Days at Home | Peeta Mellark

Peeta Mellark Masterlist

Genre: Fluff

Summary: A simple life has never felt so sweet.

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing(s): Peeta Mellark x Fem!Wife!Reader

Warning(s): Children (some ppl don’t like them), food, non-sexual nudity

Note(s):

Can be read as AU or not

Established relationship

Peeta and reader have children

Reader is able to have children

Children call reader “Mom”

|PICTURES ARE NOT MINE|

———————————————

You blink, your brain foggy as you try to figure out your surroundings. But you're half asleep so it takes a couple of moments.

All you can see is darkness, then you pick up on the warmth beneath you. Immediately you know it’s Peeta. His chest rises and falls as he sleeps peacefully, his heartbeat steady and soothing, and his arm curled around you protectively, making sure to keep you close to him.

Peeta is always warm. It also doesn't hurt that it's fall. You snuggle up into him, your face going into his neck. Everything about him makes you feel at home.

Even though you try to fall back asleep you know it won’t happen. You savor the last few moments before you’ll push yourself out of bed.

But when you try to get up, Peeta’s arms tighten.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice is laced with sleep and you know he’s only half awake.

“I’m going to get a shower.” You answer quietly

“What?” He uses his other hand to rub his eyes.

“I’m going to get a shower.” You repeat

Peeta looks over at the curtains so that he can glance outside, “The sun isn’t up yet. We can sleep for a couple more hours.”

You shake your head, “I tried but I’m already awake. Go back to bed, honey.”

Peeta protests, “Can’t sleep without you.”

“You sure? It’s pretty early.” You say

Peeta’s nod is barely noticeable in the dark, “Maybe the shower will wake me up.”

With a kiss to your forehead you hear the bed creak, Peeta’s loud footsteps, and then the overhead light is turned on.

You flinch from the sudden brightness and hear Peeta chuckle, “Sorry, baby.” He sounds amused.

The sound of his heavy footsteps can be heard while you rub your eyes.

You feel the familiar roughness of Peeta’s hand tilt your head up so he can give you a loving kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll go start the shower.” He says before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom.

You use the little time alone to pick out a pair of jeans and a sweater you like, you lay it out next to the outfit that Peeta chose for himself the night before. You laugh quietly at seeing the simple white button up with tan pants, he barely gets cold in fall.

“Better hurry unless we want to waste all of the hot water, sweetheart.” Peeta teases from the bathroom door.

-------------------

You and Peeta have been together for a little over ten years, so it’s only natural for the two of you to move in such a way that is familiar and routinely.

Peeta always lets you step into the shower first, he lets you soak under the warm water before it’s his turn. Then, he’ll pull you into his chest for a sweet hug, just letting the two of you bask into the warmth of each other. He’s constantly giving you kisses, on your shoulder, your neck, your face, or your face.

One time, you were running late for an event and had the misfortune of a quick shower. The usual intimacy the two of you shared was skipped over leaving the both of you feeling a little more uneasy.

In fact, it seemed to be the only thing driving Peeta’s mind as he would make little comments about his day not starting off right whenever given the chance.

It didn’t matter that you and Peeta were exhausted by the end of the day. The bath was still ran, and the two of you relaxed in there to make up for what you lost in the morning, even though both of you were on the verge of sleep.

Back in the present, Peeta’s hands rubbed up and down your back, making you shiver.

Your shower routine was done before you could savor it enough and Peeta was wrapping the soft towel around your body, effectively warming you up.

“We have a few hours until the kids are up, what’s on your mind?” Peeta asks, rubbing your arms for extra warmth.

“Food.” You answer

Peeta laugh echos in your bathroom and your eyes catch his grin through the mirror.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

———————————

Peeta is an expert in the kitchen.

You’re not bad, but it’s obvious which one of you is better. You can’t complain really, anything Peeta makes you love, maybe it’s because he’s grew up as a baker, maybe it’s because he puts his love into everything he does, or maybe it’s just because you adore him.

You can’t say that it was a quiet morning, with constant chatter between you two, laughs, and kisses, it wasn’t at all quiet.

While your breakfast is in the pan, Peeta puts on a record with music that had played at your wedding, he sways with you, grinning at each other even though you're moving too slow for the upbeat song.

“The little ones will be up soon.” You comment, seeing the time on the clock.

Peeta’s arms wrap themselves around your waist, his head on your shoulder, “Good, don’t want to have to reheat the food for them.”

It was the famous breakfast of fluffy chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, bacon, bread, and jam that you made from your fruit garden out back, and of course the bowls of fruit that you had picked freshly this morning.

“We should go wake them up then.” You said

You felt Peeta’s nod as he pulled you up the stairs.

—————————

Your eldest, was sleeping peacefully. You almost felt bad waking him up.

You moved to open the curtains letting natural light filter into his bedroom. You saw him stir at the sudden light.

“Hey bud, it’s time to wake up.” Peeta whispered, gently shaking him.

Your seven year old clutched his deer stuffed animal closer to his body.

You walked over, and sat on the edge so you could shake him.

“Rise and shine, honey.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Slowly but surely, his eyes slowly opened.

“Dad?” He noticed you next, “Mom….is it time to get up already.” He mumbled

Peeta chuckled softly, “Yeah bud, we’ve got the whole day ahead.”

Your son only yawns in response.

“We made breakfast.” You offer, and your son pauses.

“What kind of breakfast?” He asks

“Pancakes, bacon, bread, jam, the whole feast.” Peeta answers

“Okay.” He pushes back the covers and stretches once he stands.

He gives Peeta a hug and a kiss first, then you bend down so he can give you one too.

“Let’s go wake up your sister.” You say, following your son out of his bedroom door with Peeta close behind you.

Your seven year old shuffles with his stuffed animal still in his arms. Your daughter's room isn’t far so it doesn’t take long before you’re standing outside her bedroom door.

Your son does a short courtesy knock before he opens up the door.

Like your eldests room, the curtains are drawn and the room is dark. Your son immediately goes to his sister's side while you make your way over to the curtains.

Like your son, your daughter scrunches her face when the light pours in. You laugh quietly at how similar they look.

Your son whispers his sister's name and shakes her a little roughly.

“Be a little gentler, bud.” Peeta advises

The boy listens and shakes her again.

Your daughter lets out a little whine at being woken up.

“It’s time to get up, there’s breakfast downstairs.” Your son says

Your daughter tears up a bit at the idea of getting up.

“Good morning, honey.” You say, coming up beside your son, and kneeling down.

Peeta sits on the edge of the bed and gives your daughter a kiss on the forehead. You move some of the hair out of her face.

“Don’t wanna get up.” Your four year old cries.

“But how else are you gonna eat pancakes?” You ask

She looks at you in thought, obviously debating her options.

Finally, she looks over at Peeta and raises her arms up, “Daddy!”

Peeta chuckles and lifts her up into his arms.

“Let's go get your little brother up.” Peeta says softly to the two of them.

This time Peeta is the first out of the room with your daughter in his arms, then your son, and with you following.

When you were just outside of your youngests room, you saw your daughter wiggle in Peeta’s arms. An obvious sign that she wanted down.

Your eldest once again gave a little knock on the bedroom door, and you even heard a happy giggle on the other side of the door.

“Come on, open it!” Your daughter urged her brother impatiently

“I am!” He responded

Peeta wrapped his arm around your waist and chuckled while you both watched them enter your youngests room.

Your one year old son was standing up in his crib with a happy smile on his face.

Your son and daughter ran over and said a chorus of good mornings.

You walked over and pulled your youngest out of his crib. Once you placed him on the ground he was given a couple hugs and kisses from his older siblings.

“Let’s go downstairs and eat bekfest!” Your daughter said, not quite pronouncing breakfast correctly.

“Hold my hand.” Your eldest offered his hand to his brother but the younger just walked a little past him.

“Doesn’t seem like he wants to hold your hand right now, but you can hold mine!” You grinned teasingly.

“I get to hold your hand all the time.” Your son countered

“I’ll hold your hand.” Peeta offered

“Who’s gonna hold my hand?” Your daughter cried

Peeta stooped down and picked her up with a little spin, causing her to giggle.

“I’ll hold you in one arm, and your mom’s hand in the other.” Peeta tickled her

“Sounds good to me.” You said walking over to the two blondes.

“Let us go down first mom and dad.” Your eldest said, finally getting your youngests to hold his hand.

“After you, bud.” Peeta encouraged

———————————

Breakfast was a blur of catering and attempted food fights. It only stopped when your seven year old declared he was going to get dressed and your daughter followed after him claiming that she wanted to get dressed too.

“I’d say that was a successful breakfast.” Peeta commented while eating a few pieces of fruit.

“I’m just glad they didn’t ask for cereal instead.” You laughed, taking the dirty dishes over to the sink. Since Peeta did most of the cooking you agreed to do most of the dishes.

“Mom!” Your daughter's voice cried

You were at the bottom of the stairs in a second, "What is it?”

“I can’t get this shirt on!” Her tiny lips wobbled from the top of the stairs.

“Okay, I can help, you want my help?” Your shoulders relaxed

Your daughter nodded.

“Everything okay?” Peeta asked, holding your youngest in his arms.

“Wardrobe malfunction.” You answered

Peeta nodded and went back into the kitchen.

“I don’t even like this shirt.” Your daughter commented

“You wanna pick out another one?” You asked

Your daughter nodded eagerly.

———————

You’d admit that you weren’t the most ecstatic at the idea of building a sandbox, the idea of having to clean all the sand off of them still gives you chills. However, it keeps them entertained and happy so you decide it’s worth it.

You and your husband laid on a picnic blanket, Peeta’s back against a tree and you in his arms. It had been decided that since you were already planning on spending most of the day outside, you might as well eat lunch outside.

Now, the picnic basket that’s used more than you would’ve ever imagined is closed, all its contents drained except for a few extra bottles of water.

With fall your flowers and trees were going dormant for the winter and you were already brainstorming flowers to plant in the spring.

“I’m thinking of Marigolds.” You comment

“Those are pretty.” Peeta says while stroking your hair.

“Do you think the kids will want to plant some?” You ask

Peeta shrugs, “I think they will, but you can ask.”

You let your gaze shift to the horizon and notice the sun going down.

“Should we bring them inside for dinner?” You ask quietly

“No. Let’s watch the sunset first.” He kisses your cheek

——————————

To no one's surprise your children were quite hungry. They ate so quickly you were worried they were going to choke.

After they were done they were already exhausted which made it quite the challenge to get them to take their baths.

Your daughter nearly fell asleep while you helped her change into her pajamas.

Then, without a single kiss she was out like a light.

Your sons waited patiently for their kisses though you could see your youngest fighting sleep. But, he was out like his sister after he got a goodnight kiss from you and Peeta.

Your eldest was the last to be tucked in, enjoying his hugs and kisses while the three of you chatted a little bit about how the day went.

One thing is for sure, they will be well rested by tomorrow.

As soon as you quietly closed the door to your eldests room, Peeta pulled you into a hug.

He purposely swayed the both of you a little, making you want to fall asleep in his arms. You had done your own share of running around today.

He pulled back with a kiss on your cheek but didn't remove his arms.

"I love you." He said quietly

"I love you too." You replied genuinely.

"Thank you." Peeta said, confusing you a little bit.

"For what?"

"For giving me a better life than I could've dreamed of, for allowing me to wake up next to you everyday, for loving me."

You kissed his cheek, "I couldn't not love you. I can't imagine another person who could make me as happy as you do, or make me feel as loved as you do." 

Peeta's smile was so big and full of emotion that it made your heart soar, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. No matter how short or long, I want to spend it with you."

"Well that's good because I also want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Peeta chuckled, "It's cute you think I'd ever let you go." He teased

"Just shut up and kiss me."

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

In Bed Together ~ Triple S Headcanons SFW

sonic x fem!reader, shadow x fem!reader, silver x fem!reader

headcanons

request: yes/no: this was a sort of a request; shadow was picked for a poll I did yet I decided to do the Triple S boys bc ppl love them

A/n: Hope you guys enjoy this~!

<=========>

Sonic

—Bedtime are some of the only moments that you see Sonic slow down

—But honestly it was no surprise to you since he probably burns so much energy in one day

—Running around and stopping Eggman being one of them

—Sonic would come home with you after a long day, having dinner with you and having a relaxing evening

—Sonic is very cuddly in bed with you

—Laying in your lap, hugging your waist as ran your hands carefully through his fur and quills

—Soon you’ll fall asleep spooning each. Sonic is the big spoon for obvious reasons

— “Sweet Dreams, N/n.”

<===>

Shadow

—you are usually in bed before Shadow comes home, you rarely see him unless he taken days for himself to spend with you

—he searches for you when he comes home, you are usually on the couch sleeping from waiting for him or already in bed sleeping. Sometimes he does catch you with the tv on still awake

—he sits beside you. “You shouldn’t wait for me, dear.” That’s all he said before he picks you up into his arms and taking to you to your shared bedroom

—if you are in bed asleep when he comes home, he’d smile at you peacefully sleeping, moving some loose strands of hair out of your face then gets ready to join you

— “Goodnight, Y/n…”

<===>

Silver

—silver is very shy boi even though you and him have been dating for a year now. Sleeping in the same bed as you still makes him flustered

—he likes being face to face with you, having late night chats like that are his favorite thing

—a few kisses here and there, mostly from you

—like Sonic, Silver is also very cuddly with you though not just in bed when it’s just you two hanging out at home. He’s likes to hold you or just be close to you

—he spoons you, cuddling into your shoulder.

— “Night, Y/n…”

Take the Edge Off | Part 10 | Terrors

Summary: Late at night, Miguel confesses something that haunts him.

A/N: well, it’s time for me to post my bi-monthly part since I’ve been slacking sm lately. No good excuse, I’m not even sure if ppl read this anymore but oh well, enjoy

Warnings: smut, oral f-receiving

Word count: 8.4k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You were sleeping peacefully when the sound of quick rustling startled you awake.

Something was thrashing beside you in bed, quick and panicked. You blinked your eyes open, your sleep-addled mind trying to process what was happening. You felt disoriented as you tried remembering where you were. The bed and sheets were most definitely not your own, yet they were somehow familiar.

Miguel. This was Miguel's bed.

Since your talk with him about being more than just fuck buddies, Miguel had actually kept his word. He communicated more about where he was, what he was doing, how late he'd be out. There were even a few nights like tonight where he'd let you stay with him in his room.

It was Miguel who was causing the rustling that now pulled you from your sleep. He was muttering something unintelligible as his legs kicked at the sheets. You rolled over to face him right as his form shot up from the bed. Through the darkness, you could hear his ragged breathing as he gasped for air, and you could vaguely see his silhouette hunched forward next to you.

Instantly, you felt awake and alert. Pushing yourself up from your pillow, you were immediately at his side. "What's wrong?" You asked, placing a worried hand on his shoulder. Under your palm, you felt the sweat that slicked his clammy skin.

Miguel flinched hard from your touch and jerked his arm away from your hand, still breathing in sharp, uneven gasps. Instead of replying, he turned his body away from you, ripping the covers off himself and moving to sit at the edge of the bed as he fought to steady his breathing.

You'd been in his position enough times to know exactly what was wrong. Nightmares had plagued you endlessly since the first time you lost someone you tried to save, and they didn't get easier with time.

"Lyla, turn the lights to 20%," you said softly. Immediately, a faint glow illuminated the room, and you could see Miguel's trembling body in the faint light. He was rocking back and forth slightly as whatever vision he’d had faded from his mind, and he didn't say anything as his heaving chest began to grow steady again.

You scooted closer to him but didn't touch him. You knew all too well that sometimes you needed a moment to understand that the terror in your chest was unsubstantiated, and so you gave him a second to deescalate before whispering, "Are you okay?"

He ran his hands over his face once before muttering, "Fine." He did not sound fine at all, but you weren't going to point that out to him. Instead, you carefully placed your hand on his shoulder again. He didn't flinch this time, so you slowly let it wander across his bare chest, wrapped your arm around him, and pulled his back against your body.

He still didn't say anything, but he lifted a hand to grab your arm and held it for a moment as a comforting gesture. "What was it?" You asked quietly, hoping that he'd open up to you. Under your palm, his heart was still racing, though he seemed to be calmer than before. He held onto you for a moment before letting his hand fall away, and he stood up from the bed.

"It was nothing," he muttered. "Go back to sleep."

You watched as he stalked over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Clad in only a pair of black briefs, his whole body was shining with perspiration in the dim light. He was clearly rattled by whatever night terror had taken over his sleep, but you knew he wasn't going to open up so easily.

Rather than listen to his order to go back to sleep, you waited for him to return. His face looked haunted and drained of color when he came back and slipped under the covers again. You slid next to him, snaking an arm across his torso and pulling yourself close to him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. Miguel tensed at your touch, but he didn't try pushing you away.

You settled in silence for a while. Tilting your head up to look at him, you saw he was staring absently at the ceiling above, not even trying to fall back to sleep again. You understood that, too—the fear of sleeping in case the same nightmare took over again. You'd lost hours of sleep that way, refusing to close your eyes to keep away the monsters that plagued your dreams.

You quickly realized that Miguel wasn't going to talk unless you did. "I have them too, you know," you whispered, breaking the silence around you. His face didn't change, and after a quiet moment, he replied, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Talking about it helps," you offered. "Even if it doesn't make them go away." You watched his face carefully for a reaction, hoping he'd open up. Still, his faraway gaze never shifted, and he gave a barely-perceptible shake of his head.

Sighing, you looked back down at his chest, littered with faint scars from his time as Spider-Man. You wondered about the stories of how he got them. No doubt it had taken years to accumulate them all, each one a tiny reminder of the amount of traumatic events he had lived through. You had your own reminders too, and not just the scars on your body.

"Mine are usually memories of people I couldn't save," you admitted quietly. "Sometimes, it plays out exactly as it happened, sometimes it's a bit different. I used to tell them to my best friend, and it helped."

Your throat tightened as you thought of your friend. She was the only one who had known about your secret life. She had been the one to confide in, the one who listened. Late at night, when you couldn't stop shaking from the nightmares, she would answer your calls, no matter how late it was or how early she had to get up the next day. She had done so much for you.

And in the end, you had failed her.

"Then, I couldn't save her either," you continued quietly, a slight warble in your voice, "and the nightmares got...so much worse."

You felt Miguel's head shift to look down at your face. It was now your turn to avoid his gaze. Guilt and shame washed over you as you replayed that terrible day, the day you lost the most important person in the world.

There was a beat of silence, and Miguel's hand slid under the fabric of your shirt and began slowly rubbing your back across your skin in a comforting gesture—ironic given that he was the one still shaking off the effects of his nightmare.

