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justagalwhowrites · 7 months ago

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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

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kinardsevan · 1 month ago

Note

Ngl, I was so optimistic after last episode but the newest OS interview dumped my mood af… do you think there’s still hope for BuckTommy ending up together?

I’m gonna say the same thing I’ve been saying for months: yall gotta stop reading so much into those interviews. Oliver quite literally cannot tell you that a reunion is coming. In terms of storytelling, that would be such a major spoiler that it would defeat the purpose of bothering to tell it at all.

They are so limited on what they can actually say versus what they can’t, and I have also done myself the favor of not reading most of the interviews anyway. The video ones where we can hear context? Sure. Because tone of voice does a LOT for understanding what someone is saying. The only one I watched this week was the one in which Oli stated that Buck has both personal and professional hurdles to overcome in the coming weeks.

Realistically, we’ve just opened the door for bucktommy again. The fight we all so desperately want still needs to happen. They still need to hash things out. They both presented themselves at that bar as having gotten on with their lives just fine, when we know the reality of it (for Buck at least and I’m sure also Tommy) is not the case. Literally one episode previous to this one, he was saying to Eddie that everything was right in his world until he and Tommy broke up.

I will also specify (because I’m assuming this is the interview you’re referring to based on the one quote I’ve seen), where some people are taking his “I don’t know, I don’t think so” as he’s not still in the same place, I read it as, he hasn’t moved on. You can still very much be in the same place emotionally about someone but believe they aren’t coming back to you/that things are over. That doesn’t actually mean that they are.

We know that 814/15 is coming. I know some people are assuming LFJr is only going to be in one of the episodes. I’ve assumed he’s going to be in both, in some form or another. And given the assumption that the story is going to be based on Birds of Prey, my own inclination is to believe that they’re using these episodes as a soft launch of “if we give this character more of a story, will people care?”. We, the bucktommy fandom, have wanted him to stick around for a while now, but from a storytelling standpoint, all TM&Co know is that when they broke up, it upset the fandom and GA alike. In a perfect world with endless money and time, the answer would be just to make more space on the show to tell Tommy’s story. But I think the latter half of this season really has to go to the point of showing their work and being able to go back to the network and say “this is the impact if we give him a bigger role”, regardless of whether RG stays or goes after this season.

Beyond that, I’ve personally questioned if we won’t see some form of (at the very least Maddie) Evan’s people kinda giving Tommy the cold shoulder for how he ended things. I don’t think it’s lost on anyone that Evan isn’t over him, and how much the break up hurt him. But I could very much see the narrative as “you left and hurt him needlessly” without the full context of the fact that while we know they love each other and want a future together, we don’t know that anyone else does because we haven’t seen Evan actually tell anyone about the context of the breakup. I’ve also wondered if we won’t see some version of Maddie seeing Tommy and coming to that conclusion herself, and that softening the edges a little.

Another thing I’ve wondered about, especially as we’re moving into the latter half of the season, is if we aren’t moving towards a version of events where Evan finally tells people he gets to make his own decisions, and maybe even tells the team off a little for checking out on Tommy. They’re all supposed to be his friends, right? And yet we know Eddie stopped calling him. I get the whole “Eddie was busy, had stuff going on” of it all… except we know that Evan wasn’t doing well following the break up and er can infer Tommy wasn’t with his “resisting the urge to call”… and you’re telling me Eddie could send a text? When we know for a fact that even Tommy was thinking about texting Evan, but was likely too scared? It says to me even more that the only time Eddie cares about a friendship is when he can gain something out of it.

Ultimately, I don’t actually know how we get to the reconciliation, but I have zero issue in believing it’s coming. I’ve watched way too many romcoms, procedurals, and second season breakup stories to know how this ends. And it doesn’t end with Tommy walking off our screens single. Yall have to let the story continue to be told. Everyone thought after 806 that these two were dead in the water, and yet Lou was back in 811.

Let it simmer and marinate. We’ll get there.

#bucktommy #tevan #mel's musings #sloth thoughts #anon ask #911 spec #my theories #my spec #911 discourse #oliver stark #Tommy Kinard #evan buckley

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epletsplayhouse · 1 month ago

Text

Author’s Note: FINALLY! 😂❤️ Sorry if this episode feels a bit unnecessary, I’m just laying the groundwork for what’s coming next 😏

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: SMUT!! Minors DNI. Fluff, Angst, swearing, violence.

Dontcha’ think It’s time

Part 5 (Part 4 here)

“Oh, honey, that day in Beverly Hills…” Joe's voice trailed off, a little wistful, as the memory flickered back. “It was pouring buckets…”

Three days had slipped by since then. Three quiet, lonely days. Three days where you’d put everything you’d been taught into action like taking charge, standing tall, believing in yourself… only to find it didn’t quite pan out the way you’d hoped.

Things with Elvis were… fine. Steady, nothing more. The tension had fizzled out, the confusion cleared up, and he seemed downright chipper. Like a regular uncle doting on his niece, all easy smiles and no complications.

