#...just gotta hash out his story more... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justagalwhowrites · 4 months ago

Text

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 2: Teenagers

You and Joel adjust to each other as you struggle with Ellie. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 1 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Mild suicidal ideation. Mention of grief and child loss. Mention of parent loss. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 13.4k

A/N: For some reference because I haven't explicitly stated their ages, Joel is turning 42 in this chapter and was about to turn 37 in the flashback at the start of this chapter. Reader is 36 (meaning they were the same ages when their kids were born.)

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

“Dad, please!”

Joel sighed, leaning against his counter and sipping his coffee, his 16-year-old daughter standing in front of him with wide, pleading eyes.

“It’s a school night, baby girl,” he said. “We both gotta be up early tomorrow and…”

“And we could play hooky!” She said. “Celebrate your birthday, go to Waffle House…”

“I don’t like waffles.”

“Those are for my benefit,” she replied. “You can get your smothered hash browns and see if they’ll put candles in them so you can celebrate being an old man.”

“I can’t just call into work because it’s my birthday tomorrow, kiddo,” he said. “And your friend should have her party on the weekend…”

“But her birthday’s today!” She said. “It’s sweet 16, please! Everyone’s going, basically no one is going to be at school on Thursday because of it, please Dad!”

He sighed again, Sarah still looking so hopeful in front of him.

And then, her face shifted.

“We could go see the new Curtis and Viper tomorrow,” she smirked, brows raised conspiratorially. “We’ll probably have the theater to ourselves so we can make fun of it.”

Joel clenched his jaw to keep from smiling.

“Come on, Dad,” she said. “You worked so late on your birthday last year that we didn’t get to do anything. Please?”

He sighed.

“What would you miss at school tomorrow?”

“Basically nothing!” She said quickly, eyes lighting up. “I have exam review but I got As on all my homework in that class so I don’t need it and…”

“Jesus, you’re a bad influence,” he muttered, taking a sip of coffee. Sarah squealed, slamming into him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She said, her voice muffled by his shirt before she pulled back at looked up at him, practically beaming. “We’re going to have so much fun tomorrow!”

“Somethin’ tells me you’re more excited about having fun tonight than hanging out with me tomorrow,” he shook his head but smiled all the same. “Who all’s goin’ to this thing tonight? There gonna be boys and drinking and shit?”

“Dad,” she gave him a look.

“You can act all grown up all you want, baby girl, but you’re still a kid,” he said. “Want you to have fun but don’t want you doing anything too dangerous…”

“My friends don’t drink…”

“You say that now,” he muttered.

“…and Brit’s parents will be there so while there will be boys, nothing’s going to happen with the boys.”

“Alright,” he sighed. “But you gotta promise me you’re gonna be safe, no gettin’ in the car with someone who’s been drinking. Even just one beer is too much and you call me if you don’t have another way home, I’ll come get you, you won’t be in trouble and…”

“I know, Dad,” she rolled her eyes but smiled a little. “Don’t worry so much. I don’t plan on getting drunk anytime soon. Maybe inject heroin under my fingernails but…”

“Your fingernails, huh?” Joel teased.

“Well yeah,” she said. “Gotta hide the track marks.”

There was a honk from the driveway and Sarah grabbed what was left of her coffee - more creamer than actual coffee but Joel still liked to humor her - and chugged it.

“That’s Emma,” she said, rinsing out her favorite mug, the chipped one with the owl on it that she’d been drinking hot cocoa out of since she was so small that it was more like room temperature cocoa, and setting it beside the sink. “I’m going to go to her place after school to get ready for the party since you’ll probably be at work, anyway.”

“Yeah, should stay late and try and wrap up as much as I can since apparently I’m not workin’ tomorrow,” he smirked. “Home by midnight, OK baby girl?”

“Yup!” She said, giving him a quick hug. He gave her a squeeze, pressing a kiss to her temple. “See you tonight!”

“Be safe!” He called after her as she grabbed her backpack and headed for the front door.

When she looked back over her shoulder to wave goodbye, he didn’t know it would be the last time he’d ever see her smile.

***

Thursday, September 26, 2024

It was still dark outside.

Joel wasn’t sure what time it was but it was still dark outside so it was OK. He didn’t need to be aware of things like time or hunger or your safety when it was still dark and he was in his daughter’s room.

He jerked awake not too long after midnight, just like he’d done every year on his birthday ever since Sarah died. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered trying to sleep in his own bed, as though anything would be different. Why would it be different? The only thing that mattered was gone, it couldn’t be different.

He stared at his ceiling for a while, waiting to see if he’d be able to fall asleep again, if he could shake the feeling of phantom blood on his skin in the red glow of his alarm clock but he couldn’t. So he did what he always did on the morning of his birthday: he went to his daughter’s room.

Joel rarely went to Sarah’s room now. Maria, his sister in law, probably spent more time in there than he did, coming by every few months while he was on a job to dust and run the vacuum so it didn’t fall to ruin. She was careful to not disturb things when she did, the t-shirt Sarah had worn to sleep in still draped over the back of her desk chair and the book she’d been reading still face down on the page she’d stopped at on her nightstand. He turned on the lamp and sank onto the bed - still unmade, like she’d left it that morning - staring at the poster-covered walls.

The posters were old now, the sun fading them in the five years that had passed since his daughter had left him behind. It made the room seem like a relic, as though this space was a museum and not a place where someone had lived once, and it set Joel on edge.

Five years. Half a decade without the most important person there’d ever been or ever would be. She’d only been 16 when she died and five years had passed so quickly. Soon, she’d have been gone as long as she’d been here. Soon, to the sun-bleached posters and peeling soccer trophies, it would be like she’d never been here at all.

He found himself looking at the poster of you more than he remembered doing before when he’d been in this room before. It was strange, knowing you existed outside of this liminal space now. You were real, corporeal, a human being with thoughts and feelings and not some imagined thing with an almost disturbingly perfect face someone had invented and put on paper.

It had been a three days since Joel had seen you last, spending 11 days working with three days off in between. Tommy had been hesitant to schedule him back on duty today of all days but Joel had all but insisted on it. He needed the distraction. More than that, he needed to keep out of trouble. He needed something to keep him from trying to find the person responsible for his daughter’s death and killing them himself. Protecting you was a good enough distraction.

Yours was the first contract like this Joel had taken on, one that was longer and more involved. Typically, people who needed someone on hand 24/7 didn’t live in Austin, Texas. They passed through and Joel’s job was done in a week, two at most. You were more complicated.

Part of that was the nature of the job, of course. Working in such close proximity and in such risky situations made shit complicated.

He’d had to establish rules with you that first day after dropping Ellie off at school. He ground his teeth as you went by a small local coffee shop on your way home, you giving a fake name at the counter as the barista all but stared at you.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl smiled sheepishly. “But has anyone told you that you look just like…”

“Oh yeah,” you waved her off. “I get that all the time. Not sure why, I think she’s way prettier.”

Joel resisted the urge to snap at you until the two of you were back to the car, you still refusing to let him drive as you sipped your overpriced coffee with a contented sigh.

“Can I help you?” You asked him, brows raised, as you watched him over the rim of your cup.

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed?” He said.

“Didn’t realize the coffee shop was so dangerous…”

“You know what I mean,” he snapped. “You’re bein’ reckless.”

“I get coffee all the time back home and -”

“And you got yourself a fucking stalker, didn’t you?” He cut you off. “S’why you’re stuck with me, spent too much time runnin’ around doing whatever the fuck you wanted and now you’re payin’ the price.”

“No, I’m paying the price because the studio is overreacting,” you said, condescension dripping from your voice. “Pretty sure I’d still be sitting in my car sipping a coffee if you were off promising to take a bullet for someone else.”

You held his gaze as you took a drink, as if to make a point.

“I don’t know why this is fuckin’ news to you, but you’re one of the most famous people on the goddamn planet,” he snapped. “That shit comes with problems. If you didn’t want to deal with those problems, maybe you shouldn’t have become fuckin’ famous.”

You looked at him, like you were trying to hold back a laugh, eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared into your hairline.

“You think I chose to become famous?” You asked. “You think I wanted this?”

“Ain’t that why people become actresses,” he said more than asked.

You just looked at him for a moment, like you were examining him.

“You don’t have many friends, do you?” You said after a moment.

He ground his teeth.

“Got as many as I need,” he said. “Let’s get you home before I have to take a damn bullet because you’re stubborn.”

“Yes, I’m sure the woman driving that minivan is packing,” you said wryly but putting the car in drive all the same. “Very dangerous.”

“It’s Texas,” he said, voice flat. “She probably is.”

But instead of going home, you drove to Whole Foods. Fucking Whole Foods.

Joel was almost positive it was to piss him off but you completely ignored him as you went up and down the aisles, filling up your cart as he tried to watch for whatever threats might be at a goddamn grocery store while you acted like your goddamn baseball cap made you invisible to whoever might be looking for you.

“I know you got people for this,” he muttered under his breath, putting his body between you and as much of the rest of the store as he could as you meticulously selected an apple. “Should fuckin’ carry you out of here…”

“Yes but that would cause a scene, wouldn’t it?” You said, smug. “And that’s even MORE dangerous, right?”

He narrowed his eyes at you and moved to respond but cut him off.

“What do you think of this apple?” You thrust it under his nose. “It smells good, right?”

“It’s a goddamn apple.”

“Yes, but I need to try to get a teenager to eat it,” you sighed, impatient. “I need it to be appealing. Would you eat it if you were a teenager?”

“If I tell you yes, will you shut the fuck up and get out of here?”

“Maybe.”

“Then yeah, I’d eat the goddamn apple, let’s go.”

You smiled a little, satisfied, and got several apples and added them to the cart before taking your sweet time going through the rest of the store.

Eventually, you finished your shopping trip and actually got ready to go home. The only person who seemed to recognize you at the store was the cashier, who gaped at you as much as one person could gape at another while they rang up their items.

“That will be $267.48,” she said and you went to put your credit card but then she jumped. “Oh, wait! I can put in my discount…”

“You don’t need to do that,” you laughed. “But you’re sweet to offer!”

“But…”

“How about you put that discount in for someone else who comes through your line today,” you smiled.

“OK,” she smiled a little hesitantly. “Sorry, I’ve just never had someone famous come through my line before.”

“First time for everything,” you winked, putting your card in the machine.

The cashier kept staring at you.

“No one is going to believe I met you,” she said eventually. “I wish I had my phone so I could take a selfie…”

“Want an autograph?” You asked as the machine chimed. “Don’t need a phone for that.”

Instead of answering, she scrambled to get some blank receipt paper and a pen and Joel could tell you were trying not to laugh. You wrote on the paper quickly and handed it back before giving the cashier a smile.

“You have a great day, Mina,” you said.

She looked up from the paper with wide eyes.

“How’d you know my name?”

You smiled a little bigger and nodded to her name badge.

“See you next time,” you said and she beamed.

“Shit like that is stopping,” Joel said once the two of you were safely back in your house, behind the gate and fence that surrounded your property. “You got no damn reason to take risks like that…”

“Yes I do,” you said, defiant, arms crossed.

“What,” he demanded. “What’s your damn reason.”

“I want to take care of my kid,” you stuck your chin out. “That means going to the grocery store sometimes. I’m sure that’s a new concept for you since I’m sure you subsist exclusively off fast food and have never thought about looking after anyone but yourself…”

Joel tightened his jaw, trying to keep the sharp stab of loss from showing on his face.

“You don’t need to go yourself,” he snapped. “Send someone.”

You stepped closer to him, close enough that he could smell your skin, sweet and soft and he resented it.

“I want to take care of her,” you said. “Me. She lost her mother, the person who used to do shit like make her dinner and pick out her snacks. I want to do that for her. Me, not someone I pay. So you just need to accept the fact that I’m going to go to the store because I’m not stopping.”

“Fine,” he snapped, not about to admit that what you said tugged at him a bit. He remembered going to the store, looking for things that he thought Sarah might like. Things to put in her backpack so she had a snack for school when she got hungry between her afternoon classes or to have waiting for her when she got home. He remembered her favorite foods and how she lit up when he made burgers the way she liked or brought home her favorite cereal. He remembered how lucky he felt to be the person who got to know her in this way, to know her favorite things and be the one to get them for her. “But we’re doin’ it on my terms. This will be a whole lot easier on both of us as soon as you get with the program because I’m not letting you get us both killed because you’re stubborn. Got it?”

He laid out the rules: You were to never leave the house without him or whoever was filling in for him on his days off. You needed to run your proposed schedule for the week by him so he could make necessary changes - varying your comings and goings as much as possible so you would be unpredictable. You needed to give him full access to your property and any existing security infrastructure so he could check for possible weaknesses. And you needed a code name, one that would be used for the whole team so when there was a handoff or a situation that required additional security, communication was short and easily understood.

“That seems like overkill,” you rolled your eyes. “It’s not like I’m the fucking president…”

“When it’s a shit situation and we need to know who has you, we need it,” he said, harsher than he needed to. He was hard pressed to care, though. “We don’t need people stumbling over your name, not knowing if we’re using your first or last, and we really don’t need ‘em announcing your damn name where the wrong person could hear it and learn where you are.”

“Fine,” you said. “What are the rules for picking a code name then.”

“There aren’t any,” Joel said. “Yours is Siren.”

“Siren,” you looked at him, incredulous. “Seriously? I don’t get any say in this at all?”

“No,” he lied. “We pick for you and it’s Siren.” Your jaw twitched and Joel fought the urge to smirk. “What, don’t like it?”

You squared yourself, defiant.

“No, it’s perfect,” you said. “Derivative and dull, just what I’d expect from you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have real work to do.”

And with that, you stalked off to some far away corner of your massive fucking house, leaving the woman who’d answered the door for him that morning to show him around.

Joel tried to hide the almost spiteful sense of pride he got from getting under your skin. Because, fuck, if he had live with the reminder of that goddamn show then you had to, too.

He’d Googled you after he’d met you the day before, his chest tight the whole time. He saw your more recent film history and learned that you were older than he’d realized - you must have been in your 20s when you were playing a teenager on TV. He also learned that you didn’t talk much about the show that Sarah had loved so much and had made you a household name. He wondered if you loathed it as much as he did, if you got the same stomach churning feeling inside yourself when something made you think of it, the same one he got whenever he looked at your disturbingly perfect face.

Siren was the name of that goddamn show and the almost mocking nickname the male lead of the show had given your character, both of your characters fighting to make it as musicians in some bullshit story that was dramatized to hell and back. Joel recognized the guy, too - he was some fucking country star now, the kind who played bullshit instead of real country music - and he could feel, when he picked that name, that you’d hate it.

Normally, the person he was protecting got to pick their code name. But you didn’t know that and he needed to feel some sense of power over you. You loomed too large over him. He needed you to feel the way he did, a little helpless, a little out of control.

And you, stalking off in a huff over that damn name, made him feel better than it should.

Over the next week and a half, he was keenly aware that none of this, really, was your fault. It wasn’t your fault that you were tied so closely with his dead daughter. It wasn’t your fault that being around you was like living with an open wound, something tender and aching on him that he couldn’t seem to heal because you were near. It wasn’t your fault that he had gone through so much of the last five years numb to everything and now was almost shockingly aware of the constant pain that had been lingering below the surface.

But you were there and you were so much easier to blame than himself. He knew that, too. But it didn’t make him stop doing it, almost like he was watching himself make your life difficult without having any control over it.

He had to stay in your home to be available at all hours so he started getting up early to take your keys before you had a chance to make it downstairs in the morning so he could drive when taking Ellie to school. He made a habit of finishing the coffee when Esmo was busy elsewhere in the house and he knew you’d be coming back for another cup. He never accepted any kindness you offered, taking disconcerting pleasure in saying no lattes when you insisted on stopping for a coffee and telling you he didn’t want whatever food you offered him, choosing instead to eat frozen dinners alone in another part of the house away from you and Ellie and Esmo, too. He found a strange satisfaction in these small harms, as though they were earned in some way. You, embedded so deeply in the trappings of wealth and fame, surely deserved some inconvenience in your life. After all the pain you’d inadvertently caused him, it seemed like it was owed to him. He tried to ignore the fact that he didn’t like being the kind of person who took pleasure in hurting someone else who didn’t deserve it, even if it was only small hurts. He tried not to think about what Sarah would say if she could see what he was doing now.

Being away from you, though, made him more aware of it. The strange poison of wanting to make your life harder was further away when he was home and it was easier to see through it. You were probably dreading his return as much as he was dreading returning. He didn’t like who he became when he was near you and here he was, going back to the sphere of your influence to let it swallow him and turn him into a worse version of himself again.

Joel should tell Tommy to take him off this job. He knew that but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was never supposed to be this way with him and his brother. Joel was the older one, Joel was the one who had practically raised Tommy when their parents were gone. Tommy was never supposed to be the one to take care of him. He was never supposed to be the one to give him a fucking job or make sure he didn’t lose his house in the months after the death of his daughter. He owed his brother so much now. How could he tell him “Sorry, this simple job is just too much for me, find someone else.” Tommy asked Joel to protect you so he would.

Even if he hated it.

Dawn was just starting on the horizon when Joel decided to indulge himself for a minute, lying down gently on his daughter’s bed. He was careful to not disturb the blankets, he didn’t adjust the pillow. He let himself sink into the softness of her lavender sheets and twin-sized mattress, to be in the exact place she was the last morning of her life. He stared at the side of her nightstand - stickers she’d placed there starting to peel - and let himself remember what it was like to have someone as good as her love him.

He stayed there until her room as filled not with the artificial glow of streetlights but the unflinching light of day and got up as carefully as he lay down, going to the door and taking a last look at his daughter’s room on the morning of his fifth birthday since he’d stopped being a father, closing the door softly behind him.

The drive to your house went by too quickly for his liking and he pulled into the driveway at the same time you did, Seth - the guard who’d filled in for him while he had a few days off - laughing about something with you as the two of you got out of the car.

“Joel, good to see you man,” he said, still smiling as the two of you met Joel near your front door. “Ready to take over?”

“Don’t think I got much choice,” Joel said wryly.

“Good morning, Joel,” you said, your tone oddly cool. He just gave you a nod as Seth put the call in to dispatch.

“This is Cook,” Seth said. “Transferring custody of Siren to Big Miller.”

“Big Miller?” Your eyebrows shot up, looking between Seth and Joel. Seth covered the receiver on the phone.

“We got two Millers, he’s the older one,” he said, before going back to the call. “That’s correct…”

“Big Miller,” you smirked at Joel. “Oh there’s so much I can do with that…”

“Jesus,” Joel muttered as Seth handed him the phone. He confirmed he was taking over and ground his teeth as Seth hugged you goodbye like the pair of you were old fucking friends.

“Don’t let this asshole push you around too much,” Seth winked at you. “Deep down, he’s a big softie.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a big something,” you said. Seth laughed. Joel glared. “See you next time.”

