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The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 1: Wrong Foot

Joel takes on a new contract as a bodyguard. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Non-consensual groping (not by Joel.) Mention of grief and child loss. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.1k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Two years later - September 2024

“You really want me for this one?” he asked as he rode up the elevator at the nicest hotel in Austin. Even after two years protecting wealthy assholes, Joel wasn’t used to shit like this. The fast elevators and the plush carpets and the trappings of wealth that provided everything his charges needed. Everything, it seemed, except safety.

For that, they needed him.

Protecting people, as it happened, was something Joel was good at. It almost surprised him how good he was at it. It forced him to be aware of what was happening around him for a change instead of just moving through the world like a ghost. It took that awareness for him to even realize just how dead he’d been in the years since the death of his daughter.

Usually, things went fine. Most often, he was shepherding tech or oil executives with inflated egos from business meeting to business meeting while they were in town and looking the other way when they cheated on their wives or put half his salary up their noses. Nothing ever happened with those assholes.

Occasionally, though, his job got interesting. Rabid fans tried to mob some pop star Joel had never heard of at a club on 6th Street once and he had to carry her out, forcing his way through the crowd before she got crushed. Then there was the supermodel who was posing for photos with fans when one little college-aged fucker thought it would be smart to grab her ass to cop a feel. Joel took a little too much pleasure in punching him so hard that he fell to the floor, knocked clean out. The football player had been the biggest trouble, though. Some hotshot asshole who’d just won the Super Bowl coming back to his college town to party. He picked a fight with the wrong drug dealer and damn near got shot for it, Joel whisking him away and getting winged in the shoulder by the bullet for his trouble.

He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he liked when the work got dicey. Being shot at was the closest to alive Joel has felt in years. Getting to lay out some asshole without the cops trying to arrest him for it had been the highlight of his month. It made him very good at his job and he liked that, both things that surprised him.

“You’re my best guy,” Tommy said. “You’ve seen more action on this job than almost any of the other guards and they want someone with a good history. Plus you don’t give a shit about… higher profile clientele. I can’t put fuckin’ James on a job with someone he knows, he’ll fan boy over ‘em. Remember when that one band came through?”

“Jesus,” Joel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been an easy job but it was one that he’d had to do most of the work on, James practically giddy the entire time. “Yeah, you’re right. So, what, this some pop star or somethin’?”

“Not sure,” Tommy said. “They’ve been playin’ it real close to the chest, won’t ID ‘em until we sign an NDA.”

“So you got no idea what we’re workin’ with,” Joel said, grinding his teeth.

“Just that it’s someone people know,” Tommy said. “Long term contract, real good money. They mentioned a stalker, they’re bringing all the information along on that to review, wanted you to see it before we signed on.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Well,” he said. “Least it’ll be interesting.”

They made it to the top floor of the hotel, only four doors and Joel fought the urge to laugh. God, this breed of rich asshole was a whole new level.

Tommy led the way to a door labeled Presidential Suite and knocked, a young woman with close cropped dark hair and a headphone in her ear answered the door.

“One second,” she said, tapping her headphone before she smiled at the two men. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Miller. My boss prefers to have people come to where she is when she travels, I’m sure you can understand…”

“Of course,” Tommy said. “Happy to go wherever you need.”

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, leading the way into a hotel suite that had to be damn near the size of Joel’s entire house. “Coffee? Water? Tea? Also have a variety of Coke I think you call it here if you’d like that.”

“Water’s fine,” Tommy said.

“Still, sparkling?” She asked. “Also have cucumber, lemon, mint…”

“Uh,” Tommy blinked for a moment and Joel fought the urge to laugh. “Still’s fine. None of that other stuff.”

She nodded before she looked to Joel, her brows raised.

“Coffee,” he said. “Black.”

“Of course,” she smiled, leading them to a sitting room and gesturing to a couch. “Quinn will be with you shortly.”

She disappeared and returned with their drinks, handing them to each of them with a smile before she tapped the headphone again.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost syrupy sweet as she went to another room. “I appreciate you waiting since you’re apparently so willing to try to fuck us over…”

Tommy’s eyes went wide and he looked at Joel, the conversation becoming almost silent as she closed the door behind her.

“Definitely ain’t from around here,” Joel said.

“Guess not,” Tommy said.

It wasn’t long - Joel only drank half the coffee which was far better than he was expecting it to be - when another door opened, a woman closer to his own age coming out, dressed in an expertly fitted gray suit, her dark hair in long, tiny braids that hung to her waist. Sarah had always liked hair like that, always begged Joel to let her get them. He wished he had whiskey for his coffee.

The woman was on the phone, too, but she was on speaker.

“I don’t care,” she said. “You know the deal and I’m not going to just sit here and pretend that you don’t because you decided today was the day to play fucking games. Call me when you want to handle shit like a fucking grown up.”

She hung up and sat heavily on the couch opposite them, the girl who answered the door almost scurrying into the room and hovering near the large coffee table. The woman in the suit - Quinn, Joel assumed - giving her a single nod and she rushed off, quickly returning with a bottle of water and several folios.

“Tommy,” Quinn smiled. “While it’s good to see you again, I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I’m looking forward to getting this settled so we can stop meeting like this.”

Tommy smiled back.

“Can’t say I disagree,” he said. “Wanted you to have the chance to meet Joel, he’ll be the lead on this contract assuming we go ahead. He’s one of my best guys, got the history you asked for…”

“I’m sure being your brother doesn’t hurt,” she smiled a little. Joel raised his eyebrows and looked to Tommy but she answered his unspoken question. “We pulled backgrounds for everyone on your payroll. We can’t be too careful.”

She tossed one of the leather folios on the table.

“This is what we’re up against,” she said. “Redacted, of course, so you can’t ascertain who my client is but you’ll have access to the full versions should you accept the contract and sign the necessary NDAs. We’ve naturally brought them to the police and they believe the threat is credible. They have a lot of information - some of these were sent to my client’s private residence, for example - and it’s clear they’ve seen my client in person numerous times. We have reason to believe they will follow my client wherever she goes and there is genuine concern for escalation…”

Tommy picked up the file and looked it over, nodding slowly, before passing a page off to Joel. It was the photo copy of a printed letter.

You were beautiful today in that green dress.

One day, you’ll come home to me. One day, I’ll make you see.

Joel passed the page back to Tommy.

“I can see why you’re concerned,” Tommy said, handing the folio back. “Don’t seem like anything we can’t handle. I think we’re alright to move forward with the contract as discussed…”

There was a knock at the door and the girl ran to go answer it, Quinn ignoring it completely.

“Excellent,” she said, grabbing another folio and passing it over. “This is the contract and the NDA, already reviewed by your legal team. We just require a wet signature.”

Tommy nodded, looking over the pages, anyway, and Joel was starting to wonder why he’d had to be trotted out like some kind of prize show pony just to sign some damn paperwork when there was a commotion at the door.

“This really isn’t necessary,” the girl was saying, her voice oddly pleading, the total opposite of how she’d been on the phone.

“Oh I’m sure Quinn won’t mind,” another voice - a new one but there was a tug of familiarity to it that set Joel’s teeth on edge - said. “I am her favorite client, after all.”

Quinn’s head snapped in the direction of the sound and, in a sweep of gauzy clothes and floral perfume, you were there.

Joel recognized you immediately, everything about you seeming to have been built to be remembered. The whole world remembered you, it had been years since he’d been able to escape you. The biggest movie star on the planet, helming major franchises and winning fucking Oscars, on the cover of gossip rags at the fucking grocery store and on billboards advertising perfume and on Saturday Night Live. In person, from the second you appeared, you were a force. Your face, your voice, the way you held yourself, no wonder he always noticed you when you were all around him. No wonder his daughter had been obsessed with you.

Your face was a poster on her wall, a picture where you had the slightest, confident smile on your lips but your eyes always seemed sad. You turned those eyes to him, ranging over him like you were taking stock and Joel’s heart stuttered before your gaze turned to Tommy and back to Quinn.

“So glad you got the meeting started without me,” you said, all saccharine sweetness, stepping over Joel’s legs and sitting down on the edge of the couch between him and Tommy. You crossed one elegant leg over the other - your pants ever so slightly sheer so Joel could just make out your thigh below the loose fabric - and leaned forward, taking Joel’s white china coffee cup off the table and helping yourself to a sip with a jingle of your bangles that were piled high on your wrists. You gave him a wink as you did, setting the cup back on its saucer before leaning onto your leg, your arms folded in front of you. “I’m sure the fact that I didn’t know it was happening has nothing to do with wanting to cut me out of the decision making for something that’s going to be apparently integral to my life over the next year.”

“I just don’t want to bog you down with petty things like this,” Quinn waved you off. “You have enough on your plate, that’s what you pay me for…”

“Oh I’m sure that’s all it is…”

Quinn leaned forward, too, meeting your steely gaze from across the table. The knowing smile that had been on her lips just a second earlier was gone. In its place was a no nonsense expression that Joel imagined carried her far when dealing with Hollywood assholes. She, it seemed, was done coddling you.

“The studios know,” she cut you off. “Someone at the police station leaked it. And they won’t insure you without higher levels of security, especially if you want to spend this much time outside LA. You want to keep working? You need security. At least until we get to the bottom of whoever is sending you letters.”

“Have you tried telling them how well the tickets will sell when I die?” You asked, brows raised. “I’m sure they’ll be champing at the bit then, especially now that they can just replace me with CGI for whatever isn’t in the can…”

“That’s not funny,” Quinn said sharply.

“Oh, come on. It was a little funny.”

She glared at you.

“Do you really want someone like that getting close to her?” She asked, her voice almost unsettlingly earnest and gentle. You almost deflated then, giving in. “It’s not safe, babe. I’m trying to keep you safe. It just so happens that it’s also in the studio’s best interest so you don’t have to foot the entire bill.”

“You must not have told them about the boost in ticket sales, then,” you said wryly. She rolled her eyes. “But fine. If you really think there’s a risk to her? I’ll do it.”

Joel wondered who this “her” was. Knowing movie stars, probably some tiny fucking dog you carried in your goddamn purse.

You looked to Joel for a moment, your gaze oddly cutting, like you were seeing through every part of him before turning your attention to Tommy.

“When does your contract begin then?”

Tommy glanced at Joel, almost asking if he was actually OK with this. Clearly, this wasn’t what Tommy had expected either. Joel gave a minute shrug.

“Tomorrow,” Tommy said, looking back to you. “Joel here will be your point man but you’ll also be working with a few other guys from my company. He’ll get you oriented tomorrow and we can work out a way to ensure your protection that’s minimally disruptive to your daily life.”

You scoffed.

“Something tells me having a wall of muscle follow me everywhere is going to disruptive,” you said. “But the studio says jump, we say how high, right?”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Quinn said.

“We all know who does,” you muttered darkly, getting to your feet. “Well, since all this was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, I think I’m done wasting my time here.”

You turned to Joel and he found himself in the unnatural position of looking up to someone, his jaw tight as you levied those exacting eyes on him again.

“See you in the morning,” you said, reaching down and helping yourself to another sip of his coffee with a wink before stepping over his legs and heading out the door in a whirl of soft perfume and flowing fabric. He looked back to the coffee cup. Your lipstick was on the rim.

Joel tried not to think about how you looked at him as Tommy finished up with the formalities, the conversation between his brother and Quinn a drone he couldn’t really make out over the noise in his head as his leg bounced impatiently.

When Tommy had looked at him just now, the silent request for permission, he should have bowed out. He should have said he didn’t want to put his life on the line for some spoiled fucking brat and gone home. But he hadn’t and he couldn’t back out of this now. It didn’t matter how much you made him think of his daughter. It didn’t matter how your eyes seemed to cut him to the quick. He owed Tommy. When he’d started in this business, he’d told his brother that he could do this work and sometimes that meant doing shit he wasn’t comfortable with. He would just have to live with that.

Eventually, Joel gave up on sitting still.

“Be downstairs,” he said gruffly to Tommy when the conversation with Quinn lulled for a moment. He didn’t wait for a response before going for the elevator, relieved that it as empty on the way down to the lobby as it had been on the way up.

But the ground floor of the hotel was not the quiet place it had been when Joel had arrived. Instead, there was a press of people just outside the doors, phones up and loud enough that he could hear them through the glass. He frowned for a moment before he realized what it was, the metal of your bangles catching the light as your arm rose above the crowd, a phone clutched in your hand as you took a selfie.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, stalking over toward the door.

At least, he thought, he wasn’t on duty until tomorrow. If you really wanted to handle shit that bad on your own? Fine by him.

The doorman held the door for him and Joel gave him a stiff nod as he tried to force his way from the building, but the press of people was becoming suffocating, every inch of sidewalk crammed tight.

“Can I get a selfie?”

“My girlfriend loves you, can you say hi to her on video?”

“Can I have an autograph?”

“Look, I’m happy to give you all whatever you want,” you said, voice friendly but still curt. “But I need a little room to breathe, OK? I’m not in a rush, we’ve got time, it’s…”

Someone from the outside edge of the crowd shoved forward, sending the press of people toward you, Joel tall enough that he could see how they tripped and jostled, sending you stumbling into the person at your back. You had to fight for the space to stand up again, the man you’d fallen into’s hand running up your side to your chest, cupping the underside of your breast as you tried to find a way to separate from him. If it wasn’t for the look on his face, Joel might have given him the benefit of the doubt. But his lecherous smile gave him away, and the thinly veiled look of disgust on your face told him you knew exactly what this man was trying.

