#You understand........ You get it.............

[allimili]

Shadow Milk Cookie's reaction when Y/n Cookie spends more time with Pure Vanilla Cookie than with him

the supposed ask for this below!

[begaydodrughailsatan]

@justablah56 i hate work and cooking and being to hot<3 you hate work and cooking and being to cold <3 this is about 40% of our friendship <3

"nobody likes a complainer" you say, like an idiot, as if thriving ecosystems of friendships aren't blossoming every day based solely on people vocally disliking the same things in similar ways

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

“i can’t say it, i’m shy,” reader x “need you to use your pretty words,” simon riley

—ㅤ ꒰ྀིㅤ simon riley x reader ಿৎ

mentions of: vaginal sex, slight degradation, soft dom simon until the last comment at the end teehee, age gap briefly mentioned

“‘m shy si,” you mumbled softly, your voice barely audible as you avoided eye contact, your cheeks heating up as simon had you pinned down naked, your legs wrapped around his waist as your ankles dug into his lower back.

he tutted, “need you to use your words alright luvie? yer not gonna come by staying silent.” simon knew just how shy you were, the way you followed him around like a lost puppy, your big eyes staring at him before understanding what you want and taking you to bed. but no, this time he wanted you to say it. “yer older man is asking you and yer gonna say no?”

you looked away from him, your teeth sinking down to your bottom lip as the blush spreads down to your chest. “need you to make me come si,” you muttered out quickly, too soft and fast for him to understand. a low chuckle left simon’s mouth. “come on luvie, we can do better than that.”

though his thrusts didn’t stop, his cock abusing your small leaking cunt as the bed frame creaked,“give it another go luvie, good girls use their voice yeah?” his eyes glued to the way your tits bounced, your eyes rolling back as he continued to edge you for what felt like forever.

slowly your chest started to rise and fall heavily, your breaths coming out as pants as simon continued to fuck you like his own personal flesh light. “come on baby, breathe,” he reminded you as you started to get a little hazy, your eyes dilated and unfocused.

“i know it’s a lot yeah luvie? must feel good too, but need you to try again.”

“i wanna come si,” you moaned desperately, your perfectly manicured nails creating crescent indents on his muscular shoulders. “there we go, wasn’t that hard was it baby?” he cooed. “want me to fuck yer sweet lil cunt till your drippin’?”

“who knew a sweet soft girl like you was a slut begging to be filled hm?”

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink

You’re trying. 

Your body language betrays you. The effort and the turbulence beneath, your eyes flicking rapidly through the parking lot, the ramrod straight line of your spine, your quadricep tensing and relaxing under his palm as he works his fingers from your knee up, back and forth. 

“What’s wrong?” You sigh. Slump. Turn to face him with an anxious pout. 

“I just… I don’t love the restaurant store.” He gives you a chance, and then prompts, pushes just slightly.

“What’s the rule?” 

“Tell you when I’m scared, or anxious. Or overwhelmed.” He squeezes approval, and you continue. “It’s chaos, especially on a Sunday, and… it’s like a warehouse so the sound bounces…  all of it is really loud.” You latch onto his forearm, hard intake of breath sharp before softening, your fingers applying firm pressure. He doesn’t mind. You’re anchoring yourself to him, with him. It’s all he could ask for. 

“It’s okay baby, we’ll get it done and then go home. I’ll be with you.” Your head bobs repeatedly with a nod, but you make no effort to unbuckle your seatbelt or get out of the car. You need a little comfort, a little encouragement, things that are his job to provide, so he’s out of the truck on his side to open the passenger door, reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.” He works his thumb behind your teeth and rests it on your tongue, a pleased flush rushing through him when you immediately pull and suck on him. “Good girl.” You calm almost immediately, strained muscles and back turning plush, tight corners of your eyes smoothing away. When you lean in, looking for more contact, he decides to test the limits. Your limits. “Breathe through your nose,” he murmurs encouragingly as he presses deeper into your mouth, “there we go.” You try, but when his knuckles meet your lips and his thumb brushes your throat, the back of your tongue, you seize up, trying to swallow, trying to find air, and jerk away, gagging. He follows the movement, width of his hand against your neck with a finger against your pulse, keeping you steady and still through the swift rise and then decline of panic. It crashes like a wave, receding just as quick and leaving something in its place.

You blink rapidly, gears turning, so obviously trying to reconcile something you’re feeling, something he can so easily read. Worry. Shame. Spiral.

“Stop.” He brushes a kiss across your forehead. “Don’t go there. When it’s time, I’ll take care of you. Do you understand?” Your chest loosens. 

“Yes daddy.” Music to his ears.

“Does your throat hurt?” 

“It’s okay.” He cups the back of your head, guides you into his arms, and place your ear over his heart. You’ve started to tap your fingers with the rhythm, against your skin or his, self soothing, and it makes him whole. It’s not just a sexual dynamic with you, it’s everything, an entire soul under his shelter, a whole human using his heartbeat to ground themselves, and nothing is more fulfilling. “Ready to go?” You tug on him instinctively, hopping from the truck, keeping your grip locked in his. 

“Yeah.” He smiles at your resolve, the confidence. 

“Brave girl. C’mon.” 

It doesn’t bother him that you lock up again, the store is a madhouse. It’s overcrowded, and loud, the metal roof of the warehouse doing nothing to dull the senses, bright lights and too many boxes, bags, things being tossed around. 

You’re wide eyed, rooted to the floor, still clutching his arm in a stranglehold and he herds you towards a corner. 

“Tell me.” You don’t start immediately, scrounging around for words, and he encourages with a gentle reminder. “Remember your rules baby.” It doesn’t take anymore coaxing after that. 

“I’m overwhelmed.” You blurt, wincing, but just as he predicted, hoped, you visibly relax, and he takes your face in his hands. Holds his whole world. 

“Proud of you sweetheart.” Tears shine in your eyes, dew drops in the corners, and when one falls he wipes it away. “Do you need me to finish your list?” 

“Please, if it’s…” He doesn’t waste time, just moves you to the cart, stations you at the helm so you can steer and he can manage the rest. 

“You’ll push the cart, and stay in the middle of the aisles. I’ll get the things you need.” You blow out a breath. 

“Okay.” 

“When?” 

“Dunno. Sometime next week, I think. Wasn’t real clear.” Simon groans, rubs his nose into his palm and then pauses, listening for footfalls in the hall or the adjacent bedroom.

“Well, if they’re goin’ we are too. I’ll see what’s going on, let you know later.” Gaz grunts an affirmative and hangs up. He’s been restless, itchy, just like the others, but Simon’s in no rush. 

Not now. 

Not when he has you, here in house, with your things in his bedroom, his bathroom, with your toothbrush next to the sink. The slow migration of your stuff has begun and is in full swing, two fuzzy blankets, your switch, your kindle, even that weird pillow you have that you call Pusheen. It’s a stuffed cat of some kind, he thinks, and you use it as a pillow half the time, which means it’s little eyes are sometimes staring at him in bed. 

But you love it, and you don’t know yet, but he loves you. 

Every sweet piece, even the weird stuffed cat. 

Which is why he’s dreading the next mission, the next time he loads onto an airplane and drops into an undisclosed location, the next time he has to turn his mind dark, shutter his heart, forget about anything that could interfere with completing an objective. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t want it. 

And he doesn’t want to dwell on it right now either, so he shoves back from the desk and closes his laptop, opting to find you instead. 

You’re in the kitchen. There’s a beater in your hands, something else that’s new to him, and the rich scent of chocolate in the air. 

“What’s this?” He tugs you close, holds you against him with your back to his chest, kisses your ear. 

“Whipped cream.” You shiver, goosebumps raising the hair on your arms. “It’s for…. I made hot chocolate?” 

“Is that a question?” He nips your skin. it’s getting harder to control the instinct, the urge to mark you in every way possible. 

“N-no it’s… I made it. You can make whipped cream! I don’t know why anyone buys whipped cream in a can. I mean, I know. It’s because they don’t realize how easy it is. It’s really so simple and so much better. Obviously, people don’t have time to make it by hand, I know that, I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad, but…” 

“But?” He squeezes your hip. 

“But… it’s so good this way.” The stainless steel bowl glints under the kitchen’s pendant light. “Do you want some?” 

“Of course.” You bounce a bit on your toes, the smile he dreams about lighting up your face. “I don’t think I’ve ever had hot chocolate.” You give him a shocked look.

“Wha… what?” He shakes his head and sips. It’s silky and smooth, but not something that would rot your teeth. There’s a hint of decadent bitterness to it, well balanced, a roasted coffee taste of some kind.

“Didn’t get a lot of sweet stuff, ’til you.” Whipped cream dots your upper lip and he tries to tamp down the rushing blood in his veins. 

“That’s um… that’s…” He puts the mug down, already half empty. 

“It’s what, sweetheart?” 

“It’s nice.” You whisper, drifting closer, and he slides his hands up under your hoodie. 

“Hmm,” You’re so soft, everything about you, head to toe, and you tremble under his touch, the circles he scrawls into your skin as you try to regulate your breathing. He can’t help himself. “You were such a good girl for me today, weren’t you?” 

“Yes daddy, I tried.”

“You were. So good, and so sweet,” he taps your phone and sighs at the glowing numbers on the screen. Tomorrow. “It’s late, and you should be asleep already, go on.” He urges you away from the kitchen with a pat on your ass, even as you try to protest. “Bed, little berry girl.” 

“I can clean up-” 

“Bed,” he pauses, cocks his head and reaches for the bowl of whipped cream. “Will this still be good in the morning?”  Maybe he’ll wake you up with his mouth on your nipples, tongue working circles through cream as he drags his teeth across them, pinching them so he can hear your surprised little squeak. He’d paint you with his own if you were ready, decorate your body with his cum, drag it down to your pussy and then smear it over your clit, working back and forth until you were making your own mess on his hand. 

