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justagalwhowrites · 2 days ago

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The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 4: Past and Present

Being in Los Angeles is a challenge - and an opportunity - for you and Joel. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 2 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Depiction of someone experiencing a trigger. Remembered child death. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 12.6k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter

September 26, 2019

“Joel.”

The sound of his brother’s voice pulled him out of his own head. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, half sitting, half leaning against the window ledge, staring at his daughter’s body. The blood on his skin was drying now, starting to flake off in some places and get caught on the hair of his arms and chest in others. It pulled slightly when he moved, an odd sensation that tied him to his body in a way he could hardly stand.

It was still dark outside, which made sense. He wasn’t sure the sun was going to rise. Such a thing seemed impossible now, that the earth would still be turning at a time like this.

“Did you hear me?” Tommy asked, coming and standing next to him.

It took him a moment to process that question. Tommy sounded so far away, like he was speaking to him above water while Joel was deep below it.

That would be a welcome change, he thought. Then he could just open his mouth and pull all that water into his lungs and never have to breathe or think or be ever again.

He couldn’t do that here. The window behind him couldn’t even open – he’d tried. Just to see if he could get some fresh air, he told himself. The fact that he was 10 stories up, that the fall would almost certainly kill him, was just a fringe benefit.

He couldn’t keep going like this, he knew that already. He kept picturing it in his head, over and over and over again.

Him and Tommy leaving the bar. Tommy driving him home. Stopping a few blocks away from his house, finding the car a tangled mass of metal in the street.

He’d just frowned at first, things not quite clicking. There was something familiar about the car, something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Jesus,” Tommy said, pulling over and getting out his cell phone, already moving to call 9-1-1. “Be a miracle if anyone survived that…”

Joel saw it then, the bumper sticker on the back of the sedan. Red with white lettering, “Blow it hard & finger it fast” with a clarinet in the middle. He remembered it because, the first time he saw it, he told Sarah he didn’t think that kind of bumper sticker was appropriate for a teenaged girl’s car.

“Dad,” she’d rolled her eyes. “It’s just a joke. Emma plays clarinet, don’t be so lame.”

He’d just sighed and dropped it. It’s not like he could tell the girl to take it off, she wasn’t his daughter. Besides, what trouble was one bumper sticker?

He knew that bumper sticker. Sarah had gotten in the car with that bumper sticker this morning. The car with that bumper sticker was supposed to be taking her home.

Joel was out of the truck before he really knew what he was doing, running toward the accident as fast as he could, praying that Sarah was already safely at the house, that Emma had dropped her off and was going home herself when she was hit.

“Joel!” Tommy yelled after him, getting out of the car, too. “What…”

“That’s Sarah’s friend’s car!” He yelled back to his brother, making it to the passenger side door – the side with the worst of the damage – swearing up and down to every god he’d ever known that he would do anything – anything they asked, anything at all – if that seat was empty, if Sarah was safely at home waiting for him.

His prayers went unanswered.

“No,” Joel breathed, his heart pounding. He pulled at the door but it wouldn’t move, locked shut. He went to the back seat and threw himself against the window until the spidering glass caved. He thrust his arm inside, ignoring the cuts from the glass on his skin, fumbling for the handle until he forced the warped door open. He wasn’t sure where to touch her, a bloody splotch on her stomach that seemed to be spreading. One of her arms was at an odd angle, one of her legs too. But she was breathing, almost hyperventilating, her eyes closed, one hand tight to her stomach. “You’re OK baby girl, you’re OK, just move your hand for me, just…”

“Dad?” She opened her eyes, wide and afraid. “Dad, I…”

“I know,” he said quickly, fighting to keep his voice calm. “I know, I know, just move your hand baby girl, just…”

She pulled her trembling palm away from her stomach and he saw the wound, a chunk of metal embedded into her skin so deep he could barely see it. She reached for him, the blood on her hand soaking into his shirt so he could feel it on his skin.

“You’re gonna be OK,” he said, looking from her stomach to her face. “It’s OK, you’re gonna be OK.”

He had to stop the bleeding. He unbuckled her seatbelt so he could get clearer access to her and pressed his hand into her stomach, making her cry out.

“I know,” he said. “I know it hurts, I know baby, I know. Just gotta hang on for me, OK? Just hang on, you’re gonna be OK.”

Her fingers twisted in the collar of his shirt and she pulled herself against him. He could smell the blood and gasoline and smoke. He had to move her, before a fire started and made this worse he had to get her away from here.

“Just hold on,” he said. “I gotta move you…” He pulled her tight against his body and she screamed, her shallow breaths coming quicker. “I know baby girl, I know, I know, it hurts, I know, I just…”

He looked behind him to find Tommy, hoping to have some idea of when help was coming. But his brother was just standing there, watching Joel, a broken look on his face.

“Tommy,” Joel looked at him, holding Sarah as tight as he could to his chest. Her blood was warm on his skin. “Tommy, help me!”

“Joel,” he said softly. “I… I can’t, I’m sorry, there’s nothing…”

His eyes were on Sarah and Joel realized, suddenly, that she was quiet.

He looked down to her and she had gone still in his arms, her head lolling back lifelessly. Her fingers weren’t clutching his shirt anymore, she wasn’t crying. She wasn’t even breathing.

“No,” he said, his grip on her tightening. “No, no, no, no, no! C’mon baby girl, you’re OK, you’re gonna be OK, you’re…”

He looked back to his brother, Tommy crying silently. There had to be something he could do, something one of them could do.

But there wasn’t. Joel just clung to his daughter’s body until the police and EMTs came, a paramedic pulling her body from his arms before trying to revive her.

It was no use.

Joel stayed with her on the ambulance ride to the hospital. No lights, no sirens, no racing through the streets. There was just quiet as he looked at the sheet that covered his only child, the little girl he’d held when she first came into the world, the one who had wrapped one tiny, perfect hand around his finger when she was just hours old.

She was still there, just a few feet away from him. He’d refused to let them take her to the morgue, the outline of her visible through the sheet. He needed to be next to her as long as possible, he couldn’t let them just take her away and put her somewhere cold and dark. He needed to be next to her, take care of her.

They left him alone with her when he made it clear he wasn’t going to just let them take her away from him. Tommy took over then, talking with police and people at the hospital. Joel wasn’t sure why he bothered.

What did any of this matter without her?

Joel cleared his throat, Tommy still watching him cautiously.

“No,” he said. “M’sorry. What’s happenin’?”

“Said I got some news,” he said. “Some good. Sounds like Emma’s gonna make it, her parents are here…”

Joel nodded. Part of him knew he should feel good about that but he was having a hard time doing it. Of course it was good that another child hadn’t died but fuck, he hated how much he’d do anything - including sacrifice that other child - to bring his own back.

“What else,” Joel said when Tommy didn’t continue.

“Well,” he said before he sighed and crossed his arms. “Sounds like we know the car that hit ‘em…”

Joel stood up straight then, suddenly alert, ready to take care of it. Whoever it was had been in good enough shape to drive away from the scene which meant they were probably still alive. He’d change that. He’d like changing that.

“They got some video from security cameras and shit nearby,” he said. “Some SUV just barreling through, swervin’ all over the road, probably drunk but…”

He trailed off.

“But?” Joel asked, his voice dark.

“But,” Tommy said again. “The plate they pulled was reported stolen three days ago, they got no idea who’s driving it. That asshole ditches the car, they got no way of finding ‘em.”

“What’s that mean?” Joel asked, looking toward where Sarah lay, still and cold under the sheet. “Are they not gonna even fuckin’ look?”

“No, they’re lookin’,” Tommy said, putting his hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Just… not sure what they’ll be able to actually find.”

Joel clenched his jaw, his arms crossed, fingers digging almost painfully into his biceps, his eyes never leaving the place where is daughter lay.

If the police wouldn’t get justice, fine, he would. He’d find it and he’d take it. He’d find it and he’d take it from anyone who deserved it. As long as it protected someone who needed it, he didn’t care if it killed him.

October, 2024

There was an Oscar in his closet.

He stood there, the t-shirts from his duffle dangling from his hand, staring at the smudged and dusty but still glimmering gold of the statuette sitting in the middle of a high shelf at the back.

There was a fucking Oscar in his closet.

Was this your idea of a joke? Were you trying to be fucking funny, leaving it here for him to find?

He went to it, setting the shirts on top of the chest of drawers before getting the statue down. It was high enough that he had to stretch to reach it, and he was almost surprised when his fingers closed around cool metal. He’d half expected it to be fake, some plastic bullshit you’d put there to try to taunt him in some way, but if it was a fake, it was a damn good one. It was metal and far heavier than he was expecting as he pulled it down to examine it. You’d set it so it was facing the wall and he turned it over to see the front of it, a plaque on the base.

Your name was engraved on it, as well as “Academy Award” and “Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role” and “The District.”

It’s not like he knew a goddamn thing about things like Oscars but this seemed real. And as much pleasure as you seemed to take in annoying - or even just puzzling - him, Joel couldn’t come up with a reason why you’d go through the trouble of making a fake one to stick in his closet for whatever reason.

You’d just… left your Oscar in his closet.

A while ago, from the look of the damn thing. Upon closer inspection, it was obvious it had been sitting there for awhile. It was tarnished in places and dust had settled heavily into the crevices. It didn’t seem like someone had moved it here recently. It seemed like you’d just put it here one day and left it for him to find years later.

He just shook his head a little, going and dropping the statuette on the bed - the thing bouncing heavily before settling into the mattress - before unpacking the rest of his bag.

He’d only been in LA a few hours and he already missed Texas.

You’d been mobbed at the airport, swarms of photographers descending on you as you left the secured area.

Here, at least, security and police seemed to expect this behavior. Celebrities flew in and out all the time, and it didn’t take much for Joel to usher you through the crowd, your chin tucked into your chest, your carryon bag over your arm.

A car with a driver was waiting for you and the two of you went straight for it, you climbing in first and Joel sliding it next to you, snapping the door shut as quickly as he could. But, as badly as he wanted to get away from the chaos of this place, he was surprised when the car started moving almost immediately.

“They’ll deliver the luggage to the house,” you said, apparently reading his mind. “Not exactly smart to just stand there at baggage claim and wait for it as I’m sure you can imagine.”

He scoffed at that, crossing his arms and settling into his corner of the back seat of whatever fucking luxury SUV this was.

“Someone just takes care of everything for you, don’t they?” He asked, probably sharper than he should have.

You laughed once, derisively.

“Something like that.”

In truth, this whole thing made him uncomfortable. He was in a place he didn’t know, one full of people who were obsessed with his charge - not just whoever was stalking you but the whole of the world, it seemed - and he didn’t even have his fucking gun.

He planted his feet more firmly on the floor of the car before texting Tommy that the two of you had made it to LA and were en route to your house.

You relaxed more, now that it was just you, Joel, and an oddly silent driver. You just watched out the window, the streetlights casting a glow on your skin as the car made its way slowly through the gridlock of Los Angeles. Joel ground his teeth, his whole body drawn tight and tense, waiting for some release after the chaos of the airport set him on edge.

But none came, the driver eventually pulling up to a surprisingly modest house in nice neighborhood.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but it was more than this - a house that looked not much bigger than his own back in Austin. Unlike your place back in Texas that sat on several acres and had no immediate neighbors, there were other houses close to yours on this quiet street. It wasn’t a gated community, there was no full fence around the place, it was just a suburban house on a suburban street.

Joel followed you inside, the lights on and jazz playing somewhere. He frowned, looking around, half expecting someone to come out and greet you.

No one did, though, and he just hovered in the entry way, watching as you set down your bag and lit candles.

“Can I help you?” You asked after a moment, your brows raised.

“No,” he said, a little defensive. But you didn’t move, just raised your brows further and he sighed. “This place just… ain’t what I was expecting.”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing a little. “Before I had Ellie, it was just me, I didn’t need anything insane. When I moved to Texas, I just wanted a place where Ellie would have plenty of space and want to invite her friends to.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“That’s… nice.”

You shrugged.

“Your room is down the hall,” you said. “There are only three bedrooms here, I’m not sure which of the spares they set up for you but one should be made up. They stocked the kitchen, too, but there’s no one here all the time like Esmo is so you’ll have to look after yourself. Just… make yourself at home.”

The luggage was delivered not long after - his gun safely inside - and Joel went to get settled in when he found the damn Oscar.

It stared him down as he talked with Tommy about logistics, about exactly what the hell he was getting into out here.

“There’s fuckin’ nothing here infrastructure wise,” Joel said, his foot bouncing impatiently. The statuette rolled into his side as he sat on the bed and he glared at it before moving it to a bookshelf covered in impersonal knick knacks that sat opposite the bed. “Not even a goddamn chain link fence between the front door and the street, Tommy.”

“Yeah, well, I told you it was a different set up,” he said, at least having the dignity to sound sheepish as he did.

“Different,” Joel said. “Not a security risk.”

“She’s kept where she lives pretty private and you have the resources you need to handle it. You’ve got the driver,” Tommy said. “And the auxiliary guards outside. And you know what you’re doing. You’ll be fine.”

Once they were off the phone, Tommy sent Joel a roundup of tabloid coverage about your arrival to LA and, once he got past the surreal moment of seeing pictures of himself online like that, he tried to analyze what he was seeing. Speculation was rampant about where you’d been, screenshots of tweets sharing photos of you - or someone people thought was you - scattered throughout the coverage.

People seemed to have pinpointed the reason you were back in LA but no one seemed to know why you’d left or where, exactly, you’d been. He sighed, staring at the picture of him walking behind you, trying to shield you from camera flashes as much as possible.

What the hell was he getting into?

He was exhausted but it took him a while to fall asleep in the too comfortable bed, your Oscar watching him from the shelf nearby.

So it was a rude awakening when he was jerked back into consciousness by a twangy guitar. It took him a moment to realize where he was, still dark outside, but the music loud enough that he heard the rattle of the lightbulb in the lamp by his bed.

“What the…” he forced himself up, grabbing is gun and loading it before moving quickly but cautiously toward the main part of the house, the music growing louder as he went.

“And it didn’t take ‘em long to decide, that Earl had to die!”

You were more yelling the lyrics than actually singing them and Joel found you in the kitchen with a blonde woman who was also singing, the two of you jumping around like you were at a fucking concert at six in the goddamn morning.

“You’re feelin’ weak?” The two of you sang at each other, you using the handle of a spatula as a microphone. “Why don’t you lay down and sleep, Earl?”

He rolled his eyes, lowering the gun.

“Hey!” He yelled over the music.

The two of you stopped and turned to face him, both of you in skintight athletic wear and covered in a sheen of sweat. You laughed and winced and reached out and tapped some touch screen, making the music stop.

“The hell are you doin’?” He asked, looking you over and trying to ignore how fucking good you looked right then.

“Babe,” the woman - who Joel suddenly realized he knew, a singer that Sarah had been obsessed with - leaned over and half whispered, half said to you. “There’s a shirtless man with a gun in your kitchen.”

“Yeah, that’d be Big Miller,” you said, looking him up and down. “Shirtless but pajama pants? Interesting, totally thought you’d be a boxers and nothing else guy…”

He narrowed his eyes.

“What’s a Big Miller?” The woman asked, her blonde ponytail reaching almost to her waist.

“My bodyguard,” you said. “He’s a bit over the top, though because, really? A gun? Come on.”

“You’re the one who’s got some psycho writin’ her letters,” he snapped. “The hell was I supposed to know it was you acting like a fucking teenager?”

“This isn’t a teenager thing,” you said. “This is a ‘your friend just go dumped so you sing about murdering him and then running away to start a small business’ thing. Which you wouldn’t understand because you have no friends.”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Why are you up this early? I got your itinerary, you don’t have anywhere to be until ten.”

“Well actually, we have a pap walk in about,” you looked at your smart watch. “Forty-five minutes. Which is why Tanya is here. By the way, Tanya, that’s Big Miller but you can call him Joel if you really want.”

She looked at him from head to toe and then shrugged before looking at you.

“I’m single again,” she said. “I’d be down to find out just how big Miller is…”

He looked quickly between the two of you and then the two of you laughed, practically falling over, hanging on each other to stay upright.

“The look on your face!” You were still laughing, gasping for breath. “Oh my God!”

“That’s not funny,” he scowled.

“No, it’s hilarious,” Tanya said, straightening up. “Who knew we were such a threat?”

“Oh, shit,” you said, turning to the stove and doing something Joel couldn’t see with a pan. “Almost burned it… Want some egg whites, Big Miller?”

“What?” He asked. “No, I…” He looked between the two of you again. “Did you work out?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, looking back over your shoulder toward him. “We went for a run.”

“Went?” He asked. “Went where.”

“Just a few miles around the neighborhood,” Tanya waved him off. “Nothing crazy.”

He put the gun down on the counter with a little too much force.

“You went out without me?” He stalked over to you. “The hell were you thinking!”

“That I needed to go for a run,” you said, brows raised, incredulous. “And it’s best to go before the sun is up because then it’s too hot.”

“Do you really think you’re safe here?” He asked. “That the guy who’s been sending shit to your house just ain’t gonna come by when everyone on the fuckin’ planet knows you got here last night?”

“I think this whole thing is overblown and that there isn’t a threat,” you said. “And Ellie isn’t here so it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“It’s really not bad,” Tanya said, looking between the two of you. “It’s a quiet neighborhood, no paparazzi or fans or anything…”

“But we do have that pap walk in a few,” you said, pulling the egg whites off the burner and tipping them onto plates. “And we still need to drive there.”

“The fuck is a pap walk,” Joel asked, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, it’s where we tell the paparazzi where we’ll be and when we’ll be there so they can grab their photos,” Tanya said. “In exchange, they don’t follow us all the time. With the two of us there, there’s going to be a lot of them.”

“And were you planning to say anything about this?” Joel asked, incredulous. “Or were you just gonna take off without telling your fuckin’ security team?”

“You seem mad,” you said, spearing some eggs on the end of your fork.

“I seem mad,” Joel said, grinding his teeth, his eyes narrowing.

“You seem mad,” you again, eating the eggs. “You should work on that.”

He clenched his jaw, trying to resist the urge to yell before stalking off to his room to get dressed. Because if he was going with you on this fucking pap walk or whatever the fuck it was called, he’d need to be dressed.

The whole thing was a surprisingly simple affair. He followed behind you and Tanya with one of the auxiliary guards, a man named Nick who’d been camped in front of your house, to some smoothie place in the city.

He watched as the two of you got out of Tanya’s car, laughing and touching each other as you angled your bodies toward the flashing cameras while pretending like they weren’t there. It was a strange dance, Joel sitting in the car with his nails digging into his palm, his jaw clenched tight, the sense that he should be between you and the photographers you were putting on some strange performance for all but taking over. His heart raced, his chest getting tight. He was so out of control in this situation, you were so far away from him that there was very little he could do to reach you if he needed to.

Yes, the whole thing was - relatively - safe. It was early, there was almost no one here but you, the paparazzi and a few other overly dedicated men and women in workout gear. He’d texted Tommy while he got dressed and Tommy assured him that he’d gone over this with your manager, that this was fairly typical and that, no, Joel shouldn’t go inside with you but it didn’t make him any less uneasy.

What if something happened, right now? What if the man who’d been sending you letters found you here? What if something else happened like a shooting or a robbery or any number of other, mundane evils that happened every day? He’d be too far away to get to you in time, too far away to save you and, for some reason, that terrified him.

He’d just decided to ignore you and his brother and your damn manager and go after you, anyway, when you and Tanya came outside again, clear plastic cups filled with green shit in your hands. Joel took a deep breath then, trying to calm himself down.

But then, a paparazzo darted forward, camera raised, getting in your face, making you flinch back. A thrill of fear shot through him, the feeling shocking and foreign now. He was too far from you, he couldn’t get to you fast enough from here. He was supposed to be keeping you safe, he didn’t have much left he felt like he had to do in this life but that was one of them and, right here, right now, he could fail.

Joel moved quickly, throwing open the door and starting for you, but your eyes met his and you gave a subtle shake of your head, navigating around the photographer and moving quickly for the car, the illusion of you ignoring them shattered.

Tanya drove quickly and Joel’s car followed, the only thing keeping him from beating the shit out of that photographer the fact that you were only getting further away from him.

Joel slammed the door behind him as he stalked into your house to find you, standing in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone.

“I got you a smoothie,” you said, glancing up for a second and looking back at your phone before you frowned and actually looked at him. “Are you OK?”

“You are not doing that shit again, understand?” He snapped.

“Not… getting you a smoothie?” You asked.

“You know what the hell I mean,” he said. “You can’t just go off on your own like that, I don’t give a shit what your manager says, I don’t care how fuckin’ typical it is, you’re staying close to me. End of story.”

You watched him for a moment before you smiled, looking like you were trying not to laugh.

“What.”

“You were worried,” you said. “Big Miller, afraid! Who knew it was possible…”

“I was not afraid,” he said, probably too quickly. “I just don’t want you dying on my damn watch. If you’re outside, I’m next to you. Deal with it.”

He stalked off to his bedroom, your stupid Oscar there in his face when got there. He grabbed it and went back to the kitchen, smacking it down on the counter, making you jump.

“I don’t need you to remind me how fuckin’ great you are,” he said. “Put that in your damn trophy case. And don’t leave this house without me.”

He retreated to his room and heard your shower start a few minutes later and he felt like he could relax then. He wouldn’t put it past you to try and sneak out of your own fucking house, just to spite him. If you weren’t careful, your obsession with being right and being in control was going to get you fucking killed.

He tried not to think about how uneasy that thought made him.

Joel stayed in his room, listening for you as you moved through the house, until it was almost time to leave for your first appointment of the day, some lunch with your agent. He found you in the kitchen again, the Oscar nowhere to be seen.

Your hair and makeup were done and you were wearing jeans and some shirt that looked more like a corset or some kind of lingerie and it forced Joel to notice just how fucking beautiful you were.

It still caught him off guard, these moments where he couldn’t avoid that cold fact. You were beautiful, unquestionably so, but he’d grown blind to it in certain ways. He was around you all the time now so it was a fact that faded to the background more often than not. Especially since, most of the time he saw you, you weren’t trying to be beautiful, you were just existing in the form you had.

Now, though, you were clearly trying and it hit him hard. The sculpture of your face, the glow of your skin, the curve of your body was right there, impossible to ignore.

“Am I allowed to leave the house now?” You asked, an almost smug look on your face.

