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octuscle · 6 months

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If a nerd in highschool suddenly gained muscular body, without an effect on his brains or mental state

How quickly would he actually, naturally change? Maybe the attention gives him an ego?

Or maybe the jocks want to be his friend

How much of a jock could the nerd become?

Project diary, entry 1 (Friday)

My name is Salomon Miller. I live in Providence, Connecticut and am a senior in high school. I wouldn't say I have any real hobbies, but I am interested in art history, architecture, astronomy and geology. And many other things. I read a lot and actually everything I can get my hands on. But my passion is sociology and political science. That's also one of the reasons why I'm writing this diary. Starting next semester, I will be studying at Stanford and have a full scholarship, which is linked to my participation in a project. The Department of Sociology will use my person to investigate the effects of serious physical changes on the psyche and behavior. I won't find out in advance what the physical changes are, but the changes were set in motion with the help of an injection that I received today.

My parents support me in the project. My father is a lawyer specializing in environmental law, my mother is a neurologist and psychiatrist. Neither of them understand why I chose to study sociology, but as they both studied at Stanford, they accept my plans. They don't have many options either, they are both in Europe for a long time. My mother has a research semester at the University Hospital of Heidelberg and my father is currently representing a client in a lengthy case at the European Court of Justice. I've known this situation since I was a child. I'm used to having our gardener or Consuela, our housekeeper, as my social contact. That's not meant in a negative way, I love my parents, even if our contact is often less intensive. This has taught me a certain independence, which I really appreciate.

Today is the Friday evening before the last weekend of the summer vacation. The date was chosen deliberately for the injection. This gives me until Monday morning to get used to the upcoming transformation. At the moment, I feel nothing more than a certain tiredness. Normally I would go for a long walk or read something. But I'm just exhausted and will go to bed early.

Project diary, entry 2 (Saturday)

I woke up at around 03:00 in the morning. I was scared to death. I was almost strangled by my pyjamas. I tried to rip the top off my body. I tore it completely to shreds. I was no longer wearing my pyjama bottoms, which were already lying in tatters in my bed. It was clear to me that the transformation had begun. And a look in the bathroom mirror gave me certainty. My whole body was twitching, just like I'd seen in a Hulk movie. Except I didn't turn green. But my muscles literally grew. In fact, little else has changed. I am still clearly me. Even though my neck was already wider than my head, which is why I almost suffocated in my pyjamas, this was still my face. My hairstyle unchanged. My eyesight was also the same. Fortunately, the head can't get any more muscular, the glasses still fit. My thoughts were running amok in my head, I can't describe the feeling, especially as the cramps didn't stop and the muscles continued to grow. I lay down on my bed and tried to relax. At around 04:30 the cramps subsided and I fell asleep again from exhaustion.

When I woke up at around 09:45, I was lying sticky and sweaty in a dried up puddle of semen. Obviously I had ejaculated once or several times. After getting up, I went to the bathroom to assess the change. According to the scales, I now weigh 120 kilograms (I assume that documentation in metric units is more scientific), my height is unchanged at 182 cm. What has actually changed is the length of my penis, which is now 18 cm when flaccid. I have not yet been able to measure the length when erect. In fact, I would have thought that the sight of a muscular man would somehow excite me. But my head has been working like crazy since I got up, I suppose my blood is needed in my brain and is not available for an erection. The shower was still an incredible experience. My body feels great. I had no idea what muscles felt like. However, I realized while showering that I had a problem: None of my clothes would fit me anymore. And my father is smaller than me and, like I was until yesterday, is also more of an ectomorph. My only hope was that José, our gardener, who is probably almost as muscular as me and about my height, had some of his clothes in the dirty laundry. He and Consuela both don't work at the weekend and I didn't want to invade his room.

I was actually lucky and managed to find a pair of jeans, a jockstrap, a T-shirt and a pair of tennis socks in the laundry. Everything smelled very unpleasant and at first I thought about washing it first and then putting it on, but then decided against it. Instead, I went to the mall as I was to buy something new to wear. There is an expense account from the project, which is presumably intended for exactly these cases. Shopping really was an ordeal. As usual, I went to Macy's at Providence Place Mall first, but I realized pretty quickly that I wasn't going to find anything in my size there besides clothes for gym class. Then I went to Abercrombie & Fitch for the first time. The sales assistants literally pounced on me. The XXL T-shirts fitted reasonably well, my thighs were too big for the jeans, but shorts were fine. Fortunately, the weather forecast for the next few days is still very good.

Even though I was extremely focused on quickly working through my shopping list and getting back home, I didn't miss the effect I had on my body. Not only did the sales clerks pay much more attention to me, people turned to me, nodded appreciatively at me and greeted me. It all made me extremely uncomfortable. I was glad when I got home again.

Project diary, entry 3 (Sunday)

I'm not really a religious person, but I value the institution of the church as a culturally integrating entity. So I probably would have actually gone to church, but I would have been very uncomfortable in shorts and low-cut t-shirts that exposed my chest. So I spent the day making up my bed, doing the laundry and getting ready for the first day of school after the vacations. My story for teachers and classmates will be that I spent the summer in Europe with my parents and discovered my enthusiasm for the gym out of boredom. I have no idea whether this story will be accepted. As much as possible, I completed the course enrollment online. Because I really have no idea what I can do with this body, I signed up for boxing and wrestling. The alternative would have been football, but I have no experience at all with team and ball sports. Swimming used to be the sport I hated the least, but a few laps in our pool today have shown me that my body has become less streamlined. Although I have a lot more strength, my times are worse than usual.

I have signed up again for the astronomy and chess clubs. Apart from that, I thought it made sense to leave myself enough time to be able to react to unexpected events.

My first real test was my Sunday video conference with my parents. As I can't hide anything, I decided to take the offensive and had the conversation in nothing but my swimming trunks by the pool. Even though I had no real idea of my parents' reaction, I was actually taken aback. My mother scientifically dissected the situation and said that my body was probably more efficient now and therefore I would have a benefit gain. My father disagreed, as he assumed that a bulkier body had a worse ecological balance. In the beginning, I tried to approach this project as objectively as possible. But then I couldn't help but start crying. I was afraid of tomorrow. And my parents actually showed something like emotion and compassion.

Project diary, entry 4 (Monday)

I was expecting something like running the gauntlet. But the first day at school was actually relatively unproblematic. Most of my friends at least pretended to believe my story about my stay in Europe. The teachers were not surprised either and largely went straight back to business as usual. The only noticeable reaction came from the musclemen and jocks. I have the feeling that they never took their eyes off me. When there was eye contact, I received a respectful nod. Otherwise, I felt a bit like a foreign lion approaching a pride of lions. Every muscle of the alpha animals and their water carriers was tense and ready to strike if I got too close to their watering hole. I'm looking forward to my first PE lesson tomorrow.

Project diary, entry 6 (Tuesday)

While the morning was more of a triumph, the afternoon was a debacle. The subject matter in chemistry and physics suits me very well, everything is very interesting. There shouldn't be any significant challenges in Spanish lessons either. But the new Spanish teacher is also an advantage here. Based on her first impression, she probably thought I was a hollow nut. She didn't expect me to have already read Don Quixote in the original and in the contemporary Spanish transcription during the vacations.

I embarrassed myself to the bone in gym class. Of course, after my contrived lie, everyone assumed that I knew my way around the gym like the back of my hand. And I don't even know how to hold a barbell properly. Interestingly, no one laughed at me or anything. On the contrary, they all assumed that I'm extremely underchallenged and told me that I should just train for myself and that I should join them next week after I've learned the basics. But maybe that was just polite contempt.

In any case, I spent the whole afternoon and evening at home watching all the gym tutorials I could get hold of and reading everything I could find about bodybuilding, nutrition and supplements. That's why I skipped the first session of the chess club. But I had to prioritize.

Project diary, entry 7 (Wednesday)

Theory is good, practice is better. That's why I went straight to the gym this morning at 06:00. The school janitor who opened the door for me said appreciatively that my discipline was paying off. The big boys are always the first to arrive in the morning. If only he knew. But in fact I was lucky, I was alone on the training area until 07:00 and by then I had familiarized myself with most of the machines I had learned how they worked in theory and had also developed a feeling for the weights I was able to lift.

The second visitor to the gym after me was the quarterback of the football team. Stephen and I have been at the same school since first grade. Of course I know him. But of course he has no idea who I am. We've never had classes together and someone like me is of course a nobody to him. Or was a nobody to him. Now I was his biggest rival, the only classmate who had bigger biceps and a broader chest than him. And being the alpha male that he was, he sought conflict directly. As far as I know, the jocks and Himbo's call it "cock comparison". Wherever I trained, he did the same afterwards with more weight. After training, he waited for me in front of the shower and said that he had already heard about me. I was the Spanish exchange student. I looked at him questioningly. "Well, the one who had that book with the windmills and the crazy knight at school. The linebacker goes to your Spanish course. Clever to take Spanish as a Spaniard," he said. I shook his hand, introduced myself as Salomon and told him we were in the same kindergarten. He returned the offered hand with a fist bump and said that I must have mistaken him. He had never been to Spain. But I spoke very good English for a Spaniard.

I always prefer to spend my lunch break alone. I like to read or just relax. This time, however, Stephen waved me straight over to him and his boys. He introduced me as Sal and said I should tell him how I liked it in the USA. At first, I wanted to start comparing European democracies with the US, especially in light of the rise of populist tendencies. But then I didn't think that was a good idea and just said that I thought the USA was the greatest country in the world. Stephen gave me a fistbump and all his buddies followed suit. Before English class after lunch, my friend Frederick passed me and said somewhat reproachfully whether I would always eat with the football team now. I laughed and gave him a fist bump and said that I would only eat as long as my primate research project lasted.

Project diary, entry 8 (Friday)

Yesterday was a wild day! I went to wrestling practice. Everyone but me has taken wrestling as a sport since they were in high school. I'm the only one who had no experience at all. Sure, I looked at and read through everything I could find to prepare. But without any practical experience, I really made a fool of myself. Thank God the coach really understood me. He said that he was sorry that bodybuilding wasn't a school subject. And then he gave me tips on how to pose properly. Damn, when I stood in front of the mirror in just my underpants and he touched my muscles to get them in the right position, I got a boner. And he obviously noticed. He then hugged me from behind and massaged my nipples. It was a feeling I'd never experienced before. I started to moan. He pulled me close to him. I felt his hard-on against my ass. And then I had my first orgasm outside of my bathroom. I was so embarrassed. And it was so great! Since then, I've really just wanted to make my coach proud. I've spent every spare minute at the gym, signed up to the sports club to do more wrestling and spent a small fortune on sportswear. I'm afraid I have a real crush for the first time in my life.

Today I got a telling off from my friends from the astronomy club. I missed the meeting and no longer see them during school breaks. I admit it, I'm neglecting my old social environment. But I have to find my way in my new role. Or rather, I have to find this new role first. Tonight I have a date with a couple of guys from the sports club. We're going to the gym first and then want to watch football in the sports bar. I'm a bit excited because I've tended to spend my weekend evenings alone in front of the computer so far. Now I have to think about what I'm going to wear.

Project diary, entry 9 (Sunday)

Dude, I might be drunk. For the second night in a row. The weekend is one big party. Last night at the sports bar was great. It was a little hard at first to pretend I knew anything about football. But after one beer I didn't give a shit. At some point, someone bought me some booze. Because his team had won or something. I was completely out of it and had to puke at some point. I can't really remember, but I'm afraid I didn't hit the toilet bowl. One of the boys then took me home with him. I really wasn't able to find my way home. Apparently, at some point I invited the boys over for a pool party on Saturday. And it escalated a little bit. Fuck, I probably have to spend the rest of the day tidying and cleaning. But for now I'm going to bed. After I've thrown up.

Project diary, entry 10 (Monday)

I'm a bit embarrassed about my behavior at the weekend. When I woke up on Sunday, a few of the boys were still snoring by the pool. And a few of them were making breakfast on the barbecue. I didn't really get around to cleaning. And then I overslept today too. Consuela suddenly came into my room and asked if my parents knew what had happened here. I gave her 100 dollars from my emergency expense fund and asked her not to reveal anything. She and Raoul actually did a great job. When I got home from astronomy club late at night, everything was pretty tidy again. The two of them are real treasures!

Mondays are not sports days. History, English, math. I admit that math has never been my hobbyhorse. And my teacher has made no secret of the fact that he thinks I'm an overprivileged white boy. When I couldn't answer a question to his satisfaction today, he said something along the lines of "Muscleheads are just all airheads". The whole back row started throwing paper balls at the teacher and hooting in protest. I have never received such expressions of sympathy.

Between school and the astronomy club, I went to the optician and got some contact lenses. Glasses are just so annoying when you're doing sport. And then I went to the hairdresser. I like my haircut. My hair is longer at the nape of my neck than at the sides. I had a photo of Coach with me and said that I wanted to look like this. Hehehe, the hairdresser said that he couldn't take away my muscles. In fact, I'm bigger than Coach. The hairdresser also shaved my beard. I haven't even written that yet, I have the feeling that my beard and body hair are growing faster and thicker. A bush is growing under my armpits and in my pubic area...

The astronomy club was terribly exhausting. I wanted to concentrate on the Jupiter-Venus conjunction. We had the best conditions to observe it today. But the nerds were all just asking questions about what exactly it was like on vacation, how I trained, how I changed my diet. I prepared myself for these kinds of questions. But every one of my answers was scientifically dissected. If it goes on like this, I'd rather look at the stars alone.

Project diary, entry 11 (Thursday)

The last few days have been pretty exciting, which is why I didn't get around to writing the diary. After training on Tuesday I went to the showers. Not all the guys on the team do this, but I just don't feel comfortable in the sweat with a bit of Axe under my arms. I also urgently needed to clear my balls and cock of the hair that was growing and shave my chest. I still can't get used to how hairy I get. In any case, it all took longer than with the other boys and then I was alone with Chuck in the shower. And suddenly Chuck knelt in front of me and sucked my cock. Without warning. I had prepared myself for intercourse in theory and in practice.

In any case, I've been a bit confused ever since. I mean, I have a crush on Coach. And Coach also got a boner when he helped me pose. I mean, he must think I'm hot too. But Chuck says he's had a crush on me ever since he and I spent Friday night together. The night I don't remember. But I'm writing all mixed up...

The blowjob in the shower was definitely sooooo hot. Even though it didn't last long. Boy, I shot my load into Chuck's mouth like that. My cum was leaking out of both corners of his mouth. He French kissed me with my cum in his mouth. Dude, I'm getting hard just thinking about it. And then he grinned and said that edging wasn't really my thing. I had no idea what he meant. In any case, I kissed him again and started wanking his cock. I was far too excited to suck him off myself. Chuck moaned and started twitching. Then he pulled me against him and wedged his cock between our stomach muscles. And then blew his load. Bloody hell! I don't know how long we showered together and soaped each other up.

In any case, I then started to gain practical experience with sexual intercourse. Chuck spent the night with me the day before yesterday and yesterday. The first time we fucked was really awkward. Chuck also asked if I was still a virgin. I said no, of course. But I'm sure he realized that it was the first time I'd fucked someone. And also that I was being fucked. In bed and in the hot tub. The first time I blew him was Wednesday in the school bathroom. We both just had a lot of pressure on our balls before civics. Shit, I'd never thought about sex before, now I can't get sex out of my head.

