#s/o to the last like 20 seconds of Doubt Comes In for making me tear up every goddamn time :thumbsup:

[ccrv-7]

god DAMN i need to rewatch hadestown bc i cannot just keep listening to the bway cast recording + the myth the musical live over and over again. its doing genuine damage to my capacity for listening to music

[undertaker1827]

Could you do 15 20 and 23 for Undertaker and their s/o finding out he is a grim reaper not being afraid of him bec she knew from the very moment they met, he was different and accepted that from the very start. [sorry for my english]

Of course! And your English is great! Also I kinda got carried away (there’s around 2k words) I just loved the prompt. Enjoy! 

Prompts in bold

❗️Warnings; Canon-typical violence, reader gets attacked/minorly injured (UT saves the day, tis all good), said attacker gets knocked unconscious and doubting & hurt/comfort-ing ensues, but there’s a fluffy end I promise

Masterlist

-

Your steps echoed through the dark, empty city streets, not a soul about apart from you. It was to be expected, you supposed; after all, it was midnight. You had been out with a few friends and the time had just slipped away from you all until you remembered that you had work in the morning and you needed to get home quickly. Having not intended to be so long, the only mode of transport was either walking or getting a taxi, and the latter seemed a little ridiculous to you given that your apartment was only just around the corner. That led to where you were now, taking a shortcut through a less than advisable area of town so you would get home quickly.

There was a sudden scuffle behind you and your whole body tensed, heart jumping and mind racing with possibilities. You risked taking a glance behind you, doing your best to slow your breathing when you realised nothing was there. Unnerved but determined, you carried on at a slightly faster pace and focused on getting to the door of your building, which was now only a few minutes away, less if you were to walk any more quickly. The second noise you heard behind you was closer than the first and enough to set your every nerve on edge.

Nausea crawled up the back of your throat when you distinctly sensed someone following you, heard their footfalls as they broke into a run and felt each limb start to tremble with the ensuing rush o adrenalin. You broke into a full sprint hardly daring to turn for long enough to make out any more than a figure dressed in black, face covered by fabric and holding something that glinted in the halo of light coming from the back window of someone’s workshop - - was that a knife? The thought spurred you on even more heart pounding and preparing to scream for help, but you just weren’t fast enough.

You let out a muffled yell as you were tripped up and landed unceremoniously on the concrete pavement, chin scraped and lip split as your face collided with it. You couldn’t care less about that now though, immediately twisting over and trying to haul yourself to your feet, ignoring the pain blossoming from the ankle you landed on. Again though, you were too slow; a hand pressed to your mouth and a steel blade to your throat prevented any escape attempts you were going to make. Your eyes widened in fear and you desperately tried to press yourself further back into the concrete, but it was no good.

“Stay still,” your attacker hissed out at you, digging the knife a little further into your neck, “and be quiet.”

You hands gripped his wrist automatically, fingers trembling, but both your attentions were drawn by the arrival of a second person. You looked over your shoulder to find a man silhouetted at the near end of the backstreet you were in, a large, familiar coat flaring out around him and one arm out to the side, holding a… stick? Whatever your attacker was going to say, be it a warning to leave or a lie that this wasn’t what it looked like, the other spoke before he had the chance.

“I will say this once, and once only,” he said in a cold, hard voice, so different from his normal joking tone and one you hadn’t ever heard him use before. “Let them go.” Each word was pronounced individually, as if being made clear to a child who was likely to misunderstand. He took a step forward to punctuate each one, now close enough that you could see the grey hair that draped over his shoulders and hung down his back. The stick was a sotoba, you realised, you had seen a few of them scattered around his parlour. You always thought they were there for the aesthetic.

Fear still coursed through you, but now it was for your long term partner as well as yourself. What did he hope to accomplish against a man who held a knife to your throat?

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you go before you cause anymore bloodshed.” This was accompanied by a poignant press of the knife to your neck, a single, hot drop of blood trailing don your skin. And there was something else you never expected to see displayed by your beloved Undertaker. Pure, barely restrained rage.

You hardly managed to keep track of the events that unfolded, but one minute he was standing there a few paces away and the next he was right next to you. The knife dropped to the floor with a clatter and your attacker let out a cry of pain. If the angle of it was anything to go by, his wrist was both dislocated and broken. You couldn’t help the way your eyes widened as the mortician grabbed the man by his collar and held him as high into the air as possible, then threw him back against the brick wall of the building he had been holding you against just moments earlier. You floundered for a second or two before realising there was a massive blade held to the man’s throat, a polished silver that curved gracefully into a human skull and ribcage, the spine of which had been whittled down to a handle that was easily as long as you were tall. The sotoba was gone.

As your gaze trailed back up Undertaker’s form, you came to a second realisation. His bangs were shoved back away from his face and you could see his eyes. And they were glowing. He seemed utterly detached from the man’s frightened whimpering, as if his begging made no sound at all.

“You thought it would be fun, I believe,” he stated in confident mockery, “to pick on someone weaker than yourself. How does it feel now, hm?” The mortician let him drop down a few inches as his hand found purchase on his throat, grip tightening until you could see it was a physical struggle to breath. “How dare you.” The last had fallen to a threatening whisper, Undertaker’s face far too close to the other’s. You could see the man’s struggle was weakening, the lack of air starting to have its effect. “I won’t kill you,” Undertaker muttered at length, “you aren’t worth my time.”

With that, he let go entirely, disinterested gaze watching as the man crumpled to the floor. His eyes then flicked over to you, taking in the hand you were holding to your throat and the fear practically radiating off of you in waves. He fancied he could hear your heartbeat even as you stood several steps away. The mortician languidly held out a hand as he said your name, waiting until you moved towards him to pull you into his chest.

You thought you had only blinked once, but in that fraction of a second, all of your surroundings had changed. It was Undertaker’s parlour that you were standing in now, not some dingy side street with a man who had tried to kill you now laying unconscious against a wall. The mortician stepped away from you quickly, a little too quickly really, and moved to lay the scythe against a coffin. You stood still, unsure what to do after everything that had just taken place and unprepared with the intensity that would come from your partner’s gaze when he turned back around on his heel to face you.

“Are you alright?” It was still the same, serious voice from before, though now instead of being laced with anger, all you could hear was concern. Your fingertips drifted back to your throat as you contemplated whether you actually were alright or not, though you frowned when Undertaker went to reach towards you then stopped, almost as if catching himself from doing something he knew he shouldn’t. Your frown only deepened when he stayed an arm’s length away. Physical contact was always something he had loved, craved even, so why he was acting so strangely now when you could really do with the contact you didn’t know. You made the executive decision then that his bizarre reasoning didn’t matter, opting to close the distance between you and wrap your arms securely around his body, head tucked into his shoulder and eyes closed. You were still shaking and Undertaker ached with a deep, broken sadness so strong that he didn’t realise he was once again raising his arms to hold you. He dropped them immediately, but you were still just standing there and now it seemed like you were holding back tears as well and everything he did was just making things worse -

“Fox?” You whimpered out the name you had adopted for him past the obvious lump in your throat and he could have sworn that he had never felt so guilty for anything before.

“Yes?” His voice was hoarse too.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, but please just hold me.” Your words were so small and frightened, something in the reaper just snapped. A hand on your side brought you impossibly closer to his and he hauled you up into his arms, one hand supporting your back and the other carding back through your hair as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He pressed his nose against your neck, avoiding the injured part, and left a series of gentle kisses there as sobs started to wrack your frame. You had no idea how long you stayed like that but over time, you became aware of the reaper murmuring the same set of words against your skin, over and over again.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

He was holding you so tightly that something in him was afraid he might hurt you, but you were holding him in return and he couldn’t bring himself to let go. Your tears having finally subsided, you tilted your head to leave a kiss on his jaw, halting his flow of words.

“Stop apologising, you have nothing to be sorry for.” The chartreuse eyes that met yours were full of so many different emotions that it was almost overwhelming. He moved a hand to cup your face, thumb carefully brushing over your lower lip.

“You’re not afraid of me?” Your stomach dropped at the fact that he thought you would be.

“You’ve given me no reason to be.” He looked for a moment like he didn’t want to believe you, so you took his face in your hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, relief flooding you when he kissed you back. “I knew you were different,” you continued, not breaking eye contact, “I’ve always known. I just didn’t know how.” The mortician gave a small nod.

“I’m a reaper,” he told you, “retired. It was my job among many others to collect the souls of the dead.” You just nodded, smiling a little. He let out a sigh as his eyes caught the crimson staining on your neck. “Let me do something with that.” Another smile.

“Thank you.”

-

Undertaker cleaned and covered your wound efficiently but with gentle hands, making sure he didn’t hurt you. From the angle your head was at to give him best access to your injury, you could just see the top of his grey hair, feel its weight over your legs as he leaned close to you. You started running your hands through it and playing with the ends almost subconsciously, missing the small glance he gave you out of the corner of his eye.

The mortician only moved back a fraction when he finished seeing to your neck, close enough that you could still play with his hair. Close enough that he could see you rather than sense you and do so without the need for corrective lenses. You looked straight back at him though, and stole the words he was going to speak before he had the chance.

“You’re so beautiful.” He tilted his head affectionately, a few strands of hair crossing his eyes and leading you to push them out of the way. The reaper leaned into your touch immediately and you buried your hand in his hair, fingertips trailing over the roots. His eyes were soft when he opened them again.

“You’re the beautiful one, love.”

[rudypankwow]

climb through my window (pt. 2) | jj maybank

not my gif! (i think it was posted by ssjiara)

warnings: s l o w b u r n, briefly talks about violence and abuse (bc it’s jj and his dad’s a meanie)

word count: 2.7k

masterlist, pt 1, pt 3

a/n: i know the beginning is also a little slow, but pls stick with me bc after this it’s gonna be so good! jj comes in at the end, and from this point on he’ll be the main focus of every part. but i had to set up the story :) also big thanks to kay bc i complained about this nonstop for the last few days sorry kay ly

Yelling was something you had become well acquainted with in the last year and a half. It was your sister’s fault. She didn’t stick to the plan.

“She was always supposed to go to Yale and she’s still going to Yale!” your mom shouted, her hands practically slamming on the table. “That was always the deal,” she continued, ignoring your sigh and tense jaw, “you got Meg  and I got (y/n).”

You had moved on from the, “Isn’t it my decision?” argument long ago, instead choosing silence as your parents battled it out. When your sister, Meg, had decided to forgo college and instead spend some time traveling (she had secretly saved every penny she received from presents, allowances, paychecks, etc), your parents had moved on to you. Your mother had attended Yale and your dad Dartmouth, and the plan was always that Meg would go to Dartmouth and you’d go to Yale. It was a whole legacy student ordeal. It didn’t matter anyway, because your sister had ruined it. You were only a junior, and the school year was still a week away from starting, this was your reality for the time being.

“Well I think she’d like Dartmouth more, anyway,” your dad said. He didn’t even look up from his plate. “New Hampshire has way more to offer than Connecticut.”

Your mom on the other hand, was red in the face. Her arms were flailing, pointing her fork at you and your dad. “You’ve hardly even been to Connecticut, how in the hell would you know?”

“I just know it is, who goes to Connecticut for fun?” your dad continued. “New Hampshire has way more to-”

“You know what?” you cut them off. They both turn to look at you. Every time they get into these arguments, they wait for your input, for a final “I’m going here,” but it’s not coming today. Instead, you say, “I’m leaving.” You stand up from the table, pushing in your chair, making sure it angrily scrapes against the floor. “Feel free to keep arguing on my behalf, though.”

Your favorite spot in town was a 20 minute bike ride from your house. There was a little hill you could climb up, and when you reached the top it was a beautiful view of the ocean. You sometimes brought a book and read, and other times you just laid down and enjoyed the sun. Either way, that’s where you were going.

You decided to take a different way there this time, it was a little longer but it was so nice out you didn’t mind. As you turned the corner to ride past the police station, you saw the back of a blonde head that looked a lot like JJ walking out with another man. Your heart immediately dropped, too worried about why he was walking out of the police station to be disappointed in yourself for knowing him by the back of his head.

You were still some distance away when they got into the car. Despite no longer being able to see JJ, you kept your eyes on the movement in the car. As you started to get closer, you noticed the movement you could see get more violent, causing the car to shake. You finally become parallel with the car, staying on the opposite side of the road. You were nervous to stop, scared of what you might see, but you knew you had to.

JJ was pressed against the passenger door, his hands covering his face. The man in the car, which you could only assume was his dad, was hovering over him. You could probably hear his yelling if your ears weren’t ringing. You knew what was coming next, and you tried to will it not to happen, tried to focus all the energy into the universe to make what was going to happen not happen.

His hand collided with JJ’s face anyway. Over and over again. And you couldn't look away, couldn’t stop the tears that started to form, couldn’t believe the universe for being so unfair. The police station was right there, it would be so easy to run in and get help, but you were completely frozen in your spot. 

His dad settled back into his seat and you saw JJ touch his face, attempting to clean the cuts but only producing bloody hands. The car engine started, and quickly peeled away, leaving you stuck to the pavement. You stared as they turned at the end of the road and reached up to wipe the few tears that you didn’t realize had fallen.

Once your breathing finally evened out and your heart stopped pounding out of your chest, you pushed your feet off the ground and started pedaling your bike. You had forgotten where you were supposed to be going, instead just seeing where your feet took you.

You hadn’t planned on making your way to the Wreck, but before you knew it that’s what happened. You debated going in for a few minutes. You weren’t sure you wanted to explain what you just saw to Kie, though you were sure she knew. You could just not tell her, but your anxiety was without a doubt written on your face. You probably should tell her, or anyone for that matter. But on the other, was it yours to tell? 

You were still standing over your bike outside the restaurant when the front door opened. “(y/n)?” Kie’s dad called, garbage bag in hand. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Why are you just standing there? Come in!”

It snapped you out of your trance, and you nodded, stepping off the bike and walking it over to the rack. It was way less crowded than the last time you were there, especially for a Saturday. “Oh, hey, (y/n),” Kie says.

“Hey, Kie,” you said. You smile, trying to put on happy face for your friend.

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “I can make you something if you want.”

“No,” you say. You’re pretty sure any food you tried to eat right now would just come straight back up. “I was just passing by,” you continue. “Your dad invited me in and I didn’t want to upset him.”

“Oh,” she says. She stares at you for a second. “Are you okay?” You look down at the counter. “You look like you don’t feel well.”

“Yeah, I just uh-” you try to fake a laugh, “I just have a headache.”

She seems to buy it. “Well let me grab you some water and then you should head home and get some rest,” she says, raising her eyebrows at you. You give her a nod and she takes a few steps behind the counter. She hands you the bottle and takes a sip.

Before your common sense can stop you, you say, “Hey, I saw JJ mowing the Copelands’ lawn the other day and noticed he had some bruises. I don’t know if there’s any reason to worry but,” you pause, unsure of how to finish, “uh, I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to make sure he was okay?” You immediately wish you could suck the words back out of the air and take them back.

But Kie just shrugs, giving a little chuckle. “Honestly, (y/n), who knows? It’s JJ.” You smile and nod, looking back down at the counter. “Look,” she continues, “if it ever seems like he’s in trouble just let me know. But he’s usually got it figured it out.”

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “I’m honestly not even sure why I asked. Something about it just made me nervous, I guess.”

She smiles. “That’s sweet of you, really,” she pats your shoulder. “But I wouldn’t let it worry you too much, okay?”

You nod, suddenly desperate to get out of there. “I’m gonna go,” you say. “Thanks for the water.” It seems awkward, but you’re not sure what else to say.

“Let me know when you’re feeling better,” she calls as the door shuts behind you.

You lean against the side of the building once out of sight, once again trying to calm yourself down. You take a sip of the water and click on your phone to check the time. It had only been an hour since you left home, but it felt like it had been at least five. 

Unsure of what else to do, you get on your bike and start back home, stopping at the library on the way to pick up a book. Halfway through your ride, the sky seemed to open up, big drops of rain soaking you through to the bone.

When you were little, your mom used to say that it only rained when people wanted things to be washed away.

It only seemed fitting.

-------

JJ hadn’t come by to mow that Friday. It was Sunday now, and all you’d done was think about him and what you saw the day before.

School was starting in a week, and despite the fact that you almost liked school, the thought of being forced to see all the other kooks every day was enough to ruin the idea. And since junior year meant college planning, you knew tensions would be high.

Needless to say, you were dreading it.

But today, it was gorgeous outside. So, before your parents could even try to bother you, and before you spent another minute staring at the ceiling in your bedroom, you grabbed your headphones and your book and headed out to your back deck. You had made a deal with your parents long ago that any arguing had to stay in the house, so you knew you were safe outside.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on your book, your mind couldn’t stop wandering. After twenty minutes, you basically give up, dropping your book in your lap with a huff. You close your eyes and lean your head back against your chair, sighing. The sun is as burning you skin, but it’s lnice to feel something other than anxious.

Your heart just about skips a beat when you hear a lawn mower start. Your eyes open immediately and you swallow hard. Sitting up slightly, you turn your head to look at the house next door.

And, of course, there he is, two days late, mowing the lawn. Part of you hoped that you’d be able to avoid seeing him for the rest of the week after what you saw yesterday.

You’re trying your hardest to not stare, you don’t want him to catch you again, but you need to see his face. He’s actually wearing a shirt this time, which is a bad sign. You can’t remember the last time he wore a shirt while mowing in the summertime. You can’t quite see his face yet, so you turn around and pretend to read your book, waiting for the sound of the mower to get closer. When it does, you try to peek over. He’s still a bit too far away, but you think you can see a dark spot on the side of his temple. It makes your stomach turn.

You did have one thought in the back of your mind, but it was borderline crazy, nevermind how it would make you look. You had been mulling it over for the past few days, but always dismissed it immediately. Seeing him here, however, a dark bruise on his face and likely countless others across his chest, made that horrible idea seem not so horrible.

Your feet were moving before you knew it, before you could stop them.. You always felt like there was a magnet drawing you into him, but up until now you’d tried your hardest to act against it. 

“JJ!” you called. Your palms were starting to sweat. In all honesty, you had no idea what you were doing, but for some reason you were still doing it.

He turns around, shutting off the lawn mower when he sees you standing there. “Oh, hi,” he says, thinking for a minute. “(y/n), right? You’re friends with Kie?” You nod. He thinks for another minute and smiles. “You’re that girl I always catch staring at me?” The smirk on his face tells you everything you needed to know. You knew he had noticed a few times, but had no clue he’d picked up on a pattern.

