#if i did do that would it be okay to gift it to you?

[peanutalergy]

Mr. Winston - SR x reader

The BAU doesn't really need your help with the case. Spencer does. tags: post prison! spencer, fem! child psychologist! reader. cm type violence (blood, murder, etc), traumatized child. pre-relationship yearning MAYBE ? maybe fluff also sorry i still don't know how to classify these things. the synopsis doesn't really make any sense because this is kinda spencer's pov but idk guys sorry im really tired. w/c: 1.5k (this was originally 5.4k words but then i reread it and found that i actually hated every single one of them so...) a/n: okay so wow... i had so much fun writing this (let's ignore most of my posts from the past two weeks) THE THING IS i sorta already had a pt2 to this but then i thought well we can't have that without the beginning so i did kinda write this in a rush im really sorry that it's so short and shitty. . . ALSO i really love this reader & i'd love to write more of her but if you don't like it then i don't like it either and i'll never write again if you tell me not to. i do not think this is good by any means. i do hate it but if i stared at the google docs page for any longer i'd go insane.

Spencer doesn’t treat her like she’s made of porcelain because she’d be easily broken (though, she would, but neither of you say that since you can tell how hard she tried to look strong before coming to the precinct). He treats her like she’s fragile because he can’t remember the last time he didn’t break something like this — wide-eyed and shaking, holding onto something soft like it’s the only real thing around.

He was the one who convinced the team to ask for your help when the kid got involved — he always is. They insisted it wasn’t needed, you can deal with her yourself, you’ve always been good with children, or whatever, but your office got a call from him anyway.

No one knows why he sticks around. Maybe it’s the way you hold her; the gentle hand that runs through her hair, much warmer than the tiny fingers with chewed off nails and blood stains. Maybe he’s trying to memorize the tone of your voice — soft and sweeter than the apple juice she didn’t open, rambling about the silliest things you can think of — to imitate it next time he finds himself having to question kids. Maybe it’s the teacup in your other hand (the one he made you) and the way you so casually sip from it. As if this delicacy came to you as easily as taking a breath, while he struggled even with breathing.

Either way, despite his hesitance, he’s always sure to be around if you’re working on a case with them. Watching from the corner in a way that might have seemed creepy if only you didn’t smile so often back at him.

Amelia Murphy, 6 years old.

She sits at the end of the couch, legs tucked up to her chest like she’s trying to make herself as small as a crumb on the untouched sandwich going stale by her side. Spencer stands at the edge of the room, a smile threatening to peek through as he listens to your stories about the stuffed animals on your bed.

“You can’t tell any of his buddies, okay?” she nods, small but enough for you, “Mr. Winston is my favorite teddy out of all the ones I have.”

“Why?” You and the agent have to hide a surprised expression at the sound of her quiet voice, ragged and hoarse, coming out for the first time tonight. 

“Because he’s been with me since I was very, very young.” You chuckle lightly, “I must’ve been around your age when my grandma gifted him to me.”

“How do you know my age?”

You look at Spencer. He takes that as an ask for help (it really wasn't) and moves before you can speak again, still as careful as possible as he sits on the armchair next to the couch and joins in on the conversation like you suggested to him so often. “We don’t, actually.” She doesn’t flinch like he feared she would, so he continues with a soft smile, “I’m sure my friend was just trying to say she was young, like you are.”

Amelia tilts her head, small brows furrowed as softly as she mutters, “Really?”

“Yeah.” He nods, “We don’t really know how old you are.”

“I’m… six.” Her fingers, miniature sized when compared to Spencer’s, struggle for a second before arranging into a six, “This much.”

You smile and pretend to write it down on your clipboard, “That’s a lot.”

He laughs in half disbelief, half joy when she asks, “Well, how old are you?”

“Do you want to guess?”

“Uhm…” Tiny hand scratching her chin, she examines him like she knows what she’s doing. He looks to you in pure confusion during the seconds she stays quiet. “A hundred?”

He holds back a snort, “Not quite, no. Do you wanna try again?”

During most of the time he talks to her, you stay quiet. He often looks to you, hesitating, asking for some sort of reassurance that he’s doing this right — you always give it to him with a barely there nod and a big smile.

Always, except for the moment he started talking about his job in almost too much detail when she prompted what are you?. Though, that time, he didn’t need your confirmation or denial to figure it out. All it took was a different knit to her eyebrows for him to go back into smaller than regular talking tone, from the bordering robotical lecturing mode.

“I wanna be a model when I grow up.”

“Oh, yeah?” you giggle breathily. Thankfully, she doesn’t take it as an offense like both of you thought she would. She just nods back at you with a proud smile. 

“And do you know what models do at their job?” Spencer inquires.

“They sit pretty in their pretty clothes for the people to watch,” the girl shrugs, speaking in the same way one would say the sky is blue. “Like her.”

He laughs when she points at you. “Being pretty isn’t all she does, though, Amelia. She’s not really a model.”

“She should be,” she whispers and you pretend you don’t hear it.

“Yeah, she should.”

He’s still careful even in the way he looks at her. Like she’d feel his cold hands if he said something too loud, too much. Every time she shows any sort of reluctance, he goes even softer — like he’d learned from uncountable hours of watching you do this over the years.

The very first time you met — interrogating an unsub’s daughter, before all of it happened. Before Mexico and Maeve and Gideon and Dilaudid and Emily. Before his jaw was screwed permanently clenched and his brain painted foggy. When he didn’t think of himself as a ticking time bomb and wasn’t scared of what he saw in the mirror.

Even when he didn’t feel this way about children as well as every other aspect of his life, he admired your work and yourself. So, it only makes sense (to him) that, when he sees himself as some sort of monster, you look like you’ve hung the moon and the stars even though the only thing you’ve ever been is yourself.

“And, uh, Amelia…” he mutters, pointing to the stuffed bunny in her hands, all love stains and frayed stitches, “Your friend over there. Does he have a name?”

She shakes her head, then spins it around to show the bow hidden on the back of its head, “She’s a girl.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m so sorry,” he laughs awkwardly.

“She doesn’t have a name.”

“Is there a reason for that, sweetie?” you ask as soon as there’s a pause from both of them.

He just watches with a grin while you work with her to find names for her teddy.

The markers were Spencer’s idea. He didn’t mean for it to be anything more than a way for her to express herself — you’d both been drawing animals and trees and numbers. Though, when her page became full of red scribbles and what seemed to be portraits of her parents, you realized she might have more to say.

“Who are those people, Amelia?”, he places a hand on her shoulder. She’s so focused on her tiny fingers wrapped around the marker, that she barely shows any reaction to him. When her bottom lip goes wobbly and her hands impossibly shakier, he takes away the paper with a “Okay, that’s enough.”

She fell asleep on his shoulder after half an hour of sobbing while telling what she remembered of the story.

He can’t help the warm feeling that floods his chest when you tell him, “You did a good job.” after getting as much as one can out of a kid who just witnessed her parents’ murder. His expression and words go against it, though. With a small shrug, he mumbles, “Oh, it was nothin–”

“No, don’t do that,” you cut him off, “You did really well.”

“You would’ve gotten her to say a lot more in a lot less time. It takes you an average of five minutes and for–”

“Shut up,” a giggle.

“Would you please stop cutting me off?”

“Not until you admit that you are actually still amazing with kids.”

He sighs. “How’s Mr. Winston?”

“No, no!” you slap his arm playfully, “You don’t get to change the subject by mocking me for my friends.”

“I’m not mocking you,” Spencer raises his arms in defense, a smile brightening his face. “I’m trying to get to know you and your friends better. I can’t do that anymore?”

“Not if you’re mean about it,” arms crossed over your chest and a half fake pout on your lips, you mutter.

“When was I mean?” he cocks his head to the side.

“I can tell from your tone of voice. It gets higher and weirder when you lie. You’re not the only one who knows about psychology here, buddy.”

He just shakes his head with a laugh. “I’m being serious. How are they doing?”

“Well, if you must know, they’re doing amazing.”

“I’m glad.”

It takes 43 (he counted) chimes of the clock on the wall for anyone to say something again. It’s him, in a whisper, “Do you really think she liked me?”

00:09 doctor reid genius guy

Amelia’s aunt just picked her up. She said her bunny was now named Mrs. Winston.

[casdean-jenmish]

Just Stay • B. Barnes

Word Count- 3.8k

Tags- angst, there’s so much angst, married!bucky, y/n insert (cause I couldn’t be bothered for a name), there’s a child included, dad!bucky, hints at sex (very vaguely, sorry no smut this time), just a lot of angst guys

"You'll be okay bug, I promise daddy will home in the morning." I mumbled. Here I sat with my six year old daughter as she cried. Bucky has been gone helping Steve with some business in Wakanda for about two months, so it was just Rebecca and I. She hated when Bucky was away, even more than I did. Our nightly routine was always a movie, bath or shower time, brush time, bedtime story, and snug as a bug in a rug. Without Bucky here though, I could barely get her through her bath or shower without her crying that she missed her daddy.

It was absolutely heartbreaking for me every single time. We've tried calls before bed or facetiming, but Becca still gets upset. Even before she was born she was a daddy's girl. All Bucky had to do was talk to or lay a hand on my bump and she would calm down. And when she was born? Oh boy. You couldn't get Bucky to put her down for a second without watching her like a hawk. Poor Peter and Sam. The first time they had tried to hold her, Bucky was down their throats about be responsible and acting like an adult. Don't even get me started on when we joked about Rocket holding her.

"Mommy, why can't daddy just stay home? I hate when he leaves." Becca whimpered. My heart broke in half as she clung to her deer plushie. A gift from her Uncle Steve because as he called it, it was "a buck for a mini buck". I let out a small sigh and began rubbing my hand across her back. "I hate when he leaves too Beck, but he always comes back. I promise you that daddy will always come back." I said. I tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, running my thumb across her cheek to wipe a stray tear. "Tomorrow you can spend all day with daddy, but you got to get some sleep first bug." She let out a small sigh, but nodded her head. "Mommy will stay here until you fall asleep, okay?" She nodded again and reached out to wrap her small hand around my big one.

"I love you mommy." "I love you too bug."

I waited for her breathing to even out and small snores to start filling the room before I made my exit. I made sure I left her door ajar so the hallway light peaked in a little. Even if she wasn't scared of the dark, it made me feel better knowing she had some light. I took in a deep breath before making my way downstairs. Now just to wait on my husband. Steve should just be considered Bucky's mistress at this point. I rolled my eyes at the thought. I just miss my husband, doesn't mean I need to compare his best friend to a side piece.

I began picking up the living room, hearing the slight clink of the metal under my shirt. Bucky had given me his tags before he left for a three month mission. He said he wanted me to have a piece of him while he was gone. Part of me always wondered if it was actually because he didn't expect to come back from the mission. It was always a risk when he left. I always waited for the day that Steve would show up at my door without Buck by his side. I felt my heart weigh down in my chest at the thought of him not coming home one day. I could never make it without him.

After Becca was born, I never went on another mission. I stayed at the compound with her and the rest of the avengers. Depending on who was home, I practically didn't see Becca all day. Every time she needs fed or changed or burped or rocked to sleep, they would take her. Always telling me "go get some sleep, I've got her". It amazed me how quickly everyone fell in love with her.

Especially Vision and Loki. Loki would smack my hand anytime I tried to take her for nap time. Which was strange to me because Loki wasn't exactly fond of children to begin with. I had multiple photos of the god of mischief laying with Bucky and I's daughter tucked into his chest. Not that Loki ever needed to know about said photos.

When Becca turned two, Tony gifted Bucky and I our own home so we weren't cramped into the compound with everyone else. A three story house, six bedrooms, three full baths, fully decked out kitchen, in-ground pool in the backyard, finished basement, office area, and so much more. Bucky refused to take it at first due to his past with the Stark's, but Tony shut it down real quick. "I'm not saying I'll ever forgive you Barnes, but you aren't that man anymore. I don't think the winter solider would ever cry over a little girl getting her hair trimmed." Which lead to them fighting over if Bucky actually cried or not.

Just because I stopped missions though, doesn't mean the great White Wolf did. Steve and Tony both said that Bucky would continue to be a great asset to the team. I think Bucky truly didn't want to give up having the life he was used to. His whole life has been spent fighting and even if he hates it, it's practically his comfort zone. When he found out I was pregnant, it scared him. It absolutely terrified him because all he could think was 'i have taken so many other people's children, so why do i deserve my own'. It took weeks for the closest people around him to get it through to him that he deserved this as much as the next person.

The first four years weren't bad. I could handle him being gone for weeks, a month, or even two months. Sometimes even as long as four months. Here lately though, every time he walks out the door I'm worried I won't see my husband again. I know for a fact that it has a big affect on Becca. She loves her dad and if he's gone for more than three days, she's not her normal cheery happy self. I sat on the couch and sighed as I seen all the toys still scattered. I just want him home for a change.

————————————

I slowly open my eyes as I heard the shut of a door. I heard the footsteps of my husband begin to echo suddenly. What time is it? I looked up at the clock on the wall, only for the hands to be pointed at 2:48. Almost three o'clock in the morning. Four hours after he was supposed to be home. I huffed in slight annoyance making the footsteps come to halt. "Sweetheart?" I rolled my eyes and slowly sat up from my laying position. The footsteps began making their way towards me, but I was thrilled like I usually am. I was severely annoyed with everything.

"Why are you on the couch sweets?" I looked up seeing his concerned face staring down at me. I could see confusion slowly take over as he noticed the annoyed look on my face. "What's wrong? What happened?" I scoffed at his words. Of course. I stood up from the couch and made my to the kitchen, Bucky following close behind. "Why are you mad?" I could hear the worry in his tone. We weren't a couple that fought, mostly due to our pasts. We bickered and argued, but never got to the point where we were yelling at each other. It's the one type of fighting we always prevented from happening. Seems like I wasn't able to prevent this one though.

"It's almost three in the morning James, why am I mad?" I asked snapping my head over his way. I could see his face fall as he realized. "I was supposed to be home at eleven." He muttered. He ran his hand down his face while I just nodded. "I'm sorry. Steve needed me to stay for debriefing before we leave again tomorrow." He said. I just smiled and shook my head. "Of course he did." I snapped, slamming the cupboard shut. "Y/N, you know how these thing-" "Yes James! I know how the work! I understand that you have a job, you have a responsibility to the team, but what about our team? What about our daughter?!" Bucky looked at me with his eyes wide. I wasn't someone who yelled, at all.

"Sweets, I'm sorry. I know I'm not home much, but I'm trying so hard." I let out a dry laugh as I opened our dishwasher. "Not hard enough." It wasn't fair to say, I know how hard he tries. I know that he does the best he can to stay home and be available for work. "That's not fair Y/N and you know it." He said with a small hint of aggression in his tone. "No what's not fair is that you never seem to have time for our daughter! When's the last parent teacher conference you went to? When was the last dance recital you attended?! When did you last hug her goodnight? Or even-" "I get it Y/N! Got anymore ways to explain how much of a shitty father I am?!" Here it is, our first actual yelling match.

"She's cries every night for you! She misses you so much and you're never here anymore! We might as well be divorced!" I yelled. I immediately regretted the words when Bucky's angry face dissolved quickly. Instead he looked hurt, wounded even. The silence was suffocating, just like every night without him here. "Is that- are you saying you want a divorce?" I felt my heart start to crumble as his eyes watered over at the words. "Buck-" "You're getting divorced?" I quickly snapped my head over to see our daughter standing there with tears down her cheeks.

"Bug-" she quickly turned around, running back upstairs with sobs falling from her lips. Without a second thought I rushed up after her. I could fix the fight later, right now my buggy needs me.

My heart finished shattering when I walked into her room seeing her curled into a ball. The sobs leaving her lips was never what a mother wanted to hear. It was gut wrenching. I quickly made my way over to her bed, resting my hand on her back. "Becca, please don't cry." I whispered. She just shrugged my hand off of her and buried her head further into her pillow. I sighed as I felt defeat rushing through me. I looked over as I heard the floorboard creak quietly. There stood Bucky with almost the same look of defeat.

