who even spent weeks making this

rule breakers. (m)

based on the prompt, “best friend’s sibling au”

pairing: kim taehyung | reader
genre: fluff, light smut
warnings: slight voyeurism
word count: 20,453
description: there’s some unresolved history involving your best friend’s brother… but hey, maybe some rules are meant to be broken.
author’s note: i get inspired by the oddest little tidbits, and i swear the word count was supposed to be half the amount you see up there. also, say hello to the longest one-shot i’ve done so far.

Originally posted by kths

You have one of the greatest fortunes to be acquainted with the Kims in your first year of primary education, and perhaps it’s what has led you to one of your greatest downfalls (but we’ll get into that later on).

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anonymous asked:

What's your opinion on the theory that Dipper is treated unfairly throughout GF? For example, Dipper sacrifices a lot for Mabel, while she only seems to sacrifice her sock-puppet show for him. There are also many suggestions in the show that some episodes overlap, like that from July 11-15, Sock Opera, Blendin's Game and Into the Bunker overlap. Which means D was under a LOT of pressure that week and he sacrificed a LOT for his sister. But she doesn't thank him for that. What are your thoughts?

See, maybe it’s the big sister in me, because I’ve never understood this particular complaint. The fact is, Dipper loves Mabel so much that her happiness is his own; his actions of sacrifice on her behalf are freely chosen. That’s why Bill’s behavior in “Sock Opera” is so insidious; he builds on Dipper’s momentary frustration with Mabel (why won’t she help me?!?!) by bringing up the various ways he’s helped her in the past, implying that she hasn’t done much to return the favor. He seeks to engender resentment where there was none, where Dipper was previously unwilling to give him so much as a stitch of Mabel’s puppet show; hey, she worked hard on those.

The key assertion I have to address here is that “Dipper sacrifices a lot for Mabel, while she only seems to sacrifice her sock-puppet show for him.” I imagine that viewers come to the conclusion that Dipper has the losing end because, when they compare Dipper’s problems to Mabel’s, they see Dipper’s as more serious. Dipper has a crush he can’t shake (relatable), Mabel is gaga over a pig she just saw at the fair (less relatable); Dipper is pursuing the latest lead in his search for the Author (important), Mabel is rigging up an elaborate puppet show to impress the Boy of the Week (unimportant). Yet the show is always keenly aware that Mabel’s problems, as trivial as they may seem to us, are as important to her as Dipper’s are to him. Bill highlights this when he says, “Who would sacrifice everything they’d worked for just for their dumb sibling?”, causing Mabel to respond, “Dipper would.” Dipper’s “everything” is his investigation of Gravity Falls and Mabel’s “everything” is her puppet show, but each of their projects is everything. Coming from Mabel, the sacrifice of the sock puppet show–and, by extension, of a shot at the “epic summer romance” she’s been seeking as ardently as Dipper has been seeking the answers to his questions–is a very real loss, one she’s willing to accept because Dipper would do and has done as much for her.

Nor is Mabel’s puppet show the only casualty of her greater love for her brother; the loss of her dream world is no mean thing. Mabeland might not be to everyone’s taste (I would personally have thinned out the crowd and lowered the 80s club music a notch), but it’s Mabel’s ideal universe; it’s a world where everything is as she wants it, where she’s never bored or lonely, where every boy loves her, where the high court judge is a kitten. With the threat of change weighing on her and the most important relationship of her life under siege, the prison bubble presents Mabel with an irresistible retreat. Bill, who has banked on human greed in the past to great success, believes that the trap is inescapable, that no one handed all their heart’s desires on a plate will be capable of leaving (just as Mabel is taken in by her desperation to stop time, Dipper wavers when presented with the possibility of growing up on the spot). But without Dipper, all of it is hollow; she prefers in the end to leave her safe place and to follow him into an uncertain world.

For much of the show, Dipper is the more responsible one within the context of their relationship. Regardless of actual birth order, Mabel is the baby; sometimes the baby gets in a habit of relying on charm to carry her through, taking it for granted that her older siblings will always step up to the plate on her behalf, because she’s just that cute (looking at you, youngest sibling in my own family). But if Mabel’s occasional thoughtlessness with regard to Dipper is a character flaw, it’s worth measuring against the depth of her concern for the world at large, a quality that Dipper himself, who tends to value his select group, could stand to learn from. Dipper’s only real issue with the destruction of Northwest Manor and all of its visitors is that Mabel happens to be among them; Mabel is the first to see the potential for redemption in Pacifica, even though Dipper is the one who becomes close to her.

But Mabel loves Dipper more than anyone, and she is grateful to him for everything he does for her and shows it. She apologizes to him at the end of “Sock Opera” for letting a transient enthusiasm skew her priorities: “I spent all week obsessing over a dumb guy. But the dumb guy I should have cared about was you.” After escaping the prison bubble, she makes it clear to him that he can stay with Ford if he wants to–her noblest moment in the series, because Dipper is her entire world, infinitely more to her than crushes and pet pigs and magical trees that grow stuffed animals. He stays with her, not out of guilty obligation, but because he wants to be with her–because she’s his best friend, because growing up without her would be unthinkable. He’s a fair-minded guy, not one to take the fall without good reason–when he operates against her in “The Time-Traveler’s Pig,” he does so on the assumption that her pig is an enthusiasm of the moment and that his love for Wendy is permanent. When he realizes that losing Waddles will truly hurt her, he doesn’t hesitate. “I could never break your heart, Mabel.”

But look at how she thanks him. She knows this wasn’t easy for him and she’s ready to show him how much it means to her. She tackles him in sheer strength of feeling. She lifts him right off his feet.

Treated unfairly? Dipper gets back everything he gives away with interest. Dipper’s happiness is his sister’s happiness and he always gets it because he is her happiness. Dipper is a lucky kid.

Running Out of Time: Bellamy and His Feelings

Obviously, there was a lot to unpack from the Bellarke Beach Scene 2: Hugless Boogaloo, but what I thought was most interesting was what it tells us about Bellamy’s emotional status.  The line I think was most telling was It’s pathetic, right?  She hates me but I keep coming back for more because there’s just so much desolation in those two sentences, starting with it’s pathetic.  That line lands like a value judgment on himself– he is pathetic for still loving his sister, despite her hatred of him.  It also speaks to his feelings of helplessness, both with Octavia and with their larger situation: there is not a goddamn thing he can do to make his sister forgive him or stop the end of the world, but he’s still going to keep trying.  But even though he’s not giving up, he also sort of has– he’s given up on the idea of surviving, really.  He’s got faith in Clarke (and Raven), but the cynic inside of him keeps whispering there’s no surviving this so he’s decided he’s just going to do his best to make things right.

