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#cuddle fic
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tenth Doctor & Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor & Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Ninth Doctor (Doctor Who) Additional Tags: Regeneration Angst (Doctor Who), Post-Regeneration (Doctor Who), Platonic Cuddling, Though Rose is mildly horny because who wouldn't be Summary:
After the Doctor's regeneration, Rose finds her usual remedy for a good night's sleep is...challenging, to say the least.
Or: Doctor & Rose cuddle fic with a bit of horniness for flavor.
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ghouletteanon · 1 year
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same anon from 2 seconds ago, i have TWO prompts
19 (cuddling) with mountain and cirrus, and i still don’t have a song
<33
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I mentioned it before, I'm combining these prompts to make a ghoul pile because the more the merrier.
Summary: Prompt 19 - Cuddling. Cirrus, Mountain and Swiss have a kids free spa night back at the hotel when the rest of the pack are out on town supervised by Aether and Copia. No rating.
Word count: 587
A glass of red wine, all Cirrus' favorite skin products and nowhere else to be.
Cirrus wraps the fluffy white bathrobe around her and starts the 10-step skin routine she indulges in on nights like this. She can hear Mountains’ favorite calm playlist through the door to their shared hotel room as she washes her face. Swiss is taking a bath and Cirrus assumes Mountain is enjoying having the room to stretch out properly in his unglamoured form and practice yoga without being interrupted by yet another menial request.
The rest of the ghoul pack are out painting the town red and causing chaos wherever they are stopping on tour. Copia and Aether are in charge so for once Cirrus, Mountain and Swiss have time to relax and recover instead of running after their packmates and putting out fires. Both figurative fires and literal fires, when it comes to Dew.
Cirrus is finishing her routine when she hears Mountain switch the playlist from nature sounds to Enya, notifying her that Mountain is done with the yoga. Swiss and Cirrus are both sworn to secrecy to never tell Dew about the amount of Enya that’s involved in the evenings lovingly referred to as kids free nights.
Cirrus dries her hands, goes over to the bathtub and kisses the top of Swiss’ head, right between the horns. The other ghoul is barely visible, the water surface being completely covered with an unholy amount of bath foam. Swiss hums in response, his eyes closed underneath a sheet mask, a beer can with a reusable straw in hand. Cirrus knows better than to disturb Swiss when he is having self-care time.
Mountain is on the bed, a plethora of different nail polish bottles spread in front of him on a towel. Cirrus finds it adorable how mindful he is about not causing a mess even when he’s only responsible for himself. Cirrus sits down next to him, graceful and not spilling any of the wine. She might be using her powers to keep the wine in the glass when she curls up and leans against Mountain, but Mountain is too focused on his task to look up.
“Found the right color yet, Mount?” Cirrus asks, taking a sip from her glass. Not a bad wine. Much better than the sweet stuff Cumulus keeps buying.
“I think this green one with that yellow for me,” Mountain points at the bottles in front of him. “For you, the deep red and the one with the gold flakes?”
“Sounds good to me,” Cirrus does not really care. She trusts Mountain to know which colors work for her. The rest of the pack assume she’s the one doing all the nail painting during their kids free nights, but it was Mountain with his eye for details who was behind the pedicures and manicures.
Swiss joins them later. Mountain has finished painting both his and Cirrus’ nails by then, and the only bottles that are left on the bed are a purple one and a top coat with holographic flakes that have always been Swiss’ colors. Once all nails are painted and dried with a little help from Cirrus’ element they end up in a pile in the middle of the bed with Mountain in the middle. They have until morning before they need to be the responsible ones.
The Enya playlist is still on, and Mountain hums along as he threads his fingers through Swiss’ and Cirrus’ hair.
It’s a good night.
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ecoamerica · 19 days
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randonauticrap · 1 year
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🥰 ~ with Clavis Lelouch (Christmas Twist!)
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Part of the Kiss, Hug, or Cuddle? event
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Pairing ~ Clavis Lelouch x Reader
Word Count ~ 1938
Author's Note ~ I have no idea what happened, but I got sooo carried away with this one. Thank you for the request, Mary Ellen (@rhodolitesrose)! It was a joy to write, and I hope you enjoy it!
Christmas twist: keeping each other warm
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You much preferred your room; quiet, peaceful, and beautiful. The window sill in your room at the palace was big enough for you to sit in, perched on the precipice between the inside and outside worlds, with only a thin veil of glass separating you. Sometimes, like in the current winter chill, you breached the wall of glass and pushed one side open, letting the crisp breeze of the night air reach your legs under the blanket. It was snowing, everything was frozen, even you. But that didn’t stop you from letting the fine, ephemeral flakes swirl into your bedroom before hitting your blanket; the carpet; the bed; and sticking, then slowly melting into nonexistence. Snow was a beauty you didn’t get to see often, and if getting to see its beauty up close meant freezing your limbs, so be it. 
A soft knock at your door pulled you from your reverence and you padded, sock-footed, over to the door and opened it to reveal a certain plum-haired prince in your doorway. “Good evening, Clavis.” you gathered him in your gaze, searching for any obvious clues as to why he had arrived here like a lost puppy at some poor unwitting woman’s doorstep.
“I couldn’t help but notice, my lady, that you have your window open despite it being unbearably cold outside.” Mischief glinted in his eyes and you stepped back involuntarily. 
“I do, yes.” you replied hesitantly. “Were you watching me from the garden?”
“Mhm,” he hummed, taking the space between you as a sudden invitation to cross the threshold, and strolled over to said open window. “But what’s the point if you can’t sprawl out in it, am I right? Tsk tsk.” he chided, the ghost of a smile haunting the faux disappointment on his face. 
Whereas normally yours and Clavis’s ideas of fun were vastly different, you couldn’t help but agree with him here, and let out a soft sigh. “Sariel would kill me. It’d be too easy for me to get sick and fall behind in my studies.” 
