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starlitmelanin · 4 months ago

Text

as it was | jude bellingham

pairing - jude x fem!reader

word count - 2k

warnings - none

summary - you still craved summer, but sometimes you meant summer, five years ago. before dortmund. before real madrid. when jude was just, well, jude.

you’re at your favourite ice cream shop, the one that’s been there since you were a kid. the bell above the door rings as you walk in, a sound that used to send a thrill down your spine because it meant ice cream on a hot day, shared with friends. now, it’s just a sound.

the teenage girl behind the counter looks bored. she barely glances up from her phone as you approach, but you don’t mind. you’re here for one thing, and you know exactly what it is. “one scoop of chocolate fudge brownie, please,” you say, handing over a few crumpled bills.

you sit at a corner table, the same one you used to sit at with jude. back then, you’d order two scoops each, and he’d always finish his first, grinning as he waited for you to catch up. you’d laugh and tell him he was going to get brain freeze, but he never did.

the ice cream arrives, and you take a bite. it’s good, but it doesn’t taste the same. maybe it’s you that’s changed. maybe it’s everything else.

you can’t help but think about those summers before everything shifted. back when jude was just jude, the boy who lived down the street, the boy who’d knock on your door with a football under his arm, asking if you wanted to play. you always did.

those days were simple. you’d spend hours at the park, kicking the ball around, making up silly challenges for each other. you remember the way the sun felt on your skin, the way your laughter echoed in the empty playgrounds, the way jude would look at you with that lopsided grin of his, like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

but things change. they always do.

you remember the day he told you he was leaving for dortmund. it was late summer, the air thick with humidity. you were sitting on the swings, the ones that creaked with every push. he was quiet, more serious than usual. you knew something was up, but you didn’t press him. jude would talk when he was ready.

“i got an offer,” he said finally, staring at the ground. “from dortmund.”

your heart sank, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “that’s amazing, jude. really.”

he looked up, and there was a sadness in his eyes that mirrored your own. “yeah, it is. but it means i’m leaving. in a few weeks.”

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “i know.”

the rest of the summer was a blur. you spent every moment you could with him, knowing that soon he’d be gone. you tried to make the most of it, but there was always that shadow hanging over you, the knowledge that things were about to change.

when he left, it felt like a part of you went with him. you kept in touch, of course. texts, calls, the occasional visit. but it wasn’t the same. he was in a different world now, a world of professional football, of fame and fortune. and you were still here, in the same small town, living the same small life.

then came real madrid. another move, another layer of distance. you were happy for him, you really were. but it was hard not to feel left behind.

you look at the ice cream melting in your bowl and sigh. it’s not just the ice cream that doesn’t taste the same. it’s everything. the summers, the laughter, the feeling of being young and carefree. you miss it all. you miss him.

you get up and leave the shop, the bell ringing behind you. outside, the sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the streets. you start walking, not really knowing where you’re going, just needing to move.

you end up at the park, the one where you and jude spent so many afternoons. it’s quieter now, the playground empty. you sit on one of the swings and close your eyes, letting the memories wash over you.

you can almost hear his voice, his laugh. you can almost see him, running ahead of you, calling out for you to catch up. you smile, even as tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

you know you can’t go back. you know things will never be the same. but for a moment, just a moment, you let yourself remember. you let yourself feel the warmth of those summer days, the joy of those simple moments.

you let yourself miss him.

and then, you get up, wipe your eyes, and start walking home. the past is a beautiful place, but it’s not where you live. you have your own life, your own dreams. and while they might not be as grand as jude’s, they’re yours.

as you walk, you think about the future. maybe you’ll visit madrid someday. maybe you’ll see jude again, and things will be different, but still good. you don’t know. but you do know that you’ll always have those summers, those memories. and that’s enough.

you turn the corner and see your house up ahead, the porch light on, welcoming you home. you smile, feeling a little lighter.

you might not crave chocolate fudge brownie ice cream the way you used to, but that’s okay. you’ll find new things to love, new moments to cherish.

and who knows? maybe one day, you’ll find something that tastes even better.

—

you push open the front door and step into the familiar comfort of your home. it smells like dinner, something savoury and warm. you kick off your shoes and pad into the kitchen, where your mom is stirring a pot on the stove.

“hey, sweetheart,” she says, glancing up with a smile. “how was your day?”

“it was good,” you lie, smiling back. it’s easier than explaining the tangled mess of emotions that today dredged up. “what’s for dinner?”

“spaghetti. your favourite.”

you nod, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. it’s another thing that doesn’t quite taste the same anymore, but you appreciate the effort. your mom always knows how to make you feel better, even if she doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong.

you eat dinner together, making small talk about work, friends, the usual. it’s nice, comforting. it’s normal, and you cling to that.

later, you’re in your room, scrolling through social media. you’ve been avoiding it lately, knowing that every other post is about jude’s latest match, his latest accomplishment. you’re proud of him, you really are, but sometimes it’s just too much.

you scroll past a photo of him, grinning broadly, holding up a trophy. you pause, your finger hovering over the like button. you hesitate, then double-tap, watching the heart fill in. he deserves your support, even from afar.

a notification pops up on your screen hours later, a little after midnight: a message from jude. your heart instantly skips a beat. it’s been a while since you last talked, and seeing his name brings a rush of memories, a mix of joy and sadness.

you open the message.

“how’ve you been? miss you.”

simple words, but they mean everything. you type back minutes later, fingers hesitantly sliding over the screen.

“been good. miss you too.”

his reply comes quickly.

“going to be in town next week. would love to catch up. if you’re free...”

your heart races. it’s been too long since you’ve seen him in person. you don’t know what to feel – excitement, anxiety, a little bit of both.

“i’d love that,” you type back, trying to keep your tone casual, and his reply comes shortly after.

“great. can’t wait to see you.”

you smile at the screen. it’s small, but it’s a genuine smile this time. you feel a flutter of hope, a spark of something you haven’t felt in a long time. maybe this is what you need, a chance to reconnect, to see if things can still be good between you and jude, even if they’re different.

the next few days pass in a blur. you find yourself thinking about him more. you’re nervous, but also excited. you wonder what he’ll be like now, how much he’s changed, how much you’ve changed.

finally, the day arrives. you’ve arranged to meet at the park, the one where you spent so many summers together. it feels fitting, a way to bridge the past and the present.

you arrive early, your heart pounding in your chest. you sit on the swings, just like you used to, and wait. the minutes stretch on, each one feeling like an eternity.

then, you see him. he’s walking towards you, and for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed. he’s still the same jude, with that easy smile, that confident stride. but as he gets closer, you notice the differences – he’s taller, more muscular, his face a little more mature. but his eyes are the same, warm and familiar.

“hey, y/n,” he says, stopping in front of you.

“hey, jude,” you reply, standing up. you feel awkward, unsure of what to do. but then he pulls you into a hug, and it’s like everything falls into place.

“it’s so good to see you,” he says, his voice muffled against your hair.

“you too,” you whisper, hugging him back tightly.

you pull away, and for a moment, you just look at each other, taking it all in. then he grins, that pretty grin that you’ve missed so much.

“so… wanna play some football?” he asks, holding up a ball.

you laugh, feeling a rush of nostalgia. “you know i do.”

you spend the afternoon like you used to, kicking the ball around, making up silly challenges. it feels good, like slipping into an old, comfortable pair of shoes. you talk and laugh, and for a while, it’s like no time has passed at all.

but eventually, the conversation turns serious. you’re sitting on the grass, catching your breath, when jude looks at you, his expression thoughtful.

“i’ve missed this,” he says quietly.

you look at him, feeling a lump form in your throat. “i’ve missed it too. more than you know.”

he nods, looking down at the ground. “it’s been hard, being away. i’ve thought about you a lot.”

“me too,” you admit. “i’m really proud of you, jude. but it’s been tough, watching you from afar, feeling like i’m not a part of your life anymore.”

he reaches out, taking your hand. “you’re always a part of my life, y/n. no matter where i am, no matter what i’m doing. you’re important to me. i don’t want to lose that.”

you squeeze his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you. “i don’t want to lose that either.”

you sit in silence for a while, just holding hands, letting the moment sink in. you don’t know what the future holds, but for now, you’re here, together. and that’s enough.

as the sun sets, casting a golden glow over the park, you feel a sense of peace. things might never be exactly the same, but that’s okay. you and jude, you’ll figure it out. you’ll find a new normal, a new way to be together, even if it’s different.

you stand up, pulling jude to his feet. “come on,” you say, smiling. “let’s go get some ice cream.”

he grins, and for a moment, he’s just jude again, the boy you’ve known your whole life. “chocolate fudge brownie?”

and as he throws his arm around your shoulders, you laugh quietly, feeling like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

“yeah,” you nod, your arms circling around his torso. “chocolate fudge brownie.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham angst

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samkerrworshipper · 8 months ago

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close your eyes

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader, arsenal x reader

part 1 of beautiful girl series-> pt.2 -> pt.3

warnings: drug abuse, drug addiction, mentions of sexual assault, sexual assault, jordan and leah r broken up, basically a trauma dump, unedited, if you are not in an okay headspace this fic is not for u, based on beautiful boy

You find it hard to remember the last time you felt loved.

Not the kind of love that people tell you everyday, no, real unconditional, meaningful, purposeful love. The kind of love where a person looks at you like you single handedly hung the stars and the moon, the kind of love where it feels like nobody could love you in the same way, the same love that shakespeare wrote poems about, the same love that you know that you could never be capable of receiving.

You don’t really blame anybody but yourself, how could people love you, how could people want to love you? You weren’t a loveable person, in your opinion you were quite frankly the exact opposite.

Maybe when you were eight, when you were cute and loveable, when you had cute little piggy tails and wore pink overalls and only wanted to dance and talk about unicorns.

Maybe when you were ten and you spent every afternoon practising football in the backyard with your moms.

Maybe when you were twelve and your only aspirations for life were to win your school spelling bee and captain england just like your mom.

From then on, it all seemed like one big blur.

From 12 onwards you don’t think a lot of you was lovable, hell you hardly thought eight year old you was lovable, a tiny little orphan who had seen so much of the world and yet none of it, yet your moms had spent every single day trying to make you feel like you were and it had worked. For possibly the first time in your life, you’d felt that love, like a whole galaxy revolved around you, like no matter what happened in your life, you could face it.

It was funny how fast that feeling could fade.

It wasn’t really that surprising that you’d seeked out something to fill the hole inside of you, or at least that’s how you saw it.

It started at 14, when you were so consumed with all of the pain around you, the shit storm of broken relationships and the broken home that now replicated the same one you’d come from. Babies learnt to self soothe by being left to cry, teenagers learnt to self soothe through pain.

First it was spending as much time as possible out on the pitch with your moms, every single one of your afternoons spent practising, and any minute you weren’t on the pitch it was non stop studying.

You formed a anger for it, a pure hatred for the sport that your moms were so fond of, a sport that had brought them together and inevitably forced them apart.

At 15 you left football behind, you focused on your school, spending every spare minute on your studies, they headaches and migraines, the stress, the anxiety, it was all good, it proved that you were trying, it filled the hole inside of you.

When you were 15, you stopped caring. Your mama stopped caring, she moved 3 hours away for her own career, she didn’t have time to care about your school work, as for your mom, it wasn’t an easy job captaining the lionesses to a european championship, she had bigger problems then you.

When you turned 16, everything changed. Your mom tore her acl, Lia moved in, there wasn’t any room for you, let alone room for you to be loved. Your mama stopped visiting as often, only when it was necessary, for the first time in a while, you felt alone, truly alone.

When you turned 17, you found other ways to self soothe. Babies cried for attention, out of hope that they’d find some of that love that they were missing when they were alone. Babies cried because they had no other way of conveying the loneliness and desperate need they had for whatever they were seeking. Teenagers do stupid things in search of the same thing, love, attention and in search of something. Teenagers are stupid by default, you weren’t unbeknownst to that, the eight year old version of you though would have swore six ways to sunday that you’d never behave in the way you were, out of fear that you’d end up back where you’d come from, that you’d lose the only family that had ever showed you a glimpse of love, teenage you figured there wasn’t any more love for you, it had all been swallowed up by younger you, taken before you could really understand the magnitude of that love, before you needed it the very most.

Maybe it was the pot speaking, or the nicotine from your vape, or it was just the overwhelming cloud that always seemed to hit when you were high. It would fade eventually, it always did, all the deep emotional shit that made you want to cry would go, and you’d be left mellowed out, all of your feeling sucked out like a deep exhale, sometimes it just happened to be that you had to feel it all before you felt nothing, before the overwhelming numbness hit you and the hole in your heart was filled once again.

You flinched at the knock on your bedroom door, you were grateful enough for the warning, it had taken a lot of convincing to your mom and her best friend before they’d finally agreed to it.

You didn’t bother trying to hide your vape, the joint you had been smoking had been put out a couple of minutes ago.

“Come in.”

You stayed sat on the ledge of your window, your head hanging halfway out, the cool london winter breeze making your lips numb and your face pink.

The door opened slowly and you kept your eyes on the outside street, watching the cars drive past underneath you.

“Hey, dinners ready if you want to come down.”

You nodded absentmindedly, avoiding Lia’s eyeline.

“It’s freezing, close your window.”

You looked over at the swiss woman, a woman who was now so familiar in your home that you saw her more than the woman you called your mama.

“I’m good.”

You took a deep breath, one last inhale of the chilly air before turning to face Lia and uncurling your body, standing up and walking towards the door where she was standing.

“If you want to live in Antarctica then that’s your call.”

You try your best to suppress the eye roll, instead opting to pull your vape from your pocket and take a deep inhale, it’s not as good as the cold air but it’s something. It also helps to cover the weed scent that you’re trying to cover up.

Lia walks behind you, shaking her head at the puff of vapour that hits her right in the face as you make your way down the stairs and into the living room and then into the dining room.

Your mom is sitting at the table, fiddling with the cutlery and looking down at the meal that you know she most definitely did not cook.

It was one of the only bonuses of having Lia around, when jordan left the healthy and yummy food had turned into mostly take away and food that wasn’t cooked on a stove top because Leah had learnt her lesson after the multiple calls to the fire department.

You sat down in your normal chair, taking another hit of the vape in your hand before setting it down on the table and replacing it with a fork.

“I thought we’d talked about no vapes at the dinner table, bubba.”