He walked in and sat beside Becca's bed. I watched as he reached his metal hand across to grab ahold of her small one. She loved that her dad was part 'robot'. I felt tears filling my eyes as Becca slowly turned her head towards her dad. Her small eyes swollen and her lips wobbly. "Why is my pretty girl crying?" Bucky asked. His tone as gentle as the hold he had on her hand. "Y-You and mom-mommy are getting a div-divorce." She hiccuped. God, I'm a terrible mother.

"Mommy and I are just having a disagreement right now princess, I promise-" "But you said you were! Don't lie daddy!" Becca cried, burying her face back into her pillow. Bucky sighed and leaned towards the bed. "Buggy, daddy and I aren't getting a divorce." I said, Bucky looked over at me with almost relief on his features. "Stop lying to me!" I sighed at her words. I moved closer and laid down beside her. "Sometimes things are said that shouldn't be said Bug, and that happened between daddy and I tonight. Mommy said things she shouldn't of. You know how when you're upset, you say things to mommy that you don't mean?" I asked. I smiled slightly as her small head nodded.

"Well, that's what mommy did. She got upset and said things she didn't mean." I said. I began rubbing her back, watching as she slowly pulled her pillow away from her. "There's my princess." Bucky whispered squeezing her small hand. "Why were you upset with daddy?" I heard her small voice ask. Oh, sweet girl. I looked over her head to see Bucky looking at me. The guilt on his face made me want to burst out in tears. "I was upset because I miss daddy so much." I muttered. His eyes watered as he looked at me.

Becca suddenly turned towards me with a look of remorse. I felt a tear fall from my eye as she placed her little hand on my cheek. "I miss him too, but remember what you told me mommy? Daddy always comes back. He always comes back because he misses us too." I let more tears fall as she looked at me with those sweet blue eyes. "He comes back because he loves us."

————————————

I sat with my knees tucked into my chest tightly. After Becca calmed down, she asked Bucky to read a story to help her go back to sleep. Instead of staying for story time I left the room. It gives Becca that time with Bucky she so desperately needs. She needs him, sometimes I think more than she needs me. I never viewed it as bad thing though, I knew that Becca loved me. It's just hard when she practically never sees Bucky, who is ultimately her favorite.

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a deep sigh. I need four years of sleep. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stood from my spot. I shimmed out of my sweatpants and walks over to the hamper of dirty clothes. It doesn't fill as fast anymore. I shook the thought from my head and threw the pair of sweatpants in. I flipped the light on to the walk-in closet and made my way around to find a pair of shorts.

I tensed as I heard the bedroom door slowly shut. And here it comes. I could hear the footsteps making their way towards the closet and it genuinely worried me. What was I supposed to say to him? "She's asleep." I heard him mutter. I couldn't bring myself to look at him though. It's our first ever fight, what was I supposed to say after the harsh words that left my mouth? "Baby, look at me." I felt the tears rush to my eyes as he stepped closer and closer to me. His hands circled around my waist and I felt my walls crumble.

"Sweet girl-" his words cut off when I let out a small sob. "I'm so sorry." I cried leaning against him. I heard a small sigh leave his lips before his head came to rest in the crook of my neck. "No, I'm sorry." It was so comforting to feel the words mumbled into my skin. "I know I'm gone too much. I know I'm not home as much as any of us want. I know it's hard on you and Rebecca." He knows, but he hasn't done anything to change it? Does he not want us anymore?

Almost as if he read my thoughts, the arms around my waist tightened. "I want to be home more, don't ever think I don't want to be here." He spoke, rubbing small circles on my hip. "Then why don't you stay?" I whispered. I felt him tense at the question, telling me that he was hiding something. What could it possibly be?

"Because I have a responsibility-" I let out a weak scoff and looked down at the floor. A responsibility to the team. "Don't do this, baby please don't." He whispered as I began to remove myself from his arms. "I forgot, the responsibility to the team is more important than your family. Sorry I asked you to come home tonight. I should've been more considerate and told you to stay at the compound. At least then you're only a shake away from the quintet to rush-" "Stop!" I tensed as I heard the anger in his voice.

"Why are you being like this tonight? Why is it all of the sudden an issue?" I let out a small laugh and turned to him. His features looked exhausted, hurt, and most of all? Guilty. "It's been a issue for months James! Months! But you're never home for us to have this fight! You're never fucking home anymore!" I could feel the tears building up with my last sentence. I just wanted him be home with his family, why is it so much to ask?

"You're never here anymore and it's killing me. I feel like I've lost my husband, my soulmate. We agreed to be parents the minute we discussed I was pregnant, so why does it feel like I'm a single parent doing all of this on my own?" Bucky put his back against the closet wall, slowly sliding down which each of my words. I could see the stress and tension weighing down his shoulders.

I bent down with him and grab ahold of his hands. "Buck, every time you walk out that door-" I stopped as the words got caught in my throat. I worry you won't come back. I felt the tears filling quickly as I tried to keep myself calm and collected. "I worry that I'm going to lose you." I cried.

He leaned his head back, allowing me to see the tears falling down his cheeks. "It's more than some responsibility, I know it is. So please tell me what's going on, tell me so I can help." I begged. He let out a small sob and squeezed my hands tightly in his. "She'll hate me. She'll find out soon and she'll just hate me, Y/N." Bug. He's worried about Bug finding out about Soldat.

"Those days are so far behind us. Baby, that girl worships the ground you walk on. She will understand that you were doing what you had to do to survive." I whispered. He was crying profusely, the idea of our baby girl despising him for his brainwashed past being overwhelming. "She won't be disgusted by you, just like I wasn't. That part is one of things I love the most about you, you know why?" I asked. Bucky looked at me, his eyes bloodshot from the tears. His lip was wobbly and the hurt was evident on his features.

"Because I know that it wasn't you. I know how hard you fought to be free from those chains. I know that you pushed your hardest to be the man that you are today. The man that cries every time he sees our wedding video. The man that worships every step our daughter takes. The man who dances with me in the kitchen at two am when he gets home, just to feel me in his arms. The man that loves with his whole heart and soul. The man who went from being a tortured soul to being a selfless hero." He closed his eyes tightly as cries left his lips.

"James Buchanan Barnes, you are the strongest, bravest, most selfless man I ever known. You are the love of my life. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." I said, resting my forehead against his. I felt my heart swell with love as he wrapped his arms around me, making me sit in his lap. He continued to let out cries as he held me close to him. "Don't you ever think your past will make us hate you. You are our baby girl's world." I whispered, placing small kisses along his beautiful facial features.

"I love you so much."

————————————

I let out a slight groan as I felt consciousness making it way through my body. I instinctively reached my hand out to Bucky's side of the bed, only to feel the cold sheets beneath the warmth of my hand. My eyes shot open to find an empty bed. My heart nearly split in half as I realized that he more than likely left early this morning. Yet another week of him being gone. Another week of an empty bed. It's exhausting constantly waking up and being depressed. Especially when you have another human being to take care of while you're trying not to break down and cry.

I flipped the comforter off my body, shivering at the cold air. It's even harder after you spend a night filled with nothing but pure love. Nights where it's nothing but being vulnerable with one another, just for him to be gone again in the morning. I held back the tears in my eyes as I stood from the bed. I walked over and grabbed the first sweater I could find. I threw it on to cover myself up, then threw my hair into a lazy updo. Time to wake up Becca and start our routine.

I opened up the bedroom door, only to hear the sounds of Rebecca laughter. She must be watching tv. I slept in too late for her. I sighed and ran a hand down my face before heading towards the steps. I can’t take this any longer. I once again fought back the tears as I headed down the steps. “Becs, turn the tv off so we can have some break-“ my words stopped as I seen my husband and daughter sitting on the couch together, hand in hand.

“Good morning Mama! There’s breakfast on the stove! Daddy didn’t want to wake you up.” Becca said smiling at me. She was quick to turn her attention back to the tv, Trolls was playing which meant no one mattered right now. I looked at Bucky, tears no longer being able to be held back. “Bug, I got to get up.” Bucky whispered making her nod. I held back the sobs as he walked over to me, his face filled with so much love.

“I’m on leave. Talked to Steve last night after you fell asleep. A mechanic job sounds nice right? Something simple and easy?” I couldn’t help the sobs that left that time. He wasted no time to scoop me up in his arms. “I’m home baby. For good. No more leaving, no more missions. It’s time to be home.” I held the back of his head, making sure he was kept close to me as I cried in his arms. “I love you so much sweets. I’m home.” I smiled as I let out a mix of a sob and a joy filled laugh.

“I love you more baby. I’m so glad that you’re home.”

[bittertasteofhoney]

Good Day Sunshine | Ch. 5

A Long, Lonely Time

Summary: Ellie throws you and Joel together for a dinner date, and the two of you don’t know whether to run or stay to find out what may happen.

|| less angst, more FLUFF, jackson!joel, jackson!joel x f!reader, little slow burn crest, domestic!joelmiller, awkward first date vibes, more Ellie interference||

Notes: Not me giggling and kicking my feet while writing this chapter!!! Domestic Joel just might be my favorite, oh my god. Should I make the next chapter a little smutty?

Also, two chapters in one day? I’m so sorry I could not be stopped. Don’t know if this will happen again, but making y’all wait for this did not feel right, so enjoy!!

Previous Chapter.

After Dina and Ellie left and you finished your shift for the day, nerves propelled you to your cupboards to see what measly ingredients you had to bring a good faith gesture to the Miller house that evening. You spotted the typical ingredients used in a cake, and luckily, a bag of lemons from the greenhouse overflow pile you brought home that evening. A lemon cake it was.

An hour later, the mixture was rising in the oven, and you were sorting through your pile of scrounged clothing to find something relatively new-looking to wear to dinner. Every single article either had a mystery stain, a hole, a burn mark or all of the above. You settled for a sundress found on one of the Jackson supply runs to a neighboring city, gifted to you by Roberta for your last birthday. She traded a week’s worth of flour rations and a brass ring she found after moving into her home.

You thought it a steep price for a birthday gift, but relatively new clothing in the apocalypse was a hot commodity. Of course, you somehow managed to stain it at some point, but you told yourself stains were the new black as you attempted and failed to scrub it out. 

After slipping it on, you pulled your hair into a loose braid and pulled the cake out of the oven to cool. Within the hour, you took the long path to the Miller house to get your nerves under control. It was going to be fine. It would be awkward, sure. This could be the first step to potentially being friends. Or at least, something more than whatever you currently were.

Once you were standing in front of the black front door, it took you another minute to scrounge up the courage to knock. After a few polite taps, the door swung open with an over-excited Ellie standing in the doorway. 

“Why did you wait so long to knock?” Okay, Ellie, a little grace would be nice. 

“Oh, I was just wondering if this was the right house. I’ve never been here.” The young girl tilted her head to the side. 

“It says Miller on our mailbox.” A nervous laugh escaped your lips.

“Oh my gosh, Ellie, I-”

“Hey.” You looked up at the sound of the deep, gruff voice. Holy. Crap.

Joel stood before you, towering and domineering, but not just in his everyday look. His hair was still wet from a recent shower, combed back, and he was wearing a shirt that looked stiff from hanging on the line. You felt your cheeks turn rosy. He looked goddamn delectable.

“Hi.” He nodded at you, looking everywhere but at your face. You saw his eyes zero in on your dress, but you weren’t ready to think about how that made you feel. 

Ellie leaned in towards you conspiratorially and whispered, “He actually did laundry for this.”

“Ellie!” Joel looked at his adopted daughter as if the floor just fell out beneath him. You brought a hand to your mouth to cover a snicker that fell flat once his eyes met yours. You mouthed a “sorry,” which he answered with a blush and a throat clearing. 

The three of you stood there awkwardly before you lifted the cake in your hands as an offering. “I, uh, made a lemon cake. For tonight.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You gave him a small smile.

“I did. I have a feeling Ellie just dropped this on you.” His sideways look at Ellie answered every suspicion you had about tonight’s dinner invite. He met your eyes, which caused your cheeks to turn redder and your gaze to fly to the floor.

Of course, Ellie stood between the two of you, smirking. “So, I completely forgot, but Dina asked if I would help with chopping wood for this week’s bonfire so I’m gonna go!” 

“Ellie, please don’t-”

“Ellie!” 

That little shit. She didn’t even pretend to listen to the two of you argue as she ran out the door, leaving you alone. With Joel.

You took a deep breath. “So, dinner?” Joel’s eyes were locked on the door.

“Yeah, dinner.” He wouldn’t look at you. You moved the dish to one hip and tentatively reached a hand out to gently nudge his arm.

“Joel, I can go. I didn’t mean to push in.” His eyes flew to yours.

“No! I mean,” A throat clearing. “No. You didn’t. Please stay.” You felt the breath leave your body at how soft his eyes looked. Good god, how was this man single?

You look at him, surprised, and he offered you a tilt of his lips. “I’m afraid I cooked, so it won’t be that good. Your pound cake will more than likely save the meal.”

You laughed and awkwardly followed him to the dining room as he led the way. You let your eyes land on various knick-knacks in the orderly living area. A few wooden sculptures. A sunken couch. A threadbare rug. Pun magazines? You were definitely going to ask about that at some point.

“Can I help with anything?” He began to shake his head, so you repeat his name in an exasperated tone. “C’mon, please? I need something to do with my hands. This feels like an awkward first date.” You tilted your head to the side. “I guess it is a first date of sorts. Ellie definitely set us up.”

The strangled sound that left that man’s body again had your hand flying up to your mouth to cover a giggle. “God, don’t sound so horrified!” 

“No, it’s not- I don’t mean to say it isn’t, I just-” You put another hand on his arm without thinking as a giggle finally escaped. 

“Oh my gosh, Joel, it’s fine! I’m sorry.” He let out a huff that might be the closest thing to a laugh you’d ever heard come out of his mouth. You looked at him for a minute as you two awkwardly shuffled on the spot.

“Do I smell chili?”

“Yes. It’s about the only thing I can cook well. Mostly cause it’s just tossin’ a bunch of things in a pot. I traded Tommy for some ground beef and I had tomatoes from this week’s pick up. So.” You smiled at how goddamn nervous this man was. It was cute.

“Sounds delicious. At least let me help you set the table.” He walked you to the kitchen, where you grabbed utensils and he grabbed plates from an upper cabinet you tried to and failed to reach. He gently moved you to the side after your failed attempt and directed you to the utensil drawer, chuckling to himself. 

After he filled two bowls with his concoction, you sat down and ate in tense silence, with the two of you swapping glances to see what the other was doing. Definitely a first date.

After you took your last bite, you looked up at him and waited for him to make eye contact. “I want to apologize.”

Another cough. You had to stop, or this man would choke before the night was over. “For what?”

“I guess for the drama from the past few weeks?” You licked the spoon clean before continuing, and Joel couldn’t help but let his eyes drift to your mouth, entranced. You kept talking without seeing Joel’s current fixation. “I know I didn’t exactly cause anything but I’m just sorry it happened. You and Ellie were still adjusting to life in Jackson so I can’t imagine it must’ve been easy handling petty drama and learning life in a new town.”

“It wasn’t petty. It was deserved.” You leaned on your arm, getting comfortable as you pushed your bowl to the center of the table. Joel felt warm in his chest watching you get settled at his dining table and smiled to himself. 

“What you said was wrong. It was hurtful but… I don’t know. I sort of get it. Not the hurting my feelings but I get the frustration and I guess, stress.” 

His eyes were filled with sincerity as he said, “No. I…forgive my language but I was an ass. I took my frustrations out on you, and I wasn’t fair. Not a word of what I said was true.”

You blushed and nodded. “Thank you.”

You sat in another minute of companionable silence, you smiling to yourself and him thumbing a groove in the table before you stood. “Cake?”

You began clearing the plates when Joel put out a hand to stop you. You playfully rolled your eyes. “Go cut the cake, Joel. I’ll just put these in the sink.”

Another pseudo-laugh-chuckle, and he stood. You noticed him flexing his hand and made a mental note to also ask about that later. “You want coffee?”

