#not everything has to be perfect and pretty and neat and gentle

[youlookkindadead]

I LOVE WHEN MEDIA MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE!!! I LOVE WHEN A MEDIA KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT!!! I LOVE WHEN A MEDIA MAKES ME THINK ABOUT THINGS I'D NEVER EVEN CONSIDERED BEFORE!!! I LOVE WHEN A MEDIA BREAKS DOWN MY ENTIRE WORLD VIEW!!! I LOVE WHEN A MEDIA MAKES ME COME TO TERMS WITH A REALITY I DIDN'T WANNA FACE!!!

[lovemomhatepolice]

jude bellingham nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Oh, Jude is very adhesive after sex. He likes to cuddle with you until you both fall asleep. He places gentle kisses on your head, shoulders and arms, in fact wherever he can. He always talks to you for a long time, whether everything was okay, how you feel, if you need anything…. Well, Jude is a great guy

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Jude is well aware that he is damn handsome. And not since he started being famous, oh no, Jude was already aware of that before. However, what he likes most about himself is his face, I think. He really likes the fact that he is similar with his family, which is so important to him, and he likes his looks. He is very fond of his dark brown eyes and his lips, which, according to him, have the perfect shape (to kiss you!!). As far as you are concerned, I think Jude is definitely an ass man. Of course, he loves your breasts, but your ass is definitely something Jude always looks past when he sees you. He loves to squeeze it, kiss it, everything, really. He always has his hands on her when you're somewhere together, and he's not ashamed to show it. Unfortunately, on the contrary, sometimes you have to correct him so he doesn't get caught up. And besides, he loves your whole face. He thinks everything matches perfectly - your nose size, eye color and lip shape, ay, this boy is drowning.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Jude Bellingham looks like a total creampie fan. I think he repeatedly stopped his seed at your entrance to watch it mix with your juices and slowly leave your body. But I also think he's too delicate to let his cum linger on your face, which is why he's not a fan of it. Even if you asked, there's no chance he'll let himself cum in your face

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) I think he likes it when you take the initiative. He often does a lot on his own, but the sight of you having fun with him in a way that no one else has ever done before, god. Jude is already on his knees and begging for more

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Nah, Jude is not very experienced. Well, after all, he's only 21 years old and hasn't scored any major ones on his relationship record. Therefore, everything you experience together is quite new to him. It was with you that he lost his virginity and began to discover what he likes and what he doesn't quite like But nevertheless he is a fast learner, he has become so skilled that if you met him for the first time, you would not be able to say that he is a fresher in these matters

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Jude likes to have you on top. Really, that's why the cowgirl position is just right for him. He likes you to take the initiative, however, alone from below he can also do a lot, especially since compared to him, you are in his hands like a feather. Another option is standing up - as I mentioned before, Jude is a fan of sex in the shower, so the standing option had to be practiced to perfection to make both of you comfortable and perfect

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) It depends on the moment. Jude is hardly a person who is against any jokes in bed or giggles, on the contrary, it even happens to him often. However, when your sex is heavily geared towards romance and the heat rising around your bodies, he rather tries to be serious and committed to the situation

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I think Jude is not completely shaved, but it is trimmed so that it is neat and not too much. He has dark curly hair, so I'm betting he has that all over his body too, so it might be hard to eliminate it. As for you, I think similarly. Either completely shaved or trimmed so that everything is neat and not too much.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Bellingham can be truly romantic. He may not look like it, but he loves to plan your entire evening. First take you out for an expensive dinner with wine, then prepare you a joint bath with petals of your favorite flowers, followed by the intense sex you've both been waiting for all day. And then long conversations in bed and gentle touches...

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) This often happens to him - mainly due to the fact that you often don't see each other through his constant trips to matches and life in other countries. He's not averse to pornographic movies, but since you've been together, he tends not to watch them. You prefer to connect together on the webcam and experience it from a distance, or he copes by simply thinking about the fact that you could be you next to him…

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Honestly, I can't find any sensible kink to match Jude. He does not seem to be a person who is drawn in any particular direction. Maybe a creampie? Hm, I think he could watch with fascination as your shared juices of fulfillment come out of you…. Oh, and combined it with breeding kink? Well, what? He's young, but he can definitely see you with a pregnant belly in your future home together in Madrid

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Shower. Jude Bellingham shouts shower. Or possibly a bathtub, but definitely something on the toilet. I honestly don't know why, but it's what I associate with so damn much. Sex after the game? In the toilet. Sex with romantic candles and rose petals? In the bathtub. Sex without any occasion? In the shower. Well, don't say no. Jude definitely looks like a man who loves to take a bath together with you, and the opportunity to get close is even better

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) After the match. I don't know why. It's just that after a match, Jude is always, and I mean always, somehow more horny, and that's when you turn him on the most. Whether it's won or lost, Jude just needs to have his girlfriend in his arms after it Or the other option that turns him on is you in mini dresses. Well begging, the boy is already on his knees in front of you (or rather, behind you too)

A/N: next part will be here soon! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[luveline]

I don’t really have a request I just love anything you write💗 maybe something with girly!reader?

thanks lovely💗

Spencer wrings his hands behind his back, shifting from one foot to the other unhappily. He hasn't felt this nervous since he was young —his PhDs have acted as a shield for years now. Even if he doesn't know what to do, he physically cannot be stupid. 

He feels pretty stupid. Less when you look up, smile blinding and sticky with gloss. He's thought about how it would feel to kiss you before and he tries desperately to push the thought away now, his hands shaking where they're hidden. 

"Hey, Spencer Reid," you say, lightly teasing as you wave him toward you. "How are you?" 

"I'm good." 

"Yeah?" You gesture at the empty seat in front of you. "Are you having lunch?" 

The bureau cafeteria is less of a cafeteria in the kitchen sense and more of a staff room, though hot food is served at the very back. There are couches toward the patio of an outdoor area to the left. You sit at one of the tables near the doors. The air is cold around his ankles as he sits with you. 

"No, I– I came down for coffee, but the jug is empty." It's a bad lie. Luckily you have no idea that there's a kitchen in the BAU offices. "You're not?" 

You turn your laptop screen to him. "I ate my lunch at my desk. I'm just catching up with my show." Your laptop has stickers around the screen, silver shiny stars and tiny pink hearts that look like they're made of jelly. There's a closed bottle of nail polish resting near the keyboard. "And I'm gonna touch up my nails, too. They're always chipping." 

"They look perfect to me," Spencer says. 

You beam at him, beatific, so, so pretty, he could die. He might. "Thanks, honey. You'd look cute with painted nails, have you ever thought about it?" 

Spencer honestly forgets about his nails. He should take better care of them. He thinks about hiding them under the desk. "I don't think I could do it." 

"No one's good at it, at first. I'd paint them for you, if you wanted. I have a couple of things in my bag." 

Spencer's relieved to present freshly trimmed nails to you for painting. Your polish is a light blue colour, milky, and he assumes it'll be the one you use on him, but you decide to ruin his life, taking his hand into one of yours. You hold his fingers in a way that presents the nail as you brush cuticle oil around the edges of his nails with a small pen brush. You chatter as you do in your way, all sweet and gentle in mirror of your touch. 

He's proud of himself for keeping his cool. To have you touching him for so long, so kindly, to have your attention, it has him squirming with a mixture of pleasure and horror. He wants to be seen by you but he doesn't know if he likes what you're looking at. 

"You have really lovely hands," you say, using the tip of one of your nails to scrape stray wet polish off of his skin, "do you play piano?" 

"You can tell?" he asks. 

"Pianist's fingers," you say. "That's a thing, isn't it?" 

"I haven't played much since I was younger. I got distracted by other stuff." 

"Maths," you surmise. "And criminology?" 

Everything. He pushed away a want for human connection with books and education until it got too much. Even the wisest of honeybees will brave heavy rain for a beautiful flower, and that's sort of how he feels about you. He knows it's stupid, knows it's doomed, but he couldn't not try to speak to you. You're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, all your lip colours and shimmery eyeshadows, the chirpy way you talk, the earnestness of your please and thank yous. 

Your hands. The silver ring on your index finger dotted with tiny pink stones. Your bracelets. The smell of your perfume and your soft sweaters. 

"Done," you announce, an uncharacteristic hesitance to your tone. "Are they okay?" 

You've done a perfect job. "They're so neat. Thank you. I– I love it." 

Your eyes linger on his hands. "I love when guys wear nail polish. You're even handsomer now, it's crazy. I didn't know it was possible." 

Spencer should have more style for sure, but he asks you to dinner right then and there. 

You smile until the lashes kiss in the corners of your eyes and say yes. This new place opened just around the corner from your apartment, and you've been trying to drum up the courage to ask him all week. When Spencer hears that he almost passes out. 

[spiicii]

jey uso / nsfw alphabet

x fem!reader  word count → 2.2k links → masterlist summary → my first shot at writing (i can't believe this man has driven me to write), lots of smut and dirty talk beneath the cut, read at your own risk

A = Aftercare 

Jey is always so sweet to you. No matter how rough the sex was, he’s always quick to take care of you. He’s gentle as he cleans you up, murmuring soft praises and soothing words. After he’s sure you’re good, he crawls into bed beside you, pulling you close. He’s a cuddler and will keep you close to his chest all night. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) 

He’s worked hard for his body and is especially proud of his shoulders and arms. He loves it when you rub your fingers across his tattoos, admiring the artwork and marveling at the strong muscles that can lift you with ease. 

He loves every inch of you, but he's obsessed with your thighs. It doesn’t matter where you are, he’s going to find a way to grab them, smack them, or even place his hand over them possessively when he’s sitting next to you. He especially loves the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his head as he eats you out. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As much as he loves cumming inside you, he loves it more when you let him cum on your face. There’s just something about you on your knees, your pink tongue outstretched as he marks you up that drives him crazy. Once he’s finished, he’ll run his fingers through your hair and praise you for how good you’ve been for him. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wasn’t going to see you for weeks and he would miss you. At least, that’s the excuse he gave when he stole a pair of used panties from your dirty clothes to take with him on the road. He’d never done anything like that before and he blamed the intoxicating smell of your pussy as the only thing that could have driven him to do something so filthy. He didn’t get many chances to jerk off while on the road, but when he did, he was sure to sneak the panties from his suitcase and press his nose into the lace to remind himself of you. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s always been an attractive man and has plenty of experience. Most of his partners have been pretty vanilla, so he’s not super experienced in the kinkier side of things, but he’s pretty open-minded. If you bring up something he’s never heard of before, he’d be willing to do some research and learn more about it. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves doggy-style (better access to your thighs and ass), but he really can’t get enough of fucking you in missionary. He wants to see your pretty face and loves watching your eyes glaze over as he drills in and out of you. He’ll kiss you as he grinds deep into you, his mouth a hot brand against yours, the kiss deep and possessive. He wants you to feel all of him and take everything he has to give you. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Look, Jey’s a goofy guy. One of the reasons you fell for him was because he knows how to make you laugh. Still, he’s not silly all the time. Some nights he’s sweet and romantic, making sure to take his time and treat you right. Other times he’ll get that dark, possessive look in his eyes and you know that you're in for a long night. 

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not completely clean-shaven, but he likes to keep everything neat and tidy. He treats it like his beard: he likes it a certain way and doesn’t like to change it. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It all depends on his mood. Some nights he’ll pepper your body with sweet kisses, nothing but honeyed praise on his lips as he takes care of you. 

Fuck, you’re perfect.  I could spend all night tasting you, mamas.  Let me spoil you, baby. 

Then there are other nights. Nights where something will have him feeling frustrated or pent-up. Whatever the reason, you usually end up on all fours, his large hand fisted in your hair as he pistons in and out of you from behind, spitting filthy praise as he uses you. 

Yeah, you like that, don’t you?  Gonna make you cum on this dick, pretty girl.  So fucking tight. You like being used by your daddy? 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Whenever he’s away from you for weeks at a time, he takes whatever opportunity he can to call you. He wants to hear how much you miss him, how badly you need him. This is the only time he’ll do phone sex, when he misses you so fucking bad and only has your voice to get him going. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Loves pulling your hair. Doesn’t matter if he’s hitting it from the back and grabbing you by the hair so you can’t hide your face in the pillow or tightening a fistful of your hair in his hand as he fucks the back of your throat. He loves the way your eyes flutter as he tugs at your scalp, how your mouth falls open and the sweetest little groans spill out of you. 