“Well then, little kitten.” Clavis turned abruptly to face you. “Isn’t it just perfect that Sariel isn’t here right now?” 
“You know he has eyes everywhere, Clavis.” you admonished.
The 3rd Prince’s grin widened into that Cheshire smile you were so used to seeing blooming on his lips. “Not in the places I know about. Come on! We’re gonna have some fun tonight, and Mr. Grumpypants will be none the wiser.” Before you could even consider disagreeing, your hand was folded in Clavis’s and he was tugging you out the door. 
You should have been rolling your eyes; you should have been concerned about what Clavis was up to; you should have missed the novel you had left discarded on your window sill. But all you could think about, as a blush crawled its way up your neck and face, is how soft Clavis’s hand felt as he laced his fingers with yours, and how your heart lurched at the idea of him letting go. 
Squeezing through a cabinet in the kitchens, down back stairs that had no flames to light their descent, through a small alleyway between two of the palace towers, and down into the courtyard below, Clavis led you, taking care to keep you upright and unharmed. “It would ruin the fun if we had a blood trail,” he had said, but a small piece of you hoped he simply wanted to keep you from getting hurt. You yelped in surprise when he lifted you off your feet and settled you into his arms, bridle-style. 
“Shhh!” he chuckled softly. “Don’t wake the guards. The Devil will really have our heads then!” he was chastising you, but there was mirth in his gaze, and you tucked your head in his neck to keep from giggling foolishly. 
“So why are you carrying me?” you whispered into the warm skin of his neck.
“This way, there’s only one set of footsteps leading out of the castle, not two. No incriminating evidence of you disobeying orders, milady. Just me.” you could feel his triumphant grin without even looking at him, and snuggled closer to his chest. 
“And you’re okay with that?” you whispered again.
“Of course!” he replied under his breath. “I am an expert at evading the Devil’s wrath.” 
“And what of your secret passageway? It’s practically ruined now.” you murmured, almost feeling guilty at the absurd notion.
“I have plenty.” came his simple reply, and your guilt vanished instantaneously. Of course he did. After several moments where you heard nothing but the crunch of Clavis’s shoes in the snow and the consistent beat of his heart against your ear, you reached a secluded part of the garden that he had shown you once before, in the spring. The wrought iron gate was decorated in a collection of icy flakes, making it sparkle and shimmer in the pale moonlight. Even in the winter, this tiny corner was ripped straight from the pages of a fairytale. You had every intention of walking in yourself, but Clavis made no moves to put you down as he fiddled with the key in the lock to the gate, merely shifting you so he could hold you with one arm instead of two. 
Your giggle finally escaped your lips and you clapped your hands over your mouth, until you looked down at Clavis, who had ceased in his war with the gate and was gazing up at you with- no, it couldn’t be, could it? Your hands lowered from your face absentmindedly, gravity returning them to where they belonged. Clavis’s smile was no longer that of an unruly wildcat, but of an arduous lover, and suddenly this rendezvous felt forbidden in a different way entirely. A clank beside you pulled his gaze from you at last, and he cast his eyes down at the lock that had haplessly fallen from the gate. “Shoddy piece of rubbish,” he mused, shaking his head. 
A moment later he had whisked you inside and closed the gate behind you, setting you down with a distinct crunch as your sock feet collided with the wet snow. “Ah!” you yelped at the stinging cold and hopped over to the bench in the center of the alcove, brushing the mound of snow away and sitting down, much preferring your rear to freeze than your feet. Clavis laughed, trudging over to you. 
“What a show you always give me,” he muttered, a tender smile on his face as he pulled a pair of slippers from his coat. 
“How did you-?” you muttered.
“I wasn’t planning on letting you say no.” he grinned up at you as he bent in front of you and took your foot into his hand, eliciting a surprised gasp from you. Winking, he slipped the shoes onto your feet and shrugged off his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders instead and tying it at the base of your throat. It was warm, and smelled like him: lavender with a hint of cinnamon that drew you to close your eyes and absorb it without any other sensory distraction. When you opened your eyes, he was leveling you with that look again; the look that stoked a fire inside of you, hot enough to burn away the remnants of the chill.
“Clavis-”
“How do you like the snow?” His sudden and sharp change of pace threw you out of orbit and you sputtered for a moment, unsure of what to say. 
“I- uhm, it’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me out here.” you replied, at last forming a coherent sentence. 
“Good, I’m glad you like it.” he turned away from you, as though he were admiring something within the bushes, then he bent low like he was examining something. 
“Clavis, what are you- ah!” you screeched as a splat of something distinctly cold and wet hit your cheek. Upon recovery, you realized that Clavis had flung a snowball at you, and was now grinning cheekily at you from where he stood. Once the shock wore off, you began to laugh; an unruly, unfettered laugh that very well could have carried on the wind to the palace guards. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, because you were already picking up a snowball of your own to hurl back at the 3rd Prince, who livened up immediately once he was sure the game was on. 
Snow was volleyed back and forth, defensive walls were made, and laughs exchanged. The snow had long since ceased its descent from the sky by the time the white flag was raised, and you were a mess of wet snow and incessant giggles. You met Clavis in the middle of the alcove and shook his hand in mutual surrender, then the prince burst into laughter too. “Alright, let’s get you inside before you catch your death - or I catch mine.” he said with a more serious tone. You nodded, remembering his weak constitution, and let him lead you back to the gate. But before he exited, he turned, holding his arms out. “No evidence, remember?” he smirked and you tittered, nodding. He hoisted you into his arms once more and you laid your head against his chest without even thinking. You heard his melodic chuckle above you and you realized what you had done. Despite the fact that your cheeks were burning, and not from the cold, you didn’t move. You laid against him willingly the whole way back to the castle, snuggling as close to his damp skin as his clothes would allow. 
