#oh the tenderness of lovingly watching the person you care about while thinking of all the ways you could crush them if you wanted to

[crimsonrain-spirits]

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ . sweet dreams~ . @lordofshibas

surprise...more toxic yaoi!

[muffindaddystyles]

Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

..

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

.

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

[wreckmetoji]

Fight for your love

A fic in which your boyfriend’s job keeps you from obtaining what you want the most.

↳ Geto Suguru/Reader

content warning. fluff, smut, established relationship, afab reader, oral(f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, profanity

**Minors DNI**

2.5k words

In no way did Suguru think he was a clean, righteous person. He knew many decisions he made weren't the right ones, he knows he's had to hurt innocent people. But the way you looked at him every time he walked through the door made him believe he was. The gentle tender love and care tending to his wounds after a long day of work gone bad, hurting innocent people. You never seemed to mind, never seemed to ask, never seemed to care if the way you kissed his bruised, bloody knuckles spoke what your heart was thinking. Every time he tried to bring up his line of work, knowing there was a good chance one day you might get dragged in despite how hard he tried to keep you separate, keep you secret, you simply shook your head and smiled at him. As long as you're you, I don't care what you do, you'd say. As long as I'm happy with you here and now, I don't care what happens later. Suguru would be lying if he said he didn't come to the conclusion he couldn't live without you right there, right then, the first time you said those words with your blindingly bright smile. Everyone was far from perfect, except you. There was no such thing as perfect, except you– and sometimes, you made him feel perfect too. "I know you can't help it, but," You muttered, tongue poked out between your lips as you tied the bandage around his torso with utmost concentration, "If you're gonna get hurt, try to avoid something this close to your heart." His softened gaze followed your fingers as you gently caressed the bandages above his deep cut, the pain not even registering with how gently, how lovingly you treated him. "After all, if your heart gets hurt, so does mine." He knew, deep down, he didn't deserve you. "I'll try my best, darling." Suguru smiled, hands gently finding your hips, his forehead leaning into your chest as you cradled him from your standing position. There you stayed, slowly, gently swaying in comfortable silence. You made him feel virtuous, as if mere hours ago he didn't commit horrible, unforgivable atrocities, unforgivable and damning sins. This is how most of your evenings together would go, patching him up, dancing around each other in the kitchen as you made dinner together, if he was ever home early you'd watch a movie together. Even if it was rare with the long hours he worked, those were the days he cherished, those were the days that got him through it all. You never asked for more, even though he knew you deserved every second of his time, you deserved the world and the heavens above. What were you if not a goddess, damned to mortality, damned to a life loving him. Suguru held you close as you laid in bed, the rain pattering on the window lulling you both into a comfortable half-asleep daze. He noticed the way you kept some distance, trying not to irritate his fresh wound. "Sugu," Your voice called, urging him to open his eyes and gaze down at you. Your sudden silence intrigued him, and the way your ears went pink intrigued him even more. "What is it, little lamb?" Suguru sounded tired, voice gravelly from a long day. He kissed the crown of your head, rubbing soft circles on the small of your back, urging you to talk to him about what you so eagerly wanted to get out. "Maybe one day–" You paused again, fists balling at his bare chest, "One day, would you want to start a family?" The thought had most certainly crossed his mind, on several occasions. Suguru would regularly daydream about a peaceful life of domesticity with you, a child or two, a nice house in a nice neighborhood with a nice, respectable job. He'd always snuffed the idea, knowing that he probably wouldn't live to see his child grow up properly. Still, though, the way you pressed your cheek into his arm and stared at him with wide, inquisitive eyes had him smiling sadly. "My beautiful angel... Under different circumstances, I wouldn't have to think twice." He didn't want to lie to you, but the frown tugging at your lips had his heart clenching in his chest. "We could go somewhere they can't find you, we could move somewhere warm and sunny." Suguru chuckled at your optimism, though a twinge of sadness was behind it. They would find him, no matter what he did or where he went. He didn't dare say it, he knew your response already, that's just an excuse. "That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Your silence told him everything he needed to know. There wasn't anything he could say, so instead he kissed your forehead, your cheek, your nose, then your lips. There he lingered, sighing gently when your hands moved up to his shoulders, then his neck. Heightened by your saddened state, the way you pulled him closer, fingers brushing through the hair on his neck, thumbs stroking his jawline, was all so desperate. It was your silent plea, your attempt to change a fate already set in stone. "I can't stand to see you sad, little lamb." He smiled against your lips, slowly shifting on the bed until he was hovering over you. Those eyes, the way you looked at him, so wide and clear and swimming with emotion. So pure, so untainted, so good. Everything he wasn't, and everything he strives to be. "I'll make it up to you, darling," He kissed you again, then your chin, then your neck, "I promise." Only when he received a nod of approval did he proceed, gently pulling your underwear off, oh so gently helping you lift your night shirt over your head. Never in the years you'd been together has he grown accustom to just how lucky he is to exist on this world at the same time you did. "You're so beautiful, absolutely perfect. Have I told you this?" Of course he has, but the smile on his face was so cheeky, so mischievous it made you giggle. "Maybe once or twice." Suguru returned your laugh, pulling his hair back into a bun with the hair tie on his wrist, before descending down your body. Every place he stopped, he kissed, nuzzled, nibbled, eliciting a sigh from you nearly every time. The sight of your eyes closing and head tilting back once he reached your core, giving your bundle of nerves a sweet kitten lick, was akin to seeing God. Surely it was the holiest thing he would witness in all his time on this earth. You were, after all, nothing short of an angel. Making himself more comfortable, Suguru gripped your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders. The soft look you gave him, those sweet eyes, your perfect parted kiss-plumped lips... "Beautiful," Was all he whispered into the plush skin if your thigh before parting you with his thumbs, gently kissing, licking, and sucking your sensitive clit. The long whine you emitted only spurred him on, fingers teasing your entrance by touching and squeezing everywhere but where you wanted. Admittedly, it's been a while since the two of you got intimate time together. Either he would come home too late, or too hurt, for the two of you to comfortably do anything. You never seemed to press. "I'm sorry I haven't been taking care of you, little lamb," Suguru replaced his mouth with his hands, thumb swirling circles around your bundle of nerves, while his index and forefinger ever so slowly entered your heat. He set an immediately fast pace, fox-like eyes drinking in your pleasure twisted face. The sweet sounds dripping from your mouth were like music to his ears, the arch of your back from the mattress eliciting a dark chuckle from him. "I know I haven't been the most solicitous boyfriend as of late," His fingers curled inside you at his words, "I hear you in the shower, you know." He kissed his way back up your body, stopping only briefly to flick his tongue across a pebbled nipple, stopping mere centimeters away from your lips. He wanted to bask in your whines and moans for just a moment longer, his personal hymn. "Naughty little thing, never asking for help." Suguru didn't get to tease you for long, your hands finding quick purchase on his cheeks, tugging him down and kissing him with desperate force. Your frenzied, open mouthed kisses were met ten-fold, a slow, low moan coming from him at the uncharacteristic abrasiveness you were displaying. The way your walls clenched around his fingers let him know just how bad you'd been needing him, the whispered I'm cumming against his lips. When your hand came down to palm at his very hard erection outside his briefs was when he decided he'd have to reign you in much tighter than usual tonight. Tonight wasn't about him. His fingers worked in tandem with your heaving chest, every push and pull in sync with your hurried breaths. He had half a mind to pin your arms above your head and fuck you stupid with his fingers, but he couldn't deny you of what you really wanted. "I know you're eager, darling, but be good." He saw the shiver run up your body at his authoritative tone, one he didn't use often. At the same time, he pulled down his boxer briefs and added his ring finger to your dripping cunt. It isn't that he had to, he knew you were already perfectly wet for him, he just loved the way your thin fingers gripped the sheets, the way your head thrashed from side to side. Very briefly, Suguru entertained the thought of a golden band wrapped around his finger as he defiled you with his hands. How beautiful it would look disappearing, reappearing, covered in your slick. It made his cock twitch. The second he removed his sopping fingers from you, he'd lined up the thick head of his cock with your trembling sex, leaning back with his hands on your knees. He could see the surprise on your face, your arm half-way reached to the bedside drawer to get a condom. "I know," He crooned, stroking your knee. Admittedly, the two of you weren't diligent with using condoms when you didn't have to, but he was well aware this was the week you really should be using them, lest you want unexpected surprises. Your teary eyes and beaming smile could put the pearly golden gates of heaven to shame. The way you squealed as he pushed in had his own eyes rolling back, forcing your knees apart further until he had completely buried himself to in your welcoming heat. Having been a while, he had to take a shaky breath before slowly, ever so slowly, pulling out to the tip, pushing back in with a bit more haste. How quickly, and how tightly, you wrapped your legs around his waist nearly winded him, enraptured cries of faster, please, I need you making him groan. "You poor thing, so needy," Suguru barely managed to breathe out, hips moving at a steady pace. The obscene sound of your slick sticking to his hips every time he tenderly fucked into you made him acutely aware of exactly how long its been. Ashamedly aware of how close he was to his climax, Suguru's thin fingers moved between your bodies, sliding in a quick back and forth motion against your clit at an attempt to get you closer, faster. The immediate reaction had his hips stuttering, your gummy walls clenching intensely around him, your impending orgasm pushing him over the edge. He only briefly stopped moving, whispering an apology into your hair as he tenderly flipped your body. Having you lay prone was one of your favorite positions, but it was mostly done to hide the embarrassed pink tint climbing up his neck from your gaze. White seed squished out and dripped down your sex, between your thighs, when he pushed back into you, the feeling alone having you throwing your head back and crying out for him. He continued his unrelenting pace, seeming completely unfazed by his own orgasm. "You like that, hm?" Suguru teased, a hand sliding down the curve of your hip, reaching under you, pressing his palm flat against where he felt himself protruding on your pelvis. "You like getting filled up with my cum, you want me to fuck a baby into you, darling?" His lewd words elicited muffled screams and cries of affirmation, your face buried in a pillow and biting down. Usually, Suguru would save his dirty talk for rough, frustrated, passionate sex, but how badly you needed him, begging him, to fill you up again had his mind hazy. He knew you well enough that you didn't have to tell him you were coming undone. "Such a good girl, you're so– so good, cum for me." Demanding words had you squeezing around his cock, the flutter and spasm of your orgasm urging him to move faster, harder, climbing another of his own release. Suguru was much more vocal this time around, hissing through clenched teeth, muttering sweet nothings and your name and I love you, I love you, I love you so much. Rutting and rolling his hips into you as he coated your walls white, his arm came around your chest and hugged you back against him. He pressed long, searing kisses into the shoulder his chin had been resting on, only pulling out from your messy cum-coated slick once he was sure you were satisfied with how thoroughly he bred you. You tiredly collapsed back into his chest, head turned to lazily gaze up at his equally tired, smiling face. He knew what transpired was irresponsible at best, the weight of parental responsibility already settling in the back of his mind. For now, he would simply entertain the idea. The inquisitive gaze you held had him chuckling, kissing your cheek tenderly, as if that would answer all the questions he could see you wanted to ask him. He never fed you lies, but when he told you everything will be okay, we'll find a way, I promise it sounded almost sincere enough to pass as the truth. Soft strokes of your hair lulled you to sleep, but Suguru found himself wide awake and staring at your beautiful lips, nose, lashes, the curve if your jaw, the dips of your collarbone. He found himself thinking of your words more than he should, knowing what the outcome would inevitably be. He came to the conclusion that for you, he would fight for his freedom. He would fight for you, for a family, for a normal life, somewhere warm and sunny. In this life, in the next life, in the afterlife, he would fight for you and love you with everything he had, his beautiful guardian angel.

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Ron Weasley

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Technically, you and Ron didn’t meet until fourth year but the redheaded boy had been in love with you since the moment he saw you, which was during first year at the magical school. 

- While he was certainly too shy to approach you, he did do quite a bit of staring and talking to Harry about you; though he tried to pretend as though he couldn’t care less every time he realized how in love he sounded. 

- So fourth year comes around and he’s still just as infatuated with you; and just as emotionally stunted about it, as ever. But then, it happens.  

“Hey Ginny.” 

- You waved at the redheaded girl as you passed with a few of your friends, causing her older brother to stare at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted another head. 

“How do you know y/n y/l/n?!” Ron immediately asked after you were far away enough not to hear. 

- He spent the rest of their walk questioning her as to how she knew you and how you met and if you were close and blah, blah, blah. Ginny only got him to lay off after she started teasing him for being in love with you, but even then he still sent a few hesitant questions her way, all the while insisting he wasn’t all that interested. 

- Ginny is very pleased with her newfound power. It was like the cat who got the canary the first time she brought you over and introduced you to her blushing brother. Ron could have killed her yet “kissed” her at the same time; not literally.

- Even though you now know each other and are on friendlier terms, he’s still nervous and awkward around you. He’s always messing up his words, stuttering, tripping over things, staring, etc. He’s awful with women if you weren’t aware.

- And yet, you still seem to like him, and over time he does start to relax, even though he still has his moments.

- Ron never actually asks you out, you just sort of have a silent agreement. You start to spend more alone time together, you don’t date anyone else, you share awkward yet almost tender moments, etc. Your relationship status is later solidified with a; long awaited, kiss and a kiss alone.

- Ron is very much so a spontaneous “I’m just gonna kiss her and deal with the consequences later” type of person. He’s bad at expressing his feelings with words so he’ll do it with his actions, and he’ll do it quickly before he has the chance to stop himself; usually after a surge of emotions.

- So, in typical Ron fashion, he heard some guy mention how he was thinking about asking you out, and realized that you never did establish that the two of you were an item. He immediately started to think about how much he’d hate to see you with another guy and how much he cared about you.

- Because of that, he was quite distracted when he finally saw you again. He fidgeted and seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as you walked together but just as you were thinking about saying something to him, he turned and laid one on you.

- Although you were a bit flustered and certainly very surprised, you kissed back and smiled at him as the two of you pulled away.

“I’ve been waiting to do that.” He admitted, his less confident personality returning as a blush creeped its way onto his cheeks.

- It’s in that moment that you’ve realized that you’ve fallen in love with a dork. A wonderful, beautiful dork.

- Though it tends to make him flustered, Ron is definitely a fan of pda. In the beginning of your relationship, he’s a bit defensive about it, like when his friends chuckle at you kissing his cheek or make faces at him while he’s got his arm wrapped around you, but he learns to ignore it and just brush them off. 

- Handholding. 

- Leaning your head on his shoulder. Perhaps it’s because it’s you initiating a type of affection or because it shows that you’re comfortable with him, but either way, he loves it. 

- Hugs. That’s all this boy wants. Just wrap your arms around him and let him hold you close goddamnit!

- You giving him kisses on the cheek; or anywhere else? Unparalleled. Never stop. 

- Abrupt, passionate kisses. 

- Snogging. He’s certainly a bit clumsy at first but you don’t mind; you probably are too. 

