#I know she’s a 42 year old

[moonahsrobin]

She does not age!

[good-to-drive]

George would have been such a menace if he'd been able to text... texting Tom Petty at 3 am to tell him he's beautiful and leaving Paul on read for days straight

[gobbluthbutagirl]

did i tell you guys that the guy who taught me how to drive was a fucking 75-year-old man who ran a driving school and the day he was supposed to do my test he straight up fucking FORGOT TO COME GET ME and i was just sitting on my dad’s front porch waiting for him for OVER AN HOUR like a BITCH. and i tried calling both numbers i had for him and he didn’t answer and i was too mad to leave a voicemail because i knew i would curse him out. and finally at like 5pm(my test had been scheduled for like 10 or 11 in the morning) he called me and he was like, “oh i’m so sorry holly i had you in my planner but i forgot to put you in my day planner and i didn’t bring my planner with me. can we reschedule?” and i was still so mad about it when i went to work the next day that when my insane ex-coworker justine had one of her usual classic trademark Stupid Idiot Moments i finally snapped and we had our infamous, “you are literally the stupidest person i’ve ever met!” “oh yeah? you think so?” “oh i KNOW so!” “you don’t know me! you don’t know ANYTHING about me!” “i know EVERYTHING about you! you never SHUT THE FUCK UP!” argument that probably would’ve turned physical had our boss not come out and put a stop to it right then. And then the next day i finally got my license but also jessica walter died so every time i look at that damn thing i think about how she’s dead

[theropoda]

dear followers, i'm writing on the behalf of a woman, a sister, a mother, a grandmother, named wafaa who has been speaking to me on tumblr from the dire situation in gaza. i'm here to share her story, her plight with you, her campaign with you so you can help her. her house has been bombed, the place she grew up, her place of work, her husband's place of work has been bombed, where her children grew up, her family (three generations of people, which is 15 people including a newborn infant) doesn't have anywhere to go.

she has already lost precious people in her life, lost precious people who were her world, her sister, her brother's son... she can't bear to lose any more people than she already has! she is already wracked with a grief and sadness i genuinely cannot even begin to comprehend. none of us can. yet she still has hope in god that through us, people across the world, can help her family escape this situation. let us not let her down.

i know you're all struggling with money right now. already struggling with bills and food. but donate what you can afford, still. even if it's just a single dollar! because it all adds up, it all adds up in the end. when wafaa first contacted me i believe her campaign was at around €13,000 out of €50,000, but now it is at €21,465! it all adds up. we can keep this going, with donation matches, by spreading this campaign, sharing even if you can't donate. so please. help her family, with whatever little you can.

(verified by nabulsi)

[yikesforever]

You know I spent years thinking about marrying / fucking Chris Evans. And now the man gets married to someone my age. SIR you did this in ON PURPOSE

[iadoreneteyam]

e!42 miles and his girlfriend going to his family barbecue

e!42 miles who begs his girlfriend’s to match shoes with him

e!42 miles who laughs in his girlfriend’s face when she says she wants to make a good impression on his family and says “why would I give a damn if they like you, mami?”

e!42 miles who makes sure his girlfriend has everything she needs to do her makeup as she sits down at his desk and looks into the led hello kitty mirror he bought her specifically for his house.

e!42 miles with a girlfriend who allows him to do her lipliner

e!42 miles who willingly sits in the backseat with his girlfriend when heading to the barbecue even though the passenger seat nexts to his mom is open

e!42 miles who does everything to annoy his girlfriend in the car.

e!42 miles who falls asleep on his girlfriend and drools but immediately denies that he drooled on her when they arrive at the barbecue

e!42 miles who puts his arm around his girlfriend’s waist to move her away from all his family members crowding him and his mom before leaning into his girlfriend’s ear and whispering “don’t want you to be overwhelmed, mami. my family is a bit of a handful y’know.” and kisses his girlfriend behind her ear before backing off.

e!42 miles who fights the urge to punch his cousin in the face when he hears something along the lines of “yeah, I don’t know how Miles ended up with a girl like that.” Miles heard murmurs agreeing before his cousin continued “wayyyyyy out of his league, man. he doesn’t even know what to do with that.”

e!42 miles and his girlfriend who runs to be the first in line to get barbecue when his older cousin yells that the food is ready only to be pushed aside with his cousin telling them “older men eat first.”

e!42 miles and his girlfriend who finally get their food and make and effort to sit away from his family because he “rather be with you than with them, y’know that mami.”

e!42 miles who refuses to let his girlfriend get herself another drink. “Imma get for ya so tell me what ya want, mami.”

e!42 miles who also refuses to let his girlfriend throw any of her own trash away

e!42 miles who immediately brings his girlfriend inside when she claims “it’s so hot, baby.”

e!42 miles who regrets coming inside because everyone now sees it as their chance to question him about the girl he brought

e!42 miles who is so happy to get away from all the hassling and to sit on the couch with his girlfriend

e!42 miles who smiles when he sees his girlfriend with his seven year old cousin in her lap as she helps her play uno against his mom

e!42 miles who comes over to the three of them and asks “y’all got room for one more?”

e!42 miles who groans after he loses to them twice before rushing his cousin off his girlfriend’s lap so he can pull her closer

e!42 miles who swings his girlfriend’s leg in his lap and asks her if she’s having fun

e!42 miles who silently begs his mom to go home once they hit the five hour mark to which his mom keeps waving him off saying “yeah sweetie let me just finish this conversation.” (they did not leave after that conversation)

e!42 miles and his girlfriend who don’t get to leave the party until it’s dark outside

e!42 miles who sits his girlfriend at his desk chair and grabs makeup wipes to help her take off her makeup

e!42 miles who lets his girlfriend take a shower first when they make it to his house so she can get more rest

e!42 miles who gets out the shower only to see his girlfriend still awake waiting for him

e!42 miles who gets in bed with his girlfriend, kisses her on the lips, and says “what I say about staying awake for me, mami ?”

e!42 miles who fights the pout on his face when his girlfriend tells him that her parents said she has to come home tomorrow

e!42 miles who just can’t sleep knowing his girlfriend is leaving in the morning

e!42 miles who wakes his girlfriend up and says “ya think ya parents will let me stay a couple days?”

e!42 miles who breaks out into a grin when his girlfriend tells him “ if you go get me breakfast in the morning I’ll ask, how’s that sound, baby?”

e!42 miles who kisses his girlfriend goodnight

[yourfavoritehouseplant]

I watched James Somerton's final video, and all I got was this 6 page document

As soon as I learned his final unreleased video was on Revolutionary Girl Utena, I knew I had to hate watch it. I didn't know that I'd spend the following 4 hours making a comprehensive doc on everything I hated about it. But here we are.

The TLDR (is this too long to be a TLDR?)

The intro section, as well as Part 2, are directly plagiarized from wikipedia. The rest is unclear.

He makes a “haha this show is so weird right guys” joke 10 different times

He reads Anthy as so emotionally stunted she literally has to be taught how to think for herself, and believes that being the rose bride makes her feel good

He says that his reading is ‘vastly different” from the rest of the community, before boldly stating that this is because he sees it as a “deeply allegorical and symbolic story”

He sees the sexual abuse as “not to be taken literally”

Insists that the show be separated into parts that are strictly literal and strictly allegorical for the entirety of parts 3 and 4, before making the contradictory move of analyzing characters as allegories during part 5

The only characters that get dedicated sections are Akio and Dios, who he doesn’t believe are the same person. 

He says Dios gets his powers by “deflowering women”

He calls Akio, known child predator, a chaotic bisexual

Uses 14 year old SA survivor Anthy’s passive personality to make a joke about her being a bottom

His final point is that Utena was the real prince all along

There are no citations

Anyway, full version for people who hate themselves under the cut. With time codes, because I cite my sources.

Part 1: Intro

This entire section is almost exclusively quoted from the Wikipedia article for Revolutionary Girl Utena. Words have been changed, but the order at which certain topics come up is not. Highlights include:

0:56 In his introduction of Be-Papas, lists the founding members in literally the exact same order as Wikipedia.

1:40-2:00 His list of Be-Papas previous works is lifted entirely from wikipedia, only with the words changed. This leads to a strange moment at 1:52 where he claims Be-papas ‘lent their talents to’ Neon Genesis Evangelion, a show which started production at least a year before Be-papas was founded. On the wikipedia article for Utena, this is instead referring to the previous work of Shinya Hasegawa and Yōji Enokido

4:23 he uses a quote by Yūichirō Oguro describing the production as a “tug of war”. He seems to have lifted this in its entirety from Wikipedia, as he does not cite the actual source it is from (the box set companion book, btw)

As for James Somerton originals, at 0:44 he claims that out of all magical girl series,”none to my knowledge have been more discussed and dissected than the 1997 series Revolutionary Girl Utena” He will go back on this at 5:05, where he states that “Sailor Moon takes the lion’s share of discussion” in regard to influential magical girl anime

Part 2: Part 1

(At least I know I’m not funny, unlike James Somerton)

Speaking of which. Here is every single time he makes a “wow this show is sooooo weird you guys” joke: 6:00, 8:50, 10:40, 10:58, 13:46, 17:07, 24:16, 30:34, 41:19, 48:01

Here’s every time the punchline to the joke is the existence of Nanami, a character who he otherwise completely disregards: 10:56, 12:05, 16:22, 42:40

6:16 Claims that the “Apocalypse saga” and “Akio Ohtori saga’ are two names for the same several episodes, depending on the release. This is untrue. Instead, different releases either only have the Apocalypse saga, or split the episodes into an Akio Ohtori saga and then the Apocalypse saga. 

7:58 Claims Utena intervening on Anthy’s behalf begins the first duel. While this happens in the movie, Touga intervenes in the scene he uses clips from (like literally right after the shot he uses in the video). Utena only gets drawn into the duels when Wakaba’s love note to Saionji is posted. Youtuber Noralities’ Utena video also gets this wrong, which makes me wonder if this was copied.

9:09 Claims Akio’s “End of the World” moniker is actually more closely translated to “Apocalypse”. In reality, the translation moves away from a more apocalyptic reading, with 世界の果て (Sekai no hate) apparently translating closer to “the furthest reach of a known world” or “edge of the world”. (Love the implications of this translation, but I digress)

9:10 As can be assumed from the previous point, this means I can’t find any sources that point to them not using the title “apocalypse” for religious reasons

10:10 Uses Anthy’s extreme passivity under her Rose bride persona to make a top/bottom joke. I’m gonna repeat this in case you’re just skimming. He uses a trait that likely stems from years of abuse, (possibly exaggerated by the persona Anthy uses to manipulate people), and uses it to call her a bottom. 

He also just doesn’t seem to understand how the whole point of Utena constantly telling Anthy that she's just a normal girl who should make more friends is framed as Utena imposing her will on Anthy, just as much as the previous Engaged have done. 

11:54 Apologies in advance for my most “um, actually!” point yet, but technically his statement that Anthy stops being host to the Sword of Dios is wrong. Akio literally pulls a sword out of her chest in the final duel. It's a more evil-looking sword of Dios, granted.

13:02 !!! CANTARELLA SCENE ALERT !!! He interprets it as them fighting over Akio?? Which like. I will allow people to have their own interpretations of vague and symbolic scenes. I will. I swear. This is not technically incorrect. It just makes me want to eat my own intestines.

14:44 Bad Anthy take #1: He states Anthy “is emotionally stunted to the point where she needs people to make decisions for her because she does not know how to think for herself” This ignores several moments of Anthy clearly making her own choices throughout the show, including the suicide attempt Somerton mentions about a minute prior. This also strips Anthy of what little agency she has throughout the story, usually exerted through messing with Utena or Nanami. (The fact that she repeatedly makes choices that contribute to her own abuse is, in my opinion, one of the most interesting parts of her character, and it's a shame that Summerton’s ‘reading’ of the story completely disregards that)

Additionally, he once again reads Utena ‘urging Anthy to think for herself” in the first arc as an unambiguously good move, and not as something critiqued in the show.

14:52 Summerton reads the Swords of hatred as symbolizing men’s hatred specifically. Again, I’m trying not to completely disregard differing interpretations to a show like Utena, but this feels very simplistic, especially considering the harm we see aimed towards Anthy by other women

16:42 Here he claims that his reading of the story seems to be “vastly different” from the bulk of Utena discourse. What is this reading? That the show shouldn’t be read literally. Or, in his words, “[we can interpret] Revolutionary Girl Utena as a deeply allegorical and symbolic story about the struggles of coming of age amidst widespread institutional corruption in a high school and which describes a passive culture of inaction in regard to brazen instances of domestic exploitation in which there is not only a question about the caporeality of the events transpiring but also which events can be taken for granted and which events are meant to signify abstract sociological institutions.” The idea that he believes this is in any way a new reading of the material honestly baffles me.

Part 3: Part 2

17:48 through 18:50 differently quotes the Wikipedia article for postmodernism. He even makes a joke at 17:55 about Wikipedia. Please kill me. 

The first three themes he lists at 19:11 are just the three main themes listed on the Revolutionary Girl Utena Wikipedia page. What was that about a “vastly different” reading, James?

You’re gonna have to take my word for it, but this section is so short because it's just him talking about the various ways the story can’t be taken literally. He does, ironically, call this a hot take.

Part 4: Part 3

Here’s where the reading falls apart folks

At 23:15, he states that some things in Utena are allegorically coded, while others are to be taken literally. This is true. However, he seems to take this to mean that some parts of the show are Strictly Literal, while others are Strictly Allegorical for things going on in the Literal World. 

This is apparently why he prefers the Anime to the Movie, where there basically is no separation between the Literal and Allegorical

This take is bizarre to me for several reasons, but here is my favorite. At several points, he mentions how Revolutionary Girl Utena is a work of Magical Realism. Magical Realism is literally defined by its blending of the “literal” and “allegorical”, the mix of fantastical elements in a mundane, realistic setting. This idea of the impossibility of a blurred line, that Utena must either have lore where the magic is all real and means nothing, or dedicated allegory segments quarantined from the rest of the story, is contrary to the very idea of Magical Realism.

I can’t help but wonder if Somerton took his mentions of Magical realism from a previous work, due to how little it is consistent with his final argument. Either way, this section suggests a great lack of creativity in his analysis, a shame for such a creative work.

24:36: Shiori slander, for those who care

After this he gets really worked up about people assuming symbolism in everything, even when the author ‘doesn’t make it clear something is symbolic’. He shuts down a reading of a shot in the Lord of the Rings. Miley Cyrus is there? Very The Curtains Were Blue of him. 

28:22 Claims that Wakaba is the key to telling where the Strictly Literal segments end and the Strictly Allegorical segments begin. He states that, under this lens, deeply personal moments of character suffering such as all of the sexual abuse and Anthy’s suicide attempt (which he literally cites) should be read as symbolic and be “approached with uncertainty rather than confusion”. (28:24-29:13)

This also somewhat falls apart when you consider Wakaba is the jeep in the movie's car chase

And then he rants about people not liking his Attack on Titan video for a bit. Since its potential symbolism also doesn't follow hard enough rules to be symbolism. Once again, the separation of “fact vs allegory” I haven’t watched AOT, so that's all I’ll say.