Once you were back at the door to your room, he made a little mockish bow. “Milady,” he said curtly and turned to leave. But your hand shot out without warning even you, and your fingers curled around his bicep. He turned to look at you, surprise written in his shadow-cast features.
“Do- do you want to warm up?” you asked sheepishly. “I can light the fire in here. It gets warm pretty fast.” A beat of silence. Two. Perhaps you were mistaken? Perhaps the heat between you was yours alone. You loosened your grip on his arm and pulled your own back to your body, subconsciously curling into yourself. “I apologize. I crossed a line. Goodnight Pr-” but before you could even finish the word, he had pressed up against you, pushing you to step back until he stood in the room with you. 
“I’d love to.” he murmured softly, tracing your features with his perceptive gold eyes. “Warm up.” he added, his voice barely above a whisper, and your heart began to race.
“Okay,” you replied, a small smile catching your lips up in your heart’s erratic hoping.
That is how the night ended with a roaring fire in your fireplace, and two bodies tangled closely together under the covers of your bed, fingers tracing every available inch of skin with reverence and vulnerability, and lips gracing lips with unspoken words of ardor and desire. The cold had melted away in the arms of the man that never failed to make you smile, and you snuggled impossibly closer to him, your heart swelling when he beat the odds of pulling you in even more, his hand crawling under your nightshirt to splay his palm against your back, his touch as smoldering as his eyes before they closed so he could kiss you again. You sighed, relinquishing your will in the long battle against sleep, and drifted into a world where no number of beautiful dreams could possibly contend with your reality in Clavis’s arms.  
~
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larz-barz · 6 months
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Fanfic req <//333 Maki x tanjiro ?? (idk if ur okay with this or not but i hope you are)
#Larz is coolz
Dw it’s ok! i don’t mind! the whole war thing over tanjiro is just a joke lol, i actually wouldn’t care if you posted Tanjiro x Maki content:)
#Maki is coolz
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Silly cuddles
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Maki ran through the butterfly mansion to Tanjiro’s patient room.
She busted the door open and Tanjiro looked at her, smiling sleepily.
“Hi, hun. What’s up?” He questioned sleepily.
Maki crawled onto the bed with him.
“Cuddle?” Is all she said and Tanjiro chuckled, wrapping his muscular arms around her.
Maki hummed contentedly, snuggling into Tanjiro.
Just as Tanjiro starts to doze off, he feels his nose get poked then a whispered “Boop.” followed by a fit of giggles.
Tanjiro’s eyes open and Tanjiro smirks, booping her nose back.
They spend the next minute or so just booping each other’s noses.
Tanjiro stares into Maki’s eyes lovingly, she doesn’t even notice him reaching to tickle her sides.
By the time she notices, it’s already too late, Maki starts laughing and trying to push him away (playfully ofc, she actually loves it tbh).
Tanjiro stops after a minute.
After those exciting few minutes, Tanjiro and Maki both fall asleep clinging to each other.
~the end~
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nobrakesdown · 2 years
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The fact that I wrote 1.5k of a Galex+Daniel h/c fic with dom/sub undertones and then was going to forget about it. Insanity.
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azuretiger · 4 months
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Post wci comfort. Zoro always knows what's going on around him. Always.
ko-fi
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omi-boshi · 28 days
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"I don't recall agreeing to be a glorified weighted blanket when I decided to come over." Kiyoomi chuckles from his place on your chest, legs tangling with your own, arms curled around your back. You kiss his forehead, your smile mirroring his. "You didn't? I thought it came with being a boyfriend?" "What? Crushing the love of my life with my entire body weight? I think I missed the patch notes for that update." He teases. "Oh, shut it, you loser." You roll your eyes, pulling his head closer to your chest to smother his laughter. "Just cuddle me. Please." "No," He huffs out his dissent, softened around the edges by the motions of your hands in his hair, and all the while his arms tighten around you. "You're asking for a lot after calling me a loser." You feel rather than hear his words as he mutters them into your — his — shirt. "I'm sorry, you big baby." The snort he lets out in response pulls your grin wider. "Whatever shall I do to regain your favor once more?"
He pinches you lightly for your dramatics; your exaggerated posh tone startling into a yelp. "Pancakes would be nice." A sharp inhale punctuates his words as you tug his hair harshly in retaliation, before smoothing it out in apology. "Only if we can go out and have ice cream after." "And of course, I'm paying since you'll conveniently 'forget' your wallet, huh?"
"That was one time!" He chuckles at your outburst. Turning his head just enough to leave a kiss on your collarbone, he halts your tirade before the words even have the chance to form in your throat. "Of course, baby." Then, he places one last placating kiss under your chin before both of you succumb to the coziness of the atmosphere.
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foolishlovers · 23 days
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Where a Canvas Blooms by foolishlovers
It’s an Arrangement. Aziraphale knows this. He knows a lot of things, and others he doesn’t, but the most important things, he knows. He knows that the cheeky redhead in his arms smiles and purrs when he runs his fingers through his hair, knows that Crowley’s hands are rough from working outside, knows the softness of his heart. Aziraphale doesn’t know he’s in love with Crowley until he does. But it’s just an Arrangement. Is it? Part 1 of The Cuddle Arrangement
word count: 3.8k rating: T relevant tags: Human AU, Trans Aziraphale, Trans Crowley, Touch-Starved Aziraphale, Touch-Starved Crowley, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Comfort, Pining art by the wonderful @omens-for-ophelia
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classicalchan · 5 months
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liar
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pairing: bangchan x f! reader
rating: sfw
tags: sharing a bed, just pure softness, cuddling, best friends to lovers, pining, confessions, tired chan
wc: i'm too lazy to count but idk it's probably 2k 😭(I'm definitely wrong)
your doorbell rings when it's close to midnight, its sound reverberating through every corner of your little apartment. your socked feet carry you from bed to the door on autopilot. you weren't sleeping, but you were nearly there.
you open up your front door and off-white light from the hallway spills shamelessly into your dark living space. Chan stands there, bag slung lazily across his shoulder, eyes droopy with sleep.
