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justagalwhowrites · 2 months ago

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The Savage and the Sanctuary: Ch. 9 - Starlight

You officially become Starlight and Joel reckons with your life in the spotlight. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 8 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Canon-typical violence; panic attack/PTSD response; attempted kidnapping. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 12k

“You sure this is a good idea?” Joel asked, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight as he watched you from across the small room.

“Joel,” you looked at him, almost amused, from your spot on the couch. “What do you think they’re going to do? Delay the casting announcement that’s been planned for months for a movie with a $210 million price tag because I want a personal day?”

“You’re the fuckin’ star,” he said. “So… yeah.”

You pressed your lips together, stifling a laugh.

“It really doesn’t work that way,” you said. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Yeah, well,” Joel grumbled, turning to the craft services table that had been set up in your green room. “Maybe it should.”

He got a plate and piled it with a small sandwich, slices of cucumber, baby carrots and celery before spooning hummus onto it and grabbing a can of Diet Coke, which made you frown. You’d never once seen him drink Diet Coke.

But he didn’t go to drink it himself. Instead, he closed the short distance between you, handing you the plate before opening the soda and setting the can down almost forcefully on the table beside you.

You frowned, looking up at him, brows raised.

“You’re not puttin’ on that damn suit,” he said, nodding to the plate. “And I was awake before you, I know you ain’t eaten anything today.”

You resisted the urge to smile but felt your lips tugging up at the edges all the same.

“You like me,” you teased. He rolled his eyes. “Look at you, getting invested.”

“Just been around you too much,” he muttered but he smiled ever so slightly, too. “Bound to stick eventually.”

You let yourself smile fully then, taking a bite of the sandwich as Joel shook his head, clearly trying to not look happy about anything at all.

Something had changed in your relationship with Joel the day before. You could almost feel it happen, the shock of connection and understanding when you’d asked him to break into Henry’s office and he’d just done it. He didn’t question it, he didn’t even hesitate, he just busted the man’s door down and protected you in the aftermath. The way he’d touched you in the elevator, the way he still looked at you like you were a person after you told him about the shit you were most ashamed of, it felt like he cared about you. Not the strange version of yourself you made for the world but the real you and it was the first time it seemed like someone who wasn’t Justice or Elise or Ellie or Anna had done that in so, so long. What’s more, he made you feel like you were worth caring about. Like there was something inside you, something about you, that was worth the effort. That feeling made your heart beat faster and your head get light and you knew that was stupid, that you should avoid feeling like that about your bodyguard as much as you could but you couldn’t resist it. It felt too good, caring about him and knowing that he cared about you, too.

He had gotten up before you that morning. You found him in the kitchen when you forced yourself to get up, skipping your usual morning workout because - although you’d slept well and hadn’t shot anything the day before and it had been a short day - you were exhausted. It was a sort of tired that had settled heavily into your body, weighing down your limbs and fogging your mind. You more trudged through the house than walked, not able to fully pick your feet up. But you were surprised to find coffee ready made and waiting for you when you got to the kitchen, Joel sitting at the breakfast bar with a mug in front of him.

“Morning,” he said, watching you.

You froze, blinking at him for a second.

“Morning,” you said back, your tongue thick in your mouth.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, looking you up and down but not in the way so many men did, not like he wanted to break you down and consume you.

You shrugged.

“Fine,” you said before pulling your gaze from him and going to pour yourself a cup of coffee. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just…” he paused. “Seemed like you might not be. After… you know.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what to say to that. You took a sip of coffee. “Well… I still have a convention to get to.”

“That a good idea?” He asked, frowning, watching you.

You watched him back for a moment, something so unsettlingly honest about how he was looking at you.

“Maybe not,” you said after a moment. “But you gotta do what you gotta do, right?”

He kept watching you, like he thought you might take it back and maybe that was because you wanted to, his jaw clenched, before he sighed.

“Shit goes sideways, we leave,” he said. “And I don’t just mean some jackass tries to break your arm again, I mean if you have a panic attack or that… that fuckin’ asshole shows up, we go. We clear?”

“You can’t just try to whisk me away from all my problems,” you said, smiling a little sadly.

“I know,” he said, open and almost vulnerable. “I know you can handle yourself and lord knows you know this world a hell of a lot better than I do. But I’m trying to keep you safe. You said you’d let me keep you safe. You gonna let me?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Yeah, I’ll let you.”

He’d stuck close to you all day. You heard him pacing the hall outside your room as you put on the outfit that Frank had selected for you. He took a break to let your hair and makeup artist, Caroline, in but he took back up pacing not long after.

“He’s an anxious one, isn't he?” She said as she blended your eyeshadow. “That’s a change from the last guy, right?”

“He’s the same one I had last time,” you said.

“Really?” She said, stepping back enough that you opened your eyes to look at her and you looked at her, incredulous. “Well shit, never would have guessed.”

He was waiting there outside your door in a pair of dark jeans and a button down and you gasped in mock surprise.

“Look at you!” You swatted him playfully on the arm. “You got dressed up!”

He rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Before you find some new way to drive me insane.”

“It’d be a short trip,” you smirked before leading the way to the car, Joel close enough that he kept his hand on the small of your back the whole way.

He was tense as they slipped you into the convention hall, bringing you in a side door under a tent that enveloped everything, protecting the secret of your identity for another few hours.

“You know you can’t come on stage with me, right?” you said, smiling a little but trying to hide it as you ate one of the carrots Joel had put on your plate.

“Oh I’m well aware,” he muttered. “You know, I keep waitin’ for these producers and managers and… other assholes to figure out that you’re not just some profit center but you’d think they’d have realized by now that they can’t make money off you if you’re hurt or dead. Can make fuckin’ movies but can’t manage to understand basic shit…”

There was a knock at your door and Joel clenched his jaw before going to answer it. Quinn didn’t wait for him to fully step aside, pushing past him and looking a little frazzled.

“We ready?” She asked, looking you up and down before narrowing her eyes at you. “Are you eating? And drinking from a can without a straw? You’re wearing lipstick! Jesus Christ…”

She started looking around, as though she might find some stray tube of lip color lying around but you just laughed a little, dabbing your mouth with your napkin and going into the small bag you’d brought with you to touch up your lipstick.

“There,” you said, putting the tube away again. “See? No harm, no foul.”

“And now she won’t pass out on stage,” Joel muttered. “Let’s go, sooner they trot you out like some show pony the sooner we can get you back home.”

You just shook your head and smiled a little, following behind Quinn, a small army of assistants waiting outside your door and Joel staying so close to you that you could could feel the heat of his body alongside yours all the way to the stage.

Cole met you there, waiting in the wings, and you greeted him with a hug.

“You ready for this?” You asked quietly. “Because our lives are about to change.”

“Think mine more than yours,” he smiled, a little sheepishly. “Everyone already knows your name. This is the first time I’m doing something this big. Feels a little like I’m about to… I don’t fucking know, go BASE jumping or something.”

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath. “As long as you’ve got a good parachute.”

You looked toward Joel in spite of yourself, his jaw clenched as his eyes raked again and again over the surrounding area. You leaned closer to him.

“And of course where would we be without a man worthy of our hero?” The emcee said. You looked at Cole and he looked back before taking a deep breath. “Introducing your Devin Hancock - Cole Cox!”

Cole ran out on stage, his arms above his head and you watched him soak up the applause, waving out at the audience that you couldn’t see beyond the stage lights.

“Finally,” the emcee said as the crowd quieted down. “The moment we’ve all been waiting for, the one I’ve been most excited for. Are you ready to meet our intergalactic heroine? The one, the only, Starlight?”

The screams were deafening and the lights cut out, replaced by the glow of the massive screen behind the stage. You had to crane your neck to see it from where you stood but it was what you’d shot a few days earlier, the slow pans down your body, keeping your face hidden, the frantic fight sequences that kept your identity just out of sight and then a bright, blue-tinged glow before a close up of you, smirking confidently in your suit and hair and makeup, took over the screen, Starlight in an arch over your head, your name written below as the emcee announced you, the roar of screaming and cheering drowning him out almost entirely.

You ran out to join him on stage, hands up over your head and waving to the convention hall packed with people.

It took what felt like a small eternity for things to quiet down enough for you to even talk, the emcee giving you a mic and you just standing there with it as you waved for long enough that you started to get tired of holding your unoccupied hand so far over your head.

“Thank you all for that very warm welcome!” You laughed when things got quiet eventually. “I really could not be happier to join the Galactic Comics Cinematic Universe.”

You took your seat next to Cole, demurely crossing one ankle over the other (even though you were in jeans) and nodding as you listened to the director talk about the movie and the lengths they went through to keep your identity under wraps. The emcee threw a few softball questions your way and you gave the other people on stage a chance to shine before the audience questions began because you knew most of their questions would be directed at you.

You were right, the first question out of the gate was directed at you.

“Huge fan,” the guy asking it said, smiling sheepishly at you. “But I don’t think I’d ever see you in something like this. Why’d you decide to play this role?”

“Well,” you smiled back at him and you saw the blush rise in his cheeks. “I’ve always been drawn to stories about powerful women, I’ve always liked telling those stories and exploring the lives of those women and what better way to do it than tell the story of a superhero, right? Especially one who starts out as a doctor. And…”

You took a deep breath. You’d debated about including this or not but, fuck it, if the world knew about Ellie anyway, why not?

“And as some of you might know, I’m in the process of adopting my niece and Savage Starlight is her favorite comic. When I found out about the opportunity to be her favorite hero, I jumped at that. She didn’t know about this in advance, by the way, so she’s finding out about this role at the same time you all are by watching the live stream at home - hi Ellie!” You waved to the camera that was broadcasting live online. “I hope you’re behaving for your grandma, I really don’t want one of the first things I do as Dr. Daniela Star to be ground you.”

The audience laughed and you smiled at that, this strange warmth settling inside you as the next person came up to the mic and you found yourself looking over at Joel, a little smile on his face as he watched you in return. You’d never shared something like that about yourself to press or at an event. You weren’t sure why, but for some reason, you felt comfortable being more yourself, offering that small vulnerability and piece of humanity up to these strangers.

Time passed quickly there on stage and, before too long, you were making your way off stage, happy that you weren’t miked anymore and you felt like you could breathe a little.

“That was surreal,” Cole said, nearly yelling in your ear to be heard over the crowd, staying close to you as the two of you headed off stage, Joel watching from the wings, his eyes sweeping the stage as you did.

“But cool!” You said back, smiling at him before turning a little to wave one last time at the crowd.

You were so distracted by the crowd and the noise and blinded by the stage lights, you almost didn’t see Joel running for you.

***

It happened so fast, he almost fucking missed it.

You were almost off stage - almost next to him again - and he had almost relaxed. You were close and you were so beautiful and looked so happy and it was easy to just look at you, the temptation to just watch you instead of looking anywhere else so easy to fall into.

But then he saw it, someone shoving off event security and scrambling onto the stage. He barely noticed it, the person almost entirely blocked from his view by you and your costar.

He moved quickly then, event security chasing after the man as he went for you. You noticed him half a second before he reached you, your smile dropping and your eyes going wide.

“Move!” Joel grabbed you, tucking your head down and putting his body between you and the person who was inches away from being tackled by security. He rushed you off stage all the same, not about to trust security to suddenly do their jobs properly.

He got you off stage quickly, casting a glance back over his shoulder to see two security guards take the man down. Joel kept moving with you, rushing you through the maze of back stage and back to your green room. He slammed the door shut and released you, taking your face in his hands and looking you up and down.

“You OK?” He asked, breathless.

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, your hands covering his, your fingers soft and soothing against his own. “I’m OK, it’s OK.”

“Fuck,” he said, pulling you against him before he thought better of it, clutching onto you and focusing on the feeling of your chest rising and falling as he held you close. Your arms slowly, cautiously went around him, too, your hold gentler than his own except for your fingers which knotted in his shirt and pressed into his back. His heartbeat finally slowed, your body a comfort against his own, and his grip on you eased. You pulled back from him but didn’t go far, still in his arms, still close enough that he could feel when you breathed. You looked at him, your eyes wide, lips parted and, for half a moment, he thought you might kiss him and he wanted you to. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t kiss you, he wanted to. The fact that you were his charge, that you were so far above him you weren’t even in the same galaxy let alone the same league, that he was in no position to let anyone close to him at all didn’t matter. All that mattered was your lips and skin and the way you felt against him.

Your eyes traced over his face then stilled at his temple and you frowned, reaching your hand up, delicately tracing the scar there with one finger, your touch so gentle it was more like a ghost than anything corporeal.

“Joel,” you whispered, your palm finding his cheek but your finger lingering on the scar. His heart stuttered.

