#at least that's personally just something that works for me

[daynascullys]

because tumblr is the gif website, I feel like everyone here should understand the work that goes into creating a gifset. because I think not everyone does, and it’s a huge part of why people don’t respect gif makers the way that they should.

the simplest gifs you will ever see me post still take the better part of an hour to create. because in order to make a gif, you need the material���for me, that means taking screen captures of videos or finding a download for them, both of which take time. then you have to open photoshop and create your gif, which can take a really long time depending on how quick photoshop is, how long the gif you’re making is, the size, any number of variables. and then I always color my gifs from scratch. if there’s dialogue, I listen over and over to try to make sure it’s correct, sometimes I look up transcripts, and sometimes it takes time to decide how to break up the dialogue. so even if it’s a simple two-gif set of a short scene, it will take the better part of an hour at least. and again, this is for the simplest gifsets I create.

so when I gif a scene, I am spending at least an hour with that tiny little snippet of material. which means that whatever it is that is featured in the gifset, it’s something that I like or tolerate enough to spend at minimum an hour with it. and this is why it DOES NOT MATTER if you are not critiquing the gif itself, gif makers do not want to hear every negative thought you have ever had about an actor, character, scene, or anything else they may have made a gifset for. if you want to complain about something, make your own post.

do not take someone else’s creation as a chance to complain or make nasty comments about anything featured in it. if I am willing to gif something, it means that I am willing to spend my own free time looking at it and working with it and creating something with it. so even if it isn’t my favorite scene or character or actor or whatever, I like it enough to watch the same three second clip over and over again for the better part of an hour. and yes, you’re just one person, but imagine a gifset with 100 notes. say 50 of those are reblogs, and 20 have some sort of complaint in the tags. you only see the tags of people who reblog from you, but OP will see all the tags. which means it’s not just your complaint, it’s all 20 different complaints about the thing they liked enough to make a gifset for.

and look—I understand it’s your blog and you can say whatever you want. I understand that I am creating something to be seen by other people and I don’t get to control what people say or do in the tags. if you read this and think fuck that, I can do what I want, you’re right. the purpose of this post is to remind you that you can do whatever you want, but the consequence may be that the people who are creating content for your fandoms stop posting altogether because they get sick of reading everyone’s negative opinions.

all that said, for the love of god: if you like something, reblog it. send asks and tell people you like their creations. say it in the tags. send things to friends. DO NOT REPOST THINGS. if you want to reap the benefits of other people creating things, make them feel like their work is appreciated.

[micahulrichdraws]

I come in peace! I don’t wanna try to convince you to take commissions! But I am curious about why you’re so strongly against them, did you have a bad experience working on one? Anyway, love your stuff, your tarot designs go so hard

Thanks for the love!! The reason isn't a bad experience or some such, it's 19 years of being a professional artist and knowing the field!

TLDR: I'm a traditional pen and ink illustrator, so it's not financially viable or creatively fulfilling.

I'm always down to talk art business, so here's a brief breakdown wall of text:

On the financial side, commission designs are almost always done at a net loss/break even for the artist, and I'm no exception. They're alright for starting out, or if you're looking to incorporate them into your marketing (IE: doing a poster design for a band to gain exposure), but typically they're roughly half the cash-per-hour for any established artist VS making an original design, and creating a print run of it.

Example: while tons of folks would look at someone charging $1k USD for a commission and think that it would be crazy cash, once you break down the math, it's pretty bad. An average design for me takes on average 30-40 hours, and that's because I don't have to communicate with anyone else. I'm just drawin' my idea. Assuming this is a dream client who has the mind-meld with me, wire transfers the $1k straight into my bank account the second it's done, that's roughly $25/hr. Once again - this looks *great*, that's around $50k/yr from drawing custom stuff! But that's not how it works. First of all, most folks would lose their *minds* at paying $1k for a commission - over the years I graphed it out, and back when I was a less-established artist, most folks would start with a budget of $100, have their limits pushed at $300, and outright refuse $500. You have to sift through all of those folks in order to get that reasonable commission. That includes folks who aren't willing to commit to a commission, don't want to say no to the price, but will still take up your time. Roughly, for me at least, 10 hours a week of it. You'll also have to run collections on roughly 20% of your customers - they may pay the deposit, but you'll have to chase them for the final payment. Even if you take the payment *in advance* you'll end up having to chase them down/get ghosted. So, realistically: you end up taking the $500, for *at least* 50 hours of work. On average, it clocked in closer to 65-70. $7.14 an hour. That's less than a third living wage and less than minimum wage. You cannot grow an art practice while actively starving. It's easier to make a design, sell it/license it/etc. to make more cash without losing your mind.

That said - After 2020, I reached a point in my career that when I take on custom work, it's typically from a larger brand with a larger scope and larger budget, ranging anywhere from $5k-$30k. That said - these businesses are typically ones that understand the industry and are far less of a headache to work with than individuals, and will give several months worth of work at a time at a living wage.

On the creative side, I enjoy making my own designs and work as opposed to other folks. I have a ton of drawings and projects I'd rather work on and share with folks of my own that are infinitely more fun than the 200th identical commission request (a biblically accurate angel that also is the grim reaper that is also Baldur's Gate 3 thirstraps/Dark Souls fan art/primarchs because Y'ALL AIN'T CREATIVE BUT MY ASTARION X SANGUINIUS SHIP CAME FIRST.) Also, most of the fun of my career is knowing as many folks as possible get to enjoy my art junk. I'd rather go through a few extra hoops and have thousands of folks see my stuff vs something only one other person gets to see.

If you made it this far, congrats, here is my favorite image I have saved in my camera roll:

[karanseraph]

I'm not super educated in economics, so fact check me, but even at my level of education, I'm pretty sure government and business are NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO function the same economically.

For example in business (and there are some differences for publicly traded entities with shareholders) the general idea is to get out profit. One wants to operate the business for payments, subtract costs and expenses and get a profit out to use for other stuff. If there are employees who aren't themselves operating as a co-op or invested in the company, then they need adequate wages to go spend outside for personal needs

Government doesn't need profit. The government money is public monies belonging collectively to We The People, right? It shouldn't try to be a success, or profit. Those funds kinda exist to keep paying out toward the collective good for social safety nets or shared infrastructure or community services.

Also if systems like public transit or postal services or public school operate at a deficit or don't make profit, that's fine. That's part of the common good services we're collectively paying for with taxes. We buy those services because they help us all function together. We pay that cost for the good.

But in a business, they usually look to at least break even if not profit.

It's not helpful to take a businesss view and mindset to operate government. It just works differently. They'll say something is inefficient (and sometimes it objectively may be) even when really they mean doesn't fit a profitable pattern. Or, they'll complain that a postal serice or transit is too costly and unprofitable so we shouldn't have it. Or, they'll say "But who pays for this?" And " I don't want MY taxes to pay for that!"

But that's just not how taxes function. There are common good or even sometimes foreign aid programs (that foreign aid can even be in our self interest to have allies or less refugee migrations or better health globally) and the taxes get collected and go into the public/common/collective funds and goes out the figurative door to spend on our common interests.

And there's fidly bits like budgeting in advance or maybe war bonds during a war or stuff I'm not educated about. The order of appropriations? But, basically, it ceases being one person's money/taxes and becomes public funds.

And it doesn't operate like a business.

And there's not supposed to be like one guy deciding how and when to spend The People's money, because we don't have kings and we have representatives.

Btw, privatization is stealing from *you.* You are the public in "publicly owned." Oligarchs are coming in to take the things we all share ownership of as Americans, like Medicare, Social Security, National Parks, PBS and scrapping them for parts they find profitable.

The right is planning to rob us and quite literally want us to thank them for the privilege by calling it "government efficiency."

[crepezinhos]

The Lion and The Fox

POV: Sunday has always had high expectations of you, his dear secretary, and his lovesick obsession for you has only made his trust on you increase uncontrollably. But now, he felt like his world was crumbling right in front of him when he learned that you were pregnant, and the father was the man he most despised, that he wish he could deport from Penacony, Aventurine.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a Yandere and Suggestive SFW Oneshot

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Contains: A lot of dirty-talking and racially-motivated talking, accidental pregnancy, bloody fighting, attempted murder, violent language and obsessive/possessive behavior.

— Yandere!Boss!Sunday x Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Aventurine

— AU is: In-Game

“Ah, Y/N. You’re here.” Sunday turned his gaze away from the windowed wall of his office with a little grin growing in the edges of his lips to look at you, who was entering the room with embarrassment already taking you over.

“Hi… Mr. Oak.” You didn’t even dare ignoring his greet as you pushed the door back to its place from behind, especially considering how much he personally respected you.

But you immediately sighed in defeat as you realized how obviously awkward your tone accidentally came out of your throat, which you knew would alarm his attentive ears in a blink.

“Is everything okay?” And his speed to figure someone’s head out, or at least yours in particular, made you even less confident to keeping making eye contact at those mesmerizing amber eyes of his. “You seem very disturbed, dear.”

“Mr. Oak, I—” At the same you desperately wanted to vomit those words out of your chest, your logical thinking warned you that the conversation you were about to have with him right now would not be easy work, perhaps even heartbreaking.

Sunday begun silently walking away from his spot and going towards you, as if he was trying to avoid any explosive reaction out of you or comfort you. But unfortunately, his elegant apparent d and tall figure completely triggered the opposite out of you.

“I need to take a break.” You threw your head to the left as you confessed your intentions to him without any further context, paralyzing the Halovian. “Like… a few days or a whole week…”

“A whole week?” Sunday’s tone did not change, though, and after a few seconds waiting for a response, he finally figured you were too uncomfortable to speak any more without his leadership. “May I ask why?” He continued walking, a little more faster this time, cornering you against the wall even if his hands remained behind his back as usual.

“I’m not feeling quite well, Mr. Oak—”

“Please, address me as Sunday, dear.” You suddenly felt something wooly reach your left cheek and begin to caress it gently, figuring it was Sunday’s fingers after successfully cornering you against the door. “My apologies… I won’t interrupt you again.”

“I’m just feeling sick. That’s all…” You awkwardly finished yourself while trying to ignore his intimate demonstration of care.

“And you need a whole week to recover from it?” His tone shifted to a more serious one while that hand of his spread itself around your whole jaw and slightly pulled it upwards, forcing you to look at him again, and your silence made it obvious to him that you were either lying or hiding something from him. “Let’s sit down, dear.” His hypnotizing grin almost made you vomit the truth right there out of guilt.

Sunday released you and begun stepping towards where his office desk and fancy chair were, without acknowledging how quickly he had convinced you to speak the truth to him. That distressing nod in your throat was already unbearable on its own, but that you were being forced to tell such disappointing news to such a sweet and caring boss like Sunday, that truly admires you and trusts you deeply, just couldn’t be postponed anymore.

“I’m pregnant!” As soon as the distance between you and him was comfortable to you, when Sunday’s hand was about to reach his chair’s arm support, you let the beast out of its cage. “I am feeling sick indeed, but it’s because I’m pregnant and I have no idea what to do about it yet!” Your voice cracked a few times as you bowed your head down, tears barely glistening your eyes, but you did your best to hold them back and not stress Sunday, who had fully paralyzed in his spot.

…

…

…

“I beg your pardon?” Sunday slowly turned his head to you, the rest of his body immobile in its place.

“You heard me, Mr. O—… Sunday… I’m pregnant.” You crossed your arms and legs, leaning against the wall vulnerably.

And once again, Sunday didn’t say anything again some awkward seconds, causing your heart to beat even faster than it already was.

…

…

“P-Pregnant..?” This was one of the first times you’ve ever heard Sunday’s voice crack and stutter.

“Yes, sir.” You quickly nodded.

…

…

…

“Like… pregnant pregnant?” Sunday repeated himself again, a little more desperate.

“Yes, sir.” And you nodded to him again, a little more desperate too.

“When did you…” He didn’t know what to ask you due to the unprocessed shock. “For how long have you known this?” Sunday sounded a little madder as you expected, but at the same time you could feel some worry and anxiety coming from him as you saw him move a hand to his collar and start fidgeting his own tie.

“I took the test a few days ago, Mr. Oak.” Although you noticed how you referred to him in the wrong manner, Sunday didn’t seem to notice it, or at least preferred to not scold you again.

“How many people know about it yet?” Sunday finally turned his full body to you. After all, that question mattered a lot.

“None of my friends know about it yet, only the father and you, sir.” At this moment, it felt like all of your friendship with Sunday never existed in the first place, considering how incredibly negative his reaction was.

“Ah, yes… the father.” Sunday spat the word like a curse, scoffing at it right afterwards before pausing for a moment. “Who is the lucky man, Y/N?” Sunday decided to speak in a warmer tone, hoping it would help appeasing the suspense between you two, but it wasn’t quite useful to you.

“Sunday, I… I don’t think I should—”

“I have to know who the father is, Y/N.” He immediately shut you off with a shaky, anxious voice before you could fully reject him. “I don’t think it would be beneficial for us if the people of Penacony were to learn that the secretary of the Head of the Family… my secretary… is pregnant of someone of bad influence, especially if I was not aware of it or consenting to it. Don’t you agree?” Sunday’s voice cracked a few more times with his growing anger as his fingers became more aggressive with his tie.

You weakly nodded, feeling more tears rise up to your eyes. You were expecting Sunday to have a negative reaction indeed, but you did not expect him to be this bold. It even made you question your non-professional friendship with him. Was he not as attached to you like you thought? Was his kindness to you just a souvenir for your hard work? Have you two ever developed a friendship in the first place? If not, were you really just a secretary to him? If yes, how intimate are you two?

“This seriously endangers your job, Y/N, so if you don’t wish me to take extreme measures with you, tell me, dear, who is the father..?!” Despite his self-control, you noticed a pattern of how he was simply unable to hold all his anger when he mentioned the ‘father’.

You breathed in and out, preparing yourself for the bomb you were about to drop on him. After all, losing your job to this did not seem to be the smartest choice to be done, although the answer itself could still make you lose your job anyway.

“I believe the father is Aventurine, sir.” You closed your eyes as you told your version of the story, trying to make it more broad by stating as a theory rather than a fact, but you were certain that the baby was Aventurine’s.

…

…

…

Sunday scoffed.

…

…

…

“Aventurine?” Sunday’s tone deepened, almost falling into pure madness. “The Sigonian from the IPC?”

“…Yes, sir.” You weakly nodded again, finally finding some courage to open your eyes and look up to him.

“You’ve been going out with him?” Sunday’s tie wasn’t tucked under his white tuxedo anymore, and he was barely blinking his widened eyes.

“I believe you’re crossing a line of privacy, sir. I won’t be answering that.” You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you remembered your last date with the gambler, specifically when the baby was being made, speaking a little bit more annoyed.

“Why? He didn’t assault you or anything of the sort, did he, dear?” Sunday’s hands crossed around each other.

“No, sir.” Your tone went back to its previous shy one.

Sunday’s eyes finally dropped and stopped violently staring at you, looking around in confusion as he breathed in and out harshly. It did help you and your body to calm down, though.

“You know you can always trust me if there’s any danger going on in your life, right?” Sunday looked at you again with curiosity, which made your body stiffen again.

“Absolutely, sir.” You nodded more confidently. That statement reassured you about your previous thoughts about Sunday.

He really isn’t that bold. He never was. Today was just a minimal and reasonable exception.

“Good.” Sunday’s eyes got distracted again as he thought about all the facts that have been told, and you decided to contribute with your own silence.

…

…

…

…

…

“You know what? I must apologize to you, dear. What kind of man treats a pregnant lady like this? Only some uneducated punk… It was very childish of me, Y/N, I’m truly sorry.” Sunday suddenly relaxed in a blink, his hands going behind his back as usual while a cute grin took over his lips again as if he hadn’t almost gone mad in front of you.

After all, self-control is a really important aspect in this sort of job.

“No, it’s ok… I understand. I would be very worried too if I found out my secretary suddenly got pregnant.” Sunday hummed a giggle at your comment as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Go home, dear.” Sunday walked to you again, his hands landing on both your shoulders. “Go take a good rest. I’ve made you work enough this week.” His thumbs gently brushed your skin like wet porcelain, even raising them a few times to push some strands of your hair behind your ear.

“You’re… you’re not mad?” Deep down, you found his sudden change of behavior weird, and you weren’t exactly comfortable with it.

“Mad? Why would I be mad at you, dear? I trust you to make a smart choice about this.” And now that you were closely staring at his fine face, that smile, no matter how warm it was, it seemed to be betraying whatever was going through his mind. “Make sure to keep your commitment with the Family in mind, ok?” Sunday suddenly leaned his face to the right side of your face, his mouth hanging inches away from your ear as his voice suddenly turned serious.

“Of course, boss.” You nodded to Sunday, who patted your head in appreciation for a few seconds before finally letting you go.

.

SLAM!

All the human bodies in the casino were attracted by the loud bang of the double doors being against the walls as they were brutally pushed open, whispers beginning to accumulate onto each other as they realized it was Sunday Oak who walked in.

“Is that Sunday Oak?”

“I thought he condemned gambling…”

“What is he doing here?”

“Sunday Oak?”

“Should I ask for an autograph?”

“Isn’t he Robin’s older brother?”

Sunday couldn’t care less about any of those comments or the glances landing on him as he walked inside the flashy halls of the casino. He was entirely interested and focused on his hunt, and his hunt only.

After all, it didn’t take him more than 5 seconds to identify what he was searching for.

Aventurine.

The slim, blonde man sitting down lazily on a chair with spread legs and a pack of cards in his hands, accompanied by two other men playing with him, sitting in the opposite corners of the table, all of them shaping the form of a triangle where Aventurine was directly facing Sunday. The table was full of cards and chips thrown around it, even a few real credits too, showing that they weren’t just playing casually, and three cups of alcohol being the only objects standing still.

“Ah, the Head of the Family himself, Sunday Oak! What an honor it is to have you in my casino! What brings you here tonight?” The gambler put his cards facing down in the table to open his arms to Sunday in a warm greeting.

His purple eyes still managed to shine through the dark pair of sunglasses he was wearing and the whole dark ambient around them.

But Sunday’s murderous face didn’t appease a bit with his warm greeting.

“Leave.” He glanced down at the two other gamblers, who simply shared confused looks with each other and Aventurine when they heard his order. “NOW!” Both men immediately flinched upwards hearing his scream, fleeing from their seats as if they were fleeing for their lives.

After all, who would be insane enough to challenge the Head of the Family?

As soon as the steps of the coward men started to become faint murmurs in the ambient, Aventurine finally started taking advantage of their privacy to speak again.

