#joe wants our guns

[ham1lton]

‘cause i’m that bitch.

pairing: charles leclerc x fashionista!reader.

warnings: nothing! just reader being a bad bitch.

faceclaim: rihanna.

summary: charles keeps trying to tell everyone he’s in a relationship with you, the it girl of the fashion world. yet, no one believes him. he’s very keen on changing that.

— part two of my 500 followers celebration ♡ —

liked by vogue, zendaya and 3,822,728 others.

yourcompanyname: our boss y/n l/n at the cfda gala last night where she was awarded the fashion icon award. pictures of her arriving to, during and after the event.

ynswife: ‘do my tits bother you? they're COVERED… in swarovski crystals girl!’

-> user1: oh she ate this look up so bad.

user7: i remember when she was still interning for vogue and now she’s one of the biggest makeup and clothing moguls in the world 🥺

-> yourcompanyname: thanks for being with us since the beginning!! check your dms for a surprise! 🙈

user5: that’s my favourite fashion designer!

user6: did y’all see the post-award interview? she was giggling saying she was going to celebrate with someone after getting the award…. i wonder who it was.

-> user9: probably just her best friend. they’re really close and she helps her get ready for events like this.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT.

— phone conversation between CHARLES LECLERC and Y/N L/N.

CHARLES LECLERC: they don’t believe it! they don’t believe i’m dating you!

Y/N L/N: they’re probably joking babe-

LECLERC: they called me a french twink! i’m not even french!

L/N: i know babe.

LECLERC: we need to ramp it up. can i wear one of your designs? maybe they’ll understand when i’m dressed in your fashion.

L/N: i have the perfect outfits for you. i’ll send them tomorrow!

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,383,937 others.

gqmens: charles leclerc is our new cover boy, dressed in yourcompanyname’s menswear from head to toe.

landonorris: can you get me some clothes 😩

-> user6: BUY EM 🤨

user2: idc if he’s a stalker, he’s sooooo fine i’m sorry.

-> dumbass1: he can stalk me deadass. go all joe goldberg on me 😍😩

user89: he’s really trying to make us believe that he’s dating her…. we’re not that gullible dumbass!

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

liked by yourcompanyname, vogue and 1,728,727 others.

y/nsfanpage: last night y/n was seen at the movie premiere of ‘material girl’, the second film that she’s produced under her production company!

user3: queen!! don’t know what looks better, her or the movie!

user8: some vroom vroom guy is saying he’s dating her….

-> user9: imagine 😭

user7: he’s even buying clothes to pretend he’s sponsored by her that’s crazy 😭😭😭😭

-> user5: she needs a restraining order i’m so serious.

user6: she looks so good!! 😍

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT

— phone conversation between CHARLES LECLERC and Y/N L/N.

LECLERC: we need to pull out the big guns.

L/N: if you’re sure…

LECLERC: i just want people to understand and believe i’m dating you. i don’t want people to believe i’m a weird stalker.

L/N: oh babe, i’m so sorry. you know what? i’ll take the day off tomorrow, we can go out and spend all day doing what you’d like to do.

LECLERC: all i want to do is be with you.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

liked by ynswifey, charlieeupdates and 2,628,982 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: after initial disbelief from the internet, business mogul and it girl y/n l/n has been spotted cosying up with formula one driver charles leclerc in an art gallery in paris. how are we feeling about this new couple ham1ltons?

user7: HE STOLE MY WIFE!!!!!! BOOOO

user6: i apologise mr leclerc i was unfamiliar with your game.

-> user7: don’t ever doubt the game of a peculiar white dude.

user78: she looks so good even blurry.

user67: that outfit is crazy he looks like a mime.

-> user23: he’s never beating the french allegations.

user12: first pic is actually so cute!!

user34: i still think it’s photoshopped.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

taglist: @lemon-lav @firelily-mimi @formulaal @sya-skies @namgification @raevyng @ajvaix @demvnsriot @blupblupfish @ravisinghs-wife @f1kenzzz @d3kstar @wildflowermarns @ironmaiden1313 @evie-119 @decafmickey @nichmeddar @casperlikej @cuteskz @charlesleclercsonlywife @booksandflowrs @mxdi0 @alexmarie29 @iloveyou3000morgan @fate-posts @luckyladycreator2 @23victoria (don’t see yourself or wanna be removed? send an ask!)

— don’t wanna miss an update? join my taglist!

#jayde’s works ☆ #ham1lton 500 ☾ #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 texts #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one x black reader #charles leclerc texts #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x black reader

[fob4ever]

i was at a bookstore yesterday that had a copy of the kerrang: living loud book that featured the FOB watergun fight article i've never seen transcribed anywhere so i made a transcript of it for archival purposes. enjoy! from kerrang, may 2005.

For a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun while wearing just underpants, Fall Out Boy bassist Peter Wentz looks remarkably chipper. Especially when you consider the person about to unload in his face is guitarist and vocalist Patrick Stump, grinning madly despite the fact that fellow six-stringer Joe Trohman has a pistol to his temple. He in turn is firmly in the firing line of drummer Andy Hurley, cackling loudly with his finger hovering over the trigger.

Passers-by stop and stare, waiting for the inevitable, messy climax of this "Reservoir Dogs" scenario. The tension mounts, onlookers brace themselves, the band get ready to open fire. Suddenly it happens.

"Argh!" screams Wentz as several litres of icy water soak him. "That's fucking cold!"

No, Fall Out Boy aren't about to blow each other away, They're having a water fight for K!'s benefit in a car park at the Chicago stop on travelling punk circus Warped Tour, where they're knocking out their "softcore" wares ("We're basically a hardcore band that couldn't cut it as a hardcore band," laughs Wentz) on the main stage alongside big hitters like The Offspring, Avenged Sevenfold and My Chemical Romance. The Windy City is more than just another stop for them; Chicago is Fall Out Boy's hometown, the place where they formed out of the ashes of their old hardcore bands, and where they still live with their parents- who are here for today's show - during the few weeks of the year they're not on tour.

It all started for Fall Out Boy here in 2001 when the members wanted a break from playing in their various bands. Long time friends Wentz and Hurley got together with hardcore associate Joe Trohman to do something a bit less heavy. Following a conversation about avant-metallers Neurosis in a bookstore, Trohman introduced Stump to the rest of the band. When their other bands folded, they took on Fall Out Boy full time.

"We wanted to do things before we were ready," chuckles Peter Wentz fondly of the early days of DIY tours for the benefit of the one or two people who would show up. "We'd plan two-week tours, just to see the world. Nobody would book us, so we had to do it all on our own."

"A lot of bands have scenes to go into and surround themselves with those people," says Stump. "We had no scene, so we would just play anywhere, with whoever."

FOB have come a long way from their humble roots. Right now they're America's fastest rising band. Radio smash 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down' has placed them squarely in the mainstream, having spent three weeks as the Number One song on MTV's 'TRL', a prime-time show usually devoted to pop acts like Maroon 5 and Ashlee Simpson. So dizzying their Stateside assent has been, they had to cancel their recent European tour in order to play the MTV Music Video Awards, where they are also nominated for 'Sugar...'. Thankfully, FOB haven't let the screaming adoration turn them into big-headed twats.

"A piece of shit with legs on it could walk onto 'TRL' and people would still go crazy," laughs Wentz. "That stuff just goes straight by me. With the fast turnover in the music industry, how can anyone have an ego"

Andy Hurley chips in. "You can be today's main stage and tomorrow's trash."

That's to find out tomorrow, though. Today among the madness of trying to plan anything on the Warped Tour - stage times are decided daily by lottery - Fall Out Boy have to try and find time for hanging out with family and friends.

"Three weeks on Warped is like three months on a normal tour," says Peter Wentz.

"Home becomes like Atlantis on tour, you wonder if it actually exists after a while," adds Patrick Stump.

Now FOB are big stars, a lot of old 'friends' have been coming out of the woodwork. Joe Trohman and Peter Wentz have polarised views on those who didn't give a toss back in the day suddenly becoming your pal once you've made it.

"The way I look at it is if someone's a dick to you and you don't know them, so what?" says Trohman. "Just care about who did support you, keep those important people close, not the people who five years ago called you a loser."

"I work the opposite way!" Wentz counters, before adding darkly, "The people I think about most are enemies. My brain works on revenge!"

Though a tight knit group of close friends, Peter Wentz is clearly Fall Out Boy's spokesman. He does most of the talking during the interview and writes the lyrics, and seems like the most driven one of the lot. As well as doing Fall Out Boy, Wentz has also written a book with tattoo artist Joe Tesaure, 'The Boy With The Thorn In His Side'. It's a dark, twisted tale that could have come straight from the brain of Tim Burton.

"I've always been into Roahl Dahl and people like that, and I was friends with a tattoo artist at the time and we came up with this idea to do a book together," he explains. "It wasn't something I felt fitted in with what Fall Out Boy is, I hate when bands do something that's not 'them'. The book is what it is, and Fall Out Boy is what we are."

Despite all thise talk of nightmares and revenge, FOB are upbeat individuals, enjoying their newfound success, while refusing to allow success to go to their heads. They'll tell you they don't like the shallowness of groupies or industry parties, and that the trappings of rock stardom hold no appeal.

"I don't feel like I deserve it," says Wentz in closing. "It's not like, 'this amount of time and this amount of shows = this kind of bus'. I appreciate what we've got. We've toured in a tiny van and it was cool, but now we're having new adventures living like this. I don't feel we deserve it more than any other bands do."

He surveys the sumptuosly appointed tour bus for a moment before chuckling heartily.

"Actually, that's a lie, we totally deserve it more than anyone else! Ha ha!"

#yayyyyyy #article

[thewalkingthread]

"He's Mine" - R.G.

pairing: rick grimes x f!reader

summary: s4 ep16. Joe's group finds you in the woods. reader is the one targeted instead of Carl

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of sexual assault, blood, gore

a/n: this scene is my Roman Empire

You were tired, exhausted from the day's journey. It's been three days since the attack at the prison. Three days since you've seen most of your family. You were lucky enough to have found Rick and Carl after everything went down, even luckier when Michonne came knocking on the front door of the house you were hiding out in.

It was nighttime now, you sat in the front seat of a rundown truck while Carl laid down in the backseat. It was unlikely that you'd get much sleep being so vulnerable in the open right now but Rick and Michonne insisted that you get some rest.

Your eyes stayed on the pair as they sat on a log off the side of the road. Every so often Rick would look into the truck, his eyes locking on yours before he returned back to his conversation with Michonne.

Things with Rick has always been a bit confusing for the both of you. It was clear from the moment you met that there was something there between you. Of course, nothing ever came out of it. He was married and desperately trying to fix the brokenness in his family.

Now that Lori has passed, it's been even weirder. Neither one of you wanted to make the first move and burst the safety bubble you were in, in terms of friendship. Nonetheless, you both knew you cared for one another deeply.

Your eyes dart to the woods when you see movement. Your heart drops as you see a few men creeping in the trees, eyes directly on Rick and Michonne. You knew what was about to happen. You weighed your options. You could scream and warn them, but you had no idea how many of them there were, nor do you know their intentions.

You guys are incredibly unarmed, nothing good would come out of this.

"Carl." You mumble quietly, trying not to make it obvious that you weren't alone in the truck. You have no idea how many of them are our there, no idea how many people were looking at you right now.

Carl stirred and grumbled slightly at your call, you shush him immediately.

"Carl, I need you to very slowly and quietly lay down on the floor of the truck. Keep the blanket over you completely." You mumble. "There are people surrounding us. I need you to hide until me or your dad tell you to come out. Do you understand me?" Your heart raced as you saw the men creep out from the treeline.

Carl quietly did what you said. "Y/N? What's happening?" He was scared. Carl tries his best to keep up with his dad and be a man, but he's still just a boy. It's a scary world now.

"Everything will be okay. Stay hidden, no matter what you hear, okay? Promise me." Your breathe hitched.

"I promise."

That was the last thing he said before one of the men shoved his gun against Rick's temple. You jumped in your seat as another man smacked on the window next to you. You tried your best to avoid glancing back at Carl.

The man grinned at you through the mirror, the creepiest grin you've ever seen. You couldn't hear what the other men were saying to Rick, but eventually a few more men came into view.

The creep tapped on the window, licking his lips as he stared.

Daryl strolled up to the group, it looked like they knew each other?

"Joe!" Daryl yelled, giving a name to the mystery man. You could tell he was trying to talk down the man that held a gun to Rick's head. It looked like whatever Daryl was saying was working, the man still held his gun against Rick but it looked like he was thinking about what Daryl was saying. All hope and relief you felt when your eyes met his vanished when two men grabbed Daryl, punching and kicking him.

Your heart drops as the other man throws Michonne to the ground. The door of the truck swings open and you pray that Carl is brave enough to be silent.

The man grabs you roughly, pulling you out of the truck before patting you down and throwing your pocket knife a few feet away. You fought to wiggle out of his grip but he pushed you against the ground faster than you could blink.

"Shhh.." He says into your ear. "We're gonna have some fun, sweets."

"Leave her be!" You could hear Rick yell over all the commotion. The grunts of Daryl filled your ears as he got punched and kicked only a few feet away from you.

The man on top of you was chuckling as you tried to fight him off, clawing at him and squirming to get out from underneath him.

"Listen, it was me. It was just me." Rick grumbles to Joe.

"See, now that's right. That's not some damn lie." Joe chuckles. "Look, we can settle this. We're reasonable men."

"Get off of me you sick bastard!" You shout, spitting at the man. His hands found it's way to your chest and you screamed as he touched you.

"First, we're going to beat Daryl to death. Then the girl. Then when Dan finishes having his fun with that one over there, we'll all have a turn." The smugness in his voice was deafening.

"Then I'm going to shoot you and then we'll be square." Laughter leaves Joe's body.

"Let her go." Rick says again, as your being turned onto your stomach.

You wanted to cry as Dan pressed your face into the dirt. The pain was forgotten as the sound of his belt buckle clanking rang through your ears.