Jerry though, he’d turned into a ghost. Ever since that day, he’d been dodging you like you were contagious. No chance to corner him, no moment to hash it out, just distance.

“…and then, outta nowhere, we saw this car just gliding by, driverless, swept right along by the current. Elvis couldn’t stop cracking up,” Joe recounted half-heartedly. Joe, now stuck babysitting you in Jerry’s place, was hunched over the pool table, battling that stubborn black 8-ball after what felt like forever.

You weren’t really listening. Joe was a sweetheart: warm, polite, the kind of guy who’d hold the door open without a second thought. But he wasn’t Jerry.

“You like catfish?” Joe’s voice broke through your haze.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you mumbled, lifting your head from where it’d been propped on your hand, barely tuned into his war stories.

A rumble of noise started up in the distance, and then the door burst open. Sonny swaggered in first, followed by Red, Charlie, Marty, and yep, Jerry, who wouldn’t even glance your way.

“Lord almighty, I’ve got gold confetti in places I didn’t know I had,” Charlie griped, brushing at his shirt as if it’d personally offended him.

“I need six showers and a priest,” Red shot back, dripping with sweat. “Smellin’ this bad’s gotta be a sin, and this heat ain’t helping one bit.”

Sonny groaned, pressing a hand to his lower back like an old war hero. “Well, it’s all worth it if you get the best party ever, sugar. Just don’t forget to hook us all up with spa vouchers as a thank-you—my back’s screaming after hauling all that furniture.”

You flashed a big, grateful smile. “Thanks, guys. Seriously, you didn’t have to go all out like this.”

Sonny collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic huff, rubbing his back.

Red stretched “And somebody pin a medal on Jerry. He’s been bustin’ his hump.”

Jerry’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing into slits.

Red plowed right ahead. “Sweatin’ like a pig, luggin’ chairs, volunteering for every damn thing. Hah, he’s praying we’ll all forget that little show he put on.”

Marty leaned in, grinning. “Man’s been struttin’ around like he got caught in church with his zipper down.”

Sonny grabbed his chest and belted out, “Caught in a trap—!”

Charlie joined in, low and dry: “I can’t walk out—”

Red spun toward you, pointing with a wild eyebrow wiggle as he crooned, “Because I loooove you too much, baby!”

You slapped both hands over your face. “Oh my God, you’re all ridiculous…”

Joe blinked, totally lost. “Uh… what’d I miss?”

Sonny waved him off. “Nothin’ worth stayin’ up for.”

Jerry’s glare could’ve torched Red on the spot. “You for real?”

Red threw his hands up, smirking like the devil. “Hey, don’t hate me. I wasn’t the one who left the door wide open beggin’ for a crowd.”

Yep. Red the loudmouth made damn sure everyone knew what happened.

You groaned louder, voice muffled. “Hi, still here, you heathens!”

Sonny’s grin widened. “Oh, we know, sweetheart. That’s why it’s a blast.”

Jerry scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering curses under his breath, done with the circus.

Joe let out a little huff. “You’re all a bunch of kids.”

A beat of silence hung in the air until Charlie coughed, fishing for a subject change.

“Well, Jerry’s not the only one actin’ off. You noticed Elvis lately?”

Joe blinked. “Elvis?”

“Yeah,” Charlie muttered. “Shot down another girl last night.”

Joe’s eyes widened. “Another one? That’s four now.”

Red nodded. “And he’s not even flirting. Just… nope. ‘Thanks but no thanks, darlin’,’ and poof. He’s gone.”

Sonny’s eyes narrowed, a sly glint sparking. “That only means one thing… he’s already got someone.”

The words spun in your head, each one a fresh wound. Elvis had someone else and it wasn’t you. All his kindness, his lessons… was it just pity? Your throat burned.

“Who got someone?” Elvis’s voice cut through like a whip as he strode in, Lisa perched on his shoulders, sipping from a juice box. Her little legs dangled against his chest, and she waved at you with a sticky smile.

Sonny stumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, nobody, E! Just… y’know, talking about the party.”

“Yeah!” Charlie jumped in, too fast. “Guests, who’s bringing who, her ex…!”

“Yeah, her ex!” Joe blurted, straightening up from the pool table, gripping his cue tight. The room froze, every eye snapping at you.

The silence shattered as the guys exploded into a mess of voices.

Sonny turned to you, jabbing a finger your way. “Exactly! You gotta play this one smart.”

“Play it?!” Red barked, jumping to his feet, chair scraping back. “She doesn’t have to play anything! Self-defense, that’s what! If that punk shows up causing trouble—” He mimed a sharp knee to the groin, grunting, hands flexing awkwardly. “Y’know… there’s kids here, I can’t really—”

“Ahhh, I got it! Kick in the wiener!” Lisa shouted, bouncing and clapping her sticky hands.

“LISA!” Elvis scolded her, lifting her off his shoulders with a swift scoop, setting her down gently.

“What? Uncle Red always says it” Lisa said, tilting her head, puzzled, clutching her juice box.