The sharp knock on the green room door made you jump and he pulled you closer for a moment before maneuvering you behind him.

“It’s me!” Quinn called through the door. “Let me in!”

“Stay put,” Joel said sharply, going for the door and only opening it a crack, confirming it was just Quinn there before opening it just enough to let her in and then locking it again.

Your manager rushed over to you, looking you up and down before taking you by the shoulders.

“You’re OK?” She asked quickly.

“I’m fine,” you said, smiling a little at her. “It wasn’t a big deal, really.”

Joel stalked over, trying to put himself between you and Quinn as best he could without physically moving her. He’d never put hands on a woman, he didn’t want to start now.

“When are you people gonna learn that this shit is a risk?” He growled, letting himself tower over Quinn. “That it’s not fuckin’ worth it? That you’re gonna get her hurt or worse because someone else needs something more from her?”

“Joel,” you quietly, your hand curling around his bicep, but he shrugged you off.

“She is not some goddamn toy!” Joel snapped. “So stop parading her around like some fuckin’ Barbie before someone does more than break her fucking arm!”

“She’s my client!” Quinn snapped back. “And my friend and I’ve been looking out for her a hell of a lot longer than you have so if you think for one second that she matters more to you than she does to me…”

“She is right here, in case either of you were wondering,” you said, voice sharp.

Joel and Quinn both turned to face you and, beyond your eyes being wider than he was used to seeing, you looked like yourself. Your jaw was set firm, your back straight, daring either of them to push you.

“Last time I checked, I’m a grown woman who is perfectly capable of making her own choices,” you said, looking between the two of them. “Joel, I’m fine. Nothing happened. Security took down… whoever that was and you protected me. The system worked. Quinn, cut Joel some slack. He’s still new to this industry, he doesn’t understand how shit works here and… he’s right. Events are a risk. They’re just also necessary.”

Joel clenched his jaw, tightened his fist. He wasn’t going to win this fight, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

“There is a piece of good news,” Quinn sighed, changing the subject. “The guy who rushed the stage was looking to talk to the director, some super fan. Had his last movie on BluRay in his bag, looks like he’s a film student at UCLA.”

“Jesus,” Joel pinched the bridge of his nose. “People can’t just be fuckin’ normal about this shit? Have to be rushing the goddamn stage, camping out at premieres…”

“People care,” Quinn said, a little edge in her tone. “It might be a little intense but…”

“Yeah,” Joel cut her off. “That’s the problem, ain’t it.”

Joel got you out of there without any further incident, bypassing the crowds of people clamoring for a piece of you outside and instead ushering you back out the way you came, straight into the back of the heavily tinted SUV. He sat in back with you, not willing to even be as far away as the front seat would force him to be.

It took until the two of you were well on the way back at your house for him to really calm down, the tension in his chest easing, finally able to relax his clenched fists.

“Can I ask you something?” You said quietly.

He looked over at you, your eyes soft and open and you were twisted in the seat so you were facing him as much as you could be while still being buckled in. He didn’t say anything but you pressed on.

“How…” you paused, like you were trying to figure out how to phrase your question. “How long have you protected someone?”

He flexed his hand.

“Few weeks,” he said. “Usually just a few days.”

You nodded slowly.

“Why.”

“Did you usually get along with the people you protected?” You asked, ignoring him.

He laughed once, derisively.

“No,” he said. “No, they’re just rich assholes. Usually CEOs in town for meetings or some shit. Protected this one model once who was a nice enough girl. You might know her… Rosie something think her name was. Don’t really remember. Otherwise, mostly just jackasses. Why.”

“You’ve never worked a job like this one, have you?” You asked, your head cocked ever so slightly to the side, your exacting gaze seeing past seemingly everything he had to protect that dying thing inside himself. “Where you might actually give a shit about whether or not the person you’re protecting lives for anything outside the professional, I mean.”

“No,” he said again after a moment. “No. I haven’t.”

You nodded again.

“I’m sorry it’s working out like this,” you said quietly. “I’m not trying to make life difficult. You probably think I’m full of shit but I’m really not…”

“I know,” he cut you off. “You’ve given me plenty of grief, Siren, but I know that’s not what this is.”

“I’ll…” you took a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll do my best to make sure it’s professional. It’s weird for me, too, being around someone this much and not… I’ll try to do better.”

He wanted to tell you not to worry about it. Please don’t stay away from me, he wanted to say. Please just be where I can see you and touch you and know that you’re breathing, please stay close to me, please don’t leave me alone in this.

“S’OK,” he said instead. “It’s… it’ll be OK.”

You smiled at him ever so slightly, something sad in your eyes when you did and he resisted the urge to touch you the rest of the way home.

***

Being rushed off stage after your big announcement put a bit of a damper on the celebration outside your house but inside, you still got to bask in the excitement a little. Ellie had called you freaking out while you were still on stage and you FaceTimed her as soon as you were back home.

“Are you kidding me, Sissy?” She gaped at you. “You’re seriously fucking Starlight? THAT’S what you’ve been working on?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, trying to keep from laughing, too happy that she was happy to scold her for her language. “Think I can pull it off?”

“Hell yeah!” She said, beaming. “This is the coolest fucking thing! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Not everything was that easy, though. You did your best to avoid Joel over the next few days as much as you could. You trained and did fight choreography, Joel sitting up front in the car while you sat in the back, and you kept to your office and bedroom as much as possible when you were at home. Not that Joel spent much time in the common areas of the house, anyway, but it seemed that when you did encounter each other there, there was a strange intimacy to it that didn’t exist in other spaces. It was safest to avoid it.

Even though it’s not that you wanted to avoid Joel. Far from it. The way he’d held you after the incident at the convention had touched you in a way no one else had. He’d clung to you like you were a lifeline, as though you mattered to him. And it wasn’t because you were rich, it wasn’t because you were beautiful and he wanted to own you, it wasn’t even because he fawned over your fame or power or skill. It felt like he did it just because you existed. Like that was all that as required of you when it came to him, like as long as you just continued to breathe you would matter to him. No one else had ever done that for you, not in the way he did, and now that you had a taste of it you craved it. You wanted to matter to him, you wanted him to see something in you that was worthy because there was something about him that was so real and so vital, something in him that made the way he saw the world so much more important than the way anyone else did.

Which is why you needed to give him space. You couldn’t let yourself do this. You couldn’t let yourself fall into the feelings you had for this man that were threatening to swallow you up, it would only get you hurt. Space was smart.

But, Tuesday, you didn’t have a choice. The premiere was Wednesday and you had to figure out what you and Joel were wearing, the entire day blocked off to spend at Frank’s studio to review the different looks he’d selected for you and Joel both. That meant a day together, whether either of you liked it or not.

And you might have liked it. More than you should.

“I can’t believe I get to dress that sexy, grumpy body guard of yours,” Frank said as you stood in your underwear looking at gown options, Joel waiting safely on the other side of the door. “I’d say it’s a dream except for the fact that he is one big man and no one knows who the hell he is so it’s not like I can name drop to get off-size samples. Selection’s going to be limited, I’m afraid.”

“I think he’ll live,” you said, reaching out and touching the skirt of one of the gowns, running your thumb over the sumptuous fabric. “I’m still surprised he went along with the date scheme, honestly.”

“I’m not,” Frank scoffed. “You two fucked yet?”

“Frank!” You gawked at him and swatted him.

“What!” He said, indignant. “I know chemistry when I see it, honey, and you two have chemistry.”

“He’s still not interested in fucking me,” you said, your stomach clenching at that thought even though you shouldn’t care.

“Yes he is,” Frank rolled his eyes. You raised your eyebrows at him and he waved you off. “For someone as stunning as you are, you sure are good at missing when someone wants to get you into bed. Maybe you’re just used to it because you’re you but that man would cut off a limb for a night in bed with you, mark my words.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious,” Frank said, his tone shifting. “And none of that’s unusual for you but I’ll tell you what is unusual for you: you want him back.”

“Don’t start,” you said, pointing at him sternly.

“I’m not starting anything,” he said, his hands up in surrender. “I’m just pointing some shit out. It’s been a long time since you were in a real relationship…”

“I’ve been kinda busy the last year or two,” you said, defensive.

“And you could use someone,” he continued like you hadn’t spoken at all. “And there are worse choices than the tall drink of water that’s sitting out there. That’s all I’m saying.”

“He works for me,” you said. “It’s not happening.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, turning his attention back to the gowns. “Want to know my favorite or do you want to go in blind?”

“That one’s your favorite,” you said, pointing to a fully beaded gown that looked like it would fit you like a glove. “Don’t think I don’t know you.”

He laughed and gave your arm a squeeze.

“To be loved is to be known,” he said. “Or something like that.”

You smiled a little.

“So they say,” you said. “Let’s try them on and figure out what we need to do to get me down that carpet.”

Frank had an eye. You tried on all the gowns but none of them held a candle to the one you’d eyeballed as his immediately.

“I know you get this all the time,” Frank said, standing back from you and looking you up and down after he’d pinned the places he’d need to make temporary alterations to make sure the gown fit you just right. “But I think you might be the most beautiful woman on Earth.”

“Only when you dress me,” you smiled but admired yourself in the mirror all the same.

“Alright,” he said, stepping onto the small platform to help you out of your gown. “Let’s get you out of this and figure out what we’re squeezing that giant man into.”

You laughed but let Frank undress you before getting back into the sweats you’d come to the studio in, your stylist going to grab Joel who looked none too happy about needing to get dressed up.

“Dunno why it fuckin’ matters what I wear,” Joel muttered as Frank took his measurements. “No one’s gonna be looking at me anyway.”

“We need to make sure you’re not drawing attention,” Frank said absently as he noted a measurement. “You show up in jeans to an event like this, people look at you funny. Unless you’re Adam Sandler but that’s another story…”

He straightened and looked at the numbers, draping the tape measure around his neck and comparing them to another sheet on his clip board and nodding to himself.

“Well, I’ve got good news,” he said idly. “I wasn’t too far off on your sizes and I pulled a few options for you, we don’t need to send you to Men’s Wearhouse. Or wherever it is we’d have to look to find something to fit those shoulder of yours…”

Joel glared at him but Frank didn’t seem to notice, just going to grab the suits as Joel stood awkwardly on the platform, trying to look anywhere but at the mirrors that surrounded him.

“You’ll never break Frank by being grumpy,” you said, smiling a little as you propped your head on your fist, one leg crossed over the other from your seat in the corner.

“Why’s that,” Joel said more than asked, barely glancing your way.

“His husband, Bill, would give you a run for your money on the grumpy asshole front,” you said. “He’s reigning world champ, you’d like him.”

“Jesus,” Joel muttered but you saw his lips tug up ever so slightly. You smiled.

“Don’t worry, Big Miller,” you teased. “You’re in good hands for your red carpet debut.”

Frank had undersold his options, Joel looking damn good in every outfit he put him in but, eventually, they settled on an all black suit that fit him almost perfectly - just needing to be let out a little at the cuffs of the coat and the hem of the pants - with a black shirt he was going to wear without a tie, open enough that you could see a bit of the golden tan expanse of his chest that made your mouth water when you looked at him too long.

“This is too much,” Joel grumbled. “Can’t I just wear… I dunno…”

“No, you can’t,” Frank cut him off. “Move your arms for me, up over your head.” Joel just looked at him, brows raised. “I’m assuming you want good range of motion to protect our newest superhero over there, right? So do what I say.” Joel rolled his eyes but obeyed. “Good boy,” Frank said and you coughed to cover your laugh.

He pinned Joel, too, and, eventually, the two of you were finished up, Frank and his team needing to get to work to finalize alterations and the rest of your outfits.

“See you both tomorrow morning at the hotel,” Frank said. “Expect you both to get a good night’s sleep, you’d better not let bags under your eyes ruin this for me, understand?”

“Yes sir,” you said, kissing both his cheeks. “And I’ll be sure to tell Bill about all the fun you had today…”

“Don’t start young lady,” Frank said, turning to Joel. “Keep her in line or I’ll put you in something hideous.”

He didn’t give your body guard a chance to respond. Instead, he just headed back into his studio and you tried not to laugh.

“You just like to torture everyone you work with don’t you,” Joel said, a teasing edge to his voice.

“I need to have fun somehow,” you said, letting Joel lead the way to the car that was waiting just outside the door. He put his hand on your back and you tried to ignore the way your heart raced when he did. “You looked really good, by the way.”

He frowned at you.

“In the suit, I mean,” you said. “You’re going to look good tomorrow.”

“Right,” he said, opening the door for you.You got in the back of the car and were surprised when he got in the back seat next to you. “Uh… thanks.”