You spun to look at him over your shoulder with narrowed eyes. “What kind of question even is that?” That actually got a chuckle out of him. You smiled, relishing the win as he followed you into the kitchen. Your little domestic dance felt like what an alternate timeline with him could be like. Imagined domestic bliss with Joel? What was happening to you?

A few minutes later, he led you onto the front porch carrying two cups of coffee while you held the cake. You both sank into rocking chairs, swapping cake and cups of coffee. He leaned forward to take a bite of the cake, and a groan escaped his mouth.

You blushed at the downright erotic nature of the sound and coughed to cover it. 

“I can’t remember the last time I had a slice of cake this good. You made this?” You smiled and nodded. “You’re going to make some man very happy one day.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems odd to tie yourself down to someone in this world, but I guess it helps to have someone, given what we all go through.”

He shot a sympathetic look your way as you took a small sip of coffee. You gave him a sad smile. “We all have our little story.” You shrugged.

“Care to tell it? You don’t have to. But I’d like to hear.” You looked at your lap and pinched off a piece of the lemon loaf, taking a bite to bide your time.

“The condensed version? I grew up in Tennessee. Eight, when the outbreak happened. We were lucky for a while. I grew up on an apple orchard, so I didn’t experience the mania of those first days, but it didn’t take long for raiders to come knocking.” Your voice caught. 

“Those days were hard. I watched my dad get shot right in front of me, paralyzing him for the rest of his life.” You took a deep breath. “It actually took a few years for me to even see infected, and when I did, the fear that I felt… I truly knew the world was forever changed in that moment. We noticed them in a field across from our farm and stayed locked inside for days waiting for them to move on. Which they did.”

Your breaths grew clipped, and you brought a hand to your chest to still the increased pattering. Joel’s hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach out to you, surprising himself at how protective he still felt of you.

“But then a few years later, my mom got bit. She hid it from us because she was scared. And I know that now. But one night,” You met his eyes and he noticed yours were watery. “My dad and I were sitting on the porch and noticed her standing in the driveway watching the orchard. We noticed she was twitching so my dad called out to her. In a split second, she was on him, biting his neck.” You shook your head. “I was twelve at that point. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran.” 

Joel got out of his chair and knelt before you, reaching out to place a hand on your knee. You took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’ll say the rest quickly. Okay.” You blinked a few tears away. “She chased me into the orchards, and I had to use one of the axes to hit her. And I killed her.” You met his eyes, and he rubbed your knee comfortingly. “I didn’t even go back for my father.” You hiccuped.

“I just kept running. I was frightened out of my mind. I came across another group within a week, who took me in, and a few years later, Tommy found me in Nebraska and brought me here.” Joel rubbed your knee for a few minutes while you slowed your breathing. He just sat there offering support while you learned to just be again. 

Nervously, you met his eyes and saw that the softness was back. “Tommy can be a pain in the ass but I’m not surprised he took you in and brought you home.”

You let out a watery laugh. “Yeah, he loves picking up strays.” 

He shook his head. “No kid should have to go through what you did.” 

You shrugged. “We all went through some dark stuff. It wasn’t an exclusive experience.” The only answer you got to that was a sharp nod. A subject change was in order. “Tell me something good.”

For the next few minutes, he stood crouched before you as he told you about his life in Boston and his trek with Ellie. He skirted around a few things, obviously avoiding mentioning how he and Ellie exactly met or where her family was, but you listened intently. 

“And pre-outbreak?” 

He froze and in a clipped voice said, “I was a contractor. Had a daughter.” You froze.

“What was her name?” His gaze froze on the ground as he stood there, seeming to struggle to breathe. He stood and brought a hand to his mouth. 

“Sarah. Her name was Sarah.” His face was back to its uniform of all hard lines. You stood slowly, placing your coffee and cake on the ground and bringing a hand to his arm.

“I’m ready to listen if you want to talk about her. But only in your time. We can also talk about something else. I promise I have an abundance of embarrassing stories about your brother I can relay.” He huffed again in muted laughter. 

He shook his head, smiling to himself. “I don’t talk about her enough.” 

The two of you stood there as he told you about Sarah, about her incredible smile and her obsession with Dawn of the Wolf. He painted the picture of her killer spin kick during soccer season, and how their favorite thing to do together was watch cheesy horror movies. He never shared how she died, and you did everything you could to skirt around it, keeping him exclusively talking about her interests and their everyday life as a single dad and daughter. 

After the two of you settled back into silence, you let your gaze wander around the yard and porch until you spotted a guitar leaning against the home exterior. You gasped and beelined for it, Joel watching you curiously. 

“You play?” One of his hands shot to the back of his head, where he scratched nervously. 

“No, I-” You chuckled.

“Oh, fine. The man with the guitar doesn’t play. Obviously. But do you mind if I do?” 

He nodded slowly, clearly intrigued. You settled back into your chair, perched on the edge, while you checked the guitar’s tuning. After a few testing strums, you began plucking the strings, letting the familiar notes of Unchained Melody pierce the quiet. 

You sang along softly, closing your eyes as your fingers danced through the verses and choruses. Mostly out of nerves because you couldn’t bring yourself to watch Joel’s reaction, but also because a reel of moments with your family pre-outbreak was playing across your mind. 

Your mom in the apple orchard. Your dad teaching you to play guitar. Cooking breakfast. Running through the rows of trees.  

When you plucked the final string, you opened your eyes to see Joel watching you intently. You gave him a soft smile. “My mom and dad used to slow dance to that song.” 

He swallowed and nodded. And after a pause, “You wanna dance?” Your face tilted to meet his eyes, and a smile quickly broke out. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. 

He smiled and returned inside. Unsure of whether to follow or stay put, you nervously fiddled with the guitar strings until you heard the opening notes of More than Words by Xtreme spill out of the open front door. 

You smiled to yourself as Joel reemerged, reaching a hand out to you. “You know how to dance?”

You playfully rolled your eyes and chuckled again, placing your hand in his. “Yes, Joel. It’s the apocalypse, not the Stone Ages.” He mimicked your eye roll as you delicately settled into the appropriate stance. 

It took some awkward hand placement, but the two of you eventually began to sway. You first placed your hands on his shoulders and after a verse, linked them behind his neck. He took that as permission to lower his from your waist to your hips. 

As the song flowed over the porch and into the yard, you absentmindedly carded your fingers through his curls, humming along. He lifted a hand to grab one of yours. You froze, noticing you may have crossed a line, but he just held it in his hand as the song moved into the final chorus. 

You locked eyes and kept them there as the song finished. His gaze flitted to your lips, and for a charged moment, you let yourself nod, thinking maybe, just maybe, the two of you might move into strange but new territory together. Was all this tension simply attraction? He leaned in closer, and you felt your breath seize up. Was this really happening? 

As the song’s ending of guitar runs circled you, he brought your hand to his mouth and let his lips press to the work-worn skin. You inhaled sharply. 

As the song ended, so did your proximity and the two of you shot apart, fixing your clothes and clearing throats. 

“I should probably head back. It’s getting late.” He nodded to himself, listening but unable to meet your eye. 

“I’ll walk you.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s only a ten minute walk.”

“Please. I want to.” You stood there, staring at the man who looked ready to bolt but insisted on ensuring your safety. 

“Fine. But can I ask you something?” 

“‘Course.” 

“If I let you walk me home, will I get a kiss goodnight?”

The man turned as red as the garden tomatoes.

Tag List :) @silksepia @hello-nah817 @longlivetheloneliness @keseqna @millers-girl @treacherqus @lemonboi @spnfic85

[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 22

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 5.2k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 21 | Series Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 22

“Point those toes!” Ash reminded. You did as she said and heard the click of a shutter. “Alright, for the next one, I’m gonna have you bring your left hand up so your fingers are lightly on your collarbone like this - perfect.” She moved closer, rearranging the hair on your face and smiling. “And arch your back for me a little bit more, but only if it’s comfortable.”

Your lower back twinged, but you followed the instructions and were rewarded with multiple clicks of the shutter. “Gorgeous. Just a few more, and then we’ll move to the bed.” 

“Okay,” you said, having learned not to nod after she had to readjust your position the first few times. 

“Now I’m gonna have you trail your fingers down and rest them on your bump. Just like that!” Her enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. 

The boudoir photoshoot was a last-minute decision. At the beach, you’d seen a studio advertising maternity pictures, and it had stuck in your mind as you walked along the shore. With the waves crashing over your feet, you’d looked at the list of negative thoughts about yourself that Helen had you write down and fixated on one: Jake isn’t going to find me attractive. As much as your husband assured you that he thought you were sexy, it was hard to feel that way when your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. 

So, only half-heartedly, you’d contacted Ash to see if she had any openings. As fate would have it, one of her clients had gone into labor early, opening up a spot on her books that you took before thinking too hard about it. At 37 weeks pregnant, you didn’t think the pictures would turn out well, but if nothing else, they could serve as a Valentine’s Day gift for your husband. 

You stewed over your decision the entire way back to Lemoore, debating calling and canceling the appointment. Or asking to do a normal maternity one, where you could hide behind a flowy dress and put the attention on Sloane. Once home, you unpacked your weekend bag and stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a long time. Your eyes traveled over your hair, longer than you usually kept it, but going to the salon seemed like a hassle. The dark circles weren’t as prominent under your eyes, but you still looked tired. Stripping off your shirt and bra, you traced the stretchmarks marring your skin and the blue veins on your chest, weighed your heavier breasts, and studied your darker nipples. Forcing yourself not to fixate on your stomach, you tugged off your leggings and panties. Your legs and ankles were swollen from sitting so long, and you’d long stopped shaving when it became difficult to bend. 

Jake isn’t going to find me attractive.

The longer you studied your appearance, the more the thought echoed in your head. When it got too loud, you reached for your phone and quickly typed a message.

Can you talk?

The message was quickly marked read, and the phone vibrated in your hand. “Everything okay?” You could hear the tension in Jake’s voice and felt a momentary wave of frustration with yourself for doing that to him. It was almost time for him to go on shift, and you were - 

“Yeah,” you forced yourself to say, covering your eyes. “Just… I’m in my head about something.” During your fight the night before, you’d promised to call him if it happened. 

“Hang on - gimme a second.” The call sounded muffled momentarily, and you heard him talking to someone before he was back. “I’ve just got a few minutes before I need to get to the bay. What’s on your mind, Mama?”

“It’s stupid.” You could feel his disappointment through the open line.  

“Whatever it is, it’s not. Talk to me.” 

“I haven’t shaved or waxed my legs in weeks. Or, you know, done any upkeep.” Jake let out a confused huff. 

“Alright?”

“And my hair - on my head -  is so freaking long. I hate it. It’s so heavy and annoying.”

“Okay.” 

“I’m mad at myself for not taking care of my appearance, even though I know it shouldn’t matter. And I know… I know you’re gonna say that you love me and you think I’m sexy no matter what, but we haven’t seen each other for months, and I want to look good for you when you come home, and I just know that’s not gonna happen and - ” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he interrupted your rambling. “Darlin’ - you know how I feel about how you look.”

“I know. Logic brain knows that, but emotion brain just doesn’t understand it,” you whined.

“What’d Helen say to do?” 

“Challenge the thought with evidence, and replace it with a realistic alternative.” Your tone sounded petulant to your own ears, and you heard Jake chuckle. 

“Alright, so what’s goin’ through your head right now?” 

“How much I hate this.” When he grunted, you sighed. “You’re gonna be grossed out by me when you come home. I always imagined your homecoming from our first big deployment differently. Sexy lingerie, maybe a trip out of town… different. And you’re gonna be disappointed because it’s not gonna be like when you got home from Vegas or San Diego.” You could only describe the sound he let out as a growl.

“Evidence?” he managed to grind out between his teeth. 

“I look different than before you left. I put in a lot of work before I came out to see you, and I haven’t felt up to doing it this time. I’m gonna be post-partum when you get home, and I’ll probably look even more run down than I do now.”

“What about against?” 

“You…” The evidence against the thought was more challenging to articulate. “I don’t know.”

“You sure as hell do, darlin’.” Jake’s tone left no room for disagreement. “You at home, darlin’?” When you hummed a yes, he cleared his throat. “I want you to go to our bathroom and look at yourself.”

“Already doing that,” you sighed, a weary smile tugging at your lips. “Hence the thoughts.”

“Good. Now prove to me you’ve been listening when I talk to you.” When you hesitated, he hissed your name. 

“You think I’m beautiful.” The words tasted wrong on your tongue. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful.”

“And sexy.”

“Damn straight.”

“You weren’t turned off by how I looked when we saw each other a few months ago.” He grunted. “And you seemed to like the pictures I sent you last night.”

“Fuckin’ love ‘em,” he corrected before clearing his throat. “You remember what I told you when I bent you over the sink?”

Stepping closer to the vanity, you ran your fingers over the spot, thighs clenching at the memory of his hand between your shoulders and that cowboy hat on his head. “That you wanted to keep me in bed, moaning your name.” But it was his moan that echoed over the line.

“Pretty sure I said somethin’ about my pretty little wife havin’ my baby bein’ the sexiest woman ever.”

“I’m definitely not little anymore,” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your stomach.

“Even better. You’re makin’ me hard before duty, thinkin’ about you, Mama.” 

“Better or worse that I’m naked right now?” 

“Fuck,” he hissed, and you heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper. “Don’t have a lotta time, but goddamn - talk to me.” 

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Bout ‘ta fuck my fist with your voice in my ears,” Jake replied. “Wish it was you.”

“My hand? Or something else?”

“Anything. Hand, mouth, pussy, tits - just wanna touch you.” Your cheeks flushed at his groan, and you cupped your breast, thumbing your nipple. An image of you on your knees, Jake thrusting between your breasts, flashed in your mind. It wasn’t something you’d done before, and the thought made your breath hitch. “Gonna touch yourself with me, darlin’?” 

“Wanna see you.”

“Don’t have time,” Jake grunted. “What‘re you doin’? Talk to me.”

“Touching my breasts,” you breathed. “They’re starting to get sore again. And they feel like they’re getting even bigger.” 

Jake breathed your name. “Gonna walk around the house topless again? Not there to kiss ‘em better this time.” 

Chuckling, you pinched your nipple, inhaling sharply and imagining it was his teeth. “Soon.”

“Not soon enough. You still in the bathroom?” When you hummed an affirmative, he sighed. “Look at yourself, darlin’. So fuckin’ sexy. Wanna bend you over the sink again and fuck you until you understand how goddamn much I love how you look. But you know what I’d do first?” 

“What?” 

“Get on my knees, put your leg over my shoulder, and fuck you with my tongue.” You blew out a shaky breath, recalling the feel of your fingers in his hair as he devoured you. “You touchin’ my pussy yet, darlin’?” 

“No.” His chuckle was low and dangerous.

“Put me on speaker and set the phone on the sink.” Wordlessly, you did as he said, then cleared your throat. “Done?” When you made a noise, he chuckled again. “Good girl. Now, get your fingers nice and wet for me.” Looking away from your reflection, you sucked on your fingers. “Want you to pinch your nipples while touching your clit. Understood?” 

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander,” you smirked, hearing his answering moan. 

“Oh fuck.” It was your turn to chuckle.

“Like that, Lieutenant Commander Seresin?”

“Playin’ dirty, Mrs. Seresin.” You inhaled sharply as you circled your clit. “Fuck I miss you. Not just fucking you. Miss holding you. Kissing you.” Not feeling particularly turned on, you moved your hand, bracing yourself on the sink. 

“I miss you, too,” you said. “Miss your voice first thing in the morning when you’re not quite awake. Cuddling on the couch. And when you wake me up, asking if you can play.” Jake moaned, and you cupped your aching breasts. “Your fingers always feel so much better than mine when you touch me.”

“Love when you ride my hand. An’ my face.”   

