#jesus this is 7 pages long

[cafffine]

Just read Illusions by richard bach on an airplane that was experiencing such bad turbulence that the pilot actually started reviewing evacuation procedures over the comm and im not trying to sound obnoxious here but I think that’s the only way I really could have understood the book

[chososdiscordkitten]

Baby Fever?!

Synopsis: JJk men/reader have baby fever ≽^•⩊•^≼

Includes: 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 Content: afab!reader, topics of pregnancy, marriage, breeding, and having children. mostly nsfw (sorry anon) (a.n) Jesus my page has been full of baby fever nd marriage recently.

Dedicated to; this ask.

MDNI

Satoru Gojo

Ever since you first became official- Gojo had this little habit of asking to give you a baby. You always shook him off, telling him ‘no’ because it was far too soon and you were too young to start having children. 

Birth control became a necessity because of the little need he had to finish inside of you.

On one occasion of him asking the incessant question- you leaned in real close to his ear, “I will impregnate you.” you whispered.

This unlocked a whole other can of worms in Satoru’s mind. The urge to breed you was strong, but that little promise lit a fire in his soul. 

But one day, while out on a date- walking down an empty street, a child no older than 7 or 8 ran up to Satoru, Tears staining his cheeks and asking for his mom. 

Though you hardly saw Satoru interact with children in your daily life, you could see his demeanor change from a normal playful one to a more serious and authoritative one.

Crouching down to the child’s height and asking where he last saw his mom and his name—all with calm. 

You watched the little interaction unfold before you with wide eyes- the thought that Gojo was too immature to be a father completely being thrown from your mind as Satoru stood up straight and held the child’s hand in his. Guiding him back to where the child last saw his mom and reuniting the stressed mom and the crying child.

After that, more and more little instances Satoru did, made you start contemplating his little offer of giving you a child. 

Whenever you’d go shopping with him, you’d always pretend to accidentally stumble across the baby aisle.

Gojo perked a brow, watching your eyes admire the little socks attached to the onside in your hands. 

Corner of his lip curled up with a soft giggle, stepping over to you and whispering- “You’re actually considering having a kid?” he teased watching you furrow your eyebrows and hang the little onesie back on the rack. 

You shoved him with your elbow, scoffing and making a mental note to never bring this up again. 

That night, you were scrolling on your phone- watching any video that popped up of a chunky baby with a soft expression. 

Satoru was beside you, focused on his phone, but the sound of a child’s laughter made him look over at you with furrowed eyebrows- peeking over to your phone and watching the tiktok you were looking at. 

Some video of a mom showing their child’s massive hair bows- he was about to laugh at how silly the baby looked. Only he scanned your expression and got a hint as to why you hadn’t scrolled yet. 

Satoru rolled atop you, resting his head on your sternum and urging you to put your phone down. 

Holding his head in your hands- “I can give you a baby if you want one so bad~” he teased, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. 

Parting your lips with a soft gasp, “Satoru Gojo!” you feigned shock, whispering, “A child out of wedlock? What would the clan think?” you teased, mushing his cheeks together as he rolled his eyes. 

Pulling your hands from his cheeks and hoisting himself up- face to face as he placed a hand between your thighs, urging you to open them. 

Placing a kiss on your lips with a smile- “I am the clan.” he scoffed smugly. 

Toji Zenin

It all started with one little sentence he littered during intercourse, legs bent to your chest, and Toji pounding into you like his life depended on it. 

Something along the lines of, “Gonna breed this perfect pussy-” in a low husky tone. It was muttered- like his internal thoughts seeped from his lips without permission. 

But the words stayed in your mind- long after you had cleaned off his copious mess from your center. Even as Toji was snoring next to you- you stayed up thinking about the words he had muttered into the air. 

They made you squint thinking about the possibility of it. Questions you wish Toji was awake to ask him. 

Rare were the times he would sprinkle dirty talk during sex. But the way he said it, it wasn’t meant to be heard as dirty talk. The way it sounded was he spoke it as a proclamation. 

The next morning, when Toji woke up to your face pressed against his chest. Feeling your eyes watch him sleep, he woke up asking you what you needed. 

“You want to-” air caught in your throat, recalling what he said. “..breed me?” you whispered, looking at his hazy eyes and furrowed brow. 

Corner of his lip curled, “Where’d you get that idea?” he scoffed, closing his eyes and pretending not to feel your harsh gaze on his skin. 

“From you- you said it last night.”

Toji nodded ‘no’. As though the idea of him saying that was impossible. 

“Yes, you did- I heard you.” watching Toji’s smug face nod ‘no’ again. 

“You can’t gaslight me Toji- I heard you.” Your determination amused the man- feeling his chest rise in a half laugh against your cheek. 

Even a few days after- the thought lingered in your mind. Toji still refused to believe he said it- telling you that you were mistaken. 

And then Toji caught onto the feverlike smile you’d get on your cheeks whenever you’d see a baby in public. Smiling to himself as you pinched your eyebrows at the little humans. 

But there was this one time- on an elevator with a new mom and a baby in her hands. Toji noticed your staring as the woman struggled to reach into her purse, which caused it to fall and spill her belongings on the ground.

The woman sighed- looking down before peering her eyes back to you- “Could you?” she asked, holding out her baby to you- which you happily took and looked at Toji with the child in your arms. 

Toji swore his eye twitched as he watched you- happily bouncing the child in your arms before the woman reached her hands back to her child. 

After that, Toji started expressing his urgent need to breed you full of his children during intimacy- to which he still denied he said any of those things. 

“Whatever- as long as you don’t become a deadbeat again, I don’t care.” you scoffed, referring to his son he refused to talk about. 

Naoya Zenin

While he was dating you- Naoya took a lot of care in ensuring not to get you pregnant. “Children out of wedlock never result in anything good.” he would defend. He told you to start taking birth control- only you laughed in his face and said no.

That if he wanted to have safe sex- he would have to wear a condom. That you wouldn’t alter your body’s hormones just because he doesn’t wanna get you pregnant. And Naoya obliged. 

Midway through sex, pulling his ear down to your lips and telling him how much better it would feel without a condom- only for his eyes to shut tight- trying to keep his focus on not cumming, going as far as telling you to shut up. Multiple times, knowing if you didn’t, he might just listen to you.

Though you liked teasing him with the possibility. Asking if he didn’t want to see you barefoot and pregnant, waiting for him at home. Watching his neck pulse with a low gulp just thinking about it. 

In truth, you didn’t really want to get pregnant- Naoya had a point in the whole ‘marriage first, then kids.’ thing. You only liked watching his ears turn red and warm whenever you’d try and tempt him with having sex without a condom.

You didn’t think much of it- unknowing of the temptation brewing in Naoya’s mind with every waking day he didn’t marry you. 

Every time you whispered a temptation in his ear- the mental image of you waiting for him at home, swelled with his child and the future of his clan—Naoya was hanging on a very thin thread. 

And once he finally had the guts to ask you- it took very little time for the wedding to be planned. The thought of children was nowhere near your mind on the day. 

A small ceremony with his family, prancing you around like some trophy in front of the elders. 

And that night- Naoya held a gentle hand as he undid the little buttons of your wedding dress- carefully unwrapping you from the costly lace. 

You found it odd- sure. Naoya wasn’t usually the type to take things slow and gentle in this department. 

But when you looked at him, his hips between your knees with your back on the bed. Looking up at Naoya as he undid the buttons of his dress shirt- “We’re not stopping till you’re pregnant.” he huffed, tossing his shirt aside and easing himself onto the bed. 

Had you known your little temptations and offers of unprotected sex would cause his brain to rewire the idea of having kids- you still would’ve done it. Maybe with a little more tact though. 

Naoya no longer saw it as another responsibility of being head of the clan- he saw it as an opportunity to breed you again- and again. Till you were so full there was no other choice than to get pregnant. 

Suguru Geto

All it took was Suguru showing you pictures of him and the two girls he adopted when he left Jujutsu High and telling you countless stories behind the photos for you to look at him differently. 

You saw a certain change in the way you looked at him. No longer a father figure to two teenage girls, you saw him as an actual father. 

Mouthy and mean as those girls could be, you saw how gentle he was with them anyway. And you knew he could make a phenomenal father. 

You chose a tactless form of asking him. Sitting at the table eating breakfast- looking at his soft expression. 

“Would you be a dad again?” 

Suguru looked at you with furrowed eyebrows- “...Again?” unsure of when the first time he became a father was. 

You rolled your eyes, urging him to answer the question with a sigh. 

“Depends.” Geto murmured, looking back down to his phone and earning a kick from your socked foot. 

You scoffed, “On?” 

“If we are stable- money wise, and if the conditions are right.” he grinned, wondering where this topic came from. 

Your cheeks tingled in the slightest when he used ‘we’ to refer to becoming parents, answering another question you had. 

Suguru thought back to the question again, lightly raising his eyebrows at realizing what you were asking. 

“With…You?” 

You laughed- “No Suguru- with your next partner.” tone full of sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. 

“I would be open..?” he squinted, trying to gauge where you stood on this. Watching your face go unchanged at his response- wanting to hear the truth, not just something that he said catered to your opinion. “...To it?”

You grinned, “Suguru, this isn’t a trick question. Just answer honestly.” assuring him that this was a necessary conversation in a relationship. 

He gulped lightly, trying to shake away the worries of saying the wrong thing. Placing his phone on the table and looking at you with his hands between his knees. “I would love-” he grinned, cheeks blushed and avoidant of your gaze. “To have children with you.” 

You couldn’t help the shy little laugh that left your lips- “But we are a smidge too young- don’t you think?” you grinned, watching his head nod with a scoffing smile. 

“I did the teen dad thing- so maybe a little too young.” he joked- 

You nodded agreeingly, looking at him with love filled eyes- “We’ll wait till we are 40.” you grinned, watching his shoulders move in a small giggle. 

“Till 50- if we can.” 

Kento Nanami

You both had been toying with the idea of children. Small comments like, “Awe Ken-” looking at him with a soft smile. “You would be a wonderful dad.” whenever he talked about the fears of becoming a father. 

The talk of kids was spoken early in your relationship. Often were the times when the conversation of how many would come up a few minutes before bed. 

Playing with your hand in the dark, lying on your back with Nanami beside you. 

“How many?” You asked softly- hearing Nanami hum, close to falling asleep. 

A low exhale left his lips; “Two. Maybe three.” His voice husky from how close he was to falling asleep. But he was always happy to answer your questions- knowing they would keep you up if he didn’t answer. 

Rolling over onto your side and placing your head on his chest, “Twins?” you asked with a smile. Picturing the future with him as he put his hand onto your back.

Nanami let out a soft exhale with a smile. “Twins are a handful,” he spoke softly, his eyes daring to drift off to sleep as you caressed his torso.

You thought about it- remembering that you would have to carry them. “Okay. No twins.” 

Hearing his heartbeat against your ear as you thought of another question. 

“When?” 

Nanami gruffed a soft laugh, rubbing small circles on your back. “We’d have to be married first.” he mumbled. 

“Then wait a year or two.” his voice dwindling its tone as he eased into the exhaustion.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Why?” softly blinking your eyes. 

“A year of blissful marital life before children come into the picture.” Nanami spoke, half asleep, as the tiny part of his brain that filtered his words refused to work. 

You grinned, “You wanna marry me?” softly giggling against his chest.

Nanami sighed- pressing his hand onto your back a little firmer, holding you close. “I do. Dunno why I haven’t ask you yet.” his words breathy and bordering on sleeping. 

“Should get on that-” he exhaled, hearing his breathing ease into a heavier pattern against your ear.

After that, conversations about children only came up more and more. There was talk of names and if you’d move into a house instead of an apartment. 

Slowly your own baby fever stuck onto him- you sending tiktoks of the chunky babies you’d get on your fyp didn’t help either. 

The words “Practicing won’t hurt” were uttered whenever you mentioned the word breeding. All too thankful to the iud you had, knowing the apartment would be crawling with children if you didn’t have it. 

Hiromi Higuruma

When you started letting Hiromi cum inside- he kinda just assumed that you were on something. Never hesitating to give you what you asked him for. 

But Hiromi started getting the hints that you had a particular itch in your brain that only he could scratch. 

The topic came up when you joined him for lunch- sitting outside a sandwich shop and hearing Hiromi talk about a case debriefing after this. 

Too focused on telling you about it before he realized you had stopped listening. 

Eyes looking off to the side and your thumbs twiddling in your lap. 

“Honey?” he asked, looking in the direction you were looking and seeing a mother playing with her child. Snapping your gaze back to him- 

“Sorry.” Softly exhaling, “Sorry- you were saying?” 

Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows, watching your eyes glimmer with a nervous light. Reaching a hand out to yours, “What’s wrong?” he asked- all too intuitive at what the look on your face meant. 

“Nothing- it’s okay.” Squeezing his hand assuringly. 

Hiromi raised a brow- parting his lips about to speak only for you to interrupt him. 

“Do you want kids?” preferring to rip the bandaid off rather than ease into a conversation. 

He inhaled again- only for you to speak again. “With me. I mean.” 

The corners of his lips curled, almost in a teasing smile. 

Hiromi sighed, thinking about the question and looking down to his half-finished sandwich. 

“I’ve never been in a relationship serious enough for the talk of children to come up.” he grinned, leaving your question unanswered. 

“You’ve never thought about it?” holding his hand tightly. Scared that you were illusioning yourself into a future Hiromi didn’t want. 

Hiromi tilted his head- thinking about it.

“I think I do…?” 

You pursed your lips, unsatisfied with the half answer. And Hiromi let out a blushed scoff- “If wanting kids meant wanting them with you- i do.” he clarified. Earning for you to look at him with soft eyes and a wiggling pout. 

“You mean-?” you pouted, looking at him with a soft expression. 

His eyes widened at the sudden severity in your gaze, not knowing how much his confirmation meant to you. 

Raising his hand to your lips and pressing a light peck on his knuckles “Can we?” 

“...Now?” 

You scoffed, “No, not now.” with a soft smile.

Hiromi exhaled, thinking of having an actual child- “How ’bout we focus on getting married first?” 

Choso Kamo

Ever since the first time you had sex- Choso always finished inside, no patience nor ability to time his orgasm and pull out in time. 

Not recalling the repercussions of unprotected sex- nor really caring. 

And when the conversation of children came up- You insisted on giving him an army of children. “I think it’s what you deserve.” To which he looked at you as though something awakened in his mind when you said that. 

While on dates, he would see an overly large family struggling to keep the many children in check. He would look at you and remember what you had said. 

‘An army of children.’

Between the two of you- he caught babyfever first. 

Walking through a strip mall- looking for a new pair of shoes when you passed a baby store. 

Choso tugged your hand, looking at you eagerly and leading you into the store. “Just to look,” he said. 

Holding onto a tiny pair of shoes, looking at you, and presenting them in his palm. “Are these really meant to fit a child?” 

You let out a small giggle, nodding your head yes and watching him prattle around the store. 

Asking you questions- as though you had any more idea than he did. 

Watching your face uninterested in the window shopping he was doing- “You don’t want to have kids anymore?” furrowed eyebrows and determined to cut the window shopping if you didn’t. 

You grinned, “Of course I still want to have kids.” taking his hand and placing it on your tummy as though you were already pregnant. 

Eyes wide and cheeks pink as he rested his hand onto your tummy. “You gotta pump a baby in me first.” Smiling at the fact he was already looking for things for a child that hadn’t been conceived yet. 

His mind sparked the idea of watching you grow big with his child. Made his eye twitch knowing that if you acted on your promise. That image wouldn’t be just an idea in Choso’s mind. 

Marriage didn’t make a difference to him- only a meaningless piece of paper. Like a license, or a ssn number, or money. (he’s in denial)

So the next time you had intercourse- Choso accidentally overstimulated himself. Keeping your words of ‘Pump a baby in me.’ in mind as you allowed him to pump you full of potential children. 

You did say an army of them. And Choso was more than happy to assist in creating the small army. 

-

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭: play fighting with the jjk men!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Promises

Summary: When you wake up to find your house quiet, your first reaction is panic. But after you find Javi and learn what he has planned for you this morning, your mood becomes a whole lot better.

Pairing: Dad!Javi x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K (Y'all I wrote this in like a few hours I was feeling some typa way)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do this pls but also they want another baby), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving) creampie, cum play (ig??), praise kink, the biggest, fattest, nastiest breeding kink (... Don't look at me), ass slapping (but affectionately), mentions of body insecurity post pregnancy, Javi being the biggest menace of all time (this man has a MOUTH on him, lawd have mercy), Javi being the best husband and literally being so in love, it's honestly sickening, Chucho patiently waiting for his next grandchild 9 months from now LMAO

A/N: ... Hey... I'm gonna need all of you to not look at me for the next 7-10 business days after this one.... I'm not sure what's in the water over here, but uh... Yeah. I'll leave it at that. Thanks to @endlessthxxghts for letting me share my horny thots about our favorite dad, sorry for waking up on the feral side of the bed this morning 🥴

Part of the Forever and Always Series!

It was quiet. 

Way too quiet. 

You couldn’t remember a time in the past 5 years where you had woken up to the house being so silent. 

No TV, no commotion, no little squeals and giggles from your girls waiting impatiently for you to get up and out of bed, and if you weren’t already confused enough, you rolled over to be greeted by the empty space where your husband should have been, the usual warmth left radiating after he had gotten out of bed before you long gone. 

But the real kicker was that when you turned back over again to peek at the flashing numbers of your alarm clock, your eyes went wide at a number that you hadn’t seen since well before kids. 

10:39 A.M. 

“Jesus Christ…” You whispered to yourself, frantically rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and tossing the comforter off of your body before scrambling out of bed in distress, as your brain pieced together the worst sort of panicked puzzle as to why it was so late, so quiet, and Javi was nowhere to be found. 

You pushed open the bedroom door, peeking into the hallway, just as ghostly and empty as you had suspected, each of your daughter’s bedroom doors wide open with neither of them in sight.  Rushing back down the hall towards your stairs before stopping in front of Javi’s office, you paused your search at the sound of familiar, muffled humming coming from behind the door. 

Pushing it open, you were shocked to see the image of your husband sitting at his desk, leaning back in his seat with a book in his hand and feet propped up against the wooden surface, quietly humming to himself as he turned a page, seeming completely unbothered by his solitude. As the door creaked open further, it caught Javi’s attention, peeking up from over his book with a smile on his face as he dogeared his current page, pushing himself out of his chair to walk towards you. 

“Wow, look who’s up! I was gonna give you ‘til 11:00 before I really started to get worried. How’d you sleep, Hermosa?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in for a hug, pressing a soft kiss into the sleepy tangles of your hair, gently cupping your face and forcing your worried gaze up towards him. 

“Javi, what’s- what’s going on? Where are the girls? Is everything ok-” Before you could finish the rest of your thought, Javi’s lips were pressed against yours, the familiar bitterness of black coffee and minty gum still lingering in his mouth as he caught the rest of your sentence with his kiss, the hand cupping your cheek now letting his thumb swipe gently across your soft skin. 

“Relájete, mi amor (relax, my love)” Javi laughed, pressing another kiss onto your forehead, smiling down at you, “I know how tired you’ve been the past couple of weeks, and rightfully so. You take such good care of our girls- you are the most incredible mom to them, but it’s only fair that you deserve a break every once and a while, too. So,” he smirked, tightening his grip around your waist, letting his hand creep slowly towards your ass, “I asked my dad last night if I could drop Lucy and Elliot off with him this morning so we could have a day just the two of us. He’s more than happy to keep ‘em for as long as we want, so I figured I'd take him up on the offer and I can get some time alone with my beautiful wife to help her relax and show her how much I appreciate her.” 

You could the anxiety and worry instantly wash away from your body, the fear that had been consuming you since you had woken up now replaced by excited butterflies swirling in your stomach, heat creeping through your cheeks as you smiled back up at him, tears welling in your eyes in appreciation for how goddamn lucky you were to have someone who cared about you as much as Javi did. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, biting at the inside of your lip to try and keep yourself from crying, Javi immediately tilting your chin up towards him in response, softly swiping away the wetness pooling in your eyes. 

“Hermosa…” He cooed, looking you up and down with an empathetic smirk, brushing a stray piece of hair from your bed head out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, “It’s the least I could do. Now, why don’t you go get back into bed. I picked up a breakfast sandwich and coffee for you from Leo’s on the way back from Pop’s place, figured you might be hungry, considering you slept until almost lunch time. And after you finish eating,” He rasped, leaning his head down to nip at your neck, the hot words of his breath dancing against your skin, the shift in his tone instantly sparking a fire in your core, “I think I might be feeling hungry, too.” 