“Um… yes? If it’s left in the fridge.”

Maybe… 

“Perfect.” 

[leapdayowo]

this is so validating to see after years of having to come to this conclusion (this is also worded very well and has helped me organize my thoughts on the matter so thank you op!). I’m still haunted by my 6th grade teacher who had a list of “banned words” we couldn’t use in our writing which included “said” and “big.” I wrote a horror short story for her class where a child character described something as big because I felt that was the first word a little kid would use. I got points marked off for it, even when I explained my reasoning, and I was seething as I wrote “ginormous” instead and submitted the paper for a better grade. I remember my mom talking with me and working me through all those big and frustrating emotions that came from that experience. It felt wrong to straight up ban a word from being used in our writing; especially, when all the books I was reading at the time from award winning authors had those words. I wish I had been told this instead. That I could use those “banned words,” but I should be considerate of when I’m relying on them too much.

so yeah, definitely some good advice!

I've already said that my number one piece of writing advice is to read.

But my number two piece of advice is this: be deliberate.

Honestly this would fix so many pieces of bad writing advice. Don't forbid people from doing something, tell them to be conscious and deliberate about it. This could help stop people from falling into common mistakes without limiting their creativity. Black and white imperatives may stop a few annoying beginner habits, but ultimately they will restrict artistic expression.

Instead of "don't use epithets": "Know the effect epithets have and be deliberate about using them." Because yes, beginners often misuse them, but they can be useful when a character's name isn't known or when you want to reduce them to a particular trait they have.

Instead of "don't use 'said'" or "just use 'said'": "Be deliberate about your use of dialogue tags." Because sometimes you'll want "said" which fades into the background nicely, but sometimes you will need a more descriptive alternative to convey what a character is doing.

Instead of "don't use passive voice": "Be deliberate about when you use passive voice." Because using it when it's not needed can detract from your writing, but sometimes it can be useful to change the emphasis of a sentence or to portray a particular state of mind.

Instead of blindly following or ignorantly neglecting the rules of writing, familiarize yourself with them and their consequences so you can choose when and if breaking them would serve what you're trying to get across.

Your writing is yours. Take control of it.

It probably sounds like I'm preaching to the choir here because most of my mutuals are already great writers. But I'm hoping this will make it to the right people.

[highdramas]

ok but first or second year resident flirting with jack’s wife knowingly or unknowingly that she’s jack’s wife and jack is losing it over the whole thing and keeps giving the newbie death stares from across the room whenever the newbie is near is wife and dana sees this all go down from the nurses station and just prepares for jack to go ape if the newbie crosses a line

rookie mistake | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!attending!wife!reader

warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), jack defends you because you are his lovely wife <3

word count: 1.8k

notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. ANON THANK YOUUUU FOR THIS REQUEST <3 i adored this one <3 this is a continuation of ring of fire set in the future, but it's not necessary to read to understand this fic. if you would like to, though, you can find that here <3 not proofread so apologies for any errors!

on monday, you resign yourself to cut the newbie some slack. i mean, alex doesn't know, and if he did, you're almost certain that he would knock that shit off immediately. but... there's a small part of you that finds it a little bit amusing. and maybe you should be good and hold your hand up and say the words that would make any wise man run far, far away: "sorry, kid. you know your attending? yeah, that's my husband."

but that would just be too easy.

tuesday, you're ultimately surprised by the gumption that he has to continue to flirt with you. he says your name like he's purring it, and you can't help but scrunch your nose up slightly, looking up at the board to see where your skills are most needed. the amusement has mostly dissipated, being followed by a certain brand of annoyance that only a twenty five year old boy can draw out of you.

you roll your head to look at your forty nine year old man, coming out of the trauma that had come in thirty minutes ago, only to find that his gaze is already on you. his cheeks are slightly red, hands on his hips, eyebrows screwed up in that way that indicate to you that he's weighing his options about what the best course of action is, here. you wave at him with your fingers, and the new resident, alex, follows your gaze. he gives a big toothy grin to your attending and it takes everything within you to keep your face as neutral as possible. "man, abbot's a cool fuckin' dude," he says under his breath with a truly earnest reverence, and it almost makes you feel bad. almost.

"he's the best of us," you say, and it's entirely truthful. you can tell that jack is still cued in on your conversation. you slide your glance back over to him and wink before you look back to alex.

"yeah." he doesn't take a beat to look back at you with that unbridled hunger that he had been throwing your way through both of the shifts you'd worked together. "so. what're you doing after all of this?"

with raised eyebrows, you shrug your shoulders. "i have an idea or two." he looks just a hair too excited, and your face drops. "not like that. you know, if you want to be a doctor, you do need to actually have an attention for detail." you raise your left hand, revealing the gold band that you wear when you're working. “less flirting. more charting. go.”

when you look over at abbot with a slight exasperation, he just raises one eyebrow at you, and offers a tentative thumbs up– almost a question.

you give him a thumbs up back.

–

the next day, alex was going around to every person that you both worked with, attempting to get intel on you, and your love life.

dana scoffs when she hears the words come out of his mouth. “i mean, he can’t be all that. there’s no way he’s better than me. i was a diver at duke! i had a full ride!” the words are said with such true arrogance that even dana has to laugh.

“oh, kid, if only you knew.” she claps him on the shoulder and points her finger at him. “i’m only gonna tell you this once, alright– after that, you’re on your own. and don’t say i didn’t warn you.” she looks at him down the bridge of his nose– a remarkable feat, considering alex is nearing 6’1. “you don’t want to try your luck. you feel me?”

“but–”

“ah– what did i just say? you don’t want to try your luck. believe me.” she claps that same shoulder again. “and if you do, i knew nothing, and had nothing to do with it.”

you lean against the counter, very obviously eavesdropping, not like you really care– when abbot slides up beside you. he looks over his shoulder at alex, who is, of course, already looking at you. when he meets abbot’s gaze, his eyes go wide and he turns right around, going back to north-11 to finish up with the norovirus patient that jack had put him on. following jack’s line of sight, you can’t help but smirk as you watch alex take in a big gulp of air, slap a mask on, and step into what you’re sure is a hell made entirely of shit and vomit.

“you know,” you say lowly, your elbow brushing jack’s. “that is just mean.”

“all interns get a noro case when they come in,” he says seamlessly, looking between the board and the patient notes that he’s trying to wrap up. “it’s textbook.”

“his first day was three days ago. you usually give it at least a couple of weeks before you start sticking them on noro or food poisoning.”

“not all interns flirt with my wife, relentlessly, in front of me.” jack puts his undivided attention on you.

“oh my god.” you’re smirking. you’re smirking, wide, at your computer. when you look over at jack, you say, “you’re not seriously jealous of the kid?”

“it’s about respect.”

“i don’t think he’s even picked up on us yet. which is hilarious, in and of itself.” you finish up with your chart and put a hand on your hip. “no one’s telling him.”

“he keeps this shit up, he’ll be hearing it from me.”

you hum and pat your hand on his chest. he catches it, his thumb rubbing at the ring you wear. “you’re sexy when you’re jealous,” you say under your breath, close enough to him that you can get away with a little workplace flirting.

“i’m not jealous.”

–

he is jealous.

he’s jealous when he watches this kid– yeah, you may only be five years older than him, but he doesn’t linger on that fact too long– blatantly flirt with you. he gets jealous when alex leans in slightly towards you during shift, just a little too close than is friendly while you review patient notes and ongoing care. but then, he watches you do your little semi-awkward shuffle to the left, and he can’t even help his smirk. and then you look over your shoulder, make this face that says, can you believe this guy? and suddenly, it’s not that he’s jealous. it’s just that he loves you.

but then, on that thursday, alex touches you.

at first, you don’t even notice what he’s done. a little piece of hair has fallen into your eyes out of the tortoiseshell clip that you love so much– the one that jack picked up for you at a cvs because he knows how much you love tortoiseshell. and it’s so faint that you barely even register it. but it doesn’t matter. because you may not have realize, but jack certainly has.

alex’s hand hasn’t even dropped from where he’s tucking that loose piece of hair behind your ear when jack surges up, dana hot on his heels. “woah, woah, woah, let’s all cool it–” dana starts, but it’s no use.

jack puts a firm hand on alex’s shoulder, squeezing tighter than necessary. certainly firm enough to drive home his point. “hey, buddy,” jack says lowly, just enough so that alex can hear him loud and clear, without causing a scene that draws the attention of the entire emergency department. he has that sort of simmering intensity that always makes something swirl in your belly. “look, i’ve tried to be cool, man. i really have. but i’m only going to tell you this one time before i pull in a favor with gloria so that you complete your residency somewhere else. keep those grubby fucking hands off of my wife.”

mortification is an understatement for what you assume alex must be feeling. his face is beet red, eyes darting between you and abbot so fast you’d want to get him in for a head CT if he kept it up any longer. “i– holy shit– i did not know.”

“i know you didn’t,” jack says with a resolute nod. “but now you do. so keep your hands to yourself and we won’t have a problem.” he pats alex’s back once, and you cover your mouth with one hand and peer over at dana with wide eyes. she, can only shrug, roll her eyes, put her readers back on, and turn back to the charge desk. “go get a sandwich from the bin and take ten minutes. go.” 

alex looks at you and you feel bad, almost. you smile at him and say, “next time, if a woman says she’s not interested… take it at face value, before jack abbot has to get involved.”

“yes, ma’am. it will not happen again.” alex gives one last nod to jack, like a nervous teenage boy, before he’s off running towards the staff lounge with his tail between his legs.

jack rubs a hand over his face. you bite down on your lip, look at him, and you start to chuckle. soon, jack’s laugh begins to mix with yours, coalescing until you’re leaning against the charge desk with tears clouding your vision, his dimples fully out and on display.

