#she lives rent free in my head i fear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lokis-army-77 · 1 year ago

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OK, so I know I *could* write this, but my WIPs are ridiculous, and you wrote Demon Eddie so well that he lives rent free in my head.

I was thinking Incubis Eddie, where reader thinks shes just having very horny dreams with this thing, and then he visits her when he thinks she's asleep but she's not...

Feel free to add your own flavours, or ignore this horny thot entirely up to you babe x

Hunger

Incubus!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2k

A demon awaits you in your room when you arrive home from a night out.

Warning: 18 +. multiple orgasms, some licking (f reviving), fingering (vaginal and anal), CNC?, some hair pulling, blood.

And thank you to @lofaewrites for beta reading 💗

Masterlist

He had started showing up in the dark corners of your room only a month ago. It was after you had watched some horror movie with a friend and instead of being afraid like every normal person in the theater, you were turned on.

In the dreams you had of him, you weren't scared either even when he came into the light and bared his two rows of needle-sharp teeth, even when his horns made him appear taller and the wings stretching from his bare back made him look broader.

Each night he visited you was another wonderful exploration of your wants and desires. You couldn't get enough of him and when you woke only to find that the pleasure and the pain had all been a dream, you sulked to yourself as you missed the feel of those long, clawed fingers scratching at your skin.

You had come home way later than you usually would on a weeknight. Only coming through your front door at around three in the morning. A long-time friend of yours had gotten married and the reception had gone on longer than you would have liked. The bride and groom had left at around twelve but the party raged on without them. You called it quits when the ache in your feet could no longer be ignored and instead of conversation, all you could do was yawn.

Trudging through your front door you kick your shoes off and throw your bag onto the table in the entryway. You’re exhausted and all you want is to go to bed.

As you walk through your house, everything seems normal, until you flip the lights on in your bedroom. You freeze when you see it. A dark mass by the head of your bed bent over and pulling at the clumped-up sheets.

The creature whips around, its hair falling into its face as it growled. Its wings spread out to make itself look bigger and it bared its rows of sharp teeth. You take a step back, fear gripping onto you. But then, as you look at the strange form, you are met with a familiar feeling. This wasn’t a strange creature, no it was what visited you in your dreams.

Confusion fell over you then. He was just a dream. He wasn’t real so why were you seeing him in your room? You don’t remember falling asleep anywhere. Shaking your head, you pinch your arm, thinking it might wake you up like it does in the movies but all you feel is the sharp pain it brings to your forearm.

Cautiously, you take a step forward, hands out, showing the creature you didn’t intend to do anything rash. “Hello,” you speak softly. His eyes slit as he stares at you. “Uh.. what are you doing here?” You ask. He had never really talked to you in your dreams before but it didn't hurt to try.

“You aren’t supposed to be awake.” He answers, voice deep.

You take a deep breath. "What do you mean?" you ask.

He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. "You know what I mean."

When he steps toward you, you step back, only to run into the door. Where there should have been a sense of dread, there was only a spark. A tingling sensation coiling up inside of you the closer he came.

He reaches out his hand, claw-like nails giving him a more sinister look, and brushes back the strands of your hair that had fallen out of the updo you had been wearing for the wedding. You shiver when you feel his nails tickle your skin.

You can feel your heart beating faster as he shuffles closer to you, his larch body towering over yours. A gasp leaves you when he unexpectedly grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Your voice wavers as he walks you over to the bed and throws you down. Your body bounces at the force and once you settle, you try to back away from him.

He huffs, frustrated. “You aren’t this much of a hassle when you’re sleeping.” He takes hold of your ankle and drags you back down the bed. You try to wriggle free, but he is too strong. He grabs the other ankle and pulls you towards him, trapping you between his body and the mattress. He presses his body against yours, his hands roaming over you.

You can’t help the flood of arousal that washes over you as you struggle against him. He’s smirking like this is a game to him and it’s only making you more flustered.

Leaning down, his lips press into yours and his tongue slips inside your mouth. It’s forked, just like in your dreams, but now, with what little he’s said, you wonder if they were really dreams at all.

The kiss is fierce, full of strong emotions and wandering hands. He tugs on your dress and you can hear the fabric beginning to tear. You try to pull away and to stop him but he’s so much stronger than you.

You feel the needle-sharp tips of his teeth nip you, drawing blood from your bottom lip. He laps it up, humming at the metallic taste. Your fingers drag lines over his back and sides as you fall deeper into the feral, primal instincts now controlling you.

His hardened length can be felt pressing into your thigh as he ruts into you. His kisses are rough and desperate, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pulls you closer. He whispers in your ear, "Let me take what I need and I will let you sleep.”

You’re nodding before you can stop yourself. The growing need for him is too much to resist now.

The creature hums, satisfied at your submission. Soon, your dress is finally ripped off of you, along with your undergarments. You are left completely bare to him, nipples pebbling in the cool air of your room and thighs snapping shut at being so exposed.

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest and he’s quick to open your legs up. Long, deft fingers trail down your exposed skin, goosebumps coming up in their wake. He takes his time, coaxing you into a more relaxed state with gentle caresses and warm lips sucking marks into your skin.

“Ah.” A moan leaves you when you feel him bite at your collarbone. Tiny pinpricks that draw the smallest amount of blood. His tongue laved over the wound and he let out a groan.

His hand finally reaches between your legs and you let out a cry of relief when his thumb rubs over your clit. His other hand moves up to cup your breast, his fingers teasing your nipple. His mouth moves over your neck and he whispers in your ear, “You are so sensitive.” His fingers slid through the wetness faster over your clit.

Your hips move in tandem with his hand, bucking and writhing. He lets you take what you need. His fingers move faster still as you begin to moan and gasp. His other hand moves down to your hip and grips as your body jerks with each wave of pleasure. “Fuck-” you breathe. You can feel the all-too-familiar sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it. Give it to me.” He whispers into your ear as your back arches and your toes curl.

Your breath hitches as your body tenses. Your voice breaks and you cry out in pleasure as you reach your peak. His grip tightens as you collapse onto the bed.

The creature moans into your neck and he keeps rubbing his fingers into you, slowly moving them down from your clit to circle around your soaking-wet entrance. You whimper in his strong grip.

“Please,” you gasp. He doesn’t stop, he pushes two of his fingers into you, pulling a wail from your lungs. You are clamping down around him, cunt practically sucking his fingers.

There are squelching sounds coming from the fluid motion of his fingers roughly bounding into you. Your pleas and moans accompany the sounds and it’s like music to the creature's ears.

He fingers you with abandon, pushing and pulling with force and speed. Your orgasm builds with each thrust of his fingers, your pleasure becoming more intense with each passing second. Your body goes rigid in his hold and as you cum for a second time.

“No more,” you mumble, spent and exhausted.

You hear him chuckle, “I’m not done with you, pet.”

When his fingers leave your used cunt, a whine leaves you at the loss and you feel yourself clamping down around nothing. He is turning you onto your stomach before you know it. Your head is buried in the sheets and your body lies like a board.

With closed eyes, you can only assume what he is doing behind you as you feel his body atop your own. Thick fingers push apart the fat of your ass to expose you. The tickle of his hair as he leans down to lick a thick stripe from your pussy to the tight ring of your ass makes you twitch, a small bit of exhausted laughter pushing through you.

He pulls back and you can feel his thumb toying with your ass, circling and pushing in just slightly. He has moved to his legs are on either side of your closed thighs. You can feel the hardness of his cock resting along the seam of where your legs meet. He’s hot and leaking pre-cum.

Wiggling your hips, you encourage him to keep going. He then guides his cock closer, pressing the tip through the sticky wetness and into your waiting pussy.

You moan into the bed at the stretch, hands gripping the sheets. He’s so big that he makes you feel so full without being completely inside you.

He keeps pushing into you, grunting and hissing at the feel of your cunt spasming around him. Once he is fully sheathed inside you he begins to piston his hips. In and out in and out. He’s fucking you at a brutal pace. Giving you pleasure but also taking what he wants from you.

His thumb is still circling your ass but as he keeps going, he finally pushes past your tight rim. You cry out into the open air of your bedroom. His thumb is thick and stretches you open where you have never been stretched before.

“Fuck, yes.” You mumble into the sheets below.

He grins. “You like that pet? Like when I use this pretty ass?”

You nod, hair tangling under your face as you do. “Yes, yes, yes.” It's the only word you can get out of your mouth.

Listening to your words he begins to thrust his thumb in and out of you at the same unwaveringly fast pace that his hips have set.

You can’t help the guttural groan you let out. It’s all becoming too much. So many sensations are filling your body, some familiar and others new. The strings of your orgasm have been pulled taut and are slowly breaking one by one. Your fists clench and your legs spasm. The creature reaches to your head and pulls on your hair at the base of your neck. Your head is forced up and with a half cry half moan, you cum around him as he releases thick stream after thick stream into you.

As he keeps himself buried within you, he leans down and bites at your ear before speaking. “I may have to visit you when you are awake again, pet. You take me so well.”

He pulls out and moves away, fast and unexpectedly, leaving you to drop, spent, and used on the bed. You turn slowly to look for him but your eyes find him nowhere in your room. It was empty, he had vanished into thin air.

Soon he will return, hunger no longer sated by the sexual energy that you have given him tonight.

#incubus!eddie munson #demon!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #fem reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

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ratretro · 1 month ago

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The reason I love ivantill is not because it's mlm (which seems to be something that the fandom is getting heated about right now) it's because of the yearning, the desperation and the deep unrequited affection and obsession Ivan has for Till. The tragedy of their parting just cuts so much deeper for me than mizisua does.

Mizisua is reciprocated and it's one of the reasons why I can't blame Ivan for calling Sua selfish. In his eyes, Sua has what he wants AND she knows what her death will do. Sua just can't bear to live without Mizi so she'd rather be the stepping stone that allows Mizi a chance to live. She does this knowing full well that Mizi has no idea that Sua is going to die in her place. It is inherently a selfish choice but it is also, in its own way, intrinsically romantic, beautiful and tragic.

Ivan's sacrifice is tragic. That's it. You can't say there was anything intrinsically romantic and beautiful in the way he died for Till. Ivan sang with so much desperation to get Till to look his way. To try and get Till to pay attention and what he got instead was Till simply giving up. Almost as if he couldn't be bothered to even acknowledge Ivan's existence within those moments on the stage. And Ivan just wanted him to look at him one more time without him having to force it. Because Till only looks at him if Ivan gives him a reason to.

They don't have a proper duet and you can't say their final moments together were even gentle excluding that final kiss (more like a peck). Everything about Ivan's sacrifice is tragic. It's not romantic or beautiful; it's desperate. It's a man who couldn't even get the man he loves to look at him until the very last second but still can't stand the idea of living without him.

Mizisua was heartbreaking to see and watching Mizi lose it against Luka physically hurt, but there's nothing quite like the truly tragic sacrifice of Ivan, who remained unloved to the bitter end.

I exist to suffer I fear.

It's even worse if you look at the lyrics for Black Sorrow.

Sometimes, I wonder if Ivan sang this song knowing that this was also going to be how their story ended?

Anyways, that's why ivantill lives in my head rent free.

#ivantill #alnst #alnst ivan #alnst till #mostly ivantill but a crumb of mizisua #like if we get ivan flashbacks in round 7 ill die #itll be my 13th reason fr fr #rat queue

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 27 days ago

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The TTPD Deep Dive (Part ?)

It’s no secret that I have a lot of Thoughts about The Tortured Poets Department and it has lived rent-free in my head since it came out earlier this year. I’m absolutely blown away by how underneath the chaos, it’s actually an exceptionally cohesive story and is probably the closest to a concept album Taylor has ever done.

There are so many themes that have stood out to me over the last five months, and there’s one in particular that I think not only drives the entire album, but ties into previous albums to help deepen understanding of it.

This is it, my fangirl magnum opus, my months of posts consolidated into one place. This is also my disclaimer that this is just my interpretation of the album, and my summary of the story it tells, and I don’t pretend to have any special insight or authority. I’m not saying I’m correct at all, do not take any of this as fact, it’s just what it sounds like to me, and these are my silly not-so-little thoughts about it.

(Under a cut because it’s way too long and involves discussion many may not care for or be sick of.)

Come one, come all, it's happening again (I'm thinking too hard about Taylor music)

The overarching theme in TTPD to me is: Grief. If you’re looking at TTPD as a story being told (instead of just as someone’s real life), the inciting incident of TTPD is loss, and the grief from that loss is what drives the narrator’s actions and the fallout, as well as unpacks those complicated feelings and how they apply to the her life in general. By the end of the standard album, it’s also about recovering from that pain, moving on from it and learning from it.

The loss specifically is the loss of the dream of having a family (with one’s partner). One thing that is abundantly clear both on the top line and under the surface in TTPD is how Taylor (as a person and as narrator) longed not only to for marriage but specifically parenthood, and the fear and then realization of losing that chance absolutely wrecked her— which is why the next lover’s (the conman's) wooing worked so well, because it preyed on that yearning. Yet that loss also dovetails into the grief of many things: of youth, of idealism, of relationships, of ideas, even of self, which causes almost a deconstruction of a belief system to piece one’s life back together by the end.