Your eyes go wide and you shake your head. “Uh, no,” you try to be casual, “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.” He could probably hear your pulse from where he was standing.

“No,” he continues, nodding, “you almost crashed your car into your garage the other day because you were staring at me.” His hands are crossed against his chest and he’s smiling wildly.

“No,” you say say again. “No, I was just,” you can’t come up with anything good, “looking at the Copeland’s dog. It had gotten out,” you finish, knowing the Copeland’s have never had a dog, not for as long as you’d lived next to them.

He clearly knew this too, because he answers, “The Copeland’s doing have a dog, (y/n).”

“Okay, well, that’s beside the point,” you say, shaking your head again and waving your hands. His eyes are wide when you look back up at him, and you sigh, seriously regretting whatever it was you were doing. “Look,” you continue, “I came over here because I wanted to tell you,” you pause, your hands are shaking. You take a deep breath. “I saw you. The other day. Outside the police station. With your dad.” You can’t say the whole thing at once, cause you think the weight of the words might poison all the air around you. “At least I thought it was your dad, anyway,” you say, looking down at your feet.

“Look,” he says, taking a step forward, “please don’t-”

“Wait,” you interrupt, because you think if you don’t finish you might never get out the words, “just let me finish, please?” You look at him and he nods. You exhale, still not believing the words you were about to say. “If you ever need somewhere to crash, for whatever reason, my window is the last one to the left on the back side of the house. It’s easy to climb in. I’ve done it a few times before.” He looks completely thrown off. “I just know how Kie’s dad is, and I know how Mr. Heyward can sometimes be a pain, and after what happened to John B-” you falter. “I just figured you might need somewhere to stay from time to time,” you explain. “I have a couch in my room and I promise not to ask questions.”

There’s a pause. He finally says, “Okay,” and when you look up at him he’s got that same smirk he did before.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, pointing a finger at him. “You will be sleeping on the couch, believe that.”

His smirk doesn’t dissipate as he nods. “Sure,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, my god, I’m leaving now.” You turn and start walking away, resting your hand on your chest, trying to calm your heart rate.

“Hey, (y/n)?” he calls after you. Reluctantly, you turn back. He’s got a different look now, less cocky. “You were close with Sarah, right?” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you say, “we used to be best friends when we were little.” You hadn’t been that close with her in a long time, but you don’t tell him that.

“Do you think they’re,” he drops his hands by his side, sighing, “you know-”

“Dead?” you ask.

He rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah, but I was trying not to say the word.”

You smile a little, brushing some hair out of your face. “No, I don’t,” you say simply.

He nods, looking down at the ground, and gives you a smile. “Last window to the left, right?” he asks. “On the back side of the house?”

You try to stop the smile that’s threatening to engulf your face. “Yeah.”

You turn around, walking back to your deck. You hear the lawn mower start. Your feet feel like they’re no longer touching the ground. You have no idea if he’ll come, and you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, but you feel better knowing you’ve offered, that he has the option.

And the thought of getting to see his face more sure doesn’t hurt.

taglist!! please inbox me to be on the tag list!!!! if it’s not an inbox it won’t go on the list!

@o-b-x​ @dolanfivsosxox​ @casualcolorstarfish​ @timotaychalabae​ @sarahsmaybank​

[burning-omen]

Break the Rules part 2

Peter Parker x Male!Mob boss!reader

Summary: The next morning with reader, Peter, a unexpected (and unwanted) guest, and an even less welcome anxiety attack....fun, right?

Warning: a little bit of anxiety and a small anxiety attack. OH AND GUNS! I ALMOST FORGOT! Murder threats and mentions too!

Part 1

Word count: 2879

A/n: Writers block is kicking my a*s so part 3 might take longer. Also, there’s a scene that I f*cking hate so much, like reading makes me want to cringe so hard, there’s nothing wrong with it, I just wish I went somewhere else with this chapter.

Oh, Peter also forgets his pants at some point, just a little heads up.

Last time: You settled down in your own bedroom, hanging your coat and tie up by the door before drifting off to sleep.

Now:

The next morning you woke up, only to hear Peter loudly exclaim “what the hell!” From the other room.

You groaned then sat up, still hearing Peter panicking in the other room. You made your way to him, only to see him sitting on the bed with the most panicked expression you’ve ever seen on a human person.

“Peter...relax yourself..”

His eyes snapped over to you. “Where am I?!”

“Fucking Christ…” you groaned. You’d woken up with a headache that felt far too similar to a hangover for you liking. “...you’re in my house. Yours was swarming with police and I wouldn’t want them to see me or you. Understand?”

He nodded slowly.

“Good, so you're done yelling then?”

He flushed red then nodded with a small chuckle.

“Sorry…”

Groaning again, you said, “it’s fine, just come down stairs when you're ready, okay?”

“O-okay..”

“Great..” with that you walked out of the room.

You honestly had no idea why you were being so nice to Peter. You’ve never shown this kind of hospitality to anyone before. So all of this was very new to you.

Maybe this had something to do with the sudden thought you had last night.

You walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. The entire bottom floor had been completely illuminated by sunlight making cooking yourself and your guest a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and sausage a lot easier. You were a little surprised that there was food in the house. Then you remembered that you’d been paying your neighbors to bring in groceries every few weeks.

You heard light thumping from upstairs then saw Peter emerge from the stairway...with no pants. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the sight...he knows he’s not wearing pants, right?

From the looks of it the answer was no, he came and sat on one of the stools on the outside of the counter then folded his arms and laid on them.

“Sorry for taking so long…” he said through a yawn.

You cleared your throat a little then said, “it’s fine.” With a small voice crack. “It seems you’ve made yourself at home..”

He laughed softly and said, “I hope you don’t mind. Your house is just very relaxing to me.”

“I don’t mind at all..”

The house was silent other than the sounds of you preparing both yours and Peter’s plate. He looked up at you suspiciously.

“What is it?”

“Just...why are you being so nice to me? Like I understand that you want me to work for you but it seems like it’s…”

“It seems like what, Peter?”

He picked up the fork on the counter and twirled it in his hand.

“I don’t know… To me it looks like you want me to do more than just work for you…” he said, getting quieter and quieter, sinking down farther into his seat as he went on.

Well fuck. You see, you’re not the best with emotional confrontation. Or emotional anything for that matter. You could easily put on a simple “I’m Just A Suave Kind Of Person” act but that just makes you look like a fool because this has gone far beyond just being charming.

“Well...” you cleared your throat, trying to find the right words for the moments. “You see, I’ve just bee-“

You were cut off by the very loud sound of your front door being practically thrown off its hinges by no other than Markus Cane, aka one of the lower level(but not bottom tear) players from your more “private” games. He was very clearly enraged. More than likely about his recent losing streak, an unfortunate occurrence that's bringing him closer to being kicked out of the game permanently. Now he's broken into your house while you have an important guest over, which has just brought him a lot closer to death.

But, instead of letting the growing rage inside you show you spoke to the man in the calmest of tones.

“Markus Cane? What brings y-”

You were, once again, interrupted by him.

“You mother fucker!” He shouted, “You’re the reason my life has gone to shit You and your little games!”

You rolled your eyes at the disheveled man, “Is this about you losing the last few games? Because I can assure you that your...inability to play a proper game has nothing to do with me. I only run fair games, it’s your own fault that you lost.”

“Bullshit!” He pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his pants and aimed it straight at you...Sort of.

It was obvious he hadn’t slept in days, he had dark circles under his red bloodshot eyes. His hands shook and his body swayed as a clear sleep deprivation. He was delirious.

“You’re always pulling the strings in those games! Always behind the scenes telling the croupiers what to do! You set me up!”

“Trust me, I had no interest in your downfall..”

He looked at you with confusion, “‘Had’?”

“Yes Markus, had. I don’t know if you noticed but you’ve broken into my house, throw ridiculous accusations at me and now you're threatening my life, all of this done in front of my current guest of honor. At the moment I want you dead.” You said, your tone never changing.

Markus stumbled backward, the weight of what he’d done crashing down on him. He backed himself into a wall, his hands shaking so hard that he dropped the gun. It seemed as though the safety was still on so it collided with the ground without going off.

Peter, who you hadn’t been too focused on at the moment, rushed to grab it before settling back onto the stool, setting it on the table. All done while keeping his eyes on the man, who was now overcome with the realization that he was more than definitely dead.

“L-listen man, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke!” He stuttered.

You walked from around the counter, placing your hand on Peter's shoulder for a moment before moving forward towards the man.

He was frozen, mouth agape watching you.

“Now, I would normally kill a fool like you who decided to interrupt my peaceful morning, but I have a guest and that would be rude. And the clean up would take hours, hours that I don’t want to waste on idiots like you. So i’ll give you ten seconds to get as far away from here as possible..” Your voice shifted, turning to a lower, more threatening tone.

Markus stared at you for a long moment not moving until you said, “You have 5 seconds Markus..”

He was out of your house immediately, slamming the door behind him.

You turned back to Peter, who was staring at the door Markus had run through moments before.

“Peter?” You said, your tone changing from the anger laced one you used earlier to a much softer, calmer voice.

He turned to look at you, his eyes wide and bright as though you hadn’t just threatened to murder someone.

“Yes?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter next to him.

“I think it’s time for us to go.”

He nodded, hopping up from the stool.

“Okay, I’ll go grab my shoes from upstairs.”

“Mhmm, make sure you grab your pants while you're up there..”

He looked at you with confusion clear on his face, “What?”

Without looking back at him (less in a respectful way and more in a ‘I don’t want to start staring’ way) you gesture downward.

He looked down, then blush quickly took over his face.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” He shouted before running up the stairs quickly.

You went up a little after he did, heading to your own room. Quickly getting yourself ready for the day ahead of you, grabbing your tie and putting on your shoes as you exited the room.

By the time you were done and heading back down the stairs Peter was already there (with pants this time) staring down at his lap, blush still covering his face.

“Are you ready to leave?”

He nodded, more than likely too embarrassed to speak at the moment.

“Alright, lets go.” You walked over to the door with Peter right behind you, grabbing the keys from the small table next to it.

The both of you walked out, the sun was beaming down but a cool breeze evened out the temperature.

You unlocked the car doors, watching Peter slide into the passenger side quickly. You got into the driver's seat and started the car. You drove in silence for 20 minutes, every so often Peter would look over at you like he wanted to say something but would always go back to fumbling with his hands in his lap.

You decided to interrupt his anxious cycle, besides you were almost at your place of business and you wouldn’t be able to talk to him until after he was done with whatever work he has to do today or if he was suddenly brave enough to walk all the way up to your office on his own, which you doubted he would.

“Is there something you want to say, Peter?”

He stumbled and tripped over his words nervously, creating an illegible sequence of sounds.

“I can’t understand you, Peter, you need to relax..”

He stopped, taking a long breath before speaking again.

“If I wasn’t there, would you have killed that man?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t want to talk about it but he felt like he had to know. Did he really change your decision that much? So much that you went from Yes Murder to No Murder in a matter of seconds.

“Probably. I don’t usually take any kind of disrespect from anyone, ever… But, you were there and I didn’t want to subject you to that, especially this early in the morning.”

There was a long silence after that.

Peter didn’t know how to respond and you had nothing more to say on the subject.

As you drew closer and closer to the large building both of you worked at Peter felt as though he should say something, you offered him a job, taken care of him while he slept and cooked him breakfast so he figured some sort of thanks was necessary. (You also didn’t murder a guy because of him but what ever.) By the time he figured out what he wanted to say to you, you’d already arrived at your destination but that didn’t stop him.

“I-I…” He started, but all the things he planned to say died on his tongue when you looked over at him.

His internal monologue turned to one word in that moment. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He gulped, feeling a knot coil in his chest and in a very sudden moment his mind was on fire. Not a single coherent thought ran through his head and he felt his throat close up. So he did what he always did in moments of anxiety, he left. He opened the car door and ran into the building, not really realizing that you had to go in there too. But at that moment it didn’t matter, he had to get away. He had to get away from you, being in that car with you was throwing him into a weird anxious panic. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know why. But once he was away from you it got better.

You were less confused than Peter was, you’d watched him long enough to know that speaking was a problem for him. Especially in situations where he felt he needed to speak but he still felt rude and interruptive if he did. But then he was flooded with the many thoughts of how it could go wrong or how the other person, the other person being you this time, would feel, which would panic him and cause him to leave as fast as possible.

You understood, he was having a hard time speaking, he panicked, he left.

It was a bit rude of him to leave your door open but you could excuse it just this once.

You got out of your car, locking the doors then pocketing the keys. Slamming your door shut before walking around to the other side and closing the door that Peter had left open.

As you walked inside and up the stairs you could feel multiple eyes watching you. Before you disappeared up the stairs completely you looked down at the many low level idiots below, and then you spotted Peter. His cheeks were a dark pink and his eyes were teary, he stared down at his feet, tapping the left with the right every few seconds. He looked so upset, not quite sad or angry just…upset.

Seeing him like that hurt. It hurt a lot.

You made him feel that way, not intentionally, no. You would never, Still, he was feeling that way because of you.

You wanted to help him, to comfort him and tell him that everything was okay but you know that you had piles of work you couldn’t get behind on. They were important and then needed to be done. That had to be done, it wasn’t opsional.

And then you remembered something that made you want to grin like a cat.

This is your business. This was your building. These were your workers.

You were in control of everything that happened here, you chose what was important.

And what was important to you right now was that boy downstairs that was looking like a kicked puppy.

So you walked back down the stairs, cut through the large group of associates that flooded the lowest floor and got to Peter.

You gently grabbed his hand, holding it close to your chest and rubbing his palm slowly with your thumb. He didn’t meet your eyes only staring at your hand clasping his.

“Peter?”

He didn’t respond but you could tell he was listening.

“Would you like to go home?” You asked in a low voice.

He quickly shook his head no.

“Okay, okay...where do you want to go? I’m not letting you stay down here, not with how you are right now.?”

He looked up at you for a moment before slowly pointing to the ceiling with his free hand. It took you a moment to figure out what he meant.

“My office?”

He nodded and squeezed your hand tightly.

“Alright, lets go..”

In seconds you were pulling the shaking boy behind you up multiple flights of stairs. In the time it took you to get to your office you’d become winded, while Peter on the other hand looked almost completely fine. His chest rising and falling a bit faster than normal but other than that there was no indication that you’d dragged him up a shit ton of stairs.

Once you caught your breath you gently guided Peter to the chair he’d sat in the previous night. You leaned back against the front of your desk, your hands on either side of you, keeping you balanced.

“So… Are you feeling any better?”

He didn’t respond for a long while, and for a moment you thought he wasn’t going to.

“A little...I-” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to regain control of his thoughts, “I thought getting out of the car would help but just...being in there with all those people, I-it only made it worse. For a second I felt like I couldn’t breath, it was sudden an-and unexpected.”

You opened your mouth to say something but stopped yourself.

“Honestly I don’t understand why I was suddenly so nerve wrecked back in the car. I’d been fine the entire ride but at the end I just...wasn’t.” He looked up at you quickly. “I’m not always like this, I swear! I just…”

“You’re having a rough morning, I get it. It happens.”

“I-I know, I guess I should have at least tried to handle it a bit more professionally,” he muttered.

You laughed a little, pushing yourself off of the desk and leaning closer to Peter.

“I’ve seen you in your underpants, it doesn’t get more unprofessional than that..”

His face immediately flushed red, stammering he refused to meet your eyes, “Sorry about that…”

“Don’t worry about it, you were tired, it’s an easy mistake to make..”

“Yeah, at home. Not at the house of a man you don’t even know the name of.”

This made you freeze, had you really not told him your name?

You felt you face heat up, visible or not you brought your hand up to your face, shielding yourself from your own embarrassment.

“O-oh crap..” you muttered to yourself.

You cleared your throat, straightening yourself out in a moment.

“You’ll have to forgive me Peter, I hadn’t realized that I never told you..”

He looked up at you with a soft smile and said, “I-It’s fine, honestly. It was a simple mistake.”

“Well then, let me fix my mistake. I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you..”

[that-0ne-simp]

The night left ( Kuroo Tetsurō x Reader)

Heyyyy! Quick note y/n is a real person in this real world! And I suggest you listen to " idk you yet by Alexander 23" on loop 🔁 for this story :) thank you!

                                                                         6:00pm

You were walking home alone after a bad day from school. This happens a lot that it became your routine. No matter how hard you try for some reason you can never have a normal, positive, happy day. Sometimes you wish you could just disappear or maybe go back to the time you were a kid. Imagine how fun it would be living your life with pure happy imagination

.As a kid, you always had a wild imagination. As you grow older the harder life gets your wonderful imagination slowly fades into a pool of anxiety, self consciousnesses, and sad reality. You used to have this big no I mean HUGE crush on Kuroo Tetsuro. You loved the idea of having him by your side comforting you and loving you. Somehow the thought of that makes you feel less... lonely.

That was in the past. Now you live in an apartment on your own starting your 1st year in college. It is heartbreaking to realize how much you've changed not only physically but also mentally. You realized in the real world no one would do that to you. No one will hug you and tell you everything will be alright, no one will ask you how your day went, NO ONE will ever be there to listen to you.You eventually end up in front of your apartment door. You were about to unlock it when you heard a series of footsteps as if someone was walking around. Cautiously you slowly open the door and that's when you saw someone you never knew alive nor existed.

"Nice to see you Chibi-chan!" He said with a goofy smile on his face. You stood there in pure shock "What the hell?! Is this a joke? Are you a cosplayer? You know what?! I don't care get out. NOW" you said utterly confused. "NO NO NO no I'm not! Please believe me y/n" he pleaded. " what the hell bro your creepy how the fuck do you know my name? Did f/n set me up? Did she hire you? You better get out now or I'm calling the cops!" " NO! y/n I'm Kuroo Tetsuro! You see! come on, please... trust me"

 you knew you shouldn't trust him. You knew you shouldn't believe him but, there's something that's telling you that he's telling the truth. Of course, that is impossible but it was sincere the look in his eyes. What the hell is happening? Have you finally gone crazy from all the bullshit the universe has put you through? Despite this crazy shit happening you managed to stay calm. Honestly, the word has put you through so much shit that you cannot find the care anymore. 

You sighed " so you're Kuroo Tetsuro, as in the captain of Nekoma which happens to be from an anime" "yup" he answered shortly. "That's the dumbest thing I-" you couldn't continue cause deep down you know you believe him. I mean who wouldn't? He has the same voice, hair, height and he looks exactly like Kuroo and not to mention his aura and personality, It's like the exact copy. You look at him as he smirks and raises his eyebrow as if he was telling you 'see? I'm right'.