"My worst ones are about her," you finally managed to say, still avoiding his gaze. "It's usually her on the ground, dead—" you took a shaky breath, "—but then she looks at me and asks why I didn't save her."

Over and over again, she would say it, and even now, you could see the scene clearly. Her body, sprawled and broken, her dead eyes glazed over lifelessly while her bloody lips moved and ask, Why didn't you save me? Why didn't you save me?

A shiver ran through you at the memory.

"I just had that one last weekend," you confessed softly.

There was a pause, and you could practically hear Miguel putting together the fact that you had been with him then, in that very bed beside him. You had woken up shaking and nauseous, but since he had still been sleeping, you had let him be while you stayed up for hours without closing your eyes again.

Miguel finally broke his silence. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked. You gave a weak shrug. "Same reason you're not telling me yours," you countered. "It's not easy to talk about."

He didn't reply, but he did pull you closer to him so that you were lying halfway on his body, one of your bare legs draped over his.

Neither of you said anything for a long while.

You reflected on what you had said to him. That was the first time you'd ever told anyone about that particular nightmare. What you had said before was true—it's not easy talking about the things that scared you the most. Even just recalling it out loud made you want to curl up in a ball and hide under the bed, but now, you couldn't deny that you felt lighter, less burdened, less alone.

"It was you."

Miguel's voice was barely above a whisper when he finally interrupted the silence. You raised your head to look at his face again.

"Me?" You repeated quietly.

"You—something was coming for you. I don't know what it was, but I knew it was going to kill you."

His fingers curled into your back like whatever phantom had plagued his dreams was coming for you again. You were silent, barely daring to breathe. You were afraid that if you so much as blinked, he'd clam up again and refuse to tell you what was lingering from his dream.

"I tried running to you," he continued slowly, "but every step, I pushed you further towards whatever...thing was coming for you. And when it got to you..."

He didn't have to finish his sentence. You could see from the shadow that passed over his face that whatever he had seen in his dream hadn't been pretty. He just sighed and stroked your skin slowly.

"Have you ever had that one before?" You asked softly.

He shook his head faintly, and you held him a little tighter. The first time having a particular nightmare was always the worst, the hardest to convince yourself it wasn't real. It was no wonder he shook you off before. In his confusion, he probably still thought you were dead.

"It's over now," you told him quietly. "I'm alright."

Miguel said nothing, his eyes still fixed determinedly on the ceiling. His absent gaze didn't waver for the few heartbeats of silence that followed your words, and you were sure he was replaying the vision of whatever darkness had consumed you in his sleep.

Lifting your head up from his chest, you tried to capture his gaze with your own, but he refused to look at you, almost as if he was afraid that your eyes would be as lifeless as he had seen in his dream.

You cupped his cheek with one hand and gently pulled his face to look at you. He didn't resist, and his eyes finally blinked and met yours.

"It's over now," you repeated softly, "and I'm right here."

Miguel took a moment to study your face, like he was trying to memorize every line and curve that made up your appearance. You didn't move, didn't flinch from his gaze, letting him see for himself the life that still flowed inside you.

After a few seconds, you lowered your lips onto his to let him feel the warmth of your mouth, the heat and desire you had for him. Miguel responded by subtly pulling your body tighter to his as he moved his lips against yours.

Breaking away from you gently, there was the faintest softening of his face. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured quietly.

You felt your face glow at his words. You understood that he meant more than just you being there with him at the moment. He was glad you were alive, glad you were with him through all the shit you both had to deal with.

"Me too," you replied before placing another quick kiss to his lips again.

Settling back down at his side, you casually traced your fingers over his chest. So many reminders, so many terrors. You thought about all the sleepless nights you'd experienced since becoming Spider-Woman, all the strange visions that came to you in your dreams.

"I once had a nightmare that I had to shoot webs out of my ass," you told him in an attempt to lighten the mood.

There was a pause before Miguel huffed out a single, soft breath. "You too?" He replied. Your eyebrows shot up. "You too?" you repeated in surprise, a smile pulling you out of the somber mood. "It must be a canon event for us Spiders."

Miguel hummed and looked up again, and even though there was still that lingering appearance of melancholy, his face seemed more relaxed now. Your ear was pressed against his chest, and you listened to his steady heartbeat. His hand still rubbed your back slowly, the feeling apparently grounding him back to reality.

"You should go back to sleep," he told you. You shook your head. "I'm not tired," you replied. "Are you?"

"Even if I was, I couldn't fall asleep," he said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above. You nodded. "I get it."

Silence returned.

Your fingers continued stroking his stomach slowly as you replayed his words, and your chest felt warm by what Miguel revealed to you.

He was scared of losing you. The fear of it made stole his breath away and caused his body to quiver. His face had looked haunted as he recovered from his night terror. It was such an intense and visceral reaction to the idea of you dying.

Soaking up his warmth against you, you knew you felt the same way—the same fear, the same helplessness at the thought of losing him. You hadn't even realized how deeply you had fallen for him, hadn't realized how important he was to you until recently. It consumed you so completely that the idea of him not being here with you made stomach tighten nauseously.

Turning your head, you brushed a kiss to his chest. Just a simple touch, just to remind both you and him that he was there now. You felt him shift to look down at you, and you were somewhat surprised when he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered for a moment before he breathed a sigh against your skin.

Facing up at him, you met his gaze in the dim light. His eyes took in your appearance, and you took in his. An understanding passed between you, one that acknowledged what you were feeling, the fear and anxiety as a result of your feelings for each other. One look that told each other everything you were too afraid to say.

Your lips met his in a soft kiss—slow, gentle, comforting. You broke apart for a mere second before moving into another one, and then another, until he was leaning forward and pulling you in harder against his mouth. Your hand rubbed against his chest more intentionally while his tongue teased at your lips, and you parted to let him taste your mouth with a small moan.

Your heart began pounding in your chest. Each movement he made was slow and sensual, and he took each touch to remind himself that you were alive. His hand roamed up your back to feel your warm skin, and your loud sigh was proof of the breath in your lungs.

Your hand wandered lower and lower down his abdomen, the hard muscles flexing beneath your touch. You reached the band of his briefs before you stopped. Any other night, you would've jumped on him without hesitation, but you found yourself pausing and wondering if making a move for sex was wise.

Pulling away from his lips, you whispered, "Would this make you feel better?" You didn't need to clarify what you meant.

Miguel's eyes were half-lidded as he stared at your face. A faint smile pulled at his lips, the first crack in his wall of gloom, and he raised a hand to brush his fingers across your cheek. "It definitely wouldn't hurt to see," he breathed in reply.

A smirk pulled at your lips. "It could hurt if you want it to," you mused. "Just a little bit." His lips curved up a little more at your implication. Before he could reply, your hand pressed down on his cock over the materials of his briefs.

Miguel bit back a groan. You rubbed your hand over him with tantalizing slowness, watching his face as he closed his eyes and pressed his head back. Kissing his exposed neck, you reveled in his pleasure and pushed down harder against him.

"It doesn't have to hurt, though," you continued quietly in his ear. "It can be soft and gentle." You kissed him again just under his jawline. Under your palm, you could feel him growing hard. You smiled at how your words and some simple touches made him crave you.

"Or it can be hard and rough," you continued, your hand pushing down against him harshly, and you nipped at his ear. Miguel sucked in a sharp breath and pushed his hips upwards into your hand. He groaned your name softly, and just the sound of it made your core grow hot.

You slipped your hand under the black material that strained with his growing bulge. Miguel's breath stuttered as you wrapped your fingers around his hardening cock. "We can do it however you want," you finished with a smug grin.

You could feel his jaw clench under your lips. "Fuck," he breathed softly. You let the single word fuel your movements. You squeezed tightly as you slowly pumped your hands up and down his length. Another soft groan sounded in his throat, and he turned his head to kiss you again.

Still stroking him steadily, you broke away from his lips to ask, "So, how do you want it? Gentle or rough?"

His breath was hot against your mouth before he murmured, "Why choose when we can do both?"

A wicked smile grew on your face, and in a heartbeat, your lips were crashing down on his, devouring and exploring every inch of him. Your hand followed after your mouth's eagerness, stroking him with a stronger need.

Miguel pushed his hips up off the bed in encouragement, and in the same motion, he tugged off his briefs to free himself from the constricting fabric. Now, you could see his full length, so large and stiff that it made you ache.

Your breath grew heavy as your hands continued smoothly sliding up and down his cock. Turning your head, you nuzzled your face beneath his jaw and sucked at the skin of his neck. Miguel seemed utterly paralyzed, and his deep moan tickled your lips.

"Relax," you purred. "I'm gonna take care of you."

Miguel's hand moved under your shirt—his shirt, actually—and up your back. His callouses felt rough against your skin, and they wandered across your body and pulled you closer to him. You nipped gently at his throat, and Miguel's fingers dug into your back.

"Does that feel good?" You asked smugly, already knowing the answer. He nodded in response, his eyes closed tightly as his chest heaved uneven breaths.

"Talk to me," you implored in a smug voice, never slowing your hand's pace. "Does it feel good?"

Miguel was trying his best to answer you, and through his stuttering breath, he managed to sigh, "Yes. God, yes."

You loved the desperate edge in his voice. It sent a thrill running up your body. You lowered your face from his neck to his chest and placed long, wet kisses all over him. A growl sounded in his back of his throat. When you glanced up at his face through your lashes, his eyes were closed, and his head was straining against his pillow as his muscles flexed in pleasure.

"I love hearing you," you murmured against his skin, never ceasing for a moment the stroking movements of your hand. "It makes me so wet, every sound you make."

Hearing your words, Miguel actually moaned, and he pushed his hips up into your hand. The sound went straight to your core. Your blood was growing hot, and the deep throbbing between your legs was almost unbearable. You squeezed your thighs together to try and gain some relief, and you let out a quiet moan of your own.

Miguel must've heard you because something in him snapped. His eyes fluttered open, and he pushed himself up to capture your lips. Your hand increased its pace as Miguel explored your mouth with desperation.

He broke away from you for a second and gasped softly, "I need to feel you."

You smirked and lifted yourself up off his body. His impatient hands began tugging at your shirt, and you had to move your hand away from his cock to allow him to rip it off your body. With the shirt gone, you were left in only a pair of underwear.

Miguel was eager to feel you. He rolled his body onto yours and settled between your legs. As he hovered over you, he had one arm planted on the bed to support himself while the other wandered up your body, feeling your bare skin beneath his palm.

Another soft moan escaped from your lips as his rough hand slid over your body, kneading at one of your breasts as his lips latched onto your neck. Your thighs squeezed around his hips reactively when you felt his hardened length nudging against the soaked fabric of your underwear.

Your desperation to feel him inside you was overwhelming. Letting go of Miguel, you started tugging at the band of your underwear. He knew what you were doing, and so his lips broke away from your neck as he hooked his fingers around the top of your underwear. Sitting up off your body, he pulled them down your legs and tossed them aside.

Miguel stayed sitting upright for a moment, drinking in the sight of your bare body before him. Even in the low light, you were able to see how his eyes burned with desire, how they took in every inch of you with longing.

You looked up at him, too. His body towered over yours. The contours around his muscles were exaggerated by the soft light overhead, making him look like a god. His dark hair was mussed, and strands of it had fallen over his face. Between his powerful thighs, the sight of his cock made you ache.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to how good you look," you said softly.

Miguel's eyes flicked up to your face, a small hint of surprise in his expression. You didn't praise him often enough, you realized. So often, he was the one idolizing your body while you were rendered speechless from his touch. Seeing him now with his god-like physique, you realized Miguel deserved to know how much you loved being with him.

Sitting up, you ran a hand up his sculpted body, feeling the muscles underneath his warm skin. He flexed reactively as your fingers skimmed up to his neck, and you pulled him into another slow kiss.

With your other hand, you reached down and stroked his cock. Miguel let out a low moan against your mouth, making you smile. "I don't think I'll ever get used to how good you sound," you whispered, pulling him back down to the bed.

He followed after you eagerly, his body hovering over yours as he continued kissing you ravenously. Despite being on top of you, Miguel was following submissively with your every physical direction. He was propped up on one elbow while his other hand held your thigh. His body was practically trembling in anticipation while your hand continued stroking him slowly, but he remained hovering over you and waiting for your permission to enter you.

You were just as anxious to feel him inside you. Pulling his head down with one hand to kiss you again, you guided his cock to your soaking entrance.

"Now, remind me of how good you feel," you told him quietly.

Miguel didn't need any more prompting. In one smooth movement, he pushed into you. Your head fell back against the bed with a loud moan as his cock stretched you out. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as he felt the wet warmth of your pussy around him.

"Mierda," he breathed against your neck as he began pumping long, smooth strokes into you. You couldn't even speak from the pleasure that overwhelmed your senses. The most that you could do was force yourself to take ragged breaths while Miguel continued rolling his hips into you, in and out, over and over.

He whispered your name as he pushed himself into you over and over again. You whimpered softly. At the sound of it, Miguel's lips came crashing down against yours, and his tongue explored your mouth with a growing desperation.

"More," you whined into his mouth. "I need more."

Miguel groaned. His movements evolved from strong, steady strokes to relentless, harsh thrusts. You cried out as the sound of him pounding into you echoed around the room, his cock sending pleasure pulsing through your body.

Miguel shifted his body above you. He pushed himself up off his elbow and up onto his knees. With his hands, he gripped you by the waist and hoisted your hips effortlessly into his lap, your back now arched with your shoulders still resting on the bed. Holding you firmly in place, he ever-so-obediently began fucking you mercilessly.

The air was snatched from your lungs as he began driving his cock into you with unrelenting desperation. One of your hand reached up and grabbed the edge of the headboard while the other clawed at the sheets.

Whatever amount of control you'd had over Miguel vanished, and any sort of restraint he'd had before snapped. His cock buried deep inside you and pounded against your G-spot mercilessly. Ragged cries tore from your throat as your whole body began trembling.

“Fuck,” you managed to groan, your fingers clenching around the sheets beneath you. Miguel was ravenous. His large cock stretched you out until it nearly hurt, and his fingers threatened to leave bruises on your hips.

“Like that?” He asked smugly, his words breathless as he continued slamming into you. You whined and nodded, your arms shook with the strain of their grip on the bed. Miguel leaned over your body while keeping your hips up on his thighs, one hand supporting him above you. His lips found one of your breast, and as he fucked you, his ran his tongue over your nipple.

Moaning salaciously, your body trembling as he completely overwhelmed your senses. In his throat, Miguel growled in approval of how you responded to him. His cock continued pounding against your G-spot, and he pulled his head up for just a second to watch your face before he bit down on your nipple.

You cried out as pleasure coursed through you, sending you hurdling into your release. You barely registered how you moaned his name as your climax took over your every faculty. Miguel noticed and gave a few more hard thrusts into you, drawing gasping cries from you.

You were seeing stars as you lost yourself in your bliss. Your body felt electric as Miguel slowed to a stop and pulled away from you, watching you slumped on the bed, unraveling underneath him.

"You look so beautiful when you cum like that," he panted, slowly moving his body further down the bed. "I can't get enough of it."

You moaned, unable to respond to him otherwise. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest, and you were gulping down deep, uneven breaths. He lowered his face to kiss your neck softly, and you threaded your fingers through his hair. He made you feel like a goddess, and he was your most faithful worshipper.

Your body was still trembling while he placed kisses between your breasts to your stomach. As he moved lower, your eyes fluttered open to look down at him. Through his dark lashes, Miguel was watching your face as his lips trailed lower and lower down your abdomen.

Your body shivered when you realized what he was going to do. "Wait," you gasped quietly, squeezing your legs together around him. Miguel paused right as he was beginning to wrap his arms under your thighs, his gaze restless. He seemed to be exerting all his will to obey your single-word command.

"It's- I'm—," you fumbled for the right words in your unfocused state. Damn him for melting your mind like this, any semblance of rational thoughts shattered by his cock. Taking a steadying breath, you managed to say, "I don't think I can take that right now."

You knew exactly what he could do with his head between your legs, but you were currently still piecing yourself back together, and the thought of him ravaging you with his tongue while you were still coming off of your climax seemed torturous.

Miguel didn't move, but you could see in the dim light how his eyes flashed with need. "I'll be gentle," he promised in a low voice. "I'll go slow. I just want a taste." He shifted, and you noted the restless movement along with the desperate edge in his voice when he added, "Please. Just a taste of you."

Fuck. There was no way you could say no to the sounds of him begging.

In silent reply, you relaxed your legs. Miguel slid his arms under them, his powerful hands gripping your thighs as he pulled them open, baring your soaked cunt before him. His eyes never left yours as he lowered his face down and took a long stroke of his tongue up your pussy.

You couldn't suppress the cry that wrested from your throat. Your whole body felt like it had been set on fire as he licked at you again, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat as he tasted your desire for him. Your eyes squeezed shut, and your legs fought the iron grip of his hands.

Slowly, gently—just as he promised—Miguel explored your pussy with his mouth. His tongue trailed between your folds, avoiding the very top where your swollen clit was still too sensitive for his touch. You sighed at the feeling, the warmth of his tongue sending delightful shivers across your body.

Moving lower, he slid through your wetness until the tip of his tongue teased the outside of your entrance where his cock had been mere minutes ago. Your breath hitched at the feeling, and Miguel took that as a sign to push his tongue in as deep as it could go.

Your back arched off the bed as he pushed into you slowly again and again. You moaned his name as he tasted you so passionately. Miguel's hands pulled your legs open further while he fucked you just like that, his tongue sliding in and out of you at a pace just inside of what you could handle.

"Mmm, Miguel," you whined, one hand gripping at his hair while the other reached for the headboard again.

It felt so good, impossibly good. Everything he did to you made you wonder how he could possibly be real, how he could possibly be with you. Your first time together, you hadn't thought it would ever happen again, let alone evolve into what you had now. What had started as a one-time fuck was now a constant need to be with each other, to hold each other close and never let go.

Your hips began shifting restlessly under his mouth. Your very blood felt as if it were on fire. Already, he had brought you from being overstimulated to craving another release.

Miguel lifted his face from your pussy for a moment. His glistening lips were parted as he panted lightly, and his eyes were glazed over with lust.

"You taste so good," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. "I could eat you out every day if you'd let me." You moaned softly at the thought of it. "I'm not stopping you," you replied breathlessly.

His lips curved up into a smirk before he lowered his head down again to drag his tongue up your cunt, carefully testing your sensitive clit. Your body squirmed under his firm grasp, and you gasped at the hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

Miguel seemed satisfied by your reaction. He took another slow stroke over your sensitivity again, trying to gauge how much you could take now. To answer his unspoken question, you groaned and pressed his head down harder. You felt more than heard his deep chuckle at your wordless instructions, and he obliged you by sealing his lips over your pussy and pressing his tongue against you.