"they borrowed my place for a party i don't wanna be at," he declares. "I'm sleeping here."
he walks in without waiting for an answer, wrapping you in a quick, one-armed hug for a greeting on his way. his bag finds its place on your couch. he switches a couple of lamps on here and there and fixes a photo frame on his way to your bathroom with a towel and some clothes in hand.
you kind of like how it's so natural for him to be at your place. like he belongs here. like he could live here.
you wished he would.
you lay back in bed, shifting to a side, leaving the rest of the space for Chan. ever since you first cuddled up with him a few months ago, it became an unspoken rule between you to always sleep cuddled up when alone.
it was one of the best parts of your friendship with him. you could abandon every care in the world when he was around and just be. He was always there- gentle, warm, protective, kind. everything you wished for in a man.
everything you can't have.
it had been weeks since you had gone to bed without thinking of him. even in the face of extreme exhaustion and no contact, Chan never failed to slip into your thoughts. he needed to compensate you for all the nights you couldn't sleep just because he did something adorable during the day and you wouldn't stop thinking about it.
he needed to apologize for every time you accidentally called one of your friends by his name, just because he wouldn't leave your head.
and he needed to desperately make up for nights like these. nights when he would touch you and let you touch him, but never enough. there was always a weighted, invisible boundary you hated with all your guts. a burning line you couldn't cross.
so, over the days, you had learned to make peace with what you got, no matter how little. you had learned to make the most of his arms around you, the firmness of his torso pressed to your back, the warmth of his breathing behind your ear, his occasional sleepy rambling.
sometimes he said your name.
before you knew it, the mattress dips beside you, the familiar scent of Chan's shampoo filling up your senses. you came alive a little.
his arm slips across your middle, pulling you as close as humanly possible into the abyss that was his warmth. you could spend an eternity here without a syllable of protest falling from your lips.
“i don’t have a shirt on, is that okay?” he mumbles into your hair.
more than okay, you wanted to say but for the sake of the friendship you had spent years building, you resorted to a small hum. he usually slept barely clothed, but when with you, he always asked. he made sure never to cross any lines. he was cautious, reserved. too far.
“is everything okay?” you ask. “you usually do not turn down a chance to party.”
you feel him move behind you, long fingers fiddling with the thin fabric of your t-shirt. he yawns like a puppy.
“i’d had a busy day,” he begins. “i needed some sleep and you know how bad i am at getting to sleep alone...”
his knuckle accidentally brushes your navel. you shiver.
“…besides you weren’t there. i’ve missed having you around y/n, now that i see it.”
your skin flushes hot, lips involuntarily swelling into a smile. you turn your face into your pillow, determined to bury your happiness into the fluff.
“i’ve missed you too,” you confess.
his blunt nails graze against your flesh again, and you wonder how much of it was accidental anymore. could Chan tell? did he know how down bad you were for him?
“liar,” he whispers, squeezing your body lightly into his own.
he liked to do that, you had noticed. almost as if finding a way to inch closer, as if making up for the fact that there would always be some molecular distance between you no matter what.
or maybe you were just reading too much into it.
you place a hand over his own, fingertips drawing subtle lines into his pale skin, tracing the veins you stared at shamelessly in broad daylight.
“you really think i’d lie to you?”
“you wouldn’t?” he asks.
you turned around, facing him. your hand settles on his bare chest. you could feel his heart beat beneath your touch.
“no,” you confirm. “never.”
he smiles, his hair getting into his eyes as he puts his forehead against yours.
“okayyy,” he giggles. “tell me something then, since you claim to not lie.”
your heart picks up pace, hammering beneath your chest, and you were half afraid Chan might hear it. you swallow thickly, a small lump forming in your throat.
“yeah?”
his gaze wraps over you like a veil, clouding everything else just enough that he is all you can see.
"do you like me?" he whispers.
the question drops in your heart and sinks into your gut. you've been caught, red-handed. but you were so careful, so vigilant, looking but never for too long, complimenting him but being careful not to flirt, telling him you love him when he needed to hear it but taking care to conceal the love you felt.
you want to play it cool. you're scared of how it's going to go.
"duh," you say. "of course i like you, why else would we be friends?"
he clicks his tongue, a soft laugh escaping his lips. he drops a light kiss on your forehead and you sigh.
"you're not that naive," he states. "come on, I'll wait for you."
you feel your cheeks heat up. it gets harder by the second to stay still, not with chan's fingers rubbing warmth into your back, his face so close you could steal a kiss. he was no fool. he never had been. who did you think you were hiding from?
"i..." you begin, your mouth drying up. "yeah."
you feel his marble fingers slip under your chin. pressure, soft but commanding, forced you to look at him.
"you what, sweetheart?"
the endearment sent you spiraling. you squeeze his muscled shoulder, fingers digging into flesh.
"don't be an ass," you say. "i'm not gonna say it."
he chuckles. you watch his gaze move across your face, settle on your lips, and then back to your eyes again. you didn't want to think ahead of yourself.
you didn't want to break your heart.
he leaned in, his arm circling around your waist, his mouth leaving a soft kiss to your temple. you could die like this and it wouldn't be so bad.
"please," he whispers. "you said you'd be honest."
and who were you to turn down chan with his gentle voice and sturdy hands and body warmth and huge heart and ---? you could go on forever.
you grind your teeth together unconsciously, draw in a deep breath, and sigh. he knows you're giving in.
"i do like you," you admit finally. "so much more than a friend."
his palm slides up your back and finds your hair, long fingers gripping them and pulling you in. he smiles when he kisses you- mouth tasting of cinnamon and longing and want.
