#ach ach ach i just have... opinions........

[iichfilwypj]

heroes | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: :) ღ wc: 692 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

The days that followed were awkward. The trip back to camp was awkward. They didn’t look at each other, didn’t speak. They couldn’t be in the same room for more than two minutes without her wanting to escape.

And it was entirely her fault.

She stepped into her cabin, wanting to fall into bed and sleep until the next day. Or, better yet, the day after –perhaps then she'd recover the naps she hadn’t been able to take. 

But, to her surprise, she wasn’t alone. 

There he was, lying on her bed. She could see he was in his pajamas, his hair messy and breathing so slowly it almost felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. He seemed so at ease, so peaceful, so much like before.

She could only snap.

Tears welled up before she could hold them back, flowing faster and stronger than ever. Each drop hit the floor like a moment they might have shared, a word they could have said. 

Her sobs must have roused the boy, who sat up in bed, a sleepy expression on his face as he stared at her. Her vision was too blurry and weak to see him clearly, but he appeared to be just as heartbroken as she was. 

“I- I am so sorry” Her words were shaky and barely coherent, but the boy understood them perfectly. He was sorry too. 

She wanted a hug, sweet words, for him to wipe her tears away. Percy stayed where he was, trying to give her space. 

"I fucked up everything. I was afraid when I realized how much I love you, and how much I need you, and I didn’t know what to do." The tears kept flowing as she uttered the only words she didn’t want to say. “We can't be together, Percy”

He was furious, frustrated, mad. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to push her away or pull her into his arms, whether he wanted to never speak to her again or kiss every inch of her body. 

And though he wished things could go back to when she was just his best friend, the one sleeping beside him all day and unaware of his (and her own) feelings, he knew he had to give it another try.

“Why not?” he dared to say, without taking her eyes off her trembling figure. "What makes you think that?"

“I’ll be mean, and you’ll get tired of me” No. Percy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Getting tired of her? 

Without her, something was missing, something was off. 

He made his way toward her carefully, checking if she was okay with it. His hands traced her face, and he smiled without thinking as he felt her skin after so long. 

“You know that is not true. None of that bullshit it's true" She shook her head, and he nodded. She pouted, and he smiled. “We love each other, and that's a fact.”

“Nothing would keep us together” she knew he understood; the others, their stupid opinions, her own insecurities…

But was she being honest with herself? Was she really unwilling to give everything she had to spend the rest of her days with him?

“I don’t believe that. We can try”

He didn't release her face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“We could steal time.” 

A kiss on her cheek.

“Just for one day.” 

A kiss on her other cheek.

“Please.”

Their noses brushed together, their breaths merged, and their bodies inched closer without even trying.

Their lips were so, so near. 

And she nodded. Because she depended on him, she adored him, she hungered for him. She ached for him. Her body yearned and craved for his company, his hugs, his kisses, his touch. 

She wanted him. 

Without a second thought, their lips met in a soft, warm kiss. His hands pulled her closer as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world around them seemed to freeze, granting them more time, more peace. 

And the kiss became desperate, raw, and yet somehow full of sweetness.

Every part of them connecting, as if they were finally where they belonged.

heroes >>>>> any other song IT FINALLY HAPPENED AAA I COULND' STAND WIRITING MORE ANGST maybe it's rushed because i NEEDED them to kiss but i don't care

[seitmai]

As always, many thoughts

“Mama be mad?” His brows furrow as he starts bouncing around even more. Andy knows he has moments before Suede has an accident and gets upset for doing so.

🥺🥺🥺

“Hands, Suede,” Andy’s voice is soft, but demanding. It’s not a question, it’s what Suede has to do. “Ugh,” groaning, he gets on the stool, grunting as he reaches for the soap.

Kids and washing hands, either they love it and do it excessively or only when you remind them 😅

“Pies,” pineapples. Close enough. “NaNa, my ove oo,” he lays his head on Andy’s chest, snuggling in a bit tighter. He always tells fibs about being sleepy. Sleepy Suede, is more cuddly loving Suede. “I love you, too, buddy. You ready to watch some Bluey?”

🥹🥰🥹🥰

This is the sight you’ve always wanted to see; a sticky-faced little boy snuggled up against his dad’s chest, while both of them are passed out. The comfort that Suede feels with Andy matches the way he feels about you. You have no fears when he’s with Andy.

What a sight 🥹🥰

He makes your ovaries ache. Seeing how good he is with children that aren’t his, you know this man deserves someone of his blood. You don’t know how, but you’ll make it happen.

Understandable

You didn’t want to travel for Christmas, but Andy had the time off for Thanksgivng. You had the time off. You missed your family, and wanted them to see Andy with your babies. Let them see how much the kids have grown, and also a grownup Andy. Your mom obsessively talked about him. Even told you on your wedding day you should try and find Andy again because you were making a mistake. Mom’s always know best. And your mom definitely knew.

Mom was/is definitely not a Scott fan 😅

“I called Andy daddy,” she sighs, and finally looks up at you. You meet her with a smile on your face. You and Andy hadn’t found the time or the way to bring up that comment. “It was at donuts for dad, and I just think I got confused. My head was all mushy, and I didn’t mean it. But I liked having him there, and showing my room. You’re the only one that’s seen it.”

She is worrying so much 🥺

Her face falls to sadness, and you lay down the knife. Walking around the counter island to hug her, “Sweet girl, Andy and I aren’t mad.” “But what about my daddy? Are you going to tell him?” You weren’t. But eventually if Audrey kept feeling comfortable with Andy, and letting that title slip, he would know.

Poor thing is so stressed out about it 🥺

“What about daddy?” She pouts. No matter what, this little girl adores her dad, and she’s already over concerned about Scott’s opinion. “Won’t he be mad?” “We don’t have to tell daddy if you don’t want to. Daddy never has to know. I don’t want you to stress about this. You’re four, almost five,” Scott is going to keep on and turn your precious child into a neurotic clam.

💔💔💔

A finger taps on her chin, humming so sweetly while she thinks. “Can we go to the aquarium, and soft play, and then pizza, and then go to a movie?” “I think that sounds like a magical day. Who do you want to go?” “Our family,” you want to squeeze her so tight. Her sweetness comes out of her, and you need to preserve these little moments. “You, and me, and Suedey, and Andy,” you nod your head.

A magical and fun day with the family 🥰

“Audrey, you are the cutest, most sweetest little girl I’ve ever met, you know that?” “Yes, I do,” she gives you a little giggle, returning to her PlayDoh.

Maybe if my boyfriend didn’t walk around the damn house with his dick swinging around,” he grimaces at the word boyfriend and the way you emphasized it. “Get hard!” “Make me,” you’re a bit irritated at him, but not enough to refuse making him hard. You sink to your knees, and take his hardening cock into your hand. You kiss over his member. Looking up at him with the sweetest face that you can muster. You’re not sweet. You’re a goddamn whore for Andy Barber.