You writhed on the bed, your thighs straining against his hands as he ate you out with greater fervor. Your whines and sighs filled the room, and your grip on the headboard tightened to an almost painful degree.

Miguel sucked, licked, and wholly devoured your cunt. You could feel the pleasure beginning to coil deep inside of you, and he seemed to read it in how your body struggled in his grasp. Falling into a steady pace of strong, even strokes, he moved tirelessly to earn more moans from your lips.

Your fingers gripped his hair tightly, and you glanced down at his face between your legs. His dark eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, completely pussy drunk. In them, you saw his utter surrender to your taste and the complete abandonment of his restraint.

Despite your legs still struggling under his grasp, he released one hand from your thigh, and before you could understand what he was doing, he inserted two fingers into you.

Your hips arched off the bed as a shuddering cry tore through you. His fingers curled inside you, working in tandem with his tongue still swirling around your clit. His pace was unrelenting, desperate, like he needed you to fall apart as much as he needed to breathe. Every nerve was on fire as you felt yourself completely lose yourself in the pleasure of his mouth and fingers.

You might have been screaming, you weren't sure. Every thought and scrap of awareness was washed away by the tidal wave that was your orgasm. Your body felt like it was shattering, and you lost all control of yourself as you lifted your hips off the bed with trembling effort. Miguel stayed securely attached to you, his tongue and fingers working you through it with a final desperation.

"Miguel!" You cried out as you struggled against him, your pleasure an overwhelming force that threatened to tear you apart. He slowed his hands to a gradual stop and raised his head up off of you, his eyes drinking in the sight of you unraveling under him.

"Beautiful," he purred, watching your body as the trembling finally eddied away. "Did that feel good?"

You were still gasping for air, and it took every ounce of your focus to reply, "Yes. Too good. I—I'm gonna need a minute."

His lips curved into a self-satisfied grin, and he placed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I'll take my time," he replied smugly. He placed another kiss a little higher, and then another on your lower stomach, until he was trailing his lips slowly up your body.

You groaned as he moved higher. Your body was thrumming with the aftermath of pleasure, and you were still breathing heavily when his mouth pressed over one of your breasts. You shivered at the touch of him, his warm tongue swirling around your nipple in lazy circles while his hand palmed your other breast with greed.

"You're insatiable," you groaned. You heard him chuckle quietly. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he said against your soft skin. You hummed, unable to keep the smile from growing on your lips. "It's not," you replied, "but I might not be able to walk tomorrow."

Miguel turned his face up to look at you, a smug grin tugging at his lips. "You need me to carry you around the base?" He asked in amusement.

You actually laughed at him. "Mmm, no. I'd hate to hurt that hard-ass reputation of yours," you told him. He hummed thoughtfully, pressing another kiss to your breast. "I think your reputation would be the one at stake," he replied. "After all, what would people think about you being with a hard-ass like me?"

You chuckled, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. "They'd be jealous," you stated. "I mean, half the Society wants to sleep with you, and the other half is lying about not wanting to."

That earned a low laugh from Miguel, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Well," he began slowly, bringing his face up to yours, "I don't want to be with half the Society, or the other half." You smiled up at him, your eyes never leaving his as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Just you," he whispered.

You held his stare and soaked in his presence, the lingering hum of pleasure in your body, the feeling of his heat pressed over you. Your hand slid down from his hair to cup his cheek. If you could stop time and hold onto a moment forever, it would probably be this one.

Gently, you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him. Your taste still lingered there, and after a second, you broke away to whisper, "I was hoping you'd say that."

He chuckled, and before he could respond, you pulled him back into a deep kiss. He parted his lips to slide his tongue against yours. You made a soft noise, and your lips moved against his smoothly, your kisses running together until your breathing grew heavy again.

Miguel, you could tell, was more than eager to be back inside you. His hand palmed your breast hungrily, and his whole body moved with anticipation. You quickly realized, however, that he was still holding out, waiting instead for you to give him permission to continue what you had paused.

You shifted your hips up to him, moaning softly when his cock brushed against your entrance. His breath shuddered, and he looked down at you to read your face. You nodded, answering his silent question before kissing him again.

You moaned into his mouth when he pushed into you once more. He moved slowly, so slowly inside you. Every thrust was long and deep, like he was trying to feel every inch of you. Your breathing was heavy as your fingers dug into the skin of his back.

The pace he set was vastly different than before. His pace was controlled and even, withdrawing all the way to the tip before pushing all the way to the hilt. This wasn't just fucking, you realized—it was love-making. Watching your reactions, waiting for your command, doing everything in his power to please you—Miguel completely encompassed what it meant to be a lover.

He broke away from your lips after a moment to catch his breath. You were both breathing hard, and as he continued moving steadily inside you, his eyes blinked open. They met your own, and he stared down at you with something like reverence in his gaze.

"I'm glad you're here," he gasped softly against your lips.

Your heart skipped a beat as he repeated his words from before. It was one thing hearing it in the quiet calm of lying together, but in the midst of the heat and passion, hearing them again gave them more weight, more substance. Even as he was deep inside you, he was still thinking about how grateful he was for you, that you were with him.

"I'll always be here," you promised quietly.

He let out a soft grunt at your words, his hips driving into with more force. Your eyes rolled back into your head as your whole body moved with each thrust. The rhythmic slapping of his skin against yours filled the air, and you couldn't help the quiet whine that left your throat as he pushed so deeply into you.

Your lips met his again in a desperate kiss. His hips thrust into you harder and faster now. You gasped as he pushed into you with greater need. The feeling of his cock moving deep inside of you was driving you insane, and your desire felt insatiable.

Miguel lowered his head to your neck, his hot breath fanning your skin as he continued passionately driving his cock into you. You felt his teeth graze against you, and a small whimper sounded in your throat. He growled at the sound and nipped gently at your flesh. You gave another small cry at the sensation, your fingers digging into his skin.

"You're so responsive," he murmured without lifting his head. "Every noise you make drives me crazy."

You moaned again for him. "It's because you feel so good," you whispered to him. "God, how do you always feel so fucking good?"

He groaned, thrusting into you over and over again with endless passion. Under his breath, he whispered your name. You could feel his hand sliding up your torso, until at last it found your own hand. His fingers entwined in yours and pinned it to the bed above your head.

You stared up at Miguel when he rested his forehead on yours. His eyes were closed as he fully immersed himself in the pleasure of your cunt. Small grunts sounded in his throat as he moved passionately in you, growing more and more hungry for his release until he couldn't hold back his sounds anymore.

With every thrust, he groaned softly in your ear. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to push deeper. You could feel how the hand that was entwined in yours trembled, and his arm that supported him above you buckled at the elbow.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice taut. "I don't think I can last—"

You didn't let him finish his sentence before you yanked his mouth down to yours again. His moan tickled your lips as your tongue slid against his, and he shifted his body to release your hand. Before you could mourn the loss of that intimate connection, Miguel's hand drifted down your body until his thumb brushed just above where his cock was moving in and out of you.

You gasped as white-hot pleasure shot through you. Your thighs trembled with every circle he made over your clit, in time with each drive of his cock. Digging your fingers into his skin, you held him tightly while you cried out at his perfect touch.

"Oh god, Miguel," you whined, unable to say anything else. His thumb worked rhythmically, pressing down just hard enough that your hips bucked against him. He was breathing hard above you, thrusting with deep, hard strokes.

Your body tightened, and your breathing was growing shallow. You could scarcely think about anything as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge of your release. Miguel, you knew, was also growing closer based on his grunts of pleasure.

You managed to look up at him and were immediately captivated by his face. His dark hair had fallen over his forehead which glistened with sweat. His full lips were parted as he panted, and his eyes were focused on you. His gaze was electrifying, and as he stared down at you, he whispered your name so softly, so reverently, that you could barely hear it over the sounds your bodies were making.

That was all it took to send you over the edge. You were barely able to make more than a strangled cry as your climax racked your body. Every nerve was set ablaze as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure crashed over you. Your back arched off the bed, and you pulled him down in a tight embrace, your shuddering body pressed against him.

Miguel became ravenous at the sight of your undoing. His hand moved quickly from your clit to wrap under your back as he gave himself over to his desire. His hard thrusts had you clawing at his back, completely overwhelmed with the sensation of his cock slamming into you.

Just as you were coming down from your high, Miguel found his. His body tensed and stilled, a loud, gasping moan filling the air as he spilled himself inside you.

Your body still trembled against his while you both gasped for breath. His skin felt hot and alive, and in the stillness between you, he pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck. Against your chest, you felt Miguel's erratic heart hammering in time with yours. You moaned as he rolled his hips into yours with a few lazy thrusts before he pulled out of you entirely.

You remained sprawled out on the bed while Miguel collapsed next to you with a grunt. For a while, it was silent except for the sounds of your heavy breathing. One of your arms was pressed against his, and the other was draped across your face as you recovered from the intensity of what he had just done to you.

Noticing your posture, Miguel turned to you and brushed his fingers across your cheek. "Are you okay?" He asked softly.

You huffed out a breath, your arm sliding off your face as you looked at him with a smirk. "You just made me cum three times," you told him. "I would say I'm better than okay."

His lips tilted up in a smile at you, and his eyes studied your face intently, taking in every detail of your features. You remembered then why he was even awake, how you were startled from sleep by his thrashing. You had almost forgotten about the terror you had seen in his face earlier that night.

As you leaned your face into his hand, you asked, "Are you okay?" He considered you for a moment, his subtle smile still on his lips. "I just made you cum three times, I'm better than okay," he replied smugly.

Your smile widened, and you rolled your eyes. "You're unbearable," you mumbled, causing him to chuckle. His fingers still traced over your skin, and he added quietly, "I'm always okay when I'm with you."

Your face softened. In the low light, you could just make out his features, the shape of his lips, the angle of his cheekbones, the honesty in his eyes. He was only ever like this, open and vulnerable, with you in bed, still coming off of the high of an orgasm. Outside of sex, he mostly interacted with you through sharp wit and banter. This was the only time he ever lowered his walls enough for you to see soft side of him.

Instead of responding to him, you moved closer until your lips met his gently. You held the kiss for a moment before resting your head down on the pillow next to him, looking into his face with admiration. He stared back at you for a moment with a faint smile on his lips until he closed his eyes as his smile faded, and he let out a deep sigh.

"Hmm?" You hummed questioningly.

"Hmm?" He echoed back, his eyes still closed.

"That sigh—what are you thinking about?" You asked him.

The corner of his lips quirked up. "Maybe I'm sighing just to sigh," he pointed out. You gave a disbelieving scoff. "A likely story," you replied sarcastically.

His smile widened, and he finally opened his eyes to look at you again. You stared at each other for a quiet moment, each waiting for the other to say something. Finally, he sighed again, and you smiled up at him questioningly.

"What?" You prompted quietly.

His faint grin disappeared from his lips, and his eyes roamed over ever inch of your face. "I just—I don't think you realize," he said at last, "the power you have over me."

You blinked in surprise. Whatever you had expected him to say, it wasn't that. Miguel must've read the emotions in your face because he smiled softly again and closed his eyes. "Too much power," he added quietly.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and your cheeks grew warm. He so rarely ever admitted that he cared about you. Despite all the nights like these, sweaty and breathless, and despite the pretty things he’d say in the heat of the moment, and despite the special gifts and treatment he gave you, Miguel hardly ever expressed with words how he felt about you. So, when he did, you often found yourself flustered by those rare confessions.

"Well," you began slowly, "I've heard that with great power comes—"

Miguel groaned, cutting you off. "Don't finish that sentence," he grumbled as he pulled you over to him so that your back pressed against his chest. You giggled, knowing that Miguel had probably heard every variation of your mantra during his time in the multiverse.

He nestled his face against your neck and wrapped his arm around your torso. His warmth enveloped you, and his breath tickled your skin. You rested your arm over his, entwining your fingers together.

"You have power over me, too," you told him quietly. "Way too much."

Miguel didn't say anything in response. A small part of you wondered if he had heard you, but then, he placed a lingering kiss on your shoulder and sighed.

"You should get some sleep," he said at last. "I'm sorry for waking you." You chuckled. "Well, I'm not," you replied wryly, earning a huff of amusement from him.  "And I need to get cleaned up."

He grunted his understanding, tightening his hold on you for just a moment before pulling his arm away to allow you to slip out of bed to the bathroom. When you returned, Miguel had the covers pulled back up, and his breathing was deep and slow.

You slid between the sheets and curled against his side. Even as he was drifting off, his arms pulled you into an embrace. Your own eyes felt heavy now that all your arousal had been satisfied. As you drifted off into sleep, you couldn't tell if you imagined it or if he really did mumble one last time, "I'm glad you're here."

“i don’t want to understand, i want you to stay” w mr zeke yeager haha :|

why do some ppl use jaeger and others use yaeger i do not understand <3

pairing: zeke jaeger x reader

warnings: hurt/no comfort just for u gary. but rly angst w/o happy ending

wc: 740

“I don’t want to understand, I want you to stay.”

Zeke had been spending more and more time away from you. You understood that he wasn't allowed to tell you what he was doing or where he was going for security reasons. But he had been leaving before you'd wake up and coming home after you'd fallen asleep. If it weren't for the brief half-asleep moments you'd wake up and feel him next to you, you'd probably believe he never came home to begin with.

You knew as a Warrior he had obligations to Marley, but sometimes it felt unfair. He already sacrificed everything to become the Beast Titan. He already risked his life going over to the island. What more did they want from him? What now was so important that he needed to spend nearly every hour of every day off hidden away in some building?

And you knew it wasn't like this for all of the Warriors. You often saw Porco, Pieck, and Reiner out and about with the young candidates. They'd invite you out sometimes. Occasionally you'd say yes but usually it was "No, I want to make sure I'm here when Zeke comes home." They'd all give you a sad look, like they knew about his recent neglect towards you. It felt like they all knew something that you didn’t, and no one would tell you.

This morning was no different, Zeke woke up at 4am and wanted to prepare for his long day hidden away in a room doing God knows what. But you weren’t there next to him in bed, this time. Close to three weeks of the same routine and he hadn’t woken up without you beside him a single time, where were you?

The living room, waiting for him to come out so you could talk to him. It would be the first time you’d spoken to him in weeks aside from the half-asleep “I love you”s you share before he leaves in the morning. You had been rehearsing what you’d say to him for hours before he finally came out of the room, fully dressed and ready to go.

“y/n, why are you awake? You should get to sleep,” Zeke walked over to you and reached out his hand, attempting to take you into the bedroom so you could rest.

“We need to talk, Zeke.” You took his hand but pulled him down so he would sit on the couch next to you, “I’ll be quick.”

“About what? y/n I really need to go,” Zeke sat anyway, he could never say no to you even if he tried. He put most things before you. Keyword is most.

“You’ve been so absent lately,” You start, looking down at your hands, “Feels like I don’t even have a partner anymore. Wake up alone, eat dinner alone, go to sleep alone. You were gone for so long and now you’re back but you’re not here.”

“You know I have an obligation to Marley, y/n. They need me there.” Zeke could feel himself already growing annoyed. “I thought you understood, how important this is. We have Eren now, things are going our way. Everything will be okay soon, you know. You have to understand.”

“I don’t want to understand, I want you to stay.” You finally looked into his eyes, “They’re going to send you away again soon I can feel it. And then what? I just wait until you come home so you can do it all over again? Or wait around until I get told you’re dead? Do I get any time with you before they send you to death?”

Zeke scoffed, “You’re being dramatic, y/n. I’m not going anywhere. I have to leave now, I’ll see you tonight.” He started to get up, walking towards the door without waiting for your response.

“If you leave right now, Zeke, I’ll be gone when you get back.” Though your voice shook, he could hear you were serious. And it killed him.

He wanted to stay there with you, he didn’t want to leave every morning and be without you all day before returning to you when you’re already asleep. He absolutely did not want to walk out the door right now and lose everything he had left. But he had to.

“I know. I love you, y/n.”

The door closed behind him.

angst sentence prompts

comments, requests, reblogs, nd likes appreciated<3

i don’t know if it’s the right call to write this. i’m like, weirdly out of touch. It’s 4 am here in Argentina, so if this makes no sense. so be it. 

but i feel like when it comes to characters like johnny - aka male (almost always white too) characters who are shown to be violent and misogynisitic or classist (or racist), that are eventually revealed to have a pretty tragic backstory, meant to cast all their past behavior in a tragic light - i almost feel like im completely done with those stories. I’ve seen them a lot and, most of the time, the backstory not only works as a half-way redeption, but also tends to change the nature of their behavior into something that’s... less meaningful. It removes them from a larger context. More on that later.

The thing is, I liked johnny’s redeption as it was shown in the karate kid. no, that’s not right. I do feel like his story was left incomplete. we don’t see him get back up. and it is nice to see him trying to become a better person, rather than just having the suggestion that he could have been better without kreese’s influence.

But im just a bit tired of the same-old “gotcha! he was just an asshole because he was hurting all along.” reveal. 

Which is not me saying that the writers are wrong to explore how the cobra kai philosophy could be attractive to bullied/marginalized kids. I see how for Tory or Aisha or Miguel the concept of showing no mercy to an unfair world would make perfect sense. especially coming from a teacher they trust.

But with Johnny, i wanted to see a bit of the other side of the cobra kai target audience. 

What does that mean? 

While Kreese is very good at reframing his lessons to fit all kinds of students, really, the real reason why the og Cobra kai lessons creates so many bullies is because if conviced them of this:

what the hell is that, you wonder? i don’t really like how it looks but i have tried putting it to words so many times so... eh. 

It’s the idea that some people are better than other people, stronger than other people. But most importantly, if you’re weak, that changes your worth as a person. Which is why you don’t deserve to escape whatever kind of violence you are subjected to; those who are weak deserve to be put on their place. 

It’s appropiate for a metaphor about US imperialism because it represents an idea that has always been used as a justification of colonialism: “the survival of the fittest”. If a group is weaker than other group, it deserves to be dominated. It deserves to disappear.

This philosophy doesnt come from marginalized groups, and it doesn’t really serve them, even if it can be presented in that way. The lines can be blurred, because human history is complicated as hell but. still. at the end of the day, community is what stops injustice. Not trying to make yourself worthy in the eyes of injust people. 

Having said all that, i’m switching lanes for a second to the way in which cobra kai is presented in this show. sometimes it’s like the show want us to believe that people, kids, need to have cracks to absorb kreese’s (or johnny’s) teachings. cracks brought on by trauma or unjustice. 

and its kind of related to how the phrase “there are no bad students, only bad teachers” gets interpreted in the context of the show.  

