learning that her daughter's sleep doesn't stop her from having good hearing.  

"That's okay, my love. But I confess I can't wait for Premier League to finish soon. Looks like you had some time to yourself too, with Lowie. Pretty nails, Welton." really pretty, painted in various colors, some with fun stickers. Strong arms are covered with temporary tattoos of various cartoons, the girl has convinced her to do more and more with puppy dog eyes. Her usually perfect hair is a mess with those same clips and a few more. Not even her face escaped, colored eyeshadow and blurry pink lipstick befitting childish abilities "We have a girly girl in our home."  

"A persuasive girly, she's so talkative. And a mini me." Rebecca says proudly and the girl seems to sense that they are talking about her, at the same time wakes up "Hello, sleepyhead."  

"Mummy.... Mama!" she practically screams and throws herself into Y/N's arms, not realizing she kneed the taller one, who just hisses in pain and holds up a curse "Oh! Fuck me! Your hair looks beautiful, you're cocky, just like me." Marlowe says excitedly into the hug, squeezing her as hard as she can.  

"What?" she looks at her wife with wide eyes, not believing what had just heard.  

"Oops..."  

"We'll talk about it later, Mrs. Welton."  

And Rebecca knows she's fucked. 

taglist: @dvrkhcld

Join my taglist here ^^ now there is addition of Rebecca

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and to Heal (Part 15)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Could we talk? 

When your message appears on his phone, Martin doesn't believe his eyes. At first he assumes he is dreaming; a quick pinch to his forearm and the subsequent brief burst of pain confirms he is, indeed, awake. He laughs to himself then, a giddy, overjoyed sound as he reads the message from you again and again, enough times that the words are burned into his eyelids when he closes them. 

Rearranging his schedule to pick up Atla today had been worth it. Incurring Arteta's wrath for sneaking out early? Also very, very worth the reward. Even if nothing comes of it, even if you don't have the courage or wherewithal to send him a follow up response, Martin can live with that, as long as he has some closure. 

His fingers shake as he types out a casual, cool, collected response. Of course! Now? Tomorrow? When are you thinking? 

Nailed it, honestly. Not overly eager. Simple and to the point. Leaves nothing up to interpretation. Martin is still sweating bullets regardless. 

For a few minutes, Martin simply stares at his phone until his eyes water and he is forced to blink some moisture into them. He tries not to fret when you don't immediately reply. It's late; there is a good chance you're either sleeping or prepping for your classes tomorrow. Despite his racing heart, sweating palms and pacing feet, Martin somehow convinces himself that he is perfectly calm. He's definitely not freaking out. Nope. He's fine. Toooootally fine. 

Though that fragile construct comes crashing down when Martin's phone vibrates. Whenever you have an hour or so free? After school of course. I can come to you?

Absolutely. Friday? I'll be done at six. But I'll come to you though. 

Martin immediately arranges for Kieran to take Atla overnight as a precaution. Who knows what might happen? Martin doesn't want to get his hopes up, but regardless of how things go, he knows he will be a volatile bucket of emotions and he'll need some time to process. He would rather do that on his own than have his daughter around to witness it. Good or bad, Friday will be… interesting, to say the least. 

Friday at six thirty then. That works. I'll see you then 

The expectation of hearing from you again is dashed when twenty four hours pass with nothing new. Martin's phone is far from quiet thanks to the Arsenal group chat, which thankfully keeps him busy and occupied on his day off whilst Atla is at school. Martin even arranges to pick Atla up himself, though he's disappointed to find another teacher in charge of after school care instead of you. 

Tomorrow, he tells himself. Tomorrow is my second chance. 

And Martin is completely, utterly, wholly determined to grab the opportunity with both hands and run with it. He refuses to squander his relationship with you a second time. He will say all the right things, fall over himself to make all the right promises, and follow through with each one of them. Because if Martin is being honest with himself, the last time he felt about someone like this… He married them. 

On his way into Colney the next morning, Martin passes by Atla’s favorite bookshop. It is a quaint, family owned place located on a busy corner in north London. He glances at their window displays when he is stopped at the light, as he often does. 

And Martin does a double take- the sign in the window promotes a new romance book, titled ‘Second Chances Only Come Once’, written by the author of the hit book ‘She’s the One’. 

The grin plastered on Martin’s face is indicative enough. If he had been waiting for a sign, that would be it. The sky over London is a bright, vibrant orange, streaked through with rich reds and subtle yellows. The sunrise is the exact shade of Maria’s favorite paint- Windsor Orange, a color she claimed felt like home. Each Christmas Martin would buy her a year’s supply to ensure she didn’t run out. 

“Thank you,” Martin murmurs to the sky. A light breeze ruffles his hair through the open car window, and the smile does not leave Martin’s face for the entire drive.

Kieran doesn't ask questions at training that morning- he's simply excited to spend some quality time with his goddaughter. Kieran does not question Martin’s good mood, not even when Martin convinces Arteta to go easy on the team and skip the half dozen extra drills he had scheduled and opt for an extra gym session instead. 

Martin pays very little attention whilst Kieran rattles off a long list of things he's planned to entertain Atla, including a trip to Harrods to spoil her rotten. Normally that sort of thing would irk Martin, but today the thought barely registers. 

“Uh huh, sounds great,” Martin murmurs noncommittally, “Perfect. Atla will love it.” 

“Mate, you've not heard a word I've said. You're fine with me taking her on a shopping spree? You normally yell at me for that! What happened to ‘she's got enough toys,’ eh?” Kieran makes air quotes there, referring to the dozens of times Martin has argued that point. That, at least, causes Martin to pause. 

“What? Oh- I mean sure if that's what you want to do with her I won't stop you, she'll enjoy it. Really she will-”

Kieran sets his weight down and rests his elbows on his knees. Everyone always says that blue eyes are unnerving, but Martin knows the truth- it's the unflinching, hard brown eyes that really do you in. Martin clears his throat, squirming under the pressure of Kieran's stare. “Tell me.” 

“Tell you what? There's nothing to tell.” Martin scarcely believes himself as unconvincing as his words are. Kieran simply blinks, which somehow is even more unnerving than the original stare. Martin sighs, knowing his friend will not let up until he uncovers the truth. “Alright fine- I'm talking to solskin tonight. It's not a big deal!” 