That made you chuckle, and you tapped your phone to navigate to a picture of him you’d taken at your old apartment. He’d sprawled on your couch, arms outstretched toward you with an exaggerated pout on his lips. If you tried hard enough, you could almost imagine the heat of him as he held you. The scratch of his stubble on your forehead as he kissed you there. You could practically feel his skin under your fingertips as you dragged them from his shoulder down his arm, drawing nonsensical shapes. “I miss touching you,” you sighed. 

“Fuck, baby,” Jake panted. “I can’t wait.” Straightening, you plucked the nearly empty bottle of his cologne from the sink and retreated to the bed. Spritzing it onto his pillow, you set the phone on it and inhaled deeply.

“I love you, husband.” 

Jake groaned a familiar groan, and you smiled while closing your eyes, picturing him spilling over his hand. “Love you, darlin’.”

“God. Damn,” Ash grinned, and you felt your face flush as she snapped more pictures. “I’m gonna just move these a little -” you felt her reach between your breasts to rearrange Jake’s dog tags, the metal cool on your skin “- and pull this back a bit.” She shifted the collar of his blue jacket to just cover your nipple before fiddling with it to make the ribbon bar lie flat. Keeping your eyes closed, you took a deep breath and twirled your engagement ring around your fingers. Sloane squirmed, and it took all your willpower not to move your hand from where Ash had posed it over your head, resting on the arm of the chaise lounge. A small smile tugged at your lips when you pictured Jake’s hands on your stomach, recalling how he would chase the smallest twitch your daughter made. His chuckle, warm in your ear, when he felt her foot thump against his palm. His cheek against your skin as he talked to her while you ran your fingers through his hair. 

Only a few more weeks until he would be home. 

Until you would meet your daughter. 

After guiding you through another series of poses, including another outfit change that consisted of panties and gauzy material that Ash draped around you as you held it against your breasts, you were done. Still feeling a bit foolish, you dressed in your leggings and Jake’s overstretched Naval Academy sweatshirt. Ash was uploading the pictures to her computer when you came out of the dressing room. Her eyes drifted over you for a moment before she grinned. “As soon as these finish uploading, I want to get a couple of you in that.” 

“This?” you frowned.

“Yeah. You look comfortable and sexy. It won’t take too long.” Reluctantly, you let her lead you back to the set and helped you get comfortable against the bed headboard. She took photos of you playing with your hair, cradling your stomach, and resting a coffee cup on your belly, which made you grin while remembering Jake’s ban on anything but water in bed. But her favorite was when she had you sit on the edge, legs outstretched with the sweater tucked under your breasts, leggings rolled down under your belly, with NAVY prominent across your chest. 

“Jake’s gonna love that one,” you smirked when she showed it to you. 

“I hope so! I’ll get these edited and over to you in the next three weeks.” After thanking her, you left the shop and headed to the beach for a quick walk along the water. 

For the first time in ages, you somewhat felt like yourself. You’d gotten your hair cut and scheduled a wax for the photoshoot. The feeling of clean sheets on your bare legs after visiting the esthetician had been glorious, although the bikini wax had been more painful than you remembered. Ash’s partner had done your hair and makeup for the day before leaving, allowing you privacy in the studio. Feeling slightly emboldened, you snapped a selfie of yourself and sent it to Jake.

Twenty minutes later, the phone vibrated and Jake’s face flashed on the screen. “Hey!” you grinned while answering, the wind whipping across the microphone and muffling your words.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said. You pressed a hand to your ear and held the phone tightly. “You still at the beach?”

“Yeah, about to go get lunch, then head home.”

“Well, get something good to celebrate.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.  

“Ten-day window approved - there’s a possibility I’ll be home before Valentine’s Day.”

Three weeks.

Before your due date.

“WHAT?!” you shrieked. Jake’s laugh was warm, and you waddled quickly up the beach toward your car to try to hear better. The sand made you feel slightly off balance, but you hurried and hoped you wouldn’t fall. 

“It’s just a possibility, but there’s a chance I’ll make it home in time to take you to the hospital and meet our little girl.” You burst into tears and clapped a hand to your mouth. “Hey - hey, darlin’, it’s alright. This is a good thing.”

“I’m j-just s-so relieved,” you sobbed. As you neared the parking lot, you tugged the car keys from your pocket and unlocked the car, collapsing into the driver’s seat. 

“Me too, Mama, me too. D’ya…” Jake paused to clear his throat. “I, uh, heard that first babies usually come late. Do you think Sloane will? Maybe give me some extra time to make sure I’m there?” 

Your daughter’s foot was in your ribs, making it somewhat hard to breathe, so you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths before responding. “I-I have an appointment with Dr. Shearer in a few days, and she said she’d check if I’m dilated at that point.” 

“Keeping my fingers crossed that you aren’t.”

“M-me too. O-only because I love you.”

“Yeah? Only because you love me?” he teased. 

“Yup,” you laughed. “I’m over being pregnant.” 

He sighed, and your fingers itched to touch him. “I know, darlin’. Just hold on a little bit longer for me.” 

“I don’t think that little girl is coming anytime soon,” Dr. Shearer said, pushing away from the exam table and removing her gloves. “You’re not dilated, only 10% effaced, and still carrying high.” 

“Thank god,” you breathed, resting a hand on your belly. The doctor laughed, typing something on her laptop.

“Most moms at this stage can’t wait for it to be over.”

“I am so ready to be done,” you said, a hint of a whine sneaking into your tone, “but the longer she waits, the happier Jake will be. He asked her to stay put as long as possible before he left, and when I went out to visit. And…” The part of you that grew up with OPSEC - operations security - and the reminders that went out anytime a ship was deployed, warred with the need to tell your doctor. If the homecoming date leaked, the Navy would change it to ensure everyone was safe, usually pushing it out further. You’d joined the Family Readiness Group social media page for the Carl Vinson to keep tabs on the carrier’s updates, and the page was filled with OPSEC reminders. 

“And?”

Closing your eyes, you blew out a breath, reasoning that you weren’t giving an exact date. The memory of your husband’s voice, the hope and love and anxiety, made tears leak from the corner of your eyes. “And there’s a chance Jake will make it home.” 

“What? That’s amazing!” 

“We don’t have an exact date,” you said, trying to push down the wave of hope you refused to let drag you under. With your luck, their homecoming would be at the end of the 10-day window. Getting your hopes up felt dangerous, like tempting fate to prove you wrong. “But there’s a chance.” 

Dr. Shearer chuckled, turning to face her computer again. “Well, baby Seresin is a safe size to stay in there for a bit longer.”

“I’m not sure how much bigger she can get and still have space.” You felt Sloane nudge your hand, as though knowing you were talking about her. You’d been feeling strange tension at the top of your stomach and around your belly button for days, and shooting pain down your legs as your ligaments loosened further. 

“Space is getting a bit tight, but she’s still got room to grow and move.” Dr. Shearer moved to your side and helped you sit up. “How’ve things been at home?”  

“Good. I feel like the meds are working, and I’ve been meeting with Helen once a week.” 

“That’s good! And do you have your plan for when this one decides to come?” 

“Yeah - Javy’s already mapped out the fastest routes from the house to the hospital. Our friends are talking about rotating someone sleeping at the house in case I go into labor overnight, but I told them it wasn’t necessary.” 

“Sounds like you’ve got a supportive group of friends.” As much as you appreciated the offer, it was overwhelming. It had also caused a big argument, with Jake siding with everyone else until you put your foot down. Having someone stay with you felt like being under observation. Just because you were a couple weeks from having the baby didn’t mean you needed to be under constant supervision, and your friends didn’t have to uproot their lives.

Grimacing, you asked the question Jake had requested. “Do you think I need someone to stay with me?” 

“Medically speaking, you and this little girl are both in good shape. And unless something drastically changes in the next few days, I don’t think you’ll be in active labor anytime soon. It wouldn’t surprise me if you start having some contractions, but that’s normal. So if you have a plan, a back-up plan, your bag is ready to come to the hospital, and you agree to call if anything comes up that you’re unsure about… Moms stay home by themselves all the time.” 

“Thank god,” you groaned. “I love our friends, but I don’t want people in my house all the time.” Dr. Shearer laughed.

“Understandable. Have you given any thought to when you’re going to start your maternity leave?”

“I want to wait. I still have things to wrap up and… I can’t sit at home alone, just waiting.”

The doctor gave you a knowing look. “I’m sure you’re tired. Are you sure you don’t want to spend these last few weeks relaxing?” Of course, she was right. It was almost impossible to get a full night’s sleep with how difficult it was to breathe, and something always woke you. Getting back to sleep was an exercise in futility, so you cleaned the house at all hours of the night. 

Now, knowing that Sloane and Jake would arrive soon, you needed to scrub the house from top to bottom. Between birthing classes and work, you knew that housework had fallen to the wayside. Jake wouldn’t blame you for not thoroughly cleaning the house, you told yourself when sitting on the couch after work, but your father-in-law's words had woken you in the middle of the night and refused to stop echoing in your head.

A man should be able to leave on deployment and know that his woman’s takin’ care of his home.

Jake prided himself on keeping his home clean. While you’d successfully broken him of hospital corners when making the bed, he made sure the house was picked up every night and spent a few hours on the weekend cleaning. With him gone, you’d defaulted back to your natural state of cleaning on the weekend and letting chores pile up during the week. The idea of him coming home to realize you hadn’t deep-cleaned the bathroom or dusted the blinds in a few months made you flush with embarrassment. So you’d made a list of things to do and slowly chipped away at them in the midnight hours. And, as much as you despised cleaning the baseboards, not only for the task but the difficulty of getting up from the floor, it was satisfying to see the house return to normal. 

So between work, not sleeping, and cleaning, you were exhausted. But not to the point of just sitting around the house. You still loved walking the flight line and feeling Sloane wiggle her approval when the jets flew. If the Daggers set eyes on you at work - and they usually did, swinging by to have lunch or chat - you could usually have a night at the house alone. Which was perfect, because as soon as you got home, your clothes came off. Everything felt uncomfortable, and your feet hurt, so walking around the house in your underwear was a daily experience. 

“I’m fine,” you assured Dr. Shearer. “I’m taking it easy. Besides, Jake’ll have 12 weeks of paternity leave, too, and we want to spend as much of it together as possible.” 

“Just make sure you don’t push yourself too hard. And I’m keeping all my fingers crossed that he’ll be here when the time comes.”  

The next few weeks passed in a haze, punctuated by anxious visits with the doctor. Jake called daily, and you felt a thrill every time the time difference decreased - he was getting closer to home. 

The homecoming date had been set for two days after Valentine’s Day. The news had been hard, and you knew your husband hated delivering it after getting your hopes up. Once you’d hung up the phone, you sat in the living room and stroked your stomach. “Sloane, I know your daddy asked you to stay in there, and I’m gonna ask you to do the same. I know we’re both uncomfortable, but we can hang on for a little longer, alright?” 

The saving grace was that your appointments with Dr. Shearer continued to go well. You had a minor panic attack when she told you that you were 2 centimeters dilated, but she quickly talked you down and reminded you that it didn’t mean that you would be delivering anytime soon. That you’d only progressed an additional centimeter at the next appointment helped. 

With Jake’s prodding, you officially started maternity leave the week of your due date. As much as you wanted to save the time to spend with Sloane once she arrived, it was getting harder for you to get to work. “I’ll be home in a few days,” he promised. “Once I’ve done my inprocessing, we’ll have the time together before our little girl gets here.” 

That was what got you through the week. Sleeping in on that first day was glorious, but you woke up with a backache and ended up lying on the couch with your pregnancy pillow because your pelvis hurt so much. Between naps and trash television, you cleaned the house and ran errands. While shopping at the Commissary, you had to pause in the aisle and grip the cart handle when a cramp hit you. Thankfully, it didn’t last long and didn’t happen again until you were sitting in Jake’s truck as you ran it through the car wash. 

When Ash sent you the boudoir pictures, you stared at them in shock. That couldn’t be you. The woman in the photographs was gorgeous, a teasing smile curving her lips. Ash had to have put a lot of work into editing them. The longer you flipped through the proofs, the more you felt like crying. Finally, you put the laptop away rather than send in your selection for her to print. If you let Jake see them, he would pick which ones he wanted. 

On Valentine’s Day, Jake surprised you with flowers. The red and white roses sat on the kitchen counter, and you ran your fingers over the petals throughout the day while rereading the card.

Happy Valentine’s Day, darling. Only a few more days until I’m home, and hopefully not much longer until our daughter arrives. Meeting you on the flight line was the best thing that ever happened to me. Your man in a bag, conflict of interest, and loving husband - Jake

You took the card with you into the bathroom as you sank into the tub, hoping the lukewarm water would help with the pain you felt in your groin and back. When Jake video called, the tub had already cooled and been refilled a few times. “Hey, darlin’,” he grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” you sighed, shifting to try and get comfortable. “Just relaxing in the tub. Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy. I love my flowers.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mama. I couldn’t find any blue ones from our wedding, so I thought roses would do.” 

“You thought right - they’re gorgeous. Only thing better would have been you dropping them off instead of the delivery guy.” 

“I know. I’ll be home soon.”

“I’m counting the hours, Lieutenant.”

“You and me both, Mrs. Seresin. Are you sure you want to meet me on the flight line? I can have Javy drive me home.” 

“Not happening. I want to see you as soon as you land. Besides, your daughter loves the flight line, and I’m sure she’ll be moving up a - ” Your breath caught as a cramp hit hard. Your free hand shot to your stomach, feeling the tightness under your skin. 

“Darlin’?” Worry flashed across Jake’s face, and you dangled the phone over the side of the tub, unable to keep the grimace of pain from your expression. He called your name, and you forced yourself to breathe through it before raising the phone back up.

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t - are you alright? What was that?” he demanded. 

“Nothing. Just a cramp. I’ve been having them off and on for the last few days.”

Jake’s brows furrowed, and he tilted his head. “A cramp or a contraction?”

“A cramp,” you said quickly. “I’m not having contractions.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.” His face said he didn’t believe you, so you changed the subject. “Are you all packed?”

“Yup. Ready to toss everything in my travel pod and get the hell off the carrier.” At his prodding, he shared what he could of his day and how he was wrapping up everything for the deployment. When another cramp hit, you tried to hide the pain but noticed him glancing at his watch. “Darlin’...” he said gently.

“It’s nothing, Jake. Did you want to do anything right away when you get home? I picked up stuff from the store, but we can go somewhere.”

“No, I wanna go right home,” he said. 

“Good. Me too.” While you updated him on how you were passing your days, another cramp hit. 

“Darlin’, can you do me a favor?” he asked once you breathed through the pain. 

“What?” you asked, pulling the drain plug with your toes in preparation for refilling the tub with warm water. 

“Can you please go get check out? I’m pretty sure you’ve had three contractions while we’ve been talkin’ these last 30 minutes.” 

“I’m not having contractions, Jacob,” you snapped. “First babies are always late. Dr. Shearer told me it would be a while and we’d talk induction at our next appointment.” He sighed your name, and you shook your head. “No. It’s not happening. We’re two days away from you getting home. I’m not in labor. I’m just uncomfortable.”

“I swear to god, darlin’, if you have our daughter in the bathtub, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“It’s a good thing that’s not gonna happen.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head. 

“Please, darlin’. For me?”

“Hypothetically, even if I were in labor, the contractions aren’t close enough for me to go to the hospital. Dr. Shearer said not to worry until they’re consistent and a few minutes apart.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have someone check.” 

The call continued that way for the next twenty minutes, Jake trying to cajole you into going to the hospital while you adamantly refused. His expression tightened when you held your breath as another cramp hit, not even trying to hide that he was timing it with his watch. 

You were so focused on trying to breathe through the pain that it took you a moment to realize that there was noise in the bedroom. “Jake?” 

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I think someone’s in the house,” you said through gritted teeth. As you watched, he blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Good. Don’t be mad.” Sitting up, you felt water slosh over your belly and scowled when you recognized someone calling your name.

“You didn’t.”

“I love you.”