And where things stand right now, there’s two important people in his life: Clarke and Octavia.  Other people matter to him, of course, but those two women are his primary concern.  Things are pretty good with Clarke and pretty terrible with Octavia, so when faced with the choice of “where to go from here” he chooses Octavia because Bellamy doesn’t want to die with her hating him.  He knows that still might happen but he has to at least try to fix it, even if it seems pointless.  He could have chosen Clarke and gone over to Science Island and spent his last few weeks on earth with someone who trusts him and loves him and supports him, but that would mean sacrificing any chance to put things right with Octavia.

And make no mistake: Bellamy does not see them coming out of this alive.  He thinks this is the end, and that’s part of what is hanging over his head when he says it’s pathetic.  Because he’s not just talking about returning to Octavia for more abuse, he’s talking about how he’s spent the last nine months fighting to keep everyone alive, often at great cost to his own moral values, only for everyone to die anyway.  He hasn’t reached Jasper’s level of nihilism and I honestly doubt he will, but there is a certain fatalistic attitude leaking through in this scene that punches me in the gut.  He feels pathetic and pointless, and so all that’s left is to try and get his sister to love him before they die.

But there is one thing left to tell Clarke, and that’s how he feels about her.  Guys, when he says Clarke, if I don’t see you again, there’s really only one way to end that sentence.  He has made it clear he loves her through his actions time and time again– letting her go in 216, going after her in 302, telling her he doesn’t want to be angry with her in 313, trusting her in 315 and 316, being there for her at her absolute lowest in 403– but he’s never actually said it.  It’s literally the last thing left to do, and standing next to her on that beach, he really does think it could be the last time he sees her, and not just because of praimfaya.

It’s because over the course of the last few days, Bellamy has thought his sister died and watched their best hope for surviving the apocalypse go up in flames.  And in the course of the previous twelve hours, he thought Clarke was dead and/or that he would watch her die twice.  Clarke might not make it back before the radiation hits, or she might die from a stray arrow or an ambush or 400 other things that could go wrong.  He knows that life is uncertain in their world and he’s not sure he’ll ever see her again.  Thanks to Echo, Bellamy knows what it feels like when someone you love dies with things unsaid, so he steels himself for what is about to be a painful admission because he knows he loves her and he knows she loves him, but he also thinks Clarke doesn’t love him in the same way.  He’s not planning on telling her this because he thinks she’ll reciprocate, he’s planning on telling her he loves her because that’s all there is left to do.

But Clarke stops him.  First of all, guys, she fucking knows what he’s about to say.  They just spent an entire episode being Drift Compatible as fuck, and she just said she’ll see how special you are which is a weird fucking thing to say about someone’s sibling (I don’t really need to see how special my brother is; I  need to remind him of how we used to play chicken while sledding and I won every fucking time because he’s a goddamn chickenso you cannot tell me she would have been surprised if he said I love you.  Clarke was talking about her feelings for Bellamy here and pretending it was about Octavia because right now, feelings are painful for Clarke.  (If you’re special wasn’t a significant admission for Clarke she wouldn’t have broken eye contact after she said it.)  She’ll see how special you are is as close to I love you as Clarke can get at the moment, and I do think that if Bellamy was wavering (do I tell her I love her?  Or do I leave that unsaid because she’s not ready to hear it?) having Clarke tell him he matters was all he needed to decide.

Except Clarke sees where this is going and stops him, but not just because hearing Bellamy Blake say I love you when she’s still a tangled mess of grief and fear would be too much.  She stops him because she knows he’s saying it because he’s giving up hope, but she hasn’t yet.  She believes they can survive this so there’s no need for last minute love confessions.  In Clarke’s mind they have a future, and letting Bellamy say this might be the last time I see you so you need to know I love you is just too painful to contemplate.  Bellamy was ready to say goodbye, but Clarke isn’t.

I’m honestly not sure if Bellamy would have said it anyway if Roan hadn’t interrupted them.  He wasn’t looking convinced, at any rate, and I suspect if Roan hadn’t blown the Time Out From Feelings Whistle, Bellamy would have gone through with it.  Not because he doesn’t consider Clarke’s feelings important, but because he’s desperate.  This is it: the finish line is approaching, so make your peace and get ready for whatever comes next.

But Clarke didn’t stop Bellamy because she didn’t want to hear that he loves her; she stopped him because in her mind, there’s still time.  It wasn’t “If you love me I’d rather die not knowing,” it was “Please don’t say goodbye to me because I haven’t given up hope.”  Clarke is an expert at last-minute love confessions but she’s not ready to say they’ve reached that point.  She has hope that there will be time later to talk about this, so she doesn’t say I don’t want to hear it she says we’ll talk about this later.  Because Clarke has decided there will be a future for Bellamy, whether he believes in it or not.

Queen’s Evidence

↠ baekhyun x f!reader; 16.3k; how far will you go to show baekhyun that you did actually care about him?
↠ mafia au; y/n is a little crazy; involves the theme of hanahaki; contains mentions of death, adultery and other themes

“I realised why I kissed you before,” he answers. He swallows thickly and leans his head back. “You’re not like other people that I meet. You fought back against me. You offered a new perspective. I found myself wanting to spend more and more time with you but originally I thought it was because I needed something different but I realised it’s because I needed you.”

Originally posted by xehun

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shady-swan-jones  asked:

i have just the thing for to wake your fluff muse up: cs + You just woke up from surgery and you don’t remember me or that we’re married or have a kid because you’re so high but you flirt with me anyway au

okay, so, wanna hear something hilarious? sophie sent this prompt to me     A G E S  ago, and i started writing it, and then it got lost in the abyss. i’m so glad you sent it to me again. so…take two! i hope you like it!

also, to @killiansdevotedheart! surprise! i’m your CSSV! consider this your pre-gift because i’m still working on your actual gift but i want you to still have something. enjoy for now!


Emma knows she shouldn’t be so worried. It’s a simple appendectomy, after all—the removal of an organ human biology deemed no longer very useful years ago. She shouldn’t be so worried, especially after the doctors assured her she brought him in just in time.

(“A few more days and we would have had a mess on our hands. You did good, Emma, even if it meant dragging him here against his will.”)

Doctors assurances don’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, because it’s Killian, after all—

Killian, who spent two weeks in pain because he didn’t want to trouble her.

Killian, who sat through Henry’s ceremony in utter pain because he didn’t want to miss it.

Killian, who let his appendix almost burst because he didn’t want to be a burden.