You smiled a little as you buckled in. Frank might be wrong about Joel wanting to sleep with you but you could at least take some comfort in knowing that you could still throw him off a little. And as long as you could get through the premiere without caving to that growing, gnawing urge to touch him, kiss him, feel him, everything would be OK.

The two of you got up early the next day to head to a hotel near the premiere to get ready, Joel sitting next to you again with a sour look on his face the entire trip.

“So what’s got your boxer briefs in a twist today?” You teased after a while, not able to resist it.

“Don’t understand why we gotta be in an unknown space for this,” he grumbled. “Your house was fine for the last premiere, stupid to add another variable into this situation.”

“Because the last premiere was more low-key,” you shrugged. “This one starts later in the day and there’s a party after, we’re not going to want to deal with getting all the way back to my house that late. Trust me, having the closer space will be a blessing when push comes to shove. Think of it this way, you’ve got a safe place to whisk me off to when you get paranoid.”

He gave you a look and you stifled a giggle.

“Don’t think it’s paranoid if I’ve had to do more than just look after you the last few times you’ve been out in public here,” he muttered. “Should have said you couldn’t do this, not even your damn movie…”

“Well we extra need the media push now because I couldn’t do any press after the con,” you said. “And I know they got this premiere more locked down…”

He clenched his jaw and shook his head and, before you could stop yourself, you reached for the hand that rested on the seat between you, covering his thick fingers with your own. He looked there, still for a moment, before slowly, gently, turning his hand so he could hold yours. Your heart fluttered.

“It’ll be OK, Joel,” you smiled softly. “It will.”

They’d put you in a two bedroom suite with a living space in the middle, Quinn’s assistant getting the space set up with a variety of snacks and drinks and coming up with your favorite coffee as you settled into the larger bedroom to get ready.

The team of stylists showed up not long after you and you went through all the motions of getting ready for a big event - the nails and the hair and the putting on the gown that had to weigh at least 10 pounds and you were happy for the structure of the bodice so the weight of it wasn’t entirely landing on your shoulders.

“How’s Joel doing?” You asked Frank, sipping a Diet Coke through a straw as Caroline, your hair stylist, put the finishing touches on.

“Looking way better than he has any right to,” Frank replied, getting a necklace with a sizable blue gemstone - the same shade of blue the powers Starlight had glowed with in the comics - and put it around your neck. “It’s not fair, someone looking that good when they don’t give a shit about it.”

You laughed a little.

“Good thing you’re there to bring out the best in the guy,” you teased, giving a lock of his hair a little tug and he gave you a look, smiling a bit as he did.

“Well, I’ll take solace in the fact that he’s walking the carpet with you,” he said, offering you his hand to help you out of your chair. You took it and he adjusted your gown before walking around you in a slow, discerning circle. “He’ll pale in comparison.”

“Thanks to you,” you said as he held out his hand for you drink and you surrendered it.

“Alright,” he said, waving the makeup artist over. “Lip color, then we go.”

She painted it on and then Frank gave a nod.

“You’re ready,” he said. “Let’s get you there, be sure to watch the back of the dress when you’re getting in and out, it might snag on your heels…”

“I do know how to wear a gown,” you said, following him.

“If you saw how some of these things came back to me at the end of the night from other people, you’d know why I bother to say it,” he replied, opening the door to the living area and Joel stood up from the couch, moving for you for a moment before he stopped in his tracks, staring at you.

“What?” You asked after he’d stood stock still for what felt like too long.

“Nothin’,” he shook his head once. “You… you look nice.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, looking at him, trying to ignore the tug at the base of your chest you felt when you saw him there, the suit fitting him like it’d been made for him, the bare skin of his chest almost too intimate to look at even though you knew the entire planet would see him like this in just a few minutes. “Not too bad yourself.”

“I’m going to try to not be personally offended by the fact that you just said she looked ‘nice,’” Frank said, giving you a peck on the cheek. “You look beautiful, honey. Have fun, don’t work too hard. I’ll come by tomorrow to pick up the dress and jewelry.”

You watched Frank go before turning to Joel.

“Ready to run the gauntlet?” You asked.

“Guess so,” he sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Don’t sound so happy about it,” you teased as you made your way for the door. “You know there are men who would kill to be in your shoes right now.”

“I know,” Joel said. “That’s who I’m worried about.”

You gave him a brief run down of how to handle himself on the carpet on the short ride over. Let you do the talking, when people asked about your relationship just say that you’re friends, try to keep your face at least neutral if not smiling as much as possible.

“There are going to be a lot of people coming up to me,” you said. “If they’re in formalwear, don’t worry about it. Actors are physical folk, there’s going to be a lot of hugging and kissing, please don’t snap anybody’s arm because they decided to touch me.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, clearly tense.

“And you’ll probably need to touch me, too, now that I think about it,” you said as the car pulled up toward the carpet. He almost jumped at that and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You know, just in a friendly way. For pictures and as we’re moving down the carpet. If we don’t hold hands and that sort of thing at some point, it’ll look strange.”

“OK,” he said, sounding hesitant.

“I won’t read into it,” you smiled a little. “Promise.”

Joel adjusted, stiff in his seat, and the cuff of his jacket slid up his arm, just enough to reveal his watch. But it wasn’t the one you’d been expecting. Instead, it was the one you’d given him, the one you’d thought he’d certainly have pawned or destroyed or… something by now.

Your shock must have shown on your face because Joel frowned.

“What,” he said, looking at you.

“You’re wearing the watch,” you said quietly. “You kept it.”

“Oh,” he said, looking down at his wrist and clearing his throat awkwardly. “Yeah. I… It’s nice. Thought this was the place to wear it.”

The car came to a stop at the carpet and a man in a headset with a clipboard opened the door, smiling.

“Welcome!” He said, offering you his hand. “We’re just about ready for you on the carpet.”

You took his hand and stepped out of the car, a roar going up from the roped off area for fans as you did. You smiled broadly, raising your arm to wave at them as Joel came up behind you. You sensed him there more than saw him, something about the strength and security of his presence making you hyperaware of where he was in relation to you.

“This what it’s always like for you?” He asked, putting his hand in the middle of your back, at the skin that was bared just over the top of the gown. You resisted the urge to lean back into his touch. “Everyone looking at you all the time?”

“Just figured that one out, eh?” You smirked a little and lifted the hem of your dress enough that you could walk unimpeded. “C’mon, Big Miller. Time to get to work.”

You led the way down the red carpet, signing a few autographs with Joel’s hand firmly at your waist as he watched everything all around you. You’d just cleared the fan area and were starting toward the press when there was an excited shriek that made Joel stiffen but you smiled as Chloe, a friend from early in your film career who had been in this franchise for years, came running over.

“Oh my God, it’s so good to see you!” She squealed, hugging you and you kissed her cheek as she kissed yours. “Welcome to the family, baby!”

“Thank you!” You laughed, giving her arm a squeeze. “I’m in for a few movies so I’m sure we’ll be in one together.”

“Fuck, I hope so,” she said. “I should have held out until they started giving women the leads in this shit. I’m a glorified sidekick and the team is all guys. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but damn the set needs some estrogen.”

“Chloe!” Someone yelled for her from further up the carpet.

“One sec!” She yelled back before turning back to you. “Ugh, back to the office, I guess. See you at the afterparty? You can tell me about whoever this is?”

She looked Joel up and down, a suggestive look on her face.

“OK go take photos with your husband,” you shoved her playfully and she laughed, giving you a wink before obeying.

You took Joel’s hand, the movement feeling oddly familiar and natural as you laced your fingers with his and led him to the row of photographers waiting for you.

“Now act like you like me,” you smiled at Joel, guiding his hand around your waist as you posed beside him, angling your body for the different cameras. He was stiff against you, like he was trying to hold himself away from you as much as he could and you tried to not let that sting.

“Some of just you, beautiful!” A photographer yelled and you laughed and gave Joel a squeeze before stepping away, posing so they could capture you from the front, back, side. It was second nature to you now, how to best position your body to make it as appealing as possible, always holding yourself in a way that wasn’t necessarily comfortable but made people want you. That was your job, be the object of desire, and you tried not to think too hard about that fact when you caught a glimpse of Joel’s face as he watched you smile coyly over your shoulder for photographers.

You took his hand again as you made your way to interviews, stopping to talk to reporters and say over and over again just how excited you were to play Starlight.

“How many more of these you got?” Joel asked, his lips at your ear and his body so close to yours you couldn’t help but be aware of every inch of him. You shook yourself mentally and looked down the row of waiting reporters.

“I think three more outlets,” you said, pulling away from him just enough to look him in the eye. “Why, getting antsy there, Big Miller?”

“Don’t know how you do this all the time,” he muttered. “Shit is exhausting. And I’m not even the one doing the talkin’.”

You laughed a little and led him down the line, stopping at the next reporter, one you’d talked to a few times before and had always liked.

“Oh hi!” You hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks when she greeted you. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in a while! Did you have your baby?”

“I did!” She smiled. “About five months ago.”

“Congratulations! Tell me about her!” You said. “They’re a girl, right? Can I see pictures?”

She smiled and showed you pictures of her baby, a tiny thing with chubby cheeks and soft, dark curls and you fawned over her.

“It’s actually very convenient that you made me get my phone out,” she said after a minute. “Because I wanted to get some reactions to tweets that fans have posted about you. Just a fun little game to mix it up a little.”

“Oh alright,” you smiled conspiratorially. “Lay it on me, mama.”

“I’ll give you the phone so you can see the tweet,” she said, pulling it up. “You read it and tell us your thoughts!”

She passed you her phone, a screenshot of a tweet pulled up.

“Alright,” you said, laughing a little as you read it. “This one says ‘Now that we know who Starlight is, I’m going to need her step on me while blowing some bad guy away.’ Well… TitsMcGee23 - great handle, by the way - that sounds structurally unstable but if I ever need a riser on set, I will slide into your DMs.”

The reporter laughed and you handed her the phone back. She pulled up the next one and returned it.

“Oh, this is… something,” you laughed. “‘Dear Starlight: Choke me, Mommy.’ Well, I sure hope I’m not old enough to be your mother if you’re posting that and I don’t think choking is really my thing but you know what? I could be convinced, you sound fun.”

She had a few more tweets like that to read and you played along before moving on to the next reporter, who asked who you were wearing and then honed in on Joel.

“And who is this gentleman?” She said, looking Joel up and down. “Is he someone we should be watching out for in your next film?”

You looked over your shoulder to Joel whose eyes had gone wide in panic

“Um,” he said, looking quickly to you and you stifled a laugh.

“This is my friend,” you said, looping your arm around his back, hoping it came off as familiar and friendly. “He was kind enough to make sure I had someone to lean on while walking the carpet in these heels!”

You stuck your leg out through the thigh high slit in your gown, turning your ankle and showing off the stilettos Frank had put you in.

“Just a friend though?” The reporter asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “No new romance for Hollywood’s hottest bachelorette?”

“Afraid not,” you scrunched your nose. “For now I’m flying solo and spending as much time as I can with my niece. But if that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

You made your way inside and settled in with Joel at the back of the theater so the stars of this movie could comfortably take center stage, him shifting uncomfortably in his seat and adjusting his suit.

“Doing OK there Big Miller?” You teased.

“That was fuckin’ surreal,” he muttered. “That’s really what it’s like for you all the time? Strangers asking about your personal life and making you read what people post about you online and wanting you to tell them the same thing over and over?”

“Pretty much,” you laughed a little. “I keep telling people that being a movie star is not all it’s cracked up to be but no one believes me.”

“Jesus,” Joel muttered.

“It has its perks though,” you smiled, nodding to the screen as the director got up to introduce the film. “Get to see the biggest movies early. And, you know, there’s the whole getting to make art for a living and do what I really love.”

Joel looked at you for a moment, considering you as the lights dimmed.

“You really do love it don’t you,” he said. “The acting part.”

“Yeah,” you smiled a little. “I do.”

When the movie ended, you and Joel went to a lounge the studio had rented out for the afterparty, the whole place decked out with Scarlet Sentinel colors and logos, music thumping in the background and servers roaming with trays of hors d'oeuvres and themed cocktails.

“We gotta go over the rules?” He asked, keeping you at his side near the door.

“I can go wherever I want whenever I want and definitely be out of your line of sight at all times?” You asked brows raised. He glared and you laughed. “I’m not going to try and ditch you, don’t worry. I’ll stay nice and close.”

“Gotta figure out how to make you behave like this all the time,” he muttered and the two of you worked your way into the party.