🤭🤭🤭

“You just said you were horny, so I’m going to fuck you, and then we can talk about everything else like adults.”

Sounds like a great plan to me 🤷🏻‍♀️

“No. No, they weren’t. Your favorite ones are those pink ones. They cover your full ass, and there’s something about the way they just don’t move on your body, so you’re not tugging them around all day,” you really gawk at him. He’s right. “And when we sleep, your ass cheeks hang out just the tiniest bit and I want to bite each one. So not only are they comfortable on you, they look amazing on, or on the floor.”

I'm blushing just reading this

“Everything!” He stalls his movements, before leaning over you. His hands in a fist to hold his weight off you just enough. But you want to feel him on you. You want to feel that slight pressure and weight, and know that he’s there, “Everything. I don’t know how to explain it, and I don’t know how to talk about it. I spent so many years sucking up my problems because I didn’t have a real job, and he did. You don’t want to hear about my problems because you’re busier than me.” “I do,” you shake your head no, but Andy grips onto your chin tightly. His hips slowly push and pull him out of your warmth. You really are a damn teenager. Can’t have an adult conversation without needing your boyfriend-fiancé’s cock inside of you, and all you can do is cry and shake your head. “Doe, I want to hear everything. We are partners. When you don’t feel well, I don't feel well. I want you to be happy because that makes my days better.”

🥰🥰🥰

“I did. That’s what I want. I want to kiss away all your tears, and I want us to be okay. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” tears steadily flow down your face, and he keeps kissing over your cheeks, and it doesn’t help. Except those tears stop hurting so much. You’re now crying because you’re so happy with the right partner. “Honey, I love you.”

He's so dreamy 😍

“She’s terrified of clowns, and characters in costumes,” she likes her characters 2D. “She’s not over that yet?” “Are you over your fear of sharks?” Scott huffs.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

You lift up on your elbows, throwing all caution to the wind when you grab Andy’s ass, and pull him deeper into you. You wink at your fiance. “Do you think he doesn’t know the disdain that you have for him? How you won’t even spend the goddamn time to help him pee in the potty while he’s there? Do you think Audrey doesn’t tell me about the giggling you and Taylor did when he cried because he had an accident that smelled. Shit stinks, you asshole. Even your precious Taylor’s. So either you have a party that Suede can fully be a part of, or don’t bother throwing a party that she doesn’t even want anyways.”

Let it all out 👏🏻

“And then my postpartum depression cramped your sex life. And then our son became the number one man in my life. And then our son was sick all the time. You never even tried to connect with him. You never even noticed that I was drowning. All you cared about was getting your dick wet. So my advice to you is to make sure you don’t knock Taylor up, because you can’t handle anything with a penis being put above you. Is that all?”

I definitely know where Audrey gets her sass from 🤭👏🏻

The only thing you want is to know that your babies are safe, and in a loving environment. And if he can’t provide that for them, he might as well just give up trying to fight for them. He only fights for them because it hurts you. But his fight is becoming stale. The only thing he’s holding onto is his pride. Knowing that Audrey could be his legacy, and never thinking that his son could. He wants you to hurt. He wants to shove something in Andy’s face. And all at the expense of his children.

He is a true asshole

One of these days, he’ll give up on the fight. And when he does, you know that Andy won’t hesitate to pick up those pieces, and be willing to adopt both children, and legally become their father. It’s in knowing a man. It’s knowing that even when you’re acting ridiculous in an argument, that Andy isn’t going to stop. That he’s not going to make some snarky comment that kills your self worth.

Oh he will and he will give 120% and do it all with the biggest smile

“Woman, being called daddy by you is not my thing. I know you’re doing it to make me cringe. But I just had the best sex of my life, and pissed off a little wanna be man in the process. Let me revel in that fact, and also the fact that your cunt is so full of me that your eyes are swimming,” you shake your head no. His hand is still covering you, but he knows you're smiling.

🤭🤭🤭

He could tell you about all the things that are different about you, but he’ll save it. He won’t be able to save it for too much longer. You’re just being too silly and stressed to realize.

I have a feeling what this could mean and I had it at some other parts especially in this chapter too, so let's see 🤔

Two Good Reasons, Part 8

Summary: something is happening

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, playful degradation, mentions of divorce, mentions of neglect, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, Scott, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“NaNa?” Suede looks up from the toys he’s playing with pointing down the hallway to your bedroom. Desperately trying to get Andy to wake you up, “Mama and Dee seep?”

“Yes, buddy,” Suede huffs a bit. Crossing his arms over his chest before his mouth flattens out, and he returns to his playing. Andy watches him a moment before looking back at the game on tv. Suede looks back down the hallway before pouting up at Andy, “Suedey, what’s wrong?”

“Me pee,” he says, rocking his body back and forward.

“In your diaper?” He shakes his head no, looking towards the bathroom, and he jumps up. His feet bounce around a bit before he jumps, holding himself. “Okay. Come on,” Andy stands up, and walks quickly towards Suede, “Let’s go, buddy.”

“Mama be mad?” His brows furrow as he starts bouncing around even more. Andy knows he has moments before Suede has an accident and gets upset for doing so.

“Your mama won’t be mad. Come on,” Suede holds himself as he runs towards the bathroom, and makes it to his potty just in time. He gives Andy a thumbs up, smiling so proudly at him. “You made it! Does that feel better than a diaper?”

“Chess! Me yike it. NaNa pee der?” Suede points at the bigger toilet, and Andy nods his head, “Me, too?”

“One day. And you’ll get to stand.”

“No,” Andy nods his head yes. “No, no.”

“Has your dad never,” he stops his question when Suede scrunches his nose up. Andy approaches the boy carefully. A child with so very little vocabulary, and still so young, but clearly Scott hadn’t been teaching him anything about pottying.

“Tay.”

“Taylor?” Suede nods his head, and Andy wonders what his limited words are trying to tell him. He’s noticed that you don’t ever press your children about time at their dad’s, so he doesn’t want to either. But he wonders if Taylor is the one that deals with bathroom or diaper duty, “You done?”

“Chess! My mama at?”

“She and Audrey are taking a nap,” Suede dramatically rolls his eyes at Andy, and pulls up his pants. “Audrey has a bit of a cold, and your mama is tired.”

“Ways seep!” He rolls his eyes again, starting to stomp out of the bathroom.

“Hands, Suede,” Andy’s voice is soft, but demanding. It’s not a question, it’s what Suede has to do.

“Ugh,” groaning, he gets on the stool, grunting as he reaches for the soap.