“You are a menace, I hope you know that.” You sighed, trying with every ounce in you to keep your composure, the tickle from Javi’s mustache at least providing some relief from the tension as you burst out into giggles, Javi playing along by digging his fingers into your hips, running his hands along your sides until you had exploded into a fit of laughter, flailing and squirming in his broad grasp. “Stop it, you meanie! You can’t just promise me food and sex and then hold me hostage like this!” 

Finally releasing you, Javi grabbed your face to pull you in for another kiss, this one slow and tender, an electric energy pulsing between the two of you as your lips brushed against one another, only pulling away after Javi’s hand planted a loving smack on your ass, making you squeal in surprise. 

“Go get your ass back in bed, Osita. I’ll be back in a second with breakfast.” 

“Okay.” You giggled, turning back on your heels out the door, but not before turning back around to peek your head through the doorway with a sneaky grin on your face. “And you’ll also be back with sex?” 

“Baby, you have no fucking idea.” 

As you jumped back into bed, tucking yourself back into your sheets, it wasn’t long before Javi was back in your room with the first part of his promised bargain- Your favorite breakfast sandwich and an extra large coffee, grinning in delight as he passed both over to you before settling next to you, wrapping your arm around your shoulder as you demolished the better part of your food. 

“Oh my god, I haven’t had one of these in so long. God, I love you so much.” You sighed, taking another bite of your breakfast as Javi laughed at the ferocity at which your sandwich had disappeared. “I bet the image of this is really doing a lot turn you on for the second half of your promise. If I would have known, I would have at least put on cuter pajamas.” You snickered, gesturing down to your nearly finished food and Javi’s worn, oversized shirt and boxers you still had draped over your body. 

“Shut up. You know I think you look sexy in anything. I love seeing you in my clothes. Drives me fucking crazy. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.” Javi smirked, rubbing his hand along your thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. 

“You just like it when I don’t wear a bra.” You snorted, rolling your eyes at Javi as you crumpled up the wrapper of your finished sandwich, setting it on your nightstand before rolling over to rest your head on Javi’s chest, draping one of your arms across his stomach. “You’re sweet, Jav. Sexy in anything seems like a bit of a stretch, there’s about half my closest I refuse to make eye contact with after having Elliot.”

You let out a quiet sigh, trying to hide the frown pursed between your lips, thinking about how much your body had changed since the first time you had ever worn Javi’s clothes all those years ago. Two kids and lots of time later, you couldn’t help feel a little self conscious about how different you looked from when the two of you had first met. And even though Javi said it to you all the time, it was much easier said than done to always believe it yourself. 

“Hey…” Javi replied softly, looking down at you with a frown on his own face, “Osita, you know I’m being serious, right?” 

“Well, you’re my husband, you kind of have to be.” You huffed, half forcing your laughter as you immediately began to feel yourself become more and more conscious of your weight laying on top of him, almost trying to shift yourself away before Javi’s hand was wrapped around your back, pulling you over to lay completely on top of him and forcing you to look at his serious expression. 

“Out of all the women in the world, you are the only one I ever want. You are just as beautiful, if not even more beautiful than the day I first met you, you know why? Because your beautiful body that I love every fucking inch of has grown and carried our daughters. You’ve made me a dad, you’ve given us a family, you are the most incredible wife and mom I could ever imagine. Baby, if that’s not the fucking sexiest thing, then I don’t know what to tell you.” You could feel the warmth blooming in your chest as Javi looked up at you with his sweet brown eyes, his hands roaming down the sides of your body until his fingers were digging into your hips and ass, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp. “Promise me.” 

“Promise you what?” You whispered, an ache beginning to grow between your legs as you could feel Javi’s bulge hardening beneath you, his hands roaming relentlessly around your body, making it hard for you to even think straight. 

“Promise me,” He paused, nipping at your neck, the bridge of his nose dragging along the side of your face until his mouth was ghosting over your ear, his words dancing against your skin, “Promise me that you believe me. That I think that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I love your body so fucking much, that I wanna put another baby into it.”  

His last sentence had your heart literally skipping a beat, a quiet moan escaping from your lips as Javi carefully rolled your body off of his, flipping you onto your back and caging you under his broadness, planting hot, wet kisses down your neck as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his hands creeping below the fabric to palm at your breasts, rolling your pebbled nipples between his fingers as he waited for your response. Unfortunately, the best you could muster was a soft gasp of his name. 

“Fuck… Javi.” 

“That what you want, Hermosa? For me to fuck another baby into you, huh?” 

Javi knew it was exactly what you wanted, the two of you agreeing you were going to try for a third a few weeks ago, considering he was almost more ecstatic at the thought of growing your family than you were, and that the thought of knocking you up was something that made both of you absolutely insatiable. 

With the wet patch in your underwear growing damper and damper by the second, you barely had enough power in your brain to respond, especially now that Javi had pulled your shirt over your head, letting his kisses travel down your collarbone, chest, and now to your breasts, taking the nipples that he had been toying with between his fingers into his mouth, his tongue flicking and sucking at the harden buds as your moans began to grow like the fire in your belly. 

“Yes, oh fuck- yes. I want you to fuck another baby into me, Javi. Please.” You whimpered, your body squirming under his touch as he let his kisses drift down your stomach and hips, his fingers hooking over your shorts to pull them down off your legs, gently nudging them to fall open for him as he nestled himself between, admiring the wet, aching mess you had already become. 

“Then you have to promise me,” He smirked, draping each of your legs over his shoulders as he brought his face to your soaking heat, gently kissing your clit and letting the strong bridge of his nose ghost over your folds, “You have to promise me that you believe me. That you believe that you’re the most fucking beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Then, I’ll fuck another baby into you, okay? Can you do that for me, Momma?” 

“I- I- pr-promise.” Your voice trembled, ragged with want and desperation as Javi’s mouth hovered painstakingly still over your cunt, waiting for you to fulfill your promise so he could fill you with his. 

“There’s my good girl.” He cooed, feeling his smug smile bury itself into your pussy, letting a long, broad stroke of his tongue drag through your folds, the satisfying sensation making you shutter, your hips instinctively bucking towards Javi’s face as his grip around your legs tightened to hold you in place. His tongue languidly dragged across your cunt, slowly circling around your clit, soaking up the juices of your arousal that had been pooling between your legs, drinking up every single last drop. 

He let the presses of his tongue become firmer and more focused as he unhooked one of his arms, snaking his arm between your legs to gently press two fingers into your soaking entrance, easily sliding through your slick to curl against the soft spot inside you that had you relentlessly crying out his name. 

You couldn’t help but feel your bottom half squirm against your sheets, reaching down to tug at the dark curls of Javi’s hair, trying to find any sort of relief to keep from being a loud, moaning and whimpering mess as his tongue worked along your cunt, lapping you up like a man starved. His mouth latched along your clit, sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers pumped inside you, making the tingle at the base of your spine already begin to build in a needy desperation. 

“Javi, holy fuck- oh my god baby, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You whimpered, somehow managing to keep your voice just above a whisper as Javi pulled away to respond, still holding a steady pace with his hand as he felt your pussy start to flutter around his fingers. 

“I’ve got you, Hermosa. Want you to soak my face before I feel you cum again around my cock. Give it to me, baby. Cum all over me before I fucking fill you up.”

With that, he was back between your legs, relentlessly working along your heat with his mouth as the coil in your belly wound so tightly, you were on the brink of snapping. 

“Javi, Javi, Javi, oh shit- Fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaahhhhhhhhh.” 

It was barely seconds before your orgasm flooded through your body, pleasure spreading through every inch of you as you clenched around Javi’s fingers, soaking his hand and face with your arousal as you came, screaming out his name as you reached your high. 

That’s it, Hermosa.” Javi smirked, squeezing his hand into the meat of your thigh as you rode out your orgasm, still slowly fucking you with his fingers as you came undone around them, your cunt clamping down on the delicious curve of his digits. Javi peeked his head back up as your breathing began to even out, your chest rising and falling in satisfaction as his kisses began to travel back up your body, stopping at your neck to take extra time to nip along your jawline, his teeth tugging at your earlobe as his voice rasped against your skin. 

“Such a good girl for me, Osita. So fucking wet. Fuck, I need to feel you, baby.” 

Before you even had time to catch your breath, Javi had his arms wrapped around your waist, flipping you over on to your stomach, dragging his hands down your back, stopping at your ass to grab a handful of the plump flesh and smack it, nudging your legs to spread open for him wider, pushing them out with his own. 

Javi worked behind you quickly and methodically, shedding himself of all of his clothes to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers, leaking with precum from the minute he had thought of the prospect of putting another baby in you. 

He stroked himself a few times, using his other hand to swipe through your folds, coating his fingers in your slick before wrapping them around his cock, now shiny with your arousal as he lined up with your entrance, filling you up inch by inch, almost painfully slowly, until he had bottomed out inside you, his hips flushed against your ass, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch. 

“Javi… Move, baby, please. I need to feel yo- Oh fuck!” You whimpered, your words drowned out by your moans as Javi had pulled himself out, only to thrust his whole length back into, gritting his teeth while a groan rumbled deep in his chest, draping his body over yours, burying one of his hands in your hair, gently tugging at the ends as he whispered into your ear, keeping his slow and meticulous pace. 

“You wanna feel me too, sweet girl? Wanna feel me fill you up when I fuck every last drop into you? Fuck myself so deep inside you it’ll fucking take? That what you want, baby?” 

“Yes, fuck, fuck, yes, please. Fuck, I want you fuck a baby into me, Javi. I wanna make you a Daddy again.” 

Another deep moan feel from Javi’s lips, scooping his hand under you to sit in his lap, your back flushed against his chest, one hand palming at your breast, the other wrapped around your waist, holding you in place as his pace began to increase, just enough to hear the wetness between the two of you with each thrust of his hips. 

You couldn’t help but let your bottom half grind deeper into each stroke, pushing yourself further and further down onto his cock, the sweet stretch of his fullness making your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head, the wanton moans and whimpers babbling from your mouth almost as lewd as the sounds your bodies made as they melded into one another as you let him take everything you had to give. 

“Fuck me- That’s what you want, Momma? Fuck, I can’t wait to get you pregnant. See how beautiful you look carrying our baby again. Let everyone know you’re fucking mine with our baby growning inside you.” Letting his hand shift from your breast, he began sliding it up your chest, wrapping it around your jaw to tilt your head over your shoulder towards him, staring into his deep brown eyes before engulfing your lips in a long, wet kiss, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth without ever relenting his pace. 

His other hand dipped between your legs to circle your clit, still sensitive and swollen from your first orgasm, now throbbing even harder from his touch and feeling the heat beginning to bloom in  your belly as you felt your second high begin to approach. 

Javi knew just as well as you did that you were close to cumming again, feeling your pussy begin to flutter around his cock as his hips slapped against yours, breaking from your kiss to tug your earlobe between his teeth.

“Give me one more, Osita. Cum all over my cock and I’ll fill you up. Fill up this pretty little pussy ‘til she’s fucking stuffed and it’s got no choice but to fucking take and I knock you up.” 

“You promise?” You whispered, your breath shaky and legs trembling as Javi rubbed tighter, faster circles around your clit, still cradling your jaw to force your gaze on him. 

“I promise, baby. I fucking promise.” 

Almost instantly, you could feel the coil that had been winding tighter and tighter in your core suddenly began to snap, screaming out Javi’s name as you felt your second orgasm crash through you, consuming every inch of your body in euphoria, feeling like you had turned to Jello, the only thing keeping you up being Javi’s firm grasp around you. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. That’s it. Fuck, I’m close too, baby.” He mewled, his pace becoming frantic and sloppy as he held you up, fucking you through your high with reckless abandon, wanting to, no needing, to make sure he made good on his promise- that in 9 months from now, you’d have one more member in your family. 

Even though you were barely hanging on by a thread, you could feel Javi’s grip tightening around your jaw, tilting it back towards him, the firm pressure cupping your face enough to force your eyes open to meet the wrecked and ragged expression plastered across his face. 

“Eyes on me, Hermosa. Fuck, I need to- mierda- need to see that pretty face when I fuck you full of me. God, I love you so much, I love you so-ahhhhhhh, fuck.” It was then Javi’s turn to follow suit, only needing a few more pumps before he thrusted up once more, keeping himself buried deep inside your cunt as hot ropes of his spend covered your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop before even thinking of pulling out. 

Holding you in place still sitting on his cock, you could feel the mixture of the two of you beginning to drip down your thighs, prompting Javi to gently ease you off of him, letting your back hit the bed as carefully lifted your hips to slip one of the pillows underneath your bottom half, briefly admiring the wet mess between your legs before taking two fingers and collecting the arousal that had leaked from your cunt, attentively dragging it up your thighs and pushing it back into your heat, making you gasp at the sensation. 

“Gonna keep you full of me all day, sweet girl. Gotta make good on my promise.” He smirked, leaning down to pepper soft kisses to the inside of your thighs before slowly making his way back up your body, stopping at your lips for another tender kiss. 

“Given what just happened, I think you’re trying to kill me before you can make good on that promise, Jav. Jesus Christ.” You sighed, your voice riddled with breathy giggles as you playfully nudged your husband, now lying next to you, pulling you in to rest against the warmth of his bare chest. “You think Peña number 3 is gonna make an appearance soon?” 

“Like I said, mi amor, promise is a promise.” He smirked, boyish grin plastered across his face as he laid your hand across your stomach, gently rubbing it back and forth across your skin. “Plus, I think the girls will be thrilled to have another sister.” 

“Sister, huh? We don’t even know if there’s a baby in there yet you dork, let alone what it’s gonna be.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi. 

“Been right about the other two. I’ll bet you all the breakfast sandwiches you want that it is.” 

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, I hope you know that. Thank you for this morning, Jav. The girls and I are so lucky to have you. I love you so much.” You sighed contently, smiling into Javi’s soft skin. 

“I love you too, Hermosa. All of you are the best things that have ever happened to me. All of my girls.” He winked, gently squeezing the curves of your belly, gesturing towards the daughter he proudly assumed he would be meeting in 9 months. 

“Well, all of us, or your new son and my unlimited amount of breakfast sandwiches.” you snickered, “When did your dad need us to go pick up the girls? We probably owe him a few breakfast sandwiches for watching the gremlins on such short notice.” 

“He said any time later today. Which means…” He smiled, caging his body over yours once again, as much time as we need to make sure that I win our bet.” 

“Game on, Peña.”

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

[1eoness]

professor!re4r leon fucking u.. i think (or at least wanting to fuck u)

cw content : leon size kink kennedy (jk) | sub-afab-fem-reader and dom!leon kennedy | age gap(ur 22 he's 27), leon masturbating, penetration, slightly weird ooc leon ♡

[to clarify, i am 18. anyone <18 and anyone >18 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

authors note bc i love rambling; btw i'm writing this in public at some boba cafe can u believe that lol im literally supposed to be studying but hwatever fuck it leon make me go blaahhhhhh. btw what do i call this? a fic?blurb?drabble? idklmfao by the way i have NO idea on how to write professor x reader shit so im sorrhy if this sucks ass.

synopsis : conflicted and flustered professor!leon kennedy of your local college struggles to improve his class' average because students like you—incompetent, airheaded, spoiled and klutzy— make it difficult for him :(

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you heard the rustling of laptop bags and stationery as leon's students left for that morning lecture. though, they moved slow and drowsy; for leon is sure nowadays this generation can't afford to wake up at 6:00 in the morning to prepare for a 7 a.m. lecture on "deviance and crime control."

especially you.

kennedy is a sharp man. he harps on students even if they get a B on any assignment, but he swears it's on his tough love (to which a lot of students aren't really aware of, just that they know this stoic pretty-face of a man has high standards.)

he is also keen on attendance. something girls like you seem to take lightly. it was absurd, really. most professors don't give a shit, do they?

it would've been fine with leon if you missed lectures even twice a week as long as you emphasized your understanding of his lessons through putting stellar effort on your schoolwork. but the best you've gotten on his class was a B- drawing close to a C+.

so, he needs to have a chat with you. urgently.

"l/n, i need to speak with you." leon spoke, confrontative as his black jeans peered from your right peripheral vision. he stood tall beside the edge of the table where you sat. jesus, was he trying to give you a heart attack? (he always had this habit, he'd just pop out of nowhere. he has silent feet.)

yes, you may have missed his lectures from monday to thursday to go to macedonia with your family: but if leon were given the opportunity for a vacation he would snag it too, right?

you looked up at the young professor, wide-eyed and a bit intimidated. what the hell did you do this time? you closed your laptop, gave leon your full attention. leon has also noticed this about you; you're quick to pay attention but you have the memory span of a dumb rabbit. maybe even the IQ of one too, if leon was rude enough.

so you sat there, hands on your lap as you fiddled with the pleats of your blue plaid skirt. the color makes his heart beat a little—he loves the color blue. and the way it looked on you... wait, no. what the hell was he thinking?

"you couldn't even spare the few minutes to e-mail me that you'd be missing four- four, of my classes in one week." he emphasized with a slate tone, and the way his eyes peered down at you added that he needed your reasoning of the situation. he'd love to hear what you had to say for yourself. "i had to talk to your friend, ashley, for some clarification. even the president's daughter has the dignity to show up to my class with a verbal apology." leon scolded as his fingertips met the pages of your notebook. did you even care about his classes? :(

much to your chagrin, your lips were pressed in sheepish silence. hopeless, even. you didn't even have anything to say for yourself? how pitiable.

you simply can't miss class, that wasn't right! just because you thought you could hide in the shadows amidst leon's collective of 73 students (yes he counts), you aren't out of his eyes. in fact, you stood out to him even if you were just an incompetent scholar.

he sighed at your silence. "fair enough, an apology can't compensate for your lack of presence or decorum." he then placed your paper on the desk, you had gotten a D. you were never a bad student but this was your first D ever! your eyes widened and he caught on even though he could only see the crown of your hair. "surprised? because i'm not." leon uttered flatly while his pale fingers flipped through the papers right in front of you. you even spotted a few contractions— when did you even pass this?!

but you weren't a bad girl to him, no. you were capable of shame and guilt. you looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes and training your vision to the floor. you felt low, disappointing a professor that gave you numerous chances to break out of your awkward shell.

"you're a smart girl, you know that?" he finally sighed softly. he wanted you to look at him, make him another promise that you'll start putting effort in his class. he needed to maintain his class's average or else he'd prove he was an inept professor, and he can't do that when he lets 'students like you' get away with shabby attendance and subpar schoolwork. "i don't just give students chances. but that doesn't make you special." and it was true—he's voluntarily failed 6 of his students before. "you'll do something about this, right?"

"yes, professor kennedy.." you muttered modestly.

"hmm?" he hummed inquisitively as he took your paper back. he was willing to give you a chance. "listen to me. i'll give you the chance to redo your paper. i know when students rush their work and if i see even a hint of redundancy in it—i will take all my chances back. and you are never taking absences from my class. i don't want you entering even a minute late, or leaving a second early. i hope we're clear, l/n."

naturally, you were scared. so you nodded up at him after countless confirmations that you will do you work and that you'll show up to class no matter what. he has to use your word against you, he's sorry but it's for your own good.

once he was satisfied, he gave you a nod and turned his side, dismissing you. after all, leon was a busy man. you're not his only student.

it was when you walked out the building and then 20 minutes away from it that you felt like crying. you hated being scolded by him :( but just when you were about to go through your bag for your handkerchief, you were stuck with an inconvenient realization. you forgot your handkerchief.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

leon just stared at the table where you sat from just now, backpack strap over his shoulders since he was just about to leave. he gripped onto either of them slowly as he stared down at your handkerchief in contemplation.

a twofold baby-blue hankie embedded with a subtle floral print. tentatively, he picks it up with his hand and examines it. for a minute his mind went blank, conflicting between chasing you and just returning it to you or to leave it by the lecture podium for her to retrieve tomorrow (when you hopefully attend his lesson again.)

..but blue was his favorite color.

"damn it." leon, with a barely audible mutter, shoved the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. he felt like the most guilty man in the world, poor boy.

...

leon sighed.

he wasn't celibate.

his hormones were in shambles once he got to his place. perhaps part of it was because he knew he hasn't graded the recent tests yet.

manspreading, tie loose, shirt stuffy and jeans undone while his hair wisped in slightly disheveled directions. cold breaths followed out his pretty mouth.

