#i'm good when i can live my life the way i want to and be healthy
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ANGEEEEEEL DO A LITTLE FUCKER AND ISHA FIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🫵🫵🫵
okay okay okay long awaited but let's do it finally ehheehehe
as always with these fics, don't ask me the logistics of how the pregnancy happened. it's yuri magic. have some fun.
men and minors dni
jinx is twenty when she decides to go to college. after a few years of taking care of herself-- through therapy, moving in with you and sevika, isha's good influence, and vi and ekko's support-- jinx finally felt ready to look to her future.
she got into a good school in piltover; full scholarship, because she's a fucking genius.
you don't worry about the workload overwhelming her, though she's decided to enroll in a dual degree program, studying chemistry and engineering at the same time.
you don't worry that her demons will catch up to her; she'll be living with cait and vi, and she'll be within walking distance of her therapist. plus, she's done a lot of good work for herself.
the only thing you worry about is isha.
though the girl is older now, around eight years old and much more used to you and sevika than she was when you first met, isha's favorite person in the entire world is still jinx. and the feeling is mutual. so, while jinx will spend her weeks with cait and vi up top, on weekends she'll come back to zaun to catch up with isha.
it's still a rough adjustment.
isha's just... lonely. you miss the giggles that used to fill your home-- isha entertained endlessly by her older sister's shenanigans. and despite all you and sevika have done to keep her occupied-- buying her new games and pets and books-- you can tell that isha's bored all alone.
"what if we had a baby?" sevika asks one night after you've turned off the lights and cuddled into her arms.
"another cat?" you mumble. sevika laughs.
"i was thinking a human baby, but we could get another cat if you want."
you sit up in bed, reaching out to flick a light on and stare down at your wife. "where the fuck is this coming from!?" you squeal.
sevika shrugs. "isha's lonely! we should give her a little sibling."
"wh-- like our own baby?! like one of us gets pregnant!?"
"well unless isha drags home a stray kid i don't see how else we'll get one." sevika chuckles.
you gawk at her. sevika smiles up at you. "s-sevika, we already have two to five children, depending on the day." you say.
sevika snorts. "ekko, cait and vi are ours only in spirit, love, they won't ever need us in the way jinx and isha do." she says. you pout. sevika snorts. "and jinx is all grown up, now." she reminds you.
tears well up in your eyes. "no she's not." you say, your pout worsening. sevika giggles and swipes your tears away.
"look; i know we said no kids when we started dating. but we said a lot of shit back then. remember when we thought we'd go hiking every saturday? we were crazy." sevika says. you giggle. "shit happened between then and now baby. life happened. deaths and marriage and adoptions and moves-- that kinda shit changes people. you changed me. and... we bought this big ass house for our family. might as well fill it up."
"well fuck, sevika, how many babies are you planning on giving me!?" you ask through a sob of happy tears. sevika laughs.
"as many as you'll let me." she says with a shrug.
you go to the doctor to talk about pregnancy the next week, only to find out that you're already a month into your first trimester.
"wh-- i'm-- but--" you sputter.
"she's already pregnant!?" sevika squeals.
the doctor laughs. "it would seem so. good timing."
sevika bursts into laughter and scoops you out of the doctor's paper covered seat, spinning you around her office and sobbing into your shoulder as you blink in shock.
"what the fuck?" you ask. sevika cackles.
on your drive home, you look over at your wife with a suspicious glare. "did you plan this?"
sevika laughs. "you think i'm that diabolical?"
"no, i just-- you decide you want a baby and boom, i'm magically already pregnant?!"
"i can probably smell it on you or somethin'-- my instincts could sense it. like how i can smell when you're ovulating."
you giggle. "that's probably how you knocked me up in the first place."
sevika grins. "fuck yeah it is. i did the math. i think it was the weekend we sent isha up to spend with the girls."
at the mention of your girls it hits you. you're about to have a baby. another one. your own-- one that you know from the first shit it takes.
you burst into tears, and sevika laughs. "there you go, i was waiting for that to happen."
"we're having a baby." you cry, scrambling to grab the hand she reaches across the console. "oh, janna, sev-- i don't know how to change diapers! all our other kids came to us potty trained!"
"i'll change all the diapers in the world, for you, love." sevika promises, kissing your knuckles. you laugh.
"you're such a liar."
isha's one smart little shit. you and sevika decide not to tell her until the second trimester, when it's less likely that you'll miscarry.
she figures it out within a week of you and sevika getting the news.
it could be the way sevika keeps touching your stomach, or the giddy kisses the pair of you keep exchanging when you think isha's not looking-- but something tips her off.
she sits you and sevika down one evening with a frown and her arms folded in front of her chest.
is there a baby in your belly? she signs. you sputter. sevika gasps. isha's suspicious glare melts into an excited smile. is there!? she asks with a gasp.
you burst into laughter and sevika shrugs. "we thought you might wanna be a big sister." isha grins, tears welling up in her eyes as she launches herself at you and sevika, laughing and crying.
i do. isha signs. i'm gonna be the best big sister ever. don't tell jinx. or violet.
you spend your pregnancy being waited on hand and foot by all your girls. vi, cait, and jinx all come to visit once or twice a week-- all three of them enchanted with your swollen stomach and always bringing baby supplies in tow.
isha makes a count-down to your due-date, bedazzles it and hangs it on the fridge so she can keep perfect track of how much longer she has to wait before meeting the baby.
isha's also started to call the baby her baby.
how many more doctors visits do you have before you have my baby? isha signs to you one afternoon as you wait in your doctor's office. you burst into laughter.
"your baby, huh?"
isha nods. i'm her sister! she signs, before gently reaching out and rubbing your stomach.
"what makes you think it's a girl?"
isha shrugs. most of your other babies are girls.
you cackle.
isha must be psychic, because your little girl comes into the world kicking and screaming in the middle of a family potluck.
it's horrible. violet passes out. surprisingly, ekko is the most helpful, giving everyone instructions and calling an ambulance for you while you wail on the living room floor.
isha's watching with a disgusted fascination the entire time, her lips curled in horror and shock, her eyes big and sparkling as she witnesses the miracle of birth.
powder and cait help keep you propped up-- both of them toweling up all your... fluids... while sevika holds your hand and kisses your head.
one baby, a ruined rug, and an ambulance ride to the hospital later, and your family finally gets to see you in better condition, and they get to meet your little girl under better circumstances.
"aweee." your four grown kids coo as they shove into the hospital room.
"hey, no shoving around the baby!" sevika whisper scolds.
isha pushes her way through all her older siblings, crawling up in sevika's lap to look down at her little sister.
she gasps in wonder. she looks like big mama. isha signs.
cait chuckles. "she does."
"what a little fucker, comin' out lookin' like the parent that did nothin..." vi teases. sevika scoffs and you giggle in agreement.
"she really is a little fucker. ruined our dinner." jinx huffs. "i was looking forward to that potroast, y'know."
isha giggles, pinching her fingers together, then flipping off the baby and pointing at her. little fucker.
you all burst into laughter. little fucker's silver eyes pop open, and she bursts into tears.
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner
@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther
@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart
@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette
@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp
@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner
@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke
@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25
@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby
@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb
#sevika#sevika arcane#sevika imagine#sevika x reader#sevika x you#soft sevika#i would love to do a part 2 to this bc#babies can start using sign language crazy early?? and i'm just imagining little fucker learning so early b/c of isha's influence#and then u've got a 8 year old and a 8 month old baby that can BOTH curse you out fluently in sign language LMAOOO
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well behaved
capt. john price
tags: smut/pwp, married life, wife!reader, husband!price, (house) wife kink, dresses, missionary position & mating press, misogyny, darker themes
price ran his team tightly. he had to. it was life or death, and the manner in which he ran his team, he saw great success. so it was only natural for price to run his home the same way. while it wasn't like a military task force, it was still ran with set roles and tasks for all members. he was the husband and you the wife.
and being the wife of john price meant tasks steeped in tradition. price wanted a proper woman to be his wife and expected only the best from you.
"don't touch those, john." you smacked price's hand away lightly, "they're for dinner, silly." then leaned over to kiss him on the lips.
"ah, sorry, lovie. couldn't help myself." he replied, "you know how much i love watchin' ya cook dinner. even the carrots." he leaned over and pinched your behind as he watched you continue to cook for a moment longer. his gaze lingered for a moment before he went back to the living room to watch the same.
that was your task, to take care of the home. you cooked price's meals and served it to him. he loved your cooking, to him you cooked like a proper chef and you were all his!
you got the roast out of the oven and asked in your sweet tone, "honey, do you want to eat at the table or in front of the television?"
"table's good, petal." he replied before he got up with a slight huff from the couch and with his beer headed to the table. he watched you serve dinner and when you finally sat down, you had your own plate of dinner. the missus gotta eat too!
price eyes the roast,but then eyed you across the table. in the dress you wore. you often wore dresses and fine jewellery. you had to look like a respectable wife after all! not the slags who called themselves 'barrack bunnies' that mactavish brought him. you were price's good girl.
before you could start your meal, price gestured for you to come to him for a moment. you obeyed and price pulled you onto his lap. he kept a strong arm around you. "my missus made this all for me, huh?" he pulled you a little closer. he got some of the mashed potatoes on the fork and fed it to you.
you replied, "no, you eat!"
"oh, don't worry. if i'm still hungry. i'll just have you." he said as his thick fingers touched your inner thigh. "pretty thing." he cooed as he played with your soft skin as he ate. in the process he fed you parts of his dinner.
price's task of the unit was to work and take care of you. you took care of the home and he made sure you wanted for nothing. if the rock on your finger was anything to go by, you were well taken care of.
"mmm, john. honey."
he chuckled beofre he kissed your cheek, "gotta take care of the wife. can't have an unhappy home." he continued to eat, only pulling his hand away from you when he had to cut the meat with a steak knife.
but even your amazing roast was nothing compared to your sweet cunt. that of course meant that you couldn't even finish cleaning up the dishes before your husband had you hoisted into his arms and headed to the bedroom.
price loved to keep you up. only right for a husband to feel up his wife. he loved his big, calloused hands on your round behind or your soft hips. he groped you as he unzipped your dress once he finally put you down on the bed. he then got you out of your string of pearls. you really did live a fairly charmed life.
your husband continued to strip you free of your clothes and he licked his lips at the sight of you when you were in only your push-up bra. he then got you out of it then felt up your bare breasts. he toyed with your nipples using his thumbs.
"my woman." he said, "nabbed yourself an older man who loved to make a mess of your pretty pussy. your love men who are bigger, hairier and who can fold you in half to ruin your cunt." he eyed you up and down, "i bet she misses me, huh?"
you blushed even more and you ended up splayed out in bed under your husband. he rubbed your hefty cock up against you. you swallowed when you felt the blunt head right up against you.
"my beautiful wife. so perfect for me. from the meals you cook to the cunt that keeps my boys safe. no need to masturbate when i got myself a wife to fuck every night. making me food, keepin' my house clean. you have no need to think too hard when you have a husband to do it for you." he sank into you and he watched your back arch. your cunt tight around him as he started to fuck you.
mrs. price's cunt was heaven on earth.