"This is going to be a whole lot worse for you if you don't stop fighting." Dan grunts into your ear, pressing against your butt. Sobs begin to leave your mouth as reality of what was about to happen sets in.

There was no hope.

The man tugs at your jeans, trying to pull them down.

A gun fires. Everyone seems to pause for a moment. Dan stops for a moment and you take the opportunity to look up, praying that none of you were hit by the bullet.

You see Rick take a swing at Joe before Joe hits him right back, knocking him to the ground. Dan immediately goes back to what he was doing, trying to rip your clothes off of you. You reach for you pocket knife that was just out of reach.

Your cries filled at air when Dan pins you down once again.

"What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?"

Then a squelching sound fills the air before a body thuds to the ground. This time everyone freezes in surprise. You look back at Rick to see him completely covered in blood from his nose to his chest. He spits out blood and skin and your eyes fall onto Joe's limp body on the ground, blood gushing out of his throat.

Fuck.

Michonne doesn't waste a beat as she grabs a gun and shoots the guy holding her before taking out the ones that held Daryl.

Dan is on his feet in seconds once he realizes he's the only one left. He pulls you up, pressing against you as he holds a knife to your throat.

"I'll kill her. I'll- I'll kill her!" He shouts as Michonne points the gun at him.

"Let her go!" She demands.

Rick pulls a knife out of Joe, standing up and balancing himself. His eyes lock onto Dan, it was almost like he had tunnel vision. He pants.

"He's mine."

Rick takes a few strides towards you and you feel Dan's grip on you loosen as he's consumed with fear. He pushes you forward, staring to beg Rick for mercy.

Daryl catches you from hitting the ground as you watch Rick stab Dan over and over again. Michonne stands by you, trying to block your view of the slaughter.

"Carl." You whisper, realizing that he was still tucked inside the truck. "C-carl." You wiggle out of Daryl's grip, running to the truck and swinging the back door open.

You could see Carl's figure shaking underneath the blanket. "Carl." You say again. "Come on out, it's okay." You whisper. Slowly he peaks his head out, once his eyes meet yours, his body instantly relaxes and he's pushing himself off the ground and throwing himself into your arms.

You, Carl and Michonne stayed in the truck for the rest of the night while Daryl and Rick stayed outside. Nobody talked. Rick looked to be in his head.

Carl laid on across the back seat, his head resting on my lap. You tried to lull him to sleep but it was clear that nobody would be getting a blink of sleep after what just played out.

When the sun started to rise you asked Michonne to take your place, not wanting Carl to be alone. Daryl had gone out to scout the area.

You poured some water onto a clothe and sat down in front of Rick, settled between his legs but leaving enough space to make it appropriate.

His eyes flickered to yours as you wiped the blood off his face.

“Should’ve saved the water.” His voice was hoarse. You shook your head, trying your best to clean him.

“He shouldn’t see you like this.” You say calmly, wiping his hands clean once his face and neck were clean. Rick watched you intently.

“Are you okay?” His voice softens as he asks. You clear your throat, flashbacks of last night playing through your head. Ricks clean hand reaches up and his thumb rubs your cheek softly.

You were able to catch sight of your face in the car mirrors. Red scuff marks littered your face where you were pressed into the ground.

“I’m okay, it’s not that bad.” You shrug. Rick stared into your eyes, his hands still holding your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, really holding your gaze. Your chest tightens and you know you won’t be able to fight the tears.

Rick let’s go of your face but pulls your body into his immediately. You let the tears fall as he held you. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered in your ear. “I will never let anything happen to you. Ever.” He kept apologizing, his voice cracking every so often.

“You’re safe.” He says. “You’re safe with me.”

And you knew that he was telling the truth.

#Rick grimes #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead one shot #Rick grimes one shot #Twd #Rick grimes fanfiction #Rick grimes fanfic #Carl grimes #Daryl Dixon #the walking dead fic #Rick grimes fluff #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n

[littlepadika]

Joel thoughts… What about Petal had a close encounter with an infected while little (Joel of course gets them out of it) and ever since then Petal has been scared to be little cause she feels guilty for putting her and Joel at risk so Joel is trying to coax her into little space and make her feel safe. 💝

noooo dis has me so so emo 😢 (thanks for ur patience bb). i hope you likie 💕

Close l Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Warnings: DDLG, scary situation, angy joel, angst and comfort, talk about littlespace

It was supposed to be safe, damnit. He had scouted this trail a few days ago to make sure there were no infected. The area around the meadow seemed quiet and secluded. Close enough to the border that the town took turns checking. It was sunny and all the wild flowers were in bloom. You were so excited to finally get out.

He should never have taken you there.

It was perfect for a moment. The sun lighting up every corner of the meadow and you had brought him a flower crown. You were in littlespace, not paying attention. Fuck, he wasn't paying attention. And that's when they came. Out of nowhere. Two of them. Running across the field, their horrible faces pointed right at you.

"Petal!" He had dropped everything and ran to you. He dropped his gun. What the hell was he thinking.

"Daddy!" Your wide smile now a wide scream as you met him halfway. You cling onto him and refuse to move.

"Come on, baby girl." He grabs you by the shoulders and tries to pull you back towards where his gun is lying under the shade of the tree. "We gotta run. Come on!"

"Daddy!" You're too scared. Frozen to the spot. You're clawing at his t-shirt like you're trying to crawl inside. And the infected are getting closer. It's the first time in a long time that he's seen one so up close. You look behind your shoulder and shriek. He feels his panic rise.

"Fuck fuck." Joe grunts. He can hardly focus. His heartbeat is loud in his ears and there's this awful sensation that he's been here before. He heaves you over his shoulder and makes a run for it. He knows he has about a five seconds to grab his gun and making the shot.

Joel couldn't tell you how he managed it. Managed to shoot the two in pursuit. He blacked out. All he knew is that he couldn't get you to talk for a few minutes.

"Hey... hey... you're safe." He held you close to his chest, blinking back his own tears that bubbled up.

"Daddy... daddy..." was all you were whimpering. Like you were stuck.

Other folk nearby heard the shots and showed up. Joel told them what happened.

"But why are you out here any way?" One of them, Harper, demanded.

"I thought it was safe. I mean- we're less than one mile from the border."

"It's my fault." You finally spoke up quietly from behind his shoulder.

"No-" he frowned immediately.

"I wanted to come out here." You hugged yourself. Shame bubbled in your tummy. "I was stupid."

"Just..." Harper sighed. "I'm glad ya'll are okay. We can't let our guard down for anything."

Joel bit down his retort as Harper gave him a disappointed glance. Joel wasn't reckless with you. But it sure seemed that way. All the adrenaline made his hand shake as it reached for yours.

"Are you alright?" He asked and he knew it was a stupid question.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, fresh tears sliding down your face. You looked so... ashamed. The shine of trust and innocence missing from your eyes.

"None of that, petal." He squeezed your hand. "It was- if anything it was my fault. You trusted me to watch out for you when you- when you were playing and I fucked up. Shit-" His voice cracked and he had to look away to compose himself. He felt disgusted with himself..

You shook your head. "No, Joel. If it weren't for you I- I would have- I almost killed both of us."

Joel wanted to disagree but he doesn't. He just hugged you and leads you back into the safety of the town's perimeter.

You decide then and there that you'd never be little again. It was too dangerous. You'd never be able to live with yourself if something happened to Joel. You hated yourself for bringing up painful memories for him. He was trying to hide it but you could tell he was beating himself up for it.

Your plan worked pretty well for a couple days. You kept yourself busy and pretend you were fine. You knew Joel could tell something was up. You felt his concerned eyes follow you. And it made you even more angry at yourself because you didn't want him to have to worry about you. You were sure if you told him your resolution to not be little that he'd try to talk you down. But it wasn't up to him.

"Petal don'tcha want April in the bed?" Joel asks on the third day after finding April sitting on the scratched up book shelf in the sitting room.

"Not today." You smile tightly.

"Petal... this ain't like you. To leave April all lonely."

"It's a stuffed animal, Joel." You snap back, some of your frustration boiling over.

Joel looks hurt by this. It was more than that. You loved your stuffie.

"Hey now..." He frowns.

"Stop!" You clap your hands over your ears. "Stop suffocating me!" And you regret it the moment it leaves your mouth. Your resolve crumbles and you run into the bedroom to avoid your tears being seen. No. be strong. Don't be weak. You can't do this anymore. You curled up on the bed, holding your legs to your chest.

"Petal..." Joel stomps after you, his voice rising. "We don't talk to each other like that. Now you may not wanna be my-my little girl anymore-" He sucks in a breath "but goddamnit we need to stick together. Not turn on one another."

When you don't turn around he sits on the bed a foot away from you and rubs his face. You hate feeling like you can't be close to him. But you know if you were to feel him you'd instantly crumble.

"Talk to me, petal. Please, baby. It's safe." He puts a tentative hand on your knee.

"Not safe. Not. I have to be big." You shake your head. Your voice growing quiet and soft. Joel felt his heart breaking in his chest. He hated to see you punishing yourself as if you were trying to have some semblance of control over what happened. "It's my fault I couldn't-I couldn't-"

"You ran to me. You did the right thing." Joel scoots closer.

"But I should have run faster. I should have stayed closer." You lament, hot tears gathering in your eyes.

"Hey..." Joel gently turns your face with the crook of his finger. You're eyes are big and wide and looking up at him with so much trust. He feels all his frustration melt away.

"It's not all on you... We both let down our guard but that don't mean we should hide who we are." Joel says with conviction. "Believe me, petal. I did that and I never want to go back. I don't want to see that happen to you." He cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his own emotions bubbling up.

"I'm so scared, daddy." You cry, sitting up and crawling into his arms. Giving up the fight and taking the comfort you so needed since the incident.

"Shit..." Joel feels some tears fall from his eyes as he presses a kiss into your hair. "Me, too, baby. All the time. But I feel somethin' else too..."

You look up to hear his response. He takes your hand in his and presses it into his chest where his heart beats fiercely. "I feel love. That's why I was able to fight my way to you that day. See... what we have doesn't make us weaker. It make us stronger. Gives me the fire to keep on fightin'."

You sit with that for a moment while Joel slowly draws circles over your knee.

"I'm sorry, daddy." You sniffle. He kisses your head again.

"I'm sorry, too, petal. I'm sorry this happened." Joel curls into you further. He wasn't going to let this fucked up world win. He wasn't going to give way to despair and fear. Even though so much was out of his control... he wouldn't fail again.

"How about this... you come up with a codeword for daddy when you wanna be little outside the house and that way I know to keep an extra close eye on you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daddies masterlist

littlespace taglist: @lafresamilk @mamacitapascal @prettypedros, @marstheplanet @takochansugoi  @oceanablue @iwishtobeastorm @dincrypt, @bac-1, @spacenerdpascal, @cranberrypills @punkerthanpascal @breezythesimp  @djarinsimp @mylittlesenaar @bbybunbun @phnyx @xwalltoast @dreadwolfxoxo @mswarriorbabe80 @bearcina @lokigirlszendaya @pedroslilbitch @star-wars-fan-2005  @din-jarhead @hillgoth @m4ngoj3lly @crabbae @im-a-mcsimp-for-mchotties @girlofchaos @joelsflannel @xoxabs88xox @nicolethered @sergeant-major-ghost @pretty-girl-likes-tea @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @marchai @teddy2510 @phillygraves @sunnythebunny7 @anaisweird

#daddy!joel #little!reader #ask padika #prettygirldjarin #dis has me so soft and sad #joel miller x reader

[bloodstainedsaint]

the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

summary: when you transferred from dog company to easy company following the battle of bloody gulch, you thought you knew what to expect of men in the military— though you really wanted joe liebgott to prove you wrong

word count: just over 3500

warnings: period-typical sexism & misogyny (big part of the story), very minor violence, denying feelings, mutual pining, reader lowkey has trust issues, full of other characters but hopefully no one's ooc?? also this fic is kinda messy 😭

notes: happy thanksgiving! enjoy this fic for the holidays 💞 also your favs AREN'T sexist, just confused

Gossip, you realized, was an easy way to kill time for the men of the military, especially with the recent news that there would be a transfer to Easy Company— the transfer being you, of course. You had no idea you were such a hot topic until you walked down a street of Aldbourne in search of the man currently in charge of your new company, Lieutenant Winters, and overheard a trio of soldiers discussing rumors as they sat around awaiting orders.

“Hey, have you heard that there’s a transfer coming from D-Company?” one said, lighting a cigarette.

“Whew, he must’ve not taken any smokes from Lieutenant Sparky, huh, Don?” another chuckled, stealing the cigarette out of who you guessed was Don’s fingers and puffing for emphasis, much to Don’s displeasure.

Huffing, Don continued, “He’s a sniper, apparently! Better than Shifty!”

“Nah, no one’s better than Shifty,” the third butted in. “Shifty can shoot you right between the eyes blindfolded.”

“Shifty would deny that ‘til he died, Penk,” said the second with a smile.

“It’s true, Skip! Apparently he tracked a target from 1,000 yards away and still got him in the head! Bang! Just like that,” Don said while he mimicked holding a rifle and firing.

“Psh, our boy Shifty could do that, or better: 2,000 yards, right?” Skip nudged Penk with his shoulder.

Penk shrugged. “Length don’t matter, anyway. It’s what you do with the gun, not how far it shoots.”

Skip and Don shared a look and grinned, the latter joking, “Don’t you mean distance, Alex? What, you insecure about something?”

The trio devolved into laughter and banter, but was suddenly quieted as Don patted the others and pointed at you approaching. Several other men standing nearby swiveled their heads to watch as well.

A woman dressed in fatigues, the shoulder of her uniform emblazoned with the Screaming Eagles patch, a M1 Garand slung around her back— they couldn't seem to get their mind around it. Disregarding their curious stares (you’d gotten a lot of them for the past two years or so that you've been enlisted), you walked past the group of spectators.

A couple of men whistled lowly, and a murmur spread through the small crowd. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, eyes downward in thought. Surely one of these men knows where Lieutenant Winters is. You turned on your heel toward the group.

