#getting through the series just to see (or hear) them
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A Legacies Secret |1|
Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader
Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.
Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Break in
Word Count: 3.3k+
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Part 1
“Hey babe, what’s up?” you asked.
Tara smiled, even while at work you still managed to answer her calls. She could hear you moving around, the clanging of glasses and the sound of patrons on the other end of the phone. “I miss you,” Tara said. She hadn’t seen you all day and she was home alone and bored.
You chuckled. Tara couldn’t make out the words, you sounded far away but she could tell you were talking to a customer. “Sorry,” you said, coming back to the phone. “We saw each other yesterday.” Tara didn’t say anything, pouting as she grabbed a pot to make dinner. “But,” you sighed, but Tara knew you were smiling. “I missed you too.”
“You didn’t spend the night last night,” Tara pouted, even though you couldn’t see her she wanted to make you feel guilty. “I’m home all alone.”
“You’re always home alone.” Tara’s pout turned into a frown, she glared at you through the phone. “Besides I have an apartment, we could literally be alone together whenever you want.”
“Your apartment is tiny.”
Tara couldn’t help but smile, imagining the eye roll you’d surely give her. “Is that your way of saying when we get out of this hellhole, you’re not going to live with me?” Tara rolled her eyes; you always made everything so dramatic. “It’s fine. You’ll be going to college, living on campus, and I’ll be living in a shoebox all alone wherever you decide to go.”
“I’d love to live in a shoebox with you,” Tara giggled. “Sounds cozy.”
“Yeah?” you teased. “I thought my apartment was too small.”
“It is.” Your apartment truly was tiny. There was a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It was tiny but it was all you. Tara knew it was the best you could do and still save money and since you were on your own it was actually incredible how well you were doing. She still loved giving you shit about your tiny apartment though. “But I like the idea of being in close quarters with you.”
It seemed you had taken the phone away from your ear again. Tara heard you mumbling and someone else, they had a deeper voice, she assumed it was your boss. “I have to go,” you sighed. “I’ve been informed this has counted as my break.”
Tara rolled her eyes; your boss could be an ass at times. “Tell them you’re dealing with an emergency. Your girlfriend is needy and wants your attention.”
You chuckled again. Tara bit her lip, she didn’t need to see you, just hearing your laugh was everything. “I’m not really sure he cares about that.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“I’ll come over after I get off.”
“I’ll wait up.”
“It’ll be late.”
“I’ll wait up,” Tara said again. She always tried to wait up for you. You worked at a bar and usually didn’t get off till well after midnight, almost early morning the next day at times. There were days you’d get off and come over and you’d be in bed for maybe an hour at most before Tara was getting up for school, those days you were always still in bed by the time she got home.
“Off the phone!” an angry voice came. They were clearly a good distance away, but Tara could hear them clear as day.
“Two seconds!” you screamed back. “I really have to go,” your voice went back to being soft, like it always was when you spoke to Tara. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Tara smiled as she hung up. You’d been dating for almost two years and had said ‘I love you’ a long time ago but it never failed to make Tara blush.
Tara smiled to herself, swaying back and forth in the kitchen. You and her always casually talked about the future together. It wasn’t anything crazy, it wasn’t talks about marriage and getting a house together. It was simple, it was talking about moving in together once Tara graduated. It might seem rushed to most people, moving in together right after high school, especially since you were a few years older, but Tara was eighteen and she knew what she wanted.
Some of the people who thought she was crazy were her best friends, they didn’t have a problem saying it either. Tara didn’t listen to them though, you and her had a plan. Tara would graduate and once she heard back from the schools she applied to, she’d choose, hopefully she’d get into her number one choice, then the two of you would find a little place by campus and you’d work, she’d go to school, and she’d get to come home to you and wake up next to you every day.
Since she couldn’t talk to you, she decided to text Amber. She was bored and though she only needed to entertain herself for a few hours she didn’t want to do it alone. She would just have to make sure Amber didn’t spend the night. You and Amber didn’t get along to put it lightly. You basically hated each other but tolerated each other’s presence, to an extent, for Tara’s sake. Tara honestly wasn’t sure why you didn’t like each other. It was more Amber than you, you kind of just reciprocated her hatred. Amber was never fond of you though. Tara has tried to ask a few times what the deal was, and Amber only ever said she just didn’t think you were good enough.
Tara: Wanna come over? We can binge watch movies
Amber: Where’s the girlfriend?
Tara rolled her eyes. Amber always started off hostile when it came to you. Ever since Tara introduced you, even before the two of you started dating. Amber has always had attitude. Tara tried to avoid talking about you but in times like this it was hard when Amber was the one bringing you up for no reason.
Tara: Work
Amber: Glad to know I’m the second choice
Tara: Stop
Tara: Do you want to hangout or not?
Tara: I’ll make the popcorn
Amber: You can do better than that
The phone on the counter started to ring. Tara looked up from her phone, scrunching her eyebrows at the ringing. No one ever called the landline, if someone wanted to talk to her or her mom, they had their cell. Hell, Tara wasn’t even sure she knew the home phone number. She shook her head and went back to texting Amber.
Tara: You get first pick of the movie?
Amber: I got some homework to finish up
Tara rolled her eyes, of course Amber was going to be difficult. The landline continued to ring. Tara was doing her best to ignore it, whoever was calling seemed persistent though.
Tara: Open liquor cabinet
Amber: Sold!
Tara: Fucking landline won’t stop ringing
“Hello?” Tara answered the landline with an eyeroll, not being able to stand the ringing any longer and hoping to get rid of whoever was on the other end quickly.
“Hello, is Christina there?” A man asked.
Tara rolled her eyes again, of course it was someone asking for her mom. “No, she’s not available. May I take a message?”
“Oh, uhh, yeah, sorry,” he stumbled over his words. Tara didn’t pay him much mind as she got the footrest and made her way over to get the key to the liquor cabinet. “I’m a friend of hers from group. Shit,” he whispered, clearly not meaning to say that.
“From her shit?” Tara smiled to herself, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.
“Just tell her I’m from group, I’m Charlie, she’s got my number.”
“Oh, she goes to group?” Tara asked, not believing for a second her mom was going to any sort of group.
“I shouldn’t have-look can you just tell her Charlie called?”
“And I’ll do exactly that Charlie, once you tell me what kind of group we’re talking about. Is it AA? NA?”
“Well, you sound exactly like she described you.”
“She talks about me in group?” Tara couldn’t believe that either, that definitely didn’t sound like her mom.
“Look, I don’t think I can really talk about that.”
Tara sighed, pulling out her phone again. She needed to tell Amber about this. Amber knew exactly what her mom was like and there was no way she wouldn’t enjoy this.
Tara: Dude I think it’s my mom’s new BF
Amber: Seriously???
“What did she say about me?” there was an edge of hostility in her tone, she wanted to hear all about what her mother possibly said about her in this group.
“Well, she loves you very much.”
“Oh, what does she love about me?” Tara asked, her sarcasm coming back.
“She loves that you’re creative, you love art and TV and movies.”
“Okay, lots of people love movies,” she shook her head, dismissing him.
“But she said you love scary movies and that you guys have that in common. She’s proud at making a fan out of you.”
“She is?” Tara slowed her movements, she used to watch scary movies with her mom all the time, but she’d never heard her mom say she was proud of her for anything before.
“Yeah, she told me the other day she wonders, what’s your favorite scary movie?” Tara ignored the way the man’s voice changed, still focusing on the fact that her mom was apparently proud of her.
“Uhh, The Babadook, it’s an amazing meditation on motherhood and grief.”
“Isn’t that a little fancy pants?” the man asked with a chuckle.
“Well, it’s elevated horror.”
“What does that mean, elevated horror?”
“You know, it’s like scary but with complex emotional and thematic underpinning, it’s not just some schlocky cheeseball nonsense with wall-to-wall jump scares.”
The man hummed, not seeming very interested in her answer. “That seems kind of boring to me. Have you ever seen Stab?” his tone changed again when he asked her the question, but once again Tara didn’t think much of it.
“Once, I think, at a sleepover, when I was like twelve.”
The man laughed at that. “You live in Woodsboro, and you don’t know Stab? Well, your mother loves that movie, she talks about it all the time in group. How well do you remember the original?”
“I don’t know, and it was like super 90s, it was really over lit, and everyone had weird hair.”
“Do you remember the beginning?”
“Not really, I mean it started with a kill scene, right? They always started with a kill scene.”
“Yeah, that’s right. That’s right,” he tone shifted again. “It’s a girl at home alone, she answers the wrong number and starts talking with the killer who makes her play a game.” Tara slowed her movements again, thinking the conversation was treading into weird territory. “Would you like to play a game, Tara?” he whispered her name. A chill went down her spine and she quickly hung up, not bothering to answer him.
Tara tossed the phone on the counter, watching it as if it would ring again. Her eyes darted around the house, looking for anything that shouldn’t be there. She pulled out her phone and locked all the doors, arming the alarm. She knew it was Woodsboro and someone always liked to make prank calls, especially around this time of year but she wasn’t taking her chances. Tara looked out the window, not seeing anyone creeping around her yard as she closed the curtains.
Tara checked the time on her phone. Only several minutes had passed since she had talked to you. She still had a few hours before you’d get off and get to the house. Her thumb hovered over your contact, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. Tara knew she was just being paranoid, but she just wanted your comfort, you’d calm her down within seconds. She didn’t want to bother you though, she knew you were at work, you were busy, and you’d already been yelled at for just talking to her.
She left your contact and went to text Amber. She just needed to be talking to someone. It was clearly a stupid prank, but she just wanted someone to help keep her sane otherwise her imagination would drive her crazy.
Tara: It was some psycho. I’m locking the doors.
Amber: WTF??? You okay?
Tara started to type out she was fine and just a little jumpy. She knew it was probably a prank but that didn’t mean it wasn’t freaking her out. Before she could finish typing her text though the phone started ringing again, making her jump.
Amber: You should answer it.
Tara scrunched her eyebrows looking at Ambers text, she slowly lifted her eyes to look at the ringing phone again, then back down at her cell. Her thumb hesitated over the letters as she typed out her message.
Tara: How did you know my landline was ringing?
Tara: Amber?
Amber: This isn’t Amber
Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE BITCH
Tara moved to call the police; she had nine dialed, tears slowly began to fill her eyes, when another message appeared.
Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES
Tara ran back to the counter, picking up the phone. “This isn’t fucking funny Amber,” she said but couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.
“I told you, this isn’t Amber,” the same voice as before said, this time sounding much more sinister. Just then a video was sent to Tara, when she opened it, she saw footage of Amber, sitting in her room and brushing her hair. “Amber’s looking particularly fetching tonight. She really shouldn’t leave her phone lying around for anyone to clone.”
“What do you want?”
“I told you, I want to play a game,” he talked to her as if she was a child. “Stab movie trivia, three rounds, you call the cops, she dies, you get a question wrong, she dies, her parents aren’t home, I can be in that room in fifteen seconds. You want a warm-up question?”
“I told you, I don’t know these movies,” came out in a whine, tears already getting ready to fall. “I don’t! Ask me about something I do know,” she tried to bargain. “Ask me about It Follows, ask me about Hereditary, ask me about The Witch.”
“In the first Stab movie,” he continued, completely ignoring Tara’s pleas. “What Woodsboro native was introduced as the franchise’s main character?”
“It’s Sidney Prescott! It’s Sidney Prescott and she lived on Elm.”
“Correct. You see, you’re gonna do great at this. Okay, question one.”
“Nonono, I got that one right, it should count.”
“Anyone could have gotten that one right, Sidney’s in every movie but the last one. Question one, who wrote the original book the Stab movies are based on?”
“The chick from TV,” Tara struggled to remember her name. She had never read any of the books and she certainly didn’t watch the morning show the lady did.
“The chick from TV is not going to cut it Tara,” they let out a disappointed sigh.
“Oh! Gale Weathers! It’s Gale Weathers you motherfucker.”
“Correct. Amber might live to see the sunrise. Question two, who played the dumb bitch at the beginning of Stab one who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”
“Fuck you.”
“Is that the answer you’re going with?” Tara quickly typed on her phone, going to IMDB and looking at the cast for Stab. “A non-answer counts as a wrong answer Tara. Time’s running out.” He continuously repeated the words tick tock, getting faster and faster as the seconds passed, making Tara more anxious and scroll faster.
“Maybe I made a mistake,” he continued, causing Tara to halt her scrolling for a second. “Maybe Amber isn’t enough motivation.” Tara let out a shaky breath, preparing herself for his next words. “Maybe I should have gone after your little girlfriend,” he spit out, not able to hide is clear hatred. “It’d be much easier, I mean it’s late, there’s no one around. No one would even hear her scream.”
“She has nothing to do with this!” Tara screamed, sobbing into the phone. She couldn’t get the image out of her head of you leaving the bar and getting jumped by Ghostface, getting stabbed and left to bleed out in the street with no one to help.
“She has everything to do with this,” the voice snapped. Tara didn’t even have time to process the clearly emotional outburst. “Tick tock Tara,” they snapped again. “Or should I just kill both? I’m sure I can gut Amber and then make it to-”
“Heather Graham!” Tara screamed finally finding the name, cutting the killer off before he could threaten you again.
“Correct,” he said, going right back to his calmer demeanor. “You pulled that one out, now for the final question, who was the killer in Stab one?”
“Oh, I know this one you fuck,” Tara gasped, realizing she knew the answer. “It’s Billy Loomis! It’s Billy Loomis and he was Sidney’s boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson, and I got you asshole,” Tara couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved at getting the answer right. “I got it! I got it right!”
“Oh, I’m sorry Tara,” he almost sounded sympathetic. “But that’s just not correct.”
“What?” Tara whispered, confused, and not believing what she was hearing. “No no no no it is, that is right.”
"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, there are two killers in the original Stab. I’m afraid someone’s gotta die now.”
“Nono, Amber I’m coming!” she shouts as she sets down the phone and grabs a kitchen knife, running for her front door.
When Tara threw open her door, she was met with the sight of Ghostface who quickly slashed their knife across her left side. Tara punched them in the face and slammed the door. She fought against Ghostface as he tried to shove his way in but eventually, she got the door shut, quickly locking it.
Tara pulled out her phone again, arming the system again and hitting the button to alert the authorities. She picked up her knife, slowly backing up down the hallway as she heard Ghostface relentlessly banging on the door trying to get in when suddenly the banging stopped. Tara’s heart dropped when she heard the alarm system say it was disarmed, Ghostface had access to her system somehow. Tara quickly armed it again, but Ghostface was ready, disarming it once again. They went back and forth arming and disarming the alarm system until it finally landed on armed.
Tara stood at the end of the hallway gasping for breath as she continued to sob. The landline rang again, startling her and making her swing the knife. She held the wall, sobbing as she made her way back to the landline.
“Hello?” Tara said, her words shaky as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, keeping the hand holding the knife raised.
“Bonus question Tara,” Ghostface whispered.
“Please stop,” she begged.
“Do you think I made it inside your house before you could re-arm?”
Just as Tara’s eyes widened with the realization, Ghostface came out from behind her, stabbing her in the stomach. Tara let out a scream of pain. When Ghostface pushed her into the kitchen island she turned around, smacking him across the head before he could stab her again.
Ghostface grabbed her by the head and shoved her to the floor. Tara rolled over, kicking Ghostface in the stomach. Ghostface brought down their boot, snapping Tara’s leg. Tara rolled over, sobbing from the pain.
Ghostface brought down his knife towards her face, but she reached up, causing the knife to go through her left hand. Tara screamed, holding Ghostface’s arm up as he continued to try and push the knife towards her face despite it still being in her hand. He finally pulled the knife out and Tara kicked him, making him lose his balance and crash to the floor.
Unable to walk, Tara crawled her way to the front door, screaming for help. Just as Tara reached the door and she could hear the police sirens, Ghostface yanked her back, stabbing her in the side several more times.
“Nononononono,” Tara screamed as Ghostface brought his knife down onto her again.
#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x fem!reader#tara carpenter imagine#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#scream#scream 5#scream v#a legacies secret
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Friday Night
Summary: First time Frankie tells you he loves you and finally meeting the boys.
