or the long stretches of comfortable silence

You Are Not A Robot - craptaincold - DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: DC’s Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Ray Palmer/Leonard Snart
Characters: Ray Palmer, Leonard Snart, Sara Lance, Mick Rory, Nate Heywood
Additional Tags: one sided Nate/Ray, Marriage Proposal, Hurt/Comfort, coldatomweek2017, leonard has one (1) feeling and freaks out about it even though he’s been with ray for months, nate likes ray but he is Supportive like a good bro

“Leonard Snart, will you marry me?”

The world stopped. So did Leonard’s heart. Everything around him went quiet. The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity, but it must’ve just been a few seconds. Either way, it was long enough for it to turn awkward, and for Raymond’s bright smile to drop as he realized that he probably wasn’t going to get the answer he hoped.


things I associate with the types
  • ESTP: the earth beneath your fingernails after a long day, waking up feeling full of light and ready to get up, summer evenings, the press of a friend’s hand into yours, tan lines that pop on your skin, the chill of rainwater as it slides through your hair, feet sticking out of car windows, running around backyards as the sunlight fades
  • ESTJ: the jarring echo of a microphone when bumped, mowed grass, a newly immaculate room with everything accessible, the fresh smell of rental cars, neat calendars pinned above desks, new school supplies stacked up in your room, monopoly games, sliding into a perfectly made bed at the end of a long day, unpacking in a hotel room, taking yourself out for dinner
  • ESFP: throwing your arm around a friend, gaudy beaded bracelets put together by your little cousin, the quick pant of an excited dog, the smell of campfires, paint stuck in the crevices of your hand, taking neat notes for the kid who’s absent, an instagram full of pictures of you and your friends, screaming the lyrics to songs as you ride down the highway
  • ESFJ: staying after school to help a teacher clean up, biting your tongue to try to stop laughing during class, a sticky kiss from a child, kindergarten art rooms, listening patiently to stories you’ve heard before, staggering around in your mom’s high heels as a kid, walking around town with ice cream and friends, squeezing lemon juice into your hair
  • ENTP: having to do a group project by yourself, walking back and forth to calm your excitement, desks cluttered with papers, the sound of quick typing, the rush of relief after walking out of uncomfortable situations, lying to get a reaction out of someone, the sting of tears brought on by anger, the perfect comeback, mascara smeared down your face
  • ENTJ: protest signs, pinning magazine cut outs to your wall, walking to the front of a room to give a presentation, the click of high heels, tilting your chair back and crossing your arms to show your disapproval, the smell of paint, friendly debates with loud words and wide gestures, losing track of time and blinking tiredly at the clock, perfectly tailored suits left wrinkled on bedroom floors
  • ENFP: bulletin boards with inspiring quotes, humming along off-key beneath your breath, bare feet on hot sand, pinterest projects, curling ribbon with scissors, sewing your own clothes, improvised road trips, bubblegum pink lipstick, convincing a friend to buy themself that new outfit, silly nicknames, candy wrappers littered on the floor, compliments from strangers in public restrooms, good morning texts
  • ENFJ: cute notes left in people’s lockers, talking a friend through their self confidence issues, cleaning your room at two in the morning, dark thoughts that only slip into your mind late at night, the press of a kiss to your forehead, picking out your clothes the night before, convincing a friend to come dance with you, the hand on your shoulder
  • ISTP: taking apart pens and examining the individual parts, spilling out emotions that you’ve kept tightly wound inside, the smell of rubber tires on pavement, writing down your thoughts to better understand them, clenched fists, research papers laid out across a table, jumping off a rock wall and letting the cord catch you, polaroid cameras
  • ISTJ: setting yourself deadlines, slipping candy to a worried friend, puns, stretching after a long day, downing too much coffee so you can stay up to work, drawing tablets, buying Christmas gifts a month in advance, the smell of grass after a rain, sitting in comfortable silence with a good friend, before and after pictures, old family trinkets
  • ISFP: petitions passed around classrooms, a friend’s artwork hanging on your wall, the weight of a child on your hip, getting up early to see the sunrise, interior design, vinyl albums, sitting on rooftops with friends, detailed journals from years back stacked in your closet, the warmth of a cat curled up on your lap, sleepy kisses goodnight, the walk up on stage to collect an award
  • ISFJ: buying friends gifts for no occasion, old photo albums lining bookshelves, waking up knowing that today is not yesterday, holding a bun up with just a pencil, splattered paint on brick walls, doing homework on the way to school, bitten lips rather than angry words, tentative hugs, the smell of vanilla, hair falling in front of your face when you duck your head
  • INTP: dead languages, long winded speeches that change topics multiple times, sweater vests, chalk boards covered with writing, lost glasses that are on top of your head, botanical gardens, finals week, bouncing up and down on the balls on your feet as you rant, unbrushed hair, library fines, the glow of a laptop late at night
  • INTJ: packing for college, perfectly winged eyeliner, beakers overflowing with bubbles, schedule overloads, chess games that last until late into the night, the feeling of silk on bare skin, locking your door while working, texting while walking, leaning forwards into discussions with your elbows on the table, rapid-fire conversations, makeup lined up along the sink
  • INFP: community gardens, braiding flowers into a friend’s hair, giggles, playing guitar to an empty room, yellow daisies, sudden anger, reading by candlelight, unexpected hugs, empty forest paths, make believe, whispers that you know no one can hear, understanding nods during rants, lifting someone up and spinning them around, the smell of new paper, forgotten tea that’s turned cool
  • INFJ: hanging lightbulbs, thick books where the spine curls inwards, shoulders shaking forwards when you won’t let yourself cry, absent kisses laid on top of heads, lying beside a friend in bed and talking to the ceiling, dessert left at a friend’s door, watching the people below from city windows, little notes from friends kept for years, the key to your childhood diary

For @princemagnusbane. Happy Birthday love, and I hope you have a wonderful day and a just as amazing year.

Having to transport a rogue warlock to Idris hadn’t been his idea of an ideal end to the party. His idea had had more to do with fireworks and a demolition of the rune sculpture.