 You roll your eyes at him"fine if you are Kuroo then what are you doing here and how are you even here?" "Well the second question's complicated but I can answer the first one. I'm here because..." "because?" "I wanted to see you" when he said that you were taken back and slightly flattered at the thought that someone wants to see you. " and why did you want to see me?" You asked hoping to make more sense of the situation. 

You've got to admit you were kinda anxious for his answer but what he said completely confused you."Because I missed you" when he said that you suddenly had the urge to say it back. The truth is you did miss him a lot but you wouldn't admit it. "ok then.." you replied as you take deep breathes in hopes to calm yourself down.You know you might regret this, you know this is dumb as fuck but "so do you want to stay?" The moment you said that his eyes lit up like a child as if he was waiting for this his whole life. He softly replied with a genuine gentle smile on his face. " I would love that love" For some reason him calling you love gave you a nostalgic feeling. It made you feel safe like you could be yourself with him. 

"What's with the new nickname? What happened to chibi-chan?" You asked as you head to the kitchen. It took him a while to respond. "..don't you remember? We used to call each other that" you couldn't see him but you had a feeling that he wore a sad smile on his face as he recalled the memories of you together. For you on the other hand don't remember any of that happening... when it hits you. You remember reading a fanfic book of you and Kuroo being together and throughout the book, you called each other love. At that moment all your doubts vanished. You completely believe him. He is your Kuroo. You were confused but you weren't scared. You take the snacks and walk to him on the couch as you compose yourself.

 "Well then, it's really nice to see you Kuroo" you said with a smile on your face as you sat down next to him. After an hour or less of watching tv with him, he asks you "hey love?" "hmm?" "Can we do face masks?" You were taken back by his sudden request but you're not complaining. "sure...but why tho? I didn't think you're kind of guy who enjoys face masks" you asked as you look up at him. He looks at you mischievously "you told me you wanted to do face masks with me and besides I always wanted to try the peel-off ones" 

The smile he wore can fool others but not you though. You had a feeling that it's not the entire truth."Kuroo, what do you really want?" Short silence took over once again until "I want to spend this night with you doing the things we've wanted to do" now that was the truth. He never wanted anything more than to spend time with you. "Fine" you said slightly laughing at how cute he's being. After a few hours of doing random stuff like curling your hair with straws, doing random dance videos, baking, and dancing.

It was now 12:20 am and both of you decided to go for a walk. "Thank you" he mumbles "hmm?" "I said Thank you" "for what?" You asked " For spending the night with me" he said while smiling but for some reason there it is again the tint of sadness in his tone. You stop walking and look at him with a teasing smile on your face. "huh? You've been acting all weird all night are you sure you're Kuroo? Cause the real Kuroo I know is cocky, sarcastic, and is a science nerd even though he's a complete dick" you teased trying to lighten up the mood.

 "Hey! who are you calling dick chibi-chan! For someone who is so clearly lacking docosahexaenoic acid you sure are great with your words SHRIMP" He says with a smirk. After that, you guys walked for an hour or two as you talk about dumb shit. When you guys get home it was already 2:57 am. Both of you decided to cuddle in bed. " I wish we could stay like this forever" you say with his arms wrapped around you comfortably as you slowly drift off to sleep.

5:00 am

You woke up to Kuroo looking at you lovingly as he creases your cheek while humming a beautiful melody. You listened to him more and you realized It was the song you always imagine him singing to you. "Good morning Kuroo" you greeted with a smile. "Good morning Love" He said as he gently kisses your forehead. "sleep some more love" "but Kuroo I'm not-" " Please y/n" He pleaded, his voice somewhat shaking as he pushed your head to his chest. You didn't notice the tears threatening to slip through his eyes. "Hey, Kuroo?" "hmm?" "all we did tonight was everything I wanted to do. But, What about you?" You asked trying to look up at him to see his face but you couldn't, he was holding you so tight as if he would lose you. "didn't I tell you to sleep already?" He asked as he let out a small chuckle. "Fineee" you said pouting. After a few seconds of silence "good night Kuroo" you said as sleep takes over you.

5:30 am

"Y/N... Love" You woke up to Kuroo saying your name shaking you lightly. "hmmm?" you answer still half asleep and you rub your eye. "good morning love" "good morning, why'd you wake me up?" You asked looking at him eyes half-open. "Guess what chibi-chan" "hmm?" "I love you" That simple three-letter word woke you wide awake as you feel your face heating up. "T-Tetsuro w-" "and I want you to have sweet dreams of me" and that's when you noticed the tears streaming down his face. "h-hey are you o-" You panicked, you don't like seeing him like this nor do you like the feelings his words are giving you. You can't bear the fact that he's talking to you as if he was saying goodbye. Tears threaten to fall from the sudden terrifying thought of him leaving. "I love you so fucking much" He cried once more with hurt visible on his beautiful face. "h-hey! why do I feel like you're saying goodbye!" at this point you were also crying, you weren't ready. You didn't want to risk it, you wouldn't be able to handle it if he were to leave. "I will never get tired, I will never say no for more time with you" The tears kept ongoing and all you could respond with is a little whimper. "Promise me you'll be the cute and happy chibi-chan for me forever. Cause if you do I will be the happiest man alive" "Tetsu- please don't leave me, I wouldn't be able to handle it. Tetsu please, you can't leave me, I love you, you're everything I've ever wanted. All I need is you so please." You cry desperately holding on to him scared to let go. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner... Tell me, love, how can you miss someone you've never met? .....I Love you so much chibi-chan" He leaned in, lips a few centimeters from yours and before it even touched. It happened all so fast. In just one blink of an eye, he's gone with a beautifully decorated envelope stood in his place.

Dear Y/n,

I'm sorry... I'm sorry I didn't complete the things you wanted to do with me. I couldn't do the last one. I didn't have the courage to say it to you out loud so I'm sorry if this is not what you expected but I do want to say it to you so here it goes. Y/N L/N is your name but you were Y/N Kuroo from where I came from. You might have now noticed that all my memories of us together came from your imagination or from stories you read. The memories might not be true but y/n I love you so much and that's something you cannot deny. I've been with you ever since you knew about me and I didn't have the guts to leave even though you already left me. I can't blame you though I know you're getting older and I know that as times pass by you will eventually forget about me. You asked me what I really wanted. Well, I wanted to start a family with you, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But more than anything I wanted to be with you even if it was just for a night. Love, you are the most adorable, beautiful, kind-hearted, caring, lovable girl that I have ever met. I love you so damn much chibi-chan. My chibi-chan, I missed you.-Love Kuroo

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

Kuroo Tetsuro Bucket list:

Spend a night with her✔

Finish her bucket list ✔

Kiss her

If you cringe while reading this because of all the grammar mistakes sorry bubs but I’m too lazy to fix it ;P

[appalachianwiine]

Swim - Chapter 8 - Only Twenty Minutes to Sleep

Only 20 minutes to sleep

But you dream of some epiphany

Just one single glimpse of relief

To make some sense of what you've seen

“Epiphany” by Taylor Swift

“It hurts daddy.” Lydia whimpers, snuggling closer to his chest. It’s four in the morning and he’s been here most of the night. Lydia laid on top of him, crying and sleeping and complaining. She’d thrown up most of her meager dinner and had refused all attempts to get her to eat anything else. Even the offer of waffles had been refused, all she wanted was to be held.

“I know kiddo.” Daryl whispers, kissing her sweaty hair. She’s got a strange smell to her now, one that makes Daryl think of a hot bedroom in the back of a trailer in northern Georgia and a hacking cough that wouldn’t go away. One that means she’s sick. 

“I want to go home now.” Lydia whimpers, she’s clung to him like a monkey, she’s got to be more exhausted then he is, but she hasn’t slept much, every time she drifts off they come in to do vitals and she starts crying again. He reaches up to rub his eyes, god he wants to go home. Have a hot shower, his own bed, some real sleep. But they can’t. 

Instead he presses another kiss to her hair and says; “want something’ t’ drink?” 

“No.” She mutters. “I might throw it up.” 

“Okay.” He whispers. “Want a story?” 

“No.” 

“A song?”

“I guess…” 

“Down in the willow garden,” he beings quietly. “Where me and my love did meet.” He feels her small hand go to his elbow and start rubbing it in circles. “There we lay a’ courtin’ my true love fell asleep. I had a bottle of the burglars wine but that my love did not know…” 

It was a macabre song really, but he hadn’t really thought of that when he started singing it to her years ago. He just remembered it from his own childhood. The heavy smell of red wine on his momma’s breath as she knelt next to his bed singing the same thing. Her stroking a few dark locks from his face as he did to Lydia now. . 

“There I murdered that poor lil�� girl down on the banks below.” He supposed it should’ve been kind of obvious, but it was this or Merle Haggard - who wasn’t known for his lovely lullabies to little girls. 

From on his chest he hears her tiny voice join in “I stabbed her with my dagger, which was a bloody knife. I throwed her into the river which was a terrible sight.” 

It was even creepier coming from her. Though, if he was honest most songs were. She had that quality about her, even on the best of days, when she would sing her eyes would glaze over, and she took on an almost hypnotized look. Even ‘Row row row your boat’ was a little unnerving when she sang it. 

“My daddy always told me.” He continued, rocking gently from side to side “That money would set me free. If I would murder that poor little girl who’s name was Rose Connolly.” 

His mothers face drifts before him, a little blurry from time, but as young and beautiful as he remembered. Dark curls framing blue eyes, the ghost of a bruise across one cheek. He hummed a little and rubbed her back before starting the last verse. 

“Now he sits by his cabin door, wiping his tear stained eyes, a thinkin’ about his own dear son, upon the scaffold high. My race is run beneath the sun an-“ 

Lydia pushes back suddenly, making him start and he has just enough time to push her hair back before she starts heaving. 

Shit. 

He doesn’t have time to get her to the bathroom, bile and spit she’s able to throw up lands on his chest and the sheets surrounding them. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Lydia sobs, coughing and sputtering tears pouring from her eyes, a little vomit dribbling down her chin. 

“It’s okay.” He whispers, leaning over to push the nurses call button. “It’s okay, I can change.” 

“You ain’ mad?” She sobs. 

“‘course I ain’t.” He whispers, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe the vomit from her chin and reaching out to wipe her tears. “Yer sick baby girl it ain’ yer fault.” 

The night nurse comes in and flicks on the light, the bright light makes him blink and squint. Fuckin’ fluorescents. 

“Everything okay?” The nurse asked. 

“Nah, I think - we probably need a sheet change.” He muttered, looking around. Most of it was on him, but the sheets and. Bedding had a few dribbles too. 

“Oh sweetie, you get sick?” The nurse asks. 

“Y-yeah.” Lydia nods. “I need new pajamas.” 

“Okay, how about daddy gets you sorted and I’ll change the sheets.” The nurse says.

“Kay.” Lydia sniffles. 

“C’mere kiddo.” Daryl says, sliding out of the bed and picking her up. She wrapped her arms around her neck and wrinkled her nose. 

“You got sick on you.” She mutters. 

“Yeah, looks like I’ll need t’ change too.” He says, carrying her into the bathroom. “You wait here, I’ll bring ya yer pajamas.” 

“Okay.” She lets him set her down on the toilet lid. Daryl shuffles out of the bathroom and over to their suitcases. He pulls out Lydia’s Aladdin night gown and a clean t-shirt and pants for himself and returns to the bathroom. 

Changing Lydia around the PICC line is a bit of an ordeal even while she’s disconnected. The long tube hangs loose and every time it moves too much she whimpers and pulls away. He’ll have to get it bound up before they got back in bed. He reaches for the hairbrush on the back of the toilet and combs through her sweaty hair, no vomit in it, which is a good (he doubts she’d tolerate a bath right now), but he braids it back just in case it happens again. 

“You wanna go on out and wait?” Daryl asks. 

“No.” She sniffles. “Carry me.” 

“Baby girl.” He sighs. “Yer clean an’ I ain’. I don’ wanna get ya dirty again.” 

“You won’t.” She protests.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I will.” 

“You’ll come lay with me after?” Lydia pouts. 

“Yeah.” Daryl nods. “I’ll lay with ya after.” 

“Okay…” Lydia sighs, shuffling out of the bathroom. 

He figures he may as well use this opportunity to grab a much needed shower. He hadn’t showered in far too long, and he peels off his sweaty clothes aware that the vomit isn’t the only reason they smell. He doesn’t wait for the water to warm up before stepping under it. Even cold it feels damn good running over him. He reaches for the hospital issue bar of soap. He lathered his hair first, feeling the grease underneath the lather. It could really use a second wash but he doesn’t want to push it with Lydia. After giving his skin a quick scrub and rinse he steps out, drying haphazardly with the towel and pulling his clean pajamas on. He puts the dirty ones in the hamper in the corner, he’ll have to find the hospital laundry later today. 

“I don’t wanna!” Lydia is protesting, clutching the end of her PICC line tightly and scowling at the nurse. 

“What’s up baby girl.” Daryl frowns, glancing at the night nurse. 

“She needs fluids.” The nurse sighs. “She’s not keeping anything down and she’s getting dehydrated.” 

“They make me pee.” Lydia scowls. 

“You need to pee.” Daryl mutters. 

“Do not.” 

“Lydia.” He sighs, he’s bone tired, he doesn’t want to fight with her over this. 

“If they give me those and I pee they give me the medicine again!” She protests. “And that tastes bad and made me feel sick!” 

“Shhh,” Daryl says, aware that she’s shouting. “Baby girl this isn’t for the medicine.” 

“They won’t give it to me again?” Lydia scowls, not bringing her volume down any. 

“They’re gonna give it to you again.” Daryl sighs, telling her otherwise won’t do any good. “But not right now. Right now they just have to get you hydrated.” 

“No medicine ever again!” Lydia snapped

“Lydia.” He can feel a headache starting behind his eyes. “You have to get the medicine again. You’re sick baby girl we - we talked about this. But right now the IV will help you feel better, I promise.” 

“I don’t want medicine.” She whimpers. 

“I know.” He says, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I wish you didn’t have to have any medicine. But you do, just not right now okay?”

“O-Okay.” Lydia mutters. 

“Can they give you the fluids?” Daryl asks. 

“You have to hold me.” Lydia says. 

“Of course I will.” He promises, sitting back up against her pillows and letting her crawl on his lap and pull the covers over both of them. “They need your arm baby girl.” Lydia grumbles but sticks her arm with the PICC line out of the blanket. 

“Thank you Lydia.” The nurse says, pulling the end of the line up to connect the fluids. “There, all connected. Feel free to press the button if you need anything.” 

“Go away.” Lydia mutters, pulling the blanket up over her head and her arm back into the cocoon.

“Thanks.” Daryl says, rubbing Lydia’s back. He can hear her sniffling underneath the blanket. “‘S okay t’ cry.” 

“You smell funny.” She mutters, poking her head out at him.

“What?” Daryl frowns. 

“You smell funny.” She mutters, sniffing at his shirt. “You don’t smell like daddy. You smell like… soap.” 

“Oh.” Daryl says. “I had t’ take a shower’s all. Forgot my soap.” 

“I don’t like it.” She mutters. “I like daddy smell.” 

“Sorry kiddo. I’ll get my soap as soon as I can.” He promises. He’d never given much thought to how he smelled before, but he supposed he had used the same soap for years. Hell he couldn’t even remember the scent off the top of his head, he usually just grabbed it off the shelf in the grocery store and went on his way. 

“Good.” Lydia mumbles. 

“Try to sleep okay kiddo?” Daryl whispers. 

“Okay.” 

Daryl must’ve fallen asleep at some point too, because the next thing he knows the day shift nurse is in their room and light is flooding in from the windows. Lydia whimpers on his chest and curls herself into a smaller ball, just the PICC line drifting out from under the blankets she’s pulled tightly around her. 

“Wha’ time is it?” He mutters, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“A little after seven.” The nurse smiled apologetically, it’s Sasha again. The shift change has already happened. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“‘S fine.” Daryl mutters, it’s not like it’s her fault anyway. “You uh - you need her vitals?” 

“Yeah.” Sasha nods. “Dr. Rhee is going to come talk to you in a bit, but I’ll get vitals out of the way first.” 

“Biopsy results?” Daryl’s awake now. Those were supposed to come in today.

“I think so.” The nurse nods. “But it could be about the next dose of chemo too. She’s due for that today at around one.” 

“Oh.” Daryl glanced down at the lump which is Lydia, she wouldn’t be thrilled about that. He pulls at the blankets. “Lyd.” 

“No.” She moans. “No pokes.” 

“No pokes.” Sasha says. I just need your temperature and your blood pressure and your oxygen levels okay?” 

“No.” Lydia mutters. 

“What hand do you want me to put the pulse oximeter on? Your left or your right?” Sasha asks, pulling the machine over. 

“Left.” Lydia mutters, offering her right hand. Daryl has to repress a smile, she’d never been good with left and right but he was pretty sure Sasha would tell her rainbows came out of her ass if it got her to cooperate.

“Left it is.” Sasha smiles. Clipping the monitor to her finger. “And how about blood pressure?” 

“Left.” Lydia mutters, exposing a little more of her right arm for Sasha to put the cuff on. 

“Alright.” Sasha says. And do you want forehead or tongue temperature?” 

“Tongue.” Lydia mutters, poking her little pale face out from underneath the blankets and opening her mouth. 

“Thank you.” Sasha smiles, poking the thermometer under her tongue and holding it there for a moment before pulling it out. “Fever free, good job kiddo.” 

“Thanks.” Lydia mutters, letting Sasha remove the pulse oximeter and the blood pressure cuff then retreating into the cocoon of blankets again. 

“You want something to eat?” Daryl asks quietly. 

“Waffle.” Lydia mumbles. “Plain.” 

“No butter or syrup.” He repeats. “Your tummy feeling better?” 

“Kind of.” She mutters. “Still feels like I’m on a tire swing.” 

“You gonna let me out of bed to go get it?” Daryl asks. 

“Fine.” She crawls off of him and curls up in the middle of the bed. “Hurry daddy.” 

“I will.” He promises, sliding into his boots and shuffling out of the room. Across the hall Henry’s door is open, the blinds are up, and the bed empty but unmade. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but he tried not to linger on it.