- He has a few select terms of endearment that he likes to use: darling, sweetheart, woman, my girlfriend. He doesn’t mind pet names but please stick to a simple ��babe” or “honey” and not something like “won won” (shudders). 

- Ron sleeps on his back most of the time so you’ll just usually lay your head on his chest while he wraps his arms around you. That being said, he isn’t particular about the position, and since he has a habit of snoring, you may want to try spooning. 

- Do you know how long he’s waited to brush your hair behind your ear or wipe something off your face? That little action is so important to him and even he doesn’t really know why.

- Bridal carrying and piggyback rides. Ron’s a strong boy and he likes showing it off, and feeling you holding onto him.

- Getting your food stolen.

- Playing chess. 

- Dates at Hogsmeade. Sometimes the two of you just wander around and get yourselves a little privacy from every bodies prying eyes; and third wheeling.

- Going to the three broomsticks. If Ginny is there, he will immediately ask to leave and you oftentimes find it too amusing to be annoyed.

- Obviously, Ron doesn’t have a ton of pocket money so the two of you don’t do anything too expensive. A lot of your dates consist of roaming around the castle and the grounds together, finding somewhere to sit and just enjoying each other’s company.

- Sitting in the courtyard together.

- Cheering Harry on at Quidditch together and later cheering him, Ginny and Harry on with Hermione.

- Exaggerated stories. He’s always trying to impress you and make himself or what he’s done seem cooler than it really is.

- You’re constantly making jabs at each other and lovingly laughing at the other person. How can you not tease him for being in love with Viktor Krum, it’s the only way you can make yourself feel better about his obsession.

- You can practically see the hearts in his eyes when you laugh. He loves seeing and hearing it so much.

- Compliments and flattery. Is it so you’ll do his homework? Is it genuine? The world may never know.

- Making sure he actually does his work and does it well. He would be lost without you.

- You and Hermione talking about your mutual struggles with the boys. Ron and Harry watch from afar, agreeing that your little gathering makes them nervous and wondering what you’re saying.

- He likes when you try to teach him things, it gives him an excuse to be close to and watch you.

- He’s always encouraging you and reassuring you that you’ll do great and that you can do it. He’s so sure of you that you almost feel sure of yourself.

- Although he tries to not let you know just how much he is, he’s very impressed and proud of you at just about any given moment. He’s never met someone as amazing as you.

- Sometimes he surprises you with just how much he listens. Oftentimes at random, he’ll mention something that you once said and surprise you with just how much he’s taken to remembering; sometimes purely because it came out of your mouth.

- He’s always a bit speechless when you give him a gift. Once he’s over the shock, he’ll give you a “bloody hell, thank you” and a kiss on the cheek.

- Ron’s taken on Voldemort and countless other dangers and yet you’ll still have to be the one to kill the spiders in your relationship.

- Showing him muggle stuff. Oh Godric, the amount of time his father spent asking you about the muggle world when you first visited....

- Spending summers at the burrow and writing to each other; even though he teasingly pretends that he won’t.

- Ron is the youngest Weasley boy and Molly’s a momma bear so expect to be sweetly scrutinized and then made into a part of the family.

- The twins and Ginny teasing the two of you; though they do tease him more when they’re alone with him.

- You should probably apologize to Harry I’m advance because this boy never shuts up about you to him.

- Lightly touching and checking on each other’s injuries. He’s very gentle with you when you’re hurt, he treats you like you’re made of glass.

- Ron has always sort of felt like he was second best to Harry and most of his brothers so he loves when you pay special attention to him. Listening to his stories, praising him, having eyes only for him, it all makes him feel so much better about himself.

- Trying to help him smooth things over with people; especially when it comes to Harry and Hermione. It’s awkward to not be able to talk to them because your boyfriend keeps you right by his side so you try to fix things as soon as possible.

- As we all know, Ron is an incredibly jealous person and when he gets jealous, he can get a bit nasty. He’ll most likely interrupt you and make you choose between him or the guy, wanting you to prove that he’s more important to you than them by going with him. 

- Afterwards, he insults the person he’s jealous of, maybe accidentally somewhat insulting you in the process, and tries his best to make you think the other person is a git. 

- Ron is constantly jumping to defend your honor and is always ready to fight someone to do it. He may act like an ass to you at times but he really does love you and your safety is his top priority. Nothing is going to mess with his girlfriend. 

- The two of you have quite a few fights, all of them varying in intensity. Ron isn’t good at expressing his feelings so that’s usually what leads to fighting: him just not being able to communicate properly. Sometimes you have quick, hushed arguments, leaning in close to each others faces. Other times, you’ll be having loud and harsh ones filled with insinuations and insults you don’t mean. 

- You usually give each other space, whether it’s out of respect or because you both refuse to speak to the other one first depends on the situation. He asks Harry how long he thinks you’ll stay mad at him and oftentimes asks the boy to talk to you for him, mainly to see if you’re still mad. His apologies are stilted but he does give them and knowing how he is, you usually accept them. 

- There aren’t a ton of I love you’s in your relationship, given how awkward he is most of the time; particularly when you’re younger, but he will occasionally blurt it out without thinking. 

“Bloody hell,” he’ll say in awe. “Godric I love you.”

- While times certainly get tough in the future, he’s been in love with you since he was eleven and there’s no sign of it stopping any time soon. You’ll stick by each others sides and when the dust settles, you’ll start to build that life he’s been fantasizing about. 

[littlestarrykenobi]

Spin the Bottle (Akaashi x Reader NSFW one shot)

Summary: You are tired of Akaashi’s dual personality toward you and decide to get to the bottom of it with a bottle of wine and a late night alone. 

Warnings: NSFW, name calling, quickie, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2793

The day you moved in you knew that Akaashi was going to be a troublesome roommate. The landlord assured you that the boys she already had living in the room were nice young men, one of them hardly ever home in the first place, and since you were desperate for somewhere to live before the start of term you didn’t figure that you had much of a choice otherwise.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto cheered as he set down the last box. “Barbeque dinner time yeah?! You promised!”

The door to Akaashi’s room was already shut before you had the chance to answer, leaving you alone with the silver haired extrovert. What you didn’t realize was that Akaashi had his back to the door, cheeks bright pink as he slid to the floor, staring at the ground as he tried to collect himself. He had hardly the occasion to speak two words to you before but he’d seen you on campus freshman year and now…? Well, he’d have to talk to you… unless…

You and Akaashi have been basically battling back and forth leaving each other subtle hints for nearly two months. The crush came fast, made of little reminder notes left on bathroom mirrors for both you and Bokuto and cups of coffee left hot for you on the kitchen counter in the mornings. You caught him sneaking little glances out of the corner of your eye before and it was sincerely sweet how he’d work late with you at the small kitchen table, his books spread over half of it while your side was just as messy. He’d make you little snacks at midnight, bring you coffee during especially strenuous study sessions, but when you would try and joke with him like you would with Bokuto he’d shut you out completely. It seemed almost impossible to you that these two men, so opposite in personality, could be such close companions but… You supposed that crazier things have happened.

“Oh come on Akaashi you and Bokuto have to have a little more in common than that,” You teased one evening.

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

“Well how is it that a guy like Bokuto who’s all machismo and confidence make friends with a-” You watched as his face fell, a blush on his cheeks as he shut his laptop hard.

“I should be getting to the library.”

“Wait, that came out wrong I-”

“No, no I’m not offended I really have to be going.”

Then you’d sigh and slump in your chair, working alone again. You were getting tired of how evasive Akaashi was, especially since you and Bokuto were really starting to get closer as friends.

“You just intimidate him!” Bokuto promised you one night as you sat at your favorite small dive bar. “He’s not used to having two pretty faces to deal with!”

“First off I’m not that pretty and second off how could I be intimidating?” You laughed, shaking your head as you took another sip of your drink.

“Well, okay, Akaashi only had like… Two girls he ever went on a date with that I know about. Being his best friend, I think I’d know! So… What are you going to do huh? Maybe you could get him to do a movie night when I’m gone next weekend.”

“You’re going to be gone?” You muse, thinking it over. It’d be nice to spend more time with Akaashi and besides… The mystery had a little bit of an allure to it.

As you and Bokuto walked home you thought about it more and more. Why were you so determined to be Akaashi’s friend anyway? What did it matter if he hated you or something, Bokuto was clearly happy with you being at the apartment and besides it wasn’t causing you any trouble so why did you care so damn much about this handsome fit setter? But that’s when it began to hit you. The kindness of those notes about things you had due, the thoughtfulness of how he started getting snacks he’d know you’d like for your midnight essay writing, staying up with you when he didn’t need to to cram for tests… You were starting to fall for the way he showed you how he loved you, even if he couldn’t say any of this out loud… yet. That next weekend, when Bokuto was away for a game, you were going to figure out if the seemingly insane thing your brain came up with had any merit to it whatsoever.

You hear Akaashi come home, the door slamming behind him as he dragged himself over to the couch. You could see how the semester was stressing him out, wincing as his tired eyes turned to you. He had hardly been home for the past two days, holed up in the library as finals approached.

“I turned in that paper, Y/N,” He said softly, a proud smile on his face. “I can finally relax…”

“Oh?” You smiled as you joined him on the couch, noting how he made just enough room for you but didn’t quite move far enough for there to be any more than a few inches between the two of you. “Well then it’s a perfect time for a wine night isn’t it?”

“Honestly that sounds.. really nice…” He mumbled, blushing and clearing his throat as he thought about the advice Bokuto gave him.

It’s obvious she likes you too! Just… Say yes to it! Go with what she wants to do and then you’ll figure out the perfect time when it hits, just like we always have!

That wasn’t how they always had, true, but he understood the sentiment Bokuto was getting at. Shutting down opportunities to spend time with you wasn’t helping him one bit so… Why was this so difficult? He let you run off, getting the bottle of wine and the opener before you sat back down, filling two glasses.

“To work well done and reward well earned,” You smiled, clinking glasses with him as you eased into the couch.

Akaashi blushed, nodding with the toast as he leaned back as well, absent mindedly wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his cheeks hot with embarrassment the moment he realized it. But it was too late now, wasn’t it? If he pulled away you’d for sure notice and then think he didn’t want to have his arm around you which he totally did but if he leaves his arm and you don’t want him to have his arm around you then he just comes off as creepy, doesn’t he? He’d been maintaining a distance between you two for his own protection but now that you leaned into the way his arm had been wrapped around your shoulders that had vanished into thin air… and what surprised him most was how grateful he was for its absence.

That small touch was enough to put him at ease, not thinking about how the wine flowed until you were both three glasses deep, sharing stories from high school as he told you more about how Bokuto would practically form mushrooms pouting when he messed up in Volleyball. He felt your weight shift a little to look more at him as he decided to finally get bold. A tad bit woozy, he set the glass down before taking your face in both his hands, squishing your cheeks and his legs onto the couch.

“I want… to kiss you.” He mumbled, his blue eyes flickering all over your face, trying to memorize the way you heated up as he made his infamous split second decisions. “But I cannot…” He whispered, bursting out into laughter as he fell back onto the couch, clutching his chest like his heart had been pierced with an arrow.

You crawled between his legs, leaning over him with a grin.

“I could kiss you then,” You offer, leaning in to do just that before he puts his hand over your mouth, his palm pressed to your sweet lips.

“No,” He whined, shaking his head firmly. “You can’t.”

“And why not?” You pouted, voice muffled by his hand and reminding him of Bokuto’s pout just enough to inspire a large goofy grin.

“Because if I kiss you… I wont stop… and I want to remember… everything about that, Y/N-chan.” He purred, his hand moving quickly to behind your head, pulling you down to rest your head on his chest, taking a deep breath as he held you. “I like you… a lot… And… I just want to fall asleep with you like this… Can you stay with me tonight?”

His voice had just the slightest whine to it, clearly reluctant to let you go even if it was just to walk down the hall to his room. He could hardly remember the rest of the night, his leg hooked in between yours so you couldn’t wander off, his arms wrapped around your body so you were enveloped by his warmth… He fell asleep in his clothes, not caring that he was in jeans and a button down which are arguably some of the least comfortable sleeping clothes one could wear. The next morning when his head stopped spinning he spent almost twenty minutes just staring down at you, admiring how peacefully you slept with him, sighing contentedly. This was exactly how he wanted things to be with you…

He almost began to pretend to be asleep when you woke up but the way you said his name, mumbling it before you cuddled into him… He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead softly.

“I know Bokuto-san will be home soon but… I… I wanted to…” He stammered, his cheeks getting tomato red as you looked up at him with such big loving eyes.

You didn’t give him an opportunity to finish his sentence, pressing your lips to his so sweetly he could swear that he felt a cavity pop up right as it happened. He smiled into the tender kiss, one hand gently tangling into your hair, pulling you closer as your bodies pressed to the other, desperately seeking their touch. He couldn’t fully hold back his moan as you rolled on top, happy to let you straddle him as you kissed lovingly over and over, his face radiating heat as he realized what you could probably feel despite his jeans.

“You know I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable sleeping in your dress shirt like this…” You mumble as your fingers delicately begin to work on his buttons. He lets a shiver run down his spine, the morning sunlight making you glitter like a deity above him as he lets you completely take control.

“If this is what you want I-” he whispered before you started to giggle, making him furrow his brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing,” You tease. “Last night you were all ‘oh if I kiss you I’m not stopping’ and here you are, letting me be the dominant one.”

Akaashi smirked, huffing a little as you challenged his dominance. He quickly started to help you with his buttons, slipping out of the shirt as he sat up, throwing the garment aside as he wrapped an arm around your lower back, easily flipping you onto your back. “If you’re going to hold me to my promises like that, my little flower, then I suppose I have to do my best to fulfill every last one of them.”

His hands slipped up your shirt, fingers playing with your nipples as he pressed his lips to yours again, tugging and rolling them between his fingers, trying to illicit any reaction he could as he nibbled and sucked your bottom lip, reveling in your every small moan or noise.

“Keiji,” You whine as he moves his kisses to your jaw, finding a sweet spot by your ear before going for the pleasure centers in your neck.

“What is it, my flower?” he purrs, backing off of you just enough to slide your t-shirt over your head and throw it to the side, abandoned with his own in the corner.

“Y-You said… Bokuto could-“

“I don’t want to talk about him. I want to focus on you.” He growled, clearly a little jealous that he hadn’t rid your thoughts of everything and anything but him right now.

“N-No, Keiji he could walk in on us if we a-aren’t… you know…” you mumble, blushing darkly as you melt under his intense stare.

“Well… Then I suppose I’ll have to savor you another time, hmm? I should just punish you now then, is that it? Punish you for teasing me?”

You blush, shaking your head as he pulls off your sleep shorts, smirking to see the arousal already evident. “No underwear huh?” He chuckled. “Figures. You know who finds your… dirty panties in the bathroom, don’t you?”