You focused down at the bowl of spaghetti that was in front of you, it was the night before a game, which meant carb loading, you’d never been fond of pasta, although you supposed that had slipped Leah’s mind in the last couple of months.

“I’m not using it at the table, am I?”

You could feel the look of disapproval from your mother from the other side of the table.

You pushed your fork into the pasta, searching for a meatball instead of the pasta that you were desperate to avoid.

“Bubba I think you can put it away for half an hour every night, please.”

You pull your spare hand out of your hoodie, grabbing at the vape and slipping it into the pocket.

You focus on stabbing the meatball that your focus has locked onto, keeping your eyes downcast and focused on locating all of the saucy balls and shoving them into your mouth as quickly as possible.

Just as you’ve located and eaten all of the orbs that you can guarantee Lia made all by herself, your mom directs conversation at you once again, pivoting from whatever she was talking to Lia about,

“We’re playing in Manchester tomorrow night, you’re welcome to come with us on the bus if you want, or you could go with mumma, I think she’s planning to drive up to watch the girls. The girls haven’t seen you in a while though, Lotte has been missing you, she’s been asking me about you.”

You’d distanced yourself from your moms club teammates for a multitude of reasons, but it all stemmed down to the hatred that you had for arsenal, the love that your mom had for the club, the club that took all of her time, her teammates that saw more love then you felt you did.

“I think I'll just stay home for the weekend, mama is going to be in town anyways. Plus Maya and I were planning to do something tomorrow night.”

She was going to be in town, it didn’t mean you had plans to see her.

“Maya? Do I know a Maya?”

You tried your best not to be annoyed at your moms sudden concern about your social life.

“She’s just a friend.”

You could practically feel the eyebrow raise from the other side of the table.

“What were you and Maya planning on doing tomorrow night?”

You looked up for the first time, gritting your teeth.

“I don’t know, hang out, have some fun, nothing special. I want to see mama and I want to hang out with friends, is that not enough for me to stay home for the weekend,? It'll only be a night.”

You watched your mom collapse in, her eyes straying to the side to look at Lia.

“So it’s friends now, plural? I talked to Jord yesterday, she didn’t say that you had anything planned with her for this weekend.”

You wanted to bolt upstairs back to your room, light a joint and stick your head back out of your window and enjoy the serenity that came from it, but you held strong.

“Yes, friends, I have more than one, we’ll probably just hangout at someones house, no biggie. I haven’t talked to mama yet because I didn’t know what I was doing this weekend.”

Your moms eyebrow only raised further up her forehead, the line of hair practically melting into her hairline.

“I was a teenager once, you think I don’t know what a hangout turns into?”

You were about to rebut, answer with some snappy answer that probably would have gotten you in more trouble than you would have wanted, but you were silenced by the swiss woman sitting to your left.

“She’ll be fine Le, she’s smart, she’ll leave her location on, she won’t do anything you wouldn’t. Right?”

You nodded cautiously, a little bit shocked by the swiss woman’s attempt to help you out.

“Yes, I’ll leave my location on and I’ll meet up with mama the next morning, I’ll be responsible, I always am.”

You were grasping for anything, any reason to make your mother agree.

“Fine, but you do anything stupid, and I mean anything, then you’ll be in big trouble missy, and I want you to eat some more of that dinner, Lia puts a lot of work into feeding us.”

You swallowed the argument about your hatred for pasta, in favour of nodding your head meekly and twirling some of the noddles with your fork, forcing them into your mouth even if it made you cringe internally, it was a hard meal to swallow, but you did it for the sake of making your mother happy, something that you seemed to constantly be doing.

Once you’d eaten half of the pasta you called it quits, walking up towards the kitchen sink and cleaning out your bowl before placing it into the dishwasher and sacking it properly before closing it up.

You grasped for the vape hidden in your pocket, depserate for something to take the edge off from the conversation you’d had, the flavoured air providing a temporary comfort.

You dragged your feet back up the stairs to your bedroom, locking the door behind you and turning off the lights in your room.

Your room was cold, but you didn’t find yourself minding it.

You checked your lock for a second time, making sure it was definitely clicked shut before sliding underneath your bed frame and reaching around aimlessly for the container that was wedged into a corner of your mattress.

It didn’t take long for you to find it, your hand connecting with the rough plastic and pulled at it almost immediately.

You opened the container, forcing the lid open and picking out the bag that you were searching for.

Walking across the room in search of a card and flat surface was a mission that didn’t take long, both necessary factors found at your desk.

You opened up the bag, the answer to all of your feeling and struggles.

You shook a bit of the powder out of the bag, it was a routine that you’d adapted.

You’d always had routines, at eight it had been your nighttime routine. Bath, pyjamas, toilet, bed time story, cuddles, trying to get to sleep in your own bed, inevitably sneaking into your moms bed. At 12 it had been your pre match routine, wearing your moms first arsenal jersey to bed the night beforehand, a banana and bottle of water before the game, socks, shinpads, boots and a bottle of lucozade. At 14 it was your pre test routine, cue cards with one of your parents the night beforehand, a 12 hour sleep, a good luck hug from one of your moms and using your lucky pen. At 17 it was the little kit you kept underneath your bed, open it, find the baggy, spill enough of it onto your desk, push it into a line, take a deep breath through your nose.

It was a routine that kept you going, one that you clung to like the oxygen you breathed in.

When your mom tore her acl, your life changed permanently, no longer was any focus on you, it shouldn’t have really been a surprise that you’d fallen into a rougher crowd, that you’d turned to something else to help soothe the pain that had been coursing through your blood stream as everything changed around you.

It had started with pocketing a couple of your moms post surgery meds, oxy’s, they felt good, they felt so much better than anything else you’d tried to help fix you. But they were in limited amounts and it was hard to steal pills when Lia was monitoring everything that your mom did and took. You’d made friends with the girls in the form above you, and then their friends who were older, and eventually you’d found yourself out at parties on nights when you told your mom that you were spending the night with your mama in Birmingham, it had been eays enough, she was too focused on her knee to pay much mind to what you were doing and who you were doing it with.

There was enough money lying around the house, it wasn’t hard to find and subsequently it wasn’t hard to find somebody who was willing to give you more than you could find at the parties you where going to.

It had felt good, like for the first time in a while you had people who you could relate to, who were dealing with the same problems as you, you felt like you’d found a somewhere that felt more like a home than anywhere you’d been before.

The vapes had been a way to disguise it, to make your mom feel like she could control the bad things that you were getting up to, if she monitored your vape usage then why would you search for anything else?

Self-soothing.

You finished your routine by pushing the baggy back into its box and securing the box back into the spot it had come from, making sure that it was hidden from sight, before climbing into your bed and waiting for the proper high to hit you.

Weed and nicotine were good, it had been where you started out, but nothing hit better than a real high, a real proper feeling that made you feel inundated with complete numbness in the best way possible. It made everything quiet, every doubt and pain in your soul quietened down and it made you feel at peace.

You supposed it was what made drugs so addictive, specifically meth. They made a person in pain feel normal, it made an angry person feel calm, it made a sad person happier than ever, it made a person searching for everything yearn for nothing. It fixed every problem known to man and every problem man knew.

When the high hit you felt it across your whole body, your thoughts, pain and the loudness inside of you faded, everything faded, all you felt like was a body, devoid of everything besides the body you were inside of. To you, it was the best feeling in the world, it was a feeling you’d been searching for since you were a kid, when you’d felt so alone and unloved that you would have sold all of your internal organs if it meant that you could have felt the same amount of nothingness that you were in this very moment.

You would lie awake for hours riding it out, staring up at the ceiling of your room, studying the different ridges and bumps across the white plaster. Once upon a time it had been blue, with white clouds all over it, little stars and rainbows across it, when Jordan had moved out you’d forced your mom to cover it up, it was just another reminder of the love that you’d once found in your house miraculously fading away.

It normally took a few hours for the initial high to fade, for the endorphins and adrenaline pinging around in your bloodstream to calm down for you to be able to drift off to sleep, you didn’t really mind, you were used to it. Once upon a time it was the same feeling you’d gotten when your moms would smile at you, or when you would step off a football pitch after 90 minutes, or when you’d get a good score from one of your exams. Once upon a time it had all been organic, it had been natural, now it was all forced, a chemical reaction that your brain craved.

Somewhere around 4am you drifted off, it was convenient because it meant you’d be dead asleep when your mom and Lia left for the training ground, saving you from the interaction with the two of them.

You awoke around 12 o’clock, you dragged yourself downstairs and into the kitchen, enjoying the emptiness that surrounded you. At your mama's house there was Blu, and for some reason it always felt more crammed. At your mom’s house everything was open, quiet, tucked away. It was the way you liked it, plus she was gone more often with media commitments and Arsenal playing in the Champions League, so it meant you were home alone most of the time.

You chugged your coffee like it was your first drink in days, groaning when your mom’s contact started buzzing up in front of you.

“Mom?”

You tried your best to sound awake, you don’t think your efforts were very successful.

“Hey bubba, how’d you sleep?”

You didn’t really think your mom actually cared about how you’d slept, more like it was a conversation buffer.

“Fine.”

You could hear the sound of your mom’s teammates in the background, a couple of months ago you probably would have been there with her, nowadays there was nothing you wanted less.

“Good. Look, I talked to Jord this morning, she’s going to come and hang out with you tomorrow until we get back, she should be around in the morning.”

The same anxiety that always seeped through your mom’s voice when she talked about her ex was easy to detect, like she was nervous to utter her name or mention her.

“Cool.”

You wondered why she hadn’t just left it up to you to organise something with your mama, but you supposed you hadn’t been great at that recently. Jordan’s number was something you had a aversion to.

“Which means I want you home before 1am, and I want you to be sensible tonight, your mama is very excited to see you tomorrow and I don’t want you being a dickhead or being dead to the world, You’ll be polite and spend time with her, understood?”

She made it sound like an assignment, like you had to be on your very best behaviour, like you had to put on a show for Jordan.

“Whatever.”

You heard a huff of annoyance from the other side of the phone, it was a sound you’d gotten used to, Leah used it frequently.

“Don’t whatever me, bubba please, Jords is really looking forward to it, she’s been feeling a bit left out by you recently so please for me, just try your hardest to be good for her. Be safe tonight, I know you and your friends like to have some fun but just stay safe, if you need anything don’t hesitate to send me a text or a call, I love you bubba.”

It felt empty, like your heart, like everything around you, like something she had to say.

“I love you too mom.”

The call fizzled out and you let a deep breath that you’d been holding in go, you did love your mom, it just didn’t feel like she loved you anymore.

You went about your day in a haze, your friends were due to come to yours before the party around 5 o’clock, so you had some time to yourself before then, time you were undoubtedly planning to do not a lot with. You tried watching tv, tried organising and cleaning your room, none of it took off the edge, none of it made the world silent like you needed.

It had all started with parties, a way for you to get out of your comfort zone, a way to make parties a little bit more enjoyable. Now you craved them to make your life more enjoyable, to make it all a little bit more bearable.

It was all one big routine.

For a while you throught it was getting better, everything was solving itself. You’d lie awake in your bed at 3am, riding out the last bits of your high and you’d realise that it wasn’t, that there was no solution to solve what had gone wrong with you and made you so fucking unlovebale.

You knew your existence wasn’t eays, hell Jordan and Leah had adopted you when you were at rock bottom, and they’d still found a way to love you, to make you loveable, but you figured somewhere along the way they’d run out of things about you that were loveable.

You weren’t normally someone who got high during the day, but you were home alone and figured why not, you’d been taking them at night for months now, what would a day time fix change? Everything felt better when you were riding on a high.

You spent the rest of your afternoon sat on your window sill, counting the cars as they drove past. When your friends came around at 5 o’clock you were ecstatic, hurrying down the stairs as fast as your woozy body would allow you.

You had friends that your moms met and friends your moms didn’t, these were the ones you were yet to introduce to Leah.

You didn’t think that she would approve of the friends that you hung out with when she wasn’t around, especially considering they were quite a bit older than you.

There were benefits to it, they bought you alcohol they could drive you around, they were smarter then the kids your age.

Maya, Olivia and Scarlett were nice enough, a little bit stupid but it didn’t bother you too much, you were all like minded, you liked to have fun and party, with the assistance of some recreational substances.

None of them batted an eye at your clear intoxication, pushing a bottle of something or another into your hands before walking with you up to your room to start getting ready.

The drink burned as it made it’s way down your throat, it was therapeutic, a reminder that while you felt disconnected from your body because of the drugs, you were still present.

You let one of the girls do your makeup, packing your face until you looked well over the age of 17, then allowing one of them to sort through your monstrosity of a closet until they found a cute corset top and skirt. Leah Williamson was a lot of things, a fashionista being one of them and that had always carried through to your wardrobe. You were more than equipped with clothing for every occasion known to man.

By the time you’d downed your first drink of the night the euphoria was starting to hit and you were starting to feel good.

By the time your second drink had been downed you were being thrown into a car and were on your way to the party, sharing a joint with Liv who was sat in the back seat with you, the two of you occasionally shotgunning the smoke or blowing a puff at eachother.

It was good, it was relaxing, it was what made you feel at peace.

Pulling up to the party was a whole different kind of feeling.

You didn’t know who’s party you were at, who’s house, where it was, it didn’t matter to you, not really, all you cared about was having a good time by your standards.

You flicked your phone onto silent, desperate to avoid any contact from anyone, instead focused on the spectacle around you as you stepped into the threshold.

Maya introduced you to someone she went to school with, a man that looked like he was nearly as far gone as you felt. You smiled at him, giving him a hug and nod, trying to rush the introduction so you could get a drink in your hand and take a seat.

“You’re quite cute aren’t ya, how old are you sweetheart?”

You looked across at your friend, curious as to whether you should lie or not, she nodded her head and you took it as approval.

“17.”

His smile only grew, his head cocking to the side.

“A youngin? I’m sure we’ll have some fun tonight, the young ones always know how to go harder, whaddya like, sweetheart?”

You tried your best not to appear uncomfortable, even if his attention was putting you off a little bit.

“She’ll take whatever, although she has been having some fun with ice recently, she likes her vape and some molly sprinkled in with it.”

Matt slapped you on the back, his smile only growing.

“Definitely a fun time then, I’ll catch up with you later sweetheart, I reckon I have something you might like, head on in guys, I’ll catch you later.”

It wasn’t a big house, it wasn’t small either though, it was full enough that it probably seemed smaller than it truly was.