Kieran, knowing better than to pry, simply nods firmly. “Good. Maybe you'll quit moping around the grounds then. Honestly it's getting tiring, carrying this entire team on my shoulders. I cannae do it all on my own, you know.”

Martin cracks a grin, “I know mate. Hopefully after tomorrow I can take some of that pressure off you.” 

*********

Martin, Martin, Martin. For nearly forty eight full hours, the Norwegian midfielder fills every corner of your brain. You're barely able to make it through your lessons, as distracted as you are by the thought of seeing him again. In a private setting. Alone. At your house. 

Why did you agree to this again?

Friday evening, you frantically clean your already clean flat. You agonize over whether or not to leave the blanket slung over the sofa- is it too suggestive? Or is it just cosy? You wind up leaving it. You are fully aware that you are overthinking. That doesn’t stop you from rearranging the shoes in the entry three times until you’re positive they are just the right amount of messy. 

Deciding on an outfit is nearly as chaotic- with Jen's help you settle on comfort over chic, opting for your favorite pair of jeans and a loose, warm sweater. Your hair you leave in your usual style, not putting too much effort in. This is not a date, as you have to continually remind yourself. It is simply a chat, nothing more. 

Waiting is the hardest part. You sit on your sofa with a random show on for background noise, something about the history of the crown jewels. Should you have cooked? Six thirty is dinner time, ish- maybe he's expecting a meal? Oh god-

The doorbell interrupts your thoughts and you spring into action. You wipe your palms on your jeans before opening the front door, pasting a smile on your face that you pray appears genuine. Your eyes start at his feet- black and white Nike dunks, light wash jeans, and a black bomber style jacket- and end on his soft, angelic face. You quickly meet his eyes, lasting all of one second under the gentle scrutiny of his baby blues before heat floods your cheeks and you are forced to look away.

“Hey- hi Mr. Ødegaard, please come in.” 

Martin's hands slide into his pockets, thumbs hooked into his belt loops. “I'm not coming in until you drop the formality, solskin.” 

You swear your very soul responds to the nickname. It glides so easily off his tongue, as though no time has passed despite the cold shoulder you have given him. With one sentence, Martin crosses the chasm between the pair of you without a second thought, throwing you a lifeline to cling to whilst you try to wade through the sea of emotions that threatens to overwhelm your good sense. 

“Okay,” you murmur, “Okay. Please come in, Martin.” 

“Mar,” he corrects softly, tipping his head to meet your downcast eyes. “Please call me Mar.”

Only when you nod in agreement does he finally relent and enter. He bends to untie his shoes and hangs his jacket on the hook behind the door. There is a familiarity in his actions, like he has done this a hundred times instead of being able to count the number of occurrences on one hand. 

“Um, please have a seat,” you say around the bile creeping up your throat. You haven't been this nervous since your first day teaching. It feels as if one wrong move will leech away the confidence you've spent ages rebuilding; brick by brick you've had to remind yourself that you deserve this. One step at a time. 

“Thank you.” Martin makes himself comfortable on the sofa, one arm slung over the back. It strikes you then how well he fits in. Despite his undoubtedly expensive clothes, he does not seem out of place in a room filled with mostly second hand things. The cream of his shirt perfectly matches the blanket you worried over earlier. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume they were cut from the same cloth. 

You clear your throat and carefully perch on the opposite side. You smooth the wrinkles from your sweater, suddenly self conscious of your appearance. Shit, you forgot to offer him a drink! 

“Would you uh- would you like a drink? There's water, soda, uh… milk I think?” 

Martin's smile is like a physical caress, calming your nerves. Whether he realizes it or not is uncertain, “I'm alright for now, thank you solskin. You wanted to talk?”

How is he so calm right now? How are you not calm? You're the one that asked for this. You prepared, didn't you? Spent hours on the phone with Jess last night, coming up with bullet points of what needed to be said. How have you suddenly forgotten it all?

“Solskin,” Martin prompts softly. “Hey? I'm perfectly okay sitting in silence but if you have something to say, I want to make sure you're heard.”

“Stop- just stop being so charming for two minutes,” you mumble. You press two fingers to your temples and try to get your ducks in a row. You requested to speak with Martin, yes. You wanted to discuss the potential of moving forward. You wanted to tell him you still care about him. Okay. Okay. Basics first. 

You take a deep breath and straighten your spine. Cheating your body towards Martin's you begin, “I still care about you a lot. More than I should considering you're the parent of one of my students- don't do that,” you scold when Martin tips his head side to side. Martin grins, forcing you to fight to keep your mental train on the right track. “As I was saying, you're the parent to one of my students and I shouldn't even have asked to speak with you. I should've taken what happened as a sign from the universe, an easy way out but I just…”

“Can't let it end, yeah.” Martin finishes the thought on your behalf. You nod, grateful that he was able to voice it when you couldn't. 

“Right. But I also know that your daughter has to come first, and I don't want to suggest otherwise. Atla loves you and you're all she has, I know she looks up to her papa. I know she doesn't want to see you with anyone other than her mum, and maybe she's just too young to understand, which means this was all just a waste of time and ishouldn'thaveinvitedyouanyway-”

Your words rush out in one long heap, piling over each other and overlapping at the ends. Tears prick your eyes and suddenly you feel so incredibly stupid for thinking this could work in any capacity. Martin reaches for your hand but you pull it away, unable to bear the thought of him touching you, knowing you'll only crumble. 

“I want this to work Mar, I really do. But I can't ask you to choose between me and your family, it's not right. I don't want to sneak around either,” you add in haste when Martin opens his mouth. “I won't be the reason your daughter hates you. I won't tear apart your home. I just won't. I wouldn't be able to live with myself.”

Once he's positive you're finished, Martin cautiously scoots closer to you. He watches for any sign that you'll flee, and when you don't move a muscle he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his chest. This time you allow it, because you know you'll never have this luxury again. 

Martin's hand runs over your arm whilst he silently soothes you. Your nose is buried in his shoulder, his cologne imprinting itself in your memory. It baffles you how such a simple thing can bring you so much comfort. But slowly, like molasses dripping from a spile, you feel the coils of tension stored in your muscles unknot themselves. Slowly, you feel yourself winding down, your breath coming in even intervals instead of panicked gasps. Your hands, which had fisted themselves tight in the cotton of his shirt, unfurl to rest flat on his chest. 