— And yet she’d murder him herself if he didn’t make it out of this, adding a whole new meaning to the whole “til death do us part” portion of their vows.

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She knew it would be strange and lonely to study abroad. She knew she’d feel lost, bewildered. It even had a name - culture shock. Like something benign, almost. Like jumping into a cold stream on a hot day, her mother said, it almost blanks your mind out to start with, but if you tough it out and stay in it, you adjust.

But she didn’t adjust, was the thing. It wasn’t just the distance, staying up late or getting up early to put fuzzy, stuttering skype calls through to her family, writing letters and postcards when that stopped working so well. It wasn’t the differences in language, the big and small adjustments she had to make for culture. (Why did Americans have to smile so wide, talk so loud?)

The place was weird was the thing. There were a thousand better words maybe - unsettling, abnormal, offset - but it all just boiled down to weird.

Home - England - could be weird too, but that was home weird, a right and natural weird. A weird of small tree copses and unloved council estates, of dark shadows traipsing the motorways and black dogs in the fog. She knew that magic. She’d tasted it already, knew the poisoned honey taste of it on her tongue. Merlin and Arthur sleeping until a prophesised time of great need, The Beast of Bodmin roaming wild, the sun behind the stones at Avebury.

Oh, she saw them, the gentry of Elsewhere University, she saw them in shadows and from the corners of her eyes and reflected in smooth surfaces. She knew them for legend and myth, she knew them - but she didn’t know them, either. They were different here, like the people were. She avoided eye contact, and never listened to the music from the lake no matter how beautiful it was, and when that pretty couple at the bar asked her home she didn’t go, because they smelled like chamomile flowers and poppies and blood.

It might have been fun, though.

She got fewer and fewer responses to her letters. Skype didn’t work at all any more. She made no friends, and none of her teachers remembered her name for more than three minutes. (she counted, on a stopwatch.)

She was disappearing, bit by bit from life, and no-one would care, no-one would remember. Nothing left of her.

She thought, in sharp jagged moments, of forcing some kind of remembrance. Of some kind of destructive public display - But she didn’t want to hurt herself, didn’t want to bring herself back into the world through destroying herself.

There was another option, her reflection said to her, when she looked into it too long. You’re vanishing anyway, what does it matter? It’s beautiful, you know, it’s beautiful.

She spent days, weeks, centuries in her room, letting the dust gather over her, hands pressed to her face. Or maybe it was just days, and there was no dust.

Once, as a child, she’d had a friend who wasn’t there. An invisible friend, as so many children do, only - only - she knew. She knew the way magic felt on her skin, tangled up in her heart. She’d never even known she missed it so intently, like some organ in her that had been torn out and only now started aching.

It wasn’t so hard, in the end, to make the choice. To walk out on a cold clear night, when the moon was a thin crescent, and to say Yes.


And in the end it got boiled down, reduced to a new legend. The international student who couldn’t handle the change any more, who got stressed and gave herself away.

No-one even remembers her name.


Michaels plan getting out of prison: I will study and memorize the layout of this prison. Befriend the people who I need to befriend in order to get the tools I need. Become friends with the Prison leader and make them believe that I am out for both our best interests. Build gadgets to distract and give us signals on when to move. And we will escape the prison grounds in a matter of 60 minutes even though it takes at least 120 minutes but we can manage it if we stay on this schedule that I have spent weeks planning out. Michaels plan once they are out of Prison:

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

prompt from @onefootone: I lowkey want superfamily goes paint balling or something of the like, and it’s decided alex and maggie aren’t allowed on the same team, but it’s lowkey ike vasquez who kicks everyones ass.

You got it buddy.

So for reasons that should be obvious to anyone with a brain, the DEO has its own paintball facility for training and stress relief purposes. While billed to the government for training new agents, team building, and new weapons training, Director not-Henshaw often made the grounds available to agents looking to let loose a little, provided they brought their own ammo and filed the proper waivers with Pam in HR.

Both Maggie and Alex have an unhealthy obsession with firearms, and while Lucy can hold her own, the firing range isn’t exactly her preferred form of foreplay. But for Maggie’s birthday, Lucy could make an exception. She planned it on her own because Alex was a useless lesbian who, badass as she was in the field, caved at the slightest hint of dimples and big starry brown eyes. Lucy would have caved too, to be honest, but she’d spent the last two weeks in DC and emailed the forms back and forth with Pam.

Lucy even managed to line up some decent players. James convinced Winn to come. J’onn’s reluctance was always more about image, he was thrilled to spend time with his kids. Kara, of course, had to be reminded repeatedly that her powers were not allowed.

When Kara mentioned Lena was coming, Lucy had to scramble to find someone to balance out the teams, and Vasquez was the solution. Easy-peasy. At least she knew Vasquez wouldn’t accidentally shoot someone in the throat, which is more than she could say for Winn.

Weeks of preparation, and a freak snow storm in Ohio nearly ruined everything. But Lucy was a planner with Supergirl on speed dial, so she and her gear were on site with minutes to spare. Exhausted, and not nearly as paintball-chic as intended, but whatever, her girlfriends knew she was hot.

Alex pulls up with Maggie in a DEO SUV, Vasquez in the back, ready for the cross training exercise J’onn had ordered them to, completely surprised to see their friends geared up and ready to go. Vas takes their time getting out, gathering up everyone’s gear and all the extra ammo they had snuck in when Alex and Maggie were busy making out. Maggie and Alex hurried out, but made sure to throw an extra swing into their hips to greet Lucy.

James may have had to clear his throat to get their attention. May have.

It didn’t really work. Space Dad’s “Ladies, please,” had a little more effect.

They stepped apart anyway. Inches was apart, right?

Lucy smiled. “Happy birthday, Sawyer.”

“Wait, seriously?” Maggie narrowed her eyes. “You hate shooting things with us.”

“Yes, everyone here is aware you two are weird. That’s why rule number one is you two aren’t allowed to pair up. Rule number two is no alien super powers, Kara.”

“Hey! J’onn has powers!”

Lucy quirked an eyebrow and looked back over her shoulder, “J’onn doesn’t use them to check and see how far away his pizza guy is. No powers.”

“Any more rules?” Alex asked.

“No headshots, no throat shots, and no leaving the boundaries. Teams of two, last man or team standing wins.”

“Dibs on James,” said Maggie.

“Kara,” called Alex.

Lucy frowned, she had hoped Alex would be willing to protect Winn. “Winn.”

Vasquez looked a little peeved to have been left with their boss. Oh well, at least Vas wasn’t getting stuck with Winn, J’onn could at least shoot.