“No,” Joel said, more to be an asshole than anything else.

“You’re insufferable,” you said, ignoring him and stalking toward the door, the spikes of your heels loud on the hardwood floor, throwing a leather jacket on over your all too exposing top. “The driver’s here, are you coming or not.”

You were silent beside him until the pair of you got into the gridlock of the city.

“You’ll have to wait in the car,” you began but he cut you off.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

You looked at him, a stern expression on your face.

“There are going to be photographers there,” you said. “I’ve already been seen with you at the airport, I really don’t need someone making up some bullshit story about why you’re with me if we’re trying to keep the extra security bit quiet.”

“Too bad,” he shrugged. “Your optics aren’t my concern. Your safety is.”

“Because I’m sure people at the fucking Ivy are such a threat,” you snapped.

“We either do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said. “The easy way is I come inside with you and you can say I’m a friend or some asshole on your team, I don’t really care. The other way is I put you over my shoulder and haul your ass back to the car because you don’t listen. Don’t make much difference to me.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” You twisted to face him now, your painfully beautiful face tight in anger. “What did I ever do to you?”

“I’m just trying to do my job,” he replied. “Don’t make it difficult and we won’t have a problem.”

“Fine,” you sat back in your seat forcefully. “Come inside then, just don’t come crying to me when the press starts to bother you.”

He resisted the urge to smirk. He might be in your territory but that didn’t mean he was just going to let you win every damn conflict.

The car dropped you off in front of the restaurant and the photographers were waiting for you. Joel watched as your expression went blank for a moment and then you painted a carefree smile on your face before you opened the door, smiling and waving with Joel following close behind.

Of course, the hostess led you directly to your table without needing to ask anything because everyone was always just ready to do exactly what you needed, all the time. Joel wondered what that must be like, to be so beautiful and so rich and so famous that the entire world shifted just to please you.

There was a man already seated there, watching as the waiter set up an ice bucket and showed him the bottle of wine. He nodded and then noticed you there, looking you up and down in a way that set Joel’s teeth on edge before standing up and calling your name in an almost sing song voice that grated on him.

“Hey Leo,” you smiled and he reached to hug you. You hugged him back, kissing his cheek as you did, the man seeming to notice Joel then, his face falling a little as he did.

“And who is this you’ve brought me?” He asked. “I’m sure he’s not some hopeful…”

“I’m sure Quinn mentioned some additional…” you trailed off.

“Ah,” he said, seeming to understand but then frowning. “I didn’t think they’d be quite so… hands on.”

“Neither did I,” you smiled, a little self satisfied. “But, Joel, this is my agent, Leo Musgrave. Leo, this is Joel, my shadow for the last few weeks.”

“Good to meet you,” Leo said, offering Joel his hand. He took it, an odd satisfaction settling over him at the way his palm dwarfed Leo’s and the way the other man had to tilt his chin up to meet Joel’s gaze. “But I can assure you, she’s perfectly safe with me.”

“Ain’t you I’m worried about,” Joel said, gripping the man’s hand a little too tightly, looking him up and down in a pointed way. An odd expression flitted over the man’s face, one Joel couldn’t place, but it passed quickly.

“Good,” he said, smiling again before going to pull your chair out for you. “Because I know we both just want what’s best for our girl here. Speaking of which, I got that rosé you like…”

“Thank God,” you smiled, taking your seat. Joel sat beside you, surveying the area quickly, noting the points of entry and egress, where people could be concealed. “I’ve got media at one, I could use a drink.”

The two of you talked and you ordered a salad and Joel got a steak just to spite the asshole sitting across from him. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t like him but he didn’t. Something about this man rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on your breasts when you were talking to the waiter, maybe it was the way he sat back in his seat, lounging like he owned the place, Joel didn’t like him.

“Oh,” Leo said, just as the waiter turned to leave. “We’ve got one more joining, if you could bring an old fashioned when you can, whatever’s top shelf.”

Joel watched your face fall for a fraction of a second, the moment so fast he probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all if he wasn’t so used to you now.

“Who’s joining us?” You asked once the waiter was out of earshot.

“Remember how I said I was working on bringing in another producer for Savage Starlight?” He asked. “Someone who can make sure it doesn’t turn into the typical superhero bullshit and keeps its strong narrative structure, doesn’t ditch the character development in favor of big set pieces?”

“Right,” you said slowly, your hand clenching around the stem of your wine glass.

“Well, we’re bringing in the best man for the job,” he smiled, proud. “And you were a big selling point, he’s been dying to work with you again… Henry!”

Joel didn’t turn to see who was making his way toward the table, Leo standing up to greet him. Instead, his eyes were on you. Your eyes were wide, your hands in your lap, fingers pressed tight into your thighs, breaths coming in fearful little pants.

“Leo!” A booming voice at Joel’s shoulder said. “It’s been too long.”

“We really should do this more,” Leo hugged the new arrival, clapping him on the back. “Everything you touch is magic, swear to God.”

“Could say the same thing about you,” the man said, stepping back from Leo and turning to face you and Joel, though he didn’t seem to be paying Joel any mind at all. It didn’t make a difference. Joel immediately disliked him, too. He was older, in his 50s at least, wearing a sport coat and an ostentatious ring, his bald head shining and he was looking at you like you were something he could consume. “You’ve got the best talent in the industry right here. How’ve you been, sweetheart?”

“Oh, you know me,” you said, a casual and cool smile on your face, almost no sign of your momentary discomfort from just a second earlier. You got up and went to greet him, keeping your hands at his biceps but kissing both his cheeks all the same. His hand went around your back, spreading over you, his pinky slipping inside the waist of your jeans before you pulled back from him. Joel’s hands tightened into fists. “Same as ever.”

“So, causing trouble,” he said, taking his seat.

You laughed.

“Something like that,” you said, sitting down and relaxing back into your chair. But the hand closest to Joel went back in your lap, clenched into a fist so tight he could see the strain of your skin over your knuckles.

The man seemed to actually notice Joel then, looking him up and down.

“And who’s this?” He asked, directing the question at you and Leo, not Joel.

“Just a little added security,” your smile shifted to something almost daring and triumphant, the hand in your lap still drawn tight. “Never can be too careful anymore. Don’t worry, he’s got a very thorough NDA.”

“Not worried about anything in particular, are you?” He asked, brows raised. “Because you could always come stay with me, my security is very good and my door is always open for you, you know that.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” you said. “But let’s not bog things down. Tell me, Henry, what brings you into this project? It doesn’t seem like your area of expertise.”

“Not cerebral enough for me?” He asked, an almost teasing edge to his voice.

“I’d say not up its own ass, but…” you said in a winking tone but something told Joel you meant it differently than that.

Henry laughed all the same, as though he was in on the joke.

“You always knew my taste,” he said. “But, truth is, I’ve been seeking out some projects that look to have the prospect of greater commercial success without sacrificing the art of storytelling. This seemed like the perfect project, especially once I knew you were attached.”

You hummed, nodding slowly, and Joel just sat there and watched as you and your agent and this new asshole discussed creative choices and shit like points on the back end, the whole time some part of you stiff and strained. Something was off. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or irritation or that you were just caught off guard by someone else being added to the mix but something about this was bothering you. He just wasn’t sure what it was.

Regardless, it set him on edge. He tried to focus on the potential threats from around you as you picked at your salad, more moving the food around than eating it, until it was time to go.

Henry moved around Joel to you as you draped your jacket over your bare shoulders and Joel wanted to fucking punch him, the way he pressed into your space as you shifted away, your fingers tight on the back of your chair.

“Now we can’t go almost 20 years without working together again, sweetheart,” he said, his hand at your waist as he held you to his side, his thick fingers pressing into the sheer parts of your top. “What we make together is too beautiful to let a little history get in the way.”

“Let’s see if we still have it,” you smiled politely. “Then we’ll talk.”

Henry pulled you out front with him, something Joel was cursing as the flashes started going off again, the paparazzi screaming your name. Had these assholes just camped out here for the last hour? Doing fuck all besides waiting for you to come outside again?

“This is me,” Henry said as a car pulled up to the curb. “We’ll chat soon, yeah?”

“Oh I have no doubt that you’ll make sure we will,” you said, a sour smile on your face.

An odd expression passed over Henry then and he leaned in to kiss you on the cheek but Joel caught him whisper something in your ear, something that made you freeze against him, your hands on his arms to force some distance. You stayed like that as he got in the car, the flashes still going like crazy. Joel looked around for a moment, your driver nowhere to be seen in the immediate traffic, and you were out here - exposed.

Shit.

“C’mon,” Joel said, tucking you below his arm and steering you back in the restaurant, putting you out of sight of the windows. You were breathing fast and shallow again, your eyes wide as you stared into space. “Hey, look at me.”

You obeyed, those wide eyes meeting his.

“You OK?” He asked. “He hurt you?”

“No,” you shook your head and swallowed. “No, I’m fine, just… I’m fine.”

He wasn’t sure he believed that.

“Can you sit tight for one minute?” Joel asked. “I’m going to find your driver, get you out of here, OK?”

You just nodded quickly and Joel reluctantly stepped away from you to a place he could see outside, calling the driver. It took a moment for the call to connect but he reached him and stayed on until he was close enough that Joel could see him out the window before he went back to find you, his chest oddly tight at the distance, a strange relief in him knowing that you’d be where he could properly protect you again in just a second.

But he couldn’t.

You were gone.

***

You weren’t really thinking when you left The Ivy. At least, not consciously.

Something else had taken over your mind, something animalistic and protective, and it only had one thought: Go.

So you went. You found a back way out, dodging servers and cooks who did doubletakes as you wove your way through kitchen until you were outside, the sunlight bright and harsh. You’d just walked after that, not picking any direction in particular, just desperate for some distance.

You weren’t really sure where you’d wound up when you finally seemed to come back into yourself enough to make yourself just stop walking. Your feet ached, there was a dumpster next to you that absolutely reeked and you realized then that you’d ditched your shoes at some point but you weren’t quite sure when. You vaguely remembered running for a bit and your shoes making you stumble but you didn’t remember taking them off. You also didn’t have your purse, probably left behind at the damn restaurant because you hadn’t been thinking, so you had no phone, no ID and no money.

Perfect. Just perfect.

You walked to the end of the alley and looked around, asphalt cutting into the soles of your feet, and peered out to the street. It was mercifully fairly quiet, a bar across from you open, the soft sound of a guitar drifting out from the open door. You darted across the road and into the bar, thankful that no photographers had managed to catch you on your unhinged run through Los Angeles.

Inside the bar was quiet, too, just a few patrons hunched over drinks and a man playing guitar at a small stage in the corner. A few of them looked up when you came in and you realized you were breathing hard. You tried to slow it, clearing your throat awkwardly as someone seemed to clock you, his eyebrows drawing together like he was trying to place you before his eyes went wide and he quickly looked back to his drink.

“Hi,” you smiled at the bartender as you came up. “I was wondering…”

“Need shoes,” he said gruffly.

You frowned.

“What?”

“You need shoes,” he said. “Can’t be barefoot in here. Not sure why anyone would want to walk around barefoot out there anyway, but…”

“Sorry,” you said, smiling again as best you could even though all you really wanted to do was cry. But you’d acted through worse. “They broke. I was hoping I could use a phone to see if I can get someone to pick me up? I lost mine.”

“You can use mine!” The man who’d spotted you before said quickly before clearing his throat. “Um… if… if you wanted.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, relieved, and taking the phone he held out to you.

It took you a moment to figure out who to call.

You wanted to call Anna. She was the only person who would get it, she was the only person who knew all of it. She was who would make you feel like it was all going to be OK.

But you didn’t have her anymore, so you ran down the list of numbers you had memorized. You knew Tanya’s but you didn’t want to leave the number of the world’s biggest musician in some random man’s phone. Justice, one of your closest friends and former costar, was out for the same reason. But you knew Quinn’s number and you did pay her to get you out of situations like this.

Well, maybe not exactly like this, but still. It was better than the alternatives.

It took a few tries before she answered the phone and, when she did, she was clearly pissed.

“What!” She snapped. “Whoever this is, it had better be good because I’m dealing with a crisis right now.”

“Hi Quinn,” you winced a little. “I think I might be your crisis.”

“Oh, thank God,” she said, sounding like she was about to cry with relief. “What the hell happened? Where are you? Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” you lied. “Just needed a walk. Can you send Joel to come get me? I’m at…”

You paused, realizing you weren’t sure where you were. You covered the receiver on the phone and were about to ask the bartender when he gruffly answered your unspoken question.

“O’Shea’s Pub.”

“Thank you,” you smiled at him before repeating it back to Quinn. “Can you tell Joel?”

“I can,” she said. “You know, you could have just told him yourself if you’d fucking said what you were doing!”

“I know,” you flinched. “Sorry.”

She sighed.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Just… don’t do it again. I’m sure he’ll be there soon.”

You returned the phone and got a glass of water from the bartender, who still looked none too happy about the fact that you were in his bar without shoes. But he was, at least, not forcing you to leave. You’d take that.

You tucked yourself into the corner booth, your feet on the seat next to you to get them off the floor, and stared out at the bar, listening to the guitarist as he played, letting your mind drift.

It had been so long since you’d been in the same room as Henry, even longer since it was close quarters. Years. Maybe a decade, even. You’d avoided him and he, mostly, let you. Every few years, a script would wind up in front of you with him attached and you never even read it, your stomach turning just seeing him listed as a producer. You just passed and he’d go back to leaving you alone.

You should have known he’d have done something like this eventually. You usually insisted on producer approval in your contracts but you’d foregone that to land Savage Starlight. You’d wanted the part so badly, wanted to be someone Ellie liked and looked up to and thought was cool, you’d made concessions. Henry was not the superhero movie type, you’d never even considered that he’d try to attach himself to this. A mistake on your part, it seemed.

“I still own you.”

That’s what he’d whispered in your ear as he was leaving, when he had you far enough from Leo and Joel to get away with saying whatever he wanted. Just the memory of it sent a chill up your spine and made your stomach churn. You fidgeted with the water cup, trying not to cry. You couldn’t cry, not in public, not before you had press, not when you were about to be crying in front of fucking Joel. You had to focus, not let things that happened more than a decade ago get under your skin.

It seemed like you’d hardly been sitting there any time at all when, suddenly, Joel was there, his large, broad frame blotting out the sun from the open door of the bar.

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snapped.

You couldn’t make out the expression on his face from your spot in the corner of the booth, just a silhouette, but you looked up at him anyway, not really sure what to say.

“Where the hell are your shoes?” He asked, his voice softening slightly.

“I’m not sure,” you said. “I lost them somewhere…”

He sighed and then took the seat across from you and you blinked in surprise, watching him as he crossed his arms on the tabletop, leaning in and looking you over, his eyes strangely soft.

“Want to tell me what happened.”

“Not really,” you said, leaning back against the wall behind you.

He nodded to your cup.

“What’re you drinking?”

“Water,” you said. “I didn’t have my wallet, so…”

Joel snorted.

“You tellin’ me they’re not bending over backwards to give the biggest movie star in the world free booze?”

You laughed, too, the sound thick in your throat.

“Not exactly,” you said. “But I shouldn’t be drinking, anyway, I have press in… fuck, what time is it?”

“About noon,” Joel said. “We got a few minutes. What do you want?”

“Whisky?” You asked, brows raised.

Joel looked surprised for a moment before he nodded.

“Whisky it is.”

You watched him go to the bar and bring back two glasses, setting one in front of you before taking his place across from you again, taking a sip himself.

“Thank you,” you said.

Joel shrugged and the two of you sat there in silence, sipping your drinks. The whisky was shitty but you kind of liked it that way for a change, the burn of it strangely satisfying, grounding you in your own body.

“Who was that guy?” Joel asked eventually, looking more at his glass than at you.

“Henry Wilde,” you said. Just saying his name made your stomach turn. “He’s a producer.”

“Seemed like he was more than that,” Joel said, looking at you now.

You watched him for a moment. One of the strange things about being famous was the fact that it seemed like the entire planet new your romantic history. It was disorienting, talking with someone who didn’t.

“We dated for a while,” you said. “A long time ago.”

Joel frowned.

“Seems old for you.”

You snorted.

“Yeah, well,” you said. “It is what it is, I suppose. I haven’t seen him in a while except at awards shows and things. The breakup… it wasn’t great.”

Joel nodded slowly, downing the last of his whisky before looking you in the eye.

“You know it’s my job to protect you,” he said. “Someone shoots at you, it’s my job to take the bullet. Someone tries to grab you, it’s my job to grab them first. Thing is… it don’t really matter who the threat is. If he’s a threat, it’s my job to protect you from him. I will keep you safe. Understand?”

You looked at him across the table, the seriousness of his expression, the uncanny openness of his gaze, the breadth and strength of his shoulders. There was something about him that made you believe him. He might hate you for some unknown reason but you trusted him. He would keep you safe, that you knew.

The thought made your throat get tight and you smiled a little at him.

“I understand,” you said. “Thank you, Joel.”

He just gave you a stiff nod and you polished off your whisky and Joel helped you to the car that was waiting outside. Joel, at least, had thought to grab your purse and you texted Quinn about the shoes. You made a quick detour to Christian Louboutin, a sales woman running a pair of pumps in your size out to the car so you made it to your call time on time. They ushered you right into hair and makeup to touch up what you’d done to yourself that morning before bringing you in to the studio, a craft services table set up at the back.

“There she is!” Your costar, Chris Reese, greeted you with open arms, a beaming smile on his face. You fought the urge to grimace as he hugged you, kissing you on both cheeks. “My God you look incredible, you really ought to have mercy on us mere mortals and have an off day sometime, love.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” You asked, brows raised. “Besides, you look pretty good yourself.”

Which wasn’t a lie. Chris was almost unnaturally handsome - you wondered if he’d had some work done but, if he had, it was done well - with a sculpted face, dimpled chin, thick hair. He was good looking and he knew it but he seemed to love you admitting it, anyway.

“Well, if you say so,” he winked. “Still say we’d make a beautiful couple. C’mon, just for a few weeks. We wouldn’t even need to fuck. Unless you wanted to, of course, because who am I to deny a beautiful woman what she wants…”

“I think I’ll pass,” you said.

“On the PR relationship or on the sex?” He asked, his British accent thick. “Because I’m happy to offer the sex with no strings attached.”

“Oh I’m sure you are,” you clapped him on the shoulder before going to get yourself a Diet Coke.

A production assistant came in then, calling you and Chris over to show you examples of some TikTok trends they wanted you to recreate for promos.

It was hard to focus on them. You felt like you needed to play a character for things like this, some version of yourself that the public might want to see and be friends with, the kind of person they’d want to see on their social media feed instead of just on a movie screen. But it was hard to fall into it today. You had to say “Chris, this is the media day for ‘As We Know It’” three times before you finally settled on a take to use.

Chris, to his credit, was good natured about it, willingly saying “I hope she plays Hot to Go” again and again until you were both happy with it. He did the same thing for some choreographed dance after you fucked it up more than you cared to admit and you tried not to feel completely humiliated by it all.

After you posed for some photos - so many with your head on Chris’ chest or your face close to his, the faked intimacy making your jaw clench tight - you settled in for the interviews and you were already exhausted. You hadn’t counted on seeing Henry that day and, even if you had, you wouldn’t have known how much it would take out of you.

“You alright, love?” Chris asked as you had a few minutes between interview three and four. “Seem like you’re not quite yourself.”

“Fine,” you said, taking a sip of Diet Coke. “Just a long day.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, taking a swig of water. “God, this is the worst part of the job.”

“Not the night shoot where we were covered in mud and it was 40 degrees outside?” You asked, brows raised.

He barked a laugh.

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “That might have been worse.”

The next reporter came in and introduced himself and settled in across from the two of you and everything seemed normal, the usual questions about research and challenges and favorite parts of the film when he turned is focus to you and you had to fight the urge to frown at that.

“This one is just for you,” he said. “Sorry, Chris.”

“Don’t worry, I know where I stand when this one’s involved,” he smiled jovially. “Rightfully so, I might add.”

“Such a charmer,” you smiled at him before turning back to the reporter.

“As We Know It is familiar territory for you in a few ways,” he said, making you frown slightly. “Not so much in plot but more in the awards aspect. You famously won your Oscar - your first Oscar, I should say, since you’re the favorite this season - when you were just 20. You were the frontrunner then, too, because you were such a standout…”

“I mean if you want to talk about how great I am, I won’t argue too much,” you smiled, hoping to change the subject.

“Oh, I could,” he smiled back. “But more what I’m getting at… The District, which was about a teenaged prostitute working in a red light district, was a very different film from As We Know It. This is much bigger in scope while also being very intimate - framing the dissolution of a marriage around the end of the world - while The District was much more of a character study, one that caught a lot of flack for the rampant nudity and graphic sex scenes.

“But you also had a very different connection to The District, didn’t you?” He continued. “Your boyfriend at the time, Henry Wilde, developed it as a vehicle to launch that era of your career. The movie really existed because of you, didn’t it?”

Your eyes darted toward where Joel was standing, your fingers pressing down into your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, could sense the tension drawn tight between you, like he was waiting there for something to shift just enough for him to jump in.

“Well…”

“I was wondering what that was like for you,” he said. “Being in on the ground floor like that and having something built around you and your skills versus what the process looks like when you don’t have someone in that director/producer role crafting a film specifically for you? And how does that change awards season for you?”

You dug your nails into your leg.

“Well, I…”

“I’ll take this one, love,” Chris said, his hand coming to cover yours and you turned to look at him and you realized that he was watching you, intently, before turning his attention to the reporter. “I’m going to lay this out for you as clearly as I can: we aren’t doing that.”

The reporter opened his mouth to argue but Chris cut him off.

“No, you asked your question, I’m giving you the bloody answer,” he said. “First of all, my costar here is the most beautiful woman on the planet and the single most talented actor I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with so you will treat her with the respect she’s due. She’s also a lot kinder than I am because she would just answer your bullshit question which is why I’m not letting her. Someone needs to teach you some manners.

“I’m not going to let you sit there and say - to her fucking face - that you think she slept her way to the top,” he said, tone heated. “Because that’s bullshit. You’ve seen her films, you’ve seen her act, if you think she got here off anything beyond talent and incredibly hard work, you’re insane but, more importantly, even if she DID fuck her way to the top, who cares? Why would that be on her? She was, what, 18 when making that film? Henry Wilde was pushing 50? Never mind the fact that he bragged about recognizing her talent when he first met her when she was all of - what was it, love? 13?”