But as was expected, after Iris had been sent off, Clary and Simon left and Jace had gone away shortly afterward. Isabelle had wandered off with Alec and Maryse was nowhere to be found.

Thoughts of Alec brought to mind thoughts of the ledge and he found himself instinctively heading back to the scene of the crime. He pushed open the door, caught sight of the vast sky, the damn ledge and Maryse Lightwood, fingers knuckled on that same ledge, hunched slightly forward as she stared down at the ground.

“You take that leap and I can’t guarantee that I will act as fast to save you,” Magnus drawled.

Maryse twirled around, her unbound hair whipping around her face. She looked furious, but her eyes… he knew that look, had had that look on his own face too many times to count.

He sighed, thinking of his party theme.

Robert Lightwood, you cheating lying bastard.

“He’s not worth it you know,” he said conversationally. “No man who cheats is worth it.”

“And what do you know about a man cheating on you?” Maryse sneered. She left the words unsaid but he knew what she was thinking. That men like Magnus did the cheating and were not the ones cheated on.

If only she knew.

Magnus cocked his head and stared at her. Taking note of the sad eyes and the proud tilt of her chin. The way she stared straight at him, body tensing as she pulled her armor around herself. In that moment, she looked the exact replica of her children. Showed that they definitely got everything they are from her. Not from Robert. No. Their strength and conviction they got from Maryse Lightwood.

“More than you know. Centuries of living leaves room for centuries of heartache and heartbreak and loss,” Magnus murmured, eyes staring into the distance, unaware of the bright lights of the city at his feet. He stared ahead, seeing only faces and names, of lovers too numerous for some to count, he knew them all though. Remembered everyone of them. Lovers he’d once loved and had thought they loved him right back.

He’d been wrong.

He sighed and looked back at Maryse who was studying him with a contemplative expression on her face, lips pursed and eyes just a tad bit narrowed.

He gave a little bow in her direction and made to walk away, pulling to a stop at her softly whispered words.

“Thank you Magnus.”

Keep reading

snapped strings

on ao3

i dont know what happened today but all my friends started arguing and i spent almost two hours just crying. it was pretty bad. i wanted nothing more than for it all to stop or for someone to show up and just give me a hug

i dont think were going to be ok anytime soon

take some bullshit. the characterizations are kind of shit. i wrote half of this while crying and didnt reread it. im sorry

Marinette lunges for her headphones when she hears him land on the balcony. She wipes her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater — not that it does much with how wet they are — and pretends she doesn’t hear him. Because she doesn’t want to hear him.

She doesn’t want him near her right now.

He knocks on the trapdoor.

She can’t find her headphones in her mess of a bed. Her phone is on the floor now, where she threw it in frustration after Alya left the chat angrily and Marinette’s tears turned into sobs.

She’s just happy her parents haven’t come up to see what’s wrong yet. She wants to be left alone. She doesn’t want him here.

He keeps knocking.

Keep reading

This is for @scarecrowsgohroohraa, who correctly guessed that my pen name is a reference to Bowser.  I was asked to do something with UF!Paps, so I hope you like it!

UF!Papyrus: Icy Roads, Warm Bed


Papyrus glares at you, his eyesockets narrowed despite his flabbergasted tone–as if you should have at least kept a guest room.  Ha!  Yeah, right.  Your modest one-bedroom apartment suits you just fine.  It’s affordable, and it isn’t like you have to host slumber parties or anything.  Your friends are adults; they can go back to their own homes.

But apparently, the grouchiest of your friends cannot.  

It’s your fault Papyrus is stranded with you in the first place.  You had been the one to text him, asking if he had any experience with hot water heaters.  While it may have sounded like some sort of pick-up line (hey baby, do you know how to warm up my pipes?), you had genuinely needed his guidance, and after he irritably attempted to direct you via the phone, he had ultimately given up and driven over to your apartment himself.  After a few comments about not being your handyman, Papyrus had… struggled to solve the puzzle of the hot water heater.  By the time he actually fixed it–just in time for the winter storm–the sun had set and the roads were completely iced over.  

Which meant he needed to stay the night and wait until everything warmed up tomorrow afternoon and the roads began to thaw.  That also lead to your current predicament–sleeping arrangements.  

Your bedroom contains a full-sized bed pushed against the wall for added space, while your living room has a loveseat and a recliner, both of which are too short for Papyrus to comfortably lie across.  The bed would be fine, but…

You shift uncomfortably, your gaze returning to the irritated skeleton.  While the two of you are friends, with his attitude, you ended up at one another’s throats more often than not.  It’s best to just give in this time, especially since he had actually helped you before getting iced in.  "Yeah, just one bed.  Look, I’ll just take the couch so you can stretch out,“ you offer, already moving to grab your pajamas out of a drawer.

Papyrus stares at you for a moment more, before he glances away.  Either his eyelights are glowing brighter, the light casting a glow upon his high cheekbones, or he’s blushing.  ”… IT’S FINE.  WE CAN JUST SHARE THE BED.“

You freeze in the middle of closing the drawer, slowly turning toward him.  ”… What?“

"OH, DON’T ACT LIKE YOU DIDN’T HEAR ME, HUMAN! I SAID WE CAN SHARE THE BED!  YOUR COUCH IS STIFF AND LUMPY.  YOU WOULD WAKE UP WITH YOUR BACK KILLING YOU.”  His arms cross, and he averts his gaze from you to your mattress, glaring even harder.  You continue to stare, completely flabbergasted.  Is he serious..?

Papyrus plops down on the edge of the mattress and begins taking off his tall, thick-soled boots.  He doesn’t take off his socks, but he does take off his gloves, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen his phalanges.  You’ve seen Sans’s countless times–he never wears gloves–but Papyrus’s fingers are long and slender, the skeleton equivalent of pianist fingers.  He shoves his crimson gloves into his boots and then unwinds the ragged scarf from his neck, leaving on his tight black jeans and shirt.  

He’s serious about this.

So why make it weird?

“O-okay, I’ll just go change,” you manage, slipping out of the room without your pajamas in hand and a flush to your face.  It’s not that big of a deal; you’re just sharing a bed.  You’ve done that with friends plenty of times.  