“man,” he says, shaking his head. “i feel a little bad.” he says, his laughter still holding him by the sleeve, begging to tug him back under.

“you should be. you’re scary,” you say while his thumb catches one of the stray tears on your cheek.

he snorts. “i’m about as scary as a kitten.”

“i dunno. i think our friend would beg to differ.” you lean into him and squeeze his arm before you force yourself to pull away– you like to exude some semblance of professionalism at work. even if the thing you want to do is drag your husband to the on-call room and ravage him for defending your honor.

“yeah, well. guess i reserve it for special circumstances.” he crosses his broad arms over his chest and looks you, up and down. they land on your face and soften. “i love you, kid.” the way he calls you kid, versus alex, makes your chest squeeze. an old habit from your residency, a reminder of where you were and how far you've come now.

the fondness that you feel for him never gets smaller. the longer you've been with him, from that time where you were his resident, smoking weed on his living room floor and wondering if there was a world where this could all work... the thing that always remained true and steady was how much you liked jack. right down to his bones, you liked him.

how can you capture that all in a sentence?

you don't know. but you settle on, "i love you," emphasis on the most important word there is.

[simswoon]

Tomarang!!

previous // next // beginning

Update on Lenny's goals

Children: At least 2 ✓

Career: Entertainer Career – Musician Branch

Aspiration: Serial Romantic (3/4)

Skills to Max: Piano, Singing, Guitar, Violin ✓

Visit 2/3 different worlds.

Experience a self-discovery moment and lose the Noncommittal trait.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

little comforts with the lads li’s

(a self-indulgent imagining of them with a neurodivergent MC)

✨ xavier & overstimulation

(not the sex kind, sorry. but probably that too) Xavier completely understands when you get overwhelmed by existing. he gets the same feeling sometimes. you develop a code for it eventually, a combination of eye contact and eyebrow-raising that signals to the other person that you need out, whether from a Hunter’s Association party or a grocery store with way too many people. back at home, you’ve created a haven together- eye masks and soft blankets for him, headphones and fidgets for you, whatever makes you feel peaceful and calmed. the ceiling lamp is absolutely not allowed- Xavier drapes the walls with soft spheres of light or swirls a firefly-glow of sparks along the bed in a warm canopy.

🎨 rafayel & hyperfixations/jumping hobbies

you might as well consider collecting hobbies a hobby in itself. crochet needles and yarn, jigsaw puzzles, a wood burning setup, a console and video games- whatever brings you joy, Rafayel is enthusiastically behind it. he doesn’t judge you for wanting to learn a new art style out of the blue- he’ll sign up for a pottery class with you and buy you pounds of clay. he loves your passion and enthusiasm and matches it with his own. he loves being creative with you, in whatever form it happens to take that day. plus, with the amount he spends on paint and canvas, he’s not about to judge you for getting boxes of new supplies for something. he’s hyping you up every time! even if it isn’t an interest he shares, he’s happy you’re happy.

🩺 zayne & health anxiety/ocd

no matter how many times you ask for it, Zayne is happy to give you reassurance. yes, that chicken was cooked all the way. you have a weird flutter in your chest? of course he'll listen to your heart. he listens to every symptom, every worry with unfailing patience. after all, he wants to be your protector, your safest place- this is just one way to be that for you. he never makes you feel irrational for your fears, just steadily helps you face them each and every time. he doesn't judge your compulsions, but he offers his expertise whenever you ask- he lets you take your temperature ten times a day but also explains the normal range and when to actually worry.

💭 sylus & overthinking

okay hear me out, this goes both ways: he helps ground you when you’re overthinking negatively but also supports you when you’re being enthusiastic about literally anything. he’s all in- if you have a favorite tv show he’s watching every episode and reading every analysis of it so you can discuss. he’s fully invested in your office drama, your gossip, your made-up stories about the bird family that lives outside your apartment window. but he also soothes you when you spiral into worry or fear. he happily goes through what-if scenarios with you, most of them ending in him spectacularly defeating anything that could ever threaten you. he makes it clear over and over again that you’re completely safe with him, physically and emotionally.

❤️‍🩹 caleb & insecurity

his life mission to make you feel adored. he makes a point of worshipping every part of you, especially anything you consider a "flaw". nothing is too much or too little- you're perfect exactly as you are. if he overhears you complaining about your thick thighs on a call with Tara, he's going to be buried in them later that night, pressing kisses to every inch. he loves working out and training with you. if you want to get healthier he's gladly cooking fresh ingredients into nutritious meals and helping you build up a fun fitness routine- but if there's even a hint of it being because you don't like the way you look in the mirror? he's going to benchpress twice your body weight in front of you just to prove he can. or better yet, he flings you over his shoulder easily and brings you to the bedroom to "work on your confidence".

[genaleah]

Unfortunately, I'm still gonna have to do the dishes despite the earthquakes. The earthquake can happen any time, but regardless: I'll need a clean plate to eat off of tomorrow.

locking in won't save you. self-discipline won't save you. you're trying to tidy up a house built on a fault line whose shifting is beyond your control. you know this already.

[luffydotcom]

worst fears

synopsis: one piece characters worst fears in a relationship feat: straw hats (luffy, zoro, nami, usopp, sanji, robin) + ace and law warnings: angst + slight spoiler for ace's past notes: i honestly was a bit stuck for law's part so bear with me PLEASE also yeah not me finally posting things after ages sorry pookies

luffy

losing you.

LUFFY'S worst fear is that when worst comes to worst, he won't be able save you when you need him the most.

although he always tries to protect you, LUFFY has experienced losing loved ones before because he wasn't strong enough, and he never wants it to happen again. he loves everyone in his life so much, especially you, and never wants to lose them. but what if one day he slips up and the cost is losing you forever?

zoro

not being able to protect you.

ZORO'S unwavering loyalty to those he cares about means that he has made it his sworn mission to protect them at all times. in fact, that's practically his main role in the crew - to protect everyone from danger, so he believes he has to always do this right.

he works hard to protect those he cares about, and would never be able to forgive himself if he let something happen to you or was too late to protect you from danger.

he can't predict the future and he can't guarantee your safety at all times, and he hates it. he knows how unpredictable life is and that anything could happen at any moment, which makes him scared of what could happen to you.

nami

being powerless when you need her the most.

NAMI knows what it's like to have no one there to save you or protect you when you're in pain, suffering or in danger. thankfully, she found her way out thanks to her friends, but what if she can't help you?

when it comes to someone she cares about, she can't just rest easy when they need help because she hates seeing those she loves in pain. despite what people think, she would be ready to go above and beyond for someone she loves. she wants to do whatever she can as soon as she can to help you, and she fears that something could happen and make this impossible for her to do.

usopp

being replaced by somebody else.

USOPP wants to believe that he's just the guy you need, but he can't ignore his insecurities that tell him that he's useless and weak all the time. and this feeds into his biggest fear when being with you.

while you don't have an issue with his flaws, to him, his 'negative' qualities and weaknesses mean that he is easy to abandon. he feels like you being with him is just holding yourself back from something - or someone - better.

his worst fear is that you'll have had enough of the 'weak' parts of him, and that one day, you'll get tired of him and just replace him with someone else.

sanji

being a burden to you.

SANJI doesn't just love you - he practically worships your entire being and sees you as flawless and capable of no wrong. he sees you as someone who deserves only the best and nothing less. in comparison, he sees himself as someone who deserves basically nothing.

although you offer warm smiles in his direction and constantly assure him how much you care about him, he can't possibly understand how you could ever love a 'failure' like him.

he hates himself for thinking it, but he sometimes is afraid that your feelings are just fake or out of pity for someone like him. his biggest, worst fear is that he's just a burden to you and someone you're wasting your time on - and that and one day, you'll let him know it by just leaving him for good.

robin

you giving up on her.

ROBIN'S worst fear, in a way, is a little similar to sanji's. she doesn't want to be a burden to you because she can't forget how she was treated her whole life. people around her treated her like a nuisance and a monster just for her existence and where she came from, making her feel like she had nowhere to belong.

it's something she's been trying to unlearn ever since joining the crew, and she knows it's not very likely, but her worst fear is that you won't see her as someone worth fighting for, protecting, or loving anymore. instead, you too will see her as someone who doesn’t belong anywhere.

she's afraid that you'll see her just as how everyone has in her past - a devil whose existence only brings trouble to everyone.

ace

you stop loving him.

ACE has always felt like love is something that needs to be earned, especially for him. sometimes, he can't even believe how lucky he is to have someone like you - someone who doesn't care about the blood that flows in his veins because you know that doesn't matter to who he is.

however, his biggest fear is what happens if that love diminishes for good. he's afraid you'll start to be remember who he exactly is - the son of the world's biggest criminal, the pirate king himself. he's scared that you'll find him a nuisance to be associated with, and stop loving him altogether because of it.

law

disappointing you.

LAW knows that he isn't very openly affectionate and that he struggles to show his his feelings at times, making him appear closed-off and cold to others. although he does know that he really and truly loves you - his worst fear is disappointing you in the relationship because you may feel like he doesn't.

he knows what a healthy and loving relationship is supposed to look like and how other people show love, but he's afraid that he'll fail you by not being able to give you that. he hates the thought of letting you down when you deserve so much better than he is.

[rcmclachlan]

The Least Vulnerable Spot 8x16 spec fic

In which I ask the ultimate questions: under what circumstances would Tommy not attend the memorial procession for Bobby? Also, how silly can I make this?

+

Buck has never considered himself to be that guy, but when a man hands you the viral antidote he stole for you, kisses you on a rooftop backlit by the sunset while a couple of Sikorsky UH-60s hover threateningly, and whispers "Here's looking at you, kid" before ushering you through the rooftop door so you can save your family while a bunch of stone-faced Army guys advance, you tend to have an expectation or two. Like, that he'll pick up his fucking phone when you call. 