Something that hadn’t existed much since Joel lost everything took over. It was rage, blind and violent and coursing through him sharp and heady. That rage didn’t give him a chance to really think, but then, it never had. Not when he was a kid and his dad was on some bender, not when he was some hotheaded teenager looking to pick a fight with a bully at school, not when he was at a bar and saw someone who could have killed his daughter. It was no different now as he practically dove into the crowd, forcing the group apart and not caring if people got pushed into the street or shoved to the ground.

“Move!” Joel yelled, not that it seemed to do much beyond warn people that he was coming for them. He reached you in a matter of seconds, towering over the man who’d decided to take advantage of your vulnerable position to grope you. The man - more of a kid, likely some student at UT who didn’t know his ass from hole in the ground - gaped up at him, his eyes wide and his hand still on your breast.

Joel took your arm and pulled you, roughly, away from his grip, tucking you behind him before refocusing on the kid in front of him.

“You think that shit’s funny?” Joel asked, his hand curling into a fist. “Touchin’ a woman without permission?”

“I was just…” he looked afraid and something inside Joel flared with pride at that. Look at what he could do, he thought, it looked like he was capable of something after all.

“Know what you were just,” Joel cut him off, mockingly, before grabbing him by his shirt and slamming him back into a marble pillar. The kids head smacked against it with sickening crack. “Do that shit again and I’ll bust your jaw.”

Joel released him and the kid slumped to the ground before he turned to find you, looking down at the kid with your mouth slightly open.

“C’mon,” Joel said, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him, ducking your head down low to ruin the picture for anyone who might be trying to take one. “Let’s go.”

He looked around, the crowd thinner now but all watching him.

“Move!” He roared again. This time, they listened, parting like the Red Sea as he ushered you quickly away, back into the hotel. He looked to the door man, trying not to glare at him too hard. “Those assholes don’t come inside, we clear?”

“Yes sir,” the man said quickly.

Joel looked to you next.

“Where’s your car?”

“Valet,” you said, your forehead in your hand. “I didn’t get a chance to even grab it yet, someone must have tipped off some fucking gossip blog that I was here…”

“Got the ticket?” Joel asked. You sighed and fished it out of your pocket and handed it over before Joel took it to the front desk and told them to have your car brought out back. He also got directions to the loading dock before going back to find you, in the same spot on the plush lobby couch, fingers laced together, elbows braced on your knees.

“C’mon,” Joel said, making you jump before looking up at him. “They’re bringing your car around back, we’ll get you out of here without those fuckers knowin’.”

You looked back down at the ground before giving a stiff nod.

“Thanks.” You got up and took a deep breath, raising your chin, an almost serene look on your face before looking to him. “Lead the way.”

He did as you asked, watching like a hawk for anyone who might be stupid enough to try to talk to you. But no one seemed to pay you any mind, even as the two of you cut through the dining room - closed between lunch and dinner service - and into the kitchen, where dozens of cooks were working to get set for the evening. They just ducked around the pair of you, sometimes giving Joel a dirty look for getting in their way, and then you were at the loading dock.

“Here,” Joel said, jumping down from the edge of it to the alley still damp from rain from the night before. He held his hands out to you. “I’ll help you down.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather do it myself,” you said. You were more cautious about it than Joel but you jumped down and landed lightly beside him, brushing your hands free of the dirt from the dock before crossing your arms tightly over your chest. Your jaw was tight, the only sign on your calm, uncommonly beautiful face that something might be wrong. Joel crossed his arms, too.

“You OK?” He asked after a moment.

You looked at him for a second, your brows raised ever so slightly.

“Fine,” you said after a moment before staring straight ahead again.

“You sure?” He asked. He wasn’t sure why he was pressing. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care.

“Yes,” you said and then you laughed once, sharply. “I mean, no, I’m not but what the fuck am I going to do about it? It’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

Joel ground his teeth.

“Shouldn’t be.”

“Regardless,” you shrugged, glancing at him again. “Thank you for your help. You didn’t have to do that and… Well, I appreciate it.”

“Sure,” he said as your car came around the corner. You dropped your arms before turning to face him.

“Looks like it’s you and me starting tomorrow,” you said. “I’m sure your boss will give you all the details but I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Joel,” he said after a moment. “Miller.”

You smiled, a small, almost hesitant one, the slightest upturn of your lips.

“Joel Miller,” you repeated back to him. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m…”

“Don’t need to tell me your name,” he said. “Pretty sure everyone on Earth knows your name.”

You laughed again in that same, humorless way as your car stopped beside you.

“Yeah,” you said. “I suppose they do. See you tomorrow, Joel.”

“See you tomorrow, ma’am.”

He watched you pull cash out of your pocket and smile more broadly at valet who was damn near gawking at you. You discreetly handed him the money as you shook his hand and Joel stayed there in the alley until he couldn’t see your car any more.

“Holy shit,” the valet said and Joel looked down at him. He had to be about 18 years old, still wet behind the ears. Probably had fucking posters of you up in his room that he jerked off to before he went to bed. He held up the cash. “She gave me 100 bucks!”

Joel looked down at him, making sure to draw himself to his full height.

“You gonna tell anyone we got her out this way?” He asked. The kid swallowed hard and shook his head. “Good.”

Joel tried not to grind his teeth as he went back inside to find his brother. He wished it wasn’t too late to back out of this. You, he thought, were going to be far more than he’d bargained for. He just hoped he was ready for it.

***

“I’m not wearing this.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Seriously dude?” You asked, incredulous. “Can’t you wait like… two days before picking a fight?”

“Have you seen this fucking thing?” Ellie’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she held up the hem of the blue plaid skirt that, you had to admit, looked sickeningly unnatural on your 14-year-old niece. “You could put a whole circus up this thing! And how am I supposed to kick someone’s ass in a fucking skirt?”

“First of all, language,” you said. She rolled her eyes. You ignored her. “Second of all, you shouldn’t be kicking anybody’s ass. Why are you starting your day thinking about ass kicking? You haven’t even met these kids yet, I highly doubt you’ll need to kick someone’s ass your first day.”

“I’d like to be able to kick someone’s ass if I need to,” she said, incredulous. “Come on. You know this is insane.”

You sighed as the doorbell rang and you checked your watch. 7 a.m. on the nose. Well, at least the man was prompt.

“Fine,” you sighed. “Run upstairs, put on something else…”

Ellie took off as Esmo, your household assistant, appeared next to you, Joel by her side.

“Morning,” he said, voice gruff. You looked him over quickly, a side arm at his belt on a pair of jeans that fit him entirely too well. You doubted they were tailored, either, they just fit him like that, the bastard. Just your luck that you’d get stuck with a bodyguard who was unnaturally good looking but also an asshole. “Thought we could get started with…”

“Sorry, that won’t work, things are a bit off the rails this morning,” you said to him quickly, not giving him a chance to respond before turning to Esmo.

“Do you still have the name of the uniform store?” You asked her. “If you do, can you see if they’re open? I think we’re going to need to stop for pants…”

“Yes ma’am,” she said, quickly pulling out her phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think to get pants, the requirements were very clear…”

“It’s not your fault,” you said quickly. Esmo had only been working for you for a few weeks and it felt like the two of you were still getting used to each other. She insisted on calling you ma’am. You insisted on doing too much for yourself. It was a delicate balance. “She’s just…”

“OK,” Ellie came thundering down the stairs in the same sweater with a button down shirt and tie but jeans instead of the skirt. “Ready!”

“Store opened at seven,” Esmo said, pocketing her phone. “I can take her and…”

“I want to do it,” you cut her off, catching a glimpse of Joel’s shocked expression out of the corner of your eye as you looked back to your niece. “Alright trouble maker, ready to go?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Girl,” you said. “Language, please!”

She made a face but made her way to the front door, anyway, her thumbs looped through the straps of her book bag and you turned to Joel, still surprised at just how large he was, even after being against him the day before.

“Assuming you’re along for the ride on this,” you said, jerking your head for the door. “But we gotta book it, with an extra stop we’re already not going to be early for her first day.”

He still had a look of almost shock on his face but he followed behind you as you grabbed your keys and wristlet from the bowl by the door, Ellie bouncing impatiently from foot to foot.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were excited,” you teased as you made you way to the Porsche SUV you’d gotten specifically to haul Ellie around. “Almost like you want to go to school instead of hanging out with me all day.”

“Spending time with old people does get… well, old,” she smirked, heading for the passenger seat but you stopped her.

“Absolutely not, you’re in back,” you said, jerking a thumb toward Joel - who still hadn’t spoken. “This man has a good foot on you, we’re not making him sit back there.”

“Ugh, fine,” she huffed but obeyed, throwing her book bag against the opposite door before clambering in as Joel went for the driver’s seat, holding out his hand for the keys. You gave him a look but he just raised his brow, his arm still extended expectantly.

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll let you follow me around like some guard dog but I’m keeping some last vestige of my autonomy. I’m driving.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“No.”

“And why not?” You asked. “Because you have control issues?”

“Do you know evasive driving tactics?” He asked. “How to watch for pursuers and safely out run them?”

“No, but I did my own stunt driving for the Fast Track franchise,” you said wryly. “Think I’ll be fine. Now move, you’re making us late.”

He ground his teeth.

“We’re talkin’ about this,” he muttered before stalking off to the passenger side of the car.

“Yeah I bet we are,” you said under your breath as you got in the car and programmed the GPS for the uniform store.

“So,” Ellie said in a teasing tone as she leaned between the front seats as you started off. “Who are you?”

“Put on your seatbelt,” he said.

She rolled her eyes but sat back and obeyed.

“This is Joel,” you answered for him. “He’s going to be around quite a bit.”

“Is he like another assistant or some shit?” She asked.

“Language,” you said and you caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes in your rearview mirror. “And no, not an assistant.”

“Ohhhh,” she smirked. “So he’s like a boyfriend then, got it…”

Joel rolled his eyes.

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “I’ll be protecting your…”

“Bodyguard?” Ellie interrupted and leaned forward again, frowning. “Why do you need a bodyguard? You didn’t have one of those in LA, what the fuck?”

“I have a bodyguard because you can’t go five minutes without saying fuck,” you said wryly. “My life is under constant threat because of…”

“Please,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “You have a worse mouth than I do. But seriously, why do you need a bodyguard? Is something going on?”

You saw Joel moving to talk but you spoke before he had a chance to.

“This is just a different place than LA,” you said quickly. “People here aren’t used to people like me just showing up in grocery stores and stuff. It can get out of hand quick so the studio wanted me to have Joel around. It’s just a precaution.”

She seemed skeptical but was satisfied enough by the bullshit explanation you’d just given her that she sat back, pulling a Savage Starlight comic book from her book bag and you smiled a little. A lot might have changed in the last few months but at least Ellie was still Ellie.

You made it to the uniform store and told the woman inside - who was seemingly trying not to gape at you but was failing miserably - what you were looking for. She grabbed a few pairs of uniform pants in different sizes before leading Ellie to the fitting rooms and you hung back, waiting for her to change with Joel by your side. He stood facing you, eyes constantly sweeping the store as though this strip mall just outside Austin were a war zone.

“No one told me you had a kid,” he said eventually.

You smiled, sadly.

“Yeah, well,” you said. “I have a kid. That’s a pretty new development, though.”

That made him pause, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked to you.

“I adopted her,” you said. “A few months ago. Her mom was a single parent and like a sister to me. When she got cancer, the first thing she asked me was to take Ellie if… I told her that she was nuts, that she’d be around forever and she wouldn’t need me to do anything for Ellie besides take her to Europe for a cool aunt vacation when she turned 18 but… well, now I have a kid.”

“I…” His voice trailed off. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged.

“It is what it is, I guess,” you said. “She’s why I’m here. Things in LA… I’ve always been in her life. I was the second person to ever hold her. But I’ve always kept the paparazzi far away from her, I’ve made sure she has privacy and that she was as sheltered from that part of my life as she could be. I want to settle into this with some version of normal, one that isn’t possible when I’m in LA. And you, Joel, are throwing quite a wrench into that.”

“Oh this is so much better,” Ellie threw the door to the changing room open with a flourish, in a pair of blue pants that perfectly matched the blue of the sweater. “Not as good as jeans but better than that stupid freaking skirt.”

“Alright,” you said. “We’ll take five of those and then we have to get you to school because there’s no point in loading you up on uniforms just to have you miss your first day, let’s go.”

You weren’t as early as you wanted to be - you’d been hoping to have a chance to meet Ellie’s teachers before the day started but that plan was shot - but at least kids were still arriving. You grabbed a baseball cap from your glove box, Joel stiffening as you reached between his legs to open it and you resisted the urge to smirk at that. As though you’d be trying to come onto him at all let alone with your niece in the car.

Hat on so you were somewhat disguised, you walked with Ellie and Joel to the front of the stone building, one that had clearly taken inspiration from the ivy league schools the kids who went here were all but destined to attend. A gray haired woman in a charcoal pantsuit rushed out to greet you, an almost stern look on her face.

“Welcome to Austin Preparatory Academy,” she extended her hand. “I’m Amanda Stark, headmistress here.”

“Good to meet you,” you said, taking her hand, feeling Joel standing oddly close to your back. “This is Ellie, she’s looking forward to starting here today and…”

“We’re looking forward to having her,” she smiled a little at Ellie before redirecting her attention to you. “But I’m afraid there’s been some… ah… miscommunication about the uniform. Girls are required to wear skirts. I’m sure we have…”

“No miscommunication,” you smiled a little, steeling your spine. From the moment you’d caved to Ellie, you knew this was coming. But you’d been prepared to fight far bigger battles over this kid, this wasn’t going to be any different. “Ellie just prefers to wear pants. It wasn’t a problem at her last school, I’m sure it won’t be a problem here.”