…Only this time, it’s with someone you find incredible attractive.  Even if the two of you argue all the time, it only fuels the fire.  He challenges you, and you him, and you had begun to sneak a flirtatious tone to the arguments that you weren’t quite sure he understood.  This could be an opportunity to make a move.

Or it could be an opportunity to lie awake all night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, while being acutely aware that his arm was close enough to brush yours.  

You know it’s probably going to be the latter and sigh, changing your clothes, and finally heading back to the bedroom.  Papyrus is sitting on the edge of the bed, impatiently waiting.  "…YOU GET IN FIRST.  I DON’T WANT TO SLEEP AGAINST THE WALL.“  

"Who says I do?” you shoot back automatically, bristling over his demand, and he rolls his eyelights, nonplussed.


Arguing over something stupid like that is just delaying the inevitable, so you sigh and throw your hands down at your sides.  Complying, you crawl across the bed to the side closest to the wall and lie down.  Papyrus flips off the lamp without looking at you and lies down.  It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the lack of light enough to make out his outline, and when they do, you can see that he’s lying on his side with his back toward you.  

The bed feels warm with him in it, and you were surrounded.  Your shoulder is against the wall, and your arms are gathered onto your abdomen so your elbow won’t touch Papyrus, but… you’re wide awake, as expected.  You’re hyper-aware of every little movement he makes, and as the silence stretches, you begin to relax your arms.  This isn’t that awkward, you decide after several long minutes have passed, and even though your face is still burning, you manage to close your eyes.  You’re just sleeping with your grouchy crush; that’s no big deal, right?  

When morning comes, you wake up feeling comfortable and warm, like you’re wrapped up in a cocoon.  You must have made yourself into a blanket burrito again.  You snuggle deeper into the blankets, your half-lidded gaze shifting from the wall to your cocoon–

Only to spot skeletal arms wrapped around you.  

Your blush only intensifies are you note that long, slender fingers are gripping the softness of your chest, while the other hand is splayed across your abdomen.  Your spine stiffens, and you draw in a deep, ragged breath through your nose, the events of last night replaying.  Papyrus seemed to have rolled over in his sleep, and the two of you ended up spooning.  You start to turn your head back toward him, only to realize its tucked beneath his chin.  

What do you do?  Do you lie here and continue to let him grab onto you in his sleep, or do you attempt to break his hold and slip out of bed?  Do you wake him up with an elbow to the sternum and never let him live it down?  Or do you just go back to sleep?

While you’re weighing your choices and trying to calm down, you suddenly feel Papyrus stiffen from behind you.  Obviously, he just woke up and realized what he was doing.  You feel his fingers flex, trying to figure out what he’s grabbing onto, and you suddenly see a reddish light cast upon the beige wall directly in front of you.  This time, you know he’s blushing.   He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and very carefully, he removes his hands, slowly dragging one of his arms out from beneath you, while simultaneously backing away to his side of the bed.  You don’t move the entire time.

After a few moments with him lying there, the mattress creaks as he finally sits up, and you turn your head to watch him rake his phalanges across his face and over his head.  He stays like that for a moment, hands on his face and his back hunched over, so you decide to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in.

“G'morning,” you greet with a stage yawn for emphasis.  His entire body jerks, his spine snapping straight and his hands immediately falling.  He doesn’t turn around, most likely because he’s still blushing a bright crimson.

“GOOD MORNING!!”  His voice is an octave higher than usual and comes out with forced enthusiasm.  

“Did you sleep well?”  You sit up, stretching your arms above your head to get your back to pop.  Papyrus flinches at the sound and jumps to his feet.

“YES!  Y-YES!  VERY WELL!  ALL GOOD!  BUT I’M HUNGRY, SO I’M.. I’M GOING TO MAKE BREAKFAST!”  He nearly stumbles in his haste to flee the room, and you’re unsure if you should be flattered that you have this effect on him, insulted that he ran away, or neither because he’s probably just mortified that he got handsy while you both were unconscious.  

Either way, you get out of bed and follow him to the kitchen.  His cooking is, quite frankly, the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, so you manage to shoulder him out of the way and make instant pancakes while he grumbles and sits on a stool to watch.  By the time you’re finished eating, he’s able to look at you without turning red again.  Neither of you mention what happened, both playing dumb, and you watch TV together while you wait for the roads to thaw.

“You know…” you begin, glancing up at him.  He looks relaxed, but he always does when he’s watching MTT.  "…maybe you shouldn’t chance driving today.  It would probably be safer if you just stay another night.“

The suggestion tumbles past your lips before you can stop it, and you mentally wince.  Is it too obvious that you want to sleep beside him again?  Is he going to–

"THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD IDEA.  I DON’T WANT TO POTENTIALLY DAMAGE MY VEHICLE!”  He doesn’t even look away from the television, despite giving in so easily.  

You can’t help but smile.  "That’s right.  You’d flip your shit if your baby got scratched.“

"THAT CAR IS WORTH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE, HUMAN!” He scoffs, the words holding no bite.  

The two of you bicker back and forth, but you’re distracted, thinking about tonight.

You’re going to be the one to “accidentally” cuddle him this time.  

Cats like attention; hybrids are no exception.

Brown eyes stared from afar, taking in the details of the lanky blonde; bright, excited flecks exploding in the colored irises.

As feet quietly padded the expanse of the room, a tail swayed cautiously. The need to pounce burning harshly throughout his being, to the point he may start trembling.

Should he risk being yelled at, for once again disrupting his sweet owners study session? Generally, he wouldn’t care for the consequences as long as he got attention. This time was different, the exams coming up would determine the latter’s future.. he didn’t want to mess with that.

His ears momentarily fell, lower couplet being captured between pearly white teeth.

Upon being lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice said male closing his books, and stretching his aching limbs. He’d been sitting there for nearly seven hours.

The blonde caught sight of him through the corner of his eye, and tilted his head; ‘Come here~’ The words came out softly, a smile settling onto the lips they had escaped.

If anyone had seen the actual scene, they’d have thought the younger flew, with how fast he was on the other side of the room. Small body stretching, and curling up to the male’s lap.

Mark chuckled, watching with orbs of pure adoration, and love, letting him get comfortable.