He looked at you again, giving you a chance to answer.

“Twelve,” you said, your grip on your leg easing.

“Fucking 12!” He turned his attention back toward the reporter. “Can you imagine meeting someone who is 12 years old when you’re in your fucking 40s and then DATING THEM six years later? If she slept with him for the part - which I highly doubt since she wouldn’t even pretend to date me to get good PR for this movie, I know because I asked - why would that be on her? That’s on him, ask him why he was going after fucking teenagers, don’t ask her.”

“Alright, I think that’s all the time we have,” Chris’ publicist all but jumped in between him and the reporter, cutting him off before he could go any further. “Thank you so much for coming, why don’t we just see what I can answer for you over here…”

She guided the still dumbfounded looking man away, leaving just you and Chris sitting there in awkward silence.

“Sorry about that,” he said after a moment. “Just think if I had to sit there and let that jackass keep going I was going to lose my bloody mind.”

“No, I…” You looked at him for a moment. “Thank you. Why did you do that?”

He shrugged.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked. “Meant what I said. You are supremely talented and an all around lovely person. You may not be too fond of me…”

“I never said that,” you said quickly but he gave you a look.

“But that’s really my own fault,” he said. “Something tells me if I came on a little less strong when we met, you and I might be friends.”

You smiled a little.

“We still can be,” you said.

“As long as you don’t hold it against me,” he gave you a wink. “Even if I do deserve it.”

You reached a hand out for him and he took it, giving your fingers a squeeze.

“My publicist is going to kill me,” he said cheerfully. “Maybe I’ll never have to do press again.”

You barked a laugh, already feeling lighter.

“Let me know if it works,” you said. “I’ve got a few screeds stashed away, think I could be just unhinged enough to pull it off.”

The rest of the media day was calm, the same basic questions just asked in slightly different ways, things handled easily by your years of media training.

There was just one other moment that set you on edge, probably because of the moment with Joel earlier in the day, the one where he brought your Oscar out from his room and forced you to look at it for the first time in years.

“So,” the reporter asked, smiling conspiratorially. “You each have an Academy Award and I’ve always wondered: where on earth do you keep something like that?”

“Oh that’s easy,” Chris said. “Keep mine on the bedside table but not on my side of the bed. Like to make sure the people I bring home know I’ve got one.”

He gave the reporter a wink and she giggled and you tried not to laugh.

“And you?” She asked when you weren’t quite so forthcoming.

“Oh,” you said, your fingers pressing down into your thigh again, keenly aware of Joel’s eyes on you. “Currently, it’s in the back of my pantry.”

“Your pantry?” Chris looked at you, incredulous. “What on earth is it doing there?”

You laughed and hoped it didn’t sound too fake.

“I just like keeping myself humble,” you said. “If it’s out of sight, it’s out of mind. Gives me something to work towards.”

“Not me,” Chris said. “I’d wear that thing on a chain if it wasn’t so bloody heavy.”

“I’ve got an Emmy that’s a paperweight in my office,” you smiled. “That one’s lighter if you want to borrow it…”

“Not nearly as impressive for me if it’s got your name on it, love. Guess I’ll need to do some TV,” he said. “Get one of my own. Will you do it with me?”

You laughed a little, more genuinely than you ever really had with Chris before. You liked it.

“Of course,” you said. “I’d love to work with you again.”

“And we’d love to see it,” the reporter smiled.

Once the final reporter left, you got up, taking a moment to stretch as best you could in your outfit, the boning of the corseted top keeping you from doing too much and you were ready to be out of the damn thing, back in the comfort of your home where you could peel back the carefully packaged version of yourself that existed for public consumption and just exist without the artifice of it all.

“Christ, media days are so long,” Chris said, cracking his back, too. “Give me back to back night shoots any day.”

“Tell me about it,” you said. “Are you staying in town at least or are you heading out tonight?”

“I’ll be here through the premier,” he said. “Want to walk the carpet with me? As friends, of course.”

“Yeah,” you smiled a little. “That would be nice.”

He gave you a peck on the cheek and a squeeze before the two of you went your separate ways, Joel sitting beside you in the back of the SUV as you stared out the window, watching the city go past.

You did a FaceTime call with Ellie after you got changed and had something to eat, not too long before her bedtime. She told you about school, excited about making friends with a girl named Dina and proud of her grade on her latest science test. You’d promised to take her to the space center in Houston if she actually studied, so you made a mental note to see if Quinn could make some calls and get you a tour. You usually didn’t like leveraging your celebrity status for things like that - you’d gone to DisneyLand plenty of times and just worn a baseball cap and sunglasses all day, doing your best to blend in while waiting in line like everybody else - but, for something that would help keep Ellie engaged in learning, you’d pull some strings.

Talking to her was good but it was also hard. You sat there for a minute, staring into space when the call was over. Something in you was so hollow in that moment, as though someone and wrenched your ribs apart and carved out your insides, leaving you totally empty.

You missed Ellie. You missed Anna. You missed a life you’d never had, one that was quiet and still and let you exist in a way that didn’t include people like fucking Henry or reporters asking about some of the worst parts of your life so everyone else could know about them, too.

When that feeling stuck around a little too long, you unfolded yourself from the couch and padded back toward your bedroom, pausing for a second at Joel’s door. The light was on in his room but it was quiet. Not that you should be bothering him, anyway. Just because he’d been kind to you that afternoon didn’t mean that the two of you were suddenly friends.

You sighed before going to your room and getting your guitar from its place in the corner.

You took it out back to sit by the pool, tuning it quickly before strumming a few chords, trying to think of what to play.

Eventually, you settled on Landslide. It had been a while since you’d played, it took you a little while to find a groove, but it still felt good. You’d never been an incredible guitarist by any means, but you loved playing. It felt like something you did just for you, something that no one else expected out of you.

That was the problem with acting for a living. It helped you think and process and understand yourself and the people around you but it wasn’t something you could do on your own terms anymore, it was always something made for someone else, so someone else could profit or be entertained. No one expected you to play guitar for them, this was something you could do just for you.

You played the song twice to get a feel for things again and just started playing music that felt right, not always whole songs, sometimes just bits and pieces, sometimes singing sometimes not as you watched the glow from the pool light ripple on the water.

“Didn’t know you played.”

You jumped, whipping your head around to find Joel hovering near the door, his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants with a t-shirt on this time.

“Sorry,” he said. “Wasn’t… didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s alright,” you said, looking back toward the water. “I forgot you were here for a minute is all.”

“It OK if I join you?” He asked and you looked back at him again.

You shrugged.

“If you want.”

He came and sat on the lounge chair next to yours, staring straight ahead at the water, too, his hands clasped between his knees.

“Don’t gotta stop just because of me,” he said after a moment. “You ain’t bad.”

You laughed once.

“I’m not great,” you said.

He shrugged.

“Definitely heard worse. Where’d you learn to play?”

“I had to learn the basics for Siren,” you said. “They almost never used my real playing on the show but I needed to at least look like I knew what I was doing. I just kept learning after that. I know I’m not very good but it feels good, you know?”

Joel nodded slowly, looking like he wanted to say something but seeming to think better of it.

“You doing OK?” He asked after a minute.

You looked at him, examining him closely.

“Why?” You asked. “Do you actually care or are you trying to find something to use against me.”

He examined you back, his gaze sharp and exacting before softening.

“Just seemed like you had a shit day,” he said.

You nodded slowly, looking back to the water again.

“I just miss my friend,” you said quietly. “Ellie’s mom, I mean. She was my person, she was my person for my whole life and I just want to talk to her again. I want to tell her about lunch and about Chris and I want her to know that Ellie got an A on her science test…”

“She did?” Joel asked and you looked over at him, his expression oddly earnest.

“She did,” you smiled a little. “I called her a little while ago, she was very proud.”

“She should be,” Joel said. “She worked hard.”

“She did,” you said again and then you sighed. “It just seems so impossible that Anna’s gone. She doesn’t get to see these things, I don’t have her to talk to, I can’t get drunk with her or laugh with her or… “

Mid-sentence, Joel just got up and walked away. You sat there, blinking at the empty space for a moment before you huffed derisively.

“Figures,” you muttered to yourself, before picking at the guitar strings again. But, unexpectedly, Joel was back just a minute later, two glasses of whisky in his hands and a bottle of water tucked under his arm. He handed you a glass and set the bottle on the ground next to your foot.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just… think we need it.”

You considered him for a moment before nodding and taking a sip. He did the same before frowning a little, holding the glass away from himself and examining it.

“What?” You frowned.

“Nothin’,” he said. “Just never had shit this good before. Probably should have asked before taking it.”

“Nah,” you waved him off. “It’s there to be taken, I don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a whisky girl,” he said, taking another sip. “This is damn good.”

“I picked it up when I was young,” you said. “Meeting with producers, they liked when a girl drank like them and seemed to know her shit. I had to force it at first but… well, I guess I acquired the taste. Course, that means I’m picky now. That’s a Macallan 25.”

Joel whistled, long and low.

“Explains why it’s so damn good,” he said.

You smiled a little.

“That it does.”

You sipped the liquor in silence for a bit, savoring the feel of it on your tongue, the heat as it slipped into your stomach.

“What Chris was sayin’,” Joel said eventually, his voice trailing off before he continued. “That all true?”

You looked over at him, watching him for a moment. Joel puzzled you. There were times he seemed to relish being cold or even cruel. Others - like this one - where he seemed to genuinely care.

You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Yeah,” you said after a minute. “Yeah, it is. But it’s not… Look, this is Hollywood. Producers and men with power date young women because they can and the young women date them because we know it can help us get ahead. Tale as old as time.”

“That why you did it?” He asked.

You didn’t really feel like giving him the real answer, so you just looked back at your pool and shrugged, taking another drink.

“Meant what I said before,” he said after a minute. “I will keep you safe. Don’t matter who, don’t matter why. If you don’t want to ever talk to him again, fine, you don’t have to.”

You laughed once, darkly.

“That’s very sweet, Joel, but he’s producing the movie I’m on,” you said. “I’m going to have to deal with him, that’s just how it works.”

“Well, then, it won’t be alone,” he said. “Not while I’m around, anyway.”

“Because you’re going to fight the most powerful producer in Hollywood?” You asked, teasing a little, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Joel shrugged.

“Don’t much care who he is,” Joel said. “But why not. I’d win.”

You laughed and then sighed and, before you were really thinking about it, your head drifted over to Joel’s shoulder. He stiffened and you were about to pull yourself back and apologize but then he relaxed a little, his arm slipping around you, his hand settling into the curve of your waist.

“You’ll be safe,” he said, so quietly that you weren’t sure you were even supposed to hear it. “I’ll keep you safe.”

You smiled a little, the light dancing on the water. For some reason, you believed him.

A/N: I swear, I'm not trying to only publish once a month! Thank you for waiting for this chapter. I really am so happy you're here.

I hope you're all taking care of yourselves right now. There's been a lot going on lately, please spend some time looking after yourself. You deserve it (and Joel would want you to.)

Love you ❤️

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler @lilyevanstan1325 @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @wintersquirrel @missladym1981 @mellymbee @canthinkof1user @inept-the-magnificent

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

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 2 days ago

Text

Remiss

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.2k

Summary: Clearing the air

A/N: Filling plot holes?

Warnings: fluff, some angst, alcohol, a trip down memory lane, hurt/comfort

Wanda and the pets were asleep by the time you arrived home. The dogs were where they usually stayed, downstairs, while Fletcher was probably in your spot. Specifically on your pillow. This was only allowed when you weren’t home which for the first time in a while, you weren’t when the time to go to bed rolled around.

It was almost 2 in the morning when you stumble through the front door. You’d left your car with Pietro because you had gotten a lot drunker than you anticipated. He’d called you a cab home and cleared it with security so Wanda wouldn’t be woken up by their call to alert her of your arrival. Still, you worry that she’ll find out pretty quickly because you trip over your feet as you hurry to turn off the alarm that starts to chirp annoyingly.

You curse as you shut the door and flip on the light long enough to punch in the code that’s been most recently committed to memory. Wanda insists on changing it twice a year, and although it’s a pain in the ass, you go along with it.

You sigh in relief when the chirping stops and you turn around to make sure that you locked the front door. Once you confirm this you go to turn off the light, but the sight of your dogs makes you jump nearly a foot in the air. You curse and fall back against the door in surprise. Your hand goes to your racing heart as the duo shoot you matching expectant looks.

“Shit!”

They don’t seem to realize that they scared the shit out of you, and they come up to you for their pets with wagging tails. You take a moment to scratch them both before you grab your phone and turn on the flashlight with a sigh.

“Okay puppies. I’m gonna bed. Goodnight.”

You make the treacherous journey to the living room and up the stairs to your bedroom in the near darkness. You don’t notice Rogue trailing behind you until you start to push open the door to the bedroom. You turn off the flashlight so you don’t wake up your wife, but now you also can barely see anything.

You’re too tired to bother changing clothes before falling into bed, and you stifle a yawn as you smile at the sight of your wife. When you realize that she’s not alone you nearly roll your eyes.

“Fletcher…”

The tabby is unsurprisingly curled up against your wife’s stomach, and you at least take comfort in the fact that she’s not on your side of the bed. You step out of your shoes and drop your bag on the floor with a quiet thud. Neither of them realize you’ve arrived until you fall on top of the bed with a relieved sigh. You groan under your breath, and bury your face into your pillow. You miss Wanda groan as she stirs at the bed sinking under your weight. She opens her eyes and the first thing she sees is her cat stretching in front of her as she purrs furiously. After she’s offered her a quick scratch, her attention moves to where you’re still lying face down on your pillow trying to sleep off your night.

“Y/n?”

Wanda had expected you back a bit earlier, but she supposes she can’t be too surprised that you were delayed. You were hanging out with her brother and he was nothing if not unpredictable. She realizes quickly that you must have had a lot to drink because when she sits up slightly to check on you. The smell of booze is enough to wake her up a bit more and she reaches out for you when you only groan in response.

“Rough night?”

Wanda reminds herself to yell at her brother later for being an enabler, but she’s quickly distracted when you roll over onto your back. You’re frowning but she doesn’t get to ask what’s on your mind before you turn toward her and Fletcher with a sigh.

“Have I told you…that I love you…a lot?”

Wanda’s eyes widen as she looks at you, or rather your silhouette with a smile. She sees you reach out, but she’s surprised when you stop short and scratch Fletcher instead. It’s almost as if you knew she would move, and you close the distance between you and your wife as soon as the tabby’s gone.

Wanda shrugs as she watches her cat jump off the bed and head for the door where she notices Rogue is now lying down.

“On occasion.”

Wanda feels more than sees you nod before she lowers herself back down to the bed beside you. She ignores the smell of alcohol as she rests her head on your shoulder. She’s glad that you’re back. She’d missed you earlier and it was always easier for her to sleep with you beside her. You breathe out a sigh before muttering into your wife’s hair.

“Good. I’m glad.”

Wanda frowns at your tone and how even half asleep it’s enough for her to realize that something was bothering you. Its too dark for her to see your expression, so she does the next best thing to try and figure out what’s on your mind.

“Y/n, is something wrong?”

She can’t help but run through the possibilities and she pulls back from you to try and get a better read on your mood. You don’t make it easy as you shake your head before reaching out for your wife. You run a hand up her waist to her back and finally to her hair where you start to play with a few strands that have escaped her ponytail.

“No, no. I..I just wa-wanted you to know is all.”

This still sounded too ominous for Wanda’s liking and she reaches out for you. She catches your chin and pulls you closer so she can kiss you. She catches you by surprise but you lean into the kiss and hold your wife like you’re afraid that she’ll leave. When Wanda breaks away, she doesn’t go far, and she rests her head on your shoulder as she wraps her arms around you.

“I love you too, you know that right?”

You don’t hesitate to nod as you turn your head again before you’re lying on your back. You feel your head spin and you briefly regret drinking so much as you think about what you and Pietro talked about tonight. It started off innocent enough with who he was dating and how Wanda was handling staying at home this week. Then it turned to darker thoughts and somehow you’d had a conversation about your least favorite person.

Wanda watches as you become lost in thought, and she can’t help but worry that something happened tonight. She considers reaching out to her brother, but luckily you don’t leave her hanging for too long. That said, you don’t really clarify much for her with what you say next.

“I was just talking to Piet, and he reminded me that I didn’t say it enough.”

Wanda misunderstands and she’s immediately on edge at the idea of her brother saying something like this to you. She is definitely going to yell at him tomorrow.

“He said that? That’s not true, detka. You tell me all the time.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you turn to see your wife looks a little ticked. You squeeze her hand before shaking your head with another sigh. You need to drink water, and take a shower, but you have something you need to say first.

“Not like that. He wasn’t giving me a hard time. I just…”

You trail off as you consider the years you’ve spent with Wanda. All of the struggles and drama that you dealt with as a result of agreeing to be with your wife. You had doubted the decision some. You couldn’t lie and say that the idea of committing to the uncertainty and danger of being with Wanda wasn’t intimidating. That said, you honestly can only think of a handful of instances over the past 5 years that really made you second-guess your decision.

That said, you know that none of this was something that you could have predicted. No matter how much training, how many resources, and friends you have, you can’t be protected from everything. This is something that you and Pietro talked about tonight, and the conversation turned a lot more emotional than you’d been prepared for.

“Do you remember the day we got married?”

Wanda finally sits all the way up and reaches for the lamp on her bedside table. She can’t stand to continue this conversation in the dark because she can’t tell what you’re feeling. You flinch slightly, but don’t protest as Wanda turns on the light before flopping back down beside you.

“Yes, of course I do.”

You seem to accept this answer but are still lost in your jumbled thoughts that you’re currently failing to organize. You shouldn’t have tried to start this conversation while drunk, but now you had no choice. You are sure that Wanda won’t let you just drop it. The look on her face tells you that much.

You close your eyes before you imagine your wedding day. It was wonderful and you were stressed but in the best kind of way. You’d gotten to marry the love of your life with your closest friends by your side. You’d been so happy and a little naïve if you were being honest. You thought that not much would change, or at least not much that mattered, but it didn’t take you long to figure out how wrong you were.

“I told you I loved you then too, right?”

Suddenly your wife is hovering over you and you see her concerned look before her question registers. Your arms suddenly feel like lead as you try to reach up and take your wife’s face in your hand.

“You’re worrying me, love. What’s on your mind?”

You wonder how you can tell Wanda that you love your life with her. You’re so glad that you married her, and you don’t know how to tell her this. You’ve loved the life that you’ve had together, but it hasn’t always been a bed of roses. You have lost count of how many times you’ve been terrified, threatened, or hurt by someone who wanted to get something from your wife. Whether it was money, cooperation, or revenge, you had found yourself on the receiving end of their efforts too many times. You smile as you brush her hair behind her ears and confuse your wife in the same breath.

“Tonight, I just thought about all that we’ve gone through. The struggles, the enemies, all of the challenges we’ve faced.”

Wanda had not been expecting this, and she can’t hide her surprise as she frowns in confusion. She had expected her brother to be lewd and inappropriate, so this trip down memory lane was a shock. She doesn’t get to ask why you and Pietro talked about this at all before you drop your hands to her shoulders. You push her enough for her to get the hint, and she moves so she can help you sit up. You groan as you lie back against your pillow and reach out for her hand. You play with the ring on her finger for a few seconds before you finally clue Wanda in.

“It just made me realize that I never told you how it all made me feel. I hate that you probably blamed yourself when it wasn’t your fault. I just…tonight we talked about Vision, and it made me realize that other than bitching about him, I don’t know if I told you that I really didn’t blame anyone but him, Strucker, and Rumlow.”

Wanda rocks back in surprise at your words and her mouth falls open but she can’t manage any sort of verbal response. She’s not sure how you know that she’s been harboring resentment toward herself for this since it happened. She supposes you just know her really well, but she still doesn’t understand why it came up tonight. Maybe she’s thinking too much into it. Alcohol eliminates most rational thought, doesn’t it?

“So that’s all I really wanted to say, Wands. I don’t love you any less or blame you for anything that happened to me.”

Wanda feels tears stinging her eyes and she can’t help but lean forward and kiss you again. She ignores the taste of tequila, which explains a lot, as she allows herself to feel relief at your words. She didn’t realize how much guilt she’d been carrying with her, and despite knowing it will never completely leave her, she feels much lighter.

“Y/n, I—”

“I’d even go through all of it again, if it meant ending up here with you. Sorry—I didn’t mean to. Interrupt.”

Wanda smiles at your flushed face and kisses your cheek before pulling you into a hug. It’s a little awkward, so she crawls into your lap so she can bring you even closer. Her smile widens when she hears you sigh in relief.

“I love you, detka. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As you hold your wife in your arms, you’re certain you can say the same. There’s really no telling where you’d be if it wasn’t for Wanda. If you hadn’t met her after your awful physics lecture you likely never would have crossed paths. You tighten your hold on your wife as you try to push this thought from your mind. You don’t want to think about being anywhere but here.

“Me neither, Wands.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #silver springs drabble #mob au #silver springs

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mcleantriestowrite · 21 hours ago

Text

Bad Idea - Pt 1

Synopsis: Your step-brother is in debt to Rafe Cameron. Knowing he won’t be able to pay Rafe back, you step up. What a bad idea.

18+

Series content warning – smut (not yet), swearing, slow burn, depictions of aggression, jealousy, drug usage, violence, underage drinking

Chapter content warning – mentions of drug usage, violence

***

Life sucks – that’s what your dad always used to say when you would complain about anything.

Something among the lines of: “Life sucks, kid. Get used to it.”

In response, you would argue with him that life was great and that he was just being negative. Your dad would always do the same thing once you began your argument with him. He would look at you with that same patronizing look, shake his head, pat the top of yours, and reply: “You’ll see.”

You did see.

You saw what he meant the day you realized that he wasn’t coming back from that fishing trip with his buddies.

You saw what he meant when your mom met someone new. You saw what he meant when she fell in love. You saw what he meant when they eventually got married.

You wanted to be happy for her, and you actually really liked the guy, but your mom moving on meant that you needed to as well. You couldn’t live in denial anymore. Your dad was never coming back. And even if he did, he wouldn’t actually be back. That man – your dad – would never really be your dad again.