"nnn..fuck.. uhh-" leon whimpered into the baby blue cloth, laced with your perfume. he felt so guilty, so perverted. he shuddered every time he could see over the edges of the cloth, seeing his cream-leaking tip from previous orgasms spurt teasingly. "ahh- fuuuck, p-please-"

his grunts were high. he was close to crying, staining your pretty handkerchief with guilty-pleasure-ridden tears. spilled milk, it trailed down his pretty shaft as he pumped it over and over. his motive was you— you were just so fucking stupid and had so much naivete, it absolutely vexed him knowing how endearing you were.

until a slip of leon's mouth surprised him, earning a small squeak from him as he accidentally muffled your name in your cloth. "fuck, y/n- a-ahh.. u-uhh..hmfff.." he was frustrated; whining and cumming while his mind stirred with the thought of you and your pretty eyes and the photographic memory of your dumbstricken face.

he gave out a tired whine into the cloth, so, so close to crying his frustrations out. he just wanted to eat you. christ, and he was so hard for you it made his head ache..

he could only watch his girth that pulsed with white. he pried the sweet handkerchief off his lips, breathing roughly and wiping his tears. he felt so, so sorry for you. the color of the cloth looked exactly like the skirt you wore yesterday. and yet to top it off, he (ashamedly) wiped his cum off with your dainty cloth. oh, he's so sorry..

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

he didn't want to come to this point. or maybe he did and god was force-feeding him with culpability (he's atheist). he offered once to tutor you personally. one-on-one, no distractions. and so suddenly, someone's skirt was on his clean carpet floor..

your blouse draped over your shoulder and was pulled above your bra carelessly. he handled you with so much ease, squishing you into position while he tried to slowly push his thick length into your syrupy hole. you bit the knuckle of your thumb, and whimpered timidly that he was too big. but look where you were now.

"fuck- you're so- you feel so good.. shut up and take it all, yeah?.. hmmff-" there leon goes, harping you again. you were so loud but it wasn't even your fault, not when he was pistoning his cock into you and paying no hesitation to his pace. you were simply too sweet for him not to please. "sweetheart, hold onto me.." he mutters.

he was pushing every squeak and cute little wail out of his pathetic student, rutting his tip into that spot. "n-nnghh- aah!~" you were running low on words.

"yeah?- mhmm...ffuck, right here? huh?" the feeling of him thrusting against that spongy part more and more sent your mind further into autopilot. you were past squirming around and pushing him away, you just had to take it.. and take it.. and you were doing so good ♡.

"l-leoonn.. m-mm!- fffeels t-too good-" you babbled, mind stuffy with the pleasurably-shameful feeling of being gorged with your professor's thick girth. he shuddered at the way you uttered his name so adoringly. to leon you were so dirty but so, so cute. he had you puddled into tears beneath him while he fucked into your cute little hole with fervor. he just wanted to stuff you full, make you his, adore you forever.

he whined softly into your shoulder. you kept clenching down on him and it made him impossible to think. his phone was ringing on his bedside but he doesn't even give a shit—if anything he tried to drown it out by thrusting into you faster, to which made him lament into your skin. he even adjusted your hips up impossibly further.

"l-leeonn, n-no..— n-no more, please!!-" you blabbered adorably, voice mumbly and whiny as you clawed at his shoulders or back— you didn't know anymore.

"shhh shh.." he cooed over your cries with a quiet and honeyed voice, planting a soft kiss to where he could reach on your face or head. "i know, i know, it feels so good, hm?.. just let it feel good, baby—ahh, fuck-.. uhh..." he moaned lowly into your shoulder, unable to stop the way he rutted his cock into your creamed-up cunt. you seemed to be enjoying it, so why were you complaining? leon thinks to himself smugly but he knows he can't act on his pride. after all you made him like this—submitting to his carnal urges...

you didn't wanna cum a third time, huh? silly little girl.

leon growled quietly into the crook where your neck and shoulder met. you've never heard that sound from him. he held you down, constraining you, and squished you further into his mattress. a helpless and surprised yelp lolled out your tongue as he went impossibly quicker while he cursed like he was about to break down in tears. leon was mercilessly grinding his cock into all your sensitive spots, not letting your pleas of retort contest him. "fuckfuck- u-uhhh, take it, baby, c'mon... do it f'me, it's gonna feel so good-.. ahh!-"

he couldn't even finish his sentence—just piping his cum in you roughly as if he were proving a point, growling whinily along the way. he even kept fucking you shallowly while you were a dumb, sniffling mess with no sense of self-assertion as you creamed all over his shaft uncontrollably a third time. consecutive and quiet whimpers could be heard from you while you soaked in your overstimulation, needing him desperately to reassure you again through the overbearing pleasure of being pushed past what your cunny can handle.

"poor baby." he muttered to himself breathily as he gave the last of his tired, frustrated thrusts and pulled out of you; giving you the time to breathe while he pats your hair down comfortingly. his fluttering eyes finally closed as his head found refuge in your neck, slightly limp with exhaustion as he huffed cold breaths on the wet patches of your skin.

he pulled his head away after a minute of regaining what's left of his strength. leon looked down at you with subtle puppylike eyes, like he was sorry for ever being so harsh on you; even before he fucked the shit out of you. you quietly took your handkerchief to wipe some sweat off his neck— and his cheeks went a little rosy, remembering what he did to it that day you "lost" it ♡.

seems detergent can't wash something like lust away!

[posttexasstressdisorder]

They killed our Jesus: A Lament for Generation Jones

Two things happened in 1980 that would ensure the iron grip of the fascist state would (first slowly, then quickly), tighten on the entirety of the nation's populace from that moment forward: Ronald fucking Reagan was installed as president, and a CIA-psyop'd Christian Nationalist shot and killed John Lennon.

Those two things are connected.

First let's look at exactly who "Generation Jones" encompasses, and specific moments in the generational timeline that defined our future. The wiki page is actually quite good. Here's an excerpt that really hits it on the head:

"The name "Generation Jones" has several connotations, including a large anonymous generation, a "keeping up with the Joneses" competitiveness and the slang word "jones" or "jonesing", meaning a yearning or craving.[17][18][19] Pontell suggests that Jonesers inherited an optimistic outlook as children in the 1960s, but were then confronted with a different reality as they entered the workforce during Reaganomics and the shift from a manufacturing to a service economy, which ushered in a long period of mass unemployment. Mortgage interest rates increased to above 12 percent in the mid-eighties,[20] making it virtually impossible to buy a house on a single income. De-industrialization arrived in full force in the mid-late 1970s and 1980s; wages would be stagnant for decades, and 401Ks replaced pensions, leaving them with a certain abiding "jonesing" quality for the more prosperous days of the past.

Generation Jones is noted for coming of age after a huge swath of their older brothers and sisters in the earlier portion of the Baby Boomer population had; thus, many note that there was a paucity of resources and privileges available to them that were seemingly abundant to older Boomers. Therefore, there is a certain level of bitterness and "jonesing" for the level of doting and affluence granted to older Boomers but denied to them.[21]"

That sets the stage, for the most part. I was four when JFK was shot on TV. I was a wide-eyed, open-eared five year old when The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan and The Supremes were on the radio. I was ten when we landed on the moon, and I wanted to be a hippie at Woodstock at eleven. "Basketball Jones" came out when I was 12...I jonesed for a telescope because SPACE and got one from that great maker of fine telescopes, KMart.

Generationally, we jonesed to be ten years older, so we could have had all the cool shit THEY had. They had The Beatles, and we had the solo Beatles, they had Hendrix, Cream, Jefferson Airplane, and we had the fucking BeeGees and disco. It's like we, as a generation, were fated to live The K-Mart Knockoff of Life, instead of the bright, shiny Brand Name One all our older brothers and sisters got.

MUSIC and SCIENCE were EVERYTHING to us as kids/teens...the Eshittification Of Music truly began in 1973, and proceeded through SynthPop Hell in the '80s. Rock and Roll heroes became hairdos with guitars. The rock heroes of the '60s were getting married and having kids and baking bread. AM Radio ceased to be something you listened to for music...it began to replace music with strident, screaming hate voices that would eventually engulf all of AM Radio 24/7/365.

We were continually thwarted most of the way from our young adulthood on, blatantly from the moments in 1980 that the vile Ronald Reagan and the core operatives of evil for the next 50 years took over, and then the moment of what I call "Our Generational Wounding", the murder of John Lennon.

Back in '66, John had inflamed all the grandpas of todays magats by saying (truthfully) that with teens, The Beatles were more popular than Jesus. Beatle hate became a Very Big Thing in Bumfuck South Texas. Record burnings, merchandise burnings, book burnings, all were commonplace. A very palpable, and very specifically "Anti-Beatle" hate got instilled in a lot of kids/teens at that point, so anything to do with the Beatles was taboo for "good people" (read Southern Baptists) to like.

That, of course, made me love them that much more, and to follow their paths from their breakup forward with 'bated breath, buying every 45 they put out, trying to save pennies up to buy their albums.

John was the radical hippie, the one who wanted peace, the one with the weirdo wife, the one who held a "Bed-In" for peace. In a very fundamental-to-our-generation way, John Lennon was OUR "Jesus".

Richard Nixon (president from '68 to '74) HATED him.

In 1971, there was a true mass consciousness that incorporated us along with our older siblings, a musical mass consciousness. I became aware of many things in 1969, specifically fall of '69, so I was experiencing all this in real-time, as it happened. When the news that The Beatles officially broke up came across the AM radiowaves in May of '70, it was A. Very. Big. Deal. Everyone watched everything they did from that point on with GREAT interest.

George put out "My Sweet Lord" and "What Is Life" (first record I ever bought), John put out "Instant Karma", "Mother", then "Power To The People", then "Imagine". Ringo put out "It Don't Come Easy", and Paul & Linda had "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey". EVERYBODY was a "post-breakup Beatle critic", panning Paul's very first solo 45 "Another Day", "Uncle Albert" was the followup. This band called Badfinger that sounded suspiciously like The Beatles appeared on American radio, and would make 1972 one of the final "Golden Years" of AM Rock Radio.

In 1970 we heard about this Elton John guy, by the end of '72, I was playing as many of his songs on the piano as I could figure out. My favorite album was (still is) "Madman Across The Water". When "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" came out in '73, a very noticeable shift was occuring.

Pop became much less political. It softened. It mellowed. It grew its hair long and lived in the country, learned how to grow potatoes and play the mandolin, making Country Rock the one lasting "legacy" of our sad sub-generation. By the time I graduated HS in May of '77, it was all there was on the radio, besides....disco. Oof.

One of my first TV memories was JFK getting shot. That was the Generational Wounding of our older brothers and sisters. When Mark Chapman (a Christian nationalist who changed the words of "Imagine" to "Imagine there's no John Lennon") shot John in December of 1980, it was the 2 in the 1-2 PUNCH done to our OUR generation. The first, of course, being the installing of Reagan and the evil Evangelical influence beginning in earnest.

It also began the buildup of the "Holy War" radical right, and an utter denial and clampdown of "hippie", of "counterculture" in general began, ensuring that John's vision of world peace would never come true, at least not on their watch. They had, effectively, killed OUR Jesus, along with our chances of the kind of security our older sibs got in spades. It also marked the unholy marriage of the evangelicals and the republican apparatus.

When Reagan got elected by virtue of the vile Newt Gingrich's 'Southern Strategy', a clampdown in earnest on the very SPIRITUAL EXISTENCE of our generation's incredible want and need, our collective JONESING for world peace began. Richard Nixon had planted the seeds. Nixon hated John Lennon with a passion. After Reagan was elected, I firmly believe Chapman was "activated" and they killed John as a Christmas present to Nixon.

It was after that, when the dream of a scientific future began to die, as well. When we were in high school, SCIENCE WAS EVERYTHING, so we wanted to be some kind of scientist "when we grew up".

I dealt with four years of college, majored in Biology, and in early 1981 realized my dream of being a Forest Ranger in Yosemite or some other national park somewhere, living in a cabin, giving talks to visitors about the biology aspects of the park....all that went POOF, almost instantaneously. My degree would get me nowhere, so I left before the end of that year and started working in record stores.

I was effectively the Cusack character in the movie about record stores, but it led to a dead end. Record stores weren't all that glamorous, and yes, the pay was dogshit. I tried working in record stores for the love of the music, while trying to BE a musician in a town FILLED OVER FLOWING with musicians, but that was quickly shat on by the beginning shrieks of late-stage capitalism.

It was like working in the record stores was my trying to keep holding onto the dream, our generation's dream...John's dream of world peace (along with my dream of being a working musician) died a pitiful death by the end of 1986.

What followed was nothing but a series of Jobs I Hated, and the beginnings of the true Jonesing for the life we'd been promised, because we didn't get the raises, the pensions, the house, the car, boat and camper, none of that shit for us. A life of being a low-paid, no-insurance drub, destined to be a life-long renter, unless a financial miracle happens.

So when people ask why we (as a generation) hate Ronald Reagan so much, let's just say I'm with Bugs on this one.

[animusrox]

LETTERBOXD

1.   The Batman 2.   Everything Everywhere All at Once 3.   Prey 4.   Triangle of Sadness 5.   Barbarian 6.  The Northman 7.   Bodies Bodies Bodies 8.   The Banshees of Inisherin 9.   Bones and All 10.   Avatar: The Way of Water

Grade A

11.   Turning Red 12.   The Menu 13.   Babylon 14.   Hit the Road 15.   Cow 16.   Watcher 17.   Funny Pages 18.   Mad God 19.   On the Count of Three 20.   Armageddon Time 21.   Terrifier 2 22.   Marcel the Shell with Shoes On 23.   Smile 24.   Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery 25.   Holy Spider 26.   Aftersun 27.   The Fabelmans 28.   Breaking 29.   Decision to Leave 30.   The Whale 31.   All Quiet on the Western Front 32.   Brian and Charles 33.   Piggy 34.   Saint Omer 35.   Thirteen Lives 36.   Men 37.   The Fallout 38.   Resurrection 39.   Causeway 40.  The Black Phone 41.   Official Competition 42.   Nope 43.  Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio 44.   Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood 45.   Till 46.   TÁR 47.   Happening 48.   A Love Song 49.   The Outfit 50.   The Innocents 51.   Jackass Forever 52.   BARDO, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths 53.   Montana Story 54.   Three Thousand Years of Longing 55.   You Won’t Be Alone 56.   The Sadness 57.   Halloween Ends 58.   Pearl 59.   X 60.   Vesper

Click "Keep Reading” For My Full List

Grade B

61.   This Place Rules 62.   Fresh 63.   Windfall 64.   Kimi 65.   No Exit 66.   Top Gun: Maverick 67.   “Sr.” 68.   Farha 69.   The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent 70.   Weird: The Al Yankovic Story 71.   Nitram 72.   Speak No Evil 73.   Run Sweetheart Run 74.   She Said 75.   White Noise 76.   Puss in Boots: The Last Wish 77.   V/H/S/99 78.   The Wonder 79.   Women Talking 80.   Hatching 81.   Soft & Quiet 82.   Scream 83.   To Leslie 84.   Hustle 85.   Chip ’n Dale: Rescue Rangers 86.   Dual 87.   God’s Country 88.   Emancipation 89.   Vengeance 90.   Fire of Love 91.   Bullet Train 92.   Incantation 93.   The Valet 94.   Hellraiser 95.   Christmas Bloody Christmas 96.   Significant Other 97.   Cha Cha Real Smooth 98.   Lucy and Desi 99.   Not Okay 100.   A Christmas Story Christmas 101.   Blonde 102.   Deadstream 103.   Sissy

Grade C

104.   The Bad Guys 105.   The Cursed 106.   Empire of Light 107.   A Man Called Otto 108.   Broker 109.   Black Panther: Wakanda Forever 110.   The Princess 111.   Beast 112.   After Yang 113.   RRR 114.   Fall 115.   Jackass 4.5 116.   Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe 117.   Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness 118.   Jennifer Lopez: Halftime 119.   Lightyear 120.   The Pale Blue Eye 121.   The Woman King 122.   Violent Night 123.   God’s Creatures 124.   Ambulance 125.   Elvis 126.   You Are Not My Mother 127.   Emily the Criminal 128.   Crimes of the Future 129.   The Apology 130.   The Lost City 131.   Wendell & Wild 132.   Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99 133.   The Found Footage Phenomenon 134.   See How They Run 135.   Spiderhead 136.   Studio 666 137.   Bros 138.   Spin Me Round 139.   We’re All Going to the World’s Fair 140.   Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank 141.   Honor Society

Grade D

142.   Thor: Love and Thunder 143.   Summering 144.   Strange World 145.   Glorious 146.   The Gray Man 147.   Devotion 148.   Clerks III 149.   The Forgiven 150.   Enola Holmes 2 151.   Father Stu 152.   Jurassic World Dominion 153.   DC League of Super-Pets 154.   She Will 155.   The Bob’s Burgers Movie 156.   Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody 157.   Hellbender 158.   Samaritan 159.   Day Shift 160.   Sonic the Hedgehog 2 161.   Prey for the Devil 162.   Troll 163.   Uncharted 164.  Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile 165.   Dashcam 166.   Firestarter 167.   Do Revenge 168.   Catwoman: Hunted 169.   The Munsters 170.   Amsterdam 171.   Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

Grade F

172.   Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris 173.   The Bubble 174.   Dead for a Dollar 175.   Jerry & Marge Go Large 176.   Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul. 177.   Infinite Storm 178.   Marry Me 179.   Don’t Worry Darling 180.   Spirited 181.   Disney's Pinocchio 182.   Alice 183.   Black Adam 184.   Orphan: First Kill 185.   The Adam Project 186.   The Invitation 187.   Texas Chainsaw Massacre 188.   Ticket to Paradise 189.   The 355 190.   Umma

Bottom 10

191.   Green Lantern: Beware My Power 192.   Deep Water 193.   Where the Crawdads Sing 194.   Blacklight 195.   Mack & Rita 196.   Memory 197.   Me Time 198.   Death on the Nile 199.   Morbius 200.   Moonfall

[enlitment]

The Voltaire-Rousseau Beef aka V v. JJ part III.

for @stars-in-the-night , @headsinsand and other great (and amazingly patient) readers

part 1 ; part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

7. THE ORPHANAGE (to be read in Eliza Hamilton's voice)

The one thing from his personal life that Rousseau is probably best remembered for is the fact that he gave up all five children he had with his long-term partner, Thérèse, to a Parisian orphanage. One after the other, in what could be called a rapid succession, a simple case of salut and adieu.

The reasons he gave for his behaviour differ from ‘I have fallen with a bad crowd in Paris and this is just what people around me did’ and ‘I basically had no other option anyway’ (not true, he could have married Thérèse and try to make it work. Sure, money was tight, and someone could make a few snarky remarks about the first baby looking surprisingly big for a six-month old or whatever, but these things happened quite regularly. Also, Diderot married his working-class mistress despite his father’s stern disapproval. Just saying) to – now this comes up somewhat later in the Confessions and is significantly darker – ‘I really hated Thérèse’s family and thought it would be better to let my kids be raised by the state than be around them’.

If this was him trying to break a cycle of generational trauma though – perhaps one of the side of his own family as well –  I’d argue there were far better ways of going about it. There’s also potentially one even darker, quasi-psychoanalytical reason for this now infamous choice, but it’s probably best to steer clear of Freud. Nothing good usually comes out of it.

Of course, doing something like this would make anyone seem like a douchebag, but a guy famous for writing a treatise on how to best raise children?* Guy who repeatedly argued that the single purpose of a woman’s life is to be a mother? Now that’s a hypocrisy so deliciously juicy that one simply cannot resist sharing it with the world!

*interestingly enough, he insists in the Confessions that he wanted to reveal this information in his On Education (aka Emile), and that in one of the book's passages, he alluded to this episode in such a way that he ‘basically confessed to it already’. I haven’t found that part yet, and I remain somewhat sceptical about whether this is truly the case.

8. SECOND INTERMEZZO: VOLTAIRE THE AVID HATE-READER

V on Julie, or the New Heloise: „silly, middle-class, dirty-minded and boring“

V on Profession of Faith of a Savoyard Vicar: „I read his On Education. These are reasonings of a stupid nurse in four volumes, of which forty pages directed against Christianity. They are among the most daring that have ever been written, [but] by virtue of inconsistency worthy of this head without a brain and this Diogenes* with no heart, he uttered as much abuse against the philosophers, as against Jesus Christ.“ (letter to Damilaville, 1762)

*calling JJ ‘Diogenes’ was definitely a trend in the 1700s, and what seems like V’s go-to insult for him. Calling him a ‘lackey of Diogenes’ does potentially get a bit kink-shame-y though...