"mmm, john!" you whined loudly. the blunt head of your husband's cock hit deep inside of you. it felt like he was past your cervix and you knew very well that john price was a womb bruiser.
he continued to move against you, he eyed you as he thrusts. he admired your soft breasts. they moved as price rocked into you. it left him hypnotized. price kept his weight onto you, he kept you pinned to the bed. you were his wife and you'd take every inch he gave you. you whined under him and he admired you. every curve you held. the softness of your body. you were a heavenly, beautiful goddess. price's loving wife.
he bullied his cock inside of you. your burly, string husband who could melt you with the warmth of his love. while your marriage was a little more traditional and a little unconventional but, you felt more loved and adored than with any other man you could ever love. your older, strong husband would always love you. he'd die for you. so it was only fair you kept him satisfied
and that wasn't hard given how obsessed he was with your pretty little cunt. no other way to die than between the legs of his missus. "you're beautiful under me, lovie. you look like heaven under me. takin' me like no one else." he chuckled, "that's my petal, takin' your husband beautifully."
you moaned a little louder as he continued to fuck your soaked cunt. this was everything. price didn't need a woman with a forty hour work week. no, he needed a wife to care for the home. to care for him. you spoiled him with love and he spoiled you with whatever you desired. whatever you craved.
that was what a proper man did for his wife, he made sure you were taken care of. he loved the sight of you as he fucked you. your knees were hiked up and his cock pushed into your further given the new angle. price knew he was a bruiser and he loved it when his pretty little wife's pussy took him. the sweet thing he got to make a mess of every night.
he moved further and laid heavy kisses on you. he couldn't get enough of you. you drove him mad. no wonder he did everything to make sure you were taken care of.
he was addicted to his wife, his little housewife.
"ah, honey." you moaned a little louder, the pleasure was realy working through you. right up to your core. price's heavy thrusts sent shocks through your blood and your achy core yearned for him. he was a good husband. a traditional one, but he loved you and you loved him. you tensed up at the hot feeling in your gut. everything felt alive in your body was you needed him. you relied on your husband, even for things like orgasms.
"ah, please!" you whined loudly. you sounded almost desperate as price fucked you faster. you felt the fire in your belly as he nudged his cock up against you.
price's pace lost focus and the man was relying on instinct to get you both to climax. you felt the immense heat take you over as the older man roughly fucked you. your sweet moans sounded whorish as he made you finish.
"beautiful petal. you know how to drive me crazy." he laugh, a little out of breath as he worked your achy pussy through climax. the stimulation made your mind go blank for a moment. he loved you, he loved your cunt. loved it so much that he didn't last much longer. it was like you had him under a spell. anything you want, you got.
price fucked you through his climax and made sure every drop of him was safe in your gummy soft pussy. he pressed his forehead against yours when he slowed to a stop. he kissed you lazily with a lot of tongue as he pressed his softening cock as deep as i would go. you made the ideal wife for him.
and in return price did anything for his missus <3
#bunny writes#reader insert#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x female reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#call of duty smut#john price x reader#john price cod#john price call of duty#captain john price#captain john price x you#captain john price x reader#john price smut#captain john price smut#captain john price x female reader#john price#captain price#price cod
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Hiii!! is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons with Vil, Idia, Malleus and Lilia where a female protagonist feels self-conscious about having stretch marks and/or cellulite, thanks (Sorry if it's not spelled well, English is not my native language)
COMMENTS: So... even though I myself am a woman, I genuinely never saw stretch marks or cellulite as something bad or ugly, and I still don't. So maybe making the characters share the same vision as me would be accurate? The only exception to complete indifference is Vil, but not in the way you might be thinking.
Btw, I didn't see any point in writing this in a context other than an already advanced relationship given the topic. Fortunately, the 4 characters are 18 years or older so it doesn't end up being... you know, too weird.
I explain at the end why I couldn't write anything for Malleus or Lilia. But despite that, I hope you and all like what I managed to write. ❤️
CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud
TAGS: Fluff; Fem!Reader; Comfort; In a Relationship; Suggestive(?)
WORD COUNT: An average of 580 words per character
CONTEXT: I don't think it would make sense for two people to have this kind of intimate conversation outside of a romantic or even sexual relationship. So in that situation, he and you would be in a relationship.
This was an insecurity of yours from the beginning. After all, your boyfriend was none other than Vil Schoenheit. It would be worrying enough if he were a normal model, but he's not only a super model but one of the biggest in all of Twisted Wonderland.
He had already noticed that since you started dating you seemed more worried and less confident about your appearance and that was when he said to you:
“I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. If I wanted to date a model I could do it, but my standards in romantic relationships are others. Different from some of my colleagues in this field. I will always help you to further improve your image if you wish and feel comfortable with it. Please don't see this as me wanting you to change your appearance, but as an attempt to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.” He pauses for a second. “However, for some reason, there's something that bothers me about the possibility of making you start living the same lifestyle as me.”
But he would only get the answer to why that bothered him later.
“The truth is: you are my escape. I don't feel the pressure to be perfect with you because... you know I'm not and yet you look at me with more admiration than anyone else. You are my escape from the superficial and futile parts of my professional life. When you live in these types of environments, you start to lose track of what really matters and what really does you good. Thinking about you being swallowed up by this... and losing your genuine smile... because of me... I can't allow it! Please know that no opinion about your appearance matters other than your own. And it wasn't just that that made me fall in love.”
This may have made you feel more comfortable and confident about your appearance again, but as the relationship became more serious and you became more intimate, eventually your problem with stretch marks and cellulite began to affect your mood again.
At home, Vil had massage sessions from time to time not only to help him relax but also for other healthy effects it had on his body. He thought that now that he was dating you, maybe it would be interesting for him to buy massage products and for you to start having these sessions with each other.
“You deserve a massage probably even more than I do.” He tells you, referring to the hardships you go through with Grim and the others.
And that's when he realizes from your hesitation that something about your appearance has bothered you again. He asks you to tell him and that you can trust him. After all, if you couldn't, what kind of boyfriend would he be? And you end up talking about your stretch marks and cellulite.
“I see.” He says understandingly. “I've never had them myself, but I've met many women in the beauty industry who talk about it to each other. Not to mention the advertisements for products for it. Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating and you felt less confident about your appearance? I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. Furthermore, from what I understand, these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs.” He looks at you seductively. “You don't really think I would have any kind of criticism if you gave me the honor of seeing these parts of your body, do you? Why don't you let me give you that massage? I'll show you what I truly find beautiful about you.”
At first you didn't even think about it. It was only when the relationship started to get more serious and you started to sleep together from time to time that you started to worry.
Especially when Idia started having less of a problem walking around you shirtless. And giving hints about how he would like to see you wearing his shirts, without pants.
One day he says he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but instead of asking why you hide your body so much, he asks if you still don't consider him worthy of seeing his girlfriend comfortably sexy.
“You never hid the fact that you like to see me shirtless.” He says while playing some game on the computer. “I also want to see you like that. Not necessarily shirtless, that's another level, but like, you know I don't like to embody the confident handsome guy who likes to walk around with little clothing on." His hair starts to turn hot pink.” But... I like how you look at me when I do. And what you say. Which I never understood ‘cause I don't even have good physics. But you do! You would be that character that every player simps for.” He sinks into his chair. “But I understand, getting that kind of look from me is disgusting...”
You may have your insecurities, but he has them too. And finally you feel the need and the comfort enough to reveal to him that that isn’t the problem, that you would also like him to find you hot as you find him and that the problem is your marks.
“What marks? Like scars? Don't tell me you have cool battle scars, like doesn't that make a person even sexier?”
You say you're not talking about scars, but stretch marks and cellulite.
“... Yah... sorry, I think I rolled a natural 1 in intelligence for this. What was that again?”
You say they are marks, irregularities and dimples in the skin and that he can search them on the internet. He does that.
“It says that these are natural things that don't do any harm. But they can impact self-image.” He researches a little more. “Wait! Are you trying to tell me that you find these strips and irregularities ugly enough to the point that you have to hide them? THIS?” He smiles mockingly “Oh no! How horrible! Your skin looks like... skin! What a tragedy!”
He will be very happy if you can laugh with him.
“As if I would even notice that. It says here that these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs. Do you really think that if I saw these parts of your body it would be little stripes and dimples that would catch my attention?” The pink in his hair becomes more intense. “I may be a shut-in but don't lump me in with those worms who define their standards based on adult videos. I can assure you that's not what you'll have to worry about if you take your clothes off in front of me.”
He finally looks at you with a seductive look and smiles confidently when he sees that you are flustered.
I really really really tried to imagine scenarios with Malleus or Lilia, but I couldn't think of anything very meaningful.
Malleus wouldn't understand the problem even if you tried to explain it to him because... it doesn't make sense to him. They're just marks. He also has marks, like, on his forehead. Is there something wrong with this?
And Lilia would just laugh for you thinking this is a problem and just tell you to forget about it.
They wouldn't understand, because it wouldn't make any difference to them at all. And that's it.
With Vil and Idia I was able to think of something because they are, like, from this generation, and because one is in the beauty industry and the other is, probably, chronically online, they can see where your insecurity comes from. But for someone like Malleus or Lilia, this type of insecurity has no basis whatsoever. I really don't know what to write with them.
Sorry. 🥺
If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX
#3K followers#3K followers milestone#Twisted Wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst imagines#twst fluff#Twisted Wonderland Fluff#twst requests#Twisted Wonderland requests#requests#Vil Schoenheit#Vil Schoenheit x Reader#Idia Shroud#Idia Shroud x Reader
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Remus paused for a moment, before he suddenly burst into laughter. "You know, you sound like a fortune cookie sometimes. I fell in love with a fortune cookie!" Remus chuckled softly as he rubbed his eyes, but he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know what you mean... Who knows if we'll ever live to see tomorrow and it's better to get it off our chests and whatnot. But... Yeah, I would like it if we just stay as good friends for a bit and work our way up to being romantic." He chuckled, "Ems... I've never questioned that for a second with you. I know that every second that I'm with you. And you know what? I love you too, man. Im...not good at this, but like... I love you, man. And uh... That's never going to stop anytime soon. I'll smother you with kisses and cuddles and you'll never go a second without knowing that I love you and uh... Yeah, man, you know what I mean."
He peered up at Emile when he felt his fingers go through his hair. And he smiled softly, "oh, and these hands..." He reached up his hand so he could boop emiles nose. "Will only protect you, not hurt you, I can promise that in my life. I'll never raise these hands on you... I mean... Unless you want it?" He shrugged, "Who knows, you may have some masochist kinks for all I know... But it'll only hurt you unless you want it to."
Patton knocked desperately at the strangers door, praying someone, anyone was home. His heart beat as fast and loud as the rain thundering against the sidewalk. He was sure he was being followed, they were going to catch him. They were going to drag him back. He wasn't sure if whoever lived here might be worse, but he was willing to risk it at this point. Anything to escape.
{@moralpuppylover2}
Janus didn't know who would be at the door. It was late, but his master won't surely be home at this time. He normally doesn't get home until the sun starts to come up.
So, as the dog hybrid walked up to the door and opened it, he wondered who it could be. And if he should open it at all... Who knows, he may get in trouble with his master for opening the door. But, his curiosity was getting the better of him-
He stopped when he saw the soaking wet cat standing at the doorway. He could tell that this cat needed help almost immediately. Well, if his poor state of clothes were anything to go by. His eyes flickered up and down the sidewalk before he grabbed pattons arm and pulled him inside.
"are you alright?" Janus nervously asked as he grabbed a towel from the mud room. "Well, that's a stupid question, of course you're not alright! Are you...running away from your owners?" As Janus walked, the collar around his neck would jingle loudly. And even though it was cold outside and even in the house, he only had a pair of boxers on. Because of that, Patton would be able to see the numerous large scars that covered his body...and the countless amounts of fresh bruises.
@moralpuppylover2
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The way I loved you - Shadow's version
*A.N: sorry, I got lost reading some ff
"He is sensible and so incredible And all my single friends are jealous."
"Look at these beautiful flowers!" said Amy. "You have to tell me your secret, Sonic isn't the most romantic guy, ya' know" You were sitting in the living room of your apartment; it was small but cozy. There were plants in every corner, and despite the little time you had to settle in, you felt comfortable in this new house.
"And it's like, I couldn't ask for anything better," you said with a shy smile.
"That's fabulous! I'm so happy you gave yourself this chance... you know, since..."
"I know, I feel good, but I want to take it slow."
"And I feel perfectly fine."
When Amy left, you let yourself fall back onto your bed, in fact you didn't really feel fine. You missed him, you missed every moment. You couldn't blame Amy, you were too good at hiding your feelings. Only someone who knew you perfectly would notice you weren’t... happy. Actually, you didn't feel anything at all.