Your brain is practically melting now, thinking back and remembering times when you must have forgotten to pick them up after showers. You always had all of them, you thought at least, and he’d never brought them up before so you hadn’t noticed.

“What if Bokuto-san had found them, hmm? What would he have said?” Akaashi growled, his digits quickly making work to stretch you out for his waiting, throbbing member as one hand worked on undoing his jeans. “Unless that’s what all this was, hmm? Playing us against each other? So fucking dirty, aren’t you?”

He pulled away just long enough to take off his pants, leaving them exactly where he was standing as he crawled back on top of you now completely nude, still towering over you as he pressed a finger into your mouth, making you suck your own need off of them. “Now be a good little flower, won’t you? Let me fuck your brains out.”

His pace wasn’t meant to let you adjust. If you were going to bring Bokuto up, remind him how Bokuto could be back at any minute, ruin the morning he’d been dreaming of then, well, he was going to ensure your pussy would be made into a perfect sleeve for his cock regardless of what you thought on the matter. He sucked on your neck as he drilled into you, carefully hitting your sweet spots as he held your chest to his, leaving marks hungrily all along your exposed skin. Keiji didn’t care to let anyone have even the slightest opportunity to imagine you without being reminded that he’d be there. One hand slipped back down to your sex, fingers working at a furious pace to get you off as your orgasm approached. You two were practically animals in heat, howling for each other as you took advantage of Bokuto’s absence.

“Fuck I’m so close,” he muttered, not realizing that was the first thing he’d even been able to say since he’d sheathed himself into you for the first time.

“Come on,” he whispered into your neck, not letting up on his speed. “Fuck baby I need you to cum…”

He begged for your orgasm, fingers working like mad as he finally felt you climax, gasping as his eyes widened, the hand working your sex quickly going to his own as he squeezed hard around the base, pulling out as quickly as he could to spill his cum on your stomach, panting as he painted it white with his sticky juices.

“F-Fuck,” he chuckled, still shaky as he tried to catch his breath. “You certainly know how to… take it out of me…”

He sat back on his heels, admiring how beautiful you looked covered in his cum after your own orgasm. “If I had any idea where my phone was I’d take a picture but… I suppose I can wait for next time…”

“Next time?” You said, ears perking up.

He furrowed his brow, confused and a little frustrated. “Wait you didn’t think…? Boke.”

Akaashi shook his head, sighing softly with a light smile. “Let’s clean you up before Bokuto gets home alright? I think I… Can finally tell him I have a girlfriend…”

He gently stroked your cheek before getting a tissue, happily cleaning your stomach as he let you sneak back into your room, out of the view of the living room. He stood in the door to your room, wearing some casual sweatpants and an old volleyball t-shirt, wrapping his arms around your body for a moment and giving you a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s go make breakfast yeah?” he mumbled.

“I was thinking pancakes!” Bokuto laughed as he passed by the two of you, heading to his room at the end of the hall, making Akaashi freeze. “By the way, a little quieter next time yeah? Might wake the neighbors!”

[viennasneverland]

Our own little world: kierarktina.

*after my huge kierarktina breakdown yesterday, I wrote an small scene. I miss them so much 🤡*

**********************************************

Cristina was kneeling on the floor, feeling the skin of her knees covered by the soft fabric of her leggins, sitting on her legs. Her bare breasts and stomach were pressing the left side of the bed, her arms stretched in the sheets, as if trying to reach the other side, the beautiful contrast of her brown skin glowing in the dim light of sunset, and her black hair curling in her naked back and shoulders till her waist, against the cream material was enought to take anyones breath away.

She rested her chin in the silky fabric, her eyes half-closed, looking at the gold and blue eyes in the oppositive side of the bed, starting back at her. Both grinned in lazy maliciousness.

Marks hair was messy, messier than normal, the silver-blonde curls resting in his forehead, tangling in his eyelashes and covering the tip of his pointy ears. His torso was exposed, just like hers. His hands were trying to reach Cristina’s, like she was trying to reach his. If the bed was normal sized, they could touch their fingers, but it was bigger, made for the three of them.

They were stil staring at each other when she felt another hard chest pressing her back, smooth and hot skin gainst her own; still staring when strong thighs from riding infinite nights in a horses , covered in trousers, cradled the sides of hers; still staring when caloused and gentle hands runned down her shoulders, her arms, to her hands and locked their fingers together; still staring when Kieran’s cheek touched hers, his chin resting in her shoulder.

Mark’s eyes burned.

“If I was Julian I would paint this scene in the entire wall of our bedroom, so I could look at it everytime I wake up.”

Kieran chukled, his breath ghosting her cheek and nose, making the hair in her arms and in the back of her neck rise.

“You two are so beautiful.” Mark breathed, his eyes clouded, dreamy, his hands reaching for them.

“You too are not any short of beauty, golden boy.” Cristina choked when she felt Kieran’s warm mouth press a kiss in the skin under her ear, bite her lobe and lick the curve of her ear. She gasped, seeing the breath caught in Mark’s throat.

“I love the curve of her ear.” He seemed to say to Kieran, quietly. “Is so delicated and lovely.”

She heard Kieran mutter a “uhum”, his mouth still occupied kissing.

“Beautiful.” He whispered.

She shivered, closing her eyes.

Mark stared, unblinking.

She felt their attention deep down in her bones, Mark’s eyes in her face, looking as Kieran’s mouth travelled to her cheekbone and down the side of her neck; Kieran’s hands running down her naked torso to her hips, caressing her skin, the tips of his fingers sliding inside the waist of her leggins.

It was too much of two different sensations. Too hot and too soft. Burned and healed at the same time.

Finally taking her eyes off Mark, she slowly turned around to face Kieran. Her Faerie King had a soft, loving, expression on his face, his eyes dirt with desire and adoration when he also stoped staring at Mark and looked down at her.

Cristina’s heart exploded in her chest at their eyes locked. Exploded with more tenderness than any touch could offer. When you stare someone you loved in the eyes, being that close, where she could see how bright his silver eye was and how dark his black eye seemed, oh, this was an amazing felling.

She cuped his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs in his cheeks, and kissed the tip of his nose, then both his eyes, then his forehead and chin. His hands were traveling up her back, fingers fisting the hair in her nape when she, finally, kissed him on the mouth.

It was warm and soft, she could feel the corners of his lips curling in a faint smile before kissing her back, warmly. The taste of him in her mouth, his tongue exploring every inch of it, dancing with hers, left her breathless and hot. Her sensible nipples brushing the soft skin of his torso, pressing even harder when he snaked his arms around her waist and brought her closer.

When she pulled back to look into his eyes, they were on fire.

Kieran placed his head in the crook of her neck, kissing her throath, and she looked back at Mark, still looking at them with wide, discovering, eyes.

“Come here.” She said quietly, lovingly, reaching a hand for him while the other stroked Kieran’s hair.

Mark stood up and crossed the bed, crawling in his hands and knees, till he was face to face with Cristina, a soft-boy smile on the lips, his eyes full with enought adoration to make her throath tight with emotion. Smiling up at him too, she reached one hand to brush the light blonde curls back from his forehead, then behind his pointy ear, and finally cupping his cheek, the cool skin soft against her palm.

“Hi.” He said as she brushed their noses, and both breathed a soft laugh.

“What’s so funny up there?” Kieran asked against her neck, lifting his head so he could look at his loved ones faces smiling at each other.

“Mark being a dork, as always.” She answered seeing Kieran ghost a kiss in Mark’s cheek.

Cristina watched their lips meet warmly, smiling in each others mouths, and laid her head in Kieran’s shoulder, closing her eyes for a while.

She was happy. So so happy she could barely contain her emotions. Happier than she ever felt before. Those two boys were the high point of her days, the love they felt for each other was beautiful to see, and the love they felt for her was greater than she ever dared to wish, melting her heart at every word, touch and action. She felt their adoration deep down in her soul and it was perfect.

When the three of them were alone in the cottage, between Earth and Faerieland, not being one nor the other, they were in their own little world.

She opened her eyes at the silence surrounding her, the sounds the boys were making gone, and lifted her head to see what happened.

They were both staring at her. Four colors. Silver, black, blue and gold. Strange and beautiful.

“What?” she asked, her brows pinching together.

They looked at each other before looking back at her.

Faster than she could have expected, two pairs of hands lifted her from the floor, placing her quickly, but gently, in the middle of the bed. She screamed and laughed at the same time, jumping once before laying flat in the mattress. Her hair was all over the pillows, black and thick.

“What was that for?” she laughed.

“You were too quiet.” Kieran climbed to her left side, his hand trailing over her abdomen, her rib, to cup her right breast in his delicated palm.

“Quiet? She looked like she was going to sleep.” Mark did the same at her right, caressing her left breast.

She gasped.

“Just beacuse I closed my eyes didn’t mean I’m going to sleep.” She laughed breathlessly at them pinching at her nipples. “How could I?”

They laughed and laid their heads on her shoulders, their fingers still working while they pressed their noses in the sides of her neck.

“I was thinking.” Cristina said quietly, caressing their heads, her fingers throught dark blue and light blonde hair.

“About what?” Kieran asked in a low voice, his breath hot against her skin.

“About you two. About me. About us.” There was a sensual and pacific aura in the room now, the orange light of the sunset passing throught the huge window, it’s warmness reaching right above them. “About how happy I am with you two. How lucky.”

Mark lifted his head to kiss her temple and look into her eyes.

“We are the lucky ones too.” He said lovingly. “There is no person as kind, wise, brave and loving as you, Cristina.” He said fiercely. “Without you I would be lost in several moments when I came back to my family and even after. You are still what keeps me sane sometimes. Still what guides me. I could not be more grateful and honored by your love.”

“My heart goes with what Mark says.” Kieran said, kissing her cheek. “Your kindnes and caring showed me a new perspective about situations, Lady of Roses. Growing up surrounded by fairies can make everything look black and white. Still, you showed me new colors. You had faith on me and gaved me new chances when I tought I didn’t deserved it.” He caressed her hair back. “I am honored by your love as well.”

When they finished, her eyes burned with tears.

“I hate you both.” She covered her face with her hands, sounding muffled.

They laughed and took each one of her wrists, placing her hands above their hearts while kissing the tears in the corner of her eyes.

A greater love than any other emotion, indeed. She lets them kiss every inch of her face, caress every corner of her body, the three of them in a tight and loving embrace, enjoying the company and love in their small world.

[ellitx]

ahhh elli!!! I have an angsty thought!!!! what about being married to himmel (or venti, whichever twin you choose), being so utterly in love with him with a kid and another on the way. you've both loved eachother for what feels like eons, having known both the twins since childhood and finally confessing to himmel as adults. life with him is so perfect, he's the perfect husband, the perfect father, the perfect everything. he draws you baths when your tired and stressed, takes amazing care of the kids for you with such a tender love, never fails to remind you just how much you mean to him; it's like you're living in a fairytale.

except there's just one problem.

the other twin is in love with you too.

they're forced to watch as you interact with their twin with so much love and tenderness in your eyes, forced to be there at your wedding, forced to be the perfect uncle to your kids, everything, all while forcing himself to not tell you just how much he too loves you for the sake of preserving your relationship with the other twin.

as much as he loves seeing you happy, he wishes you were happy with him instead. -saekogun

Ahsjso yeees!!!! The other twin would think perhaps he’s not enough for you. What does his brother have that he did not have? Why can’t he be perfect just like him? Why did you choose him? Why not him instead?!

They’re both musically inclined, talented, using grandiloquent language to flatter you and perhaps even humor you. He and his brother are pretty much similar yet why did you pick him?

Mimicking his twin didn’t even change your thoughts on him. Is it better if he just… copied everything about him? From personality-wise to even his mannerisms… but you already know the differences between them. He hates it, but he doesn’t want to hate his brother just because he stole you from him.

During the wedding, he’s always smiling. Acting as if he’s a proud brother and honored to be the best man for the wedding. But the more their life progresses, the more it hurts him.

Now there’s already a family. Little kids running around your house and calling you and your husband mommy and daddy. When his brother asked him to visit them, he felt sick just even staying a single second in your abode. The way his hands are around your waist, it feels like he’s being mocked that he lost.

The winner is him. Showing you and his children off to him to tell him who already won your heart. The bitterness and anguish is filling him up thoroughly but perhaps he’s just overthinking. That’s right. His brother won’t ever do that to him. There’s no way he’d act like that.

Then he noticed how you’d always look at his twin so fondly and lovingly, caressing his face and kissing his eyelids.

Oh…

So that’s what you love about him?

His eyes.

They remind you so much how beautiful the world is, isn't it? He remembers the promise of how you want to travel the world together with them. To see the skies and seas, enjoy the freedom and peacefulness of being together so carefree and buoyant to feel the breeze brushing your skin.

Why didn’t he think of that before? The answer was already obvious. The difference in their eye color is an obvious thing why’d you marry his counterpart.

Then perhaps… maybe this is the last piece for him to finally become like his brother.

[svnflowervol666]

Crisp Trepidation (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Author’s Note: Here she is! The promised “Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready” fic. I ended up liking this a lot more than I thought I would, so I hope you all do as well! Take care and TPWK. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I don’t, actually. I’m being honest when I tell you she is the cutest baby I have ever seen in my life. Those curls! Are you kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers. 

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Lisa, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it correctly into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

She lovingly squeezed the extra chub around her thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, but it’s even better to breastfeed when you can. Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?”

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Harry’s giant head, though, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Lisa laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, knowing good and well what Y/N meant. She scribbled notes onto the file attached to her clipboard, checking off the baby’s progress and coinciding what the nurse that came in before her documented about her length and weight.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Harry’s really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Lisa re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Lisa’s head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Harry been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Lisa was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, she thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Lisa was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Lisa’s face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

//

Harry came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the curry that she’d been oh-so so excited about earlier in the week and swaying along to the playlist they’d curated together as she stirred a pot filled with vegetables was. Their grocery store had been out of coconut milk for several weeks and she’d nearly tackled him to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with it the night before, so he found it awfully strange that she’d yet to start cooking it. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Her coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?”

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times. 

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Harry could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff that was teetering on the line of becoming a full blown beard to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. Or maybe she was keeping to herself peacefully somewhere else in the house and she was being so quiet that he just couldn’t hear her.

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the wooden door tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife. 

Good. She was sleeping. 

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings about his tour schedule that forced him to dress nicely. 

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects about his everyday life with his family like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Or maybe it was the understanding that by this time next year, he’d be halfway across the globe and physically unable to hold her in his arms. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his rings into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quite yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Honey? ‘S that you?” Harry peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door. 

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“Ye’ sick? Can hear ye’ snifflin’.”

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Harry cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Harry tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for her again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk t’ me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Harry could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so. 

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.” 

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Harry asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib.

“‘S she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Harry worry.

“I was telling Lisa about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list. 

“And?” he asked after a solid sixty seconds of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Harry whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, H,” Y/N quipped.

“‘S not what I meant,” Harry fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many curly-headed babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present was going to be the gift of being a big sister. 