As his hand raised, long phalanges pushed through dark locks, massaging his scalp; the hybrid easily melted at the touch.

Both fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the peace. Neither of them needed to speak. Silent 'I love you’s’ in each others minds. It had been made so clear, that the three words need not be spoken.

The form on his lap sighed, nuzzling closer to him, and his touch.

Cats like attention; Donghyuck was no exception.

No Worries

gif is not mine

Title: No Worries

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

Word Count: 701

Warnings: fluff

A/N: Just a reminder that themed days no longer exist. I do apologize. I hope you all enjoy this! <3 <3 Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much! <3

This was requested by an Anon: Imagine Gibbs comforting you when you’re on your period

It was that time of the month where you hated your body and what it did to you.  You especially hated the pain and bloating that came along with your period.  You felt disgusting and wanted nothing more than to go home and lie down.

You groaned at the pain in your lower abdomen, letting your head fall into your arms that were folded on the desk in front of you.  Gibbs had been watching you all morning.  He knew exactly what was going on with you.  

The Marine got up and grabbed his coat.  He padded up to your desk, tapping your shoulder.  “C’mon [Y/N].  You’re not gonna stay here like this all day,” Gibbs spoke in a firm tone.  “You need to get some rest.”

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Movie Marathon

Requested by @a-girl-who-loves-disneyHi Meg! Thanks again for answering my request question! I do have another request: a Steve Rogers x fem!Reader one. So, I know little to nothing about Lord of the Rings and since you do it would be cool if (Y/N) was a huge fan of the LOTR books/movies. When she finds out Steve has never read/seen them she decides to introduce him to them. Movie nights and fluff commence lol. And could Steve and her already be in a relationship? :)

Here you are, lovely! I do not own Steve. He is the property of Marvel. 

Warnings: Fluffy fluff

Pairings: Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Originally posted by imultifandomstuff

“Hey, baby. Are you ready for our date tonight?” you asked your boyfriend. Steve smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I’ve been ready for weeks, Doll.” You stretched up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Date nights were rare for you and Steve. Well…uninterrupted date nights anyway. However, Steve had decided that, unless there was an emergency, the rest of the team could handle whatever happened. The two of you needed the time together.

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Waves and Rocks

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 1355

Warnings: Angst, Jilted Bride, Metaphors and Analyzing Life, Sappiness, and perhaps a little fluff

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble and aesthetic for my 1K Celebration, but this one got away from me. I didn’t have a beta on this, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. If you let me know about them, I will gladly fix them. @arryn-nyx requested Fl-angst with Sammy for the drabble, and/or a romantic beach getaway with Sam/Jared, brunette (no face) with warm beachy colors for the aesthetic. Arryn, I’m sure this didn’t go in the direction you were hoping for, but I hope you still like it. 

You felt the air change as you climbed up the large rocks at the far end of the shore. The wind was stronger, more vicious up above the ground. Your hair, now falling down from the tight curls the hairdresser had spent hours getting perfect this morning, now whipped around your face. The dress you had obsessed over for months to find the absolute perfect one was now torn and sprinkled all over with sand. It would never be pristine white again. The fluffy layers threatened to engulf you entirely as the wind caught them and blew them up into your face. You clambered up the rest of the way quickly, pushed the layers down and sat down on the rocks, wrapping your arms around your knees.

You watched as the waves thrashed against the rocks. After all, you had dealt with today, there was a surreal calming effect to the sound of the water roughly crashing into the rocks.  You felt as if you could sit on these rocks forever, hypnotized by the beautiful ocean spread out before you.

As you watched the waves roll in and out of shore you replayed the events of the last twenty-four hours in your mind, trying to decide where everything went wrong.

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Black Coffee and Bad Pickup Lines; Chapter 4

Chapter 4: To Dance With The Water

At least four times a week after work (if not more than that), Moana takes the time to visit her grandmother. A twenty minute drive from the town, for most of which was on a dirt road through possibly jungle terrain (thank the gods she drove a slightly beat up truck) towards the coast, lead her to a small, secluded beachfront hut.

Moana pulled up beside her grandmother’s home and quietly got out of her car. She could see her Gramma Tala dancing by the waves, a good fifteen feet away. The older woman turned her head quickly to find her granddaughter walking leisurely towards her and grinned wildly. She turned back to the water, beckoning Moana closer as she continued her dance.

“Hey Gramma,” Moana smiled as she joined her grandmother’s hula.

“Hello, my darling girl. How have you been?”

“Eh, work is okay I guess,” I’m also kinda-sorta falling increasingly hard for an increasingly beautiful barista who continuously writes increasingly endearing pick up lines on my coffee cups- which I’ve been collecting in my apartment, no big deal.

“Really? No big story?” Tala raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Why’re you acting weird?” Moana laughed awkwardly as her Grandma grinned knowingly.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Wha-I- Gramma! Would I lie to you?” Moana tried (and failed) to keep the discomfort out of her voice, trying (and failing) to focus more on the wide stretch of blue in front of her. The water hugged her ankles, almost like a greeting. Tala shrugged.

“You seem… brighter. Radiant, even. You’re not pregnant, are you?” She joked, elbowing her granddaughter in the ribs. Moana laughed again before the two women fell into a comfortable silence as they danced by the ocean.

A/N: Hey strangers! Long time no see, huh? I know, I know, this chapter is pathetically short, but I just wanted to churn something out quickly for you guys. Sorry about my absence over the last few weeks, today was the last of a period of constant mock exams I’ve been doing at school, so most of my free time had been taken up by revision. HOWEVER, I hope you liked the tiny exchange we see between Moana and Tala!

spirit-gem  asked:

#5 Terra and Namine Friendship please :>


#05. things you didn’t say at all

summaryShe’s so used to adults demanding things of her, with zero regard for her own wishes or comfort, that the drastic change is like a breath of fresh air. He’s giving her time to think, to choose for herself whether she wants to be open with him or not. She decides that she does. [Terra + Naminé, post-KH3.]

Ao3 version here

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It’s Okay To Cry

Title: It’s Okay To Cry

Characters: Winchester brothers x Winchester!reader

Words: 1300

[Sadness, self-pressure, fluff]

You’re feeling sad and your brothers comfort you.