Part of the Parents to Lovers series, set between Paint with Me and Between Us
Warnings/Tags: MDNI, GO ON GET! Cuteness, little splash of smut, oral M!receiving, anxious reader, cussing, I think that's it but if anyone sees something I should add that I forgot let me know!
A/N: Happy Frankie Friday!!! Thank you so very much @beefrobeefcal, my fellow Frankie obsessed friend for taking a look at this and continuously helping me with my writing. @endlessthxxghts for also taking a look at this and offering your expertise much appreciated bb! Last but not least, @jay-zzle GUURRRLLLLL!!! Moodboards(like this one), story ideas, screaming with me about Pedro, thank you for meeting my delulu at the same level. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Masterlist||AO3 Link||Parents to Lovers
dividers provided by @saradika-graphics
“I’m so close,” Frankie hisses, gripping the couch cushion, knuckles turning white with the force. His cock twitches in your mouth, your hands feeling the tension in his thighs as you bob along his length, eyes looking up to watch him. His eyebrows scrunch together, chest heaving, his neck and face flushed with a crimson color.
He groans, watching your swollen lips wrapped around him as he comes into your mouth.
“I love you.”
Your eyes widen at his words as you swallow every drop with a hum. Releasing his length with a soft pop, you crawl into his lap. You couldn't help but let your smile spread across your face. Leave it to you and your luck to have the man you are smitten with admit he loves you as you make him come with your mouth.
Frankie's eyes remain heavy lidded as he watches you with a half-smile tugging at his lips.
"So," you giggle, walking your fingers up his chest with a cocked eyebrow. "You love me, huh?”
He grabs the back of your neck, smashing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss.
“That’s not exactly how I wanted to tell you, but yeah,” Frankie says, neck and cheeks flushing with warmth even more.
“Hmm,” you laugh, “What a way to let a girl know.”
“It’s true though, ya know? I do love you. Definitely didn’t want it to come out that way, had thought of a better way to tell you but shit happens,” Frankie says with a shrug.
“I love you too.”
“Yeah?” he asks with a grin, “So, does that mean you’d want to meet the guys finally?”
The men are more so brothers to him than friends. He’s brought up introducing you to them before, but it just seemed too soon. It’s been five months, and things seem to be going in a more serious direction. You’ve tried to put it off, though now it seems like it might be the right time.
—
Frankie: Sitter just got here. Headed your way 😘
It’s Friday night, you’re finally going to meet Frankie’s friends, the men who mean just as much to him as Missy. Dressed in your favorite jeans, your lucky AC/DC shirt, and your sneakers, you’re pacing outside on the sidewalk waiting for Frankie to arrive.
“You’ve got this,” you mutter to yourself. If anyone were to see you they’d probably think you were nuts but you didn’t care; your nerves were getting the better of you, the voice inside your head making all sorts of suggestions like, why you picked that outfit or that you’re underdressed. “Stop that, you’re meeting them at a bar for fuck sakes,” you hiss at yourself.
You hear Frankie’s truck approaching and stop your pacing. It’s darker out but you can still see him through the windshield, that standard oil ball cap on, and the wide grin on his face when he sees you. He stops beside the sidewalk, leaning over the center console to push the passenger side door open for you.
“Didn’t think you’d be waiting outside for me,” he laughs, as you get in the cab of his truck.
“Nervous,” you shrug, giving him a quick kiss before buckling in.
“Nervous?” Frankie asks, perplexed, “About what?”
“Just nervous they aren’t going to like me,” you say quietly, picking at the skin around your thumbnail.
“Baby,” Frankie says, grabbing your hand, “You make me happy and they know that. That’s all they care about. No need to worry about anything.”
You let out a breath, squeezing his hand. You’re already feeling more calm now that you’re with Frankie.
—
It was a short drive to the bar they frequent the most. Frankie’s told you many stories about this bar and their shenanigans there. As you enter the bar you can feel some of the tension leaving your body. It’s a nice little place, not very well-lit but it gives off a comforting vibe. There’s a jukebox in the corner, a rough-looking gentleman behind the bar, and a table where you see three men beginning to stand, waving at you and Frankie.
“Fish!” A tall blonde shouts, “You finally brought your girl!”
“I did!” Frankie says, his hand at your lower back guiding you over to his friends, “Finally talked her into meeting you assholes.”
Frankie began laughing and giving hugs to his friends before you all sat at the table.
“Alright babe, this is Will, Santi, and Benny,” Frankie says pointing to each man, who in turn raises their hand.
“So he had to convince you to meet us?” Will asked, raising his eyebrow.
“It wasn’t really like that,” you laugh, “I was just nervous is all.”
“We don’t bite,” Santi said with a smile, “Well not all of us,” he added, glancing at Benny.
“It was one fucking time. Will you let it go?” Benny grumbled, crossing his arms, “I told you if you didn’t let me go I was going to do it.”
“I’m gonna get a beer,” Frankie said, nudging your arm, “Want anything?”
“Margarita, please.”
“Sure thing,” he said, kissing your temple before leaving the table.
“So,” Will started, leaning closer to the table, “You get along with Missy?”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Santi murmured, “Ironhead, leave her alone. Remember meeting Nora at Missy’s birthday party last month?”
“Nora?” Benny asked, whipping his head towards Santi, “The one that hit me in the nuts with the water balloon?”
“She did what?!” You asked, “I’m so sorry!”
“Guys, this is Nora’s mom,” Santi explained, gesturing towards you.
“Oh fuck! I forgot you’re a MILF!” Benny exclaimed, earning him a smack from Will to the back of the head.
“Here you go, babe,” Frankie said, setting your margarita down in front of you. Immediately grabbing it to take a drink, hoping it soothes your nerves after that small interrogation from Will.
—
The conversation and drinks flow as you hear more stories about Frankie, Santi, Benny, and Will. From their time in the army and their many adventures in life after. You learn that the men have been there a lot for Frankie, his journey as a single dad, and the struggles he’s dealt with. It’s apparent that Missy is a big part of their lives just as she is in Frankie’s. They each spoke fondly of her and how much they adore her.
“I’ll be back,” Frankie grunts, standing up with a stretch, “Bout to piss myself.”
“Please don’t,” Santi laughs, “I don’t have a spare pair of pants this time.”
You give Santi a curious look as Frankie glares at him shaking his head, making his way to the bathroom.
“Story for another time, hermosa,” Santi says with a wicked grin.
“What’s the deal with you and Frankie?” Will blurts out, once Frankie is out of earshot.
“Yeah,” Benny agrees, “What’s the deal?”
“Not quite sure what you mean,” you start, “But if you’re asking what we are, he’s my boyfriend and I’m his girlfriend?”
“No, we get that,” Will replies with a sigh, “What I mean is what are your intentions with him? Where do you see this going?”
“Jesus christ, Will,” Santi scolds, “You need to leave her alone with the intense questions!”
“I’m just a concerned friend,” Will snaps, then turns towards you, “Do you see this lasting long term or is this just a fling?”
“Well,” you start, “It’s not just a fling by any means. I love Frankie. I know you are looking out for him and are protective, I can respect that. No need to worry though, the last thing I would want is Frankie’s heart to be broken or mine.”
“Do you get along with Missy?” Benny pipes in, “You never really answered that question earlier.”
“Missy is such a sweetheart. I have her over at my house all the time to play with Nora and she loves it when she gets to stay the night,” you smile thinking about the last slumber party the girls had, baking cookies together making a mess of your kitchen, “She’s a cool kid but we haven’t told the girls yet. We want to wait until we’re more sure of where things are going if you’re concerned about that.”
Will and Benny nod, listening to what you have to say. Santi gives you a warm smile.
“Told you guys,” Santi hums, taking a swig from his beer, “Why would you question anything when Frankie’s been so positive when he talks about her?”
“Rose-tinted glasses my friend, rose-tinted glasses,” Will replies, “We’ve all been there.”
“Hey guys, I’m back,” Frankie says, taking his place beside you, “Sorry, sitter called.”
“Missy okay?” you ask, concern etching your face.
“Yeah, yeah,” Frankie smiles, brushing his hand along your shoulder, “Just wanted to tell me good night.”
“She’s so sweet,” Will smiles fondly.
“She can be,” Frankie laughs, “So did I miss anything while I was gone?”
“Not much,” Will replies, nodding his head towards you with a smile, “Finally got yourself a good one Fish.”
Frankie smiles at you, tips of his ears going a slight pink, and he nods, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
#pedro pascal characters#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie x reader#frankie friday#francisco morales smut#fransico catfish morales#frankie morales fluff
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I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I
Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.
But he doesn't stay a stranger.
Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit / MDNI
Word count: 7k+
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added
AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist
notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!
this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.
Chapter 2 - The Patrol
‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story.
There is no other version of this story.’
- Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby
There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station.
Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.
“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.
“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”
“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”
Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?
He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.
It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy.
He would’ve missed it.
The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods.
Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”
It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.
He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.
Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.
He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.
***
The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.
The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.
“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.
Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.
It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.
Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”
She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”
Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.
“Is Lane not with you?”
You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.”
“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless.
“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.
“She's not at home either.”
An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”
You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.
“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”
“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always.
“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.
“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson.
You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.
“She went out a few times.”
“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.
“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.
“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly.
Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”
Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?”
She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”
“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?”
The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”
And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?
The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon.
You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.
if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3
#to dig a grave#joel miller / reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller / you#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller / original female character#joel miller / oc#joel miller#fanfic#fanfiction#the last of us#the last of us part 2#tommy miller#ellie williams#softpascalito#tlou#hurt/comfort#angst#smut#grief/mourning#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#joel / reader#joel x reader#chapter 2
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The hypothetical debates surrounding the whole "Lady and Lord Whistledown" vs "Colin and Penelope Bridgerton" make me wither because
Lady and Lord Whistledown.
I'm telling you, this shit would be so fucking funny. I can picture it in my mind's eye: Bridgerton season 4, we get a quick shot of Colin and Penelope talking shit and giggling like crazy in the background, maybe with some PDA to match because Colin can't keep his hands off her, only to hear a male voice actor of a similar calibre to our angel Julie Andrews join in sometimes while Charlotte picks up the paper and cackles. Obviously, the reveal would happen, but I want to believe that our Queen would be down for Whistledown to continue as long as it doesn't get too personal. It would be kind of unfair and a bit indicative of the period, monarchy and all, but Charlotte being in on it would amp up the comedy points. Plus some ~historical cultural commentary~ would just be that final flavouring of spice.
It would kind of feel like Colin's turning to the dark side because we've already seen quite a few scenes where he seems possessed by Lady Whistdown's attitude and I love the idea of him coming from hating Lady Whistledown's guts to protecting her and joining in because it's fun and it activated his little shit reflex. Plus the subtextual implications of just how much Colin and Penelope actually are best friends and are connected beyond normalcy would just be *chef's kiss*
I would also love it because it feels very partner-in-crime vibes, giving another aspect to their relationship that would be fun to see. Combined with the power Lady Whistledown has on the story, we'd be guaranteed to see our beans quite a lot. Also a "Hello, my Lady," followed by a "Hello, my Lord" after a particularly steamy scene would literally have me shaking crying giggling dancing kicking my feet.
As for Penelope, it honestly depends on how you view her character and her relationship with Lady Whistledown. If the person in question thinks that Lady Whistledown is a vital part of her personality, an aspect of who she is, limiting her by making her quit would just feel really, really sad, man. Lady Whistledown has caused Pen a lot of grief, however, and we see it a lot throughout the story, so I think Colin being there, sharing the secret and partaking would make her feel much more comfortable in her own skin.
Anyway. Love the idea, and would perish if it happened, but probably won't.
Colin and Penelope Bridgerton.
This one's more cute than anything else. Two writers as a couple release solo and joint works sometimes while establishing their reputation as respectable authors and leaving Lady Whistledown behind them. I can see another scene in my mind's eye, Colin and Pen are sitting across from each other on their respective writing desks, writing and then handing each other their work to review and give opinions, paired with a kiss after they start teasing each other about their writing. Considering that the designated Sexy Desk Scene has already been taken, this would have to be in a secluded area or in their bedroom. And then shots of people buying their books and enjoying them would ensue.
With the amount of journals and letters and things Colin's done, he's practically primed for an author's role. Maybe they can be more exposed to Colin's love for travel in this version. Having Penelope with him on his trips while writing their little hearts out would be adorable. Sadly, though, this would mean that they would probably have less screen time.
If you see Lady Whistledown as an outlet for the suffering Penelope was going through throughout the story, she wouldn't need Lady Whistledown anymore and abandon the alias because she's served her purpose as Penelope's coping mechanism, and Colin and Penelope would find their fix through other means. Maybe continuing to gossip but only between the two of them, going back to the beginning of the series and the final link to their relationship.
It's been established over and over again that they both love reading, writing, gossiping, and discussing all things philosophical. And each other for enjoying those qualities. So, I think this dynamic would be particularly interesting because it would be yet another way to connect. They could probably also make each other all hot and bothered by leaving random sexy letters sporadically, which would just be so fitting, tbh. However, that would also work for the Lady and Lord Whistledown dynamic so it's kind of a null point. It would be hot, though.
And, yeah, that's how I see those hypothetical dynamics playing out and how that would affect the characters. But now for the negatives. While I love the Lord Whistledown idea, I do think that Colin is a bit too nice and cute for that, and it would probably be a bit OOC, especially because of his personal experiences with Whistledown, it would be a bit weird if his tune suddenly changed to "yeah, I know gossip can ruin someone's life, but I like it now, so I don't care." But I also just can't fathom Bridgerton without Lady Whistledown, and this idea hinges on literally removing the narrator and source of all the tea, as well as making us lose our angel Julie Andrews. At least the Lady and Lord Whistledown idea fulfills almost all fronts of their relationship dynamic.
Again, as the GIF demonstrates, both are good, and I love both of them for the different ways they would take the characters, but let's be real, a combo would be really fun as well. Like Pen keeps up with Lady Whistledown while Colin writes his own books or smth.
Anyway, enough of my rambling. Bye.
#polin#bridgerton#polin bridgerton#penelope x colin#colin x penelope#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#penelope bridgerton#lady whistledown#lord whistledown
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What “It’s Written Like a Fanfic” actually means as a criticism—
Lately, I’ve seen a lot of people use “it’s written like fan fiction” as a negative critique of stories that are poorly written.
I’ve especially seen this criticism talked about in regards to Hazbin Hotel, and honestly, it’s a criticism I agree with.
But I wanted to talk specifically about what that means, because I think there are people who hear that criticism and take it to mean that ALL fan fiction is terrible and poorly written.
I need to make it REALLY CLEAR that I am not saying all fan fiction is “bad”.
I’ve written (probably bad) fan fiction! I’m an avid reader of fan fiction! Some of my favorite stories are fan fiction or are derived from fan fiction.
So. How can I use “it’s written like a fanfic” as a negative criticism if I like it so much? Because—
To me, a story being “written like a fanfiction” is only a problem when the writers approach the characters and world of their story as if everything has been pre-established.
The reason fan fiction works, the reason it can be so deeply beloved and celebrated, is usually because fanfiction writers and audiences have already fallen in love with an existing world and characters.
For example, I really love Batman, specifically Batman: The Animated Series. When I read fan fiction about Batman, I don’t always want to, or need to, read about Bruce Wayne’s backstory and his reasons and motives for becoming Batman. That’s something that can be explored and elaborated on in many interesting ways in fan fiction, but it’s not really something I need a beat by beat explanation on.
And, in this scenario, the writer of the fic doesn’t need to spend time establishing Batman’s basic characterization and relationships. There’s an assumption that the audience and readers already have an idea of those subjects. That’s why they’re seeking out fan fic—because they’ve already delved into the source material, and want to see more of those characters and that world.
That’s not to say one CAN’T write fan fiction about origin stories and establishing lore and all that, or that those stories will always be poorly written. But it’s not necessary for someone who’s already a fan to understand what’s going on if the writer wants to elaborate on an already established character or story.
In fan fiction, the heavy lifting of establishing character relationships, backstories, and basic relationships, etc. has usually already been done by the source material.
The reason someone seeks out fan fiction is (almost always) because they already know and enjoy the characters and setting, and want to hear more stories about those characters.
However, if you’re writing your own story, you need to take the time to establish your story’s basic tone, plot, characters and so on, before you can get to the exciting and more gripping or engaging parts of your narrative.