THE CONTEXT

TTPD weaves in the topics of marriage and motherhood both explicitly and in the subtext, in various forms and scenarios. The cheating husband in “Fortnight.” The wedding ring line in “TTPD” the song. “He saw forever so he smashed it up” in “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys.” All of “So Long, London.” Running away with her wild boy in “But Daddy I Love Him,” fantasizing about weddings and joking about babies. The imaginary rings in “Fresh Out The Slammer.” The cheating husband (again) and the friends who smell like weed or “little babies” in “Florida!!!” “You and I go from one kiss to getting married,” “Talking rings and talking cradles,” and “our field of dreams engulfed in fire” in “loml.” (And arguably: “I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all.”) “He said he’d love me all his life, but that life was too short,” in “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart.” They may not sound like much on their own, but they paint a picture about how the topics pervaded her thoughts and her writing, and in many cases express her desires, and her pain.

It’s something that goes back several albums when you pick up on context clues. You get the first hints on Reputation with “New Year’s Day,” and “you and me forevermore.” Then Lover is very forward with it: “Lover” is basically wedding vows, “Paper Rings” is very engagement-coded, “I Think He Knows” is cheeky but low-key “you better put a ring on it,” “It’s Nice To Have A Friend” has wedding/marriage imagery in the last verse. As a self-professed diaristic writer, it’s the type of stuff one presumably doesn’t put out there unless those conversations have already happened, and she was very excited about it at the time it was released.

Then the pandemic happens and folklore comes out, and while there is still happy love there (“invisible string”), there are also the first indications that something has happened to put a halt to whatever future she once dreamed of (“hoax,” “the lakes”) and that she’s trying to reassure herself and him that it can still happen even if she’s scared it might not (“peace”). Notably, as far as I can remember it’s the first time Taylor explicitly brings up the idea of family (with her partner) with “you know that I’d give you my wild, give you a child,” which stood out at the time because it’s so incredibly vulnerable, but it’s even more poignant when you really take in that the whole song is like a confession of her deepest worries, and this is her vowing to give him these things that she holds most sacred if he’ll let her. These are what she cherishes most dearly and wants to return in kind: her youth and commitment (my wild), the family she craves (a child), unconditional support (swing for the fences/sit in the trenches) and understanding/compassion (silence that only comes when two people know each other).

Evermore follows an even darker path, and suddenly the album explores relationships that end and grappling with loss. There are toxic relationships (“tolerate it”), dangerous marriages (“no body, no crime,” “ivy”), failing/broken relationships (“Coney Island,” “champagne problems,” “happiness,” “‘tis the damn season”), as well as grief (“Marjorie,” “evermore”). Even some of the happy songs have uncertainty in them: in “willow” she’s begging for him to take her lead, like she’s still trying to decipher him and ask him to commit; in “cowboy like me,” still a beautiful love song, she’s thinking, “this wasn’t supposed to work and we were supposed to bail on each other but we fell in love instead”; “evermore” is about the depths of severe depression (and more) with the love story being the one saving grace in her darkest hour. And it’s also notable that after all the “fiction” writing, shortly after this album she writes “Renegade” where she’s telling the subject: I’m ready to start the next phase of our life now, why aren’t you? Is it me you don’t want after all? It’s like there’s something telling her that this stall might not just be a stall.

Midnights is a jumble (in a good, but in hindsight, also sad way) with the “sleepless nights” concept, but it seems pretty clear now that the themes and events and relationships she was revisiting tied into a lot of what she was feeling in her present life. I wrote the cliff notes version awhile back, but she’s questioning so much of her life that’s reflected in past events and relationships. Am I actually always the problem? How did we lose sight of each other and what we had? We only seem to work when we block out everyone and everything else. Can we ever go back to when things were good? Why are you neglecting me? I once thought I was going to lose everything but you saved me in the nick of time, can that happen again? I chased my career, but did I give up my chance at having a family in the process? Nobody knows what I really suffer from behind closed doors and I’m all alone.

And so on, which in retrospect now that we have TTPD, is very much what she was grappling with in private while writing and releasing the album. The inspiration behind the songs may have been different events and muses, but regardless of their origins they all end up feeling too familiar, like she's seen this film before (ahem). We’re seeing her view of commitment change too, or rather how she writes about it: she’s not making the outright declarations of it like on Lover, or even the implied ones on folklore, nor is she talking of the dark side of it like evermore. For the most part it’s a return to the early days of some relationships, before things got hard, or the end of them when there was nothing left, and also pushing away the discussion of it altogether by the outside world. “Sweet Nothing” is a sweet slice of life, but even at that, it’s the peace of the home in conflict with the pressure of the outside world. Now that we have “You’re Losing Me,” which was written at the same time as the rest of the album, we can probably deduce that she was going back to the start because something happened that made her doubt the future.

THE SETUP

So much of Midnights directly ties into TTPD, and I said in the post I linked that it’s like Midnights is asking the questions that TTPD answers. But there’s one song in particular on Midnights that sticks out to me as being key in the broadest sense to understanding the state of mind that led to the events of TTPD, and that’s “Bigger Than The Whole Sky,” because the way it expresses grief is reflected in the theme of mourning a life built and the dreams along with it that are never realized in TTPD. There are several instances in TTPD that are basically variations of: “every single thing to come has turned into ashes,” and that’s what makes her snap, and leaves her vulnerable to someone who promises her those things when she’s bereaved at losing them in the first place. (In other words: “the deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling.”) The song tells a story about how that loss of hope colours one’s entire mindset, and in some ways is a bridge to TTPD to understand what such a low point feels like.

I think that that grief, and most importantly losing hope for an imagined future in its wake, is fundamental to understanding TTPD on so many levels: both the decline with one partner that kept her hanging on then led her such a dark path, and why she fell for the conman's apparent bullshitting because it offered an express pass to what she was losing with her partner. And I also feel like it plays a part into the ruminating she’s doing all over Midnights, trying to make sense of where she finds herself when she’s writing the album, which directly leads to “You’re Losing Me.” Loss permeates so many of the stories on Midnights: of lovers, of innocence, of youth, of faith, of control, of life’s work, etc. “BTTWS” is just one of the ways in which it is expressed so fully, capturing that deep depression and subsequent extinction of faith in something that once felt assured and very much wanted. (Which is also mentioned in her writing process in the “Depression” playlist on Apple Music.)

If you understand why that feeling of loss in general across so many parts of life is so important to Midnights, then it illuminates so much about the “narrative” in TTPD too. If on Midnights she’s wrestling with the seeds of grief and loss (on multiple fronts), TTPD is her reckoning with it in its full form. “So Long, London” is the song that is the most explicit about it: How much sad did you think I had in me? How much tragedy? Just how low did you think I’d go before I’d have to go be free? You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof. It’s the sequel to “You’re Losing Me.” It’s, the air is thick with loss and indecision, I know my pain is such an imposition, I’m getting tired even for a phoenix, all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier, I’ve got nothing left to believe unless you’re choosing me, my heart won’t start anymore, but from the other side of the break.

This is highly speculative, but if you follow the thread about the topic and the relationship as told from Rep through TTPD, in broad strokes it goes: young love with a serious connection (Rep) -> growing up and making life plans (Lover) -> something happens that delays those plans or makes them grind to a halt (folklore) -> serious doubts arise and cause a loss of faith in their future (evermore) -> struggling with the loss of that future and trying to make sense of the problems in a last ditch attempt to save the relationship (Midnights) -> fallout from that grief after the blowup of the relationship (TTPD). Understanding that progression of events (through the music) explains not only the storytelling side of TTPD (e.g. the jump from the partner to the conman) but also how the experiences/muses blend in the music, and how the music that on the surface is about the short-term relationship is really driven by the destruction of the long-term one.

Following the music, it’s IMO implied that Taylor (the narrator) was holding out for marriage and family with her partner, for years, and it seems like it was at one point a shared dream until something happened to pump the brakes, and seemingly on her partner’s end. And extrapolating further, given how the sorrow expressed in former albums bleeds into TTPD, it sounds like a plan that had been concrete in some form before it had fallen apart, and losing something that once felt so tangible is what drives her in her grief to find any kind of respite from the pain. Which is why the situation with the conman becomes so appealing as the one with the partner splinters further and further.

(If everything you’ve once touched is sick with sadness and you don’t want to be sad anymore, what are you left to do?)

THE STORY

So (one part of) the story kind of sounds like this from the standard album: the relationship with her partner as well as his mental health slowly deteriorate and he withdraws emotionally (“London,” “Fresh Out The Slammer”) and physically (again, “London,” and “Guilty As Sin?”) and takes his resentment out on her (“London” and arguably “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” even though I don't want to get into muse speculation here). As she sinks deeper into her own depression as a result, the weight of the failing relationship starts feeling like a cage— or a noose (“London,” “Guilty”), but coming to terms with the loss of their life together and the future they’d dreamed of was killing her (again, “London,” but also “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart”).

Enter the conman who she reconnects with at the very point where this is coming to a head (knowing that IRL she reconnected with him around the time Midnights was being worked on) , and if you read between the lines, she confides some deeply personal things to him (“Down Bad” and “hostile takes overs”/“encounters closer and closer,” “Smallest Man” and the entire sleeper cell spy imagery which is one of my favourite things and I could write a whole essay about the meaning of it, “loml” and “A con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme”). Then after she’s confided these secrets to him, he insinuates himself back into her life (“Guilty,” “Down Bad,” “Smallest Man”) and sells her a dream that HE can give her all these things she hopes for (again, “Down Bad,” “Smallest Man,” “loml,” song “TTPD,” “Broken Heart”).

But the thing is, he only knows these are the things she wants because she’s revealed it to him, and presumably, told him that was what she was losing by staying with her partner. And instead of the normal response of, “that is really sad that your partner is not supporting you and you deserve to be treated better,” to a friend in growing distress, it seems like it was, “well I can give you all those things!!!! Right now!!!! Trust me!!!!” And worked on her until she believed it, and jumped at the chance at a precarious time in her life. And one thing I want to underscore is: Taylor has agency in the situation always, it’s not like she’s been kidnapped and brainwashed. (In fact, she implores on songs like “But Daddy” that SHE is in charge of her own choices, good or bad.) She chose to rekindle the friendship and then relationship, and she chose to eventually leave her long term relationship for another man, and she reiterates on the album that she owns this all. But it’s also: nothing exists in a vacuum, and she makes choices based on emotions and information she has at the time, which is why it gives so much whiplash.

THE ALBUM

When you look at it as, the situation with the conman only happens because of what happened with the partner first and that the appeal of the conman and the fantasy he sells her is a direct reaction to that, it makes the “swirliness” of the music make so much more sense. And for much of it, even many of the “conman” songs on the surface are really “partner” songs underneath.

Fortnight

A suburban gothic allegory about a broken marriage with a distant husband with a wandering eye, which makes the rekindled romance with the neighbor so appealing. She’s miserable caged in her stifling house because she’s been abandoned by her spouse, so the reappearance of this past love reignites the passion that’s dead at home.

TTPD

“So tell me, who else is gonna know me?” “I chose this cyclone with you.” I’m gonna kill myself if you ever leave. Everyone knows we’re crazy. She’s laying it out there that she’s already in a dangerous state of mind, and she’s actively putting herself in more danger by pursuing the conman. “At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on, and that’s the closest I’ve come to my heart exploding,” spells this whole thing out so clearly: whether it’s an actual event (likely) or a metaphor for the promise he makes to her, the reason why it makes her heart explode is because it’s the thing she’s been waiting for forever with no movement, and here this person comes in and slips it on her finger in an instant like it’s nothing. (And eventually, as we’ll come to know, it is absolutely nothing to him.) You mean it could have been this easy this whole time?! (Well, no. Not until a certain other suitor makes his appearance later.) It feels like she’s finally getting everything she wanted in the blink of an eye! How lucky! How convenient! What was that about the get-love-quick scheme you say? (Unsaid: the reason why this feels so urgent is because there’s a sense that time is running out in so many aspects of her life and not just the obvious. Which reappears later on.)

Down Bad

“Did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust just to do experiments on?” sets the scene for this euphoric experience in the moment that starts to feel violating once the dust settles (which is then followed up in “Smallest Man” and the spy mission on her). The bridge spells out how he weaselled his way into her life, preyed upon (intentionally or not) her emotional state, sold her a dream and then vanished, without the benefit of hindsight yet we see later in the album.

The alien abduction metaphor is pretty brilliant, because it shows both how she was desperate to escape the place she found herself in, and how much it screwed her brain to then be left stranded when the affair was over. “[I loved your] hostile takeovers, encounters closer and closer,” is so evocative because it details how the situation came to be: his overtures under the guise of friendship blurred lines until he made her an offer that she eventually couldn’t refuse (hostile takeovers) as he infiltrated her life more and more intimately. The sad thing is that the song has parallels to how her relationship with the partner started too in earlier albums, in that they ran away to live in their own bubble (or planet) only for him to metaphorically abandon her as the years went on. (Oven, meet microwave.)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Being continually emotionally broken down by a person who knows he’s hurting you but still acts the way he does. (The original voice memo version makes this even clearer and it’s rather heartbreaking.) “He saw forever so he smashed it up,” speaks to the loss of a future the person became scared of, and the original lyrics (“he saw forever so he blew it up”) somehow cut even deeper to me because it feels so much more intentional.

Also in the original version, “he was my best friend and that was the worst part,” also speaks not only to the loss of an entire partnership in the wake of this hurt, but also to the feelings of betrayal that the person you trust so deeply has the ability to hurt you in this way too, and how it’s a one-two punch of not only losing the relationship but also your closest confidant. (It’s like the sequel to “Renegade” and the missiles firing to me.) Again, there are shades of both/many situations in the song, pointing to an unfortunate pattern in some ways. The situation in “My Boy” is part of why she was so low, and why the “get love quick scheme” was so appealing later on. And it dovetails nicely into…

So Long, London

The most explicitly “partner” song that puts a coda on “You’re Losing Me,” and is Track 5 because it’s the emotional underpinning of how she got to where she was, and drives the events of the rest of the album. It spells everything out: He withdrew, she tried to fix it for both of them, eventually even that stopped working, he was oblivious to or minimized how badly she was suffering and his (in)actions couldn’t reassure her, he wouldn’t move forward on their future plans and stewed in his own struggles, she was spiralling out of control trying to hang on and ultimately felt like she was going to die if she didn’t leave.

