so many imperfections

imperfection-in-one-human  asked:

Ich finds ziemlich cool das du deutsch sprichst, sieht man hier zu selten :3 ich hab deinen blog echt gerne!

Es ist wirklich seltsam und selten hier Mal was auf deutsch zu sehen.

hold onto me ⌁ isaac lahey

request : Request? An Isaac Lahey imagine where he’s having a nightmare about his father and he accidentally hurts you but you try to tell him that you’re okay, and just fluff? Okay thanks sweetheart :)

word count : 1.9k :)

  He had gone to bed that night unprepared for the dreams that followed- or, rather, the nightmares. It wasn’t as if Isaac Lahey was a stranger to night terrors; by now, he should have been used to them. They were attached to his person more so than anything else because of the trauma he had faced throughout the entirety of his life. He had known nothing other than torment for the first fifteen years of his life, and only recently had he found the salvation and happiness he had so desired. You were the biggest part of his happiness, and he intended on making you equally as happy so that you would stick around him for many years to come. Though, he supposed that’d be much easier if he stopped waking in the middle of the night with a cry for help and a shaking in his bones. He was sure he was irritating you at this point, having you sleep over Scott’s house almost every night only to wake you at four in the morning because of his stupid dreams. 

   Tonight, however, was the worst night he had had in quite some time. It was only midnight, earlier than normal but still late, considering it was a school night. Your eyes were just beginning to slide shut, the dim, gold light of the lamp you had left on reflecting in your eyelids, when you heard the smallest of whimpers from beside you. You turned on your side so that you were facing Isaac as his entire body began to tremble. You sat up, your fingers barely grazing his bare shoulder as you murmured, “Isaac, wake up, love, it’s just a dream.” Your soft, coaxing voice was usually enough to send his eyes flying open, icy blue eyes blown wide with a mix of fear and rage until your kind words sent him into a calmed state once again. 

   He couldn’t hear you this time, no matter how much he wanted to. In his dream, there was glass cutting into his cheek, blood trickling down his face and the droplets decorating his pale hand. Bruises blooming across his skin, turning purple and red and yellow until they faded away and then reappeared with each hit he took. Again and again and again. He healed too fast, he wanted to stop the healing so he wouldn’t have to keep getting hurt- oh god, was he hurting. He was always hurting, his bones ached and his heart was heavy. He was tired of being hurt, why couldn’t the hurt just end- why couldn’t he be the one to hurt the people who harmed him? He snarled, lashing out, claws extended and teeth bared threateningly. He would no longer be harmed, he refused to be harmed by this man that was his father only biologically, not in reality. He would hurt him this time- 

   “Isaac!” Your voice snapped him out of his this time, awaking with a jolt as panic shot through him. He stared at you, breathing hard through his mouth. He almost calmed down before he noticed his hand was wrapped tightly around your forearm, tight enough that if he squeezed, your bones would probably shatter. He let out a breath, unable to speak. A lump was forming in his throat, his nose itching slightly, and he know he was about to cry as he released your arm from his clenched fist and he saw that he dug his claws into you. Puncture marks decorated your flesh, you arm was bleeding, it would most likely bruise. Neither of you said anything as his hands dropped to his side, his gaze locked on your wound, inflicted by him. He was the one that was never supposed to hurt you, you were the person he had never wanted to hurt. 

   “Isaac, i-it’s fine, stop looking at it,” you told him quietly, pulling down the sleeve of your sweater. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m, like, in perfect condition. Stop looking at me like that,” you pleaded, watching carefully as his mouth closed and his eyes began to water. He rubbed at his eyes with his hands; he shouldn’t be crying, you were the one who was hurt, not him. 

   “I’m so sorry,” he croaked, distancing his body from yours and leaning so far away that he almost toppled off the bed. “I-I hurt you, you, of all people. I-I-I’m a terrible person, I’m awful. Please don’t come near me,” he moved even further away, sliding off the bed with ease and making himself comfortable on the floor. He glanced back up at you, sweat gleaming on his forehead. His hands shook as he brushed sticky strands of hair away from his face. He said, “I’ll sleep down here. I don’t want to hurt you again, and you shouldn’t come over again after tonight. Just- just stay away.” He leaned against the bed so he did not have to look at you- at the pain he had inflicted- bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his head down on them, still shaking. 

    You slid off the bed, too. You sat down next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist before he could shy away. You felt his body stiffen, rigid and terrified. “Isaac, please look at me.” When he refused, you tentatively brought your hand to his face, touching his cheek as gently as possible. He didn’t like his face being touched often, it made him nervous and sometimes angry- his face had always been a target of his father’s. He was too handsome, too “pretty,” with his golden curls and blue eyes that melted every heart except his own. You softly rubbed your thumb along his cheekbone, and he sighed at your touch without thinking. Your finger trailed along his jawline before coming to rest at his chin, where you turned his head slightly in order for him to look you in the eyes.  “I’ll heal. It’s okay. It was an accident due to a nightmare, and I know you would never dream of hurting me when you’re awake. You’d never truly harm anyone, Isaac, so please, don’t beat yourself up over this. Get back into bed, or else I’m sleeping on the floor with you. Got it?” He nodded, his cheeks wet with tears he had silently let stream down his face.  

    As he got into bed, he opened his arms, intending for you to fall into them. “D’you think you could hold me for a bit?” He inquired sheepishly, his cheeks a little more rosy than usual. You smiled at him, plopping into bed and automatically pulling him into your arms. He took a deep breath, his body shuddering again. You ran your hands through his curls lovingly, softly, gently, as no one had before. He could have fallen asleep that way within seconds, but opened his eyes reluctantly. “Can you show me what I did to you?” 

   Hesitantly, you tugged your sleeve up your arm and presented the newly minted bruise to him. He grimaced upon seeing it, swallowing down his self deprecating words and instead focusing on something different. “Are you in pain?” 

   “Sort of,” you admitted, your eyes following him as he lightly lifted your arm, his hand around your wrist just as before, though this time his touches were feather light and cautious, as if you were going to break into a million pieces if he handled you the wrong way. 

   “Point to where, please,” he added. With your other hand, you prodded at the place where your bones felt like they were throbbing. “Okay, just… sit still, for a moment. I-I’ve never done this on people- don’t know if I’ll do it correctly… it worked on the dog though,” he babbled. You raised your eyebrows at him, but didn’t say anything. His stared at the place he had hurt you and let his hand skim down over it, taking a deep breath as he concentrated. He focused on your face, your expression locked in a slight wince because he was holding the place that was in the most pain. He didn’t dare look at his hand, where the veins were turning an inky black in his effort to heal you, take the pain away. You exhaled with elation, no longer hurting. “Did it work? Did I do it?” 