Practice is coming up. I just jerked off to the idea of forming a sandwich with Coach and Chuck in the shower. That would be so hot!

Project diary, entry 12 (Sunday)

Shit, I love my life. The parties this weekend were so hot. I mean, sure I love Chuck, but my dick has too much energy for one man. And Chuck gets off on me fucking other men too. As long as he's the only one who gets to fuck me. It's a point of honor, of course!

Before I go to bed now, I went to the gym again. To burn off the alcohol. And prepare my muscles for a tough week. I have my first wrestling tournament next Friday. And I've promised Steph-bruh, the quarterback, that I'll drop by football training. The hollow nut still calls me wetback, but has now understood that I'm not Spanish or Latino. And then I have to chat with my mentor from Stanford again. I don't know if sociology is really my subject. Chuck wants to study business administration. He's hoping for an athletic scholarship. Maybe I'm up for that too.

Inspiration found @redneckmusclehead

#male tf #muscle tf #jock tf #nerd to jock #nerd to hunk

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Break Me Down - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 5,200 Warnings: Some male skeeviness lol.

Part 1: The Game Begins

Two months ago…

You and M.M. continued to pour over all the records that the CIA had been able to pull on Soldier Boy.

This had been your life for the past month: locked in one hotel room after the next, up to your eyeballs in research. Or pounding the pavement in the sweltering summer of Brazil, on any whisper of Soldier Boy.

Right now it was the former. You all were piled into M.M.’s room, as it was the only one with a kitchen.

You smiled at Frenchie and thanked him when he offered you a steaming mug. At least you would finally get to experience Brazilian coffee.

You hiked a foot on the table where you and M.M. were working and sipped carefully; the mug was filled to the brim. Your companion eyed your pajama-clad leg, which only encroached an inch or two into his space.

“Excuse the fuck outta me,” said M.M. “Can you not?”

You briefly looked up from the (completely fabricated) biopic you were reading on Soldier Boy. “Hmm?”

M.M. gestured to your bare foot on the table. “Hello? What, were you raised in a fucking barn?”

With an amused smile, you lowered your leg. “I’m cramping up. We’ve been at this for six hours.”

“And counting,” Hughie said with a tired sigh. He and Annie had just come from scoping the local tourist spots and dive bars in the city. It wasn’t for pleasure though. You all had arrived in Brazil last night on a rumor that Soldier Boy had been spotted at a club a couple of days ago.

Annie heaved a sigh as she dropped into the seat next to you. She stole your paper fan on the table and tried to dry the sweat on her face and neck. You smiled and passed her your bottled water as well.

You and Annie had been “work friendly” at Supe Affairs. Now you felt like she had accepted you the most readily into the group. She seemed genuinely interested in who you were as a person as well.

Though you tried not to give too many personal details about your life, she had a way of disarming you, getting you to open up with her genuine willingness to listen.

You were friendly enough with Hughie and Kimiko as well, and you could also admit, you liked M.M. He was a straightforward man (and fun to tease with his anal idiosyncrasies). You got the most done with M.M. by your side. And watching him with Frenchie was pure entertainment.

Overall, you felt respected by them, even if you knew you weren’t as close as the rest of them seemed to be. You just hadn’t been on the team long enough.

The only one who mostly ignored you was Billy Butcher.

Butcher didn’t want you on the team. He’d made that pretty clear from the beginning.

What had his words been? Oh, yeah.

She’s a fucking amateur. Won’t last thirty seconds if, heavens for-fuckin’-bid, she encounters an A-lister like Soldier Boy.

You knew he considered you dead weight. But as Grace had told him, her track record speaks for itself.

No, you weren’t former SAS, like Butcher. You weren’t CIA, or any other military alphabet soup. But if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was tracking people down.

You were currently flitting through Soldier Boy’s sham career: the shitty music videos, the starlets, the ticker tape parades, and what precious little there was about his beginnings: about “Ben.”

You did find out that his family was from Hartford, Connecticut, and stupidly rich too. You found his parents’ names to go along with that.

And then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to him being unveiled as Soldier Boy.

“That is curious,” you murmured.

“Curious about the world’s most infamous granny fucker?” Butcher remarked. You slid him a wry look.

The fact that he tried to erase his past is interesting,” you said. “The details that aren’t here are just as important as the ones that are.”

Butcher hesitated a second, an ice-cold beer poised to his lips. He tipped it toward you in acknowledgement. “On that, we actually agree.”

“What do we know about his real life? Before he became Soldier Boy,” you asked.

Butcher sat down across from you and shaded in the details he knew, mostly about a disappointed father.

“Didn’t get enough hugs as a lad,” he surmised.

You suspected he was understating the truth. If there weren’t that many recorded accounts, pictures, or footage of Soldier Boy’s parents and home life, then he didn’t want people to know.

Interesting, you thought. Eventually Butcher got up to run down another lead that came in via text from Grace. Frenchie came back from the kitchen and saw how intently you were staring at your computer screen, eyes rapidly scanning.

“Ah,” Frenchie said, gesturing between you and the departed Butcher with a hand that held three alfajores cookies. “I see the same anal tenacity that fuels Monsieur Charcutier.”

You raised a brow. “My tenacity is for the case, not Soldier Boy.”

This wasn’t a vendetta for you. This was just business.

“For money,” M.M. correctly guessed, but his eyes held no judgment. “Been there.”

You sighed, smiling a little. Yes, you were doing this for money. They didn’t need to know anything more than that.

You liked this team well enough, but this was a job. The way you protected your family, and yourself, was by not talking about them.

That night, Frenchie’s ordered “package” arrived, courtesy of Grace. It was a healthy dose of Novichok gas—perhaps one of the only substances on Earth that could put Soldier Boy into a peaceful sleep.

Well, you didn’t know if it was peaceful, exactly. But he’d be asleep. That was all any of you cared about.

“At least it’s in proper containment this time,” M.M. said, examining the large cannister. Annie peered at it over his shoulder.

“I don’t know. My shitty perfume case seemed to hold it just fine,” she quipped.

You smiled from your usual seat at your computer. Annie came over with a sandwich for both of you. It was from the café down the street, and you’d been meaning to try it. Every time you stood out on your hotel room’s balcony, you could smell fresh bread and smoked meats coming from the café.

“Oh, yeah. How’s your sister?” Annie asked around a mouthful of sandwich. “She’s in college now, right?”

She had a good memory. Annie had heard you on the phone with your sister before you all left last month. You’d said one last goodbye, knowing it wouldn’t be safe to talk once you were locked into this mission.

While you were reluctant to answer Annie’s question, the others seemed distracted in the kitchen, fighting over who ordered chorizo and who ordered steak on their sandwich.

Still, you lowered your voice, even as a proud smile graced your lips. “She got into Julliard.”

Annie grinned and set her food down to give a little clap.

“She starts in the fall, so a few months,” you added.

“Aww, you’re glowing with pride,” Annie teased. And you laughed, but it was true. You wouldn’t hide that you were very proud of your little sister’s accomplishments.

“She’s worked hard, and she deserves it,” you said. Though your eyes dimmed. “I just wish I could help her celebrate…she’s on my case for taking this job.”

Quite simply, she worried about you. You were good at your job, but you were still human. She’d seen you come home banged up and bruised more often than you cared to admit…

Annie gave you a knowing look. “If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to. I’m sure you can get other jobs—”

“Getting into school is just the beginning,” you said. “She’s got four years to go. Then her master’s. Hell, her doctorate if she wants.”

“There are scholarships…”

“It’s not enough,” you said with a sigh. It’s never enough.

“All right, lads,” Butcher said. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as he read off his phone. “The new Strongest Cunt in the World has been spotted. Suit up.”

“Where’re we going?” you asked, closing up your laptop.

Butcher shot you a wink. “Colombia.”

While on the private plane, you were the only one still awake as you continued to watch the archival footage with your Airpods in. Reel after motherfucking reel of Soldier Boy.

You really were starting to get sick of his smug face. He was clearly a good actor, if nothing else.

Then you came across the Russia files.

Part of you didn’t want to watch. You knew exactly what they were, and you didn’t want to see anything that would make you sympathize with him in your mind…

And yet, your father’s training was ingrained in you—like fingerprints on your skin. Like a vice grip around your throat.

Everything is relevant, always. Even if it isn’t.

…That, and maybe your own insatiable curiosity won out.

So you steeled yourself with a breath, and you hit the play button.

Gradually, your eyes widened.

You had seen awful things—as a private investigator at your father’s firm, and at Vought.

You had filled your quota of blood and death. And you had already seen the footage of Soldier Boy blasting a tower full of people in New York with the nuclear power now housed in his chest.

You also knew what he did to M.M.’s family. But after watching several minutes of Soldier Boy's torture, hearing his struggle, his outbursts of rage, the ragged gasps for breath, the clawing, traumatized sounds...

It was like stereo between your ears, and it was...too familiar. Too much.

So you finally turned it off, closing your laptop with an unsettled breath of your own.

And you were unable to sleep that night.

When you all finally arrived in Colombia, you and the team surveyed the wreckage in the casino.

It was a fucking blood bath.

As you stepped carefully through the wreckage of bodies and gambling chips, you looked for clues. Anything that might tell you about what Soldier Boy was doing here (though you could guess), and however unlikely, where he might go next.

You were disheartened to find the body of a young woman. Her big blue eyes were vacant, her blonde hair caked with blood from a head shot. On further inspection, you found a small room key in her hand.

With a sigh and a gloved hand, you took the key. You also closed the girl’s eyes.

You kept looking while the others had fanned out in the opposite direction. When you came across a small table that wasn’t turned over or splintered into fragments, you raised a brow. There was a napkin pinned to the top with a steak knife.

You yanked it out and examined the flimsy napkin. Noticing that you’d found something, Butcher came over to your side. He was much taller than you, fairly looming over your shoulder. You angled the note toward him.

Try harder.

S.B.

It was more than just a taunt.

It was the beginning of a game. And it made you smile.

“What the hell’re you smiling about?” Butcher asked.

“I like it when they’re cocky,” you replied. Butcher shot you a sideways glance, one that said you were maybe more deranged than even him.

“All supes are cocky bastards.”

You eyed him with a teasing grin. “On that, we actually agree.”

True to Grace’s word, she provided you all with the full extent of the CIA’s resources. While Butcher tracked down the hotel of the room key you found, you and M.M. were able to tap into any and all local street cameras and map out the likely points Soldier Boy had hit in this city—and where he could be going next.

According to the hotel manager, Soldier Boy had paid for a month’s stay, but hadn’t checked out after coming back for some of his belongings. The security cameras had caught him leaving his hotel room with a few men—armed ex-military types, and possibly his new entourage.

But the trail ended there.

Over the next two months, Soldier Boy continued to be one step ahead of you in the chase.

Though his movements were calculated (disappearing like a coil of smoke whenever you caught his scent), he seemed to be taking an extended vacation surrounding strip clubs, casinos, and other likely destinations for sex, drugs, and money.

And he’d evaded capture after hitting at least three banks on his way out of the U.S. alone.

At the current crap motel of the week, you shared the couch with Kimiko and Hughie while you surveyed traffic cameras.

“What’s the likelihood that he’s even still in Colombia? In South America, even?” Hughie asked. It was a good goddamn question.

“We have agents covering every major port and air hanger,” M.M. said. “If he wants to escape the continent, he’s gonna have to fight his way out, or rent a dingy and float his motherfuckin’ ass across the Atlantic.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” you remarked. “What connections does he have?”

It wasn’t the first time you’d asked that question, but it was the first time you got a straightforward answer.

“Who knows,” said M.M. “He’s an ancient fuck.”

“Who killed all his old friends,” Hughie supplied.

“Well, his team, to be fair. I don’t think he ever had friends,” Annie said. “...Plus his old girlfriend.”

“What a spectacular bonfire that was,” Butcher dryly quipped.

Nice, you thought, heavy on the sarcasm.

You sighed. Clearly, you all would have to be prepared for anything.

When you weren’t pouring through surveillance, you took to the streets with Annie, playing the part of American tourists.

“Soldier Boy don’t know who the fuck you are,” Butcher had reasoned. He’d then pointed at Annie.

“Her fame as Starlight can get you two into whatever bar, club, or fuckhole that might’ve let him in. She’ll park it at a table, attracting attention. Meanwhile, you’ll circle around and look for him.”

It was actually a sound plan, and you could be a decent actor yourself. This wasn’t the first time you’d adopted a role to find your target, and on this mission, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Well, a week later, the plan worked. You and Annie encountered a woman at a bar who waited tables at a nearby club, in Medellin. She’d served Soldier Boy just last night.

Medellin was considered the party city of Colombia, and for good reason.

Butcher had cleverly found your “disguise” for tonight, though you hadn’t liked the smirk on his bearded face when he gave you the shopping bag.

It turned out to be a semi-legal black leather dress, along with thigh-high boots possessing a sharp heel. Annie’s dress was just as short, and gold. With her blonde hair and shimmering makeup contrasting your black dress and smokey makeup, the two of you looked like night and day. Light and dark.

While Hughie manned surveillance in a rented van, parked outside the club, the rest of the team had found strategic points to cover in the club: M.M. was at the bar. Frenchie and Kimiko had found a table to watch the area in front of the stage, while Butcher was somewhere clinging to the shadows.

You followed Annie into the club. Once they’d recognized her as Starlight, they’d let her right in, and you by association. You didn’t envy her fame, but you could admit, it had some perks.

Inside, the club was dark and loud, and packed with people and streams of colorful light bouncing off the walls. This isn’t going to be easy.

Both of you scoped the area subtly before joining M.M. at the bar.

Well, you two found your own opening further down. Sitting next to him would be too obvious.

You subtly pressed a finger to the communicator in your ear while Annie ordered drinks.

“It’s gonna be hard to find my own ass in here,” you said to the team. You scanned the place and noticed an entire second and third floor. “This place is huge.”

“Then get crackin’, love,” Butcher’s voice reached you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but you did take the vodka martini Annie offered you.

“Ah, you beat me to it,” a man said, his richly accented voice hovering near your ear. You turned your head and had to lean back a bit. You were met with blue eyes, tan skin, and an attractive smile. The man tipped an imaginary hat, letting his shoulder-length dark hair dip into his eyes.

“Good evening, mi vida,” he said. “I was gonna buy you a drink, but I see you’ve got one. Mind if I finish my beer with you?”

Inwardly you wanted to sigh, but you gave a flirtatious smile to keep up appearances. “Sure.”

“Where are you from?” he asked, and with a more teasing smile. “I’m having a hard time placing your accent.”

You affected a giggle. “Oh, really? You mean I don’t have a massive, neon sign over my head that says, ‘American Tourist?’”

“Well, maybe not neon,” he joked. “I’m Antonio.”

“I’m Jess,” you lied, shaking his hand. He turned it over and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Annie raised a brow behind you, but she sipped her drink.

