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justagalwhowrites · 20 days ago

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The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 5: Fracture

You and Joel try to find a balance in your relationship in Los Angeles. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 4 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Very mild violence. Masturbation. Description of porn. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 14.3k (IDFK what my problem is)

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter

“Hey, Big Miller!” Tanya yelled toward her living room, wine glass clutched precariously in her grasp.

“Shhh!” You clamped your hand over Tanya’s mouth as she practically cackled. “Will you cool it?”

She shoved you away playfully.

“We need a camera man,” she said. “And I don’t think he’s busy.”

“Can’t we ask one of your security guards?” You asked, brows raised. “Because I don’t think they’re busy, either.”

“Yes but my security guards aren’t eye candy,” she replied, almost smug. “And they’re in the guard shack. So the obvious choice is… Oh, hello Big Miller.”

Tanya winked at you and you turned to find a surly Joel standing in her massive kitchen, his arms crossed and a fed up look on his face.

“Can I help you.”

“Yes, actually,” she practically flounced over to him. “We are making a TikTok…”

“No,” Joel said.

“Oh, come on,” she waved him off. “You’re no fun!”

“Ain’t paid to be fun,” Joel said. “Now if you two aren’t running off somewhere crazy, think I’ll get back to…”

“We just need a camera man,” Tanya said, putting a hand in the middle of his back and guiding him further into her kitchen. “All you have to do is press record, hold the phone and press stop.”

Joel looked to you like he was asking for an out and, given the new, strangely kind balance to your relationship, you wished you could give him one.

But… you did need a camera man.

“Ellie wanted us to make a video,” you said and Joel sighed and held out his hand for Tanya’s phone, just like you knew he would as soon as you mentioned your niece.

Tanya squealed and clapped for a moment before walking him through what she wanted him to do.

“Alright,” he sighed as Tanya took her place next to you. “Let’s get this over with.”

Joel was a surprisingly good sport about the whole thing, stopping and starting the recording again and again as you and Tanya swapped places and did ridiculous looking dances and you couldn’t help but laugh when you were supposed to be standing still as your friend did her part.

“Thank you, Big Miller,” Tanya said, taking the phone back when the two of you couldn’t think of any other stupid dances to do. “We appreciate your contribution to our art.”

“Something tells me that isn’t going to win either of y’all one of those fancy trophies,” he said before looking to you. “Should leave soon. You’ve got early shit tomorrow.”

“So bossy,” Tanya winked at him. Joel rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, he’s like that,” you smiled at him a little. “But we have to let him control what he can otherwise he gets grumpy.”

“Well I guess we do have to let the men be men occasionally,” she smiled at him again before looking to you. “Do I get to see you again this trip or no?”

“Probably not,” you said, scrunching your nose at that. “I’ve got more chemistry reads tomorrow morning, Kimmel in the afternoon, meetings in the evening, premiere the next day, flying home the day after that.”

“Ugh, home in Texas,” she made a face. “LA is way better.”

“I’m sorry, which of us has been on tour for the better part of a year?” You teased. “Not like you’re here for me to hang out with anyway.”

“Hey, we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you,” she elbowed you lightly and you laughed before you both sighed. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you smiled a little. “You can always come visit in Texas, you know.”

“Might take you up on that,” she smiled back.

Tanya loaded you down with two dozen cookies before you left and you couldn’t help but smile a little as Joel drove the two of you back to your house.

“Thank you,” you said, looking over at him in the glow of the street lights. “For the TikTok thing, I mean.”

“Not the end of the world,” Joel shrugged. “Don’t understand it for shit but…”

You smiled a little and opened the cookie tin, holding it out to Joel, who glanced at it as he drove.

“C’mon,” you shook the tin at him, making the cookies inside rattle. “You know you want one.”

“Can’t believe you just go over to some pop star’s house to bake cookies,” he muttered, reaching over and grabbing one, taking a bite and chewing for a moment. “And they’re fuckin’ good, too, that’s even worse…”

You just smirked, closing the tin with a satisfying snap, looking out the window as Joel drove you home.

It had been a strange few days since the lunch with Henry. You’d been busy - which you had expected, cramming weeks worth of meetings and outings into just a few days - and Joel had been a surprisingly comfortable companion for the whole of it.

He sat there, watching stoically from the corner as you read lines with the actors vying to be the romantic lead in Savage Starlight. He didn’t complain about the swarms of paparazzi and fans when you went to do interviews. He even kept whatever complaints he had to himself when you went for a fitting for your dress for the premiere and your stylist, Frank, dragged him in to get feedback from a man on the fit of your bodice.

“What was your name again, I’m sorry,” Frank asked as he stood there with his hands on your sides.

He sighed.

“Joel.”

“Joel,” Frank said. “Right. Well, Joel, since I’m pretty sure you’re straight given -“ he gestured toward Joel as a whole “- that, what do you think? Should we have it sit here…”

“Frank,” you said, half pleading, half knowing it was a lost cause. “Please leave him out of this…”

“Honey, if you won’t listen to me, listen to him,” he said, adjusting the bodice and turning his attention back to Joel. “Do you want to fuck her more with it here?”

He adjusted it again, making it so your breasts were higher, more ample. You sighed.

“Or here?” He said, looking at Joel. “Be honest.”

Joel’s eyes darted to you, wide and almost afraid.

“I… uh…”

“He doesn’t want to fuck me at all, Frank,” you said, rolling your eyes, your hands on your hips.

He rolled his back.

“Please, everyone wants to fuck you.”

“You don’t.”

“Yeah, that’s because I want to fuck him,” he jerked his head toward Joel.

“Oh, well, I’ll be sure to tell Bill that,” you teased, barely holding back a smirk. “Tell him you’re out here…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“…checking out bodyguards…”

“Please don’t.”

“…causing problems…”

“Do you really think that paranoid old man could cope if he knew I was hanging out with that walking wet dream?” Frank asked, brows raised. “Please. For both our sakes, save me the fight and keep it to yourself and you,” he rounded on Joel. “Tell her the truth, that you want to fuck her more when the girls are higher.”

“Can you promise me I won’t have a nip slip on the red carpet if you shove my boobs up to the sky?” You said before Joel had a chance to stumble his way through another response. “Because Quinn might kill me if I do.”

“Do you really think I’d let that happen?” He asked, brows raised. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll put some pasties on the girls, that way if your tits find some way to defy the laws of physics - which, if anyone’s could, it’s yours - you’re not really flashing the whole world.”

“Very considerate,” you said wryly, ignoring the roll of his eyes. “Then sure, put my tits under my chin if that will bring you joy.”

“You’re my favorite client for a reason,” he said, going about pinning the dress into place and you bit back a smile as Joel stood there, his hands in his pockets as he stared determinedly off to the side his eyes darting back your way every half minute or so.

Joel had even been a pleasant presence at home. You’d FaceTimed Ellie the night before while you sat at your kitchen island with a glass of wine, just nodding along and listening to her talk about her day, trying not to dwell too much on the little mannerisms she had that reminded you of Anna. Joel came in - you weren’t sure why, his hand running absently over the granite counter before rapping his knuckles on it and Ellie spotted him then, perking up even more when she did.

“Hey, Big Miller!” She called in a sing-songy voice.

Joel came up behind you, tall and broad at your back, leaning down to get in the frame of the camera of your iPad.

“Hey Trouble,” he said, teasing Ellie with her own code name. “Been keeping your nose clean for your grandmother? Behaving for Seth?”

“No,” she smirked. “But remember that one debate I had coming up?”

“I do.”

“Well, I did it,” she said proudly, sitting up a little straighter. “And I won.”

“You did?” He asked, pride in his voice. Ellie nodded eagerly. “Knew you could, that smart mouth of yours.”

“I kicked his ass,” she said happily.

“Was it that one kid?” Joel asked. “The asshole?”

“Yup,” Ellie beamed. “And I made him look like a fucking idiot.”

“Ellie!” You scolded.

“Sorry, Sissy,” she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Joel. “Freaking idiot.”

Joel snorted.

“Good for you, kiddo,” he said. “Knew you could do it.”

Once you finished up the call with Ellie, you went and found Joel. He’d taken to spending time by the pool since the night he’d found you there. Sometimes he had a book, sometimes he just watched the water, his hands folded between his knees looking like he was lost in thought. He was there then, too, watching the water this time with a bottle of beer at his feet.

“Hey,” you said, knowing better than to approach him silently.

He looked back over his shoulder to you.

“Hey,” he said before looking back at the water.

You came and sat next to him, watching the light ripple in silence for a moment.

“Think Ellie misses you,” you said, glancing to him as you did. He just grunted. “It sounds like she talks with you…”

“We got time when I take her to school,” Joel said, almost defensively.

“I know,” you said quickly, gently. “I just… I appreciate it. You being nice to her, I mean.”

“Oh,” he said.

“She needs that,” you continued. “Her dad was never in her life, it was always just her mom, Elise and me and now… She needs as many people as she can to care about her. She’s been through a lot. I’m glad she has someone else she can talk to like that.”

“She’s a good kid,” Joel said, staring at the water. “Don’t mind.”

You nodded silently.

“Puns are awful though,” he said after a moment, smiling ever so slightly.

You laughed.

“God, they really are,” you said. “She has a book of them.”

He looked at you then.

“Who the hell’s idea was that?” He asked.

You laughed again.

“She picked it up at school a few years ago, one of those book fair things. I think she memorized it.”

“Jesus,” Joel laughed and then sighed. “Guess we’ll never be free of ‘em.”

“No,” you smiled a little. “Guess we won’t.”

It had become a strange balance. Not quite friends, not quite… whatever you’d been before. Some odd middle ground where you cared what he thought and found a disorienting comfort in his presence without the kindness of any affection.

Your phone lit up, a link from Tanya. You followed it and watched the video on TikTok, posted for not even five minutes and already thousands of likes. You smiled at it, the look on your own face as you tried not to laugh at your friend’s ridiculous dance moves and your own clumsy, erratic movements when it was your turn funnier than you’d realized.

“That the video?” Joel asked as you sat at a red light.

“Yeah,” you said, holding the phone out to him just as it looped. He watched for a moment, an almost serious expression on his face before it seemed like he was biting back a smile, shaking his head a little. You laughed. “You liked it!”

“I don’t really get it,” he said, giving you a look before the light turned green and he started driving again. “But… yeah, alright, it was kinda funny. Didn’t think you celebrities really did that kind of shit, though.”

“Why not?” You asked, going to repost the video on your own feed and texting Quinn to tell her that you had so she wasn’t caught off guard by it.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “Just… seems like it’s beneath you.”

You frowned a little.

“You do realize we’re just people, right?” You said. “We just happen to do jobs that make us famous.”

“I know,” Joel said. “Still. Feels weird.”

You laughed a little at that. Yeah, fame was weird.

“Ellie seen the video yet?” He asked, glancing your way quickly.

“She’d better be in bed,” you said. “It’s almost 2 a.m. in Texas. But I’ll send it to her in the morning.”

“She do one, too?” Joel asked.

“She did,” you said, smiling a little and going to Ellie’s TikTok - which you’d insisted be locked down to hell and back so paparazzi couldn’t take advantage of it - and pulling up the video. Joel parked in your driveway and you handed him your phone, pressing play for him and watched as he smiled a little as Ellie and her friend Dina did different crazy dances in a classroom at school to the same song you had.

“Looks like she’s makin’ friends,” Joel said, giving you back your phone. He didn’t wait for a response, getting out of the car. You sat and waited patiently for him to come to your side of the car - a safety protocol that felt excessive but you went with it - before getting out yourself. “That’s good. Can be hard for kids that age now, especially at a new school.”

“Yeah,” you said, frowning slightly at him and biting your tongue. How would he know about kids that age? You weren’t sure of his exact age but you were pretty sure he was a few years older than you and it’s not like he had kids.

“Driver’ll be here early,” he said once you were both safely inside and you set the cookies down in the kitchen. “Any itinerary changes I should know about?”

“Nope,” you said. “Just going to be a busy day for me with a lot of sitting around for you. Might want to bring your book.”

“Be sure to keep myself entertained,” he said wryly, opening the tin and getting out another cookie.

You smiled.

“Goodnight, Big Miller.”

“Night, Siren.”

You brought a bag with you the next day.

You’d done enough shit like this in your time - days where you had to run from place to place at almost breakneck speed, places where you knew you’d be photographed to hell and back and others where you had some semblance of privacy and you knew you’d be desperate for some comfort - that you knew how to plan for it.

Joel sat up front with the driver, leaving you in the back seat alone and you sent the TikTok to Ellie, telling her you hoped she had a good day at school and that you were excited to see her in a few days. You took a few minutes to review the lines you were working with that day, making sure you were comfortable with the ones you’d be reading with the kids. You always remembered your first line readings with grown ups once you were actually old enough to fully understand what was going on, how some made you feel at ease and some made your stomach churn and skin crawl. You always wanted to be the comfortable person for these kids. You hadn’t worked with many children in adulthood but it always felt strange when you did, some twinge in you that made it seem like you were watching your younger self but not able to stop what was coming.

“Doomed by the narrative,” you muttered to yourself, skimming the lines of the girl who would play your childhood self.

“Hm?” Joel said back over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” you said, locking the iPad as the car pulled up to the studio gate. “Just running lines.”

There were four kids you were reading with but one that you’d been told was the favorite and she was reading last.

All the kids were talented, you’d give them that. Of course, they had to be to make it this far. They were all 10 to 12 years old, all excited to be there, all somewhat accustomed to this life already. But you posed for pictures with them anyway - the photos going on their agents’ phones so they couldn’t post them before they were allowed to - and performed your lines in all the different ways the casting director asked.

Eventually, the last girl came in, a sense of nervous, almost frantic energy pouring off of her, something that seemed so far away but so familiar from your childhood.

“Can I see her resume?” You asked the casting director quietly as the production assistant went over things with the girl.

“Sure,” she said, rifling through a small pile before handing it over. You reviewed it quickly and found what you expected - some commercial work, a three episode arc on a sitcom, no film. She was just 12 years old and new to this. You slid the resume back and went over to the girl who, you had to admit, looked a lot like you.

She was staring at you, her eyes a little wide and you tried not to laugh. Instead, you smiled and held out your hand, introducing yourself.

“Yeah,” she said, a little awed. “I know.”

“Thought you might,” you smiled a little wider. “What’s your name?”

“Catherine,” she said. “Catherine Ford.”

“It’s nice to meet you Catherine,” you said. “Want to run some lines with me, see how we do?”

She nodded quickly and you showed her where to stand in front of the camera that was capturing your line reads for the director to watch later.

“Let’s go from from the top,” the casting director said, giving you a nod. “Get us started.”

You just nodded and found the character quickly, falling into her headspace, making your eyes meet the girl who was yourself.

“Who are you?” You asked, a panicky edge to your voice.

“Don’t you know?” She asked in response, cocking her head slightly to match your own. “I’m you.”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, that’s not possible, you’re not real, you…”

“I am,” she said, all calm and wise. “I’m you and I know that you… I… crud…”

Her face scrunched and she looked down to the paper in her hands.

“Keep going,” the casting director said to you. “Lead her in.”

You nodded, taking a moment to reset and looking at Catherine.

“That’s not possible,” you said again. “You’re not real, you…”

“Don’t you know?” She said and then her face fell. “Crap, I’m sorry!”

“It’s OK,” you smiled gently. “Want to go again?”

“Is that OK?” She asked. You just nodded and she sighed. “OK, cool. I’ll get it this time!”

“From ‘that’s not possible,’ please,” the casting director said and you obeyed, but Catherine missed her cue to cut in that time, freezing in the moment and then looking like she was about to cry.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I promise, I know my lines, I was up so late practicing, I won’t mess up like this if you actually cast me, I…”

The casting director got up but you held out a hand, keeping her where she was.

“Catherine?” You cut her off before she had a full blown panic attack. “It’s OK. Did you warm up before you came in today?”

“No,” she sniffled a little. “No, I should have, and…”

“Hey, I’m not criticizing you,” you smiled gently. “Even if you had, it’s probably been long enough since you left your house that it wouldn’t make a difference now anyway. Why don’t we take a minute, warm up, then try again. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“OK,” you said. “Any warm ups you really like?”

“Um,” she thought for a second. “To sit in solemn silence? Do you know that one?”

You smiled a little wider.

“Good pick,” you said. “One of my favorites. Want to start or do you want me to?”

“Can you?” She asked. “I never have to…”

“Of course,” you said, taking a deep breath. “Ready? To sit in solemn silence on a dull, dark dock…”

You did a few warm ups with her, helping her loosen up and get relaxed before you got set to go again, tension coming back into her small shoulders as she got set for the next try.

“Hey,” you said gently. Her eyes met yours. “It’s OK. Just you and me, two actors doing our thing, OK?”

She smiled a little at that.

“OK.”

She seemed to take that to heart, hitting every word that time, the two of you falling into that rare space where you felt truly connected, that you were inhabiting these characters, building tension, pulling these feelings from each other and laying them bare. It was a space that was hard to find, you couldn’t do it with every actor, and this 12-year-old girl had managed it.

The room was silent for a moment when the scene wrapped but then the casting director clapped, you and Catherine both turning to look at her, Catherine beaming.

“Beautiful,” she said. “That was great, really really great.”

The two of you did a few other scenes, Catherine finding her groove more and more each time and you couldn’t help but marvel at her talent. She had raw skill that many of your contemporaries would kill for, skill that she’d only hone over time. She was going to be an incredible actor if this industry didn’t destroy her first.

“Who brought you here today?” You asked Catherine when the read was over, the casting director already talking conspiratorially with her assistant.

“My mom,” she said. “She’s in the waiting room.”

“Can I meet her?” You asked.

“Yeah!” She said eagerly. “She’d love that!”

You flagged Joel down from his spot in the corner and followed her there, her mom jumping up when she saw her come through the door.

“Hey kiddo!” She said excitedly, hugging her daughter. “How’d it go?”

She noticed you then, her eyes going a little wide at the sight of you.

“Hi,” you smiled. “I’m…”

“I know,” she cut you off, her eyes still wide but going somehow wider. “Oh my God, that was probably so rude, I’m sorry!”

You laughed.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Honestly, if it didn’t make me feel like such a self-centered jerk, my life would probably be a lot easier if I just assumed everyone knew who I was. You’re Catherine’s mom?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Margie.”

“Hi Margie,” you said. “It’s good to meet you. Catherine is really incredible, you know.”

“I know,” Margie said, tugging her daughter against her side and giving her a squeeze. “Trust me, we wouldn’t even be trying this if she wasn’t. She just begged and begged for years and eventually it was so obvious she was so good that we should at least give it a shot.”

Catherine beamed at that and you smiled, the familiar pinch of tears at the back of your throat that you swallowed as you did. Her mother seemed nothing like your own.

“I took a look at her resume, looks like you’re pretty new?” You asked and Margie nodded. “Well, getting started is hard, there’s a lot to navigate. Can I see your phone?”

She all but dove into her pocket and unlocked it before handing it over.

You entered your number, saving it with your first name and last initial.

“Don’t share that around,” you said, giving Margie her phone back. “But if you need anything - anything at all - give me a call or a text. Alright?”

“We gotta go,” Joel said quietly behind you. “Cutting it close.”

You just nodded before turning to Catherine.

“It was really great working with you today,” you smiled.

“You too,” she said, smiling hugely.

“Looking forward to doing it again soon,” you said, giving her a hug and a wave before going back to the audition room. Your bag was in the corner and you grabbed it before going to the casting director.

“I want Catherine,” you said, already going through your bag for your makeup kit.

“She was very strong,” she replied. “But she had the shaky start and…”

“No,” you said, cutting her off. “She’s it. No one else came close. Not trying to tell you how to do your job but it’s Catherine. She’s just green but she’s young, she’ll get used to it quick. Trust me.”