    “Yeah, yeah, you did,” you stared at him in awe. “You took my pain.” 

    “I couldn’t let you hurt like that,” he said softly. “No one should hurt like that, unless they really fucking deserve it. But you? Anyone who hurts someone like you is a shit person with no moral compass and an affinity for getting the crap kicked out of them. No one should ever hurt you, okay? I won’t let what happened tonight happen again, ever. You’re- you mean a lot to me,” he finished lamely, gaze dropping to the wrinkled bed sheets. He was going to say, “you’re everything to me,” but he wasn’t sure if it was too soon for that. He hadn’t worked up the courage to say that he loves you yet, though he showed you in numerous ways to make up for it. 

   “You shouldn’t hurt either, Isaac,” you said as he sank back under the covers and into your arms, his blonde hair tickling your cheek. 

   “I’m used to it, sweetheart, it doesn’t bother me as much anymore,” he replied, moving one of his hands so that he could place it over your own. They were locked around his middle, and he realized that he had never even had a mother to hold him, let alone someone like you. Someone wonderful; utterly intelligent, beautiful, kind, caring, loving, perfect in so many ways and completely imperfect in many more. 

    “I wish I could take your pain, though.” 

    He turned over on his side, wanting to look at you. His nose was almost touching yours, you were curled so tightly together. “I’m not in any pain, Y/N.” 

   “Not physically, not anymore, but,” you sighed, “I wish I could take the emotional pain. The nightmares, the trauma, the claustrophobia, the scars, the bruises on your heart, the trust issues, the people you’ve lost, that’s all caused you pain. I wish I could take it away from you, carry it on my own back for a little while. You don’t deserve it, any of it,” you mumbled, hugging him tightly and pressing your face into the crook of his neck. He teared up again, cursing himself for it, but still hugging you back all the same. 

    “No one- no one’s ever said that to me before,” he mumbled back, hands stroking your hair absentmindedly as he fought to get his next words out of his mouth. “Y/N, I-I love you. I love you. I love you so much.” A weight had been lifted with those words. Once he spoke them, he knew he was going to have you around for a very long time as you automatically began crying (in the happy way, of course) and held him closer than you ever had before. He’d have you to hold onto for the rest of his life, if that’s what he needed and wanted the most. You whispered the same words back and forth over and over again for the rest of the night, reveling in it, your hearts swelling more each time it was muttered against his lips or against your skin. You were his anchor, he loved you more than anything, and he held on to you closely when you both finally fell asleep that night, nightmares no longer plaguing his dreams. 

One More Night - Prologue

Pairing: Daniel Atlas x reader
Summary: They are like the sun and the moon. Chasing each other, but never quite finding each other to finally become one. Daniel and the reader are solo artists with loads of charme and character. What happens when two stubborn minds meet and are forced to work together?
Words: 800ish

Keep reading


I originally took this to depict my absolutely fucked up eye (I had my contacts in for too long) but something about it is so evocative of this… naked ugly truth. That humans are such fragile, weak creatures, with so many imperfections. 

It doesn’t make me feel good, or bad, really. It just makes me think, which is cool.

Sam Winchester-Imperfections

Title: Imperfections

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader

Word count:1088

Summary: Moments where the reader has done something that would be counted as a imperfection or embarrassing, but Sam finds it adorable. 

Being Sam Winchester’s girlfriend was not as easy as everyone would think. Not because he was a hunter, or because he had a bad past of his girlfriends staying alive… but because he was damn near perfect. 

Sam Winchester was a god. He was made in a lab you’re sure of it. He was perfect. Tall, hot, cute, sweet, strong, brave…. what was wrong with him? Nothing. 

Monsters; now them you could handle. Gore; easy. Downing pints; gimme! Being perfect and girly? Nope. 

You had so many imperfections, well at least to you, you did. You were always so nervous around Sam, not even wanting to sneeze in case it looked ugly. 


You glanced around, making sure none of the brothers were here as you carefully slipped on your glasses. You began to continue to read, now seeing the words clearly. 

‘’hey, babe, I thi-’’Sam stopped half way, you almost having a heart attack as you fumbled to get your glasses off but failed. You blushed, cheeks flaming up as you looked anywhere but him. 

‘’Are you wearing glasses?’’He chuckled, a small smile on his face as he squinted his eyes at you. 

‘’Y-yeah’’You coughed, placing your elbow on the table and hiding your face. 

‘’They suit you’’He smiled kindly, tilting your head and kissing your lips He walked back off, flicking through a book as you stared at him in shock, no jokes or frowns came from him, he said nothing bad about your imperfection. 


‘’Mmm…’’Sam hummed, kissing all the way up your neck. You groaned, elbowing him playfully as he chuckled against your skin, his hot breath fanning down your neck. You turned over, still not over how perfect Sam looked in the morning. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, shrieking as you pulled the covers up to your face. 

‘’what are you doing?’’Sam chuckled, large hand pulling it down. You tried to hide but you were unable to. 

‘’I look so horrible! My hair is sticking up everywhere, I have sleep all in my eyelashes and drool on my pillow!’’You groaned, covering your flushed face. Sam laughed, pulling your hands away from your face. 

He kissed you sweetly, hand smoothing down your hair. 

‘’I think you look perfect’’He whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours before clambering out of bed. 


‘’Awesome!’’You and Dean grinned in sync. You had both ordered the big sized burger, Sam sticking with his salad. 

You bit down into it, too much meat in the burger to handle as it spilled onto the table, some mayo smearing on your chin. You tried to cover your mouth, tried to quickly swallow down the messy food but it didn’t work out well. 

Sam was watching you with a smile, your face blushing as you turned your head. Sam shook his head, swiping his thumb across your chin and collecting up the mayo. 

‘’Ew, nice, (y/n)’’Dean cringed at your mess. How did Sam put up with all this, how did it not bother him? Instead he simply laughed it off and smiled at you as if you had just done something cute instead of ugly. 


You sat on the edge of your shared bed, a frown plastered on your face as you stared down at ‘it’. 

You thought about all the girls Sam had dated, how perfect and flawless they were. Then there was you, covered in scars from hunts, and not small cute ones either. 

Sam came into the room, watching you for a moment before he he settled between your legs and crouched down. He braced his hands on your hips, lowering his head and kissing your scarred thigh. 

You sighed, running your fingers through his hair as he delicately kissed each one. 


If it was something you didn’t have… it was a flat stomach. Your stomach was slightly round, still pudgy with a slight bump. It was basically anything but paper flat and full of abs. 

You always felt nervous whenever Sam would rub your stomach, whenever he would trace his fingertips over the smooth skin. It didn’t seem to bother him, but you knew if he saw a girl with a flat stomach then it would.

Today was just that. A girl you were interviewing was wearing a crop top, she happened to be a dancer, flexible, flat stomach that showed her abs. 