“See… when I say that you’re always welcome in here, Mr. Oak, that doesn’t necessarily mean you have the right to interrupt any of the games—”

“You got Y/N pregnant..?!” Aventurine’s smirk grew as he realized what was Sunday’s objective in his casino and how angry he was due to it, even if he had been interrupted.

“Ah… so you’ve heard the news…” Aventurine proceeded to grab the glass of liquor sitting closest to him and took a sip of it. “It is also an honor to have being the first person to congratulate me…”

“Congratulate you..?” Sunday’s eyes widened in audacity at his words. “Congratulate you?! For what? For making such an absurdly irresponsible decision?!” Sunday finally dragged one of the empty chairs closer to him and sat himself down at on it, both his hands slamming the table while Aventurine simply mired down at the liquor in the glass. “You’re a gambler, and you’re completely addicted to it! What is wrong with you?! What kind of man sustains his family by gambling?!” Aventurine couldn’t help but scoff at his words as his eyes finally looked up to meet his again, starting a war of eye contact.

“Oh, please, we both know that you’re not mad at the fact that I’m a gambler about to become a father.” The gambler finally placed the glass back to the table, his arms crossing as he leaned against the chair.

Sunday refused to answer him although both men had a lot of privacy to discuss such an intimate topic.

“You’re mad that it’s not going to be a beautiful and cute Halovian baby growing inside her with cute little wings on his head and a shiny golden halo that will grow to be the Family’s next prodigy..! And instead, it’s going to be a little Sigonian trash with cursed fortune.” Aventurine used his hands to point at Sunday’s features and his owns, but it didn’t trigger Sunday to answer him, despite his boiling annoyance. “Not that? No? Then it might be that… you’re mad at the fact that it wasn’t you who made the path inside her womb first?” Aventurine uncrossed him arms and set them on table while leaning his body a little closer to his to challenge him, finally causing Sunday to slightly snap.

After all, an obsessed man like him could not handle the imagination of his perfect pure darling being bred by the man who directly competes with him for her, all twirled around his figure and showing him your nudity.

“You little shit…” Sunday fisted his own hands as his eyebrows to frown in the table’s cloth as he tried avoiding those sinful thoughts.

“Me?” Aventurine’s eyes widened with Sunday’s hypocrisy. “Imagine you’re constantly trying to hang out with this marvelous, jaw-dropping and inspiring woman, but she’s always rejecting you because she was either working in a Saturday night, or too exhausted from it on Sunday, hum? You feeling me now?” Aventurine tried waiting for an answer, but Sunday refused to let himself downgrade to the gambler’s level and backed down again. “I think I should actually thank you for making her exhausted and home-alone during her precious weekends. You’ve surely left that woman touch-starved, and I certainly took advantage of that whenever I insisted in visiting her in her home… She’s actually extra tight when she’s stressed.” Aventurine winked at him, intentionally ignoring Sunday’s unblinking, widening eyes. “Just to think about my cock suffocating inside that tiiight pussy of hers while she begs for me to keep ravishing it nonstop makes me so hard…” Aventurine was rubbing his legs together under the table to avoid his slight erection to grow any further under his pants while his cheeks slightly reddened.

“You hell-sent maniac…” That was all Sunday could mumble without exploding. “Do you even listen to yourself? Is this the poor vocabulary that poor kid would learn from their father? You have absolutely no conditions of being a father. I know it, you know it, Y/N knows it. Do you have any idea how worried she was when she was talking to me about this mess? Do you think she’d be that worried about it if I was the father of her child, hum? Do you think she’s happy to be pregnant of you?” Sunday finally decided to take some dominance in the conversation and leaned closer to Aventurine.

“Do you think she’d be any happier to pregnant of you, Mr. Oak? Her manipulative boss that takes advantage of her every free second to keep her revolving around you, yet, refuses to take a single step forward with your relationship with her and keeps edging her pleasure in you?” Aventurine sounded a little angrier as he described Y/N’s work ambient.

“You know nothing about me and Y/N…” Sunday hissed at him. Deep down he knew he had a fair point and that he had to change his relationship with her if he wanted to conquer her heart.

“Well, I certainly know all of this would’ve probably been avoided if you weren’t the coward that you are, and asked her out before I did. Now, even if you did manage to make her fall in love with you and make her your wife, you’d never be able to get rid of the shape of her insides, forever prepared to receive me inside her instead of you because she knows who introduced her the magic of paradisiacal pleasure.” Aventurine twirled his fingers together and set his chin on top of them, his face proudly hanging on it.

“You do realize Y/N is most likely going to abort that cursed baby, right?” Sunday finally found an opportunity to counter Aventurine, smirking in victory after all those sexual comments of you Aventurine has been doing to frustrate him.

“Good for her.” Aventurine shrugged his shoulders, dumbfounding Sunday, who allowed his smirk to die for a moment.

Sunday didn’t understand. Wasn’t he cheerful about her pregnancy? Wasn’t he happy about claiming her womb first and making her a mother before him? Wasn’t he initially arguing with Sunday about being a father?

“You’re just bluffing. I know you’re disappointed.” Sunday brought his grin back before Aventurine could take dominance again, trying to convince him to let that guilt out of his mind.

“I don’t think you’ve understood it yet, Mr. Oak… I don’t intend to be a father. Never intended to be.” Aventurine spoke with a straight face, very relaxed as he confessed his feelings, unlike Sunday.

“I beg your pardon?” Finally, Sunday felt challenged again, so his smirk died again and never rose again.

“Sure, it would be disappointing if she did decide to abort the baby. After all, the idea of repopulating my clan back to this world sounds good to me… but I got her pregnant simply because I want to get her away from you, and that pregnancy is going to force her to take a break from you, and maybe eternally. I already heard you did let her go home today, so it’s already working! Thank you, Mr. Oak!” Sunday was entirely speechless at Aventurine’s confession, not a single full phrase managing to form in his head as the gambler paused again to take another sip of his liquor.

And Sunday knew he had more to add onto that confession, seeing how he swallowed the liquor quickly.

“It surprised me how all it takes to impregnate a woman is a single little puncture in a condom… Make sure to double-check your condoms before sex, Sunday! Protection isn’t a joke!” Sunday couldn’t believe all he had to add to his confession was a joke.

“You..! You did it on purpose?!” Sunday hissed as if he wanted to squeeze the gambler’s head until it crushed into a gory mess.

“Congratulations, Mr. Oak! We can finally have a man-to-man conversation!” Aventurine threw his hands in the air cheerfully as if he was celebrating his birthday.

“Do you have shit in your head instead of a functional brain?! Do you realize you’re putting the life of a child on stake and even her trust on you?! You’re a monster! You had no right to fool Y/N like that!” Sunday was finally finding out how little power of you he had on his hands, his anger finally spilling from its chamber.

“Oh? But you have the right to keep overworking her with the stupidest tasks ever? Making her bring you breakfast and lunch from the cafe with the stupidest exigences ever?! Like ‘No veggies, only keep the onions’, ‘Diet raspberry juice’ and ‘Strawberry cupcakes for desert with no sprinkles or extra frosting’? To make her rearrange your whole calendar for the month because you suddenly have a doctor’s appointment in the middle of month? Knowing she’s not intelligent or bossy enough to tell you’re just taking advantage of her position and her trust on you? That you’re a very busy man and genuinely can’t deal with fucking calendars on your own?” Aventurine also dropped his smirk, speaking in a more angered one as well.

“It’s her job, and I’m her boss. And don’t you worry about it because Y/N gets some good money for all her hard work and she loves me for it.” Sunday defended himself a little proudly. It was a good reason to keep her busy with him.

“And I’m just a great fucking friend! See? We’re both playing dirty here…” Aventurine giggled at his own pun, which made Sunday’s wings to twitch.

“Don’t imagine it… Don’t picture it…” Sunday thought to himself, and Aventurine took advantage of his silence.

“And, think about it, what is the worth in all the money you apparently give her if she can’t find herself some time to spend it because her boss can’t let her enjoy her weekends, hum?” Aventurine crossed his arms, settling them on the table to keep himself still leaning close to Sunday’s face.

“As soon as I get you out of my way, I’ll make sure she’ll have a lot of time to enjoy her life with me as her company.” Sunday threatened him with a mean smirk in his face, finding joy in Aventurine’s struggle.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet, Sunday. Y/N is already mine. All, all mine. She’s been mine for a long time now and will always be mine. Your little tricks to imprison her with you are clever, but you know how gambling with me works. I’ll always find my way out of risk and become the winner. And if Y/N is clever enough to remember this little fact, you might face a serious danger of her deciding to keep the baby.” Aventurine’s irises were trembling with excitement and hatred for Sunday as he talked about his possession over you.

“We both know she won’t.” Sunday hissed, still keeping his smirk, although he was doing a great effort to not punch the gambler’s face.

“How do you know, hum? Y/N is the kindest soul in this planet! I don’t think she’d opt to interrupt that growing life inside her so easily like you think. Maybe she’ll start sympathizing with it and decide to accept the duty of raising it with me as the father and provider. And if that happens, what are you going to do, huh? Shove your hand inside her womb and abort the baby yourself? You can’t do anything!” Aventurine cackled at the thought of Sunday trying to get rid of the baby inside you or convincing you to do it and pathetically being defeated.

“Maybe I’ll fire her. I can’t afford to have a secretary who’s going to birth a disgusting Avgin nor can she afford her life without the salary I give her… It’s a fair trade!” Sunday threatened enthusiastically, although in his mind he knew he’d never do that to you.

“Oh, really? And make her hate you forever? What a stupid way to give me the opportunity to finally imprison her with me, Sunday! Maybe she’ll learn how great it is to have me as her sugar daddy…” Aventurine threw himself in the chair and I’m his arms in the arm as if he was receiving a gift from Sunday.

“Or maybe I’ll take the matter to my own hands and marry her with me before you. And trust me, gambler, I’ll make sure you have the lowest share of custody, or maybe even none. I’m the head of the Family Oak. I own this whole planet in the palm of my hand.” Sunday also rose his hands in the air and inflated his chest, trying to demonstrate the size of the power he owns.

“Yet, you can’t stop the woman you love from fucking with other men.” Aventurine hummed some giggles while Sunday had to stop himself again to impede his brain from picturing that scenario. “I would rather die than let a baby of my blood to be raised by you. To be raised like a mere annoyance in the house… forever incapable of making his daddy proud of him because he’s not his real son… destined to be overshadowed by his future siblings… Both Y/N and the baby would be happier to have me taking care of them instead of you.” Aventurine’s tone deepened again, his arms lowering sown to his knees and gripping them to control himself.

“I will not lose Y/N to you, gambler. I don’t care if that baby would not be the happiest one in the world. I refuse to let you have her for another single minute of your life with those dirty hands of yours.” Sunday spat his prejudice for the gambler with no remorse.

“Oh-ho? Are you afraid I’m a better womanizer than you, Mr. Head of the Family? That my ‘dirty hands’ are capable to make Y/N moan my name in a volume you’ll never be able to get out of her?” Aventurine stared at the deepest corners of Sunday’s eyes.

“Quiet.” Sunday hissed barely above a whisper.

“That my fingers will penetrate that wet pussy of hers while I devour her throbbing clit with my dirty Avgin mouth? Oh, yeah, I’ve already done that!” Aventurine brought a hand closer to Sunday, only to thrust the air with his ring-finger and middle-finger a few times, pretending it was your pussy.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Sunday made sure to pronounce every syllable of his order slowly, exciting Aventurine to keep teasing him even further.

Sunday’s cheeks were reddening with arousal as he couldn’t hold back the few pictures his brain illustrated for him of Y/N’s naked body being touched by Aventurine, meanwhile the gambler moved his hands to his body and started brushing his own body in a suggestive way.

“Ohh~… Aventurine..! You feel sooo good around me~… Oh, right there..! Fuck me right there, Aven..!” Sunday’s fingers gripped on the table’s cloth as if that was the only thing keeping him from having a boner on his own, trying to force himself to focus on the gambler’s threat rather than his pathetic teasing. “Ah, yes~! Touch me, Aventurine! Touch me!” Aventurine put his own palms on his own breasts and gently fondled them, which made Sunday feel so disgusted he slightly backed away from the pervert in front of him.

“Do you seriously think acting like this is going to annoy me?” Sunday bluffed, betraying his own mindset. “I must thank you for the spoilers, though.” He shrugged his shoulders, pretending there wasn’t a noticeable tent growing in his pants.

“See? Even you recognize you’ll never be her first in anything because I’ve been there first!” Aventurine dropped his act, jumping back to the table, leaning over to challenge Sunday with a creepy expression and a proud smile. “Every Saturday night, when you decided to send her a ‘Goodnight’ message and ask how she was doing, I was already pining her down on her own bed and taming her pussy.” Sunday’s mind was unfortunately too attracted to that scenario, forcing himself to think about it.

Thinking about your insides being stretched by the gambler, your breasts fondled by the gambler, your pretty moans being listened by the gambler, your mouth kissing the gambler, your clothes being taken off by the gambler…

All by that stupid gambler, and not him.

“Focus, Sunday. Focus. Focus on the gambler.” Sunday thought to himself.

“Sometimes I even answered you for her, y’know? Sending you a ‘Goodnight’ with cute a heart sticker, pretending to be your dear woman while the real one was gagging on my cock.” Sunday’s eyes widened as he heard that disgusting confession.

Every time you talked to him at nighttime, Sunday would think about what were you possibly doing while texting him. Maybe you were changing yourself into your pijamas, specifically a beautiful nightgown of his favorite kind. Maybe you were kicking your feet and your cheeks were red because you were talking so intimately with your sweet and handsome boss.

How did you even save his contact as? Most likely ‘Mr. Oak’ or maybe ‘Mr. Sunday’ because of your professional relationship with him, but maybe it is something more friendly like ‘Sunday’ or ‘Sunday ❤️’.

But now all those fantasies that made fall in love with you even harder, were crushed by the gambler’s words, and he was really hoping the man was just bluffing to annoy him.

“You disgusting piece of crap..! You had no right to do that!” He hissed as his mind pictured more and more dirty illustrations.

“Seeing you smirk at me every time I passed her to you, thinking you were in charge of her and that I was losing precious time with her, made me want to laugh. Poor you..! You had absolutely no idea! You could’ve died without knowing!” Aventurine started cackling as he saw Sunday’s destroyed ego.

Sunday couldn’t believe it either. The gambler was right, and he did not plan on ever admitting it. To think that he has been interpreting you so wrongly all along and that that Aventurine was taking advantage of his foolishness was making him ache in need for revenge.

It was embarrassing to see a man of his level of money, power and intelligence to commit such a rookie mistake, of letting your weekends free of his obsessiveness and stalking, and find himself in the edge of losing to someone so weaker than him.

But Aventurine didn’t notice Sunday’s breathing becoming louder and louder.

“That’s why I had to show you the truth. To show you who is truly in the lead.” Aventurine unexpectedly leaned closer to Sunday until he was a few centimeters away from his right ear, invading his personal space. “That’s why I made a little hole in my condom before going to her home and ejaculated a lot of sperm inside that pussy when we were having sex. Thousands of my little spermatozoids… finding a way out of that rubber barrier and swimming their way inside her womb, claiming ‘your’ territory…” Sunday shit his eyes, trying to control his painfully quick heartbeats while Aventurine kept enjoying the mental torture. “And trust me, Sunday, despite her not knowing what I had planned for her, she was the one that kept begging for me to keep fucking her and to cum inside her again. Not a single cell of her body wants you—” Sunday unexpectedly unchained himself from the chair, violently grabbing Aventurine’s collar by his green uniform and fisting his knuckles across his cheek.

Sunday just couldn’t deal with his own imaginations anymore.

It hurt him to imagine you not desiring for him to touch you that way. The same way you’ve allowing the gambler to do. It couldn’t be true. He knew he could make you feel as good as the gambler did. All that he was missing was courage to ask you out. To think of Aventurine having the privilege to watch you during sex, giggling about Sunday’s obnoxiousness. To think of the gambler fucking you right in front of him, conquering your heart, and you enjoying it rather than asking him to stop and to saves by Sunday.

Even if it was just a dark fantasy. A horror one. One that would never come to be true, if it depended on you at least, he smacked Aventurine’s face as if he wanted to avoid that possibility as much as he could. He did not want that scum making someone like you fall in love with it anymore.

Although the punch itself wasn’t hard enough to make Aventurine drop his smirk, it was surely made him roll down from the table and vulnerably land on the floor along with a few cards, chips and one of the wine glasses, that broke as soon as it touched the ground, and Sunday throwing himself on top of him.

“YOU FOUL DISGRACE!” Sunday kept attempting to spank Aventurine, who allowed himself to receive every single punch like a masochist while laughing at how Sunday snapped. “YOU HAD NO RIGHTS TO DO THAT TO Y/N!” Everyone in the casino already had their bodies turned to both men, some had even stood up to have a better view of the scene going on, all the whispers accumulating onto each other again.

“What’s going on?!”

“Are they fighting?!”

“Why are they fighting?!”

“Did Sunday Oak lose a bet?!”

“Who is Y/N?”

“They know each other?!”

“Punching me… won’t undo what has been done, Sunday! She’s pregnant! 100% pregnant!” Finally, Aventurine got bored of Sunday’s amateur boxing and rose his hands from the floor, clutched them around Sunday’s cranial wings, squeezing them hard to almost break its bones, and launched his forehead against Sunday’s.

“Who is pregnant?”

“This Y/N person is pregnant?”

“For God’s sake, who’s Y/N?!”

Sunday moaned loud in pain, accidentally weakening his weight on top of Aventurine, who quickly pushed him away from the top and reverted the positions.

“She’s mine… all mine!” Despite the few blood drops running down his nostrils and red marks in his cheeks, Aventurine kept smirking as if he was having the biggest thrill of his life. “And I’ll make sure to keep impregnating her every time I need to remember you who is in the lead! Over and over again!” Aventurine made sure to whisper his words about you and guarantee that nobody would gossip about their conflict, or at least gossip it with all the context behind it.

Aventurine’s punches were way more painful compared to Sunday’s, which was causing him to become so pained and desperate that he couldn’t even react to it, nor hold the gambler back. He doesn’t really tell people that he’s quite stronger than he looks. Although his slim body and smaller height sell the contrary image, all the years he spent being a slave strengthened his muscles forever, unlike Sunday, who has never quite invested in giving himself a buffer body. And the many rings hanging in his fingers, made of multiple gems, were making it only worse.

Sunday started to panic. So many people were witnessing the worst side of him, the Head of the Family, the representative of their planet, being in a casino and initiating a fight on it, one that he was also pathetically losing. After he’s given so many speeches about the importance of peace and the abolishment of violence, he was the first one to opt for violence when the stakes of a fight got too high? Even if he found a way to avoid the situation to escape everyone’s mouth, it still wouldn’t hide the multiple bruises in his face, and that would immediately denounce that he got involved in a fight, whether being who started it or not. Injuries like hematomas and cuts can take weeks to fully heal depending on their depth. How would he hide that from his public? His dear little sister? Gopher? Or… you?