There were people everywhere, which surprised you considering it was only early, not that you minded, it was more convenient anyways.

You were dragged to a couch with your friends, they were less far gone than you and almost immediately were sniffing up lines of whatever was on the coffee table in front of you.

There was so much happening around you that you struggled to understand it all fully, there were puffs of smoke coming from every direction, needles being handed around, different pills being popped, lines being sniffed. It was the kind of environment you liked to think you’d come to flourish in, it made you feel more relaxed then anywhere else on the planet.

You relaxed into the couch, enjoying the spectacle around you and subconsciously taking hits of your vape as you watched the splendour occur around you.

There wasn’t a single legal thing about it, but you didn’t care, there was a cold drink in your hand and the scent of pot and vapour surrounding you, it was the best place to be on the planet.

The night slowly started to fade into a blip as you made your way through more drinks, your body surrendering to the feeling of the alcohol coursing through you and the high slowly starting to fade. You were cautious of the fact that you needed to be home at a certain time, you didn’t want to push your mom’s wishes, you were also aware that you could manage another shoot up before getting yourself home.

“Oi, where can I find some meth.”

Maya had headed somewhere with some boy she knew from highschool and Olivia had left in search of a spot to smoke, leaving you and Scarlett.

“Go find Matt, he’ll hook you up.”

With legs like jelly and a swaying head you stood up from the couch, your vape clutched in one hand and empty bottle in the other. It didn’t take a lot of searching to find the man you’d been introduced to earlier, he was sat on a couch, a girl on either side of him, who both looked about as far gone as they could get without being passed out.

“Pretty girl, what can I do for you.”

You didn’t like the way the term of endearment slid off of his tongue so easily, in almost a condescending way.

“Do you have meth?”

You didn’t care if you were being too straight forward, you were itching for something to get you back 0onto the high that you’d been riding out for the past couple of hours.

“I do, but it’ll cost ya.”

You rolled your eyes, money was hardly a problem for you.

“I’ve got money.”

His head cocked the same way it had earlier.

“I don’t want your money sweetheart, c’mon, I’ll get you some meth.”

The same slippery term of endearment that made your throat hurt. He shook the two girls off of him, standing up with a lot more composure than you and beginning to walk out of the lounge room you were in and towards the staircase. You followed him up, holding onto the banister with everything you had and trying to keep up with him as the both of you arrived at the top and he began walking down a corridor, until he made it to the end and opened up a door.

You assumed it was his bedroom by the looks of it, which made you uncomfortable slightly but you accepted the fact you were craving a fix and he was potentially the only person who could supply it in this moment.

He rummaged through a bedside draw, until he pulled out a syringe and a bottle of what you assumed to be dissolved crystal meth. You’d always kept your distance from needles, it gave you a better high but it was harder to hide and harder to deal with, the powdered form was the least complicated.

You could feel your heartbeat pick up as he beckoned you over, patting for you to sit down on the edge of the bed. You walked over, taking a seat on the bed and watching with curiosity as he prepared the needle, and took your arm in his, securing a rubber tourniquet around your bicep and feeling your skin for a vein. Once he found it he picked the needle up, filling it with a couple of mls of the liquid before bringing it up to your arm, gently inserting it into the vein, sucking in a bit of your blod and watching the red swirl with the drug mix before pushing down on the syringe and inserting it into your blood stream.

It was immediate validation, your head dropping back with ecstasy as the drugs infiltrated your body.

“Feels good doesn’t it, sweetheart.”

You nodded your head, enjoying the sensation of the lingering sting as the needle was pulled from your arm and the tourniquet was untied.

His hands were on your chin, tilting your head up so you were looking at him.

“Now, I think it’s time I get my payment, hmm?”

You took one last breath, enjoying the validation of your high.

“I told you I have money.”

He shook his head and with the smirk on the corner of his lips you couldn’t help but feel slightly worried.

“No, I prefer my payment other ways.”

Even with the alcohol and drugs running through your veins, you couldn’t help but feel sick to your stomach immediately.

You were suddenly frighteningly aware of your position, and undeniably feeling a little bit scared.

“What way?”

You didn’t like how your voice wavered, your age becoming more obvious as you struggled to stomach the different thoughts going through your head.

“I’ll show you.”

His hands moved to your hair, dragging you off the corner of the mattress and onto your knees below him.

You tried to dissasociate it, tried to dissasociate as his hands fell to his belt buckle and fly, tried to disassociate so you didn’t have to think about the million no’s that were banging against your skull and leaving your lips as his fly came undone and he let his pants drop to his feet.

You’d never really expressed your sexuality, you hadn’;t felt the need t, both of your moms were gay, so were most of their friends, you knew no matter who you were dating they’d be happy for you, you knew that whatever this was though you didn’t want it.

With your weary head and drugged up body there wasn’t much fight you could put up as he opened your jaw for you and forced his way inside of you

You tried your hardest to dissasociate like you’d taught yourself, thinking about the high, thinking about the drugs, thinking about your moms, thinking about everything in your life that had once loved you and you’d once loved the same. Normally it worked, normally you trustd yourself to get you to that safe space that made you feel like no matter what was happening you could deal with it, you just couldn’t get it to work though, there were tears streaming down your face as his hands stayed planted in the roots of your hair, the hair a couple of hours ago that your friends had been curling and working on whilst you’d all be laughing.

He didn’t last long, that was something you were grateful for.

As soon as his hands left your hair you were bolting up from the floor, walking as past as your weary legs would let you before anything else happened that you couldn’t stop.

You catapulted your way down the same stairs you’d marched up happily, not paying any attention to the people in the background as you pushed your way out of the front door, breathing in the freezing london air and clinging to the freshness of it and how it cooled the pain in your throat.

You didn’t hesitate calling the uber, the tears on your face spraying down onto your phone screen as you tried your hardest to focus on the task at hand which was getting home and getting as far away from this as possible.

You didn’t care that your mom could track your uber account, you didn’t care that there were thirty unread texts from both of your moms and a couple of phone calls, all you cared about was getting home to your bed and doing whatever it took to forget about what just happened.

The uber was quick enough, you practically threw yourself into the back seat, trying to calm yourself down, but failing miserably.

If your uber driver noticed then he didn’t comment on the fact that you were practically hyperventilating in his backseat.

The car ride home was quicker then you thought it would be, you were so grateful it was an away game night, that you didn’t have to deal with anyone, but you were also secretly crumbling about the fact that you were all alone, that you had been all alone in that room with him, that you had no one to stop him and couldn’t do anything about it.

You were hardly steady on your legs as you unlocked the door with your keys and swayed your way into the living room and then towards the stairs, finding the incline slightly jarring but desperate to get to your room and bed so you could sleep of the horrendous feeling in your gut. High be damned, alcohol be damned, all you wanted was to be asleep, so you partially forget about all of this and hopefully it would fall victim to all of the endorphins in your head and be permanently removed from your brain.

Your room was cold, your window still open, you didn’t care.

All you cared was getting out of the too tight clothes you were in and getting into your bed.

You pulled at the corset, unbothered when you heard the seam ripping as you tugged at it, your skirt was easier. You flung a hoodie and pair of pyjama pants onto your body before climbing straight under your covers, your body shaking. You weren’t sure whether it was because of the high or because of the incessant hatred that had grown in your chest at the memory replaying over and over in your mind.

You clutched onto your vape, holding it in your hand and sucking up hit after hit as you tried to find solace in the flavoured air, hoping it would send you off to sleep.

You woke up with a headache like no other, your whole body hurt, and to the sound of repetitive banging at the front door downstairs.

You groaned out, annoyed at every single part of you for what had happened last night.

Your legs were still wobbly as you clawed your way out of your bed, your legs protesting with every single step you took, out of your room, down the stairs, to the peephole at your door.

Jordan, fuck.

You supposed in your haze it hadn’t been hard to forget about your mother’s appearance for today, you’d been trying desperately to forget so many other things that it must have slipped your mind.

You didn’t want to open the door, but you also knew you had to, so with every last piece of strength that you had in your body, you pulled the door open.

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs #jordan nobbs x reader #trauma #pain #sammykworshipperfics #wobbs breakup #drug addiction #im sad so are u #im not the only one crying #sue me for hurting ur feelings #sick and twisted

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icallhimjoey · 2 months ago

Note

Not sure if you've done this but it fits the general mood of the fandom lately: I want grovel-y Joe. Knows he really fucked up but he's a guy so he doesn't know how to fix it so he just throws anything at the wall to see what sticks. And honestly we're not sure if we'll forgive him but we're definitely sticking around to see how far he's willing to go.

(yes I am in therapy 🤣)

okay im using this request to fix whatever that bullshit was that i wrote before this - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 3.8K

---

I'll Let The Sun Decide

Joe realises it in the morning. Feels like the biggest fucking idiot in the world.

Correction: the biggest fucking idiot on the moon.

He watches you walk out of his bedroom after leaving a perfect cup of coffee, exactly how he likes it, on his bedside table and everything about that makes his heart ache.

After the way he behaved last night, he knows he doesn't deserve a sweet gesture from the girl who looks like she only managed to sleep for about two hours.

You look exhausted.

He only catches a glimpse of you, and a few seconds later he can hear the coffee machine go again. You're making a coffee for yourself after making him one, and Joe can't help but groan his face into his pillow.

Fuck.

He didn't reach out for you in the night.

Your one fucking rule.

He vaguely remembers going, "Hmm?" after he raised his head off his pillow in a jolt.

"Just me." You'd whispered, nothing malicious hidden in your voice, because it was after midnight and it wasn't the time to continue whatever you'd started earlier that evening.

He should've reached over then.

He hadn't. Not even a knee to your thigh, or a toe to your foot.

Nothing.

He should've been happy you'd come back to his flat instead of going to your own. You could've so easily decided to avoid him for a bit, but you didn't. You said you'd come back, and then you did, and, fuck.

He hadn't reached out.

He hadn't even read the texts you'd sent. Left you with a bunch of grey ticks.

Well.

He had read them, but only in the notification bar.

He'd seen the messages about you making it to the office safely. Of how Charlotte was there too - you'd do the work together and you'd be done much faster that way. A little later of how you'd just be another hour, and of how you'd let him know when you'd leave.

He wanted you to feel bad about choosing your work over him, so he withheld the coloured ticks and had felt real fucking smug over it. It was sickening how right he'd felt about his actions in the moment. Every petty little thing justified, just because you'd hurt his feelings.

You'd climbed into bed after he had already fallen asleep, and the feeling of movement next to him pulled him from his slumber. And then, instead of reaching over like he should have done, he had sighed all heavily, like he was really fucking annoyed that you'd woken him up as you got comfortable under his covers. He'd rolled over and ignored you. Turned his back and festered in his own anger like a moody teenager because he truly believed you deserved it.

What a fucking loser.

Didn't touch you all night.

The realisation slaps him in the face unexpectedly, and your early-morning kind gesture is what flips the entire script. What a fucking loser of a boyfriend.

You've made the deadline.

Joe sees it when he opens his messages after taking a perfect sip of hot coffee, and it's weird how he feels awful about himself and proud of you at the same time.

He didn't need to let the world burn over such a tiny inconvenience.

Joe hates the moon.

Longs for the sun.

The moon is cold and dark and he's all alone up there, only warmed by the light the sun will bring him.

The sun. Or, the messy-haired girl with tired eyes in soft clothes too big for her body who brought him a hot cup of coffee before she even made one for herself. Either or. Same thing.

Joe stares at your messages in silence, gives you the coloured ticks he should've given you last night, and feels heavy guilt find home in the pit of his stomach.

You finished all the work in time. Probably have done a real good job at it too. Did it at the office, away from Joe's bad temper, and managed to actually focus and forget about how he told you to fuck off when you were already on your way out anyway.

What a dick-move.

Fragile ego syndrome, you'd guessed then.

That dick-move is what had you second-guessing going back over to Joe's for a while. Maybe going back to your own flat was the smarter idea. Avoid the confrontation and just text him the next day, after he'd cooled off a bit.

Maybe he'd actually read those then.

Another dick-move.

Joe could be so annoying sometimes, but it was easy to read him and you knew that just a little consideration of your time would fix whatever this silly issue was. With that in mind, you'd made your way back over to his.

You knew his dick-moves only meant he was going to feel bad about himself come tomorrow morning.

And you were right.

Besides an annoyed sigh and a soft grumble, you didn't get much else from him when you got into bed.

That was fine.

Again, you didn't think it was the right time to continue a fight anyway.

But the morning brought something new.

You woke up before Joe did and it took a few seconds for you to remember. To realise your prediction was right. Joe hasn't reached out in the night. No silent I still love you touch under the covers for you.

And it stings.

Could make you cry if you thought about it long enough.

Joe's stayed on his side of the bed, facing away from you, and you tell yourself that at least you've come back to his flat like you said you would. You finished the work you had to finish, and did the right thing by returning.

But then, you concluded, you also haven't reached out to him at all, and immediately felt bad.

Joe can be so annoying sometimes, but you do still love him, and a warm palm to a shoulder blade could've at least let him know.

It would've made you the bigger person.

Which, you still were. You came back, didn't you? But Joe was being an absolute child and you didn't want to sink down to his level.

You should've reached over. Should've touched him. You have no good excuse for not following the one rule you came up with after your first real argument, and now you feel bad.

Shit.

The coffee is to make up for it. At least a little. To say, I'm sorry I didn't reach out, here's me doing that now.

"Morning," you whispered when you saw him stir and open a squinty, confused eye.

You didn't wait for a reply. Just left the coffee there and walked back to go and make yourself one too.

Joe watched you leave and the moon came crashing down.

He knows what the coffee means.

He's read your messages, can hear you make breakfast in his kitchen and decides he needs to reach out too. With his coffee in hand, he gets up and makes his way over to his living area where he finds you rubbing your fist into an eye through a yawn, with a carton of eggs in the other hand.

"Morning," he croaks, and sees how it's only just starting to get light outside, it's so early still.

It feels a little weird and embarrassing to speak to you right now. To remember how you'd been in this same room just a few hours ago, and he'd told you to fuck off.

Fuck off, he'd said. To his girlfriend. Had meant it with his whole chest too. What a fucking idiot.

You turn your head to give him a small smile that doesn't reach your eyes, and ask, "Do you want some eggs?"

The moon can die.

He doesn't want the moon.