"fucking finally," he breathes. "you've got no idea how long i've waited for this."
you melt into a caramel puddle in his hands. you lean in again, pressing your lips onto his like he'd disappear, like this is all you've got.
taglist: @tinysoftie
NAVIGATION
join the taglist <3
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brie-annwyl · 6 months
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Fic idea things <3
Jason coming back to get revenge and seeing Bruce at his grave, talking to his headstone saying things like “you have a wonderful new brother, his name is Tim. I think you would’ve loved him.” And “Never tell Dick, but you were and probably always will be my favourite, Jay.” And Jason realizes oh fuck, I’m not ready for this emotional moment and I don’t even want revenge anymore. So he just continues to be Red Hood and sticks to crime alley until the Bats (Bruce, Tim, Dick, etc) get kidnapped and he’s like, oh fuck, now I HAVE to deal with this emotional bs.
Bruce just immediately hugging Jason after he finds out his identity. Even if it’s dangerous for him to do so (Jason pointing a gun at him).
Jason’s reason for wanting to kill the Joker having nothing to do with revenge, the reality of the situation is Jason has borderline debilitating insomnia because he’s so terrified he’ll wake up back in that warehouse or the Joker will find him whilst he’s asleep.
Bruce originally not wanting Tim as his new Robin because he reminded him so much of Jason. To the point where he caught himself almost calling him Jason on multiple occasions. That’s why it took so long for them to be close.
Dick accidentally calling Tim - Jason after Jason beats the shit out of him.
Jason and Tim knowing each other before Jason dies. Jason knew Tim’s parents weren’t caring for him properly and wanted Bruce to adopt him but he didn’t get the chance to tell Bruce about Tim when he was alive.
Jason getting dosed in fear toxin and getting hallucinations of Willis whilst the other bats are around.
Bruce getting dosed in fear toxin and hallucinates burying Jason again.
Jason is always freezing bc of the whole dying thing and needs other people to keep warm, but Jason’s a stubborn bitch and it’s the middle of winter.
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mediumgayitalian · 1 month
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Will wakes up sometime around two, stumbling over to Arts & Crafts. He looks so incredibly, adorably sleepy, face creased with pillow marks and hair sticking out everywhere even worse than usual, that Nico can’t help his smile.
“Morning,” he says quietly, shifting over in the bench to make room. “Or, well, afternoon.”
“Mmfh,” Will responds. He sways on his feet, eyes still closed, so Nico has reach back and take his hand, guiding him to the seat Nico cleared for him.
“Still sleepy?”
Instead of answering, Will slumps onto his shoulder. Nico tenses for a moment, but quickly relaxes — Will is out of it. He’s a heavy weight on Nico’s side, and his breath comes out in little puffs; he’s halfway to snoring. He sets aside the clay sculpture he was making, wiping off his hands, and shifts slightly to make his shoulder more comfortable, sliding his hands in Will’s hair. After a quick glance to double check that no one’s around, he cards through the matted curls, carefully untangling the birds nest that sits currently upon his head.
“Night shift was long?”
Will groans, nuzzling deeper into Nico’s neck. Nico huffs, allowing it, turning his half-limp body so he’s practically sitting on top of him. It’s kind of a nice weight, actually. And Will is warm, slumped and half-sprawled in his lap like a freckly blanket.
“Got thrown up on three times.”
It takes Nico a second to decipher the words, mumbled as they are. His finger gets caught in a strand of Will’s hair as he winces, tugging a touch too hard. Will shivers.
“Oof.”
“Mhm. Shouldn’t complain, though. Not Cecil’s fault.” He pauses. “Well, it’s a little his fault. I told him not to mess with Billie’s garden.”
Nico smiles. “You know, it’s not the first time a Hermes kid has been poisoned for their dumbassery. You could’ve left his cabin to handle him.”
“They would do a horrible job. They might actually make him worse.”
“Yep.”
“…I can’t leave him to suffer, Neeks.”
“Hero complex,” Nico teases. “Sounds like a natural consequence to me.”
“Shhhh. I’m sleeping.”
“It’s two thirty in the afternoon, Solace.”
“Pot, kettle, et cetera.”
Nico smiles. “Only dorky people say et cetera when they’re half asleep.” He shifts, accepting that he has a lapful of head medic, now, no refunds or exchanges. It’s still, somehow, very comfortable — he feels as if he’s laying in a sun patch, under a warm, heavy blanket. Plus, Will smells like strawberries and lavender and his sandalwood shampoo. Nico could get used to it.
He does, however, subtly raise a couple skeleton to stand guard outside the gazebo — no need to get anyone gossiping. As cute as a sleepy Solace is, Nico can and will shove him to the ground the second anyone gets too close. He has a Reputation.
(He is a liar.)
“Did I miss the strawberry coffee cake this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Aw.”
Nico hums, untangling the last of his hair. Without anything for his hands to do, he slides them under Will’s hoodie, resting them in his stomach, ignoring his whining and exaggerated shiver at Nico’s ice-cold hands.
If Nico is going to function as his personal bean-bag chair, Will is going to function as his space heater. Fair’s fair.
“Saved a piece for you, though.”
He feels Will’s grin more than sees it, twisted up as they are. He feels his happy little wiggle, too, arms flailing before wrapping around Nico’s waist, thighs shifting before re-bracketing his hips.
“You’re my actual favourite.”
“Hm. I think you say that to all the boys you save you strawberry cake and let you nap on them.”
“Nah.” Will’s breathing starts to slow, body stilling as he rests his head right about Nico’s heart. He can feel his puffs of breath in his collarbone, tickling the skin under his thin t-shirt. “Just you.”
Nico flushes, more pleased than he’s willing to admit, and rests his chin on his head, watching over the strawberry fields. He checks that Will is actually asleep, and when he is, he presses a quick, darting kiss to his still-creased cheek, and smiles.
“You’re my favourite, too.”