“Afternoon,” you addressed the onlookers, who were now either standing up or gathering around in interest. Your eyes went from man to man, meeting inquisitive and suspicious stares alike, unfazed. “Anyone know where I can find Lieutenant Winters?”

“You, uh, you lost?” a diminutive man — Perconte, his name tag read — asked.

One with a strict face and a glower already etched into it — Martin — stepped into the scattered group. “Who’s asking?”

“Private (Y/N), sir,” you said with a quick salute that was returned. “I’m transferring from Dog Company to Easy Company. I was told to look for a Lieutenant Winters.”

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

The man from earlier, Don, spoke up with awe apparent in his voice. “You’re a sniper?”

You turned to him with a curt nod. “Yes, I’m a sharpshooter.”

Then a lanky, scrappy-looking guy, Liebgott, entered with a smirk tugging upon his lips. Just by looking at his crooked smile and raised eyebrows, you knew he was going to cause you trouble. Just another man ogling at you like you're nothing but a pretty face. What else is new? “You need help getting around base?”

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” you swiftly rebuffed, turning your attention back to the rest of the men. You set them with an expectant look.

“You can find Lieutenant Winters over there at CP,” Randleman, a large red-headed man, said around a hefty cigar in his mouth, nodding his head in the tent’s direction. “If he’s not there, try the mess cabin.”

With a small smile, grateful that someone finally answered your question instead of asking more of them, you thanked him, saluted, and walked off.

As you started towards CP, you heard behind your back, “Did Roosevelt change something while we were overseas? ‘Cause I just saw a lady wearing paratrooper clothing with a rifle ‘round her back.”

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

You could almost hear the smirk in Liebgott’s voice as he declared, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Yeah, come back alive,” another voice — Skip, maybe — chimed in. “Speirs might’ve rubbed off on her.”

You only had a few seconds to mentally prepare yourself before you heard footsteps catching up behind you. Liebgott was now walking side by side with you, matching your brisk pace.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

You took a sidelong glance at him. “That’s right.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott. Technician 5th-Grade.”

“And is there a reason why you’re following me to CP, Liebgott?”

“Thought I’d show you around base, get to know you a little.”

“And I thought I declined your assistance,” you said firmly. “I was part of Dog Company; I'm not new around here.”

“Alright, how about introducing you to Easy men when you’re finished?” He threw a smile your way. “They’re curious about you.”

You slightly grimaced at the thought of being at the center of attention for so many strangers. “I’d rather not.”

“Why? They’re great guys. I don’t know about Dog Company men and their Lieutenant Speirs, but Easy men, especially Toccoa men, are different.”

They don’t seem all that different to me. You gripped the strap of your gun a little tighter. “Once again, I’ll pass.”

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

A tense silence ensued. You did your best to not seem bothered by it. Usually by this point people gave up and stopped talking to you entirely.

“So, uh,” he began, running his hands through his hair. Of course you weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Your intuition earlier was right. “Why’re you transferring over to Easy? No offense, but we've got a helluva marksman already.”

“I wasn’t given a reason, just an order.”

“That so? Well, maybe you’ll take his place as our resident sniper, huh?”

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

He chuckled. “You’ll fit right into Easy with the rest of the snarkers. Where you from, (Y/N)?”

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

“Get outta here, you serious? I'm from there too!” Liebgott cracked a smile and gazed at you. “Man, I might’ve seen you around and just haven’t realized it. Could've been talking to you years ago.”

You pursed your lips. “It wouldn't have helped your chances, Liebgott.”

Grinning, he said, undaunted, “What chances? We're just talking. I wanna know the lady I’ll be fighting with.”

“You just want to know if I’m single or not. That’s all,” you icily said as the two of you neared the tent.

Apparently found out, Liebgott smiled broadly and stopped a few feet from CP while you continued walking. “Well, are you?”

You turned to face him. “Yes, I’m single, and no, I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”

You couldn’t see the smile melt off his face as you entered the tent, eyes searching amongst all the men and equipment for the tall soldier you’ve seen conversing with Lieutenant Speirs before.

“Private (Y/N),” a voice called. You looked in its direction and finally found Winters.

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

“You’re the new transfer, right?” he asked, beckoning you further into the tent for some privacy. You were thankful that most of the men here were too occupied with their own duties to notice you.

You followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes, sir.”

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

“Anyone give you trouble?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”

You paused, thinking. Nothing past some inquisitive stares and a couple of questions. “No, sir.”

Winters perceived your hesitation. “If that changes, tell me. They're good men, but they might be a bit eager to meet you.”

You nodded. Liebgott certainly was. He analyzed your face for a second before continuing, “Try to get yourself acquainted at dinner before you go into combat with them. That’ll be all, Private.”

You saluted, knowing full well that you’ll most likely try to get a seat by yourself, away from the clamor of the men.

“Thank you, sir.”

-

It turned out that no seat was good enough to escape the onslaught of questions.

You had gotten there early and took a seat at the far end of one of the tables with a book in hand and not much of an appetite. Unfortunately for you, being one of the first ones there instead of a head in a crowd of people singled you out, and eventually you were surrounded by men wanting to know more.

“Hey, this is the new replacement I’ve been hearing so much about, yeah?” Bill Guarnere, or Wild Bill, as they called him, questioned, shoving himself into one of the seats at your table.

“Transfer, Gonorrhea, not a replacement,” Liebgott said from your side. When he had entered the mess cabin, you had attempted to hide yourself with your book, but to no avail. He had beelined toward you, beaming ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to you.

“You into books?” he said, eyes going from you to the book in your hands.

You thought that he might actually surprise you.“Yeah, are you?”

He scoffed lightheartedly. “What, you kidding? I love to read!”

A ghost of a smile graced your face. “What kind?”

“Oh, you know, Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, mostly!” he said, seemingly proud of himself, and your smile disappeared.

Soon after that, people swarmed your table. If you were being fair, though, Liebgott had spoken for you for most of the night, making sure you could read in relative peace. If you didn't know any better, you’d say that he was just enjoying you being by his side, but you were still wary of any underlying intentions (let’s say, getting into your pants) he might have.

Yet, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you from time to time with a small smile upturning his lips, and you wanted to believe he didn't have any.

“Transfer, replacement, whatever,” Bill brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “What I wanna know is—”

“—why she’s a girl?” Liebgott finished. “Jeez, I dunno, she’s only been asked this twelve times tonight.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Bill said with a pointed look at Liebgott as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I was gonna ask if she did shoot a Kraut from 1,000 yards away.”

“You’d be giving ole Shifty a real run for his money, ain't that right, Shift?” Joe — the other one, Joe Toye — said from beside Bill, reaching over to another table and shaking one of the guys there.

Shifty, you assumed, looked over and met your eyes with a kind smile. “No, no, I’m sure she's a better shot than me. Y'all give me too much credit.”

“That’s what being humble will get ya.” Bill chuckled and puffed from his cigarette. “Your spot as Easy’s best shot out from under ya.”

The table laughed, and you steeled yourself before uttering in a quiet, yet steady voice, “It was two men.”

A hush descended over the table. Liebgott turned to look at you. “What?”

“Two men. I dropped the first. The other one heard and started running. I dropped him next. Both in the head,” you relayed, without the humor of a storyteller but the gravity of a historian. You didn't know it, but you had a stony look in your eye.

Luckily, you were saved from the stunned silence by a man getting up and reciting a poem, but you could feel Liebgott’s eyes burning into you. With fear? Admiration? You weren’t sure, but you didn't dare look over.

-

Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent. For months now, he'd been lingering around you, flirting and striking up conversations with you. To be honest, you never outright said for him to stop (besides that one time in the very beginning when you said you weren’t interested), so you guessed he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

Still, he seemed determined to get you into his bed.

“C’mon, I think we’d look cute together!”

“That’s what you think, Joe,” George said, squatting next to his friend, “Giving her heart eyes and all. Meanwhile, she looks at you like you're her next target.”

Brushing his teeth, Frank followed the other two’s gaze across the road, where you were happily talking with Bull and Shifty. He spat out the toothpaste residue on the ground beside him and said, counting on his fingers, “Seems like the only people she gives the time of day to are Shifty, Bull, Doc Roe, even Webster.”

“Who, if you'll notice,” George said, gesturing with a cigarette between his fingers, “are all quiet, reserved, well-mannered people. You, on the other hand, got a loud mouth and, uh, what’s it called, Frank?”

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

“Yeah, a short fuse. She probably thinks you’re trying to get into bed with her, in which case, you're shit outta luck.”

Frank said, shaking his head, “Scary, that girl. With her rifle and that look in her eyes.”

Liebgott exhaled. “But I’m not tryna just sleep with her! I even gave her some of my favorite comics ‘cause I knew she likes to read.”

“Yeah, real books, Joe— that's why she gets along with Webster!” Frank exclaimed. “You sure you didn't give her the pornos?”

George laughed. “That'd give her the wrong impression.”

Liebgott narrowed his eyes as you giggled at something Shifty said. “You’re right, maybe she doesn't like me.”

Standing up, George sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. “That’s not the point, Joe. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Yeah, like I’m her next target? You told me already.”

“No,” George said with an exaggerated eye roll, “like she wants more outta you. ‘Cause all she's getting is the impression that you wanna fuck her.”

Liebgott stood up as well, still watching as you laughed with Bull and Shifty. George and Frank patted him on the back.

“She’s all yours, buddy,” Frank assured with a sympathetic smile. “She makes heart eyes at you too.”

-

There were only a handful of women selected to serve outside of something like a nurse’s position; you just so happened to be one of them, most likely because of your experience with a rifle. So, you’d gotten used to the lustful ways some men would watch you, or the demeaning ways they would taunt you. You guessed almost all of them had never seen a woman with a combat position in the military before (or by the way some of them acted, ever spoken to a woman at all).

But such men only assumed that you had earned your jump wings by sleeping around with officers. They assumed that they should be able to get in on it too, or that they should condemn you for something you didn't even do, for being unworthy and unskilled all because you were a woman.

It had always been a difficult pill to swallow: your military career would be littered with scathing remarks and crude comments, and you’d have to be strictly professional or closed-off with most men lest you’d be seen as a whore rather than just “scary”. But the hardest fact to accept was the fact that Liebgott, for all the kindness he had shown you, all the times he talked to you like you were a human being— that he most likely had the same intentions as everyone else.

As much as you relished his company, his crooked smile, his jokes, his lingering touches (and as much as you had to pretend you didn't), you had to accept his end goal was for you to warm his bed. And sure, maybe he was more dogged with his efforts than other men were, and maybe your friends in the company had told you that he was a genuine guy, but you just couldn't believe that he had anything else in mind when it came to you.

Maybe all the criticisms thrown your way had affected you more than you thought.

With the success of Operation Pegasus, Bull had dragged you (not literally, though you’re sure he could've) into a pub in the Netherlands for some celebratory drinking.

You didn't drink, and you disliked pubs; the smell of booze and drunken people was often overpowering, but at least you found quiet company with Bull. Across the room from your table, you saw Liebgott staring at you with a smile and a drink in his hand. It seemed as though he had noticed you the second you entered.

“It’s alright if I leave you alone for a second, little lady?” Bull said, chewing on a cigar like usual. “You'll be fine?”

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

The large man smiled and patted you on the back before leaving to talk to some of the other men in the company.

Not one to mingle, you were only a few pages into your book when you caught the attention of an intoxicated soldier.

“Look who it is,” Cobb said to himself, hardly standing upright. You recognized his voice, seeing as this wasn’t the first time he’s derided you. “Ms. 1,000 Yards, huh. Bet the officers over at Dog Company only made up that story so it looks like you had some use.”

You ground your teeth. Typically, if you didn't give someone like him the satisfaction of an answer, they’d leave you alone. Why defend yourself and give people another word to call you: bitchy?

“What's a woman got to do in the military anyway?” Bottle in hand, he shambled towards you. “Besides suck the dicks of the men who are actually fighting.”

Steadying your uneven breath, you tried to look behind him to find Liebgott, but his body blocked your view.

Taking another swig, he spat, “That why they transferred you over from Dog Company? Those boys got their fill of you and passed you onto us, huh? Fuckin’ good for nothing slut.”

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” You heard Liebgott’s voice and felt relief wash over you.

Cobb turned around, and you caught a glimpse of an incensed Liebgott, a fierce glint to his eyes.

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

“Oh, please, Joe, you trying to get her to suck your cock faster—”

He was interrupted by a fist flying his way, toppling the inebriated man. Liebgott got on top of him and began trading punches before the surrounding men, drawn by the commotion, tried to pull him off of Cobb.

Your eyes were blown wide as you stood there, speechless. Bull found you and pulled you by the arm out of the pub.

“But what about Liebgott?” you said, peering behind you.

Bull shrugged and did the same. “Seems like he was winning anyway.”

That night in your billet, all you could think about was the fury that twisted Liebgott’s face into one you only saw on the battlefield.

And it was all for you.

-

The next day, you searched for Liebgott at breakfast, the table feeling a bit more empty without him taking up his normal spot beside you, but he had found you first, as he usually did.

“Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you for a sec?” he said, his hand on your shoulder. You turned around in your seat and were met with a slightly bruised Liebgott, a small cut across his nose. Concern filling your chest, you nodded, and his hand held your wrist as he led you out of the mess hall.

“So, uh, about last night,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched yours for how you felt about him bringing it up, but he found no hints in your unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for fighting Cobb for you. You're a strong woman, you could handle him yourself—”

Smiling at his uncharacteristic hesitance, you cut his apology short with a peck on the cheek. You pulled away and saw his temporary surprise.

“Thank you, Joe. I appreciated you standing up for me. It means a lot.”

His face broke into the widest beam you've ever seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked eagerly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even process what they were. “Shit, sorry, that was too soon—”

You answered his question by tenderly holding his bruised face with your hands and bringing his lips to yours. You could feel him grin into the kiss as he pulled you closer, and your heart just about melted.

Maybe you had gotten Joe Liebgott all wrong from the start.