“I know mama has been needing some extra sleep lately, but it happens to everyone,” Suede shakes his head no, starting to play more in the water than washing his hands. “Yes, they do. Your mom works hard, she loves you and sissy harder, and…”

“Ove oo.”

“Yes, she loves me, too. Are you finished?” Suede giggles as Andy picks him up to use the towel. He swings him around until he’s sitting on his hip, and he peeks into the bedroom, and you’ve still got Audrey tight against your body. Your nose buries into her watermelon scented hair, and she clings just as tightly to you.

Suede gets one look at you and growls, “Now, you’ve got to share time with your mom. You could have taken a nap, too, and you said no. You want to nap?”

“No,” shaking his head no, he points at Andy’s chest. Sputtering out words before sighing. Once Andy gets into the living room, he points at the tv.

“You want to watch the game or Bluey?”

“Oo Oo,” that settled that. He yawns, and Andy chooses to ignore it, if you bring up nap to Suede, he’ll refuse it just to spite you. Still holding him he walks into the kitchen. Grabbing himself a beer, and a cup of watered down juice for Suede. “Nack, pease,” his speaking has immensely improved. Suede has slowly been able to put words into sentences.

“A snack. Hmm. What about your fruit salad? No strawberries, and no..?”

“Pies,” pineapples. Close enough. “NaNa, my ove oo,” he lays his head on Andy’s chest, snuggling in a bit tighter. He always tells fibs about being sleepy. Sleepy Suede, is more cuddly loving Suede.

“I love you, too, buddy. You ready to watch some Bluey?”

“Chess!” But his ’yes’ is just a little bit softer, and he never lifts his head off Andy’s chest.

—

You yawn, looking down at your daughter who rubs the sleep out of her eyes. Audrey looks up at you, giving you a sleepy smile, “Did you sleep as hard as mommy?”

“Uh huh,” she sits up in the bed, stretching big. “I like this new bed. Can we see what Andy and Suedey are doing,” she jumps out of the bed immediately, but waits for you to stretch, too. Going behind her, you scoop her up in your arms to blow raspberries all over her, but stop when you walk into the living room.

This is the sight you’ve always wanted to see; a sticky-faced little boy snuggled up against his dad’s chest, while both of them are passed out. The comfort that Suede feels with Andy matches the way he feels about you. You have no fears when he’s with Andy. You know that Andy has his allergies memorized, but also checks the list that’s on the fridge constantly.

He wanted to watch some football, but opted for Bluey so Suede could fall asleep. He agreed to stay up a bit longer with Suede, spend some one on one time with him, while you and Audrey were already piled up and snuggled. Sunday naps are your favorite for a reason.

“They’re sleeping,” Audrey looks at you with a big smile. You know she enjoys seeing Suede being happy and more content here. She shouldn’t have to worry about her brother, but she does. The best big sister you could have asked for. “Suedey likes Andy a whole whole lot.”

“So does Audrey, huh?” She giggles, nodding her head. “How about mommy and Audrey get a snack, and you can play at the table while mommy makes dinner?” She nods again, while you look back at Andy and Suede. He makes your ovaries ache. Seeing how good he is with children that aren’t his, you know this man deserves someone of his blood. You don’t know how, but you’ll make it happen.

You honestly can’t even wait to spend all these holidays with Andy and the kids. Biting on your lip, you glance at the family calendar, knowing it’s past time to ask Scott if you can go back to Michigan with the kids to spend time with your family for Thanksgiving. It was your weekend to have them. Scott hadn’t told you about plans with Taylor’s family, or if he was even interested in seeing them on the holiday.

You didn’t want to travel for Christmas, but Andy had the time off for Thanksgivng. You had the time off. You missed your family, and wanted them to see Andy with your babies. Let them see how much the kids have grown, and also a grownup Andy. Your mom obsessively talked about him. Even told you on your wedding day you should try and find Andy again because you were making a mistake. Mom’s always know best. And your mom definitely knew.

“Mommy?” You look up from slicing the vegetables for a roast, letting Audrey know she has your attention, “I think I messed up.”

“Why’s that?” She bites on her lip, looking more like you every day, even with her mannerisms. Audrey looks down at the PlayDoh she’d been kneading, and looks down the hallway towards the living room. “Audi? Is everything okay?”

“I called Andy daddy,” she sighs, and finally looks up at you. You meet her with a smile on your face. You and Andy hadn’t found the time or the way to bring up that comment. “It was at donuts for dad, and I just think I got confused. My head was all mushy, and I didn’t mean it. But I liked having him there, and showing my room. You’re the only one that’s seen it.”

Her face falls to sadness, and you lay down the knife. Walking around the counter island to hug her, “Sweet girl, Andy and I aren’t mad.”

“But what about my daddy? Are you going to tell him?” You weren’t. But eventually if Audrey kept feeling comfortable with Andy, and letting that title slip, he would know.

“Do you want me to?” She shakes her swiftly, and buries herself into your chest. “No. But I also think you should call Andy whatever feels natural. You naturally called him that because at that moment that’s what he felt like to you. Baby, Andy adores and loves you, and doesn't not care what you call him. Unless it’s something like poppy head,” Audrey giggles, finally lifting up from your body.

“What about daddy?” She pouts. No matter what, this little girl adores her dad, and she’s already over concerned about Scott’s opinion. “Won’t he be mad?”

“We don’t have to tell daddy if you don’t want to. Daddy never has to know. I don’t want you to stress about this. You’re four, almost five,” Scott is going to keep on and turn your precious child into a neurotic clam.

Her little fingers pet over your shirt, looking like she’s up to something. Her sly smile is so cute that you just want to give her a hard kiss on her cheek. “Can we go to Paris for my birthday?”

“No,” you answer quickly. Traveling out of the country with ‘Scott’s children’ would be out of the question. Going to Paris before her birthday would be even more so with planning alone. “Pick somewhere else to go.”

“Nini and Poppy’s?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to do for Thanksgiving. What about something around here?”

A finger taps on her chin, humming so sweetly while she thinks. “Can we go to the aquarium, and soft play, and then pizza, and then go to a movie?”

“I think that sounds like a magical day. Who do you want to go?”

“Our family,” you want to squeeze her so tight. Her sweetness comes out of her, and you need to preserve these little moments. “You, and me, and Suedey, and Andy,” you nod your head. Pressing a kiss to her forehead before placing her back in her seat. She’s making you oddly over emotional, and it feels so confusing and overwhelming, and you love it.

“Audrey, you are the cutest, most sweetest little girl I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“Yes, I do,” she gives you a little giggle, returning to her PlayDoh. You happen to glance at it a moment. “Is this what the judge’s bench looks like,” you finally understand Andy’s frustration with this.

“Audi, why don’t you make a cupcake instead.”