Ellie stuck her chin out, smirking a little and defiant as ever and you resisted the urge to elbow her. She could at least act like she wasn’t going to get her way.

“But it is,” the headmistress said. “The uniform code here has been this way for decades and…”

“And I’m sure you’re not suggesting that just because something has been done one way that it should continue to be done that way at the expense of students’ comfort and learning experience,” you finished for her, smiling tightly.

“We have expectations for our students,” she said, her jaw clenched. “Just like they will have one day to be successful in life, and…”

“And you’re wearing pants,” you nodded to her suit. “And so am I. Of course, if you’re suggesting that neither of us is successful then…”

“No, no of course not, that’s not…”

“Wonderful!” You said brightly. “I’m glad that’s settled. I’m sure Ellie won’t cause any disruption wearing the uniform pants and now I won’t need to spend my day contacting every major news network here in Austin and asking them to come here and chat with me about your archaic gender rules and expectations. Sound good?”

You watched her grind her teeth for a moment.

“Of course,” she said after a moment of silence hanging in the air. “But we are close to the start of the school day and…”

“Yes, I don’t want to be a distraction,” you smiled before turning to Ellie, tucking a hair that had already broken free of her ponytail behind her ear. “Alright kid, behave yourself, OK?”

“Yes Sissy,” she rolled her eyes. Your heart still tightened a little when she called you that. She sounded so much like her mother, Anna. You loved that Ellie called you the same thing her mother had but still, it stung.

“I’ll be back to pick you up,” you said, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Have a good first day, OK?”

“Oh I will,” she said and you watched her head into the building with the headmistress at her side until you couldn’t see her anymore.

“OK, she’s dropped,” Joel said, his voice tight. “Let’s move, this place isn’t secured.”

“Well that sure seems like a gap in security, doesn’t it?” You said, brows raised.

“One I would have fixed if anyone had bothered to tell me you had a damn kid,” he practically growled.

“Probably a bad idea for your boss to not have insisted on bringing me into the conversation then, wasn’t it?”

He looked at you, his face hard.

“Keys.” He held out his hand.

You laughed once.

“Keys?” You said. “Really? Just ‘keys,’” you grunted it like he did, “that’s it?”

“Your kid is inside,” he said, hand still out. “Don’t have her to use an excuse now so, keys.”

You looked at him for a moment, the firm set of his jaw, the flecks of gray just starting in at his temples. He was a good looking man, tall and broad with a rugged look to him. He’d make a good cowboy in a western, you thought, or maybe a hardened detective. But protecting someone like you seemed out of place for him. Beneath him a little, almost like he was a sell out.

“No,” you said simply, ducking around him and heading for the car.

He followed closely behind you, even his footfalls gruff and angry. You sped up a little but he stepped in front of you, anyway, his oddly large body blocking your door. He opened his mouth - probably to try to order you around again - but you cut him off before he had the chance.

“I’m not letting you drive,” you said. “It doesn’t matter what you do or what you say. If you want to drive, you’re going to have to pick me up and move me so, if you want to get out of here quickly and without causing a scene, you’ll get in the passenger seat and we can go.”

For half a moment, you thought he might actually throw you over his shoulder. Instead, he just grunted and stalked around to the other side of the car, ripping the door open roughly. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. All this pretense over some stupid letters from some over zealous fan.

You got in the car and dropped the keys in Joel’s lap. He frowned, picking them up.

“You want to have the keys so bad? Fine.” You pushed the button and the car roared to life. “I’ve got them right where I want them.”

“You gotta come to terms with how this shit is going to work,” he said sharply. “You can’t just do whatever the hell it is you feel like. I get that you’re some spoiled fuckin’ actress who only ever does exactly what she wants whenever she wants but I got news for you, I don’t give a shit how many movies you’ve been in or awards you’ve won. I care about keeping your ass alive and to do that, you gotta listen to me. I ain’t one of those fuckin’ ass kissers you spend all your time with so we can do this the hard way or the easy way but either way, it’s gonna be my fuckin’ way. Understood?”

You watched him for a moment, your tongue between your teeth to keep from snapping at him. It was something you were used to, something you’d been doing since you were a girl, always shutting up while the people who were more powerful than you - people you’d made fucking rich - made every decision for you.

That was one thing on set and in your career and even for posed fucking paparazzi shots but not in your real life.

“I need coffee,” you said, putting the car in drive. “Coffee?”

“I’m sure you got people who can do that for you,” he said, his jaw clenched.

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” You smirked before nodding down to his wrist. “Oh, also? Your watch is broken.”

You pressed the gas harder than you should have, the car jumping sharply forward, wondering just how far you could push your new shadow before he backed out.

Next Chapter

A/N: OK I'm already in love with writing how these two push each other's buttons. Annoying Joel Miller is my passion, I can't wait to drive this man absolutely insane over the arc of this fic.

Thank you so much for being patient as I wrapped up Yearling and went on vacation! I'm hoping to update this once a week going forward so you won't need to wait quite so long between chapters from here on out. I hope you enjoyed getting to know these two a little better!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #the savage and the sanctuary #bodyguard!joel #bodyguard au #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 2 years

Text

Dreams

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, angst

A/N: just a little angsty type short blurb I had in my head.

--‐------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Since when did Simon Riley get so romantic?” You jeered, booping him on the nose playfully. “I won’t complain, though, this is nice.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Simon whispered to you, as he stroked your hair lightly. “You are my everything, Y/n.”

The two of you were lying in bed together, wrapped up in each other's arms. Neither of you had moved for hours.

“I’ve always been this romantic, don’t know what you’re on about.”

You chuckled as you shoved your face into Simon's chest, inhaling his scent. “ I love you.”

“I love you too, kid. Always.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

You sighed deeply into the kiss, and moved so you were sitting on top of him, straddling his waist. Pulling away, you smirked down at him with a devious look in your eyes.

“What are you up to?” He asked, matching your smirk.

*RING*

“Nothin.”

"Nah, I know that look."

"Don't know what you're talking about, just showing my man how much I appreciate him is all." You bit back a giggle, an elated smile forming on your face.

Simon was jolted awake by his phone going off. He sat up in his bed and sighed. That’s right, that was all just a dream. You’ve been dead for over a year. He grabbed his phone off the bedside table and saw Price’s caller ID flashing on the screen.

“Simon, meet me in my office. We’ve got to discuss something. Urgently.”

“Hello?” Simon grumbled, answering the call.

Price hung up the call immediately after.

Simon tossed the phone to the side and threw his head into his hands. He'd been having more and more dreams about you lately. It seems his mind wouldn't give him a break from you. Even when he wasn't conscious, you'd still find your way into his head.

He looked at his nightstand and saw the watch you'd given to him as a birthday present, just a few weeks before you died. It was the only thing from you he had left. He never went anywhere without the watch. Grabbing it and slipping it on, he went to get ready to meet Price.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the way to Price’s office, Simon let his thoughts drift to you once more. He missed you terribly. You were his everything before you died. Though the two of you weren’t in a relationship, it was clear the two of you had feelings for one another. You were his shadow, and he was yours. He’d have done anything to save you.

He took exhaled deeply and composed himself before entering Price’s office. He slowed as he was met with a rather solemn look on his captain's face.

“Simon. We’ve got news. Why don’t you have a seat.” Price nodded at Simon and pointed to the chair across from him.

“‘M fine standing, what’s this about?”

“We need to talk about Verdansk.”

Simon's blood chilled at the mention of the mission. The mission in which he’d lost you. Ever since that day, he refused to ever go into detail about the mission. It hurt too much for him to replay it. He watched as you’d gotten shot right in front of him, taking the bullet that was meant for him. Your eyes had found his before your body hit the ground. Everything happened so fast, and he wasn't able to get to you in time. He had to watch on helplessly as the enemy dragged your dead body away from him.

“No, no. I’m not talking about that. We’ve agreed to never speak about that again.”

“Lieutenant, listen to -.”

“NO! I am not going to stand here and rehash this shit again. I can’t and won’t do it. You promised.”

“Simon, we found her. She’s alive.”

Simon’s entire world came screeching to a halt as he took in Price's words. “What did you say?”

“I said we found her, Simon. Y/N is alive.”

----------------------------------------------------

A/N: Not sure if I want to turn this into a mini series??

#simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley angst #mw2 imagine #mw2 x reader

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ticktokrobotsnot · 1 year

Text

Vapor

This is Part 2

You can read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his not-so-shit-restaurant and gets invited over for family dinner.

Word Count: 10k

The sky was blood orange and the reflection on the store window was mesmerizing. Y/n was supposed to be in the office getting ready for the full day ahead of her but she couldn’t resist slacking off for a bit, it was nice to finally enjoy the restaurant with no one inside. Y/n needed to be here early when a potential vendor came by to give some quotes. Carmen’s initial reaction was to stand his ground and act like some faux bodyguard because he couldn't fathom why some “sick fuck” would want to be alone with a woman in a restaurant at the ass crack of dawn without them having bad intentions—said it wasn't safe at all. Y/n had to inform him that the, “sick fuck” was a woman. And as soon as Carmen heard that, and realized they were going to be talking numbers for a while, he ran off to the farmer's market, wanting no part in that snooze fest.

Y/n grabbed her laptop and started reviewing the binders she organized. Just as y/n was about to check her phone for any messages, she heard a knock at the door. A pretty blond woman looks at y/n with a bit of confusion. This woman wasn’t expecting to see y/n and y/n wasn't expecting to see this woman. Y/n walked to the door and opened a crack.

“Who are you?” Y/n questioned.

“I could ask you the same thing.” The women laughed but y/n wasn’t finding this funny.

“Natalie…” Y/n shook her head like a bouncer sending a teeager away without his fake ID.

“Natalie Berzatto.” She clarified and y/n recalled the name as a co-signer for The Beef, now The Bear. Y/n opened the door a bit more to let her in.

Y/n gave her name but she didn’t know what else to say but Natalie was already filling the space.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you, Carmen won't stop talking about you. You really saved our asses. Especially with the file organizing stuff, I found the old payroll stuff in like a minute, you're a real savant with stuff like that. Carmy is a real sticker for cooking but he is a real shit-”. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Natalie was nervous.

Y/n knew that Natalie was a part of Carmen’s family but she didn’t know how they were connected. One plausible scenario was that she was Micheal’s widowed girlfriend or wife, which would explain why anyone would co-sign the disaster that Micheal had created and promptly left. Y/n wondered why Carmen would be getting so chummy with his widowed sister-in-law, but then again men have done worse.

Y/n bit the bullet, “How do you know Carmen?”

“I'm his sister… Sugar?” Y/n was starting to feel like a real idiot for not being able to piece these easy deductions together, she was losing her edge because it was to fucking early in the morning.

“Yes, Richie told me that “Sugar” was going to stop by this week. What can I do for you?” Y/n didn’t mention that she thought Sugar was going to be a stripper because of the name.

“Actually I came to pick some old tax stuff… Micheal’s tax returns.” Y/n guided her to the office. Even if she didn’t look back she knew that Natalie was spying on her binders and laptop laid out on the counter, trying to find out a bit about y/n.

“So, Carmy tells me that you two used to work together back in New York.”

“Yeah it was only for a few years.”

“Were you close?” Natalie probed.

“We were…strangers at best.” Y/n chose to leave out the messy parts of her and Carmen’s origins.

Natalie shook her head in disbelief. "That can't be true, he actually came to my place one day, pretty late. You know why?" Y/n, not knowing the answer, simply shrugged her shoulders.

"He said he needed to make an important phone call, someone from his old job. He said that he wanted to ask for a bit of help." Natalie continued, her voice tinged with wishfulness "I thought maybe he was finally going to therapy or something." Y/n felt a strange sensation, like she was staring directly into the sun, hope gave Natalie a beautiful glow.

Natalie's smile softened as she added, "And you know what? He made that phone call right on our porch." Her words carried a touch of warmth. "Well, at least he's reaching out for help. It's a good thing, right?"

“I recommended therapy to him too but I think we would need to put a gun to his head for him to actually go." Natalie let out a humored exhale.

There was a lull of silence after she handed the tax returns. Y/n could sense that Natalie wanted to talk some more so y/n directed her to the bar stools out front. She checked her phone and saw that her vendor had a family emergency and needed to reschedule. After shooting a quick ok, she directed herself to face Natalie.

"You can ask me anything. I've got plenty of time to kill." Y/n offered, feeling generous considering the recent kiss shared with Natalie's brother just a week ago.

“I was here a few times but I never had a chance to meet you?”

“I was probably apartment hunting.” Natalie looked like she was debating asking her next question.

“What did you think of Carmen when you guys were back in New York?”

“He was like every other chef.”

“Nothing else? No pulling force?”

“No pulling force.”

“You moved state lines for him and you're saying there was no pulling force?”

“He asked me for help and I gave him some.”

“You chose to stay. There had to be a pull.”

“The restaurant spoke to my soul, I had to stay.” Y/n was bluffing.

“Bullshit, there was a pull.” Natalie said with a self fulfilled smirk like she had won a point in their imaginary game.

Natalie continued, “You know, he won a Michelin star. A man who cooks…is not too bad.”

“I don’t eat gourmet food. It’s pretentious.” Y/n didn’t want to make too much out of the kiss and make Carmen panic.

“I'm sure he can make something you will like.”