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stevebabey · 1 year
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The drip in the roof of the trailer is what wakes Steve.
A steady plink! of water meeting wood somewhere above them. It always leaks a little in the trailer after it rains, like a gentle metronome of fat raindrops sneaking inside the cracks. While it used to annoy him, Steve just finds it soothing now.
The curtains Eddie had poorly shut the night before are askew just an inch, letting through a sliver of sunlight. A beam sneaks through, makes the room glow, walls painted golden. Steve revels in it and it’s warmth; lets out a yawn and stretches like a big cat, giving a soft groan as he does.
His elbow knocks into Eddie’s side as he does and Steve feels the familiar rush in his chest, fond affection filling every vein— and he loves it.
He loves that momentarily forgetfulness born from his sleepiness, where he forgets that he gets to wake up with someone by his side. Wake up next to Eddie, no less.
Steve loves it, adores it, because really what it means is he gets to remember it every morning.
He gets to roll closer and poke Eddie gently on the cheek, a small smidge of him just wanting to check if he’s real. If this, this love, is real and his. Eddie lets out a groggy groan, buries his face further in the pillow. Steve grins. Yep, he’s real.
Eddie makes another groggy noise and this time pulls his face out of his pillow slowly. He looks like a disgruntled cat, hair still stuck to his cheek, some small patch of drool left on the pillow. Eddie makes a soft ‘hmph!’ and one hand reaches up, wiping across his face lazily. His eyes peek open.
And as much as Steve loves his own secret moment in the morning, it’s blown out of the water by this every time — the moment Eddie sees him. Brown eyes see him and Eddie just softens. Like butter in the sun. Sinks further into his pillow and smiles, sleepy and wonderful.
Normally, they both let sleep comes and go, drifting across the sheets in half-hearted cuddles that Steve melts for every time. Today, Eddie’s smile grows into a happy grin. Then his hands are stretching out and he’s making small grabby hands across the sheets, urging his boyfriend over.
“C’mere,” he says, hands finding Steve’s side and pulling him, soft. “Gimme.”
Steve grins, heart flip-flopping. Goes without any resistance, shifting to snuggle up to Eddie, tucking up and under his chin as Eddie’s does his best to scoop him up in his arms. It’s warm. Eddie’s pulse is a small comfort to Steve as he rests his head upon Eddie’s chest, hands curled around his middle, thumbing at soft scar tissue. Thump-thump-thump, Eddie’s heart says, and Steve can somehow easily read the love in it; his stomach turns again, in a dizzy elated way.
“Mm, birthday boy,” Eddie hums, but he’s still so sleepy that birthday sounds more like birfday. Steve feels his heart jump in surprise — a moment in which he’s baffled Eddie knows. That Eddie remembers. The last couple birthdays… well, he hadn’t been friends with Robin til after his birthday in ‘85 and then, well, with everything in ‘86… It’s been awhile since someone has remembered is all.
He doesn’t mean to sound as surprised he does when he murmurs, “You remembered?”
Eddie hums again, a sweet loving noise. His arms around Steve tighten and Steve feels his heart keen when his lips brush across Steve’s temple. A gentle kiss is pressed there. It feels like everything he needs — this quiet small moment of wonder, a tiny moment of tenderness, just for Steve. He presses his own kiss back, lips against Eddie’s collarbone.
“S’look,” Eddie continues, dragging his arm off Steve to point somewhere on the wall. Steve follows his gaze and then— there it is, on Eddie’s calendar. Circled in red is April 29th. It’s covered in sloppy hearts, so much there’s no room for any word other than ‘Steve!!’ in the middle; his birthday. Marked so Eddie would remember, wouldn’t even dare the chance to forget it.
Eddie drops his arm, returning it to where it was, hooked over Steve’s side so his hand can run soothing soft touches down his back. He sighs again, another sleepy noise, and Steve could probably cry.
“Precious birthday boy, mm,” Eddie mumbles lovingly. “Lovely precious birthday boy,” he warbles on, voice gooey enough that Steve know he means it. Actually thinks that— that he’s precious, and lovely, and everything more. “What d’ya wanna do t’day?”
Steve tightens his cuddle and whispers, “Just this.”
He can feel Eddie’s grin, in response, and then there’s another kiss to his head. Just this. It’s the complete truth.
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popponn · 1 month
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(some) bllk boys as cuddling partner — a rating list.
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bachira — best cuddler/10. big spoon? he loves hugging you! little spoon? he loves being hugged by you! embracing each other, lying side by side while the two of you share whispers and quiet giggles? baby, he could do that all day. if he could, this guy would probably hold your hand or hug you all the time while dribbling a soccer ball. be thankful that's physically impossible because if it isn't nothing stops this bee from doing what he loves. honestly, the champion in this department. go home everyone. when he feels happy it's hug time when he is sad it's also hug time.
rin — if you guys just started out, 2/10. 1 point bonus because he is so stiff it's funny—the best deal you can get is him being a big spoon while sitting and doing something else. if he is focused on just cuddling you it will forgo being awkward to straight up comedic. but once he gets used to it, 7/10. his pride won't let him small spoon but he is a good big spoon. very relaxed around you, hand around your hips, head perched on your shoulder, and so on. the worst part of this is not even bad since it's just him getting the clingier, touch-starved part of him out so yeah. at least have 3 hours reserved for cuddles.
isagi — 10/10 no bias except this one is self-aware. 3/10 when starting out and that's like a bonus point for effort. when it's a short casual hug, it's easy and sweet for him. then put in private space, his shyness that wow turns out is still kinda there when it comes to you, and prolonged hug that becomes his main focus for an extended period then you get a statue instead of a bf. but get him comfy and it's instant 8/10 — is way too insistent and determined on "he needs to see your face :((" sometimes because yes he is accomodating 101 but this is egoist. but very clingy, very soft, very warm, very cuddly, very bf.