Part 5: Part 4

Thank god this part is short. Much like Dios’ on-screen presence.

32:55 Makes the extremely bold claim that Dios is not Akio. As in, never even became Akio. because Dios is Strictly Allegorical.

Just to be a pedant, this is pretty explicitly disproven in the show

Confusingly, both earlier and later he will address these two as the same character. 

33:04 he also explains the root of Akio’s name in a tone that suggests this is supplemental information and not like. Literally something he explains out loud in the show?

Part 6: Part 5

This section is nearly entirely about Akio Ohtori. I would like to note that him and Dios are the only characters with dedicated segments.

38:30 The part where he states that Dios gets his powers from deflowering women.

38:46 Claims, once again, that Akio’s abuse of Anthy “may not be literal”. 

38:59 “the instance of exploitation here is used because assault has deep roots as indicating that akio's gender is the source of his imbalance”  THE ASSAULT IS ABOUT AKIO NOW???

39:45 Bad Anthy take #2: “Anthy’s conformity to the Rose bride is based around the fact that she feels good being subservient because this is the only thing in her life that has ever brought her any kind of positive reward”. This is a direct quote. Anyway, I can’t think of any instances in the show where Anthy’s subservience gives her a positive reward, except maybe when she’s intentionally using it to manipulate others. As for her feeling good being the rose bride. She tries to commit suicide. Dude.

Side tangent, but isn’t this exactly what Akio says during the final 2 episodes? That Anthy enjoys being a witch? Is the main villain, who consistently says things during that very episode that are blatantly false, our source of information for this take? I guess so, since this is the dedicated Akio section.

At 40:20 he decides to introduce the concept of Anthy, Akio, and Utena as stand-ins for wider concepts, which is antithetical to his approach in analysis beforehand

Part 7: Part 6

42:40 he finally acknowledges that he’s been spending too much time talking about Akio, and literally no time on characters like Nanami

46:10 states that Utena’s exclusive motivation “is to protect Anthy from the predatorial intentions of the other dualists”, which disregards the fact, which she states herself, that she was largely participating in the duels and protecting Anthy to feel like a prince

48:04 The part where he says that Akio has ‘chaotic Bi vibes’ in regards to him sleeping with Touga, who is 17 and implied to be a long-term victim

Part 8: Part 7

54:01: His concluding point is that Utena was the real prince all along. 

In true Somerton fashion, the video then ends over a scrolling wall of patrons, with not a single citation in sight.

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Part 1 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (I will be adding more and tag the Masterlist) Thank you @hellishjoel for putting on this contest. It's a lot of fun!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: Roughly 5000

Warning: Dilfy smut, age gap (23 & 42)

Mid-June, 2024. The first summer back home upon college graduation. You knew there would be an adjustment period and while you didn't necessarily feel unhappy, there was a strangeness that left you with feelings you couldn't quite pinpoint. This was your childhood home, your hometown, your room - but still, somehow it felt foreign.

You hung up the maroon cap and gown that showed off the primary color of Texas A+M, the college where you had spent the last four years studying your ass off to get a degree in criminal justice. At twenty-three years old after spending the last few years in a little off-campus apartment with some friends, you were feeling both aggravated and nostalgic upon returning to your parents' house in the suburbs. They were great and you got along just fine; but the freedoms that had gone along with renting your own place were now reeled in a bit tighter. At the very least you knew your mother would likely stay awake on the nights you were out late. Still, you appreciated how much they cared about you.

You moved to your bedroom window and flung it open to let in some air to get rid of the stuffiness that lingered in the house. Immediately, your eyes landed on a man next door standing behind a grill as smoke filtered up above him in a faint, little cloud. He flipped a burger with a pair of metal tongs and took a sip from what looked like a bottle of beer.

"Hey, honey."

You jumped at your mother's voice as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. "Hey." You pressed your eyebrows together and motioned out the window as she entered the room. "Who's that?"

"Oh, I guess it never came up in conversation," your mother said with a shrug, "That's our new neighbor. He moved in back in January."

You glanced back out the window.

"He’s a bit too old for you,” she teased with a laugh.

You whipped around and made a face. "I'm not... I'm not checking him out. I'm just asking why there's a stranger in the Wilsons' backyard." You smirked and raised your eyebrows, "Maybe if my mother told me things I wouldn't have to play detective."

"Isn't that what you got your degree in criminal justice for?"

You chuckled, knowing she would most certainly outwit you in a verbal battle. "And I'm 23 years old. No one's too old for me anymore."

"Well, in that case I hear they just built a nice, new nursing home down the road with plenty of widowed men. I can drive you there if you'd like."

You let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll pass."

The two of you giggled and your mother continued, "Will you be joining your father and I for dinner tonight? We were thinking of just going to Chili's and then heading to a play at the little theater downtown. The kids are putting on Grease."

You smiled as your phone vibrated with a text from your best friend. "It's Holly."

"So, I guess the answer is going to be no," your mother suspected. She smirked and got the hint. “Keep in touch.”

"Okay," you agreed and then cleared your throat when she turned to go. "Mom, what's his name?"

"Huh?"

"The neighbor," you went on, "I should probably introduce myself since I'm going to be a resident of 45 Harding Drive again."

"Joel," her mother replied, "Joel Miller."

Your parents left soon after and so you wandered out to the back steps, waiting for them to take off first before popping open a beer. The ice cold beverage tasted better than normal because of the incoming summer heat that was supposed to really strike the following morning. With a content sigh, you leaned your elbows back on the top step of the set of four that led from the back door into the oversized backyard.

"Jennifer?" a deep, scratchy voice made you jump for the second time that night. You put a hand on your chest and glanced off to the side when you realized a man had called out your mother's name.

The neighbor, you thought, feeling your stomach knot up.

You cleared your throat and rose to your feet, leaving the beer on the top step. "No… I’m (Y/N)." You took a few steps in his direction though he made his way almost all the way to the steps.

"(Y/N)?" His features became clear when he stepped into a small, back light beside the door. The man flashed a friendly, boyish grin from beneath a trim beard. "Tim and Jen’s daughter?"

You looked down sheepishly and smiled before lifting your eyes to meet his stare. "Yeah."

He’s hot, your inner monologue informed you, as if your cheeks hadn't suddenly grown hot.

His eyes shifted to the beer and his grin widened even more before he extended a hand. "I'm Joel... your neighbor."

"Nice to meet you." You gave a closed-mouth smile and took in his appearance, consciously telling herself not to stare. His plain white t-shirt showed off his broad chest and shoulders

Joel cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," you assured him and then cleared your throat, "Do you want a beer or something?"

A smirk twisted onto his face., "No thanks. I was actually just coming over to see if I could borrow some butter."

"Oh..." You glanced over your shoulder at the back door and then back to Joel.

"You don't have to," he said reassuringly, unable to keep the grin from his face. "You don't even know me yet so-"

"No.” You cut him off, "No, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Joel's voice cut through you like a knife and he kept his eyes firmly locked on yours.

You nodded, unable to look away for a moment and then waved him inside.

"Don't forget your brew here, honey." He reached down and scooped up the beer as you flung the back door open.

You smiled again, "Thanks."

Joel nodded and followed you in, before glancing around at the modest but modern kitchen. "You, uh... you even old enough to drink this shit?" He motioned to the beer.

You rolled your eyes, "I can show you my ID if that makes you feel any better." You flung open the refrigerator, "I know my parents are going to treat me like I'm in high school again."

"Well... they're just trying to protect you," Joel said. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." You glanced over her shoulder at him, somewhat pleased to catch him staring - or so you thought. It prompted him to look elsewhere.

"Here." You removed a stick of butter and crossed the room to hand it to him. When the butter landed in his hand you decided to be bold and didn't immediately let it go, "How old are you?"

He chuckled before holding a wicked smirk and again held her captive with his playfully intense eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

You stared back, somewhat used to gaining control over the guys you had dated or been interested in in the past. Already, this time you felt a bit outmatched and part of it was your instant attraction to him. When Joel took one step in her direction, you swallowed hard and gave a random answer.

"Thirty-two?"

Joel laughed a little louder, putting a hand on his stomach. He ran the other hand through his messy brown hair and pointed. "You're so full of shit."

You smiled at him, "I was thinking more of thirty-eight, thirty-nine."

He sucked his teeth and gave you a look up-and-down before smiling wide again. When he didn't say anything in response you flat out asked, "Am I right?"

"Forty-two," Joel finally informed you after a long pause.

"Over the hill then?"

He snickered and then motioned to the fridge, "Ya know... I will have that beer if you don't mind."

You smiled before reopening the fridge to fetch one for him. When you placed a bottle of Bud Lite in his hand he used the counter to pop the top rather than twist it. When the dented bottle cap fell to the floor and danced in circles for a moment you glanced back up to find him continuing to stare as he took a long swig from the bottle.

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your dad going to notice that a few of these are missing?"

"They're mine," you informed him, "And I'm not-"

"A kid, I know..." Joel rolled his eyes now and the two of you shared a laugh, "Believe me when you're my age you'll love that someone will accuse you of being younger."

"I'm sure I will."

He reached down and scooped up the cap from the ground and then held it out in his palm. When you went to reach for it he closed his hand and smiled playfully.

"I'll take it," Joel offered, "Don't want you to get caught drinking these things when your parents come home." He continued to tease you about your age.

"You know, I could've guessed you were fifty."

He laughed out loud. "Smart mouth on you," Joel flashed his index finger at her with the hand that held the bottle, "I like it."

You looked down and laughed again, feeling your cheeks grow hot again from his remark.

"Anyway, I should be getting back." Joel continued to smile, almost triumphantly and winked. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too.”

He held your gaze for an extra second, forcing him to smirk a final time before heading out the back door.

"Thanks for the beer," he said casually, "I'll see ya around."

8:15 pm - the following evening

"Sorry I couldn't make it out last night," Holly said to you. The two of you sat side by side at barstools down at one of the local bars in town. "My boss can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"It's fine. I had the house to myself so I kind of just had some time to chill and binge watch some old shows."

"Sounds terrible."

You laughed and shrugged. "It was alright."

"Well, here's to... summer?" Holly raised her martini glass and you tapped her beer bottle gently against it.

"To potentially the weirdest summer of my life."

"Why's that?"

You shrugged, "I don't know. Being back home doesn't feel so 'at home' anymore."

"Give it time." Holly sipped her drink, "In a month it'll feel like you never left."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Hey, it's not so bad. I'm here." She smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Jill and Molly should be home within the week too. We can get the old crew back together before we all get real jobs and have to do shitty adult stuff."

"I'll drink to that," you agreed, taking a longer swig of the beer. You sighed and began to peel at the blue Bud Lite label, letting your mind drift to the night before with Joel. You envisioned him snapping the cap off the top of the beer bottle, using the counter. A smile crossed lingered on your face.

"Ooohh... someone's checking us out," Holly commented, "Or maybe they know you..." Her eyebrows pressed together and she motioned using her head toward a table in the corner of the bar.

"Oh shit." You couldn't contain your response but realized it must've sounded out of place.

"What?" Her friend asked, "Do you know him?"

"That's my neighbor," you informed her, "New neighbor."

Joel smirked and gave a wave but quickly entertained a conversation he was having with two other men at the small, corner table.

"He's kind of a Dilf."

You snickered and shrugged, unable to take your eyes off of him. When Joel glanced back in your direction you looked away and quickly took a sip of your.

"You think he's hot," Holly suspected with a laugh.

"What?" You shook your head, "No... I mean he may have some Dilf qualities or something like you just said but…” The sentence drifted off.

"Mm-hmm..." She continued to stare at her friend with playfully accusing eyes.

"Stop," you joked, "I just met him last night."

"Last night?" Holly perked up, "And..."

"And what?"

"You tell me."

You laughed again, "He came over to the house because he needed some butter."

"More like some sugar," she winked and glanced up toward a television that had a baseball game on in front of them.

You let out a hearty laugh and shook your head.

"He keeps looking over here." Holly’s voice perked out, "Oh! He's getting up," Holly whispered, stalking him for a moment with her eyes.

You glanced over and felt your stomach twist in knots when he headed in their direction.

"So you are over twenty-one," Joel cracked a wide smile and tapped the back of her chair as he continued to walk by.

"Twenty-three," you called after him, smiling wide.

He glanced over his shoulder, winking once before continuing on around a corner toward the bathrooms.

You let out a sigh and Holly turned back around.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" her friend asked. Before you could attempt to plead your case Holly went on, "He's hot... and he's totally flirting with you."

"He's not flirting with me."

"That was a Frank Sinatra-worthy wink."

You shook your head, laughing again. "Where do you come up with these things?"

"You're glowin. You're crushing on this guy. Who cares if he's your neighbor. Get on that."

"He's forty-two," you lowered your voice.

Holly raised her eyebrows and glanced toward the doorway where Joel had just walked through before returning her attention to her friend.

"Forget it." You sipped your drink and tried to pretend like you were nterested in the game on the television.

"At least admit you're crushing."

She turned to her and shook her head, "Fine... he's hot. Okay?" You focused on the screen for as long as she could and tried to pretend not to notice when Joel rounded back into the bar. You let out a deep breath as he crossed behind you and felt a rush when he came up beside you to flag down the bartender.

"Another round?" the middle-aged bartender asked, already reaching for a beer.

"Please,” Joel said with a nod, "You can put it on the tab." He turned to you, "Any interest in playing darts over here?" He nodded toward a dart board in the corner.

"Sure."

"Don't feel obligated." He forced your eyes back to his and continued to stare into them.

"I don't." You felt that intense paralysis again and couldn't turn away. When the bartender came back with the round of beers for Joel, you felt relieved and let out a breath.

"Get these two what they want," Joel added to the bartender, "Next round's on me when you finish those."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"It's fine. I owe you one from last night." He headed back to the small table with his friends and Holly finally snapped you out of your daze.

"I thought you just gave him butter," she whispered with a giggle, "What was last night?"

You swallowed hard and rose to your feet, prompting Holly to do the same. "I offered him a beer and he took it," she said, "It was nothing... believe me. If I had anything interesting to share I would tell you."

Your legs felt heavy as you crossed the dark bar that was scattered with only a handful of other people. While the two other men began collecting darts and erasing the chalkboard to the side, Joel stood staring with his elbow on the table. For a moment everything else was in the background and you could only focus on him.

Shit... Any wit she had going for her had betrayed her. The instant, intense attraction you had to him was completely clouding your judgment. You felt like you were about to enter a wolf den, though you didn't at all mind playing the part of Little Red Riding Hood.

The anxiety-ridden feeling you had had leading up to the game of darts diminished as the night went on. You played a few games, swapping teammates several times, beginning with a 'boys versus girls' theme and then pairing off randomly when one game ended.

"He's going to fuck it up, you watch," Joel taunted as his friend lined up, closing one eye as he released the dart, only sending it clunking off the board and to the ground. "You didn't even hit the fuckin' board." His words drew laughter from everyone and the man that missed stumbled to retrieve it, chuckling as he went.

"I'm fucked up," Skip, the older robust man, remarked as he struggled to pick the dark up from the floor.