A/N: Don’t know where this came from really, I was in a good mood and then I just got this huge inspiration to write sadness haha.

Your name: submit What is this?

When you got back to the motel room you could already feel a lump forming in your throat. You did your best to ignore it, but you could tell that the mission would be quite impossible. So, naturally, you wanted to leave.

Dumping your bag on one of the beds, you immediately turned to the front door again. Your brothers inevitably caught sight of this.

”I-I think I’m going for a walk.” You declared quickly, before one of them could ask.

”Oh, okay, why?” Sam wondered, and you heard the confusion in his voice.

”Yeah, something wrong?” Dean chimed in, not far behind.

You didn’t look at them, instead you kept on facing the other way. Your eyes rested on your hands as you rummaged the pocket of your leather jacket for your phone. It was there, right where you had put it last.

”No… no, I just need some fresh air.” You shook your head as a further gesture, since your voice was rather weak.

You briefly pondered if Sam and Dean could hear how much you struggled to keep your voice steady, normal. Hopefully, they didn’t, but if they did you at least wished that they would catch on and not push it.

You didn’t give them any time to either react or respond, because you fumblingly grasped the door handle and escaped through the door.

Once outside you started the feel how your eyes burned. You pushed the tears away, you were a big girl, you were too old to cry like this. But most of all, you were a Winchester. And Winchesters didn’t weep.

Your hurried footsteps took you to a remote sidewalk leading into the forest. The fact that it was empty and surrounded by dark trees didn’t bother you at all, you actually wanted to be alone. Besides, you didn’t have to go far to return to the rest of the civilization.

The sun had almost retired from the sky, leaving behind a lilac shade all across it. Apart from leaves slightly rustling in a huff of wind, it was completely quiet. And there wasn’t a soul in sight. By the side of the path, just a little bit away from you, a bench was placed. You stumbled the last couple of steps towards it, and crashed down onto its seat.

Here, you couldn’t hold back the tears. Once you let out the first sob, the tightness around your chest slightly released as a sensation of relief washed over you. It felt good to let it all out, even though you felt silly and a head ache was getting a tighter grip around your head. This is what happens when you keep your emotions bottled up for too long. You were pushing yourself a bit too hard, even you could see that. But you had to, it was the job. Everyone else could handle it and so should you. You weren’t weak. That’s how you felt right now though.

Because here you were, sitting on a bench all alone, in a town you knew almost nothing about except for in which state it could be found, crying your eyes out. The sobs rocked your body as the hot tears rolled down your cheeks. You placed your elbows on your kneecaps and rested your face in the palms of your hands, hiding it. You were exhausted, and this sadness that you couldn’t shake enveloped you, not even for a good reason. Just because, it seems like.

”(Y/N)?” A ruff voice caught your attention.

You lifted your gaze and saw a somewhat blurred Dean in front of you, due to the tears in your eyes, clouding your vision. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn’t find any words.

Dean however sat down next to you on the bench, his eyes worried. He flung an arm around your shoulders, expecting you to curl into his hug. But instead, you looked away in another direction.

”This is embarrassing.” You muttered before you let out a choked, humorless laugh. You were ashamed of how you cried like a little child. You tried to wipe away some tears with the sleeve of you jacket, possibly some snot too in the process.

”Has something happened?” Dean asked, still looking at you, although you wouldn’t look back at him. He gently rubbed your back.

”No,” you shook you head. ”Nothing.”

”Then why are you sad?”

You didn’t have an answer to his question. It was far too simple for him to ask, judging by how far too hard it was for you to reply to.

”I don’t know.” It stung to admit that. And as if that wasn’t enough, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out another sob.

”Hey, hey!” Your oldest brother’s voice was quiet, smooth. He reached out his hands and placed them on your cheeks, wiping away the heavy teardrops with his large thumbs, gently demanding you to turn your head towards him. ”Look at me.”

”I’m sorry,” you whimpered. The words left your mouth almost before you even thought of them. You were barely aware that you’d said them, they just slipped out.

”No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s perfectly okay to feel sad. It’s okay to cry if you need to.” Dean’s green orbs nailed your own.

”I feel stupid.” You mumbled.

”Don’t. This only means that you’re human. Just like the rest of us.” He insured you, a faint, reassuring smiled played on his lips.

”You don’t break down like this.”

”Doesn’t mean I never have and I never will. Doesn’t mean I come damn close.” Dean revealed. ”Maybe it’s only because I don’t pressure myself as much as you do. (Y/N), you don’t need to be so hard on yourself. You’re doing great.”

”At hunting?” You questioned with a small voice. The tears still slowly rolled down your cheeks, but they weren’t coming as fast. And the ones that spilled over, Dean wiped away.

”At everything. (Y/N), you are the bravest person I know.”

A smiled made its way to your lips and you chuckled lightly through the tears. His words warmed your heart. ”Thank you.”

”It’s true. And by the way, it’s better to feel than to not.” He smiled back at you.

”Are you sure about that?” You asked.

”Not always. But in the end, I believe so.”

You nodded, taking in what he had said. Then, you wrapped your arms around his upper body and he pulled you in close, his body warmth warming you up too.

After a moment he spoke up. ”Ready to go back?”

You nodded into his chest, creating a mess in your hair, but you didn’t care.

”Come on then, kiddo.”

When you returned back to the motel, Sam almost immediately, shyly appeared around a corner. He watched you with weary hazel eyes, otherwise know as the puppy dog eyes. Dean nodded at him, while you attempted to smile.

Sam took this as a signal that it was okay to come closer, and he made his way over to you in a couple of fast, long strides as he stretched out his arms, a wingspan of about two meters. He was damn tall, your brother.

As he reached you, he engulfed you in a bear hug. He bent his neck, pressed his cheek against the top of your head and his large hand patted your hair. You clasped your arms around his waist, and in this comfort, a few more tears slipped out, wetting Sammy’s shirt. Although, there wasn’t much sadness left anymore.

Dean watched his siblings hug with a fond smile on his face.

A few moments of silence passed and still, no one had uttered a word since you came through the door.