You blinked, dazed “I… what?”

In the middle of it all, Elvis quietly sat down, adjusting his rings as he scanned the room. His gaze passed over everyone, taking in the scene with amusement and disbelief.

“Damn lazy bastards” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing as he noticed that every single seat had been claimed. Then he glanced at you, still standing awkwardly in the middle of it all, shifting from foot to foot.

“You can sit on my lap, honey,” he said casually, patting his thigh. “Ain’t gonna bite.”

You blinked, surprised, but he was already leaning back, arms stretched across the backrest like nothing was out of the ordinary. Reluctantly, you perched on his lap.

And that was the first time in three days that Jerry looked at you. Right then. At that exact moment.

“No, no, no!” Sonny, meanwhile, elbowed Red hard out of the way and kept going, stepping forward with purpose.

“This is about showin’ him what he lost! You gotta walk in like—” He puffed out his chest, stuck out his butt, and strutted across the room, hips swaying wildly like a deranged runway model.

“See? Make him regret every damn second!”

The guys roared with laughter. Red, quick as lightning, stuck out his foot with a sly grin, and Sonny tripped, crashing to the floor with a yelp, arms flailing.

Lisa squealed with delight, clapping her hands, juice splashing. “Again, Uncle Sonny! Again!”

“Moron” Red muttered, smirking, leaning back against the wall as Sonny scrambled back up, rubbing his back with a grimace.

Elvis’s leg started bouncing beneath you, just a little twitch at first, nothing big, just that familiar nervous habit he had whenever the guys got rowdy. You felt a quiet laugh rumble through him, soft and easy, the sound humming from his chest into your back. But then it didn’t stop. That small jitter turned into something more, a steady rhythm that lifted you with every bounce.

You went still.

It was subtle, but it was enough to spark a weird warmth creeping up between your legs. It caught you off guard, this feeling you didn’t quite recognize. Each shift of his thigh pressed into you, solid and unrelenting, hitting just the right place. Your breath hitched. You squirmed a bit, hoping to shake it off, but that only made it worse.

Does he know? Is he doing this on purpose?

You stole a glance at Elvis, but his eyes were glued straight ahead, locked on the mess of loud advice and dumb antics from the guys. He didn’t even flicker your way.

Still, his leg kept bouncing.

Your face burned, and your chest felt tight. That heat wasn’t just heat anymore. It sank deeper, twisting into a heavy, sweet ache in your gut. You gripped your skirt hard, bunching the fabric in your fists, trying to sit there like nothing was happening like you weren’t coming apart inside.

Then, just as the pressure built, his leg stopped.

“You okay, honey?” His voice cut through your thoughts, low and gentle, as he tilted his head slightly toward you. His eyes flicked over, assuming you were just uncomfortable.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, nodding too fast, your face burning. You couldn’t meet his gaze.

What had just happened?

Joe shook his head, leaning on the pool table, cue resting across his shoulders. “Y’all are insane. Just talk to him. Be nice. Tell him you’re sorry it didn’t work out. You can still be friends. No need for all this.”

The room booed him playfully. “Come on, Joe!” Charlie shouted. “You’re too soft, man! You gotta go in for the kill, play dirty!”

Marty smirked, arms crossed tight over his chest. “Make him jealous. Grab some guy and let him see you laughing, touching his arm. Works every time.”

Red couldn’t help himself. He grinned and said, casting a look at Jerry, “Any Romeo wanna volunteer?”

“Enough!” Jerry’s voice sliced through the noise, firm and calm. He stepped forward from the doorway, hands dropping to his sides, shoulders squaring. “Look, she doesn’t need tricks, or kicks, or whatever Sonny’s been smoking. Just be yourself tomorrow. Walk in with your head high and show him you’re fine without him. That’s it.” He looked at you, deeper this time.

The room went quiet, the guys exchanging glances. Elvis nodded slowly, looking at you. “Jerry’s right, sugar. You don’t gotta twist yourself up for anybody. You’re enough.”

You forced a smile.

Red leaned toward you, eyes wide as plates. “Hold on a second….” You panicked, maybe he noticed your flushed cheeks.

“Did your ex confirm he’s coming tomorrow or not?”

You shrank, your voice barely a whisper. “I… I don’t know yet.”

Red jumped up, boots thumping loudly, and grabbed the phone from the corner, shoving it at you, the cord whipping through the air. “Then call him now! Let’s sort this mess out!”

The whole room froze for a moment, staring at you. Things were about to get intense.

You took the phone, hands trembling, dialling slowly. Each ring jolted you, and when his voice growled

“Yeah?” it knocked the breath out of you.

Rough, that bad-boy tone that had once held you in his grip. Your stomach flipped, old submission crawling over your skin, his grin, that edge.

Behind you, Elvis exhaled sharply. His hands gripped the arms of the couch just slightly, watching you.

“It’s me…” you murmured, voice tiny, shrinking under their stares. “Are you coming to the party tomorrow?”