The moon is too far from the sun. He wants you closer and happy and well-rested and for your smile to overtake your whole lovely beautiful face when you see him and he hasn't got the faintest clue where to even start to fix it.

He doesn't know how to turn all the feelings in his chest into words to convey how sorry he feels. Has no idea what to say. Has no idea how you'll react to a verbal apology either.

But you look so soft, shoulders slouched, the scrunched up bit of fabric that held your hair up and out of your face as you slept about to slip out. And, even though he can tell it's not a real smile, you're still giving him a kind face. You're being civil.

You've made him a coffee how he likes it and just offered to make him some eggs and, Jesus, he's just the most awful person ever, isn't he?

The overwhelming need to wrap himself around all of you takes over.

Joe leaves his coffee on the side and steps closer to attach himself to your back. You accept it, and he can feel how you let your head rest against the side of his as he hugs you, arms tight around your waist.

He's glad that you let him.

But he also feels the defeat there.

The, Joe what the fuck, that's waiting to slip out of your mouth. Maybe it's why you're keeping things surface level. No time or energy to get into an actual conversation right now. Just breakfast eggs and perfect coffee.

That's okay.

Joe doesn't know what to say anyway, and he'd love some eggs, actually.

"I'd love some, but," Joe kisses the side of your face, does it quick so he doesn't have to feel you pull away from it, and then gently moves you aside. "Let me."

A first attempt at fixing it.

Joe finishes breakfast whilst you go for the quickest shower of your life. When you turn the water off he asks what time you need to leave from the kitchen. His eyes find your coffee that's going cold, and he thinks it's so stupid that you have to be back at work so soon.

This time he doesn't feel sorry for himself, though. This time he feels sorry for you.

It's a big difference.

You've only just left the office, Joe thinks. And sure, sometimes he makes long hours and feels like he lives on set, but you're in an office.

He knows that's different.

Worse.

You've got to go and present all the things you've finished and he knows you like it just as much as he does. That being: not at all. There's no use in getting angry at you.

He sees that now.

You're just as much at fault for not being able to go out with him last night as he is. That being: not at all.

Joe watches you take a few hurried mouthfuls of egg on toast, and he wants to tell you sorry before you leave.

He doesn't.

Isn't sure how, and feels like a literal child because, Jesus Christ, they're just words.

But you smile at him, even though it's only small. And you let him kiss your cheek on your way out. And when you've left, it's not even eight o'clock, which is too fucking early, and he decides he needs to give you more quiet I love yous that he didn't give you under the covers in the night the way he should've done.

You get flowers delivered to the office that afternoon.

It's a large bunch, beautiful colours, and you can't lie; it absolutely makes you smile. You can tell it's expensive, and you know he's paid extra for the same day delivery, but... he didn't reach for you last night, and you didn't reach for him either, and whenever you think of Joe, that's all that comes to mind.

You'd seen him turn to stone.

So cold and careless.

Had seen in his face how he didn't give a single shit about how inconsiderate he was being.

A bunch of flowers isn't going to magically make that visual go away, but it's nice that he' tried's trying, and you try to hold onto that.

When you leave the office that day, you text Joe that you're headed to your own flat because there's food in your fridge that needs eating before it goes off, and your dishwasher is half filled with dirty dishes that have been in there for about a week already, so you kind of need to go turn it on, and there's probably also a load of laundry you could do, plus a quick pass of your floors with a vacuum, maybe.

Joe doesn't get to read it for a few hours. Busy day on set. When he eventually does, sort of annoyed that you had to wait for his coloured ticks again, he texts back, "Yours?"

And you text back so quickly, it makes his guilt grow.

"don't forget your key, im gonna lie down "

Perfect, Joe thinks. He'll sneak in and maybe get some of your shit sorted whilst you kip on your sofa.

But when he walks in, you're not on the sofa. You're already in bed, and that's sort of heartbreaking, because it's so early, and Joe finds the food that's about to go off uneaten in your fridge still. Finds the dishwasher still half filled, smelling rank, dirty dishes growing mould in there. He also sees the full hamper that needs sorting and washing, and, how had he even had the gall to assume that you could just make time for him at a moment's notice when you hadn't even been able to take care of any of this?

Joe starts the dishwasher.

Sorts your dirty laundry and starts a dark wash.

Cooks the food that's about to go off and places it in plastic tubs to have at another time.

Notices you've not taken the flowers that he had express delivered home and tries not let that affect him, but fails.

You're not sure what it is that wakes you. The beeping of the dishwasher, or the clanging of plates as Joe places the clean ones back into their cupboards. When Joe comes to find you, you're on your side, facing away from the door, but Joe can see you're awake by the light from your phone that silhouettes you.

"You're awake," Joe says, voice surprised, and it makes you turn to look over your shoulder.

"Hey," you say softly, and Joe's eyebrows knit together automatically at how sad you sound.

"Thanks for the flowers," you turn in bed to let Joe kiss you as he bends over to place a small one to your forehead. "They got delivered during my presentation."

"Was it embarrassing?" Joe asks, sitting down next to you, one arm either side of you as he leans over. Kisses you again, but on your mouth this time.

"Very. Vanessa just barged in with them."

"Did you like them?"

"Hmm," you nod and give a little smile. Joe's glad for it, but he feels there's a distance there still. You're keeping your hands to yourself, even though his bare arms are right there.

"I um," Joe starts, and wants to start listing all the things he's done. Wants to tell you how he's been sweet, and kind, like you were with him this morning, and he wants those things to be the silent I love yous he should've given you last night.

But then he changes his mind and says, "Did the, um... did the presentation go okay?"

You nod, because it did go really well, actually. Thank fuck. But Joe doesn't ask any more questions about it, and he seems to hesitate to even speak at all. Seems to want to say something that he's clearly not saying. Afraid to say the wrong thing, maybe. You wonder if there's a sincere I'm sorry hiding in there somewhere.

"You seem tired..." he skirts around the issue, and it's disappointing, but not surprising.

"I am tired."

Then Joe looks at the empty space in your bed for a moment and gets up. Starts undressing. Leaves his clothes in a neat pile on your dresser and goes to brush his teeth.

When Joe looks at himself in the mirror, he frowns.

Fucking idiot.

Look at that coward.

He rests both hands on the sink, hangs into his shoulders, breathes through flared nostrils, and feels like a failure. You must think he is one too.

He didn't reach over last night.

With his toothbrush still in his mouth, he steps back into your bedroom and inhales a deep breath through his nose before he mumbles a barely audible and a very foamy, "I shouldn't have..."

He hears himself, grumbles low in this throat and turns on his heel, spits the toothpaste out and comes back.

Starts again.

"I shouldn't have said those things. Last night. I was being a dick, I shouldn't have done– well, anything, really. I was being mean just to be mean, I'm–"

"Joe," you interrupt, your voice soft.

You didn't reach out either.

"No," Joe argues, moves to sit back down next to you, arms back either side of you, hands pressing into the mattress. "You have nothing to be sorry for, I just," Joe sighs. Frowns. Doesn't know what to say.

What can he say to make you run a hand up one of his forearms?

"I didn't..." he tries once more, but falters again. Drops his head and knows he can't cry because he is not the person he's hurt.

He didn't reach over last night.

"Hey. I didn't either."

You read between the lines, even though your vision goes blurry with tears. You can hear the words Joe isn't saying and can read the thoughts he's not communicating. Joe's face always tells you a million things. You wonder if he's aware how easy he is to read.

You also wonder if he's aware that it's not going to be enough.

Joe swipes a thumb across your temple, close to your eye, and catches a tear that was about to slide into your hair.

He swallows thickly. Tries to swallow down whatever's hurting his throat.

"I don't want to live on the moon..." he then mutters, regretting how he set the world on fire. He wants to live on planet earth, even though it's all grey and black ashes now. He'll plant flowers there. Will feed them water, and will politely ask the sun let them grow.

Will ask you.

You're the sun.

You get to decide.

You don't fully understand what Joe means, because it sounds ridiculous, actors and their theatrics, but you tell him you don't want to live on the moon either and he huffs a laugh at how absurd that sounds coming from your straight face that's pretending it's not actively crying.

You're the sun.

Of course you don't want to live on the moon, silly.

"Your priority–" you start, breath hitching, but Joe is quick to interrupt.

"You. You. Us. I'm... it's us. I promise, it's us..." Joe sighs again, seemingly upset at remembering his own behaviour.

"Saying that is easy, though," you start, finally letting your fingers slowly wrap around one of his arms.

A touch.

It's enough to make Joe's whole face crumble.

He ducks down. Lets his arms find your shoulders to pull you up a little so he can hug you properly, both arms wrapped tightly around your frame, his face hidden into your neck, and you know Joe's only crying because of your fingertips touching his wrist. The smallest things can get him sometimes – so dramatic.

But you continue, "I believe that you believe that your priority is us, but when you're stomping around your kitchen, blaming me for shit I have no controll over, telling me that it's my fault that I–"

"No," Joe mumbles into your skin, and pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours. "No."

And you give his forehead a slight push with yours and you want to say, yes.

Yes that's what you were doing.

Yes that's what happened.

Yes you got caught up in all of your own feelings and forgot that I have a whole set of my own.

But then Joe whispers, "I'm sorry." and you can't help but go absolutely lax in his hold.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I love you, I'm sorry." he whispers his apologies against your mouth through heavy breaths because he's doing his best to not cry, but he's failing, because then he feels you shake with a sob, and, fuck that, he'll banish himself to the moon, actually.

He'll live up there no matter how miserable it is, and he'll take whatever sunlight he can get, and he'll be thankful for the rays you'll allow to even reach him at all.

"You didn't t-touch–" you stutter, and immediately feel Joe squeeze you tighter.

"I'm sorry, I love you. I'm so sorry." Joe whispers right into your ear. Keeps repeating it, over and over and over.

Your one rule.

He should've never broken it.

It's good to hear the words, the I'm sorrys tumbling over his lips, and you'll accept them for now. But actions speak louder than words, and you know that there will probably be a time where the way the world treats Joe will make his head grow to twice its size again. He'll do and say similar shit. Won't want to meet you halfway, but will demand that you make the trek all the way over to him, won't care what the ground will look like, and won't care if you're wearing shoes for it or not.

Joe doesn't know it right now, but you can see into the future and know it will happen again.

And when it does, you'll grow a little colder.

Let some of your rays die out.

"Here. Lay back." Joe says after holding you for a while, and when your head finds your pillow again, Joe curls around and uses every body part of his to touch yours under the covers.

Every inch of skin touching yours is a big fat quiet I love you that he'll repeatedly tell you all night. He's not gonna let go.

He knows he's on the moon still. Up there, all alone. Cold. In the dark.

He said he's sorry, but knows it's not enough.

Wants off, but is smart enough to not set foot somewhere he's not allowed yet.

He has said that he's sorry, and now he needs to wait for the sun.

Wait for you.

And he'll touch you under the covers until you're ready.

Whispers the promises into your hair as you fall asleep.

You get to decide.

He'll let the sun decide.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959

@hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn x Y/N #joseph quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #rpf #i'll let the sun decide

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seeminglyseph · 1 year ago

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The whole point of Scott Pilgrim is that at the beginning of Scott Pilgrim vs The World he’s like a big freeloading manchild who strings along a teenage girl because he doesn’t have the emotional intelligence to have a real relationship or end one properly and ends up devastating her and causing her serious emotional harm because he’s a deeply selfish individual who takes advantage of his friends and anyone who will let him because he’s an avoidant and whiny loser who hasn’t grown up or learned to how to be decent person.

Throughout the comic series he faces various conflicts and challenges that force him to grow as a person and deal with the consequences of his actions and this makes him have to learn that he is technically a pretty shitty person who has done a lot of really shitty things to people, and as such it kinda makes him grow up and become a better person. He makes amends and is still not *great* but he like… has to get a job, has to realize his behaviour hurts people and has to take responsibility.

The new cartoon makes him face a version of that person who didn’t take those lessons as deeply to heart as he should have and just decided to blame everyone else and run away and lash out and it makes him realize what a deeply unpleasant and unlikeable person he is to be around hopefully helping him to grow too.

Scott is not supposed to be a good person at the beginning of his character arc. He’s pretty reprehensible. Honestly most of the characters in the series don’t like him save for the teenager who is too young to know better and the girl who has just met him and isn’t all that great herself. Because as the new series shows, Ramona has her own issues to work through. She treated her “league of evil exes” like trash and dumped them for some pretty shit reasons.

Part of the reason Ramona and Scott end up working out is that neither of them were particularly great people. She’s flaky and judgemental and hurts people, she’s bad at communication and she plays people against each other if it works out for her sometimes. She doesn’t like it when relationships get hard, and that’s how she can have 7 exes with such hard feelings they formed a league over it.

But judging people at the beginning of their character arc isn’t really fair because like. You don’t take your final exam on the first day of class. They do manage to learn and grow and get better at stuff. They make amends and learn and become better people over time. And that’s part of the human experience.

And that’s something I really like about the new anime because on top of everything all the characters get that chance, I love seeing the Evil Exes getting a chance to grow and get closure and development. Matthew Patel’s character development is maybe my favourite thing to watch. Look at him become a Beautiful Theatre Kid Butterfly. I love him.

#scott pilgrim #scott pilgram vs the world #scott pilgram takes off

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maxlarens · 3 months ago

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Childhood friends to lovers Max???? you always being there for all his accomplishments so when you can't because you've got your own thing he's a little lost??? max always being judgmental about the guys you try to date?? the whole entire grid down to mechanics on other teams all seeing that he's utterly in love with you while he's just 😐 "yes this is my friend"???