“Great, he’s never gonna wash that cheek again!”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #easy company #101st airborne #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #joseph liebgott x reader #joseph liebgott #joseph d liebgott

[chosetherose]

Two Graves One Gun

So Long London continues the saga of celebrity versus soul. The only way to cure Taylor’s sadness is for her to bid farewell to bearding, and perhaps the closet.

If you can look past the red herrings in this song, you will find a deeply layered masterpiece that illuminates Taylor's battle with herself; how past plans made to maintain her celebrity have marred her soul. She doesn't want to live life like this anymore and is willing to burn her brand down to the ground to free her soul.

As always, the analysis I've written here is only one interpretation of this song. I'm not claiming it is "correct" but I encourage you to plow through (this is a very long post) and consider what I've laid out.

For context, I believe London is a metaphor for bearding. Here is some background for the new folks:

For most of her career, Taylor’s beards have been from the UK. Specifically, from 2012-2023 her beards were Harry Styles then Calvin Harris then Tom Hiddleston then Joe Alwyn.

The beginning of this stage was right around the time she started crossing over into pop music. Red is her first real leap into pop music and to do this successfully she needs to expand both domestically (to pop audiences that don't listen to country music) and internationally (her first opportunity for this since the rest of the world doesn't listen to much country music).

She started bearding with Harry Styles in late 2012, within weeks of Red's release then milks that short lived stunt for 1989 as well. What a way to capture a new pop audience made up of fans abroad and at home. Rinse and repeat until her priority changes to long-term privacy and she finds that aided by an unknown actor named Toe. Even though Taylor's current beard is American, suffice to say one can look at London as a metaphor for bearding given history.

[Intro]

So (So) long (Long), London (London) [repeated]

Pay attention to how she sings this...She breaks "London" into "Lon" and "Don".

So SO / Long LONG / Lon LON / Don DON

This is a sneakily beautiful way to emphasize: So! Long! Don(e)! ...Like "I've been bearding for so long and I'm done with it" or "So long, bearding! I'm done!" Yes, this is a reach but read the rest of this post and circle back. As this intro closes the final "Don(e)!" fades into the upticked beat.

[Verse 1]

I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift

Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

My spine split from carrying us up the hill

Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill

I stopped trying to make him laugh, stopped trying to drill the safe

Taylor seeing fairy lights through the mist sounds like she sees daylight at the end of a tunnel opaque from lavender haze. She keeps focused on this goal, carrying on with all these beards over the years. Although she's able to appear calm during these stunts, living life like this has forged a rift within herself. She beards because it's advantageous for her brand but her soul despises the ruse.

Side note: “Keep Calm and Carry On was a motivational poster produced by the Government of the United Kingdom in 1939 in preparation for World War II.” -Wikipedia. A bit of history that I think furthers the idea that Taylor was battling to keep going.

Tayor has to balance these aspects of herself continually - Too much stunting? Her soul needs a break. Had a good break from stunting? She needs to feed the grocery line Swifties to keep them at bay. It's an idea that got me thinking about yin and yang, "an opposite but interconnected, self-perpetuating cycle." (Wiki). I am not an expert on this concept but I know I've noticed it has come up throughout conversations about TTPD. If yin and yang is relevant for this album, as I believe it is in multiple songs, in the context of this verse it feels related to Taylor's constant need to find balance between the celebrity version of herself we see on our screens and the true version of herself only she can see in the mirror.

This cycle wears on Taylor so much that her spine splits from the weight. She has been slogging through stunts, dreaming of freedom, for years. It's been storming so long her clothes are soaked and she feels the chill down in her bones.

Because of the pain she decides to change strategy. Theres no more attempts to make her situation lighter or find ways to deal with it. And think about this - if you're trying to drill the safe open it means either A) you feel like you've tried all the codes and are resorting to brute force, and/or B) you're running out of time and growing desperate. Taylor is past even those points and is giving up entirely.

[Chorus]

Thinking how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy

So long, London

You’ll find someone

The chorus reminds me of talking to a past version of yourself that made plans for a future you. We know Taylor must plan her life years in advance so perhaps she is asking her past self something like, “Why did you think I could handle continued bearding? Did you really think I could handle all the sadness I'm feeling today?”

Then I think the second half of this chorus is saying goodbye to bearding, symbolized by London, because she can’t bear the sadness anymore. Maybe the "you'll find someone" line is aimed at the fans a la "you should find another guiding light" like you guys will find someone else to fawn over in the tabloids.

Side note: I love the double entendre here. Because so long means goodbye but it has also been so long that she’s been bearding (largely with British men).

[Verse 2]

I didn't opt in to be your odd man out

I founded the club she's heard great things about

I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath

I stopped CPR, after all, it's no use

The spirit was gone, we would never come to

And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

I don't have a strong opinion on the first two lines of this version. What comes to mind is she didn't opt in to be an openly LGBTQIA+ artist, she chose to closet and beard. Then other younger closeted celebrities have looked to her as a blueprint.

In the process of bearding for stardom, her soul abandoned all she knew. I think there is a red herring here as Heath could reference Hampstead Heath (which has connections to Toe) but it’s also continuing on the house theme that Taylor sings about. Here, it doesn’t sound like this house is a home. She’s not singing about chandeliers flickering inside, it’s “the” house by a heath -- “Heathland is characterized by plants such as heather, bilberry, gorse and bracken, which occur on infertile and well-drained soils. Open heaths have been highly modified by humans for centuries and are maintained by grazing or cutting.” She’s stuck somewhere that’s by drained her via death by a thousand cuts lol.

Again, it's weighed on her. So she's decided to stop trying to revive the disconnect between her soul and her celebrity, it’s no use trying anymore. She’s realized they could never fully come together.

And she’s pissed off she let her celebrity rob her of an open, free, youth where she could live truthfully. Recall that in Peace she sings, “a coming of age has come and gone” which to me means she feels she can’t explain a coming out via a youthful awakening angle. She’s at the age where people will understand she’s known this for years but hasn’t shared with the world. This will raise questions she won’t be able to answer because it’s all too tangled (NDAs, outing beards, etc.).

[Chorus]

For so long, London/ Stitches undone

Two graves, one gun

I'll find someone

For so long, she’s been bearding, stunting, hiding her true self to reach and/or maintain celebrity. It’s caused her stitches to come undone. This wording is interesting because it implies she had a wound from living this life hiding her truth, they tried to fix her up as her celebrity status soared, but it didn’t work because the sadness was too great.

Perhaps there's two graves and one gun because on the path to daylight she will kill both her celebrity and the sadness of her closeted self. Not how she switches from "you" will find someone to "I" will find someone. This is because she will destroy every version of herself that she's ever known if she comes out one day. She will rise like a Phoenix through the ashes to discover a new version of herself in the daylight.

Note that the Spotify clip for this song, from the Fortnight video, feels significant. First, Taylor looks up toward the daylight. Then, with heavy breaths and a concerned face, she rifles through her art (words written out on a typewriter). We know in the rest of this scene she is lighting her art on fire. Two graves one gun on a path to daylight.

[Bridge Part 1]

And you say I abandoned the ship

But I was going down with it

My white-knuckle dying grip

Holding tight to your quiet resentment

I imagine these first lines of the bridge to be aimed toward those in her life, on her team, etc. that steered her toward closeting to gain/keep fame. Maybe she has plans and they are saying by coming out she is abandoning the ship (her celebrity) they've all worked hard to build. In Miss Americana we heard her team tell her that coming out as a Democrat would halve the numbers of her next tour. Can you imagine what would be said about a coming out?

But what they don’t understand is that living this life is killing her. She’s been holding on to all the subtle ways they’ve told her over the years that her career will sink if she comes out of the closet.

[Bridge Part 2]

And my friends said it isn't right to be scared

Every day of a love affair

Every breath feels like rarest air

When you're not sure if he wants to be there

When she confides with her friends about it all they tell her she shouldn’t be afraid to take steps toward the daylight because look where she is now. She’s been stunting for years (love affairs in the tabloids) and it's awful for her. So terrible that she's grasping for breaths, unsure if she can still survive in this atmosphere (thin/rare air means its not a hospitable environment for Taylor).

[Chorus]

So how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

How much tragedy?

Just how low did you think I'd go

Before I'd self-implode?

Before I'd have to go be free?

Again, I think she’s talking to her past self here. “How could I have thought I’d survive sinking this low? How could I not realize I’d reach a point where I’d self-implode?” Which here, self-implosion is telling a similar story as I think the two graves one gun lyrics do — the result of the self implosion is being free. If she blows up her celebrity and she will be free to live her truth, curing the sadness that has been ruling her life for years.

[Verse 3]

You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waiting for the proof

You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

I imagine this verse is aimed at her fans, the grocery line Swifties who believe her beards are real boyfriends. I read “you swore that you loved me but where were the clues?” as a sarcastic jab because she’s been screaming 🌈 for whoever is willing to listen. The fans claim to love Taylor but they aren’t willing to really listen to her.

Most people here “altar” and think of a wedding but the definition is much broader, “In religion, a raised structure or place that is used for sacrifice, worship, or prayer” (Wiki). So Taylor was up on the altar, a place of worship, waiting for clues that these fans actually loved her. But what started as worship became sacrifice as these fans never found love for who Taylor really is all the while the bearding and hiding were causing Taylor deep sadness.

Despite all this, she loves her job and her fans. The sadness is too much though. She is about to self implode and feels its time to take steps toward a brighter future. It’s maddening as hell to metaphorically blow up your life just as your fame is escalating to new heights you’ve reached for your whole career.

[Chorus]

For so long, London (So long, London)

Had a good run A moment of warm sun But I'm not the one So long, London Stitches undone Two graves, one gun You'll find someone

For so long, she bearded. She had a good run, getting away with it all, reaching levels of fame she always dreamed of. But she's not the one to keep the charade going (as opposed to her heroes who unfortunately 'died' closeted). Goodbye, bearding. The wound was too big to fix. With one action, I will kill the version of myself you (the fans) know and the version of myself I know. You (the fans) will find someone else to worship.

...

I could keep tweaking this theory for weeks but these are my initial thoughts on this song about two weeks out from TTPD's release. This album is incredible complex but for me the signs we keep getting are all pointing toward significant change. There is a momentum going right now that I haven't felt since the early Lover era. No matter what happens or how long it takes, I hope our fearless Chairman gets the chance to bask in the sun shiniest daylight. She deserves the warmth.

💕 CTR

#forgive me there are probably minor edits needed #but #I can’t proofread this again I just need to press post

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Take My Breath Away

————————————————————————

summary: halloween with your husband joe!!

warnings: none, fluff

pairing: joe burrow x reader

imagine universe: into the mystic

————————————————————————

(y/n’s pov)

i loved joe with my whole heart, but sometimes he got on my nerves. in this particular instance, i wanted to do a couples costume but he refused, saying he'd rather match with ja'marr than do a couples costume.

so instead of doing a costume with him, i'm doing one with the twins. our costume was top gun themed, i was charlotte blackwood from the original movie and the boys were all dressed in little fighter pilot suits.

i was doing finishing touches on my hair, making sure to use a bunch of hairspray so everything stayed in place while joe was helping the twins get their shoes on.

once i was done, i grabbed my purse and started walking downstairs.

"everyone ready to go-" - you stopped when you saw joe

joe was wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, the same leather jacket maverick wore, and aviator sunglasses to complete the look.

"oh.. my.. god.." - you

"did i take your breath away?" - joe

"stop it!" - you giggled as you walked up to joe and kissed him

"you like it? you better, because i'm only doing this for you." - joe

"i love it, joe. you look amazing." - you

"thanks baby. but we needa get going, this outfit on you makes me wanna take a highway straight to the danger zone." - joe smirked

"joe! what'd you do google top gun pickup lines?" - you laughed

"nope, i'm just that good." - joe shrugged

"let's go you dork. come on aviators!" - you walked to the door and the kids followed 

joe stood back for a second and watched you walk to the door. he shook his head with a smile on his face, joe couldn't believe he was doing this. but it also made sence, joe hated dressing up for halloween but he was going to do it for you no matter what.

————————————————————————

authors note: little halloween blurb that targets the top gun fans (🥵)

picture joe in that maverick fit instead of the god awful thing he has on today. (still love him though!)

hope you enjoyed! 🫶

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 15A: Dreams

Wilmington, North Carolina

Labor Day Weekend, 1988

I'm hung up on dreams I'll never see Help me baby, or this will surely be the end of me…

 - Dreams, The Allman Brothers Band (1969) [click here to listen]

“I’ll be upstairs in just a few minutes. Did you finish your reading?”

Ten-year-old William MacKenzie shook his head. “I was going to, but that’s when Daddy arrived with Jamie and Claire – I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. And then it was time for dinner, and then - ”

Gillian Duncan MacKenzie bent to kiss her son’s forehead. “All right then. Why don’t you get yourself all caught up?”

William’s eyes darted over to Claire, seated across from his mother at the kitchen table, sipping sweet tea.

“Jamie and I will be here all weekend,” she smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk with him about music tomorrow.”

His face brightened. “OK! See you in the morning!”

Claire couldn’t help but smile as William darted out of the room, footsteps quickly thudding on the stairs.

Gillian turned to face her guest. “He’s so excited. It’s not every day that a bona fide rock star is here in sleepy Wilmington.”

“Thank you for asking him to not tell his friends at school. I’m used to the attention now – ”

Gillian raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you?”

Claire shrugged. “Well – no. I don’t know if I ever will be. But one thing that won’t change is how much we value our privacy. So – thank you.”

“Of course, Claire. Privacy and discretion are what I do professionally – how could I not extend the same courtesy to you, when you’re a guest in my home?”

“Still. Thank you.”

A beat. Claire sipped the sweet tea Gillian had made – the same recipe she’d grown to love, those months at The Ridge. Gillian gently pulled Claire’s left hand across the table, studying her rings.

“You said this was his grandmother’s engagement ring?”

Claire nodded. “He inherited it when she died. His sister Jenny kept it for him, until he asked her for it. Called her the day he got home from The Ridge, and went to see her the next day. He gave it to me a few weeks later.”