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. None of tha’,” Harry shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her shoulders tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of joy and celebration and relief after having tried for what felt like years. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled blouse, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“Wha’ do yeh mean, pretty? Of course yeh can. I’ll move some things around and we’ll make it work. We’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her back in attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Harry.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“You have to move everything around. You’ve already been gone for almost two years. This sets you back at least another. You can’t keep pushing shit back.”

“Erm,” Harry paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Yes I can? I couldn’t care less about tour...Did yeh think I was gonna leave yeh here on your own with a fuckin’ newborn?”

“No. I didn’t think you were just going to leave,” she almost sounded annoyed, which didn’t sit quite right with Harry.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there t’ do? Tour can wait.”

“People are counting on you, Harry. Millions of them. We’re not the only ones that matter in this situation.”

“Will you please tell me what yeh gettin’ at, because I’m starting t’ get upset.” 

Harry’s lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this? 

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And yeh think I’m not? ‘M tryin’ my best to keep it together for your sake if yeh haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending how the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one carrying our fucking child. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to push a football-sized human out of your vagina and just lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Harry was yelling now.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting tha’ it was. ‘M not sure what it is that yeh want me t’ say though. I’m sorry? ‘S that it? Sorry for gettin’ yeh pregnant? Sorry for havin’ a job that were well fuckin’ aware of when yeh met me? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fuckin’ planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Harry,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not makin’ any fuckin’ sense! Are yeh tellin’ me yeh don’t want t’ keep it? ‘Cos I never fuckin’ said that yeh have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands. 

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Harry’s hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe f’ me. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Harry peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just encountered had stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Harry’s hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Harry’s hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Harry the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

//

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with chocolate brown curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Harry’s. Her nose? A perfect, narrow line down her face that led to a button-shaped tip akin to Harry’s. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of bubblegum pink as Harry’s. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother were the color of her eyes, which was funny considering that was the one thing she’d wanted Harry to pass down to their daughter; Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Harry before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. He had changed out of his dress clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of joggers that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistant on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it, nothing sexual or erotic whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Harry loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Harry’s continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“‘M sorry for yelling at yeh,” Harry started.

“It was uncalled for.”

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“’S not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one havin’ the baby. It’s you that’s got t’ do all the hard stuff. Should’ve listened to you more.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?”

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Harry could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his. 

“I love you so much. Yeh know that? I know it’s difficult always having t’ think about everyone else, but you’re what’s important t’ me. I’d drop everything for you if I had to. End it all today.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you.”

“Well, just know that I would if yeh wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want t’ be here f’ you. For her. Don’t want t’ miss anything. I finally got my shot at bein’ normal when I met you and I hate myself for even thinkin’ about going back on the road and leavin’ yeh.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“You’re a good person, Harry. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Harry’s chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Lisa to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his jumper against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face. 

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Harry jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Harry spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She clearly wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known she was pregnant up until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have t’ have one birthday party ‘cos they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go t’ the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Based on the fact that you’ve already picked out the outfit this one is wearing on her first birthday that’s still six months away, I highly doubt you’ll stay keen on them sharing a party.”

Harry pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the garment he’d spotted during one his fittings with Gucci that he vowed to have for his daughter.

“Guess you’re right about tha’.”

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Harry could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Harry’s heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together, but it’s possible that the topic might not have even come up if he had been in the room with her and the pediatrician.

“Found coconut milk at the store the other day, remember? Want me t’ make that curry for yeh?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately purked up at the thought of warm spices and rice.

“Starting to wonder if curry was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?”

Harry giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought tha’ was a bit weird that yeh wanted it so badly, but I didn’t dwell on it too much.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“‘Ve got it, mama” Harry quickly refuted.

“Take a bath or somethin’ and I’ll bring it up t’ yeh when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Harry used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now. 

Of course, she wanted more children with Harry. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did. 

With two babies.

[gubler-me-up]

Unsung Heroes

Request: Hi! I just found your account and I am in LOVE. I know this is a sort of very specific ask, but could you write Spencer Reid dating a masculine/trans masculine person? I think it would be really cool so yeah lol thank u in advance 🥺🥺💖💖 (ur literally so damn talented)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, anon! Sorry it took a long time to get to but I’m glad I’m getting it out before the end of the year. This is my first masc trans reader fic out of two in my requests, so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know if there is anything I can improve on or anything you would like to see in my next masc trans spencer reid fic that I didn’t portray well here. I did a bit of research to make sure my portrayal was accurate but I am always open to improving my work especially so readers feel comfortable and represented while reading. Hope you enjoy and happy reading! 💕

Couple: Spencer Reid/Masc trans!reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: None just pure ~fluff~

Word count: 2.5k

————-

You threw on your favourite flannel to complete your outfit. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time to fix your hair properly before Spencer arrived. He might not be a fan of styling his hair but making sure your hair was to your liking was your thing. Especially after getting a fresh cut it was important to you that you made the best of it before your hair started to grow back.

You then quickly checked your beard to see if there were any noticeable razor bumps. You didn’t see any visible ones but the ones below the surface were always the dangerous ones. You ran your hand over your beard to feel for any up and coming bumps. You stopped your finger over a spot that felt tender to the touch.

“Ah, you already feel as if you’re going to be a pain,” you mumbled to yourself.

You heard soft knocks on your door before you could continue your battle with your soon to be razor bump. You grabbed your wallet and keys off of your dresser before leaving your bedroom to answer the door. You opened the door to see Spencer standing in front of you with his hands gripped on his satchel strap and an excited smile plastered on his face.

He gently lifted his satchel to bring your attention to it. You chuckled as you saw how full it looked. You looked at him with a quizzical expression as he started to laugh himself.

“I thought we could read some light literature as we indulge in these breakfast burritos you’re so excited about,” he said.

“I haven’t read a good book in a while let alone encyclopedias,” you chuckled.

“They’re not all encyclopedia’s. Just one,” he said.

You laughed as you closed the door behind you. You didn’t believe him one bit about only having one encyclopedia in his satchel but you weren’t going to overly tease him about it. You were more interested in him trying a breakfast burrito for the first time.

You originally didn’t get the hype over breakfast burritos for a while until you were running late to work one morning and saw a food truck nearby. They convinced you to try their breakfast burrito and you’ve been loyal to them ever since. You knew Spencer was more of a coffee and go person but you thought he might enjoy trying something new.

“We’ll find out the truth after we get something to eat,” you said.

Spencer smiled and nodded as he loosened his grip on his satchel strap. He let his hand loosely fall to his sides. You smirked as you reached your hand out to him and he immediately grabbed it. To say he was forever touched starved was an understatement.

You were glad you could give him something he didn’t already have plenty of in his life. Touching books and case files all day definitely couldn’t give him the physical touch he deeply desired. You were happy every day for the past six months you could be the one to embrace him in any amount of touch. Bonus points for him always smelling good as well.

Spencer pressed the button for the elevator. “Are these breakfast burritos really as good as you say they are?”

“You’re doubting me now?” You asked.

“No, I would never do that. I’m just saying we sometimes have different tastes in things,” he said.

“Oh? What kind of things?” You asked.

“Well, you prefer listening to more contemporary artists while I’m more into classical,” he said.

“Musical taste is whatever though. I can get down to Mozart any day,” you chuckled.

He laughed. “Well, you take your coffee with oat milk and three brown sugars. I take mine black with a little sugar.”

“If you think half the sugar canister is a little sugar then I don’t wanna know what you consider a lot of sugar.”

You both laughed as the elevator doors opened. You both stepped into it and you pressed the lobby floor. You looked at him with a smirk before grabbing his chin. He smiled at your touch as he looked lovingly into your eyes.

“What?” He asked.

“I think there’s one thing we can both agree we have good taste in,” you said.

You leaned in and kissed Spencer on the lips which you knew he longed for. He didn’t hesitate to embrace you fully into his mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever kissed a guy with softer lips than him. He latched his hands onto your face and started to stroke his thumb against your beard. It ran over the growing razor bump but you didn’t mind if he touched it.

You parted your lips from him before you changed your mind and opted to spend the day with him in your apartment. He chuckled and didn’t move his hands away from your face. It didn’t seem as if the good doctor was quite finished with you.

“You want another taste?” You joked.

He nodded. You obliged and leaned in to kiss him again. You could have him for breakfast all day every day. Since breakfast was taken up by a breakfast burrito with your names on it, you guessed you could have him for lunch instead.

————

You and Spencer had found a rock to sit on near the lake. The park was quite full for a Sunday morning but with such nice weather you couldn’t blame people for wanting to be out and about so early. You watched Spencer carefully as he took his time eating his breakfast burrito. You couldn’t quite tell if he liked it or not based on his blank stare into the water as he ate.

“How do you like it?” You asked.

He quickly snapped out of his long gaze into the water. He looked over at you and smiled but it couldn’t fool you. You knew something was running around that big brain of his and you wanted to know what.

“I like it. It’s definitely an interesting concept,” he said as he took another small bite.

“Spence, what’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head in response to you as he finished chewing. You gave him a second to finish whatever was left in his mouth before he started talking. He let out a drawn-out sigh before licking his lips.

“I was going over case files this week and went over this one from a few years ago. This little boy’s family was murdered  and he was the only survivor. Found out he left his aunt and uncle’s house to go into foster care. Apparently, he’s been having a hard time no matter where he goes,” he said.

“Well, from being a human I can tell you family sucks but from working in social work I can tell you the foster care system sucks. It’s hard to look at some of these cases and talk to these children having a hard time for sure,” you said.

“I just don’t feel as if I’m making a difference,” he confessed.

You shook your head in protest. If anyone was making a difference it was Dr. Spencer Reid. You knew how doubtful he could be of his capabilities sometimes but you knew he just needed a little reminder here and there.

“Are you kidding? You’re out here risking your life to catch serial killers every day and you don’t think you’re making a difference?” You asked.

“But it just stops there. The lives ruined never get fixed. The survivors never know a sense of peace. I just help solve cases and then move onto the next thing,” he said.

“You don’t have to deal with the social work or therapy side of these cases because there are people who take that area over for you. You do enough, Spence,” you said.

“And you do the most, Y/N. You’re so good at social work and when you’re not doing that you’re dedicating your time volunteering for homeless youths,” he said.

“It’s easy to volunteer though. Anyone can do it,” you said.

“And here I am not doing that.”

Spencer stared back into the depths of the water as he took another bite from his breakfast burrito. A bigger bite this time. You were honestly impressed. He probably took a bigger bite so he had more time to chew and less time to talk about his worries. A true genius.

You looked into the water yourself. The waves coming in reminded you of what one of your coworkers said to you once. You laughed to yourself which brought Spencer’s attention back to you.

“You know when I first told one of my coworkers I was transgender they asked if my transitioning period felt as if that one scene in Mulan where she looked at her reflection and knew she was supposed to reflect who she was inside and then decided to pretend to be a man to go into war on behalf of her father. I said not exactly and before I could explain to them why their analogy wasn’t really accurate, they hugged me and said they were proud I was able to reflect who I was inside on the outside,” you said.

“The lake reminded you of your coworker’s ignorance?” He questioned.

You chuckled. “No, it reminded me of that scene in Mulan and then that reminded me of my coworker’s ignorance. That being said though they did tell me how a lot of people they know are unsung heroes. I asked what they meant by that and they said unsung heroes are people who are trying their best but aren’t acknowledged or are overlooked by others or themselves.”

“Are you trying to say I’m a little harsh on myself?”

“Just a little.”

He looked back out into the lake again. You could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought about what you said. You continued to enjoy your breakfast sandwich as you let him ponder on your words. Usually it was the other way around and the words you were pondering were a bit more complex but you were nonetheless glad you could get him thinking.

By the time he looked at you, your burrito was nearly done. His whole time thinking he hadn’t taken another bite of his burrito. You didn’t know if you were happy he was about to talk to you about his insights or upset because he made a good breakfast burrito get cold.

“You don’t think I’m an unsung hero do you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Of course not. I think you’re just a hero who wants to save the whole world at once but can barely finish a breakfast burrito.”

He chuckled. “This thing’s huge.”

“And so is the world but just like your bites, you have to solve issues within it in small nibbles,” you joked.

He laughed as he took another bite out of it. He tried to chew it with a smile on his face but you knew he hated the fact it was cold. You laughed at him as he swallowed the remains of his bite. He carefully wrapped his half-eaten burrito before looking at you with a wide smile. You were glad to see him smiling again and the doubt lifted from his face.

“I think you’re right,” he said.

“You think I’m right? Say that I’m right again and you might just have to hand over your Ph.D. to me,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Which one?”

You both laughed. When Spencer made a joke, it was definitely one for the books. However, when he made a good joke it was one for the history books. You believed the longer you two are together the better his humour could become.

“All jokes aside, I want to spend my free time volunteering with homeless youths with you,” he said.

You looked at him surprised but a smile soon appeared on your face. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He looked at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his filled with hope. You nodded your head.

“I would love for you to volunteer with me. I think the kids would love learning a thing or two from you,” you said.

“Teach?” You said.

“Yeah. Every Friday we teach youths a different arrangement of skills that will help them in life. It’s a great sight seeing them have hope in their eyes again. I first started with counselling transgender youths in the program and have branched out to other members of the LGBTQ2S+. I now help homeless youths who have been victims of physical abuse. It’s definitely hard stuff to hear but seeing their faces when they know they’re being helped through their problems is the biggest reward I could ever ask for.”

Throughout your whole speech you could see tears at the brim of Spencer’s eyes. He tried to wipe his eyes before any tears could fall out but you already knew you had touched his soft spot. He smiled brightly at you before letting out a soft chuckle.

“I hope they like physics,” he said.

You laughed. “Taught the Dr. Spencer Reid way, I think they will have a new appreciation of the science.”

You both broke out into laughter again. You broke the laughter by kissing him on the lips. You could never get over how happy he looked every time you kissed him.

“I love you, Spencer,” you said.

He grinned. “I love you too, Y/N.”

“How about we get you some real breakfast and head back to my place for lunch?” You said.

You stood up on the rock and placed your hand out for Spencer to use to get up. He gladly grabbed onto it as you hoisted him up. For someone with a Ph.D. in physics you would think that he would have a better sense of how to balance. It was just another cute quirk of his you loved.

“Some real breakfast?” He questioned.

“Yeah, your coffee with a “little” sugar,” you said.

“Ah, my real breakfast. So what’s going to be for lunch?” He asked.

You grabbed his hand to hold as you two walked through the park. You smirked at him as you looked him up and down. He blushed as he let you examine him from head to toe.

“Your encyclopedia’s of course,” you said.

“Wait, what? Why my encyclopedia’s?” He asked.

“Ah-ha, so there are more than one in your bag,” you said.

He sighed. “Was this your way of making me confess that you’re right again?”

“Yes.”

“So there’s no lunch?”

“You’re lunch.”

“Ah, I see you’re on a diet then.”