You watched Seth leave before heading into your house without another word. Joel followed you inside, trailing behind you as you otherwise ignored his presence, going to the kitchen to get a bottle of water before heading out back.

“Hey,” he called after you and you stopped at the edge of your pool, slowly turning to face him, brows raised. “The hell you goin’? I need your itinerary for the week, you know the drill.”

“No you don’t,” you said. “I decided I’d rather talk with someone who isn’t a huge fucking child so I gave it to Seth. Get it from him, Big Miller.”

You kept going, toward the pool house and Joel ground his teeth, jogging to catch up with you.

“Look,” he snapped but you rounded on him.

“You lied to me,” you said. “I could have picked my own stupid name, you just had to get the one up on me for whatever reason and now I have to deal with being called that stupid, goddamn…”

“If you and Seth are so cozy why didn’t you get him to change it for you, hm?” He cut you off.

“Because I’d rather not look like a fucking idiot to your entire company, thanks though,” you snapped. “If you hate me so much, why didn’t you just ask someone else to do this job?”

“If you hate havin’ me around, why didn’t you ask someone else to take over?” He countered. “Looked cozy enough with fuckin’ Seth!”

You laughed.

“Oh I’d never dream of giving you that satisfaction,” you said. “You want to torment me? Fine, two can play at that game. Just wait, you ain’t seen nothing yet, Big Miller.”

You stalked off toward the pool house again before turning back to face him.

“We’re leaving at noon,” you said. “If you want to know where to, better call fucking Seth and find out since you don’t have the people skills to get your charge to cooperate.”

He grit his teeth as you went inside and he stared at the door you’d disappeared through for a moment, half expecting you to come back out and rip into him again. But you didn’t and he went inside, finding Esmo in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast.

“She’s in a fuckin’ mood,” Joel muttered, going to help himself to a cup of coffee.

“It was not an easy morning,” she said, holding a plate with a biscuit out to him. He took it with a frown. “Ellie’s a teenaged girl but even so…”

“What happened?” He asked, settling in at the breakfast bar.

“Not sure what set her off,” she sighed, putting the last pan in the drying rack before crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter, watching Joel. She reminded him of his mother, he realized, something grounding and sure about her. “But before they left, Ellie yelled that she wasn’t her mother. She didn’t say anything back but I could tell it hurt.”

Joel flinched, looking out the window at the back of the kitchen, toward the pool and pool house. Toward you. He and Sarah had rarely clashed, especially that badly, but she was still a teenaged girl who grew up without a mother. She still lashed out about it and he was still the one who had to weather her rage. He knew her pain was misdirected but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I know you two don’t…” She paused, like she was searching for the words. “Get along. But she is just as human as you or I, Mr. Miller. Go easy on her today.”

“Told you, you can just call me Joel,” he said, dodging the rest of what she said. “I ain’t your boss, not gonna make you call me Mr. Miller…”

Esmo barked a laugh as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“What?” He frowned.

“Do you think she makes me call her ma’am?” She asked. “Mr. Miller, she is my employer. I am not going to call her by her first name, regardless of what she asks. Right now, the same goes for you.”

He looked toward the pool house again. He’d assumed you’d told Esmo to call you ma’am, that you’d insisted on bullshit that put you on a different level than everyone else. Apparently, he was wrong.

That didn’t mean he had to like you, though.

Still, he almost felt bad for you as he got settled back into the room at your house that had become his. You’d been thrown into parenthood head first, none of the gradual build up that raising a child from birth provided. Instead, you were given a fully-fledged teenager with a chip on her shoulder. Anyone would struggle with that, even spoiled movie stars.

His patience wore thin, though, as noon came and went and you still hadn’t come in from the damn pool house. He wondered if you’d told him noon just to piss him off, to make him feel like he had to spend his morning biding his time until it was wasted only to do nothing but sit at home until the time came to pick up Ellie from school.

Eventually, he got tired of waiting for you and he stalked to the pool house, damn near ripping the door off its hinges as he went to find you, his eyes widening in surprise when he did.

Joel wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find there but it certainly wasn’t this. You were there, back to the door, headphones covering your ears as you swung again and again at a punching bag hanging from the ceiling.

“Hey!” He called but you either ignored him or couldn’t hear them, continuing your clumsy barrage on the bag. You clearly knew fuck all about fighting, your form rough and disjointed. Any punch you landed would be ineffectual at best, damaging to you at worst. It’d be comical if it wasn’t happening to someone whose safety he was responsible for.

“Hey!” He tried again. Nothing. He clenched his jaw and stalked over to you, hand closing around the band of your headphones to pull them off your head and you spun, breathless and shocked, to face him.

“What the fuck?” You reached to snatch the headphones back but he held them behind his back, out of reach. “Gimme those!”

“You actually got some place to fuckin’ be this afternoon or not?” He snapped. “Because I’m tired of waiting for you to get your act together…”

You stopped reaching for the headphones, still breathless, and checked your smart watch.

“Shit,” you panted, drooping a little. “I lost track of time… Give me 15 minutes, then we’ll go.”

He held the headphones out to you and you snatched them back roughly and Joel watched you stomp off toward the main house, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and he tried loathe the way your leggings hugged every curve and arch of your legs and ass as you did.

You were ready to go in just 15 minutes, though, and still more beautiful than Joel was comfortable with you being. You smelled fresh, clean, some floral fucking body wash on your skin that was covered by more skin-tight athletic wear that revealed your shape to him, all the places that - were you any other woman - he’d want to sink his fingers into to pull you close. He clenched his jaw and he went to the driver’s seat but you stopped in front of him, staring him down.

“Not sure where you think you’re going,” you said.

“I’m driving,” he said. “You know the drill.”

“Oh, so you called Seth?” You asked, brows raised. “Know where we’re headed?”

He narrowed his eyes and you smirked.

“Didn’t think so,” you said. “Step aside, Big Miller. Maybe you can drive home.”

Joel considered, for a moment, fighting you on it. But, today of all days, he didn’t have the energy. He just stalked around to the passenger side of the car, trying his damndest to ignore the little smirk you got when he did.

He stared determinedly out the window as you drove, the odd, raw feeling he got in his chest when he looked at you a little too sharp today. He focused on the cars around him, watching for any kind of pattern, anything unusual, trying to lose himself in the work of keeping you alive. At least, then, he was still good at something. At least, then, there was still some purpose for him being here. Even if he didn’t want to be. The scar that had been at his temple for nearly five years itched.

He was so lost in it that he was almost surprised when you pulled up in front of not some insufferable coffee shop or unnecessary grocery store but an overpriced looking nursing home. You reached between Joel’s legs without a word and got your worn baseball cap from the glove box, tugging it down low over your face before grabbing your keys out of your bag and dropping them on Joel’s lap.

“Get comfy,” you said. “I’ll be at least an hour, probably two.”

“Hold on,” he said, but you ignored him, getting out of the car and heading toward the door. He caught you quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you around go face him.

“What is your problem?” You snapped. “You’re always an asshole but Jesus you’re worse than usual today…”

“You really think I’m just gonna let you go do some photo-op alone?” He asked. “Not about to just wait in the car…”

“It’s not a photo-op,” you snapped. “It’s private, you don’t need to be involved…”

“The hell I don’t,” he snapped back. “Your ass dies and it ain’t private anymore. I’m going. Deal with that shit now.”

“Too bad for you,” you said, trying to pull your arm back from him but he held firm. Your clumsy little fight moves from the pool house earlier hadn’t done you any favors.

“You can either listen to me or I’ll put you over my shoulder and make you listen,” he said. “I don’t much care which it is.”

You stared him down, almost like you thought he wouldn’t do it. He was about to prove you wrong when you apparently decided instead, huffing indignantly.

“Fine,” you snapped. “You can sit in the lobby.”

“Fine,” he snapped back before following you inside.

A woman rushed to meet you at the door, speaking to you in hushed tones that even Joel, standing so close to you, had a hard time making out. She directed Joel to a comfortable looking room that reminded him of his grandmother’s living room as a child, the one that no one was allowed in to “keep the furniture nice.” There were no such concerns here, the arm chairs and couches looking comfortable and inviting if overly ornate, neat stacks of magazines on the antique coffee table in the middle of them. He ground his teeth, watching as the woman led you away.

You’d be out of sight. That made him uncomfortable. And he couldn’t trust you to actually call for help if you needed it. That made him more uncomfortable.

But… this wasn’t an especially public place. There was security keeping people out and the residents in. Chances were, there wasn’t anything that could really get to you in here. And if this wasn’t some bullshit media thing, it was probably fine to leave you to your own devices. At least for a little while.

So he settled on the couch, keeping an eye on the front doors while he absently picked up a magazine, some kind of trashy tabloid that Sarah used to flip through at the grocery store. It used to make him roll his eyes and tell her that she was rotting her brain and now he’d give anything to go back in time and buy out every newsstand he passed if it meant he got another 20 minutes waiting in line for to pay for groceries with her.

He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the magazine he picked up, though, and then bam, there you were yet again. Your picture was blurry and you were wearing sunglasses that were a little too big for your face and there was an iced coffee cup dangling from your hand.

Bombshell breakup the headline under your picture said. Hollywood’s brightest star back on the market!

Joel looked at the date, from almost a year ago now, and flipped to the pages about you. There were pictures of you walking with a woman who looked something like an older, red-headed version of Ellie and he realized he was looking at her mother. Your arms were crossed tightly over your stomach and your face was drawn, Ellie’s mother’s face concerned. It was strangely intimate, seeing you like this. It wasn’t like other paparazzi pictures of you he’d seen, the ones that looked somewhat staged or like you’d at least known you were being photographed. This seemed like an intrusion, something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing.

He looked at the pictures of you and Ellie’s mother for a while. He wasn’t sure how long, not really able to look away, when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly when he answered.

“Hello Mr. Miller,” Esmo said, her tone still uncomfortably formal. “I apologize for just reaching out like this but I know she’s visiting her mother right now so her phone is off and we just got a call from the school…”

“Wait, what?” Joel cut her off. Your mother? That couldn’t be right.

“Yes,” she said, sounding impatient. “The school, apparently Ellie was in a fight and she needs to be picked up, can you please tell her and take care of things?”

“She OK?” Joel asked, trying not to overthink the sharp little stab of fear in his chest at the thought of Ellie in a fight. He tried not to think about getting his hands on whatever little teenaged prick decided to fight her, either.

“She’s fine,” Esmo said. “At least, that’s what the school said. She just needs to be picked up. Can you go get her?”

“Yeah,” he said after a second. “Course, I got it.”

“Thank you,” she said, relieved. “I appreciate it.”

Joel’s jaw tightened as he dropped that old magazine on the coffee table before stalking off in the direction he’d watched you go before.

It didn’t take him long to find you, tucked away in a small and private visitation room, deck of cards sitting on the table between you and a woman who looked a lot like you, some of the cards fanned out in your hand.

“Do you have any fives?” The woman - your mother - asked.

“You asked me that before,” you said, an oddly tense but gentle edge to your voice. “Why don’t you ask about another one?”

“Oh,” she frowned at her hand. “How about… tens?”

“Damn,” you said, handing her a card. She smiled.

“You shouldn’t curse, you know,” she said. “It makes you sound dumb.”

“I’ve heard that,” you said, arranging the cards in your hand. “Any eights?”

She paused for a moment, examining her cards.

“What was that again?” She said after a moment.

“Eights,” you repeated.

“Go fish,” she said and you got a card from the top of the pile. “You know, you remind me of my daughter…”

“Do I?” You said, your tone oddly even.

“She’s an actress,” she nodded. “She’s only a teenager though, a lot younger than you. She’s pretty like you, though.”

“An actress, hm?” You said. “Does she like it?”

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “But she’s good at it. Not sure she can handle the hard parts, though.”

“You’re probably right,” you said. “She can’t.”

“Hello,” your mother said, looking up at Joel and lowering her cards. “Are you here to play, too?”

You noticed him then, your back going stiff, shifting uncomfortably in your chair when you did.

“Fraid not,” Joel said. “Just need to talk to… my friend here.”

You looked back at him then, frowning but he just jerked his head toward the door. You, at least, didn’t question it, just setting the cards face down on the table and joining him.

“Can I help you?” You asked, brows raised expectantly.

“Now, I already asked and she’s fine,” he said, which made your eyes go wide but he held up a hand. “Ellie got in a fight at school, we gotta go pick her up…”

“Shit,” you swore, fishing your phone from some hidden pocket in your leggings at the small of your back and turning it on. It took a moment but you groaned. “Fuck, I have six missed calls…”

You stashed the phone again and went back to the table, your mother frowning at you as you gathered up the cards.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, but I have to go,” you said. “They’ll have someone come bring you back in a minute.”

“It’s very rude to just take off on someone, you know,” she said sternly.

“Been told that, too,” you said. “You have a good day.”

She grunted, crossing her arms and turning away from you. You didn’t take the bait, just going for the door and quickly leading the way back to the car. But, for a change, you went for the passenger side.

“What?” You said. “You do know the way to the school, don’t you?”

“I know it,” he muttered, getting behind the wheel.

“Good,” you said, buckling in. “Then drive.”

You checked your phone, shaking your head, before just staring out the window.

“So,” Joel said eventually. “That’s your mom.”

“In the most technical sense,” you said, not looking at him. He nodded slowly anyway. “I don’t really think of her that way.”

“Why’s she in there?” Joel asked.

“Why do you care?” You said, incredulous, finally looking at him. He glanced at you and then shrugged and you sighed, the sound heavy. “Early onset Alzheimers. She’s 67 now, it started about five years back. I try to see her once a month or so.”

“Don’t you got the money to get her a nurse or some shit so she could stay with you?” He frowned.

“It’s really not any of your fucking business, is it?” you snapped before sighing, pinching the bridge of your nose and wincing as Joel pulled into the parking lot of the school. “Please don’t mention of this to Ellie. She doesn’t know anything about my mother and I’d like it to stay that way.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, all but leaping out of the car the second he put it into park and going quickly for the front door of the school. Joel had to run to catch up with you, barely catching you as the two of you were buzzed into the building where the headmistress met you.

She greeted you the same way Esmo did and Joel could tell, now that he knew you didn’t like it, that it put you on edge. It made him stiffen at your back, narrowing his eyes at the prim and proper woman in front of him, assessing her differently now than the last time you’d met. She was a threat now, she’d upset you, she’d opposed Ellie and he was oddly comforted that he knew he could easily overpower her if he needed to.

He frowned ever so slightly.

Why would he need to? She was a fucking teacher. And why should he care so much that she pissed you off?

“Ms. Stark,” you said, giving her a firm nod. “Where’s Ellie?”

“In my office,” she said. “Please, follow me.”

She led the way, setting a brisk pace, her back ramrod straight, but you kept your head high as you kept pace alongside her.

“What happened?” You asked. “This is very out of character for Ellie.”

“I’m not so sure it is,” the headmistress said and Joel could have sworn he saw the hint of a self-righteous smile on her lips and he clenched his jaw. “She’s… aggressive…”

“She’s strong,” you said sharply. “But she wouldn’t pick a fight without a reason.”

“Well, she has yet to tell us a reason,” she said, smug. “Maybe you can find one. This behavior may have been accepted at other institutions but we hold our students to a higher standard here…”

“I’ll talk to her,” you said. “I’m sure we can figure this out.”

Joel was half expecting you to make him wait outside the office like you had at the nursing home but you didn’t and he followed you, the principal’s office looking disturbingly more like a luxury hotel than a school.

Ellie was sitting on one end of a small row of chairs in the office waiting room, her arms crossed and her jaw set tight. A boy - about her age and far larger than her - sat at the other end, an ice pack clutched to his lower lip and blood dripping from his nose.

“Ellie,” you said, all but running for her, kneeling in front of her and brushing her hair back from her face. “Are you OK?”

She jerked away from you.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I just want to go home.”

“OK,” you nodded slowly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

She just looked to the side, tightening her arms around herself. You stood and sighed, still watching her but Joel looked to the boy sitting at the other end of the row. He was determinedly staring straight ahead but his eyes kept darting over to you, a deep blush rising in his cheeks. Joel’s eyes narrowed.

“We can’t just permit students to attack other students,” the headmistress said. “Especially not unprovoked…”

“It wasn’t unprovoked!” Ellie snapped, her head whipping around to look at the boy. “He knows what he did.”

“Miss Williams,” the headmistress said sharply. “You nearly broke a fellow student’s nose.”

“Well, he’s a pussy!” Ellie yelled. “Not my fault he got his ass handed to him by a girl!”

“Ellie!” You scolded.

“What! It’s true,” she said, calming. “Lucky I didn’t do more…”

The headmistress looked at you, a small, self-satisfied smile on her face.

“Because this is her first offense, she’s suspended for a week,” she said. “But if it happens again, we will have to expel her.”

“We’ll take care of it,” you said before turning your attention back to Ellie. “C’mon, troublemaker, let’s go.”

She shoved herself out of the chair and grabbed her backpack sharply from the floor. The boy at the other end of the chairs watched her and she lunged in his direction before pulling back, making him jump.

“Yeah, better be fuckin’ scared,” she snapped.

“Alright,” you said sharply, putting your hands on her shoulders and steering her out of the room. “That’s enough, let’s go.”

Joel gave the kid a final look, one that was apparently enough to make him stare straight ahead again, shrinking in his seat as he did. Satisfied, Joel followed you and Ellie to the car, the girl throwing her backpack in with a little too much force.

Mercifully, you just went for the passenger seat, saving Joel the fight about driving. You immediately turned to face the disgruntled teenager behind you.

“Want to tell me what the fuck that was?” You asked.

“That was a fight,” Ellie said, the sass in her voice thick. “One I won, by the way.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you said. “Kid, you can’t just do stuff like that for no reason! What were you thinking?”

“It wasn’t no reason!” She replied.

“OK then what was the reason?” You said. “I’m dying for you to enlighten me because there had better be some kind of reason why you’d go after a classmate like that!”

“Why do I need to tell you the fucking reason?” She demanded. “You don’t need to know the reason, you just need to trust me when I say I had one!”

“I do trust you!” You said. “But that school doesn’t! They don’t know you yet! They don’t know how smart and kind and funny you are, all they know is that you refused to follow the dress code on day one and now that you beat people up when you don’t get your way!”

“I didn’t hit him because I didn’t get my way!” She yelled. “I did it because…”

Her voice trailed off, seeming to realize what she was about to say just as she said it. You gave her a minute to say it, anyway, but she didn’t.

“Tell me a reason, Ellie,” you said gently. “Because there has to be a reason. God, I sure hope there is because I’d rather not have to donate a library to some stuffy school every time you decide to throw a tantrum…”

“Oh, yeah, because you’ll just use your fucking money to fix everything,” Ellie snapped. “But you didn’t use it to save my mom! No, you just let her die.”

Joel caught a glimpse of your face at that, looking less like you’d been yelled at by a teenager and more like someone had slapped you.