“Oh, fuck.” Sunday thought.

Had he just made a bad decision? Had he embraced his instincts rather than his critical thinking?

He couldn’t let himself lose his reputation or influence so easily. He’d be willing to beg for Aventurine’s mercy as long as his face remained intact. So, that’s why he did his best to turn his face to the side while his arms and cranial wings crossed on top of it to create a barrier between him and Aventurine.

“What is it, birdie? Are you scared?! Come on, punch me again, I dare you!” Aventurine teased as he started digging his hands under his protection and undo it.

But Sunday was way more focused on the miracle laying in the floor by his side. The cup that had previously fallen in the floor and was ignored by them had broken into many big shards of glass, all beautifully laying down by his side and going unnoticed by the gambler.

How fun would it be to stab the foul gambler?

One of Sunday’s arms slowly reached out to the glass, but it wasn’t long enough to grab it, his fingers slightly touching the pointy tip of the glass. And unfortunately, a single arm on its own wasn’t enough to impede Aventurine from breaking through his barrier and curl his both hands around his neck.

“Bye-bye, Mr. Oak…” Aventurine’s eyes only widened in pure joy the more he suffocated Sunday’s throat.

Sunday grunted and gasped, trying to salvage the remaining oxygen in his body while his single hand kept helplessly trying to fight him back and pull at least one of Aventurine’s arms away of his neck.

Aventurine was so invested in his own sadism, watching Sunday’s face contort and crumble, that he still didn’t realize what was his other arm doing, slowly pulling the glass closer to his palm bit by bit.

And when Sunday’s fingers were finally able to pull that piece of glass close enough to him, with a swift movement, Sunday was finally able to—

“ENOUGH!” Aventurine was suddenly pushed away from Sunday by a security guard, immediately making Sunday’s lungs fill themselves with the oxygen he had lost while the glass stabbed nothing but the air.

And with the assistance of incoming men, Aventurine was quickly struck on the floor with his belly turned down and his hand locked together behind his back.

“Smart move, birdie! But, don’t you see..? You don’t stand a chance against my luck!” Aventurine cackled while he was momentarily being cuffed while Sunday was still recovering from the murder attempt.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Sunday couldn’t stand seeing that smirky face of his anymore and quickly stood up again, getting up on his feet again just to launch himself on the gambler again, the shard of glass already prepared to stab him.

But Sunday was immediately held back by even more guards that arrived in the scene, every muscle of his arms being held back while his legs desperately kicked the air.

“N-No!” He grunted in agony while one of the guards that cuffed Aventurine begun moving to Sunday and undoing his grip on the shard, pulling it away from him after a few seconds.

Aventurine kept cackling at the scene he watching, loving to see Sunday losing all his power and dignity in front of so many people.

“I PROMISE YOU I’M GONNA KILL YOU WITH MY OWN HANDS ONE DAY, YOU MANIAC!” Sunday spat his violent threat while still trying to launch himself towards Aventurine.

“Lets settle the bet, then! Whoever kills each other first gets to keep Y/N forever! Fair trade, ain’t it?” The gambler rose his head to talk to Sunday more confidently.

“AND I’LL MAKE SURE YOUR DIRTY CLAN WILL BE ERASED FROM HISTORY!” Slowly, both men were dragged afar away from each other, Aventurine being set in a sofa while Sunday was kicked out of the casino, rolling down a few staircases before finally finding himself wormed on the floor.

“Oh, wanna raise the stakes?! If I’m the one who kills you, then… your little sister will be punished too~…” Sunday fumed in anger as he thought of the murder of his little sister.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE PUT ROBIN INTO THIS, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Aventurine rolled his eyes in boredom with Sunday denying to raise the stakes of their bet.

“Get him out of my sight.” Aventurine looked at the guards and spoke more seriously, a smirk still displayed in his lips.

Sunday gasped when he begun being pulled away from his prey.

“YOU’RE DEAD, GAMBLER! DEAD!” Sunday made sure to state his final words before he was thrown in the streets.

Sunday rolled a few stairs down, ruining the perfect white color of his suit, but unfortunately he couldn’t stop to relax, ease the pain and fix himself because of the people that could be around him. So, he quickly got up from the floor and fled to a narrow corner between two tall buildings, surrounded by dark and trash and isolated him from anyone’s sight.

Meanwhile he fixed his suit, hair and face, while calling a cab to pick him up, Sunday kept insulting the gambler and even himself.

Sunday knew he should’ve asked you out long before all this situation, but he didn’t believe he had to do it since he didn’t think Aventurine’s competition was that dangerous. So, he preferred to wait until he believed you and him had developed a better friendship, and possibly sparked you to like him more than as a friend, a colleague or a boss.

But now, the race for your hand in marriage has started and Sunday is ready to cheat to win.

It doesn’t matter if he suffocates you with work.

It doesn’t matter if he has to kill Aventurine or the baby.

It doesn’t matter if he’ll not raise the baby without a lot of love and care.

It doesn’t even mattter if you don’t want to marry him in the first place.

He’ll win this bet.

Taglist: @komelliko @gaboplaydespacito

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it! <3

[weirdblkgrl]

MODERN AU! SEVIKA HEADCANONS

cw: none i think. just fluff

an: please forgive me if this is trash, this is my first post. also this is barely proofread sorry :p. also here's my modern!sevika moodboard

modern!sevika who’s love language is physical touch. she’s not great with her words like… at all. she loves to wrap her strong arms around your waist and bury her face in her neck while you’re cooking or cling onto you while she's sleeping. she won’t tell you she loves you, but she’ll tell you in other ways.

soft giggles escape your lips. “what are you doing?” you question, as sevika holds you down on the couch. she peppers slow, soft, wet kisses in a trail from your cheek, to your jaw, and down your neck. “what, i’m not allowed to kiss my girl anymore?” she replies, a cheeky smile on her face.

modern!sevika who loves to watch cheesy rom-coms with her girl. whether it’s a k-drama or an old movie, she’s pretty much down to watch anything. not only does she watch it, but she’s invested in it. she’s definitely slammed her cup on the coffee table too hard, and a bit too many times. she can’t help it, how else is she supposed to react to such a riveting plot?

sevika watches the tv screen intently, eyebrows furrowed. “wait. the head nurse is her mom? and her mom killed his mom?! what the hell?!” you can’t help but laugh and feel amused seeing her so into the show.

(any its okay not to be okay fans? :p)

modern!sevika who is actually super sweet, but only extends that curtesy to her girlfriend. i mean, let’s be real, she has the meanest rbf you have ever seen and she’s the most romantic person, to say the least. but if there’s anything she knows how to do, is take care of what’s hers.

you can’t help but plop onto your bed and let out an exasperated sigh after the day you’ve had. long meetings, a heap ton of work, and constantly complaining bosses has finally taken its toll on you. you curl up on your bed, stray tears falling from your watery eyes and soft sniffles escaping you. you were so lost in your thoughts, that you didn’t even notice sevika had arrived home. it wasn’t until you felt a dip in the bed behind you, that your cries had paused.

“what’s wrong?” you hear behind you, in a low gravelly voice as the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood settle in the air. “just…work.” you respond weakly. she hums as she wraps a strong arm around you and pulls you closer. she leaves a gentle kiss on your shoulder. "need something?"

she’ll do whatever you need her to do. she’ll go out and get food, or cook your favorite meal. she cuddle you on the couch, and let you put whatever you want on the tv. all that matters is that her girl feels better, and when she finally gets a smile out of you, she can’t help but emulate it, tooth gap and all.

modern!sevika who can speak fluent hindi. she doesn’t speak it often, but she might mumble something under breath subconsciously since it was her first language. she finds it absolutely adorable when you try to repeat after her and totally butcher the pronunciation. she appreciates the effort. you’ve also picked up a couple phrases she says often, responding in english to whatever it is she said.

not only do you try to speak her language, but she’ll try to speak any other language you do, too. despite her confident demeanor though, she gets shy, so she'll just respond in english as well.

“tengo hambre,” you groan. she scoffs, though it’s more like a laugh. “go make yourself something to eat then.” a childish pout quickly forms on your face as give her a mean side eye. sevika rolls her eyes, knowing you’re too lazy to go cook yourself a proper meal. she’ll give in, not wanting you to be hungry. “next time you’re doing this yourself,” she’ll grumble.

(obviously if not spanish whatever other language you speak)

modern!sevika who's undeniably and astonishingly good with people. it makes sense, since she is a corporate manager for a large finance company. when your friends first meet her, everyone was, understandably, intimidated. but they were surprised to find she’s actually… charming. it's easy to have a conversation with her, but only if she wants to have one. she'll make it known if she doesn't.

a small smile finds its way onto your face as you leave your friend's event. "what?" sevika asks, confused, but amused nonetheless. "nothing... just... that went better than expected." she raises an eyebrow. "what? what'd you think was gonna happen?" she asks, skeptically. "to be honest, i'm not sure, but i didn't know you were so... personable." you give her a suspicious look, "have you been hiding this skill from me?" she rolls her eyes. "dont be an idiot. how'd you think i got you head over heels for me?" she says, as she smiles cockily.

ahh she's my fave i hope you liked it :D

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (six)

franco colapinto - "how do you like that?"

tags: smut/pwp, phone/facetime sex, mutual masturbation, voice kink, dirty talk

sinful sentences catalogue

weeks apart, you have been apart for weeks. while formula one had been a blessing to franco, it had be a source of personal hell for you. while his karting career meant he was away a lot, at least the schedule allowed you to visit him more often. but with you wrapped up in your own academic work, you had been without the touch of your lover for close to four weeks now.

and things were getting dire for you. you missed sleepy mornings together, you missed the good luck kisses, you missed his jokes and his laugh. you missed the smell of him after a shower (sometimes after a work out) - he was such an important part of your life that without it everything felt grayer.

you tried to keep a positive outlook though, you cheered him on and watched every race. you were his number on fan on top of being his lover. but you could only masturbate so many times with your face in his pillow before you started to get cramps in your hands.

but a small saving grace came when you got a text message from franco asking if you wanted to facetime - "i miss you, my love. i want to see your face once more!"

you were both sexually needy. franco wanted you and casual catch-up turned into him without his shirt on and his hand grasped around his cock in his sweatpants. his breathing heavy as he positioned his phone up against some pillows. to eye you with heat while he pleasured himself.

you did the same before you kicked off your sweatpants and took off your (formerly his) t-shirt. he caught sight of your breasts and gripped his cock a little tighter to off-set the throb of erection. you drove him crazy, you were something else entirely. that was why he wanted you so badly, why he craved for you the way someone craved food or water. your pretty tits were a life source for him.

"i wish you were here right now. i wish i was back home in your bed. does it still smell like me, angel? you know i have one of your sweaters, sadly it accidentally got covered in cum. but when i get home, i'm going to put it on you and fuck you right up against your dresser until all those little toys fall off." his voice was heavy with lust, his breathing was heavy as he got his cock out of his sweatpants. he couldn't take anymore. not while you looked so beautiful for him.

"i miss you franco." you said softly, "i'm so proud of you, but i miss our time together. i want you, fuck. anyway i can have you, i just need you, honey." you started to rub your achy clit, your wetness got all over the fabric of your panties and seeped through onto your hand.

the feeling was intense as you two started to pleasure yourselves. franco's phone fell over once and he was quick to move it back as he stroked his cock quickly. pleasure zapped through your bodies, even so much space between you two, you felt the connectivity between you two. the closeness you shared as you masturbated together.

"i missed you too." he groaned, "every day we are apart, it feels like days upon days. i missed you, i missed our home. i miss the way you laugh and how you look when you are asleep. and i know that you think you look ugly when you sleep, but i love it. i love all of you." he groaned as he continued to pleasure himself. his hand fisted his cock as he felt the pleasure leap through his body.

he kept his eyes near glued to the screen by him, the sight of your hands in between your legs. you looked beautiful in a way that words failed him. the usual charming franco colapinto was at a loss for words in regards to your beauty. knowing that you were touching yourself because of him, that you couldn't deny yourself pleasure in regards to your lover.

"you'll be home soon, and when you come home, i'm going to make it special. because you've been working so hard, i miss you. but i'm so proud." you whimpered as you touched yourself further. you could feel the pleasure through your body the more you touched yourself, "i'll make our reunion special, babe. that's a promise." the words were filthy and he loved it, he loved you.

"i'll take care of you, my love." he said softly, "make up for lost time. you and i, you better buy enough groceries for two weeks because we won't be leaving the apartment." he chuckled lowly, "i want to remember every part of you while we are apart."

franco wanted to touch you. he wanted his strong hands up and down your body, he wanted to feel his lover under his touch. he wanted to hit your sweet spot, the spots you couldn't quite reach. he wanted to feel your climax and then kiss your heated skin once you came down from the high. he wanted everything, he was a lover in that way. the kind that wanted you in every capacity. just one of the funner ways was to fuck you.

facetime would just have to make due until he finally got his hands back on you. to see you on the screen masturbating did arouse him greatly. he tensed his grasp around his cock as he continued to let his mouth run with his affection towards you. "you look beautiful, even with that shit camera of your phone. but i know your body anywhere. look at your breasts, your pussy. that look on your face." he purred as he continued to stroke. he could feel the want in his body as he made the pleasure grow in his core.

"how do you like that?" you asked, near pathetic.

"my hand is nothing like you. but, i'll think about when i see you again. two more races and then i am all yours. just as you are mine, right?" he panted heavily as the pleasure raced through him further. he could feel the tension in his body from the intense feeling of it all. his heart hammered and he could feel it down to his feet.

"sweet talker."

he chuckled, "only for you, my love. only you make me act like this. when i'm with you, i lose control. even over a screen, i want you. fuck, i need you." he licked his lips as the pleasure continued to mount in his body. he stroked his cock heavier and let the pleasure wash over him. the thrill of want in his core only grew the more he touched himself. he switched up the pace every so often to keep the pleasure throbbing in his brain.

"i love you, franco." you groaned.

"and i love you." he replied. he watched you through half-lidded eyes as you brought yourself to climax. he said as you panted through climax, "when i come home, you'll get the real thing. i promise." there was a lust to his words that only emboldened you to continued to pleasure yourself through orgasm.

and it excite franco enough to finish as well. he came with a groan and tried to bite back his words getting too loud. williams didn't need to know what he was getting up to tonight. the pleasure washed over him as you teased your clit to the sight of him orgasming.

you soon both stopped your pace and laid out on your respective beds. you brought the phone closer to him and looked at his flushed expression. you giggled and made kissing noises towards the camera which made him laugh a little.

"a few more weeks, my love. then i am back home and i'm back in your arms." he smiled dreamily at you, "i'm thinking maybe, after the season, i can take some of the racing money and we can go somewhere for the holidays. i want to make up for all the time we're apart. what do you say?"

his gesture made your cheeks heat up a little bit. you replied as franco got a good look at your face on the screen, "make me finish harder than i just did. and i'll go anywhere with you."

"then, my love, i suggest you pack your bags." <3

[nightwingsgypsyrep]

Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

[lyjen]

Stay, stay, stay | Evan "Buck" Buckley

Summary: When Buck gets assigned to get up the ladder and put a fire out during a rain and thunderstorm, he gets struck by lightning. He’s walking around in a coma dream and has to find his way out of it to get back to his fiancée (Y/n).

Request: @shauna-carsley

<<< 9-1-1 Masterlist

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(Y/n) swung the towel over her shoulder as she turned around and made her way to the shelf to get some herbs. 

Buck, on the other hand, placed his foot into the last step of the staircase as he scanned the environment. When he saw his fiancée cooking in the open kitchen, he smiled and made his way over. 

“So.. did I hear you right earlier or are you actually about to serve the team your so-called ‘experimental pasta bake of doom’ for dinner?” he asked as his smile morphed into a playful grin on his face. 

He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms as he waited for her to answer. (Y/n) chuckled and threw him a side-eye as she stood on her toes to reach the herbs she needed. When she caught the herbs she closed the cabinet and turned back around to the stove. 

“First of all, it’s not the ‘pasta bake of doom.’ It's just pasta with a little creative touch. Second, aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the truck or something instead of bugging the chef?” she said as she shook the little container to add it to the pot. 

Buck shrugged his shoulders as he moved to the kitchen island where the stove was, and (Y/n) was working on her dish. “I finished, so now I’m on ‘supervision duty.” He answered her question. “You know, just making sure you don’t set the firehouse on fire. Again” he continued as he placed his right hand on the counter and tried to get her to look at him.

She grabbed the wooden spoon that was in the pot and started to stir. “That was one time! And it wasn’t even my fault- the oven malfunctioned.” She told him as she felt the eyes burning into her skin even more. 

But before Buck could even come back with an answer, Chimney passed by with a smirk on his face. “Pretty sure it was malfunctioning because someone put too much cheese on their lasagna.” He said as he kept on moving. 

Buck his eyes grew wide at the reaction, he pointed his finger out at Chimney. “See? It’s not just me who remembers.” Buck said as he turned back towards (Y/n). 

(Y/n) stopped stirring as she gave Chimney a look that said really? She glared at both of them. “You two better shut up or I’ll accidentally forget to make enough for either of you.” 

In the distance a small laugh came from the dining table where Eddie was sitting, his phone was in his hand but his eyes were locked on the conversation between the two. “Really brave, Buck. You keep poking at the person in charge of our  food today. Bold strategy.” Eddie chimed in. 

(Y/n) let out a small sigh  as Buck didn’t drop the conversation, she tapped the remaining sauce off the spoon, back into the pot. Maybe she wasn’t the best chef, and maybe she did almost burn this place down. But at least she was trying? That must’ve meant something, right? 

Buck didn’t even bother to react to Eddie’s comment as the grin on his face grew wider. “I’m just saying, if this pasta bake ends up being a total disaster, the entire firehouse is going to blame me for not stopping it.”

She tapped the spoon one last time on the brim of the pot as she pointed the wooden spoon at him. “You should be blamed- for being annoying, not helpful.” she said as she let the spoon move in between them, almost letting it look like a threat.

A small grin appeared on her face as she locked eyes with Buck, he was just teasing her. They both went silent for a moment as they just looked at each other. Until a voice interrupted the moment. “What’s going on here?” 

Bobby walked in with a clipboard in his hands and one eyebrow raised at the sudden silence. “Nothing, Buck was just on his way to leave the kitchen. He’s officially banned from the kitchen, he’s already on his fifth snarky comment and dinner isn’t even ready yet.” she said as she stood across Buck, switching looks between Bobby and her soon to be husband. 