She considered you for a moment.

“Alright,” she sighed eventually. “She was the top pick going into today but if we need to recast because she can’t hack it…”

“We won’t,” you said. “I’ll make sure she’s got what she needs.”

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll confirm with the director but we’ll get her.”

You got changed into something far less comfortable than the leggings and sweatshirt you’d been wearing but looked way better for TV - Frank putting together a pair of velvet wide-legged trousers and matching jacket with a mesh turtleneck - and did your makeup and hair as quickly as you could before rushing to the car, Joel on high alert any time you were outside.

“You were good with her,” he said once you were safely underway.

“Hm?”

“The girl,” Joel said, his voice gruff. “You were good with her. She was nervous, I could tell.”

“Oh,” you said, watching the back of his head in front of you, as if that would tell you anything about what he was thinking. “Yeah. I just remember what it was like to audition like that. It’s lot of pressure.”

“Can’t imagine doin’ that to a kid,” he said harshly. “Should get to just be a kid.”

“There’s a reason I don’t want Ellie growing up here,” you said, looking out the window at the city going by. “Don’t want her getting any ideas.”

The car pulled up to the theater, a hoard of people outside the doors waiting for you.

“Ready?” Joel asked over his shoulder, his dark eyes meeting yours, something about the depth of his gaze making it impossible to look away.

“Ready,” you said.

He got out first and he tried to rush you through the crowd but you saw a little girl who had to be about seven or eight - wearing a t-shirt with the duck you’d voiced years ago, when Ellie was about her age - watching you with hopeful eyes.

“Hi there,” you smiled, getting down on her level. “What’s your name?”

“Parker,” she said, smiling hugely, one of her front teeth missing.

“Hi Parker,” you smiled back. “It’s so nice to meet you! I really like your shirt.”

“It’s my favorite movie!” She said excitedly.

“You have excellent taste,” you said with a wink. You nodded to the piece of paper clutched to her chest. “What do you have there?”

Her face lit up for a moment and she thrust the paper at you.

“It’s my drawing!” She said. “I did it myself!”

You took it and looked down at it, a childish, colored pencil version of the duck you’d played there on the page.

“Parker, this is so good!” You said, smiling at her. “You’re such a good artist! Is that what you’re in school for right now? Art? What college do you go to?”

“I don’t go to college!” She laughed.

“You don’t!” You gasped in mock surprise. “What! How old are you? 20? 21?”

“I’m seven!” She beamed.

“Oh, my goodness,” you said, looking back at the paper. “You were such a good artist and so grown up I figured you were much older.”

You gave her the paper back

“Can you sign it for me?” She asked, holding it out with a pen.

“Well, the artist is usually the one to sign their work,” you said. “But… I’ll sign it if you do, too.”

She beamed at that and you let her use your back to sign her name on her drawing before passing it off to you. You signed it, too, and gave it back before taking a selfie with her mom’s phone.

“Alright,” Joel said when you stood up again, his face drawn tight, his hand on the middle of your back. “Let’s get you inside, fuckin’ sitting ducks out here.”

“Oh, we’re fine,” you waved him off, going back to the crowd and taking selfies and signing autographs as you worked your way into the theater.

“You like trying to give me a damn heart attack?” He asked once you were inside.

“Everyone needs a hobby,” you said wryly as Quinn rushed over to you with a production assistant at her back. “Should try getting one yourself, you know.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, rolling his eyes but following you to the greenroom all the same.

Quinn reviewed the final topics for the interview and you said hi to Jimmy before getting ready to go on stage and put on a show.

Doing interviews like this one still felt odd to you. Not because they were unusual - you’d gotten used to the talk show circuit by this point in your career - but because of their very nature. The illusion of some intimate conversation between friends on display for the few hundred strangers in the same room and then broadcast for all the world to see.

You’d crafted a version of yourself for times like this, one that was built to appeal to an audience and seem genuine and real, some artificial sheen to wrap yourself up in that you slipped into like any other character. This one, though, grated on you. The strange dishonesty of it, the character you were playing yourself instead of the creation of someone else.

The interview went along like any other for a while, the two of you bantering back and forth and you sharing funny stories from set that sounded off the cuff but were actually carefully rehearsed to make sure you and your costars’ stories aligned.

“Speaking of Chris,” Jimmy said as your time was running down and the audience was quieting after another bout of laughter. “I do have to talk about one thing with him.”

“Just one?” You teased and he laughed.

“Well, plenty,” he said. “But did you know that you and Chris are going viral?”

“No,” you laughed. “But I’m sure my publicist does and she’s thrilled. What are we going viral for?”

“There was a moment in an interview this week,” Jimmy said. “I think we have it…”

The screen behind you changed and the moment from the junket days earlier played, you and Chris sitting side by side as he started on his rant, one that you’d thought would never see the light of day.

“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…”

You sat there, cheeks getting hot, pressing your fingers into your thigh, nervous energy making your stomach turn as you watched Chris lay into the reporter. You’d hoped that this clip had been squashed by his publicist, that the reporter honing in on one of your lowest points wouldn’t be put out for all the world to consume. Apparently not.

“That’s all it takes to go viral now, eh?” You joked as the video ended. Jimmy chuckled lightly but no one in the audience laughed.

“You’ve got to admit, that was a pretty great moment,” he said. “But I was wondering what you thought of it.”

“I think Chris has a way with words that I can’t quite match,” you smiled a small but tight smile. “And I think if I say anything different, he might go off on me next.”

That did get some laughs and you laughed with the audience, hoping that you looked playful and fun, not tense and ready to crawl out of your skin.

“Well we don’t want that,” Jimmy laughed. “Thanks so much for coming on and everyone, go see As We Know It, out Friday!”

You waved your goodbyes and looked stage right, oddly comforted by Joel’s commanding presence there, his face firm as he watched you. You walked right for him as you left the stage, one of his arms going around you as you came alongside him, something grounding in his touch as he ushered you away.

“You’re OK,” he said quietly, guiding you toward the door you came in.

You frowned and looked at him, Joel glancing your way as you did.

“You’re stressed,” he said. “I can tell. I’ve got you.”

You did a more abbreviated run of the crush of fans this time, stopping for a few selfies and signing a few pictures, but not lingering, instead moving as quickly as you could for the car without looking like you were rushing.

Joel didn’t get in the front seat this time, instead climbing in back with you. You frowned as he did but he just ordered the driver to start toward the restaurant where you were meeting with producers.

“You alright?” Joel asked after the car was out of sight from the crowd outside the theater, his eyes oddly soft and open. “That was shitty, them springin’ that on you.”

“It happens,” you said, looking back at him as intently as he seemed to be looking at you. “I should be used to it. I am usually, but…”

“Shouldn’t need to be,” he said. “They should act better.”

You watched him for a moment, trying to puzzle him out but couldn’t see past his stern face with the strangely open eyes. You didn’t understand him. You weren’t sure you ever would.

“I’ll be fine,” you said when you’d been quiet a little too long. “But thank you.”

He frowned.

“For what.”

“Caring,” you shrugged. “Not many people do. But I’m afraid I need you to look out that window for a minute.”

His frown deepened.

“I need to change,” you said. “Shouldn’t be photographed in the same thing this many times so look out that way, please.”

His jaw quirked but he obeyed, shaking his head a little as he did.

“Shouldn’t be photographed at all,” he muttered, arms crossed tightly over his chest as you got a pair of black leather pants out of your bag and set them on the seat between you and Joel.

“Probably right,” you said, shrugging out of the jacket and adjusting yourself so you could slide your pants down and off, leaving you just in the mesh top. “But comes with the territory.”

You dropped the clothes you’d shed beside you, the velvet of the fabric brushing Joel’s arm and he glanced toward you - just a reaction, you told yourself - before he jerked his head back to look out the window again.

“Oh don’t act like half the planet hasn’t seen me half naked,” you rolled your eyes as you got into the leather pants, a task that was easier said than done in the back seat of an SUV. “I promise, I won’t bite.”

“Right,” he muttered.

You got the pants into place and pulled out another jacket, draping it over your shoulders and putting the other clothes away.

“You’re safe, Big Miller,” your teased, tossing the bag in the trunk.

“Try to make a habit of not seeing my clients naked,” Joel muttered, settling back into his seat.

“Sounds boring,” you said.

He gave you a look and you laughed.

“Don’t worry,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I don’t think you’re at risk of anyone thinking you’re interested in fucking me. You’re safe.”

He just grunted and you smiled a little, looking out the window. There was something comfortable when he was like this. You weren’t sure what to do with a Joel who didn’t seem to loathe you, at least a little bit. Even though you wanted him to like you. You weren’t entirely sure why, but you did.

The paparazzi were waiting for you outside the restaurant, too, but you’d been expecting that. Quinn had told them you’d be here and you made sure your pants were actually zipped before getting out and putting on the show you always did, smiling and waving, taking selfies with fans who’d heard you were going to be there, too.

You kept the show on through dinner, talking with the producers of a period piece you were interested in doing, Joel sitting next to you the entire time, his jaw quirking when Leo joined the table, too.

But Henry didn’t make a surprise appearance and, after a while, you found yourself relaxing into things, a few too many glasses of wine deep and giggling when you left the restaurant.

“You got what you need for the premiere?” Quinn asked as you made your way to the door.

“Frank has a vision,” you said dramatically and Quinn snorted. “Don’t worry, my tits are basically hanging out, the press will love it.”

“Well I’ll see you there,” she said, kissing you on each cheek. “Need Frank to have a vision for me one of these days.”

“Call him,” you said eagerly. “I’m sure he’d work his magic! Oh, we could go somewhere matching, that would be fun!”

“OK, you’re drunk,” Quinn laughed and looked to Joel. “She’s drunk. Make sure she gets out of here safely and doesn’t talk to any of the paps outside?”

“I’m not drunk!” You protested and Quinn laughed, taking the lapels of your jacket in your hands.

“You’re drunk,” she said. “And that’s OK, you’ve been doing a lot lately, you deserve to have a little fun. Just don’t make more work for me in the morning when you do. See you tomorrow at the premiere.”

“The premiere!” You said and she laughed, giving you and Joel a final wave. You turned to Joel. “We know what I’m wearing for the premiere, what are you wearing for the premiere?”

“No one cares what I wear for shit,” Joel said, nudging you toward the door. “C’mon, driver’s pulling up.”

“Why wouldn’t they care?” You pouted, looking over your shoulder toward him. “You’re a good looking man, you know.”

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, shaking his head.

“What?” You said. “You are! I’m not trying to hit on you but that’s just an objective fact. Even Frank said so.”

The flashes caught you off guard. You’d forgotten, for a moment, that it seemed like half the planet cared that you’d had dinner here. You smiled and waved and Joel kept you walking straight toward the car, keeping you from stopping and talking to the people screaming your name.

“That felt rude,” you said once you were in the car and things were quiet again.

“Too bad,” Joel said, in back beside you again. “Don’t need to be talkin�� to those assholes, anyway.”

“There were some fans in there, too, I think,” you said, settling down into your seat. “But back to what I was saying.”

“No,” Joel said simply. “Seatbelt.”

“What?” You frowned. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean, put your seatbelt on,” he said.

Your frown deepened and you looked around yourself for a moment before Joel made an irritated sound and reached over you, grabbing the seatbelt and pulling it into place.

“OK,” you said, adjusting it and sitting up a little straighter. “Seatbelt’s on. Why can’t we keep talking about it? I’m just saying, you should take the compliment…”

“Not interested,” Joel said.

“Oh will you calm down?” You rolled your eyes. “I promise I’m not trying to get you into bed, you’re safe from my scary Siren claws, I just mean if you dress well tomorrow at the premiere people would notice because you’re a good looking person, that’s all.”

“It don’t matter because I’m not gonna be seen with you,” Joel said, his voice stern. “I’ll be on the other side of where press and shit are but the carpet will be you, some assistant and that Chris guy. Don’t matter what I’m wearing or how good I do or don’t look, alright? Jesus…”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “You really let them talk you into that? I’m shocked.”

“The premiere’s got it’s own security and it’s actually damn good,” Joel said. “Not good enough for me to just stay home but you’ll be alright. Don’t need me in any more goddamn photos with you than there already are.”

You watched him for a moment.

“You still don’t like me, do you?” You asked.

He frowned, looking at you.

“Why’s it matter.”

“I didn’t say it did,” you shrugged. “You just don’t like me.”

“Don’t need to like you,” he said. “Just need to keep you alive. Besides, the whole damn planet likes you, ain’t that enough?”

You scoffed.

“No they don’t.”

“Yeah?” Joel asked. “What d’you call that shit, the hundreds of people waiting for fucking hours just to catch a glimpse of you if it’s not like.”

“They don’t like me,” you said. “They don’t know me. They’re obsessed with a commodity. I’m not a person to them, I’m just a weird combination of every part I’ve ever played, every passing idea they’ve decided to assign to me, some idealized creation that doesn’t exist but they’re convinced is real. You know me, at least a little, and you don’t like me.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m right,” you said, your stomach twisting at that. You shouldn’t care what Joel thought of you but you did. There were so few people on this planet who knew you - actually knew you - and he was one of them. And he didn’t see something in you worth liking.

The car pulled up to your driveway and Joel got out first, going around and opening your door.

“C’mon,” he said, offering you his hand. “Like you or not, you got an early day.”

You took his hand - large and warm and secure - and slipped down to the ground, tottering on your heels enough that it made you laugh, Joel steadying you as you went.

“I trust you to actually get yourself to bed?” Joel asked as he led you inside.

You scoffed.

“Where else am I gonna go?”

“Sure you’d find some way to get into trouble,” he replied wryly.

“I’ll go to bed,” you rolled your eyes. “See you in the morning Big Miller.”

***

Joel watched you head down the hall, weaving a little as you walked before disappearing into your room, trying not to think about the way the fucking leather pants hugged your ass or the way your hips moved when you walked.

“Jesus,” he muttered to himself, stalking off to the kitchen to get a water.

You just don’t like me.

Lord, how he wished that were true.

He liked you alright. Far more than he should. Enough that the entire planet’s fucking obsession with you was starting to make sense.

He tried not to think about that.

Liking you was not a good idea. It was a completely horrible idea, actually. He wanted to go back to how he felt before he’d come here. It seemed like so long ago now, before he knew about your mom and Elise and Anna, before what you’d told him - and clearly hadn’t - about that fucking producer, before he saw you laughing with a friend or making kids smile just because you could. He wanted to go back to before you were a person - a real person, one with fears and wants and hurts - instead of some rich asshole he could pretend was a different species from himself.

It wasn’t a good idea to care about you. He had to protect you, he couldn’t be distracted by things like your fucking feelings. Caring about you was dangerous.

He opened the fridge and went to grab a bottle of water but, instead, took one of the beers that was sitting there. Not that drinking right now was a good idea, either, but fuck it.

Joel brought the beer to the pool and sat on the edge of it, the glow of your bedroom light almost tempting. The curtain covered the window but he could make out the silhouette of you through the glass and gauzy fabric. You must not have a shirt on, the outline of your breasts clear in the hazy, warm light. He watched for a moment as the outline of you pulled on some baggy piece of fabric, covering yourself, and he forced himself to look back at the water.

He wasn’t going to think about that. He wasn’t.

He wasn’t going to admit that he thought about it the day before, too.

He wasn’t going to admit that he thought he might break his fucking jaw from clenching it as he watched you with the actors during the audition shit the day before.

You with these men all made for the screen, designed to be your fucking equal in a way he never could be even if he tried - which he wouldn’t because it didn’t matter. They read lines with you and he watched as you looked at them with adoration, touched them with some kind of longing, pressed your body to theirs, arching around them to fit yourself to them like you belonged there. Because you did belong there. If not with these men in particular then with a man like them. Not a man like him.

Not that it mattered. It didn’t fucking matter.

No, he wasn’t going to think about those things. He wasn’t going to think about the way your tits looked in that fucking dress that Frank had asked his opinion on. He wasn’t going to think about glancing over at you in the car today when he knew he fucking shouldn’t have and seeing you there, half naked in your fucking see through shirt, your thighs looking so warm and welcoming and fucking soft.

He wasn’t.

He’d thought about it the night before. He wasn’t proud of that but he had, the image of you getting fitted for the damn dress at the forefront of his mind. It was like his head was a scratched record, skipping over that point in time again and again and again.

He tried to think about anything else as he stood in the shower that night but fucking couldn’t, his cock half hard as he tried to shove the memory of you away.

When he went to bed, he caved to his baser instincts. He decided to jerk off. Just to get it out of his system because he couldn’t be still stuck on this the next morning and he didn’t think he could sleep with his balls swollen and aching as they were.

He tried looking at porn but he couldn’t figure out what the fuck he wanted to watch. He was absently scrolling through a site, nothing standing out until something caught his eye. Your name, on a video.

He stared at it for a second, your name followed by EVERY SEX SCENE - COMPILATION.

His mouth went dry. His cock was painfully hard.

Could he watch that? It’s not like it was really wrong - it wasn’t something that had been shared without your permission and it wasn’t actual porn. It was just something he could see if he went on Netflix right now and sought it out.

But you hadn’t made it so fucking assholes like him could jerk off to it. And it wasn’t like you were a stranger now, he knew you. Could he do that?

His dick throbbed at the thought.

Could he stop himself?

Joel clicked on the video, his stomach twisting as he pressed play. There was an ad and he read the comments while it played.

She’s so fucking hot.

Bet she moans like a whore in real life.

Fuck I want to choke her out.

She was hotter before, she hit the wall when she hit 30.

The sound of you moaning in his headphones grabbed his attention, dulling the violent anger that swelling in him when he read what other people said about you. Joel took a shaky breath and made the video full screen. He was already this far down the rabbit hole, he may as well fully commit.

The first chunk of excerpts were from the movie you won the Oscar for and he could only stomach a few seconds of it. You looked disturbingly young to him, just a teenager with a softer version of your face getting on her knees, starting to take off her shirt making him jump ahead. He jumped again when it just felt too strange, watching you start to get undressed or turn around when you were obviously shirtless - seeing your skin this way feeling too keenly wrong.

It was the last scene in the video that he found himself watching in earnest. It was something more recent, you looked almost the same as you did now, none of the childish softness to your face that had been there in the first scenes. It was a romantic scene, one that was carefully shot so the viewer saw nothing illicit. The curve of your bare waist, the edge of the swell of your breast, a hint of your ass.

But Joel liked it this way, this moment not tinged with the wrongness the others were. You moaned as your on screen lover pushed inside you - or mimicked it, Joel corrected himself - your fingers spreading wide over the man’s back.

Joel took his cock in his hand, swallowing hard, his heart beating fast. He worked himself slowly as he watched as the man on screen explored your body, close up shots that revealed nothing interspersed with your face as you gasped in pleasure.

He let himself get lost in that, in the sounds you made, stroking himself harder, faster. He wanted to make you make those sounds. He wanted to press his lips to the delicate skin of your throat and kiss and lick and suck as he sank inside of you. He wanted his hands to run over the softness of you, to press his firm chest to your plush one and feel your heart beat through your skin. He wanted to feel you swallow him whole, his body slotting into yours as he made you come.

You moaned and gasped on the video and he let himself pretend that it was for him and he came, imagining it was you and not his own fucking hand he was buried inside as rope after rope of his come spilled over his skin.

His cheeks got hot as he closed the video and cleaned himself up, a pile of tissues on his nightstand the only sign of his indiscretion.

He tried to clear his mind as he settled in to sleep, reminding himself of what he already knew: You were not meant for something like him. It didn’t matter what he wanted, you were for someone better than him. You needed someone beautiful like you, someone with money and power and purpose. You deserved someone like you. And he needed to get past that, at least enough that he could do his fucking job and keep you safe. That was all he was good for now. He knew that.