“You know what? I love that my humour’s rubbing off on you so well.”

“I think it’s a sign we belong in each other’s life for a long time to come.”

You laughed. “I’m not the romantic type but I have to agree.

“So how come I’ve told all my friends from work you’re the most romantic person I know?”

“Oh? I guess I’ll show you how romantic I can be during lunch.”

—–

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @bluerose512​ @laneybobeczko-g​ @averyhotchner​ @littlewierdalien @cynbx @mggsprettygirl​

[gaycrouton]

making it personal

post-one son | msr | smutty | 1/6k | ao3

mulder coming over to scully’s apartment to make amends

"You're making this personal."

The words danced in her head as she laid on her bed, wrapped in a towel, warm, and flushed from the shower. She felt hot tears of indignant fury stream down her cheeks as she stared blankly at the ceiling. How could he say that to her? After all she-after all they had been through?

A sob ripped from her throat and the force made her body bounce on the bed, only for her to freeze when she heard the sound of her front door shutting. She sat up quickly, glancing from nightstand to nightstand as she heard heavy footsteps quickly coming down the hallway.

"Scully?" Mulder's familiar voice called out, and she half considered that, despite the comfort of it not being a home invasion, maybe she should keep looking for her gun anyway.

"What, Mulder?" she snapped, moving so her feet were dangling off the side of the bed while she was clutching her towel to her chest, not having enough time to grab a robe.

Suddenly he was in the doorframe, his eyes widening and darkening at the sight of her. But instead of letting her get dressed, he closed the distance, coming to stand right in front of her knees. "Mulder," she admonished, surprised at his sudden proximity to her.

"Scully, I'm so sorry," he lamented.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she spat, not prepared to let a simple apology excuse what he'd said.

"I'm exactly where I need to be right now. There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he stated firmly.

She didn't respond and Mulder was silent for a moment as she just stared forward, looking through him. Then she felt one hand cup her cheek and coaxed her face upwards towards him. "You've been crying," he whispered, his face taking on a perfect mask of sadness and regret.

"How could you say that to me?" she asked, her voice cracking as a tear slid down her cheek, his thumb not quick enough to catch it before it hit her chest. "I thought I meant more to you than that. After all we've been through."

"Scully," he whispered, sitting down next to her on the bed. He was so close that his body moving against hers started to undo the fold of the towel, dragging it down slightly before she brought her hand up and clutched the fabric to her chest. Her nudity was the least of her concerns right now. "You're so much more than you could ever know."

"You don't give me a chance to know, Mulder!" she snapped, her voice rising. "Ever since Diana Fowley came back into your life, you've made me feel like second best. A consolation prize. It's obvious how much you prefer her to me." She didn't care if she was being catty, she was sick of holding her feelings in.

"Last I've checked, my name is on most of those files," she continued. "I have a file dedicated to me because of my personal interest in our work. What has she done other than turn our lives upside down?"

"You're right," he agreed.

That had been what she wanted to hear, but wasn't expecting, and it caused her to turn and look at him. He was so close to her and he was looking at her with such tenderness and affection. "Diana is insignificant compared to the way I feel about you, Scully. You have to know that."

She felt her breath hitch at his admission. "The way you feel about me?" she repeated, her voice breathier than she'd wanted.

Instead of answering, he leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss to her lips. It caused her to gasp and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth and deepen the kiss, gliding his tongue against hers tentatively. When she opened her mouth more in acceptance, he took initiative to put one hand on her waist as the other slid into her hair.

Mulder was kissing her and the thought made her feel light headed. Not only was he kissing her, but he was phenomenal at it; she'd never felt so aroused by just a kiss alone. He pulled back when he needed a breath, but barely took time to do so before his lips were at the column of her throat.

"How could you ever think she'd mean more to me than you?" he asked, nipping and soothing her skin.

Scully barely felt coherent as she felt her body humming in response to his touch, her core aching with throbbing need. "You don't listen to m-ah!" she whimpered as he nipped at the skin beneath her ear.

His hand tightened in her hair and the feeling of the strands being pulled made her whole body shiver, much to his delight. Mulder pulled away to look at her, his face only a few inches from her own. "I hang off your every word, Scully. Without you, I'm lost."

He pressed his mouth to hers again, and this time he brought a hand up to hers and loosened her grasp on the towel, causing it to flutter down into her lap. His hand quickly found her breast as if it was second nature, and he tweaked her pebbled nipple while exploring the weight in his palm.

He moaned into her mouth and she felt her arousal start to dampen the towel she was sitting on. Mulder pulled away again and rasped, "I'm going to show you how much you mean to me."

Scully's brain could hardly focus on what he was saying since she was so drunk with lust. She watched as he fell to his knees in front of her and parted her thighs, baring herself to him. "You're so beautiful," he praised, using two fingers to tentatively part her labia. She gasped and her toes clenched as she felt him gently press into her with one finger, her heat clamping down on the digit.

His eyes fluttered shut as he pushed in deeper, curving his finger right on her g-spot as if he instinctively knew where it was. A breathy, high-pitched whine left her lips as her body reacted to the sensation. "Is this okay?" he asked huskily, his voice lower than she'd ever heard before.

It sent a bolt of arousal down her spine, and she had no doubt he felt her get wetter around his finger. "M-more," she begged.

He nodded and slid a second finger in, stretching her walls around him. Scully's head fell onto her shoulder as her back arched slightly, wanting to bring him deeper in. Her eyes had closed for only a moment before she felt a new, inexplicably wonderful sensation erupt on her clit. She opened her eyes an was met with the sight of Mulder with his mouth on her, his eyes boring into hers while he continued fucking her with his fingers.

"Oh my god," she moaned, undulating her hips against him in needy desperation.

She usually only could come this fast when she was by herself, but she was being driven crazy, overwhelmed and fully consumed by Mulder. Those lips she'd spent so many years looking at were currently playing with her clit and driving her wild. His tongue was dancing between pressure and gentle flicks and she swore she was incoherent with lust.

"Do you have any idea the things you do to me?" he rasped, the vibrations against her making her legs quiver on his shoulders.

She did have an idea, she could feel the bed move from the way he was grinding against it. As if his hips were desperately mimicking what his fingers were doing. She could tell he could barely contain just how much he wanted to fuck her, but he was putting her first and it made her feel loved.

"You're incredible," he groaned before flicking his tongue against her.

Her breath started hitching and she began squirming on the bed uncontrollably, her orgasm building rapidly and she couldn't handle how much she wanted it. Mulder picked up on the signs of her impending orgasm and became unrelenting in his efforts, his tongue not letting up while his fingers rubbed against her g-spot.

She gasped a lungful of breath as her orgasm tore through her, feeling like her entire body was set ablaze from Mulder's touch. Her hands clutched the bedspread while her hips bucked against him and her legs shook. Mulder rode out the orgasm with her, hips grinding against the mattress in desire of his own climax.

He pulled his mouth off of her and grinned at her breathlessly, her arousal coating his mouth. He kissed the inside of her thigh lovingly before whispering her name, "Diana."

Scully's eyes shot open as adrenaline coursed through her body. Her towel had fallen off because of her ministrations and her hand was shaking in between her legs.

Her face crumpled as her fantasy shattered around her. Mulder wasn't here, and none of that was true. She couldn't even convince herself she mattered to him more than Diana in her own fantasy.

It had felt like they'd been getting closer, like there was a chance something might happen. But she was never one to listen to her heart before her mind, and she'd waited. Now, by the time she'd finally allowed herself to acknowledge just how much she loved Mulder, she was too late.

It was all far too personal for her now, and she felt her heart start to ache in her chest.

[squiggledrop]

Day 13: Kissing in the Snow - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Ficmas 2020

Listen to my Christmas Playlist!

Summary: Ficmas Day 13

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Sundays were your favorite days. If you weren’t on a case, it meant you had Spencer all to yourself. The two of you often opted to spend your time relaxing, just enjoying the others company. Having no obligations for the day also meant sporting pajamas all day. Spencer wore plaid pajama bottoms and a grey t-shirt, whereas you donned one of his old sweatshirts and light grey sweatpants.

You were laying next to Spencer on the couch with your head resting in his lap. He was currently reading a book, while one of his hands came down to gently stroke your hair. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, but being around you and touching you in small ways like this always calmed him. He liked the physical reassurance that you were there, even if his conscious mind wasn’t fully aware of it.

You closed your eyes, the peaceful sound of the fireplace and Spencer turning the pages of his book relaxing you. You took in a deep breath, the scent of the burning of the logs filling your lungs. Spencer felt you shift beneath him, turning over so the back of your head was pressed against his chest. You brought the hand that rested by your head up to your lips, placing a tender kiss on his knuckles. Spencer smiled at the gesture, peeking down at you from the top of his book. You turned your attention towards the window across from the couch, admiring the calmness of the day. Upon looking outside, however, Spencer felt your head spring up from his lap, causing him to abruptly put down his book and look at you with concern. Before he could ask what was wrong, you squealed with excitement.

“It’s snowing!”, you gasped, while your head flipped back and forth between the falling snow and your boyfriend. “Spence! It’s snowing!”. You ran towards the window, eagerly looking out at the light dusting of white that was accumulating across the ground. Spencer’s chuckles at your vivacious excitement rang throughout the room, as he got up and followed you to the window.

“Yes it is”, he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your shoulder. You admired the snow for a moment longer, before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door.

“Let’s go outside, come on!”. You threw your boots on and opened the door before Spencer could begin to protest.

“(Y/n), are you serious?”, he called after you. You giggled down the stairs, hearing him struggle to put on some shoes behind you.

“I want to feel the snow!”, you called after him, running outside. When you made it to the outside of your building, you closed your eyes, breathing in the cold air. You spread your arms out and let the snowflakes delicately fall onto your body. You heard the door to your apartment building open, followed by the heavy breathing of your boyfriend.

“(Y/n), it’s freezing”, he scolded, placing your jacket around your shoulder. You opened your eyes and turned to him, watching as he put on his own jacket. You looked down, seeing in his rush to follow you outside, he had put on two different pairs of shoes.

“You know I loved the mismatched socks”, you said looking down at his feet, “but, I’m not sure if the whole mismatched shoe thing will catch on”. He grimaced slightly as you laughed, pulling him in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, well, if someone hadn’t ran out here in their pajamas like a crazy person, maybe I wouldn’t have had to grab the first two things I saw”. He shook his head, laughing at the innocent smile you gave him.

“But come on”, you smiled, “it’s snowing. Isn’t it magical”. You looked around, taking in how the flurries lightly coated your surroundings. Spencer admired the way your hair glistened while dusted in snow and couldn’t help the smile that made its way to his lips.

“I suppose so”, he amused. You turned back around, looking him in the eyes.

“You suppose?”, you joked, smirking at him.

“Well, it’s pretty magical because you’re here with me”.

“Aw, Spence”, you cooed. His cheeks flushed, partly due to the cold, but mostly because of the way you looked at him with all the love in the world. You stepped towards him, placing your hands on his blushed cheeks. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you towards him and connecting your lips.

The kiss was soft and tender, neither of you feeling the need to deepen it. You cherished the feeling of the other, the warmth of their breath, and how nice it felt to just be together.

“But you know what’s even more magical?”, he mumbled against your lips.

“What?”, you whispered, smiling into the kiss.

“Radiators”, he deadpanned. You pulled apart, neither of you able to contain your laughter.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you out of the cold”, you giggled. You linked his arm with yours and started making your way back inside. Spencer pulled you into his side, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Sorry for making you rush out here”, you looked up at him. “I’ll try to contain to contain my excitement next time”, you smiled sheepishly.

“Don’t you dare”, Spencer said, looking at you seriously. “It’s one of the things I love most about you”, he smiled softly. You gleamed up at him as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, running your thumb over the back of his hand. “Just, um, maybe wait until we can put on something warmer”, he teased. You lovingly rolled your eyes, opening the door to your apartment.

“I’ll try”, you smirked, taking off your boots. You started to make your way back towards the couch, but you felt Spencer grab your wrist. You turned towards him, but were met his lips latching onto yours. When he pulled back, he placed another quick kiss on your nose.

“Sorry”, he whispered while lost in your eyes, “you had a few snowflakes on your lips, and I didn’t want you to get cold”.

“Thanks”, you said, biting your top lip. “I think you still have a few snowflakes on you as well”, you smirked.

“Oh, yeah?”, he teased. You shook your head and hummed in response. “Care to show me where?”, he smiled.

“Gladly”, you smirked, leaning back in towards him.

Although Spencer wasn’t as much of a fan of the cold as you were, he wouldn’t mind moving to the arctic if it meant getting to spend all of his days like this.

[kurinoot]

[day 1] one box of chocolates | tendou satori

-> you’ve been wanting to surprise your boyfriend with your own batch of chocolates and better yet, grace him with your presence this coming valentines. to your shock, you got more than what you thought it would be.

pairing: tendou x reader

themes: fluff, post-timeskip

word count: 2125 words

author’s note: I can’t believe I’m writing again! hahaha, and tendou being my first haikyuu character to create a fic uwu anyways, he was kinda hard to write on as he only got shots from seasons 3 and 4, so this may somehow seem ooc but please, I do accept constructive criticisms :) enjoy!

btw, I added a music in specific parts of the story so you can play them if you want so as to add some touches while you’re reading :)

"Ah, I hope the chocolates haven't melted yet!", you sigh tiredly with worry as you scramble your hand inside your carry-on bag, carefully checking your box of handmade chocolates as you make your way through the bustling Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport. The almost 14-hour non-stop flight has definitely taken a toll on you and the jet lag is definitely not helping you either.

You finally feel the cold air kissing your skin as you drag your way out of the airport, gingerly carrying your baggage all the while ensuring that your handmade gift is in good hands. Apparently, you weren't informed that Paris in February would require you more layers of clothing than what the thin sweater you’re wearing could offer. With a rush, you immediately went to the nearest vacant taxi. You rattled your brain for some basic French, muttering a soft “Bonjour” as you pinpoint the driver to your phone, showing him your destination. After a while, you finally feel the weight of the jet lag in your body. You deeply sigh as you finally let yourself sink in the back seat of the taxi. The driver seemed to know something, if you fumbling with your words and the way you slumped on the back seat was a sign.

"Rough day, mademoiselle?", the driver asks you in English (to, at least, your surprise) with a rough French accent, smiling. You brighten up a bit despite the stress, "Uh yes, monsieur. Am I right? It's probably the jet lag, but yeah.".

"Don't worry, your basic French is good! So, what is a young mademoiselle doing here alone? And on Valentines’ Day?”

“Ah merci! I’m actually here to visit this chocolate shop.”, you reply with a bright smile as you pinpoint your phone to the said location once again. He grins, to your surprise.

“Ah yes! That shop is actually famous around these parts, especially this Valentines’ season. Although, the owner is quite weird and even creepy for most people from what I heard around here.”, he mentions, and despite getting accustomed to how most people see Satori, you felt your hand cusp into a fist as you gritted your teeth, seething in annoyance and preparing to fight back or even to get off the taxi.