"Ya think?" Joel joked, continuing to sip on his beer.

"It's about time I get this man home to his wife and let her deal with him," the other man, Charlie, chuckled from behind a pair of alcohol-induced crimson cheeks. "Can't hold his liquor."

Skip huffed a breath and closed his eyes with a hand on his head. "The old lady's going to be mad at me. Especially when I tell her we've been hanging out with these lovely ladies." He motioned to you and Holly, laughing at himself and making the others do the same.

"I'd leave that part out if you knew what was good for ya," Charlie informed him with another laugh. "Come on Skippy. It's past your bed time."

"Game over?" Holly asked you.

"I guess so." You raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Charlie, you guys to get home?" Joel asked.

"It's just a quarter mile down the road," Charlie waved a hand. He smiled, "Good night ladies."

"Goodnight," you both said at the same time before Holly turned to you.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Be right back." She raised her eyebrows, noting it would give you and Joel a moment alone and you tried to play it off coolly.

"Okay." She watched a moment as Holly made her way down the bar and around the corner.

"Hope I didn't kill your girls night," Joel said.

"No." You turned back to him and leaned an elbow on the table, "We were just bored. Had to get out of the house."

"Mmm..." He slid back down into a seat and you took upon herself to join him as you waited for Holly.

Joel leaned both elbows on the table to straddle his beer, "You're probably used to night clubs filled with young guys just dying to buy you a drink. This has to be fuckin' lame."

"I was over that scene by my junior year," you told him with a laugh as you shook your head. "They were all the same with their cheesy cologne and gelled up hair."

Joel huffed a laugh and took a sip of his drink. "Sick of that shit huh?"

"Very." You mirrored his position and continued to sip on the beer you had been milking for the better part of an hour, "I'm kind of over the party scene... and the being at home scene."

"You've been home for one fuckin' day." He raised his eyebrows, "Get over it. You're saving money."

You nodded, "Yeah... yeah you're right."

"I know I am." He smiled, a charming arrogance radiating out of him.

When your phone buzzed in your pocket you jumped and quickly removed it, finding a text message from Holly.

I'm getting in my car. Snuck out the back. Have fun. You'll thank me later.

When you looked back up Joel was grilling you with his eyes. You wondered if he had managed to read the message or not. You cleared her throat. "Holly," you said simply.

"You guys need to go?"

You opened her mouth to speak, still unsure if he had seen what your friend wrote but decided to chance it and lie. "She... got sick. She's on her way home."

"She okay?"

You nodded. “Just a little embarrassed I think and decided to go." You took a sip to buy yourself some time in case he asked any more questions. When he didn't you tried to change the subject. "This place is dead."

"What's so bad about the college scene?" Joel asked.

"Huh?"

"The young guys, the night clubs..."

"Oh... nothing, I guess." You cleared her throat feeling like he was trying to read your mind. Again, your face felt flush with heat and you continued, "They're just... all the same. There's no appeal anymore. When I was eighteen I thought it was cool sneaking into bars and all that." You smiled and shook her head before looking him in the eye. "This is more my speed."

Joel stared back and didn't immediately say anything.

You almost couldn't take the quiet stalemate. The sexual attraction for Joel burned in your chest and in that moment, in the quiet corner of the bar, it was hard to fight it. All the same, you felt like you had to be reading his body language correctly in assuming he was feeling something too. Still, the fact that he was your older neighbor, who you didn't know very well, lingered in the back of your mind.

Getting involved with Joel would satisfy your instant craving for him but beyond that you knew it could only lead to making both of your lives more complicated.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you told him, when you couldn't contain your feelings any longer. It was the only thing you could say without leaping across the table and initiating a make-out session that played out animalistically in your mind.

"You gunna disappear on me too?" he joked, though you could see there was a hint of seriousness in his piercing eyes behind the wicked smile that hadn't left his face all evening.

"Not a chance." You felt embarrassed by the bold nature of your words, but took a deep breath and made the long walk across the bar into the restroom area. When you pushed open the door you felt relieved that no one else was in there and quickly made your way to the sink to pat some water on her face. You let out a breath, leaning both of her hands on the counter and then took in your appearance to make sure you was satisfied with the way you looked.

I'm being ridiculous, you thought. I'm too old to feel this out of control over a guy... or a man.

Joel was a man. He wasn't at all like the college boys you had been surrounded by who loved to crush beer cans on their heads, brag about how many consecutive beer pong games they'd won and worst of all when they threw the cheesiest lines at you and your friends to try to get laid. Joel didn't have to say or do anything in particular. He could simply look at you the right way and you found yourself ready to obey any request or demand he threw your way.

I’m in over my head, you thought, but I don't care.

You took in another deep breath and felt like you had the quick break that you needed to hold a sensible conversation with him without the constant interference of your out-of-whack hormones.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself and fiddled with your hair before pulling the door open to head back into the short, dark hallway. When Joel rounded the corner at the same time from the bar both of you stopped abruptly.

His eyes stalked the length of your body before finally re-settling on your gaze.

"Checking to make sure I didn't bail?" you joked, nervously laughing just after. Your tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you couldn't help but look him up and down the way he had just done to you.

Joel swallowed hard, tipping his mouth up into a half-smirk before walking past the men's room door in your direction.

You didn't have time to process all of the questions in your mind because he marched up and planted his lips against yours, immediately penetrating them with his tongue as his hands successfully shoved you up against the door to the women's room. It opened a few inches beneath the force.

You felt an explosion of adrenaline filter through your body as you kissed him back even more savagely than in your daydreams.

Joel pushed the door all the way open with one hand, not separating himself from you as he gripped your ass with his free hand and pushed his hips firmly against yours.

You tangled a hand in his hair, kissing him back with a heated passion that you didn't bother to try masking now that he had initiated the fantasy that had been playing out in your mind since you had him.

He moaned into your mouth before taking a breath and crushing his lips back against yours. Your back collided with the tile wall at the back of the bathroom, and you arched your neck as he began to ravage you, sliding a hand down the front of your pants while gripping your face with the other to kiss you hard again.

It all was happening so fast. You struggled to keep up but couldn't process a conscious thought when his first two fingers slid inside of you.

You bit down on your lip in a break in the kiss and spread your legs wider to give him more access.

Joel left a single kiss on her lips and spoke against them in a husky whisper, "Let it out honey," he kissed you again, "Let it out."

You knew the bar was nearly empty and there wasn't another woman that had been there. Even if there had been you didn't know that you would have cared. When his fingers twitched, arcing perfectly in his technique to make your entire lower body shiver with pleasure, you groaned.

"Fuck Joel," your whined his name, desperate for his tongue to dominate your again as he continued to finger you relentlessly until you felt like you were going to explode.

Joel's arousal heightened when he traced your lips with his thumb of his free hand, prompting you to take the tip of it into your mouth.

"God," he closed his eyes relished in the feeling, pushing his fingers deeper into you.

You whimpered again, writhing beneath his touch and attempted to reach for the belt buckle on his pants. "I want you."

He removed his hand from beneath your slick panties and placed his hands against the wall on either side of you as you managed to undo his buckle and shove his pants down off his hips.

Instinctively, you dropped to your knees, taking in as much of him as you could. Joel moaned and bucked his hips once as he grasped the back of your head with one hand. You looked up, watching his head fall back as his closed eyes pressed shut tighter. Joel allowed you to have your way with him as you continued to go down on him like you might never get another opportunity to do so. "Fuuucckk." He drew the word out, encouraging you to continue as he grabbed a fist full of your hair. "Ohh shit..."

Had anybody walked by the door there would have been no way to mask what was going on. Joel didn't hold back and felt an additional jolt of pleasure when you stroked him with your hand before quietly demanding him to come.

He opened his eyes, letting his mouth hang open as he glanced down, making eye contact with you as you engulfed him again.

"Jesus..." Joel's eyes closed and he felt an unmistakable buildup brewing below his waist. He couldn't ask you to stop, not when he was on the verge of exploding. "I'm gunna come." He shouted the words so loud that you thought for sure that someone had to have heard your encounter from somewhere in the bar. Still, you didn't let up and allowed him to push deep into you, gripping the back of your head with such force that you couldn't have separated your mouth from him if you tried.

He groaned, not attempting to hold back what he was feeling, alternating different curse words in between uneven breaths that ultimately left him panting as you finished him off. With a final breath he released your hair, letting his hand drop toward your face as you wiped a hand across your mouth and slowly rose to your feet.

Joel stood there for several seconds, breathing heavy with his pants at his ankles and a hand still on your face. When he finally came down off the high enough to speak, a chuckle left his mouth and ran a hand through your now-messy hair. "Shit honey... you didn't get yours." He let out another breath and then retrieved his pants from the floor and straightened out his appearance.

"It's alright," you told him with a sly smile, noting the heat that was still brewing between your legs.

He huffed another breath and adjusted himself over his pants before regaining your gaze. Joel smiled and drew his thumb gently under your eye, "Mascara's running. Sorry honey."

You closed her eyes as he continued to wipe the stray makeup away from your face. When you reopened them, Joel sported a half grin and he raised his eyebrows.

"Guess I fuckin' owe ya one."

You snickered, pleased to know that he wasn't at all expecting this to be your only encounter. "Yeah... you do."

Joel took a final, deep breath. "Well... you know where to find me."

"Next door."

"If you see me outside come on over to... borrow some butter or something.”

"Butter..." You snickered and then swallowed hard when he took a step toward her and slid a hand back down the front of your pants.

Joel touched his lips to yours as he spoke and this time gently began to massage up and down your wet center. When your mouth twisted up in a smile and you closed your eyes again he grinned and removed his glistening fingers. "It's a shame this is going to go to waste. Too bad you're so damn good at giving a blowjob. I had all the intentions of fucking you but I could just not ask you to stop.”

"Damn," she said quietly, but smiled, praying he might have it in him to continue.

Joel smiled, reading the disappointment on her face. "I'll be in and out tomorrow," he claimed, "You see me and you feel like bringing me over some butter…”

"I think you’ll definitely need some."

He looked down and made his way to the sink to wash his hands before turning to her with a smile. He ended the night the same way he had the night before, "I'll see ya around."

CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

[defectiveporcelaindoll]

Chapter III: So High School

“Bittersweet sixteen suddenly”

series masterlist previous chapter

pairing: post-prison/ cm: evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.)

series synopsis: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

cw: age gap (Spencer is 42, reader is 24 in chapter 1), Use of y/n's (I'm sorry, I know l'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, romance romancing, kisses and touches but no smut (yet…maybe) ; Reader is feisty and flirty; Spencer is anxious and has an aggressive outburst; female reader she/her pronouns, and mentions of typical CM violence.

wc: 2.7k (they just keep getting longer and longer)

“Okay. Classes are canceled, if anyone asks, you’re sick. I called Emily, let her know we won't be working tonight. Uh, what else- oh! I got us a reservation at the Glass Garden. I think that might be fun, and I got us a table at a restaurant that has really great reviews,” he called from his place on the sofa. Hearing the bathroom door open, he turned, his breath catching in his lungs. In the backlight of the bathroom, Spencer Reid almost believed he’d seen an angel standing in his living room in a sundress.

“Oh- um, you look really pretty- not that you aren’t always pretty, obviously you must know that you’re beautiful but I just—in comparison to when you were crying… you’re…” Any attempt to save himself from the awkward hole he’d dug himself into died on his tongue as Y/N giggled. Her laugh was like a ray of sunlight, melting parts of Spencer’s heart he’d long forgotten.

“Okay, so I’m sick,” she gives him her best fake little kid cough, causing him to roll his eyes. “We’re off duty and you made us plans…oh, and I guess I clean up pretty good for a girl who just had a meltdown against our front door.”

“Very well… for a girl who had a meltdown against our front door,” Spencer nods, his cheeks beginning to ache from the smile that’s been plastered on his lips since she entered the room.

Once they were off campus, the couple let out an exhale neither were aware they'd been holding, away from prying eyes allowed to simply exist as individuals for the first time in weeks.

“You said we’re going to a glass garden?” Y/N asks, fiddling with the sleeve of the cardigan Spencer insisted she bring as they make their way down the highway.

“Yes! The Chihuly Garden,” she smiled, loving the way his features lit up with such excitement. “It’s supposed to be this insanely beautiful collection of really intricate and colorful glass sculptures. I’ve always wanted to see it but we never have time when we’re in the city for a case. Actually, I saw one of the artist's pieces in London—god, it had to be almost twenty-five… years ago.”

Spencer’s heart dropped to his stomach, the excitement in his voice dying with the last words, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. His age was showing, and this feeling was something he’d never experienced before. For nearly twenty years, Spencer had been the youngest person on the team. Even at forty-two years old, he still was the baby until Y/N joined. Was this how everyone else felt, talking to him about ‘the good ole days’ for all those years?

Y/N glanced over at him, a soft sympathetic smile taking her lips. In the three weeks she’d spent in such close proximity to Spencer, she’d picked up on a few of his tells. Right now, she could see the wheels turning in his mind, convincing him he’d ruined things and debating addressing the difference in their ages.

“Spence—”

He didn't respond, his mind still running rampant until he felt the pressure of a hand on his thigh, pulling him back to reality and causing him to inhale sharply, his eyes frantically shifting between the hand, the road, and the woman in his passenger seat.

“There we go…” Y/N mumbled, giving his thigh a little squeeze before pulling her hand away and back into her lap. “You know it doesn’t bother me, right? You don’t need to freak yourself out because you’ve got a couple of years on me, Spencer,” she said with a little more confidence than Spencer was used to hearing from her.

“And besides, I’ve always had a taste for older men,” she shrugged, leaning across the center console to press a kiss to his now flushing cheeks. Spencer couldn't even bear to look at her, his heart racing as he tried to remain focused on the road. Was Y/N actually flirting with him or was she teasing him? Surely it had to be a joke.

The remainder of the drive was uneventfully quiet, with the couple only really speaking to point out the landmarks they’d passed until they pulled into the tiny parking lot beside the Space Needle. As soon as he’d killed the engine, Spencer was out of the car, running around the back to grab Y/N’s door. She smirked, eyeing the older man up and down as he playfully caught his breath from the minimal jog.

“Shall we, M’lady,” he mumbled awkwardly, offering her a hand as she slipped out of the car.

“get my car door isn’t that sweet. then pull me to the back seat”

“Who said chivalry was dead… Keep it up, we won't be making it out of this parking lot,” her brow wiggled rather suggestively as she watched Spencer gulp, his palm beginning to sweat against hers. “Come on, lover boy. I need that big brain to tell me all about the pretty glass.”

Their afternoon was spent hand in hand or arm in arm, the two only separating long enough for one of them to take a photo of the other. Spencer claimed he ‘needed a good photo for his office’. Y/N thought it was cheesy, but she’d giggle and pose wherever he directed her, and he’d try to do the same for her; though, his poses were far more stiff and awkward, but somehow, that made them all the more endearing.

They spent hours observing the installations, with Spencer rattling on about the different techniques used for each detail and Y/N occasionally offering her own commentary about how the art made her feel. To any passersby, they looked like a happy couple that had known each other for years, not two FBI agents playing make-believe for a while.