He tried to remind himself of that again as he sat by the edge of the pool, his mind lingering on you, on your striking beauty and disquieting kindness and keen talent.

He took a sip of beer.

It didn’t matter, he told himself. None of it mattered.

That was the truth of it. Even if you were his equal - even if he was rich and famous or you were just some waitress or school teacher or something besides the most famous woman on earth - it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like he could do anything about it, anyway.

About a year after he lost Sarah, he’d tried dating. It hadn’t been his idea but Tommy had set him up with a friend of a friend and it hadn’t gone well. Not because she wasn’t a good woman - she was. She was kind, smart, beautiful.

But it didn’t seem to matter what Joel did, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to really care for her. He liked her well enough. Enjoyed her company and enjoyed her body but any real affection seemed far away. He’d broken it off before things would need to get too serious, just the thought of getting any further involved making his chest get tight and his head swim. He wasn’t meant for things like that anymore.

He’d left humanity behind when his daughter had. Anything like love and care was closed to him now, he knew that.

So why did he keep thinking about you?

He downed the rest of the beer and sighed before getting up, looking toward your window. He watched the outline of you pull back the blankets and climb into your bed before stretching and turning out the lamp.

He just shook his head and went inside, putting the bottle in the recycling bin before heading to his own room, trying not to think of you lying on the other side of the wall.

It didn’t make a difference. You were still in his dreams that night.

You were standing opposite him like you had the men you’d read lines with but, instead of the comfortable clothes you’d worn to the audition, you were in the mesh top you’d had on that day. Just that and your panties, like you’d been in the back seat of the car.

“Ready?” You asked, your eyes meeting his and he actually let himself look into them now, and how soft and deep they were. You didn’t wait for his response. “I’ll read you in.”

Your body changed, the physicality of you shifting as you became someone else inside your skin.

“What are you so afraid of?” You asked, almost forcefully.

Joel knew his line. He’d heard it enough the day before.

“You!” He said. “I’m afraid of you, of this power you have… I can’t protect you, I can’t…”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you cut him off, stepping closer. “I need you to trust me.”

You were close enough that you were touching him.

He knew this part, too, but he didn’t stick to his lines.

“But I need to protect you,” he said. “It’s all I know how to do, I… I can’t…”

You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, your eyes meeting his, your body arching against his own and he could feel every line of you through his clothes. You moved to kiss him and he went to meet you but you stopped just short, your breath warm on his skin.

“Why didn’t you protect me, Joel?” You whispered, your lips brushed his as you spoke.

He frowned, pulling back ever so slightly.

This wasn’t in the script.

“You should have saved me,” you said, stepping back from him.

Suddenly, he was somewhere new with you. The middle of the road, a burning car to one side of you. You stepped back from him again, cradling your arm to your chest, blood spreading quickly over your skin from a wound at your stomach.

“No,” he reached for you, but you stepped back. Your ankle was at an odd angle, making you limp. “No, this isn’t…”

“You should have been there,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “You should have saved me. Why didn’t you save me, Joel?”

“I…” he began but you collapsed then and he jumped to catch you, pulling your body tight to his chest, panting for breath. “No, no, no, you’re OK, it’s alright, you’re gonna be OK, you hear me?”

“No,” you reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. “I won’t. Because you didn’t save me.”

He woke with a start, ready to jump between you and any unseen threat. His chest was tight so he could barely breathe, his whole body covered in a sheen of sweat.

It took him a moment to remember where he was, in a bed that was his but wasn’t, in a foreign land that wasn’t really so different from his own. It was still dark outside and he clutched at his chest, trying to calm himself down.

You were safe. You were safe and he was close enough to you that he could protect you if something happened.

He repeated it in his head like a mantra and it helped but only so much. There was this little, nagging thought that, while he thought you were safe and well, he couldn’t be sure. Not until he saw you.

It was early, still dark outside, but he checked his phone. It wasn’t the middle of the night, at least.

He got up on the off chance that you might be awake, glancing toward your bedroom door and seeing it closed. But it looked like there was a light on in the main part of the house so he followed it, finding you leaning against the counter in the kitchen in a bathrobe, a towel around your head. You were scrolling through something on your tablet, drinking from a mug of coffee. There were only a few lights on, the room still mostly dark, something quiet and almost illicit about his presence there. But the tension in his body eased all the same. You were whole, he could relax.

“Did I wake you?” You frowned, glancing up at him from the glow of the tablet screen.

“No,” he said, almost defensive. “Why.”

“Because,” you shrugged, looking back at the tablet. “You usually wear a shirt when I don’t catch you by surprise.”

He glanced down at himself and almost groaned. He hadn’t even thought about putting something on.

“Just woke up,” he said, going to get a cup of coffee for himself. “Didn’t think you’d be awake yet.”

“Well, I needed to get a workout and a shower in before the glam team shows up,” you said, taking a drink from a green smoothie that he hadn’t noticed before. “Don’t worry, I didn’t go anywhere. I just swam some laps and Quinn’s assistant brought me this.”

You held up the cup and waggled it in his direction. He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, because heaven forbid I’m concerned about you gettin’ grabbed by some stalker,” he muttered, getting himself a coffee and leaning against the counter across from you and tried to resist the urge to look down the neck of your robe, something that would be so easy to do with you bent over the counter the way you were.

Then you stood up straight, setting the tablet down, making his life a little easier.

“I’m sorry for yesterday,” you said, your coffee cup tight in your hand.

Joel frowned.

“What d’you mean.”

“I mean,” you took a deep breath. “That I behaved unprofessionally. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk, I shouldn't have said the things I did. You’re right, it’s not your job to like me and it doesn’t matter if you do or not. I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable but, if I did, I apologize. You’re good at your job and I appreciate the work you do. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh,” Joel said, taken aback. “Um… It’s… It’s fine.”

“Good,” you said, downing the last of your coffee. “Glam squad will be here in a little while. You may want to hide while you can. I might promise professionalism but I can’t speak for my stylist.”

Joel snorted at that.

“Good advice.”

You smiled tightly, taking the smoothie back toward your bedroom.

“Hey, Siren,” he said, almost wincing as he said it but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to use your real name, the words seeming almost too intimate. But you stopped all the same, facing him with your eyebrows raised. “I meant that. It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t go beating yourself up about it.”

“Thanks, Big Miller,” you smiled a little, softer this time. “I appreciate that.”

Joel ate something and got dressed before people started showing up for you. He met each of them at the door, making sure he knew who was in the house and what they were there to do. Makeup artists and hairstylists and, of course, Frank and his assistant. There was even a team of people escorting a fucking necklace and earrings in some oversized red box that made Joel grind his teeth. It was a little surprising, just how many people it took to get you ready to go to a fucking event.

He couldn’t imagine what they could all be fucking doing, especially not for hours upon hours. It’s not like there was anything on you to improve, he wasn’t sure why the hell it’d take an entire day to get you ready for anything.

But when you eventually emerged from your room, he understood.

Frank was carrying the back of your dress while you held up the front and you were nodding along to something the woman beside you was saying and Joel couldn’t help but stare at you.

It was like you were a sculpture or a painting, more a work of art than any mortal thing. The gown looked like it had been made for you, finding and highlighting every soft curve of your body. There was a diamond necklace with a massive center stone resting in the hollow of your throat, making him think about how delicate your skin would be there. Your makeup perfectly framed your eyes and the arch of your cheekbones and the plush of your lips. Your hair and nails and eyelashes were all longer and more elegant than they’d been just hours before and you were so beautiful it was hard to look at you. It was painful, wrong in some way. You were something beyond him entirely, ethereal and other. He wasn’t meant to look upon the likes of you.

“You ready?” You asked, turning your attention to him.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rougher than he’d meant it to be. “You really gonna watch an entire movie in that thing?”

“Not the most uncomfortable gown I’ve worn, trust me,” you cocked a smile at him. “But we should go, there’s always traffic for premieres.”

Joel just grunted noncommittally. He needed to get his shit together. He couldn’t afford to let you distract him just because you were beautiful. Not after his dream this morning, not when he knew what was at risk.

He stared determinedly out the window all the way to the theater.

“You’ll have to let me know what you think of it,” you said as the two of you sat in traffic, getting closer and closer to the red carpet.

“Of what,” Joel said, looking your way for the first time in a while, forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the swell of your breasts, the curve of your throat.

“Of the film,” you said. “You might be the only person here who will be honest to me about it. I’m curious to know your thoughts.”

“Not a movie critic,” he muttered.

“I know,” you said. “That’s why I’m curious.”

The two of you finally made it to the red carpet and the door opened, your costar there waiting for you with his hand out.

“My God, love,” he said, looking you up and down. “Do you ever look anything but perfect?”

“I do what I can,” you smiled, giving him your hand and letting him help you out of the limo.

Joel got out, too, going around the back of the crowd instead of following you up the carpet, the distance from you making his heart beat faster and his muscles clench.

“Fuckin’ risky,” he muttered to himself, following your path from the other side of the cluster of fans who were pressed against velvet ropes. There was a large screen set up, a camera tracking you and Reese’s progress down the carpet and Joel kept his head on a swivel, watching you and the crowd and the space at the edges for any threats, trying not to grind his teeth at the way your costar’s hands rested at your waist, hip, back.

He’d very nearly relaxed when you and Reese had worked your way down most of the fans. You’d almost made it to the press, the more contained part of the carpet where you’d be more secure. Maybe, he thought, he was just being paranoid. Maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about here.

You started talking to a young man at the end of he cluster of fans, one not much older than the college idiots that seemed to dominate Austin half the fucking year, but there was something about him that set Joel on edge.

You took a selfie with him and signed something for him but he kept clutching at your arm, not letting you move. Reese’s usually carefree expression shifted, eyebrows drawing together, lips pursing. He put his hand at your waist and gave the man a wave, saying something and smiling a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before pulling you away. You smiled warmly at the man, probably saying something nicer than he deserved, and let Reese lead you on but the man wasn’t letting you go. Your eyes went up, immediately finding Joel’s, a spark of fear in your gaze he could see even from this far away.

Both of the man’s hands closed around your wrist and he yanked you back toward him, pulling you out of Reese’s hold and making you stumble and Joel was moving before he fully realized what he was doing.

It was instinctual, shoving his way through the press of fans with no care for who he knocked down on the way. Even with the tightly packed crowd, he was to you in seconds, the man’s hands locked tight around your wrist, bending it at an unnatural angle, Reese trying to pry the man’s hands away from you. Your eyes were wide, the hand that wasn’t in the mans’ grip on his elbow almost soothingly, as though your gentleness was all he needed.

“No, you don’t understand!” The man was pleading. “I love you, I need you, I’ll do everything for you, everything, no one else will ever love you the way I do, I…”

Before he could finish talking, Joel punched him across the face. The blow was hard and sharp and sent the man reeling, almost taking you with him before Reese caught you around your stomach and pulled you back from the velvet ropes.

Event security appeared then, swooping in on the man as he sat on the ground, looking dazed.

“About fuckin’ time,” Joel snapped to them before hurdling the rope and going to you. Reese had angled you away from the camera that had been following the pair of you down the carpet, cradling your wrist in his hands, saying something to you that Joel couldn’t quite hear.

“You OK?” Joel asked, a little breathless. Your head snapped up, your wide eyes meeting his, something almost frantic in your gaze. Your chest was heaving, your breaths coming in fearful little pants and he closed the distance between the two of you quickly, taking the uncanny beauty of your face in his hand. You closed your eyes, pressing your cheek into his palm and his fingers held you tighter than they should but he couldn’t seem to pull back. Your skin was soft, smooth, warm, perfect. You took a deep breath. “You’re safe, it’s OK.”

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice trembling and wet, none of your typical bravado to be found.

“I know,” he said. “But they got him. Not gonna let him hurt you, you’re safe.”

You nodded into him.

“Do we need to leave?” Reese looked to Joel, his brows drawn tight together.

“No,” you said quickly before Joel had a chance to respond. He frowned, going to argue with you but you cut him off. “No, we’re almost to the press, we need to just keep going, it’s fine, I’m fine. We keep going.”

Joel searched your eyes, your face still in his hand and, as afraid as you looked, you were just as determined, too.

“Fine,” Joel clenched his jaw.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“I’ve got you,” Reese said gently to you before turning back to Joel. “I’ll take care of her.”

Joel nodded once, firmly, before finally - painfully - taking his hand back from you. You closed your eyes and took a deep, centering breath. You raised your chin defiantly and steeled your spine and opened your eyes again. You smiled a little as you did and, for the first time, Joel recognized a shift in you. It was like the auditions, when you embodied someone else. You weren’t yourself anymore, you were just another character now, someone with your face and voice but detached from you.

“Let’s go,” you said, leading Reese down the carpet toward the press.

Joel watched until you were at the backdrop, smiling and posing with your costar, making sure event security was close by before slipping back into the crowd.

The man who’d grabbed you had been wrestled away from the crowd, tucked off to the side and now in custody of police. Joel went and found them, introducing himself to the cops and telling them about the stalking threat he’d been hired to protect against.

The man was still yelling, fully sobbing as he said again and again how much he loved you, how all he wanted was to take care of you. Joel wished the police would turn their backs for a moment, just a moment, just long enough for him to get another hit in on him. He wanted to hurt him, scare him, make him realize that you were protected and that he couldn’t get to you.

Joel had never dealt with a stalker before, but he wouldn’t be surprised if this was the guy. The level of obsession, the passion, the willingness to hurt you to get what he wanted made it seem likely.

That was good, he thought. If this was the guy, you were out of immediate danger. You’d be safe - or as safe as someone as famous as you could be. There was a certain sense of peace in him at that.

But there was this keen longing in him, too.

If this was your stalker, his contract would be up. He would go back to Texas with you, pack up the things at your house and say goodbye to this strange semblance of a life he’d found himself in with you and your niece. He’d be without the both of you, alone in the tomb of his house, waiting for the next time he could jump in front of a bullet for someone else so he could feel alive.

He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest at that thought, the sickening feeling in his stomach.

This had been a mistake, this whole fucking job had been a mistake. The second he knew who you were he should have told Tommy no, he couldn’t. You were too close to Sarah, the job too long lasting. It was too big a risk for him, too much of a chance for him to get attached to someone he had no business getting attached to.

“Joel.”

He looked around to find Quinn at his back, her face drawn.

“She alright?” He asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“She made it through the press but she might have a broken wrist,” she said, her voice low. “She’s ducking out the back once the film starts, we need to get her to a doctor. She has fight training starting soon and an injury is going to be who knows how much in production delays…”

Joel bristled.

“And if she’s got a broken fuckin’ bone it needs to be treated.”

“Obviously,” Quinn rolled her eyes. “I thought that went without saying.”

“She’s not just a fucking profit center,” he narrowed his eyes at your manager. “She’s a person.”

Quinn looked at him for a moment, considering him.

“I know that, Joel,” she said gently. “I just wasn’t aware you did.”

Quinn, at least, had the foresight to get your usual SUV to pick you up instead of the limo you’d arrived in. Security let Joel in the back door and you were waiting for him there, looking so out of place among the boxes and storage in your gown and jewels. You were stiff and oddly small, shoulders hunched as you leaned back against a cinderblock wall, cradling your injured wrist to your chest. Someone tried to talk to him but Joel ignored them, instead going straight for you.

“Changed your mind?” He asked, hands in his pockets so he didn’t touch you again.

You looked at him through your lashes, something sharply vulnerable in your eyes for a moment before you straightened and smirked a little.

“Figured going to an afterparty with a wrist the size of a grapefruit was a bad look,” you said, showing your arm to him. Your wrist was swollen and discolored and he resisted the urge to take it gently in his hands. “Don’t want the press to be about this, we want it to be about the movie.”

“Alright, c’mon then,” he said. “Get you checked out.”

He put his arm around you, tucking you against his side as you held your wrist against yourself. He stayed close to you on the drive, your body warm and relaxed against him.

“Do you think that was him?” You asked quietly, voice small.

“I don’t know,” Joel said. His hand was on your arm. Your skin was soft. “I talked to the police, told them about the stalker, they’re gonna investigate…”

“He scared me,” you said softly. “I know there were threats but… It didn’t seem real. I didn’t think anything would happen.”

“I know,” Joel said, his thumb tracing a slow, steady path over your skin. “I’ve got you. Keep you safe.”

He said it as much for himself as he did for you. He tried not to think about why he needed to.

The driver took the two of you to a small doctor’s office that, at this hour, was quiet. A nurse met you both at the back and you were quickly ushered into an exam room and given an x-ray, you in your gown on the cold paper of the exam table a sight that made Joel’s heart clench.

“You did indeed break it,” the doctor said, pointing out a thin line on the x-ray. “It’s a minor fracture, shouldn’t need a full cast and just a splint for three to five weeks.”

“How soon before I can train?” You frowned. “Can I train in a splint?”

“That really what you should be worried about?” Joel asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

You looked over to him, your eyebrows knitting together.

“There’s a whole movie depending on me, Joel,” you said. “People have contracts, they have bills they need to pay. I can’t just take weeks off.”

“Can’t make a movie if you don’t heal,” he muttered.

“You need to take at least three weeks before you do anything extreme with that wrist,” the doctor said. “If you don’t, you’ll need a cast and you’ll be out of commission even longer.”

“Alright Doc,” you smiled. “You win, I’ll take it easy.”

“Good,” he said. “I’d hate to see you try to hold an Oscar in a cast.”

It was a relief to get you back home again, in a contained space that Joel had gotten to know in the last week. Frank and a hairstylist met you there, the three of you disappearing into your room for a while and Joel considered sitting in his own, not sure he could handle seeing you again but then, he wasn’t sure he could handle not seeing you, either. So he sat on the couch, existing in a state of limbo, not sure what to do next.

“Sounds like you saved the day,” Frank said when he eventually emerged, a garment bag over his arm.

“Dunno about that,” Joel said. “Still let her get her fuckin’ wrist broke.”

“Seems like it could have been a lot worse if you hadn’t stepped in,” he said. “Broken wrist will heal.”

Joel just grunted.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Thank you. She’s one of the good ones.”

He left before Joel got a chance to respond. The hairstylist left not long after, a bag of hair in her hands, and, when you didn’t come out right after, he almost thought you’d gone to bed. He was considering doing the same when you slowly, almost cautiously, came down the hall, peering into the living room as though your presence in your own home was somehow illicit.

“Oh,” you said, in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants and wrist splint. The makeup was gone, the long nails and lashes and hair, too. But you were still beautiful, maybe even more so now. It was the most human Joel had ever seen you. “Sorry, I thought you’d be in your room…”

“Don’t need to apologize,” he shrugged. “Your house. You OK?”

“Fine,” you shrugged. “A little sore but… I’ll be fine, it’s just a minor fracture.”

Joel nodded slowly and you stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“I’m going to make tea,” you said. “Eat something solid for the first time today now that I’m out of that dress. Call Ellie, check in. Want to join?”

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say yes, follow you to the kitchen and be next to you, have tea, talk to Ellie. He wanted to keep existing in the same sphere as you, be folded into your life the way he had become the last few months.

But he couldn’t. He knew that. You and Ellie and your lives weren’t for him.

“Should go to bed,” he said instead. “Been a long week.”

You smiled - a little sadly, he thought - but nodded and went to the kitchen and he listened to you just exist for a moment before he left you there alone.

It didn’t seem to make a difference. He dreamed of you again.

It was different this time. You were far away from him, in the t-shirt and sweats you’d changed into, larger than life but out of reach. All he could do was watch as someone hurt you and you looked for him to help you. He ran and ran but he couldn’t reach you, couldn’t do a goddamn thing except watch you hurt because he couldn’t do the one thing he’d been built to do.

He stared at the ceiling when he woke up, his heart pounding and body tense.

He had to stop this. Whatever road he was going down, whatever he was doing, he had to stop. He couldn’t live his life this way, where he was always afraid and waiting for things to go wrong. He’d learned that lesson once, the hard way. He couldn’t do it again. He just couldn’t.