He's left so many voicemails and sent so many texts to Tommy's phone over the last four days that he's pretty sure Verizon has his account flagged, but he thinks Petrea, his account rep, would understand if he explained that his ex-but-maybe-not-ex-boyfriend flew in like a superhero and then ghosted him when Buck needed him the most. She might even dig up a Jilted Before Your Father Figure's Funeral discount for his troubles. 

It's been a week since they held the procession for Bobby, and not even Buck showing up at Tommy's house the night before and pounding on the door for an hour while shouting that he was yellow-bellied (partly true), a traitor to the 118 name (mostly true), and a lousy lay (bold-faced lie) could make the little coward show his face. 

So he's done. He is finished with Tommy Kinard and his massive amounts of baggage that would make even Briggs & Riley close up shop, and he's proving it by leaving one final voicemail that isn't influenced by his sadness over Bobby's death, the stress of the last couple of weeks, or by how much Tommy's abandonment has hurt him. He's going to be a rational adult about this. He's going to be the bigger person.

".... This is all to say that I hope you have an amazing life, Tommy," he says into his phone speaker. "I hope it's filled with love and support, and it's meaningful and fulfills your soul. And I hope you fall in love with a beautiful, kind man who treats you right, and I hope you get married and stay together for fifty blissful years, and then I hope you wake up from the coma to realize it was all a dream and you're all alone, because apparently that's what you really want! And I know you were quoting a movie on the rooftop, and you know what? I'm not going to even look up which movie it was! Look at me, kid, or whatever it was you said!"

Buck misses the days when he could snap his phone shut to hang up, because stabbing end call twenty times until his finger actually taps the button just doesn't give him the same kind of satisfaction. 

Panting for a moment, he pushes all his anger and pain into a little lockbox in the back of his mind, shuts the lid, and takes a breath. Then he pockets his phone and looks up to find everyone in the station frozen, staring at him like he just performed a magic trick or saw a bug on the wall and didn't identify it out loud.

"What?!" he snaps at all of their slack-jawed faces. "Never seen a rational adult before?"

Out of nowhere, a hand lands on his shoulder like a jump scare, and he startles back so hard he almost throws an elbow into Acting Captain Henrietta Wilson's wrinkled nose.

"Hey, Buckaroo," Hen coos. The expression on her face would be more at home on someone who's been tasked with single handedly cleaning up a nuclear meltdown. "Maybe we should put our phones in our lockers so we're not distracted by our very confusing situationships. At least until lunch time when I can escape to Rosetti's to get a break from it."

Buck doesn't whine and he definitely doesn't stamp his feet. "Yeah, but what if he calls?" 

"You know, he probably would just to tell you the quote is actually Here's looking at you, kid," Hen admits. 

"I don't get it. Who's looking at me?" Buck mutters, giving his phone the stink eye before looking up. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were doing paperwork."

Hen shrugs with her entire face. "Well, I was, but when you started wailing I thought another raccoon got caught in the vent fan again, so."

For someone who got the job under the worst set of circumstances imaginable, she looks completely at home in the role, the way she always does. Buck's trying like hell to be happy for her, and he is, deep deep deep down, but he'll be the first to admit he hasn't been handling it well. Yesterday she'd brought in a tiny potted succulent and put it in the upper left corner of what was now her desk where a framed photo of Athena, May, and Harry once sat, and Buck accidentally knocked it onto the floor. And accidentally stepped on it. Twice. Accidentally.

She'd stared at him until he started to sweat, then said flatly, "You're buying me two more."

"Yep," he'd agreed. There's now a bigger succulent on the desk and a bushy lemon lime maranta on the windowsill. 

Whatever she sees on his face makes her roll her eyes, but she puts her hand on his shoulder again and says, "Okay. You get thirty seconds. Lay it on me."

Buck blinks. "Really?"

"Twenty-nine now," Hen says.

Damn, that's generous. Eddie only gave him ten before he tapped out. 

Squaring his shoulders, Buck lets it all come tumbling out: "I thought this meant something! He threw in with us again and kissed me on the roof and said whatever he said and it was supposed to mean something! You don't just bail after that! He was supposed to be here! He was supposed to support me at the funeral! He was supposed to be there for me at the procession and then fuck the sadness out of me afterward! I had a plug in and everything!"

"Time's up," Hen breaks in, a look of abject horror on her face. 

Buck throws his hands up. "That had to only be twenty seconds at most."

Hen's eyes dart down to his hips, then back up to his face. Her glasses magnify them, so they look bigger and wider than usual. She looks like one of those Precious Moments figurines his mom used to collect. "You had a—Buck, that procession went for a full mile."

"Believe me," Buck grumbles, shifting to try and escape the chafed ache that refuses to go away. "I'm well aware. Serves me right for going with the biggest one I own, but, like, I thought Tommy was gonna—"

"Aaaand we're done." Hen executes a perfect about-face and marches in the direction of the admin offices. 

Buck calls after her, "Bobby would've heard me out!"

"Bobby would've jammed pencils in his ears!" Hen shouts over her shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm about to do!"

This is exactly what he means when he tells Dr. Copeland that no one ever listens to him. 

He's about to go see if he can corner Chimney somewhere with limited escape routes when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. His heart gets caught up in a dizzying storm of excitement, dread, and grim satisfaction, because he knew Tommy wouldn't be able to deal with the idea of Buck not looking the quote up.

But when he takes his phone out of his pocket, the incoming call isn't from Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️, but Lucy Donato.

Sighing, he takes the call. "Uh, h-hey Lucy—"

She cuts him off immediately with a curt, "Look, don't think I'm not grateful or anything. We all are. Not being forced to listen to sad James Ingram songs day in and day out has been wonderful, but it's been two weeks already and we need our lead pilot back."

"I—what? Lucy, I hate to tell you, but—"

"Tell me precisely zero details about how dick drunk you are, Buckley," Lucy says flatly. "Just tell me when you're letting him go. Cap's getting antsy and Baxter's been on call for so long that his wife is ready to kill him and turn his body into mulch."

Buck stares at Engine 2 until it blurs. "You... are talking about Tommy, right?"

"No, I'm talking about the other dipshit I work with who committed domestic terrorism because your asshole is a Disneyland attraction." Buck makes a face but doesn't correct her. Tommy once likened sex with Buck to riding Big Thunder Mountain for the first time. "He's missed like four shifts. Any more and Cap is gonna have to, like, make some calls. Where the fuck's our pilot, Buckley?"

"He hasn't been in at all?" He echoes faintly, a sinkhole opening in his gut. 

Lucy makes a sound of disgust. "Frankly, I can't believe they dropped your charges. You're way too dangerous to be allowed among the general populace."

The Army colonel who swanned into Chim's hospital room like he expected them to scatter like roaches had taken one look at all of them and scoffed. "Every fiber of my being hates what I'm about to say, but I can't handle another phone call from Sergeant Grant, so: on behalf of the United States government, we're dropping all federal charges for everyone in this room. If I see any of you ever again, I will throw you into a hole so deep it'll make the Kola Borehole look like something a kid dug at the beach."

Except not everyone was in the hospital room that day.

Buck squeezes his eyes shut. "Hey, so I need to call you back."

"Wait, Dana wants to talk to you."

With a yelp of pure terror, Buck stabs his phone until the call ends, then immediately calls Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️. It goes right to voicemail, like it's been doing, and now Buck is pretty sure he knows why.

"Heeeeeeeey," he says through a grimace. "So, uh, I need you to ignore all the other voicemails and texts I sent you. Um, it's entirely possible the reason you haven't been picking up my calls might be, uh, sort of my fault, but just think: someday when we've been married for fifty years, we'll probably still be laughing about this whole thing."

Inbox full, the automated voice cheerfully tells him.

Cringing, he calls Athena.

+

Buck has never actually seen a federal prison—Jamestown was a regular prison, and he didn't have enough time to stop and take it all in—so he's not sure what to expect, but when they fly over Victorville Medium-Security Federal Correctional Institute, he's surprised to see it looks more like an army base than anything. 

The pilot who picked him, Athena, and LAFD union lawyer Bernadette Kaine up from Harbor One—and that had sucked, because the entire Harbor crew was standing on the tarmac giving him the evil eye as he boarded, and while Dana didn't physically drag her thumb across her throat he could see the same sentiment in her blank expression—didn't actually introduce himself, but his name was embroidered on the arm of his flight suit. 

"Your last name is 'Goodenough'?" Buck had asked, grinning. "'Pilot Goodenough'? Hopefully your flying is a lot better than your name suggests!"

Pilot Goodenough stared stone-faced out the windshield and said, "We might hit turbulence during the flight."

And they did, but oddly only whenever Buck unbuckled his belt. The last time Buck went to get up, Athena threatened to shoot him.

When they land, Colonel Whatshisname is there to greet them, and he looks both exhausted and furious to see him and Athena again. 

"Sergeant Grant," the colonel acknowledges through gritted teeth, ignoring Buck entirely. "It's such a pleasure to see you again."  

Athena simply crosses her arms and stares him down, which is impressive to watch, considering the guy's like 6'7". He's shriveling under her scrutiny before Buck's very eyes. 

"Colonel, it appears you forgot something," Athena says, lightly and terrifyingly.

"Someone," Buck interjects, with nowhere near the same impact.

Colonel Whatshisname sighs, looks heavenward at the departing helicopter as though he'd like nothing more than to flag Pilot Goodenough back down to take him away, then beckons them all inside.

When they get to whoever's office the colonel commandeered, Buck is almost completely distracted from why they're there by the sheer amount of rubber ducks that clutter up every flat surface in the room. No two are the same. There's even a little viking duck, complete with a mace. 