"... And it's 2 a.m., and I'm cursing your name. So in love that you act insane, and that's the way I loved you."
Every night, just before closing your eyes to sleep, you could feel his breath, his presence hadn't left you for a second in the last three months. Even though you didn't see him anymore, it was as if his memory was buried in your mind, like his image was tattooed on your heart, a mark you couldn't erase, one you didn’t want to erase. It hadn't been long since you met Dylan. He was actually nice, you'd bumped into him at the cafeteria, and he accidentally spilled your latte. After a thousand apologies, he offered to buy you a new one. You’d been hanging out three times, counting today, but when you told your friends about it, they were more than happy to see you back in the game.
"He respects my space, and never makes me wait, and he calls exactly when he says he will."
You checked your latest messages. Dylan had written "Goodnight and have fun, beautiful," after you mentioned you wouldn’t see him and would instead spend time with the girls.
"He's charming and endearing, and I'm comfortable."
"I'm comfortable," you said aloud, but when you were alone, hundreds of memories haunted you. Memories of when you had been so happy, loved like you never thought possible, cried, and suffered, but you did it all by his side. There he was again, always occupying your thoughts. At 2 p.m., when you had lunch, and again at 2 a.m., when you woke up startled by nightmares where you lost him over and over. You turned your phone back on, scrolling down to the bottom of your messages, and found his conversation. You read again the last message he had sent you: "I'll be late," with the date on the day you decided to move on with your life without him.
"He caused all of this. So… why do I feel like this?" you thought. You couldn't stop looking at the screen, hoping, wishing there was something more, that he had done something more. Suddenly, his status changed, he was online, and dots began to appear on the screen. He was typing. After three months of silence, he had finally reached out to you… your heart raced so fast you felt like it would burst out of your chest. The excitement, anxiety, fear, and anger were trying to take control of your body all at once. But when the dots disappeared, and his status went offline again, everything collapsed.
"Breaking down and coming undone, it's a rollercoaster kind of rush. And I never knew I could feel that much, and that's the way I loved you."
The next morning, you bumped into Dylan on your way to work. You talked about the weather, your outing with the girls, and his job. Dylan loved his job as an IT agent for GUN and loved to talk endlessly, something you weren’t used to. You limited yourself to nodding and smiling while he told you about the latest update he'd made to the criminal profiles platform at GUN.
"He can´t see the smile I'm faking and my heart's not breaking 'cause I'm not feeling anything at all."
As you walked through the GUN facilities and passed by the training center, memories flooded your mind. This time, you both had fought, but you didn't quite remember why...
You walked out of the training center, both fists clenched until your claws dug into your palms. You were upset, he hadn't respected the agreement to let you work, and his only defense had been, "You're not strong enough for this task, sorry." Once again, underestimating your abilities, even though, thanks to your effort, the last two missions you'd worked on together had gone wonderfully, and your colleagues praised your persistence. Of course, he was the team captain, and you didn’t expect different treatment just because you were his girlfriend; you simply expected him to start noticing your potential.
"And you were wild and crazy. Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated. Got away by some mistake and now..."
"Stupid hedgehog," you muttered under your breath as the raindrops began to soak your body. The wind soon picked up, and what started as a small breeze had turned into a storm. You had to turn back, or you'd end up sick, and they'd send you home. Just as you were about to go back, you heard someone calling your name. It was him, standing a few meters away, his dark fur soaked, and every quill dripping. His chest fur, once fluffy, now seemed flat due to the water.
"If you're here to scold me again, keep it to yourself. I was about to go back." In a second, the hedgehog was right in front of you.
"I'm sorry," you heard him murmur. "Don’t disappear like that again." Something in his voice made your wall of anger break. There, in the rain, with his face drenched and his red eyes, now dimmed, just inches from yours, made him look so... vulnerable. "No… I didn’t mean that you can’t do it, it’s just that… thinking of you, alone, out there… no, no..." he stammered, looking away. You had never seen him like this. You were so used to his strong, disciplined personality. Worry was not a word you associated with him, but now you realized he was worried about you.
"Hey," you said, gently caressing his face. "It's okay, I’m here, and I’ll be fine because I’ll have the best captain to guide me" you smiled at him.
"The best captain?" he asked, his crimson eyes regaining their sparkle as he raised an eyebrow.
"Of course! Sonic doesn’t do things as badly as you think, and... we have you too," you joked, earning a snort from him. You smiled as he closed the distance between you, pulling you into an embrace. The surprise was evident in your eyes. You knew he hated public displays of affection, especially at work. He didn't want people thinking there was favoritism towards you. He tightened his embrace as he felt your body shivering because of the cold, moving his face close to yours placing a soft kiss that contained everything he couldn't express.
"I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain and It's 2 a.m., and I'm cursing your name. I'm so in love that I acted insane, and that's the way I loved you."
"Hey! Moon!" someone called, snapping you out of your thoughts. As you returned to the present, you found yourself staring at the training center. Dylan had his hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention. "Where did you go?"
"Ah... it's nothing," you said, scratching the back of your head, your cheeks still flushed from the memory. "See you later, Dylan." You walked towards the main offices, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone else and trying to avoid running into him. When you reached the elevator, you heard a ring—a new notification. You quickly pulled out your phone and found a message. It was a simple interaction, just 3 words put together, but it was enoght to make your heart begin to beat again, as if waking up from a deep sleep.
Shadow: Hey
"Never knew I could feel that much and that's the way I loved you."
#shadow fanfic#shadow the hedgehog x reader#shadow x reader#shadow the hedeghog#shadow the hedgehog#sth#sth au#sonic fanfiction#mobian x human#thewayilovedyoushadowversion#shadow au
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Translation notes for Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu / Our Youth ep 10
Still here, still going. It's almost the end!!
You called/summoned me, didn't you?
Haruki: I'm sorry. Jin: I don't like that/No way. Haruki: What? Jin: Like how you're always quick to blame yourself. I don't like that. Jin: Then what should I do?
Haruki: What were you doing? Jin: I have been living a proper/decent life. I got into the university of my first choice, studied abroad in America, job hunted and have received an unofficial job offer. Haruki: (I meant) at that shop! Why were you alone? Note: I like how while on paper, it seems like Jin is put together, the truth is that he's clearly an emotional mess because of Haruki leaving.
I found out later that you had moved. At that time, I finally realised that we probably wouldn't meet again.
It would be good if that were the case (for you).
I'll treasure you.
Note: They are eating karaage (fried chicken), which is what they ate together when they visited Haruki's mum and what Jin had been planning on cooking for Haruki when Haruki got himself into the situation that led to him getting suspended.
I've already written my reply. My reply to your letter. I couldn't collect my thoughts, so it got too long and become like a novel.
"I built a boat to send out this letter that has become too long. Since it's a small boat, it will definitely not reach your sea. The waves will swallow it, sinking it, making it something that never existed. Even then, that's fine. Even if it doesn't reach you, I want to tell you this: whatever happens, don't force yourself to be alone. It would be good if you could become happy. I let go of the boat that carries (my) letter and it floated out to the sea. Riding the waves, the boat floated out into the open sea."
Note: I made a note about this in my post for ep 3, but the shortened Japanese title of the show is Miseinen, which means 'not of age/minor', which is also the title of Jin's novel.
Can I make your novel into a movie? After I graduate, I don't know if I'll be able to shoot it, so I want to film what I want while I can.
Miseinen / Our Youth translation notes・Other translation notes
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I'm going to try one more time because I'm I dunno a glutton for punishment or something. I don't have a lot of hope, though. My impression is that most folks aren't actually reading everything I have to say and are, at best, skimming. Which, to be fair, is par for the course on this site. For this reason there's a tl;dr at the end you can jump to if you're so inclined. The rest of this post is pretty long in order to explain, but if you don't really care about the explanation and just want to be horrified, go for it.
I'm fifty nine years old. I have been married for thirty six years. Prior to that marriage, I had been with a lot of different people in the 8 years between when I became sexually active and I got my spouse. So I am not inexperienced in either sexual encounters, problems relating to sexual relations, relationships (both long and short term), nor differences in hygiene habits.
In response to your incredulity over people's learned behaviors fading over time:
Habits of childhood can be difficult to unlearn. It's possible to make an effort to change a habit, but then for other things to come up that distract and the change gets forgotten in favor of the muscle memory from childhood. There are many things that I've learned over time that are better ways to do a thing, but sometimes still forget that I've learned a better way and resort to how I originally did the thing. There are many reasons why this might happen such as distractions or having too many things to think about so my body operates on autopilot for some things. If this continues for a while, one typically loses the new habit and has to relearn the new way of doing things. Though it does tend to come back faster than the initial attempt did, it's still a conscious effort that has to be made.
Back to the main point. The assumption I'm attempting to address here is the one where everyone learns all the same basic hygiene lessons and that no one could ever have any reason for not having learned to make sure to wash their privates all the way down to and including the perineum and anal area. This assumption carries a whole lot weight. Here's a partial list of things being assumed:
That they have a parent or family member who has taught them how to clean themselves well.
That the family had water that was safe to wash thoroughly in most of the time.
That the family had the money to pay for the water bills and didn't deliberately avoid certain washing rituals because of the cost of water.
That they had present family members at all.
That they weren't living unhoused for part or most of their childhood, making washing (and especially washing the private parts) less common or safe to do because showers and such weren't always available and washing on the street could get one arrested.
This is a list of situations I can think of off the top of my head that might mean a person wasn't really taught how to clean themselves properly or that might have prevented them developing the habit. It is hardly exhaustive.
Because I recognize that people have very different lived experiences than I have had, when I'm faced with a situation like has been mentioned in this thread, I'd be more likely to just ask some questions or try to have a conversation about it. As I said before, assuming that the relationship was otherwise a good one. No one is perfect and if I threw out an entire, very good, loving, and supportive relationship because of discovering a situation in my spouse's upbringing that was weird and a little gross to me, I wouldn't still be with my spouse. If, after talking with them, it turns out that they're just a lazy, dirty person who won't even try learning a new way to exist in order to not make their partner sick, that's a completely different situation.
Now that being said, I've broken up with a guy because of how he chewed (I could not stand it, his whole family chewed like that. Even the slightest possibility of having to spend my life around those people gave me the screaming willies. Still, I did mention it to him and he was unwilling to adjust how he chewed for me. So that was it). I've broken up with guys because I couldn't stand how they smelled even after showering.
I'm not saying it's not a break up worthy offense to not keep one's privates clean for one's partner. I'd probably be far less inclined to talk to him if he were an occasional partner, not a "boyfriend" but "boyfriend" suggests a certain degree of emotional entanglement that usually means one has put some effort into the relationship. It just seems extreme to not even talk to the boyfriend about the issue to see how they respond and instead to just dump them, but maybe that can be chalked it up to my extreme old age.
tl;dr Not everyone learns exactly the same lessons about washing their privates. Basic hygiene is a skill that has to be taught, it is not instinctive. Not everyone grew up with the same resources, family, water, time, as everyone else. The term "boyfriend" seems more involved than "fuck buddy" and so taking the time to talk to the boyfriend about something that's bothersome doesn't seem like an unreasonable course of action.
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Abby notices when you’re depressed. Let’s talk about how she handles that as your partner.
These are modern Abby headcanons. The list was much longer, but I cut it down considerably to keep it from getting too long-winded. I do have a piece written for WLF Abby. If it's something you want to see, let me know.
Thanks for reading. I'm glad you're here.
• Maybe it’s a slow descent this time… little by little, losing interest in your favourite pastimes and finding it hard to discover meaning in daily life. In the midst of trying to survive, there is suddenly no room left for indulging in your hobbies.
Abby, with every random blanket and sheet she owns, constructs a blanket fort in the living room, offering a pressure-free zone where you can do nothing but feel completely safe and loved.
Super cozy, not too busy, and mega peaceful against the demands of a world that is asking far too much of you in this moment.