But also love the depth of it like OOOOO you'd hate J*s with a burning passion for how he treated the love of your life your bestie however your love and respect for Max has you helping him set boundaries so his father doesn't continue ruining his life?? And J*s would have sneered at his son having a "girl friend" (I always go off reader being fem my apologies for assuming) and probably definitely at least hinted at treating you the same way if you were with max at a racing weekend (the gas station story?? ugh) BUT I see that being the only time Max stands up to him when he's a kid/teen because fine yeah treat me however you want but I'll fight to the death if you hurt her

lemme stop before I write a whole novel in your inbox 😭😭😭

viv!!!! omg going to address this in several sections:

yeah just utterly lost when you’ve got your first important work thing/etc that you cant take time off for. is like how am i supposed to celebrate without her? is totally off during interviews and a bit muted during celebrations. because he’s just a teenager celebrating something without his best friend in the entire world yknow🥺

literally everyone can tell they’re attached at the hip!!!!!! pls and he’s always saying well i don’t think they’re good enough for you about her bfs/dates. even complains about it to people. as teenagers do when they have a crush. and if anyone tries to subtly point it out yeah he just goes um? we’re friends?😐

and hating j*s!!! so real!!! just quietly seething and unable to do anything other than be so angry and gently tell max he deserves better. like she tries to encourage his relationship with his mum and sister more. tries to offer other points of view when j*s gets in his head. tries to comfort him even when it’s hard even when max doesn’t make it easy. because she knows there’s a way through it.

and of course j*s hates her. 1) she’s a distraction from karting. from spending all day and everyday on track. 2) shes a girl! a gender that j*s clearly has no respect for! only puts up with her for the sake of an easy relationship with his colleague. 3) she’s clearly pushing max to set boundaries with him. and stand up for himself😐

his open disdain of her probably reaches it’s highest point in max’s first few seasons in my opinion. when j*s’s grip on max is slipping. when he’s starting to listen to her more about boundaries and taking care of himself/his mental health. when he’s independent and starts to gravitate to her more and more. and he absolutely says something vile to her. and max absolutely stands up for her. is not going to let his dad treat the one person who supports him no matter what like that.

#💌asks #📎concepts #max verstappen x reader #childhood bsf!reader #🫂viv

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joydoesathing · 6 months ago

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Hi, do you have some Raffael and Ann's / Arlenne and Glen's headcanons (P.S You rule!)

Why yes, yes I do. Here comes a

DOUBLE (QUADRUPLE?) HC SPECIAL ✨✨

The Schmichts

They met each other around the early 1930s in New York

The suppressed realist and his manic pixie dream girl baddie™️

Can definitely put up a fight, if needed

Arlene helps Glenn let loose from his close-minded thinking and Glenn Arlene the stable support and validation she needs in those occasional times after she gets wearied out from staying positive 24/7 despite the unfriendly society.

Arlene

A friendly woman who seems to be off in her own world at times

A really good observer and can remember and describe things in detail

Her works and publications are mostly nonfiction but she does occasionally write fictional short stories, both of which are mostly based on real-life horrors the world could offer at the time including those she has experienced and witnessed way back then

She was born in the South and originally worked in a factory in the but later on quit then migrated North with her family to escape the especially nasty hate in the South and later on pursue her budding passion for writing

Despite knowing she's almost definitely going to be put down no matter where she goes, she has steeled her resolve and continues persevering

Glenn

A conformist with a usually no-nonsense personality

Can be a bit hard for him to say how he actually thinks and feels (suppressed man™️)

Having had to work tooth and nail in school and in work to get to where he is right now, all the while being beat down with countless insults and learning the extreme race biases, he has developed the mindset that, even though he's extremely good at his job, he always needed to keep his head low and not step out of line ,lest he would get put out of his job for he knows how precarious his position is.

After meeting Arlene, he did become noticeably more relaxed and smiles more often

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The Cappuccins

They first met in the 1920s in New York ( yes another New York mention, but trust me, I have my reasons XD)

Tall ex-gangster husband and lawyer wifey™️

"I fear no man, but that, *points at Ann*, she frightens me." -Raf

A criminal and a lawyer, getting together? How did it happen? The power of love 💕💕💕

Ann

She comes from a wealthy English family known in a good amount of socialite circles

Quite graceful, crazy intelligent, has impeccable manners and an eloquent way of speaking

She decided to slowly distance away from her family when she was first starting of her career. Ever the ambitious woman she was, she wanted to try to stand independently and make a name for herself.

When she started dating Raffael, she was well-aware that he was part of a gang but she had already fallen for him and was willing to believe that he could change (and he did)

Raffael

Tall, intimidating and quite short-tempered, but a big softie when it comes to those he loves

Back then when he was a teenager he formed a street gang with some of his buddies to earn some money for himself and his parents (they weren't very well-off)

He then quit his gangster life to settle down with Ann for both her and his buddies' safety

He's actually softened a lot after getting married and even visits his parents time to time talk about his life.

From crime hardened gangster to uncle who just chills around in Hawaiian shirts

#ask stuff #that's not my neighbor #genderbend #arnold schmicht #gloria schmicht #alf cappuccin #rafttellyn cappuccin #note: this is highly headcannoned

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ratsypatsy · 7 months ago

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Hello Tumblr! This is me posting on why is Mikaela a better option of protagonist than Sam.

I know the reason why Sam is the way it is, it's because they wanted people to feel identified by a character that's an average and simple person, I guess that's an interesting idea, however, Sam wasn't a very good example of this, they want to show a guy who is nice and find himself being brave at some point. But when I see the movie, I just see a horny teenager who did what he did just because he was involved in it, and to impress a gal, cause there wasn't an option, you can put make up on it by adding those scenes of him saying badass stuff... But that's not enough for me, the character itself seems as a lazy example of what they wanted to show, there's no flavor in it.

And then they made Mikaela as his romantic interest and it's crazy how she's better constructed than he is.

Her past is very interesting, let's start with that. She was considered a criminal at some point, but she had her reason. Then all the school looked as her just as a "sexy and privileged girl who is the gf of the popular guy", they saw her just as their "hot classmate", and not by what she actually is, and this is probably because she didn't wanted them to know the truth, because it's dangerous for her future.

Now, they could've used this to make the kind of character that did something wrong, but then risks it all to save the world, find her place and gain the forgiveness from her crimes.

She is a mechanic, what made her really interesting as a TF human protagonist, similar as Charlie, this ability of her is very useful for her alien comrades.

She is also brave, mature, and responsible.

She had her doubts at the beginning when she first saw Bumblebee, Sam convinced her in that part, but as he did it so easily, I think, without Sam there, a little chat with Bee would've been enough to make her change her mind. Even after that, she didn't questioned to keep helping the Autobots every time she could during the movie, not because she just had to be there, but because she actually wanted to help, she saw Bumblebee more as an individual than as an object, feeling bad for him when he got hurt (Sam kept calling him "my car" as if he was some pet or something that he own, he kept this behavior the next movies)

The reason why we couldn't see more of her interacting with the bots is because she wasn't the protagonist, even in the next movie, her role was mostly secondary, and all her relevance there was to add some drama to the relationship... The rest is just Sam doing his stuff (zzzz) they just throw most of the character to the trash, her only purpose was to be the badie of the movie, what's a shame, since it could've been more interesting.

Her character in the first movie felt more real than her boyfriend, more organic, she had problems, she wasn't perfect, and she had more feelings than being horny and trying to make the other character fell in love with her.

She was witty when she had to take actions.

I mean, is sad how they just putted her in the hot girl place, while giving her an interesting personality and background, jut to throw that, because they were more interested in taking shoots of the actress being sexy, and all of what surrounds her is just the fetish of someone who wanted a "bad girl", that's also smart and brave to fell in love with him, it's unfair. Meanwhile they gave us sam who is less interesting and irritating... Like, do you have a brain that works? The movie is very interesting, I think, it could've worked better for me with a better human protagonist.

#transformers #maccadams #maccadam #robots #mecha #decepticons #autobots #transformers 2007 #bayformers #sam witwicky #mikaela banes #bumblebee #optimus prime #bayverse bumblebee #transformers bayverse

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carriedawatermelon · 2 months ago

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Doing some little kinktober ficlets because why not. Please find the first installment of soft Ronance filth, which in this case is not actually that filthy, below.

Prompt: Seven Minutes in Heaven

Someone bumps into Nancy for about the hundredth time, a shoulder jostling her own near the wall of the living room, which Nancy uses to brace herself. At least the girl—Megan, third grade, sixth grade, a few years of ballet and most recently, second period US history—apologizes, genuinely.

“Sorry, Nancy. Too many people.”

“Too many people,” Nancy agrees and tries for a smile, which maybe works as she gets one in return.

And there are too many people, and there’s too much noise, and Nancy knows the occasional, protesting throbbing behind her eyes is going to become a full-fledged headache soon, but still, she stays. She stays and makes her way successfully out of the living room and into the kitchen. It’s still too crowded but only with people moving through, grabbing beer and whatever godawful punch is on the counter as they pass into the backyard or the living room or the den, where a whole other mass of bodies has congregated to talk and flirt and try to pretend like this is a normal week-before-graduation party.

It’s why she’s still here, that last part. Because it’s the week before graduation, and she’d been sitting with Hopper and Steve talking logistics two days ago and realized that the enthusiastically offered invitation from Becky, who like Megan, she’d known for most of her life and also hardly knew at all, would be the last one she ever got. Shit, she’d thought, absently correcting Hopper’s patrol map to accommodate for the newest construction. Shit, this is it.

She’d had that thought many times over the last few years, in a life-or-death way. It was jarring, to have it in the way she was supposed to, in the way that pretty much every other teenager in Hawkins and if John Hughes was right, everywhere else in America, had it, too.

“Steve, switch with me for Friday,” she’d said, and he’d done it, and now Nancy is leaning against a kitchen counter, wincing as something lukewarm soaks through the back of her pale yellow button-down and watching as her classmates do exactly what they should be doing the week before summer break.

She doesn’t feel angry that they’re pretending, the way she had with Steve. Well. She does feel angry. She always feels angry. But for the most part, it’s not with the people around her. For the most part, it’s on their behalf. On Barb’s behalf. On her own, even, when she can let herself.

They’ve all suffered. They’re the ones who stayed or came back, the crowded party at this point consisting of most of what remains of Hawkins High, grade irrelevant. Nobody is trying to kick anyone out, and nobody’s policing the door.

As of about two weeks ago, curfew had been lifted. Officially, the army finally managed to secure the area after the earthquake. Unofficially, El had demolished a weakened Vecna, the party offering her backup in the real world and the upside-down and the space in between. The work that’s left is still left, but it’s eliminating stragglers and maintaining vigilance, and El and Will both have a kind of ease and confidence that makes the rest of them feel hopeful, that made Nancy feel like she could switch a patrol shift to Steve to go to a party.

“Nancy,” someone shouts from the door of the kitchen. Ally, eyes bright with a plastic cup in one hand, shakes her shoulders. “Come play spin the bottle.”

In a small mercy, she’s being dragged toward the den before Nancy is forced to provide an answer, laughing an “Okay, okay, okay!”

In a bigger mercy, her body is replaced by one that makes Nancy’s shoulders relax, a genuine smile break across her face.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to sneak out back and smoke, but I’d hate to stop you from a game of spin the bottle with Hawkins High’s most eligible bachelors.”

Robin’s grin is big, her hands shoved into the pockets of her black jeans, an oversized green t-shirt tucked into the front under...Nancy’s favorite jean jacket.

“Thief!”

Robin’s grin grows. “Fair’s fair.”

And, well, Nancy can’t exactly argue. Robin’s black jacket is in her possession—currently neatly folded in the passenger seat of Nancy’s car—where it’s been since about two weeks after their first encounter with Vecna and where Nancy intends for it to remain until…until.

She scowls anyway, pushing back from the counter and making her way to Robin, who stiffens for a second at Nancy’s hug before relaxing into it, wrapping her arms around Nancy’s shoulders and holding her close. The jacket smells like the detergent her mom uses and a little like Nancy’s perfume, but underneath is all Robin, lavender and cloves and the cigarettes her mom smokes. She can smell weed, too, and she pulls back a little to look up at Robin, who’s looking down at her with a faint blush.

When Robin told her, fingers twisting and face paler than usual on the couch in her basement, that she likes girls, she’d put herself as physically far from Nancy as possible in the shared space. Nancy, heart broken as she listened to halting, stuttering sentences so far from the Robin she had grown used to, had tentatively scooted closer, lifting an arm in offer. Robin had hesitated for a second and then collapsed into her, crying while Nancy reassured her. Now, with Nancy’s constant encouragement, she’s getting better about touch, about initiating it and accepting it.

Of course, it is different now, but that’s Nancy’s fault. That’s because Nancy, as she has let herself admit for the past six or so weeks with increasing acceptance, wants to kiss her. She hasn’t yet and doesn’t now, but she does reach down and lace their fingers, tugging Robin toward the sliding door to the back.

“There’s a Robin/robber pun here somewhere but I can’t quite get there,” she admits, happy to see that the crowd of their peers thins significantly after the deck.

Robin snorts, follows easily as Nancy begins pulling them past small groups of people and toward the grass. It makes her bristle, still, the relative quiet in the largely dark yard, and Robin squeezes her fingers like she understands, because she does. The house and the summer night give enough light to navigate well enough, and Nancy has her eyes on a set of lawn chairs that seem to have been abandoned by a group now moving back toward the house, but as she moves toward them Robin stops her.

Her grin is pulled up at the side as she looks from Nancy to a tree with a tire swing and a set of boards nailed to its trunk. Nancy sighs, and Robin moves toward them, grinning, letting go of Nancy’s hand to pull at the steps and look up at the tree house.

“Robin. No.”

“What?” She says, in a terrible attempt at guilelessness.

“You know what.”

“I don’t.” She says easily. “I don’t know what.”

She shades her eyes like that’ll help her see in the dark, and Nancy rolls her own, stomach swooping with affection, before reaching into her bag and pulling out a flashlight.

When it clicks on, Robin looks back at her and bites her lip. “Nancy Wheeler. The Boy Scouts have got nothing on you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nancy says, like she isn’t about to indulge a terrible idea. “Investigation purposes, only, Buckley. We didn’t survive the upside-down so you could break yourself climbing a tree.”

“Totally, totally,” Robin responds, like she doesn’t know Nancy is about to indulge her terrible idea. “I’m just gonna investigate these first few steps and, uh…” When the first two hold, she looks down at Nancy happily and keeps climbing.

“You have no sense of self-preservation,” she calls after her. “Ms. Delayed Walker.”

When she reaches the platform at the top, she pouts down at Nancy, features a blend of shadows in the strange light. “That’s really rude, Nance. I think you should come apologize.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nancy says, already on the second plank, flashlight shining up from where she’s tucked it vertically in her purse. It catches Robin’s grin, and Nancy stares, feels like she’s falling with her hands securely gripped on the wood. Robin’s not the only one who’s ridiculous.

She pulls herself into the plank next to Robin, who wraps an arm around her waist. It’s reflex maybe, because the platform is small, and Nancy sees the flash of panic across her face so she leans into Robin’s body before she can pull away, hand moving to hold Robin’s against her.