9. A MOUNTAIN AND AN AVALENCHE

The last post featured an earthquake in Portugal, now get ready for a distinctly Swiss natural disaster!

To be perfectly fair to Voltaire, although he was certainly not a person who was above spreading gossip, he did have a good reason to publish what he knew about Rousseau and let all hell break loose, since...

in Rousseau’s Letters Written from the Mountain published in 1763, JJ had exposed Voltaire as the author of the infamous Sermon of the Fifty, an anti-christian work that had the potential to get its author into serious trouble. Voltaire could not and would not let this slide – especially when he had the perfect weapon on his hands. Payback time!

Voltaire therefore went on to publish a short anonymous pamphlet titled Sentiments des Citoyens (aka How Citizens Feel – since JJ proudly called himself ‘citizen of Geneva’ in his works and he championed sentiments over reason – see, it’s all very clever!) in which he exposed details from Rousseau’s personal life. This of course included the most shocking, most hypocritical, and most memorable detail of all: Rousseau, Mr. Family First, Mr. Let’s-raise-precious-children-in-a-way-that-won’t-corrupt-their-natural-godness had dumped all of his offspring into a Parisian orphanage! Not so virtuous now, is it?

Interestingly, Rousseau never put two and two together and realised Voltaire was the real author of the fateful pamphlet. It would be interesting to see how he would react had he known.

That said, much like d’Alembert’s article on Geneva a couple of years earlier, the Sentiments des Citoyens led JJ to pick up a pen once again to do what he did best: to defend the poorest and most oppressed souls against the cruel and unjust world. Which usually just happened to be himself.

And thus, as Roger Pearson, an author of one of Voltaire's many biographies concludes:

“we have Voltaire to thank for (…) being the catalyst of Rousseau’s Confessions” which he calls “one of the world’s great autobiographies”

(no, not like that @chaotic-history. Though now I cannot unsee it every time I read the quote)

->

Tune in next time for the (mis)adventure in Britain which will feature:

another philosopher - David Hume - dragged into the mess

a fake letter from Frederick the Great (that was actually penned by the most messy gossip of a person in the 18th century)

a genuinely funny statue story with an appearance from d'Alembert

[celestialhole]

Simon Riley x GN!reader headcanons

Warnings: Contains NSFW content below the cut, read at your own risk! Sorta proofread, random as fuck but here's your din din. Thinking about Simon Riley who uses his kids as weights for him to lift while working out. Just for fun. He likes hearing his kids laugh and giggle. Simon Riley who gets hella annoyed when your family/extended family buys so much crap for the kids. "The bloody hell they need this for? Don't we already have the damn pool outside!?" Simon looked down at the huge box in their living room, it was a goddamn bouncy house for the little ones. "I dunno Si. We can put it in the frontyar-" "WE ALREADY HAVE THE BALL PIT OUTSIDE!"

Never really celebrated his birthday before meeting you. You started giving him presents, taking him out, and taking him back to hotels (or your home) to ride him til' dawn. Now that you have little ones you all plan a small birthday party for him since he's old and grumpy. You give him one of his favorite desserts, have all the kids pile on him, and show him some love it resulted in him counting to 5 before chasing them all down while you record all of it.

Will fantasize about what life could've been like if his family were still here with him, what it could've been like if they had lived long enough to meet you. He's sure his Mother and Nephew would've loved you, and his brother would tease him n' say something like, "Now you know how it feels, it ain't as bad as you thought huh?" He wished to God he'd get to experience that in another lifetime. In my world, he doesn't celebrate Christmas and we know damn well why. If he's been with you for a long time he'll find a way to make something for you to make it special or he'll buy you something you mentioned wanting a few weeks or months back. But don't expect him to place a big ass tree in his apartment. If you manage to convince him to buy a tree he'll buy it and maybe a few ornaments he likes but the rest you're buying. Riley totally tore that bitch up and trust me, he tried to stop her but it was too early in the morning for that and he didn't want the tree anyways so he just sighs, puts some tea on the kettle grabs his reading glasses and his favorite book, and just relaxes on the couch as his military dog is tearing up your 350$ Christmas tree. "Jesus fucking Christ what happened in here!?" You stumbled over an ornament as you walked into the living room. Simon was chilling peacefully on the couch as Riley held a broken branch in her mouth and they both looked as if there wasn't a shit tone of ornaments and small pieces of the tree everywhere. It looked like a cluster fuck in your living room. "Tree became a chew toy," Simon mumbled. "I can see that.. And you didn't stop her?!" You narrowed your eyes at him. "Tried to, then it fell and I gave up," Simon took a sip of his tea and turned a page of the book he was reading. "Oh for fucks sake Simon.." You rubbed your eyes and leaned against the wall. He glanced up at you from the couch with an amused smile and looked back down at his book. "...This is what happens when we don't listen to Simon says-" "I'm kicking you and Riley out." You cut him off.

I see this man with an uncut shave because he's too lazy for that shit, however, if he notices he has a whole ass fucking jungle down there he'll trim it and then leave it alone for another 5 months. A solid 7 inches when soft and hard. Girth? Lots of it. Saggy balls. The type of man who doesn't notice when you get something done (hair, nails, etc). When you ask him if he notices anything different he'll immediately look at your ass to see if those squats did you any good. Speaking of your ass he loves your ass. Flat or thick he's smacking it when he casually walks past you. If you're plus-sized or just thicc it's even better. Don't ever bend over with this man in your perimeter. And it's even worse when you're in front of him and walking up the stairs cause he's staring hard at it. When you bend over he's smacking it, groping it, caressing it, and if he's really bold he's sneaking a quick hump against it. It's all shits and giggles till he's in that position. And you never hold back either. Now he doesn't trust walking up the stairs in front of you because you won't stop poking his ass and he hates it he loves you anyways. Call him daddy and he's not gonna speak or look at you for the rest of the day. You've made him spiritually nauseous good job. HE'S A BODY MAN BUT IN MY WORLD HE'S A THIGH AND TUMMY MAN! Also, I can see him being obsessed with ya nipple piercings if you ever got them. But nipple piercings are one thing, a genital piercing IS ANOTHER THING. Mutual masturbation is a must on the weekend mornings. He'll wake you up with pepper kisses to your neck while his hand is rubbing your tummy, when you wake up he'll gradually run his hands over your chest and pinch your nipple before moving his hand down to caress your arousal. He sucks the skin on your shoulder and neck to pleasure you and when you turn over to stroke his already hardened cock, he groans and moves his hips to slowly thrust his cock along your hand while his fingers slowly speed up. Now imagine his groans + his morning voice. This man loves you with every fiber of his being and tries his very best to make sure you know he loves you no matter what, so don't even think about asking him if he'll still love you as a worm. He'll keep you safely tucked in the pocket of his shirt and feed you noodles. He doesn't give two shits if you're hairy, plus-sized, or "unattractive". He'll cross the Amazon or even Antarctica to eat your ass I'm just saying. Don't protest or even speak, just bend over and let him have fun with his beautiful partner.

[tubborucho]

Tommy and Tubbo – Pages: How to melt your essence with someone’s soul

taglist: @pastelvangelion @smallz-o @salineroses @dynamicworms @cindersnows @deadfishisyeq @snyland @missstrawberry @frubbotoxicyuri @haloberry @thecardboardbutterfly @avianchorus @qtubbo @an-egghead @codaattheend @mikaikaika

dm me if you want in or out of taglist

credits:

Prologue

1. “time collapses. love takes your hand and leads you from the world” layla starr

Page 1

2. “Imitations of Drowning” Anne Sexton

3. @.insomniac-arrest

4. https://twitter.com/sainticide/status/1476212797369319424?s=21&t=iGrZnWG5aLGizZ_iGCZR4A

5. “Twenty-One Ways of Leaving” Koleka Putuma

6. https://pin.it/4Iy5VQI

7. @.dvoyd

8. http://hollowworld.co.uk/threads/halvar-vignette-s.55468/post-829118

9. “If There’s A Way Out I’ll Take It” Lora Mathis

10. “Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn; in a letter to Hortense Flexner and Wyncie King” Martha Gellhorn

Page 2

11. https://pin.it/1QpJ0iz

12. https://pin.it/6WwyKF6

13. “Wayward son” Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch

14. https://pin.it/5Mgyjhs

15. @.galactic-mystics-writes

16. @.dazzlingtiredeyes

17. “The Next Time We Talk on Facebook” Clementine von Radics

18. N/A

19. Fall Out Boys – Young Volcanoes

Page 3

20. https://pin.it/3Nxa6eV

21. “Jesus Texts” Pádraig Ó Tuama

22. @.codaattheend

23. https://pin.it/3YFQf7P

24. by Edward Lee

25. “The Five Stages of Grief” Linda Pastan

26. “A song for a lover of a long time ago” Bon Iver

27. “Icarus || Percy Jackson” SarcasticSunshine

28. https://pin.it/59O2ivf

Page 4

29. “Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn” Martha Gellhorn

30. @.aretherestarsinhell

31. “One Last Poem for Richard“ Sandra Cisneros

32. “Poem of the End” Marina Tsvetaeva

33. https://pin.it/7mGA0UT

34. https://pin.it/1TKqm7d

35. “Norwegian Woods” Haruki Murakami

36. by Friedrich Nietzsche

37. “For Your Own Good” Leah Horlick

Page 5

38. “When Rome Falls” Yves Olade

39. https://pin.it/5CnTcJ9

40. “Whatever You Need” Marley C.

41. @.eridan-ampora

42. “Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell” Cierra

43. https://pin.it/e9k4bKp

44. “Sunstone” Octavio Paz tr. by Elliot Weinberger

45. by Kiersten White

46. https://pin.it/1i7tkZg

47. https://pin.it/4S39jLe

Epilogue

48. @.jovialtorchlight

All the other little pictures are free stickers from PicsArt

[stargazedwinchester]

Protect | Sam

A small one to get me back into writing, will be doing one for Dean also! <3

Summary: You attempt to comfort Sam from his most recent break up.

Prompt: "If she threatens you in any way you tell me, okay?" @promptsbytaurie

If anyone is interested, I have a taglist here! So if you want to be notified any time I post, pls send in a form so I can update it! Been away for a little bit so I’m gonna update it soon if anyone else has applied their interest :)

(Guys pls let me do a part 2 to this pls pls I beg)

Taglist: @girlsforpjm @rowenalovee @amythedoctor

Word count: 1,069

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

The ambience in the bunker is quieter than usual. Usually there’s some weird genre of music playing loud enough so you can hear from 4 rooms away or someone furiously tapping away on a keyboard.

Walking down toward the lobby, it’s dead quiet. Assuming no one’s home, you take a gander at the books on the bookshelves, multiple books about monster lore and latin history, demonic possession and even some without a name. They’re worn down from the use they got from when the Men of Letters were around. Without letting either of the Winchesters know about it, you managed to sneak your own normal book collection in there. What they don’t know can’t hurt them, right? Sam especially would go nuts.

Picking out a light blue book with an intricate flower design running around it, the bolder, darker letters stand out in contrast. You scan the pages before taking a seat in the armchair in the corner of the library. The floor lamp next to you is dim, setting the mood perfectly for a quick comforting read.

A cough breaks you out of your gaze, unknowing that anyone was even inside. You peer round the corner and notice a huge man with long, unruly hair. His head sits in the palm of his hand, his long legs spread out underneath the table.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper to yourself and make yourself known. “Sam?”

He grumbles, barely turning his body around to acknowledge you. “Yeah?” He clears his throat, his voice croaky and weak. You pad your way over to him and stand above him, examining the empty whiskey bottle and a glass that has remnants. His personal phone is left unlocked, a few texts sent to someone but haven’t gone through. You skim read.

7:04AM

Can we please talk?

8:15AM

Please message me, IDK what I did wrong

17:16PM

Sam, leave me alone. I’m done talking with

you. I will block your number

18:08PM

Sorry

MSG NOT SENT. TRY AGAIN

“How are you feeling?” You question, speaking carefully as he has obviously had a few drinks. You pull out a chair and sit beside him, his head remaining in his hands. You stare at him intently, hoping for a good answer. He takes a deep breath and sighs shakily. He rubs his face and he glances at you quickly. His eyes dark, and the tip of his nose crimson. He wipes his nose and takes another swig, too quick for you to even stop him. “What do you think?” He huffs, trying to show a smile but failing. You look down at the floor, unsure of what to say. He reaches over and locks his phone, then rubs his eyes with his fingers. “I don’t know what to do,” He starts, his voice wobbling. You reach for the nape of his neck and gently caress his hair, “What did I do wrong?” He starts, tears forming in his eyes as he looks at you once more, then breaking contact. “It’s okay, Sammy. Let it out.” You say, stroking his hair as he sits back, looking up at the ceiling.

“I look so weak,” He laughs, trying to collect himself. You sigh quietly. “You’re not. If it hurts you, it hurts you. It’s normal to be sad.” You say, trying to make him feel at least a little bit better. He reaches for his glass again and you place your palm over the top of it. “I think you’ve had enough of this as well,” You slide the glass across the table away from Sam. “Listen. Things like this come and go, you’re more than capable to find someone way better than her. I understand it hurts right now but in a couple of weeks time you’ll feel so much better for relying on yourself and the people that love you than the people that don’t. You’re going to be fine, Sam. Trust me.” You give the speech like your life depends on it, but seeing your close friend so heartbroken made you feel like it’s your duty to ensure he hears exactly what he needs to hear. He looks at you with shining eyes, the red in them makes the hazel pop more than usual. His nose still red and cheeks flushed, his usually neat hair is tussled. “I just loved her so much,” He sighs, straightening himself out. “But she wasn’t for me. We were so different.” He explains, his eyes scanning your face. “How so?” You ask, trying not to intrude.

“Well, I’d want to go places with her to eat, drink, whatever and she’d hate it. She’d never want to spend time with me or show me off. I guess she just wanted to use me, I think that’s the thing that hurts the most,” He admits, shedding new light on his now past relationship with this woman… something that felt like rage and sadness for him built up inside of your chest, and he carries on. “When things wouldn’t go her way, she’d get angry with me. So angry,” He pauses, “She’d threaten things but never actually go through with it, thankfully. I could never say anything because I was scared of her reaction or if she’d leave me for standing up for myself.” He finishes, a tear falling down his cheek and nothing stops you from wiping it away. Keeping your hand gently on his face, you stare into his eyes as he does yours.

“If she threatens you in any way you tell me, okay?” You say, keeping your tone calm and collected, but Sam smirks at the fire that glows within yourself, a passion for protecting the ones you love, or maybe it’s more than that.

“Okay. I will.” He smiles for the first time since this whole interaction started. You slowly start to stand up, shuffling yourself out of the chair. You remove your hand from Sams’ face, but then he unexpectedly takes your hand as you try to turn away, pulling you back. You look at him with concern, and his helpless gaze stares up at you. “Thank you, Y/N.” He says, pursing his lips. “Honestly, it’s what I needed. So, thank you.”

“I’d do anything for you, Winchester.” You say, quickly grooming his hair so its somewhat neater. Glancing into his eyes one last time, he shows you a fragile smile.

A delicate smile is still a smile.

[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 7: First Double Date

You and Joel go out with Tommy and Maria. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-6 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 5.5k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I swear to God Joel, if you make fun of me…” 

“I’m not gonna make fun of you, Beautiful.” 

“Oh you say that now.” 

“I’m really not,” he laughed a little.  

“I did like… research and shit,” you said from the other side of your bathroom door. “I Googled, OK?” 

“I’m sure you look incredible,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Just come out here.” 

You sighed.

“Fine.” 

You knew you shouldn’t be nervous with Joel and, usually, you weren’t. But this felt a little different. You opened the bathroom door and came into your bedroom, doing a little spin as you did to show him both sides of the outfit. His face shifted from a smile to something almost hungry as he looked you up and down from his spot on the edge of your bed. He checked his watch. 

“What?” You frowned. 

“Just seein’ how much time we have until Tommy and Maria get here,” he said, looking back at you. “Think if we’re quick and leave that little skirt on…” 

You laughed and all but jumped on his lap, kissing him. 

You were going on your first double date with Joel, with his brother and sister-in-law of all people. You’d met Tommy and Maria at Sarah’s cookout a few weeks earlier but hadn’t seen them since. You had, however, heard plenty about them since then. Especially after Joel told you that his brother knew about the two of you. 

Your eyes had gone wide when he’d told you that. 

“Are you sure it was a good idea to tell him quite yet?” You asked. “We haven’t told Sarah and they’re pretty close…” 

“Yeah, I didn’t… uh…” Joel awkwardly cupped the back of his neck. “Didn’t exactly… tell him.” 

You frowned. 

“What do you…” 

“Maria… might have heard us in the bathroom at the cookout.” 

“What!” You yelped, eyes wide. “Oh my GOD, Joel!” 

“It’s fine…” 

You groaned and collapsed all the way down onto his couch, burying your face in the arm of it. 

“They must think I’m some kind of ridiculous slut!” Your voice was muffled by the cushion. “This is mortifying…” 

“It’s really not that bad,” he rubbed your thigh soothingly. “Really. They like you! A lot! And they kept sayin’ they’d never seen me this happy. Honestly, Tommy was just happy to see me with someone I wanted to fuck in a bathroom.”

“Jesus Christ,” you groaned. “Well, it’s been great, Joel, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to change my name and move to Antarctica…” 

He laughed and tugged you over until your head was on his shoulder instead of the couch. 

“Sounds cold,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll have to find a coat.” 

If you’d been falling for Joel before, you’d fully fallen for him over the past two weeks, ever since he’d found out everything about your childhood and your dad. 

You’d almost expected him to look for an out once it all settled in. That, when all the baggage had been sitting there for long enough for him to take inventory of it all, he’d run. 

But he hadn’t. He’d done the opposite. He spent that weekend holed up with you. Making you dinner, holding you close while watching Sharknado, changing the locks on your front door and installing a doorbell camera so you could see if he stopped by. He dropped you off at work Monday morning and picked you up that afternoon, heading straight to a car dealership after handing you a small pile of print outs. You frowned, looking at them. 

“What…” 

“So I took what I was asking you about cars over the weekend and found some good options for you,” he said. “Four of ‘em are at one dealership so I figured we could start there unless these are really not what you’re lookin’ for…” 

You flipped through the pages, all cars that were makes and models you were already thinking about wanting to look at, just tracked down at places around you instead of an abstract thought in your head. 

You teared up, a hand covering your mouth. 

Joel frowned. 

“We don’t have to do this today,” he said. “I don’t mind drivin’ you for a bit, happy to do it if you need a little more time or just aren’t up for it or…” 

“No one’s ever done something like this for me,” you dabbed at the corners of your eyes, trying to keep the tears from actually falling and ruining your mascara. 

“Told you I’ve got you, Beautiful,” Joel said. “Meant it.” 

You ended up buying a car Tuesday, Joel not a fan of how the salesman you talked to at the first dealership seemed incapable of talking directly to you and instead looked at Joel when answering all your questions. 

“That’s just how it is,” you shrugged as you headed back to his truck. 

“Don’t matter,” Joel said, opening your door for you. “It’s bullshit. We can always come back if we come up empty but you shouldn’t give your money to that jackass.” 

The second dealership had a saleswoman who would actually talk to you and not your boyfriend - boyfriend? - and ended up getting you a car with even nicer features than the one your dad had totaled for about the same price. You dropped Joel’s truck at your place and you drove the two of you to a restaurant you’d found on a local food blog, running your hand over the dashboard when at red lights. 

“Happy with the car?” Joel asked, smiling almost proudly. It was one of the cars he’d found and printed the information on. 

“It’s perfect,” you beamed at him. “Thank you so much for just… everything the past few days. This is the best I’ve ever felt after a visit from my dad.” 

You were feeling pretty good on Wednesday when you got a Nest alert on your phone. Your dad was standing at your front door, trying the key he still had. You took a screenshot and texted Joel. 

“Guess who,” you wrote. “Glad you changed the locks.” 

He replied almost immediately. 

“I’m staying over,” he said. “Got his parole officer’s number?” 

When your dad came by that night and actually rang the bell, you stayed just out of sight, watching the reflection of what happened in a mirror on your entry way wall as Joel answered the door. 

“Oh,” he said when he saw Joel. “I’m sorry, I must have misremembered the apartment…” 

“You didn’t,” Joel said, his voice cold. “Know exactly who you are. You’re not welcome here. Come by again and I’m calling the cops and you’d better hope they get their hands on you before I do. She’s blocked your number.” He handed your dad a business card. “If it’s an emergency, you can call me but you’re stayin’ the fuck away from her. You had your chance, you blew it. Now go, before I make you go.” 