“Ready to get back to the Lone Star State?” You asked, already in the kitchen when Joel got up.

“Guess so,” he said. You watched him, like you were waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

“Well,” you said when he was quiet for too long. “I know Ellie is looking forward to you coming back, she told me something about that video game you guys…”

“Look,” Joel cut you off. “Ellie’s a great kid…”

“Agreed.”

“But, if that guy was your stalker, I got no reason to be at your house all the time,” he said.

“Oh,” you said, your shoulders slumping a little. “Right. I hadn’t really… That makes sense. Yeah.”

Joel poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Should go get packed,” he said.

He didn’t wait for a response, just going back to his room to gather his things and avoid you and it was a relief when the car was there, ready to take the two of you to the airport.

“We do have to make one stop on the way,” you said, holding the red box that had shown up yesterday.

Joel frowned.

“Don’t you got people for that?”

“Well, the original plans got a little fucked with the whole ‘crazy man at the premiere’ thing,” you said. “But keep your shirt on, Big Miller, it’ll only take five minutes.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, rolling his eyes, wishing he was back in Texas already.

He sat in back next to you, anyway.

The stop at the jeweler was quick - you trading the large and ostentatious red box for a much smaller one - and it wasn’t long before the two of you were ushered onto the plane, the last people aboard as you tucked yourself into the window seat in the front row, a baseball cap tugged low over your face and a sweatshirt covering the brace on your arm.

Joel was tense the entire flight. He hated when people realized you were aboard and started demanding autographs and selfies, when you got up to use the bathroom, when the plane hit turbulence and he knew there wouldn't be a damn thing he could do to save either of you if the plane went down and that level of powerlessness disturbed him at his core.

He’d been stupid with you. Careless, reckless, dumb. He knew better now, he knew where giving a fuck led and it was nowhere good. He thought that wasn’t a risk with you, that your spoiled fucking attitude and obscene wealth and the ease of your life would make it so he could never care for you but he was wrong. He gave a shit. For the first time in five years, he cared.

And he needed to get far away from that before it killed you both.

He went wordlessly to his room at your house in Austin when you got there, Seth beating you both to the house to take over so Joel could have a few days off. He grabbed a few things he knew he’d want and resolved to ask Seth to pack the rest for him when the police confirmed that it had, indeed, been your stalker last night. For now, he just needed to get out of here and get away from you.

“Hey, Joel!” You followed after him as he stalked toward his truck, his duffle over his shoulder.

He gritted his teeth and turned to face you.

“What.”

You all but flinched back from him, blinking in surprise at his curt tone. He knew he was being short with you but it needed to happen. It had to.

“Oh,” you said, the smaller red box from the jeweler in your hands. “I just…” You thrust it toward him, looking at him with wide and oddly honest eyes. “I got you something. I ordered it before the thing yesterday, just to say thank you for everything in LA, but it can be kind of a going away gift now, too, since… well, anyway.”

He took it, the fact that you seemed out of sorts disorienting, and opened it. Inside was a watch. It was simple, rectangular with a silver case and black leather strap, but obviously luxurious.

“It’s engraved,” you smiled, fidgeting with your sweatshirt sleeves. “Which is probably dumb but I couldn’t resist, I’m a sucker for shit like engraving, don’t ask me why…”

“You think this is what I want?” He asked, holding up the box, voice cold.You just blinked at him for a moment. “That I want some fancy fucking jewelry? That I’m like your rich fucking friends you can just buy off or something?”

“What?” You looked at him, hurt. “No, no, I… I just… Yours is broken and I wanted to say thank you for…”

“For me doin’ my job,” he cut you off. “That’s what this was, a job. We’re not friends, you don’t need to thank me for shit. You paid me, I protected you, end of story. I don’t want your fancy fucking watch, I don’t want…”

“Then sell it!” You snapped, angry now. “Consider it a tip, run it over with your car because you hate me so fucking much, tell the tabloids about how the movie star bought you a present, I don’t care! I know you’re thrilled to be rid of me, anyway. Nice knowing you, Miller. Have a nice life.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, you stalked back into your house, leaving him there with nothing left but a hollow ache in his chest and the watch that he wished he could find a home for on his arm.

A/N: Look. If you're here because you've read my other stuff, are we at all surprised that we ended up here? Is anyone surprised that I'm back in my natural habitat - torturing Joel Miller - yet again?

I wish I knew why I was like this, I really do, but alas, here we are. Thanks for reading it and for putting up with my total lack of a posting schedule. I really appreciate you being here and caring about these characters enough to read the monster chapters I put out about them.

Love you!

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

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #tsats #the savage and the sanctuary

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hadassah4ever · 9 months ago

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lukas matsson x f!reader smut

warnings: decent age gap, reader has no survival instincts for plot convenience, no protection, and the fact that i haven’t written smut in such a long time, i feel like it’s not the best, but 👍👍

word count: 1,430

minors dni pls

The night was frankly, very boring.

Strolling around and seeing the art pieces that made you realize that you might’ve flushed $50,000 down the drain, but at least you got some good complimentary cocktails and horderves.

“You look bored out of your mind.” A man whispered in your ear from behind, almost making you look like a cat jumping away from a cucumber.

“I don’t like this bullshit… ‘cum on a canvas and call it a painting’ stuff either, it’s emotionle—“

“Technically it’s eliciting emotions from you by making you hate it. But maybe that’s just the art school in me.” You shrugged, turning to see a tall, blonde haired blue eyed man.

“Arts school? On daddy’s dime, huh?” He teased. “I wish.” You softly chuckled, shaking your head.

“Hm. Not a rich girl?” He asked. “I would’ve thought you were. Normally poor people don’t throw $50,000 into the trash like that.” He joked. “I have passion! I’m a starving artist!” You replied, softly chuckling and playfully rolled your eyes, not too offended at his teasing. “How’d you get in here? No offence, but I thought that looking at usele— very… meaningful, modern art was a rich person thing?” He asked, seeming genuinely more curious than insulting or gatekeepy, like most of the people here.

“They invited a student with a referral from their professor. And I was referred by my professor.” You answered. “What an insult.” He joked, you tried to shake your head and jokingly roll your eyes to dodge all of the tiny comments that made you slowly realize more and more you should’ve gone to business school, like your cousin.

“You just hate my future profession, don’t you?” You teased back. “Well, it’s the job that makes parents slowly nod and say ‘ahhh…’, so.” He shrugged, a smug smile on his face like he knew you were gonna laugh. “Ugh, I hate how true that is. I just wanna get out of here as soon as possible. It’s not boring, just terrifying.”

“You could get out of here with me.” He quickly replied, realizing he sounded way too eager. “I don’t even know your name.” You replied, coyly smiling. “Is that the only thing stopping you?” He asked. You shrugged. “I’m Lukas Matsson.” He spoke. “Now, do you wanna leave?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully and chuckle at that. He was cornier than he let on.

“You intrigue me. Sure.” You don’t think he’d have the gall to murder you or something after being so chatty in the decency crowded gallery, so what did you really have to lose?

You knew something was up when he rubbed your knee in the car. And the way he kept glancing at your tits. And giving you “fuck me” eyes.

“You’re alright with coming to my apartment right? No pressure.” He spoke, not seeming to just be covering his bases, but actually not putting too much pressure on you. “Sure, what else do I have to lose?” You joked, he softly smirked and told the driver his address.

You should’ve been aware about the fact that he could’ve been rich, but he dressed so casually, and not just the “hello fellow peasants, I am like you” kind of casual the way most rich people dress, but he was in a really nice part of town.

——

“Down for some random wine that people give me?” He asked, going into his wine cabinet, using his fingers to browse through several wines that would probably be a month's worth of rent for you, at the very least. “Gonna wine and dine me before taking me to pound town?” You joked, and as you silently cursed yourself for saying “pound town”, he chuckled.

“No, I’m just gonna wine you.” He answered, catching you off guard but still enjoying the banter. “So pound town is a non negotiable?” You joked. “Nah, we can negotiate that.” You didn’t know if he really cared this much about your consent or if he was just not trying to catch a case, maybe both, but you’d take it anyways. So far, he cared more about your consent than any person you’ve been with beforehand. Maybe you’d need to sign an NDA.

“I mean, if it’s a good journey to pound town, then I agree, but if I’m just gonna be a vessel, no thanks.” You teased, he softly laughed, picking out a bottle of wine and standing up. “I’ll make sure it’s enjoyable then.”

“Then I’m definitely aboard.” You softly chuckled, glancing at the ground and then glancing back up, Mattsson standing right in front of you, immediately leaning forward and kissing you, placing the bottle of wine on the marble counter with a soft clink.

His hands squeezed your ass, his semi-hard cock grazing against you, his hand found his way to your clit, rubbing it in somewhat rough circles, before stopping and his hand diving into your underwear, his slim fingers opening up your folds and feeling around for your slick, satisfied he grumbled a quiet, “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

“Could we move to the sofa?” You softly asked, snapping him out of his own head. “Huh? Oh yeah.” He answered, both of you scrambled to his couch, as you laid down, he placed his head between your thighs, his hands held your hips before his fingers dipped underneath the fabric of your panties, pulling them off your legs.

“You don’t seem like the guy who’s ready to eat a girl out at a moment's notice.” You flirtatiously teased, he paused for a second before breaking the brief silence with, “Not just any girl.” A similarly teasing smile but a slight, genuine look in his eyes.

That really shut you up, as you leaned back down, his mouth softly sucking your clit, his tongue and lips working together, his fingers moved around as he tried to find your entrance, quickly finding it, they dove in. You tried to resist the urge to clamp your thighs around his head, his beard softly scratching you as he ate you out, throwing your head back and moaning, you shut your eyes hard.

He was too damn good at this.

Within a few minutes he had you softly moaning about how you were about to cum, his mouth worked harder and his fingers thrusted in and out of you quicker, having you unravel faster than you ever have, he still worked his mouth and fingers even when your thighs squeezed the sides of his face, having you shaking.

He quickly pulled his head away from your core, the imprint of his cock ready to burst out from his boxer briefs. He slid them off quickly and you were a bit wary, his size was definitely gonna teeter on uncomfortable, and it was probably gonna stretch you a bit, little veins running up it, the pink tip leaking already. He opened your knees up once again and lined himself up with your entrance, “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, ‘kay?” He spoke, after you nodded he slowly eased himself inside of you and to your surprise and delight, his size actually worked well fully inside of you.

“It’s good?” He asked, trying to suppress a groan. “Amazing.” You answered, he nodded and started to thrust inside of you, his cock curving upwards and hitting the deep, pleasurable bits inside you, he grunted and moved his fingers to your clit again, his hand resting on your pelvis as his thumb worked in circles, getting into the rhythm of it, he was eventually pounding into you, now using both of his hands to keep himself steady.

It was like a haze surrounded you, gripping onto his couch cushions and arching your back warned him of your impending orgasm, he noticed your inability to just sit still and take his cock, his hands pushed your hips down and continued to nail into you relentlessly, without any further notice, you constricted and finished around him, your breathing became shaky and every limb in your body felt like it was vibrating as he pulled out and came on your stomach, an impressive amount of warm cum hitting just underneath your belly button. His face looked like he just met god and his breathing became shaky as yours started to even out.

“Jesus.” He spoke under his breath. “Hardly anyone has been able to take me like that.” He muttered.

“Might have to pay for your tuition.” He added, in a tone you didn’t know whether or not it was a joke.

Maybe it wasn’t.

——

a/n: lukas definitely has feelings for the reader and i’d be willing to maybe add onto this if enough people want that.

#lukas matsson x reader #lukas mattsson x reader #succession x y/n #succession x you #succession x reader #alexander skarsgard x reader

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justlookfrightened · 3 months ago

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A trip back in time

Filling a prompt from @notenoughgatorade: The haus gang goes to a renfaire

King Richards Faire opens the weekend we get back to Samwell!!!!

Bitty had no idea what King Richard’s Faire was, much less why Holster was assaulting the group chat with four exclamation points.

Ransom, however, appeared to get it.

Road trip! Ransom responded.

Bitty thought about asking what this was, where it was or why Ransom and Holster wanted to road trip there. He thought about asking, but doing so in the group chat would be letting himself in for even more humiliation, proving he was different than the rest of the team in yet another way.

He was small, he was southern, he didn’t play hockey until high school, he was gay, and oh yeah, he was terrified of being checked, which just happened to be a big part of the game he played to allow himself to afford going to college. And now he didn’t know what King Richard’s Faire was?

Bitty muted the group chat and shoved his phone into his shorts pocket; dinner was on the table, and Mama got cross if he was texting during dinner anyway.

Maybe he’d feel better with some food in his belly. That would probably make his headache go away. And maybe no one else would respond, it would go from a Haus road trip to a Ransom and Holster road trip, and Bitty would never have to betray his ignorance.

After dinner, he told Mama he had to start packing, and headed to his room. It wasn’t exactly true; he’d left all his winter stuff at Samwell, in the room Johnsn had deeded to him — dibbed to him? Was that a word? — which meant that he would be with the team pretty much 24-7.

And not just with the team. With the core of the team, the team leaders, the heart of the team, Coach would call them. Jack, the captain; Ransom and Holster, the top D-pair; and Shitty, who — well, everyone loved Shitty and was exasperated by Shitty in equal measure, but Shitty did seem to keep everyone in line when it came it social justice kinds of things.

It was Shitty who first adopted Bitty last year, followed by Ransom and Holster. Bitty had been a little afraid of the D-men, to be honest, especially about them finding out he was gay. But they loved his pies, and they had turned out to be like big brothers he never knew he wanted.

Even Jack had come around to accept Bitty’s presence by the end of the season. If Jack wished Bitty spent less time in the Haus kitchen, Bitty was pretty sure it was only because he was hardass when it came to sugar, thinking less was always better.

Now, a week before he was set to head back north, he was starting to wonder whether living in the Haus was such a good idea. He hadn’t skated since the game where he got hurt (got bowled over by a behemoth, lost his helmet and crashed head first on the ice — a sequence he saw in his mind every time someone talked about him “getting hurt”). He had no idea what kind of a player he would be when he started practice, but he suspected that all the work Jack had done with him in all those early mornings had been undone.

How much patience would his teammates have?

Bitty pulled out his big duffle bag and started filling it with T-shirts and shorts from his clean laundry basket, then, once it looked like he had actually been packing, flopped on his bed and pulled out his phone.

Jack had chimed in next, with a reminder: We have practice that Monday

That was hopeful. Trust Jack to focus on hockey and why they were due in Samwell at the beginning of August.

Aw, c’mon, Cap! Shitty had contributed. It’ll be a team bonding experience.

Bitty knew then that he would have to find out about this King Richard’s Faire thing. If Shitty was calling Jack “Cap” it was all over.

Ugh.

Could be fun, Lardo had chipped in. Some people I know from the art department are working there on the weekends.

Lardo. Lardo — not at all an athletic bro — could be be Bitty’s salvation.

Bitty found her contact.

Help! I don’t know what King Richard’s Faire is! Why does everyone want to go?

By the end of the evening, Lardo had explained the concept of a Renaissance Faire to Bitty — food and drinks and jousts and plays and shopping and lots of people in costume and knights and ladies and fairies and even peasants — and it sounded like it might actually be fun.

It also didn’t sound like something that most of the sports bros Bitty had grown up with would do.

It sounds kind of — I know I’m not supposed to say this but kind of girly, Bitty said. And like, something maybe the theater kids would do? And maybe the stoners who played D and D?

At that, Bitty’s phone rang.

“Do you even know the Samwell Men’s Hockey team?” Lardo asked in lieu of saying hello. “Holster would be a musical theater guy if he could carry a tune, or dance, or act. Ransom is like crazy smart, and he needs stuff completely out of his zone to get him to relax. I’m gonna have to do my best to keep Shitty from dressing a serving wench — or maybe I won’t, the actual serving wenches will find it hilarious.”

“And Jack?” Bitty asked. “I mean, even he didn’t think it was a terrible idea. I don’t think. You’re going to tell me he liked the history of it all?”

“Not really,” Lardo said. “Although he does like pointing out all the anachronisms, including, y’know, food safety standards and age limits for buying alcohol.”

“You’ve been with him before?” Bitty asked. Because he didn’t remember being invited to such an outing last year. Lardo hadn’t even been in the country.

“This one is only in the fall, but there’s another one in the spring,” Lardo said. “Shitty and Jack and I went at the end of my first year. It was fun. You’ll like it. I promise.”

So Bitty added his approval to the group chat, hoping his, Sounds like fun! Sounded enthusiastic enough.

Bitty didn’t precisely forget about the renaissance fair for the rest of the week, but he put it out of his mind while reassuring his mother that he had enough underwear and yes, he intended to go with this haircut and no, he didn’t want to get the top cut short.

Returning to the Haus ended up helping put some of Bitty’s fears to rest. The guys in the Haus welcomed him back with open arms. The complimented his haircut, pretended to be impressed with the development of his muscles — with no skating, he had plenty of time to spend in the gym over the summer — and followed his instructions to get a “welcome back” dinner together, punctuated with a birthday pie for Jack.

Even Jack smiled when he saw Bitty, and took the case of beer Shitty had thrust at him to the basement fridge with no complaints.

Before bed that night, before she disappeared to sleep on the air mattress in Shitty’s room, Lardo told Bitty not to worry about a costume. “You can wear a pair of your athletic leggings, and I brought a big shirt you can wear like a tunic. I don’t suppose you have boots?”

“Boots?” Bitty asked. “Costume? You didn’t say I had to wear a costume.”

“You don’t have to,” Lardo said. “But I’m wearing one — like what I brought for you — and Shitty’s going as a pirate. I bet Random and Holster have costumes.”

“Really?” Bitty said.

“Holster said something about royalty,” Lardo said. “You know how over the top they are.”

The next morning, Bitty pulled on a pair of black leggings and a white T-shirt before Lardo knocked on the door and handed him an oversized ruffled shirt.

“Theater department costume room,” she explained. She looked at him with a critical eye. “Do you have a vest or anything? Or a belt?”

“I have a belt,” Bitty said.

“Give it to me,” she said, then wrapped it a little below Bitty’s waist, blousing the fabric of Bitty’s shirt artfully.

By the time the group assembled next to Holster’s old minivan, everyone was in costume except Jack. Shitty, as promised, was a pirate, complete with an eye patch and knee-high boots. Holster was indeed in cheap-looking king costume, probably from a Halloween catalog, and Ransom was an improbable queen. Lardo was dressed much like Bitty, although she had motorcycle boots and had painted her face and glued crystals under and next to her eyes.

“What are you?” Bitty asked.

“A fae,” Lardo said.

Jack wore his usual form-fitting jeans and a snug black T-shirt. When Bitty arrived, he thought Jack’s look lingered on him longer than usual, and fancied that Jack was suppressing the urge to shake his head at the silliness of it all.

“You couldn’t even try to get into the spirit of the day?” Holster asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Jack shrugged.

“This is me in the spirit,” he said. “I’m here.”

Ransom called shotgun, and Shitty and Lardo dove for the back, leaving the middle seats for Jack and Bitty.

“I think you look fine,” Bitty murmured as he leaned over to fasten his seatbelt. “I think I’m kind of ridiculous.”

“You look fine,” Jack returned, giving Bitty a reassuring smile. “You’ll fit right in. You don’t think Lardo would steer you wrong, do you?”

“What are you looking forward to the most?” Bitty asked. “I was thinking about the food — they say the turkey legs are the size of my head! Plenty of protein, I guess.”

“Almost,” Jack said. “But you know a lot of the food is modern. They even have soda.”

Jack seemed personally affronted by that.

“Not like they can serve mead to ten-year-olds,” Ransom pointed out from the front seat.