“If we fall out of a tree before graduation, I’m going to be so pissed at you.”

Robin laughs, squeezing her, and then begins scooting back, Nancy releasing her so she can make her way into the little house behind them. For all her talk, she wouldn’t be up here if she didn’t think it were sturdy. The climbing planks are relatively new, wood stained and smoothed against splinters, so she suspected the house would be, too, and she’s pleased to find that she’s right.

It’s big for a tree house, and tall enough that Nancy can almost stand comfortably, bent just a little to explore, fingers on the cross beams below the roof so she doesn’t bump her head. There’s a little table shoved into one corner, a window in each wall where she can see that the little platform they landed on extending around the house like a porch. When she turns around, Robin has made herself comfortable on some cushions against the back wall, a pink floral print that looks like maybe it was stolen from lawn furniture. She has a joint in one hand and pats the seat next to her before reaching into her pocket (Nancy’s pocket) for a lighter.

There’s a lantern hanging from a hook near her head, two candles inside and Robin lights them as Nancy clicks off the flashlight and settles, close enough that their knees touch. Robin hands her the joint but keeps the lighter, and Nancy bumps her shoulder as she lights it.

“Such a gentleman,” she says, before inhaling, and Robin rolls her eyes but blushes.

Nancy doesn’t cough, though it’s still sometimes a close thing, the weed a post-Vecna addition to her life. It helps her relax and it doesn’t make her feel bad the way drinking does and it’s given her some of her favorite nights, sitting around smoking and talking and watching movies with Steve and Robin and Eddie and sometimes Jon or Vickie.

She passes the joint back, and props herself back against the wall, lets herself look at the girl next to her as they smoke together for a little while, making aimless conversation. There’s something undeniably attractive about watching Robin smoke, the shape of it between her lips and the way they move as she pulls, the smoke that she exhales slowly, eyes exploring the little house.

Eventually, Nancy asks, “How’re you feeling about next week?”

“Eh,” Robin offers along with another hit, which Nancy takes. “Weird. Fine. Nervous. Excited.” She brings her eyes back to Nancy, who smiles at her. “How ‘bout you?”

“Eh,” she echoes, and Robin pokes her gently. She’s warm, this close to Nancy, and she wants more, scoots closer, takes her hand and twines their fingers. Twirling the thick silver ring around Robin’s index finger, she feels Robin’s breath stutter, her own breath escaping with a happy sigh at their proximity. Robin mutes the joint and sets it against a Coke can. “Fine, I think. I feel good about what’s coming. Good about Chicago.” She squeezes at Robin’s fingers and Robin squeezes back. “Good about Chicago with you. I’m ready, I think. It’s not like…I didn’t exactly love,” she stops playing with the ring for a second and gestures out toward the yard, the house, “all of this. High school. You know.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

Nancy presses closer, drops Robin’s hand in favor of wrapping it around her under her (Nancy’s) jacket, bullying her way into her side until Robin wraps an arm around her shoulders, laughing, thumb running a gentle up and down against her arm as they settle.

“The ending hasn’t been so bad,” Robin says, pauses.

Nancy can’t help but repeat, stoned and uncertain she’s heard correctly, “The ending hasn’t…” She can’t even finish, her voice cracking on what surely is a joke, and then they’re both cackling, clutching each other.

“Dingus,” Nancy gasps, mostly in Robin’s lap now, and Robin groans.

“I am. I’m a total dingus. ‘The ending hasn’t been so bad,’” she repeats, mocking herself, and Nancy tucks her head into her neck, laughing, Robin’s arms tight around her waist. “That’s what I get for trying to be smooth, I guess.” And then she shuts up so fast Nancy hears her jaw click.

And maybe Nancy should be nervous, but instead all she feels is immensely pleased. “Oh?” She says, voice teasing as she pulls herself away, adjusting until she’s straddling Robin’s thighs. Robin looks terrified and also can’t stop staring at Nancy’s legs where they now bracket her own, eyes flitting between Nancy’s and their laps. Her hands are hovering at her sides, fingers opening and closing around nothing, and Nancy takes pity, full of smug affection as she takes them and puts them on her thighs.

The noise Robin makes is something between a groan and a whimper, and it makes Nancy more than a little feral.

“Trying to put the moves on me, Buckley?” She doesn’t try to hide the want in her voice as she lets her own hands settle on Robin’s neck, thumbs tracing the corners of her jaw.

Robin finally holds her gaze, fingers spreading and squeezing at Nancy’s thighs. Nancy shivers. Robin squeezes harder.

“Nancy.”

Robin’s lips are warm and waxy, the last of the vanilla chapstick she likes clinging on through their smoking. It’s perfect; she’s perfect, hands climbing to Nancy’s waist, where she holds her steady as she deepens the kiss, the taste of weed and lemonade and Robin filling Nancy up.

“Nancy,” Robin says when they pull away, voice breathy. “What’s happening right now?”

The affection Nancy feels is almost violent, it’s so overwhelming, and she lets herself kiss Robin again, hard and quick. “Well,” she says. “You attempted one of the worst lines I’ve ever heard.” She keeps her tone teasing, and Robin closes her eyes and groans, head thudding against the wooden wall behind her.

Nancy tsks, and Robin blinks open her eyes, blush in full force in the candlelight. She’s fucking gorgeous.

“And it worked,” she says primly, moving a hand to Robin’s sternum, flattening her palm and feeling her breathe before tugging at the lapel of her (Nancy’s) jacket. “Because it appears I like you so much that I’m willing to overlook things like thievery and terrible come ons.”

“You…you like me so much that…” And then she’s kissing Nancy again, less gently, and Nancy sighs approvingly, sucking at Robin’s bottom lip. Robin’s mouth moves to her neck, her hands shifting to Nancy’s hips to urge her closer, and she goes easily, moving a hand into Robin’s hair and moaning as her tongue and then her teeth find a spot that makes her hips cant.

“Fuck, Rob.”

She pulls away, gasping, hands flexing on Nancy’s hips.

“Do you…do you want…” She shakes her head, eyes closing, and Nancy kisses her gently.

“I want to date you,” she says, watching as Robin’s eyes snap open. “I want to hold your hand while you talk to me about whatever the movie of the day is, and I want to fix your collars and leave lipstick on your cheek when I kiss you goodbye, and I want to ask you to stay over and have you know exactly what I mean.”

“Yeah?”

Her voice is small, almost scared, and Nancy channels as much love as she can into her own as she says, brushing a thumb over a beautiful cheekbone, “Yeah. Is that something you could want, too?”

“Yes.” A hand cups Nancy’s jaw. “I want that so much, Nance. I can’t even…I want you so much. I’m…it’s…” She laughs, running a hand through her hair. Nancy misses it. “Sorry, um, sorry. I just, I really can’t believe this is happening. Holy shit.” Her smile is wide, her eyes bright. “Nancy Wheeler wants to date me.”

Nancy laughs, tucks her hair back. She feels the flush in her own face and doesn’t hate it, for once. “Yeah, I really do.”

“You’re beautiful,” Robin says, and bites her lip. “Is that…I think it all the time, you know. Like, all the time. Like, yesterday when you got mad at that guy for turning without his blinker, and you made this face, and your lips did this thing, and all I could think was how gorgeous you were. And then tonight, when I showed up and you were leaning against the counter, and I could tell you were trying to figure out how you were gonna say no to Ally, you know, you have this, like, thinking face, and God, Nancy, all I wanted was to press you back against the counter and…”

She stops, catching herself, but Nancy wants none of that. “And what, Robbie?” She takes Robin’s hand and puts it back on her hip, greedy and pleased as she watches Robin’s eyes grow big, feels her fingers flex. “What did you want to do?”

She moans into the kiss, into the grip of Robin’s hands, letting her hips roll into the body pressed against hers. When her mouth moves to her neck again, kissing and sucking, Nancy throws her head back and holds Robin close.

Hands move from her hips to the buttons of her shirt, tentative, and this had probably been the conversation Robin wanted to have earlier, about what Nancy wanted.

It takes an incredible amount of willpower but she manages to pull back, panting, tilting Robin’s face to meet hers. Because Nancy will absolutely let Robin fuck her in this treehouse, but Robin’s a virgin, and she deserves better than cramping hands with their clothes still on. Nancy has plans.

“Come home with me.”

“Okay,” Robin agrees immediately, head bobbing eagerly, and Nancy grins, kissing her gently.

They tidy themselves as best they can, hands untangling as they reach the house again, and the party’s still in full swing, loud and bright and smelling like cheap beer and fruit punch.

They pass by the group playing spin the bottle on their way out, a series of shouts coalescing into a chant as a couple is sent off to the closet for seven minutes in heaven.

Robin shakes her head. “Nightmare,” she says under her breath, and Nancy laughs.

“I don’t know.” She grins at Robin and uses the crowd as an excuse to grab her hand again, keep her close. “I feel like you’d find lots of jackets to steal.”

She doesn’t need to see her to know her eyes are rolling. “I would bet 20 of Steve’s dollars that my jacket will be in the passenger seat of your car when we get there. The hypocrisy is heavy, Nance.”

“So, what?” She shrugs as they break through the front door, making their way to Nancy’s car up the block. “I like wearing my girlfriend’s jacket.”

It’s quiet, and Nancy’s worried for a second that she’s overstepped, but when she looks, she finds Robin staring at her with heat in her eyes, her jaw set.

“I bet,” Robin says, looking around and keeping close to Nancy, voice low, “I bet you’d look great in that jacket and nothing else.”

Nancy swallows, stops as they reach the car. “Wanna find out?”

#ronance #ronance fic #ronance smut #Ronance kinktober

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dittobtch · 2 months ago

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I'd like to hear about leatin

ah yes my favourite topic:

leah, just a lonely girl living in a lonely world. a girl who falls in love with an older disgusting man only to get her heart broken later on.

then there's fatin: bold, gifted, and tired. so fucking tired of being held back by her busy schedule that she doesn't even want.

both of them fear love for different reasons. fatin thinks she's incapable of it and even if she was, all it brings is pain and heartbreak and she's had enough of that. besides, she doesn't have the time for anything like that: not romantic love nor platonic. familial love for fatin is... well... complicated...

leah on the other hand is familiar with the sting an intense, burning love leaves behind. she's suddenly left alone and has to deal with the consequences on her own. despite everything, all she wants is that toxic love back. to her, it's the only thing that can cure the emptiness she feels.

even on the island all she can think about is jeff. she gets into a literal fight with fatin over him (and fatin's "laziness" and lack of cooperation, but anyways).

then shit gets real. specifically, fatin goes missing. (cue the beginning of a beautiful, complex, sometimes toxic relationship).

only after Leah's confronted with the thought that holy shit someone could die - Fatin could die, does she finally burn his fuck ass book and metaphorically let him go (for now, anyways).

things are good for a bit, then they're bad. the ups and downs of the island. sometimes they get along, like when they think they're going to get rescued. other times they still have trouble getting along and that's okay too; they're learning and they're there for each other and that's all that matters.

well, they're there for each other until they're not. leah's mental health goes into a decline as season 2 begins. fatin tries to hold it together for the both of them, but she can't help but (homoerotically) argue with leah (for the second time) to defend her grieving friend.

eventually they make up because of course they do. afterall, fatin "was starting to like her" and knew that she could never really stop caring about leah.

in fact, the opposite starts happening. she cares about leah so much that she begins to look for the truth for leah. she devotes herself to the very thing that nearly drove leah insane. because she believes leah, for real this time.

and it's good but it's makes her feel so guilty because holy shit leah was right and fatin let her believe that she was insane. she unknowingly helped in gaslighting leah, but she can't give up now. she has to prove that leah was right; it's the only thing that can make up for it.

so, fatin attempts to pick up what leah left behind. fatin, who less than two months ago was unwillingly to help in building a simple shelter, puts in so much of her time and energy in figuring out the truth for leah. she'll let herself go insane the way leah did, do all the ethically questionable things, as long as leah doesn't have to do it anymore.

because fatin loves her:

and even though leah doesn't know fatin does all of this for her, leah loves her back:

(i could not for the life of me find a "the voices you love" gif, sorry)

ultimately, i love leatin because it's a story of these two complex teenagers who heal and break together. neither of them are fond of the idea of love when they meet, especially not with each other but together, they form a unique bond. their love doesn't fix each other but instead, they do things out of love for one another that helps them both.

they relearn how to love together. it's not perfect, but it works for them.

in the words of basically everyone left in this fandom: THEY COULD HAVE BEEN EVERYTHING but also they kind of already were everything and i don't think i'll ever get over it.

anyways if you liked this you should read my new fic too lmao

#tl;dr leatin is the best and i love them #god i hope this is coherent #i dont think you meant for me to write an entire essay #but i did #and then used it as an excuse to promote my fic lmfao #whoops not sorry about it #so thanks <3 #leatin #the wilds #ask and you shall receive #btch talk

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ragequeen94 · 4 months ago

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NSFW of the Papas looking their virginity?? ....don't judge I'm a simple ho w simple dreams. ❤️❤️❤️

You are doing the dark lords work

CW ... not all of these are happy and cute. I am an angst master so... you know. Enjoy.

Primo

Primo lost his virginity in a ritual. It was his choice. He had been asked if he had wanted to pledge himself to the church now that he was a young man. It was the choice of all, not a requirement. He had been paired with a sister who was a little older than him, so was experienced and kind, she had made him feel safe under the statue of Lucifer with Lillith. She had held him and let him take his time. Nothing but kindness and love and passion. He loved every second. And in the morning she had been so sweet to him, she had sat with him at breakfast and giggled and pet his hair. The other girls of the abbey fawned over him, now that he had opened himself up to carnal blessings it was open season. No one was ever as special to him as his first, and he liked that he had had the experience and done it on his terms, and he loved that he was blessed to have the option. Now he worshiped at the altar of Babylon often, almost every night, and sometimes he was blessed to be chosen as the first for someone the younger congregates, and he treated them, man or woman, with the same care and love he had been given. Love begets love, this are the teachings of his church.