“Yet despite the rumors, he’s a kind young man. Eccentric one, I admit, but he knows the chocolate fit for the customer. Hell, he even helped me pick for my wife!” The driver continues, chuckling at the memory.

You feel all the anger in you disappear, proud of your boyfriend, as it was somewhat kind of rare for you to hear good compliments about him, “That’s just probably how other people see him. I would say, he’s a tad too eccentric for most people. He’s kind and soft-hearted and cute if you get to know him beyond the surface.”, you reply languidly with proud eyes.

You saw his eyes glance at you, before looking back at the road.

Unknowingly, your smile didn’t falter at the memory of Satori. “In fact, the owner is my boyfriend! And I’m actually here to visit — or rather, surprise him today!”

The driver chuckled softly, “Figures. You were talking about the owner like he’s your lover, and,” He paused, his eyes gazed towards the photograph of a woman that you took notice of earlier. “I can say the same.” His voice became tender as he continued driving.

You have finally arrived at your boyfriend’s little happy place, much to your joy and excitement. You immediately paid the driver and thanked him for the ride (and for the conversation). As soon as you get out of the cab, the driver calls you out, rummages something from a compartment in his cab, and surprises you with a lush red rose, thankfully free of its prickly thorns.

"You somehow remind me of me and my wife when we were younger, and it's Valentines' Season and better yet, you're in the City of Love! So please, take this as a Valentines' souvenir, mademoiselle".

"Oh you didn't have to, monsieur!"

“Good luck with that boyfriend of yours, mademoiselle! Yer both lucky to have each other.”, he says, somehow inspired by how you defended Satori as he mutters an ‘ah, young love’ to himself afterwards as he waves before driving to his next destination. Despite the jet lag creeping in your system, you grasp the remaining energy you have to at least surprise your boyfriend with your presence in the spirit of Valentines' Day in the City of Love.

I can't believe I'm in Paris, and I'm seeing Satori's shop for the first time!, you thought as you giddily reached for the eccentric gold-gilded handle of the door, slowly opening the door to the shop. The instant scent of the cocoa hit right through your senses as your eyes ran across the various chocolates on display. Walking further, you were graced with the view of your beloved with his back on you, occupied with washing his tools to finish the day as he sways his hips to the rhythm of the song he’s humming so softly.

He stops humming as soon as he hears the chime of the door bell, "Je suis désolée, on est fermé. (I’m sorry, we’re closed)", you hear Satori with bits of his Japanese accent as he continued humming afterwards, clueless of who had entered his shop.

"Well, I was thinking of grabbing a Valentines' special with my boyfriend.", you replied teasingly, emphasizing the word boyfriend, which left the budding chocolatier a bit frozen in shock as he turned to your direction with wide eyes before shifting to a smirk as he leans on the countertop, narrowing his eyes towards you as an “Oh, what do we have here?” leaves his mouth.

“My Sugar!”, he nearly screamed, seeing you as he dropped everything he’s doing and rushed to hug you tightly, not caring about his wet hands.

You lovingly welcome his arms as you hug him back tightly, soaking in his presence after being separated for so long.

“I missed you so much, Satori!”, you pout as you felt him tightening his embrace, as you savored his warmth after a long flight, his breath tickling the nape of your neck. You gasp a little bit as he gently caresses your hair, maximizing his hug with you to finally see, touch, and feel you in person.

You felt Satori loosen his arms, as you immediately replaced with the warmth of the Parisian cold, much to your disappointment. Without you knowing, Satori sees even the slightest of your body trembling from the current weather and rushes back in the kitchen to grab his Shiratorizawa jacket, much to your surprise. He then returns to you, gracefully sliding the jacket over your shoulders.

You pout at him with a prominent blush on your plump cheeks, “Thank you, Satori”, to which he replies with another hug much tighter compared to the one a few minutes ago.

“I love, love, LOVE you so much, my chocolate ice cream!”, he exclaimes as you were suddenly smothered with a couple of pecks — light kisses on your head. You snuggled closer to his chest, eagerly smelling his sweet scent of chocolate that suddenly reminded you of your handmade chocolate that you’ve left unattended for hours. You quickly scramble away from the contact, much to your endearing boyfriend’s curiosity, to see if the chocolate has withstood not only the long flight, but also Satori’s warm, tight hugs. Luckily, the red cardboard box was sturdy enough and only had a couple dents — making you sigh in relief. As soon as you pull out the box, you see your boyfriend narrowing his eyes to the direction of the box with peaked curiosity.

“Ah, what do we have here?” Satori teases, pulling off a smirk, eyes still on the box as he receives it. He gave it a little shake, that made you giggle as he playfully tried to guess what was inside. Although you could feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment with each second passing. You look away in embarrassment as you watch him. He looks at you with piqued interest, wondering what has gotten you a bit tad embarrassed, if the pink in your cheeks were even a telltale sign.

You anxiously mumbled, “W-Well, I mean, my boyfriend probably makes the best chocolate in the world, so it k-kinda sucks that the only Valentines’ gift I can give you is a box of chocolates that I have made—”, you got cut off as you see and hear your boyfriend already popping one of the chocolates in his mouth, much to your chagrin. To your surprise, he kept popping more and more of the chocolates, savoring each delight.

“Waif, lemme geth sum hot milk.” he says, with his mouth full of your handmade chocolates as he scrambles back to the kitchen, heating up some milk. As you wait for him, you notice a gramophone on the countertop with a vinyl record already in place, with Edith Piaf written on on the center portion in black marker, which you found cute as you imagined Satori listening to Edith Piaf while doing his daily chocolate-making routine. You try to play the music and much to your delight, your head gently swayed to the song, and eventually your body. Immediately after the song has started, your body has already succumbed to the rhythm of the music that you didn’t notice Satori returning with two mugs of hot milk. He grins, enjoying the view of you dancing to French music as he places the mugs down on the counter. He slowly sways as he walks up to you, his hands snaking around your waist from your back as your bodies swing leisurely to the rhythm, much to your surprise yet you quickly relax as you lean back on him, holding his hands around your waist.

Never in your wildest dreams have you imagined that the Satori Tendou, your boyfriend, the oddball, would be dancing with you like this, alone in his chocolate shop under the moonlight on Valentines’ Day in the City of Love. It was too much for your heart to handle, and probably for his heart, too.

You dance for a couple more minutes until the song slowly fades. He then relishes the way he holds you, albeit the music has already finished. You both savor each other’s presence a few more, before Satori then gets the mugs of hot milk, not wanting to waste the good heat on a cold Parisian night. You gladly accept the milk with one hand, as you grasp his jacket with the other, not wanting to feel even the slightest cold breeze. Your boyfriend then leads you to a seat on the counter, sitting next to you as he prepares his mug and your box of chocolates, now with only a few pieces.

“I never thought you would actually go here in Paris”, he starts, as he pops another one of your chocolate in his mouth, followed by gulping down his warm milk.

“I never thought I would actually go here, but I’m grateful that I did, because this is the best Valentines’ Day I’ve ever had!”, you beam as you hold your mug with both hands, relishing the warmth as you drink down your milk.

Tendou then takes note of your chocolates, “You know, I was thinking of adding your chocolates to the menu, and credit you also. Probably name it Le Chocolat Y/N Au Lait Special or something!” You smiled and held a hand on your chest, feeling how warm it suddenly felt.

“Satori, I’d love to.”, you replied, to which his smile grew bright that could burst your heart to how cute he is.

Your beloved continues to chew and drink, looking around when he notices the fresh red rose from earlier sitting atop of your luggage. You follow his line of sight, immediately seeing the lone rose. You finish drinking your milk before you tell him enthusiastically, “Ah! That was given by the taxi driver that drove me earlier. Said that we somehow reminded him of him and his wife on Valentine's Day in the City of Love in this same shop, so he gave me one.”, imitating the way your driver said City of Love. Much to your shock, Satori sardonically laughs, saying it was a tad bit too French, at least for his taste.

While finishing the last remnants of your warm milk, he then goes to the nearby gramophone and plays another Edith Piaf classic. You glance at him with curiosity as he looks at you smugly, stretching out his hand as he invites you to another  dance.

“So, where were we?”

back to valentines masterlist

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Hi do you think u can do a Roman Godfrey imagine where they are dating and y/n is a good innocent girl but freaky with Roman and her parents want to Roman over for dinner Roman wants to piss off her dad and does subtle things to annoy him like touching y/n at the end of the night when they are saying goodbye at his car they have a heated make out sesh and Roman knows her dad is looking through the window so spices it up a bit

Of course! I will always remember you, Anon, as the first person to make a request ❤ I really hope you enjoy! Being the first request I’ve had, it might flop lol. But I hope this is at least close to what you had in mind!

Warning: Slightly NSFW

~~~~~~~~~~

Having such a sweet personality made everyone think you were innocent and you were, for the most part. Roman was one of many people who thought this, comparing you to Shelley or Letha levels of innocence.

But when Roman decided he wanted to play games with you, he was shocked to find out you could play games just as well as he could.

After getting to know you some, he quickly realized that the sweet innocent side to you actually wasn’t a front like some people faked. You were genuinely caring, and probably the sweetest person he’d ever met besides Shelley.

But something about Roman could make even the most angelic human on earth act like a demon behind closed doors once in a while.

Roman definitely brought out your wild side, not in a bad way either. He surely got you to come out of your shell.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been sweet and you knew that’s how you wanted to live. But you’d admit, it was fun letting loose with one of your favorite people. Not having to worry so much about consequences and such.

Yours parents were bewildered and astonished that their sweet little girl could date someone so...not like you. They didn’t know how to react when you told them, especially your mother.

Your father however, organized his feelings pretty quickly. The first thing he wanted to do was find Roman, kill him, and feed him to the family dog.

But instead, he asked you to invite Roman over for dinner.

Now if it was literally anyone else, even the Rumancek boy, you wouldn’t feel as panicked to invite them over. But knowing Roman, you knew it had no chance of ending well.

But you couldn’t exactly say no to your loving parents. You knew they just wanted to protect you, even if it was unbearably annoying.

You internally groaned when you saw Roman smirked evilly when you asked him to have dinner with the ‘rents.

You told him and made it very clear that your father already did not like him, but he only responded with, “I’m not gonna let an old man scare me away from being with you.” Then giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before walking off to find his sister.

Off to a fabulous start...

Roman already knew how he was going to act at your place as soon as you told him to behave. He wasn’t one to take orders, even from you. He wasn’t going to be disrespectful per say, but definitely wasn’t going to be intimidated by some old guy. Even if he was your father.

Getting ready for the dinner was nerve wracking already. Your palms were already starting to sweat slightly, heartbeat irregular, some of your nervous ticks sticking out like a sore thumb.

Your mother noticed this of course, you smoothing down your blouse to the point of your hands turning a soft pink was a clue indeed.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ve already convinced your dad to kill him quick and painlessly if he chooses to go that route.” She joked, showing a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Ha ha, not funny.” You huffed.

You almost screamed in terror when the doorbell rang twice. Roman had already texted you that he was on his way, but you were so nervous that anything could’ve spooked you at this point.

“I’ll get it!” You quickly voiced, running to the front door.

You opened the door, revealing the man you’re so fond of. His hair was slicked back and his mouth upturned in his usual smirk that made your knees go weak.

“Hello, my dearest.” He smirked, leaning over to give you a kiss but you quickly dodged it, making him place his lips on your cheek instead. “It’s gonna be that type of dinner then.” He hummed disappointedly.

You chuckled softly. “Not when my parents are just five feet away from us.”

Roman rolled his green eyes. “Fine.”

You brought Roman into the kitchen where your mother was currently doing some finishing touches on the main course. “Mom, this is Roman.” You introduced.

You could tell your mother was wary at first, eyeing him up and down subtly. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.” He smiled warmly, reaching out his hand.

Roman’s charm quickly put your mother’s worries at ease, her giving a similar warm smile and taking his hand for a tender handshake.

“The Godfrey kid here?” You heard your father’s unnecessarily booming voice call out, promptly entering the door frame of the kitchen.

You turned around to see your father’s stoic face and almost laughed. Your father was a pretty joyful man, so seeing him play up the role of protective papa bear was a sight to see.

“Dad, this is Roman.” You said, a more obvious nervousness to your voice than before.

Roman did the same thing before. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Y/L/N.” Reaching his hand out with a smile.

“You can call me Sir, little Godfrey.”

“Dad...” You whined.

Roman only smiled, laughing it off. “Yes, sir.” He said, a slight annoyance in his voice. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and you could feel the anger by how hard he was gripping you.

You could see your father fixate his glare on his hand that was around you, and you immediately got the hint, gently removing Roman’s arm. “Dinner’s ready! Right, mom?” You voiced suddenly, trying desperately to break some of the tension.

“Uh, yeah! Pretty much!” Your mother grinned.

“Yay! Let’s go!” You exclaimed, pretty much dragging your parents and Roman to the dining room table.

Despite your nerves being through the roof, the smell of delicious food eased it just a tad.

Until Roman started to act up. Wearing a skirt was definitely a bad idea. The whole night was a bad idea, but oh well, couldn’t change it now.

While a friendly conversation between Roman and your mother started, he placed a hand on your exposed knee.

It was innocent as first. He always had been a touchy feely type and usually it didn’t advance any further than that unless he wanted sex, so you didn’t really think anything of it. 

Then you felt his hand slowly trail up your thigh, moving the delicate fabric out of the way.

You looked at Roman with a subtle glare. You balled up your fist in anger when he only gave you a playful wink.

You stopped his hand from moving any further, but he really only saw it as a challenge.

While you were struggling not to make a noise or squirm in your seat, Roman was carrying on the conversation effortlessly.

Roman finally won, reaching the spot that was aching for his touch against your better judgement.

You gasped softly, quickly covering it up with a cough. “Chicken’s a bit dry, ma.” You chuckled nervously, trying to squeeze your legs together.

Roman gave you a questioning look, feigning innocence. “I think it’s perfect, Mrs. Y/L/N. Probably the best home cooked meal I’ve had in, well, ever.” He chuckled.

Roman suddenly hit that perfect spot, causing you to spasm and slam your fist on the table. “Suck up.” You coughed out. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Your mother asked with concern.

“Yeah, you good babe?” Roman asked, putting the emphasis on babe and faking concern.

Your father was less than pleased, glaring at Roman with such intensity that could scare most people away, but Roman just smirked,

“I’m alright!” You almost shouted. “Just suddenly not feeling well is all! Think I just had some bad cafeteria food.” You forced a laugh.

“That’s why I’ve said to always take your own lunch!” Your mother said, unknowingly saving you from being center attention.

The rest of the dinner went, well...it went.

Being teased by Roman most of the time, you were almost overjoyed when the night was finally coming to an end.

“Again, the food was fantastic.” Roman told your mother, kissing her hand, her smiling in reply.

Roman turned and kissed you on the cheek, just close enough to graze your lips. Then he turned back to your father, who’s glare never left Roman. “It was nice to meet you...sir.”

You bit your lip, waiting to see if this was the moment your father was going to finally snap. “Was nice to meet you too...Mr. Godfrey.” He said, basically gritting his teeth and holding his glare.

“Okay...well...time to go!” You said, almost pushing Roman out the door.

As soon as the door closed, Roman let out a hearty laugh. “Your old man is really something!” He put his hand over his chest while continuing to laugh, leaning against his red convertible to keep himself from doubling over.

You only glared at him. “Roman.”

“What?” Roman asked, wearing a cheeky grin. “Oh! Are you jealous that I kissed your mom’s hand? Milfs aren’t my type, darling.” He chuckled, but stopped once he realized you didn’t find what he was saying funny. “You have your father’s glare.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “I can’t believe you. I specifically told you to behave!” You fussed.

“Oh, really? Your soaked panties told me otherwise.”

You blushed, biting your lip in frustration, then letting out a tiny laugh. “I hate you...” You smiled lovingly.

Roman straightened himself out and beckoned you over with his pointer finger. And like a magnet, you gravitated towards him and into his arms.

You loved Roman’s hugs.

While still enveloped in his arms, from the corner of his eye, Roman saw someone watching the two of you at the window. He smirked when he saw that it was your father.

Being the little shit that he is, Roman pulled away from the wholesome hug and brought his lips down to yours, devouring you in a not so wholesome kiss.

You were shocked at first, but soon relaxed into it, now not having to worry about your parents seeing.

But your father was, and Roman knew that, causing him to deepen the kiss just to spite him.

Feeling Roman’s tongue massage against yours felt heavenly, making you let out an involuntary moan.

Roman opened his eyes to peek to see if your father was still at the window, and to his amusement, he was.

Roman knew he was testing his luck, but that was part of the fun. He brought his hand up to your throat and squeezed gently, while the other hand was brought down harshly on your ass with a loud smack.

You squealed happily, loving the feeling of his hands on you. But you knew it was time for him to leave, so you pulled away.

You smiled when you saw how swollen his lips were. “Alright, Casanova. Time for you to go.” You voiced, bringing your mouth just below his ear. “I’ll come by your place later.” You whispered seductively and pulled away.

“As much as I’d love that, I have a feeling sneaking out won’t be so easy for you tonight.” He said, trying to hide a smile.

You furrowed your brows and smiled confusingly. “What makes you say that?”

“Tell your dad that it’s rude to stare.” Roman said, quickly getting into his car and driving away.

It’s rude to stare? What the hell does that mean?

Turning around to head back inside your house is when you finally realized what Roman meant. You saw your father glaring at you from the window, arms crossed and his face noticeably a shade of red.

Fuck...