I mean, Mr Miyagi doesn’t really go to explain it further so we can read it in many many different ways. But in the show, the idea of a “bad teacher” is closely tied to Kreese’s abusive relationship with Johnny. And, yes, that dimension of the relationship is canon, even in the films. Even in the first film. 

But I also think it’s possible to interpret that phrase in a more neutral sense. A “bad teacher” is not necessarily an abusive one. It can just be someone who is kind to their students but still passes down the wrong kind of values.

And, considering the fact that the karate kid was making several points about  cultural values, the “teacher” doesn’t even have to be a teacher at all. It can just be a family, a culture.

Kids don’t really need cracks to absorb ideas, kids are like sponges. A pair of perfectly loving parents could raise someone who’s not a great person, if they happen to hold harmful ideas. 

So, what annoys me about the idea that cobra kai has finally given us the context of Johnny’s actions its that is seems to imply that, unlike the films, they aren’t saying that he was Evil. That they are instead showing us that he was just a product of his surroundings. 

There’s only one problem. The films do portray him as kid that was the product of his surroundings. 

The difference it’s that it’s not done exclusively throught painful experiences. It’s also done throught privileged experiences. Two things, not one. (And now, he’s just one)

So one moment in the films that gives us a glimpse into Johnny’s motivations its the tournament scene, Which is impeccable, Mr. Zabka put his entire pussy into it 10/10. I will eventually make a post about that. 

But I just. I keep coming back to the Country club scene because it says so much about where Johnny is coming from. 

See, Johnny is quite literally being told that he is a better option for Ali that “that boy from Reseda”. He’s also specifically using the fact that her parents are classist to get close to her. Which it’s another example of him not respecting her choices. But I also think that he fully believes this. 

His background is not some convenient thing, throw in just because. Classism is part of why he is how he is. 

Like, look me in the eyes and tell me these people don’t have their own bussiness-like version of “No mercy” somewhere in their vocabulary. 

And then there’s his general behavior towards Ali, that it’s not really that out of place, even now, in a macho film about “getting the girl”. She does not want you, but dont worry! You’ll win her over by trampling all over her boundaries. She’ll come to her senses and see how much of a man you are! 

Johnny in the Karate Kid is the product of his surroundings, but not just because he’s a kid who’s being influenced by Kreese. He’s also the product of his surroundings as a privileged kid. As a person that is told, not just by Cobra kai, but by the wider society, that he’s more important than other groups of people.  It’s his social class, his position as a white man in the US. 

The main source of his violence is the idea that he’s entitled to that violence. 

It’s why he got so angry at Daniel when he punched back (or sprinkled back, but that sounds less dramatic). It’s why he hates the fact that Ali chose (chose, not was stolen by) Daniel. She chose a boy from reseda who can’t even fight  (who’s weak) over him. Therefore putting everything Johnny has been told about his worth in question. (And just, his attitude towards her, the fact that he thinks he can literally force her to talk to him. It’s so so realistic if you think about all those other things he believes about strength and domination.)

In the movies, these notions of superiority are what makes kids (because we see clearly in the tournament scene that they are still just kids) susceptible to the Cobra kai philosophy. 

And it’s so frustrating! It’s so frustrating because the writers saw that and apperantly were like “Nope, that’s not enoght. Something bad must have happened to him. This it’s too simple.”

Too simple? 

The show transforms the socio-cultural explanation into an interpersonal, individual explanation. He is just A Person who was influenced by A Person. Specifically, a kid in an abusive household who felt prey to a manipulative teacher (And Kreese now has his Own Sad Explanation).  At most, there’s some discussion of Toxic Masculinity (or is there, really?) but, for the most part, his privileged background is ignored. 

I appreciate that we get to see him trying to be a better person, I really do. That he’s recovering from the trauma his teacher inflicted on him. But I am just so tired of the tragic reframing of these kinds of behaviors. Johnny deserves compassion for the things that Kreese put him throught. But when it comes to the belief that he was entitled to hurt other people, entitled to Ali, he doesn’t get sad points for that.  

I just wish we could have seen how a redemption arc would have looked for a guy like that, for that kind of mentality. Maybe then I could finally enjoy a story where a shitty dude gets to grow from his mistakes without feeling like im supposed to pity him for the hurt he caused. 

Cause I am so so so so sick of that, Hollywood! 

Can I request Shiggy with a really motherly S/O but like only to him and LoV but when with other ppl who try sass with them they snap right back. Lots of fluff please!

Yes you can bby 💖

Shigaraki just kinda clings to you in public and yells at Dabi when he teases him about it

Your hand doesn’t even fully belong to you anymore, might as well be handcuffed to him

^ dude will literally put your hand in his pocket along with his own for no reason. You could literally be sitting next to him and he’ll do that

^ Scratch that, you could be touching him already and he’ll still do that

Constantly insisting that for date nights you cook for him and basically just spoil him

He’s a spoiled little baby, and having you sometimes helps. Sometimes cause he thinks he can still get what he wants from you

You’ve got a controller in your favorite color and the handle has your name on it in sharpie

^ probably his most prized controller honestly

Kinda reminds him of how Kurogiri took care of him, so don’t be surprised if he calls you Kurogiri for a while after you two start dating

You’ve got literally 5 minutes to yourself before he starts looking for you

He’s a little kid with you basically. He expects you to take care of everything

^ not like AFO did clearly, but he just wants you to actually care mainly

^ by everything, he means him. Clingy little bitch boy

Dabi’s actually the most protective of you

1. Because you’re his friend

2. You take care of him

And 3. You keep Shigaraki from bitching at him, that’s the most important one

He does appreciate when you treat his new burns but he just says “fuck you” instead of thanks

^ Dont ever expect a “thank you” from him

Might try to convince you to get one of his piercings, like the one he has on the top of his ear

^ but only one of those rings or whatever the fuck they are

Might as well be Toga’s parent

Literally clingier than Shigaraki is

Bby gives you her own knives to use when you cook

^ don’t use them cause they’re probably not very clean

Offers to help you cook or treat someone’s wounds, except Shig, she’ll probably get yelled at for trying to touch him

Always asks if you two can go commit arson or somethin without the other guys for once

Twice tries not to talk around you cause he doesn’t wanna come off as rude or say something he didn’t mean to by accident

When he stays silent though, it still seems like he thinks he’s being rude, so he just holds your wrist and randomly gives it a squeeze so you know he’s paying attention

He does sometimes offer you a cigarette if you’re up early enough (or still awake late enough)

Sometimes lets you take off his mask, but only if you think he’s got a cut there or something along the lines of that

He likes watching you work, he’s got a bit of a weird fascination with it

Mr. Compress likes to entertain you with magic tricks because you’re the only one that actually seems to care

He’s got matching masks with you and you’ve got an outfit like his, but in a different color instead of orange

He tries his best to help you out with chores since everyone else won’t, except maybe Toga and Twice

He’s like a little kid showing you their rock collection. He likes showing you all of his masks

They’re all somewhat scared of you

Y’know when you’ve got a friend that’s always really sweet, so it’s really scary when they snap? Yeah, that’s you

Don’t ever raise your voice at any of them, or even around them

Tomura’s probably the only one that won’t hide in a corner

He just sits behind you until you’re done ruining someone’s self esteem. The rest just run a few blocks away

It’s kinda cute to see you a little angry, but not when it’s directed at him

Probably has a picture of you just glaring at a potential recruit

Sometimes Dabi finds it funny when you try to insult someone

Toga’s got a list of people she doesn’t like that she wants you to find

Compress drags you back after he’s gotten over the situation

Twice and Shig just kinda sit there until you’re done. Twice might join you for a bit though

^ don’t count on it though

how do you think kenma, tsukki, bokuto and kuroo deal with their fem s/o whose sleep schedule is literally fucked up because of quarantine, like they sleep at day and are awake at night lmao anyways i hope youre doing okay out there! luv u em uwu

thank u friend!! lots of love to uthis is probably really relatable for a lot of ppl right now, so i thought these would be cute to write. but pls know these are really just general “s/o with a bad sleep schedule” hcs because there’s no mention of the world’s current situation as i really do not feel comfy exploiting it for content. hopefully that is okay

-

kenma kozume

-honestly, kenma would have no issue with your sleep schedule being completely upside down, because, shocker, so is his

-it’s his natural setting. he prefers to be awake when it’s dark out, and he likes falling asleep to the sound of the morning birds chirping, and he can get away with having a schedule like this most of the time

-his job doesn’t call for any sort of schedule - in fact, he stays up quite late while streaming pretty often. he just hopes you don’t mind his sleeping patterns, and kenma would love having you up all night with him if you were able to be

tsukishima kei

-kei would be pretty annoyed by it. he’s an early bird, even on days where he has absolutely nothing to do

-for a couple days he wouldn’t mind it, honestly he’d enjoy the alone time, but after awhile he realizes that his whole routine is wrecked - and that he misses you

-which is why it makes him really happy when he wakes up one morning to find that you are still awake and ready to have breakfast with him. he definitely teases you for being up all night, and will probably try to make you stay up with him all day so you can fix your sleeping schedule, but either way, having breakfast together is a good compromise 

bokuto koutarou

-koutarou absolutely thrives off of having a routine - without one, he would never get anything done. you quickly become a part of his routine, a part of his schedule. and when your sleeping patterns become drastically different than his, it completely throws off that routine and he’s hardly sure what to do about it 

-any time koutarou is awake, you’re asleep and vice versa. he hates it. it is the worst. periodically throughout the day he will go into your room and cuddle up to you trying to wake you up, and it’s your choice if you deny him or not - just know, though, that bokuto will do everything in his power to get your sleep schedule back to being the same as his (which is a “normal” one.) he just needs you to be there throughout the day so he can feel normal, and he misses doing all the things you two usually do together every day

kuroo tetsurou

-tetsurou wouldn’t like it at all at first. he’d probably even give you some lecture about the importance of sleeping well and why humans sleep at night and blah blah blah 

-but it doesn’t take long for him to end up following your sleeping pattern; it’s hard to not stay up late watching a show with you or sleep in cuddling you, and kuroo changes his tune very quickly when he realizes that he appreciates spending time with you more than getting a good night’s sleep 

-getting a good day’s sleep is just as good, right? and if that sleeping schedule isn’t affecting your daily lives or well-beings, then he can’t really complain, can he?

16, 21 and 34? (sry I'm so late lol didn't see it before)

16. If you could pick any planet beside earth, where would you live?

Time for me to be a basic bitch and say Mars... especially the old publishings from the 60s where ppl thought we’d be living on mars in the 80’s. yougha ☹️

21. Is there a song you can’t handle listening to, even though you like it?

I Want You To Know I’m Awake/ I Hope That Your Asleep by Car Seat Headrest because I listened to it multiple times a day during a really shitty couple of months LUL.

34. What food do you binge on when you’re lazy?

I love fruit (the food and not the gays) especially apples and oranges..... sometimes an orange will Fix You

count to seventeen and close your eyes

Whumptober 2020 Theme 1: let’s hang out sometime; prompt 2: shackled (loosely)

More specific CW: a small child stabs a guy with the help of his father, pov character gets stabbed a lot, graphic depictions of violence, torture, body horror, major character death, White No-Face’s general creepiness, it’s That Scene from book four except Worse, minor dissociation

Glossary for ppl like my mom who have no idea what any of this is -Xie Lian/dianxia/gege -- the guy getting stabbed a bunch; he’s a disgraced god and the former Crown Prince of XianLe, a fallen kingdom -San Lang/Hua Cheng-- he is a ghost, and is the ghost flame; he’s in love with Xie Lian -White No-Face-- he is also a ghost, and he wears a white half smiling-half crying mask; he’s pretty creepy even when not in strange nightmare territory. -Human face disease-- a disease reminiscent of the chicken pox, but instead of red bumps, it is human faces, and it is deadly if not cured, but there is only one cure *cue croods dun dun dun sound effect* -A’die-- dad, informal -(xiao-)baobei-- (little) treasure; a nickname for small children -Dianxia-- your highness

The first half of this is a nightmare, which becomes progressively more obvious as it goes on, so strange body horror stuff is not editing errors. It is not a rewrite of the temple scene in book four; it is a nightmare about that scene. (though, to be fair, i only went through and edited for grammar, not narrative consistency or flow.)

—start—

Xie Lian sits in the decrepit shrine, avoiding looking at the toppled statue, even though it looks nothing like him. 

Slowly, more people arrive. The scene feels familiar, the way dreams are familiar.

He blinks, and the room is full of people, farmers and families and merchants and performers. A little boy waves at him from the doorway. Xie Lian waves back, but his hand is caught by a freezing grip.

“Hello, dianxia,” White No-Face says from behind him. Xie Lian freezes.

There’s a crash outside the temple, followed by moaning. A ghost flame appears above White No-Face’s head. White No-Face catches it easily as he guides Xie Lian to the altar in front of the toppled statue. Xie Lian wants to struggle, but he can’t. 

White No-Face speaks to the crowd as he ties Xie Lian to the altar. Xie Lian doesn’t come to his senses until it’s too late for him to struggle free. His breaths are coming too fast, short and panicky. White No-Face strokes a hand across his cheek in a gesture that is meant to be comforting, but it only serves to heighten Xie Lian’s fear.

White No-Face continues speaking to the crowd, telling them all about the Human Face Disease. “The cure is murder,” White No-Face says. Xie Lian’s panic grows again.

“Who are we supposed to kill!” a merchant shouts.

White No-Face tilts his head. Xie Lian can only see the smiling part of his mask from this angle. “After seeing dianxia’ s face, I should think it would be obvious who to kill.” Xie Lian gets the sense that White No-Face is smiling under his mask.

The little ghost fire caught in White No-Face’s hands flickers angrily, flashing between red and silver. Xie Lian realizes it wants to kill anyone who even considers what White No-Face is implying.

“Oh right!” a farmer cries. “He’s a god! He’ll come back!”

The crowd shoves forward eagerly. A family of three pushes their way to the front. “Our xiao-baobei has a face already! We should go first.”

The little boy from earlier takes up the sword White No-Face offers him. “ Dianxia will be okay, right a’die ?” he asks, struggling with the weight of the black blade.

“Of course, baobei ,” the father says, placing his hands over his son’s. Together, they stab into Xie Lian’s chest, through his heart.

It hurts.

More people take up the sword, stabbing through his heart and neck equally. White No-Face continues stroking his face through the whole thing, in a mockery of comfort.

“I tell you the truth,” a merchant says, stepping forward to take the sword. “There were rumors that he knew the cure long before XianLe fell. All those deaths from the Human Face Disease would be considered his fault.”

The crowd considers this. “Of course it would have to be his fault,” a performer calls.

The rest of the crowd agrees.

I didn’t want to turn my entire people into murderers, Xie Lian tries to say. The sword slices into his throat again.

It hurts.

White No-Face pauses in his caressing of Xie Lian’s face to say, “oh, but dianxia . They don’t really blame you.” White No-Face’s head turns, so that Xie Lian can only see the smiling half of the ghost’s mask. “You’re just convenient.”

Xie Lian can’t reply, his throat too mangled to speak. He’s not sure how he’s even able to hear right now; his ears are drenched in his blood. He can’t feel his legs, or his arms, or anything beyond pain.

It hurts.

The sword slides into his chest again.

It hurts.

Xie Lian’s eyes lock onto the little ghost fire trapped in White No-Face’s hands. It never told Xie Lian its name, but he knows it anyway.

Why does he know its name?

The flame flickers silver.

The sword slides in and out of his stomach. Another death.

It hurts.

San Lang, he tries to say. San Lang. San Lang, save me.

All that comes out is a garbled sound, muffled by the blood clotted in his mouth. He can’t breathe.

It hurts.

White No-Face laughs. “ Dianxia , your San Lang can’t save you.”

Xie Lian watches in horror as White No-Face reaches down with one hand. When did he get another hand? San Lang is still cupped in two of them. White No-Face’s mask has gotten bigger.

White No-Face trails a finger along Xie Lian’s face, dragging the tip through the blood and tears drying there. “So messy,” he chides. “Now, where’s your necklace.”

If Xie Lian’s heart hadn’t been stabbed through already, it would have stopped at those words.

No! He tries to shout. San Lang’s flame flickers silver again.

It hurts.

“Ah, here we are.” White No-Face’s mask is even bigger now. Another hand closes around the ring looped around Xie Lian’s neck. “I’ll take that.”

White No-Face gives the chain a single sharp tug, and it snaps. Xie Lian struggles to move, to do something to take it back, to take it out of White No-Face’s hands.

It hurts.

White No-Face tuts. “Now now, dianxia . You can’t go moving just yet. You’re injured.” He holds up the broken chain, fist closed around the ring. “Now, let’s see. This is a very pretty trinket. It would be such a shame if it were to… fall.” The chain slips through White No-Face’s fingers. Xie Lian watches it fall with growing horror, trying to move to catch it.

He can’t, tied too tightly. The sword slides in again.

It hurts.

There’s a distant crash.

It hurts.

The ghost flame in White No-Face’s hands flickers silver one last time, then explodes into silver butterflies.

Xie Lian tries to scream.

“Now it’s just us, Dianxia,” White No-Face says sweetly, palm still cradling Xie Lian’s face like a parent would to a child. “We’ll have so much fun together.” The hands that were holding San Lang have disappeared.

Xie Lian watches the last butterfly flicker out of existence and sobs.

The sword slides in again.

It hurts.

--

Xie Lian jerks awake in the quiet of Puqi Shrine, muffling a scream on his fist. His other hand scrabbles at his chest, searching for wounds that aren’t there, until it finds San Lang’s ashes looped around his neck. He closes his hand around the ring, hunching in on himself, and shudders, holding back sobs.

He wants San Lang here, but San Lang is in Ghost City right now, dealing with the new Supreme that’s risen up. Xie Lian can handle nightmares without bothering San Lang; he’s been doing it for over eight centuries now.

His fingers close around the dice anyway, and before he’s consciously aware of it, he’s already walked through the doors into Hua Cheng’s receiving hall.

Xie Lian is wearing a simple white outer robe; it had been cold recently, so he’d taken to sleeping with both an inner and an outer layer. He’s holding his bamboo hat in his hand, and he looks conspicuously out-of-place among the more grotesque fashions of the ghosts and ghouls watching Hua Cheng converse with the new supreme.

Hua Cheng’s eyes snap away from the supreme when Xie Lian appears, and Xie Lian regrets coming, because this was silly, he can deal with nightmares on his own, and San Lang is clearly busy, but then San Lang is right next to him and the citizens of Ghost City are grumbling but leaving, and one of San Lang’s servants is leading the Supreme to a guest room and Xie Lian is wrapped into a hug.