Hazbin Hotel (the Amazon series) is very guilty of skipping over a lot of the work of building up and establishing its characters and world and how they mesh with the plot and narrative.
The most egregious examples I can think of is when (v)Aggie throws the crew into the turf war, we don’t get to SEE any of the bonding the Hazbin crew have, and are then told afterwards that they’re closer and we see them reminiscing about the fight.
The same thing happens when Husk tells everyone what their personal “issues” are because he’s the bartender and can “see through them” because of that. It would be actually nice if we got to SEE how he learned those things, but instead he just lists off characteristics that people who are already fans of the show know from following the shows development.
Brand new audiences just have a bunch of character traits told to them all at once, and don’t actually get to SEE these characterization happen naturally.
I think the main reason Hazbin is written like this is mostly because the creators publicly developed the story online over many, many years.
Anyone who was already a fan of Hazbin’s creators’ previous work probably followed Hazbin’s 10 year development. And as a result, they probably listened to a lot of livestreams, read some of the supplemental comics, went to Q/A streams, and read the creator’s blog. Due to that, they already KNOW a lot about the story and world and characters, and so they don’t notice if those basic world-building and character development ARENT in the show itself.
And obviously, this is all just my opinion, but it very much seems to me like this slow and public development of Hazbin’s characters and story may have had the negative side affect of the creator and writers forgetting that they still have to build up and develop these things in the actual show itself.
Long time fans of the story when it was just a bunch of loose concepts and early characterizations can watch the finalized series of “Hazbin Hotel”, and are able to bridge gaps in the story and characterization because they’ve probably been reading blogs about Hazbin for at least 5 years.
But when someone completely new to the series watches it, there’s a chance they’re going to find the story rushed and disjointed, because they don’t have the background information on the story’s development.
This is a problem specifically because, to write an engaging and competent story, you HAVE to take the time to establish basic things first, and then you have to take the time to BUILD UP to deeper characterization, plot points, character relationships and so on.
Hazbin Hotel the show feels like “a bad fan fic” because it’s, in my opinion, written for people who are already fans, and written by people who want to skip straight to the “fun” parts of their story. But the writers still recognize that the story needs to be accessible to people who are not familiar with it, and to compensate they have to cram in as many explanations and justifications to try and make their story make sense.
The result is that Hazbin Hotel has tons of bland exposition, rushed character arcs and introductions, tonal inconsistencies and confusing lore, and a world and characters that are half-formed and fall flat.
That’s what I personally think the criticism “written like a bad fan fic” means. That the narrative feels like it is based on a preexisting piece of media, and therefore is missing the building blocks needed to make the narrative feel like a believable and fully formed story.
As a side note—I don’t think it’s like. Objectively terrible to develop your story and characters openly. But I DO think it can end up biting you in the ass like I detailed above.
When you already know how your characters behave and where your story is going, and you share that and start to have a following that’s with you every step of the way, I think it’s easy to forget that your story still needs to be accessible to people outside of your fan base.
I mean. I guess it doesn’t NEED to. But like. That’s usually the goal. Funnily enough, that also kind of makes me think of fanfic writing.
Fan fic doesn’t need to be accessible to a general audience b/c it’s often written for the the author’s own gratification and for the gratification of a pre-existing fan base.
Interestingly, I personally don’t think the “fan fiction” criticism applies to the first season of Spindlehorse’s other show, Helluva Boss, because the story and characters were (mostly) thought out first, and the narrative took time to gradually develop the characters and story at a slower pace.
And then season 2 came out and changed the characterization so drastically from what was already established that now it does feel like a fan fiction of itself. lol.
That’s really all I have to say about that. There are other things too that show up a lot in fan fiction and have like…become their own fan fiction tropes that people sometimes expect or mock, and those play a role too. But to me this is the BIGGEST thing that makes a story feel like a bad fan fic. If it’s written as if it’s borrowing from an already established story.
Again! These are just my opinions! I know the sin of sharing one’s opinions online can never be forgiven, but I wanted to examine the reason people use that phrase as a negative criticism.
#funhouse convo#media criticism#media critique#hazbin hotel critical#hazbin hotel critique#hazbin hotel criticism#helluva boss critical#helluva boss critique#media conversation#long post
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Obsession-(follow up) L.HS
✶ Heeseung X Fem! Reader
->This is a follow up to the first part, but you may read it alone if you please, reading the first part is just recommended to get the full story.
Synopsis- Your relationship with Heeseung proves that sometimes you’re forced to make commitments and sacrifices for those you love.
WC: 3.4k
Warnings: toxic relationship, cursing, insecurity, derogatory terms, smut, angst
Smut warnings: dub-con(?), oral(m) somnophilia, kissing, unprotected sex, spanking, rough sex, orgasm denial
A/N: I know I posted the first part to this a while ago but I felt so disappointed with it that I wanted to write something to follow up with. I’m also terrible with my writing schedule so hopefully this will get me back in the game, enjoy!
This is fiction and the scenarios are completely fake and from my brain, none of the characters are like this in real life, MDNI!
Heeseung was trying to be a good boyfriend. Sure, there are moments where he frustrates you or makes you question your relationship. But relationships are all about making commitments, right?
You’re committed to Heeseung- of course you’ll do whatever it takes to be with him. You’ll put up with his mood swings or his trust issues, accepting that he may just be a naturally jealous person.
He makes it hard, though, as he’s too jealous sometimes. He always has trouble believing you only have eyes for him, whether it’s when a stranger is checking you out at a party or you’re being too close for his liking with your best friends—who just so happen to be guys.
God, you love your friends, but it’s clear that Heeseung doesn’t. You don’t expect him to, of course, however you expect him to accept your close bonds with all three of them. They were existent in your life before him, after all.
You can’t bring this up around him though, as he gets quiet each time, stuck in his thoughts and fears of you leaving him. Being the understanding girlfriend you are, you decided to show him just how special he is to you.
✶.
Heeseung sits alone on the couch in your living room, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix in search for new movies or series to start. Since the beginning of your relationship, you both decided on having movie nights every Friday; cuddling up on the couch together with a warm blanket and a plethora of snacks.
You haven’t come home yet, sending him a quick message to let him know you’d be stopping by a grocery store for snacks, then you’ll speed home to see him.
He sits there and waits, grabbing a bag of chips to munch on, watches trailers for new horror movies with stupid plots and terrible actors, then waits some more.
What’s taking you so long? It’s not like you would stand him up, it’s not like you can stand him up—he’s in your house, anyways. Maybe the checkout line is taking too long. Maybe you stopped to buy some alcohol too, or what if that’s what you were planning but forgot your ID in the car?
What if he’s actually going the wrong rout and you had gotten into an accident? Or decided you didn’t like him anymore and wanted to sneak off with someone else before seeing him tonight- “Baby?”
Heeseung jumps at the sound of your voice, quickly turning around to see you shutting the front door, hanging your keys and slipping off your shoes. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t even hear the front door opening.
Your face holds a concerned look, rounding the couch and placing your bags next to Heeseung before dropping to your knees in front of him. “You okay? What happened?” Your hands gently caressed his knees in hopes to comfort him, knowing he’s a sucker for physical touch.
He only shakes his head and pulls you to sit next to him. “Nothing, pretty. I just really missed you.” His voice sounds unsure, but you decided to accept his answer, knowing he hates being pushed to open up.
“I missed you too, cutie. I actually bought something I want to show you.” You peck his nose and his eyes light up in excitement. “I need to go prepare it in my room, but I’ll be back out before you know it.” You smile at him and he nods quickly. “I have to use the bathroom anyways. Perfect timing, I guess.”
You place a soft kiss on his upper lip before grabbing one of your bags and rushing upstairs while Heeseung makes his way to the bathroom. He takes a long look at himself, analyzing his features and taking note of how much better he’s been looking since he’s gotten with you. He’s taken care of himself more, focusing on eating healthier and getting haircuts more often, as well as doing some skincare and shaving his facial hair.
He really feels better with you, smiling to himself in the mirror when he realizes that he’s truly in love with you. He loves you—and he hopes you feel the same way.
After flushing the toilet and leaving the tap running for a minute, Heeseung makes his way out of the bathroom, pausing when he sees you wrapped up in your blanket, waiting for him on the couch.
Walking up hesitantly, he smiles anxiously at you. “What did you wanna-“ he’s cut off when you throw the blanket off of yourself, sat prettily with the most delicate lingerie adorning your body.
Black lace cups your breasts with thin straps hardly covering your shoulders, matching black lace panties sitting high and tight on your hips as the fat of your hips and butt jut out around the material.
Heeseung stands in front of you stiffly, mouth hung open and eyes locked on your figure. Siting up, you reach a hand towards his face and place it under his chin, gently forcing his jaw shut.
“Do you like it?” Your voice is soft and sultry, provoking him to finally touch you. He strokes your head, feeling your soft hair under his fingertips. He’s so in love with you— just that touch sends blood straight to the weight between his legs and he’s suddenly too weak to stand.
Sitting on the couch, he pulls you onto his lap without breaking eye contact. “I’ll take that as a yes.” You giggle and cup his cheek, pulling him into a kiss that only lasts a second as he’s murmuring against your lips. “Yes- fuck, yes.”
You gasp when he pinches one of your nipples through your thin lacy bra. Pushing his tongue into your mouth, he plays with your own in a mess of drool and moans, all while rocking your hips against his.
He pulls away to moan loudly, resting his head on the back of the couch. “I’m glad you like it.” You kiss his neck, licking his jaw slowly before sucking a mark into his skin.
“The boys helped me pick it out.”
His eyes shoot open at this, quickly sitting up and looking you in the eyes. “The boys?” He furrows his brows, confused, but also hurt. You let the boys-Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon, not only see you in lingerie but pick it out? For your boyfriend to see later on?
“What do you mean they helped you pick it out? Like you went to the store together and let them chose it? They seen you in it?” He sounds like he’s going to cry, voice cracking but there’s also a hint of anger.
You nod, eyes wide and worried. “Well, yes. I asked for their opinions because they’re also guys, you know? I thought that’d be the best way to figure out what you’d like…” you trail off as you take note of the irritation appearing on his face.
He finds no point in complaining, no reason to explain why he’s so hurt. Instead, he pushes you off of his lap rather harshly and you land on the soft cushions with a quiet ‘oof’. Of course he didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but with the way he stomps to the front door and angrily grabs his keys, slamming the door shut as he leaves, you can’t help but tear up at his angry demeanor.
Was he really that upset? Over your friends helping pick out a gift, for him? Sure, maybe you didn’t have to wear the lingerie while showing them but Heeseung should know by now that your relationship with your friends is nothing more than platonic.
Deciding you’re too heart broken after being left so alone and exposed, you head to bed early. Well, not exactly early if 11pm was anything to go by, definitely too late for Heeseung to randomly leave and expect you not to worry, but early enough for you to sleep off the mental pain and end up in a better mood in the morning.
✶.
You wake up as an odd weight hits your cheek, repeatedly tapping on your face as you feel the warmth radiating onto your skin. Your eyes open slowly, blinking a few times to fully wake yourself up.
It’s still dark, but you can make out the silhouette of someone standing uncomfortably close to you. Taking in a sharp breath, you turn to your alarm clock and note that it’s around 2am, quickly reaching to turn on the bedside lamp.
The light flickers on and Heeseung groans, quickly reaching his own hand to switch it back off. While he does that, you notice the way he’s fully clothed, save for his hard-on that’s currently face-to-face with you, peeking out from above his sweatpants.
“What-“ you’re cut off as he places a finger upon your lips, slipping it between them and into your mouth to tug your jaw open. You can’t tell what he’s doing with the lights off, but you don’t wonder for long as you suddenly feel his tip entering your mouth, sliding against your tongue.
You’re stiff, laying there in shock as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure, biting his lip with a groan. Heeseung has grown to be more comfortable around you, no longer trying to impress you in order to get you to like him, yet instead trying to impress you to get you to keep liking him—always outdoing himself to prove he’s worth your love.
However, he’s still shy at times, especially intimate times, so seeing him fully take control of you, take advantage of your sleeping figure, is new to you. It’s kind of arousing, but after what happened earlier you just can’t get yourself to enjoy it.
Especially with the way he grips the back of your head and shoves himself fully into your throat, holding you there until you gag and drool onto the ground. The position is awkward; he’s standing in front of you while you’re laying on your side, head hovering off the bed just enough to miss the sheets as your spit strings onto the wooden floor.
He lets out a deep moan, mumbling to himself about how wet and warm your mouth is, but not directly speaking to you. How could he speak to you after what you pulled earlier? Why would you deserve praise for going out and prancing around like that with your friends, basically slutting yourself out for them?
What you do deserve is the harsh thrusts of his hips as he fucks your mouth, pulling your hair harshly as he keeps your head in place while his cock suffocates you. You try to breathe through your nose, but you only choke and whine around him as tears blur your vision, not like you can see much in the dark, anyways.
He groans louder, thrusts harder, grips harder, all while you lay there and take it. He lets out a particularly loud moan as he pulls your head towards him, shoving your face far enough to touch your nose to his pubic bone, and then he’s cumming down your throat.
His hips are still as he twirls strands of your hair between his fingers, holding you in place as his release fills your mouth.
Finally pulling out, he breathes heavily before stuffing himself back into his sweats. He makes his way to the bathroom, situating himself before coming back to bed and wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close enough to be his little spoon. It confuses you, but you’d rather have this than have him stay angry at you.
“Thank you, pretty.”
✶.
The next day goes by smoothly, Heeseung acts completely normal when he goes to work for a couple hours, then coming home as you prepare lunch.
You’re glad he has work early enough for him to be done by the afternoon, but sometimes you wish he could stay in bed with you just a little longer than leaving at 5am, but at least he gets to come back at 1pm and spend the rest of the day how he pleases. You quickly learn though, that today he decides to use the day as he pleases by pleasing himself.
As you put ramen to boil and chop vegetables, humming a random song to yourself, you hear the front door shut. It doesn’t slam, so you know Heeseung isn’t angry, at least not enough to show it.
He walks up behind you, grabbing onto your waist and you smile, turning around for a kiss. He grips your chin, turning your face back to the counter and speaks lowly in your ear. “Keep chopping.” His voice is stern and you know he’s serious.
You hesitantly pick up the knife again, slowly cutting the vegetables as he pulls down your pants, panties going along with them, leaving you bare and exposed for him. It was only last night he was using you for himself, maybe he’s repaying the favor?
That idea is quickly shut down as you feel his tip prodding at your not very wet entrance, wincing at the stretch of the head doing its best to make its way between your folds. Of course you’ve both have had sex without foreplay before, but that was after a while of kissing and obvious arousal.
This time, he fills you up dry with only his precum coating your walls. You whine at the pain, stepping closer to the counter in an attempt to get away from him, but he only manhandles you back towards him.
Pulling out to the tip, he gives you a second to breathe before he pushes himself all the way back in, continuing with rough thrusts. He lands a loud slap to your ass, leaning forward and biting onto your shoulder. You cry out in pain, trying to take his cock the best you can while he uses you once again.
He’s fucking you, skin to skin, so that must mean he’s not upset anymore. You try to convince yourself as he thrusts harder, hands bruising your waist and hips as his knuckles turn white from holding you so tight.
He’s more vocal this time, moaning into your ear as you bounce between him and the counter top, knife now laying further away from you and vegetables roll off the counter, landing with a hard thud on the floor.
You moan as he picks up the pace almost inhumanly fast, wet sounds showing signs that you’re finally aroused enough, the slide of his cock against your walls is no longer painful.
He pushes your upper half forward more, fully bending you over the counter as he lands a harsh slap against your ass, echoing through the kitchen along with your high pitched moans.
His thighs slap against the back of your own, wet and covered in slick as you can’t hold back the squelching noises your pussy makes while being stuffed full.
“Oh God, Hee…” You whine but he’s tired of hearing you, placing his palm over your mouth to muffle your moans. “I don’t wanna hear it.” This confuses you, mainly because he’s always loved hearing your noises—proof that he’s pleasing you right. But now, he suddenly doesn’t want to hear them? Going as far as covering your mouth to shut you up?
Even with this hurt side of you, the pleasure is undeniable and before you can process it, you’re close to orgasm as Heeseung lands another harsh slap against your ass.