With the bantering that went on in the car, Bitty realized that he needn’t have worried that he didn’t know what would happen at a renaissance fair. With all the talk about what they were looking forward to, Bitty was pretty clear on what he would find: A lot of people pretending to be in Merrie Olde Englande, complete with extra e’s at the end, watching all kinds of performances from singing to animal acts, plus stage-fighting with swords and jousting on horseback. There were games of skill — mostly throwing things at targets, it sounded like — and simple, non-motorized rides like swings.

Lardo wanted to look at the artisans’ stalls — she was especially interested in the blacksmithing demonstration — and Shitty and the rest of the boys were looking forward to the tavern, and the serving wenches.

“They’ll put you out on your ass if you don’t behave,” Lardo warned them.

“We always behave,” Shitty said. “At least when it comes to not being disgusting pigs to women who are just trying to do their jobs, right, boys?

Ransom and Holster rolled their eyes, but agreed, and Bitty had a moment of being proud of the team he had become part of.

While the food would not be strictly period-accurate, Bitty was looking forward to trying some of the meat pies. He’d been wanting to incorporate more savories into his baking.

Once they piled out of the car and made it through the admission booths, Bitty found his eyes darting from the crowd, full of archers and knights and ladies and nobles, and, yes, woodland fairies with antlers on their heads and elves with long pointed ears.

He couldn’t always tell who was a guest and who was a cast member, although he assumed the jester who juggled while he walked and the man in doublet and hose standing on a box and declaiming poetry both worked there.

His costume did not stand out at all — if anything, it was a little basic, but there were plenty of people like Jack who hadn’t dressed up.

The booths and stalls and signposts were bedecked with flowers and ribbons, and the signs were hand painted and not always easy to read. Bitty found his head starting to swim, until he recognized the smell of baking pastry, and beef.

There was a pie stall right next to the entrance, so Bitty got in line. It wasn’t until he was close to the front that he realized most of his group had melted away. Only Jack stood next to him.

“You wanted pie too?” Bitty said.

“I’m holding out for a turkey leg,” Jack said. “Maybe we can get one after you get your pie? Then walk around and eat and figure out what we want to do? Lardo and Shitty said they were going to Artisan Alley, wherever that is, and I think Ransom and Holster said something about a strongman competition?”

“That would appeal to them,” Bitty agreed.

He ended up with two pies — chicken and beef, with vegetables and gravy — and a plastic tankard of ginger beer, which he suspected was really just ginger ale.

He and Jack made their way through the fairgrounds to the stand that sold turkey legs, noting places they’d like to go back to. It was never too early for Christmas presents, and there was a woolen shop that had shawls he thought Mama would like, right at the top of the row of shopping stalls, and Jack said he wanted to try his hand at throwing a wooden ball to knock down pins.

The line for turkey legs was long, and by the time they got to the front, he and Jack had finished both pies, trading bites. They were hot, which was good, but Bitty thought he could make better gravy, especially for the chicken, and come up with better seasonings. The pastry cases were crumbly, rather than flaky, but Bitty supposed they had to be sturdy enough for people to eat with their hands as they wandered.

“I thought they were good,” Jack said, popping the last bit of the beef pie into his mouth and sucking the remaining gravy off his thumb. “You want a turkey leg?”

“I couldn’t,” Bitty said. “Not yet.”

“You can have some of mine,” Jack promised.

Once they were again provisioned, they set off for the tournament field, where Holster and Ransom were indeed engaged in a contest to see who could lift the heaviest log. They did well, with Jack and Bitty cheering as loudly as they could, but a huge man wearing nothing but knee breeches and an open leather vest won.

“He was a ringer,” said Holster, breathing hard, as he pulled his crown back on.

He looked at Jack, tearing a mouthful of meat off the turkey leg, and said, “You almost fit right in. You know they rent costumes, right?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said.

Bitty, eating the meat he had pulled off the turkey leg with his fingers, said, “I dunno, Jack. You’d make a great Prince Charming.”

Because he looked like every Prince Charming in every Disney movie Bitty had ever seen, with his dark hair and blue eyes and pale skin. Not because Bitty thought of Jack as his own Prince Charming. That way, he knew, madness lay.

“So what do you think, Bitty?” Ransom asked. “Is it everything we promised?”

“So far,” Bitty said. “But all I’ve really done is eat and watch you try to pick up a tree. You want to find Lardo and Shitty?”

Horns blared, and Holster said, “The tournament’s starting. Let’s watch that, then see if we can find them before the Royal Parade at noon.”

“You guys go ahead,” Jack said. “I … want to see Lardo about something.”

Ransom and Holster stood on either side of Bitty, watching the knights on horseback thunder around the field, draped in colorful cloth matching the flags the knights on their backs carried. Then the knights took long poles and they ran at each other, narrowly missing each time, while the crowd around the field cheered. Finally, the queen — seated in a raised pavilion on the other side of the field — declared a winner by dropping a scarf to one of the knights, and the horses left the field.

“That means they’re getting ready for the parade,” Holster said. “Let’s find the others.”

Shitty and Lardo were saving space near the top of Artisan Alley, right in front of the woolen shop.

“You guys seen Jack?” Bitty asked. “He was looking for you.”

“He was at the leatherworker’s booth,” Shitty said. “Said he had something to show you, after the parade. But I thought he was going to meet us here.”

The same horns that had signaled the start of the tournament sounded again. There was a band coming, and a group of jugglers and acrobats, then all the knights riding slowly down the road, bowing to the people on each side.

At the end came the king and queen, seated on thrones on a horse-drawn float, preceded by ladies in their finery scattering flower petals.

Bitty finally caught sight of Jack on the other side of the road when the parade passed. He was still wearing the jeans and short black boots he’d started with, but he’d added a sleeveless dark blue tunic with a wide leather belt, and a blue, red and gold satiny cape.

“Good enough for you?” Jack asked, as the group crossed the dusty road, eyeing everyone before settling his gaze on Bitty.

“Oh, Jack, you know you didn’t have to,” Bitty said, suddenly feeling guilty in case he’d made Jack uncomfortable.

“But brah, you do look amazeballs,” Shitty said.

“Yeah, dude,” Ransom said. “Like, I have this whole costume on, and you add a shirt and a cape and somehow look better.”

Lardo just nodded in approval.

“So,” Holster said. “As your king, I declare Jack to be a noble of the realm. And I declare that it’s time for lunch.”

Holsted led the way to a restaurant that actually featured chairs and tables and food served on dishes, and everyone fell in. Jack and Bitty brought up the rear.

“The costume really does look good,” Bitty said.

“I actually got the belt first,” he said. “I bought that. At the leather shop. The cape and the tunic I rented. But I got you something too.”

Jack pulled a satchel that was hidden under the cape forward and opened it, and took out a laced leather vest.

“It’s called a jerkin,” he said.

Bitty almost snorted, but didn’t.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say that in front of … anyone else here. But I thought it would look good with the shirt you have on. And then if you come to one these again, you’ll have something to start with.”

Jacks cheeks were pink when he finished his little speech.

“Jack,” Bitty said, feeling his own cheeks flame in response. “You really, really didn’t have to. You know that, right?”

But he was already pulling the vest on and tightening the laces, making a snug bodice to contrast with the billowy sleeves and collar. The shirttails almost looked like a skirt coming out from under his belt.

“What do you think?” Jack asked.

“I … really like it,” Bitty said. He felt less like a kid in a nightgown this way, more like a proper boy.

“You look good,” Jack said.

Then they went in to join the others, who had already ordered platter of such medieval fair as nachos and chicken fingers.

“Looking good, Bits,” Lardo said, when Bitty sat on the bench next to her.

The beer came by the pitcher, and Bitty indulged with his friends, and then joined them as they spent the next several hours laughing at a slapstick comedy show, getting their caricatures drawn in all sorts of combinations, and helping Holster choose the perfect sword to complement his costume.

Lardo came with him to buy a shawl for his mother, helping him choose a soft blue and gray pattern that she said went with his brown eyes.

“Your mother has your coloring, right?” Lardo asked. “This will look nice, then, Maybe not as nice as that jerkin, but …”

Bitty huffed and turned away in pretend annoyance. To be honest, he liked knowing Lardo agreed that it looked good. She wouldn’t lie about that.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, after he paid and they were on their way to join the group for the last joust of the day. “Do you know why Jack bought this for me?”

“Because he thought you’d like it?”

“Lardo, I’m serious. I saw what the prices were like in that shop. Why would he do that?”

“It’s not like he told me,” Lardo said. “But he did show it to me and ask if I thought it would fit. I think … he likes you, Bits, and he’s worried about you.”

Because Jack didn’t think he’d be able to play this season?

Lardo continued as though Bitty had voiced his question.

“He thought you seemed … nervous, I guess, about moving into the Haus, being the new guy, all of that,” Lardo said. “And this is a team bonding activity. Might as well dress the part.”

“Is that why he got himself a costume too?”

“I guess,” Lardo said. “You could ask him.”

By the time the sun was sinking towards the west, the team was tired and cranky and ready to leave. Holster, who had partaken of much more beer than Jack, gave up the car keys without a fight (thank God, Bitty thought) and he and Ransom collapsed on top of each other in the back seat. Lardo and Shitty took the middle, leaving Bitty to ride shotgun while Jack drove.

The car was quiet, with most everybody sleeping or just looking out at the New England evening. Jack played what Bitty thought of as “dad rock” and hummed along, almost inaudibly, until Bitty said, “Lardo said you were worried about me.”

Jack made a noise that showed he heard, but didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry if you’ve been concerned,” Bitty said. “I’ll be alright.”

“I know,” Jack said. “But it’s nothing to apologize for. You’ll be fine, and if you’re not, I — we’ll all be here to support you until you are. I know moving into the Haus — it’s like being new on the team again, in a way. We need to make sure you know we have your back.”

“By buying me clothes?” Bitty asked.

“Whatever it takes,” Jack said. “Even putting on a costume myself.”

“You didn’t have to,” Bitty said, even though he knew he was repeating himself. Then he fell silent, wondering if his head was more muddled than he thought.

“I know,” Jack said. “But it seemed like it might be fun.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “It’s fun to be part of the group sometimes. As long as it’s a group you like.”

“I think so too,” Bitty said.

Jack hummed along to the song about a horse with no name, and Bitty thought about what it meant to be part of the group, and what it meant that Jack had wanted Bitty to feel like he belonged.

It was team bonding, of course. And it was Haus bonding. But Bitty felt like maybe, maybe it was something more.

#zimbits #omg check please #omgcp #my fic #prompt fill

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afternoondreaming · 3 months ago

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No Business Like Show Business (3/?)

Hey there, everyone! Sorry it’s been a bit of a hot minute without any writings- celebrated my birthday this month, so I’ve been a tad busy! Now I’m rewarding myself with writing my dear Puzzle man. Also, can’t believe they let my man say fuck. We’re truly in the future, folks

“…Starlet? Oh, Starlet…? Do you make a habit of ‘spacing out’?” Mr. Puzzles leaned across the table to get closer to your eye level, waving his hand in front of your face. You were, as of current, left aghast at the man’s suggestion. Work alone? It was ridiculous. A studio couldn’t be ran by itself! Yet, the more you thought of it, the more the puzzle pieces fit together. A building bereft of staff, left obviously unused. The interviews where he simply posed the questions to himself. All the unanswered résumés constantly being shipped in… Besides those few actors he had on board briefly, which he seemed to hold a grudge against given his attitude in the shows, this was a one man show.

“How… Do you pump out all this content?” You spoke slowly, turning your focus to him again. He looked surprised that you finally spoke up, but quickly switched his screen to a more offended face.

“Excuse you! I don’t make content and it’s not ‘pumped out’!” If a TV could pout, it was about as close as one could get to it. “I make art! I make cinema!” Mr. Puzzles roughly slammed his hands against the desk, kicking up dust as he sprung to his feet. As you began to cough, he continued his confident rambling. “Puzzlevision’s film making techniques are proprietary, so! Until you sign on the dotted line and accept such a golden opportunity, you’ll never know~!” The man looked smug as he leaned closer across the table, goading you on.

As you tried to wave away the rest of the dust, you began to think. You were certainly curious and having such a big name on your résumé would certainly catapult you to whatever heights you wanted to reach. There was just one problem…“Listen, Mr. Puzzles, while I really want to accept this offer… The commute will be way too long. I need to find a place first before I can accept-“

“Oh! That. Easy fix!” He habitually interrupted you, rising from his chair to round the table towards you. “It’s rather common for companies to cover moving costs and provide local housing listings~ I believe there’s a few in the apartment complex across the street! We’ll simply get you settled in there.” Like a fact he said it plainly, hand coming down to pay your shoulder assuredly. “I take it you accept, then?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“Perfect!” The TV in front of you turned manic, eerie face with realistic eyes and smile jittering. “Time to share my genius Puzzlevision process, partner.” Suddenly you felt a pull. A gravitational force towards the man’s screen, all the while that disturbing face towered over you.

“Woah- hey- what’s going on-!” Before you could finish your sentence, you were pulled closer to the screen. Vision quickly going to black as you lost all awareness of the dusty interview room around you.

“Ugh… What just happened…?” You groaned, pushing yourself up off of the floor you were lying on. As you got your bearings, you wished you didn’t. All around you, you were surrounded by void. Giant TVs all around you filled with a low, droning static. Shaking, you picked yourself up off the floor. “Hello…? Is anyone there?” You were in an interview before, right?

“Welcome! To the Puzzlevision proprietary secret!” A booming, familiar voice called out. Up from the void below rose a giant, familiar figure. Right. Mr. Puzzles. How could you possibly forget. “You’re absolutely star struck, Starlet, I know~!” With a knuckle he tapped against the side of his head causing the whole world to shake, nearly toppling you over again. “My head always makes for the best sets and crew!”

“I’m… In your head.” It was hard to believe. I mean, who possibly could? First the man has a TV for a head in the first place. Now this? “Right now. Your head. In it.”

“Right you are, my dear little Starlet! Who needs a studio when you have the realm of imagination!” Mr. Puzzles dramatically struck a pose, a happy smile on his face as he waited for your reaction.

“And you expect me to work here.” It felt like your head was going to explode.

“Well, when we’re filming, yes!” Your question seemed to take him aback, pose dropping as he looked confused. “If you’d like to write in here, you certainly can… But I will gladly dust off the old studio for you and I to brainstorm in~” There it was again. The fact that only you two- and, let’s face it, it’s essentially just you- will be writing, producing, and workshopping movies. Entirely. By. Yourself.

“I…I think I’m gonna lie down for a minute...”

“Starlet? Starlet-!” You couldn’t hear the rest of the flamboyant man’s cries, as you quickly found yourself dropping like a puppet with its strings cut all the way to the ground.

#fanfic #x reader #mr puzzles #mr puzzles x reader #self insert #self insert fanfic #smg4 mr puzzles #Mr puzzles x you #smg4 fanfic #smg4 puzzlevision #self ship fanfiction #self ship

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ririya-translates · 7 months ago

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Fumi's Short Story

Translation of Fumi's concept art short story (original) for his birthday on June 14th. Story by Shin Towada (JJ lead writer and Ishida's sister). Art by Lownine. I'm not quite sure how to list spoilers for this one so I'll just say I guess no plot spoilers but some general character spoilers? Nothing major though.

The dance room stands empty. If one were to slowly take in a deep breath, they'd feel a sudden chill of loneliness. Univeil Drama School. Students here are encouraged to practice every day to prepare for their performances. As an all-boys school, the male and female roles are both played by boys. Classes compete with each other for superiority through their shows five times a year. It drives students to hold nothing back in making their plays the best.

One person now stands in the dance room. Fumi quietly calms his breathing. Apparently also known as Sarafumi Takashina, he's part of the 'transparent' Quartz class and now in his third and final year.

At this school, students in male and female roles are called Jacks and Jeannes. With his eye-catching looks and aggressively seductive charm, Fumi acts as a Jeanne. But he isn't just any Jeanne. Those responsible for lead roles are the ones who truly excel above the rest. The top of the Jeannes is the Al Jeanne. It's a heavy responsibility, but he always acted casually about it.

"Well then…" Fumi takes out the music player. He presses play and music begins to flow in as if to ward away the silence. Closing his eyes, his body begins to sway slowly, ever so slightly. Vibrations echo through the room from the sound of his feet pressing firmly against the floor and up into the air. He opens his scarlet eyes and catches sight of himself in the mirror.

Al Jeannes can't just be all-around good at everything. They need an undefeatable weapon. For Fumi, the weapon is dance. With every step he swaps between his masculine power and feminine elegance.

Melding into the music, approaching a pure meditative state, a shadow of a person arises in the back of his mind. (…Tsuki) Fumi closes his eyelids to search his memories. (…?) In that moment, he feels eyes on him. Those eyes look at Fumi for just a moment before the person turns to leave without saying a word. (Ugh, this guy is always difficult) Fumi turns off the music. "Hey, did you come here for something?" he calls out. The other person stops walking. "Just speak your mind, Kai." "….I'm disturbing you." The man of few words is Kai -- Kai Mutsumi. He's also a Quartz student in the same year as Fumi. "You're the Jack Ace. I wish you'd act more proud about it." Much like Al Jeanne is the ultimate level of Jeanne, Jack Ace is the top of the Jacks. The two of them form Quartz's leading duo. Kai shakes his head in a refusal as if saying 'I don't want that.' "I'm not the Jack Ace currently, since we're practicing for the newcomer's performance." It's the spring season. Just a little while back, those who passed the rigorous auditions entered into Univeil as first-years. The newcomer's performance doubles as both a way to let them try lead roles and to display their talents. Roles have been decided on already and preparations are underway for the show in May. "If you put it that way, then I'm also not the Al Jeanne." As the typical leads, Fumi and Kai's duty is to act as support for the new students. Kai shakes his head again. "Wherever you are, whenever it is, you are always the face of Quartz."

(Despite us both joining Univeil in the same class at the same time and now being the leading duo, you and I are not the same.)

Kai silently urges him with his eyes, standing still as a shadow. A sigh starts to spill out of Fumi's mouth. He gulps it back and shrugs his shoulders so that Kai doesn't notice. "So, what'd you need?" "I was told you're needed to consult on the dance for the performance." "Ahh, that director of ours is the same as always. All right, gimme a bit more time and I'll head over." Kai turns saying, "sorry for disturbing you,"and leaves the dance room.

After the door closes and Kai's presence fades, Fumi blows out the sigh he was holding in. "'I'm not the Jack Ace.' Oh for fuck's sake. This guy… Well, I guess it's not all his fault is it?" Fumi was selected as the Al Jeanne practically the moment he entered Univeil. He was partnered with a student two years older than him, the Jack Ace genius known as the pinnacle of Univeil. The same person who came to mind when dancing in his trance-like state. --Tsuki Tachibana. That's the name of the genius. The one who unleashed such dazzling brilliant light while standing on the Univeil stage. Even now, Fumi and the others stand in the shadow of the high wall he built.

Fumi begins to dance again. He spins and spins over and over like the dancer on top of a music box. Wanting to empty out his mind, turning, turning, turning. Twisting around in this dance room filled with such loneliness, he feels as if he might freeze over. "…!" Suddenly, he senses feverish heat. (Ohh, it's that one is it?) He glances towards the dance room mirror to catch the reflection of one of the new first-years. This one has a Jeanne face, but strong determined features. He desperately tries to pick up the techniques as he watches Fumi dance, holding himself back to avoid interrupting. The feverishly passionate gaze feels nice. The infectious feeling spreads and Fumi's repetitive spinning round and round becomes a dance filled with passion. (…Since it's for this one)

We completely change even ourselves, don't we? Feelings begin to well up in him, unsure if this is a premonition or a wish. It's all because of this younger student, the one with a face quite resembling the one of that genius.