The restaurant Spencer had picked for dinner was across the park from the gardens, so there was no sense in moving the car. The once bright late summer sun had fallen victim to the Seattle clouds that were beginning to roll in as the couple meandered through the park. Spencer’s eyes trailed the younger woman’s face; he could tell she was contemplating something.

“What is it?”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Y/N glanced up at him, her hand falling from his grasp as she twisted her fingers anxiously, waiting for Spencer’s nod of approval. When it came, she paused, taking a deep breath.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, do you know that you completely changed my life?”

Spencer froze a few paces in front of her, brows knit together as he tried to decipher whether or not this was part of her act as the loving wife or if he actually, unbeknownst to him, had an effect on this young woman’s life.

“You taught a seminar in Nevada five years ago, breaking down the relationships between psychology and philosophy in human behavior.” Y/N’s gaze dropped, the summer breeze exposing the blush creeping up her ears. “I wasn’t even supposed to be in the class; I was an English major, but my roommate dragged me along… and maybe it was the way you taught, your excitement I guess? Or the way that it felt like you actually cared. I could’ve listened to you talk for hours.” She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “After that seminar, I marched myself down to the counseling office and became a psych major… added a year and a half to my college experience, but given that I’m about to walk into a very expensive restaurant, married to the professor who changed my life? I think it just might’ve been worth it.” She let out a breathy chuckle, her eyes searching Spencer’s for any indication of discomfort before dropping her gaze back to her hands, mindlessly fiddling with her wedding band. “Sorry, I just really needed to get that off my chest.”

“tell bout the first time you saw me”

For a moment, Spencer sat awestruck. He rarely found himself at a loss for words, but the newfound warmth in his chest made it nearly impossible to speak. So instead, he took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he nodded, guiding her down the path to the restaurant in silence until they reached the door. He hesitated just outside, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

“Thank you… just… thank you.”

Dinner went smoothly, with the only minor hiccup being Spencer’s tangent about the bread basket and his qualms with group food. But other than that, the two simply enjoyed each other’s company, the sound of rain echoing against the roof as they ate.

As the couple exited the restaurant, they were met with the heavy downpour of a summer night storm. Y/N sighed, pulling her cardigan around her a little tighter, her lips pursed as she looked up at Spencer, his hands stuffed anxiously in his pockets. There was no way they were getting to the car dry, he knew that as a fact. So, with a little sigh and a nod to Y/N, he stepped out from the covered awning, arms outstretched as he let the rain soak him.

“Oh, so you’re crazy!” Y/N called, her voice hardly audible over the downpour, making no attempt to move. After a minute, Spencer jogged back to her, his arms wrapping around her middle as he lifted her, kicking and laughing, carting her out into the rain. She wiggled free of him, a smile plastered on her face as her hair began to drip.

 She spun around, embracing the fact she was now thoroughly soaked, a girlish giggle passing her lips as she tucked wet hair behind her ears “Ya now, even soaking wet, this may just may be the most successful date I’ve ever been on.”

Spencer quirked a brow, his head falling to the side like a puppy’s. “Your dating pool is really that bad?” he mused, remembering what it was like to be in his twenties awkwardly trying to make meaningful connections with people

“I don’t even really date; the men—no, they were boys—that have come into my life only ever want to waste my time, so… It’s like a twisted game of kiss,marry, kill? Except everyone sucks and there is a good chance someone is going to actually be crazy enough to kill you?” She shrugged, taking a moment to stare up at the sky her lashes heavy with raindrops

“So what’s it gonna be?” she called, her head turning to glance up at Spencer, the challenge in her eyes illuminated by the gas lamps lining the pavement. “You gonna marry, kiss, or kill me, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes darkened, accepting her challenge with a mix of desire and determination as he stepped closer. Wordlessly, closing the space between them, his hand gently cradling her jaw, his touch an even balance between tender and possessive. He leaned in, devouring her lips, capturing her in a kiss that was anything but tentative. The kiss was electric, a rush of sensation that made the world around them disappear. His other hand found its way to her waist, pulling her closer, his fingers digging into the damp fabric.

Y/N responded eagerly, her fingers gripping the damp fabric that clung to his chest, pulling him closer still. She melted into him, the feel of his lips moving against hers sending shivers down her spine despite the warmth that blossomed in her chest. The rain pounded around them, soaking their clothes and plastering her hair to her face, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way Spencer held her, the way his mouth moved over hers with a hunger that left her breathless.

“I’m betting on all three,” she whispered against his lips, her voice dripping with desire.

         “All three…” he repeated, pulling away just enough to press a kiss to her forehead, his hands still cradling her face. “I am way too old for you…” he muttered breathlessly, his head shaking as he brought it down to rest against hers.

“The bureau seems to disagree,” her retort was quick, her lips ghosting over his. “And like I said earlier, it doesn’t bother me. I’m a big girl. I know what I want.” She kissed him one more time, hard and quick, before bolting through the park towards the car, leaving Spencer standing in the rain like a lovesick kid.

Spencer watched her go, his heart pounding hard and heavy against his ribs while his mind raced a million miles a minute as he tried to make sense of the fact that his ‘wife’ just might actually like him.

“Are you coming or what?” The rain had died down enough for Y/N’s voice to travel with ease. Spencer ran his hand through his wet curls, pushing them off his face before breaking into a jog up to the car. When she was within arm's reach, Spencer pulled her close, just taking a moment to hold her, fantasize that this life they were leading could be his reality.

Y/N wasted no time, her lips finding the curve of his jaw with ease, her hands tugging at the collar of his shirt. Spencer let out a groan, his head turning just enough to grant her better access to the sensitive skin at his neck, carefully guiding her back against the car door before returning his hand to her jaw, drawing her lips up to his.

There was a moment of bliss, where this was the only world that mattered, just a couple of lovestruck kids, then the shrill tone of Spencer’s phone cut through the air.

“Let it ring,” she all but whined.

“That’s Emily’s ringtone—” he groaned, fishing the all too loud phone out of his pocket and sighing loudly before putting the phone to his ear. “It’s not really a good ti-” he stopped, his gaze flicking down to Y/N, her frame pressed against the car door, another sigh leaving his now slightly kiss-bruised lips as he untangled himself from her. “No, I understand, I hear you. We’re heading back to the house… we’ll be there to meet the officer.” She took that as her cue, silently slipping into the passenger seat. Spencer stayed outside, pacing the length of the car, nodding to himself as Emily continued to talk.

“I’ll let her know.” His voice was muffled from behind the window. “Yup. Okay. We’ll call you if there’s any update. Good night.” Y/N watched as he hung up the phone, his head hanging low for a moment before he turned, striking the back door in a heated flash of anger, before he stalked around the car, climbing into the driver's seat.

It’s silent for a moment, the car tense with now long-forgotten lust as Spencer tossed his phone into the center console.

“There’s another couple. Same MO, same calling card.” She could see the frustration bubbling to the surface again as Spencer’s knuckles started to turn white against the steering wheel. “Local field agent is going to bring the updated file and the crime scene photos to the house…”

“Spence, this isn’t your fault—”

“I never said it was,” he bites back, sending Y/N shrinking into her seat. “I’m sorry… I just— I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean to snap at you… I know there was nothing we could’ve done. But it's still frustrating.”

She nods, now her turn to comfort him, her hand hesitantly reaching out across the center console to pry his from the wheel, gently squeezing. “I know, Spence. I know. We’ll figure this out, build our profile, but unfortunately, we just need a little more time. Hopefully soon enough, this unsub will take the bait and it’ll be us against them…” She chuckles softly, shaking her head in an attempt to lighten the mood. “God, that’s morbid… thinking it’ll be a relief to have a murderer place a target on your head…”

“You get used to it…” he said, any warmth in his voice evaporated as the engine roared to life.

the brink of a wrinkle in time

taglist : @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @guiltyyassin @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @cherrycemeterry @hiireadstuff @r-3dlips @sweetpeterparker @catertotshitposts

I hope i got everyone! if you’d like to be added to the taglist don’t hesitate to lemme know and as always i’d love to know the thoughts and feelings! xo

[axeeglitter]

Melorius's shop: Thank you for your service

Adam stepped into the small, dimly lit Halloween shop without a clue that tonight would be anything but normal. He hesitated for a long time before deciding to go the office party. At 42, he really was finding those kinds of events more and more boring. He was late to get a costume, and with the Halloween party in just a few hours, he didn’t want to show up empty-handed, even more because Nathalie, his coworker he had kind of a crush on since she was hired a couple of months ago, would be here. Adam looked all day long but couldn’t find anything he liked or at his size. The last place on the block he didn’t check was this weird little hole-in-the-wall shop, a place he wouldn’t normally visit. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

As he walked in, the smell of old leather and musty costumes filled the air. Racks of outlandish outfits surrounded him, superheroes, clowns, knights, cowboys, Indians but none of them felt right. He wasn’t trying to win a costume contest. He just wanted something easy, fun, and simple that might bring him some points with Nathalie.

"Looking for something special?" came a smooth voice from behind the counter.

Adam turned to see an older man standing there, wearing a sharp suit that didn’t fit the vibe of the place at all. His eyes gleamed with a strange intensity, his thin lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

“Uh, yeah,” Adam replied, “Just something for a party. Nothing too flashy.”

The man, whose nametag read Mister Melorius, gave a knowing nod. "I think I’ve got just the thing for you." Without waiting for Adam to respond, he disappeared behind a curtain and came back holding a dark, pressed military uniform. Adam was about to say no thanks when a shimmer of the dogtag caught his attention on the uniform. He thought for a second and as a reflex, his hands reached for the costume. Maybe it could work he started to think.

"Try it on," Melorius said, handing it over with a strangely eager smile.

Adam nodded and took the uniform, heading into the changing room. It felt… strange in his hands. Light but sturdy, with a coolness to the fabric. As soon as he touched it, something seemed to tug at him, a pull he couldn’t explain.

He quickly undressed, neatly folding his 3 pieces royal blue costume and red tie, then slid the uniform over his body. The trousers clung to his legs perfectly, and when he zipped up the jacket, it felt as if it had been tailored specifically for him. But just as he finished adjusting the collar, a sudden warmth spread through him, like someone had flipped a switch inside his body.

“Whoa…” he whispered, looking in the mirror to see his reflection only to be met with weird sensations invading his lower half.

His breath hitched as a deep, pulsing warmth gathered in his chest and spread outwards. He watched, wide-eyed, as his reflection began to change. His shoulders, narrow and unremarkable, slowly began to broaden. Muscles thickened beneath his skin, his traps rising higher, giving him a solid, athletic look, he never had. His biceps bulged, veins snaking under the skin as they expanded, stretching the sleeves of the uniform.

Adam’s arms swelled as they filled with muscle, his forearms thickening to match. His fingers, once slim and soft, grew thicker and calloused as if he’d been doing pull-ups and handling weapons for years. He tried to flex his hand, but the strength in his grip now felt foreign, almost as if he didn’t recognize his own power.

His chest pushed out next. He gasped, watching as his pecs thickened, rising up under the fabric of the uniform. Each breath he took made his pecs swell even more, the fabric pressing tight against them. He ran a hand over his chest, feeling the firm slabs of muscle there, and while his body was filling out with youthful strength, no chest hair sprouted. Instead, there was just a faint happy trail starting beneath his belly button, leading down into his waistband.

But it wasn’t just his chest. His abs rippled underneath the uniform, once undefined but now clear and sharp as if carved from stone. Each muscle tightened, becoming more pronounced, a solid six-pack replacing the soft stomach he’d grown used to over the years.

"What's happening?!" Adam muttered; his voice slightly higher than before. He tried to tug at the collar, but his hands were trembling. He watched his legs next, his thighs, once lean, ballooned with muscle, stretching the fabric of the pants until they hugged every powerful curve. His calves followed, thickening with each passing second, as if he had spent years running drills and hiking with heavy gear.

Adam felt a strange tightness in his groin. His cock, which had been a respectable 5.5 inches before, began to throb. He looked down, his heart pounding as he watched it grow harder in his pants. But instead of stopping, it kept swelling. The pressure inside his trousers grew unbearable as his cock thickened, stretching longer, now standing at a solid 9 inches when fully erect. His balls, too, grew heavier, tugging down into the tight space of his trousers. The weight of them sent an odd thrill up his spine.

He felt every change in vivid detail, the growing weight between his legs pulling more of his attention as his balls swelled, stretching the skin tight. It wasn’t just physical, his mind seemed to grow fuzzy as well. He clutched his head, trying to hold onto who he was, but each throb in his nuts seemed to drain away another part of his mind, like his very memories were slipping away.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he groaned, trying to focus on his reflection only to realize his face starting to change, to regress. In front of him, his hair started to grow back and took a light brown color, his skin tighten on his bones and muscles and his eyes cleaned of any sight disease..

The muscles in his back stretched next, widening, growing strong as if molded for carrying heavy packs. His spine straightened, the tightness there easing as his posture improved, making him stand taller. His entire frame had become lean but muscular, the body of someone fresh out of boot camp. His feet felt cramped as they grew too, filling out and pushing against the leather of his enw combat boots.

The reflection staring back at him was unrecognizable now, his youthful face smooth and sharp, his jawline chiseled. He was 19 again, with the fresh vigor of someone who had just graduated from military school. His eyes gleamed with a new confidence, the innocence of his late twenties long drained away.

Adam, frozen in surprise and incomprehension in his new 19 years old self wanted to scream for help. He grabbed the curtain of the dressing room only to realize something just woke up a bit lower.

His cock twitched again, harder this time, filling his pants with precum as it continued to throb. The uniform was pressing tight against his groin, the sensation making him grit his teeth. Adam felt like he was falling mentally, his old life, his name, his personality, everything that made him himself was being funneled into his swelling nuts, filling them with the essence of his past self. He tried to fight it, gripping his thickened biceps and flexing his jaw, but the pleasure was too much.

“Oh… fuck,” Adam gasped, his cock leaking steadily now, every pulse sending another piece of who he used to be into the pit of his balls. His mind was going blank. Everything about his past, the awkward college days, his old job, his straight lifestyle, was swirling away, replaced by a fresh, cocky attitude that fit his new body like a glove.

Adam felt the last grip he had on his old life give up in his brain as he mentally heard a Gulp sound and without touching himself, he came. His cock twitched violently in his trousers, releasing rope after rope of thick cum into the fabric, soaking through. His knees almost buckled, his muscles tensing as his orgasm washed over him. Every shot of cum seemed to drain away the last remnants of Adam. He groaned, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as it spurted again, marking the end of his transformation.

His breathing slowed, the intense pleasure fading, leaving him standing there in the dressing room. Adam blinked, his expression now one of cocky satisfaction. His body was exactly what it should be, perfectly toned, fresh out of military school, ready to take on any challenge. He gave his bulging biceps a flex, smirking at his reflection.

Just as the last of his cum soaked through his uniform pants, there was a flash of light.