He gets a waffle for Lydia and a cup of black coffee for himself. He knows he should eat something but he doesn’t really have the energy or appetite to get anything down. Especially not with Lydia’s biopsy results hanging over him like this. This would mean a treatment plan, a timeline, a discharge date, a real tangible plan that could get his daughter well again. 

When Daryl returns to the room he finds Dr. Rheesitting on the end of the bed, letting Lydia hold her stethoscope to her swollen belly. 

“Daddy guess what!” Lydia says eagerly. “There’s a baby in there and I can hear him!” 

“Really?” Daryl frowns. 

“Yeah I use the listening thingy and I can hear his heart.” Lydia grins.

“Alright Lydia.” Dr. Rhee smiles. “It looks like it's time for your breakfast. How about I take that and go talk to your daddy while you eat?” 

“Okay.” Lydia frowns, handing the stethoscope back to Dr. Rhee. “He’ll be back soon?” 

“Yeah.” Dr. Rhee says. “Mr. Dixon if you’ll come with me?” 

“Oh uh, yeah sure.” Daryl nods, handing Lydia her waffles and following Dr. Rhee out of the room and down the hall. “Are we uh - going to that - that same room.” 

“Yeah.” Dr. Rhee says. “It’s a little more private.” 

“Is this about her biopsy results?” Daryl swallows, remembering what Carol had told him about that room.

“Yes.” Dr. Rhee nods. “We got them back this morning and I wanted to discuss the new treatment plan with you, we’ll be starting it today.” 

“Today.” Daryl swallows. “Isn’t she still on - on that other chemo?”

  “She is.” Dr. Rhee nods. “But we’ll be adding some new ones.” 

Ones. Plural. Daryl's stomach sinks father. 

Dr. Rhee holds the door open for him and he steps into the room, there’s a stack of papers on the table. She’s prepared this in advance. He takes a seat in the same chair he sat in the other day and takes a drink of his coffee, ignoring the burning sensation it sends down his throat. 

“So,” Dr. Rhee says, pulling some of the papers towards her and shuffling through them. “We got the results back from Lydia’s bone marrow biopsy and we were initially correct. She does have Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.” 

“Okay.” He says slowly. “Like… that’s it?” 

“No.” Dr. Rhee slides the paper over to him, the text is small, and even though she’s highlighted portions of it it sort of dances around in front of him. “Lydia has a rare mutation we don’t often see in acute leukemia. It’s called the philadelphia chromosome. Essentially what it means is that two of the genes in the Leukemia cells have switched places. It also means that Lydia’s Leukemia is very high risk and will need to be treated aggressively. We’re going to do this with three different kinds of chemotherapy and a geneblocker called Distautinab. Distautinab is a newer drug and when used in conjunction with it’s predecessor Imatinib we’ve seen cure rates go up dramatically.” 

“Dramatically what - what does that mean?” Daryl swallows. 

“Well currently we’re at about 80 percent for this particular subtype of leukemia.” Dr. Rhee says. 

“Eighty percent.” He breathes. “And this - um - this is what subtype?” 

“Ph+ ALL.” Dr. Rhee says. 

The name triggers something in the back of his brain, he’s so exhausted that it takes him a moment to come back around to it. Carol. That’s what her daughter had. Carol’s daughter was dead. 

“Um Carol -“ 

“Yes,” Dr. Rhee says. “This is the same type of leukemia that carol’s daughter Sophia had. However Distautinab was not available for use in children at the time Sophia was treated.” 

“And Lydia.” He mutters. “What am I - what does this entail?” 

“A treatment plan of about two and a half years.” Dr. Rhee says. 

“Two and a half years.” Eh breathes. 

“Yes, though a period of that will be what is called maintenance Chemotherapy. It’s about a year of active treatment all together and a year and a half of maintenance. During active treatment she’ll have periods of chemo infusions both inpatient and outpatient, but during maintenance barring complications she’ll be at home taking daily oral chemo therapies.” 

“I - okay.” He mutters. 

“Do you need a minute?” She asks. 

“Please.” He breathes. 

“Alright, I’ll give you sometime.” Dr. Rhee stands and exits the room, Daryl fumbles for his phone in his sweatpants pocket. It’s not yet eight o’clock, the school day shouldn’t have started. He finds Carol’s number in his phone and hits the call button. 

“Daryl?” She picks up almost immediately. “Is everything okay?” 

“I - Lydia’s biopsy results.” He manages. “They’re  they’re not good.” 

“Okay.” Carol’s voice is blessedly steady. “What happened?” 

“It’s um - that chromosome thing. Lydia’s got it.” He mutters, running a hand over his hair and leaning against the table. He feels like he’s going to throw up. 

“Oh.” Her voice is almost silent on the end of the line. 

God this had been stupid of him. He shouldn’t have called and told her that. Her daughter died from that. He opens his mouth to apologize. 

“School gets out at 330.” She says, unknowingly cutting off his attempt at apology. “I can leave right after and be there by 430 okay?” 

“You don’t have t’ do that.” He says. 

“I’m going to be there by 430.” She says. “You - this is a lot to process. It’s hard. Have you gotten your treatment plan yet?” 

“No.” Daryl admits. “We-we’re about to discuss that she’s got a - a folder.” 

“Okay.” Carol says. “Look, I won’t promise you everything is going to be okay, but things have changed, three years is a long time in the world of cancer. And even if they hadn’t, you’re not alone in this Daryl.” 

“Two and a half years.” He chokes out. “She’s - she’s gonna be going through this for two and a half years.” 

“Yeah.” Carol says. “And so are you. This is your fight to Daryl, and you and Lydia aren’t alone here. I have a half an hour until class starts, are you okay?” 

“I- no.” Daryl says “She had a really rough night and now, now I’m going to go in there and condemn her to more and - and I know it’s going to save her life but she doesn’t know that. She doesn’t understand that.” 

“She understands more than you think Daryl.” Carol whispers. “She’ll be okay, she’ll get through this.” 

“We don’t know that.” Daryl whispers. 

“She has a father who’s fighting like hell for her.” Carol says. “That’s gonna make her okay. Not every kid has that. I’ll be there at 430 okay? I’ll bring dinner.” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “I uh - I should go. I need t’ - i need t’ know what’s gonna happen.” 

“Okay.” Carol says. “You want me to call at lunch?” 

“No.” He says. “I - she’s due for chemo around then, she likes me t’ hold her.”

“See, you’re all she needs.” She says. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Yeah.” He hangs up the phone and rests his head in his hands. 

“Ready?” Dr. Rhee steps back into the room. 

“Not really.” He sighs. “But yeah, lets do this I guess.” 

“So we’re going to start with the induction phase. That will consist of daily oral chemotherapy and steroids and weekly chemo through her PICC line.” Dr. Rhee slides a calendar sheet in front of him. “It will look something like this, though the dates will change based on her discharge date. We’re aiming for sometime next week, we just need to give her one round of inpatient chemo, check her counts and keep her fever free for 48 hours.” 

“We could be home next week?” That didn’t feel real to him, the idea that they could be home in a week. Hadn’t she just said that Lydia’s chemo was aggressive? 

“If everything goes well.” Dr. Rhee nods, tucking some of her short hair behind her ear. “We’re going to finish this round today and on saturday and then if all goes well you could be home by Wednesday. Now you’ll come back weekly for labs and chemotherapy, and if she spikes a fever above 100.4 you have to come into the ER right away.” 

“Okay.” He nods. “And that’s - that’s it? For two years?” 

“Well, no.” Dr. Rhee says. “Because of the type of leukemia that Lydia has we need to be aggressive in our treatment. This cancer likes to hide, so we’re going to do the induction phase, then we’re going to pull back on the chemo, to give her body a break and a chance to recover and then she’ll start three rounds of very aggressive chemotherapy. She’ll be inpatient for those, expect up to 30 days.” 

“30 days.” He mutters. 

“Yes. And she’s going to be a very sick little girl. But as I said the chances of a good outcome are high with this new drug.” Dr. Rhee says. “So if you’ll sign the paperwork I can get her chemo together and we can get ahead of this thing.” 

“Yeah.” Daryl nods, reaching for the papers and pen. “Jus’ - I want her t’ be a kid again.” 

“Kids are resilient.” Dr. Rhee says. 

“Yeah.” Daryl mutters. 

Can she still be resilient? 

[vventure]

Flex for Me

Pairing: Satori Tendō x fem!reader

Genre: Angst to Fluff

Word Count: 1k

All characters are aged 20+

Warnings: Slight angst, mentions of sexy times, mentions of pregnancy

A/N: This was something that came out of Haikyuu Horny Hours (I think I have this right, I’m sorry if I bungled it) on @haikyyuwu​ ‘s blog, and Kai gave me the go-ahead to write out the scenario in the pic below. I decided to have him wear boxers instead of being completely nude lol I wanted to make this gn, but I struggled with doing so, and I apologize for that! Also, I don’t think any of these things about Satori. He’s one of my favorite characters, but as someone with self-esteem issues, I understand where he’s coming from!

Tendō glared himself down in the large mirror over the sink of the master bathroom, his reflection slightly marred by the steam clinging to the smooth surface.

Even with a distorted view, he could still see his red hair and red eyes clear as day. They stared back at him tauntingly, reminding him that his appearance was a monstrosity.

And with that thought, his mind went to you. How could someone as beautiful, kind, and warm as you find him attractive. He didn’t have the looks, and he certainly didn’t have the personality.

The fact that you’d even agreed to marry him was baffling, but what astonished him the most was your desire to have a family with him some day. 

What if your kids came out looking exactly like him? What if they got none of your normal, beautiful features? What if they were absolute teasing monsters with shit-eating grins like his? What if once they were born you resented him?

Self-doubt swirled around Tendō, latching onto the steam still lingering in the bathroom and coating his naked skin in an uncomfortable layer of wet heat.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t told you about all of his insecurities. You’d been the one to show him he was worth love, and he could never repay your patience and love. He’d even been honest about his concerns surrounding you getting pregnant, not realizing that he would offend you in the process. 

Tendō was perfect to you, both physically and emotionally and the fact that he thought you’d ever resent him for having a child that looked like their eccentric and fun-loving father made your heart clench.

“Satori?” Your muffled voice carried through the door of the bathroom, accompanied by a light rapping of your knuckles against it.

Toweling off quickly, he opened the door to a gush of cold air that pricked goosebumps all over his skin. With a deep shiver, he walked past you with a sad smile to the dresser and pulled out a pair of black boxer briefs, pulling them onto himself and turning to look into the mirror over your vanity.

Everywhere he looked he saw a monster! He willed himself not to stare his visage down again, but it was almost like a car wreck: no matter how hard he tried to look away he couldn’t.

Something shifted in the mirror, and there you were standing next to him, looking into his eyes as he took in your figure. The morning light that illuminated your frame made you look like a goddess, golden light so strong it bounced off your shining hair and nearly blinded him.

He may have hated to look at himself, but he could look at you all day.

That thought made his eyes wander back to your face, where he saw your brows furrowed and your mouth set into a line. 

“Why?”

“Why what?” He replied, one eyebrow arching into his forehead.

“Why are you beating yourself up again? I thought we talked about this.”

“It’s not that simple, [Y/n]! I can’t just--”

“Nope, I’ve heard this before, Satori,” you stopped him, walking over toward the stereo that sat in the corner of your shared bedroom. This was something that you both loved to enjoy together, and had multiple linked speakers throughout your house so you could listen to music together regardless of where you were. 

“You know how body-builders flex for audiences?” You asked as you stuck a well-used CD into the player; it was something you’d burned yourself and had all of your favorite sexy songs on it. Pony by Ginuwine immediately came on, and Satori shot you a confused look. He wasn’t in the mood for sex.

“[Y/n] I--”

“I just want to try something, we’re not doing anything sexual, just do this for me, please?”

“O-Okay,” he replied, watching you sit down in the middle of the bed while he stood at the foot of it, waiting for you to tell him what this was all about.

“Okay, jellybean, I wanna see those muscles. First pose,” you commanded, a smile spread across your face.

“I don’t know what pose you want,” he replied, his brows knitting. 

That’s when you did something that he thought would make his heart explode: you lifted your arms and flexed your biceps, fists raised into the air with a triumphant smile.

Tendō let out a snort and an eye roll, but he could never deny you when you looked that cute, so he flexed his arms like you showed him.

Immediately, you placed your pointer finger and thumb into your mouth and let out a piercing whistle while your hips swayed against the comforter along to the music.

“Second pose!” You shouted with a laugh, repositioning your arms so that one fist was pointing toward the ceiling and one was pointing toward the bed, your biceps flexed.

A weight was lifting off his chest as he mimicked your pose, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Damn! Are you single?” Came your squeal, your hands clapping together feverishly as you beamed at him, your smile lighting the room more than any morning sun could. He couldn’t tear his eyes from you, loving the way you moved your arms and body from a seated position, really feeling the music. Coming back to yourself, you caught him staring and shot him a wink.

“Ok, last pose,” you laughed out. Your fists clasped together in front of your chest and you flexed your arms and pectoral muscles as an example. There wasn’t much for you to display, but you looked so endearing while showing these poses; he wondered where you’d learned this.

The burden of his self-conscious mind was fully lifted as he performed the last pose for your giggling, clapping self, his face on fire from the sustained smile.

“I’d say you won first place,” you spoke as the song came to a close on the stereo, flipping to the next track on the disc.

“You tricky kitten, you,” he teased, leaping onto you and pushing you back against the plush bed, his lips finding yours for a deep kiss. “I love you, [Y/n].”

“I love you more, Satori.”

[pocket-clown]

Arthur learning that his S/O is pregnant may include;

// original request: Hi, I have a request. Can you do "Arthur learn that you are pregnant" (excuse me if this is NSFW idk) I like your blog by the way ;)

Not NSFW at all, thank you for the request anon!! I know jack about pregnancy so I had to Google things like symptoms and whatnot so I apologize for any inaccuracies :-))

Obvious content warning for pregnancy, symptoms of pregnancy, minor angst.

His face is unreadable, the second he hears the news. 

You’d spent the last month and a half or so battling an array of symptoms; at first, it was nothing more than noticing that your period never came when it was supposed to - something you initially shrugged off because hey, it wasn’t always regular. 

But then you started feeling tired. Not just sleepy, but as if you were perpetually fatigued, regardless of how much sleep you got. Even if you spent the day lounging around the apartment and resting in bed, it was like it took every ounce of energy and drive that you had to get yourself going at times, and you felt that you could’ve slept for hours, had it not been for the responsibilities and obligations that an adult life came with. 

It was then, about four weeks after your missed period that you woke up sometime around 1:20 in the morning with some of the worst nausea that you had ever experienced, just barely making it to the restroom in time. Arthur had been by your side the entire time, and he practically pleaded for you to go to the doctor - it was flu season, after all - but in the back of your mind, something was nagging at you, telling you that something more was going on.

So the next day, on your commute home from work you made a stop at Helm’s Pharmacy. Arthur had a prescription that was ready to be picked up and you figured that it would save him some time for you to just get it yourself, but you also grabbed a few of the best pregnancy tests that your small amount of cash could afford, praying that the pharmacist wouldn’t mention it the next time you came in with Arthur.

Once you had actually tested yourself, the double bars on each of the four tests confirming your suspicions, you felt your heart stop. 

How was Arthur going to react? You two certainly had talked about having children before, and he was receptive to the idea - he even seemed excited about it - but those late night conversations and discussions were always in the future tense, when the two of you were better off financially, and maybe even out of Gotham. 

The fact that you weren't sure how Arthur would react coupled with knowing that you two may not even be able to support a child at the time kept you from telling him for about a week, and once you finally broke the news to him you didn’t even bother trying to beat around the bush. 

“Arthur, I’m pregnant.” You’d said out of the blue while the two of you were cuddled up on the couch during one of Murray’s commercial breaks. His hand, which had been combing through your hair as you rested your head on his shoulder, stopped, and you could feel his breath hitch. When you’d looked up at him, you saw that his dark brows were furrowed ever so slightly, and it seemed like he was almost confused about what you had just said - or like he didn’t understand.

“Are… really?” He asked after a moment, his voice not above a soft whisper. It took him a second, but after a moment he was able to pry his eyes away from the television to turn and look you in your own; searching for anything to indicate if you were just joking around, or if you were actually serious.

“Remember how I started feeling really sick a bit ago? I took a few tests a few days ago, and... they were all positive.” You said, moving your hand to sweep away the tuft of hair that had fallen across his forehead. 

Arthur’s lack of response was nothing short of concerning to you, and for a moment you thought that he was upset, or even angry, with you. His green eyes were flitting all over the room, seemingly unable to focus on anything as his mind tried to fully process what you had just told him.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Arthur wasn’t mad - he wasn’t even upset. What he was, though, was frightened; though yes, the thought of having a child with you filled his heart with the kind of warm love he never in his life thought he’d get to experience, it was also one of the most freighted, daunting ones to ever cross his mind. He often wondered if he’d even make a remotely good father - something you’d always assure him that he would - but he still had his doubts; with all of his struggles - his condition, his mental illnesses, and his own lack of a father figure, to name a few - the last thing Arthur wanted was to end up a poor excuse for a father. His mind was running a million miles a second, and if it wasn’t for the soft touch of your hand brushing against his cheek, he would’ve sat in the same spot for the rest of the night as his mind forced him to go over every single worst case scenario it could possibly come up with.

“Arthur? Are you okay? I’m sorry if I upset you, I meant to tell you sooner but -”

“Upset? Sweetheart, why would I be upset with you about this…?” He asked, and you hadn’t any idea that he had been trembling until his hands came to your face, cupping your cheeks so he could pull you close enough so he could rest his forehead against your own. “Are you sure it’s me you want to have a baby with…?”

You knew that his question was rhetorical; it wasn’t uncommon for Arthur to agonize over his anxieties and fears regarding the relationship, questioning if you really were 100% completely and utterly sure that you wanted to be with him, of all people. He’d worry that he was completely imagining you and your voice and your touch, or that he’d somehow tricked you into being with him, even - but each and every anxiety was hushed with kisses from you. Though you knew that you couldn’t do or say anything to completely rid Arthur of said anxieties and worries, so ingrained within him were they, you did everything you could to be there for him whenever they came to surface and needed dealing with.

“Yes! And I mean it, Arthur - I want this - and I want it with you.” You said, and he hummed in response, his forehead still against yours as his thumbs stroked the backs of your hands as he held them in his own

“I’ll work harder - For us.” He spoke after a minute of silence, and his arms came to wrap around you, pulling you tightly against him. 