"Can I—" Buck starts slowly, inching his hand toward a duck that looks like a firefighter.

Colonel Whatshisname sits down at the desk, hard. "No."

"That's fair."

"Colonel Spade," Bernadette begins, opening her worryingly bulging briefcase. "I'd like to begin by thanking you for your ti—"

"Colonel, you know why we're here," Athena cuts in, taking the seat on the other side of the colonel's desk. She has to clear a path through all the ducks lined up at the edge so she can rest her clasped hands there. "When the charges were dropped for the members of the 118 involved in the incident, LAFD pilot Thomas Kinard's charges should have been included."

At that, Buck moves to stand menacingly at her shoulder like an attack dog, although the colonel doesn't look all that impressed at the display. If anything, he gets a look on his face like he'd just swallowed an assassin bug. Specifically a North American wheel bug. 

"Normally, I would agree with you, but Thomas Kinard abused his military rank and previous clearance to gain access to a secure government building, steal proprietary assets from a lab that could have caused great harm to the population of Los Angeles, and physically assaulted personnel on his way out," Colonel Spade snaps at her. "There was no way we were letting any of that go."

"Assaulted?" Athena lifts a brow. 

"That's awful," Buck rasps, pressing his thighs together. "Like, how many people and what did he do to them? Like, were there concussions? Broken bones? You can go into detail, I'm not squeamish."

The thought of Tommy fighting his way to get to Buck is so disgustingly hot that he might pop a woody in front of Athena, their lawyer lady, a visibly upset military man, and three thousand ducks. Still not the worst place he's ever been turned on.

"Without Kinard, we never would've gotten the antidote in time to save all those people," Athena says, and yanks her chair forward a little, away from Buck. "The people you deemed collateral damage in the fallout of the release of the CCHF virus."

"No one could have predicted Dr. Blake would go rogue," Colonel Spade says easily, with hate in his eyes. "This is hardly the fault of the—"

Suddenly, Bernadette sits up, and it feels like someone's put a spotlight on her. Buck kind of expects her to break into song or something, but what happens is actually so much better.

"The day Dr. Blake stole the virus, her employment was terminated, effective immediately, and yet security didn't walk her out of the building, which goes against all federal mandated safety protocols," Bernadette says, all smiles, practically glowing. "The lab—property of the U.S. government, if I remember correctly—was entirely unsupervised, which gave Dr. Blake the unfettered opportunity to tamper with the virus, speeding up its incubation period without authorization. Or, perhaps she did have authorization and the government failed to disclose this. Tell me, what else is going on under our noses that the government isn't telling us?"

"Try to disappear the brave people who risk their lives to do the right thing, apparently," Athena answers pointedly. 

"I thought you were a union lawyer," Colonel Spade says through a visibly clenched jaw. "What do you know about federal pharmaceutical law?"

Bernadette's smile goes sharp. "I dabble."

Colonel Spade looks, for lack of a better word, murderous. He's probably one smarmy comment from grabbing the nearest rubber duck and bludgeoning Bernadette to death with it.

But Buck has never been able to help himself. "Is this a bad time to mention my ex-girlfriend is an investigative reporter?"

Athena drops her head into her hand. "Buck."

"I'm just saying!" He crosses his arms, trying to puff himself up the way some animals do when they're faced with a predator. "It sure would be a shame if an anonymous tip about all this landed in her lap."

Colonel Spade squints at him. "Are you threatening me, Firefighter Buckley?"

"You're trying to bury Tommy to save your own ass," Buck growls. "Yes, I'm threatening you."

Wordlessly, Bernadette reaches into her briefcase, which looks like it's seriously ready to bust open at the seams, and slides over a packet of paper to Colonel Spade. The colonel snatches it up and starts reading, and the longer he does, the paler he gets.

Finally, he lowers the packet and stabs Bernadette with his eyes. "Where did you get this?"

"I play mahjong with your ex-wife every Sunday," Bernadette says, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "She sends her regards. Well, she actually sent the tip of her blackmail iceberg. How is your new wife, by the way? She graduate from college yet?"

Eyes wide, Buck looks at the colonel, who's got the swallowing wheel bugs look on his face again.

After the most awkward ten seconds that Buck's had to endure since Eddie crashed his and Tommy's pizza date, the colonel folds like a bad row of mahjong tiles.

"Fine," he says with a sigh, then glares at Bernadette. "And no, she's a junior."

Buck picks up a rubber duck with sharp teeth like a vampire. "Gross."

+

The colonel washes his hands of them by pushing them onto two enormous guards named Weekes and Kluger, who are basically human trees. 

When Kluger gets his orders to take them to cell 58, he droops like a wilting plant. "Hey, you're not here to, like, take Kinard to Gitmo, right? It's just—he's really cool. He's got the wildest stories."

"Dude figured out what was wrong with my car just from listening to a video on my phone." Weekes grins, then leans in to whisper conspiratorially to Buck, "it was the alternator."

"I offered to introduce him to my sister," Kluger says as they board the elevator, and he's either oblivious to Buck's glare searing a hole in his head or is just flat-out ignoring it, because he continues blithely, "but he said he doesn't like girls. Which is cool. I'm down with the rainbow, you know? So I told him about my cousin, Martin."

Buck makes a politely interested noise, but it mostly sounds like he's biting straight through his tongue. Athena elbows him hard enough to bruise his spleen.

"And what did he have to say about Martin?" Buck asks. Meanwhile, every bone in his body is vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear.

Kluger doesn't seem to be aware that the head is going to burst into flames any second now. "He said he was flattered and that Martin was hot, but he's already got his heart pinned on someone on the outside."

Buck relaxes with a pleased smile.

"Yeah, except whoever it is left him in here to rot," Weekes adds.

"T-That's unnecessary and completely untrue," Buck lies, trying to sink into the floor so he won't drown in shame right in front of them. 

Thankfully, the elevator comes to a stop at the 5th floor, and Buck pushes his way out to gulp some fresh air. 

He's not sure if being on the 5th floor is a good or bad thing. Tommy was charged with domestic terrorism; what if this is the domestic terrorism floor? What if he's neighbors with neo-nazis? What if he'd been jumped by a faction in the shower and took a beating and has spent the last few days pissing blood and breathing through broken ribs and cursing the day he ever picked up Chimney's call about needing a pilot for an unauthorized rescue? 

What if he regrets ever meeting Buck?

But before Buck can ask Kluger for a bucket to throw up in, they come to a stop in front of a cell marked with the number 58, and Buck forces himself to look inside.

Apparently the question Buck should've been asking was what if Tommy's lying on his bed playing paddle ball while he mouths along to whatever 80s hip-hop song is playing on a little radio? Because that's exactly what Tommy's doing.

"I gave him the radio," Weekes says proudly, reaching out to knock on the glass door. Tommy looks up without pausing his game. The ball keeps thwacking against the wood.

"He's so good at that," Kluger says, starry-eyed. "He beat Officer Amino last week and that guy's won tournaments."

"Is it Girl Scout cookie season already?" Tommy asks cheerfully, then effortlessly twists the paddle so the cord wraps around it. He tucks the ball in. "Sorry, I don't have my wallet on me."

Buck shoves Kluger aside to practically press his nose to the glass. "We take IOUs."

As soon as he sees Buck, Tommy brightens, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, stretching with a groan, and then walks over to the door. Even in the bland blue jumpsuit, he's stupid hot. Helplessly, Buck puts his palm against the glass.

"Nice of you to stop by," Tommy says with a teasing lilt, pressing his own palm to Buck's, and Buck swears he can feel the heat of it through the pane. 

"I was in the neighborhood," Buck teases back. "Figured I'd pop in."

"I won't lie, I've been dreaming about you showing up for a conjugal visit." Tommy looks away from Buck's face to squint at everyone else. "Although you guys weren't there."

At that, Athena cracks a smile and says in an odd voice, almost twangy, "You stupid mullet head, he beat you with nothin'."

Tommy perks up and doesn't miss a bit, drawling, "Yeah, well, sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand."

Before Buck can ask what the hell they're talking about, someone shoves him aside with surprising strength. He's a little surprised to see it's Bernadette, who he kind of forgot about, but she's clearly the only one who remembers why they're here because she raps on the glass and says, "Mr. Kinard, my name is Bernadette Kaine and I'm here to take you home."

"We're here to take you home," Buck amends. 

Tommy looks at Bernadette for a long moment, head tilting like a puppy hearing a noise for the first time and gaze narrowed, and then snaps his fingers. "Hey, I know you! I sent my paperwork to you the last time I stole a helicopter."

Sighing, Bernadette nods. "If you do it a third time, I get a free sundae."

"What do I get?" Tommy asks.

"Permanent incarceration and possibly the death penalty."

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Tommy mulls that one over, then gives a decisive nod. "Sounds about right."

+

The helicopter ride home is spent mostly with Buck plastered to Tommy's side while he fills him in on everything he missed. Tommy's devastated to hear about Bobby. He offers Athena his condolences over the open mic, then curls his hand around his headset speaker to murmur apologies into Buck's ear. 

"I wish I'd been there for you," Tommy says, and the words ease some kinked cable inside Buck he hadn't known was there. "I'm sorry I wasn't."

"I'm sorry I forgot there were consequences to your actions and left you to the mercy of the Army," Buck says, pressing his forehead to the jut of Tommy's jaw. "I just assumed everything was taken care of, and I… kind of thought you were ghosting me."

At that, Tommy snorts, wrapping an arm around Buck to hold him impossibly closer. "Evan, come on. You don't kiss a man like that and quote Humphrey Bogart and then ghost him. I'm an asshole and a coward, but I'm not a monster."

Buck winces. "Uh, yeah, when you have a second, can I see your phone?"

"What for?"