But Daddy I Love Him

Like a direct reaction to “So Long, London” in that she breaks free from the death of one relationship and throws herself with reckless abandon to the next, fuck the haters. How dare you judge me, when the relationship you think I should have stayed in was killing me? (Dutiful daughter all the plans were laid. All you want is gray for me.) Fuck all of you, I’m going to choose whoever I want! (So what if I have a baby with HIM, huh?! I tried doing it the proper way and look where that got me so now we're back to square one) It’s again her imagining how wonderful and freeing this “wild boy” is going to be for her, and how wrong she’ll prove everyone. THIS TIME she definitely got it right. So what if she has to run away! So what if she scandalizes the whole town! They don’t know what she really wants or needs anyway! She’s the only one of her (hee-hee-hee) and she’s the only who gets to decides how this goes. (Because: she longs for control in a situation she’ll eventually realize she has little of it in, which we’ll find out is a recurring theme in her life.)

Fresh Out The Slammer

Also spells out what happened with the partner in the first verse and the pre-choruses, which is what makes the conman so appealing as the imagined jailbreak. The bitter loneliness vs. the sultry passion she builds up in her head as she awaits her release from prison is key to understanding the two sides of the story in the album. There’s this whole outlaw imagery (which is also carried through in “I Can Fix Him”), but it’s contrasted in the end with her and her reunited lover sitting on park swings like children with “imaginary rings” — because “Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake.” What’s at stake is lasting love and the promises that come with it (marriage/family) that are precious and time-sensitive. The imaginary rings are both a nod to the youthful dreams of her and her new/old lover, but also has a double meaning to me because those promises aren’t built on anything together; they're made up, intangible. (They’re no more concrete than the plans that went up in smoke with the partner.) Like with most of the conman situation, it’s all a fantasy in her head that has yet to happen, and as we find out later in the album, reality ends up leaving much to be desired.

Florida!!!

Broadly speaking, it’s running away from your problems and wanting to disappear from your life. (But again: the life she’s disappearing from is the cheating husband she may or may not be feeding to the swamp-- another miserable marriage.) What kind of flies under the radar though is the “I don’t want to exist,” line, which points to her dire state of mind that led her to fleeing to that metaphorical timeshare down in Destin. In many ways about cheating death.

Guilty As Sin

Yes it’s the “masturbation song,” but again the nuance is that she’s left to pleasure herself because her partner has abandoned her emotionally and even physically, i.e. “my boredom’s bone deep.” To be blunt: they aren’t even intimate anymore, so she starts fantasizing about the guy she used to have chemistry with who’s reentered her life and is making moves on her. And realizing that she’s now finding release in another man (albeit imaginary) breaks her even as it reinvigorates her because she finally understands that the relationship she’s in is effectively dead. (“Am I allowed to cry?”)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me

This isn’t about relationships, but about society and its reaction to them in a general sense. But again, she’s left to stew in all this anger and hurt as she’s been abandoned at home, then abandoned by public opinion, and the public attack on her is part of the origin as well as the end of that story. The trauma inflicted upon her detailed in the song is the reason why she felt trapped in the first place, which led to the decisions she’s made and habits she’s leaned on ever since.

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

This is one of the few songs that is the most completely conman-coded, and shows when the delusion finally breaks at the end of the song. She spends the whole song being like, “no really, I alone can make him better! You’ll see! I know he’s gross, but he’s mine! It’ll be fine I swear! You don’t know anything! Uuuuuum hmm wait actually what the fuck—“

Loml

Oof. THE song. Again the surface reading is about the “conman” who comes in and sells her the lie, but the pain is because all the dreams she writes about are HER dreams and implied that they were the dreams she built with her partner that the conman sold back to her. I could do a deeper dive on this but most of the song is applicable to both relationships, which not only shows the “swirliness” of her writing, but also how they both ultimately did the same thing to her in different shades.

The bridge and the last chorus are kind of fundamental to understanding it all, and her ending it with “you’re the loss of my life” is about, among other things, how falling for this trap blew up the life she built and dreamed of for good. (I could talk about this one forever.) “You shit-talked me under the table, talking rings and talking cradles” to “Our field of dreams engulfed in fire” is a hell of a line and progression, and again, indicative of what the real driving force behind the whole album is. The shit-talking is because he took her dreams (of marriage and children) and hyped it back up to her tenfold whether in a moment of his own delusion or for more nefarious reasons — much like how the man prior kept promising these things but never followed through, which left her vulnerable to someone who appeared to offer them enthusiastically. The field of dreams isn’t just the one with the conman, it’s the one with the longterm relationship she’d built the dream with in the first place, because the conman’s actions are part of the reason the LTR went up in smoke. (Not the reason for the rift, but the consequence of the final break.) And THAT is why it’s the loss of her life, so completely.

When she says “I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all,” IMO it’s not just the fake future that the conman lures her into, but also (and perhaps mainly) the once-real one she had with her partner and the loss of which that made her susceptible to falling for the con in the first place. There’s honestly so much between the lines in this song that covers every theme and speaks to the grief of seeing the life she imagined slip away, slowly by the first man then annihilated by the second.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

The juxtaposition of “He said he’d love me all his life, but that life was too short” and “He said he’d love me for all time, but that time was quite short” sums it up to me (and parallels “loml”), because they are two different situations, but they cut her just the same. In the first, “that life” IMO was the life they’d built with the dreams that went along with it and it was too short because he never followed through, and in the second, the “time” was quite short because it was the frenzy of the whirlwind romance that fizzled as quickly as it began. The life that was too short led to the time that was quite short.

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

This is definitely THE conman song. The rage, the shame, the violation, it’s all in there. But the key to it is the bridge and the espionage imagery woven through it. A honeypot scheme is when spies target a mark and seduce them to gain their trust and their privileged information for their homeland. So her likening him to a sleeper cell spy who set her up just to mine her deepest secrets and use them against her is a heavy, loaded statement. And implied: that valuable information she unknowingly held were her longings of marriage and family (the aforementioned shit-talking about rings and cradles she never got to have), and more importantly, those dreams preceded him reentering her life and then beginning his mission on her.

The insinuation then is: she confesses these are her deepest wishes which are now seemingly unattainable in her current situation (e.g. with her partner) -> he convinces her HE will give them to her and make the dreams she pines for come true -> she falls for him and blows up her life to make it happen -> he gets what he wants (thrill of the chase/sex/the idea of her/whatever his intent was) -> he abandons her when he gets what he wants, or rather it isn’t what he wants or can handle -> she’s left a) all alone b) with dreams unfulfilled c) with no answers d) feeling used at having her most sacred wishes used against her.

Again, the song is unquestionably about the way the conman absolutely destroyed her, but he was able to do that because there was this thing she wanted more than anything, that was dying in her previous relationship, that he was able to prey upon to seduce her, then discarded her and her dreams as soon as it was inconvenient for him while absolutely hollowing her inside out. (And again: the devastating thing is that this also applies to other relationships she’s written about, in different ways.)

The Alchemy

Not about either the partner or the conman directly, but it (loosely) touches on her finding herself after the whole oven-to-microwave experience and opening herself up to life and love again. #GoodForHer

Clara Bow

This isn’t about the romantic relationships on the surface, but it is about how damaging the entertainment industry and public life are on women, and how women are only valued for their beauty as commodities until they can be discarded and destroyed in the process. Which I think plays into the circumstances that led her to make the decisions that she did years ago, and why she makes the ones she does now. (But also, being valued for physical traits and appeal for the male gaze brings us to…)

The Manuscript

The “original sin” that kicks off all of this. Again, at first light this isn’t about the partner or the conman, but the person it is about is the reason why she has made all the decisions she has ever since in relationships (and that’s Mr. Plaid Shirt Days from “All Too Well”). The realization that her first serious adult relationship is what cemented these patterns, and this view of herself and her worthiness in relationships, is profoundly sad. An older man who valued her for being so mature for her age and implying that the mature activities ahem associated with that were the performance benchmarks in her ability to carry a relationship, only to leave her, was earth shattering. She placed her faith in this person, but then the way he treated her changed her view of love and of herself.

She took his innuendo about “pushing strollers” as a sign of potential commitment, whereas he ultimately meant it as foreplay, and she was too young and naive to know the difference. So not only did she learn from that that this man (and men) didn’t view commitment and family the way she did and that it was something to be toyed with, but she also learned that her value to them among other things was sex. Imagine being an idealistic 20 year old and your boyfriend ten years your senior tells you, “if the sex is anywhere near as good as our dates have been, we’re going to be making babies before you know it,” (e.g. this is relationship is serious) and then he dumps you: does that imply that the sex was not in fact that good? (E.g. that you’re not worthy after all?)

No, obviously from this side of life, it’s because he was a commitment-phobic playboy, even if he did love her, but she couldn’t have known that at 20 and instead internalized that shame. But, it did send her on a path of how she approached sex and love and relationships for over a decade afterwards. And her coming to the realization that that first act of (perhaps unintentional) manipulation is what informed her actions thereafter helped her break the pattern. Her worth to men is not just sex, she has value and her hopes and dreams have value, she doesn’t have to change into a different person to please anyone, because if that is what they want, they won’t ever want her anyway.

It’s been described here on Tumblr by people more eloquent and astute than I as a song that encapsulates the album as this: one did it slow (partner), one did it fast (conman), and one did it first (first love)— and that is haunting. After years of men minimizing her dreams and desires, if not outright using them against her, she’s finally at the point where she can let it all go and move on for good. (There’s a whole other tangent about consent and shame and manipulation, but that’s an entirely different kind of discussion. But it is so devastatingly contrasted with “you said if we had been closer in age maybe it would have been fine, and that made me want to die.”)

THE SUMMATION

This is just my interpretation of it, but in going through the standard album, it feels pretty clear how cohesive the album is about a story of love and loss and grief, then reckoning with what caused it all in the first place that set a person on this path. It’s a formative experience at a young age that was traumatic and led to certain coping mechanisms and a shaping of one’s self-perception, as well as the reaction to external pressures that try to dictate behaviours and influence how one feels one deserves out of love which makes it harder to know when one absolutely deserves more and better. And leaves one struggling to cope with loss when there isn’t anything else to hold onto. Then in light of one’s life blowing up, learning to find oneself in the aftermath all over again.

On another tangent that is somewhat related to the theme of loss, the way she writes about the two main muses on the standard album also ties into how the situations converged to create absolute carnage on her emotional and mental well-being. With one situation, she’s talking about a concrete life that crumbles under the weight of their struggles; with the other, the entire thing is a fantasy that she builds up in her head, and when it comes to fruition it falls far, far short.

If you look at the “microwave” (conman) relationship, you realize that almost everything she writes about it happens before it actually becomes reality, and it’s mostly her imagining how great it’ll be, but with few exceptions, when she writes about what actually occurred, it doesn’t even come close to living up to her expectations. “Fortnight” is an imagined future where she escapes to Florida and his touch finally starts her stalled engine (ahem). “TTPD” is perhaps the most positive retelling of their time together, but even that implies he was better off stoned and when he sobered up he succumbed to his demons all over again, and more importantly she conveys how she also is in extreme distress, barely concealed by the veneer of being infatuated with him. (E.g. saying to that she’ll kill herself if he ever leaves her — the implication is that she is absolutely serious about it when she “felt seen.”) And that the warning bells are going off in her head, but she feels like this person is the only one she can be with (because they’re equally fucked up and the chaos he brings into her life makes her feel alive when she felt so close to death).

“Down Bad” is the most explicit about being in love, but she’s also left completely confused and disoriented by him disappearing, wondering if any of it was real and the seeds of violation creep into her consciousness (“did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust just to do experiments on?” “Waking up in blood.”). “But Daddy” is her imagining she can tell everyone to fuck off for telling her what to do with her life. “Fresh Out The Slammer” is her fantasizing about this man while feeling trapped in her relationship — but never in the song is she actually reunited with him; she’s using him as the projection of all the things she’ll make right after being wronged by her partner. “Guilty As Sin?” Is very obviously about her fantasizing about sleeping with him, but again it’s such a minefield for her because it hasn’t happened yet; they’ve only just reconnected. “I Can Fix Him” is the only song other than “TTPD” that shows them actually together, and it’s the one where she keeps saying, essentially, “I know he’s gross but I can rehabilitate him into an upstanding person, trust me,” until the mic drop at the end of the song where it finally hits her that no, she can’t, because this is who he is, not the person she’s built him up to be.

“Loml” is when it all comes crashing down, and the song emphasizes everything he did and told her, e.g. that she’s the love of his life, but she doesn’t return the sentiment in the song about their time together. Because now that it’s past tense, she knows it wasn’t actually love. (And says as much in the album epilogue poem.) “Broken Heart” is her reeling in the aftermath, but again, it’s “he said,” not “I loved.” And then there’s “The Smallest Man,” where she eviscerates him: he also pursued an idea of her but didn’t care much for the real her in front of him (who else is gonna know me?), he love bombed her only to hurt her (crushing her dreams), he was constantly stoned (and not just in the funny munchies kind of way), and he wasn’t even a good lover (despite the fantasy she’d created before). That last point is especially striking because she spent albums singing about the importance of and pleasure in (sexual) intimacy in the relationship with her partner (sometimes to both their own detriment) and how it was at times the only way they could connect, but in this case, the idea she hyped up and acted on in her head about this lover never panned out in practice. She spells it out in the epilogue: it wasn’t a love affair, it was a mutual manic phase.