~~~~~~~~~~

[hwy-unicorn]

show me the places where the other’s gave you scars

Summary: He holds you, tighter than you’ve ever been held before, but it feels safe. You are not frightened by it. And he whispers your name into the night, as he presses you into the mattress, his firm hands caressing your body in ways that make you feel on fire. It’s a burn that you welcome; you are willing to be engulfed by the flames.

More loving Normero smut ;) also my first time writing in second person so lmk what you think!!

It was no secret to Alex that you had scars. He had spent hours exploring every inch of your body, committing each and every part of you to his memory. He considered you a treasure, and he was one of the few people that you allowed to see you in such meaningful ways. Not that you were a stranger to sex, you’ve had your fair share of experiences with men before, but it was never like this. No man before him had wanted to take their time with you, to see and love every part of you. So while others have seen you, no one has truly seen you in the way he has. And no one ever questioned your scars, sometimes you wonder if they had even noticed them at all as they were too caught up in having a woman to lay claim to.

Alex, however, noticed everything. Every scar, scratch, bump and bruise of yours was tucked away in his brain, and he was always careful to treat such an area with a tenderness that it may have not had before. Your scars didn’t hurt anymore, the pain washed away with the years, but it didn’t seem to matter to him because he was always attentive to those areas. He would always provide each spot with the most featherlight touches and faintest of kisses. You wondered if he was even aware of what he was doing.

He never brought it up though, never asked you questions about where they had come from, and for that, you were grateful. It was not that you didn’t trust him, you actually trusted Alex with every part of you, but you were still cautious about what you revealed. You couldn’t help the fear that lurked beneath the surface, afraid to see Alex walk out the door and never return, the burden of your monsters too dark for him to handle.

But you noticed him, his curious eyes and wandering fingertips, always tracing the edges of your marred skin, silently wondering where they had come from. And at night, when he’d carry you to bed after dinner, intent on making love to you for the rest of the night, that one particular scar would always catch his eye. It was the one on your inner thigh, the patch of skin that provided you with a traumatic flash of memory every time your fingers grazed it. You remember the panic you had felt on your first night with him, when he had touched it and gazed up at you sadly, almost like he knew that it wasn’t from an innocent accident. And then you had pulled him away from it, had distracted him with a searing kiss and a well practiced moan, and he didn’t question it. You let him see it now. You wonder what he might say if you told him where you had gotten it.

You want to tell him everything, you don’t want to feel like there is a barrier between you both, but you don’t know how or even when to say it.

Tonight, you eat dinner alone. Alex is working late; he has been working late quite a bit these past few nights, and he sounded so apologetic on the phone that you couldn’t be the least bit upset with him. You know his job isn’t easy, but you have been getting lonely. Though, these lonesome evenings have given you some time to think about your whirlwind of a relationship with the man you had once hated and was sure hated you in return- even though he said he never did. You had only been married a few months now, truly together for even less than that; it felt like you didn’t really know each other at all, but at the same time he knew more about you than anyone before him. It was you who didn’t know much about him, and you longed to know more.

You finish eating your dinner by the time you hear the front door creak open, and you pause your work on the dishes to heat the leftovers. He comes up behind you, sweeping your hair off to the side to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder and you smile, leaning into him. He feels strong and safe and you want to stay here forever, and luckily for you he has no intentions of letting you go yet

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he sighs into your neck, peppering more soft kisses there, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your hips. “I won’t be working late much longer, I promise.”

The microwave beeps but neither of you move, his hands still on your waist and face still buried in the crook of your neck, but it feels different now. “Are you mad at me?” he asks and you shake your head, pulling one hand from your hip to kiss his palm.

“I’m not mad,” you reassure, and he smiles, gently turning you to kiss you.

“I’m not hungry,” he whispers against your lips, and you frown, pulling away to give him a soft glare. “I ate already,” he admits, his eyes apologetic and you gasp mockingly, placing a hand on your chest, as if you are truly offended.

He rolls his eyes, he knows your tricks by now and you can’t help but giggle as he lifts you onto the counter. His lips are on you again, devouring you hungrily and you shiver against him as his hands move up and down your body, as if he needs to touch every part of you. He is always so careful with you, gentle, yet rough all at once and the contrast is intoxicating. Alex is strong and dominant, but it is not something that you fear, no, you lose yourself in it. He leads, and you follow, but it’s pleasant because you know you are taken care of and that he would never do anything to cause you harm.

“Not here,” you murmur against his lips. You are both desperate, buzzing with need, but you don’t want a quickie on the kitchen counter.

He lifts you with ease, carrying you up the stairs, though you would’ve accepted the couch as a reasonable second option. Laughter fills the room as he stumbles, falling onto the bed with you in his arms, and you push yourself up, straddling his hips, giggling wildly as you push him onto his back. Sometimes, he is happy to let you lead; he would gladly follow you into fire.

Your hands make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, gasping against his lips as he bucks his hips up into you. You can feel him through his jeans and you can’t help the breathy moan that escapes you at the sensation. You fumble a bit with the buttons, becoming too desperate to even think straight and Alex takes the opportunity to gently flip you onto your back, taking his place on top of you.

Sometimes you find it strange how much you enjoy being underneath him, as with men before it had felt claustrophobic. But he doesn’t press you down hard, does not make you feel trapped or suffocated beneath him, instead, protected, and while you often are on top of him for sex, this position doesn’t bring you any discomfort.

He kisses you, softer this time, as he works at the buttons of your blouse. His movements are not frantic anymore, you can feel the energy slow, though arousal still courses through you like fire in your veins. Alex slides your blouse off your shoulders, and you sit up to help him undo your bra. The light is still on, you can see his face as he watches you, so full of love and adoration while you undress for him.

His hands slide up your tummy, and cup your breast, just softly squeezing and you sigh, laying back onto the pillows. He does not want it to be quick this time, you can already tell by the way he is looking at you. He wants to watch you come undone, and while you love your passionate, heated encounters, you truly don’t mind this. It feels strangely empowering to have him see you in such a vulnerable way.

Alex’s lips close around your nipple, his hand cupping your other breast, as he nips at you playfully, soothing the sting with his tongue. You can feel yourself becoming needy, and he can feel it too, but he holds down your hips as you push them into him and you can’t help but groan. He shushes you, too intent on taking his time with you tonight, and you know you will not get what you want so soon.

He will make it worthwhile though.

His mouth trails down your body, his hands pulling your panties off as he kisses your tummy, moving down towards your thighs and spreading your legs.

Your eyes flutter close as his lips trace a gentle path up your legs, and he smiles at your frustrated groan when he skips over the place you need him most. He moves his mouth down your other thigh, placing a soft kiss against your scar, like he always does, and your eyes flutter open. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see him watching you lovingly while his lips trail along the edge of the blemished skin. There is no judgement in his eyes as he looks back up at you, his face full of adoration and you feel your tummy flutter, suddenly wanting to reveal every secret you have to him. He already knows so much; he knows what Caleb had done to you all those years ago, that Dylan is his son, he knows about Norman and how he killed Sam to protect you. What is one more secret?

“It’s from an iron,” you breathe, and he pauses his movements to look up at you. You open your eyes again, looking down at him as he stares up at you questioningly. “The scar. It’s from an iron.”

He looks back at the mark that he was kissing only moments ago, his fingers touching it softly as if he was worried he would hurt it. “Oh.”

You swallow, fingers flexing nervously against your tummy as he waits for you to say more, unsure if that is as far as you will go.

“It happened when I was little,” you clear your throat, staring down at the mark with disdain.

“My brother…” you feel his grip tighten just a little, before he relaxes. “He wanted… erm… I was ironing and he was-he just-” you can’t bring yourself to say the words again, but he understands, you can see it in his eyes, so you just continue.

“My dad came home and I was scared he would see, he-he was scary, he would’ve hurt Caleb I just know it. So I jumped up really fast and I knocked the iron over and it fell on my leg. And he just- he just put his hand over my mouth because I was crying so much and-” you can feel your resolve cracking, tears filling your eyes and you’re upset because you’ve ruined the mood- you can just feel it- and you feel a mix of guilt and disgust with yourself

But Alex says nothing to make you feel that way as he moves from his spot between your legs, shushing you gently while you begin to cry. You regret saying anything at all. Your hands cover your face, but you can feel him hovering above you, his voice soft as he promises you that everything will be okay.

He gently pulls your hands away from where they are covering your eyes, and you look up at him tearfully, letting your eyes flutter close as he wipes the tears away. He leans closer, so his chest is against yours, but is keeping most of his weight on his arms so you don’t feel crushed, and you feel more tears coming to your eyes at the gentleness of it all.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, sighing in relief as your face rests in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and he hums questioningly. “I’ve ruined the mood. I know you don’t want me right now.”

“Norma,” he murmurs in a sort of scolding tone, but you shake your head.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“Stop,” he sighs. “You haven’t ruined the mood.”

“Yes I h-” you gasp as his fingers press against your clit, rubbing soft circles. “Oh.”

Your head falls back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close as he kisses your lips sweetly. “You haven’t ruined anything. Do you want me to keep going?”

You nod frantically, and although the weight of your revelation still hangs in the air, your arousal is too heavy to ignore. His fingers slide into you and he moves down your body, probably wanting to finish what he had begun before you had told him everything, but you stop him. You cannot wait any longer.

“No, I-” you shudder against his fingers, feeling yourself getting close. “I want you inside me.”

He groans at your words, and you quickly reach down to undo the button on his jeans, frantically pushing them off of his legs, along with his boxers, in one quick motion. His movements are slow and gentle as he pushes inside you, and although you pull him closer and try to make him go faster, he holds off, as if he’s afraid to be too rough and hurt you. And he continues those slow movements as he thrusts in and out of you, his fingers dancing ever so gently, almost teasingly against your clit and it's agonizing.

“Alex,” you whimper, pulling him closer against you. “Harder please, I need you.”

He shakes above you, but gives in to your demand. You can feel yourself beginning to come undone as he thrusts into you harder and faster, and you are gasping, gripping at him, at the sheets, unsure what to hold onto to keep yourself grounded.

He holds you, tighter than you’ve ever been held before, but it feels safe. You are not frightened by it. And he whispers your name into the night, as he presses you into the mattress, his firm hands caressing your body in ways that make you feel on fire. It’s a burn that you welcome; you are willing to be engulfed by the flames.

“Norma, Norma, Norma.”

Repeated like a mantra as he gasps and moans, and shakes above you, willing himself to hold back until you’ve crashed over the edge. It’s entirely different from anything you’ve ever experienced before, no man has ever wanted you like this. No man has ever touched you like this. No man has ever seen you like this.

It’s freeing, but scary all the same, because you’ve never been this vulnerable or exposed. No one had ever known your darkest secrets or deepest flaws, because you were sure that no one could handle it. The monsters under your bed are much too frightening for anyone to fight, but he fights them for you. He goes into the thicket of the woods that are your fears, like a knight in shining armor, armed with nothing but his love for you and he fights all those monsters that bring you harm. He wants to destroy them, and maybe someday he will, but for now they remain. It doesn’t matter though, it’s enough for you to know that you have someone fighting for you. You are not alone anymore.

[into-crazy]

My own thoughts on Arthur Fleck/Joker with a female s/o with long hair

I had already done one of these with J, and I figured, why not do one with Artie! So as stated before, my hair is very long. These are just a few possibilities of how that would tie into being in a relationship with Arthur/Joker. I'm just trying to get back into my writing groove. Anyways, I hope you enjoy lovelies!💖💖

Things that happen/occur regularly..

To be clear, there is not one part of you that Arthur isn't infatuated with. He adores every single part of you. Anything you feel self-conscious about, he'll be sure to give extra attention to.

Got stretch marks? He will trail his fingertips- and sometimes his tongue during intimate moments- along those gorgeous lines. Any marks, moles, or freckles you despise? He'll tenderly kiss those beautiful marks that decorate your body. Have body rolls or feel like you're lacking in certain areas? He will lovingly caress, squeeze, and feel those wonderful parts of you. For what you see as flaws, Arthur sees as fine works of beauty.

Along with the many things he loves about you, he's definitely enamored with your hair. Which is rather quite long in length.