“That speech was quite noble solskin, but I think you've forgotten something.”

You sniffle, determined not to cry despite the battle raging within yourself. “What did I forget Mar?” 

“That you're part of my home now,” Martin says into your hair. “If you're determined not to let anything ruin my home, you need to include yourself in that.” 

Martin is terrible at articulating how he feels. You've grown used to it; you may not have dated for long but it only took a handful of dates to realize that his trauma ran deep, and that he played his cards close to his chest. So that display of warmth, of what he truly feels inside, is rarer than a diamond. You want to nestle it against your heart and keep it protected behind your ribcage. It is worth more than any precious gem. 

Without thinking, you reach up and cradle Martin's jaw. You smile sadly when he presses his cheek into your hand, your thumb soothing a line under his eye. He's so beautiful- tender and raw and open. Vulnerable. A side you never expected him to share with you. 

“I don't want you to put me before Atla,” you say softly, mindful of how fragile he is beneath your fingertips. You have to be gentle; if you're not he may never trust anyone again. 

Martin covers your hand, fingers tight around yours. “And I don't want that either. I want you both on the same level. I-” Martin stops himself, his throat bobbing under the weight of words left unsaid. “I care about you so, so much. I just want you in my life. That’s all I want.”

“Then Alta needs to understand that I'm not replacing her mum. She needs to understand that before we even think about doing anything, Mar. You can't risk hurting the relationship you have with your daughter.”

“I know. I will. I'll get it all sorted and then it'll be fine- we can try again. Right?”

You nod then, your smile brighter this time. “Once she knows all that, we can try again.”

Martin's eyes flick to your mouth and you know you've both had the same thought. You want to kiss him, to climb into his lap and melt like chocolate on his tongue. You want to pull at his stupid chicken hair until he moans into your mouth, his sounds of delight so sickeningly sweet that your stomach will ache for days afterwards. 

But you can't kiss him. So you don't. At least you have that much control. Instead you let Martin trace your parted lips with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. He moves on to your jaw, your cheeks, your nose, your brow- as if he were a blind man putting a face to a woman who until now has been no more than a voice to him. 

“I have so much to say,” Martin says finally, “and there's not enough time to say any of it.” 

“One day soon, you'll have plenty of time to tell me anything you want.” You allow yourself the luxury of his embrace, your arms winding around his solid middle whilst his fit firmly around your shoulders. 

If you're lucky, this could be your reality. You could come home to Martin, or rather he could come home to you, and have his busy days be endcapped by love and devotion. You've always said you would never consider being a housewife, that you respect yourself far too much to allow yourself to be reduced to a servant to your significant other. But for Martin? You want him to eat a home cooked meal every night. You want to massage his shoulders when he makes an off-hand comment about being sore from training too hard. You want to put Atla to bed and then draw a warm bath for you and Martin to share. 

You want to give Martin the world because he deserves it. You would wait on him hand and foot because you know with absolute certainty that he would do the exact same thing whenever he was afforded the chance. And that sort of fairytale is exactly what you've always wanted in life. You aren't about to let it slip through your fingers. 

[ban-al3x]

Do u write male readers? If so can I get one for shuji <3

Shuji ishii-peters x Male!Readet

This is my first m4m oneshot, so pls lmk if I did anything wrongng 😽

Also so sorry about yesterday! It was my bday and I was busysysy

"Love?" "Yes??" "Can I paint your nails?"

Shuji turned and gave me this weird look. "Why?" "I don't know, I'm bored. Pleaseee, I'll do anything." "Anything?" "Anything." I gave him the puppy dog eyes, he adored."Fine." "OH my God thank you shuji!!" I gave him a kiss. "You're literally the best ever." " He gave me a cute grin. "I know"

I got up to go choose colors, wondering what's be best for him. After a minute I choose blue and black. I got the polish and scurried back to him. "Okay so I'm thinking for your right hand, I'll paint your ring finger and thumb blue and the rest black. For your left it'll be the same just switched. " I explained. "..what..?" I rolled my eyes. "Your left hand will be, thumb and ring finger black and the rest blue. "Oh, that seems cool."

"Okay lemme see." I open the blue nail polish in the right hand, and take his hand with my other. I carefully glide the liquid across his nail, trying my hardest not to mess up. I go from his ring finger to his thumb. I start on his other hand, doing exactly what I said I would do.

"Okay, I'm done with the blue. I just the need the black. ?" I screwed the blush onto the bottle and grab the black bottle. "This'll will take around 5-7 minutes okay? Thank you for being patient." I say, kissing the corner of his mouth. Shuji pouts, asking for a kiss on his lips. "When I'm done handsome" I say chucking. "Alright.." Shuji mumbles.

The next few minutes go in silence, except for me humming a song that was stuck in my head. "Annnnnd done!" I exclaim "They're gonna need to dry but how do you like them?" "They look good my handsome, amazing, talented, boyfriend" He said with sarcasm. I rolled my eyes at the silly boy. "But for real they do look good. "Thank you. It takes skill to learn how to paint nails this good." I laughed. I put the bottle on the side table and look at shuji pouting, again. "What?"

"Can I have my kiss now?"

Word count: 363

Published: 04-2-23

[happysadyoyo]

@pillowspace So... this isn't the time loop au but I thought you might enjoy something a little different considering I'm going to be spending my next few ficlets doubling down on the whump. I really really like dangerous Moon and exploring the cruelty of turning a daycare attendant into an assistant murderer.

So to counterbalance that I'm gonna write a little bit of clone au, and am tagging you in it for the love and maintenance of caring for your resident DCA. If you don't want to be tagged or see the other parts it's okay to let me know!

____

When you applied, it'd been for a laugh. You'd never expected to be standing outside a large plexi and metal cylinder, watching as a seven foot (eight foot? You've never been particularly good at guessing sizes) jester animatronic be tested by a diagnostic robot.

Honestly, you have no idea what you're doing, really.

The computer in front of you dings, and you glance at it. Everything had gone green except for a part in the animatronic's chest. You squint and check your notes on what to do before opening the service chamber.