Antonio must’ve been a local. His dark blue buttoned-down shirt, jeans, and boots were more casual than the obvious tourists with their flashing finery. And by his accent, you could guess that he was at least Latino. Colombian, most likely.

You were able to subtly dodge the question of exactly where you were from. And the two of you flirted for a few minutes while you continued to survey the people passing by, scanning the gaps between bodies.

When Antonio finally asked you to dance, you agreed. It would get you further into the club with a better excuse than walking around aimlessly. You turned to Annie.

“Catch you later?” you asked. She tossed you a wink.

“Yeah, girl. Have fun!”

You smiled and let Antonio lead you to the dance floor. You discreetly used every movement to your advantage, looking beyond your dancing partner to continue your search. If Soldier Boy was here, you would find him.

“He’s not here,” said Antonio. It actually managed to jerk you out of your focus.

“Who?” you asked, feigning confusion.

“Whoever you’re looking for that isn’t me,” he said, injecting a fair bit of charm into his voice.

You actually felt your face warming up at that. The way he was looking at you now, there was very little doubt as to what he wanted. His grip on your hips tightened.

Part of you was getting impatient with this part of the game, but at the very least, he was a good dancer. He pulled you effortlessly through the cumbia, Colombian salsa dancing, even if he was starting to sweat on you.

Now, you could almost swear someone was watching. Though it might’ve been the sweat dripping down your spine, you felt that strange prickle on the back of your neck.

Well, besides Annie. You knew she was keeping an eye on you from the bar, as were Frenchie and Kimiko as they joined a poker game in the far corner, away from the dance floor.

Your gaze continued to flit through every corner of the room between spins and the movements of your feet and your hips.

When Antonio’s hands started get a bit too familiar with the curve of your ass, you took his hands and used them to spin yourself. He brought you back in tight. A bit too tight.

“Come on, baby…” he whispered in your ear.

And you felt his hand slide up the inside of your thigh. He even had the audacity to try and slip past the lacey front of your underwear.

That’s when your patience snapped.

You grabbed his wrist and “accidentally” drove your heel into his foot. With precision you felt it land between two vertebrae.

The girlish yelp he made brought a flicker of a smile to your lips, but you covered it with a doe-eyed look and many bumbling apologies.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

He all but shoved you as he limped away, cursing you in Spanish. You’d taken four years of it in high school, and you still only caught half of it.

Hiding your smile, you walked away and pressed a discreet finger to the comm in your ear.

“The stage front is clear. Scoping the back.”

“Wait for me,” Annie said. She was still sitting at the bar. “I think you broke that guy’s foot.”

“He had tenacity,” Frenchie remarked.

“All balls and no brains, as usual,” you muttered. “Stay there and look shiny, Annie. He’s less likely to recognize me, but he might come out to play if he spots a familiar face at the bar.”

“She’s right,” Butcher said to Annie. “Stay where you are.”

You made your way to the bathroom and scoped the hall. There in the privacy of the shadows, you adjusted the gun holster on your thigh. It was a miracle Antonio hadn’t felt it.

Not that a gun would do much against Soldier Boy, but you didn’t feel right without it.

Then you kept moving and dodged various couples making out (and more) on your way upstairs.

“Going up,” you informed the team quietly. The second floor was a series of rooms, none of which you wanted to pop in on without an invitation.

After you made it to the end of the hall, you turned a corner and noticed a door hung open a crack. Sliding it open, you found a wall of music there to greet you.

And that wasn’t all.

Inside was a room of people drinking and drugging and generally doing things to one another. You didn’t want to go in, but you wouldn’t put it past Soldier Boy to get caught up in a mass orgy.

You walked through the room, only taking in what you needed to with your eyes.

Focusing on the far wall, you saw a leather chair by the window, with a still smoking cigar laid to rest in an ash tray on a small table. Your head tilting with interest, you went over to the table and found another hand-written note.

Once again, you sighed. “He’s not here, guys. He bounced.”

Once you all regrouped with Hughie outside the club, you handed the note to Butcher with a grimace.

“You have a love letter,” you said. And Hughie too.

With a wry brow raise, Butcher looked down at the scrap of paper.

Butcher, you’ll die first. Then the cum-guzzler.

S.B.

That night at the hotel, after you'd showered and peeled off that ridiculous dress, you poured over the Soldier Boy files again.

You hadn’t touched the Russia ones since that first night, but you knew you were missing far too much. In order to anticipate his moves, you needed to understand how he thought.

You couldn’t do that if you didn’t even have the full picture of who he was. And the movies, the silly music videos, even the exploded skyscraper and Homelander’s death—none of it told the full story of Ben.

It didn’t tell you what he wanted. What he cared about. Why he was playing cat and mouse instead of just taking his stand, like his soldier persona would’ve demanded of his pride.

Or maybe that pride's just like everything else: a well-crafted costume.

A knock at your door jolted you out of your thoughts.

You got up to your feet, briefly looking down to make sure you were decently dressed (you supposed pajama shorts, a bra, and a tank top would suffice). You grabbed your gun and checked the peephole before you answered the door with a smile.

It was M.M. with a mug of tea for you. “I knew you’d still be up, killin’ those files. It’s almost morning, you know.”

You accepted the mug with a warmer smile.

“Aw, you do care,” you quipped. He rolled his eyes.

You laughed a little. “Seriously, thank you.”

He pointed at you.

“Go to sleep,” he said. You raised two fingers to your temple in salute.

“Sir. Yes, sir!” you joked. Really, you appreciated his concern. After hearing many a story about his daughter Jennine, and seeing how the rest of the team respected him, you knew that he was a good man.

And thanks to him and Annie, you were actually starting to feel like part of this team.

After you wished him goodnight (or good morning, at this rate), you closed the door to your hotel room, followed closely by your laptop.

You took out your phone, silently contemplating what time it would be in New York right now.

Well, it would be very early in the morning. Still, you thought it was worth a try, since you had the time.

You dialed your sister, Luisa. While it rang, you remembered just how thin these hotel walls were. So you stepped out to the rickety balcony. Jeez, hope it holds my weight throughout this call.

When your sister eventually answered, she murmured your name sleepily in confusion.

“Hey, sorry for waking you up,” you said, feeling bad.

“It’s okay.” She yawned. “I should be up soon anyway. Got 8 am classes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Ech. Screw that shit,” you teased.

“You’re the one sweating balls in South America.”

“I’d rather be drowning in my own sweat than listening to some old bag drone on for eight hours,” you volleyed back, and leaned against the balcony’s railing, even as it creaked suspiciously with your weight.

“You, my friend, are uninspired. You mean to tell me mosquitoes and drug cartels are better than Mozart?” your sister asked incredulously. Her sleepy voice was starting to lose some of its gravel as you two fell into familiar bickering.

“Wow, way to type cast. Not all of South America is about drug-running,” you pointed out.

“Aren’t there, like, entire shows about people shoving cocaine up their ass to get from Colombia to Miami?” Luisa asked.

“…Yes, but that’s not the point,” you said with a giggle. “And good guess. I’m actually in Medellin right now.”

“Are you supposed to tell me that?”

“Not really, no, but I don’t think you’ll sell me out to the cartels,” you joked. Or to the Russians, your mind added. That thought made your lips twist sourly.

“Anyway, are you okay? How’s school, really?”

“It’s good, sis. You know I’m good. I’m worried about you,” she countered, and you could hear the concern in her voice.

“You know me. I’m always good,” you replied with good humor. The silence on the other line told you that you hadn’t been quite convincing enough.

“When do you think you’ll come home?” she asked.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night (or morning), you sighed. “That’s hard to say.”

The answering silence told you even more about your sister’s thoughts, and you felt guilty for it.

“I’m happy just knowing you’re doing so well. With school, starting your adult life, doing your thing,” you added.

“You need to start thinking about yourself,” she told you.

“What do you mean, Lou? I’m fine.”

It was Louisa’s turn to sigh.

“You know, I was so proud of you when you decided to leave Vought," she said. "When you finally got out from under Dad. When you started working at Supe Affairs…you seemed happy, like you were finally proud of yourself too.”

Emotion started to burn behind your eyes. Part of it was probably sleep deprivation, but you heard the sincerity in your sister’s voice.

She just knew you so well. And she wasn’t lying there—what she’d said was all true of you. However, after the joke that was Victoria Neuman running Supe Affairs, you didn’t know what you could trust anymore.

Maybe not even your own judgment.

“But I really wish that you’d consider more than just your work,” Luisa said. “Like a hobby. Take a painting class. Go to karaoke, like we used to do in grade school after Choir practice. You have such a beautiful voice! Like Grandma’s was.”

“I’ll leave the performing to you, Lou,” you said with a chuckle. She was serious, however.

“Work isn’t everything,” she reminded you. Now her voice was firm. “You should go out with your friends. Go out with Annie! Rub shoulders with her celebrity friends.”

“Right.” You huffed a laugh. You’d been around plenty of famous supes while at Vought. You’d ran down the leads and tracked down the criminals, just for the supes to swoop in and “save the day.” You did the grunt work, and they claimed the credit.

You’d had enough of “celebrities” to last you a lifetime.

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa said. “And finally put an end to that goddamn dry spell. What's it been, like three years?”

“All right, all right.” You held up a hand of surrender, even if she couldn’t see it. You were grateful she couldn’t catch you blushing. “That’s enough about my non-life, thanks.”

You shook your head. Embarrassment actually clawed inside your belly.

Yes, it had been a while since you’d actually been with anyone, relationship or otherwise. You just didn’t have time to have a life, you’d reasoned. Working at Vought had been grueling, and your hours at the S.A., while better, were still demanding.

…Still, you could appreciate that your work-life balance left much to be desired. And that was on you.

Case in point, you were on this job.

You tipped your face heavenward, letting the sunrise spill some warmth on your face.

“But…I hear you, okay?” you replied with your eyes closed.

“You do?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. When I get back, I…I’ll work on it, okay?” you said. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. I should probably get going, but…please be safe.”

“Always,” you promised.

After you hung up, you finally opened your eyes.

That prickly feeling was back, almost like you were being watched.

You scanned around, but your human eyes didn’t find anything out of the ordinary in the sunshine pouring in between the rows of buildings.

In fact, you didn’t see a damn thing that wasn’t supposed to be there.

So you clutched your phone to your chest, letting out a deep breath. Then you headed back inside.

But mere feet above you, if you had only looked up to the roof, you would’ve seen a hunter lazily eyeing his prey.

AN: Ok! So a little bit slow in this chapter, but it’s all important setup.

In the next chapter, the reader meets Soldier Boy:

You laid a hand on his chest, fingers spreading between the open buttons, and felt his warm skin.

He glanced up at you with another challenging tilt to his head. What are you gonna do now?

You met that challenge, boldly leaning down to press a kiss against his lips.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303 @123passwort @xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @yvonneeeee @fckinel

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kanmom51 · 9 months

Text

Ahm... HAPPY BIRTHDAY JK

And happy JK day Jikookers.

What a morning to wake up to!!!

You open your eyes and this is what you are hit with.

The black and white couple in BLACK & WHITE.

Happy birthday Kookie indeed.

Yes, that was JM's hashtag: Happy birthday Kookie or Kookie's birthday, depending on your translator.

I am definitley still processing.

Well JM, you have definitely out done yourself.

Better than even this:

Ok then, did I not say that JM will not disappoint us? He NEVER does!!!

And yes. JM posted it to his account. Not a story. Not something that will be deleted or go away within 24 hours.

No.

JM posted this photo of the two of them in Connecticut on his IG timeline for forevers!!! Right next to his hot boyfie's Hot 100 post.

Yes JM, we know your boyfie is Hot and he's all yours. And you have now told us all just that. You claimed him!!! He is definitley yours.

Had a hoot reading the comments, lol. Someone asking if they are together, and the answers. Many answer yes (surprising), but then, the denial some people are in. Besties. Brothers. Ok then. 🤣🤣🤣 Those calling them besties are probably same ones that ignore Jikook moments, ot7-fy them, dismiss them, but now they are besties... Well, my partner is also my bestie, so...

Good thing my timeline is curated, lol. I cannot imagine the way the fandom is imploding. I think this is kind of a good description though:

So yeah, JM did not disappoint.

And dropping it at the start of the day for all of us to go nuts for the whole day too, lol.

Now, doing that, posting so early on (may I remind you that the last couple of years he posted toward the end of the birthday or even just after the day ended?), I cannot help wonder if there is more coming for us today...

I mean, JK's live, well an 9 minute live, an all new record for him. Funny how his records are how short his lives are, lol.

What do we know so far?

JK was out to dinner with others that he was practicing with.

Took photos with fans that saw him out.

Posted for his birthday on 31.8.23 at 23:55 or 11:55 pm.

Coming home, still in same outfit as he was eating out, JK goes live for 9 minutes. A new record low (well, apart from his Mingyu live), lol. Shorter than his panty folding live.

He was a man on a mission. Coming to say hi.

Showing us the 2 aces. Army. Yep.

Doing a card trick.

Saying love ya, a term used multiple time by JM.

And diving out of there.

So, I wonder.

First of all, was there someone there already or someone he was expecting to arrive?

Same someone that posted that mind blowing pic to set the fandom on fire.

JK's live was at 00:55 am KST. Going for 9 minutes approx. JM posted at 1:33 am KST. I wonder. I wonder if they picked out that photo together, lol.

Oh, I got sidetracked, didn't I?

Because my point was meant to be: Is this all we are getting this year?

No cake? No long karaoke live? No long live period? No TikTok post from our birthday boy, who told us he is now a TikTok content creator? No Jikook live?

I mean, JM's pic, well it's a gift. But is it gift enough?

And no, I'm not being greedy here talking about a gift for us. I'm talking about a gift for JK. Because JK wants that damn live together. Giving him that live together, that would definitely be a worthy gift for his birthday!! Lol.

Just saying...

Did I mention everything I wanted to? Probably not. I'm writing this off the top of my head rushing to post, cause I need for this to be out there, like 2 hours ago, lol.

Kind of hoping that as the day goes by there will be more to talk about. Kind of counting on it, lol.

Oh wait, did I mention JK was wearing same brand as JM?

Ooh, and forgot to mention that PolyC reposted JM's post:

And last thing before I go:

I just loooooove seeing that JM, can't help myself.

Ok, so this gif does not do the JM justice. Watch the live and see just how pronounced it is!!! LOOOOOOOVE it.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KOOKIE!!!