A dry laugh. “Graceland? Do you think I’m that dumb? Alright, I’ll go…but if you’re screwing with me, babe, I’ll smash your little party.”

“Y-Yes, it’s real,” you stammered, heart pounding, his voice ripping open old memories. “So… you’re coming?”

“Yeah. Don’t fuck with me.” He hung up.

You lowered the phone, shaken, dodging the venom he’d left. “He said yes,” you whispered, eyes down, cheeks burning.

Elvis caught the tremble, the flush. Still tied to that bastard? He thought. But he said nothing.

“Yes?!” Red roared, flailing his arms.

“Hide the pretty girls, he’s coming to raid the henhouse!”

Sonny leapt.

“This is war, boys! To arms!”

“Let’s piss in his beer! Give him Graceland’s warm welcome!” Charlie shrieked.

Marty cackled.

“Girl, he’s gonna propose the minute he sees who’s your uncle!”

Elvis shot Marty a look. The comment was so stupid he couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh

You squirmed, voice faint, “He just… said he’d come” sidestepping the sting, nerves buzzing.

Joe suggested, “We need a cage…!” Lisa clapped her sticky hands, “Clowns!”

Jerry groaned, “Idiots…”

Elvis sighed and then said, “Well, there’s still a lot to finish. Get to work, boys.” He gave you a small pat on the back, which made you jump and quickly climb down from his leg.

Elvis stood up and extended his hand to Lisa, who grabbed it with her tiny hand and followed his steps.

One by one, they all headed out, making a racket. Jerry was going to be the last to leave, but you weren’t about to let him slip through that door so easily.

“Jerry.”

He paused, his back still to you. A slow exhale left him before he turned around, eyes meeting yours. For a second, neither of you said a word.

“You okay?” he asked, quieter now. “You don’t have to pretend, y’know. Not with me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

His jaw tensed, and you watched him hesitate. Like the truth had started crawling too close to the surface.

“You’ve been dodging me” you said, stepping closer, voice firm but soft. “Since that day. You can barely look at me.”

Jerry ran a hand down his face, the guilt written all over it. “It’s better this way.”

“Why?” you asked, brow knitting. “Because of what happened?”

He sighed and looked around, checking if the walls could hear. Then his voice dropped lower, rougher. “This whole damn house knows already. And if Elvis finds out…”

His words trailed off, heavy with the weight of what he wasn’t saying. You waited, and finally, he looked you dead in the eye.

“This life, this job, it’s everything I’ve got. And you…” he swallowed “You’re family to him. You’re not someone I can mess around with. If anybody touches what Elvis considers his…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

You blinked. “What Elvis considers his?” The words tasted strange coming out of your mouth.

Jerry’s eyes dropped. Avoiding the question.

You stared at him, heartbeat unsteady.

He shifted his weight. “What happened that day… it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let it happen. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. Hell, I care too much.”

His voice had softened by the end, a small, honest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You felt the tension crack just slightly.

“I miss my old bodyguard,” you said quietly. “The new one’s kind of…”

Jerry lifted an eyebrow. “Say it. Boring, right?”

A genuine laugh burst from your chest, relieved. He cracked a grin, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled up at him, and for a brief second, the air between you felt lighter. Complicated, yes. But lighter.

———————-

As the guys put the last touches on the party preparations, Jerry was leaning beside Lisa’s swing in the garden, hands buried deep in his pockets, sweat trickling down his back. Elvis moved like a shadow, crossing the garden silently before slipping into Vernon’s office. When Jerry saw him, Elvis gestured for him to come inside.

As Jerry entered, he saw Elvis behind the desk. His body was tense, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes were locked on Jerry.

“Close the damn door,” Elvis growled, his voice low and rough, laced with threat.

Jerry hesitated a moment, and closed the door.

Elvis didn’t flinch. His stare cut into Jerry.

“You gonna tell me what the hell happened in that room?”

There it was.

Jerry’s throat tightened, dry as ash.

“Why, if you already know?”

“I wanna hear it straight outta your damn mouth” Elvis snapped, his words sharp and cutting. The calm was a lie, unraveling fast, exposing the raw rage burning beneath.

Jerry braced himself, voice steady but tense.

“Nothing happened. Seriously.”

A vein pulsed in Elvis’s neck.

“Funny. Red says it was a damn show” He dropped his arms and stalked forward. “Ya gonna stand there and lie to my face?”

Jerry clenched his jaw.

“Red’s just running his mouth, and you know it. He’s blowing it up for laughs.”

Elvis’s eyes flared, dark and furious. He lunged forward, closing the gap in a second, so close Jerry could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Jer! I ain’t playin’! You were in there with her. Alone. Her grinding on you. You think I’m fuckin’ blind? You think I don’t hear the shit going around?” His voice roared, raw and merciless. “What the hell were you doing with her?”

Jerry didn’t back down. He met Elvis’s stare head-on.

“She asked me, alright? She wanted to learn, and said she was tired of being the only one who didn’t get the looks or the whispers. I was just there in the moment, man. She dragged me in, literally!”

Elvis curled his lip into a sneer, fists clenched tight.