You continued to see what your dad meant so many times in the next five years of your life after he left. You tried to not let the pessimism cloud you, but it was hard when your dad’s theory was consistently proving itself right.

Now, coming home from a double shift that was originally supposed to be a single, you couldn’t help but remember that very same sentiment.

Life fucking sucks.

You shut the car door, and made your way into the house. All you wanted to do was shower and go to bed. If only life were ever simple for you.

A loud crash from the backyard makes you snap your head over to where the noise came from. It was dark out, and despite living in a much wealthier area than you did five years ago, you still felt as unsafe as you did when you were living in that small house on the Cut.

You look towards the glass doors leading to the backyard. Hesitantly, and very stupidly, you took a step towards the noise.

“You dumb bitch,” you mumbled to yourself. “This is literally how you get yourself killed.”

As you got closer, you heard more noise – grunting, cursing. You almost turned back around to run up the stairs and lock yourself in your room, but you heard your step-brother cry out. All worries about personal safety were thrown out the window. You ran outside without thinking. The sight in front of you made you freeze up.

Your step-brother was pinned to the ground by Rafe Cameron. And he was getting the absolute shit beat out of him.

You felt your heart hammer in your chest. Rafe was from the wealthiest family in the Outer Banks. Kook king. Gets everything he wants. Drug addiction. Anger issues, to put it lightly. You had seen those anger issues be taken out several times from afar. Seeing it up close and personal made you feel overwhelming dread.

You decided to act first and think later. You ran at full force towards the kook, using all strength to shove him off your brother. Rafe stumbled a bit, not expecting anyone to interfere.

“What the hell, man?!” You yelled at him. You stood in front of your step-brother, trying to act like a shield.

Rafe stared at you, his chest heaving. He gave you a once over, but it was obvious he wasn’t really paying attention to you. “Go inside, pogue.” He waved his hand to dismiss you like you were nothing but a small nuisance to him.

You heard Carson on the ground behind you groaning in pain. You felt protectiveness swell in your chest. “The fuck are you doing?” You repeated with more force.

It was hard, but you kept eye contact with Rafe. You knew he was trying to intimidate you. You weren’t going to let it work.

“Carson and I were having a discussion.” Rafe gave a small shrug as if the answer was obvious.

You nearly laughed in anger. “A discussion?”

Rafe didn’t say anything, he only continued to stare at you. It remained clear to you that he expected you to do as he said and to just go inside.

To just go back inside and ignore the fact that someone you loved was getting hurt.

Fuck this guy.

You tilted your head up towards him defiantly. You said the first thing you could think of, despite how dumb it was. “Leave before I call the police.”

You heard Carson groan louder, obviously upset with your sentence. You ignored him.

Rafe laughed, taking a step closer to you threateningly. “You’re gonna call the cops on me?”

A prickle of fear hit your stomach as he began to close the distance. You held your arm out in front of you to stop him from getting any closer.

He stared at you like you were nothing. Like your threat meant nothing. To be fair, those things were probably true to him. Rafe Cameron had the means to get out of any situation. Even if you did actually call the police, you were sure that Rafe would get out of it without a scratch.

You did your best to keep your voice steady. “Leave.” You seethed.

Rafe brushed you off with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I’m not leaving until I get my money.”

That single sentence felt like a push the way it caught you off guard. You looked behind you to Carson, who had his eyes shut tightly in pain. You grimaced at the blood on his face. You turned your head back to Rafe hesitantly.

You watched him for a moment, hoping he would elaborate, but he just stared at you expectantly.

“...What money?” You asked.

Rafe started laughing, making you pull your eyebrows together. You hadn’t felt this confused in a long time, but you tried your best not to show it.

Rafe walked closer to you making you tense up, but he didn’t touch you. He looked over your shoulder to your step-brother, who was just now starting to get up.

“Oh, does she not know?” Rafe taunted. He pointed at you while talking to Carson as if you weren’t even there.

You looked between your brother and Rafe slowly, trying to fill in the blanks. Carson was completely tensed up. You eyed him carefully.

What did you not know?

“I told you. I’m getting your money–” Carson said, lowly.

Rafe shook his head, a deceiving smile on his face.

“Been hearing that for a week now, man. I want my money. Now.” Rafe tried to walk past you, but you stepped with him to prevent him from getting to Carson.

“What money?” You repeated. You tried to put more distance between yourself and Rafe. You didn’t like how close he had gotten.

“Your big brother over here,” Rafe gestured to Carson mockingly, “is a coke head. He’s late on his payments.”

Your lips parted in shock. You quickly shut your mouth, trying to seem unphased. “He’s the coke head here?” You shot back.

You heard Carson say your name in a warning tone. Yeah, it was probably a bad idea to rile up someone like Rafe, but you didn’t want him to think that he had the upper hand here. Even though he so clearly did.

Rafe clenched his jaw. “I’m getting my money one way or another. Either he coughs it up, or you can explain to your parents why their shit is missing.”

You shut your eyes, trying to remain calm. You let out a deep breath. “How much money does he owe you?”

You stood there in silence, waiting for Rafe’s answer. For a moment, all you could hear was Carson’s labored breathing.

“$750.”

Your eyes snapped open. This time you weren’t able to hide your reaction. Your head flew towards your brother in disbelief.

“Seven hund–?” You cut yourself off. Carson looked away, unable to meet your eye.

How the hell did he manage to spend that much? Carson didn’t even have a job. How was he planning on paying Rafe back? Was he going to steal it from his dad?

You shook your head to clear it from the questions flying in your mind. Those were going to have to be placed on the backburner. You did your best to focus on the pressing matter at hand.

Carson owed Rafe money. Carson did not have said money. Rafe was going to do whatever he needed to do to get what he was owed. You needed to step up.

You felt yourself getting distracted by your thoughts again. Why did Rafe need the money so bad anyway? Wasn’t his family millionaires or something? $750 had to be, like, pocket change or something to a guy like him.

You took a deep breath.

“I, um, I have, like $350 on me right now.” You pat your pockets for some reason as if the money wasn’t inside.

“YN, I can–” Your step-brother started.

“Shut up, Carson.” You snapped. You looked back at Rafe. “I’ll have more after work tomorrow.” You assured him.

Rafe shook his head, irritation on clear display. “I’m not waiting anymore–”

You looked at him sharply. “Well, you’re gonna have to.” Your tone was harsh, and it clearly caught Rafe off guard. He masked the shock quickly.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, pogue, but it ain’t me.” He got in your face, and you tried your best to remain looking confident.

You didn’t feel confident, but maybe if you pretended like you were then eventually you would be for real.

“If you want your money,” You told him calmly while stepping towards him so that you were toe to toe. “Then you’re going to wait.” You flickered your eyes between his, trying to look stern.

Rafe stared at you for a few moments before an amused look graced his features. He looked away, laughing to himself. He nodded his head a couple times and looked back to you.

“You work at The Wreck?” He asked.

You were a little surprised that he knew this, but you didn’t dwell on it for too long. You nodded your head.

“Alright.” He smirked a bit, looking you up and down. He laughed to himself once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He brushed his shoulder past yours as he made his exit from your backyard through the gate.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“YN, I’m so sorry–” You heard Carson speak up.

You held your hand up, cutting him off. “Just give me a minute.” You told him.

You walked towards your home and tried to control your breathing. Panic was fully setting in. You felt the coldness of it traveling through your veins.

Your step-brother was in debt to one of the most powerful people on the island.

Oh God, you thought. What were you going to do?

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe #obx fic #obx #outer banks #rafe fic

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rispwr · 2 days ago

Text

Hate you - chapter 3 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : didn't get to do my word goal again:(( will definitely do it again next chapter. we don't talk anymore by charli puthh "what kind of dress you're wearing tonight, if it's holding onto you so tight, the way i did before"

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ‘You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings :

Misunderstood break up, insecurities, mentions of self harms or mental health issues, jk is mean at the start, yelling, sensitive language or words, mentions of family trauma, corporate au, smart (both), mentions of yoongi x oc, mentions of cheating, soon to be ceo! Jk, soon to be ceo! Oc, oc is still named Y/n or {__}, corporate rivals?, fake dating, lack of communication, death of a character, mentions of suicide attempt. not proofread

series masterlist

Can't believe this

February 10, 2027 — Present Time

You’d decided it was finally time for Yoongi to meet your mother. His calm demeanor and unwavering support had been your anchor during some of the toughest times.

Your fingers were laced with his, the warmth of his hand grounding you. The two of you looked effortlessly coordinated in matching blazers—his in classic black, yours in a crisp white.

As you reached the door, you took a deep breath and pushed it open.

And then you saw him.

Jungkook.

He was seated next to your mother, deep in conversation, his voice low and composed. His hair, once a warm chestnut brown, was now jet black, styled into a sleek, elegant mullet. It framed his face perfectly, the strands slicked back with precision. His right arm rested casually on the table, the sleeve of his shirt rolled up just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos that snaked up his skin.

This wasn’t the Jungkook you once knew. He carried himself differently now—poised, polished, and every bit the powerful CEO.

Your heart clenched, a mixture of shock and betrayal surging through you.

“Mom?” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room.

Both your mother and Jungkook turned to face you, but it was your mom who spoke first. “Oh, Y/N, dear. I was just about to tell you about our new brand deal—”

“No,” you cut her off sharply, your tone icy. “I don’t want to, Mom.”

Your mother frowned, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. “Y/N—”

Before she could continue, Jungkook stood, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Y/N, listen—”

“It’s Ms. Kim Y/N to you, Mr. Jeon,” you snapped, your voice sharp and unyielding.

Yoongi shifted beside you, clearly sensing the tension. “Uh, maybe I should step out—”

“No, no, Yoongi,” you said quickly, your tone softening as you glanced at him. “It’s fine. We’ll be out of here soon.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His gaze flickered briefly to Yoongi, his expression unreadable.

Your mom sighed, attempting to mediate. “Y/N, this partnership could be beneficial for both companies. Jungkook’s team—”

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “We don’t need this deal, not if it involves him.”

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air.

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or frustration. “Understood,” he said finally, his tone even.

Without another word, you turned and walked out of the room, Yoongi following close behind.

Once you were out in the hallway, Yoongi gently squeezed your hand. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded, though your heart still raced. “Yeah,” you said quietly, looking up at him. “I am now.”

I gathered my bag and slid out of the car with his help, the cool morning air brushing against my face. Adjusting my blazer, I turned to him and said, “I’ll be out late, so don’t wait for me or pick me up. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a respectful nod. His stoic expression didn’t waver, but I knew he’d make sure everything was handled as usual.

Just as I was about to step inside the building, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was Yoongi. I couldn’t help but smile as I answered.

“Heyyy, wanna go out tonight?” he asked, his tone playful.

I hesitated for a moment, remembering the plans I’d already made. “Well... I kinda have plans with Namjoon and Sana tonight at the club,” I admitted. “But you can come. Can you?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said without missing a beat. “Pick you up or just stay at your place?”

“My place,” I replied, knowing it would be easier that way.

“Alrighty. See you, pretty,” he said smoothly, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“See you,” I said, hanging up.

I slipped my phone back into my bag and walked into the towering office building. The lobby was sleek and modern, filled with employees and visitors. I walked confidently across the polished floors, my heels clicking rhythmically as I made my way to the private elevator reserved for executives.

Once I reached my floor, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and crisp paper greeted me. My assistant, Sejun, was already waiting by my office door, his usual clipboard in hand. He was a sharp dresser, his navy suit perfectly tailored, and his hair neatly combed back.

“Good morning, Ms. Kim,” he greeted me with a polite bow. “Someone sent you a letter. It’s on your desk.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A letter?” It wasn’t often that I received personal mail at the office, especially in this day and age.

“Yes, it was hand-delivered this morning,” Sejun explained as he opened the door for me. “It seemed urgent.”

I hummed in acknowledgment, stepping inside my spacious office.

I sank back into my chair. After all the training, coaching, and pressure to step up as CEO, I’d finally started to find a rhythm that felt… right. There was satisfaction in this work, a sense of control I hadn't experienced before. For months, I'd felt buried under the weight of everyone’s expectations. But now, as I glanced around my office, I felt the slightest glimmer of pride.

With a small smile, I gave in to a rare moment of relaxation, spinning slowly in my chair. Just as I was beginning to feel settled, something caught my eye. A sleek,brown, small envelope lay on my desk, standing out starkly against the polished white surface. I frowned. The name on it was written in bold, elegant script:

To: Kim Y/N, CEO of RNT Inc. From: Jeon Jungkook, CEO of GCF Productions.

My heart dropped as I read his name. Jungkook. After everything, after years of hurting me, he was reaching out now? My fingers hovered over the envelope, hesitant, but curiosity won. I picked it up, feeling the weight of the paper in my hand, the texture rich and smooth under my fingertips. Slowly, I slid my nail under the seal and pulled out a letter, already bracing myself for the frustration I knew would come.

The very first line felt like a slap to the face.

Dear Y/N, the love of my life.

A harsh, bitter laugh escaped me, almost involuntary. "Is he kidding?" I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes. He had to be joking. This was the same man who’d walked away without a single explanation, leaving me to piece together the wreckage of my heart on my own. Yet here he was, casually calling me "the love of his life," as if that title could erase everything that had happened between us.

Taking a breath, I continued reading, my fingers gripping the edges of the paper.

I wrote this letter back in December 2025, almost a year after we broke up. Well, after I broke up with you. I know what I did could never be justified, nor will it ever be okay, and I’m writing this to tell you I’m truly sorry.

I’ve spent every day since hating myself for how I hurt you. I couldn’t even bring myself to face you and say it out loud. I was selfish, Y/N. I was only thinking about myself, my fears, my insecurities. But the truth is, losing you was the biggest mistake of my life. I know I didn’t deserve you then, and I probably never will. You deserve someone better, someone who can love you fully and without hesitation. I was never that person, and for that, I’m sorry.

A slight tremor ran through my hand as I lowered the letter, blinking back the prickle of tears that threatened to gather. So that was it? That was all he had to offer? An apology scratched out on a piece of paper, years after he'd torn me apart? I felt a strange mix of rage, sadness, and exhaustion welling up in me as I reread his words.

I’d spent countless nights trying to understand why he’d left. I’d gone through every possible reason in my mind, analyzing each argument, every little moment that might have led him to walk away. And here he was, admitting to being "selfish," "insecure," and telling me he’d "made a mistake." But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed an answer that made sense, something to validate the pain I’d gone through.

I let out a shaky breath, the frustration building inside me. His "explanation" was just a reminder of how deeply he’d scarred me. All those moments I’d doubted myself, the insecurities that had crept in because I thought I wasn’t enough for him. And now, he was telling me that none of it had been my fault? That he’d just been... scared?

I felt a surge of anger rise, mingling with the hurt I’d buried over the years. “So that's it, huh?” I muttered to myself, voice edged with bitterness. “You just get to come back and apologize? You get to ‘hate yourself’ for what you did, and that’s supposed to be enough?”

Another part of the letter caught my eye:

You deserve someone better, someone who can love you fully and without hesitation. I was never that person.

My eyes narrowed as I read those words. I didn’t need someone to tell me what I deserved—I’d worked hard to find peace, to rebuild myself without his validation. I’d made it to where I was now because I had pushed through the heartache, and I refused to let him swoop back in and disrupt the life I’d built for myself.

My gaze drifted to the windows, the city skyline gleaming in the afternoon light. This was my world now—a world I’d crafted from the pieces he left behind. And the more I thought about it, the angrier I felt. He had no right to just appear out of nowhere and stir up these emotions, no right to force me to relive the pain I’d worked so hard to bury.

I glanced down at the letter one last time, reading the final lines, feeling the bile rise in my throat.

If I could go back, I’d have done things differently. But I can’t change the past, Y/N. I know you might never forgive me, and I understand. I just needed you to know how sorry I am. You deserved better, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be that for you.

With a bitter laugh, I folded the letter neatly, my fingers pressing down on the creases with a sharp finality. “You’re sorry?” I whispered to the empty room. “No. It’s too late for that.” My voice trembled with the weight of years of bottled-up resentment.

For a brief second, I considered crumpling the letter, letting it join the discarded pieces of him I’d long since cast away. But instead, I placed it back on the desk, staring at it with a cold, unfeeling gaze. Jungkook could write all the letters he wanted. He could regret everything he’d done, but he’d never be able to undo the damage he’d caused.

“You miss your mommy, huh? How about me? Don’t you miss me?” he said in a playful, high-pitched voice, scratching behind Cosmo’s ears. My dog wagged his tail enthusiastically, clearly enjoying the attention.

Smiling to myself, I crept quietly toward the couch, leaning down to wrap my arms around Yoongi’s shoulders from behind.

“Y/nnn!” he whined in surprise, tilting his head back to look at me.

I laughed, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”

He huffed, a small pout forming on his lips, before breaking into a grin. “Cosmo misses you,” he said, pointing dramatically to the dog. “And this person too.” He jabbed his thumb toward his chest.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, you’re funny,” I said, shaking my head. “Let me get ready, and we can head out to the club?”

“Sure,” he replied, leaning back into the couch. “Which club is it, anyway?”

“Oh, Namjoon just opened a new one nearby,” I said, making my way toward the bedroom. “It’s called Serendipity.”

“Cool,” Yoongi said, his tone casual. “Leave it to Joon to pick a name like that.”

After finishing the final touches on my outfit, I stepped out of the bedroom, feeling confident. My eyes immediately met Yoongi’s, who was leaning casually against the armrest of the couch. His gaze softened as he took me in, a small, appreciative smile curving his lips.

“You’re always beautiful, babe,” he said, his voice low and warm. He pushed off the couch, closing the distance between us. “You know, I was thinking…” His hand reached up to gently brush a strand of hair from my face. “Maybe we could just stay home tonight? Just you, me, and Cosmo.”

I crossed my arms, giving him my best pout. “Yoongi,” I whined. “This is the opening night. Namjoon will kill me if I don’t show up.”

He chuckled softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my pouty lips. “I’m just kidding,” he said, his laughter rumbling against my cheek. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides,” he added with a wink, “I can't wait to see the new club anyway.”

at the club

“Babeee! You made it!” Namjoon grinned, pulling me into a quick hug. Sana followed, giving me a playful nudge before turning her attention to Yoongi. She stepped back, arms crossed, and eyed him from head to toe, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Ohhh, so you two are together now, huh?” she said, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Well, not exactly yet,” I admitted with a small smile, glancing at Yoongi, who simply shrugged with his usual calm demeanor.

Sana leaned in closer to him, lowering her voice. “Listen, Yoongi,” she said, her tone light but with an edge of protectiveness. “You know what her ex did. He broke her, left her shattered. If you even think about pulling something like that…” She smirked, “Let’s just say you’ll be picking up your pieces from the floor.”

Yoongi didn’t miss a beat. With a playful grin, he gave a mock salute. “Understood, ma’am. Won’t let you down.”

Sana laughed, giving him a soft punch on the shoulder. “Good. I like this one,” she said, turning back to me. “Don’t mess it up.”

Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, Sana, let the man breathe. Y/N’s got good taste.”

We made our way deeper into the club, finding a table near the center. The place was packed, people swaying to the beat under the shimmering lights. Namjoon leaned in, his voice barely audible over the music. “You might want a heads-up,” he said. “A lot of important people showed up tonight.”

“Oh? Like who?” I asked, taking a sip of the cocktail Sana had handed me.

Namjoon hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’ve got a new partnership lined up. They’re interested in using the club as a film set.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” I said, genuinely impressed.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his expression slightly cautious. “It’s with GCF—Golden Closet Film Productions.”

The name hit me like a freight train. My smile faltered as my grip tightened around the glass. GCF. Of all the production companies, it had to be his.

“That’s…interesting,” I said, keeping my tone neutral, though my heart raced.

Namjoon noticed the shift in my demeanor. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

Before I could respond, a familiar figure stepped into view. The air seemed to thicken around us as Jungkook made his entrance, his confident stride drawing attention. His sharp suit and slicked-back hair.

He didn’t notice me right away, but when his eyes finally landed on our table, they locked onto mine.

The moment Jungkook’s face came into view, panic surged through my fading consciousness. He couldn’t get my company, and now he had to come after Namjoon’s? My mind spiraled, and the pounding music faded into the background. My vision blurred, and before I could process what was happening, my legs buckled beneath me.

The world tilted, and everything went dark.

When I came to, faint voices surrounded me. My head pounded, and the bright lights overhead stung my eyes. Slowly, I began to piece together what had happened. I was lying on the floor, my body weak and heavy. As my vision cleared, I saw three men hovering over me.

Yoongi was the first to catch my attention, his face etched with worry. His hand rested gently on my shoulder, his voice calm but firm as he whispered, “Y/N, stay with us. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Namjoon was on my other side, his brow furrowed in concern. “Breathe, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with panic. “You’re going to be fine. We’ve got you.”

And then there was him.

Jungkook.

The one person I never expected—or wanted—to see like this again. His face was pale, his hands trembling slightly as he checked my pulse. His eyes, usually so confident and cold, were filled with something I hadn’t seen in years—genuine fear.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Jungkook’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Now!”

I blinked slowly, my vision flickering in and out. I could feel Yoongi’s grip tighten protectively, as if shielding me from the man who now knelt beside me.

“Y/N, wake up,” Jungkook pleaded, his voice softer now, almost desperate. “Please.”

Why was he here? Why was he acting like he cared? The questions swirled in my mind, but my body betrayed me. I was too weak to push him away, too drained to tell him to leave.

The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me again was Yoongi glaring at Jungkook, his jaw clenched, as if silently telling him to back off.

But Jungkook didn’t move. He stayed right there, holding my hand, as if he had any right to.

The ambulance raced through the city, its sirens blaring as it made its way to the hospital. Inside, tension was thick in the air as Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jungkook all hovered around me, waiting for any sign of movement. The nurses worked swiftly, checking my vitals and preparing me for transport.

One of the nurses, a woman with a no-nonsense attitude, looked over her shoulder at the three men. "So," she began, glancing between them, "what are your relations to the patient?"

Namjoon spoke up first, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "Uh, I’m her best friend. Kind of like a brother, but we’re not family... just very close."

Before the nurse could respond, Yoongi interrupted, speaking with an air of calmness that didn’t match his inner turmoil. "I’m her... partner. We’re not exclusive," he said, his eyes still on me.

The nurse raised an eyebrow, but she nodded, jotting something down on her clipboard. Then her gaze shifted to Jungkook, who had been unusually quiet until now. "And you?" she asked, her voice neutral but probing.