You felt insanely insecure especially since Dean kept commenting on it. Sam simply laughed at his brother, standing behind your and rubbing your stomach. You tried to suck in but you still felt like he could feel all the lumps and bumps. 

You glanced up at Sam who seemed quite happy and content, not even looking at the girl. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t bothered by it. 


You were a hunter, yes. But clumsy was your middle name. You tripped all the time. You were hunting with a partner, a girl who was steady on her feet and graceful. 

You were all sneaking into the warehouse, trying to be quiet until you had tripped on some wire and did a full gambol forwards and landed on your bum. You sat slightly shocked, looking flustered and embarrassed.  

The three of them turned back to you, the girl rolling her eyes as Dean rose his brows at you. Sam simply walked over, chuckling as he walked up to you and let the other two walk off. 

‘’What have you done?’’He laughed, trying to untangle you. You didn’t know it, to you you looked like an idiot who was tangled up in wires. But, to Sam? To Sam you looked like an adorable puppy who had been caught being naughty and tried to act innocent. 

You red cheeks only made him coo over you even more, smiling widely as he unravelled you and helped you up. 


‘’Sam, can I talk to you’’You whispered, your cheek wet with tears. Sam frowned, standing up as he grasped your hand. 

‘’Baby, what’s wrong?’’he whispered, caressing your cheek. Then you spilled it all, telling him how you felt like you didn’t deserve him and how clumsy and stupid you were. 

Sam chuckled shaking his head before wiping your tears. 

‘’Baby, I think all those things you do are adoable. You looked so cute the other day when I had to untangle you, I don’t want a girl that is perfect and never screws up. I like that you eat messily, I like that you have scars. It proves that you’re human and it’s what makes you, you.’’

beyond affinity.

Pairing: Park Jimin / Min Yoongi.

Genre: Complete adoration / Vague smut.

Summary: Jimin and Yoongi save all of their love for the evening of a Thursday, the waking moments of a Friday. Inspired by this gorgeous artwork by @artofennun – a gift for always creating such beautiful pieces that never fail to blow me away.

Count: 1,756 words.

I. static

The air tastes, sounds akin white noise. A placid chill encourages bodies to lay close, silent, though near. Little light illuminates the bedroom, a digital screen the only source, and although dim, it is enough.

Yoongi cards his fingers through strands of honey, they melt in his palms, and Jimin sighs. Upon a calm ocean, they sail, the surface as clear as glass, a vessel constructed of mattress and bedsheets, held together by their bodies entwined, Yoongi laying on his side to view the laptop he intently reads from whilst Jimin coasts the edge of sleep, an arm laced between his lover’s thighs so he can rest his head upon the hip. A pillow made of flesh and bone, of a being that breathes for their mutual limerence, the perfect position that allows comfort, safety – where Yoongi can simply race his fingertips through golden hair, and Jimin can indulge, be coaxed to the summit of sleep by a touch that adores him like no other.

Keep reading

Scars to your Beautiful

Warning this is triggering. 

To all of you out there struggling with self hate, I love you all so much and hope you get through it because no one understands how scary it is fighting a battle with your self.

I just want to be beautiful, she thought to herself as she stared at her reflection in the mirror with  nothing but pure hatred  at what she saw. She could point out so many flaws, imperfections, things that should be improved.

“Cover girls eat nothing” she says to herself. She was confused. How could I not be eating and still not be thin enough? She had been trying to perfect herself however she was starting to think that there was no use in trying because she was beyond repair.

“Y/n” Shawn called his footsteps becoming louder signalling that he was getting closer.

Hurriedly, y/n pulled down her oversized sweater hiding away the body that she was ashamed of. She wiped away the tears that had escaped and washed her face just as Shawn had entered the bathroom. Behind her he stood in the doorway of the bathroom watching her. He was becoming worried he knew she wasn’t eating and he wanted to help but y/n was shutting him out, refusing to tell him what was bothering her. Shawn couldn’t understand how someone so beautiful, so perfect,  couldn’t see the fact that she is beyond expectations.

“I made lunch.” Shawn tried. He knew that she would reject it but he felt the need to try.

Y/n avoided looking at Shawn as she raised her gaze to the mirror before her and wiped away the water on her face with a face towel passing off as though she had just been washing her face instead of examining herself.

“I’m not hungry.” She lied looking down at the sink to make sure Shawn didn’t catch her gaze. She felt nauseas and dizzy but refused to give into it, What’s a little bit of hunger? I can go a little while longer without anything happening. She pushed the thought of giving into Shawn’s offer away and turned around to face Shawn with a bland expression that she had hoped looked normal.

“y/n” Shawn sighed. It pained him.

Had he done her wrong, forgotten to reminded her how beautiful she was, not loved her enough. He felt responsible for the sudden hate that y/n felt towards herself. He knew she had never been comfortable with her appearance but he could have sworn that she began to gain confidence when they started dating.

“I can help you if you just tell me what’s wrong.” Shawn went to step forward but y/n stepped back her body now pressed against the basin. Shawn shuttered momentarily, why would she step away like that.

“I’m fine” She covers up her pain with a smile before making to walk past Shawn.  

Shawn reached out gently grabbing her forearm as she walked past catching her off guard. The warmth of his familiar touch triggered something  that y/n hadn’t felt  for what felt like a life time ago. She looked up her eyes meeting his warm caramel ones, her heart fluttered the way it always had when Shawn made her feel loved. He was hoping that with this he could say more than words could but just to make sure she understood he whispered. “You know you beautiful just the way you are, right?”.

Y/n blinked breaking there gaze before turning her attention back to the tiled floor of the bathroom.

He doesn’t understand, she told herself, I’m sick of being envious of those girls with gorgeous bodies. I want to be the envied, the praised, I want people to complement me on the flaws that I have perfected. With a slight tug she realised her arm from Shawn’s gentle grip before leaving the bathroom. She was beginning to feel dizzier and decided that a lie down would help.

“You left your phone” Shawn said entering there shared bedroom. Y/n didn’t respond finding nothing important of the matter. “What does this mean?” Shawn asks causing y/n to look up at him. He was staring down at her phone reading the quote on the lock screen that had replaced the silly selfie of the two as y/n’s background.

“Beauty is pain and there’s beauty in everything.” He read aloud trying to make sense of it.

“Beauty its pain.” She stated the first part clearly as it was simple. “And there’s beauty in everything, so there’s pain in everything” She continued

Shawn sighed loudly. He was growing frustrated. All he was doing in hopes to help y/n yet it seemed like it had no affect what so ever.

“Y/n” Shawn ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to keep himself calm. He knew that in this fragile state it would hurt y/n more than usual if he got frustrated. “Please just talk to me.”