“No, I gotta learn.”

Waking up without the kids feels so awful. Yes, you have your wonderful boyfriend-fiance, and you refuse to call him fiance until he gives you a ring. And while waking up without them at home with you is better with Andy, due to the distraction, but it still sucked. The only good thing is having Andy prance around nearly naked.

He loves to keep the doors locked, the blinds closed, and walk around with his cock out all day. It’s like he’s teasing you. And you have no problem partaking. He really likes it when you’re naked or at least topless. Especially topless cooking, like now.

You’re being cheeky teenagers again, except without so many restrictions. Standing over the pot of soup, you giggle as Andy comes up behind you with his hands on your tits. He looks over your shoulders softly petting around your nipple. His smile is infectious as he pebbles the sensitive skin. “You’re so,” a lewd moan ripples through your throat, and you back your ass into his cock.

“Fuck me.”

“Sensitive,” Andy gives your nipples a hard pinch, and twirls you around to look at him, and you immediately cup his cock, and he meets your energy, except he shoves two fingers into your warmth, and you whimper, “You’re fucking soaked,” he’s shocked at how ready you are for him.

“I’m fucking horny,” you whine, grinding over his fingers like a bitch in heat. You’re so needy for him right now.

“Yeah, no shit, Doe. You are leaking out, and making a mess on your thighs. What has got you worked up?” His voice is laced with so much hunger for you. My god, this man and that cock you can have whenever you want. And you want immediately. “You’re so fucking messy.”

You can’t stop it. There’s something about his voice that sounds accusatory. And you’re fucking horny. You want to have sex, you don’t want to have a lecture. The soup is simmering and not ready. The kids aren’t here. And you want to be fucked so hard you fall asleep again.

“Maybe if my boyfriend didn’t walk around the damn house with his dick swinging around,” he grimaces at the word boyfriend and the way you emphasized it. “Get hard!”

“Make me,” you’re a bit irritated at him, but not enough to refuse making him hard. You sink to your knees, and take his hardening cock into your hand. You kiss over his member. Looking up at him with the sweetest face that you can muster. You’re not sweet. You’re a goddamn whore for Andy Barber.

“You are a horny little slut, hmm?” Shimmying your shoulders, you nod your head with a smile. Sucking his cock into your mouth so you can suck and use your tongue to massage him. Moaning as he turns to steel in your mouth. “Fuck. You seriously are a master with your mouth. My fiance looks amazing just like this. Taking my cock just like she was made to do.”

What? You pull off his cock slowly, and stare up at him scowling, “What?” He asks, mouth hanging open looking at you.

“Seriously?”

He furrows his brows, and you lose patience. Leaning back on your heels, he asks that stupid question again, “What, Doe?” You don’t say anything, just move to stand. “No. You stay and talk to me. What is your deal?”

Your deal? He grabs your arm, but you shrug him off, and march away from him. “Doe!” You keep walking away from him, but he doesn’t let up. Using your real name, and it hurts for some reason. The vitriol reaction you have to hearing him say a name that everyone calls you. Doe is special to him. His little deer.

“Do not call me that, Andy Barber!”

“I seriously have no idea what is going on right now,” of course he wouldn’t. Because he didn’t understand anything. And currently neither do you.

“Ugh!” Spinning back on your heels, you walk away. Again. Heading towards the bedroom. The two of you look utterly ridiculous; you wearing nothing but cheeky panties, and him completely nude with a hard on. Serves him right. Maybe he can have blue balls because the free show is over now. He needs to gravel, and plead.

“I sound stupid!” You scream at yourself, and you fall onto the bed like a petulant child. You sound like a toddler, and still you can’t stop the weird feeling. It’s not anger as much as it’s complete frustration. You can’t make it stop. You want to be fucked. You want Andy to propose like he said he would. You want to move and live in a house that doesn’t have Scott’s name on it. You want your children to quit leaving you every other weekend.

You want Scott to quit throwing lame excuses over your head trying to scare and threaten you. You want him to stop fighting for full custody. You don’t want him to even have joint custody. You want your babies. And you want them with you and Andy.

“Baby,” Andy coos on your back. He peppers kisses all over your back, and you cry more. You’re trying to be mad at him! “Honey, tell me what’s wrong?”

“I hate him,” he doesn’t have to see your face to know your crying. Your trembling body tells him.

“That’s not what set this off. Tell me what made you angry at first,” was it not Scott? Or is everything just rushing at you at once?

“You’re a liar,” you sound like a child. Audrey doesn’t whine as much as you are.

“I am not.”

“You said you were going to propose for real, and you haven’t,” make it stop. Go back to blaming Scott. You sound like an entitled asshole. Andy said he had a ring, and he said he was going to propose, and he will.

“I called you my fiance,” his voice is so soft, and understanding, but it kind of ticks you off again, and you try to resist. You don’t want to make things worse.

“And I hate it here. I hate that he takes our babies away every other weekend, and I only get to see their faces a little bit. Or when Suede tries to text from his ‘mini’ iPad, and it’s just emojis. And I love that you help him potty. And I’m so horny,” Andy chuckles on your back. He uses his feet to push legs apart.

His thick fingers start teasing through your weeping cunt, and another alarm goes off, “You’re trying to change the subject.”

“You just said you were horny, so I’m going to fuck you, and then we can talk about everything else like adults.”

“You fuck me from behind to much,” he growls. Actually growls on your body. “Andy!” His hands grip you tight before flipping you over on your back, and stepping in between your legs. He moves aside your panties, and you know how stupid it sounds inside your head, but you can’t stop it. “Are you seriously trying to fuck me like some bitch you met at the club without taking her panties off?”

He gives you the most angry grin you’ve ever seen. Tight lipped and irritated when he rips the damn things off, “Those were my favorite panties.”

“No, they weren’t,” you gawk at him. “No. No, they weren’t. Your favorite ones are those pink ones. They cover your full ass, and there’s something about the way they just don’t move on your body, so you’re not tugging them around all day,” you really gawk at him. He’s right. “And when we sleep, your ass cheeks hang out just the tiniest bit and I want to bite each one. So not only are they comfortable on you, they look amazing on, or on the floor.”

Andy crashes into your whiny ass warmth, and your back lifts off the bed. “Now, I don’t know what set you off, or why you’re being so unreasonable but I want to talk about it.”

“I want you to fuck me!” He pulls himself all the way out before slamming into so hard. “Fuck me!”

“I am!” He does it again. And again until your eyes start to crash. “I am your partner, and I want to listen to what’s bothering you.”

“Everything!” He stalls his movements, before leaning over you. His hands in a fist to hold his weight off you just enough. But you want to feel him on you. You want to feel that slight pressure and weight, and know that he’s there, “Everything. I don’t know how to explain it, and I don’t know how to talk about it. I spent so many years sucking up my problems because I didn’t have a real job, and he did. You don’t want to hear about my problems because you’re busier than me.”