“Dianxia, gege, what’s wrong?” San Lang murmurs into his hair, and all Xie Lian can do in response is clutch San Lang closer, pressing his face into San Lang’s maple-red tunic, and let out the sobs he’s been holding in since he woke up.

San Lang holds him tightly, humming a song into Xie Lian’s hair. Xie Lian lets San Lang’s song wash over him, washing away the taint his nightmare left on him.

--

Xie Lian comes to himself in Hua Cheng’s private chambers, curled up on San Lang’s lap while San Lang cards his fingers through Xie Lian’s hair. San Lang is humming quietly.

Xie Lian shifts to sit up, and San Lang’s arms tighten momentarily before releasing him. “Is gege alright now?” San Lang asks, gentle.

Xie Lian hums in acquiesce, pressing a kiss to San Lang’s cheek, before gingerly moving off of San Lang’s lap to sit next to him. “I’m sorry for disturbing San Lang’s meeting,” he murmurs. “I know it was important.”

Hua Cheng huffs. “Not nearly as important as dianxia.”

Xie Lian buries his face back into San Lang’s shoulder to hide the redness of his cheeks. “San Lang is too good to me, truly,” he protests.

“Nonsense. Gege deserves everything good, and more,” San Lang declares. “Nothing this San Lang does could be too good for gege.”

— fin —

Author Notes

Title is from the My Chemical Romance song S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, which is *technically* a post-apocalyptic lullaby set last year. *Looks outside.* Well, they weren't too far off. if you look at the lyrics closely, it fits v well with hualian and also it's one of my fav my chem songs and i am but a humble emo. Also, i just really like that line in the song bc it's so odd and strangely comforting.

I toyed with using the phrase "It hurts" bc I used said phrase eleven (11) times in the nightmare portion of this fic. I counted. (With the find and replace function on google docs bc i'm lazy) Make of that what you will.

the Ao3 link is on the reblog to my main

Personal-ish notes that are skippable past here (TL:DR is VOTE, goddammit, for my USA peeps.)

Anyway, this note is brought to you by me ignoring my parents "discussing" black lives matter. I swear to god, I can't wait until I can move out because guess whose parents are probably going to be voting for trump again this year. I am Not Pleased. In fact, I'm pissed, bc I am a queer white girl in a small white town, and right now, I'm not as disproportionately affected by trump as some people, but there are people who will not survive another trump term. there are people who didn't survive this trump term. anyway, repeating the tldr bc its important. tldr is VOTE, goddammit, and I swear, if you support trump in any way, you might as well just leave.

hi can i get a joker matchup please? i’m 5’4,have brown eyes,purple hair,and i’m hispanic. i’m slim thicc😂i love to read and write,i mostly write poetry and i sometimes try at actual stories. i’m the type of girl to wake my s/o up at 3am for a random road trip or even to just go to a park. i’m very clingy and love cuddles. i have ptsd (from r***), mdd, and bpd (which makes it really hard for me to trust people and keep stable relationships). i also have self harm scars. idk what else to say lol

this is the purple haired nonny that j sent a matchup request,i just have a few things to add lol.i’m hella goth,i dress in all black and i’m overall just a dark person.i have my lip,septum,and nostril pierced(i plan on getting way more).i have glasses and i’m practically legally blind w/o them on.i have a really bad rbf,which intimidates ppl(my piercings and style aren’t any help with that lmao)&it kinda makes me sad that it does because i’m actually really friendly and sweet. okay im done lol

You asked me about this a few times and I just wanted to say thank you for being so patient with me - I’ve had your matchup since March 😭 as an extra thank you, and as an apology, I made this as long as I possibly could! I hope that it ends up being worth the wait, darling.💕 I worked on this for about a week, so I hope you enjoy it!

Total wc: 3, 387 ✨✨✨

Arthur // wc: 1, 647.

There’s a four inch height difference between yourself and Arthur and he adores it. It’s not that the fact that you’re shorter than him means that you need to be protected, but even so, he can’t stop himself fully from wanting to protect you even more. Your brown eyes are arguably Arthur’s favourite thing about you, if he had to pick just one (really, he loves all of you for exactly who you are and he wouldn’t change a single thing about you!), because they’re so different to his. When he’s in the middle of a laughing attack or when he just can’t think straight, Arthur likes to cup your face in his hands while he looks into your eyes. “Perfect,” he murmurs, so quietly that you’re not even entirely sure that you were supposed to hear him. You were stood so close to him, though, that you did hear him and it only made your face heat up in embarrassment. Your purple hair is something that Arthur cherishes. In a city of grey buildings, grey concrete, grey suits and dull colours, all too telling of a dying city, your hair is vibrant and it stands out, it makes a statement and Arthur wishes that he had that same level of confidence and bravery. He tells himself that if he spends enough time in your company, then maybe some of that confidence will become his, too. Anything which is important to you is, by default, important to Arthur, and he would soak up anything about your culture that you want to share with him like he’s a sponge. Injustice infuriates Arthur and if anyone ever said anything even slightly offensive to you or about you, then Arthur would be rightfully indignant and he can, will, and has taken a few punches to defend your honour. Arthur loves all of you and he wouldn’t have you any other way, and if ever you became insecure about any part of you, physical or otherwise, then Arthur would be right there with cuddles and all the words you need to hear the most! You’re creative and quiet evenings are spent with the two of you spending time together separately. You would be sat on the worn sofa, with a spring digging into you from somewhere, writing a story or creating poetry, and Arthur would be sat at the small coffee table. The room would be filled with a quietly playing film on the old television, and the sounds of your scribbling and Arthur’s own squeakier pen. Arthur wouldn’t ever ask you, he’s too shy and too afraid of rejection, but he’d love to read the things which you’ve written and he’d put on personal shows for you, too, so that he can practice his comedy, and he might even ask you to help him with his material!

For one reason or another, Arthur has insomnia and most often is he awake at all hours of the night, only able to grab a scant handful of hours of sleep before he’s woken up by his own body. He also likes to go on late night walks, especially after Penny dies, and your spontaneous tendencies to go to the park at 3 AM would be perfect here; because when you wake up, wanting to go on an adventure, Arthur already has his worn and faded mustard yellow jacket on, shoes by the door and a knowing but weary and exhausted smile on his face. “Let’s go, darling,” Arthur would light up a cigarette, exhaling and running a hand through his hair, “Before it starts to get light.”. Arthur adores these night time adventures and he is always, in one way or another, touching you. Whether it’s cuddling on the sofa when he’s watching The Murray Franklin Show (you’re too busy watching him to be fussed about someone who’s entire comedic theme is humiliating other people for the sake of a laugh from a bought and paid for audience), or holding Arthur close to you when he’s shivering after you found him in the fridge at three in the morning, or an arm wrapped around your waist when you’re on the way home from Pogo’s, or even just a grounding touch, you are always touching one another in one way or another. Both of you have your struggles and challenges and it’s not an easy relationship to begin with, but there is so much love between you and that’s what really keeps the two of you together. Arthur is no stranger when it comes to mental illness and if he ever had any questions, he would either ask you directly or he would bring it up during his next appointment with Doctor Kane. As far as finding it difficult to trust people Arthur always understands and he would do everything that he could, as well as you doing everything that you could, to coax and to ease each other into the connection which is so obviously there. The first time you showed him your self harm scars, he cooed softly in shared pain and in understanding and in love and he lavished kisses all over the scars, a single shaky index finger gently rubbing in his kisses, as if the love he has for you would seep into the pores of your skin and heal you from the inside out… he’s not far wrong. Again, and this is very important, Arthur loves you for all of you, and there’s nothing you could ever say or do which would make Arthur love you any less or be any less proud of you.

 Arthur really admires your style. Everyone in Gotham follows the crowd. They don’t ever deviate for fear of ridicule or similar and as such, your own bravery in being who you are and putting your outside on the inside is something which Arthur deeply admires and again does he feel that if he spends lots of time with you, some of your confidence and security in who you are as a person will rub off on him. In time will he discover just how right he is in that theory, though it will be in the worst of ways. You’re a dark person and Arthur gravitates towards that; it’s cathartic, for one, but also, for Arthur, there’s safety in your darkness because it’s yours. He adores how the dark colours you wear contrast so starkly with the bright and mismatched colours which he wears. You complete each other, he thinks, and he wants to know whether your piercings hurt. Why did you get them? Why those places? Did it hurt? How did it happen, what was the process of being pierced? Whether he rattles off those questions in an excited blur or finds out the answers over time all depends on how receptive you are to his curiosity, but he’d definitely be very curious and supportive. Arthur would really admire how comfortable you are in your own skin and he hopes for that for himself, one day. It’ll be sooner than either of you think and neither of you will be ready. You have glasses and Arthur only ever touches them if they’re left somewhere which is dodgy - for example, on the edge of the sink. He lets you put them down and take them off and he’s ready and willing always to give you a hand if you drop them, but otherwise he doesn’t interfere. He wouldn’t like it if you moved his things around, after all, though of course he wouldn’t say anything. Arthur is incredibly protective of you and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. You’re his entire world and he’s so ready and willing to love you with everything that he has and everything that he is. The fact that you feel the same way about him only makes him want to cry. Sometimes he does, and you hold him close and you comfort him and he only cries more. Mutual comfort is something which is really common in your relationship and you both adore it and each other all the more for it. 

Arthur was definitely intimidated by you when he first saw you, but it wasn’t because of your resting face, your style or your piercings. It was just because that’s how Arthur is, so shy and so unsure of social interactions is he. He kept looking at you, intensely curious about you and wanting to talk to you, but in the end were you the one to approach him; you’re friendly and sweet and after that first awkward interaction, Arthur was very taken with you and he wanted to dive straight in to the oceans of your mind and to never resurface. Months later, that is still very much what he wishes to do with you, just as much as you want to dive into him! Arthur really does admire the way that you’re not afraid to be yourself, and he would tell you as such on your first meeting. “I… I re-really like your - your clothes. They look good on you.”. As the days turn to weeks and the weeks bleed into months, Arthur is no longer intimidated by you. He knows you, he sees you, he loves you. He loves all of you just as deeply as you love all of him and when you get sad by the way people assume about you, Arthur hums softly. “I know what that’s like. It hurts but… so long as the people who love you, like me,” He would smile sweetly, “Know who you are, then, that’s okay. You’re the best person in Gotham and you make everything worth it.”. Arthur loves you for all of you, and there’s nothing which you could ever say or do which would make him love you any less or be any less proud of you.

Joker // wc: 1, 740.

If you thought that Arthur used to be protective of you, then you’re in for a wild ride when he saunters home one night and, “it’s Joker now, darling!”. You don’t know what this is all about and you’re not sure how to take it, but there’s something familiar in those green oceans which you know and love so well. You stop and you look at Arthur and you realise that he’s the same man he’s always been. There’s just something about him which has always been so magnetic, so hypnotic and so specifically Arthur that you know you would recognise him anywhere. You’re not entirely supportive of who he is as Joker, because you want for him to still get the help and support which he so obviously needs, but you also know that you love him and that you will weather every storm with him, every storm for him, just as he always will for you. Your brown eyes bring Joker home to you every single day, just as they always have, and you come to sync up your hair dying routines: when you dye your hair purple, Joker dyes his green. You help each other out with this, bonding over your vivid colours, and as the green and the purple flecks merge and blend together in the ceramic sink, tinged yellow with age, Joker realises that he’s finally home; body, mind, heart and soul. You are his home. Joker is extremely protective of you, and where he used to take punches to defend you, now he gives them out, too, not giving people a chance to retract anything they say or do to you. You get what you fucking deserve, as he once so famously said, and it’s not unusual for you to have to tend to his injuries, just like you had to tend to his bruises when he used to take beatings, the poor man. You’re creative and so much of how you used to spend your days together remains to be the same; Joker wants to show you that he’s still the same man he’s always been, even after his mental break, but he just no longer cares about what the world may think of him. You still spend quiet evenings together, with you writing and Joker either reading his old battered brown journal or watching the news quietly. He does everything he can to show you that he’s still himself and you only love him deeper for who he is. In truth does Joker love you just as deeply. You’re his entire world and he makes sure that you know that.

Your spontaneous nature works perfectly with Joker; by now is he used to being up all hours of the night, to doing things just because he can, so when you wake up at 3 AM wanting to go for a walk somewhere, Joker’s probably coming in through the front door after a night of doing who knows what (you’ll find out in the morning, you’re sure, when you finally watch the news), and he’s ready to go out again when you are! You’re very clingy and you love to cuddle and Joker adores all the ways you love on him, just like you used to. Really, nothing much has changed in your relationship, apart from the fact that Arthur no longer cares. He’s so cuddly with you and even when he’s busy, he always has time for you. If he doesn’t, then he makes time for you; you’re always his number one priority. You always have been and you always will be. You’re his one and only and no matter what kind of mood he’s in, he welcomes your touches and he always wants more of them and of you. Sometimes Joker’s too pent up to be touched but he learns over the days and weeks to let you in, to let you help him, and really, he loves you too much to ever fully push you away. Even when everything in him is screaming at him to get up, to run, to get out, because his various mental illnesses are now untreated and who knows how that will show itself within him, Joker will remain still. He may be stiff in your hold but after a few moments, he’ll relax into you just like he always will. You have PTSD, as does Arthur, and he understands. By this stage in your relationship, Arthur knows exactly how to help you, how to support you and how to be there for you, and there’s still nothing that he wouldn’t do for you. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows, nothing ever is, and if it’s ever too good to be true, that’s because it is and you should run, dearheart, but time and again do the two of you fall back together because there is so much love between you. No matter how rough it gets, no matter how difficult things are for either of you, there is always love and that’s what matters most of all! You are almost always touching in one way or another, that is another thing which has never changed, and when you’re cuddling, Joker likes to press kisses to your self-harm scars; just like he always used to. To replace your marks of pain and suffering with marks of love and understanding is something which he still loves to do, and again and again do you look at Joker and you see him, just as you always have. You love each other so deeply and it is the saving grace when times are so rough that you wonder what the point of everything is. The point is each other and you remind each other of that fact every single day, so in love are the two of you that you don’t even have to try; you just are. The best things in life defy explanation.

Joker adores your style. You are so you and when he is out and about in the city he likes to look for things which he thinks you would like; he usually grabs them quickly and tucks them under his blazer. He can run fast and he is never worried about getting caught. One day that will catch up to him, but for now will he present you with gifts with a flourish fitting the clown he is and a proud smirk. He knows you so well. Even to this day, months later from the day he first met you, he really admires you and your courage to dress the way you most like to. And now, with Arthur out of his old high school clothes and into a brightly coloured, highly recognised suit, the two of you dress like stark opposites to each other if Joker goes out in public. When he goes out bare faced and in his older clothes, though, the two of you are still contrasted, especially because Arthur wears his bright yellow hoodie. This contrast only makes Joker stay close to you; you are different in some ways but for every difference is there a similarity and he clings to those as surely as he clings to your hand. Your hair means that you stand out in a crowd, but Joker loves that - he knows that you’re real and actually with him when people double take when you walk past them. Most of the souls in Gotham are apathetic to the things which go on around them so people barely notice your hair colour, but Joker cherishes the small reminders that you do exist. It makes him hold your hand a little tighter, his fingers interlocked with yours even as he smirks over at you. On Hallowe’en, he likes to ask you to do his makeup and you match on those nights and Joker loves to dance around in the streets with you, your piercings glinting in the soft orange glow given off by the street lights, people staring but the two of you uncaring… You have glasses and Joker still doesn’t touch them unless you have left them somewhere which could be dangerous, like the edge of the sink, but he also likes to tap upon one of the arms of your glasses by way of asking you to remove them so that he can see you. This is especially true if you’re crying, so he can wipe your tears away directly from the source, a soft smirk on his lips. Oh, how he loves you. There is nothing that he won’t do for you and that’s always been true and it will always be true.

When you’re out and about in the streets with Arthur and someone turns their shoulder so that you don’t walk into them, they’re either being polite or they’re intimidated by you. Sometimes you can shrug it off, always assuming the best in people, but when Joker can see that you have been upset by it, so intuitive is he and so well does he know you, he only grips  your hand tighter and he says something like, “it’s okay, I know who you are. That’s all that matters. People think they know me too, and,” He shrugs, smirking, but you can see the pain in his beautiful sea green eyes, “They don’t. But you do. And that’s enough for me.” the it has to be goes unspoken but you hear it anyway and you squeeze his hand by way of silent understanding. So much of what passes between the two of you is unspoken because you just know each other so well that you don’t even need to speak - you can see it in each other’s eyes. No matter what happens, no matter where you go or who you become, Joker loves you. You’re his everything; your love for him is the weapon against the world which he keeps locked and loaded, his finger on the trigger even though he knows that you’ll protect him so well that he doesn’t even need to bother to defend himself. He loves all of you for exactly who you are, just as you love all of him, and there’s nothing which the two of you wouldn’t do for each other. The best things defy explanation and, oh, not even Shakespeare himself could adequately describe the love which exists between the two of you. You’re written into the very fabric of the universe.

ON RUNNING AND DIETING (?) ok not really, it’s more body and health stuff. A note-to-self

Blogging on my other iphone, that’s why the caps are in order. I’ve lost about one kilogram even though I’ve been eating supper — which happens when I try to skip dinner but end up ravenous and clearing the fridge and breakfast counter of morsels leftovers — and a lot of dessert. Not sure why that is. Maybe it’s what I’m eating. Generally, if I’m doing a late meal, I avoid/don’t have any craving for carbs. I always want meat or sweets.

I’ve also been doing some light running, which actually doesn’t help at all with weight loss (when I was pushing myself to run further and for longer, I gained weight lmao. So now I keep it light), but it makes you full because you end up drinking a lot of water after a run.

I think I’ve also cut down on eating big meals for dinner. OK, not really. I often do fancy meals at night after work as a way of REMINDING MYSELF THAT IF IM A PART OF THIS CAPITALIST SYSTEM I MIGHT AS WELL ENJOY WHAT IT OFFERS jk (p.s. can we talk about the way non soc sci/arts majors or ppl uneducated on the concepts in general misuse the word capitalism and communism because they want to make some smart, witty comments. I usually don’t correct them; that’s just not my thing because I don’t “know it all”. Though I am laughing at them on the inside because I have my condescending af moments. The only time I ever thought to correct was when this girl doing a presentation in architecture on Impressionism referenced Naturalism and talked about it being a movement of painting nature. I waited for the TA to say something, but she never did)

Wow I sidetracked. Point of this post is I love seeing the numbers go down each time I weight myself, but I’m also not a calorie counter. Honestly i couldn’t give a fuck, I’ll eat what I want as long as I don’t overdo it

But some learning points for myself.