In contrast, there’s a lot more tangible action in the “oven” (partner) parts of the album, showing how hard she tried to make the relationship work in real life instead of just in her head. All of “So Long, London” is her detailing how she tried to break through to him and support him, even when he rejected it and pushed her away, thinking she could carry them both until they ultimately sank, but she did it because she “loved this place for so long.” (The place? Not just the city, but the home and perhaps most importantly, him.) In “Slammer” she stayed with him even as things disintegrated for “one hour of sunshine.” (E.g. holding onto the rarer good times even as they were fewer and further between, hoping things would eventually turn around.) And like in “London,” she held on despite people in her life pleading with her that it was hurting her. (Which is also echoed in “Slammer.”) In “Guilty” her boredom is “bone deep” because the passion that once drove their relationship (and papered over their problems) has finally gone out too, so there’s nothing left to hold onto, leading to her fantasizing about the new suitor, which makes her realize her relationship has passed the point of no return. “Loml” is about the conman on the surface, but the undercurrent of all the things she says about him is that he was co-opting the dreams that she was clinging onto for dear life in the previous relationship, which is why the con is so painful; the field of dreams he sets ablaze isn’t just the fake painting he sold to her, but the original artifact (her life with her partner) too.

All the physical and emotional labour she puts into the relationship with her partner ends up reflected in the fantasizing she does in the one with the conman, which is why it is so confusing in the moment and so lethal when he leaves her without any answers. She wants to get married and start a family with her partner which keeps getting stalled; the conman mock-proposes which makes her think he’s immediately serious (“TTPD,” “loml”). She feels caged by having to hide with her partner and shrink herself; the conman promises he’ll stand by her side publicly and let her shine (“Smallest Man”). She sinks into a deep depression in her loneliness as the relationship with her partner careens off a cliff; the conman convinces her they’re meant for each other in a them-against-the-world way (“Down Bad”). The intimacy (in all senses of the word) in her relationship with her partner fizzles; the conman stokes the fire by sending her secret messages and reigniting passion (“Guilty”). She spent years trying to help her partner to no avail; the conman makes her think she has the power to reform him (“loml”). She feels misunderstood by her partner; the conman acts like he’s the (only) one who truly gets her (“TTPD,” “loml”).

In short: there’s nothing that the conman does or says that isn’t a direct response to what her partner did first, and it’s even worse because the conman knew how much her partner’s actions hurt her and he used that privileged information to paint a picture of what he could give her, but in doing so in some ways aimed at her heart with even deadlier accuracy. (I’ve likened it to him borrowing someone else’s life for his own joyride, until he crashes the rental car and flees the scene.) It’s why in the aftermath, the difference in emotions are so different: she feels nothing but rage and violation towards the conman for getting in her head and using her, whereas her feelings towards her partner are more complicated. There’s anger (at her lost youth and being taken for granted), but there’s also sorrow (at their lost life and future), disappointment (that he never could step up the way he’d promised or she’d needed), even compassion (towards his struggles) and a tiny measure of appreciation (for the good times they did share).

When you look at the bigger picture, the story the album paints is just so painfully normal. You have two people (Taylor and her partner) who once loved each other deeply, and despite warning signs early on telling them they have fundamentally different needs and ways of living their lives they fight like hell to make it work (the epilogue) until those warning signs become grenades that destroy their home (“My Boy,” “London,” “Slammer,” arguably “loml”). Having already been through at least one rough patch/break/breakup that she felt almost destroyed her (harkening back to Midnights on “You’re Losing Me,” “The Great War” and “Hits Different”), the final and fatal downward spiral of the relationship (“YLM,” “London”) and the grief over losing that future sends her into a tailspin, just at the time where a flame from the past (the conman) reenters her life and tells her all the things she’s been longing to hear and feel (“TTPD,” “Down Bad,” “Guilty,” “loml”) and, crucially, missing from the relationship that was once her entire life.

So in her panic, she falls prey to the (empty) promises of the past lover (“loml,” “Smallest Man”) and decides he’s actually what will save her from the free fall, because the alternative (that she will end up in a situation she doesn’t think she can survive) is too painful to bear. When she finally acts on these circumstances (leaves her partner/runs to the conman), she snaps, acting on pure emotion and adrenaline (“But Daddy”), but before she knows it, the new lover abandons her, and she’s left to reckon with the fallout of the episode and process everything that has happened (“Down Bad,” “loml”) — with the conman, with her partner, with the choices made in her adult life personally and professionally which leads her back to the moment she feels set her down that road at the start.

The TL;DR of this unintentionally long essay is that the reason the conman affair was so serious was precisely because it was meant to fulfill the promise of what was her life with her partner. To me, a large part of the story is that she projected that life onto the conman (or he projected her life back to her for his own purposes) because she wasn’t ready to deal with that massive grief and the life raft he offered felt like the only alternative to an even darker end. Whether the conman actually believed what he told her, or he went along with it or encouraged it because it served his purpose, we’ll never know, just like we’ll never know the finer details of what went on (nor should we). But no matter what, the album is just an extreme deep dive into all the ways grief can consume us, and whether it’s a long, drawn-out death or a sudden, inexplicable one, it can turn a person’s life into such a trainwreck that they act in ways unfathomable to even them, let alone the people around them. It can also unleash repressed trauma and mental illness that can crater your sense of self. And when those situations are compounded? It makes for a nearly impossible type of breakdown to unpack. (Which is why you might need a 31 song album to process it.)

#What if i told you I’m back lol #Time for me to finally just post the thing after it’s been sitting in my drafts for so long so I can rid myself of it lol #Writing letters addressed to the fire #the tortured poets department #Consider this a treat before Eras comes back for its swan song leg idk #Would you believe that as long as this is #i deleted quite a few chunks of it from the original draft i sent to a friend(s) in the interest of ~propriety~#Because they were a little too rambly and um— ~speculative~/personal/etc and we are flying too close to the sun #And i tried to be as tactful and more or less stick to things we can point to in the music and such #So hope people catch my drift lmao but also iykyk i guess #I have so many other themes I want to talk about but I never have any time #I have so much more i want to say and yet #wavesoutbeingtossed: The Anthology #Also if things get weird i will turn off reblogs/delete the post tbd #This is not an invitation to get into muse ranting or debate in my inbox and I ask that you please respect my boundaries :)#Midnights #lover #folklore #evermore

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updownlately · 1 year ago

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save your tears, it’ll be okay (all i know is you’re here with me)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 5.1k | a/n: this video's been living rent free in my head for a minute now so i thought i'd write about it. this was originally supposed to be a blurb but oh well. no plot just comfort. definitely not my best work, but we move. happy reading 🫶

~~~

You weren’t thinking as you watched the events unfold in front of you.

You weren’t thinking as you immediately started back tracking, sprinting to where you had just run from.

You weren’t thinking as you skidded to a stop beside Leah, mind a frenzy, panic clear on your face as your hand immediately went to rest on the blonde’s shoulders.

All you knew was you had to make sure she was okay, something that you knew she definitely wasn’t.

You knew the last corner ball sent in had hit her in the face, but you hadn’t seen just how badly it had hit her.

You had watched with mild concern as you saw her pinch the bridge of her nose afterwards, jogging up to her as you ran back to your defensive half, quietly asking her if she was truly okay as you matched her step for a brief moment.

Not fully convinced when she waved off your worries, you had cautiously taken her word for truth, hesitantly double checking but not pressing, for fear of being overbearing.

But as you watched in horror as Leah fell to her knees shortly after, head hung low in pain, you wondered if you maybe should’ve asked her to pause for a minute.

Maybe you should’ve gotten her to take a breather. Maybe you should’ve asked her to look up at you. Because then maybe you would’ve seen the dazed look in her eyes, would’ve seen the way her face was wretched in pain.

Maybe then, you would’ve been there to catch her as she fell forwards, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

But for now you’d settle for being by her side, the pounding in your chest increasing with worry as you did your best to steady the other woman, only moving slightly as the medics came in to check on her.

Taking measured breaths to try and stop your heart from climbing up your throat, you watched nervously as the blonde didn’t lift her head as the medics checked her out, her weight resting on her closed fists as she barely moved.

The fact that she had a concussion was clear as day- the way the english skipper refused to move her head, eyes screwed shut in a somewhat successful attempt to block out the surrounding light, slipping in out of consciousness as she was forced into a sitting position, being propped up by you and another team medic.

Watching carefully as the blonde finally came to a slightly more coherent state, you kept your eyes firmly on her as she faltered through the basic series of on-pitch tests.

Guessing randomly that she was at a training, unable to tell what day it was or what had just happened, and the clear dizziness as she tried to stand up in an futile attempt to convince you all that she was okay, never mind the increased irritability, it seemed that even she knew she was about to be ushered off, shooting you a pout as you lifted an arm of hers over your shoulder to stabilise her.

“‘m fine. I can play…” the mumbled words directed at you were followed immediately by her staggering slightly, a groan escaping her lips as she swallowed hard and steadied herself.

Sighing at the stubbornness you were well familiar with, you nodded along to the statement, keeping your voice low as you responded so as to not worsen the headache you just knew the blonde had, even though she didn’t say it.

“They’re just gonna check you out, yeah? Make sure you’re all a-okay before you come back.”

Even through the fog that clouded her mind, the defender could see right through your bullshit.

“If I go…I can’t play.”

The blonde just barely managed to mumble the words out, wrinkles littering her forehead as she tried her hardest to sound coherent.

Stopping in her tracks to prevent the inevitable, Leah planted herself to the ground, mere metres from the edge of the field.

Trying to nudge her to move along, you stepped forward, only to be pulled back abruptly by the arm over your shoulder.

“No.”

“Leah…” Pleading, you looked over your shoulder to see the ref patiently waiting near the middle of the field, eyeing the pair of you as she waited for the Gooner to exit off the pitch so that play could resume.

“No,” the blonde repeated, obstinate, the trainers around you two looking at you imploringly.

Trying again, you tried to be firm, not wanting to annoy the blonde but still get your point across.

“Leah, you’re hurt and you’ve got to get off the pitch- it’s not up for debate.”

Keeping a straight face, you did your best to put on a hard facade.

You watched as the girl hesitated for a second, nearly stepping forwards before pausing and standing still again, this time turning towards you and then the pitch, trying to move towards her position on the field.

Frustrated at the clear dismissal, you gently tugged Leah back towards you, catching her as she stumbled ever so slightly.

Lowering your voice just enough that your words would stay nestled between you, you brought Leah close to you.

“Leah, I’m not messing around. You’re headed off and that’s final. No ifs, no buts, especially if you don’t want to be sleeping alone for the next few days.”

“But-“

“Leah. Catherine. Williamson.”

The clear use of her full name was enough to cause the blonde to decide against any retort she had on the tip of her tongue, your rigid tone solidifying the decision for the blonde to listen to you, albeit quite annoyedly.

Muttering a quiet ‘fine’ as she turned around again, you sighed in relief.

Quickly placing your hand on her cheek and gently turning her head to face you, you kissed the blonde on her forehead before stepping back.

“Be good to the trainers, yeah? I don’t wanna hear a single complaint from them.”

And with a relieved look crossing your face as you saw Leah nod meekly in response, you watched anxiously as she was led the last few metres off the pitch, you sprinting back to your position in midfield, eager for the game to move on quickly.

The faster the game ended, the faster you could be beside your girlfriend.

~~~

All that you could hear was the rapid clicking sound of your studs against tile echoing as you raced through the hallway.

You’d made a break for the medical room as soon as the team had been dismissed from the field, foregoing meeting with the fans and the media, more important things for you to attend to- namely your girlfriend.

Reaching the medical room you were told Leah was in, you slowed to a stop, rapidly unlacing your cleats and slipping them off, opting to hold them as you walked in with only your socks.

Skipping the knocking for the same reason you took off your cleats, you instead cracked the door open slightly, softly calling out for your girlfriend, permission to enter granted as the blonde grunted in return.

‘Awwing’ audibly in sympathy, your shoulders dropped in relief at the sight of the blonde sitting up.

Making your way to stand beside the cot she was resting on, you navigated the room slowly in the extremely dim light and dropped your cleats gently by your side, hands instinctively reaching out as you neared your girlfriend.

“How are we feeling little miss stubborn?”

Letting out a soft chuckle at the immediate pout that crossed the blue eyed girl’s face, you grabbed her hands in your own, thumbs coming to gently rub the back of her hands.

“Shite. Everything hurts.”

The skipper kept the words to a minimum, it still clearly taking a lot out of her for them to be said.

Shaking your head amusedly at the clearly concussed, stubborn individual you got the joy of calling your girlfriend, you huffed in amusement.

“But I thought you were perfectly fine?” you teased, not wanting to pass the opportunity to rub the blonde’s stubbornness in her face.

God, she really needed to start listening to you more.

“Don’t…”

The quiet plea combined with the midfielders head coming forward to rest against your chest had you immediately taking a more protective nature, one hand coming to rub her back in sympathy as another gently carded through her hair in an attempt to bring her some sort of reprieve from the pain.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

Bending down, you placed a small kiss on her temple, lips lingering for a second as relief washed over you.