"It's better if you don't know," Buck says. "Completely unrelated, but you don't have a code for your voicemail, do you, and if so, can I have it?"

Tommy snickers and presses a kiss to Buck's temple. "How bad did it get?"

"Well, I taught Chim the word 'motherfuckface', so you tell me," Buck admits, cracking a grin when Tommy laughs out loud, but he has a hell of a time trying to keep it up. Finally, he gives up the ghost and tucks his face against Tommy's, eyes prickling hot with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I should've known. I should've known. Never in a million years would you have bailed on the funeral. It should've been my first clue that something was wrong."

Tommy snugs him in close and says quietly, barely audible over the rotors, "To quote an incredible man who drives me up the wall: 'it seems there's a lot we don't know about each other.' I'm glad you know I wouldn't have left you in the lurch like that, but there's a lot more… there's a lot more about me that you should know. That I… well, not exactly want you to know, but that I will tell you. Willingly. Well, not exactly willingly, but—"

"Y-Yeah?" Sniffling a little, Buck pulls away just enough to be able to look up at him. "What are you doing Saturday?"

It wins him a smile. "Vivisecting myself for you, apparently. And maybe burgers afterwards?"

Grinning, Buck snuggles shamelessly back in. "Actually, I wanted to make Bobby's famous lasagna for you. I think I've finally nailed it down. Then you can nail me down."

But before Tommy can respond, Athena breaks in over the line and takes a baseball bat to the moment. "Change the subject. Now."

Swallowing hard, Buck nods and pastes on a smile that doesn't scream 'I'm chubbed up a little in my jeans and I'm trying not to make it everyone's problem.' He coughs a little. "So, uh, who's Humphrey Bogart? Does he have a podcast or something?"

Tommy turns to Athena. "Actually, thanks, but no thanks. Take me back to prison."

[h1biscusgal]

The long awaited method : HMM for self hypnosis towards the void, enter under 2min.

WARNING : this method is quite powerful, it's not a method on directly entering the void, but it's a method I've perfected to be able to induce the void INSTANTLY under 5 minutes, given by on how to hypnotize yourself.

Please make sure you're ready for this, and you have a clear mind for this, self hypnosis is extremely powerful and if done rightly? It helps immensely, the chances after this to enter the void is 90%, you know what the 10% is for, belief and trust in this method.

Let's start.

Introduction:

This method is something I've stumbled on long before, and I just remembered how it may actually help those with a limit in their mind that does not let them enter the void, first of all, props to the person who make this trance inducing method which is using the magic magnet fingers, and since I'm pairing it with the void, I'll call it Hibiscus's Mind Magnet, or just HMM for short.

This method requires you to sit down somewhere quiet, somewhere with limit sound, does not matter if there's light or not, simply sit somewhere comfortably and I urge you to do a small mini meditation before hand if your mind is crowded, best time to do so is when you wake up.

The steps:

Sit comfortably. (Has to sit)

If having crowded thoughts, meditate for a clearer mind.

Set your suggestion : a suggestion is something you want to stick deep into your subconscious, aka "I always enter the void under 2 minutes."

You can use any other suggestions, this is just for the void I'm explaining now, now that your mind is calm, everything is ready, simply begin by clasping your fingers in front of yourself together and leaving the two index fingers to stick above.

Now, look and focus at the space between those two fingers, okay? Now begin to imagine that ok either sides of your palm, there's two big magnets.

Stare at the space between the fingers, in a moments time when you let go, you see your fingers actually getting pulled subconsciously together like magnets, and eventually you'll feel this sudden pull of your own face towards it, at this point, continue to stare at it UNTIL your indexes hit each other.

Now you begin to realize even your eyelids are tired and droopy, that's the perfect state, now gently lower your hand in your lap and close your eyes, let the fatigue wash over you, you'll feel lightheaded and dizzy, this, is the perfect state called the Trance state.

Begin by saying your suggestion slowly, simply affirming deeply by saying "I always enter the void under 2 minutes." And only use one suggestion please.

When you feel ready, and you feel done, that's when you're done with this trance state, to get out, begin by forcing yourself to focus things around you, the blanket underneath you perhaps, the hands in your lap, and slowly open your eyes again.

Done, you have just hypnotized yourself, and remember, results can show in just one session, but if you're doubtful, it will take more than one session, do this before attempting for the void and simply go on with ANY method of the void, you'll succeed.

Good luck ml! I hope I made myself clear, and please remember I won't be online here for a couple of days as I have been too much on here and it's affecting my studying, either way, good luck and whatever questions you have I'll answer later, happy void!

Edit// for those who don't understand the hand part and how to clasp it:

It's like this

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Another Clone Danny x batfam au, Danny was also full dead before he's shoved into a clone body, but it's not really relevant in this part.

[Pt2: here]

Danny isn't a hundred percent sure how he got here. Last thing he remembered was running away from the GIW and his parents. They got a lucky shot on him, and he was losing ectoplasum fast. He's pretty sure he was about to fully End. He remembers being mildly amused over his parents' inventions killing him twice, before it all goes dark.

He woke up as a baby. A clone baby by the looks of his environment, an underground lab(?). His creator(?) is staring at him as if he's a miracle, and given the fancy sci-fi screen thingy (a tablet? Or ipad? He's not sure how he knows these terms) in front of the cloning tank say "attempt 99", he probably is this guy's miracle.

Danny doesn't see anyone else around, and this guy, a teenager about Jazz's age (?), seems happy on a personal level to see Danny wiggling in the tank. So it's not likely he was forced to do this. Whatever this is..

"I did it...? Holy shit! I did it!" The teen cheers before freezing, "I'm a parent now.. I did not think this through... welp, I'm a parent now."

The guy checks his vitals before draining the tank. Danny is handled as if he's the most precious, yet breakable thing in the world to this kid.

"Hello, I'm Tim, your dad, I guess." The kid, Tim, introduces himself, and Danny giggles at him because if Danny was a normal baby, he'd have no idea what he was saying. "You're the clone of my dead best friend. He was half kryptonian. I promise to do my best to help you learn your powers and culture. I'll break into Clark's ice fortress if I have to to do it."

Danny has no idea what any of that means, but Tim seems determined, so Danny isn't too worried. He's more worried about the power thing. Are they going to be completely different from his old ones? Does he still have access to his ghost powers?

His little baby body can't handle his big emotions, and he starts crying. Tim panics, checking for mess, before realizing he doesn't have baby supplies. He clearly didn't think his cloning attempt would work with how unprepared he is. And that's valid if Danny really is his 99th attempt.

Tim bundles Danny up and rushes them to the nearest store that has baby supplies. Danny is clothed and fed promptly and given a wolf plushy. Danny isn't sure about the wolf thing, but the stuffie does sooth his baby instincts, so he rolls with it.

"Alright, baby. I... I didn't think of a name for you. I originally was trying to make a clone closer to Kon's age and figured they could name themselves, like Kon did." Tim sighs, slightly rocking Danny in his arms. "Man, I must seem insane talking to a baby. A baby I made because I couldn't deal with one more person in my life being dead or gone."

Danny notes the interesting wording.

"Okay. Can you understand me at all? I forgot to adjust the knowledge download to a year old's level, but that doesn't mean your baby brain absorbed any of the info."

Ooooh, that explains why he knows things that didn't exist where he's from.

Danny blows spit bubbles and attempts to nod. It's a bit hard, his baby muscles not developed enough for the action. Tim understands, though.

"Okay, okay." Tim looking both scared and relieved. "How about you pat me once for yes and twice for no? At least for now. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Danny lightly smacks a hand to Tim's face. They both giggle over it.

"Alright, so I'm going to list off names, and you can tell me yes or no, okay?" One pat. "Okay, let's see."

Danny wonders if he can get a new name that can still let him have Danny as a nickname.

"Jasper" No

"Darin" No

"Dugu" No??

"Presh?" No! Tim? Where are you getting these names??

"Ratan" No

"Cicil" No

"Matthew" No

"Theo?" No

"Alihan" No

"Atiya" Nope

"Tesher" No

"Senai" No

"Uuum... Habwat?" No

"Geoffrey" No

"Amari?" Nope

"Jordan" ... huh, technically could get Danny from that, but still. No.

"Riley?" No

"Drew?" Nope

"Nova" Oooo so tempting, but no

"Esteban" Nope

"Izar" No

"Aedan?" You know what, good enough. That's Danny's new name.

Tim looks misty eyed when Danny finally agrees to a name.

"Alright, welcome to the world, Aedan Drake." Danny blows bubbles at him. "We'll visit adding Kent and getting you a proper kryptonian name when you can actually speak and understand what those names mean. Kon's human name was Conner Kent, and his kryptonian name was Kon-El. It translates to abomination of the house of El. He was a clone of Kal-El and wasn't treated well for it. I won't let the Els treat you as they treated him."

Tim looks pissed on his friend's behalf and cradles Danny protectively.

"The Els don't matter anyways. You will always be a Drake. And Drakes protect what they claim with viciousness." He kisses Danny's forehead. He then moves to the fanciest computer Danny has ever seen, and with the hand not supporting Danny's body, starts designing what appears to be a bulletproof and stabproof baby carrier. "I should have waited til after I finish hunting for clues to get Bruce, he's my adoptive father, out of the timestream. My siblings think I'm crazy, which creating a clone isn't helping my case over, but I know he's alive. I found evidence, just not enough to prove it to them."

Danny starts nodding off. Tim's ramblings are soothing and his hold gentle, Danny's tiny baby body doesn't stand a chance at staying awake. He's sad he's missing out on all the dad lore because of it.