"Hello! How does everything look doc?" The animatronics' personalities aren't shut down during maintenance, a fact that had startled you the first time you'd been tasked to touch up the paint on the wolf's nails. Roxy? She wasn't one of the originals, so you found it harder to remember her name.

This one is new too. A sun themed jester for the daycare with flexible rays that softly flutter as it watches you pick up a wrench. It doesn't have pupils, possibly so the children don't know where it's looking and discourage misbehaviour. You're not sure how it wouldn't be off-putting.

Then again, this animatronic was designed by the same company who hired a biologist in place of a mechanic, so maybe you shouldn't be so surprised. Fazbear seems like a company that failed upwards despite shooting itself in both feet and eyes.

Ha, your sense of humor is coming back. Your therapist will be pleased.

You stand in front of the animatronic now, tapping the wrench lightly against its front panel. "Oh, are you hoping for a surprise? Sorry, but we don't have a cake hatch like the glamrocks." It does help with unlatching it's hatch, pulling the ruffle around its neck up, the sun rays retracting as you feel for the indentations along the smooth ridge of metal. It had to be hidden and baby proofed since it was a daycare attendant.

The hatch swings open and the smell of burning plastic is accompanied by an outpouring of glitter, falling over your hands and apron, the operating table and onto your shoes and the grubby floor below. You stare at the rainbow of color before looking up at the animatronic blankly.

It has released its ruffle and waves its hands apologetically. "I am so sorry. Of course I'll help clean it up but ---" Your blank stare comes across as unnerving for most people, but you're surprised when it seems to affect the animatronic as well. "A little one decided they wanted to make me pretty since it's been awhile since I've had the chance to clean up. I must've forgotten all about it with how busy I've been. How bad is it inside?" It tries to peer inside, but the rays get in the way.

You look too, covering your mouth and nose with one hand. It's not too bad, you guess. Most of the glitter has melted around the hottest moving parts, and the fan was clogged, making it all the worse. You snap a picture before showing it to the animatronic. It wasn't. A conscious thing to do. Later, you would reason it out as a way to document your work. There was no way the higher ups would like you tinkering so much otherwise.

"Oh! Well, that is bad I suppose. Thank you for showing me." The animatronic watches you curiously as you set down your wrench, going back to the table in search of something. "I've not caught your name friend. I'm Sun! Or Sunny to friends. I'd like to think we're friends, since you're going inside me."

There's a moment of hesitation, and you take the time to test the can you've found. It hisses sluggishly, making you frown. You can feel the animatronic's eyes on you. Sun, Sunny. Your hand twitches involuntarily, and you drop the can.

"Oh!" You hear Sunny move, and turn in time to see him taking one long stride to bend and fetch the can. It holds the hatch still, keeping it from smacking into your arm. "Here you go. I saw you don't like bending down so..."

You're face to plate with it now, and you can hear the mechanics in its head clicking and whirring softly. You can't shake the feeling that it's looking past your skin and inside you, all the way down into your marrow. You shiver and push it back, rubbing your arms and looking to the side. Ignoring its apologies as it returns to the table, still holding the can of air.

You find a new can and test it as well. It hisses sharply, blowing specks of glitter off your sleeve. When you return to the table, you hold out your phone again. Typed out on it is your name.

Delicate long fingers wrap around yours so the animatronic can read the small text. They're warm and smooth and it surprises you how softly it holds you. "Ah, that is a lovely name. It's like sunshine."

When it lets go, you can't help the heat creeping up your neck from the compliment. Or, more rightly so, the very genuine sounding warmth that came from Sunny's voice. How could that be programmed in?

[icycoldninja]

Can I request a cute Reader x MGR Raiden fic? I adore this man and I wanted to indulge on this shit please 🙏🥹🥹

Ooooh yes!!! Here you go and enjoy!

Pretty (MGR! Raiden X Reader)

"There we go," You chuckled, smoothing out the sheet mask over Raiden's face. "Absolutely beautiful." Raiden sighed, lifting the hand mirror you'd set on the table and glancing at his reflection.

"...Y/N," He began, staring at the ridiculous animal-themed face mask plastered to his skin. "What made you think this was a good fit for me?"

"Aw, come on!" You giggled, throwing your arms out. "It's cute!"

"Cute isn't me," Raiden grumbled, setting down the mirror and folding his metal arms. "Besides, what's even the purpose of this thing? I only have skin on half my face."

"It's cute," You repeated, picking up a hairbrush. "Now, sit still." Raiden responded with a loud groan, but made no attempts to move or stop you. After reaching the back of the chair, you began brushing out his shiny blonde hair, taking your time to detangle each silky lock. Once you were done, you gathered his hair up into two bunches and tied them up into pigtails.

"What are you doing?" Raiden growled, as you clipped little pink bows onto the elastic hair ties.

"Making you look even cuter," You responded, tugging on his pigtails to make sure they were secure. "Alright, time for the nails." Raiden let out another exasperated groan and shifted his position, crossing his legs and frowning, though the frown was only half visible thanks to his metal chin.

"Do ya really gotta do this?" Raiden grumbled, eyeing you with skepticism.

"Yes!" You replied, snatching his metal hands and laying them out on the table. "You have beautiful long nails--it'd be a crime to not paint them!"

"Fine," Raiden mumbled, rolling his visible eye. "Just get it over with--and no glitter."

"Argh, but glitter looks the best," You protested, unscrewing the cap of a nail polish bottle.

"Ok..." Raiden agreed, reluctantly. "Just not too much, alright?"

"Don't worry, I'll keep it...moderate." You assured him, taking the nail polish brush and delicately brushed the liquid onto his nails. You worked quickly but carefully, taking great care not to get any polish on the sides of his fingers. You also made sure to paint his nails in dark colors, since he preferred those over bright pastels--though you would have liked to see him sporting neon pink talons.

"We done yet?" Raiden asked, after about 20 minutes. By now you were indeed finished; Raiden's titanium claws were now several different shades of red and indigo, complete with streaks of glitter.