Buck glanced over his shoulder as he held up his hand in defense. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking! Someone’s got to make sure this meal doesn’t turn into a second alarm.” he said as he looked at Bobby. 

And then a familiar sound roared through the entire firehouse, but it wasn't the fire alarm Buck was talking about. 

“Engine 118, truck 118, ambulance 118, structure fire, MacArthur Park Apartments“  The alarm sounded through the house. 

“Okay, one eighteen let’s go!” Bobby said as all the people on the loft dropped what they were doing and stood up to make their way towards the rigs. 

Everyone except for (Y/n).

She was actually on light duty because during her morning run a few days ago, she twisted her ankle. 

She didn’t even know how it happened. It just.. happened. She tried to walk it off, but when she returned home and Buck saw her stumbling while entering the house, he sighed. She always had been kind of clumsy. 

Anyways, walking was still difficult, she could walk but every step hurted. And since it would only slow down the team more than actually help, Bobby had decided that it was best for her and the team to put her on light duty. 

So here she was, trying to make dinner. While the alarm zoomed through the house. (Y/n) watched her friends and colleagues leave the loft, making their way towards the rigs as Buck took another second to look at his fiancée. Buck scanned the scene, he knew no one was waiting for the two of them to be close.. especially on shift. 

But no one except the two of them were on the loft right now. “See you in a bit” Buck said as (Y/n) had already continued to stir the sauce, facing the stove. He pressed his warm lips quickly against her cheek. “Be careful” she told him as he was already making his way towards the stairs. “Oh and don’t do anything stupid!” she added, sounding a little louder now. 

Buck turned around as he continued walking backwards, that same grin as before was written all over his face. “Have you met me?” he said, his grin turning into a small smile as he sent her a fast wink and turned back around speeding down the stairs. 

She didn’t know how long this call was going to take. It was a structure fire, it could take an hour, or it could take four hours, or even six. She decided to just try and finish the dish, so she could reheat it when her team came back from the call. 

-

Buck watched the rain splatter against the windows of the rig as they were making their way towards the structure fire. It was silence on the rig, as everyone was trying to get into focus. The only thing sounding through their headphones was the thunder roaring over Los Angeles. 

The truck pulled to a stop, not even a second later Buck and the rest of the team were stepping out of the rigs. Buck stepped out of the vehicle, feeling the puddle with water splash against his boots. 

“Okay, Hendrix, Meyers, Perez!” Bobby’s voice sounded over the scene, trying to be louder than the rain that was coming down like the gods were mad. The team followed Bobby as he started shouting orders to specific people. “Start evacuating the building!” he continued as he pointed to the building that was on fire with his hand. 

“Chimney, Buck, Eddie.” Bobby pointed at the right people, “You guys are on ladder duty.” He added as the three of them nodded at his words. “I want you to get up to that window and hit it. Let’s go!” the captain continued as he pointed his index finger to the right window. “Copy that cap!”

Not even three minutes later, Eddie was already turning and extending the aerial to the assigned window. With a ladder belt secured around his waist, Buck made his way back to the top of the truck where Chimney was waiting to go up the ladder. The tip of the hose set was hanging over his shoulder as he watched Eddie extend the aerial. 

“Hey. Where do you think you’re going? I got this.” Chimney said as he saw Buck climbing on top of the truck with the ladder belt secured around his waist. “No way, you got the last one.” Buck answered as a soft grunt fell from his mouth and made his way to the start of the ladder. 

Chim squinted his eyes at the rain that was pouring and hitting his face. “Didn’t realize you were keeping track,” he said. Making Buck grin “Come on, Chim, it’s me. I’m always keeping track.” Buck said with enthusiasm in his voice. 

These were the things he loved doing on the job. 

Eddie grinned at the conversation, grabbing the hook and securing Buck to the line, so if something went wrong he wouldn’t fall to his death. 

“Alright, cowboy, go get ‘em.” Eddie said, as Buck accepted the line Chimney was holding out to him. “Alright” he said, as he carefully made his way up the aerial. 

In his left hand he held the hose line and he used his right hand to climb up the ladder. The mix of people’s voices and sirens were filling his eardrums as he finally reached the top of the ladder. 

With his heart beating in his chest, he turned the hose line on and started to aim for the window Bobby had mentioned earlier.  

Where Buck could hear voices from below the ladder earlier, that sound faded away as some electrical buzz took over the scene. It almost sounded like an electricity pole was damaged, but it didn’t come from below him. Whatever he was hearing was from above. 

“The hell is that?” he asked himself. Buck looked above him, fully facing the rain that was still pouring down. But he couldn’t find a source, so he just continued doing his job. It didn’t take five seconds, or there was a flash of white covering Buck’s entire vision. 

The lightning hit his body. And he felt it, everywhere. 

Bobby’s eyes were locked onto the person who was on top of that ladder. But his heart dropped the second he saw what was happening right in front of his eyes. He could hear a loud scream and then Buck’s body tumbled over the edge of the ladder, his body now hanging on to the line that was secured to the ladder belt he was wearing. 

Eddie fell onto the ground after the bolt had struck just near him. He grunted at the pain in his back when it had met the ground. He rolled to his side, as he got onto his knees and hands to reach for his helmet that had prevented him from hitting his head on the asphalt. 

He pressed one hand onto the ground as he pushed himself off the ground and back onto two legs. He pressed his helmet back onto his head as was on his way to climb back onto the truck, not really knowing what had happened. But the moment he was climbing the ladder to get on top of the truck, towards the control panel of the aerial, he looked to his right. 

His best friend was floating in the air, lifeless. 

His eyes widened at the sight, “Buck!” he screamed out. Without thinking, Eddie hurried up the ladder. The steps were wet, making him almost slip now and then, but he didn’t care. He needed to help his teammate, his colleague. 

“Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Captain Nash, 118. We have a firefighter down at the MacArthur Park Apartment fire. Need additional task force and rescue immediately.” Bobby’s voice sounded over the radio as Eddie called out for his best friend, hoping for some kind of reaction. 

It was horrible, seeing him hanging like that. 

In the meanwhile when Eddie had finally reached the top of the ladder, he tried to pull him up. But pulling up someone who was unconscious was impossible. “Can you hear me? Buck!” he called out, but calling out his name was more for a cry for help than to get him to wake up. The water from the hose line was still spraying down, Eddie didn’t even bother to turn it off. He only had one goal, and that was trying to get Buck down to an ambulance.

If he couldn’t pull Buck up, they had to lower him down. Chimney had taken place down the ladder, ready to help. “We need more slack!” Eddie called out on the top of his lungs. “More slack coming up!” Chimney yelled back. Eddie groaned as he gently let the rope slide through his fingers, and watched Buck’s body being lowered down to the ground where Bobby was. He was commanding Hen to get the ambulance as close as possible. They couldn’t waste a second. 

Buck’s body was almost down at the ground again. Bobby grabbed his feet and turned him so he could be laid down onto the gurney easily. “Come here kid” Bobby’s voice was filled with worry. He put his arm on his back, “I got him, I got him!” he said. He wasn’t sure if he was telling the team, or if he was soothing himself with those words. 

“Okay bring that gurney over here, let’s go!” Bobby commanded his paramedics. 

“I need the lifepak!” Chimney shouted through Bobby’s orders to hurry up. They needed to do something, he was up there for way too long. The entire team was helping Buck onto the gurney which was being flooded with water the second it came out of the ambulance. 

“Let’s get the lifepak on!” Chimney continued as they disconnected Buck from the line he was still attached to. Hen gently took off Buck’s helmet, as they opened his turnout coat. and cut through his uniform to get to his chest. “No pulse.” Hen said as she held her fingers to his neck to check his pulse.While, the worry in her voice almost turned into panic mode. 

“Get that lifepak ready!” Chimney now shouted. But the second he got handed the lifepak, Hen spoke up. “It doesn’t make sense to shock him. He’s in full cardiac arrest!” she said as she looked over at her partner, and towards Buck’s bare chest thinking of what to do. 

“I’m starting compressions, get that lifepak off!” Hen’s partner now said, as he climbed on top of the gurney, pressing his hands deep into Buck’s chest. “Come on Buck! Come on!” Chimney’s voice said as he tried to get his brother-in-law’s heart beating again. “Come on man! You can’t leave (Y/n)!” he continued shouting, hoping those words would get him back to reality. 

“Alright Chim! Chim, we've got to move!” Bobby ordered Chimney, but he was so determined to get him back, words around him weren’t coming through. It wasn’t until Hen gave him a small push, that he realized he needed to get off the gurney. 

“Dispatch, this is Captain 118. We have a firefighter down, struck by lightning, unresponsive, three minutes out.”

______

(Y/n) arrived through the emergency entrance of the hospital. Desperately looking for someone she knew, and could tell her what the hell had happened on that call. Her hair was soaking wet, she didn’t even bother to grab a jacket when she ran outside towards her car. She didn’t care if she’d catch a cold. That was the least of her worries at the moment. 

“Wha..- What the hell happened?” (Y/n) gasped as she stumbled into the waiting room. Finding a small part of her crew. Oh god, the moment she stepped through those doors it almost made her puke. They had been through too much already. But walking through those doors made her heart pound in her chest, like she had run a marathon for miles. 

She hadn’t cried at all, but walking through those doors made it seem more real to her. 

She saw Hen and Eddie turning around, Hen’s eyes were still watering and Eddie’s were red like he hadn’t slept in days. But it wasn’t the exhaustion that made his eyes that red. The second she locked eyes with Hen, (Y/n)’s eyes were still wide open in shock. Tears were stinging in her eyes as the two of them walked towards her. 

“(Y/n)...” Hen sighed, as she stood across from her with Eddie on her left side. “No…” she said as she looked at Hen. Trying to suppress the cry and the tears that were crawling up. Eddie pressed his hand to her upper arm, trying to comfort her. While she took a deep, shaky breath, trying to comfort herself too. 

But the feeling in her chest started to feel tighter within the second. Her breaths were shallow and inconsistent as panic clawed its way through her. Her vision became blurry and she grabbed the fabric of her shirt, pressing the small piece of fabric between her hands to try and get herself back. 

Her world began to spin faster and the sound of her heart was pounding like a drum in her ears. Tears were beginning to slowly stream down her face when Hen started to explain what had happened on scene. But none of the words she told her we're coming through. Everything she said was inaudible. 

“Hey, hey, (Y/n), look at me,” Hen’s calm yet commanding voice cut through the haze, pulling her attention. Her eyes were locked onto Hen now, “Breathe with me, okay?” her voice said. 

(Y/n) shook her head, as more tears streamed down her face. “I... I can’t... I can’t breathe.” 

“Yes, you can. I’m right here with you. We are right here with you.” Hen said softly, as she looked at Eddie and back at (Y/n), gently placing her hands on (Y/n)’s shoulders. “In through your nose for four, out through your mouth for four. Let’s do it together. Ready?”

Hen took a breath in, holding up four fingers as she inhaled. (Y/n) struggled but copied her action, shaky and uneven. Hen’s fingers slowly counted down from four to one, guiding her through it again.

“That’s it. You’re doing great. Just one breath at a time.” She coached her. 

Slowly, (Y/n)’s breathing began to steady, the panic loosening its grip. Hen kept her focus on (Y/n) “There you go. See? You’ve got this,” Hen said with a reassuring smile, squeezing (Y/n)’s shoulder. 

Tears rolled down (Y/n)’s cheeks, but she nodded, a small sense of control returning. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raw. “Always,” Hen replied, as she guided her to take a seat in one of the hospital waiting room chairs. Eddie and Hen both took a seat beside her, trying to comfort her as they waited for some news. 

“He’s going to be okay” Hen said, placing her hand onto her shoulder as she gave it a soft, gentle, squeeze. 

• Buck’s coma dream

“People have been dropping off food all day.” Margaret said as she proudly looked around the apartment of Buck. Pointing at the flowers and the cards he had received over the days he had been in the hospital. 

“And oh, your kids.. ” Wait, did he hear that right? Was he a father? Did he have kids with (Y/n) in whatever this was? His eyes grew wide, filled with hope as she said those words. He cleared his throat, “I- Um..- Kids?” he stumbled. 

Margaret smiled and nodded at his short question, “yes, your students.” she answered with a duh tone in her voice. Like he had to know what she was talking about. But when the word “kids” fell off his mother’s lips, all he could think about was: where was his fiancée? 

His eyebrows furrowed at her latest words, students? What was she talking about? He was a firefighter, right? What students was she talking about? “What?” he asked his mother with a confused look all over his face. But when his mother wanted to answer his question, he threw another question at her.

“Wait.. Where’s (Y/n)?” he then asked. Looking around the apartment for any clues. What kind of future, dream, universe was he in? He had so many questions floating through his mind right now. 

His mother was looking at him in confusion, “What are you talking about? Who is (Y/n)?” Margaret asked as she followed her son’s eyes, desperately searching the cabinets and shelves that were in the apartment from a distance. 

“My girl, my fiancée? Where is she?” Buck asked. Why didn’t anyone recognize her name? They knew about her, and how much he loved her. Why wasn’t anyone telling him where she was. Were they playing some kind of weird mind game with him? 

“How hard did you hit your head when you made that fall?” Phillip chimed in then. A feeling of annoyance slowly entered his body. “What? I-” he stumbled, but before he could even think of a proper something to say, his dad turned to Daniel. 

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Phillip asked his eldest, with a drink in his hand. Daniel sighed as he opened the fridge and grabbed a beer out of it as he read the label. “Yeah, why do you keep doubting me?” Daniel answered as he closed the fridge then again. “It’s not like I'm a doctor or anything.” He continued, with his eyes still burned onto the label of the beer and he made his way towards the living room part of the apartment. 

As Daniel and Phillip walk towards the couch, Buck’s eyes were locked onto the two of them. But then his attention was caught by something else. A sparkly, golden, 3D model of a ferris wheel was on one of the cabinets in his apartment. 

Determined, he walked towards the cabinet, standing in front of the ferris wheel as he let his fingers trace over the model. “What’s this?” he asked his mother who was following his steps. 

“No Idea. It doesn’t go with anything else I picked out.” Margaret answered his question. 

Only the thought of a ferris wheel made his mind go back to one of the worst days of Buck’s life. His fingers traced over the golden ferris wheel parts, as his eyes were locked onto the piece of decoration. 

The room around him seems to fade away. The sound of the television in the living room playing, and his family members communicating, it all dissolved into the deafening roar of rushing water. 

He was back on the pier. 

The sky was clear and blue, the sun’s reflection was shimmering off the ocean’s surface. Within the snap of a finger, the water retreated, a silent inhale before it’d drown Los Angeles. 

Buck lifted Christopher over his shoulder as he grabbed (Y/n)’s hand who was still staring at what ever the fuck was happening with the ocean. “(Y/n)! Come on!” he yelled as he roughly pulled her with him towards land again. 

He sees (Y/n). Terror in her eyes. Her hand slipping from Buck’s grip as the wave rips them apart.

“(Y/n)!” Buck gasps, his breath hitching. (Y/n) was fighting the water to keep her head up and above the water, but the waves were too strong. He can still feel the water closing in, pulling him under, tossing him through the wreckage. His lungs burn. His muscles scream. (Y/n)’s horrifying scream went through his marrow and bones again, like it did every time he thought back of that day. 

The memories crash into him like the waves did that day. 

“But if you like it, I love it.” His mom touching his shoulder and upper arm yanks him back to the conversation he was having with his mom. His chest heaves as he blinks, the 3D model of a ferris wheel coming back into focus. The sound of water is gone. The scream of (Y/n) still sounding faded in the back of his head. 

• Reality

(Y/n) walked those awful grey and white hospital hallways. She kept her head low, looking down at the ground as she didn’t know what to do with herself. (Y/n) didn’t know how to feel, there were so many emotions rushing through her body.

 She took another turn to the left, Chimney and Bobby came into her view. They were standing in front of one of the windows, looking into the room Buck was being placed in. 

“Hey.” she said, her tone worried. “What do we know?” she asked the two men in front of her who were slowly turning towards (Y/n) now.

“Not much, He’s alive. In critical condition. They had to put him into a medically induced coma to allow his body to rest and recover. The next twenty four hours are going to be crucial.” Bobby said, surprisingly calm. 

She didn’t want to even glance through the window. If she’d do that, things would be real. But it wasn’t a dream. If this was a dream, this would be the definition of a nightmare. But all the times she had pinched herself, wasn’t enough. She sighed as she finally found the courage to look through the window. 

Slowly she let her eyes wander to the bed Buck was lying on. This would be one of the moments that’d hunt her forever, the picture would be burned into her brain. She squeezed her eyes closed and bit her lower lip. It was real. 

She took another shaky breath, opening her eyes once more. Scanning the environment. “He’s on life support. Breathing with the help of a ventilator?” (Y/n) said, but it sounded more like a question. 

“The lightning strike was literally a shock to his system. Sent him into cardiac arrest.” Bobby explained the situation as (Y/n)’s eyes were only locked onto her fiancée who was hooked up to all those different machines. 

But Bobby’s explanation was interrupted by a soft sound of a ringtone. Bobby quickly fished his phone from his pocket as he read the caller-ID. “Oh- I’m sorry I have to take this..” he said, excusing himself as he walked away and pressed the phone to his ear. 

Chim took place next to (Y/n) who was still looking through the window. Chimney didn’t say anything as he joined her looking through the window. He gave her some time to just look in peace. There was already so much information coming towards her. 

“It’s so weird.. an hour ago he was up and jumping through the station with his jokes. And now, he’s in there.. hooked up to whatever machines to stay alive.” 

Chimney swallowed, his jaw tightening. “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, raw with disbelief. “One second he’s making fun of your cooking skills, the next he’s—” He gestured toward the room, as if that explained everything. As if it ever could.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. (Y/n) bit her lip, her gaze tracing the pale face of the man lying in the hospital bed. He looked so still. So unlike Buck.

“He’s gonna wake up,” Chimney said suddenly, more to himself than anything. “He has to.” he added as he looked to his left, looking at (Y/n) who was trying to suppress her emotions.

(Y/n) didn’t answer right away. Their throat burned, emotions threatening to spill over. Finally, they nodded, forcing a small, fragile smile.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “He has to.”

And yet, as they stood there, watching Buck fight the battle they couldn’t help him with. All they could do was wait.

• Buck’s coma dream

After Buck had finally convinced coma dream Chimney that he actually knew him, he was hanging with him at the kitchen island. Chimney opened the fridge as he placed a bottle of beer right in front of him. “The last thing I remember is: we were at this apartment fire. It was raining. I went up the ladder and… there was a giant flash.” Buck was going over his thoughts once again. He pushes himself up and he opens the bottle of beer.