Once the carrier is ready, Tim starts going out and taking Danny with him. Danny is actually pretty safe on these outings. The carrier is bulletproof, stabproof, has tinted bulletproof glass so Danny can get sun without people seeing him, it's temperature controlled, well ventilated, and has plenty of cushion. Seriously, Danny is sure the whole thing is like 60 pounds with him in it, but Tim gives zero fucks. He's determined to keep Danny safe.

It's super touching. And Danny swears to one day return the favour. The day is closer than he thinks when a creepy old fucker crawls out of the woodworks. Danny hates him instantly. Tim explaining the creep's relation to Tim's family doesn't change Danny's mind. In fact, it probably makes his opinion on this Ra's Al Gul even worse. And once he sees how that pedo looks at his sweet new dad, he plans to be an absolute menace.

[moonshine-5th-marauder]

Thank you!!!! And definitely will do (but it will for sure be waaay in the future 💀) whenever the time comes should I tag this account or the other one? I got confused when I saw what looked like someone else reply XD

[softaestluv]

Nine Lives

Simon Riley posts an ad for a stray cat he does not want, and you answer.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! Reader

Tags: fluff, short n’ sweet, eventual romance/smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 | ao3 | mlist✎ᝰ.ᐟ

It has to be some form of trauma. A hallucination. A dream. Anything but that stupid fawn-colored cat outside his door.

Scratching. Meowing. Terrorizing him.

He ignores it for as long as he possibly will. Turns the volume of his TV up, washes clothes to drown out the sound, pretends for a while longer that he doesn’t know what’s waiting for him just outside his wooden door. That it doesn’t have a tail and four legs.

But he can’t push it away forever, he’s a man for fucks sake. He doesn’t flee and cower in the face of a threat. A small one at that, curled on his skull mat, waiting for the moment he accepts his fate and opens his damn door. A hostage in his own home.

So, he cracks his door open— just a smidge.

Looks to see if the animal is really there or if the voices, cats, inside his head are playing a cruel joke on him. And sure enough, there it is, licking its paws leisurely as if it fucking belongs there.

A part of him had been hoping he was going crazy, that he was just imagining the high-pitched meow. He could deal with crazy, preferred it actually.

What he couldn’t deal with was the cat outside who seemed convinced he was its home. He’s grateful he hasn’t deleted your contact yet, for multiple reasons now.

It’s easy to ignore the cat, even easier to shut his door in its face, deny it access to his home. Now, as he remembers the events of last week, he thinks he should bring it inside. He’s not entirely fond of the idea, but he’s even less fond of roaming the neighborhood for a second time for the cat.

This is how he finds himself staring at it with a scrutinizing squint and crossed arms on his kitchen counter. It stretches, two front legs reaching out while its hind raises in the air. Simon has to ignore the fact that it’s dirty paws are on his kitchen counter and that it’s fur doesn’t fly in the air as it shimmies itself into a sitting position. He’ll have to bleach the spot and purge the area of any remnants of the pest.

The cat doesn’t seem to sense his aversion because it just stares back, slowly blinking, tail whipping behind it like it’s happy, content. Staring affectionately at him like he hasn’t spent the last several months doing everything in his power to get rid of it.

When you arrive, he begrudgingly takes it into his arms, opens the door to an anxious smile and more fuzzy socks. He dangles it between the two of you with both hands around its torso.

You squeal at the sight, “Churro! What are you doing here, huh? It’s a long distance, pretty lady! It must have been a very dangerous adventure.”

Simon watches you talk to the cat like it can understand you, watches the way your brows pinch, and a small frown forms on your lips in actual concern for its safety. It’s confusing that you would care so deeply for such a thing, but it makes the corners of his lips twitch.

Churro just meows, rubbing her nose and forehead against your cheek. This makes you coo, smiling gently at her, pressing your cheek against hers in turn.

You haven’t even turned your focus to him for a second, no ‘thank you for watching the demon,’ no ‘hi, how are you?’ Just more kisses and sugar-spun words to your precious kitty.

“Was the big scary man mean to you?” You ask, staring at it with beady eyes, “Did he call you the devil again?”

Oh really, cat lady? That’s how it’s going to be? He supposes teasing is better than you being terrified of him.

He scoffs, “Did no such thing.”

You finally look at him, giggling softly as you pull Churro back against your chest, “I’m sure you were nothing but generous to her.”

“I was. Treated the damn thing like royalty.” He grumbles because he was. Carried it into his home even though he wanted to do the complete opposite just so you could have your bloody cat back. And all he has to show for it is you ignoring him for the likes of the cat.

“Well,” You say, nodding your head, “I’m sorry you had to deal with her again. I left her inside before leaving for work, I’m not sure how she managed to get out.”

That was the first time it happened, and of course, it wasn’t the last. Nothing seemed that way with ‘Churro’ because the following week she made her appearance at his house again.

It became a routine. Once a week Churro made her way over to Simon’s like she was visiting him, Simon messaged you— ‘The demon is here.’

Sat Churro on his counter and watched her with pinpointed eyes while he waited. Then you arrived shortly with snuggles and apologies. A new explanation each time; you closed all the windows, checked twice, even locked them! Same with your doors, there was no way for her to get out, but somehow she always managed to escape.

Simon didn’t entirely mind the whole ordeal. Didn’t mind you, quite frankly, he liked opening his door to Tasman slippers, a glimmer in your eyes, and a soft noise of excitement. Pretended as if it was because of seeing him and not the stupid cat in his hands.

Except somewhere along the lines, Simon’s hatred for Churro morphed into something else completely. Ignoring her for as long as he could turned into letting her in after the first scratch. A glowering scowl shifted to furrowed brows. Crossed arms and balled fists became relaxed and loosened at his side. Helicopter supervision simmered into free access, let Churro roam his house while they waited for you.

That wasn’t to say he liked the damn cat because he didn’t. Tolerated her at most. For you, at least.

Irritation still burnt his lungs when he watched you coddle her, when you ignored him as you took her into your arms and rocked her back and forth, when you cuddled her close to your chest and hummed tender words to her instead of him.

Simon wasn’t exactly sure what it was or what it meant. Not when he deprived himself of anything of the sort, thought he had buried it six feet under and sealed it with a cross. But that was the thing, he couldn’t exactly mourn the loss of something when he hadn’t fully committed to severing it of himself completely, held on to it with a thin thread.

It became painfully apparent when he texted you not to come to pick up Churro one day; it was pouring rain, storming, and as much as he didn’t want to have the damn cat overnight, he’d much rather keep you from being stuck in a storm. Still, he opened the door to drenched clothes, shaking fingers, and chattering teeth. His temples pinched, ushering you inside instantly.

Maybe he shouldn’t care, shouldn’t invite you inside, but he does anyways.

“Bird,” He sighed, “Told you to stay home.”

“I know,” You shivered, petting Churro with a wet palm, “But I felt guilty. I know you don’t want Churro here and we’re just inconveniencing you.”

“Not an inconvenience, I don’t mind doing it for you,” He grumbled, “Stay right here. You’re not going back until the storm stops.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, mouth parting slightly, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, leaving you standing there in shock before bringing back dry clothes for you, a black sweater, and gray sweats.

“Here,” He grunted, handing you the clothes, “You can change in my bathroom.”

“Oh no! It’s okay, I can just go home,” You argued, attempting to push the clothes back in his grasp.

Simon levels you with a sharp look, makes you pull the clothes to your chest because he won’t take no as an answer for your safety.

“Okay, yeah,” You nod your head, “Yeah.”

He makes tea on the stove while waiting for you, Churro jumps on the counter in the meantime, with a soft chirp, plopping her way over to rub her body against his forearm.

“Oy, be careful,” He chastises, pushing her away, “Stove’s bloody hot.”

“So you do care about her!”

Simon turns around to find you standing in the doorway of his kitchen. There’s a smug look on your face, but he doesn’t focus on that, can’t focus on anything other than how you look in his clothes. You swim in the material, sweater sleeves hiding your hands completely, sweats pooling at your sock-clad feet. He has to pinch the inside of his cheek to hide his smile at the sight.

It’s cute. Endearing. Makes his teeth ache in his mouth, fingers twitching against the pot on the stove in a strangely possessive way. He doesn’t even care that he’s been caught caring for the damn pest when something warms curls in his chest.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lies.

You laugh, padding your way over to his side, “Oh, whatever. Now I know why she keeps coming over here to see you.”

“And why’s that? I can’t for the life of me figure out why she won’t stop botherin’ me.”

“Maybe she has a crush on you,” You joke, cupping Churro’s face in your palms, “Huh, pretty lady? Do you have a crush on the big scary man?”

He snorts, “Not likely.”

You lean towards him as he hands you a cup of tea, “Maybe she thinks you’re her dad.”

Simon stares at you a little dumbfounded, watches you turn to talk to Churro again, asking if she thinks Simon is her dad. He tries to submerge the overwhelming feeling underwater, drown it, and wash away the insinuation, but it’s almost impossible when you’re adorned in his clothes, oversized fabric hanging off your smaller frame.

Excuses himself by clearing his throat, throwing your soaked clothes in the dryer to distract himself from the drowning.

The storm lasts for a little while, so you sit on his couch with Churro curled in your lap, purring quietly to sleep. Simon tries to scavenge a meal for you, but he doesn’t have much in his fridge, wishes this was planned, so he could cook you something worth eating. You don’t mind, shushing him when he apologizes with an assortment of snacks on a tray, giggling softly at his poor attempt to feed you.

“It’s okay,” You reassure, smiling pleased at him, “I’m not really hungry anyways. Next time we can prepare more.”

Yeah, next time.

When the storm relents, the two of you are preoccupied, finishing a movie you wanted to watch. Some rom-com, he doesn’t entirely know, can’t focus much when he’s sitting next to you on his couch. There’s a measly cushion separating the two of you, sitting on either end of the couch, but it still claws at the back of his mind no matter how much he tries to rationalize it.