“I have yet to eat something of his that would warrant him having a Michelin star.”

“You don’t like his cooking?”

“I don’t like anyone’s cooking.” Natalie couldn’t come up with something else. Point to y/n. A smile spread across y/n’s face and Natalie was relieved to realize that y/n wasn’t being serious.

“What do you like doing?” Natalie probed.

“I spend most of my time working here but I also read.”

“Why did you leave New York?” Natalie blurted out.

“I don’t like working with other people, my boss was all over me. I thought Chicago would be a nice change of pace.”

Y/n saw Natalie unlock her phone to respond to a text from someone named Pete, who had a pink heart near his name. Y/n knew that memorizing people’s passwords was an invasion of their privacy but it was fun to be a bit nosy.

Y/n was also tired of getting the third-degree, she was hoping for a few fun questions asking if she ever murdered anyone or if she ever was contacted to be a part of a bank heist. She would be lying if she wasn’t a bit afraid that whatever she said would be relayed to Carmen so she didn’t want to say anything too damning.

“You read romance?” Y/n saw the book peeking out of Natalie’s bag, it was one that she had read before.

“Yeah, they’re my guilty pleasure.”

“Mine too. I liked that one.” Y/n pointed at the book peaking out.

“I hate it, it's filled with miscommunication. I’m only finishing it to justify the 12 dollars I spent.” Natalie said with a fake pout.

“I love miscommunication because I suck at talking to people too. Much better than the one I just finished.”

“What killed your book?”

“Third-act break up.” Natalie nodded her head, it seems like they agreed.

Y/n couldn't help but feel relieved; while the nature of Y/n's relationship with Carmen remained uncertain, it was evident that Natalie would become a more integral part of the restaurant. Carmen's recent discovery of three hundred thousand dollars hidden in tomato cans had sparked ambitious plans for renovating the place. Even if she ended up being nothing serious with Carmen, she needed to secure a stable support who wouldn’t completely hate her if shit hit the fan.

They continued to talk about a few books that they had read, a few so trashy that they had to hide their faces in embarrassment from each other when reading the summary out loud.

The door chimed and both women looked over to Carmen who was holding a few bags of produce and baked goods. Y/n went over and plucked the receipts for the top of one of the bags, she didn’t bother helping Carmen because he wouldn’t have let her help anyways. Carmen was gracious enough to put all the receipts together so she wasn’t digging to find them, she kept a record of them to write them off as a business deduction.

“Nat, you’re here early?” Carmen spared a glance before opening a box of croissants to share and then disappearing to the kitchen to put everything away.

“Yeah I had to pick something up, y/n was so kind to help me so early in the morning. Isn’t she just the best?”

“Yeah…How did it go with the vendor?” Carmen mindlessly mumbled while busying himself with a notebook of recipe ideas.

“Rescheduled.” Y/n didn’t look up, engrossed in cataloging some expensive mushrooms for record keeping. $268.43 for some mushrooms was honestly so ridiculous y/n needed to squint to see if she was seeing this right.

“I need to return the favor.” Natalie started.

“It was just a few folders, you really don’t-”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner on friday?” Y/n felt like she was performing front and center.

“I couldn’t-.”

“Please, Pete never wants to talk to me about…” Natalie was raising her eyebrows in the most unsubtle way possible so she didn’t expose y/n's softer side and her penchant for reading romance novels. Y/n couldn’t help but hide her face in embarrassment, “Yeah…fine. Just tell me what time.”

Observing the exchange, Carmen couldn't help but wonder if this was how dogs felt when humans engaged in their own incomprehensible conversations.

Y/n was starting to feel like she was edging closer and closer to Carmen’s limit. Kissing in the back alley of a restaurant and on the car ride to and from work was very different from being invited to his sister’s house for dinner. It carried a weight of intimacy, commitment, and solidity that made Y/n slightly uneasy, wondering if this was too much for Carmen. She waited for the other shoe to drop, Carmen would subtly show his discontent by telling Natalie that she shouldn’t force y/n to go to that dinner, which was just an excuse to create some distance. Y/n was surprised when Carmen asked what type of desert he should bring instead.

Y/n kept her cool and excused herself to go to the office so she could get back to work.

Carmen and Natalie moved to the kitchen where Carmen would experiment for a bit. Natalie sat on a stool next to Carmen who started washing produce.

“She is very smart.” Natalie whispered. She took a glance at the closed office door.

“Yeah. Great with the books.” Carmen peeled and diced some garlic.

“Nice too.”

“She is very nice.” Carmen started cutting some nepitella. The additional “very” caused some alarm bells to ring in Natalie’s head. She hid her smirk.

“Everything about her is nice,” Natalie made sure to pay close attention to Carmen’s face, “Nice personality, nice face-” Carmen took a worried glance at the office door and then looked up at Natalie with wide eyes.

“Why, why, what are you-?” He was flustered.

“I’m just sharing my observations. You don’t think she has a nice face-?”

“This is a business, we try to keep professional.” Carmen hid his fumble with fake professionality, unfortunately Natalie saw right through it.

“Try?” Natalie teased. Carmen looked away to pretend to look for some dried porcini. He felt like an idiot. He understood why people used to see him as an easy target when he was younger, he basically showed everyone his buttons, and asked them to get pushed. Carmen continued to chop in silence.

“I'm sorry, I just got a bit excited. I won't push.” Natalie gave her brother the benefit of the doubt, she always thought he would never get into a serious relationship but he liked y/n and y/n seemed like the serious girlfriend type. Natalie couldn’t help but nudge Carmen in the right direction.

Carmen chopped in silence for a few minutes, debating if he should tell Natalie about the kiss. In his mind, he didn’t know if it was too soon for him to introduce his girlfriend to his family. Calling y/n his girlfriend felt unreal, past him wouldn’t believe it even if he saw it.

He handed his notebook to Natalie so she could read measurements to him, he wanted her here for just a bit longer till he gained the courage to tell her about y/n.

Tagliatelle with porcini mushrooms was the first test item of the morning, and he had to soak the dried porcini for 30 minutes, he was bummed that the market didn't have the fresh kind but he knew he would get the real shit when y/n got a hold of that vendor. He looked up at Natalie and tilted his head to indicate that they should leave. Carmen avoided the alley because he knew that y/n would look there first and he didn’t want her to overhear anything. They walked over to a nearby supermarket and started roaming the aisles. It was nearly empty because it was six in the morning.

“I did something…and I need you to not…just listen and don’t make it a big deal.”

“I got it, Carmy.”

“A while ago, I…” Carmen looked at all the different types of instant noodles they had on display. “So, we were in deep shit with these pre-orders and I was a mess and y/n and I were talking after…” Carmen moved over to the boxed pasta, he didn't intend to buy anything but he did read the nutritional facts.

“I umm, asked her to…” Jesus, Carmen wondered, why he didn’t make more friends so he didn’t have to talk to his older sister about something like this. Richie didn’t seem capable of giving any advice that wasn’t, “Just Do It”.

“We ki…” Natalie kept her face hard but the second that Carmen turned around to look at a box of elbow pasta, she couldn't help herself but let out a small, barely audible squeal of delight. Her eyes widened, and a grin threatened to break through her determined facade. Natalie quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her elation, making sure not to let Carmen catch a glimpse. She stifled her excitement with every fiber of her being, preserving the illusion of calmness for when Carmen turned back around, none the wiser.

“It’s been a while, and we k…” Carmen didn’t know how he was supposed to maturely ask for advice when he couldn’t even say a kiss in front of his sister while cringing. Carmen couldn’t do this, it was too open, too vulnerable.

Nat cut him some slack and started asking questions instead, “Was it a one time thing?” Carmen subtly shook his head no. Her lips parted as she squeezed a jar of Pego to contain herself.

“Do you regret it?” Carmen didn’t respond but that didn’t mean no, that ment that she was getting closer to the root of the problem.

“Do you think she’s going to regret it?” Carmen’s shoulder’s raised slightly, bingo.

“Why don’t I gauge how she is feeling at dinner.” Nat knew he was about to run away from her for exposing too much and she had to give him an incentive to not follow his instincts.

She continued, “We talked earlier, she said she hates your cooking.” Carmen’s head snapped up, Nat knew that y/n was just joking but it was still a bit funny to mess with Carmen.

The look of shock transported her back to when she was eight sitting next to Carmy and watching Micheal convince him to finish a glass of milk or else he would lose all of his teeth to a calcium deficiency. This wasn’t the time to reminisce but it made her heart warm knowing that even after going through so much, there was still a part of young Carmy that persevered. She was feeling the burning in the back of her eyes, her hormones were making her sentimental.

“Yeah she said that your food fucking blows.” Carmen caught on and let out a small laugh.

They both roamed in the aisle moving on to juices. Sugar free, diet, pineapple, orange. Carmen’s eyebrows raised when he saw the price of orange juice before putting it down and deciding to just make his own.

Carmen started, “She isn’t the type of person who changes her mind easily,” but if she can make that shift to see him in a good light, maybe she'll stick around and eventually see the real Carmen—a pathetic, insecure loser. All he did was make a promise to her but he knew it meant nothing without actions, and he was unsure if he could control his anger or keep his obsessiveness in check when something especially difficult happened. If another shit storm made its rounds in the kitchen, would he really be able to be the bigger person? Carmen doubted it.

Carmen just ripped off the bandaid, “I don’t know how to…I want her to not hate me. I know I'm going to..” Carmen waited till a child next to them moved to the other end of teh aisle towards his dad, “..fuck it up, but I dont want that to happen.”

“What makes you think she is going to hate you?”

“When we were talking…she told me that I should have done better. And that I…needed to be “stable”, but I don’t know how to be that for myself, let alone someone else.”

“She isn’t asking you to do it for her, she wants you to do it for yourself.” Natalie offered.

“Its like having to solve a word search to answer a stupid fucking puzzle. I don’t…” Carmen sighed in defeat. Nat knew that he was strong and it was impossible for her to fix this for him but that still made her palms itch seeing him struggle like this. She racked her brain, desperately seeking any glimmer of a solution that could offer him even a shred of relief.

They both walked out the market towards the restaurant. “It's really hard…and it's not that I don’t want to, it just feels impossible.” Carmen muttered, he was close to giving up.

A burning sensation welled up in the back of Natalie's throat, and she instinctively placed her hand on Carmen's shoulder as a gesture of support and to her surprise Carmen looked at her, saw her glassy eyes and hugged her. The shock knocked a few tears from her eyes..

Carmy was not a selfish person but Nat noticed that he was becoming a bit more aware that he takes up much more space then he originally thought he did. He now knew that his presence was big enough to be able to tear people down but was also big enough to offer meaningful support. He had come to understand his own significance, and this realization struck Natalie like a tidal wave, causing her to burst into uncontrollable sobs.

“Does crying mean I'm fucked, Sugar?” Carmen asked, his voice tinged with humor and uncertainty, as he gently rubbed Natalie's back for comfort. Nat shook her head no.

“You'll be okay. You always are.” Nat wiped her face before continuing to walk back to the restaurant.

Carmen snuck a few glances to see what was making his sister a sobbing mess, she wasn’t the type to break down like that, “Are you good?” Natalie nodded her head.

“Everything good at home?” It felt strange to say the word home, even after visiting multiple countries and living in many different apartments, Carmen couldn’t really call any place home. Home was supposed to be a sanctuary of warmth, Carmen's closest experience to that feeling was back in his family house—a place where the warmth was scalding and suffocating. Where it was a constant waiting game, anticipating the intense heat to escalate and cause everything, and everyone, to boil over.

Carmen was acutely aware that he would never have a home quite like Sugar's. He couldn't help but wonder if he had what it took to be like Pete for someone else—always helpful, kind, and perhaps a little too accommodating. He questioned whether he had the capacity to fulfill that role and maintain his own sense of self. Granted, what about his “self” was worth preserving?

Natalie nodded her head but Carmen wasn’t convinced. “It's just a lot, you know. Seeing the place getting renovated. I used to hate that place, but..” She sighed, “...I picked up Micheal’s tax returns, I didn’t even need them for anything…I just wanted to see them to know what he was going through towards the…'' end. She didn’t need to finish for Carmen to know what she was talking about. They were in front of the restaurant and Carmen gave her a side hug and against his better judgment he tried his hand in verbal reassurance so he could be there for her, fully.

“I think he tried his best to make everything look fine, and it’s nice to know that he was at least able to pretend till the...end.” Sugar looked up at him and didn’t comment on his successful attempt to be her support, not wanting to scare him.

They wordlessly walked in the restaurant and Carmen finished up his dish. He made enough for one plate because he was expecting to have to remake it a few times. He grabbed a small plate and served a separate plate for y/n before knocking on her door. She looked up at him, not hearing him and gave him a “hmm” which echoed in his chest. She sat with them in the kitchen, taking her laptop with her. They all took the first bite together. Carmen watched both women’s reactions to gauge their uncensored reactions. Natalie’s eyebrows raised and she gave him a nod of approval.

Y/n took a bite and looked up from her plate so see Carmen staring at her. “Why are you staring?”

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s good.” Y/n put her fork down and propped up her head on her hand.

“But, you didn’t-”

“I’m not really a foodie, so food is never like…” Y/n made an explosion sound and flicked her hands open, “Good, is the best you going to get out of me.” Natalie wondered how a chef and an anti-gourmet foodie were going to work.

“Is all food just ”good”?” Y/n looked up and tried to think of food that was better than good.

“I like mom's cooking.”

“What is her food like?”