Pam was in the camera room with playback and the counter, because of course she wasn’t missing this. She had also come with the waiver Winn hadn’t signed because, face it, Schott, it’s your choice to come out here and get obliviated.

She wasn’t wrong. Kara knocked out Winn second after J’onn, who hadn’t put up much of a fight when Alex cornered him. Poor Vasquez.

Lucy, half up a tree and relying on her small stature to hide her, managed to nab a hulking James, who was not able to hide too easily amongst the smaller obstacles. She never saw the shot that took her out, or where it came from, but she certainly cursed loudly when it knocked her ten feet to the ground, paint staining the back of her black tee. Dutifully, Lucy raised her gun above her head and marched back to the hut where Pam and the rest of the losers kept watch on the cameras.

Lucy was stunned to see Kara go down next. There was no way she was abiding by the rules, her superhearing was second nature. Alex, creeping through the brush was next, getting clipped as she stepped out to take a shot at Maggie’s unprotected back.

Maggie turned at Alex’s cursing, diving just in time to avoid Vasquez’s shot. No matter what Winn and Pam did with the cameras, they couldn’t seem to find Vasquez on the map, even calculating possibly trajectories based off of Alex’s kill shot.

Maggie only lasted another five minutes, and Vas was already outside of the hut, cleaning their gear when she arrived and everyone piled out.

“What the fuck, Vas?”

“Sorry, birthday girl.” Vas smirked. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to pick the former sniper last?”

only the ppl who know me irl know how much I fucken love vines to the point I’ve spent hours watching vine compilations on my tv and how I constantly make vine references on a daily basis that only my best friends get because I’ve dragged them into the vine hell rip vine

anonymous asked:

tobirama, madara, and yamato reacting to their s/o being pregnant

I love pregnancy headcanons, they are the perfect occasion for some good fluff or some good angst.

There are some similar asks, if you want to check: Madara as a parent, and Tobirama with a Teenage daughter

Tobirama, Madara, and Yamato with a Pregnant S/O Headcanons

Originally posted by fuckyeahnaruto

Tobirama Senju


• His first reaction, especially if you were trying to get you pregnant, would be pretty hurting. Tobirama will say something along the lines of “Finally”, or, “at least”. However, you shouldn’t take it to heart, Tobirama is genuinely happy. The first days after he hears the news, he is going to be more affectionate than usual, giving you tons of kisses and caresses.

• He will not make a fuss about your pregnancy. However, after Harishama finds out, the whole village will be informed of every inch your belly grows. However, it isn’t hard to notice how Tobirama’s mood has improved: sometimes, in the middle of important reunions with the Fire Daimyo, he finds himself smiling while thinking of your child.

• Tobirama’s reaction wouldn’t be grandiloquent. It’s with the small gestures that you can determine his feelings. For example, after you told him about your pregnancy, you found several boxes of your favorite sweets on your bedside table.

• There was a list of names ready to be analyzed before your pregnancy. However, the final decision would be taken carefully and slowly. The name of a person is an important part of their selves, and Tobirama does not want to mark his child with a name that doesn’t suit them. He is especially inclined to the names of his family, though; if Tobirama could choose alone — which he is going to try—, his kid would have the name of his brother.

• Tobirama will be a prepared father. During the nine months, he’ll read every book he can find on the matter: pregnancy information, baby’s guides, parenting tips, etc. He wants to make sure his child will be well raised. He’ll probably pester you until accepting to read the informational books.

Originally posted by ginny-sama

Madara Uchiha


• At the second you confirm your pregnancy, Madara will become overprotective. He already has the tendency to forbid you things he finds dangerous, and this behavior will only increase when you are carrying his child. No training, no cooking, no cleaning, no going out without him. If it was for him, you would lie in the bed for the nine months.

• Madara almost never smiles. He smirks a lot, but he doesn’t smile. You have seen it, but it’s still a scarce event. After you told him you were pregnant, his whole face lighted up. His smile radiated warmth, his eyes had re-acquired that long-lost gleam; he even laughed, a pure, happy laugh.

• From that day and on, he’ll be extra careful around you. Madara is an incredible powerful shinobi, capable of destroying mountains without sweating: if he doesn’t pay attention, he might hurt you, particularly now, that you are more fragile. He’ll treat you like a porcelain doll. His kisses will be tender, his caresses plumed. Madara will even control his temper when you are around. He doesn’t want anything, especially him, to hurt you or your child.

• That first night, he told his brother. You woke up at midnight, incredibly cold and wondering where Madara had gone. Still half-asleep, you walked across the house searching for him. He was kneeling in front of the small altar, whispering “Izuna, I’m going to be a father.” Madara stayed there a very long time, telling his brother how much he loved you and how strong your child was going to be.

• Madara wants a son. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to love his daughter, but in all the pregnancy he’ll act as there was a certainty you were carrying his son. It’s a matter of Uchiha pride: Madara wants someone who he can show all the secrets of his clan, who can become a great warrior and leader. At the end, if he has a daughter, she’ll probably be trained with all the discipline a man would be trained, making his whim even more irrational.

Originally posted by rasenpiss

Yamato (Tenzo)


• He is the happiest man that has ever walked on earth. Yamato is extremely excited to start a family with you, and your pregnancy has him on cloud nine. The first thing he’ll do is hug you in a tight, warm, blissful embrace; your face will be attacked by a million little kisses. However, his impulsiveness doesn’t last long: a minute after, he is worried he hugged you too hard and is asking for forgiveness.

• Yamato will pamper you a lot from that day on: you’ll go out for dinner every day, he’ll give you foot massages, he’ll prepare you the fanciest baths and will comply to your every whim. Everything without a single objection. Kakashi makes fun of him since he found him looking from a discontinued cereal at midnight.

• The day you told him, Yamato and you prepared a party to tell all your friends. Everybody laughs at the ecstatic smile that is glued to the father’s face, but at the end, Kakashi and Gai —who started the discussion, much to Kakashi’s dread— end up in a food fight to see who is going to be the godfather.

• Even before your belly grows, Yamato spends a lot of time talking to it. He tells your child stories and bad jokes and describes the world they are going to encounter when born. He kisses your belly button and grazes your stomach’s skin with his calloused fingers.

• He makes the perfect crib. It is not only safe, but the wood is beautifully carved: trees, flowers, bears and foxes form the columns. Yamato asks you to paint it, even when the bare wood it’s already the most suitable color. He spent entire weeks perfecting the plans before creating it; and even after he makes it, he asks you if you think is enough or if he should begin another model.