Jungkook hesitated, his eyes flicking to me before he finally answered. "I’m... her ex." His voice faltered just a little, but he didn’t look away, clearly uncertain of how to explain himself.

The nurse gave a quick nod, her expression unreadable as she continued her work. "Alright, noted," she muttered

Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jungkook all nodded in unison, their faces still drawn with worry.

As the nurse made her way to the front of the ambulance, muttering something under her breath, it was clear she wasn’t too keen on this complex situation. "Tough," she mumbled, not entirely directed at them but loud enough for all of them to hear.

The other nurse cleared his throat, breaking the awkward tension. “We’re almost at the hospital. Just hang in there, alright?” He gave a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the equipment.

at the hospital

"Okay, it seems like her vitals are stable," the doctor began, "but it appears there may be an underlying issue—more psychological than physical. I suggest she undergoes a check-up with her psychiatrist."

He paused, looking from Yoongi to Namjoon, then to Jungkook. "Does she have any psychiatrist or—?"

Before he could finish the sentence, Yoongi spoke up, his tone calm but firm. "Yes, she has a psychiatrist, and a therapist as well," Yoongi added, as if it was no big deal, but the words seemed to hang in the air, carrying an unexpected weight.

The doctor nodded in acknowledgment. "Good to know. I'll make a note of that," he said, before turning back to the charts.

Meanwhile, Jungkook's eyes narrowed, shooting Yoongi a quick glare.

Is he trying to rub it in on me that he has her or what?

Jungkook thought, feeling the subtle sting of jealousy. But he kept his thoughts to himself, watching as the others focused on the doctor.

The doctor continued, "I'll send the nurse in with the medication and a prescription."

Namjoon, who had been mostly silent up until now, spoke up, his voice tinged with concern. "Is there anything she should avoid or...?"

The doctor looked up, his expression softening slightly. "Avoid stress, skipping meals, too much screen time, excessive caffeine, and salty foods. That should help, at least for now," he advised. "She will be discharged tomorrow once she wakes up. We’ll keep monitoring her overnight."

Yoongi and Jungkook, both clearly anxious and equally invested in my well-being, bombarded the doctor with questions at the same time.

"When should she take the medication?" Yoongi asked, his voice urgent but trying to remain composed.

Jungkook jumped in right after, his tone sharp with impatience. "And how much should she take? Should we be worried about any side effects?"

The doctor looked between the two, raising an eyebrow at the sudden competition for answers. It wasn’t lost on him how the situation was unfolding. "It’s really up to her, but I recommend following the instructions on the prescription. If you’re both helping her, make sure she stays hydrated and follows a good routine," he said, handing over a piece of paper with the details. "Just keep an eye on her mental health. That’s the priority right now."

Namjoon, who had been standing back a little, exchanged a quick glance with Yoongi. He couldn’t help but chuckle lightly under his breath. "I think the doc's right, you guys. She needs care, not a competition," he joked, trying to break the tension.

"Where am I?" I mumble, still feeling dizzy.

And then it hits me, my confusion turning into full-blown panic. I sit up quickly, my head spinning, my eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "what the fuck is happening?" I yell, completely freaking out. My heart is racing as I try to slap myself, muttering under my breath, "This is a dream. This is a dream." I say it enough for them to hear me, hoping I’m just imagining this whole nightmare.

Before anyone can respond, I hear the doctor’s voice, soft and nonchalant. "Alright, I think it’s time for me to go out," he mumbles, and the door clicks shut behind him.

I stare at the empty doorway for a moment before scoffing bitterly. My emotions are spiraling out of control. I turn my attention to Jungkook, the rage bubbling up inside me. "Wow. Just—just wow," I say, pointing a shaky finger in his direction. "You! You took two, three and a half years to finally show up in my life again?? Are you trying to ruin my life or something?" My voice is shaking with anger, every word feeling like it’s tearing me apart.

"Y/N," Yoongi tries to calm me down, but I don’t want to hear it.

"No! This is all stupid!!" I yell, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. My hands cover my face as I try to stop myself from breaking down. I can’t hold it in anymore, and I let out a frustrated yell. "Fuck! You guys should’ve let me die there!" The words slip out before I can stop them, too raw, too real, but they’re there, and I hate myself for saying them.

"I’m sorry, Y/N..." I hear Jungkook’s voice, but it only makes things worse.

"No. Save your fucking sorrys," I snap, cutting him off, my heart pounding in my chest. "When you can finally man up and tell me why the fuck you left me, and what was your reason for it, then maybe I’ll listen to your sorry. Until then? You won’t be hearing a fucking word from me."

"fine!" I watched as Jungkook stormed out of the room, his blazer in hand, his anger vibrating through every movement.

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spiderman2-99 · 1 day ago

Note

✨:guilty-Gabriella

[5.20.2022, TRN-1042]

Gabriella had been… unusually sullen in the car ride after school today. Today was PTA meeting day, and one of the discussions was about some C’s in certain classes. The teacher told Miguel how he could help, that otherwise his daughter was a treat to have in class, etc etc., sometimes kids just struggle with some subjects. Miguel understood just fine, promised that he'd help, reassured that it was just a monetary setback, all that.

But Gabriella had been sulking in the passenger’s seat the whole ride home. At best, she’d give monosyllabic answers to Miguel if he asked anything— a far cry from the usual ball of energy he'd come to know and love over the last couple months.

She curls up a little in the seat, her forehead leaning on the glass of the window, arms crossed. She looks… disappointed in herself. Or apprehensive, maybe? Miguel won’t claim to be emotionally intelligent, as much as he tried to be for Gabriella’s sake. He never had to be until Gabiella. Shock. He still has so much to learn. Too much to learn.

He swallows thickly before finally breaking the heavy silence that descended upon the car ride.

“Gabi,” he begins, his voice gentle yet firm, "something's clearly bothering you. You've been silent since we left school. Is everything okay?"

Well. That was a lame start that, as expected, didn't get an answer beyond a half-hearted shrug. Dios en el cielo. He really doesn't want to pull teeth.

"Is it... about the C’s in your report card?"

The last sentence makes her wince slightly. So that was a yes.

(Miguel can't stop the awful thought of what if the other Miguel yelled at her about grades? He has to physically shake his head slightly to clear it.)

She shifts a moment in her seat. “I know, I’ll study harder…” she murmurs like she’s preparing herself for the gallows.

Miguel lets out a sigh through his nose. He isn't entirely an idiot, he figures it's more than just the report card— or maybe something so pressing that it's causing the slip. The problem is trying to get to it delicately; which is much more difficult than it should be for him. Being... soft, gentle, paternal just doesn't come naturally for him. He never had that sort of role model, and now he's flying blind in a life he stole, at any moment about to ruin it, and the sweet little girl that came with it-

Okay, no, no. Breathe. Get your head on straight, O'Hara. You're better than that.

“It’s not just about the grades, is it?” he urges. “There’s something else bothering you, and I want to know what it is."

He risks a sidelong glance. She has to know he's serious. "I’m here to listen, Gabi. I promise."

“I dunno… it’s kinda dumb, but…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Miguel can see Gabriella sit up straight, hesitating, trying to collect her thoughts. He won’t rush her.

“You’ve been forgetting a lot lately. Like… remember when I told you about Emily’s birthday? I’ve been friends with her forever, but you had to use a GPS to find her house. And sometimes I’ll tell you about something we did a year ago, and I can tell you’re trying to act like you remember but you don’t. And when we visited Abuela, you acted weird around her, like you didn't know her at all.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. His daughter, his beautiful, wonderful, smart daughter, noticed the discrepancies between him and the man he’d replaced; the gaps in his cover. It was only a matter of time before she put the pieces together.

"You've been forgetting events for school, and getting lost in our own city, and when tío Gabriel visited, you couldn't even keep up with the conversation he was making 'cause he was bringing up things you didn't remember..."

Then, Gabriella turns to him and gives him a look with those big, watery hazel eyes that makes him want to throw himself off a cliff. “Did you get hurt at work, Papa?”

...

Well. Maybe a little more time.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his fingers clenching the steering wheel tighter. "No, sweetheart, I didn't hurt myself at work," he reassures, but the lie tastes bitter on his tongue. "It's just..."

“Something complicated again?” She interjects, going back to looking out the window.

Miguel grumbles in frustration. He should’ve realized his daughter would be just as much of a smart-ass as him. "Yes, mija, it's something complicated. But I promise, I'm handling it."

'Complicated' is an understatement. It’s a whole paradox, a breach in reality, a cosmic crime against nature. He hates not being honest with her, but how the hell is he supposed to say ‘your real father is dead and I replaced him’?

God, he's a coward.

Miguel would give everything, anything, to make sure she’s okay through all of this. But the more time passed, the more he knew he didn’t deserve to be her father. He isn't her papa. He could never be.

"It’s nothing you need to worry about, okay?” he continues through the lump in his throat. “It’s something... something only adults have to deal with.”

"Everyone always says that; it's always something 'only adults deal about'," she retorts, glowering at her father. "It's affecting me too, but anytime I ask—"

"I can't tell you, okay?" he snaps, his voice strained; the tension rising between them as foreboding as storm clouds in the horizon. He has to take a deep breath before he continues, forcing a calmness in his voice. "I can't. Please, you have to trust me. It’s- it's for your own good, mija."

"And that's another thing they tell me; it's aaaalways 'for my own good'-"

"Gabi..."

"-but how can I trust you when you don't trust me, huh?"

"Gabi."

"When you're acting all weird and not telling me anything anymore and-"

"Gabriella Angela O'Hara."

She winces and shrinks back into her seat. Christ in Heaven, this is going all wrong, and it feels like all Miguel can do is watch it happen.

"You think I don’t want to tell you?" He continues, grinding his jaw to keep the rising anger out of his voice. The last thing she needs is his anger. He can't act like George O'Hara. "You think I want to keep you in the dark? Do you think I like hiding things from you? I’m doing this to protect you, because..."

Miguel's words trail off. He can’t say ‘because I’m not your real father.’

Baffled, hurt, she presses on. "Because what? You- you think I'm too stupid or something? I can't handle it?"

Christ, isn't that a wonderful, ice cold jolt to his already frayed nerves? "No! No, it's not that! You're not stupid, you're the most brilliant, amazing child I've ever met."

He swallows hard. The lump in his throat feels like a brick.

"It’s not that I think you can’t handle it, it's that you're still just a kid! And you shouldn't have to handle it!"

Gabi lets out a long groan, slumping her head against the headrest, but seems to drop the subject.

Momentarily.

Long enough to lull Miguel into a false sense of security. Long enough for him to pull in their driveway before he hears--

"Still get to feel it all go to shit though," grumbled under her breath; only audible due to Miguel's enhanced hearing.

He kills the engine and just... sits there a moment; the silence thick and oppressive, thoroughly killing any semblance of energy he had left. The language suddenly doesn't even feel worth reprimanding.

Slowly, he turns to look at her. His daughter. His sweet, beautiful, brilliant baby girl. The only thing left in the world that is truly good.

I'm ruining her.

Then again, he ruined her the second he inserted himself into a life that wasn't his. He should've known this charade would blow up in his face. God knows he can never have anything nice without having to fight for it; tearing into it with his teeth and shocking it all up from his own desperation.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, pained.

"Gabi," he begins, his tone heavy with a mix of guilt and frustration. "I... I'm doing the best I can. I'm trying."

She doesn't even look at him. "Not trying good enough."

Shocking hell. Out of all the things she could inherit from her father, did it have to be his bull-headedness and the ability to cut where it hurts? It's bad enough on him, but when it's someone else? When it's the truth?

He has to fight the urge to snap back, to say something he’ll regret, to prove his own inadequacy correct. Instead, he closes his eyes and takes a breath in an attempt to collect himself.

Operating word being 'attempt'.

Bile still leaks into Miguel's voice as he grates out, "Get out and go to your room."

"What-" So now she decides to spare me a glance.

"Get out," he repeats, low and deliberate, "and go to your room. I don't- I can't be with you right now."

The pause that follows as his words sink in isn't just pregnant; it's straight-up post-due with a necrotic placenta and a calcified fetus.

The words are already out; no taking back even if he felt they deserved to be. Gabriella's expression morphs from horrified to disgusted to a sort of passive anger.

Finally, the silence is broken by the sound of her seatbelt clicking. Then, "fine. I don't wanna be with you either," followed by the car door slamming.

There's no parting barb, no further vitriol thrown at him. Maybe there should've been; there'd at least be some sort of outlet for Miguel to let out his metric shitton of pent-up frustration and sheer, utter rage. They'd both deserve it then.

But there is nothing.

Just a broken, run-down, irreparably shocked up man trying to pretend to be a father; the role fitting him as good as if he'd skinned his alternate's face and wore it on top of his own. Why did he bother? Gabriella doesn't deserve her life being ruined by a genetic abomination from another world deluding himself to be something capable of loving.

He slumps his head against the steering wheel and screams.

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immeasurablesaladagere · 12 hours ago

Text

A Wildcard is Active - Team Self-Sufficient

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Words: 4973

Series Summery: Set in a hypothetical fourth session of Wild Life in which each player has a 50/50 chance of being turned into a kid (ages 4-8) or remaining an adult for the week. How will the adults manage their tiny teammates? How will they keep them out of trouble? And how dangerous could a red or yellow toddler really be? Told from a variety of group POV’s, all with their own challenges over the course of a hypothetical session 4.

⭐️ Fun fact! Every character's child/adult role was actually determined by coin toss (head=adult, tails=child)! All of these dynamics were chosen at random and some were pretty perfect. I just had to do it when I saw this pair.

Fic Summery: By a stroke of bad luck, both Gem and Joel end up as children and are determined not to let anyone know. There are reds about, it’s not safe for them to be alone without an adult to protect them. When they run into trouble in a cave, they're forced to ask the Bamboozlers for help.

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On the first morning of the fourth session, Joel allowed himself to stay in bed just a bit longer and take in the snail-less peace and quiet. No more running about, constantly looking over his shoulder for deadly flying mollusks, just a nice easy doze in the Charger, living the life.

Gem was already up and about, cooking breakfast by the smell of it. Somehow session three had been a breeze for her and now she was going around being all productive. Showoff.

“Joel! Breakfast is ready!”

As much as he wanted to roll over and doze for another thirty minutes, the start of the session would wait for no man. They only had a short time before the next wildcard activated for the week and they needed to pound back as many calories as possible if they wanted to keep up with whatever craziness Grian had in store this time.

So out of bed and into their makeshift kitchen he went, rubbing the sleep crusties out of his eyes. “Quit your yelling, what if I’d been sleepin’ still?”

“Then you needed to get up anyway. Wildcard rolls in an hour, up and ‘attem!” Gem said with the chipperness of someone who hadn’t spent the last week fearing for her life, and slid two plates of eggs, toast, and bacon onto the table.

“Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say, you dirty snail-lover.”

“Hey! Who made you breakfast?”

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Joel shovelled a forkful of bacon into his mouth and groaned. “S’really good.”

Gem chuckled. “Well don’t make it weird! Maybe I shouldn’t be cooking for you.”

“No, please, I’ll be eating nothing but bread all season.” He whined. “Seriously, this is great, thanks Gem.”

“Well of course! We’re going to need the energy!” She finished her glass of milk in one go and got up to start putting her dishes away because holy moly, she ate fast. “What’s on the to-do list for today?”

There were about a million answers to that question, seeing as no one got anything done last week. Diamonds, finish the base, make traps, go to the nether; but of course what they’d like to do didn’t matter so much as what they could do once the wildcard hit. “Dunno. Some mining, maybe hit the nether if Grian hasn’t rigged it to explode or sumfing. I need redstone and gunpowder.”

“Ooo, yeah, the nether sounds good. I don’t know if they’ve found the fortress yet, so maybe there’s still some potion stuff left.”

The moment the last piece of toast was in his mouth Gem was snatching his plate out from under him and dumping it in the sink.

“Oi!”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Well, might as well get started on the list. “If gonna try to finish the base while nofing’s going on, head’s up for falling deepslate in here!”

“If you get rock dust in my kitchen I’ll put you on yellow!” She called after him.

The base was coming along nicely, it just needed a few finishing touches. Trim here and there, polish the windows, sand off a few edges. He grabbed his tools from the starter base and climbed up onto the hood of the car. Maybe he could even finish before the session started.

“Joel! Wildcard!”

He could not. Joel sighed and set down his tools as the colourful ellipses appeared in his vision and Gem came outside. They had to be prepared for anything, and it was much safer to find out the gimmick together. They both braced for the worst. Floor is lava? Levitation? Permanent nighttime? More snails?

A Wildcard is Active.

The two of them did a hasty once-over of themselves.

“Hearts and hunger are the same,” Gem reported.

“No effects, and you’re not dying right now so no floor-is-lava. Darn, I was hoping for that one.” He didn’t feel any different, and nothing around them seemed immediately strange. It was almost more unsetting that he couldn’t pinpoint the twist right away.

“You were hoping I would die?” Gem asked incredulously.

“No, no, but you know what I mean. I was so sure that’d be one of them!” He patted himself down. “I don’t feel weird. Do I look weird?”

“More than normal? No.” She smirked.

“Wow, rude!”

He was about to accept that maybe Grian had miraculously decided to do something low-key this session. Maybe it was nether-based or mob-based and wouldn’t be nearly as big a deal as the murder snails and the hunger. Sure, it would put a mild spanner in the works but they would live. But then he felt it. His entire body suddenly felt… buzzy. Like pins and needles all over.

“Um, actually… Maybe I do feel a bit weird…”

Gem shifted from foot to foot, rubbing a hand up and down her arms. “You feel it too? What is that?” Her eyes widened. Uh oh. “Oh my— Joel, you’re smoking!”

“I know that Gem, but I’m married so—“ Oh. Sure enough, his arms were giving off a faint purple mist, and now that he noticed it, so was Gem. “Woah, you’re smoking too! What on earth is this? Gah, I hate this feeling!”

In seconds the smoke went from tiny wisps to thick fog that surrounded him completely, and he could just barely make out Gem disappearing behind her own cloud as the smoke consumed him and everything went dark.

Then a moment later he was back again, lying face down on the car and tingly all over. He groaned. Was it weakness? Why did he feel like he was just tossed around by a ravager? He went to sit up and was rocked by a wave of dizziness. “Ugh, oh dear…” He mumbled, and then slowly his words caught up to his spinny brain.

Something was wrong with his voice. It was higher, and weirder.

“Joel!?” Came a squeaky cry from the ground, one that sounded eerily familiar.

He shuffled forward to the edge of the base and oh, that was a long way down. Standing in a fun-size suit of armour and using a sword much too big for her to prop herself up was Gem. Tiny Gem. She looked no older than seven, maybe eight at the absolute most.

“Gem! What’s happened to you?” He called down, and yeah, his voice was definitely wrong.

“Me? What about you? You’re teeny!”

He took a proper look at himself and his new tiny body, squishy arms, and stubby hands. Oh, this was terrible.

“Are we all kids? Is that the twist!? That’s horrible!” How were they supposed to survive like this!?

Gem fumbled to pull out her spyglass and looked across the field to their neighbours. “No, not everyone! Tango’s still big over there, but Etho and Bdubs are little!”

“So only some of us? And we both get made into stupid toddlers? That’s not fair!” He pouted.

Their communicators were suddenly flooded with messages, mostly panicked gibberish from everyone who had been baby-fied and gushing from everyone who hadn’t. From the looks of it every group had at least one normal adult; between Scott, Cleo, Pearl, and Impulse there were three, except for them.

“This is bad, right?” Gem asked nervously, “There’s yellows and reds and if they know we don’t have someone protecting us… what if they kill us?” Joel hadn’t even thought of that. “Come down from there, we should find a place to hide!”

He went to climb down, but stopped when he saw the steep drop down the windshield to the ground. Suddenly his stomach was twisting into knots and he couldn’t bring himself to slide down. “Uh…”

“What’s wrong?” Gem asked with a look of growing worry, “Are you… scared?”

Joel’s ears burned. “N-no! Just, um…” So it was messing with their heads as well.

Gem seemed to understand, and careful to stay out of sight from their nosy neighbours, she crept around to the front of the car and built up a few blocks. When she got close enough, she held out her arms for him to slide into. “I’ll catch you.”

Absolutely not. He would rather die right then and there. “I don’t need your help!”

Gem rolled her eyes. “Sure you don’t, now come on, before someone sees us!” She hissed.

Without much of a choice, Joel took a deep breath and pushed himself down the hood of the car with a squeak and landed safely in Gem’s arms. Once he was safely back on solid ground, she immediately began to manhandle him.

“C’mon, c’mon!” She dragged him by the hand to their starter base and to his dismay, she was indeed much taller than he was, and she was able to pull him like he was a bundle of feathers. “Grab as much food and stuff as you can.” She said, and began rifling through their chests.

“Wha— okay, where’re we going?” The chests were so hugehe almost couldn’t reach into the bottom and he had to stand on his tip-toes to reach a pile of bread.

“We’re gonna hide underground. No one’s gonna wanna come look for us down there.” Gem said, like she’d thought the whole thing through already. She dropped a stack of torches and loose coal into her inventory.

“For all week? That’s a long time.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why we’re getting all this stuff. We can come back up for food if we really gotta, but we can’t let anyone know that we’re both kids. That’d be super bad.”

Joel snickered. “You’re talkin’ funny.”

She scoffed, offended. “Am not! And don’t be mean to your elders!”

“You are not my elder! Look at you!”

“Uh-huh, and what does that make you? Look how small you are compared to me! You’re just a baby!” She teased, ruffling his hair.

“Oi, you—“

“—Gem? Joel? Are you here?”

They froze. Bdubs. And where there was Bdubs, there was Tango, and Tango was red. Gem hurried them to the wall and dug into it, boxing them in. They both held their breaths as multiple sets of feet walked around their base, and for some reason the whole thing felt a lot scarier than it should’ve been.

“Awe, they’re not here.” Bdubs.

“Do you think they’re kids, too?” Etho.

“Oh, I wanna see kid-Joel so bad! I bet he’d be real tiny.”

“C’mon Dubs, let’s go find the others.”

The footsteps walked away, and they both let out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s dig down.” Gem whispered. She lit a torch and the little box they were crammed in filled with light, which he liked a lot more than the dark. Joel tried his best to stay out of her way as she began to dig a tunnel down, and he was put on torch-duty, keeping it lit all the way down.