She was okay. She was awake, and okay, and doing alright, minus a concussion.

You wouldn’t tell the blonde, but you had initially feared the worst when you had turned around to see her dropping to her knees, dazed and confused.

Call it your anxiety, but the way your heart had sunk so deep, nearly burying itself beneath you, you’d felt so utterly terrified, nearly rooted to the spot if it hadn’t been for your adrenaline kicking in and causing you to sprint back across the field.

So for your own sake primarily (and then Leah’s), you stood there in the silence, revelling in the blonde’s touch as her hands loosely wrapped around your hips, you able to just barely feel her heartbeat as she sat slumped against your body.

The intimacy of just being able to hold her, her messy mop of blonde hair sticking out in every direction as it pressed against your jersey had your breathing slowing to a peaceful lull.

You knew that if it ever came down to it, all you’d ever want is the blonde in your arms, alive and well, regardless of what it meant for you or anyone else.

Closing your eyes as you stood there for a little while longer, you nearly let yourself forget where you were, the ease of the weight on your chest and the girl in your arms, your heaven on earth.

It was only when the team’s doc came in to brief you both (mainly you) on the injury, did you pull apart, only going as far as standing beside the blonde instead of in front of her, tucking her into your side as you listened intently.

You needed to feel her touch, it reassuring you that she was, in fact, alright.

Jotting down the key points the doctor mentioned into your phone’s notes app, you made a mental list of it all as well, one arm still firmly planted across the defender’s shoulders as she leaned against you.

‘No bright lights, no screens, no alcohol, no caffeine, make sure to hydrate, eat healthy, and get plenty of rest’- plus a few more you had listed on your phone.

And as he told you that they’d suggested taking Leah to the hospital just to ensure that further medical attention wasn’t needed, you nodded in agreement, worrying as the blonde muttered about how she was feeling slightly nauseous.

Pulling away from her, your eyes rolling fondly as the blonde whined in displeasure, you quickly grabbed your forgotten boots, straightening up immediately and beginning to help Leah stand.

“Boots before me? Ouch?”

The words were slurred as the blonde tried her best to string together a sentence and you couldn’t help but shake in laughter at her sad tone and pout.

“Love, it’s so I could help you walk without both of us toppling over…”

“Why take ‘em off anyways?”

Looking away as a red hue painted itself on your cheeks, you contemplated whether you should tell Leah the real reasoning, no doubt going to be mocked for how much of a simp you were- her words, not yours (damnit Beth for teaching her the word).

“I may or may not have taken them off so the clicking didn’t worsen your headache…”

“You’re cute…”

The words were muttered quietly as the midfielder rested more of her weight on you, nearly fully leaning against you as she closed her eyes, blindly trusting you to lead her, a comical sight really- the taller blonde nearly smothering you with her weight.

Raising your eyebrows in surprise at the lack of a teasing comment, you shrugged and accepted Leah’s admission without much of a fight, wrapping your arm around her waist as you both slowly began to walk out.

If it wasn’t clear before, then you most definitely knew now that Leah Williamson had a concussion, the easy chance to tease you overlooked, leaving you surprised.

But, as you led the blonde out however, the pair of you slowly making your way to the locker room to collect your things, it appeared that you spoke too soon, much to your chagrin.

“God, you’re such a simp…”

The words were spoken clearly, the blonde clearly having waited for the right moment to say them, lulling you into a false sense of comfort, you able to feel the lazy grin on her face as her cheeks pressed against your shoulder.

Cheeky woman.

Rolling your eyes because of course you weren’t that lucky, you shook your head fondly, your annoyance at her comment clear as the smile on your face grew slightly with adoration.

“God you’re such a little shit…I love you too babe…”

~~~

It’s a few hours later that the two of you are pulling up to your shared home, you in the driver’s seat, a rare occasion if you were honest.

Having driven ever so carefully, Leah very much reminding you how much she loved her car, you had been laser focused on the road, albeit only one hand on the steering wheel as the other sat intertwined with Leah’s in her lap.

You weren’t a bad driver, not at all. But, having only sat passenger in this car, you had definitely been cautious about being behind the wheel for the first time.

“Honestly, I think I’ll stick to passenger princess…that was a headache and a half…” you groaned, putting the suv in park and running a hand through your hair.

Clicking open your seatbelt, you paused your movement as Leah spoke, her voice quiet.

“I know…never again…”

Her comment had you whipping your head up immediately, an incredulous look on your face as you threw your hands up, facing the taller girl slumped back in the passenger seat, an arsenal hoodie nearly covering her whole face.

“Hey. Not fair! I wasn’t bad, it was just…stressful.”

“Whatever you say…”

Shaking your head, you turned the car off, muttering to yourself playfully as you did so.

“How are you so annoying with a near third degree concussion? Surely you’d be knackered by now…”

After leaving the Arsenal medical room, you had both waited outside the locker room for a handful of minutes, watching as your teammates slowly filed out, many of them patting Leah encouragingly, murmuring a few teasing words and some that were encouraging.

Even McCabe had managed to be nice, only going as far as mussing up the blonde’s hair before wishing her a speedy recovery, somehow miraculously managing to keep her voice at a reasonable decibel for the injured skipper.

You’d been leant against the wall, Leah pulled protectively to your chest, soft words of reassurance and comfort murmured to her in the passing moments, the two of you stood there patiently until you were absolutely sure the rest of the locker room was nearly empty, and most importantly, quiet.

It was only then did you slowly lead the blonde in, settling her down for a few minutes as you took what had to be the quickest shower of your life.

Helping Leah with her jacket and slides and lending her the baseball cap you stored in your locker for bad hair days, you had quickly packed both your kits and made your way to the parkade.

It was then that you had realized the conundrum that the injury brought upon- you’d have to drive home.

Now, driving wasn’t the issue. It was more so what you’d be driving- Leah’s car- a significantly larger suv compared to the sedan you typically drove.

Coupled with the fact that you’d never driven this large of a vehicle around London’s smaller streets before, not for a lack of you trying- the damn thing was just too expensive for you to enjoy being behind the wheel like you normally would- you weren’t looking forward to the trip home.

And neither was the blonde apparently.

It was only after a lot of convincing, grumpy looks, dejected sighs, and pinky promises of dinner and unlimited cuddles that Leah agreed to hand you her keys, unhappy about the outcome but wanting to go home.

And with that you had been off, headed to the hospital for a checkup on the concussion.

Having your suspicions confirmed during the visit, it was cemented that the blonde likely had a second, possibly third degree concussion.

With another list of do’s and don’ts written safely in your notes app, the two of you had finally taken off for home, nearly two and a half hours later.

It’s what led you to now, you making your way out of the car, rounding it as you opened Leah’s door to help the other girl out.

“Okay drunky, careful now…” you teased, hand coming to hold hers as you helped her out of the vehicle.

“Y’know I’m not drunk…” the blonde grumpily stated, nevertheless taking your help as she slowly but surely made her way out.

Shrugging in response as your eyes twinkled with mirth, you just hummed in confirmation as you shut the door behind her and made your way to the front door.

Unlocking it, you led her to sit down on the ottoman by your entryway, kneeling down to help unlace her muddy cleats- something you’d deal with later.

“Gosh. Take a woman out to dinner first…”

You looked up from your knelt position just in time to see Leah’s poor attempt to roll her eyes, followed by a wince as her shoulder’s curled in at the pain that no doubt flashed through her head.

“You’re insufferable. I hope you know that.”

“You love me anyways.”

Sighing in faux displeasure, you shrugged your shoulders.

“Sometimes I wonder why I do…”

Pleased at the scowl that crossed the other girl’s face, you bit back your smile as you rose to stand.

“Not so fun when you’re on the other end now, is it?”

Silently laughing as she crossed her arms at your words, looking nearly like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the blonde’s head as you straightened, placing the dirty shoes on the mat by the shoe rack.

“I’m going to grab our bags, yeah? Don’t move from here.”

“And if I do?”

“Then I’d love to see exactly how far your old, concussed arse could crawl...”

Chuckling to yourself as you heard Leah sputter, you turned around to head back to the garage.

“I’m only 8 months older!”

~~~

You couldn’t believe you managed it, but you somehow got Leah cleaned up and into a fresh set of clothes- the blonde now slumped on a barstool, head resting on the cool counter as you slowly shuffled around your dark kitchen.

It had taken the bribery of letting her pick dinner (resulting in ham sandwiches for her of course) and letting her sit at the island, hence the dim hue of the range the only light on in the apartment- to get Leah to step into the shower for a quick wash, you keeping a close eye as you sat on the counter, ready to help if needed.

After wrapping the midfielder-turned-defender in the fluffiest towel you could find afterwards, you had helped her dress into the comfiest pair of sweats you could find.

It combined with you returning an old hoodie of hers that you’d borrowed eons ago, one that now smelled like you, much to the blonde’s liking, all that was left to focus on was having a bit of food before the two of you headed to bed for some much needed rest.

“Would you be mad if I told you I wasn’t feeling hungry?”

The soft words have you stopping your tracks, a nearly assembled sandwich glaring at you as you stared at it, contemplating your next move.

“If you’re not hungry I won’t force it down your throat, but I do ask that you have a few bites.”

“My head hurts too much…just wanna sleep.”

Eyebrows furrowing in concern, you grabbed the plate and a glass of water and made your way towards the blonde, gently putting the sad excuse of a ham sandwich in front of her, grimacing at just how plain it looked.

Placing a comforting hand on the other girl’s shoulder you rubbed gentle circles and kept your voice low.

“Three good bites, yeah? And then you’re all done.”

Seeing Leah gingerly lift her head and eye the sandwich warily, you held your breath.

You really needed her to eat, even if it was just a few bites. The last meal she had was nearly six hours ago, before the game.

“It might not stay down…”

Gentle concern taking a hold of you, you tried not to let your worry seep into your voice.

“That’s alright. If it stays down, great. And if it doesn’t, then so be it. I just need you to have a little bit so I won’t worry when you sleep.”

You figured if you could convince her she wouldn’t throw up, then she just might not.

Letting out a small sigh of relief as you watched the blonde nod in understanding and pick up the sandwich to take a small bite, you relaxed into your own seat, your own sandwich you had prepared earlier waiting for you.

Sitting in the peaceful silence, the pair of you made quick work of your basic dinner, you finishing yours off as Leah picked at hers, managing to get a little under halfway through until she set the sandwich down and began to rest her head on your shoulder.

“Lee?”

You kept your voice low, wrapping a gentle arm around her shoulder as you rubbed it soothingly in an attempt to bring her comfort.

Hearing the blonde grumble in response only to nuzzle closer to you, barstool scraping against tile as her forehead went to rest in the crook of your neck, you couldn’t help but smile amusedly.

Of course the big, scary, stern English skipper was an absolutely softie- an oh-so-fluffy teddy bear- at heart.

Bringing your hand to lovingly comb through her hair, you let Leah have her moment, content with passing a few minutes providing her the comfort she craved.

Moments like these- minus the concussion- were your favourite if you were honest.

Times where it was just you and your girl, one in the other’s arms searching for a comfort you knew would only be found with your other half, the tender blanket of your love wrapping the pair of you up, did you finally understand what all the poets and artists would rave about.

It was as you could feel her relaxed heart beat against yours, small puffs of breath fanning the expanse of your neck or the top of your head did you realize what feeling ‘light’ meant.

Wrapped up in her arms on days that felt just a tad bit too hard was when you understood what having a rock, a constant support, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to grab, always and forever was.

And when you got to hold her- the few times that you would- each time it would hit you like a truck, the understanding that you’d die for her but you’d also fight anyone who tried to take her peace away, without a second though, wanting to wrap her in a bubble of happiness for the rest of her life, only a smile on her face if you were in charge of the universe.