"…Well now." Fumi stops his dancing and turns his head. "How was that, audience?" The first-year who had been staring at the dance intently as if devouring it, quickly comes to his senses. "I'm sorry for peeking in without asking!" he says quickly while bowing his head. "Eh, it's fine. No big deal." Fumi lightens the mood while slowly taking a step towards the new student.

(TL note: the verb for taking a step forward is 'fumidasu' 踏み出す which feels quite intentional)

#jack jeanne #jackjeanne #otome #otome game #sarafumi takashina #shin towada #my favourite special boy #he's kinda a mess tbh #already down bad

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amee-racle-ofmyown · 5 months ago

Note

Hey, Amee!! I hope you’re doing well <3

If by any chance you’re up to it, could you please write a fic about Heist Mark being super jealous of Yancy because he and Y/N clearly seem to be into each other?? I LOVE your art and writings and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head <3 (Obviously no pressure, though!)

I'm so happy to hear you enjoy my work, thank you🥺💖 and thank you for your request! it got me out of a terrible writer's block. on that note, sorry this took quite some time, I've been in a bit of a funk of on and off general creative block, and unable to finish any writing at all for even longer. this was a pretty fun challenge! I myself view Yancy platonically so I wasn't quite sure where to go with this initially, and I had to fight every urge to just make this heist mark x y/n dfsjsjsv. that said, it did end up being more heist mark-centric than maybe you intended? in which case, I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself😔 yancy is there but very briefly haha

Don't you tell me that you never even thought, 'maybe we could run'

2,603 words | Read on AO3

‘We're all gonna be rehearsing tomorrow so youse best get some sleep.’

You nod as you close the gate to yours and Mark's shared cell, stifling a yawn.

‘Goodnight, Yancy.’

You hold each other's gaze for a moment, before he turns and heads off, a tattooed hand over the back of his neck and a sweet smile still on his face. You watch as he disappears into the outer hallway and a guard appears to lock up your cell for the evening.

Your long-time accomplice and friend stands at the edge of your vision, arms folded.

‘Having fun with your new boyfriend, buddy?’ he asks, sounding unimpressed and slightly strained.

‘Oh, shush, Mark,’ you chide, but your stomach flips at the notion.

‘Yeah… Well, while you were busy playing Broadway,’ he glances to either side of the cell outside and continues in a lowered voice, ‘I've been hard at work hatching our escape. And I'm telling you, it's foolproof.’

‘Uh huh. As foolproof as your other three failed plans? I really don't wanna get thrown in solitary again.’

‘Please, that was one time! — and I don't see you bothering to come up with any ideas. Even though you pretty much got us into this mess.’

That accusation ticks you off, but you're quick to retaliate.

‘Are you seriously still hung up on that? How is this my fault? You couldn't fly a helicopter, why would you assume I can? You shouldn't have even presented it as an option!’

Your exclamation earns you a couple looks from other inmates slowly filing into their cells for the night.

‘Nevermind that now,’ Mark says, infuriatingly placatingly, ‘do you wanna hear the plan or not?’

The thread of uncertainty that you've been avoiding coils tight in your chest and you pause, wondering how to bring up what's been nagging at you for days.

‘Um, so, I've been thinking. What if… what if we don't try to escape?’

‘Ha ha. Funny joke, pal.’

‘I'm serious, Mark. We could just… stay here and wait out our sentence, if we play it safe we might even get our time reduced on good behaviour. We could be gone in like a decade. Or a few years! Maybe. Probably. Maybe.’ Wishful thinking, perhaps.

He scoffs, as if the idea isn't even worth considering.

‘There is no way you're genuinely telling me to just wait it out. Maybe you haven't noticed since you've been in la-la land lately, but we're not on vacation, we're in prison,’ Mark spouts, voice growing thick with agitation. ‘What was supposed to be the heist of a lifetime, would've set us up for decades to come, is still on the line! And we're on a bit of a time crunch here — I don't trust that warden guy one bit with the Box, or in general,’ he sneers. ‘I mean what kind of name is Murder-Slaughter? Ugh, do we even know for sure if he still has it?’

‘Yancy mentioned seeing it in his office the last time he was there, which was earlier today, so yeah, probably.’

‘Ugh, there you go again about Yancy. It's always Yancy this, Yancy that, blah blah blah, Yancy!’

‘Wh– I was just answering your question!’

‘Y'know what? I'm sick and tired of being the only one taking this seriously while you act like it's all a big party.’

He places a hand on his hip, the other poking a finger towards you as he speaks. It would be comical, if he wasn't acting like a jerk.

‘What's up with you?’

‘What's up with me? What's up with you? You seriously wanna stay in this— this shithole, ‘cause of what? Some pretty face you've known for all of like, less than two weeks??’

‘Oh my God, Mark, it's not that terrible, and Yancy is actually my friend, he's been nothing but welcoming and kind since we got here, and—’

‘Oh, did you forget that he tried to beat you up when you first met? Real interesting, how you let that little detail slip.’

‘We just got off on the wrong foot, he's really—’

It's then that you see it — something in the slight hunch in his gait, the furrow of his brow, his pursed lips and tense jaw — and you wonder why you hadn't noticed before. It's not just anger and frustration, it's something bitter and personal.

‘Mark… are you jealous?’

Bingo. His eyes only widen a sliver, for a fraction of a second, but you're so used to reading him that even the most imperceptible of reactions on his usually very expressive face have become familiar to you.

‘Psh. I'm not jealous.’

‘You so are jealous! Oh my god, you're super duper jealous,’ you say with a grin, revelling in this new information.

‘Shut up, why would I be jealous?’ he protests, trying to sound nonchalant. But it's too late. You've already seen through it.

‘Is that what this is about?’ you say with a laugh. ‘You just want my attention back or something?’

He stares blankly for a moment.

‘Are you serious right now? You actually think the only reason I'm mad is because some random dude just waltzes in and starts acting all buddy buddy with you and you fall head-over-heels,’ he jeers with his hands either side of his face, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. ‘Hook, line and sinker.’

‘Mark—’

‘I mean, never mind your partner, right? You know, your best friend who you've known and worked with for years? Who cares what he thinks?!’

‘Mark, I—’

‘In fact, he can get punched through a wall for all you care! You won't even bat an eye, as long as there's a random spontaneous musical number immediately afterwards, it's all in good fun!’

‘Ok, that's not fair,’ you push back. ‘Of course I was worried! But I was also surrounded by violent criminals at the time, we've been over this!’

‘Oh, so they're “violent criminals” now? But they're simply “hurt, misunderstood souls” when it suits you?!’ he shoots back, making air quotes to emphasise his point.

‘They're people, Mark! They're allowed to be… multi-faceted!’

‘Lights out, everybody,’ comes a guard's voice, ringing through the hallway as it suddenly becomes dark, save for the glow of dim lamplight emanating from one or two of the other cells.

‘Whatever, let's just get some sleep,’ Mark grumbles under his breath.

‘You always do this!’ you whisper harshly, but inadvertently let the volume slip back into your voice as you feel your blood boil. ‘You try to cut things off and act like the “bigger person” just to get out of an argument that, newsflash, YOU'RE LOSING.’

‘Oh, whatever, what-f*cking-ever!’

‘You're being so damn overdramatic, Mark! It's not like I'm trying to break up our team.’

‘Yeah, well– well maybe we should!’

You don't know why it jolts you like a gunshot when he says it, but it does. His words, the force and resentment behind them, pierce you to your core. It stops any quick-fire response you had at the ready in its tracks.

Regret immediately flashes across his face, but he quickly attempts to cover it with a steely, hardened gaze. ‘Clearly, we want different things. So maybe it's for the best.’

‘Hey!’ one of the guards calls out from across the hall. ‘Lights out means quiet, you two. Don't make us separate you into different cells.’

With a frustrated huff, you reluctantly traipse off to bed, yours being the lower half of the bunk while Mark settles above you.

It really is a rather decent bed. The mattress is nothing special, but comfortable, and the soft blanket is accompanied by an oddly luxurious, fluffy pillow. Definitely above what you'd expect is probably average prison standards. Frankly, you don't know what Mark's problem is with this place. It's honestly not half bad. As far as you expect jails go, it surely could be a lot worse.

You lay back and let your breathing even out, trying your best to allow some of the bubbling anger to die down. Eventually, you hear the guards leave.

Time passes, it could be minutes or hours; it's not like the passage of time has felt right at all to you since that last heist.

It's silent, save for the sound of your breaths and Mark's above you. You're still upset with him, but the sound of him breathing nearby has always been oddly comforting. The two of you have had plenty of close calls as a pair — even times when you had to patch each other up after jobs that went particularly badly. If you got injured on a heist, you couldn't simply call an ambulance or show up at a hospital in an emergency and risk having your whole operation blown. That was simply the nature of your line of work.

At the worst of times, as long as you could hear those steady, even breaths, you could tell yourself he would pull through, and things would be fine.

You idly watch the mattress above you, letting the rhythm of your friend's breathing become a gentle white noise, and think.

You think about that heist and the Box. Ancient, coveted, mysterious. Sitting atop its perch in the museum vault, in all its glory and allure, practically asking to be stolen. The gleam of the gem encrusted in its surface. You wonder if the prize held within would be worth all of this, if you managed to get it back.

You think about Yancy, a little rough and a little troubled and not seeing much point in trying to kick old habits; but fun and soft and sensitive and full of remorse. You think about the feeling of your hand in his when you practise a routine with him, how his whole face lights up when he's excited or falls when he's sad or pensive. You think about how he has made this penitentiary into a home, and these inmates into a family.

You think about Mark. Silly, stupid, steadfast Mark, snarky and thoughtful and loyal. Who isn't actually as dumb as he lets on. Who is resourceful and quick-thinking when a plan needs to be formed. Who makes bad puns and trusts you whole-heartedly, and who always lets you decide which course of action to take, no matter how much he disagrees, simply due to his unwavering faith in you. Mark, your co-worker, your friend, your partner in crime. Who is maybe a little enamoured with you, despite you trying to ignore it. Who you half-heartedly agreed to go on a date with, not having it in you to turn him down, nor prepared for the guilt that would be eating away at you now.

You think about one of the first things he told you when you landed yourselves at Happy Trails: About how he doesn't belong here, but maybe you do. What if he were to leave and you were to stay? The thought breaks your heart a little.

Then, a whisper from above into the quiet, gently interrupting your thoughts.

‘Hey, you still awake?’

‘...Yeah.’

You hear his voice, soft-spoken, but clear enough that you can hear the sincerity laced into it.

‘I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so worked up.’

‘Yeah, I'm sorry too,’ you reply, matching his volume.

‘And I didn't mean it,’ he says, and you think you hear the slightest tremble in the statement, almost as if he's fighting tears, and for a second you wish you could see his face, ‘what I said before, about uh, splitting up. I know I joke about that kind of thing all the time, and not coming back for you… But you know I don't really mean it, right?’

You've certainly had your doubts in the past, but those moments seem so far away now; footnotes in a slowly unfolding tale, stepping stones on the journey the pair of you have taken together as you worked your way from theft to theft to get to this point. As much as you'd butt heads over the years, you could always count on each other and you always stuck together.

‘Right?’

‘Yeah, I know…’

‘...And, alright, your lack of interest in breaking out aside, maybe I am kinda jealous.’

‘Ha! I knew it.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He sighs. ‘It's just… it took us a while to be like we are now and yet, you're suddenly so close to him when it hasn't even been that long, it just doesn't feel fair. I dunno, it's stupid.’

‘Nah, I get it. I'm sorry if I made you feel left behind.

‘And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel pressured into something you're actually just not all that into.’

You feel a bit of tension leave your chest as a small smile appears on your face. ‘I appreciate that.’

In some ways you're grateful for the small bed separating you and preventing you from being face to face. You think it makes this easier for both of you.

‘I don't want to lose you, y'know? I mean, we're supposed to be partners. Ride or die, remember?’

‘Oh, Mark… You know I still trust you with my life…’ You pause, considering your words. ‘For the first time in ages, things feel a little more complicated than just being about us.’

A beat, then you hear him inhale, and he says your name, foregoing any of his usual nicknames.

‘...Are you… happy here? Does he make you happy?’

‘There's things I miss about freedom, sure, but it's not so bad here. And let's face it, our crimes were probably gonna catch up to us eventually, one way or another, right? And Yancy…’ You let out the smallest huff of laughter, smiling to yourself once again. ‘You're right, it hasn't been very long… There's just something about him, I guess. I know he might be a little much at times but I enjoy being around him, and he honestly seems like he wants to make up for things he's done in the past by being here. Maybe nothing will come of this but even so, in a weird way, he kind of makes me want to do better?’

Mark breathes a good-natured huff of laughter as well, and the two of you take a moment to muse on the irony of that sentiment.

‘I just– I can't handle being stuck here,’ he finally says. ‘But you're right, nothing I've tried so far has worked, anyway.’

‘Y'know… Yancy knows all the ins and outs of this place. He could probably help us if we wanted it.’

‘Do you want it?’

Do you want to leave or stay? The real question beneath it all.

You're quiet again, and it feels as if every possibility is laid out before you, only obscured.

‘I don't know,’ you say eventually. ‘I need more time to think. I just don't want you to think I'm making a choice between you or him, there's so many other things I need to consider. That we need to consider.’

‘That's fair… Just don't take too long, ok? Not like we can pause or rewind time, haha.’

‘Right… In the meantime, could you at least try to get along with Yancy and the others? You might like them if you give them a chance.’

‘... Fine, I'll try,’ he acquiesces.

You raise a hand to your mouth to cover a yawn. A far more comfortable silence falls over the room, and you start to feel sleep overtake you.

‘... Hey, Mark?’

‘Yeah?’

‘We're still partners.’

If nothing else, you hope this will reassure him.

‘...Ok. Sweet dreams, partner.’

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billygoat26 · 2 months ago

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Puzzle Park (WOTFI 2024 song) Lyrics

Red: Mario

Blue: SMG4

Orange: Meggy

Purple: SMG3 and others together

Green: SMG3

Blue and regular: Tari

Regular: Mr Puzzles

Pink: Mario, SMG4, and Meggy together

Welcome everyone, to Puzzle Park! Lights and magic, it's a work of art! When you enter here, the fun will start You're MINE, you'll never part! Oh, it's going to be so much fun!! Getting you to watch you pay For all you've done! 3,2,1 There's wondrous fun and games inside, attractions big and small, like a 100 foot tall mega-slide that splats you on the wall!

Not-a so fast!

Stop right there!

You better be prepared!

'cuz we'll end this when we find your secret lair!

I'm-a havin' fun! Let's-a stay!

No, cut it out, there's no time to waste!

He's just this way Today, we'll teach him justice and we'll make him pay!

Step right up, my friends, to Puzzle Park! Sights and frights, not for the faint of heart! Don't you break away, you won't get far! Keep your hands and legs inside this ride is right about to start! Don't take my word for it!

Take it from US!! The food here is a must! In addition with your ticket, You get PuzzleVision Plus!

Try the gift shop!

You can't miss it!

And get yourself a plush! Mr Puzzles is a fella you can trust!!

Evil demons, go to hell!!

Ugh, this isn't really going well!

We don't have much more ground to tread The engine room is straight ahead!!!

Step right up, my friends, to Puzzle Park! (You best prepare.) Sights and frights, not for the faint of heart! (We’re almost there!) Don't you break away, you won't get far! (So say your prayers!) Keep your hands and legs inside this ride is right about to start!

Well, it took you a while to find out, but you found out my secret hideout! Like to say congratulations, but it's time for you to die now

We've got to end this ride

You go left!

I’ll go right!

Betcha thought you would win this fight, but you went and messed with the wrong side!!

You can't just barge in here and act like you're in charge! I'd like to see you dodge a barrage of flaming rockets and tell me you're feelin' large!

You're as good as evicted!

Say goodbye to your park, there's nothing your magical wishes can do to stop us!

You've just been tried and convicted!

You think you've won?? Well, I'm gonna turn your filthy corpses into gushing mounds of blood! Your lives are as good as done!!

No, stop! I know there's a scared little child inside you. He's hiding away, wouldn't want me to fight you. (No!!) It's not too late, reach out and take my hand and we can change your fate

Oh, Meggy dear... That child is gone, six feet under right were you and your stupid friends belong!!!

Step right up, my friends, to Puzzle Park! Sights and frights, not for the faint of heart! Don't you break away, you won't get far! Keep your hands and legs inside this ride is right about to start!

#billygoat talks #wotfi 2024 #smg4 wotfi #smg4 #mr puzzles #smg4 meggy #mario smg4 #smg4 puzzlevision #smg4 mr puzzles #puzzle park #smg3 #smg4 tari

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m1ssunderstanding · 1 year ago

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Five

The thing is I absolutely love the album that comes out of this mess. Like I know a lot of people do not like Let It Be, but so many of my favorite songs are on it. One of them being “I Me Mine.” The walz element is haunting, and I can read the lyrics as anti-capitalist even though George himself mostly wasn’t.

Laughing my head off at two boys from one of the best grammar schools in England, who have at this point made millions off of their writing, genuinely not knowing whether it should be “more freer” or “more freely”

The difference in how George shows Paul his new song vs John is striking. For Paul, he’s relaxed, nonchalant. For John, he stands up and performs it. And I think both are a defense mechanism, poor baby, because clearly, although Paul was very supportive of the song while they were alone, when John is roasting it, Paul just laughs along and George has to go “I don’t give a fuck whether you like it.”

Ah, the famous “up-against-a-wall” conversation. Paul comes in all dominant and sure. “Haven’t you written anything else? Haven’t you?” But then John touches him, and makes him laugh, and Paul’s a melted, goo-goo-eyes mess. This is the real reason why John got to be the leader isn’t it? Because Paul was too damn soft on him to ever follow through with his bossiness.

Their scouse sounds BEAUTIFUL compared to the stupid ugly RP and MLH’s transatlantic shit.

“And now John’d like to say a few words on the subject.” John starts singing, Paul strums along and joins in on the “chorus.” They can’t communicate like healthy people, but they Can do this.

So Peter Jackson took out Paul’s bitchy nod at Yoko as he’s stealing her man in real time right in front of her eyes. Unforgivable. But he kept in this adorable laugh, so that’s something.

Three more covers that I think *mean something* “Stand By Me” and “Spinning Like a Top” by Paul, followed by “You Win Again” by John. Yoko’s sweet little shoulder kiss. Thank you for taking care of the poor wet kitten, girly. Maybe don’t introduce the poor wet kitten to heroine, but you do you, I guess. (OP recognizes that poor wet kitten is also an adult capable of making his own decisions)

The cut from Paul literally dancing to get John’s attention straight to John dancing with Yoko while inside Paul’s head a silver hammer is clanging ominously. I can’t. Followed by the knowing, loving smile from Ringo to Paul. You know, those moments when you validate your friend’s bitchy thoughts with a look.

George is literally SO big inside himself, you know? You have to have superhuman self-love abilities to watch your friend – who is supposed to be helping you – shamelessly make fun of your art . . . and just “Do you wanna do that walz on the show? That’d be great.”

But did you guys know John was actually a really great mover?

“Yes, alright. Just sod off.” I love John. Paul’s people-pleasing ass would literally die first and he needs John to do this kind of shit for him and John’s only too happy to.

The moment when Paul and John are on the same wavelength about Dennis O’Dell’s stage.

OK but. Did John get the clear plastic idea from Yoko’s art exhibits?

“Any time we do anything it’s always got to be the best.” Poor Ringo. They’re all literally so tired of carrying so much weight for such a long time.

“See, I’d watch an hour of him just playing the piano. Cause he’s so great.” With that fond, loving, smile. SUCH big dick energy here. The others could NEVER.

“And I’ll have the plastic when you’re finished.” Literally for what, though? John, you little hoarding goblin.

And then Ringo responding to MLH’s “I love you” with “Yes, I love you too.” Yeah, Ringo wins the prize for most healthy beatle of the day.