Usually prefers to take control and loves how much you trust him to take care of you. That being said, there are some (very rare) nights where he wants you to take care of him. On those nights, he’s content letting you call the shots and sub for you. If you praise him and tell him about how good he’s being he might spontaneously combust. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Isn’t a huge exhibitionist and prefers to fuck you in the comfort and privacy of his room. He likes to take his time with you, so a large bed and soundproof walls are preferred. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you in any outfit that highlights your ass and thighs will immediately get him going. He’ll even get a little possessive if he knows you’re going out in an outfit that shows off your body. 

Whoa, whoa, where do you think you’re going, baby? Nobody should get to see this perfect body but me.

He’s easily riled up, so it doesn’t take much to get him going. Literally anything you could do to him could get him in the mood.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Isn’t a fan of exhibitionism (privacy is important to his career) so he doesn’t take risks like that. 

He doesn’t mind you dishing out some punishment to him (he takes beatings for a living), but he would never do anything to hurt you. To him, there’s a difference between being rough and actually hurting you. He’s a lot stronger than you and sometimes he might leave the accidental bruise or mark. He’s always so sweet and apologetic, no matter how small the mark is or how much you reassure him. You’re his perfect angel and he would never want to hurt you, even if you wanted it. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I don’t care what anyone says, this man is a MUNCH. He’s obsessed with the way you taste and could spend hours between your legs, his mouth latched to your clit, his arms slung across your hips to keep you pinned to the bed. He would wring orgasm after orgasm from your shaking body, lapping at the sweet nectar dripping out of you like it’s his last meal on earth. 

He loves it when you give him head, mostly so he can keep his hands in your hair and watch as you worship his cock. He’s usually sweet when he praises you, urging you to take what you want, allowing you to control the pace. He’s only fucking your throat when he’s in a mood. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His default pace is usually slow and sensual. He likes to take his time with you and enjoy the ride, spending hours taking you apart and putting you back together again.

BUT

Jey’s an emotional guy. He’s known as a hothead and has a bit of a temper. When he comes home from a rough day at work or someone says the wrong thing to him, he might prefer to come to you to get some pent-up energy out. On days like that, he’s fucking you so fast and rough that you probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not a huge fan of quickies, especially if it means he won’t be somewhere where you’ll be comfortable like a bed. He wants to spoil you and make you feel good, not fuck in a supply closet where you’ll be cramped and uncomfortable. He doesn’t mind sneaking away for a little make out session, but he usually won’t go any further than that. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He would never risk his career or do anything in public, but anything else he’d be willing to try for you. He’s a pretty open-minded guy and would be willing to experiment with something new if you wanted it. He probably wouldn’t be the one to introduce anything new into your sex life, but he’ll try (almost) anything once. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man is an athlete in peak condition. He has a high stamina and sex drive, more than happy to go multiple rounds with a short refractory period. He’d never push you further than you’re able to go and always wants to put your comfort first. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any toys but wouldn’t be opposed to you bringing them into the bedroom. He might be a bit skeptical of them at first (might even tease you about a few) but if you wanted to use them, he wouldn’t be against it. 

The very first time you brought in toys, it was a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs. He thought they were for you at first and was shocked when you said they were for him instead. After some jokes (this man ALWAYS has jokes) he finally agreed to let you handcuff him to the headboard. He would never tell anyone, but he’d never finished so quickly in his life. Needless to say, you certainly use this knowledge to your advantage whenever he let you take control.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s soooo cocky, even when he’s being sweet, and will tease you for hours on end. Loves to see you fall apart under his tongue or listen to you beg him for more more more. 

Yeah, yeah, need your daddy, huh? So fucking spoiled, aren’t you, little girl? 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not over the top loud, but he can get vocal. When he’s deep inside you and grinding into your gummy walls, you’ll hear his rough grunts in your ear, a low creaky groan ripping from his throat as he spills into you. 

He’s got a filthy mouth, whether he’s being sweet or rough with you. 

You can be louder for me, can’t you?  You gon’ be my good girl?  Just needed this dick, didn’t you mamas? 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Can we talk about subby Jey some more? Sure, he’s an amazing dom and takes such good care of you, but when he finally lets go and lets you call the shots? He really is the sweetest boy in the world. So anxious and eager to please you. You rarely have to punish him and even when you do, he somehow manages to get out of it by using his adorable puppy eyes. He loves it when you tie him down and ride him until he’s begging you for release, letting out the cutest little whimpers and moans. He’s always so embarrassed that you can coax those sounds from him, his ears and cheeks burning as he hears how pathetic he sounds, but he can’t deny how good he feels as you praise him and pet his hair. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long and curved, his dick is well-acquainted with your cervix. It’s so pretty, genuinely one of the prettiest dicks you’d ever seen. You once asked if he’d want to get it pierced, just to add to its beauty, but he’d only laughed and made a joke. Well, he didn’t say no…

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This man can fuck like the energizer bunny, always ready for you whenever you want him. He’s horny as hell but he does a good job of hiding it when he’s at work or on the road. He thinks about you constantly and is pretty much always down to fuck. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Once he’s sure that you’re comfortable and taken care of, he’s usually asleep pretty quickly. He’s more tired than he’d like to admit but he doesn’t like falling asleep before you. 

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ vox + marking you

character: vox warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, marking/branding (carving something into the skin), blood, toxic relationship, extreme possessiveness, daddy kink, dacryphilia, fem!reader, minimal/no prep, dubcon if you squint, pet names, painful sex, reader doesn’t get to orgasm words: 1.8k notes: vox likes to mark what belongs to him. permanently. and, as always, that mark must be perfect.

He’s been at it for nearly half an hour now, a slow drag of his index claw downward, pressure concentrated on the very point of the talon, following the line of a perfect slant before sharply pivoting upward, velocity slowing as it works back toward your hips, tracing another slant perfectly parallel to the first. 

V. 

A split second of reprieve, a single instant where the metal leaves your skin only to find the origin of the wound and begin the process all over again. 

“V-Vox—”

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” he warns, his voice low and airy, so close and concentrated on his work that you can feel his breath wafting over the cut, cool and burning. 

Cyan pupils pulse as they expand, desperate to devour as much as they can, scouring every minute detail and honing their focus on the singular letter he’s painstakingly carving into your pubic bone.

He’s meticulous with it, of course, just as he is with everything else, every movement precise and perfect. It has to be done this way, he had told you at the start, when you had whined about the deliberately drawn-out drag of his talon. Slow and steady, so it will heal in sharp, neat lines, all raised and gorgeous. 

A permanent mark of ownership, scarred into your skin for the rest of eternity.

The tapered tip of the V is the worst part, the harsh, quick maneuver of his claw procuring a deep sting, a yelp sticking in your throat as you try to swallow against the sound, Vox’s immediate responding coo, always accompanied by the brush of his thumb over your hip in the gentlest caress, doing little to soothe the pain. 

“But it���it hurts,” you hiccup out, eyes squeezing shut tightly against the prick of tears. “How much longer?” 

“Just a few more times, baby, I promise,” he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “You’re doing so well for me, lovebug, so well.”

But a few more times turns into another agonizing fifteen minutes with seemingly no end in sight, Vox lost in the repetitive actions, and the wound is starting to tingle, sticky crimson pooling in the flawlessly carved gouges, staining teal bright red. 

Tears have begun to leak from the corners of your eyes as they finally overflow, spilling past your lash line to stream down the sides of your temples in uneven little trails, vision gone blurry with a thick shield of water.

Your ribs stammer with half-stifled sobs, a soft hush distractedly falling from Vox’s lips with each minuscule jerk of your body, the hand on your hip tightening in warning. 

“Daddy’s almost done, darling,” he pacifies, a gentle threat sewn into his tone—don’t fucking move yet—we’re so close, don’t you dare mess this up. “Just a tiny bit longer, I swear.” 

“I can’t, I can’t, Daddy, it’s—it’s too much!” 

“Hey,” he looks up, a shock of sincerity slapped across his face, his voice ringing with painfully raw compassion. “I know you can handle just a few more for Daddy, can’t you? Don’t you want it to look pretty, too?”

Large eyes search your face with a rabid type of candour, hunting for validity. But your head is already nodding before he’s even finished speaking, motions becoming increasingly vigorous, an instinctual reaction, at this point—obedient as ever, desperate to please.

Of course you do—you want whatever he does, always. 

“Y-Yes,” you manage to sniffle out, the heels of your hands wiping messily at your lashes, smearing tears across your cheeks. “Yes, yes, Daddy.” 

His eyes soften, their usually bold glow dimmed with a sick sort of adoration, but his smile is barbed, stretching with something sinister. 

“There’s my good girl,” Vox purrs, pressing another tender kiss to the junction of your thigh and your hip. “Now, hold still while Daddy finishes.”

Another three traces through the routine—these last three harder and more purposeful than all those that came before them—and finally, he’s done, sitting back on his heels between your spread legs and gazing down at his masterpiece. 

Blood drips down his index finger in a thick dollop, his eyes shifting to watch with morbid fascination, the tip of his claw glazed with shimmering scarlet. Tilting it one way, then the other, he examines how it gleams in the low light of his bedroom—so pretty, he looks so pretty stained with you—then brings the talon to his lips, long tongue snaking from between his teeth to curl around it in a possessive embrace. 

He sucks it into the heat of his mouth, a low groan rumbling deep behind his sternum as his eyes slip shut, taking a moment to savour the taste of you. His lids snap back open a moment later, eyes drifting back to the freshly etched V, his free hand moving to rub at his cock, straining eagerly against his trousers. 

“F-Fuck,” he shudders out, the word soft as he stares at it, wide and unblinking, rolling the impressive bulge in his palm in lopsided little circles, then grinding the heel of his hand into it, his hips twitching up instinctively. “Daddy’s gonna fuck you now, okay, princess?” 

Your head is nodding, but you’re barely able to utter out an affirmative, because then he’s surging forward, a palm cupping your jaw as his fingers hook behind the hinge, pulling your face towards his and smashing your lips together. Bursts of copper explode on your tastebuds as he drags his tongue across yours—the slick muscle stronger, larger, wider as it shoves its way into your mouth, impelling your own tongue further into the hot, wet cavern. 

It’s sloppy and slippery and so, so sexy, his claws piercing your skin with superficial little pricks as he tries to yank you closer, your nose scrunched against his screen. Obscene squelching echoes throughout his bedroom as your lips glide and nip, copious amounts of drool, tinged pink with your blood, oozing from the corners of your conjoined mouths, leaving your chins shining with spit.

He overrides your senses, overwhelms your receptors and infuses your mind with nothing but him—his taste, smoky spice infused with metallic notes; his scent, sharp balsam and expensive cologne; his touch, still burning at the apex of your thighs, a constant reminder, an everlasting claim. 

A sharp gasp breaks the kiss as he forces his cock inside of you, forehead knocking against your own with a dark growl as his hips rock forward, burying himself in your cunt in a single, fluid motion.

Large hands curl around your hips, pinning them in place and keeping you from squirming away as he ruts into you, grinding his cockhead further into your cervix, ensuring he’s buried as deep as he possibly can be.

A singular moment, a breath shared between the two of you, oxygen sparse and dizzying as he takes time to revel in the feeling of filling you to the hilt, your sweet little hole spasming around him as it stretches and splits, eager to accommodate his girth, to gorge on his flesh.

Leaning back on his haunches, he drags your hips along with him, tailbone resting on his folded thighs, your knees thrown over either side of his hips. 

There’s no warning, no slow start or gradual build up, his cock slamming into you searing and sudden, fucking a gorgeous cry of his name from your throat. 

His chest heaves with ragged exhales as his hips pump, hard and fast and rough, voracious gaze swapping between your bouncing tits and the crisply engraved V glittering up at him on your pubic bone, still coloured with blood, drizzling past the scrupulously incised grooves with each vicious ram to stream down your skin, leaving tiny streaks of red.

The gash enchants him, pupils swollen as they soak up the sight, captivated by the way it quivers with every ruthless thrust into you, watching each drive of his cock as he sheathes himself in your cunt. The glistening arousal coating his shaft contrasts the blood so perfectly, the hands on your waist yanking downward with every jackhammer of his hips, forcing you to meet his motions. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he’s snarling as he fucks you, the word punched from his chest with each plunging thrust. 

“Yours, Daddy,” you sob out with messy little nods, dainty fingers braceletting his wrists, nails sinking into thin skin as you cling to him. “Yours, yours!” 

“No one gets to have you like this,” he gasps out, voice gone hoarse. “No one, tell me.” 

“No one—No one gets to have me like this but you, Da-Daddy,” you nearly wail, staring up at him with such bright devotion it almost hurts, your gaze lacquered with tears. 