sae — when he is napping? you are his hug pillow. but even that is 6/10 because his hold on you is ironclad. and as his hug mostly comes in the form of a backhug—because cool fridge guy thing probably—he is trained to make you comfy. but yeah no escaping this guy. when he is awake though, getting him to cuddle or reciprocate your hug (in public, especially) is already a miracle. when you do though, 4/10 because at least he won't throw you like he will do to everyone else. just accept his fate as your doll. while sighing or flatly glare at anyone who dares to comment.
nagi — the runner-up!!! simply because that's like his natural habitat there. 9/10, minus 1 point because on lazy days, if he doesn't get his cuddle he will whine and become annoying. grubby hand is cute, a giant creature made of muscle putting all of his weight on your back while you try to move around doing your business is not. but other than that, really good as both a little spoon and big spoon. just hold him or let him hold you. he likes you enough that there is 50/50 chance of him completely forgetting his game to cuddle you how downbad is that.
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avocadoraisin · 3 months
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me yesterday: I need to draw more bloody hoffstrahm
me today:
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luxaofhesperides · 4 months
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Wings AU ; requested by @justwannabecat!
“Are you sure it looks good?” Duke asks for the sixth time in an hour.
Tim sighs and says, yet again, “It looks fine. Just give it to him! If he doesn’t love it, I’ll beat him up for you.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“I could! But you’re right, I wouldn’t. I would just psychologically torment him until he broke.”
“Don’t do that, please. I’d like to actually have a chance with him, even if he hates this.”
“He won’t,” Tim says. He actually stops typing to give Duke a severe look. “Go and give it to him. If you don’t go now, he’s going to think you bailed.”
Duke glances at the time, then jumps. “Shit! Thanks for your help, man!” He’s out of the door before Tim can say another word. He doesn’t bother with the front door, or even going down the hallway. Instead, he opens the nearest window and flings himself out of it, unfurling his tawny wings to catch the wind beneath them and ride them into the city proper.
He briefly considers stopping for a moment to change into his Signal outfit so he can fly above civilian jurisdiction, then decides that it’s far easier to just bend the light around him so he’s invisible. He wouldn’t want to be late meeting Danny, after all. Especially not for this.
He hadn’t been expecting Danny to be into traditional courting methods. Most people tend to go the more modern way of dating, but Danny had mentioned once or twice that he thought it was romantic. He had blushed, mumbling the words, but Duke heard them and went into researching courting methods to see which ones Danny might like best.
Sure, he could just ask Danny out on a date like he normally would if he liked someone, but if Danny wants to be courted, then Duke is going to court him!
It’s why he’s been planning this out carefully, gathering his primaries after his wings molted a few months ago so he could string them together into a thin wing covering. 
Admittedly, this courting method isn’t super common, but the thought of giving Danny his feathers, making it look like their wings are one and the same, has kept Duke up some nights, wanting it so badly. 
Besides, he thinks Danny will like it. Considering the state of his wings after the Accident…
Duke holds his handmade wing covers closer to his chest, flier lower as he leaves Bristol and enters Diamond District. The streets are busy, full of people. Most tend to stay on the ground, wings tucked close to their bodies, but there are plenty still flying above cars and buses that Duke has to carefully fly around. 
It takes another twenty minutes to get to Robinson Park, where Duke drops down to the ground and takes a moment to make sure all his feathers are straight and neatly displayed. Then he walks into the park, heading towards their usual meeting place.
For once, it’s a nice, sunny day in Gotham. Everyone’s taking advantage of it. The park is full of couples and families, walking around slowly, and kids dart through the air, still unable to go very high with their wings not yet fully grown in. It’s nice to hear the laughter and general chatter of people wandering the park. 
Duke doesn’t spend too long walking the paved paths through the park. He steps off of it near the second water fountain on the path, then heads into the trees, passing two moms on a picnic with their three kids rolling around the grass nearby. 
Tucked away in this corner of the park is a small clearing surrounded by thin trees. The tile is dirty and cracked, no one maintaining it at all with it hidden away. 
He sees Danny’s wings first, with long feathers that trail onto the ground, a black that shines dark blue in the light. He follows the lines of his wings back to his body, where Danny sits on a bench, leaning his weight back against his hands as he lifts his head up into the sunlight, basking in the warmth.
He really is so pretty. He insists that he isn’t, but Duke regularly spends time with the Wayne family, all who have modeled before, so he’s got a better idea than most about what pretty  looks like, and Danny fits the bill. 
“Hey,” Duke calls out softly, watching as Danny slowly blinks his eyes open and turns to give him a warm smile.
“Hey! I’m free for the rest of the day, which means we have so much time to complain about things today.”
“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”
“Nope,” Danny says. “I wouldn’t mind waiting, though. I like hanging out with you.”
Heart pounding in his chest, Duke walks forward. He doesn’t know if there’s something specific he has to say when presenting his gift, if there’s a courting tradition involved that he didn’t learn about. He’s terrified Danny’s going to reject it. He’s praying that Danny accepts it.
“Are you okay?” Danny asks, standing to get a better look at him. “You seem tense…” He trails off as he catches sight of what Duke holds in his hands, breath stuttering.
“I’m fine. I, um.” Duke steps into the clearing, entering the sunlight, and holds out his wing covers. “I made them for you. You mentioned before that you thought courting traditions were romantic… I don’t know if you like wing covers, but I thought you’d look good in my feathers… Only if you want it though!”
He’s trying so hard not to cringe away in embarrassment. He’s flirted with Danny before, half jokes and half serious, always playful. Duke was smooth then, delighting in how flustered it made Danny before he hit back with his own flirting. Now he’s a hesitant, stuttering fool, tripping over his words and struggling to find the perfect things to say. Maybe he should have thought up a speech, or something. Memorized a few lines to speak his intentions with this courting gift. Done literally any prep for giving the gift instead of focusing only on making it.