“Talk to you about what?” y/n snapped. The lack of food in her system was causing her to be more temperamental than usual but she wasn’t the slightest bit aware. All she was focused on was her goal to be ‘perfection’. “Honestly stop babying me I’m not a child you need to watch twenty-four seven.”

“I’m not babying you I’m just worried.” Shawn’s voice rose in hopes to match y/n’s. It pained him to see her like this, not even wanting his help.

“Worried about what ?I’m fine!” She stood up but her height was nothing intimidating to Shawn, He still towered over her.

“You’re not fine. What happened to you? You used to be so much fun, so easy going, so confident and now you’ve become.” Shawn stopped he didn’t know how to explain her current state. It wasn’t her fault, he knew that. Something had dragged her deep down away from the person that she once was.

Y/n paused for a moment. It was as though the monster that had taken over her, continuously telling her she wasn’t enough, knew that Shawn was right. She wasn’t as happy as she once was, she didn’t find pleasure in the small things like she used to, everything just felt empty. Not wanting to admit it to Shawn, she got angrier.

“What have I become?” She quizzed placing her hands on her hips staring menacingly up at Shawn as if daring him to respond to it.

Startled by this response Shawn’s fetures whitened. His expression balnk, his insides turning. Dose y/n not care what happens between us anymore, Had she given up even on us, The thought broke his heart. He couldn’t recognise the girl standing before him. Now so fragile and broken not full of life as she once had been.

“Your just not the same.” Shawn realised that this wasn’t the right response. Wishing he could take it back as y/n’s frown grew.

“Well if I’m not the same then why are you trying so bad?” Y/n hoped he would say those three words, I love you, that would make everything okay. But unaware of how to fix the mess that had formed Shawn stood still as if stunned hoping not to make the situation worse. “I get it.” Y/n’s voice had become so small that what she said was barley a whisper. She turned her gaze away from the boy she loved down to the carpeted floor. “You don’t want to try anymore.” Shawn couldn’t make out the words that had come from y/n’s mouth because of the ragging lump in her throat.

As soon as the words had registered in Shawn’s mind panic filled him. That’s not what I meant, I just want my y/n back, I want to see that smile, here that laugh, I want y/n. But none of these thoughts that where racing through his mind made their way to his lips. While he was too busy searching his brain for the right thing to say, the thing that would fix the whole situation tell y/n what he truly meant, he hadn’t realised that y/n had left the room until he heard the front door close. His instincts coming back to him at the sound of the door clicking shut.

 let me know if you want a part 2 and requests are open.

Little Things- Magcon

Nash: “Your hand fits in mine like it’s made just for me, But bear this in mind, it was meant to be“

Laying on the couch with your head against Nash’s chest, everything seemed perfect. He was holding you close, both of you whispering I love you’s. His hand took yours in his, both your hands fitting together like a puzzle piece.And both of you did fit together like a puzzle, because you both were perfect for each other.  You were resistant at first in your relationship because you didn’t know if it was meant to be, you thought at 17 you couldn’t know if he was your one and only. But after a few months you knew he was the one. It was meant to be, from the beginning.

Cameron: “And I’m joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeks
And it all makes sense to me”

You had always hated your freckles for as long as you could remember. You thought they were absolutely disgusting but Cameron thought otherwise. When he first met you he told you it was your freckles that had attracted him to you. He loved how they made you so much more beautiful.  He always complimented your freckles, with any possible chance he had. He also loved kissing your freckles. He made sure you always knew how much he loved you and your freckles and made sure you never forgot it. He loved tracing the dots, making a different pattern every time he’d trace them.He would spend hours doing so because even if it was your insecurity to him it was anything but ugly.

Taylor: “I know you’ve never loved the crinkles by your eyes when you smile

Taylor’s eyes were concentrated on your face as you smiled brightly at the camera, he was admiring the way that your eyes crinkled when you smiled, making you more beautiful if that was even possible. The cameras snapped pictures as you both walked across the red carpet, posing. “What?” you whispered to him as you guys moved away from the carpet. “You’re beautiful when you smile” he replied. “No I hate my crinkles, Tay” you muttered to him looking down. “But they make you beautiful, I love you (y/n) and I love your crinkles by your eyes when you smile” He told you before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

Hayes:”You’ve never loved your stomach or your thighs“

Sighing, you stared at the outfit you had picked for the party. It just didn’t look right you’re stomach looked bulgy, your thighs looked thick and you were completely embarrassed. You didn’t want to embarrass Hayes. You tried sucking in your stomach but you knew you couldn’t do that for long. “Baby?” Hayes called out opening the bedroom door. “You look breath taking” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you. “Don’t lie to me Hayes! I look so f-fat, my stomach is huge and my thighs are t-thick” you mumbled,tears filling your eyes. He quickly turned you around making sure you were looking at him before speaking up “Don’t you ever say that about yourself (y/n) You’re not fat, you’re curvy and I fucking love it. You don’t have a thigh gap and your thighs aren’t sickeningly skinny, so what? I love your thighs, in fact because of your thighs your ass is much better too” he said smirking at the last line. “Hayes” you giggled hitting his chest and you knew it shouldn’t matter to you because Hayes loved you just the way you are.

Aaron:”I’m in love with you, and all these little things“

“Aaron, why do you love me even though I have so many imperfections?” you asked him when you both lay in bed just simply enjoying each others presence. “(y/n) baby” he whispered, cupping your cheeks. “I fell in love with you because all your imperfections are what make you imperfectly perfect to me. I love the way your nose twitches when your mad, I love your freckles, I love your chubby little finger.s (y/n) (y/l/n) I’m in love with you and all your little things because if you weren’t this way I wouldn’t love you as much baby.” he pulled your head into his chest, his chin resting upon your head as his fingers drew circles right above your hipbone. “I love you Aaron” you whispered placing a kiss on his chin. “I love you too baby girl” he whispered holding you safely as you fell asleep.

Jacob:”You can’t go to bed without a cup of tea,and maybe that’s the reason that you talk in your sleep“

It was a habit of yours, having a cup of tea before you went to bed. The hot liquid was soothing and your worries went away. It also prevented you from your embarrassing habit of sleep talking. Today though, coming home from a late night shift, you hadn’t drank a cup of tea. As soon as you made it through the door you were on the couch, fast asleep. Jacob came home later and finding you on the couch, he picked you up bridal style carrying you to your bedroom. He changed your clothes for you and was just finished changing his clothes when he heard a murmur. Your eyes were closed and you were deep asleep but you started talking “Jacob, I love you so much.” you first spoke out. With his eyebrows knitted in confusion Jacob sat beside you in bed finally realizing you were sleep talking. “Jacob I like your smile” you spoke out once more “And I like your singing.” He chuckled before shaking you awake, “(y/n) baby you’re talking in your sleep” he said chuckling once more. Your eyes widen as you covered your face “Oh shit, I’m so sorry” you muttered. He pulled your hands away and pulled you in a hug. “I think it’s super cute baby girl, and by the way thanks for all those compliments.”