That was until Sam broke the silence.

”You wanna watch a movie?” He kindly asked in a low voice.

”Yeah,” you sniffled one last time. ”I would love that.”

spacedreamfighter  asked:

Hi, I have been looking for you for sometime, just started following you. Can I request a imagine were the Doctor gives reader a necklace. And it is an ancient Gallifreyian custom, to give your intended a necklace. Basically the pendant is in ancient Gallifreyian writing saying who you are being courted by. And you run in to the Master, this has been driving me up the wall I just can't write 10 yet. I am using the plot on one of the classic Doctors. Thanks for your time.

It had been another close call for you and the Doctor. It hadn’t occurred to you that when you agreed to travel with him so many other species wouldn’t be so civil. You’d just outrun the hexagontals, an alien that strongly resembled fire breathing dragons from fairytales. You and the Doctor had rescued their counterparts the aquanots, i.e. Water dragons, from slavery and dehydration by their stronger brethren. Needless to say the hexagontals were less than pleased with you.

The TARDIS doors bolted open as your foot soles slammed to the main control room floor. With your back you held the door closed, a little singed and smelling smokey but no worst for wear. At the console the Doctor twisted knobs with soot on his handsome face, his glasses on in a flick and his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips. You blew out a puff of breath and then jumped as a weight punched the doors. Before you could panic the tubes at the center began to swish and pull and the reassuring whooshing whirring of time travel filled the space.

“Where are we now?” You asked sometime later, when the TARDIS had stilled and the Doctor was smiling at you again.

“Well, I thought we’d take a moment to have a breather. That sort of thing.” He said crossing the room to put his long fingered hands on the door. You smiled as he quirked and eyebrow and looked over his shoulder. His ancient brown eyes seemed to search yours before he opened the doors and left. For a moment you stood there, thinking of all he’d become to you, and how you’d come to love him so fiercely. You were sure he’d never feel the same, because sure he thought you were clever and kind, and yes he smiled at only you in that way that crinkled those ancient brown eyes, but romance was not his cup of tea.

Your pondering was interrupted when those long dark tresses and gorgeous delicately freckled face popped back inside the TARDIS. He extended his hand and asked, “Coming ___________?”. You nodded, shaking your forlorn thoughts and gasped when you took in the world around you, hands lifting to your mouth in awe.

The sky was pure purple, a mixture of the deepest plum and the prettiest electric violet. The sand beneath your feet was pale pink, shimmering like tiny pearls made up each grain. The waves crashing against it was made entirely of sapphires rolling with white diamonds dotting the tips like foam. You’d never seen anything like it in your life. When you looked at the Doctor, he had that toothy white smile marveling at the delight on your face and by the set of his shoulders you could tell he was quite pleased with himself.

Still speechless you eased yourself down to sit in the sand and he followed your lead, stretching his long brown pants clad legs in front of him, off white converse showing more visibly. Suddenly his hand was on yours as you sat in comfortable silence. You wanted to look at his face, to find meaning in the touch of his hand but instead resolved to allow his immense warmth to seep from that touch all the way to your bones.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, ___________. Your absolutely brilliant, and I could watch your face to see your expressions and see how you take every new adventure in forever.” He said, braking the silence. You inhaled and turned to see he was still staring at the sapphire ocean as he spoke, but his thick brown brows were pulled down and lines creased between them. You’d seen that look before, it meant he was thinking about Galifrey, his home planet. About the time war. It ached you inside to see that face.

He pulled his hand away and kept that serious and deep looking, easing from the sand and standing before you. Finally, he outstretched his hand and you took it happily, searching your mind to find a way to pull him out of his self doubt and despair.

“Doctor I-” you began to say but he stopped you.

“Long ago, on my home planet, there was a ceremony and this custom we Time Lords had. It was for those we loved, sort of like the way humans propose marriage, only a bit different. Maybe it won’t even mean much to you, but we’ve had a lot of tough journeys lately.” He said, those ancient and endless brown eyes boring into yours, one hand in his pocket and concern marring his brow. You were trying desperately to understand so finally your hand touched his suit jacket sleeve.

“You can tell me anything. You can talk to me about Galifrey. I know it makes you sad but you can talk to me about happy things too. I want to know all about where you come from.” You answered, encouraging him to go on. He ran a hand down the back of his head and smiled shyly.

“Right. Weeellll, here ya go.” And carefully he placed something in your palm and squeezed your fingers over it in one swift motion. You laughed and opened you fingers delicately. Inside was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you’d ever seen. It was a delicate chain that glimmered like starlight and hanging from it was the circles and odd symbols you’d seen somewhere in the library in the TARDIS. You were profoundly happy but also confused, what did it mean and how was it connected to proposals on Earth?

Seemingly satisfied with your joy, he then took the chain from your fingers and stood behind you. You weren’t sure if maybe you were imagining it but he felt closer and warmer than ever before, as of you could nearly feel his hearts jumping out of his chest to press against your back. He eased the pendant in front of your eyes and you could feel him connecting the chain.

“Once when these were worn by other Time Lords, it showed others who was courting you. Who you were meant for. Who you’d want to spend your life with. And now I’m giving it to you. It’s mine, it says the Doctor. It doesn’t mean I own you, and if you ever change your mind I don’t want it back. I just felt like you deserved something to mark how you are the end of my loneliness.” He said and tears filled your eyes. He was wonderful, he was perfect, he was impossibly maddening and you felt the weight of what he’d done heavily in your heart. Because you know he’d just admitted how much he loved you, how he’d want you as his companion always. Finally you flung yourself into his arms, catching him off balance as he fell to the soft sand and you buried your face in his shoulder.

“Oh thank you, Doctor. Thank you.” You whispered.

The memories flashed across your mind if you’d been on that sapphire shore only days ago, instead of months. The Master, the last Time Lord and the exact counterpart of your beloved Doctor had you strapped against a metal board standing upright. You weren’t afraid as mad as the Master was, your Doctor would come for you. He always did. It wasn’t until the maddening eyes of the blonde man caught your necklace did you begin to worry. In a swift motion he tore it from your throats and you cried out as he tossed it aside, it skidding across the floor and into the shadows.