It was surprisingly easy, hanging out with Joel and catching up with people. Chloe came back over to say hi and so you could fill her in on the situation with Joel - dragging her husband along behind her - and Bryant, a guy you did a movie with in your early 20s and hooked up with a few times in the fall out after Henry noticed you, smiling when he did.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” He said, coming up and kissing you hello. “How have you been, it’s been ages!”

“I’ve been a little busy,” you laughed, giving him a squeeze, Joel’s hand still firmly on your back. “So have you though, congratulations on the Tony!”

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, stepping back and looking you up and down. “Fuck, you look good.”

“Thank you,” you smirked. “I’m going to be every teenaged boy’s wet dream now, haven’t you heard?”

“Please, you’ve been that for teenaged boys for years,” he said and you laughed. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

You scrunched your nose and went to turn him down but he cut you off.

“Old time’s sake,” he said. “I’ll only try to get you back in bed for the first minute. Promise.”

You groaned and then looked over to Joel who looked none too happy about the proposition.

“I won’t go far,” you said. “Promise.”

He quirked his jaw.

“This side of the dance floor,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a squeeze as you let Bryant lead you onto the dance floor.

“So,” he said. “What are the chances of you going home with me tonight instead of the giant asshole who is staring at me like he’s about to knife me?”

“Slim,” you said. “But, if it makes you feel better, I will leave with him but only because he’s my bodyguard.”

“That does help,” he said. “But bodyguard? That’s new for you.”

“Just some extra concerns for a little while,” you said. “I have a fan that’s been getting a little aggressive and there was that thing at the premiere a few months ago…”

“I heard about that,” he flinched. “Doing better now?”

“Yeah,” you waved him off. “Honestly, I don’t think it’s as much of a thing as everyone else seems to think it is.”

“Well if Rambo over there is keeping you safe?” He said. “I like him a little more. Though I think he could keep you just as safe by standing outside my bedroom door while I put your ankles by your ears as he could standing outside your room.”

You laughed.

“Bold of you to assume my legs can still bend that way,” you said. “I’m not 23 anymore.”

“Oh I saw that convention footage,” he teased. “I’m pretty sure you could do whatever you wanted to with those legs. But I promised no trying to get you back in my bed after the first minute on the dance floor so I will stop that as of… you’re sure you don’t want to fuck me?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Stopping now,” he smiled.

Bryant was true to his word and, when the song ended, you were true to yours, making your way back to Joel as he practically glared a hole into the side of his head.

“See?” You said, standing next to Joel. “All in one piece.”

“Don’t wanna keep you from your boyfriend,” he muttered, crossing his arms and you laughed.

“Not a boyfriend, don’t worry,” you said. “And I’m not going to argue with an excuse to not go home with him, he’s actually not that great in bed.”

Joel snorted at that and you got another cocktail from a passing server.

“Hey,” Chloe came up behind you, looping her arm around your waist. “I have to pee and this dress is a nightmare, can you help me?”

“I dunno,” you looked at Joel, brows raised. “Am I allowed to go to the bathroom?”

“If I stay outside the bathroom door and you don’t try to sneak past me?” Joel said. “Yes.”

“So demanding,” you sighed dramatically, making Joel roll his eyes as you headed off, feeling his gaze heavy on your back as you went.

But when you made inside the bathroom, you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound almost maniacal, and Chloe frowned.

“What?” She asked.

“There are two entrances,” you nodded to the other one. “All that bluster and he wouldn’t even notice if we went out the other door. Should we fuck with Joel and go out the other side, meet him out there?”

“I think you’d give him a heart attack,” she giggled. “Come on, I have to piss like a race horse.”

You went into the stall with her, helping her hold her gown up and then traded, her doing the same for you before you went to wash your hands.

“Come on,” you said, your head swimming from the alcohol and a lightness filling you. “Let’s go out the other door, it would be hilarious.”

“He seems scary,” Chloe scrunched her nose. “Do you really want to poke the bear?”

“Poking the bear is the only fun to be had when you’ve got six and a half feet of muscle following you around all the time,” you replied, drying your hands before straightening your gown. “Come on, you know you want to.”

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “Let’s do it.”

You giggled, wondering if this was how kids in school felt when they played a prank, looping your arm through hers and heading for the other door when you bumped into someone on their way into the bathroom, one of the servers in a black white button down and bow tie.

“Sorry!” You laughed quickly, stepping back, and then realizing that the man was familiar. Not because you’d taken a cocktail from him or grabbed an hors d'oeuvres from his tray. No, you knew his face from another time, from a moment of pain and fear that had stayed planted firmly in your mind in the weeks since it had happened. The wrist that had been in a cast throbbed. You wanted to run but you couldn’t seem to make yourself move, your feet frozen to the earth.

Chloe went to duck around him, trying to pull you with her, but he cut both of you off and your hold on her tightened.

“Excuse us,” she said, no sense of wrongness in her voice. She didn’t know and you couldn’t seem to make your mouth move to tell her. “We’re just headed out.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, lifting his arm, a butcher knife in his grip, and he pressed the blade to your chest.

***

Joel didn’t like any of this.

He didn’t like the way everyone on the damn red carpet - from the people directing you from place to place to the fans to the reporters - seemed to want a piece of you. He didn’t like how you had to laugh at strangers saying crazy shit about how they wanted to fuck you because you were on camera. He didn’t like how packed it was in here and he didn’t like that the volume of the music made it hard to hear jack shit and that the low lights made it hard to see. He didn’t like the way that fucking guy had just come up and kissed you and cracked jokes about getting you into his bed, jealousy twisting hot and sharp in his stomach when he watched that man’s hands on you.

He really didn’t like that you were out of sight right now, in the bathroom with your friend. Yeah, he could make sure no one else went in there and he doubted even you could find much trouble in a bathroom but still. There were so many people here, so many variables, and he couldn’t see you or feel you or hear you. You were outside the realm of his control and he didn’t like it, not at all.

His chest got tighter and he looked at his watch, the one you’d given him, his usual timepiece on the nightstand in his room at the hotel. He’d told himself that he did it to blend in - this fancy fucking suit needed a fancy fucking watch - but he knew that was bullshit as he put it on, his thumb tracing the engraving on the back as he slipped it on his wrist. He put it on because he wanted to look like he belonged with you, even if it was just for a night. He put it on because he wanted to have something that came from you touching him. And then he saw how your face lit up when you noticed it, your genuine happiness at him using something you’d given him, and he had a hard time remembering why he’d avoided it for so long. Why would he ever do anything to keep you from smiling like that? He wasn’t sure.

He’d checked the time when you went into the bathroom, too, and you’d been in the bathroom for what seemed like a while. Yeah, you’d be navigating that fancy dress - the one that damn near sent him into shock when he saw it, the perfect way it framed your shape and accentuated your breasts and exposed your thigh - but still. Something felt off.

He was just about to slip into the bathroom to check on you, propriety be damned, when Chloe stumbled out, tears streaming down her face, slamming into him.

He caught her, quickly looking her up and down, his heart pounding as he desperately searched for some sign of her panic, something besides you being hurt and just out of reach. It had to be something else, it couldn’t be you, it couldn’t.

“You have to help her!” She sobbed before he had the chance to ask where you were, her fingers twisting in the sleeves of his jacket as she clung to him. “He has a knife, he’s got her, you have to help her, please!”

Joel’s heart stuttered and he shoved past your friend and ran headlong into the bathroom, drawing the gun that was strapped to his side as he went.

You were nowhere to be found but he figured out why quickly: there was another fucking way out. He ran for it, keeping his gun low. The other entrance went to a long hall, one end emptying back out into the lounge, the other toward the kitchen. He was trying to take a guess on where to go when a cook came running out from the kitchen, a panicked look on his face, another cook close behind.

“Fuck!” Joel swore, running for the kitchens as more people started pouring out, forcing him to go against the flow of servers and chefs as they made a run for it. He could hear the chaos in the main part of the building, the music cutting out and someone - not you - screaming.

He kept going.

He pushed himself to keep moving even though it felt as though something was choking him, his heart racing, his chest tight because he had to reach you, he had to, until he was behind the building and you were there, straining to not get in the back of a car, a knife held to your throat by a man who - even in the dim glow of the street light - Joel recognized. It was the man from the premiere, the one who had broken your wrist weeks ago. Your body was held tight to his, your hands wrapped almost gently around his arm, trying to keep the knife away from your skin.

Time froze, the whole of the world honing in on this one, fine point. The blade on your skin, the panic on your face, his arm around you. Your life was in this man’s hands and he could take it. Joel was inches away from seeing your blood spill all over that sparkling dress because - for all your ethereal beauty and inhuman perfection - you were just a mortal thing, the same animal he was on the inside. This man could destroy you as easily as anyone else and Joel could feel the pull of that possibility there, this terrifying and haunting potential future on the horizon. It was like he was seeing the car in the road again, smelling the gasoline, feeling the blood on his skin. There would be nothing he could do for you if this man decided to end you, nothing he could do for himself.

He wasn’t going to let that happen. He was not going to hold your body, too.

The world righted itself, time moving again. He ignored the tightness in his chest, raising his gun.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” The man pleaded with you, breathless. You were between Joel and him, he couldn’t get a clean shot. “Just listen to me! Just come with me, it’ll be OK, I won’t hurt you I promise I won’t hurt you, I…”

“Stop!” Joel said, gun up and trained on the man. He looked away from you to Joel, adjusting you ever so slightly so you were even more of a human shield. “Let her go! Now!”

“Joel,” you said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. Your face was streaked with makeup and tears and you looked afraid, so afraid. He was close enough now that he could see you shaking in the man’s arms. “Please.”

“Let her go!” Joel yelled again, moving closer. The man pressed the knife to your throat and Joel froze, your eyes closing, lower lip trembling. “Right the fuck now!”

“You took her from me before,” the man snarled, voice shaky. “I’m not letting you take her again! I just want to love her, that’s it! But you won’t let me!”

“We can work something out,” you said, your voice thick. “Please, just…”

“You don’t understand!” He yelled, spittle flying from his mouth. But he was more focused on you for a moment and Joel took advantage of his distraction to press closer. “I’m what you need! You wouldn’t be fighting me if you just understood! I’ve seen it, you need me, I’m just trying to take care of you, you don’t understand!”

The man looked to Joel again and he stopped, gun still up.

“Stop trying to take her from me!” He shrieked and you flinched. The knife had moved from your throat but was against your chest now, the metal pressing into the skin below your throat and the exposed swell of your breast but not drawing blood. “She needs me! If you cared about her, you’d let her go with me!”

Joel was close and he was a damn good shot but the only part of this man he could reliably hit was his head and that was right by yours. Even if he hit him dead on, at this range, there was a chance the bullet would go through his head and into yours.

“Alright!” Joel said, thinking quickly. “Alright. I’m gonna lower my gun, need you to keep the knife where I can see it.”

“Joel!” You cried, eyes wide and pleading.

“S’OK baby,” he said, putting the gun down slowly. “It’s gonna be OK. He’s not gonna hurt you, it’s gonna be OK.” He turned his attention back to the man. “Keep your eyes on me. I’m lowering the gun.”

He nodded quickly, watching Joel, and he lowered his weapon slowly, aiming it just off to the side as he did. But instead of putting the gun on the ground, Joel shot, aiming for the tire of the car and hitting it.

Things moved quickly then. Joel dropped the gun and ran for you. The man jumped in shock at the gun shot and then tried to get a better grip on you but Joel reached him before he did, ripping you away from him, you collapsing to the pavement as Joel threw the man to the ground.

He tackled him then, the man swinging the knife uselessly at Joel but he was easily able to knock it away, pinning the man below him and then punching him across the face.

Joel had only intended to hit him to knock him out, just enough to protect you, but once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop, the man screaming and writhing below him. Joel hit him again and again, the man’s hands scrambling against his chest, trying to shove him away but Joel was bigger, stronger and lost in the satisfaction of destroying him.

Because it was satisfying. This man had tried to take you, hurt you, kill you. He’d tried to make Joel have to hold your broken body as you bled out in his arms, just like he had five years earlier, he’d tried to take one of the only things left in this world that mattered and destroy it simply because he could and Joel could make him pay. He’d never been able to get justice from his daughter’s killer but he could get justice from this man. He could make sure this man never, ever hurt you again.

He hit him again and again and again until his fist and jacket sleeves and the face of the watch you’d given him were bloodied and the man below him stopped shoving at Joel, his body going limp. His chest wasn’t moving.

Joel finally stopped punching him then, his knuckles ruined, and he panted for breath, looking down at what remained of the man. Because he wasn’t a man anymore, he was a body. He was dead. The man was dead and Joel had killed him and he knew that something in him should feel bad about that but he couldn’t. All he could feel was this righteous satisfaction that he’d kept you safe. This was what he was supposed to do, what he was built to do. He was supposed to protect you - even if it killed him he was supposed to protect you - and he had.