Matthew: “I know you’ve never loved the sound of your voice on tape“

“Look at what I found baby” Matt came running in to your room, waving a tape in his hand. It was labeled “(y/n) singing”. “Matty!” you yelled, you did not want him to see, you hated the sound of your voice on tape. It made you feel insecure about yourself and you hid your face. Matt played the tape even past your protests. As the tape started playing, you peeked up to see that Matt had his eyes closed, his head kind of nodding as he heard you sing. Suddenly, his eyes opened and he had a huge smile on his face. “Baby, you didn’t tell me you were so good” he said, walking over to you. “I’m not good, I hate the sound of my voice on tape.” you mumbled looking down at your feet. “But I love it, you have a beautiful voice and it’s adorable, so don’t you ever think otherwise” he told your sternly before giving you a soft kiss on your lips, then he took your hands guiding you to dance with him around the room.

Jack J:“You never want to know how much you weigh, you still have to squeeze into your jeans”

You hated checking your weight, you were never the skinny type but Johnson’s previous girlfriends had been skinny, it made you insecure and you never let him know of your weight. But the time had come for your doctor visit, Jack decided to tag along because he had nothing better to do. “(Y/N)” the doctor said “We need to take your weight, please follow me.” You took a nervous gulp and stood up. “Stay here JJ” you muttered to him and you followed the doctor. You stepped onto the scale, and your doctor fiddled with the top part of it before speaking out the numbers you didn’t want to hear. “150 pounds” she started and you quickly stepped of the scale, tears burning the back of your eyes.”Hey baby” Jack said from behind you. You quickly whipped around glaring at Jack. “I told you to stay, I didn’t want you to hear about my weight!” you stalked past him and back into the room. “(y/n) what’s wrong baby?” he whispered kneeling in front of you as you took a seat. “I’m fat! That’s what it is!” you screeched out and then the angry tears fell. “Baby, I don’t care if your 150 pounds, that’s a perfect weight okay? I love you very much, I couldn’t care less about those stupid numbers. It’s all about who you are, not those numbers” he pulled you close to him as you cried into his shoulder. You knew that Jack loved you for who you are and those numbers did not matter to him at all.

Jack G:”You’ll never love yourself half as much as I love you”

“Jack?” you mumbled as you snuggled into him.”Yeah baby?” he said turning slightly towards you. “Am I fat?” you whispered hating how vulnerable you sounded to your ears. “What? No of course not! Why would you think that?” he asked his voice raising higher. “The fans, they keep telling me all these things, they hate me because they think I’m going to use you like your previous girlfriend. I hate myself so much more because of them” you whispered, tears sliding down your cheeks. “Hey, hey don’t cry” he mumbled, kissing away the tears from your face. “Don’t listen to them alright? You’re absolutely perfect and they shouldn’t matter to you.” “But they do, Jack. They’re you fans and if they hate me then it hurts a lot, their words hurt me” you mumbled. “They don’t matter because I love you. My love overpowers anything the say. I know you’ll never love yourself like I do, but that’s okay. My love is enough to help you love yourself. And I’ll be here through each step of the way” he kissed the top of your forehead making sure you were safe in his arms. He was right, his love for you was so strong, it ruled out every other person’s hate. Him loving you mattered more to you and you knew he would help you love yourself too.

Shawn:”And you’ll never treat yourself right darlin’ but I want you to”

“Just one more” you whispered to yourself, as the blade pierced into your skin. Blood gushed through the cut and you tried wiping it away but it was too deep. You held the tissue to your skin and you heard a knock on the bathroom door. Shit. Shawn was not supposed to be here. You let out a weak “I’m in here” to him. “Hey baby, open the door” he said through the door. “NO! I mean hold on a second”. Minutes passed but your cuts still bled and no matter what you tried it wouldn’t stop. “(Y/N), open the door!” he said about three or four times but you did not reply to him. “That’s it I’m opening the door” he shouted at you before he busted open the door and his eyes widened in shock as he saw you sitting there with blood on multiple tissues, scattered across the floor. “Shawn I-” before you could finish the sentence, Shawn was by your side and he took the blade, throwing it down the toilet and flushing it. Turning to you he scooped you up like a baby in his arms and took you to your bedroom. He held you in his arms, cleaning up your cuts silently as you cried. “Shawn I’m sorry” “No (y/n) I’m sorry, I can’t believe I didn’t notice this.” “It’s not your fault Shawn” “But why aren’t you treating yourself right? You’re absolutely beautiful, don’t harm your body baby.” “I’m sorry Shawn” you mumbled, ashamed. He pulled you both under the covers as he held you delicately like a glass. “I want you to treat yourself right and I promise we’ll get there, together.”

Carter: “If I let you know I’m here for you,Maybe you’ll love yourself like I love you“

Your boyfriend hadn’t spoke to you in weeks, and you were absolutley broken. Carter was on tour and it hurt to know that he didn’t care. Currently, you curled up on the couch, crying as you sent him a message. “Carter, I’m so sorry I was a bad girlfriend. Please tell me what to fix and I’ll do it. I hate myself for not being good enough. I’m so sorry for whatever I did.” Still with no reply you sighed the tears streaming down your face again. Suddenly hearing a knock on the door, you went to open it. Standing there was Carter with a bunch of flowers and a huge teddy bear that had “I miss you” across its chest. “CARTER!” you screamed, throwing yourself at him, he stumbled a bit laughing and set you down after a bit. “Why didn’t you reply to any of my messages? I was so-” “My phone stopped working baby girl and I saw how upset you were on twitter and stuff, so I quickly booked a flight and came here. I just want to be here for you all the time to help you love yourself and I’m so sorry I made you hate yourself even more” he told you and you pulled him into a hug, holding tight.”I love you so much Carter. “I love you too baby girl”

Venus in Virgo

The practical and devoted lover.

Venus is said to be in it’s Fall in Virgo. People with this placement are analytical, conservative and discriminative in love. Venus in Virgo likes working relationships. They value and are attracted to efficiency, modesty and common sense. Venus is in Fall here because there’s tendency to see impurities in other people, and romantic partners in particular. Venus in Virgo aims for perfection in themselves and others. They can expect their partners to be a certain way and try and “fix” them. Venus in Virgo is always trying to help others better themselves. People with this placement are also quite discriminative with whom they chose to be friends with, and whom they open their hearts to. They may only keep people around who can be of some use to them.  Venus in Virgo can put off marriage for a long time because they see so many imperfections. Once they realise that the “perfect guy” or the “perfect girl” doesn’t exist they’re amazing lovers with a desire to serve. Venus in Virgo people have deep insecurities and can pick themselves apart. They need to come to terms with the flaws in themselves and learn to love themselves, and once they do this they also accept the flaws in their partners. There’s a beautiful side to Virgo, and Venus in Virgo will do a million practical things for others to make their lives easier. They find pleasure in making things work and helping someone out. They love to feel useful. Venus in Virgo can be cold, critical and need a lot of warming up, but they are learning to be loving. People with this placement show love by serving their partner, and giving them stability. However they still require respect and admiration for their servitude. Venus in Virgo worries about their relationships failing, and believe they can make anything work.