“You don’t belong with him. And he can’t save you now.” The Master mocked, seeing the clear and very real fear and distress on your face.

“Wouldn’t say that if I was you.” And you fell lax against your bonds as you heard that soft and authoritative voice. There he was, standing long and lean against a darkened doorway, the silhouette of those messy brown spikes, the blue suit and bright red tie, sonic screwdriver at hand and fierce eyes.

“Alright?” He asked you and you nodded vigorously. Of course you were now that he was here. The Master wasn’t willing to give up that easily though and threatened to blow the entire ship to bits. You panicked but only for a second, because the Doctor had gotten the two of you out of tougher situations.

With a loud thud the power system shorted in the ship thanks to the handy sonic, and your bonds released automatically. You rubbed the place they’d been pressed against your skin and started to run to your Doctor. Before you made it to his safe and warm embrace you heard the chilling, grated sounds of the word, “Exterminaaaaate.” In seconds the room was filled with Daleks and the Doctor yelled, “We have to go. Run.” And his hand was just within your reach. Beans began flying though the air, hot and murderous as bullets, buzzing with voltage beyond human knowledge.

Your mouth set in a firm line and your chin jutting out just so, you slid to your front on the cold grate floor and dove into the shadows.

“___________!!!” The Doctor cried and the sheer fear and helplessness, the edge of rage nearly broke you in two. Fumbling blindly with your hands you finally clutched the metal chain with the pendant attached. You breathed a sigh of relief and pressed your lips to the sacred Galifreyan writing. Quick as lightning you were on your feet again and running to the Doctor. His warm hand squeezed yours hard and he led you down a darkened hallway, the Daleks following and sending death beams at your heels.

At last the TARDIS was in sight and with the force of all his strength the Doctor shoved you through the doors and your palms smacked the floor. You nearly flew back out to help him when you heard the buzzing of the sonic and the Daleks slowing down, their words becoming deeper and slower. For a moment you were frozen with fear and wishing the silence didn’t stretch so long.

At last he flew inside and brushing past you began flipping switches and biting his sonic between his teeth. With a shake the ship flew into motion and you remained sitting on the floor trying to catch your breath. Hands in his pockets he began pacing the control room and you realized he was upset, in fact you’d venture to say he was pretty angry. You were pretty sure you knew why.

“I’m sorry it’s just-” you began to say but he cut you off biting the pad of his thumb just before he began to speak.

“Don’t know what I’d have done. If you’d been hurt. Or worst.” He said.

“I know and I’m sorry. It’s just, that pendant, it means more to me than anything, any gift I’ve ever received. And I just couldn’t, I couldn’t bear to lose it.” You said, tears filling your eyes at the thought of never seeing it again.

“It’s a piece of your home. Of you. And I’m turn it’s part of me, and my home. Cause that’s wherever, or whenever you are.” You continued, meeting his eyes and speaking without even blinking or looking away. Before you could take your next breath his hands were on your face and his lips were pressing to yours in soft and tender emotions deep as space. Your hands fell to your sides, the necklace still at hand as you poured all your lent up longing and love into kissing him back. It could’ve been hours, it could’ve been seconds, but it felt like the greatest moment of your life and it would never be long enough. Then he pulled away and issued you that perfect white smile at full wattage.

“How bout I fix that for you?” He said happily, putting the tip of the sonic to the broken chain, easing his black thick framed glasses up his nose while the light headed and giggling feeling from his kiss remained with you.

Unintended Consequences

Hey guys. Its Dawn back again with more Batfam fic. This one’s for @whore4batfam. Thanks for the idea.  : ) I hope you like what I did with it. 

Summary: In trying to hide his own illness Damian ends up getting Tim sick. 

Warnings: none

The only thing Damian hated more than being sick was Father knowing he was sick. It meant the immediate suspension of everything he enjoyed. Patrol, practice, and casework. He could still read, but Pennyworth had declared sick reading to only be ‘fun’ reading. He’d then be forced into bed, and as much as he enjoyed the warm soup Alfred made or Dick’s visits, the cons outweighed the pros.

The morning he woke with a stuffy nose and aching head he resolved to keep it as secret as possible. He’d learned from previous attempts that simply concealing his illness did not work. It always backfired on him and ended up making him worse.

He had learned and adapted his technique. He halved practice times, kept a water bottle on him at all times, and moved as little as possible. In this way he felt no worse by the time patrol came than he had in the morning. He might say he was feeling a bit better. He kept up the routine for the next two days, even as he felt well before the end of the time. Experience had also taught him that it didn’t do well to be hasty with his recovery.

By day three he was feeling pleased with himself. He’d beaten the sickness and not a soul had found out. That was also when Drake had begun to sneeze. He swore it was allergies, but his face was washed out and his eyes redder than they should be. By the end of the day it was obvious Tim was ill, and not taking it as well as Damian had.

He voluntarily stayed back from patrol, allowing Alfred to bundle him up the stairs and to his room. Damian’s experience with illness had taught him another thing, that sometimes the sickness spread to others. He thought he’d been careful about what he’d touched, and where he’d been. He’d consciously stayed out of the way of others to avoid passing the sickness.

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Character/pairing: Sam x reader
Book/song line: “I want to be drunk when I wake up on the right side of the wrong bed.”

Submitted by: anonymoose ;) ANNNNGGGGGSSSSTTTTTT

Your sister and Dean were arguing about who had won the last game of poker, a fairly frequent occurrence during your weekly game night. You were startled to find that Sam was already looking at you when you looked up from stacking the cards back into the game case. It sent a jolt like an electric-tinged chill up your spine. The best you could do back was to smile at him briefly and tear your eyes away.

“Well, I’m heading to bed I think,” your sister said, yawning and stretching. She stood and wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck from behind, leaning in close to give him a kiss. “Are you coming to bed?” she asked him pointedly. 

Your stomach tightened into a knot. “’Scuse me,” you said with a forced smile. You gathered a few empty bottles and glasses and exited for the kitchen abruptly. 

Once there all you could do was lean over the sink, white-knuckling the edge of the counter, trying to think of anything but what you actually were thinking of… Footsteps behind you jolted you into action. You blasted the water on and grabbed the soap and a sponge.