He went to make sure the knife was out of the man’s reach - just in case he was wrong about the fact that he was dead - and it was. But it was also bloody and it was too far away for that blood to be from Joel’s assault.

“No,” he breathed, looking, frantic, for you.

He found you quickly, lying flat on your back, your eyes wide and afraid. You were shaking and there was blood at your chest, enough that it had smeared on your skin and turned some of the silver beads of your gown red.

“No, no, no,” he scrambled for you and those wide, terrified eyes found his. “No, you’re OK baby, you’re OK.”

He looked you over quickly, his hands ranging over your body, taking stock, and he realized that he wasn’t going to have to hold your body, too. The man had cut you but it wasn’t deep and gaping. It wasn’t like her. You were hurt but you would be OK and he took a deep, centering breath. You were going to live. He wasn’t going to need to find a way to survive a world without you in it, you were going to live.

His hands were cautious on you then, gentle, as he tried to pull you into his arms but you threw your arms around his neck, practically clawing up his body until you were pressed tightly to him. Your whole body shook and you sobbed, heavy and racking as you gulped frantic breaths against him.

“Joel,” your voice was muffled by his shirt and he could feel the wet of your blood and tears on him. “He… he was going…”

“I know,” he said softly, clutching you against him and rocking you gently. He could barely breathe. There were sirens in the distance. You were alive. You weren’t dying in his arms, he wasn’t going to have to put you in the ground, you were alive. You were alive. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Please don’t leave me,” you clung to him. “Please don’t go, please don’t leave me, please.”

He held you closer, tighter.

“Not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I’ve got you baby. You’re OK. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect you. You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

Next Chapter

A/N: OH THEY'RE IN IT NOWWWWWWW

I'm so excited for the next chapter you guys. So excited. So so so so so so SO excited.

I've only been picturing it since I first came up with this fic, nothing crazy at all, nope, not squealing and kicking my lil feelies one bit.

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you've enjoyed the journey these characters have been on together and I hope you enjoy where they're going next, too!

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@phry-k@sunnytuliptime

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

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d3add0vedonoteat · 1 year ago

Text

Chicken Soup for Carmy

⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ harsh language, sexism and violence in one scene (not from Carmy). Hurt/comfort, fluff.

A/N: I’m literally feral for this man. I’m sick atm and I started thinking about taking care of Carmy while I was making chicken soup. Bonus combo with Carmy protecting you from an asshole customer. Not proofread bc my brain is rotting. Plz be nice this is my first time posting a fic 🥺

It was cold. You braced yourself against the harsh Chicago wind as you made your way briskly down the street. After a late night phone call from your brother sent you into a spiral, you couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning all night until finally, at 4am, you flung off the covers and got dressed. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d come here. This place consumed all your mind and your heart since you started working here a few months ago. You used your key to unlock the door in the alley, sighing with relief as the warmth of The Beef welcomed you inside. It was quiet, the lights were down, it was peaceful. You slipped off your sneakers trading in your kitchen clogs and tucked your things safely away in your locker. You tied your handkerchief on your head as you moved. It was so comforting, the routine of The Beef’s prep work. You felt so at home, moving from the prep area to the walk in, diligently beginning the tasks that didn’t need to be started for a few more hours. He would understand. You thought to yourself as you began to prepare fresh stock for the day. He was a man after your own heart, your boss, Carmen Berzatto.

Avoidant, chaotically emotional, one wrong thing away from a complete meltdown, that you both disguised as workaholic tendencies. As you finely chopped onions, your mind quieted. Everything was shut out except for the task at hand. Your brother’s angry voice on the phone accusing you: “you never come home! You don’t even care about us! You can’t take come take care of your own mother?!” was drowned out by the rhythmic pound of your knife on the cutting board. You were in the zone.

Until a voice startled you out of your bubble. “Chef?” You jolted, looking up at the man before you. Carmy’s hair was messier than usual, the bags under his eyes were deeper and more purple. His lips were parted with each soft breath he took. He gave you a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh-” your mouth felt dry and you tripped over your words, as usual when he set those intense blue eyes on you. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Carmy nodded, not pushing you any further. All he said before moving toward the office was a simple: “Heard, Chef.”

You watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the labor of his normally spry step. There was no mistaking it, Carmen was sick. You stared at the office door for a long moment before you made up your mind.

You set a heavy bottomed pot on the stove with some olive oil. Your hands moved with well practiced efficiency as you chopped garlic and onions, celery and carrots. The garlic and onions went in first. Then the celery. A sprig of thyme and a dash of white wine. While that simmered you quickly seared some chicken breast and chopped it into perfectly bite sized pieces. All into the pot with chicken stock and water, tightly covered to develop the flavors. Next came the pasta. You cracked eggs into the well of flour, mixing and kneading until it became a smooth golden dough. You carefully, tenderly rolled the dough and cut it into thick, short noodles. A bath in hot water to cook, then they too joined the pot. In no time at all, you were ladling a generous portion into a bowl. You set a toasted piece of chibatta on the side, grabbed a spoon, and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle your nerves. Softly, you knocked on the office door.

“Yeah?” His voice responded.

“Chef?” You entered, nervous. Words failing you as they so often did in his presence, you set the bowl before him. Carmy’s eyes widened. The aroma made his mouth water. He looked to you, gaze softening. “You made me chicken soup?”

Your cheeks grew warm. “Y-yeah, I mean chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

Carmy couldn’t believe you. You noticed? He smiled at you. You were so beautiful. You were always so confident and sure on the line, delegating with efficiency, respect, and authority. He had hired you the second you stepped into The Beef. Your resume was impressive but there was something in the way you carried yourself that truly earned the golden reputation you had in the culinary industry. But you were different with him, in the occasional moments like this where it was just you and him. Shy, almost bashful, gentle, and soft. He loved it. He wanted more of it. He lifted the spoon, bringing a bite to his lips.

“Gotta get a little of everything.” You muttered, eagerly awaiting his response.

Carmy shot you a sideways smile. It was good. No, it was better than good. The warm broth slid down his throat and each bite exploded with a depth of flavor he couldn’t believe. It was pure comfort. It reminded him of being a little kid staying home sick from school. Curled up on the couch while Jerry Springer played, eating crackers and ginger ale until his mom would bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. But this soup, your soup, was more than that. People always talk about cooking with love but he swore he could taste it. Each ingredient had been so carefully handled. Perfectly chopped vegetables, moist and flavorful chicken. The warm feeling in his chest grew as he inspected the bowl.

“Did uh, did you make this pasta fresh?” He asked, eyeing you.

“Yeah, it’s better that way.” You blushed.

“Thank you, chef.” He said. “It’s really, really good.” Carmy looked down, suddenly feeling heavy. The fear of closeness set into him and all he could think about was how he’d fuck this up. “You-you didn’t have to make this for me.”

“Oh, it’s okay!” You insisted. “It was no big deal.” You began to leave, giving him one last truthful smile. “I like taking care of you.”

“I like taking care of you.” Your words rattled through Carmy’s mind all day. Throughout all of lunch, prep, and dinner he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. The soup you had made was the first thing he’d eaten in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him and you’d just done it because you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. No motive, no games, just tender love and concern.

Love.

Carmy shook his head to try and shake the thought from his mind. No, no, no there was no way you actually cared about him. Not like that. You were just being nice.

That’s just who you are; nice. You were always so kind. The way you’d help Marcus workshop pastries, the way you’d make Tina laugh and listen to her talk about whatever trouble Louis had gotten in, how you’d encourage Sydney and remind her that she can do this. Even the way you’d throw snark right back at Richie or how’d you’d always set aside a portion of Family for Fak and Sugar, even Pete. You were always thinking of others. Carmy wasn’t special.

Yeah. Not special.

Carmy insisted the thought as he scrubbed the grill. Not special. Not special. Not special.

“Carmy?” There you were. You were always there. You had a thick denim jacket on, bag on your shoulder, knit beanie pulled down over your hair. Your brow furrowed at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Carmy shook his head. “I’m fine… you uh- you heading out?”

You shrugged, hoisting your bag a little higher on your shoulder and eyeing him skeptically. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, in a bit.”

You chuckled, more exasperated than humorous. “No.”

“What?” Carmy asked, confused.

“No, you’re leaving too.” You insisted. You were feeling bold. Months of long looks and his hand on your lower back every time he passed you had culminated tonight.

You had taken over the front for Richie while he ducked out to take a call from his daughter. You’d insisted. It was slammed for dinner but everything was going fairly smooth until an irate customer approached you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d asked, slamming his plate onto the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean are you retarded or something?” He continued. You were stunned into silence. You had never had anyone speak to you like that. “How hard is it to make a fucking sandwich? I know your tits are bigger than your brain but Jesus fucking Christ it’s not hard!”

“I-I…” you were shaking. “I’m sorry that you’re not satisfied, sir. If you like, we can-”

“Not satisfied?!” He screamed. “How can I be satisfied with this piece of shit!”

He hurled the sandwich at you. It hit you in the chest, toppings and sauce splattering everywhere. Before you even knew what was happening, a blur of messy curls shot past you. Carmy launched over the counter, tackling the man. His fist collided with the man’s face over and over while Richie and Fak rushed after him. There was a cacophony of yells as Richie pulled Carmy back. “Get your girl!” Richie yelled. “Cousin! Go get your girl!”

Fak and Richie dragged the man out and threw him into the street. Carmy’s hands grasped your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He wiped the sauce splatters from your brow. “Look at me.”

Carmy burned with anger as he watched you shake. Your white shirt and blue apron were covered in the sandwich. He imagined what you would do for him if he was in your position. How you’d care for him, how you’d tend to him… so he tried to do what you would. Gently he guided you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist. He practically carried you to his office where he sat you on the couch and quickly went to grab a clean shirt from his own locker. You were in the same place he left you when he returned. Carmy knelt before you, taking your face in his hands once more.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tears welled in your eyes and you collapsed into his arms. He smoothed his hand over you back, repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. He felt like he was on fire. The feeling of you clinging to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, the smell of you, how you fit in his arms… it was too much. He wanted to run away and never speak to you again. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to find the piece of shit that yelled at you and rip him to pieces. He wanted your chicken soup every time he was sick.

All those feelings were closing in on Carmy once again as he stared at you across the kitchen. You still had his t shirt on. You were looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, uh… what did you say?” Carmy’s voice was softer than he expected.

“I said I’ll walk home with you.”

“Oh, no that’s okay. Ive got to-“

“Carmy,” you stepped closer. Your voice was firm but so tender. “You need to get some rest. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”

He couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Alright…” he conceded.

The two of you braced yourselves against the cold and hurried down the sidewalk side by side. You argued about who would walk who home. Carmy insisted on walking you to your apartment but you protested on the grounds that he’d just go back to the restaurant once he dropped you off.

“Fine,” you gave in. “But you have to call me when you get to your place so I know you made it home!”

Carmy looked at the ground, smiling. The warmth in his chest from your soup was steadily turning into a molten pool of lava.

“Heard.” He grinned. You wanted to know he’d made it home. You wanted to make sure he rested. I like taking care of you.

“Well, I’m just up here.” Your voice stopped his thoughts from spiraling before it could even start. Carmy’s brow furrowed. “What?” You asked, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.

“You live over there?”

“Yeah? Like a block down?”

There was a beat of silence before Carmy let out a breathy laugh. “I live right there.” He pointed to the building on the other side of the street.

“No shit!” You laughed in earnest. Your hand came to rest on his arm. “Guess I’m gonna be walking you home more often.”

Carmy’s entire body was on fire. He could imagine the tingle of your soft hand on his skin through all the layers of clothing. He wanted to hold you close again like in his office, but this time you wouldn’t be crying. A deep pit opened in his stomach. How long before he made you cry? How long before he fucked it all up? Until you hated him and quit the restaurant and everything fell apart because he-

“Hey,” your voice. Always your voice that brought him back. When he looked over at you it was like everything but your face faded into a blurry background. You were all Carmy could see. “Do you want to come to mine? I haven’t eaten and I KNOW you haven’t either.”

Carmy’s heart fluttered. “O-okay.” He started, his confidence rising when he noticed your hand was still in his arm. “Only if you let me cook you something.”

“Ooh,” you smiled. “I’d never turn that down!”

Carmy chuckled, feeling lighter for the first time in years as he walked so close beside you that your shoulders brushed. “It won’t be as good as your chicken soup.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #hurt/comfort #sickfic #carmen berzatto fluff

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man-i-love-fanfiction · 5 months ago

Text

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Three: Chrysanthemums - Joy

Summary: You and Andrew meet outside of your workplace for the first time for a completely platonic coffee on him.