“Ah, fuck,” he whimpers, the curse shattering on his tongue, his eyes shutting tightly for a moment before springing back open, gaping and gluttonous. “Yeah, yeah, you’re goddamn right.”

His motions have turned downright brutal now, every pound of his cock more merciless than the last, the strike of his hips jostling your entire body up the mattress, just barely held in place by the grip of his claws, razored points puncturing your flesh and scraping, tiny trickles of blood oozing from the lacerations.

“Your mind, your cunt, your fucking soul—it all belongs to me,” digitized blood drips from the corner of his mouth, the glaring glow of his eyes so brilliant it’s hard to bear, casting a flare of red across your skin.

“Yes, yes, y-yes,” you’re babbling out, gone delirious with the heady intoxication of pain and pleasure, fingers digging into his flesh in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. “You own me, Vox.” 

“Oh, Christ—” 

The confirmation has him cumming quickly, hips pressed flush to your ass as his cock throbs violently, stuffing you full with copious amounts of thick, burning cum. His body stills, keeping his hips shoved up against you, almost as if he’s trying to plug you, to keep his seed inside of you, to claim you from the inside out. 

But it’s so much—too much—and you can feel it exuding past his shaft to dribble down your skin, leaving behind streams of pretty pearlescent strokes.  

Finally, he pulls out of you, another cracked curse falling from his lips as he watches with a sort of sordid obsession, his cock glazed with his cum and your blood, the tops of his thighs smeared with his own essence. 

“So beautiful,” he whispers to himself, claw reaching out to trace the V again, a hiss spit from between your teeth, body trembling with the effort to stay still, to resist flinching away from his stinging touch, to be good for him. “So fucking perfect.” 

Slinking down the bed, he wedges his head between your spread thighs to inspect the wound more thoroughly, teal tongue unfurling from his mouth to lave over the deep cut, mopping up excess blood as he follows the contours carefully once, twice, three times.  

“Mine,” he murmurs, planting a gentle kiss atop the wound, sealing the breathy claim into your flesh. “Mine, forever.”

“Yours,” you whisper, looking down at him as your finger outlines the V affectionately, a loving caress of what he’s gifted you. “Yours, forever.”

[bangaveragewhitewine]

baby, be my valentine

dad!Steve Harrington x mom!Reader

February, 2000

A snapshot of Saturday morning with the Harrington's. In between toddler-cuddles and sister-squabbles, Steve has a very important question for you ❤️

In the same universe as soft slow, morning glow & hearts are wild creatures

Word Count: 5.3K

Contents: Sickeningly romantic loverboy Steve Harrington comes with his own warning. Heavy flirting and some kisses. Steve refers to you as his wife / Mrs Harrington. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids. Valentine's vibes.

Author's Note: After a very frustrating few months, I found some sort of spark to write something and here we are. Easing myself back in gently, with my preferred brand of cosy domesticity and warmth. Proof-read by @specialagentmonkey. Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Steve Harrington was a romantic. 

He was a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic until he met you. After you smiled at him that first night almost ten years ago everything felt possible and full of hope. 

Steve was easy to love, despite years of believing that he was not, that he would never be loved by someone in the way he wanted and needed. You were careful with his battered and bruised heart, nursed it back to health with your sweet kisses and gentle hands.

After years together, marriage and a house and children, you could swear on it that Steve had only got more romantic and loving with age. You were sure that he spoke each of the love languages fluently. 

Physical touch was doled out in spades; he liked to have you always within reach of him, a hand in your back pocket (and yours in his ideally), gentle fingers brushing back your hair or beneath your chin so he could gaze at your pretty face. The weight of his hand against your hip, squeezing as he passed you by in the kitchen, or your shoulders when he knew you were feeling tired and tense; Steve’s touch gave you butterflies every time. 

You never had to de-ice your car on cold mornings or fill the tank with gas. He had mastered the perfect bubble bath, filled deep and topped with fluffy bubbles - Steve knew too when to leave you alone in there with your book and a candle and silence, and when you wanted to rest back against his chest and talk about nothing and everything until your fingers and toes were pruny. 

There was never a need to wonder whether he loved you; he told you every day. How beautiful you were, how proud he was of you. You both made sure your daughters knew too, that they were adored, that they were beautiful and smart and good. Steve listened too, remembered the little things you told him and loved seeing your eyes sparkle when he recalled something tiny from weeks ago. He surprised you with flowers and always bought the chips you liked when he was doing the groceries.

You were Steve Harrington’s favourite person and he was yours too. There was plenty of love to give and room in your hearts to spare when your girls came along, Beth and then Ava. Steve had learned a lot from his own Dad, though it took him a few tough years to figure it out. He learned how not to cherish your wife, how to make your kid feel totally worthless in a house full of valuable, breakable things. He promised himself that he would never be his father, do everything his father had failed to do. In a way, that is what made him the good man he was today. You were proud to be Mrs Steve Harrington. 

February in Chicago was freezing, but the promise of brighter warmer days kept you going. On the Saturday before the big day, you wake to an empty bed. It was not unusual with Steve, who spent the mornings in the den with the girls and Saturday morning cartoons. Instead of his messy bedhead on the pillow beside yours was a bright red envelope. It took your sleepy brain a few moments to figure it out, but once you did you felt warm all over with butterflies swirling in your belly like a schoolgirl. 

The card inside shows Snoopy holding a big red heart. When you open it, in Steve’s neat writing, is a simple question: 

Will you be my Valentine?  Steve x

You press your smiling face into his pillow, breathing in your husband's musky, lovely scent. An almost overwhelming wave of cuteness aggression crashes over you and you want to squeeze Steve until he wheeze-laughs and says something gorgeously charming like ‘down, girl’ or calls you his strong lady, asks for tickets to the gun show. 

Nine Valentine's Days together and he always found a cute way to ask you before the day even arrived. Pre-kids there were flowers delivered to your workplace, a question whispered in between kisses lavished on your neck in the months counting down to your wedding. When Beth was born, he dressed her in a pink babygrow with red hearts and enlisted her cuteness to ask the question. When she got a bit bigger, sentient enough to understand it a little more, he would ask her too. When Ava joined the Harrington Crew, Steve found himself with three Valentines and felt like the luckiest man alive. 

You think about the card and present tucked away in your closet to give him on Monday morning, a red envelope with your heart poured out inside that matched the nicely wrapped new Chicago Blackhawks jersey (with two tickets tucked in the collar). You cannot wait to see his face when he opens it.

Thinking about him, Steve’s smile, makes you miss him next to you. It makes you miss the warmth and weight of his arms made stronger from carrying car seats and all of the grocery bags in one go. Beth’s giggly voice travels upstairs, barely breaching the bedroom door but it is enough to make you ache with the need for morning hugs and toddler kisses. 

You tiptoe downstairs to the den to find Steve in his comfy throne (his spot on the sofa, the left side near the side table with the lamp and TV remote and his coffee cup gone cold). He is watching the girls watch Bear in the Big Blue House. Ava is mesmerised by it, standing with one little hand on his pyjama pantsed knee and the other clutching a bottle. Beth sits cross-legged a few feet away, a little smile on her face because she loves Bear. Steve is just glad it’s not Barney & Friends - he loathes Barney and his friends.

You take a mental snapshot before Ava’s bat-like hearing makes her head whip around to spot you at the door. Her face melts into a beaming baby-grin (a toddler now, but she’s still got that gorgeous baby fat that you want to bite and nuzzle). 

Babbling ‘Mama!’ she bee-lines to you and you wrap her to your chest with equal eagerness. 

“Good morning, little one,” you whisper to her cheek, kissing it over and over as her dimples pop. Beth’s arms wind around your legs, head against your hip (she should never be this tall!) and you drop one hand to stroke her bed-head hair. “Hi Betty Bee.” 

When you look at Steve he has a soft smile on his lips, everything is okay in the world now that you are here. 

It makes your heart skip a beat. You feel just the same, everything is good. The washing machine has been acting up and your back still aches from when you slipped on ice after Christmas. There was a lice outbreak at Steve’s school in January and you both still get the phantom itches and have to check the girl's hair, just in case. But everything is good. 

“Morning, handsome.”

“Hi, pretty lady.” 

You can see that simmering excitement, barely contained beneath the surface. Did you see the card? Do you still think it’s sweet? Are you going to be his Valentine? You make him feel seventeen and stupid again.

Beth is chatting at breakneck speed and pulling you over to sit on the sofa as Ava’s curious hand wiggles beneath your fluffy robe. 

“Mama! Tut-ter!” she says, pointing at the worried blue mouse, “Oh no!” 

“Bear said I smell like warm an’ cosy, like a good sleep! I did have a good sleep!” Beth says, tapping your knees with busy fingers. 

“Really? Let me smell...” Your Bear-like sniffing sends her into a fit of giggles when your breath tickles her neck, leaning against her Dad’s legs to evade the ticklish feeling. 

“Mm, so warm and cosy,” you agree, before giving Ava the same treatment. 

Steve feels a little bit like he might die if he does not get a kiss from you soon. Ava’s honey-blonde head blocks his way in for a smooch against your cheek, resting against your shoulder with a sigh too big for a two-year-old. 

When Beth is distracted again by the television, you turn your body a little to look at Steve. He’s already looking at you and it feels like the sun is shining on your face, bright gold in the grey chill of the morning. 

“Hi.” Your voice is a whisper across the youngest Harrington’s head. “Miss you.” 

“Miss you,” Steve says, inching closer to you out of the warm Dad-shaped groove he has made on the sofa. His arm brings you and Ava closer, manoeuvring a kiss to your lips without squishing the little one too much. She complains anyway against your neck and earns herself a kiss from Steve as an apology.

“Kiss ‘gen, Dada!” she insists, and is only placated when her cheek is well and truly smooched. Her laughter tickles your neck until it is damp with baby breath. 

He is still wondering whether you saw the card, feels a little silly asking in case you think he is corny or in case it had slipped beneath the duvet after he left. 

“Up long?” you ask when she settles again, eyes on the screen. It’s barely after eight-thirty but his coffee is long gone cold. 

“Ava woke at seven fifteen-ish, woke up Beth. I might have promised breakfast out if they were quiet and not wake you…” Steve watches your face for a reaction, hoping the lure of waffles and breakfast that you don’t need to do dishes after can win you over to his well-meaning-but-morally-skewed bribery. The creases from the pillow on your cheek make him feel fond and he chances another kiss over Ava’s head, pressed right on the pillow-marks. Her cute scowl is worth it to see your smile. 

“I think that’s a great idea. Brains and beauty, huh? I’m a lucky woman, Harrington.”

That makes Steve smile, a shade of coy confidence. “Well, I’m a lucky guy, Harrington.” 

There is a fluttering feeling deep in your chest, close to where Ava is stroking the collar of your pyjama shirt, but this is one hundred per cent Steve. Beside you, he basks in his own loved-up feeling, that sense of warmth and calm.

“Lucky us.” You turn and land a quick kiss on the side of his head. “Can we go to Bakehouse?” You are already dreaming of waffles with chocolate chips and strawberries, and crispy hashbrowns and coffee.

“S’a date,” he says, winking. 

Ava turns in your lap, her eyes are back on the screen but yours are fixed on Steve, the smile lines around his eyes and the tired crescents beneath them, the stubble on his cheeks.

“I got your card.”

Steve’s heartbeat triples at your coy little smile. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. You’ve got yourself a Valentine, handsome.” 

Steve beams brighter than the sun. “Cool. Prepare to get totally loved-on.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, a giddy feeling vibrating through your bones. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. You’re getting so spoiled, baby.” Plain and simple; the sky is blue and the grass is green, and Steve Harrington is a romantic motherfucker.

You cannot stop smiling, cheeks aching as Steve presses one more lingering kiss there. “Okay, Cassanova. I’m ready to be ‘sooo spoiled’.”

He runs a hand through his messy hair, feeling all too pleased with himself. 

“You wanna grab a shower before we go?” you ask. 

His smile melts into a weak laugh, “Oh, you wound me, babe.” Steve lolls his head the other way to pantomime sniffing himself. “Not bad…” 

“I like it when you’re musky.” You really do. You can’t make the most of it anymore, but when he comes back from a run or coaching basketball at the school, there’s something about sweaty pink-cheeked Steve that makes you feel a little bit crazy. 

“But,” you continue, “if you go while they’re distracted, you can shower in peace.” Your fingers brush through the crushed baby curls at the back of Ava’s head, tickling the back of her neck until she squirms and cuddles back against you. 

Steve softens and rests his head against the couch. “God, I love you.”