When his eyes adjusted, Adam found himself standing in a dimly lit room, surrounded by cheering soldiers. The Halloween Initiation party was in full swing, but this was no normal party. The barracks were filled with the scent of sweat and musk, and the energy in the room was electrifying. The blue-balled soldiers had been playing games of dares all night while drinking alcohol and thinning about their girls back home. They were taking turns on each other, their pent-up frustration boiling over into raw sexual energy as each other companies was the only thing available for them at the moment.

Adam's cock, still half-hard from his transformation, twitched at the sight. He wasn’t one to back down from a bet, no matter what it involved. His cocky grin widened as one of the guys, a bulky lance caporal sauntered over.

“New guy, huh? Hope you’re not shy,” the private smirked, pointing toward the center of the room where a game of dares was already heating up. Guys were taking turns on each other, sucking, fucking, the air thick with tension, laugh and alcohol.

“Shy? Never,” Adam said, the words rolling off his tongue like second nature. His old self would have been horrified, but that part of him was long gone. Now, all he felt was the thrill of the challenge, his cock already hardening again at the thought of taking one of those dares.

Within moments, Adam found himself stripped down to his uniform pants, standing in the circle of horny soldiers. His cock stood at attention, rock hard, dripping precum as the dares flew around the room. One soldier dared him to take one in the ass to prove he was one of them, and Adam’s grin only widened.

“Bring it on,” he said, his voice steady, confident.

Across the room, another soldier, Ryan, a tall, ripped guy with a mischievous smirk, caught Adam’s eye. Ryan had a reputation for never backing down from a challenge either, and tonight was no different.

“Alright, new kid,” Ryan called out, voice booming over the music. ���You think you’ve got the guts to take on me? I bet you can’t last more than four minutes before I make you tap out. And if you think you can, then let’s make it interesting, I’ll fuck you, and if you make me cum first, you win. But if I fuck you senseless before the clock runs out, you’re mine for the rest of the night!”

The crowd hooted and hollered, clearly loving the idea. Adam, never one to back down, chuckled and shrugged, stepping forward. “You’re on,” he grinned, puffing out his chest as if the challenge didn’t faze him at all. Inside, his nerves tingled with a mix of excitement and tension. His old self would’ve balked at the idea, but the new Adam? He was born for this.

Ryan smirked and cracked his knuckles, stepping forward, already unbuttoning his pants while some of the guys set up a makeshift timer. Adam, shirtless, his abs and pecs glistening with sweat, kicked off his boots and started to peel off his uniform pants, his semi-hard cock springing free to a chorus of cheers and whistles from the guys around him. The thought of bending over for the first time sent a shiver down his spine, but instead of hesitation, all Adam felt was excitement. He was ready to win this bet and prove he was worth being one of them.

They positioned themselves in the center of the room. Adam braced himself on his hands and knees, his ass in the air, and his cock still throbbing as it brushed against the cold floor. The crowd gathered close, cheering and egging them on, chanting Adam’s name. Ryan loomed over him, his own cock hard and dripping, ready to go.

With no further delay, Ryan pushed his cock against Adam’s tight, virgin hole, and the moment Ryan started to press inside, Adam gritted his teeth. A sharp pain shot through him, his body tensing instinctively. The stretch was intense, way more than he’d expected, but he wasn’t going to back down. No way. Not with all these guys watching, cheering him on.

“Hah! You good down there?” Ryan teased, but Adam just barked a laugh through the pain.

“Hell yeah, I’m good. Just fuckin’ do it, man,” Adam shot back, shaking his head, trying to ease himself into the sensation. He wasn’t about to give Ryan the satisfaction of seeing him break.

The crowd roared as Ryan pushed deeper, and Adam’s breath hitched in his throat. He could feel every inch of Ryan’s cock stretching him wide, filling him up. It hurt like hell at first, his ass clenching tight, but Adam just grinned through it, biting down on his lip, determined to win.

He could hear the timer start ticking. He just had to hold out, just had to make Ryan cum first.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, hotshot,” Ryan growled and started to thrust, his hips slamming forward, his cock driving into Adam with rough, forceful strokes. Adam gasped, his body jolting with every powerful thrust, but instead of crumbling, he let out a breathless laugh.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that,” Adam taunted, grinning as he glanced over his shoulder, catching the strain on Ryan’s face.

Ryan’s cock pounded into him, faster, harder, his grip tightening on Adam’s hips as he tried to get the upper hand. But no matter how rough it got, no matter how much it burned and stretched Adam’s hole, he refused to give in. The cheers from the guys around him only fueled his determination.

“C’mon, Ryan, don’t hold back now!” Adam shouted over his shoulder, half-laughing, half-moan escaping him as the pleasure started to edge out the pain. He could feel his own cock twitching beneath him, leaking pre-cum onto the floor as Ryan’s relentless fucking started to push him closer to the edge. But it wasn’t about him. He had to make Ryan lose it first.

And Ryan was struggling. Adam could feel it in the way his thrusts were getting sloppier, the way his breath was coming in ragged gasps. His cock was twitching inside him, his composure cracking with every second that ticked by. Adam’s muscles tightened, and he arched his back just a little, pushing his ass up to meet Ryan’s thrusts, making it even harder for him to hold back.

“You gonna cum for me, Ryan?” Adam teased, voice ragged, but still full of that cocky confidence. The guys around them cheered louder, and Adam fed off their energy, his grin widening. He was close to winning. He could feel it.

Ryan let out a guttural moan, his hands digging into his hips as he tried to hold out, but Adam wasn’t going to give him a chance. He clenched his ass tight around Ryan’s cock, squeezing him hard, and that was all it took.

With a loud groan, Ryan’s hips stuttered, and Adam felt the sudden warmth of Ryan’s cum spilling deep inside him. The crowd erupted into cheers, fists pumping into the air as Ryan lost the challenge. Adam let out a triumphant laugh, his chest heaving, body shaking with the intensity of the moment.

Ryan slumped forward, panting heavily as he pulled out, but Adam was already standing up, grinning ear to ear, his own cock still hard, bobbing between his legs as the crowd of soldiers slapped him on the back, shouting congratulations.

“You fuckin’ did it!” one of them laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You made him blow in under four minutes!”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Adam grinned, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He could still feel the dull ache in his ass, but it didn’t matter. He had won, he was one of them, and the rush of victory coursed through him like fire.

The crowd of soldiers slapped him on the back, congratulating him, Ryan approached from behind. The tall, ripped soldier, still catching his breath from their intense initiation challenge, gave Adam a smirk that spoke volumes. Without warning, Ryan wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. Adam grinned, thinking it was just part of the celebration, the camaraderie of the guys after a wild challenge.

But as Ryan leaned in, his breath hot against his ear, his voice dropped to a low, rough whisper. “You may be one of us now, Adam,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver down his spine, “but you’re still gonna be my bitch from now on.”

Adam’s grin faltered for a moment, his heart skipping a beat as the meaning of Ryan’s words sank in. Before he could react, Ryan’s hand slid down his bare back, slipping lower until his fingers brushed against his still-sloppy hole. The touch was sudden, intimate, and before Adam could even think to protest, Ryan pushed one thick finger inside, pressing against his sensitive, overstimulated prostate.

The sensation hit him like a freight train. His body jolted forward, muscles tensing, and his cock, still hard and twitching, suddenly erupted. Adam’s eyes widened as he came, hands-free, his cock pulsing and shooting ropes of hot cum onto the floor beneath him. His legs trembled, barely able to keep him upright as the orgasm tore through him, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave.

Ryan chuckled softly into Adam’s ear, his finger still teasing his prostate, milking every last drop of cum from him. The crowd didn’t notice, too wrapped up in another challenge thrown to another new private first class, but Adam’s world narrowed down to the overwhelming sensation of Ryan’s control over his body, the undeniable pleasure, and the sharp sting of submission.

As Adam’s orgasm finally ebbed, leaving him breathless and trembling, Ryan pulled his finger out, giving his ass a possessive slap. “Good job, Private First Class Adam,” Ryan muttered, amusement lacing his voice. Then, without another word, Ryan stepped away, blending back into the group, leaving Adam standing there, dazed, his cock still dripping, his body trembling from the intensity of it all.

The other soldiers continued to cheer and party, unaware of the intimate moment that had just transpired, but he knew. He felt it deep in his bones, his new life, his new body, and now, his new place in the barracks.

He was Private First Class Adam, the cocky, easygoing guy who never backed down from a challenge. But now, as he watched Ryan disappear into the crowd, his heart still racing, he realized something else.

He may be one of them, but Ryan had claimed him all the same. And Adam wasn’t sure he minded at all.

...

Back in the store, Mister Melorius went on and grabbed the folded blue 3 pieces costume to put it up for sell, a brand new “40 yo engineer costume” was ready to be sold to someone else. ______________________________________________________________

Hey! Here is today's story. Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always let me know what you think of it and feelf ree to send inbox messages if you want to see what Mister Melorius has in store for you. See you soon!

[luvjunie]

— when the dam breaks

contains: third person pov (42!miles’), no reader, feelings of anxiety, some harsh language, use of the n-word once, a one-sided fight, angst, mentions of grief, brief comfort at the end

summary: miles was holding himself together just fine, until he wasn’t. wc: 2,748

a/n: this fic is based on one of my headcanons from this post,(the 12th one). handling the grief of losing a parent is one of the hardest, most painful things to navigate, especially when you’re a teen and in school. i can directly relate to miles!42 because of this, which is probably why i’m able to go so in depth with his character. i’m really proud of how this turned out so i hope you guys enjoy reading <3

The back of Ms. Bellam’s history class was Miles’ favorite spot to sit in. The seat by the window, specifically. Where he could gaze out with the fantasy of being anywhere else but stuck listening to the lecture in his fifth block; forced to hear his teacher rave on about some old expedition he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about.

But today, Miles was not in the back of the class.

He had a bad feeling the moment the bell rung and the projector powered on to display the newest assignment the tall, stocky woman had on the agenda; a partnered project. Which, unfortunately, meant a new seating chart was on the horizon.

Miles must’ve spaced out during the introduction of the assignment, but his teacher’s assertive voice brought him back to the very moment he was dreading.

“Cody, you’re paired with—“ Ms. Bellam pulled a small slip of paper out from a little bucket of randomized names on her desk. “—Lauren.”

She ignored the quiet groan she got after unknowingly pairing two exes together and drew two more names. “Bailey, you’re with Lucas.”

“Sarah, you’re with… Faith. And Miles,” The brunette-haired teacher stuck her hand into the bucket once more to pull out the very last slip of paper, and read it with finality. “You’re with Gabby.”

Miles lifted his head and did a quick scan of the faces around, until he met the eyes of his new partner, Gabby, who gave him a small wave from the front of the class. His jaw clenched at the realization that he’d have to give up his safe corner, since the seats around him were filled, while the one next to her was open.

“Alright everyone, if you’re not already next to your partner, go find them.”

With an inaudible grumble and something along the lines of ‘i hate this fucking class’ and a mix of ‘kill me now’— Miles rose from his chair, snatched his backpack up with a little too much force, and crossed the classroom to plop down defeatedly next to the girl he was paired with.

Chin tucked in his hand and eyes glued to the ticking clock above the white board, he didn’t know how long he sat like that, or how much valuable information he’d missed while he ignored the overly peppy, thirty-year old’s directions to the class. But he did know that the minute hand on that damn analog device wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. The droning of voices overlapping and the bouncing of ideas filled the once silent air after instructions had been given, but Miles was far from focused on the task at hand.

The incessant tapping of his pencil against the hard plastic of his desk, matched with the clearly agitated bounce of his leg had his partner stealing experimental glances in his direction— her lips having been licked ample times from the stress of debating on whether to make the difficult decision of speaking to the boy who was clearly not interested in conversation— or even being here at all.

She spoke up anyway. “Um… So most of the other groups have pretty much chosen already. That means we’re left with James Cook, Vasco de Gama, Ferdinand Magellan, or—“

“You can pick for us. I don’t really care which one.” Miles interrupted.

“Oh—“ Gabby blinked. His response was curt, but at least she got one. “Okay then, Ferdinand Magellan.” Flipping through the rubric that had been passed out at some point, she referred to the second page with her index finger. “It says our presentation has to be between six to eight slides, which includes the works cited for our research. So we could do one introduction slide, and maybe about,” she paused to think. “Four?— information slides? And then we could add some fun facts and trivia questions at the end so we can get our class participation points in without too much effort. That cool with you?”

Gabby was a nice girl. She never bothered him, never looked at him weird when he’d come into class late sometimes, and had actually ran through the hallway to return the notebook that fell out of his open backpack just last week. He wasn’t aggravated at her, but more so at the fact that everybody could stare at the back of his head now instead of the other way around, like it was before. It made him self conscious about everything, even down to the way he was sitting in his chair. He could feel a few beams on his back right about now, and adjusted his position slightly.

Miles sighed and reminded himself to respond to her politely. “Uh-huh. Sounds good.”

A voice to his left behind him caught his attention, the voice in question belonging to one of the most obnoxious boys he’d ever had the displeasure of knowing— Ethan Thompson. Someone who always had too much to say and nothing productive or appropriate to add— it usually being something creepy or gross about a girl he wanted to ‘get to know’.

Miles would’ve tuned him out, like he always did, but this time it was impossible. Probably because out of all the conversations regarding the explorers meant to be researched, this one had absolutely nothing to do with history, or even school for that matter.

“Bro, did you hear about what happened to…”

Miles strained to hear as best as he could without moving from his seat, though it was a struggle since Gabby was still talking his ear off to the right of him about who would do what when it came to their workload.

“Miles?”

He ignored her as another voice chimed in, and his back stiffened.

“I know dude, my sister told me about it. Said he was killed in action or somethin’ like that… I just know his mom is crushed. I feel really bad.”

Miles knew people talked about this, he wasn’t dumb. But damn, did they have to do it when he was right there?

Then, there was a laugh.

Miles was confused. He didn’t find anything regarding the topic of their conversation even remotely comical.

“Fuck that,” Ethan quieted his voice, though not quiet enough. “That just means Mrs. Morales is single and up for grabs now.”

It took less than a second for Miles’ blood to simmer to a scalding boil. He held a subtle finger up and quieted Gabby, who was currently asking him about what they should research first.

“Can you give me just… one second?” he asked gently.

Gabby’s words died on her tongue and she gave a muddled nod.

Miles threw his elbow over the back of his chair when his torso whipped around, his eyes glazed with enmity and immediately catching Ethan’s.

“The fuck you just say?”

Ethan froze.

Miles’ tone was lethal, rage lifting the volume above the blurred chattering around, venom spitting from his tongue like he intended to kill the boy with words alone. The speed in which the class fell silent would’ve been humorous had there not been such hostility within the air.

“Miles, language!” Ms. Bellam’s eyes snapped up from her computer screen, her face a picture of disbelief at his unusual vitriol. He was always quiet as a mouse in her class, well behaved above all.

Jaws hung slack, the gazes of the students around darted back and forth between the two boys continuously, the tension in the room palpable.

Miles sat up straighter in his seat, jaw clenched and his patience dwindling. To say he was seething would be a dangerous understatement.

“Nah, nah Ms. B,” His head cocked, and his eyes narrowed at Ethan, ruinously. “I wanna know what this nigga just said ‘bout my fuckin’ mom.”