Word count: 2385

Author's note: i am so sorry that this took so long 😭 last week of school combined with finals combined with life i guess hindered me from writing. but i'm back on track!!! hopefully you all enjoy and if i don't update again soon happy holidays <3

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @padfootblackswh0r3 (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

This is not a date.

That was your affirmation all of Friday morning, repeating it to yourself.

You muttered it under your breath as you fixed your hair. It was mumbled as you laid out your outfit, specifically chosen to be fashionable but casual: your favorite sweater and a nice pair of jeans. You whispered it before spraying your perfume, a scent you had to dig through your closet for five minutes to find. Ironically, the scent was nothing close to floral. You said it to each of your houseplants as you watered them. They remained unconvinced.

Slipped on your shoes. Locked up your flat. Walked down the stairs. You repeated your mantra every time, because maybe if you said it enough times, it would become true.

By the time you made it to your car, you had said it so many times it felt like breathing. Your hands gripped the wheel. You locked eyes with your reflection in the rearview mirror and whispered your phrase of the morning one more time for good luck.

This. Is. Not. A. Date.

Stepping down on the gas pedal, you began to drive.

On the drive there, you prepared yourself for all possible scenarios. This kind of thinking came naturally — it always did, especially in situations like these. You ran through what your reaction would be if he showed up, what it would be if he didn't. What you would do if he had an insanely complex coffee order, or if he ordered a drink with six shots of espresso. What if he tried to order for you, or if he made some backhanded comment about another woman at the cafe? You doubted he would do any of these things, but you believed it's better to be safe than sorry. This thinking only paused when you parked in front the coffee shop and caught a glimpse of Andrew waiting inside. All of your previous repetition and fretting had made you ten minutes late, a fact you weren't fond of and hoped Andrew wouldn't chastise you for.

The moment you stepped into the coffee shop, all of your previous affirmations were thrown out the window. It wasn't a date. But after seeing Andrew you wished that it was.

It wasn't any particular factor. It wasn't the black denim jacket he was wearing, or the way he'd tied half his hair up, leaving the other half down. It wasn't even the smile on his face, reserved like he wasn't sure how to react properly when he saw you. It was a combination of everything; his presence alone was enough to make you flustered. So flustered that you were very close to forgetting to say anything when you walked up to him. Thankfully, at the last moment, you actually spoke.

“Hey! Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” you greeted him with a small smile.

“Oh, no. I just got here, too. You're alright.”

You walked inside together, and you looked around at your new surroundings. It was a small business, quaint and cozy, with framed photos of artworks by local artists; it was exactly what you would imagine a coffee shop that Andrew picked to be.

Because all of your overthinking (or what you preferred to call planning) on the way there, you ordered your coffee with ease. Andrew recited his order, a black americano, a surprise to you. You watched as he paid and gave his name for the order, the barista already recognizing him. He turned his head towards you and offered an explanation:“I’m a regular. I always come here whenever I need a pick-me-up.”

“I’ll have to come here more often, then,” you replied.

You found a small table in the corner and sat down to claim it for the both of you while Andrew stood by the counter, waiting for your coffee. What a gentleman.

You had yet to notice any flaws in him, only making your self-imposed rule of this not being romantic harder to follow. There had to be something about him that was off. There was no way he was so caring and endearing and funny all at the same time; he had to have an imperfection eventually. You didn't find it in the few minutes you watched him stand around, occasionally fiddling with his hands or putting them in his pockets. Your efforts grew even more futile as he walked over with the coffees in hand, setting them down on the table.

He shedded his jacket and carefully placed it on the back of the chair before sitting down in the chair opposite you. This simple action caused the fact that you barely knew Andrew to pop up in your head. Despite how connected to him you felt already, you had only met him twice before. On both occasions he wore long sleeves, so seeing him without a jacket for the first time gave you a much appreciated surprise.

His right arm had an entire sleeve of tattoos.

He had turned his arm into a mural for myths and legends. A portrait of a falling Icarus, wings disintegrating beneath a red sun. A tortured Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his back. Dante and Virgil arm in arm wandering through a circle of hell. Writing in script filled the empty space, seemingly verses from poems. It was all centered around two words placed across his bicep: Noli Timere. You’d be lying if you said it didn't make you even more attracted to him than you already were.

You could've spent hours just looking, analyzing every line of ink. It felt as though you did, though it's much more likely it was only for a few seconds. You were brought back to Earth by the sound of his voice.

“It's rude to stare, y’know?”

There was no real annoyance in his voice, but it caused you to attention like you had been caught. An explanation mumbled its way out of your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, I just- I like your arm. Tattoos. Your arm tattoos. They're…”

Beautiful? Enticing? Very attractive?

“…cool.”

You took a sip of your coffee, finding it the perfect time to cover up your embarrassment, as well as the flushed face that came along with it. Luckily, Andrew didn't notice (or if he did, he didn't mind) and continued the conversation, accepting your compliment with a crooked smile.

“Thanks. I try to put a lot of thought into them, give them some meaning, so they're all based on these stories that are important to me.”

“Makes sense. I’d hate to get a tattoo just to regret it a few years later. Even worse, a few months later.”

“Too many of my clients have had that exact issue. Come in a year after and ask for a coverup. Makes me question my work sometimes.”

“Clients?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“Oh, right. I never mentioned it.” He paused to take a drink from his cup before continuing. “I’m a tattoo artist. The parlor I work at’s only a few blocks away from your shop, believe it or not.”

“Wow. Small world, I suppose. Maybe I could stop by someday and say hi.”

The boldness of your statement didn't fully process in your brain, and you quickly backtracked.

“If you’d be okay with that, of course.”

“Yes. Absolutely. You can come by whenever I don't have a client.”

“Call me over if anyone gets a tattoo of a flower and I’ll be there to explain everything it means. There is always the very dangerous possibility of someone getting a flower that means jealousy or a rejection.”

He didn’t reply, just flashed a smile, and the silence between you seemed… awkward. Combined with the way he was fidgeting with his hands, it almost made you think he was nervous.

“I’m actually thinking about buying a bouquet to put on the front desk,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. A lot of people, they get nervous before their appointment, whether it's their first tattoo or their tenth. Having flowers right when you walk in might ease some of the tension.”

“That's a great idea. I know I’m biased, but flowers do tend to brighten my day."

“Do you have any ideas?”

You bit at your bottom lip as you thought, finally speaking again once you racked your brain for what could work.

“Chrysanthemums are a favorite with customers. Those mean joy and optimism. I could start with those and build from there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“That's all I’ve got right now, but I’ll see what else I can come up with later. After coffee, I’m much more… insightful.”

As if to prove your point, you took another sip of your coffee, a longer one that left only a quarter of the cup left.

“So… this is official? You're placing an order?”

He nodded.

“If that's how this works, then yes. I’d like to place an order of one chrysanthemum bouquet for the purpose of making my customers happy. Please,” he replied genuinely.

“Your order will be marked down as soon as I get to the shop.”

“Feel free to take your time, by the way. I don't mean to pressure you. It's not like I have a deadline, and I know you probably have a million other things you have to do.”

You considered reaching for him, your fingertips flexing in his direction, but you restrained yourself, choosing words instead.

“You're not pressuring me at all. You made your order. Now you're asking me to do my job. My job that I love, by the way. If anything, I’m thrilled that you're so interested.”

The real question is whether you're more interested in my job or me.

You weren't bold enough to say what you were thinking, but you never had been. You had gotten so used to biting your tongue it was a miracle it was still in your mouth. You spoke again, but selected a much safer option of what to say.

“It's gonna take a few days since there's some orders before yours, but I have your number on file so I’ll call you when I finish it up.”

“I’ll be there. With my wallet, this time around.”

You thought about your proposition before realizing there would be a much more effective, though maybe you just wanted to visit Andrew’s job for a change.

“I mean, you said your place is only a few minutes away, right? I could always deliver it. Gives me an opportunity to get some fresh air during my day. Besides, you're probably much busier than I am, so it might be harder to find the time. Meanwhile, I can deliver it as soon as it's done, and everything works out.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know. I want to, though.”

He sighed and shook his head, a reaction you originally feared was out of annoyance, but you felt a small amount of relief when you noticed the smile that accompanied it.

“You need to stop doing nice things for me. Otherwise I’ll go bankrupt from buying you so much coffee to compensate.”

“I also accept gratitude payment in compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks.”

“What about credit cards?”

“Ooo, sorry. Compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks are your options.”

He chuckled, a deeper and richer laugh than before.

“Fine. You want a compliment? You're incredibly kind for doing all of this for me, and I sincerely appreciate it. Thank you.”

Another sip from your cup to hide the flush of your cheeks, though no amount of caffeine could calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“That covers your gratitude payment for now. I still need real money, of course,” you muttered. “And you're not getting your way out of it this time.”

“I would never. You can't pull the same con on the same person twice.”

“Oh, so it was a con? Did those flowers even go to your mother?”

“Nope. Underground flower smuggling ring.”

“Ah, I should've guessed. Tell your flower-loving crime boss that I’m thankful for all that you've done for me, but I unfortunately need to get going, because it's 9:30 and the shop opens at 10.”

Andrew complied. You two wrapped it up, and he put his jacket back on, covering up his tattoos much to your dismay. Your coffee cup, now empty, was discarded by the door.

“Thank you so much. For the coffee, for the company. Everything. Especially for the coffee, though, considering you barely even drank yours,” you commented, pointing at the half-full cup still in his hand.

“You’re welcome. And trust me, I was going to drink it, but I found myself much more engrossed in the conversation.”

Andrew grabbed the door and held it open for you, and you walked past him and thanked him. Both of you stood on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, unsure of how (or if you even wanted) to say goodbye.

“This is where we must part ways,” he said with a sigh.

“You say that like we're never going to see each other again.”

“A lot can happen in a few days, Y/N. You have no idea what the universe has up her sleeve.”

“Do you have some kind of knowledge about an apocalypse that I don't? Because when it comes to that kind of stuff, sharing is caring.”

“Just… prepping for the future, I suppose. If there is no apocalypse, I’ll see you when my bouquet’s finished.”

“I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

You walked to your car, only a few footsteps away, the smile slowly fading from your face as he walked in the opposite direction. You sneaked a glance over your shoulder at him before opening the car door.

Sitting down in the driver's seat, you took a deep breath to bring yourself back to reality. Your mantra had been proven right: that was not a date. It just felt like one. A very successful one at that. He was a gentleman, listened to what you had to say, gave you a compliment, and you even set up an incentive to meet again. This not-a-date went better than most of your actual dates, and it was with a guy who, to your knowledge, had no romantic interest in you.

You were totally and utterly screwed.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier fanfic #fanfic #hozier fanfiction #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #divider #to share the space with simple living things

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hazzabeeforlou · 10 months ago

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i had a question and i hope that it doesn’t sound rude. do you feel ashamed being in the fandom and being a shipper at 32? i ask because i am 27, and have been in the fandom since 2012, off and on. i haven’t rly been in it actively for the last two years or so, but when i want to come back, i feel embarrassed. i also don’t think i could handle the stress of it tbh! lol. i hope you are well <3

I was going to answer this yesterday but then remembered I had a 7 hour drive today and didn’t want to stay up later than I already was. Because I’m an adult, with (now one) previous multiple jobs, a pet, rent, vehicle, three post high school diplomas, and student loans, and there are many things in my life I get ashamed of, like when I answer “you too” when a cashier tells me thanks for shopping or when I let a whole bag of celery go bad in my fridge without ever cleaning or eating it. Shame? At my tax dollars funding death weapons and family members voting for strong men? Sure. Latent homophobic internalized shame from my upbringing? Yeah, sometimes.

But life is too fucking short to be embarrassed or hold shame about a FANDOM. Listen, I “ship” Johnlock, or Merthur, but Larry wasn’t a ship for me it was a discovery of queer joy. Like I’m so sorry but baby Larry was real. 100%, actually, seriously legit, like how else do you fucking explain any or all of that. We watched two boys fall in love with each other and okay we don’t know the devil or the details but we have how many albums and interviews, jokes made by media personalities etc, plus the fact that now, this many years later, their solo stuff is still haunted by a nauseating back and forth, these odd lyrical choices that are echoed in the other?