After what felt like forever, they finally hit a cave. It was really dark, which was both good and bad. Good because it meant no one had been there yet, and bad because Joel was very quickly learning his little kid brain didn’t like the dark very much.

“I don’t hear any monsters.” Gem said, peering into the hole, “Gimme the torches.” She took one more look around, then scooted down from their safe ledge into the cave. The torch in her hand lit up the walls around them just enough for him to see just how much further the cave went. It was already huge, but it seemed even huger because they were so small. The empty void made his stomach feel fluttery. He took out his sword and gripped it tight.

“Put the torches down, Gem! So the mobs don’t spawn!” He said urgently. Gem turned around and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re really jumpy, huh?” She smiled.

“I-I’m not! We just have to be careful. What— w-what if mobs do more damage ‘cause we’re tiny? Didjya ever think of that, Ms. Not— uh, Afraid?”

It was meant to be a jab but she just started giggling. “This is adorable. You look so pouty!”

She was so busy laughing at his expense she didn’t notice the creeper emerging from the darkness and scuttling towards her.

“Gem, watch out!”

She whirled around just in time to pull up her shield before the creeper blew up in her face and sent her staggering back into the wall.

“Are you okay!?” He called, timidly crouching over the ledge.

Gem chuckled nervously, brushing off some of the stone bits that got on her clothes and hair. “Yep, all good! Maybe the torches are a good idea…”

As Gem placed down torches he cautiously climbed down into the cave, keeping a sweaty hold on the handle of his shield. He hated just how blummin’ nervous he felt. He shouldn’t have cared if it was dark or if there might be monsters lurking around the corner, but suddenly the thought of leaving the light and Gem’s side was the worst thing ever. Stupid kid brain, stupid kid body.

“Okay! We’re okay, we’re fine.” She chirped, “We’ve got torches, an’ our swords and shields, we’ll be fine.” It sounded like she was telling herself that just as much as she was telling him, which strangely did make him feel better. At least we wasn’t the only scaredy-cat, even if Gem was better at hiding it than him. “Let’s go find some iron. We might even be deep enough to find diamonds!”

Right. Diamonds, iron, focus on that. “We’re gonna be so rich, Gem. All those silly fools up there are gonna be freakin’ out about being stupid babies and we’re gonna have full diamond!”

“There, that’s the spirit. Do you— um...” She offered her hand to him with a small smile. “You can be our shield, and I’ll protect us with the sword. How’s that sound?”

Joel scowled at her hand and reluctantly, to the death of his pride, took it. This was the worst day. He was going to have a talk with Grian when this was all over. The jerk was probably an adult as well, knowing him and the stupid universe. “Fine. But only for teamwork.”

“Teamwork.” Gem agreed, and they descended into the darkness.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Gem asked, throwing a few more loose pieces of wood into their little campfire.

It wasn’t. Sure, the dark still wasn’t very nice and they hadn’t had much luck with diamonds, but their trek through the cave got them a lot of iron, nearly a stack between them. “I wasn’t worried. I knew we were gonna be fine the whole time.”

“Uh-huh. And when you screamed like a girl ‘cause you saw a spider you were totally gonna take it down, right?”

He nodded, dumping as much raw iron as he could fit into the furnace. “Yep, you just got their first. Silly Gem, stealin’ my kills.”

Even though he’d been trying not to think about it, he appreciated what Gem was doing. Both of their minds were being affected by the wildcard, but it was embarrassingly obvious that he had it worse, probably because he seemed to be the ‘younger’ of the two of them. And all the while dealing with her own nervousness and keeping them safe, she was talking to him like a normal person and keeping him steady. The good-natured ribbing they exchanged kept everything feeling light when the scary cave sounds started to get to him, and she wasn’t being overbearing or babying him. It was almost like session one again; a normal day, just ever so slightly shorter than two blocks tall.

“Here, pork chop’s ready.” Gem passed him a stick with a cut of cooked pork chop skewered on it. Even without any seasonings, it smelled delicious.

“Fanks, Gem.” He devoured the whole thing in a few large bites, much to Gem’s disgust. One of the few upsides to being so small was that they were going through much less food than usual, and one pork chop was all he needed to feel properly full again.

“So,” He burped, “We’re really gonna stay down here all week?”

Gem nodded and started making something on the crafting table. “Thas’ the plan.”

“Aw, but that’s a bit boring, isn’t it? I wanna have some fun too…” He kicked a little stone away and the clacking echoed off the walls.

“Do you wanna have fun, or do you wanna stay alive?”

How could she be so tiny and still act like such a mum? “Stay alive, I guess.” He pouted.

She turned around and laid a thin wool sleeping bag on the floor with the tiniest pillow Joel had ever seen. “That’s what I thought. I’ll take first watch. I didn’t bring enough wool, so sorry it’s not very good...”

There was no way he could be upset about the sleeping bag, not when she was making that face. If they were on the surface, Joel was sure Gem could get them whatever they wanted just by giving someone puppy eyes. “No, no, it’s fine! It looks super comfy, in fact.” He crawled over to it and nestled inside to show her. Stones dug into his back. “See? I could fall asleep right now.” He made an exaggerated yawn.

Gem chuckled. “I ‘precicate it, but you don’t hav’ta lie. Your pudgy little face doesn’t hide anything.”

“Going to sleep now!” He yelled, turning over and pressing his face into the pillow. “Honk-shoo, honk-shoo, see? Sleeping.”

“Have a good sleep, Joel.”

“Joel, get up, get up, come on!”

Joel barely had time to remember where he was before a hand grabbed him roughly by the wrist and then they were running. His half-asleep legs stumbled to catch up and Gem was half-dragging him, and between his bleary eyes and the unlit cave he could barely see where they were going.

“Gem, what on earth— what’s going on!? What are we runni—“ Two arrows whizzed past his head much too close for comfort, and that woke him up.

“There were so many, I—I couldn’t kill them all!” Gem exclaimed. They took a hard left at a fork and two more zombies joined the chase from the right. There were at least six mobs behind them, probably more. There was no time to pull out their shields, they’d surely be overwhelmed instantly, which meant they’d just have to find a place to hide.

“Gem this is bad, this is so bad!”

Gem cried out as an arrow lodged itself in her shoulder, and then another. “I-I know, I know, keep running!”

They rounded another corner and skidded to a halt. Dead end. Joel raised his shield to catch another arrow but the mobs were getting close fast. They were dead.

He yelped as Gem grabbed him by the scruff and pushed him into a corner. “Ow! Gem, what—?” She began haphazardly surrounding him in cobblestone, and Joel’s stomach dropped. “Wait, G-Gem, what are you— what are you doing?”

“I’m low, my shield’s almost gone,” She panted, and her splitting shield took another hit, this time from the zombie at the head of the pack gnawing viciously at the wood. “Stay in here, I’ll come back for you, okay?”

“Gem, no!” His heart was pounding. He could only see a sliver of Gem’s scared but resigned expression through the gap now. More zombies caught up, groaning and forcing her back. “Gem—!”

The last block slid into place and he was plunged into darkness just as the message rang out.

Geminitay was slain by a zombie

This wildcard is a nightmare.

Jimmy watched, exhausted, as Lizzie tried to coach Scar up a tree for the third time. While a good “parent” might have stopped it by now, falling out of a tree was about the safest thing they had been up to over the last twenty-four hours. If all he had to do was pass out snacks for regen every time Scar fell, that was fine by him.

He truly believed Grian’s games simply hated him personally. Why else would he be the only adult in his team? Theyellow life, the canary, the one who attracted death, keeping two children safe. What was the universe thinking? And of course in all the nonsense he hardly had any time to think about how he was going to get his next kill. Lizzie had been trying to help, but most of her ideas ended up drifting in a fantastical or hypothetical Jimmy-is-suddenly-amazing-at-pvp scenario and hadn’t come to fruition.

“Jimmy, look! I made it!”

Sure enough, Scar had finally managed to clamber up next to Lizzie on the branch, smiling proudly down at him.

“Wow, look at that! Don’t fall, please, I’m running out of bread!”

“I won’t, I’m being very careful.” Scar waved him off, then wobbled and caught himself. “See? Careful.”

“Mm-hm.”

Bzz-bzzt.

Oh? What’s gone on now? He pulled out his communicator.

Geminitay was slain by a zombie

<Smajor1995: ???>

<Grian: red/yellow kill??>

<BDoubleO100: gem’s baby I kno it>

Huh. Gem and Joel had been missing for the entire session so far, and for her to die to a zombie of all things, she must have been seriously caught off-guard. Or small, came the thought, but even then Joel probably would have been looking after her, what with his whole “family” bit. Was he seriously being a better parent than Joel right now? He smiled to himself. What an idea.

And so, continuing his streak of great parenting, he went back to supervising.

“Wo-OAH!”

And down Scar went, taking Lizzie with him and hitting the ground with a thump.

“Owwww, Scaaar! That hurt!” Lizzie whined.

“Sorry, sorry! I was tryin’a get higher!”

Jimmy just sighed and fished two more loaves of bread from his inventory. “Come on now, no arguing, just take your bread.”

Thankfully, even though Lizzie and Scar had proven themselves to be quite the tiny squabblers so far, the snacks seemed to settle them enough to just sticking their tongues out at one another and throwing crumbs. It was in the middle of their picnic when he heard someone yelling his name, and he turned to see Gem running towards him. Sure enough, she was a kid maybe the same age as Lizzie, and she looked all out of sorts.

“Gem! Where’ve you been, eh? What’s going on?”

“Y-You gotta— you—“ She gasped, out of breath and stumbling over her words, “You— we need help!”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “What? Slow down, who’s ‘we’? You and Joel?”

Gem nodded quickly. “We— we were in a cave and I was s’posed to protect him b-but I couldn’t an’ there w-were so many mobs an’—!“

“Hey, hey, woah, easy.” He knelt down in front of her and put his hands on her small shoulders. This was still so weird. “Deep breaths, ready? In…” She took a harsh breath in. “Out.” She released it. “Now, tell me what’s happened.”

Gem swallowed hard and Jimmy swore he could see the faintest hint of tears forming in her eyes. “Me and Joel are b-both kids, a-and I said we should hide ‘cause we had no adult to protect us so we went into a cave. I-It was my idea an’ I was s’posed to keep him safe, b-but there were so many mobs and—and I di-died and now Joel’s trapped down there and it’s all my fault!” She blurted, and a few stray tears fell down her cheeks.

Oh boy. “Well, that is a lot, isn’t it?” He said rather stupidly, and then rushed to correct himself when Gem’s face scrunched up like she was about to start bawling, “B-But don’t worry, we’ll get this all sorted, yeah? Where is he? I’ll help you rescue him.”

“In a cave under our base. I gotta show you, w-we dug it ourselves.” She sniffled, seemingly calming down. Thank admins.

“Alright, well…” He looked over to Lizzie and Scar, who were watching with wide eyes. “Lizzie, I put you in charge. Go inside with Scar and play some board games or something until I get back. Or go play with the neighbours, whatever, just something safe, alright?”

Lizzie got a look of genuine seriousness about her and nodded, and the two of them ran off towards the mountain.

Jimmy offered his hand to Gem. “Alright, lead the way.”

The staircase down into their cave was a tight squeeze, but once they were in the mouth of the cave opened up considerably. For an undiscovered cave it was very large and, other than a few of Gem’s stray torches, very dark.

“Jimmyyy!” Gem urged, “Hurry, this way!”

“Right, right, hurrying!”

He heard the mobs before he saw them, and there were a lot. At least two skeletons, a handful of zombies, and a spider. No wonder they’d been overwhelmed, even he was going to need to be careful about this. He motioned for Gem to stay back and brought up his shield, steeling himself with a breath for courage. Why Gem came to him with this was beyond him, but there was no turning back now. Joel needed him. Heck, Gem needed him. He peered around the corner where the pack was clustered around a cobblestone box and noticed a single creeper mixed into the bunch. Bingo.

“Hey, big stupid mobs! Come and get me!” He shouted, and the entire group turned to come towards him. The creeper scuttled faster, pushing its way to the front, exactly what he was hoping for. He hid behind his shield as they all clustered together and the creeper hissed to life.

BOOM

The only surviving skeleton was easy to cut down with his sword, and he let out a huff of relief as the bones clattered to the floor. He did it. Holy moly he did it.

“Joel!” Gem rushed past him to the cobblestone box and he followed close behind.

He helped her break away the cobblestone, and inside the box with not so much as a torch sat Joel, who was maybe even younger than Scar, curled in on himself and shaking like a cold strider. A tiny part of Jimmy, the tiniest, ugliest part, whispered in his ear how easy it would be to get a dark green kill right now. How simple. But he shut it down. No. Not like this.

“I-I don’ l-like this wildcard…” Joel whined, before bursting into tears.

“Oh Joel, buddy, it’s alright…” Jimmy tried to comfort. His hands hovered uncertainly. A quick glance at Gem told him she wasn’t doing much better and was just barely keeping it together. He needed to come up with something quickly.

Without stopping to consider the possible awkward consequences, he did the first thing he could think of. He reached down and scooped Joel into his arms.

“Hey, shhh, you’re alright, you’re okay… shhh. Uncle Tim’s gotcha now, everything’s gonna be A-OK.” He hushed, letting every soothing phrase he could think of tumble out of his mouth like alphabet soup. He threw in a little gentle rocking, pet Joel’s hair, anything he could think of until finally the shaking and crying began to settle. The shoulder of his jacket was soaked through with snot and tears by the time Joel properly came back around, but that was fine. He would just have to dunk it in the river or something later.

Joel sniffled and sat up slightly, using one hand to scrub at his face while the other stayed firmly clutched in his shirt. “Ugh… sorry about that, Jim. This whole kid ‘fing sucks…”

“…Joel? Are you okay?” Gem mumbled, face flushed and eyes puffy.

Joel thought for a second, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just got a bit scary there, y’know? Stupid baby brain didn’ like the dark.”

“M’so sorry…” She warbled, sounding on the edge of tears again, and Jimmy had to put a stop to that right away.

“Nope, no more crying!” He announced, maybe a bit too loudly, “Everything’s alright now. You did the best you could, Gem. See? Joel’s still on six lives because of you.”

“But I—“

“No buts! You did a good job protecting Joel, and Joel was very brave for staying safe down here by himself. Can we all agree?”

“Haha, butts.” He heard Joel mutter against his shirt. Jimmy counted that as a win.

“Perfect. Now we’re all going to get out of this cave, and you two can spend the night with the Bamboozlers, how does that sound?”

“Like a sleepover?” Gem tilted her head like a puppy, and now that they weren’t in a crisis, man, these guys were cute.

“Yeah, like a sleepover. C’mon now, I’ve got to get back to Lizzie and Scar before they destroy the server.” He went to set Joel down, only for him to cling tighter and wrap his legs around his torso like a koala. Jimmy was happy to keep carrying him; if he was being honest he expect Joel to start thrashing to be let go the moment he came back to himself, but if he still needed it then Jimmy certainly wasn’t going to judge. Plus, one day it was going to be an amazing story to hold over his head. Maybe not today, but someday.

“So,” Joel said, a cheeky smile on his face as they started up to the surface, “‘Uncle Tim’, huh?”

Jimmy wordlessly reached over and pushed Joel’s head back against his shoulder. “Hush.”

#agere blog #age regression #fandom agere #age regression/de-aging #de-aging #wild life smp #agere fanfic #smallishbeans #geminitay #jimmy solidarity #trafficblr #traffic agere #hermit agere #literal age regression #soon to be a series #hopefully #life series #3rd life

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youvegotmailpdf · 1 year ago

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lorelais weird beef with jess in s2 is like. u are a grown woman. moreover the weird bit where she kinda sorta prioritizes her daughter's whiny bf over her actual daughter is. u are a grown woman and that is a teenage manchild.

#watching s2 ep19 rn which is like. lorelai 'i can't lie to dean why are you asking me to lie to dean' its like.. i know everyone and their #mother on this website says it that deans clinginess and anger borders on emotional abuse and lorelai encourages it? sort of? and its so #annoying. especially in this episode where its like so insane that rory doesn't say something about it. then again i guess it doesn't go #in line with the writers' dean most perfect bf alive shtick. but if u want him to be perfect then write him better and less annoying?#also lorelais hatred hatred of a 17yo kid is sooo strange when they have her as this totally understanding empathetic adult and she suddenl #can't empathize with the kid who is arguably the most like her and maybe needs it the most. so ooc. and annoying.#PLUS most especially her freak out at luke after the car accident is sooo #batshit insane yelling at luke that he has an obligation to rory and her over his nephew its like. hm. are u fr. also acting like a hairlin #fracture is the most terrible thing to ever happen ever!!! get a grip its so annoying how she goes on and on about it like its catastrophic #i get the overreacting mother bit. obviously. but this is still so stupid insane.#i love lorelai but this ep is her worst maybe. on par with the s7 arc #and speaking of christopher hayden is sooo smarmy and disgusting acting like superdad for one and a half episode before he fucks off to be #a dickhead again. so annoying that my most beloved episode ever is so annoying in its last 10 minutes

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exoscreamsoda · 4 months ago

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im finally not jobless

it took me 200+ applications (not on indeed but directly on compan websites) and almost 2 years since graduating college (WHERE I EARNED A BACHELORS WITH CUM LAUDE HONORS). im 24 years old and i was just now able to secure a job that wasn't given to me out of pity. it should NOT have taken me 6 years of adulthood to get even a chance at having a normal life, out of those 200 applications i only had 3 interviews, all online except for this final one. it should NOT be this hard to get a job in a country with help wanted signs everywhere. i wish every single ceo/boss/boomer in this country had to go through the pain and suffering of job hunting when you have no nepotism to help you.

#my 1st job was chipotle. my friend was manager and her manager said he wouldnt have hired me if she wasnt my friend #thats such a cold thing to say to someone #i only lasted 2 weeks because my feet were bleeding from standing all day and i couldnt handle the amount of work for the pay. and customer #my 2nd job was a factory type job where my mom and dad work. i was being yelled at by my mom/supervisor all day and only getting a few hrs #of sleep because i was still a full time student #i lasted 3 months #my 3rd job was being a caregiver for my aunt who had a stroke. she died in december #its so upsetting typing out the amount time i wasted trying to get SOMEWHERE in life #i dont even have a car because ive never had enough money. no apartment after college #ive suffered too long #i didnt expect to get this one. i have clear social anxiety with autistic traits #maybe because i expected nothing i managed to survive the interview #this job only required a high school diploma. i think they still wouldnt have hired me if i didnt go to college #job hunting #new job #suffering #pain #recruitment #united states #personal rant #rant post #crying #nepotism #boomer #$17 an hour. originally it was $14 on the application.

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featherymainffins · 5 months ago

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Why you all got ok mothers leave some for the rest of us

#hello?????#my mother had me exorcised when i was 16 #or 17 #my father beat my mother when i was a kid and would randomly lash out based on literally nothing #calling me (aged 3-14) and my mother cunts and whores and all kinds of slurs and threatening to beat or kill us #and every once in a while he'd just get up and leave for a week without telling anyone. we had only one car so mother had #to find alternative ways to get to work (grandparents had no car at the time) (we lived in a tiny rural village)#when he came back he never apologized and just told my mother 'you know how i am. what else do you even expect?'#he also threatened to beat me up whenever i cried or got scared or sad or embarrassed. i was not allowed to be anything but #happy. anger was also allowed but obviously not towards my parents. if i did that i would get locked in a room for several hours #if i self-harmed while locked in there i got yelled at but that just told me that i needed to self-harm more to please my parents #i think i internalised that because when i disobeyed them when i was very small (like...3-5 years) they'd spank me with a wooden spoon or #give me a strong head slap or two. i came to expect violence and when they stopped because it just made me more volatile #i felt the need to enact that expected violence upon myself.#i was unimaginably afraid for my life and for my mother's life until i was about 14. i used to pray for my father's death #but then again i prayed for my mother's death too #i had nightly night terrors about coming home from school and seeing blood everywhere and him kneeling over my mother's corpse #a lot of my good dreams revolved around killing him. i dreamed of coming home before he could kill her and stopping him #in a way i dreamed of being at least 50% safe.#both of my parents also beat me for being neurodivergent and lashes oit whenever i asked too many questions or couldn't #understand something. i always got either the r slur or i got told that I'm just playing a r*tard #to spite and anger them. everything i did in my life was specifically to anger them in their eyes.#i hated both of them so so much and i loved both of them so much and I didn't know how to put it all together #i hated that the father who took me to fairs and played football with me was the father whose touch had a 70 % chance of being violent #i flinched when seeing a hand move until i was 19 and screamed when getting hugged by anyone until i turned 17 #my mother's physical violence was something other adults found funny - if she didn't spank me with a spoon; she'd #hit my arms until they got all red and numb and my crying just made her angrier. she still does this. I'm 22.#but when i accidentally ask the wrong question - the retarded one - when i do something to set her off she just hits my #arm until it doesn't even hurt anymore because i stop feeling it altogether. i don't cry because of the pain but because I'm scared #and sorry and embarrassed and guilty. and anyway we don't have tags left for my mother's abuse

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adamsandgirl · 4 months ago

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You ever overhear a stranger and want to just crash your car into theirs in the parking lot?

#this isn’t recent but this is about a woman in the Walmart parking lot who’s car was parked next to mine #I think she was a mom though she could have been an older sister #she was on her phone while the older of the two young boys with her grabbed a cart and brought it to the driver’s side of her car #and I thought he seemed like a nice boy going out of the way to get a cart for his mother to bring it to her #and she proceeded to get mad and yell at him and call him the r slur for bringing it so close to her car #even though it was not close enough to scratch it #and then proceeded to take the cart and go back on her phone #and in that moment I want to punch her or scratch her car up or something #it’s been over a week but I still think about it #I hate people who treat kids like that. literally what is your fucking problem

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 3 months ago

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Tag Team (Deadpool/Wolverine)

Description: Wade is distracted during a mission so afterwards all 3 of them fuck in the Honda.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,773k

Request:

IM OBSESSED WITH WADE AND LOGAN AS A TEAM... May I request a smut where both of them fuck fem!Reader?

Idk reader could also be a hero and it happens during a mission, I trust your writing!!!