“I tried, honey,” you said gently. “I tried so hard to save your mom, I helped get her the best doctors, I helped get her into the best facilities but sometimes it’s just beyond what we can do as people.”

“Whatever,” Ellie snapped as Joel pulled into the driveway. She jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind her and you followed after her.

“Is that what this is about?” You asked. “Is it because you miss your mom? Because I get that, I miss her too, so much that sometimes I want to burn something down, but…”

“But she was your friend!” She rounded on you. “And she was my fucking mom, stop acting like you know how I feel because you don’t know how I fucking feel!”

“Ellie,” you said gently. “I know it’s hard, and…”

“No, you don’t know!” She snapped. “Stop it! Just leave me alone!”

She started stomping off to her room but you stayed close behind.

“We can talk about…”

“I don’t want to talk to you!” She yelled. “I don’t want to look at you or talk to you or do anything with you! I wish it was you who died instead of her!”

You froze where you stood and Ellie took advantage of your stillness to stomp off back to her bedroom, the door slamming in her corner of the house.

“Yeah, me too,” you said, so quietly that Joel doubted that you knew he could hear you.

He was quiet for a moment, staring where Ellie had gone, hoping she’d come back for both your sakes. But she didn’t.

“Teenagers are hard,” Joel said eventually. “Sure she didn’t mean that…”

“Oh please, I know you’re just loving this,” you said harshly. “I don’t need your fake pity, Joel. I have interviews, stay out of my office.”

You left without another word, the click of your door much quieter than Ellie’s had been.

“That went well,” Esmo sighed, catching Joel off guard.

“Sure it’ll pass,” Joel said gruffly. He wasn’t sure why his chest got tight as he looked toward your office. He didn’t care about you beyond needing to keep you alive and he only needed do that because of everything he owed his brother. Besides, you were just some spoiled, pampered celebrity. Surely you could use something pushing back on you for a change.

“Dinner tonight is roast chicken,” Esmo said, heading toward the kitchen.

Joel frowned.

“Why are…”

“I know why you don’t usually eat with us, Mr. Miller,” she said, looking back over her shoulder at him, her eyes narrowed. “She won’t be joining us, her calendar is full until after 10. Don’t pretend that you enjoy those freezer burnt blocks of garbage you call food more than a home cooked meal, I don’t like liars.”

She disappeared to the kitchen, the rattle of pots and pans following not long after and Joel sighed, settling in on the couch to kill time instead of disappearing to his room on the other side of the house.

But, to his surprise, Ellie emerged just an hour later, in jeans a t-shirt instead of her uniform now, creeping into the living room like she was expecting someone to jump out at her.

“She ain’t here,” Joel said, making her jump. “Sorry, kiddo, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” she sighed, coming in and flopping on the loveseat. “Where is she?”

“Doin’ interviews in her office, I guess,” Joel said. She nodded slowly, staring determinedly at the coffee table.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment before this strange tug at the center of him to take care of her - something that was so foreign now but still so familiar - made him clear his throat and break the silence.

“Want… want to talk about anything?” He asked.

“Like?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Like why you decided to beat up some boy at school,” he shrugged. “Or why you decided to say something that mean to one of the only people who really cares about you. Because that didn’t seem much like you.”

She scoffed.

“What do you know?”

He shrugged.

“Enough to know that you act tough but that you ain’t an asshole.”

“Ain’t isn’t a word,” she said.

Joel just shrugged again, going back to his phone.

Eventually, Ellie sighed heavily.

“That fucking boy,” she spat the word as though it were curse word, not the f-bomb she’d dropped a second earlier. “Figured out who she was. Saw her dropping me off at school earlier this week and started talking about shit like ‘your mom is so hot, why aren’t you’ and when that didn’t really bother me started saying shit like ‘I’ve seen your mom’s tits’ and called her a whore and I just… he fucking deserved it, OK? And I’m not about to apologize to that fucker just because the fucking school….”

“Alright,” Joel said gently, cutting her off. “I agree. He’s a jackass. You probably did the right thing.”

She looked surprised for a moment but it passed quickly.

“That’s why I couldn’t tell her what happened,” Ellie said. “Because do you know how fucking creepy it is, knowing that every guy in your stupid school has probably jerked it to your aunt? It’s fucking gross. I don’t want to talk about that shit with her.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“So, what, you decided to take it out on your aunt when you got home?” He asked.

“No,” she said, defensive. “I just… I know she loves my mom… Loved my mom… So why didn’t she… I don’t know, just… why didn’t she fix it? She has all this fucking money and knows all these fucking people, why didn’t she fix it? She can do everything else, why couldn’t she do that one thing?”

“You really think she didn’t try?” Joel asked gently. “Look, I don’t really know her but I can tell she loves you something fierce and I’m guessin’ that’s because she loved your mama something fierce, too. Just… sometimes, there’s shit that money can’t fix.” Without meaning to, he remembered holding his daughter as she bled out in his arms. He remembered begging whatever god might be listening to do anything to fix it. That he’d give anything, do anything, to fix it. It hadn’t made a damn difference. “Trust me. Sometimes power and money just don’t mean shit.”

She shrugged and picked at some unseen thing on the couch.

“Not my business,” Joel shrugged. “Just seems like you’re making her miserable because someone else is bein’ an asshole.”

“Think she’s mad at me?” Ellie asked quietly, looking over at him, her dark eyes soft.

“If she is, she’s not actually mad,” he said. “Just hurt. You said some shitty stuff, kid.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed, looking toward the hall that led to your office. “I fucked up.”

Joel shrugged again.

“Everyone does.”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” She asked. “Don’t you usually hide in your room when you’re not following us around?”

He didn’t want to admit to hiding from the visions of his daughter that so often plagued him on his birthday, so he just shrugged instead.

“Well, I got this new video game while you were off,” she said. “Want to kill some zombies and shit with me?”

“Don’t you got homework or something?” He asked, brows raised.

“I’m suspended, remember?” She said.

“You really think either of them are gonna let that stand?” Joel asked. “Between your aunt and Esmo, you’re gonna be back in that school before you know it.”

She snorted.

“Probably right,” she said. “Still. Wanna play?”

He examined her for a moment, the hopeful look in her eyes as she watched him in return.

It had been so long since anyone had wanted something like this with him, some kind of connection, some kind of approval, some kind of emotional investment. It made his chest get tight and his first instinct was to tell her no, to stalk off to his bedroom and close the door and keep himself far away from anything like that… but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when she so clearly needed it.

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “Gotta get all that shit set up, though, don’t exactly play a bunch of video games…”

She scoffed.

“I’m sure you don’t, old man.”

Ellie gave him a controller and, as the two of them ran through some virtual desert to collect supplies and shoot zombies, he had the fleeting thought that making her smile made this the best birthday he’d had in more than five years.

***

“Thank you for having me!” You smiled brightly, hoping it still reached your eyes after faking your way through this for hours. Fuck, your Oscar should be for this shit, not your film roles. “It’s been so fun. Hope to see you at the movies!”

“See you there!” The spunky entertainment reporter on the other end of the connection said before the stream cut off. You let the smile slip the moment you knew no one but Quinn was left on the screen, grabbing your water bottle from just out of sight and chugging half of it.

“You did great,” she said, looking at notes on her end. “Hit all the big talking points, great lead in for the main junket kicking off soon.”

“Can’t wait,” you said wryly. Quinn gave you a look and you just shrugged. “What? I don’t get paid to act like I enjoy this shit with you, just with all the reporters.”

“Well, it looks like you won’t be flying solo on at least the LA portion of this junket,” she said and you frowned. Quinn answered the question before you had a chance to ask it. “Looks like Chris Reese will be with you…”

You groaned.

“Seriously?” You asked. “I have to be in LA and I have to deal with that jackass?”

“Have worse chemistry with him and then you won’t have to do shit like press with him,” she said. You glared at her. “What? I get paid to spin shit for the reporters, not for you.”

“Ha ha,” you said and she smirked.

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “Just two days of interviews. And they want you to do a few of TikTok trends for promos…” you groaned again. “Going to pretend like I didn’t hear that and just say that you’re looking forward to reconnecting with your costar.”

“Oh yeah, can’t wait,” you rolled your eyes.

“Also,” Quinn said, steadfastly ignoring you. “I just emailed you part of the script for Savage Starlight, they want you to do some chemistry reads while you’re out that way. They think they have a casting choice for the young version of yourself and you’ll have one dream sequence scene with her that’s going to be pretty important to the story, I guess… fuck if I know. They want to make sure the two of you fit well. They’re also looking at a few guys for your love interest… couple unknowns, Ryan Smythe and Chris Pine are all in the mix.”

You nodded slowly.

“Ryan’s not bad,” you said. “I haven’t worked with him but we’ve met a few times and I like his work. Surprised he’s drawn to a project like this…”

“I’m surprised you’re drawn to a project like this,” Quinn said.

You shot her a glare.

“…But I wouldn’t mind working with him,” you continued like she hadn’t spoken at all. “Pine is a shock, I think he’d have gotten enough of playing second fiddle to a woman superhero after Wonder Woman.”

Quinn shrugged.

“Maybe he’s just in his big time feminist era, not arguing with that. Plus, he’s good.”

“Oh, he’s great,” you said. “The best of the Chrises. Unlike Reese…”

“Oh, suck it up,” she rolled her eyes. “He’s not that bad.”

“He’s obnoxious,” you said. “You don’t have to deal with him like I do.”

“No, but I have to deal with his manager,” she replied. “I’ll trade you. At least Reese is nice to look at.”

“Yeah, he knows it, too,” you said.

“When you’re out here, we’ll have to have to have lunch,” she said “You’re my favorite client, I miss you.”

“You say that to all your clients.”

“Yes, but I lie when I say it to the rest them,” she smiled a little. “OK I’m going to let you go get some sleep. I’ll send you an itinerary for your trip out here and I’ll share it with the security outfit, too. Speaking of which, tell that bodyguard of yours happy birthday.”

You frowned.

“It’s his birthday?” You asked. “Wait, how’d you know that?”

“Come on,” she scoffed. “You know I ran a full investigation on the man I knew would be protecting you. I’m not stupid. Anyway, tell him happy birthday for me and take care of yourself, OK?”

“Will do. And you, too,” you said, hanging up and letting your forehead droop to your desk with a groan.

You were exhausted. Even before the Ellie shit you’d been exhausted and all you’d wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep all day.

Of course, you didn’t get to do that. Instead, you listened to the most important person in your life tell you that she wished you were dead before you had to go give the same goddamn interview to a dozen different broadcast outlets.

You’d closed yourself in your office and let yourself cry for a while before you forced yourself to stop long enough to do your hair and makeup and make sure you looked at least somewhat presentable before the first interview. And then you faked a smile for hours, talking about the last movie you made before your best friend died, trying not to think about leaving set every day to go see Anna in hospice, always afraid that it would be the last time you’d get to see her.

Esmo had sent you texts while you were stuck in interview hell, telling you when Ellie had eaten, done her homework and gone to bed. She’d also reached out to the school to discuss bringing her back sooner and said she would tell you what she’d gotten out of them the next day.

You weren’t sure what you’d done to deserve her but, in that moment, you felt like you owed her your life. Because someone needed to look out for Ellie, even when she wouldn’t let you do it yourself.

At least, now that it was late, the main part of the house should be empty. Esmo had gone home, Ellie was asleep, Joel liked to avoid every part of the house where he might run into people unless he absolutely had to be there. The last thing you felt like doing was getting into it with your niece or faking a smile for Esmo or putting up with Joel’s shit.

Your bodyguard exhausted you. He’d seemed to make it his own, personal mission to get under your skin. Sure, maybe you hadn’t given him the warmest welcome - you still weren’t thrilled about having to have a bodyguard in the first place - but that hardly seemed to warrant the degree to which he’d been poking and prodding at you in the two weeks he’d been working for you.

Joel had figured out quickly that he had a lot of power over you, somehow keenly aware that you weren’t about to complain to his boss about him or try to get him kicked off the job. What you didn’t get was why he seemed to be so fucking miserable to be assigned to you to begin with.

It’s not like he’d never been a bodyguard before, it’s not like this was new fucking territory for him. He just seemed to hate you personally.

You’d tried to change that for the first week or so. Yes, you’d gotten off on the wrong foot and you could take the blame for that. You were willing to give him some time to get it out of his system. You tried to reach out, to see what food he liked so you could update the dinner menus to his liking or to buy him coffee when you insisted on stopping to get one - much to his chagrin. You tried to even go along with some of his demands so his job was a little easier - things that wouldn’t have you losing as much of your autonomy, at least - but he didn’t seem to appreciate any of it. And then Seth, the other guard, was with you and you realized just how much Joel must absolutely loathe you.

Seth was much easier going. He let you drive without argument. He had dinner with you, Ellie and Esmo every night. He smiled and laughed and mentioned that he was surprised you picked Siren of the name options for you. You’d managed to hide your surprise at that, not wanting to give away just how much his coworker seemed to enjoy humiliating you.

Of course Joel had to come back on what had quickly devolved into the worst day you’d had since Anna died. Of course he’d seen just what Ellie said, of course he had some new way to make you feel like shit. Happy fucking birthday to him.

The pinch of tears had returned to the back of your throat but you swallowed them. You needed to eat something. You needed to go take off all this fucking makeup. You needed to actually sleep in your own damn bed because sleeping anywhere else would be strange and you couldn’t give Joel more ammunition to use against you or give Ellie any reason to feel worse.

So you forced yourself to go to the kitchen to get the plate Esmo had made for you out of the fridge, your feet heavy, the house dark. The light was on in the pool, the reflection from the water casting lines over the ceiling of your living room and you considered, for a moment, just how easy it’d be to go outside, jump into the water and let it swallow you. But you couldn’t do that. Ellie needed you, whether she liked it or not, and there was a whole staff of people who relied on you for their livelihood. Giving up wasn’t an option. Not for you. So you kept going, like you always did.

The kitchen was dark, too, but the smell of coffee was fresh and strong as you opened the fridge, the light oddly bright compared to the darkness of your house. You found the plate Esmo had left you, a chicken thigh and roasted broccoli piled high. You pulled the plastic wrap back, bumping the fridge closed with your hip as you did.

“Should pay more attention.”

You yelped, jumping and looking around before you realized that, at the end of your breakfast bar, was the hulking figure of your bodyguard, sitting in the dark.

“Jesus Christ,” you said, heart pounding. You set the plate on the counter and stalked to turn on the lights before rounding on him. “What the fuck are you doing, sitting here in the dark? Just lurking to try to fuck with me in some new way or what?”

“No,” he said and there was something so honest in his voice that you couldn’t help but believe him. “Didn’t feel like sleepin’, so…”

He shrugged and you just nodded, going to put your dinner in the microwave.

“Well, you can have the kitchen to yourself again in a minute,” you said, leaning against the counter and facing Joel, your arms crossed over your stomach.

The frustrating thing was, if he wasn’t such an asshole, Joel would be an attractive man. He was handsome, unquestionably so, in a way that would be sculpted out of marble in a bygone time. He was handsome and tall and broad and there was something about his presence - no matter how antagonistic he seemed to get - that made you feel safe. It was something that you thought went past the fact that he was paid to protect you, something in you that said that, while he was here with you alone, while he could easily overpower you, you didn’t need to be afraid of him. He was safe.

Of course, maybe it was better if he was a dick. If he was kinder, you’d probably end up half in love with him, a recipe for disaster since he was your bodyguard.

“S’your house,” Joel shrugged. “I can go if you want space.”

“I don’t mind,” you said.

He just nodded, twisting his coffee mug in his hands.

“You alright?” He asked after a moment of quiet with nothing but the hum of the microwave between you. You raised your brows at him. “Just… you know… whole Ellie thing.”

You watched him for a moment, head cocked. Was he asking because he actually cared? Was he asking to try to find some new way to make you miserable? You weren’t sure.

“She’s a good kid,” he said when you’d been quiet a bit too long. “She didn’t… I know she didn’t mean what she said, she’s just bein’ a teenager, and…”

“How do you know?”

He frowned.

“Know what?”

“That she didn’t mean it,” you said. “How do you know?”

The microwave beeped and you got out your food. Joel, much to your surprise, pulled out the chair next to his at the breakfast bar before gripping his mug again, his fingers tight and strained against the ceramic. You took the seat, grabbing a fork and knife from the silverware drawer on the way.

“I talked to her a bit,” he said once you settled in next to him. He wasn’t looking at you, staring straight ahead instead. “She was… she was upset about other shit and took it out on you. Don’t make it right but… at least explains it.”

“What was she upset about?” You asked, cutting into the chicken and taking a bite. Even reheated it was delicious. God bless Esmo. “Was it the fight at school? Because she was in a mood this morning, too, and…”

“Yeah, think that fight’s been simmerin’ for a few days,” Joel said, taking a sip of coffee before glancing your way quickly.

“What was it?” You frowned. “Did she tell you? If it was a good reason, then…”

“She told me,” he cut you off, actually looking at you now. “Look… I’ll tell you, but I think it’s best if you keep it to yourself. I get why she’s pissed.”

You frowned.

“OK…”

“That fuckin’ kid she beat up,” he said, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Well… guess he recognized you…”

“Shit,” you sighed, dropping your fork to your plate to press the palm of your hand to your eye. Of course you were the root of this problem, too.

“Sounds like he thought you’re her mom,” he said. “Started askin’ her why she’s not as good looking as you and, when that didn’t get enough of a rise out of ‘er, started saying… other shit.”

You gave him a second to continue on his own but he didn’t.

“Other shit like what?” You asked. He flinched and looked down at his coffee cup. “Other shit like what, Joel.”

He sighed.

“Other shit like he’d seen your… chest,” he said, his cheeks getting red. “And he called you… well, somethin’ you don’t call a lady.”

“Jesus,” you slumped down in your seat. “Well, at least that explains why she was begging me to not be the one to drive her to school in the mornings anymore…”

“Sorry,” Joel said, his voice rough.

“I don’t blame her for taking the bait,” you sighed. “Lord knows I would have in her shoes… God, it must be embarrassing for her…”

“Like I said, she’s a good kid,” he said. “Don’t take one blow up too personally. Teenagers are… well, they’re teenagers.”

You watched him for a moment.

“Why do you know this stuff?”

His jaw tightened for a moment.

“Just do,” he said.

Something told you that wasn’t all there was to it but you didn’t pry. Instead, you ate your dinner in silence next to him, trying to think of ways to talk to the school to get Ellie back in without bringing up what she’d told Joel. You liked that she had an adult she apparently felt like she could talk to. She needed that, desperately, in her life. You’d prefer it was you - it had been you, once upon a time, back when you weren’t responsible for her - but you’d take what you could get.

“Can I ask what that punching bag out back did to piss you off?” He asked eventually.

You laughed a little.

“Nothing much,” you replied. “Wait… you sighed an NDA for this job, right?”

“Yeah,” he frowned, looking at you again. “Why?”