“Hee-baby, I’m gonna cum!” You pant heavily, inhaling a deep breath in preparation for your orgasm, only for it to be taken away from you. “No you’re not.” Heeseung slides his wet cock out of you, instead spreading your ass and pushing himself between your cheeks.
You scoff, now frustrated and in pain, wondering if this is what blue balls must feel like. You try to reach back and slide him back in, but he grips your wrist, pulling both of your arms back so your cheek lands harshly onto the counter top. Wincing, tears start pricking your eyes and you try to squirm away from him.
“Not letting you…d-don’t deserve to cum.” He grits through his teeth, pushing your butt cheeks together tightly as he thrusts, still keeping his fast pace.
Leaning forward, he rests his forehead between your shoulder blades, finally releasing as ropes of cum spurt out of his tip, landing across your back and staining your shirt, some reaching your hair to find in a sticky mess later.
You’re both panting, catching your breaths after whatever kind of rough, angry sex session that was. Still confused, you try to turn around, calling out to your quiet boyfriend. “Heeseung…” your voice is soft and comforting, and as much as he wants to accept it, he just keeps you turned around.
“Just- don’t.” That’s all he says before tucking himself back into his jeans and walking upstairs. The bathroom door shuts, still not slamming, but you can now tell that he is definitely still angry at you.
✶.
“So, what? He’s upset that we helped you and now you guys are having hot steamy hate sex?” Jake laughs to himself, taking a bowl of ramen from Sunghoon. A bowl of ramen you cooked for Heeseung.
You sigh, playing with your own ramen as you push it around the bowl with your chopsticks. “Yeah…I was cooking this when he came home and he just…did that.” You trail off at the end, not wanting to go into detail because no matter how good it felt, you were still hurt.
“Waitwaitwait.” Jay mutters with his mouth full, swallowing harshly before speaking again. “This ramen doesn’t have a special ingredient, right? His cum shot didn’t fly into here and now I’m consuming his babies?”
“Dude! What the fuck is wrong with you!?”
“Come on- I’m trying to eat here!”
“You’re actually disgusting.”
Sunghoon gags as he imagines the scene playing out, downing his glass of water to calm himself. You pat him on the back as he keeps gagging, mainly to piss off Jay who now regrets what he said.
“Okay, Hoon. You can stop now, I get it.” Jay rolls his eyes, picking up his beer bottle and taking a sip while sending glares towards his friend.
Your face drops to your palms, sighing again as you think about these past two days. “He left like an hour before I invited you guys over.” You speak up, eyes teary as you bite your lip. “He didn’t eat…didn’t say goodbye…he just left.” You break down, a sob escaping your lips at the thought of your boyfriend leaving you so alone and embarrassed.
“Do you know what this means?” Sunghoon places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly to ease your tension. You shake your head no, confused as to what he’s implying.
He sighs, looking between Jake and Jay, then back at you. “This means you’re going to have to choose.” Your eyes widen, shaking your head more aggressively now.
“What do you mean choose?” You can’t believe they’d recommend something like this. “You know, choose if you want to stay with him. Let him treat you like that, let him get away with those things.”
He grabs your hand, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Or you can choose to stay with us. Keep being our friend, let us save you from this disaster.” His words hurt, but you know they must be true. “He just…” you inhale a shaky breath, “He just needs time. We’ll figure something out.”
Yeah, that’ll fix it. You’ll figure out a way to keep Heeseung happy and stay close to your best friends. Hopefully, without cutting any ties or creating an awkward atmosphere. But you’ll do whatever it takes to keep each of your boys happy.
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Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 3
Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?
Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)
Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁
Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Dirty thoughts, bit of dirty talk. More lusting. 😁
Word Count: 2,064
A/N: Here's Ch. 3. This one's a bit shorter, but I hope you enjoy it just the same! ❤️
Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists
"Miss Y/N!" The frustrated voice of little Lucy Winchester called Y/N back to the present.
"I'm sorry, Lucy, my mind was off on a wander. What do you need?"
"I said my laces are untied." Lucy said, lifting her little foot and plunking it into Y/N's lap. "Where was your mind wandering?"
Y/N's face went red and she knew she could never truthfully tell this darling, innocent little girl that her thoughts had been completely occupied with a pair of burning green eyes and a wicked mouth.
"I was hoping that you might go gather as many daisies as you possibly could for me. There's a big patch of them just at the bottom of the hill, see?"
Lucy nodded and ran off, her chubby little legs churning. Y/N worried for a minute that she'd end up going head over heels down the little hill. But she managed to stay upright and settle herself in the patch of daisies to start collecting.
Y/N had to shake her head. She had been reliving the previous night over and over again. Every touch, every press of Dean's lips against hers had been streaming through her mind without ceasing. Her dreams had been filled with his strong, nimble fingers running themselves over her body and his mouth, warm and wet, following the trail. She had woken with a gasp, her body sweaty and shaking. She didn't even try to go back to sleep. She was too jittery and tense, like there was an itch she couldn't scratch.
She'd been restless all day and she'd finally suggested to Lucy that they come outside and get some fresh air. It wasn't helping her very much.
She bowed out of supper that night. There was no way she would be able to sit across the table from Dean and still manage to eat anything. Sophie was kind enough to bring a tray to her bedroom, but Y/N simply didn't have the appetite.
She had come to a decision and she was desperate for midnight to come.
At the last chime of the grandfather clock in the hall, Y/N checked on Lucy before slipping out of the nursery and heading down the stairs to reach the guest bedroom where Dean was staying.
She was grateful that Jessica and Sam slept in a suite on the opposite side of the house upstairs. They were unlikely to hear her. She'd already decided that if they happened to catch her, she would tell them she couldn't sleep and had gone to the library for a book.
But she met no one as she approached Dean's door. She looked around furtively in the dark, making sure no one was watching. She stood for a moment more, considering turning around and running right back to her room. But instead she knocked almost silently on the door.
It opened and she dashed inside without even looking at Dean. She got to the middle of the spacious room and stopped. She heard the door click behind her and turned around to see Dean leaning against it. He turned the key in the lock and she swallowed hard.
He wore black pants with the suspenders hanging at his hips and a white short sleeved undershirt that hugged tight to his broad shoulders, and showed Y/N the thick, ropey muscles in his arms. His hair was tousled and a little damp as though he'd just washed it. He wore his crooked smile and his eyes bore into her from across the room. They were so dark a green they looked like jade. He had his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the door and Y/N knew that she would picture him like this, always.
"I didn't think you'd come." He said, his voice a low, quiet rumble. He pushed away from the door and came to where she stood, frozen in place.
He studied her for a minute, his head cocked slightly to the side before stepping away abruptly. "You need alcohol."
He crossed over to his dresser; on top, a few decanters of different colored liquids sparkled in the candlelight.
Y/N shook her head. "I don't drink."
He poured something golden into a glass and brought it to her. "Well, it's a night for firsts." He said, smiling slowly as he handed her the glass.
Y/N swallowed hard before taking a sip of the drink. She promptly broke into a fit of coughing. The alcohol felt like swallowing fire. After the coughing ceased however, Y/N could feel a steadying kind of warmth spreading through her stomach and she took another sip, gasping as it burned its way down her throat.
She gave the remainder back to Dean and turned away from him, moving to sit on the window seat that faced his bed as well as the door beyond it. She tried to ignore the bed and focus on the door.
Dean set the glass back down and walked toward her again. She held up a hand and he stopped about two feet away from her. She took a deep breath.
"I've come here because I have a favor to ask."
He crossed his arms again and stared down at her. "I thought you were here because I won the bet."
"That's right." Y/N said, her breath hitched in her throat. "I lost and you requested that I come here tonight at midnight. So, I am here, and my debt is paid."
She chanced a look at him. He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then suddenly, he chuckled. "You're right. I'll have to make sure my next request is very…detailed."
His expression made her shiver and her body screamed at her to ask him for his next request. So she spoke quickly before her wantonness could win over her better nature.
"So, my favor is this, if I tell you that you've won, will you stop trying to seduce me?"
Dean looked surprised and took a moment before answering her with a question. "What do you mean, 'if you tell me I've won'?"
Y/N looked down at her twisted hands in her lap. "I mean that you're doing this as a game, yes? Doing it to see if you can win over the proper little spinster, if you can convince me to abandon my morals and give into hedonism with you? Isn't that what you want?"
In spite of her stomach twisting itself into knots she held Dean's penetrating gaze. She watched surprise and then anger creep into his expression.
"No, not really." He said, his voice low and somewhat intimidating.
Y/N gave him a disbelieving look, her voice scornful. "Oh, really? Then what exactly do you want."
He strode up to her and tipped up her chin with his forefinger. He spoke slowly, but without hesitation. "Actually, what I want, is to pull off these clothes that hide you from me, toss you onto my bed and touch, kiss and lick every inch of your soft, yielding flesh until I have you calling out my name and begging for a release only I can give you."
Y/N's breath came quick and fast, and she couldn't slow it down; her heart beat so fast she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. Her skin was flushed and covered in gooseflesh, and her stomach tightened in a way that made her long to acquiesce to every word he just said.
His eyes were now a deep forest green and they bore into hers for a moment more before he shrugged and moved back to lean against one of his bedposts. "You wanted details."
Y/N shook her head and brought her hands, which were like ice, to her cheeks to cool the fiery blush that she now wore.
"Please." She said, aware that she sounded as if she was begging, and maybe she was. "I have nothing."
She raised her eyes back to his, hoping to make him understand.
"I am nearly twenty six years old. I am very firmly on the shelf, I know, well past marriageable age. But there is this ridiculous part of me that can't stop hoping."
She sighed and looked back down at her lap. "I want a home of my own, children that are mine to raise, and a husband who is kind and compatible. But in addition to my spinsterhood, I would come into any marriage with absolutely nothing to offer. I have no status, no money, no dowry of any kind, no good name, no position in society. I have nothing to offer a future husband except…" She paused and blushed harder. "…my…virtue. All I have to give him is my chastity. It's all I have left."
She looked back into his eyes, wanting him to understand the truth in her words. "But you want me to throw that away on someone who will be gone in less than a week. You will forget me in a day, and I will live with the consequences of this one night for the rest of mine. So…"
She paused again and took a deep breath. "So, I came here tonight to tell you that you have won. You have made me dream about you, fantasize about you. You've made me long to kiss you, you've made me understand just what a kiss should be. My skin is always on fire and longing to feel your touch."
Y/N looked into Dean's clear, warm gaze and admitted, "I want you, Dean. I want you to do all the things you just mentioned, and a million more things that are only half-formed in my mind. So you win. And now I'm asking you to please respect my wishes and stop. Pass these last few days with your family and allow me to go about my life."
Dean was silent for a long time, head cocked and staring into her. Y/N held his gaze as long as she could before the intensity was too much and she turned her head away.
Dean came and sat beside her on the window seat and she jumped up and bolted away from him, out of instinct, out of self-preservation.
Dean looked hurt. "Do you really think I'm going to attack you, or molest you in some way?"
She shook her head fiercely. "No! Not in the slightest. If that was the kind of man you were, you've had plenty of opportunities before tonight." She shook her head again, "No, Dean. I am afraid of myself when you're so close. I'm afraid I'll attack you."
Dean gave a small smile. "You can't possibly believe what you're saying. You can't possibly think that your virginity is all you have to offer some unknown future husband."
Y/N merely shrugged.
Dean stood up and moved a step toward her. Y/N took two steps backwards towards the door.
He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Fine, Y/N. If you don't want to be pursued, I won't pursue you. I'll leave you alone, you have my word. But I want you to remember something long after I'm gone from here."
He walked forward a few more steps and Y/N backed herself up against the door. He reached her and caught her chin in his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. The perfect planes and angles of his face were set into an expression of intensity.
"You have so much more to offer. You are extraordinarily beautiful. You are witty and warm. You have a kind and compassionate heart. You deserve something more than a compatible husband and a cottage somewhere. You deserve more than mere contentment."
He paused and brushed his thumb lightly across her bottom lip. "You deserve passion and romance. You deserve joy and excitement, adventure and enrichment. You should live in luxury, and have a life that fulfills you. I wish all of those things for you and more."
He leaned down and pressed an all too brief kiss to Y/N's lips, before reaching around her to turn the key and open the door for her.
She ran out and up the stairs before she could wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to grant all of those wishes for her.
Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:
@lyarr24
@lacilou
@deans-spinster-witch
@globetrotter28
@suckitands33
@alwaystiredandconfused
@evznackles
@jackles010378
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@envyaurora95
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@deans-baby-momma
@luvr4miya
@arcannaa
@viviwatchestv
@winharry
Dean Fics Only:
@roonthelittlespoon920
@slamminmine
@zepskies
@safiyas-world
@aylacavebear
Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:
@kazsrm67
@slut-for-evans-stan
@sexyvixen7
@nancymcl
@hobby27
@waywardcheshire
Everything Incl. Fan Edits:
@k-slla
@leigh70
@eevvvaa
@kickingitwithkirk
@foxyjwls007
@notinthislife50
@roseblue373
@mishkatelwarriorgoddess
@avanatural
@mrsjenniferwinchester
@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone
@deangirl96
@stoneyggirl2
#dean x reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester au#dean winchester au fan fic#dean winchester au fan fic series#dean winchester x reader
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Thank you to @heartstringsduet & @liminalmemories21 for tagging me in a revival of Fic Rec Friday! I wasn't sure what fics to pick for this one so I went through my history on AO3 and here are all of the completed 911LS fics that I read (or re-read) in the month of May!! (if I also added the WIPs or the fics from other fandoms we'd be here all night so I narrowed it down 😅)
◆ Meet me in the afterglow by @mi1kc0ffee (Words: 2.9K; Rating: E)
So maybe Carlos is just a bit upset that his new boyfriend isn’t into cuddling after sex.
Or, TK experiences aftercare for the first time.
◆ The Shadow of You by @littlemissmarianna (Words: 798; Rating: G; TW: discussion of grief & canon character death)
TK should be safe in the grocery store, and yet, Carlos feels himself begin to panic when aisle after aisle turns up empty. The cans and boxes are in perfect rows on each shelf, and the strangers seem friendly enough when Carlos passes by them…but TK has vanished.
◆ Hold me too close by @paperstorm (Words: 1.8K; Rating: T; TW: discussion of grief & canon character death)
“Hey, baby,” TK whispers, soft enough that were they a few inches further apart Carlos might not be able to hear him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Carlos’s lips curve into a small responding smile and he shakes his head. “It’s okay.”
He tilts his chin forward, asking for a kiss, that TK gives him readily because he thinks it would hurt like having a limb ripped off if he didn’t. Carlos’s lips are smooth and damp against his, wet with the salt from his tears.
“Wanna go for a walk?” TK asks when they part, and Carlos quickly nods.
-
A small extension of the scene after Tommy sings at their wedding.
◆ Five fingers on each hand by @sloganeeer (Words: 323; Rating: G)
Carlos didn’t put a shirt on last night, after, and TK gets to rubs his palm over the short curls of Carlos’s chest hair. “You wanna?” he asks.
-
Or, TK wakes up with his husband.
◆ love in a series of bursts and inches by @lemonlyman-dotcom (Words: 35K; Rating: G)
It’s Eid 2024 and Tarlos is preparing to host Marjan and her parents for a celebratory dinner at the loft, where they will be meeting Joe for the first time. Over the night before and morning of Eid, both TK and Marjan reflect on the past four years in Austin, and the Eids they’ve spent together building a bond as found family.
◆ breathing deeper than i've ever done by @your-catfish-friend (Words: 4.6K; Rating: E; sweat/scent kink)
Carlos smells good, and TK has feelings about it.
◆ Silence and Gloom by @wandering-night19 (Words: 13K; Rating: T; TW: PTSD, physical abuse, aftermath of torture & violence)
Carlos is fine. So he wishes TK would stop looking at him with those wide, green eyes like he's something fragile that might shatter at any moment. He's fine.
◆ all is not lost by @strandnreyes (Words: 14K; Rating: M; TW: brief discussion of grief & canon character death)
As they tear through the loft, Carlos gets flashbacks to when he had to do the same for a lost lizard. Twice. Except this time it’s not a reptile, but a very expensive engagement ring that doesn’t even belong to them. They flip cushions and roll rugs and dig through the dishes filled with pretzels or chocolate covered almonds, but even after their home looks like a tornado ripped through it, they’re still empty handed.