“Sounds like you were struck by lightning.” Chimney said, looking at Buck who was starting to pace through the room. “Yeah but, I don’t think I’m dead. It feels like some kind of coma dream.” Buck answered. But just as he turned around and started his first steps of pacing around the apartment..

His eyes fell onto the dining table of Chimney’s apartment. A miniature fire truck was lying on his side on the table. “What the…-” he stumbled, as the memories flashed before his eyes.

Within’ a blink of an eye he was lying on the ground. His hands pressed onto the asphalt beneath him as his left foot was in an odd angle. 

His ears were ringing, his eyes were trying to adjust to what ever the hell just had happened. His vision was blurry, and changing from red to yellow-ish every second. Buck’s hand brushed over the asphalt as he tried to scan the scene he was in. 

The glass windshield of the truck broke, and fell onto the ground. Sending an awful, horrible pain through his leg, making Buck grunt. 

Everything hurt. His head. his legs. his back. Even breathing hurted. 

Buck really didn’t really get whatever was happening. There was this boy, holding some kind of deadman trigger. He kept on wandering around, screaming something. But Buck’s ears were still ringing, so the voices sounded dull to him. 

Suddenly, Bobby was there. His hands in the air, slowly making his way towards the young boy as Buck himself kept fighting to keep his eyes open, and push himself up. Buck couldn’t really register what was happening. He only knew his leg hurted, his head was pounding like it was going to explode any second now. 

Then, Hen, Eddie and Chimney came rushing over towards him. “You’re still with us Buck?” Chimney asked, but he didn’t answer his question.  Hen placed a medic bag next to him as they began to access him. “Buck, how are we doing?” she asked as she dug through the bag. “Kind of numb.” he answered with a trembling voice. But was the only thing that basically could come out of his mouth. 

While Hen, Eddie and Chimney were diagnosing him and tried to give him first aid, he was only searching for her. “Buck!” (Y/n)’s voice, high and strained, cuts through the chaos. His head jerked up, searching for her, and there she was..

Held back by Bobby, his strong grip kept her from entering the scene, away from Buck. Her eyes were wide and in panic mode. 

“Let me help!” she cries, trying to push past Bobby who was in civilian clothes, but he shakes his head. “No. They’ve got this. You need to stay back.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for argument, but she didn’t care.

“That’s my boyfriend!” she snaps, fighting against his hold. “I can’t just—just stand here!” she cried.

He wanted to tell her it’s okay, that he got this, but the truth was, he didn't. The pain in his leg was unbearable, and he didn’t know if he could keep it together much longer.

“Hang in there Buck” Hen’s voice cuts through the noise. Buck’s breath is coming too fast. The edges of my vision blur. The pain is worse than anything he had ever felt, like his leg is being ground into dust. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the pain. Every firefighter on scene was coming together, getting ready to tilt this truck off his leg. But then his eyes snapped open. And suddenly (Y/n) is there, right in front of him. Bobby had let her go. Or maybe she fought him off, he didn’t know. All he knew was the fact that she was in front of him, holding his arms, ready to slide him from underneath if she could. 

“I’m here,” she breathes, her voice shaking but determined. “Y-Y/N,” he managed, his voice was raw. She shook her head quickly, brushing damp hair from his forehead “Yeah, baby. I’m right here. Just hold on, okay?” she said softly, as she looked to the people who were ready to lift the truck. 

The metal groans as the team works to lift the truck. A rush of hope rushed through his veins, only to be crushed under another wave of agony as the pressure on his leg shifts. A scream leaving Buck’s lips before he could stop himself. His entire body was trembling.  

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” she whispered softly, her thumb brushing over his arms as a attempt to soothe him. 

He was looking at the miniature truck between his fingers. Chimney had been in a coma when that rebar went through his head years ago. Maybe he knew something about coma dreams. With those thoughts, he placed the miniature truck back onto the table and turned around. 

“Okay so, when you were in your coma, what do you remember?” he asked, as he slowly walked back towards the kitchen island Chimney was leaning against. “Nothing” Chimney answered. This was so not helpful. “How long have you been walking around in this coma?” Chimney asked now. 

He shrugged his shoulders, “Uh, I don’t know. Time is weird. Maybe two days?” he guessed. “Wait, you've been walking around in an alternative universe for two days and now you’re just now starting to ask questions?” Chimney asked as he pushed himself from leaning on the kitchen island and started walking towards Buck now. 

“It was kinda nice at first, until I asked my family about (Y/n)...” he told Chimney. But if his family didn’t know (Y/n).. Maybe Chimney would, right? “Wait, you know her right?” Buck asked before Chimney could react to his words. 

Chimney took a moment to think, repeating her name multiple times as he looked to the ceiling. “No, I don’t think I do..” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line and shaking his head. 

The panic was rising in his chest, but maybe he needed a wake up call. “You know, always hanging around the firehouse, always laughing at my dumb jokes.” he tried to help him remember. But he shook his head again. “Buck, I swear, I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Chim said. 

“You have to know her! She’s your colleague, friend, she’s my fiancée for god sake!” A mix of panic, stress and desperation filled his voice. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard that name before,” he said. 

No. No, this wasn’t right. (Y/n) was real. He could still hear their voice, still feel their touch. Why didn’t anyone recognize that name? 

Buck’s throat tightened. His chest heaved as he stared at his friend, searching his face for any sign that this was some twisted joke. But Chimney looked genuinely confused. His hands dug into his hair as the walls closed in. His lungs burned.

With his hands in his hair, he felt his heart pound in his chest, trying to break free. His ears started pounding as his airways closed off. 

He pressed a flat hand on his chest, as he tried to take a breath. But his lungs weren’t working. “Wow, hey, hey, hey!” “Are you okay?” Chimney asked as he saw Buck was having trouble getting air. 

Buck grabs his throat, as a sign that he couldn’t. Blood was rushing towards his head, making it red as he gasped for air. Buck’s eyes became blurry as he tried to keep his balance by holding on to the kitchen island. But he fell down to his knees. “Try to calm down! Try to breathe!”  

• Reality

It has been two days since the accident. And to be honest, (Y/n) hasn’t left this room ever since. Only to use the restroom, get some food or drinks. But most of the time she didn’t have to, because if there was someone who came to visit Buck, they brought something for (Y/n). 

The door was closed, but (Y/n) was sitting across from Buck in some kind of “lazy” hospital chair. She wouldn’t do anything except looking at him, keeping an eye on the machines he was hooked up on, and just watching him breathe. The constant beeping of the machines would sometimes make her fall asleep, like right now. 

“Hey” Chimney said as he walked through the hallway, aiming for Maddie who was looking through the window. “Shouldn’t you be inside with your brother?” he continued. Maddie shook her head, Chimney stopped beside her and followed her eyes letting out a soft sigh. 

(Y/n) was sleeping, her head leaning onto her hand that was placed onto the armrest of the chair. “How long has she been in there?” Maddie asked Chimney, since he got more updates from his crew. “She hasn't left.” Chimney answered her question. Tears were burning in Maddie’s eyes as she looked at the two in the room. 

Maddie had given (Y/n) a new set of clothes on the day it happened. She had hoped (Y/n) would’ve gone home every now and then, but the girl was determined. She had to be there when he woke up. 

The constant beeps switched, they became more and more within the second. (Y/n)’s eyes shot open, like she felt something was wrong. Her eyes shot from Buck’s body right towards the machines. In shock she watched the machines. The words “Lower limit warning” lit up in one of the screens in yellow letters. Her eyes rushed from the machine back to his body.

He was breathing like he was hyperventilating. She was alert the moment she read those words. (Y/n) pushed herself onto her feet, as she yanked the door open. “He can’t breathe!” she yelled as she was now in the grey empty hallways of the ICU. 

Tears burned in her eyes as she watched nurses suddenly dropping everything and running towards her. Everything around her became a blur as she felt two people standing next to her. Maddie’s hand was pressed onto her shoulder, trying to give (Y/n) some kind of comfort as Chimney tried to get the nurses into the room. “Hey, hey, hey! We need someone in here!” Chimney called out and pushed the door more open. 

The nurses were doing their job as (Y/n) stood in the door opening with Chimney and Maddie. Looking at whatever they were doing to help Buck. But (Y/n) couldn’t look at this. If he didn’t make it through, this wasn’t how she wanted to remember him. She turned on her heels, placing her hands on her head as she quickly blinked the tears away. 

• Buck’s coma dream

“What’s wrong with him?” Hen asked, pointing at Buck as she looked back at Chimney. 

Chimney held up his hands as he looked stressed at Buck who was still struggling with taking a single breath. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just having a panic attack.” Chimney guessed as he looked at his friend, hoping she’d know how to help him. 

Hen’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the guy in front of her. Was he for real? “Hey buddy, can you hear me?” she asked. Only receiving a nod from the complete stranger. “Buck can’t breathe.” Chimney concluded, as he watched him. 

But then, it was like the invisible hands that were tightening his airways close, let go all of the sudden. The choking had stopped, he could take a breath without any pain or difficulty. Buck let go of his chest and straightened his back, with a surprised look crossed over his face. 

Chimney and Hen looked at him in confusion. “Or maybe he’s pulling our legs. He’s fine.” Hen said as she switched looks between the two guys. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what happened. It was like all of the sudden my lungs just stopped working.” Buck apologized.  

"And now?” Hen asked as a second check. Buck stretched his arms, shaking his head as he felt nothing weird. “Uh, yeah, no.. I feel better.” he admitted. 

That still confused frown was on Hen’s face visible as she faced Chimney. “And how did this happen?” she asked him. “He was asking about (Y/n), that’s what brought this all on.” he explained, as they both looked at Buck now. 

It didn’t make sense to him. Why could no one in this silly coma dream tell him where (Y/n) was? This was his subconsciousness. He was in charge. Right? “How can it be that no one in this entire universe can’t tell me where my fiancée is?” Buck asked as he looked at both Chimney and Hen. 

Chimney just made the same face as he did a minute ago. There was no change in that. “Wait, wait, wait, that name does sound familiar to me.” Hen then said as she was thinking. 

There was a minute of silence, as a little spark of hope jumped in his chest. He gave her the space to think for a second. But after a moment, the back of Hen’s hand slapped against Chimney’s chest, hard. 

“Isn’t she that nurse from First Presbyterian?” Hen asked Chimney. Both eyes were burned on Chimney now as he was thinking. “You know? The one who’s in charge of the ER?” Hen tried to help him remember. Chimney’s eyes grew wide. “You’re right.”

-

He barged through the doors of the hospital and immediately made his way towards the ER. He knew this hospital like the back of his hand. 

“Excuse me? What are you doing?” A female voice asked him, as he pushed through the other set of swinging doors that made him enter the emergency room. 

He entered the ER, his eyes desperately searching for his girl. The lady at the desk probably was too lazy or busy to follow him and make him leave the ER. Buck only had eyes for one person only. And that’s when he saw her. 

She was smiling at one of her co-workers, that smile that made the rest of the world smile too. That smile that had him wrapped around her finger. She turned around and walked through the ER, leaving his line of sight. She was focused, busy, doing her job like nothing was wrong.

He called her name from a large distance as he watched her back walking away from him further and further. He called her name a second time as he made some speed to follow her. He called her name out even louder the third time. But she didn’t react, didn’t even glance his way.

Like she couldn’t hear him.

Frowning, he stepped closer, following her down the hallway. His pulse quickened. She wasn’t running, but she was moving fast, weaving between nurses and doctors, her attention elsewhere. But he knew a shortcut. 

Still, after a few moments, she started to look over her shoulder, like she could feel him following behind her. Like some part of her knew she was being followed.

She glanced back for a third time, and that’s when Buck made his move. Before she could take another step, he grabbed her upper arm, pulling her sharply into the nearest medicine supply closet.

A squeak left her lips as the door shut behind them. “What the hell-?” she gasped. The lights flickered on, and he saw her. She was here. It wasn’t some kind of döppelganger. It was (Y/n).

He exhaled sharply, his grip loosening around her upper arm. But he looked at her for a second, and pulled her into a crushing hug. His arms locked around her like she might disappear if he let go. 

(Y/n) froze in his embrace. “…Buck?” she said in a confused tone. But Buck shut his eyes, holding onto her tighter. “You’re okay, you’re here.” he whispered. 

She hesitated before answering, her voice careful. “Of course, I’m here.” Buck loosened his arms around her body as he looked her in her eyes again. “What are you doing here? Why are you a nurse?” he asked, his voice filled with confusion

(Y/N) met his gaze, something unreadable in her expression. Then, with the faintest smirk, she said, “You tell me. This is your dream. I’m just living in it.” she explained to him. 

His stomach dropped. “So… I’m dead,” he murmured as he let his eyes wander to the ground, his head ready to drown in his own thoughts. (Y/N) tilted her head slightly. “Close, but not quite.” 

His breath caught in his throat. “Then where am I? What is this?” He looked around the supply closet like the walls could give him an answer. “Is this… some kind of waiting room? Heaven? Hell?”

(Y/N) sighed, folding her arms as she looked at the panicked face of the guy in front of her. “You need to relax.” she told him. “Relax?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “I’ve been stuck here for days, I keep getting flashbacks to traumatizing moments of my life, apparently I’m almost dead. Forgive me if I’m having a hard time relaxing.” He started pacing down the small part of the supplies closet. 

(Y/n) gave him a knowing look before turning away. “Come here.” she said as she walked over to one of the cabinets, opening both doors. Buck watched as she pushed aside bottles of medicine and supplies, revealing something that shouldn’t have been there.

There was a window.

His heart pounded as he stepped forward, through the glass he could see himself. He was lying in a hospital bed, intubated. Unmoving. Machines hooked up to him, beeping softly.

Bobby was there, his hand holding on tight to the rosary beads like it was his only lifeline. Also (Y/n) was there. The real her. Sitting at his bedside, her hands clasped together like she had been praying. 

The air in Buck’s lungs vanished at the image in front of him. 

In shock he watched the three people in the room. “What the hell is this?” Buck asked the (Y/n) who was standing beside him. He glanced to his right, waiting for her to answer. She met his eyes, blinking away the tears that were stinging in her eyes. “Well, Evan Buckley, that right there is reality, whatever is happening on this side is your deep dark subconscious.” she explained. 

The way she said his name made his heart skip a beat. She never called him Evan, only when she wanted to mess with him, but she surely never used his full name. 

Buck’s eyes wandered back to watch the scene in front of him. “Do you know what’s happening to me in there?” he asked. (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders, “Well, it depends on how you look at it. You could be dying or fighting for your life. But it’s kinda up to you.” she answered. Although that didn’t really answer his question. 

At that moment, Bobby stood up from his seat. He walked towards (Y/n) and gave her a hug, as Buck’s parents and sister entered the room, following a doctor. 

“W-what is happening?” Buck asks as panic was rising in his chest and voice. But (Y/n) didn’t answer as she just watched the scene in front of her. “What is happening!?” he asked again. 

But as he looked to his right, (Y/n) was gone. And a döppelganger of himself in a doctor's jacket was standing right next to him. He looked him up and down in shock. “Looks like they’re pulling the plug, Evan.” he said. Before he could even answer for himself, the doctor “him” cut him off. “They don’t care about you. You’re not good enough, you never have been.” he said. 

Buck looked at his döppelganger in shock, as he tried to figure things out. “This is all happening inside my head, which means I've been talking to myself the whole time.” He clarified to himself. “I don’t have to feel bad about not listening to you anymore.” He added as he shoved all the aside bottles of medicine and supplies off the shelves in front of the window. 

The döppelganger watched him with a smirk on his face. “What are you doing?” he said, cocky. “I have to get back! I’m running out of time!” The panic was written all over his face as he yanked all bottles and other supplies off the shelves, and moved the shelves from the window. “It’s impossible, there’s no way back there. You’re stuck with me.” The döppelganger claimed. 

“It’s not impossible! There’s not a locked room anywhere that, with the right tools and enough time, you can’t break into. I know that.” Buck told his subconsciousness. But he could hear a chuckle coming from the other him. 

He walked determined to the side of the room as he took a fire axe out of the red box. “There’s nothing for you in that room. No one in there needs you.” Döppelganger Buck said then, with that same stupid grin on his face. But instead of looking him in the eye, he watched the scene, there’s enough hurt in that room. (Y/n) hasn’t stopped crying since he laid eyes on the window, Bobby was praying with his rosary beads, and if he did that, it must’ve been bad. He wasn’t the only one hurting. 

“Keep telling that to yourself.” he said, and yanked the fire axe through the window. 

______

The first thing Buck felt was warmth. A gentle pressure against his hand. Steady. Familiar. Then, muffled voices entered his ears. The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. The scent of antiseptic and something softer… vanilla? No… coconut.

It was (Y/n).

His eyelids felt heavy, but he forced them open. The hospital lights were too bright, but they weren’t what held his focus. It was her.

Curled up in the chair beside his bed, her head resting against their joined hands, fingers wrapped around his like she had been holding on for dear life. His throat felt like sandpaper, his voice hoarse. “(Y/n)…” he managed to get out. 

She stirred instantly, her fingers twitching against his. Her eyes fluttered open, sleepy and dazed until her eyes landed on his. She froze. Her breath hitched.

“Buck?” Her voice cracked as she shot up, eyes wide with disbelief. A slow, tired smile tugged at Buck’s lips. “Hey.”

A strangled noise left her throat half a sob, half a laugh before she lunged forward, throwing herself into his arms. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her body molding against his like she belonged there. He could feel her shaking, feel the way her breath hitched against his shoulder.

“Easy,” he croaked, though he had no complaints about being tackled with this much affection. (Y/n) pulled back to look at him, placing both her hands onto his cheeks, cupping his face. “You’re awake.” she whispered, tears spilling freely now.

Buck blinked up at her, brushing his thumb weakly against her hand. “Told you I’d see you in a bit.”

She let out a breathless, watery laugh, pressing her forehead to his. “You idiot,” she muttered. “You scared the shit out of me.” she said. His heart ached at the exhaustion on her face, the dark circles under her eyes, the tension still in her shoulders.

“How long have you been here?” he asked. She swallowed hard, running her fingers through his hair like she couldn’t believe he was real. “Since the moment you got here,” she admitted softly. “I never left. Except to use the restroom.” She cried. “And even then, I made Bobby stand guard.”

Buck’s chest ached, not from the coma, not from the accident but from the fact that she had stayed. She had never given up on him.

“Fiancée of the year,” he said, squeezing her hand weakly. (Y/N) let out a choked laugh, shaking her head as she placed a free hand onto his cheek again, rubbing her thumb against his skin. “Yeah, well, I kinda love you, so.” 