“Oh shit…” Gabby gulped. Today was the most she’d heard Miles speak in class almost the entire semester.

“It was a joke, bro.” Ethan huffed a chuckle, a nervous thing that his friend easily picked up on. Miles was not one to bluff, and Ethan was notorious for taking things too far.

“Don’t bro me, repeat that dumb shit you just said and watch how fast I knock your ass out.” Miles gritted through his teeth, hot air puffing through his nostrils like a bull who’d just seen red.

“Boys, enough!” Ms. Bellman was standing now, hands planted to her desk as she watched with bated breath, just like the rest of the class-now-turned-audience.

Ethan shrugged, and Miles swore he felt his eye twitch.

Strike one.

Then, the boy playfully nudged his friend’s arm with a cocky smirk, as if he thought the threat he’d just received wasn’t one that would be carried out.

Strike two.

“He’s baiting you, Miles…” Gabby whispered dejectedly, in warning, only so Miles could hear. But his tunnel vision had already set in.

“Go ‘head. Repeat yourself.” Miles demanded.

Nails digging into the skin of his palms hard enough to leave crescents in their wake, there was a voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he could get into serious trouble if he didn’t get his emotions in check, fast. He’d progressed so quickly in his after school M.M.A classes, that now, even getting into a simple fist fight could land him a serious assault charge. A judge would take one look at the history of his intense training, and the option to deem his hands as deadly weapons in the case would immediately be presented, and most likely acted upon.

Knocking the teeth out of a rich white boy would never be the smart decision here, especially not for someone who looked the way he did.

He’d be sent straight to juvie.

“I mean, all I was sayin’ is, technically—“ Ethan threw his hands up in a careless manner. “If I play my cards right, I could be your future step-daddy.”

Strike three.

Ms. Bellam was yelling now. “Ethan, principal’s office, now!”

And that probably would’ve been the better option, had he actually had a choice.

Miles’ movements were swift when he shot out of his seat, and the students in his way followed suit with yelps and gasps as they quickly removed themselves from the area. The desks blocking his pathway to pummeling the shit out of this kid loudly screeched against the school’s tile when they were shoved out of the way, and the one he’d mindlessly flipped over in his stampede proceeded to erupt the room into pure pandemonium.

One punch would’ve been good enough, Miles knew that. But in this moment, thinking rationally was so far out of his reach he would’ve missed it even if he’d jumped for it. He’d swung a closed fist to Ethan’s jaw and knocked him to the floor with ease, then followed him down, sat on his chest and had the boy’s arms pinned under his knees so he couldn’t protect his snobby-ass face. One punch would’ve been good enough, but just two vehement blows later, the satisfying crack of a bone that wasn’t his under Miles’ knuckles had him sending a few more into the reddened face of the boy beneath him, just to really get his point across.

“Jesus Christ— Miles!” Ms. Bellman scrambled from her seat in a panic and rushed to fling the classroom’s door open, her desperate yells directed to anyone who might’ve been strolling the hallways. “We need security in here! You-!” She pointed to a student with a bathroom pass. “Go get security, and tell them to come to room 205, now! Go!”

Everyone was yelling at once, but Miles couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing of rage in his ears. Anger is only grief turned sour— a terribly perilous thing to leave untreated.

Some of his classmates were frozen with shock, or fear, maybe— hands clasped over their gaped mouths while others had their phones out with the camera app open—vampires for some good drama while they hooted and hollered at the most exciting thing they’d seen this entire year.

“That’s enough!”

Strong arms suddenly hooked under Miles’ armpits and prevented his fist from worsening the damage already done. Two male teachers from neighboring classrooms had rushed in and yanked him up and off Ethan, his hips bucking as he kicked his way up onto his feet. Miles’ chest expanded and collapsed with the weight of his heaving breaths, face flushed with the remnants of his lost temper as he directed his attention to Ethan’s friend, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“When your boy wake up, tell him watch his mouth next time!”

Miles didn’t know why he was yelling. It was common knowledge that it’s pretty rare for someone who’s unconscious to understand what you’re saying to them.

He didn’t struggle when the two teachers dragged him away, but when they shoved him out the door and into the hall with more force than he thought necessary, he snatched his arms away from their grasp with a rolled shrug, and huffed a frustrated grunt about how he knew how to walk on his own.

—

The drive home was eerily silent. The radio hadn’t been touched, and neither had Miles by his mother’s gaze the moment they’d left the principal’s office after he received his verdict.

Out of school suspension. One week.

It was the best the administrative staff could do after Rio swallowed her pride and went as low as begging them not to expel her boy.

Slumped in the passenger seat with his hands in his lap, Miles didn’t bother to look at the bruises he knew were forming on his knuckles. It was a familiar feeling, and at the moment he was more concerned with why it felt like his throat had been stuffed with cotton when he tried to talk.

“Mamá, I—“

“Do not. Speak.” Rio’s breath wavered, her hands clutching the wheel so hard she thought she’d crush it. She tried not to let her voice break. “Not one word.”

Silence.

—

It all settled in as they climbed the stairwell, the images of what just happened flashing back in his mind every time he blinked; what he’d done playing over and over again in a continuous loop. The wooden railings creaked under the weight of his mother’s hand, and as she knowingly skipped the one that had weakened over the years, he knew the home that held every single emotion he tried to leave behind when he went to school was now just a few steps up.

Rio’s key twisted in the lock before she opened the door, and Miles followed behind her, shoulders slouched dispiritedly. He resembled something of a stray puppy; desperate for attention, but acceptant and grateful that it, as much of a nuisance as it may be, was being tolerated enough to stay on it’s finder’s heels.

He thought being scolded by his mother was bad, but the lack thereof was even worse. Her brows were clenched, and her conflicted yet somehow blank expression told him that she truly did not have any words for him as she leaned on the kitchen counter, hands clasped firmly around the edge so tightly her knuckles paled. She didn’t even know where to start, and Miles didn’t blame her. He refused to explain why he’d snapped when it was asked of him. When his mother’s widened eyes had pleaded with him to tell the principal what happened in that classroom that set him off in such a way, he didn’t. He had no reason not to, at least one he could think of right now, but his voice just wouldn’t allow it. Both in that office, and now in their kitchen, dimly lit by the warm light above the stove, the weight of his mother’s disappointment clung to the suffocating silence, like a fish to a hook and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mamá, I’m sorry.” He whispered in a quick breath, the lump in his throat painful when he swallowed it.

“Good money, Miles.” Rio shook her head, a hand coming up to rest over the rise and fall of her chest. “Good money! We paid good money to get you into that school, your dad and I. I work hard to keep you there and you just—“

Dad.

And the dam broke. Though its foundation wasn’t very strong to begin with— Miles’ shoulders crumbled under the weight of his actions and his tears flooded past his waterline with choked sobs that left no room for air.

Whatever Rio was going to say had been forgotten. The sight of her son sobbing in a way she hadn’t seen since the night they’d received the news immediately put a stop to her reprimanding. Now, she was truly worried.

“Oh Miles, come come come,” She hastily tugged him into a hug and wrapped him firmly in her arms, her hands repeatedly rubbing up and down the expanse of his back. “¿Qué es Mijo? (what is it, son?) Talk to me. No te lo guardes, ¿recuerda?” (no holding it in, remember?)

Miles could barely catch his breath, and somehow talking about it was just as painful as the ache that resided deep in his chest.

“I—It was Dad, it was about—“ a quick breath in split his sentence in half. “About Dad. He was—talking about what ha—happened and I—“ Miles tried for another, but it caught in his throat, ragged and choppy and had his ribcage stuttering from the lousy attempt to cease his hyperventilating. The fact that he couldn’t get his words out uninterrupted only frustrated him more; only made him cry harder. He scrubbed at his tears with the back of his hand, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

“He said—“ Another wilted inhale, and a hiccup. “It was abo—about you, and it was terrible and I— I just, I got so angry, and I tried Mamá, I did. But I couldn’t and—and then I was on him and I’m sorry—“

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rio used a hand to bring his head into her shoulder, his cries muffled and his tears wetting the sleeve of her blouse as his rambling came to a halt. Miles clutched onto her tightly, arms round her waist as he fell apart in front of the woman who’d tried her best to piece him back together.

“Respira, Mijo, respira… (breathe).” Rio whispered. “Please.” Seeing her son so distraught had brought on tears of her own, but she shut her eyes, and tucked away her own feelings so she could focus on his. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

“But you’re mad at me, I don’t want you to be mad at me—“

Rio shook her head and tutted at him. “I’m not mad at you, papa. I understand. Okay? I’m not angry. No.” She couldn’t be upset with him for something like this, not when he could barely shelter himself from his own guilt.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Miles was inconsolable as Rio continued rubbing his back, and her voice shook when she spoke, but she kept the uncertainty she held within her heart concealed from her promise to him.

“We’re going to be okay.”

[yuan4i]

42. operation cute guy

tw suggestive chapter

it was 9:45 at night when you and scara arrived at treasures street; al haitham’s house. loud music was hitting you as you came close to the building. You two entered the house, and colourful lights and nostalgic music from your teen years greeted you. you held onto your friend’s hand tight when you saw the large groups of people drinking and dancing. “they’re surely going to receive a noise complaint by the volume of their music…” he grumbled, looking pissed and not wanting to be there, making you giggle. 

“yn! oh my gosh, hi! you’re like 45 minutes late. how have you been? how were your exams? do you want me to get you and scaramouche a drink?” kaveh exclaimed, walking up to you two. you could tell he was a bit tipsy, swaying a bit. you were about to answer when another man came up behind kaveh and wrapped his arms around him. “haitham! hi!” the blonde giggled to his boyfriend. you couldn’t tell who you were jealous of right now. al haitham or kaveh? “anyways, back to you yn. could i get you anything to drink?” “i’m good kaveh, thanks though. thank you so much for inviting us, i appreciate it.. exams kicked my ass dude,” you answered, trying your best to be happy for your two friends. they were so cute together yet you felt envious. you knew deeply inside that you couldn’t truly feel happy for them and their relationship. “if you want anything to fill your stomach, they’re all in the kitchen. there are few non-alcoholic drinks, mostly just for mixing.” al haitham said, looking at you, then walking away with kaveh to the beer pong room aka the living room. “thank you!” 

“so… what did you want to do here? i’m kinda hungry to be honest…” scara asked you, as you two walked towards the kitchen. “let’s get something to eat or drink then.” there in the kitchen, you saw dehya, with a can of beer in hand. “sup yn! your fit is adorable omg.” “dehya!” you smiled, going up to her for a hug. “did you want something to drink? how ‘bout a screwdriver? contains vodka and orange juice.” dehya said, already mixing the liquids before you could answer. “oh! sure…?” you replied unsure. honestly, you’re not as experienced with alcohol. you’ve only drunk once and that was in liyue. “scara, do you want anything to drink?” “do they have soju?” “oh course!” dehya chuckled, then handed you your prepared drink. 

half an hour passed and you were feeling a bit tipsy, yet your drink was still unfinished. you and scara stayed in the kitchen, sitting on the counter next to the sink, talking about his old school. man, you two are boring at parties. “as i was saying, fatui academy was absolutely the worst. ​​sandrone was such an ass to deal with. terrible personality and in group projects she cared for nothing outside of her research! oh and don’t even get me started on childe in group pro–” before he could finish, you two heard a holler from the entrance of the house. 

“PARTY ROCKERS IN THE HOUSE TONIGHTTT!!” you could recognize that voice from anywhere. quickly, you put your drink down, jumped off the counter and ran towards the entrance. “childe!” you exclaimed, jumping on him. “yn!! omg haha, surprise!” he grinned and you giggled in his arms. “whatcha doing here, childe? is tao here?” you continued giggling. you missed your friends so dearly. “sadly she isn’t here tonight. i came to visit you and scara, duh!” he picked you up and spun you around. “are you drunk yn? your talking’s a bit slurred haha!” “hehe maybe ‘don’t know–” “childe.” you were interrupted by the voice of scara. “hey scaramouche!” the ginger smiled, putting you down, then going in for a hug with the indigo-haired man. “we were just talkin’ shit ‘bout you.” you grinned, laughing. 

the three of you walked back into the kitchen, giggling and laughing. “so how long are you staying?” “around a week or two. i’ll be visiting fontaine next!” you and scara sat back onto the counter while childe stood. “so watcha drinking? is that a vodka orange?” childe asked you, pointing at your cup. “yeah, want the rest? ‘didn’t finish it.” you asked, handing the cup to him. “didn’t finish? c’mon! chug it down!!” he exclaimed, shoving the cup towards you. “childe, yn shouldn’t be drinking so much… i don’t think they can handle–” “are you doubting me kuni?!” you gasped. 

truthfully, you did not want to be wasted and wake up hung over tomorrow however, you saw this as a challenge. “what? no, yn i–” “is that al haitham and kaveh?” the ginger asked, pointing at the blonde and gray-haired, laughing and walking into the kitchen. “oh, um yeah.” “they’re mid… hey! wait look, there’s a cute guy there that’s alone!” childe pointed at a guy with dark brown tied in a messy ponytail. he was alone in the hall, across from you three in the kitchen. “yeah he’s pretty cute… childe! stop pointing, he’s looking at us!” his green eyes met yours, and then gave you a grin, gesturing you to come over to him. “chug up and go talk to–” before he could finish his sentence, you took the cup and downed the rest of drink. the sour citrusy taste sat on your tongue. scaramouche glared at the ginger, cursing him under his breath. “i swear to god childe, you will be the one dealing this their ass tomorrow morning.” 

you walked out of the kitchen, “oh! hey yn! are you alright–” before kaveh could finish, you walked past him and al haitham. “they probably didn’t hear you. it seems like they’ve been drinking…” his boyfriend reassured the blonde. he could tell that you were drunk by the way your body was swaying with each step you took and truthfully, you did hear them. you just didn’t feel like conversing with the two in case you snap or lash out your feelings. your head was pounding, and you were stumbling a little as you walked through the hall towards him.

“hey…” you said, trying to stand straight. unfortunately, the dizziness got you and you stumbled. quickly the man caught you in his arms. looking up at him and gazing into his key lime green eyes, your face was flushed, “shit sorry.. fuck, i didn’t mean to fall on you.. i’m yn by the way…” you apologized, removing yourself from his arms. “it’s cool. i’m sethos. good to meet you. guess you fell for me haha!” “yeah guess you’re right, pretty boy. i’ve fallen for you.” his face grew warm at your remarks then laughed. “man you’re good! you’ve even got me flustered!” 

the two of you continued talking for the rest of the night, sitting outside on the front door steps. “so, tell me yn, why haven’t i met you earlier?” he asked, giving you a playful look. “well, i’m amurta med program so i’m usually caught up in work… so, what about you? where have you been hiding?” you giggled. “well, i take an open course like dehya and candace. but honestly, i rarely hang around campus, so maybe that’s where i’ve been hiding… yn, is there something wrong? something about your body language, has something been bothering you?” you knew you weren’t going to dump everything that’s happened recently on someone stranger you met less than 24 hours ago. besides what were you even supposed to say? my two friends got together but i had a fat crush on one of them then found out recently that one of them liked me and i also developed feelings for him too? no way, you couldn’t do that. 