Knocking sounded on the bathroom door, and you groaned. “I’m gonna give you two minutes to get your ass out here before you, me, and Hangman will just have to deal with the fact that I’ll see you naked, because my goddaughter is not being born in the goddamn tub. You hear me? Don’t think I’m playin’,” Javy warned. 

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

Author's Note: A major kudos and thank you to @bartonsparrow25 for the boudoir shoot suggestion! That was a fun inclusion.

Major apologies for the time between updates. Life has been life-ing and I'm prepping to take my licensing boards in the next few weeks. But hopefully this chapter makes up for it! We're so close to the finish line!

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[razorblade180]

A Musical Memory

Weiss*reading*

knock knock knock

Weiss:It’s opened.

Jaune:*walks in* Hey Weiss.

Weiss:!? Jaune? *stands up* H-Hi! Are you okay? Is there a meeting going on or…

Jaune:No, it’s been pretty quiet the last couple of hours. I just haven’t gotten the chance to tell you happy birthday.

Weiss:Oh! Right, I don’t know how that slipped past me.

Jaune:Has no one told you?

Weiss:They have. Ruby did her best to make my type of coffee. It was a whole thing; I probably have to brush twice as hard to get all the sugar. Hehe, I guess I sorta put the rest of the day behind me.

Jaune:Yeah. We’ve definitely been busy one way or another. But I’m relearning the importance of taking a moment in. On that note… * pulls out gift*

Weiss:You bought me something!? Aw, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you. *takes it*

Jaune:You haven’t even opened it yet.

Weiss: Call me an optimist. We need some of that these days.

She unwrapped a small rectangular box and opened it. Inside was something she had long since forgotten; it was pendant in the shape of her family crest, but the complex sigils inside were replaced with a single music note.

Weiss:A Snow Note. This is from my first major recital. They came with albums. Jaune, how did you-

Jaune:Was walking around the market today. Plenty of people have been selling and praising things they took before leaving Atlas. My family has actually been to a few of your performances so I recognized it right away. Thought it would be a shame if it didn’t end up with someone who really appreciates-

The smallest tap on the cool metal brought his attention back to Weiss’s eyes and the tears that flowed like a river. Not even she had realized at first that she was crying until she noticed the boy’s worried expression. Her hand brushed across her face to reveal the reason for his silence. Weiss sat back down on the edge of her bed, frantically rubbing the tears away. It didn’t take long at all for Jaune to sit by her.

Weiss:I’m fine! Totally fine! Wow that… hehe, really snuck up on me! I’m sorry.

Jaune:Nothing to apologize for. If you wanna talk, I’m here for you. If that’s okay?

Weiss:It just kinda hit me how long it’s been since I’ve been on a stage; me standing front and center. Ready to sing my heart out. Don’t get wrong, there was a lot of functions and recitals that I wouldn’t greatest. My father sure planned a lot to save face. If there was one thing that was genuine though, it was the music. Hours of singing and lights before crisp air outside of a coffee shop for another well done performance.

Jaune:You were drinking coffee that young?

Weiss:Back then it was hot chocolate. Extra syrup. Wasn’t really good for the vocal cords, but Klein always made sure it made it in my cup. Siiigh *frowns* It’s ironic really. I spent so long running away, now every day I miss that frigid air; those plowed roads that made walls tall enough to duck for cover in a snowball fight. Can’t believe it’s all gone….

Jaune:….Alright. I’ve decided. I’ll help you rebuild.

Weiss:What?

Jaune:Yeah. Eventually when this is all over, people are gonna rebuild their lives as best as possible. That includes the kingdoms. Never really thought about what I should do when the fighting is over. Now I do.

Weiss:You choose to help rebuild a kingdom you’re not even from?

Jaune:Yeah! I mean you’re probably going to help Vale along with your home. It’ll be a perfect use of my time. Someone has to help plan and organize job priorities as well as task management. And I just so happen to have decades of experience. *grins*

Weiss:You- pfft, hahaha. Yeah, I suppose you do.

Jaune:*grinning* It’s a perfect use of my skills! Brick by brick. Day by day! We’ll build a better place meant for Atlas and Mantle locals! That includes a nice big stage the day it’s finally completed where you can welcome everyone back home. I’m talking spotlights and ribbons; people watching the girl that helped saved the world with her own two hands pick up the pieces, and redefine her name sing like an angel while dancing to beat. Big smiles everywhere followed by clapping as everyone thinks, “Wow, she really can do it all.”

Weiss:*blushing*Is…that what you think of me?

Jaune:…Umm, yeah. I think you’re pretty amazing. *red* A gift that keeps on giving.

Weiss:Ah, I see. I’m happy you think so highly of me. *puts pendant away*

Jaune:Not wearing it?

Weiss:I’d be beyond furious with myself if something happened to it. I want it in perfect condition, so I’ll wear it on stage when the day comes. Though if that’s the goal, I should start singing again. I’m sorely out of practice. It’s actually embarrassing. You’d also need to brush up on guitar most likely.

Jaune:Me!?

Weiss:Yes you! A grand stage gets lonely. Plus it’s also your achievement. Celebrating together would only be right. I recall your skills being pretty good all things considered.

Jaune:Is that so? Huh… didn’t realize you heard them so well through the slammed door.

Weiss:Okay, we didn’t have to bring that up! *grins* Way to kill a mood.

Jaune:Really? You’re smiling again.

Weiss:…You’re so ridiculous.

The both of them shared a light hearted smile and laugh. Any reason for tears felt forgotten. As the laughter faded, they found themselves closer than before. Not only emotionally, but physically; how long have their hands been touching?

Something told Weiss to lean closer ever so slightly, watching for a response.

Her heart started sinking when Jaune didn’t move. Heat rose to her face and she began to retreat, only to notice a sadness grow in his as she did. All it took was a subtle flinch forward by him for Weiss to take the plunge. She leaned in again, stopping at nothing until warm, anxious lips gently pressed against hers. Time itself seemed to stop for this moment, capturing it for the rest of their lives until Weiss slowly leaned back again to see his face match her. Was his hand shaking, or was it hers? Weiss had no clue, but her heart was definitely pounding. Suddenly she couldn’t look him in the eyes. Instead she stared at the hand she held.

Weiss:I…I know things are very weird and crazy and… a lot right now. There’s so much to do all the time but I really need you to know I uh, I really like who we are. What we’re trying to be as people. Having these talks about anything and everything, they make everything easy to carry. You make everything easier to carry. This doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want but…I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel something wonderful.

Jaune:…Every night I spent alone, there wasn’t a moment that went by where I didn’t miss you all. That being said, every time I thought of your smile and how I probably wouldn’t see it again, the ache in my chest grew worse. Weiss, I like who we are too and our talks. I like…us.

Butterflies. That’s all she could feel as she raised her head to see the same fear in his eyes that was in her heart. Weiss’s lips quivered between smiling and crying again as her eyes watered. All the same, she leaned in again. This time his arms wrapped around her torso and her jewel while her hands cradled Jaune’s face. For the first time in a while, loneliness didn’t feel so overwhelming. How could it with someone close enough feel all of you; to hold all of you down to your soul. Both of them knew this was only a step into a direction they wanted and not the solution. Still, this moment…

It was a gift Weiss was dead set on keeping. And who knows? Maybe one day, it’ll be her first love song.

[ghostgirl-22]

p link

https://x.com/gaysexgang/status/1910790340375650451?s=46&t=oY926O_azsr0obp_vsHH7w

this with artrick <3

Hmm not sure if you’re the same anon… or just on the same wavelength but yes… Patrick’s absolutely gonna risk his professional license to fuck Art lol <3

CW: MDNI, NSFW, so… heed the warnings!! theres a little hint of dub con/cnc that’s resolved in the end, Patrick’s a licensed professional behaving unprofessionally, if behavior like this triggers you please dont read.

——

Patrick loves his job really. And he’s good at it. He’s never ever done anything like this. He’s a professional. Really. He honestly didn’t mean for it to happen. 

It’s just he’s actually the prettiest thing Patricks ever seen in his five years training and working as a masseuse (probably the prettiest thing he’s seen ever). Goldilocks curls, haunted blue eyes, tall but in an awkward gangly way… like he grew too quickly between 12 and 13 and never quite figured it out. Standing in front of Patrick, looking down at the ties on his robe, shy. 

Patrick didn’t mean it. But he did get hard just at the sight of him. Thankful that their uniforms come with an apron that is so long and loose. Honestly he took one class in college… freshman psych before he dropped out and from what little he remembers, this should be in the DSM. Trying to think when you’re horny. It’s a condition really. He can’t believe no one’s ever thought of this before. His psych professor would be so proud if he won the noble prize for being the first person to discover thinking with your dickitis… or whatever… a real and true condition. 

Patrick’s so hard and the client hasn’t even gotten naked yet. 

The client being Art Donaldson. What a fucking name. Patrick almost laughs when he spots it on the chart in front of him. 

“Okay um…Art…. first time?” 

“Mmhm… my fiancé got it for me, birthday gift,” Art says, soft little smile. Beautiful smile. If Patrick was a better person he’d go back in the lobby and get Sammie to ask another masseuse to take over. Especially now that there’s a fiancé. A beautiful boy with a fiancé. So very much off limits. But Patrick’s not a better person. He’s got this condition…

”So I’m Patrick…and it’s easy… just um… you can take off the robe and get on the table.” 

Art is compliant, shrugging the robe off and dropping it on the empty chair near the door of the suite. He’s deceptively solid for appearing so skinny. Bare chest chiseled, body stretched with lean corded muscle, pink nipples erect, his skin looks so soft over firm biceps. The small little towel is the only thing keeping his modesty and he’s blushing. God he’s turning fucking pink. Patrick almost unzips and starts jerking it right there. Strangled moan caught in his throat that he quickly swallows down as Art crawls onto the table, resting on his back. 

“Uh I usually start with you… with you on the… face down.” Words aren’t working for him anymore but only cause this is the prettiest boy Patrick’s ever seen. It’s like he was constructed in a lab based on all of Patrick’s masturbation fantasies. The only thing he could be doing to enhance the fantasy is be in some sort of uniform. 

“Oh god, sorry of course,” Art says, moving quickly to roll over. Fuck. Okay he hasn’t neglected his back muscles either. He’s Patrick’s walking wet dream and Patrick’s forced to behave himself because he’s a client. It’s kind of like a punishment.

He picks up the company's overpriced massage oil. Thirty two dollars for 8 ounces and a brand name. Patrick’s sure he’s found the knock off at Bath and Bodywork’s for six bucks. But it goes on warm and smells so sweet that the often snooty clients will pay for it like it’s gonna work miracles. He squirts it liberally on Art’s bare back and shoulders. His fingers itching to touch and not just Arts body. Art’s skin is warm, his body so tense. Patrick almost feels like a creep. This poor innocent client, he’s got no idea what’s going on in Patrick’s perverted mind. He starts chastising himself.  Trying his best to calm down. To be appropriate. To treat him like any other client. 

And then he moans. 

This soft little exhale as Patrick’s working along his shoulders and the broad expanse of his upper back that slowly turns into a very satisfied full bodied moan. Patrick bites his tongue and moves along that same stretch of skin and muscle again. Another satisfied sigh. It’s okay. It’s fine. Some clients are vocal. It’s part of the job. He wishes though that he wasn’t going insane.

”Lotta tension huh?” It’s a safe comment. It’s what he’d say to any other client. 

“Yeah and your hands are… I mean… this actually feels really… nice.” 

Patrick chuckles. He’s gonna behave. He’s gonna keep his job. The room is dim, soft instrumental music coming from a portable speaker, steam from scented diffusers. All of it meant to make the client relax but now Patrick feels crazy that this is actually his place of business. 

He works his way through a kink of knotted muscle nearing Arts lower back and earns another soft moan. “That’s right,” Patrick blurts it before he can bite his tongue. He expects Art to tense up… to say something but he doesn’t. He’s still on the table, unaffected. Patrick lets out a breath and continues, working his obliques. He’s breathy here. “You have amazing hands,” Art says, softly. 

Patrick has to swallow before he opens his mouth. “Mm I’ve heard that before.” 

Art’s shoulders move, a little laugh escaping him.  

“What do you do?” Patrick doesn’t usually like to talk but he’s in desperate need of distraction. 

“‘m a tennis player.”

“Well that explains the shoulder tension,” Patrick says.

”Yeah… my fiancé says… says i’m really tight.” 

“Yeah… I bet…” Patrick says quietly. 

“You feel it huh?” Art replies, aloof to the way Patrick meant it. 

“Yeah…I feel it.” Patrick’s working his way down towards the swell of his ass and another soft sigh escapes his lips into the forced serenity of the room. Patrick works just down to where the towel is sitting before he stops… just like he’s supposed to. The whole time Art is breathing, little gasps and delicious moans.  

Patrick’s hands are shaking as he moves away from the ass…to the legs. His calves are tight, the hair so fine he might as well be hairless. Legs so long and pretty like a girl. Patrick massages deep into the muscle and Art begins shifting on the table. “Mm feels really good.” He sighs. 

“Yeah?” Patrick coaxes. Then he remembers this isn’t his bedroom on pride weekend. This is his job. Where he works. 

“Mmhm, really. You’re so good at that.” 

God.

He’s working his way up Art’s thighs, when he fully crosses the line.  

”I actually…I think you carry a lot of tension right along here,” he rubs Art’s bottom over the towel. “I could get in there for you if you want?” 

“Yeah please, if you think it’ll help,” Art says eagerly. Too easy.

Patrick slips his hand just under the towel. Arts body is so heated there, Patrick gently massages along his ass cheeks. One side, then the other. He can hear Art breathing. Can hear himself breathing too. His dick is straining painfully along his pant leg. He almost slips a finger inside but stops himself. 

“Uh… okay how’s that?” His voice pitched so different than normal.

“Better,” Art says tightly. 

“Good, you can turn over.” Patrick lets out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He’s almost done but he knows it’ll be so much harder to keep his expression professional when Art is looking at him.

“Well uh… can I have a minute?” 

Patrick pauses, heart rate picking up. “Uh sure… is everything okay?” 

“Mm I think I might have enjoyed it too much.” He laughs a little. “I’m sorry.” 

“Are you straight?” Patrick blurts. 

“Yeah,” Art says. “Yeah I’m sorry i swear this has never… this doesn’t…” 

“Me too, I’m straight too.” Patrick interrupts. “I promise it doesn’t even matter,” he says quickly. “It happens all the time. Gay, straight, doesn’t matter,” He lies. 

“Really?” 

“Yes. You can roll over I assure you it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

Art laughs a little awkwardly. “Uh okay…I keep forgetting you guys are like doctors. You’ve probably seen it all.” 

“Oh yeah,” Patrick says. Just hungry to get his eyes on it. Art settles on his back trying to cup his hand over it, trying to keep it pressed down to his pelvis but it bobs up tenting the towel. 

The blush goes all the way down. Pretty and ashamed and oh so hard.

”Fuck,” Patrick mutters. He’s gonna fuck him. He reaches for it, runs his palm over it over the towel. Forgetting himself. 

Art juts his hips upwards against his palm. “Is this… is this part of it?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” Patrick says, breathlessly. “Have you heard of a happy ending?” 

“Mmhm,” Art breathes. 

“This is a happy ending… everyone does it. It’s just… not talked about.” 

“Oh,” Art says. 

“Yeah… so just between us okay?” Patrick says, honestly not caring if he loses his job at this point. 

“Oh…okay…oh god,” Art closes his eyes as Patrick slips his hand underneath the towel and takes hold of him properly. A very healthy sized solid cock. Patrick slides the towel down so he can see it properly.

Pretty pink and perfect like he knew it would be. One night with a gorgeous straight boy like this could probably ruin him for a fucking decade.  

He covers his hand in more of the warm tingly massage oil and slides it over Art’s cock. He whines, thrusting up into Patrick’s fist. Patrick uses his free hand to tease at his nipple. Watches them go erect as he pinches them. Soft and pointed. Art gasps, arching up off the massage table. “Oh fuck,” he whines. 

“God its so fucking pretty,” Patrick hums. “Ever been blown by a guy before?” 