TK slumps down on the living room floor after a last ditch effort to look under the couch, staring up at Carlos with wide, horrified eyes. “The ring is gone,” he mutters, and all Carlos can do is swallow past his dry throat and nod.
Or, a tale of three lost rings
◆ The Rest of the World Was Black and White (But We Were in Screaming Color) by reyestrand (Words: 9K; Rating: T)
TK Strand doesn’t like the world he lives in. The best part of his day is at night when he closes his eyes so he can’t see anything, and the worst part is in the morning when he has to open them again - open them back up to a world that lacks in beauty.
He wakes up and everything is just gray. All there is are shades that are making him numb every day that passes without meeting the one person who will bring color into his world.
- A soulmates AU where the world is seen in black and white until soulmates share their first kiss
◆ Thirst Trap Thursday by @chicgeekgirl89 (Words: 40K; Rating: M)
When Carlos accidentally sends a sexy picture to a random stranger he apologizes and vows never to text again. But when T.K. Strand receives that picture, he can't help but start texting back.
It starts with a thirst trap. It ends with love.
◆ You Keep Coming Back With a Bird In Your Teeth by vaguenotion (Words: 133K; Rating: T; TW: kidnapping, stalking, violence, non-consensual touching)
When a gesture of goodwill is misinterpreted, a patient begins to develop a dangerous attachment to TK.
The whole point of the job is to save patients, not to have to be saved FROM them.
◆ The Greatest Gift I’ve Found, The Sweetest Thing I’ve Known by @lemonlyman-dotcom (Words: 7.3K; Rating: E)
“You know, there’s a lot of things to adore about TK. But do you know the thing we love the most about him?” He makes a questioning noise. She points a finger into the dimple in his cheek. “This.”
He furrows his brow in question.
“Oh, I’ve known you for thirty years, niñito.” He bites back his quip about how he’s not 30 yet, wanting to know where she’s going with this. “But I’ve never seen that smile, not until about four years ago.”
“When I met TK.”
“When you met TK.” She nods. “We all knew something was different. Even if it took you a while to work up the courage to bring him around. You seemed so light, so happy. We knew something had happened.”
He looks over to where TK is chatting away with his abuelita.
“He’s a special person,” Carlos says.
“He is, but honey. So are you,” Lucy grips his bicep softly. “We love you, Carlitos, and I’m sorry that we ever made you feel like you had to hide any of your specialness from us.”
---
Nochebuena at the Reyes house. It's Tarlos's first Christmas as husbands, and the family's first without Gabriel.
#911 lone star fic recs#fic recs#fic rec list#fic rec friday#tarlos fic#yay!! I kinda love that this is almost like my monthly book wrap ups but for lone star fics LOL#and I hadn't realized i didnt leave comments on a couple of these!! BOO at me#I need to get better at leaving comments! someone yell at me when I just reblog fics and dont comment!#ETA I FORGOT ONE FROM TODAY!! but it was so good so I had to include it!
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Romy Fic: Intrusive Thoughts
Rating: T for suggestiveness and one bare ass ;)
Summary: Taking place during XM #4 post-Basketball game. How exactly does Remy get Rogue to agree to go on a date?
Notes: Next piece in my canon series. Wanted to write about how we got from the charged (literally and figuratively) basketball game to Rogue agreeing to actually go out with him. Thus this scene was born. Also, it was an excuse to write Remy in the shower. ;) Thanks @ludi-ling for the beta!
I decided I'm adding a panel to go along with each entry...
****
Intrusive Thoughts
Remy LeBeau is in the shower, deep in thought. It had been a hot day but that hadn’t stopped them from playing a good game. It had almost felt like being among friends instead of teammates. Who would have guessed Jubilee would be good for his ego? And showing up the Wolverine is always a plus. The physicality had felt good, so much more satisfying than the drills in the Danger Room the professor made them run. Even as the game intensified, it had all been in playful fun. They had been accepting of him more than he realized.
Unintentionally, his mind starts to drift. Starts to dig around in the dark parts that he prefers to keep hidden. They tolerate him now, but if they knew…? There are so many factors that may come into play, so many that may blow over his carefully stacked house of cards. The Thieves’ Guild, would they take him back? (It’s been long enough - surely they would welcome him home?) Sinister might want another favor. (The screams of those poor mutants still keep him up at night). Belladonna… (He doesn’t want to think of Belladonna… How long has it been since they’ve spoken? How long has it been since they’ve touched…).
He closes his eyes, trying to reach out onto something that isn’t connected to his past. She is the first thing that enters his mind. Rogue. She has been on his mind constantly since he had arrived at the mansion. A welcome distraction to the darkening intrusive thoughts that have been haunting him lately.
Stormy had brought him to the X-Men, misguided faith that she had in him. And it’s been nice, for a while, pretending to be the hero. Pretending that there is some actual good in the world he could do. Pretending that this might be a family worth keeping. He knows his track record though, and if he was to be smart about it, he’d take off and not look back. It’d be better for them in the long run. Maybe better for him, too.
For as much as he feels the need to go, he doesn’t. Because she’s there. A beacon of light enticing him. A smirk climbs on his lips as he thinks back to the court, about holding her in his arms, about what it would be like if she were really under him. Or above him. Or anywhere close to him would do. The beautiful apple of Eden; forbidden to touch despite knowing how sinfully delicious the taste would be. He knows better, he does. But she’s not just another pretty girl. There’s something more going on with this one. He just doesn’t know what it is yet.
…Or maybe he does just have a death wish.
He turns the shower to cold, needing to cool off. They are, after all, community showers.
The sound of a muffled jazz song floats through the air. Intrigued, he finishes his shower. He then grabs a towel off the rack, giving himself a quick dry down, before wrapping it loosely on his hips. If he’s hearing it right, the music is coming from the room next door. And he knows whose that is. He steals a quick look in the mirror, grinning at his own form, wondering how she will react when she sees him.
Just his luck, Rogue’s bedroom door is wide open and welcoming. The stereo on her dresser is playing a slow, soulful tune as she sits curled up on her armchair, reading a book. She’s changed out of her uniform, and looking relaxed in a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. God have mercy on his soul. She doesn’t have to do a thing to be breathtaking. Wanting her is a constant state he doesn’t mind having to contend with.
She’s so buried in her book that she doesn’t notice him standing there, casually leaning up against the doorframe. He takes a moment, just to watch her, just to enjoy the wonderful creature that she is before he lets himself be known.
“That a good book, chere?” he asks.
Startled, she looks up, finally noticing he’s there. Her eyes bulge when she sees him, in shock but not with disinterest. It’s enough to make him grin wider.
“Gambit,” she says. There’s a blush on her cheeks as she turns her head away. “You have no clothes on.”
“I was just walking by from my shower,” he says, ignoring her observation. “And heard Glen Miller on the radio. Beautiful sounds that old boy makes, I just had to stop and listen.” He takes a step into the bedroom. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t stop him. “Surprises me, though. Figured you’d be the type who’d like something a little more…country.”
She rolls her eyes at him, but smiles. “I’m allowed to like more than one thing, you know.”
“So, country isn’t off the table?”
She bites her lip, looking towards the ceiling as he walks in a little further. “What do you actually want, Gambit?”
He comes in close and leans over, nearly whispering in her ear. “You already know what I want,” he says. Her entire body tenses as he lingers over her. He makes her nervous. He enjoys that he makes her nervous. He knows when to push and he knows when to stop. The fact that she hasn’t kicked him outright from her bedroom is a score for the day. With Rogue, it’s the long game he’s playing. “What’s this book that has you so engrossed?”
“Oh,” she finally faces him, surprised. “It’s nothing.”
“A Duchess in Need,” he says, intrigued by the title. “A romance book?”
“I doubt you have any real interest in my book.”
“Nothing wrong with a good romance book.” he licks his lips. “I find them inspiring.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“So, you wouldn’t mind me having a look?” He makes a grab for the book. She tears it away, just out of reach. He goes for it again, this time using both hands. The lunge forward causes the towel drop.
“Gambit!” she cries, dropping the book in order to cover her eyes. She’s scandalized but he doesn’t much care as he scoops down to pick up the towel and grab the book. He loosely holds the towel up to cover himself as he flips open the book. He knows his ass is hanging bare. He knows, as she peeks through her fingers, that she can see it in the reflection of the vanity mirror. He wants her to.
“Oh, this be a dirty book,” he says, very amused as he starts reading. “Her lips tremble and quiver with desire…”
“Gambit, give it back.” She jumps out of her seat, attempting to get the book out of his hands.
“His manhood throbs in her hand...”
“Gambit, I swear, I’ll…”
“She finally submits to her lust.”
“Gimme that.” She finally tears it from his hands, pulling it close to her chest. “I get that this may seem silly to you, but I’m allowed to enjoy my books.”
He may have pushed a little too far this time. She is more closed off than ever, holding herself tightly, her eyes once again looking off in the distance. Only this time there is anger. “Chere, this book - it’s no good for you.”
“Why? Because they should only be reserved for perverts like you?” Her voice is sharp. Cutting.
“Because it isn’t real romance,” he says. It’s the seriousness in his voice that gets her to pay attention. Up until now it’s been all flirty games and teasing words. Most women he’s encountered, that’s all they need. Not Rogue. She’s going to need more. How far is he willing to go? He isn’t sure. But he knows there’s something stirring in his heart. Something he can’t quite figure out.
He wants her. He’s known that much since the day he met her. But he’s learning he may want all of her. And that’s a much more dangerous game to play.
“Like you know what real romance is,” she spits out.
“I do.” He takes a moment to pull the towel fully around his hips, securing it tightly. The gesture is not lost on her. “We get dressed up nice. I take you to a nice dinner. We can find some live jazz and dance in the moonlight. We can talk…”
“And then?”
He gives her a suggestive glance. “And then I take you home like a proper gentleman.”
She scoffs at him. “I doubt that.”
“Your call, chere.” He plays it nonchalant, but his chips are all in.
A long moment passes. Her eyes flicker as the wheels turn in her mind. It’s like he can see them. Whatever she’s thinking…
“Okay,” she says carefully.
“Okay?” He almost can’t believe it.
“But if you try anything, I’ll break you in two.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
He turns to leave, knowing that her eyes are lingering on him, and smiles.
#xmen#x men#rogue#gambit#anna marie lebeau#remy lebeau#romy#rogue and gambit#roguegambit#s.o. writes things#i need to come up with a name for this particular series
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King! Steve Harrington and Personal Knight! Eddie Munson
Pairing: Steddie x reader
Genre: kinda fluff, smut
Warnings: arranged marriage, intimidation (but nothing to worry about), flirting, implied smut, boys kissing
———
Here you stood. Three steps down the throne. Parents on either side of you. King Harrington at the center, his parents whom stepped down on either side of him, and King Harrington’s personal knight on his right.
You practically shook, like a baby deer in ice, as your parents introduced you. You’d just turned 19 and Harrington 21.
He hasn’t chosen a wife yet so his parents threw a Presentation Ball, where nearby kingdoms would bring their of age daughters and show them off to the newly made king. And he looked bored as he observed the presenters and presentees. But, unbeknownst to you, you seemed to have caught his eye, as well as his knight’s.
Harrington’s parents seemed disinterested and waved you lot off, calling out to the next. You own parents grumbled all the way down the stairs and to your assigned table, scolding you once settled and fixing your clothes. They mouthed that this dress was not modest enough, but also not attractive enough at the same time. You’ve disappointed them and lost a chance for your parents to become allies with the Harrington royal family.
You watched the rest of the presenters go up and down, about 15 of you in total. You watched how the four of them interacted, which ones his parents approved of and which ones they didn’t. King Harrington hadn’t given away much emotion, only communicating with his personal knight through a series of subtle hand gestures. But what you failed to notice the is glancing, how both of the men watched you sit beside yourself and nervously fiddle with the jewels on your dress.
Once everyone presenter was sat, King Harrington and his parents discuss the suitors quietly to themselves so that the people below do not hear them. They seem to be disagreeing on something but King Harrington seems to be standing his ground on whatever decision he has made.
Once the bickering is over, they tell their decision to the castle staff that was placed as Announcer today. He steps forward and catches the attention of the 15 families below.
“The royal family of Forestside,” The announcer calls out. “Please step forward.”
Your parents gawk for a few moments before getting up and rushing you forward, standing at the bottom of the stairs. They await, rather impatiently.
“Your daughter has been chosen by the royal Harrington family to be his newly wed,” He says. “King and Queen, you may stay here for three days time for the wedding and it’s preparations, then you will leave your daughter here once you leave. Do you accept?”
You parents graciously accept.
The announcer nods, “We will get your settled in the visitors wing of the castle. And set off the rest of the presenters.”
Castle staff file in and lead the other families out and to their ships while some more comes and lead you three to a room in the visitors wing.
Once on the bedroom, some of your parents’ personal staff rushes in and got them settled for the night, congratulating them. And one they were settled in bed, some of your personal staff guided you to the bathroom and took care of you. They knew how scared you were and reassured you that they’ve heard some very nice things about King Harrington from the other staff of the castle. They got you settled into the other bed in the room and bid you a goodnight and that they would see you in the morning.
The next three days pass by quickly and by now you’re running on steam and nerves. You hadn’t been sleeping good.
The wedding and it’s preparations went well, and you said goodbye to your parents soon after. Your staff got you settled in King Harrington’s quarters the night after the wedding.
King Harrington, or Steve as he said for you to call him, seemed nice, charming even. He’d kept the conversations friendly and comfortable, trying to get to know you.
His knight, Eddie Munson, was nice as well. He was practically Steve’s shadow and was slowly becoming yours as well.
Both men got you settled comfortably, and about a month after the wedding is went the flirting started. Steve started it, and you only noticed when he became more touchy. And the more you noticed the flirting, the more you noticed that the men seemed to flirt with each other as well, only when there weren’t prying eyes around.
When you seemed to reciprocate Steve’s flirting, Eddie started as well. He poked and prodded. You quickly became overwhelmed with both men hitting on you practically all day and every day.
The flirting became kissing and the kissing became rather inappropriate touches, from you in private and from the men practically everywhere they could get away with it. Sometimes you were with just Steve, other times with Eddie, and other times both at the same time.
And that brings you to now.
You’d just gotten back from whatever important duty you’d personally been called to. You’d longed to be back in bed, having been woken up before the sun today. But you encountered a sight.
Steve and Eddie on your shared bed, making out. Or rather Steve sitting on the bed and Eddie hovering over him, obviously overpowering the other man as he had a hand squeezing around his neck. Both were oblivious to the door squeaking open, but whipped their heads open when the door thud shut.
Eddie’s panicked gaze softened when he saw you and he stood up to his full height. And Steve blinked quite a few times, obviously a little kiss drunk.
“You wanna join us?” Eddie asked, making his way to you. “We just barely started.”
“Oh umm,” You twiddled your fingers. “Sure!”
The king and the knight had embraced you in their arms almost instantly. They took their time with you, offering you pleasure before chasing after their own. It was well into the night before anyone had settled down.
When one of the maids had come in the next morning to wake the King for royal business, she had only smiled and backed out. She figured whatever important duty summoned the King could wait for a few more hours.
--- --- ---
A/N: Sorry for no explicit scenes :/ But the point comes across..
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#king! steve harrington#knight! eddie munson#stranger things x reader#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x reader#stranger things imagines#steve harrington imagines#eddie munson imagines#aj posts
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The Shadowsinger: Twenty
Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Canon-level violence (blood, gore, fighting, killing, death), mentions of SA, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!
Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary: You compete in the Blood Rite.
Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.
My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!
Series Masterlist
Fifteen - Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen
Day 1
Your eyes were heavy as you opened them, feeling the cold snow covered ground beneath you. You should have been freaking out, should have been getting up to run already. But the only thing that was running through your mind was, “Mate, he’s your mate. Mate… Azriel’s your mate.”
Out of all the times, why was now the time it decided to snap? Did the Mother know you were going to die here and wanted to play a cruel trick on you? If that was the case, you hope it didn’t snap for him like it had for you. Did you see a flash of gold in his eyes before you passed out or was that the gloriella you breathed in?
You couldn’t think about that right now. Your wings were bound, your head was heavy, your Siphon gone, and your shadows nowhere to be seen. You took in a deep breath, the cold air waking you up bit by bit. You rose your head and noticed a few others around you stirring. You had to get out of here. Now.