“A man who knows what he wants.”

Claire smiled. “And I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”

Gillian returned the smile, then focused on the wide band next to the engagement ring.

“I love how solid and simple your ring is. Silver?”

“Platinum. His is the same. Wide enough for an inscription on the inside.”

“I do,” she had whispered. Smiling through the tears. Thinking he looked just a bit ridiculous in his suit. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Love” across his knuckle.

“I do,” he had whispered. Eyes burning, full of awe. Agape at the simple gray dress she had chosen, his mother’s pearls around her throat. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Heart” onto her finger.

“I am so pleased to…” Professor Quentin Lambert Beauchamp loudly blew his nose into a polka-dotted handkerchief. “Excuse me. I am so pleased to pronounce you husband and wife. Jamie, you may kiss your bride.”

He did. To the applause of the ten dear friends gathered in Joe and Gail Abernathy’s Boston backyard.

“That’s beautiful.” Gillian lay her own left hand on the table, adorned only by a thin gold ring. “Dougal never gave me an engagement ring, and he insisted I have the gold band for our marriage. His is silver. He had just sunk all of his money into building The Ridge, and we couldn’t even afford flowers at the reception.”

“That’s beautiful, too, Gillian. And I understand why you wouldn’t want to upgrade. Because what you have now, is that much more meaningful.”

“I was sitting here, when Joe and Gail staged the intervention.” Jamie looked over at his wife – his wife!! – gazing up into the arbor behind the house. “The vines were heavy with grapes. I remember thinking, how appropriate that I’m looking at what could be wine.”

He pulled her closer against his side, and kissed the top of her head. Careful of the tortoiseshell combs that Jenny had so lovingly placed in Claire’s hair as she got ready this afternoon.

“Ian confronted me in a hotel room in…Sacramento, I think. I had been so wasted on stage the night before, slurring through half the songs. Jenny had come to see Ian, and she was so scared for me. She had already done the research, made a few phone calls. I puked the whole flight across country to North Carolina.”

“It’s always the ones we love who we hurt the most,” she murmured.

“I’m never going to hurt you, Claire. You know that, right?”

She turned to face her husband – her husband!! – and smiled. Reassuring.

“I do. And you know I’m never going to hurt you, Jamie. Right?”

He nodded. Couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Ah!”

Dougal MacKenzie and Alec MacMahon turned the corner, and cheered. “Here you are! Come on – don’t let us have all the fun without you. Can’t miss your own wedding reception!”

Gillian nodded. “I don’t need it. I have the life we’ve built together, and our son, and a man who somehow thinks the sun rises and sets with me. I’ll never understand it.”

Claire swallowed.

Of course Gillian noticed.

“Don’t ever doubt how much he loves you, Claire. I’ve seen you two together – you’re so natural with each other. That’s never going to change.”

She clenched her hand into a fist. Centering herself.

“It’s…it’s just so…intense, with him,” she whispered.

“We don’t have to tonight, Jamie. We have forever, now.”

His hands shook as his thumb softly, softly traced down her neck, across the pearls, and settled into the cleft between her breasts.

“I want to, Claire. I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. I just…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gillian asked gently. “I can be your therapist, or I can be your friend. But I will listen.”

Claire took a deep, calming breath. “Being on tour – I see now how he developed the addictions. Every aspect of it is so stressful. He feels so much pressure to lead his band, to write music, to live up to the fans’ expectations. And he has to deal with the label and the tour manager and the production guys, and do media, and somehow find time to eat and shower and sleep on top of all of that.” Her thumb twisted her wedding ring. “He’d use the drugs to come up, and the alcohol to come down. And the women to just forget about everything for a while.”

“Are those groupies?”

Colum had organized a small gathering for the band and crew to celebrate the first show of the acoustic tour. No alcohol or drugs in the room – though Claire quickly learned that the rules by no means extended to hallways and bathrooms and storage rooms at the venue.

Jamie squeezed her hand, standing side by side in the corner, both of them holding a can of Tab.

“Yeah. I can ask them to leave, if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

“No need.” She dropped his hand and quietly approached the four women giggling on the other side of the room.

“Ladies. I’m Claire Beauchamp. I’m with him.”

She turned slightly, looked at Jamie over her shoulder, and then turned back to her audience.

“So?” A girl wearing a strategically ripped Def Leppard t-shirt popped her gum. “That’s not what I heard about the last time he was here.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “That was then. This is now. I will say this only one time. If you even think about flashing a boob, or smiling at him, or trying to get him alone? I will end you.”

The girls gaped.

“Tell all your friends here in Albuquerque, please. Are we clear?”

“And now, that you’re there with him?”

Claire smiled. “He’s eating and sleeping a lot better. Has a lot more energy. He so desperately wants to do everything right. And I’m not going to lie, Gillian – seeing him perform the songs he wrote for me at The Ridge, and then being there when he comes off stage, all keyed up from singing and playing the guitar…”

“It sounds like in many respects he’s replaced his additions with you.”

Claire looked up, meeting Gillian’ gaze. “Of course he has. The album and lead single will be called She’s My Addiction. Doesn’t get any more obvious than that.”

“And how do you feel about that, Claire?”

She lay her hands flat on the table. “I’ve never felt more…loved, and cherished, than when I’m with Jamie.”

She frowned and opened her eyes when he stopped brushing her hair, one morning in Minneapolis.

“What – ”

The pads of his fingers swept the left side of her neck, still a bit tender from his kisses after last night’s show. “I bruised you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. I’m not.”

She swallowed. “But it’s so, so hard sometimes. He loves me for who I am, but I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up. And he stresses over so much that he doesn’t have to. Gillian, he’s been having panic attacks all tour.”

“My God. Is he seeing anyone to help with that?”

Claire sighed. “You’re looking at her. Thank God I did that psych rotation when I was in med school. I’ve helped him recognize the signs, and he knows enough to tell me when it’s happening so that we can get away and I can help him through it. But I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t be everything he needs. He has to do a lot of work to explore what’s triggering him, so that he can manage that. Because after we take the break at the end of the year, we’ll be on the road for most of ’89. The label has booked more than a hundred shows.”

“And you’ll be with him?”

“Of course. He’s the air I breathe. I know this sounds insane, but we want to try for a baby next year. That way he can be off the road, off touring, to be with me if the timing lines up.” She sighed. “So I’ve talked to him about bringing a therapist with us on tour. He needs to have that kind of support from someone other than me. Especially when we’re in Europe and he’s playing soccer stadiums and dealing with a next level of bullshit.”

“Do you want some recommendations? Between Dougal and I, we can definitely help you find someone.”

Claire smiled thinly. “That would be wonderful. It has to be someone we both trust. Who can deal with all the craziness.”

Gillian nodded. “Consider it our wedding gift to you. I – we – really want to help you. You know this, Claire – getting sober is hard, but staying sober is so, so much harder. It does and doesn’t get easier with time. Dougal would say the same thing.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

She settled her chin into his shoulder, nestled securely in his lap. Together they watched the cornfields of Iowa glide by, thousands of feet below.

“No. Not really. The pills helped me deaden the pain. And my life doesn’t have that kind of pain at all, now.”

The private plane had four clusters of four seats, two seats on each side facing each other with a table in between. Jamie and Claire always had a cluster to themselves. Ian, his bass tech, Jamie’s guitar tech Arch, and Angus’ drum tech always sat together. Colum kept to himself. Leaving Angus in the final cluster – which he shared with the two groupies he’d been surprisingly faithful to since Albuquerque. He hated flying, but the girls certainly made it easier for him – plying him with snacks, rubbing his back, squeezing him between them in the big seat.

Claire turned slightly, and inhaled at his temple. Kissed his earlobe as he shivered. “I know you miss it, Jamie. And it’s OK.”

His grip tightened on her hip. “You taste so much better,” he whispered. Eyes far away.

Claire wiped the corners of her eyes. “I just love him, Gillian. So fucking much.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so proud of him, for everything he’s done, and for the man he’s worked so hard to become. I’m not going to lie – sometimes it’s so damn hard to deal with everything. With all of his past shit, and how he still lets it mess with his head. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him that none of it bothers me. Not the drugs, or the alcohol, or the destroyed hotel rooms, or what is probably hundreds of women. I can’t let any of that bother me, because that’s not the Jamie I know. But Gillian…”

Gillian reached across the table and took Claire’s hand.

“He makes everything so fucking hard sometimes. He starts to spiral, and he worries that I’ll have had enough and walk away. But then we just take a deep breath, and we look at each other, and all the bullshit is gone, and it’s just so easy again.”

“You need a day off!”

Jamie rubbed his hands over his face, exasperated. “I do have a day off tomorrow, Claire. You know as well as I do that there isn’t a show.”

She huffed, hands on her hips. “Not the point, Jamie. I saw the call sheet for tomorrow. You’re meeting with the label, and then with Colum to talk to the merch guy, and then the lighting team, and then you’re doing some local radio spots. That’s NOT a day off!”

He shrugged. “At least we can get dinner together and it won’t be shitty venue food.”

She pursed her lips, trying so hard not to scream. “Do you not remember the panic attack last night? You were sobbing in my arms, Jamie. It was really, really bad. And then you were so exhausted, but you wanted to be a hero and do the show anyway, and then you tripped over your fucking amp when you went on stage and could have broken your arm. Where would that leave us, hmm?”

He reached out to her – and she stepped back.

Not done with him yet. 

“You need rest, Jamie. Your body is going to shut down. And that won’t be good for anybody.”

“Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Beauchamp?”

A hint of a smile. Good.

“Yes. I’m your personal physician. I’m prescribing a day in bed, sleeping.”

He smirked. “OK. But only if you’re in it, too.”

She shrugged. “I’m not making any sense.”

“Yes you are,” Gillian smiled. “You said it’s intense between you – there’s no way it couldn’t be. Set aside his being a musician, and being in just about the biggest band in the world right now. Think about how and when you met. What had happened to both of you beforehand. All the changes you’ve made in both of your lives, in a relatively short timeframe. It’s overwhelming. And being on the road with him this summer had to have just upped that intensity.”

“We’re together non-stop. Which has been great, because we have so much time. We have what nobody else has, and I treasure that, I really do. But it’s also exhausting sometimes.” Claire paused, considering. “Nobody else knows what I’m about to tell you, but it’s another factor. We…we didn’t…” She closed her eyes. “We waited until our wedding night.”

Gillian’s silence was a gift.

“We were both so scared. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I think we were worried that…that it wouldn’t be good, for some reason. And it was good, Gillian. So fucking good. We both cried.”

“You’re everything.” He kissed her nose and cheeks and forehead and mouth over and over and over again, his tears mixing with hers. “My heart is going to burst.”

She hugged him tighter, nails digging into the flames tattooed on his shoulders. “Love you,” she whispered, breathless. “Love you love you love you love you…”

“I don’t need to tell you this, Claire, but I will anyway. It’s been a really good decision to spend so much time together, to really get to know each other, before you were married. Both of you deliberately wanted your relationship to be different from anything you’d known or done before. And now that last barrier is gone between you. So everything has changed, am I right?”

Indianapolis. Married one week. He couldn’t stop smiling at her, standing side stage during the show. She couldn’t stop giggling when he found her after the encore, threw her over his shoulder, and ran to his dressing room. His breath hot against her lips, breathlessly pleading for her to stay quiet, as they loved each other on the sofa and the techs and roadies and catering people and production staff bustled by the locked door.

“It has, Gillian. But in many ways it hasn’t. It feels like yesterday, and it feels like forever.”

New Haven. Married two weeks. The morning after a powerhouse show at the Coliseum. A penthouse suite overlooking the water. She had slipped out of bed in the dark, opened the curtains wide. Watched him watch her as she returned to bed. Held his gaze as they loved each other, dawn breaking over their faces.

“I get that. You’ve introduced another layer to your relationship. Probably the most complex layer that there is.”

Providence. Married two weeks and two days. Holding each other in a bath, Jamie’s hand splayed across her belly, Claire’s nose buried in the curtain of his hair.

“So, be patient with yourself, Claire. Cut yourself a break.” Gillian reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “And just enjoy yourself! My God – what an incredible life you have.”

Claire’s smile was the widest Gillian had ever seen.

“Holy shit. I married a rock star.”

“I heard that!”

And then Jamie was there, smiling, and kissing Claire’s smile.

Dougal hung back in the doorway. Exchanging smiles with his own wife.

“Come on, rock star. You said you’d help me hook up the new CD player.”

Jamie pulled back. Rubbed his nose against Claire’s.

“Hey, Dougal?”

Dougal crossed his arms. “What?”

Jamie stood. Squeezed Claire’s hands. Kissed her wedding ring.

“Love is a much better high than any drug.”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “I’ll put that on the new pamphlets we’re printing up for The Ridge. But the stereo won’t install itself. Help out, and I’ll even let you play that new stuff you brought.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be #jamie and claire

[morallyinept]

A full character analysis on SILVA from the film STRANGE WAY OF LIFE/EXTRAÑA FORMA DI VIDA

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

Basic Details:

Full Name: Silva (full name unconfirmed)

Nickname(s): None mentioned

Appears in: Strange Way Of Life, 2023 (first appearance on screen riding in distance at approx. 00:41 and face shot seen at approx. 01:04)

Age (if known): Unconfirmed, suspected mid-forties, to even possibly early fifties based solely on the looks of the character.

Sexuality: Bisexual/Homosexual - it's never confirmed in the film which sexuality Silva actually is, although it's widely presumed the latter

Nationality: Hispanic, but unconfirmed from where specifically. 'Silva' is a Portuguese and Galician surname widespread in the Portuguese-speaking countries, such as Brazil. However the name is also commonly known in Mexico too. Silva speaks with a Spanish dialect. It is presumed he is living somewhere in the Wild West of America, possibly close to the border of Mexico, as he convinces his son to leave and ride across the border to Mexico which appears not to be too far away if Joe is simply riding on horseback.