“Because this isn’t public yet,” you said. “But… Well, I’m trying to prep for a role.”

“A role,” he said. “What role?”

“You ever heard of the comic series Savage Starlight?” You asked. He nodded. “Well… I’m Starlight. Or, I will be. They’re going to officially announce it in a few months, once the rest of the main cast is settled. They’re starting me with a trainer to learn fight choreography in six weeks but I’ve never had a role with fight scenes like this one, I’m trying to make it so I’m not starting from scratch so I don’t look like a total idiot.”

“That don’t…” Joel paused. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of movie.”

“It’s not,” you said. “But Ellie loves the comics. They’re her favorite thing and… well, if I’m her favorite super hero, I can’t be all bad, right? So I just… I want to get it right.”

“Well, you’re doin’ it wrong,” Joel said. You narrowed your eyes, about to argue with him on it, but he cut you off. “Not trying to be mean. Your form was just… I can tell you haven’t really thrown a punch before. Nothin’ wrong with that. Or, well, there isn’t until you need to start fighting. You just need to be careful is all, otherwise you’re just gonna hurt yourself.”

You laughed a little.

“Of course,” you said wryly. “It only makes sense that I’m shit at that, too.”

“Not shit,” he said. You raised your eyebrows. “What? You’re not. Just not trained. I… I can help. If you wanted.”

“Really,” you asked, incredulous. “You’d help me train to fight.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Not like I don’t got the time. Besides, figure my job just gets harder if you’re in a damn cast because you busted your wrist throwin’ a bad punch.”

“Fair enough,” you said. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” he said, the two of you falling silent again. You picked at the chicken, not much of an appetite.

“Do you think,” you said, trailing off for a moment before looking at him again. “Do you think you could take Ellie to school when she starts back? I’m going to talk to the school again tomorrow, try to get her back in next week, but I don’t want to cause her more problems and…”

“Sure,” he said. “I… I don’t mind. She’s a good kid.”

“She is,” you agreed.

You finished what you could of your dinner and slid off the seat before cleaning up your dish, Joel frowning and watching as you did.

“What?” You asked. “You’re looking at me like I’m… I dunno, an alien or something.”

“Don’t you have people who do shit like clean up after you?” He asked. “Ain’t that part of Esmo’s job?”

“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged. “But I’m not about to leave my dirty dishes sitting out overnight for her to deal with when she gets here in the morning. I’m not an asshole.”

He seemed to process that as you loaded the dishwasher and chugged a final glass of water before putting the glass in the dishwasher, too.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” you said. “Been a hell of a day. Want me to turn the light off so you can sit in the dark with your coffee again?”

Joel just shrugged.

“Don’t really matter,” he said. “Good night.”

“Night,” you said, turning to go before you remembered what Quinn had told you. “Hey, actually, why didn’t you mention that today was your birthday?”

He flinched, the movement so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it, and you had the strangest desire to comfort him somehow. You just didn’t know why.

“Don’t like my birthday,” he said after a moment. “Not a lot of reasons to celebrate so I just don’t. Besides, don’t really like being the center of attention.”

You laughed a little at that.

“Yeah, I know the feeling. But… well, happy birthday, anyway. Thanks for looking after Ellie.”

He nodded slowly.

“Thanks,” he said. “It… it was nice.”

You wanted to say something else but you couldn’t think of what so instead, you turned out the light and left him there, drinking coffee from your favorite mug alone in the dark.

Next Chapter

A/N: So sorry for the eternity between chapters. I've just not been able to keep up with things lately. I hope you enjoyed it, anyway.

I'm really enjoying their dynamic! Some active antagonism based in misunderstanding of motives, some mutual attraction, a lot of similar life experiences that they don't fully grasp yet. I just really love these two and I'm so excited to share where they're headed! Thanks for being here.

Love you!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler @lilyevanstan1325 @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @wintersquirrel

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #The Savage and the Sanctuary

147 notes · View notes

carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 1 year ago

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 50

Part 1 Part 49

Steve feels like he’s drowning, always. It’s just hard to care about school too much when he knows there’s a different universe beneath their feet just waiting to gobble him back up. Barbara is anchor. She keeps his feet on this side of the ground with a roll of her eyes and patience beyond her years for his stupid questions.

Every Thursday is like a mad dash to get all of his homework done. She seems to know that he won’t do it any other day of the week. Too busy drowning, always.

Nancy, having heard the words “Study Group,” had joined by the second week. Barbara had pretended to be exasperated, but seemed excited once Jonathan hadn’t made his own appearance.

Where Barbara was all exasperated patience, Nancy never moves past the exasperation. She tries to beat the answers into his head with an iron fist until Barbara will take over, leaving Nancy to work on her own assignments and stew about Steve’s apparent stupidity.

When it gets too stressful, Steve’s mind drifts to Eddie, down the hall in the drama room, telling his stories with his usual dramatic flair. His eyes would be twinkling as he watches the members of Hellfire stumble around making mistake after mistake. God, he misses him.

But, every failed class is another step behind Eddie. What if Eddie wants to move, leave Hawkins in the rearview mirror, leaving Steve along with it? So, he tries his best. He studies. He tries.

Steve doesn’t notice something has changed until Nancy groands. He looks up, ready to drop his English homework at almost no provocation. Carol has slid into the empty seat at their table and is now dragging notebooks out of her backpack like she was invited.

“Can I help you?” Nancy asks, voice practically dripping with disdain.

Carol looks up at her, eyes wide and innocent. “Is this not a public use libaray?” she asks, fishing a pencil out of her back without looking just so she can twirl it around her fingers effortlessly.

Nancy narrows her eyes. “There are other tables.”

“Steve invited me.”

Steve can’t help the snort. If talking to Eddie about it when Carol had happened to walk by counts as an invitation, who is Steve to deny her? This time, both Nancy and Carol glare at him. He holds his hands up placatingly. They’re like sharks though, and there’s blood in the water. He just hopes not too much of it is his.

“What do you mean you invited her?” Nancy demands.

Steve scowls. “I can invite whoever I want!”

Barbara sighs, rolling her eyes as she snaps her book shut. “Can we just get back to–”

“Is this a lover’s spat?” Carol interrupts, smiling at Nancy sweetly the way she does just before her claws swipe. “Oh, wait no. You ditched him, didn’t you?”

Nancy’s cheeks darken with embarassment, but she says hotly, “I did not ditch–”

Carol doesn’t let Nancy finish. “Did you wait until he was out of the hospital, at least, to fall into Byers’ bed?”

“Carol,” Barbara says, sounding pissed. “Can you shut the fuck up?”

But it’s too late. Nancy gathers her things and stalks out of the library in a huff. Steve sighs.

“Was that necessary?” he asks, plunking his head down on the table. God, why were these people even his friends? He misses Eddie ever more. Eddie would never make things so fucking awkward. He latches onto their connection, letting it warm him from the inside out as he watches Carol examine her nails.

“Sorry for defending you,” she says, like she actually believes it.

Steve sighs again, even more wearily, suddenly too tired to keep his eyes open. “You’ve gotta stop starting shit without all the facts, Carol.” he says, not even opening his eyes to look at her. “We figured it out weeks ago.”

The only sound at their table, in the whole library, is the noise of paper fluttering. He peeks through his eye, sees Barbara has opened her book on the table once more. “Why do you think she’s even here?” she says, glaring down at her book. “Do you think Steve would’ve invited her if they hadn’t hashed it out?”

Carol looks down at Steve’s raised eyebrow, knowing him too well. Because yes, yes he would. Steve had been born with a chronic need to make everyone like him. It’s uncurrable and Carol has spent a not inconsiderable amount of time telling people to fuck off on Steve’s behalf.

He glares up at her, refusing to raise his head. She rolls her eyes. “Fine! I’ll apologize to little Miss Wheeler,” she says. When Barbara and Steve just keep staring at her she continues. “Tomorrow, no way in hell am I chasing Wheeler down.”

“Whatever you say,” Steve says, but he dutifully raises his head and opens his own book when Barbara snaps her fingers in his face.

One second he’s looking down, trying to make out the gibberish words of Macbeth, and then he’s there – still in the library, but it’s gone wrong again. There are vines crawling on the carpet, and it’s dark beyond the red light flooding the cracked windows.

Barbara and Carol have disappeared. He grasps onto the tether in his chest and yanks, hoping against hell that it pulls him back to Will. Back to Eddie. Nothing happens.

He keeps his breaths even and closes his eyes, hoping once he opens them, he’ll be back. He opens his eyes.

It doesn’t work.

Everything’s still red, until it’s not. It’s like something vast has steped in front of what passes for a sun in this place. There’s streaks of red like blood painting the walls and carpet, stripes of shadows interspersed, growing thicker and thicker, like whatever is out there is coming closer.

Steve looks up at the window, horrified. He can’t look away from the window. Just sits there and waits for that thing to come get home. Waits for Eddie to come save him. He can’t look away.

That’s why he doesn’t notice the vine until it’s crawling up his ankle and yanks. He hits the carpet, hard.

“Steve?” Barbara asks. She’s crouched beside him, looking worried as Carol laughs, still in her seat. “Are you okay?”

Steve smiles up at Barbara. “Sorry, must have dozed off.”

She furrows her brows, clearly disbelieving as she asks, “are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine!” he says, sitting up painfully from the carpet. He doesn’t look back at Barbara’s expression, but he can feel her pointed glare. “Fine, I twinged my shoulder a bit.”

“The bad one?” she demands, already pulling his sweatshirt off his shoulder to take a look.

That gets Carol’s attention. “You have a bad one?” she asks, sliding out of her chair to sit by him on the floor. He can tell the moment his injury is uncovered by the way her eyes widen. It’s mostly scar now, red and jagged and puckered around the edges. It’s all edge. “What the fuck?”

Barbara examines the wound, as if she even knows what to look for. She hasn’t ever seen it. In the hospital it’d been bandaged, and now he keeps it covered religiously. “I think it’s okay?” she says, like she’s asking him. He nods.

“Okay?” Carol demands. “What the fuck happened?”

Steve closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted. From the questions and the walking nighmare he keeps slipping into. “Can we not?” he asks, voice small.

There’s silence. Steve digs his head into the ground and doesn’t analyze it. “Okay,” Carol says quietly.

They settle back into their respective seats, and each pretend to focus as their designated study session time finishes quietly if unproductively. When the hour ticks over, Steve shoves his papers halfhazardly into his backpack, relieved to get out of there.

Carol and Barbara trail him through the hallways like escorts, but leave him two hallways down at the entrance to the drama room with barely a wave. Steve watches them walk away; their retreating backs look odd together, but people probably say the same thing about Steve and Eddie.

When he walks in, Eddie’s packing up his stuff while the Hellfire boys shout at each other. When the door slips shut with a click, Eddie’s head snaps up, eyes shining brightly. They dim a little when he sees how tired Steve looks, but he still calls, “Stevie!” excitedly.

Steve comes in, dropping down on the chair beside Eddie’s to wait, too tired to keep standing.

“You’ve gotta help us out, buddy,” Doug says, dropping awkwardly to his knees beside Steve, prostrating himself. “Eddie’s had to have told you something, right?”

Eddie scoffs, “you know I don’t DM and tell!” he says, like a liar. Both Uncle Wayne and Steve have been subjected to many a planning session is Eddie works out the kinks to his latest campaign.

“Sorry, Doug,” he says, patting the other boys head. “I don’t know shit.”

Doug groans, levering himself off the floor and dropping into the seat next to Steve with a mumbled curse and a pout.

“You should join then,” Jeff says, smirking over his head toward Eddie. “No way would Eddie kill you off.”

When Steve glances over, Eddie’s cutting his hand over his throat in a slashing motion he turns into the world’s most awkward wave when he catches Steve looking at him.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Steve replies, grimacing. “Bad enough I have to play with those butt munches.”

“Butt munches?” Gareth asks, arms crossed as he scowls over at Steve.

“You know, they’re about yay high.” Steve holds his hand up insultingly low to the ground. He smiles, can almost hear Dustin’s protest in his ear. “Won’t leave me alone for some goddamn reason.”

Doug, Gareth, and Jeff all trade glances Steve’s too tired to even try to interpret. “Freak,” Gareth says, nodding like they’d all agreed on something. Steve would be insulted, but he says it the same way Eddie does; like it’s the highest compliment he could bestow upon anyone.

The other two nod their agreements while Eddie groans and Steve looks between them bemusedly before looking at Eddie for an answer.

Eddie clears his throat uncomfortably, looks down at the wrist that doesn’t have his watch and says, “oh, look at the time!” he throws his arms in the air, yawning theatrically despite it barely being seven at night. “Time to go, Stevie!”

Steve squints up at him, befuddled. “Freak,” he says, sharing nods with the other three. Doug nods like this is serious business, but Jeff and Gareth bite their lips against a laugh as Eddie groans.

“I never should have introduced you,” he says forlornly, grabbing his stuff and linking his arm with Steve’s to lead him away.

Yeah, it’s been a good day.

Part 51

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #my fic #steve harrington #eddie munson

393 notes · View notes

fairlyang · 1 month ago

Text

this is self indulgent bc its my bday but also goes out to any other fellow sag girlies that love wade<3

w/c: 926

pairing: wade wilson x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. celebrating your birthday, mutual masturbation mention, teasing, cumming fast, dirty talk, somno, unprotected sex, creampie, making you breakfast, surprise gift

taglist: @reader-1290

smutmas masterlist | main masterlist

celebrating your birthday with wade!⚔️

birthdays. a whole rotation around the sun, or the moon? whichever it was, he always forgot the saying but he didn’t really care for them, at least not his own.

but yours was a different story. for yours he always had to make you feel special because you were. in his eyes you were the most special and on this day more than any another besides valentine’s day, he had to make sure you knew it without a single trace of doubt in your head.

the first thing he did was tease you an hour before midnight by jerking off in front of you but saying you can’t touch each other until the clock hit twelve. you were losing it so fast and your patience ran even more thin than his and that said a lot.

by the time the clock did hit midnight, you were overstimulated and had been edging yourself with him. he made you ride his dick only for you to cum too fast but he continued thrusting into you and quickly having his own orgasm as well.

what you thought would be the end of your night was really just the start and he pulled three more orgasms out of you with ease and only then decided that was enough for the night.

he'd help clean you up because he might be a somewhat cruel man but he wasn't inconsiderate and made sure you were clean and in new panties plus one of his t shirts. you would knock the fuck out, body aching but sleeping peacefully in his arms.

his ass would absolutely come up with the grand idea to wake you up with head and that's what it would start off as until he couldn't help himself and had to slide inside you. already having done this plenty of times before but never ever resisting the urge to fuck you because he was the biggest perv and you just looked so good.

you were knocked out fucking cold but still wet as if you were awake? how on god's green earth could he possibly be blamed for this?

you fit like a fucking glove as he was completely inside you, gripping his cock like your life depended on it. he was cracking jokes to himself under his breath while he slowly fucked you, only going slow because he didn't want you to wake up yet.

taking his time, watching how your pussy took him in and listening oh so intently to the small sounds you'd make. so cute and just absolutely clueless.

"if you saw this view, gorgeous, you wouldn't be able to blame me either."

"think i gotta do this even more often…"

"never getting tired of doing this."

your consciousness awoke, suddenly feeling filled between your legs and all because of his yapping did you realize what was going on. you yawned and wiped your eyes, looking behind you to see your boyfriend with his eyes rolled back and that was when you felt him spill his load deep inside you.

before you could even clown him, he immediately started pounding into you, not caring whatsoever that he was going to overstimulate himself because this was about you and pleasuring you. he just couldn't help himself, yet again.

he'd keep fucking you until he felt you clenching against him and shaking in front of his eyes while he held you lovingly, murmuring sweet dirty words into your ears. he had to stop himself from giving you another load, instead deciding to pull out just in time and shoot it at your mouth.

he'd offer to clean you up but instead you just asked for his help to take you to the bathroom to take a shower. after helping you get there and quickly saying no to helping you because he would get distracted too easily, he went to the kitchen to make the most decent breakfast he could make, eggs, frozen hash browns, and bacon.

with your favorite mug filled with your coffee, just how you like it.

he quickly scrambled to the living room floor, taking off a piece of the floor to grab the stacks of money he had just for you. was technically clean money, he just so happened to take from a rich man that owed him said money. he just took more as interest.

he also grabbed the bag of balloons that were all shades of pink and blew them up and tied them up with string as fast as he could, just praying he would beat you.

he set the balloons around your chair on the dining table and he set the stack up in a pyramid on the table then scrambled (pun intended) to put your breakfast on one plate.

once you stepped foot out of the room, your eyes landed on the handful of stacks of money wrapped in a baby pink ribbon shaped like bows. your eyes went wide as he yelled, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

"who did you steal that from?!??!"

"no one! well… no one important, princess, don't worry about it. it's all yours now." he said with the sweetest smile on his face, he looked so proud of himself.

you gave him a big hug, appreciative of the gesture, since this was practically his love language in a way. a little different than the normal but normal was boring and you were grateful he was anything but that.

"this is your birthday and christmas present by the way." he quickly quips making you chuckle, "of course it is."

#wade wilson #wade wilson smut #wade wilson x reader smut #deadpool #deadpool smut #deadpool x reader smut #deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #deadpool fic #12 days of smutmas

135 notes · View notes

puppetwoman17 · 11 months ago

Text

A Happy House: Part 1

Headcanon that when there are any quarrels or fights between league members, they cool down at Billy’s apartment.

I see this happening in the future when Billy’s like, early to mid 20s. He’s finally settled to the point where he doesn’t always worry about becoming a homeless kid again. People in the League know him as understanding to a fault, and always willing to listen to both sides of the story. His apartment is homey, and there are always magical creatures or family walking around, like his sister, best friend, or uncle Dudley. Maybe a celestial or a god is visiting. Maybe the universe’s higher ups are having a meeting in his dining room. Whatever is happening, it calms everyone down.

Sometimes it’s Connor, coming in from another fight with Clark. Sometimes it’s a fellow Magic user who feels ostrisized because of their power. Other times, it’s a Batfamily member who wants Bruce off their tail, and Billy will gladly use a shield spell to give them privacy from Batman’s detective skills. Other times it’s members of the Team after arguing with the JL. Or the JL sorting out a quarrel amongst themselves with Billy’s careful judgement.

Billy doesn’t know why he’s such a calming presence to them. He’s known them since he was a child, yes, a kid who hadn’t even hit the double digits. But he tends to be blunt. Straight to the point. He makes sure to show he cares, but the feeling can feel foreign at times when the world keeps biting you in the ass. And he can get mad when people are so obliviously stupid it hurts. He’s seen and heard more than enough arguments between adults to know when they’re pulling bullshit or saying something that shouldn’t be said. It’s an art at this point.

But he’s mostly quiet when someone comes over, and when the other person is permitted to enter, he lets them hash the argument out themselves, offering nothing but privacy and a smile when they leave.