“yeah i guess, but i don’t feel like talking about it… thanks for asking.” you awkwardly replied. “i could help you take your mind off that if you’d like.” the honey-skinned man suggested in a flirtatious tone. there was a moment of silence before he broke it. “sorry, i was just kidding—” “actually, i think i’d really like that.” another moment of silence as pink dusted your cheeks. “… can i kiss you, yn?” sethos hesitantly asked you, trying to look into your eyes. “geez not even going to ask me on a date first?” you joked, “yes, sethos, yes you can.” your face flustered and your heart pounding as he leaned into you. eyes fluttering closed, his hands cupped your face and slowly his lips made contact with yours. his lips were warm and soft against your own, while he could still taste the citrusy bitter liquor on you. 

“what the actual fuck is going on.” the two of you heard a familiar voice, jumped and pulled away. “oh fuck um hey tighnari! how’s your night going? whatcha doin’ out here?” the male asked him. “i’m going back to my dorm. now if you two could excuse me, i’d like to get going.” tighnari said, quickly walking away from the house. “i think i’m gonna get back inside and get another cup of whatever dehya made me earlier… thanks for keeping me company, sethos.” you said, standing up from the steps. “wait, yn! here, give me your hand.” you gave him your hand, and then he pulled out a sharpie and wrote his number. “it’s my number, for the date you mentioned earlier.” he grinned, putting the sharpie away. “oh my god, you’re such an idiot. i’ll give you a text when i get home.” you laughed, opening the door inside.

CULT OF DIONYSUS ❀ prev ✿ masterlist ✿ next

al haitham x reader x kaveh SYNOPSIS  kaveh, al haitham and you are close friends and went to the same high school. but after your junior year, you left them and sumeru behind for liyue’s 2 year med school exchange program. now you’re back in sumeru for a class reunion and attending sumeru akademiya.

note : hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter bc i've worked so hard on it omfg LMFAO i a bit of this chapter at like in the morning today, so please lmk if you see any grammar or spelling mistakes ^^; tysm all for reading <33 (wc : 1600) taglist form

[yetanotherlesbianonthiswebsite]

An overly complicated analysis of everything we know about Neve Gallus in canon, as well as some additional thoughts of mine on the themes surrounding her (because I am so gay for her already)

1. Canon information

- Her age is, as of yet, unknown. In the Tevinter Nights story The Streets of Minrathous, narrated in the first-person perspective by Neve, we read “He greeted me with a dismissive ‘young lady’ that made me think he’d forgotten my name” (216). However, this is a description by an older man, whose nephew is alive long enough that his “parents had disowned him years ago” (213). In another passage of the story, the following can be read: “The man was a con artist I’d turned in the year before. To be fair, he’d nearly gotten me killed the year before that, so we were even” (221). We can therefore be certain that she has engaged successfully in detective work for at least two years, and has likely been doing so for a while. We do not know when the story is set, neither do we know anything about the parallel stories of “The Wigmaker Job” and “Luck in the Gardens”. We get the information that a Venatori cultist was wearing clothes that are fading (220), and that the cult had long since lost much standing in society; it has likely been quite a number of years since 9:42. At the same time, we know of a Qunari invasion in the eastern part of the Tevinter Empire from 9:44/45 onward, with several major cities falling to the invaders. Neve describes the catacombs as “a place to hold a year’s worth of food and supplies, securing the city’s survival in case of blight or Qunari invasion” (232). A woman as observant and politically savvy as her would likely not frame an invasion as that much of a hypothetical in case of an ongoing war. It is reasonable to assume that the story takes place sometime around the middle of the forties. Which means that by the events of Veilguard, in the middle of the fifties, we should expect Neve to have had at least twelve years of experience as a private investigator, which places her likely age at minimum in the early thirties. (Not that I am hoping for anything 40 or upward, no, there is no MILF agenda here)

- She describes the manor of a rich man as “a residence nowhere near the third-rate bookseller where I rent a room” (216), locating her residence both outside of the rich parts of town, and informing us that she does not have the greatest of means.

- Likewise, we learn that her “family has more templars than mages. I’m sure that says a lot about me. The point is, I’m not from an old family and I felt as at home in Lady Varantus’s house as Jahvis looked” (218). Within the rigid social hierarchies of Tevinter, she is privileged by magehood, but not by blood. To the degree that Tevene social classes can be broken down so neatly into stratified categories, she seems to be somewhere in the lower ranks of the middle class.

- She is canonically disabled; an amputee wearing a prosthetic leg made of dwarven metal (215). In the comic The Missing #4, we see her prosthetic, it is designed as a cobra standing up in intimidation of an attacker, and the metal seems to be predominantly a bronze or gold with blue or silver accents (6). On her foot on the other leg, she is wearing a boot which has a bronze or gold tip symmetrical to the tail of the cobra, and a high plattformed heel (ibid). Combining that with the fact that she fights and runs with a prosthetic and a heeled boot (TSoM 215, TM4 16), we learn that she expresses immense control over her body.

- Likewise, she approaches all her actions, her appearance, and her communication verbal and physical with a high degree of precision and deliberation. Her outfit is perfectly composed, with white and dark leather as primary colours, the same blue-gold metal that her prosthetic is made out of for accents as well as her belt (which is a coiling snake, TM4 6), a dark turquiose for some of the cloth (such as pants and cravat), a light turquiose for such accents as her fingernails and her meticulously applied eyeliner, and some manner of cap akin to a graduation cap at the right side of her head, in an almost black brown, with gold details. The shape of the cap has the exact same angles as a rhombus as her earrings (TM4 9). The detail on the cap forms a snake. It has been posited by tumblr user @cleric4vampire that even her movement in the trailer reinforces the cobra/snake motive (https://www.tumblr.com/cleric4vampire/752850000700194816). Despite sometimes excrutiatingly long workdays (223), Neve puts an extreme amount of emphasis on her appearance. Even in the comic, while the style does feature very dynamic character movements while talking, her gestures stick out as particularly deliberate; she talks with her hands a lot, and with deliberation (see the appendix of this post for more). This speaks to a plethora of willpower, control, and a desire to maintain a controlled barrier between the self and the larger world.

- While writing this, I have come up with the theory that the blue accents of her apparell might partially be lyrium. If she is literally wearing lyrium makeup, I will marry her.

- The only two offensive types of magic that we see her use are ice magic (e.g. TSoM 226, 227, 235, TM4 16, 17), and a manner of magic that lets her freeze the moisture in the air around a person to stagger them (e.g. TSoM 214, TM4 17). Through cooling the air around herself a bit less, she manages to hide herself in mist (e.g. TSoM 214). She is capable of some healing magic (227).

- She has a network of contacts, acquaintances, and informants all over Minrathous, particularly in its underground.

- She loves salty fried fish (221). This is not only in line with Minrathous being a coastal capital, which has a distinct influence on the caloric inflow into the city and cuisine at large, but also, once again, stresses that she does not have much money at her disposal, by emphasizing that she eats fried fish from a cheap street food stall very regularly (221), which she calls her “fish dinners” (228).

- She canonically has straight dark brown hair, meticulously kept at the left side of her face to keep space for the cap on the right, brown eyes, and brown skin. It is furthermore canon that anyone who has a problem with that or wishes to change that with mods will be exploded via elemental magic. It is furthermore canon that I will not buy Veilguard if the game whitewashes her.

- She is involved with the Shadow Dragons in helping fugitive slaves (TM4 9, 20). She expressly approves of the use of armed violence against the institution of slavery. At one point, she comments: “The cult’s dead god wanted to bring Tevinter back to what it was—to its “glory.” It was nonsense, of course. It always was. The old empire was even more corrupt and heartless than what it is now, no matter how pretty the picture Corypheus painted” (TSoM 221). In her vocal resistance to the empire, she sees it as a good usage of her time to track down Venatori (214). In spite of her resistance against the empire, she considers the city her home and would like it to be better than it is (214, 221).

2. Themes: The noir detective and the empire

It goes without saying that the formational archetype behind the character of Neve Gallus is that of the noir detective. A solipsistic cynic with little means, a private investigator, called to investigate a crime scene in dance with and against the police, depending on the point of the story. The noir detective of the movies of the first half of the 20th century, the formational corpus from which stems the archetype, is distinctly tied to the metropolis; a story that needs the urban context, the urban scenery. While of course featuring a plentitude of settings and configurations, at the root of the archetype rest particularly a white, male, US-American figure. To bring Minrathous in parallel with New York particularly is in so far a welcome change as it means a partial departure from the orientalism underlying a lot of early descriptions of Tevinter in Dragon Age canon. But, to me at least, it raises the question of how well Dragon Age is equipped to tackle the arising thematic implications. Just like the Tevinter Empire, the United States of America is a slave society fueled by the deprivation of Indigenous communities and the physical exploitation of a racialized, disenfanchised class. The metropolis is the core of the imperial core; and Minrathous is, as the largest city of Thedas and the capital of Tevinter, certainly that. The Streets of Minrathous manages but a partial critique of the society of the imperial-colonial metropolis. While Neve remains critical of the templars, the undeniable cop stand-in, the critique remains bound to corruption the higher one goes in the chain of command, as well as the bureaucracy (231). The story, in particular, follows the very dangerous trope commonly found in copaganda that the base-level officers should be allowed to disobey the chain of command and act on their own, particularly when it comes to the deployment of heavy weaponry (234). That the base-level officer is as much an agent of imperial violence as the top of the hierarchy, turning the systemic and depersonal violence of the system into concrete interpersonal violence, cannot be formulated by the text.

Furthermore, the Venatori, in their supremacist-fascistic death cult, remain cast in ableistic terms that deprive their ideology of systemic connectedness: “that didn’t stop remaining loyalists from acting delusional and stirring up trouble when the mood struck. That’s fanatics for you” (213). That fascism is but the logical conclusion of empire, particularly a weakened and collapsing empire, remains just as unacknowledged. And yet, what haunts the story is a profound sense of loneliness and alienation. A rich man estranged and alienated from his nephew because of his fear of social repercussions for the nephews behavior, said nephew dying while grasping to any semblance of connection he can (“He knew what came next. He was searching for whatever company he had left” 215), Neve facing the cultists in their hideout alone because the templar Rana does not want to breach protocoll, hell, even the Venatori preacher making a ridiculous figure, alone and ignored on his soapbox while the masses rush by him and shut him out of their attention; everyone is lonely, seperated by the dividing and isolating forces of the empire. The imperial metropolis condenses people, yet they are emotionally distanced from one another. Neve’s final action in the story is to return to the rich old man, explaining to him that his nephew was trying to be good after all; a post-mortem attempt to mend but one severed connection between humans. Her entire character is defined by the trajectory that comes from wandering almost aimlessly in a desperate attempt to escape the solipsistic nature of the empire. Her defining emotional conflict is with the reality of empire, as much as her status as a brown, disabled, bisexual woman clashes with the roots of the figure of the noir detective. We see by the time of The Missing #4 that she finds a sense of fulfillment in working with the Shadow Dragons for the slaves and against the slavers, which hints at a character arc from TSoM to TM4. As Varric correctly observes, she has a heart of gold (TM4 20), one which she hides behind a particularly controlled facade, as stern as beautiful. How well her character plays out in Veilguard hinges entirely on the stories limited ability to discuss empire in meaningful terms, and the story’s willingness to further explore her emotional arc suggested between TSoM and TM4. I am furthermore worried about how well a series known for its overt centrism can handle the nuances that make her character so great, as well as fearing the reaction by gamers[TM] to having a brown, female, disabled, bisexual detective.

3. Appendix: I am gay for the way she talks with her hands and body

TM4 9

TM4 9

TM4 5

TM4 10

TM4 14

TM4 19

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 5 "Prometheus"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧༺༻ Dreams are messages from the deep ༺༻✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️| Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Giedi Prime, 2 years later - 10,190 BG

He feels so-

hopeless,

broken.

One should think he has long accepted that there is no one up there in the universe to come and save him.

No one to soothe him at night, in his dreams, after he threw up upon being summoned to quench the Baron's appetite for power, even though Feyd-Rautha's physical appearance no longer meets his tastes.

But Feyd still goes to sleep every night with childish, foolish, laughable hope, only for regular nightmares to taunt him with their sticky embrace.

When he first stopped dreaming, he threw a tantrum, not telling anyone what riddled him. He was given slave warriors to kill and new blades to blunt on human bones. Under the pretense of a training injury, Feyd had ordered the Suk Doctor to examine him, pointing him towards his brain, secretly expecting a hole there, thinking his brain might have devoured itself because he doesn't deserve goodness.

But the Suk declared, there was nothing wrong with him. Nothing aside from the usual, all the invisible things that made him rot from inside.

After a week of lonely nights, he started taking spice before sleeping, knowing that the drug opens the mind, if to prescience then maybe to shared dreams as well. And it worked! Or so he thought the first night when he found a soft hand in his and the kindest voice among all of the stars whispering: "Look, doesn't this remind you of something?"

Every time he tries to speak then, he wakes up screaming, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets that smelled like cinnamon, before he can ask any of the burning questions or say what's been tearing his heart apart. His greatest regret is that he never said I love you back.

Eventually, he comes to a numbing conclusion. That is not his beloved. That is just a memory of her.

He had to stop ingesting when his sclerae became sullied with a tint of blue that bleeds into the irises. That was one year ago.

After the spice came a phase of intense studies in the bowels of Giedi Prime's archives, ignoring the admittedly quite interesting fact that centuries of his own House's history are obliterated and nowhere to be found.

Feyd learned that 23,500 years ago, in the year 13,402 BG, a strike by an asteroid devastated Old Earth, the birthplace of humankind, making it uninhabitable until it was re-seeded with plant and animal life 42 years later and became a natural park, for humans too. 

In 200 BG, 10,400 years ago, Earth was once again rendered uninhabitable for centuries by atomics during the Butlerian Jihad which obliterated all thinking machines.

The first Zensunni wanderers, nowadays known as Fremen, are said to have originated from Old Earth and at some point fled in a grand exodus from planet to planet.

How does this information still exist, but not the location of the cradle of mankind among the stars? There are no more recent records. Humankind has spread itself so thin across the universe, the world of their origin has become naught but a fairytale.

Tonight, Feyd smiles at himself in the mirror in his room, trying to curl up the corners of his mouth like he used to, when a bed of white marble with blue pillows occupied by his woman was waiting for him and a fern was rustling in a terracotta pot. But his cheeks won't grow as round as they used to and Feyd despises how he looks and how his eyes stare back at him like frosty marbles, how his face looks like a gaunt skull with no life in it.

The lonely, demonic creature who stares back at him in the bleak mirror is denied access to the dream land and left to rot in his body, in his flesh prison.

Why does he still look at himself in the mirror every night and go to sleep with a tummy ache, only to wake up hollow and like his soul has been carved out of his chest and wonder:

Is she dead?

If she's dead, then what's the point?

Unconsciously he knows what he keeps searching for in the mirror. For any signs that he was ever lovable, or if his worst fears are true, that she abandoned him by choice.