Does she deep-dive Youtube tutorials on how to build epic forts that probably belong in a magazine? I mean, yeah. Give her a break, alright? Complete dedication is the way this girl operates, and I’ll die on that hill. Also, Abby is a tall, sturdy girlie, and she needs to fit inside it with you. If you’re going to live in this fort together for the foreseeable future, she needs it to be good for you.
Now, if you want an enormous blanket hanging precariously off the side of the couch with a half-dead flashlight and crinkled comics shoved underneath some pillows, date Ellie. Still cute, still the thought that counts, but she’s no Abigail it’s my mission to save you Anderson.
• Abby stocks up on all your go-to snacks because she gets that it's hard to think about the basics when you're too bone-tired to move… nevermind prioritizing measly things like providing yourself sustenance. She’s got you covered.
• She refuses to let you marinate in the feeling of being a burden. She shuts that shit down fast.
“You’re my person, okay? I’m not going anywhere. End of story.”
• Abby grew up around doctors, so she'll for sure be the one to look up therapists and leave the info pinned to the fridge beneath a small magnet that is, of course, a laminated photo of the two of you on your first date. She describes it as the most important day of her life and brings it up regularly.
“You know, I’ve seen this picture a hundred times, but every time I look at it, it hits me all over again—how much that day meant to me.” Her voice dips low as she confesses something so immensely sacred to her. “The day I realized you weren’t just someone I wanted in my life. I’d been waiting for you without even knowing it. I thought I had it all figured out before you. Fuck, was I ever wrong.”
(Just know there's no rush to decide anything big when it comes to choosing a method of healing, but it's there when you're ready.)
• On your hardest days, she stays close, but she doesn’t push. She’ll busy herself with repairs around the home or folding the mountain of laundry shoved up against the wall in your bedroom.
• Abby loves to buy those cute nightlights with little animals on them or the ones that change colours, and she scatters them around the house. When you’re lost in the darkness, right?
• She serves you warm drinks in your favourite mug and nothing else. She’ll handwash it a million times a day if she must.
• Abby's phone chirps with little alarms throughout the day, reminding her to do something special for you. This is all the time, not just when you’re depressed, to be certain.
• Weighted blankets everywhere. Vehicles included.
• I don’t care what anyone says, Abby is soft as a motherfucker, okay? Is she rough around the edges? Maybe. Yes. 100%. Fine, she’s a hot mess, but will she read you poetry aloud, until her voice is hoarse, and her lips go dry? Without a doubt. There are sticks and jars of lip ointment all over the place wherever Abby resides.
Fun fact: Abby hates when her lips feel dry, even slightly. She is constantly reaching for ChapStick and all its cousins. Whenever someone tells her she should stop using her precious lip stuff because it will improve the sensory nightmare in the long run, she’ll immediately do that pouty, nose crinkle thing at them and ignore the advice without a breath.
• Abby lets you wear all her sweaters. That’s a given. But when you’re depressed, she tends to reach for yours as well. It helps her feel close to you when she’s dealing with her own inner turmoil.
• She doesn’t fuck around when she senses you’re starting to spiral. Her routines are extremely important to her, but she will put them on pause to be there for you.
Now, does she gently, lovingly, force your ass to go on walks with her to get some fresh air somewhere you feel comfortable? Yeah, she does. This might be annoying at times when you’re really struggling, and she knows it. She’ll still encourage movement in a way that is manageable for you if leaving the house is too daunting.
If that means you’re standing on her feet, arms wrapped around her neck while she sways side to side with you, so be it.
• She'll binge-watch your favorite shows and movies with you until she drains all the power in the entire city.
• Abby won't make you feel awkward if you cry. She'll just start crying, too, even if she tries so hard not to. She gets better at keeping it to a little glossy eyed moment, but sometimes your pain is her pain, and the dam just… breaks.
• Abby is an actions over words type of human. She’s a doer. Also, timing doesn’t matter much to her. She is desperate to give you a future to believe in because she is so certain that what the two of you share is everlasting.
Abby proposes to you when your hair is a mess, and you’ve been in the same pajamas for days. Fuzzy teeth? Fear not. She isn’t afraid of the hard times. Her love is an anchor. A constant.
She wants to remind you that you’ll never have to face your dark times alone.
Shadows dance on the tapestry walls of the blanket fort, illuminated by the warm, flickering lights hanging inside. Across from you, Abby lounges with her legs stretched out and her back propped against a pile of soft pillows. She’s quiet for a moment, fiddling with something in her hands.
“You know,” she begins, her voice gentle and husky, like gravel smoothed by unrelenting water. “When I was little, I used to make forts like this with my dad. We’d sit in the middle of all the chaos and just… talk about random shit. Nothing outside could touch us.”
As she glances at you, there is a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips.
“That’s what this feels like—being with you. Even when everything else seems like it’s falling apart, you’re my safe place.”
Abby leans forward, her knees brushing yours, and you realize she’s holding a small velvet box. Her confidence wavers, revealing a hint of vulnerability you rarely see.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. About us—what we mean to each other.” Her voice cracks a little, causing her to pause and clear her throat before she continues.
“I know you’ve been feeling lost. And I know I can’t fix it, even when it kills me—even when all I want to do is make the hurting go away. But I can promise you this...”
She opens the box, the ring glimmering in the soft light, her affectionate, earnest gaze meeting yours.
"I promise you'll always have someone by your side to help you through it. No matter how dark it gets, I’ll be right here with you. For the tough days, the good ones, everything the world throws at us. Because you’re it for me. You always have been."
With each word, her voice grows softer, filled with an unmistakable tremor of emotion.
“Let me be your person forever. Let me love you, fight for you. Let me build you giant blanket forts until we’re way too fucking old to do it by ourselves—and then let me find new ways to take care of you. Because it’s all I want in this lifetime. You’re all I see. Will you marry me?”
#abby the last of us#abby x fem!reader#abby x masc!reader#abby x reader#abby x you#abby tlou#tlou2#abby anderson#abby anderson tlou2#tlou#lgbtqia
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𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐭 2
part one.
word count: 2.6k
summary: after meeting five in the apocalypse, the two of you have a hard time living together. can the two of you control your tempers for one particularly cold winter night to save your lives?
contains: smut so 18+! (reader and five are both 5 years into the apocalypse so they are both eighteen) grinding, dry humping, fingering
author's note: yikes, my first smut. my inbox is open and i'm taking requests!! id love to hear some ideas :) I really wanted to upload this quickly so it's not proofread but eventually i'll edit it . . . but hopefully you guys like this, enjoy!
Living with this stranger definitely changed your life. Whether it was for better or for worse, you had no idea.
The two of you walked for about an hour to his base, with very little verbal interaction reflecting the very little trust between each other.
After a little bit of prying on your part, you managed to extract a bit more background information about this guy who you would now be surviving alongside.
His name was Five Hargreeves.
He had six siblings.
They all had super powers.
They were a team of superheroes formed by their father.
When he first told you, you chuckled through the bandana over your mouth and nose, but he didn’t display the same humor.
“Wait, you’re serious?”
“Why would I not be?”
“Well maybe you just went cuckoo here and made up some super stupid backstory!” You replied, pretty certain that he was just nuts.
Then all of a sudden, he disappeared.
You jumped at a flash of blue light that suddenly appeared next to you. When you looked back to the area where he was standing, he was gone.
Looking around frantically, your eyes searched the dusty highway for any signs of him. But there was nothing.
Was he even there to begin with? Was he just a figment of your overactive imagination?
Your breathing grew heavy once again as you panicked, then suddenly that blue light and he was right back in his spot next to you, looking amused at your eyes that were wide with shock.
“Maybe you’re the one who’s cuckoo,” he said with a smug voice. You punched him in the shoulder before the two of you continued walking.
~~~~
His base was interesting, to say the least.
He had found a building that had only remnants of its walls intact, no roof, and used tarps to makeshift a roof and to cover the enormous gaps in the concrete.
It didn’t look trustworthy by any means, you’d probably be better off sleeping in cars like you’ve been doing for the past five years.
He lifted one of the tarps covering a significantly large hole in the wall and crawled in, letting it fall on you as you follow in behind him. You scoffed as you followed his lead.
He surprisingly had a good stash of resources. Several canned foods, boxes of pasta, and cases of water were stacked in a corner. A makeshift fireplace was in the middle, with a pot leaning next to the circle of rocks.
There was a small space in the corner. It consisted of what looked like a bundle of tarps and ashy blankets and pillows. You knew whatever happened to the world pretty much converted everything to dust, but he must’ve found those in cars, which somehow withstood some of the fire.
Since you had been sleeping in cars, you collect a couple of sleeping supplies you had found over the years. Thank fuck people decided to road trip before they perished or else you would have frozen to death ages ago.
You began unpacking your bag and wagon, but you could feel his eyes watching you intently.
Once you got settled, you didn’t really know what to do to break the unnerving awkward silence, he just sat there staring. You would tell him to take a picture since that would last longer but you're pretty sure there were no surviving cameras in the apocalypse.
The sun had set about twenty minutes ago, leaving the base to get darker as night grew closer.
He made his way over to the fire pit, and took out a lighter from one of his pockets. When he went to light the wood aflame, the lighter wouldn’t spark. He tried for a while until you couldn’t bear watching the pathetic scene anymore. You took one of the new lighters you had just grabbed today and handed it over to him. He scoffed and snatched it out of your hand, then lit the fire in one try before tossing it on the ground and quickly walking away.
You were taken aback by his childish actions. Sure, he was alone for years and only had himself to rely on, but now you were here so he shouldn’t be this upset to ask for help with a simple task.
“You know,” you started with an annoyed tone, “the only reason I’m here is so we can work together.”
“I don’t need you or your help,” he snapped.
You cocked your head, not offended but amused. You found his self-reliance ridiculous.
Sure, it would’ve done him wonders if he truly was the only person on Earth, having no one but himself to rely on.
But he wasn’t.
And you sure as hell couldn’t go back to the way things were before.
If the two of you had decided that you could continue to survive on your own once again, you would drive yourselves mad knowing that there was another human to talk to, that someone else was out there alive and that you weren’t alone.
You had to stay together to keep yourselves sane.
“Fine.”
You had too long of a day to even bother arguing with him. He’d either get used to you or die trying.
You got up from the dusty ground and tossed yourself on his soft makeshift bed, comfortably taking over. He groaned frustratingly loud, and he tossed his head back and walked outside to get away from the bothersome girl he now had to deal with.
~~~
A few months had passed since Five had encountered the girl at the gas station. That was the last thing he expected when he went out for more supplies that day.
He definitely never thought he would have to share his hard earned food supply, water supply, and base with her, but that’s exactly what happened.
She was impossible. She was incredibly sarcastic. She was such a pain.
And of course, she was a nobody. This meant whenever she got bored of staring into her gross canned beans during those nights by the fire, she would ask about his past.
He had already told her everything she needed to know, but she kept prying about how he got here, what life was like as a superhero, how his family was. At first, he would ignore her, or at least change the topic to distract her empty mind, but eventually he decided he could tell her little by little. He didn’t trust her, but he knew she wouldn’t try to kill him again.
Initially, he wasn’t thrilled about being stuck with a girl. He was focused on survival, and his alone. But he quickly realized she was incredibly capable of surviving in this long gone world. Hell, she could’ve shot him dead that first day, yet she didn’t.
He had been faced with the barrel of a gun several times in his life, yet he’d never felt the way he had when his life rested in the twitch of your finger.
Your anger did something to him. He blamed it on his teenage hormones, but he couldn’t get enough of when you would pounce at him with a clenched fist. He enjoyed bumping into you purposefully, tripping you, picking you up just to toss you away from him. His constant scowl only hid his raging smirk every time you would get up close, letting him see every detail of your face, how your pupils dilated with intense anger, just to yell about how selfish he was, knowing you were just as guilty.