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are or what my daughter’s told you…” 

“I’m her boyfriend,” he snapped. “And she’s told me plenty. Was probably nicer than you deserved about it, too, knowing her. Last chance to leave on your own.” 

Your dad was silent for a moment. 

“Take care of her?” He said quietly. 

“I will,” Joel said, tone softer. “Do a better job of it than you did.” 

“Good,” he said. “Tell her bye for me.” 

Joel closed the door and the second you could reach him you threw your arms around his neck, pressing your whole body against him. You kissed him, hard and frantic, tugging him back toward your bedroom as you did. You all but ripped his clothes off of him as you stripped down yourself, racing to get him inside you, not really able to calm down until he was. 

“Fuck, Beautiful,” he groaned, his hands on your thighs as you straddled his hips, his cock deep inside. “What’s this for?” 

“Needed you,” you said, dropping your forehead to his as you panted for breath. 

You were sure you loved him then. You weren’t sure how to say it yet but you were sure you felt it. 

Which is part of why you were really trying for this double date. You were in love with Joel, you wanted to impress his brother and sister-in-law. The two of you hadn’t really talked about it but, ever since he called himself your boyfriend to your father, that’s what he was. And you liked it that way. You wanted him to want to bring you places. 

Including University of Texas football games. 

Even though you knew fuck all about college football. You’d basically spent your entire college career studying or working, going to sporting events hadn’t been too high on your to do list. 

So you’d done some research, looked up what people wore to things like college football games. You decided to go all out and settled on a denim mini-skirt, a v-neck University of Texas shirt, cowboy boots and little orange longhorn temporary tattoos on your cheeks. 

“Wonderin’ if we should just cancel on them,” Joel kissed down your neck to your cleavage. “Look too good, don’t want to share you.” 

“Yeah, we’re not canceling on your brother so you can get me naked,” you laughed a little. “But you can get me naked later.” 

“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he nipped at your chin. 

Your doorbell rang and Joel groaned, dropping his head to your chest.

“Tommy has always had terrible timing,” he sighed. 

You laughed and got off his lap. 

“C’mon you horn dog,” you teased. “Let’s go watch the sportsball.” 

“One thing first,” he reached under your bed and pulled out a straw cowboy hat. “Thought you might need one of these to complete the look.” 

You squealed and grabbed the hat, popping it on your head. 

“How long has this been under my bed?” You gaped at him. 

He smiled a little. 

“Snuck it in the other day,” he said. “You’re a Texan now so you gotta have at least one.” 

“I love it!” You looked in the mirror and adjusted it a little. “Thank you!” 

You tipped it at him.  

“How’s it look?” 

He smiled. 

“Beautiful. Just… Beautiful.” 

Tommy’s truck was loaded down with coolers and a grill, your eyes going a little wide at it all. 

“How many people are going to be there?” You asked Joel as you got in the back seat of the truck. 

“It’s a tailgate,” he shrugged. “Can never tell.” 

“Give Tommy an excuse to drink while grilling for a crowd and he’ll take it,” Maria smiled, twisting around in the front seat to actually face you. “Good to see you again!” 

“You too!” You smiled, trying to resist the urge to jump out of the car when you thought about the fact that she heard you going down on Joel. 

“I’m excited to have another woman around for this whole thing,” she smiled as Tommy started the truck. “They do this once a year and I swear it’s like they pack a whole season’s worth of football stuff into one day.” 

“I keep tellin’ ya, get me season tickets and we’ll spread it out,” Tommy teased. 

“You think I want to do this every weekend?” Maria asked, incredulous. 

Tommy scoffed. 

“Who wouldn’t?” 

Maria gave you a look as if to say “See what I deal with?” And you smiled as Joel took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 

You helped get the tailgate set up before settling into a folding camp chair with a beer next to Maria, the two of you watching as Joel and Tommy put meat on the grill, serious looks on their faces as they worked. 

“So,” Maria smiled, taking a sip of beer. “You and Joel, huh?” 

“Me and Joel,” you nodded, smiling a little back. “Not too insane, is it?” 

“I mean, the circumstances might be a little odd but otherwise,” she shrugged. “He likes you.” 

“I sure hope so,” you laughed, taking a drink of beer yourself and looking out at the crowd that was gathering to tailgate. The truck across from you was setting up a game of cornhole. Someone a few trucks down had started playing country music at top volume. “I’m a little fucked if he doesn’t at this point.” 

She laughed, too. 

“Look, I’ll be honest,” she said. “I know Joel better than most sisters-in-law probably care to know their brother-in-law. Him and Tommy… You marry one and you get the other, too. Package deal and all that.” 

You nodded slowly, watching the two of them work while talking conspiratorially themselves. 

“I’ve never, not once, seen him show this kind of interest in anyone,” she continued. “Honestly, Tommy and I figured he’d be single forever. Maybe a date here and there but… It never really seemed like a priority for him. He’s never even mentioned a woman before let alone brought her around.

“You seem to make him happy. Really happy. And I want to support him. But… I need to know that you’re in this for the long haul. That man doesn’t get attached lightly but he’s attached to you. Hell, he had me trying to interpret your texts a few weeks back, trying to make sure he didn’t fuck up…” 

You winced. 

“I was dealing with some family stuff,” you said. “I should have just talked to him about it from the get go and…” 

“Hey, I get it,” she cut you off. “Not like you’d been seeing each other long, I wouldn’t have told some guy I’d just met anything all that personal, either. I just want to make sure you care, that you know he’s not just screwing around with you. Not that he’s said that but I know the guy. Tommy knows the guy. This is a first and I’d rather not watch his heart get stomped on.” 

You looked at Joel. He was laughing at something Tommy said, his smile wide and beautiful. You couldn’t help but smile, too. Just looking at the guy made you happy. 

“I’m in it,” you said, still watching him. “Trust me, I’m very in it.” 

“Good,” Maria said. You thought you could hear the smile on her voice. “Because I really do need another girl around these two, they’re insufferable.” 

Once the grill was going, Joel put his arms around your shoulders and led you around the tailgate. Tommy’s set up, you soon realized, was relatively modest. A few people had come with campers and had big TVs set up outside, chairs on rugs out front watching other games from around the country. The two of you stopped and played ladder ball with someone who worked with Joel, him smiling proudly as he introduced you as “his girlfriend,” making your heart soar. You even ran into one of your copywriters as he chugged a beer shirtless with an orange X painted on his chest. 

“Oh shit, hey Boss!” He laughed. “Good to see you! Who’s your friend?” 

“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you smiled. It was the first time you’d gotten to say that. Joel beamed and the two shook hands. “Joel, this is Steve, one of the copywriters at work.” 

“Want a beer?” Steve asked. “I’ll give you two if you promise to forget you saw me like this.” 

You laughed back. 

“Don’t worry, Steve,” you said. “I’ll be doing my best to forget that, anyway.” 

“So not all these people are going to the game?” You asked as you walked slowly back toward Tommy’s truck. Joel’s arm was draped over your shoulders again. 

“Nope,” Joel said. “People just come out to party. There’ll be a lot of people around the TVs later.” 

“Football is weird,” you scrunched your nose and Joel laughed. “But I’ll still watch it with you.”

“Oh really?” He teased. 

“Yup,” you smiled up at him. “But only because you’re hot.” 

He laughed. 

“Better get in the game time while I can, then.” 

When you made it back to the truck, food was ready (“Still got a lot to learn about grilling a great burger, Tommy,” Joel teased his brother, who just rolled his eyes) and you and Joel lost at cornhole to Tommy and Maria. 

“Do people really play stuff like that all the time?” You gaped at Tommy after he sent another bag directly into the hole on the opposite board. Yours were scattered on the ground around it. 

“We’ve got a set in our backyard,” Tommy said after he punched the air in victory. “You and Joel will just have to practice, don’t know if he can handle me kicking his ass.” 

By the time the game started, you’d almost forgotten that you’d come there to watch a football game, having so much fun in the parking lot outside that it seemed like the main attraction. 

You tried to mimic how other people reacted to the events on the field, not really understanding any of it but having fun watching Joel have fun. It was about half way through the first quarter when Joel leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You don’t understand any of this, do you?” He asked. 

You winced. You’d tried to watch some informational videos on YouTube and read some basic explainers of the game over the past week but it was like it was in a different language, you hadn’t been able to absorb any of it. 

“Never had anyone to explain it to me as a kid and never hung out with anyone who was into it as an adult,” you replied. “So no, not a damn thing. But it’s still fun!” 

“Here,” he put his hand on your waist and pointed toward the lineup of men on the field. “We’re on offense right now, that means we’re trying to score and we’ve got the ball. It’s second and eight…” 

Joel kindly, patiently, walked you through the basics, going back over things when he could tell you were confused or had forgotten something when it happened on the field. 

“It’s really OK,” you said after a few minutes. “I don’t want you to spend all the time you’re supposed to be having fun talking to me…” 

“Talking to you is fun,” he replied. “I’d rather talk to you all the time than watch any game. And I want you to have fun, too. Which I know you won’t if you don’t understand what’s going on because you feel better when you know things.” 

You looked up at him, at his warm smile and soft eyes and the one curl that had broken away from the rest to start curving over his forehead, and you couldn’t help it. For a moment, the feeling overwhelmed you and it just spilled out of you before you could stop it. 

“I love you,” you said before you realized you said it. 

Then your eyes went wide and your face fell and you scrambled to take it back. It was too soon to be saying this to him, you’d only known the man a few weeks and things were still insanely complicated, you’d barely figured out that you were in a full blown relationship let alone ready to bring something like love into the mix. It didn’t matter that you felt it and that you wanted to say it, it wasn’t the right time yet.

“Shit. Ignore that, please ignore that, pretend I didn’t say anything, I don’t want…” 

“I love you, too,” he cut you off, smiling so big his whole face lit up with it. 

You just blinked at him for a moment. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Yeah, I do. I really, really do.” 

He tipped your hat up and kissed you, his arm sliding around you to pull you flush against his front. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding tight to him, never wanting to stop feeling just like this. 

“Look!” Maria patted your shoulder urgently. “You’re on the kiss cam!” 

You pulled away from Joel just in time to see yourselves on the giant screen and you laughed, going back to kiss him again. 

***

“I’m glad you two seem to have figured your shit out,” Tommy had told him while they set up the grill. “She really does seem great.” 

“She is,” Joel said, watching you talk with Maria, looking so damn pretty in your little skirt and boots. “Fuck, she’s incredible.” 

“Anyone who can actually get you to feel something is a winner in my book,” Tommy replied, hooking up the propane tank. “Not sure what’s thicker, your skull or the space around your heart.” 

Joel laughed but he knew his brother had a point. He hadn’t been in a relationship - a real one - in a very long time. It had been even longer since he’d felt anything close to this for anyone. He’d gone from falling in love with you to just being in love with you and it had happened so quickly it was hard for him to even see it at first. 

He’d just known it when your father had shown up at your door that day. Joel knew what he was after - some other way to manipulate you, he was sure - and it made his blood boil. He had to consciously stop himself from hitting the man. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew it would hurt you if he did. But he knew he had to protect you, had to be the one standing in between you and the man who’d done nothing but neglect and harm you your entire life. 

His whole body burned with it. He wished he could have gone back in time somehow and protected you then, too. Made it so you didn’t have to go through any of it and stand between you and anyone who had ever so much as looked at you wrong. None of them deserved you. Neither did he, for that matter, but he could at least protect you from the worst of them. 

He knew he loved you then. He couldn’t conceive of how anyone could look at you and do anything that would willfully hurt you, how anyone could look at you and see anything but one of the greatest things the world had ever let happen. 

But he didn’t want to scare you off, so he kept it to himself, instead just doing everything he could to take care of you, get you to spend some time with him. 

It turned out, he didn’t need to try that hard. It seemed like you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you. 

You texted him over lunch on a day you were working from home, a picture of all the makings for mac and cheese and a BluRay of Jupiter Ascending, a movie Joel had heard was laughably bad and he’d been meaning to watch at some point. 

“Your place or mine?” You asked. 

Joel smiled. 

“Wherever you are, Beautiful, I’ll be there.”

You asked to come to his place so you could actually get out of your house for a bit and you showed up not long after Joel had gotten out of the shower, a pan of macaroni and cheese ready to go in the oven and a grocery bag over your arm with all the fixings for Bloody Marys. 

“I. Found. Bacon. Vodka,” your eyes were wide and excited. “It’s going to be amazing!” 

You were right, it was amazing. Everything with you was amazing. 

Because he loved you. 

“You told her yet?” Tommy asked as they say next to each other on the gate of his truck during lunch. 

“Told who what?” Joel asked, looking down at his phone for the umpteenth time since his lunch break started. You’d texted him a picture of a rather pathetic looking sandwich. 

“This food truck’s a bust,” you said. “Feeling very let down. I require real food. Dinner?” 

Joel was about to type out a response when you sent a selfie from what had to be a bathroom stall at your office, your shirt unbuttoned an extra button from what it had been when you’d gone your separate ways that morning. 

“In case you needed motivation,” you wrote. 

“Tell your girlfriend that you’re in love with her,” Tommy said. 

Joel frowned and actually looked up from his phone. 

“I didn’t…” 

“Don’t need to say it,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not blind and I might not be a genius but I ain’t that dumb. You’ve got it bad.”

Joel glared at him for a second. 

“S’too early,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna scare her off.” 

“You’re practically living with this woman,” he said. “She brought steak to your house the other night. Besides the blip, what’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing her since you started dating?” 

Joel was happy that, after the mall incident, Tommy was understanding without Joel needing to be too specific about what happened with your father. He’d just told Tommy “It was a tough family thing, makes our shit look like child’s play.” Tommy just said “Damn, poor girl, shit’s rough” and had only ever called it “the blip” from then on. 

“Just a work day, really,” Joel said. 

“Don’t think it’s too early for shit, man,” Tommy said. “Just don’t fuck it up. And figure out how to tell your kid because I’m shit at keeping secrets.”

Joel sighed and nodded to his brother before texting you back. 

“Never need much motivation with you,” he said. “Can’t let you starve on me. Come over, I’ll grill you a burger.”

When you fell asleep naked in his bed that night, he just watched you breathe, wondering how to tell you how he felt and how to tell his daughter that he was head over heels for her best friend. 

So when you’d all but blurted it out at him at the game, it was a relief. He’d been terrified it would slip out of him for almost two weeks now. That he’d hand you something, you’d say “thank you” and, instead of “you’re welcome” he’d say “I love you.” That he’d kiss you on the way out the door in the morning and instead of “goodbye” it would be “I love you.” That he’d be looking at your perfect face as you rode him and he’d gasp “I love you” as he came deep inside. 

It was a relief to know you felt it, too. It was a relief to say it out loud. It was a relief to feel the sense of security that settled into him at those words, the sense that this wasn’t something that would be easily undone. That this was something he could be safe in feeling, that he could rely on the connection he had with you that had gone from tenuous to vital so fast it made his head spin. 

The rest of the game, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You were either perched on his leg or standing right in front of him for the rest of the game, his hands on your waist, pressing his lips into your neck and cheek, each kiss just another “I love you” in his mind. He couldn’t even tell you the score by the end of the game, only knowing that UT won because everyone else around them seemed almost as happy as he was. 

Joel was eager to say his goodbyes to Tommy and Maria when they dropped the two of you off at your apartment. It’s not like he didn’t always want you - he always wanted you - but it was urgent now, a driving need more than a want. 

You, it seemed, were on the same wavelength. The front door was barely closed when you took fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him against you, kissing him deeply as you walked backwards deeper into your home. 

He pulled your hat off first, tossing it on your loveseat on the way back to your bedroom. You went from using his shirt to hold him close to tugging it up and over his head as he did the same with yours. 

In the bedroom, you turned so he was against the bed as you deftly opened his pants and pushed them and his boxer briefs down and off. You nudged him down onto the bed and looked him in the eyes as you slipped your panties down your legs, leaving on the little miniskirt that Joel had so wanted to fuck you in before the game. 

You straddled him, your arms resting on his shoulders, his hands on your back, fingers spread wide to touch as much of you as he could. He slowly, almost reverently, removed your bra, cupping your breasts for a moment before holding onto you again. You aligned your entrance with his cock, the head of him just inside of you. 

He held your gaze, his nose brushing yours, breathing the same air you were. He looked deep in your eyes as you started sinking onto him, your breath hitching as you did. 

“I love you,” he breathed, mouth so close to yours his lips brushed your own when he spoke. 

“Joel,” you managed, your body soft and warm against him as you took him into yourself. “I love you, I…” 

You gasped as he bottomed out within you and he clutched onto you, needing to be as close to you as he could possibly be. 

The two of you just looked at each other for a moment, your skin on his, his cock buried deep within you. 

He realized then that he’d never been inside someone he was in love with before you. He’d tried with Sarah’s mother but her resentment kept any real affection from becoming too deep. Everything before her has been for fun, he hadn’t been looking for anything permanent. No relationship had lasted long enough to actually fall for anyone since. 

It was an intense thing, knowing you loved him back while being a part of you. You always felt incredible, better than anything or anyone else he’d ever felt, but it was different now and he never wanted to be anywhere but with you. 

You took a deep, shaky breath before rising slowly over him. He could feel every inch of you, the tight grip of every ridge, the wet heat of you holding him perfectly inside. He kissed you as you started to ride him, moaning into your mouth, sinking his fingers into your soft skin. 

Your skirt bunched around your hips and you ground your clit against him and he relished it, loving the feeling of you finding your pleasure with his body. 

He met you stroke for stroke until you came over him with a whimper, kissing him deeper, pussy gushing over his cock. 

Joel moved you below him, settling between your thighs, his body still tight to yours for a moment before he separated from you. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, breasts heaving. He slid a hand up your stomach, drinking you in, eyes lingering on the place disappeared into you, your sex swollen and slick. 

“Want to see you,” he panted, moving his hands to the inside of your knees, slipping them over your thighs until one thumb found your clit and the other slipped around your hip to your lower back, your sexy little skirt pushed up around your waist now. “Want to see you come for me.” 

He started driving into you, pulling back almost reluctantly to thrust back as deep as he could reach, watching it move through your body, the ripple of your skin, the bounce of your breasts, the desperate look on your face as he worked your clit, your channel tightening around him. 

“That’s it,” he panted as you ground your hips back against him when he thrust deep. “Are you close, Beautiful? That perfect little pussy about to come for me?”

You nodded and moaned, one of your hands flying to the bed and tangling in the blanket. 

“Good,” he said, all but breathless. “Need you to come all over me, need to feel you come, need to watch you come. Just let go baby, just come for me.” 

He watched your orgasm take hold half a second before he felt it, your face lost in pleasure, your clit throbbing as he felt you come apart around his cock. 

Joel fought to hold his own orgasm off for at least moment, wanting to enjoy your pleasure for as long as he could. But he didn’t last long, thrusting deep and all but collapsing on top of you as the peak of your climax triggered his own. 

Once he’d come down from his high enough to be able to think, he rolled onto his side and took you with him, still buried deep in you, kissing you gently as he held your face in his hand. 

“I love you, Joel,” you said softly. “I’ve never really said that to anybody but I love you.” 

“I love you,” he said, letting the feeling wash over him as he was so impossibly close to you. “I love you so much.” 

As he fell asleep in your bed with you in his arms, he wasn’t sure he’d ever meant anything more. 

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHH THEY SAID IT!

I just love these two, they're so cute working through their relationship shit. They're getting there, they really are!

Thank you for being here and for following their story. It's been so fun to share with you! Love you!!

[instarsandcrime]

Under the Weather

Oh my God @rosieknows you put me up to a really fun challenge!! Vo/x and A/la/stor are the two characters that are the hardest to write for me. But I really enjoyed this and it took so long because it became. Almost 7 pages???? It's a bit long and wordy but I hope you enjoy it, and that it matched what you wanted as a request!

Song near the end is Lady Luck by Ted Lewis and His Band from the musical "Show of Shows".

Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

---

Alastor would not call himself a reckless man.

He prided himself on his calculations, his patience, and a dash of eloquence for good measure. After all, you can't slice your game without a well-sharpened cleaver.

But if there was one thing The Radio Demon lacked, his one Achilles Heel, was the eye of Lady Luck. Today, for instance. All it took was her flick of the wrist and a winter blizzard had all but ended him. He trudged through the snow, steaming breath hot on his face as it carried on the wind. Without an audience to speak of, and a lack of energy to even hide his misery, he rubbed at a raw nose that wrinkled against the cold.

Sadly, his near-frozen fingers did little to ease what came next.