You scrambled to your feet as quick as you could, stumbling a little. No weapons were allowed in the Rite but these males were much much bigger than you. Even though you’ve been building up your strength, and learning how to easily overpower them, you knew it would only take you so far. Especially without your fae strength or senses.
You ran towards the tree line, needing to get out of sight if you could. You were glad that you had your cloak and fighting leathers on when you fell asleep last night. You weren’t sure how anyone could survive in anything else.
You ducked behind a tree, finding a low hanging branch and snapping it off as quickly as you could. You could use it as a weapon if you needed to. But your main priority was to survive this. If that meant hiding out in a cave for the week, you would do it.
You noticed more males rising and starting to fight each other. Some for clothes. Others because of revenge and old grudges. You steadied your breathing, slowly turning around to only come face to chest with a male that was near Cassian’s size.
“What do we have here? A little female trying to play warrior?” He teased. If he made any more noise you could easily be surrounded. You wished you had at least one ally here. But you were completely alone. You didn’t even know this male and came to the conclusion that he was probably from another camp. You cursed yourself for not visiting the other ones to see what you were up against.
But you stood your ground, holding onto the broken tree branch. While your main focus was on the towering male standing before you, you were also looking for ways to get out. Preferably without killing him. Azriel and Cassian both taught you how to knock out someone with hitting the right pressure points. But you were still slightly drugged. And this guy was huge.
“Not going to say anything?” He sneered, stepping forward. What was his plan? Tease you to death? He should’ve been swinging already. You perked your ears up, hearing a shift in the snow behind you. Just as the male behind you went to strike your head, you ducked, causing him to hit the male in front square in the jaw. You took that as your opportunity to run. The male who teased you didn’t seem too happy with his companion and started a brawl with him instead. You rolled your eyes. Males. Maybe you would make it out of this alive after all.
You made it far away from anyone else, choosing to go north since you knew that was the most difficult way to get to the mountain and not many males would choose to bother with it. But that also meant you had to find shelter in the deadlier part of the forest, so you quickly made your way to a stream, drinking as much water as you could and finding a sharp rock for you to hold on to. You would sharpen the tree branch into a spear tonight. You wouldn’t be getting much sleep this next week, so you knew you needed to keep yourself busy, dry, warm, and fed. It was about survival. Not being a hero. You repeated the two things you promised Azriel over and over again.
First, I will survive. Then, I’ll make my way to the mountain.
You added a third thing, for yourself.
I will see my mate again.
It quickly shortened to Survive. Mountain. Mate. Like a mantra in your mind as you trekked north. You kept hidden, either up in the trees or between rocks, when you heard others walking or fighting nearby. If you could avoid all of them for the whole week, you would survive.
Survive. Mountain. Mate.
Surprisingly, you didn’t run into another male that day. You killed two rabbits, made a very very small fire to cook them, and then found a cave to hunker down for the night.
That was the easiest day of the week.
Day 2
Somehow, you had managed to fall asleep in the cave. And by some blessing from the Mother, you were still alive and clothed when you woke up. You narrowed your eyes, getting up with the spear you sharpened last night. You grabbed some of the rabbit you cooked, ate it quickly, and made your way to the stream. You quickly drank some of the water, and then began your trek towards Ramiel once you climbed a tree to find it. You were placed in the south, as far as you could tell.
You set your pace, not too fast and not too slow. You kept your breathing even, your grip on your spear tight. You made two smaller ones that you tucked into your fighting leathers, hoping that would be enough if someone tried to come at you.
You could tell it was early morning, and a lot of the males seemed to forget that the creatures lurking around at night were not forgiving during the Rite. You picked up a makeshift canteen that one of the other warriors made or found, and slung it around your waist. You’d find water again soon.
Or at least you were planning to when you heard someone shout and fall from a tree right in front of you, landing just a few feet from you. You cursed to yourself, you should have stayed more hidden.
“Got some fancy weapons on you there.” The brunette sneered, stepping forward. He lunged to grab your spear and you knocked him back towards the next tree.
“And they’re mine. Find your own.” You growled, narrowing your eyes.
“It would be so nice to have a female for entertainment out here the next few days, don’t you think, boys?” Your ears betrayed you as you didn’t hear the others rustling in the trees, hopping down as well. Damn human-like senses. You decided then and there that the tradition of the Blood Rite was stupid. Why send so many decent warriors into the mountains just to get killed? Maybe your sentiment was because you realized you didn’t have much chance of taking down five Illyrians that had at least a few inches on you. And many pounds of muscle.
But you steadied yourself anyway, readying for the fight that was going to come any second now. The one behind you lunged, and you stepped out of the way, ducking as the one to your left tried to grab you. They ran into each other and gave you just enough time so you could hit the brunette with the tip of your spear, sending him backwards as his blood splayed. You counted your breaths, honing in on all of the training you’d done. You could do this.
You managed to knock all five of them to the ground, not without getting a few bruises yourself. “I’m no one’s entertainment.” You ground out to them before you sprinted north again. You were going to have to be a lot more careful. You probably should have killed them because if you ran into them again, they certainly would kill you.
You panted, coming to a stop near a stream. You filled up the canteen, drank almost the whole thing, and filled it up again before you began moving through the trees again. This time, you kept your eyes not only on the ground around you, but the trees above as well.
You walked for another hour or two, coming in contact with a few other males here and there, but most of them paid you no mind as they weren’t looking for a fight. You recognized one male, the one that was kissing Ragna in the shed. You were glad he didn't notice you as you hunched behind a tree. Still, you were afraid your luck was starting to run thin.
Just as night was about to fall, you couldn’t find a cave so you began scouting for a decent tree to climb and stay for the night. That’s when something hard hit your back and you whirled around, spear raised and ready for a fight. The sun would set soon and you would have to fight more than Illyrians if you were still down here. They had to know that.
It was the male from the first morning, chuckling to himself. “Haven’t gotten yourself killed yet?” He asked, walking towards you again. You might just kill him for his rambling mouth.
“Is this how you train to fight in your camp? With your mouth?” You asked, readying your stance.
“I bet your mouth could do some great things for me. But alas, I’m going to have to kill you first.” He said, leaping towards you. You stepped to the side, landing a blow with your spear to his leg. You remembered he had a companion earlier, but a quick glance around suggested he wasn’t with anyone. With a temper like his, he probably killed the male.
“You bitch.” He growled and landed a blow to your side. You held in your wince and stepped back before going to hit him in the head, but he caught your spear and twisted it. Your arm twisted uncomfortably with it, causing you to let out a yelp. You kicked towards his shin, pulling the spear back towards you when he stumbled back. Again, you tried hitting him, but this time he ducked and tackled you to the ground. You spear went flying just as his hands came up to your neck. You gasped as he started to strangle you. With one hand you tried forcing his grip from you, the other you grabbed one of your hidden wood stake and pulled it out, stabbing him right in the neck. His warm blood splayed into your face and his hands loosened. You pushed him off you, scrambling back as you saw him choke, eyes wide in terror as he grabbed the stake and pulled it out. You winced as that only made the bleeding worse. He fell on his side and gurgled the blood coming up his throat, choking on it.
You stood up, wiped off your pants, grabbed your spear, and began walking again. Now you had to find a new tree and get away from his dead body. You also had to get the blood off you. You found a stream, tearing part of your clock to soak it and then wash the blood from your face and leathers as best as you could. You didn't even think twice about using your cloak as a rag, knowing that once you were out of this, Rhys would probably buy you a new one. And then some. Just because.
And you knew it was only going to get harder from here.
Day 3
You didn’t sleep that night, needing to keep watch and fend away any creature that tried climbing the tree. But you were getting closer to Ramiel, and you were beginning to think maybe it was possible for you to make it to the mountain. You’d have to do it soon if you wanted to try and make it to the top. You heard that climb alone took two days. You wondered what would happen if you made it to the top before the Rite was truly over. And if they would even let you have the title that came with it.
In the morning, you found leftover food on some of the fallen males as you passed them, so you took it as your breakfast. Not getting sleep that night would severely bite you in the ass if you had to fight, but there was no way you could with the amount of screams from the Illyrians. And creatures trying to climb the tree to get you. Your wrist was soar from yesterday's fight and your neck had a splatter of bruises, but other than that, you were feeling good. If not tired.
Honestly, you were surprised you hadn’t run into more trouble. And just as you thought it, you came upon three males, taking clothes and boots off a fallen Illyrian. Freshly dead, so maybe they were the ones to do it. What a horrible way to die. To have your clothes stripped from your body and lay there for creatures of the night to devour. You shuddered at the thought. That would not be you.
You tried sneaking past them, but a branch covered in snow snapped under your feet and you cursed yourself. You fought off five Illyrians. You could fight off three.
They ran towards you, one had shaped a branch into a sword, the other two had spears like yours. What happened next was a frenzie of wood knocking against wood, blood splattering from arms and legs, and one of the males going down as you stabbed him in the gut. You let out a yell as the male with the wooden sword managed to strike you in the arm, a large gash appearing. That was going to be a bitch to keep clean and covered. You growled and whirled on him, but failed to see the other male come up behind to grab your arms, restraining you. “What do we have here? A female?” He asked, the sword’s tip at your neck. You wondered how he was able to sharpen a piece of wood like that in such little time. “I’ve heard that one of you were running around, pretending to be a warrior.”
“I think your friend would agree I’m more than pretending.” You jeered, his friend’s body lay behind you, blood pooling around your boots.
The tip of the sword pressed closer to your neck and the male restraining you spoke into your ear, “I’d be careful what you say.” He growled.
“We could kill you. Or keep you for ourselves to use the next few days.” He said and smirked. “Wouldn’t even have to feed you, you could just die by the end of it.”
“Are all you males so eager to rape a female out here? Honestly it’s the only threat you can come up with. If you’re going to kill me, do it.” You said. “Because you won’t lay another hand on me again.” You growled.
He chuckled, nodding to his friend. But you were ready for it, you stomped on the top of his foot, his grip loosening. You kicked him back, but before you could go after the male in front of you, a spear flew over your head. Dead into the male’s chest.
Another one flew into the neck of the male that had restrained you. Your eyes flew up as you saw a male jump from a tree.
You stumbled back a bit as you took in the site before you. Your little brother, Varyn.
Chapter 21
A/N: Another Cliffhanger for you all! Next part will be posted at 6PM CDT (Chicago)
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my genuine thoughts on the amazing digital circus episode two because someone has to hear all these thoughts and it sure aint gonna be my friends anytime soon:
the pacing felt off - not sure why, but if i had to guess i think it would be due to how much info and exposition was crammed into the first episode, with very little in the second episode made it feel weird. i literally got halfway through and went 'how am i halfway when nothing has happened?'
like the whole scene when they were arriving at the candy kingdom (i dont remember what it was called currently) felt a bit too long, like they dragged it out a little to fill time (or to show of the animation and design, and if so, valid)
i think the pilot also had more visual comedy aspects to do with 3D animation which i really appreciated. they did keep some in the second episode but less so
Jax definitely came off a whole lot meaner this time, but after revisiting the pilot he's basically the same level of mean just without the comedy or charm. im assuming that they're doing this to keep it in the audience's mind that Jax is an asshole so when he does some cruel shit later on it doesn't seem like such a 180
on that note, this episode also just felt a lot less funny. it might be that it purely wasn't my kind of humour, but i thought the pilot had a fair few good bits and the second episodes comedy just didnt really hit with me
i think also there are specific moments that felt they were building suspense/tension for either comedic or dramatic reasons just for nothing to happen, which felt disappointing. best example would be Kinger throwing the lifesaver (what did he throw?) the second time, going to check on the rope, for nothing to happen. felt like a set-up with no pay-off
and a similar point, and it could just be an emphasis on how old and immortal these characters are so they're used to this shit, but none of them react strongly! to anything! Jax is thrown over the side of the truck with no reaction, the knifes everywhere don't illicit a strong response, Ragatha watches herself get IMPALED IN THE CHEST? and they fall from a cliff and dont even scream. no reaction to anything. it just felt weird.
HOWEVER, it is not all bad. Caine and Bubble are still great (i think a large part of why i did not find this episode as funny is likely coz these two had very limited screen time)
i loved the little gators designs, and the plot line of existential crisis followed by acceptance and then just being smite by god
character development on Pomni felt sweet, great symbolism in one short little moment
i'm real interested to see more of Zooble, and a bit more into Jax's development (i saw his expressions at the end, dont think i didnt)
i think the characters mostly stayed the same (besides Jax and Pomni of course) so im excited for exploring them more in the future!
the possibility of the gators returning is very interesting
the designs of the locations were all very pretty
i did still like this episode, although i enjoyed the pilot i lot more. i'm excited to see where this series goes! and massive kudos to doing this independently, regardless of how this series ends up ill always have respect to the creators for not going to a big boss company to produce it
also dont get me wrong i definitely love this series and i love jax i can criticise and love things simultaneously
#the amazing digital circus#digital circus#pomni#tadc#tadc pomni#jax#tadc jax#tadc ragatha#tadc zooble#gangle#kinger#ragatha#caine#gooseworx#tadc caine#zooble#tadc gangle#bubble#tadc bubble#tadc kinger#gummigoo#tadc spoilers#tadc gummigoo#gummy gators
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hi just wondering and i know you may have answered this so i haven't seen but you said after episode 5 you were never more confident that buddie is endgame and it's happening, just wondering now that the season has played out if you still feel that way. i think the finale pretty much cemented that buck is going to play a central role in eddie's storyline next season and he's going to be there with him throughout that entire mess and echo what he told Maddie love was in the S5 finale. But just curious to hear your thoughts, hope you're having a nice afternoon
I've gotten a lot of asks about this and this is the only one I'll answer, just this once.
tl;dr: my answer hasn't changed! I still think the show will have these two end up together at some point. The longer answer under the cut has more of my ramblings but this is really it.
I love the way Buck and Eddie's relationship was written this season—I'm not primarily saying in relation to their (maybe eventual) romantic relationship, but just how much the show established them as a family and how they always show up for each other and love each other so fiercely and steadily. I don't think my belief that we will get Buck and Eddie as endgame has wavered in either direction now that the season has ended—I've thought they were going there at least since the shooting (which, ouch, we all were right) and that has not changed.
I do think season 8 is going to be pretty telling in terms of the direction forward though. I'll be interested to see how they develop their relationship in ways we haven't seen before—to your point, I don't think it would be at all surprising at this point to have Buck play a role in Eddie's story line next season—we've seen them established as a family for a long time now, so what else are they adding to it? Will we see Eddie contemplate the shooting further and whatever realization he arguably had as he looked at Buck while bleeding out? Will we see him contemplate his own self more as Christopher is away—his relationship to his faith, to his culture, to masculinity, to his mother, his sexuality? There is so much potential here for the way forward and I do think this has to be Eddie's journey primarily. I'm not saying Buck won't be there, he will be, but these are not necessarily only in service of him getting together with Buck and I think it's a disservice to look at it exclusively through that lens. I think it'll be interesting for him to examine a lot of these especially as a person like Gerard is in command of the 118, when Bobby has always been such a safe space and a mirror in so many ways for Eddie.
As the story stands now, I still think both their individual series-long arcs would only be satisfying if they end up together. But—and here's where I might get crucified—I think they could choose to develop Buck's relationship with Tommy further if they decide to go a different way. I'm not saying they are or they would, and I don't think they're there now, but I personally see the potential for Tommy to be developed into Buck's endgame love interest over the course of the next season or so, should they choose for whatever reason to go that way. Once again, just to spare my inbox from all the screaming anons, I'm not saying this is what they're doing, and I would be disappointed if we don't get to have Buck and Eddie, and I think it would be narratively dissatisfying as the story stands now, even though I really like Bucktommy and have enjoyed seeing them so far. I personally think next season would be an interesting place to see what direction these story lines turn. Ultimately, I think it is highly, highly likely we see Buck and Eddie together and I'm confident, but yeah, these are my thoughts at the end of this season. An obligatory PSA that these are my opinions and you should make up your own mind about it and I'm not saying I'm right or wrong. Folks can leave me asks about what they think but I'm unlikely to discuss this any more apart from talking to mutuals in DMs.
