sometimes I see stupid comments in different places of this fandom about adding lipstick on (mostly male ofc) characters, so it inspires me to draw/sketch this kind of stuff, hehe.. ( @marinette-buginette omg, sorry hahah)
Adrien had so fab (fight me if pink doesnt suit him) lipstick after one photo shoot, so lately he couldnt stop himself to share with his friends.. in his way, pffidk what am i doing
@taylor-tut tHIS IS SO LATE I’M SO SORRY MY FAB FRIENDO! But! It has finally arrived!! I’m sorry if it’s a bit crappy, I like haven’t slept in three days haha
anyhoo, onto the story:
Lance woke up with a
He blinked his eyes
open, immediately groaning at the light that pierced through his eyeballs and
into his temples. He brought an arm up to shield his face, shivering slightly.
Taking a deep breath, Lance conducted a mental survey of his condition, assessing
his apparently numerous ailments that seem to have manifested overnight.
that dissolved into a throbbing headache that pulsed outward with each
throat, and lungs that rattled with every inhale? Check.
sensation of being completely, bone-numbingly cold despite the warmth and
clamminess of his limbs? Checkerooni.
is gonna suck.
If Lance were to be
perfectly honest with himself, he would concede that he had been feeling off these last couple days. Nevertheless, the
team needed his 100% right now, and any wooziness he may have felt had to be
put on the backburner. With several months having passed without any sign of
Shiro, tensions within the castle were palpable. Keith and Pidge seemed inches away from
snapping at any given moment, Allura’s training schedule seemed to have been
kicked up the several notches from “very harsh” to “dear god I
can taste my own pulse”, and even Hunk and Coran seemed somewhat subdued.
It was the least Lance could do to try and keep up, and make sure the other’s
stayed optimistic. He was the joker, the sharpshooter - it was his role, no
matter how taxing it could be on his own body.
himself, counting down from five, before swinging out of his bed, pausing to
lean against the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Once the
tilt-a-whirl he usually called a bedroom settled to a soft swaying, Lance began
to make his way down to the dining hall.
char is a goddess, and it is still her birthday (thank u time difference)
airport au, based on this, but not 100% similar. enjoy :)
“Yeah, dad, it’s only a short delay, I should be arriving at 7 or so,” Stiles said, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he scoured the crowded airport for a free outlet. “No, dad, you don’t need to pick me up, I can catch a cab home, I’ll be fine.”
“You think I’d let my only son take a cab home after I haven’t seen him for a year?” his dad’s tinny voice rang out sharply over the line, and Stiles smiled fondly. “I don’t know who you’ve been hanging around with, son, but I’m picking you up, and that’s the end of that. I even made sure they gave me the night off.”
“That’s great dad,” Stiles told him honestly, before his eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of a free outlet next to… was that Derek Hale? “I’ll see you tonight,” he blurted out, heading over to get a closer look at the sleeping guy. “Holy shit.”
“Language,” the Sheriff reprimanded, and Stiles winced.
“Sorry, dad. I gotta go, ‘kay? Love you,” he said absently, settling his backpack down onto the ground and unslinging his messenger bag from his shoulders, cursing silently when the strap got tangled in his earphones.
“Yeah, love you too, kid. Have a safe trip.”
At the sound of the click, Stiles ripped his earbuds out and fumbled to untangle them when his bag’s strap slid a few inches in his grasp, knocking against Derek’s bent knees. “Shit,” he breathed out, eyes wide and horrified. He waited for a few moments, unmoving, before letting out a relieved breath when Derek didn’t wake. He folded himself down a few steps away, cursing the fact that he had left his extension cord back in Beacon Hills, and his charger was unfortunately short, rendering him incapable of moving further out and admiring Derek from after, like he used to.
He let out a sigh at the thought of his first few years of high school. Derek had been the basketball team captain, two years older than Stiles, and the only reason he hadn’t tried out for the team was the burning fear that he’d trip Derek up by accident during the tryouts and spend the rest of his high school career eating his lunch next to the dumpsters. Sarcastic and terrifying tended to be Stiles’ type, evidenced by one Lydia Martin and Derek himself.
Although, looking down at Derek now, his lashes dark smudges against his cheeks and his mouth shut in a little pout looking all sleepy and adorable, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell that Derek had allegedly got the 6’6” football quarterback to cry and apologize to Jessica Rawlings, a girl in Stiles’ year. Last he heard, Derek had gone off to the East Coast for college, following the footsteps of all his older siblings.
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader Rating: Explicit Genre: Domestic Tae smuuuuut Word count: Not enough 1,891
Summary: Taehyung is completely enraptured by the way the light makes your skin glow and can’t resist the urge the feel the beauty of it against his fingertips.
A/N: FOR MY LOVE @taechulo WHO I PROMISED TO WRITE THIS FOR LIKE FOREVER AGO <333333 Okay but smut is hard for me??? Idk why??? So I’m sorry if this isn’t super fab ;u; I also very briefly edited this cause I’m lazy (psst there’s probably a lot of grammar errors oh well)
When dawn first peeked through the blinds, blanketing you in a golden hue, he fought back the urge to reach out and touch you for Taehyung wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. It took a lot of self-control, but he refrained from doing so - you needed your rest; the night prior had been long and rigorous, fuelled by too much wine and desire. But the longer he looked you over; completely mesmerised by the way you glowed as though you were a deity, the more Taehyung couldn’t resist the urge any longer and allowed his hand to find purchase on your shoulder.
He had started off just ghosting the pads of his fingers along the length of your upper arm, slow and gentle, then carrying on to the remaining parts still left untouched. A shiver crawls up your spine every time his nails scratch the smooth expanse of your bare waist while his fingers trace your curves. It causes small bumps to litter your flesh, accompanied by a soft whine and the flutter of your lashes and he holds his breath, stills his movements and smiles in silent amusement when you do not wake.
Courf decides to instigate a rap off as an excuse to show off his skills (he just got really into Hamilton.) and the following ensues:
Bahorel: knows Biggie like the back of his hand.
JBM: can rap huge chunks in perfect unison. Everyone is especially shocked by Bossuet.
Jehan: asks if slam poetry counts as rap. It is unanimously agreed that it doesn’t.
R: learns really childish raps about climate change just to piss Enjolras off but when E calls him out on it he stares him straight in the eyes and drops this . Enjolras really doesn’t know how to react but hes kinda turned on
Combeferre: gets teased (all in good nature of course) because he’s black but can’t rap. Eventually he just calmly takes of his glasses and stands up and drops Nicki’s Monster verse. Courf melts.
Feuilly and Enjolras do not rap. they refuse outright.