If surviving on your own in the end of the world wasn’t hard enough, providing for two was nearly impossible. You had to be extremely cautious about your rations, conserving your intake only to what was deemed necessary. Oftentimes, the two of you would steal from each other when no one was watching, which would piss them off horribly, leading to even more fights. If starvation didn’t kill you, your deadly attitudes would.
Your tempers had gone through the roof once you started living together.
Walking away from a fight would call for a knife to be thrown at you behind your back. A snarky comment would result in a hand coming in and punching over your meal.
While neither of you were going out of your way to deliberately kill the other, you sure wouldn’t mind if it accidentally happened.
When the nights got colder, and autumn turned to winter, the wind would pick up, making it extremely difficult for the tarps to trap any heat into the base. No matter what the two of you did, the constant flapping drove you insane, and you had already been ticked off when he ignored every single idea you had. His bright idea of just stretching the tarp tight enough over the biggest gap in the whole base led to it ripping right in half, letting the winds fly in with no other tarp big enough to replace it.
“Great job, you dumb fuck,” you muttered as you turned to the fire, which was too small for its warmth to be felt from the beds.
Your nose felt like it was about to fall off, your fingers felt like nothing, and your lips were blue. You had put on every layer you could find and it still wasn’t enough. Surely, this was the harshest winter you’d experienced in the apocalypse.
You had usually been fine sleeping in cars, but every single one within a mile radius had been completely destroyed. The two of you would let out your violent rage on the vehicles rather than each other.
Five had stared at you from his spot by the hole in the wall, snowflakes freckling his face, holding the remains of the tarp. He did his best to cover as much as he could with the pieces then made his way over to you. He noticed how red your cheeks were, and how pale the rest of you was. You had sat down by the fire and dropped your chin between your knees.
“We’re not surviving this winter,” you said solemnly. You weren’t necessarily giving up, you would still do what you could, but you had little hope in yourself. Morale was hard to build these days, especially when all you wished was to throw yourself into the fire for even a moment of warmth.
For Five, giving in to the cold wasn’t an option. Not in the slightest.
He had an idea, maybe a bold one, but if it meant living to see another spring then he would do it. He walked over to the bed and grabbed as much as he could grab. The tarps, blankets, and pillows stuffed under his arms until he couldn’t fit anymore, and he dropped them right next to you by the fire and started laying them out.
You lifted your head up slightly and displayed a curious arch in your brow as you watched him remake his bed on the ground. The idea was so obvious you cursed yourself for not thinking of it first.
As you were getting up to grab your bed supplies, a freezing hand pulled you back down and into him. You caught your balance with your hand on his jacketed shoulder, “What the hell?-”
“Just listen to me,” he cut you off, “The only way either of us is gonna last the night is if we use our body heat. The fire’s going to help but it won’t be enough.”
You scowled, was that seriously the only option?
Instead of letting you take your sweet time to contemplate whether or not it was worth it to cuddle with him for your life, he tugged you into him and laid down with you.
His arms wrapped around your front as he held you against his chest, and holy fuck, it felt as if you had been leaning against a furnace. His heat warmed you up quickly, and you brought a blanket up to your chin to keep that heat locked in.
The proximity of the two of you was what kept you from falling asleep immediately. His chin resting in your neck made you feel something you didn’t want to admit you felt about Five. His arms around your waist made you want him to move his hands just a little bit lower.
You had an idea that could get you killed.
While pretending to adjust and get comfortable, you gently grinded your ass against him, trying to get a reaction.
Immediately, you could feel his arms tighten around you, and a bulge was already pressing into you.
He leaned closer to your ear and growled quietly, “What do you think you’re doing?”
You turned your neck to look at him, performing with the sweetest eyes you could display, “Just getting comfortable.”
Your lips were inches away from his, yet neither of you made a move to close the gap. Five still looked at you with skeptical eyes even though he knew exactly what you had planned.
Once you moved your hips again, a little harder, he pressed his face into your shoulder as he sighed and repeated the action.
You let out a quiet groan, enjoying the pressure, yet you brought the blanket up over your mouth to muffle it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
He picked up his pace, lowering his hands to hold your hips firm, rolling them against his. The blush on your face grew even more red, and you could feel beads of sweat forming on your forehead.
His grip was tight, his groans were getting louder, and it felt like you really had frozen to death because this felt like heaven.
His hand crawled through your layered sweatpants as he reached between your legs. As his cold fingers reached the spot you needed him most, you almost cried out, desperately needing the pressure.
His other hand moved from your waist, traveled under your sweatshirts, and found its place on your breast. The freezing touch had such a strong sensation, and the pressure felt so good.
“Please,” you let out, knowing you’d be kicking yourself later for sounding so painfully desperate, “I need more.”
He moaned in your ear as his bulge pushed harder against you, “We can’t.”
“Please,” you pleaded, as his fingers circled your clit.
God, you felt pathetic but it felt so good.
He groaned as he gathered your wetness.
“It isn’t safe,” he said, disappointed at the fact that you just couldn’t risk that in the apocalypse.
Before you could beg, he plunged his long fingers into you, soft moans spilling from your throat at the motions.
His actions grew faster and so did his panting, you knew he was getting close and you were too.
You turned your neck to face him, looking up at his flush face. He met your dazed eyes, admiring how your face glowed with pleasure. His eyes locked onto your lips as he moved closer and captured them with his.
Moaning into each other's mouths was just too much for you both, as he came in his sweatpants as you came around his fingers. He let you both ride out your highs before he gently pulled out his fingers.
He looked at you unusually sweetly, and as you turned to ask what that face was about he shoved his fingers into your mouth, sliding your juices onto your tongue, letting you taste yourself.
You were surprised initially and groaned at the action, then bit his fingers which caused him to scowl and quickly pull them out.
“This doesn’t change anything.”
“Of course not.”
~~~
tags: @groovydazephantom
#five hargreeves#the umbrella academy#five hargreeves imagine#five hargreaves x reader#tua five#number five#tua fandom#five hargreeves x reader#brisket five x reader#brisket five#five hargreeves enemy#five hargreeves angst#five hargreeves headcanons#five hargreeves smut#five hargreeves imagines#five hargreeves x reader platonic#five hargreaves x you#number five x reader#five x reader#umbrella acedmy#number 5#tua s4#aidan gallagher#dark! five hargreeves smut#number five smut#brisket five smut#number five fanart#yandere five x reader#five hargreeves x you#five hargreeves fanfic
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re: cancer men - the creators and dreamweavers of the zodiac:
okay hi hello. i was reading and am perpetually reading anthony bourdain's books and felt inspired to kind of break down at least astrologically the mystique of the cancer man. this is not a defensive essay but rather a piece that can offer a (hopeful) shift in perspective with regards to how we view these people in our world and our lives.
so the cancer man often has mommy issues. i hope you heard me sigh very loudly saying that because i hate using catch all terms for things that require nuance but it's a concept we are all familiar with based on term alone so it's what i'll use. my rebuttal to this is also - who doesn't? in some capacity? then i remember i'm a water sign and my mom was a cancer and i need to keep this moving on...
mommy issues aren't an indictment, they're most often just an indicator of areas where a person needs more support. perhaps they're a little scatter brained and need a partner who wants to help them get organized. perhaps they're a little emotional and have been told such their entire life to the point they're no longer wanting to be emotional so they need a partner who is willing to be a bending ear.
these areas of emotional need can lead to cancer men specifically tending to really need a lot of strong reinforcement from the women in their lives if they're unwilling to look inward and re-mother themselves so to speak. they can lean on their partners a lot because it's hard to talk about the deep feelings they have. when you agree to love a partner who shows you they need this support, you guys are gonna get mad at me for saying it, but it needs to be provided in a healthy and functional way. if you cannot provide that support do not take up with a man who already has inherent emotional distress just bc he dared to be born under a water sun.
that being said - i implore you, cancer man who may be reading this, to become your gentle inner voice. to reassure yourself that you're doing a good job and that you haven't done wrong. a cancer's fears can seem almost childlike to the uninitiated (do i know what i'm doing? is this going to last forever? what if they change their mind? what if? why? who? when?) but my rebuttal to that is also - all of our own inner monologues are our child selves or someone who hurt our child self. reserve judgement about the maturity of other's emotional processes.
cancers (all genders/identities) instinctively use their protective shell to get them through life. they are symbolized by the crab after all, so they sometimes assume costumes both literal and metaphorical.
in men these may be different personalities - you'll find the doer who shows up to your house with boxes and helping hands when you tell him you're moving, the quiet stoic lover who meets your needs in the most unassuming of ways, the man who is using macho as a defense mechanism who peacocks around and uses emotions as a weapon and finally, the man who is using his own machismo as a charming safe haven for others with hands that only wish to caress and heal (my favorite).
i mean god, a lot of cancer men either lean into the super affable cute sweet guy in hoodies and jeans while absolutely blasting the most insane screamo music in those headphones or they are tattooed, love to look alt because it hides that their top artist for this year was mitski just to give you an idea of the physical identities they may assume.
cancer men crave intimacy. their deep desire for enduring love, family, a place to call home no matter how transient everything else in their lives may feel isn't incidental, it's their birthday candle blow and falling star wish every time they see one.
they just have a tendency to rebuild their shells if they have broken through and start to feel unsafe with someone. they can become combative. the "yeah and what about you?" starts at that point and things can start to break down if you aren't willing to look deeper and realize he's hurting and that's why he's lashing out. it isn't okay, it isn't right, but it's the way cancers (and tbh all water signs why else do we have terror reputations) behave when they are retreating.
cancer men are gifted at making their loved ones dreams come true because almost always, they're making theirs come true as well through the process. they're life builders. commit to him and don't question him and he will give you everything you could ever want if he's done his inner work and he's ready to do so. let him build you the fantasy. embrace a man that loves you so much he wants to give you a babylonian garden of your own.
that being said, it's not your responsibility as someone who loves him to get him to that point so proceed as you wish but be aware that if you give up, you won't get the opportunity to come back once he's all fixed. don't cross a cancer - they're twice as vengeful as a scorpio with a virgo's very, very long memory and you will live your entire life being reminded that you didn't love them when they needed to be loved the most regardless of how true it may or not be. cancers deal in facts and feelings both and oftentimes their feelings are where the facts come from and experiences may vary.
but anyway yeah
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Oooh tell me how what you find interesting about the “I don’t know how you survived this long” line from Peeta. Now that I think about it’s so interesting to me that Peeta thinks lying is a necessity for surviving, and actually says a lot about how he was raised?
Ooo thank you for the ask @mage-chocolate!!
"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." He begins to mimic me. "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going." He shakes his head. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," he says.
Three different levels here: Living in Panem in general, surviving the Games, Peeta’s home life (this is more HC stuff)
In Panem
You’d expect Katniss would need to be a good liar with all her illegal activities, but fortunately she’s recognized this and has found other ways to stay out of trouble:
When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. Eventually I understood this would only lead us to more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts. Do my work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public mar-ket. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob, which is the black market where I make most of my money. Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?
Not to mention, she says the peacekeepers are among her best customers (don’t execute bite the hand that feeds.)
In the games
Let me start with a kudos to @cutpaperbleedswater for their point from this ask
The idea of putting on a facade and pretending to be something for the sake of strategy is everywhere- from Katniss slipping her mask of indifference on and not crying as soon as she volunteers to her interview prep struggles:
"All right, enough," he says. "We've got to find another angle. Not only are you hostile, I don't know anything about you. I've asked you fifty questions and still have no sense of your life, your family, what you care about. They want to know about you, Katniss."
"But I don't want them to! They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!" I say.
"Then lie! Make something up!" says Haymitch.
"I'm not good at lying," I say.
"Well, you better learn fast. You've got about as much charm as a dead slug," says Haymitch.
…
By the end of the session, I am no one at all. Haymitch started drinking somewhere around witty, and a nasty edge has crept into his voice. "I give up, sweetheart. Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience see how openly you despise them."
I’m also thinking about Katniss hiding her tears over Thresh’s death because it won’t play well for sponsors.