Secondo

He had been born angry. He got it from his mother, he was sure. At least thats what Primo had said, their mother had a vengeful temper. He wouldn’t know. Whatever anger she had when she had birthed him she had put it into him, and then left him. His life was a weird mix of rage at the world and rage at himself. So when he was too young he went out on his own and found himself someone who didn't care how old he was, or if he was okay, or even his name. The night he lost his virginity he hadn’t even been kissed, not for real. A sleazy tumble with a drunk woman in the bathroom of a bar. He had returned home even angrier than before, he took it out on his brothers for a while, then everyone else. He didn't know why he had this anger, he didn't know why he always hurt, he didn’t know why he couldn't let himself cry. He didn’t know why no one wanted to hold him.

Terzo

Terzo put himself in situations he wasn’t always ready for. He would man up and then dig himself a deeper hole. Its how he was. So when he at the age of 16 found himself in a room of giggling sisters. He steeled himself and flirted back with the women. They were dancers in his brothers show, Papa Primo. The sisters had snuck the cute little brother into their changing room and offered him wine and chocolate, he had fed them strawberries and whispered to them in italian. The American girls loved when he spoke italian. He literally rambled nonsense and they blushed and twirled in their skirts. Then one of them had taken his jaw in her hand and kissed him, then giggled like it hadn't happened, then another girl did the same thing. She kissed him and giggled, he turned back around and the first girl had taken off her shirt, she grabbed his hand and put it on her breast. The girls were giggling, he was shaking. One of the girls climbed on top of him and pushed him on his back. It kept going like that, and he didn’t want it to stop. At least that's what he thought, he still wasn’t sure… but he had been scared and confused and embarrassed. Backstage at his brothers concert, with girls way more experienced than him, playing their games. They probably didn't even think about how young he was…

Copia

Copia was way older than he would like to ever admit. If someone asked him he’d say he lost his virginity to his girlfriend when he was 18 in an uneventful romp after a teenage sweetheart romance.

The truth was he was a virgin until he was 29 years old. At first it hadn't seemed like a big deal, he was pretty isolated in life and a lot of the people around him were older, way older than him and weren't interested in anything romantic he might have to offer. Then when he was a little more free he had tried a few times but his awkwardness and immaturity hadn't been too attractive, and he was a little but to unaware of his introvert behavior to realize when he was ignoring someone. He was so focused on his church duties by his mid twenties that sex seemed like some weird concept. He read about it, spoke about it; but for some reason it was this kind of… other worldly thing that happened to other people or in fantasy. he felt things like lust obviously, it was a major cornerstone of everything he believed in… but he had never practiced it. His loneliness was the worst part. As he neares thirty he longed to hold someone in his sleep, To have someone card their fingers through his hair, to be kissed on the cheek. He found himself starting to look at the congregation in a way he hadn't in a while… he just wasn't sure how to get someone to… like him. He knew as cardinal he could probably just ask any sister to join him in his bed and it would happen… but the guilt of the power dynamics stopped him. He hid himself away but desired to be pursued. It didn't help that he lied to anyone who did inquire about his sexual history. He told them the teenage story and admitted to it having been a while. So no one knew he even had a virginity to claim.

But none of that mattered.

Because Papa Secondo had degreed the church start celebrating Lupercalia again, in the way of the old tradionions to honor his ascension. And it involved the members of the clergy authority to perform a rather tedious sex ritual.

No one asked copia if he was comfortable or interested and he was too anxious about the while thing to speak up in his defense. So he found himself dressed in a red robe, naked, at an altar with a naked woman in a mask Spread before him and the entire congregation. He thanked hell below that he had caught Terzo swallowing some blue pills before the ritual and had been offered some without being asked. His cock was more than ready, and to be honest it was better if he didn't take too long. He wasn't the first man to have offered unholy communication at the altar of Babylon that night… and wouldn't be the last. He wanted it over.

So he did his duty. His virginity gone, to a mystery woman he would never know, and who would never know what she had taken, infront of everyone he had ever known. He cried himself to sleep that night… hugging his pillow to his chest.

#ghost #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #ghost headcanons #ghost band headcanons #papa secondo #papa terzo #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus iii #papa copia #papa primo #papa emeritus 4 #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus

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missmarveledsblog · 3 months ago

Text

It's the middle ( Joel miller x reader)

Summary: the town had their own theories to why y/n shell suddenly was opening more , only some took it as invitations and after she sets an asshole straight in the bar for his words on her and Ellie she is attacked . Some things are reveal and a darkness is coming back from the past

Warning: attempted sa , sort of heavy part not gonna lie

This is part two of its a start

They wondered how he did it , how the usually non social butterfly Joel miller got the surprisingly worse no social y/n well to talk . it wasn’t like she was new towns personality or anything but she was saying hello and actually answering people. They heard her voice albeit at first was almost a whisper but it was far from the short nods of acknowledgements which to be fair were also far and few inbetween . ellie also stop swearing keeping her word for a whole ten minutes before her mouth caught that missed out time up. But in the end they all wondered how he done it.

Something that didn’t end with the world was the gossip , each having their on theories of the matter from something bad happening she it was like a life is too short sort of thing to not so pg remarks that joel fucked her so hard she went into a factory reset those ones made him roll his eyes and scoff. She on other hand didn’t take notice of the rumours , ignored whispers about her as she walked learning to be open again was taking up more head space then grown adults acting like teenage girls. Which the little social interaction now open she notice men her age and older started talking to her some took her saying no as it was , some added weak jokes but again took her word and other well they didn’t take it so well like the very existence of her rejection was a threat to their male centred egos . she didn’t give them time of day which only made them more pissed like she was” little miss high and mighty” in their words. One in particular didn’t like it as much as the others , thought his shit didn’t stink and she was lucky to even have his attention .

Nigel Baker , he was attractive she’d give him that but it was everything else that was so ugly about him . the man was selfish , expected the best when he gave the bare minimum and serial womaniser . He bragged about how he took down a hoard of infected with just his hunting knife yet seemly everytime it was time for him to go on patrol he would have some form of injury that would make him useless for the task but for some reason or other he thought he desired everything he wanted and that included y/n .

“ he’s staring at you again , creepy fuck” ellie rolled her eyes as two sat at the bar of tipsy bison.

“ let him i ain’t bothered man like that is a child at best” she chuckled taking sip of her whiskey as ellie drank her water although she did try persuade them give her a glass of the “ hard stuff” .

“ i mean joel and tommy should be here soon , he usually stops when their around , going back to his fake ass tales” she snorted.

“ fake ass tales who would that be?” the sniffling voice asked behind them .

“ oh you know some kids and their tales , it’s cute but you can tell real one mile away” y/n barely looked at the man who was too well self absorbed to pick up the slight dig in her words.

“ ain’t it truth , they ain’t like us baby huh? Real survivors ” he took seat beside her.

“ why you talking like that aren’t you from chicago or something” ellie snorted at fake southern drawl he kept putting on .

“ ain’t you too young to be here , seems as though the miller bitches need to be taught their place, is that what you need baby , i mean fix her might make that one like men again huh? ” he shot back .

“Hey hey , so you fought off a hoard right that must of been scary when you do that” she asked batting her lashes fake smile like she wasn’t biting her tongue .

“ oh like six month ago easily” the smirk on his face one she seen in so many before him a mask of a monster, was the best way to describe it.

“ do you have it” she asked sweetly as ellie head watched in amusement , she may of not heard y/n speaking long but it was long enough to know she was playing with the man before her.

“ course ya can , see this is the one that did it” he held it up, anyone with weapons experience could tell it was a phoney ,thing wasn’t cutting anything but possibly the air. She took it from his hands and let out a loud laugh , louder than anyone possibly ever heard before including ellie.

“ this ain’t fighting anything but a hoard of butterflies never mind infected , i mean it’s good but it’s faker than your accent which could use a little work just saying” she snorted.

“ clearly don’t know anything about knives baby because look at it clearly been through it ” he scoffed although the blush on his face told a different story.

“ i know it a faux metal made probably what six months ago rust and pattern on knives ain't like that this ones got green flecks not the rust of the older ones would get , see it don’t even mark the wood so nigel my fake ass cowboy infected annihilator why the bullshit because my daddy used to make um before all this told me how to spot cheap ones from the real ones , i can see now why you don’t go on patrol wouldn’t want to break the show piece… oh and cowboy wanna be ain’t nothing needs to fixed with ellie just pissed she get more women than you do ” she laughed watching his smirk fall , that look in his eyes .

“ you’d wanna shut your mouth girl , just cause your joel millers plaything doesn’t mean i won’t put you in your place” he growled.

“ go ahead and you’ll see what a real knife is” she smiled holding it in her hand and his fake in her other . “ now leave before we have real problems” she handed it over .

“ watch yerself sweetheart old man can protect you all time” he hissed.

“ i can protect myself little man” she waved watching him storm out .

“ that was bad ass, the rust really go green ?” ellie chuckled .

“ the metal has a chemical reaction over time only thing that knife could do is spread butter on my toast i mean could take down one but even at that it would break easily” she shrugged.

“ hey there’s dina i’ll tell her to wait here til joel gets here incase he’s outside ” ellie smiled excitedly.

“ nah go ahead joel will show up he knows we’re here and bastard knows his place go on lover girl ” she smiled taking another swig .

“ ok tell him i’ll be home for curfew” she had a bashful smile while heading to the girl ones she’s expressed her interest in the last while seen as it wasn’t one side and two were close. Of course y/n wanted that , she wanted it with a man she could never have well in her mind could never have .

It was hours she sat waiting only too give up thinking maybe the meeting was in over time or joel already went home either way she was getting tired and her bed was definitely calling , a few good men offered to walk her home but she waved them off knowing it was a five minute walk back plus air was getting cooler hoping to catch the first of snowfall one tradition she always kept from her old life , the life of her family . ones who wanted her to be must of a child as she could be in a world falling apart. She stood out it was perfect sort of weather , her eyes on the sky watching waiting as she walked through the darkening streets of jackson . like on cue the first flake floated down from the sky as she smiled softly catching it on her finger tips , then another and then another. So concentrated on the connection to memories she didn’t register the figure sneaking up behind her til his hand was around her mouth and other dragging her off into the makeshift ally of the stores. Kicking and pushing trying to break the grip to no avail , being tired and drinks in her system didn’t have her as precise as before . she felt herself being slammed into the walls hitting her head against the brick but she could tell even in her daze vision she knew exactly who it was.

“ fucking bitch , what you gonna be a nasty little slut for , what is it i’m too young fer ya , like em old” nigel spat pinning her front to the cold wall . “ i’ll get you liking em you age again put manners on ya , stop you running your mouth” he laughed as she felt his hand going to her jean only for her to pull the knife out she could feel the blood heading into her eye . she felt his hand going for the button only for her knife to hit the skin cutting him making him get off of her with a hiss when she pushed him away . she ran yelling , screaming loudly as could hoping someone would hear her. She felt the arms wrapping around her making her slap and hit the person away.

“ darling stop it’s me , calm down” his voice , the man she wanted the panic setting as his scent hit her know . his voice calming that fight only for her to break in his arms it reminded him of the night she first let those walls come down . “ what happened” he asked softly.

“ nigel he tried to … tried”she said before crying again what she didn’t know was the men heard the commotion , was heading way as tommy and couple others headed to the alley .

“ take er home we’re going to pack his bags” tommy called as the men held nigel in their grips probably for his own safety from the look on joel’s face .

“ come on darling we get you home and cleaned up” joel lifted her up a her hang clung to him terrified like some how her mind made up the fact he was there and if she let go he would disappear. “ i cut him” she sniffled head buried in his neck. “ i hurt him to get away”.

“ only protecting yourself darling s’okay “ .

“ i pissed him off , provoked him joel i made everyone laugh at him i just wanted him leave me alone” she began crying again he could see it her torn clothes blood on her face the bruise on her cheek , the way she shook in his arms . it killed him , killed him to see her like this hell if she didn’t need him so much the bastard be dead before tommy and other even got the chance but she needed him and he promised her he always got him on her side.

He brought her to cleaned her up , gave her some clothes and gave her his bed for the night .

Ellie was late but moment she stepped in door she knew something was wrong, she could see he was tense more so than usual , she could see the bloody cloth and yet not scratch on him .

“ Y/N was attacked tommy and couple other taking him out of town , she’s sleep upstairs so be quiet” he said too tired mental and physically hating if wasn’t so close what the outcome would of been.

“ let me guess nigel” she asked .

“ yeah she told me about the bar man waited til she wasn’t looking , took her off guard cause prick knew she would of done worse if he confronted her straight on” he spatted hands gripping the chair knuckles bone white . “ lucky i ain’t out there now , she thought she done wrong , said she provoked him , she hurt him you believe that her heads busted open and bruised cheek and she thinks she done wrong i don’t care if she punched him in that bar a man don’t do that” he growled ready to grab his coat.

“ hey pretty girl you ok” ellie called looking to the stair snapping joel from rushing out the door.

“ i’m ok really urm i think i should get home” she smiled weakly.

“ yeah not happening in fact i’m putting you on house arrest til breakfast tomorrow” she joked hugging her tightly . “ i should of stayed” she could feel the shake in girls voice.

“ nah i already told him i’d show him real knife i got it don’t worry” she kissed her head softly probably only other person to have the affection from y/n . “ it’s no ones fault ellie he deserved what he got in the bar after what he said nothings more fragile than a monsters ego” she pulled back .

“ what he say in the bar?” joel asked.

“ bragging , said ellie needed fix , i was your plaything i mean lists goes on” she rolled her eyes yet winced at the sting in her cheek. “ i was biting my tongue and then he started with that so i well probably pushed too far but i’d do it again” she sat on sofa .

“ go get bed kid let you off this time coming home late” joel nodded his head at stair .

“ you better be here is morning , night you two” she called heading up the stairs .

“ i’ll take sofa” she looked up at him a smile on her face but he could tell it was put on , he could see it didn’t reach her eyes or did it convince anyone before he could say anything a knock was heard at door making her jump .

“ it probably tommy relax i’ll tell him come back in morning” he patted her shoulder hating how she tensed under he touch but he didn’t take it personal . he was right minute door open it was his brother only he didn’t wait for joel to speak letting himself in straight over to where y/n .

“ hey firecracker you ok” he asked going to reach out touch her face only she moved back . “ sorry sweetheart , you cracked him in the nose and his hand is fucked so good job” he smiled weakly .

“ i didn’t know i just swung and ran” she laughed dryly wishing she done worse .

“ he gone?” joel asked .

“ we had bring him to doc but guys are bringing him out now” he nodded . “ you ok though? He didn’t…hurt you?” tommy asked feeling guilty for not getting rid of the prick sooner.