“No this is my… this is my first time.” 

“Yeah?” Patrick smirks, cause he hasn’t even offered to do it yet.  

Patrick leans over and feeds most of Art’s length into his mouth. Fingers playing with his balls. He tastes so good, salty with the sweet minty taste of the oil. “Oh my fucking god,” Art groans as Patrick licks up and down. Sucking hard. He starts fucking into Patrick’s mouth right away. A fucking dream. 

Patrick slides his free hand into his scrubs and starts jerking himself as Art thrusts into his mouth over and over and over. Art’s just moaning, needy and lost and Patrick’s drooling, slobbering all over him. It doesn’t take long before Art’s movements get erratic. “Fuck I’m gonna—“ he gasps through the end of the sentence and Patrick’s mouth starts to fill with the sticky wet heat of his cum. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Art moans as Patrick pulls off, some of it still leaking from Arts tip, dripping from Patrick’s lips. Patrick pulls the aapron off and yanks his dick out properly. jerks himself to completion while Art watches. Spills all over Art’s bare abdomen. Rubbing it in with his fingers when he’s done like it’s massage lotion.

“Mm,” Art hums sitting up as Patrick finishes, gazing at him wide eyed. “Was that um… is that extra?” 

Patrick laughs. “Fuck, if you come back I’ll give you that and more any day of the fucking week for free.” 

Art collapses back on the table, covering his face. “I really shouldn’t.” He draws one of his knees up. “But um… she really thinks… my fiancé thinks i need to loosen up and you… you have a really good… hands.”  

Patrick grins and wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist. “Okay then um… I’ll have Sammie mark you down for the same time next week?” 

“Yeah and next week we can start on the uh… the front?” Art suggests, gesturing to his now spent cock.  

“Sure,” Patrick smirks. 

Thankful for the apron Patrick leaves the room to let Art clean up and get dressed while he straightens up in the employee bathroom. He returns to the front desk just in time to see a gorgeous fucking woman in a tennis skirt is in the lobby walking out behind Art. His breath catches in his throat as she catches his eye, her fierce brown eyes lingering on him like she can see what he did to her fiance. He smirks and offers a sheepish wave. She shrugs a little smile in response and walks out. Sammie looks up from the computer. 

“You and your magic fingers dude. He just booked you every Tuesday and Thursday for the next 3 months.” 

[ducksido]

Would it be possible to write the first years with a reader who suffers from gifted kid burnout because she thought excellence equalled love? Like, through elementary and middle school, she was perfect in everything, participated in every school event, knew practically everyone, teachers sang praises about her and used her as an example.

Then, in seventh free, she spiralled really badly. Her grades plummeted, she withdrew from social events her friend circle reduced, and her teachers were worried.

She recovered once she got to NRC and does fairly okay, but she never aims for that level of perfection again because, if she does it once, it'll be the bar for her to reach everytime which will just cause her to burn out again.

The culprit was her absent father. She wanted him to love her, so she ran herself to the ground trying to get that love, feeding off of everyone's praise and adoration until she could.

— 💖🌺

(alright 💖🌺)

You were the golden child. Elementary school felt like a stage you were born to perform on. Every talent show, every spelling bee, every quiz bowl—you were there. You were always on. Perfect hair, perfect posture, perfect grades, perfect smile. You learned early that applause filled the silence your father's absence left behind.

By seventh grade, it caught up to you. You dropped everything. No more 4.0 GPA. No more rehearsals. No more playdates. Your world quieted to a whisper, and nobody understood why.

Now, at NRC, you’re… not the same. Not in a bad way. Just… healthier. You do your work, you try your best, but never to the point where it costs you sleep or sanity. You don’t strive for perfection anymore—because perfection was a cage. And you know what? You’re okay with just being okay.

But your friends? They notice.

Ace Trappola

At first, Ace thought you were just "lazy talented."

"You aced Crewel’s quiz without even studying? Ugh, I hate you."

You laughed it off—what else could you do?

But then he saw how your hand trembled when he joked about how “you used to be a tryhard, huh?” You tried to laugh, but your fingers curled tight, nails digging into your palm.

Later that night, he found you staring blankly at your textbook, not turning the page.

“…Hey,” he mumbled, sliding onto the bench beside you in the library. “I was an ass earlier. Sorry.”

You gave him a weak smile.

“I didn’t know you used to push yourself so hard,” he added. “You don’t have to do that around us, y’know? I like you even if you bomb a test.”

He tapped his pencil on your arm. “If you get a bad grade, we’ll just cheat off Deuce’s notes together next time. Teamwork.”

You laughed. For real, this time.

Deuce Spade

Deuce didn’t get it at first, but when he did, it hit him like a truck.

When you once explained your burnout over lunch—how you'd chased praise like a starving dog because it was the only way you knew to feel loved—his whole expression crumpled.

“That’s—” he clenched his jaw. “That’s messed up. No kid should have to do that alone.”

He asked about your dad. You told him the truth.

"Never showed up. Not for recitals. Not for birthdays. I just wanted him to say he was proud of me."

Deuce got real quiet. Then he offered you the apple off his tray.

"You don’t need to chase anyone anymore. You’ve got us."

And when you won second place in Alchemy class and didn’t cry over not winning first, Deuce clapped harder than anyone else.

Jack Howl

Jack was the first to notice how disciplined you were—not in a good way.

You didn’t slack, but you always measured how much effort you gave. Never overdid it. Never underperformed either.

“You always pace yourself,” he commented once after P.E.

"Yeah," you shrugged. "If I do too well, people start expecting it. And I can't keep doing that."

Jack frowned, ears twitching. He got it. You weren’t lazy. You were tired—of expectations, of living for someone else.

“...You don’t have to impress me,” he said. “I respect you because you know your limits.”

And when Vargas gave you a B and you smiled—smiled, not cried—Jack gave you a nod of quiet approval.

Epel Felmier

You and Epel bonded over expectations—yours about perfection, his about masculinity.

“People always want somethin’ outta ya, huh?” he muttered once.

“Yeah,” you said. “They cheer when you give it, but they don’t see the cracks forming.”

He glanced at you sideways. “You’re not crackin’ now, are ya?”

You shook your head. “Not anymore.”

Epel doesn’t like sappy stuff, but he does show it. He always invites you to hang out even if you say no. Always saves you a seat. Always glares at anyone who tells you to “try harder.”

“You already tried more than enough,” he’d mutter. “Let yourself be.”

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek struggled to understand at first. “WHY DO YOU NOT STRIVE FOR EXCELLENCE?!”

But the moment you told him why, he shut up immediately.

“My father never praised me, no matter how much I achieved. I guess I thought if I could just be… perfect, he’d finally see me.”

Sebek, for once, had no loud retort.

"...That is not how love should work."

His voice was oddly quiet.

Over time, he adjusted. Stopped yelling when you didn’t study. Started encouraging you in a calmer way. He still cheered obnoxiously when you did well—but when you didn’t, he reminded you of your worth anyway.

"Your value is not in your grades, human. It is in your will."

And you smiled. Because someone finally saw you—not just your gold stars.

End

You’re not perfect anymore. But you’re present. You laugh. You cry. You rest. You breathe.

And the boys? They don’t want the golden child.

They want you.

[supremefloof]

EPISODE 7 THOUGHStS

HOLY SHIT - spoilers of course. we are late today but here it is!!

okay usually these go in chronological order. NOT TODAY. WHO THEORIZED THAT E-SOUL OLD WOULD REPLACE E-SOUL NEW? YOU WERE RIGHT ON THE MONEYYYY

uncle rock was indeed the guy. this was... pretty obvious... thankfully. however, this plan was like ???? there are so many ways this couldve gone wrong???

Lucky Cyan's concert is indeed on e-soul's anniversary. so... is this the turn of the new year? are we officially on to year 37?

so, the hero agency guys are VERY VERY competitive. they are completely willing to murder. also, uncle rock's hair goes white in the next five years 💀

SOBBING AND THROWING UP. SHE COULDNT EVEN GO WITH SHANG CHAO. SHES THERE ALONE. AND SHE'S SO SMART, SHE WAS RIGHT INSTANTLY.

at least she's alive............. the designated survivor

enlighter is weirdly a major character. like, is he gonna be in all the eps??

the music this episode slapped especially hard!! loved lucky cyan's music, loved the funeral music, eveyrthing

so far the pattern looks like the next hero in the show is going to appear somehow in the previous hero's episodes, so they do connect.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT X?????? A SNAP

okay. so, first thoughts is since he's not X yet at this point (it's year 36/37), this is why YC did not win this fight. X was trying to help him like he helped nice in ep. 1, but he's not a top ranker yet. so he's not strong enough.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YC HESITATED? BECAUSE HE WAS JEALOUS

I like how the show subverted our expectations of yang cheng winning. he was shown from the start to have a disadvantage, and this time no amount of determination will save him no matter how much the audience believes.

lin ling parallels............. UHGH.

hunger games vibes from the fans cheering about the fight

WHT DO YOU MEAN TRUST VALUE MERGES ???????????????????????????

so. what about nice then. is it bc he was already dead, or did lin ling really inherit his TV

3-SOUL OVER BEFORE IT COULD BEGINNNNN.... this fandom has the gift of apollo because they really are just. souls now.

that's why e-souls arm is like that!!

he. he still has shang chao's helmet design.

uncle rock's cement dumping murder actually freaked me out. i did not like that. really scary actually.

I was starting to really like og e-soul up until he STOLE YANG CHENG'S BODY.

so i actually ended up being right about e-soul not being good...

AND I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE PV NOT BEING A PREQUEL. THE PV EITHER TAKES PLACE IN THE FUTURE, OR DURING YANG CHENG'S EPISODES.

THE TIMELINE IS COOOOOKED.

[butteronabun]

i think i read this concept somewhere before but imagine f! reader swooning with the other ladies of mondstadt abt this one particular romance novel that has been getting popular as of late. diluc gets word of this ( maybe it’s because of elzer, or probably even kaeya, the tease ) because don’t tell anyone this but he kinda likes you.

( “. . . kinda? what are we, twelve?”

“shut it, kaeya.” )

and he wonders what the fuss is all about—

“it seems that lady,” adelinde calls your name fondly, as she stands beside the master of the house eating his dinner. “has been involved with a book club. some of the maids are members, and they told me that it had been a joyous time. they would discuss the books over delicious cups of tea and pastries that she and her friends had made.”

diluc is happy to hear this, of course, that a delightful woman such as you is having the time of her life in mondstadt. his heart skips a beat in his chest as he imagines you, the ever beautiful, endearing you, sharing anecdotes. he tries to hide the growing smile on his face as he remembers how you focus into the small and tiniest details—it is no doubt that the people in your book club are always entertained by your presence.

they’re surely lucky to have you. diluc, if only he wasn’t so busy, would actually really love to be part of that book club as well. ( “eyeing something, master diluc?” lisa winks, when diluc finds himself in the library. ) but alas, it was only reserved for ladies, and he was too shy to actually be in it.

— not until this one fateful night. not until he finally understands why.

of course, the abyss is up to no good again. diluc does his daily patrols on the outskirts and even outside of the city.

then, he hears it.

( a cackling abyss mage approaches your quivering form. you have books in your arms, tightly clutching them to your chest. you bought these for the new members of your book club as gifts since some of them can’t even afford it, and like hell you’re gonna lose them to some monster! these are expensive!

and since gods do really like tampering with fate ( or is this just destiny? ) before the abyss mage gets to throw its icicle at you, it disintegrates, and you blink upon the arrival of a familiar figure.

clad in black and donned in a mask, your lips part in shock. the smell of burnt wood and grass reaches your nostrils. the figure—the man, turns around, and you can’t help but feel a little clumsy. “t–thank you so much, um—!” some of the books fall to the ground, and you yelp. the man kneels down to grab your novels, and you feel your cheeks begin to steam. “um, wait—!” )

after rescuing you from a pesky abyss mage, diluc is really happy to get to interact with you again. last time he did was when you were in the tavern, drinking out with your peers. there, he realized how low your tolerance is, and there, he also realized how actually weak he is for you. you had been so friendly and sweet to him—you included him in your conversations and was always so understanding. how can he not like someone like you?

or maybe the cherry on top was when you invited him to go stargaze at the starsnatch cliff ( how did you not know what that meant? is it because you’re from fontaine, and you’re still getting used to mondstadt? ) and requested for only diluc. no master of the house diluc, nor wine tycoon diluc. just diluc. just himself.

he’ll do everything for you, as long as it is okay with you.

as he descends to the ground to retrieve some of the novels that you carried, diluc lifts one. he listens to you stammer— and he wonders why you’re so flustered, not until he sees the front cover.

it’s an image of a man. he’s wearing a dark getup: a dark brown tunic, black pants, and a midnight cloak. diluc ponders over why he’s getting deja vu.

then, he also has a a bird mask, and red hair peeking out from his hood. wait, red hair?

on his muscular arms, is nothing but a damsel in distress looking at him with so much adoration. much like to the expressions you’ve had with the ladies whenever you ramble about the popular book that diluc has been curious on ever since forever—

oh.

diluc raises his head slowly, and sees you fumble over you words. “mr. darknight hero, i apologize—!”

oh.

[20cubesun]

DATING SUNOO INCLUDES...

obviously, there are lots of snacks, we figured that much

midnight trips to the convenience store

"Didn't you want to try this flavor? Let's get it."

shared showers that turn into sing-offs

you watch him during some of his practices, waiting with his water

"You're doing such a good job Sun!"

"No! I keep messing up my footwork during the chorus!"

"Boy sit down and take a break, you're doing a great job!"

Side eyes and playful bickering

Shared clothing

"Y/n have you seen my new sweatpants? I can't find them."

You pull the covers over you and say no, knowing you're wearing them.

Movies and K-Dramas almost every night

Baking on his free days (Very messy baking may I add)

Skincare!!!! Like intensive skin care.

"Y/n I really wanted this new foaming cleanser, but it's not for my skin type... So I got it for you instead!"

Lots of plushies that Sunoo SWEARS he got for you... (He wanted them more than you did)

Anniversaries are taken VERY seriously. Sunoo quadruple checks to make sure everything is PERFECT.

Will randomly send you money and/or gifts

"Sunoo, why did you just send me 200$?!"

"Do you need more? I thought you saw a cute jacket you wanted the other day?"

"Omg, Sunoo no. You don't have to do that."

"But I want to! You just have to promise to model in it for me!"

tickle fights.

Like

CRAZY TICKLE FIGHTS

once you instinctively kicked him in the stomach to get him off and he started again after getting his breath back

You check on him after realizing what you did

"Are you okay?! I didn't mean to do that! I just couldn't breathe!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine! But you..." Sunoo gets up with his fingers wiggling. "But you won't be!"

You go to sleep being cuddled by him but wake up spooning him instead

Is a baby and does not care

often plays the "I had practice today" card

"Y/nnn please will you scratch my head, I had practice today."

WILL SULK until you scratch his head

"No it's fine, I didn't want head scratches that bad anyways..."

Lays his head on you until you give in

Giggles when you give in and sometimes falls asleep on you, depending on how practice was

if the practice was VERY grueling, he'll look at you and smile, then just face plant onto his bed

you let him sleep for a little before waking him up to do his nightly routine

"y/nnn lemme sleep please...."

"Sun I would, but if you don't wash off your sweat, you're gonna feel gross in the morning and you need to do your skincare."

"ughhh you're right, I'll get up in a second."

[starlightshadowsworld]

Chuuatsu where Atsushi doesn’t take losing his ability in Dead Apple well and Chuuya comforts him.

Chuuya wakes up realising that his bed is empty. He would roll back over and go back to sleep but he has a bad feeling.

So instead Chuuya gets up and surveys his flat.

His hope that Atsushi might’ve just gone to grab a glass of water or something die when he hears crying from the bathroom.

Now, Atsushi was a rather sensitive soul and it was something Chuuya loved about him greatly. But in all the time Chuuya had known him he’d never seen Atsushi cry.

He’d seen Atsushi lose limbs and bounce back without so much as a wince.