How to eat less

- go to work (I really eat less when I’m working at work because I feel stressed and uncomfortable and am constantly in fight mode)

- buy a heavy lunch; eat 2/3 for lunch and 1/3 for dinner and enjoy a full dessert. You can split the dessert for both lunch and dinner too

- drink unsweetened tea with your meals

- practise eating smaller portions of rice. Eventually you get used to it that anything more than a 1/2 or 2/3’s a bowl seems too much

- it’s OK to not eat on time. Because it depends on what time you sleep anyway. Just be sure not to sleep immediately after eating. You will feel like shit

- trust your body. Does it feel warm? Can you feel the sugar in your blood? GET UP AND GO FOR A WALK/RUN

- eat balanced meals. And I don’t just mean greens and lean meats and a small serving of carbs. I mean a savoury-sweet-smoky sort of balance.

- avoid sweetened drinks. Sweet beverages aren’t a lot of fun anyway. Save the sugar for dessert.

- if you have IBS, yes, I know it sucks. But make use of it to help you cut down on food

- AVOID MOST COFFEES AND ALCOHOL YOU GENERALLY DONT LIKE THESE ANYWAY and they MESS UP YOUR GUT FOR THE DAY SO STAHP PLS

//

On running and why i should keep doing it and how I can keep doing it

- HELPS WITH ANXIETY. Heart no longer pounds like crazy when I spot roaches. I can climb the stairs just fine. What a beautiful feeling.

- sucks that they changed the street lamps to fluorescents instead of the dim orange ones, and now I can feel myself looking like a sweaty, beastly and pasty thing doing circuits at midnight. But ok, I’ll find a route that works ie. I can run up and down that short strip where the street lamps still glow orange

- I will always care about how I look when running. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted that. What’s important is to choose what time I want to run. 10.30pm-past midnight works. Running late doesn’t keep me up at night. In fact I sleep better when I run at night.

- running keeps my hair from being oily. My hair gets greasy easily (likely from years of overwashong and ruthlessly stripping it of natural oils — I used to wash twice a day. I still wash it twice a day because I can’t stand the feeling of unwashed hair, but now I keep it to one shampoo wash and one no ‘poo wash in a day)

- correct your running posture. Try not to lean forward so much. Unclench your fists

- WARM UP BEFORE AND AFTER RUNNING

- run 1-2 times a week. Keep the runs short and fun, so you don’t dread them

- keep discovering new music to listen to when you run

//

HOW TO DEAL WITH IBS (?) I’m self-diagnosed lol

- stand up or walk around after food

- consume a light breakfast and drink water in the morning - helps with bowel movement

- bathe first so you don’t waste time wondering if you’re going to have a bowel movement

- a simple zao cao routine helps shout-out to my chinesey high school for introducing this to us

- dont eat a heavy breakfast or lunch when at work; it’ll ruin your productivity and ability to focus for the rest of the day and severely upset your stomach

- bread generally causes you less problems than rice and noodles

- ramen broth is a no no

- raw salmon sashimi is also a no no

- you’re lactose intolerant: avoid milk teas and other milk-based drinks for breakfast and lunch

- VEGGIES AND FRUITS

- try not to eat dry rice

- try not to eat brown/red rice. This gives you constipation

- try to eat cooked veggies as far as possible, bcos uncooked veggies can also cause you constipation

- exercise helps with bowel movements

- Train yourself to have bowel movements only at the start/end of the day

- wake up a bit earlier before work to give your body some time to get used to being alive and awake again lol and also to decide if it has to poop

Soon Goodbye, Now Love: chapter four

chapter one 

chapter two

chapter three

new ppl who r just seeing this it’s a guardian angel A/U find pt 1 n two  here ☟

Ao3   ff.net

tw’s: swearing, mentions on depression

still based on this song lol

a/n: is It copyright if I include lines word for word from the movies also is it weird lol too late. 

Chapter four: Make a Wave

Chloe had sat awake all night at her kitchen counter where she had a clear view of the living room and the small sleeping girl on her couch. Paranoia had led to the performance of unnecessary extra work while she waited with a small bath of coffee and her laptop, constantly visually and audibly aware of the situation if anything arose. 

Certain that she would be able to leave her job four or five hours early the next day because of the extra labor, she thought of what the girl- Beca, would do after carrying out the medial plans Chloe had made. They were, now that she thought about it, of a very impractical a nature and it had only just dawned on her how unrealistic they were. Granted, Beca seemed like she wasn’t completely hopeless. Although Chloe was not sure if she believed everything about her story, she knew that the girl wasn’t without resources; She said she’d lived in the city beforehand and she had to have paid some money to travel all the way from Massachusetts to New York.  She considered maybe meeting her again after work since she would be getting off so early, but she was still wary of the entire situation and how rash she was being. The thought that she had so expeditiously befriended this stranger she had found wandering alone in the middle of a field with no shoes or clothes and a long and kind-of gap-filled story was making her brain hurt.

After an extremely uneventful evening, the early hours of the morning dawned and Chloe threw together a small breakfast for herself and began to prepare for the day ahead. She found an old Barden school-sweatshirt in her closet to give to Beca and a pair of trainers she no longer wore, assuming for the time being that the girl truly didn’t own a pair of shoes.

After a brief interval of hesitation, she gently nudged her sleeping guest and murmured a cheerful greeting upon the girl’s stirring. Beca dressed in her newly-cleaned clothes, ate the cereal Chloe gave her in groggy gratitude and at the turn of the hour just as Chloe had promised, they left for the city in her red 90′s Nissan pulsar. 

 The conversation shared hitherto had been sparse and for the most part admitted on Chloe’s initiative, but after ten still fairly uneasy minutes of driving, Chloe found herself want of a more social reciprocity from her apologetic and rather acquiescent companion. 

“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” Chloe glanced at the girl who was gloomily hunched in on herself, eyes flickering over the passing architectural and natural parade of suburban New York.

“Sure.” She shifted and smiled faintly in response. 

“Do you care what I play? I have a Sia CD in the glovebox there.” Beca dutifully withdrew the black and white cased CD and handed it to Chloe. 

“I didn’t even know they made CD’s anymore.” The jesting comment was thrown quietly but it had not gone unnoticed. Chloe chuckled as she placed the disc in the thin slot of the dashboard.

“She’s a comedian! Well, well, well, a real spokesperson for our generation, aren’t you? Don’t appliance-shame me­, this car is too old for an AUX chord.”

“If you say so, grandma.” Chloe was enjoying this new-found charismatic confidence of the stranger she had only met a few hours ago. As the first song began she hummed along to the all-too familiar melody. She had maintained a sort of comfortable fondness for the artist, as her acapella group had sung a few of her songs in concert when they had been together and listening to the album made her feel melancholic, but peaceful. Even though she didn’t really keep in touch with the girls, she still held them all very dear and her sense of pride for everything they had done together was still running strong. 

“Do you sing?” Beca’s voice was soft and monotone as though she didn’t want to ask the question.

“Funny you should ask, I used to sing in college. I mean, I don’t make a habit of boasting, but our acapella group performed at the Kennedy center with one of the songs on this album!” She smiled through recollection.

“Your A Capella group? oh my God, you are old…that’s nice though, I guess. Congrats.”

“See? I’m a cool grandma.” She increased the volume on the controls and instinctively jumped into the harmonies. The conversation dwindled yet again and she struggled desperately for another topic of conversation.

“Do you?” In Chloe’s side-view she saw Beca’s head turn toward her in confusion.

“Huh?” 

“Do you sing?” 

“Oh. Haha. In your dreams.” Her laugh resonated in a somewhat forced manner as if the subject had affected a sore spot and she became sullen within seconds, returning to the window. This unusual air made Chloe question whether Beca’s statement was true, and if it was perhaps more of a self-deprecating comment. After the first song ended and the second followed suit, Chloe’s doubts were confirmed (admittedly to her delight) as Beca quietly began humming the melody underneath Chloe’s higher intervals. A few words through she softly joined in with the lyrics and Chloe was taken aback by a pleasing (if a little rough) voice, harmonizing in absolute-pitch beneath her own. Their tones blended well, and though Beca was singing softly and with little motivation, their phrasing synced well, Chloe thought. They sung past the chorus and as the bridge began, she addressed Beca with amusement and determination.

“You Can sing! You liar!” 

“Dude, shut up. Just ‘cause I do doesn’t mean I can.”

“What the hell? Your voice is great! You know this song so well, it’s actually almost like you’re singing the arrangement we did for the president.” Chloe smiled when she observed she was making Beca blush. 

“Wait, you’re in the Bellas? Wow. I um…I saw that performance online actually. It’s, like, viral, you know that, right? Also, ever since that David Guetta song I’ve been really into Sia.”

“Oh, God, yeah of course I know, that perforamance almost got us disqualified. Wait, you know David Guetta?”

“Dude, I fucking love David Guetta. Titanium?”

“What a a BOP! Are you kidding me?” 

The last chorus came in and the two girls sang and with a litte more vitality than they had been doing so, especially Chloe. As the last chorus faded into the quiet between songs, Chloe was nearing the end of the highway and the toll booths signifying the entrance to the city could be seen on the horizon.

“So, where are you thinking I should drop you off?” 

“Oh, um…I guess the bank on 15th, if that’s cool? I can make my way from there.”

“Gotcha.” Chloe was unsure how to approach the next subject. 

“You know...if you need anything I’ll be there to help you get back on your feet? You can spend another few nights at my place until you have somewhere to go. Also, I can speak to that friend about the job, I think she’d really appreciate someone else at her café and I’m sure it pays well. Now that I think about it, she’s just around the corner from 15th, I’m going to be early for work anyways, I could introduce you two. If it’s too soon to think about work I totally understand.”

“No, yeah, um, wow, that’s so kind of you. I…I’ve already taken so much of your hospitality, um, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done, you must think I’m so awful. I owe you so much, dude. If it’s not, like, encumbering you that would be so great.”

“Really, it’s nothing I swear. You’re a friend now, I’m here to help. Her name is Flo, she was in the Bella’s with me! She’s super sweet, I promise.”

-

Beca passionately inhaled the perfect euphoria of stepping inside Flo’s coffee shop. She had spent so much time in this building her last year on earth. Nothing had changed except for the fact her favorite latte was not on the large chalkboard Manu above the counter, which she didn’t blame Flo for; she doubted very many people ever ordered a sage latte. This recollection made her again dismal when she was reminded that not only Chloe had been made to forget her existence, but also the entire earth and all those she held near. 

The café was small but well and minimally decorated. The floor dipped into the ground as opposed to a raised platform and the ceiling was low with old, dark beams stretched across, between white plaster and strings of tiny warm white string-lights. The counter in the corner was short and littered with large glass bell-jars filled with assortment upon assortment of scones, muffins, donuts, cakes, and cookies. 

The tables surrounding Beca and Chloe were packed with well-dressed people sipping drinks and typing loudly on their laptops and as the two girls gingerly navigated through the labyrinth of perfumed hipsters. Beca finally spotted a very frazzled and frayed variation of her tiny happy friend busily flitting around the tiny kitchen and she smiled in excitement. They finally reached the counter and when Chloe shouted her name Flo turned with a disgruntled looked which quick turned to ease when she saw who had called. 

In Beca’s timeline, the Bella’s intimacy had grown only stronger after their acapella careers had come to a close. Most of them had lived together in some variations of two or three, and they met up often and spoke regularly. Beca had dwelled constantly while she was in the Higher City on whether, if in the universe that had come of Beca’s death, the Bellas had still stayed close or simply grown apart. She had immediately noticed when she met Chloe, how much more subdued and almost depressed the inner layer of personality had been. The thought of living a life away from some of the most amazing people she had ever met, and missing what had been such a huge part of her day-to-day was gut-wrenching to consider, she felt deeply guilty and sympathetic for Chloe.

As she watched the two of them converse, she noted that they still clearly maintained a pretty cordial, if a little formal, relationship with one another. They greeted each other familiarly and then Chloe pulled Beca forward for an introduction. 

“So, Flo, This is Beca! she just got here from Massachusetts and she’s looking for a job, I know you’re a little strapped here so I thought you could maybe use an extra hand and interview her? Or whatever you do when you hire someone in this industry?” Chloe passed her arm around Beca’s shoulders warmly.  Flo sighed and reached out her arms to Chloe in a gesture of gratitude. “You are my savior, Chloe. Work has been like an old man throwing dead-weights into basketball hoops. All these rich people care about is what kind of non-dairy, dairy product they ask for and if you do not get it right they ask for your manager. Which is me. Obviously. I would hire you right now if I had the time. I’m closing the register in fifteen minutes if you want to wait in the back? I’ll be right there.” She gestured to a small hallway in the back of the room and turned to return to her work. Chloe faced Beca with a grin. 

“So, I’m gonna leave you here, but here’s my number. Don’t hesitate if you need anything at all. I work about fifteen minutes walk from here. Text me, keep me updated. I’ll keep in touch, okay?” Chloe wrapped her arms around Beca and hugged her tightly. Beca was unsure how she could respond appropriately other than simply apologizing and thanking her profusely. So, that’s what she did, and then Chloe was gone, out the door and around the corner, bright red hair fluttering behind her in the bitter city wind. 

She had just made herself comfortable on the couch when Flo breezed through the door, still in her apron and lightly dusted with flour. Beca knew the moment she stepped in the café what she would have to do and say. She knew that Flo would sympathize and that she could trust her. Flo sat own at a desk adjacent to the couch and brought out a plaque with a few papers Beca assumed were applications, but Beca scooted to the edge of her seat and placed her palm on the wooden surface before Flo could speak.

“Flo, wait, um...just stop for a sec’...how do I do this? Okay, this is going to seem like a very odd request but can I hold your hand, just, for, like, a millisecond?” Flo’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but she complied hesitantly, reaching her hand to touch Beca’s.

“Um, sure. Do you want some water or something? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, Yeah I’m fine, just...give me a second.” Beca took her hand and held it securely. She needed just the right amount of contact. She closed her eyes and within less than a split second, Flo withdrew her hand with a gasp.

“Beca Mitchel?! Bitch ass hoe, what are you doing here?!”

a/n: sorry this chapter took so long kids! If anyone cares, I was in New York with my chorus performing at carnegie hall, also if Anna wasn't there at the performance imma b hella pissed bc not only does she a) have an obligation to attend acapella and Choral performances, now that she holds the face of acapella in her palm, but she was also b) in NY at the time and I c) tweeted her twice.

side note u should totes write a jongtae based off one being anon or something (noooo pressure just a random thought i had)

this prompt is 10 months old?? yikes. n @orgel-ontae ♡♡♡

And there’s something about it, something that makes Jonghyun feel soft and almost flustered even though they haven’t even really said anything.

It’s been a lazy day and an even lazier night, Jonghyun stretched out in bed, half under the covers with their phone in their hands and their stuffed animals close to their face. They’re warm and soft and sleepy in the way they always get when they lay down after they eat, but it’s that awkward time of night where it’s too early to go to bed but too late to take a nap. They’re sort of mindlessly just scrolling through tumblr, just to keep their eyes from slipping shut even though every few minutes, they’ll close and they’ll start to drift off.

But then his phone buzzes in his hand, startling him awake and forcing his eyes open to read the question he’s just gotten. It’s a short one, but it’s one that makes his heart melt and a soft smile spread across his lips. He almost doesn’t want to answer, wants to keep it like this, his, forever, but he wants a new friend more, and the person that’d asked it seems so cute.

Anonymous said: hello… i like, rlly, rlly wanna be friends w you guys, but i’m so shy and awk with new ppl so i’ll just say……. ily both, you’re the cutest!

It’s to their shared blog with Jinki, and Jinki’s been asleep for hours, so Jonghyun sits up and reaches out to grab their laptop from the end of their bed before flopping back down to stay laying down while they use it. It takes only a moment to log onto tumblr and to find the ask, but longer to figure out what to say to answer it.

kjh: ♡♡♡ pls dont be shy ;;;; we’re both really nice,,jinkis really shy too but i really really like meeting people so pls feel free to message either one of us if u ever want to !!

Even after fifteen minutes, the anon doesn’t come back in their inbox like Jonghyun had been hoping, so they close their laptop and put it back at the end of their bed so they can curl up with their phone again, but it isn’t long before their phone is blinking again with a message from someone on tumblr.

chaitaem: (hi, i said i wanted to b friends on ur other blog and i just thought maybe i could come say hi..?)

And there’s something about it, something that makes Jonghyun feel soft and almost flustered even though they haven’t even really said anything.

petitjonghyunnie: !! hihi would lov eto be friends mhm ♡♡♡

chaitaem: !! that’s so awesome ur so cute n i’m so annoying u’ll prolly get bored of me but !! great 💓💓

And at this point, Jonghyun is kind of glad that Jinki’s not here, because he’d tease them so much about how they’re blushing, how soft they are, how cute, how sweet. And it’s true that they’re soft, but they haven’t even…god.

petitjonghyunnie: i fgdhkj m nOt cute omg n ur not annoying !! promise im ghjfkfgd rlly flustered so i dunno what o say otl ;;;

As they wait for a response, Jonghyun clicks onto their tumblr, skimming their bio and giggling a little. Taemin, they/fae, dancing is like walking to me. It’s simple, sweet, cute. Fae seem adorable, and Jonghyun likes fae already.

chaitaem: ah, me either,, i just wanted to say hello ur v cute i want to friend u,, i didn’t think past that otl

petitjonghyunnie: ! fkjdhg shsu h

chaitaem: ahh, but why would i shush when ur so cute tho??

petitjonghyunnie: shs u sh omg

chaitaem: mmh, but ur bein even cuter?? adorable, one might say

And here come the first twinges in their stomach, the simple praising words already making them edge on fluster. It’s Jinki’s fault, honestly, Jinki’s fault for conditioning them to react so easily to words like cute and adorable and baby and of course, baby boy. God. And it’s not like Taemin knows about how easy they are, but maybe fae do? Because fae do follow their and Jinki’s blog, and that one is…pretty revealing.