Snapping out of your thoughts as you felt the blonde shuffle, the barstools most definitely not made for the tangle of limbs the pair of you were, your smile didn’t leave your face as you quickly placed another comforting kiss on the blonde’s temple.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

~~~

“Stay.”

The single word had you stopping in your tracks.

You were headed to the bathroom after having helped Leah settle in.

Deciding early on that you’d get her sorted first so she could get her much needed rest in peace, and you be able to actually cleanse your face with a light on, you’d tucked her into bed, kissing her cheek with the promise of only being gone a few minutes.

Ignoring the whine of protest you got, you figured she’d get over your brief absence rather quickly.

You were proven wrong however, the quiet utterance laced with a desperation you’d never heard tugging at your heart strings ever so persistently.

Turning around to face the blonde in the dim light of the moon, your shoulders dropped at the absolutely miserable look on her face, one eye barely open as she looked at you pleadingly.

“Three minutes, yeah? I’ll be back before you know it.”

Squeezing her hand, you nearly sprinted to the bathroom, and began running through your night time routine, easily making the decision to skip a handful of skincare steps- you had more important things to take care of anyways.

Brushing your teeth and washing your face, you listened carefully for any sounds of discomfort from the other girl, relaxing marginally as it seemed that the day was finally catching up to her.

Leah wasn’t the overly affectionate type, so to have her press you to stay, you’d be lying if it didn’t kill you a little inside.

It’s why you ended up tucking yourself into your side of the bed within two minutes and fifty-three seconds of your promise, with seven seconds to spare on your watch and a proud smile on your face as you invitingly opened your arms.

And with the way Leah immediately snuggled up to you, head tucked easily into the crook of your neck, her arm coming to wrap around your stomach as her leg came to rest across your torso, you knew you made the right call.

*********

Your bedroom felt oddly quiet with the pin-drop silence that covered it as night descended.

With only Leah’s and your gentle breathing to be heard as she tucked herself into your side, you let your shoulders relax, wrapping your arm around her waist as you pulled her closer.

Nights spent together were rarely this quiet for you two.

They more often than not consisted of gentle murmurs and jokes, the blonde always, and you mean always, finding one way or another to tease you or get on your nerves.

And if it wasn’t the lot of you annoying each other good-naturedly to your wits ends, it was soft murmurs, dreams quietly being spoken into existence as you discussed your futures, your plans, ideas, goals.

Careers, education, kids, dream wedding, homes, families, champions league games, world cups- nothing was off the table as you’d both be cuddled up into each other, a head on a chest or the barest of space as you two laid on your sides in the dim moonlight. hands intertwining with each other in the space between your bodies as promises of a ‘forever’ kind of love were whispered between chaste kisses and soft touches.

Of course you had other nights, where the hours bled into one another, the pair of you only falling asleep when matching sated smiles crossed your faces, an early night turning to a late one, the rising sun signalling for you to go to bed.

But right now?

Right now, as pitch black darkness covered your room, you wondered if this was what true, unconditional love was like.

Missing the ordinary, the mundane that you never thought you would once achieve- it now something you felt odd without, a hole in your heart- yet you didn’t mind.

You didn’t mind if the rest of your nights went like this- curtains drawn shut, not a single sliver of moonlight peeking through.

You didn’t mind the silence (yes, you missed your late night confessions with the blonde but you’d survive without them).

And you definitely didn’t mind the way Leah was curled up into you, a sight you didn’t see often, her typically the bigger spoon, but one you wished to ingrain into your memory.

Swallowing hard as you realized you were a safe space for the blonde- a safe haven for her to heal whilst she trusted you to keep her well, you let your fingertips absentmindedly trace gentle patterns into her back.

You knew she wasn’t asleep, she never fell asleep easily, hence chattering your ear off (not that you ever minded- though you wouldn’t tell her, teasing her for her late night energy always amusing).

“How you feeling bub?”

Feeling her exhale deeply against you, you nearly audibly awed as she sunk impossibly closer.

“Head still hurts, but better now.”

“Yeah?”

Feeling her nod, you hummed in response, choosing to close your eyes and let the day wash over you.

What you didn’t account for in your attempt to relax was the mumbled statement that came your way.

“These next few weeks are going to be weird…”

Well aware of how much the English woman breathed football, you nodded in understanding.

“They probably will be, and nothing can be done about it. but, I can promise you infinite cuddles, kisses, and snackies to make up for it?”

Feeling Leah nod sluggishly at your words, you squeezed her waist gently, letting out a deep breath as you mentally reminded yourself she was okay.

You knew she was right- these next few weeks were going to be weird, but you were damned if you were going to let the blonde suffer through her concussion alone, very much ready to be at her beck and call, her rock through the storm.

Feeling your heartbeat match Leah’s slow inhales and exhales, you closed your eyes as your hold on her got a tad bit stronger, grounding you, and your touch grounding her, as the both of you let the comfort of each other lull you to sleep.

She’d be okay. She was okay. It would all be okay, with her beside you, snuggled up into your hold.

All would be okay as long as she was with you.

#not proofread as usual #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #my writing #fic #hurt/comfort #sytibo

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mossflower · 11 months ago

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like imagine you love an era of the show that most people are ambivalent about or downright hate. you’re told by literally everyone that the writing is worse now. ever since they had a woman playing the doctor - no of course it’s not her fault!! we love jodie!! she does her best!! but you Have To Admit chibnall is a bad writer. anyway. you post on social media - doesn’t matter what, but anything positive about the era is going to be met with unsolicited comments about how the show’s going downhill. maybe you’re browsing youtube and videos are all conspiracy theories about how the only way to Save Doctor Who is to bring back rtd. you’re not a big fan of rtd’s era, you think that’s never going to happen - Oh That‘s Actually Happening. well. alright then. they also announced the next doctor SIKE it’s david tennant again. also disney is involved and everyone is posting about how doctor who is saved and you’re sat there thinking that it never died. anyway. the new episodes eventually come out and maybe you don’t like them and maybe you post some of your criticisms and you’re basically told to stop ruining it for everyone else. damn. salty 13 fans amirite

like i do not agree with most of the extreme 13 fan takes but i’m literally never going to argue with them

#every hardcore 13 fan deserves to get a million pounds for every time someone says ‘i loved jodie but chibnall was a terrible writer’#oh and a gun #it’s like. 13 being played by a woman literally made everyone incapable of being normal about the show #doctor who #also i dont consider myself a hardcore 13 fan. the thirteenth doctor just lives in my head rent free she’s my roman empire i fear

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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year ago

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Uh-Oh

Summary: Javi's Girl Dad skills get put to the ultimate test when your oldest daughter gets her period and you're not home to help her

Word Count: 2.9K

Pairing: Dad!Javi x Wife!reader (No use of y/n)

Warnings: Periods/getting a period for the first time, Javi being the ultimate Girl Dad, the Peña girls being the queens of sass, teamwork makes the dream work, just cute, sweet fluff 🥺😭

A/N: We all know that Girl Dad! Javi lives rent free in my brain, and as I was buying more tampons for myself today my brain went "Oh my god... could you imagine if Osita wasn't home when Lucy got her period and Javi, Elliot and Harper had to try and help her until Osita got home?" 😂😩 And of course, our elite girl dad would do anything he needed to in order to step up and make sure that his lil girl was okay 😭 This was also super fun to write because I feel like the girl's spunky personalities really shine through in this one 💀

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“Mom? Mooommm?!”

“Why do you need Mom?” Elliot responded to her older sister, Lucy, frantically calling out for you from behind the bathroom door.

“I just- I- Will you please just go get Mom, okay?! I really need her.” Lucy sighed, panic filling her voice with every passing second it took for her sister to answer her request. Normally Elliot wouldn’t have been so quick to comply without haggling to negotiate a favor on her end, but even the 11 year old could sense the pure terror in her older sister’s voice.

“Fine, fine.” Elliot huffed, making her way to her other sister’s room down the hall, pushing open Harper’s door to rally her for support. “Harper. Go help me find Mom.”

“Why?” Harper asked, giving her sister a confused look as she set down the stuffed animals she was playing with on her bed.

“Because, Lucy sounds like she’s having a mental breakdown in the bathroom and she needs mom’s help.”

“Do you think she pooped her pants?!” Harper looked at Elliot with a disgusted and confused grimace on her face, the girls pausing for a moment to shake their heads in horror at the potential current state of their sister.

“She did sound really upset… I don’t know Harps, just go look for Mom, okay?!”

The girls quickly split, Harper taking the rest of the rooms upstairs while Elliot sped down the stairs to see if you were anywhere on the first floor.

“Mom?! Mommy are you down here?!”

After many years of raising 3 girls under the same roof, the two of you had learned how to tell the difference in your girls’ tone to distinguish what they wanted you for- Tattling, excitement, annoyance, you and Javi had pretty much heard it all. But the way that Elliot was calling out for you immediately caught Javi’s attention.

Someone was in big trouble.

“What’s up, El?” Javi called out wearily from the living room, lowering the volume on the TV as his daughter came speeding in, fear flooding her face.

“Where’s mom?!” Elliot demanded, looking around the room for any sight of you. Her worried tone quickly had Javi up and off the couch, scrunching his brow at Elliot in concern at what kind of trouble the girls had gotten themselves into that they were so frantically looking for you.

“Mom’s at the store. What’s going on?” Javi asked again, trying to keep even keeled, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at his daughter.

“I don’t know, I swear! Lucy just kept calling for Mom from the bathroom. She sounded really freaked out, though. Harper and I think she shit her pants.” Elliot replied, holding up her hands in defense to rid herself of any potential blame, trying to keep from giggling at her last sentence.

“Elliot Marie.” Javi groaned, rolling his eyes at her. “You said she’s in the bathroom?”

Elliot nodded, giving a little shrug for her lack of clarity around her sister’s current circumstances. Letting out a little sigh, Javi reached over for the remote on the couch, turning off the TV before making his way up the stairs to find out what in the world was going on.

Javi, Elliot and Harper now found themselves gathered around the outside of the bathroom door in confusion, Javi gently tapping on the door before speaking. “Hey Lucy, it’s me. What’s goin’ on, bud?”

“Where’s Mom?!” Lucy replied, sounding like she was trying her best to hold back her sobs, muffled from behind the bathroom door.

“She’s at the store right now, babe. What’s going on?” Javi asked again, looking down at Harper and Elliot who were looking back up at him, the 3 of them perplexed as to why Lucy was so distraught.

“Did you poop your pants?!” Harper shouted, trying her best to ask seriously, although the two girls on the outside of the bathroom door couldn’t help but snicker to themselves. Javi groaned, rolling his eyes at Elliot and Harper, taking his hand to shoo them away, silently mouthing “Seriously?! Go play.” as the girls scampered away in a fit of giggles to Elliot’s room, leaving just Javi outside the door, waiting for a response.

“... I really need Mom.” Lucy choked out through her tears as Javi leaned against the door, running his hand over the back of his neck in a mix of bewilderment and frustration until his realization hit him like a ton of bricks, his face going ghost white in terror.

Lucy got her fucking period and you weren’t home.

Javi could feel himself physically starting to sweat in panic trying to figure out what the hell to do. Even if he called you to come home, you probably still weren’t going to be back for another 45 minutes, and he wasn’t going to let his daughter sit in the bathroom horrified and alone until you returned. Letting out the deepest sigh he could muster, Javi knew his only option was to do this on his own, and hope he didn’t traumatize his oldest daughter, or die of embarrassment in the process.

“Uh… Lucy, I’m really sorry but Mom’s not- shit- You… You’re gonna have to trust me to help you though this one, bud.” Javi grimaced, wincing at his own words, wondering to himself how he was going to get himself and his daughter through this.

A stark silence hug in the air between them, barricaded by the bathroom door as Javi anxiously bounced his leg, waiting for Lucy to say something, anything, back to him. “How do you know what’s going on?” Lucy questioned hesitantly, probably still just as in shock as Javi was that the two of themselves were stuck in this situation together.

“I uh- I’m just assuming because you wanted Mom- and uh, you’re- you’re in the bathroom and that you’re upset that you got your per-”

“EW DAD?! Don’t say it!! That’s so weird!!” Lucy snapped from the other side of the door, Javi automatically holding up his hands in defense and taking a step back from the bathroom, taking a moment to carefully choose his next words before speaking again.

“Sorry, sorry. Uh, kiddo, listen, I can call Mom but she’s not gonna be home for a while and I- I can’t just let you sit in there until she comes back. Can I- will you let me help you?” Javi asked, preemptively wincing, bracing himself for Lucy’s reply.

“Yeah, I- I guess. Just please don’t be weird, Dad, I’m literally already gonna die of embarrassment and that’s without your help.” Lucy groaned, accepting defeat that she was going to have to let her Dad, of all people, help her through her unfortunate circumstances. Javi let out a sigh of relief that he at least wasn’t going to have to fight with Lucy or leave her stranded in the bathroom, but as he sat and thought about the fact that he was going to put a plan into action… Given the choice between this and chasing down Pablo Escobar or the Cali Cartel? Javi would have been on the first flight back to Colombia.

“Okay, let me uh… I’ll um- give me one second okay?”

“Not like I was planning on going anywhere else anytime soon.” Lucy grumbled, just loud enough for Javi to hear as he sped to Elliot’s room, where he found his other two daughters blissfully unaware of what was happening, building some sort of creation out of Legos.

“Girls, you gotta go do something for me okay?” Javi pleaded, leaning in the doorframe of the bedroom, looking down at his daughters on the floor, pausing their Lego construction, their dad now capturing their attention.

“Okay.” The girls said in unison, giving their dad a little shrug of compliance.

“Can you uh-” Javi ran his hand over his red face, trying to find the least mortifying way to ask his daughters to help, “Can you guys go to Lucy’s room and get her a pair of underwear?”

“EW GROSS DAD.” The girls shrieked, sticking out their tongues in disgust and Elliot pretending to vomit to add to the effect.

“You guys… Can you just- please?” Javi practically begged, trying his best to keep calm and blow things even more out of proportion than they already felt like they were. Elliot and Harper sat quietly for a moment, the gears in their head visibly turning before Elliot spoke again.