So suffice to say Chuuya was worried now. The bathroom door wasn’t locked but he stoped himself from barging it open. He knocks lightly “Atsushi, are you okay?“ It felt dumb asking because clearly he wasn’t but what else do you say?

“Somethings wrong…” mumbled Atsushi, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming. Chuuya frowned “whats wrong love?” His heart sank at Atsushi’s whispered “me…”

Did he have a nightmare? Is that was this was about?

“Atsushi, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Says Chuuya softly. He hears a sniffle, and what he assumes is Atsushi shaking his head. “I’m wrong…I’m wrong.” He repeats like a mantra over and over.

Chuuya knocks on the day again in the hopes of getting Atsushi’s attention back on him. “Can I come in?”

“Please…”

It takes all of Chuuya’s self restraint to not blast the door off his hinges. He practically throws it open and kneels beside Atsushi who’s curled up on the cold tile floor.

He looks haunted.

“Hey tiger” he says lightly and relaxes just a little bit when Atsushi looks up at him with clear eyes. At the very least he doesn’t seem to be hallucinating.

“No tiger.” Says Atsushi shaking his head and wrapping his arms tighter around him. “No tiger…it’s gone.”

Chuuya frowned but then he remembered the meeting the Port Mafia had yesterday.

He looked over at the window and shes enough there was a bright red fog outside.

As if hearing his thoughts Atsushi piped up “I had a bad dream and I didn’t want to wake you so I went out for some fresh air….” He was shaking all over and the cold tiles weren’t helping at all.

Chuuya softened.

“It’s not your fault. Whatever sick fuck released that thing is to blame not you.”

They’d talk about Atsushi being very okay to wake him if he wasn’t doing great but that could wait to later.

For now, with his permission Chuuya gently picked Atsushi off the bathroom floor and took him back to bed. Atsushi’s eyes were shut in agony and he was clinging to Chuuya like a koala.

His boyfriend only held him close and wrapped the blanket around them both. “It hurts…” whispers Atsushi into the others shirt but Chuuya heard him clearly.

He ran a hand through Atsushi’s hair and smiled sadly when the other leaned into the touch.

Somehow even losing the tiger he was still rather catlike.

It made sense though if the boss lost his ability he would act like any other non gifted. But Atsushi was a weretiger, to lose the tiger was like having himself ripped apart.

Had the Agency not warned him about this? He’d be having words with them later if not.

For now Chuuya kissed his beloveds head and rubbed soothing circles into his back. It wasn’t a pain he could relieve for him. But he did his best to keep him comfortable.

The way Atsushi described it made him feel ill. Having your soul torn apart, your own body not feeling your own. Physically Atsushi looked the same but he wasn’t.

It was a feeling Chuuya knew all too well and would never wish on his lover.

Atsushi had suffered more than enough already and whoever did this was going to pay for it dearly.

[bitchinbarzal]

Rolo’s sick | The Barzal’s

It happened fast.

One minute, Rolo was bounding through the yard like he always did, tail high, ears perked, chasing Ryder’s soccer ball down the slope like he was still a puppy.

The next, he yelped, sharp and short, and collapsed.

Mama was the first to reach him, barefoot in the grass, heart already racing.

Mat was behind her, yelling for the kids to stay inside, voice shaking.

Rolo didn’t move. Just whimpered, barely, eyes cloudy with pain.

The vet said it was internal bleeding. Sudden. Likely a ruptured tumor they hadn’t known was there.

Emergency surgery. No guarantees.

They rushed him out the door in blankets and panic.

And now the house was still. Too still.

Koda paced the hallway, anxious and lost without his best friend.

Mama sat on the couch, holding Rolo’s collar in her lap like it was a lifeline.

Mat kept checking his phone even though the vet had promised they’d call the second they knew anything.

The kids didn’t know what to do with themselves. Ivy was curled up in a blanket on the stairs. Bailey kept asking when Rolo was coming back. Ryder had tried to be brave, but cracked the second he saw Mama cry.

And Wyatt—barefoot and sticky from dinner—wandered outside like it was any other evening.

She sat in their spot. The corner of the back deck where the sun hit just right and Rolo always flopped beside her, panting, tail thudding lazily against the wood.

She had a little cup of yogurt in her hands. Mama had handed it to her on autopilot, probably didn’t even realize she hadn’t eaten it.

Wyatt didn’t understand much.

But she knew Rolo always shared her dessert.

So she waited.

Legs swinging, spoon tapping against her cup.

“Rolo?” she called softly, turning toward the yard. “You coming?”

Nothing but breeze.

Inside, Mat saw her through the glass door. His chest twisted.

He stepped outside quietly, sitting down beside her. Wyatt looked up, eyes wide, confused.

“He forgot,” she said, voice barely a whisper. “He didn’t come for the yogurt.”

Mat didn’t speak right away. Just pulled her into his lap, wrapped his arms around her little body, and rested his chin on her head.

“Rolo’s having a sleepover at the doctor’s,” he said gently. “He’s very brave.”

Wyatt frowned. “He’s not sick. He’s Rolo.”

“I know,” Mat said, voice cracking. “But even the strongest ones need help sometimes.”

She offered him the spoon. “You want the last bite?”

Mat kissed her temple. “You save it for him. For when he comes home.”

Inside, Mama sat on the floor, one hand on Koda’s back, the other still gripping Rolo’s collar.

Mat came in, carrying Wyatt.

“She waited for him,” he said quietly. “Didn’t eat the yogurt.”

Mama’s face crumpled. Mat sank beside her, pulling them all in close.

He didn’t say it would be okay. He didn’t promise Rolo would make it.

He just held his family.

Because Rolo wasn’t just a dog.

He was the first heartbeat after the silence.

The gift Mat gave her when they didn’t know how to keep breathing after Nola.

He’d been there for every baby, every breakdown, every barefoot run in the yard.

And now they waited.

Together.

In the quiet space between love and loss.

[4drianaaaa]

"i think i like u"

Hamzahthefantastic x influencerreader! ⚠: fluff, cat-calling, lengthy (?), smut! wrd count: 2.7k

part 5 | navi

-

yourusername

: this dress will not stay on if u w a freak 🥴

_

user34343: omfg...

anon39932: the last slide so real

clairedrakee: beauty like none other

mandys_iphone: best b-day gift ever ↳ yourusername: kiss me

hamzahthefantastic: they're pierced?! ↳ yourusername: please tell me they're nice! ;( ↳ hamzahthefantastic: i love them [liked by creator] ↳ user456396: !?

aldo2swag: hi

larray: clit piercings next!

-

you blushed as you set your phone down after reading what Hamzah had sent you. You and Hamzah have been seeing each other for weeks already. The two of you would hang out at each others houses or just out and about. Still, you guys didn't have a specific label on yourselves.

You finished your makeup as you grabbed a purple flower claw clip and held your hair half way up. You applied a soft matte lipstick and changed into some blue low rise jeans and a white small crop top. Besides moving to Canada and meeting these new people, you still itched to change your life a little. What better idea to get your nipples pierced! You finished getting ready as you swopped a red bag onto your shoulder preparing your self for the pain you were gonna be put through right now.

You closed your car door shut as you were on your way to the tattoo shop. The closer you got, the more hotter your body temperature grew. You took the last sip of your Iced coffee and headed inside the shop. "Hey hun! Are you here with an appointment!" A fully tatted woman approached you. You nodded, "Yes! For y/n?" You questioned as her eyes scanned the computer on the front desk. "Yes I have you here! Alright are you ready?" You questioned as you nodded. She took you to a private room as you sat down on one of the high chairs in the room. You took a deep breath as she sanitized the metal. "Is this your first piercing?" She questioned as you shook your head. "This is my first!" You grinned as she slapped some gloves on. "Okay, just make sure to wear thin material clothing, Be careful on getting the jewelry caught on clothes, and clean then daily!" She explained as she walked over to you with a tray. "Go ahead and lift your top for me!" she said as she had the needle in one hand and the clamp on the other. You lifted your shirt up as you felt the cold air hit your exposed chest. You felt the sharp pain of the needle go through your nipples as you looked down to see the Jewelry already set.

"Oh wow that was quick!" You gasped as she smiled and handed you a mirror. You could just jump up and down. "Oh my gosh! Thank you so much!" You shrieked "Of course!" She smiled handing you a bag with a piercing solution.

You slammed the door shut as you were on your way back home. Arriving home you texted Hamzah to reassure him if he was still down to go out.

You changed into a more thin top as you waited for Hamzah to get here. You couldn't stop looking at the mirror. You took multiple pictures. You suddenly heard a knock on your door. You panicked and threw a hoodie over. You opened the door as Hamzah scanned your body. "Did you get a tattoo?" He questioned as he took your hand as you shook your head. "Okay- wait come inside!" You pulled him into your house as he closed the door behind him. "Okay, I was super itchy for a little different and I was scrolling on tiktok and that's what inspired me.." You said nervously, "Okayyyy" he dragged his word as you whipped your hair back. You slowly draped off the zip-up as the thin top revealed your freshly pierced nipples. His eyes glued to your chest as he threw his hand over you his mouth. "Oh my god.." He said cheesing behind his hands. "What do you think?" you asked as you turned to the mirror in your living room. "They honestly suit you" he said looking at you through the mirror. "Alright well that's it, let's get going now." You swooped your purse over your shoulder as he lifted his eyebrow. "Wait you can just show them?" Hamzah questioned as you giggled "Yes I can show them! Why wouldn't I?" You said checking your self out in the mirror. "Um- Okay, let’s go I guess" he said as his face was burning hot.

You finally made it to the crowded mall as you and Hamzah were In Aritzia looking for clothes for Mandy. You looked through dresses as you saw one that caught your eye, It was a silky back open grey dress as you ran to Hamzah. "This is the one!" You held the dress as he nodded "Do you think Mandy will like it?" He questioned "Are you serious? She'll love it!" You said looking through more dresses.

"Anything you like?" Hamzah questioned as you saw a dress that caught your eyes. "Oh wow!" Hamzah said as you pulled the dress out. It was a long black dress that was see through and different patterns. "Oh my god, I love this..." You said scanning your fingers through the different textures. "Take it" He said grabbing both dresses from you as you kept looking through tops and pants.

"Alright this is it" you said grabbing the dresses and skirts and bringing them over your shoulder. You walked to the register as you placed the clothes on the table. "Wait, I'll pay." He said pulling his card out. You shoved his hand down as he quickly tapped his card against the machine , "Hamzah!" You gasped as the lady handed you the bag, "Your welcome!" He grabbed the bag from you as he held your hand and walked out of the store. "Why would you do that?” You huffed “because why would I make you pay? Haven’t I already told you? What else do you want?” He looked all over the mall as you pointed to a record store.

Your fingers scanned through the vinyls, Hamzah couldn’t help but look at your red thong peeking out your pants as his cheeks were a soft pink.

“Are you guys looking for something in particular?” A voice came from behind him. “Uh nah, just looking.” Hamzah replied as the guy looked over to you, also checking the view out. “A fucking show…” the man licked his lips. Hamzah furrowed his eyebrows as a burning anger grew inside him. “What the fuck? You’re fucking weird bro. Get the fuck out my face dude.” Hamzah hissed as he grabbed your arm and made you storm out the store, “what-“ “this fucking dude kept staring at you, cmon” he huffed. “Just uh, look for another store baby” he said lowly as his arm wrapped around you. “Oh okay..” you replied.

“Hamzah, you probably spent hundreds! Just let me send it back!” You crossed your arms as he closed the door for you, “no y/n! It’s okay!” He turned to you as he placed his hand on your thigh. Hamzah had brought you to his house just to wrap Mandy’s gift and just to have your company he missed. Both arrived to his house as It was Just the cats waiting at the door. "Wow, you finally cleaned?" You teased as he rolled his eyes playfully "yeah, yeah whatever" he said placing your bags down on the couch. You took the box in where Mandy's dress was at as Hamzah handed you some wrapping paper, "I only have this one, I think It's fine right?" He said handing you blue paper. You perfectly wrapped around the box as you even decided to make a bow out of remaining scraps.

"Oh wow, it's perfect!" He took the gift placing it on the coffee table. He wrote his name down, You reached for your dress pulling it out of the bag. You were In love. You traced over the patterns as you imagined when and where you would wear. "Ya' like it?" He questioned as he closed the sharpie. You nodded placing it out on the couch, a sly smile creeped on your face. "I'm gonna try it on, If that's okay!" You looked over at Hamzah. His face blank, He looked down at the see through fabric. "Uh, yeah sure..." He cleared his throat as you yelped and ran to his room. He definitely thought you were gonna show him but he doubted it.

You carefully pulled off your shirt and pants as you slipped on the thin dress. You looked at the tall mirror as your body complimented the dress so well, as well as your new piercings. You decided to walk out and show Hamzah. That was the whole point anyways.

"Hamzah!" You sang as licked his lips. You peeked behind the living room as he turned towards you. You walked out fully and spun around to give him a full 360. His eyes fluttered scanning throughout your whole body. Eyes focusing more on your exposed boobs. You fixed your hair brining it to the front as your laced black panties hugged your ass so perfectly. "It's so nice" he said not taking his eyes off you at all. "It's so comfy honestly! Look feel it!" You said getting closer to Hamzah, Placing his hand on your waist. His fingers pinching the fabric as his pants seemed to be getting tighter. "Fuck, you look so good y/n..." He huffed as he couldn't help but grab your waist as your hands met his shoulders and touched his hair, "How will I ever thank you, hm?" You said lowly as his puppy eyes looked up at you and your perked up tits. "Show me how thankful you are then.." He groaned as you sat down on his lap. Face to face, "Your such a tease y/n." His hands cupped your ass as you yelped due to his needy grip. His lips grazed over yours as his lips crashed into yours. Your hands cupped his face. His tongue picking every taste from your mouth. Your face tilted as his hands roamed to your waist. "m'please- fuck, y/n...Need you..." He grunted in between kisses as you tugged at his shirt. Your lips parted as he swiped his shirt off. Your eyes sparkled, The gym was doing him justice.

"So- sexy." You groaned out as his lips trailed to your exposed neck. His hands were placed on your thigh. Your dress started to slip up to your waist exposing your red panties Hamzah has had his eyes on all night.

"Can I- off?" He said tugging your dress as your lips parted. You slowly slipped your dress off over your head, your tits were fully exposed as he practically drooled. His lips trailed down your neck as his hands were gripping your upper torso. You slowly began grinding on his crotch. The closer his mouth got to your perked tits the more you whined. His mouth carefully began sucking around your tits as you threw your head back trying your best not to be noisy. You couldn’t notice your self practically bouncing on him. You needed all of him already.

“Hamzah please! I want you!” You whimpered as he groaned, “m’kay” he huffed as he tapped your thigh, getting off his lap and helping him unbuckle his jeans. You were so needy your lips crashed into his again as you were on all floors next to him. You moaned in his mouth as his pants dropped at his ankles. Your hands rubbed against the huge tent upon his boxers. His hand sharply slapped your ass as your moan echoed in his mouth. Your hands shoved his boxers down aching for his cock that suddenly hit his stomach. Your hands wasted no time but slowly pumping his cock up and down slowly as his hips bucked suddenly. “Please y/n!” He whined as you slowly sat down on his lap. He moved your panties to the side as his tip of his cock rubbed against your pussy. You didn’t care how loud you were anymore. You just wanted Hamzah. He aligned himself to your entrance as you gasped. “Fuck your so tight-..” he grunted as you whined in his ear. He slowly pushed you down his length as his cock twitched in you. You began going up and down his member as his hands were glued to your waist following your motion. His hands slid down your ass firmly gripping on it. Your pace grew as you were fully wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck you feel so good baby” he whimpered as he slowly sucked on your tits again. You moaned in his ear as his hands traveled through your whole body.

Your hands gripped on his shoulders as your pace quickened, suddenly.

bzz, bzz, bzz.