“Mm, I know. Love you more, Valentine.” You accept another smiley kiss and pout for one more because you need it.

“Go shower, stink. Bear will call you out if you stay for the next episode.” 

You smirk when he rolls his eye at you, murmuring a playful ‘alright, jeezusss’ before squeezing Ava’s foot gently. His knees crack and Steve barely suppresses an all-out Dad Groan when he stands. Pinching your lips together barely contains your laughter, hidden against your toddler’s head when Steve narrows his eyes at you. 

He is barely out of the room when you slide into the warm groove left behind, bringing cuddly Ava with you as Beth sings the ‘Goodbye Song’ as a duet with Bear. She joins you on the sofa and wiggles right up under your arm as the credits and advertisements roll. 

“Mommy, are we going out for breakfast? Daddy said we might, if we were little angels.” Beth asks, resting her bony chin against your arm to look at you. 

“Mmm, you’re always a little angel, Bethie.” You wink at her and watch her glow. “And Ava, my angel baby.”

“So can we?” she pushes, cherubic and smart. 

“I think we can, sweetie.” 

Beth wiggles with excitement before whispering to Ava, “We did it! Angel-girls!”

The thrill is contagious and Ava is wiggly with excitement. “Yay!” 

They make you dissolve into a puddle of sugar with how sweet they are. You pull yourself together and crystallise back into Mom. 

“Are you going to help me decorate for Valentine's later? We can do some crafts, hang up some bunting...” You watch Beth’s eyes go wide. 

“Yes! I love Vanentimes!” she insists. “Miss Janine says, she says we making cards! On Monday. Van-en-time cards!”

With wide-eyed Mom-enthusiasm, you match her smile. “That’s so fun. Who are you going to give your card to? Do you know who you want to ask to be your Valentine?” 

Beth considers it as you brush her hair away from her face. “Ummm. Maybeeee… Daddy!” Her smile shows off her perfectly milk-white baby teeth

Heart warmed, you stroke her soft cheek. “I think Daddy would be over the moon if you asked him to be your Valentine, babe.” 

“I’ll ask Daddy, and Ava will ask you!” she decides. 

Ava backs her up, “Yah, Mama!”

Beth giggles and tucks herself against you to watch the screen again. You don’t miss how she whisper-sings along to the theme song and looks up at you to make sure you’re watching too. 

The need for coffee is pushed way back in favour of soaking up the quality time with your girls, how cuddly they are with you on this cold February morning. It’s cosy and perfect until it’s not, but those ten minutes were pretty great. Beth wants her turn sitting on your lap and Ava is absolutely not having it. It’s nice to be the centre of attention, but not when the two warring parties are tearful and are still learning how to process their emotions and words. 

“Beth, please don’t push your sister. That’s really not kind,” you say. The smile-ache feels long gone and instead, that line between your brows feels deeper than the Grand Canyon. 

“Ava hitted me! I did’in push her!” Her voice wobbles dangerously as she insists that she was pushing her sister's hand away. “I- I- wanna sit o-on you, Mommy!”

Ava is all out crying against your chest and your soothing circling back rub is doing nothing to comfort her upset. 

There’s a particular heartache you feel when they both need your attention. It tugs hard that knot of anxiety in your chest; tears you can fix but you can’t figure out how to fix it fast enough. You want to gather them both into your lap at once and hold them both, but their pushing hands and kicking feet aimed at each other (sister-enemy #1) do you no favours. 

You carefully lift Ava and place her down in your seat, keeping enough distance between them in case of any rogue pinching fingers. You kneel in front of the sofa, knees cushioned by the rug. “Listen to Mommy, please. Let’s take one big deep breath in, okay? All of us. Hold my hands.”

Their little hands slip into yours, both copying you to take deep shuddering breaths. It works better with Beth because she is older, a little wiser, she knows the drill. But Ava sniffles her way through it like a trooper, doing her best. 

“Now we blow out the air.” Your big breath tickles their faces and makes the wispy hair around their faces fly, pulling tiny scrunch-nosed smiles onto their faces. 

“Good. One more big big big breath.” Your thumb rubs tiny circles on their hands as you help them (and yourself) settle the big feelings. “You girls just got a bit frustrated, that’s okay. I love having you both sitting with me, it’s my favourite thing ever. But we have to be gentle and careful with each other.” 

Sweet kisses are pressed to their hands in turn. “There’s plenty of Mommy to go around, no need to fight over me. I love you both so much.” You open your arms to gather them up, a few final tears soaked up by your robe. 

Beth’s adjustment to Big Sister after two years of being the sole focus of your attention had gone mostly okay, but as Ava got bigger you could see the moments when she struggled with it all. You and Steve always made sure she got quality time with each of you, but it was still tricky at times.

“Are we all okay now?” you ask, watching them nod tentatively, “It’s okay if we’re not, we can take more deep breaths...” Neither girl lets go but you manage to move your head back to look at their pretty faces. 

Ava rubs at her cheek and rests her head on you with another big sigh. “Oh-kay, Mama.” 

“I’m okay, Mommy,” Beth promises. 

You kiss their cheeks and tap your fingers on their backs. “If you’re okay, Mommy is okay too.” Neither really want to let go of you and that’s okay. 

“Let’s go get dressed and we can start our day. Daddy’s going to bring us for breakfast. That’s going to be so nice, huh?” you suggest, hoping to distract and cheer them up. “I want waffles and some yummy strawberries.” 

Steve’s voice at the door makes you startle. 

“Good choice, Mama.” He has a small frown between his brows, a towel around his bare shoulders with his jeans already on. His hair is combed-through and damp, and his gold chain glints around his neck and collarbones. You don’t let yourself look at the happy trail disappearing beyond his waistband, though it is tempting. 

“We okay?” he checks, looking at you. He brings with him an energy that makes the tense room feel light again. It is something you can’t quite name but it feels like everything will be okay again.

“We’re okay. Just a sister squabble. We took some breaths, didn’t we?” 

Steve had introduced that trick - his school councillor certification came in handy at home too. You could simply not do this without him. 

“Yeah, we okay now.” Beth hugs Ava, a little for show but mainly because she loves her. “Sorry Ava. I did’in mean to push you, I jus’ wanted to sit with Mommy too.”

Ava is too little to get it but she likes hugs and she loves Beth so she baby-hugs her right back. 

“I get it. I like sitting with Mommy as well,” Steve says, hands on his hips. “So are you three going to get this show on the road or am I going for breakfast all by myself?” 

You try to hide your smile in your robe but he knows that the Dad-routine really does it for you. “You going to ask us if we’re ‘ready to rock and roll’ next, Stevie?”

“Maybe, guess you’ll have to wait and see.” Steve winks at you as the girls hop off the sofa and make their way towards him. “You need a diaper change, and you need a hairbrush.” His finger points at Ava, then Beth as they hold hands now. 

“And you.” You are next. “Need a kiss.” 

Beth laughs when you fake-swoon and Ava squeals in delight at your silliness.

“How romantic. Come sweep me off my feet, I think I’m stuck.” You could haul yourself up from the floor but Steve’s warm hands do a much better job of helping you up. He sneaks an ass-grab while delivering the kiss you need so badly. With giggly kids present, you can only let it linger for a few moments but it is enough for now. 

“My hero.” He earns himself one more peck before you pat his behind toward the stairs, the girls already waiting by the stair gate like the little angels they are. You spare him from your chilly fingers on his bare back as you follow them up - he always finds a way to get you back for that. 

Steve scoops Ava up to change her diaper and dress her in something warm for the day and you shepherd Beth to pick an outfit. You can hear him wrangling her to lie down on her changing mat as you make Beth’s bed and pick up the fallen teddies from the floor. 

“What are we thinking, babe? Maybe your pink cords and a sweater? Or…?” you suggest, turning to see her looking at her own reflection in the mirror on her wardrobe door. 

Your arms wrap around her as she leans back into your legs, sharing a cheesy smile in the mirror. “You’re so pretty, Betty.” 

“I look like you!” she beams, tilting her head back to look at you. The angle can’t be any good, she’s seeing the worst angle of your chin and right up your nose, but to Beth you are beautiful. “Daddy says I’m mini-Mommy, coz our nose and smile is the same!” 

You cannot deny that Beth is more you than Steve in looks but she is bless with a beauty mark or two like his, you think they make her extra gorgeous.

“Let’s see?” For a few moments, you smile and pull faces with each other in the mirror before agreeing she is definitely all you. It’s quiet(er) down the hall, meaning Ava has stopped evading Steve and the clean diaper. 

The pink cords are set aside for preschool on Monday and you dress Beth in a long-sleeve striped turtle-neck top and dungarees to keep the warmth in. She agrees to a woolly cardigan over-top and her snow boots, but only if her hair is half up with her butterfly clips - it’s a fair deal and she looks adorable. Her fifth birthday looms a few months away and you can already feel your heart aching in the best way. 

“Beth Harrington, you are so gorgeous,” you say as she swishes her arms and bounces happily in front of the mirror again. She has his sparkle in her eyes that is so Steve, it hits you right in the chest. “Will you help me pick out my clothes, please? You’re a fashion expert.”

Nodding eagerly, Beth runs at you for a hug as tight as her little arms can manage. “Yep! We could match, Mommy! Please?!” 

When she looks at you like that, with huge brown Bambi-eyes like her Dad, it’s hard to say no. Not that you want to. 

“I’d love that.” You stand from her bed and feel her little hand slip into yours as you make your way down the hall to your bedroom. 

It smells like Steve after his shower, warm and fresh with a hint of something spicy. He has made the bed and your Valentine's card is pride of place next to a photo of the girls on your bedside table. Beth zeroes in on it as you pick out some underwear and switch the bathroom fan off. 

“Mommy, a card! Look!” she gasps. 

“It’s from Daddy, he asked me to be his Valentine.” 

You watch her eyes go wide before her face splits into a smile. “Daddy looooves you!”

“He does. And I loooooove him.” You wiggle your shoulders for emphasis, pulling more delighted laughter from your eldest. 

While she strokes the sparkly heart on the card in awe, you pull on your jeans and pick out some top and cardigan options for Beth to choose from. You forgo the butterfly clips, but once you are dressed, you and your Mini-Me match quite nicely. 

“Woah. Too much beauty in this room, I gotta leave,” Steve says when he joins you, pretending to shield his eyes. 

Ava runs past you and climbs on the bed with Beth, a tornado in cosy pink and lilac leggings and a matching fleecy top. Her hair is in pigtails and you swear she ran right out of a JCPenney catalogue. 

Steve is still in just his jeans, his hair mostly dry now after taking on Ava’s morning routine which primarily consists of her evading capture until she is limp with laughter. 

With the girls minorly distracted, you take the chance to give Steve that appreciative once over. His tummy has this beautiful pudge that you want to press your face against and bite. He filled out a little more over the years, much to his initial disdain, though he did not care so much when he realised just how much you loved those softer edges.

Steve watches you do it, feels the warmth of your gaze roll over his body. You could surely be the death of him, making him boil over or implode with desire.

“Hey, handsome. Are you going to get this show on the road or are we going to have to do this breakfast thing all by ourselves?” You feel smug, parroting his words back at him and catching him off-guard. 

His tongue presses into his cheek as he shakes his head, smiling down at his own socked feet. “You…” Steve shakes his head again. His hands feel huge on your hips when he squeezes past you, closer than he needs to be but still not close enough. 

There’s a heat in his stare as he pulls a navy Henley on, then a sweater. He dials it down quickly when Beth remembers out loud the time when she saw Uncle Dusty’s cat throw up a hairball last summer. 

You try not to laugh at her totally out-of-the-blue memory but nod along anyway, remind her how gross it was. “Good remembering, Betty.” 

“Meee-ow!” Ava chirps next to her, proud of herself when she makes everyone laugh. “Cat!”

Steve cups her little face. “You’re a funny bunny, Ava.” He squishes her cheeks and rests a kiss on her forehead before giving Beth the same attention. “And you! Best remember-er in this house, huh? I had forgotten all about that.”

He had actively tried to forget it. It ruled out ever getting a cat, especially when Ava tried to touch said hairball. The memory makes him shudder.

Once everyone has brushed their teeth and used the bathroom, you bundle everyone up in coats and hats and gloves and pack into the car. It’s freezing cold but a morning out of the house is what you all need. A morning with no breakfast to make or dishes to wash is worth braving the cold for. 

You feel toasty enough with your three favourite people, and Steve could swear that your hand on his thigh as he drives is all he needs to keep him warm. 

“You look extra gorgeous today,” he says when you stop at a red light, the girls happily distracted in the backseat. 