*Pattie Boyd voice* “I just wish I knew what was going on there. But something. Something.”

Ugh, John looks so hurt. So tender. So heartbroken. While Paul is over there playing a damn funeral march because that’s the only way he lets himself express anything. But I actually love how Dennis O’Dell knows the clearest path to cheering John up is to say that Paul liked his idea. And how well it works. They’re literally so obvious to everyone but themselves.

I love the bit when John walks in on the rest of them discussing the live show and MLH calls, “We’ve decided. We’re going to Africa.” And Paul hurries to cut in, “No we’re NOT.” Because he knows exactly how John can get and he’s going to nip this in the bud before John gets let down. And of course, John is all “YEAH LETS GO LETS GO!” And he’s talking about how they always wish they were recording abroad. “We could be in LA, or FRANCE.” (side eye emoji)

Paul’s “Well said, John.” and “I’ve seen it, John. I went to the premiere. I thought you were great.” Why do all your compliments to him have to be in silly voices? Like, I know you think everyone is going to call you a pussy for saying something genuinely kind to your best friend, but they’re not, and he needs it.

Holy shit this was a long day. See you all tomorrow with another long-winded-ass post.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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trippygalaxy · 3 months ago

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UHM! HI this is just gonna be me rambling about some of my mutuals cause I cherish them all and everything they've done for me

no i will not be tagging them, the tumblr gods will decide if they find this or not

Cal, gods I have so much to say about them but they could honestly be their own post by themselves /pos. I -genuinely- wouldn't be here today if it wasnt for them, so many times have they unknowingly helped me out of horrible places in my life, and I could never put my love for them into words no matter how many poems i write in their honour. They are one of the best friends ive ever had in my life, they are the most genuine, selfless, precious people ive had the pleasure of knowing.

Maj- oh i miss talking to him so much you dont understand!!! I love love loved sending them silly stories in her askbox, their way of thinking and breaking down stories were the most delicious things! Not only that but the art??? Their ocs always enticed me and i would willing sit down and listen to them talk about them for hours if i could. They are FUCKING HALRIOUS TOO!!! They've -without even trying- have given me so many belly laughs when i needed that the most.

But i seem them in their new fandom with other moots and im so happy shes having fun /gen

GASP! MY SPOUSE!!! Fir! UGH i love them so much /p They are so encouraging, and they help me so much when it comes to stories and figuring stuff out- and they WROTE SO MUCH FOR ME???? IM SO GREATFUL FOR EVERYTHING THEY'VE MADE AND DONE FOR ME AND I WISH I COULD REPAY IT BACK 10 FOLDS! I feel so free when speaking with them, like im able to be a part of me where i cant with others and its- its so relieving.

Vaati- a genuine inspiration. I was a HUGE fan of his shifting sands series when I found it on instagram and when i say HE MOVED TO TUMBLR?! I WAS FUCKING ESTATIC!!!! Also very worried that his art got stolen but it was clear it wasnt- ANYWAYS! When I first found him, i was so ready to just give up on art -before my digital art era- because when i stared at my art all i saw was bland strokes of a pencil that could never be compared to what others had made, but when I found his comic that was FULLY TRADTIONAL I was stunned. I showed it to everyone I knew, whether they knew loz/lu or not, i needed them to see the talent and beauty I found. And he was the beginning of me starting to relearn to love traditional art again, and how much more beautiful it was to me compared to any digital piece

ARIA!!! I was in awe of her cute style- and i saw her make art for Sacred realm and i was HOOKED! Genuinely, I was like 'oop- have to be friends with her now' and though we dont talk that much, im constantly impressed with her growth even when she thinks its trash. That girl has SO much potential, and im estatic to see what she does with it. OH AND THE ART SHES MADE FOR FAROLA?! **MWAH!!!** Honestly she made me love Farola again-

Major, an unrated GEM, one of the most encouraging, heartfelt and creative person ive met on this site. She is, and will always be, someone I look to when I need a push or when im unsure about doing something (like this!) cause I know that she will never cease her amazing ability to encourage and inspire those around her.

Finky and Isa- some of the most iconic styles ive seen, its amazing to see them grow and keep their styles while still improving. AND THE AMOUNT OF ART AND IDEAS THEY MAKE??? Im stunned by how quick they are able to make their art and STILL HAVE IT BE AMAZING QUAILTY?! Witch craft I tell you!

Shade and Mossy, two people I sadly dont talk to much anymore, but were apart of one of the most important parts of my life so far. Both were such positive lights that kept pushing even when they got pulled back by others. Idk if its their stubbornness or determination that keeps them going, but whatever they have, I want it!

#trippy talks #rambling about moots

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pinkroseblooms · 1 year ago

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Hippity-Hop into Your Heart

Summary: Usahara is all too happy to play the role of boyfriend so you can shake off a creep, but of course, the night ends with him developing an all too real crush. 4.1 k A/N: Art from Gaku Kaze! Usahara Tobikichi/F!Reader. I have a soft spot for this dumb bunny and I think he needs more love. Enjoy! TW: Stalking, cursing (mostly for reader getting called a b*tch by said stalker).

Usahara’s drunk. Again.

The night has hardly begun and he keeps slumping over the table, cheeks flushed and eyes bleary while he struggles to sit upright. “I wish I was funny.”

“I wish you were sober.” Uramichi slides another glass of water, moving aside the collection of empty shot glasses. “I thought we were only doing beer.”

“We should order motsu nikomi for him.” Kumatani suggests; he’s only on his third beer.

They did start a bit later than expected for a weeknight. There’s hardly anyone else at the tables around them; hopefully Usahara doesn’t end up getting them kicked out for disturbing the peace. A server comes around with their next round of beers and Kumatani speaks up to request more water while they look over their options for food.

“I want gyoza!” Usahara slurs. “And a girlfriend. Ugh. I really want a girlfriend.”

“You can have one of those things.” Kumatani glances at the paper menu. “Seeing as how gyoza’s on the menu and you’re a degenerate, let’s keep this based in reality.”

“I’m not a general!”

“Let’s leave him here.” Uramichi whispers, leaning over to Kumatani on his left. “He’ll pass out soon enough.”

“I’m drunk, not deaf.” Usahara grumbles; he sighs and sheds his jacket. “It’s hot. Can we get ice cream?”

“Why do you drink so much when you know you can’t handle booze?” Kumatani rests his chin on his hand. “If you think I’m paying your tab, you’ve got another thing-”

“Honey! There you are, sorry I’m late, I was stuck at the office.”

Usahara raises his head up; there’s a girl sliding into the booth seat next to him. For a split second, he thinks he might be having a hallucination, but you scoot closer and touch his arm with a strained smile. Not to mention Uramichi and Kumatani are also staring at him and you, visibly taken aback at this stranger joining their table, so Usahara is 100% positive the alcohol isn’t making him see things.

“I’m sorry.” You’re leaning in to whisper in his ear, still smiling but now your voice is considerably less cheerful. “A man’s been following me since I left my job.”

“What?” Usahara straightens up and stares at you, bewildered, trying to keep his tone low. “Did he come in?”

“He followed every time I changed directions.” You pretend to look at Uramichi and Kumatani but you’re actually sneaking a peek at the entrance. “He’s outside in the smoking area. I think he’s waiting.”

Usahara glances at the door; there is a man outside. It’s not easy to make his features out, but he can see him turn his head to look into the bar.

“I’m sorry to intrude.” You drop your fake smile. “This place is the closest building with people and I thought he would keep following me if I sat down by myself. Could I wait here until he leaves? I’ll pay for your next round.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Uramichi frowns. “Do you want to call the police?”

“No, I mean, what could they do?” You release your grip on Usahara’s arm and give him some space. “He could just say he’s going the same way as me. I just didn’t want him to know where I live.”

“I’m going out there.” Kumatani stands up.

“Oh please don’t!” You say hurriedly. “You really don’t have to get involved.”

“Scum like that need to have their asses kicked before they get the message. He looks weak.” Kumatani glares over at the door. “I’m not gonna be intimidated by some gross stalker.”

“But he could have a knife.” You say worriedly. “Even if he doesn’t, you’ll get in trouble for making things physical. Please, um…”

“Kumatani.” Usahara supplies. “He’s Kumatani, I’m Usahara, and that sad sack over there is Uramichi-”

“Kumantani, let’s use this drunk as a human shield.” Uramichi addresses the still standing Kumatani but his cold eyes are directly on Usahara’s. “If the creep has a knife, you’ll do your part as a concerned citizen, right?”

You glance around at the three of them. “Look, I already feel bad to bother you guys. I can get a ride; I doubt he’ll chase after a car, you know? I just,” you swallow hard; the last thing you want to do is start crying, not now in front of these strangers you had basically forced to be involved in this. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, okay?”

“Alright.” Kumatani finally takes his seat. “You’ve got a good point.”

“You must have been scared.” Uramichi looks at you with some sympathy. “I’m not eager to do any heroics myself and I don’t blame you for not wanting to stir the pot. How far away is your work?”

“About ten minutes. I work for a family, well, a few different families in the area.” You explain; your teeth have stopped chattering and your heart has stopped pounding. “I actually do babysitting and cleaning jobs. Today the parents went out for a date: they offered to drive me home, but they had a few drinks at dinner and I didn’t want to spend money on a ride share app when my place is so close. I actually come here every now and then to wind down after work…I didn’t think I’d be coming in tonight to escape that asshole.”

“Uh, so," Usahara clears his throat. “Why did you sit next to me? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Dude.”

“Are you serious?”

“What?” Usahara holds up his hands as if to block himself from the death glares being shot his way. “Just curious!”

“The seat next to you was empty.” You answer honestly. “Why else would I?”

“Because I’m…cute?” Usahara grins but it fades as you raise an eyebrow at him. “Sorry. Okay, no more joking: are you hungry? You might as well eat something, my treat.”

“I thought you were broke?” Kumatani snips. “I told you, I’m not covering your tab.” he turns to you. “Order what you want.”

“Ice cold.” Usahara crosses his arms. “I just so happen to have some extra funds. I helped my folks in their store earlier, so they floated me a few bucks.” he winks at you. “Since I’m playing your boyfriend, I should treat my girl to something nice.”

“You made your poor parents pay you for helping them?” Uramichi shakes his head somberly. “I didn’t think you could sink lower.”

“They insisted! I’m not gonna turn down money in this economy.”

“Don’t blame the economy for your piss poor spending habits.”

“They’re so mean.” Usahara pouts to you. “Aren’t you going to stand up for your boyfriend?”

You look at him for a moment before your face breaks out into a smile, a real one. Before you can stop, a laugh escapes you and you keep laughing until you start wheezing slightly.

“Wow, I think you broke her psyche.” Uramichi comments lightly.

“I’m so-sorry, really, I don’t mean to laugh at you!” Your voice cracks as you press your hands to your mouth. “Usahara? I’m sorry, you’ve all been so great to help me out.”

“I’m glad.” Usahara smiles bashfully, rubbing the back of his head; he realizes he must seem hilariously pathetic, but hey, it’s not like this is a real date. “If you’re laughing, it means you’re feeling better, yeah?”

Your giggles die off and you wipe your eyes. “I am.” with a deep sigh, you’re able to calm down and breathe normally. “I was really scared. Thank you. I feel better mostly.”

“You need a good laugh, I’m your guy.” Usahara hands you his untouched glass of water. “Here, it’s just plain water. Do you want a beer or something?”

“You know what? I could use a drink.” You confess tiredly. “So, what brings you guys here?”

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

Nearly two hours pass in the blink of an eye; Usahara plays his role well. He pours you drinks, stays close, but not too close to you, and even hand fed you a couple of snacks. To the casual observer, the four of you would never know you were all strangers.

Despite the cordial mood, Usahara kept up the charade, just in case the man outside was still lurking around, though they haven’t seen his profile in the window for some time now. It’s an unfortunate truth that some men will only back off if they know a girl already has a boyfriend who can potentially beat them up. Usahara, although not quite as intimidating looking in comparison to his friends, is the tallest and he does spend a good amount of time training on his own. He’s confident that if nothing else, all three of them are more than enough to take down one shady weirdo.

It’s too bad though. Usahara can't smother the twinge of bit guilt he feels at how much fun he’s having; there’s no need for him to put up a front or try to play it cool since this is very much not a date. There’s no pressure to look good in front of you, so Usahara can relax and not think about what he says too much or how he holds himself.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s awesome!” You tell him excitedly, hands grabbing onto his arm as if to shake sense into him. “An absolute classic, how the heck have you never heard of Killer Clowns from Another Dimension? Do you even watch movies?”

“Sometimes” Usahara sips a new glass of water you made him order. “I can’t believe you’re judging me.”

“I saw it.” Kumatani raises his hand. “The effects are next level.”

“A man of culture.” You give him a thumbs up. “This guy knows. Uramichi, make Usahara apologize.”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Uramichi drones. “I don’t get what any of you are saying.”

“Now who needs to watch more movies.”

“I saw one recently.” Uramichi cocks his head to the side. “It was a comedy; some idiot didn’t know when to stop running his mouth so his co worker buries him alive.”

“That’s a horror movie! If I go missing, you’re gonna be the first one the cops talk to.” Usahara clings to your arm. “Babe, tell him to leave me alone.”

“If you coddle him, he’ll never learn to shut his trap.”

“There, there, honey bunny.” You pat Usahara’s head lightly. “I promise to light a candle for you until they find the body.”

“You won’t even look for me?!”

“I think it’s more likely you’ll be disposed of by some loan sharks.” Kumatani deadpans but even he has a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Keep up the gambling and you’ll be found in a river instead of a shallow grave.”

“You guys are terrible and when I hit the jackpot none of you are seeing a cent.” Usahara tells them before leaning his head on your shoulder, sticking his tongue out at the both of them. “She’s been way nice to me and we only just met.”

“Because she doesn’t know how insufferable you are yet.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You glance down at Usahara as he gives you puppy eyes. “He’s doing a pretty good job of letting me know.”

“Babe, not cool.”

“Sorry, honey.” You giggle and poke his flushed cheek; it’s funny how comfortable you feel right now and you don’t think it’s because of the beers. Maybe it’s because Usahara has no filter; you were so tense before, yet now you’re joking and chatting like this was the plan, to show up and hang out with these odd characters. “So, what would you do if you won the lottery?”

“Hm…”

“You should pay your rent on time.” Uramichi remarks; he’s eating his own plate of mackerel, sashimi style. “It would be nice to never have to get up for work again.”

“I want to take time off and buy a boat.” Kumatani closes his eyes. “Just floating out to sea, nice and quiet, fresh saltwater air.”

“Lame.”

“Usahara.” You smack his shoulder lightly. “Knock it off.”

“Hey why are you defending that jerk?”

“This jerk is going to leave you to pay for all our food and drinks if you keep running your mouth.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” You shake your head somberly in disapproval as Usahara sulks. “Apologize or you’re sleeping on the couch, mister.”

“You sound more like a naggy wife than a cute girlfriend…”

“What’s that?”

“Sorry.” Usahara bows his head. “Sorry, Kumatani.”

“Good one.” Kumantani reaches over to refill your glass with a fresh pour of beer. “I’ll lend you the Man-Eating Salmon boxset if you can keep him quiet for the rest of the night.”

Usahara sips his water as you grin at Kumatani; oh well. He gets it. On paper, Kumatani makes sense: even he admits, it was pretty cool how Kumatani was going to go out there and take on that creep head on. It’s not Usahara’s style; he’s scared to get beat up and can barely throw a punch. Sue him. Still, it stings that even on this pretend date, Kumatani is still showing him up.

“Hey guys?” It’s Uramichi that breaks the silence. “I think that creep got tired of waiting.”

They all look to the door; it’s not clear at first, but from your shaken expression, it’s apparent the man who’s made his way inside the bar is the same one who was stalking you. The smile is gone from your face; he’s approaching the table with an almost apologetic smile. He looks like a fairly normal person, to Usahara’s slight surprise, not like a thug or anything. Hell, he looks more intimidating.

“Sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to get your number?”

“What?” You sink into your seat. “That’s why you followed me?”

“Followed? I didn’t do anything like that.” The man looks surprised. “I go here all the time. I just saw you, thought I’d shoot my shot, you know? Besides, I don’t need anyone’s permission to come inside and have a drink-”

“Excuse me, but we’re trying to have dinner.” Usahara stares at the man blankly. “We saw you out there. If you just came to eat here coincidentally, why were you lurking outside?”

“I wasn’t-”

“Cut the bullshit.” Kumatani glares at the man, grip tightening on his mug like he wants to smash it against the offending stranger’s head. “Get the hint already, asshole.”

“You’re making everyone uncomfortable.” A dark look crosses Uramichi’s face; he’s poised as though he’s about to rise from his chair. “I think you ought to leave. She’s not interested.”

“Let her tell me herself-”

“She shouldn’t have to talk to some freak hounding her in the dark.” Usahara takes his jacket and drapes it over your shaking shoulders; he puts his arm around you. “You’re bothering my girlfriend; who do you think you are? She doesn’t owe you shit.” he forces himself to temper his anger and speaks to you gently. “Don’t feel like you have to say anything, okay babe? You haven’t done anything; it’s not your fault this loser is bugging you.”

“Fuck you.” The man snaps, posture rigid; he’s shaking, but he doesn’t move any closer. “I didn’t do anything, this bitch-”

“Don’t call her that!” Usahara stands up, but doesn’t try to attack the man; he stands in front of you, arms out slightly to obscure you from the stranger’s eyes. “You can either get your ass handed to you by my buddies-”

“Really? What are we, you bodyguards?”

Usahara ignores Kumantani’s dry stare. “-or leave in handcuffs.” he makes sure you’re blocked from view. “Your choice.”

“Go to hell.”

But the confrontation ends there. With a sneer, the man storms out of the bar, rather quickly in fact; one of the staff members comes out from behind the counter with a concerned frown and asks if she needs to call the cops. Kumatani explains the situation and Uramichi actually goes himself to check if the man is just hiding around the corner of the bar. Usahara stays with you; despite how relieved you are, tears come to your eyes, dripping down your face.

“It’s okay.” Usahara hands you some napkins. “Do you need these?”

“Thank you.” You sniff and blow your nose into the offered napkins, but the tears aren’t stopping. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t even tell that asshole off, it was like I couldn’t even speak. I feel so dumb for being scared.”

“Not gonna lie, I was kinda scared too; Uramichi still has him beat in the dead eyed stare competition though.” Usahara chuckles; he tentatively holds one of your hands; your palm is clammy and your fingers are cold. “Sorry you had to go through that. I really thought he had left; I think the owner’s gonna call the cops anyway, dude seemed unhinged.”

“Oh, your jacket,”

“You can hold onto it. Your hand’s freezing.” Usahara ignores the slight chill he feels as you squeeze his hand. “You want me to get you a hot tea or something? Sorry, I have no clue what to do for these kinds of situations.”

“You’ve done more than enough.” You smile at him; your cheeks and eyes are red and puffy. “Thank you; the only reason I was able to feel okay at all is because of you guys being so kind. I’m so sorry for all this.”

Usahara feels bad for your gratitude; he’s also angry. He’s half tempted to go outside himself and chase after that creep, but more than that, he could cry himself from how sad you look, how you actually felt like you had to apologize for someone else's horrible actions.

“Don’t apologize. Hell, I didn’t do anything.” Usahara has to stop himself from trapping you in a big bear (bunny?) hug. “Look, do you want one of us to take you home? It’s past midnight and sometimes you get creepy drivers on that app if you request a ride this late at night.” Usahara averts his eyes to the table, trying to sound assuring despite the pit forming in his stomach. “Kumatani seems grumpy, but you won’t find anyone more reliable and Uramichi is a decent guy, even if he mopes a lot. They’ll keep you safe on your way home.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

You look nervous. “I trust you…of course, you’ve already helped me so much. I can walk home alone, I’ll pretend to be on the phone.”