"All done," You nodded, tightening the top on the nail polish bottle and grinning. "Now we can take the mask off, too." Raiden huffed a relieved sigh and leaned over for you to peel the sheet mask off. Though he had very little skin left on his face, what was there was now glowing. "You look great!" You exclaimed, beaming. With an expression reminiscent of an exhausted single mom, Raiden wearily lifted the hand mirror again and studied himself. He looked at his radiant skin, pigtailed hair, and saw his glistening nails wrapped around the mirror's handle.

"I look...pretty." He muttered slowly, as if the words were some sort of ancient spell. "I look...very pretty."

"You do," You agreed, nodding proudly at your handiwork.

"Thanks," Raiden said, his voice very low. "This was...nice."

"Would you maybe like to do it again sometime next week?" You asked, hopefully. "We could make this a weekly thing--next time you could do my nails too."

"Sounds good," Raiden acceded, shrugging. "Next week's good." And with that, he put the mirror down, stood up, gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and hurried off, most likely to go admire himself secretly in front of the bathroom mirror.

[caffieneaddictt18]

Anything for you

*unedited*

As you're reading a book on different herbs and their uses, metaphysical and physical, you start to play with your hair. It kinda reminds you that the last time you had gotten your hair done was a while ago and it was so you're friend had a model for her graduating test from cosmetology school.

You set the book down and pull out your laptop, looking for hair services. Just a cute trim ans maybe a styling. You just want to feel cared for.

"Hey, honey. Whatcha doin?" Your partner comes over and kisses your cheek before going and starting the kettle, noticing the look on your face. You haven't read in a while and tea was always a great start to entering the 'reading zone' as they called it.

"Just lookin at something. I'm running low on Queen Anne's Lace." A simple little white lie. Shouldn't be too bad when you leave to go get your hair done.

"Oh, are you? I will leave you to it then." Your partner hands you your tea and kisses you again, on the lips, before going to their computer to play games.

You watch them carefully, drinking your tea and scrolling through until you find a place you like. You then put the laptop away, and take out the book you were reading. As you read, you jot down notes about apecific herbs and their uses.

Your partner sees this in the reflection of their glass case, and smirks.

---------‐--------------------------------------------

The next day, as your partner is in their office, you pass by in a comfy-cute outfit. "Hey, babes! I'm gonna go get my hair done!"

"Here you go, baby." Your partner gives you two hundred dollars, cash, that seemed to appear out of thin air.

You stop before you can pass the door and hesistantly take it. "Um... thank you, Baby." You slowly walk away and your partner smirks again. They get up and follow you to the garage.

As you're about to get in, they gently pin you against your car.

"Anytime, Honey~" and they hold your waist tightly as they mash their mouth against yours. They kiss you just long enough to make you feel dazed for a short while. When you finally part, they slowly and carefully open your door for you and get you in, buckling you up. They open the garage door as you start the car.

"Have fun, Baby!" They wave as you drive off to the salon.

When you get back, you show off your hair.

"You are stunning, Gorgeous." They gently take your hands in theirs and spin you, making your hair gently spin too.

----‐-------------------------------------------------

It has now been about a month since you got your hair done, and you still feel amazing.

As you are getting dressed for the day, complete with the evil eye pendant necklace and black bag, your partner speaks up.

"Hey, let's go get your nails done today. I'll pay." They casually just say it like it's no big deal. But this is the first time anyone has done this. It kind of is a big deal.

"Are you sure? Nail's aren't cheap. Especially the ones I like to get." You are hesitant about taking this offer, especially since they have already shelled out 200 just for your hair. It feels wrong somehow...

"Yeah. What about blue, like your necklace, in french tips? Or a dark blue that goes with your outfit and necklace?" They bring up ideas you haven't even thought of. Never would you ever think to do a blue French Tip nail set, let alone just painting your nails blue. You have painted your nails black, and white, and even a clear coat with sparkles in it for 2012 New Years. But never blue. Maybe they saw all the TikToks on women's nail colors and their meanings...

"Okay... if you're sure." You reluctantly agree. They seem happy that you're letting them spoil you.

"I'm sure, Darlin'." They gently caress your upper arms, trying to assure you; before gliding their fingertips down and bring your hands to their lips. Then you both head out the door, awaiting whatever adventures they have planned out.

------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, hun! What do you think about going to the mall?" You shout into the house, not ecpecting a response back.

"Sounds great, babe!" Their voice shouts back at you, "Let's get ready snd then we can go!" You see a figure move from a door and go into your bedroom.

As you both get into their car, your partner asks, "So... what's with the mall trip? I'm not upset. Just curious."

Trusting that your partner isn't upset, you tell them. "I haven't been in a while, so I just want to look around. Possibly grab a few things, but mostly window shop."

"Okay, Dove." They bring your hand up and kiss it as they watch the road, glancing at you whenever they can.

When you reach the mall, you enter and look around. Still has that same magic... Mall Magic.

You grab your partner's hand and take them to the food court first. If your hands are full, you won't get anything. So you grab a large lemonade, and they get a soft pretzel. You drag them through different stores, pointing out things. "Wow! I haven't seen that band in so long!" "Whoa! They actually have it in stock?! I haven't been able to find this anywhere!" "This is pretty."

Your partner takes notes of it all and tell you to go rest. Grab another lemonade and something to eat. "You've walked enough, baby. Now rest."

As you are eating your to-go salad and another lemonade, you see your partner.

And their full hands.

"Honey!" You rush to get up, and help them, "What did you do?!" You ask them, worried for their answer.

"I noticed what you bought and what you didn't. But the stuff I saw you look at, was the stuff I got." They smile and walk back to the table, arms lighter now.

"I thought you were on your phone." You look at them quizzically.

"I was. Writing down everything you liked but didn't buy. So I bought it for you." They smile and grab the chicken sandwhich & soda you bought for them.

"Baby... why have you been spoiling me? I'm grateful, but i don't understand why." You take another bite of your salad.

They sigh, setting down their food. This has just turned into a serious talk. "You can talk to me, Baby. What's going on?" You persist, wanting to find out what is plaguing your partner so much they felt like they had to spoil you.

"I... I just see the way you have been treating yourself recently. It's not the healthiest. You skipped dinner last night and then skipped breakfast this morning. You were going to skip lunch if I didn't have you get food. And you have been pushing yourself so hard... I don't ever want you to do that. I love you. I... I want you to love yourself the way I do." They look at you like a puppy with its tail between its legs, like it got caught doing something bad.