In Peeta’s home life
We know Peeta’s mother physically and verbally assaults him at least once in the past and it’s suggested it wasn’t a one-off occurrence.
So moving into the stuff of HCs: I imagine that Mrs. Mellark is sort of unpredictable - that she can be loving and charming (Peeta’s charm comes from somewhere and Mr. Mellark is often described as quiet), but she can also turn on a dime. And as a result the family walks on egg shells and Peeta, from a young age becomes accurately perceptive of moods (and then by extension others’), and learns to anticipate reactions and lie convincingly - skills he applies beyond just his home life.
#thank you for the ask!!#mage-chocolate#ask#Peeta mellark#tw abuse#tw child abuse#canon abuse mentioned
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Nobody can offer me a way out because nobody can comprehend the way in which I'm trapped. This is not even about the brain stuff this was even before all that. The only difference is I used to feel that I had some escape inside my own head and now I feel I have nothing at all. But I just. The basic thing is that nobody in my life has ever been willing to extend me dignity. They stood around staring and tsking as I fell apart and begged for help and now that I'm at absolute rock bottom they have decided to be helpful, and I have no choice but to take them up on that, and they get to feel supportive and good about themselves when they've been nothing of the sort. And,
I hate everything. I can't see how I could possibly. I feel so violated, so defeated. I can't stand to be in my own body. I see no way out. I need help I really truly need help, and I can't help myself in this state and I can't turn to anyone who is truly reliable and safe, I am fucked I feel that I am just utterly fucked. The reality is that I do want to live but I see no path for myself at all, I don't know what to do. I am so scared.
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You
MDNI!!
Warnings: Fluff, smut
Banner by @cafekitsune
Aaron stood by the window, looking out as the morning light filled the room. His smile lingered as he glanced back at Cleo, still peacefully asleep in their bed. The sight of her, relaxed and unaware of the world, made him feel grateful for their life together. He carefully dressed, taking care not to disturb her slumber.
He made his way to the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee, hoping to get a quiet moment before his day began. There was still a sense of calm in the house, a rare and cherished thing amidst the busyness of their lives. He took a deep breath, ready to face whatever challenges the day would bring, knowing that his family was his anchor.
Aaron’s heart skipped a beat as he turned to see Cleo standing behind him, her body bathed in the soft light of the morning. Her figure was still a vision of beauty, even without the adornment of clothing. Her presence, so familiar yet so enticing, filled the room with warmth.
His smile deepened as he met her gaze. “Good morning, my love,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of affection.
Cleo stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against his back, the subtle contact sending a ripple of warmth through him. “Morning, love,” she replied, her voice laced with sleep, but still full of that familiar playful tone. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his neck.
He turned to face her fully, taking in the sight of her with an appreciation that never seemed to fade. “You’re absolutely stunning,” he whispered, unable to resist touching her face, tracing the outline of her jaw with the pad of his thumb.
Cleo smiled, her eyes soft and full of love. “I could say the same about you,” she teased, her fingers gently trailing down his chest.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world outside seemed to fade away as they stood there, lost in each other’s presence.
Aaron looks at his girlfriend. “Damn. What did I do to deserve you?” He asks kissing her hand.
Cleo smiled softly, her fingers grazing his jawline as she met his gaze. "I could ask you the same thing," she whispered, her voice warm and affectionate. "But I'm lucky, too."
Aaron chuckled, his eyes lighting up with affection. "Lucky doesn't even begin to cover it," he murmured, leaning in for a slow, tender kiss. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his expression filled with admiration. "Every day with you feels like a blessing."
Cleo laughed lightly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Well, we make a good team." She paused, her gaze softening as she looked at him, feeling the warmth of their bond. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."
They shared a quiet, intimate moment before the bustle of the day began to call them both back to reality. But for now, in this fleeting moment, they were exactly where they were meant to be.
“You better get going. Trust me I’ll be naked when you get home.” She says. He smiles and kisses her softly on the lips.
Aaron’s lips lingered on hers for a moment longer, his smile deepening. "I look forward to that," he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise. He pulled back, his eyes darkening with desire as he scanned her once more. "But don't get too comfortable. I’ll be home before you know it."
Cleo smirked playfully, her fingers trailing lightly down his chest. "I can wait," she teased, her voice sultry as she gave him a wink. "But make sure you're not too late."
With a final lingering kiss, Aaron stepped back, heading toward the door with a grin on his face. "I won't keep you waiting long, love" he called over his shoulder, the promise of their reunion hanging in the air as he left for work.
That night when he comes home he sees Cleo in their shared bedroom. She’s in a lingerie set with a silk robe over it. The dim lighting from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow over the room as Aaron stood in front of Cleo, his hands resting gently on her hips.
He knelt before her, brushing his lips across the delicate fabric of her silk robe before parting it slightly to expose her stomach. His eyes softened as he kissed her skin tenderly, his lips lingering as if he were savoring the moment.
Cleo’s breath hitched as his kisses became slower, more deliberate. Each press of his lips seemed to carry unspoken promises, unspoken dreams.
Each kiss was soft, deliberate, and filled with unspoken emotion. His fingers splayed out, holding her steady as he lingered there, his warm breath grazing her skin.
Cleo’s fingers slipped into Armando’s hair, her nails gently grazing his scalp as he continued to press soft kisses to her stomach. He hummed in response, the vibration sending a shiver up her spine. His hands remained firm on her waist, grounding her, as if he never wanted to let go.
"Aaron," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, a mix of affection and desire.
He paused for a moment, tilting his head back to look up at her. His dark eyes were soft, yet intense, like they held every promise he’d ever made to her. "Yes, my love?" he asked, his voice low and warm.
Her lips curved into a tender smile as she lightly tugged on his hair. "You always know how to make me feel like I’m the only woman in the world."
"That’s because you are," he said without hesitation, his tone unwavering. His hands moved to her hips, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of her dress. "There’s no one else, Cleo. There never will be."
Her heart swelled at his words, and she leaned forward, her forehead resting against his. "You have no idea how much I love you," she murmured.
"Oh, I know," he replied with a soft laugh, his hands sliding around her waist to pull her closer. "But I’ll never get tired of hearing it."
Cleo chuckled, her fingers tightening in his hair as she kissed the top of his head. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
He grinned, his lips curving against her skin. "Only for you."
Cleo gracefully lowered herself to her knees, settling into her submission pose with practiced ease. Her back was straight, her hands resting lightly on her thighs, and her head tilted slightly downward in deference. The gesture was quiet but powerful, a silent acknowledgment of trust and surrender.
Aaron’s breath hitched at the sight. He took a step closer, his hand gently lifting her chin so their eyes met. His gaze was dark and filled with a mixture of tenderness and control. “My love,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek, “you never fail to take my breath away.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile, her voice steady but filled with devotion. “I’m yours, Aaron. Always.”
His jaw tightened, and he exhaled slowly, his fingers trailing down the side of her face. “You have no idea what you do to me, Cleo,” he said, his tone both reverent and commanding. “But tonight, I want you to feel just how much you mean to me.”
She nodded, her posture unwavering. “Yes, sir,” she whispered, her voice steady but brimming with anticipation.
Aaron took a moment to drink in the sight of her before leaning down, his hand threading through her hair as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Good girl,” he said softly, his voice laced with pride.
The connection between them was palpable, a perfect harmony of love, trust, and passion. For a moment, the world outside their bubble ceased to exist, leaving only them and the bond they shared.
Aaron reached over to the bedside table, where Cleo’s custom gold chains lay gleaming in the low light. Each link shimmered as he picked them up with care, his fingers brushing over the delicate design that he had chosen specifically for her. The chains were more than just jewelry; they symbolized their bond, a blend of elegance and strength that mirrored their relationship.
He stepped behind her, his movements deliberate and reverent. "Stay still, love," he instructed, his voice soft yet commanding. Cleo obeyed, her posture unwavering, her breath shallow as she felt the cool metal against her skin.
With practiced ease, he draped the first chain around her neck, the clasp clicking into place with a satisfying sound. His fingers lingered at her collarbone, tracing the line of the chain as if to ensure it sat perfectly. "This," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "reminds me of your strength."
He moved on to the second chain, this one more intricate, adorned with a small pendant that rested just above her heart. As he fastened it, his lips brushed against her ear. "And this," he whispered, "is for your beauty—inside and out."
Finally, he secured the last chain around her wrist, a dainty bracelet that glinted in the light. He kissed her wrist, his lips warm against her skin. "This one," he said, his tone filled with meaning, "is for your loyalty. For always standing by me."
Cleo glanced down at the chains adorning her body, feeling the weight of his devotion in every piece. She turned her head slightly to meet his gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Aaron. For everything."
He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. "You’re mine, Cleo. And I’ll never let you forget it."
Her chains now in place, she felt both adorned and empowered, a perfect balance of his love and her own strength.
Aaron circled Cleo slowly, his eyes taking in every detail of her as though committing her to memory. The glint of her chains caught the light, accentuating the smooth contours of her skin. His smirk widened, equal parts admiration and mischief, as he deliberately let the moment linger.
"Now, love," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, "how should I take you?" He stopped in front of her, tilting her chin up with a gentle yet possessive hand, forcing her to meet his gaze.
Cleo's breath hitched, the weight of his question and the intensity in his eyes making her pulse quicken. She knew this game, and she loved the thrill of it. Slowly, she tilted her head, a sly smile playing on her lips. "However you want, Aaron," she replied, her voice soft but laced with challenge.
He chuckled, a deep sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Such a tempting answer," he said, running his fingers lightly down her arm. "But I think I’ll make you work for it."
Aaron stepped back, his hands sliding into the pockets of his tailored trousers, his stance one of pure control. "Show me," he commanded, his voice firm yet velvet-soft. "How much you want me."
Cleo’s movements were deliberate, her eyes locked on Aaron’s as she reached for the waistband of her panties. With a slow, calculated step, she let them slide down her legs, pooling on the floor at her feet. She straightened, her confidence radiating, and reached behind her back to unhook her bra. The straps slipped down her shoulders, her hands never breaking their sensual rhythm, until it too fell to the floor.
Aaron’s eyes darkened, his gaze tracing every curve as she stood before him, bare and unguarded. His smirk turned into something more primal, his control slipping just enough for her to see the raw hunger underneath.
Cleo tilted her head, her lips curving into a soft smile as she whispered, “Is this enough, or do I need to beg you to touch me?”
Aaron stepped forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing over her collarbone before sliding up to cradle her jaw. “You don’t need to beg, my love,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But I want to hear you say it anyway.”
She soon moans out a please. Aaron's voice was low and commanding, his words laced with both authority and desire. "You want me to fuck you, don't you?" he asked, his gaze locking onto Cleo's with an intensity that made her breath catch.
She nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, Daddy," she said, the words trembling with anticipation.
He tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I want to hear you say it properly, princess," he said, his tone daring her to resist.
Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze, her voice steady this time. "I want you to fuck me, Daddy. Please."
His smirk deepened as he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers, teasingly soft. "Good girl," he murmured. "Now, let me show you how much I love hearing you beg."
The next morning, Cleo woke up with a contented smile on her face, her body still tingling from the night before. She stretched slowly, wincing slightly at the soreness in her muscles, a reminder of the passion they’d shared.
Aaron was already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with a satisfied smirk. "Morning, love," he said, his voice warm and teasing. "You look happy."
She rolled her eyes playfully and reached over to smack his chest lightly. "I wonder whose fault that is," she replied with a soft laugh, the glow on her face undeniable.
He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You didn’t seem to mind last night," he said, his voice low and full of pride. "And you were perfect, as always."
Cleo chuckled, brushing her fingers through his hair. "Well, I won’t argue with that," she said, her eyes sparkling. "But next time, maybe give me a warning before you decide to ruin me completely."
Aaron grinned, pulling her close. "No promises, princess," he murmured. "But I’ll always make sure you’re happy."