“I do,” you shake your head no, but Andy grips onto your chin tightly. His hips slowly push and pull him out of your warmth. You really are a damn teenager. Can’t have an adult conversation without needing your boyfriend-fiancé’s cock inside of you, and all you can do is cry and shake your head. “Doe, I want to hear everything. We are partners. When you don’t feel well, I don't feel well. I want you to be happy because that makes my days better.”

“I don’t want him to have our babies,” you said it again without any hesitation. You want Andy to have your children. You would ask him to adopt them today if you knew it was possible.

He nods his head. His rhythm is still so steady, “The custody hearing is getting closer,” it isn’t a question, but you nod your head. He knows that’s part of what’s bothering you, “Honey, I’m not going to let anyone take the kids from us.”

“You can’t promise that,” Andy leans forward, and kisses each cheek, pulling back you notice the shine on his lips. “Did you just kiss my tears away?”

“I did. That’s what I want. I want to kiss away all your tears, and I want us to be okay. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” tears steadily flow down your face, and he keeps kissing over your cheeks, and it doesn’t help. Except those tears stop hurting so much. You’re now crying because you’re so happy with the right partner. “Honey, I love you.”

“I love you,” your words bubble over. He’s so perfect, and you’re just not. You’re not a superhuman, you’re not the thinnest, the most beautiful, the smartest, but you know you’re a damn good mom, and you were a good wife to an asshole. But you could be the best wife to Andy. “I want to marry you.”

“You’ve got to get divorced first,” you snort. Finally sounding happier than sadder. He smiles, kissing you gently. “I’ll marry you the day after if that’s what you want.”

“It was always you,” you may sound silly. You two may argue over the stupidest things. But it was always him. “I’m sorry that I’m a child sometimes.”

“You’re normally not,” he bites his lip as he pounds into you quickly. “Now, hold — fucking hell!” He yells, slamming his hand on your phone. “You’re answering it.”

“You are fucking me,” giggling, you read his name, and know why Andy wants you to answer.

“And I’ll keep fucking you. So you better listen to little Scottie the first time,” whimpering, you shake your head no.

“Just finish quickly.”

“I don’t want to, I want to take my time. Answer it.”

Groaning, you click on the phone, “Hey,” Andy is an asshole. He keeps a slow rhythm into your body. “What are you needing?”

“Why do you sound sniffly?”

“My allergies have been irritating me lately,” you can feel his eyes roll, “What’s up?”

“Taylor is wanting to throw Audrey a party,” he blurts out. You don’t hate Taylor. But you don’t think Taylor is capable of throwing Audrey a birthday party either. Plus, she’s got the celebration one in her classroom, and doesn’t love large crowds. “She wants to give her a party at an event center with clowns.”

“She’s terrified of clowns, and characters in costumes,” she likes her characters 2D.

“She’s not over that yet?”

“Are you over your fear of sharks?” Scott huffs. “I’m listening. What else?” Andy pistons into your body so hard that you have to slap your hand over your mouth to keep a sound of deep satisfaction from escaping. “Jerk!”

“Just have Taylor’s family,” why? “And a few kids from her classroom,” a few can range to a large number. “She wants a caterer.”

“For a five year old?” You already see what Taylor is doing. She wants her family there, so she can show off how much her boyfriend can spend on silly little things like a birthday party.

“Not everybody wants to make everything by hand like you, Ms. Perfect,” you know Andy is aware of everything that Scott is saying. It’s why he grits his teeth as he pounds into your body balls deep, and lets the tip of his cock settle against your cervix sweetly. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” just having the best sex with the deepest penetration.

“You’re panting.”

“I just got off the treadmill,” just getting fucked.

“Honey, it’s not baby weight anymore, Suede is two,” another harsh move into you, and Andy’s face starts to turn red. Angry with Scott’s unnecessary harsh words.

“She wants to go to Paris.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not paying for that shit.”

You roll your eyes. Scott seriously didn’t understand, nor were you asking him to pay for anything. “She’s obsessed with Madeline. Why not do a Parisian theme. But for fuck’s sake, can the two of you make sure that Suede can have everything there? You know how kids are.”

“You could keep him that day.”

Andy bites your neck slightly too hard, “Ow.”

“What?” Andy growls on your skin. “Oh god, did I upset Andrew?” No, he’s pissing you off.

“You upset me. Either Suede goes, or you don’t need to throw a party for Audrey,” he starts to say something, but you speak louder, “That’s his sister, and you know the special bond that they have. Either you include Suede in the festivities, or you don’t do it. Audrey will want to talk about it, and it won’t be fair to our son.”

“He’s fucking two years old, he won’t remember it.”

You lift up on your elbows, throwing all caution to the wind when you grab Andy’s ass, and pull him deeper into you. You wink at your fiance. “Do you think he doesn’t know the disdain that you have for him? How you won’t even spend the goddamn time to help him pee in the potty while he’s there? Do you think Audrey doesn’t tell me about the giggling you and Taylor did when he cried because he had an accident that smelled. Shit stinks, you asshole. Even your precious Taylor’s. So either you have a party that Suede can fully be a part of, or don’t bother throwing a party that she doesn’t even want anyways.”

Andy moans, and Scott whispers an expletive. You hope that Scott knows that you’re getting ground into with the biggest cock right now. Andy pushes into you faster. Harder. “Is there a problem, Scott?”

“You can be a bitch sometimes. Just didn’t realize it until after we split.”

“And you can be an asshole sometimes. I always knew it, but I overlooked it for some reason. And if I ever hear about you and Taylor making a comment about Suede’s shitty diaper again…” Andy pushes into you so hard, your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can’t make threats. “He’s a baby, and we are teaching him to potty train. If you don’t want to change diapers, do the same at your house.”

“He’s with you more.”

“Consistency is the key. Is that all?” His side is silent, minus the heavy breathing. You can hear his finger tapping on something. His annoying fucking habit when he gets angry. Fucking asshole. He’s a little bitch. Having to make a two year old feel bad for an accident in his diaper to make him feel superior.

“Audrey shouldn’t — are you,” he pauses. You’ve stunned him into silence, and he doesn’t even know what to say, “What do you want?”

“I want you to treat both our children the same. I want you to treat Suede like he’s your son, and that you love him. I want you to be just as proud of him as you are of Audrey. I want you to stop pushing the responsibilities of our children onto Taylor. I want my son to come home happy. I don’t want him to see me, and not want to let go of me for a few hours. Mmm,” Andy really is an asshole for pushing into you so deep that you can’t stop the sound of bliss.