"Oh, baby..." You grab their face gently and kiss them even softer.

"Thank you..."

------------------------------------------------------

Author's Cup of Tea:

Okay. I know this isn't typically what I post, but I've been drawn to it like a moth to a flame, so i decided to finish it.

At 9:25 pm...

When I have work at 5 am...

(ihonestlyjustwantthistohappentome🤭imsorry)

[aquariumgirls]

more propaganda for my Boy...

(under the readmore + a description of his appearance if anyone needs one) @tmntaucompetition

Leo and Raphie walked serenely amongst the crowd, the onryō purposefully phasing through some of the alternate turtles just to watch them shiver. He stifled his laughter before climbing atop Raph's shell. He knew that he technically didn't weigh anything to her (not that he did when he was alive either) but she still made a soft huffing noise anyway.

Suddenly, his eyes landed upon a bright, shiny sign reading 'LOST AND FOUND'. His gaze fell upon a small turtle in purple. Another Donnie, perhaps? Though they sure didn't look like /his/ Donnie.

Actually, they kinda looked like a little kid. Leo had seen plenty of little turtles, but none seemed to be unaccompanied or alone...

Except for this one.

Leo quickly tapped Raphie's shoulder, pointing her towards the lost and found. He scuttled off of her shoulder and slowly approached the little Donnie.

"Heeey... Little buddy? You uh, lost?" He did his best to speak as gently as possible, not wanting to scare the child. He knew he probably /looked/ normal but kids were perceptive.

The little Donnie sniffled, tears gathering in his big, almost puppy-like eyes.

"Oh, um, hey don't cry! It's alright! I'll stay here with you until whoever you're looking for comes and finds you, yeah? I can paint your nails?" Leo sputtered, unused to being around crying children. The little turtle sniffled again but held out his hand towards Leo, who took it gently.

"You have cold hands." The little Donnie stated, but didn't let go.

"That's just a side effect of my coolness!" Leo mock whispered, as if it was some big secret.

Raphie plopped down on the floor next to Leo who was practically standing guard at the lost and found. She snickered a little before grabbing her phone and taking a picture.

[I.D FOR ONRYŌ LEO BEGINS HERE]

Leo in his 'regular' form looks almost the same as he does in the show, with only a few key differences. The color of his scales are desaturated except for his facial stripes, which have darkened slightly into a deeper red color. His yellow stripes have turned black.

His eyes are blue and red with the red being on his left side. He seems to shimmer with a ghostly blue light, and glows like his ninpō is permanently active. His canine teeth are much sharper, and he has pronounced claws.

His plastron and shell are also covered in small cracks.

In his 'real' form, he looks like how he did when he died.

His neck is broken, hanging permanently in a 90 degree angle (think of the crooked man from that one rpg horror game, ok?) with the bone warping his skin. His eyes are dull, and both are red.

His shell is completely concave, looking very much like a totaled car. His right leg is shattered with a large metal pole sticking through it, and his plastron has multiple small holes and large cracks. His claws are much longer and larger, and a black sludge continuously oozes from his mouth + eyes. He is perpetually covered in blood, and his left arm is severed. (it still floats near his body.)

[remyfire]

houlintyre + begging

(prompts now closed) I think a normal amount about them (lie)

"I don't have to stay," Margaret points out while she's still holding the door open behind her.

McIntyre looks at her over his shoulder with a crooked, toothy grin. "You sure don't."

It's not exactly what she needs to hear to knock down her final reservations. The last thing she expected to accompany her three-day pass to Seoul was a handsome, insufferable, skirt-chasing, charming, brilliant, rule-breaking, incredibly compassionate asshole. But this is how things go for her now, it seems. She'll make a plan. She'll be thrilled to bits about it. It'll be dashed into pieces on the ground. And then right when she's ready to throw in the towel and go sulk for a night, something will happen. Kind of like McIntyre letting her grit out all of her frustrations about Frank while he drove them the whole way, only interjecting from time to time to wind her up again with yet another thing Frank had done—how McIntyre knew that four months ago, Frank spilled an entire bottle of nail polish on her favorite pair of underwear, she'll never know.

Perhaps she should really be focusing on that. And not the way that McIntyre is watching her, his gaze full of the invitation that slipped off his tongue when they were only a mile out from Seoul. Just long enough to leave her stirred up, just short enough that she hasn't gotten her good sense back yet to remember why she can't have something that's left an undercurrent of hunger beneath a persistent blanket of irritation.

He stares her down for a long moment, both of them caught in the standoff, before he scoffs out a chuckle and shakes his head. While he loosens his tie, he drawls. "All right, let's lay it all out on the table, huh? You don't have to stay, that's right. And I don't need you to stay. There's a dozen gals at the bar next door who'll get in my bed for nothin' more than a wink. I ain't desperate." But as an ugly tightness locks her ribs shut in a vice, McIntyre turns to face her head on and speaks over her irritation. "Neither one of us needs you to be here. But that doesn't mean I want you to go either. Yeah, if you walk out that door, I'll have another girl flat on her back in ten minutes." He pauses. When his eyelashes flutter—a single twitch—it's the first moment that he's looked anything but unflappable. "But you're the one I'm gonna be thinkin' about when I'm inside her."

It's like she overturned a hot cup of tea. One moment, she's bristling and cold. The next, she's flushed from head to toe. Has he done that before with any of those hundreds of nurses he chases like a dog? When he's rocking against one, does he bury his face in her neck and imagine the hair tickling his cheek is blonde?

The image feeds the selfish sectors of her heart. He's an animal who'd take any scraps that a woman might offer him as long as he gets to have a taste. But as unpicky as he is about whoever ends up under him...he'll still pick her to be the one he's having all the same.

Margaret licks her lips, though she knows it might ruin their painted color. She's restless. Wanton. And as if McIntyre sees it, he saunters forward, his tie loose around his neck, his two top buttons open to expose the edge of his collarbone above his undershirt. She doesn't move a muscle. But she doesn't need to. He reaches above her without breaking the eye contact and pushes the door shut so she leans into it. After another thoughtful moment, he clicks the lock shut, then stays just like that. Looming. Watching. Starving.