…So yeah, he’s confused. But he’s just happy to help.

And the JL, Team and Titans are grateful too. He’s their relationship wingman! The guy who you know to go to when things get heated. His home is an oasis of calm and care.

They can watch as the Batson siblings banter in the kitchen. They can watch Billy bring John Constantine in by the ear and rip him a new one. They can smile in amusement as Billy puts one over on his fellow higher ups in the magic community on a freakin ZOOM call!

He’s easy to be around. There’s no pressure from him, no questions needing answers. He’s also not biased(unless it’s more than obvious who’s in the wrong).

So yeah, the heroes love their not-so-little-anymore magic man.

They love him so much that they immediately clock onto when things go horribly, horribly wrong.

See, Billy doesn’t like to get angry. When he’s Cap, he’s afraid of the power he possesses. He gets nauseous when someone bows to him like he’s their boss or something(which you are Billy bean, you gotta deal with it). Even when he’s in his mortal form, he doesn’t go beyond a flood of curse words or a couple jabs built off stress.

But there are a few people who know what buttons to push, and they push them. A lot. So much so that he tends to get a little…loud.

Oh and did I mention he didn’t exactly TELL his coworkers that he had an uncle? Hell, that he did have a family, they just didn’t care enough to be with him?

Yeah, that’s not gonna lead to anything, I’m sure.

#billy batson #captain marvel #justice league #shazam #dc universe #young justice #batfamily #superboy #mary batson #freddy freeman #uncle Dudley #uncle Ebenezer #young adult Billy Batson #he’s their safe space

228 notes · View notes

hainethehero · 10 months ago

Text

So I made the mistake of stumbling onto the NOT STEVE ROGERS FRIENDLY tag today and..

You have to be a special type of delusional to be this obsessed with a character you don't like!??

Over 2k fics have the tag and are almost entirely Tony Stark-centered fics. I'm assuming these are the "fans" who totally buy into the MCU canon and don't know any other Captain America lore outside of what Feige and Whedon have done. Or, they're the "fans" who refuse to understand the politics behind Steve's character and how he was inherently undermined throughout the entire ten years of the MCU by the directors and writers for most of the films.

Because the arguments in most of these fics for being "not Steve rogers friendly" are really surface level shit like:

1) "Steve refused to sign the Accords and broke up the Avengers" (he was right & he didn't break them up, an overemotional Tony did when he refused to listen to Bucky's side of the story).

2) Steve fought Tony and almost killed him (yeah, like Tony didn't blast Bucky's arm off and shoot his repulsor rays directly at Steve).

3)Steve is homophobic (y'all are just making up reasons to hate this man atp)

4)Steve is racist (Steve hated racists & you'd know that if you read the comics, or you guys are just that deluded that you're making Steve racist & trying to project it as canon and therefore a "reasonable" explanation as to why you hate him)

5)Blaming Steve for Rhodey's accident (WHICH WAS TEAM TONY'S FAULT!)

6)YALL, THEY MADE STEVE THE BAD GUY IN A BROCK RUMLOW/BUCKY FIC! I stg I cannot make this shit up💀 Steve's bad for wanting Bucky to be Bucky again, but somehow Brock's the good guy for wanting Bucky to be the Soldier...

Steve left Bucky for Peggy (we'll get to this soon)

There's a hundred more irrational reasons for the Steve Rogers hate, but let me get to the WORST part.

THERE ARE BUCKY STANS WHO ARE ANTI-STEVE ROGERS.

And I'm sorry, no. I don't accept that you love Bucky Barnes but hate the one person he loves the most in the world.

They argued in a couple fics that "Bucky also went rogue after Siberia but he didn't want to associate with Steve, Nat & the rest of the team- WHO HELPED RESCUE BUCKY & EVENTUALLY EXONERATE HIM- but rather, he went off on his own & eventually Tony finds him, they hash it out and become friends to lovers."

Helppp???? Wdym Bucky isn't gonna stick with the one man he's been keeping diaries about to try and get back his memories? But he'll go to the one guy that re-traumatized him by blowing out his arm again?

Not only that, but Bucky absolutely hates Steve in some of these fics and the reason will be, "he left Bucky to go back to Peggy." Like, you cannot be a serious fan if you're still going with the Endgame canon. For a majority of us, we recognize Endgame as being nothing but terrible writing and mischaracterizations. Why are yall not analyzing and interpreting media critically? The MCU has never been on Steve's side and have always diminished his character in an attempt to make Tony the ultimate hero of the OG 6. Don't yall know the discourse? It's embarrassing atp.

And this is my stance on the entire thing: there's nothing wrong with writing fics about characters you don't necessarily like or aren't interested in. It's OKAY if you don't like Steve Rogers- but you've gotta be rational about him, instead of hateful. Most, if not all of these "anti-steve" fics are written in bad faith. Bad understanding of the character and pure, shameless mischaracterizations which just makes these types of fics fickle and weak- hilarious to read though cos that Brock one had me deadddd😭💀.

163 notes · View notes

kisaraslover · 1 year ago

Note

DO U HAVE ANY BLUESHIPPING FIC REC?????PLEASENIMSTARVINGKSKSKKS

anon kskkasak ITS FINE ILL SAVE YOU OK? here goes:

Scenes from a Kaiba Marriage and Temptation by my blueshipping queen @kisara-kaiba as the opening. the peak of modern life blueshipping fluff, very lovesick, when im reading them its heart full, head empty. youre gonna be lucky to start them now cuz ill be rereading and drawing scenes from them this week👀. itll be like premium fanfic reading.

Enjambment -> this fic might be the single best written blueshipping fic by the virtue of MIRRORING their encounter in ancient Egypt beat by beat, including BOTH of their character arcs and the netflix show vibe of suspense and the sharp, cold and bleak setting is chefs kiss. changed my brain chemistry. still one of my favorite portrayals of Kisara.

Maiden with Eyes of Blue -> Sometimes time needs to slow down and a single scene should be a character study/ hashing out of things you needed acknowledged by canon, the situation is ESPECIALLY dire for Seto Kaiba as ive made my feelings on his writing known many times. This is it. Kisara isnt reincarnated in this one though, but her love for him can be felt in the air. Ngl you could just incorporate this into post canon and it would be fine. canon compliant+ canon enriching.

Shades of Water, Ice, and Sky -> I'm skimming through each fic to see what they were about and i just gotta say: why so heart-wrenching if so short?? theyre in love your honor.

Their Promise: Book I -> ok gonna be honest w you i havent finished this one and the main reason is that i cant go past the SPECTACULAR first chapter. ive started and failed to draw it in its entirety. i open it, i chew on the first chapter like a rabid dog, i close it more often than not. the second reason is it has a lot more angst and heartbreak than most blueship fics do and im weak to that sort of thing. still, if we follow their ancient egypt encounter beat by beat, which is a fantastic way of following and enriching the canon, their first meeting needs to be as kids with him saving her from a cage. chefs kiss.

who are you? -> JUST the right amount of Seto Kaiba immediate fixation obsession on Kisara (which means insanely obsessed)

You Will Crave Your Ancient Roots -> this is so good and so heartbreaking man. Seto and Atem are shot back into ancient Egypt and Seto is only able to slightly alter the events around Kisara. hes fated to fall for that woman every single time and *starts sobbing*

Ancient Rules -> all i gotta say is this Seto Kaiba gives me brainworms. hes chuck full of Passion and Cockiness and Insanity. blueshippers sometimes take out his insanity. he is very unsettling here i love it. Kisara is truly at his mercy..

never forget your first dream -> fem!Set and Kisara in ancient Egypt, this story twists more than just Seto's gender. im a yuri seto truther so its great to have written proof of it. jokes aside, very well characterized Set and Kisara, rich writing.

One in Forty -> pretty short but this one fundamentally changed how i viewed Kisara's canon influence over BEWD cards and her constant and unbendable favor around Seto. canon compliant + canon enriching.

ok so these are the cream of the crop for ME personally, might have forgotten some in my other folders, i might have missed reading some, its probably not all encompassing. but frankly ive liked and saved fics for a single resounding line, single funny joke, one interesting implication about the story or the characters the author wrote up so in my heart theyre all worth checking out, always. fanfic writers are carrying this ship on their backs and theyre all 9 ft tall and im just walking around them, clearing the path, giving them a sip of water and snacks etc. so THANK YOU BLUESHIPPING AUTHORS I LOVE YOUUUUUU

#yugioh #ygo #kisara #blueshipping #ask tag #seto kaiba #not art #fic rec #some king i am!!!#no really the only reason ive been here this long is because of their writing. it sustains me. it keeps me alive. AND KEEPS ME DRAWIN #mwah #fanart is a single moment of emotion. single second of love. fanfics able you to WATCH them love yknow? howling at the moon #i gotta tidy my folders i have more blueshipping fics than this i know it #im missing some im sure

57 notes · View notes

assignmentimprobable · 5 months ago

Text

I haven’t subjected anybody to my posting in the last month so it’s time to break my streak with a dose of word salad.

To Start… It really gets my goat that it’s sort of integrated into Wolverine lore on a fandom level now that Stryker was the Weapon X culprit. Not necessarily because ‘oh that’s not how it was in the comics!’, even though that’s part of it. More because I think there is something genuinely interesting in the kind of evil that Stryker presented in God Loves, Man Kills (1982), the story that made up half of the movie’s plot elements and themes.

More below the cut. Warning for discussions of eugenics, racism, mentions of lynching.

Yes. This comic.

There’s a lot to be said about the prevailing relevance of televangelists using religious hypocrisy and white supremacist ideology in mass media to spead bigotry and incite lynchings within their following.

I do actually recognize the value of compositing Stryker’s character with Dr. Thornton from the Weapon X (1991) story. You only get 2 hours to hash out what’s happening, the writers wanted to pick up the threads from the last movie. For the purpose of a movie, a military contractor and scientist is an easy evil to swallow, because duh, and an easier one to clean up. That said, I think it was only ever good for that one outing.

Seeing him again in Origins can be explained as taking us back full circle— But even then, it falls apart because there’s such a Nothingness to his inclusion. He’s a generic CO without anything to add to the overarching dialogue on mutants, or the underpinnings of the original Weapon X story (Which is a problem for another post because I’ve got some fucking WORDS to say about the entirety of… all that. And how the movie undertook it). I KNOW that you’re probably thinking ‘why would you expect intelligence from origins’, and it’s like, I don’t. I watched that shit when it hit bootleg fresh off the DVD guy’s trunk collection. But if you’re gonna make such a big change with these kinds of ramifications on a movie timeline and stand on it, then well. I’m gonna write about it. Especially when he’s in fuckin DOFP and I’ve gotta see his foreshadowed impact getting waved around.

The point of Stryker in GLMK was that he couldn’t be easily handled by sending the X-Men in, he’s a political figure using the cover of free speech, fundamentalist Christian “values” and gathering enough clout to perpetrate some heinous shit.

Stryker didn’t need to experiment on anybody or invade the X-Mansion to make their lives palpably worse. He was gathering up the already large following of people gung ho as fuck to legislate on mutant rights. I used the word “lynching” earlier with intent, because that’s exactly what he did: the comic starts with two black mutant children being lynched and having a sign with the mutant slur hung on the bodies. Which. Alright. The use of black pain and black death in a story like this inevitably serves the allegory and makes the conclusion inescapable for even the most braindead readers of 1982. Dare I say, inescapable for the braindead readers of 2024. That said, the margin of leeway you can give it (if you even want to) gets smaller when you consider Kitty Pryde dropping the n word to ‘prove a point’ in the same story. How the mutant metaphor constantly assumes the volatility and natural genetic power of the underclass. Or how the team never seemed to have more than one face of color at a time having something vital to do, if even that. Hm.

Anyways, in invoking the imagery for this murder: The story illustrates that Stryker’s ultimate conclusion is 1-to-1 with his real life counterparts. It’s the last stop on the train to annihilation, and it never stops at just one group of arbitrarily picked undesirables. Bigotry never has one layer . You peel it back and you get another. You get down to the root of eugenics, the exclusion it’s all white supremacy. The same fire and brimstone preacher tactics, the same righteous indignation about problems that aren’t even Real. Designations of ‘natural’ that are presupposed by European defaults. The front runners of it have just gotten enough fucking simpletons thinking that they won’t be next, or not even *caring* that they’ll be next, as long as the object of their hate gets to suffer. It all comes down to the fuckin race science with these people. It does stink something fierce that FOX/Marvel were so afraid of pissing off evangelists that they bit the bullet and changed things up. It’s really a disservice to the story it’s adapting, and I LIKE X2! It’s probably my favorite of the movies?

TLDR: Corporations are cowards when it comes to standing on business. The Strykers of the world were real 42 years ago and they’re real now. Oh, and if I never see William Stryker again in an X-Men film, it’ll be too soon.

#xmen #x men #william stryker #god loves man kills #x-men #stevie speaks

11 notes · View notes

istherewifiinhell · 6 months ago

Text

the ways in which we are So Fucking Back, cannot even BEGIN to be communicated.

[Splinter Forever. Story: lloyd Goldfine. Art: Khary Randolph Colours: Emilio Lopez Letters: Tom Napolitano and Shawn Lee]

[ID: 03 show styled comic, the turtles crowd around splinter with looks of concern/relief. Splinter doing his best to hug them all back but saying "You so know I could have freed myself anytime I wished too..." Splinter narration: ...And, even if given forever... END] Next narration: I could not have dreamed of one better.

idw 40th anniversary book. various caps i took cause i really liked them (by they way the few stories i did NOT cap is not cause i didnt like em by any means. and for some it was cause i was TOO SAD! i liked them SO MUCH! they HURT to LOOK AT. kay thx)

book creds. Editor: Nicolas Niño. Supervising Editor: Jamie S. Rich. Design: Nathan Widick

might as well start with the 03 one cause its already up there

[ID: 1. Action shot the turtles jumping thru a window, in varied cool poses, rimlit in blue moonlight. Leo: Mikey, thin out the foot! Donnie, free Splinter! Shredder's mine! Raph: I got hun! Mikey, singing: Turtles, count it off! Splinter, narrating: Here, I speak not of mutation… but of my sons, could I ever have dreamed I would become a father. 2. Action shot of turtles and Splinter together, all yelling a "Hai-yah!" Splinter narration: Never has there been a father prouder of his children. END]

ur reminder that 03 is the one that was literally just a rat b4 mutation. sometimes life hands u 4 reptiles and some weird alien go and u go. okay these are my beautiful children now

and you know the tweets like. i gotta accept u didnt make the tmnt? u gotta accept youll DIDNT draw a rat this SICK. his swag. unparalleled.

[ID: Splinter punching the Shredder, cropped close, the line of motion accented by his rodent features, carrying from his tail and digitigrade leg, to the pointed tip of his snout. His fur nicely emphasized from show style. END]

okay in presented order now. (again. only the ones im emotionally strong enough for) it opened with eastman's, four pages to a poe poem, Deep lorey in its own way. ALSO SAD!

[Monsters. Story, Art and Letters: Jim Lawson Colours: Steve Lavigne]

[ID: A very squared jaw turtle style, bold black likes of varying thickness, lots of hashing. It's Raph turning to look over his shoulder with a "Hmp", mask tails flowing behind his head. END]

eeeeee lookit him. mwah. [me explaining] u see. mirage turtles. there so lumpy. and thats EXCELLENT

[Gang Wars. Story: Tristan Jones. Art: Paul Harmon Letters: Tom Napolitano]

[ID: Rounded head, prominent beak, almost movie puppet turtle style. Art has strong penwork , filled with hatching, but soft impressionistic colours, looking both loose yet detailed. 1. Mike is carrying a women as he climbs a ladder. She's tipped almost complete upside down over his shell. Her narration: You perspective shifts... Soft pinkish hue lights them from below. 2. Mike jumping from the roof with a cheerful "Gotta run!", smiling and offering as salute, both nunchaku in hand. Warm golden light hitting his front as he's half turned. END]

HI. I dont recognize your name (YET) Mr harmon sir. but would u like my award for most gorgeous colour rendering on any mutant turtles ever ever in the whole wide world. (sobbing) mikey.... my boy. my beloved loved boy

(there was comics also repping the image and archies runs here. neither of which ive read yet, SORRY. all the same they were both VERY CHARMING)

[What About Tomorrow. Story: Eric Burnham. Art: Sarah Myer Colour: Luis Antonio Delgado Letters: Shawn Lee]

[ID: 87 show styled comic. Raph is quipping to the villain (or perhaps the audience) "Don't tell me… Sherlock Holmes?" He has a hand on hip, side eyeing Donnie very strongly and says "Don't give me that look, Donatello. He said guess!" Don is looking at him so incredibly flatly. END]

have u literally very seen something more perfect than that. look at their fucking FACESSSSS. urghh. characterization? perfect. u can hear it. i controlled myself here. i didnt cap the entire fucking comic

[ID: Splinter smiling, eyes close, we see what he is reminiscing on. His human self, reading a book and holding the for normal baby turtles. He say "When I was Hamato Yoshi, I could never have guessed I'd become a mutant rat. Or that I would raise four turtles into heroes I am endlessly proud of. END]

LOOK AT THIS FUCKING RAT. and his turtle sons. (he doesnt call them sons in this cartoon but their his fuckinngggg sons.)

splinter forever we covered.

[Kraang Among Us. Story and Art: Ciro Nieli Letters: Shawn Lee]

[ID: A 2012 show styled comic, Nieli's style having a punky marker quality to it in comic form. 1. Drawn small, the turtles character-fully posed. Raph casual and aside, Leo earnest out front, Mikey excited and ready, Donnie last, interest in a beeping gadget. 2. Leo bowing on the ground solemn/serene. 3. Graphically bold panel, Mikey has a hand up, smiling cockily, saying "STOP! …My turn. Hit it, Ice Cream Kitty!" Ice cream kitty, (indeed a cat made of Neopolitan) Clicks on a boom box. 4. Donnie says "This can't be good…", with a look of shock at his gadget, wall of text Beeping behind him. A sort of pink viscera explosion just barely in view. END]

which im particular stunned by seeing nieli's creations rendered in 2 dimensions. they looks so fucking good! tho, from all the other aesthetic makers within the show, it totally make sense, the sort of, graphic pop grime. donnie in partic looks so cute, feel like his look is possible BETTER suited for this than the cg, sorry stringbean.

no raph stunner shot sorry he was only in like 2 panels lol.

Rises "Farewell Story" was here. In which Andy Suriano made me cry and cheer and. GUH. look on the internet. u might see some shit. Also a showing from IDW mainline in "Father's Day"... can u maybe GUESS? fantastic gut punch.