There is no proof that Old Earth is not still out there, still inhabited by humans who may be unaware of how mankind has branched out across the galaxies.

On the other hand, there is also no proof that Feyd's woman has ever been real.

Among the stars

Tell me where you are. Tell me where you are. Tell me where you are.

"I am… here!"

Wallach IX, 10,190 BG

Around a heavy, wooden roundtable are gathered the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, flanked by the Bene Gesserit sisters Miriam and Sylvia, the Princess Irulan in place of the Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, a face dancer named Thomin to represent the Bene Tleilax and Gwyn from Ix.

"If you can't stop behaving like animals, this discussion will never find an end!" The Princess Irulan's voice bristles in a way that makes Miriam and Sylvia scoff internally at their fellow Bene Gesserit. Thomin and Gwyn are by Bene Gesserit definition, in fact, animals.

The sun on Wallach IX stands already low above the hills and cascades hazy slants of light into the private conference chamber.

"I simply don't trust gifts from the sisterhood," Thomin smiles coldly, spindly fingers folded on the table.

"She is surprisingly useless," the Reverend Mother replies with equal coldness, gazing through the dark mesh of veil. "Why would we keep her?"

"I must insist on the historical value!" Irulan chides.

"Useless for us, Irulan."

Irulan knows her former teacher doesn't actually intend to hand the woman over to the Bene Tleilax for genetic horrors, so it is really only between her and Gwyn from Ix.

"Well, as a historian, I have undoubtedly the biggest use for her among the honorable attendees."

"I strongly object," says Gwyn. "Her technological knowledge could prove invaluable to us!"

Thomin chimes in. "Her genetic information might give crucial clues as to-"

"You just said you don't trust gifts from the sisterhood, so why don't you let those who wear their real face talk," Gwyn jibes at the Tleilaxu face dancer.

Thomin deflects: "What I would like to know is why the Guild deemed it appropriate to hand over such an exceptional flotsam to the Bene Gesserit."

"Of course, they entrusted us with it," Gaius Helen Mohiam snaps. "Who else would have been capable of dealing with whatever could have been inside the sarcophagus?"

That makes the attendees grow quiet for a moment.

"What did you say her first words were?" Gwyn asks.

"I am here," Sylvia says. "Naturally, we only found what she said later."

"I'm sure she would like a friend," Irulan ponders. They're still talking about a human being after all.

"Or would you like a friend?" Miriam barbs.

"Enough of this shit," Thomin's chosen face twists into an unpleasant grimace. "I didn't come here to argue with children. Who gets the relic?!"

The woman sits in the school's relic chamber by herself, knees folded against her chest, staring up at Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night, or what's left of it, rich blues and swirly stars reduced to faded colors. She wonders if this is what will become of her too in this strange new world. Still, the painting is enough to stir her imagination.

She often thinks of her good friend and beloved Feyd and the many nights they've shared before she entered the long sleep and left him behind. She left him to die in the fires of earth from which only the cowardly could escape as pioneers aboard spaceships, venturing out to colonize the solar system when Earth suffocated beneath the smog of climate change and the rubble of bombs as starving nations tore each other apart. 

Expensive suicide is what the people on Earth had mocked the cryogenic pods which would take the pioneers to Mars and Titan as sleepers to reawaken and colonize the solar system. A new home, but only for scientists and engineers.

Some cynics even called their cryo pods sarcophagi.

Often she wonders if Feyd was able to complete his life and escape from his vile uncle, if he found the happiness he so deserved. She can't bear the thought that her poor, hairless Feyd might have eventually died of the cancer she was sure he had. She had never asked him because he had never mentioned it. It had never felt right.

She had abandoned him to live with her family in a new world. Now she is here, 24,000 years late after drifting through space in her lonely sarcophagus, sending a distress signal every few days. And she has no one. Such fundamental loneliness can only be met with apathy and busying the mind.

After the war from which she had fled in the year 2100 as of her own calendar, eventually came what is now called the Butlerian Jihad, many many centuries later. Men had revolted against artificial intelligence and now there are no more computers, only human computers. Her first reaction to that had been: In this new age, no data is anonymous unless you are the mentat. No calculation can be conducted unless you own a mentat.

She pensively traces a spot above her right ear and finds herself mourning after the necklace that was taken from her after she had thawed.

She hasn't come much further with the history books yet. There is so much to catch up on and the language first had to be learned, which had consumed most of her first one and a half years on Wallach IX. Now, two years after her arrival, she feels somewhat solid in Galach, wistfully surprised to find relics from so many Earthen languages in it.

A subtle knock on the door pulls her out of her melancholic trance and her gown rustles around her legs that are used to wearing trousers as she stands. An acolyte has come to pick her up and parade her to the assembly of people who are anonymous strangers to her. In her head, a mean voice calls it an auction.

She has already cried her quiet fury and understood that autonomy is as real as daydreams in this new world. On a chess board full of intricate pieces, she is only a block being pushed here or there, but in truth she doesn't even belong on the board.

Outside, looking to the left, she finds a fern swaying softly in a bronze pot and the memories of loving nights cut through her with such unexpected vehemence, she can hardly breathe. Guilt suffocates her.

However their dreams had passed through space and time, they are no more, and she is all alone and that thought overwhelms her as she pads through the garden with its trimmed hedges and softly gurgling water. The size of the universe overwhelms her. The number of inhabited worlds overwhelms her. The amount of history to catch up on makes her feel like a mote in God's eye and the hostile kind of hospitality from the 'sisterhood' since her jarring awakening fills her chest with a numbing rage.

In a moment like this, this order of manipulative women would pledge to recite the litany against fear, but she refuses to condition her body in such a way. And with that mindset, she hasn't even made it to the rank of acolyte.

"To be completely honest, I don't like the fact that most of the great Houses have been purposely excluded from this," Thomin notes and that makes Irulan wonder too.

"And which Houses are you missing at this roundtable?" The Reverend mother coldly inquires, her patience running thin.

"If the Harkonnens find out that we-"

"Harkonnens?" 

Five heads whip around to the new presence in the room, only the Reverend mother moves a bit more slowly and drones: "Good. You are here."

"She looks just like us," Gwyn is baffled.

"Of course, she looks just like us!" Gaius Helen Mohiam snaps. "What did you expect?"

"Something more primitive perhaps, I don't know."

"You're disgracing your own intelligence in front of our guest."

"Did you just say Harkonnens?" The guest in question inquires, her expression so blatantly haunted that it would make even the most untalented acolyte grow hot with shame, because anyone taught by the sisterhood should be able to mask that.

"Yes, child, what do you know about the Harkonnens?" Mohiam probes.

The sisterhood has let her pick her own studies after teaching her the basics of Galach. She had gone for science first, then art. The reverend mother had disapprovingly clicked her tongue, as contemporary politics and religion would have been the right choice. It proves unequivocally that the woman is of lesser intellect.

"Do you know someone named Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen?" Her voice trembles like the strings of an off-tune baliset.

"He is the na-Baron of Giedi Prime?" Gwyn replies as if the inquiry was a test for the attendees. 

What no one expects is for the relic to break down crying so hard, she sounds like a wounded animal, primitive like Gwyn had suggested, producing gut-wrenching noise. The Bene Gesserit sisters turn away with disdain, except for Irulan whose face is painted by confused compassion.

The woman's legs give out and she unceremoniously squats down on the floor, covering her grimacing face with her arms. For the longest time, the attendees think she's merely sobbing, but after a while the sound warps into tearful but distinct laughter as she sways herself back and forth.

"He lives now?" She peeks at the blurry roundtable through the haze of tears. How could this be? Across not only space but time they've communicated simultaneously in their sleep. According to Einstein's theory of relativity, time is supposed to stretch and compress depending on relative motion, but never run backwards. Feyd should have never been able to talk to her.

Unless he really is her macroscopic, quantum-entangled twin, a phenomenon which Einstein himself had described as 'spooky action at a distance', though that was referring to microscopic particles. 

"Speak plainly! Who is Feyd-Rautha to you?" Mohiam demands.

Too bad, Irulan catches herself thinking. The woman already has a friend.

"I saw him," she yells. "I've talked to him so many times, I dreamed about him every night back home, for months! He's my friend. I love him." It is ridiculously easy to admit that, even in front of a council of semi-hostile strangers.

"Hm. Tell me something about him, child."

She draws a quick and trembling breath. "Feyd is a-about this tall, blue eyes, pale skin, no hair, v-very sweet and kind, oh God, I miss him so much, please just bring me to him~"

"That could be a lot of people, but definitely not Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen." The reverend mother purses her lips under her veil. "Tell us something more distinct."

"He's being abused by his uncle," she snaps with such venom that even the old Bene Gesserit's fingers briefly clench in her lap. The roundtable grows still and only the woman's shoulders heave with hard breaths.

"Then he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen." 

Upon that, the woman nearly bursts out laughing. How ridiculous, how cruel that this is what defines him in public and makes him recognizable, not all the sweet traits of his. People of power know of his abuse and no one deems it appropriate to take action against it?

The reverend mother continues. "Your dreams were visions of the future. This is what we call prescience. That you are prescient surprises me."

"They were dreams, not visions! We've talked about current events and each night we could remember the previous ones." She struggles to find the right words in Galach. "We had agency!"

But the reverend mother isn't listening to her anymore, coming to a staggering conclusion with her frighteningly sharp wit. If she speaks the truth, everything points towards their relic being a primordial Bene Gesserit, erratically skilled even without any training. Mohiam turns to her sisters and ponders: "If she was capable of prescience, perhaps her nervous system developed other abilities as well."

"You suggest she performed Prana Bindu while contained in the cryo pod?" Irulan concludes.

"It would explain how her cells survived it for 24,000 years," Sylvia muses. "Her cells should have degenerated irrevocably thousands of years ago."

The four Bene Gesserit in the room turn towards the woman and ogle her like a thing from a curiosity cabinet. If she weren't so emotionally frayed, she would feel flayed by the many scheming glances.

"This changes everything," Mohiam decides. "The guests may return to their guest rooms. I wish you a swift and safe departure tomorrow." 

"I thought we had a deal," Thomin complains and kicks his chair back.

"We were far from having a deal," Mohiam says coldly.

Gwyn laments: "At least let me have a look at the cryo pod or the necklac-"

"A swift departure." The reverend mother repeats and tilts her head subtly towards Irulan, emphasizing that this includes her too. Irulan's lips quiver briefly before she straightens her back, casting a longing look at the disheveled woman before she leaves with the others.

As soon as it's only the three familiar faces from the sisterhood, the relic yells: "I refuse to stay here. I don't want your training or even your hospitality, I only want him! More than anything in the world."

To her surprise, the two younger ones flinch and glower, as if suspecting her voice might break out with new unforeseen powers.

"You love him?" Sylvia doubts but is swiftly silenced by the reverend mother with an acute sweep of the hand.

"Quiet," Mohiam addresses the relic "There's no need to throw a tantrum. You will be brought to him as soon as the circumstances allow."

"I- Oh." The woman stands helplessly like a lost child, hands clutched in front of her pelvis as fresh tears well and soon stream down her cheeks and quivering lips. She had expected more resistance, more cruelty.

"Go now. We will discuss more soon." Dumbstruck, she does as instructed and pads out of the conference room, mind caught in a limbo of disbelief and rejoicing.

The three Bene Gesserit remain.

"She must be controlled. I don't have to remind you that one of her first inquiries when she understood Galach was about computers and where to find one."

"She will be distracted, if she really loves Feyd-Rautha."

"Isn't that careless?" Miriam is baffled. Obviously, they shouldn't let the woman go to Giedi Prime and slip out of their immediate reach before conditioning her mind and body to a proper training.

"Her DNA is mysteriously rogue but powerful. That's all we need to know."

Miriam and Sylvia understand now. The reverend mother doesn't intend to train the wayward woman from Old Earth who is too obsessed with her old ways to indulge in the Bene Gesserit conditioning. She only means to breed her with Feyd-Rautha, so that the child may be trained. Since Lady Jessica disobeyed the sisterhood's order and denied them a daughter, there is currently no fitting prospect for the Harkonnen heir anyway.

"And if Feyd didn't share her visions?"

"We will soon find out. Even if he didn't, perhaps he can be warmed up to someone who is so... blatantly and bizarrely smitten with him." The reverend mother can't help the tiny twitch of her upper lip, betraying her disdain.

"So, we will contact House Harkonnen?"

"No," Mohiam declares. "The old Baron will deny their union if we are the ones who initiate. Let the rumors spread and let Feyd-Rautha do the work for us."

In Greek mythology, Prometheus (/prəˈmiːθiəs/; Ancient Greek: Προμηθεύς, [promɛːtʰéu̯s], possibly meaning "forethought") is one of the Titans and a god of fire. Prometheus is best known for defying the Olympian gods by taking fire from them and giving it to humanity in the form of technology, knowledge and, more generally, civilization. Prometheus is known for his intelligence and for being a champion of humankind and is also generally seen as the author of the human arts and sciences.

A/N: The time it took me to get my Dune lore sorted and throw around the dates from the confoozing BG/AG calendar was longer than it took me to write the actual chapter 😭 Also, Frank Herbert, please don't slap me, I tried to match the vibe of the secret meeting in the beginning of Dune Messiah, but I have nothing on thee, Frank Herbert 🧎

P.S. No breeding in this fic, but the Bene Gesserit sure do dream of it.

TAG LIST: @nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @charmingballoon, @sebastianswallows

Do let me know if u want me to tag u 👉👈

[briebysabs]

Across the Spider-verse spoilers///

Miguel fine af but Miles really should’ve beat his fat ass harder cuz wtf you mean calling him a mistake and blaming him for his Peter dying?? I’m sorry that pissed me off so much like Miles didn’t ask to get bit. Miles isn’t the one who made the collider, Miles didn’t bring Earth 42’s spider to his world GOD.

There’s a lot of anger, resentment, projecting and borderline envy going on. But I really liked how complex Miguel was in this movie. But some of y’all need to see he is wrong or at the very least, his way of going about things is wrong. Also explain to me why I’ve seen more hate targeted towards Gwen, someone who was conflicted the entire movie and Jess. Who should’ve stuck up for Gwen but clearly shows remorse at the end. More than Miguel bro make it make sense.

If you’re able to understand where Miguel is coming from, why can’t you also understand Gwen? Or did people straight up ignore the first 15 minutes of the movie? Like I too was disappointed with Gwen’s lying but one of the main reasons she did all this IS SO SHE DOESN’T GET SENT BACK HOME.

Where her father knows her identity and tried to arrest her. Where she currently has nowhere to live and crashes at Hobie’s place. How about we call out the adults that used that as leverage against a 16-17 year old, adults that watched it all go down too. Like people act like she had it against Miles when you see clearly that she only wants to protect him. She can’t lose another friend and obviously it backfired on her.

This is an amazing film but I’ve heard some absolutely dumb takes already. Some going as far to call Miguel racist WHICH MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. Yeah we were joking and there are obvious metaphors to the ‘Miles being a Afro-latino Spider Man backlash’ but no idiot, he doesn’t hate black people. Miles could be any race Miguel would still react the way he did.

[justagalwhowrites]

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.)

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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!

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