His eyebrows shot up and his lips twitched. “Kinda?” She exhaled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Shut up”

Her fingers brushed against his forehead gently, her thumb smoothing over his cheek. Her expression softened. “You shouldn’t be talking this much,” she told him. “You just woke up.” she continued. 

“I have a lot to say.” He then said. “And you can say it later,” she said firmly, already reaching for the call button. “I need to get a nurse-” she groaned. 

His hand shot up, slower than usual, and weaker than he liked but enough to stop her. Her breath caught as he intertwined their fingers again, holding her there. “Stay,” he whispered.

(Y/n) hesitated, her worry flickering between her brows. But one look at him and she melted. She squeezed his hand and leaned in, her lips brushing against his temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Buck sighed in relief, his eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion started creeping in. “Good,” he murmured sleepily. “Wanna marry you first.” he admitted. (Y/n) let out a breathless laugh, brushing her fingers through his hair again. “We will… when you’re out of the hospital.” she whispered. Buck sent her a small smile and as Buck drifted off again he knew, without a doubt, that he had made it back exactly where he belonged.

Home.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

<<< 9-1-1 Masterlist

[revelboo]

Your Hound and Trailbreaker fics are making me smile so much! It’s always a delight to see them! I wonder if any of the humans on the Ark have tried to make a break for it? Only to get into trouble out in the wilderness and have to be rescued for real 😂

Hound and Teeb’s humans are making an escape attempt

Too Tired To Wink Pt 3

Trailbreaker x Reader

• Is he sleeping? Do giant, alien robot monsters sleep? His visor had gone dim about an hour or so ago, cheek on his outstretched arm and mouth hanging open. Looks asleep. Back pressed to the wall, you creep along it. Most of his bulk is sprawled out on the floor where he’d trapped you under his berth and trying to coax you out. Moving slowly past his servos, you’re afraid to even breathe in case you wake him up. No real plan aside from reaching the vent set into the wall that’s low enough to be accessible. The slots in it big enough to squeeze through. Hopefully.

• Vents clearing noisily at a soft rustling, his head lifts and for a moment he can’t figure out why he’s lying on the floor of his habsuite. Then he does remember when he hears you break into a run. Because you’re not under the berth anymore, you’re sprinting like your life depends on it and he lunges after you. “Wait!” You don’t even look back, throwing yourself at the grate covering a vent and wiggling through the slots as his spark constricts. Trying to hook his servos against the edges and pry the thing loose as he hears you running deeper inside. “That’s dangerous!” And he yanks the grate loose and lays flat to see inside, but you’re out of sight already.

• Running headlong, you round a bend and shriek when the floor just slopes sharply and you fall to go sliding. Coming to a stop when you hit something that falls on you and yelps at the bottom. Frantically clawing to get away, because you can’t see anything and someone kicks you in the gut. And when you hear the terrified swearing, you start laughing. “Great minds think alike,” you manage as you struggle to fend off your idiot coworker before they try to punch you in the face in their panic.

• Venting tiredly, he mass shifts and still has to bend low to fit through the gap. Wishes he knew the layout of the ventilation system or had time to pull it up, but you’re likely to get yourself hurt while he’s researching. And he’s always been more of an action over planning type. Wonders how well humans can see in the dark as he hears an echoing shriek. Not very well, he bets. Plating scraping the top of the vent, he makes his way forward in an awkward shuffle.

• Finding out your work bestie has been in the vents wandering aimlessly for hours according to their estimate isn’t exactly reassuring. It’s pitch inside, though occasionally there’s a tiny amount of light from a grate and they linger long enough to try and check if anyone is around. Because if they can get out of the vents and into whatever alien central is, they can try to find an open door and run outside. Hopefully. You know that’s a long shot as you trail after your buddy and stop short at a faint cry. Your friend turning to urgently wave you over, a finger pressed to their lips as you join them in peering through the slots. Realizing this vent is much higher up than yours had been and there’s a smaller blue and red alien. And a human. And they’re-oh. Clapping a hand over your mouth as the bot groans, hips pumping and his human begins urging him on. And you can’t breathe as you fight the urge to just start cackling and give yourself away. Because what the hell? At least with yours he’s too big to have nabbed you for that. Though that person seems to be having a hell of a time from the sound of it.

Previous

[a-wild-opinion]

I think a lot about the fact that the kindness of strangers has bailed me out more times than I can count. When I first started driving I didn't have any expendable income and I knocked down an old guy's mailbox, I was crying because I knew just how much it would set me back and he looked at me, and looked at the knocked over mailbox and said "nah, don't worry about it, this happens at least once every couple of years and you're the first person to stop and fess up to it."

When I got my first debit card they started locking it for EVERY purchase, bought something on Amazon? Locked. Bought something on Nintendo? Locked, bought something from subway? Locked. I went to sonic one night and tried to buy some food, I thought the kiosk wasn't working because they almost never do, after a while I realized my card was locked and the banks were closed and couldn't unlock my card til the morning. The carhop went and paid for my food, [don't worry I paid her back with a very generous tip.]

But oddly enough the guy I think about the most is the man with no name. When I was out biking one hot summer day I met this guy, middle aged, he talked to me about my vibrant pink hair, he said how much his daughters loved dying their hair, he just sat there and talked to me in front of QuikTrip, he just radiated joy, he only ever introduced himself as the man with no name.

Also there was this guy on a penny farthing, when I asked him if it was hard to ride he just said "hell nah!"

[howaboutalittleeffort]

To The Rescue

Mommy: Help is on the way!

Alizabeth had sent that text message nearly thirty minutes ago, thirty minutes that seemed eternal for Jamie, who anxiously waited in a locked public bathroom. Thirty minutes of waiting in his current soaked state. Thirty minutes of trying not to remember Alizabeth’s concern that morning about him not being ready for the responsibility of training pants while out on his own. Thirty minutes of the ever-increasing noise from what he could only hope was a small line of others waiting for his exit.

“Excuse me, may I squeeze by?” His stomach dropped when the voice he heard was not that of Alizabeth but of Becca. Who, since the surprised unveiling of his big baby status a few weeks back, had gone from his lifelong best friend to a glorified babysitter, a role she all too often seemed overly eager to fulfill.

“You in there, Jamie? It’s Auntie Becca; mind opening the door?” Becca, not known for her ability to use an inside voice, kept true to her raucous nature even now, alerting the small shop to who she and Jamie both were.

Jamie, wanting to avoid further embarrassment and the disclosure of her personal information, unlocked and opened the door while doing his best to hide behind it.

“Why are you here? Where is Alizabeth?”

“Who?” Becca had taken on a rather annoying habit of not understanding him whenever he failed to use the appropriate honorifics for Alizabeth and herself.

“Mommy, where is she?”

“Honey Bear, she is at work and wouldn’t be able to make it in a reasonable amount of time. You should count your lucky stars that I was home and was able to get here quickly.”

“Quickly, it took you thirty minutes to get here!” Jamie had been much louder than he had meant, but the urge to match Becca’s loud nature was something he had always almost naturally tried to match.

“No sir, you will not raise your voice at me. I had to stop by your Mommy’s house and grab your diaper bag. Of course, if this is going to become a regular thing, maybe I need to keep a fully stocked bag at my place too.” At her current volume, Jamie was sure anyone near the door now realized the large pastel bag she had carried in with her was not some clunky purse but a fully stocked mobile changing station.

“Can you please keep it down? The entire shop is going to know what is happening in here?” His best hope at keeping some dignity for when he did eventually leave this restroom was to get her to quiet down.

“Is that how you ask someone to do something?”

“No, please lower your voice, Auntie Becca?”

“Better! Now let’s get you cleaned up and out of here.” With that, she began pulling out the needed supplies, beginning with his changing mat.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Honey Bear, you’re too big for the changing station, and I’m not going to have you lie directly on the floor.”

“No, I mean, we don’t need any of that; just give me another pair of training pants.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but your Mommy was pretty clear that you were to be in diapers for the remainder of the day.”

“Please!” Maybe if he at least asked nicely, she would allow it. Alizabeth would surely be more understanding if Becca went along with it.

“I don’t know; I would hate for you to get in trouble with your Mommy.”

“I could change into a diaper before she gets home. She wouldn’t know. Please, Auntie Becca." At this point he was willing to beg for her mercy, even if that mercy was just a slightly less embarrassing undergarment than a full-fledged diaper.

“Did I just hear that you want me to lie for you?

“It’s not a lie; we just wouldn’t tell her everything. At worst it is a small fib.

“Enough, on your back now, eyes on the ceiling!” Realizing he had overstepped in his suggested deception, he lay down, hoping that if he was well-behaved from here on out, Becca would at least not tell Alizabeth about it.

As he lay there, staring at the roof, he realized that a more terrifying aspect of Becca was now present, silence. Throughout their long friendship, Jamie had come to learn that when silence overtook her, it was best to do everything possible to get her mind off what had caused it.

“Umm, what were you up to today?” She remained silent as she slid his pants off and tore off the sides of his trainers.

“I could have just slid those off for you.” Maybe an attempt at assistance would break the silence.

“Mommy lets me put them on myself.” Nothing; Becca’s silence remained undeterred.

“Becca, I’m sorry, I…” Jamie had looked from the ceiling to Becca to make his apology, but he had not expected to be looking straight down her low-hanging collar, getting more than a peek at her floral-design bra.

“Really, first you ask me to lie, and now you’re perving on my chest!”

“No, I was trying to apologize; I didn’t know you were wearing such a revealing shirt.” Jamie, at least, could be relieved she had finally spoken, though her volume seemed to have reached new heights.

“First off, I told you to keep your eyes on the ceiling, and second, only a big baby prone to premature accidents would think this shirt is revealing.”

“I wouldn’t call them premature.”

“Says the big baby whose little thingy is really trying to show off for me now.” Jamie wanted to argue but knew a more prolonged look down her shirt would have proved her words true, so he turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

“Damn it!”

“What? I haven’t done anything else!”

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?” Exasperated, Jamie could only imagine what he could have done now. He just wanted to be done with this interaction.

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, the bag only has your nighttime diapers in it…”

“Great, I can waddle all the way home.”

“… and a onesie for a change of clothes.” A new wave of panic rushed over Jamie.

“What do you mean? I can’t go out there in just a onesie and literally the thickest diapers I have!”

“You may have to, I’m sorry, Honey Bear.”

“Maybe you can rush home or to a nearby store and grab something to wear; I can wait a bit longer here.” As if some unknown force had heard his willingness to wait and determined that he had held up the world long enough, a knock on the door and a polite voice asking if everything was okay ruined any such plan of further waiting.

“Doesn’t sound like that is going to work. Look, you only have to make it to the parking deck.” Becca had quickened her pace, giving little care to the sounds coming from her fluffing the diaper.

“The parking deck is like half a mile from here.”

“Lift up for me. I’m really sorry, but I don’t think there is anything else that can be done.” Becca had the diaper fastened on quicker than he thought possible and was pulling Jamie to a sitting position.

“Maybe you could go grab your car and come back. I’ll stay here.” Becca was already pulling the onesie over his head.

“I really don’t think anyone in the store is going to be okay with you taking even more time up in their bathroom. Can you stand for me so I can get to the snaps?” As Becca began work on the snaps, he glanced at himself in the mirror, taking in the full glory of the beige-colored onesie and the giant teddy bear on the chest area and the clearly oversized diaper peeking out through the leg holes.

He wondered if there was any silver lining to be pulled from this experience. There only seemed to be one, and with that he looked down at Becca on her knees, fidgeting with the snaps, and peered back down at her gaping shirt collar.

“Almost done, just let me see what I can do about it being so obvious.” As Becca did her best to help, Jamie knew that it was all for show; he knew there was no making his situation less obvious. This entire situation was ridiculous. Any other man with a woman on her knees in front of him would be getting serviced in a completely different way; there would be no need to sneak peeks, and no need to imagine her adjusting his diaper and onesie was something for more adult and pleasurable. He barely registered that his thumb had made its way to his mouth; he was so close, the entire situation fading from him, only a growing warmth, a warmth that was surely a prelude to an exploding pleasure, was felt in that moment; he only needed to keep imagining Becca’s prodding as something more seductive.

“Phew, glad we got you in that diaper.” Becca’s declaration pulled him from his daydream.

“Huh?” As the fog cleared from his brain, he realized that the growing warmth had been nothing more than him using his diaper for its intended purpose, and even now that he was aware, he was failing to stop himself from adding to it.

“Idwidntmeanto.”

“Aw, don’t worry about that, but maybe you would prefer your paci?” Jamie, realizing that his thumb was still securely in his mouth, pulled it out and tried to regain his composure, but before he could better explain himself, Becca had shoved a pacifier in his mouth.

“Let’s get out of here.” With that Becca took hold of Jamie’s hand and began leading him out the door, but just as they were stepping through the threshold into the knowing eyes of those who had patiently waited, Becca said without looking at him “Your Mommy is going to give you one sore tushie when she hears about your willingness to fib… and for peeking down my shirt twice.”

[qqueenofhades]

Genuine question, since I'm another person your recent posts have inspired to contact government officials: why is calling the best method? Is it because constant phone traffic disrupts everything else, the idea that people people only call about things they really care about, or something else that isn't apparent to me? I'm really curious as to how this particular feature of government works.

And thank you again for maintaining hope while still spreading awareness. Kindness ripples outwards to touch many lives. Anyway, here's a picture of my service dog being real confused about what we're supposed to be looking at.

Calling is the best method because congressional staffers actively monitor the number of constituent calls that they receive on [x] issue and have to present that information to their congresscritter on a usually-weekly basis. Whereas emails can easily be responded to with a form letter/go straight to junk/dismissed as a crank/etc. However, I want to emphasize that again, any contact and any proactive action to make your concerns known to your elected officials is better than none. If you are scared to call and want to do an email first to get the hang of it: that is okay! You are still forcing SOMETHING into the system and at least making them register your email. I am not here to shame anyone for taking the steps that feel best to them at first.

Calling is also important as a blue-leaning person because red voters call/badger elected officials more often and have no shame about doing it, so this is the one time you have to channel your inner Republican and make a stink at elected officials. It does work and consistent public pressure/feedback can move important votes and actions either left or right. I do not expect everybody to spend all their time calling their elected officials about every single outrageous thing Trump/Musk/et al are doing, because otherwise you would be doing nothing but. Pick a few issues and monitor them and see what you need to do and who you need to pressure, but if you also need to take a break for your mental health, do that too. That way if there is something you really feel that you have to speak out on at once, you will be more ready to do it and more ready to engage over a longer period of time, rather than just in spasmodic rage bursts about whatever outrage of the day they've cooked up now.

(Also, what a good puppy. Not patting because they are working hard and I respect that, but yes.)

[justwinginglife]

Better Half

“Hey- the Colonel’s hungry. Get him a sandwich or something. Better yet, make it a steak dinner. Actually, make it two.”

You barked orders to a passerby and the confused but obedient soldier threw out a quick salute in response before scurrying away to do your bidding. By now, he knew better than to question you (they all did); it was common knowledge that any command you gave, no matter how bizarre or seemingly random, was to be followed immediately if one wanted to avoid risking your wrath. Even Caleb was only half immune to this rule.

Once, you advised him to flank the left side of the enemy and he’d flanked the right instead. Besides the ground sliding out from beneath him because the right sight of the field had softened significantly more than the left due to recent weather conditions, he also had to suffer the consequences of your cold shoulder for the next week. Now he only disregarded you when he wanted to tease you; he’d never risk doing it out on the field again. You were many things, but you were almost never wrong when it came to battle strategy and that made you invaluable to him. At least, that’s what made you invaluable to him at first. As time went by, you became so much more to him than just sound advice.

You turned to face your superior only to see him attempting to stifle his snickers with a gloved hand. “Did I say something funny, Colonel?”

He attempted to clear his throat but it was to no avail. The slight shake in his shoulders gave him away. “It’s nothing- at ease, soldier.”

You stared at him, unamused.

Realizing it was futile, he finally let himself laugh aloud. “The Colonel is hungry, huh? Last time I checked, I was the Colonel. And I’m not hungry.”

You crossed your arms stubbornly. “You’ll be hungry soon; you always eat around this time anyway. And besides, I’m hungry.”

He smirked. “Are you telling me you’re throwing my name around just to get yourself a free dinner? Tell me, my oh-so-lovely-adjutant, does that sound like abuse of power to you?”

“Nope. Like I said, you’re going to get hungry here soon anyway.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

His stomach growled right on cue.

You raised a brow at him as if to say “I told you so.”

He laughed again, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. Who knew you had my eating schedule all memorized?” He nudged you playfully with his elbow and you couldn’t help but relax slightly at his familiar touch, biting back a smile.

You knew he was supposed to be your boss, but he’d always made you feel more like equals than anything else. You were always the first person he greeted when he walked into work, and you were the only person he bid farewell to when he left. He kept you at his side almost constantly, seeking advice when he needed it, or simply company when he wanted it. This line of work could be gruesome at times, but somehow he felt that life was a little less gray when you were there to make him laugh.

Sometimes you’d pretend you were the only one who could make him open up like this. If anyone had seen the two of you at work, they would’ve agreed. To anyone else in the Farspace Fleet, he was the Colonel- calm, cool, collected. To you, he was Caleb- silly, stubborn, sensitive. Sometimes you’d even pretend he was your Caleb. But then you’d see that damn necklace around his neck and that familiar pain would trickle back into your chest like a poison seeping into your veins.

He wasn’t yours. He was never yours. He was… hers.

Every time he left for Linkon, every time he gave you that mock salute before grinning widely and telling you to “hold down the fort” until his return, every time he waved at you as he boarded the train, you felt your heart sink more and more. You wondered if maybe one of these days, he just wouldn’t come back. If maybe he’d run off with her, marry her. And then he’d forget all about you.

It wasn’t until he bounded off the train with a souvenir in hand for you ( he got you one every single time, without fail, whether he was gone for a day or a week), that you felt you could breathe again. It wasn’t until he was in the passenger seat of your car, letting you drive him home, listening to an album you’d both discovered together, that you felt you could relax again. It wasn’t until he was making you dinner in his home, the way he always did as thanks for picking him up, that you felt you could finally forget about her for a moment.

But it didn’t help that he always wore that damn thing everywhere he went. Even now, as you waited for the soldier to bring you and Caleb dinner, you couldn’t help but glare at the stupid hunk of metal. What an ugly design- she couldn’t have picked something more classy? It was the most unrefined thing he owned; you were sure you would’ve picked something more suited to him had you been given the chance. But you knew he’d never give you the chance.

Without meaning to, you let out a small sigh as you sank into your desk beside him.

“I don’t plan to return to Linkon anytime soon.”

You froze in your chair. Had he really caught on that quickly? You must not have been as subtle as you’d thought. “What do you mean?” You asked nonchalantly.