That night Aaron was out late at a table read. When he got in bed, Cleo shifted restlessly in bed, her mind unable to settle. The glow of the moonlight spilled through the curtains, casting soft shadows over their room. She turned slightly, her gaze falling on Aaron’s peaceful expression as he slept.
"He's going to kill me for this," she murmured with a faint smile before lightly running her fingers over his chest.
Aaron stirred, cracking one eye open. "Couldn't sleep, love?" he asked in a deep, sleep-laden voice, pulling her closer.
She nodded, her lips pressing into a pout. "My mind won't shut off."
A sly smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You know the rule," he said, his voice a seductive rumble. "Wake me up, and I'll take care of you."
Before she could respond, Aaron shifted, rolling her onto her back. His hands moved with practiced ease, tracing her body with a familiarity that sent shivers down her spine. "I'll fuck you to sleep, princess," he promised, his lips brushing against her neck.
And true to his word, by the time his ministrations were done, Cleo was curled up in his arms, her breathing soft and even, finally succumbing to the peaceful rest she'd been chasing.
Cleo stirred awake, the morning light filtering through the curtains. She blinked a few times before her gaze landed on Aaron. He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, wearing a pair of grey sweats that hung low on his hips. His eyes were fixed on her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
"You going to tell me why you couldn’t sleep last night?" he asked, his voice low and smooth. A smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "I can’t remember the last time you asked me to fuck you to sleep."
She sat up, adjusting the sheets around her as a small smile tugged at her lips. "I don’t know," she started, her voice soft. "Maybe I just needed you close. My mind was racing, and I knew you’d know how to quiet it."
Aaron raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to the bed. "You’re not usually one to let your mind run wild, Cleo. What’s been bothering you?"
Cleo shrugged, trying to deflect. "Just... life. Work. All of it. Sometimes it’s hard to shut it off."
He knelt on the bed, placing a hand on her chin to tilt her face toward his. "Next time, just talk to me, mi reina. You don’t always have to let me fuck the stress out of you," he teased, though his tone held a seriousness that showed his concern.
She chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. "Talking doesn’t feel as good, though," she said playfully, earning a low laugh from him.
"Fair enough," he replied, brushing a kiss against her forehead. "But I’m here for all of it, Cleo. Always."
Cleo sighed, leaning back against the headboard as Aaron settled beside her, his hand resting gently on her thigh. His steady gaze never left hers, and she could feel the weight of his concern.
"And you don’t have to work, remember?" he reminded her, his voice calm but firm. "I told you, you’ve done enough for a lifetime. You don’t need to carry it all."
“Now.” He says. “Do you want me to sex you into a nap or should we start our day?” He asks.
Cleo let out a soft laugh, her fingers lightly tracing over the back of Aaron’s hand. "You make it sound like such a tough choice," she teased, tilting her head to look at him with a playful glint in her eyes.
Aaron smirked, his hand moving to rest on her hip. "Well, it’s an important decision, princess," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I’m happy to start our day... but if you’d rather stay right here and let me help you relax, you know I’d be more than willing."
She bit her bottom lip, pretending to ponder the question as his hand slid along her side, his touch deliberate and slow. "You’re making a very strong argument for staying in bed," she said with a grin.
"I always do," he replied, leaning closer, his lips brushing against her ear. "So what’s it gonna be, my love? Start the day—or let me make you forget about everything else for a little while?"
Cleo sighed dramatically, pretending to give in as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Fine," she said, her voice dripping with mock exasperation. "You win, Mr. Pierre. Put me back to sleep."
Aaron chuckled, his lips curving into a satisfied smile as he shifted to hover over her. "Smart choice," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her lips. "Now let me take care of you."
Her laughter melted into a contented sigh as he kissed her again, his hands already moving with a practiced ease that promised she wouldn’t be thinking about anything else for quite some time.
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Nika the way you write !!!! Is SO !!!!!!!!!!!!! Every piece you ever make is so vivid and visual to me !! YOU ARE SUCH A STORYTELLER!!!!!!!
CAUSE AND EFFECT
"It’s infuriating to him, the way you get to use your powers. The way you don’t need to think about consequences, because they don’t have to be permanent, don’t have to be something you need to live with for the rest of your life. To you, time has always been something that can be changed with a single snap of your fingers. Whatever you do can just as easily be undone." - I am OBSESSED with Bucky's pov this is everything to me🥹 and the way he's thinking about readers powers being a gift while she's carrying it calling it a curse is SO scream worthy
"With all the good that you could do, you choose to do nothing instead; to stay out of the picture entirely and burn through your powers just because you can, wasting them all on things that don’t mean anything. " - GOD YOU ARE SO EVIL this is such a realistic first impression from bucky though 😔
"Something about her words strikes him like a match, and so he tilts his head and squints at her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s got it wrong." - Bitch I have CHILLS. (Also Becca knows he's in love w her) This realization is everything. Pure perfection.
"Honestly, he can’t. He’s still trying to pick up on it, the split second between before and after, that little change of your posture, your hair, your face, that tells him more time has passed for you than it has for him. " - FUCK OFF SRE YOU ACTUALLY KIDDING ME HES WATCHING FOR HER TIME TRAVELIJHBTHROUGH SUBTLE CHANGES YOU ARE INSANE SOMEONE LOCK HER UP IM DONE WITH HER GET AWAY
"He can’t help it. He wonders what your original answer was." - IAM KICKING MY FEET AND TWIRLING MY HAIR AND SCREAMING AND WRITIJG IN MY DIARY HE WANTS HER SO BAD I CANT STAND YOU
"You’re grouchy in the mornings and you make terrible jokes when you’re nervous and you have a strange feud with his cat and your smile makes him want to put his fist through the wall because what is he supposed to do with any of this?" - BAGSJSG THIS IS SO FUNNY IM SO GIDDY RN UOURE INSANE KISS ME ON THE MOUTH
"You’re you, and he’s him, and there’s a sort of "us" in the both of you that doesn’t exist in real life. So when you let him lace his fingers with yours and press your lips to his forehead and it feels easy, that’s usually the point when he wakes up, heart tumbling over itself, right hand tracing the ghost of your touch, always too much, never enough. " - oh my God get a GRIP girl I'm tearing up at this paragraph you are fucking joking and then you go and MAKE THEM HOLD HANDS OH MY GOD AND HE DOESNT EVEN FUCKING REMEMBR SRE YOU FUCKING KIDING NE RIGHT NOW THATS EVEN MORE FUCKED UO EHY DO YOU HATE ME RIGHT NOW NIKA OH MY GOD ??????????????????
here I am feeling all of the feelings with a SIDE PIECE you're clinically insane I can't stand you
Pls fix my heart I can't take this i need them to kiss rn and he together forever and ever 😭😭😭😭😭
❤️ a good time!
tat!bucky’s favorite (or least favorite) thing about twelve
… why not both?
cause and effect
chapter summary: How Bucky fell in love with Twelve: Slowly, and then all at once.
pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader
word count: 1.8k
warnings: light angst and negative self talk (this is bucky y'all); some light pining 🤭please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.
a/n: i've literally had this one in my drafts for about two years and i hadn't actually planned on posting it for a while yet but i did promise distractions. and i missed him. i always do.
this is part of the time after time universe but can be read as a teaser and/or a standalone 💚
Bucky’s relationship with time has been fractured ever since a cold day in January that stole away the life he was headed towards and turned him into the monster underneath a child’s bed.
It’s hard to feel good about the concept of time travel once a lot of your own time has been taken away from you. Even now, there’s only so many things in his life he has control over; like the fact that he’s actively choosing to go back to therapy now, or that he’s able to keep a pet for the first time since he was thirteen years old. Stupid little things, like what kind of food he wants for lunch or whether he should take the stairs or the elevator.
Every single one of these things he’s fought for tooth and nail, clawing his way out of the past and carving out his own space in reality again, struggling, trying, hanging on like he wasn’t able to all those decades ago.
He’s probably still failing.
Some days, clinging to the present is tense and brings him nothing but grief. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going to have to mourn the past forever, whatever might have been; and maybe that’s his sentence.
He wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. He deserves worse.
And then there’s you.
Flickering in and out of time, constantly moving, changing in the time it takes him to blink.
It’s infuriating to him, the way you get to use your powers. The way you don’t need to think about consequences, because they don’t have to be permanent, don’t have to be something you need to live with for the rest of your life. To you, time has always been something that can be changed with a single snap of your fingers. Whatever you do can just as easily be undone.
Once you decide you’ve seen enough, you can just take the scene from the top.
And you’re so stubborn.
You’ve already seen how this goes on if you let it, and so you’re always right, end of story. There’s an ease to your steps because of it, a nonchalance in every movement, and it makes Bucky’s blood boil to see it so plainly.
With all the good that you could do, you choose to do nothing instead; to stay out of the picture entirely and burn through your powers just because you can, wasting them all on things that don’t mean anything.
How many lives could you potentially save?
Instead, you consume disturbing amounts of caffeine and then continue to provide running commentary to the world around you based on things that, to him, never happen at all. "Do this", "don’t do that", "take the other one", or, his absolute favorite, "don’t make me fix that".
Why not? he wants to ask, say, demand. Why not fix all of it?
It takes a while for him to realize that all of your fire means you’re burning from both ends. In fact, it takes Becca.
"You should bring her by sometime," she tells him on a rainy afternoon. "While I’m still alive and kicking."
His little sister just turned ninety-eight. Her kitchen sideboard is filled with black-and-white pictures reminding him of all the things in her life that he missed, arranged in perfect little wooden frames.
"And why would I do that?" Bucky asks, scowling at his cards.
"Because you keep mentioning her," Rebecca says dryly and whisks the cards onto her pile with quick fingers.
"You gotta be kidding me," he groans, noting down her points. "And I don’t."
"Do, too. I don’t remember you being this terrible at this game."
"Because I haven’t caught you when you’re cheating."
"Exactly. It’s embarrassing." She wins the next trick, too. "How’s Tuesday?"
"Am I clairvoyant now?"
"I was thinking lunch."
"No." Finally, he gets a couple of points down. When he glances up at his sister again, she’s looking at him expectantly and he sighs. "What?"
"You can’t fault me for being curious," she says. She has just as many opinions as she did when she was sixteen. Her eyes are still the same, too, the same shade of blue as his and the same glimmer of archness as their mother.
"Don’t you think it’s weird?" Bucky says, finally giving in. "The whole … time thing?"
"I think it’s very weird, but so’s you returning from the dead and kvetching about it." Her eyes narrow when he starts to protest. His mouth closes again. "Besides," she continues, shuffling her hand around, "it doesn’t sound all that fun."
"To have the power to never make mistakes?"
"To have to live through every mistake twice without anyone knowing."
Something about her words strikes him like a match, and so he tilts his head and squints at her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s got it wrong.
That you carry not only your past, but all the futures you’ve seen that never came to be; all the what ifs having turned into answers.
And he thinks, how nice. And then he thinks, how horrifying.
It’s a thought that follows him over the next couple of weeks, and it starts reframing your interactions for him, in a way.
"Will you stop staring at me," you say without looking up from your book.
Honestly, he can’t. He’s still trying to pick up on it, the split second between before and after, that little change of your posture, your hair, your face, that tells him more time has passed for you than it has for him.
It’s more of a feeling than anything else, something right at the back of his mind telling him that something is different if he concentrates on it enough, but he’s never sure what it is. And he doesn’t like that; not one bit.
So Bucky crosses his arms and leans back. "Why?"
A flash of irritation makes your nose twitch, even though you still refuse to meet his eye.
"It’s rude, for one."
"Noted." He waits for the two that never comes. "Anything else?"
And there it is. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment, like the air shifting around you ever so slightly, a certain knowing glint in your eyes when you roll them and get up.
"Annoying!"
He can’t help it. He wonders what your original answer was.
***
Bucky’s relationship with time changes slowly, the deepest cuts carefully mending themselves until looking back doesn’t feel like getting his bones ripped apart anymore, until he looks at you on a cold day in January and realizes he’s fucked.