“You expect me to buy that crap?” He jabbed a finger into Jerry’s chest, sharp and accusing. “You s’posed to be lookin’ out for her, not takin’ advantage of her.”

“It’s the truth!” Jerry shouted, slapping Elvis’s hand away with a sharp crack. “She found a damn magazine, started asking things I didn’t wanna touch, and she wanted to learn how to kiss.”

“Kiss,” Elvis spat, his voice dripping venom. He surged forward again, towering over Jerry, breath hot and ragged. “So you decided to be her goddamn teacher? Show her how a man screws?”

“No!” Jerry’s yell cut the room, stopping Elvis cold. “It wasn’t like that! You really think I’d betray you like that? Cross that line?”

Elvis’s laugh was a guttural growl. He grabbed Jerry’s shirt in both fists, yanking him forward so hard their noses nearly collided.

“You were on top of her, Jer! Red saw it, the whole damn house is whispering that behind my back” He shoved Jerry hard, slamming him against the wall with a thud that rattled the frame. “Did you fuck her, you son of a bitch?”

The words exploded, crude and savage, hanging in the air like a live grenade. Jerry’s eyes widened, shock flashing to fury. He shoved Elvis off with all his strength, breaking free.

“Are you fuckin’ insane?!” Jerry roared, voice hoarse with rage. “For God’s sake, Elvis, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

Elvis’s chest heaved, fists trembling, his face twisted in rage… and something deeper, something broken.

“Then what the fuck were you doing?”

“Stopping her!” Jerry barked, stepping forward, face-to-face with Elvis. “Can’t you see I’ve been avoiding her? You think this doesn’t make me uncomfortable? Your damn jealousy’s blinding you, man.”

Elvis’s nostrils flared, his voice dropping to a guttural hiss.

“It ain’t jealousy, Jer. It’s not that. She’s my niece, goddammit.”

Jerry exhaled sharply, shook his head, his tone softer but firm.

“Really, man? You know what the first thing she asked me was when she pulled me in there? ‘What the hell was Elvis doing last night?’”

Elvis froze, his eyes flickering. The rage began to give way to doubt. He ran a hand over his mouth and let out a rough breath.

“She’s in love with you,” he muttered, quieter now, the words bitter in his mouth. “She told me herself.”

Jerry’s face softened, the fight starting to fade.

“Man, you’re unbelievable…” he scoffed and stepped back, arms falling to his sides. “She’s not in love with me. I mean it.”

Elvis’s gaze dimmed, the fire in his eyes dying as he leaned back against the desk, rubbing his neck.

“She told me to my face,” he grumbled, no strength behind it. “She’s an innocent girl. I just… I just don’t want her getting hurt.”

Jerry nodded slowly, stepping closer, voice calmer now.

“I get it, E. She’s safe with me. I messed up letting things go that far today. I should’ve walked out sooner. I’m sorry, man.”

Elvis looked up, his eyes tired but clearer. He gave a slow, reluctant nod.

“Yeah, well… next time keep your ass away from her. Or I’ll break your goddamn neck.”

Jerry gave a small smile, the tension between them starting to unravel.

“I’ll leave after the party if it’ll make you feel better. But one thing, are you gonna keep hiding behind the ‘she’s my niece’ card?”

Elvis snorted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Shut up, Jer. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Jerry chuckled as he turned to the door. Then, suddenly, the sky started clouding over. He saw it through the window.

“Shit, we gotta bring in some stuff for the party again. It might get wet,” Jerry said.

“I’ll help you out” Elvis replied.

Elvis hustled, hauling party supplies inside as rain started pelting down, barking quick orders at the guys. Jerry trailed behind, their earlier talk still hanging heavy between them. Elvis shoved it down, focusing on the boxes, the noise, anything but that. Thunder rumbled, matching the churn in his gut, but they kept moving, no hesitation.

————————-

The summer storm roared outside through the night, rain drumming relentlessly on the roof. You were drowsy in your room when a cold drop splashed your cheek, then another. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, as water seeped through the ceiling, soaking the bed.

“Great…” you muttered sarcastically, shoving the wet blanket aside. You grabbed a sweater, slipped it over your thin nightshirt, and padded barefoot down the hall toward Elvis’s room.

You hesitated, then knocked. Once, twice. Nothing.

“Elvis?” you called softly, voice wavering. Silence.

Carefully, you opened the door and stepped inside.

The room felt humid, warm, steeped in a soapy scent. Steam wafted from the cracked bathroom door. Elvis stood there, fresh from the shower, a towel loosely knotted around his waist.

Your breath lodged in your throat, a faint gasp you prayed he didn’t catch. You’d never seen anything like it.

He was dazzling, unreal, almost overwhelming. Water shimmered on his skin, sliding down the broad curve of his shoulders, tracing the chiseled planes of his chest where soft light brown hair trapped the droplets. The towel hung low, barely holding on, hugging the sharp line of his hips and hinting at the power beneath. His wet hair fell in messy strands across his forehead, framing those deep, calm eyes, and his skin glowed warm and golden, still flushed and mosturized from the hot water. Every move radiated a raw, natural sensuality that set your pulse racing and knotted your stomach tight.