“Laying it on thick today.” Steve is easy to tease. “I already said I’d be your Valentine, Stevie. Consider me buttered up.” You squeeze his leg through the denim to lock in your promise. 

“I’m being serious,” he insists. “Besides, I know you’re all loved up with me. You want to kiss me sooo bad.” His voice is like a song as he returns your teasing.

“Oh, I do. I even wrote your name in a heart in my diary.” 

“Cute.” His teeth shine when he grins, glancing over at you before starting to drive again. “You want to go on a date with me? Dinner and some drinks. How ‘bout it. I’ll be real good to you, baby. Have you home by ten…”

Your laugh echoes around the car, cutting over the car radio quietly playing the Backstreet Boys and Lauryn Hill. 

“What’s funny? Did Daddy make a joke?” Beth asks, wanting to be in on it immediately. “Tell me!”

She is quick, but Steve matches her. “What do you call a cat with a lemon in its mouth?”

You don’t know where he pulls them from, it’s probably deep in the Dad Manual, but it keeps the older girl thinking for a moment. 

“Um… Lemony?”

He catches her eye in the rearview. “A sour puss.” 

There’s a beat as she makes sense of it in her head, and you’re already groan-laughing when Beth gets it and joins in. She sets her sister off and Steve feels like King of the Car. 

“Thanks guys, I’m here all week.”

Beth is tickled-pink and repeats the joke again for Ava who doesn’t get the word play yet but laughs when her sister cracks up again. 

“So?” Steve asks you. 

“Your jokes suck.” 

“You laughed.”

“It was at your expense.”

He winces at that. “You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

With a coy smile, you counter, “You can take it, big boy.”

You watch his cheeks flush minutely, just like you knew they would. “And Eddie. Stop that,” he mutters, “Anyway. You never answered my question.”

Steve looks at you expectantly as he waits for a car to reverse out of a space right outside the cafe. If it wasn’t sub-zero you could have walked. Maybe in the spring. 

“Ohhh.” Your smile is coy as you remember his pitch for your date. “Okay, Romeo. You can take me out.”

He grins, trying not to look quite so pleased with himself and failing miserably. “Cool. Tonight at eight. Rob’s taking the girls.”

As Steve swings the car into the parking spot, you sit in stunned silence. He switches the engine off and watches you for a moment before concern drips in, second-guessing himself. 

“Is that okay…?” 

“You… Steve, of course it’s okay!” You unclip your seatbelt to hug him across the gear stick, peppering kisses to his stubbly cheek. “Thank you,” you murmur. You can feel the relieved sigh leave his body as you crush him in a hug.

Steve steals a kiss from your lips. “Don’t thank me. I promised to spoil you.”

He earns himself another kiss with his sweet thoughtfulness as the girls begin to complain a little - Beth because she’s ‘sooooo hungry’ and wants to know why you’re kissing again, and Ava because she is sick of her car seat and simply must be freed from it. 

“Alright, alright, we’re getting out now. Hold your horses, ladies,” Steve says, faux exasperation on his face that softens when he looks at your smiling face again. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” you say, warmed from the inside out with pure adoration.

Even though the girls are getting whingey, and it’s starting to snow again and the cafe looks busy, you could not be happier or more content with life than you are right now. Everything is good.

Steve unclips his seat belt and zips his jacket all the way up. He winks at you before opening the door to start the endeavour of freeing the girls from the back seat with you and making sure they don’t slip on the ice, or wander in front of a car, or get too loud in the cafe. 

“Love you more, Mrs Harrington.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Can you do the greasers dating a Jamaican girl or just a Carribbean girl in general? Separate, obvi 😅

Since it was the 1960s there probably was alot of prejudice which is why I was wondering what it would be like, as a Jamaican myself

❤️

Summary: The Greasers x Jamaican/Carribean!Reader

Warnings: racism, stereotypes, etc.

Author's Note: Generally, I have no clue what living as a Jamaican or Carribbean woman is like and i tried some research but im not very confident in it, so i'm sorry if this is written vaguely...

PONYBOY thinks you're actually stunning, he loves your beautiful hair and glossy skin, and your curves and style. He thinks you're just a genuinely beautiful person, no matter what race. He's not blind to the fact that him dating you would be odd in their society, or that you're tougher than most because of this life you had to endure, but he thinks that you're just perfect for him. He'll always comfort you after a hard day, reminding you that you're so much smarter and more beautiful that people realize.

JOHNNY doesn't try to associate with you at first. He's already outcasted and he sees you as someone that could pull down his reputation, until he starts actually talking to you. He cannot get over your voice, it's smooth like honey and that's what initially attracted him to you. He denied his feelings for so long but eventually realized, that love knows no bounds, and that he'd feel so much better without trying to fit you and himself inside a box. Since then, he's been quite literally the best boyfriend ever. He'll always step in for you, even when he knows he can't really handle it, and he always has a praise for you at the end of the day.

SODAPOP has a specific talent that lets him see how pretty a person is even if their just wearing a school uniform with their hair tied back. He knows how to recognize beautiful features, beauty in the rawest form. You always stuck out to him, and he always stares as you walk by, but makes no move to talk to you until Steve hypes him up. He's awkward and fumbling. He knows interracial couples are shunned and not accepted, so your relationship is a secret that no one knows about except for the gang. He would love to go public with your relationship but he fears that people might start targetting you because of it.

STEVE is quite literally the wokest guy in the gang. He doesn't care about beauty standards, he's never fit them (he thinks) and he's confident in himself so why should anyone care about anyone else? He talks to you nonchalantly a lot, a passing remark about the weather, asking you how your day was. You two are just common accquantainces until he asks you to go to the movies. While sitting next to you, he realizes how tense and nervous you make him. He starts noticing little details about you, your perfume, your hairstyle, your clothing, until he realizes he likes you and asks you out. He's so caring to you, people know not to mess with you, because Steve will rile the whole gang up to come get them because the gang loves you like a sister.

TWO-BIT knows being associated with you could be bad news. He tries to stay out of your way while being respectful, but something about you to him is genuinely so alluring. He cant tell if it's the way you hold yourself, the gentle slope of your shoulders or if its everything wrapped up in a neat little bow, but that's probably the first time he's had a crush in a long while. He tries not to let it be known but you can tell, and you explain that you like him too, but that you know that it would be rough if you two got together. Having conformation that you like him back is the straw that breaks the camels back for him, he's ready to dive head first into this relationship with no protection at all. He's always got your back, especially when it comes to out-insulting people, he's got a tongue sharp enough that it would make a young boy cry and he will use it against someone if they try to diss his girl.

DARRY tries to stay as distanced as he can from you. There's too much trouble for him as a greaser and a technically 'single dad' that he just can't handle anymore stress at the moment, but he's always respectful and never says anything about you. He sees you everywhere though, and you start infecting his mind until he's almost waiting everyday to see you pass by. You two have this weird situationship, where its more the presences of the other than anything. You realize that Darry is probably more hesitant to be in a relationship with you, but that he loves you too. However, patience is key, because he asks you out within the next month. He tells you, once Pony is out of the house and you two can move far away from Tulsa, the relationship can be more public, but for now, only the gang knows.

DALLAS is probably racist. He grew up mean and angry and he'd probably act that way to you. There is no 'fixing him' or 'making him change for you', that's just how he will be. He won't ask you out, but sometimes he'll drop stuff by your door, try and stop by your place for a drink or two. Or just something that makes him look uncaring but still lets him be close to you. He's stuck in this love hate loop with both you and himself, but he tries to push it out of his mind.

[karlachismylife]

character ask thingy for konig, thank you sm I hope your day is going great! <3

Oooh, König! I'm not talking about him much on here, am I? Might have something to do with the betrayal of my friend whom I dragged into the COD fandom for my Karlach x Soap team or at least Ghoap only to lose her to the Ghost x König gang... (I'm joking, we're still having fun, ship whomever you want). Thanks for asking!! And also thank you, my days are pretty okay lately, hope yours are too <3

If anyone else is interested, I'll be glad to talk about someone else from COD and BG3. The game itself is here if someone wants to reblog!

So, König, the big Austrian that has literally a couple parapgraphs of bio on the wiki but a ton of fans to make up for it, eh?

favorite thing about them

I'll do two, because one is mostly canon based and the other mostly headcanon, but not fully. The canon favourite thing is that he's imperfect at his job. It's not just his size that prevented him from becoming a sniper, it also says he is "unable to stay still". I think it would be easy to make him a total machine and just slap the social anxiety on top as the only "imperfection" he has, especially since he is a minor character in a fucking pew pew ka-boom game. But they literally said he's actually not that good at his job (like, if he's unable to stay still, this won't impact just his sniper abilities, you know?). So that's neat, I love when people are allowed to be not that perfect at their job. And the favourite headcanon thing is that he's a gentle giant, I just love the type. Yeah, he's huge and kills people, but he'll also cradle a little bunny like it's the most precious creature on Earth.

least favorite thing about them

Uhh apart from the fact that people for some reason (ahem, racism) replace Gaz with him instead of just adding him?.. I think he either compensates for his anxiety or just feels much more confident at work and it makes him a little too cocky without needed (for me at least) charisma/unseriousness towards himself. Judging mostly from his body language. I know he has a sense of humour, but yeah... maybe calm down a little big guy.

favorite line

Any of the few lines in German he has. Or the "pick your guts off the floor", lol. I just like German and König is a funny fella, especially when he sounds angy.

brOTP

König x Gaz! There have been a couple arts on the theme and I absolutely adore them. Stop pretending they can't coexist! Also, Kyle would definitely find a way with words to make König feel more at ease off duty or would handle the way König is in the field easily.

OTP

I don't actually have any preferences at all, I like everything I see with him simply because people explore different dynamics and it's the most fun part for me. BUT I'll say like what I saw from Ghoap x König less because everything I saw puts Soap into a position/dynamic I don't really enjoy that much. Doesn't mean there isn't something I'll like a lot tho!

nOTP

As always, nOTPs are not my thing, but toxic stuff upsets me.

random headcanon

Also giving you two: he loves wearing lingerie but is a little bit ashamed of it and definitely hides it and he's generally a sweet tooth, especially for chocolate, so a slice (several) of good Sachertorte will make him really happy.

unpopular opinion

Uhh... he doesn't have a huge dick?.. No one in my universe does cuz I don't see the appeal (we have huge straps in my universe tho. but toys are separate). I don't know what's popular opinion lmao, sorry.

song i associate with them

Oooh, I actually have one this time! It's from my favourite German band Oomph! - "Kleinstadtboy". I like the whole album it's from because they experimented with their sound and quite successfully in my opinon, and this one has both the lyrics (yeah it's about gayyyys but also toxic masculinity in general. fits him well I think) and the according sound. The overblown dry electronics crackling/rasping just suits him, I think. I think he smells of static electricity too.

favorite picture of them

I don't really have one? But I like him doing different finishers. Looks impressive thanks to his size.

[sixstepsaway]

I don't get why people want to pretend Ed wasn't abusive. Why do people insist on making everything into binaries? Yes, Ed has been a victim of abuse. Yes, he has been abusive. Both things can be true. I love him because I think he's in interesting and I understand where his pain is coming from (even if I think S2 was a missed opportunity in terms of character development). But anyway, thank you for writing about this because maybe some folks genuinely don't recognize abusive trends.

I think it has a lot to do with the fandom culture of only being allowed to like "wholesome" ships.

Look at it this way: when season 1 was airing, Ed and Stede were, in fact, very wholesome. Sure, they had some moments of lesser wholesomeness, but overall they were pretty wholesome and sweet and gentle. They were sweet and finding love in middle age and it was adorable. They had a general stamp of fandom approval that they were, in fact, Wholesome And Good To Ship™.

If you look at other fandoms, you'll see a lot of times there's the Good And Acceptable Ship and then there's the Bad Ship (or ships) and the Bad Ship is always slapped with the "oh that's actually incest!" label when they've, idk, grown up together, or "oh it's abusive!" because one of them one time made a bad joke or something, or "power dynamics!" because one is 27 and one is 25 or one is short and the other is tall or whatever, and yeah sometimes the Bad Ship is actually toxic or whatever (which is not a reason to not ship and enjoy it!), but they're put in neat little boxes: Good and Bad.

And for a lot of people, those boxes keep them safe. Last year, someone who was an Izzy Hands fan got doxxed because...? They liked Izzy Hands and shipped him with... I don't know actually. Ed? Stede? It doesn't matter, all I know is they got doxxed.

The side of fandom that thinks you should only ship the Good Ship are toxic and downright dangerous. It's happened again and again in numerous fandoms and just keeps happening.