“Intense…subtly in food doesn’t mean anything to me because I don’t taste the difference.” Carmen was waiting for more for y/n.

“I ate a lot of spicy, sour and bitter food growing up. My mom didn’t think that kids should eat different things than everyone else, so I guess pasta and mushrooms will always be just “good”.” Y/n felt like she was just shitting all over his profession but he asked for her opinion so he couldn’t get offended now.

Carmen nodded his head before walking away. Y/n pierced her lips and looked over to Natalie wondering if she hurt Carmen’s feelings. Natalie looked just as bewildered. Just as y/n was about to find Carmen, he came out with a few more ingredients.

“What are you making?”

“Something you will like.”

“I liked what you made-”

“Good is not enough.”

“Come on, Carmen, it's something that everyone will like, it’s going to kill opening day.”

“But you have to like it.” Y/n sighed before indicating that he should continue.

“You won’t be able to serve the food I like to eat, it would be considered a biological weapon.” Y/n was warning him but Carmen thought she was teasing him. He would learn to listen to her warning in the future. He put the porcini mushrooms to the side before getting started on some penne all’arrabbiata.

Y/n laughed at him knowing that he wouldn’t have the courage to spice up a dish to her standard before grabbing her laptop so she could get some work done and also talk to Natalie about contractors.

While Carmen chopped and stirred, y/n subtly glanced up at his flexing back and strong arms. She thought she was hiding it well but when she went to check if Natalie noticed she saw that Natalie was already watching her. Natalie snickered as y/n hid her face behind her laptop to hide her embarrassment. Carmen turned around to see what was so funny but was just met with the view of both of them with their faces hiding behind their hands.

Y/n felt someone pass behind her and knew it was Sydney without having to look up. “Hey guys, what are we making?” She took a bite out of the pasta, which was slightly cooled but she still nodded her head.

“It’s fire, chef. It would be great if it was hot, I want to remake it to see what it was supposed to taste like.”

Y/n couldn’t say that she completely forgave Sydney but y/n did respect that she went to Richie to give some type of apology after a while. Y/n could accept that the two of them wouldn’t be best friends, they just needed to be able to work together.

Y/n went to Carmen’s locker before pulling out a few Tums for everyone, it looks like today was going to be pasta day because of her and she didn’t want to send everyone home with a stomach ache.

Carmen continued with his pasta, and served it in front of y/n. All the women took a bite,

“It’s got a kick to it.” Natalie said while reaching for a food container filled with water while wiping sweat from her brow. Sydney gave Carmen a, “This is fire, chef.” Y/n couldn't help but cringe inwardly at the comment because she knew she couldn't quite match their shared vernacular and the ease with which they expressed themselves with food. What private passion did y/n and Carmen share?

Carmen stared y/n down as she took a bite.

“It’s good.” Carmen waited for her to elaborate. “It’s too subtle.”

Carmen smirked, “Yeah, next time I'll just make you a ball of fire for you to enjoy.” Y/n gave him a shit eating grin, it was just too fun not to mess with him, and when she saw him smile back she felt a bit of imaginary nostalgia, this was what she longed for back in New York.

The restaurant was still closed for renovations and after a while a few other crew members came by to do some demo. Y/n was stuck on hold with the inspector's office when she was approached by Natalie, “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment so I've got to go, I’ll see you on Friday at eight.”

The rest of the week flew by because they were on a very strict time crunch to open in a few months. Y/n wasn’t very worried but she could feel the nerves from everyone else and she knew it would be in bad taste to tell them to toughen up, so she let them be grown ups and deal with their own anxieties.

On Friday, y/n left early to get ready for dinner, she opened an old moving box and pulled out a dress that she wore to an old work function. It was very tasteful because it was freezing outside. Y/n grabbed her gifts before running into Carmen’s car. Y/n took one look at Carmen and had to do a double take to make sure that she went into the right person’s car. Carmen’s hair was lighty slicked back, probably with pomade, and he was wearing a deep blue sweater with a white collar.

“I didn’t know you had clothes other than aprons and Dickies.”

“You look..” Carmen marveled at the way her eyes sparkled with an inner radiance, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He knew he wasn’t able to get the full picture yet because they were in a dark car but he could only imagine what she would do to him when they went to the well lit house. “..great.” Carmen wanted to punch himself for being so unoriginal but he couldn’t focus on anything.

“Thank you, you look good too. Blue is definitely your color..” Carmen’s fingers loosened around the steering wheel, compliments had always made him uneasy; he spent the majority of his life trying to make himself as small as possible and now he was pushed into the spotlight and he wondered if he even liked it?

“Carmen, can you look at me for a second?” And when he swiveled his head towards y/n, she squished his face lighty before giving his puckered lips a soft kiss. Just as she was about to lean back into her seat, Carmen, unable to resist, slipped his hand beneath her hair, grasping the back of her neck and drawing her in for a deeper, more passionate second kiss.

Yeah, he liked it.

“We are going to be late.” Y/n whispered before giving him one last peck. Carmen, still in a daze, fiddled with the radio so he could get his head straight. The ride to his sister’s house was quiet barring the soft jazz. Y/n was very nervous, they never had that conversation that said that they were official and for all she knew she was just a friend that Carmen kissed from time to time. She resisted the urge to ask right now because she was scared to find out that they were nothing more. She would savor the few minutes before she was inevitably introduced as a friend, or worse a co-worker.

They pulled into Natalie’s driveway and got out of the car, y/n grabbed the bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine and they rang the doorbell.

"Why are you holding the tray like that?" Y/n asked, noticing how Carmen clung to it like a shield. Before she could receive a response, Natalie opened the door with a warm greeting, inviting them inside. Y/n handed over the gifts, but Carmen still clung onto his belongings. Just then, Peter descended the stairs, seemingly about to approach Carmen for a hug before his gaze landed on Carmen's protective tray. He hesitated and stepped back, realizing it was acting as a barrier. Y/n stifled a laugh, biting her cheek to prevent herself from laughing at Carmen’s immaturity.

Carmen greeted, “Pete.” Y/n could feel the dislike and she felt bad for Pete because he seemed nice.

“Carmen, it’s good to see you, man.”

“This is my girlfriend, y/n.” A sense of numbness overwhelmed her. It was like when people get run over by a semi and say that they don’t feel anything. Y/n extended her hand to shake Pete's, and she followed him into the living room.

Carmen went into the kitchen to help Natalie and y/n made pleasant conversation with Pete, he seemed a bit soft but she could understand why Natalie might want someone like him. Y/n pretended to be interested when he showed her his Cubs memorabilia, she initially thought the Cubs were a fictional sports team made by the New Girl writers.

Y/n and Pete walked over to the kitchen and asked if they needed any help. Pete looked like he wanted to actually be helpful but y/n had her fingers crossed hoping she didn’t have to do any cooking. It was weird to see Carmen let someone else take the lead while he watched. Even with Sydney, he still watched over everything like a hawk, not because he didn’t trust her, it's just because he wouldn’t let her fail.

Y/n watched as everyone spoke and she wondered where she fit in. Natalie and Carmen were obviously close and Pete was doing his best to get close to Carmen, trying to bridge the obvious gap between them. Y/n had to stop herself from telling Carmen to either be nicer or for Pete to drop it.

Other than being Carmen’s new “girlfriend” and sharing small talk, what else was there for her to talk about? Y/n didn’t know them well but she could tell there was a lot of subtext between the three of them that added weight to their interactions that she wasn’t privy to yet. She was a flame trying to suck in any bubble of oxygen so she could ignite, she needed more information before she could actually join them.

It felt like she was reading Dune for the first time, being dropped in the middle of an already moving plot and she was scrambling to play catch up. Carmen had a lot of triggers and she wondered if Natalie was the same. Even if they acted completely differently, y/n could tell that they were sidestepping something, like they were avoiding talking about a gaping bullet wound, and if siblings were acting like that it means that it's a problem with the parents. Despite the fact that they were in the kitchen, the three of them weren’t talking about the food. Y/n made a mental checklist of a few rules; 1. Don’t bring up parents 2. Don't mention food because it's a trigger 3. Pay attention to Natalie because she was not as good at hiding her feelings as Carmen.

Dinner was served and they all took a seat, y/n took slow sips of wine and saw that Natalie’s wine was slightly darker than hers. Y/n was sitting across Natalie so she recognized the smell too, apple. She was drinking sparkling apple cider. Y/n hid her smirk by talking another sip, she would be a spy or something because she was killing it in the recon department.

Dinner was starting to feel stiff, y/n took a deep breath and turned to Natalie, “Your cooking is to die for.” Natalie tucked in her lips but couldn’t help but hide her smile, y/n never told Carmen anything like that, barring the first day she got to Chicago, it was a petty way of getting back at him for blindsiding her by calling her his girlfriend.

“Thanks, It's a family recipe.” Y/n wanted to stab herself with the fork, she just broke rule one and two. Just as y/n was about to make some asinine comment to change topics, Carmen did it for her.

“Can you pass me the bread, Sugar?” Y/n found her opening.

“Sugar, that’s a nice nickname, what’s the story?”

Natalie paused and y/n had a feeling she fucked up, “We were having this Chrismas family thing and I added a cup of sugar into the gravy instead of salt. The name just stuck.” Y/n definitely fucked up, she was breaking rules left and right. Y/n scrabbled to put herself in the same level as Natalie.

“I’ve been there. My parents were having a few co-worker over for lunch and they brought a box of these expensive mangos and I was told to make some smoothies because it was boiling that day. I filled up the sugar container with salt without noticing and made them smoothies with a ton of salt.” Y/n saw that all eyes were on her and she didn’t allow herself to be nervous because she was trying to get a deeper point across.

Y/n continued, “I have never heard that many people gag all at once.” Their faces broke into a smile.

“What did your mom say?” Bingo, looks like the taboo parent could be narrowed down to their mother.

“She didn’t say anything bad, she and her co-workers just laughed. I mean I was a kid and we all make mistakes. I ended up making lemonade instead.”

Natalie’s eyes lit up,“It’s a shame that all those mangos went to waste.” Natalie joked.

“Waste?” Y/n had a fake offense, “I drank the rest to prove that it wasn’t that bad.”

“Was it that bad?” Pete asked.

“My blood pressure was through the roof. It was the first time I ever got a headache.”

The rest of dinner was a bit more relaxed, y/n was expecting Carmen to talk a bit more because these were his people but it looked like she would have to do the talking for the both of them. They finished up dinner and y/n got up to help them clean up. It was y/n and Carmen alone in the kitchen while Natalie went upstairs to check on something, aka she needed some rest and Pete went to check up on her.

As Carmen washed the dishes, Y/n stood by, towel in hand, drying them. The domestic scene felt comfortable, yet she couldn't determine if she truly enjoyed this newfound domesticity. She wondered if in Carmen’s eyes she was merely playing the role of the perfect partner – someone who could effortlessly navigate his family dynamics, fix his business, and be his own manic pixie dream girl.

A selfish thought crossed Y/n's mind. What was she truly gaining from this relationship? She had been too afraid to make a move with Carmen after the kiss, fearing that one misstep could lead her to being shut out completely. She hesitated to voice her preferences about his food, to ask about the nature of their relationship, or to discuss their future plans if this relationship fell through. Y/n wasn't one to dwell in discomfort, except for her previous job, and she felt frustrated that she had to jump through so many hoops just to ensure that Carmen wouldn't leave.

They finished the dishes and y/n could tell that Carmen wanted to check on Natalie but he didn’t want to leave y/n alone. Y/n being a supportive girlfriend, practically pushed him up the steps before walking out the front door and leaning on the porch. Y/n grabbed her jacket and walked out. She underestimated the frigid Chicago air which felt like a sharp slap to her face, serving as a wake-up call. It reminded her that the warm and fuzzy feeling she had been battling within herself was merely fleeting, and that the reality of the world could be much harsher and more painful.

Y/n couldn’t help but wonder why Carmen was even bothering with her, they had nothing in common but the restaurant. Work was everything for him and Sydney, their shared connection always pulled them together despite both of their volatile personalities. What pulled y/n and Carmen together? They both worked in the restaurant but Carmen didn’t have a passion for running said restaurant, it was a mere obligation that y/n took from him. If she stopped working there, what else did they have in common?

Y/n came to the daunting realization that Carmen picked Sydney because he saw potential in her, a chance to let both him and her grow. However, he didn’t pick y/n because he saw something deeper in her, it was an act of embarrassed desperation.

Was she just a means to help Carmen get his shit together? The restaurant meant a lot to Micheal and after he died Carmen stopped seeing the restaurant as something that was out of his reach but as something to connect him to his brother, a small thread connecting the estranged brothers. Y/n was there to hold up the connection in the vaguest of ways, she kept the restaurant afloat so Carmen could come to terms with Micheals’s legacy, good and bad.

She was lost in thought when she heard the door close, she turned her head to see Carmen was already lighting a cigarette. It was difficult for her to be objective when Carmen locked eyes with her with such intensity. Y/n ripped her eyes from him and faced forward looking at the neighbor's yard, they had nice shrubs.

“I thought you left.” Carmen started as he leaned on the railing with y/n. He looked forward to see what was so interesting that y/n couldn’t look him in the face, it was just some trees.

“I needed some air.”

“You could catch a cold.”

“I don’t get sick, sick is a mindset.” Y/n was obviously joking.

She lowered her head so that she could feel the cold metal on her forehead, maybe a different type of pain would make this conversation easier. Her forehead landed on something warm, the back of Carmen’s hand. She turned her head to its side but remained connected to Carmen’s hand. The warmth radiating on her cheek was making her stomach do backflips. Even if she knew she shouldn’t be indulging like this she couldn’t help it. He felt too good and y/n was getting more and more greedy.