He looked up, unbothered, flashing a smile. “Hey, honey. What’s up?”

You blinked, fumbling for words. “Uh… my room’s got a leak. Water’s dripping from the ceiling.”

He frowned, scratching his jaw. “Damn. This storm’s making a mess. I’ll wake the guys.”

“No, don’t,” you said quickly, stepping forward. “They must be exhausted from setting up the party. Let them rest.”

He paused, then nodded. “You’re right. Stay here, darlin’. Ain’t no trouble at all.”

You sat on the edge of the bed. He ambled over and dropped down beside you, like it was the most ordinary thing. He slung an arm around your shoulders, giving you a light squeeze, and you caught his aftershave, bold and woody, blending with the crisp, minty freshness of his breath, straight from brushing his teeth. It hit you like a wave, a jolt to your senses that prickled your skin and sent your heart pounding. He was so near, so exposed… yet he didn’t notice. Didn’t feel the heat flooding through you.

“Don’t ya worry about a thing, okay?” he said, voice gentle and steady. “I’ll sleep on that couch over there if it makes you more comfortable.” He nodded toward the corner, still completely oblivious to how his closeness stirred you.

You nodded, throat tight, sensing the innocence in his words… as family, nothing more.

“I feel bad taking your bed,” you managed, voice small, shifting to your feet.

“Naw, nonsense.” He stood, pulling back the covers for you, then turned with a grin. “Come on honey, get in.”

You slipped under the sheets, and he leaned in close, but easy. Tugging the blanket up to your chin, smoothing it with those big, careful hands. He was hovering over you while tucking you, and though the moment was innocent, your body didn’t know the difference. He gave your shoulder a soft pat, almost fatherly, and straightened up.

“There you go, darlin’. I’m gonna take a look at that leak, alright? You sleep tight.”

He walked out, still in that towel, his footsteps fading into the storm’s growl, leaving you alone in his bed with his scent clinging to the sheets. You pressed your face into the pillow.

You didn’t know why you felt this way, why your skin buzzed, why your emotions churned so close to the surface. Exhaustion finally pulled you under, fast and deep, the storm fading to a distant murmur as sleep claimed you.

After few hours, the door eased open with a sigh. A slow, tantalizing creak, and Elvis slipped back into the room.

You stirred, your dream fading into a haze of heat as he approached barefoot, his steps grazing the carpet with a soft hush.

“Hey, honey,” he purred, his voice a low, velvety growl that slithered down your spine. “Checked that leak. No fixing it ‘til morning.”

He rose over the bed like a silhouette sculpted by lust, the towel slipping just enough to unveil the chiseled ridge of muscle above his hips. A flicker of delicious panic shot through you.

Then he sank onto the mattress, slow and deliberate. The bed groaned under his weight, his bare arm brushing yours, sparking a shiver across your skin. He stretched out beside you, easing into the space, all languid power. He tipped his head back, a rough exhale spilling out “Good night, baby”and shut his eyes.

Your blood ignited, a fierce, unstoppable surge. He was too close, his intoxicating scent flooding you again. You couldn’t hold back. You lunged, your mouth crashing into his. First soft, then ravenous, consuming the swollen heat of his lips, the salty tang of his skin. His eyes flared open, piercing yours with a jolt that pinned you in place.

He didn’t pull away. Didn’t falter. Just stared, chest heaving hard, as you threw a leg over him, straddling his hips like you’d claimed him a thousand times before.

The towel bunched beneath you, loosening, and a wild curiosity blazed to see what lay underneath. Your hips rocked, grinding slow, a husky moan tearing from your throat as his hands clamped onto your waist.

But then he stopped you. His grip tightened, and with a low, primal growl, he flipped you beneath him in one fluid, commanding surge. Pinning you to the mattress, just like Jerry had.

The air rushed from your lungs, his weight a delectable crush. His breath grazed your face, hot and ragged, those eyes boring into yours.

You smiled, a spark of triumph lighting your chest. No fear this time, you owned it. He caught it, a faint smirk curling his lips, and then his voice dropped, rough and slow, a deep drawl that melted you from the inside out: “Time to slip those panties down, darlin’.”

You were sprawled across his bed, lost in his sheets, your thin pajamas clinging to your sweat-damp skin.

Elvis was slumped on the couch across the room, half-dozing, eyes fluttering shut as he shifted, trying to find a spot that didn’t ache on that stiff frame.

Then you gasped.

Low, wet, a sound that tore through the darkness. Your hips rocked slow under the sheets, your fingers clutching the pillow tight.

Elvis’s eyes snapped open, his gaze cutting across the room to land on you. Maybe you were having a nightmare. It couldn’t be anything else, could it?

You let out a soft moan.

His head jerked up then. He started cursing Jerry in his mind. That bastard had planted thoughts in your head he shouldn’t have. You were probably dreaming of his damn kiss with him now.