Wade had been distracted the entire mission. It was to the point that Logan was getting annoyed with him even more than usual. Y/N had no clue what they were fighting about but was also annoyed with both of them. “Can you guys shut the fuck up?” She growled at them. They both stopped arguing and looked at her, “Can you stop being so hot?” Wade asked. She rolled her eyes and put her finger to her mouth to shush him. “Yes mommy.” Logan looked at him with disgust.

Wade was a kinky son of a bitch but Logan never got used to it. They were trying to kill bad guys but Wade was about to ruin it. Y/N had been so into the mission she had failed to see both of them checking her out. She did have blood all over her but what was new? Wade and Logan both had it bad for the girl but Y/N was oblivious. Before Wade could say anything else the bad guys appeared and they had to kill.

Y/N shot at them, never missing. Logan clawed them up and managed to get more blood on them than before. Wade? Well he was still distracted and barely did anything, “WHAT THE FUCK, WADE?” Y/N yelled at him. She pulled him right out of his dirty thoughts. “Y/N and I just did all the work.” Logan added. “Well my bad that I can’t stop thinking about taking you both to a whole new world of pleasure.” Y/N stared at him with a blank look.

She was really tired of him acting like this, especially on a mission. “Well next time don’t come.” She said and walked away from him. Logan followed but not before growling at him. “Oh come on! You guys act like this isn’t hot as fuck.” He whined, catching up to them. “What’s hot about killing people, Wade?” “EVERYTHING!!” Y/N sighed and stopped walking. “Wade, I’m very flattered but now is not the time.” She said to him. “Wait so there’s a time?” He asked. She sighed and started walking again.

The Honda Odyssey was the only “bed” that they had which sucked ass but it had to work. They all reeked of blood and guts but Wade couldn’t stop thinking about fucking Y/N in it. “So about earlier, is now the time?” He asked. Logan rolled his eyes and Y/N sighed. She sat up in the backseat and stared at him.

He was still wearing his mask and Logan took his off. “Wade, don’t you wanna fuck in a bed?” She asked, looking around the car. “Honey, I would fuck you in a volcano.” Yeah cuz that was a turn on. She looked at Logan, “What about you?” She asked him. He opened his eyes to look at her, “I wouldn’t fuck you in a volcano but this is all we have.” She laughed at his words and put her weapons on the floor.

“Alright guys. Let’s have some fun.” Wade was out of the car and to the backseat before she could finish her sentence. Logan got on the other side of her and she looked between them, “I’m not sure how this will wo-” Both of them attached their mouths to her neck. She gasped at the sudden action of them and she never noticed that Wade lifted his mask. Their lips moved sloppily on her neck, leaving marks. She gripped both of their necks and pulled them closer. They both placed a hand on her upper thigh and she leaned back against the seat, taking them with her.

Her eyes were closed as they marked her neck until she had purple spots. Logan moved down to her cleavage and Wade’s hand brushed against her pussy. She gasped at the feeling of both of them. Logan kissed and sucked the top of boob while Wade managed to get his fingers in her body suit to her bare pussy, “Holy shit.” She breathed out and he chuckled. “Ya like that princess?” Wade asked as his fingers rubbed her clit.

She was soaked and had been for a few hours now. Logan moved from her tit to the floor and spread her legs. “Move your fingers you Merc.” Logan said to Wade. Wade whined but did anyway so Logan could feast on her pussy. “Take this off.” He demanded her. She undid her body suit and Logan helped her get it off until she was fully naked in nothing but gloves and her boots. Logan chuckled as he looked at her wet pussy.

He sniffed her and sighed, “Fuck darling you smell delicious.” He told her and licked up her clit. She threw her head back and moaned. Wade watched as Logan ate her out and got even harder. He looked at Y/N who had her eyes closed and her breathing was harder. He leaned back too and turned her head towards him and kissed her. She weakly kissed back and moaned into his mouth. Logan was eating her out like an animal eating its first meal.

It was everything. Her hands gripped his hair making him moan into her pussy. The vibration made her whine and Wade stuck his tongue in her mouth. She let his tongue explore her mouth and Logan’s explored her pussy. Her hips bucked into his mouth and she shuddered at how close she was, “I’m gonna cum!” She whined into the kiss. “Cum on his beautiful face.” Wade told her and that did it. She fucked her hips up into his face and came all over. Wade praised her as she rode her sweet orgasm.

Logan flattened his tongue as she did all the work until the pleasure was gone. He pulled away from her pussy and smirked at her. She loved the sight of him covered in her cum. Wade did as well, “Damn wish that was me.” Logan got back onto the seat next to her and kissed her, giving her a taste. She moaned into his mouth. “Fuck that’s so hot.” Wade said. Y/N pulled away from the kiss and moved to kiss Wade giving him a taste as well. While they were kissing she took his mask off and threw it on the ground. Wade was never insecure around them.

They made him feel loved. She broke the kiss and moved in between his legs. He looked down in shock as she pulled out his dick. “Kiss.” She told them and without protest they did. She smirked as she watched for a second before running her pretty fingers over Wade’s cock. He gasped into the kiss. She wrapped her hand around him and jerked him off a few times before taking him into her mouth. Her mouth was the best thing to fuck.

It was wet and warm and felt so good. She placed her hands on his thighs and gave him the best blow job of his life. Wade was the loudest one out of the three of them. He fucked up into her mouth as the car rocked. The windows steamed up as they kissed and she gave him the best blow job ever. “Fuck. Your mouth is amazing, baby.” He moaned.

Logan watched as his dick went in and out of her mouth. Sure her mouth was good but her pussy was even better. Logan and Wade stopped kissing once Wade got really close. He threw his head back and cried out as he came in her throat. She pulled off of him and pulled Logan down for a kiss. She let Wade’s cum travel into Logan’s mouth and he swallowed. Wade gasped as he had never seen anything like that before.

Y/N smirked at him and got back in between them. “So I want all or nothing. You both have to be inside of me at the same time.” She says and they both nod before getting naked. She got on the center console of the car and they both managed to get their dicks in her at the same time. Their car was small but it managed to work. Y/N gasped at both of them penetrating her at the same time. Logan tried to let her adjust to the size but Wade didn’t care and started thrusting.

Her moans were loud inside the car and it felt very hot. Her jaw was dropped and her bloody hair was wet with sweat as well. Wade laid his head on the head of the carseat and groaned out. Logan who had more stanamia than both of them was fucking her fast and hard. Wade tried to keep up but it felt better this way.

“Shit you both are so fucking good.” She whined as one dick would hit her spot and then the other would right after. “You’re one to talk princess, your pussy is so perfect.” Wade groaned. Her moans turned to screams as she started thrusting back on them. The perfect rhythm began and all 3 of them were making loud noises. The heat of the car made things more intense.

Logan’s hand that was gripping one side of her hip was squeezing to the point of bruises. Y/N wished more than anything that she could see how fucked out they both looked but that was the con with doggy style. Especially in a small car. Wade groaned as he felt her pussy squeeze them, “Fuck princess, I’m about to cum.” He announced.

Y/N smirked before moaning as she squeezed them tighter cuz a loud moan to release from Logan. He barely moaned but when he did it was amazing and hot. “Fuck sweetheart, If you do that again I’m gonna cum too.” “That’s the plan.” She whimpered and squeezed them. “Where do ya want it, pretty girl?” “Inside of me. Both of you.” She cried as she too felt closer to the edge.

Wade groaned loudly as he came hard inside of her pretty pussy. Logan was a few seconds later and stilled behind her as he came. Y/N helped them ride it out as she came next screaming their names. The car smelled of sweat and sex as they both pulled out of her. Wade collapsed back against the seat and sighed, “Man I do love a good tag team after a crazy mission.” He said. Logan glared at him, “You didn’t even help.” Y/N turned around to look at the two. “Boys don’t start.” She warned and got in the middle of them. “Maybe if you guys are good we can go for round 2.” She smirked and brought them both in for a kiss.

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call-memissbrightside · 6 months ago

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All I can think about is Katsuki dating someone with a baby—

His friends think it’s a bit odd since he’s in his early thirties and could still mess around before settling down but he’s not having it

You’re a bit nervous to tell him that you had a kid after a few dates, and you think he’s never going to hit you up again when he doesn’t really respond when you tell him, he just drops you off at your place with a emotionless look on his face.

You cry to yourself that night as you put your little girl to bed, and the two year old knows something’s wrong because she’s fussy through the whole night routine. You really liked Bakugou, he made you laugh and respect you but if he can’t accept your daughter than it's not going to work out.

Then the next morning he texts you that he got tickets for three to the local aquarium for the day. You call him, confused.

“That way we can take your daughter?” He’s confused by your question. “Why? Is she too little for the aquarium?”

You’re nervous as hell for him meeting Mai for the first time, but Katsuki is taken back at how your daughter looks just like you. She's adorable, and his stomach flipped taking in how you looked so beautiful in your jeans and simple shirt.

"Hi Mai, I'm Katsuki," He kneels down to the four year old's height but he's so big and the little girl immedietly burst into tears and hides behind your legs.

"Oh honey, it's okay," You coo at her, picking her up. Mai isn't convinced and hides away from Katsuki.

"I'm sorry, she'll warm up," You explain, but you weren't too sure. Mai had a shy personality, and was very attatched to you. You just hoped that Bakugou would be patient with her.

Mai started shedding her shy personality once you arrived at the aquarium.

"Mom, fish!" She yelled in excitement, tugging on your hand to get you to walk faster. Katsuki stands back and just watches you interact with your daughter. He knew he liked you, but seeing you be a mom did something to him and he imagined this being his life forever.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked when you noticed Katsuki seemed distracted.

He opens his mouth to answer but Mai interupts him when she squeals, "Mommy penguins!"

Katsuki was closer to her, and the little girl grabs his hand and drags him through to the penguin exhibit. Bakugou is taken aback, but quickly pushes back his fear of scaring her and kneels down to look at the penguins swimming as Mai squeals in excitement. She can’t pronounce his name correctly, so Mai just addresses him as ‘Suki which warms his heart.

It’s like a switch got flipped and Mai wouldn’t let go of Katsuki’s hand for the remainder of the tour through the aquarium. You stand back, smiling and snapping pictures, just watching as Bakugou showed a much softer side to him.

The day ended with Katsuki buying Mai the biggest stuffed penguin the aquarium store had, and the little girl could barely hold onto it as she fell asleep in her stroller.

“You didn’t have to get her that,” You said, feeling overwhelmed by his gesture.

Bakugou feels a string of anxiety pull in his stomach, wondering now if his actions were seemed as inappropriate.

“I-,” He tries to be truthful, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. Mai just seemed so happy and I wanted to get her something to remember me by.”

That melts your heart, and you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for being so sweet to my baby.”

Katsuki is blushing so hard, his ears are ringing as he helps you by packing down the stroller and putting it in the trunk while you tuck Mai into her car seat. The little girl was out, but still hugging her penguin.

Katsuki keeps the radio low as to not wake Mai as he drives you two home, holding your hand and already planning the next outing.

#sorry this has been in my drafts for so long #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #dad!katsuki #dad!bakugou

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sugume · 9 months ago

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THINK I WANNA HAVE YOUR BABY w/Jujutsu Kaisen

( TW ) f!Reader, Breeding kink, unprotected sex, cream pie, cum inflation, hair pulling, sex toys, overstimulation, stepdad!Toji, daddy kink, overstimulation

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Geto Suguru & Choso Kamo

authors note: repost bc tumblr took it down for no reason...

☾ GOJO SATORU

“Fuck Love, you’re sucking me so good.” Satoru groans, struggling to not crash the car. During dinner, you two kept passing each other such heated looks that even your friends commented on the tension. Earlier today, you got a notification from your health app that you were ovulating. Satoru jumped on you as soon you told him, he wanted to stay in all day and fuck, but your guys’ friends blew up his phone reminding him of the promises you both made to them. After dinner you couldn't keep your hands off each other, you were desperate for his cum and Satoru was desperate to breed you. “Don’t cum ‘Toru.” You warn before sticking his cock back in your mouth. “Can’t help it Love, mouth too fuckin’ good,” he says, sighing in relief when he pulls onto your street, clicking the button in his car that opens the garage. He barely has the chance to take the keys out of the ignition before you pull him out of the car. “Don’t have time to make it up to the bed, just fuck me right here.” You demand, leaning over the car and presenting Satoru with your ass. Satoru pulls your dress up and shoves his cock into your pussy. He reaches over your hip to stimulate your clit. “‘Toru, just cum in me, I don't care ‘bout gettin’ off.” You move your ass in perfect sync with his hips. “You sure Love–” “Breed me ‘Toru!” You moan, feeling his cum fill you up. You drop your head to the still-warm hood of the car, finally able to catch your breath now that his load was deep in your cunt. “C’mon Love, let's finish this in the bedroom.”

☾ TOJI FUSHIGURO

You peak over the corner of the hallway, winking at Toji who was busy talking to your mother. ‘Come fuck me.’ Your mouth once you catch his attention before running back up the stairs, careful not to make any noises. You told your mom that you weren't feeling well, that during the drive back from college you must’ve caught something. In all honestly, you just wanted a chance to freely fuck your stepdad without your mother coming in and out of your room. Specifically, you wanted to be bred by him, and the best way to keep his cum in you was to use several pillows and put them under your ass so his cum didn’t spill out, hence why you didn't want your mom to barge into your room. Thank God she's a germaphobe. You strip out the Pj set you threw on and lay yourself face down, ass up. Your stepdad’s favorite position. As expected, you hear your stepdad softly shut the door a few minutes later. “Desperate now, are we?” He grips your hips. “Always desperate for you Daddy.” you mumble into the bed. “Huh,” he slaps your ass before pulling you up by the hair. “Didn’t hear you slut.” “Said ‘m always desperate for you Daddy, even prepared myself with the dildo you bought me.” You whimper. “Such a good girl,” He pulls his hard cock out of his slacks, gives it a few tugs before stuffing your cunt to the brim. “Now take this dick slut.” He pushes your head down into your lilac duvet. You try and fail to be silent when his dick hits that special spot every time he goes deep enough. “You okay in there, y/n?” You hear your mother's muffled voice through the door. You clench down on your daddy's dick in surprise, causing him to fuck you faster. “Y/n?” “Y-yes mom, I'm fine, just go away p-please.” You gasp out, throwing your head back into the bed in ecstasy when you hear her mumble and walk away. “Daddy, 'm cumming! Cum with me!” You whisper-yell. “Gonna fill this pussy, get you so full of my seed you can never leave this house again.” He grunts, slamming into you at a bruising pace. “Yes, please Daddy, fill me up!” You orgasm and Toji follows suit, filling you with so much cum it spills out.

☾ GETO SUGURU

“I'm so full Sugu.” You mumble, dazed. You fight the urge to close your eyes and fall back into Suguru’s big, warm chest. “Wake up sweet girl. ‘M not done yet.” He mumbles into your sweaty neck. “B-but Sugu–” “Shush Lovebug, one more time.” Suguru looks over your shoulder to see where you two are connected. He plugged you up good, but after so many loads a trickle of his cum slowly travels down his almost empty balls. “O-one more.” You grab his chin and kiss him sweetly. He rubs your noses together before grabbing your hips and moving you down the shaft of his cock. He pays close attention to not pull you over the tip of his cock. You hold onto your stomach, feeling it protrude slightly more than normal, Sugu’s cock and cum inflating you. You feel like a cum filled, flesh light as Sugu moves you to his liking. It’s hard to believe he has more cum in him. “Fuck Lovebug, you feel so warm and tight.” He mummers, giving you a few more neck kisses. You lean closer into him. Right now, you want to live in his skin. “Love you Sugu, can’t wait ta have your baby.” “I Love you too, can’t wait to see you carryin’ my child.” He grips your hips tighter at the thought. “‘bout to fuck another load into you sweet girl, you wan’ it?” “Yes please, more than anything.” You rest your head back into his shoulder. He shrugs at your head until your mouth is close enough to kiss. He slams your hips down and cums as you two make out and whisper sweet nothings.

☾ CHOSO KAMO

“Again, Baby.” Choso holds the vibrator to your clit. You arch your back and forget the fact that you have nipple clamps on. You scream when the clamps move. Your entire body is sensitive, Choso came up with the idea to simulate you to the max when you said you wanted to have his baby, that you wanted him to breed to and fill you to the brim with his cum. You readily agreed to his idea because you knew that the more orgasms you had the better chance you had to get pregnant, something about the virginal walls relaxing when women orgasm. Now though, you’re regretting it. Choso’s been holding the vibrator on your clit for the last hour and every time you think you’ve gone numb to the sensation; he finds a way to make you cum harder than the last. “N-no Choso, ‘m done down, I've cum as I can, wan’ you to fuckmenow!” You slur your words, the pleasure making you lightheaded. “One more Babygirl.” He soothes you, rubbing your stomach and imagining what you’d look like full of his cum. Beautiful, you’d look beautiful. “At least fuck me while you give me another orgasm!” You argue, staring at him with glossed-over puppy eyes. Choso gives in and situates himself between your legs, still holding the vibrator over your clit. You sigh happily when he sets the vibrator down and thrust his cock in you. You thought you were completely numb down there but the feeling of Choso thrusting into your hole that’s been contracting nothing felt godly. Adding that with the vibrator that he put back on your clit, you come immediately. “Choso!” You scream clenching around him so tight he can’t help cumming. “Fuck! ‘M filling you up so good baby!”

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thedisablednaturalist · 1 year ago

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Love that disabled people defending themselves from ableists is apparently a haha funny moment to be put in a cringe compilation :/

#was watching one of my favorite streamers while doing laundry #and someone had submitted a video of a guy yelling at a woman for walking slow infront of his car #like he couldve asked nicely for her to move to the side but what if she was deaf??#hes honking and cursing and eventually she notices #and he gets out of the car and is yelling at her still so she bangs her crutch on his cqr #he gets close to her all while threatening to call the police and screaming so she hits him with her crutch #like the woman is fed up but also obviously scared??#but abled people took the side of the guy #like hes driving down some side street in europe i guess like of course people are going to be walking there #but mr ferrari cant handle waiting even a minute longer and HAS to go 60 mph

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sincerelyneo · 5 days ago

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diet pepsi | n.jm

“losing all my innocence in the back seat”

📀now playing: diet pepsi by addison rae

❯ summary: Jeno has one rule — his little sister is not allowed at street races. Jaemin knows this, and still, he can’t help but feel a thrill when he spots you sneaking out to watch him race. That is, until he sees you with another guy, and suddenly, he’s all in favor of Jeno’s rule. And he’s pretty sure that rule also means he should intervene and give you a ride home.

❯ pairings: jaemin x virgin fem!reader

❯ genre: brother’s best friend, smut, racing!au

❯ words: 5.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, arguing, jealously, pet names, car sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering, virginity loss, slight corruption kink, bit of angst, ‘daddy’ mentioned once but not in a kink way?, jaemin is lowkey a dramatic asshole in the first half, mention of marking, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just a jealous brother’s best friend trope because it eats every time

Jaemin’s blood runs cold when he sees you—wait, what are you even doing here?

He’s never been so tense in the driver’s seat before. He’s usually all calm and controlled, razor-focused on the track, with only one thing on his mind: winning. And he’s pretty damn good at it. But today, he can’t seem to focus. Not with you—Jeno’s little sister—standing right there on the sidelines, sticking out like a beacon in a crowd of rowdy onlookers.

So out of place, timid and awkward. Normally, he’d find it cute if he wasn’t so pissed that you’re even here. You don’t belong among his reckless racer friends, the ones with wandering eyes; and the girls with short skirts, heavy perfume, and sharp eyeliner.

He’s never been this distracted at the starting line before, never found anything particularly interesting to gaze at through his freshly cleaned windshield. But there you are.

Ripped blue jeans clinging to every curve that he’s spent years thinking about—too many nights with his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining how his fingers would mold and print into the soft flesh of your skin. And those cherry-red lips—they make pride swell in his chest, a small thrill from knowing he’s the only racer here with a red car. It’s probably just a coincidence, but Jaemin lets the possessive part of his mind take over, because he wants nothing more than to see that red smeared around your cheeks as he kisses you—wants it to stain him like a claim.

God, what’s he even thinking?

You’re his best friend’s little sister. Off-limits.

Speaking of which, why are you here? Jeno’s not racing tonight, and he’d kill you if he found out. Actually, Jeno would kill him, even though Jaemin had no idea you’d even show up. Jeno hated you being at the races on a good day, let alone when he wasn’t here to keep an eye on things.

And maybe that’s why, for the first time, Jaemin’s gaze drifts to his side mirror as he speeds off. Because Jeno’s not here to watch over you—so he has to. Yeah, that’s it. It’s for Jeno’s sake. Definitely not because he’s worried about you. And definitely not because he likes the way your cherry-red lips part in a cheer—a cheer he likes to imagine is all for him.

Who’s he kidding? Jaemin loves knowing you’re here, watching him race. Honestly, it’s the biggest rush he’s ever felt—the purest shot of adrenaline—and he’s never pushed this hard on the track. But right now, he only wants to win for you.

And he does, slamming on the brakes, coming to a screeching halt the second he crosses the finish line. A few friends clap him on the back as he gets out of his car, congratulating him, but he doesn’t care about them. He only wants you—to hear you say he did great, to see that proud look in your eyes. He wants you to beg him not to yell at you for sneaking in tonight… or worse, promise he won’t tell Jeno.

Except, Jaemin’s not so sure he can negotiate on the “no yelling” part of that deal. Not when he spots you in the crowd, looking up at Jisung. Jisung, who’s got your attention on him instead of his win. Jisung, who’s making you laugh—and Jaemin knows he’s not that funny. Jisung, who’s handing you a can of Diet Pepsi—and you’re just taking it, smiling at him with those red lips, lips that don’t belong to him.

Jaemin knows Jisung doesn’t have a bad bone in his body—Christ, the guy wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he’s one of his racer friends. Still, he doesn’t like the way you lean in when you laugh or how you’re looking up at him with pretty eyelashes fluttering. It makes something stir in him, something sharp and possessive. Without thinking, he storms over, snatching the damn can from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

You gasp, the sound almost too soft, "Woah, Jaem–"

"What are you doing here, Y/N?

You stumble back, heart skipping in your chest. He’s looking at you like he’s about to devour you whole. Gaze locked with yours, primal and urgent, scanning you with a heat that makes your breath hitch, throat going suddenly dry. You came here to see him—no one else. But the way his eyes are on you now...you don’t know whether telling him that would be a good idea.