So when at the end of s1, Ed turned around and cut Izzy's toe off and fed it to him, I think a lot of people panicked because shit, now Ed was Bad too, and if he's Bad then you can't like him or relate to him or ship him with the Good guy of Stede, so what the fuck do you do?

Obvious answer: Blame Izzy. Izzy's already classed as Bad, so put all the responsibility on Izzy for Ed's darkness and then it's safe to ship Ed and Stede again and no one can call you an abuse apologist or whatever for liking them together.

(To be clear: Shipping says nothing about your real morality. This is very clear for many reasons, one of which is... spend thirty seconds watching fans of the Wholesome Ships dox people and abuse people online lol)

So they spent all this time saying Ed was just scared and lashing out, and now s2 has come along and Ed is... well, abusive, canonically.

And for most of us, that doesn't really matter. We can still enjoy Ed and Stede or Ed and Izzy, we can throw ourselves into fanworks and enjoy the show for the things we like, and we can critique the things we have issues with (my problem is not Ed being written as dark and twisty and having a villain arc, my problem is the show writing it badly, exploring it badly, and then handwaving it, because it's shitty writing) and still really enjoy the vibes we got from the show.

But for people who are scared because they spent all this time saying Izzy fans should kill themselves for liking an abuser, well... now they have a choice: either admit Ed is an abuser and admit that liking a character doesn't dictate your irl morality, nor does it say anything about you aside from what you enjoy in fiction, or excuse away his actions, insist he's just a lil meow meow and continue feeling safe in their little bubble.

In a lot of ways I can't blame people for wanting to duck and cover from it. I mean, look at the shit people get for liking characters who aren't perfect, or talking about the imperfections of characters, or just enjoying complex narratives!

But what genuinely concerns me isn't anything to do with the fiction really, it's when people look at Ed's behavior in 2x01 and 2x02 and go, "Nah he's fine," because oh, honey, no, you are making yourself so vulnerable to real life abuse. That is what worries me, which is why I answered that one ask saying Ed wasn't abusive, it felt important to point out why he is.

Anyway, that's what I think is happening here. I think people are just scared that if they admit their fave has multitudes and isn't a perfect character who never does any wrong, they'll get doxxed and abused and harassed online.

I get that.

[rabbitenn]

Any boy(s) of your choice leaving a note for their s/o after having to leave them for work in the morning before they wake up? Your writing is so g o o d btw!

SAKURA MESSAGE.

Even if you’re not awake to remember his good morning kiss, he’ll make sure you feel him close when he’s away.

ft. Kujo Tenn, Osaka Sogo, Izumi Mitsuki, Nanase Riku, Tsunashi Ryunosuke x gn! reader.

cw/genre: pure fluff.

thank you so much for requesting, dear ! The idea you sent is super sweet <3 I’m so, so happy you like my writing omg, I hope you like the boys I picked for this and that I managed to execute this prompt according to what you had in mind, mwah !

♡ KUJO TENN

He awakes before sunrise.

His phone lights up from his bedside table, vibrating as it announces the start of his day.

Tenn is used to this schedule, so his current concern is to stop the alarm before it wakes the one sleeping next to him.

You. His lover.

As much as he’d claimed before that his lover are his fans, he knew you were the one he truly, fully, loved romantically.

And you knew it too. Your boyfriend made sure perfection tinted every display of affection he graced you with.

For all the smiles he offered on stage, you both knew his most genuine ones always happened when it was just you and him.

Like the one he gives you right now, even if you’re not awake to see it.

You’re laying on your side, facing him, one of your hands on top of the pillow he just left empty. Your chest rises and falls in tune with your breathing, your lips gently tilted upwards in a tranquil smile.

You look so… carefree right now, your scrunched up eyebrows when you were anxious or stressed, fully relaxed now.

With all the gentleness he can muster, Tenn brushes some stray locks away from your eyes, leaving the sweetest kiss to your forehead.

Then, he picks up a baby pink piece of paper from the block you have on your room’s vanity.

In neat handwriting, he scribbles:

“[Y/n], my love, good morning. As usual, I’ve left for work already, I hope you’re having sweet dreams as I see the sunrise.

I have this evening off, so I’ll be home early.

I love you.

— your Tenn.”

Carefully, he sets the rosy paper on your nightstand, next to the white cat plushie you once wanted to buy because it reminded you of Tenn, and the framed polaroids of you and him.

As much as he knows he has to give his 110% at work and to his fans, Tenn looks forward to coming home to you later.

With a last look your way, he quietly closes the room’s door.

He better hurry, the sun will rise soon.

♡ OSAKA SOGO

Osaka Sogo always does everything five minutes before the scheduled time.

That, of course, includes waking up.

On work days, however, the moment is always tinted in muted violet shades of melancholy: he wishes he could cuddle by your side for a little longer; get to see your pretty eyes when you wake up next to him; give you a proper good morning kiss.

But he knows you’re okay with things being like this.

“So, you finally have a life of your own, one that you fought for, dear… This is your path to make, so give it your all, and please rely on me or on your friends when you’re troubled.”

Those are the words you told him once, when he apologized for not spending more time with you once MEZZO started getting more work.

However, no matter how busy he was, Sogo always managed to reserve time for you. As if those minutes he saves to be early had been contained inside a pocket in time for you two to meet before the day ends.

He had spent the night at your place, despite knowing he would have to wake up earlier to make it in time for work.

As carefully as he can, your partner leaves your bed, neatly pulling the covers snug around you. Gently, he takes your hand, brushing his lips against the back of it with the delicacy of lavender blooms.

Using a page of a notebook he had on his bag, he writes:

“Dearest [Y/n],

By the time you wake up, I will already have left for practise with the rest of the group. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer, let’s go on a date on my next day off, yeah?

— Yours, Sogo.”

Tucking the note over the pillow he left empty (and made sure to fluff up previously), he turns off his alarm clock.

Still one minute left until it was supposed to go off.

Pocketing his phone and grabbing his bag, your boyfriend exits your apartment, a longing look in his hyacinth colored gaze when he glances towards your window once he’s outside.

He hopes he can be back next to you very soon.

♡ IZUMI MITSUKI

No matter how silent he tried to be, you always noticed when your boyfriend left the bed.

The sun may not be out yet, but the lack of Mitsuki’s warmth next to you was enough to rouse you from your peaceful dreams with him.

“Mitsu…” You mumble, yawning, sleep clinging to your lids, as you desperately try to keep them open.

He’s already sitting up on the edge of the bed, his back to you, vibrant orange strands a little messy.

Hearing you calling him, your lover turns around.

“[Y/n], lovey, it’s still early.” Mitsuki says softly, as he tucks you back into bed, his hand squeezing yours for an instant. “Rest for a little longer, okay?”

“But I want to cuddle you…” You pout, eyes already closing in exhaustion.

He chuckles, planting a fleeting kiss to your lips.

“Tonight, yeah? I’ll be back soon.”

“Promise me…” You trail off, unable to finish the sentence before exhaustion has already taken you into dreamland once more.

Mitsuki chuckles, whispering: “I promise, baby.” As he rushes towards your kitchen. Obviously he’s not leaving without making breakfast for you!

A bowl of your favorite fruits is arranged perfectly, as well as an assortment of pancakes with cute decorations, and a mug of steaming coffee.

Your boyfriend sets everything on the kitchen table. A quick glance at the clock lets him know you’ll have to wake up soon as well.

He leaves you a note:

“I hope you’ll like breakfast, my [Y/n] ♡

See you tonight, I promised, even though I’m not sure you heard >///<

— Loves you, Mitsuki.

As you take the first sip of a coffee that’s just perfect to your tastes, you clutch his penned words to your chest, smiling fondly at how precious your partner is.

Tonight can’t come soon enough.

♡ NANASE RIKU

There were not many places Riku could sleep at, due to his respiratory issues.

However, he always felt at ease at your house.

For obvious reasons, it would have been problematic for you to be spotted by the media showing up at his dorms at night.

So it was often that you two met at your place instead.

You kept it extra clean, putting away anything that could worsen your boyfriend’s condition.

Sometimes, IDOLiSH7’s center felt bad that you had to go out of your way for him, but you always assured him you didn’t mind, and that in fact, you were happy to do this for him.

“Riku…” You called him softly, a hand playing with his hair as you faced those puppy eyes of his. “I like doing this for you, okay? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help you achieve your dreams and keep you safe, so please, never feel bad, my dear.” You told him that time.

Your caring words cross the idol’s mind now as he wakes up, making sure not to disturb you. He feels a little sad he can’t say good morning to you personally, so he’ll leave you a note.

Turns out you already beat him to it, having gone to bed a bit later than him last night.

“Riku, take care today! Give it your all, but don’t exhaust too much, please.

Don’t forget your scarf, and remember to take your medicine.

Love you so much ♡

— [Y/n]”

He smiles, a warm feeling settling on his chest at how caring you always are.

He leaves a reply on the back:

“I’ll do my best today, for you, and I will take care!

I’ve already grabbed my scarf and taken my medicine.

I hope you have a good day, [Y/n], I’ll sing at my best for you ^-^

I love you too!

— Riku.

With a smile colored in you, Riku leaves to start his day, a boost of motivation at the thought of making you happy marking his every step.

♡ TSUNASHI RYUNOSUKE

To say you adored spending the night at TRIGGER’s residence would be an understatement.

Your boyfriend’s cooking, the comfy atmosphere with his friends, spending more time with him after busy shifts at work… It felt like sunbeams warming your back, the pleasant feeling enough to transport you into honeyed dreams.

And of course, his cuddles. As midnight ticked by and you found yourself protected in Ryu’s warm embrace, akin to a blanket of clouds at golden hour.

That made mornings all the more hard for you and for him, who couldn’t be by your side to greet you good morning.

He’ll leave you with a handwritten note, and the promise to make it home early tonight.

“To my beloved [Y/n],

I’m sorry I have to leave so early, I hope me and the boys are not making too much noise. I’ll be home early today, why don’t we make dinner together?

I’ll text you throughout the day.

— Ryu, who loves you so much.

Tucking the piece of paper by your bedside lamp, the idol tenderly kisses your cheek, his soft ambarine eyes full of affection as he says:

“Rest well, dearest.”

He exits the room.

Tenn and Gaku are already waiting for him outside, grinning knowingly at their friend’s lovestruck smile.

Oh, they are so going to tease him.

[angosbbg]

☆francis fitzgerald hcs

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

| —»» SFW

(this is x reader)

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

- prepared to be spoiled rotten by this man.

- he's VERY touchy. he loves physical affection.

- he's often very busy with the guild so he cherishes every single moment he has with you.

- a surprise visit to his office is his favorite thing you could ever do.

- please run your fingers through his hair, it helps him calm down.

- he's often stressed over work. but you're here so he's happy.

- he absolutely adores you. he cant focus on his work if you're there because he's so focused on you and everything that you do.

- bros almost obsessed with you ngl

- would and will do anything for you.

- you're the most perfect thing in his life in his eyes.

- if anyone bothers you at all, he'll take care of them bae dont worry about it!!

- if anyone makes you feel bad about yourself, he'll deal with them. don't worry about them anymore.

- he loves it when you sit on his lap while he works, running your fingers through his hair, messing up the neat styling of his blond hair.

- if you ever feel insecure, he'll kiss you and love you until you feel better, praising every single part of your body until you feel better.

- has to say 'i love you' before he leaves for anything.

- often worries over you, even if you can protect yourself, he still worries over you.

- he cant stand leaving you for long periods of time.

- he definitely has a picture of you close by him at all times. bro probably has one in his pocket.

- if he's away from home, he'll call you when he can.

- definitely loves cuddles.

- definitely the type of guy to randomly buy you something because it 'reminded him of you.'

- bros 100% in love with you.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

| —»» NSFW

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

- entirely focused on you.

- no part of your body is left untouched and unloved by this man.

- probably not into all that freaky shit but he's up to try anything‼️‼️ (u only live once /j)

- will tie you up if you want him to...

- bros always the dominant one. he'll let you top sometimes because you're his love <33

- i KNOW some of yall FREAKS want to peg him.... (me too)

- he'll let you peg him because he loves you.

- definitely has tears in his eyes when you peg him.

- bro whimpers out.

- sheet gripper.

- definitely gentle and soft at first, but he'll be rough if you want him to <33

- whispers words of praise in your ear as he rails the fuck out of you bro.

- definitely will bite your neck.

- not really vocal at first, but then he starts letting out grunts and whimpers.

- he shakes when he cums.