"Kiss me," she commands in a throaty murmur, and he sinks his fingers into her hair as he darts downward.

As McIntyre coaxes her lips to part, to let his tongue slip between them, Margaret grabs fistfuls of his jacket, this fancy dress uniform that he has no right to wear. It's a parody of a costume on him. He's done nearly everything in the book to disgrace this outfit. And yet in some strange way, that ignites her further—that old spark of fledgling rebellion that overtook her in her first year of freedom at college. The desire for her father to be proud of her in everything she did versus the temptation to pierce her ears and flirt with twenty guys with fast cars all at the same time. Her father would despise John McIntyre, would practically revere Frank Burns in comparison. But McIntyre's the boy she would've let crawl in her dorm window and fuck her whether Lorraine, on the other side of the room, woke up or not.

His other hand finds her waist, and as it slips under her jacket, he tucks his fingers just beneath the waistband of her skirt, an act of easy possession. And all at once, she needs far, far more.

Margaret hums out a rush of frenetic sound as she pushes away from the door and McIntyre breaks the kiss with a laugh that he quickly swallows as he gets a good look at her face. She drives him backward step by step to the rhythm of her panting until she shoves him down on his futon, then shrugs off her dress uniform's jacket in one smooth motion. He follows her lead, yanking his own away so he's down to his shirtsleeves, and though Margaret intends to get a bit more comfortable, she's only toed off one high heel when she notices the thick swell down McIntyre's right pant leg. A hurricane overtakes her. One moment, she's standing tall, and the next she's straddling him, her other heel dangling helplessly from her foot before finally plummeting.

At first McIntyre goes for her shirt buttons, but Margaret grunts as she wiggles on her knees to push her tightly-fitted skirt up, and the moment he sees this, his eyes go as wide as saucers. "Touch me." Margaret intends for that to come out like an order but it's tinged with a breathy ache, and perhaps he hears this because he moves instantly into action.

She isn't sure if this is what he must have fantasized about however many times he palmed himself to thoughts of having her—maybe he thought it'd be a slow seduction, a loosening of her nervous limbs little by little—but she can't slow down, can't think twice, can't come to her senses when he's right here. No one's going to knock on the door. There aren't going to be choppers. And as McIntyre touches the back of his knuckles to her inner thigh, she feels them as potently as flames straight through her nylon stockings.

He drags them slowly upward as he locks her in place with his brown sugar gaze. She fumbles for stability. When she sinks her fingers into his shoulder, he trembles. The world's shrunk down to the two of them having the most unfathomably irresponsible encounter they could. The moment they're back in camp, this secret space will evaporate entirely, and they'll snark and bite at each other all over again. This is madness. They really shouldn't.

She is not going to stop him. Not for a second.

She holds her breath as he finds the first hint of bare skin, squeezes him tighter as he makes her wait. "McIntyre..." A gasp breaks from her when he moves inward. It comes in a one-two punch—the firm grind of his palm's heel down the length of her, then the sudden press of his thumb right against her clitoris. Even through the fabric and her swollen folds, he sparks a rush of adrenaline.

It's rare that Margaret is this clothed when a man fondles her. All of her father's old Army friends, they love when she's nude in their bed. She draws a sort of power from their smoldering lust as they take in a taut, youthful figure, softer skin than their wife's. For his part, Frank is restless once he has her undressed, his hands and body rolling over all of her curves like a summer storm. But this? It's filthy. She's soaking through her panties in a rush as McIntyre's thumb teases her.

A single barely audible whine croaks free. It charms a growl out of him in turn, and as he pulls her close so he can mouth at her neck, she shudders and slides her fingers through his tight curls.

"C'mon, honey, lemme hear it," he whispers hotly against her throat. It's already unfair that he has the most beautiful hands she's ever seen, but his drawl? That's sinful all on its own. "Give it to me, gimme those pretty sounds I know you've got, huh?"

But beneath his tone, there's something else. An edge of desperation. And that in and of itself is fascinating. She would've expected him to be far more confident, maybe even mocking her for finally breaking for him the second they're away from their colleagues. "You want it that badly?" Margaret's voice trembles as she murmurs the words.

McIntyre straightens up, and though it jostles her, he tightens his arm around her waist so she can arch her back and give his clever, rubbing thumb better access. "Oh, you know I do."

"Ask me nicely," she whispers, "and I'll consider it."

He lets out a groan that's so raw, she can feel her skin tingling in sympathy, almost pained. When he rests his lips on the swell of her breast, she begins to tighten her grip on his hair. "I need it, baby." Margaret tugs a fistful of curls and his words go raspy in its wake. "Lemme know how good I'm making it, I gotta hear."

Margaret smothers his face in her chest as she puts her mouth to his ear and releases a whisper-thin, quivering moan.

"Fuuuck..." He rocks under her, not finding any stimulation, just chasing the phantom desire to be inside of her, and it emboldens her further.

"I want you to feel how wet I am," she breathes.

He presses the edge of his teeth through her blouse, lets them dig into the top of her breast. "Uh-huh..." Though she expects him to unhook her garter belt so he can slide her panties down, he shoves them roughly aside like he can't wait another second, like he's going to fuck her right now, and Margaret throws her head back as he rubs his softly-calloused thumb along her slick labia. "Oh, fuck, honey, you're dripping for me."

She loses all sense of language for a few seconds, can only nod as he lights a chain of pleasure through her body. She's not only dripping, she's throbbing, every inch of her swollen and flush with hot blood until she thinks just a stiff breeze might make her moan.

"You're gonna tell me what you need, aincha?" he asks, a little stronger now.

"Mm—" Margaret squeezes her eyes shut. She wants everything, wants to shove him on his back and mount his face, wants him to roll her over and take her like an animal, wants to know if he could pick her up and bruise her by pounding her into the wall. "Ohh, I-I... Inside me?"

The last thing she wanted it to be is a question. It makes him chuckle—makes her want to slap his shoulder, really—but he slips two fingers close to her entrance, and when she shakes with a wave of anticipation, he appears to take note of it. There's a fine line between men who think that all she wants is to be fucked and men who understand that the nerves around and just barely inside of her hole are sometimes just as sensitive as her clitoris. And as McIntyre rubs a teasing, slow circle around her even as she's practically trying to suck him in, she knows to the depths of her that he's figuring it out much, much faster than anyone ever has.