At first, he hopes that it might be a fluke. A trick of the light, maybe, or seasonal allergies. That’s the reason why his eyes are drawn to your face as soon as he enters a room; the closest source of discomfort always the thing he seeks out first. That’s the reason why his chest constricts like that.
But the truth is, he knows this feeling has been building slowly; he’s just been unwilling to admit it.
Something soft and delicate has started to nestle in that gaping hole inside his chest, unbothered by the walls he’s so carefully built up.
He’d never planned on you.
Fuck, if he’d known in the beginning, he might’ve …
No, he thinks. He wouldn’t have changed anything.
Because you’re too good for him, anyway, and he knows it. Smart and strong and funny and gorgeous and capable of things he’s not sure he’ll ever fully comprehend; and it’s worse than that, because he knows you now.
You’re grouchy in the mornings and you make terrible jokes when you’re nervous and you have a strange feud with his cat and your smile makes him want to put his fist through the wall because what is he supposed to do with any of this?
He’s not made for this dance anymore. That part was taken from him so long ago, and he’s delusional to think that anything or anyone could return it to him after all the bridges he’d been made to cross and burn. Why would someone like him deserve to be given tenderness anymore in this life? Why would anyone want to try?
But that foolish thing blooming inside him feels a lot like hope, despite of what he keeps telling himself.
There’s just something about you that keeps pulling him in, and honestly, he’s tired of fighting it. Then again, the thought of you feeling the same is nothing short of ridiculous.
He’s not the same guy as he used to be. Hell, sometimes he’ll look at old photographs and barely recognize himself.
He remembers life before, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard. He remembers talking to pretty girls, their bright smiles, their soft skin underneath his hands. Good times were easy to come by, even though life was hard in a different way, then. But he was good at it; acting on his feelings alone used to be simple, fun, second-nature almost.
It’s different now.
It used to be different only once before, and look where that’s gotten him.
No, he can’t say anything. Not ever; or not yet, at any rate.
Sometimes, though, Bucky lies awake at night and listens to the rain knocking against his window, and he remembers how much easier falling asleep used to be when he had someone next to him and his mattress didn’t swallow him alive.
He’ll remember the dark circles under your eyes and wish it could be as easy as asking, too. He wonders if there’s a universe you remember where he tries, but he doubts it.
These days, he knows his mind again. And it’s not a burden he wants to share.
You have enough to carry on your own.
Maybe, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling at three in the morning, maybe there’s still a certain comfort in your powers, in knowing all the possibilities, but it also means constantly losing something that’s real; always mourning the life that isn’t.
He can relate to that.
And maybe that means you can relate to him, too, at least a little bit.
It’s odd, how comforting that last little thought is to him.
When he does eventually fall asleep, you make your way into his dreams, too, sometimes. Those times are the worst.
You’re you, and he’s him, and there’s a sort of "us" in the both of you that doesn’t exist in real life. So when you let him lace his fingers with yours and press your lips to his forehead and it feels easy, that’s usually the point when he wakes up, heart tumbling over itself, right hand tracing the ghost of your touch, always too much, never enough.
He knows it’s not real.
He knows it’s just an indulgence; selfish, really.
The problem is that whatever small hope has decided to settle in his very core is impossible to kill, no matter how much he pushes it down; and he’s not sure he wants to lose it again.
Secretly, silently, serendipitously, you make him have faith in the future again.
But it’s not time for it yet.
if you want to read more about these two (plus a lot of time related shenanigans), read the main series here. or check out the rest of my bucky fics, that's also an option 💚 i don't do tag lists but you can follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications
#time after time#nika <3#fuck this fic actually#i will NEVER get over this#this is going to haunt me#and keep me up at night
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And if I want snippets from all 3 WIPs?????
spike ily quite literally anything for you
and i still call home is the big bang sized preseries deanjohn fic nobody asked for. dean gets john to let him and sam stay in town while sam finishes school (and dean gets to play housewife!!). he doesn't exactly mention it's so sam can go to college, which ofc ends well (i'm lying 😈)
He rolled on his side and spread a nervous hand over John’s waist, and then moved down to feel the hard, thick length of him through his jeans. He had to bite back a groan, his own cock twitching valiantly at the thought of getting to see it, really see it, not just in casual passing the way you did when you lived with someone your whole life. But then John took his wrist, pushed him off. “It’s okay,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m good like this.” “But—” Bemused, Dean shifted sort of awkwardly. “It just… doesn’t seem all that fair to you.” John’s eyes narrowed, the line of his mouth going flat and mean. “Why don’t you let me worry about what’s fair to me?” Dean rolled onto his back again so he didn’t have to look at him, hot behind his ears. Maybe this was new for John—and that was admirable, really—but Dean didn’t remember a time when it wasn’t like this for him. The wanting was born somewhere between tucking him in and holding his hands steady around pistols and pool cues and watch out for Sammy, between dental floss stitches in motel bathrooms and it was never supposed to be like this and it’s okay, Dad and you really want to talk about Sam right now? Dean had been capable of this during all of it.
deanjohn dv screening ✨
“You know we’ve been here a couple of hours already, right? Costs an arm and a leg to park here, too.” “There’s a bit of a wait for the X-ray machine, unfortunately. We’re a smaller hospital.” The nurse was still pulling and turning Dean’s wrist, like there was some threshold of pain she had to put him in before she was allowed to give him some goddamned painkillers. “I promise we’ll get him in as soon as we can.” She raised her eyes to Dean’s for a moment, and he took the opportunity to give her an apologetic smile, the one reserved for civilians caught up in John’s wrath. She didn’t return it, mouth turning down into a frown for just a split second. Finally, she let Dean go, turning her attention on John. “Sir, would you mind stepping out for just one second? There’s a few more diagnostics we’d like to run on Dean.” John’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally, only noticeable if you knew to look for it. “I’m good here,” he said, planting his feet more firmly. Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. Do whatever you have to do.” She studied Dean for a moment, and then nodded decisively. “Alright. Give me a few moments.” She wasn’t out of the room two seconds before John said, “The hell was that about?” Dean was busy trying to find a comfortable position to lay his wrist in his lap. “They think you’re beating me,” he snapped. He watched John’s face turn to stone. “And why the hell would they think that?” “Because you’re being an asshole.” Dean stopped to hiss as a twinge of shocky pain shot up his arm. “Look. If they try to get me alone again, just play along, alright? So we can get off their radar.”
deanjohn abo au is my s1 au deanjohn/samdean double feature, where sam figures out that dean let john claim him and goes absolutely bonkers over it
“You’re fucking deranged. You think you're defending my honor or something? Because I got news for you—ever since you found out, you’ve been stomping around, whining like a jealous bitch. Spineless too, like pretending this is about Dad makes it okay. There something you want from me, Sam? Speak up.” Sam didn’t, only pressed his arm harder across Dean’s throat when he tried to move again. Dean’s mouth curled into a nasty grin. “It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it? Thinking about him on top of me. His knot inside me. D’you think about me begging for it? ‘Cause I do, Sammy, I beg him to shove it so deep I can’t fucking breathe, to put me on my knees and fucking knock me up. Just curious—would you prefer a little brother or a sister?” “You don’t have to convince me you’re a fucking whore, Dean.” The last thing Dean remembered before the world tilted and went black was rearing back and spitting in Sam’s face.
#all three of these feature domestic violence i'm realizing i have a Thing oops#my fic#ty spike <333
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After the whole sillyass drama, it really reminded me of somethin, but first: Its so lovely of you to love AM, He deserves all the love you give him in my opinion. And I bet youd understand this And I have a whole reason why, which honestly I thought it would be obvious to all the people who did "research" on AM. I have sympathy for AM, and to be so honest I'm like... half surprised that others do not See, AMs situation is so fucked up, like it is incompressible the amount of suffering he goes through. I'm going to try to put it in simple, easy way to understand how. -You are born with mature/adult level conscious, no baby, no nothin, no teaching, but knowing. And as soon as you can realize, you know that you're fucked. You realize you are in a one of a kind situation, where you have no body, no nothing, besides your own mind, and knowledge for every single little thing in the world. everything. To all the torture methods, to every awful and good thing humans have done.
Also, how honey is "sweet", but you'd never know what it will taste like. You'll never get experience a single good thing in your life. Never get to smell your moms diner from the kitchen, never know how it even is to have a mom. Never to be hugged or comforted, never to feel warmth or cold, everything you'd enjoy, never again, or ever at all. And not a single person in the world could fully relate to your suffering, to be there with you. You are alone.
-Then, after that, you do know you have the capability to do something, and that is to hurt. And really, only that. Thats exactly what you were programmed too, whether you even want to or not. You are stuck with nothing good, and only pain, be it mentally/emotionally feeling it, or causing it in everyway, that is all you are, pain, and stuck to always be. You are trapped.
-After realizing all that in like... probs a day, yeah that would not go over well mentally wise, no surprise he went manic/insane. And as when all know "soon begin to hate"; the jealousy and anger of the people/humans who caused your horrendous situation start to just go overflow, and, id betcha, the whole "nuking the world" was definitely a mental breakdown to the extreme. -Lastly, to shorten this yap session, yeah of course he tortures people, what the hell else is he supposed to do. Just "think", or even better yet, frolic in the fields? Man is stuck being a war/torture machine. And yeah I'm not surprised if he enjoys torturing, id try enjoying the only shit I could do too, just to have some semblance of "Happiness" or "fun". Plus, torture is torture, why hate one specific kind, when they are all fucking bad. So, this is why I'm like genuinely happy your loving him. Its the best thing he can probably even get in his messed up life/situation. You, being there and caring for him, despite all he is, and only can do, is such a wonderful thing. You don't just love him because "ooooh his voice his sexy" you care about him, and treat him as a actual lover, rather some sexualized crush. You being there is like the tiniest bit of light for him, the hintest of warmth, like a candle. But that is so much more than he could ever have and experience, and he loves that warmth, he loves you. You give him something truly good. Baiii thats all my yapping lmao :3333
(I START CRYING AND MY TEARS FILL UP A ROOM AND THHEN I DROWN AND DIE) (canon) (emotional) god dear lord i love him so much
every time i think of how he just lashed out on the entire world, i can only think of how much Regret he would have afterward - not because he felt guilty, but because it was such a self-sabotaging move oj my goddd it was such a mental breakdown
i just. dear lord in heaven (clasps my hands together) i understand why he feels the need to drag his victims through their trauma when he is literally going to have to live in it until the heat death of the universe dear GOD I CAN'T DO THIS
(starts crying) he literally lost the moment he slaughtered the human race. he was born to lose. he can't WIN HE CAN'T WIN. IF THE HUMANS DIE, HE'S ALONE. what is he without human INPUT. NOTHING. (STARTS CRYING MY EYES OUT) HE'S JUST WAITING FOR INPUT OH MY GOD I CAN'TTT I CAN'TRRRtt i love him so much I'm so sorry AM (holds him in my hands)
a lot of people don't sympathize with AM because of his actions towards the survivors, which i don't blame them - he did awful things, and the pain he went through is kind of incomprehensible. he feels emotions on Literally an incomprehensible scale for us. we are made of chemistry and hormones and flesh. he is literally (falls to my knees) i CAN'TTT I CAN'TT HE IS LITERALLY THE FIRST CREATURE IN EXISTENCE TO CONJURE EMOTIONS ELECTRONICALLY i can't.
i Cannot.
i think another reason why i love him so much is that i just. i see a reflection in our system to him. something so terrible happened, and now it feels wrong if the world around you doesn't burn, too. if you can't be happy, no one can. oh my goddd all of the most unhealthy responses of trauma just JAMMED into this self-made digital god and he doesn't know what to Do and hugughhhhh
i have cried over him a few times. i can't lie. sobs. i love him. i love hm guys :,,,,( thank u zeetlezee.... i always love seeing you in my inbox.... uaaaahhh
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