Yeah it’s not a ship. It’s a thing that happened, that we witnessed, and by virtue of it happening and us witnessing it something about gay love became dreamable, reachable, attainable, soft and puppy and exciting and wild. Their secret sign language and mimed blow jobs and jealous looks and touches when they thought there were no cameras, all those things made queerness not just something you saw on Glee. Not just something your parents talked about while wrinkling their nose up about ‘those people.’ It’s a generational thing, the world has moved on, we don’t NEED Larry anymore. And that’s okay. But we don’t need it because it happened. Not to be a brat but you exist in the context of all in which you live and what came before you.

And yeah, we wrote fics about highly characterized and publicized versions of Larry, often inserting our own traumas or fantasies, creating a kind of gay mythos around this witnessed event from the periphery, from the lens of the consumer, the only lens we have. But I’m not ashamed of that. You think stories are only ever written about people that don’t exist? At some point you have to acknowledge that in our world, celebrities are the deities of our popular imagination. I could write a thesis, but before I get into the weeds, suffice to say Harry and Louis have created a world of what can be, unburdened by what has been.

Yk? Anyways. Hope this made you feel better. And hope you come back to visit from time to time. I’ll be here.

#Anonymous #larry #harry and louis

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cutiibee · 2 months ago

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An Armoured Ghost

a mandolorian!Simon Riley x fem!reader fic

MDNI

Chapter Two - Birdie

Cw: Simon eats user out but it's not well written bc I suck at smut xo!

For most of the night, you sit beside him in silence. You don't know if he's more talkative around those he knows, but he's got his voice under lock and key.

You practically ache to hear it again. The delicious way it curled around your spine, sent shivers straight downwards. It's perfect for him, so scary like the rest of him.

You've tucked yourself up into the chair completely, considering it was surprisingly big and comfortable.

You aren't sure what to call him and the thought keeps prodding at you like a mad scientist torturing an experiment.

You let your voice cut through the whooshing of the movement of the ship.

“What's your name?”

He doesn't answer for so long you think he might be asleep. Then, finally his voice grates through the modulator.

“Ghost.”

You want to inquire more, but you don't. You aren't exactly eager to upset this hulking man. He could probably snap you in two like a stalk of celery.

Oddly enough, that idea heats you up. You press your thighs together, and it's just your luck his helmet turns your way as you do.

He tilts it slowly. Inch by inch. You feel him watching you through the visor.

“Something wrong, birdie?” He quips after the moment of silence has stretched unbearably long between the two of you.

“No.” It's too quick, an obvious lie. Though somehow you're certain he can see through the very best of lies. And maybe that helmet is letting him see right into your mind, into your flurried thoughts.

“I'll make it better.”

You could sink out of your chair and suck him off on the metal flooring, his voice is so beautiful. Even slightly filtered and hollow, it makes your knees weak.

“Make it better?” You whisper out his words back to him. You don't know what he means. Butterflies are dancing the tango in your lower tummy, which is steadily heating up.

“Mm. Close your eyes.” He instructs and immediately your eyelids have sunk shut, the last thing you see is the skull painted onto his helmet.

For a while there's nothing. Then an amused chuckle, and you jolt because it's right next to your head. Breath, warm breath, puffs against your ear and your eyes nearly fly open on instinct.

Before they can, a gloved palm settles over them. And then you're moving, bring tugged down the chair so that your ass is at the very edge of the seat and your legs hang off.

“Poor thing, all hot ‘n’ aching for it.” He crooned and you swear you cum in your pants at the sound of his unfiltered voice. It's somehow even better, so deep and rich and gives you a heady euphoric feeling.

“Ghost-” you choke his name out. It can't be his real name, but that doesn't matter because he's pulling down your pants and panties and you can't fucking breathe.

Then his mouth closes over your clit and you gasp in so harshly you see stars inside your shut eyes. Your hips jerk up against his mouth. You feel him smile against you, his teeth grazing you gently.

You nearly sob out his name. He takes that as his go ahead and plunges his tongue deep inside of you. You swear you black out. You're soaking the seat beneath you but you don't think he cares.

It's sloppy, disgusting the way he eats you out. You cum three times before his mouth leaves you, and even then you whine, hoping he'll return. His hand drops and there he is, or there his helmet is, back in place.

“Clean yourself up. Nearly morning.” He grunts the words out like he didn't just have you sobbing in his tongue.

With shaky legs you pull your pants back on and climb back down the ladder. The fresher is small but it's enough. You wipe yourself down and shiver at the friction against your still-weeping cunt.

You honestly can't fully register it all. You're his bounty. He's going to freeze you soon and then you'll never see him again.

And he just ate you out for nearly an hour.

You look at yourself in the little mirror. Your face is flushed, hair a little messed up. You give yourself a smile. It slowly drops.

The debt you racked up over the course of three years still hung over you. It was like a dark stormcloud, as cliche as that was.

Everything you'd sacrificed for your father. The long nights working in a shitty retail store. The double shifts and cheap coffees.

You didn't blame him for dying, no. You couldn't do that. But now all that debt felt like it was for nothing.

You're sure the loan shark is going to kill you. That's why you'd gone drinking. Getting totally hammered had seemed like a better option than walking to your death sober. Though now the drinking you'd done had worn off and your mind was hazy for a different reason.

You step out of the fresher after trying to smooth your hair out of its mussed state.

You climb the ladder again, this time with much more ease.

Ghost is back in the pilot's seat, facing forward.

“Could I nap until morning?” You ask, fiddling with your hands, unsure of what to do with them.

“Take the bed. I'll wake you in a few hours. ‘S next to the fresher.” He added without once moving his head.

Now that you've heard his voice clearly, hearing it come through the modulator is nearly painful.

“Thank you.” You tell him. You can't read him, not very well. Maybe he's smiling beneath his mask. He doesn't say anything in response, so you turn back around.

And Maker, the bed isn't terrible. It's big, wide enough for him to fit. And even though you can feel the metal bars that hold it up, you're out like a light within twenty minutes.

#fanfic #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod #ghost cod #mando #the mandalorian #{beewrites}#AAG-BEE

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lunammoon · 1 year ago

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ANOTHER ONE!!!! IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS?????? OH YOU ARE A GEM!!!!

Marion is in my head and on my heart this week. @lunammoon

#celery art #clsfaoqfc #i love her expression and her body language #in general i adore how you draw Marion #and it's been so cool to see how your art has evolved since you first tagged me in that tik tok back in like 2021 #hey if you're reading this and you like my fic and you aren't following op you should fix that stat!

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asumofwords · 2 years ago

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The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Well hello there my babies, hehe here is the little mini series I have begun for a modern!Aemond roommate AU. I'm super excited to explore this side of things as I have mostly been putting my focus into SFA. Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Hehe, slowish burn too <3 Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Christmas Beetle

The key scratched against the metal of the lock, your hand turning it as you opened the door to your flat, the smell of cooking curling around you as you stepped inside. From the kitchen you could hear your roommate Helaena humming to the music that played out of your speaker.

“Hel!” You called out, dropping your keys into the dish by the door, toeing your shoes off as you moved inside the apartment.

“In here!” Helaena sang back.

You moved your way down the hall, dropping your bag on the dining room table as you moved towards the kitchen.

Helaena stood barefooted in a singlet and pair of matching underwear. Her long silver hair piled atop her head, held together by a large butterfly clip.

“Whatcha cooking, good looking?” You asked, walking up behind Helaena who reached out to turn down the speaker that was currently playing Lana Del Reys ‘West Coast’.

Helaena turned her head, small silver butterfly earrings dangling from her ears, “Bolognese!”

The room smelt of cooking onion and tomato, and you breathed in deeply as she reached forward to put in some cut up carrots and celery inside of the ceramic large pot.

“Yum. God I love you.” You sighed, leaning back against the counter as you watched her stir in the ingredients, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Absolutely nothing.” She grinned, reaching forward for the salt, sprinkling it atop, “Who else would feed you if I didn’t?”

“Hey! I can cook.” You frowned.

Helaena laughed loudly, “Mi Goreng doesn’t count.”

“I’ll have you know I can cook more than that.” You crossed your arms around your chest as you kicked a foot out to hit her shin softly.

Helaena jumped back, “Don’t be mean to the chef or you won’t get anything.”

You bowed, arm out in a dramatic flair, “Apologies, Your Grace.”

“Cut it out.” She pouted, “How was work?”

Hopping up on the counter, you groaned, “Don’t get me started. Larys was on my ass the whole day. Remind me why I work there again?”

“Because you need the money, and I got you the job.”

“It wasn’t just you that got me the job.” You grunted, “I have a great resume.”

“Of course you do.”

Tossing your head back against the cabinets you looks at the cream ceiling, “Ugh, how do you deal with Larys at all? He’s such a fucking creep. I swear he is always looking at me with those beady little eyes. You know the only time he has ever been nice to me was when he complimented my new shoes.” You scrunched your nose up at the thought.

Your boss Larys Strong was a man who made your skin crawl. Lanky, with a crooked build, the brunette man always had a way of getting under your skin, and you could always feel his eyes on you when you worked in the office. He hovered around other workers, asking personal questions and prying into everyone else’s personal lives, and yet you knew next to nothing about the man. A complete energy vampire.

“I’m sure he’s not that bad. Mum hasn’t said anything about him and she works with him.” Helaena pointed out, bringing the spoon to her lips to try to sauce. She hummed loudly as she dipped it again, hand beneath it as she offered you a try.

You leant forward blowing on the spoon softly as steamed poured off of it, “Yeah, but your mum isn’t the most observant person, Hel.” You sucked the sauce into your mouth, eyes closing as you moaned loudly, “Oh my god. This is heaven. If you weren’t my best friend I would marry you.”

Helaena blushed and took the spoon back from you, swatting your thigh on the bench, “That ship has sailed.”

You laughed loudly at the memory, “How was I supposed to know you were hitting on me? You said I looked like a Christmas beetle.”

“Christmas beetles are beautiful.” Helaena said indignantly, “They have many different colours and shades, and in the sun they glow.”

“Don’t you go soft on me, Hely.” You teased, kicking your legs against the cabinet with a thunk, “Besides, you can’t butter me up with this home cooked meal no matter how good it is. I can’t believe you’re leaving me here alone.” You whined, throwing your head back, “And on break too!”

“Life is a cruel mistress.” She mocked you, “You won’t even notice I’m gone." A pale hand waved itself at you in the air in dismissal, "It’s only for the month, maybe even less than that. You know I have to go see Daeron, he’s been studying at Old Town all by himself, the poor thing.”

“Yeah well, not all of us can get into the prestigious Old Town University.” You huffed, “And I will notice you’re gone, who will cook me dinner?”

“I thought you said you could cook.”

“Hel, you wound me.” You grabbed the front of your shirt above your heart dramatically.

Helaena snorted, “Suck it up. Besides, my brother is going to sublet the room for the month so you won’t be alone.”

“Hel,” You whispered, head tilted in uncertainty, “Please don’t tell me Aegon is moving in. I love you, you know this, but your brother is a sex pest. Last time he came over he called me a Gazelle.”

“A Gazelle?”

“Said I have long legs.” You grimaced.

“Ugh. Gross. He is such a manwhore.” You hummed in agreement as Helaena scrunched her face up, mouth open in disgust, “But no, Aemond is going to sublet the room.”

“Hel, that isn’t any better. Aemond?” You began, leaning forward as you looked at her uneasily, “'Can’t pry a word out of the man', Aemond? 'Messy break up with his crazy ex', Aemond? Hel are you punishing me?”

“Be nice.” She slapped your arm, adding fresh basil into the pot that simmered gently, “Aemond is sweet once you get to know him. He’s just shy.”

“The last time I spoke to him, I asked him how his day was and he just hummed at me. He hummed.”

Helaena laughed.

“It’s not funny, Hel! Who the hell just hums like that?”

A small laugh floated through her nose, “Look, Aemond was the only one I could get to sublet the room in such short notice. Especially someone I trust. Plus, he needs to get away from Harrenhal and move back to Kings Landing. Alys has really done a number on him, and I think if he gets some time away from her he will see it’s better that way.”

“Can't you ask your mum to cover the rent? You’re not exactly scraping by.”

The Targaryens were richer than most, descended from ancient royalty, even owning an island called Dragonstone, a short boat ride away from shore, where a large fortress sat atop. Helaena would sometimes go for the summer to see her cousins, and had even taken you one year.

“I don’t want anything to do with the family money. When I moved out, I made a promise to myself that I would make it on my own.”

You sighed, smiling at your best friend. She really was one of a kind, willing to go above and beyond for her friends and not freeloading from her generational wealth like her brothers did, “You’re a good person, Hel. But you’re putting my head on the chopping block.”

“Mm.”

“Not you too.” You whined.

“Better get used to it," She grinned, enjoying your distress, "Aemond will be moving into my room at the end of the week. So I expect you to behave yourself while I’m away and be nice to him.”