Scott knows. He knows that Andy is giving it to you so good, and when you get off the phone that Andy is going to fuck you like a slut. “Andy told you to write,” he sighs. Yes, Andy and you have been writing down every indiscretion to your children that he does, “I just can’t connect with him.”

“What are you saying?” Your fingers dig into Andy’s ass. You're angry. You’re pissed. You’re ready to kill your ex.

“I don’t,” he’s choosing his words carefully. You wish he would just rip the bandaid off. “He’s not an easy child. Audrey is. I had bonding time with her. And then…”

“And then my postpartum depression cramped your sex life. And then our son became the number one man in my life. And then our son was sick all the time. You never even tried to connect with him. You never even noticed that I was drowning. All you cared about was getting your dick wet. So my advice to you is to make sure you don’t knock Taylor up, because you can’t handle anything with a penis being put above you. Is that all?”

“Fuck you. You are so self righteous. You act like you’re the perfect fucking parent, and nobody is ever going to compare to you. I hope Andy enjoys trying to please someone who is impossible to please,” you moan again. Having to bite on Andy’s arm. “You fucking slut. How dare you fuck that asshole while you’re talking to me!”

“My fucking slut,” Andy grunts before reaching to your phone, and ending the call. “After this court hearing, and when it’s determined about the kids,” he stops himself. His thrusts are angry. “Do you realize I want to,” you cover his mouth with your hand, shaking your head.

“Do not say that. I just want our,” you smile at him, letting him know that it’s not an accident when you say our, “babies. Oh god,” he ruts into you, and your body becomes soft for him. Pliable to his every move, and you stare at the man that didn’t even have to try, and he reached your ‘impossible’ standards. Scott is wrong. And you’re never going to allow him to hurt your self esteem ever again.

The only thing you want is to know that your babies are safe, and in a loving environment. And if he can’t provide that for them, he might as well just give up trying to fight for them. He only fights for them because it hurts you. But his fight is becoming stale. The only thing he’s holding onto is his pride. Knowing that Audrey could be his legacy, and never thinking that his son could. He wants you to hurt. He wants to shove something in Andy’s face. And all at the expense of his children.

One of these days, he’ll give up on the fight. And when he does, you know that Andy won’t hesitate to pick up those pieces, and be willing to adopt both children, and legally become their father. It’s in knowing a man. It’s knowing that even when you’re acting ridiculous in an argument, that Andy isn’t going to stop. That he’s not going to make some snarky comment that kills your self worth.

He crashes his lips into yours, and the two of you pant. Breathing in each other’s air. Entangling your bodies together in the most beautiful sin. One of these days you won’t have to worry about these conversations. You won’t have to worry about the bane of your existence. You’ll be able to sleep every other weekend because you know that your children are in a safe home.

He presses his forehead against yours while he drives his cock into you so hard. Fusing his body with yours. You can’t look away from his beautiful eyes. Can’t think of anything more besides the fact that Andy is the most beautiful human. Andy is the epitome of a perfect man. Not just in looks, even though he really is the best. But the fact that he isn’t toxic, and he’s all man.

His eyes darken, and his body tightens, “I’m there, Andy.”

“I know, honey,” his salacious moan has your body setting on fire. He’s so vocal during sex that you never have to worry if it truly feels good for him, or if you’re just ‘doing your wifely duties’. “I feel your walls pulsing around me. Squeezing me so tight. Let. Go,” breathing him in, you let every wall fall down as euphoria races through you. Your cunt clenches down around him, and you mewl out his name. Thick. Hot ropes of cum shoot into your pussy, and Andy’s body melts on top of your own.

You just breathe. You soak him all up. Every last drop of him. This will be the one that takes. You know it will be. You furrow your brows as you look up at the ceiling. Counting in your head. Are you even ovulating? Are you…?

“Hey,” he pops up from your chest, smiling, and you forget all the counting. He’s so pretty after sex. “Tomorrow when we go to pick up the kids. There’s somewhere special I want to show you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Andy!”

“Doe!”

“Daddy!” He covers your mouth with his hand.

“Woman, being called daddy by you is not my thing. I know you’re doing it to make me cringe. But I just had the best sex of my life, and pissed off a little wanna be man in the process. Let me revel in that fact, and also the fact that your cunt is so full of me that your eyes are swimming,” you shake your head no. His hand is still covering you, but he knows you're smiling.

“Yeah, you’re swimming in Andy cum and Andy dick.”

“I love swimming in Andy.”

“Andy just loves you,” and with that, he kisses you softly. Savoring the different taste of you after sex. He could tell you about all the things that are different about you, but he’ll save it. He won’t be able to save it for too much longer. You’re just being too silly and stressed to realize.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @hisredheadedgoddess28

[unnaturalequilibrium]

Capítulo 7

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

Fina in that green dress - she is beautiful. Damn. She also is Isidro’s daughter through and through, she too seem to have that way of getting people to open up, getting them to accept her advice and comfort. She is soft and reassuring as Claudia spills her mistakes with Tasio. And Fina’s hug looks so nice. I’m pretty sure this is what “everyone needs a bosom for a pillow” means and I agree, they do. To get lost in her embrace looks like it could solve a great many personal problems and maybe a few societal ones too. I don’t know if it’s the solution to climate change, but if 2025’s Nobel prize winners tell me it is - well I won’t be surprised. I also like that she one hundred percent share my exact opinion of Tasio, he is trash, unredeemable trash and should be avoided like the plague.

Aww, Fina arguing her case that a marriage doesn’t equal happiness and that her father shouldn’t be so quick to wish one upon her. The old man really just wants her to be happy, you can tell though that it’s a conversation that makes her ill at ease because of the way she has to stretch and stitch the truth in her replies. I already know it’s going to hurt a lot when he later on rejects her.

Marta confronting Elena - I know that it won’t officially happen for another hundred plus episodes, but Marta is the boss. The way she just slides into that armchair and takes hold of the entire office with what seems like nothing more than an innate sense of authority and a raised eyebrow - yeah, she exudes in charge. But I enjoy the little exhale at the end as Elena leaves. Like so much of who Marta is at this point this too is a game face. Maybe she carries it with what looks like ease, but it might actually come at a fairly high price, just not one we’re allowed to see yet.

Petra, I’m telling you - back off the Marta insults, or - If I remove myself from the narrative though, I love this. I love how they try to build Marta up as this stick in the mud, firm, cold and distant. Unsmiling, no sense of empathy, all business and with very little sympathy. If I hadn’t know what was to come maybe I’d buy it, maybe I’d laugh along with Petra as she mocks and says that Marta needs to smile more. Because yeah, all we’ve seen of her so far actually fits that vision of the demanding ice queen, except for these brief micro-expressions on Marta’s face when no one is looking, when she doesn’t have time to catch her true reaction. When Damian brings up marriage and children, when Elena turns her back, when Fina confronts her and tells her she demands a lot of respect. For a second you see something else, but only for a second, before it is hidden behind the wall again. So yeah, if I had watched this for the first time I would probably have thought of Marta as a bit of a bitch to approach with extreme caution.