“Hey, Carmen?” Carmen was still staring at y/n. “What do we have in common?” He looked taken aback.

“We like each other…” He was starting to feel the slow slitter of nausea because he knew the other shoe was about to drop.

“If we don’t have much in common, what do we talk about?”

��We can talk about whatever we like. It’s nice to…be with someone who isn't wrapped up in the same things as me.” Carmen expressed a genuine warmth in his voice. Carmen wanted to say that she made him feel like the roof wasn’t going to collapse on him and that the small things weren’t going to destroy him but it felt selfish to describe how much he cared for her based on how she made him feel and not on facts about her.

“I don’t care about fancy food.” Y/n blurted out.

Carmen chuckled, “You know about the vendors, where the supplies are sourced, how much they cost, and a bunch of other stuff. You do care, just in a different way than I do.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It gives me perspective. It’s very realistic and grounded.” Y/n knew he was calling her realistic and grounded.

“I like hearing you talk about my food.” Carmen offered.

“Even if it’s just “good”?”

“Especially if it's just "good". That means you're telling me the truth.” Carmen recalled a ninth grade world history lesson about the Rosetta Stone, an artifact written in three different languages and made it possible to translate some ancient language. Though he hadn't fully paid attention during the lesson, Carmen now saw the parallel. If Y/n had the courage to express her opinions on his food, it meant she was being honest with him about everything else.

Y/n cracked a smile before covering her mouth and started laughing. It was a jarring sound, Carmen couldn’t pinpoint what the laugh was meant to convey but he knew it wasn’t good.

“What?” Carmen asked, Y/n rubbed her face with her cold hands.

“You said that you were scared of me a while back but now…” Y/n's laughter softened into a smaller chuckle, conveying a mix of amusement and irony.

“I’m scared of you.” The weight was lifted off her shoulders and slammed down on Carmen's. Y/n wondered if this is how the rest of their relationship was going to be; one person transferring their hurt to the other till the weight became too much to bear.

"It's... I want to bring so many things up to you but..." Y/n wondered if this counted as an accusation. "..you’re so flighty. I don't know what to say that won't make you..." Y/n struggled to find a word that didn't feel so definitive, but the only word that felt honest was, "...leave."

The porch fell into an uneasy silence, both of them grappling with the weight of Y/n's vulnerability.

"I...I didn't realize..." Carmen stammered, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. "I would never just... leave." They both stared in silence, they knew that wasn’t true. Y/n lifted her head leaving the warmth behind, she knew this wouldn’t work if he made false promises. And against everything telling her to just accept his promise as law and ignore any doubts, she couldn’t fool herself like that.

“That’s such bullshit.” Y/n lighty giggled. It felt as though a shark had promised to stop swimming—it was ingrained in their nature. In that lighthearted moment, a mischievous thought crossed Y/n's mind: What would happen if Carmen actually stopped running away? Would he cease to exist, like a fish in space?

Her playful musings, though immature, offered a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. It was a temporary escape, a way to diffuse the tension. Y/n noticed that she brought all this shit up to comfort herself but she was giggling to make him feel safe. Even when she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn't help but try to make him feel better.

As the laughter subsided, Y/n met Carmen's eyes, she forced herself to ignore the emotions he was conveying and instead tried to match his eyes with things she had seen in the past. If this ended poorly, she would miss his eyes the most and she wanted to know what else could match in intensity in case she never got to see him like this ever again, nothing came to mind.

Carmen felt like he was backed into a corner, he couldn’t promise her anything without her, justifiably, doubting him.

"I don't want to leave you," Carmen offered, his voice carrying a mixture of sincerity and vulnerability. It was the most honest response he could offer at that moment. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't feel the urge to run, to escape when things got tough, but he had a genuine desire to stay.

Y/n's eyes met Carmen's, her expression softened. She knew it wasn't a perfect answer, but it was a step forward. It was enough to know that he acknowledged his own complexities and still chose to be present with her.

They stood in the quiet watching neighbors turn off their living room lights and go upstairs. She wanted to test out whether, “They could talk about whatever they wanted too.”

“What do you think they’re doing?” Y/n asked, Carmen parted his lips and turned his face to look at y/n so see if she was serious, she was.

“I think they go to bed and she has this super long night time routine and he is already asleep by the time she gets to bed. You?” Y/n knew that if they ever slept over at each other’s place, that’s exactly what would happen between them.

“She probably got home from a shit day and she starts reading an easy romance book…Do you read any books?”

“They are mostly cooking stuff.” He took a drag from his cigarette.

“You read cookbooks for entertainment?”

“Sometimes, it's a part of the craft.” Carmen realized how fucking pretentious he sounded and was a bit ashamed but seeing y/n refrain from teasing him by bitting her lips made him not want to crawl into a hole and die of shame, her smile was addicting. “…but there is a lot of history and science too. '' Carmen knew he sucked at conversation but he would do anything to keep talking.

“What was your last book?”

Y/n and Carmen kept talking till they lost track of time and eventually when they had reached a comfortable lull, y/n could confidently say that they were in fact capable of holding a conversation about mundane shit.

Against every fiber of her being telling her to end their conversation like this, she couldn’t help but ask, “What happens…if this ends?” Y/n didn’t know if she was supposed to use “if” or “when”; one was cautious, the other was a prophecy.

Carmen didn’t look back at her, instead giving her, “You’ll still have a job…I’m not a dick…all the time.” Y/n lips curved upwards.

“Will you be able to work with someone you’ve been in a relationship with?”

“Yes.” Carmen wondered if the answer could ever be anything other than yes.

Y/n knew that if this ended badly she would be allowed to stick around so that Carmen would have an excuse to throw himself at his work. She would be the catalyst to merge him from an individual to a vague reflection of Micheal’s legacy.

Whether or not Carmen knew it, Micheal was a huge influence in his life and just like Micheal began to isolate himself towards the end, Carmen would do the same if they drifted apart. It was his inherent weakness and a relationship gone sour that would make it difficult for him to break the cycle that Micheal had started.

“I won’t stay if it hurts you, Carmen.”

“I would want you to stay, y/n.”

“There is no trophy that comes with going through unnecessary shit.”

“I know, I would still need you.” Carmen hesitated but eventually placed his hand top on y/n's.

“Because I can do the books?” Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly.

“No…you do more than that. You are…” Carmen read books with a shit ton of adjectives, they had to be descriptive to describe food through text. Despite that, he was at a loss for words to describe her.

"You are..." he began again, this time his voice was a little gentler than before. He took a deep breath, hoping that he could find those words that would express everything he felt.

"You are very important to me,". His voice was soft like he was realizing this for the first time.

The second time was meant for y/n, "You are very important to me." I love you, y/n.

Y/n locked eyes with Carmen for a moment.

"You are important to me too." I love you, Carmen.

Neither of them had the courage to say that to each other, wondering if they were the only one’s feeling like this.

They both had jackets on but y/n’s hands were freezing and she could feel Carmen’s hand was also ice cold. She knew that they had both reached their limits but y/n couldn’t help but relish in the cold for a bit longer.

For y/n, the biting cold was always a catalyst for clarity, stripping away the unnecessary and forcing y/n to distill her focus onto the few things that mattered. Amidst the frost, she found solace in the simplicity. It was within this chilling environment that she discovered a clear chance to confront her inner turmoil head-on and confront the world.

Carmen had always been drawn to the intense heat. It was as if the scorching temperatures matched the fire that burned within him, igniting his passion and driving him forward but leaving him with nothing to look back on. Extreme heat was his poison of choice, his way of confronting the world.

Carmen’s heat was turning her mind into a messy slurry of slush. Y/n had to force herself to focus despite the fact that Carmen’s hand was providing her with a sliver of intoxicating warmth.

“You didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend.” Carmen’s head shot up aback by y/n's words. He was excited to introduce her to his family, and he hadn't thought to ask her permission first. He tried to explain himself, his words coming out in a rush.

"I didn't mean to assume anything. I just thought that since we've been seeing each other for a while now, it was... " He took a moment to catch his breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I think you should try asking first.” Carmen stared at y/n not knowing if this was a trap to get rejected twice. He opted for silence.

“Carmen, ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?” Carmen didn't want to say the wrong thing, not when it was so important, for someone so important. Carmen trusted y/n so he stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray before taking a deep breath and asking, “Will you be my girlfriend, y/n.”

Y/n wrapped her freezing hands around his neck accidentally grazing her finger on his neck making him shiver. She leaned in against his lip and even though they had kissed before this, Carmen felt like he couldn’t think. Y/n lips barely touching Carmen’s before whispering a soft, “Yes, Carmy.”

Carmen closed the small gap between their lips. And y/n felt a gentle heat seep through the folds of her head making it difficult to focus on her freezing fingers, or her numb toes, or her goosebump riddled legs, or her shivering arms. Y/n felt Carmen pull her closer and even though they were as close as physically possible, it wasn’t enough. Carmen’s lips left y/n’s before trailing down the column of her neck, y/n could feel the blossoming of heat radiate from his lips. Y/n’s hands sank down to Carmen’s waist and slowly drifted up his shirt. The cold sent shivers down his spine as y/n’s hands moved at a glacial pace.

Just as Carmen reached the collar of her jacket he looked up at her and y/n had to resist every irrational and reckless part of her that told her to continue. The realization that they were on Carmen’s sister’s porch made y/n look around to ground herself. She landed on a black box right near the door before looking back to Carmen with her mouth agape and her eyes wide open.

“What?” Carmen questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

“We are on your sister's porch.” Y/n said with a thousand yard stare and a distant mutter.

“I’m not a fucking animal, obviously we aren’t going to do this here.” Y/n softly grasped Carmen’s face before turning towards the black box, a doorbell camera.

“Jesus…fuck.” They both looked at each other before y/n scrambled inside with Carmen right behind her. Either they were caught and they had to face Natalie despite the embarrassment or they got to the footage before Natalie saw it.

Y/n let Carmen lead her to Natalie’s room, who thankfully was still laying on her side, Pete had gone to the restroom.

Y/n leaned up to Carmen before whispering, “Distract her.” Carmen sat near Natalie and asked her if she wanted some ginger-ale or if he should stop by a pharmacy.

Natalie's phone was on the nightstand and y/n swiped it when Natalie wasn’t looking before unlocking her phone with the password she acquired from being noisy. She then deleted the footage of the last hour from her Ring app. Y/n wanted to scroll back a few months to watch Carmen call her for the first time but she didn’t have enough time.

Y/n set the phone exactly how she found it and gave Carmen a subtle thumbs up.

“I’m fine, I think I need to sleep this off.” Natalie sat up while glancing at y/n and y/n had to resist freezing like a criminal caught in the spotlight.

“I’m really sorry-” Natalie started.

“Please don’t be. I had a great time. Is there anything we can do for you before we leave?” Y/n felt bad for taking advantage of Natalie’s pregnancy induced sickness but this was a matter of prestige, she wouldn’t be able to set foot in this house if Natalie ever saw the footage.

Natalie shook her head no and they said their goodbye’s before Camren and y/n practically tripped over themselves running out of that house. They sprinted to the car and slammed the doors shut before bursting out laughing. Y/n felt like she was a teenager again, sneaking her boyfriend out the fire escape before her mom walked in. Carmen pushed his forehead into the steering wheel to laugh and the sound that echoed felt like it was melting itself into y/n’s brain, forever branded into her memory.

“How many times have you been here, Carmen? You never noticed the fucking camera, you dick?” Y/n struggled to shake off the heat that pulsed up her body, Camren hadn’t even started the car yet and she was burning up.

“I…I never looked, what kind of freak looks?”Carmen said in between laughs. Y/n gave him a fake look of disapproval.

“Turn the car on, Berzatto, you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

Carmen turned on his car before pulling out of Natalie’s driveway, he was still snickering and in the streetlight y/n could see his neck turn bright red.

“Stop by a CVS or something.” Y/n said while fiddling with the radio.

“You think you caught something from Nat.” Y/n resisted telling him that pregnancy wasn’t contagious, men are so fucking stupid.

“You have condoms on you?” Carmen slammed on the break, lucky they were at a red light.

“N...no.” Scarlet crawled up his neck and up his face. Y/n didn’t know someone’s ears could ever get that red before. Carmen stayed still trying to collect his fractured thoughts.

“It's green, Carmen.”

He stepped on the gas and y/n was glad that the roads were practically empty because he was driving like he had all the insurance in the world. He pulled over to a Walgreens and ran out of the car. Y/n shook her head at his shit parking, he was in between two spots. Carmen came back in a minute with a plastic bag, y/n could decipher from the shapes that he had also bought some gatorades too.

Carmen pulled out of the parking lot.

Y/n didn’t recognize the streets on their ride back, “Your place?”

“Mine is closer.” Carmen replied, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation.

Y/n could help but giggle, she always loved it when he was desperate. She knew it was wrong, but she always felt such a rush of excitement when her control over him was at its pinnacle and they both knew it.

When they reached a stop sign, y/n glanced over at Camren and saw that he was already looking back at her.

They couldn’t seem to care that they were wading in uncharted waters and they couldn’t convince themselves that this was going to end badly enough for them to not at least try. If they looked at each other like that, there was no way they were going to let each other go.

End Notes:

Fire + Ice = Vapor; It took me an embarrassing amount of time to think of that.