No matter what it is you are doing would he often find himself staring at your strands. Especially when you are combing and styling them. Any way you choose to wear your hair, he doesn't have a specific preference as he appreciates each look equally and individually.

He finds it fascinating how expressive your hair is when you wear it down, styled or not. It's as if it has a life of its own to accurately accommodate your moods.

How he can't help but slowly run his fingers through those wonderful locks. It took him a while to take it upon himself- with your assurance- to simply just do it without asking. So unsure, shy, and gentlemanly was he to always ask if it was okay. Even when you'd surely and patiently told him it was more than.

He's got long locks of his own. And it makes him feel good and loved when you lightly play with his strands. Twirling one of his chestnut curls around your finger or smoothing your hands through his hair and telling him how handsome he is. He had always longed to have someone he cares deeply for to give him that form of intimacy and for him to graciously return. Now, he has that and more with you in his life.

Arthur showers you with lots of compliments and heartfelt comments.

"Your hair's beautiful, my love." // "It's so long and soft." // "I really like that hairstyle, you look amazing. My lovely angel, you always do."

You find yourself blushing and smiling at his words. "Really? Thank you baby! I actually tried today, I'm glad you think so."

Your braids are very pretty to him. Watching you effortlessly maneuver your fingers to twist and weave the tresses into a thick bind, it never fails to captivate his eyes. He'll be extra careful when he runs his hand down the length to simply feel the smooth grooves. Even the simplest of braids he finds elegant on you.

Sometimes he'll even ask if he can braid it for you. Which you'd happily oblige. The first time he brought it up, he was nervous. It even shocked him when you asked if you could also do his. You braid little strands here and there on him, not all of his hair. Now, it's a relaxing activity you both like to do in the comfort of your home every once in a while.

There are times where your mane can be an absolute bother. You tend to get headaches when you put it up for long periods of time because it's just so heavy. Arthur catches on to that, and expresses his concern. He never wants you to be in any discomfort.

"Please love, let your hair down. I know it's bothering you." He'd even remove the hair tie from you himself. Able to ease his worried nerves when he finally hears that deep sigh escape your lips. With your eyes closed in contempt as you let him take care of you. "I don't know how you do it, y/n."

He admires your will of willing to deal with the hassles and fusses as a price for wanting to keep the length.

You both enjoy shampooing each other's hair in the shower. You can count on some really amazing scalp massages, because Arthur gives the best ones! And he loves when your nails gently scratch along his own scalp. At times it'll become a silent competition of trying to give the other the best massage.

Going into the transition of Joker, these things very much remain the same.

Bedhead moments..

Alright, so maybe Arthur's lied just a teeny, tiny bit before. His personal favorite way to see your hair is when it's like this, in its most natural state. You tend to sleep with your hair completely down, leaving your locks to sprawl freely along the pillows.

He couldn't get enough of how gorgeous you are in your slumber. Completely carefree in your upmost vulnerable and graceful state. When he was up before you or couldn't find sleep of his own would he lay there and admire you.

When you're cuddling, he'll bury his nose into the crook of your neck and inhale the scent of your conditioner. Your scent is completely intoxicating to him, it's the smell of home. Some nights where he found it difficult to rest, would he try to be lulled asleep breathing in your soothing essence.

Quite frequently will your strands accidentally get snagged under his arm or trapped under his weight.

"Ow! My hair-" You'd wince, clutching the ones that are trapped.

It'll take him a second to register what happened. When he does, the sweet man immediately lifts himself to release them and apologize. "Oh shit- I-I'm sorry! I didn't know your hair was right there."

Only for you to laugh softly and assure him it was okay. "It's alright baby. It was an accident, I know you didn't mean to."

Little NSFW..

Arthur's a very passionate man, especially when it comes to making love. So passionate and intimate is he, that even if you're having rougher sex or a quickie does he always make you feel loved.

Powerful is your love for one another, that making the other feel special comes naturally and right.

No matter what kind sexual activity you are doing would his hands be touching you in any wonderful way. Those warm and worn hands are constantly roaming over every inch of your body which he can access.

During your shared moments of passion would his fingers tangle into your hair to bring you closer to him. He does it with such tenderness. Badly does he need to have you as close as possible. To transfer the heat of your bodies, the rapid beating of your hearts through your chests, and the harmonic vibrations of your sweet moans.

Many of these things never change even after he makes the transition into Joker. After all, he still is your Arthur underneath the clown persona.

Though there are changes. Some of which are pretty drastic as he no longer holds back on anything. Which means he isn't afraid to voice what he wants, or take it rougher with you when you're both in the mood.

He will definitely tug your hair around a little firmer and more confidently when he's taking you. And he definitely loves it when you reciprocate.

Oh, and his greasepaint tends to get everywhere. So you can expect to have traces of his signature colors along your strands in various spots.

[sugar-petals]

Can u introduce yuzuru to us the caro way?👀

so you want to know about the one and only. ♡😌

yuzuru hanyū (25) of sendai, japan: the most beautiful ice prince with a heart of gold.

….an artist clearly not of this world, he’s been sent to us from another realm. 19 world records, two olympics won, dubbed the greatest figure skater of all time. and the most precious bean on top of that.

but let’s start from the beginning, shall we ♥︎

so, want to spot yuzu on the ice? use this checklist. slender silhouette, an even slimmer waist, feather-like outfits (he sketches those himself; the fandom lovingly calls him swanyu), soft blushy face. he has great androgyny.

outside of performances, you see him either with a deer’s gaze or the brightest, biggest eye smile. also, he’s usually found sitting with his wife: 

which is the ice 😄 these two are together forever. you can discern yuzu from a mile away by how he treats his working ground. 

there is a purity to him. you’d not guess that this is one of the most ardent athletes if you didn’t see what’s around his neck after competitions. the guy’s cuteness is as compelling as his skating technique.

look for it: yuzu’s face is super suave and rosy up close, even after his most energetic performances. some men are handsome, others pretty, he is both. 

even acoustically, he’s hard to miss. applause is all around, and he’s highly expressive. if you see a crying young man getting the high score, that’s yuzuru hanyu. you’ve not seen more beautiful happy tears.

and score reactions, anyway:

so, aye loves, the rumors are true. a cutie-pie off the ice, animated, a real unabashed meme — yuzu is easy-going, talkative. cheery, cheeky, one of a kind. his facial expressions are a league of their own.

if you thought this is the sort of guy who watches cat videos, you are correct 😄

yuz-uwu hanyu, everybody:

his undoubtedly feline behaviour is often unexpected, it stands out with its adorableness, too. a sweetheart par excellence. 

and, how else could it be: vice versa, the big beast on the rink. he’s cutesy, dorky, very well-spoken in daily life, but when it comes to skating, his seriousness escalates. you blink once and suddenly hanyu is a bedazzling, strutting lion :’D his performances stun with confident elegance.

he becomes full of ardor, drama, and focus. you’d never suspect so much fire burns in him. a showman and ambition icon, hands down. 

his skating is dynamic, perfected, and emotional. if you want to see art and the extra mile, tune in when hanyu competes.

the downside is; more light, more shadow. it leaves him crawling on the ice afterwards. yuzu performs so hard, it’s worrying.

he delivers it all. you won’t believe it:

this guy is an asthmatic.

the symptoms aren’t as bad as they used to be, but there are still regular attacks. he said that he’ll never take it as an excuse and often recalls how he started skating because of it. he’s a badass, extremely inspiring. yuzuru defies all limits, including gravity. his jumps have legendary status. 

off the rink, you guessed it: he turns into a wholly different person. 

it all dissolves completely when he’s dorking around again. 

don’t let it deceive you, he’s the no other option than first place type. he could not be any more decorated with titles, he achieved the grand slam in all competitions as of 2020. and still, king of sportsmanship hanyu is respectful and smiley towards all colleagues and never lets anyone feel left out. especially when it comes to his juniors (e.g. yuma kagiyama, 16, below) which says a lot about him.

he bows in every direction before an audience, too. lower than a 90° angle, even. this is more polite than any existing formality in japan.

talk about audience: i introduced fellow japanese skater shoma uno last week, who’s more uncomfortable with social contact and aggression. yuzu, extrovert he is: the exact opposite. he withers away with no people and competition. he’s befriended rivals, had crises over not having someone who could challenge him. when a competitor retires, he’s the one crying in their arms (e.g. with team mate and bff javier fernandez from spain below).

beside his competitive spirit and princely wow factor, hanyu is popular for his winnie pooh tissue box that he caresses, squeezes, and carries everywhere. he loves good luck charms & rituals, pooh is the most important one.

fans throw pooh plushies on the ice after his performances because of it. since it’s gotten so intense, yuzu recently started cleaning them up himself on top of the flower girls for the upcoming skater who could get delayed otherwise. (more about what happens with the piles of plushies later.)

so, the burning question is. 

what made yuzuru hanyu emerge so outstanding an entertainer? how does someone causing so much uproar become like that? it’s not just what kind of appearance he was given, although he really looks his part to a T. you don’t have to be an insider to see it right away.

like literally to a fault. and you can tell the way his blades sound on the ice is different. it’s soft even if he does the most hardcore quadruple jumps. i think it’s because his drive to do this is a higher one, hanyu has an altered relationship with the ice. where his devotion comes from has a more severe reason so, massive trigger warning. 

this is no exaggeration: yuzuru is considered a hero to the japanese. a survivor of the earthquake 2011, he narrowly escaped the collapsing rink in his hometown on that very day. he’s often talked about how the ice shattered underneath his feet and it was the moment that defined his life forever. he could have been dead by the age of 16. his motivation has been set ever since. this man is compelled by something bigger, that’s why you hear it and you feel it. he wants to skate not just for himself but others and seize every day. 

much of his copious charity work — that’s where all the pooh plushies go — went to mend the consequences of the tsunami ever since, he’s looked upon as a great hope in japan. the minister gave him the people’s honor award in 2018. 

now you know why yuzuru has such a fanbase and treats the ice as sacred, you see it in every gesture. his manners are without a single flaw, he helps staff repair the ice after performances. 

you might think it’s odd, but he honors the ground. he’s invested in the integrity of it. that’s why he’s the best skater. it’s gratitude and the will to live fully.

he hates to fall on the ice, he hates to damage it. alongside his feathery weight, that’s why the sound he makes while gliding along is so tender. 

i think that’s also why hanyu’s signature element is the ina bauer. it doesn’t rely on brutal force, instead this element slides across the rink like a swan. yeah, oh my god.

it’s his most well-known dramatic move. the way he surrenders into it. 

hanyu’s back arch and perfect split allow him to do elements no other male skaters can. his biellmann spin, for instance. i know, it’s ridiculous.

and those are just two elements of dozens and dozens. hanyu is a kinetic wizard. i highly rec this record-breaking delivery of his olympic program. in front of his home crowd! he’s just… mind-boggling. i live for his smiles here.

exceptional skater, exceptional mentor: it’s time we look at another puzzle piece that made yuzu the way he is. the masterful brian orser is hanyu’s beloved coach. missing gold by just one mistake at the olympics 1988, brian is now committed to give others what he couldn’t have— successfully so.

orser took the ice prince to gold twice, this hasn’t happened in 66 years. brian is the nicest and most supportive pooh carrier and yuzu’s utmost rock. hanyu’s talent rests safely in these hands.

he gets strict about punctuality lmao! but other than that, his guidance is gentle. canadian he is, brian’s courteousness mixes well with yuzu’s politeness. their bond is strong. as. hell. 

brian picked up yuzu from rock bottom several times. most fateful being hanyu’s accident with a fellow skater during competition warm-ups nov 2014. they collided at a high speed, it was unspeakably nasty. yuzu got knocked out for half a minute and had grave breathing problems but still decided to skate on with what later turned out as an almost-concussion. brian was the most worried ice dad in the world that day.

yuzu cried and crouched and bled like mad and my heart has been broken ever since. i hope he never suffers like that again. promise me you don’t search up the video, it’s a harrowing watch like a stab to the chest. sadly enough, hanyu’s body has still been a notorious wreck, esp. ankle issues regularly give him a hard time 😔

it hurts like a bitch with every jump landing but he takes meds and still manages to win, god knows how. sometimes even with crutches on the podium. at his worst, he’s still the best, it’s a tragedy.

he’s been recovering, or always is, but he pushes himself through injuries. his ambition and perfectionism are boundless. the cause is more important to him than his well-being. this is not an easy guy to stan once you see how he sacrifices and self-destructs. so, it’s good someone protects him. 

mostly from himself because nobody has profoundly surpassed hanyu. he has let himself no choice than to contest himself. not even health, only age can stop yuzu. i think that brian understands this ‘curse of a genius’ effect. his mere presence can make hanyu say these rare words:

his two other coaches contribute to that. tracy wilson (left) has proven to understand his playful side the best while ghislain briand (right) helps yuzuru deal with his fears. so you got 3 people taking care of the golden boy. brian once said: “he is very sheltered” and you can see it’s true.

yuzu eased into learning english and communicates well with his coaches. like with everything, he studies hard and often forces himself to speak during interviews to practice. his skills are astounding. his speaking voice is also very soothing, very amicably low and high alike. yuzu is highly intelligent. he always says something eloquent and interesting.

now, privately, hanyu is very much like you’d expect someone so devoted to skating would be like. he doesn’t go out, has no social media, can’t eat nor sleep very well. no cameras allowed during practice. it figures he is attached to winnie pooh, think about it. in the cartoon, pooh is someone who sleeps, eats, and engages with friends plenty. 

these are the things hanyu can’t do, doesn’t have time/energy/incentive for. he is barred from balance in life but can at least admire this little carefree plushie for it. especially because pooh represents eating lots while yuzuru doesn’t have a good relationship with food (he says it doesn’t go well with jumps etc.), hanyu lives vicariously through him. 

what’s more, you have to see how he throws himself onto others and never wants to let go, yuzuru is extremely cuddly. 

to the degree that mere social customs can’t meet how much he really needs. so, what else can he resort to, he loves mascots and plushies. it’s how the tale goes in japan generally, tough work ethic, high responsibility, high pressure, so people turn to cute fluffy things.

he always fondles pooh’s head, even pretends he’s come to life so he has someone to snuggle with. i think that his isolated lifestyle doesn’t help. so, he gets his affection at least there, you can see how happy it makes him. and again: he does this all for charity.

that’s why fellow skaters are so important to hanyu. it really brings out his social spirit and comforts him best, it’s so wholesome. i’ve not seen someone react so relieved to being embraced, like he’s not been touched for months. skating this, skating that. at the end of the day, hanyu wants love.

as he once said, what motivates him is to express himself in the first place. hanyu is a romantic. it’s written all over him. it reflects in his music choices, his elegant motion, how he designs his outfits:

… and how thoughtfully he talks about marriage. he has big plans for starting a family and coaching after he retires. i won’t be the only one squeezing lucky charm pooh in my imagination so it turns out well for him. please make this heart of gold heal and see all his wishes come true ♡🐻