Family: 1 Son, Joe

Spouse/Partner: No mention of a partner

Relationship Status: Presumed single as no mention or evidence of a current partner

Current Living Status: Alive

Languages Spoken: English, Spanish

Education: Unknown/not confirmed, however presumed educated based on intelligence and speech, however schooling in the Wild West was not common before the 1880s, so most were schooled in the basics at home

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: Previous gunslinger/gun for hire, currently a horse rancher

Special Skill(s): Tending to horses on the ranch, adept with firearms

Notable Colleague(s): Sheriff Jake

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None notable

Other Markings: None notable

Prominent Feature(s): Greying hair and facial scruff, moustache

Injuries: Silva mentions he has a bad back from tending to the horses all day on the ranch

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown/greying

Personality:

Traits: Ruthless, romantic, devious

The film is titled after a Portuguese fado song by Amália Rodrigues. The song was released in 1959 and sung by Brazilian singer Caetano Veloso, and lip-synced by actor Manu Ríos playing a singer in the opening scenes, as Silva arrives in town to see Jake.

Silva is a rancher. A rancher is someone who owns or manages a large farm, especially one used for raising cattle, horses, or sheep.

Silva mentions he was previously a 'hired gun' back in the day with Jake, which means he was potentially a hit man or hired killer.

Silva is adept with the use of guns and a skilled shot. He deliberately misses shooting Jake in any vital organs.

Jake accuses Silva of only travelling to see him to get information out of him and to convince him to leave his son alone, rather than see him specifically. However, Silva mentions he wanted to see Jake sooner, but wasn't sure what reaction he would get after all the time that's passed. The conversation between them, and subsequently what Silva says to his son, indicates that Jake was right.

Being homosexual in the Wild West was largely unspoken and frowned upon. Same-sex relationships/encounters, were often kept private between the consenting individuals through fear of persecution and arrest, despite them being fairly common. Silva references this when he states, "You gonna kill me while I’m half undressed? How will you explain that? A dead man in your bed still smelling of cum!"

Hispanic decor decorates Silva's home in bright colours like fuchsia, yellow, orange and green, and he also has a statue of what appears to be of Our Lady Of Guadalupe, indicating he possibly has faith.

The costumes were provided by fashion house St Laurent for the characters in the movie, with custom pieces made specially, such as Silva's green jacket.

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfit 1 - (Opening scene & majority of the film) Green jacket, red plaid shirt, orange/umber undershirt, dark pin striped looking pants, black belt, brown leather holster belt. Black neckerchief, brown hat, dark heeled cowboy boots

Outfit 2 - (Waking up in Jake's bed scene) Orange/umber under shirt

Outfit 3 - (Tending to Jake & final scene) Yellow/brown plaid shirt, dark pin striped looking pants, black belt, black neckerchief

Accessories: Brown leather gun holster belt that carries spare bullets and his pistol, red neckerchief (which Jake kept), multicoloured striped blanket, possibly a woollen serape, which he carried rolled up on his horse and used in the desert when resting

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Silva has a six shooter pistol, worn on the right side of his body in it's holster, typical for the time period in the Wild West. His exact model is unknown, but from images seen, it appears it could be a Colt Frontier Single Action Revolver.

Silva also owns a rifle, kept in a chest in his home. The exact model is unknown.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Silva has a horse he rides across the desert to see Jake, which appears to be a dark brown stallion, and he has a whole ranch of horses that he tends to.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Silva's full dialogue from the film, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Strange Way Of Life - A Review by Jett NYFF Interview with Pedro Almodóvar

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

#silva strange way of life #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #strange way of life #extrana forma de vida #pedro pascal character database #silva character analysis #pedro pascal character analysis

[soberscientistlife]

America wants gun reform. America wants to stop our children from being killed. Republicans have shown us over and over that guns have more rights than people.

Vote for Joe Biden. He will protect America's children.

[tuxebo]

for my old friends, like og old, you might remember this post. however, my sweet anon that just sent that rdr2 ask about my thoughts on it, you just unlocked my tenth eye. arthur morgan with the poshest bastard known to fucking man. your fancy words, tight ass clothes, even your perfect posture is disgusting. (to which, of course, you would say the exact same about him)

when you fall into a ditch for arthur to stumble upon, the worst person that could possible find you, to say you had a rocky start is the understatement of the century. why he saves you? probably because he assumed you were wealthy and based in the area, he's be able to steal from your estate if you just trusted him and shared a little too much information.

come to find out, you're a little brat miles away from home and now you're his responsibility because 1. you know about the gang and their location and aren't allowed to just go and 2. no one else wants to deal with you.

to be fair, you are not entirely useless. yes, trust that arthur puts your hiney to work, as soon as your broken ankle is healed. you speak to the rich folk that typically wouldn't give him the time of day on his behalf, negotiate the shit out of whoever is unfortunate enough to do business with the both of you, you also help him befriend some of these rich folk so that him and javier can pay them a "visit" later.

granted, all of those "pros" comes with a price because you are nothing if not high maintenance. also, you talk a lot. it kind of comes with the territory, knowing all that you claim you do. arthur pays the price (well the gang does because he cuts it from what he donates) and it's definitely a good cause.

however, let's talk about the little things. the way western riders and english riders ride are undeniably different.

first off, hands. you're used to riding using both hands at all times, you were around people that did the same. you heard about people who didn't (western riders) but now you were around them all the damn time. imagine the first time you saw this man use his gun while on a moving horse, taking a perfect shot? man, oh man. he does pick up on your little fascination rather quickly and in the beginning uses it to show off, to one up you, but intentions change, at some point.

more on hands, when you try to ride with one hand, you almost fall off when your horse took got startled and picked up a little too much speed. worry not, however, our hero caught you before you could fall and readjusted you with his free hand. like nothing happened, he just kept riding unfazed like nothing happened at all.

secondly, sports. occasionally, when out at about, someone would notice you don't exactly look like your average joe from valentine. like arthur was challenged to a shooting competition, you were challenged to a fox hunting, which you gladly agreed. you did quite a bit of fox hunting with your friends and family back at home, now it was just you and arthur versus three other guys, which was of no concern. of course, you beat them by a day, earning the two of you a quite a bit of coin. but the money is actually in watching you, ever so concentrated, track a fox. arthur didn't realize you were useful for more than that mouth of yours, which you claim is his fault because he never asked.

finally, forms of control. the way you ride is very different. while it's something that kind of flies over your head, it's not so much the case for arthur. at first he noticed the way you ride and it kind of annoyed him, but it was appreciable when he watched you ride in an empty dressage ring you stumbled upon when you stumbled across some large estate. why you move so much on the saddle over such little distance, maybe he'd get answers from sitting back and watching? can't hurt to try.

more on forms of control, one thing you do notice is how "aggressive" arthur rides. not in an abusing the horse way, but it's nothing like your gentle riding. you had control with your reins, he did in a different way. this kind of ties in with his balance and ability to ride and do different things at the same time, but he was able to lasso people and pull them to his horse without a much thought, take control of horses while racing alongside it on his own like he was a sport. as neat as you kept yourself, sweaty arthur during sunset? yes, please.

okay, if you know, you know. all this while being enemies?? now, i could go on for hours. he is so fine. i want to talk more abt it so bad, someone please tell me you see the vision.

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption 2 x reader

[calicoquiltedtranshag]

I wanna spend a moment on Ivanovich, head of the crime family Goncharov, Katya, and Andrey are all a part of.

First off, Willem Dafoe. Brilliantly cast. There’s a light in Ivan’s eyes that I don’t think you could get from anyone else, and his delivery is always just...spot on.

But about the man now.

Ivan is a monarch without a kingdom. A patriarch evicted from his home. Throughout his screen time on film, he tries to portray it as otherwise, describing the family's move as a "tactical choice", a "financially driven decision" - it's all a front. He hasn't been able to go from being the USSR's biggest and meanest arms smuggler to a cafe owner humbly.

For some members of his group, this is a chance at a new life. Even has Ivan schemes and plans to angle himself to power in Venice, people like Katya, Goncharov, and Andrey are all living their own lives for a bit. Goncharov works the bar. Katya is a journalist. Andrey is picking up being a Gondolier. For Ivan, the idea that any of them have a genuine desire to leave this game of power never crosses his mind. He's always looking for the next job, the next domino to topple.

He treats Goncharov like a son, frequently outright stating so as well. This behavior, of course, only lasts as long as Goncharov obeys his orders and agrees to carry out his plans without question - and at the start of this extremely long film, that's what he does. Although Goncharov enjoys his life as a barista, he has no illusions about it being a way of life - there are jobs to be done. Pieces to take off the board - and Ivan knows the game.

At least, Ivan thinks he does.

After our introduction to our main tragic heroes, Gonch, Katya, Sofia and Andrey, we are led to Ivan's office. The level of faux power here is...palpable. A delicately carved wooden chair and desk set in a room with peeling wallpaper and cracked windows. A bookshelves filled with a handful of titles - all charred from the burning of the Family's manor. It's the same with everything else around the room. Paintings with blackened frames and shattered glass, ornate chests spattered with dried blood from the firefight as they left.

For all intents and purposes, their lives ended that day - but Ivan refuses to let go of the past.

His original speech is an impassioned rally to his most loyal inner circle - asking them to begin slipping into the local government and people. See what is needed, what is wanted, and who can supply -

And as he raises his arms, proclaiming the Family's rebirth from fire...

He's shot through the gut. More blood across the ashen chests and books.

He survives this unfortunately - but I think the fact that he still doesn't back down, even wounded, speaks volumes about the man. He's going into shock and he's still giving orders, telling Goncharov to tighten security, tasking Andrey with gathering info about possible enemies, and asking Katya to interrogate the family for moles.

That stubbornness, that need for control - it ends up being the death of him. When Gonch eventually defies him, leaving Icepick Joe alive, Ivan completely loses it. Sofia and Andrey both lose their lives by his hand - *and he frames Gonch before tossing him into the fucking ocean.* When both he and Katya come to confront him, leaving a trail of blood and bullets in their wake...we see what Ivan looks like without all of his bravado.

So much of Ivan's pomp and cruelty is driven by the idea that *he is on top*. Even someone as dangerous, as efficient, and unstoppable as GONCHAROV follows his every order - he MUST be powerful. Unconquerable.

And then....he isn't. When they find him, he is rummaging through his desk looking for a gun - we've seen it a couple times. Ivan's had a couple moments of "weakness" as he calls it. Where the memories of losing his wife, his home - his legacy - overwhelm him and he considers taking himself out - and it's another one of those moments.

He has no one in his corner to catch him. No one to keep him safe. No one who trusts him.

It was...cathartic, almost, watching him crawl on his hands and knees, begging his former bodyguards for mercy. Making empty promises, crying, wailing - Gonch has none of it.

Without a word, Goncharov picks him up. Grabs him by his wounded side and sits him on his makeshift throne. Tidies Ivan's suit with a gun to his head and puts his hat on - and then Gonch goes back to join Katya.

We don't know who eventually fires. There's not a word said for a whole five minutes. Our last moments with Ivan...we see the fires through his eyes. Reliving his worst moments, watching everything he cared about being ripped away from him, over and over again - mirroring what he's done to Katya and Gonch.

And then a gun is fired, and the story of Ivan ends.

The man, ultimately, is a monster who chose to inflict his suffering upon those around him. He HAD family still, people he trusted, people who cared about him - and though his words were always honeyed, he was never afraid to put those who loved him in his line of fire.

#Ivanovich #Goncharov #Goncharov x andrey #goncharov x katya #Katya x sofia #Unreality #tw unreality #cw unreality #martin scorsese #willem dafoe

[hillaryisaboss]

Democrats have won every election since Roe was overturned. The media just wants to prop-up Don-the-Con for ratings like they did in 2016. REAL voters are voting on abortion access, restricting guns that kill our children, & the good work we know Joe & Kamala have done on issues such as healthcare. Hillary got 3 million more votes than Donnie. Biden got 8 million more votes than Donnie. Democrats have dominated elections everywhere because of abortion. Yet the media is hell-bent on helping Demagogue Donald & his cult. Very scary!!

#hillary clinton #joe biden #kamala harris #donald trump #bernie sanders

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

So I’m a HUGE fan of angst. With Joe’s temper and with being unhinged from the war, any kind of physical affection can get a little rough. 😈 I feel like it’s totally his style and everyone needs to know it. Frienemies to lovers with angst and classy smut and a happily ever after is how we all deserve Joe Liebgott. 😘🥰 🪖♠️ 🦅

Oil and water - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, smut (p in v), fingering, angry sex to soft sex, mentions of violence and war/death, cursing, 1st person POV (female), female body part descriptions.

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: I had so much fun with this request and wrote this faster than any of my other fics! I hope you like it, @she-wolf09231982lovely, and that I did it justice!! Please let me know what you think and if you want a different one done if I didn't quite hit the points you wanted. As always, feel free to leave comments, likes, and reblogs; they make me happy! :)

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Another punch echoes in the room, followed by more yelling. The man sitting in the chair can barely open his eyes as blood covers his entire face. I try to find any sense of morality and sympathy but come up with nothing. He's a replacement that got drunk, killed two German's and shot Chuck Grant in the head before stealing a car and trying to hide. He'd yet to show any type of remorse for his actions and the men around me were getting closer and closer to doling out their own personal justice.

Everyone got quiet and backed out of the way when Spiers came in like a dark thundercloud and hit the man across the face. In the blink of an eye, he had a gun pointed right at the man's face and just held it there. My stomach dropped and I glanced over at Liebgott next to me, but his face was dark and unfazed. Spiers would probably kill this man and no one was going to bat an eye. This was wrong. The war is over and we are still losing our friends and companions.

After a long, tense moment Spiers lowers his gun and commands us to take the man to the MP's. As he's walking away I hear him tell Tab that Grant is going to pull through, thanks to a Kraut doctor. For the first time since this night started I feel like I can breathe a little. I follow the rest of my company into the street as we follow Spiers' orders. Suddenly a scuffle erupts and our prisoner has briefly broken free from the group and is trying to run away.