Your lips parted, and his name slipped out

“Elvis…” a pleading whisper, drenched in desire.

His heart stopped. No way.

His body betrayed him. His erection surged instantly, hardening fast, straining against his pajama pants. He cursed himself under his breath. It’d been a week since his body last reacted like this.

“Elvis…”

Louder now, a broken whimper, your body arching under the sheets.

He was on fire, the heat damn near choking him. She’s dreaming of me.

The thought was like a blade: sharp, burning, slicing him open. His cock throbbed, thick and heavy, and he let out a low groan as he shifted, the fabric grazing his now hypersensitive length.

He couldn’t. Not here. Not with you so close.

He lurched to his feet, legs shaky, throwing you one last glance, biting his lip and bolted from the room.

He stormed into the farthest bathroom upstairs like a gust of wind, slamming the door shut, locking it with trembling hands. His back hit the wall hard, head thrown back, chest heaving wildly. Sweat poured down his face, his neck, his hands shaking at his sides. His cock pulsed, painfully hard, a damp spot blooming on his pants.

“Goddammit” he growled, voice hoarse, shredded. “I can’t… I can’t do this.” But there was no stopping it now.

He loved the way you trusted him, so pure and unshaken. He’d kill for you, and here he was, unraveling because you’d breathed his name in a dream.

His hand moved, uncertain, hating itself. Clumsily, he yanked open his pants, shoving them down just enough. He gripped himself rough and desperate. A hiss escaped through his clenched teeth. It was big, hot in his hand, veins pulsing under his fingers, and he stroked once, slow, punishing. Groaning low as your voice echoed in his head again.

He lost it. His hand sped up, slick with sweat, each pump a betrayal. The other braced against the sink, nails scraping the edge, and he pictured you splayed out in his bed, skin flushed, calling for him. His balls tightened, breath jagged, and he came hard. Thick spurts hit the floor, a choked “Fuck” ripping from his chest. His knees buckled, body quaking through it, the pleasure so fierce it stung.

Then the crash.

Guilt slammed into him, raw and savage, a fist to the gut. He crumpled to the floor, pants still open, cum drying on his hand, the cold tiles biting his knees. His chest heaved, sobs catching in his throat in half shame, half a love so deep it wouldn’t let him breathe.

“You filthy piece of shit” he whispered, voice cracking, smashing his fist into the wall. “She’s an angel, and you’re jerkin’ off like some dog ‘cause she trusts you enough to sleep in your bed.”

He raked a hand through his hair, yanking hard, tears scorching his eyes. What would people say if this got out? The family would kill him.

He hated not being free, hated being under everyone’s microscope. Hated this feeling, hated the sticky sinful mess on his skin. She mattered too much for this. Too much for him to deserve her.

He dragged himself to the sink, splashing water on his face ‘til it burned. His hollow reflection stared back, a man who’d lost the fight.

This won’t happen again, he vowed silently. Whatever it took.

Part 6!

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @iloveelvisss @makethemorning @i-r-i-n-a-a @kawaiiwitchy @beaupr3sley ❤️

#elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis the king #elvis history #elvis the pelvis #70s elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis angst #elvis and me #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #austin elvis imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 1 year ago

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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

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puppetwoman17 · 1 year ago

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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

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hainethehero · 1 year ago

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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😭💀.

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dec4podcast · 2 months ago

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Our leading contributor, Gary Wells, joins us to explore two tumultuous decades in the lives of the Beach Boys, through the lens of Malcolm Leo’s 1985 BAFTA nominated biographical documentary, The Beach Boys: An American Band.

We learn about some of the key people on both sides of the camera, and of Malcolm Leo’s established method of sourcing a wide variety of music and interview clips (long before the easy accessibility of digital archives) to create an intimate, first-person narrative.

The Beach Boys: An American Band is a fan’s movie; if you already love the Beach Boys, you’ll love them even more after immersing yourself in this documentary. If you’re just starting out on a journey of discovery learning about the Beach Boys and their impact on 20th century music and culture, this is a wholly enjoyable place to begin. But, it’s worth noting that it was far from the complete story even then, and there have been 40 more years of eventful Beach Boys history since.

Image credit: Malcolm Leo's official site

The evolving story is told through a compilation of music and interview clips by the Beach Boys themselves, including Brian, who is candid about his drug and mental health issues.

This aspect of Beach Boys history impacted the final edit, as Malcolm Leo explained in a 2003 interview with Nat Segaloff;

"…I thought I had (right of final cut) in writing…There was something they asked me to take out: Brian Wilson was very open about his personal dilemma with drugs and wanted the whole story to be told straight, without pulling any punches. There was a line when he said, “I was smoking hash in the studio and so were the boys,” and one of the other Beach Boys said, “You gotta take out ‘so were the boys.'” And I did…"

We hear from Brian’s high school music teacher (Fred Morgan), who confesses to giving Surfin’ an F when submitted by Brian as a school assignment, but acknowledges that the commercial release made a million dollars. There was an interesting postscript to this in 2018, when Brian returned to Hawthorne High and the mark was upgraded to an A by school principal, Vanessa Landesfeind.