“...What’s in it for us?” Elliot asked, tilting her head and shrugging at her sister, too smart for her own good to ever pass up on an opportunity to bargain her way into a better deal.

“Helping your sister.” Javi gruffed, impatient for his daughter’s negotiating antics as his other daughter sat helpless in the bathroom. Elliot and Harper both raised an eyebrow at their dad, sitting on the floor in a determined silence to get something in exchange for Javi’s proposal. “... 5 bucks for each of you, fair?”

“5? Seems a little low for such a risky task.”

“Fine, 10, now go so we can help your sister.”

The girls gave each other a quiet high five before pushing up off the floor and racing past Javi out of the bedroom door towards their sister’s room, Harper’s voice carrying down the hallway.

“I told you she pooped her pants!”

Now having figured out one part of his predicament, Javi made his way back to the bathroom door to check on Lucy as he waited for Elliot and Harper to return. “Hey Lucy… You… You doin’ okay?” Javi asked, his hand brushing through the dark ends of his curls at the back of his neck.

“Yeah… NEVER been better.” Lucy groaned, her voice oozing with sarcasm, a trait she had so lovingly inherited from you, and something Javi couldn’t even come close to being upset with her about, given her current situation. Before Javi could respond, Elliot and Harper were barreling down the hallway, Elliot holding out a hockey stick with a pair of underwear hooked at the end, Javi shaking his in disbelief.

“Seriously, El?” Javi gestured at the hockey stick Elliot had passed off to Harper, now stretching it even further in front of her to distance herself from her sister’s underwear, using the other hand to plug her nose.

“What?! Desperate times call for desperate measures, Dad. It was actually Harper’s idea.” The girls nodded proudly at their accomplishment, Harper freeing her hand from her nose to fist bump her sister at the execution of their plan.

“Jesus Christ…” Javi muttered to himself under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his temples, “Okay, Lucy? I’m gonna open the door enough so that your sisters can drop a new pair of underwear in there for you, alright?”

“DAD!”

“SORRY!” Javi groaned, trying his best to restrain his frustration from how stressed he was, surrounded by all 3 of his daughters trying to manage the biggest crisis he had dealt with to date. Barely opening the door a crack, Javi pointed to Harper to sneak the hockey stick through the empty space, turning it over in hopes that the underwear had fallen to the floor for her sister to grab.

“Harper that’s my new stick! Are you serious?!” Lucy shouted through the opening in the door, as if she needed another reason to be more enraged than she already was. Harper quickly jerked the stick back, slamming the door behind her, dropping it on the floor out of guilt before shouting back.

“Sorry! I didn’t wanna touch your underwear, that’s gross dude.”

“You got me dirty underwear, are you kidding Harper?!”

“No they’re clean, but like… They’re underwear, it’s nasty. Your butt touches it.”

“True that.” Elliot chimed in, leaning against the wall behind her dad and Harper, adamantly nodding in agreement at her younger sister’s reasoning.

“This is literally the worst day in the history of the world.” Lucy groaned in dismay, Javi now recognizing the soft sobs of his daughter return, his heart breaking and his brain fried at how he was going to manage the rest of this shit show until you got home. Javi tried to shoo away Elliot and Harper once again, but not before Elliot could rub the tips of her fingers and thumb together, silently asking for her promised $10 from her dad. Javi frowned, shaking his head no, Elliot getting the hint enough that now perhaps was not the best time to collect her payment. Tugging at her sister’s sleeve, Harper dragged Elliot back to her room, trying to distance herself from her angry sister as much as possible, once again, leaving Javi and the closed bathroom door with his daughter locked behind it.

Javi leaned his forehead against the door, his face buried in his palms letting out a few deep inhales and exhales to maintain his composure, given the fact that he hadn’t even gotten to the part of helping Lucy she legitimately needed.

“You okay, bud?”

“No. What kind of question is that, Dad?”

“Touché.”

“Okay so… so- what- what do I do now?” Lucy asked, her voice quickly shifting from sass to scared, her words meek and timid as she waited for any sort of guidance about what to do. There was nothing that broke Javi’s heart more than seeing any of his girls anything but happy, and to hear the terror in Lucy’s voice made him absolutely crumble, especially when he definitely was not the ideal person to be aiding in this situation.

“Okay, well, uh- in the cabinet under the sink, there should be a pink box and a purple box in the back corner of the second shelf. Can um- can you uh, check to see if you can find them?”

A soft rustling came from behind the door as Lucy rummaged through the bathroom cabinet, the sound of several items falling to the floor in her scramble. “Okay, I- um, I found them. Which box do I use? Do I use both?”

“Purple. Take one out of the purple box.” Javi quickly responded, letting out a panicked gulp, wanting to make sure he was not adding to his already detrimental embarrassment of having to explain tampons to his daughter. “Okay uh- Jesus- okay you, um- you gotta just uh, pull the little paper part off the back…” He paused, trying to give time for Lucy to follow his inadequate directions, taking her silence as his cue to continue, “and then it should be sticky. And then um, then you gotta, uh- take the sticky side and-”

“Okay, yup, got it, please don’t say anymore.” Javi could practically feel Lucy wincing at his directions, leaving him anxiously drumming his fingers along his forearms as the toilet flushed and sink ran, the bathroom door slowly creaking open to reveal a very sheepish and embarrassed Lucy, eyes pinned to the ground to avoid any direct contact with her dad’s.

“Hey kiddo,” Javi grimaced, trying his best to casually greet his daughter, trying his best to keep things from getting any less weird than they already were, “How you uh, how ya-”

“Dad,” Lucy interrupted, holding up her hand to stop her dad, “I love you, and thank you, but I don’t wanna talk about this ever ever again, okay?”

“Understood.” The two nodded in a silent agreement, eyes still peeled in separate directions as Lucy sped off to her room, promptly closing the door behind her with a loud slam, leaving Javi alone and flabbergasted, sinking down with his back against the wall trying to process the shit storm that had just blown through the Peña household.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in an uncomfortable silence between Javi and the girls, his only peace offering being to bring back 3 bags worth of McDonald’s nuggets and fries, knowing that if Lucy was anything like you, the only thing that was going to bring her any sort of joy from her period pain was endless amounts of deep fried, crispy, salty potatoes, and that fast food (on top of their 10 dollars) was enough bribery to keep Elliot and Lucy from harassing their sister about the events of this morning.

When you arrived home, you were surprised to be greeted by nothing but the sound of the TV, setting your bags down at the front door as you made your way to the living room where you found Javi and the girls sitting on the couch, McDonald’s bags placed in between the uncharacteristically hardy distance now dividing your husband and daughters.

“Hey you guys, how’s it going?” You asked hesitantly, shooting Javi a concerned look at your family’s current set up.

“It’s uh…” Javi paused, looking back over at his girls, all 3 of them burning menacing glares at their dad to keep him from spilling the beans on this morning’s circus, “It’s been an interesting day.”

You cocked your head to the side, feeling even less reassured by the uncomfortable tension brewing in your living room, Javi and the girls now looking even more awkward and apprehensive than they had a few moments ago. You tried to give each of them the silent stare down to see if any of them would break, but whatever pact they had formed before your arrival was holding strong, no one cracking under your investigative pressure.

“Okay… Well, if you guys wanna tell me about it then-”

“NO.” Your daughters shouted in unison, frantically shaking their heads to stop your question.

“Like I said…” Javi grumbled, “It’s been… a day.”

Taglist

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

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mellovanello · 5 months ago

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This scene lives in my head rent free

Like literally I use this irl

„It was my seat this morning, motherfucker“

Little addition: I used it today at Volleyball practice again and my friend who wasn’t there today is the only one there who knows this joke of mine and a girl took a ball even though I wanted to pick it up so I lean closer to a friend and say:

IT WAS MY BALL THIS MORNING, MOTHERFUCKER

and she just stared at me with fear and confusion until I explained it to her with the video. 😭😭

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolos

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celestialprincesse · 9 months ago

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🫶🪐💕

Ghost introducing Soap to single mom!reader and Charlotte I fear😧 jk ghoap x single mom live in my mind rent free💕

Charlotte and Riley both respectively lay asleep against you on Simon's couch as you yourself begin to drift off into the pefcetly worn in cushions, the My Little Pony episode you'd put on for Lottie long forgotten the minute her little head had come in contact with Riley's fluffy back. You don't even realise you're falling asleep until you wake to Riley's barking an hour or so later. Immediately you panic at the missing presence of your daughter, and the K9 that follows her loyally wherever she goes. The first horrified thought which springs to your head is that there's workmen in the building - workmen who you don't know - and Simon isn't here, which makes you distinctly more concerned. You'll adress that thought once you've found your daughter and ruled out any potential danger.

That rational, well thought out plan, flies through one ear and out the other when you hear a foreign laugh in the kitchen, and you're thrown back to that feeling which you'd tried so hard to run from. You try to rationalise with yourself, try to recognise that Simon's flat is more secure than the pentagon, and maybe you're just hearing things or he's watching something on his laptop and - and Charlotte is squealing. Charlotte is squealing in the kitchen and Riley is barking and you're convinced that it's happening all over again.

You come up empty in a search for something you could potentially use to fend off anyone with the intention of hurting your daughter or Riley or you. Weird considering that Simon is SAS, but you don't let yourself dwell as you storm into the kitchen to - to Simon with Charlotte in his arms, and another man bouncing a tennis ball on the floor, hence the barking. "Everything alright, love?" Simon immediately makes his way over to you, a dirty blond brow furrowed in concern, keeping his distance whilst still being close enough for you to reach out to him. "Ye look like ye've seen a ghost." The other man pipes up, and then proceeds to laugh at his unintentional pun, all whilst you stare at Simon like - well like you've seen a ghost.

"I - you - Charlotte - she was -" You stutter aimlessly before sighing, letting your head fall into your hands, whilst Simon pulls you into his chest, Lottie smushed and protesting between the two of you, muffling the apologies Simon whispers into your hair, handing your daughter back. "So yer jus not going to introduce me to the lass. Right, okay." The heavy Scots accent pipes back up sarcastically from the corner, leaving you jumping out of your skin whn you remember that he's there. "Ah, right, no, yeah. This is Johnny." Simon grunts, almost a little embarrased as he rubs the back of his neck, Charlotte gripping his calf, pleading for ice cream. "We work together. He's a pain in my ass - backside. Pain in my backside." The soldier picks your daughter up and swings her onto his hip with practised ease as he moves for the freezer, where he's got a constant supply of her favourite chocolate ice cream.

"I've heard a lot about ye." Johnny smirks wickedly as he gives you a polite hug, looking between you, Simon, Charlotte and Riley like he knows something he shouldn't. "And yer bairn, o'course. Ghost talks about her like she's his own." "Stop exagerratin' MacTavish." Simon's voice is muffled by the clink of bowls as he scoops some ice cream with an impressive proficiency despite his one hand. With that, Johnny gives you a conspiratorial grin, like you're both in on a joke that Simon doesn't understand. "So, does 'e talk about me much? Or the other lads?" Johnny's line of questioning makes you blush as you give a slow shake of your head, looking almost apologetic.

"M' not trying to scare her away, Johnny. Pack it in."

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pencilofawesomeness · 8 months ago

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The JJK x TWST crossover that started living rent free in my head >:'D

Random Doodle Edition

Ahem, so, uhh, turns out the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen fit pretty well as Night Raven College students, temperament-wise, and that was all the excuse I needed. Yes the ages get funky but whatever. Happy high school AU except they still get cool powers and Trauma(tm). Just less than JJK canon so I count it as a win.

I also may or may not have written an entire oneshot (here on AO3) for some freshmen Satoru & Suguru bonding, featuring me still bullying Satoru over his funky eyes.

Image Text (and me rambling more) underneath the cut

Gojo Satoru (of the Jupiter Clan)

Ignihyde Housewarden Year: Junior Species: Sky Dragon (Fae) Club: Movie Analysis Club Unique Magic: Six Eyes—pretty much just like canon Six Eyes. They can see far and wide and out of normal sight, and they can see magic in a highly detailed manner. They are also powered by magic that just, never stops ever, so he can decrease or increase the power/range at will to a degree, but technically, cutting off magic from them altogether will blind him. Also he has an inherited magic that he by no means asked for, which is, sad drumroll, Gate of the Underworld. (There are no shrouds in this AU, just me finding ways to forever make Satoru instrumental to the well-being of the world to his own detriment. I have waaaaay more thoughts about the "Jupiter Clan of dragons" and what that actually entails, but they are still jumbled and shifting, so. Maybe later.)

Geto Suguru (of the Draconia Clan)

Diasomnia Housewarden Year: Junior Species: Night Dragon (Fae) Club: Equestrian Club Unique Magic: Magic-eater—can consume and nullify any spell and gain its base magic. With minimum side effects. Mostly. :)

Satoru and Suguru are their usual brand of special-grade menaces, being the only two adolescent dragon fae in the world, buttttt they still inevitably become besties. With Shoko too, of course, who has no fear and will mess with them as they see fit.

Suguru is essentially Malleus in this AU, though in Suguru-fashion, he's way more stubborn when it comes to trying to catch up. (Translating him being new to sorcery to being new to technology was surprisingly low-hanging fruit.) Meanwhile I borrowed the Jupiter name/legacy because it was fitting and made the Gojo Clan into a long-lived dynasty of antisocial dragons who fist-fight and deal with Phantoms and recently accidentally became a tech empire, which is pretty close to the Sorcerer Family vibe a la TWST, if I say so myself.

There's definitely a lot of backstory I have in mind for the two of them. Neither of them beat teen parenthood (they are currently Malleus-aged, so 178 years old, but that's still teenagehood for a dragon/fae) and acquired children through various means, much to the consternation of their elders/court. I might develop/write more solid ideas later, but Suguru has a reverse characterization moment when he finds two starved/beaten human children (the twins) and begins his journey of losing all intrinsic racism via love, and Satoru still somehow gets his shit wrecked by Toji (probably a heist gone violent or something) and then finds out he had abandoned children: human Tsumiki and half-fae Megumi.

Nobara Orientation Comic:

Nobara: Obviously, I'm going to get ~Pomefiore~ because I'm elegant and graceful. (And a badass queen, of course)