That said, back to the narrative, fuck Petra. Fina is a fucking cinnamon roll and I ache so hard for her as this woman clearly leads her on, only to slam the door in her face and call her disgusting as wine and a win makes Fina bold enough to go for a kiss. And invertida is never a slur I’ve had to personally experience, but the way it is delivered and the way it lands makes it feel like I share its burden too. It’s a slap in the face and I wish I could reach through the computer screen and return it, with interest.

Marta’s relationship with her dad, ugh. She talks to him about being happy with being more involved in the company, getting a shot at running the business alongside her brothers. And what does Damian do? He turns the table on her and brings the conversation back to her marriage, talking about how it isn’t what he wanted for her. Granted it’s nice of him to want more than the isolation her current marriage gives her, but it’s also another dagger in Marta’s side, isn’t it? Whatever she does, or achieves, with her dad it always boils back down into her marriage, her role as a wife and the failure of it all. That shit really has to feel like someone ripping out the feathers of her wings every time she tries to take flight. It’s a nice parallel though of both Isidro and Damian wishing happiness and partnership for their daughters. I’m looking forward to when this will come full circle in 170 episodes and they discuss how their daughters have found just that, in each other.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hi! I hope you are having a good day/good night. May I request an Alucard x Reader where the reading keeps needing to touch him (holding his hand, hugging him, leaning against him or standing as close as possible by him) because the Reader is touch starved?

“Can I help you with something?” Alcuard asked [Y/N] as they sat beside him. To which they look up at him curiously.

They had been beside him all afternoon, as they traveled to the next village, but slowly encroaching on his space every few moments as they journeyed on. It came to the point a few times that he almost tripped over them they were so close. Now they were all but slid into his bunk on his side of the fire.

“Oh…the…wind was blowing the smoke in my eyes.”

“The wind is to the east.” Alucard told them. “What’s really going on? You aren’t scared, are you?”

“No!” [Y/N] insisted. Which he had to admit was a silly question. They were fiercer than anyone, in Alucard’s opinion. “I just….wanted to be close to you.”

The dhampir was surprised by their confession, but understood the sentiment. He had been alone for a very long time. He knew what loneliness was. To be so lonely that you needed to be physically close to someone to quell the ache.

Alucard opened his great coat and wrapped part of it around [Y/N]. “Next time just ask.” He told them. “You don’t have to be coy or subversive when you want to be near me. You’re not very good at it anyway.”

[Y/N] scrunched their brow, then tweaked at his side, but sad nothing. The two of them just spent the rest of the evening looking into the fire. Waiting for night to cast over and for their journey to continue to together.

[chatonyant]

I have (probably) too many thoughts about webtoons I have no read and webtoons I have not finished and their related media.

Yes this is about lookism and solo leveling

No this is nothing about plot

Lookism op popped up on YouTube feed and I just. Got really excited over it despite me not reading it because FUCK. IDK. ITS KINDA COOL. korean webtoon animated in korea! They added bg of traditional korean buildings for the korean characters and others for (I assume) the non korean characters! Idk it was just. Exciting to see this adaptation be eagerly korean after watching say Noblesse be animated (twice!) and have the original location erased. Like please! I don't want this to be the last! I really don't know much about lookism other than super basic plot but I hope the animation does well! Cause I'd love to see other webtoons be animated as well!

And with solo leveling I saw trailers for the game pop up and man. Those trailers were really good. Really well animated and fluid and dynamic in the fighting. Game itself looks pretty interesting but I can't say much cause I'm not really knowledgeable about games,,, but the animation! Was really nice! I'm... not entirely happy about sl being not animated in korea tbh but if the anime can make me feel as hyped as these game trailers did then (hopefully) it'll be fine

Reason why I'm not really happy with it being animated out of Korea is

Well one I don't really like the decision to rename the character and the bg to be Japanese. Two, since SL is something with vast amount of international attention it would've been nice if it was used to push more funding towards korean animation. Despite korea having done tons of animation for anime and American cartoons there's not much in terms of their own animation and series. And if korea goes down the route of manhwa -> animation like how Japan does manga -> anime it would be pretty cool to see!

Would love to see more info on the sl anime tho, tbh I haven't really looked too much into it so I forget when it's expected to be released

Ah 2023? For the trailer? I think? I hope the pacing's good. Same with the animation. Previous webtoon adaptations have been extremely... meh. I'M SALTY ABOUT NOBLESSE OK? OK? TWO CHANCES AND THEY BLEW THEM BOTH PLEAAAAAAASE

[canisalbus]

It's quite funny having followed you for years and years and knowing Machete as his dark, bloodied, cunning (and always on the edge of getting horribly murdered for his hubris) incarnation, and coming into 2024 and just... yeah he's gay now. Maybe he's even happy. Redemption at last... perhaps he DID get assassinated indeed and all those AUs are just his personal afterlife (does he get to go to Heaven? Seems so!)

.

[karamazovanon]

the brothers karamazov, fyodor dostoevsky (tr. mcduff) // strawberry blond, mitski

[graveyarrdshift]

my birthday is in exactly ten days

[widevibratobitch]

@anon asking about the wax cylinder recordings ill get back to you when i have some more time to make a proper post i prommy i will <3

[steampoweredskeleton]

.

Ignore

[graysexualcreature]

it's "missing talking to people who turned out to be shitty" hours

[gh0stj0y]

best mental health decision ever is deleting posts that make u anxious because thr idea of internet strangers not liking u is anxiety inducing

[izzy-b-hands]

I'm gonna ask a weird question but:

Is there anything you guys (aka y'all following me lol) want to see more of from me, in terms of a potential item(s)/service(s) to purchase?

Better explanation of what the fuck I'm waxing on abt below the cut. TW for talk of money/work/the overall state of things economically for me and my plans/goals/potential options to keep making things better.

I need to bring in more money. I'm getting more stable, trying to save on top of the generous donations I've been given while using them as needed for things we absolutely need (food, basic supplies/necessities.) But we're still so tight, and I know nearly everyone is dealing with some form of this right now bc Everything Sucks Economically on like. a level of how it felt in 2008 (extra terrifying feeling now) but. It's killing me. I can't take feeling like a burden like this. I have to do more.

I have been applying elsewhere, for FT, PT, and contract jobs that pay better, though I am hoping more for the FT positions of course. Thus far, I have not had any bites back that amounted to anything, but intend to continue my efforts regardless (because what else can I do there anyway?)