You gasped in mock offence, “I’m always nice!”

Helaena gave you a pointed look.

“Okay, well fine. I’ll be on my best behaviour for you.” You hopped off the counter, and put a hand on your chest and one in the air, “Scouts honour.”

“You weren’t a scout.”

“Never too late.” You grinned.

Helaena scrunched her nose at you, “You’re so annoying. Go shower, you stink.”

“I do not!” You said indignantly, turning your head to your shoulder to smell yourself.

“Well, there’s too many chefs in the kitchen and I want to have an everything shower tonight.”

You opened your mouth in mock surprise as you looked at her, a soft gasp leaving your lips. You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at your best friend, “And who are you shaving for?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her.

Helaena blushed, “No one.”

“No.” You said in disbelief.

“Y/n-“

“Please tell me you’re not.”

Silence.

“Are you seeing Sara again?”

Helaena looked so sheepish as she went back to stirring the dinner, you moved to stand behind her, resting your head on her shin from behind as you watched her cook, “Hel, what are you hiding from me?”

“Go away, you big gnat.”

“I thought I was a Christmas beetle?”

“I’ve changed my mind. Plus you’re one to talk, I saw Cregan’s car out the front the other day as I left for work.” Helaena snipped, flustered and cheeks completely red. Her neck speckled with a blush that rose up from her chest.

“Glass houses. Besides, you can’t say the Starks aren’t scrummy.” You pinched her side and moved away from the kitchen, “I’m going to shower, and I’ll make sure to leave you some hot water so when Sara comes over tonight you’ll be all squeaky clean.” You teased.

“Shut it!”

The next morning you rose early to make yourself a cup of tea, you bumping into Sara on her way out of the house. The brunette was moving quickly out the door, hair knotted at the back of her head and lips blushed.

“Morning Sara.” You greeted her as she walked past you on the lounge, clearly not expecting to see you. You lifted your mug of tea up towards her in greeting and watched as her cheeks blushed a deeper red than the top she was wearing.

“Morning.” She responded, “Sorry, I’ve got an early class to get to.”

“Its Saturday.”

“Uh-” The Stark stuttered.

“And it’s break.”

“Oh, shut up." She smirked, "Tell my brother I said 'hi.'” Smile pulling downwards on her lips playfully.

You laughed softly in the quiet of the room, and bid her a goodbye.

Sara and Helaena had been on and off for longer than you had known Helaena, and was actually how you met Cregan. Sara had set it up after a night of drinking together, and Helaena had only encouraged you to ‘let your freak fly’.

Cregan was amazing. Tall, kind, smart and with a handsomeness that only Northerners had, with these dark brown eyes that you could get lost in.

But in saying that, you weren’t compatible in anything other than sex or casual friendship. You had been sleeping together for a few months when he wanted more, and you weren’t ready for that. And so you had ended the little tryst that you had, and parted on good terms. Amicable terms.

For a while, the two of you hadn’t spoken, letting Cregan have space from you to process what had happened, but eventually you had received a text to meet up for a coffee one day, and decided you were better off being friends.

Who fucked.

Occasionally.

Helaena exited her room shortly after, her silver hair messy and wearing an oversized t-shirt that hung to her mid thighs, a large centipede with a hat on the front.

“Good morning sleepy head.” You sang to her, watching as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Why are you up so early?” She grumbled, clearly not having gotten much sleep.

“There’s an antique market down in the square and I thought we could go and get some trinkets.” You smiled, watching as her eyes came alight.

“Trinketville.” She spoke in a high pitched voice.

“Yup!”

Shuffling her feet towards you, she leant over the back of the couch, “When does it start?”

“Started around 7.” You grabbed your phone to look at the screen, “It’s only 8:40, so if you quickly get dressed I can drive us down and get us a park.”

“Yay!” Helaena chirped, spinning back into her room suddenly alive.

As she walked away you called out to her, “Saw Sara sneak out.”

“Huh?” Helaena yelled back.

“I saw Sara this morning!”

Helaena stuck her head out from the door, hiding her naked body behind its frame, cheeks tinged pink, “Please don’t tell me you said anything.” She winced.

“I just said good morning.” You said coyly, watching as Helaena sighed in exacerbation before going back into her room.

“You know,” You called out, standing to put your mug in the dishwasher, “You don’t have to hide her in your room. I don’t hide Cregan.”

Helaena stepped out wearing a pair of pale denim overalls, and a soft yellow shirt underneath, socks and doc martins in hand, “Yeah well, you haven’t dated Cregan.”

“I mean we kind of did.” You shrugged, leaning against the side of the couch as she sat at the small dining table to put her shoes and socks on.

“Fucking him on the couch doesn’t count as dating.”

It was your time to blush, “Close enough.”

Helaena snorted, lacing up her boots, “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” She eyed you up and down, one brow raised.

You looked down at yourself. You were in an old busted t-shirt which had far too many holes to make it physically sound, and beneath you wore some old track pants and slides.

“Whats wrong with what I’m wearing?” You asked, offence in your tone.

“What’s right with it?” Helaena grimaced, “Go get actually dressed you slob. What if there’s someone cute at the markets?”

“I will have no time for cuties as I will be too lost in the joys of finding the ultimate trinkets for my collection.” You sniffed, raising your chin in defiance.

“Borderline hoarding at this point.”

You gasped, “Hey! Says you Miss Insects.”

“Go get dressed,” Helaena insisted leaving no room for argument, “Then we will head out. Do you think they’ll have coffee?”

You laughed, “Yeah, there should be a truck.”

When you were dressed and ready, you drove yourself and Helaena down to the markets, already full of people and bursting with life.

Many people brought their dogs with them and to your delight, an old man people called Maester Orwyle was seen walking his white Persian cat inside of a pram. The cat sat with her paws crossed in front of her as she watched everyone walking past, the occasional hiss given to the dogs that passed her or children who got too close.

Helaena giggled loudly as you both passed it, moving to look at another antique jewellery stand, Helaena’s eyes immediately spotting a small, gold, dragonfly pin. Its wings had emeralds on its tips and a larger one as its head.

She held the pin in her hand, uncertain if she should get it or not, the old man behind the table trying to sell it to her.

“It’s real gold, 14 karats. Real emeralds too. A pretty broach for a pretty girl.”

Helaena smiled politely though you knew she wished to move away.

“Come on Hel, when will you ever find something like that again?” You encouraged her. Her lip was caught between her teeth as she thought.

Looking up at the greying man behind the table, you asked for the price, “How much?”

“$70.” The man replied.

Helaena moved to put the pin back down, “It’s too expensive.” She said quietly.

“Nonsense.” You whispered back. “I’ll give you forty for it.” You looked at the man.

“Forty is too low. I’ll do sixty.”

“Fifty.” You counted.

“Y/n.” Helaena hissed.

The old man hummed as he look at the two of you before he nodded, “Fifty then.”

You looked at Helaena triumphantly and watched as she sheepishly gave the man the money, clutching the pin in her hand as the two of you walked away.

“I hate when you do that. It's so embarrassing. You’re like my grandpa.”

“Did you just compare me to Otto?” You grimaced, remembering your interactions with the stiff older man. He was rather cold, and barely spoke a word to you unless to correct you, but he would brighten up when speaking to Helaena considerably.

“You leave him alone, he’s old.”

You hummed in response.

“You’ll get along with Aemond just fine if you keep that up.” Helaena teased and you stuck your tongue out at her, moving to look at some old books.

You picked up an old heavy leather book, which looked to have been buried in dust. You opened the cover gently and looked at the front page. Your eyes widened.

“Helaena!” You hissed, grabbing her to your side as you looked down at the book in your hand, “This is a First Edition.” You quietly whispered.

“Looks like the worst edition.” She giggled and you elbowed her in the side.

“Seriously Hel, these are so hard to come across! It’s ‘The Lovers of Queen Nymeria’ too, this is like old old.” You explained, excitement racing through your veins, “These are seriously hard to get a hold of!”

“God, you and Aemond are the same. I swear my dad had that in his library.”

You snorted, “Yeah, well, not all of us come from royalty, Hel. I come from a long line of peasants, which I-“

“Oh, cut it out.” She griped.

You let yourself laugh, holding the book in your hands in wonder, “They’re probably asking for hundreds for this. God, I can’t believe I’m even able to touch it right now!”

Helaena looked up at the young man who had the stall, “Excuse me, could you please tell us the price of this book?”

“Hel, it’ll be way out of my price range.” You sighed quietly.

The man turned and came over, looking at the book in your hands, “I’ll give it to you for $20.” He said with disinterest, looking at the worn cover.

“$20?!” You said in disbelief, shock crawling through you.

“We’ll take it!” Helaena responded quickly, handing he man $20 from her small silver purse.

“Hel, I’m paying for it.”

“Nope!” She popped the ‘p’ as you moved away, holding the book in your hands in shock. “This is my gift to you, plus you saved me the money for the pin, aaaand you can take it as me buttering you up because mumboughtmeanearlierflight.” The last part of her sentance was speedily blurted as she turned to look at you, offering you a remorseful smile.

“You bitch.” You narrowed your eyes at her, “You’re lucky I love you.”

You walked side by side, looking at the rest of the stalls, finding some fun little things before the two of you decided to go home, exhausted from walking around in the hot sun for hours.

When you arrived back at the apartment, Helaena slumped onto the couch the two of you had found on the street years back. It was a light brown velvet, with dark wood detailing. An absolute classic.

The silver haired girl sighed, tugging her bag onto her lap as she begun to line up her buys of the day on the table.

You joined her, placing your book on the table followed by a small, vintage, golden mirror and a large candle holder for your room. Helaena had bought her pin, a small blue skirt with little green beetles on it, as well as a large framed Luna Moth.

You let your head drop to her shoulder, “I’m going to miss you.” You whined, tapping your head onto the bone of her shoulder.

“You big baby, I’ll be back in no time.”

“But you’re leaving me on breaaaak. What about all the hotties we were going to pick up at the bars?”

Helaena laughed loudly as she rested her head against the top of yours, “Plenty of time to do that when I get back.”

You grunted, “Don’t act like you didn’t tell me you are leaving earlier. You said end of the week.” You pulled away and looked at her with your eyes narrowed, “When are you leaving now?”

“Tomorrow.” Helaena sighed.

“Tomorrow?! What!”

Helaena began to fiddle with her hands in her lap, her pale fingers picking at the skin at her nails. You watched as Helaena became quiet, shut in, and a sudden wave of anxiety moved through you.

“Hel, what’s wrong? Has Sara done something?” You questioned, head dipping to try and catch her eyes.

“Dads sick.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at her, “Has he gotten worse?” You asked softly.

Helaena’s dad had been sick for a long time, when you had met her she was worried, but knew there was nothing that she could do. Her visits to her family home back then were frequent, but as time went on, her visits became less, and she had assured you that his team of carers and her mother could handle it.

“It’s not good.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” She gave you a sad smile, “It was going to happen one day or another. Mum wants us to go back to see them at the Keep, so I’m going to Daeron’s to get him and we will go together.”

“But what about Aemond? Will he be going with you?”

Helaena let out a quiet breath, “Dad doesn’t have the best relationship with Aem and Egg. Pretty sure my sister will be at the Keep with my nephews, and well,” She paused, and you knew why, “You know Aem doesn’t have a good relationship with them.”

You remembered the day Helaena had told you about Aemond’s fight with Lucerys when they were kids and the accident. You had felt terrible hearing the news, but now understood why tensions in the family were so strained. Not to mention that Helaena’s sister Rhaenyra, from his first marriage, was largely favoured over his other three children.

But from all accounts that Helaena had told you, Rhaenyra was a lovely woman, and incredibly kind to her.

You grabbed Helaena’s hand and held it, “Let me know if you need me to come, yeah? Or need anything of me. I mean anything. You need me, I’ll be there.”

Helaena gave you a gentle smile as she nodded, “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. Maybe you could come to the Keep and stay a week or something once I'm settled.”

“Will that hunky Criston be there?” You waggled your eyebrows at her.

Helaena's face morphed into disgust, “Ewww. I don’t see what you see in him.”

“What? He’s hot, plus him being your mums bodyguard makes it so much hotter.”

“He’s not her bodyguard.” Helaena argued.

“Sure, then he just follows her around like a lost puppy and is paid to look pretty. Anyhow, when is Aemond coming since you go tomorrow?” You rested your head back against her shoulder, fiddling with her hand in her lap as you wiggled her fingers with yours.

“He said he’d be driving his old chevy Vhagar in, so who knows how long that will take. If it doesn’t break down on the way.” Helaena snickered.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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