“Hgg’tshzzzt! Het’tchzzzzt!” He wrenched out, stumbling...somewhere. Strange, he seemed to forget where his path went. His mind began to frost over as a sudden dizziness overtook him from reaching…reaching…where…where was he going again? His snowflake-laden eyelids drooped, swaying on his feet as his impromptu nap was rudely interrupted with a stinging itch that didn’t seem to quit. He wrapped his arms around himself. Image be damned, there was no one around and he was determined to keep his warmth. He was absolutely not going to...t-to...!

“Het’TSSZZZEW! Oh, fuhh..for God's sa-sakeET’SHHHZ̴̠͕͝Z̵̢̛͓̅͛Z̷͈̈́̄̕T̶̢̛̲͇̫͊͛͐̈́!̸̱̟̰̝̗̃” He gasped for air, barely catching himself on his cane. Of course there was nothing more he could do, could he? He was all but reduced to a walking shell. There was no path. There was no opportunity. There was no plan.

“Well, well, well! If it isn't Hell's most ancient artifact!” The ghost of a memory lit through the fog that was just about to swallow him whole. He would be more grateful, if said ghost wasn’t the most annoying burr that dared to attach itself to him every chance it got.

So in the face of his prey he did what he did best: straighten his spine, tug on his lapels, and flash Vox a smile. Despite the fact that its edges were already wearing at the seams. Despite the fact that he felt his face tingle with a rising heat. Despite the fact that, no matter how hard he tried, his nose just wouldn't. Stop. Streaming.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t take a little water? Is the ol’ machinery finally rusting over?”

“I'm ahh-- afraid I don't know what...what you mean.” Alastor cleared his throat to stifle a cough, uncomfortably aware that it did little to hide the rasp in his voice. He quickly pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket to stall the mess, cringing as its soaked fabric bit the tip, flickering tickle building to a dizzying roar.

“Oh come on! Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look even older than you usually...do...” Vox’s sharp grin fell, screen flickering lightly as he leaned in closer. And for a brief moment, Alastor too was stunned to see the reflection that stared back. His shivering frame rocked his entire body, forcing it to wilt as pathetically as the ears that once stuck straight up. His nose was not unlike the color of his suit, feverishly flushed and twitching madly as he slowly lost the battle against an itch that never seemed to...to...!

“Hgg'tshhhew! Hih-Hegg’tshhhhew!” He let out another desperate set, and Vox yelped as he stumbled back.

“Jesus, fuck! Watch where you're pointing that thing!”

“Well maybe if you weren't in my way you w-wouldn't…h-hhheh..! HeT̴̗͓̱͘̕͜S̵̮͚̽́C̵̼̱̠͎͓̀̊H̴͎̬͓͎͓̋́Ź̸̧̩̺̪̝͗̒͠Z̸͔̟͖̒̑͘ͅŹ̸͍͚̝̊̍T̸͔̔̽͌!̷̢̰̯̳́̀̉͒!“

Unable to safely trust his sensitive skin with the handkerchief he carried, he helplessly sneezed into the crook of his collar-- to no avail as the obvious happened and panic began to set in. He could only mourn his sloppy state of mind as he doubled over again.

“Het'tschhh! Het’shh! ‘Tschhh! ‘Tschh’HEW!” Alastor could feel himself lose control of his body. A blur of tentacles broke through the snow, writhing and curling in agony. And though the street was blurred with irritated tears and overwhelming vertigo, he swore he could feel unseen eyes crawl up his back. Examining him on a butcher’s block, sharpened cleavers waiting for the right angle to slice.

“Stop it. S-stop-- kaff! stop looking at me! All…all of you...” Alastor protested through slurring words. 

“There’s...uh. There’s nobody here.” Vox answered.

And all too suddenly the audience grew quieter, satiated– a fever dream that nearly willed itself into existence. But it didn’t matter. All The Radio Demon could do was fall limp into the snow like a ragdoll, landing with a sickening crunch, a sudden gasp responding in kind. If Alastor had the energy to laugh, he would. An all-powerful Overlord reduced to a useless toy. For once, Vox had The Radio Demon in his hands. He had the power to end his life. A limp ear twitched when Vox made the first move. The mounds of ice beneath him shifted. His opponent was thinking. Most likely deciding on how to kill him, or worse. A sharp row of claws slipped to his waist and...

...gently uprighted him, slinging one arm over his savior's neck. Then pulled close, fans whirring to life and soaking the android's wool suit like a soft bedwarmer.

And as two sets of foosteps picked up again, Vox grumbled out an irritable, “You're a fucking idiot.”

For the first time in his afterlife, Alastor couldn't help but agree.

The rest of the walk was a passing blur. By the time Alastor's eyes had opened and awareness returned, the ice between his bones had thawed under layers of blankets— though the ache between his eyes wasn’t quite as settled. He reached to massage the bridge of his nose, mortified to find that it was still horribly sensitive. He clenched his teeth and tried to will the sneeze back–

“Seriously? Again? Come on, it’s not like we’re on air.”

– as Vox continued to examine him, luck still run dry. He sat opposite on an identical couch, leaning over the coffee table between them.

“Why were you out in a storm.” He narrowed his eyes.

“I see no need to dihh...!" Don't you dare! "Di- snfff! dihh-! ...hhh...d-discuss my mundane shopping excursions.” Alastor breathed out, hiding a sigh of relief as the budding tickle subsided.

“Ouch! You have to be feeling like shit if your lies are this bad.”

“And why would I bother concealing the answer to such a ridiculous question? Are you really interested in my everyday activities? My, your obsession for me must run deep.”

A spark popped from Vox’s antennae. “Will you shut up and take this seriously?! I'm trying to interrogate you!”

Alastor hummed, unimpressed as his dulled eyes swept the room. Garish pink and gold wallpaper rudely invaded his vision, wallpaper and furniture alike littered with disgustingly gaudy hearts. And to add insult to injury, the hideous decor touted posters of a familiar Overlord's sex workers. The most famous front and center, proudly rubbing a quote on quote “sexy as fuck” smirk in his face. Well. At the very least, The Radio Demon respected his attempts to make that miserable masquerade of a smile real.

But still.

Eugh.

“You really must choose a more intimidating cell for your next victim. Unless you mean to torture me with sparkles and hearts.” Technical clockwork whirred irritably, flickering screen brightening at the center, not unlike a flustered blush. Alastor's smug grin widened. Pushing himself up on a couch that smelled of smoke and cheap cologne, he grabbed the cane leaning against an armrest, clutching the handle with a death grip. “Now if you'll excuse me, I-- kff kfff! I must be going. I can only entertain your antics for so long."

"Whoa, hey, wait! Don't you dare--"

The second Alastor stood his body swayed, caught in another wave of dizziness. He was pulled in all directions, pitching down down down-- and into Vox's arms.

“The fuck! I saved you from a double death, the least you can do is listen to me!” He spat.

“Oh? And why should I do that?” Alastor huffed. He couldn't help but feel humiliation return at the way he was cradled– cradled– bridal style. Slipped back into the makeshift bed, Vox motioned to the wall wordlessly. Slowly, carefully, Alastor followed suit, paling at the garish sight of his shadow. Its form dripped heavily like ink, clutching its chest and swaying dangerously. Its ears pinned to its skull, stomach heaving once. Twice. Until the tickle that still lingered brushed just under Alastor's nostrils and he found the damn thing mirroring his every feeling, physical or otherwise. He cursed, instinctively reaching for the ruined handkerchief in his breast pocket— when a box of tissues was unceremoniously shoved under the crook of his arm.

“There. There's your fucking reason. Now stay. Down.” Vox hissed through gritted teeth.

And through a string of curses, Alastor ripped two— three— five tissues from the box, bringing it to his nose. “Het’kshhh!! Het’kschhhzzt! Hehh…hekt-! Het’KSCHHHZZT!!”

His lungs finally gave out, collapsing back into the cushions with a hacking cough, wincing in pain.

“Y'see?” Vox snapped, “You suck at not dying but you keep tempting it anyway! How the fuck am I supposed to keep my viewers entertained if you keep doing that?!”

“Doi'g– kff! ...what? ETCHHḤ̵̡̰̣͌̽Z̶̧̠̙̍Ẕ̶̼̱̬̆Ź̵̦T̵̢̳̅͌̊̓!” Alastor wheezed out, blowing his nose. Dignification be damned, he was already saved by this walking, talking eyesore. He didn't expect to sink any lower. “I-- Snff! Ugh, pardon me-- I don't follow.”

“That!” Vox gestured wildly, “That whole ego shit you've got goin' on!”

Alastor opened his mouth to question when a palm pressed to his head. All words died in his throat, and the world came to a standstill, claws blaring with each mechanical beep.

"...102.4." Vox decided, "Ugh, no wonder you're dizzy. Your body's probably running on empty and…uh."

He faltered when he met Alastor’s face– eyelids fluttered closed, ears drooped. He pressed further into the cool, metallic palm, entirely hypnotized. Involuntarily peace only lasting a moment before he stepped back at the sudden telltale twitch of his patient’s nose.

"Et’schhhzzt! Heh-eh-S̵͇̓̀͜C̶̮̻̉H̸̗̃Z̵̛͎͋Z̶̮̖̀͋Z̴͍͎͝Z̷̬̼̀T̷͕̦̓!" He pitched forward, the reluctant caretaker yelping as he barely dodged another wild, uncontrollable circle of tentacles. Shivering, frost laced Alastor’s breath as the lights in the room flickered and darkened– only for a moment as he felt the weight of a comforter. He sunk into the sudden warmth, shadowy whips snaking under the floorboards and disappearing entirely.

"Look, just. Let’s call whatever this is a truce, okay?" An onyx-tipped ear twitched in response from under the hem of the covers. Suddenly, a piercing whistle broke through the darkness. When he opened his eyes time had apparently passed, and Vox was hovering over him with a mug of tea-- and of course it was the Fuck Alastor mug.

"How charming." He sighed, feeling the heat of the ceramic between his claws, relishing the steam that loosened his slowly growing headache. Taking another tissue, he pressed it to his nose to keep from sniffling back the loose congestion that threatened to drip.

"I can see why you wanted to sponsor that broken down shack of a hotel. You're all so weak it's sad--"

"Rosie's."

Vox blinked, "...What?"

"Let me be perfectly clear: I'm only giving you what you want so you will finally stop screeching at me." Alastor muffled in cotton fabric. "I was going to Rosie's to..." His static-laced voice trailed off, as if testing the right words in his mouth. "...treat this bothersome illness."

Silence fell over the room. Vox stared like he had just burst into flames.

"I, uh. Oh." He stumbled over his own stuttering before readjusting himself, sharpening his smile and definitely not wiping the shock from his mind. "I-I mean Christ, about time!"

The Radio Demon narrowed his eyes, doing his best to focus and not somehow slip into unconsciousness while lying down. "I am simply doing this for my survival since you won't leave me to rest-- koff koff! Oh-- koff! Oh, dear." He mumbled, sipping the honey-laced drink to calm his throat. Surfacing with a soft hum to test his voice. "Besides, my death by illness is far less entertaining for you than viewed on those tacky picture boxes of yours."

And from the way you aren't broadcasting my suffering in the first place, your current motives are far more personal. He wanted to add. But didn't-- for his pounding headache, mostly. He wasn't interested in another childish tantrum complete with competitive singing. Instead he felt himself fade again, and allowed it. If not to see Vox's angry face one last time.

The next time Vox woke, the couch was empty.

Good. Finally rid of that smug ass face and stupid fuck ass bob, he rose to his feet, stretching his limbs and popping his spine for good measure— getting his synthetic nerves back in working order. Finally free of that walking malware, he could finally resume his work. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the empty mug resting on the nightstand. Well, it wouldn't hurt to check the balcony. Or the mini bar. And y'know, behind the TV. Just in case the dumbass decided to slink into the shadows.

And as he stepped up to the screen, the sudden blast of snowy static made him nearly leap out of his skin. A rapidly beating heart in his ears calmed, making way for a distant melody that played on the radio waves.

--Come on show me

Show me that you've got it

I wanna see that golden smile.

Oh Lady Luck, I knew, I knew you should

I knew I knew you would be good to me!--

Vox quickly flicked the remote with tightened fingers, an annoyed sigh breaking the short silence.

He really could never read that guy.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 3

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |-| Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Summary: In the wake of a terrible loss, the arrival of a new airman at Thorpe Abbotts promises to change the trajectory of Frankie's life forever

Warnings: Death, grief

Word Count: 3.9k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles

A/N: HE'S HEREEEE 🗣🗣🗣

It was dark in the mechanics' hut, the lights kept off during the day to preserve power, but the overcast nature of the afternoon did nothing to light the space from the outside. Hours had passed since the pilots had left, and although Frankie was never made privy to the specifics of their missions, she could tell by the amount of fuel that had been requested that they were going far, much further than they ever had before. There was not a man among them who hadn't seemed to have a dark cloud over his head as they had prepared to depart that morning.

She and Lemmons sat on the floor together, backs propped up against the wall, both too troubled by worry to work. Frankie had an old fashion magazine in her lap, and they passed the time by flicking through each section and poking fun at a myriad of ugly sweaters and ridiculous hats.

"Those are nice," Ken stated, pointing at a pair of green brogued shoes.

"Seriously? I think they're garish."

He shrugged. "My Fonda has some like it. They look nice on her."

She let out a low whistle, teasingly nudging his side as his face turned bright red, a satisfied smile curling his lips. For a boy as young as he was, he sure loved Fonda. Frankie had noticed the heart-shaped locket that hung from his neck the very first day they'd worked together, but it had taken weeks for him to let her have a look inside. It must have been nice to be loved the way she was.

The magazine was losing its charm. It had been over an hour, and they were running out of pages. With a huff, she tossed it across the room, landing in a heap of crumpled pages underneath the table. Ken looked over at her, raising a brow.

She shrugged. "Bored. Want a cigarette?"

Without waiting for an answer, Frankie dug around in her pocket and produced two loose, slightly bent cigarettes, passing one to Lemmons. She lit hers swiftly, taking in an inhale of smoke. He rolled his between his fingers, never bothering to light it. Sometimes she forgot he didn't smoke.

"I'm gonna take you for a drink tonight. We deserve it."

"I'm nineteen."

Frankie stared at him for a long moment. "...So?"

"So, I can't drink."

"Jesus Christ. Welcome to England mate, you might be the only nineteen-year-old currently in the country who doesn't already have a drinking problem."

He opened his mouth to respond, but before the words could emerge they were interrupted by a rapid knocking at the door. Far from the usual pounding thuds the men usually used, this knock was delicate, polite, but its urgency set Frankie's heart to beating twice as fast.

Scrambling to her feet, she rushed for the door, tossing her cigarette into the ashtray on the table as she passed. Hauling it open, a wave of nausea coursed through her as she saw George standing outside, hair damp from the drizzle, tie pulled loose away from her neck, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Wh-" Frankie trailed off as she slammed into her, gripping her in the tightest hug she'd ever felt. As she wrapped her arms around George's back, she could feel her shaking beneath her palms.

George let out one sob after another, face buried in Frankie's shoulder as her tears soaked the fabric of her coveralls. Looking back over at Lemmons, their gazes met in wide-eyed expressions of anxiety, and if George hadn't been crying so loudly Frankie was sure the thumping of her heart would've been audible.

"George- George," She spoke firmly, hands pressed to George's cheeks as she forced her to meet her eye. To be so harsh to a woman who needed nothing but softness ripped a hole through her, the guilt churning her stomach, but she needed to know. "Tell me what happened."

She nodded hurriedly, wiping her tears away with the backs of her hands. "They made it to Africa - we started getting messages through about an hour ago, but, uh..." George's lip trembled, and she sucked in a long, haggard breath. "Curt's dead, Frankie."

Lemmons let out some sort of strangled gasp as Frankie felt all of the blood drain from her face. For a moment she didn't know how to process the words, she just knew she needed to hold George - to hold her tight, tighter than anyone ever had. There was not an inch between them as she stroked a gentle hand through her golden hair, trying with all her might to keep breathing as she felt a warm tear roll down her cheek.

Over George's shoulder, she spied Ken making for the door, a frown casting a shadow over his boyish face. He met her eyes, and she offered him a nod, freeing him from the scene so he could inevitably tell the others.

The two women held each other for a long moment, Frankie's chin burrowed against George's collar. When she finally spoke, it was little more than a hoarse whisper, her throat suddenly dry as a bone.

"...And Bucky?"

Sniffing loudly, George pulled back, shaking her head. "No, no, he's okay. He made it to Algeria." Frankie hadn't released she was holding her breath until she let it escape her, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she nodded.

"Yeah? Yeah. Alright," She could worry about the others later - for now, knowing Egan was alive was enough to settle her drumming heart. "You need to go home, ok? You need to rest."

"My shift's not over, I still have to-"

"I am gonna walk up there myself and tell them you're not coming back today. Not tomorrow, neither. And if they've got a problem with that they can take it up with me - believe me, I don't give a shit if I take an insubordination charge over this."

A tearful smile broke out across George's face, holding onto Frankie's hand as it cupped her cheek. "Tangling with you? I don't fancy their chances."

Frankie chuckled, pulling her into one last hug and pressing her lips firmly to her temple. "Go, go. I'll see you soon, ok?"

"Yeah," She whispered against her neck, reaching out to squeeze her hand as she broke the hug, stepping backwards towards the door and disappearing.

As soon as she was alone, Frankie sucked in a long, laboured breath, collapsing into one of the rickety chairs that surrounded the table in the middle of the room. Doubling forward, she lay her head in her hands, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes as she focused on taking one breath after the next.

Since the war had begun, she had been cycling through phases of fear and calm, letting herself slip into the all too comfortable belief that it couldn't touch her here - couldn't take from her as long as she was home, as long as she was safe.

But God, how the world kept proving her wrong.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Almost a month had passed. Every mission took a toll, but the trip that had killed Curtis Biddick seemed to hang heavier than any other ever had.

Or perhaps it just seemed that way because of George.

Some nights Frankie would stay up late, rubbing exhaustion from her eyes as she fought to stay awake long enough to finish a chapter of her book, lit by the dim bulb of her bedside lamp. And then in the darkness she would hear a rustling, a casting aside of the course, army-issue bedsheets, and feel a weight press into the mattress beside her as George slipped under the covers, silently resting her head against Frankie's shoulder. She liked to listen to her heartbeat on the nights she felt most alone - when she felt the farthest from home, the most separated from the boy she almost loved - it brought her comfort to listen to that telltale sign of life radiating from the person closest to her. She had someone, and that was enough to live with.

Frankie had liked Curt, but she hadn't known him well. Sometimes she wished she had, if only so that she wouldn't feel so guilty, comforting her best friend over a loss she no longer felt so keenly. Instead, all she could do was softly whisper the words she was reading to her, and let her mere presence be the comfort as they both drifted off to sleep.

It had grown warm overnight, and the humidity combined with the heat of George's body burrowed close next to hers left Frankie slick with sweat by the time she woke up, her hair sticking to her neck in damp strands. Peeling the covers away as she clambered out of bed, careful not to disturb her sleeping friend, she made a beeline for the showers, hoping to wash away the unpleasant, sticky sensation that coated her skin. She was used to evening showers after a long day's work, and it felt strange to stare down at the hot water rolling off of her body and see it come away clear, clean, not streaked with the dirt and oil she was often coated with by the time she made it home each night.

Wringing her hair out with a towel as she made her way out of the bathroom, Frankie dodged the other women emerging from their beds as she reached her own area, her coveralls and workboots waiting for her on a nearby chair. George had moved back to her own bed, carefully removing each of the curlers she meticulously applied every night, just like all of the other servicewomen who were afforded the luxury of working indoors, a far cry from Frankie's reality. It wasn't that Frankie didn't like to dress up - she loved the chance to do her hair and makeup, to dress up and feel pretty for once - it just wasn't a practicality her profession afforded. Her hair needed to be out of the way, and it made no sense to waste money on makeup that would be ruined by sweat and grime within the hour.

"If Dye makes it back, there'll be a party tonight," George stated, watching her reflection as she looped her tie into a knot. "You gonna go?"

"Uh," Frankie considered this for a moment, sniffing her coveralls from the previous day and grimacing at the smell, switching them out for a clean pair. "Nah, not tonight, I don't think. I've already got some outstanding stuff from the last few days that needs sorting, it's gonna be a busy one."

"Alright, I'll see if Sandra and Helen are going."

"I'm glad you're going," Frankie smiled.

George's gaze turned to her, and she considered this for a moment before shrugging. "Can't sit here forever."