Jonghyun shifts under the covers, pressing their face into Roo’s soft fur before peeping back out at their phone to answer Taemin.

petitjonghyunnie: s h u s h thats n ot fair !!

chaitaem: totally fair! if ur bein adorable aren’t i allowed to tell u? ur absolutely adorable!!

petitjonghyunnie: not fair n Not adorable n im pouting at u

chaitaem: pouting? oh no but now ur the Most adorable…

petitjonghyunnie: s h u s h

chaitaem: mmmmh but ur so cute it’d be a shame not to tell u how much of a cute babe u are.

petitjonghyunnie: ;;;;;;; shh

chaitaem: cutie~

petitjonghyunnie: n o

chaitaem: yes! ur such a cutie~

petitjonghyunnie: Pouting At You

chaitaem: u can pout all u like, ur still Adorable

petitjonghyunnie: shhssuhshh

chaitaem: i thought u were bein extra cute and pouting? i won’t shh if ur bein like that

petitjonghyunnie: n ot cute

chaitaem: mh but u must be at least a lil cute if i’m tellin u so

petitjonghyunnie: s t op my heart is rlly weak

chaitaem: if u stopped bein such a babe i’d stop tellin u~

petitjonghyunnie: m not talkign to u bc ur v vv v vmean mhm

chaitaem: i’m bein mean? well then maybe i won’t talk to u bc ur v vvvv v v cute, hmm??

petitjonghyunnie: p o u t i n g

And they are. They’re pouting, and their heart is fluttering, and it hasn’t even been a day yet but Jonghyun’s realized both that they have a crush on Taemin and that they really, really want to be soft for fae.

chaitaem: bein cute so i’m not talking

petitjonghyunnie: mean !!! mad at you

chaitaem: mad at me? but i don’t want cutie to be mad.. just sayin ur rlly a cutie~

petitjonghyunnie: ;; my heart though s very weak

chaitaem: is it all the cuteness that makes it weak then?

petitjonghyunnie: ;;;;;;;;;;;; youre flustering

chaitaem: ur easy to fluster~

petitjonghyunnie: mean for teasing

chaitaem: mm,, not teasin just tellin u ur a babe a rlly cute babe

petitjonghyunnie: s h h that Is teainsg

chaitaem: hmm, guess i am teasin then but ur cute to tease tho

petitjonghyunnie: ;; like being teased

chaitaem: ahh i can tell that’s why ur being such a cute baby..

petitjonghyunnie: ;; i wanna say

chaitaem: hmm?

petitjonghyunnie: wanna say !!

chaitaem: yeah ??

petitjonghyunnie: ;; flustering

chaitaem: ur so cute sound like ur blushing, sweetie, it’s so cute

petitjonghyunnie: m pouting not blushing

chaitaem: ur not mad at me still? when ur bein so cute to me too

petitjonghyunnie: m mad at you cuz i wanna say

chaitaem: u can tell me sweet honey, just say

petitjonghyunnie: ;;; shh Flustering wanna say but its flustering

chaitaem: c'mon, wanna tell me, cutie?

petitjonghyunnie: ;;;; shhshhsh

chaitaem: but u won’t say so if i shush we’ll just be quiet

petitjonghyunnie: ;; i wanna call you daddy

chaitaem: all right, baby, you can call me daddy

petitjonghyunnie: ;;;; s flustering

chaitaem: no, it’s cute~ ur cute

petitjonghyunnie: not cute;;;; flustered

chaitaem: flustered is cute on u tho

petitjonghyunnie: ;; do you have a kakao?

chaitaem: yeah i do, you want it?

petitjonghyunnie: mhm

chaitaem: it’s just chaitae

petitjonghyunnie: ;;; thank u daddy

2* the AvPD

Conversation w/ my friend I mentioned earlier. With their name / identifying characteristics edited out and some chopping here and there. 

___: 

I made a post abt avod once tho and it got like A few rbs and I thought "if this isn't irony idk what is" Trje

66ccff: ekjal;kdjd;

___: 

me: why do, so many avoidants want to pay for being alive avpd Tumblr: hm . I relate

66ccff: ekleja;ejdl;k

___: me: I'm glad to know people relate but are we fucking ok

66ccff: 

LOL i mean mood tbh

___: HINESTLT like I noticed i do it cuz of you NFBNSBDKSBDKSS

66ccff: though do you mean pay as in like. pay the medical system or pay as in guilt

___: Guilt

66ccff: 

kejk;ldj;L yes ok that is definitely me me: i breathed 5 gallons of air within 3 hours i am so sorry world

___:

me: [realizes it's not entirely religious trauma and also probably just Guilt over taking up space and needing to help ppl otherwise Why Live?} 

Oh god me

66ccff: (this is not even ironic i get like this multiple times a week)

___: 

hdjhdjsd I've been having a bad ep lately actually and like I think I failed to look 5-6 people in the eyes today CUZ IM JUST [WALKS AROHND] WOW . TERRIBLE

66ccff: 

omg it's ok i nearly cried in class today b/c i didn't have a good eng translation for this jp sentence

i was like.... no.... don't....

i stabilized cuz the teacher went on a tangent for a second but like forcing myself to look in his eyes and act normal was so hard i looked away so many times i wa slike. oog my god. end m i love it when walking around where there's other people makes me really nervous and irritable agoraphobia is great!

___: 

GOD yea It's so awkward for me I'm fine if I have a safe person or I'm walking to class but like

66ccff: i came back from class today and took a 6 hr nap cuz of my shame and agoraphobia

___: 

Rip Wish I could do that...

66ccff: well i haven't done my homework so

___: 

I just. Cry a lot NDKSJDJDNSKDNS rip me: I'm strong Me: spent the last 5 days like crying over nothing

66ccff: 

dkjle;ajd i mean... i used to cry but then i got mad at myself for crying so now i just Repress (tm) and sleep and then. the joke is that sometimes it doesn't work self harms... oops... that didn't work either better nap again

___: 

zz Pillows keep u safe Idk what I've been doing lately but I thought I was getting better til I realized I was like Abstaining from feeding myself BFBJSBFSJJFD

66ccff: o h my god

___: 

And I was like "oh fuck I'm a terrible person bc someone told me I should eat and j Didn't Do It I Failed Them"

66ccff: 

ahahahahaahahaha i thought i was getting better too but it was actually because i was just forcing myself to study to give myself an illusion of doing my part and then i went to school and my actual performance is like bad b/c i avoid so many activities that would make me better and i just

___: samd

66ccff: 

Wow i want to die!

___: 

hdjsjdjs

I think I only managed to eat cuz my brother was expecting me to

66ccff: tavpdfw you want to be punished constantly so you don't have to have anxiety about existing

___: 

Cuz he bought me dinner like 6 hours ago but I didn't touch it til now BFJDJD MEEEEE

66ccff: dkja;eljd;

___: 

GOD me: ah I feel good today Me like 3 hours later: oh my God I shouldn't feel good abt myself that's so Selfish ? I am trash

66ccff: oh Mood

___: Avpd solidarity

66ccff: 

honestly i love my environmental soicology class but liek it talks about how we're all consuming and putting things back into the environment

___: Idk how I manage to have avpd and __pd but that's how it is on ths bitch of an earth

66ccff: and i was literally contemplating if death was the only way to take myself out from the cycle

___: 

Me Bhhjsfjd

66ccff: 

i was like holy shit. it's not just consumption i forgot i also put bad gases into the air with everything i breathe i am Bad

___: 

All day today I was hearing abt what happened in Vegas and we were like. Talking in my apologetics class abt the Nature of Evil

66ccff: the true environmentalist take is death

___: And I was just thinking "why must I, exist if all I am is bad"

66ccff: 

oh my god same! i looked over my abt page and i was like this looks fake tumblerina

___: 

apologetics: so mankind is basically evil Me: great! I'll die so there's less evil in the world

66ccff: 

me ME

MEMEMMEMEMEMMEMEMEMEME

___: HHDHSBDJSHD

66ccff: 

sometimes i have fantasies of like going backwards and apologizing to everyone i've ever talked to and to everyone who ever had to work to produce what i've consumed

___: 

M. E

m

66ccff: 

and then hoping that they forget about me and then like disappearing forever i jsut can't see how some people can be like oh yeah factories in china and mexico earn less than 2 dollars an hour to make our stuff and not jus twant to kill themselves

___: 

I'm just pathetic and compulsive if I feel bad about stuff I apologize til like 2 weeks after God. Yea

66ccff: 

the joke is that people hate if you overapologize so you jsut damned if you do damned if you dont :upside_down:

___:

me: uh sorry for being sad People: don't apologize for that Me: Avpd:.  They are mad that I am apologizing also that I am sad Hhhfjjejd

Me: 

ME WKJD;LKD "can you stop saying sorry" "sorry"

___: 

me: oh God I'm so miserable Someone: oh im sorry Me: I wish I could accept this but Pity is too much for a lowly worm like me

66ccff: "what did i just say"

___: MMSNDNBHHHHHHGGGGG

66ccff: 

:smile: :gun:

MOOD

___: avpd feel when you don't deserve to be pitied ?

66ccff: pity is too much kindness ___: 

God yea

LIKE probably just a conflicted feel but I prefer ppl being active than pitying me but then I'm like

"that's selfish I don't deserve that ?"

66ccff: 

someone tells you to watch where you're going feel like you're unable to go outside for the rest of the day

___: 

m. mebdbdhdhdjs

66ccff: oh yeah the joke is that i want people to like. be kind to me but also i don't

___: hell brain

66ccff: so i can't say what i want

___: GGG YEAH

66ccff: 

be kind to me except don't because i'll feel invalid either way so maybe just don't talk to me >feels worse anyway

___: 

Hhhhhhhhhhh me Me: talk to me ? But I don't know what to talk abt ? But I am also not good enough for pity you could just sit there maybe But then the presence of another person will overwhlem me and I'll go cry again/s

66ccff: feel free to entertain yourself, and forget about me, ___: 

Mebdndmdkskdjsja god [looks at all cluster c disorders] you are all bitches and I hate tou

66ccff: 

tavpdfw u gotta depersonalize to make it through the day of talking to other people and acting like ur a normal human bean MOOD

___: GOD yea

66ccff: 

i have a question though if im depersonalizing why do i still feel terrible even if i feel ilke im fake smh

___: God me

66ccff: 

me: i'm not real so heres me acting like i am chill and cool person that is interesting maybe or maybe not me, inside: this sucks and i hate this but im not real so it shouldnt affect me but damn i hate this when u feel separate from your auto-pilot but you still experience all the shame you would without it :thinking: avpd is stupid and contradictory and evolutionarily useless

___: 

__pd isnkind of the same but like if you manage it well you can get stuff done but you still breakdown over the TINIEST DETAIL I hate it And I waste more time thinking abt what I'm gonna do and not actully DOING MT SHIT

66ccff: cripes

___: LIKE A NORMAL PERSON

66ccff:

me in high school UGH i'm ahving that problem right now dude in high school i used to just waste my days reading manga and thnking i should do my homeworka

___: 

me: I'll spend this hour scheduling [2hours later] Me: [stressed nbdjdjjsjdjsjdks

66ccff: and then i'd like. start at 10pm and fuck myself over ___: rip 66ccff: have a crying session at 4am every time an essay is due the next day ___: I actually didn't do one of my assignments tonight 66ccff: bad coping habits ___: Rip me I got discouraged over something lame JFJSNFKSNFD 66ccff: oh mood

___:

relationship issues: occur Me: well, I can't, do anything ever again

66ccff: 

i shouldn't even be discouraged abt my classes bc i'm here to learn and i'm just like. i know nothing i deserve to die kejd;kakejd friend, disagrees with you on something you feel unsure about: WELL I GUESS I AM BAD AND THEY HATE ME NOW time to ghost them

___: 

me: [perceives someone not caring for me] me: and Now...what is Mine Purpose...what do I live for...my Friends....have all abandoned m MEEEEEE avpd sounds super dramatic when you separate it from yourself but like In the moment I'm always just [jdut starts Fucking Crying

66ccff: 

i just want to manage to some kind of social work, give my wealth to some impoverished family, and then kms before 30

yeah my therapists in the past are like why... so soon

___: Jfjdjfjdf 66ccff: and i'm just like "why not i need to minimize all my ills on the world and also on the emotions of my family" ___: That reminds me of like. One of my mutuals talking abt how early he sleeps and he was just 66ccff: this is the optimal time look my life plan

___: 

"why be awake longer than necessary"

Hdhdhfjsjfdjdjdband. I was just . Me

66ccff:

because you hate yourself too much sleep :^)

___: 

God yea That's true. Me rn

I should've been asleep like an hour ago but [plays secret of Mana and then mopes]

66ccff:

dude i used to have bouts of insomnia b4 i got drugs that knock me out (and help me w/ anxiety) like.... i would lay awake and every second of being awake was just making the situation worse

___: I feel like I should get meds to balance out my bipolar eps but

66ccff: but then i couldn't sleep anyway so it was a damned situation ___: my parents r so anti meds 66ccff: rrghbh

___: 

also like Internalized ableism That I don't Needthem and So Many people don't need them

66ccff: oh yeah, why do my essay when i can read an hour of garbage romo manga and feel slightly less bad during that time and then hate myself more

___: 

So I Can do it cuz I'm like Everyone Else and not like Those "crazy" people Rifp

66ccff: 

man i don't wanna encourage meds if your side effects r bad but honestly how did i get the fuck through high school other than triggering intense anxiety about all assignments

like... i was so nonfunctional i shouldn't have even been in school

.....

66ccff: 

all accessibility problems are solvable humans are so bad

___: caring ? About others ? What a concept 66ccff: except sometimes they are good but that is definitely not me

___: 

Me

Ok I try to overcompensate w good to make up for inherent badness THANKS RELIGION

66ccff: 

the US is like: here's a pricetag for your life pay up

___: AAAA

66ccff: 

yeah i can see how christainity wouldn't help there w/ the "original sin" and stuff that doesn't quite exist in other abrahamic religions iirc judaism doesn't even have hell

___:  it's really weird

66ccff: 

i'm guessing its bc of jesus like.... y'all binches killed him so now this is life - christainity

___: 

Like. Christianity makes the most sense to me probably cuz I grew up w it but fuck Man

66ccff:  o yeah i grew up w/ some christianity too ___: It's FUCKED!!!!!! 66ccff:  i actually have agoraphobia issues w/ going inside of churches ___: Oh same 66ccff:  :^) ___: I'm actually fairly anti-church just because the current state of them is very bsd 66ccff:  oh yeah

....

66ccff: 

how can someone like me, who is literally not deserving of life, raise someone else

scrumbles

___:

Me Hdjehdsk

66ccff:  ___ we are so fucked ___: 

It's true Life is fucked We, are fucked

66ccff: existence is violence

jeff atkins x reader (request)

anon request: “can I request a fic wherein either jeff or the reader is sick? and the other has to take care of the sick one? thank youu“

warning(s):  just fluff really, some swearing

word count:  2276   lmao i’m sorry i went kinda overboard

a/n: this is my first time writing a request so apologies if it isn’t tip-top, my dudes. i’ve tried to keep jeff in character but idk, i’ve just not had much to base him off so i’m not sure tbh. also, i’d love to hear some opinions/reviews so if you have any, please don’t hesitate to send them my way. 

sorry anon, this took me a while but enjoy ���

requests are open again ppl

it was early saturday morning and you were just stirring awake from your peaceful night of netflix and chill (more like make out and chill) with liberty high’s star baseball player and your boyfriend of a few months, jeffrey atkins. his arm was slung loosely over your midriff, your fingers threaded in his, and you could feel his warm breath fanning the back of your neck from behind. 

you noticed how his muscled front felt a little warmer than usual against your back but you didn’t pay it much thought. jeff was like a sauna and cuddling with him was the equivalent of cuddling a hot water bottle, albeit a giant, soft one that could cuddle you back.

you doubted if there was anything more perfect to wake up to but your satisfaction was washed away when it dawned upon you what was in store for you today– your first interview at a college. and this wasn’t just any college, it was one of the top colleges in the country, not to mention the one you had been working your ass off to get into for the past two/three years. 

you were known to be very clever, a honor roll student at liberty now, but that hadn’t always been the case. getting into this college meant a lot as you had may sceptics, including yourself, to prove wrong. 

with a sigh, you remove jeff’s hand from your body, careful not to wake him, and haul yourself to your feet. deftly slipping your bra on under one of his baseball shirts, which had been borrowed last night after a silly water fight that ensured while doing the dishes together, you headed towards the bathroom to get ready. 

jeff was never getting the shirt back, not while it still smelled like him, anyway. he always complained that you stole his clothes, and you did, but you knew he actually liked seeing you in them. 

returning shortly, fully dressed and prepped for the day, at least physically, you find jeff still fast asleep. you quirk an eyebrow; it was unlike him to stay asleep long after you woke up. hell, it was usually him that woke up first, proceeding to quietly play with your hair or gently stroke your face with the back of his hand while you pretended to be asleep to make the moment last, although you both knew you weren’t. 

“jeff, baby, wake up.” you call out, crossing the room back over to the bed. 

sitting down next to him, you gently rock him back and forth with a hand on his upper arm. “come on, sleeping beauty.”

the only response you receive is incoherent mumbling and with a slight chuckle to yourself, you place your hands on either side of his body and lean down for a good morning kiss. most ‘good morning kisses’ did tend to turn into heated make out sessions with you straddling his hips but, hey, you weren’t complaining.

however, just as your lips were about to meet, jeff quickly turns his head to the side and you end up kissing him on the cheek instead. pulling back, confused, almost hurt even, you cock your head at him with a questioning glance. 

he didn’t want you to kiss him? was he mad at you? why on earth would he be mad?

he shakes his head, seeing the silent question in your eyes. “i think i’m sick y/n and i don’t want you to catch it.” 

when he speaks, it’s in a raspy voice as if getting just those few words was painful. you’re only relieved for a second before it gives away to worry for him. it was the first time either of you had gotten ill while you were dating so you didn’t really know what to do and you could feel yourself starting to panic. 

pressing a hand to his forehead, the first thing your parents always did when you said you weren’t feeling well, you see that he does indeed have a temperature. 

“you’re warm.” you mumble, concern laced in your voice.

it’s quiet for a while before you see determination slip into jeff’s eyes. he moves suddenly, using his bent arms as leverage to hoist himself into a sitting position, almost knocking you off his bed in the process. he quickly grabs you by the waist, pulling you up and steadying you. 

“no, i’ll be fine. go get your things ready, you’re going to be late otherwise.”

he was referring to the interview you had today, and of course he was right, but you didn’t want to leave him when he was like this.

seeing your apprehension, jeff begins, “don’t worry i can still drive you there. i’ll be up in a se—“

“what?” you cut him off.

yes, the plan had been for him to drive you there, as you were yet to get your license, but making him do that when he was ill hadn’t even crossed your mind. in fact, you were rather pissed that he thought that’s what you were worried about.

“jesus christ jeff, how much of a selfish dick do you take me for? of course you aren’t driving me there.” you huffed, angrily. “you aren’t going anywhere today.”

jeff’s lips tug themselves into a weak smile, a smile you knew was meant to reassure you. “i’m fine, y/n. i can drive us there. trust me, i’m good.” 

“oh yeah, sure, and i’m the queen of england.” 

you try push him back down on the bed by his shoulders but to no avail. it looked as if he was going to insist on this one. however, you weren’t about to take any crap from your boyfriend. not today.