I'm the closest to him and immediately run and tackle him to the ground. As I'm attempting to get him flipped around and restrained, he elbows me hard in the gut knocking the air out of me. As I'm trying to catch my breathe, a pair of arms lifts me up and I'm being pulled away from the group. Someone is steering me to an empty house and all I can hear is more yelling and fighting behind us.

Once we are inside and seating in someone's abandoned house on a couch, I look up to see who I'm with. Liebgott. To say I'm shocked is an understatement. We only look out for each other during battle, because that's our job and we are soldiers. The only times we semi get along is when we are around our friends and can use them as buffers. It's been a running joke through Easy that we are oil and water and should never be left alone together because we'd both end up dead. Now here we are totally alone and emotions are running off the rails.

"You hurt?" His face is stone cold and his voice is almost filled with disgust, like he was forced to look after me and didn't put himself in this situation.

"I'm fine. You can go." I bite out, wincing as I press on the tender spot.

"Stop being such an uptight bitch. Let me look." Liebgott rolls his eyes as he moves my hands away and lifts up my shirt. I glare at him and then glance down. The spot is a deep red and I can see spots where my blood vessels have burst. It's gonna be a hell of a bruise soon.

"Okay, you got to lift my shirt up. Good job. Go away." I shift out of his hold and cover my torso again. His glare hardens on me.

"What's your fucking problem?"

Scoffing, I jump up and pace a little ways away. "We just beat a fellow soldier bloody and Spiers almost shot him right in front of us. He deserves to be punished for what he did, but we can't start taking justice into our own hands. That's now who we are!"

"Spiers should have killed him. Grant is our friend. If anyone should give that punishment, it should have been one of us." His voice is cold and detached. We were never best friends, but it hurts a part of my heart to hear how this war has been changing him.

"Of course you would say that." I laugh humorlessly and spin to face him. He jumps up from the couch and stomps over to get in my face.

"What's that mean?"

"I heard about your little road trip the other day. I know shit's been different since Landsberg, but that's no excuse to go hunting people down and playing judge, jury, and executioner." I straighten my back and stand still as he leans further into my face. He's never focused so much anger towards me before but I'll be damn if I show any type of reaction to it.

"You don't know fucking shit. How can you? It's not your people that's been tortured and killed this whole war. Now why don't you go bat your pretty little eyes at someone who cares what you think and leave me the fuck alone."

Before I know it, I'm pushing him away from me. Hard. He takes half a step back and continues to glare at me. So I do it again, and again, until I'm beating at his chest with my fists. I'm so angry and he's the perfect target to let it out on. In the blink of an eye he has my hands in a death grip in one of his and is pushing me backwards with his other hand on my waist. He holds my hands above my head as my back hits a wall and keeps his hand on my waist.

I'm not sure who moves their head first, all I know is that we meet in the middle and it's not a kind or tender kiss. It's all teeth and tongue and biting. Neither of us want to submit so we keep at it until we are breathless and our lips are bruised. He releases my hands, which immediately fly to his hair to pull hard enough to make him wince, and places his newly open hand around my throat. When he applies pressure, I moan and press myself closer to him. A flash of something other than anger moves across his eyes; lust.

"You going to be a good girl and take what I give you?" His voice is low and rough. I feel myself clench around nothing. Never one to be agreeable with him, I just smirk.

"Fuck you." Joe just smirks back and shoves his hand that was on my waist down my pants and under my underwear.

"Feels like that's what you want." He watches my face as his fingers glide through my soaked folds, parting them to rub directly on my clit. Another moan escapes me but is cut short by his hand squeezing my neck again. "Eyes on me."

I open my mouth to say something flippant back but only a gasp comes out when I feel him shove two fingers inside me and start pumping them in and out. The hand on my neck alternates between squeezes and lightly stroking my skin. I keep my eyes on his face, taking in how clenched his jaw is and the way his pupils are blown wide. Another moan comes out when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

He shifts closer to me, angling his hand so he can keep hitting that spot and rub my clit at the same time. His face stops when our lips are a hairs breathe away.

"That's my good girl. Take it." He places a soft kiss against my lips that's such a sharp contrast to the pressure on my neck and movement of his hand inside me. Joe leans his forehead against mine and keeps repeating his previous words as my orgasm gets closer and breaks through so hard I see stars.

As my vision starts to return I hazily watch him bring his soaked hand up to his mouth. The moan he lets out after tasting me is sinful and has me clenching again. When he's done, I pull his head back to mine, kissing and licking his lips begging for entrance. My own moan comes out when he opens his mouth and I taste myself on his tongue. Suddenly we are a blur of moving limps as we dispose of our clothes, not caring where they land and move back to the couch. We land with him on top of me and I roll my hips up to feel his erection slip through my folds.

Just as his tip slips in, Joe freezes above me and time stops. He's got one hand holding my thigh up around his waist and the other is on the arm of the couch, keeping him hovering over me. He trails his hand from my thigh, up my side, over my breast and up to cup my cheek. Our breathing slows down as we just look at each other, his hand holding my face like I might break if he's not careful. I run my own hand up his back and cup his cheek in the same fashion, gently pulling him towards me.

"Are you sure?" He whispers against my lips, eyes searching mine. They're softer now, the anger having melted away and now there's an open rawness in its place. I nod my head and whisper a soft 'yes' as I pull him into our first slow kiss of the evening.

Carefully, he pushes himself inside me and pauses again when he's bottomed out and our hips are flush against each other. We exchange more slow kisses and when I gently nip his lip, he knows it's okay to start moving. Once he sets the pace, slow, thorough and unrushed, we know this isn't just a simple fuck. Neither of us speak, just let ourselves get lost in the feelings as we moan and gasp against each others lips. As I start to clench around him signaling the approach of my second orgasm, I moan his name. Joe picks up the pace, some of the earlier frenzy returning as he focuses on pushing me over the edge again.

All I can keep saying is his name and after a few more thrusts, I'm seeing stars for the second time that night. I feel his thrusts become uneven as he chases his own release, moans flying out of his mouth. When he cums, he presses himself as far into me as he can and says my name like a prayer against my lips. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.

Once we've stabled our breathing a little, we shift around so we are laying more comfortably on the couch, him still half inside me, completely entangled together. Joe leans up just enough to pull a blank from the back of the couch over us and tucks me back in against him. It's silent as we enjoy the afterglow and feel of each others skin.

"Did I hurt you?" Joe whispers, kissing the top of my head. I smile and kiss his chest.

"No more than I wanted you to." We share a small laugh. "I thought oil and water could never mix."

Joe pulls back enough to look at my face, "I don't think we are oil and water. I think we are something that can't be defined." He drops a kiss on my lips and then lays back down. "Now, get some sleep. We are going for breakfast tomorrow and then wherever you wanna go for the whole day."

I fall asleep with a smile on my face, not knowing he does too.

#joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers request #fanfic request #hbo war #hbo band of brothers

[claymorexpunisher]

Sweet Dreams...(18+ Fic) (Pt. 1/2)

I've never written for Jey so I'm sorry if his scenes are a bit short. I need to get more comfortable writing for him. But I hope you guys like this one!... Also, yes there will be a part 2 because of course. If anything to make up for the lack of Jey. 😹💓 also, thank you to @moxleyunstable for the inspo! I love causing filthy chaos with you! 😂😇

Pairing(s): Roman Reigns/Fem. Reader (established Jey Uso/Fem. Reader)

Summary: Switch!Jey's bratty and sadist Sub has been having some trouble sleeping, causing her to act up. Jey enlists his cousin, Roman to set her straight...

Tags: 18+, bratting, sadism, masochism, bondage, flogging, overstimulation, forced orgasms.

Word Count: 2,615

Jey could sense that he had to pull out the big guns tonight.

It wasn’t that I didn’t respect him, I absolutely did.

But Jey and I- and his cousin, Roman- had an understanding at this point.

He wasn’t always the commanding and harsh Dom I sometimes needed, and we quickly found that out when we first started dating.

As fun as Jey was to poke at, I knew and understood that he wasn’t always up for dishing out harsh punishments, but sometimes that was just what I needed… and that’s where Roman would step in.  

At first, I wasn’t too keen on the idea of bringing someone else into our dynamic, much less using Jey’s cousin.

So, imagine my fucking surprise when Jey himself asked me to consider that option!

(Past)

‘’You trust him, dontcha?’’ Jey asked me the night that he had brought up the idea.

I felt my face grow warm at the mere idea and of course, he noticed.

‘’And you think he’s good-looking,’’ he said, smirking a little as I buried my face into his chest.

‘’Jeyyy!’’ I whined, laughing a little. ‘’I just don’t want this to be weird. I mean, he’s your cousin.’’ I almost whispered as if we weren’t in the privacy of our own home.

Now it was his turn to laugh.

‘’Baby, it’s not like I’m talkin’ threesomes. I just trust him to be able to do what we need him to do. You’re my girl, yknow? I’m not gonna just hand you off to just anybody. I needa know that you’re gonna be in good hands.’’ He murmured, softly kissing the spot behind my ear when I lifted my head from his warm chest to smile at him.

After not much further back and forth, I accepted.

(Present)

‘’Baby, c’mon, let’s go home. We gotta be up early tomorrow.’’ Jey whispered discreetly to me as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

I was perfectly content to continue chit-chatting with Alexa and she knew exactly what I was doing.

Only she didn’t know why.

I wasn’t tired at all, and I knew that it was gonna take a lot to get me to sleep tonight.

But if I didn’t get some sleep soon, I was gonna deeply regret it in the early morning.

That tended to happen from time to time due to how fucking insane our WWE schedules were.

There weren’t many people in the locker room who knew about the dynamic in our relationship, both those who did definitely got a kick outta seeing me act up every now and then.

Before I even responded to Jey, I could see Alexa’s lips twitching in amusement.

‘Yeah, I’m goin’. One sec, babe.’’ I said a little too flippantly, then I turned my attention back to Alexa.

… Then I felt Jey’s hold on me stiffen a bit, until he slowly extricated himself from me.

Once again, I felt his warm breath against my ear as he whispered.

‘’5 minutes.’’ Was all Jey said before he walked away to the parking lot.

I let about 7 minutes go by before I felt my phone buzz in my hands and my legs became a little wobbly as I looked at the name that came up on my screen.

Clearly Jey wasn’t fuckin’ around tonight.

‘’Who is it?’’ Alexa asked, looking between me and at the phone I had yet to answer.

‘’… It’s Joe.’’ I winced and she mimicked my expression.

‘’Good luck!’’ Alexa said to me and gave my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

I knew that I had brought this upon myself, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.

‘’What do you want, Joe?’’ I murmured.

Alexa’s eyes widened a little at my tone, but I just smirked.

In my bratty haze, I seemed to have forgotten just how fucking sadistic Roman could get.

But I was gonna be reminded real soon…

‘’First off, watch that tone… you’re ridin’ with me tonight. I don’t care who you’re talking to- you could be talkin’ to the boss himself. Don’t make me come get you myself.’’ Roman growled, making me melt into a puddle almost immediately.

Roman didn’t have to yell in order to command a room, much less to get me to do what he wanted.

But sometimes that pissed me off- the ease in which he could make me switch up and get me to almost stand at attention.

Tonight, I wanted to fight back a little harder.

Knowing that I could trust him to be up for the challenge, I felt myself slipping further into that tumultuous haze that clouded my judgement.

And so, I poked.

‘’Aww you gonna carry me to the car, Romieee?!’’ I mocked.

But instead of his deep, rumbling voice, I was met with a dial tone.

‘’… He hung up.’’ I said to Alexa, gulping a little nervously now to which she replied with an ‘oh shit’ expression.

Not even 2 minutes later, I felt a large hand casually resting on the back of my neck, giving it a squeeze for a nanosecond.

‘’Hey, Alexa.’’ Roman smiled kindly at the blonde before looking at me.

He was smiling at me too, but his eyes told a different story.

Foolishly, I didn’t think he’d actually come and get me.

But holy shit…

‘’Let’s go.’’ He said and this time, I didn’t argue.