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The Very Thought of You
From the Love Letter Series
Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)
As the highly regarded twenty-fifth mission approaches for Rosie and his crew, he's faced with startling realities that may change the course of his future. While Jo is back home, waiting patiently for his return, she receives news that she wasn't expecting from someone even more unexpected, that 'tests their relationship even more.
Read part 5 Here
Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist
The officers club was, for the first time in a few weeks, filled. The new replacement officers were enjoying the whiskey, music and watching the Red Cross girls as they flitted around the room. Harry and Rosie were tucked away in a corner by the fireplace, nursing their drinks as they watched the fresh faced kids that had just shipped out, eager to join the fight, try and navigate their surroundings. Rosie wondered how they would fare- remembering the first night his crew had been in this very room. The atmosphere had been vastly different, a celebration of Captain Glenn Dye’s twenty-fifth mission. The faces of the original crews that had flown in from Greenland were intimidating. He had panicked so badly upon meeting Major’s Cleven and Egan that he had divulged to them that he and his crew had trained and flown in their skivvies. Pappy still hadn’t let him live it down, and he had a very strong feeling that once he was back stateside, Jo would end up hearing all about it from Croz.
The irony wasn’t lost on him, sitting there now, his twenty-fifth on the horizon, one of the few people here now, who had been in the room months prior. Of the rest, so many were gone; he would wager that a good deal more men had died in this war, while the rest were being held as POWs in the Stalag. The two Majors, now no longer at Thorpe Abbotts; it was Rosie and Croz who were the old timers, along with James Douglass, Everett Blakely and Jack Kidd. It stirred up a cornucopia of emotions as he tried not to think about the possibility of what the next flight would bring. He was so lost in his own mind he didn’t see the three replacements at the bar, didn’t hear them talking about him specifically, nor did he hear Kidd setting them straight,
“So, are you going to request Florida or Texas for your assignment?” Croz’s voice brought him out of his own head, eyes finding those of his friend.
“I’ve already been to Texas, before my tour,” Rosie nodded, thinking back to those hot days of training in Laredo. “Training pilots in Florida just sounds better.”
“What I wouldn’t give to train pilots somewhere sunny after a year in this pea soup.” Croz sighed, leaning back in his chair.
“Ah, your time will come.”
“But that’s the problem with being kicked up to operations. I hardly get to fly anymore.”
He was about to reply when the red light went on, the men around him sighing in disappointment of a night cut short. Glasses coming to rest on the bar and on tables, Rosie made to move as well, before Croz’s hand came to his shoulder, pushing him back into his seat.
“Your crew’s on stand down for this one.”
“Oh…”
“So, Florida huh? Tell me you’re at least going home for a few days before.”
“Ma would be on the first train down if I didn’t.” He huffed out a laugh. The image of his Jewish mother from Brooklyn pushing her way through officers and The Brass in Florida just to give him a smack on the back of the head for not going home first brought a smile to his face. Mostly because he knew she’d do it too.
“Just your Ma?”
He feels his cheeks warm instantly at Croz’s indirect mention of Jo, and realizes that it’s quite literally on the horizon. The day’s are trickling down to near zero before he’ll see her again and it makes excitement and nerves bloom in his stomach like the annual floral show at Brooklyn’s Botanical Gardens. The thing’s he’s said to her in writing, moments of bravery shared on paper, those are all quite rapidly approaching reality. He’ll soon be able to hold her in his arms, and finally have her in all the ways he’s dreamed of for so long.
“When did you hear from her last?”
“Hmm?”
“Jo. When did you last hear from her?”
“About two weeks ago. Said she was going upstate for a few days with Jean to visit with Brady’s girlfriend, Juliet.”
“Yea, Jean mentioned that in her last letter. I think it’s good for all of them, especially with Brady being stuck where he is…”
“They’re all just stuck there,” Rosie’s mind wandered back to those first three missions, all the esteemed pilots that had come before him, sitting out the war in a German POW camp while he was a hair’s breadth from home. “They’ve got to be going stir crazy.”
“At least they’re together, from what I’ve heard,” Croz pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought of his friends. “Brady writes to Juliet, who writes to Olive, who updates all of us.”
“Chain mail,” Rosie chuckled. “Val writes to Jo, who sends things from home in exchange for updates on how we’re both really doing.”
“I think it’s neat that they all talk, indirectly or otherwise.”
He was about to reply when the chair opposite him was suddenly occupied, a bright red smile turned on him and Harry. Valencia grinning at them, her usual French 75 in one hand, a cigarette between two fingers of the other. Settling her drink on the small table to her left, she leaned back in the chair, taking a slow drag of her cigarette.
“Evening Val,” Harry offered a wave over to her. “You by yourself tonight?”
“Croz,” She returned his greeting before shifting her gaze to Rosie. “Rosie. Not alone, just waiting for Everett to get back. Wanted to say hi.”
“Well, you’re both welcome to join us.” Harry gestured to the empty chair next to Val.
“Thank you, but I think we’re heading out in a bit,” Val focused back on Rosie before speaking again. “I got a letter, and lipstick, from Jo last week. She’s a real sweetheart Rosenthal. I hope you plan on marrying her once you’re back.”
Rosie couldn’t help laughing at Val’s serious expression; she was known around base as the feisty Red Cross girl, so to see her be so serious was actually quite funny to him.
“I plan on it, Valencia, I promise.”
“Good; I owe her a letter. I know she mentioned taking a trip upstate with Jean to visit Benny’s girl, I want to hear all about that.”
“Thanks for being a friend to her, Val. I know she enjoys your letters, and I appreciate it. A lot.”
“No need to thank me,” Val stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray next to her drink. “Us Brooklyn girls need to stick together. Jean too, Croz. I owe her a letter as well.”
“I have a feeling the three of you are going to be thick as thieves once we all get home.” Harry chuckled.
“We might be already.”
“Are you?”
“I can’t give away all our secrets, Croz.” She winked.
Draining her drink, she stood, offering both men a wave as she caught up with Ev Blakely and the pair exited the Officers Club together.
“We’re in trouble…” Harry sighed with a shake of his head, Rosie readily agreeing with him
—--------------------------------------------------
“Thank you!”
Jo handed the cab driver a few bills, the man placing her suitcase on the sidewalk next to her feet before closing the trunk. He wordlessly got back in his car and pulled away from the curb, leaving her in front of her house. She picked up the suitcase, heels clicking rhythmically on the sidewalk as she ascended the front steps of the house. She made quick work of the front door, the air still carrying a bit of winter’s chill if the sun wasn’t out, and entered the house. She could hear the radio on in the living room, the sound of the nightly news report and her parents talking.
“Hi! I’m back!”
“We’re in here dear!” Her mother called out to her.
Leaving her suitcase by the door, Jo quickly shrugged out of her coat, leaving her hat and gloves on the credenza by the door, coat on the hook. The house was warm and sent a cozy shiver up her spine, a feeling of contentment after a day of travel seeping through her bones. Her father was in his chair next to the radio, her mother on the sofa with her needlepoint in her lap as they dutifully listened to news from the frontlines.
“Josephine, welcome home!” Her father grinned, offering her a smile as she leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. “How was upstate?”
“Oh it was so beautiful,” She took the seat next to her mother on the couch, greeting her the same way she did her father. “So much quieter than the city.”
“How was Juliet? Did she seem okay when you girls were there?”
“She seemed as okay as could be, considering where poor John Brady is.”
“Poor thing, she must be worried sick.”
“She gets letters from him, though not as frequently as when he was in England. I think she takes comfort that he’s with so many of the men from his squadron and not alone.”
“Well, you and Jean did a nice thing going up there to spend her week off with her.”
“It was a nice couple of days, and her parents were so welcoming.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Mrs. Harris gave her daughter's hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you hungry? There’s leftovers on the stove for you if you want.”
“Jean and I ate on the train, but I’ll cover it and put it away for you before I go up.”
“Oh, thank you honey. I left your mail on the vanity in your room.”
“Thank you mom,” Standing from the couch, Jo made a quick stop in the kitchen to put the leftovers away, before picking the suitcase up that she’d left by the door. “I’m going up, goodnight!”
“Goodnight Josephine,” Her father called back. “We’re glad you’re back safely.”
With a smile, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, the exhaustion from the day catching up with her. Her smile widened as she thought of the possibility of a letter from Robbie waiting for her in her room, something to read while she curled up under the covers. She liked the idea of his words acting as a bedtime story, and often found herself reading over old letters of his before bed at night; the last thing on her mind every night were his bright blue eyes and the promises that they made to each other.
Closing the door behind her, she dropped the suitcase to the floor- tomorrow’s problem- and quickly crossed the room to see what was waiting for her on the vanity. She made quick work of changing into her nightgown, resolving to wash her face after reading her mail. She picked up both envelopes, and sat back on the bed, tucking her feet underneath her as she got comfortable. She grinned at Valencia’s elaborate cursive on the front of the first envelope. Her pen pal from Thorpe Abbotts; Val was a Red Cross girl who had become a friend of Robbie’s, and most importantly, a fellow Brooklyn girl.
“Miss Val, what have you got to tell me today…” Jo murmured under her breath with a grin.
She could always count on the woman to give her the facts of how Robbie was faring over there, and if he was truly looking after himself. She loved the little stories she would share about nights in the Officers club, or the weekend pass she took with her sweetheart, Ev. Val would send photos along if she could snag them from their friend on base,Joe, who was the regimental photographer. It would give Jo a sense of security, to know he was doing fine, that he had friends there, and a routine. He’d told her that Val brought a taste of home to the base, and he couldn’t wait to introduce them when they all finally came home.
Sliding her thumb under the seal of the envelope, she quickly pulled the paper from its safe keeping. Unfolding it, she sat down on the bed and began to read.
Hello Chickie!
It’s been quite a moment since I’ve gotten to write you, and I hope by now you’re back safely from your adventure with Jean to visit Brady’s sweet Juliet. I want to hear all about how Upstate was. I’ve never gotten up that way myself, I’m a city girl through and through, but if you enjoyed yourself then maybe we should all plan a visit up that way as a group once this war is over and we’ve made it back stateside. I’m pretty sure I could convince Everett to take any vacation after this war!
I saw your Rosie this evening in the club. He and Croz looked deep in thought when I joined them. Though as of late they’re always deep in thought. I think with Rosie approaching the coveted twenty-five, they’ve allowed themselves a moment to think of the future. I do worry that Harry without Rosie will be difficult on poor Croz; he’s lost so much already with Bubbles being gone, and the rest of the fellas stuck in Germany. But, Rosie should not skip out on the opportunity to get back home. We’re all rooting for him, Jo, and know that he’ll be well on his way back to you sooner than you think.
I’ll certainly miss him and his crew around base- they brought a new happiness after so many of our fellas went down and were captured. Pappy may fight Croz to be best man at your wedding whenever that happens. Soon I hope!
Before I forget, thank you for sending along that lipstick! Victory Red is so hard to come by over here these days. The town in East Anglia doesn’t have too many options, and I’m lucky I can get a pair of pantyhose when I need them. Meatball played tug of war with poor Helen’s last good pair a few days ago. The phrase Bad Dog is not one I thought we’d be using so frequently during the war. But boy, does that dog love Rosie. I wouldn’t be surprised if he looks to get a dog for you both once he’s back.
Looking forward to hearing from you soon, Jo, and hope all is well back home in our favorite borough. I look forward to taking a walk through Brooklyn with you soon, and having a cocktail at the Automat over lunch. Stay well, my friend, and keep that chin up!
Your friend,
Val
Jo read the letter over again, chuckling at the thought of Meatball being so attached to Robbie, but also being such a menace of a pup that he destroyed pantyhose thinking it was playtime. She knew his twenty-fifth mission was on the horizon, if not happening imminently, and she was both worried and excited. She’d seen articles in the paper about the Bombers that were being lost and destroyed over German airspace, and knew that Robbie was in the thick of it. It made her sick with worry every time she opened a newspaper or listened to the radio. She knew he was capable, lord did she know, because he was still there. Still in the fight. But until he was home with her, safe, in her arms, she would continue to worry with every passing day.
Putting the letter back in its envelope, she placed it next to her on the bed before picking up the second piece of mail. It was addressed to her in a handwriting she didn’t recognize, with a US Army Air Force postal stamp over the upper right hand corner. Her stomach immediately dropped, knowing what came in these random envelopes. There was no one else on base who would write to her, at least she assumed so. With a deep breath, and a silent prayer, she slid her finger under the back flap of the envelope, as she did with the first, and carefully slid the paper from its confines. Cautiously, as if it might bite her, she unfolded the paper and began to read what she felt in her gut was bad news.
Hi Josephine!
I thought I should introduce myself first. It’s me, Pappy! I’ve heard a lot about you from Rosie and wanted to send along a message because I’m sure by now, you’ve heard the news.
Tears immediately springing to her eyes, Jo heaved a deep breath, prepared to read the absolute worst. Her Robbie was hurt, or worse… and his co-pilot, bless him, wanted to be the one to break the news himself.
Please, don’t be too cross with him. He’s only doing what he feels in his heart is right. Rosie’s a fighter through and through with a heart of gold. He sees people being persecuted, and feels this unyielding need to fight for them because they can’t fight for themselves. His words, not mine. He’s good with the words, that one, so I’m sure he’s explained it to you a lot better than I ever could. But, remember, he loves you. We all can see how much, and he’d want nothing more than to be home with you. And he will be, soon I’m sure of it.
Looking forward to meeting you one day! He’s really talked you up, and I’m sure all of it is true! I think it’s really neat that you’re best friends with Crosby’s wife! He’s a nervous wreck, that guy, but at least he has Rosie, and Rosie has him now that the rest of us are headed home. May have to come down to fisticuffs for the spot of best man when you two tie the knot, though.
Keep well, Jo. He’ll be back before you know it!
All the best,
Pappy Lewis
A letter from Pappy? And to ask her not to be cross? And what hadn’t she heard that apparently Robbie had already told her? She’d resolved to believe that he wasn’t injured, or worse, because Pappy wouldn’t have sounded so enthusiastic in his greeting, however she felt more lost than she had when Robbie had first shipped out. With nothing to go on, she stood from the bed, slipped on her robe and shoved her feet into her slippers, before grabbing both letters and racing down the stairs.
“Josephine!” Her mother hollered as she flew into the living room, stopping only when she was next to the phone. “Slow down, what’s wrong?”
Before she could respond, her mother noticed the letters crushed into her hand, and the nervous expression on her face, coming to stand next to her.
“Josephine… what happened?”
“I don’t know! I’ve never gotten mail from Robbie’s co-pilot Pappy, ever, and now he’s sending me a letter telling me not to be upset and Robbie’s only doing what he knows is right… I’m just confused!”
“So he’s not…”
“No, I don’t think so. Pappy said he’d be home before I know it but, it still doesn’t make any sense.”
Picking up the receiver, she dialed the familiar line until the operator connected her call. She waited for the telltale voice on the other end to announce she’d reached the Crosby Residence. For the only person who could talk her down at this hour.
“Jean…” Her voice wavered, and she tried, oh how she tried to breath through the tears stinging the back of her eyes, the nerves swirling in the pit of her stomach, but the shaky sound of her own voice sounded from her end of the receiver making Jean Crosby think the worst.
Her friend was at the Harris home in record time, the two women sitting up in the living room, late into the night. Long after Jo’s parents had retired to bed. The tea had gone cold, and the girls had read and reread Pappy’s letter half a dozen times before finally letting it drop to the coffee table. The paper was crumpled from being passed back and forth, and the envelope was nowhere to be found.
“He’s… I think he’s gone and done something entirely stupid.” Jo breathed, standing from the couch to pull a bottle from the small bar in the corner.
“If you start drinking now, we’ll never get to the bottom of this.” Jean scolded her softly.
“What am I getting to the bottom of, though! Pappy didn’t say what he did, just, that I can’t be mad.”
“Which has made you mad.”
“Of course it has! Stupid boy. His mother raised a stupid, stupid boy!”
“Jo, honey; you don’t mean that.”
Sinking down onto the couch, Jo allowed herself for just a moment to think that maybe Jean was right. That maybe Robbie wasn’t a stupid boy, but someone who was just hellbent on always doing the right thing.
“I don’t know what I mean…”
“I’m sure he’s written to explain it.”
“God, I hope so.”