  • Neat/Organised 
  • Nit-picky
  • Helpful
  • Submissive
  • Loyal

Blaine Anderson was such a sweetheart at the start and he had so many imperfections that could’ve made him a complex and beautiful character, but instead, the writers made him into this pesty Gary Sue who was so annoying and morally wrong (possessive, clingy, manipulative) and everyone in writing glorifies that about him. What a waste of character potential.

For those who are more curvy.

“Jagi, its dinner-time! I made your favourite.”

You could hear [BiasName]’s voice, echo through the house, past the walls, into your room. You had isolated yourself from him. The only person you had contact with was yourself. Literally, yourself. You had placed yourself in front of a mirror, without any clothes, just underwear. You had scanned the reflection numerous times. You counted so many problems, you saw so many imperfections.

“Jagi?!” He was outside the door.

“I’m not eating tonight!” You replied.

The door opened, “YOOO! Are we getting some tonight?!”

You stayed quiet. Your silence made it clear to him that there was a mood, but it certainly wasn’t that mood.

“Jagi… What’s wrong?” He asked. You saw his reflection appear gradually behind you. He raised his arms to wrap them around you, but you shook your head.

“Don’t.” You couldn’t stand to see him touch something you believed was vile and embarrassing.

“What are you doing?” His voice was worried.

“How could you look at me?” You replied, your voice revealing weakness in every word. “I’m disgusting.”

[BiasName] watched fresh tears roll down old tear tracks. “Jagi… what are you talking about?”


“Don’t you dare say it. Don’t say it.” He whispered assertively. “How dare you. How could you.”

[BiasName]’s arms caged you in a warm, fragile hug. “How could you believe in things that aren’t true? You’re so beautiful Jagi. Prettier than all the other girls.”

“I’m not, [BiasName]!” You retorted. “You don’t understand!”

“Of course I understand! How could you assume that I don’t. Every day I feel inadequate, that I’m just another money-maker with no actual talent! Every day I am reminded that I’m not enough, that I need to do better. Every day I have to deal with the pressures of being so perfect all the time. I have to set example now!” He cried, clutching you together to his own quivering chest. You felt his grip loosen as he began to speak again. “But I know that I’m enough. I must be enough if I have someone like you by my side, getting through my hardships. Thats why I love you okay? Because I can so easily live with the expectation. I know what you are going through, and I will help you.” He pushed your shoulders back his arm-length to see your face clearly. “Hey, if you wanna do something about your body image, I’m here okay? I’ll help you – we’ll get through this  together, okay jagi?”

You wiped away the tears and nodded.

“Now that you’ve got me excited, I’d say that dinner can wait.”


Woah, 3 in one day!!! Haha~ I’ve been busy (but really no life.)

Heres another installment in the my new series FTW (For those with/who), this ones about curvy girlies - like me. And although I’ve read alot of fanfics that surround this topic, i feel as if they dont really satisfy me or make me feel better about myself just because someone ‘supposedly’ loves me. For some reason I imagined jungkook doing this, hmm. So please enjoy it, theres more to come.

For those with Bad Skin (Pt 1.)

pastel-tooru  asked:

i need iwaoi angst with a happy ending. so tooru being hurt and iwa-chan passivly confessing (like trying to cheer oikawa up but like telling him he meens the world to him)? like telling tooru something that makes his heart melt? bc i'm really sad and i need something to cheer me up??? xxx

It wasn’t often that Oikawa lost his composure, usually the motivating spirit of the team, encouraging everyone else to do their best, because that was all that mattered. Of course, Oikawa was all talk, because his best had just cost them the match, his best hadn’t been good enough. His cheeks were crusty with dry tears, his throat sore from crying. He was fed up; he was weak, stupid, useless.

Oikawa screamed into his pillow, the soft material muffling the painful noise. He had been so desperate to win. He wanted to show people that he could do it, that he was just as good as the King, maybe even better. Well, he’d royally messed that one up. His knee was weak, he’d always know that much, but he hadn’t thought much about it after practice. He’d ignored the light thrumming behind his knee cap, simply attributing the feeling to a successful training session. He was wrong. He collapsed to the floor during the match, a searing pain shooting up his leg. He had bit his bottom lip so hard to stop from screaming out that he drew blood. He could still taste the metallic substance.

Iwaizumi had been right at his side, telling Oikawa how he was such an idiot, and he shouldn’t have worked himself so hard. Oikawa’s knee had worked itself back into place by the time the ambulance had arrived. They’d picked him up and whisked him away to the hospital he was all too familiar with. The doctors had told him the same thing that they always told him- take his medicine, wear his splint for a couple of days, then his supporter the rest of the time. Don’t put too much pressure on it. He’d laughed at that.

His phone vibrated on his bedside table, as it had been doing for the last five minutes. He had been trying to ignore it, but the notifications were persistent, insistent, and damn annoying. He groaned and raised his head from his pillow, wrinkling his nose at the tear stained patch he had left on the UFO and alien pattern. He should get that changed; he was 17, after all.

He squinted his eyes against the bright glare of his phone, having adjusted to the comfortable darkness of his bedroom. Sighing heavily, he opened the conversation.

To: Iwaizumi
hope u didn’t miss me too much!! how much did we win by?? ^_^

From: Iwaizumi
We lost.

Oikawa hadn’t replied. There was something in that text that made his blood run cold and his heart stop. At first, he thought it was the realisation that the King had beaten him once again, but he later realised he was wrong. It was the full stop. It may only be one pixel on the screen, just a tiny dot of code, but it carried so much meaning. It said Iwaizumi was angry at him. It said he was the reason they’d lost. It said Oikawa was worthless, pathetic, useless.

He bit back the tears that stung the backs of his eyes and threatened to spill down his already drenched cheeks. He continued to read.

From: Iwaizumi
We’ll win next time.

No we won’t. Not if I’m playing.

From: Iwaizumi
Are you okay?

Not in the slightest.

From: Iwaizumi
I told you not to overwork yourself, Trashykawa.

I know. I know what you said.

From: Iwaizumi
Why are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?

No, you could never do anything wrong, Iwa-chan.