[Teen Spirit: Story: Ronda Pattison Art: Pablo Tunica Letters: Tom Napolitano]

[ID: The current mainline comics look, influence from Campbell. The turtles are round and bulky, a light touch used defining the contours of their heads. Wearing grey lose clothes and white limb wraps. Clean detailed black line, water colour like detailed render. All five turtles in a rocky forest, various states of concentration to summon colour coded magic energies. Jennika on her stomach, kicking feat, playful. Leo hunched close to his, looking intent. Raph with tongue out, first in one hand. Donnie, in eyes closed mediation. Mikey, his hands over head, a rain of fallen leaves from his dispersed magic. He says "Whoops!" END]

Pattison I recconize as a prolific idw turtle colourist. tunica i dont but is another i WILL have to be on the look out for. who doesnt like the sophie campbell era of turtle. they are SOOOO. everything. to me.

bro. which fucking continuity has them all so fucking cute magic hijinks mentored by the SHREDDER. cant wait to find out (i think there was some ghilbi visual ref moments esp. in his panels. VERY CUTE. lord help us all) looook at them. look at raph :p. LOOK AT JENNY JENNY JENNIKA.

okay. thats it. hey guys? turtles is good.

#some shit #turbles...#idw placeholder tag #kjdgjhsdf Okay YAAAAAY. finished this yesterday but decided to WAIT. until i had. less sleep deprived eyes to check my words lol #i loooooove u turtles. i love fictional characters of turtles i love u. turtles as a history of comic story telling. i loooooove.#art. and narrative. in sequence. and the ppl who make it. wahhhhh

7 notes · View notes

championofravens · 1 year ago

Note

My problem with Risen doesn't even start with Crow, it starts with Saladin's story and his little "moral." He's asked to stop a thief (when thieving was punishable by death), finds that a little girl was the culprit, and shows her mercy. Good.

But all he does is give her an extremely vague platitude before slaughtering her "caretakers," then goes on his merry way.

Mercy wasn't the problem in this situation, because people do deserve second chances! Things could have turned out differently if he'd put slightly more effort in, because ultimately the only thing he gave to her was a moral compass that said might makes right and something vague about wolves.

He left a literal child to fend for herself during one of humanity's darkest ages and had the audacity to call that mercy simply because he didn't kill her. How am I supposed to take this seriously as a moral lesson?

So, I read this aloud to my husband in the car during a drive. As soon as I finished, he told me he completely I agreed. I told him he was stupid. But we hashed it out for a good chunk of the drive and I really felt like we nailed some new points of contention with Bungee overall.

1. You *are* right. Both in recalling the canon events and the logical frustration of Saladin's actions. Because yeah. Why didn't he save that little girl? Why didn't he take her... anywhere else? Do anything else? Why were the only paths he saw before him to kill her or leave her? And that's when my husband relayed his frustration to me of Destiny's recent dichotomy issue in storytelling. Nothing rests outside it. The story presents a good option and a bad option which must be taken urgently over and over again with little desire to consider third options. Further more, we both agreed it would have been MUCH more in character for Saladin to have done something else! Something much more helpful! And this is an issue with has infected every aspect of Destiny's seasonal storytelling since (imo, it's most obvious with how Eramis is treated in the seasons that come after)

2. So, why did I disagree so strongly when I read your ask the first time? Yeah I'm a Saladin enjoyer but I'm also terminally INTJ pilled. I bow to logic and canon. I think my issue was that I felt it was... cheating. To even put forth the idea that Saladin could have done something else. Because the dichotomy. If you question any bit of seasonal storytelling with "why not just do something else?" a lot falls apart really fast. It's like watching a romcom and pointing out the obvious miscommunication. You are not WRONG but I feel like if you enjoy Destiny at all, you have to suspend your belief in certain ways or you start to pick at too many threads. Unravelling the tapestry.

3. But back on track- if you are right, if you are saying that the real moral was "Saladin failed in continuing the violent cycle of might makes right"

.......

THEN WHAT WAS THE POINT?

What does that have to do with mind reading Hive Guardians. What does Saladin failing a human child by adhering to barbaric justice have to do with Crow bumbling his way into killing a guy so he can turn off a machine? What does this moral have to do with Season of the Risen??? What was the fucking point of any of this. I'm tired.

4. This still proves Saladin shoulda just killed her, hilariously. Like yeah you've convinced me what he did was fucked up. Shame third choices don't exist in Destiny. GUESS SHE'S GOTTA GO!!!!!

#ask #destiny 2

11 notes · View notes

leahnardo-da-veggie · 4 months ago

Note

Does Hash have any tattoos? Anything to help 'em remember the past? Could he just like, manifest them? Shapeshifters are in my top 3 fantasy creatures so I gotta know.

He honestly would look good with tattoos, now that I think about them. And yeah, a shapeshifter of his skill definition could do fine adjustments like tattoos. The trouble with more inexperienced shapeshifters is that they singularly suck at nailing the smallest details (pores, flecks in the eyes, etc), and that's what makes them stand out as a fake/mimic. (Think the uncanny valley, or something equally creepy.)

He doesn't have much in the way of things to remember the past for several reasons. Firstly, he travels incredibly light. Second, if he took a trinket for everything he's experienced, the poor fool would be crushed under the weight of the past. Third, he just doesn't want to remember, coward that he is. He'd rather pretend it doesn't exist, which is why he never settles down. (Admittedly, if he did, Fast Food wouldn't be a decent story.)

Thanks for the ask <33

#Asks

4 notes · View notes

lemoncrushh · 6 months ago

Text

Wild Horses - Ten

Summary: Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

A/N: Please note all portions in italics are meant to be flashbacks :).

STORY PAGE

Chapter Ten Word Count: 5.6k+

“Just ‘cause I can’t go on, just ‘cause I die when you’re gone, just ‘cause I think of you in bed…” - Jordin Sparks; Don’t Let It Go to Your Head

Amber wiped the tear she’d felt slip from the corner of her eye just as Laci disappeared from the screen, in a hurry to get back to her dolls.

“Now honey,” said Pauline, returning to the FaceTime call, “don’t you start crying, or you’ll make me into a big ol’ slobbering mess.”

“Sorry, Mom,” sniffled Amber. “I just feel like I’m missing so much.”

“Not really,” argued her mother, trying to diffuse the emotions. “Just the everyday stuff. We’re not doing much but going to preschool and dance class. And back home again.”

“That’s what I mean,” Amber frowned.

“I know baby,” Pauline said softly. “But you’re living your dream, right?”

“Yeah,” she replied with a sigh as she wiped another tear.

Taking the initial step to call her mom had been the hardest part. Amber had been reluctant to tell Pauline about the situation with Carter, and unload all of her grief in the process. She hadn’t wanted her mother to worry, but even more, she’d felt ashamed. The call had proven to be productive, however, and after over an hour of hashing everything out, getting her mother’s point of view and ever-present unconditional love, she felt better - albeit very homesick.

“So you’ve told me about your new drummer, and how your band’s getting along, but what about Mister Cutie?”

Amber couldn’t help but laugh. “Who’s Mister Cutie?”

“Harry!” exclaimed Pauline with wide eyes. “Who else?”

“Mother,” Amber shook her head.

“Oh c’mon, hon, even I can recognize a hottie! I’m not dead.”

Amber laughed again as she rocked cross-legged on the bed. “Harry’s a sweet guy.”

“Well, that’s good,” her mom declared. “Wouldn’t want to know my daughter’s the opening act for an asshole.”

“Mom!”

Interrupting their giggles, a knock sounded on the door. Almost like deja vu, Amber recalled the last time she’d been FaceTiming her mother and Carter had knocked on the door. With a sigh, she asked Pauline to wait, setting her phone on the bed. Unlocking the door, she hesitantly opened it to find an easy, dimpled grin on the other side, green sparkling eyes above it.

“Hi,” he greeted, the one simple word in his deep voice making her insides flip and providing a sense of calmness at the same time.

“Hey,” she grinned back, speaking in a hushed tone. “I’m on the phone with my mom, but you can come in.”

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt!” Harry held up a hand.

“It’s fine. We were just finishing up.”

Harry stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind him as Amber rushed back to her phone.

“Hey, Mom, I gotta go.”

“Okay, honey. Call me soon, okay?”

“You bet,” Amber agreed as she felt a poke on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Harry gesture toward the phone, his brows raised in question. With another sigh, she smiled. “Mom, someone wants to say hi.”

“Oh?”

Before she could say more, Harry leaned over Amber’s shoulder so that his face could be in the camera’s view.

“Hi, mum, I’m Harry!” he waved with his child-like joy.

Pauline didn’t miss a beat. “Well, yes you are! Hi, Harry, I’m Pauline.”

“Hi, Pauline. How are you?”

“I’m just fine and dandy. Just miss my baby girl.”

Harry nodded and Amber felt him squeeze her other shoulder. “She misses you, too.”

“Oh, she talks about me, does she?” Pauline inquired.

“Yeah, you know. All the bad stuff,” Harry quipped.

“Harry!” Amber shouted, earning herself another dimple and squeeze.

“I’m joking. Lovely to meet you Pauline. Hope to see you in person soon.”

“Same here, sweetheart. Y’all go have fun. Time for me to get that little rascal to bed,” said Pauline.

“Night, Mom. Kiss Laci for me,” Amber swallowed, keeping her tears down.

“Of course, honey. Goodnight.”

Disconnecting the call, Amber felt Harry’s hand slip from her shoulder and down her back, stopping in the center. With a heavy breath, she turned and looked at him.

“Your mum’s lovely,” he commented.

“Thanks.”

“She looks like you. Or... you look like her.”

Amber’s lips spread into a smile then, knowing he meant it as a compliment. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, it took all she had not to pull him closer.

The last couple of days had been fantastic. Despite the ever-present nerves she had around Harry, her attraction to him building more and more each day, she took solace in merely being in his presence. He made her feel happy, assuring her - whether with words or not - that everything was going to be okay. And she figured that even if nothing happened romantically or physically between the two of them, she was glad just to know him and to be his friend.

“So…” Amber slapped her hands on her thighs. “What’s up? Did you wanna go grab something to eat, or…?”

“Oh!” Harry suddenly rose from the bed. “Well, yeah. But first, I have something for you.”

Amber’s eyes lit up as she scooted closer to the edge of the bed. “Ooh! What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” Harry commanded, backing into the dresser.

“Um...alright,” Amber obliged, but not without taking a peek to see Harry grabbing something from behind him.

“Keep ‘em shut, you cheater!”

Amber giggled, covering her eyes with her hands as Harry’s accent rang through the room. Then within a second, she could feel his presence as he stood before her, the smell of his cologne - and something else, perhaps one of his candles - filling her senses.

“Are they closed?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. You can open ‘em now.”

Dropping her hands, Amber lifted her eyelids slowly as she caught sight of the white, square box with the little apple on top in his hands.

“What?” she gasped. “You’re giving me AirPods?”

“Yeah. You need some, right?”

“Well…” Amber began as she took the box, unable to form a coherent thought. “Um...I needed earbuds, Harry, but…”

“These are better.”

“Yeah but...they’re like...way too expensive!”

“No,” Harry argued. “They’re a gift. From me. So you can workout in the gym...to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ or anything else you fancy.”

The dimples made their appearance again as Amber replaced the lid on the box and set it beside her. Then rising from the bed, she wrapped her arms around his waist, his scent smelling a hundred times better as she pressed her cheek to his chest.

“Thank you so much,” she murmured softly.

“You’re very welcome,” he said, hugging her back.

“I can’t believe you’re not sick of me saying that yet,” she scoffed, unable to let go of their embrace. She felt Harry’s chest shake slightly as a tiny sound escaped his throat.

“Amber...I don’t reckon I could ever be sick of you.”

“Climb in!” called Faith from the driver’s side of her truck.

Amber sat on her front stoop, hugging her knees.

“No thanks.”

Putting the truck in park, Faith turned off the engine and climbed out. Walking around the front bumper, she sat down next to Amber.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you lately.”

“I’ve been sick.” Amber looked at her sandaled feet, tracing the V on her flip flops.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Faith grimaced. “Feeling better?”

“A little.”

The girls were quiet for a moment as Amber looked up to watch the one tree in her yard sway in the breeze.

“I was about to go to the store. Wanna come?”

Amber knew which store Faith was going to, and that was only because Tyler Finch worked there. He was in community college and was Faith's newest pursuit.

“Nah, I don’t feel like it.”

Faith sighed. “Are you still not over the whole Dallas thing?”

“The whole Dallas thing?” Amber scoffed. “Yeah, sure, if that’s what you wanna call it.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just…it’s been weeks now. I feel bad that he did you like he did, but…did you really like him that much?”

“No!”

“I mean…I seem to remember you saying it was over pretty quickly. He obviously wasn’t that into you.”

Rising from the step, Amber opened the screen door to her trailer.

“Amber…” Faith whined.

“Bye, Faith.” With that, Amber went inside, leaving Faith alone on the stoop.

The tour was going amazingly well. Not only were the shows sold out - it was Harry’s tour after all - but Amber noticed more and more that the arenas were filling up long before her set. She would see girls in the floor section arriving early in their Harry Styles merch or even custom Harryesque outfits, singing along to every word of her songs. One night in Indianapolis, Harry hugged her so tight after her set, murmuring softly in her ear.

“I’m so proud of you, darling.”

Had the rest of her band not come up behind her to join in the camaraderie, she might have kissed him. At least that’s what she told herself. She was on such a high that night. And ever since then, as she lay awake in bed, she’d fantasize about having actually done it - what his possible reaction might have been, and if he would have kissed her back.

She hadn’t had a drink in a while. One week and five days to be exact. That was a lot for her, given the fact that she used to have at least a couple drinks a day. She owed that all to Harry too. They had been spending so much time together, whether it was for a meal, to discuss music or just to fill time, that she hadn’t even felt like she needed a drink. Amber even noticed Harry would go to the gym a little later than usual in the mornings, so he was only halfway through his workout when she arrived, rather than finishing up. She wasn’t sure a hundred percent if this was intentional, but she liked to think so.

On this particular day, an off day, Harry had invited Amber to join him for a visit to the local museum. While she’d emphatically said yes when he’d asked, Amber quickly felt the nerves return to her tummy. She was not a cultured girl. In fact, most people would call her a hick or a hillbilly, at the very least a country girl. She had never visited a museum in her life, unless you counted the wildlife museum back home that she took a school field trip to in the third grade. She didn’t think that counted. It was more like a petting zoo.

Amber made it a point to wear a dress. Not a fancy one, and certainly not one she wore on stage. It was a black dress with dainty flowers on it, a 90s babydoll style. She paired it with her favorite cardigan and a pair of tan sandals. Twirling in the mirror, she felt cute, pretty even. And it was a pretty day.

Stepping outside where Harry told her to meet her, she saw the awaiting car, but no Harry yet. She was just about to check her phone to see if he’d texted her when she heard his voice behind her.

“Good morning.”

Spinning around, Amber was met with a very comfortable looking Harry in one of his signature hoodies and a pair of shorts. He’d obviously just showered as his curls were still damp, and he smelled of very expensive aftershave. His smile faded, however, when his eyes scanned over her.

“Shit, I feel underdressed.”

Amber scoffed and shook her head. “Don’t be silly.”

“C’mon, love, you look so pretty, and I…” he looked down at his own attire, “well, look at this rubbish. I’m gonna change.”

“Harry, no!”

“Just give me five minutes. You can wait in the car,” Harry gestured as he turned for the hotel.

“Harry!” Amber grabbed his arm, laughing. “Be serious! You look great. I might be a little overdressed. I just…don’t get out much.”

Harry chuckled at her remark as he rolled his eyes. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind? You probably wanna look inconspicuous anyway, right? Just…c’mon. Let’s go.”

Turning for the car, she noticed the back door was already open. She slid into the seat, all the way to the left side to allow Harry room. When he climbed in next to her, he sat back and breathed a sigh.

“So, do you go to museums a lot when you’re on tour?” Amber asked, trying to lighten the mood as the driver turned onto the street.

“Oh. Yeah. I mean, as often as I can. It’s not like…a ritual or anything. It’s just something fun to do on off days.”

“That’s cool,” Amber cleared her throat. “Exactly what kind of museum are we visiting? An art museum?”

“No, not today,” Harry grinned. “I opted for the Museum of Natural Science. I hope that’s okay.”

Amber smiled widely. “That’s actually pretty awesome. I was so afraid you were gonna quiz me on some art I have no clue about.”

With a hearty chuckle, Harry nudged Amber’s arm. “I wouldn’t do that to you, even if we were going to an art museum.”

“Thank God!”

Harry was silent for a moment before he muttered, “You really do look nice today, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Amber could feel herself blushing, but she didn’t try to hide it. “So do you, actually. I hope you didn’t think I-”

Harry held up his hand. “Not at all. It was all me. I just saw you in that lovely dress and regretted my own choice.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

Amber shrugged. “It’s just hard to imagine Harry Styles worrying about the way he looks.”

Harry laughed through his chest as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have nothing to say to that…except…touche.”

When the driver pulled up in front of the museum, Harry stepped out of the car first, then reached for Amber’s hand to help her out. The chivalrous gesture was not lost on Amber, and she may have held onto his hand a little longer than necessary. She didn’t care if he noticed either.

The line for passes was long, but Amber followed Harry to a separate booth that only took a minute. She wasn’t sure if it was some sort of VIP entrance, as she didn’t have time to even look at the sign before Harry guided her to the first hallway to the right.

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve been here before?” she joked when they reached the end of the hall, a sign marking the entrance to the dinosaur exhibit.

Harry smirked, handing her the pamphlet in his hand. “Sorry, love. Here’s the map. They’re pretty much the same everywhere. I just wanted to get out of the lobby as quickly as possible.”

“I guess you do that a lot. It would take some getting used to…for me.”

“Yeah. The trick is to know where you’re going before you get there. If you can plan it out in your head, you’re less likely to be stopped by a fan.”

“Do they tend to surround you?” Amber asked as they strolled along the pathway that led to the first dinosaur skeleton.

“Actually, no. Over the years I think they’ve gotten more respectful of my privacy. They really only seem to stop me on the street or in a restaurant.”

“That can’t be fun. You gotta be able to eat in peace.”

“True. But I think they think of it as a casual place. And they’re not doing it to be malicious. They mean well.”

Amber hummed to herself as she thought of Harry’s words. She still had a lot to learn about fame.

And about Harry.

She’d found over the last several days that she definitely wanted to know more about him. Why was he always so kind, not just to her, but to everybody? She wanted to learn about how he decided to go solo. She was eager to discuss music with him more. And more than anything…even if she felt bad for wanting to…she wanted to know the story behind his previous relationship with Iris. But…as they say, all in due time.

“Ah, the T-Rex,” remarked Harry, interrupting Amber’s thoughts.

“He’s got little arms,” she giggled.

“Hey, don’t make fun.” Harry then bent his arms, his elbows at his chest to imitate the dinosaur, choosing a cartoonish voice. “I might have short arms, but my massive head will eat you whole.”

Amber cackled so loud, a woman in a uniform gave her an evil eye and a “shush”.

“So sorry,” she whispered, her hand over her mouth as she continued to giggle. She turned toward Harry whose grin was so wide, his eyes were almost shut tight. When Amber snorted, he let out a short laugh, catching her as she bumped into him, her head buried in his chest.