It’s then, with you in his arms, that the reality of the situation really hits Arthur and he can’t stop himself from tearing up. He was scared, and so were you; you’d both have to work extra hours (you, for as long as you could, until you were too far along), neither of you have ever had children before, and the weight of knowing that you’d soon be supporting one, as well eventually need a larger residence, the costs, the fact that you’d have another life in your hands - it was all so, so much to deal with that neither of you could stop yourselves from shedding tears. 

But you were together, and the two of you had made it through a lot together, already.

This sweet, attentive man always makes sure you’re as comfortable as possible. 

If you thought that his fretting about you in the past was over the top, get ready because now he rarely ever leaves your side. 

As the months go by and your tummy gets bigger, Arthur loves to rest his hands against it, his fingers sliding underneath the hem of your shirt so he can feel your skin. If you’re subtle about it, late at night during those nights you can’t sleep, sometimes you can catch him talking ever so gently and so sweetly to you and your unborn child, unaware that you’re awake. He goes on about how much he loves you, how you love him, how he loves the baby, how you love the baby, how soon you’ll be a family. He talks about everything he’s going to do with the two of you, what he wants to do, his hopes, his fears - all of it. Whether the soft, shaky tone of his voice is from his tender, sleep deprived state or if he’s quietly crying from the sheer, overwhelming amount of love, fear, excitement, and utter disbelief he feels you don’t know, but what you do know is that his words are genuine.

He goes with you to every single doctor’s appointment that you have; every single check up, every single exam, everything. Even if you’re not far along enough that it’s tough to get around, he still insists that you sit and rest so he can take care of chores around the apartment. He tries his hardest to improve his cooking skills, preferring that you eat as best as you can so that you’re as healthy as possible - he doesn’t want you falling ill. He keeps his smoking away from you, as well; he’ll literally leave the apartment, regardless of what time of day it is, to smoke outside so you aren’t exposed to it. He doesn’t want to put you or the baby at any sort of risk. 

You two will have to console each other very frequently. Arthur, at times, has trouble fully coming to terms with what’s going on; never in his life did he ever expect he’d have a child with someone (nor did he think he’d even have a successful relationship), and the weight of the situation tends to wear down on his already fragile mental state at times. Lots of reassurance that everything will be okay, that he is capable of being a good father, that you’ll be by his side, that there are resources that can help the two of you if you need it, and so on, will be needed. 

Regardless of whether it’s hormones, your own fears and anxieties, tears of excitement, whatever it is, he’s by your side whenever you need him to be. You’re in tears because your craving for that very specific type of donut from a market that’s halfway across Gotham is so strong? He’s putting on his shoes, fully prepared to go out and get it for you, despite it being 11 at night and pouring rain. You’re scared because you’re wondering how capable of a mother you’ll be, and if the child will even love you? Your face is cupped in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he tells you that he knows you; he sees how strong and how loving you are in your day to day life, and there’s not a single doubt in his mind regarding how wonderfully you’ll do as a mother. 

There’s absolutely no denying that it’s a tough time for the two of you, but the two of you make it work. 

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taglist;

@tahliamalfoydepp​ @tsukiakarinobara​ @smol-nari​ (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[iambuckyrogers]

You’re Not Alone

Summary: After a love confession gone wrong, Clint finds you alone on a bridge

Word Count: 1168

Chapter Warnings: oof where to start, self loathing, suicide attempt, dark thoughts, depression

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Authors Note: ok so i wrote some of this during a spiral and felt like it needed to be finished, both for myself and others who may be feeling the same. It’s my first time writing Clint, I hope that I did him justice. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

Also: Please reach out if you need help, there really are people out there willing to listen and I’ll be that person for anyone who needs it :)

*****

You’d really done it this time. There was no coming back from this. Why you had to open your big stupid mouth in the first place you didn’t understand. Everyone warned you against it, but never listened… Even when you really should have. And god, did you wish you listened this time. You peered over the edge of the bridge, into the dark abyss of the freezing Hudson below. Dark and unforgiving. You kicked off your shoes haphazardly, not caring where they ended up, you wouldn't need them any longer. You struggled with your cardigan, tossing it aimlessly over the side of the bridge and watching as it fell, tumbling and turning until it landed with a faint splash in the water below. You blinked back tears as you ran over the last 30 minutes in your head.

The buzz of the shots had started to work its way through your body, liquid courage thrumming through your veins. With a newly found courage, you snatched up your phone and texted the person you were so painfully longing for. Pouring out your heart and soul into a text that you only hoped conveyed the way you were feeling. You threw all caution to the wind and hit send without even a second thought. Your heart was pounding in your ears as the three dots flickered and disappeared as they wrote their reply.

Crush: Are you drunk?

Y/N: No, never… ok maybe a little bit. but otherwise I’d be too pussy scared to tell you how I feel

Crush: Oh… Are you joking?

Y/N: What?? no I’m serious. please just let me like you

Crush: You don’t know me, you think you do but you’ve only seen the good bits

Y/N: Then let me see it all, I want to know you better if you’d just let me. please

Crush: You really don’t, trust me. I’m quite happy with things the way they are at the moment

Y/N: Yeah ok I get it just friends. I wish I never said anything and everything would be ok

Crush: I’m glad to hear it. It’s alright, what’s done is done. That’s what alcohol does. I’m fine, I’m just sorry to have disappointed you.

How could you have read the situation so wrong? You snatched your bag up off the table and hurried out of the bar muttering about how you had work early tomorrow and needed to get home. Your head was pounding as the realisation of what you had just done began to sink in. You hailed a cab, almost getting hit by it as it screeched to a stop at your feet. You ripped open the door and slid into the back seat.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“George Washington Bridge.” You replied, sinking into the seat as the driver sped away.

Fresh tears welled behind your eyes as you hoisted yourself over the barrier. With your back to the railing and your arms hooked over the bars, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. No one would miss you anyway. Your family didn’t really care about you. You only had a handful of friends and you had no doubt that you were replaceable. What’s the point in hanging around when you just ruin everything you touch? This was just the last thing in a long line of monumental fuck ups. You felt a sense of peace as you leant forward, your arms extending as you dangled over the edge of oblivion. You opened your eyes and caught a glimpse of a man walking towards you, he seemed to slow when he saw where you were standing. Cautiously he continued to come closer, he was probably late 20’s, a well built, muscly guy dressed in dark leathery motorbike gear with his light brown hair styled carefully into a point.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asked softly, coming to a stop a couple metres, his stare laced with concern.

“Yes,” you sniffled defensively. You wanted to shout at him for what a stupid question that was to ask someone about to throw themselves off a bridge.

“Alright, mind if I join?” he asks gesturing to the gap between the two of you.

“Be my guest, it's a free country last time I checked.” Swiftly he jumped the barrier and stood by next to you, his warm body pressed against your side. Your eyes widened as you looked to him.

“What are you doing?!” you asked, to which he just shrugged his shoulders.

“The name’s Clint by the way,” he said not tearing his eyes away from the water.

“Y/N,” you whisper, teeth chattering as the cold air whipped around you, the only warmth coming from the man, Clint, who still stood beside you.

“How many flips do you recon I could do before I hit the water?” he asked, looking at you with a serious expression, “ok sorry, bad time for a joke I know, but I’m not great at conflict resolution stuff.”

“Neither,” you responded, still looking out to the water.

“So what are you good at?”

“Ruining everything,” you choked out, fresh tears prickling behind your eyes.

“Hey, don’t be like that. There’s something special about you, I can feel it. I bet you dance a mean Macarena.” You laugh weakly turning to look at him.

“My mum always said that I made the best apple pie,” you offered, smiling as you remembered all the times you used to make them for her, how she’d make a huge fuss about how good they tasted.

“See there you go. I’d love to try one,” he smiled back, jumping up so he was sitting on the railing, “whaddya say we get out of here?”

“No,” you snapped, looking back out to the churning water below, “it’s not enough, I’m not enough.”

“You know, sweetheart, you’re not alone.” You looked up at him, blinking away tears, “You think you’re the only one who thinks they’re not enough?” He returned to his spot next to you on the outside of the railing, “you’re not alone in this fight, there are people out there who can help, who want to help. Please, let’s get off this bridge and take about it, somewhere preferably warm and with coffee. I want to help you, I’m here, all you’ve got to go is take my hand.” You looked between his hand and the water a couple of times. Looking into his eyes you saw such conviction behind them, you really believed that he could fix you.

“O-okay,” you whispered, gingerly removing your hand from the railing and taking his. In one swift movement, he jumped back over the barrier, pulling you with him and catching you in his arms, putting you down gently.

“Wow, you’re stronger than you look,” you laughed.

“Not as strong as you,” he said, pulling you into his side as he steered you off the bridge.

[kalluun-patangaroa]

Suede brush up

The Guardian, 21 October 2010

by Jude Rogers

(This is the actual article The Ministry Of Sound photo shoot was done for)

Drugs, ME and despair sent the poor urchins of Britpop their separate ways in 2003. Now Suede have come roaring back to life.

'Much less interested in the persona of Brett Anderson' ... Suede's frontman at the Ministry of Sound, London. Photograph: Christian Sinibaldi for the Guardian 

This year, in the first flush of spring, a band that time forgot played the gig of their lives. "It was so special, it was impossible to leave it behind, wasn't it? We had to keep picking at it, didn't we? It was like a scab." The once long-fringed frontman who led the band that launched Britpop – albeit against his will, Brett Anderson reminds us – sits in a hotel room on a darkening weekday evening, remarkably untouched by both time and excess, recalling Suede's performance at the Royal Albert Hall in March. Next to him, drummer Simon Gilbert and keyboardist Neil Codling are similarly Peter Pan-like; bassist Mat Osman is in New York; while Richard Oakes, the young pup who replaced guitarist Bernard Butler after writing to the band's fanclub, is in the gents. 

"He's hiding," says Anderson. "He's terrified. Be gentle with him."

In 2010, something remarkable has happened to Suede. Nearly 18 years after their debut album became the fastest-selling in British history, and seven years after they split not with a bang but with a whimper, they are, incredibly, the talk of the town. Next month, they release a carefully curated Best Of – Osman says on the phone, later, that Anderson has spent months labouring over it, making his own CDs to discover the best running order. In December, they play the O2, their biggest-ever non-festival show. This is all thanks to a gig they played for Teenage Cancer Trust back in March, preceded by two "practice runs" at London's 100 Club and the Manchester Ritz. At the Royal Albert Hall, they were a revelation: five men in their 30s and 40s playing at full throttle, as if the world was going to cave in once the curtains came down. When they played Metal Mickey, they received a standing ovation that went on for five minutes. Oakes finally enters the room as we discuss it, and smiles shyly when he realises what we are talking about. "I thought someone had walked on stage, or something. It was genuinely unexpected."

"That's the one moment that I'd relive for the rest of eternity," adds Anderson. "And I did actually say on the night – here's your bold quote if you want it – I've taken a lot of drugs in my life and nothing compares to it."

Anderson at Royal Albert Hall, London, in March 2010. Photograph: Yui Mok/PA 

Everyone laughs. Suede know who the press expect Anderson to be: the easy-to-parody commuter-belt wordsmith, still in love with suburbs and skylines, nicotine and gasoline. The old dog still deploys flamboyant one-liners – when Gilbert's lost phone turns up in his pocket, for example, he says, "Oh, come on, Simon, this isn't Arthur C Clarke's Mysterious World" – but in 2010, Anderson is much more self-aware. He is, he says, "much less interested in the persona of Brett Anderson", and even has a sense of humour about having a parodist on Twitter, something you couldn't have imagined 15 years ago.

Since Suede broke up in 2003, all the members' lives have changed hugely. As well as making three solo albums and reuniting briefly with Butler as the Tears, Anderson has married and gained a stepson "who likes being read bedtime stories about pirates", and lost a father, who died in 2005. Gilbert moved to Bangkok as soon as the band split, and now drums for two bands called Futon and Goo ("that's G-O-O"); Codling became "a keyboardist for hire" for Natalie Imbruglia, among others; Osman became an editor of the online zine le cool; while Oakes has been working quietly on a new band, Artmagic, though he had not been on stage since Suede played their last note seven years ago.

But then Teenage Cancer Trust came calling. At first, Anderson didn't know whether reforming would be wise. "There were two conflicting voices," he says. "One saying I'd love to play those songs again, I'm really proud of them. Another saying I should leave well alone." He spoke to Osman and Codling, called Gilbert on Skype, then spoke to Oakes – the least convinced party. Oakes stands out from his bandmates in other ways today: he wears a beige jacket and scruffy jeans while the others are stylish in black; he has a receding hairline; and he still looks acutely aware that he filled Butler's shoes, despite co-writing some of Suede's biggest hits. "I was thinking, 'Oh God, can I do it, revisiting the past?' All these emotions, I didn't think I could cope." Osman will also admit late that he had his doubts: "Men in their 40s performing teenage songs … it could have easily gone horribly wrong."

Anderson confirms there were lots of difficult conversations. "But if it had been the wrong thing for one of us, it would have been the wrong thing for all of us. We kept persevering because we knew there was still something there."

To decide once and for all whether a reunion would work, this version of Suede (Oakes joined in 1994, Codling in 1996), went to a tiny rehearsal room near Anderson's house. It was the first time they had played together for 10 years (Codling left the band in 2000 because he was suffering from ME). It was crucial there were no managers or roadies present, explains Anderson, so the five musicians could just drink tea and chat, and then hook up their instruments. They played Filmstar first, and it sounded amazing, he says. "We also noticed a purity in those songs, because we'd had distance from them," adds Codling. "It also helped everyone remember," adds Anderson, "why they were written in the first place."

As the Albert Hall show approached, Osman remembers them discussing how important it was that they present the music free of frills: "It had to be like five boys playing the Southampton Joiners Arms. To hide behind anything would have been cheating. We had to do the opposite."

Anderson felt they had a point to prove, too. "I don't think there's ever been a point in Suede's career when we haven't. We've always had our doubters. We've always polarised opinion." He stops, then smiles. "Although there's part of me that quite likes that, you know. I never wanted to be in someone's fifth-favourite band."

Suede were born to be divisive: from early on, they were criticised for being the beneficiaries of media hype, even though they had spent years in various bands playing "in front of three people". Later on, the fact that Anderson had been involved with Justine Frischmann, who became the frontwoman of Elastica and dated Blur's Damon Albarn, helped transform Britpop into a class-fuelled soap opera, with Blur cast as foppish class tourists, Suede as poor urchins looking at the stars and Frischmann a black-clad princess tearing them apart. Anderson doesn't think about the other Britpop bands now, he says, though he is still close friends with Frischmann, who now lives in LA; they had dinner together with their spouses last year, and he wishes he saw her more often.

By 1994, as Oasis became more popular, it became clear that Suede didn't fit into Britpop any more, even though it was still a year before the scene's commercial apogee. Butler's departure also gave the critics extra fuel for the fire. "They realised that a part of our armour was missing," recalls Anderson. "That was the first time I realised that people often run in packs, and when they smell blood, they attack."

Suede didn't want to run with a herd, though – and their second album, Dog Man Star, was deliberately anti-Britpop for that reason. "We didn't want to wave union jack flags. And I didn't want to talk about my life any more, or include any references about living in London on the dole. It felt weird how they became Britpop references, really, and how quickly they got turned into beery cartoons."

Anderson was also missing the departed Butler. "He's an amazing musician, so I missed him in that sense. And the two first Suede albums were obviously very special." Butler has played a big role in putting together the Best Of, Anderson says. "It was really nice: the two of us sitting together listening to Suede songs in the studio for the first time for nearly 20 years. A really lovely trip down memory lane." Anderson won't go into detail about their friendship, but thinks they made a good album together as the Tears, although they were naive not to realise how much the idea of their reconciliation being a de facto Suede reunion would overshadow it. Butler, though, will have no part of this reformation.

Instead, Suede's current lineup is centred around their most commercially successful spell, one that gets overlooked because of the excitement of their early breakthrough. 1996's Coming Up produced five top 10 singles, and also made Suede famous in Europe and Asia. They all remember that time fondly, Gilbert says: "It was make or break, but also really exciting. We were all waking up each morning not feeling any pressure." Things only went awry with 1999's Head Music. Codling was getting ill, and having to send ideas in by email; Anderson "was off my head on buckets of drugs"; Oakes, whose guitar parts were getting replaced by electronics, was "switching off", he says. "Which I really regret."

By 2002's A New Morning, the band had grown apart, and Anderson was trying to tear Suede's sound into pieces – partly, he now realises, because he didn't want there to be a band any more. "I think that we shouldn't have made that record, quite honestly." He persevered out of sheer bloody-mindedness – wanting to prove to the doubters, once again, that Suede hadn't been a flash in the pan. Instead, the band broke up amicably with a run of full-album gigs at London's ICA, which they nonetheless remember as quiet final flourishes. "We didn't go out the way we had planned," Osman says. "We should've gone out in a blaze of fists in Bangladesh, or something."

Quietness seems inimical to Suede: Anderson misses the danger and fierceness his band used to thrive on. "I do find it weird that the last 10 years hasn't thrown up a new definitive genre. It seems that music is here to placate now, rather than provoke. Maybe a sense of apathy has crept in, or people's lives are too comfortable. No one wants to inspire extremity, as we used to do."

Perhaps sticking around beyond the winter tour would help make this happen, I suggest. The room falls silent as the notion floats around. "At the moment … we don't know," Anderson says finally, making it clear he is the ringmaster. "I think we'd have to be convinced that it would be the right thing to do. You know, has the moment passed, or should we pick at the scab again?"

Next year, after all, he releases another solo record, a big rock-inspired album – although its energy has, he admits, been fuelled by Suede's reunion. And everyone agrees that something has changed in all of them in the wake of the reunion. "The fact it happened 20 years after the band formed – isn't that wonderful? Who's to say it couldn't happen again in the future?" Anderson raises his hands, and his cheekbones gleam in the evening light as it falls through the window. Everyone smiles, and understands. This isn't yesterday's man.

The Best of Suede is released on Ministry of Sound on 1 November.

[ninja-scenarios]

Orochimaru reacting to a pregnant S/O

this was requested by @otogakure-no-sato

I REALLY went overboard with this. Also, I put this in a modern setting. I need more Oro requests. 

It had been one of those nights. Orochimaru´d said he would come home early, so the dinner had been ready and you had been sitting at the table, waiting. But as the hours went by, the chances of him being early diminished to nearly zero. It was pointless calling him, because he was either still at work – the lab was a phone-free zone – or driving. In either cases, you weren´t mad at him. Being the head of his team brought great responsibilities and he had worked hard to be where he was now. He always worked hard.