Mirror: The nature of your soul is... Savanaclaw

Nobara, getting dragged away from the Mirror by Maki: HEY WAIT A MINUTE! STOP MESSING WITH ME YOU DIRTY SMUGED HUNK OF JUNK AND I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT I THINK OF—

(Nobara gets her reverse-Epel moment, but she adapts quickly. Especially because she still comes to have mad respect for Maki.)

Ieri Shoko

Ignihyde Vice-Housewarden Year: Junior Species: Merfolk (Nurse Shark) Club: Science Club Unique Magic: Reverse—rewinds a target to its previous state within twenty four hours. The longer within the range, the harder/more magic it will take, especially for larger targets, so realistically her range is less. (For example, if someone cracked a piece of glass 24 hours ago, Shoko could restore it, but a day-old wound on a living being would be much harder.)

Making Shoko a mermaid was a joke to myself at first but then I liked it and it spiraled and now Nurse Shark Shoko is unironically one of my favorite things that I have drawn. The joke was right there too, but it's mostly fun to me because nurse sharks are docile and apathetic creatures, for the large part (they are still sharks lol), and I think match her temperament well.

Also when Satoru pestered the previous housewarden enough times to accidentally gain the title for himself, he made Shoko his vice (mostly because he trusted her) to make sure he never had to do the paperwork and the boring parts. She makes him do it anyway. To the dorm, she is less of a vice and more of a "dragon wrangler," which is still extremely appreciated.

Zen'in Maki

Savanaclaw Housewarden Year: Sophomore Species: Human Club: Track & Field Unique Magic: N/A—Maki doesn't actually have magic of her own, but she is unnaturally resistant to most magic. She can, however, use magic/cast spells through a magic-capable familiar.

She befriended a phoenix when she was younger, having survived an encounter with a wild youth. (idk what I want the details to be but I think it would be cool if she had some related burns to it, with the idea that these creatures are rare and volatile and hard for normal humans to handle without high magic resistance.) His name is Torch because I don't think Maki would put that much thought into a name, so long as its not completely stupid sounding. I almost named the phoenix Jogo but I refrained for my own sanity.

Inumaki Toge

Savanaclaw Year: Sophomore Species: Human Club: Board Game Club Unique Magic: Reality Speak—pretty much just how Cursed Speech works but with a world-friendly name. Also it can apply to inanimate objects as well. The power and scope of the command is proportional to the magic required.

Toge gets an overall nicer time in this AU because he doesn't have cursed speech 24/7 and therefore can speak normally. Though the idea of him being able to affect people/bend reality with his words does freak people out. I imagine he had a rough childhood nonetheless, because why not, leading him to be less verbal than he would have been otherwise.

Okkotsu Yuuta

Diasomnia Year: Sophomore Species: Human Club: Board Game Club Unique Magic: Wraith Pact-maker—he can enhance/bolster a ghost's magic/presence through making a link with himself. It has to be mutual, and it can last for any duration of time, although actively using the link does require magic. The ghost in question gains magic and grounding from Yuuta, and Yuuta can use the ghost's magic, including their UM, if applicable. He can have multiple links, but the first and main recipient of this magic is his childhood friend Rika.

Between her longlasting connection with Yuuta and her brutal death, she is a more wraith-like and powerful ghost. Her unique magic was to copy other people's UMs, which Yuuta can use through her in short bursts.

I didn't have space nor solid ideas for unique magics for the Hasaba twins and the Fushiguros, so I didn't do full bios for them. Later, perhaps. All of the girls are sophomores and Megumi is a freshman. Tsumiki and Nanako are sharing their social brain cell and trading stories of stupid things their dragon dads/older brothers/untitled guardians have done, while Megumi is helping budding-gamer Mimiko learn Pokemon strats. I love the idea of them all being friends, maybe after minimal difficulty in the girls' first year, likely on account of the twins being a little Sebek-shaped, in terms of wanting to be The Best Guards for Suguru, etc etc.

I technically have way more ideas for other characters and other dorms, but, I will end this here, for now. I am trying to reign myself in lmao.

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supernaturalgirl20 · 2 years ago

Note

I’ve got Joel living rent-free in my head, too.

Can I get something where Joel takes up for reader, and puts an idiot in his place for disrespecting his girl?

I’ve loved Joel from the game but the way Pedro plays him has me 🫠😍. Thank you for the request my love, gotta love a protective Joel. Hope you enjoy 😉

Someday

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, cursing, mentions of prostitution, possessive Joel, feelings but no feelings.

A/N: requests still open for Joel Miller 🥰

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

You can’t remember how it started exactly. Or when for that matter. All you do know is that it was a mutual agreement to keep it business-like.

An outlet for you both to get some relief when the strain of this new life took its toll. Or when either one of you had an itch to scratch. Joel didn’t do feelings, and that was ok because neither did you or at least you didn’t. Now though, those lines are beginning to blur and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hide it from him.

You knew if he ever found out, he’d run. He’d shut himself off from you and your heart would break. So, you don’t kiss when you fuck, don’t hold each other after and you don’t stay the night.

At least you didn’t. Now though, everything has changed.

***

You can feel his gaze on you from where he stands, leaning against the brick wall near the alleyway. He’d insisted that you weren’t going alone, especially not after what happened with Tess.

No amount of protesting on your part could change his mind. Joel Miller was a stubborn man and while most of the time you admired him for it, right now, you wanted to punch him.

Mack, one of Roberts's lackeys, was sitting across from you with a sick sinister smirk on his face as his gaze drifted from you to Joel. “Couldn’t haven’t left your guard dog at home?” His head tilts in Joel’s direction and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to remain calm.

Trying hard not to punch this idiot in the fucking face. “Listen, are you interested or not? There are other smugglers in this area that I could go to.”

He sneers, leaning back in his chair with his arm slung across the thigh. “Oh, I’m interested all right, but not in your ration cards. Was thinking maybe you’d give me a go of that pussy? I mean if it’s good enough for Joel fucking Miller, it’s good enough for me.”

Your stomach churns at the thought of this man with his hands all over you, you’d rather get killed by a clicker but then you let your gaze flicker to the man you’ve come to love. His face hardened into an almost permanent scowl and how you’d give anything for him to have a small bit of happiness.

“Say I agree,” you say, voice low, hoping that Joel can’t make out what you're talking about. “I want the battery first. In perfect working condition or the deal is off.”

Mack sits up, his face a mixture of shock and delight at the prospect of getting his hands on you. “Damn, I gotta say I didn’t think you’d go for it. Then again, you ain’t nothin’ but a cheap whore…”

“The fuck you just say?”

You can see the fear creeping quickly into Mack’s face as he stares behind you to the source of the deep husky voice. Your gaze drifts upwards to find Joel standing directly behind you, his face stern and filled with rage.

“Now I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Joel, I was just playing is all.” Mack gulps nervously as he quickly stands, his chair falling onto the ground as he holds his hands up in surrender.

Joel steps forward but before he can get anywhere near Mack, you grab a hold of his arm pulling him back. His eyes drift to yours, his eyebrows furrowed in question before they drop to where your hand is touching him.

“Leave it, please,” you plead, and his gaze meets yours once again.

“Yeah, you heard her, leave it. Besides, she offered first.” Mack is slowly backing up but a growl rises from deep within Joel’s chest and he falters.

“What the fuck is he talk in’ about?” His eyes are boring into you, and you silently curse Mack and his big fucking mouth. “It’s nothing ok, just leave it. Let’s go.”

“No.” His voice is harsh and angry as he pulls out of your grasp turning his attention back to Mack. “What do you mean she offered first?”

“Told her I’d get her the car battery if she let me fuck her. She was gonna do it too. I mean I gotta hand it to ya, having two women on the go, you must be doin’ somethin’ right. The least you could do is pimp them out, make a living.”

Mack continues on his tangent, and you can see Joel getting angrier and angrier, his fists clenching at his sides but it isn’t until Mack calls you a dirty whore that he loses it.

Joel lunges at him, his fist connecting with Mack’s jaw knocking him on his ass. The squeal of pain that he emits as blood gushes from his nose draws the attention of some people and you pray you can stop Joel before a FEDRA agent arrives.

He continues to punch him over and over until Mack apologises to you. “Joel, please. Please we gotta go, he isn’t worth it.”

You plead over and over but it doesn’t get through, not until you place your hand on his shoulder and then his eyes turn to you. “Let’s go home.”

He looks back down at Mack and whispers something in his ear before he stands letting the man go. Turning to you he huffs out a breath in frustration, his face stern and nostrils flaring. Then he turns, grabs your wrist in his hand and pulls you along behind him back to his apartment.

The door closes with a bang, and he marches over to the kitchen, grabs a glass and his god-awful whiskey and pours himself a drink before downing it. The glass bangs on the table as he finishes.

You just stand there staring, hands wringing nervously as you take in the tension of his shoulders. “Joel.”

“Don’t!” He barks, his gaze turning towards you. “What the fuck were you thinkin’? Were you really gonna whore yourself out for the battery?” His voice is laced with anger as he steps towards you.

“I-I was just…. look it’s only sex. It wouldn’t have meant anything. Besides, it would have gotten you the battery and you could finally get out of here and find Tommy.” You turn away ashamed you had even considered it.

“And you thought I’d be ok with that, did ya? Thought I’d want to share what’s mine?” His voice breaks at the end, the hint of softness creeping in.

You turn to face him and startle at how close he’s gotten. Your eyes meet and for a brief moment, the world stops. You can’t hear your own breathing your heart is thundering against your chest so damn hard.

There’s a tension in the air and you feel something shift between you. His eyes drift briefly down to your lips before your gaze meets again. He steps closer. Invading your space and filling all your senses with him.

He smells like the bar of soap that you spent weeks trying to save for, that hint of citrus invading your senses and reminding you of the time before the world went to shit. He smells of sweat and dirt and that nasty whiskey he drinks every night.

He smells like home. Or as close as you’ll ever get to one now. His arm slides along the curve of your hip coming to rest on the small of your back, palm outstretched as he pulls you into him.

Your hand rests on his chest and you can feel his heart beating fast beneath it. You want to ask what he’s thinking. Or why he reacted the way he did but you don’t get the chance when his lips crash suddenly into your own.

It’s hot and frantic and his hand is gripping your hip tightly while the other grips you around the neck pulling you impossibly close as his mouth devours you.

You almost buckle when his tongue licks along the seam of your bottom lip, begging for entry and he groans lewdly when you open up to him.

He lifts you off your feet ever so slightly as he moves around the apartment towards his bed, pushing you back onto it as he stands staring down at you.

“Take it off,” he commands, his voice raspy and it sends a spark of arousal straight to your core. You quickly remove your underwear and trousers and slide back along the bed.

“All of it.”

You raise your eyebrows in question. He wants you naked! You’ve never been fully nude before, not with Joel. He always wants to be prepared to run. He can sense your hesitation. “I won’t ask again, darlin’.”

Lifting your top over your head you fling it onto the ground and your heart flutters nervously as you sit completely bare to him. His eyes rake over your naked curves and he groans, the outline of his cock prominent beneath his jeans.

His hands work off his belt and trousers and you assume he’ll leave it at that but then he grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head tossing it with yours on the floor.

“Hands and knees, darlin’.” He breathes as he takes his cock in his hand and pumps himself. You don’t waste any time, obeying him immediately. The rough pad of his fingers runs along the smooth skin of your back, and you shudder under his ministrations.

“I’ll show you, darlin’ whose pussy this is.” His voice is low, and you wonder silently if he meant for you to hear.

The head of his cock runs along your slick gathering your arousal and your breath hitches when he notches at your entrance and sinks in.

“God damn. So tight…so wet…always so wet, darlin’. All this for me?”

You moan into the tattered sheets beneath you as he fucks into you, his pace is brutal as he grips your hips tight.

“Yes.” You cry as you come for the first time, clenching tight around him.

“Damn straight this is my pussy. MINE! Ya hear. Fuck.” Suddenly he’s pulling out and flipped you into your back as he nestled between your thighs and sank back into your heat.

His hand grabs your thigh and lifts your leg over his ass as he rolls his hips into you. He’s a little softer this time. His lips caress the skin of your neck and breasts before pulling the bud of your nipple into his mouth.

His tongue licks in circles around its peak and you arch in response, your body tingling as you come hard again. “Joel.” You whimper and it somehow spurs him on as he begins to pound into you. The makeshift bed squeaked slightly with each thrust.

“Mine,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. “My lady. My darlin’. And I ain’t…. sharin’. You got that, ever.” His voice becomes raspy and his breathing ragged as he thrusts twice more before quickly pulling out and spilling onto your stomach.

He leans down and kisses you softly. Once. Twice. Before he pulls away and cleans you up, ordering you to dress again.

Your heart breaks a little and your stomach feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. He’s kicking you out, again. Why did you think that tonight was any different? That you might actually mean something to him?

You dress quickly and go to grab your stuff when his hand on your wrist stops you. “Where you goin’?”

“Back to mine, like always.” He shakes his head and takes the bag from you, placing it on the ground. “I think it’s about time you start livin’ here. Need to start letting those fuckers know you're my lady.”

“What about Tess?” You ask, voice betraying your jealousy. You think you see the hint of a smirk on his face, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears.

“She’s a big girl. Besides, she ain’t my girl and she has her own spot. Now come on, darlin’. Let's get some rest.”

***

You brush your fingers gently along the scruff of his cheek and he stirs, a groan slipping from his lips as he seeks you out. The arm that was resting on his chest now slung across your hips, pulling you back into him.

Joel Miller has a hold on you. One that you cannot explain. One you're not sure even he knows he has on you, and it scares you a little, but if this is all you’ll ever have with him, then you’ll take it.

You’ll take him for all that he is. A shell of the man he once was with no penchant for feelings or emotions other than anger. A man who has suffered too many losses that he has cut himself off from ever being happy.

A man who kills first, asks questions later and protects those he holds dear, fiercely. This is why you want to help him get to his brother Tommy no matter what so that he can have a chance at being happy again. And if nothing else, simply because you love him.

And maybe he’ll bring you with him?

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