#Jungkook #JK #JK birthday #JK birthday 2023 #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jimin #JM

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

Text

✮⋆˙ finding the divine in the domestic; mortal gods blurb

content: greek gods as morals??? ig??? warning: you will cry (hopefully) you will laugh (hopefully) you will feel mushy gushy feelings (hopefully) author's note: this is the most beautiful thing ive ever written...i just...i dont even care if you guys like this one bc i love it...something about the romanticizing of human life from the eyes of people who have never experienced it just...gets me sappy.

the gods, wanting to avoid ending up like their parents, decided to pass the torch to their own children instead of waiting for a usurping to come. let's take a look into their mortal lives now, huh?

zeus and hera got a cookiecutter house in connecticut. its just one of those houses that always looks put together, a perfect wife curled up on the couch with a book waiting for her perfect husband to come home from work. for a while, it was a facade. they fought nearly every night, thundering voices and lightning quick jabs made constantly. but, every night, following another harsh fight, zeus would lay down on the perfect couch. he'd sigh, not completely sure why he fought with her as much as he did. then he'd hear it. the quiet pitter patter of hera's feet against the hardwood. she'd walk up to the couch and, without a word, curl up beside him. zeus always made room for her, his strong arms easily finding waist to keep her from falling off the couch in the night. and in the morning, they'd decide it was time to seek counseling. because the love was there - you could taste in, it hung so strongly in the air - and they both wanted to make it work. and there is no shame in getting a little help.

poseidon made his way to sunny, beautiful, california. he bought a bungalow, right on the beach, naturally. it was hard to find him not on the beach. and when he wasn't there, soaking in the sun or surfing the waves, he was picking up trash or joining waste management teams. he refused to let his son's domain rot away with plastics and trash. he often made his way to visit sally and her husband, becoming that strange uncle that you only see every now and then but is your favorite to estella. but, he was content, paying eight bucks for crappy coffee and giving advise to new surfers. he found peace on those california beaches. and trash. lots and lots of trash. but, he was working on it, chewing out any teens who had the audacity to leave behind any plastic straws or tin cans.

hades and persephone settled down in oregon, a house deep in the foggy woods. it was a modern and striking house but nearly impossible to find. the pair had gotten used to the doom and gloom, not quite ready to embrace the sun. persephone's garden was as large as she wanted, every whim of hers met and fulfilled by her husband. hades found a love for dark and smooth coffee, investing his time and money in a fancy espresso bar. stock, out of view as to not ruin his gloomy aesthetic, was stuffy for persephone's brightly colored margaritas. they'd share these drinks as jazz blared from a record player and hades would spin his darling wife around the living room. and for those of you who found this modern house deep in the trenches of oregon, you'd see a loving husband spinning around his loving wife through a large and impressive window. and you'd believe in love again.

hermes found a comfort in the busy streets of philadelphia. he became a huge sneakerhead, naturally, though he had a bad habit of running holes right through the soles of very valuable and sought shoes. he figured they were meant to be worn though, not hidden inside some glass box. he helped a local post office, helping elderly lady's send packages to their distant children and helping teens write love letters to crushes. he once helped a man with his voicemail, the two writing jokes for hours until they found the perfect one. hermes ran every morning, watching the sun raise on a city that he loved before stopping and finding a park bench. there he'd sit, a batch of warm chocolate chip cookies that always reminded him of the boy he failed and a philly cheesesteak from the shop that would have close down without his business. and on the days in which he missed anyone, he'd leave a voicemail, in hopes they'd just call him back.

athena never stood stagnant again. she bounced all over, never really finding a home to call her own. but she was happy this way, seeing a library in every state or country. finding books in languages she couldn't read but buying them anyways, knowing one day should would be able to read it. she went on loads of museum tours, correcting the poor guides at every opportunity. and while waiting for the next flight or train, she'd talk to strangers. men, women, old, or young, it didn't matter to her. she just wanted to know everything these people were willing to share with her. amir, a suave college boy from utah with a love for beanies, taught athena how to play cat's cradle. adelaide an elderly southern bell from georgia taught athena why she should never pair black and navy blue together. sweet little chloé, a seven year old girl from michigan dressed like a superhero, taught athena how to play pattycake. and she never forget anything these people taught her, the knowledge they shared something she held tight to her chest, it only oozing out when she was questioned by others who simply wanted to learn.

ares got a big house smack-dab in the middle of texas. he liked the biting heat and the numbing cold. he liked the seemingly endless roads that he could ride his bike on, never really knowing when it ended. he liked his guns and he liked picking fights over politics. but his favorite, by far, was the barbeque he could find on every corner. he liked starting bar fights but leaving before he could get caught in them, his bike reeving over the sound of glass smashing against someone's head. but he also liked tending to his neighbor's farm. he liked branding the cows and horses, burning permeant claims on them, the custody of it all. he liked yelling at the sheep to herd them, not even needing to cup his lips to get the desired decimals. he grew fond of the manual labor and the farmers tan. he whole dirty and bloody exchange of caring for a farm, raising pigs and cows for slaughter, riding and training horses that once started out bucking at anything that moved, even the lazy shepherd dog wormed it's way into what could be considered the closest thing ares had to a heart.

hephaestus and aphrodite moved into a house just outside of miami, florida. aphrodite wanted to be close to the buzz of people and hephaestus liked the work ethic of people down there. plus, he wanted his wife to be happy. they compromised, close enough to miami for a weekend trip but far enough away to allow them to relax. he opened up a shop of his own, his fingers itching to work, and she was more than happy to accompany him in this business endeavor. while hephaestus chatted up men about their cars, aphrodite would drag their lovers away into her office and gossip over glistening pink teas and scones. she'd been more than happy to help with paper work, filing their taxes in a glittery pink gel pen and signing away on checks with a metallic purple one. she'd always packed lunches for the two, sweet love letters written on pink post it notes shoved on top, the first thing he'd see. and he made sure the house was exactly what she wanted. if she off handedly mentioned she didn't like the color of the bathroom anymore, he'd be changing it within seconds. even if he just painted it the day before, he didn't care. his favorite passion projects were whatever her whims requested of him, each one he devoted himself to fully, even if he did have to change it in a week because sage green is apparently out now.

demeter got a condo in boston. she paid extra for a balcony, which she could barely walk out onto anymore as the plants she had were overflowing the place. she could see the boston commons from her condo, where she'd always pull a chair out onto the compact balcony with her iced tea and people watch. she chatted with people who passed under her balcony, waving warming as they raced off to their jobs or their classes. sometimes, when they had no where to be and nothing but time on their hands, she'd buzz them up. by the time they reached her door, there was already another chair set up and a steaming cup of tea just waiting for them. and she'd share stories, personal anecdotes hidden behind plant puns and her siblings names switched out for foliage. zeus turned into aster, poseidon to cypress, and hades to elm. she talked fondly of her family, secrets hidden behind the lip of her mug. and then she was waving the no longer strangers out of her door, leaning over her balcony as they left, beaming a smile and waving her hand like a flower bursting out of the snow at the end of winter.

apollo moved far out to san diego. he found comfort in one night stands, something about warm skin pressed against warm skin. he tested and trailed but never settled. walk of shames didn't exist to him, those were just a regular walk. and he was having fun, which is all he cared about. he'd return to his apartment, which was cloaked in sunlight and cozy vibes. he'd pet the tabby cat that moved in without his permission and serve himself a breakfast of avocado toast, thinking of the boy he'd met at the cafe a few weeks ago. and while he poured his steaming coffee, he thought of the girl he bought groceries for after her card declined and they way she hugged him so tightly and warmly, thanking him with a kiss to his cheek. and as he curled up on his couch to eat, he called his twin sister, just to tell her he loved her and nothing more. she didn't pick up, surely asleep even though it was 9 in the morning, but she'd always been a night owl. without leaving a voicemail, apollo abandoned his meal and his cat, swiping up his keys and desperately running out of his house, determined to make it to his sisters place before she awoke. he just wanted to beam a smile at her and give her a warm hug and be spontaneously him.

artemis lived in colorado...sometimes. she moved around a lot, too. often she could be found slumming it at her brother's apartment, as he wasn't there very much in the night time. she'd found a deep comfort in speakeasies and dive bars, nothing filling her quite as much as an overpriced and crappy burger. the woods were another source of comfort and there she found a love for snowboarding. the racing down the snowy peaks and blurring of the deep green trees giving her a rush that only life-risking sports could do. she liked the clink and clank of her silver rings against each other, each finger have at least one, but probably more than one, except for her ring finger. that one she proudly left bare, not in wait, but simply because she was above that. she'd tried it, the kissing and the sharing of skin, and decided it just wasn't for her. her twin brother would always joke that now there was more for him and they'd laugh, finding it amusing in the way only siblings can.

god, doesn't just stun you how lucky we are to live a life?

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo fandom #hoo #let me romanticize the greek gods please and thank you #greek gods #ancient greek #greek mythology

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stormblessed95 · 8 months

Text

Jungkooks Latest Rainbow Moments 🌈

Just because there are enough moments I haven't posted about yet that I can make a small thread post now 🤣 starting with the most recent. WHAT was this ending fairy moment JK??? I saw someone go "that muscle memory kicking in" 😭😭🤣🤣 listen, he said "the song may be about girls, but I suck d**k, don't forget it!" (Listen, my blog is ran by an adult, and everyone here should BE an adult, okay? Lol) He HAS to know what this looks like. Cmon

Which, only 2 weeks ago was when he posted THIS video on tiktok.... on the same day that he said "I don't have a girlfriend, stop asking me that." Then posted this trend video with a bunch of girls name on the audio with the captain "I go the other way" SIR YOU HAVE TO KNOW WHAT THAT LOOKS LIKE AND IMPLIES lol and then he deletes the video a little bit later saying that he wants his tiktok to just be dancing videos 🤣

This whole outfit being from a collection that is based off queerness and gender nonconformity

Jimin and JK visiting a brewery with a pride flag hung up outside while in Connecticut together

JK liked the Lesbian verison of Seven on tiktok!

https://twitter.com/wayjks/status/1692282985272217663?t=0MmGMp58jsz-fcwEuEw7QA&s=19

The eyelash fluttering flirting to try and get what he wants?? Gay

Wlw couple on a date in Seven? Maybe!

He KNOWS he is Babygirl

Just repping Queer history and culture through his clothes!

And an older moment, but he is so sweet. But let's not pretend that picking a favorite based off the angsty yearning and romantizing the yearning is very stereotypically queer of my man 😍 JK is so soft though for real, my baby

(^ from ARMY Kit)

I love this man so much. He will ALWAYS be for the girls and the gays 🥰🌈💁🏻‍♀️

#JK rainbow moments #Jungkook rainbow moments

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pedge-page · 4 months

Note

Okay but pls feel free to ignore this I'm not creative but I love your writing

But I have an elderly sphynx (cat) and he's the love of my life, he gets cold so he wears jumpers and hats, and wants to be inside my clothes for warmth and is just an absolute baby, and sleep in my arms/in my hood honestly 24/7. He's like a small person he's so needy.

I can picture Joel getting home and pregnant reader has acquired one from someone, and the cat is her "practice" baby and she dresses him up and absolutely spoils him and carries him everywhere and Joel is just so baffled by what on earth is going on. BUT CANT QUESTION IT BECAUSE READER IS A MEANIE (as she should be) (mother knows best)

🩷🩷🩷

Sphinx cats are so cute oh my gosh!!! She would love him so much, subconsciously because she'd think it's like a little Joel when he would shave and be like "smooth—hairless—baby man" (which is subsequently the last he shaved fully).

Also can't believe youre gonna give such cute imagery but not even show us with a pic ugh devastating but ALAS. Here's how it would go:

- - - -

When Joel comes home, he usually expects one of two things: you're sleeping on the couch with some mixed fruit jelly smeared all over your mouth and between your tits, or you're throwing a plastic cup (because he pre-baby-proofed the house to avoid having any dangerous objects in YOUR grasp) at his head for opening the door the "wrong way" (how does one open a single sided hinged door the wrong way? He's still trying to figure it out).

So when he walks in the front door and hears excited little peeps from you from the bedroom, he's a little weary.

It's not till he's tossing his keys on the counter and hearing you say "you're such a handsome man" that Joel's heart stops.

There's no way. You wouldn't. Not now, not so fucking pregnant with his baby—

Oh fuck. Was it his baby? Or was it this "handsome man" in HIS house with HIS wife, canoodling in HIS bed!??

And how long? How long has this affair been going on under his roof? The entire time you'd be angry at Joel during your pregnancy, maybe you meant it? Maybe you were done with him, seeking something new and exciting?

When Joel finally rounds the corner, just one step away from the doorway, listening to your giddy gasps and rustling clothes, he doesn't know if he can bring himself to find out. Can only imagine a million things he's going to see, all of which are too painful to conceptualize.

He hears your excited giggles, closes his eyes, braces his heart, and walking in.

It takes him a second to register what he's looking at: there's no other man in here, but rather something tucked up in one of his old high school hoodies that you're wearing, backwards, with the hood hanging against your chest.

Then there's something moving in it, and he's almost scared you may have already had the baby and are suffocating it in the hood, though your belly is still very much full, so what—?

"Joel!" You shout, looking petrified as if you're caught in a scheme.

Before Joel can even speak up to ask what's going on, you're pulling what is possibly (from Joel's perspective, mind you) the ugliest pink squirmy ballsack out of his hoodie, complete with a skiny pale rat tail, big marble eyes and pointed ears.

"Meet Ramses!"

He drops his backpack at the door and stares. "What. Is that."

"I literally JUST said his name is Ramses." you scold, kissing the—thing— on the wrinkly folds of its forehead.

It starts purring affectionately, and it clicks.

"That's a CAT?" Joel shouts.

You can feel the poor thing curls up against you with tension at his booming voice.

Joel, please, lower your voice—"

"Where's its fur? No wait, why is it here? How did you get a cat? Who's cat is it? WHY do you have it??"

"Well Deanna next door had a family emergency in Connecticut and they had to fly out this morning, so I agreed we'd watch Ramses until they got back."

"Why is it naked? What did you DO to it?" Fucking hell, Deanna and George are going to have a field day to find you'd shaved their pet literally within 24 hours—

"That's the way it is. Never seen a sphinx cat before?"

Hes not really listening at this point. Joels heart rate had finally caught up with him as he kind of breathes a sigh of relief.

A cat. He thought you were having an affair with a cat.

"Isn't he sooooo cute!!!" You squeal with little jumpy feet.

But it's not cute. Not with the way it's looking at Joel, with its slitted murderous eyes and pointed claws clinging to you while it hisses at him.

"Why is it in my hoodie?"

"He's cold, damnit Joel even YOU noticed he's naked. Poor handsome baby needs all kinds of love, and sweaters, and warmth and—"

The little sucker is just eating it up, as you babble on about getting it jumpers, and baby socks, and cutting all of Joels sweaters up so it can rest on top of your belly, and a spot for it in the bed—

"The BED? NO. No ballsacks in the bed."

"He's SO much cuter than your HAIRY ballsack, Joel, which as far as tonight, can agree to those terms and sleep on the couch." You scoff him and hold Ramses to your chest, scratching his ears and kissing him as you shove past your husband.

Joel doesn't know what to do. Its one thing to agree to feed a cat every so often for a friend while they're out. It's something else entirely to be doing... what you've been doing.

There's a new amazon box in every hour with custom knitted cat sweaters and hats and ear muffs that you've gone off the reservation with just "needing" to keep warm, now full blown getting an outfit for every occasion. He hears you talking to it like a person, using a baby voice to tell him how handsome he looks, "like a wittle baby pharoh". Joel is tripping over all the cans of luxirous cat food youve been "testing" to find his desired taste. The man can't even get cuddles with you anymore because you're so god damn obsessed with swaddling Ramses in your clothes and softest blankets.