Danny doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move either. He just stares, wide-eyed at the wing covers in Duke’s hands.
That’s a bad sign, isn’t it.
His hands lower just a touch, and he quietly prompts, “Danny?”
Just as he’s about to pull back, step away and try to fix things, messily attempt to salvage their friendship because clearly Danny doesn’t want to be courted by Duke, Danny’s hands snap out whip-fast and latch onto his wrists.
“This is… for me?” he whispers, awed.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s for you.”
“And you’re courting me? Like, for real?”
“Yeah, definitely courting you for real. Do you accept?”
Danny throws himself into Duke’s arms, careful not to crush the wing covers between them. “In what world would I say no?” he laughs, bright with joy. He pulls back a second later, not giving Duke time to hug him back, and turns around, carefully stretching his wings out. “Put them on for me?”
“Of course.”
He starts by smoothing out some of Danny’s feathers. He doesn’t get to do this often; Danny hates having his wings on display for anyone, with how they spasm occasionally, and have empty patches where feathers will never grow in again. The Accident, all that electricity coursing through him, it permanently damaged his wings. There is no healing to be done. 
His wings are lacking too many flight feathers and primaries for him to fly. He’s stuck on the ground now, unable to use his wings for more than a minute. Old burns are still visible closer to his spine. 
Danny prefers hiding his wings away. He hates thinking about the Accident, hates how it’s taken his wings from him, how it’s changed him completely. 
But Duke loves his wings. He loves the softness of Danny’s lower feathers, how they shine in the light, how they always puff up when it gets windy. He’s only gotten to preen them twice before, and he treasures those memories more dearly than anything else.
This easily outshines both those moments.
He gently combs his fingers through Danny’s feathers, straightening them out, then lays the first wing cover over his right wing. His own brown feathers drape over the top of Danny’s wings, hiding the featherless patches from view. He does the same to the other wing, then adjust both until they lay perfectly on Danny’s wings.
As soon as he lifts his hands away from Danny’s wings, Danny is spinning around with a grin, flaring his wings out.
“How do I look?”
“Perfect,” Duke answers. He was right; Danny looks good in his feathers.
He watches, fond and amused, as Danny spins, keeping his wings flared, admiring his new look. “I’m never taking these off,” he says. “I love them so much. I can’t really make one for you, though…”
“You don’t need to.”
“I can’t just accept this and not give you something in return!”
“Well… There is one thing you could give me. Something I’ve been wanting for a long time.”
“What is it?” Danny asks, leaning towards Duke. He’s eager, ready to please, so delighted to be courted. 
Duke smiles. “A kiss.”
“Done.” 
He doesn’t have time to react before Danny is pouncing on him, hands fisting the collar of his shirt as he tilts his head up and kisses Duke. He pulls back before Duke can kiss back, blushing and unbearably cute.
And all Duke manages to say is, “Cool.”
He’s so good at this.
Danny rightfully laughs at him, then grabs his hand and pulls him down to the bench. “Come on, I promised to complain about my teachers today and I intend to deliver. And maybe later, I could take you out on a date? If you want.”
“Danny, of course I want to go on a date with you. I’m courting you! I thought I made my feelings clear!”
“I’m just making sure!” Danny shouts over him, and Duke can’t resist the urge to pull him closer and pepper kisses along his cheek. “Okay, okay, I got it. You’ve made your feelings clear. I’m going to date you so hard.”
“You better. It’s about time you put some work into our relationship.”
“Excuse you?!” Danny gasps in mock outrage, and they start bickering lightheartedly as they always do.
Even with their feelings come to light, even with a courtship started and a date promised, it doesn’t feel like anything between them has changed. 
It’s just them. Just as it always has been.
Duke couldn’t be happier.
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ghost-bxrd · 5 months
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“This is where you live?”
Jason drops the duffle bag on the counter, “Yeah. It’s no manor, kid. I told you.”
He’s not self conscious. He’s not. This apartment is fuckin’ nice ok? He spent a lot of money on decor and proper kitchenware and furniture and shit.
But Jason also knows that, objectively speaking, it doesn’t hold a candle to Wayne manor and its fifty-something bedrooms. That place is basically its own country.
Bruce nods.
“I like it,” he says solemnly, walking over towards the window to peek through the blinds. The view from up here isn’t exactly panorama level but the building is one of the tallest in Crime Alley and Jason’s apartment is on the top floor, so it does provide a pretty good view of a good portion of the Alley. “It doesn’t feel as empty.”
Jason pauses where he’s resetting the traps and alarms by the door, glancing over his shoulder to where Bruce is starting to tentatively explore the living space and is struck by how violently out of place the boy looks with his rigid posture and elegantly curved eyebrows. Even the plain hoodie, faded hand-me-down jeans and ridiculous wool cap aren’t enough to hide how utterly not Crime Alley born-and-bred he is. Everything about Bruce is basically screaming rich-Bristol-trust-fund-kid.
Which, yeah. Checks out.
Jason clears his throat and clicks the security on, waiting for the small light at the side to switch from green to red.
“Your room’s the one down the hall to the left. Right one is mine. Door at the end of the hall is the bathroom.”
Bruce hikes his backpack up higher on his shoulder, eyes eerily vacant as always, but Jason wants to think that there’s a sliver of curiosity behind that steely gaze anyways as he inclines his head and makes his way down the hall.
As soon as the kid vanishes around the corner Jason allows himself a moment to exhale and run a hand down his face tiredly.
Jesus fucking Christ.
What was he thinking.
How the fuck is he supposed to raise a tiny Bruce Wayne with his older furry counterpart running around Gotham at night hunting criminals? Criminals like Jason?
Nothing. He was thinking nothing. And it’s about to bite him in the ass.
No way can he build a criminal empire and take over the drugs and weapons trade with a traumatized nine year old dependent on him.
God dammit.
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