There is a lot of tension and maturity that needs to be written in smut for it to be good and I just can’t do that. I tried for this one and I had to close my laptop and take a lap because the second hand embarrassment was too much. So those drafts have been deleted and I’m glad I never have to see them again.

I didn't think people would like Turbulence, I was going to delete it after a few hours and just keep it to myself but i'm glad that people liked it so ig it's here to stay. I tried to keep this one more contained then Turbulence bc writing about multiple days is such a pain.

I really don’t know what else I might write about for these two, or in general, so if you have any suggestions feel free to send them to me. If your suggestion inspires me, you better believe that I'm going to get out of bed at 2 in the morning and start writing. Or we can bury these two in a shallow grave and forget they exist, which is also fine by me because I think fic aged me.

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five-miles-over · 5 months

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Hi Mun 👋🏼 just found your blog off some tags lol

I would love it if you could do an age gap hc for joker? How would Arthur deal with developing feelings for a partner who is 10 or even 15 years younger than him?

Thank you so much!

Thanks for your patience, anon! I truly appreciate it. Also, Arthur's head canon turned into a bit of a fic, so I apologize for that.

Headcanon: Arthur Fleck Having an S/O Younger Than Him

"ID Please."

While Arthur accompanied you to the grocery store after your shift at work, you bought a bottle of wine to enjoy with the dinner you planned to cook for Arthur. He was coming over to your apartment for the first time, and you wanted to spoil him with a recipe you saw on a cooking show. So you bought all the ingredients, and a bottle of red.

The cashier glanced at you. "You're twenty-two huh? You look like you should be in high school."

You shook your head, flustered. "Um...thanks?"

After paying, you quickly left the store with your bagged groceries. But just when you reached for Arthur's hand, he flinched.

You didn't think much of it at first, but when you tried to talk to Arthur about something, he simply shrugged it off and said it was nothing

The truth is that, Arthur was still processing the fact that you were in your early twenties.

He knew you were a young beautiful woman, smart and kind. A total catch. And that part of Arthur, the part of his mind that told him he was an outcast and fed him nothing but negative thoughts, constantly said, "She could do so much better than you. You don't deserve her at all. She's the whole package, and what are you? Just some guy who can't even take her out to dinner."

He tried to hold it back as he saw other, bigger guys in Gotham walking with their partners, giving them bouquets of flowers wrapped in shiny plastic and other gifts, telling himself that someday he would do exactly that with you. But knowing that you were at ten years younger than him? That was just more fuel to the fire burning inside him.

"She's got her whole life ahead of her. She's going to find someone better, wait and see." The negative thoughts materialized again. "She's just with you out of pity. Date the sad clown, maybe she just wants to fool around. Wait and see. She's going to meet someone with a lot of money, a lot of status...She'll marry him, and when they're all sitting around at cocktail parties, she'll laugh about the time she dated a sad clown. And say she dodged a bullet."

"Arthur?" You tried to get his attention, and repeated his name a couple of times. "Arthur?"

Arthur, seemingly lost in thought, didn't respond until you stood in front of him, stopping him from crossing the street. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he lied. You crossed your arms, not having any of it. And this made Arthur laugh a bit, not out of amusement but out of fear. "Nothing, really," he lied again between laughs.

"Just tell me."

After a few moments of silence, Arthur simply asked. "Are you really twenty-two?...You're twenty-two."

"Yes. I am."

"That's young."

You shifted your weight to one foot. "I know that."

Arthur mirrored your gesture and swallowed. "So...well, I don't care. It's just young."

"I'm not that young," you rebuffed.

"Young enough that the cashier thinks you're in high school."

You put your hands on your hips, still carrying the bags of groceries. "Is that what this is about? He wasn't hitting on me!"

"No, but someone will," Arthur raised his voice a little. "You're young, what the hell do you know?"

"I know that you're my boyfriend and I love you. I don't care what some cashier says about me, and neither should you."

He shook his head. God how he loved the way you'd get so stubborn about your opinions. It was one of his favorite things about you, but right now, in this moment, it made him even more annoyed. How could you say such a thing, lying through your teeth? And with those three special words? "Bullshit," Arthur muttered, walking away from you to cross the street.

You followed him, huffing with your groceries. "Arthur Fleck, what is wrong with you?! Can't you just...Why are you so mad? Nothing happened! I'm still the same person I was twenty minutes ago."

"No. You're twenty-two." He turned around and lashed out. "You're twelve years younger than I am. What the hell's wrong with you? Hanging around with some old clown, waiting until some rich guy makes you his wife and you can leave me behind!" Your eyes widened. "Is that what you think of me?" Your lips quivered and tears formed in your eyes. "Is that seriously what you think this is, just...hanging around? Oh my god." You looked down as you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

Arthur visibly softened, reaching his hand out but stopping himself just before he could touch you. "I'm such an idiot," you sniffed. "You're right, what do I know?" "I'm sorry," Arthur sighed. "I didn't mean to make you cry." Arthur looked down, into your eyes. "I...was just shocked that you were younger. I thought it would...I don't deserve you. You're great, you're a perfect girl and I don't deserve you." He added, "I love you so damn much."

"I love you too," you looked up. "And I don't want to leave you." He laughed for a few moments with pain in his eyes, and bit the inside of his cheek to quiet down. "I'm so sorry," Arthur repeated and put his hands on your shoulders. "Oh my god, please don't cry. I'm so sorry." He took your grocery bags in his hands. "Let's go."

You and Arthur went back to your apartment, and didn't talk about your age for the rest of the night. But you did spend the evening together, telling each other - and showing each other - how much you really loved each other.

Joker Having an S/O Younger Than Him Would Include...

In complete contrast to Arthur, Joker finding out you were ten or fifteen years younger than him would excite him

He'd turn it into a complete kink, calling you his "personal little baby doll"

Whenever you'd go out, you'd be on his lap, him stroking your thighs and your hair.

Unless you were absolutely against the aesthetic, Joker would love to dress you in coquettish clothing - plaid mini skirts, knee-high white socks, white and pastel blouses that he would ruin with grease facepaint while making out with you, and corsets he would rip off you before having his way with you

And if you ever called him "daddy"? Watch out and be prepared to be dragged into the most private area by the Joker. Hope you didn't have any plans for the next...hour

In general, the Joker would be extremely protective of you, keeping his arm around your waist while you walked.

He'd spoil you with anything you ever wanted, acting almost like your sugar daddy while you window shopped.

And when it got cold, he'd put his red suit jacket over your shoulders saying, "Daddy's not going to let his baby doll freeze."

#Arthur fleck #Arthur fleck x reader #Arthur fleck imagine #joker movie #joker x reader #Joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019 #joker imagine #joker #the joker #dc joker

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starry-bi-sky · 1 year

Text

part five of "clone danny"

Danny returns home later that night with a dislocated shoulder from Skulker and his fair share of scrapes and bruises after facing off with a handful of ectoplasmic animal shades. (All of them stuffed inside his thermos with Skulker that he'll toss in the Zone tomorrow after school.)

He shoves his mask back into his pocket, and hides his bat in the bushes at the side of his house under his window, then rounds back around the front to go through the door.

...Mainly because if Bruce Wayne was still awake, it'd be suspicious if Danny made it home without ever using the front door. He sneaks back in, and slooowly starts closing the door.

"You're back late." Says a surly, young voice that startles Danny into slamming the door instead.

"Fucking--!" He cuts himself and breathes in slowly, trying to slow his elevated heart rate before looking over his shoulder to see who the hell scared him.

Glaring at him like an upset parent would, with eyes cutting like sea glass, is Wayne the Sequel... or perhaps he was the seventh sequel. Danny is silent for a moment. "...You're up early." He says, maybe a bit petulant. "Does your dad know you're up this late?"

"Father permitted me to stay up and wait for your return, actually." Damian sniffs, and if anyone could make 'scowling' into a vocal tone, Danny would have thought it'd be Sam. But Damian beat her to it.

Danny turns around slowly to face him, arms crossing. "Yeah, uh-huh." He nods slowly, "Like I'm gonna believe that. Do you normally sit in a random stranger's kitchen and interrogate them when they get home?" He tilts his head for good measure.

"No." Damian says. (He is, in fact, lying.) His eyes narrow at Danny as if he had committed a terrible crime by being in his presence. He looks down to Danny's hands. "Father said you left with a bat. Where is it?"

"I lost it." Danny replies, biting the inside of his lip to prevent himself from smiling.

"You... lost it?"

"Yup." He says blandly. "Whoops."

-------

Danny goes up to his room immediately after that and collapses on his mattress to pass out for the next three hours until his alarm goes off.

Much to Danny's luck, Bruce and his son are literally only there for a few days, and he spends as much time during it to avoid them like a plague (while also dealing with his dislocated shoulder, which should reliably heal in half the time thanks to his ectocontamination). Damian does whatever during the day since he doesn't go to Casper High.

Something to note as we get out of the 'fic'-y part of this post -- Daniel J. Fenton was, largely, the sexual awakening to many people in his grade in Casper High School, including many A-Listers. However he is still "Daniel Fenton" so many of his classmates will take that fact to their grave. And to their personal friend groups.

Does this have any impact going forward? Not really so far, no.

Dodging a Wayne-sized bullet doesn't mean that Danny can dodge the Wes-sized bullet, and finds himself nearly nose-to-nose with an irate Wes Weston who demands to know where he was last nice.

Of which Danny, not needing to drop his smartass comments in front of the guy who already knows his ID, responds by calling him a jealous ex and sidestepping him completely. following up with if Wes isn't careful, then Danny might just think that Wes has a crush on him

(Wes does, in fact, have a crush on Daniel J. Fenton. He will take this secret to his grave.)

Ellie shows up in his kitchen, sitting on the table with her legs crossed while chatting amiably with Bruce Wayne a few days later when Danny returns from school. When Danny asks how she got inside (the door is typically locked), Ellie smiles toothily and fangily, and happily tells him that she came in through the window. And that he needs to tell his parents to invest in locks. She has long hair the same length as him. It's like looking into a mirror, one he is welcome to see into.

It is endearingly Ellie-like to know that she all but broke into his house, and seeing his sister-clone-twin relieves some of his tension. Only a little though when Bruce Wayne was still in his house.

Normally he sits and talks for hours with Ellie. But instead he takes it to the stairs, telling Ellie that he'll be in his room when she's done talking to Mister Wayne. He is a stubborn ass who doesn't even bother to ask where Wayne the Sevquel is.

(He runs into Wayne a one or two more times the following nights. Wayne asks him where his bat is on the second night, his son says he lost it. Danny agrees with him, and Wayne asks with a touch of concern what he'll do if he comes across a ghost.)

(Danny shrugs and says he hasn't before. And comes back home with a bruise the size of a large cat on his hip and a couple more along his torso and legs. his knees hurt from rough jumps with poor landings. Damian is waiting when he gets home. They exchange a few barbs and Danny hightails it up to his room.)

(Danny's face is obscured by the lack of lights and the shadows in the corner. Its the only reason he feels even a modicum of comfort in exchanging a few words with Wayne.)

(Ellie is waiting outside for him the day she meets Wayne, and asks him if Wayne knows. Danny says he wouldn't be avoiding him if he did. Wayne probably wouldn't be as nice as he was now if he knew.)

("You don't know he won't be nice after finding out." Ellie points out while he's digging his bat out from the neighbor's bushes this time.)

("He's not me, Ell." He says, frowning. "We don't know that.")

(Ellie sighs sadly, and Danny feels a tinge of guilt. "You can tell him if you want," he offers, "you don't have to hold back on my behalf.")

("I want to tell him with you, though. C'mon, we're twins.")

(That night Danny avoids breaking his other arm after a run in with a large ecto-serpent. Ellie nearly rips out its tongue for it. She's more ghost-like than he is. Possessive and violent and very, very passionate. As if he wouldn't do the same if pressed.)

(Ellie gives Danny a piggyback ride home, the wind filtering through the grills of his mask and force-feeding him the taste of freedom. Damian is there while they sneak back in, stifling their laughter under the meat of their palms.)

(Danny may or may not have reached out and ruffled his hair in his joviality when he passed him by. Grinning painfully when Damian bats at his hand like a disgruntled kitten. His hair feels like feathers and the sensation sinks itself deep into Danny's star-in-the-sky sized core-obsession like a suggestion.)

(He might regret it in the morning. It will fade in time after the Waynes leave.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

Taglist: @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is a clone #danny phantom au #dpxdc #dp crossover #no funny tags rn folx #masterpost when #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny fenton #ellie having the scary dog privileges is top tier choice on my part personally

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drabblesandimagines · 10 months

Text

Dove (part two)

Part one here. Leon Kennedy x fem reader Slow, slow burn, mostly fluff tbh

Leon’s lying on the couch, an arm bent behind his head and staring at the living room ceiling when his watch beeps, signaling the 0500-perimeter check. There are security cameras outside that will send a notification to his phone, but technology isn’t infallible so he prefers a sweep with his own eyes every four hours or so when he’s on protection detail. He heaves himself upright, wincing a little when his back protests. Hell, maybe he’s getting a little old to be sleeping on sofas. He picks up his gun off the coffee table and checks the cartridge, more out of habit than anything else – hasn’t shot a bullet this mission.

He makes his way over to the garage door, casting his eyes over your bedroom door as he does so. You won’t be awake for a few more hours, not after those sleeping pills, so he’s not trying to be particularly quiet when he unlocks the door, steps through and locks it once more behind him. He walks around the side of the SUV towards the garage shutter itself next, unlocks the padlock and lifts it up to step out into the cool night air.