After a while you had settled onto the couch, and turned on the TV. You turned on your favourite show, it was called “Hello Counselor” and contrary to its name, was actually a Korean comedy show. You always had to turn on the subtitles, otherwise you wouldn´t understand a thing. But today it was hard to focus on anything as it was getting overshadowed by the words you carefully spun since morning. They left you excited, happy but also scared. Before you knew it, you had picked up on your old habit and bit your nails.

The sounds of distant steps and jingling keys made a feeling of home settle in your stomach. Immediately you got up and rushed to the door, falling into the arms of your partner once he had stepped into the house.

He welcomed you with a low, warm chuckle that you felt vibrating in his chest while he pulled you close to him and kissed your hair. This was by far always the best moment of the day.

“I kept you waiting again, my love…” Orochimaru said after a few moments, his hands stroking over your back and holding you tight. You didn´t reply, instead lifting your head to look at him. Since the day you´d met him, you hadn´t stopped looking at him with this admiring gaze in your eyes.

Orochimaru leaned down and placed a longing kiss onto your lips. After you pulled apart, he got the chance to take of his coat and lean his leather shoulder bag against the wall. A glance at the TV. Your favourite show was on, that meant he had really kept you waiting. A look at the watch.

You went into the kitchen while he took off his shoes. “I´ll warm up the food for you.”

“It´s already late, my dear, let me do it.” It was his way of showing guilt. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him before you could reach the cooker. You giggled and he kept you tight, using his other hand to stroke the hair away from your neck to place a loving kiss onto your skin.

“I want you to get a good amount of sleep. I´m the one who was late after all.” Indeed, while he needed only 4 hours of sleep (how?), you on the other side needed a minimum of seven. You turned around in his arms and faced him, smiling up at your pale-skinned boyfriend. He took your face into his hands and leaned down again to kiss you. You came to nuzzle back against his chest while he rested his chin on your head.

“That stupid trainee again… thinks he´s so smart and ends up almost destroying the whole quantity of samples…” He muttered into your hair

You giggled against his chest. “Don´t be too hard on him, Oro. He probably feels intimidated.”

It was true, almost the whole team was scared of your boyfriend. The funny thing was, you shared a workplace. While he had just been promoted, you had started working as a packaging designer. On your first day, a co-worker had given you a tour to make you familiar with the company. He had also shown you the lab, where you had inevitably bumped into your current partner. It had started with a lazy side-glance, a lot of blushing and wide smiling on your part, and Orochimaru eyeing you up curiously but a lot less conspicuously. Even two days afterwards your knees had still gotten weak.

Yet it had taken a month till you started dating. Two years after the start of your relationship, you had moved in with him into the house he had inherited from his parents. His mother had died 10 years ago and his father lived in an alms-house. The two of you visited him every now and then. Even though you worked at the same place, your relationship hadn´t stirred up a controversy since you both worked in different divisions. Fortunately, the company had given you a permanent job, allowing you to leave your designer´s company where the competition had always been really high and stressful. You could never forget Orochimaru´s proud look. After you had designed the packages, the company had asked you to also give them a new logo and freshen up their website (even though that wasn´t what you had studied, but it wasn´t hard for you). Currently, you were working on packages for their subsidiary. Also, rumour had it that the head of the company planned on giving Orochimaru the lead after his retirement.

“Go to bed, love. I´ll join you very soon.”

It really was late. With a sigh you nodded and let him kiss you goodnight. While he heated up dinner you slipped into your pyjamas and brushed your teeth. As you slipped under the covers you suddenly remembered something. The whole day you had wanted to tell him something… Now it was too late. You could already feel yourself dozing off when you head hit the pillow and only partly felt Orochimaru slipping into bed on the other side and wrapping his arm around you. Tomorrow, then.

 When the alarm rang, it was the first thought that came to your sleepy mind. Orochimaru reached over your body to turn it off and kiss your hair. He always woke up before you and let you snooze for 20 minutes longer to slowly wake up. But not today. You rubbed your eyes and sat up with a groan. A chuckle resounded from next to you.

“The last time I saw you getting up at this hour was when you wanted to watch the, what was it called, “The last airbender marathon”? “

You giggled and blindly punched into his direction, hitting his shoulder. He chuckled again and ruffled your hair. “Feeling naughty, are we?” His words made a shiver run down your spine and you internally cursed because it wasn´t Sunday and you couldn´t spend the whole day in bed with him.

You tried to get up but slumped right back down. “Oro…can you carry me?” You croaked out, leaving your head hanging low. You were definitely not a morning person.

Orochimaru cocked his head but lifted you up, nonetheless. Engulfed into his strong arms, you wanted to go right back to sleep but your nervousness prevented it.

The both of you got ready and you sat down at the table while Orochimaru made breakfast. How could you break down the news to him? Your head was almost smoking while you bit your lip, tapping your fingers onto the glass surface. How would he react? This one question was nagging at your brain the whole time.

Finally, Orochimaru sat down and put two plates with delicious looking scrambled eggs and toast on the table. You were far too nervous to take a bite so you took a huge breath and looked at him.

“I gotta tell you something, baby…” Orochimaru looked up from his breakfast, sensing that something was off immediately because you seldom called him like that. In the meantime, your eyes widened. The nickname you just used was dangerously close to the topic you wanted to talk about.

“Er…” Just to be sure, you searched for something like a bowl in case you really had to throw up from the corner of your eye. Your hands started trembling and you looked back at Orochimaru, who had fixated all his attention on you. No backing out now. Just say it. How can that be so hard?

“I´m… pregnant.”

You bit your lip, anticipating his reaction. You had talked about kids at the start of your relationship and agreed that you should wait a minimum of three years before you started planning on getting a baby. Now, your fourth anniversary had been three months ago, but because of work, nobody had started planning anything.

Orochimaru completely stilled, eyes wandering down to your belly. It looked like he was completely emotionless but you knew him. He was overwhelmed with the situation. After a few seconds he stood up and kneed next to your chair to put a hand on your stomach.

“The test said I´m three weeks pregnant. I know since yesterday…” You felt tears rolling down from the corners of your eyes. Not because Orochimaru hadn´t reacted yet, not because you were unhappy, but simply because the situation had finally sunken in. It had seemed so unreal the whole time.

“I sensed that there was something.” Orochimaru started and then looked up at you. At the sight of your tears, his eyes widened and he quickly leaned up to wipe them away. Finally, a smile grazed his lips.

“Are you happy?” You asked carefully. His smile grew and he cradled your cheek against his hand, using his thumb to stroke over it. “I am.”

“Do you… wanna keep it?” -  “Of course.”

You let out a breath you didn´t know you were holding and smiled. Orochimaru went back to stroking your belly. There was something in his gaze and you could swear you´d just seen a thin watery layer graze his extraordinary beautiful eyes. That your body was able to produce life… amazing. You would give him a child. His admiration for you was clearly visible in his eyes. No doubt he would start treating your body like it was made of porcelain.

Suddenly your hunger kicked in and you grabbed for the fork to start eating. Orochimaru was quicker though, because he stood up and snatched the plate from under your nose.

“Oro! – Why?” You whined out but he shook his head and walked back into the kitchen with determined steps.

“Don´t eat that. You need something way healthier.”

“But you´re going to be late for work.”

Orochimaru paused for a moment, then continued putting things from the fridge onto the counter. “I´ll call and say I´ll be late today. After all I don´t have an assistant for nothing.”

You gaped. In all those years, he hadn´t been late for a second. It seemed like parenthood really changed people. With a smile you went behind him for a surprise hug. “I love you.” You whispered into his back.

Orochimaru chuckled. “I love both of you.”

[maydei]

Making Headlines: Part One

one-time cw: mention of nonsexual physical assault and transphobia 

genderfluid!will & doctor!hannibal 

[read the ongoing saga on AO3]

One gunshot wound, successfully stitched closed, and the patient stabilized. It’s his third surgery of the night; the first involved putting pins in a compound-fractured tibia, the second was reattaching the partially-severed finger of a drunk man attempting to operate a table saw. Hannibal has only barely exited the operating ampitheatre when he is accosted by a nurse.

“Oh, Doctor Lecter. I’m really sorry to bother you, um…” Bernadette, one of the newer hires, shuffles in place. She has not yet gotten to the point where she uses her no-nonsense tone on him—Hannibal almost finds it funny. Nurses are without a doubt the backbone of the emergency room. He simply goes where they bid him, and now is not the time for her hesitation.

“I understand, of course. Duty calls. Is there another one?” His shift is nearing an end; Hannibal has the good sense to admit he is growing weary. When he’s tired, he’s ineffectual. An ineffectual surgeon can be a death sentence. He is weighing the options of taking on another patient, depending on severity, when she interrupts his thoughts.

“Kind of—Dr. Guthrie is with a patient, and Dr. Cruz just stepped out. We have two patients in their early 20s who were just escorted by police. Suspected concussion and badly bruised rib cage; the other one is in pretty good shape, aside from a split lip and a probably-fractured hand, but they won’t let anyone get near them.”

“Assault?” Hannibal asks, and removes his soiled gloves. He quickly, thoroughly washes with the pungent antibacterial soap up to his elbows. “Assuming it’s not an emergency, then.”

“No,” she says, and uncertainty threads through her voice.

“What is it, Bernadette?”

“One of the patients is gender non-conforming,” she says. “And the police seem to be pretty laser-focused on them.”

Hannibal is silent while he considers this. Transgender and nonbinary people face a much higher risk of assault. It is an unfortunate side to his job that he sees them fairly often. But he has developed something of a reputation for his understanding in dealing with them—in that regard, he’s not surprised Bernadette has brought this to him in absence of searching out Dr. Cruz, who is… decidedly less accepting. He shakes the water from his hands and reaches for paper towels to blot himself dry.

“Understood,” he replies. “Do you have their chart? I can provide an assessment of the situation.”

Bernadette practically deflates with relief. “Thank you, Doctor. Here. I’ll show you to them.”

Hannibal flips the chart open, scanning as he follows his nurse, dodging the hustle and bustle of the busy Saturday-night Emergency Room as a practiced participant. The data in the chart is minimal: William S. Graham, twenty years old, student at the University of Maryland. Nothing in the medical history to cause alarm. Insurance provided through his—their—school.

And then Bernadette leads him behind the curtain, and Hannibal absorbs everything at once.

The officers stand on either side of the bed; there is no safe haven for William to draw away, and thus, they have drawn in on themselves. Their hair is frazzled, piled atop their head in a haphazard knot; damp with nervous sweat at the hairline, wisps of curled bangs hastily swiped away from carefully-outlined blue eyes by bloody knuckles. Their teeth are bared, a row of straight, sharp teeth painted red by a split lip, dripping blood over the artificial sheen of lipgloss.

Hannibal’s keen eyes immediately make note of the darker patches on the knees of their black denim pants that disappear into black boots; contusions on the knees. Their flannel shirt is green and black plaid, smudged with blood and dirt and what appears to be brick dust. It hangs unevenly open, clutched closed by Will’s other hand; a cracked pair of glasses is folded over the gaping collar. Through the gap that reveals smooth, pale skin, Hannibal sees a flash of a black satin undershirt.

“Look, you’re facing arrest for assault and forgery of documents. You shouldn’t have been out at that bar. Just tell us where you got your fake ID, and maybe we can let some of this slide—”

“Are you kidding me?” they snap. Their eyes flash to Bernadette and Hannibal, then back to the cops. “I’ve told you anything relevant. If you can’t do your jobs with what I’ve given you, then you don’t deserve your badges. There had to be thirty witnesses back at the bar.”

“The witnesses don’t change the fact that you were breaking the law,” one of the officers says, and Hannibal feels his blood run cold like ice, slicing through his veins. “Lying about your age, presenting yourself under false pretenses—”

It is a strange sensation, sympathy. One that Hannibal is in no hurry to embrace, and no rush to repeat. But he has always found the treatment of LGBT individuals by law enforcement to be tasteless.

And this is his domain, at least for the moment.

“Officers, I will have to ask you to step outside the curtain,” Hannibal says smoothly. “My name is Doctor Hannibal Lecter, I’m here to tend to the patient.”

“He’s suspected of a crime,” one officer says, short and mean-eyed, and for a moment, Hannibal considers what the flesh of his belly might taste like, rounded as it is beneath his uniform blues. It’s been months since his last display, and of course, this is too close to home—but still, he considers the benefits. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“Short of attempted murder, I will have to insist,” Hannibal replies. His gaze slides to William, and finds himself being sized up, measured by the fury behind sharp blue eyes. There is a predator living inside that skull—or, at the very least, anger enough to fuel one. “HIPAA privacy laws are very clear. I will supervise here; Bernadette, if you would care to escort the officers to question the other patient? This interview seems quite one-sided, considering most of what I see at first glance is an extensive collection of defensive wounds.”

The officers bristle; Bernadette radiates satisfaction. Police escorts are not uncommon in the emergency room, of course, but neither are victims being pressured before being properly tended to… or without legal counsel. Hannibal intends to remedy at least one of those issues.

“Officers, follow me, please,” Bernadette says. “I can lead you to Mr. McCallum, and then to our front desk to fill out chain of custody paperwork.”

They go. Some tension seeps from William Graham’s shoulders, but none of the anger from their face.

“My nurse informed me you wouldn’t let anyone tend to you,” Hannibal says, and makes no move to approach quite yet. “Would you allow me to disinfect your cuts?”

Slowly, slowly, they nod.

Hannibal gathers supplies from the cabinet; sterile wipes, non-stick gauze, and a collection of bandages and paper tape. He rolls the nearby stool to the edge of the bed and sets everything there for William to see, pulls on a pair of nitrile gloves before holding out one hand in silent query.

One shaking, bloody hand is set gently into Hannibal’s palm, and he gets to work.

“What are your preferred pronouns?” Hannibal asks, careful to keep his voice even. He tears open a sterile wipe and swipes in short strokes over the abrasions on bruised knuckles.

“I don’t care,” they reply quietly. “He and him is fine, I guess. I’m not trying to lie to anyone.”

Hannibal nods once. “You have no need to explain yourself. Gender identity is a deeply personal thing. Do you prefer to go by William, or do you have something else you’d like me to call you?”

He swallows. With the rage melting from his body, all that is left is exhaustion and simmering anger, a thin blanket to mask his fear. “Just Will.”

“Hello, Will.” He glances up and offers a small smile. He rarely has cause to use it in the operating room; it feels rusty with disuse, but knows it appears sincere. “I’ll warn you, I am usually a trauma surgeon. I was alerted to the situation by your nurse. I may be called away if another emergency arises, but in the absence of one, I am qualified to tend to your wounds.”

Will says nothing. He takes a deep breath and lets it out; it shudders, and he shivers, drawing his other arm tight around his body. “I was just defending myself. Now they’re coming after me about my fake ID.” He laughs once, bitterly. “Cops don’t care about fake IDs. Not really. They only care because of how I look.”

“And how do you look?” Hannibal asks, curious as to what Will might say.

Will glances up. He meets Hannibal’s eyes and holds them. “Different.”

Hannibal discards one blood-soaked wipe and reaches for the gauze. He wraps Will’s first hand, and tapes the bandage into place. He considers this. “Are we not all different?”

Will scoffs. “Only a special kind of different gets guys to try to beat you up outside a bar.”

Hannibal tsks and holds out his hand for Will’s other. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to belittle your experience. Gender and sexuality-nonconforming individuals are at a much higher risk of violence. I see it often enough within these walls to not be ignorant of the cause.” He sets to work on Will’s other hand; the skin on his fingers is callused with years of hard work, but his fingernails are painted with sheer varnish and carefully shaped. His knuckles, though, are swollen purple and blue—very likely broken. “You will need an x-ray of your hand. It appears you may have fractured your first and second metacarpals.”

Hannibal gently flexes Will’s wrist; when he detects no flicker of a wince or any indication of pain, he hums with consideration. “No inflammation elsewhere; you know how to throw a punch.”

At that, Will grins. It makes his lip stretch, crack, and bleed again. The scent of artificial cherry is the only indication that the flushed color of his mouth is not solely from spilled blood. “Yeah. Learned that one early on.”

Hannibal answers with a small, satisfied huff. He holds off on wrapping Will’s broken hand and stands to reach for a hospital gown. He sets it on Will’s lap. “There’s blood on your pants; it seems you may have cut your knees. Do you think you can get undressed without hurting your hand and without assistance?”

Will grimaces; the wolf’s smile is gone. “I’m sure I can manage.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Hannibal replies patiently. “I’d be happy to get a nurse to help you—”

Will shakes his head. “Don’t. If you could just…” Will looks frustrated with his own inability, so terribly, vulnerably young. “If you could help me unzip my boots, I can do the rest on my own. I’m not going to hurt myself getting out of my clothes.”

“People manage to hurt themselves doing much less.” Hannibal’s voice is droll and perhaps exasperated, but the most miraculous thing happens:

Will laughs. “Seeing the most graceless of humanity day-in and day-out must get exhausting,” he says with a smile.

Hannibal is stunned. The monster inside him is vindicated, though he does his best to hide it. How strange, the worldly secrets that spill so carelessly out of the mouths of babes. “And the accident-prone.”

“And the violence-prone,” Will adds. He reaches for his boots and winces when he puts weight on his injured hand; shuffles to readjust and recalculate.

Hannibal interrupts before he gets that far. “Allow me.” He keeps himself steady and clinical as he lifts one black leather boot and unzips it from calf to ankle. There is a strange, sensual weight to Will’s eyes on him that borders on unprofessional. He probably should have gotten a nurse to assist Will after all, but alas—“The other, please.”

There is a considering tilt to Will’s smooth jaw, a cautious grace as he uses his toe to push the first boot off, then offer the next. Hannibal narrowly resists wetting his lips at the flash of sheer black stockings underneath.

What a fascinating conundrum.

“I’ll give you a moment,” Hannibal says. “I’m just going to check and make sure there haven’t been any intakes since you’ve arrived. I’ll be right outside.”

“Not worried I’m gonna run?” Will asks. He slips his other foot free and peels the stockings off, turning them right-side out with his careful hands and folding them together in one neat, fluid movement that is unhampered by injury. He leans back against the incline of the hospital bed, and with a flash of challenge and consideration, moves slowly to reach for the button of his pants.

Hannibal waits until his fingers reach the narrow waistband before he averts his eyes and stands. He does not consider it a failure; he knows he shows no disgust on his face, no inappropriate intrigue. The only intrigue he feels is well-concealed, and not so crudely manipulated.