And it KNOWS. The damn cat KNOWS you've completely ignored your ever doting and pampering husband for it—while it does NOTHING but absorb your affection. You've craddled it against your every exposed piece of skin from sleeping across your neck to letting it rest atop your bump. Each time Joel tried to hug you, there's a quick hiss at him and low and behold there's the sleeping Ramses all nestled in HIS GODDAMN HOODIES (granted, that he gave you BUT STILL) wedged between your tummy and tits like a sauna, all curled up as youre talking to it like its a—

Oh my god.

"Are you... practicing—for the baby??"

You stop mid bounce of the kitty in your lap, wearing a matching knitted sweater to yours. "What! No! Thats—" but your eyes faulter to the cat who's just been helplessly going along with your toying. "No! Ramses is just a sweet little kitty who has NEEDS. Poor baby boy is so cold, he needs warmth of a —"

"Mother?"

"MAYBE."

Joel goes to sit down but the cat is giving him a less than inviting glare, so he slinks back to the other end of the couch. "Honey. I think you're taking the cat-sitting too far."

"NO Im not!" You cry. You clutch the poor baby close to you defensively. Why are you crying? I mean, you KNOW why--you're worried Joel is going to take your baby away from you—

Ooooooooooooooooooh. Oh fuck.

You stare at the little lump of skin curled up in your lap, with his collar that says "mommy's goodest boy" and realize how much Joel is definitely right...

Not that you'd EVER tell him that.

"No. You're wrong. I'm just being a fantastic neighbor. And you're being a shitty husband and not supporting me."

"That's a little too far—"

"And—" you interject. "Even if it WAS my baby practice. Which it isn't. You aren't being a very supportive father here either."

He sighs in defeat.

Can't argue there.

so when Deanna and George call to let you know they're going to be another week up North, you let them know Ramses is in good hands.

All true. Now that Joel had gained Ramses trust and had maneuvered the little guy in the new baby sling that you two could not figure out for months, you felt pretty confident in Joel's papa skills blossoming.

- - - -

Joel dealing with Preggo Wife masterlist

#joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller fluff #joel dealing with preggo wife

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funemployed-fangirl · 14 days

Text

Modern Bridgerton AU

Benedict & Sophie

Benedict does the “good second son thing” and goes to Yale (where his dad went), gets his MBA, and goes to work at the family company to help his brother. But it’s not really what he wants to be doing. And even though he’s miserable at the company, he sticks with it to support his brother. He starts to develop a painting hobby, though no one in the family knows.

Sophie has a rough background, having been through the not-so-great parts of the foster care system. Once she graduates high school, she works her ass off to put herself through college, mostly working as a nanny for rich New York families. Once she graduates, she gets a job as a live-in nanny for one of those families. It’s not what she wants to be doing, but this is New York City and taking care of rich people’s kids is good money, especially when your other expenses are practically zero.

After a couple years, she runs into Colin Bridgerton in her employer’s building (it happens to be the same building where the Featheringtons live, and Colin is heading in to see his college bestie Penelope while on break), and he invites her to a party that’s happening that night. While at that party, she meets Benedict. They spend the entire night together in a quiet corner of the party, but she ends up leaving abruptly after spotting someone who will know who she is.

A couple of years later, Sophie is now a household manager for a new family. When heading home one night she gets accosted by a couple of drunk frat bros, only for Benedict to step in and help escort her home. They recognize each other from the party two years prior, and perhaps despite better judgement, start seeing each other.

Benedict has never been much of a relationship guy, so keeps insisting/acting like this thing with Sophie is a casual hook-up situation. But casual hook-up situations rarely include midnight rooftop dinners, or private gallery showings, or meeting members of the family (look, the man is clearly head over heels in love, and not being particularly subtle about it). Finally, Sophie puts her foot down and tells him to get his head out of his ass or they're over. Benedict panics, insists he’s only looking for something casual, and they break up.

He makes the mistake of telling his family about the break-up. His mother is devastated. Daphne and Kate are pissed when they find out about the break-up. Hyacinth is inconsolable. Everyone loves Sophie, and they’re not going to let Benedict make a stupid mistake like break-up with the woman he is clearly in love with. It’s at this point Benedict gets a call from Sophie - she’s been arrested, and “I didn’t know who else to call. I need your help.”

Her employers are going through a nasty divorce and can’t afford to keep her on, so they decide to fire her. But in the shuffle, something goes missing from their apartment and Sophie gets arrested for theft. Benedict comes to her rescue, bailing her out of jail and reminding everyone that “My sister-in-law is a lawyer!”. Turns out, whatever was “stolen” has actually just been misplaced in the shuffle of moving the husband’s stuff out of the apartment.

Benedict promptly leaves the family business (though he maintains his seat on the board and almost always shows up for board meetings), and he and Sophie move to some adorable small town in Connecticut, where Benedict takes up painting full-time (turns out he’s pretty good) and Sophie runs a small art gallery. They’re just far enough away from the city that the family doesn’t visit too often (“You’re like 2 hours away. We have to drive!”), but the nieces and nephews LOVE going for long weekends at Aunt Sophie and Uncle Benedict’s house. They have a pool!

more (x)

#bridgerton #modern bridgerton AU #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #benedict x sophie

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hangmansgbaby · 2 years

Text

Always Darling | 0.5 | J.Seresin

T H E E A R L Y Y E A R S

Summary: The prequel to “Always Darling” and the events leading up to the Uranium Mission

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC!Willow "Vixen" Seresin, brief mentions of Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x OC Daughter!Willow "Vixen" Seresin and Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC God Sister!Willow "Vixen" Seresin

Warnings: fluff, its fucking cute in here

Note: the overwhelming love for this series 😍😍 I love you all! THERE WILL BE A PART 3!

Apr 2024 note: I did end up updating this into an OC as I dont write my series as a reader insert anymore.

Word count: 6.1k words (my brain couldn’t stop! I’m sorry for the length!”

Masterlist | Always Darling Masterlist

2001, Boarding School, Connecticut

“Miss Mitchell?”

“Yes, headmistress?”

“My office, please.”

18 year old Willow Mitchell was a staple in the Headmistress’s office since her first day at the all girls boarding school her father had dropped her off at freshman year. The headmistress had taken the 14 year old “troubled student” under her wing the minute the young girl entered campus, even bringing the young girl home for the holidays.

“Miss Mitchell-“

“Please, just Willow. We aren’t strangers.” She laughs.

“Willow, how’s the college search going?” Headmistress Stacy Sutherland questions.

“Fantastic. I got an acceptance to UT Austin, Oklahoma, Oklahoma State, UCLA, USC, and NYU but I’m not going to any of them.” Willow answers.

“Oh? Not going to college?”

“Actually,”Willow pulls a folder out of her backpack and sets it on the desk.

“You’re interested in the Naval Academy?”

“Accepted. Stacy, I got into the Naval Academy!” She smiles brightly.

“That’s amazing! I bet your father is so proud!”

Willow sighs. She hadn’t told her dad, not like he’d pick up the phone anyways. “Yea. I bet.”

“Will he be here for graduation?”

“I don’t know, I sent the invite but-“ she shrugs.

He didn’t show. Willow expected nothing less from the man who up and dropped her off 4 years ago, never coming back. It really surprised her though to see all of her dad’s Top Gun buddies present. Ice, Slider, Wolfman, and Hollywood. She hadn’t noticed their presence until the middle of the Ceremony. With only 40 graduates in her class, it wasn’t long until her name was called

“Miss Willow Mitchell. Valedictorian. United States Naval Academy.” If the sheer magnitude of cheers just for her wasn’t clear enough, the four grown men who jumped from their seats definitely showed Willow that someone out there still cared besides the headmistress.

“Hi!” Willow smiles as Slider runs up to her. He wraps his arms around her, lifting her into a bear hug.

“Hey Uncle Slider.” She laughs as he sets her down.

“Hey little bird.” Only Iceman called her that, claiming she was Maverick’s mini me as a child.

“Hey Uncle Ice.” She gives him a side hug before acknowledging the other two aviators present.

“Where’s your dad?”

“Not here. As per usual.” She sighs. “Can we not talk about how shitty my dad is? I’m thinking lunch and then you guys can take me wherever and then do drop off day at the academy?”

“You don’t wanna see him?”

Willow shakes her head, leading the aviators towards the parking lot. “Y’all coming or what?”

2005, Naval Academy, Maryland

Willow was speed walking through campus, her last class was late releasing so she was already late for her next class. And as if her day couldn’t get any worse she had to literally run into someone, knocking both too the ground and the other person’s coffee all down the front of her.

“Dammit.” Willow mutters, assessing the damage done to her outfit.

“I’m so sorry darlin. You alright?” Willow looks up to the guy she collided with, the voice certainly matching the face and those strikingly green eye- “Darlin?”

“What?” She snaps out of her gaze, looking around to recollect where she was. “Oh, yea. I’m fine. Can’t say the same for my hoodie.” She replies, looking down at the coffee stain.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been watching where I was going. I can get you a new one, or pay for dry cleaning or whatever you need.” He rambles, pulling her up from the ground.

“It’s all good, I’m just gonna head back to my room and change. Apparently I really wasn’t destined to make it to class today.” She chuckles. “Sorry about your coffee.”

“Make it up by going to lunch with me? I know this little place downtown that has really good sandwiches.”

“Sure, I’ll meet you out front of the school in say, 30 minutes?”

“Perfect. I’m Jake by the way.” He juts his hand out. It was only then that Willow truly realized she was making plans with a complete stranger.

“Willow.” She takes his hand, shaking it lightly. They stand there for another few seconds. Willow was completely lost in his eyes, the color so different from the green she grew up looking at. She liked them, definitely ones she could get lost in forever.

Jake cleared his throat, pulling his hand back. “I’ll see you in 30?”

“Y-yea.” She smiles before quickly running off back to her dorm.

“Hey, did class get canceled?” Her roommate, Natasha Trace, questions from her bed.

“Nope.” She answers, stripping her outfit and immediately pulling on another pair of jeans. “I have a date now.”

“Oh? Tell me everything!” Nat slides across her bed to sit on the edge, now interested in what her roommate and best friend had to say.

“When I get back. We’re going to lunch.” Willow walks over to the bathroom, pulling out her make up bag.

“At least tell me who it is!”

“His name is Jake.” Willow chuckles, applying light makeup.

“Blonde, green eyes?”

“Yea, how’d you know?”

“Willow! That’s Jake Seresin! He’s the school playboy!”

“He doesn't seem that bad.” Willow sighs.

“Do you want me to name all the girls he’s slept with? Cause it’s not a pretty number.”

“I’ll be fine Nat. I gotta go. Don’t wait up!” She calls, running out of the room.

“Hey there darlin. Ready to go?” Jake smiles as Willow jogs up to him.

“Yep.” She smiles. He holds his arm out and she loops hers into his. “So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.” He leads her towards a truck parked at the front of the parking lot, opening the passenger door for her.

Jake wasn’t kidding when he said they had the best sandwiches. They had to have spent at least 5 hours at that table, laughing, talking, and just enjoying each other’s company.

“So he just left you at a boarding school?” Jake questions.

“Yea. I haven’t seen him since then.” Willow answers, taking a sip of her coffee.

“You think he’s gonna show up to graduation next month?”

“Unless my uncle has said something, I doubt he knows I’m here. I bet he’ll find out when I’m a better aviator than him.” Willow chuckles.

“I think you’re gonna be a great pilot, but you're gonna have to fight me for top spot though.”

“You’re going for aviation too?” Willow questions. “It’s only ever been me and my roommate! That’s crazy!”

It was over from there. Jake and Willow spent every possible moment together over the next month. After 2 weeks of hanging out, Jake had officially asked Willow to be his girlfriend over dinner at a romantic waterfront restaurant. 2 weeks later graduation had officially arrived.

The ceremony was long and boring, Willow and Jake were eager to hit the road to his hometown where they would spend their month-long leave before they were to report to flight school.

“Ensign Mitchell!” Willow turns to spot Iceman and Slider walking towards her.

“Admiral Kazansky.” She salutes him.

“Congratulations little bird.” He smiles, pulling her into a hug.

“Thank you Uncle Ice.” She smiles into the hug.

“Alright let me in!” Slider pulls Willow away from Ice into his own hug.

“We are so proud of you, Willow!”

“Thank you, Slider.”

Jake clears his throat walking towards the group.

“Hey, Jake! This is Admiral Kazansky and Rear Admiral Kerner. Guys this is my boyfriend, Ensign Jake Seresin.” Willow smiles as Jake shakes hands with her uncles.

“It's a pleasure to meet you both. Willow talks highly of both of you.” Jake greets.

“So what are your plans now that you’re officially out of the Academy?” Ice questions.

“We have a month leave before we both report to flight school so we were planning to go to Texas where his family is.”

“You’re both going into aviation?”

“Yes sir.” Jake answers.

“I look forward to seeing both of you at Top Gun one day then.” Ice smiles, pride beaming in his eyes.

“As much as I love seeing you guys, we gotta get on the road soon. But I’ll see you soon okay?” Willow smiles, grabbing Jake’s hand.

“Of course. Good luck.” Ice nods as Willow and Jake start walking off but he quickly calls out to them. “Ensign Seresin!” Jake turns back to see Ice calling him over. Jake releases Willow’s hand, returning to stand before him. “Willow is like a daughter to me. You take good care of her.”

“Yes sir.” Jake nods before Ice dismisses him, running back over to Willow and leading her to his car.

2005, Seresin Ranch, Texas

“Uncle Jake!” Jake drops to his knee as 2 little twin girls come running towards him, throwing all of their weight into him.

“Hey! Theres my 2 favorite nieces!” He laughs picking both of them up. Willow laughs watching the interaction as she pulls their duffels from the back seat. “Darlin you put those bags down, I’ll come back and get them.” Jake turns to see her lifting both bags to her shoulders.

“I’m capable of carrying our bags, Jake. Besides, it looks like those 2 got your hands full.” Willow walks both of the bags towards the house right behind Jake.

“Maddelyn and Gracelyn! I told you two not to run outside!” An almost perfect copy of Jake runs up to the door, her long blond hair pulled up into a ponytail, bright green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses.

“I got them, Nanc. They’re just excited to see their favorite uncle.” Jake teases, walking past his sister.

“You’re their only uncle, smartass.” His sister turns around to see Willow still standing on the porch, laughing at their sibling banter. “Oh you must be Jake's girlfriend! I’m Nancy, Jake’s older sister. Mama and Daddy are in the kitchen if you wanna come in and say hi.”

Willow nods and follows Nancy through the living room. She drops the bags by the stairs as Nancy directs and follows her through the house.

“Oh Jakey look at you!”

“Jakey?” Willow giggles softly at the nickname.

“Hey only Mama calls me that.” Jake turns to Willow pointing at her as serious as can be..

“Oh you must be Willow! You’re even prettier than Jake described!”

“Hi. It’s lovely to meet you Mrs. Seresin.” Willow smiles, holding out her hand to shake his mothers.

“Oh please! You can call me Mama. Everyone does.” Mama pulls Willow into a hug instead of shaking her hand.

“Mama, we talked about this. Don’t smother the poor girl.” Jake chuckles at Willow’s face, laced with shock of how quickly she was welcomed.

“Oh of course. Why don’t you two head upstairs and get cleaned up for dinner? Maybe even take a nap. I’m sure that drive was horrible.”