The fact that he actually followed through in such a public way threatened to make my knees go wobbly again and so I bid Alexa goodnight and I followed Roman to his rental…

~~~

‘’Where’re we going?’’ I softly asked after a few tense minutes of silence as the driver took us to whatever destination Roman had decided for us.

Suddenly, an extremely lavish neighborhood came into view and my jaw dropped a bit.

In the WWE, we got paid well.

Though some definitely got paid better than others and Roman fell into that pool of select wrestlers.

‘’I don’t wanna do what I have to do, in a hotel room. Hotel room walls are paper thin.’’ Was all he said to me, causing me to worry my bottom lip between my teeth.

I didn’t reply as we walked into the mansion with our luggage after Roman gave the driver a hefty tip.

The place was absolutely insane.

The area was completely fenced in, with large arching doors leading us inside into a brightly lit and expansive foyer.

I was just admiring the stunning staircase when I heard Roman come up next to me.

‘’Come with me.’’ He said, not bothering to look behind him to see if I would follow him.

But of course, I did.

‘’Ooh, am I gonna get a spanking?!’’ I dared to say, and I could see Roman’s lips quirking up into a smirk for a fraction of a second at the excited and defiant lilt in my voice.

But he didn’t respond.

Roman just continued to lead the way upstairs until we reached a door at the end of a very long hallway.

I was almost disappointed when I was greeted by a pretty simple guest bedroom instead of a playroom, but I said nothing.

‘’Strip.’’ Roman commanded.

‘’Why?’’ I smirked, crossing my arms.

His left brow raised a little at my question, but I just continued to smirk.

‘’Because you need to take a shower...’’ I watched Roman’s eyes begin to sparkle in amusement and anticipation and my nerves spiked that much more.

I knew what was coming and I was not happy.

I hated cold showers.

Hated them with a passion.

That’s how I knew he was really mad.

The second my bottom lip began to tremble and my eyes watered, Roman shrugged carelessly.

‘’You can cry all you want. You asked for this and I’m not gonna stand here and argue with you about it. Clothes off, get in the shower.’’ Roman said, seemingly not at all affected by my tears.

Whenever he reached that point of detachment, I knew I was in for it.

There was no amount of fighting that would stop this punishment from coming.

Sniffling, I started to reluctantly peel off my clothes.

‘’How many seconds?’’ I asked simply and he shrugged again.

‘’If I don’t have to put you in there myself, I’ll be nice and make it 10.’’ The last time he did this it was 20.

The longest 20 seconds of my fucking life.

I knew better than to test him on this.

I was sobbing by the time we reached the shower and I let out a squeal when the cold water hit my skin.

Roman watched it all with that same cool and detached expression and I felt myself getting angry all over again.

I was smart enough not to let him have it in this moment, though.

I definitely didn’t want to have to make it 20 seconds underneath the ice-cold spray.

When Roman turned the dial and the water suddenly became warm, I sobbed again.

Only this time, I sobbed with relief, thankful for Roman’s small gesture of mercy.

I knew his mercy wouldn’t last long, though…

~~

I watched as Roman rubbed his hands together and he paced the room, contemplating just what he should do with my bratty ass tonight.

The warm lighting in his playroom along with the silky ropes he used to tie my hands and feet which felt soft on my skin, made that fuzzy feeling in my head intensify.

I was a little embarrassed that my resolve was already slipping slightly after he made me take that ice-cold shower.

So, of course, to make up for it, I let some of that light and defiant amusement return to my features.

One look at my amused gaze had Roman walking over to me and gripping my chin roughly, giving me no choice but to look him in the eye.

‘’Something funny, you little brat?’’ His voice rumbled.

I chuckled despite wanting to buckle underneath his gaze.

I needed this and he knew it.

He knew me well enough to know that I was in the last few bouts of brattiness and it was only a matter of time before I became a floaty, blubbering mess and I couldn’t wait for him to take me there.

‘’You.’’ I replied.

Roman’s tongue snaked out to flick over his bottom lip, and I followed it with my eyes before I looked up at him again.

‘’You’re not gon’ be so amused in a bit.’’ He smirked, and I could see the sadist in him delighting in the possibilities of what he could do to me.

Saying nothing more, I watched Roman survey the row of floggers and I held my breath while he made his choice.

The second he reached for a thin-tailed flogger; my stomach bottomed out.

Fuck, this was gonna sting like a bitch… shitshitshit.

After the first hit, I gave him the last bit of fight I had left even though the sensation of the flogger’s tails hitting my skin felt like a cigarette being put out against my skin.

‘’Hngh!... all that fuckin muscle, and that’s the best you could do, Joe?’’ I mocked once the pain ebbed slightly.

Roman twirled the flogger and gave me two, more intense hits as a response.

‘’You wanna say that again?’’ he asked, daring me to respond.

‘’Cmon! Don’t you lift dudes for a fuckin’ living? Weeeeak,’’ I said, feigning complete boredom.

I laughed as Roman brought the flogger back down to his side.

I could see how much he was enjoying this despite his simmering gaze.

He gave me a few more lashings for good measure before he reached for a vibrating wand.

‘’You’re punishing me with orgasms?! Oh no!!” I exclaimed, giggling as he turned on the toy.

I had a half a mind to grow a bit nervous again at the smirk on Roman’s face, but still I faced him defiantly.

‘’From what Jey told me, you didn’t wanna go to bed. And even though you’ve done nothing but disrespect us both tonight, Imma be nice. Imma make sure you get some sleep tonight...’’ He purred with mock gentleness as he brought the toy to my soaking wet pussy.

Roman made me come relentlessly and my back arched against the feeling, searching for more.

But after a while, I was starting to regret my defiance.

Every mind-numbing orgasm now started to feel like pins and needles against my pussy along with the occasional sting of the flogger as Roman brought down on my skin every so often, and my gaze became unfocused as my mind got hazier and hazier.

‘’Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, Sir…’’ I sobbed, finally addressing Roman the way I should and trying desperately to get away from the buzzing toy, but Roman persisted.

‘’Gimme one more,’’ he murmured, his eyes watching my every move.

I shook my head adamantly and let out another hiccupping sob.

‘’I can’t- please, I wanna-‘’ I gulped before continuing my pleading, but to no avail. ‘’ I wanna apologize to Jey! Please…’’

‘’Gimme one more and I’ll get him over here.’’ Roman commanded and finally, I let go once more.

My body trembled viciously as I climaxed again and through bleary eyes, I watched Roman smirk in delight.

‘’Good girl. See? You’re alright, babygirl.’’ He said softly, his features seamlessly melting into something softer once we both finally got what we needed from each other.

I let out soft hiccups as Roman finally untied me and brought me close against his broad chest.

His warmth was absolutely heavenly, and it slowly made my racing heart and mind settle into something calmer.

‘’You did so well, babe. Let’s get you in the bath and then I’ll send for Jey, alright?’’ Roman crooned, rubbing my back in soft, soothing circles.

I could only sniffle and give Roman a nod in response and I let him cross over to the bathroom to start the warm bath.

As soon as the warm water and scent of lavender hit my senses, I sighed happily.

A little while later, I was back in the guest room with a fluffy white robe wrapped around my body and under the thick duvet.

My muscles and my mind felt weightless.

But with a clearer mind came the gut-wrenching realization that I was horrible to Jey.

I knew that this was just how we played and that he didn’t really take any of it personally.

But I loved Jey and coming out of that bratty headspace almost always left me feeling a bit crappy until he eased my worries again.

That crushing feeling only grew when Jey finally peeked his head into the guest room.

Wordlessly, I outstretched my arms, reaching out to my boyfriend and I let out a sob as he easily complied and got under the covers with me.

‘’Joe said you had something you wanted to say to me…’’ Jey said, bringing me close to his chest.

But I lifted my head, wanting to look him in the eye when I said what I needed to say.

‘’I’m sorry I was so mean to you, J.’’ I sobbed softly.

I nuzzled against Jey’s touch as he gently wiped my tears and kissed my forehead.

‘’Thank you for saying you’re sorry, baby… I know. You gonna listen to me next time? You know I just want the best for my baby, right?’’ Jey asked while he tenderly held my chin.

At my affirmative nod, Jey gave me a soft kiss that I gladly reciprocated.

‘’Promise!’’ I swore…

Part 2

#roman reigns smut #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fan fiction #jey uso #jey uso x reader #wrestling fic #wwe fic #wwe smut

[b00ks1ut]

It’s All About Trust

Joe Liebgott X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, war, fluff (an attempt anyway I think), swearing, Briefly mention of reader being a medic, reader has a shit ton of siblings (relatable), not that many physical descriptions if any, mentions of death, normal Band of Brothers stuff

Sorry if this is bad. I’ve never written any BoB fanfiction and really have like hardly any writing experience at all so hopefully this isn’t horrible. Please give me feed back if you want. Thank you! Also sorry for the ending. It’s kinda abrupt but it’s the best I could get lol

Bois Jacques is hell. A very very cold hell. Nothing could truly combat the cold that seeps into everyone around me. Not even the plainish slop they feed us in an attempt at food. Or in the current case, cold, hard “pancakes”, or that’s what Domingus says they are.

Don pokes at his and calls after our ever so kind cook, “Joe these smell like my armpit!”

“At least your armpit is warm.” Skip grumbles from Malarkey’s side as he holds his pancake up for emphasis.

“You want syrup with that?” Domingus sasses back to him.

“Joe, be honest, what’s in these things anyway?” Don asks the retreating man.

“Nothing you won’t eat, Malarkey.” He replies.

“I won’t eat Malarkey.” Spina shoots back quickly causing us all grouped up to let out a chorus of laughs.

Julian brings back the topic of Babe and Spina’s run in with a German on their search for 3rd Battalion. “Hey, maybe Hinkle would like your share, huh?”

This happens to hit my funny bone and I let out a snort leading to the rest of the men’s laughter to only further increase until Peacock comes around looking for Dike.

“Try battalion CP, sir.” I tell the man. The rest of us wait for him to walk away on his hunt for the company CO before we break our into giggles again.

“Try Paris.” Skip laughs.

“Try Hinkle.” Malarkey adds, only increasing our laughter and before I know it tears are pricking my eyes.

Spina begins his less than great German impression and I have to leave before I piss myself laughing.

I seem to run into a brick wall in my way back to my foxhole, tears of laughter still stinging my eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that (y/n/n).” A deep southern voice speaks from above me.

I take a look and send a smile at the blonde who’s got me held by the shoulders.

“You’re all good Bull, no harm done.” I tell him as I step out of his hold. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm done.” He repeats before walking away with a smile sent to me.

I continue to make my way back to my temporary home of a frozen foxhole. I look down to find none other than Joseph Liebgott.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the rageful Jew. I don’t think it’s any specific thing that made me so drawn to him but rather his whole entire being.

On the other hand he’s never shown any direct attraction to me. Sure nearly all the men of Easy have sent me a glance at least once but I don’t blame them, I’m one of the few women they’ve interacted with past a single night in around 2 years. But past a glance none of the boys have soberly tried anything.

Especially Joe. He’s not unfriendly to me but he’s never really gone out of his way to interact with me. Not until now.

He’s sitting alone in my foxhole, hands tucked under his armpits, gun leaning in the dirt next to him, and his eyes intensely trained on the line.

“Joe? Did you get lost?” I ask him with a small laugh.

“Uh?” He looks up at me and gives me a small smile. “Not lost, just looking for someone to talk to.”

“Luz’s hole is like 2 over that way.” I told him pointing in the direction of the jester’s own hiding place.

“Well good thing I wasn’t looking for George then, yeah?” He says with his trademark smirk. “I can leave if you’d like me to, though.”

"You're fine, but can I ask a question?" I asked as I began the short descent into the frozen foxhole.

"Shoot away (y/l/n)." The Californian told me, looking back at the line across the cold, white field.

"Why are you talking to me? I'm don't mean to be rude but you've never put any effort into having any interaction with me." I asked sitting across from him and stuffing my frozen hands into my jacket pockets.

"I'm just trying to be friendly. No time better than the present, right? Do you have a problem with that? I can leave if you need me to." Joe had begun to get a little defensive but that's hardly surprising when he'll jump at a chance to be upset, whether isn’t reasonable or not.

"Why now? There's hardly a point in making friends when fucking Babe and Spina barely just ran from a Kraut fucking foxhole so excuse my confusion at your extremely sudden olive branch when we're all about to be sent home either on a stretcher or in an enveloped as a piece of shitty metal with our names stamped into it!" I grabbed my dog tags and shook them for emphasis. It took all of my self control to not start yelling or crying, but I could feel the sting of unshed tears at my eyes. "We're all going to be blown to kingdom come by all of this damned artillery." I whisperd.

"Hey. That's not true. We've made it this far but look at us. Sitting in this frozen hell hole and you're alive, I'm alive, and so is Bull and George, Don, Babe, Doc, Skip, Penkala, Perco, and Buck and Lip." He began listing some of the guys we had been with for so long. "I know it's scary and there's not a single thing I can promise you to make anything seem ok, because I'm scared and I have no clue what's going to happen even 10 seconds from now but one thing I can tell you that might make you feel slightly better is that you've made it this far. You made it through Sobel's shitty personalty, Normandy, Carentan, and I know that if you have made it this far without a scratch then what can take you down? You’re what, one of nine kids back at home, you managed to talk and work your way into the airborne and then continue to be an absolute badass throughout boot camp and combat!” He took a break to really look at me and I took that as an opportunity to defend myself and my feelings.

“I’m really flattered but don’t you think I’ve been too lucky? I’ve come so far with nothing more than a bruise and I’m sure the next thing you know I’ll be blown to pieces! I don’t know why I thought I could do this, Joe! I’m fucking terrified and there’s no where to go!” I can feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes and in a sorry attempt to stop them I look to the sky. “I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore.”

“Hey, you can’t go thinking like that. You’re going to make it out of here alive. I need you to believe that because trust me when I say that you are the toughest damned woman I’ve ever met in my life.” He scooted closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

The tears couldn’t be held any longer and the dam broke, salty waves rolling down the sides of face into my hair line. A sob escaped my lips before I could muffle it with a fist that had been stuffed between my lips only seconds too late.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, (y/n), we’re all feeling it, you’re the only one brave enough to let anyone see it.”

I let out a scoff. ‘Brave’ is not the right word to use. “I’m pathetic. I’m sitting here crying, doing nothing to help anyone around me who has it worse. I’m a a medic for fuck’s sake, I shouldn’t be crying when I routinely see how bad I could have it.”

Joe had only pulled me closer and wrapped his other arm around me, essentially cradling my shaking form. “Don’t you see? That’s what makes you so brave, (y/n). You see all these men in so much pain and put yourself in harms way to make sure they get patched up and safe. You are completely allowed to be overwhelmed and scared and cold and any other feeling a person can have. Not one man here would blame you for being upset right now. They know that as long as you are safe so are they, because when shit goes down you’re always there to help us.” He was talking so softly and so gently that I couldn’t help but cry harder.

“Oh fuck.” I muttered , wiping at my eyes. “I’m sorry Joe.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Doll.” He gave me an affectionate pat. “Just know that you are such a light in the dark here, and not one of the men in these woods would judge you right now.”

I gave him a weak smile and sniffed, wiping at my eyes and nose. “Thank you, Joe, really. I’m forever grateful.”

“Oh don’t mention it, just don’t go telling anyone that I give out cuddles, I can’t have my reputation ruined like that.” Joe snickered with his smirk and a pat to my side.

“Your secret is safe with me as long as you don’t go telling people I cry.” I tittered and wrapped my arm around his neck.

“Your secret is safe with me, (y/n).”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“It’s all about trust. I trust you, you trust me; that’s how this has to work, yeah?” I was nearly bumping noses with him and if I wanted to I could just lean in a little and kiss him. The thought quickly crosses my mind but part of me knows better.

“I trust you, Joseph Liebgott.” I meant it, with more of my heart than I thought was still there.

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #bob fanfic #bob fandom #bull randleman #donald malarkey #medic reader