“Without your shoes?” Hannibal replies with a faint tilt of a smile as he heads to the curtain, soiled wipes gathered into his palm to be discarded. “Where would you go? Slip away into the night and back to your dorm? Tend to your wounds yourself?”

“I might do better than you’d expect.” He hears the creak of the hospital bed as Will stands, the rustle of fabric as he begins to undress. It’s crass. Cheeky. Against his better judgement, Hannibal finds it amusing rather than offensive. Will’s attitude is intelligent; not purely reactionary. “I’m resourceful.”

Hannibal resists the urge to look back and behold the sight of Will Graham laid bare. No, not so soon. His shift is near done, but his night has only just become interesting. If nothing else, Hannibal is a patient man.

Something tells him that Will Graham is worth savoring piece by piece.

“I believe you,” Hannibal says, and to his own surprise, he does. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #114

“oh yeah, i’m a reaper man; every good thing, i kill it dead.”

What kind of makeup do you think is appropriate for church?  Who cares.  Wear what you want; I don't see how your makeup affects God's opinion on you while in His house. What would you wear to church?  I don't dress up for the same reason as above.  I just wear my usual. Would/do you like having brown eyes? I like having blue eyes.  It's not that brown isn't pretty, it's just so common. What kind of gift would you appreciate for your birthday? I'm just asking for money again.  Can already go see Sara, time to work towards the tattoo. What do you use Facebook for?  My main reason is legit funny pictures lmao.  There's few people I'm actually actively interested in keeping up with. Would you rather be called a geek, a nerd or a dork?  A geek is 100% a compliment lol. Do you like pretzels? Soft ones, yes.  Especially the ones from those little shops at malls, omgggg.  I'd prefer to not eat hard ones. You want your next pet to be what? A bearded dragon.  Or two rats. Would you spend 20 dollars on a candle?  Ha.  No. What is the goriest thing you’ve seen in real life? There was a deer that died directly beside the road leading to our old house and it was decaying.  I still remember all the maggots squirming around in its side. @_@ Do you take any meds? If so which and why?  Mood stabilizers, anxiety med, something for nausea if one of my mood stabilizers causes it, Melatonin, something for heartburn, and birth control unless I want my uterus to tear me apart from the inside. Is "no glove, no love" your STRICT policy?  If I actually was to have sex, yes.  Even with me on the pill, I'm not taking any risks.  Not getting pregnant. If someone breaks a law, should they be punished if they did not know it was a law?  Depends on the law. Name a band you sort of like:  What a thing to admit, but Blood on the Dance Floor.  I like some of their songs, while others are just too repulsive. In your head do you call yourself 'I’ or 'you’ or both?  Usually "you," and always when I'm trying to calm or reassure myself, because it's like hearing validation of something from another person. Someone tells you 'well there are black people, and then there are (removed term bc fuck that word)’. What do you think?  My former friend used to say that and I fucking hated it. Who REALLY has a higher sex drive, girls or guys? How can you tell?  I might be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure there's science behind men having more of a libido. Do you enjoy wild parties?  I literally could never. Have you ever been stereotyped? As what?  I was called both emo and goth in high school.  It wasn't offensive to me personally, but I don't think I totally fit any stereotype. Who do you know that you believe does not masturbate?  I don't for a number of reasons, and I can name a few others I'm pretty sure don't. Does a cloned human being have a soul? Why or why not?  explosion.gif Who looks better naked, men or woman?  Women.  I'm bi, yes, but penises look fucking disgusting to me personally. Is there anything you won’t say unless someone else says it first?  Nothing immediately comes to mind. What’s your favorite type of doughnut? Either glazed or cake (the totally plain ones). Do you have any candles in your bedroom? Do you light them often?  No, I have an incense burner.  I use it often enough. What is your least favorite thing about your full name?  I just don't like my last name, and my middle name's too common, but at least I like the name itself. What’s your favorite kind of Poptart?  Probably the chocolate sundae one.  But I don't like Poptarts much. Do you think you look good with a hat on? I can't remember the last time I wore a hat. Are there some songs you can’t listen to because they remind you of something? "The Mortician's Daughter" and "Stairway to Heaven." Do you live near a street light?  No. Do you wear any rings? A red gem one I got from Mom, then a "bitch/jerk" friendship ring (Supernatural reference) with my girlfriend. Do you put collars on your cats? When we had cats, yeah. Do you like celery?  Ew no. Did you cry while watching the Notebook?  I've never sobbed at a movie, but I cried, yeah.  I've cried in subsequent watches too lmao.  I think I've always teared up, actually. Do you have a protective mom and dad?  Mom's extremely protective of me.  I'd say Dad's pretty normal. What field trip did you last go on?  Probably for a band competition in high school. Five ways to win your heart:  Uhhh.  Show compassion, patience, generosity, wisdom, and maturity. Your views on mainstream music:  It's getting too vulgar to be on the radio.  I firmly believe children don't need to hear profanity (they don't know when it's inappropriate to use) or talk of sex, and songs just have so much censorship yet lack thereof now.  If you're going to censor almost an entire song, why the hell play it?  Then some songs are so clearly about sex or just openly say the word that it bothers me.  I wouldn't wanna explain what sex is to say my like five-year-old if they heard some of the shit on the radio and asked questions. Put your iPod on shuffle and write that 10 first songs that play: 1.) "Clocks" by Coldplay, 2.) "Paradise City" by Guns N' Roses, 3.) "Blessed With a Curse" by Bring Me the Horizon, 4.) "Let It Die" by Starset, 5.) "I Don't Love You" by My Chemical Romance, 6.) "Animals" by Nickelback, 7.) "Shoots and Ladders" by Korn, 8.) "Divinity Statue" from DMC3, 9.) "Float On" by Modest Mouse, 10.) "This Is Gospel" by Panic! at the Disco. A quote you try to live by: "Life's hard.  Shouldn't you be, too?"  ... It's not meant to be an innuendo. How do you know when someone thinks you’re attractive?  I would literally have to be told lmao. Which one of your relationships was the shortest?  Two weeks and it was fucking stupid. Which was the longest?  Almost four years. If you want to get married, what age? I don't have a set age in mind.  Just whenever my s/o and I are ready. What did you end up getting for Christmas? A PS2 after mine broke years ago ahhhh, way too much money from my dad, his wife, and my grandpa, a "meerkat lover" street sign, a meerkat puzzle I'mma do and frame for my room, some pajama pants, an iHome for my iPod, Pikachu and Grumpy Cat plushies that're too cute, among other things that aren't coming to mind rn. Do you think buying underwear/bras at Victoria’s Secret is a waste?  Meh, mixed feelings.  Like they are way too expensive for some damn bras and underwear, but if they make you feel more confident or pretty in your body, buy them. Do you like glittery things? Usually. Do you like Red Lobster?  It used to be my favorite restaurant, but after I got sick after eating there, I haven't gone since.  Even though I was feeling sick before we went, it's just an association thing. What are you most scared of?  Relapse, losing certain people. Favorite video game?  "Silent Hill 2" Do you believe that leaving a significant other for someone else is ever a good idea?  YUP. because if you loved the first person, you wouldnt even consider the second.  <<<< This. Do you have any possessions that you’re very attached to, and you’d be absolutely devastated if you damaged or lost them? Absolutely devastated... the little rock I got from my partial hospitalization at Holly Hill.  When someone "graduates," you pick a shiny rock from a jar that gets passed around the room for your "classmates" to wish you well and say anything they'd like to say about you while they hold it.  I cherish that thing so much. What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done, and you got away with it? I guess have oral entirely naked on the old chaise in the living room.  But we were home alone. How much do you want to weigh?  I was totally happy at 120, but I was fine at 140.  Supposedly I should be like 130-something. If you HAD to do your holiday shopping for EVERYONE in only ONE store what store would you pick?  Uh probably Walmart lmao. Do you believe that guns don’t kill people and that people kill people? Why?  People kill people, and that's coming from someone afraid of guns.  You have a choice where you're pointing that thing. What is the difference between a good poem and a bad one?  I don't like ones that are virtually impossible to understand. Which do you need more: sugar, caffeine, alcohol, drugs, sex, sleep?  I'm addicted to caffeine, I can't go two days without it. @_@ Who is someone you know should deserve more respect?  Ha, my Dad from my mom. What movie would you like to see again, that you haven’t watched since you were a kid?  The first movie that came to mind was "Shiloh." Are birds happy in cages? Are pets happy indoors?  I truly doubt birds are happy in cages, but maybe if they have enough entertainment and it's big enough?  But I'm sure like dogs and cats are fine indoors considering a whole house is much bigger.  Though I think bigger dogs especially need to be let out to run around sometimes. Hula hoops or jump ropes?  Jump ropes.  Loved it as a kid.  Now my knees would murder me. Can you understand sign language?  No.  But I remember learning this song in elementary school that we had to sing and do sign language to, but I don't remember any of it. Does anyone in your family hunt?  Nicole, my little sister. How about fish? Me and Dad, maybe his dad. Do you pronounce the "l" in salmon?  No. Have you ever gotten stuck on an amusement park ride? Thank Christ no. Have you ever seen an albino animal?  Maybe?  I've seen a white alligator, but it technically wasn't albino. Have you ever tried summoning Bloody Mary?  No. When is the last time you consumed alcohol? New Year's Eve.  I drank a margarita way too fast but felt nothing because my alcohol tolerance is God-Tier. ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  (Though I like never drink.) Do you ever judge people based on if they believe in God or not? No. Are you sometimes scared to express your opinions in fear of what others might think? Y U P Do you ‘bless’ strangers when they sneeze? Sometimes. Would you rather go to a University or a community college?  The latter if they offered good classes.  It's cheaper, and you can still get a worthy degree. What’s your favorite kind of bread?  Pumpernickel. What toppings do you like on your pizza?  Only jalapenos or pepperoni. What color or design does your shower curtain have?  It's just white. What color is your microwave?  Black. Could you ever give yourself a shot?  If I had to, yeah. Have you ever been so embarrassed that you cried?  Story of my life. How many people have told you they were in love with you?  One. Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted?  Well, we're both girls, so actual sex would be psychically impossible, but I'd do as close as we could to it if she made it very clear she wanted to. Does it bother you when people don’t answer questions with exact answers?  Yes, especially if I'm asking them a question about needing validation for something.  Don't be vague. Have you ever watched a needle go into your own skin?  I usually do so I know exactly when it's coming.  And if I'm getting my blood drawn, I watch it for whatever reason. @_@ Have you ever seen someone get a piercing/tattoo? Yes. Do you like strawberry and banana smoothies?  Strawberry.  I doubt I'd like banana. Do you know someone that is mute, deaf or blind? My sister Ashley is literally blind in one eye, I think her right?  For the other two, idk. What’s your favorite horror movie? I really like both "Blair Witch Project"s, as well as "The Crazies." Is it true that people with depression CAN’T function in society?  Sometimes, absolutely. Can you think of any person or group you cannot empathise with?  Pedophiles, rapists, racists, abusive people, homophobes, the list goes on. Do you want to get married? If so, what color will your dress be? It'll be either black, white, or ivory, idk. Do you like peanut butter and fluff sandwiches?  NO. Do you play video games? If so, what kind?  Yes, just about exclusively story-based ones that usually involve horror.  But I like many others, so long there's actually plot to it. How old is your oldest and youngest friend?  Oldest is like... 32, youngest is 17, I think. How weight conscious are you?  Only extremely. Stripes or polka dots? Polka dots. What was your first word?  "Dada" What's a show that you absolutely refuse to watch?  "13 Reasons Why" Do you remember how old you were when you started swearing? 7th grade. Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before?  I'm actually not sure.  I don't think so.  If it did, Mom never told us. Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls?  Yes, until I think a dirty needle was found in one of McDonald's ball pits. Do you think biting is weird or sexy? I like it so long you don't leave a mark in an obvious spot. Do you have a class ring?  No. What type of internet browser are you using?  Chrome. How long do your showers typically last? Not even ten minutes. Can you cry on cue?  No. Were you a Nancy Drew reader when you were younger?  No. Are you the kind of person that takes pictures with a drink in your hand?  No, and quite frankly, it's obnoxious.  You're getting intoxicated.  Congrats. Do either of your parents have a mental illness?  Mom has depression, and she says Dad's bipolar, but I absolutely don't see it now that they're divorced. When you were growing up, did your family rent or own your home?  Own. When was the last time you wore a full face of makeup?  I couldn't tell you.  The most I ever wear is eye liner, shadow, mascara, and lipstick, but I don't consider that a "full face of makeup." Do you own an iPad?  No. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?  No, thank goodness. Do you think it’s wrong for people to say 'retard/retarded’ as an insult?  I FUCKING HATE IT. How many people of the opposite sex have made you cry?  I think two. Would you eat a live tarantula for $1,000?  No, I just wouldn't be able to.  If it didn't have its fangs, maybe? What’s one health problem you wish you didn’t have?  Anxiety.  Shit would be so much better without it. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom by one year. Do you have any close friends that were adopted? No. Do you believe that people can be psychics? No. List these apple types from greatest to worst: green, red, yellow. Red, green, yellow. Does your house have more than one fireplace?  We don't have even one. When it rains does it leave a lake in your front yard?  No.  My original home was like that, though.  It ALWAYS flooded. Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks?  No, I actually found it flattering to know they wanted me to sign it. Where is one place that you’d never be caught dead in?  A strip club, to name one. Do you have a favorite Scooby-Doo movie?  I loved the Phantom Virus one.  Even had the game. Do you dislike when people ruin the endings of anything for you?  Yes, unless I ask to just be told. You are holding onto your grandmother’s hand and the hand of a newborn that you do not know as they hang over the edge of a cliff. You have to let one go to save the other. Who do you let fall to their death? What was your rationale for making the decision?  ... Whoa.  I'd feel fucking godawful, but I'd save my grandmother.  I'm not calling the baby less human, but my grandmother is more conscious of life and everything, I guess? Which would you choose: true love with a guarantee of a broken heart, or never loved at all? Why? Never love at all.  Heartbreak is fucking awful. Have you ever seen the movie "A Walk to Remember?" Cliche or worth watching?  I think it's worth watching.  Very sweet movie. Do you know how to sew? What’s your favorite thing to sew? No. Do you own many pairs of shorts?  I don't own any. Do you ever have movie nights with your significant other?  Ye<3 Do you like fiction or non-fiction books more? What’s your favorite?  Fiction.  "Johnny Got His Gun" and "The Outsiders." Have you ever slept in the same bed as your friend? Yeah. How many tattoos would you get?  I want LOADS. What brand of toothpaste do you use? Crest. Would you ever tattoo the name of a bf/gf or spouse on yourself?  No.  I'd get a matching tattoo relatively deep into marriage, but name, nah. What’s your least favorite season? Summer. D: What’s your favorite dessert?  Red velvet cake. Do you like cotton candy? Meh, I can have a couple bites. Do you have any shirts signed by famous people?  No. Where do you normally get your hair cut? A family friend's salon. What would your dream engagement ring look like? I really like dragon's breath opal rings or rose gold ones but idk how expensive either are. @_@ What’s the longest your hair has ever been?  Like to the small of my back. How do you feel about bleach blonde hair? Gorgeous on some people, not for me. Do you know anyone who has been arrested? Yes. Name 2 questions that you will most likely never say ‘no’ to:  1.) "Do you wanna go get a tattoo?", 2.) "Do you wanna Skype?" if it's Sara. Imagine someone has a great personality, sense or humor, family and job. they also really really like you a lot. Would you consider dating them if they: Were fat?  Yes. Limped?  Yes. Were a midget?  Yes. Had HIV?  No, because I'm too scared to put myself at risk. Were paralyzed in one arm?  Yes. Had a glass eye?  Yes. Had only 6 months to live?  No, that would destroy me. Would you get married on TV?  No.  I don't want people I don't care about watching. Do you own a metal detector?  No.  I did as a kid, though.

[fandomlife-giver]

Sweet Rain

Summary: Anon request - Could I request... maybe Sebastian and/or Ciel with a s/o that loves rain. Like, if they're ever caught in a light drizzle or just rain in general they'll just have the biggest smile? And they'll watch it rain from inside when it gets too heavy and they were forced to come inside cuz they might get sick and just!! Rain!!

Pairing: Ciel x Reader

Warnings: Well Ciel is like an adult in here or like 18, just not a kid basically.

Word Count: 1933

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You awoke to soft sheets, and the morning light trickled in through the blinds. Shedding yourself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, your eyes were still shut as you soaked in the warmth of your covers before letting your e/c eyes open.

In the darkness of your shared room, your eyelids slid open and your mind's first thought was if it was early in the morning.

It's not early as I suspected.

Rubbing the remaining sleep from your eyes, you rolled over to wrap your arms around your partner, but as you rolled, you felt yourself lay flat against the sheets. After patting the spot a few times, you had to lift your head to realize your fiance was gone.

You couldn't help but frown in disappointment as realization hit you.

Of course he's already up. Sebastian probably woke him hours ago.

With a frustrated sigh, you sat up and swung your legs off the bed and your feet made contact with the cool floor. Your shoulders relaxed at the contact. And after taking a deep breath, you stood up and dragged your feet over to the wardrobe.

Usually, Mey-Rin would come in and try to dress you. She would usually succeed, but you really preferred to do it yourself. Because unlike any other mistress of an Earl, you did not grow up in nobility. There was actually a time when you served him as a maid, because your mother was one.

You were still asking yourself how you ended up being his future wife, even as you opened the wardrobe doors and searched through it for a day dress.

*Knock* *Knock*

"My lady? Are you awake yet?"

Your hands froze as you pulled it off the hanger.

"Uh...no."

You mentally groaned when Mey-Rin opened the door and once she saw what you were doing, her eyes widened behind her cracked glasses and she hurried over.

"Lady Y/N, you should call for me when you wake up!"

Your shoulders drooped as she snatched the dress of your choosing from your hands and politely asked you to raise your arms up.

Being the nice person you were, you complied. And after a good 20 minutes of uncomfortable pain, you were dressed, looking as lovely as a mistress was supposed to be.

"There. Will that be all, my Lady?"

You paused mid-nod and glanced at her.

"Mey-Rin, are you doing anything? Knowing Ciel, he'll probably be in that office of his all day. I would love some company."

She gave a polite, wavering smile.

"I'm so sorry, my Lady. I do have my duties I still need to complete or Sebastian will get upset again."

Smiling to hide your feelings, you nodded.