You swallow hard, feeling small beneath the weight of his stare. “I—uh, I—I’m just… here to watch,” you mumble. "I didn’t think it’d be a big deal..."

Jaemin doesn’t respond right away, his eyes narrowing as they flick over you, then over to Jisung, then back to you. "Alone?" he finally asks. "You just showed up here by yourself?"

“Well yeah–I didn’t think anyone would mind..."

"Jeno’s gonna fucking kill you when he hears about this," he mutters exhaling sharply, the tension in his jaw is visible as he crosses his arms. "You know he doesn’t like you being here.” His eyes flicker to Jisung for a moment before they shift back to you, a little colder. "And I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know you’re accepting drinks from other racers, huh?”

Your brow furrows, a tinge of annoyance creeping in. "It’s just a can of Diet Pepsi, it’s not—"

Jaemin cuts you off. "It doesn’t matter what it is," he snaps. "What matters is that you’re here, without telling anyone where you were going. Without Jeno knowing." He shakes his head in disbelief.

You scoff. "I’m an adult, Jaemin. Jeno’s not my keeper, and neither are you–"

Jaemin’s jaw tightens, and something flickers in his eyes—something dark. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. "That’s not the point, Y/N," he growls, his voice lowering. "The point is you’re here, at a street race, by yourself. You think that’s smart? You think that’s safe?" He takes a step closer. "What if something happened to you?"

"I’m fine, Jaemin. I can take care of myself, okay?" Your voice cracks, frustration spilling out, but the sound doesn’t make Jaemin soften like it usually would.

He steps even closer, towering over you, his presence dominating, and you can feel his breath on your face, hot and quick. “This—this shit—" he gestures around to the crowd, the cars, the racers that surround you both, "this is not safe for you. You shouldn’t be here."

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, jaw set as you refuse to back down. "Why? You and Jeno come here every other weekend?” What’s the big deal?"

"The big deal, Y/N, is that you're a pretty girl, surrounded by a bunch of horny assholes who'd love nothing more than to corrupt a sweet little thing like you."

Your breath catches in your throat, and your mouth goes dry as his words hit you like a punch. You blink, trying to process, but the anger in his eyes is enough to make your pulse quicken. Jaemin must realize what he’s said because there's a brief moment of hesitation. He clears his throat, trying to regain control.

"And you never told anyone," he tries to add, his voice a little less steady now, "And you're letting random guys buy you drinks—"

"I already told you. It was just a Diet Pepsi, Jaemin. You’re blowing this way out of proportion!" You cut him off.

You don’t even know what you’re arguing about anymore— and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t either—it’s like he’s mad for the sake of being mad, the two of you going around in circles.

And frankly, you're tired of it. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You’ve always had a thing for Jaemin, and now was supposed to be your chance—your shot to make him see you as more than just Jeno’s little sister. You knew he’d be distracted with the race, but you thought if you showed up, maybe he’d finally notice you, really see you. But instead, he’s making it perfectly clear that you’ll never be anything more than that girl he feels the need to protect.

“Stop treating me like a child, Jaemin,” you sigh. “I’m not some fragile little girl who needs you to babysit her."

You turn on your heel, ready to walk away from him, but before you can take more than a few steps, Jaemin’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"No. We’re not done talking."

He steps forward again, grip on your limbs tight but not painful, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s pulling you toward the exit, the sound of your shoes hitting the pavement is far too loud in the heavy silence that’s settled.

"Jaemin, wait!" You tug against him, stumbling slightly, trying to free your wrist from his grasp. "I’m not going anywhere with you. I told you, I don’t need you babysitting me—"

"I’m not asking." His voice is low and final. "You’re going home, and you’re going with me."

"Let go of me!" You hiss, still trying to yank free, but he just tightens his grip, pulling you with him as if you’re a ragdoll.

Jaemin finally stops, turning to face you, his eyes sharp with frustration. He growls at your protesting, stepping into your personal space. "I’m taking you home, Y/N. Don’t argue with me."

You stare up at him, chest heaving with anger and something else—something you don’t want to admit to yourself. "You’re insufferable," you mutter, but it’s weak.

You know you’re defeated. There’s no point in fighting him anymore. His presence is suffocating, overwhelming, and every fibre of your body knows he’s not going to let this go until he’s got you back home. You have no choice but to comply really. And you groan whilst slipping into the passenger seat of his car, imagining the story he’s going to muster up for your brother.

Jaemin gets into the driver’s seat, his body tense and irritated, and you almost feel bad that he can’t celebrate his win—almost. He places the can of Diet Pepsi in the cup holder, the soft clink of the can echoing through the car. Then, without breaking his focus, his gaze flicks to you, his voice low and commanding.

“Seatbelt.”

You huff, rolling your eyes as you slide it on. “Yes, daddy.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, Jaemin’s jaw tightens, the muscle flexing under his skin. His eyes darken for a split second, a dangerous glint flashing, something that makes your pulse stutter for just a moment. His fingers curl around the steering wheel, gripping it a little tighter than necessary as he tries to compose himself.

He clears his throat, shifting slightly in his seat, nostrils flaring. “Don’t push your luck, Y/N.”

You sink into your seat with a sigh. The silence in the car hangs as he drives, thick with awkwardness and annoyance. Your throat still feels dry from the argument, and before you can even think about it, you reach for the can. The cold metal soothes your fingertips. But the second your lips brush against the rim, you can feel Jaemin’s eyes on you—hot, intense, and focused.

You can feel him watch your every move, and as you pull the drink away from your lips, his eyes narrow in on the red stain your lipstick left on the silver rim. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, jaw tightening with it, his gaze flickering between your lips and the can in your hand. Without warning, he snatches it from your fingers, one hand still on the wheel, eyes focused and full.

Then, Jaemin presses his own lips against the spot where yours just were, right over the mark you left. Sipping the drink slowly — savouring it.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, voice a little breathless, startled.

Jaemin’s eyes widen, and for a split second, his grip tightens on the can before he abruptly pulls it away from his mouth, tossing it into the cup holder without a second glance. His brows furrow as he tries to make sense of his own actions, as if he’s suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must look. His mind is reeling—over a simple lipstick mark on the rim of a can. Something so innocent, yet it’s driving him crazy.

He clears his throat, trying to regain an ounce of composure, but his voice cracks slightly. "I was, uh..." He hesitates, biting back a sharp breath, his eyes flickering to the road before snapping back to you. "Just making sure it wasn’t spiked…?"

It sounds weak, even to his own ears, and he knows you’re not buying it. The way your lips part tells him everything. You narrow your eyes at him, a little too sharp for comfort.

“Spiked?” You glance at the cup holder, where the can now sits innocently. “How would you even know from the taste, Jaemin? Not to mention Jisung gave me this, that boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Jaemin knows that. Still, he curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair as the frustration builds in his chest. His entire excuse is a mess, just like the thoughts spinning in his head.

"Look, let’s call it precautionary, okay?" His voice is clipped and there’s a tightness to it. "Don’t make it a big deal."

You lean back in the seat, a small bitter laugh escaping you. “Me making things a big deal? Oh, the irony.”

He doesn’t respond or bite back or try for the final word and it makes the silence thicker. Jaemin’s grip on the wheel is so tight his knuckles are white, and honestly, you don’t know how long you can keep doing this.

“You're impossible, you know that?" The words slip out before you can stop them, and your chest tightens as soon as they do. "I didn't come here for you to babysit me or make me feel like I need your protection. I came here because I—" You stop yourself.

Jaemin's head snaps to you, "Because you what?"

For a second, you can’t speak. The words are right there, but they feel too big, too much to let out. You’re caught between the urge to spill it all or keeping it hidden, scared to change the dynamic. But you’ve been pretending for too long, playing by the rules, and now, you want to stop hiding.

“I came here because I wanted you to see me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Not as Jeno’s little sister. Not as some kid. I wanted you to see me… as me.”

Jaemin doesn’t react, not at first – well, he does, but it’s subtle. His hands go completely white around the wheel, his jaw clenched so tight you can almost hear it. Without saying a word, he pops the indicator on and pulls over, the tyres screeching slightly as he brings the car to a sudden stop.

You freeze, and a small wave of panic bubbles up inside your chest. Did you say the wrong thing? Did you make it weird? He’s your brother’s best friend, and now you’ve crossed that weird line that’s bound to make everything awkward. Jeno’s gonna kill you.

You swallow hard, waiting for him to snap, to tell you how messed up this whole thing is.

But he kisses you.

His hand on your cheek, without warning, pulling you into him, and consuming your lips with a force that steals the air from your lungs. It’s not gentle like you expected him to be. He’s typically always gentle with you — unless he’s mad, which right now, he is. This kiss is desperate. Hungry. And you like it because it’s the kind of kiss that makes your body forget how to breathe. The kind of kiss that tells you he doesn’t see you like a kid – like Jneo’s little sister.

“You drive me fucking insane, you know that?” Jaemin growls, nudging your noses together. His hands find your waist, to grip it. “You walk around in those jeans clinging to your ass, with your cheeks flushed, and that fucking lipstick the same shade as my car.”

You giggle softly against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You noticed?”

“Of course I fucking noticed,” he groans.

Jaemin’s lips trail down your jawline, each kiss slow, and teasing, and needy. The desperation in his movements is evident like he’s trying to savour every inch of your skin. The feeling is foreign to you—each soft press of his lips sends a rush of heat through your body. The simple touches make you gasp, drawing a low, satisfied groan from him as he feels the reaction in your body.

His breath catches, lips brushing softly along the sensitive curve of your neck as he pulls you closer. His hands tighten around your waist, and the pleading in his voice intensifies, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in it. He’s holding back, trying to keep his composure.

“Tell me this is a bad idea, Y/N,” he whispers, his lips grazing your skin with kisses. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

Your breath is shallow and you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. The way your hands find their way into his hair, fingers threading through it as you desperately tug on it, unsure of what else to do.

“Please, angel, you have to say no,” he murmurs into your neck, his voice low and desperate.

“Don’t want to,” you whimper, shaking your head again. “Want you, Jaem. Always wanted you. Only you.”

"Fuck..." he groans, his lips trailing away from your skin to look at you.

And what a pretty sight you are. Eyes glazed with lust, pupils blown wide, dilated with something raw and needy. So innocent, so forgiving, so eager – so fucking his. It’s enough to make him painfully hard, though he was already straining. Hearing you say you've always wanted him – and only him – had already sent a rush of heat straight to his cock.

Jaemin can’t help himself. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek again, his thumb teasing the softness of your bottom lip. You gasp, and his pupils darken, fixating on the way your mouth parts, the red colour staining his thumb. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of—a perfect fantasy.

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, gorgeous.”

He’s still hesitating, and you can feel it — you fucking hate it. Something takes over you, and without thinking, you take his thumb into your mouth, deep, sucking hard. Jaemin practically growls, his lips parting as a hiss escapes him from the sight.

A switch flips, and in one smooth, deliberate motion, he yanks his thumb from your mouth, kills the engine, and climbs into the backseat. His eyes are sharp as they focus on you, which tells you to follow suit. He doesn’t care that on paper this is a ‘bad idea’. His cock is telling him it’s the best one he’s ever had.

It’s clear the moment you climb into the backseat, the way his body shifts into something animalistic. You try to settle beside him, but Jaemin doesn’t let that happen. He grips the hem of your shirt, yanking you down and onto his lap. The heat from his body radiates through the thin fabric of your clothes, his chest pressing hard against yours as his hands slide possessively around your waist.

His hands roam down your back and you can feel the hard press of him against your ass. It makes your pulse spike and your sweet red lips fall open for him, making him smirk with pride. His lips trail down to your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he murmurs your name, low and rough.

It’s all-consuming. Hot and desperate. Panting and breathless. Bodies moving in sync. The car heats up from your bodies softly grinding against each other. His hands are everywhere.

“Angel,” he growls, his voice low with restraint, “if you keep grinding on me like that, I won’t be able to stop.”

You bite your lip, keeping your rhythm steady, your hips pressing into his. “Good.”

Jaemin catches a hand around your jaw pulling you away from his lips. “I’m serious, Y/N. Are you sure you want this?”

You nod, your gaze heavy with need.

He shakes his head, “I need words, gorgeous.”

“I want this.”

Such a simple phrase shatters his restraint, unravelling him completely. With a growl, he tosses you onto the back seat, lips trailing hotly down your body until he’s between your legs. His fingertips graze the waistband of your jeans, and he leans in, voice a low whisper.

“Can I?”

You nod, but he shakes his head, his eyes dark with hunger. “Say it.”

“Yes...” You breathe, the word barely escaping your lips, but it’s all he needs.

The jeans slide down your hips and ass, past your thighs, until they’re bunched around your ankles. Jaemin’s eyes flicker down, landing on your panties—darkened with dampness.

"So wet from just a little grinding?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So fucking cute."

A rush of heat floods your chest. You’ve never done this before. And suddenly, it’s all too much, too fast. His words, your own desperate need, the car, the argument... everything crashes together. Without thinking, you press your legs closed, embarrassed by your body's reaction.

Jaemin's brows furrow as he watches you closely. "You okay?"

Your cheeks burn with a blush, stuttering as you struggle to find your voice. "I-I-uh," you falter, hoping he’ll say it, ask you the question. But he doesn’t. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, waiting for you to say it.

"I’ve never done this before."

Jaemin’s eyes flicker with something dark before he hums lowly. “You still want this?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

“Words, Y/N.”

“God—yes.”

A satisfied smirk curves on his lips. “Good,” he murmurs. “Your body’s a fucking work of art I’ve been dying to see, and I never want you to feel embarrassed about showing it to me—and only me, yeah?”

This time, you don’t nod. You meet his gaze, voice steady as you tell him, “Yes. Only you.”

He smiles, hands resting on your knees as he gently eases them apart, his gaze fixed on you, completely mesmerized. If someone had told him this was how he’d be celebrating his win tonight, he’d have laughed in disbelief.

But now, his knuckles brush over the front of your underwear, a feather-light touch that sends a spark through you. Your hips react on their own, bucking slightly as his fingertips tease your sensitive nerves through the thin damp fabric.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

He drags his fingers to your waistband, sneaking underneath to run a soft finger up your slit, drawing a gasp from your lips. He takes that as permission to slip the pair down your legs, meeting the same fate as your jeans somewhere in his car.

Jaemin keeps his eyes dead set on you as his fingers work to find your clit. The moment he does, he starts working slow, taunting patterns against it, each movement deliberate and unhurried. The sensation is leg-numbing, sending waves of pleasure through you—so much better than when you do it yourself.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, “I wanna know how I’m making you feel. Tell me.”

Your mind is spinning, words slipping through your grasp, and all you can manage is a choked, incoherent moan. It’s not enough for him. Dissatisfied, he sinks his middle finger into your pussy at your silence. You jolt at the intrusion, the feeling intense and foreign, but his eyes stay locked on you, waiting.

“Tell me,” he groans, relishing in the feeling of how tight you grip around his finger.

“F-feels good,” you manage to stammer.

“Yeah?” he taunts, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly picks up the pace. “Want more?”

“Yes–” you nod eagerly. He wastes no time, slipping his ring finger inside to join the first, matching the rhythm, savouring the warmth encapsulating around him, and you unravel beneath him.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow and quick, completely undone from the tortuous pace of his fingers. Jaemin’s expression softens as he takes you in, a quiet, satisfied coo slipping from his lips.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, “So sweet… so vulnerable just for me.”

A low chuckle escapes him as he feels your walls threatening to tense, wanting to flutter around his fingers, and it sends another wave of pride through him. He shifts his eyes down, and without hesitation, takes your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, devastating circles.

If he’s going to make you cum for the first time, it’ll be on his fingers and his mouth—he’ll make sure of it.

“S-so good, Jaem—” you gasp, voice trembling as his mouth and fingers work in perfect sync, pushing you closer to the edge.

He hums against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through your body. “Yeah?” he murmurs, lips still pressed to your skin. “Gonna let go for me, huh? Let me feel it.”

His words, his touch—it’s all too much, and you can feel every nerve on fire as he coaxes you over the edge until you’re cumming from the steady rhythm of his fingers and the relentless, teasing laps of his tongue. You're a shuddering mess beneath him from the orgasm he’s given you.

He fucking loves it, looking in complete awe.

As you start to come down, muffled whines still slip from your lips, riding out the aftershocks of your release.

“What is it?” he prods, his voice smooth but persistent, but all you can manage is a frustrated sigh, annoyed with his stupid teasing tone. “Angel..I don’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.”

"All I want is—" You gasp when he lightly brushes your sensitive clit again,"—your cock."

A smug smirk tugs at his lips. His hand slides to rest possessively on your hip as he moves to hover above you, his gaze locking with yours.

“Are you sure?”

You nod, your lashes fluttering with need, and he takes that as permission to rid himself of his pants, his hand wrapping firmly around the base of his cock. He positions himself carefully, just at the edge of your pussy.

It’s not how you’d pictured your first time—definitely not the romantic, cute scenario you’d always fantasized about. But one thing was certain: Jaemin was here, and that’s all that really mattered. Though, you hadn’t expected him to be this… big.

He picks up on the hesitation in your eyes, sensing the tension coiling tight in your chest.

With deliberate slowness, he slides his length teasingly between your drenched folds, making your breath catch as your nerves tense.

“I’ll take it slow,” he pulls down to murmur against your lips.

You nod, your lip caught between your teeth, biting down hard enough to taste the metallic tang as he presses his tip against your cunt. His other hand grips your hip, his fingers digging in as he applies pressure, holding you in place. He stays perched above you, eyes fixed on your face.

"Keep looking at me," he says, watching the way your face squirms. "Please."

His begging has you fighting to keep your eyes from fluttering shut, staying locked on him as you watch the way his pink lips part, the way they twitch, holding back a moan when he inches forward just enough to feel his tip slip past the threshold.

He pushes forward in a slow, savouring motion, and when he finally sinks into you completely, you stretch around him. Your brows furrow, caught between the sting of pain and the rush of pleasure. His teeth catch his lower lip, holding it there as a low, skin-tingling moan rumbles deep in his chest, his body staying still, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Please move,” you beg, barely able to get the words out, desperation lacing your voice.

He struggles to keep his breathing steady as he watches your face, studying it for any sign of discomfort. Once he’s sure you’re fine, he begins to draw his hips back slowly, his movements deliberate and deep, wrecking you as he rolls his hips forward, filling you again.

Your eyes want to flutter shut, the bliss almost too much to keep conscious but you want to please him. Jaemin pulls you closer, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, and you moan into it, the sound pulling a breathless, stomach-knotting whine from him.

He increases his pace, and you cry out, your head falling back as your hips begin to meet his. One of Jaemin’s hands tightens around the side of your waist, grounding you as he drives deeper, faster, harder — greedy.

You move feverishly, hips bucking wildly as you try to take him deeper, craving the way his cock stretches you, hitting every nerve with overwhelming pleasure.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he gasps. "Keep looking at me. I wanna see how pretty you look when I’m making you feel good."

You can only respond with a breathless gasp that catches in your throat as he buries himself deeper, rolling against you whilst your nails dig into the fabric on his shoulders.

His hand slips from your hip for a moment, reaching for your fingers to guide them down where your bodies are connected. His fingers curl around yours, bringing your hand to your throbbing clit. You take the hint, fingers moving instinctively to find the sensitive bundle, desperate to ease the tightness building in your abdomen.

"Not gonna last long, angel," he breathes, his voice ragged. "But I need you to feel good."

"Fuck," you whimper. Your hips begin to writhe, chasing the pleasure as every part of your body burns with need.

“So fucking warm and wet and tight,” he groans, forehead slick with sweat.

Your bodies feel like they’re burning, the car steaming up with heat, the windows fogging so thickly that you leave a handprint on the glass as you steady yourself against Jaemin’s building deliberate thrusts.

He’s fucking into you with an erotic urgency, as if he’s trying to spill out every fantasy he’s ever had about you since Jeno introduced you. It’s like he’s remembering, all at once, that he’s broken all the rules—off-limits, bro code—and he doesn’t care anymore. Doesn’t regret it one bit. Because the feel of you on his cock is totally worth it.

Your stomach starts to tremble as warmth floods your lower half, your muscles contracting and fluttering around him. The feeling overwhelms you, and it only encourages him to slow his rhythm, to drag out your orgasm as long as possible.

Jaemin finally caves, moving his face to nuzzle against you. Your hands find his hair, tugging him up so you can kiss along his neck, your lipstick staining his flesh, marking him with that signature red colour.

You keep your hips rolling with his, even after the earth-shattering orgasm he’s just given you. Every cry, whimper, and moan spills from the back of your throat at the force of him, your voice chanting his name in a string of desperate mumbles. Your body convulses and shakes as you clamp around his length, and he grunts at the feeling, whispering praises to coax you through it.

He snaps his hips upward, grinding his body against you to savour the feeling. His muscles begin to shudder, jolting as he gasps for air, his own orgasm hitting him hard.

Hearing and feeling him lost in so much bliss only stretches the aftershocks of your release, both of you a mess of limbs and shameless sounds. Then, you feel him still completely, his release erupting in warm spurts, filling you and making you feel full of him. He’s everywhere—his scent, his kisses, his cum.

You’re left utterly spent, like a limp puddle, but Jaemin stays closely intertwined with you. You both inhale ragged breaths, neither of you daring to break apart. You’re reduced to fluttering glances weak panting and slick skin.

Jaemin’s eyes shift toward the side window, his fingers gently combing through your hair before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

And when he finally tries to move, there's a sudden clink, and the faint sound of liquid splashing. You both glance down at the Diet Pepsi can now toppled over and spilling its contents all over the car seat. A muffled chuckle escapes Jaemin's lips as he shakes his head.

“That stupid fucking drink,” he mutters with a grin.

“You should be grateful,” you hum, “Without it, we probably would never have fucked.”

Jaemin shakes his head and laughs, but the humour quickly fades as his expression turns serious. He leans in close again, his lips brushing yours.

“Not true,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted you ever since I met you. I would’ve made a move eventually.”

“Oh yeah?” You tilt your head, teasing him. “What’s been stopping you?”

“Jeno,” Jaemin says quietly, and it’s like it hits you both at once.

Your stomach twists in knots, the mention of your brother, Jaemin’s best friend, suddenly making everything feel... wrong.

“What are we gonna tell Jeno?”

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