It was a fact that didn't need dwelling on, and Frankie wouldn't patronise her with praise. This was just the way their lives worked now. One by one, the women in their hut finished getting ready and left for their various jobs until Frankie was the only one left, locking up the front door as she exited. The burn that had scorched her palm had long since healed, leaving a mottled pink scar across her hand, but she could clutch the handlebars of her bike without pain now, so she had returned to her morning ritual of cycling as fast as she physically could to the airstrip, revelling in the feeling of the warm morning air blowing through her hair.

Dye's plane was swooping in as she arrived, and Frankie couldn't help but smile at the chorus of whoops and cheers that pierced the air, flight and ground crews alike lining the runway to await his valiant return. Twenty-five missions. She could barely fathom it. For as long as she could remember, planes like this had been her life, but she'd never flown in one - Dye had done it twenty-five times. The number boggled her, a reality so close to and yet so distinctly separate from her own.

"Frankie!" Lemmons called over from where he was sitting with a few of the local boys. The village kids had taken a shine to the young mechanic, and she found she rather enjoyed their presence, childish wit relieving the strain of their long working hours. She crossed the grass towards them as he spoke up again. "Gonna replace the panelling on the bombers from last week, you in?"

She shook her head, batting a hand dismissively. "Nah, you go enjoy the celebrations with the others, I'll handle it."

He frowned, a crease appearing between his brows. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, I hardly even know Dye, I'm not missing out. Take the night off, you deserve it."

A smile began to spread across his expression. "Well thanks, Frankie."

"No worries. Hey - did we get that delivery of rivets that was meant to come in?" Lemmons shook his head, and she shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I'll take a list to the boss of everything we need."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was growing dark, a work light on the tarmac illuminating one of the B-17 engines as she worked away at it, a pile of scattered tools littering the ground from where she had tried and failed to toss them back into her toolbox without paying proper attention. She could hear the muffled music far off in the distance, the lights from the party casting a golden reflection against the clouds like a beacon in the night. Tightening one of the bolts, Frankie prayed to herself that George was having fun.

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind alerted her to sudden company, but she was too engrossed in her work to turn. Besides, she could already guess who it was.

"Heya, Frankie," Bucky's voice came, and she suppressed a smirk at the accuracy of her prediction.

"Evenin'."

"We missed you at the party," He stated.

"Busy," She replied, letting out a grunt as she pinched the skin of her thumb with her wrench, flapping her hand for a moment to relieve the pain.

"Just came to see ya 'cause I don't think you've met Rosie yet."

Frankie let out a sigh, sliding her wrench into her pocket, speaking as she began to turn. "Bucky, if you boys have got yourselves another fucking dog, I swear-"

There was another man there, standing next to Egan, blue eyes watching her as she stumbled over her words, trailing to an awkward stop. She had a smear of oil across her forehead from where she had absent-mindedly wiped the sweat from her brow with a filthy hand, and Bucky pursed his lips tightly as he tried not to laugh.

"Not a dog," Rosie stated, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

"No," She breathed, snapping herself out of her awkwardness. "No, uh, sorry - Frankie, I'm Frankie," Holding out her hand to shake, she noticed its filthiness and grimaced, swiftly retracting it.

"Frankie's one of our mechanics," Egan explained. "She'd be happiest if we fired the rest of the ground crew and let her do the whole thing herself."

"But then who'd clean the dog shit and vomit out for me, eh?" Frankie shrugged, a pink spatter colouring her cheeks. Bucky almost frowned, taken aback by her uncharacteristically awkward demeanour.

"Look, I promised Buck I'd only be gone five minutes, so," He looked down at his watch, shrugging.

"No, no, that's fine, you have a good night," Frankie smiled, wiping her dirty palms on the sides of her trousers.

Bucky turned to leave, pausing for a moment. "Rosenthal?"

"Oh, no, I was gonna head off anyway, thanks Major," Rosie nodded, and they lingered in silence for a moment after Egan left, his silhouette disappearing into the darkness down the runway.

"Sorry I thought you were a dog," She chuckled slightly, breaking the quiet as she rubbed her thumb where she'd pinched the skin, a red mark forming.

"Well," Rosie shrugged, standing with his hands in his pockets. "Been called worse."

Frankie smiled, a flash of teeth in her grin as she glanced back at the engine for a moment, the great thing looming over her in its frame. "And... sorry Bucky dragged you all the way out here, I'm sure the party is much more interesting, and-"

"Hey, you don't have to apologise," He shook his head. With the work light shining on them, it seemed to cast a halo around her head, brown hair running golden along its edges. Even covered in filth, she must've been one of the prettiest girls he'd seen in... well, he couldn't quite recall. "How long have you been out here?"

"Uh, what time is it - eight?"

Rosie let out a laugh. "Gone midnight."

"Jesus Christ," She flashed him a tired grin. "Shit, I missed dinner."

"Well," He shrugged. "I am a Captain. Sure we can find something."

"You're on," Frankie agreed, the empty feeling in her stomach suddenly amplified once she realised how long it had been since she'd eaten. "Although, I'd better clean up first," She noted, wiping her hands on one of the engine rags.

"By the way, you've got a little-" Rosie gestured to his own forehead.

"Oh, shit," Frankie muttered, reaching up with the rag and just managing to miss the oil stain. He let out a chuckle, stepping forward.

"Here, lemme just-" She offered up the rag, and he dabbed at the stain, which less went away than it did smudge even more. He furrowed his brow as he tried to get rid of it, and she couldn't help but let out a laugh at the sheer concentration in his expression, their faces far closer than she would ever usually allow with a man she'd only just met. But there was something endearing in him, something safe. "I think... I think I got it."

"Thanks," Frankie chuckled, taking back the rag and stepping back towards the Nissen hut. "I'm just gonna wheel this engine inside and wash the crap off my hands, then we can go."

"I await your return, milady," Rosie nodded, smile turning to a cringe as she turned away from him. What was that? Don't say that!

She smiled to herself as she entered the hut, her pleased expression turning to a grimace as she got a waft of herself, the twelve-hour shift out in the sun making itself known. Oh shit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The mess hall was completely deserted, the only light coming from the kitchens as Frankie waited patiently for Rosie to return. He had volunteered to go and scrounge for food, confident that his rank would protect them if they were discovered, and she grinned as he returned, proudly carrying a large tin of peaches and a couple of bars of ration chocolate.

"Oh, perfect. Midnight feast," She beamed, taking a seat on one of the long benches that lined the tables as he sat down opposite, producing a tin opener from his pocket.

"Food fit for kings, I'd say," Rosie agreed, wrestling with the peaches for a moment until he was able to break the lid. Producing two forks, Frankie held one out to him, using her own to skewer a slice of the orange fruit.

"I'd just like to preface this by saying that I don't usually smell like this... actually, I do," She admitted, picking at some dirt stuck beneath her nail.

"Hey, I'm not judging - you wouldn't either once you'd smelled the inside of our flight suits," He shrugged, and she let out a huff of laughter, chewing on her peach slices, a droplet of sweet juice running down her lip. "So... how long've you been a mechanic?"

"Dad's been running an auto repair shop at home since before I was born, I grew up on it," Frankie explained, skewering another slice with one hand as she unwrapped her chocolate bar with the other. "He wanted to go over to France, help fix army jeeps, but he lost his foot in the Great War so they won't take him - I was born when he was away, see, he'd been over there for six months or so when a shell went off and he lost it. So the cars were all we had. I switched to planes when I was about fifteen - bit of an impractical hobby, but I've read every single book on it they had in Stratford library," She chuckled.

"Stratford... Shakespeare, right?"

Her brow raised. "Yeah. Right. Y'know I think the only good thing about this war is that the tourist buses have stopped coming around," She joked, and Rosie laughed, nodding along as he ate. Why was she telling him all this? In the last hour, he'd found out more about her than Bucky or Lemmons had in months. But she found she didn't feel embarrassed telling him any of it, the words just flowed naturally.

They sat there in the dim mess hall eating peaches until they started to feel sick, the hands of Rosie's watch ticking steadily past 1am by the time they left, making sure to hide all evidence of their midnight raid. It had begun to rain by the time they stepped out into the night air, and before Frankie could utter a single word of complaint he had shrugged off his uniform jacket and given it to her to hold over her head, her own makeshift shelter whilst his own curls fell flat, the water leaving dark streaks down his shirt.

"Are you sure about this?" She asked for what must have been the third time as they reached the end of her row of Nissen huts, Rosie's hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, his skin almost visible through the drenched state of his clothes.

"I said stop asking," He assured her, nodding confidently despite the visible trembling in his shoulders.

"I'm just worried I'm gonna ruin your jacket."

"Well, it'd die for a worthy cause."

Frankie grinned, slowing to a stop as she reached the front door of her hut. The lights were all off inside, not a single sign of life as her bunkmates enjoyed their well-earned sleep. When she spoke again, it was in whispers, careful not to wake them even despite the hammering of rain against the metal roof.

"Thank you for dinner, it was... unexpected."

"Very," Rosie nodded in agreement, mirroring her smile. She handed over his jacket, and he folded it, tucking it beneath his arm, already well past its usefulness.

"Tomorrow's gonna be a rough morning."

"Take the day off, have a lie-in, you deserve it."

She raised a brow, and he laughed. "You know I won't."

"I suspected as much," He agreed, nodding firmly. "G'night, Frankie."

"Goodnight."

Frankie slipped carefully inside, cautious not to make a sound as she crept over to her bed, stripping off her wet coveralls as she reached quickly for her nice, warm pyjamas.

When George's whispered voice broke the silence, she swore she almost had a heart attack. "You've been... working?"

"Something like that," Frankie shrugged, taking the fact she was awake as a sign of consent to turn her lamp on, giving her the light she needed to untie her boots. "Have you met the new Captain?"

"Who, Rosenthal? No. Why?"

She didn't answer for a long moment, buttoning up her pyjama shirt before flicking off the lamp, plunging the room into total darkness as she climbed beneath the blankets, letting out a satisfied sigh at the warmth.

"He's nice."

George let the silence simmer for a moment, her tone laced with suspicion. "... Right."

[natrogersfics]

The Anthology - Chapter 7: But Daddy I Love Him

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Steve looks up to see Maria’s typically collected expression overcome with incredulity, and from his seat in front of her desk, he can only shift in place. “I don't know how much clearer I can be, Maria,” he says, watching as his agent remains unfazed by his clipped tone. “She was drunk and in no condition to go home alone. It was the right thing to do. Anyone-”

"Anyone would have done it," Maria finishes for him. "That's what you were going to say, right?" He lifts his chin up, as if daring her to say what they both know she truly wants to. She scoffs. "Be that as it may, not just anyone would have stayed the night. And even worse, been stupid enough to get caught!" 

“I didn’t realize whose couch I crashed on was anyone’s business but my own,” he volleys back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It is when it’s Natasha Romanoff’s couch,” Maria says, only to sigh at the dagger of a glare he sends her way. “For God’s sake, Steve, these pictures of you two are already tanking your follower count-”

“I don’t fucking care about my follower count!”

“Then what about future projects? Do you care about that?” Maria asks, undeterred. “Because just yesterday, I had a meeting booked with the studio to look into extending your three-picture deal. Today, they suddenly need to take a raincheck?” Maria shakes her head as she reaches for the tablet on her desk before handing it to him. “That’s not a coincidence, Steve. Not in light of all this... protest.”

“What are you talking about?” he says, his brows furrowing in confusion. Maria’s only response is to extend the tablet further out to him, and reluctantly, he takes the device to see the Twitter trending page pulled up on the screen, his name in bold font at the very top. An exasperated sigh falls from his lips as he taps on it. Call him old fashioned, but he had never come to understand the allure of an online presence. He had resisted building one for as long as he could, acquiescing only when the subject had become a sticking point in the new age of contract negotiations. Even then, he was only too happy to hand over the reins to Maria and her team. And as he skims through these responses now, he couldn’t be more thankful that he did.

“Jesus,” he says as he haphazardly drops the tablet back onto Maria’s desk, shaking his head as though the action will erase what he’s just seen. For those comments he’s just read – if they could still even be called that – are nothing short of vitriolic. How people could have the courage to release such vile things online, opining about matters they not only haven’t a scintilla of a clue about, but also absolutely no business casting judgment on, he couldn’t comprehend. “Where was all this outrage when I put my hands on that pap?”

Maria’s expression softens a touch at that, her silence a resounding confirmation of what he already knows. “Steve, I know you… care for her,” Maria carefully begins a beat later. “But, rightly or wrongly, they’ve already decided who and what she is. Don’t let her drag you down with her.”

A cold, humorless chuckle falls from his lips. “How is it that the person who’s supposedly dragging me down is the only one that actually lets me breathe around here?” Now more than ever, he could see it. The way people conflated him with the paragon of virtue that was Captain America, a mere character he plays. He gestures towards the tablet. “Am I even an actual person to these people, Maria?” He shakes his head. “And I’m just supposed to believe that all of this is just, what? Because they care about me?”

His hands curl into fists at the very thought, and before him, Maria can only press her lips into a line. For the reality is bleak. These strangers pontificating about their disappointment in his choices are the same ones who claim, adamantly, to have his best interests at heart. It didn’t matter that what they ask of him, what they feel ever so entitled to implore him to do, is the one thing that will break him. They’ve already set the rules, the price of his defiance already outlined – live up to the perfect, impossible image that they’ve built of him in their minds or be at their perceived mercy.

To hell with that.

The response comes to him instantaneously. For it's all clear to him now. In the end, it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Nothing about what the sanctimonious, faceless keyboard warriors say online changes the fact that he’s never been happier than when he’s with Natasha. It doesn’t diminish the joy he feels when he hears her laugh or when her verdant eyes are the first thing he sees when he opens his. Or the spark that rushes through his veins, making him feel more alive than he’s ever felt, when he has her hand in his. And, above all else, it won't make him forget that it wasn't until he had her in his arms, the both of them sprawled out in comfortable silence on her couch this morning, that he finally felt whole for the first time in weeks.

There isn't anything in the world that could hold a candle to any of that. He isn’t going to let there be – no matter what it costs him.

He rises from his seat, watching as a knowing yet still apprehensive look crosses Maria’s face. She sighs. “Steve.”

“It’s my life, Maria,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “My choices are just that, mine. And I choose her.” 

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

[nonagesiiiimus]

eden's tlt reread: chapter two

finally getting to write up my chapter two thoughts! let's gooooo!

starting off strong with some numbers! this is gideon's 87th escape attempt (p.25). interestingly, harrow is also the 87th nona of her house. when looking into this, because everything means something with tamsyn, there's an interesting bible quote from Judges 8:7: "So Gideon said, "Well then, when the Lord has given Zebah and Zalmunna into my hand, I will flail your flesh with the thorns of the wilderness and with briers." (adding Orange here as my biblical references color!) of course this feels extra significant because of Gideon's name mention, but the promise of violence and demise ties back into the Tamsyn's comments in the naming guide, about someone's demise being written in Gideon's name ("Gideon is a prophetic name: someone named their own demise in her" (468)). i also think it's worth noting the quote from John 8:7, "When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” while it doesn't directly tie into any events, i think it relates to some of the overall themes of forgiveness for sins/perceived sins in this series- especially harrow, who is always seeking forgiveness and striving for perfection to make up for where she feels she has sinned.

harrow comes to gideon as the last of the three temptations, in our Gideon-is-Jesus framework. the devil tempts jesus three times in the desert, and each time jesus refuses... "The temptation in the desert shows Jesus, the humble Messiah, who triumphs over Satan by his total adherence to the plan of salvation willed by the Father". except, in our case, Gideon doesn't refuse. she gives in to her own personal temptation- the idea of freedom, and of savagely beating Harrow's ass. she is not immune to temptation, for sure...

i liked noting all the references to harrow's hands leading up to the battle between them, which in looking back makes it SO much more obvious Something Is Up. first one is on the first page of the chapter (25), but we chalk it up easily to harrow being cloistered in fabric because of her supreme gothiness. then, her massaging her hands (26). she's clearly sore from digging all night! (why, harrow, no shovel? why no shovel harrow? why?)

also the first instances of understanding the true War Crimes committed by Harrow's parents, and Gideon's understanding and role in them/covering them up: "That’s the moment I squeal,” said Gideon. “I squeal so long and so loud they hear me from the Eighth. I tell them everything. You know what I know. And I'll tell them the numbers. They’d bring me home in cuffs, but I’d come back laughing my ass off” (26).

“rattling both their prayer beads and their unlubricated knee joints” (26): prayer beads are clearly an allusion to rosaries!

“How coarse and ordinary,” she said. “How effective, how crass. My parents should have smothered you" (26). @hauntingofthewoods and i were also talking about how often Gideon is referred to in a way that is like how someone would talk to/about an animal or something lowly that casual cruelty, like one would dole out to a pest, is a common and building theme in how Gideon characterizes herself throughout the series. we saw this in c1 with Aiglamene slapping her carelessly like "a barking animal", and here again i was reminded of that with the smothering comment. also, the description of Gideon squealing in the section before is also quite animalistic, even if it is a saying already. Gideon sees herself as a mistreated forgotten animal, and one of her core motivations seems to be To Be Seen as something More. horrible, heartbreaking. moving on before i cry.

banging ass quote (by banging, i mean heartbreaking) that will come back to haunt us: "All because,” said Gideon, checking her clock again, “I completely fucking hate you, because you are a hideous witch from hell. No offence.” There was a pause. “Oh, Griddle!” said Harrow pityingly, in the silence. “But I don’t even remember about you most of the time" (27). this sentence comes back to haunt us twofold, as we'll see.

there is another repetition of three temptations from Harrow to Gideon: the muster, Gideon's sense of duty, and then a bribe. which, ultimately, Gideon falls for.

"Paper- real paper!" (27). completely fascinating to me, and something that i'll continue to track mentions of.

"She’d lose rights to Gideon forever. Gideon went absolutely cold" (28). i love the double entendre you can read in this quote: Gideon's understanding that Harrow being willing to lose her hold on her is super serious, and also the potential that the cold feeling is from Gideon not knowing how to feel about complete and utter freedom from the Ninth once she is actually handed it. shock and disbelief, and maybe a little unsurety?

"You threaten my House, you disrespect my retainers, you lie and cheat and sneak and steal—you know full well what you’ve done, and you know that you are a disgusting little cuckoo!” “I hate it when you act like a butt-touched nun,” said Gideon, who was only honestly sorry for one of the things in that lineup" (29). Gideon is only sorry for disrespecting Aiglamene :(

also! a cuckoo is a bird known for laying its eggs in the nests of other bird species, leaving those unsuspecting birds to raise its young. As the cuckoo chicks develop, they often push out the host bird's own offspring. this is another gideon-as-animal description, referencing her 'adoption' into the Ninth house. tysm @hauntingofthewoods for pointing that out!!

i like seeing Gideon's first stripped-down description of Harrow at the end of p. 29, as a "cropped black head and her face pinched with wrath... a desperate girl younger than Gideon, and rather small and feeble" (29). it's so interesting to see how Gideon views Harrow, sees into her soul, but also still underestimates her in this moment.

"Gideon had seen Harrow in this mood only once before, and had thought she would probably never see her in this mood again" (30). when would she have been so desperate for a raw fight? in the instance Gideon describes in HTN, when they are fighting before Harrow decides to commit suicide via the tomb? when her parents kill themselves?

"Cruz stared back at her with the hate of an exploding star: the empty hate of pressure pulled inward, a deforming, light-devouring resentment” (32). at first this is just a sick and wicked simile. and then i went- wait. hatred of a dying star… dying planets... RESURRECTION BEAST REFERENCE??? ALECTO??

"I gave her my whole life" (31). kill me, gideon. kill me. this hurts so bad.

i like the contrast between what Gideon thinks should happen in their fight- "What ought to have happened was that Gideon raised a booted foot and knocked Harrow ass-over-tits"- and what DOES happen: Gideon, gets her ass beat by Harrow's secret and spiteful skeleton army below the drillfield, and is ended with the final sentence, "Harrowhark kicked Gideon in the face" (31-33). the callback to Gideon wanting to kick Harrow but instead getting kicked BY Harrow is so good.

their banter at the end of this chapter is so good. so mean. and i hurt so badly for gideon. seeing this: "She couldn’t; she was too winded still. She couldn’t even raise a shaking middle finger to the victor: she just kept looking at the shuttle, and her suitcase, and her sword" just HURTS.

that's all i have on chapter two! i thought i wouldn't have much to say, and still wrote a fucking book. sue me!!!