Date Drug

Prompt: You’re in no way a party girl, but being Archie’s girlfriend, who just so happened to be a jock, you’re dragged along to parties quite often. Only this time, someone won’t leave you alone.

Prompt Idea/A/N: I got this idea from @riverdale-imagining and I fell in love with it. So though it’s somewhat the same, I took my own spin on it! BTW, I don’t actually think Reggie would do this, even though he’d kind of a dick in the show. So know that.

Complete credit to: @riverdale-imagining (May I have this drink?)

Warnings: drugging. swearing. force. violence. yeah, sure, let’s go with that. also, the topic is very serious and is in no way okay to do, i am not trying to naturalize the seriousness of the situation

Pairing: Archie X Reader

Originally posted by fyeahriverdale

Drinking was never your thing. You always were repulsed by the idea. So being in a room filled with drunk kids that screamed and dance as if it was their last day on earth, was definitely not something you wanted to be doing. But as a newly made River Vixen and the girlfriend of jock Archie Andrews, it was kind of an obligation you came to celebratory parties.

Which was fine. You had expected that you wouldn’t do much and more just wait on the sidelines until Archie became too drunk himself or Archie wanted to leave. You’d done it many times before, and every time it had been fine because you got rewarded with an adorable drunk Archie who would stop at nothing to make you laugh. 

You were fine with that.

Except this time, Reggie wouldn’t leave you alone. You’d found out about the tiny little crush he had on you just a week ago and even though he knew you and Archie were an item, he still tried to ask you out and spent everyday forward flirting with you. At first you’d found it funny more than anything and even a little sweet, Archie had laughed it off himself because he knew you’d never go after a guy like Reggie.

But now, you were far from amused. Leaning against a wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to ignore the presence beside you. You were clad in a pair of skinny jeans and a blouse, as you had expected to go home after the game only for Archie to drag you off here. 

You were trying to ignore Reggie, who stood beside you. He was going on about the game and how well he had done. It had been chatting your ear off for the past hour and you were about at your wits end. 

Sighing, you decided that the only way you’d get away, even if only for a few minutes, was to slip off to the bathroom. So smiling sweetly, you interrupted Reggie and excused yourself to the bathroom. 

On your way there, you passed by Cheryl who greeted you with a fake smile. You waved back, rolling your eyes at here ‘kindness’ before slipping in the bathroom. Upon coming inside, you side looking at yourself in the mirror. You were tired and exhausted and honestly right now a drink didn’t sound so bad, but you knew you’d regret it in the long run, so you pushed that thought away. You were no where near of age anyway, not that really mattered in this case.

You turned the tap on, splashing some water in your face before patting it dry. Sighing, you opened the door and slowly made your way back to your spot. Reggie was of course still there, so trying to ignore your own annoyance, you leaned against the wall again, picking up the glass of coke you had left there and taking a sip. 

You relished in the cold drink, hitting the back of your throat and swallowing. You were oddly very thirsty and which each sip it only seemed to increase, you took multiple sips, the taste suddenly very delicious. 

“So, Y/N. Don’t like alcohol that much?” Reggie asked and you had to blink to fully focus on him. Suddenly you felt sick and your legs felt weak. You pushed away the feeling, not truly understanding what was happening and instead focus on Reggie.

“No…” You slurred, placing your cup down and holding onto the wall when it became hard to stay straight. “It’s- it’s not really my thing…”

Reggie nodded and you didn’t miss the way his lips curved into a devious smirk. Suddenly you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach at the look in Reggie’s eyes. You felt him coming closer and with silent panic, you let your eyes wander across the living room, trying to look for Archie only to not find his familiar blue and yellow jersey. 

“Why not?” Reggie asked, coming so close that your shoulders bumped into each other. “I’m sure you’d be plenty of fun, all drunk and all.” Your muscles were giving up on you and you felt the world spinning. You had the sudden urge to throw up, but sucked it back down. Your eyes still on the crowd in front of you, you felt cornered.

Why had you chose to hang out in the secluded area of the house? Oh, that’s right, to get away from everyone.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Reggie asked, his voice feigning innocence. You ignore the shoot of panic that shot through your body, and tried to take a step back. Your leg gave out on you, and you nearly fell before Reggie’s hand wound themselves around your waist, pulling you upwards against his body. You placed your hands against his chest and tried to convince yourself that you were overreacting and Reggie could help you. But you couldn’t ignore the way Reggie’s eyes scanned over you and he almost seemed proud. 

“Wher- Where’s Archie?” You asked, just wanting to see your boyfriend. 

“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him this whole time, actually.” Reggie shrugged, pushing you further against him when you stumbled. His head went into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses as you squirmed. You blinked, trying to locate what was happening and where you were. Everything was spinning and it felt like you might pass out any moment.

“S-Stop, let me go.” You tried pushing him away, but you were so weak nothing happened. “Please, I need to find Archie.” You words were slurred and almost inaudible. but you knew Reggie understood by the way his lips upturned into a grin.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You’ll be find. I’ll take care of you.” He reassured as he begin to pull you away from the crowd. You tried to fight him but everything was a blur and you began to loose feeling in you arms and legs. You became so weak that Reggie just started carrying you away. 

“Y/N!” A voice boomed in the rather loud room, you blinked, recognizing the voice. “Reggie! What the hell man?” Blinking, you were suddenly set down and you were leaning heavily against Reggie. It was a mess of different shapes but you caught sight of the familiar blue and yellow jacket and narrowing your eyes, you recognized Archie standing in front of you.

“Oh, Archie. We were actually just looking for you.” Reggie explained, and you shook your head. You were suddenly let go and stumbling you felt yourself fall into another persons arm, only except this time the arms felt warm. Safe. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see Archie and it felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Really?” Archie asked, his voice suspicious. You leaned heavily against him as his arm came around your waist and he hefted you up, supporting you. “What did you do to her? Did you drug her?” Archie’s angry voice rumbled out and you could feel the power behind his voice as your head fell into his neck.

“Of course not. Archie I found her like that. You should watch your girlfriend more carefully, there are a lot of dangerous predators.” With that Reggie walked away but not without sending one last gaze towards Archie, a hidden, threatening meaning behind his eyes.

You mumbled against Archie, feeling yourself slipping out of consciousness and before you knew it all you saw was black.

When you woke up, you were warm and you were comfy. You blinked, sitting up and holding your head when a rush of pain shot through. You groaned, hating how groggy you felt as you surveyed your surroundings. You were in Archie’s room, it was easy enough to recognize. The only thing is you couldn’t remember how you’d gotten here or why you felt so gross.