“That sigh. You always sigh like that whenever I say I’m going to Linkon. Well, I have no intention of making any visits in the near future.”

You had only meant to glance over at him briefly but when your eyes met his, you found it impossible to look away. You reminded yourself to breathe. “You’re not? How come?”

“No reason to.” He shrugged.

Bullshit. He had a reason. He had a good fucking reason and you hated it. You hated her. Without ever knowing her personally, without ever meaning to, you’d begun to hate her for the simple act of having him. “Oh really? No one to visit?” You asked innocently.

He chuckled. “Just say it if you’re gonna think it.”

“Think what?”

He raised a brow at you. “Really? We’re gonna play that game? Fine, I’m good at games. What should we play, 21 questions? Shall I guess what’s bothering you?” He moved to pinch your cheek and laughed when you swatted him away.

You could tell he was about to press the issue so you were grateful when the soldier finally returned with your meals. “Eat.” You commanded Caleb.

He saluted you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You ate in silence, but you could feel him sneaking glances at you. You didn’t dare reciprocate the eye contact for fear you’d never be able to look away.

“Hey.” The sudden solemnity in his voice surprised you.

“What is it?” You picked at your food some more as you waited for him to speak.

“Would you say I’m… needed?” His voice cracked slightly.

Well now you had to look at him. Just what on earth was going on in his head? You were just talking about Linkon, and now he was breaking out some existential philosophy? “Needed as in what?”

He winced. “Never mind.”

“No, I’m serious. As in what? As in the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel? Or as in Caleb?”

He picked at the edge of his desk. “I dunno. Both, I guess.”

“Honestly?”

He hesitated and then nodded slowly.

“The Farspace Fleet has never been more impressive in its entire history than it’s been under your command. But does it need you? No. So if you wanted to do something else, be something else, you could. You could do anything you wanted.”

“And… Caleb?”

You smiled warmly. “I’ll always need Caleb. He owes me a date, by the way; if you see him, tell him he’s not allowed to bail on me like he did last time; concert tickets are nonrefundable and expensive, and his oh-so-lovely-adjutant doesn’t make as much money as he does.”

He cracked a smile. “Caleb doesn’t get a break even when he’s sick, huh? Alright, I’ll be sure to tell him. No one messes with the Colonel’s adjutant, after all.”

And just like that, you were back to normal.

“He really did bring us steak dinners,” Caleb laughed as he cut up his food.

“I said steak, didn’t I? You should know better than anyone there’s consequences when you don’t listen to me.” You wagged your finger at him in warning and it only made him laugh harder.

“When I brought you on as my adjutant, I didn’t think I’d be hiring a comedian as well. Tell me- do you play venues or am I the sole viewer of your comedy act?” He teased.

“Neither. Both would imply I’m getting paid to be funny and unfortunately I am not. Unless you’d like to add my humor to your bill.” You winked at him.

He shook his head, grinning. “Unfortunately, my dear, I don’t think the Farspace Fleet can afford such quality humor. Will you accept payment in Caleb’s homemade dinners instead?”

Your eyes lit up. “Absolutely! Tastes better than this shit anyway.” You gestured to the food before you.

He chuckled. “You’re the one who made a big deal out of requesting it and now you don’t like it? So hard to please.”

“This steak is so well done, you’d think a crematory cooked it. I like Caleb’s medium rare steak much better.” You made a point out of chomping aggressively on the chewy hunk of meat.

He shook his head, grinning. Then he glanced down and began to poke the food around his plate, and you knew it was time to ask.

“So why wouldn’t you be needed?”

He choked on his water. “Wh-what?”

“You asked if you were needed and it was right after we were talking about your visits to Linkon. Did something happen?” You knew this was a sensitive topic, but you also knew him. He’d beat around the bush until the day he died. He’d tell you a million things, but never how he felt. He’d allude to it, dance around it, but never outright say it. Not unless you dragged it out of him.

“Not… not really.” He cleared his throat and continued to jab at his food with his fork. There it was. The famous Caleb avoidance tactic.

“You get into a fight with her or something?”

He bit his lip. “Nothing gets by you, huh? Yeah… something like that.”

“Nuh-uh. You’re not doing that shit with me, Caleb. She might let you get away with it, but I won’t. You know damn well I won’t. Come on- spill.” You demanded.

He gave you a sheepish look. “I’m fine, really.”

“You start getting all existential on me about if you’re needed and then you tell me you’re fine? You think I don’t know you any better?” You were starting to get annoyed, but you took a deep breath, trying to be patient with him. You knew this was hard for him. “It’s me, silly. I won’t tell anyone. Hell, I didn’t even tell anyone you cried during that dog movie.”

He snorted. “It died! It’s not my fault I cried. They make those movies specifically so you cry.”

You laughed and nudged him with your elbow. “So, if I can keep a secret about the all powerful Colonel of the Farspace Fleet blubbering like a baby, I can surely listen to you rant about your girl for one minute. C’mon. Let loose.”

He hesitated but then he gave in the way he always did when you persisted like this. “She… she said she didn’t need me anymore. She said she could take care of herself. She didn’t like the way I’ve been ‘acting’ now that I’m Colonel. I was just… I was just trying to protect her the… the only way I know how.” His fork clattered onto the plate as pain flashed across his eyes. “Anyway, point is, she doesn’t want me around anymore. So I’m… I’m here.”

Your brow twitched. “I’m sorry- the fuck does she mean she doesn’t need you? What, she thinks she’s all grown now and doesn’t need anybody? Even adults need to lean on each other sometimes, getting older doesn’t mean you stop relying on others. She’s too immature; only immature people go around claiming that they’ve ‘matured’ and don’t need help anymore. I’m telling you Caleb, I’ve been telling you, you seriously need someone older.” You paused to see how he was taking your ranting. He only listened in silence.

You set a hand on top of his and very gently said, “I could blow up her house if you wanted.”

That made him smile a little. “You know that’s not what I want. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I know, I know. You’re too good to people sometimes, Caleb. I think between the two of us, I’m the meaner one. I’d march right up to her -if you’d let me- and tell her exactly what I thought of her bullshit.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s entirely accurate. You’re definitely the better one out of the two of us. You don’t… you don’t know the things that I’ve…”

“What- the things that you’ve done? Honey, I’m your partner in crime. The things you’ve done, I’ve done them with you.”

“But you don’t know what I… what I tried to do to her.” He admitted weakly.

“So lay it on me. What’s so scary that you think you can’t tell me?”

“I told her-” He swallowed, eyes darting away from yours. “That I’d lock her up to keep her safe. That it’d be safer for her by my side.”

“And?”

His eyes flicked back up to yours, wondering if he misheard you. “What do you mean, and?”

“And what else? Was that it?”

He huffed slightly, but there was no annoyance in his voice. “Of course you would think that’s fine.”

“But you’re right though. There is no safer place in the world than by your side. Besides the fact that you’ve got the coolest superpower in the world (seriously- it’s such a cheat), and that you’re a great fighter, you also just have the sway that comes with being the Colonel. She’d be an idiot to not realize that. Yeah, sure, you could’ve maybe worded the whole ‘lock you up’ thing better, but it’s like you said; you were only doing the best you could in the only way you knew how. I wouldn’t fault you for that.”

He stared at you for a moment. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

You gave him a wink. “Absolutely batshit, thank you.”

He laughed. “How is it that you always know how to make me feel better?”

“Umm, maybe because I’m the best adjutant in the world and you should pay me more?” You teased, nudging him again.

He snorted. “You wish. But seriously. Thanks. I needed that.”

You nodded. “Now, let’s go get drunk and talk about how much women suck. I’ll buy.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “But… you’re a woman. And you don’t drink. And you’re broke.”

You shrugged. “But my best friend drinks and he looks like he could use a drink and a good, old ranting session. And again, if you just paid me more, I wouldn’t be so broke.” You grinned unabashedly.

He took in the sight of your grin and couldn’t help but smile himself. You always had the brightest of smiles. It was damn near impossible to be upset around you.

The two of you soon found your way to a bar; Caleb specifically picked one near his house because he was sure he’d have to carry you home drunk. You insisted that you weren’t that much of a lightweight and even proposed a drinking competition but by the time you’d gotten one and a half drinks in, you were already dozing off in his arms. He chuckled as he gazed down at you fondly. Signaling to the bartender to close out his tab, he scooped you up in his arms and walked you to his house.

When he got inside, he laid you on his bed and simply watched you for a moment. He was tempted to crawl up beside you, as he was sure you wouldn’t mind, but then he thought better of it. He’d sleep on the couch instead. He turned to leave, but then decided instead to bend down and kiss the top of your head before whispering, “Thanks again for tonight. I had fun.”

He began to pull away, but before he could get too far, you latched onto him in your sleep and yanked him into bed beside you. He tensed up, unsure of what to do in this situation, but the sound of your even, happy breathing made his heart lurch in his chest. He could listen to it all night. He probably would be listening to it all night, because he wasn’t sure he could sleep with how tightly you were clinging to him. Did you even know what you were doing?

“Caleb…” You murmured in your sleep, nuzzling even closer to him.

He covered his mouth to stifle his chuckle. Yeah, you totally knew what you were doing. What was he going to do with you?

He brushed your hair to the side gently, wanting to get a better look at your slumbering face. You were adorable, there was no other way to put it. He wasn’t sure why he was thinking these things, as he was sure he would never dare to in broad daylight, but somehow, as you dozed off beside him, your perfume soaking into his shirt, he couldn’t help but enjoy it. Enjoy you.

He wondered if things could’ve been different, if you would’ve been the only one in his heart and in his bed like this, had he grown up in Skyhaven like you had. Would you have gone to school together? Would you have sat beside him? Would you have had lunch with him? Would he have had the nerve to ask you to the prom? He shook his head, laughing softly to himself. Probably not. He was plenty outgoing, but a pretty girl like you? He’d choke over his own words. It seemed he never had enough nerve when it came to matters of the heart. All he ever did was hold back how he was feeling and what he was thinking. But not… not with you.

His brows furrowed suddenly at the realization. Did he have a single secret from you? He swore he only had the one, and you’d just coaxed it out of him only hours ago. Now that he thought about it, you were the only person who truly knew him. The only one he shared everything with. Of course, he had someone he loved, someone he’d loved his whole life, but even she didn’t know all of his secrets. You were the only one he told them to. You were the… the only one he wanted to tell them to.

He tensed up again. How could he let this happen? This couldn’t happen. Besides the fact that he was already in love with someone, he shouldn’t have been sharing so much with one person anyway. You could betray him, you could leave him, or even worse, you could hate him. One day, he could share too much, and you would never look at him the same way again. And he couldn’t stand that.

Carefully, he pulled your arms off of him and made his way to the living room. He stared at the ceiling until sleep eventually took him.

In the morning, he woke up with a blanket around him. He blinked, still groggy from sleep. He hadn’t remembered to grab himself a blanket, where did it…

Suddenly he heard the soft sound of an inhale and an exhale, then another inhale and exhale. He quickly turned on his side. There you were, sleeping on the floor. You’d given him the blanket he’d had on his bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. What the hell were you doing? Why were you on the floor? Didn’t he leave you in the bedroom? How long had you been here? He hoped to god you hadn’t been here long, otherwise you might get a cold from the lack of a blanket. He quickly scooped you up in his arms, attempting to settle you on the couch where he had previously been laying, so that he could wrap you up in the blanket, but you slowly began to stir.

“C-Caleb? What’re you-” You rubbed your eyes. “What’re you doin?”

He sighed. “What am I doing? What are you doing, why were you sleeping on the floor when I clearly put you on the bed, huh?”

You gave him a sleepy smile. “That’s an easy one. Cuz it’s your house. You should get the bed, silly. I tried to wake you up to get you to come to bed, but you were knocked out. Was like talking to a pile of bricks. So I brought you the blanket and slept on the floor.” You said it as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

He groaned. “You dork, I put you on the bed on purpose. How long have you been sleeping out here with no blanket on?”

“I dunno… couple hours?” You sat up slowly.

He rested his hand on your forehead, brow creased with concern.

“Watcha doin?”

“Making sure you’re not sick or something, cuz you slept in the cold like a dumbass.”

You grinned. “And? What’s my diagnosis, doc?”

“You’re not sick; you’re just stupid.” He flicked you in the forehead.

You laughed. “Good morning to you too, Cap’n Cranky.”

“Morning, goofball. I said I owe you one of Caleb’s homemade meals, right? How ‘bout I make you breakfast? I’ll make it nice and warm to make up for you sleepin in the cold.”

You straightened in excitement, nodding your head enthusiastically.

He cracked a smile and then got to work cooking.

No matter how many times you’d watched Caleb cook, you never got tired of it. You loved the way he expertly diced his vegetables, the way every cube was the same size. You loved the way he flicked his wrist out and flipped the pan. You loved the way he’d dip a pinky into the sauce to taste its flavor. You loved the way he hummed to himself when he got really into it. You loved everything about him.

“You know, I think I just might be your biggest fan, Chef Caleb.” You called out.

He grinned. “Only cuz I bribe you with my food. You wouldn’t like me so much if I didn’t feed you.”

“Hey- that’s not true. I’d like you no matter what.” You declared.

You might’ve imagined it, but you swore you saw him hesitate for a moment.

“Caleb?”

He blinked and his smile returned. “Sorry, spaced out.”

You stared at him carefully.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “What? Why’re you staring?”

“Caleb, it’s too early to be doing this.”

“Doing what?” He asked innocently as he stirred the pot.

“To be hiding things. You know you can’t hide things from me, you have a terrible poker face.”

“Hey- I have a great poker face, I’ll have you know.” He said, putting a hand over his chest in mock offense.

“Says the guy who is trying to avoid the topic by continuing to talk about poker faces.” You retorted.

He sighed and turned the stove off. “Fine, fine. I should know better by now, nothing gets past you. I was just… I was just thinking last night about some things.”

You sighed. “Caleb. You’re going to have to elaborate on ‘some things.””

“I know, I’m getting there. It’s just… do you think… there would ever be a day when you don’t like me anymore?” He asked quietly.

You snorted. “Nope. Never.”

“But what if… what if I did something really bad? What if I hurt you?”

“I’d forgive you.”

“But what if I hurt someone you care about?”

“You’re the only person I care about.”

“But what if-”

“Caleb, where is this all coming from? What’s going on? Don’t you trust me?” You cut him off suddenly. You could tell he was starting to spiral.

He winced. “I do… it’s just… sometimes I think I’m not cut out to have any sort of close relationship with anyone. My… my hands are far too stained with blood and I-”

“Well, if I stain my hands right beside you, who’s to say whose blood it is?”

His eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

“I’m saying, I’ll hold your hand no matter what. I’ll stand by you no matter what. I don’t care what you do, I don’t care what you’ve done, I don’t care what you’re going to do. You’re stuck with me. If you’re in it, I’m in it too.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him, enveloping him in a tight hug. “You dork, is this why you left the bed last night?”

He tensed up. “You… you knew I was lying with you?”

“Yeah and you were warm and then you left and it was cold. So it’s your fault if I get sick.”

“I just said you weren’t sick,” He grumbled, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t bottle your feelings up again, okay? Just tell me if you’re feeling down. I don’t care if I’m asleep, I don’t care if I’m mid-shit, I will drop anything and everything for you.”

“Well I definitely wouldn’t interrupt you if you were mid-shit,” He laughed. “But I will keep that in mind… thanks. I really do appreciate it. You… you have no idea what it means to me to know that you’re there for me.”

“I’ll always be here for you. And my offer still stands; I will totally blow up her house if you ever want me to. I never liked her anyway.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “What’s with you and explosions? I really will have to keep you in line, won’t I?”

“Keep me in line? Who’s the one who flanked right when I said left and went down the hill in a landslide?” You raised a brow at him.

He groaned, palming his face with a hand. “I said I was sorry, how many times you gonna keep bringing that up?”

“As many times as it takes for you to know that I’m always right.”

“Yeah, yeah- you’re always right, eat your damn breakfast.” He laughed as he shoved a bowl of food at you and directed you to his dining room. Then he slid into a chair beside you, nudging you gently with his arm.

The two of you ate in silence but it was a comfortable silence. The kind you can relax in when you know the other person is waiting for you on the other side of that silence. The kind you can only enjoy when you truly cherish the company you have.

“This is nice; I should bother you for breakfast more.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Is that right? What should I charge you for in return?”

“Is my undying attention not enough?”

“Undying attention is pretty good. But my home cooked meals are a hefty price. How about your undying attention and no more secrets between the two of us?”

You stared at him curiously. “We already have no secrets.”

“I think we have a grand total of one.”

“One? That’s one I’ve never heard of.”

“You still haven’t told me why you get upset every time I go to Linkon.”

You choked on your porridge. “Upset? I don’t get upset. The weather is just terrible there and I don’t want you to get sick.”

He raised a brow at you. “Now who’s got a bad poker face?”

“I think we should have no secrets except for my one. It’ll be the only exception. And then no secrets after that.” You mumbled in between bites. You were now feeling the need to stuff your cheeks so full that it was physically impossible to answer him. God, your behavior was ridiculous, and you knew it was, but you couldn’t help yourself. How was it that you could control an entire fleet and yet you couldn’t control your own feelings? You weren’t even sure you could control your face right now. You were sure your cheeks were as red as the sunrise.

“What’s so big a deal about your one secret? I told you I was willing to lock someone up for the rest of their life, and your secret is worse than that?”

You nodded quickly. “Oh my god, so much worse.”

He crossed his arms, unconvinced.

“You’ll honestly never look at me the same way again, I think it’s probably for the best if we keep this one under wraps.” You said weakly. You didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

“You said you’d like me no matter what. Well, I’m the same way with you. I’ll like you no matter what.”

“That’s-” You cleared your throat. “Kinda the issue.” You mumbled under your breath.

He tilted his head towards you, straining to hear your last words. “What did you say?”

“I said I need a tissue. Too much porridge. Messy stuff.” For good measure, you let some of it drip down your lip, shrugging your shoulders as if to say “What can you do?”

He rolled his eyes before grabbing a napkin. You thought he’d just hand it to you but instead he gently wiped the porridge from your face. His fingers brushed against your lips once. Then twice. Then again.

“Um… I think you got it.” You blushed.

“How long are we going to keep doing this?” He murmured, eyes fixed on the fingers that were still caressing your lips.

You swallowed. “Doing what?”

“Pretending.”

Your eyes widened and you pulled away suddenly, standing up straight instead. “Anyway-I-think-everything-is-going-to-work-out-great-your-girl-will-be-over-herself-in-no-time-at-all-and-you’ll-be-back-in-Linkon-before-you-know-it-okay-great-talk-I’m-gonna-go-wash-my-dishes-now-thank-you-so-much-for-the-meal.” You blurted out hurriedly before escaping to the kitchen.