“No, not at all!” Usahara scrambles to talk. “I’d be totally okay walking you home! Just leave it to Tobikichi Usahara, you won’t have anything to worry about!”

“Are you trying a stand up routine?” Uramichi reenters the booth, unmoved by Usahara’s objections. “Anyway, I think he’s really gone this time, but the owner’s still going to call the police and have them take a look around. I guess this isn’t the first time they’ve had a problem, she’s pretty sure it’s the same guy too. With any luck, he won’t be bothering anyone again.”

“I hope so.” You wipe your eyes. “Thank you, Uramichi; where’s Kumatani?”

“Settling your tab.”

“What?!” You gap at him, almost expecting this to be a joke. “That’s way too much, I was going to pay for you guys-”

“Give it a rest.”

“Uramichi!” Usahara is scandalized. “This is why girls don’t talk to you.Would it kill you to show a little tact? She's upset.”

“Are you seriously telling me that? Who asked you anyway? Look, I’m just saying, it’s no trouble.” Uramichi’s eyes soften a smidge as he looks at you. “Don’t get me wrong, I really hope this never happens again, but tonight was almost fun.”

Kumatani approaches the table, tucking away what you assume is a receipt in his wallet. “Let’s finish up and call it a night: Usahara, you owe me half the tab.”

“Saw that coming.” Usahara shrugs and manages a weak smile. “Fair enough; but I’m only paying for her and my stuff.”

“Okay.” Kumatani chuckles. “I expected you to put up a fuss like usual. We should invite your girlfriend out every time we get drinks.”

“Dude!” Usahara’s already flushed face turns bright red. “Jokes on you, I’m never inviting you guys out with us.” he sends you a lopsided grin. “If I win the jackpot, it’ll be dinner for two, wherever you want to eat.”

“Actually,” You fiddle with the sleeve of his jacket. “I was hoping we could all do this again sometime; you know, without the looming threat of being stalked. Is that weird?”

“You want to put up with us again?” Kumatani asks, but you can tell he’s mostly teasing.

“I guess.” Uramichi concedes. “It’s nice to have a buffer.”

“Buffer? What, so you can ignore me and get drunk in peace?” Usahara sighs dramatically. “Well, that’s fine with me; having another person around makes your mood swings less stressful-ow, ow, ow! I’m sorry, I give up, you’re not moody!”

Uramichi stops grinding his fists on either side of Usahara’s temples. “Just take her home already and try not to fall over in the street.”

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

“So, that’s us.” Usahara laughs somewhat embarrassed. “Did you really have fun tonight?”

“Yeah.” You say honestly; you’re leading the way to your apartment, walking slow. “You’re looking pale; do you always drink that much?”

“....yeah…” Usahara admits reluctantly. “I know, I know, I’m a mess.”

“Without a doubt.”

“So mean…”

“But you’re very nice.” You offer him with a half smile. “And brave.”

“Me?”

“Uh huh.”

Usahara stares at you from the corner of his eye; the street lights overhead shine a dim glow on your hair and face. You’re still wearing his smelly old jacket, a grease stain on the front from dropping fried chicken on himself the other day. It looks better on you.

“Uh oh.” Usahara could slap himself. “Dude, not cool. She’s been through enough tonight. You were pretending so she could feel safe. It’s not like she actually wants to date you. Don’t let yourself get caught up in the moment. She’s a nice girl who needed your help and as it stands, she doesn’t think you’re a complete loser. Let’s keep it that way and call this a win.”

“This is me.” You come to a stop in front of a complex Usahara has gone past quite a few times before. “I’d invite you in for tea, but I should be going to bed. Can I give you my number? If you want to hang out again sometime.”

“Sure thing.” Usahara switches phones with you. “Call, text, whatever; let me know when you’re free.”

“I’ll do that.” You nod and hand him back his cellphone. “Wait, don’t go yet.”

Usahara was about to leave. “Is everything alright? I can wait until you get inside to-”

“You’re sweet.” You take off his jacket, putting it around his shoulders; you peck his jaw, not quite able to reach his cheek. “Next time, maybe we can go on a real date?”

“Am I passed out at the bar?” Usahara touches the spot where you had pressed your soft lips against his skin. “Sorry, let me get this straight: you want to see me again? Me, Usahara, specifically? For a date? Like a ‘date-date’?” he frowns, examines your face carefully. “Are you drunk? I don’t want to take advantage, I mean, you might have second thoughts later, which is totally okay, I-I don’t mind just being friends-!”

“I am a bit tipsy, but I don’t think that’s affecting anything.” You smile a little. “Maybe you should text me first thing in the morning? Just to make sure.”

“I’ll probably be super hungover.” Usahara looks at you like you’re too good to be real. “I usually go to this breakfast place, if you’re interested. It’s a cheap spot but the food’s good. Sorry, I-”

“Are you treating?”

“Yes! And I’ll pick you up?” Usahara is on pins and needles, utterly failing to reign in his excitement. “I have a spare helmet, if you don’t mind riding on a motorcycle. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“It’s a date.” You start to walk away. “Tell the guys I said thank you, again. Do you think they’ll want to get breakfast too?”

“NO!” Usahara hates how his voice pitches so high in panic; he looks down at the ground, a little ashamed of himself, but not enough to be unselfish. He really is shameless. “At least for this time, I want it to be just us. You can see for yourself if I’m worth your time; I swear, you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m holding you to that.” You smile playfully. “Honey bunny.”

Usahara blushes so much he thinks his face might be on fire, waving in a daze as you disappear into your apartment.

“Oh crap." It almost hurts how hard Usahara's smiling as he thinks about seeing you again. "I'm so screwed.”

#usahara tobikichi #usahara tobikichi x reader #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #ao3 fanfic #uramichi oniisan #life lessons with uramichi oniisan #big brother uramichi #uramichi omota #kumatani mitsuo #fluff #slight angst #one shot #meet cute

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matriarchjojo · 2 years ago

Text

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐎.

KOKONOI + BIMBO!READER ‧₊˚⊹

18+, chubby!reader, friends to fwb, oral, public sex, praise, rich ass reader and koko, mutual pining, fucked out koko, (kind of) inexperienced koko, softdom!reader + sub!kokonoi, use of 'good boy' and 'mistress', mentions of bdsm and pegging,

You and your bestie koko just went shopping together and were now on your way, driving home in a limo, and.. you suggest sucking his dick.

All chars are over 18 ⊹ reader's skin color is not mentioned ⊹ mdni

The two of you were just coming out of dior after buying some heels and earrings, right on your way to Koko's limo. The driver was already waiting for you two. "And after he talked all that shit i said 'with that outfit?'" He told you about some stories back when he was part of a gang, and you two laughed. "That's so like you!" You giggled. "I wish I would have been there, ugh.."

you said as you got into the back of the car with the nice golden lighting and expensive champagne. Koko watched you get in, and as you turned your head, his gaze was very obviously on your ass.

Once he noticed you looked at him, he quickly looked away, and you had a knowing grin on your face before sitting down on the seats.

"So..we're going home?" You asked, you already knew the answer. "Yes."

All you two did was get dressed nicely to go shopping and then just sit at Koko's huge nice couch and watch movies from 1990 to the 2000s. You would watch for hours.. until it was pitch black outside and koko either let you sleep there or he would drive you home.

"Oh, koko! Do you remember that guy I mentioned I liked?" Koko remembered. He hated him.

He pretended to be this cultured man who liked art, fancy music, and all that shit.. but koko knew exactly he was just trying to impress you. He hated those fucking men, "sadly i do.." no man you ever brought up was ever good enough for you in kokos opinion.

You rolled your eyes with a grin "anyways..he invited me to a party in some fancy villa," you explained, and koko sipped on the champagne, rolling his eyes "mhm.."

"I won't go."

He didn't expect you to say that..he expected you to go and let this limp dicked fucker fuck you and leave you unsatisfied. Like every guy you wrnt on a date with..

He would never ever say this but..he could definitely make you cum so hard you'd go blind

"Ohoho~" he purred all cocky "you'll just let that amazing man go, huh?" You laughed and softly hit his upper arm with the back of your hand."I just don't wanna hear him talk anymore! God!" Koko looked at you with the most cockiest grin."Are you saying that... I was right?" He fake gasped, and you bitterly grinned at him in return "no I'm not saying that." You said.

"It's just that I just wanna be with you today," koko couldn't help but feel his heart soften a little bit. "It's way more fun to be with my best friends than with some boring fuck boy" and just like that you let his heart down again. Of course, koko loved you as a friend. In fact, he would say he enjoyed being around you more than anyone else actually. But he couldn’t help but think about 'what if'

What if he kissed you?

What if he told you he'd treat you better than anyone else ever did?

What if he told you that he'd eat you out?

What if you two were more than friends?

But he's afraid that if he did all of the above, he would lose you. And he didn't wanna risk it. Even though the way you looked at him most of the time was more than a friendly look.

"Well, that sounds perfect because I was planning on the same thing," koko said as he took a sip of his champagne with raised eyebrows. You smiled at him and then looked away to bite your bottom lip.

That's it.

That's what he meant.

Now it was dead quiet again, and there was sexual tension, it was making the air in the limousine feel stuffy. So koko just side eyed you while looking you up and down, from your cleavage that he could see through your open white button down dior shirt and the VS black bra, down to your chubby tummy that was visible through your tight and long black Mugler pencil skirt to your soft and squishy thighs wrapped in nice black back seam tights. And those beautiful red bottom Louboutins, he actually bought them for you on your birthday.

You noticed koko watching you. He always thought you didn't notice, but you obviously did. Truth be told..

You wanted to be more than friends with him.

Especially since there was always a quiet pause between you two where you could feel the sexual tension. And you were afraid that if you didn't fuck at least once..you two could drive away from eachother..

And that stare was the last straw for you. You just had to turn to him. You got a little closer than normal and said a little. "Hey." Like you were asking something. And it obviously took koko off guard. "H-hey?" He asked, confused and flustered. You were bending your upper body a bit, giving him an even better view of your tits and the pretty bra. It was making him feel hot all of a sudden.

"Can I ask you something weird?" You whispered, still leaning over to him, so close that he could smell the alcohol on your tongue. "Sure, go ahead, I guess.." he responded, still confused and filled with anticipation, deep down he hoped that you would ask him to fuck you. "Okay.." you said, taking another sip of your drink before asking.

"Have you ever thought about me sucking you off?"

Koko's grip on his glass, and the leather seats tightened that he almost ripped a hole into the expensive fabric. He was quiet for a second, knowing his face looked like he was lacking oxygen. Because he was. He didn't notice he was holding in his breath until he decided to laugh it off out of nervousness he wasnt good with women or even men. He's just a little awkward when it comes to intimacy, even when he really, really wants it. Like right now. "What??"

But as he laughed and you just kept smiling at him with that 'fuck me' look in your eyes, his palms started to get sweaty. "You know what I asked. C'mon, " you said, clearly. You knew you didn't need to repeat it. "Have you?"

Koko didn't know if this was one of your weird teasing jokes..if he said the wrong thing he'd be fucked. Not in the way he wants to be anyway..

"Uhm.." he laughed again nervously. "Is this a joke?" He asked with a suspicious expression. He wanted to be sure.

You just quietly shook your head. "No, I'm just curious." You said with an unreadable smile. Koko hated when he couldn't tell what other people were thinking. Especially when he couldn't tell what you were thinking.

Koko swallowed and looked to the side nervously until your voice made him look at you again "then I'll tell you something first.."

"I thought about it." You said boldly.

That line definitely stopped kokos heart for a second. He started shaking and sweating.

Right after you said it, you closed the small window that let the driver see you two. Koko started breathing a little heavier. Are you actually trying to suck his dick??

"And?" You started, "What about you?"

Koko actually started to relax a bit hearing you confess. Having closure is all he needed to gain a little confidence. He felt your long nails trace his thigh over his dress pants, drawing dangerously close to his crotch.

He gulped and looked from his lap back up at you, being almost on his lap.

"Yeah.." he responded. "I did."

A smirk started stretching your pretty and lipgloss covered lips. "Want me to do it?" You asked, just above a whisper. Staring at koko like his dick was already between your lips.

Fuck he was sweating so much now, of course he wants it! But he just couldn't get any words out.

He coughed and nodded with closed eyes. "I need a verbal answer." You said, tracing your middle finger over the big golden chanel belt buckle. "S-sure—yes! Please.." he stuttered.

You smiled and kissed your best friend on the cheek, and he let out a frustrated and needy sigh. You've never seen koko being flustered. You only knew him being cocky, confident, and...cunty. so seeing him being so stuttery and nervous is refreshing.

Once you put your hand on his buckle, starting to unbuckle it while placing wet and sticky kisses on the sensitive skin of kokos neck. He surprisingly let out little moans and sighs.

The belt was open, and you unzipped his pants, wasting no time to slide your hand into his pants and boxers, immediately you found his hard cock. You gasped softly at the warmth, hardness, and most of all: lenght.

You never actually saw each other naked. Ever. He only saw you when you wanted to try on your new Victoria secret underwear, and that was also the only thing koko ever jerked off to. He never wanted to think of it, but his own mind betrayed him every time.

"Fuck—that feels..really fuckin' good.." he huffed, you barely even stroked him, but you weren't judging..you know he hadn't had a date since last year January when he met a cute guy at a party..and it was March now.

You continued stroking him as you pressed your tits against his chest. You looked up at Koko's face to see him already flushed a pretty deep pink. You wanted to kiss him until he couldn't even breathe properly. But you weren't sure if this was something he wanted as he could find kissing too romantic. "Wanna kiss?" Koko chuckled in response before just kissing you. It didn't even start of slow, because neither of you wanted that.

You just wanted to feel eachothers warmth. While kissing, you started pulling his pants now to his ankles, breaking the kiss in the process and lowering yourself along with the pants.

You put your hand on his chest to make him lean back into the leather seat while you kissed his bare thigh as his cock was right next to your face.

Finally seeing you like this was more than satisfying to koko, it was all he fucking wanted all this time. "You look so fuckin' beautiful.." you smiled but said nothing back, you just wanted his long and pretty cock in your throat.

As soon as you started kissing up his cock he tipped his head back "shit—oh my fucking.." he trailed off as he started moaning. His moans were pure music to your ears, and it just egged you on to suck the soul out of him.

You put your lips on the tip of his cock and he started twitching, "o-oh fuck—" he cursed again. You found it so cute how he already mindlessly babbled. You darted your tongue out and sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth with your tongue flat on the backside of his cock. You then slowly, slowly lowered your mouth on his cock until you reached his balls and his tip was in the back of your throat.

Koko felt like he was gonna faint, his hips stayed flexed, and an inch above the limo seat. His hand was in your hair involuntarily, he just needed to hold onto something or he would lose his fucking mind.

Then, all of a sudden you started to Bob your head up and down on his throbbing cock, making koko slap his hand infront of his mouth to cover up his loud and pathetic moans. But it was no use, and he knew it, but it was more so that the driver couldn't hear what a horny slut kokonoi Hajime was.

"Mhpff!—" he moaned against his hand. He had already started to drool against it. He was disgusting, but he felt good, free even. Giving you full control over him made him feel at ease, koko did have a busy life where he had to control everything, but having someone control him and his pleasure made him feel relaxed.

"Good boy.." you hummed before you started to stuff his long cock back into your throat. Kokos' eyes widened, and he scratched at the seat. At this point the didn't give a single fuck about the expensive leather because what you just called flipped a switch in his brain and he just moved his hand from his mouth, it was all shiny from his own spit

"m-may I—shit!.." he began. "may I call you mistress?" He asked, and suddenly you felt yourself getting to the point of being as horny as koko.. you truly did not expect this.. and you think neither would have koko.

You pulled off of his pulsing cock to look up at him and use your middlefinger to wipe away some if his precum from your lips. You would die to have him call you that, and you would kill to have him as your slut.

"You may.." you said with a sultry smile as you continued to jerk him off. "Tha-thank you.." then you squeezed his cock as a warning "who are you thanking?" You asked as you stopped jerking him off and just having a tight grip on him, before he could correct himself you got lower and started sucking one of his balls into your mouth. Making Koko's head fly back onto the seat rest and his eyes roll back. "I—" he struggled to catch his breath and choked on his spit for a second. "Thank you, mistress!"

"There we go.. Remember that for next time, " you said with a knowing smirk. Koko looked back at you, and you saw that he already had small tears in the corners of his eyes. He looked so cute..

Koko bit his bottom lip to stiffle his breathless moans. "Y-yes..Mistress," his mind went racing at the thought of a next time... God, he wanted you to do horrible things to him. He wanted to see you in a matching latex bra and thong set. He wanted you to tie and gag him. He wanted you to just fucking use him. Peg him! Ride his face 'til he can't breathe! He will fucking beg for it! The once reserved and cocky koko was now nothing more than a desperate slut.

As you continued to suck on his cock your other hand went up to feel up his chest to then reach his lips, koko immediately just started sucking on them as if it was in his DNA to obey you.

Koko grabbed your hand and swirled his tongue around your digits as your head kept bobbing up and down, koko pressed his hips up from the seat, and his eyes rolled back behind his closed eyes as he started sucking your fingers more desperately.

The feeling of him throbbing and twitching in your throat while his wet and warm tongue swirled around your manicured fingers made you so wet, you knew that your tights were also soaked through. You've never felt as horny as you did in the very moment. The rush of sucking your friends dick in a moving vehicle, not knowing if the driver can hear you. and the fact that koko would literally whore himself out for you,

"M-mhh!—" he moaned loudly around your fingers. He was about to cum..and youwere going to swallow every single drop.

Koko shivered and thrashed around. His grip on your hand tightened as his hips started to rit back into your throat. You hollowed your cheeks, and koko suddenly came with choked and loud moans. With every moan, he started to relax more and more.

The bitter and salty cum shot into your mouth and you moaned at the taste of his hot cum, it drove you wild..

Koko sighed one last time, and you took your fingers out of his mouth. He looked down at you, hair messy, lip makeup smeared with spit and cum.

His mind was so clouded by lust and the after shock of a life changing orgasm that he didn't realize where his cum was. Until he heard a gulp, and you licked your lips. "fuck—did you just..swallow it?.." he asked and you just got up to lay your chest on his and he winced a bit at his cock meeting your skirt.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your kissed him, his tongue swirled around yours and he sighed at the taste of champagne and his cum.

You then looked at him with a soft smile. "You did good.." You kissed him again. "Y-you did good..you did really good.." koko complimented you back.

After a few seconds of just staring after each other, koko asked "so..you said next time.."

You grinned and picked out a long, pretty strand of his hair to swirl it around your finger. "Yeah, I did.. Would you like that?" Koko blinked away some of the remaining tears and nodded "yeah..sure.."

"Then how about you return the favor while we watch movies?" Koko's eyes widened assist cock twitched slightly against you, it's crazy how he's still hard..this never happened before. "Y-yeah,I'd love to," you jokingly hit him on his arm. "Don't go soft on me now. On the way home, we'll still only be besties, alright?" You said while sitting up and wiping your skirt and face clean with some tissues you had in your black dior purse, you handed some to koko and as he wiped his cock clean, you took a tissue and wiped his face clean.

It took him by surprise. He looked up at you, and you smiled. "You still have so much spit and lipgloss on your face, hun"

After you two were done wiping everything, you straightened your clothes out, and you sat back down next to him. If you didn't know that, you just sucked the soul out of his dick. It would look like you two were just friends.

But then you put your hand on his thigh,

You two knew his couch would need to be replaced after fucking it up with multiple cum, sweat and saliva stains.

#—☆ jojo writes‧₊˚#koko smut #kokonoi hajime smut #koko hajime smut #tr smut #tokyo revengers smut #chubby!reader #bimbo!reader

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