I've been trying to figure out other options, w/things I know I can do somewhat well to very well. All would be cheap, but hopefully would add up over time until I can get a FT job again and while I grind away at the current PT job (which I am hoping to add more hours to for the next semester, when they have us make our scheduling choices again and allow us to potentially add at least one more shift to our schedule.)

So, a poll. To gauge interest, and see if y'all have any opinions/would even potentially purchase anything like the below things from me. I'll try and detail each option below, but first, the options:

1. Photo Prints: I've done photography since high school, though I only have my current Pixel phone available for it right now. That said, they would be as cheap as I can get away with, and my Pixel actually doesn't do too badly, plus I would be editing these to make them as good looking as possible. Ideally, I'd have a Pay What You Want option instead, so ppl can just give whatever they think the print is worth since these will be smaller, amateur prints, but I'm not sure if all the platforms that usually handle photo print sales for smaller creators allow that. So, in that case, a range of probably $1-$5 at most for each print. They would be of things out here; I have access to and experience already with taking city and nature themed pictures (it was literally all I did in hs and since then bc of where I've lived.) So general city life/scenery, plus local wildlife like the birds, squirrels, and nature surrounding us in all seasons, plus any extra pictures I can take elsewhere whenever Housemate and I are out and about (aka probably lots of mountain and ocean shots.) My speciality when I had my other camera was micro/detailed photography, and I'd like to explore this with my current setup and see how they turn out and potentially offer those as well.

If it would help to see some current pictures that I am considering as the first set I would put up for sale, please reply on this post letting me know and I can post a couple as examples 🙌

2. Poetry Commissions: I have done these on and off since middle school, usually for friends/family. Nothing wild, but usually shorter, some rhyming, some free verse, poems on varying topics. I've done them for birthdays, holidays like Mother's Day and Father's Day, as well as with obits or for weddings, and even a baby shower, to go on the invites. I haven't posted much of what I've written in recent years, but as with the pictures, I would be happy to post some of the ones I've written before as examples. Poetry is where I have no fear and will work myself to the bone to provide the best work possible; if you can get me just the bare basic details (ex. You want a poem for your brother's bday. Give me his name, a couple of hobbies/likes of his, and two of your favourite memories with him and I'll write you something beautiful, to celebrate him and his place in your life and take the piss out of him too, depending on your relationship with your brother lol), I can get you a poem in a 2-4 day turnaround time for as low as 5¢/word. Electronic only, but you would get a PDF of the poem that you can do whatever you want with afterwards (I would require my name remain credited on any other posting/usage elsewhere, but you wouldn't have to pay me again if you want to reuse it for another brother, to harken back to our example.)

3. Data Entry/Transcription Assistance: This one is a pretty wide range of what I can offer. I have experience working with medical documents (neurology, ophthalmology, and optometry for specific specialities both in data entry and transcription) via two of my last jobs, technical documents from two prior jobs (public library and medical staff training specifically), and historical documents including both handwritten (including print and cursive) and typed documents and charts via my volunteer work with Zooniverse. This is my bread and butter in terms of general job skills, and one I genuinely enjoy. That means that I come into each job, regardless of field or exact task, with excitement and an open mind, ready to prioritise and organise everything to the requested system and/or standard, with the goal to go above and beyond that however possible. Usually I achieve this by completing projects as ahead of deadline as possible, as well as by taking on any additional related tasks as needed (example: you hired me on to type up all of Grandma's lifelong journal entries for archiving and easy reading at an upcoming family reunion, but now you've found that Grandpa has one too. For minimal to no additional cost, I will happily take that on and endeavour to have both sets of data typed up in an easy to send/print word doc and/or PDF well before the reunion deadline.) I am more than willing to take on contract/NDA required work for this option as well, and have done so in the past with a prior job (aka why I'm not allowed to share any of the clinic training docs I made.) Cost might depend some on project size and deadline, but a general estimate would be, to stick with our above example: $5 per 250/pg journal, with a small additional charge of $5 if a rush is requested (aka say the reunion gets moved up to three days from now vs three months or weeks.) I would endeavour to charge no higher than $25 with $5 rush fee if rush requested for bigger projects.

4. Research Assistance: More or less what it says on the tin. Can be for work, home related things, whatever (though if requested for school/in regards to homework, I only go as far as providing resource links because unfortunately, usually doing the research yourself is a part of the learning process. However, if you're struggling to find primary or secondary sources, I am happy to help find those for you so that you can peruse them to see if they'll have the information you're looking for. If they do, great! If they don't, then I would keep looking for more.) While research hasn't been my main task at any of my prior jobs, it has always been a feature in much of the day to day work regardless, and is a skill I have kept up in my volunteer work with Zooniverse on projects which requested it. Looking for sources for anything, from work projects to recipes can be a slog. Let me do it for you. Pricing on this I'm putting at $5. That's it. Pay me $5, and I'll find as much as I can in regards to whatever you have that needs researching. Turnaround might depend on project, but I'm leaning 1-4 days at the very most.

So. There we are! Vote on the poll if you'd like, reply with any opinions/feelings/ideas you have for me about these, and thank you if you read this whole thing ❤️🫂

[thebookishwallflower]

started a new med. feels like it’s gonna kill me. everyone’s got a knife at my throat not to stop though. i’m tired so at this point i’ll just let it.

[trans-leek-cookie]

random thought abt like. The vague idea of death of the author and what the audience gets from a piece of art being more important than the intent:

I think it's roughly fair like... you can't control what ppl take from your art. But I feel like there's an aspect of like... sometimes it feels like I now have to write and be careful of what my audience takes away. Which is like. Normal I think. But I feel like it puts a lot on the creator rather than the fact that audiences can just be Wrong. Like as a creator I can't fully control that but it messes with the dynamic. Like who's in the wrong: the person who created something that, while unintended has harmful consequences bc of the way ppl interpret it, or the people who interpreted it in a way that caused harm?

Also I feel like there's a more prominent undertone of "well once you release it into the world you no longer have control over it so everyone is entitled to their own interpretation of what you made and you can't be upset" and like. Idk I don't like that because let's think real quick about who's art is most likely to get scrubbed of the specific context of it's creation. And I'm not going to be coy it's marginalized people esp ppl of color and ESPECIALLY Black artists.

NOT TO MENTION PEOPLE SHARING FRAGMENTS OF ART LITERALLY MISSNG THE FULL PIECE... POETRY FRAGMENTS THAT ERASE IMPORANT PARTS OF THE PIECE MY MORTAL FUCKING ENEMY...

Anyway! There is some merit to the idea that an author loses control once they release something into the public and the can't expect to be able to control their creation the same way they do when they're the only one who knows of it, but also like. Authors deserve to have their art understood in full rather than in just fragments.

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.