"I understand. Then yes, that will be all."

With a quick bow of the head, she scurried out of the room and your smile fell.

. . .

"Hey, Bard."

Shooting up with a flamethrower in hand, his head snapped to where you stood in the doorway, raising a curious eyebrow as his goggles fell on his eyes. He cursed as he puled them out of the way.

"Oh, morning, my Lady."

"Um, what were you doing just now?"

He scratched his head and glanced down at the ground.

"Well, uh..."

"Yes, I would like to know as well."

You jumped at the sudden voice and turned, realizing Sebastian was now standing beside you with a hard look towards Bard. Who, went white at the sight of him.

"S-Sebastian! I wasn't doin' anything!"

His eyes narrowed before he turned to you and smiled softly.

"My Lady, my apologies, but Baldroy and I need to have a private conversation. If you would please wait for me in the billiard room, I'll bring you some tea for the inconvenience."

You felt your insides twist.

"Oh. Okay."

. . .

You kept your head down as you walked to the billiard room. But you glanced up as Finny came running down the hall towards you and a smile formed.

"Finny!"

He didn't seem to have noticed you and stopped once you called him.

"L-Lady Y/N!"

"Can you keep me company? Everyone else is-"

"Finny, where have you been?"

Spinning around, you came faced with the man that made you smile.

"Cie-"

"Y/N, dear, can you please stop bothering Finny? He does have a job to do, unlike you anymore."

And this time, the smile he made appear on your face didn't. Instead, your lips pressed firmly together as you held back the sadness his words caused.

"I'm very sorry to have disturbed you both. I'll just...entertain myself."

And without another word, you turned back and walked into the billiard room before shutting the door. It was beginning to be too much for you.

Along with maintaining a perfect profile, attempting to keep any sort of social life, the occasional kidnapping, and keeping that romantic spark lit; it was safe to say you felt as if your life was drowning. As if trying to keep your head above water when the tide was still only shallow was a real burden not only on yourself, but everyone else.

You reached up to take off the necklace around your neck that Ciel had given you to celebrate your engagement and threw it on the table. Then leaning forward, you picked up a book that was resting in a spot in the bookshelf.

And as you were about to open it up, the sound of thunder crackling filled your ears and it made a tiny smile form.

You loved rain. Everything about rain. The tranquility as sheets of precipitation plummeted to the water-forsaken ground, the often unanticipated flashes of lightning or the rolls of ominous thunder. You loved it all.

As you turned your head to the window behind you, you saw outside was an unexpected gift of rain. The wet season didn't generally start for another fortnight but the skies didn't lie. It wasn't a mean rain either, the type that got everyone wet without filling the rain barrels. It was the type that got the streams running with pristine water from the mountains.

The water droplets fell like they simply cannot think of anything better to do. There was a laziness about them, as if they can barely be bothered to conform to the will of gravity. When you held your bare arm out of the manor window the droplets splattered on your outstretched fingers. You tilted your fingers upwards and watched the remnants of the drops run downwards like tiny rivers. With a half smile, you retreated leaving the window open, that way you could hear the steady drumming all the louder while you turned age worn pages of long forgotten books.

But...the more you felt the rain on your skin, the more disinterested reading became. And before you could think twice, you jumped up from your gloomy spot and practically ran out the room. And normally, whenever it rained you would pull Ciel outside with you but his words still echoed in your mind so that didn't happen.

. . .

You stood on the doorstep, your arms folded around yourself in the best hug you could have without Ciel being there. After such a dry summer it was all you could do to stop yourself from dancing barefoot outside while the drops plastered your hair to your face. And then a thought crossed your mind.

Why don't I?

And that half smile stretched as you kicked off your shoes, let down your hair from it's fancy bun and stepped onto the wet grass in front of the manor. That was all it took to make a huge smile spread on your kips and before you could doubt your actions, you went of sprinting through the grass, twirling around in the ecstasy of the rain.

And somehow, mother nature made you feel the happiest you've been since you became a Lady. You never really felt like you belonged in the position you were in and today felt like proof.

Unfortunately, that happiness didn't last long.  Although the feeling of the rain was good, the cold was beginning to get to you, even though you tried to ignore it. You began holding yourself to stop your arms from shivering. You fell to your knees as they, too, felt freezing.

Maybe I should've thought this out more.

"Y/N! Where are you?!"

You felt hot tears form from your eyes once you hears your name being called.

"Ciel..."

You huddled into yourself until you could hear his footsteps on the grass, until his arms wrapped around you.

"Y/N, what are you doing out here? You can catch a cold."

"There she is!"

"The master found her!"

"Oh my goodness, my Lady, are you all right?!"

He snickered as he glanced back at the servants.

"She's fine. Give her some space."

Your lips trembled as he took off his coat and wrapped it around you.

"I just didn't want to bother anyone anymore..."

They all tensed up when you said that and guilt was present in their faces. Ciel's was unreadable, as usual, until he reached his arms under your legs and picked you up bridal style. He paused to look at Sebastian.

"Bring her something to warm her up."

He placed a hand over his heart.

"As you wish, my Lord."

"We'll be in our room, no one disturb us."

They all bowed their heads.

"Yes, master."

Your grip tightened on his now soaking wet shirt and you buried your head in his chest to hide your humiliation.

. . .

The second he opened the door, he slammed it shut with his foot and gently placed you on the bed.

"Ciel, I-"

"Shh"

He didn't even give you time to speak as he pushed you down on it and climbed in after. You didn't know what he was thinking, so your cheeks flushed as your imagination went wild. But those thoughts left as he pulled you into his lap and wrapped the covers around the both of you.

"That was an idiotic move, you understand that, don't you?"

"I just-"

"Shh"

He placed a finger on your lips to hush you.

"You know how busy we all are, Y/N. And I expect you to know how much we all do care for you. You're smart enough to know that I will always make time for you, no matter how busy I am."

You turned your body to face him. And it was when you saw the fresh drops of rain on his face that you realized he was willing to get wet for you.

"And you should know how much I love the rain."

His eyes moved on you and he tilted his head playfully, a small smirk playing on his lips as he put a finger to them.

"Shhh"

Then he leaned forward and rubbed his nose against yours, before grazing your lips with his.

Before the door opened up.

"Master, I brought some tea-"

"Ugh, Sebastian!"

He turned and briefly left your side to yell in Sebastian's face about knocking and it made you giggle. He actually took the tray of tea from him and shut the door on him and you shook your head at him. To your surprise, he didn't come back to you and it made you frown.

Nope, instead, he went to the large window and placed the tea on the table next to the chair that sat beside it. Your lips parted as he opened the window and crossed back over to you. He lifted you up in his arms again to sit you in his lap as you faced the open window.

You turned your head to him as he was still grumbling about Sebastian.

"There. Now you can enjoy this blasted rain without catching hypothermia."

A warm smile graced your face as you leaned forward to capture his lips with yours. Once you pulled away, you caught the brief flash of red on his cheeks.

"Thank you, Ciel."

"....You're welcome."

You both spent the rest of the day watching the thunderstorm, drinking the Earl Grey tea brought to you, curled up beside each other. Yep. The rain always made you happy.

[wankadi]

“See you on the other side”

Hi guys! Today I’ve reached 150 follows! Thank you so much! That’s why I wrote for you all “See you on the other side” - short Bellarke fanfiction that is the alternative ending of S4 in the bunker! (So sorry for any mistakes, I haven’t had much time to check it, and English is not my native language!)

Enjoy! 

~*~*~

Even when everyone was safe. Even when people from thousands became 1200. Even when there was no danger threatening any of them and the leader was chosen, there was something, that Bellamy, Clarke, Monty, Murphy or anyone from the old delinquents couldn’t deal with. Something that made them doubt in worth of being where they were.

Raven stayed in Becca’s lab. And she was going to die in less than 24 hours.

They were all in the main room, even Kane, Jaha, Abby and Octavia with Indra. The weight of made decisions was overwhelming, everyone was trying to figure out the way to keep the peace between the Clans for the next five years, but leaving friend to die wasn’t something the delinquents could just ignore. The truth was obvious, but no one spoke about that before. No one could break the unspoken tension around this topic.

Maybe that’s why Murphy suddenly interrupted Kane and his conversation with others about food rations that he didn’t give a damn about.

“You said that 10 hours is what we need to get to the island, right?”

The room went silent for a while, as Kane look up at him with a bit of surprise in his eyes. Then he cleared his throat and spoke with steady, but also dissapointed voice.

“We can’t save her, Murphy” then his sight moved from face to face, realising them that those words are for all of them. “We spoke to Raven. She’s having only one tank with an oxygen for no more than 10 hours. And no rover to came here back with. And we have both-”

 “So why are we standing here instead of going to save her while we still can?” Bellamy tried to be quiet, but his emotions were as always out of control and he was surely done talking. Especially when it turned out they’ve had the equipment.

Kane’s sight came back to the maps of their bunker, just like he thought this could be an escape from answering for it and the way for leaving it to whoever else was in that room.

But this time, Monty was the one to break the silence.

“Because there’s no oxygen for us to go back with…”

And that hit them hard.

Bellamy saw their expressions and felt almost like he was looking at the mirror. Monty scowled with his gaze on the floor, as he always did when something huge bothered him. Murphy closed his eyes with face that was like a warning to not come any closer. Except Emori, who put the hand on his shoulder with sad eyes locked on him with concern. Harper seemed to be out of air in her lungs. 

Then he turned his head to look anxiously at Clarke.

But she was gone.

He felt his heart skipping a beat. His body worked faster than his mind, so he saw himself quiting a room and running through the exit. He’s heard the voices screaming behind him, asking where he’s going, but he couldn’t stop. Not in this moment. Not in any moment.

He felt his lungs working so fast that he couldn’t get enough air. It was burning, but he didn’t care. Only thing that mattered in that moment was to be there on time.

To prevent Clarke’s suicide.

But when he was at the end of the stairs and wanted to turn left, the door were closed. The only thing he had left was round window where he saw her. In suit, with helmet in her hands and tears running down her face.

And that was something that broke him completely.

His fists started to punch in the door.

“Open the door, Clarke”. His voice unwillingly shivered with anxiousness.

She looked up at him with no shock. Instead, she came closer to the window and her eyes met his.

“I have nightblood-”.

“U n t e s t e d nightblood!”. Bellamy screamed with a fist hitting the door right next to the window. His gaze was full of emotions he’s ever felt to her, mixed with deadly fear and uncertainty rising in him with every single second passing.

Clarke couldn’t stop the new wave of tears. They were stuck in her eyes, making them shine the way he’d never seen.

“Raven is our friend. If I’m having an opportunity to help her, I won’t hesitate”. And before he could desclaim that, she continued. “It has to be done, Bellamy. And you need to let me do this”.

Silence came right when it should. The intense look he gave her spoke for itself. She looked at him with the untold feelings, shattering apart with the unstoppable moment approaching them faster then they thought.

Then, Bellamy felt the tear on his cheek and his vision went blured. With voice cracking from pain, he would never expect to feel for anyone other than his family, he told her the obvious truth, he couldn’t tell her before.

“I need y o u”.

And then Clarke took a deep breath, hearing those words. With a quiet sob after that, she put a hand with a suit on it on the glass, and looked like she was even more in pain than before. 

“I have to save our people” her voice was unstable, but she kept on talking, making sure he’s heard her. “And you have to protect them. Promise me”.

Bellamy leaned forward, far enough to see her clearly, with a forehead on the glass. Then he carefully put a hand right when hers was on the other side, looking at them and wishing there was no glass, so he could’ve felt the warmth coming from Clarke’s body.

Then she leaned too, with a forehead right in front of his, and that moved his attention back to her eyes. He saw she was waiting for him to respond. Since now, all of the Skaikru were h i s people, and protecting them was something he’s always done. And he knew he would still.

So he did what she was asking for.

“I promise”.

And suddenly, the time hit them hard with the ticking clock, locked on Clarke’s forearm. But none of them moved even a bit. Bellamy saw her eyes closing and felt another tear running down his cheek. He closed his too.

That was it.

“May we meet again” she said.

“May we meet again” he replied.

The emptiness broke into his heart as an illness, despite that he knew it had to be done. Clarke has always put their people first. She was going to be remembered as good leader, good friend and the hero of the humanity. He always knew it. And this time wasn’t different. 

But this time was the last time. 

Their together came to the end.

And he felt it even more, when he opened his eyes and she was gone.

~*~*~

(dedicated to @nerdyfangirl08 and @morfangirl-20 and all of my precious mutuals and good souls on this tumblr)

[jpn-langblr]

70 Questions Tag

Thanks @to-japan-and-back for tagging me in all of these! I’ll do my best to answer c:

1. do you have a good relationship with your parents?

It’s a little strained. Without sounding too much like an ungrateful teenager, they absolutely do not treat me as an adult when I am visiting them. So I see them as little as possible without making them upset.

2. who did you last say “i love you” to?

My boyfriend, yesterday night

3. do you regret anything?

AbsoLUTEly. Mainly about my own behavior in the past.

4. are you insecure?

Oh yeah. I don’t think of my accomplishments as accomplishments, I often think I look fat as a hippo (even though hippos are cute (murderers) and I am almost underweight). It’s a problem, but I can’t even express how much I’ve improved my self confidence since high school.

5. what is your relationship status?

Taken, and happily so for - 7-8 months now?

6. how do you want to die?

IN A BLAZE OF GLORY SKYDIVING OVER A VOLCANO Just in my sleep, yeah. I want my ashes to be spread over the ocean.

7. what did you last eat?

Toast with raspberry jam.

8. played any sports?

Lmao noooooo

9. do you bite your nails?

No. I PICK at them, it’s a horrible habit, but I am slowly getting better at it.

10. when was your last physical fight?

Never, I’m tiny and weak. If I were ever in a physical fight I’d be ded.

11. do you like someone?

Yes! A lot of people. I have lovely friends.

12. have you ever stayed up for 48 hours?

HAHAHAHAH. I take naps every day. No way. 27 hours is the longest I’ve been up.

13. do you hate anyone at the moment?

No, I don’t have reason to Hate anyone.

14. do you miss someone?

At the moment, not really.

15. have any pets?

I wish!!

16. how exactly are you feeling at the moment?

Relaxed, a little anxious about my upcoming DnD session in a few hours time.

17. ever made out in the bathroom?

No, but I made out with my boyfriend in the cold room where they stored his sister’s wedding cake (at her wedding, obviously). We were discovered by the high school kid who helped out in the kitchen. It was HILARIOUS.

18. are you scared of spiders?

THEY ARE SO GROSS

19. would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

If I could go back and undo a couple of things I said and did, and then come back, yes, absolutely.

20. where was the last place you snogged someone?

In my bed.

21. what are your plans for this weekend?

Today I have DnD with some people from uni, which has demolished my plans for a study date at the library, so that might happen tomorrow instead. Other than that, laundry and studying.

22. do you want to have kids? how many?

Yes! Two, a boy and a girl, girl is the oldest, if I could choose.

23. do you have piercings? how many?

N o p e and I probably never will. The thought of getting a piercing scares me shitless.

24. what is/are/were your best subject(s)?

English, Danish - language subjects, basically. According to my grades, I am alos ok at history, although I’ve no idea what I’m doing ahaha

25. do you miss anyone from your past?

Nah

26. what are you craving right now?

More coffee. Haven’t finished my cup yet.

27. have you ever broken someone’s heart?

No, the other way around. I have rejected one or two people, but that was WAY before anything ever happened, so I doubt that can be described as acts of heart-breaking.

28. have you ever been cheated on?

Never.

29. have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

Yes, but only happy tears <3

30. what’s irritating you right now?

How much I actually dislike my current DnD campaign and how I haven’t said anything yet.

31. does somebody love you?

Yes, of course, I’m wonderful *flips hair*

32. what is your favorite color(s)?

Greens of all kinds! And then yellows.

33. do you have trust issues?

No, I’m very trusting, but if I first feel a little suspicious about you then I have a  hard time trusting you again.

34. who/what was your last dream about?

My ex and a flock of sheep he lost in his house.

35. who was the last person you cried in front of?

My boyfriend.

36. do you give out second chances too easily?

Define ‘too easily’. I don’t think so.

37. is it easier to forgive or forget?

I have an excellent memory. Forgiveness is easy.

38. is this year the best year of your life?

No way, I might live for ages yet, there’s no way to tell if this is the best year of my life!

39. how old were you when you had your first kiss?

19

40. have you ever walked outside completely naked?

Oh yeah

51. favorite food?

Anything that’s been prepared with love and care and an intention to make it as delicious as possible. You can taste that.

52. do you believe everything happens for a reason?

No, the universe is one huge coincidence.

53. what is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

Played Civ VI with my boyfriend.

54. is cheating ever okay?

No way??? Who would ever think that. You are getting yourself an unfair advantage (or really hurting someone!) over people who worked hard and trusted you.

55. are you mean?

Yes, but only if I really dislike someone, and even then I often remind myself that there’s no real reason to be mean. If I’m ever mean to someone’s face, it’s a good indicator that I’m extremely irritated with them.

56. how many people have you fist fought?

Only myself. I’m the reigning champion.

57. do you believe in true love?

Yes, but I also believe there are many versions of it.

58. favorite weather?

THUNDER.

59. do you like the snow?

NO. It’s wet and cold and only good if no one’s walked in it. I hate snow, it’s all slush and ew and no. No, no.

60. do you wanna get married?

Yeah, sure, but mostly because of legal reasons, not so much because it’s romantic.

61. is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

VERY dependent on my relationship with them. Super old, good friends are allowed. People I’m dating are allowed. Everyone else can go away.

62. what makes you happy?

Understanding something I’ve been struggling with, suddenly making a connection between things, my boyfriend pulling me in front of the mirror and showing me “the cute girl in there” when I hate how I look.

63. would you change your name?

I used to hate it, but I really like it now. So, no!

64. would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

No, I love him.

65. your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Let him down very gently, and let him have some distance and time to figure out his feelings before I reach out to him again. That’s the healthiest, most painless way to do it, I believe.

66. do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

Yeah.

67. who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

My boyfriend

68. who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

My boyfriend

69. do you believe in soulmates?

Hmm... I don’t believe you are only ever destined for ONE person. You can be soul mates with lots of people. I don’t think I believe in it, no.

70. is there anyone you would die for?

My little sister, my mom, and boyfriend. I’m not sure about my dad, which is a horrible thing to say. Our relationship is strained, but I like him.

Hoo, boy! Considering this is so long, I’ll leave this open and let anyone who wants to do this do it!