“You’re awake!” Archie’s familiar voice called out and turning you saw him making his way over to you. He held out a cup of tea which you gratefully accepted, still narrowing your eyes at the pain.

“What happened?” You asked, clearly confused. “Why am I here?”

“Y/N… that bastard he really did drug you.” Your eyes widened at the word ‘drug’ and snapped your gaze over to Archie. 

“Drugged?” You asked, concerned. You felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

“Reggie. We went to a party last night and i left you. Oh god, Y/N, I should’ve never left you.”

You tried to recall what the hell Archie was speaking about, but you couldn’t. You remembered going to a party, that you recalled and you did remember Archie leaving you quite early on. But then… oh god, Reggie. Reggie had been with you and then you went off to the bathroom, and that’s all you could remember.

“Reggie drugged me?” You asked, your heart beating. The thought that he could’ve done something to you. Could’ve sexually assaulted you gave you chills. And staring at Archie with tears in your eyes, you watched him nod. “Oh god…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I promise to never leave you alone like that again.”

“Did he do anything?”

“No!” Archie yelled, frantically shaking his head. “Well no, I don’t think so. I got to you just as he was leading you out of the house.” Sobbing against your hand, you fell against Archie. Him wrapping his arms around you as you hugged him.

“I love you…”You whispered, finally feeling as if it was the time.

“I love you too.”

I Won't Hurt (M)

yoongi (& taehyung), 8.3k, yoongi us a rich kid and only knows about getting his own way

warning: smut, mentions of death and murder, mention of drugs, mention of family problems

one | two | three | tbc

Let me show you how much I care, please. I’ll do anything. I want you. I want to be out of prison and be with you. Only you.”

Originally posted by bwiseoks

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Come Back to Me Pt 1

Cassian Andor x Reader

Summary: Y/N and her team are sent to Scarif in the place of Cassian, her boyfriend, and his team to retrieve the Death Star plans. The plans are successfully transmitted, but things go awry in the end and Y/N ends up with a lost memory. Will she make it back to Cassian?  

Warnings: Curse words

A/N: Thank you to @ly–canthrope  for requesting this fic! Love this girl! This will also be maybe a four part story. Please enjoy!

I do not own anything!!!

Originally posted by kyloshipsreylo

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So, recently I handed in my dissertation. This was the biggest piece of work that I have ever done. I wrote 10,000 words on the topic of women’s friendship in the early modern period as presented in letters. And let me tell you, it was tough. Incredibly so. But it was manageable! And it can be for you too! If you plan to go into higher education, writing a dissertation, thesis, or project, is inevitable. So I’m here to tell you how to plan and execute a huge piece of work. As my background is primarily History, this will be more about humanities than sciences. But I hope that I can help you out!

Choosing a topic:

  • Choose something you like. Because by the end of it, you’re going to be sick of it. And, trust me, it’s better to be sick of something you’re actually interested in.
  • Look at the stuff you’ve done in the past and think about what you liked about each module. Gender? Politics? Semantics? The great thing about a dissertation is that you can explore which ever topic you feel like.
  • Research. Read everything you can on the topic. When you think you’ve read enough, read some more. The more you research, the better idea you’ll have as to whether your topic is viable. Google scholar is awesome, use it! And Jstor. And your university library. You have so much material at your fingertips, you just gotta find it.
  • Look at which sources are available to you. I stupidly chose a question which was very difficult to research. This was okay, as I was passionate about the topic and willing to travel to archives. But if you can’t think of anything to write about, maybe see what primary material is available to you at your university/college.
  • Originality is key for a huge piece of work like this. This is the most difficult part of choosing a topic, in my opinion. Think of something that hasn’t been done before, or come to a new conclusion. Trust yourself, your opinions are valid!
  • Primary sources are the most important thing here. Read them before you read too much secondary material. This way, you can find your own opinions on the subject without just appropriating what has been already said.
  • Talk to people who know what they’re talking about. Your university pays lots of professors whose job it is to advise you. Go and talk to them! They may be able to give you some new perspective.

Planning your essay:

How do you eat an elephant?

One bite at a time.

This is the most important thing I can say to anyone planning a huge piece of work. If you do a little bit every week, then you’ll be fine. You DO NOT want to find yourself a week from the deadline, with still 5,000 words to write. I know some people who did that, and they suffered. Badly. So keep plugging away at it, and you’ll get it done in time. Here are a few tips which I learned the hard way…

  • Give yourself plenty of time to research. I spent 3 months just reading before I even thought about making a solid plan. Only after doing loads of reading and thinking can you come up with a way to tie together everything you’ve learned.
  • When making a plan, decide how many words to devote to each “chapter.” This means you won’t go over the word limit. And editing is the worst.
  • I made quite a long detailed plan in order to structure my thoughts. That plan became my bible. It might not work for you though.
  • This is my favourite way of planning my essays. It’s such a useful guide, so simple, and so helpful. Give it a look! I’ve been using a similar technique since I started uni, but this is better tbh.
  • When researching, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, write down where you found the information. Page numbers, author, publisher, date of publication, editions, chapter titles, chapter page numbers. I spent 4 days after I had written the whole thing just trying to find this one God damn article which I had read nearly a year ago. It was a nightmare.Please. Record the bibliographical information.
  • Write all the important dates in your diary/phone. I also used “monthly reminders” so I was constantly aware of how long I had left.
  • Give yourself a week to edit and create your bibliography. It’s nice to edit at your own pace, not at a rush.
  • Give yourself lots of room for disasters! When I was planning my essay, I had no idea that I was going to break my arm, and be in cast for half of the year. I obviously did not predict that. But I had an adaptable schedule, which really helped me.
  • And make sure to regularly back everything up! I lost a load of work and it sucked so bad. Don’t let that happen to you.

The Writing:

  • Give yourself your own deadlines. Say that you need to have written the first chapter three months before the deadline, or something like that. This means that you won’t be rushing at the end, and you might be able to give drafts of chapters to your supervisor to read over.
  • It’s alright if you don’t write perfectly on the first try. Splurge your ideasall over the paper! Freewrite everything you want to say. And then, after a cup of tea or a nap, come back to it. You’ll feel much better for it.
  • You don’t have to start at the beginning. Maybe write the chapter that you have the most information for first, to give yourself some confidence. Or, maybe start with the worst first, to make the rest seem less daunting. It’s up to you, both strategies have merit.
  • Daily word counts are great when you’re reaching the deadline. I knew I had to write 150 words every day in order to hit the deadline - I exceeded this every day, which made me feel awesome about myself and gave myself loads of confidence.
  • Talk to people about it! I find that talking about my opinions out loud really help me formulate my ideas in my head.
  • Do loads of proof reading. I discovered two days before the deadline that I had been spelling “amicitia” wrong consistently. It was pretty embarrassing.
  • Ask your friends/family to read it through. Even if they don’t  understand everything, they should be able to help with grammatical errors and such like. When you’re sick of reading your own words (which is very quickly for me) you’ll be thankful for the second opinion.