“ he only got to touch my jeans before i sliced his hand” her voice cracked looking down at the sweats .

“ ok ok good he won’t bother you again i promise you that , couple of guys will double check in morning too but tonight it best you stay here ok ” .

“She is now let er rest , come back tomorrow” joel huffed holding door open .

“ yeah right sorry it’s late just needed to..” he said only to hugged her tightly. “ i’m glad your ok” he smiled pulling back heading out the door.

“ Course I am I not alone anymore I got you guys” she Called out .

“ ok ok hallmark you need rest I'll see you tomorrow And so will maria bring proper shit to cover the wound “ he chuckled calling Back .

she sat looking at her hand , she hated she let herself Get distracted it could of been so much worse and yet joel proved her right He was there when she needed him , she wasn't facing things alone .

“ come on go take my bed no one needs to take watch"he huffed sitting beside her keeping his distance but still being close.

“ I can sleep every time my eyes close I feel the wall , I can feel his breathe on my skin “ she sighed head falling back hating She felt so vulnerable It wasn't a emotion she'd felt in years and one she thought she never Feel again .

“ I can sit with you talk So you won't hear him , you hear me , hold yer hand so you can feel me whatever you need I got you I promised you that and I don't break those not to You” he said softly watching the way she relaxed to his words , how when he touched her hand she didn't tense or freak out. She held on tighter like she was afraid it was all part of her dream , joel would be gone And Nigel Would come back .

“ could You stay with me all night?” It was so low almost a whisper But even he heard her like not matter What he'd always Hear Her. He didn't say much just a nod of his head and keeping hold of her Hand bringing her up the stairs making sure to keep his promise.

The towns Men all glared as he was dragged towards the gate . Each one Of them wanted to hit the bastards Since some had women In their life some had daughters some had sister , some had experience of men Like him . Nigel knew he fucked up moment She ran and they showed up . He seen it on all their Faces like they Took it personal but the bitch needed manners , needed to be taught A lesson . He pleaded Said he'd make it up some how but was only told me like that don't changed . Bag on his back And out the gate he went .

“ I'll bring um out” mark called dragging him roughly along other probably sensing a beating coming But for a man like him , shit happened with wave of their hands stood waiting.

“ come on you” he growled as The other man gulped. Wondering if he could make some Sort of break for it.

“ just play along asshole” mark hissed. “ I'm helping you out here” those words Melt his fear away following man out dragging his steps to make it look good .

Once they were out of the hearing range mark let him go pulling a knife and gun out Handing them over. “ there's a camp couple Miles east leader is jonah , tell Him mark sent you from jackson And whatever you have on y/n and jackson , he'll set you up , don't tell um you touched er though he'll kill you on spot” mark spoke Quietly.

“ why y/n why should I believe All this?” Nigel eyes widened .

“ because jonah. Wants his wife back sent me here To do it but i needed get on their good side” he explain hastily . “ just tell him soon” he handed over gun and knife . Headed back into town as other waited . “ he’s gone , wont see that scum again” he smirked to the men and headed off to his house. Yeah he needed to get y/n back soon and now with nigel might be sooner than he thought lets hope the dipshit made it.

Part three

#tlou joel #the last of us joel #joelmiller #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tommy miller #maria miller #ellie williams #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic

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artbyblastweave · 5 months ago

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Hey, I just read this superhero series called Rising Stars. Have you heard of that before, and do you have any thoughts on it?

Personally I loved it. 113 children in utero get affected by the energy of a comet passing overhead, and start developing powers. They all get different levels of power, some never realise what their powers are, some just straight up suck.

Like there's a guy who's totally indestructible. But he's not and stronger or faster, he just can't be damaged. And he can't feel anything tactile either. So he over indulges in taste because it's one of the only sense he has, and ends up obese.

There's a girl with telekinesis, who can only manipulate small objects. The carotid artery is a small object, so she gets headhunted by the CIA for assassination work.

And then there's the reveal that their powers operate off a shared energy pool, and if one dies the remaining power gets shared among the remainder. And then people start turning up dead...

Rising Stars has been near and dear to my heart for a very long time. It's by no means perfect, but one of the things I find the most compelling about it is how it positions superhumanity as a fundamentally extremely finite phenomenon.

Works in which superpowers are introduced to a world that didn't previously have them will often break in one of two directions; either they'll treat it as a new, sustainable equilibrium that will somehow fail to change anything of import, or else it's a floodgate that opens and completely wipes away the status quo. But both scenarios generally take for granted that capes as a general phenomenon are here to stay- that there's some replacement-rate mechanism at play. Rising Stars depicts a world where this isn't true, and moreover it very quickly becomes clear to everyone that this isn't true- that these 113 people are the only superhumans the world is ever gonna get. That's enough to be extremely disruptive, but not necessarily paradigm shifting- and the worldbuilding reflects that in interesting ways, the sense that the reaction of many is just that they've gotta wait these assholes out.

Maybe some of them habitually dine-and-dash at upscale restaurants but what are you going to do, call the army every time? Not worth it. There's fewer than a hundred of these guys, it's not like letting it slide is going to be the start of something. One of them takes over Chicago and runs it as a fiefdom? Okay, that's bad, but it's one city and everyone else who's similarly inclined already rallied under her aegis, still not a paradigm shift. The entire containment strategy for the ones who are habitually supervillainous is to ring up one or two of the ones who decided to be superheroes and dump them in Antarctica, forcing them to walk back. Obviously not a great solution but what's the incentive to come up with something better? This isn't a growing population that demands a systemic response, it's the same six or seven guys every time, and you're only gonna have to put up with them for so long.

And the series really did a lot with the fact that these people all know each other- a small-town's graduating class worth of superhumans who all grew up together. The "oh, what's so-and-so up to these days" energy of it all. The comparable sense of wasted potential as you get into your late-twenties-early-thirties, take a look at what everyone you grew up with has been up to lately, and really seriously evaluate what it is, exactly, that you've actually accomplished with your life, compared to what you thought you were going to do when you were a teenager. The Specials don't even have the luxury of existing in a conventional superhero universe where their personal mediocrity (real or perceived) will come out in the wash due to all the other superpeople running around-they're wasting more than just their own individual lives through their inaction or failure, and the series milks that growing sense of rat-in-a-trap tension as their numbers start to really dwindle in earnest over the course of the comic.

#thoughts #meta #I gotta reread that #a lot of this is from memory and I haven't reread it in about five years #rising stars

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corazondebeskar-reads · 22 days ago

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fall, with you: part three - trick or treat

Joel Miller x gn! reader

main masterlist |mini-series masterlist | prev | epilogue

words: 1.4k

summary: who the hell trick or treats at the end of the world?

warnings: pre- and post-outbreak, death, cordyceps, loss, grief, outbreak day, fluff weaponized for angst

note: anything in italics is either during or post outbreak. everything else is pre-outbreak. this story is not told chronologically and skips around a lot. i'm experimenting for fun.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“It’s Halloween!” Sarah yells from the other side of the bedroom door. She had, unfortunately, learned a lesson about not barging in a couple months ago.

“It’s five in the morning,” Joel retorts, voice hoarse with sleep.

You love him when he first wakes up. You love him all the time, but this? Squinting, hair sticking every which way, looking more like he crawled out of a cave after hibernation than a nice six-hour snooze? He’s fucking gorgeous.

“On Halloween,” Sarah says. Her burgeoning teenage attitude is strong enough to filter in under the door.

“So what?” he mutters.

“So I gotta get to school early so we can do each other’s makeup,” she reminds him.

He groans. “Can’t y’all just do your own makeup?”

“Dad,” she groans. “You know Jessica’s mom doesn’t let her wear makeup.”

“So you’re aiding and abetting,” you say seriously to Joel before he shoves a pillow at you.

“Gimmie like… gimmie like fifteen minutes, baby girl,” he says as he flops back onto the bed, facedown into the mattress since you’ve yanked away his other ammo.

“What the fuck is Halloween, and why is the lady with the crazy eyes trying to get me excited about it?” Nate says, his backpack thumping against the dining room table where he drops it. Your dining room table. In your house.

You still don’t really understand it. It’s been two days and somehow you’re here, in a house, with this boy that is not your son, but maybe now he is because that’s how they’d written your names down in the register. And maybe he’s not your son, but you raised him in this awful excuse for a world, and you certainly hadn’t bothered to teach him about Halloween.

“What’re you talking about?” you say from where you’re staring at a cabinet full of dishes. Ceramic fucking dishes. It’s not quite a whole set, but there’s still more here than you ever had back in any of the QZs. You turn around to look at him. “Never mind, better question. What’re you wearing?”

“Someone painted my face,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

“Like… against your will?” you ask, biting back a laugh.

“Yes and no. I agreed because she wouldn’t shut up,” he says, flopping into one of the chairs. The chairs at your table. The table in your house. Where you live now, you guess, with this boy who isn’t your son.

You’ve only been here for two days, but you have a house, with a table, chairs, and a boy. Jackson is home to the real zombie apocalypse, you decide, having resurrected parts of a world long dead.

“Halloween, huh? Well, fuck me sideways. Never thought I’d hear about Halloween again,” you say.

“Five in the morning,” Joel grumbles uselessly. “Fuck me sideways, I guess.”

“Nah,” you say, nudging him with your shoulder. “I can do you one better than that.” You wink and slide down the mattress, settling in for your favorite way to wake him up. His favorite, too, if the wet spot on his sweatpants is any indicator of how fast he’s gotten on board with your plan.

“Who wouldn’t shut up?” you ask.

“This girl Ellie. She’s like my age and says that since we’re gay orphans we have to stick together. Which, so far, means she tries to boss me around.”

You snort. “Gay orphan solidarity, huh?” But it makes something warm spread through your chest. Two days and he’s already making friends. Reluctantly or not. To be fair, you tried to socialize him. Signed him up for FEDRA schools in every QZ. The problem was that the stupid zones grew less and less secure every day, and the goddamn Fireflies turned neighborhoods into war zones. It’s not that they were wrong, FEDRA fucking sucks, but they kept driving you to flee in the middle of the night.

Maybe that wouldn’t be a problem, now. No FEDRA, no Fireflies. Just people trying to do right by each other, which wasn’t a sentiment you thought had survived the outbreak.

“She wants me, or us, to go trick or treating?”

You snort. “They got candy here?”

He furrows his brow. “What’s candy?”

“Go on, now,” Joel says, rolling his eyes and giving Sarah a little nudge. “And don’t forget to get some KitKats for your old man.”

“Get your own candy, old man” Sarah says, giggling and running up the sidewalk. She’s Rapunzel this year, complete with frying pan. It’s hit the ground several times already, making Joel cringe.

Nate’s fellow "gay orphan" friend, Ellie, is a nice kid. A little rough around the edges with a wild look in her eyes, but that’s not a bad thing. She’s tough but tender, a sentiment you know well. Nate’s had to leave every friend he’s ever made behind, and you find yourself hoping that won’t be true here.

When they get to a particular house, Ellie doesn’t knock, just opens the door and goes in.

“What happened to trick or treat?” says the woman you met on arrival in Jackson. Mary? Martha?

“Gotta use the bathroom, sorry Maria,” Ellie says over her shoulder, not sounding sorry at all.

Maria shakes her head fondly and looks to you. “Come in, you don’t have to wait out there. She dragging you all over town?”

You nod and give her a cautious, gracious smile. “The full tour, she called it.”

Maria leads you into the next room and gestures at the sofa. “I’m glad to see you’re settling in,” she says. But as you enter the room, you’re stopped, frozen, in front of the mantle.

Your eyes are blurry. They must be, because you’d know that jersey anywhere. That face. That smile. But that’s impossible, this is impossible. This photo can’t be here. Practically across the country. You took that photo. You’d know it anywhere.

Sarah, laughing. A blue Gatorade in one hand, spilling haphazardly. Just out of frame is Joel, grinning stupidly as he pretends to recoil from her, sweaty and smelly after the game. Of course, he’d hugged her just moments later. You took a picture of that, too.

“Maria… why do you…” you have to take a shaky breath. “Why d’you have a picture of my… Sarah?”

The woman in question sits up straight suddenly. “Your Sarah?”

“Oh shit,” Ellie says on an exhale.

“I mean… I guess she… just answer the damn question,” you say, suddenly angry. “Why the fuck do you have this picture, Maria?”

But you already know. There’s really only one answer. When in doubt, the simplest thing is often right.

“What’d you say your husband's name was?” you interrupt whatever she was saying.

“I didn’t. His name is Tommy. Tommy—”

“Sorry about him. That’s my brother. Tommy.”

“Miller,” you whisper.

“Uncle Tommy!”

The world drops out from under you. Or, it would have, if Nate hadn’t seen it coming and caught you, arms under yours. You steady yourself, a hand on his shoulder to assure him you’re not going to black out.

“Shut up, Tommy.”

Instead, you sit down, criss-cross-applesauce, right there on her living room floor in front of the fireplace.

“Sorry to wake you up, Sugar. Tommy called; I gotta go get him.”

A tender kiss — and another, and another. Lips, nose, forehead.

A longing look you didn’t know would be the last.

“Your husband is Tommy Miller,” you repeat, but it sounds like your voice is coming from underwater somewhere nearby.

“You knew them.”

You don’t need to answer. Which is good, because you can’t. You’re shaking, and you only realize how out of control this has gotten when you see Nate’s dark eyes wide with worry.

“Oh shit,” Ellie repeats.

“Ellie, why don’t you and Nate get back out there? We’ll find you,” Maria says. Ellie tries to steer Nate out of the room, but he won’t leave your side, brushing her hand away.

“I’m sorry,” Maria says. The tone is all you need to hear. The condolences, the understanding of what this world has taken, keeps taking.

“They’re gone,” you say. Your throat is suddenly so dry, cracking, strained. In truth, you had accepted it long ago. Because the chances? They just weren’t good. And even if they had lived, you knew that survival was hard to come by in this world. Hope had no place here. So you grieved. And oh, had you grieved.

“He’s not dead,” Maria says. “Just Sarah. Joel is… well, he’s here. In Jackson.”

You stare at her for a good fifty seconds before you do the only thing left in your brain.

On shaky legs, you get to your feet, and you bolt.

Oop. Sorry. there’s going to be one more part (an epilogue). My brain said so. I don’t make the rules, I just work here.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller fic #tlou fic #fic: fall with you

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