“Sorry,” he chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her. “I didn’t mean to make you laugh so hard.”

“Yes, you did,” Amber muttered against his chest as she playfully poked him in his side.

“Shh, c’mon.”

Harry took Amber’s hand and led her through the rest of the exhibit. Amber tried her best to keep her composure, but not just because Harry had made her laugh. He was holding her hand for fuck’s sake. She didn’t want to be rude and pull away. In fact, she was inner-squealing at herself so loudly, she thought for sure he could hear. Even when he would lean forward to read the information of the dinosaur in front of them, her hand remained in his, fitting perfectly - as if it was completely natural.

When they finally left the dinosaur exhibit - which itself had led into the evolution exhibit-, they made a quick stop at the restroom before Harry suggested they check out the mummies. Amber felt a cold chill when they entered the dark room, and she ran her hands down her arms, wishing she was still holding Harry’s hand.

Seeing old Egyptian boxes did not thrill her. The idea that there was an embalmed body inside gave her the creeps. As she stared at a glass case, the chill returned and she looked up to find Harry missing. Freaking out for a second, she hurried through the maze of boxes until she saw Harry standing by a large TV screen, watching a video on mummies. With a loud sigh, she walked up to stand beside him.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re breathing fast like you were just running.”

“Shut up. I don’t do well with dead people.”

“They’re thousands of years old, love. They’re not gonna bother you.”

Harry’s grin was not one of ridicule, but rather one of concern and reassurance. Amber noticed then that the glow of the low light in the room made his green eyes look like an emerald sea. And she wanted nothing more than to swim in them.

Harry must have noticed the hesitation - let’s be real, it was fear - on her face, so he guided her through the exit where they nearly ran into a group of preschool kids. They stood back while their teacher instructed them all to hold hands and walk together. A lump caught in Amber’s throat as she watched the small children. Laci was just about their age. She missed her terribly.

“We’re going to the moon!” a little boy shouted at Harry.

“You are?” he gasped. “Me too!”

The boy giggled, happy at Harry’s reaction. Then he made a motion with his arm, like a rocket ship going up.

“See you up there, buddy,” Harry waved as the line began to move, the little boy acting as the caboose.

“Bye bye!”

“That was so cute!” Amber exclaimed when the kids were out of earshot.

“Yeah, little tykes are adorable.”

“Do you want kids?” She had no idea why she asked that. The words just came from her lips involuntarily. She didn’t even have a chance to roll them around in her brain first. It was like they had intruded her mouth and she just let them fly.

“Of course,” Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “Someday.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a great dad.” What the hell, Amber?

Harry’s lips quirked up, revealing his dimples. “Thanks. Now, what d’you say we break for lunch? Then we can check out the planetarium.”

“Sounds good.” Amber let out a breath, relieved to be dismissed from her vocal faux pas.

There was a queue for the planetarium. But that was to be expected since there were scheduled times, and they only let so many people in. Amber mindlessly chewed on her thumb nail as she watched the screen that changed every couple of minutes with various images of space. Harry was looking down at his phone, his focus clearly elsewhere. Amber wondered if it was Jeff texting him. Or someone else. Not that it mattered. He didn’t have to keep her entertained.

She had enjoyed the day with him so far though, including the creepy mummy display. So far, no one had bothered him, or even seemed to recognize him. The museum wasn’t particularly full of people anyway. It was mostly school field trips, families with small children and the occasional older couple. During lunch, Harry had asked about Mal and if Amber was enjoying having him in her band. She assured him she was, that he was a really great drummer and a nice guy. For only a split second did she even entertain the notion of Carter. It was a fleeting thought that pinched her insides, and she quickly dismissed it. She didn’t miss that asshole at all. Not one little bit.

A voice suddenly came through a speaker overhead, announcing the next planetarium exhibit. Harry shoved his phone in his pocket and wiggled his eyebrows at Amber. God, she loved all his little flirty gestures. Even if he wasn’t intentionally flirting.

Following the line into a large room, Harry gestured to the far end of the auditorium, taking a seat. Amber joined him, sitting down beside him. The room was nice and cool, a calming atmosphere despite the chatter of the other people choosing their spot. Just before the lights lowered and another voice boomed over the speakers, Harry looked at Amber with a gentle grin.

“Is this where we’re supposed to lay back?” she asked in a whisper.

Before Harry could reply, the voice answered for him, instructing everyone to lie back in their seats. Then a low droning sound permeated the room as Amber looked up at the stars.

“Wow!” she breathed.

The voice continued, explaining the galaxy and the milky way. As the image shifted, the solar system came into view. When it shifted again, however, Amber felt a little dizzy.

“You okay?” Harry whispered, catching her holding her stomach.

“Yeah. Just a little queasy. Probably shouldn’t have eaten those french fries.”

“It can be a little disorienting. Close your eyes if you need to.”

“But then I’ll miss it!” she whisper-shouted.

Just as Amber was taking a deep breath, she felt his hand reach over and grab hers. She turned her head in surprise, but Harry only had a calming look on his face, his gaze on her and not on the fake sky.

And that was it. That was the moment Amber decided she liked him as more than a friend. More than a crush, even. Yes, up to that point she had definitely been crushing. She’d wanted to kiss him, and had he let her that night in the bar when she’d been wasted, she definitely would have pursued it further. But even then, it had merely been due to attraction. Now she was catching feelings. Real ones. Just great.

Amber made it through the rest of the show, her hand in Harry’s. About halfway through, she started feeling better, but wasn’t about to let Harry know. It felt too nice to break away.

She did, however, have to break away when the room began to disperse, and Harry announced it was time to go.

“Jeffrey’s been texting me,” he explained. “He needs to discuss something with me when we get back.”

“Jeez, can’t even have a day off,” Amber joked.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Just wait, Amber. He’s probably going a bit easy on you right now, but he’ll have loads of shit for you to do soon enough.”

“Really? Like what?”

“That didn’t come out right,” Harry chuckled. “I don’t mean he’s putting you to work. Just that once he thinks you’re ready, he’ll start setting up interviews and other kinds of promo.”

“Oh. What do you mean when he thinks I’m ready?”

As they stepped outside, the sunshine nearly blinding them, Harry stopped and looked at her. He was sucking in his lips as though he wasn’t sure how to word his thoughts.

“Harry?”

Finally, he ran his ringed fingers through his hair with a sigh.

“Jeffrey’s worried…actually we both are…that you might need some time. Y’know after…Carter…”

“Oh,” Amber frowned, looking at her feet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna say anything. I know you’re still fragile-”

“But I’m not, Harry.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not fragile,” she conveyed, lifting her head. “I’m not some porcelain doll. Please don’t treat me like one.”

“Amber, I-”

“Why can’t I have interviews and do promo? I’m a musician, too. Jeff’s my manager. I should be able to do that.”

Harry sighed. “Yes, you should. And you will. That’s what I was implying.”

“Good,” Amber nodded with narrowed eyes. As they began walking again, she continued. “Also, just so you know, I am way over Carter.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He was a douchebag.”

Harry chuckled. “I’m glad we agree on that.”

“He hurt me.”

Harry was quiet until they reached the car where he turned to Amber with a tight jaw. “I know. And I hate him because of that.”

Amber gave a quivering smile.

“I’m serious. I don’t hate many people. But I swear as fuck, if I ever see him again, I’ll break his God damn arm.”

Jeff was waiting in the hotel lobby when Harry and Amber returned. He sat on a big, brown sofa, talking on his phone. He gave Harry a short nod of his head before hanging up.

“How was the museum?” he asked, addressing Amber with a smile.

“Oh. It was great,” she beamed.

“Good. I’m sorry to cut your day short, I just really need to talk to Harry about a few things.”

“Sure, no problem.” Looking up at Harry, she lightly brushed his arm and said, “Thanks for inviting me. I really enjoyed it.”

“Of course, love, anytime.”

Still smiling, she walked backwards a few steps toward the elevators before turning and pushing the button to her floor. Once she was on the lift, Jeff cleared his throat.

“You two are getting rather chummy.”

“What?”

“Spending a lot of time together, don’t you think?”

“Is that wrong?” Harry raised a brow.

“Only if she’s getting the wrong idea,” remarked his manager.

“Jeffrey…”

“Harry, I’m not gonna control your relationships. God knows I wish I could have controlled the last one. But this girl is-”

“Damaged?”

“Well…yeah.”

“Then how about you help her instead of talking shit about her, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re her manager, for fuck’s sake, mate! Her album is rising on the charts, she’s been on tour with us for nearly two months and you haven’t booked her one fucking interview!”

“I thought we decided she needed time,” said Jeff.

“Well, apparently she doesn’t. She told me today.”

“She told you what, exactly?

“How she’s over the whole Carter incident. And she wants to do promo,” explained Harry.

“She’s over it, huh? You really believe that?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, mate. I just…I don’t wanna see her sad anymore, you know? Give her something to be excited about.”

“She seems pretty excited about you.”

Harry threw his head back with an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, H. I get what you’re saying. I’ll see what I can do to get the ball rolling. Now…I do actually have a few other things I needed to discuss with you. Let’s go to the bar.”

Stepping off the lift, Amber laughed at something Harry had just said. He really liked her laugh. While still girlish, it had a bit of a heartiness to it, like she wasn’t trying to hold back. He appreciated that, and if he was being honest, it stroked his ego a bit. It felt good to make her laugh.

“There you are,” a voice called from near Amber’s door.

“Hi, Jeff,” said Amber, still half laughing. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah, I’ve been calling you. Did you not have your phone?”

Frowning, Amber pulled her cell from her purse. “Sorry. Harry and I were having dinner, so I had it muted.”

“I suppose that’s why he didn’t answer his either,” Jeffrey remarked.

Harry caught the look he gave him too, over Amber’s head. So now, what? He couldn’t even have a quiet dinner with his friend?

“I’m so sorry, Jeff,” Amber muttered again. “What was it you needed?”

“I got a call from Nashville Magazine. Seems they want to do a piece on you, and requested a short interview.”

“W- really?”

“That’s fantastic!” exclaimed Harry.

“Problem is, they wanna do it first thing in the morning,” Jeff added. “We’re not set to arrive until six. So it’s gonna be cutting it close.”

Amber snorted, surprising both men. “Not like I haven’t stayed up all night before.”

“So you’re okay with it?” asked Jeff.

“Are you kidding? My first article! Well…except for that time I was in the Perry Home Journal. I think my mom still has it stuck to her fridge.”

Harry caught the smirk on Amber’s face, and it made his insides flip. Instinctively, he reached his hand out to touch her lower back. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she turned her head to look back at him, giving him a massive grin.

“Alright then,” nodded Jeffrey. “I’ll go return their call and confirm the plans. Then I’ll meet you two backstage.”

“How exciting!” beamed Amber once Jeff was on the lift. “Wait, did you have something to do with this?

“Not directly,” Harry smirked. “But I may have put a bug in Jeffrey’s ear.”

“Well…thank you. Dang. Nashville Magazine. I can’t believe they wanna talk to me.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Your songs are all over the radio now. I think Jeffrey even mentioned one of them being played during an episode of General Hospital.”

“To be honest, I haven’t been paying much attention. Besides the shows, rehearsing, and…well, being with you, I haven’t done much else.”

Harry was quiet while Amber slid her key in the door. Just as she pushed it open, Harry softly said her name.

“Yes?” she turned, holding the door open.

Her full lips were partially open, and just like when he touched her back, Harry felt the urge to touch them. But he restrained himself, holding tight to his belief that it was too soon. Not that she’d been drinking. In fact, he hadn’t seen her take a drink in a while - that evening in his hotel room was the last time he could recall. And they had been hanging out together a lot since then. A lot. Jeffrey hadn’t been wrong with his observation. But still…despite her argument that she wasn’t, she was still fragile. That’s what he’d told himself anyway. He was looking out for her. Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t sneak a drink when he wasn’t around.

Stepping toward her, he placed his palm on the door, relieving hers. “Do you think we spend too much time together?” he asked.

“What? No! Why…why would you ask that?”

“I dunno,” Harry grinned sheepishly. “I was just…wondering.”

Narrowing her eyes, Amber tilted her head. Then stepping into the room, she held the door as she gestured for Harry to enter.

“I’m confused,” she said when she shut the door behind him. “Do you think we spend too much time together?”

Harry looked down at his hands, twisting the ring on his middle finger before looking back up at her. “No.”

“Does Jeff think we do?”

Harry chuckled. “I’m not worried about Jeffrey.”

“But…does he?”

“He might have mentioned it.”

Amber let out an audible sigh as she crossed her arms.

“But listen, this has nothing to do with him,” Harry explained. “I just…was worried that you haven’t had much of a chance to…you know…do your own thing. I mean…if you wanna go off on your own, or spend time alone…”

His words trailed off as he caught the corner of her mouth threatening a grin. Punctuating his comment with a shrug, he decided not to finish his thought. He wasn’t sure where he was going with it anyway.

“Harry…do you like hanging out with me?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Because I love being with you. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But if it makes you uncomfortable…I get it.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well then, that settles it,” Amber smiled, reopening the door. “Now, I should probably shower. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Giving a quick wave, Harry headed for the lift. Though it was a short ride to his floor, he thought about what Amber had just said. She loved being with him. Shaking his head as he stepped onto his floor, he decided not to decipher her comment. Though she could have meant a number of things, he was going to take it to mean exactly what he would have meant had he said it.

He loved being with her. And he couldn’t stop thinking about her when he wasn’t.

taglist: @freedomfireflies, @daphnesutton

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

Also, if you enjoy my writing, please consider joining my Patreon!

5 notes · View notes

taserblade · 2 months ago

Text

went to a hockey game with a friend (who will now be known as mist) today for her bday!!

it was my first hockey game since elementary school, and i honestly had so much fun!! i dont rlly know anything ab hockey, but it seems pretty straight forward. could be how many times ive read the foxhole court. exy is literally a fake sport, but it seems kinda like hockey. maybe its time for a reread.

MAJOR TANGENT!!

omg, talkin ab the foxhole court, god i love that series. i have a music playlist for that series. dude my TRUCK is literally named neil (the main character). i remember reading that book at softball tournaments, praying that my college team would even be a tiny bit like those books. i set myself up. i dont wanna talk ab this anymore.

BACK TO ORIGINAL STORY!!

anyways, all i could think ab the entire time tho were all those smut books ab hockey players (im not immune to the propaganda).

we got margs after the first period, and two were $45?? actual theft. got me decently tipsy, but i have the worlds lowest tolerance so it doesnt take much.

team ended up losing the game, and they played like ass (according to mist, again, i dont know shit ab hockey) so it was kinda a shit bday game for mist :-((

afterwards, we went to a bar n got some drinks while we waited for uber prices to drop. had another wonderful drink, n then hot manager texted us!! he said we arent allowed to go to anymore games, which funnily enough, when me n my sister were younger, we convinced ourselves that if we watched the cowboys they would lose. anyways, it reminded me of that. we joked ab his bday (which i think i know what im getting him now teehee), n then asked for a ride bc uber prices were so fucking high. he was honestly willing to come get us which was so fucking sweet, i love him fr. n then he joked ab me finally getting to go to a sports game this week, and yeah no he isnt wrong. i was happy bf wasnt invited this time.

he told me not to drive home, but bf texted n said he went out drinking with john cena. so i just ended up driving to the bar they were at, n leavin neil there. john cena n a bunch of other friends were there so i ended up havin more drinks :-))

then, omg so fucking weird, this random girl came n sat down with us n said it was her bday n asked us to sing for her?? we did bc we were drunk n why not, n she hung around talkin. after last call we decided to go to waffle house, which i was super excited for bc i had never been. random girl wanted to come so john cena gave her a ride. we all ate, which omg, waffle house is so good. maybe it was bc i was drunk, but the hash browns were actually crispy?? gas. after we ate, john cena offered to give random girl a ride to a homeless shelter.

anyways, that was my night!! very fun, very good time :-))

and dnd session tomorrow at 12!! gotta figure out what food to get.

#blue’s diary #personal #hot manager #omg should i start tagging other characters now??#me thinks i will #john cena #mist #the foxhole court

0 notes

anguishedlurker · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter two coming UP, on Ao3 HERE as well.

So at first she'd lost her new notebook, which was all sorts of awful. She just got that, dammit! And had wrapped something up in record time, too!

She knew she'd left it on her nightstand, she couldn't be convinced otherwise either, but where did it go!? She was gone five fucking minutes!

All that wasted time and effort, with the haunting sense she wasn't alone. And in Amity, that meant so much more than it should!

But whatever. She could deal. Or at least pretend to until she could harass her brother, the most likely culprit for this. She hoped it was burning his eyes, sticky fingered little....

So she'd crawled back into bed and curled up, and set aside the steaming rage to be hashed out at the dinner table over cereal. Mom usually wasn't well humored to her making things public, but dad was still mad enough about the riding lawnmower that he'd be ready to take reasons to pile-drive the no electronics mandate for even longer. Wrong move, turd.

And curled on her side, she fell asleep after some not that set aside rage. The reckoning would be afoot come six am.

But she'd woken up suddenly, or at least... she thought she did. Maybe. Unlikely, now that she thinks about it.

All she'd heard as the folds of her comforter revealed nothing was chuckling, before a voice she felt like she should know spoke.

"Pardon the interruption, but I think this story needs its star actor, yes?"

Suddenly, she was thrown in someone's arms.

Under different circumstances she'd aim towards making fun of their clothes, but, well...

It was undeniably a well put together fantasy costume. The sort of thing she'd pick out for one of the guys, if they'd have the intelligence to get her help for any costume parties.

Though, it was definitely sparking a familiar mental image right now...

Arms were wrapped around her, hoisting her back upwards enough to get her feet under her and peel back from them a little bit.

Which is about where it all made some sense.

His hair was messily styled; the right balance of non effort while still being meticulous to the trained eye. His fur pauldrons framed his startled look as the cape swished back with all the sudden movement.

And above all else, he was holding her...

Officially, pinch her. This was too much to wake up to.

Or not, given the scene...

It was straight out of her notebook. She was the only being in existence that knew what was in there, and this wasn't something her brother could rig up. He'd be a freak to try doing something like this, besides.

It's not like you can slap a white wig on Mikey or Dash and call it good, this was clearly Phantom in front of her, and this simply had to be The Evergreen Field!

Phantom- the prince- shifted from her, looking over her form extremely carefully.

Right, right, it's weird and strange for some random girl to appear and be enthused at him.

Hell, what were his lines? It can't be that hard.

"Ma'dam, I do believe that's a new one." Phantom tittered, just so slightly breathless.

"An entrance for the age. Although... perhaps..." He trailed, shifting his arms up to her hands.

"Lady Manson may well keep the top spot." He clicked, seemingly extremely put off.

That... wasn't it, but it was close enough!