[djwiththejd]

The Fall of the House of Usher (2023) Episode 1

A foreword, of sorts: If someone had told me in high school or even college that I would willingly sit down to watch a horror tv show, I would have laughed in their face. Who knew it would take my college professor Emma's teachings of Pym and my first foray into Critical Theory that I brought with me to law school to get to this point. I haven't even finished watching School Spirits yet so the depression has really taken me for a ride, but my boyfriend says I need a hobby, and I spent two and a half hours and 7 and a half pages of notes on just the first episode of this show, so I'm going to write about it because I miss writing.

If you're here from twitter, may the gods have mercy on your soul.

Now, let's move on to business. My recap of Episode 1 of The Fall of The House of Usher. There will be spoilers for the Poe stories as well as detailed commentary of the events within the episode, so obviously I'm going to put a SPOILER WARNING for whatever you read below. Also, since the first episode introduces the story and the characters, it will probably be long as heck and full of background that no one but me cares about because I'm a huge nerd. I don't care if you skim. Read at your own peril; stay tuned for danger.

Firstly, let's talk about the original short story and see if Wikipedia can help me write a good, short summary of the premise/plot of that story. From within the first two minutes of the show, I can tell that we are going to deviate wildly from the plot.

In the original short story, published in 1839, the tale is told by an unnamed narrator who has been called to the House of Usher at the behest of his childhood friend Roderick Usher who is ill and needs help. Roderick and his twin Madeline are the only living members of the Usher family left alive in their family mansion. One thing that high school teachers everywhere probably tried to teach their students is to pay attention to the narrator's notice of a thin crack that extends from the roof, down the house, and into the nearby lake. This may be important later, but for me right now, I view it as a double entendre. Spoiler alert, at the end of the original short story, both Roderick and Madeline die, leading to the "fall" of the House of Usher, in that the last two living descendants die and therefore end the family name, and also the literal "fall" of the house, the family mansion that they lived in.

I have to admit I watched the first two minutes, tweeted about it, then got so engrossed about halfway through the episode that I grabbed a legal pad and started the episode from the beginning.

Firstly, the opening starts with a countdown to New Year's 1980 before we see a quick image of a cawing raven and a creepy vision of Carla Gugino's smiling face. The episode is titled "A Midnight Dreary," a line from Poe's "The Raven," so at this point I'm confused because obviously this is a completely different short story, but I roll with it. Unfortunately, I didn't have the foresight last night to look ahead and see what the other episode titles were, because then I would have probably understood the plot a little better.

We cut now to a stained glass window in a church (hello Jesus symbolism, can't wait to ponder you later) and then the pastor seems to be giving a eulogy about three dead people. We cut to an older gentleman with a teen girl sitting behind him who seems to be remembering 6 different visions. Side note: I googled the eulogy, and it cobbles together various lines from Poe's poems as well as quotes that are ascribed to Poe. At this point I guess that the older man and older women in sunglasses are the twins, and wonder who the teen girls are behind each of them before seeing MARK MOTHERFUCKING HAMILL on the screen. Even in my notes I just write him down as Mark Hamill, or MH, which is a real shame because his character's name is Arthur Pym, which is the main character from the only "book" Poe ever wrote, and there's a lot of controversy around whether it was finished or not, but I spent several classes in undergrad analyzing that book in particular, so it has a very soft spot in my heart.

Roderick(?) turns back and sees a figure with a blacked out face in the rafters, but then the girl turns around, nobody is there. When she turns to him, she calls him Grampus, so I can assume this girl is his granddaughter and not his daughter. Then Roderick (?) says, "She's here." Not quite to his granddaughter, but mostly to himself. How cryptic. I'm sure we won't think about that until it jumps right into our faces. At this point, in hindsight I had assumed that the "very pale girl" behind Madeline was her granddaughter, but oh how wrong I was.

Outside the church, we see press all over, but the church itself was noticeably empty. Then, then, we cut to a cork board. This confirms Roderick and Madeline are who I thought I was, and also gives Mark Hamill the name of Arthur Pym. Then, I painstakingly went in and paused at nearly every second of the next scene to read the details on the children, their dates of death, and any bits of information I could get from the articles about cause of death (aka COD.) The death dates are clustered very closely together. I don't know quite yet if it goes from youngest to eldest, but I'm sure we shall find out.

Then, the big reveal. Well, to me at least. I saw that the Assistant U.S. Attorney was C. Auguste Dupin, and let me tell you I pumped my fist in the air and nearly woke up my sleeping boyfriend next to me. Why? You don't care but I'm going to tell you. Dupin was introduced in The Murders in the Rue Morgue (1841), my favorite Poe short story, and also the first ever piece of writing ever coined as "detective fiction." Yes, my absolute favorite genre of writing was created by Edgar Allan Poe, so as problematic as he may have been, I will always be grateful to him for this. Besides, the plot for Rue Morgue was so wild, I saw Dupin's name and had to pause and tweet about it. Specifically, I tweeted about hoping that one of the CODs would be strangulation by an escaped monkey. Mind you, like an idiot, I still haven't looked at the damn names of all of the episodes of the series. Since last night, I have been told to keep an eye out, so that's fun.

I can't believe I typed all of that up from the first like, three minutes of the show. I warned you this was going to be long.

Then, we pan out to the corkboard being a whole ass murder board. We love that. Still no clue who Pym is and why he's alive, but the random guy who walked into the office to talk to Dupin just said something about a Pym Reaper, so I got a chuckle out of that. There's emphasis here about "him" wanting to talk. Obviously, by process of elimination, this him is Roderick.

Dupin takes a taxi (oooh, vintage) to this location, and we see it is a dilapidated house. The "House" of Usher, methinks? I will say it definitely gives rise to the gothic vibe of terror and dread, but thankfully we're not going into Gothic architecture, that would have been a little too on the nose. The clothing I've seen is very modern and the death dates are all in November, so I genuinely thought it was set last year but it wasn't. Everything is apparently set to happen next month. In the future. How foreboding.

Roderick invites Dupin in and Dupin attempts to console Roderick for his losses, but Roderick seems much more focused on the drink in his hand. Henri IV Dudognon Heritage Cognac Grande Champagne. I googled it and apparently it is a real drink. I have to say, Roderick really doesn't seem to curry favor with Dupin when he suggests "a single pour is probably worth double your annual salary" but then he offers a glass to Dupin. This man is clearly going through something. By now, I can surmise it is the death of his family, but is this The House of Usher? Is this dilapidated building the same setting that we see in the original tale? Is Dupin now taking the place of the unnamed narrator of past?

Dupin still tries to apologize, but Roderick just seems...resigned to his fate. Also, Dupin asks where Mr. Pym is and we find out that Mark Hamill is playing a defense attorney. Amazing. Three years of law school and a JD later, and Mark Hamill, one of my favorite actors, is playing an attorney with the name of one of my most intriguing literary characters. All of my worlds have collided.

Roderick waives his right to an attorney and sits Dupin down across from him to talk. Dupin says Roderick got away with it, Roderick says no one really ever gets away with anything, not really. Dupin pushes back and says Madeline would beg to differ. Roderick says you can ask yourself, she's downstairs in the basement. At this point, I am convinced that Madeline is dead and buried, but this episode will not reveal that information to me. Trust me, I'm holding onto that theory because it is close in parallel to the original story, but I am soooo open at this point to being surprised because the actor for Roderick has sucked me in completely. Bruce Greenwood. I have painfully powerful facial recognition, so it delights me that I've never seen him in anything before so I can get sucked into his acting completely. Seriously, I just recently recognized the brother in Get Out from a single episode of Victorious because that one episode is my favorite. It can ruin my immersion sometimes.

Anyhow, back to the story. I'm rambling, but I have ADHD and I miss stream of consciousness writing so this is more for me than it is for you.

Roderick's phone vibrates, he says it is his granddaughter, Lenore. My eyeballs are rolling back into my head. We have a connection to The Raven, finally. She's not dead at present, so we shall see if she follows her namesake into the Great Beyond. Dupin tries to graciously allow Roderick to take that call and cites that "grandkids take priority" but Roderick calls him out!

He says "Don't lecture me about family values. You're just as shit in that department as I am."

At this point I am confused but I can't look away. Roderick says he wants to give his confession. Dupin whips out a recorder. November 20th, 2023. Roderick confirms we are in his childhood home. I am vibrating like a cat because I think my theory is correct, and I realize that based off of the death dates of his children, that much of this series will be told from this setting, in those chairs, and with flashbacks to important moments.

I was not prepared for the beginning of this story. In 1953, the house is warmer, more cheerful. R and M are just children, and Roderick speaks about "the woman who would shape every choice we would ever make." Their mother. Eliza. Aptly given the same name as Poe's mother. Personal secretary to the CEO of Fortunato Pharmaceuticals. The same company the Ushers own in modern times. Already I have questions about the lineage of the twins, but you know how it is.

"Not here. Not ever. We agreed." Very cryptic words, Mr. Longfellow. Madeline always hated him, she "always knew." Knew he was a liar? A terrible person? Or did she know he was their father?

Then we get into the religious phrases the mom uses. "Like Jesus, he loves from afar." "He's complicated, like God." I always find it very interesting but also very sad when the words a woman uses to justify a man's abuse is cloaked in a veil of religion. I won't go into detail on that, though. There just isn't time.

Jump to 1962. Nine years later, the twins look to be teenagers. Their studying is interrupted by a bell, and we cut to Eliza ringing a bell in bed. There is a plethora of crosses now hanging on the wall behind her, so that's...lovely. Both twins rush to her, and Eliza pushes a glass of water away. At first I thought it was rabies, but then Eliza seems to be suffering from pain in her pelvic region based off of how her actress was portraying her pain. Honestly, my theory is that she probably had an untreated STI which may have spread to other organs. Either way, her denial of medication or a doctor horrifies me. The screaming and the vitriol is a complete tone shift to who she was prior. But what I really find interesting is that Madeline, not Roderick, seems to be the brains of the pair. She is the one who coaches Roderick on what to say and how to say it to Longfellow, even though Roderick eventually messes up. There seems to be a double entendre in the way Madeline says "it's the least he can do." Because I have suspicions that Madeline knows he is their father, I keep autofilling this in my head. The shift in Mr. Longfellow's mood from humorous, almost mocking disbelief to anger and contemptuous pushback against the twins when Roderick tells him "she loves you" is enough for me. Even Madeline following up with "It's the least you could do. For her. For us." isn't necessary anymore for me to believe he is the father.

Longfellow's denial only seals the deal.

Cut to Eliza's...corpse. She didn't make it, but in trying to keep with her wishes, they tear apart the shed and build her a coffin and bury her in the backyard. Of course, because *spoiler alert* Madeline was accidentally buried alive, I had a hunch Eliza might climb out of her grave. I was proven right, and Eliza wakes up, tries to attack Roderick, but stops when Eliza calls her "Mommy" and grabs her arm. (Actress for teen Madeline is also fantastic, her look of horror was evocative as fuck. 10/10. No notes.) ELiza then walks out, goes into the gates of Longfellow's house and proceeds to choke him to death (with apparently superhuman strength) before finally collapsing next to his body.

What I *love* about this all is that when we cut back to the present, and Dupin asks about why Roderick is telling him all this, Roderick says it is because she's standing right behind Dupin! And you know what drives me nuts? SHE IS. SHE'S TOTALLY THERE AND HE DOESN'T TURN AROUND! Dupin does not see her and we see eliza walk out of the frame.

It is important to note that Roderick talks about the cleanup of that story to spare "his" family, the Usher family, of any embarrassment. He confirms that Longfellow was his father but doesn't claim him as family because Longfellow never claimed him, but it explains why he acknowledges all six of his children from five different mothers.Roderick wouldn't close the gates. Finally, we have confirmation, verbal confirmation from Roderick about who his father was.

Side note: Dupin has a husband, how progressive. I'm down for it. We love it when the elderly LGBTQ+ community is acknowledged.

Two weeks ago:

Then we switch to a trial against Fortunato Pharmaceuticals and the Usher "crime" family, according to Dupin's opening statement. As someone who did pretty damn well in both evidence and criminal law, I'm side-eyeing this opening statement. Let me tell you, law school ruins your ability to suspend disbelief for so many court things in television and movies. Also Fortunato? After The Cask of Amontillado? That's the short story I had to read in high school, and I enjoyed it enough. It does, however, tie in well if the company is also destroyed, locked away, hidden from society, whatever you want to call it to tie into the ending of Cask.

I will say this, Roderick fathered gorgeous children nonstop. Every one of these actors is stunning. I found it odd that the camera panned to Lenore and her mother(?) for a close up when Dupin talks about corruption ut when panned out Lenore is hidden from the view of the audience. At this point, I had not drawn any conclusions as to why that is. I kept fixating on "The Pale Girl," who we later find out is Juno, Roderick's newest wife. Let me tell you, that revelation was crazy because I thought she was Madeline's sole daughter who idolized Dita Von Teese and Dolores Umbridge in the worst hybridization of ways, but Ruth Codd's facial expressions are stunning. I'm visibly uncomfortable when I look at her, and that's fantastic. She's showing me so much with her body language, I can't stand how good she is. Anyhow, I love her. I will be following more of her.

Then, Dupin drops the bomb. The bomb. The thing that makes Madeline's face go from quiet amusement to concern. The statement that makes every Usher child react. There's an informant in the midst. And it is one of them.

Pym, in my opinion, correctly calls out the failure to disclose the identity of this informant. When counsel approaches the bench, this opening statement about the family witness is struck from the record, but it does what Dupin intends it to do. It rattles the whole family. Pym probably makes so much damn money off of these people.

Roderick calls a family dinner for everyone and their spouses. Then we cut to introductions of each family member. Frederick turns out to be the father of Lenore, and his wife's name is Morrie, I think? I had to check Wikipedia for this, but her name is Morella, she's a former actress and model, and now she makes hyper-realistic cakes. Freddie gives me Dan Levy vibes. He blames Perrie, who I assume is Prospero. Lenore calls out that the informant would "have to be pretty brave, I guess" and asks if the charges are true. At this point, there is a massive, MASSIVe red flag waving in my head. Is Lenore the informant? Or is she the red herring? It gets more juicy when she suggests that "if someone really broke the law, shouldn't they be punished?" The red flag...of justice? Morrie casually warns that breaking away from family rank would get you written out of the will, highlighting the difference in values between Lenore and the rest of the family.

Then we cut to Tamerlane and her husband, Bill T. Wilson. (Very cute reference to a short story Poe wrote called William Wilson.) She also says her money on the informant is "one of the bastards." All this does it solidify her and Freddie as the two children Roderick had "in wedlock." Bill suggests the informant is Freddie, and Tamerlane pushes back. She muses that it might be Perry, Bill suggests Juno, her "new stepmom." Tamerlane bristles at this, but also drops that Juno doesn't "know anything." If she really is so new to the family she doesn't know its secrets, then she's the most innocent one there and is also the only one who took the charges against the family seriously enough to not be able to hide it on her face. Tamerlane mentions Goldbug, a short story I have not read, and Tamerlane drops an important tidbit: She doesn't care about the world, she cares about what her dad thinks." I had to google who tf Blippi is for this conversation. Also, they do threesomes? Also, TEST MONKEYS?

Yep. We're going to have the true Rue Morgue murder. We are now introduced to Victorine. And her surgical partner/life partner. They have a successful surgery of some sort on a test monkey. Post-op the women are seen talking about struggling to get peer review because of nightshade. Whatever this nightshade powder Roderick sent over, it's working, but it is the same stuff that paralyzes South American tourists who get it blown in their face. Spooky. Victorine jokes about keeping away from Perry. That boy does not have anyone on his side for this. He's painted as young, immature, and apparently a date rapist so far. However, Victorine points the finger at Camille!

We jump to Leo, apparently on the phone with his boyfriend Julius. He convinces Julius to not come to the family dinner, but he finds out that Julius is on his way up while he's getting head from a woman. So Leo is a bisexual and he's a cheater. Love that about him. Has a black cat named Pluto.

We shift to Camille, apparently the HBIC of the family's PR. She tosses out orders to her drab little assistants hastily scribbling down notes. Her comment about Victorine is not unnoticed, but Camille puts aside her own feelings about her sister in order to push ahead of the PR disaster of the trial. When asked about Juno, Camille has a lot more frustration there for the massive age gap and lack of, idk, decorum about Juno? I'm intrigued as to what "Scraped her off the emergency room floor" means but I'm sure I will find out. Her main priority is sniffing out the informant, she also points to Perry but also claims she doesn't think he's clever enough to talk to the Feds without it ending up on Tiktok. Ouch. Give Perry a damn break. Or don't. He sounds awful. They all certainly seem awful. Like Tamerlane, Camille seems eager to please her father, emphasizing that she wants to be the one who finds the informant to deliver their head to her father.

Juno speaks! and she's Irish. I love that. Apparently she moderated an NA meeting once, so she's either a drug addict or a drug addict seriously affected her family. Tie-in to the Fortunato company? Possible motive? Possible mole? We shall wait and see. I love the comedy Roderick drops in about how the children have to love Juno because the only thing stronger than love is their fear of getting written out of the will.

Then the family doctor arrives with private news on Roderick should hear...My money is either terminal cancer or a slow poisoning. Either way, we don't know what's up before- Surprise! Prospero, aka Perrie shows up.

We see him pour Glenfiddich '96 and I find out he and I are the same age...He pitches a nightclub to Roderick and Madeline who magically shows up and Juno flicks off to Godzilla-knows-where. Apparently he had a full year to come up with a proposal for his first business venture and his idea for a super exclusive nightclub gets shut down mercilessly because the Ushers are about "changing the fucking world." Perrie walks away with his tail between his legs and Madeline checks in with Roderick before heading off to the dining room. She claims when the paperwork is passed out, she'll be able to tell. Apparently she can always tell when someone is...lying? We shall see.

Briefly, we see Carla Gugino put down a drink and say "For the road" which clearly freaks Roderick out because how did this strange woman show up in his mansion's bar?

Cut to dinner, Morrie presents a textbook and Starbucks and we have an Is It Cake momen to light applause from everyone. I can't quite tell if he's being sarcastic about him marrying Morrie, but Freddie moves on to suck up to Roerick by complimenting Juno.

Madeline passes out a new and improved NDA (thank you Pym for your tireless work, I hope you are paid handsomely for this) including details about forfeiture of inheritance, etc regarding being the informant and the consequences that ensue. Victorine's partner Alessandra tries to not sign it until her own lawyer looks it over but one look from the family makes her change her mind.

The siblings bicker before Madeline shuts it down, explains the importance of Fortunato and threatens the informant with certain death. I know it is meant to be serious but I admit I had a little giggle. Then Roderick says "Fifty million dollars." The twins have placed a bounty on the unknown informant's head, effectively pitting the family against each other.

In the present, Roderick laments that this was the last time he saw all of them together, and the last time he saw some of them alive. He claims responsibility for the deaths of all of his children. Even though Dupin claims that these bizarre deaths are all verified to not be linked, Roderick doubles down, and then finally brings up "a woman." Now things are getting juicy. Carla Gugino appears in a variety of lighting and with different hair, so that suggests we'll see here several times throughout the show.

We cut now to New Year's Eve, 1979 heading into 1980. The twins are dressed as Gatbsy and Daisy, I gag a little at the incestual implications even though I knew they were coming, and sit back and watch how the twins first meet the woman, now known as Verna. Apparently they enter a bar hoping for enough people to be around to provide them with an alibi. Whatever they came from at Fortunato Pharmaceuticals, they need witnesses. We see again that Madeline is the mastermind behind every plan. A conversation about resolutions with Verna ensues.

We pan to the present. Dupin talks about some other event that happens that night. Verna predicts their lives will take a complete change of course on that night. Roderick again tells Dupin that every piece of this story is important. We flash back to the funeral. Roderick sees the faceless woman in the back, but then the next time he looks back, he sees the mangled corpses of his six children. When he exits the church, he sees a creepy court jester, like a malevolent joker from the playing card, briefly waiting for him in the car. He starts, notices his nose is bleeding, and then suddenly falls backward. Madeline and Pym rush to him, but arthur stares ahead to *gasp* a raven, and he says "It's time. It's time. It's time." How mysterious.

The episode ends and I finally look ahead to all the episode names like I should have done before. Each episode is based off of a different Poe story, and probably relates to the cause of death for each character. I haven't read some of them, but I feel like I will before I start each next episode. Or I will let myself be surprised. We shall see. Anyhow, I have spent all morning typing this. If you've read this far, I salute you. I'm tired, but also satisfied.

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"The last thing my mother did in this life was kill a powerful man. And we carried that secret with us and we loved her all the more."