“don’t argue with me on this, atkins.” you warn. “lie down, now, because i swear i’ll tie you to the fucking bed if i have to.”

it was unlike you to be this aggressive or harsh, especially with jeff, but if this moron thought he was driving you to an interview in his state, he really didn’t know a thing about you. also the selfless, yet clueless, behaviour was starting to grind on your nerves now and he too must’ve noticed this because he finally relented, laying down on his back.

“hold on, i’ll go get your mum.” you move away from him, leaving the bedroom. 

you don’t hesitate to speak to the woman whom you’ve come to know rather well and, in seconds, she’s in a flurry of concern and worry for her baby boy. she jogs up the stairs to his room with you not far behind, taking the steps two at a time. 

amidst his complains and protests that he was fine, mrs atkins manages to extract enough information from jeff to conclude that he’s probably just got a cold. you’re relieved that it’s nothing serious but you were hopelessly in love with jeff and it made your heart ache seeing him like this. jeff atkins, who normally had boundless energy, trying to put up a strong front in order to not worry you or his mother.

mrs atkins apologises, since she too knows about your interview, but asks nevertheless whether you don’t mind waiting with jeff while she goes out to the pharmacy to get some cold medicine. you agree at once. as much of a deal as that college was, jeff meant, and always would mean, far more to you.

yet jeff being jeff, constantly putting you first, regains his strength enough to argue that you have to go.

“no, she can’t miss her interview, mom.”      

“jeff, for goodness sake, i really don’t care—“ 

he’s the one interrupting you now. “y/n please. you have to go.” he begs. “not that i need anyone to stay with me but since you’re insisting, mom you can stay. i’ll just text clay and ask him to pick up whatever you want for me. he was supposed to tutor me this weekend anyway so he’s probably free.”

that much was true. you weren’t much of an email checker and had only seen the email from the college a few days ago though they’d sent it a while back. when you told jeff about it, he didn’t think twice before asking clay to call a rain check on their tutor sessions so that he could accompany you. you always found yourself doing these things together nowadays. 

mrs atkins seemed convinced. “ok, it seems like we have an alternative so i’ll let you two decide on your own.” she offered you a smile before leaving the room.

once she was gone, you approach his bed and sit down with a small sigh. “i don’t want to leave you, jeff. i feel bad.”

“babe, i’m not upset. i want you to go.” he attempted to reassure you, squeezing one of your hands in his. “i know how much getting in to (insert college name) means to you.”

you weren’t convinced. “you mean more. you’ll always mean more.”

that brought a smile to his face, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes in affection. “fine. let’s put it this way then.” he began, bringing your hand up to his face to press a kiss to the back of it. “you know i’m going to hate myself if i make you miss that interview.”

he definitely wasn’t kidding there. jeff had the tendency to blame himself for things that weren’t in his power to control, and so weren’t his fault, in the first place. you think for a while before answering. “alright, fine.” you sigh. “i’ll go.”

“thank you.” he smiled. that perfect, toothy smile that always took your breath away. it still amazed you how such a genuinely good person could exist, and even more so how you had managed to make them fall in love with you.

“no, thank you.” you squeeze a hand between his head and the pillow, bringing your head down to press your foreheads together. your other hand was still tightly clutched in his. “you have no idea how much i love you, jeffrey atkins.”

he pecks your nose affectionately, still smiling softly at you. “i love you too, doll, but you’re going to get sick as well if you’re this close to me.”

“i don’t care. sick people need cuddles.”

“i’ll feel bad if you get sick though.”

“and i feel bad that i’m leaving you when you’re like this.” you pause. “you just try to get better now, yeah? i’ll be back as soon as possible.“

“ok, mom.”

“jeff, i’m serious.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he waves you off. “just go smash that interview. score me a home run.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the corny use of baseball terminology; jeff was always doing that. shaking your head, you press your lips against his forehead.

“anything for you.”

——

around three/four hours later and you were back from your interview, jogging down jeff’s driveway to get to his front door. you had taken the bus since no one was there to drive you and as far as you were concerned, the interview had gone pretty well. not that you were too concerned about it in the first place, still agonising about having to leave jeff when he needed you the most. 

you knocked on the door, trying to be quiet, as you guessed that jeff was probably asleep upstairs. your assumptions were confirmed when mrs atkins opened the door, whispering to you that he had fallen asleep not long ago. you also found out from her that clay had come over earlier, bringing along the things from the convenience store that she had asked him to bring.

excusing yourself, you tiptoe up the stairs and open the door to his room, all the while being as quiet as you possibly could be. the sight of your boyfriend, laying on his side, dozing softly, brings a smile to your face. quiet snores fill the room. 

he looks to be in a much better state than you left him in. you carefully slip under the covers beside him, placing a hand on the back of his head to pull him in to your chest. you’ve dozed off, still smiling, before you know it.

you’re in that weird state of consciousness between being asleep and being awake when you feel a hand gently rocking you as a familiar voice repeats your name, over and over. 

you ignore it at first but open your eyes at the persistence of the voice. “y/n? what are you doing?” the voice asks and suddenly, it all comes back to you.

“napping.” you reply simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, staring blankly at jeff.

“you’re going to get sick. i told you not to get too close.”

“you’ll have to try a little harder that that if you want to keep me away, babe.”

“y/n—“

“plus, you looked adorable, sleeping there like that. how could i resist?”

“you’re not sweet-talking your way out of this.”

“oh, i think i will.” you grinned, pulling him towards you before he could reply so that your bodies were pressed flush against each other. jeff knew you too well to think that anything he could possibly say would dissuade you from cuddling with him right now. 

you heard him sigh in defeat, mumbling something about how much trouble you were. he can’t have been that annoyed though, as he wrapped both arms around your body to draw you close and tangled his legs with yours, burrowing his face into your neck.

“you’re such a handful, i swear.”

“love you too, jeff.”

Me: yo Me: wassup Friend: nm just bout to watch the mayweather fight Me: right Me: mcgregor or mayweather Me: ? Me: disclaimer i dont know shit abt any of that Friend: boxing match Friend: jst watching it since it will be a thing that lots of people talk about Me: fair enough Me: i am Me: extremely drunk rn Me: have been for the last 6 days Friend: lol Friend: welcome to how many people spend their early 20s Me: cheers Me: it helps deal with the pain tbh Me: dude Me: weird question maybe but Me: have you ever self harmed Friend: no but its not something that works with me Me: fair enough Me: i've been trying it Me: it kinda helps Me: for me Friend: ive done it but not directly Friend: just training slamming my fist and knees into a wall Friend: until i just ran out of energy Me: i getcha Friend: but it didnt do anything Friend: but those times i just wanted to feel anything that wasnt what i felt ever yday Friend: even if it was physical pain Friend: it was nice to feel something else Me: yeh Me: kinda where i am atm Me: been making cuts into my arm Me: to distract from the heartache Me: it helps a lot Me: surprisingly much actually Me: dont mean to be depressing, rofl Me: dont intend to make it a permanent habit or anything but Me: fuck Me: it helps Me: god damn Friend: i get you Friend: but people do it for different reasons Friend: i just want to punish myself Friend: i found other ways to do that Me: kind of on that page atm Me: punishing/relief Me: feel like i deserve it in a way Friend: for me those were 2 different things, it was nice to feel something else but essentially it got me nowhere closer to a positive end goal Friend: or so i've rationalised what im doing now to be conducive Me: yeh Friend: im sure im wrong but Me: idk if im aiming for a positive end goal atm? just kinda Friend: im far too proud, i have to do it solo Me: doing it to relieve stress in the moment Me: you get me Me: ? Me: yeh i get you Friend: a little but Friend: when i did that stuff Friend: i couldnt do anything Me: i know it's fucking stupid and all that Friend: my brain just didnt think straight Me: and i know i aint thinkin straight Me: yeh Me: but Me: it does help. Me: for me, at least Me: redirects the fucking Me: immense emotional pain into Me: slight physical pain Me: distracts me in the moment Me: only real downside atm for me is how hard it is to hide it Friend: nah thats effort Friend: showing it is fine Friend: just make sure you have a solid convo ender to observers who question it Me: i agree personally but Me: my coworkers keep telling me to cover up and shit Me: like im not looking for attention Friend: cover up? Me: im just doing my own thing when i roll up my sleeves at work and shit Friend: do your cuts etc show? Me: yeh Friend: yeh thats stupid Friend: obviously Friend: use your leg or something Friend: fuck knows why im helpng you do this Me: hahhhahahhaha Me: i actually cracked up Me: lmfao Friend: but until you realise better Friend: me saying Friend: dont do it Friend: wont achieve shit Me: agreed Friend: but you need to know you're retarded for doing it Me: heard that a bit much lately Me: just makes me feel spite Me: yeh i know it's retarded Friend: you're smart enough to suffer until you have a better answer Me: aye Me: i get it Friend: you might hate me a little for saying it Me: just dont have a better answer atm Friend: but personally i think you shouldn't be shit sad Friend: this* Me: elaborate Friend: i know its all relative obviously Friend: but tons of people would kill to have the kind of breakup you had Friend: yeh things will be a little tough but you still have someone close (at least thats what we know for now) Friend: you need to thing of all the good things Friend: and think like Friend: ok magic lamb Friend: genie magic Friend: go Friend: change your situation Me: i am Me: i've started working on myself and shit Friend: lamp* Me: am meeting ppl pretty much every day and shit Me: going out more, doing new things Me: but when i get home the rest of it takes over Friend: but would you be doing that if you knew you had no chance with her? Me: id probably Me: take a few days to just fucking sulk to be honest Friend: i mean i understand how decisions are influenced to match your S/o Me: and then try and work on it Friend: but a "change" like that needs to be genuine or its all superficial Friend: and fragile Me: no yeah like Me: ive been thinking like Me: last couple days like Me: as much as i hate that this is happening Me: maybe it's a good thing in the big picture Me: because i'd become so fucking like Me: isolated Me: i was only really meeting her Me: and chilling with her Me: never really met or did anything with friends Me: so in a way it was a wake up call Me: made me realize that i had to water the crops so i could keep on reaping them Me: still have my eyes on the prized flower ofc Me: but it kinda made me realize that she isnt the only thing thats important to me Me: shes obviously really fucking important to me but it really kind of woke me up Me: like a splash of water to the face Me: like Me: "shit i fucking. i gotta get off my ass and meet friends and shit" Friend: yeh its true Me: made me understand how important all that shit is to me kind of Friend: as you get older, you need to always make an active effort Friend: to stay on top of friends Me: yeh Me: cause i was very reliant on her in a way Me: and as much as i want that to be a thing still Me: it made me understand that i can also rely on other people Me: i can also look to other people Me: meet other people etc etc Me: i've come to understand that a lot of the things thatMe: meet other people etc etc Me: i've come to understand that a lot of the things that Me: i originally didnt like to do with her Me: or like Me: "didnt like" Me: it made me realize i was just being a shitter in my own world Me: i actually enjoy a  lot of those things Friend: thats also a tricky thing tho Friend: like feeling that a bad aspect about you needs fixing Me: just didnt understand it cause i was so stuck in my loop Me: yeh sure maybe im just saying/doing that to make myself feel better unconsciously but at least its something right Me: a different perspective Me: like Me: i find myself Me: actually wanting to go on walks Me: i find myself actually wanting to do all this shit i thought i hated doing Me: i feel more awake in a sense Me: so while i still really want her back i think ive kind of found the light at the end of the tunnel in a way Me: a different light than i was originally searching for, maybe Me: but a light nonetheless Friend: i get you Friend: a little advice is try not to mention any "changes" you have Friend: personally its just better if a person realises your changes from seeing it first hand Friend: dont be that guy who promotes himself Me: yeh cause it'll maybe make her think im trying to change for her or something Friend: yeh Me: instead of actually changing Friend: dont advertise it ever Friend: just know what you're showing and how you're acting is a result of work and mentality Friend: if it shows it shows Friend: if it doesnt then who cares Friend: you do you for you Friend: it would just be good obv if the flower gets it without any assist Me: yeah Me: for sure Me: i think Me: if we end up hanging out again and shit Me: i'm pretty sure i'm still just gonna Me: want to ask her to go out for a walk and do shit and all that Me: because i feel that desire now Me: even if i'm making cuts on my arms and drinking like a maniac Me: like i still feel like im making progress Me: even if my current ways of coping with the pain are fucking retarded Me: and im very aware of that Me: i kinda feel like i can maybe learn from being a fucking moron for a little bit though Me: understand a bit better how that is, how the perspective switches you know Friend: yeh Me: notes to be had Me: dont advertise change Me: it gives the wrong impression Me: might make her think its superficial Me: uhhhHHh Me: stop being retarded at some point obviously Friend: tbh a big thing of being in your head too much Friend: is if you're not actually busy Friend: so try and do mre Friend: in the day Friend: tire yourself out Friend: budget your time bette Friend: r Friend: dont yolo days Me: i feel like being a moron and behaving irresponsibly for a bit is ok because this is the most painful shit ive gone through ever pretty much Friend: cus then you just think about shit you dont need to Friend: cus you've nothing better to do Me: yeh Me: plan shit Me: do things Me: make plans in advance etc etc Friend: that might help Me: i feel like Me: idk if im wrong abt this Me: but Me: i think it's okay to be a moron for a bit Friend: personally Friend: i mean it makes sense Me: obviously you're the fuckin logic sensei and all that Friend: but think of dota shitters who are like Friend: im 2k so i dont need to get dust Friend: cus at that point its ignorance after the fact Me: and, again: i'm actively referring to myself as a fuckin moron so i understand that this shit is just retarded Friend: like choosing the ignorance Friend: thats cool Me: but atm it feels like it's aight Friend: but like how i avoid saying sorry Friend: if you keep calling yourself a moron Friend: that word wont mean shit Me: it'll lose meaning yeh Friend: cus your brain will just go Me: i'll just say sth else lol Friend: ive called myself that for weeks Friend: /months Me: yeh Me: i get you Me: stops meaning anything Me: idk. maybe im just not ready to like Me: take the leap Friend: yeh see thats legit to accept Friend: things like that take some time Friend: some wisdom Me: yeah Friend: so you make the call when you think you're ready Friend: some people never are ready Friend: and need the push Friend: but give yourself a chance Friend: to figure it out yourself Me: i think i will know soon enough Friend: before you get pushed Me: yeah Me: i definitely needed the push Me: the breakup was a big push tbh Me: really shoved me in the deep of it Me: like i said Me: made me understand what i value and all that Friend: yeh thats something that sucks Friend: but its kinda nice to Friend: too* Me: yeh Me: bittersweet Friend: you def feel growth once you realise what you had Friend: after you loseit Friend: yeh Friend: you'll see things a little differently now Me: yeah Me: if things take off again with her Me: i'll understand better what i want and what she wants Me: the growth is a nice feeling despite all the shittiness Me: it's some what relieving i guess Me: to understand myself a little better Me: man my coworkers were constantly telling me to cover up the cuts today Me: felt kinda bad tbh Friend: it should Me: cause im not ashamed of them really Friend: you showing other people makes it their problem Friend: because you would rightfully say Friend: hey if you're a good person Friend: and you see someone in troble Friend: you'd help Friend: so you openly showing something wrong Friend: doesnt make it just a hraug problem Me: i guess that's true Friend: so its fine not to be ashamed Friend: but do it for the others around you Me: yeah Me: that's fair Me: i feel like its kind of important that Me: like Me: im not trying to show anything Me: does that make sense like Me: im not pulling up my sleeves as a cry for help im just trying to not get them dirty while i work Me: but i obviously understnad that people seeing that shit is gonna have some effect on them one way or another Me: im just kinda like Me: obviously its not as simple as saying "it's none of your business" but that's kind of how i feel anyways Me: cuz its not something that im trying to show Me: its not something i think people should worry about Me: because i dont worry about it Me: but maybe im just being ignorant Me: or sth Me: idk Friend: yeh you are Friend: just get some bandages and perma keep em on Friend: but again its just normal sadness that you're feeling its no different to a normal breakup, you should try for a week to not to cut or stuff Friend: cus its not a smart way to deal with sadness in general Friend: especially when its nowhere near as bad as just out right being rejected due to failure or anything else Me: thats true i guess Me: idk though. i feel like that argument just goes back to like Me: children in africa and all that shit Friend: yeh dw about that just think he this is how i feel in this situation Friend: so just try and understand why you're feeling the way you're feeling Friend: that'll help you tackle how you feel Friend: and in the future it will make sense Friend: you;ll see the same signs Friend: etc etc Me: yeah Me: i suppose Me: that is true. Me: dude im so drunk lmfao i was actually considering asking you if you wanted to see my cuts Me: lmfoashdjgk Me: complete retard over here Me: god damn Me: ugh Me: i think i need to sleep maybe Friend: lol well i understand why you'd say it Friend: it wont phase me Friend: but i wont condone it Me: nah Me: i get that Friend: yeh that's smart Me: im the same w that w other people Me: condoning is not good Me: but theres a difference between condoning and like Me: accepting Me: i guess? Friend: yeh Friend: but cutting is a last resort in my head Friend: so im surprised you jumped str8 there Friend: but again we're all diferent Friend: ff* Me: i Me: tried it at first Me: because i was kinda curious Me: wondered it if it'd do anything for me Me: cause i know some people that have done it and said it helped them cope Friend: yeh it def helps nodoubt Me: and i was curious cause i havent really found anything to cope Friend: but again Friend: in my head its a last resort Me: havent had any desire to play any games in the last week Me: which is my usual coping method Me: yeh Friend: i see Me: but we're all different Me: like you said Me: i gotta stop drinking Me: rofl Friend: hah Friend: ive heard that a trillion times Friend: its shameful Me: feels bad Me: feels kinda good Me: but it feels bad Friend: lol Friend: welcome to the drunk life Me: hahahha Me: yeh Me: im learning to drink through this actually Me: learning how to pace myself Friend: absinth was a tricky one for me Friend: hate the taste Me: never had it afaik Me: did my first tequila shot tonight Friend: you'll know when you taste it Friend: you cant taste anythign Me: shit was nasty Friend: but that Friend: you could lick a hobos ass Friend: and not taste anything Friend: but absinth Me: shit Me: is it as agressive as gin? Me: gin is fucking nasty Me: like eating the bark of an orange Friend: its like Friend: gin Friend: super saiyan steroids Friend: +10 Me: ugh Me: nvm then Friend: you gta try it Friend: if you do it Friend: have like a single shot Friend: as a first drink Me: how strong is it? Friend: so you can taste it and shit Me: yeh Friend: its the strongest there is i think Friend: like 60% Friend: something stupid Me: ohhh bitch Me: that is nasty Me: aight well Me: im gonna fucking Me: sleep Me: cheers for the chat dude Me: always a pleasure Friend: likewise Friend: nn dude