- hugs you tightly and breathes deeply into you neck as he cums, his pace getting slower and sloppier.

- pretty decent aftercare tbh.

- all in all, he loves you a lot :3

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

AN: guys i promise im working as hard as i can to pump these mfs out of my asscheeks!!! HELP

[sky-fire-forever]

I've been thinking of some system Ed ideas because I'm a system and I think it's a neat concept

The Kraken is not an alter at all. He's just a persona both Ed and Blackbeard put on. He's not separate from either of them and is the mask both of them use to hide their softer sides.

Ed/Edward: The host. His sense of identity is very dubious at best. He's the sadist of the system. The one who "loves a good maim" and who played knife parade and who enjoys violence to a degree. Not killing, though. He never takes it far enough to be the one doing the killing. That hurts too much. Reminds him too much of killing his father. Ed is easily bored and wants new things, new experiences. But he doesn't necessarily want to retire or be a normal person. He just wants something exciting in new way. Ed is who falls in love with Stede, head over heels. He loves how new and exciting Stede is, all the little things that make Stede so bizarre are what endear Ed to him. He loves him so much. Ed is often erratic and has changing moods that fluctuate, but at his core, he's a man who wants new things and who can get extremely depressed when he doesn't have proper enrichment

Blackbeard: The pragmatic "strategic genius" of the system. Surprisingly the less sadistic one out of him and Ed, but also the one more likely to kill, directly or indirectly. Blackbeard is the one who comes up with the plans, who sees the best way forward. He's actually a pretty quiet guy, but he's prideful. He takes a great deal of pride in the execution of his plans especially. He cares about what others think about him a lot more than Ed does. He doesn't particularly love Stede, especially not when compared to Ed. He honestly thinks he kinda gets in the way. He's the one who manipulates Izzy into sticking around, who pulls the strings, who really thinks he can kill Stede like he plans to. But he also needs Izzy a lot more than Ed thinks they do. He will sacrifice anything and anyone to achieve his goals, though.

Jeff: Yes, Jeff is a headmate. He's the one who yearns for an out of piracy. He's a trauma holder and resents how much anger is inside of him. He just wants to be a normal person living an idyllic life outside of piracy and violence, but finds himself to be incapable of it. He's prone to lashing out, to fits of violence, especially when he's reminded of all he isn't permitted to be. He just wants to retire, to run an inn, to be an accountant, anything but the life he feels trapped in. He hates who he is and everything he's made to be.

Pip: Pip is a child alter in the system. He's probably around the age of ten to fourteen and he's actually pretty violent. He's full of anger at how his life has turned out, at who he is, at all he's suffered from. He's angry at the injustice of it all, so he lashes out with words or actions. Lashing out makes him feel more in control in a world he feels helpless in. He hates feeling powerless, so he'll do anything to assert control over any situation he's in. He doesn't ever want to be helpless or small.

Eve: Eve splits when Stede leaves and the Kraken Era begins. She is actually the least violent of all the headmates and is the "perfect wife" the system thinks Stede wants. The perfect partner, soft and gentle and sweet. She wouldn't hurt a fly and she tries to take of her crew, especially from Ed, who keeps lashing out at them. She wants to be gentle and nurturing and kind, but often fails in the execution because she doesn't fully know what she's doing. She borrows a lot of traits from Ed's mother.

[yeniiyy]

"I saw you sleeping in the library the other day"

Spica said as he sat down in the chair opposite mine, those emerald green eyes peered right into me. I, on the other hand, was letting my thoughts wander somewhere and only got startled by his sudden intrusion.

"Yeah I think I found a pretty neat corner"

I smiled, recalling the memory I had the other day. A library is always a perfect place for napping, even though I was really determined to study, everything just started to fall apart with the right ambience and that impeccable silence.

"Were you tired?"

"Maybe a little bit" I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to make him worry either "I just need time to rearrange my thoughts, you know"

The cafeteria in the afternoon was not too crowded with students. Most of them already left for the afternoon class, some of them remained here, working diligently to complete whatever task was displayed on their laptops in front of them with a bottle of water. And we were there, sitting across from each other, in this undoubtedly quiet area, our chatter was practically the only thing I could hear.

"You know you can always ask me for help, right?"

His sea-green eyes once again delved into mine, as though he was searching for any answer he could find in there. I flinched for a second, but quickly regained my smile.

"That is very kind of you" I hesitated "but, you know, there is stuff I need to resolve by myself. It's not that I don't want your help, sometimes things just got complicated".

I found myself averting his eyes, staring off into space. Those eyes, they were too powerful that I was scared if I looked into it any longer, I would end up coming clean and telling him the truth.

"Summoner" his voice was gentle as if soothing a little toddler "You are avoiding the problem"

I touched the hem of my uniform, not knowing what to say. He was right. As if it's only a matter of time before everyone else notices. Ever since that night, I have been hiding from "him". Avoiding group meetings, switching team missions, I've done everything I could in order to buy myself some time, to figure out what is this feeling inside of me.

"Little do you know" Spica once again broke the hush "That night when you went missing, he was the first one to contact everyone, and also the first one who seems like he would go crazy just because we couldn't contact you through Stella tab" he stopped for a moment before continuing to finish his words "To be honest with you, that was really out of character. Never have I witnessed Vega acting so impatiently before"

I finally shifted my gaze from the hem of my skirt to Spica, who was looking even more thoughtful than before. He wasn't joking, he surely couldn't withstand our little hassle and decided to step in.

"I just don't know how to face him right now" I spoke genuinely "So many things happened at once, and, you know, logically speaking, I'm not supposed to take it for granted and pretend like nothing happened. I just don't know. I feel like the more I look at him, the more I got drowned in my own frivolous thoughts"

"You're so slow, you know that?" I just heard the person in front of me sigh "Let me just dumb it down for you. Do you have feelings for him?"

"I" I looked down "I don't know"

"Then just tell him you don't know. Anything is better than eluding the problem right now" Spica said with concern "It's not your fault, there's no need to feel bad about it"

"But" I blinked twice "What if he doesn't accept it"

"Then we have no choice other than flinging him into the ocean" he said nonchalantly "But to be frank, I don't think that would be the case. Why don't you try talking to him first, or at the very least, listening to what he has to say?”

Surprisingly enough, as soon as Spica finished his sentence, my Stella tab flashed. I instantaneously took a glance at the display and saw that it was unmistakably he - the person we are discussing over - had called.

"Take it" Spica urged "We are not going anywhere if you keep agonizing over it"

I took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Spica" I stood up "I'm gonna take my leave"

He nodded.

I was totally unaware that after I left, Spica stared into the space where I had just gone from with a broody expression on his face.

_____________________________________________________ I have no idea what I just wrote but thank you for reading! :D

[thecollectionsof]

Soulmates au 12 + crygi

Crystal’s journal appears on her bed three days after she turned 23. 

She sees it out of the corner of her eye, at first—just a glimpse of purple hiding inconspicuously under a pile of clothes she’s been putting off folding. She doesn’t know what it is at first—nobody tells you that, nobody tells you that it just finds itself hidden in your things like it’s always been there. But there it is.

She flips it open with gentle, almost reverent fingers, not knowing what it held. Has her soulmate found theirs already? Have they written in it? It can’t have been too long, she only did her laundry a few days ago, but what if her soulmate was mad at her for not finding it until now?

There are words on the first page, a neat script written in pen taking up the first few lines. 

Hi, I’m your soulmate I guess! I’m excited to hear from you!

Her heart feels like it’s beating out of her chest, the words etching themselves into her mind. Her soulmate! Her soulmate wants to talk to her!

There’s more, a line down. 

I’m not sure when you’ll find yours, I guess. I’m Gigi, by the way, it reads, a heart drawn next to the words. 

Crystal scrambles for a pen.

My name is Crystal! she writes, then takes a moment to think. How do you introduce yourself to your soulmate, anyway? She’s spent countless hours dreaming and fantasizing of times spent talking about everything, sharing love notes and funny thoughts, but never how to start. I’m glad you’re a girl, like I knew I was gay but I was still scared I’d get some guy named Jared or something. 

She regrets it immediately, but she thinks scribbling it out would make a bad first impression, so she doesn’t. The page remains the same even after she watches it for a reply for a few seconds, and she doesn’t know whether she’s glad about that or not. She doesn’t feel like she’s done but she doesn’t know what else to say, so she takes out a pack of colored pens (she was currently writing in orange) and doodles herself (and her cat, for good measure). It’s not perfect but she makes it colorful, hoping that Gigi would like it.

She really, really hopes that Gigi will like it. That she’ll like her.

Gigi doesn’t respond, not yet at least. Crystal doesn’t want to admit how long she spent watching the page, then scrolling on her phone and only glancing at it every few minutes. (Four hours by her count, each minute dragging on until she can hear more from her soulmate.)

Crystal!

Crystal’s usually fruitless glance shows the neat script written in the blank space under Crystal's portrait. The way she writes her name, the exclamation point, and the sheer excitement of seeing more of Gigi makes her shoot up from the slump she had fallen into as she waited.

I’m also glad. I’d hate a Jared, you’re much better. She signs it with another heart. Crystal scrambles for her pen, knocking it off her desk in her haste, but when she picks it up she finds that Gigi wasn’t done. Is this you? Do you have a cat?

There’s a space, and then she went down one line. You’re cute, Crystal. :)

Crystal watches, mystified, as the space on the next page is slowly filled with thin lines and an elegant figure that starts to take form. It’s slow but she can’t look away—Gigi’s drawing herself and Crystal wants to watch everything about it. 

The figure is thin, almost like a fashion illustration, and the pen strokes are measured as she perfects the outline, streaks of hair framing a narrow face with some kind of dress taking shape on the page. She feels almost giddy as she watches. This is her soulmate! This is Gigi!

This is me. I hope, Gigi starts writing, then she crosses it out swiftly, and replaces it with a smiley face.

Crystal scrambles for her pen. So pretty!  she assures, and then underlines it, trying to show Gigi how much she means it. 

So is yours!

I’m so sorry but I’m at work and that was my break and I have to go right now but

There’s a pause as Gigi hesitates, and Crystal watches the page carefully for the rest of the sentence.

but will you be here in a couple hours? I really want to get to know you.

Crystal finds herself nodding quickly, before remembering to put her pen to the page. 

Yeah! Of course!!! I’ll be here :) Have a good day at work!

Great see you then!!!!

Crystal sits back and closes her notebook with a sigh. She met her soulmate! And she wants to talk to her! And get to know her! She doesn’t know what to do with herself for the rest of the day, knowing that she’d just be distracted by the purple notebook no matter what she did. She just wants to learn more about Gigi, but she’ll have to wait.

But it doesn’t mean she can’t talk about her. She opens her phone in record time, hitting call on the first saved number before she even has time to think about it. “Daya, you won’t believe what I just found.”

[butterflies-and-blades]

Session 20: Prophecy

Sleep that night was a calm reprieve from the developing pattern of dread. The abstract peace and relaxation of a normal dream was refreshing like the gentle waters of the stream near the cabin.

"You're welcome, by the way," said a formless, masculine voice. The same voice I had heard a few times in various places. Spoken another way, the same words could have easily been sarcastic or snide, but like most times I heard him, the tone was instead soft and kind. "I hope you appreciate the gift."

I looked around, unable to find the source of the voice or anything else out of the ordinary. "Thank you," I said, awkwardly fumbling over my words as I tried to think of what else to say. "I assume you mean the scythe?" There weren't many other new things that he could have been referencing; the only other new arrival had been Da's shield, and that gift felt like Da's or Van's to claim.

The voice did not respond. I waited, hoping for him to say something more, and was only met by a single black and blue swallowtail, fluttering on the still air until it landed on my forehead.

When I woke up, the quilts on my bed were mostly undisturbed--a sharp contrast to the twisted piles that had been half tossed to the floor the previous morning. Griffon was still in my arms, but he was not clutched in distress.

I sat up and looked down at my hands, willing the scythe to form. The golden energy coalesced, becoming solid in my grasp. For such a long weapon, its lightness was still a surprise. I turned it over a few times, idly looking it over before getting up and moving towards the desk on the far side of my room. I pulled back the heavy curtains covering the windows on either side of the desk. Like an animal waking from a long nap, sunlight stretched across the room.

I willed Da's shield to replace the scythe and set it down. Over the years, the originally dark wood had faded in spots, leaving an inconsistent gradient of brown tones across the desk. I pulled the chair back, careful not to snag the rug--whose once rich purple fabric had also faded in similar patternless patterns. It was still soft underfoot, though.