In his home. Sat on his couch. Wearing his clothes.

He tries not to be greedy, claim you as his own, but it only gets worse when you pull your feet up, leaning your head against the back of the cushion, snuggling deeper into his couch, and making yourself comfortable. He’s sure you don’t even realize that the storm ended or when you turn towards him and ask if he liked the movie.

He doesn’t mind that you stayed after the rain stopped, doesn’t even mind that Churro made her way to his lap halfway through the rom-com. You don’t point it out either, just flicker your eyes with a knowing smile.

Did he like the movie? He honestly can’t recall a single line.

@lighthousebats @cococococ @sai-int @tessakate @starboykel @imrandomstuffsblog @your-internet-tenshi @glossy01 @orangegreensun @uriahs-burn @ye-olde-trash-panda @akkahelenaa

thank you to my sweet @bunnybeaches for the cat name ‘Churro.’ 🐇🤍

[tbaluver]

S/O With Depression- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader requested by: anonnie ⋆˚꩜｡ genre: comfort a/n: hihi lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i would like to mention that everyone has different types of depression and goes through different things! i wrote the ones i’m familar with and what the anonnie requested! what might be common for me or from the anonnie that requested can be completely different to someone else! if you want to see more then i’ll write a part 2! hopefully this brings some comfort to those that need it enjoy reading! <3 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Will do his best to be a light and source of comfort for you

Xavier would stay close when getting out of bed feels impossible. But if you needed space, he’d respect that, keeping you company from a small distance in bed to remind you that you’re not completely alone. He wouldn’t let you stay curled up in bed for too long. He’d gently carry you to the kitchen to make sure you’re fed.

On days when your words don’t come easily and your thoughts feel jumbled, he never interrupts or rushes you. He stays quiet, a hand on top of yours, nodding along while letting you speak at your own pace even if your sentences come out jumbled. Occasionally, he might ask a question to understand the context. When you do finish what you’ve needed to say, he’ll work through it together with you

If you were taking any medications, he’ll go through the entire packet and read through any information about it online. He’ll remember all the side effects that come with it and checks up on you whenever you take them

When every little sound starts to feel like it was too much, he draws the curtains and does everything he can to make it more peaceful. He moves carefully, no sudden sounds will be made in this household. Even the way he eats or shifts in his seat would become more gentler. If you were comfortable with it, Xavier would gather you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. His hand rest gently over your ear, blocking out whatever noise is left.

Xavier would offer to listen and be the place where you can let it out. But if it’s an unexplainable feeling that you just can’t put into words then he’ll find a different way to cheer you up. He’ll settle beside you, pulling up your favorite comfort shows and have your snacks ready

Zayne:

Whenever getting out of bed feels like too much, he’ll leave a warm cup of tea and a few slices of fruit or your favorite snacks by the bedside table. He never rushes you so he waits. Sometimes he’ll sit nearby so you don’t feel alone. Other times, he gives you the space you want, trusting that you’ll reach out when you’re ready. But when it starts to feel like too much and the silence grows too heavy, he will step in. Never forcefully. He’ll encourage you to start off slow, a hand on yours. Maybe something as simple as sitting up or maybe just brushing your teeth.

Anytime you went through a depressive episode, Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He’ll help you shower, brush through your hair gently, and help brush your teeth. He’ll praise you for each small step you take

The type to send you reminders to take your meds at the right time and that you should eat something before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.

Zayne would understand and has never taken it personally when you don’t want to be touched. He doesn’t try to hug or reach for your hand. Instead, he makes space for you until you you’re comfortable once again

He can tell when you get sad randomly. Zayne would never force you to explain but he will always remind you if you want to talk, he’s there. Sometimes when it’s just a quiet ache sitting in you for no reason, he’ll also understand that. He’ll suggest a walk out for fresh air or just for a different scenery if you’ve been inside for too long.

When the smallest sounds can feel too much, he’ll make sure to move extra quietly. He’ll offer noise cancelling headphones to drown out any sounds. Any open windows will be closed and he’ll draw the curtains to keep the noise out. He’ll make sure to close any of the doors inside softly, silence his phone and pager and he’ll make sure to give you the space you need.

Sometimes the words just don’t come out right but Zayne would never rush you. He would always be patient, even when your voice shakes or when you pause for too long. And when you do finally get them out, no matter how jumbled or messy it sounds, he listens. Every single word and every detail. Once you said all you needed to say, that’s when he speaks and helps

Reminds you that he is always there for you. Even if he was busy at work and you know he can’t reach you right now, you can still message him. He reminds you to never hesitate to reach out, spam him, leave him voice messages. He’ll read through every word and detail and he’ll find time to immediately reach out to you

Rafayel:

You would never feel alone if Rafayel was by your side. Even if he was away from an art exhibition, he would text you throughout the day. If you need him by your side, then he’s finding an excuse to get out of work and find his way to you.

When you’re having a hard time getting out of bed, Rafayel would be by your side under the covers so you don’t feel alone. However if you continue to have a hard time, he doesn’t hesitate to step in. He’ll scoop you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. He’ll start with something simple, like a warm bath since it can maybe cheer you up.

When every noise seems to bother you, he’ll make sure to move around quietly in the studio. He’ll close up the windows and doors so his seagull friends won’t bother you. He’ll even breathe more quietly so he doesn’t bother you. Rafayel would still stay nearby but gives you your space to make sure you’re not alone. He’ll wait until you’re ready to talk with him

Rafayel would never take it personally when you did not want to be touched but he definitely does get a little pouty about it behind your back. He just misses holding onto you but he understands and gives you the space you need.

Feeling sad randomly? Rafayel would never push you to explain what’s wrong but he encourages you that it’s good to let it out and that he’s always there for you. However, if it was unexplainable, he doesn’t make you feel weird about it. He’ll find ways to cheer you up as best as he can. He’ll pull up videos on his phone and you silly videos he found that might make you smile. He’ll even suggest a quiet walk by the beach just for a change of scenery and for some fresh air

Sometimes the right words just won’t come. They get lost somewhere between your thoughts but Rafayel has never once looked at you confused or has never been impatient. He watches you carefully, trying to understand your expression. Sometimes he finishes the sentences for you, not to interrupt but because he’s piecing it together with you. And if you grow frustrated, he offers to sketch it out with you.

Sylus:

On days when getting out of bed feels impossible, he stays beside you but he doesn’t let you stay there for too long. He understands the weight of it all but he will step in. First he’ll start with encouragement, asking you to sit up just for a bit. But if your limbs feel too heavy and your body refuses to move, he never gets frustrated. He’ll carry you in his arms. He’ll run you a warm bath and help bathe you. Later he’ll encourage you to do some small activities with him to get you a little motivated

He would never take it personally if you were not in the mood to be touched. There’s no wounded ego or disappointment. He gives you the space that you need until you are ready to curl up next to him again. He’ll make sure you were absolutely comfortable with it before he reaches back

Sylus would always give you the choice to talk or cry or let it out to him in whatever way you need. But if it’s those days where it’s just unexplainable, he doesn’t press on. Instead, he’ll offer distractions. He’ll pull out a new vinyl that he’s been saving for or maybe stepping out to a new scenery to get rid of whatever ache you have in your chest

When the world feels too loud and your thoughts won’t slow down, no matter how hard you try to explain to Sylus through hiccupped sobs, he doesn’t ask you to make sense of it. Instead, he pulls you into his arms. He doesn’t say much at first, his hand moves slowly up and down your back. He doesn’t need you to have the right words. He’ll listen, hiccupped sobs or not, to every detail you have to say. When your sobs begin to slow, when you start to breathe a little easier, he’s still there, helping you sort through the weight you've been carrying. It doesn’t matter if the problem is big or small. He’ll work them out with you together.

Luckily your shared bedroom is at the top floor to avoid any noises from the city. However if any noise continues to bother you, Sylus wouldn’t ask what’s wrong, he’ll just move around quietly as best as he can. He’ll stop playing any music on his record player unless you don’t want him too. He’ll make sure Luke and Kieran are not in the same building and he’ll make sure to mute Mephisto

Caleb:

Having a hard time getting out of bed? Caleb would give you the space you need, leaving you your favorite snacks and water by the bedside table with a cute little note and a doodle for you. He’ll check in on you often to see if you’ve eaten or just by ‘passing’ by the room. However if it does stretch on, he’ll kneel beside the bed and offer his hand, suggesting a few easy stretches. He’ll encourage just a small stretch for your arms and then legs next and then a small little walk to the kitchen where he has a little meal waiting in the kitchen just for you

As much as Caleb loves to hold you and have you in his arms, he would never be offended if you did not want to be touched. He would never hover and never pressure you. He gives you all the space and time you need when you’re comfortable again

Feeling sad out of nowhere? He would be SO worried, it would be written all over his face. His first instinct is to check in, offering to let you vent out if you need to. He’s always been a good listener. If it just feels unexplainable and you can’t quite name the reason, then he’ll find ways to cheer you up. Caleb would curl up with you and pull up your favorite comfort shows or movies. Or he’ll bring you your favorite snack or make your favorite dish that you love. And of course, he offers his signature big bear hug.

If any sounds were bothering you, he’d make sure to not make a single sound in the house. No loud footsteps in the halls, no clinking dishes, you name it. He’d even go as far as making sure no plane flies in the direction over your home to make sure you get the peace you need.

Sometimes you can’t get the right words to come out and Caleb would be patient with you the entire time. He lets you speak and lets you take all the time you need to get it out. His hand rests on yours, his thumb traces slow, soothing circles over your knuckles as he reads your expressions carefully. If any tears come out from frustration, he cups your face with so much care and wipes away any stray tears.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯:

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! The Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2

ʚɞ Others:

Wattpad ( still updating it rn )

twitter @/ tbaluverr but idk how to use twitter </3