"Oh sir, how curious that makes me of this wild lady Manson!" She quipped, giggling.

Hey, no, wait. She knows that last name. Why's that name in her book?

Maybe... She's read before that the brain will pull from people and things it knows in sleep, so that's gotta be it.

Because if this is real...

Frightening thought..

("I know you can hear me. You wouldn't dare not be listening in to my thoughts if only to make fun of me more. We can discuss this, and come to some sort of peace.")

("Don't you like it, child? She seems so fond of you, it'd be a shame denying her her fantasies!")

("I know you know I know, you're making fun of me and that is bait. Ha ha, make me flip over being the valiant white knight prince in one of your stories, get her outta here you damn creep!)

("Oh child, this one isn't mine. I took the liberty of polishing it up some , but this story is all hers... Won't you make her dreams, her fantasies, come to... such life?"

Smug bastard speaking in riddles, struggling to finish his own goddamn sentences.

Or... No. Wait. This cannot possibly be this straight forward. Oh, what a mess this is!

His tongue was only slightly unstuck though, meaning he was still going to have a very bad time with speaking normally.

But god, her surprised enthusiasm was clearly waning to concern and fear.

""Ma'dam, I do believe that's a new one. An entrance for the age. Although... perhaps... Lady Manson may well keep the top spot."

No, no, no! That should've been ,,I haven't seen an entrance like that since a friend of mine crashed the chandelier into a ball"!!

Not that that was an entrance, but still!

("Unhand my tongue, wretched puppet master.") He spat, cringing as Ghost Writer cackled. Not even his projected thoughts were safe?

"Oh sir, how curious that makes me of this wild lady Manson!" She laughed, bouncing back to enthused and looking at him like there was no danger going on right now. For a split second her smile tightened, but it was gone as fast as it appeared.

"A fair lady friend of mine, who's of no relevance presently. Did the fall hurt?" He pressed, trying to ignore how the words tripped over his lips ever so lamely.

He was super gonna kill Ghost Writer a second time for this one, mark his words!

"Nope! I'm a-okay here, mister Phantom." She grinned, pleased with his attention. Fucks sake…

"Such a fall could certainly harm any-"

"Sheesh, lay off! It was just onto you, sir." She laughed, shoving him lightly and peeling off of him to look at the sunlit field.

She swayed slightly, her own eagerness to stand up properly and keep on staring, thankfully dragging her eyes off of him and looking excited at the damn horse.

This was going to be a big migraine, and it hadn't even really started! The anglerfish would be better right now, at least innocents wouldn't be with him!

("I'm completely innocent of all crimes, and you need to let her go no matter what you think you're going to accomplish.") Danny shot at Ghost Writer, gritting his teeth into the absurd grin Ghost Writer was clearly typing onto him for this.

The clicking of the typewriter halted, Danny's hopes indulging a doomed little dream before whatever overwrought wit Ghost Writer had could be dropped onto him.

("Nah.")

Nah? Just nah? Uncreative much!

The keys resumed, and the smile on his face didn't get to drop as Paulina went and stumbled over her own feet, stand- ("You did NOT give her kitten pumps in a fucking grass field! You did NOT in fact do-")

("What of it, child? Besides, this is her choice! It's what she imagined herself dressed in!") Ghost Writer snapped back instantly at him, the type-writer pausing seconds after as Paulina seemed to freeze on the spot with Danny's hands moving to steady her.

("Why do you know women's heel types, devil child?") Ghost Writer asked.

While he sounded sincere in asking this, Danny didn't trust that information to stay as idle curiosity. His own words could and would be used against them both to who knows what sorts of effects.

"Madam, are you certain you feel alright?" Danny tried pressing, ignoring Ghost Writer with a pointed mental shove between them.

("Suit yourself child. It won't get you out of this to be oh so petulant to me.") Ghost Writer huffed, continuing to write.

"Yup!" She chirped back, smiling like there wasn't a manic reality altering ghost puppeting this whole strange situation.

The horse very conveniently made noise, and Danny faintly wished Sam was here to be a better social example than his pathetic attempts could ever be.

But then there'd be more swearing and violence if she had actually been with him, so maybe it was better in the short term that she wasn't to cause them hell.

"Well my lady, if you insist on your good health then we should be quick to exit this place, before something else happens here." He said, sharply gesturing to the horse.

("I can fly and carry her ya loser.")

("Bold of you to try and debate the horse.")

"Ahh, but we haven't really done... Yeah, sure." Paulina said, cautiously agreeing.

Feet! Lift! From ground! Fly! Fly, goddamnit, fly fly!

“Do what? I find there little to have done.” Danny asked blankly, watching her wobble.

Too many lectures from Sam about the variety of girly shit her mom had tried to put her in left him with far too much knowledge about death traps, formally known as the dreaded high heels, to let him be comfortable with her wobbling around in a grass field. His limbs refused to obey his attempts to reach out to Paulina to help though.

“I find it’s not really important now.” She snipped, approaching the horse to mount it.

To Paulina’s credit she had clearly ridden horses before this weirdo kidnapping, not struggling as Danny looked away.

“You seem embarrassed, my good sir. Why’s that?” She asked, clearly only half serious.

Time ticked slowly as Ghost Writer rewrote his totally witty comeback to her.

“While a pretty dress, I find that they’re bad for hiding a woman's undergarments.” He grit out past Ghost Writers influence.

Paulina slowly turned red and nodded.

(“Is it too crass to say I don’t want to see her underwear in full brazen sight? This horse is absurdly tall compared to us and it’s pretty logical to say.”) Danny pressed Ghost Writer, greatly annoyed.

(“Prince charming cannot say the word panties.”) Ghost Writer staunchly informed him, rude too.

(“Okay. But I wasn’t-”) +

(“Don't lie to me.”)

Danny did not grace that with an answer, watching as Paulina shifted around.

(“Okay, genius, now get me on the horse.”)

(“Can you not ride? I thought that you’ve been on-”)

Danny gave the mental equivalent of a hard stare, not one for this nonsense.

His limbs moving on their own never got any easier than the first instance, the anglerfish a distant memory of a better run in with Ghost Writer.

“Now my lady, might I now ask your name?” Danny asked, letting Ghost Writer take charge.

(“Two ‘now’s? Run out of words?”)

(“Shove it, you brat.”)

Paulina was busy wrapping her arms around his waist as they mocked each other, not yet giving an answer for her name.

“It’s just Paulina, my good sir Phantom.” She muttered through his over fancy clothes, sounding family embarrassed to say it.

“Pretty enough. Prettier most names.” He reassured, making the horse start forth.

“Thank you for your kind words, but I don’t think-” She attempted, squirming as she spoke up.

”Pretty enough to announce to the ball.” He continued, cringing as he realized.

Today was gonna be so, so painful.

I've been Isekaied into Paulina's Novel?!

Welcome to the fic for the EctoImposion 2024 event! I was paired with @thebooo-merang for this wonderful fic, and you should go check them out! And check out the ao3 posting HERE

After an incident with Box Ghost solicits a fight with Ghost Writer, Ghost Writers out for revenge. And Paulina has a convenient little fanfiction that Ghost writer could use. Now Danny just has to survive it, with a starstruck Paulina in tow.

The first chapter doesn't especially need warnings, as everything remains cannon typical. It's under the cut!

"Get back here!" Danny shouted, ready to be done with wit for today.

"I, THE BOOOX GHOOOST, WILL-"

"Piss off Ghost Writer!" Do you just break into random lairs in search of weird boxes!?" Danny screeched, trying to dive after a flying notebook.

"I, THE BOX GHOST, WILL-" Box shouted over Danny, waving wildly as he went and sending even more boxes and books flying back and forth.

"RUIN WHAT LITTLE TRUCE I'VE GOT GOING WITH HIM!" Danny cut back, struggling to grab books mid-air with one arm and blast Boxy into submission with the other.

"THE BOX GHOST HAS NO NEED FOR LECTURES ON YOUR INTERPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS! PREPARE TO BE DESTROYED!"

Danny was gonna kill him this time!

Boxes and books rained over the town, causing havoc and mild property damage to the unprepared. Paulina could only huff and puff as she bolted across the open street from shop to shop, trying to find somewhere to camp out while Phantom dealt with the box menace, trying to keep an eye out for whatever storefront Star had managed to find for herself.

Another keeper kept their shoulder into the door as she pushed, and bitterly she cursed them out. She probably didn't get any sympathetic glances through the wood door, but whatever! Rude ass motherfuckers locking out innocents while there was an attack!

It was tempting to keep under the eave, but beyond being mere cloth too much was getting tossed around- plenty enough room for something to slam in sideways and get her then!

God! One good day is all she wanted right now.

Though a few more after wouldn't go amiss...

There! The geek shit shop was probably going to let her in! Maybe!

She didn't care, actually, she'd punch through the glass if she had to! Take that, losers!

First, she needed the mental psyche up to dart across the road again. Three, two, one, go!

The owner, or possible customer, waved behind the glass as she ran.The door opened and closed near instantaneously on her entry.

The sound of Phantom yelling at The Box Ghost dampened as the bell rang, and the store owner gave her an uneasy smile and gestured towards the windowless back.

“Everyone’s in the back. Might be cramped by now, but there’s a lot of shelves to sit behind.” He nervously informed, eyeing the glass windows.

The casual thumbs up sent him away as she bent slightly to wheeze out the adrenaline.

Yeah, cheer takes some stamina, but adrenaline really messes up her rhythm!

Breath caught, it was time to pack in with the other unlucky idiots back here. With care and precision she marched over behind the popular shelf, examined the bodies packed like sardines, and picked a new shelf to hide behind.

This one was packed with books instead of weird anime figures and dungeons and dragons minis, the spines a cold comfort as she sat down and started staring.

The titles on this sort of crap were so weird…

But she supposed Star seemed to enjoy them, Star's rants echoing clearly in her head.

She wouldn’t admit it with a gun to her head, but after enough of those rants… she may or may not be able to pick out a few of the series on display.

Sue her, she's a sucker for some of the romances even if they were trashy a lot of the time. And Star's collection at this rate was pretty impressive, to the point Paulina was convinced she was the only reason a store like this could keep afloat in a town like Amity.

The other nerd shit probably helped it keep alive, though. More screaming outside, this time sounding like it was from The Box Ghost in rage. Good. Phantom could pummel that no good fool to goo for what it mattered.

... Ugh. The fight could easily take a long time; Box Ghost might be weak, but he clearly had a lot of material to use this time. But whatever. Here she is in a castle of weeb books. Maybe some could be a good distraction.

"No! Not you!"

"Yes, me! Did you think you could trash my library and get away with it!?" Ghost Writer roared, trying to come up from behind.

"It wasn't me, it was-"

But Box Ghost was already gone, the leftover boxes of books now floating to the ground in a suspiciously gentle manner.

Coward. The thought wouldn't leave as Danny shifted the books he'd been trying to save around, awkwardly offering the armful to Ghost Writer.

Ghost Writer loomed ominously.

All at once the outside world went quiet, some shouting occasionally coming close enough to hear, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief loud enough to drag Paulina from her pile of books.

Five more minutes would've been great to finish the book she'd had in hand, not that it mattered...

Now she needed to find where Star ran off to without her, the books carefully left behind in a pile.

Phantom and a ghost she couldn’t recognize quipped back and forth, the day still significantly quieter than it had been fifteen minutes before. The area remained strewn with books, the ghost gesturing to some on a roof.

Now, she could walk around the district lost and confused looking for Star... Or just sit back down on a nice ledge and wait for Star to come to her while watching Phantom.

Phantom made an odd twist in the air as he shouted, still a little too distant to make out properly.

Yeah, watching sounded so much safer and calmer. One hop later and she was perched on top of one of the lower walls purporting to be defensive.

Fat lot of good they did...

Phantom and his assailant came closer, lending her a nice view of what was going on.

Maybe she shouldn't be here, but it seemed to be more arguing than fighting, so whatever.

"While I'm sorry my NOT PARTNER didn't have a spine, you can have yours back!" Phantom shouted as they passed overhead, throwing a book at the weird ghost.

She had to huff out a clipped laugh as the ghost was whacked, even as the ghost elected to bolt as it realized its inferiority.

She could just hear the stunned silence from Phantom, right before he cried out "Get back here!"

Truly, a foolish thing to think it could stand up to the town hero.

With a certain lack of ceremony, the book the from the fight fell onto her

"Ouch!" She yelped, one hand raising to rub her scalp as the other fumbled for the offending book.

The whole thing might be a sign it's time to get up and go. Still...

"Raining books is a new one." She muttered, far too late for the comment to be witty but all the same a perfectly serious remark on the latest weird shit Amity came up with.

She cautiously eyed the book in her hands, looking for any oddities. You could never quite trust some of this stuff...

It was just a notebook. Nothing special about it, besides being a trophy for today. The decoration and signature on front was incomprehensible to her, an initial she didn't recognize against the slightly plain front.

Caving to curiosity, the book opened easily. Not that she’d expected anything else.

It revealed... nothing. Nothing at all. None of the pages had any sort of writing in them.

Well she can't be begrudged for snooping- it's her prize right now. An apology for getting assaulted in broad daylight. This G-W could just deal with it, and the spat was already away from her, so it's not like she was going to be in more danger sitting here.

The blank notebook continued to be uninteresting, and she couldn’t help her annoyance as she shut it. There wasn’t a damn thing to pay her back for getting hit.

Or... well...

She could feel her lip work up into a slight smirk.

I have been wanting to write a new Phantom fic...

The thought was clear as day to her, even as she couldn't wait for the night. What better way to celebrate this particular trophy?

Ghost Writer was forced to watch on in abject misery as he realized his collection had been tossed around like a toddler’s toys. No respect whatsoever from the box obsessed lunatic for the actual contents of the boxes.

The nerve! The audacity! To treat his writing like this! The ghost may well need a lesson in manners.

But first, Phantom.

Sure, the boy wasn't the sole force at work- but undeniably the lunatic never would've gotten close to his manuscripts if Phantom hadn't been snooping around in his library.

But don't think he's lost the plot of getting his own books tossed at him! The tactical retreat was nothing more than an admission of lack of home turf!

Nothing to do with not having his typewriter or any notebooks activated!

Ahem... So the child would need an appropriate punishment as well.

Sometime after he collected his books

The whole lot of them, all across town! Lunatics.

It was easy enough to threaten people away from his scripts, but nonetheless annoying and time consuming. Go here, show up there, yell to get their grubby mitts off his stuff.

Ugh.

The annoyance was the cost of getting everything back. though. He pointedly ignored Phantom’s continued patrolling, likely looking for whatever trap Ghost Writer would end up creating.

Easy enough to stay low and out of sight in the meantime. Whatever he was about to do, it wasn't a ‘now’ plan. Such things take planning, and unfortunately it's not the season to stick the boy back into Christmas stories.

So he was collecting his books, and chasing fools away from them. The cost of love, he supposed.

Still, he was being forced to waste hours upon hours taking his books out of the hands of fools. Having such a collection was not currently a point of pride; He’d have to figure out what went where later.

Slowly but surely his boxes filled back up as he found his manuscripts. There was his old horror story from the eighties, there was his attempt at something akin to a superhero comic, there was his dabbling in... well he couldn't remember either, but if he sat to read it right now it'd take hours for him to finish the book. No reading for him.

Finally, it was time to find his blank notebooks again. He'd be forced to admit that he simply cared less if these ones vanished mysteriously, for a blank notebook was nothing more or less than a possibility.

Most were alright, scattered down the streets carelessly. Some had been picked up and put back down to be examined by wretched hands at a later date.

There was an exception though, something swaying as if held at the edge of where he could feel things. Curious, for how late at night it was getting, but that'd just mean he needed to scare another pathetic mortal off his books.

The pull and search brought him to a cracked window in the suburbs. Nothing meaningful crossed his path, though it was good to be wary; The boy was likely still patrolling, and no doubt Ghost Writer's appearance had put him on edge. As it should.

Slowly rising up to look through, invisible to the mortal eye, he could hear a girl rambling slightly.

His look through the window was enlightening, the girl curled onto her bed as she wrote with ink that even from this distance sparkled with glitter.

"And then Princess Paulina lived happily ever after with Prince Phantom, aaannd the end." She whispered, pleased with herself.

Barely pausing, she snapped the book shut and laid it on her nightstand, moving to stand and stretch.

Shouting called her away, which was plenty convenient for him even as she huffed and puffed out of the room.

It was child's play to take the notebook back, even with it defiled by mortal hands. It wasn't a toy to be left with creatures that didn't understand what could be done with such tools.

The cover had already been decorated with a couple of stickers and a flowing cursive he couldn't bother deciphering at this second.

Phasing back out of the room and coming to rest back outside of the window, he flipped the cover open. The inside was decorated similarly.

Oh, yes. That was glitter pen. The pages were coming away bedazzled with runaway glitter.

This book was most certainly going to have to be put in its own container, but for right this second the name on the inside was of modest curiosity.

Paulina Sanchez in bold strokes, fancy flourishes forgone in favor of legibility. If found, return to owner, do not read.

Well now he just had to, didn't he? It wasn't like the rest of the books were going anywhere, the grand total of three he still had to find now could rest safely.

Or well... No, he could spare the time now> What would the boy do, if it blows up on them both? The books shouldn't even be in the town anyways, and it was most certainly his fault thank you very much!

He quickly leafed through the beginning burning through thanks to his superior-ness and a speed reading class he'd attended before.

... hmm.

Hmmmmm.

He'd recently been complaining about what to do with the boy, no?

"This could work." He spoke to no-one, clapping the book shut. For now.

Barely past sunrise, Danny squinted at the sky and grumbled. Damn malicious blob ghosts, eating billboards.

Not that he cares about the billboards, but first it's a billboard and then it's drywall.

"Catch!" Got shouted, an object (presumably) sailing from behind him.

Snapping too and turning, he could see Ghost Writer grin manically in glee as a book opened wide.

All he could do was choke out an "eh?" as he reflexively reached, the book splayed open and glowing. Illustory pages floated up and off, and he had a really bad feeling about what was coming next as the world around him went white.

Coming to under Ghost Writers writing was not a fun thing to experience, see. One did not simply fade into one of his chaotic and weirdly random worlds. You blink and then suddenly you're just there!

Danny was there, wherever there was. Somewhere was currently a bright grass field, with a decorated horse beside him.

Which he would grant was a better entrance than the last time he'd been flung into one of Ghost Writer's many insane stories.

He would never forget that anglerfish...

But almost just as fast as he got here there was another stupidly bright light, and someone was falling into his arms, briefly bundled into his chest before quickly popping back up to look at him.His tongue was stuck in a way that implied Ghost Writer had ideas about what he should or shouldn't be saying at this time, but that didn't stop the extremely strained noise he gave when he realized the person was Paulina, looking VERY enthused.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #paulina sanchez #ghost writer (danny phantom)#fanfiction #long #ectoimplosion2024 #isekai #transported into another world

41 notes · View notes