McHanzo Week 2017, Day 2: Canon Divergence || AU - (Stardew Valley).

When Lena Oxton retired from the military due to an injury, she took up her grandfather’s offer to look after the farm. So she headed for the country, found the farm, and met Jesse McCree, the owner and bartender of the High Noon Saloon in town.

In her many forays to town, she noticed the reclusive Hanzo Shimada, who lived on the beach in a cottage, usually spent long evenings in the bar with McCree. There was even several times, on her run down to the beach to catch a squid or any other fish, she saw McCree wandering back to the Saloon, still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

She’s happy they’re happy, and the town is great! Even the weird smoke and shadow monster who lives in sewers, who sells high quality sprinklers, so many shotguns, and gives her tips on how to make artisan goat cheese.

Especially the cute redhead who lives in a cabin in the forest.

thirty days of skam fic: day two

beginning. accusation. restless. leaves. rainbow. flame. formal. under. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. soft. cans. order. thanks. pink. summer. transformation. tremble. tent. mad. thousand. paper. winter. luxury. letters. promise. simple. future.


[ 13.07.17 – 10:03 – from: even <3 ]
hey babe, did you take my favourite hoodie? that grey one?

Perched on the sofa with his feet tucked up and his snapback covering most of his face, Isak takes a moment to look down at the soft grey sleeves stretched over his hands, and fiddles with his phone.

[ 13.07.17 – 10:04 – to: even <3 ]
nope. it’s probably in the wash

In his defence, these are extenuating circumstances – going away for a week to a cabin with the guys had sounded like a great idea when they all agreed to it, until Even couldn’t get the time off from his summer job, and all of a sudden it was just Isak, Jonas, Mahdi and Magnus going to hang out in the woods somewhere.  Isak loves his friends, he does.  But he hasn’t spent a whole week apart from Even since they got together, and the mere thought had sent him into a spiral of sadness before they even left.  He never wanted to be that boyfriend, that ridiculously co-dependant idiot who can’t even handle a few days apart, but by this point he might just have to accept that’s what he’s become.  It’s not his fault.  Even just makes him feel so comfortable, and leaving that feeling behind is no fun.

So that morning, ridiculously early when Jonas texted that he was outside Isak’s flat in the car they were borrowing to drive up there, Isak had taken preemptive measures.  It was before the sun had even risen, so Even just barely woke up enough to kiss Isak goodbye before falling right back into a dead sleep – and as Isak had crept out of the flat, trying not to wake him, he’d grabbed Even’s favourite hoodie off the floor on his way out. 

Keep reading


She meets with Joanne and Caleb before sunrise. They’re just starting to organize their people, gathering up tents and supplies for the journey ahead, but they still step aside with her when she approaches.

“I’m not going far,” Scully says. “I need to find a town with a radio transmitter.”

They exchange looks. “Shouldn’t be too hard,” Caleb says finally. “Your people know you’re going?”

Scully didn’t ask permission. She’s not even sure who she would ask; there’s no clear hierarchy, and as the only doctor she’s inclined to think she’s the equal of anyone else here.

More importantly, she strongly suspects that if she did ask, they’d say no. It’s been months since she was “strongly discouraged” from going out on supply missions; since then, people have been visibly on edge whenever she so much as sets foot outside the gate. The guards — who are supposed to keep people out — do a good job keeping an eye on Scully, too.

That feeling, somewhere at the back of her neck, that people are watching everything she does: it’s so familiar, it’s almost reassuring.

So all she says is, “I’m coming back.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” He’s looking down at her with his arms crossed. Caleb has a military air, stern and serious, but Scully’s well accustomed to saying no to men like him.

“And I didn’t ask you for an opinion. If you won’t take me, then I’ll find another group to travel with. My skills are valuable.” This is mostly a bluff. Groups don’t come through here all that often; she could be waiting for weeks. She’d probably end up going alone, which is a far more dangerous prospect.

Caleb looks unmoved, so she takes the nuclear option. “That girl with you,” Scully says.

“Lotsa girls with us.”

Scully narrows her eyes. “The pregnant one.”

Caleb and Joanne exchange a glance.

The girl in question looks about eighteen, Will’s age; blonde and slender except for the baby, with a fearful look in her eyes. A doe facing down a rifle. Scully says, “That’s her first baby.”

Quick, like she doesn’t mean to say it out loud, Joanne says: “She’s my daughter.”

Scully nods, purses her lips. “She’s what, thirty-nine, forty weeks? It could be any day now. What are the chances you happen to be passing through a town when she needs help?”

Caleb says, “We’ve had women give birth before.”

Scully ignores him and makes eye contact with Joanne. “Were any of them your daughter?”

When they set out an hour later, Scully brings a bag of medical supplies and hops into one of the covered carts just to get out of the compound. She knows Will will have to answer for her absence, and she’s sorry for it. It’s not fair, he’d said. For her to leave him here by himself to make excuses for her, to take on her responsibilities: of course it’s not fair. But that doesn’t mean she has any choice.

She doesn’t see him before she leaves.

They travel for a week.

On foot, the days are long, and they don’t make much progress. By the time night falls Scully’s feet and hips are aching, and she feels every one of her fifty-five years. Back in the day she could’ve done this in heels.

They stop at every settlement they pass, sometimes just for a few hours. Overnight, if they can hack it: nights on the open road feel even longer than the days, and more dangerous. At every stop Scully dispenses homemade medicine, sets bones, examines old wounds. For someone who spent most of her medical career with the dead, she’s a surprisingly good frontier doctor.

At every settlement she asks about the radio; at every settlement they shake their heads. Everyone’s listening and no one is speaking.

On the eighth day, as she presses a foul-smelling poultice into a cut on a man’s shin — he got it from a chain-link fence, and what she’d give for a few doses of tetanus vaccine in the new world — he tells her, “Sure, there’s a station a few miles down the road. Maybe a day’s travel.”

She keeps working. Says, casually: “You’re sure?”

He nods. “Some of those Bible people. I bet you’ve heard ‘em some nights. They’d probably let you use it. Don’t know what it would cost.”

I’ll pay it, she thinks, whatever it is.