Sitting down, I reached for the bottom drawer on the right side of the desk. Inside, there was a collection of glass jars filled with different paints. One by one, I set them in a neat line in front of me. From the top drawer on the same side, I brought out the matching set of brushes and the old, multicolor-stained cloth I used to wipe off excess paint.

When Dad, Da, and I painted my old shield, there hadn't been any pressure. We were all laughing, having fun as we made somewhat of a mess at the kitchen counter. Dad had never been a fan of my training with Da; painting the shield had been meant to make Dad feel more included in it all. Given the mess we all made, we were lucky that that shield had come out as pretty as it did.

Looking down at Da's shield, I struggled to find that same levity. The brushes were heavy in my hands. The paints watched me with grave judgement. I couldn't mess this up.

Painting the first flower took longer than I expected--probably because I was so focused on ensuring every brushstroke was perfect. After that, the second flower came easier, and the third had a promising start before I was interrupted by a knock at my door. I paused, grateful that I had been dipping my brush in more paint and not mid-stroke.

I set the brush on the scrap cloth. "Come in. The door's open."

Verca walked in, followed by a wide-eyed Talo.

"We have a problem," he said.

I frowned. "What is wrong?"'

Talo opened their mouth. Gold light poured out alongside Celestial words that did not feel like their own.

"Each in your past has a devil you can't escape:

The one you know, the one you don't, and the one that's always known you.

The sands of the hourglass pass everything in a dream you can't escape.

Sins of the father beget punishment of the son.

And a matron's love knows no bound.

The towering figure of sand.

The monstrous giant.

And the woman who seems to be a mirror.

Not everything is set in stone, but these things fate demands you face. But even fate may have more to it than you expect."

The glow faded, and Talo was able to close their mouth. There was a long stretch of silence as we processed what had been said.

Back to speaking in our heads, Talo added that they'd had another weird dream during the night. They had expected something from Melora, but instead they had found themself in a desert-like expanse with a large tree in the distance. They had approached the tree, and when they touched it, they saw a series of images come to life.

First there had been a masked woman with dark hair. Long ears had extended from the sides of her face, and her skin had been very pale.

Next, they saw a humanoid figure covered in boils.

"That sounds a lot like one of the people from Verca's dream the other night," I said before they could continue. Talo and Verca agreed.

Verca added that he thought the masked woman resembled me. Dark hair and pointed ears were relatively common traits though; without any other details, I was hesitant to agree. Talo said that they had thought of the women at the Raven Queen temple in Greston.

They went on to share that the final figure they saw was that of Morpheus.

As far as we could tell based on what Talo had told us in the past, Morpheus was a relatively antagonistic force, and while we did not know what Verca had released from that statue in his dream, the boil-covered entity did not seem friendly, either. If Verca was right about that first image being me, I worried that I would become something vile we would have to stop.

Talo was quick to disagree with my concern. "I think this means we're going to need to find out more about your past and any other missing memories." They pointed out that we had yet to learn how I had come back after being killed, which was not something I had thought about since Da had restored those memories.

They also indirectly referenced the fact that they and Verca still did not quite know what I had remembered.

I did my best to share what I could, going through the details that stood out. I also shared what I could regarding the winged figure, speaking with that same masculine voice I kept hearing, who had only appeared in my dream after the events of the memory. Verca had asked if I had been able to make out any specific features of the man, but the light coming from his wings had left him little more than a warm silhouette.

"We'll have to talk to the glowing Mask the next time it comes out," Talo said. Apparently, they had promised it that they would not prod, making them hesitant to take the first step in starting that conversation.

After we'd finished trying to untangle what we could of the information we had vaguely been given that morning, Talo stepped out to speak with Faunsel via a Sending Stone they had been given. Verca stayed in the room, playing fetch with Kaemon, while I continued painting.

"By the way," Verca said after tossing Kaemon's toy for him to chase, "how are you feeling?"

He must have seen something in my body language that I'd yet to process myself, because my stomach twisted in a sharp pang of hunger as soon as the question was left in the air. I dropped the brush I'd been using and pressed my palms into my eyes--trying to push away the quickly growing need climbing my bones.

I counted the days in my head: five since I had attacked Verca in the library. "Actually, I think you should go," I warned, fighting the waves of empty nausea that came from not eating.

My chair swirled without me moving it. I lowered my hands and saw Verca leaning over me, head tilted to the side so that his neck was fully exposed.

"Take what you need," he said.

I pushed myself as far from him as I could, held in place by the back of the chair. "Verca, no. I can't."

But he insisted. Didn't step away. Stayed too close.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said, shaking my head.

"You won't."

My nails dug into the armrests of the chair. I could feel the urge--the hunger--under my skin, eager to take what was offered.

It felt like there were knives in my gut--slowly shaving slivers of flesh off the corners of my ribs--, but I wasn't sure if that was from the hunger itself of my attempt at fighting it.

Verca brought up a hand and ran a sharp nail against the side of his neck. Blood gathered on his finger and continued to bead around the cut. He leaned closer, holding his finger barely an inch from my mouth.

The smell was intoxicating.

I couldn't fight it. I leaned forward, bringing my mouth around his finger first--sucking and licking at the little blood I could. Not enough to satiate the depth of need that had gathered over five days, but the pain at least lost its intensity.

My eyes flickered to his neck as the taste of blood--rich even in small quantities--faded, fully cleaned away now. Since being turned, it had lost that metallic tang; now it was decadent and sweet like perfectly ripe fruit or luxurious chocolate cake. I abandoned his finger and brought my hands to his shoulders, pulling him closer. He didn't resist. In the haze of hunger, as I leaned into the crook of his neck, it felt as right as matching puzzle pieces coming together.

I opened my mouth, my fangs lightly grazing his neck as I first licked at the thin line of blood that had gathered beneath his cut.

And then I brought my mouth fully around the wound, fangs pressing against sensitive skin.

"I'm yours to have," he said as I bit down. Hot blood rushed over my tongue and down my throat. The heat was filling--a small fire pooling in my stomach--and comforting at the same time. Verca exhaled. His breath tickled the tip of my ear.

"Oh gods, not again." Talo's words abruptly replaced the mindless enjoyment I had gotten lost in for I don’t know how long. They didn't sound horrified, though; perhaps embarrassed. 

I pulled away from Verca, slamming my spine once more into the back of my chair and hiding my face behind my hands. Shame was already wrappings its slimy arms around my torso.

Verca pulled out a piece of cloth and pressed it to the fresh wound on his neck.

Shame's grip tightened.

I gently touched the edge of where I had bitten him and did what I could to heal him in apology.

There was still blood around my mouth. I reached for the cloth I had been wiping my brushes on.

"No," Verca said very simply when I picked it up. He held out the fold of fabric he used on his neck.

I took the cloth and wiped my mouth. "Thank you."

Talo brought up their offer to make blood bags again. I shook my head, saying I was fine.

"It could even be Verca's blood, if you want," they said.

It wasn't an issue of specifically wanting to feed from him; I didn't want anyone's blood. I couldn't act like this was normal.

They also said something about the bags being better than waiting until I was at the edge and attacking someone else. I remembered how I lost control in the library. We had been lucky that it was Verca I threw myself onto and not a stranger. The thought brought a new nausea, different than the one that accompanied the hunger. Still, I couldn't bring myself to give in. 

Talo dropped the subject--for now, at least.

Before leaving to check in with Dad, they pulled something from their jacket. A small wooden jewelry box. "I made something for you, but with everything going on there wasn't really a good time to give it to you," they said, holding out the box.

I was stunned. Although simple, the box itself was well made and beautiful. There was the weight of something else inside.

I opened it. A metal butterfly safely sat in the container. The craftsmanship was immaculate. Thin lines were etched in the metal, decorating the wings.

"Thank you, Talo," I said, at a loss for words. "It's beautiful. Thank you." I hugged them, only realizing what I had done after my arms were wrapped around their body. Wide eyed, I stepped back and focused on my smile as I thanked them again while putting the butterfly and its box in the Bag of Holding where it would not be damaged.

When Talo did leave for the kitchen, looking for Dad, Verca stayed behind while I finished painting the shield. A part of me had hoped that he would go with them so that I could open a window and make myself throw up again. But another part of me enjoyed the company.

We were both quiet while I worked. By the time I was done, the bottom third of the shield was adorned with white lilies similar to my first shield and a number of other flowers in the background. The upper third of the metalwork was covered in butterflies, leaving the emblazoned raven comfortably nestled between the two.

I hadn't thought about how long it would take for the paint to dry until that point, which was especially concerning given its current link with the bracers. Verca helped to speed up the drying process by waving a flame over the paint.

"I lied earlier," he said, looking down at the shield instead of me. "I did have a dream." He explained that he didn't want to share earlier--partially because there was already a lot going on with Talo's dream.

"Why did you change your mind?" I asked.

"I'm not sure." He said he would tell Talo about it later and described what he could remember of it to me.

He had been in a dark space, unable to make out many details of whatever was around him until a series of tendrils reached out and two glowing green eyes had opened, staring at him from the distance where the rest of the body sat out of sight.

He looked at me. "When my eyes turned green the other day, where they alight like that?"

It had been so quick, but I thought about that moment. We hadn't been in the dark, so it hadn't stood out so obviously, but with a second though, I was sure that they had.

Verca nodded, clearly trying to tie together whatever details he could in his mind.

"It told me not to be a hero," he said. "Not to be a martyr. It said it didn't want to bury us both." There was a tense line between his eyebrows--troubled by whatever he had experienced.

The language of 'both' was interesting. I couldn't help but think of the times he had mentioned his mother.

"Talo and I don't want to see you die. We are both going to do our parts to keep you safe," I said. "And regarding the issue of martyrdom, especially knowing that I think you can probably be the most reckless of us..." I tried to find the kindest way to phrase what I meant, but it was difficult.

Luckily, he stopped my rambling. "No, I agree."

"You don't need to throw yourself into the fire to handle whatever is ahead of us. We're going to figure it out, and get through it, together."

A beat of silence as he thought over my words. "Can I have a hug?" he asked.

I hesitated.

"You don't have to."

"No, no. I just hugged Talo," I said, feeling ridiculous. "And you're usually the most bearable touch these days, anyways. I can give you a hug."

I stepped closer to Verca and carefully wrapped my arms around him, keeping the pressure light. He matched the intensity. We stayed like that for a few seconds before I moved back.

"We should probably see what Talo and Feron are up to," he said. I agreed, and we walked into the hallway.

[kuro-ayame]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

Oh, this is a rough question, it's difficult to choose only ten characters. Anyway thanks for the ask! :D

Lavi Bookman (D.Gray-Man) I think I already wrote about him in a manga challenge I did some time ago, I don't want to repeat myself, but I love Lavi because of his personality, he acts silly most of the time, but when the situation demands it, he gets serious and pulls out of all his skills.

11th Doctor (Doctor Who) I need to say that I like all the Doctor's regenerations, but Eleven as a special place in my heart, because he is the Doctor in what is my favourite episode (Vincent and the Doctor) of the entire series . Anyway it's not the only reason he's my fave, this Doctor seems so joyful but hides a lot of suffering within himself and Matt Smith's interpretation convey all of this so well!!

Satoru Gojo (Jujutsu Kaisen) He is strong, handsome, smart and it's funny to see how he bothers everyone around him. Sorry, I have no special reason for linking him ahah

Osamu Dazai (Bungou Stray Dogs) The fact that he always seems to plot something is really interesting to me. He's pretty much a menace and I can't help to love him.

Akari Mizunashi (ARIA by Kozue Amano) For Akari every little experience is important and it seems that everything shines through her eyes, I think she's a reassuring character.

Gilbert Nightray (Pandora Hearts) The most loyal character I've ever seen, additionaly I like his design.

Ash Lynx (Banana Fish) He's intelligent and has shown a strong willpower despite his past, also I love his gentle side when he is with Eiji.

Sebastian Michaelis (Black Butler) I don't know why I like him so much, he is just…perfect? Oh and I must say that I laugh so much when he is placed in humourous situations, it's neat.

Cozmez - Kanata Yatonokami and Nayuta Yatonokami (Paradox Live) Ok, maybe I like Nayuta slightly more because he seems the quiet one, but still I don't want to choose between them, you know what they say: "They are a set, do not separate them". So aside their fraternal bond, I love their music and how their storyline has been handled, I don't want to go into details, but I was pretty moved by it and I developed a strong attachment to these two.

Doremi Harukaze (Ojamajo Doremi) She was my fave when I was little, I can't exclude her from this top ten. She is just too relatable, especially from the point of view of a child.