“This is my house, you know. You can’t run and hide from me!” He called from the dining room, his voice getting louder as he made his way towards you.

“Not hiding!” You called back.

“Bullshit.” His arms wrapped around your waist, turning you to face him. He backed you against the kitchen counter. “Tell me the truth.”

You flinched. “I can’t.”

“You can, you just won’t. But if you’re gonna go and bottle up your feelings, then I can too, right?” His voice dropped to a low tone, almost like he was threatening you with his own feelings.

You sighed. “Fine. Fine, no secrets. But just… could you turn around and look the other way? I can’t say it when you’re looking at me like that.”

“No- you made me spill my guts to your face yesterday. It’s only fair you do the same.”

“Caleb!” You whined.

“No. Come on. Just tell me. I promise that whatever it is, it won’t make me think any less of you.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Alright. Okay. Fine. I’m in love with you. There. Happy?”

“Immensely.”

Without another word, he kissed you.

Your whole body froze. What? What was going on? Oh. You had to still be sleeping. That had to be it. There was no way he was actually kissing you. He was still in love with what's-her-face. There was no way he was-

His tongue slid into your mouth.

Your eyes squeezed shut as a whimper tumbled past your lips. Oh god, he was actually kissing you. And he tasted good. Kinda like porridge. But good. Oh god, why was he kissing you? Did you even care? Wait, yes, you very much did care. You very much did not want to be a rebound. No way in hell. You’d rather be in the friend zone than the rebound zone. God no.

You quickly pulled away from him, gasping for breath.

“Did you not like it?” He asked, eyes looking slightly hurt as they skimmed over you, trying to find an answer.

“Ha… did I like it? Of course I liked it.” You grumbled under your breath, still looking away from him.

“So then why-”

“Because I’m not her. I’m not sure if you realize that.” You’d snapped and you hadn’t meant to snap. Oh fuck, you really hadn’t meant to snap.

You heard him exhale a shaky breath.

Oh no. No, you really weren’t trying to hurt him. You immediately turned to reach for him.

“Ha. Got you to look at me.” He smirked.

Oh, you bastard. You scoffed and flicked him in the forehead. “Jackass. Why are you acting all hurt?”

He leaned in towards you, grinning. “Why are you acting all sensitive? Aren’t you in love with me? Usually, people wanna kiss the person they’re in love with; I mean, I get that you’re new at this love thing-” He teased.

You pinched his cheeks, interrupting his speech. “Yeah, yeah. You’re being a pain in my ass right now, you know that? And besides, I refuse to be your rebound, so maybe you should be careful who you go around kissing.”

His grin faded. “What do you mean? It’s not like I’m going around town kissing people. Just you. You’re the only one I want to kiss.”

You raised a brow at him, unconvinced. “You were just in love with someone else, only moments ago.”

“Hey, that was yesterday. I’m a whole new me today.” He attempted to joke lightheartedly but he couldn’t help the feeling of heaviness that had begun to settle in his chest. You didn’t believe him. Of course you didn’t believe him. He didn’t blame you, but it still hurt.

“Caleb- you were in love with her for years. That doesn’t just go away. I’m not gonna be the bandaid on a gaping wound.”

His expression grew serious and he straightened. “I know. I don’t expect you to be. But I think… I think we’ve been done for a while now. I just didn’t want to accept it. I was always… changing myself to be whatever I thought she’d like. When I finally got comfortable enough to show her who I really was… well, you know how that went. But you…you’re the only person who sees me and loves me anyway.”

“So what? Doesn’t mean you love me back.” It killed you to say the words, but it was true nonetheless. As badly as you wanted to be his, as badly as you wanted him to kiss you nonsensically until you forgot all rationale, until you forgot your own name, until you forgot what day it was, as badly as you wanted him to cuddle you to sleep, to be there when you woke in the morning, you didn’t want it if he didn’t want it. He’d had enough of pretending in his life; he didn’t need to pretend to love you back just to appease you. It’s not like you would quit your job if he rejected you. You’d already stayed by his side regardless of your feelings and his lack of return on them. You didn’t want to be just one more person he had to change for.

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t mean that. But I do love you, regardless. Love is a choice; I choose you.” He said it so simply. Like he was reciting a book, like he was just stating a fact.

“But what if I don’t want you to choose me just because I’m the only one who understands you? If someone else comes along who understands you just as well as I do, will you want them instead?”

He shook his head. “I’m not choosing you because you’re the only one who understands me. I’m choosing you because you’re the only one I want to understand me. You’re the only one who makes me laugh every damn day, the only one I want to laugh with every damn day. You’re the only person who tells me when I’m being stupid, and the only person I listen to when I’m being stupid. Hell, you’re the only person I can’t live without. I’ve already been living without her this entire time, between the long distance and the long missions, but from the moment I met you, I knew I’d need you. So let me need you. Let me love you.” He held his breath as he waited for your response. “It’s also a no charge on Caleb’s homemade meals for his girlfriend,” He added on lightheartedly, hoping you’d laugh.

You bit your lip in attempts not to.

But he knew you better than that. He grinned. “There she is. Hi, baby.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Caleb! You can’t just call me that- I’ve not even said yes yet!”

He smirked. “Yeah, but your cheeks already did.” He kissed each side of your blushing face.

“No charge on meals and you’re paying for concert tickets.” You grumbled, attempting to remain serious.

He laughed heartily. “Only you would attempt to put a price on a relationship. Fine. Sounds like a deal to me. I still think I got the better end of the bargain anyway.” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him before beaming down at you and peppering you with light kisses here and there. “I get a woman who’s both generous and gorgeous. She just gets Caleb.”

“Well, Caleb is more than enough for her. She loves Caleb exactly the way he is.”

“He’s starting to love Caleb the way he is too. All because of her.”

Taglist: @tbaluver @pixelcafe-network @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter @minasfwoopyponytail

[four-ravens-in-a-trenchcoat]

Two more things about the "How are you doing" question:

I always try to add something that the other person can latch onto if they want. A "How are you? Fine, and you? Fine" exchange doesn't lead anywhere. But for example:

A: How are you?

B: I'm good thank you, I just made this amazing dinner/my crochet project is coming along really well/I've enjoyed the sunshine lately/for once I didn't get stuck on traffic/I'm exited for X thing we're here for etc etc. How are you?

Now A gets their turn to answer the question, and if they want they can pick up the conversation hook and ask you about that little comment. Or they can leave it if they don't want to talk a lot. Or offer a hook of their own. It may lead to a longer conversation about the topic or something adjacent if you're both up to it.

Secondly, a complaint about small talk I've seen is that you have to say you're fine even if you're not. But you literally don't have to. It's possible to be truthful but still politely vague about it. You should probably keep it pretty unspecific at first and if people ask you can always say "I don't really want to talk about it" if you don't. Some potential answers to "how are you?":

Tired (a go-to for me. Sometimes I add a comment about why as a conversation hook)

Well, I'm pretty stressed out at the moment

....fine? (This provokes questions, I've used it a lot)

I'm happy to be here at least

It's been a rough week

Not that well at the moment, but it'll work out

I have slightly too much on my plate right now

Side note: answering "not much, I've been home resting and it was really nice" to what you've done during the weekend can get you lots of sympathetic statements like "oh that sounds really nice, I probably need that as well"

I'm trying to figure out a good way to say "you really should actually learn the basics of small talk" with sounding like I'm biased against autistic people.

[petrifleur]

pairing: nanami kento x reader; prompt: 36. striptease

contains: established relationship, mostly suggestive, office worker nanami, he has gross coworkers, burlesque dancer reader, afab fem reader (reader has boobs, wears a bra + lingerie), consensual nude sending, kento being a cutie patootie; word count: 1.2k

author's note: hehe this was so fun to write! i would love to watch a burlesque show one day :3 thank you to @benkeibear for helping me and proofreading! <3

please read my rules before interacting! minors, ageless / blank blogs will be blocked!

music blared through the speakers, the bass thumping in nanami’s head. it was pounding from the stressful day already and then his coworkers decided to go to a burlesque bar to ‘unwind’.

he did not want to be there.

he’d rather be curled up on the couch cuddling with you, his sweetheart. a little secret he kept all to himself, the relationship providing comfort in the day-to-day rush of his boring office job. however, you encouraged him to go and have a few drinks, stating that you had to work anyways and wouldn't be with him until tomorrow. at least he had something to look forward to after this terrible workweek.

the lights dimmed, spotlight directed on the stage as the mc’s voice boomed to introduce the next act. the voices around him quieted down as everyone’s eyes were glued to the stage.

a soft, sensual jazz number started playing, the curtains opened to reveal. . . you. kento’s jaw almost hit the floor but he composed himself. hollers and whistles were heard from his already inebriated coworkers, some even saying how ‘tasty’ you looked. you were donning a beautiful robe, matching feathered fans covering most of your body. your face was obscured by the fluffy feathers, only your eyes peering over them. gloves covered your hands, bedazzled at the nails.

kento was awestruck. he knew you were a dancer but not this kind. you haven’t been dating for very long, haven't gotten physical besides a few heated makeouts on his couch after half a bottle of wine. you haven't really talked much about your profession besides telling him you were a dancer. but you politely declined when he asked if you could show him a few moves or even teach him. but now he knew why. burlesque was not his personal style but boy, he knew he he loved to watch you.

along with the beat, your fans wiggled open and closed, slowly revealing the extent of your outfit. the half tied robe showing off your cleavage and teasing the lacy bra you were wearing underneath. you were moving sensually to the music, revealing more and more. the fans moved behind you like a peacock’s tail, flaring beautifully with the rhinestones glimmering in the spotlight.

you closed the fans with a snap, putting them away to the side before slowly pulling on the robe strings and turning your back to the audience. his coworkers let out huffs and puffs, wanting to see the robe fall (and drooling over your scantily clad body). kento balled his hands into fists, knuckles turning white and his nails leaving indents in his palm. his jaw was starting to hurt from clenching so hard. sweat was starting to accumulate on his brow with a vein threatening to pop. contrary to what you may believe, kento wasn't angry. oh no, not at all.

he was aroused. very painfully so. and even a little bit jealous. jealous that his coworkers would see you like that, even before he did. even if they didn't know you were his partner, he was angry at them. they didn't deserve to see your beautiful body, didn't deserve to drool over you and how stunning you were. you were his, and his alone. he was very jealous, in fact.

he was watching with gritted teeth as the robe opened, drowning out the whoops and hollers right next to him. he almost didn't notice what was stitched into the back of the robe. “k’s”.

he felt his heart beat out of his chest. did you get that done just for him? oh, he desperately hoped so.

the music reached a crescendo and the robe fell. he could see the tightly laced corset around your waist, matching panties and garters. saliva was pooling in kento’s mouth and he swallowed. hard. he would do anything to touch you right now, to feel the rhinestoned corset beneath his fingers and unlace and unravel it slowly. his hands were sweaty and he was wiping them furiously on his pants, adjusting his posture so (hopefully) no one would notice the tent in his pants. he was so, so hard, scared he would pass out from arousal.

you turned around with a dazzling smile, revealing your full outfit to everyone. the bra you wore pushed up your breasts, the shimmer from your body oil so pronounced on your skin. you slid your hand from your shoulder down, slowly pulling on the glove and revealing even more of your glimmering skin. grabbing the bedazzled tip of each gloved finger before pulling it off with your teeth seductively, kento almost felt like you were looking right at him. his heart was lurching up to his throat, his leaking length twitching in his pants. you really looked delectable.

he watched with bated breath as you did the same to the other hand, showing off your bejewelled and manicured fingers. you then grabbed each end of the gloves, rubbing the gloves between your legs as you moved your hips back and forth. kento started salivating even more at the image of you moving like that on top of him and almost came in his pants.

you spun the gloves a few times, cocking your hips side to side before throwing them over your shoulders. you did a few more lascivious moves, showing your ass cheekily before finishing up your routine with laying on your tummy on the prop sofa. you were kicking your legs and twirling your imaginary hair between your fingers as an artificial phone ring interrupted the ending your smooth jazz song.

you acted surprised before picking up the fake phone. the sound had kento holding his breath as your sweet, sweet voice responded to the familiar intro: “hiya barbie.”

“hi, ken!”

you looked in his direction and winked. of course, every man in his vicinity thought it was for them. but oh, kento knew. he knew you were onto him, you knew he was in your audience tonight. you blew a kiss before the curtain closed and the mc announced a quick break. your boyfriend shot up from his seat, muttering a quick “excuse me” before squeezing past his hollering coworkers joking about him being a little too into it. and they were absolutely right.

as soon as he reached the bathroom, he locked the door and let out a shaky exhale before fishing his phone out of his pocket. you had sent him a photo.

thank god he was alone. you were only wearing the garters, at least from what he could see. even though everything else was covered by your massive fans, he could make out the rough shadow of your breast behind the glittery feathers. the cheeky smile from your mirror pic almost had him cumming in his pants like a pathetic teenager.

‘hope you enjoyed the show! ^_^’

he quickly pulled down his pants just enough to free his leaking cock, snapping a photo himself. he had only sporadically sent nudes before so it wasn't very aesthetically pleasing. the photo was shaky and unclear but it had to do. your thighs clenched in anticipation. his photo had you drooling and getting ready to set out to find him. before you could, he was calling you.

“yes, kento?” you giggled on the other end of the line. “did you like it?”

“more than you know,” he panted, sweat running down his temple. “please, let me take you home and show you just how much.”

©petrifleur 2025 – all rights reserved, do not copy, modify, repost, translate any of my works. do not feed my works to any kind of ai.

[noircheols]

⸺ NO ORDINARY LOVE. 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

an anthology of love stories almost never told.

PREFACE. love has been far from perfect. you thought you would stumble upon prince charming organically. unfortunately, this is a big fat joke in the 21st century. reluctantly, you open the app store and download something you always believed were better off for finding potential enemies or friends with benefits... a dating app. it’s time to give your phone cupid’s bow and see who it hits!

PAIRINGS. svt x reader (seperate)

WARNINGS. suggestive, cursing, varies from fic to fic

SCHEDULE. every monday (i hope.)

TAGLIST. @jjjjeonww @shirebusking @shinwonderful @tokitosun @unlikelysublimekryptonite @wonkierideul @syluslittlecrows @macapunoz @paradiseoflosers

open! please feel free to dm/reply/ask

STATUS. ONGOING!

AUTHOR'S NOTE. AAAAA i wanted to write something inspired by hinge's no ordinary love campaign. reading it was so lovely and i wanted to write something alongside the same premises. hinge if ur seeing this please dont sue me </3. THIS IDEA IS NOT MINE AT ALL simply something inspired by it. i hope you all enjoy!! peep the ugly header LMAO graphic design is my least fave thing ever as u can see. happy love month to all the losers (affectionate) who enjoy!! i hope you all find love in the people you adore, the music, food, and most importantly, yourself!!!!

NETWORKS. @kstrucknet

♡ ‎ kisses are always promises ── 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐋

a love story for people who deserve peace of mind and torment themselves for being unable to give others the same.

LIKES : popping boba, working out, my dog kkuma, giving gifts and making them feel special, confidence

DISLIKES : lack of effort, ghosts, fries (got doxxed for this)

♡ ‎ let your habits control you ── 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐍

a love story for people who want somebody they can be themselves without any qualms, flaws and all.

LIKES : somebody who keeps me on my toes, napping, taking photos of my pet rock, cashmere pajamas

DISLIKES : somebody who monitors my every behaviour, judgemental

♡ ‎ heaven knows i'm miserable now ── 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐎

a love story for people who are looking for the best in people (and always end up finding the worst).

LIKES : optimism, deer print, sunsets, big smiles, playing guitar, an open heart

DISLIKES : poor manners, gaming, isn't understanding, just don't be a horrible person lol

♡ ‎ swimming fool ── 𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐔𝐈

a love story for people looking to dive head first beyond the surface of dating to understand themselves and their partner.

LIKES : exploring new possibilities but having somebody to call home, cat cafes, matcha, hmu huzz 👅👅👅

DISLIKES : misunderstands me and my humour (or chooses to), isn't on the same wavelength

♡ ‎ i don't wanna watch tv anymore ── 𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆

a love story for people who are scared to pick up their broken hearts and close themselves off from being hurt again.

LIKES : TIGERS, going to the arcade just for the dance machine, somebody to share fun memories with but also can feel safe with

DISLIKES : spicy food, pent up emotions, lack of ambition

♡ ‎ focus ── 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎

a love story for people who know that seeing is believing, that to be loved is to be seen, and that to believe is to love.

LIKES : hoodies, gaming (league of legends, genshin, valorant), reading, somebody to sit in silence with after a long day

DISLIKES : obnoxious, believes things revolve around them

♡ ‎ chocolate strawberries ── 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐉𝐈𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

a love story for people who put up walls and are waiting for the right person to knock them down.

LIKES : anime (jujutsu kaisen, naruto, kimi ni todoke), personal space, my personal space being invaded

DISLIKES : my personal space being invaded, physical touch

♡ ‎ keep you close ── 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐔

a love story for people who know what they want, and knowing what you want makes you lonely.

LIKES : cooking, trying new cuisines and restaraunts, unboxing collectibles, being appreciated

DISLIKES : heights, avoidance, mess

♡ ‎ weather forecast ── 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐌𝐈𝐍

a love story for people who worry about being too much or too little, but never enough.

LIKES : long walks at public parks, cupcake-scented things, visiting the dog shelter, rock music (fun fact i was in a band!!!)

DISLIKES : nothing!!! everybody is awesome and cool in their own way :D

♡ ‎ cloudburst ── 𝐗𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐎

a love story for people who don't appreciate what they have.

LIKES : art history, exhibitions, mala xianguo (or any other spicy food)

DISLIKES : being held back, long-term commitments, being deprived of choice, everything

♡ ‎ ‎stuck by the glue ── 𝐁𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐍

a love story for people who are chronic people pleasers and give to the point of exhaustion.

LIKES : ballads, family, when somebody is caring and affectionate, tangerine flavoured desserts, iced americano

DISLIKES : making somebody upset, being found annoying, chan

‎ ‎♡ ‎ ‎starshy ── 𝐂𝐇𝐖𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐋

a love story for people who deserve to be taken seriously.

LIKES : visiting record stores, charli xcx, cloudy days, making personalized spotify playlists for each other

DISLIKES : dismissive, puts me down

‎ ‎♡ ‎ ‎hot n cold ── 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍

a love story for people who make up their mind and change it the next minute.

LIKES : somebody who loves having me around, doing everything together, somebody dynamic

DISLIKES : seungkwan (DNI!!!!)

@noircheols do not copy or translate