“Thanks Mama.” Jake presses a kiss to his mom’s cheek before turning to Willow. “After you darlin.” Willow tried to pick up her duffel when Jake smacked her hand. “I’m carrying these. Upstairs, 3 doors on the left.”

Sighing, Willow walks up ahead of Jake, admiring the hundreds of photos of the Seresin family that line the walls. Opening the door, Willow stares in awe of Jake’s childhood bedroom.

“Welcome to my sanctuary.” Jake laughs, sliding past Willow.

“This is not what I imagined your bedroom would look like.” She walks over to the bookshelf in the far corner, gazing over the books, photographs and awards that littered the shelves.

“What? Expected it to look more like my dorm room?” Jake questions, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Something like that.” Willow moves to stand between his legs, arms wrapping around his neck while Jake’s wrap around her waist. “Your family seems nice.”

“You haven’t even met half of them. Amy and Megan are heading back from college right now and Jess will be here for dinner.”

“4 sisters? No wonder you completely understand all of the shit me and Nat say.” Willow laughs.

“Yea.” Jake smiles. “So… nap?”

“Or maybe, a little fun?” Willow flirts, leaning further into Jake.

“Oh really?” Jake smiles, pulling Willow in for a kiss. “And what kind of fun would you be interested in?”

“Oh you know exactly what I’m interested in.” Willow straddles his waist, pushing Jake backwards on the bed.

“Oh I have a few ideas.” His signature smirk plays on his lips as he pulls her onto the bed, flipping to pin her.

2007, NAS Pensacola, Florida

“Please be sure to let us know if there is any family attending Saturday’s Ceremony.”

Willow sighed, grabbing the paperwork from before her.

“Hey darlin. Ready to go?” Jake meets her outside at their car.

“Yea.” Willow sighs, walking past Jake and immediately climbing in.

“Are you okay?” Jake questions, starting up the car.

“Yea, long day.” Willow sighs, leaning back in the passenger seat.

The drive to their off base home was silent, Jake already knew what was up. The pinning ceremony is a big deal. After they receive their wings, they’ll choose their specialty aircrafts and before long, they’re in the running for a Top Gun session. Jake’s family was already packing to head down for his pinning ceremony and he knew Iceman and Slider weren't able to make it for Willow. So with her father not in her life anymore and her uncles unavailable. That left their Captain to pin her while everyone else had family to do it.

As soon as they pulled up, Willow immediately went inside and jumped in the shower. Jake sighed watching the retreating figure of his girlfriend. Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed Ice’s number hoping to get through to him.

“Kazansky residence.” The female voice rang through.

“Hey, it's Jake. Is Iceman around?”

“Mom! Willow’s boyfriend is calling for Dad!” Jake chuckles at Ice’s daughter’s unwillingness to talk on the phone.

“Give me that.” Sarah says, most likely pulling the phone from her daughter. “Hey Jake, sorry Tom is on a carrier, left yesterday. Something I can do for you?”

“It’s alright Mrs. Kazansky. Ice said he might be able to clear his schedule for this weekend. Just wanted to check in with him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You and Willow are getting your wings this weekend huh?”

“Yes ma’am. Willow’s feeling a little down cause my family will be there to pin me and she doesn’t have anyone. Was just hoping something would come through at the last minute.” Jake sighs.

“I’m sorry honey. You know I’d be there in a heartbeat if the kids didn't have school.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for letting me know Mrs. Kazansky.”

“Of course dear. I’ll see you both at Thanksgiving alright?”

“Yes ma’am.” Jake ends the call as soon as he hears the shower shut off. He immediately runs to the room, stripping down to his boxers and jumping on the bed before Willow comes out in shorts and a t-shirt.”Well hello beautiful.” Jake’s signature smirk plays out on his face, eyes following Willow as she walks around to her side of the bed. “Darlin?” Willow doesn’t say a word, only laying down and turning off the lamp by her. “Willow, I know you’re upset over the pinning ceremony. If you want, I’m sure my mom will gladly pin you.”

“Just forget it Jake. I’m fine with the Captain pinning me.” Willow sighs, still facing away from Jake. “I’m going to bed.”

Jake sighs, facing the back of her head. “I’m sorry, Willow. I wish I could do something about this.” Willow sighed before rolling over.

“It’s not your fault my only family is an asshole. Or that my uncles have responsibilities to the Navy.” She places a hand on his cheek. “It’s always going to suck and there’s nothing we can do. No matter who pins me, so long as I get pinned I could care less.” Willow smiles softly as she looks into Jake’s eyes. “You have such a big heart, Jake. And I appreciated you wanting to make this special for me.”

“I love you.”

“What?” Willow sits up, eyes still never leaving Jake’s. In the 2 years they had been together, neither one had ever said those 3 words, choosing to go slow in their relationship, despite already living together.

“I… I love you, Willow.” Jake says, sitting up with her. “I have since that day we ran into each other.”

“I-I…” Willow stutters, still in shock from Jake saying it.

“You don’t have to say it back, darlin. But I will always love you.”

“I love you too.” Willow smiles, Jake’s eyes light up. “I love you so much!” She shouts, tackling Jake to the bed.

2011, NAS North Island, California

“Hey Vixen! You coming out with us?”

“I don’t know guys. We have a big day tomorrow.” Willow sighs.

“Come on! You never go out with us anymore.” One of the other girls chimed in.

“That’s because you all go out to get laid and I get left alone at the bar.” Willow points out, sitting down on the couch in the pilot lounge.

“So then we will find you a guy to go home with before we ever try for hours.”

Willow is about to protest when another voice interrupts. “I don’t know about you but I’m pretty sure her boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“Jake!” Willow jumps up, pushing past her fellow pilots and WSOs to reach her boyfriend who stands in the doorway. “What are you doing here!?” She questions, wrapping herself around her boyfriend.

“Can’t surprise my best girl?” Jake mutters into the crook of her neck, holding her tightly.

The couple had seen each other a total of 6 months in the last 3 years because of deployments and detachments. When Willow got the call from Top Gun, she immediately called Jake to share news. Though her excitement faded when she found out that not only had Jake not gotten called as well, but he was shipping out 2 days before she was to arrive in California for the Indian Ocean.

“I will always take a surprise but you weren’t supposed to be back until after my session. What happened? Is everything okay?” Willow pulls back immediately, worry lacing her voice.

“Everything is okay, we finished the mission early so they sent us home. Not happy to see me?”

“Of course I’m happy to see you.” Willow smiles, kissing her boyfriend of 5 years.

“Plus, I would never miss my gorgeous girlfriend graduating top of her class at Top Gun.”

“I'm not gonna be top of the class.” Willow laughs as Jake leads her away from the other pilots.

“Bullshit! I know you hate it but Darlin you are Pete Mitchell’s daughter. It’s in your genetics. And you’ve had Iceman coaching you the whole way. You’ll be top of the class. I know it.”

And Jake certainly was right, and a year later, Jake was top of his class. Ice looked on proudly as Willow and Jake took pictures with the Top Gun trophy at Jake’s graduation. The bright smile on Willow’s face as Jake held her close, pressing random kisses to her cheek as Phoenix and Coyote took pictures of them, made Iceman smile to himself. He always wanted Willow to find her own family after everything and she did.

“Congratulations Lieutenant Seresin.” Ice smiles, walking up to the group.

“Thank you Admiral Kazansky.”

“I’m hosting a celebratory dinner at my house. Phoenix, Coyote, you are both welcome to join us.”

“We’d be honored sir.” Phoenix nods. “I’ll send these to you, Vix. I got a couple errands to run.” Phoenix gives Willow a quick hug. “Congrats again, Hangman.”

“Thanks Phoenix.” Jake nods. “I have a surprise for you.” Jake whispers to Willow. “Wanna sneak out of here?”

“Hell yeah. Lead the way.” Willow smiles.

Jake pulls up to a secluded part of the beach, quickly climbing out and running around to Willow’s door and opening it for her. “Darlin.” Jake bows, holding a hand out for Willow. She laughs as she lets him guide her away from the truck.

“The beach? Jake, I’ve been to the beach before.” Willow laughs.

“Oh trust me. I know darlin.” Jake winks. “No, that's not your surprise.” Jake lead’s Willow across the sand towards the waterfront. “Willow, darlin, you know I love you, right.”

“Of course. You know I love you?”

“Always Darlin.” Jake smiles. “I want to promise you something.” Jake says, pulling a small box out of his pocket.

“Jake-“ Willow tries to stop him but Jake quickly cuts her off.

“It’s not a proposal darlin. I know you aren’t ready for it.”

“It's not that I’m not ready. We're just getting started in our careers.”

“I know, Darlin. Which is why this is a promise ring.” Jake opens the box to show the dainty ring. The helix design completes the circle. “A promise that you are it for me. That one day and we are both good and ready. I will trade this out for an engagement ring and I’ll marry you and only you.”

“Jake-“ Willow smiles, tears in her eyes as she stares at the ring. Jake slowly slips the ring onto her ring finger, kissing on top of it as it settles.

“I love you, Willow.”

“I love you too, Jake.”

“I have some not so good news though.” Jake says, fiddling with the ring.

“What?”

“I got pulled onto a mission. We leave tomorrow and won't be back for 6 months.”

“Oh.” Willow looks towards her hand as Jake continues to fiddle with the ring. “It’s a dangerous one isn’t it?” She questions, still not meeting his eyes.

“Yea, darlin. It’s not the safest.” Jake lifts her chin to look her in the eyes. “But I promise, I will do everything to come home to you.”

“You better. Cause if this,” she holds up her hand, “don't get upgraded one day, I’m gonna hurt you.” Willow laughs as Jake starts laughing with her.

“I will always come home to you.”

2012, USS Rosevelt, Atlantic Ocean

Jake had yet to meet his bunkmate since arriving on the carrier. His biggest hope was that it wasn’t someone who would constantly bring a lover in every night but he also just wanted someone bearable for the next half a year.

“Hey man, it’s good to meet you.”

Jake turns from his desk and his blood runs cold. He recognizes the pictures from Ice’s house. He is staring into the same eyes that were pictured next to Willow for years. “Yea, Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Callsign Hangman.” Jake nods, shaking the outstretched hand of the man before him.

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. Rooster.”

The next 6 months was going to be nothing but torture to Jake. In an attempt to keep the peace, he never let Rooster see the photos of Willow, nor did he talk about her around him. He also never mentioned his bunkmate when he got the opportunity to call Willow. But that didn’t stop either of them from questioning Jake about the other.

“So do you like your bunkmate?” Willow questions, her laptop set up on the desk before her.

“He’s not bad. Little annoying, terribly slow flier.”

Willow chuckles at his complaint. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, darlin. 4 more months.”

“4 more months.” She sighs. “Can you give me any updates on the mission?”

“You know I can’t. But I can tell you that it’s gonna be awhile before we can talk again.”

“Oh-“

“Hey Hangman! We’re going to Target’s room for a couple of beers, you comin?”

“Is that Bradley?” Willow questions.

“Uh, not tonight Rooster. I’m on a call.” Jake shouts back.

“Oh is it the mysterious Vixen?” Bradley’s face pops up onto the screen and Willow hides her face.

“Jake I gotta go.”

“Okay Darlin. I love-“ the call ended before he could say anything.

“Damn, you must’ve really pissed her off.”

“Yea, that wasn’t me.” Jake sighs, closing the laptop and making his way towards his room.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rooster questions, following him.

“It’s not my place, Rooster.”

“Not your place? Who the fuck is your girlfriend man?”

“You know her a lot better than you think.” Jake mumbles, grabbing his shower gear from the bottom of the closet.

“Willow? Little Willow? You’re dating my little sister?”

“God sister. And I seem to remember you haven’t talked to her since ‘97.” Jake nearly growls at Bradley. “So don’t act all high and mighty. She doesn’t claim you so don’t claim her.”

“Lieutenants. Suit up, we’re heading out.”

“The mission’s not for another week.” Bradley protests.

“Change of plans.”

2012, NAS North Island, California

Willow groans leaning against the chair of the office. She sits in the silence of her office before Ice enters.

“Hey little bird. Everything alright?”

“Yea, I just haven’t heard anything from Jake.” She pauses. “You know Bradley’s there.” Willow sighs, her hand coming up to rub her face.

“I do.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“You said you didn’t give two shits about what Bradley and your father were doing. I was just doing what you asked.” Ice retorts.

Suddenly Willow’s phone rings, she stands moving across her office as she answers. “Hello?” She immediately met with the constant rambling from the other side. “Woah, slow down. Nancy, what happened?” She questions, walking around her rooms again.

“Mama just got a call from a restricted number and now she won’t stop crying!”

“Shit, gimme a second.” Willow mutes herself and sets the phone down on her desk.“What happened?” She questions Ice.

“What do you mean?”

“Nancy.” Willow points to her phone. “Jake’s mom won’t stop crying after getting a call from a restricted number. What happened to Jake?”

“He’s MIA, Willow. I’m sorry.”

“No.” Willow gasps. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening.” Willow drops into the chair beside her.

“Willow, I’m so sorry.” Ice moves around the desk to pull Willow into a hug.

“They gotta find him.” She cries. “They need to find him.”

“On my orders, they aren’t going to stop looking for him.” Ice comforts.

“Please, dad. I don’t wanna lose him.” Ice froze. He’d always considered Willow like a daughter but she had never called him dad before.

“I promise little bird. They’re gonna find him.”

“Willow?! What’s going on?”

“Shit. Nancy.” Willow scrambles over to her phone. She quickly wipes her tears and takes a deep breath. “Hey, uhm, Jake’s MIA.”

“Holy shit. Are they looking for him?”

“Yea. Yea it’s a non-stop search right now. I'll transfer any updates to me and I’ll let you know. So that way Mama doesn’t have to go through it over and over.”

“Okay. Keep me posted. I’m gonna get Mama to bed. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yea, Talk later.”

“Hey, Willow?”

“Yea?”

“Take care of yourself. It’s not just you anymore.”

“Of course.” Willow ends the call, tossing her phone back onto the desk, she leans back into Ice’s hold, the tears returning.

“It’s okay, let it out.” Ice mutters, holding Willow close.

“I’m pregnant.” Willow cries.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant, dad. I can’t lose him. We can’t lose him.” She rests a hand on her stomach. She had just found out about two weeks ago, 6 weeks after Jake had left. She didn’t have the will to tell Jake, while he was gone.

2013, USS Rosevelt, Atlantic Ocean

3 months. It had been 3 months since Jake disappeared and despite every rule in the Navy, Willow was pacing Ice’s office on the carrier, 21 weeks pregnant. As soon as word came in that they might’ve found him, Ice immediately took off to the carrier and despite his protests Willow was right behind him.

“What do we have on his location?” Ice questions.

“They raided an enemy bunker. There’s signs that he was there recently. He can’t be far but they’re still looking.”

“Keep looking. Do not stop until there is physical proof he’s dead.”

“Yes sir.” Ice dismisses the Commander and turns to Willow.

“Sit d-“

“Don’t.”

“Willow, stressing is not good for the baby.” He sighs.

“Jake being dead isn't good for the baby. Or me.” Willow snaps back.