From: Iwaizumi
I’m coming over.

“Wha-” Oikawa dropped his phone onto his pillow in surprise. Iwaizumi couldn’t come over, he couldn’t see Oikawa like this. Ignoring the doctor’s advice, Oikawa pushed himself up off of his bed. He winced at the dull throb this movement caused, but he was used to it by now. Dislocating his knee was almost like an irritating habit he couldn’t get over and just had to accept. He hobbled over to his full length mirror, the one that was lightly stained with sticky soda from the time Oikawa had shook Iwaizumi’s can of soda when he left the room for a few minutes. It had drenched his best friend, sticking his clothes to his firmly chiselled chest and firm looking arms. Long story short, that was when Oikawa realised he may have a slight thing for his best friend. And when he said ‘slight thing’, he meant ridiculously huge, undeniable thing.

The person staring back at Oikawa was nearly unrecognisable. His hair was mussed around his head, brown fluff sticking up haphazardly in all directions. His face was pale and sunken with exhaustion. It looked hollow, dull, almost resembling a skull. His lips were slightly chapped, slightly scabbing over where he’d gnawed on his lips earlier. The dull luminescence of the moon poured in through his window and caused the river of tears that had collected on his cheeks to glisten dimly. The brown eyes that usually sparkled with cheer were empty. They seemed cold, distant in the black circles beneath them. He was still wearing his shorts, but had changed his shirt for an oversized Godzilla shirt Iwaizumi had let him take, since it was way too big for him anyway, so Oikawa may as well have it to get some use out of it. It had smelt like Iwaizumi, of his deodorant, his shampoo, his sweat.

“Oi, Assikawa, you’re not naked in there are you?” A gruff voice came from outside Oikawa’s door. Maybe if Oikawa didn’t reply, Iwaizumi would think he was asleep and leave him alone. The hallway fell silent. The silence was soon broken by a sigh from the other side of the door. The next voice was quiet, muttered under his breath. “Please don’t be naked.”

The door slid open, light pouring in like a golden stream. Iwaizumi stood in the light, looking like some sort of ethereal being, his silhouette cast dramatically against the opposite wall. His dark hair, the colour of tempting chocolate, was haloed by the light. The ends of his hair seemed to curl at the ends, probably a result of the gentle drizzle outside, or perhaps the sweat after the game. His eyes scanned the room. They narrowed as they settled on Oikawa, standing like a deer caught in headlights.

“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Iwaizumi demanded, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I thought I’d get up and practice a dance routine,” Oikawa teased. He was going to pretend that everything was fine, despite the tell-tale tears still trailing down his face.

“Sit down, idiot.”

“Iwa-chan, are you my mum?”

“Sit down, Oikawa.”

“But I really need to practice this routine, dancing is my dream, my pass-”

“Sit down.”

Iwaizumi practically hissed. Oikawa gulped; although he took delight in teasing Iwaizumi, he knew when he’d pushed it too far. Now was one of those times. Intense eyes bore a hole in his back as he hobbled over to his bed. He collapsed onto the messy sheets, feeling instant relief from his knee. The throbbing subsided. Iwaizumi slid the door closed behind him, the light rattling mimicking the sound of Oikawa’s erratically beating heart. The bed dipped lightly to the left of Oikawa. Iwaizumi looked down at Oikawa, a look of worry on his face as his eyebrows knitted together and his lips were pursed.

“You shouldn’t frown,” Oikawa lifted his hand to prod Iwaizumi between his brows. “It’ll give you wrinkles.”

“And you shouldn’t cry, it doesn’t suit you.”

Iwaizumi’s look was so full of raw emotion that it made Oikawa’s heart stutter behind his ribs. He forgot how to breathe for a second, his next breath coming out raggedly against the silence of the room.

“Why are you crying, Oikawa?” His voice was so soft, so tender, as though he were afraid Oikawa might shatter.

“I’m not crying.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. He brought his index finger down to Oikawa’s cheek, trailing a path along it gently. Oikawa didn’t think his heart had ever beat this fast, this irregularly, relentless against his ribcage, as though it were trying to break out and reveal itself to Iwaizumi. The dark haired boy pulled his finger away and gazed at it.

“Really? Because these look like tears to me.”

Oikawa sighed and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He forced himself to ignore the warmth that shot through his arm as he brushed up against his crush, forced himself to ignore the delightfully close proximity. He turned his head to look at the shorter boy, who was still staring at his finger in confused wonderment. Oikawa pondered what he must be thinking about.

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa whispered, his voice cracking as he felt a new wave of tears threatening to spill.

“What the hell are you apologising for?”

Oikawa blinked, “Well, because I ruined the game, didn’t I?”

“You ruined the game?” Iwaizumi scoffed. “No, we lost because we played like shit.”

“You don’t have to pretend for me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa smiled lightly. “I’m such an idiot. You kept telling me to stop overworking myself, but I did it anyway. I just- I guess I’m just so done with feeling inferior. I hate feeling useless. Sometimes I think I was only made team captain to keep me quiet. I’m definitely not the best player on the team, but I reckon I’m in the running for the most useless. Oikawa Tooru, the most pathetic excuse for a team captain in the whole world. His special move is knee dislocation! Sometimes I think I’d be better as the gorgeous team mascot, but then I look in the mirror and think, maybe not. The stress is definitely thinning my hair, don’t you think? It used to be a lot fluffier. And I’ve got awful bags under my eyes, which aren’t particularly attractive, and-”

“I don’t understand how anyone so perfect can pick out so many stupid imperfections.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened. A gentle flush flowered up Iwaizumi’s neck, painted his cheeks and tinted his earlobes. From this angle, Iwaizumi was easy to appreciate. His hair stuck up randomly in every direction. It was a gorgeous chestnut colour, deep and rich like freshly brewed coffee. His eyes were a beautiful brown, with green flecks shooting out from around the pupil like an emerald flame. His cheekbones and jawline were perfectly chiselled, set in his face as though they were sculpted as carefully as a marble statue. Iwaizumi Hajime was stunning. Oikawa felt the need to trace his fingers over Iwaizumi’s face. He wanted to feel every ridge and every bump, wanted to feel the softness of his cheeks and the hardness of his cheekbones. He felt the need to follow the path of Iwaizumi’s jawline into the tempting depths of hair, perhaps even allow himself to run his fingers through his hair, to feel the feather-like of it against his calloused hands.

“Iwa-chan, I’m not-”

“You are,” He sounded so certain, like there was nothing in the world that would make him change his mind. The weight of this hit Oikawa. He let out a stuttering breath. “I would do anything, anything, to show you what I see when I look at you.”