“He wouldn’t not tell you something important,” Jean soothed, wrapping her friend up in a hug. “He loves you.”
For the first time, Jo let the sob that had been building in her chest out into the quiet of the room. The tears spilling forth as her friend tucked her ever so gently against her shoulder, doing the best she could to help her find comfort in what was still such an unknown situation.
“Then why does it feel like he’s not coming home…”
Mrs. Harris found her daughter, and Jean Crosby asleep on the couch when she came down the next morning. Head to foot, they had haphazardly thrown the blanket from the back of the couch over themselves, and fallen into what she imagined was a restless sleep for her daughter. She knew how it felt; when Josephine’s father had been away at war, Josephine only a little girl, she remembered waiting on letters and praying none of them harbored bad news. Now her daughter was doing the same and she prayed for her, and for the sweet boy from down the street who had stolen her heart and taken it to war with him.
Setting upon making coffee, she left the pot on the stove to percolate before making her way into the living room to wake the two girls.
“Josephine, dear…” Gently shaking her at the shoulder, she watched as her eyes tightened before fully opening to the light in the room. “Come on now, come have some coffee and a bite to eat.”
“M’not hungry.” She murmured, pressing her face deeper into the couch cushion.
“You’re turning down coffee?”
“…no?”
“Good, now come on. You slept in your makeup and you’re all over my throw pillows.”
As Jo moved to sit up, Mrs. Harris gave Jean a light shake, the other woman quickly roused from her light sleep.
“Oh gosh… I fell asleep on your couch.”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” Mrs. Harris chided her as only a mother could. “Now come on, both of you. Coffee and some breakfast.”
It was a quiet morning at the table, Jo and Jean sat in near silence while Mrs. Harris tried to make small talk with her husband. Neither were ignorant to the fact that Jo was hurting and didn’t have any answers. Both remained grateful for Jean Crosby and the friendship she offered to Jo- the two had found each other in dark times and it was refreshing to see something so lovely in a time of war.
A knock at the door had all four heads turning at the sound, confusion on their faces as Mr. Harris gestured for them to remain at the table, while he went to see who would be calling so early. Josephine perked up slightly at the sound of Mrs. Rosenthal’s voice floated through the hallway before she was joining them at the table.
“Mrs. Rosenthal…”
“Sorry to call on you all so early, I wanted to make sure you were alright, dear.”
“You know, I’m not sure, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to be alright with.”
“You haven’t gotten his letter?”
As she was about to reply, her father entered the kitchen, envelope in hand and relief on his face as he handed it over to Josephine. She immediately recognized Rosie’s handwriting scrawled across the front.
“Where did you find that!’
“It was caught under the rug in the entryway,” He sighed. “Must have gotten stuck when you came in last night.”
“Christ!” She cursed, tearing into the envelope with a ferocity that shocked her mother, and had Jean laughing from her spot next to her.
Unfolding the paper, Rosie’s familiar writing met her eyes and she sighed with relief. Nerves and fear still swirled low in her stomach, but less so at having his letter in her hands.
My sweetest Jo,
I miss you terribly. I know that’s not much of a way to start a letter, but it’s the truth. I miss you more and more each passing day, honey, and long to be back with you.
This is not an easy letter for me to write, so please, try and understand that I’m not doing this for the wrong reasons. I’ve completed my twenty fifth mission, and I’ve reached the required number of flights to be discharged. I know you’re reading this and wondering what’s so uneasy about all of this. The day that I completed my tour, The Brass raised the number of missions required to complete a tour from twenty five to thirty. We found all of this out, unfortunately, in the Officers Club during what would have been a really nice evening celebrating with the crew and other fellas.
The crew and I, we’re not required to stay for an additional five, they considered us safe from the new numbers. But sweetheart, it’s so hard for me to watch my friends, and replacement men come in, and have to try and beat higher odds. There’s still a fight to be fought, and a war that’s persecuting people who cannot fight for themselves. How can I just sit by while fresh faced, green, pilots come in and attempt to fly by the seat of their pants. It wouldn’t be right, and it would prolong the fight. You know I don’t like bullies, never have and never will.
I’ve reenlisted for another tour, and have been promoted to Major. I know, you’re mad. I know Ma will be mad as well, and I understand if you stay mad. But please, I promise I will fight to help end this war so that I can come home to you. I hope you can forgive me for prolonging the start of our life together, and see the reasons for what they are. I just…I want to save the people who cannot save themselves.
I love you, so terribly, Jo, that every day I find that I love you more than the last. I’m simply existing here, until I can finally take you in my arms and call you mine. I will continue to count down the days, my sweetest girl, and I hope you are too. You’ve got my heart, always, Jo. And I promise to return home, with yours, safely, very soon.
All of my love, and millions of hugs and kisses.
Robbie
Jo heaved a deep, ragged breath, before placing the letter down on the kitchen table. She wordlessly slid the paper over to Jean, the other woman looking between Jo and the paper as if the words might have jumped off the page and slapped her into stunned silence.
“He’s reenlisted.” Jo spoke, the words almost inaudible, her throat thick with what could only be described as sadness.
The anger that Rosie predicted might come, was not there. Only sadness, that he held such a strong moral compass inside of him, that he couldn’t bear to see the job left unfinished. His need to be there for others, something she knew long before he had even enlisted, had outweighed his longing and desire to come home. To be with his family, to be with her, and make good on all of the promises that he made.
“Josephine…”
When she looked up, her mother was no longer sitting to her right, but it was Mrs. Rosenthal. Her parents and Jean had left the room, leaving her alone with the woman she considered as much a mother as her own. Her eyes bore the same sadness that she felt, and when she didn’t think she could stand it anymore, she collapsed against her in tears, and wept. She wept for his mother, his sister, herself, for Robbie, for all the people who continued to suffer and lose during this unforgiving war. For the men who felt such duty to their country that they would remain overseas long after their time had come to go home. For the mothers, sisters, wives and sweethearts who just longed for the missing piece in their life to come home.
“He’s doing what he thinks is right, dearest.”
“Damn him for being so good.” She cried. The tears trailed hot down her cheeks. “He’s so good! And he’s so, so stupid!”
“I know, sweetheart,” Consoling the girl she already thought part of her family, Mrs. Rosenthal’s tears fell in sync with Jo’s. “I raised a boy I’m proud of, you should be too, but hell if he’s not thick headed sometimes.”
Pulling back, Jo quickly wiped at her eyes, the tears mixed with the previous day's mascara causing black streaks to decorate her face. Eyes bloodshot and nose fire engine red, she nodded furiously in agreement with Rosie’s mother. Of course she was immensely proud of him, he had gone to England and done amazing, brave things, to keep people safe. She’d be a fool not to be proud of him. But the pain of being so close to that dream they both shared, oh that pain ripped through her with the fury of a river wild. Uncontrollable and on a path all its own, with no actual destination and nothing to stop it. It just kept running its course.
“You know him, Josephine. You know that once Robert gets something in his head, nothing can change his mind.”
“Stubborn…”
“He is very stubborn,” Mrs. Rosenthal chuckled, handing the girl next to her a tissue to clean up with. “But he also worships you, and wants to protect you. So, he continues to fight.”
“I miss him so much, ” She sucked in a ragged breath before continuing. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel.”
“I feel what a mother is supposed to feel. I worry, and I pray, and I repeat the process over again day after day.”
“Then we will worry, and pray for him together. I think if both of us do it, he’ll come back safely.”
“Yes, he will,” Rosie’s mother gave a smile that Jo knew was forced. She gave the same ones when people asked her about Rosie. “And you keep writing to him. Those letters, he looks forward to them more than mine.”
“That can’t be true…”
“A mother knows these things.”
If what Rosie’s mother said was true, then she should have been able to formulate something, anything to write to him. But as she sat at the desk in her bedroom that night, no tears left to cry and the blank sheet of paper in front of her, she found that the words were not coming as easily as she had hoped. What was she supposed to say? What was he expecting her to say? Did he expect a response from her, or was he banking on her being angry with him? It seemed silly to her to be in a fight, of sorts, when she was here and he was all the way over there. With all her might, she put pen to paper and hoped that she could formulate her thoughts properly, and convey her feelings in a way that might make him understand that she wasn’t angry. Simply put, she was sad.
My dearest Robbie,
I must admit, I’m finding it very hard to write this letter. I’ve been trying to find the words to put down on paper all day, and now it’s bedtime and I can’t bring myself to find sleep just yet. It’s no secret that you’re always on my mind, my love, and today has been no exception. I was quite surprised to come home from upstate to a letter from Pappy. I think I was more surprised that his letter was asking me not to be too upset with you. I spent all of last night trying to figure out what it was that I was not supposed to be upset about. When your mother called over at breakfast today, I knew it had to be something serious. My father found your letter in the foyer, stuck under the carpet by the door. It has been, to say the very least, a very exhausting day.
Robbie, I’ve known you for so long, yet it took your mother to remind me that once you set your mind to something, there is quite literally no talking you out of it. It’s one of the endearing qualities that I love so much about you. Your determination to always do the right thing, and a moral compass that always points in the right direction. Don’t think for one second that I’m not proud of you for completing your twenty fifth mission safely. Please know that I’m proud of you for reenlisting, though it may not be my favorite of your decisions. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, though. But I think I can be proud and sad at the same time- never mad. How could I be mad at you for doing something you feel deep in your bones is the right thing?
Please, tell me, will Pappy and the boys be staying with you? Have they decided to reenlist as well, or will they be going home? I must admit, you flying without Pappy by your side is such an odd idea to me. I don’t know that I will ever trust someone so entirely to be your right hand man in the sky. The Bald Eagle and the Legal Eagle- yes, I know of your nicknames for each other- are a pair, and should not be separated. As is the case for me and you, we are a pair that should not, and will not be separated.
I promise you, I will be here waiting for you while you fight for those who cannot stand up and fight for themselves. I find sadness in that we must postpone the start of our future together, and continue to share this love on paper, with an ocean between us. I was looking forward to meeting you at Minton’s darling, and I know that absence makes the heart grow fonder, which can only mean that my heart is so very fond of you Robbie, and my love for you grows every single day.
I love you so much, Robert Rosenthal. New York feels empty without you. I will be here waiting, counting the days until there are no more keeping us apart.
Yours forever and always, with all of my love
Jo
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rosie was exiting the hut that served as the barber shop on base, the cool English air a welcome change as spring seemed to be settling in at Thorpe Abbotts. Rosie had been making it a point to spend time with each of the Riveter’s crew before they were sent home and today it was Bailey, the navigator keen on getting a haircut before the journey home. Around them, Officers and Enlisted Men passed them on their bikes, each one saluting the newly appointed Major as he walked by.
“Jeez, you’re the top dog now.” Bailey’s thick Long Island accent broke the silence around them.
“No, that would be Colonel Bennett,” Rosie rolled his eyes. “I’m just Rosie from Brooklyn who happens to know how to fly a plane.”
“Bullshit,” Bailey laughed, giving him a half hearted shove. “You’re Major Rosenthal now, and your new crew is going to fall at your feet.”
“I don’t want anyone falling at my feet.”
“Nash isn’t here to make the lewd comment so, you’re off the hook.” Bailey shook his head.
The indirect mention of Jo caused Rosie to tense up. He hadn’t heard back from her after sending his letter with what he could only describe as bad news for her. He wouldn’t blame her if she called this thing between them off, no matter how many times his crew tried to convince him she would do no such thing.
“Still nothing back?”
“Not yet,” He sighed. “Can’t say I'd blame her either. I pretty much threw a wrench in our plans without so much as discussing it.”
“You did what you had to do. What you thought was right.”
“But did I?”
“You’re not second guessing yourself now, are you? It’s a bit too late for that, pal.’
“No, I know staying in the fight is the right thing to do, but isn't going home to her also the right thing to do?”
Bailey was silent a minute, thoughts of his own wife back home surely moving to the forefront of his mind. Rosie had made it clear to each member of his crew that he didn’t expect them, nor would he blame them, if they took the out and went home after twenty five. They had all earned it as much as he had, and he wanted them to do what was best in their eyes. Pappy had waffled on it for a few days, until ultimately Rosie had decided for him that he should go home and be with his family. So now he would await a new crew, green Airmen who had yet to even see combat, and he prayed every day that he was enough to keep them alive.
“You are doing the right thing, you know” Bailey spoke up again. “It might feel funny for a bit, but we’re all damn proud to have been on your crew. And we’re damn proud of you for seeing this through.”
“Since when are you the sentimental type?” Rosie turned to look at him, the shorter man trying to hide the emotion on his face.
“Shut up and take the compliment, alright?”
“Alright, alright, I hear ya.”
“Good, now let's go. Almost chow time.”
As they made their way to the Officers mess, Pappy was waiting outside the doors for them, a smug smile on his face, hands stuffed in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Why do you look like you just got done having the best time of your life?”
“I hate to agree with him, but you do look entirely too happy for someone about to eat whatever they’re serving for dinner.” Rosie chuckled.
“Oh, no reason,” Pappy smiled, nudging Rosie in the shoulder. “Just delivering the most coveted piece of mail since March to one, Major Rosenthal.” Pappy pulled the envelope from his pocket, and Rosie could hardly believe his eyes as Jo’s cursive adorned the front.
“How long have you had that!” Rosie swiped it from him, immediately tearing into it. He couldn’t be bothered with privacy or waiting to read it when he was alone.
“Helen dropped the mail off while you were getting a shave.” Pappy grinned.
Nodding, Rosie let his eyes fall on the paper, the letter much longer than what he was expecting. He had been expecting a brief note to stop writing, or something along the lines of how much she hated him, and never wanted to see him again. But what he saw on the page was a declaration of love, of how proud she was of him, and one sentence that caused him to stand up straight and fix his co-pilot with the wildest of eyes.
“Pappy… you didn’t…”
“Don’t worry, I introduced myself properly.” The co-pilot grinned.
Bailey immediately burst out laughing, knowing just how worried Rosie had been about Jo’s response, and now knowing that the poor girl knew from Pappy before Rosie, he couldn’t contain his laughter as he watched Rosie pull at his normally immaculate curls, blue eyes wild with disbelief. Just as Rosie made to turn on him, they spotted Harry Crosby strolling up to them, his own envelope in his hand and a sour look on his face.
“Croz?”
“Jean is mad at me because I didn’t stop you.”
While one navigator heaved a deep sigh, brows furrowed in confusion at his own wife, the other continued his raucous laughter, the sound echoing around them as they stood outside the mess hall.
“I’m glad you two are going home. Pains in my neck.”
“Don’t say that, you’ll miss us and you know it!” Pappy chuckled, Bailey’s laughter seemingly contagious.
“Oh sure, I’ll definitely miss this.” Rosie rolled his eyes, sharing a look with Crosby as they entered the hut, leaving the two laughing Riveter’s outside. After dinner, he’d spend a moment in his hut, and put paper to pen, and talk to his sweetheart.
My Dearest Jo…
A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know! A big huge thank you to @hephaestn for the stunning new mood board.
Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel @beingalive1
#masters of the air#love letters: Rosie & Jo#mota fanfic#rosie rosenthal x oc#rosie rosenthal fic#rosie rosenthal#oc: Josephine Harris#rosie rosenthal x ofc#hbo war#gina baker writes#oc: Valencia DiRosano
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Jmart is such a cute name too 😭
#getting through the series just to see (or hear) them#idk if they’re actually canon but#if they are….#bro#my art#tma#the magnus archives#jmart#tma jmart#jon sims#martin blackwood
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"It will just end how it started"
#only friends the series#only friends#ofts#neo trai#mark pakin#i am living for them#glad nick found out in ep 3 and we have now a bunch of episodes of them just making everything worse for each other#nick really worked so hard on keeping boston i want to hug him#his proud smile after jerking boston off ;A;#and he tries to voice when he is uncomfortable and at the same time already realizes that boston is very much not on the same page#and my boy is already escelating listening in on the car sex#possible intended the bug for other reasons but baby - do not put yourself through hearing the whole thing in stereo....you could already#see them from the outside#have to had it to boston: he really nearly doesn't care at all about getting seen#p'jojo getting in his tweet <3#it is very telling that nick clearly knows who boston is but in his mind their encounters are just a tad more romantic with a focus on the#kissing they are doing and not so much the sex itself#fyi: i saved these gif files under the ship name 'tonnic'
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