“He’s not dead.”

“It's been 3 months!”

“And there is no proof he’s gone.”

“But there’s no proof he’s alive.” Willow sighs, her pacing continuing.

“Willow, I am already allowing you to break rules. Sit down, please.”

“Fine, only if you take it easy too.” Willow protests.

“I’m fine, Willow.”

Willow shoots him a knowing look. “You’re missing treatments for this.”

“Willow, I’m fine, trust me.” Suddenly a Lieutenant barges into the office.

“Admiral Kazansky, Lieutenant Mitchell. We found him.”

“Jake!” Willow runs up to the stretcher as they wheeled him away from the helicopter.

“Ma’am we need you to step back.”

“She’s his next of kin. She goes with him.” Ice shouts, following behind them.

“Oh god baby. Oh my god.”

“He’s malnourished and dehydrated but other than that he’s going to be just fine, physically.” One of the medics rattle off.

“Physically?” Willow questions.

“He’s been through hell and back, Lieutenant. There’s no telling what that did to him mentally.”

“Oh god, Jake.”

Willow sat up from the makeshift bed she had made on the chair in the hospital room. She was already majorly uncomfortable because of the pregnancy but the chair was definitely not helping. 3 days in the chair definitely didn’t help her back either.

“Lieutenant Mitchell?”

“Yes?” She turns to spot the doctor in the doorway.

“How are you this afternoon?”

“As well as I can be.”

“You know we can still move a cot in here, we’d much prefer it, including Admiral Kazansky.” The doctor insists as she checks Jake’s vitals.

“I’m alright. How is he?” She asks, stepping up to the bedside, reaching to hold Jake’s hand.

“Better. We started weaning him off the medication keeping him under last night. He should be waking up soon. If he does wake, let us know if there is anything wrong. Otherwise a nurse will come in on her rounds.”

“Thank you.” She turns back to Jake, who for once in the last 3 days looked peaceful. She sighs, reaching up to brush loose hair back.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize anyone would be in here.” Willow turns and quickly turns back around, electing to not saying anything to the figure that just walked in. “How are you?”

“You’ll have to go, only one person is allowed in here.” She responds.

“Willow…”

“Leave me alone.”

“Come on, we haven’t seen each other in years. Why don't we go up to the mess hall? Catch up.” Bradley continues, walking further into the room.

“I said leave me alone, Lieutenant Bradshaw. Or do I need to call an Admiral?” Willow seeths, still not turning towards the door.

“Fine. Don't say I never tried.” She rolls her eyes as she hears the door close behind him. Sighing, she turns away from to bed to pour herself a glass of water when she suddenly hears a groan. She quickly turns to see Jake trying to sit up. “Hey, hey, hey. It's okay, don’t get up.”

“What? Willow?” Jake questions, voice hoarse from the lack of use.

“Hi baby. It's me.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.” He cries, pulling Willow into a tight hug, or as tight as his weakened body could muster.

“Neither did we.” She says softly, holding Jake close.

“We?” He pulls back for the hug, looking for a correction but only gets a worried smile.

“We.” She softly moves his hand to rest on her small bump.

“Holy shit.” Jake says, barely above a whisper, eyes wide. “I’m gonna be a dad?”

“Yea, yea Jake.”

“Oh my god!” He pulls her back into a hug, practically dragging her on top of him. “Holy shit! We're gonna be parents.”

2013, NAS North Island, California

“So you’re telling me, you have no idea the gender nor what you’re going to name them?” Phoenix asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“We’ve been so busy, between paperwork and Jake’s test flights, it's been a nightmare to have a calm moment between us.

“Vixen! You’re due any day now!”

“I have ideas! Just nothing settled.”

“Let me hear them.”

“For a boy, Beau.”

“Absolutely not, you wanna name your child after Rear Admiral Simpson?”

“Oh I knew there was no way I truly liked that name. How about Easton?”

“Could be good, Easton Seresin…” Phoenix trails off.

“Nevermind I hate it. Tyler? Tyler Seresin.”

“I think that sounds perfect, darlin.” Jake’s voice comes from the now open front door.

“Hey! How was work?” Willow struggles to stand for the couch but manages, walking over to greet him at the door.

“You know exactly how work was.” He sighs, kissing her gently before heading to the master of their on base house. “Hey Phoenix.”

“Hey Bagman.” Phoenix says. “How about a girl?”

“Only one on my list. Ellorie.”

“That is beautiful. I love it.” Phoenix smiles.

“It is uh?” Willow beams to herself as she walks into the kitchen. “I honestly hope it’s a gi-“

“Willow? You okay?”

“Oh!”

“Willow?” Phoenix jumps up and runs into the kitchen to see Willow standing over a puddle.

“Oh my god.”

“What is it? Is everything okay?”

“Get. Jake. Now.” She says between breaths.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Phoenix curses. “Bagman!”

“What?”

“It’s time!”

“What do you mean it’s time?!”

“Jacob Grant if you don’t get out here right now and get me in the car I am having this baby without you!” Willow shouts as another contraction rolls through.

“I’m coming!” Jake barrels through the hallway, their hospital bag slung over his shoulders. He immediately guides Willow out to his truck, helping her up into the seat while Phoenix drops their bag into the backseat.

“Be safe! Call me when they’re here!” Phoenix shouts as Jake pulls out of the driveway.

“Okay just hold on, darlin.” Jake repeats as Willow grips tightly to the armrest, another contraction ripping through her. “It’s okay Darlin.”

“Stop, you’re not helping.” Willow groans in pain.

“I’m trying to help, but I don’t know what to do.” Jake says, rubbing circles into her hand.

“You can not tell me it’s okay when I’m about to push a baby that most definitely got your big head out of my vagina!” Willow shouts.

“Hey, you like my big head. And we’re going to love theirs. Almost there.”

10 excruciating hours later and Jake and Willow sat in the comfort of their hospital room with their bundle of joy wrapped in their arms.

“Knock knock.”

“Hey! Ice!”

“There’s my two favorite pilots.”

“Hey dad.” Willow smiles. “You wanna meet your honorary granddaughter?”

“It’s a girl?” Ice gasps, walking over to the bedside.

“Ellorie Serena Seresin.” Jake smiles as Ice takes Ellorie from Willow.

“She’s beautiful, Willow. Looks just like you.” Sarah smiles, pulling Willow into a hug.

“I think she looks more like Jake.” Willow laughs.

“Absolutely not, darlin. She definitely looks more like you.” Jake presses a kiss to her head as Ice and Sarah coo over the baby. “You did good, mama.”

“Mama? No more darlin no that the baby is here?” Willow questions.

“Absolutely not. You will always be my darlin but you're also mama now.” Jake’s smiles. “You know I love you?”

“Absolutely. You know I love you too?”

“Always Darlin.”

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pineapple-coffee-writes · 9 months

Note

hello :) i have a suggestion for a dps- house md crossover fic in which wilson is neil’s uncle (married to/living with house) and neil’s dad is jealous of him because wilson got into med school and he didn’t so he’s projecting his hate for wilson on neil. but neil meets this uncle and he helps neil realize a bunch of things, including that it’s ok to not want to be a doctor and that maybe that roommate of his isn’t just looking at him with friendship in his eyes.

idk if you’ll write this but i can’t find the time and i’d love to see someone do it :)

I’d LOVE to elaborate on this in a proper AO3 fanfic in a future, so for now, I’ll give some headcanons! I hope that this satisfies your request :) @connecticut-georg-writes

To say that Mr. Perry’s expectations for Neil were strict was an understatement. Med school, straight As, well-paying job—it was all extremely overwhelming.

But there was a bright spot in Neil’s family tree: his uncle, James Wilson. Or, simply, Wilson.

Wilson was a bright ray of hope, both for Neil and for Mr. Perry. Mr. Perry saw Wilson’s accomplished career and impeccable academic record and wanted that life for his son. But Neil saw the other side of Wilson, the side of kindness and gentleness. Wilson didn’t demand anything of Neil; he always treated Neil to a warm cup of tea and a welcoming smile.

But Mr. Perry’s support for Wilson was lost the moment the Perry family received Wilson’s wedding invitation. And there was another man’s name next to Wilson’s.

Neil knew who Greg House was. He was Wilson’s roommate, though Neil was privy to more information than his father was. Neil knew that Dr. House was closer to Wilson than they let on.

Mr. Perry declared that they wouldn’t attend the wedding. Neil’s heart shattered into thousands of fragile pieces.

Neil didn’t see Wilson again until a distressing day: his 19th birthday.

Neil had run away from his house in Vermont, his family, and his financial stability. With enough cash in his pocket to pay for a bus to New Jersey, Neil had set off into the night, determined to find Wilson and House.

Wilson wishes he could say he was surprised to see Neil on his doorstep, begging to stay with him, but Wilson knew how his brother was. He had prepared for the day that Neil was able to run to somewhere safer and more loving.

Nobody slept that night. Neil cried in Wilson’s arms, telling the tragic tale of how his father had found him and Todd kissing in Neil’s room. He offered an ultimatum: cease all contact with Todd and go to military school or leave with no supplies. Neil chose to leave.

Wilson and House couldn’t offer much with their small apartment, but they told Neil he was welcome to stay as long as he needed. Neil was more than happy to take a couch bed.

Wilson didn’t even second guess himself when Neil asked if Todd could come and stay too.

It would be a crowded apartment, and a landlord’s nightmare, but Wilson would do anything for his nephew.

Even if it meant housing his boyfriend as well.

#anderperry #dead poets society #house md #hilson #my fanfiction #asks #requests

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redfish-blu · 2 months

Text

Historically accurate (enough) Ben Tallmadge be upon ye.

Explanation and history spiel under the cut <3

TURN did better than most period pieces with costuming so I didn’t really have to change that much (flowers for Donna Zakowska), but my own historical costuming brain was like But What If I Did?? Now I obviously took some liberties here for the sake of clarity and The Rule of Cool, but I’ll explain them when we cross the bridge. I’m also not a historical fashion expert. My end goal for this was to integrate real life concepts into the stylized depictions of the TV show.

Until around 1780, the Continental Army was notably impoverished, and had no standard uniform (and arguably it never would). Soldiers and militiamen simply wore their civilian clothes, and high-ranking officers wore repurposed uniforms from other conflicts if they had them. But for the most part, it was hard to distinguish the average private from a commissioned service member. To differentiate ranks, color-coded sashes and cockades were worn around the body and pinned to the hat. These would indicate to everyone who held which title with no uniform to go off of.

Season 1 Costume:

Some background: 1776 is widely agreed upon as the terrible horrible no good very bad year for the continental army. They were beat down and penniless. If the Americans were to ever loose the AWI, 1776 would have been the year it happened. Washington was pulling the army up by their threadbare bootstraps. The monumental loss of New York to the Brits and subsequent fleeing of the continental army to Connecticut was the main sore spot here, and in that chaos is where TURN season 1 starts.

Ben Tallmadge in TURN is a major and and Aid De Camp (he might not be officially named as an ADC but for all intents and purposes he replaced Hamilton for like 2 whole seasons so I gave him the title anyways). Prior to Washington begging congress to order uniforms in 1780, Ben would have been frolicking around in his plain clothes for the majority of the war. Men’s plain clothes of this era included the linen shirt, waistcoat, cravat, coat, breeches, stockings, buckled shoes, and a hat.

The reason cockades were chosen to denote rank is because wearing a hat in public was actually considered common decency. It was improper (or at the very least lacking manners) to not wear one out. Every man would be wearing a hat, thus they would always have their chosen cockade on display. Ben wears a red one, which signals that he is a major. In the show the hat custom is forgone in favor of actually being able to see the actors’ faces (and their amazing hair), which is totally understandable. I’ve restored Ben’s hat in my design, though.

Another thing I have added is a pair of spatterdashes, which are cloth sock things that buckle over one’s shoes and shins to keep the mud and gunk from ruining the stockings and soaking down into your shoes. Ben spends most of his time outside, and has no issued pair of boots (which weren’t really the most efficient or comfortable form of footwear at the time anyways) on account of the No Money thing, so he wears his spatterdashes to make his poor buckled shoes last longer.

In reality, Ben would have been wearing this utterly dazzling outfit until the end of season 3. However, I’ve decided to suspend the historical record and let him have a Season 2 glow-up into the blue-coated major we all know and love.

Season 2 Costume:

So after 1780 (or I guess 1777 in this case), Congress decided to fund Washington’s request for regimental uniforms across the continental army. Not everyone was wearing a blue and white coat, but Ben Tallmadge was. Turn’s portrayal of the iconic garment has the top of the coat unbuttoned to make it look less goofy, which I’ve kept here because I agree with the change. His coat is also fairly loose-fitting, which is another thing I kept because it gives the boyish yet elegant look befitting of an inexperienced yet determined continental major. Tallmadge would have only been nineteen/twenty years old at this time (the average age in the American army was sixteen), so highlighting his youth was a good decision on TURN’s part.

Buff/white (more like off-white) waistcoats and breeches were another standard item worn by all soldiers and ranking officers (circumstances permitting).

The green sash indicates his Aid De Camp status, which I didn’t include in the S1 look because it would have looked extremely strange. These may have been out of fashion by the time uniforms were introduced, but we see Washington wearing his own blue sash throughout the entire series, and Ben is the king of idolizing that man (and boasting that Washington considers him important), so I have him wearing it.

His red cockade is gone, instead the gold insignias mounted on his shoulders (these were introduced by John Hancock in 1779) tell his rank as a major. In place of a red cockade is a black and white one, which became the standard throughout all the ranks. He could have worn a cockade designed specifically for majors and ADC’s, but I haven’t seen any evidence of these being used save for hearsay and they elevate the look from foppish to full on decorative ice cream, so I excluded them.

Now down to the boots. I swiped these directly off of George Washington’s uniform, which they have displayed at the Smithsonian. It’s more likely Ben would have still been wearing that trusty spatterdashes+buckled shoes combo (this was the standard of the British forces at the time), but to honor The Rule of Cool I let him have those genre defining boots. He does see more combat on horseback as the series progresses, so the boots aren’t entirely inappropriate.

Conclusion:

Despite my obvious passion for this topic, I understand why TURN made the costuming choices it did. Having the continental army just be a group of Random Guys would have been confusing to the average viewer who does not know all this trivial nonsense. And to their credit, TURN actually did dress the nameless extras pretty appropriately throughout the whole series. I just think that showing the continentals in their true “rag-tag volunteer army in need of a shower” form, then have them progress visually throughout the show would have been a brave and effective storytelling choice. It would have been a bit ahead of its time, but now that it’s been ten years I don’t think the creators would care about me dogging on them.

#turn washington's spies #ben tallmadge #benjamin tallmadge #turn amc #amc turn #amc turn fanart #turn amc fanart #turn washington’s spies fanart #history #historical costuming

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scorchedthesnake · 3 months

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March 7, 2011

I moved to New York City in August 2010. My life before New York was something I’d grown completely unsatisfied with: I had moved to Connecticut for graduate school in 2001, had weathered two recessions in the relative security of academe but could see the writing on the wall for the doom of that profession and so had, via my teaching assistants union, begun to work for our international union as a communications staffer. This had given me a way out of Connecticut, though escaping the cultish environment of the union would still take a few more years.