After he’s bandaged up he draws a map in her notebook. The town is in the direction they’re traveling, more or less, and she traces the lines with her finger. So close.

“Dr. Scully!” It’s one of the kids from the caravan, breathing heavily, like he ran here. He looks nervous. Most of them act that way around her; she’s not sure why. “You gotta come out. Something’s wrong.”

She dog-ears the page with the map — she used to hate when Mulder did that — and shoves the notebook into her pocket, keeping it close.

The kid breaks out in a run, and Scully follows.

anonymous asked:

yuuuuuuuri 2!

Yuuri learned to cook from Hiroko and as such can do it pretty well. Not as good as Hiroko but I imagine he helps a lot with foodprep at Yu-Topia so if nothing else he can chop and mince and boil with the best of them. There’s also a possibly that Yuuri doesn’t think he can cook as well as his mother because the dishes always come out tasting slightly different but it’s just because he’s making it in a different place with different cookware and he’s a different person. Anybody who’s been cooking for long enough knows that there are subtle differences in a dish depending on who makes it–not for better or for worse, just different. Even if you follow the same recipe, something will always be a little different.

Also, though, also–Yuuri spent entire weeks his freshman year of college subsisting off of ramen and cheese on bread. This is before he gets any major sponsorships and he didn’t want to ask his parents for extra money for food. Celestino noticed that he wasn’t gaining enough muscle mass in training, though, and that he was getting sick quite often. When he found out he called Hiroko HIMSELF and asked if they were having trouble paying for Yuuri’s college expenses because he would help them as best he could–he would reduce his coaching fee or something, because damn.

Hiroko’s response is basically to say WAHT and ask Celestino to find her son and put him on the phone. It’s one of only three times in Yuuri’s life that his mother has really, noticeably raised her voice to him.


ALRIGHT LISTEN real quick fam. I’ve been “learning the ropes” with my rom hacking tools in the last several weeks and I though it was time I give yall a small update. For those who don’t know the name of the game I’m making is Pokemon Project Gene (Logo not final). Its obviously gonna have pokemon fusions in it and will release next year maybe. please do not steal the logo I spent time on it lmao. Edit: and yeah I know nintendo will probably EXTERMINATE this a day after my hard work pays off but….They’ll never stop me from trying to make this in the first place.

In health and in illness



Prompt: Matthew helps the reader through a POTS episode

@overcastmisfitkid @paradiselover-18

A/n: I didn’t know about POTS and I was really glad that the girl who requested me it told me about this illness. 


That evening you were cooking dinner for you and your husband. That was a period where he was barely home and when he was, you wanted to make it special.
Lasagna was in the oven and you had just finished to cook the dessert when you decided to turn the television on for then sitting on the sofa listening to the breaking news.
You were so into the last news that you couldn’t even heard the door of your house open.

It was Matthew who just came home after a week spent in New Orleans and when he closed the wooden door of your house he could smell in the air that you cooked something delicious. He always used to tell you to not bother to make him dinner or cook him big meals because he just could imagine how hard was for you spoiling him with lots of food. But you were a wife and your job was to spoil your beloved husband who you hadn’t seen for an entire week.

‘And we have a last minute news! Just an hour ago the inmates of a prison in Mexico started a riot against the rules of…’

He was standing in the living room looking how concentrate you were listening to the television and he couldn’t help but smile.
To play, he covered your eyes with his big soft hands and the second he did so, you jumped scared.

“Guess who?” he said laughing.

“Matthew! You scared me. When did you come in?”

“Just a couple of minutes ago. But now come in, I want to kiss my wife.”

When you jumped over the sofa to stand in front of him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and you could feel his hand running to wrap your waist and then the last thing that you had to do was to attach to each other lips. You missed his taste and you could tell he missed yours too because he could barely take a break from the kiss. Just when you needed to breath you stopped and he lied his forehead to yours to look in your eyes and at that moment you could see his worried face.

“You’re hot sweetie.”

“And you have to say it with that face? I thought you were more romantic.”

“No (y/n), you are literally hot. Like, you’re burning. Are you sick?”

“This morning my temperature was a bit higher than usual but then it got lower.”

To be more sure he kissed your forehead for at the end confirming his theory. You were ill and nobody could tell the opposite.

“I’ll finish to cook and then we’ll have dinner in bed.” he stated going to the kitchen to find out you were cooking lasagna.

“But Matthew I am good! We can have dinner here.”

“Case closed sweetie. Dinner in bed. With you under the sheets and with some medicines above your bedside table. We both know how you are when you’re sick.”

You ended up as he told. You ate under the blankets in your bedroom while watching Netflix and when you were done with the pasta you finally ate the dessert you knew he’d have loved.

After a couple episodes of Santa Clarita Diet, you were about to fall asleep on Matthew’s chest with your hand wrapped to his t-shirt.

“I’ll be back soon. I need to go the bathroom.”

So you moved the sheets away and put your feet on the cold pavement ready to stand up.
But when you did. You could see the armchair in front of you starting moving and the pavement doing moves from up and down.
It was a weird sensation, as you were high and everything that was happening was not real. Fortunately behind you there was the mattress which helped you when you fell down because you were not able to stay up.

“Are you ok?” you could hear Matthew saying in a high tone of voice, looking at the scene in front of him.

You used to have these ‘episodes’. When it happened the first time while you were with him some years before he just said: “We can survive this. I’ll help you through it, I promise.”

And he always did, as he did that time. He helped you lying on the bed with a cold wet rag above your forehead holding your hand in his.
Your eyes could barely stay open because you felt too tired but you fought it.
You fought because you knew Matthew would have taken you medicine against POTS as soon as possible and you were sure you’d have been ok soon. It always went that way.

“Just breath, ok? It always helps. I promise you will be ok soon (y/n), like the last time.”

“At least, the temperature is lower that the last time.” You said matter-of-factly.

“Tomorrow I’ll call the doctor and book and appointment.”

“For what? For hearing another time again there is no cure for what I have?” you tried to let out a laugh, but you failed evidently.

“I know how mad you are when your episodes show up, but they are a part of you and we have to deal with them too.”

“But every time you always have to run home from work to cure me, or when you are out with your friends. Even when you were in the middle of a doctor appointment. It is not the life you wanted, having to think about me 24/7 wondering how soon I’ll feel bad again.”

“But it is the life I chose. Do you remember what the priest said that day? In health and in illness. I love you when you’re health and when you’re ill. Ok, POTS does not have any cure, but we can make it work. We always made it since the first time. So now get some sleep and if you need to go somewhere or something, just wake me up, ok love?”

He was right, he loved you. In health and in illness.