We follow the Beach Boys’ career from early performances of signature hits and their creative growth well beyond car and surf themed party music. We experience close-up their professional slumps and triumphs, and personal crises, and their redemption and acceptance as ‘America’s Band’, a staple of stadium shows and July Fourth celebration concerts in front of huge audiences.

As we point out in the podcast, The Beach Boys: An American Band is a thoroughly enjoyable and enlightening movie, and a great fan experience. If you want to see the best in the Beach Boys, professionally and personally, it’s a perfect way to do it; the evident love and affection between the brothers is endlessly endearing. However, it’s far from the whole story; the true extent of family patriarch Murry Wilson’s behaviour, described by author Timothy White as part of a family (male line) ‘legacy of pain’, is left alone, and there is no mention of Charles Manson and his deeply troubling incursion into the professional and personal lives of the group through Dennis Wilson. Gary argues that some editorial decisions have to be made, and venturing into these highly complex and darker areas would have resulted in a very different movie. Did Malcolm Leo achieve his stated ambition of not creating a ‘puff piece’? I think our conclusion on that was 'yes and no'.

As we come to the end of The Beach Boys: An American Band, and the early 1980s, Gary draws our attention to this comment from a rejuvenated Brian Wilson, speaking at a reception leading up to the Beach Boys headlining what promised to be the biggest ever Fourth of July concert in Washington, with over 500 000 people expected to attend;

“…The family that sings together stays together…we love each other…It’s a time where we need to be strong, and face up to our responsibilities and come through, I mean, we started out as little babies, and we grew up into men, you know, and that’s a dramatic story, it’s the story of the Beach Boys, it’s a very dramatic story…I foresee a good future for us, with a lotta good happy thoughts, and a lotta good times…”

There's a little more at our podcast website, with some links to further reading, viewing and listening;

Special thanks to Gary Wells, and to all our readers and listeners.

#the beach boys #brian wilson #carl wilson #dennis wilson #mike love #al jardine #biography #malcolm leo #the beach boys an american band #music podcast #film talk #surf music'#southern california #podcast #SoundCloud

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assignmentimprobable · 9 months ago

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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

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istherewifiinhell · 9 months ago

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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

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koreandragon · 4 months ago

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alright finished squid game 2. i have some thoughts! like overall i enjoyed it it’s been a hot minute since a drama has made me want to sit down and binge it, im siwan is my baby and i will never complain about seeing wi hajoons hot ass on my screen, but if i wanted to put on my media literacy cap and think critically …

it felt like season 1 had purpose. the critique of capitalism, the desperation of poverty, the enjoyment of suffering for (white) vips, etc etc. whereas this season just felt … tacked on. i also think it suffers the catching fire treatment of rehashing the plot of the first (like literally just repeating the games) like the stakes are lost!! i don’t think there was much development in terms of plot or gihuns character. tbh if i were writing the show, i would have him more suspicious. have him distrust his friend (jaebyung? something like that) bc in s1 of being betrayed by sangwoo. and he toootally should have figured out inho was lying and suspect of another worker being in the games (like the pseudonym was literally 001, i mean cmon).

anyways those are my hashed thoughts! overall i mean yeah i had decent fun, i just don’t think it had much of an impact (whereas survival shows like alice in borderland did WONDERS in terms of developing the plot and message in s2) and it def does feel that the director was made to continue the drama for international popularity.

okay i'm gonna defend it a bit because i think it's a much needed context that they decided to split the second part into s2 and s3 because the episode count would've been too high for one season. this is what hwang dong hyuk said "I originally envisioned seasons 2 and 3 as a single story," he says. "That's how I wrote it. But in the process, it came out to be too many episodes." so i think that's why narratively s2 kind of suffered from being the set up season for the finale. i remember when they ended the finale on that scene and i was kind of confused like ?? that's it?? but it makes sense knowing this

i've seen people say gihun should've been more suspicious but i don't agree, not only because that would've taken the fun out of it (for me at least), i don't think it would've made sense either. like why would he think that the guy with the same player number oh ilnam had would once again be an inside man? inho was doing his best to make himself likeable to the point that i actually started liking him a bit even though i knew who he was. he never did anything to make them doubt his loyalty so even if gihun was suspicious at the start, his suspicions would have been mollified during the course of the games. as for his friend jongbae, i think he was closer to him than sangwoo who he hasn't seen in a while before the start of the games. also you gotta trust some people at least. and it's also important that gihun doesn't become too jaded or loses his faith in humanity as to push everyone else away from him and become paranoid because then the game makers would've broken him. but that's my thoughts!

personally i think they fumbled junho this season, he basically did nothing but float around on a boat the whole time, but all in all i enjoyed it, we had some fun new characters and i think it's leading up to a bigger pay off in s3.

#ask #anonymous

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championofravens · 1 year ago

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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

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 8 months ago

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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

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lemoncrushh · 10 months ago

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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.

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