Oikawa’s heart was in his mouth. The pair were so close together, Iwaizumi’s breath fanning Oikawa’s face, hands lightly brushing where they were set between them on the bed, the smell of fresh rain in Iwaizumi’s hair. Oikawa allowed his eyes to flutter shut, revelling in the sensation of being caressed so tenderly by Iwaizumi’s light breathing, shallower and quicker than normal. He would be content staying like this forever, he thought. The warmth of his best friend, his crush, his love beside him. He tried to ignore the thudding of his heart in his ears so he could better appreciate the sounds of Iwaizumi.

“Tell me,” Oikawa breathed. “Please.”

Oikawa always presented himself as so confident, so sure of his abilities, that it scared him when he doubted himself. What else did he have, if not unlimited faux confidence? So right now he just needed to listen to Iwaizumi. He needed to indulge.

“Oikawa, I-” He scratched the back of his neck. “God I suck at this. You’re right, you are an idiot. You should’ve listened to me. You scared the crap out of me when you fell to the floor like that, I thought it was something really serious.”


“But that’s why you’re the captain,” He continued, looking Oikawa dead in the eyes. “People know you’ll always work hard for the team. You’re damn irritating and overwork yourself, but you’ll always do your best for us.”

Oikawa could feel hot tears spilling down his face. They tasted salty, slightly stinging the cuts on his lips. His breath was ragged, his chest shuddering with every uncertain breath. Warmth engulfed his cheek as Iwaizumi brought a hand up, wiping Oikawa’s tears away with his thumb. Oikawa let out a shaky sigh as he leant into Iwaizumi’s hand, rough, calloused palm against smooth, dampened cheek.

“You’re not pathetic, and you couldn’t be further from useless. Even though you annoy the hell out of me, I can’t imagine anyone else as team captain. I can’t imagine feeling this way about anyone other than you.”

Iwaizumi’s face was burning by this point, and Oikawa thought he looked adorably vulnerable. The beating of Oikawa’s heart was almost painful as it slammed against his chest. He wondered if Iwa-chan’s heart was beating fast, too. He couldn’t resist the temptation, lifting his hand to rest it on Iwaizumi’s chest, over his inconsistently beating heart. A small smile graced Oikawa’s lips.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s whisper was barely audible. “Your heart is beating really fast.”

Iwaizumi gulped, his Adam’s apple dancing under the smooth skin at his throat. He still had his hand on Oikawa’s face and was absently stroking his thumb back and forth across his cheek.

“I know, God I know. Oikawa, please don’t freak out, but I- I think-” Iwaizumi’s voice cracked and he gnawed on his lip. “I think I like you.”

If Oikawa wasn’t flustered before, then he certainly was now. He knotted his hand in the soft fabric of Iwaizumi’s shirt, where it was rested just above his heart. The thumping had gotten faster after the declaration, almost matching the speed of Oikawa’s own heart.

“And here I was, thinking I was going to live a life of unrequited love for you, Hajime.”

If only Oikawa knew what that name did to Iwaizumi. It made him shiver pleasantly, it unfurled a warmth deep in his gut that he’d never felt before, it made his hair stand on end and it made him oh so desperate to kiss the lips the name had tumbled from so beautifully.

“You mean the world to me,” Iwaizumi moved his free hand to grab Oikawa’s. Both hands were clammy, but neither boy cared. Oikawa intertwined their fingers, feeling a pleasant warmth spread up his arm. He had waited for this for so long, had dreamt about this; the dream wasn’t as good as the reality. “You always have, I’ve just been too dumb to realise. It has always been you. This sounds so clichéd, but I honestly can’t imagine my life without you.”

Oikawa laughed airily, “Who knew Iwa-chan was one for cheesy romance?”

“Shut up.”

The pair fell into a comfortable silence. Oikawa relished in the feel of Iwaizumi’s hand pressed against his own. He enjoyed the feeling of Iwaizumi’s heart pounding against his firm chest, and smiled fondly as it seemed to dance to the tempo of his own heart.



“I’d really like it if you kissed me,” Oikawa dared a glance at Iwaizumi through his lashes. He looked a little taken aback, but soon regained his composure. He moved his hand from Oikawa’s cheek, running his finger along the edge of his jaw, before allowing it to settle under his chin. Oikawa’s breath came out in a heated sigh. Tears threatened to escape once more as Iwaizumi gazed at him as though he were the most precious thing in the world, as though he meant something.

“Thank God,” Iwaizumi breathed, before using his finger to guide Oikawa’s lips down to his own. It was perfect. Well, it was when they managed to find an angle without bumping noses awkwardly. Oikawa’s eyes fluttered shut as he allowed Iwaizumi to take control, to do as he wished. Iwaizumi’s lips were soft and warm, and Oikawa thought he could taste sugar. Oikawa moved his hands to do what he’d wanted to do earlier; he traced the line of the darker haired boy’s jaw, following it into the recedes of his hair, which fell like gracefully falling Autumn leaves around his fingers, knotting his fingers in the shorter hairs hidden at the back of his neck.

Oikawa swallowed the sigh that the other boy released. Iwaizumi moved his hands, resting one lightly at the back of his head and the other at the small of his back, pulling him in closer. Oikawa shuffled closer on the bed to help him. They adjusted so that their chests were pressed flush together, beating heart against beating heart, rising chest against falling chest. Oikawa’s nerves were on fire, every gentle touch from Iwaizumi sending a volt of electricity shooting through him, or sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

Their lips moved together in perfect synchronisation, and God it felt good. There were tiny, desperate gasps bubbling from Oikawa’s lips, which collaborated in a chorus with the practically inaudible moans rising from Iwaizumi’s throat. Oikawa never wanted this to stop. He never wanted to stop holding Iwaizumi, or stop tasting him, smelling him, hearing him.

It was with great reluctance that the pair pulled away, breathing ragged, faces flushed, hair and clothes considerably messier. Iwaizumi didn’t let the taller boy go, though, instead pulling him down to rest their foreheads together. Their shallow breaths intermingled between them, hot and heavy.

“Feeling any better?” Iwaizumi asked.

“A bit, but I think I might need a bit more to feel completely better.”

Iwaizumi snorted, “Only if you promise me one thing.”


“Come to me if you ever feel like this again, okay? I hate seeing you cry.”

Oikawa took one of Iwaizumi’s hands in his, curling their fingers together, “Of course, Hajime.”

Oikawa doesn’t know how long they stayed like that, whether it was minutes or hours, but it was a moment he will never forget.


Okay, so I got really carried away with this one! I ship IwaOi so much, so once I got writing this one, I couldn’t stop. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this one, and that it helps to cheer you up! Thank you for the request :)xxx

I liked how this one turned out, so decided to post it on AO3, too! Check it out here:

i’m not the best person, i’m so fucking imperfect in many ways but i’ll be good to you. i’ll always try for you…
—  r.h. Sin