"Please..." She shapes the word but doesn't quite say it.

"What's that, doll?" he growls.

"Please?" Again with the curve of her voice, the faint pathetic wobble.

He dips just the tip of his middle finger inside of her, then slips out again, drawing every ounce of her attention to that area as she gasps. "Say it."

"Bastard," she grits out, then whines when he takes his hand completely off of her. "No! No, I-I want... I want your fingers inside of me."

McIntyre hums as he covers her heat with his whole palm and rubs back and forth, vibrating faster than an idling jeep, torturing her with sparks through her veins like the remnants of fireworks. "Say it again. Make me sweat this time."

God, he's the most evil man alive. Sweat? Yes. Yeah, she can do that. Margaret arches her back once more as she looks down at him, watches his gaze slowly drag up from her breasts to her face. "Trapper," she murmurs, watching his pupils dilate further immediately and his cheeks flush. "Do you know what I need from you?"

"What?" he whispers.

"When you touch yourself while you think of me..." She pauses, immediately has those suspicions confirmed when his mouth falls open. "...when you think about how badly you want to fill me..." His fingers dig into her hip hard enough to bruise. "...I need to know what that feels like. I need you to fuck me with your fingers just like you're going to fuck me with your cock."

The groan that her words pull from him is filled with agony. "That I can do," he murmurs raspily just before he presses two fingers inside of her.

A shiver rolls up her spine. "Yes, yes, mmm—" Margaret squeezes her eyes shut as she rolls her hips, teases that extra sensation out around his knuckles as he works his digits deeper. He has a spooky way of picking up on the nuances of when her breath hitches, if her lips part, what makes her gasp out a shocked moan.

"Margaret, you are somethin' else." She can hear the smirk when he speaks. "Yeah, that's what you like. Nice, long strokes, huh?" She's not quite capable of speaking quite yet—is too fixated on the tiny shifts of his fingers like he's conducting the most thorough experiment of his career. "Remind me, honey, this is about how wide what Ferret Face's packing is, ain't it? A little under, maybe?"

The realization that McIntyre must have seen Frank when he's erect hits her like a lightning bolt, leaving strange bubbles in her gut and a squirming curiosity that turns her beet red as she looks down at him. "What?"

That boyish grin lights up his whole face with a particular satisfaction. "S'okay, you don't hafta say it. It's all over your face." But when he pushes a third finger inside of her with no warning, he hums at how she throws her whole body backward, only her grip on his shoulders keeping her stable. "Don't worry, doll. We'll get you up to taking my cock."

"Oh God, you're huge, aren't you?" She doesn't quite mean to say the words out loud, but even she can hear the sharp hunger that colors them.

McIntyre groans. "You'll see. You'll fuckin' see, all right. Hold tight for me, don't let go." She only gets that second of warning before he releases his hold on her waist and finds her clit with his free hand.

"Ohh!" Margaret can barely hold herself up now. How the hell are her muscles supposed to not turn into jelly? It's like he's been holding back until this very moment, compiling all his data and letting it loose to pound into her with his long, thick fingers while rubbing perfect circles over her clit. "Oh my God please don't stop—" All one quick breath.

"You're gonna come for me, Margaret," McIntyre murmurs with that cocky, sexy drawl of his. He's playing her like a fiddle. "You're gonna come so hard, you're gonna soak my fingers, 'cause you're thinking about every inch of my cock filling you up 'til you scream."

Bastard, bastard, he's right, he's put it all in her head now, a rainy midnight where he lets himself into her tent and locks the door, where he strips down and pulls the blanket off of her, where his slick body holds her down and his mouth swallows her moans and he gives it to her just like she needs, splitting her in two over and over again, "Yes, yes, yes, oh God, yes, don't stop don't stop—" She's quaking inside, melting down from a solid block of ice into a rippling puddle.

His voice comes from a great distance. "You're gonna ride my face, squeeze me with those soft thighs 'til I can't breathe anymore. Gonna leave my fingers sore from how greedy you are for me to make you come over and over again. Fuck, Margaret, I want you to wring me out. Tell me what you want. Let me give it to you."

"Just like that," she whimpers out, gasps, tries again, "just like that, McIntyre, fuck..."

"Come for me, please, sweetheart, fuck, lemme see it." His confidence twists with another taste of desperation that ignites her, and as his words turn into nothing but senseless noise, Margaret cries out and clenches around his digits, feels her whole body lurch when he growls and fucks her even harder through her release. Her mind fogs over with a blanket of tingling ecstasy that washes through her again, again, hovering right there at her peak until it burns, and only then does she shove at his shoulders.

He goes straight back like she slammed into him with the force of a car, taking her with him. He leaves her sensitive folds alone. Lets her shake it all out with another rough moan that feels as though it blooms from her very muscle fibers. When Margaret finds it within herself to open her eyes, he's gaping up at her like she's a goddess who came down from the skies to use him up until he breaks.

Oh yes. This is absolutely the worst idea she's ever had. She has set herself up for the most twisting, complicated pathway in camp—needing him to fuck her as often as possible, already knowing he's going to take full advantage of that the next time he and Pierce get a silly little notion in their skulls. But that sounds like a problem for Major Houlihan. Margaret is lushly content right now, her muscles still clenching like they're trying to milk him dry in the midst of her aftershocks.

"McIntyre?" she drawls out, husky as can be.

"Yeah?" He looks like he can barely breathe, much less speak.

Margaret tosses the hair out of her face and wiggles, getting the last of her body to relax, feeling the clothes sticking to her with sweat. She'll need to get all those off. Maybe a shower. Maybe a good fuck in the shower. "Mm...you all right?"

McIntyre nods wildly, his voice pained. "Oh, y'know."

He's probably about to burst through his trousers. Poor thing. She wonders if he has condoms in his suitcase, if she'll have to send him to buy some while he's visibly hard as nails. It gives her a little thrill to imagine that. She smirks lazily and draws a loose pattern on his chest with the tip of her finger. "I need a moment to breathe." She bites her bottom lip and watches his eyes follow the motion. "And then...I'll see what I'm going to do with you."