Your heart stopped as you noticed Mandy was calling you. You stopped completely as Hamzah grunted. “Fuck..” you hissed as he whispered in your ear; “you better answer it.” He handed you the phone as he swiped across the phone. Your eyes widened suddenly as you snatched the phone from him.

“Y/n! Oh my gosh I need help.” Mandy asked through the phone as you exhaled. “Oh! Um, with what?” You asked. Hamzah’s hands slowly moved you up and down his cock again inpatient about you getting off the phone.

“Okay so I have this dress I wanna wear to the little birthday dinner we’re having tomorrow but I kinda wanna save it for Mexico!” She explained as Hamzah’s thumb rubbed against your clit. You bit your lip as you whined. “Mm- I…Fuck, I say Mexico!” You huffed as he smirked. “Are you okay?” Mandy questioned as Hamzah started slamming into you. Your hand gripped the phone and his shoulder so hard you practically left dents. You leaned over his shoulder trying not the expose the sudden slapping noise.

“Yeah! I’mmmm- im so good!” Your hand flew over your mouth as his cock went In and out if you. “Oh!- Mandy I gotta-.” Was all you said before ending the call urgently as you cried out his name. “Hamzah! Fuck!” You cried out loud as you felt yourself come all over his cock, “M’yes- fuck so good doll!” He grunted as your body folded against his as he slammed sloppier and faster into you. “So close, wait for me baby!” He moaned as he gripped your waist. You felt his warm cum spill fill you up as he groaned. You sat up as your lips met his. “You did so good baby-m” he said in between kisses. He picked you up from his lap as his cock sprung out of you as it ached. “Are you good?” He chuckled as you sighed, “I feel sore…” you whined as kissed your cheek placing you beside him. “I gotta a bath for two if your down?” He smirked as you nodded putting his t shirt on. “Hamzah- can you help?” You sighed as he giggled “are you serious?” He teased as you rolled your eyes “please! It’s not funny.” You pushed him as he grabbed you taking you to the bathroom.

You pulled his shirt off slowly as you slowly sunk down in the bathtub. He quickly joined you as you were In between his legs as bubbles floated around the warm water.

“I wish I could have gave you a try on haul” you sighed as your fingers hovered over the bubbles. “I thought you weren’t gonna show me in the fist place since the dress was see through” he chuckled, “I thought it was nice since you I was able to show my piercing! But it seemed like someone liked them a little too much..” you teased as he wrapped his arms around your waist tugging on you. “What can I say.” He smirked as he kissed your exposed neck.

There was a huge boundary holding you from asking the forbidden question. The “what are we” questioned. You seemed so deeply aware that you were 100% in love with him and so was he. Though. You had that restrain having you in choke hold.

You slipped In one of Hamzah's Pajama pants he had gave you and T-shirt. You climbed onto the bed with Hamzah as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You smiled as your eyes were quick to become heavy. You were quickly drifted to sleep. Hamzah looked down at you as your eyes were softly shut. He's never ever been with anyone like you, ever. He loved everything about you. He moved your hair behind your ear kissing your cheek softly.

"love you".

-

adri's note: "yes smut" we all say in unison (I'm we), Also not spell-checked...

[theoceanoasis]

Rodimus sparked after a rough night of interfacing.

He figured Drift and Ratchet were just charged and drunk on high grade like he was and it was a one night thing.

Them going back to normal the next day definitely cemented that idea for him.

So when he finds himself sparked he doesn’t say anything to them.

He takes up an offer to join a ship in search of lost bots ready to return to Cybertron.

He chooses to be one of the advisors on board that helps with paperwork and in the medbay. A surprise to many since they figured he would accept being co-captain as it was offered to him.

He didn’t want a stressful position while sparked and he’d have more time for his bitty and rest as he grew and once they emerged.

Rodimus figured he’d be okay starting over on the ship seeing as it was pretty big and he would be free of seeing Drift and Ratchet.

Last he heard they were going on a honeymoon of sorts.

He sent them a gift and congratulations with no return address before departing.

His room was thankfully the size of an apartment like many of the crew aboard who brought their amica or conjunx and the few who had sparklings.

They were all older sparklings, toddlers and kids really, but he wouldn’t be the only one on board with a child.

And having Cyclonus, Tailgate and Whirl on board ready to be “Uncles” to his sparkling was definitely a treat he was happy to accept.

He could’ve done without showing so early on in his carrying but his doc said the sparkling was healthy so he could only go along with it.

Things were fine the first few days of him being on board.

Motion sickness kicked in tenfold and he suffered through purging and desk work while the meds began to work through his systems.

It was during a delivery of anti-nausea meds that he answered his hab door holding his bloated tanks with a green face and a bucket in his arm against his chassis.

“Sorry Cy, I can’t today. Lulany ( loo-luh-niy ) is kicking my aft and my meds for today aren’t here yet.”

He was saying this with his optics half functioning before they went blurry wide and he was purging in the bucket.

The silence was painfully loud.

So loud that Rodimus couldn’t help but notice it as he purged and didn’t feel Cyclonus or Tailgates servos on him. Nor did he hear whirl gag and call him disgusting and degrading names like conjunx shareware.

He still isn’t sure how they figured out the sires when he’s never given so much as hint to who they could be, but he figured so long as no one else did he was fine.

Except that he wasn’t.

Because the sires Cyclonus, Tailgate and Whirl figured out were standing right in front of him shell shocked at the sight of him.

He couldn’t exactly see them that well as the dizzy spells were starting to kick in along with another roll of nausea.

But he could see enough.

And that was far too much already.

So what did he do???

Stagger back, slam his hab shut mid purge and lock it.

Was it the best thing to do?

No.

Did he regret it?

Absolutely not.

He wanted the quickest way off this ship and he wanted by mid morning the next cycle…which is how long he would take for the purging to stop and him to wake up after passing out.

Add to this what you will 🥰

When he woke up his first thought was that it had all been some cruel horrible nightmare. There was no way Drift or Ratchet were on board. They were supposed to be on their honeymoon not here on this ship with him.

He would have known if they were onboard. Someone would have mentioned it and he definetly would have seen Ratchet in the medbay given how often he goes there. Deciding it was all some cruel nightmare he forced himself to his feet. He still felt a little nautious and went to take some medicone only to find it gone. Groaning he made his way to the medbay where he went to speak with his medic..

He waited for them to fill out his perscription when he heard the door open. He didn't bother to look until he heard Ratchet call him. He slowly looked over staring in horror as the medic walked up to him. His face was stormy and he looked pissed. He stuttered trying to find an escape when Drift appeared and grabbed his medicine.

"Hey."

Ratchet grabbed him and pulled him along with Drift following behind. He tried to rptoest and was ignored. They led him to a room with unpacked luggage still lying around.

"What are you two doing here?"

"Tailgate told Swerve who told everyone else including us that you were sparked."

"Those traitors."

He growled angry they'd betrayed him.

"Why do you think the sparkling is yours?"

He gave them a nervous look while trying not to panic.

"It wasn't hard to put the pieces together. You suddenly dissapearing after that night."

"Why didn't you tell us you were sparked?"

"I... I don't know. I was scared. I didn't think you'd want them."

"Of course we would."

Drift reassured and he began to cry."

"But you only want them. I'm sorry I'm such a burden. I know you didn't want to get stuck with me and now you don't have a choice because I'm carrying your sparklings."

He sobbed and felt two sets or arms wrap around him pulling him into a hug.

"We want both of you."

"That night wasn't a one time hing. We've wanted you for a while."

"What?"

"We were courting you long before that night."

"When you dissapeared we thought we did something wrong. That we'd hurt you somehow."

He shook his head feeling overwhelmed with emotion that he had to sit down. Dirft and Ratchet sat on either side and comforted him. They reassured him that everything would be fine.

[dootznbootz]

Odysseus canonically has a prize implied to be a female bed slave in the Iliad hope that helps

Okay, so first off: Hi. Spring is here and it's very nice outside. Flowers are beginning to bloom and the birds are back so that's lovely. So there's that

And I've literally been over this in a couple of posts, granted with my own headcanons (which of course mean nothing in this argument) added to them but I still add the evidence from the texts that defends my perspective.

But In short, implication is not confirmation.

When does it say she's in bed with him? Homer purposely mentions how Patroclus and Achilles are snuggled up with ladies of their own in Book 9 of the Iliad, after all. When does Homer say this for Odysseus? As Homer even says the names of the women who are with Patroclus and Achilles: A woman by the name of Diomede is laying beside Achilles and Iphis is laying beside Patroclus.

And that's another thing: what's this Bed Slave's name? Menelaus' slave, who is the mother of Megapenthes, is either Pieris or Tereis. Agamemnon's is Chryseis. Telamonian Ajax's is named Tecmessa. When did Homer mention Odysseus' concubine's name? Why is she never mentioned again?

That's not even to mention the Athenian playwrights not mentioning this concubine despite many of them hating Odysseus. Even in the plays where Odysseus is more villainous and/or more of an antagonist, there is no mention of concubine. This supposedly canon concubine would be a PERFECT tragedy for a play where you want to show Odysseus' horrible nature. It's almost as though she doesn't, most likely, exist.

Also, since you're talking about the only possible instance of this "canon" concubine, in which it's Agamemnon talking about wanting something (Note: Not someone) of equal value, I've got at least 3 English translations of the one possible mention at the ready just for you.

Hope this helps.

IDK which translation you're reading, but as someone who's read multiple versions...Some just say "Prize", and with the "it" and "something". I...didn't really see it as a woman and/or specifically a concubine.

Let Achaeans give me another prize, equal in value, something I’ll enjoy. If not, then I’ll take a prize myself by force, something from you or Ajax or Odysseus.

(Book 1, Johnston)

Let the Achaeans find me a prize in fair exchange to my liking, or I will come and take your own, or that of Ajax or of Ulysses; and he to whomsoever I may come shall rue my coming.

(Book 1, Butler)

But if they do not give me such a gift, then I will seize your own prize or Ajax’s or Odysseus’ and carry it away, angering whomever I visit.

(Book 1, Heumann)

So to ME, I take "Prize" of "something of equal value" and/or just a slave.

Also, not all bride prizes were enslaved with sexual intentions. Hecuba is a perfect example.

Odysseus most likely took Hecuba as his slave because of her status. Odysseus is, time and time again, shown to care more for wealth and "shiny things" than he is for beautiful women (why I believe he just wasn't one to HAVE sex slaves, alongside the fact that he has no listed concubines canonically. Again, Anon, please show me where Homer mentions her name.). During the funeral games in the Iliad for Patroclus, Odysseus is usually always eyeing up the luxurious items during his competitions. He's genuinely not shown in canon to really EVER be driven by sex (until it's Penelope of course).

Taking pretty women as slaves adds to status, but taking the woman who was once queen? Big status thing. Hecuba was old and needed help walking but her rank was important; he was absolutely not having sex with Hecuba.

Btw, me standing firmly on this stance doesn't mean that Odysseus not having a canonical concubine makes him a "better person" compared to the other Achaeans. He still had slaves. Even if he doesn't have sex with them, he's still partaking in SLAVERY. And he's still a horrible person because of that. None of that "it was of the time", owning another human being has always been and always will be fucking wrong.

I'm also not saying that others CANNOT interpret Odysseus having concubines. While it is horrific and wrong, it was the cultural norm after all even though no concubine is named.

If you're here from the tags of that post I recently reblogged, all I was saying was how I didn't really like how folks did that. That's simply an opinion. Btw, my opinion shouldn't matter to you. I am literally a stranger on the internet. I'm sorry if I've ruffled your feathers but there is this very nice option of just scrolling past and NOT going into my inbox out of pettiness.

To finish this all off, forgive me for my blunt language throughout this answer but frankly, I'm not even truly upset about your interpretation even though I disagree with it. I'm mostly pissed by your arrogant and "holier-than-thou" AF tone.

You didn't come into my askbox to try and correct/teach me, to try and "help me". You didn't even come in with evidence to even "teach me" with or to support your interpretation. And your "Hope this helps" does not give a friendly and/or kind vibe to have a discussion and/or give me the possibility to learn more about the subject. You are being derogatory, you know this. Even if I didn't have evidence to back up my interpretation, or if I haven't read 3 different translations of the Iliad to try, you are being rude. Period.

You sent this ask to be petty and you come off as a pompous type of person which is NOT an energy that is meaningful to discussions of literature/history.

Regardless, get off your high horse and do better. I may complain and whine and have opinions but I keep that shit in my own personal posts and tag correctly (as best I can) and I NEVER send rude anons and/or bother people on their own posts/blogs/fan works/etc. In a way, I'm thankful that you sent this to me and not someone just joining the fandom and/or who's more timid than I.

(Also forgive me everyone for not putting this under a "read more" but this post is shorter than most of my other ones and I want to make sure Anon sees the end of this because, Again: DO. BETTER. And even if they don't see this, I hope others get the message.)

[heartsforjh]

this is a little (late 🌚) piece for my friend’s bday! i love her lots and ofc had to give the best gift that i can offer—content of her man ‼️ (idk why i decided to make it lowk sad at the beginning but HEY! WHATEVA! 🗣️)

main masterlist | ekky masterlist

Your boyfriend, William, is away for work alot. Sometimes even when it counts most—like today, your birthday. 

It’s not it’s unexpected or anything. You’ve known he’d be gone today for a while now. However, knowing ahead of time doesn’t make you feel any better. The only thing that’d make you feel better is having him here with you. 

You’ve been holding out hope that he’d make it back in time. He’s on a roadie, but it's the end of one. Unfortunately, that hope has progressively faltered as night begins to fall. 

You’re laid on your bed, playing The Sims as your computer screen reads 11:27 PM. Admittedly, sulking—but rightfully so! That is until you hear the door to your room click open, and you practically snap your neck to look over. 

“Babe?” you call out when you see him standing there. 

He shoots you a sheepish smile. “Hey, love. I’m back home!” 

You’re very excited to see his face, but a part of you is still a little upset. While it’s not really his fault—he has missed the majority of your special day. You’ve been left all alone.

“I… got you a cake,” he says, lifting his arm up. You see he’s got a small blue cake with your name on the top. “I’m a little late to get here, I know. The cake people said it would take kind of a long time. I didn’t take it seriously, but… it did.” 

“That’s sweet,” you smile, sitting up on the bed and opening your arms for a hug. He quickly sets everything he’s holding on your vanity and wraps you up tightly. 

“I missed you. I’m sorry I was not here. I can make it all up to you—I will make it all up to you,” he nods, pressing kisses to your hair.

“It’s alright,” you reassure him. “It’s not like you had a choice.”

All of your earlier thoughts about being upset at him? Gone. Not only have you come to the realization that you just needed something to direct your feelings towards, but he’s just too precious to be mad at. 

He pulls away after a good minute. “I have gifts for you, but we can do those tomorrow. I want to do the cake, and we will watch your movie. Wait. You haven’t watched the birthday movie yet, have you?” 

“No. Not yet,”  you answer, grinning. He’s referring to the same movie you watch on your birthday every year. “I’d like that though. Cake then movie—good idea!” 

“Awesome,” he says, turning to pick the items back up. He sits next to you on the bed, opening the container that holds the cake, then rips open the package of candles he also got. “They only had one pack, and the packs only have four each in them. Is that okay?” 

You giggle at the random problem, imaging him standing in the store, stressing over what to do about the candles. “Fine by me. Plus, it looks like four is just enough to fit on here anyway.” 

“Your right. That’s great!” he responds, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before decorating the cake with the candles.

He sings you an awkward—but cute—rendition of happy birthday. You’d say he’s doing a pretty good job of making things up to you.

After the cake, William heads to the kitchen to make some popcorn while you pull up the movie. When he comes back you’re already cozy in bed, and he climbs up to join you. He immediately cuddles you to his chest. You smile, letting out a sigh of pure content.

Somehow, he managed to swoop in and completely fix a days worth of sadness for you. This feels nice. This is what you were hoping to get out of your birthday.

tags: @nic0-hischier @cheesecakeinahole @loveeky @hwalllllllelujah @alexxavicry @minhaimaginacao @puckinghockeygirl @justagirlgettingby

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