The safe house is located a few miles out from a village on old farm land, tucked away down a rural lane. No nosey neighbors to question why there are no people living there most of the year. He went round the perimeter anti-clockwise upon arrival, so he’ll go clockwise this time, flashlight in one hand and gun aimed in the other. He’d been at home for a change when Hunnigan had called him – first person she thought of when she’d seen Lickers on the partial CCTV footage that had been salvaged. For a building housing the DSO’s surveillance division, Leon hadn’t been particularly impressed by quality of the CCTV images. Grainy, staggered frames of the creatures tearing up the office and people apart, leaving only destruction in their wake. And you, breathing but dazed, buried under lockers at the bottom of the stairwell and, somehow, the only survivor.

He completes his round at 0525, nothing significant to note and heads back inside, unlocking and locking doors behind him.

At 0600, his phone vibrates in his pocket – a steady rhythm denoting it’s a phone call, not a message or notification and, really, there’s only one person who will be calling him so he doesn’t even bother to check the caller ID.

“Morning, Hunnigan. What did the night bring?”

“Nothing substantial. We’re still trying to establish the full timeline. Seems like the footage we salvaged yesterday might be all we are going to get CCTV-wise.”

“Did you send a team out to Dove’s?”

“Won’t have the manpower till this afternoon. Why – do you have suspicions?”

“No, not at all.” He replies. “I just… I think it’ll put her at ease to know we’re not treating her as a suspect.”

“Did you question her?” Hunnigan sounds skeptical and he hears her tap away on her keyboard. “I haven’t received your report if so.”

“No, not yet. It was late when we arrived – she was tired, in pain, terrified. I didn’t think questioning her then would go down particularly well or be helpful. Gave her painkillers and sleeping pills. I’ll broach it after breakfast, maybe.”

“Broach it?”

“See how she’s feeling, I mean. Last night after we got in the car, she was all one-word answers, a couple of sentences here and there.” Leon sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t wanna scare her off.”

“If she’s got nothing to hide, there’s nothing for her to be scared of. Do your job and don’t get sweet on her.”

“Why can’t a guy do both?” He laughs.

“Leon – I expect that report today.”

The smile drops and he nods, as if she could see him. “Yes, ma’am.”

It takes a few attempts to open your eyes, blearily staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling in the morning light that filters in around the curtain. Your mouth is horrendously dry – a side effect from the sleeping pills, perhaps. Your whole body aches with stiff, bruised limbs.

But you’re alive, you remind yourself, when so many others aren’t.

Leon had been right at least – the sleeping pills had knocked you out into a dreamless sleep, though you don’t feel particularly rested.

You sit up in the bed tenderly, immediately thinking of painkillers. There’s no thought of getting changed, making yourself presentable. The man helped you strip last night, hell, he might think you’re a murderer, what does it matter if you leave the bedroom in a long t-shirt that shows a perhaps indecent amount of leg?

You open the door cautiously, unsure if Leon might still be sleeping on the couch, but it’s empty. Not a pillow or blanket in sight. The bathroom door is open, so he’s not in there. Your eyes move next to the door to the garage – maybe he’s gone to the SUV, would he sleep in there?

You turn slowly on the spot, trying to work out if there’s another door you’d missed in the blur of last night, but there’s the three – bathroom, bedroom, garage…

Wait. Your stomach sinks in realization.

Where’s the front door?

Is it a safe house thing? But surely that limits exit options if you’re trapped in here.

Or maybe that’s what they want.

Maybe you’ll graduate to a safe house with a front door when they don’t suspect you of being involved. You’ll ask Leon, you think, when he comes back from wherever he is. He seems nice, or nice enough. Been nothing but a gentleman, genuinely caring about your wellbeing… But maybe that’s all an act. An uncomfortable sensation reminds you that you need to use the facilities after a night of medicated sleep, so you head into the bathroom and lock the door.

All doubts about his sincerity are thrown out of the reinforced window once you see what’s on the counter.

There are two toothbrushes – one in a mug he’s pilfered from the kitchen after you’d smashed the container last night, and one’s lying flat on the counter, toothpaste pre-squeezed upon its bristles.

Sweet.

You emerge from the bathroom, teeth cleaned and find Leon stepping through the garage door.

“Oh, morning.” He smiles, shuts the door firmly behind him. You can see he looks a little tired around the eyes.

“Morning.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up for a few more hours. How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore.” He can tell you’re lying about the ‘bit’ - trying to put on a brave face. “What time even is it? I don’t have my phone… or a watch.”

“Ah,” he looks down at his own as if he doesn’t already know from his 0900 check. “Nearly half nine. Did you sleep all right?”

You nod. “No dreams. Was the sofa okay?”

“Yeah, one of the better ones.” He turns to the door and you hear a click before he steps away, heading into the kitchen.

Locked in.

“Where were you?”

“Outside. Perimeter check – all good.”

“Oh.” You pause, feeling like you know the answer before you can even ask it. “Can I go outside?”

His face falls in apology. “Sorry. Not at the moment - protocol. Wouldn’t want to risk anything.”

“Yeah, makes sense, I guess.” You continue standing awkwardly, a combination of not knowing what to do with yourself and hesitant to move knowing it’s going to hurt. “Erm, sorry, where did you put those painkillers?”

His face remains apologetic, though you’re not sure why. “We should get you some food in your first. I really shouldn’t have given you all those pills last night on an empty stomach.”

“I couldn’t have eaten anyway.”

“Understandable.” He ducks down below the counter and opens a cupboard, standing upright and placing a box of oats on the counter. “I’m afraid breakfast choices are a little limited. Oatmeal okay?”

“You cook too?”

“I’d say describing me as a cook is a stretch. We’ve got some fruit as well, but I think oatmeal will be best for those pills.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.” You remain standing in place. “Erm, can I… do anything?”

“Nah, I’ve got it all handled.” He calls over his shoulder as he grabs some mugs out of a cupboard – doesn’t have to open a few before he can locate what he’s looking for as you would have to in a vacation rental. “Go ahead and sit down. Might’ve noticed this place is sans dining table, so coffee table will have to do.”

You walk slowly over to the couch, your muscles aching with protest. The bruises are far darker on your legs today than yesterday and, boy, do you feel it. You sit down delicately on the sofa, before tucking your knees up underneath out of habit, reaching for a throw pillow and clutching onto it pathetically.

You don’t know where your thoughts drift off to as you stare at the TV opposite despite it being off – it’s like your brain just temporarily switched off, until a single word reboots it.

“Honey?”

“Huh?” Where had that come from? Was it…? “I thought we went with Dove.”

Leon laughs – can’t help himself. “No, no, sorry. I meant, would you like honey on your oatmeal? Codename’s still Dove, as far as I know. I don’t come up with them.”

“Oh,” you feel your face grow a little hot. “Y-yeah, please.”

A few moments later he approaches the coffee table, steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a bowl of oatmeal in the other, complete with spoon. He places it down in front of you with a flourish.

“Order’s up.”

There’s an attempt at what looks like a smiley face drawn in honey atop the oatmeal.

“Thank you.” You can’t help the amused tone that enters your voice.

“Yeah, sorry,” he rubs the back of his head. “I can’t do fancy drizzles like the restaurants so that’s the best I could come up with. I’ll just go grab your pills, but dig in.”

You lean forward and spoon a small scoop up and force it into your mouth. Your appetite is still missing in action but you know you need something. A metal clang draws your attention from behind and you turn your head, seeing Leon fiddling with what looks like a metal lockbox. He opens it and pulls out the canister of the painkillers and shakes two out in his hand, before closing the box and locking it. You turn back, take another scoop of oatmeal and swallow, hoping it gets rid of the bitter taste of distrust in your mouth.

He's in front of you again, hand outstretched, but you can’t help yourself.

“Why are the painkillers locked away?”

“Protocol.” He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Really?”

“I’m afraid so.” There’s a pause. Leon knows what you’re thinking and he hates it – he knows what it’s like to be scared, not trust anyone around you and he desperately doesn’t want to be that to you. “It’s mainly the sleeping pills. I don’t think you’re going to slip some and try and knock me out, or try and overdose on painkillers, but I… I need to follow it, okay? It’s nothing personal, Dove, I promise.”

“Is it protocol not to have a front door too?”

“Ah, wondered when you might clock that. Yeah. There’s a false one outside – built into the façade so it doesn’t look weird. Only real way in and out is through the garage.”

“But if someone or…” You swallow, the creature flashing up in your mind “…or something got in here, we’d be trapped.”

“Nothing is getting in here and if it does, it’s not getting past me.” He says, sincerely, and when you meet his eyes, there’s that niggle in your chest. You want to trust him - you really, really want to - you want to feel completely at ease with the man who’s apparently ready to lay his life down for you and only you, but you still feel like you’re on the tightrope between victim and villain in this piece. “Open your hand?”

You do, watching him drop two little white pills into it.

“You can have them every four hours if you’re feeling sore. I’ll keep track of the doses, just ask.”

You knock them back with a swig of coffee.

“Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Of course you can.” He pauses, trying to work out why you thought you had to ask. “Do you need a hand with…?”

“No, I think I’ll be okay. Erm… Do you know what I need to do about my temple?” You gesture to the medical strips on your forehead.

“Ah, yeah. So, need to try and avoid getting them wet for a few days. Don’t worry if you do though, I can re-do ‘em. First aid qualified.”

“Thanks. Erm, see you in a bit.” You head into the bedroom and to the duffel bag filled with clothes, picking out a selection that should work and run a brush through your hair. You take it back in the bathroom – Leon politely pretends to be engrossed in whatever’s now on the TV - and place them down on the counter, before locking the door.

After a less than relaxing shower – foregoing washing your hair – injured arm hanging loosely by your side, you’re not sure how long it takes to wrestle to put on underwear, sweatpants and a t-shirt, but it’s not like you have anything to do or anywhere to go. There’s no way you feel up to tackling the exercise bra that whoever has packed and asking Leon is simply beyond the question. It’s nice to be clean though. You’d tried to put the sling back on but had given up when your shoulder had started to smart after failed attempts and leave it half on/half off as you leave the bathroom.

Leon’s sat on the couch, phone in hand when you emerge. He turns, gives you a smile and nods at it.

“Need a hand with that?”

“Please. I tried, but…”

“Hey, it’s early days.” He stands up to meet you, pocketing his phone, as you walk over. “Sometimes they try and get you doing exercises from day one with dislocations too, but the medic advised you rest it for a week so I wouldn’t push yourself too hard.”

He takes adjusts the work you’d managed ever so slightly, and then puts everything in place. He steps closer to adjust it around your shoulder and you find yourself just staring into the expanse of his chest, when he sniffs.

“Mm. What is that - strawberry?”

“Huh?” You look up.

“Your bodywash.” He tightens the strap in place, checking everything is holding snug. “Someone on supplies must’ve been feeling fancy to be stocking us with that.”

“Did you not shower?” Your face burns red as soon as the question leaves your lips. “Not that you…” You like his scent, actually, woody. “I mean, just the bodywa-”

He shrugs it off. “I get you. Er, no. I… Well, I didn’t want to whilst you were sleeping, you know, in case…”

“Oh.” In case someone or something attacked. “Well, you could now – if you want. I’m awake now, so… Unless it goes against protocol?”

“No.” As long as he takes his guns and other weapons in with him, he thinks, and casts a longing look at the bathroom. “Promise you’ll yell if you need me, or you hear a weird noise or… anything, right?”

“I’ll yell.”

“Good. Okay. Might see if there’s another bodywash packed though – not sure I’m a strawberry guy.” He heads over to the garage door where the other duffel bag remains and picks it up, carrying it into the bathroom and locks the door.

He emerges 20 minutes later, same sort of t-shirt and cargo pants combo as yesterday and there’s a whiff of strawberry scent as he walks past you to sit down on the other couch.

You’ve been staring blankly at the TV screen for a little while – some sort of house renovation show, kept the volume down low. There isn’t really much else to do here and, really, you don’t want to sit and dwell on your own thoughts. Leon gave you the remote control, told you it was your choice and, sure, you’d clicked down past some of your favourite shows but you don’t want to associate any of them with this, with what happened…

So, weird house renovation it is, though you’re not taking any of it in.

Leon had excused himself a little while ago, said there was still some things in the back of the SUV he needed to grab. You don’t look round when he comes back in but you hear the lock click once more, before you hear him open a cupboard and the tap runs. He shows up in your peripheral vision a few moments later, placing two glasses of water down on the coffee table, laptop tucked under his arm and looking sheepish through his hair.

“Dove, I… I need to ask you some questions about yesterday.”

“Questions?” You tuck your legs up underneath you, wanting to huddle your knees like you do when you watch a horror movie.

“Yeah. Get your statement, mainly. It’ll help the investigation. I’m going to record the audio.”

“Do you want the TV off?”

He smiles at your question – still so sweet and considerate despite the fact he’s the one about to interrogate you, make you relive what is surely the worst even of your life, and you’re worried about his audio quality.

“No, it’s low enough – it won’t get picked up if you wanna leave it on for background noise.”

“Okay. Erm, I think I’d like that.” You pause, digging your nails into your palm. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, though. It’s all… kind of a blur.”

“That’s okay,” he opens up his laptop, taps a few keys and angles it to set up to record so he can go over and pick key points up later, if there are any. “Anything will be great. We’ll take it slow. You ready?”

You’re not, but you doubt you ever will be.

“Ready.”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Comments literally make my day! Lemme know if you're excited for part 3 x Part three.

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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