The person I was back then was very unlike the person I am now. I wasn’t very much fun those first nine months in the city because I was just so afraid of everything. Bars scared me; too many strangers. Clubs scared me; too dark and too many unknowns and unpredictable scenarios. I was happy to be in a new place but petrified by what that freedom actually meant, and I had yet to find any place to belong or feel at home in.

I worked on 7th Avenue back then, around 27th Street. I remember sitting in my dreary cubicle that Monday, when I got a message from my best friend Matt, asking me if I wanted to go to a show that evening. No, I said, I really just want to go home and hide from the world. It’s the show John (O’Malley) is working on, he said, and he got us comps. Well what kind of show is it, I asked? “We’re gonna, like, chase sexy dancers around a warehouse.” Oh god that sounds so stupid, do I have to? “Just come with me, if you hate it you can leave.”

So around 7pm I walked over to 10th Avenue and the block was so dumpy back then – junkyards, warehouses, not much else. I saw a small line of people gathered at the address I’d been given, so I approached and was handed this card:

I don’t remember anything about checking in or what it was like seeing Manderley for the first time, though I do remember Maximilian being there, giving a short speech and then we were taken to the elevator. I remember getting off the elevator on 3, and taking far too long to explore an empty Macbeths bedroom before, I suppose, figuring out I should investigate the other floors.

I’ve told this story often, though: at some point I came across an extremely attractive man moving quickly, so I did what it seemed like many others were doing: I followed him. We were in the 2nd loop by now, and I had realized it was a loop; but my target soon was running down High Streeet and through a darkened door and it slammed in my face and, to my surprise, was locked.

Oh, there are secret things all over here, aren’t there?

So I picked up his trail again as soon as I could, and stuck as close as I could. Including when we stumbled down all the flights of stairs and I wondered, should I call for help? Is the performer injured? But I stuck to him like glue and when he again approached that darkened door I was close enough to get inside.

And so the highlight of my first show was seeing Luke Murphy in interrogation.

After the finale I reconnected with Matt. We had, of course, seen completely different shows. As we exited we saw John. “Did you get any one on ones,” he asked? One on whats? “Well, I had one where the man in the lobby took me into a room and started putting on makeup.”

No we hadn’t seen anything like that. We immediately set about buying tickets for later in the six-week run. And we wandered the streets for a couple hours after that, comparing notes, feverishly reconstructing what we had just experienced.

Obviously I did not sleep that night.

So much of the time you don’t know when everything has changed. You realize it long after the fact and in retrospect. Not this, this I knew was a fundamental shift. I’d never felt my senses at full alert like that, my mind racing trying to make sense of something so visceral. The music rang in my ears for hours, days later, and I knew when I came back, I’d need a plan.

#sleep no more #sleepnomore #mckittrick hotel #sleepnomorenyc #sleep no more nyc #punchdrunk #mckittrick

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doomandgloomfromthetomb · 3 months

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Patti Smith Group / John Cale / Television - The Palladium, New York City, December 31, 1976

I finally got around to Sonic Life, Thurston Moore's recent memoir, this month! You can read a few of my quick thoughts about it (along with some other nice recommendations) in the latest edition of the Aquarium Drunkard Book Club. As I mention, I was a little surprised at how much I enjoyed Thurston's memories of his teenage years, way before Sonic Youth was even a twinkle in his eye — A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Fan? From the suburbs of Connecticut, Moore made countless trips into NYC to soak in the punk/CBGB/Max's worlds, catching shows by The Ramones, Suicide, the Dead Boys, Sid Vicious ... and Patti Smith, of course.

Thurston paints an evocative portrait of this New Year's Eve blowout, which doubled as Patti's raucous 30th birthday party. He was dangerously high on mescaline.

"We zombied our way down the street to the Palladium and found our seats, and I sat in a state of tenuous control as Television arrived onstage. I figured if I just maintained my cool, the mescaline's threat of wiping out my sanity would begin to subside and all would be okay. 'A song by Dylan' — were the only words I remember Tom Verlaine saying to the audience as the band began to play a plaintive cover of 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door.' By the time John Cale and his group came onstage, I felt as though I were sliding slowly down the side of a porcelain sink, managing only the barest of friction, my reality threatening to fall into a drain hole never to return. I was gripped by the fear of losing myself completely, another entry on the list of acid casualties. I concentrated on specific thoughts, pinpricks of salvation that I'd cling to, slip from, then hold on to again. I feared that if I closed my eyes, I would be forever vanquished."

Happy new year?! All these decades later we can enjoy the Palladium gig via dusty audience tapes — your call if you want to drop a tab of mescaline while you listen. Interesting to hear Television at this point, with Marquee Moon more or less in the can, playing a much larger venue than ever before. They'd just finished several nights in a row at CB's — which is maybe that's why they sound a littttttle bit tired. But there's plenty of sweet stuff, of course, including a truly go-for-broke "Kingdom Come." Billy Ficca, baby! Cale, meanwhile, happily provides a bad trip soundtrack for Thurston's bad trip — a short but powerful set highlighted by a maniacal "Guts" and an even more maniacal "Fear Is A Man's Best Friend." That guy sure could scream.

And what about the belle of the ball — Patti herself? Let's hand it back to Thurston, who had recovered a bit by the start of her set. Here, he describes the all-star finale with Fred "Sonic" Smith joining the melee.

"Fred and Patti had become an item. Now here was Fred onstage, unassuming and spectral, as Patti howled and whirled. With 'My Generation' culminating in obligatory destruction, all players would eventually leave the stage except for the two Smiths. Like Fred, Patti had a Fender Duo-Sonic strapped on, and she leaned her head on her sweetheart's shoulder as both their guitars emitted a whistling-bird noise of feedback through the amps. How this translated to everyone around me, I couldn't say. For me, it was an emblematic vision of all I would ever desire from rock 'n' roll — transcendence, devotion, sonic love."

#patti smith #television #john cale #thurston moore

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stawpny · 2 months

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guys I’ll update the states and their songs thing soon I promise I’ve js had a lot of issues recently 😭

but anyways, hcs no one asked for!!

—

-Connecticut wears old man glasses and so does Mass but he’s only partly an old man because he can still see.

- NYC is js mini Florida. Both equally insane. If they ever meet, so help us god.

- York hates dogs. He won’t like push them away though if they jump on him, he’ll just pet it awkwardly as it jumps and claws at him. But, most dogs don’t like him anyway since he’s literally a cat.

NY’s cities real names: NYC: Nicholas (Nicky), Albany: Abby or Ally, LI: Liam, sometimes also Lee, honestly has no clue what his actual name is, Syracuse: Sarah, Rochester: Rocky (didn’t want a real name), Buffalo: seems like a guy named Benny, Niagara Falls: Niagara.

- New York listens to Hozier, cannot tell me different.

- doodles kitties all over his and others papers while in meetings. He does it especially when they are important documents that Gov especially told him not to draw on. “Fuck you, government! I can do whatever I want!”

- his hair originally was a lighter brown under the Dutch, then a dirty blonde under the British, and then as the years went on, his hair turned to dark brown bc of all of the Italians pin-straight black hair. idk it’s js a random thing I thought could happen as he jumped from country to country.

- Nevada forces Cal and York to go shopping with him and york always ends up carrying the bags.

—

ik this wasn’t a lot but I’ve been busy 😭

I’m so glad it’s break for me

but I hope u liked these

ily guys!

#wttt #wttsh #welcome to the statehouse #wttt new york #wttsh new york #wttsh headcanons #wttt headcanons

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stargazedwinchester · 3 months

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Telephone | Sam Winchester #01

I actually wrote this 4 (yes 4) years ago, but I've been thinking about redoing it a little bit and republishing it, hopefully its a little better and everyone enjoys it!

I also have this on Wattpad, link here

Part 2 here

Your local library was quiet, yet soft, mumbled words came from all directions at any given time. It was a good quiet, though. So comfortable and calming. You browsed the fiction area looking for information on witches, their spells and origin. Your parents were outlining a mammoth-sized hunt at a rather large cabin in the deep forests of Connecticut.

You were new to this whole thing, but your parents had been hunting their whole lives, they knew letting you grow up in a world where you won't know whether your parents will come back from "work" alive or not was no life to live. As they were careful, they had many hunter friends who would go with one of your parents on a hunt, while the other can look after you without leaving you alone. At the age of 13, your parents asked you if you wanted to join them on your first hunt in Nashville. Of course, you agreed.

You found a witch mythology book in the fiction category, you slid it out of its slot, and managed to pick it up with one hand. You tossed the book a little higher so you could reach your right arm underneath it. It was a heavy book, almost the size of A3 paper. The spine of the book had silver embedded leaves, almost vine-like crawling up the side. The front held a cauldron with three witches gathering around it, the background a deep, crimson velvet red. The title read 'Witch Mythology: Spellbinds and Myths'. You were so captivated by the intricate detail of the book, when at the last minute, you noticed someone on the right, searching for a book. You jump and step back.

"Sorry. I almost bumped into you." You apologise, still remaining quiet. The guy turns around to face you, his grey, almost blue eyes glance into yours. He smiles and looks down at the floor, before returning his eyes back to yours. "It's okay, don't worry." He gives a reassuring smirk, and you smile back. "What are you looking for? I practically live here, so I know where everything is." You chuckle, attempting to not sound too nerdy, but it's true. You spent a lot of your free time here while your parents went away for a weekend or whenever you were bored. He purses his lips together and furrows his brows. "Something about demons, like demonic possession." He struggles to find his words, as if he's confused himself. You slide your book and balance it on one arm, while pointing at the shelf. "Right there." You say, and he nods. "Ah." He chuckles again, picking up the book. "Thank you. It's exactly what I was looking for." He says, scanning the book that you carried. "What's that you got there?"

"A book on witch mythology," You start, frantically trying to think of an excuse to not sound like you're either a weirdo, or a hunter. "It's for my history class I'm taking. It's a weird subject but I don't know, it kinda sounds interesting." You say, focusing your gaze upon his. "History? Where are you studying?" He questions, moving his stance onto his left leg. "Wichita State. Are you studying there too?" You ask him, and he shakes his head. "No, I'm at Stanford. I'm back here in Lawrence to visit family." He says, slowly walking backwards, ushering you to follow, and you comply.

You both sat down at a desk, opposite the bookshelves you were just chatting at. You scoot yourself into the desk, and feel yourself glancing at this tall, strange man as he does the same. "What's your name? I feel bad for not asking." He asks you, and you tell him. "Just Naomi?" he examines your face, as if to find an answer. "Naomi Grace Greaves." You tell him, and he smiles. "Well, nice to meet you Naomi Grace Greaves. I'm Sam William Winchester."

–

Some time passes and you both agree to talk outside of the library, the main reason of this was due to the librarian having to get up out of her seat every 5 minutes to hush you both and point to the "NO TALKING" sign glued onto the bookshelf. You both go to the reception and apologise, while also getting the book stamped for return in 4 weeks’ time.

You both exited the library walking next to each other, crossing the road and planted yourselves onto a picnic table where you both could talk freely and as loud as you like. Sam is across from you, wearing a light blue flannel button-up with orange accents, with a white t-shirt underneath. 'The colours matched him well, you thought. It allowed his naturally tanned skin to show against the bright white, also bringing out the relucent Olympic blue in his eyes. You force yourself to look away before he's driven to think otherwise. "So, what do your parents do? You said you study at Stanford, which is great, but what did your parents do?" You ask, seeing the question almost burn into his skull. "I just want to get to know you better, that's all." You manage to make out, and he coughs. "My mom died before I was born, my older brother Dean was about 4 years old. I haven't seen my dad for a few months, though. He disappears from time to time. I guess it's from losing mom, he wants to be alone." Sam informs you, and you feel your heartbreak inside. You felt for this guy, even though you met him an hour ago, it already felt like you were best friends, despite even knowing anything other than names. "Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry." You empathise, leaning more towards him."I lost my sister in a car accident when I was 6. She was 14. Jasmine was her name... She ended up in a coma for 4 months and she eventually woke up while my father and I was there, and she kept repeating that she saw black eyes. Black eyes and smoke. She'd say; 'Nai, they had black eyes. Smoke inside of them, Nai. Oh my God, black eyes. It's so scary.' Then..." You stop, glaring down at the picnic table. "She'd pass out. We still don't know if it was due to her comatose or from shock or something. She died 2 weeks later." You sigh, Sam looks at you with bleakness in his eyes. "I'm sorry." Was all that he managed to say, and that was alright.

The pair of you sat there in silence for a few minutes, collecting your thoughts whilst unsure on what to say next. Sams ringtone broke the silence, and he quickly answered his phone. "Hey, Dean." He says, then covering the microphone. "Sorry, one sec." He says, removing himself from the table and walking 3 feet away from where you were. You grin at him, attempting to not listen in to his conversation. Was Dean his brother? Maybe father? You asked yourself, unclear on who Dean was.

"Are you serious?" He exclaims, furrowing his eyebrows. "Look, I'm with a friend, and I-" He motions his hand at you, then smirking. "Okay, Dean. Okay. Okay, okay, give me 10 minutes and I'll be back." He hangs up the phone and makes his way back to you. "Sorry again, it's my brother." He explains, and you nod. "Do you need to be elsewhere?" You try to not pry, while still attempting to get a straight answer. "Yeah, my brother needs me somewhere, so I need to go. What's your number?" He scrambles out of the seat again, and so do you. You pull out your flip phone and tell him your number. He enters the digits and sends a quick "It's Sam" text, before picking up his library book. "Sorry to cut this short but I'll text you when I'm next in town." He grins, walking away. "See you later, Sam." You almost yell, and he waves. "Goodbye, Naomi."

You pick up your mythology book and stare at your phone screen, you changed the 10 digit number to 'Sam W'. You smile to yourself, uncertain on what could unravel with Sam Winchester.

–

Later on that night, you receive a call from Sam. Your heart felt like it warmed from seeing his name on your screen, and you press answer. "Hello Sammy." You giggle, thinking of the little nickname on the spot. "Ha ha, very original." He says, then chuckles. "What are you up to?" He asks you, and you softly view the contents in your room. "Nothing, why?" You sit up properly on your bed, one hand sandwiched between your thighs. "Just wanted to see if you were free to call, that's all." Sams' end of the call went silent, and you look up at the clock. 9:42PM. "Yeah, sure, I can talk."you smile, laying back down onto your bedsheets. "When will you be back in town?" You ask him, smiling to yourself. "Soon." He laughs, understanding that the word 'soon' could mean tomorrow, or in 6 months time. "Sam!" You exclaim, and he huffs playfully. "What? I said soon." He guffaws. "When is soon?" You ask again, hoping for a serious answer this time. "Maybe... two weeks?" He even questions himself, "I'm not sure. I go back to college on Friday. Then my brother wants me to go on a roadtrip with him on Saturday." He sighs, you hear him rub his face, the facial hair coming into contact with his hand. "Okay. I guess I can wait." You joke, and he laughs. "You miss me already?" Sam practically smiles through the phone, and you do too.

"Yeah. I do."

#supernatural #spn #supernatural imagines #spn imagines #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural series

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