“Relax. It’s just me,” Dean said. 

You dropped the pretense of washing the dishes and spun to face him where he was leaning against the table giving you a knowing look. “Y/N…” he started.


He tightened his lips into a disappointed grimace. “Come on. You have to do something about this. I know it’s going to suck but–”

“But? But?! My sister, Dean! My sister! How could I do that to her?” you demanded. “I can’t. I can’t do that.” You couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Then you’re going to be stuck just where you are now. Wouldn’t you rather regret going for it than sitting back and not trying?”

You glared at him. “I’d regret ruining my relationship with the one blood relative I have left that I actually care about.” There was a tense silence that stretched far longer than was comfortable before you finally broke it. “I’m going to bed. Tell them goodnight for me…”

“Wait,” Dean called after you.

“Goodnight, Dean.” You hugged him, long enough for him to sigh heavily again and plant a kiss on the top of your head. 

“Goodnight…” he murmured, and then you were gone with a soft padding of stocking feet.

Dean wandered back out into the library to find Sam still sitting at the table, a fresh glass of something in front of him. “Isn’t that like your fourth nightcap?” Dean asked.

Sam glowered at him momentarily. “Pot. Kettle. Black,” he said.

Dean pulled a face and shrugged. “Fair enough.” He poured himself a share of the amber liquid too and sat down across from his little brother. “Isn’t someone waiting for you?” Dean asked.

Sam’s jaw tensed. “Yeah, I–I told her I’d be in in a bit…” He hesitated. “Where’s Y/N?”

Dean was just about ready to scream. “Bed too. Told me to tell you ‘goodnight.’”

“Oh… okay.” Sam drank deeply from his glass, nearly draining it.

Dean raised his eyebrows at his little brother. “Something you want to share with the class? Thoughts, maybe?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

Dean left a beat of silence. “You know, you’ve been putting kind of a dent in my whiskey lately. You think I haven’t noticed? Was I supposed to just pretend that new bottle I bought was 2/3 empty when I bought it.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably and gulped down the tightness in his throat to little effect. 

“Sammy… come on. Talk to me. What the hell is going on in long-maned head of yours?”

“I’m in love with Y/N,” he blurted out. “And it’s a mess. I’m with her sister. I’m dating her sister! And I’m love with Y/N.”

Dean stared across the table at Sam’s tortured expression. 

“So you know what? I’m taking a leaf out of your book and having a few nightcaps… that way when I wake up in the morning on the right side of the wrong bed, maybe I won’t fucking care so much.” He downed the little remaining in his glass. “And I really can’t deal with a lecture from you right now, Dean, so just–just don’t.”

Sam stalked out.

“Jesus fu–am I living in the goddamn Twilight zone or some shit? Didn’t I just have this conversation?!” Dean muttered aloud to himself. “There is not enough fucking whiskey in the world right now for this shit…” And with that he poured himself another.


Originally posted by kitaecat

The Slytherin common room is nearly silent. The usual hum of students gossiping and the scratching of quills on parchment has been replaced by the faint sounds of the Black Lake and the crackling of the fire. The enchanted flames bathe the room in a familiar green glow and set your mind at ease as you lounge in one of the oversized black leather chairs.

Although the Slytherin common room is one of the quieter common rooms, you’re still reveling in the fact that you have the space to yourself. There are no squabbling students, no annoying conversations; just peace. A Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor has encapsulated an overwhelming amount of Hogwarts’ students and gives you the perfect opportunity to complete your Potions assignment without interruption.

Or, rather, it would have. Were you not friends with Taemin.

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Crawl Home To Her (part 3)

part 1 part 2 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1.2k+

Summary: Reader is Steve’s little sister and Bucky’s best friend. She temporarily moves in with Bucky when her apartment catches fire. Only problem is, she has a crush on him. Living in such close proximity with him cannot end well. 

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy!!! Send me an ask letting me know what you think! Feedback feeds the muse!

Warnings: sexual tension, vague descriptions of sexual acts?

Originally posted by agent-peggy

When Bucky stepped out of his bathroom, still wet from his shower with only a white towel loosely wrapped around his hips, he was met with the sight of you sprawled out on his king sized bed.

His gaze lingered on your bare legs as he briefly catalogued that you had forgone the sweatpants he had provided you. The only piece of clothing on you was his favorite Harvard crimson tee. You were lying on your stomach and your attention was completely captured by whatever you were watching on the tv. He couldn’t bring himself to look away long enough to find out what it was. Your face was free of any makeup and your hair was still damp from your shower. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through the soft tresses.

Seeing you so bare, so casually sprawled on his bed, stirred up intense emotions in him. 

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Take Away the Pain

[title]: Take Away the Pain

[pairing]: Bucky x Reader

[prompt]:  Hi!! You have a really nice blog! Could I ask for an imagine with Bucky —lordhavemercy— Barnes and the reader where she and Bucky doesn’t talk too much but he likes her and one day she gets harassed by her ex, Bucky helps her and smut? Thaaaaanks :D

[warnings]:  fluffy smut, swearing, mentions of harassment, sort of misogyny 

[a/n]: yup im writing smut, just weeding out the weak. jk i can’t even handle that much smut

Originally posted by enochianess

           They had barely even spoken a word to each other, let alone gone out together. But it was a special occasion and no one else knew what to do with her.

           It had been a surprise to everyone when Y/n came stomping furiously through the compound, slamming the door loudly behind her. Throwing her coat onto the floor, she shoved her arms across her chest and stormed into the living room where Bucky and Steve had been sitting, deep in conversation about “the YouTube”.

           “Y/n are you okay?” Steve cleared his throat before asking carefully, knowing that she was basically a ticking time bomb when she was mad. “No I’m not okay!” she directed her anger at Steve. “Wanna talk about it?” Steve pushed. A sigh escaped Y/n’s lips as she leaned against the wall. “I don’t know Steve! Do men not fucking think before they do things?! Do they not think that maybe they might be in trouble if their girlfriend finds out that they’ve been fucking five other women?!” she yelled, throwing her hands up in frustration as she spoke.

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